Talking of
Medinah
Friends have
invited me to give a talk on Madinah, describing what I saw
there, and I have readily agreed. As a Persian poet has said:
"To talk of the beloved is no less pleasant than to meet him."
I do not know
when I first heard of Makkah and Madinah. Like all Muslim
children, I was brought up in an environment in which Hijaz
(Arabia) and Makkah and Madinah were household words. I,
distinctly, remember people saying Makkah, Madinah together as
if these were the same. When they took the name of one of
them, they, generally, mentioned that of the other as well. I,
thus, came to imagine that Makkah and Madinah were not two
different places, but one, and learnt to appreciate the
difference only as I grew up. It, then, became clear that
these were two different towns separated from each other by
over 300 kilometres.
In my childhood,
I had heard people talking about Arabia and the two towns with
the same fervour and enthusiasm as they did about Paradise and
its joys and comforts, and it was from that time that I was
seized with the desire to attain Paradise and visit Arabia.
Soon I realised
that it was not possible for anyone to see Paradise during his
lifetime, but he could, of course, go to Arabia. Parties of
Hajis (pilgrims) were visiting it regularly. So, why could I,
also, not make a visit to that 'Paradise of Faith?'
Days rolled by
and I grew in age. My old eagerness was revived when I read
books on the life of the Holy Prophet (sallallahu alaihi
wasallam) and studied the history of Islam, and the urge to
perform the Haj and make the pilgrimage to Makkah and Madinah
became so strong that I was never without it.
Then, it so
happened that I reached the place where neither the grass grew
nor rivers flowed.' Only naked mountains stood on all sides of
it like sentinels. Yet, as Hafeez Jullundri has said:
Neither
grass grows here nor flowers bloom,
Yet even heavens bend themselves low to meet it.
As I saw the
apparently unattractive stretch of land, I felt how devoid of
scenery that town was. At the sametime, however, I thought
what a great favour it had bestowed upon mankind. Without it,
the wide world would have been nothing more than a golden
cage, and man, a prisoner. This was the town that took man out
of the narrow confines of the earth and made him acquainted
with limitless possibilities of development, and restored to
mankind its glory and freedom. It relieved humanity of the
heavy load under which it was groaning and broke the fetters
unjust rulers and ignorant lawgivers had put around its feet.
As I reflected
over what the world would have been without this town ' I
thought of comparing it with the bigger towns of the world and
seeing what would have been the loss of human race and
civilisation had the latter not come into existence. One by
one, all those towns came to my mind, and I felt that they
were flourishing merely for the sake of a handful of men and
had made no notable contribution to human progress and
happiness. On the contrary, they had been guilty of various
sins against man, at various stages of history. For selfish
gain, one town had razed the other to the ground, and one
country had ravaged the other countries.
Civilisation,
would have been none the poorer without those cities. But
without Makkah, humanity would have, certainly, remained
unblest with truths, beliefs, ideals and sciences that were
its pride today. It was owing to it that the world regained
the imperishable wealth of Faith and rediscovered the true
knowledge that lay buried under a thick crust of conjecture
and speculation. It got back the dignity and nobility that had
been trampled underfoot by cruel oppressors. In fact, humanity
was reborn at Makkah, and history turned a new leaf.
But what am I
saying? What do I mean when I ask: What would the world have
been like had there been no Makkah? It had remained asleep,
until the 6th Century, with its dry mountains and huge
sand-dunes, even with the House of Ka'aba and the Well of
Zam-Zam, while humanity was caught in the clutches of death.
Surrounded by its mountains and sand-dunes, it went on leading
a secluded life as if it had nothing to do with the larger
human-family, and was not a part of, but apart from the world
that lay around it.
I should,
therefore, not be enquiring what would have been the state of
the world without Makkah, but without its illustrious son who
turned the scales of history and showed a new path to mankind.
As I reflected
on it, a few scenes emerged on the landscape of my mind. It
appeared as if the leader of the Quraish was circumambulating
around the House of Ka'aba, alone and by himself, and people
were jeering at him and passing sarcastic remarks, but he was
carrying out the circumambulation with supreme indifference to
all hostility and opposition.
On finishing the
circumambulation, he wants to go into the House of Ka'aba, but
the key-bearer, Osman bin Talha checks him with a firm hand.
The leader of the Quraish bears it, too, with exemplary
fortitude, and says: "Oh Osman! What will it be like on the
day when the key will be in my hand and I will give it to whom
I please?" "Will all the Quraish be dead on that day?" asks
Osman in anger. "No", he replies. "On that day, they will
attain real respect and honour."
I, then, see the
same leader circumambulating around the House of Ka'aba, on
the occasion of the Victory of Makkah, and his Companions who
had sacrificed their all for his sake gathering around him
like moths. He sends for the keeper of the key, and says to
him: "Osman! This is your key. Take it. Today is the day of
showing kindness and keeping the promise."
As history
tells, the celebrated son of Makkah did not only become the
owner of the key with which he could open the door of the
House of Ka'aba, but, with him, also, was the key with which
he could open the locks of humanity no seer or philosopher had
been able to do till then. It was the Quran that had been
revealed to and the Apostleship that had been bestowed on him.
After performing
the Haj, I flew towards Madinah on the wings of eagerness. The
hardships of the way seemed to be a blessing to me, and before
my eyes was drawn the soul-stirring image of the earlier
traveller whose camel had passed through the same route.
The first thing
I did on reaching Madinah was to offer two Rak'ats of Namaz
and express my sincerest gratitude to the Almighty for
granting me the good fortune to be there. After it, I be took
myself into the 'presence' of the Holy Prophet (sallallahu
alaihi wasallam). How boundless was his favour upon me,
really! I could never give thanks to him as was his due. I
offered Durood and Salaam, and affirmed that he had conveyed
the Message of the Lord to the world, proved true to the trust
He had placed with him, showed the Straight Path to the Ummat,
and strove till the last breath of his life in the way of God.
I, then, made
the salutation to both the trusted friends of his whose
selfless devotion was without a parallel in history. No one
had discharged the duties of companionship or fulfilled the
obligations of succession as they did.
From the
Prophet's Mosque, I went to Jannat ul-Baq'ee. What a priceless
treasure of truth and purity, of love and dedication is buried
in this small plot of land! Asleep here are those who had
sacrificed the life of this world for the life of futurity.
These are the men who willingly abandoned their hearths and
homes in the way of Faith, and preferred to spend their lives
at the feet of the sacred Prophet (sallallahu alaihi wasallam)
than with friends and relatives Among the Believers are men
who have been true to their covenant with Allah. (XXXIII:23).
Thereafter, I
visited Uhud where the most spectacular drama of love and
fealty was staged. It was here that the world saw living
models of faith and steadfastness; it was here that it learnt
the true significance of courage and constancy. On reaching
there, it seemed that I heard Hazrat Anas bin Nazr (RA) say:
"I feel the sweet smell of Paradise coming from the side of
Uhud." Or that on hearing the news of the martyrdom of the
Holy Prophet (sallallahu alaihi wasallam), Sa'ad bin Mu'ad
(RA) was saying: "What is the joy of fighting and Jihad when
the Apostle of God is no more?" And Anas (RA) interjecting:
"What is the joy of living after him?"
It was here,
again, that Abu Dujana (RA) had made his back serve as a
shield for the Prophet (sallallahu alaihi wasallam) arrows
pierced his flesh, but he flinched not. Hazrat Talha (RA), in
the same way, had taken the arrows aimed at the Holy Prophet (sallallahu
alaihi wasallam) on his hands until the arms were paralysed.
Hazrat Hamza (RA) was killed on this very battlefield and his
body was cut to pieces, and Hazrat Mas'ab bin Omair (RA) was
martyred in such a state that even a shroud could not be
provided for him, and he was buried in a blanket which was so
short that if the head was covered, the feet became bare, and
if the feet were covered, the head became bare.
Would that Uhud
gave something of its treasure to mankind! Would that the
world got a small particle of the faith and steadfastness of
those glorious times!
Friends say:
"You took us to Cairo and acquainted us with its important
personalities; you have told us about Damascus and its people,
and introduced us with its scholars; you have taken us round
the Middle East. Now, tell me something about Hijaz and its
distinguished sons." But what am I to do? To me Hijaz stands
only for one man about whom I can go on talking forever. It is
because of him that Hijaz is Hijaz, and the World of Islam is
the World of Islam.
Our honour,
indeed, is by Mustafa's name!
Shaykh Sayid
Abul Hasan Ali Nadwi (RA)
Last modified:
July 19, 2007
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