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He was truly jamil (beautiful); his countenance, his character,
his manners. Though his life was a blend of beauty, his death
was even more so. He abhorred being served on but spent all
his life serving others. It wasn't because he did not have
caring people around him, he did; respectful students, loving
friends, devoted companions with the same slant of mind….but
he enjoyed serving others, not just elders but also people
younger than him. This was not merely a formality either.
He had divided his life in three different sections one of
which was service. He spent a lot of time, energy, and other
resources on this division of his life.
He considered it a blessing to wait on elderly scholars and
ulema. He hosted them at his home, provided them with medical
aid to the maximum measure, he used to feed them with his
own hands, give them their medicine, massage them, take them
on Umrah with him, facilitate their rites as much as he could,
pushed their wheel chairs, helped them in wudhu. If anyone
else insisted on having a share of the service he refused.
He used to be drenched in sweat, he had to give up a large
chunk of his night's sleep but serving others was his comfort
and joy. The elders gave him loads of du'as and the yougers
blessed him; that is why every eye was brimming over at his
departure and his comrades were sobbing their hearts out.
The flowing tears would just not stop. The younger ones of
course had a sense of deprivation but we also heard the elder
ones saying, "We have been orphaned this day." What
kind of a man was he that the grief of his departure was felt
so acutely by everyone?
I saw the Maulana when he was 20 and I saw him when he was
53. God knows whether it was my imagination or an illusion
that I observed no change in the manner of his walk, talk,
or any other demeanour with advancement of age. True, his
hair had turned snowy but the level of his activity was the
same. He was on the go all the time, he could never sit still.
He used to walk very fast, drive very fast; he drove the vehicle
of his life at an unrelenting pace too, never caring whether
it was day or night, hot or cold, autumn or spring, journey
or halt. He was effected neither by the praise of his friends
nor was the criticism of foes able to stop him.
The way he had chalked out for himself with the direction
of his elders was the one he walked and in a mere 53 years
he did what others would not have been able to do in hundred
years. He had had a glimpse of his destination, a destination
that seemed so dazzling that it had put a swiftness in his
step. He had seen this destination in the martyrdom of Dr.
Habibullah Mukhtar, Mufti Abdus Sami', Maulana Muhammad Yousuf
Ludhyanwi, Mufti Nizamuddin Shamazai (rahimullah 'anhum).
He knew that sooner or later he would reach the same end,
that robe of honour that adorned the shoulders of his companions
and elders would one day be his too.
Joking, jesting, and pleasantries were his habit; or maybe
he had adopted them to unwind from mental exertions. Whether
the gathering consisted of seniors or juniors, his string
of jokes were unending. Sometimes he would say, "Maulvi
Sahib, hurry up! Everyone is going away and it will soon be
our turn. It looks like there won't be anyone left to write
us a eulogy. Come on let's do it ourselves then, before we
go."
The
worthlessness of the salt of the earth and the regularly lifting
hearses have thrown all people of perception into the same
worry. We are all engulfed in a vast darkness; arrows are
flying here and there and there is no saying when one of them
will find its mark. The assailants have a list but the assaulted
are unaware when their bodies will be freed of the weight
of their necks. All announcements of unity, all cries protests,
all steps of security are proving to be useless. The people
who went before the Maulana had fixed timings of coming and
going but this was not the case with him.
He had decided on staying in Lahore on Saturday and on Sunday
he was to reach Karachi with Hazrat Maulana Arshad Madani,
who had probably come to visit Pakistan on his invitation.
But fate brought them earlier to Karachi. He usually got home
by ten or eleven but that day he set out for home after 'Asr
because of the arrival of some near relatives. Who knew he
was off not to his temporary home but his everlasting one.
Just a few hours before his martyrdom I had asked him on the
phone to let Hazrat Madani give some time to Jamia tur Rasheed.
But he had said, "Because of the alarming situation it
has been decided to keep him restricted to Binnory Town only."
He had wanted to save Hazrat Madani from the dangers but became
a victim himself. Selfless people are like this; they think
more of others than themselves.
They keep awake so their companions can sleep; they remain
hungry so their friends can eat. The Hajj companions of Maulana
tell that during the Pilgrimage his sacrifices were a thing
to see. He ate after all others had had their fill and slept
after all others were soundly slumbering. When it came to
carrying luggage, the heaviest load would be on his shoulders.
None of his companions can forget his du'a at Arafat. There
would be a crowd of five or six hundred; a little way off,
Jable Noor would be recalling the sobbing invocations of a
divine man. In this aura everyone, from the common to the
singular would request only Maulana Jamil for supplications.
When he put up his hands in prayer, tears would start rolling
down cheeks, sobs and sighs would rush from throats, you would
imagine a bubbling sighing stew on the stove. There would
not be a dry face in the entire group. Those who thought him
to be a light hearted person saw another facet of his personality
here; a person who cried and lamented and prayed for the honour
and unison of the ummah.
The world is a blend of strange and secret things. Many are
those who have donned the mask of humility and modesty but
their hearts are stinking with arrogance; then there are those
whom we think proud but who consider themselves less than
the dust under the feet of righteous men. They laugh in company
and cry (to Allah) when alone. Superficial observers often
mistake identities. So many are thought to be useful but are
in fact useless and so many are thought to be useless but
are in fact useful. Maulana's greatness wasn't that he himself
was doing an immense amount of work. His real greatness was
that his encouragement, supervision, and guidance motivated
others to work. His habit of taking others with him for good
work was so entrenched that he did not go alone even on the
journey of martyrdom; he took Maulana Tonsi with him. Like
someone said, he was like an engine pulling even the rusted
cabins with it; in the absence of an engine bright new cabins
would be worthless too.
May Allah have mercy on this ummah because day by day it is
being deprived of motivating leadership. Maulana was so mobile
that sometimes even his close friends would not know his whereabouts.
His mornings in Karachi and evenings in Lahore, Jumuah in
Pakistan and Saturday in Britain. His tours were for education
and preaching. There would hardly have been a more active
scholar in the Majlis Tahaffuz Khatme Nubuwwat. The annual
conference for the committee is held in Britain but he was
always the central figure for its arrangements. He took part
in the conference for an unbroken twenty years.
He laid the foundation for the "Iqra Educational Society".
At present there are 38 thousand students In 108 branches
of Iqra Rauza tul Atfaal, and by this time hundreds of thousands
of boys and girls have completed their Hifz e Quran from the
institution. These statistics are for the original branches
of Iqra, the thousands of others that cropped up in every
town and neighbourhood have their own success story. English
schools because of their uniforms, the clean campuses, the
discipline, and the gentleness with which the teachers taught
impressed parents. The Iqra schools came up to these standards
playing a key role in bringing parents and their offspring
nearer to Qur'anic teachings. This system became so popular
that old madaris too were forced to revise their educational
system.
Maulana was also the member and speaker of the central Majlise
Shura of Aalmi Tahaffuz Khatme Nubuwwat, he was also a supporter
of the mujahideen, and a sponsor of madaris. It is amazing
how one man was able to do so much.
After his martyrdom it was being pondered how his services
would be continued. One companion suggested that they would
have to appoint a different person for each area that he was
serving so his works could be carried on. At this another
companion pointed out that they would be able to find the
people to hold the fort but where would they find his sincerity
and individuality? Not one of the audience had an answer to
that. Grief struck their hearts and tears wet their eyes.
The only thing agreed on was that there was nothing to do
but endure the sorrow with patience; what else can one do
on "Shahadat e Jamil" but "Sabre Jamil?"
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