Book Translations from Urdu to English

The Shortcut to Heaven (Sasti Janat) – Shaykh Zulfiqar Ahmed Naqshbandi

Prevention from Sins (Gunaho say Kaisay Bachay) – Shaykh Zulfiqar Ahmed Naqshbandi

From London to Haram and Pakistan (London say diyare Haram aur Pakistan) – Sikandar Khan

Privileged Honor of Sacred Abodes (Saadat-e-Darayn) – Mian Atta-ur-Rehman

Grandeur of the Beloved (PBUH) (Shaane Habeeb) – Alhaaj Muhammad Rahatullah Khan

Truth in Every Word (Harf Harf Haqeeqat) – Wasif Ali Wasif

Heart, River, Ocean (Dil Darya Samandar) – Wasif Ali Wasif

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Competition (Muqabla) – Translation of an Essay by Wasif Ali Wasif

Man considers competing with man the ladder of success and progress. He imagines that life means contending with time, resisting the headwinds, and tearing down the walls that block the way. Some people think:

“Life is besieged by the cruelties of fate. Man must cross the cycle of day and night with courage. He is a traveler, and distance itself stands as a wall before him. He must carve his way through the crowds of humanity. He must wrestle with the tyranny of nature. He must conquer dangerous peaks, steep and treacherous mountains. Man must contend with everything — with every season, every person, every obstacle, every storm. His life is nothing but trial upon trial, an era of difficulty, a chain of grief and sighs. Life is a severe test, an arduous journey, a barren desert. Man is like a frail boat left at the mercy of raging waves. He has come into this world only to clash with stones like brittle glass, to take shelter beneath a merciless sky, making endurance his shield, his passion his sword, and his courage his only support. In the end, he must defeat this enemy called time. He has been created only for effort, for constant struggle, for ceaseless competition. His way is blocked by his own inadequacy. He must guard himself against man, for man devours man, exploits man, robs him of his wealth, destroys his peace, tramples his honor, turns him into a beast. Salvation from man lies only in competition. Without it, man cannot become man. He cannot progress, cannot be civilized, cannot be refined, cannot be anything.”

This entire notion of competition has been fed to man only to deprive him of his higher spiritual values. Whether it is class rivalry or international rivalry, it is nothing but a soulless, materialistic, and unnatural plague. Life is not a competition. Life is simply life — a gift, a favor, a blessing, a grace for which gratitude is due.

History is not only a record of conquests and defeats, of crimes and punishments. It is also a story of benefactors. The competitor always wants to take, but the benefactor always wants to give. Kings fought their rivalries, and in the end left behind ruins as monuments of their vanity. Those once hailed as “shadows of God” and “protectors of the world” proved mortal and perished.

Competition sows hatred among human beings. Its ultimate form is war — destruction and ruin. The rulers who sat on thrones of skulls, issuing commands, are remembered only with loathing. Those who spilled rivers of human blood were finally swept away in those very rivers. Competition desires victory for oneself and defeat for others — and therein lies its poison.

Those who call life a ceaseless battle, who reduce it to mere struggle, have twisted its meaning. They quarrel with everyone, argue at every turn, criticize at every chance, search endlessly for faults, rage against every system, live in constant suspicion, and spend their days tearing others down. They are displeased with their parents, resentful of their children, weary of their own existence, hostile to others. They call life a burden, fate a stone. They see only oppression and exploitation. They live in perpetual agony, call love foolishness, and from the lofty tower of their self-made wisdom, they mock all others as crawling insects. Their temperament becomes one of constant unrest.

But if we separate life from this foolish quarrelsomeness, we see it for what it truly is — a gift, a grace, a fragrant flower, a river flowing with purity, watering everything in its path. Life is blessing upon blessing, cooperation upon cooperation, barakah upon barakah.

What has happened to man? What ailment has overtaken this healer, this physician of the world? His desire for immortality has turned life into torment. In the pursuit of living, he is dying. In scaring everything else, he himself has become frightened. Imaginary alarms echo within him. Health is trapped in sickness, sickness in the torture of doctors. The traveler trembles before the thief. Fear of the unexpected gnaws at him.

Today’s man has lost certainty. His faith is gone. He hungers for wealth, yet dreads poverty. He despises the past, distrusts the present, and fears the future. He has been trained for competition, taught to glorify it, raised to worship it — and in this education, his noblest qualities have withered.

Unless man reforms his belief, he will continue to wander, colliding endlessly, breaking himself against life, quarrelling with existence until his final breath. And then — all competitions, all victories, all medals, all certificates, all fortunes — will remain behind, useless. He will leave the world, taking nothing. Those who saw life only as storms against lamps never really saw life. They were blind, though they had eyes.

The storm comes, the bird’s nest is blown away. Yet at dawn, the same bird sings hymns of gratitude. She is not worried about yesterday’s calamity. She is pure thankfulness, pure song.

Man does not reflect on what his Maker made him, and how. He does not reflect on his vision, that gift of sight which was meant to behold beauty and color. Instead, he has turned himself into one with a crooked gaze, seeking flaws rather than wonders — all because he was taught competition. Deprived of reflection and contemplation, he is left with nothing but rivalry, ignorance, and folly.

Seeking safety, he ends up unsafe. He thinks the pistol will protect his life, but spends his life protecting the pistol. Who guards whom, he does not know. He hoards wealth to escape poverty but refuses to spend it — lest he become poor. Thus he lives a beggarly life amidst riches, and dies in the same poverty he feared. He fights poverty, yet lives and dies in it. He makes himself his own rival — and destroys himself.

He desires peace, yet prepares for war. War for the sake of peace — the strange miracle of competition. He desires progress, builds factories and houses, but spends every moment competing with moments, only to leave it all behind for a dark grave of clay.

He celebrates great days, recounts old battles — Waterloo, Panipat, Ibn Qasim, Ghaznavi, Somnath. He lights new lamps for old victories, commemorates shrines with new festivals, yet his heart remains full of old darkness. He forgets that God also gave him reason. That treasure is lost. He remembers only the contest — drum against drum, sound against sound — until he is drowned in the noise and forgets the truth itself.

If belief is not reformed, rivalry will remain endless — thought against delusion, desire against truth, dream against reality, religion against necessity, the self against the universe, politics against corruption.

Belief reforms when man accepts three truths decreed by the Giver of Life:

1. The span of life is fixed. No accident can shorten it before its time, and no precaution can prolong it after its time. When the end is death, then what is all this struggle for?
2. Honor and disgrace are not earned by effort but decreed by destiny. The particle becomes the sun at its appointed hour, and the sun is eclipsed at its appointed time. Fame and infamy are born with man. What then is left to compete for?
3. Provision is allotted. Wealth, breath, sight, reason, faith — all are determined. No negligence can undo prosperity, no effort can undo decree. Rivalry is a delusion.

Therefore, O people of wisdom! Life is a brief stay, a limited term. Do not waste it in pointless races. This gift of love is only for love. Do not destroy it in hatreds and quarrels. This is the time to recognize and obey the Creator, not to waste in rivalry with His creation. This is the moment for service and sacrifice, not ruin. Do not squander this short provision in the vain desire for a godless way of life. Stretch yourself only as far as you can still return. Gather only as much as you can still leave behind. Peace of heart will never come from luxuries, but from the reformation of faith.

Progress is not a race led by greed and followed by fear. Progress is pausing, seeing, and savoring. It is not about fine possessions but fine perceptions, not about grand houses but about refined dwellers. And dwellers are human beings — who will never find peace except in nearness to their Creator.

Objects draw us away from people, and in competing we drift away even from ourselves. And when we are no longer ourselves, then what is left to gain from all this competition?

To buy the translated books, contact the author: aadil.far@gmail.com