A Crude Criticism of Owaisi's Politics in Reference to the Linked Report

https://www.dnaindia.com/india/report-fatwa-issued-against-caste-based-reservation-in-ap-1104617

Barrister Asaduddin Owaisi Sahab is wrong in denying caste based reservation for muslims. Infact he should rather champion the cause of SC status for the Pasmanda Muslims otherwise he is not being honest to his slogan "Jai Bhim Jai Mim" and his efforts to form pan India Dalit Muslim alliances would be nothing other than a shrewd political strategy. 

Coming to the fatwa that caste based reservation for muslims is "against the sharia" then I reject it as fatwa is only a legal opinion of a scholar which is not a decree binding upon all the muslims to accept as portrayed in the media. The scholar has most probably based this fatwa on the Islamic belief that all human beings are the progeny of Adam and are brothers to each other. Good but the scholar seems to have ignored the fact that the muslims of the subcontinent have been practicing something very similar to the Varnas since the time of Khilji dynasty, when Alauddin Khilji (if I am not mistaken) formalised the division of muslims into Ashraf, Ajlaf and Azlam. One more thing that has been a major issue of the subcontinent muslims is the concept of kufu(equality in marriage) in the Hanafi school, this issue of kufu for marriage has been misinterpreted to a rather ridiculous extent. I know of some Syed communities who have almost made it haram for a Syed to marry a non Syed, I had a Syed colleague who once criticised the Pathans for their tendency to marry anyone. (all of them are not like that, my cousins are infact Syed and they freely marry outside the Syed communities) They seem to be ignorant of the history of our pious predecessors, didn't Ali A.S. gave his daughter (a Syeda) to Omar R.A. (a non Syed) in marriage, do these Syed communities claim to be more knowledgeable than Ali and Omar? Add to it the fact that Syeds are actually considered the highest "caste" by many ignorant muslims, for example when I was small my cousin used to say that "we Syed are the highest caste of Muslims". 

Then comes the culture of grave veneration in the subcontinent which further complicates the issue, the muslims (mostly lower castes) who pray to the graves of sufi saints give priest like veneration to the caretakers(Sajjadanasheens/Majawars) of those graves , a position that mostly stays within one family who most of the times happen to be Sayed. The Pasmanda activists are not completely unjustified when they call these tendencies of Syed veneration in the subcontinent as "Syedism" something similar to Brahminism. And all this in the Sunni sect only, I am intentionally avoiding to discuss the tendency of Shia muslims to give God-like attributes to the beloved family and descendants of the prophet S.A.W. 

Now coming to another tendency of caste discrimination among the subcontinent muslims, just like the Hindus the subcontinent muslims also tend to use caste names of the lower castes as an abuse, for example I have caught many a muslims calling someone chamar/chamain as an abuse, I have tried to explain that how it is un-Islamic to do so. I have also heard the word jolaha(weaver caste) used as a derogatory term for the people of Ansari community. And on the top of that there have been documented instances of the practice of untouchability among the subcontinent muslims, a thing as un-Islamic as it can get!

So with all due respect to his scholarship, I would appeal the scholar who issued this fatwa to also consider the ground reality of caste discrimination in the muslims of subcontinent and then take another look on his judgement that caste based reservation for muslims is "against the Sharia".

Finally, me being of Ahl e Hadith bent of mind, here is all I have to say about this divience of "Syedism" and casteism in the muslims of subcontinent:

Abu Huraira reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Verily, Allah has removed from you the pride of the time of ignorance with its boasting of ancestors. Verily, one is only a righteous believer or a miserable sinner. All of the people are the children of Adam, and Adam was created from dust.”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 3955

Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Albani 

Further quoting Imam Malik: Once in Madina Imam Malik R.A. pointed to the grave of prophet S.A.W. and said "Everyone's saying is either accepted or rejected except for the saying of the one in this grave S.A.W."

In Thine Loving Hands (to the person who ever inspires my sonnetry)

In Thine Loving Hands (to the person who ever inspires my sonnetry)
The time has come beloved to bid adieu
This love today, that hangs on noose
Perplexed her destiny has left to you
She lives or dies tonight, for you to chose.
Alas! my soul is just a shabby page
That clings to her, until she dies away
But you, who is her beings confused small cage;
Is life for her or death, you won't just say!
And still I dream of you, lost in my dreams
In meadows where I reach to you from sands
I see you chanting solemn by the streams:
"I shall requite my heart for thine loving hands!"
Each moment thus this moth just burns in you
And every moment thence revives anew!

Me and You (satirizing the confusion and the submissiveness of Indian girl and boy resp.)

You say, just say you love me do?
"Oh yes, of course i do!"
But then my dear I don't love you!

I 'm so attached to you my dear, to me are you?
"Oh yes, of course me too"
But don't presume it love my dear, I don't love you!

I miss you dear, do you miss me too?
"Oh yes, of course me too"
Then I love you dear, but I don't LOVE you!

We are to meet my dear but not a date mind you
"No!, rather date i'd do"
Then you're a fool my dear, I don't love you!

I don't love you dear, but wish to marry you.
"O said so weird that i can't do"
Then bhad me jao, but no I don't love you!

I have a hard time dear, lend me an arm would you?
"Oh here, have it, I do"
Then I weep in your hand, but no I don't love you!

The Fruit of a Lost Labour

That night the rats had a bit over did their  duty. For as long as he had been living in this room it had been their routine to visit his nights. This never perturbed, or even bothered him a bit. But that night, these companions of his nights had created quiet a bustle in the room. And then there  was a strange unrest too, that had been churning his mind since the very evening. As he lay restlessly tossing  in his bed he attempted making noises which could scare away the rats. But all his efforts counted to naught.
Then strangely, not very long after, there was a complete silence. Probably the rats had, all at once,  evacuated the room and left it to him and his solitude. Soon, fatigue of the day overwhelmed him and he was fast asleep.
He dreamt himself sitting in a dark corner of his room with his head sunk in his arms, restless over some unknown feeling. And then alarmingly a clear pleasant voice had him dumbstruck. Addressing him it called "O Quest", a name he always fancied but never told anyone.
Surprised as he raised his head what does he see, a man not very tall and not short, dressed in white robes and a black turban. His fair face had a complexion so fine and luminescent that it resembled the full moon in a clear night. Although a complete stranger yet he felt like a long time acquaintance. He smiled softly, as though confirming the situation in which Quest had been. He said "O Quest, Necessity  is the mother of Invention, and Curiosity the mother of Discovery, but of Poetry..." He halted for a while and then continued his concise yet pleasant elocution,"emotional unrest is both parent and progeny of your poetry" "Emotional unrest!" he emphasized. Enquiringly he uttered "And you...?", but before he could complete his question the stranger had vanished in the dark.


The next morning he woke up earlier than his routine. He lit the room, only to notice the strange condition in which his bookshelf had been today. As he went closer he saw, quiet to his amazement, the notebook in which he used to pen his poems was bit to tatters. But surprisingly rest of the shelf was well intact. A strange thing occurred to him; he collected the bits of the erstwhile notebook, brought them to the floor and lit them up. They burned in a graceful green flame until only black ashes were cleft over. He picked up the ashes, rubbed them on his hands and pressed them on the wall. Like some fade memory they left just a very fade impression. With a pencil he highlighted it hoping it stays there forever.
Relived, he rushed out of the room and into the open. He stood staring as far as his eyes could. The sun was just about to show on the horizon. The sky was a plethora of colours, painted in light purple with streaks of orange, far at horizon a few trees lend it a tint of green and yellow. Overwhelmed with freedom he drew a deep breath. And thus he stood silently smiling, blankly wondering over what was lost and what found.

The Nest

A sylvan song small girls sing,
Which told me the true meaning
Of patriotism and it's basis
In the heart, it goes like this:

"On a morning calm and fine,
A birds three little prime,
Flew out of their nest
For the very first time

They flew far from east to west
And back they flew from west to east,
To enjoy the fresh morning breath
They voyaged through the forest beneath.

They kept flying from dawn till dusk,
Until they had accomplished their quest,
Then they flew back to their nest ,
Weary and tiered to have some rest.

The nest was filled with chirrups of joy.
And for each and every thing,
To the mother they had to say,
Each one had a different way

But only thing which was concordant,
Was we saw the rivers and the forest,
But the place we found the best
Is our little cozy nest!"

The same is our love for land,
Be it fertile or be sand
This love lives silent in heart's abode
Not in anthems sung aloud.

The Debt

Give all in world o' gold and silk,
A gift of ev'ry single breath,
But the debt of mother's milk
Could not be paid in life and death.

on turning twenty

Of my three score years and ten

Twenty would not come again.

So take from seventy springs a score

It leaves me only fifty more.
                           
             -A.E.Housman
how a poet "why, i've  turned twenty years of age sir!"