“My hometown, Dawood, is a small town in the Sialkot district. However, I was actually born in a village near Pakpattan, which is in the same city and its surroundings. It was during those formative years when the mind sometimes halts in thought, and the heart occasionally forgets to beat. What we do during such moments often
Around twenty years ago, I was a student in the 6th or 7th grade at a Madrasah located within the same city. While pursuing my Madrasa education, I had already delved into the books of Dars-e-Nizāmī, possibly up to “Kāfiah” and “Sharḥ Jāmī.” The gates to the city of knowledge had been thrown wide open, and I used to visit the city’s municipal library every day after the Asr prayer, eager to observe the bustling activities of the market. My house was situated on the outskirts of the library, making it a convenient daily stroll. The intoxication of learning is a remarkable phenomenon.
I walked to the library tirelessly for years, never feeling fatigued.
ت سی ن ہار رد یگ تس خ ار ںا بل اط
ت س ل ز ن م دو خ م ہ و ت س ہار دو خ ق ش ع
وک ھ ج م مد ر ہ ہک ق و ش ی گ ناوی د ےاو
انو ہ ںاریح ی ہ پ آ روا رھ د اُ انا ج پ
Love is their path, and we ourselves are the destination.
The following day, when he handed me the book, I devoured its contents. It marked the first time in my life that I truly grasped the importance of a well-structured argument. This knowledge has remained the most valuable asset in my life to this day, and I had received it from a humble security guard. Subsequently, I pursued the study of philosophy and English literature at the prominent school in Lahore.
Days passed in a state of confusion and bewilderment. One evening, on my way back from the library, engrossed in reading a scholarly book about the caliphate, I suddenly found the same security guard blocking my path. His face caught my attention, and I noticed water droplets from his recent ablution. His eyes gleamed with an inner light, and the beauty of devotion adorned his forehead. He asked me with warmth, ‘Will you read this book? Do you read such knowledge-rich books in addition to your course materials?’ I responded affirmatively. To my astonishment, he continued the conversation in Arabic, asking me how I had learned the language.
For a moment, I couldn’t believe my ears. I gazed at his face and then at his uniform.
I encountered many uninformed people dressed as scholars, but this was the first
He instructed me to read the book I was carrying, a work by a great scholar. He promised to provide me with another book in which this work had been academically critiqued. He emphasized that in the world of knowledge, individuals don’t matter; it’s the strength of the argument that holds significance.
One day, on my way to the library, I noticed that the security guard’s eyes were fixed on me from a distance. At a young age, it was the first time my heart and mind encountered such a situation, leaving me with a mix of fear and curiosity. This scenario repeated itself over several days, and eventually, curiosity overcame my initial fear and astonishment. I desired to understand the reason behind his watchful eyes but lacked the courage to inquire. He, too, appeared to want to convey something but couldn’t find the words. It reminded me of Ghalib, who found himself in a similar dilemma in his pursuit of love when he said: ‘There is etiquette, and this is
ےج ی ک ا ی ک وت ش کم ش ک ی ہ ی روا ے ب دا
و ہ رک ںو یک وت و گ م وگ ی ہ ی روا ے ا یح
Yet, I cannot say I learned anything more valuable there. Throughout my educational journey, I secretly wished that my classmates and teachers could have experienced what I did near that bank. Many years later, during my visit to
Pakpattan last month, I encountered Wali Muhammad at the same bank’s entrance.
He stood exactly where I had first seen him twenty years ago. I don’t know if anyone else has had the privilege of gaining knowledge from him, or if:
دع ب ےریم ادا و زادنا یل و ز ع م یئ و
‘Someone else may become the beloved, but not in my style and