Most of these people are poor, uneducated and illiterate Muslims who barely survive on a mound of rice and daal, perhaps a few scraps of meat once a month.  Among these Muslims, is a minority newcomer group that are the most hard core militant sect.  These are a radical lot whose brethren have usually been associated with planting bombs in mosques that incite sectarian violence in Pakistan.  With plenty of cash, they have made some inroads into the hearts and minds of some.

Through the good offices of Al Imaan and blessings of Allah (SWT) we were able to guide a young Bengali to the original Islam  and he not only saved himself but his entire 20 member family.  So impressed was the impact on this community after learning that about 300 from this community also converted.   Sabir Raza (new name) showed such a lot of curiosity, rapid grasp of the religion and leadership that we, under the sponsorship of Aga Musevi, flew him to Syria.  In short, he now leads the Hawza in Damascus.  Imagine, a convert Bengali imparting Islamic knowledge to Arabs and Iranian students; blessed are His ways.

Back to Chovis Chargana village. We have a tremendous opportunity here to invite many, many more to the right path.  You already know and understand the misery and poverty of these people from my past postings, so I will not go there.  But you must know that you cannot invite to anybody to anything on an empty stomach.  There are huge possibilities and time is of critical essence.  We have to counter the efforts of forces that will create sure disaster for these eager to learn masses and insha'Allah make them into lovers of our A'immas (ASJ).

My aim is a very simple and straight forward approach to the very basic level of survival.  Due to the recent flooding that destroyed many villages, housing is of primary importance.  Housing, for your information, consists of six poles with a crude plastic top and sides.  The next most important issue is basic health care and education.  We have volunteers student alims ready to travel to Bengal to impart basic Islamic knowledge from how to perform wuzu & gusal to teaching namaaz.  They do this service free of charge, only basic food is provided to them.  On the flip side, issues that deal with health care, for children mostly, like washing hands after toilet, keeping good hygiene etc is critical.  Bengal government is fairly progressive in education, so we take full advantage of their very basic facilities to the fullest for this purpose.

Insha'Allah, I will visit Chovis Chargana village on my next trip to India preliminarily scheduled for January and I need your support once again. Together, we have done much in India general and Govendhi in particular and may Allah (SWT) accept that and counter it against our sins on the mizan.  There is much to be done however.  We have published books in Bengali that have shown positive responses but we now have to attack the housing and tablig issues on an urgent basis.  I have an open Ijaza from the office of the Ayatullah and khums can be used for this purpose, no problem.  For donors who want a receipt from Aga, I can arrange that as well.  It may take some time due to the problems in Iraq but it can be arranged.

And then, I cried for Bengal - (Part One)

The flight from Mumbai to Calcutta was uneventful, Jet Airways service and food above par, better than any US carrier. I was met by my two chaperons, Maulana Mohsin Reza and Maulana Ahmed Ali Abedi. Maulana Reza is a pioneer with tabligh work in Bengal, have given almost twenty years to serve in Calcutta and Maulana Abedi runs the Hawza at Najafi House in Mumbai among many other services in India and abroad.

The roads became progressively bad as we crawled to the interior towards Goalati averaging about 25 mph. I began having breathing problems almost immediately, as the pollution spewing from trucks that crisscross the main highway arteries in Bengal have no regulatory checks; I must have breathed a thousand cigarettes that day. We stopped for zohr prayers and lunch at a small Hawza, and then proceeded towards Goalati, which was earmarked for my visit. Goalati borders Bangladesh, a stone throw from a river we crossed at a small village. The ferry was so rickety, I had serious doubts we would make it across, especially when it took on a truck carrying baked bricks. The ferry tilted dangerously at one end, kicking my heart into overtime, I was certain we were all going drown. It miraculously stabilized, and we inched across. I was eager to step on dry land, and did so before the truck got out.

Nearing Goalati, the air pollution disappeared and I breathed easier. Goalati and Amrul Gacha are two villages that have a combined population of about 2,000, dirt poor, Bengali speaking people. These people have no land, no employment and no houses to speak of. Main income comes from rolling bedis ; a crude form of cigarette made from tobacco leafs. Middlemen from cities provide them with the raw material that is rolled up to make bedis . One thousand bedis fetch Rupees 40 (about 90 US cents). This task requires sitting in one place for about 14 hours doing the same repetitive work, every day of the year. If a couple work on this all the time, they may be able to do it and have 2,000 ready at the end of the day for the $1.80. Usually they can't and so the children, (many no more that seven or eight) kick in to fill the quota.

This, my friends, is where disaster breeds disaster. When you take away children from educating themselves, you breed a cycle of ignorance and disaster that is passed down generations. I was introduced to several of the community members and mostly listened to them. They related their tales of woe to me, thinking and hoping I was a savior of some sort, come to rescue them. What could I say? I could only console them, shake their outstretched hands (I must have shaken a thousand hands that evening) and prayed for them. We were taken to a small neighborhood mosque  for magrib salaat. In Bengal, magrib is swift and sudden; you have twilight and then darkness. We did wudhu out the mosque compound, in darkness, and offered magrib / isha in a packed masjid with one lit candle to guide us. Was it like this during the early days of Islam under the Mtume (SAW), I wondered?

We were swarmed with the villagers after prayers; everybody, I mean everybody, wanting to shake our hands. Groping arms guided me to heavily coarse hands that I clasped and shook; and shook and shook, over and over. A man, in agony over a gangrened foot, came hobbling towards us, sobbing. I was terrified and instinctively cringed. Then feeling ashamed, I steeled myself to look and hear him out. He related that he had gangrened his foot and needed funds for treatment otherwise it would be cut off. We have, under Al Imaan Foundation, an emergency medical fund that helps poor people with a portion of their expenses. The process is long and sometimes cumbersome due to the checks and balances for proper disbursement of funds. I requested an immediate review of the case and medical treatment the next day; was the least I could do.

The mosque needed a place for wudhu, and more importantly, a place for urination. This, the people told me, was critical. I agreed and authorized the US $1,500.00 it would take to build it. I didn't know where the money would come from, but what could I do? Allah (SWT) has never let me down before, I know He won't let me down this time or in the future.

Heartbroken and emotionally drained from my first day's experience, we drove in silence, the four hours it required (including the ferry trip again) for us to reach the Hawza in Hougly. Hardly able to eat dinner, for it was 11PM and I was very exhausted, I went to sleep on a charpoy, under a canopy of mosquito net. With unknown noises of the night outside and the subdued voices of students in the wards across the room, I fell restlessly asleep.

To be continued.

Photographs:

962 - A typical mud house; gets significantly eroded during the monsoons.

963 - Tobacco being protected from rain.

964 - Rolling bidis.

965 - House protected from rains.

966 - A leaking house.

967 - Me :)

And then, I cried for Bengal - (Part Two)

I woke up at four; some quambakth had decided to listen to Hindi filmi songs, very loud. I was later told that it was the temple across the Hougly River that was playing Hindu devotional hymns. As it was still very dark, I could not do much but try and sleep, but the loud music made it impossible. Fajr azaan blared at five and I got my first look at the crumbling Hawza and her students, about 75 in all, from about five years old to ones near graduation for further education in India or Iran for the more qualified.

In 1806, an Iranian mo'min, Haji Mohammed Mohsin Isfahani, donated a parcel of land to be used for educational / religious purposes. In 1840, a wealthy businessman and architect, Karamat Ali, began construction on a mammoth project to build an imambargha and Hawza. The project took 22 years to complete and the final result was an impressive, imposing structure that is truly remarkable. It is difficult to describe the structure so I hope the attached photos will do it some justice. It has a twin replica of the Big Ben of London, the only in the world, weighing about six tons! Unfortunately, the entire imposing structure lies decaying. The once blooming population has dwindled, and the once magnificent Moharram julus and tazia remain silent and neglected. I visited the imambargha and was pained at the silence and desolation of the place. As I turned to leave after salaams to Imam Hussein (AS), a obviously Hindu looking women then entered, fell to her knees and kissed the floor of the imambargha.  I was told that Hindus come to Muharram julus in droves on Aashura day.

After visiting with the students and having a hearty breakfast, we drove off to Avval Siddhi, 30 miles but two hours away! At one point, we simply inched our way across waves of humanity, packed at the local bazaar. Avval Sindhi is a Jamat E Islami stronghold, a very militant group akin to the Wahabi sect. In a cluster of many villages, live about twelve to fourteen families, rolling bedis for a living . A frail man of about forty, an "old" convert to Islam original, welcomed us to his extended family. Three of his right hand fingers were stiff with arthritis, unbending; years of rolling bedis had made his right hand useless.

He related his usual woes through an interpreter and I empathized with his difficulties. Then he invited me to his home, a mud house that was screened by a mud stained mat. He swept it aside, and I stepped and peered into the gloomy interior. There was very little on the left hand side of the "house"; a few drab clothes and what looked like a sleeping mat. But on the right hand side stood a zarih of Imam Hussein (AS). A small dusty, crude village-made zarih all right, but a zarih nevertheless, here in the middle of nowhere. I was overcome by emotion and recalled Allah's promise to Imam Hussein (AS), that of keeping the Imam's name alive, wherever and whenever. Assalaam alaika ya aba abdillah!

When I stepped out, I was startled to see the man weeping; plump, milky tears rolled down his gaunt cheeks and kept on coming. I consoled him and asked him what the problem was. Was he sick? Hungry? Did he want money for his family? But the guy shook his head negatively as the interpreter translated. Finally, he told me that his community of forty to fifty wanted a small mosque. It was eating into him that his small community was in danger of losing out to the Wahabis who were trying to "buy" the younger men to their side. Would I help him? Would I build a mosque? He would happily demolish one side of his home to accommodate the one room structure and others would contribute part of their land. The cost? US 1,700.00. If they would turn over the deed to the donated land to Al Imaan, I said, the mosque would be built, insha'Allah. What would you do? Mawlana Abedi also arranged for an aalim to visit this village every Thursdays and stay there until after Juma prayers; the villagers happily agreed to provide accommodation and food necessary for the two day stay.

Feeling strangely at peace, I joined my companions on a tour of two other villages, each about fifty miles apart where Tableegh work was at an upswing, with many new converts. Please understand that the converts here are from the Jamaat e Islami sect, a very staunch Sunni sect.

All along the pathways leading up to the villages, I noticed rows of skewers with what looked like giant sheeh- kebabs lay out in the open. Intrigued, I asked my companions about the kebabs and they had a hearty laugh. These were cow dung kept to dry in the sun and to be used as cooking fuel. A very effective and free source of pollution free energy.

We prayed at their mosques and ate their food and interacted with them. I truly enjoyed my day in village life with very simple, poor people who were very generous in their welcome and food. I ate tons of fish, for it is the main protein intake, rather than meat, of Bengalis and lots of sweet yogurt, which was out of this world. I know that the food they served was a luxury for them, for rice and daal is the mainstay diet throughout the year. The only difficulty I encountered was going for call of nature, which was under the sky and squatting is a balancing act that I have long forgotten. One has to go behind the village, among the tall trees and green vegetation, carrying a lota . I was constantly in dread of a snake or scorpion taking fancy to my bared behind.

To be continued.

Photographs:

969 - The Imambargah at Hougly

970 - The replica of Big Ben at Hougly

971 - The Zarih of Imam Hussein (AS) at Avval Sidhi

972 - The house where the Zarih is located.

973 - Rolling of bedis.

980 - "Kabab" cow dung drying in the sun.

And then, I cried for Bengal - (Part Three)

Day three dawned with me not feeling well at all; the air pollution had affected my upper respiratory system and I had developed asthma like symptoms. I was in two minds about embarking on the third and final day of visits to the villages. This third day schedule was long; with a five hour drive to the village of Chandpur and a further walking hike because there are no vehicular roads that made it all the way to the village proper. I coughed and wheezed my way through salaat and breakfast and determined that I would go after all.

I took maximum advantage of my two aalim companions for it is indeed rare to get such personalities alone for any length of time here in the USA. So it was questions galore all the five and a half hours that it took to get to the outskirts of Chandpur; all the questions / clarifications that I had always wanted and was unable to get answers to. The two aalims must have tired of me, for I was relentless. Both are decedents of one of my favorite Imam Sajjad (AS) so I had a unique and wonderful opportunity of their undivided attention for hours that day.

Chandpur is a pioneer village in Bengal as far as Tabligh is concerned. Here, some 25 years ago, after the Islamic movement that swept through Iran and impacted the world, a Bengali got the wisdom to dig for Islam original. He researched and learned and even went to Iran before coming to the logical conclusion and embraced the teachings Ahle Bait (AS) and the Quraan as being Islam original. He hid his imaan due to the obvious perils that prevailed in his village, only the most dear and near him knew. He educated his entire family and instilled upon them the discipline of independent research before accepting anything to do with faith.

His imaan and efforts have borne tremendous fruits; his entire family and clan, in addition to another hundred or so people have reverted to Islam original. His two grandchildren are final term muqalids at the Hawza at Najafi House, Mumbai and will be going on to Iran for further education. The most important contribution by this family has been the translation of religious books into Bengali, non existent until very recently. So far, the following books have been translated and used as propagation material, providing invaluable resource for those willing to revert:

Al Muraajiyat - The Right Path

Khalifat vs. Imaamat

Hilyatul Mutaqeen - Etiquettes of the Pious

There are nine others works that Habib and other students want to translate and publish but have funding issues. I promised I would look into finding donors.

We had to abandon our vehicle some three miles from the village, as the driver refused to go any further; the lanes had become too narrow. So we walked through villages, taking in the tranquility of the green paddy fields, family's busy pounding rice from paddy, tilling soil, urging buffalos tilling through winter soil or milking cows. At one village, a woman ran to scoop up fresh cow dropping as it happened, apparently immune to the overpowering smell that made us uncomfortable, and as quickly, shaped it into a large kabob on a skewer. Hundreds of these skewers lined every village we passed, for they are an invaluable source of fuel.

We were warmly received by the household of Habib, the grandson student. I was advised to be careful in what I said, as the village had been through some unease over the reversion of many of its Ahle Sunnat inhabitants. We had not offered our prayers so we moved to a small Sunni mosque and offered Jamaat namaaz in the compound, careful not to offend a large crowd that had gathered, watching us intently. I was a little apprehensive, as some faces looked openly sullen and hostile. Thank Allah, we had no incident as the Imam of the mosque came and tried to shoo away the crowd.

We were served a hearty lunch and invited the Imam, who, after carefully considering the offer in light of the watching crowd, reluctantly agreed; sumptuous meals come rare in Chandpur. The guy was actually a strong candidate for Tabligh, as he had shown keen interest in the books given to him. There followed an intense discussion between him and the two aalims on the Imamat of Ali (AS) and the times after the death of Mtume (SWA). I took delight in talking to the reverts: what made them reconsider, what problems they faced, what was the reaction of their families and next of kin.?

All of them faced many hardships, mainly from their immediate families who turned intensely hostile. One young man was thrown out of his house and stripped of his share of the little food that been harvested that summer. Others had pitched in and were giving him shelter and meal assistance while he began all over again. Remarkably, all of the reverts had done solid research into the merits of Ahle Bait (AS) before taking the truthful step; nothing emotional or coerced here. And what particular book or work of Islam original had inspired them? Almost all of them cited As-Sahifa Al-Kkamilah Al-Sajjadiyya of Imam Sajjad (AS) as the core source of inspiration.

After inspecting a site where the village wanted to construct their own imambargah / mosque that could accommodate about 120 people (cost about $2,800), we left for our long drive to Hougly. I was in a pensive mood on the drive back and my hosts must have noticed it for they were consistently asked about my coughing and not too great health. But it was the bounty I had received that I contemplated; I felt humbled and blessed that Allah had given me such an opportunity. The last three days had been full of altering emotions for me; from the very low at some of the poverty I encountered and to the apex when I met and related with my fellow mo'mins and took delight at their reversion to Islam original and the pleasures they took in small bounties. I was more concerned however, at to the course of action that I would now take.

I flew back to Mumbai the next day.

This concludes part 3 of 3; the conclusion and a plan of action will follow shortly

Photographs:

981   - "House" for a local aalim, awaiting funds for repairs.

983   - Impromptu discussion.

984   - A cute baby goat...

985   - Site for a mosque, donated by a new revert, the only inheritance from his grandfather.

1000 - Village lanes that flood during monsoons.

1003 - Pristine village

And then, I cried for Bengal - (Conclusion)

I hope you found my three part series on Bengal informative; providing for you an insight to a world outside of our immediate domain and knowledge.  We are a diverse lot and it always surprises and delights me to discover new pockets of fellow brethren with different cultures and outlook.  This visit was an eye opener for; one of many that I have encountered in India.

Now, there is a phenomenon that is known as "donor fatigue" or "donor burnout" which refers to being constantly asked for charity until one shuts off the plea just like that of a nagging spouse.  And I understand and empathize with the feeling.  I am not asking from you more than you already do or can do.  Please keep my following proposals in mind and consider them as worthy of attention.  One way or another, we have to pitch in and help these mo'mins, there is no other way around it.  Now that we are aware of these people's plight, can we just not do anything?

Here then, are my three proposals:

1.  That we undertake the building of small imambargaghs / mosques in villages that have none, especially where tabligh efforts have borne fruit.  We have locally trained aalims that are ready to head these places and their salary comes from Al Imaan Foundation.  The mosques are not very big and will not cost more than US 3,000 each and each village that need it had to contribute 10% of the cost. This effort is most critical.  Look, we cannot undertake tabligh efforts that results in successes and then not have a center for reinforcing and maintaining that imaan, it just does not make sense.

2.  As with any community, and I have seen it universally, poverty and ignorance is a cycle which breeds on itself.  We all need an opportunity, that's all.  There is no substitute for education and unless we free the children to pursue a good education, there is no hope for them.  I am proposing establishing a middlemen fund that will buy the raw materials for the bedis.  In villages where bedi rolling is a prominent occupation, this will be provided to any adult wishing to participate in the program.  The end product will be marketed and all profits will then be distributed to the village.  If we can swing this, and I know we can, each roller has the potential of making five times what she / he currently makes.  Not only will this help in immediate poverty alleviation but more importantly, free the children to go to school and have a decent opportunity in life.  Al Imaan is ready to provide an in-house administrator to oversee this project.  We need about $14,000 to kick start this project, for the raw materials and the lead time it will take for the funds to roll back into the program.  I am also looking into a long term payback system, where the $14,000 can be repaid from the profits over a 10 year period.  Perhaps.

3.  We need some funds for translation and publishing books in Bengali; there is a growing demand for them.  There are nine books that have already been translated and needs publishing.  Total cost is about US $3,000 for a total of 7,000 copies.

So there you are friends.  Pretty ambitious perhaps?  But nothing ventured, nothing gained and with Allah's help and your push and assistance, it will be done.  I will try my best but need your help.  Please?

Please note the following points:

1. I have permission from Ayatullah Seestani to collect up to $1,000,000 in khums money for causes in India.  50% can obviously be spent on sadaat projects and 25% on others, with remaining 25% to be deposited to Aga's account.  I can provide receipts for the 50% sehme imam funds from Aga's office in London and if really required, from Aga himself.

2. A very generous donor has provided funds for me to establish a non-profit charitable trust here in the USA; it has become important I take this step.  This will benefit mo'mins who want to donate but hesitate due to lack of a tax deductible receipt.  The process had just been initiated and may take up to six months or more to complete but I assure you receipts will be available for 2005 deductions.

3. As usual, 100% of your money goes into the projects; not a single penny is used for "administration" costs; nothing, nada, zilch.  My air travel, accommodation, local travel, wire transfer costs, etc all is borne by me.  I am sorry to have to mention this again but it's important for new donors that have helped my causes and those who may wonder.

In the end, I invite anyone and all of you to visit my projects, both in Govendhi and Bengal whenever you are in India, either with me when I am there or by yourselves.  Let me know and I will arrange it for you.  You will see first hand what I write about and why I am so passionate about what I do.  I am certain you will find it rewarding and bring about positive changes in your life, as it has for me.