Who are you? The ??????? Chishtiya Sufi

As the evening sun started to set, Ruhani finished her chores with gentle care, her heart already looking forward to the peaceful moments ahead. The house, once full of noise, now became quiet. She lit a small incense stick, its sweet-smelling smoke rising like her silent prayers. It was time for dhikr.

Sitting on the floor, Ruhani began her recitation, the rhythm of her voice blending with the distant sounds of the city. With each soft whisper of the sacred names, she felt the day’s worries fade away, replaced by a calm feeling that flowed through her like a gentle stream. This nightly ritual was more than just a routine; it was her way of reconnecting with the divine after a busy day.

But dawn held a different kind of magic for Ruhani. Every morning, she would wake up before the first light and quietly leave her home while it was still dark. The walk to Harminder Sahib was something she never missed. As she walked, the cool morning air touched her skin, and the quiet streets were only broken by the occasional chirping of birds. The city, still half-asleep, seemed to be waiting for the new day.

When she reached the temple, Ruhani’s heart filled with joy at the sight of the golden domes, softly glowing in the early light. The sound of kirtan welcomed her, a melody that seemed to come from the heavens. She would sit quietly, watching the temple’s caretakers as they carefully cleaned the marble floors. To Ruhani, this simple act was like life itself—every day a chance to clean, refresh, and get ready for the blessings that were coming.

As the sun fully rose, lighting up the temple, Ruhani would take a deep breath, enjoying the fresh scent of the clean marble and the flowers in the temple. She would then go to the langar hall, where she spent some time serving food to others. The act of giving, of feeding those who needed it, made her feel deeply connected to her purpose. It was here, in this selfless service, that she felt closest to the divine. Each smile she received was a reminder of how we are all connected.

Evening brought a different kind of peace. After a day of service and quiet reflection, Ruhani would return home, her soul refreshed yet longing for the comfort of her closest companions—the fakirs. As the sky turned colors of orange and purple, she would sit with them in the courtyard, where the smell of jasmine filled the air. The fakirs, with their calm presence, were her spiritual family, each one holding stories of devotion and wisdom.

One evening, something special was about to happen—a lunar eclipse, where the moon would turn a deep shade of red. As the first shadow began to cover the moon, Ruhani and the fakirs watched in silence, their breaths matching the rhythm of the universe. In that moment, as the earth, sun, and moon lined up, Ruhani felt a deep connection, not just to the stars, but to the very heart of existence. It was as if the universe itself was joining them in their silent dhikr.

Later that night, with the eclipse still fresh in her mind, Ruhani rested her head on the shoulder of one of the fakirs. The words they didn’t say carried the weight of many conversations. In their shared silence, they expressed their love for the divine, their gratitude for each other, and their acceptance of life’s mysteries. The night wrapped around them, and in that quiet, Ruhani found the deepest connection of all—one that went beyond words, time, and space.

Each day in Ruhani’s life was made up of these events—morning walks to the temple, acts of service, and quiet times with her spiritual family. These moments were not just things that happened; they were the heart of her life, tying her to the divine and the world around her. And in that unspoken bond, Ruhani found the true meaning of connection, one that filled her heart and brought peace to her soul.