Built in the 14th century under Sultan Muhammad V, this courtyard was the zenith of Islamic architecture in al-Andalus.

One enters through a hall with the most exquisite stucco work supported slender columns.
In fact a delicate arcade of 124 slender marble columns, surrounds a white marble fountain held aloft by twelve lions, each one slightly different, as if caught in motion, guarding time itself.
The Islamic concept of water as a sacred, divine mercy was introduced into architecture based on descriptions in the Quran into Spain by the Umayyads and later Muslim kings.
This courtyard takes it further as it was designed on the same principles as a
microcosm of paradise, a space where the murmur of water, the play of light, and the symmetry of design bring the divine into the earthly realm. The lions, though seemingly at odds with Islamic aniconism, symbolized strength, sovereignty, and the fusion of cultural motifs from East and West, including Jewish and Christian influences.
As per the charbagh concept there are four narrow rills, representing the 4 rivers of paradise surrounding the 12 sided basin.
The fountain’s hydraulic design was an engineering marvel of its time.
Poets once described this court as “a pearl set in emeralds,” and indeed, it is a place where poetry, politics, and paradise meet—where the dream of Al-Andalus still lingers in stone and silence.
The fountain basin in the Court of the Lions (Alhambra, Granada) features an Arabic poem by Ibn Zamrak, the vizier and court poet of Sultan Muhammad V in the 14th century.
“…Can you not see how the water flows into the basin,
But it is hidden immediately by its pipes?
It is like a lover whose eyelids overflow with tears,
Tears that hide for fear of betrayal…”
Ibn Zamrak
(translated by D. Cabanelas and A. Fernández Puertas)

now check with this painting

Ibrahim Ibn Adham of Balkh Served by Angels
Probably by Mir Kalan Khan (active 1730-75)
From the Read Mughal Album
India, Mughal, Awadh,
circa 1760

“After a spiritual awakening, Ibrāhīm Ibn Adham (d. 798), an eighth-century ruler of Balkh, renounced his kingdom and wealth to become a wandering dervish. Part of his spiritual awakening happened one night when he heard people on the roof of his palace…Rūmī (1207–1273), a later Sufi mystic, also born in Balkh, recounted Ibrāhīm’s story in his six-volume poetic work, the Masnavī. Legend has it that Khiżr, the immortal guide of the Sufi, played a role and that Ibrāhīm, regarded as a spiritual ancestor of the Chishtī Sufi order, was fed by angels”
Read more: https://www.themorgan.org/collection/treasures-of-islamic-manuscript-painting/85#

The lion is a fitting metaphor: powerful, fierce, and dangerous when ruled by hunger or pride. But when tamed, that same power becomes a source of protection, dignity, and strength.

The path of the seeker is not to kill the lion, but to master it – to turn its strength toward service of the Divine.
As the Qur’an reminds us: “Indeed, the successful one is he who purifies his nafs.” (91:9)

#Sufism #Tasawwuf #Nafs #Tazkiya #SelfPurification #Mujahada #SpiritualJourney #InnerStruggle #LionWithin #EgoControl #TamingTheNafs #SufiWisdom #PathToGod #IslamicSpirituality #MysticPath #SufiQuotes #SoulDiscipline #HeartOverEgo #DivineLove #Ihsan

there are two verses inscribed on this vase :
“To a gazelle l had.
Oh gazelle!.
you always graze in my garden, lonely and dark-eyed like me: we are both alone with no maste.
Let us bear the sentence of fate patiently!”
by Qasmūna bint Ismail, a 12th-century Jewish poetess of al-Andalus—and one of the very few known female poets.

And
“You left me, oh gazelle!,
bound in the hands of misfortune.
Since you deserted me,
I have known no pleasure in sleep.”
by Ibn Zaydūn (1003 to 1070 CE) one of Andalusia’s most famous poets.

This vase is housed in the museum in Alhambra palace, Granada Spain.
Crafted in the time of Sultan Muhammad V (c. 1370–1380), the Vase of Gazelles, made possibly for the palace of Granada, is not merely a vessel, it is a lyrical fusion of art, poetry, and symbolism, representing the pinnacle of Nasrid ceramic craftsmanship in al-Andalus.

The vase’s elegance is as much technical as it is aesthetic. It reflects the remarkable advancement of ceramic techniques in the Islamic world: lusterware, intricate figuration, and cobalt blue overglaze set against earthy tones. The inscriptions and interlacing motifs echo architectural patterns, mirroring the refined synthesis of art and intellect that defined the Nasrid court

In poetry the characteristics of each animal are symbolic. Power and strength in the case of the lions, or the speed of the doves which act as messengers, while the delicate nature, speed and sweetness of gazelles in poetry have been used to symbolise the soul, the lover or longing for the lover.
From the fine curves of the calligraphy to the rhythmic symmetry of vegetal motifs, every detail of this vase speaks to a world where beauty was divine, and even the everyday object could become a vehicle for transcendence.

As we behold this masterpiece today, we see not just a vase, but an entire world contained in clay, pigment, and poetry.

Growing up in a very secular and liberal household, moving about in the syncretic society of the 1960s and ’70s, I had never been exposed to bigotry or even imagined it existed. The only discussion on the Partition of India that I had heard was the oft-quoted statement made by my Nana when asked to migrate in 1947 to a Muslim country, “Wahan ke Khuda ko mera salam kehna,” (Please convey my salam to the God there), implying that God did not belong to any particular country as well as his disapproval of the concept of an Islamic nation. For him and for the rest of our family, India was our country and that’s where we intended to live and die.

There was never any further discussion on it. Our identity was only of an Indian.

Thus I watched the movie without quite understanding its nuances or message and so was very surprised to see in the interval that my Nani, Amma and Khala had red and puffy eyes and they had been silently crying throughout the first half. I weep a lot in movies, especially when they are tragedies, but the underlying tragedy of this movie had gone over my head.

I had never been called a traitor, nor had my loyalties questioned in all my 17 years of existence, so I couldn’t really understand what the characters in the film were going through.

As the movie neared its climax, I remember hearing sobs. The scene where Balraj Sahni’s mother hides because she didn’t want to leave the house she came to as a young bride was the one that had roused their emotions. Nani, Amma and Khala were reliving the trauma of Partition and the emotional pain of seeing some of their relatives leave. Today my cousin and sisters who were there too say they don’t remember the movie leaving an impact on them, but recall its effect on the elders.

Today, as I watched Mulk, I remembered that day in 1974. As soon as the opening song finished and the story started unravelling, I cried.

I cried when Shahid became a terrorist. My tears were for a boy with a bright future who is brainwashed into bombing his fellow countrymen. I cried at the cynical manipulation of young boys (and girls) into believing that Islam teaches them to kill innocent people. I cried for the ignorance of Muslims regarding their own religion and Holy Scriptures that leads to some being misled.

We have to accept that a problem exists and talk about it. And find ways of making Muslims themselves understand the Holy Quran fully, not just random verses taken out of context and get a distorted understanding.

I cried at the bewilderment of Shahid’s family who had no idea he had been indoctrinated into terrorism. All of us should definitely keep a watch over the activities of our family members and prevent them falling prey to online marauders who manipulate gullible youth into becoming terrorists by playing on imagined and historical wrongs. Social media, especially Whatsapp, plays on the vulnerability of young and old from every walk of life, sect and religion. No one, be they of any religion, is safe from these marauders. A dialogue in the film is, “Terrorism is a criminal activity, not a religious one.”

I cried at every humiliation that Bilal was subjected to. I lived it with him because today one hears of many Muslim men who are arrested on mere suspicion and kept in jail for ages as under trials while their innocence or guilt is established. Proof, not prejudice, should be the reason for arrest and incarceration.

I cried when I saw the words “Go to Pakistan,” written on the walls of Shahid’s house. Today, I understand what bigotry is. I encounter it often, some subtle some not so subtle. When a conversation about lynching with an old, old friend, initiated by him in the first place, ends in him asking me, “What about ISIS?” I was too shocked to give an answer, for I had no idea what mob lynching in India had to do with the barbaric not-so-Islamic ISIS in Syria. Was it because they called themselves Muslims and I am one? Wasn’t I an Indian to him any longer? Could I not question lapses in law and order in my country without being held answerable for barbaric and terror acts of Muslims everywhere in the world?

I cried when Murad Ali had to prove his patriotism and love for his mulk. I love my country and shouldn’t have to prove it, just as others of a different faith don’t need to prove their patriotism.

I cried that we have to keep fighting otherisation and that it increasingly comes down to ‘us vs them’ instead of the ‘we’ I grew up with. The ‘we’ that the Constitution guarantees us as “We the people of India”, which a character in the film reminds us of.
I cried when Murad Ali says he doesn’t want to leave his mulk. I remembered when we were in the Gulf and offered immigration to Canada or a green card for the United States of America. My husband’s reaction was, “Why should I leave the place I grew up in? I want to grow old and die in my country.” I totally agreed with him. So we came back.

I cried because today, I know what being a Muslim entails. When I had seen Garm Hava, my only identity was that of an Indian.

And finally I cried out of sheer joy because I know there are many Artis in this world. I cried because I can still count many male and female friends in my life who are Artis who light lamps of joy to dispel gloom. I cried because only they deserve my emotions.

Published in Scroll

https://scroll.in/reel/889162/why-i-cried-while-watching-mulk-i-finally-know-what-it-means-to-be-a-muslim-in-india?fbclid=IwQ0xDSwMAp_NleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHpv7_KaRWvDrtblHR6snZOHI8LF8nl9dlZruDu56ipHIFZEgQPpgRTI_g6vn_aem_lfCY6eXk-QhgN3OkmPQIZg

Built in the 14th century under Sultan Muhammad V, this courtyard was the zenith of Islamic architecture in al-Andalus.

One enters through a hall with the most exquisite stucco work supported slender columns.
In fact a delicate arcade of 124 slender marble columns, surrounds a white marble fountain held aloft by twelve lions, each one slightly different, as if caught in motion, guarding time itself.
The Islamic concept of water as a sacred, divine mercy was introduced into architecture based on descriptions in the Quran into Spain by the Umayyads and later Muslim kings.
This courtyard takes it further as it was designed on the same principles as a
microcosm of paradise, a space where the murmur of water, the play of light, and the symmetry of design bring the divine into the earthly realm. The lions, though seemingly at odds with Islamic aniconism, symbolized strength, sovereignty, and the fusion of cultural motifs from East and West, including Jewish and Christian influences.
As per the charbagh concept there are four narrow rills, representing the 4 rivers of paradise surrounding the 12 sided basin.
The fountain’s hydraulic design was an engineering marvel of its time.
Poets once described this court as “a pearl set in emeralds,” and indeed, it is a place where poetry, politics, and paradise meet—where the dream of Al-Andalus still lingers in stone and silence.
The fountain basin in the Court of the Lions (Alhambra, Granada) features an Arabic poem by Ibn Zamrak, the vizier and court poet of Sultan Muhammad V in the 14th century.
“…Can you not see how the water flows into the basin,
But it is hidden immediately by its pipes?
It is like a lover whose eyelids overflow with tears,
Tears that hide for fear of betrayal…”
Ibn Zamrak
(translated by D. Cabanelas and A. Fernández Puertas)

Spain thus saw the forced conversion or expulsion of Muslims (Moors), Jews, and later, pressure on Roma (Gypsies) who came to Spain the 15th century. The gypsies i spoke to said they had come from India.
These groups were often denied land ownership, pushed outside city walls, and excluded from mainstream housing.
With no legal rights to property, and often targeted by the Inquisition, these marginalized communities took to the outskirts of Granada. The Romas started building their homes by digging into the soft, uninhabited, steep hillsides of Sacromonte, beyond the reach of church and city authorities.
This hillside is still inhabited by the Romas though now most live in concrete homes
Some of the cave homes were made into a museum~Museo Cuevas del Sacromonte.
A very steep climb up but I managed it on a very hot afternoon.
Nine caves have been transformed into museums whoch showcase their lifestyles.
Interestingly, flamenco also originated here
with the “zambra”, a passionate Andalusian/Roma dance that evolved from Moorish traditions. Zambra were held in these cave homes and were historically suppressed by the Inquisition before being revived in modern times.
Note : Golden Age of Tolerance (Especially 8th–10th Century)
Under rulers like the Umayyads of Córdoba (particularly Abd al-Rahman III and Al-Hakam II), religious and cultural tolerance flourished.
Iin general too the Moors—Muslims who ruled large parts of the Iberian Peninsula from 711 to 1492-practiced a degree of religious tolerance. Jews held important administrative positions.

So when i heard that Segovia near Madrid has a Roman aqueduct, we went there. Ours was a road trip so we could change plans & spent the night there . @bookingcom zindabad for hotels.
The Segovia aqueduct was built by the Romans around the 1st century CE and is one of the most jaw-dropping feats of Roman engineering still standing.
It’s mind boggling and as I walked along its length and to the top I could only be glad that we had come.
Also chasing arches is my favourite pastime & i chased arches all over Andalusia!
The aqueduct double arches may have provided inspiration for the double arches of the Cordoba mezquita/ mosque too.

#SegoviaAqueduct #RomanEngineering #AncientArchitecture #HistoricLandmarks #UNESCOWorldHeritage #VisitSpain #SpainTravel #SegoviaSpain #TravelEurope #HistoricSpain #RomanRuins #arches #cordobamezquita

The story of glazed tiles begins in ancient Mesopotamia and Egypt, some five thousand years ago. I remember being dazed by the brilliance of the Ishtar Gate of Babylon, built around 575 BCE-its deep blue bricks gleaming under the Mesopotamian sun, adorned with lions and dragons in radiant glazes in Berlin.
Even then, humans sought to immortalize beauty in clay and fire.

Centuries later, this legacy travelled through Persia, Central Asia, and North Africa, blossoming in the Islamic world. The techniques became ever more refined: tin-glazing, lusterware, cuerda seca-each method a reflection of both scientific inquiry and spiritual contemplation.

But it is in the Nasrid Palaces of the Alhambra in Granada that this tradition reached poetic heights. In these 14th-century halls, glazed tiles-azulejos and alicatados-clothe the walls like a second skin. Intricate stars, tessellations, and arabesques bloom across surfaces, their symmetry speaking of the divine order.

💠 Blue, green, white, gold-colours that whisper of paradise.
🕌 Geometry that draws the eye into infinity.
📜 Kufic and cursive scripts inscribed on tile surfaces carry verses of poetry and praise.

These tiles aren’t just decoration, they are devotion in fired clay.

#Alhambra #IslamicArt #GlazedTiles #Granada #NasridPalaces #MoorishSpain #RanaSafviTravels #SacredGeometry #ArtHistory #Azulejos #Alicatado #SpainThroughMyLens

During the Islamic period, a mosque was built on the site, and its minaret—believed to be one of the oldest in Spain—was later repurposed as a bell tower. A brick upper section was added by Christian builders, but much of the original Islamic decorative detailing, such as friezes and carved arches, was preserved. When the mosque was converted into a church in the 12th century, it wasn’t entirely demolished but adapted, preserving what came before.

What struck me most was how Toledo allows history to rest, not become contested. These are living churches, still in use for worship, yet open to the idea that history matters—even if it’s from another faith. In recent years, many such sites have undergone careful excavation, and the findings—fragments of mosques, earlier churches, tombs—are preserved in situ and respectfully displayed. The Church of El Salvador is a beautiful example of this.

Visitors can walk through marked subterranean passages that take you beneath the current church, into the remains of the mosque and even earlier Christian elements. These archaeological discoveries include horseshoe arches, Islamic inscriptions, Visigothic capitals, and reused Roman stonework—all held together in a remarkable palimpsest of history.

This layering of Visigothic, Islamic, and Christian periods doesn’t just reflect architectural evolution—it mirrors the soul of Toledo itself, a city shaped by confluence, not erasure.

#ChurchOfElSalvador #ToledoSpain #HistoricArchitecture #ArchitecturalHeritage #CulturalLayers #SacredSpaces #LivingHistory #ReligiousArchitecture #IslamicSpain #VisigothicHeritage #MoorishSpain #MosqueToChurch #MudéjarArt #AndalusianLegacy #ArchaeologicalSite #LayersOfHistory

Originally known as Mezquita Bab al-Mardum, it remained unchanged for centuries. After the Christian conquest of Toledo in 1085, it was converted into a chapel. Legend says King Alfonso VI discovered a hidden crucifix here, marking the site of the first Christian Mass after the reconquest.

In the 12th century, a Romanesque apse was added, blending Muslim craftsmanship with Christian symbolism—an early and rare example of Mudéjar art. You’ll also spot Visigothic elements in the reused columns and capitals.

Today, the Mezquita is a peaceful monument open to visitors, a living reminder of Toledo’s layered heritage—Islamic, Visigothic, and Christian—all under one small, breathtaking roof.

# #MezquitaDelCristoDeLaLuz #IslamicArchitecture #MudéjarArt #HistoricToledo #CulturalHeritage #HiddenGemsSpain #SpainTravel #AndalusiLegacy #MedievalSpain #ArchitecturalWonders #ReligiousHeritage #HistoryLovers #TravelBackInTime #PuertaDelSolToledo #SpanishMonuments #UNESCOHeritage #MuslimChristianFusion #SacredSpaces

Toledo, Spain—often called the “City of Three Cultures”—has a rich and layered history shaped by its Jewish, Christian, and Islamic heritage.
During the Middle Ages, Toledo became a major cultural and intellectual center. Scholars translated Arabic and Hebrew texts into Latin and Spanish here, helping preserve and transmit classical knowledge to Europe. Its skyline, marked by the Alcázar, cathedral, synagogues, and mosques, reflects this confluence of civilizations.

Today, Toledo is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, known for its medieval architecture, El Greco’s artworks, and its enduring spirit of cultural coexistence.

#synagogue #toledospain #spain #mudéjar #architecture #horseshoearch

#museumtreasures #shahnama #firdausi
@ummamuseum #shahnameh

Today, the East Side Gallery stands not only as a historical monument but also as one of the largest open-air art galleries in the world. Each mural carries its own symbolism, often blending satire, protest, and dreams of unity.

Walking along the East Side Gallery is both a powerful reminder of Berlin’s Cold War past and a celebration of its reunification.
If you ever get the chance, don’t miss this open-air gallery—over 1.3 km of murals by artists from around the world, each telling stories of freedom and dreams for a better future.

• #AligarhLocks
• #MadeInAligarh
• #LockCapitalOfIndia
• #AligarhLockIndustry
• #AligarhCraftsmanship
• #AligarhPride
• #IndianLockMakers

In the centre of the back wall of the Diwan-e Aam is a 21 feet wall with 318 panels that depict the famous Orpheus legend.
Orpheus was a Greek prophet, a legendary musician and poet who could charm all living things and even stones. In this panel he is shown playing the lute, while a lion, a leopard, a deer, a dog and a hare sit at his feet, listening in complete rapture. The occurrence of this panel as a backdrop to the Mughal throne is deliberate as it approximates the legendary throne of Solomon, the prophet king and ideal ruler on whom birds and beasts sat in peaceful attendance. [Ebba Koch]
Its 318 panels, said to be the work of European jeweller Austin de Bordeaux, with various exquisite carvings of birds and beasts made in inlay work are placed in a special marble recess that measures 7 yards x 2.5 yards. Its artistry is confounding for the human mind.
Beresford, in his book, The Delhi Guide, describes it before the 1857 Uprising and says it was an 8-feet panel with precious stones also embedded in it.
In September 1857, after the fall of Delhi, many treasures from the Red Fort were looted. This panel was one of them.
It was appropriated by Captain John Jones and sold by him to the British government for 500 pounds. They placed it in the South Kensington Museum.
Sir John Marshall reports in the Archaeological Survey Annual Report 1902–03 that it was hoped that the plaque would be restored in time for the Delhi Durbar (Lord Curzon’s Darbar of 1903), but it arrived too late to be in time for that. It wS installed shortly after the durbar.
He also adds that the panels ‘have now been replaced behind the throne, and many other panels have also been cleaned of the lac with which they were covered, and their mutilated surfaces re-polished.

Photo from the time that there was no plexiglass around it

Excerpt from: “Shahjahanabad: The Living City of Old Delhi”
#ShahjahanabadTheLivingCityofOldDelhi #redfort #shahjahan #mughalarchitecture #orpheus #1857

#travelwithme to Bhangarh

The Bhangarh fort was built by the Kachwaha ruler of Amber, Raja Bhagwant Singh, for his younger son Madho Singh in 1573 AD. Madho Singh’s brother was the celebrated Man Singh, who was Akbar’s general. Madho Singh was succeeded by his son Chatr Singh. It was Chatr Singh’s son Ajab Singh who built the fort of Ajabgarh.

The guide told us of the beautiful princess Ratnavati, who was the daughter of Chatr Singh. She was the jewel of Rajasthan. Ratnavati was much younger than her stepbrother Ajab Singh, and was as universally liked as he was disliked. Tales of her beauty and delightful temperament spread far and wide and she received many marriage proposals. A tantrik priest, who was well versed in black magic, fell in love with her. But knowing that he didn’t stand a chance with the beautiful princess, he tried to cast a spell on her. Seeing the princess’ maid buying perfume for her in the village, he cast a spell on it so that Ratnavati would fall in love with him. Ratnavati came to know of this and threw the bottle. It turned into a boulder and hit the tantrik. He was crushed under its weight, but before he died, he cursed the princess, her family, and the entire village. The next year, a battle was fought between the forces of Bhangarh and Ajabgarh, which led to the death of Ratnavati and most of the army.

The guide solemnly told us that it was due to this curse that no one in the village or fort could be reborn; it is forever condemned to desolation and is inhabited by ghosts. If any villager tries to build a roof, it apparently mysteriously collapses.

The circle symbolises perfection, simplicity, and completeness and thus is the only shape that can symbolise Allah’s magnificence and Oneness.
It’s symmetrical from every direction, representing balance and with no beginning or end, it signifies endless motion, always returning to its starting point.
The circle is a timeless symbol associated with concepts like heaven, infinity, and wholeness, reflecting enduring ideas of holiness, perfection, and eternity in human thought.

Photo: Sheikh Lutfullah’s mosque in Isfahan, taken by me.

As the Prophet’s cousin, son-in-law, and father of the grandsons from whom the Prophet’s line continued, Ali was a member of the Ahl al-Bait and is believed to be the one who inherited the Prophet’s spiritual knowledge, seena dar seena (from my heart to yours). As per Islamic tradition the Prophet said, ‘I am the city of knowledge and Ali is the gate of that city. (Ana madina-tul-ilm wa Aliyun babuha)’ So to enter the city, one has to go through its gate.
In Ali, a man of medium build with piercing eyes, were combined not only mystical knowledge but also chivalry and bravery. The Arabic traditions of futuwwah (chivalry) were very different from its European connotations. After the advent of Islam the word futuwwah meant a code of honourable conduct in the tradition of prophets, saints, and those who are Allah’s beloved.
The noun was fata which meant an ideal, noble, and perfect person, generous to a fault, one ready to give up everything including their life for the sake of their friends, and of course follow the path of Allah. The Prophet was himself a supreme example of futuwwah. The Persian equivalent of this is jawan-mardi (chivalry), and Ali was the epitome of it. Futuwwah is also one of the essential requirements of a Sufi.
Ali – sometimes called Asadullah (Lion of Allah) – was not only brave but possessed exoteric and esoteric knowledge. His sword, known as Zulfiqar (two-edged), is one of the most famous in history; it is also linked to his mystical knowledge, and for Sufis, the two edges are said to metaphorically represent zikr (remembrance of Allah) and fikr (contemplation of Allah).

From: In Search of The Divine
image @metmuseum
“Coffin of Imam ‘Ali”, Folio from a Falnama (The Book of Omens) of Ja’far al-Sadiq

mid-1550s–early 1560s
#ali #hazratali

The wall paintings of Shri Guru Ram Rai Darbar Sahib in Dehradun are a remarkable blend of artistic styles and cultural influences, reflecting the historical and spiritual significance of the site. Located in the heart of Dehradun, this Sikh gurudwara, established in the 17th century by Guru Ram Rai, features murals that adorn its walls, domes, and ceilings, offering a visual narrative of the guru’s life, times, and the rich traditions of the region.
These murals are a fusion of Mughal, Kangra, and Rajasthani painting styles, infused with a distinct Garhwali flavor. They were primarily created by Tulsi Ram Mistri, the chief artisan of the Darbar, whose self-portrait can still be seen near the entrance gate.
#dehradun #ramrai #jhandabazar
#dehradun #jhandamela #gururamraidarbar #gururamrai #jhandabazar

#AlvidaJummah Mubarak
Jummah, or the Friday congregational prayer, is a cornerstone of Islamic worship with profound spiritual and communal significance. It is a weekly obligation for adult Muslim men (and recommended for women in some interpretations), as emphasized in the Quran in Surah Al-Jumu’ah (62:9): “O you who have believed, when the call is made for prayer on Friday, then proceed to the remembrance of Allah and leave trade.” This verse underscores Jummah’s priority, urging Muslims to pause their worldly affairs to focus on worship.
It is prayed together emphasising bonds of brotherhood and egalitarianism.

Alvida Jummah, also known as Jummah tul Wida or the “Farewell Friday,” refers to the last Jummah of Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting and heightened devotion. While it retains the general significance of Jummah, its occurrence during Ramadan—particularly within the last ten days—imbues it with additional spiritual weight.
Ramadan is a sacred time when Muslims fast, pray, and engage in acts of charity to draw closer to Allah. The last ten days are especially blessed, encompassing Laylat al-Qadr (the Night of Power), described in the Quran (Surah Al-Qadr, 97:3) as “better than a thousand months.”
The Farewell Friday means the month of Ramzan is drawing to an end and serves
as a day to assess one’s spiritual progress during the month and seek forgiveness for shortcomings.
It also offers a final chance to maximize good deeds and supplications, especially given the heightened rewards of the last ten days.
And is a time to thank Allah for the month’s blessings and pray for acceptance of one’s efforts.
( Photo by Chattrapal (Shitij) Singh on Pexels.com)

After the delicious dinner, when the ladies were happily sated, Zulaikha presented each lady with a plate of tangerines and knives and once they were busy with peeling and cutting them she called out to Yusuf to enter.
‘Come out and show yourself to them!’ The ladies had heard of Yusuf’s beauty and charismatic appearance but no one was prepared for Husn e Yusuf!
for the man who entered the room. His manliness, innocence and charm flustered the ladies, who became heedless of the knives in their hands and the task at hand, and all of them cut their hands!
There were stunned murmurs. One said, ‘This
is not a mortal being!’
Another whispered in disbelief, ‘This is a noble
angel?
excerpted from
Tales from the Quran and Hadith . You can read the full story there.

Tho there’s nothing in the Quran to prove or disprove their marriage, Zulaikha ‘s love for Yusuf was taken as soul’s quest for God in Sufi tales.
image: Jami’s Haft Awrang
Depicts the marriage of Yusuf and Zulaikha. @NatAsianArt
#sufism
@juggernautbooks
https://amzn.in/d/2zcPqBD