Naeem Ahmad Baloch
To bear this grief required strength like a mountain, and Maulana’s patience indeed proved to be like a mountain. Yet despite this, he was still a human being of flesh and blood, and moreover a person of an extremely sensitive heart. Eventually he was compelled to write:
“There is no doubt that this incident had shaken me completely from within, but now my Lord has steadied me. Sometimes in solitude I still feel like weeping, but Alhamdulillah, I have no complaint to my Lord in this matter. My heart is completely satisfied that whatever has happened contains goodness for everyone—in it is the good of the deceased as well, of his little children, of his grieving widow, and also of his sorrow-stricken parents and brothers and sisters.” (Monthly Mithāq, Lahore, June 1965)
The severe impact that this incident had on Maulana’s life was evident to everyone, but in reality it was also a national tragedy. In this regard Maulana writes:
If the grief of Abu Salih had been my personal grief alone, I would not have mentioned it in these pages. Rather, I would have kept it as a secret within my chest and carried it with me to the grave. But the nature of the incident has turned it into a national sorrow. Abu Salih was no longer mine alone; he belonged to his nation. His abilities were the capital of the whole nation. His life was short, but it was magnificent. One may say that he rose from ‘Kohistan’, shone in ‘Mashriq’, and set in ‘Cairo’; yet in that brief span his pen secured for his work and his name an everlasting place in the history of journalism in the country. What is thirty-six years of age? Yet within this short life he attained such a position in journalism that today the leading figures and masters of our press count him among the foremost founders of modern journalism! In the eyes of a father a son always remains a child—and he was still a child—but the maturity, freshness, and creativity of his writing astonished even me. Sometimes I would think in my heart that if this boy were granted life, my family too might render some service to journalism and to the Urdu language. This aspect of his life has a collective significance, and for this reason I have written these few lines. If my health permits, perhaps in the next issue of Mithaq I will try to shed light on some aspects of his life that only I know as his father. Perhaps promising young people may benefit from them. Had this benefit not been in view, as I have said, I would not have liked to express a single word of this grief—one should weep only in solitude. (Monthly Mithāq, Lahore, June 1965)
As promised, Maulana wrote a second article on this topic in the following issue. Important excerpts from it are given below:
This issue of Mithāq has been compiled under extremely distressing circumstances. I cannot say what has been written and what has been printed. Even under normal conditions delay had become the routine of this magazine, but now, given the circumstances and problems in which I am entangled, I cannot say whether this journal will even continue with disorder and irregularity or not. During this period I also had to deal with the complications of moving houses, because in order to take care of the children of the late Abu Salih I had to move from Rahmanpura to Ferozepur Road, and until now no such house has been obtained in which it would be possible for me to live together with these children. The office of Mithāq has also been temporarily shifted to another place. Everything is entangled, and only God knows whether any way will be found to untangle this confusion. (Monthly Mithāq, Lahore, July 1965)
Societies rarely value the people of their own time; they mostly build statues only of the people of history. Today the world knows Imam Amin Ahsan Islahi, and countless people would be ready to sacrifice life and wealth for him. Yet when he was passing through the greatest tragedy of his life, even a suitable arrangement for residence was not possible. One can gain a faint idea of the conditions and emotional state he was in from the lines above. Now consider the following excerpt:
For quite some time I had almost withdrawn from all other engagements except the commentary Tadabbur- e-Quran and the circle of Quranic reflection. Responsibilities, whether domestic or outside, felt burdensome to me. Because of financial necessity I had to give some attention to the small amount of agricultural land we had, but even this I did only under compulsion. My sons had taken up their responsibilities very gracefully, and now they were capable enough that I hoped they would discharge the few responsibilities related to me even better than I could. But the sudden death of the late Abu Salih completely changed the entire picture of circumstances. Now not only are my own responsibilities once again demanding my attention, but the late Abu Salih has also placed his responsibilities upon my frail shoulders. He has left behind six very small children, the eldest of whom is only eight years old. These children have been brought up in a particular way (in rather good circumstances), and because they lived far from me they are not very familiar with me either. Their innocence can be seen from the fact that one night my granddaughter—who in appearance, temperament, and habits is a complete reflection of her late father—asked her grandmother before sleeping: ‘Mother! What kind of frock does Allah wear?’ She replied, ‘A frock of light.’ This answer remained preserved in her memory. In the morning when she woke up and her grandmother bathed her and tried to change her frock, she became upset and insisted that she would wear a frock of light! She became so stubborn about the ‘frock of light’ that it turned into a problem for the entire household. Eventually I had to intervene with my modern theological arguments, and only then was the dispute settled.
From childhood I had memorized the deeply moving elegy that Maulana Shibli Nomani wrote for his brother Maulvi Ishaq. Among the verses that I particularly liked was the one in which Maulana refers to the children of the late Maulvi Ishaq:
Ladle hain ke kisi aur ke bas ke bhi Nahin Us ke bachche abhi saat aath baras ke bhi nahin
They are such beloved children that no one else can manage them; his children are not even seven or eight years old yet.
I often used to recite this verse with deep emotion. Now the secret has been revealed as to why I liked it so much. It became clear that Maulana had not only narrated the story of his own heart’s pain in this verse but had also included my pain within it. It has always been my firm belief that a person likes only those poems in which he hears the echoes of his own heart. (Monthly Mithāq, Lahore, July 1965)
While explaining the wisdom behind this trial that came from Allah Almighty, he also appears to engage in a deep self-examination. He writes:
I know very well that the responsibilities placed upon a person are assigned by God, and it is He who grants the ability and courage to bear them. The fear and apprehension that I am feeling is merely the result of deficiency in knowledge and a tendency of the temperament toward ease. The remaining tests will inevitably take place. They will not be postponed simply because I am afraid of the examination and have now begun to desire rest and relaxation after loosening my belt. These trials are the established practice of Allah, from which there is no escape under any circumstances. It is through them that a servant’s abilities are revealed
and his weaknesses are removed. Old age is no excuse for a person. Just as physical illnesses and weaknesses appear in old age, intellectual and spiritual illnesses also arise. When a person becomes dependent upon the ‘staff of old age’ (a walking stick), he begins to rely upon many improper supports. But Allah Almighty is extremely jealous regarding His Oneness; He does not wish His servant to place reliance on anyone besides Him. I feel that even at this stage of life a certain misplaced reliance had begun to develop within me. Although I had no personal need connected with Abu Salih, the pride and affection that a father feels for his son had unconsciously taken root in my heart as well. His fame and renown gave my heart pleasure. When people praised him, it felt as though my blood increased. When I saw his prosperous household, my heart rejoiced. When I would affectionately—or sometimes in irritation—call him a ‘fool,’ and he would smile and lower his gaze, I would feel proud that I could call one of the country’s renowned writers and leading journalists a ‘fool,’ and he would be pleased by such an address from me. In this way, without realizing it, within the reliance I had upon Abu Salih I had constructed in my heart a sanctuary of pride. On the morning of 20 May 1965, Divine power demolished that sanctuary. It is true that this incident caused me immense grief, but it is also a fact that after this event no veil remained between my Lord and me. My prayer is that Allah Almighty cause my end to come in such a state that my heart is purified from every trace of reliance upon anyone besides Him.
Some friends of the deceased have persistently expressed the desire that I write an article about his early circumstances and the distinctive features of his temperament… but not yet. At present my effort is simply to lessen the dominance of his memory over my heart so that I may become capable again of reading, writing, thinking, and reflecting. I do not imagine that Abu Salih possessed only virtues. No! He had faults as well, but in his faults I used to see the reflection of my own. When his mother would complain about such things, I would reply to her not to worry, for he had inherited those traits from his father. Just as age and experience have corrected the father’s mind, so too age and experience would correct his mind. Because of the traditions of my family, he maintained a certain reserve toward me, but that reserve was merely an outward veil. Behind that veil he was established in my heart just as deeply as I occupied his heart and mind. He had profound affection for his brothers, sisters, and relatives. He affectionately called his younger sister— Maryam Siddiqah—Munni!’ and fulfilled her every small and large wish without delay (it should be remembered that she was his step-sister). Recently when she fell ill, he devoted himself day and night to her care and nursing. When surgery became necessary, he made the best possible arrangements available in Lahore. His younger brother—Abu Sa‘d Salmah—is in India, and he was more concerned about him than even I was. Another younger brother—Abu Sa‘id Salmah—he had educated, and there was a plan for him to go to America in August 1965. His temperament was marked by dignity, generosity, and sympathy for others. Not only was no complaint ever heard regarding his character, but his close friends even testified under oath that they had not seen a young man with a more modest and pure gaze than his. I know that this quality in him did not arise out of deliberate piety, but rather from a natural nobility of temperament. Yet I was satisfied that this very nobility had protected him from many temptations. One aspect of this same nobility was that despite maintaining a high standard of living, he did not place a nameplate on his house, did not keep a telephone at home, and did not allow his photograph to be printed in newspapers. Indeed, he had instructed that even if his photograph appeared with a group, his image should be cut out and only the group photograph should be published. Likewise, he never put his name on his particular column, which had great popularity in the newspaper world.
His health was very good, and his eyes were always smiling. He read extensively and possessed wide knowledge, yet the burden of reading and information was not visible on his face. His face always remained as fresh and radiant as a blooming rose. Among forms of recreation, he was interested only in gathering with friends.
Most of his friends were older than him, yet it is commonly reported that in any gathering he attended, he stood out because of his eloquence, sound judgment, and breadth of knowledge. He did possess a desire to attain worldly success, but with great dignity and principle. Recently he received an important offer from a certain circle, but he declined it with remarkable indifference. His circle of acquaintances and relationships was very extensive across different social classes, yet he never attempted to derive personal benefit from it. Rather, he used those connections to help others in need. Pray that Allah Almighty overlook the weaknesses of the deceased and accept his good deeds!” (Monthly Mithāq, Lahore, July 1965)
RESOLUTION OF TANZIM–I ISLAMI
Because of the disagreements that arose at the Machhi Goth meeting of 1957, many members who separated from Jamaat-e Islami strongly desired to establish an alternative organizational structure. Efforts in this direction continued. Maulana Abdul Ghaffar Hasan (Faisalabad) and Shaykh Sultan Ahmad (Karachi) contacted individuals scattered throughout the country.
Maulana Islahi was not, in principle, in favor of establishing another organization, but despite this difference of opinion he agreed to cooperate at the strong insistence of these friends. However, he made it clear that he would be unable to assume any organizational responsibility.
Eventually, a gathering of like-minded scholars took place in Rahim Yar Khan from 6–9 September 1967. At this meeting a resolution was adopted for future work. According to it:
“In our view, the primary addressee of religion is the individual. His moral and spiritual development and his salvation are the principal subject of religion. Collective organization is sought only insofar as it assists the individual in achieving his ultimate objective—namely the attainment of the pleasure of Allah. (Maqalat- i Islahi, 2/355)
Maulana attended this gathering and also delivered a speech. Consequently, it was decided to establish an organization named Tanzim-i Islami, and a consultative council was appointed for it. The council consisted of the following seven members:
• Maulana Amin Ahsan Islahi • Maulana Abdul Ghaffar Hasan • Maulana Abdul Haqq Jami • Sardar Muhammad Ajmal Khan Laghari • Dr. Nazir Ahmad • Dr. Israr Ahmad • Shaykh Sultan Ahmad (Secretary)
Despite this, the organization could not ultimately be established. However, in accordance with the decisions of the council, Dr. Israr Ahmad began a weekly Dars-e Quran at his home, in which Maulana also delivered lessons on the final surahs of the Quran.
[To be continued…]