arachi’s premiere theatre and music institution, the National Academy of Performing Arts (NAPA), treaded unchartered waters with its NAPA Talks initiative centred around an endeavour to initiate discourse on some rarely talked about subjects. Napa Talks cover a wide variety of topics, pertaining to arts, social issues and health, with a young audience in mind.

Following this vision of disrupting taboos and breaking barriers, the Academy started off with An Evening with Rumi and Shams. The conversation was centred on the Persian poet and sufi mystic Jalaluddin Rumi, more popularly known as Mevlana Rumi. What I was more interested in was the poetic rendition of his Masnavi. It enthralled the diverse audience.

With a welcome address by the CEO, Junaid Zuberi, the evening began with one of my favourite lines by Amir Khusro:

Darya prem ka, ulti wa ki dhaar,

Jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar

The Academy had invited Farrokh Nizami, an ardent sufi. I expected the talk to be interspersed with rich Persian and was pleasantly surprised to learn that the modality was Urdu. Zahra Sabri, a faculty member at the Institute of Business Administration, moderated the talk. With historical and linguistic background, she introduced Nizami as a woman of Persian origin who had been brought up in Pakistan.

Nizami emphasised the importance of learning the Persian language. She said that it was imperative for both the young and the old to be familiar with the life and works of Rumi. She said that although Rumi belonged to the East, most of us were not as thoroughly acquainted with him as some people in the West. She said that understanding Rumi’s work would enrich the Urdu language, which took birth from Persian itself.

Relaying a personal anecdote, Nizami mentioned that her mother made it a point to always speak to her in Persian, while her father spoke in English. Among themselves, the two conversed in Urdu. This allowed her to perfect all three languages in her childhood. This enabled her to dive into the vast ocean of Persian literature at night. She said Rumi, Hafiz and Saadi were her favourites, although she during the day belonged to the corporate world of furniture design.

What set the talk apart from other Rumi talks that I have attended online, was Nizami’s personal connection with the poet. A testament to this was how she differentiated the kalam of other sufi poets. For instance, while the kalam of most sufis begin with holy verses or phrases, Rumi’s work begins with bishno (listen).

What followed was an interesting narration of Rumi’s life and works – his separation from land, people and origins. The poet realised that people comprehend what they are told in different ways depending on their individual perspectives. That was why he allowed people of all kinds in his madrassah (seminary). This focus on inclusivity and pluralism struck me as phenomenal.

When Burhanuddin, Rumi’s mentor, passed away, the latter took over the podium as an orthodox from the Hanafi school of fiqh. What struck me was a tale where Nizami described the encounter between Shams Tabrez, a malang (wanderer), and Rumi, seen as a turning point in the latter’s life. This was not a mere meeting between two people. It was a meeting of souls, minds and hearts. Shams gave everything away to enlighten Rumi. “During those times, the male guests were never allowed to stay in the house. They were invited, and hosted graciously, but never allowed to stay. Shams was an outlier who was given a room in andaroon (the interior) of Rumi’s house.” How subtly this translates into a special place in Rumi’s heart is magical and fulfilling.

Had Shams not crossed paths with Rumi, Rumi would not be the mystic we know today. The madrassah was agitated and ousted Shams who then went to Tabrez. That was when Rumi plunged into a state of junoon. Once hearing a zarkoob (a goldsmith) hammering the metal, Rumi began to swirl to the beat and recited some verses. Eventually the whirling dervishes became the tariqa of samaa (order of the day). Music also became important to several sufi orders. When Tabrez returned, Rumi was not the same person any longer. The disciple’s cup had brimmed over.

The speaker said the Masnavi was based entirely on lessons derived from Quran and Hadith. Nizami said that while English translations allowed one to understand Rumi’s concepts, they did not fully convey the depth of emotion in the Persian original. She mentioned the works of Iqbal and Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai which are heavily inspired by the works and ideas of Rumi. “Why, then, are we not looking at our inner selves – the khudi that Iqbal shed light on – to find the Divine. It is within us,” The Rumi treasure trove belongs to us. It is ours to own. Why have we moved away from this asset that originated from our roots?” she asked. Overall, the discussion was as enlightening as it was thought-provoking. I am rooting for more such conversations at NAPA Talks.

The reviewer is a Karachi-based writer and tweets @sarashraf