Memories (Episode 15)

At this point, it was probably necessary to provide a brief introduction to the Jamīʿat Ulama-e-Islam, whose tours I have previously mentioned, and also to answer a question that often arises in most people’s minds: Is the present Jamīʿat Ulama-e-Islam the same one, or is it a different one? However, at this moment, I am writing about memories from my childhood and adolescence, so it does not seem appropriate to delve into that story here. Inshā Allah, its mention will come at its proper place.

End of the Academic Year

Due to my travels to Lahore, Deoband, and the provinces of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Punjab, I remained absent from Dār al-ʿUlūm for over two months. As a result, my studies suffered significantly. Although I continued studying at Jāmiʿa Ashrafiya and Dār al-ʿUlūm Deoband for a period, it is evident that this could not serve as a substitute for a structured curriculum. Upon my return, there were barely three months left before the annual exams, so I had to put in considerable effort to make up for the lost time. My results for this year are recorded in the annual report of Dār al-ʿUlūm for Ramadan 1374 AH to Shaʿban 1375 AH, corresponding to May 1955 to April 1956, as follows:

It is noted in my diary that Mufti Sabir Ali conducted our exam on Kanz al-Daqāiq; Hadhrat Mawlana Sahban Mahmud conducted the exams on Al-Balāghah Al-Wāḍihah and Calligraphy; the exam on the translation of the Noble Qur’an was conducted by Mawlana Muhammad Matīn Khatīb; Mawlana Ziyarat Gul (who later changed his name to Abdul Haq at our respected father’s recommendation) conducted our exam on Sharḥ Jāmī. The exam on Maqāmāt Ḥarīrī consisted of a written paper. Mawlana Badī al-Zaman conducted our exam on Sharḥ Tahdhīb, Mufti Wali Hasan on Qutbī, while Mawlana Fadhl Muhammad conducted our exam on Usūl al-Shāshī. May Allah Most High have mercy on them all.

Practice Exercises in Tajwid

I was troubled by a sense of inadequacy because I had not completed a formal reading of the Noble Qur’an with a teacher. After reading the first seven ajzā with my teacher in childhood, I had completed the rest by reading on my own. As a result, there were quite a few shortcomings in my pronunciation. To remedy this, I practiced tajwīd under several qurrā during my study at Dār al-ʿUlūm. The first among them was the late Qāri Muhammad Ilyas, who was the son of Hadhrat Qāri Muhammad Yusuf (may Allah have mercy on him) — a classmate of our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) — and the brother-in-law of our brother, respected Muhammad Raḍi. He would conduct practice sessions in Qirā’ah at Dār al-ʿUlūm. I studied Jamāl al-Qur’an under him and began introductory lessons in the recitation of Surah Yusuf. Later, when Hadhrat Qāri Abdul Wahhab Makki (may Allah have mercy on him) was assigned this duty in Dār al-ʿUlum, I continued practicing under him and benefited from him. I still remember this point from his lessons: according to one riwayah in the Qira’ah of Hafs, ishmam occurs only once in the entire Qur’an, in the “nun” of the verse مَا لَكَ لَا تَأْمَنَّا in Surah Yusuf. In reciting this “nun”, the lips are shaped as they would be for a ḍammah, but the ḍammah itself is not actually pronounced.

After him was Hadhrat Qāri Hamid Hussein (may Allah have mercy on him), who was renowned in those days for his melodious recitation. He was an elder of very delicate temperament and refined taste. If there was even a slight crease on his bed sheet, he could not fall asleep. His room looked like that of a Nawab of Oudh. He never married, but he kept a pet cat, which was his sole source of home entertainment. He would play with it like children. When it died, he was seen crying with tears in his eyes. He was an expert in several styles of Qur’anic recitation, and his recitation would captivate listeners. I sought to benefit from him as well, but as delicate as his temperament was, he was equally quick to take offense and become stern. I practiced recitation with him for a day or two, but then he became displeased at some impropriety of mine and reprimanded me. After that, I could not muster the courage to go to him and so missed out on further benefiting from him. Besides him, during my stay in Lahore, I would sometimes visit Hadhrat Qāri Abdul Malik (may Allah have mercy on him). He had me practice the last rukūʿ of Surah Ḥashr, and I still recall that while reciting the sentence “وَهُوَ الْعَزِيزُ الْحَكِيمُ“, when I reached the letter lām in “الْعَزِيز”, I would inadvertently create a qalqalah. Hadhrat Qāri Sahib (may Allah have mercy on him) corrected me several times, but I could not break the habit. Eventually, Hadhrat taught me a technique: when pronouncing the letter “lām”, pronounce the letter “ʿayn” at the same time. This will prevent the qalqalah on the “lām”. In short, with that single rukuʿ, he taught me what might otherwise be difficult to learn even in months. May Allah Most High have boundless mercy on him.

Last Year at Dar al-ʿUlum Nanak Warah

From Shawwal 1375 AH onward, it was our final year at Dar al-ʿUlum Nanak Warah. In it, we were to study texts such as Hidayah Awwalayn, Nur al-Anwar, Mukhtaṣar al-Maʿani, and others, and this was the first time none of our lessons were under Hadhrat Mawlana Sahban Mahmud (may Allah have mercy on him). Hidayah was assigned to Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Wali Hasan. We began Nur al-Anwar with Hadhrat Mawlana Qari Riʿayatullah (may Allah have mercy on him), who was an immensely popular teacher, and his refined manner of speech would turn the lessons into a field of saffron [i.e., full of joy and laughter]. Later, however, he was given a higher-level text to teach, so Nur al-Anwar was transferred to Hadhrat Mawlana Sahban Mahmud (may Allah have mercy on him). Thus, once again, I had the joy of spending at least an hour with our beloved teacher.

Mukhtaṣar al-Maʿani, Sullam al-ʿUlum, and Diwan Mutanabbi were assigned to Hadhrat Mawlana Fadhl Muhammad Swati (may Allah have mercy on him), who was a highly refined and experienced teacher. Previously, we had the opportunity to study a portion of Gulistan with him in the Bab al-Islam Mosque, and a deep awe of his personality settled in our hearts. During these lessons, however, the kindness and affection he showed were extraordinary, and it is impossible for us to repay him for his favours. His teaching style was also very captivating. It so happened that, due to my crooked disposition, I never developed a liking for Mukhtaṣar al-Maʿani, because the intricate logical debates in rhetoric were burdensome to me. This was especially true after the previous year’s study of Al-Balāghah al-Wāḍiḥah with Hadhrat Mawlana Sahban Mahmud (may Allah have mercy on him), which we pursued so enthusiastically — learning how to practically apply the rules of rhetoric in literary passages and poetry at the same time — that after such a delightful experience, the logical hair-splitting in Mukhtaṣar al-Maʿani did not appeal to me. Similarly, after learning the necessary terminologies of mantiq (logic), I did not have much inclination for its detailed debates, so I did not find much zeal for studying Sullam al-ʿUlum. On the other hand, we read Diwan Mutanabbi with great zest and eagerness, and Hadhrat (may Allah have mercy on him) also taught it with great diligence. I even memorized many of its verses. Yet the greatest enjoyment came from studying Hidayah and Nūr al-Anwar. During the lessons of Hidayah, Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Wali Hasan (may Allah have mercy on him) would not only explain rare points of fiqh[1]and usūl al-fiqh[2], but would also share impactful advice for our general upbringing (tarbiyah) and intellectual training. Moreover, he would give us guidelines to broaden our overall reading. I recall that upon noticing my enthusiasm for writing in Arabic, one day he said to me: “There is a book in the library named Fiqh al-Lughah; you should read it”. This was the “Fiqh al-Lughah” of Abu Mansur Thaʿalibi, which I found very interesting. It remained part of my readings until my own teaching days, and it helped greatly in diversifying my use of language and expression.

It is an age-old tradition in Islamic seminaries that after studying a lesson with the teacher, students form a group to revise it. They then select one of their capable classmates to repeat the lesson and explain it to them. In the environment of our Islamic seminaries, this process is referred to as “takrar”. The student leading the takrar strives to closely mimic the teacher’s lecture and present it to the group. For this, it is necessary, on the one hand, that he thoroughly understands the lesson himself, and on the other hand, since takrar is itself a form of teaching, it is also essential that he possesses the ability to explain concepts clearly. When there are multiple students in the class with this ability, they take turns conducting takrar. Experience has shown that this method of takrar is extremely beneficial for all students – and particularly for those conducting the takrar, as they simultaneously gain valuable teaching practice.

In my class, there was no one of my age; everyone was older than me. As a result, whenever a takrar group was formed, the responsibility of conducting it would always fall upon my older classmates, while I would mostly participate as a listener. Often, the takrar was conducted by my elder brother, Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Rafiʿ Usmani (may Allah have mercy on him). Allah the Exalted had bestowed him with both strong scholarly aptitude and great eloquence, so from the beginning, his takrar was well-liked among the students. My speech lacked fluency, and I would often speak haltingly . Naturally, this caused some discomfort among my peers. As a result, I was rarely given the opportunity to lead takrar – and, in turn, I would also miss out on the chance to work on and overcome this weakness of mine.

I was aware of this weakness of mine and was also concerned about overcoming it. A divine arrangement for this took place in the form of a student from Quetta. He was much older than me, and with his Balochistani turban, he appeared twice my size in stature. He enrolled in the first year of Arabic studies at Dar al-ʿUlūm in the middle of the academic year. To make up for his missed lessons, he began studying with different classmates. I offered to teach him “ʿArbi Ka Muʿallim”. Perhaps he would not have been too keen to study under a thin, childish student who was half his age, but because of the memorized Arabic speeches that I would deliver in various gatherings at Dar al-ʿUlum, a certain impression of my Arabic proficiency had formed among the students despite my young age. Because of this, he agreed to study with me, and I began teaching him “ʿArbī Kā Muʿallim” in the afternoons, after the fourth period.

It was not the bearded “student” who eagerly awaited the appointed time, but rather the twelve-year-old “teacher”. As soon as the fourth period ended, I would promptly arrive at the designated place and wait for him. However, he had a rather nonchalant nature. He would arrive at his leisure, while every passing minute of waiting felt unbearably long to me. Sometimes, he would be absent without informing me, leaving me in a dilemma – if I went searching for him, it seemed to go against the dignity of a “teacher”, but if I did not, how could I let go of the pleasure of teaching? Eventually, my eagerness to teach would overcome my “teacherly” dignity, and I would wander through different classrooms searching for him. When the time elapsed, I would wait for the next day. And when he did show up the next day, it was with his usual air of nonchalance – I did not even have the courage to ask him why he had been absent, and he would simply open the book as though nothing had happened. At times, I would assign him written exercises to translate from Urdu into Arabic. Sometimes he would complete them, and sometimes he would not. I was not in a position to question him about it, fearing that if I did, he might stop coming altogether, leaving me with nothing. What I needed from him was the opportunity to deliver the lesson to him, so that I could train my tongue to speak fluently. Alhamdulillah! Over time, I gradually became accustomed to expressing my thoughts more fluently. He patiently endured me, and I, in turn, tolerated his indifference. By the time we completed the first part of “ʿArabi Ka Muʿallim”, a certain level of confidence had developed in my speech. Thus, in truth, he was my teacher who taught me how to teach and speak, for it was through him that I gained training in my manner of speech. I have no idea where he is now. I cannot even recall his name with certainty (I seem to remember it might have been Akhtar Muhammad). But wherever he may be, may Allah the Exalted shower His mercy and blessings on him, for he has done me a great favour.

Nevertheless, after undergoing this training course, my classmates also became willing to have me conduct the takrar. Due to Bhai Sahib’s eloquence, it was difficult for his group to tolerate my takrar, so I found some companions who were willing to put up with my half-baked speech. In this way, gradually, I also began getting more opportunities to conduct takrar, and as a result, my speech improved further.

Once, an institute in Nazimabad, Karachi, organized a speech competition on the theme of Sirat al-Nabi ﷺ (the life of the Prophet ﷺ) for students from various madaris (Islamic seminaries) and schools. The topic of the speech was: “The Noble Messenger ﷺ was the Greatest Lawmaker”. Hadhrat Mufti Wali Hasan (may Allah have mercy on him) instructed us to participate. Before this, I had only delivered memorized Arabic speeches lasting a few minutes at Dar al-ʿUlum’s internal gatherings, and I had never spoken at an external event, so I was somewhat nervous. However, Hadhrat bolstered my courage, provided some key points about the topic, and even dictated a few of them to me. I delivered my speech based on those points. I was thirteen years old at the time. Now, either it was the miracle of Hadhrat Mufti Wali Hasan’s (may Allah have mercy on him) points, or the judges took pity on my young age, that I was awarded first place in the competition. As a prize, I received an Urdu translation of Imam Ghazali’s (may Allah have mercy on him) “Al-Murshid al-Amīn”. This was my first speech in a public gathering.

At that time, Dar al-ʿUlum Karachi was blessed with a bouquet of greatly learned and erudite teachers. In addition to the teachers I have mentioned above, Hadhrat Mawlana Muntakhab al-Haq, Hadhrat Mawlana Mazhar Baqa, Hadhrat Mawlana ʿUbayd al-Haq of Sylhet, Hadhrat Mawlana Tasin, Hadhrat Mawlana Muhammad Matīn Khatib, Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Sabir (may Allah have mercy on them all) were all spreading the benefits of their teachings. I was also eager to spend time in the service of those teachers under whom I was not formally studying any book. Therefore, I would occasionally visit them, and due to my young age, they would show me great kindness and provide me with guidance from their teaching experiences.

Our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) possessed such a personality that whenever scholars or dignitaries from across Pakistan would visit Karachi, they would make it a point to meet him. Our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) would invite them to Dar al-ʿUlum and request them to offer advice to the students. It was during this time that I had the opportunity to see Hadhrat Mawlana Mufti Muhammad Hasan, Hadhrat Mawlana Muhammad Idris Kandhlawi, Hadhrat Mawlana Khayr Muhammad, Hadhrat Mawlana Ahmad Ali Lahori, and Hadhrat Mawlana ʿAtaullah Shah Bukhari (may Allah have mercy on them all). I remember that Hadhrat Mawlana ʿAtaullah Shah Bukhari (may Allah have mercy on him) was dressed in brick-red clothing, and when someone introduced me to him as the youngest son of Hadhrat Mufti Sahib (may Allah have mercy on him), he picked me up and sat me in his lap.

The American and British Invasion of the Suez Canal

That same year, the most harrowing news for the Islamic world was that on 29 October 1956, Israel attacked the Sinai Peninsula. Two days later, Britain and France launched a joint assault on the Suez Canal. This event had a profound impact on our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him), who wished that the entire Islamic world would unite in defense of Egypt. Consequently, he wrote letters to various rulers and eminent figures across the Islamic world. At the same time, he endeavored to organize a medical delegation to assist the Muslims, and to express solidarity with the Muslims against this attack in any way possible.

In this context, our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) wished to arrange for military training at Dar al-ʿUlum so that, if necessary, trained volunteers could be sent to Egypt. When this could not be immediately implemented, our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) contacted the Civil Defense Department and convinced them to send their instructors to Dar al-ʿUlum to train the students in civil defense. Consequently, a daily civil defense training program began after the ʿAsr prayer. Initially, Mr. Badr al-Hasan Farooqi began visiting from 7^th November 1956, corresponding to 3^rd Rabiʿ al-Thani 1376 AH, and began teaching civil defense and first aid. We students participated in the course with great enthusiasm. I was in the thirteenth year of my life, and I remember that we were under the misconception that this course would eventually turn into a training for Jihad. We would thus imagine ourselves on the battlefield in Egypt and, in our adolescent minds, envision scenes of direct confrontations with Israeli and British soldiers. The war eventually ended after Russia’s intervention, and the territories occupied by Israel were returned. Nonetheless, we continued participating in the course with the same fervour, harbouring the hope that, if nothing else, we might still be sent to provide assistance to the wounded.

I would document all of Mr. Farooqi’s lectures in a notebook and, to the best of my ability, I also participated in the practical exercises he conducted. Later, I handed this notebook to Mr. Farooqi for review. While I do not know whether he reviewed it or not, he returned it a few days later with the following note:

“Though youngest of all the trainees yet paced with others throughout the training. Intelligent and keen student. Proved himself to be a willing worker. Remained anxious to learn more and more from his elders. Recommended for higher training.

BH Farooqi, Gen Instructor.”

At the time he wrote this note, I did not know sufficient English to understand its meaning. Therefore, I had it translated by my elder brother, Mawlana Muhammad Wali Rāzi, and had him write the translation beneath it, which was as follows:

“اگرچہ طلبہ میں سب سے زیادہ کمسن ہیں، لیکن تمام طلبہ کے ساتھ پوری ٹریننگ کے درمیان ساتھ ساتھ رہے، ذہین اور شوقین طالب علم ہیں، خود میں مہارت پیدا کرنے کا شوق ہے، اپنے بڑوں سے سیکھنے کے ہمیشہ مشتاق۔ اعلیٰ ٹریننگ کے لئے بھیجا جاۓ۔”“

Though the war had ended, this training had instilled in us, at least in terms of intention, such a passion for Jihad that we later requested our respected father (may Allah have mercy on him) to arrange formal military training at Dar al-ʿUlum. After we moved to the new building of Dar al-ʿUlum, Hadhrat arranged for whatever was legally possible at that time, a mention of which may appear later.

My results in that year’s annual examinations were as follows:

[1] Translator: Fiqh: Islamic Jurisprudence

[2] Translator: Usūl al-Fiqh: Principles of Islamic Jurisprudence

…………….(Continued)…………….