Into My Heart

Many a times in Mosques have I asked myself: “Is this Muslim society? Are we to go back to the inhumanity of Hajjaj?"

Instead of reforming our lives on the model of our professed beliefs, we go on with our bickering and quarrelling and striving, with our jealousies and vain desires, until an intelligent observer wonders if this faith is nothing but a snare, and thy profession nothing more than a lie.

But friends, I may pause. I have not finished the story of love. It is like God’s supreme piece of art rolling along through the mist of galaxies, ready to unshackle itself and shower mercy upon us all. There is no beginning, there is no end, and Lovers, let us take ourselves into our hearts, into our everyday life the passages of love as we have read them here tonight.

For us with the fevered brow there is no North nor South, no green nor yellow, no nationality nor any sects.

I came to you today to tell you in my own feeble way this original story of love, as old as God’s world itself.

Is it not after all-the only story worth telling?

Khana ka joh maza ttha

Woh ab nahi raha

Arey Khuda, kuch ttho bataa

Ke qurbani dehte huwe

Ab teri kya razaa?

It’s from الله