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adnanashrafwarraich · 4 years

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PLACE OF LITERATURE IN TODAY’S WORLD

By Adnan Ashraf Warraich

“Literature adds to reality, it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become.” C.S. Lewis

Contemporary era is considered by many of us as the most advanced period in human civilization. Every aspect of human life has witnessed an enrichment owing to scientific and technological advancements. For instance, the advent of social media in our lives has made us more vocal and communicative. However, different surveys indicate deterioration as far as relationships and inner satisfaction is concerned. More and more people are suffering from various psychological disorders e.g. megalomania, paranoia, and narcissism (as evidenced in the rising trend of uploading selfies and other photos on facebook), etc. Almost every other person is undergoing a sort of depression and stress owing to the reasons varying from personal to external, like inflation, unemployment, energy crisis, terrorism and sectarianism. Different people will present different solutions to ameliorate the decadent circumstances through which we are passing. In my opinion, there is only one antidote for all of our afflictions; and that is literature.

Here it is also quite pertinent to mention the kind of literature that can make our lives worth living. Like the people in any sphere of life, writers’ thoughts, views and intentions also span from good to evil. There are ones who preach love and kindness; and there are others who incite people to commit murders and wreak havoc on the weaker sections of the people. So it is the basic definition of literature that should be kept in mind while thinking to read a literary work that literature deals with the lives of humans, it preaches love and humanism; and it does not erect boundaries. There is no room for any kind of bias in literary discourse.

We have now more reading material available to us than it was two or three decades ago but ironically there is a decline in the number of the readers and especially the readers of literature are few and far between. In previous ages, literature occupied the central place in the lives of people. The art of storytelling, poetry and drama was at the core of the Renaissance in the western world, which laid the foundation stone for their future progress in every sphere of life. Literature inculcated in their society the values like humanism, tolerance and compassion and as a corollary of all this they got an impetus to evolve not only their political system but also excelled in the field of science and technology which led to industrial and agrarian revolutions making them economic powers. They synchronized the spirit of literature produced by their writers with their achievements. We can criticize some of them for being colonizers but we cannot ignore the source of their inspiration.

Literature encourages people to be critical in their daily lives and thus it makes them look into their practices, evaluate them and keep trying to remove personal flaws. It makes them compassionate towards their fellow human beings. Who would not have moved after reading Riders to the Sea by J.M. Synge or Three Days to See by Helen Keller? Reading such pieces, certainly, fills one’s heart with the milk of human kindness. Literature is a reflection of the society and as such it presents the miseries prevalent around us making us respond to these with the intention of bringing about some kind of improvement. The works of African-American writers contributed significantly to curb the racial prejudice in American society. Similarly, feminist writers have done a great service to humanity by highlighting the atrocities committed against the women and inspiring them to get their rights. Today, though, women are doing remarkable work in all the fields of life but, still, there are countless others suffering through oppression in the areas which are still backward and where male-chauvinism is still rampant.

Literature also brings about a balance in our lives i.e. it makes us realize our true nature, freeing us of all the illusions of our glory and thus keeping us away from the trap of narcissism.

“Narcissism falls along the axis of what psychologists call personality disorders, one of a group that includes antisocial, dependent, histrionic, avoidant and borderline personalities. But by most measures, narcissism is one of the worst, if only because the narcissists themselves are so clueless.” Jeffrey Kluger

Those who keep on sharing their selfies and yearning for getting more and more ‘likes’ on their facebook, are advised to go through Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels or Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. That will make them relinquish this trait.

We can also get rid of depression with the help of literature. Any good piece of poetry can make us forget the worries preoccupying our minds. Of all the genres of literature, poetry is said to be the most soothing, the most pleasing and the most comforting. Be it Shakespeare’s sonnets, Keats’s Odes, Wordsworth’s poems or the poetry of Bulleh Shah, Ghalib, Mir, and Faiz; it transpires our inner world into a garden full of roses.

In our milieu, we see the works of Sir Syed, Hali, Faiz, Prem Chand, Manto and Tagore et al. influencing the society in a positive way. If Sir Syed’s works in prose endeavored to eliminate the follies present in the people than Hali’s poetry made them realize who they were. The works of Faiz and Prem Chand enabled us to be critical towards the division of the society on the basis of class. Manto presented the evils in the society in such a realistic manner that it became hard to digest for the conservatives who preferred to put these things under the carpet and labelled them as taboo. Thus he sought to make us cognizant of the ugly aspects of our society. As for his opponents, they are still present today criticizing Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy for highlighting the cruelties done to women. The respective eras of these literary figures absorbed their influences and thus we see a period of intellectual richness till late 70s when, unfortunately, authoritarian regime started stifling all critical voices and caused an intellectual barrenness in the coming decades which are marred with the afflictions of extremism, sectarianism and terrorism.

Recently, there has been the vogue of organizing literary festivals in the major cities. This is appreciable in the sense that a large number of people attend such events, sessions are held for discussing the various ideas and thus developing critical thinking is facilitated. However, there is segregation in these festivals as well. These festivals are organized at places meant to be visited by the people of elite class only and the organizers keep this aspect in their mind when they invite the speakers. Since this vogue is relatively a new phenomenon in our country, so it is hoped that these literary festivals will become literary with the passage of time.

Our beloved country is facing multiple challenges at present. These challenges can be dealt with effectively only when our society gets rid of gender oppression, parochial prejudices, extremism and sectarianism. Literature is the only panacea for all these maladies. Our land is the land of the Sufi poets like Bulleh Shah, Sachal Sarmast, Mian Muhammad Bukhsh and Rehman Baba. It is also the land of poets like Waris Shah and Ahmed Faraz whose amorous poetry has a special fragrance for us. Folklores like Heer Ranjha and Sassi Pannu have their origin here. So we have our own literary traditions the continuation of which can transform our society into an ideal one.

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nasiknews · 2 years

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Muslim spiritual leader of Afghan origin shot dead in Nashik; one detained | Latest News India

Nashik police on Wednesday detained one person in connection to the murder of Hazrat Khwaja Syed Zarif Maudood Chishty (35), an Afghan refugee and Muslim religious leader who was popularly known as ‘Sufi Baba’, officials said. The search for two more suspects is on. The Afghan refugee was shot dead at point blank range by three unidentified assailants in Yeola taluka of Nasik district on…

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kimskashmir · 2 years

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Muslim spiritual guru shot dead in Maharashtra

The deceased, identified as Khwaja Sayyad Chishti, was popularly known as 'Sufi Baba' in Yeola, an official said.

MUMBAI — A 35-year-old Muslim community religious leader hailing from Afghanistan was shot dead by a group of four unidentified persons in Yeola town of Maharashtra’s Nashik district on Tuesday, police said. A possible motive behind the murder was not immediately known. The incident took place in the evening at an open plot in the MIDC area of Yeola town, around 200km from Mumbai, the police…

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hindimaster · 2 years

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Maharashtra Muslim Spiritual Leader Sufi Baba From Afghanistan Murder In Nashik

Murdered in Nashik: महाराष्ट्र के नासिक जिले में मुस्लिम समुदाय के धर्मगुरु (Muslim Spiritual Leader) की हत्या का मामला सामने आया है. जानकारी के मुताबिक 35 साल के सूफी संत की गोली मारकर हत्या कर दी गई. बताया जा रहा है कि ये सूफा बाबा (Sufi Baba) अफगानिस्तान (Afghanistan) के रहने वाले थे. पुलिस के मुताबिक इस घटना को 4 लोगों ने अंजाम दिया है. हत्या की ये घटना येओला (Yeola) तालुका के चिचोंडी…

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alittlebitoftruthcan · 8 years

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‘Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive! Jump into experience while you are alive! Think… and think… while you are alive! What you call ‘salvation’ belongs to the time before death. If you don’t break your ropes while you’re alive, do you think the ghost will do it after? The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic just because the body is rotten—that is all fantasy. What is found now is found then. If you find nothing now, you will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death. If you make love with the divine now, in the next life you will have the face of satisfied desire. So plunge into the Truth, find out who the Teacher is, believe in the Great Sound! Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for, it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work. Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.’ — Kabir A passionate longing for God—so intensely, utterly, that you become aflame with only one desire, that all else disappears. A man came to Baba Farid; Farid was a Sufi mystic. The man said ‘I have heard that you have come to know God. I have come from far away. Tell me what God is and how God can be known.’ Farid said ‘Right now I am going to the river to take my morning bath. You come along and if possible I will answer there.’ The seeker looked a little puzzled—‘Why can’t he answer it right now? Why should he answer there?’ But he had heard that mystics are eccentric people, so he followed. Farid told him ‘You also throw off your clothes, be naked and come into the river. Perhaps then I can answer.’ The man thought ‘This is going too far: ‘Throw off your clothes’?’ But there was nobody else on the riverbank, so he said ‘Why not?’ He threw off the clothes and jumped into the river. Farid was a very strong man. He jumped upon the seeker, pushed him hard, and started drowning him in the river. The seeker was a very thin and weak man—must have been a philosopher, must have been thinking too much, must not have cared about the body—and Farid was killing him, murdering him. After a minute of struggling the man finally threw Farid off. Then they faced each other. The man could not understand. He said ‘It is my own fault that I followed you; I should have been a little more intelligent. You are a madman! What were you doing? You were murdering me!’ Farid said ‘These things later on. First I want to ask one thing: how many thoughts did you have while I was pushing you down into the water?’ He said ‘Thoughts? There was only one thought: ‘How can I get out?’ And that too was not a thought—it penetrated my whole being, it saturated my whole being, it permeated every cell of my body. It was not a thought.’ Farid said ‘That you have understood. When you desire God so passionately, you will know—not before that.’ God is not a philosophical theory, it is an experience of intense passion. Kabir says: ‘When the Guest is being searched for, it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work.’ Nothing else is needed—no method, no technique. If the intensity is great then that will do the work. In fact all the methods and techniques only help your intensity. They don’t really help you to go to God, they only make you more and more aflame. The master cannot help you to see God but he can create great thirst in you. He can impart his thirst, he can impart his fire, he can put you on fire. And that does the work. Once you are afire then there is no problem: the thing is going to happen to you. ‘Look at me!’ says Kabir. ‘You will see a slave of that intensity.’ That intensity cuts the knot, that intensity becomes a sword. In a single stroke you are no more the old person, you become the new person. And Kabir believes in THAT kind of work. He says to his disciples: ‘Come with me only if you are ready to put your house on fire. Come with me only if you are ready to cut off your head.’ He is not interested in solving the problem, he is interested in destroying the problem utterly. I have heard a small story. Once there was a man called Gordon. When he was a little boy, his parents tied a monkey on his chest. Every day they made the knot tighter and more complicated, until the monkey was almost a part of Gordon’s body. With this handicap Gordon found it difficult to have any fun or play with other children, and it interfered even more with his life when he grew up. So he decided to go to a doctor and get rid of the monkey. The first doctor he went to said ‘Well, if you will lie still and don’t give me any back-talk, maybe we can do something.’ So, week after week, Gordon lay still while the doctor tried to unravel the knot. At the end of a few years there were some loose ends, but the knot still held firm. Then Gordon got tired of going to that doctor and stopped. The next doctor looked at the knot carefully and said ‘That’s awful. It’s not just a knot, it’s a double knot.’ He was a good doctor, but he couldn’t get the knot untied either. Gordon went to a third doctor. This doctor looked at the knot carefully, took out a sword, and with one blow cut right through the center of Gordon’s knot, so that the rope fell off and the monkey ran away. When the first doctor heard about this, he came to look. He said ‘That’s not fair. You’re supposed to unravel it. And besides, Gordon has a big white spot where the monkey used to be.’ And he said to the second doctor ‘Don’t worry, it’s not gone for good anyway. Gordon will soon be back for more treatment.’ Hearing this, Gordon said to the third doctor ‘He’s right, that was cheating. You were supposed to unravel it. And I do have a big white spot where the monkey used to be. And besides, I miss my monkey.’ So the third doctor said ‘I’ll tell you what. Let’s have some fun. We’ll paint designs on the white spot where the monkey used to be.’ So they painted pictures and designs on the white spot. At first Gordon didn’t like the idea, but he soon began to enjoy it. ‘They’re only watercolors’ said the doctor ‘and they’ll wash off any time. And in any case, after a while the white spot will go away and you’ll look just like everybody else.’ But Gordon’s friends, when they heard about Gordon having fun like that, said ‘Disreputable. Disgusting. Cynical. Everybody knows you’re not supposed to have that kind of fun. Why can’t he stick to standard methods of having fun?’ Remember, this is how things are in the world. Your psychoanalysts, your counselors, your therapists, are all trying to unravel the knot. And in that unraveling things are getting even more messed up. Kabir believes in cutting the knot with one stroke of the sword. And it can be done—that’s really the only way to do it. But the scholars and the pundits were not happy with Kabir. They started saying ‘This is unfair. You’re supposed to unravel the knot.’ And even the people whose knots are cut don’t like it when those knots are cut. They start missing their monkeys, and the white spot is also there. This story is beautiful. This is not the story of somebody else, this is your story. And all the parents and all the societies and all the cultures go on putting a monkey on you and tying the monkey tightly to you. That’s what your knowledge is, that’s exactly what your mind is: a monkey tied on by the society. The mind has to be cut—and psychoanalysis and things like that simply go on unraveling it. Have you ever seen any man fully psychoanalyzed? There is no possibility—because mind is not just like a rubbish heap, that you can go on throwing out the rubbish and one day the mind will be empty. No: the mind manufactures rubbish. It is not easy: while you are emptying it, it is creating more rubbish—fresh rubbish, stronger rubbish, better rubbish. It goes on creating. Only for a few moments will you feel a kind of unburdening, and again it is there. No person is fully psychoanalyzed, no person can be—because psychoanalysis tries to unravel the knot. Mystics believe in drastic methods. The situation is such, desperate, that only a drastic thing can help. A sword is needed. Kabir is a sword. And you can also create your own sword. The sword is created by two energies: love and death.

Osho

#osho #sufi #intensity #kabir #jump #mind #shock #sudden elightenment #desire #passion #god #farid #master #death #fire #method #psychoanalysis #problems #knowledge #lbotca

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richmegavideo · 5 years

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How Dawood Ibrahim, India’s most wanted gangster, found his mentor

Rashid Taxi was running for his life.

Pushing and shoving the passers-by, colliding with bicycle riders and oncoming scooters. He was trying to get away from Khalid, who was looming large over him like an angel of death. But Rashid was scrawny and lean, he could run faster. Khalid was heavier and had to strain harder to continue running behind Rashid.

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The chase ending successfully was very important for Khalid. He not only wanted to discipline Rashid but also terminate the possibility of any more Rashids rearing their ugly heads and threatening Bashu in the future. Bashu’s arrogance had spawned a legion of detractors in the area. His financial growth and Khalid’s increasing clout had become a headache for several people in the neighbourhood. Bashu expected everyone to pay obeisance to him. If anybody failed to be subservient, the poor fellow was a marked man.

One of them was a Muslim League member of the legislative assembly called Ziauddin Bukhari, a political leader with considerable influence. When Bukhari refused to do Bashu’s bidding, the haughty ganglord engineered his defeat in the subsequent elections. One diktat from Bashu was enough to frighten people into doing his bidding. No, it was not respect that Bashu garnered, but fear. Bashu fed off people’s fear and grew more powerful.

A Sufi saint by the name of Nirale Shah Baba was highly venerated among the Muslims of the area. This was an era when Wahabism had yet to take root among the Muslims of Dongri and Sufi saints were not taboo. Nirale Shah sat outside the Makhdoomiya Bakery across the road from Teli Mohalla.

His presence attracted a sizeable crowd of devotees, a fact that angered Bashu. Nobody else in his fiefdom was allowed to attract a fan following larger than his—most definitely not a maverick old man with no money. He felt A Sufi saint by the name of Nirale Shah Baba was highly venerated among the Muslims of the area. the Baba had the potential to dilute his power centre. Bashu’s men often chided the baba for the milling crowds.

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Finally, one fine day, Ziauddin Bukhari, along with Nirale Shah’s devotees, cobbled together a convenient alliance to put the fear of God into Bashu. They held clandestine meetings in the area, and sometimes even in a different area, so that Bashu and Khalid did not get a whiff of their plans. After the secret brainstorming sessions, the consensus was that only a parallel force equally driven and strong, could outwit Bashu and undermine his growing power. The anti-Bashu coterie assembled a ragtag band of young men and formed an anjuman (a group) and called themselves the “Young Company.”

Bukhari, in a clever, strategic move, also roped in Ibrahim Havildar and convinced him to give his blessings to their organisation. However, Ibrahim Havildar was shrewdly kept in the dark about the real motive for the creation of this band of youths. He was persuaded to help with the ostensible purpose of constructively channelising the energies of the wayward youths of Dongri.

Rashid Khan was popularly known as Rashid Taxi as he owned a fleet of black-and-yellow taxis. The mafia identifies people with the same name by adding a sobriquet to distinguish one from the rest. Rashid Taxi had a history with Bashu. He had initially started off as a Bashu acolyte but left bitterly after being mistreated.

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Khalid, being Bashu’s enforcer, called Rashid a couple of times through an emissary. But Rashid not only shrugged them off but also slapped and abused the messengers every time he was summoned. He told them, “I don’t have to submit to Bashu and his commands.” For Khalid, it was a direct challenge. He finally decided to discipline Rashid in his own way. There is a proverb in the mafia circles: Pehelwan khopdi, puri chokdi (A wrestler’s brain only wants to wreck completely)

He alerted his men and posted a couple of boys at the end of Teli Mohalla; if they spotted Rashid passing by that route, they were to alert him immediately. That evening in the summer of 1973, Khalid’s boys told him about Rashid’s presence in the area. Khalid swung into action immediately. Two of those boys who were earlier beaten by Rashid also joined the chase. They knew that Khalid not only wanted to shatter Rashid’s pride but also his bones. They were also itching to avenge their own humiliation at Rashid’s hands.

After chasing Rashid for half-a-kilometre, Khalid, a heavyset man, had begun to pant, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. It was too much work for one day.

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Khalid was thoroughly frustrated at such a potential loss of face and decided to give up. Both his men who were running behind him were also out of breath. They stopped the moment they saw Khalid slowing down. They decided to return and were resigned to their fate.

Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, a youth whizzed past them, almost flying with extreme agility, jumping across the handcarts, hopping away in front of the honking car bonnets, intercepting motorbikes and scooters. Khalid turned to look in wonderment, surprised at the sudden surge of energy that one of his boys seemed to have acquired in no time. But as he turned around, he saw both his men were still behind him, the epitome of deflated tyres, thoroughly punctured. They too looked at him incomprehensibly and shrugged, acknowledging that they too didn’t know who this man was, sprinting ahead of them like a rabbit.

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The youth was holding Rashid Taxi by his collar and was not allowing him to move an inch from the spot. “Khalid bhai, aa jao (Come here, Khalid Bhai),” said the boy. While Khalid was overjoyed that Rashid had finally been cornered, he looked quizzically at the boy who held Rashid in his firm grip. One of his aides announced, “Yeh to Dawood hai (Oh, this is Dawood).” Khalid was trying hard to size up this scrawny lad who had been introduced to him by Ibrahim Havildar just recently, and who was now holding Rashid like a sack of potatoes, with so little effort.

Khalid patted Dawood’s back, indicating that he was very pleased with his actions. The boy had no idea that Rashid was a prize catch for Khalid and by netting him he had rescued him from a tight spot. Then Khalid turned swiftly and administered a resounding, heavy slap—in full force—on Rashid’s face.

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In the few years that he had been with the Mumbai mafia, he had learnt the golden rules too well. If you want to kill someone, then you stab him in the stomach. But if you want him to live but still want to subject him to abject and disgraceful humiliation, then you stab him in his buttocks. This is called gaand pe waar—attack on the arse. The injury inflicted in full public view would be a perennial source of embarrassment for the victim and he would never be able to sit straight even after recovery.

Eventually, among Bombay denizens, this form of retribution got whittled down to gaand pe laat (kick on the arse) and, now, GPL is a widely used acronym. Khalid took a knife from his aide and drove the knife down both of Rashid’s butt cheeks, leaving two deep gashes. Rashid let out a piercing scream. Khalid and his men were satisfied with the punishment and were ready to leave.

It was then that one of his men asked, “Bhai, agar police case hua toh? (Bhai, what if the police registers a case against us?)”

This question stopped Khalid in his tracks. He had been preparing to gloat to Bashu about Rashid’s public chastisement at his hands. According to Indian penal laws, an assault could still be interpreted under section 307 (attempt to murder) of the IPC, or even under section 326 (voluntarily causing grievous hurt by dangerous weapons or means).

Even before Khalid’s aides could respond, Dawood took the knife and inflicted a deep gash on his own forearm. Dawood, who was, until now, merely standing by without participating in the violence, stepped forward and said, “If there is a cross complaint of a similar case, then the police will resolve it within the station premises and the matter will not go to court, thereby ruling out any prosecution or trial.”

Dawood had simplified their dilemma and spoken like a true policeman’s son. Khalid’s brow creased in worry, “How can we lodge a cross complaint against Rashid when we don’t have a victim whom he has hurt?” Khalid inquired from Dawood and also looked towards his two men.

Even before Khalid’s aides could respond, Dawood acted with the same swiftness that he had displayed earlier while chasing Rashid. He took the knife from Khalid and inflicted a deep gash on his own forearm. Fresh hot blood gushed out from his wound and splattered on his clothes, and also began dribbling on the tar road. Dawood’s clothes were soaked with his own blood. Everything happened so suddenly and abruptly that Khalid was left stunned.

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It was at that precise moment that he vowed to himself that he would stand by the young man and protect him always, even if he had to give up his own life to save him. Khalid immediately gave Dawood a warm, crushing embrace…

It was the beginning of a long-lasting bond.

Excerpted from Dawood’s Mentor with permission from Penguin India. We welcome your comments at [email protected].

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