The road unfolded before us like a ribbon, guiding our car through the lush greenery and coconut groves of Kerala. It was the sacred month of Ramadan, and we had embarked on a journey to the enchanting city of Kannur in search of a pious man. The road ahead promised a culturally rich, soul-stirring experience that would leave an indelible mark on our hearts.
We entered the city after a two-hour long drive; the streets bustled with pedestrians, the sound of traffic filled the air, buyers and sellers haggled in the marketplace. Amidst this vibrant chaos, an air of sanctity was palpable; it carried the essence of a bygone era, where the mingling of diverse traditions shaped the city’s identity. Our guide informed us of Kannur’s deep-rooted connections with the Islamic world, which dated back centuries.
Nestled along the coast of the Arabian Sea, Kannur holds a special place in the tapestry of Islamic culture. The arrival of Arab merchants, who had ventured to the Malabar Coast for trade, had a lasting impact on the locals. Legend has it that Islam took root in Kannur even before the arrival of Malik ibn Dinar, who is famously known as the first companion of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ to arrive in India (though this cannot be verified historically). The tales passed down through generations speak of King Cheraman Perumal, ruler of the Chera kingdom, who was drawn to Islam after witnessing the miracle of the split moon. He embraced Islam, took the name Tajuddin, and ventured to Mecca, where he shed his worldly concerns. His story, engraved in verse on a wooden tablet at the Arakkal Palace, is a testament to the city’s historical connection with Islam.
Over the centuries, Kannur flourished as a centre for Islamic scholarship and culture, particularly Sufism. It became a hub of spiritual seekers, earning the moniker ‘Baghdad of India’. One notable figure in Kannur’s Sufi tradition is Ghawth al-A’zam (the Greatest Helper), Shaykh Abdul Qadir Al-Thani, whose presence lingers in the serene village of Puratheel, just a short distance from Kannur city, and whose grave we were destined to visit that day.
After parking our car near Varam Kadavu Bridge, we were drawn to a nearby river, its cool, sparkling waters beckoning us under the scorching summer sun. Seeking respite from the heat, I cupped my hands and splashed the cool water on my face, feeling rejuvenated in both body and soul. My colleague, who had visited Puratheel before, remarked that this river served as a natural border for the village, fortifying the sacred site with its life-giving waters. It was this very river that earned Puratheel the epithet dweep, or ‘island’. The flowing waters represented a boundary that was not only physical, but also spiritual, separating this land from the rest of the outside world.
Standing on the river’s edge, engrossed in its serene beauty, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. At that moment, I understood why Puratheel was revered as a place of spiritual import. It provided a sanctuary, a space where seekers could disconnect from the outside world and embark on a meaningful journey of self-discovery. Even as we reluctantly left the riverbank, the serenity of that moment remained with us, and we cherished this reminder of the intense connection between nature, spirituality, and the pursuit of inner peace.
As we wandered through the village, faint sounds of devotional music played from afar. Our guide, prayer beads in hand, began to narrate the story of Shaykh Abdul Qadir Al-Thani.
There once lived an extraordinary man in Afghanistan by the name of Shaykh Uthman Hamdani. A Persian ruler and descendent of the esteemed first Caliph, Abu Bakr Al-Siddiq, this Sultan of Hamadan left all his riches behind to go on a quest for truth. He wandered tirelessly across distant lands, his footsteps guided only by his faith and a thirst for spiritual knowledge.
Shaykh Uthman eventually arrived in Valapattanam, a tranquil village in the northern province of Kerala. One night, during his stay in the village, he experienced a vision. This vision promised him that, should he marry on that very night, he would sire a miraculous child. A year later, in the nearby kingdom of Chirakkal, royal astrologers uncovered a celestial secret. They revealed to their king that a child had been born in the Valapattanam province — a child destined to become the greatest of all miraculous beings. They further prophesied that if the King provided protection and support to this child, his kingdom would prosper.
Intrigued by this prophecy, the King of Chirakkal set out to meet the newborn child, who had been named Abdul Qadir. Recognising the infant’s extraordinary potential, the King assumed responsibility for his upbringing, ensuring that he grew into a virtuous and revered figure. As such, the child was brought to the King’s palace at the tender age of five or six, where he continued his spiritual journey surrounded by the kingdom’s grandeur. His princely childhood abruptly ended at the age of sixteen, when his fortuitous encounter with four strangers changed the course of his life forever.
The strangers had arrived at his family home in a famished state while Abdul Qadir was away at the palace. With his mother’s permission, they slaughtered cattle she had originally set aside for her son, and chopped down a jackfruit tree in front of the house. They cooked their meal, ate, and saved some of the food to be given to Abdul Qadir when he returned. As the strangers departed, the family were astonished to find that both the cattle and jackfruit tree had been miraculously restored to their original state. When Abdul Qadir eventually came home, his mother informed him of their unusual visitors. Realising that these were no ordinary beings, he set off to find them, eventually encountering four people from Bhatkal, Karnataka. Amongst them was the distinguished Sufi shaykh, Mahmoud Al Khabooshani, who bestowed Abdul Qadir with an ijaza in the Suhrawardi tariqa. This was a licence that would formally permit him to instruct his own disciples in the teachings and practices of the Suhrawardi Sufi order.
Inspired, Shaykh Abdul Qadir abandoned all material pursuits and devoted himself to worship. When the King grew concerned at the Shaykh’s sudden withdrawal from the palace and other worldly affairs, the Shaykh expressed his desire to continue this path, furthermore requesting that the King grant him a portion of the land to be reserved for regular worship and seclusion. The King assented, and named this land ‘Puratheel’. There, the Shaykh built a mosque and established a settlement, fostering a culture of spiritual seclusion and growth. He eventually became known as Abdul Qadir Al-Thani (‘the Second’), as people reverentially associated him with Ghawth al-A’zam Abdul-Qadir Al-Jilani, esteemed scholar and saint of Baghdad.
Despite my efforts, I found little information about Abdul Qadir Al-Thani in my research. Even in Malayalam, the native language of Kerala, references were scarce. Only in Arabic did I find a single work, entitled The Holy Maulid, by Shaykh Valappil Abdul Azeez Musliyar. Shaykh Abdul Qadir’s obscurity in the digital realm was, to say the least, disappointing. However, as I stepped into the sacred sanctuary of Puratheel, I was astounded to see its pathways abound with visitors, their footfall echoing with purpose and a yearning for the blessings of a shaykh unknown to Allama Google. This was a realm beyond the age of digital information, where human souls longed for a connection unencumbered by the pretensions of media and search engine rankings. I felt an enigmatic current that drew people to a shaykh who, while evading fame and renown in written histories, had claimed his place in living hearts and memories.
With the setting sun, a melodious call to prayer echoed through the misty valleys, summoning the faithful to gather in the sanctum of the mosque. Inside, the golden glow of flickering lanterns danced across the walls, and the congregation united in prayer between them. The rhythmic recitation of sacred Qur’anic verses rose and fell, followed by murmured supplications emanating from each devotee’s lips.
After the Maghrib (sunset) prayer, a serene calm enveloped the community. We had just shared an Iftar meal to end the day’s fast, replenishing both body and soul with food and prayer. However, the night was far from over. At 12.30am, as moonlight filtered through the mosque’s stained glass windows, bathing the prayer hall in its soft glow, the call to prayer would recommence. As the rest of the world slept on, these worshippers would perform the Taraweeh prayer until 2am, a night prayer reserved for the blessed month of Ramadan, followed by more supererogatory prayers and whispered invocations hoping to forge a bond between this earthly realm and the Divine.
Though Muslims the world over perform these rites every Ramadan, Puratheel has its own unique customs. The Qunut, a special supplication, is recited with every prayer except Maghrib. On Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays after Maghrib, devotees gather for a dhikr halaqa, or gathering of remembrance, chanting the Divine’s sacred names in melodious union. After the Jumu’ah (Friday) prayers, which are led by a descendent of Abdul Qadir Al-Thani, a ritual of repentance takes place; the Shaykh recites words of istighfar, invocations that seek Divine mercy and forgiveness. Believers repeat the Shaykh’s istighfar, and disclose their struggles and shortcomings to a spiritual mentor as a means of guidance, purification, and self-reflection.
As Ramadan nears its end, the anticipation of seeking Allah’s blessing in the final ten nights of the Sacred Month swells, culminating in the sought after ‘Night of Power’, or Lailat ul Qadr. This is the twenty-seventh night of Ramadan, where in Puratheel, the adhan (call to prayer) resounds seven times to herald the Night of Power’s arrival. The mosque transforms into a radiant beacon, drawing the servants of Allah from near and far.
When the final sun sets on Ramadan, and Eid ushers in the Sacred Month’s end, the Isha (evening) prayer is delayed until 2am to encourage the faithful to immerse themselves in worship until dawn. Although these customs may seem arduous to some, they are embraced with an unwavering devotion in Puratheel, keeping the legacy of the Shaykh alive. In our age of information and instant gratification, Puratheel reminds us that there are still enigmas to unravel, hidden domains waiting to be explored, and extraordinary souls whose influence transcend the virtual realm. True enchantment lies not in its digital presence but in the transformative encounters that await those who embark on this journey with an open heart and a yearning for the Divine.
Before our trip came to its end, our guide led us inside the mausoleum that housed Shaykh Abdul Qadir Al-Thani’s tomb, where he rested adorned in royal green clothing. Mausoleums of his children, grandchildren, other family members, and companions abound, both in Puratheel and all throughout India.
As we left Puratheel, a sense of tranquillity washed over me, dispelling, for the moment at least, all of life’s uncertainties. I felt that an inner peace had permeated my being, reminding me that we are never truly alone. For a moment, the world stood still and breathless, before exhaling a gentle breeze that brushed against me. I felt tears spring to my eyes, and wondered if nature possessed its own soul.
I left marvelling at the interconnectedness of the human spirit and the natural world. With the wind divulging its secrets and the land preserving ancestral tales, our souls are inextricably tied to that of nature’s. Through timeless bonds, we find solace, guidance, and an earnest understanding of our place in the cosmos. I journeyed forward, guided by whispers of the unseen, embracing the beauty and mystery bestowed upon us by nature.
Edited by Asma
INDIA
