It is more or less forty years ago today, Hazrat Shah and I set foot on the land of Spain (Spain), and while wandering madly in its streets for eighteen hours, we did not realize that we were on a foreign land. Wandering how the land of Tariq bin Ziyad can be foreign to us. This land of palm trees, malt plantations and red soil used to hold the feet. While passing through the rows of palm trees on the side of a road in Granada, I dropped one of the ripe dates on the road in my mouth. I added that these palm trees were planted by Abd al-Rahman I in the land of Spain and I felt the taste of centuries in the softness of this palm.
Even while walking around with tourists in the grand Alhambra Palace built on the top of the mountain, I did not feel like a tourist because I was the heir of this treasure. Each brick of Al-Hamra was engraved with the words Laghalib ila Allah (There is no one who is sovereign but Allah) and these words were written when the emperor considered himself to be God. The patron of fine arts, the Muslim king who built this palace no longer had his kingdom, this palace also did not remain in its original form, but the kingdom of God is still established in all universes and is the owner of all universes. A local tourist asked me that the same text is written everywhere on the wall of this palace, what is it? She was shocked to hear the name of Allah and she said that when we are surprised by something, we say “Hina” in our Spanish and I was shocked to hear that the Muslims left Spain leaving the name of Allah behind. gone.
Muslims are no longer seen in Spain. When the fall came on the Muslims, they were killed indiscriminately and thus their race was destroyed. Many reasons can be found for the decline after a thousand-year reign, but according to Ibn Khaldun’s theory of history, some kind of rise and fall is a process like the sprouting of a plant from a seed, its growth, fruiting and finally its decline. to be I kept searching there for those “Moors” (Muslims) whose footsteps Iqbal is still restless to hear.
Which one is in the floor, which one is in the valley
The convoy of Ishq Balakhiz is hard
But I did not see any “peacock” there. While selling watches on the sidewalk, I asked a black man, “Are you a Muslim?” He said, “Yes,” and then silently recited the words, “Ashahad in la ilaha ila Allah, washahad in Muhammad Abdu wa Rasoolah.” This black Muslim was from Senegal and had settled in Spain for livelihood. Now we are wandering around in search of sustenance. Earlier, to spread the message of God to the world, we used to go far away from our comfortable homes and order the boats on which we landed on the shores to be burnt. Do not think of returning.
On our way from Granada to Cordoba, the same bunches of palm trees stood in our way to let us Pakistani pilgrims know that you are not a stranger here. We are the sign of your word-loving brothers, but these consolations were of no use to me as I entered the Mosque of Cordoba, and seeing the solitude of this unbelievably beautiful mosque, my eyes filled with tears. Oxford University Professor Robert describes the Cordoba Mosque as the most beautiful building in the world. His eyes could go so far that it is difficult to know that it is not just a building made of stone and mud. In it, the hearts of the Muslim ghazis, mujahids and martyrs who enlightened the ignorant Europe with the light of knowledge and thus the light of centuries spread on the face of this mosque is its beauty. To remove the loneliness of this mosque, the “liberal” residents of Europe built a church in a part of it, which is still there to give proof of their “generosity”. So while I was prostrate before my God behind one of the many pillars of this mosque, the church bells were constantly ringing.
Outside the main gate of the mosque, a young Spanish man wearing a hat was selling something like a flute and his girlfriend in a frilly skirt was flirting with him. After a while, the young man took out cigarettes and hashish from his pocket, and then the smoke of both filled cigarettes began to scatter in the atmosphere of the Mosque of Cordoba. I and Hazrat Shah went out towards the river Kabir flowing alongside the mosque, but instead of the river there were thick bushes. We stood on the bridge for a long time with elbows crossed. Iqbal stood there and dreamed of a new era. Hazrat Shah looked at the dry river and then recited Iqbal’s poetry:
Kabir flowing water, someone by your side
Seeing the dream of another era
The new world is still in the veil of destiny
Her charm is in my eyes
