Fana of Class Aesthetics


Morality is the by product of class aesthetics-

You a better 'moralist' always accusing and othering- ugh! Engaged in moral policing-

Advocating right and wrong-

Have learnt right through the might of rights- the so called 'Privileged', 

Fana- Fana-Fana-Fana-Fana! 

Fana of class- let all these established aesthetics get demolished, 

Fana of nafs- Fana of selves in the light of glorious understanding -You, then are not alone! 

For if you dissolve self in this process is unified with the unity! 

For then the aesthetics that comes is from the higher universe- an order resurrected! 

Order for the right doings- the righteousness! 

Moral justice! 

Established! 

Long gone- vanity! 

Farseeing! 

Fana- Fana- Fana-Fana of all the learnt perspectives! 

For after that will come to light an inner perspective -that you shall believe! 

Own that self-emanating from the above and beneath- sacred wisdom! 

Fana,Fana, Fana- Till I breath your name!

Open your eyes, 

Open your eyes,

Open your eyes,

Those eyes are lurking through a shroud- 

Shroud of Turin- imprint of divinity! 

And through the ash, the soul arose, 

Baqa for those who rose without throwns-
Alive in death, and dead in flesh,
But clothed in light, entirely fresh,

In the hush before the veil was torn,
A whisper danced where time is born-
Not clockwise hours, but breathless now,

In Sufi dust, the dervish turned,
And from his limbs the self he burned,

Fana the flame that kissed the clay,
Took all but soul and gave it way,

Not blood nor wound, but coded fire,
A print of soul in light attire,

Mystiques  sang beneath that sky:
Nothing remains but the face most high.

Resurrection not of bone,
But of the self no longer owned,
In mirror’s depth, the secret said loud:

Ya Rab, I have known you forever! 

I have seen you when nobody else has seen me, 

I have heard you when nobody else has heard my voice and, 

I have come across you when nobody else has ever hold me, 

Divine womb- in death shall we again meet and greet!

In the meanwhile grinding in the grit!

In deathbed and in grave- in the darkness surrounded  shall we talk about light-

The light I have seen before- after that-I was blind for thousand years! 

Thousand years I forgot you, 

You were erased from my memory-

My bones, 

My lafz,

My penial gland,

My being!

In the symphony I came across and sang the wrong lyrics- relics of a forgotten soul,

Oh, Hayder, you enlighten me, 

Hayder, you whisper that song to me, 

My soul yearns for the return, 

My earlobes want that comfort-

Noisy cities erupting my soul-

Class aesthetics ruining my call-

Hayder, Hayder, Save me, 

I want to go back to where I belong! 


©® Farheen Bhuiyan Nancy 

Time Frame: 12.43 pm, Mirpur Cantonment, Dhaka-1216






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