August
26 , 2005
Sufi Sage of
Philadelphia and His Devotee from Toronto
I had met him thirty years back
in Colombo when he was on a visit to his native
land from Philadelphia where a vast number of his
dedicated disciples had moved him from Colombo.
I was stationed there at that time and a friend,
Prof. Akhtar Imam, took me to the house of Macan
Markar, a prominent Muslim jeweler, where the holy
man was staying. He struck me as an old, emaciated
and physically insignificant person but with rare
penetrating eyesight.
He was sitting cross-legged on a platform, addressing
scores of his devotees sitting tight on the floor.
He was speaking in Tamil, a Dravidian language of
South India, far beyond my comprehension.
In a corner of that room I found a group of hippie-type
white young men and women, tape-recording his discourse.
I attributed this to the strange ways of the hippie
culture prevalent at the time. Presently, some one
brought a bunch of bananas to him and he tossed
one to me.
I heard someone proclaim that he was 160 years of
age; another said he was over 300, yet another added
that he had known him for over 60 years and he had
always looked the same.
I took it all to be no more than folklore floated
by his jealous followers.
Last month (July, 05), on a visit to my daughter
in Pennsylvania, I read a mention of a Sufi saint
of Sri Lanka, Bawa Muhaiyaddeen, whose mausoleum,
mazar, was in the vicinity of Philadelphia. This
was in a message posted on the website ‘Writers-Forum’
by the well-known writer, poet and editor, Munir
Sami. He confirmed to me that the saint was the
same person that I had met in Colombo.
A few days later we drove the 100 miles to reach
the exquisitely beautiful, lush green area of rolling
hills, tall trees with trunks covered with ivy and
other creepers. Sitting on the top of a hill amidst
this scenic beauty of Chester County was the white
mausoleum built in the tradition of Mogul architecture
– the first of its kind in the US. Behind
it was a cemetery containing graves of the Sufi’s
followers whose tombstones showed that many of them
were converts to Islam.
A week later I had to go to Toronto to attend a
family wedding. Mr. Munir Sami came to visit me
and took me to the local chapter of the Fellowship
set up by the Sufi and his followers. I met there
Sharon Marcus who gave me a copy of her fascinating
book “My Years With the Qutb: A Walk in Paradise”
which had just been published.
The book is an honest, objective and fascinating
account of the twelve years spent by her in the
company of the divine figure. A little note on the
back page points out: “This book is for all
those who have wondered what it is like to sit with
a sanctified master of wisdom, absorbing his love,
his grace and the transformational teachings which
illuminate the path to God.”
Sharon Marcus is the author of nine books of poetry,
four novels, a collection of short stories, three
works of non-fiction and numerous book reviews.
She remained associated with the CBC for several
years.
Her companion, husband, Sayyid Ahamed, a convert
from Christianity, a classic singer and accomplished
viola player, was like Sharon herself given to spiritual
pursuits, and both were “earnest seekers of
enlightenment, illumination, the truth”. Before
the truth dawned on them, both had led a Bohemian
life, given to drinks and drugs, and regarded marriage
a Victorian vestige and experimented with the rituals
of various spiritual precepts without much satisfaction.
Then, a lawyer friend informed them that a real
teacher would be visiting Toronto for five days
to deliver talks at different locations. Their schedule
to give concerts that very week in Ottawa was unexpectedly
cancelled by the organizers, thus affording them
the blessing of connecting with the “exquisitely
ancient being”, the perfected human, insan-i-kamil,
and the Qutb in Sufi terminology.
His origin has faded into myth and mystery. The
author, who subsequently became very close to the
sanctified being could not or did not probe into
his past. For, “an ego less person does not
accumulate a personal history.”
“We know”, she writes “that he
was the king of some small kingdom probably in India,
that he gave it all away, that he spent years in
all the major religions studying, seeking and searching
for God, that he was identified in the jungles of
Sri Lanka early in the 20th century, persuaded to
leave the jungle and teach in Colombo”. Finally
his American disciples brought him to Philadelphia
in 1971where he spent most of his time till his
death in December 1986.
At the time of his demise, his bones had become,
owing to age, so brittle that they could break under
the slightest stress.
He had some knowledge of Tamil and Arabic scripts.
Otherwise, he was virtually unlettered. He is, nevertheless,
author of some 30 publications, all dictated. Many
of these have been translated into English and other
languages. His first significant book was Maya Veeram,
written as far back as 1940. Sharon Marcus, who
translated it into English forty years later, found
it to be “a revelation of the prophetic storyteller
in the tradition of the Mathnavi”.
Describing her initial impression of the sanctified
person, she writes: “Certainly there was an
intensity of light pouring from him, a power that
was formidable, electrifying and present, yet modified
by an incredible gentleness.”
His words, she felt, always spread across a great
spectrum of understanding, “each of us assimilating
at a level appropriate for our own capacity”.
The teachings that poured from him “in a tireless,
purifying stream were the highest abstraction I
would ever encounter”.
For serious students of Sufism, her two chapters
on Dhikr would be of particular interest.
Sharon Marcus, a student of philosophy at college,
and a rationalist by conviction with an open mind
in her search for truth, could easily set aside
her Jewish breeding and the temptation as a poet
and artist to mythologize the personality of her
Sheikh and paint a spiced up version of his feats.
She has successfully skirted folklore and has even
shown distaste for myths built by his over-zealous
devotees. Yet, her devotion to her spiritual master
was next to none. That is what makes her account
so riveting.
She does not ignore mentioning that Bawa used to
be a cigarette addict before he gave it up and smoked
subsequently a pipe or cigar mainly in his bathroom.
He ditched these too, as well as snuff. He was fond
of watching Hindi, Telegu and biblical English films.
He composed Telegu songs and sang them at random.
He was fond of cooking and according to Sharon whatever
he cooked, often for as many as 200 guests, was
“not only delicious but a culinary masterpiece”.
These traits showed that he was a human, not an
ethereal, being as made out by some of his devotees.
But, he had the heavenly quality of unmitigated
love for his fellow beings and zeal to help them
towards righteousness and the path to a happy life
and to God Himself.
The house where he lived in Philadelphia is now
a Fellowship named after him with a beautiful mosque
nearby designed by him and built under his guidance
by his followers, most of them eminent doctors,
lawyers and other professionals.
Sharon Marcus’ book can be had from www.sufipress.com
and she can be contacted at (416) 963-9027. For
specific information about the Sufi, his Mazar or
Fellowship, please reach www.bmf.org.
- arifhussaini@hotmail.com August 16, 05
