The Book of Allah, which was revealed to the Beloved of Allah ﷺ, in which there is no doubt. A Book which, with clear proofs, is guidance for the God-conscious. Every single word of this Book is light, such a light that establishes a connection between the human being and the Creator, such a light that becomes hearing and sight for the creation. It is this light that has spread out the earth, and it is this light that has given elevation to the heavens. Light upon light grants guidance to whom Allah wills. Clothed in the garment of light is the verse of the Noble Qur’an:
“The people of intellect reflect upon the signs of Allah.”
I reflected upon it… suddenly there was a flash, from consciousness to beyond it, into the subconscious… passing through the door of drowsiness, I reached the senses of the subconscious… and
In the magical world of the subconscious, free from the confinement of time and space, I saw human beings moving about. I saw birds in the meadows… I saw moon-faced beings whose entire forms were lanterns of crystal. In glass jars, row upon row of cypresses and trees were singing melodies.
I saw blooming buds and fragrant flowers singing ghazals… a window opened in my mind… beyond the subconscious world there exists yet another world, exactly as my earth and the dwellers of my earth.
I returned from above to below, thinking that when everything is the earth, why should I not reflect upon the earth… why should I not explore within the earth.
I asked my mother, the earth:
O mother! What are you?
The earth replied… What am I not.
I am the beauty of the blooming bud, the freshness of branches and leaves. I am the fragrance of the flower, the voice of the nightingale, the chirping of birds, the call of the koel, the cooing of the dove, the sweetness in fruits. I am the colour of buds, flowers, and fruits, and the pride of the trees.
The earth said:
If I do not nurture the seed of the flower in my womb, then from where will the fragrance come into the flower?
If I do not raise the fruits in my womb and transfer sweetness into them, then how will the fruits become sweet?
I, your mother the earth, if I do not cause the springs of water to boil forth for you, then waterfalls will not fall from the mountains… this oil and petrol that you burn in motor cars, in airplanes, in colossal machines, this has come out of my arteries—it is my blood. I, your mother the earth, if I harden my heart and stiffen my body, then no house can be built upon me. I give you life, yet when you, as the image of arrogance, trample me underfoot, I still do not clutch your feet… and when you pierce my body with your sharp weapons and place seeds into my being, I, your mother, do not waste them, for they give life to my children.
But O my child!
Have you thought what you have given me? What return have you given for my favours and service?
Among the children dwelling upon the earth, the most noble and my dearest child… I gave birth to your father Adam… I bestowed a beautiful form upon your mother Hawwa… for just like every mother, I too have wishes and desires… I too, overcome by motherhood, want my children to be happy, to be at peace, to have love, sincerity, and sacrifice among them… that one brother should not destroy another brother… that one sister should not ruin another sister.
O offspring of Adam and Hawwa… come near to me, that I may tell you a secret. Allah has made me a table spread for you…
As vast as my length and breadth is, just that vast and spacious is Allah’s table spread. Upon this table spread, Allah has placed all those blessings which you need. From one end to the other are blessings and nothing but blessings. There is no restriction… no price. Every individual living upon the earth, in whatever way he wishes, can benefit from it, does benefit, and will continue to benefit… Do you not see and do you not understand that I have become your owner? Everything of mine is yours, just as everything of a mother belongs to her children.
Gold and silver are particles of my very body. Layer upon layer of strata are my nerves… water is my blood. The gases are the life running in my veins. Colour is my beauty… fruits enclosed in coverings are my modesty… velvety grass is my clothing… flowers are embroidery upon the clothing… quadrupeds are the feeling of my existence… birds are my accent… the sea is my ebb and flow… mountains are my strength… rivers are my tranquillity… rain is my tears… the twilight is the redness of my lips… the sun is my light… the moon is the ornament of my forehead… and the stars are the diadem upon my head… For whom is all this?
My children! All this is for you.
I am your mother, the earth.
By the will of your Creator Allah… by Allah’s desire… by Allah’s love, at every moment, every instant, I remain engaged in your service. Why do you, by fighting among yourselves, creating corruption, and through killing and bloodshed, make your mother sorrowful? I have never asked you for anything… I have always given you life… then why do you want to devastate my lap?
Listen, listen attentively!
In a neighbourhood there are fifty houses. In every house, the householders remain absorbed in themselves. No one quarrels to make another’s house his own… In a city there are thousands of houses, and every person lives contentedly in his own courtyard with his innocent flower-like children.
Why then can the nations living upon the earth not live in their own countries as the people of neighbourhoods and cities do? Why have you become intoxicated with the lust for power? I am older than millions of years. I have never seen that any usurper, worshipper of ego, tyrant, or ignorant conqueror, in his greed for power, has taken even a straw with him.
My children!
You are born from my womb as an image of love, and by turning love into hatred, you return empty-handed.
I am the earth, your mother.
Within me there is not even a trace of hatred, contempt, prejudice, racism, or the lust for power… Are you so ungrateful that while your mother squeezes out every drop of her blood to give you life, you still cannot share joy among your brothers and sisters for your mother’s sake?
Remember!
You have to return to me again, with all your filth, stench, and false claims of grandeur and majesty… I, being your mother, will cover your stench, but you will have to live, displeased, upon that other table spread laid out for you, where there is no power, nor is there any room for pride and arrogance.
By Khawaja Shamsuddin Azeemi (RA), Book: Rainbow