A prominent theme of this course is the idea of "Which Islam" and "whose Islam"? Coming into
the course, I had a good knowledge of Islam - or so I thought. I think it was for this reason that
this course and the process of learning through art was so instructive for me. I think my
conceptions of Islam was rather monolithic. I was used to a very puritan version of Islam, with a
strict morality founded on rigorist interpretations of the Quran and the Sunnah of the Prophet.
Such a version tended to be more exclusivist and characterized by a kind of stern austerity. I
think that in many ways it was summarized by the uncompromising monotheism of the shahadah
“La illaha ilAllah”. Allah, self-sufficient in heaven, with no real need for the world except slaves
to do his bidding.
Such a tradition seemed very alien to me, given my dual Christian-Hindu background. Indeed, in
certain traditions of both those religions, there is a certain closeness associated with the Divine, a
large number of intermediaries and other figures, as well familiar and personal rituals to make
immanent the transcendent deity. Indeed, the prevailing dialectic that I grew up with portrayed
the Christian deity as the loving and forgiving God while the Islamic deity was the aloof and just
God.
For this reason, I especially appreciated the course for introducing me to the varied
interpretations of Islam by different cultural and linguistic communities. I think the overarching
theme of the course on questions of definition of Islam and above that, the authority to do so, is
not only important within an inter-Muslim context, but an inter-religious context in a nonMuslim world that increasingly views Islam in a manner as monolithic and insular as some
Muslims would have it.
In selecting the different art projects for this course, I found that the ones that particularly
resonated with me revolved around the “softer” aspects of religion, that I had previously thought
incompatible with Islam. The use of poetry and music, the themes of intercession and love all
served to transform “Islam” into a religion as personal as any other.
Contextualizing
As is well known, the idea of religion in Islam centers around Revelation, and revelation itself is
embodied in a Book. The importance of the revelation through the Book is seen in many ways
such as the distinction between prophets and Messengers, the privileged relationship between
those communities who have a Book and other ways. Coming into the class, I, as many people,
had a certain idea of the Book and what the Book represented (or what I thought it did). I
identified the Book with the codex, the mushaf, and based several assumptions on that. I had
read the Quran previously, and even memorized certain suwar, and in general viewed it as a
source of instruction or morals.
However, exploring the process of revelation through the cultural-historical lens of the course
transformed what could be seen as a very exclusive event. It seemed exclusive because it was a
particular revelation to a particular person for a particular people. But it was underlined by a
radical unity. Even while revelation is not necessarily held as undergoing, it is continuously
mediated through different contexts. The Book, in its original sense, is a primordial archetype,
the Umm-al-Kitab from which the Quran, and all other scriptures preceding it, were revealed. It
is in this process of revelation, when the divine encounters the human, that a certain
interpretation takes place due to the variability and diveristy of the human experience. As much
as people might like to think of the Book as a fixed and static object – hence the attempts to
codify it – it too becomes part of a deposit and treasure of faith, that is used by different believers
differently. Some might find comfort in its sound, others in a mystical power attributed to its
letters, and still others in its meaning. Learning about how meaning was mediated to believers
was a fascinating experience and formed the basis for my first art project on the Quran.
I
attempted to write the Quran in such a way as to preserve a particular style of recitation. It was
an exercise in exploring how to best experience an oral-aural revelation and the issues that arise
in codifying it or fixing it on paper. I was able to realize the extent to which there is a measure
of “human-ess” embodied in the transmission, representing a person’s individual engagement
with the fixed text.
An intermediary figure
Another feature of the course that really captured my interest was the pivotal role of the prophet
Mohammad. Growing up with stricter and more puritan versions of Islam, the role of the Prophet
was somewhat minimized. Invocations to the Prophet were closely restricted lest one
accidentally fall into idolatry. Certainly, Mohammad was hailed as an exemplar, a role model,
and a pivotal figure through whom the world received its revelation. Yet, the kind of
philosophical and mystical exploration into the figure of the Prophet, and how deeply his cult1 is
embedded in the daily devotional and spiritual practices of many Muslims was new to me. It
was eye-opening to see how the figure of the Prophet was mediated in different time periods and
cultural contexts and an excellent illustration of the importance of the cultural studies approach
to religion. It struck a chord with me, since the Islamic deity of my knowledge was a somewhat
remote and stern figure. Having a fellow human being, albeit one of great perfection, seemed to
be more in line with my human instincts.
It also formed the basis for my second project which was a devotional song written to celebrate
the Prophet's Night Journey and Ascension into heaven. This is an event that is in some ways is
opposed to the type of strong conservative interpretation 2 but is at the core of a strong mystical
current of thought in Islam. The face-to-face interaction of the Prophet with God has lead to him,
in the very least, being seeing as a special intercessor for his community (the believers) and the
individual believer. At the other end of the spectrum, he has been viewed through the lens of
Greek Philosophy as the Logos, an intermediary between the heavenly and the earthly, and thus,
in a way more than simply moral, al-Insan al_Kamil, the Perfect Man and archetype.
To celebrate this role of the Prophet, and capture the different titles and functions which he holds
in the Muslim community, I wrote a song to celebrate his Ascension. The chorus honors him
under various usual, philosophical and mystical titles. The words of the song are in the first
person “Take me along we you”, “Let your cloak cover me”, etc. I wrote a song because songs
1
Taken in its academic and religious sense, and not a perjorative one.
I am aware that even purists would support the idea of the Night Journey and Ascension of the Prophet on the
basis of various ahadith but merely wish to point out that the mystical ramifications drawn out from this event by
other interpreters, and the according privileged place of the Prophet in devotional practices inspired by the event,
or his role in it, would often be censored by puritans.
2
(and music) for me represent the deepest emotions of the heart. A song can change ones mood in
an instant, and is easily recallable. This theme was one that I felt, more than thought and thus
using a song seemed particularly apt. A transcendant God can feel distant and thus, I felt that
were I a believer, I would draw comfort from the idea of a powerful figure having “gone before”
and seen this deity and thus able to assist others in doing so.
The descendants of the Prophet
This attraction to a kind of personal experience also fit in well with the next part of the course
which dealt with Shia Islam. Returning to the theme of “whose Islam” and who can define Islam,
it was interesting to discover more about the Shii especially their practices. A lot of knowledge
about “Islamic practice” comes from practice of the dominant Sunni majority. However, other
communities of interpretation arrive at different conclusions, often through the same texts and
practices. The Shii give an exalted place to the Prophet and his progeny, as well as to his son-inlaw, Ali. While there are theological reasons, I felt that primarily the Shii experience can be
described in terms of love – a deep love for the Prophet that translates itself into love for his
family. I was especially attracted by the emotion that plays such a dominant role in Shii piety, as
evidenced by the greater acceptance of figurative art, music (although some might not call it
that), poetry, and para-religious drama and processions. In many ways, I think this is linked to
the idea that was often brought up in class of the Shii theology being a theology bounre out of
persecution rather than triumph. In a triumphal and imperial context, law and regulation and
official theology can develop and be prescribed. While these things are also found in Shii
contexts, persecution often leads to the survival of beliefs and traditions in a more basic and folkcultural manner.
A prime example of the Shii practice is the annual remembrance of the slaying of the Prophet’s
grandson Hussein, by a rival faction . But for the Shii, it does not stop at remembrance - the
deep emotion of the event is almost relived. This takes various physical manifestations such as
flagellation or self mutilation, but at the core of what seem to be shocking practices is a desire,
born out of deep love, to identify with the Prophet’s family. I found reliving these emotive
moments to be a particularly powerful method, quite apart from any theological underpinnings of
such an event, of dealing with daily human tragedy. Equally human is the idea of other
intercessory figures, especially the Imams who are true guides for the world. These two ideas –
the presence of a guide, and the sympathetic influence of past afflictions of a great hero –
resonated with me as a poignant way of dealing with human affliction in the world. Out of these
two ideas was born a song that I wrote, addressed to the Imam Ali, begging his help for
contemporary issues, in the light of similar problems to those endured by his family at Karbala.
The full explanation and implications of the song can be found along with the text. At its heart
however, is a basic human feeling which was what inspired me to write it: you went through this,
we are going through this, so you can sympathize with our condition, therefore, we beg you to
help. I felt that it was a song that could only arise from the type of deep personal connection felt
between individuals.
Mystical Islam
While I enjoyed the writing of devotional songs in honor of spiritual intermediaries, and the deep
personal love for these figures that the songs represented, the “problem” was that my conception
of the deity was still shaped (largely) in terms of a somewhat remote and aloof figure, sovereign
and supreme yet mediated by other more emotionally-tangible figures. Enter Sufi Islam with its
mystical practices and focus on the love of God and attaining union with the Divine through that
love. It was an aspect of Islam quite foreign to me. I began to appreciate not only its role within
Islam, but also, as I gradually saw more and more how much it complimented belief systems of
other religions, how Islam was not really all that different from other faith experiences.
Similar to the way I was captivated by the figure of the Prophet and the figures of Shii Islam, the
Sufi practice resonated with me because it had a very personal devotional component to it, and
made ample use of human emotion. As before, I was fascinated on how the doctrine of the
Oneness of God did not preclude human agents mediating a divine power. But even more than
that, I was drawn by how the sufis themselves recognized how music and poetry were means of
stirring the soul to contemplation of divine things. It is for this reason that I decided, for one of
my creative projects, to pen a ghazal.
Why a ghazal? In the first place, it was simply because I enjoy listening to poetry as a means of
expression and the complicated through regular structure of the ghazal was vaguely fascinating
to my mathematical mind. But beyond that, it was because poetry formed an essential component
of life in that age, and still does in modern society. I wanted to see if it would be possible
approach that experience, and I felt that the best way to understand that culture and the sufi
mindset would be to attempt to write a poem.
Not only was writing the poem difficult, but it gave me a strong appreciation for the
‘otherworldliness’ of Sufi thought. The ghazal was on a typical theme – expressing love for the
Divine Beloved – but in writing in, I decided to employ the common approach of using
paradoxes. The paradox truly illustrated to what extent Sufi thought tests the boundaries of
human sensibilities and conventions. While it was hard to think of the first few unconventional
images, gradually it became easier and easier. Indeed, the whole composition was an exercise in
seeing how Sufism proposes things that seem counter to the ordinary human experience. The
overriding belief in the absolute Unity of God - a Unity so profound that instead of the reality
being transcendent, it is so personal as to subsume any other reality - was both powerful and
helpful in considering the actions and thoughts of a Sufi, and why these often run counter to
“ordinary” human experience. By recognizing this radical truth, the soul travels along a path that
eventually leads to annihilation in God. Yet travelling along the path and annihilation itself often
leads to attitudes that are incomprehensible – an extreme example being the famous mystic alHallaj announcing “I am the Truth”. However, it is only through being freed from the confines of
mortal bodies and mortal constructs that the soul can achieve union – a philosophy articulated
through the use of paradoxical and shocking images. In constructing each image, my inner
puzzlement or even mild revulsion made me appreciate how hard it is to divest oneself of one’s
personal ego and self.
In addition to a ghazal, I also attempted to illustrate the process of enlightenment as captured by
Farid ud-Din Attar in a visual manner through making a cover for a mirror. In using an everyday
object, I was trying to capture the idea of the sufi experience as a daily lived experience, not a
one-time high, or a occasional foray into esotericism. It is bothersome to open so many covers,
and flipping through them to view the mirror will at first be slow but later faster as the user
becomes more and more familiar with the pictures. This accurately captured for me the stages in
the sufi experience in a very simple and visual manner. In addition to be artistically beautiful, I
think pictures also cause us to sit and contemplate and contemplation leads to the divine.
Islamic Modernity
The last response that I wrote was somewhat uncharacteristic in that it did not celebrate any
intermediary figures, but was linked to the others in my preference for a form that displayed
emotion. I decided to use the Persian poetic form of the masnavi to write a short poem imagining
myself as a modern Muslim on the more progressive side of Islam. I did this more as a response
to the other projects as a whole. Doing the other projects had made me question why certain
forms of Islam seemed more prevalent and publicized than others. It had also introduced the
question of who really, if anyone at all, has the authority to define Islam in the modern day.
Often it seemed that modern Islam was a very different incarnation from its past selves –
somewhat narrower and rigorist and less willing to accept the diversity of the past. As I
mentioned previously, poetry and poetic forms in the culture of the region, both historically even
in the Prophet’s lifetime, and upto the modern day, have been means to express a range of
emotions including dissatisfaction and political opposition. Given this, I penned a masnavi as a
way of expressing my dismay at how certain interpretations of Islam often seem to monopolize
the conversation, both for Muslims and non-Muslims. Loosely modeled on the style of
“Complaint and Answer” of Mohammad Iqbal, this masnavi was more of a call for Muslims to
reevaluate assumptions of authority and interpretation, in the light of the speaker’s view of the
pluralistic strands of thoughts in Islamic history from its inception. In this way, the poem brought
me back in a full circle to the question of “whose Islam”. Certainly, I think that it captures the
spirit that underlines all the works I have produced in the course – that a religion claiming a
divine origin cannot be circumscribed and categorized by only one particular human experience
but is enriched by the diverse contributions of many traditions and communities of interpretation.