The Soul's Garden

Garden Darkhana, Karachi

It's so late, so I really shouldn't blog long. Work has been keeping me busy. Yesterday, all my hard work pleased one boss, but not really another boss. Today, further work has both bosses thrilled (thank goodness -Allah ka Shukar, as they frequently say here). I'd been having some Internet issues which was partly why I haven't blogged lately (as well as feeling overcome by a strange feeling of "I just don't feel like it today", which may also be related to a slight stomach-upset I've been having... I suspect greasyness is the culprit). Anyway, so instead of blogging yesterday, I chose to start watching Stephen Hawking's Universe documentary series, which is really fabulous (the history of science part is fairly linear and Wiggish to be perfectly honest -simplified, elementary and slightly inaccurate -but the science itself is fascinating, as well as the stories they spin about these characters!).

But anyway, the main write-worthy thing of the week was going to Garden Jamatkhana (which is Darkhana -or the 'Royal'/'Chief'/HQ khane -in Karachi, which is the HQ of all the 950 Jamatkhanas in Pakistan) tonight for Chandraat (new moon). And because it was Imamat Day Khushali Chandraat (celebrating the new moon in July also means celebrating the anniversary of the Aga Khan becoming the spiritual leader of the Ismailis 52 years ago), all the lights inside were lit up -red, green, white, draping down from the ceilings... I was sitting on the main floor (though on a chair because my back is still not 100%)... and there were about 15,000 people there tonight. As in, when we all stood for standing-prayer, it felt like deedar (when the Aga Khan makes an in-person visit to the community and Ismailis from all over gather in one big hall to receive him -deedar, I believe, in the literal sense means "to be in the presence of"). It felt like all you saw was an expanse of dark heads, rows upon rows upon rows of people packed together like anything (there are 2 more floors of this by the way). That in itself is extremely humbling. And then the energy of collective prayer to that degree just overwhelms you to tears itself. When they read the list of the people who had passed away since the last Chandraat (8-10 names) and then the prayers for the departed souls that followed... also moving. Imagine when you died, that 15,000 people prayed for your soul, specifically. Yeah. Exactly.

And the people who sing ginans must be professionals... in heaven (really, when Christians sing "Hark! Hear the Angels sing...", they're talking voices like these). They were so beautiful. And even the Qu'ran that was recited was sweet and melodious. They sang my favourite garbi (which is like a more lively, dance-y kind of ginan... a bit like the Scherzo in Beethoven's 9th Symphony), which meant I had goosebumps from head to toe (literally -I didn't know you could get goosebumps on your toe!) and also another ginan that I recognized as my mum's favourite one.

And then by the time they were singing the Imamat Day Khushali one, I was just completely floored. Completely. God was there. In those voices and in that room. And if you don't believe in God, then I guess it's kind of like being able to suddenly glimpse the whole Universe and all of its time-space pretzels from Big Bang to the Infinity to which it continues to rapidly expand, in a moment where thought and consciousness flicker dim. It was hypnotic, intoxicating, almost too much... I wondered whether it was possible to get drunk on that kind of pure heartsong. Of course, as soon as I wondered, the Sufi mystics came to mind. And then I thought about Rumi, and the whirling dervishes and Turkey... and well, I was back in thought and daydreams and memories. Energy of that intensity is just... you'd have to be a master to hold it and stay present with it. So, the mere mortal that I am, I went back to my thoughts and fell out of the Garden.

But what an enchanting Garden it was.