Memories (Episode 1)

An English translation of “Yadein”, the autobiography of Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Taqi Usmani (dāmat barakātuhum), Vice President, Darul Uloom Karachi. Translation by Kaiser Nizamani.

I hesitate to write or call myself a Deobandi in terms of track/school of thought (maslak) because doing so smells of sectarianism, and also because some people, when they hear the word Deobandi Maslak, have the misconception that Deobandi is a religious sect that has taken a different path from the majority of the Muslim Ummah. In reality, the scholars affiliated to the school of thought of Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband, in their beliefs and actions, subscribe to the same balanced interpretation of the Qur’an and the Prophetic sunnah which the Ummah has been inheriting from generation to generation for the past fourteen hundred years. They have not laid foundation to a new sect, rather they uphold the same beliefs and follow the same actions which the mainstream majority of the Ummah has accepted and has been acting upon. However, if ever they saw adulteration heading towards those beliefs and actions, they did try to remove it with wisdom and steadfastness. Due to this, some people who bore malice towards them tried to give an impression that Deobandi is a separate sect. On this topic, Hakīm al-Islam Hadhrat Mawlana Qari Muhammad Tayyib’s (may Allah have mercy on him) book Ulama-i-Deoband ka Dini Rukh aur Maslaki Mizaj (The Religious Way and Temperament of the Scholars of Deoband) is an excellent work, and I have further explained this point in its introduction. However, the point I am making here is that despite considering the scholars of Deoband as my ideals in religious matters, I hesitate to call myself a “Deobandi” in terms of school of thought because this smells of sectarianism. But I am certainly a Deobandi in terms of my place of birth, for by the favour and grace of Allah Most High, I had the good fortune of being born in the town where Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband produced such mountains of knowledge and excellence, determination and steadfastness, and exaltedness of character, the equals of which it is difficult to find in this last era.

In Deoband, our ancestors were famously known by the title of “Mianji”. “Mianji” was a title in those times about which my respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) has written:

“The elementary schools, spread throughout villages and towns, used to teach the Noble Qur’an, and after that Urdu, Persian and Mathematics. The standard of their education was higher than today’s middle schools. The teachers in those elementary schools, who alongside religious knowledge possessed purity in their actions, were called by the title of “Mianji”. For example, Mianji Nūr Muhammad, who was the shaykh[1] of Haji Imdad Allah Muhajir Makki (may Allah have mercy on them both), was famous in Lohari, and Mianji Munnay Shah was an elder in Deoband from whom kashf[2] and karamāt[3] were witnessed.”

My respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) has also written:

“I could not find any reliable genealogy of my ancestors with a chain of trustworthy narrators. However, the Shari’ah has not stipulated a condition of a continuous chain of trustworthy narrators in such matters; rather whatever is famous on the tongues of one’s elders is considered sufficient. I have heard from many elders of my family that our family are the descendants of Sayyiduna Usman (may Allah be pleased with him).”[4]

I was born on the 5^th of Shawwal 1362 AH – I saw this very date written in my respected father’s (may Allah have mercy on him) diary. Since in those times, only Hijri months and years were used for recording dates, my respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) did not write the corresponding Gregorian date. But later, after using various conversion calendars, it was found to correspond to the 3^rd of October 1943. And I also heard this incident from my respected mother (may Allah have mercy on her) and siblings that on the day I was born, a snake fell from the roof onto the very bed on which I was laid. Had this snake not been removed from the bed and killed, perhaps this world would have been spared my misdeeds [Could we consider a better word here? Shakir].

Nevertheless, I got to spend only four years and seven months (October 1943 to May 1948) of my life in the town of Deoband. I only spent that phase of my childhood there in which a child is oblivious to everything besides his world of play and amusement, and later when he grows up, he forgets the details of that period. But I remember many events of my childhood in Deoband as if I am seeing them with my eyes today.

This was a time when the houses of Deoband did not have electricity, fans, taps with running water, nor oil or gas stoves. Candles or lanterns were used instead of electric light bulbs. Instead of taps, water was stored in clay po, and the services of a water carrier were often employed to fill them, who would carry a large leather water bag and deliver the water house-to-house. Fashionable and well-to-do localities would install a common borewell. The metal handle of this borewell would be pushed up and down to extract water, which would be filled in a bucket or jug. Besides obtaining water, a side-benefit of operating this device was that the hands, rather the entire body, would receive a decent workout. Since I was too young to bear such rigorous physical activity, I would amuse myself watching others swing from its handle. For drinking water in homes, clay were used, which would become quite cool when buffeted by blasts of hot wind. Instead of electric fans, hand-held fans were employed, which are nostalgically remembered even today during power outages.

In May and June, when the throbbing heat would radiate from buildings and walls, a water carrier (who would also be called bhishti or mashki) would sprinkle water from his water bag onto the brick floor of the courtyards. A swish of the hand-held fan would summon the motionless air towards one’s face, and an earthy scent would stir up from the moist floor at the same time, thus offering prospective whiffs of coolness. In this kind of weather, when I would lie down in the courtyard on a netted charpoy with my mother, there would be no veil of gas, petrol or diesel between me and the star-studded sky, and neither would the tiniest star in the sky be dimmed out by artificial lights. I would gaze for long at the web of the galaxy and the whiteness emanating from it, surrounded by scintillating stars. We children would think that this is a road that Allah Most High has created for angels. I would fall asleep imagining angels diving down and soaring up this celestial highway.

I wish to begin narrating these memories with some miscellaneous events from my childhood. However, it is necessary to first introduce the members of my household at that time.

There is no need to introduce my respected father Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Shafiʿ (may Allah have mercy on him) because I am known because of him, and not he because of me.[5] Whatever I am today is due to my connection with him. If by Allah’s grace I received any goodness, then it was through him; and if any evil has come, it is because of not taking benefit from his company. In short, whatever I am, I am his:

اگر سیاہ دلم، داغ لالہ زارِ توام
وگر کشادہ جبینم، گلِ بہارِ توام

Therefore, he will be mentioned again and again throughout this account Inshā Allah.

From the time I opened my eyes, I found my respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) engaged in two activities. By that time, he had resigned from the post of Grand Mufti of Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband and also from teaching there. However, many students wished to attain the honour of studying under him, so at their request, he would teach them at home. This arrangement was what is today known as tuition and coaching. But a fundamental difference is that while today teaching tuition is a major source of income, in madrasas (Islamic seminaries) the relationship between a teacher and student is free from personal financial gains. This is to such an extent that if the classroom lessons are perceived to be insufficient for certain students, teachers would not only happily conduct extra classes for them, rather they would fulfill the rights of the students with full responsibility. And to charge students any remuneration for this was considered blameworthy in the madrasa environment, regardless of the poor financial condition of the teacher. Thus, my respected father would teach students with this same motivation at our home or in the mosque.

The name of our neighbourhood mosque was “Ādīni Masjid”[6] but people used to call it “Dīni Masjid”. Initially, our paternal grandfather Hadhrat Mawlana Muhammad Yasin[7] (may Allah have mercy on him) was its trustee. Later, my respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) became the trustee and would sometimes also conduct lessons there.

The second activity was that whenever he was at home, I found him mostly engaged in writing something. Even during summer nights, a lantern would be hung at a door to light up the courtyard of our house. My respected father would be seen dipping his wooden pen (which was called a “kilk pen” at the time) in ink and writing something under the light of that lantern. Fountain pens were not in vogue in those days. He had also made a small room next to his sitting place which we used to call “ḥujra”. This was his place of worship from where the sound of his recitation of Qur’an and dhikr would be heard.

How could I have appreciated my father’s scholarly and practical accomplishments during that period of my childhood? (I haven’t truly recognized them even today). Nonetheless, in my small world, he was the center of my love, affection and admiration. He, too, used to love me. Almost all my elder brothers have experienced his scolding and disciplining, together with his love, but only his love came in my share. Once (when I was around twelve years old) I accompanied my late mother to visit my elder brother in Lahore. At that time, my respected father wrote in a letter to my elder brother:

“It is also difficult for me to pass the days without Muhammad Taqi (may Allah keep him safe).”

I only remember him travelling once during our stay in Deoband, to Madras, in which being separated from him was very difficult to bear for me. The salt on the wound was that at the time of his return I had convinced my brothers to let me accompany them to the railway station to receive him. The main motivation of going there was to receive my father, but there were also two other benefits I had in mind. Firstly, we would have to take a tonga (horse-drawn carriage) to go to the railway station. A Hindu tonga-man called Phaggu was famous in our locality. He would be pre-booked for such occasions, which we duly did. We rarely got the chance to travel in a tonga because nearby distances would be covered by walking and slightly farther distances would be traversed in a palanquin with my respected mother. We seldom travelled such distances where a tonga would be required. The trip to the railway station would, therefore, entail me getting to enjoy this royal mode of transport, the very thought of which was rather enticing. Secondly, the railway station itself was a great place of amusement for us, which we rarely got to visit. Today was therefore a rather delightful occasion for us on many fronts.

However, just when we were about to leave, somehow my hand got and I had to remain at home for treatment. I was thus deprived of the trip to the station. This was a deprivation on many fronts, thus I remember the sense of deprivation of that occasion till today. However, I cannot forget, thereafter, the blissful moment when my respected father entered our home. Before turning his attention to anything else, he called out for me, and, taking a few hastened steps towards me, took me in his arms. In the lantern-lit courtyard, his dense black beard and beaming face brimming with joyfulness and love is engraved in my memory as if I am looking at him now.

*****

“One’s worship whilst consuming the prohibited is like constructing a building on top of the waves of the oceans.”

Ihyā’u ‘Ulūmid Dīn, by Imam Ghazāli

[1] Translator: Shaykh: Spiritual mentor

[2] Translator: Kashf: Unveiling of normally hidden knowledge

[3] Translator: Karamāt: Miracles

[4] These details of our genealogy are recorded in my respected father’s (quddisa sirruhu) book “Meray Wālid-e-Mājid” (“My Respected Father”).

[5] And Alhamdulillah I have described him in some detail in my book “My Father, My Shaykh”, and the Mufti-e-Aʿẓam edition of Al-Balagh was also published under my editorship. Besides other articles, it also contains a detailed biography written by my respected brother Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Rafiʿ Usmani (mudda ẓilluhum), which was later published as a separate book. This book mentions our family and ancestors.

[6] “Ādīna” means “Friday” in Persian and “Ādīni” meant the mosque in which Friday prayer took place.

[7] Hadhrat Mawlana Muhammad Yasin (may Allah have mercy on him) was born one year before the establishment of Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband, in the year 1282 A.H, and was therefore almost the same age as Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband. I have heard the following words of his from my respected father many times: “We saw the time when everyone (in Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband) from the Shaykh al-Hadith to the security guard was a ṣaḥib al-nisbah wali of Allah”. This grandfather of ours was a special disciple of Quṭb al-Aqṭāb Hadhrat Mawlana Rashīd Ahmad Gangohi and was a contemporary of Hakīm al-Ummah Hadhrat Mawlana Ashraf Ali Thanwi (may Allah have mercy on him). He taught Persian and Mathematics at Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband all his life, and generations of residents of Deoband attained the honour of being his student. My respected father has detailed his biography in his book “Meray Wālid-e-Mājid” (“My Respected Father”).