Taqwā

Taqwā is a spiritual reality. Meanings are hidden from sight; they are not usually present in the minds of people, and often, external appearances and rituals are mistakenly taken to be substitutes for them. This is precisely the injustice that has been done to taqwā—and it is a most painful one. Outward forms and styles have come to be regarded as taqwā, while in truth they are nothing more than superficial displays. It is in reference to this that the Prophet صلى الله عليه وسلم pointed to his noble chest and said: “Taqwā is here.” That is, taqwā is not something visible; it resides in the inner chambers of the heart.

In this article, I will attempt to clarify the reality of taqwā. For ease of explanation, it is divided into two parts: The Outward Appearances of Taqwā and The Reality of Taqwā.

The Outward Appearances of Taqwā:
Wearing a kurta, pyjama, or sherwani is not taqwā. Donning Turkish garments, Iranian cloaks, or the Arab thawb is not taqwā. Sitting on coarse mats is not taqwā. Wearing the clothing of any specific ethnic group is not taqwā. It is reported in Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī that some of the noble Ṣaḥābah (may Allah be pleased with them) wore loincloths. According to Imām Mālik, Imām al-Bukhārī, and a large number of scholars, covering the thighs is not even obligatory. Many of those who were regarded as exemplars of taqwā would suffice with the minimum requirement of covering the ʿawrah.

Wearing a turban or a cap is not taqwā. The style of one’s hair has no bearing on taqwā either. Some let their hair grow long and tied, while others shave it or adopt a dervish-like appearance. There have existed individuals in this world who became known by the titles gesū darāz (long-haired). None of these hairstyles have any intrinsic connection to nearness to Allah. Even ascetic garb and patched cloaks are not taqwā.

As Shaykh Shīrāzī wisely said:

> What use is the patched cloak, the woollen wrap, or the monk’s robe?
Rid yourself of all blameworthy deeds.
You do not need a velvet cap to be pious.
Live like a dervish, even if your cap is of Tatar design.

Some people consider eating on the ground a sign of taqwā, though they have in front of them the most luxurious foods, completely alien to the way of the Prophets. Others eat simple meals, but do so on tables and chairs. Each group seeks to outdo the other in claims of taqwā, but none of these practices in themselves are taqwā.

There are also those who confine taqwā to their own school or methodology. According to them, whoever wears their particular cap is a person of taqwā; whoever studies the sayings of their elders is pious. The markets of the Indian subcontinent are now flooded with caps of all colours and collections of sayings of various saints, sold with great vigour. Some pride themselves on khilāfah, spiritual pledges (bayʿah), and chains of authorisation. Others recite the names of their spiritual orders endlessly. All of this is superficialism. The majority among such groups are hypocrites and pretenders. This is why the pious ʿĀlim of Allahabad, Mawlānā Shāh Wasīyullāh Fathpūrī (raḥimahu Allāh), would often focus his sermons on hypocrisy and its traits.

There are countless others who spend their lives in madrasahs or khānqāhs, thinking that everything they do is a sign of taqwā. Many among them are so arrogant, so self-deluded, so convinced of their superiority, so irritable and harmful to others, that all of creation—earth and sky—seeks refuge from them. It is for such people that Amīr Khusrau (rahimahu Allāh) remarked: “Though they drink wine in secret…” These individuals love the people of the world and despise the poor and needy. Yet the very saints whose names they invoke would proclaim, both in word and spirit:

> We do not take pride in the symbols of poverty and contentment.
Tell the lord of wealth: sustenance is already apportioned.

The Reality of Taqwā:
The taqwā commanded in the Book of Allah, and which the Prophets and Messengers upheld most rigorously, has three essential pillars: Fear of Allah (khawf), Vigilance (murāqabah), and Avoidance of Sin (ijtināb al-maʿāṣī).

Foremost among these is khawf Allāh—the fear of Allah. This is the root of all good. It is the blessed tree from which all virtuous fruits grow. This fear can exist in men and women, in the rich and the poor, in Arabs and non-Arabs, in the learned and the unlearned, in students of madrasahs and in university graduates. It is absolutely true that where there is knowledge (maʿrifah), there will be fear. The greater one’s knowledge of Allah’s Names and Attributes, the deeper their fear of Him.

Allah says: “Indeed, those who truly fear Allah among His servants are the scholars.”
And the Messenger of Allah صلى الله عليه وسلم said: “I am the one among you with the most knowledge of Allah, and the one who fears Him the most.”

These are the chosen servants of Allah whose inner reality is not dependent on outer show.

> One glance from the cupbearer overturned the gathering,
The wine came later—first, all were made intoxicated.

The second pillar is murāqabah—vigilant awareness. This means that a person, no matter where they are, constantly sees Allah before them, and is firmly grounded in the conviction that they are never outside His gaze. They are moved to restlessness by the mere mention of His Name. Whether in a crowd or in solitude, they witness their Lord at all times:

> Wherever I turned, I saw His light,
Wherever I looked, it was His radiant face.

The third pillar is ijtināb al-maʿāṣī—abstaining from sins. This is the essence of fear and vigilance. If a person does not refrain from sin, then neither fear nor vigilance have truly taken root.

Taqwā has many levels. When a person is granted consistency in all three traits, even to a modest degree, such a person is called muttaqī—one who has taqwā. The knowledge of who truly possesses this station is known only to Allah. As for people, they may judge based on signs and appearances, and assume the best.

A person of taqwā is devoted to worship, distant from sin, free from rancour and envy, cheerful in disposition, gentle and humble with others. The people of taqwā say—and rightfully so:

> Seated in the dust, yet of the rank of Sulaymān,
To wear a king’s crown would be our shame.
For years I’ve worn this garment,
Yet my garment is nothing but my nakedness.

Disclaimer: This article was translated by AI. Original post: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/6512