No time, no matter 

One day far away where peace resides

where silence becomes the only voice, 

no wishes to colour, no desires unkind

love persists and the rhythm’s divine

where waves speak and the sun leads

the pace of the clouds outpaces time

A journey that I won’t  wish to conquer

has no destination lined any longer

where ambition is cold and the soul is free

as the burden of the body is devoid of me

where the limits the sky don’t define

where perfection- aimless and truth shines

Is it there where you I will find?

There it may … but none in sight

maybe far beyond those stars,

above the heavens and the seven skies

or there of where no knowledge holds,

Unheard to this world, undisclosed to time

To see you there, I long for my sign

This journey I undertake will take some time

ready I am not, unprepared and confined

Time my shackle, space is my bind

I await a glimpse, that glimpse divine

there where timelessness pervades

I pray , I deserve to reside.



16th of Safar ul Muzaffar 1438

​It’s already the 16th of Safar ul Muzaffar! People in usual circumstances refer to the end of month, or a week as an anchor to signify the fast pacing of the clock. However in the past few years, the definition and diction of events that symbolize the fast passage of time has evolved. It has almost become a reflex action to say, “It’s already the 16th of the month, how fast time passes” or “Half of the month has elapsed, it’s already the 16th”. Some even have their calendars marked and has made it a point to make sure they are absolutely free to get their selves rejuvenated from the barakaat showered on the 16thmi raat of all 12 months.

The subject of time has always taken precedence in all my writings, particularly because it’s invincible and the tides of it take away moments, people and events turning them into mere history. The ruthlessness of time is a futile discussion. Many came and went; none however could contest its supremacy. 

The passing away of Burhannudin Maula RA was one such event which reminded us of our helplessness against time. Come what may we could’t rewind those moments, those events or bring back Maula RA in any possible way. It became too hard to adjust to this fact, and all we felt we are left with, was regrets and repentance. 

With the passage of time- today, however I feel different about its undeniable powers. The passing away of Maula RA taught me that we are not in contest with time anyway. We need to make peace with it, value it, understand its universal nature and ultimately make use of it. It taught me that time was neither on anyone’s side nor against someone. It did what it was sent to do. The mere definition of time has wrongly been interpreted and that the sayings such as “Time never stops for someone” is all null and void as time never anchored itself to anything or anyone or even has any self adjustment powers to realize who it takes away, what it achieves or determines its loses meanwhile. I realized that time like the air we breathe, like the light in the sun is a powerless entity of the world, created for the world, a criterion set, a formality done, for us just to ensure its wise use and reach our desired destination which is actually bound-less, time-less.

Amate Syedna TUS,


​You-my sign of life, go on and on…

​You-my sign of life, go on and on…

Tirelessly, ceaselessly- never uttering  a word of complain, nor a sign of any pain,

You comfort my tired soul and oh my aching bones! 

Breathless, restless I remain if I stay away for long

Peace is what you are to me, a symbol so strong, 

None other shall take your place, natural is your song,

Be it summer, spring or the chilly winter of the year,

For you my dear trials come, yet all I gleefully bear

Blanket I may take, and may freeze in the cold

but us apart, never can anything  hold

Little wonder you are of mine: a secret love-unknown

What joy you bring to me: let the world beknown,

My fan, oh my dear fan

You inspire me all the more,

You-my sign of life, go on and on…



Hark! The breeze…


Hark, the breeze billowing

From that sacred sepulchre

Nestled within a barren heath

Fragrant like a lotus.

Bring to us from this treasured tomb

The winds to alter our destiny

The vapours to rub off all our pains

The fragrance to overpower all our strains.

Hark, the whispering wind

Carry then back to the tomb

Our reverent regards

Encircle the sepulchre’s pristine white walls

And bow at its blessed threshold

Chanting all the while:

Salamun Alaika a Fakhral Huda

Salamun Alaika a Bahran Nada…

Amate Syedna TUS


Father and Son

A young man of eighteen

Rides into the battlefield

His tongue parched since three days

His heart pounding, echoing determination

With each stride of his steed

He vanquishes one enemy after another

The heat of Karbala beats down upon his head.

But his heart is with his aged father

Who he knows is watching from the encampment beyond

His soul yearns to win for his noble ancestors’ cause

And he forges ahead, intent on his mission.

Until a spear pierces his young beating determined heart,

And as he falls from the horse he cries

For his father who races and stumbles a hundred times

Until he reaches his son and takes his head in his lap.

“Alatash!” cries the young soldier,

“Alatash!” cries the Imam’s son.

“Water!” cries the countenance which reflects the features of the Last Prophet.

As his wound bleeds like a river let loose.

As his eyes flutter close,

The last image he sees in this world

Are of his father in indescribable anguish,

His beard drenched with tears.

Then he smiles,

As he sees his great grandfather,  his grandfather, grandmother and uncle,

Beckon him to the gates of Heaven.

“Until I meet you, my son,

Until I meet them,”

His father whispers

And with those words

Echoing in his ears

His soul rises to the heavens above.

Amate Syedna TUS


Ya Hatim al Khairaat RA


A tear wrenched from the heart

A prayer wails from the soul

As a bedraggled man places his head

On the turbat of Ya Hatim AL Khairaat

Lifting his suffering head

burdened by a teeming multitude of worldly plagues

He fills a fistful of sand from the base

Of the sacred sepulchre

And ties it reverently in a musty cloth.

After a trek of several furlongs

He reaches his abode and rests his aching feet

When the cloth in his pocket seems to beckon

Unlacing the ties

Expecting to find the Holy sand

Hoping to kiss the particles for solace

He gasps to see within

The glimmer of gold coins

He raises his arms heavenward

His eyes stream with tears undamned

His heart soars to the skies

To thank Ya Syedna Hatim

Amate Syedna TUS


16th of Moharram ul Haram 1438

The salami you gave

The shahadat you prayed

The tears you showered

The blessings you bestowed

Our heavenly abode

The destination proposed

Fortunate are we 

To say yes to the plea

The battle of Karbala

The brutality of enemy 

The nauha wal aweel

A pain that never heals

That manzar on haseer 

no difference is seen

Syedna Saifuddin TUS

or was Aqa Burhanuddin RA ?

Your RA presence was seen

clear and no doubt it had been

those bounties and favours

were from the treasures of Burhanuddin 

The faiz of Imam uz Zaman

The clear descendancy of Burhanuddin

who could deny?

Yet only can see mukhlaseen

Can’t thank you enough Maula 

for this nemat afzal o aala 

Ashara 1438

was a victory indeed!

Amate Syedna TUS,



Zanzibar-Tanzania, Africa 1438

The serene sound of the waves splashing at its shore, the turquoise blue water reflecting the bright rays of the sun, the feel of the cool breeze and the softness of the sand leaving behind immaculate footprints, the clustered wooden boats floating across the banks of the vast Indian Ocean paints a breath taking image of the picturesque island of Zanzibar. 

Zanzibar; a Tanzanian archipelago off the coast of East Africa has a flavour of Portuguese and Arabs intertwined with a natural blend offering a unique experience to any traveller.

I had only a day’s experience in Zanzibar yet I fell immediately in love with the city. The city presented a strong credo of sustaining and maintaining it’s cultural traditions along with it’s deep original historical essence.

Apart from that the marine mode of travelling offered an altogether refreshing experience.  The ferry route from Dar es Salam to Zanzibar was a ride that each one of us savoured. The sea plane again amplified the beauty of the trip by offering an enchanting view of Zanzibar to Dar es Salam.

The Prison Island depicted a historical significance and held a very symbolic position for Zanzibar. Tortoises; the endangered species kept as pets gave a cryptic feel to it yet mirrored the age old presence of the well kept monument. The wooden bridge stretching to the banks of the sea would leave any soul mesmerised and enthralled with its beauty. 

The city’s bazars, hotels, gardens and restaurants also offer the same flavour of ethnicity and antiquity making it all the more special and an absolutely preferred tourist destination. Zanzibar and it’s people take immense pride in the originality they offer and the authenticity they maintain. Their hospitality and kind nature adds a cherry on the top to the beauty of this Tanzanian archipelago of Zanzibar. 

Asante Tanzania!


Of tears


They rise from the deepest part of the soul,

They surge when the heart squeezes in pain,

They soar from an ocean of submerged feelings,

Until they drop from the eye and run down the cheek.

As they roll down the contours of the face,

They take with them an ocean of uncountable sins,

They cleanse the slate of the soul

Leaving behind paper that is white and pristine.

The combine with the quagmire of worldly pains

And vent them in a way so pure.

The tear is  no ordinary tear,

The salt within is no ordinary saline,

The water echoes emotions which cannot be foretold,

The brine is but unscarlet blood.

They flow on Imam Hussain AS

And only from eyes that are privileged.

They transport us to our ancient land

Where our souls yearn to return.

May this honour remain for our eyes,

May they always continue to water,

As the cries of Ya Husain escape our lips,

Until the soul escapes to the heavenly abode.

Amate Syedna TUS


My Dear Khidmat Guzar

​My Dear Khidmat Guzar,

Standing under the sun to ensure our shelter

Quenching thirsts with drinks and water

Never letting us wander, never go astray

Help of yours always comes our way

No cold replies, no sighs or frustration

You my dear never show signs of anger

Little if we ask, you gift us much

None despair, your offering is such

Whether it’s the masjid, mawaid or sabeel

Comfort and ease is what you make us feel

You teach what you preach and preach what you teach

Your values and morals, humility and grace, is for all, and benefits us each

Hungry, thirsty burnt by the sun

you work all day and let no request shun

You smile and welcome each question we have

and help us adapt to all that we learn

My dear Khidmat Guzar,

Sleepless nights, and aching limbs

Steadfast you stand, no desires no whims

With all the sweat and sunburnt skin

Complaints and insults, you take on the chin

No jewels, or gems or riches of this earth,

More than all this, your efforts are worth

How may we thank you for all your care?

for all these days the endless barakaat we share

The Dua of Maula is your only wish

With tafaadi and khidmat His blessings you seek

May you always remain in the noorani khidmat

Today and tomorrow, and always in His hazrat

Amate Syedna TUS,