A Jihad for Love
Picture credit : HetgrasVideo Uploaded by TheHour
Yesterday was an eventful day after the monotony of the past few days. I met a guy in the city who I got in touch with over the internet. The guy had also done a course in cookery from TAFE the same campus as me but not is French Cuisine. I though that it would be nice to exchange notes with him. But I was taken aback by the meeting. All that this guy did was proclaim his admiration for Indian cuisine and disgust at most western culinary traditions. I thought that it was rather strange that he would do a course in a culinary tradition that he didn't have any interest in. Luckily for me as always Garfield came to my rescue. I took the guys leave in time as I was supposed to meet Garfield and go to see a screening of "A Jihad for Love".
The movie is a documentary about homosexuality in the Islamic world and how people are torn apart because at times they feel that their sexuality is in conflict with the teachings of Islam. I was moved to tears on watching some of the stories in the movie especially on hearing the conversations between mothers and their gay sons. It reminded me of mum and how she has always been there for me and accepted me with an open heart and also the men in my life (especially Mr Big) and how she had showered them with unconditional love. Another theme that resonated with me was how most gay men in order to escape persecution in their country are forced to leave their entire life behind and move to foreign shores hoping that in their new home they would be able to live their life without having to always be on a guard about being outed and bringing 'shame' to the family name or being pressurized to get married by family or relatives. That is one reason that I left India thinking Australia would be different but some of the bubbles have burst since I have arrived here. The saddest part has been to see the discrimination within the gay community in Australia against people from different cultures and how people are trying to put other people in boxes based on their nationality or colour. It is not just a one way thing. Most Aussie would would want to be with Caucasians or Orientals and most Indians or South Asians would want to be in a relationship with someone who comes from the same 'culture' with similar 'values' and 'morals'. It got me thinking about the guy I met yesterday and how in his case along with his taste in food his taste in men too was very 'conservative' and discriminatory.
Another theme that was covered in the movie and was brought up in the Q&A session with the director and producer after the movie ended was how Sufi mysticism is replete with references to divine love between two men and how in Sufi poetry it has been written about so beautifully that it is almost homo-erotic. Case in point being Rumi's poetry inspired by his 'beloved' Shams of Tabriz, Amir Khusro's poetry dedicated to his 'master' Nizamudin Auliya, and the folklore that was covered in the movie about Madho Lal and Shah Hussain.
As has been in my case the first time that I felt pride and not shame on being gay was when I read the poetry of Rumi and with time I realized that there have been great men in the past that have found love in an another man and it was not 'queer' or 'wrong'. With time I discovered the poetry or Amir Khusro and I have written about it in the past on the blog and how it helped me through some rough patches in life and feel comfortable about my sexuality. Hence it was Sufi music and poetry that did for me what gay pride may have done for some other people. In the East gay prides are a distant dream and until then there is this beautiful literature that can provide some much needed comfort and reassurance to the 'queer (i find this word kinda derogatory)'. I once saw a documentary about the celebration of the festival (Urs) at the Dargah in Delhi of Nizamudin Auliya celebrating the marriage (union) of Amir Khusro and his beloved (Nizamuddin Auliya). The whole ceremony was so very beautiful and the entire dargah was cleaned with milk and rose water and then decorated for the occasion. It was followed up with a performance of Sufi music.
Here is an interesting article about Shah Hussain comparing his works to that of Rumi and other Sufi mystics.
To end the post I am quoting some poetry so that you get an idea of what I am talking about:
The movie is a documentary about homosexuality in the Islamic world and how people are torn apart because at times they feel that their sexuality is in conflict with the teachings of Islam. I was moved to tears on watching some of the stories in the movie especially on hearing the conversations between mothers and their gay sons. It reminded me of mum and how she has always been there for me and accepted me with an open heart and also the men in my life (especially Mr Big) and how she had showered them with unconditional love. Another theme that resonated with me was how most gay men in order to escape persecution in their country are forced to leave their entire life behind and move to foreign shores hoping that in their new home they would be able to live their life without having to always be on a guard about being outed and bringing 'shame' to the family name or being pressurized to get married by family or relatives. That is one reason that I left India thinking Australia would be different but some of the bubbles have burst since I have arrived here. The saddest part has been to see the discrimination within the gay community in Australia against people from different cultures and how people are trying to put other people in boxes based on their nationality or colour. It is not just a one way thing. Most Aussie would would want to be with Caucasians or Orientals and most Indians or South Asians would want to be in a relationship with someone who comes from the same 'culture' with similar 'values' and 'morals'. It got me thinking about the guy I met yesterday and how in his case along with his taste in food his taste in men too was very 'conservative' and discriminatory.
Another theme that was covered in the movie and was brought up in the Q&A session with the director and producer after the movie ended was how Sufi mysticism is replete with references to divine love between two men and how in Sufi poetry it has been written about so beautifully that it is almost homo-erotic. Case in point being Rumi's poetry inspired by his 'beloved' Shams of Tabriz, Amir Khusro's poetry dedicated to his 'master' Nizamudin Auliya, and the folklore that was covered in the movie about Madho Lal and Shah Hussain.
As has been in my case the first time that I felt pride and not shame on being gay was when I read the poetry of Rumi and with time I realized that there have been great men in the past that have found love in an another man and it was not 'queer' or 'wrong'. With time I discovered the poetry or Amir Khusro and I have written about it in the past on the blog and how it helped me through some rough patches in life and feel comfortable about my sexuality. Hence it was Sufi music and poetry that did for me what gay pride may have done for some other people. In the East gay prides are a distant dream and until then there is this beautiful literature that can provide some much needed comfort and reassurance to the 'queer (i find this word kinda derogatory)'. I once saw a documentary about the celebration of the festival (Urs) at the Dargah in Delhi of Nizamudin Auliya celebrating the marriage (union) of Amir Khusro and his beloved (Nizamuddin Auliya). The whole ceremony was so very beautiful and the entire dargah was cleaned with milk and rose water and then decorated for the occasion. It was followed up with a performance of Sufi music.
Here is an interesting article about Shah Hussain comparing his works to that of Rumi and other Sufi mystics.
To end the post I am quoting some poetry so that you get an idea of what I am talking about:
Mevlana Rumi
I am seeing a moon outside the eye in the eye, which neither eye has seen or ear heard of.
I do not see tongue and soul and heart save without myself, from that moment that I stole a glance at that cheek.
Had Plato seen the loveliness and beauty of that moon, he would have become even madder and more distressed than I.
Eternity is the mirror of the temporal, the temporal the mirror of pre-eternity - in this mirror those two are twisted together like his tresses.
A cloud beyond the sense whose rain is all spirit; sprinkling on the dust of the body - what rains he has rained!
The moonfaced ones of heaven, seeing the picture of his face, have become ashamed before that beauty and scratched the bank of their necks.
Posteternity took the hand of pre-eternity and took it toward the place of that moon: having seen both, it laughed in jealous pride at the two.
About and around his palace what lions there are, roaring jealously, aiming at the blood of the self-sacrificing, adventurous men.
Suddenly the word jumped from my mouth, 'Who is that king? Shams-al-din king of Tabriz'; and at those words my blood surged.
Translated by A.J. Arberry
I do not see tongue and soul and heart save without myself, from that moment that I stole a glance at that cheek.
Had Plato seen the loveliness and beauty of that moon, he would have become even madder and more distressed than I.
Eternity is the mirror of the temporal, the temporal the mirror of pre-eternity - in this mirror those two are twisted together like his tresses.
A cloud beyond the sense whose rain is all spirit; sprinkling on the dust of the body - what rains he has rained!
The moonfaced ones of heaven, seeing the picture of his face, have become ashamed before that beauty and scratched the bank of their necks.
Posteternity took the hand of pre-eternity and took it toward the place of that moon: having seen both, it laughed in jealous pride at the two.
About and around his palace what lions there are, roaring jealously, aiming at the blood of the self-sacrificing, adventurous men.
Suddenly the word jumped from my mouth, 'Who is that king? Shams-al-din king of Tabriz'; and at those words my blood surged.
Translated by A.J. Arberry
Amir Khusrau
I am a pagan (worshiper) of love: the creed (of Muslims) I do not need;
Every vein of mine has become (taut like a) wire; the (pagan) girdle I do not need.
Leave from my bedside, you ignorant physician!
The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –
other than this no medicine does he need.
If there be no pilot on our ship, let there be none:
We have God in our midst: the pilot we do not need.
The people of the world say that Khusrau worships idols.
So I do, so I do; the people I do not need,
the world I do not need.
Shah Hussain
My wrist in the beloved’s grip,
I cannot ask Him to leave hold.
Dark is the night, the cloud is dripping,
I suffer it for lack of a messenger,
The tyrant has sent a call.
They alone know what is love and longing,
Who have it in their lives.
Like digging a well in dry land,
With no cart to carry away the sand.
Carrying loads everyday,
You will leave at last.
Says Husain, the humble fakir,
Put thy eyes into mine, O love.
(Translated by Sant Singh Sekhon)
Every vein of mine has become (taut like a) wire; the (pagan) girdle I do not need.
Leave from my bedside, you ignorant physician!
The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –
other than this no medicine does he need.
If there be no pilot on our ship, let there be none:
We have God in our midst: the pilot we do not need.
The people of the world say that Khusrau worships idols.
So I do, so I do; the people I do not need,
the world I do not need.
Shah Hussain
My wrist in the beloved’s grip,
I cannot ask Him to leave hold.
Dark is the night, the cloud is dripping,
I suffer it for lack of a messenger,
The tyrant has sent a call.
They alone know what is love and longing,
Who have it in their lives.
Like digging a well in dry land,
With no cart to carry away the sand.
Carrying loads everyday,
You will leave at last.
Says Husain, the humble fakir,
Put thy eyes into mine, O love.
(Translated by Sant Singh Sekhon)
