Faith, Love, & Sufism

You may see this as an extension of my previous post here. Grasping Imtiaz's profound understanding of love and faith has been a year-long exploration for me.

Following the establishment of the Ram Mandir in Januar 2024 at Ayodhya, many Hindus celebrated this momentous occasion.  In Hinduism, temples are considered sacred dwellings of the divine. Consequently, any act that harms a temple, such as demolition, is considered as a sin. I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment.  However, I would like to broaden the conversation by incorporating the perspectives of Sufism.

In February 2024, I visited Hazrat Nizamuddin with someone special. Unfortunately, that special someone is no longer in my life, but their memories remain. Out of all our moments together, the visit to the holy Hazrat was one of the most unforgettable. It became so ingrained in my mind that I started having dreams of the place. It felt as though the place was calling to me, but I know it was the memories that were haunting me. Reliving the experience over and over again drew me towards Sufism and gave me a lot of time to contemplate it, particularly through the lens of poets and writers.

The best part about Sufism, which I previously overlooked, was the idea of considering God as a significant half (or Piya) of oneself.  He is no greater than you. He is incomplete without you. In fact, He resides in you and seeks your welfare. You, too, are incomplete without him. The unification between you and your significant half is the most sacred ritual. There is hardly a way to find the significant half outside. He cannot be seen with naked eyes or felt with the touch of your skin. He can only be felt. He will make you laugh; He will make you cry. He will guide you towards discovering yourself. 

My understanding of this concept is not unique. Countless songs, passed down through generations, resonate with this same idea. Perhaps you've encountered some of them, like Kun Faya Kun, Piya Milenge, or Piya Ghar Aaya.

There are different ways people interpret the presence of this significant half. A common one is the struggle between heart and mind. The heart represents the significant half. While the mind forces you to think rationally, with logical assertions at every step, the heart is irrational, stubborn, and immovable in the face of the world's workings. Buddhism offers a similar perspective. It sees the mind as a separate entity, filling us with consciousness and providing senses for our perception of the world. Only our soul, which is eternal and our true identity, truly belongs to us. This aligns with Sufism. When you choose to look inward and discover your true self, you discover your significant other, your Piya, or the divine itself.

Your true self is reflected in how the world perceives you. It fuels the passion in your actions. The divine power builds the unknown paths and grants you the courage to trust it and walk on them. There are only a handful of people who have the courage to listen to their hearts and discover themselves. They do the things their hearts yearn for. That's where an artist is born. For them, success and wealth are merely worldly parameters; their faith for their work keeps them burning throughout life.

Having explored the love for one's passion as a dwelling place for the divine, let's now turn our attention to another form of love, one more akin to the common understanding. One of the most misinterpreted stories is Nizami's Layla and Majnun. People often consider it a tragic love story where Majnun loses everything. In our society, such intense devotion might even be considered an unhealthy obsession. However, the story delves deeper, suggesting a different kind of love. Layla's name, meaning "dark" in Arabic, signifies not just her skin tone, but the mystery she embodied for Majnun. Her beauty lied in his eyes. Even after being separated for life, Majnun's faith in Layla remains unwavering. He carried her essence within him, a concept very similar to the one described above, where the divine resides within each individual. Majnun loved Layla so much so that she was transformed into a divine form.  Explaining this profound state of love to someone who hasn't experienced it is difficult. It's not delusional, but rather, an exceptionally beautiful love. Your love transcends all dimensions – you fall in love with the very idea of love, the beloved themself in their entirety, and perhaps even a connection to something greater.

The human experience often grapples with two seemingly opposing ways of understanding the world: logic and faith. Logic, fueled by reason and evidence, drives us to make sense of the world around us. Faith, on the other hand, focuses on belief and intuition, offering solace and meaning beyond the tangible. This isn't a binary choice, however. Many people navigate a spectrum between these two forces throughout life. We may find ourselves drawn towards logic to solve problems or towards faith to find inner peace.

In Sufism, the concepts of faith and love are intertwined; love is faith, and faith is love. If destroying a temple is considered a sin, then so is shattering someone's faith in anything. It's a sin to force someone into doing something that doesn't ignite their passion, or to separate lovers whose faith lies in each other, or to bring conflict that destroys someone's home, or to betray the trust of someone who has faith in you, or be exploitative of someone who is weak. In essence, it's a sin to lack faith in someone else's faith. For within faith resides the divine, and the divine is where love dwells. Love, in turn, fosters faith. The temple, then, becomes a symbol of safeguarding the divine, which is, again, synonymous with love and faith.