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| File Phote Shiekh Idrees Sahb |
بچھڑا کچھ اس ادا سے کہ رت ہی بدل گئی
اک شخص سارے شہر کو ویران کر گیا 💔
آہ! شیخ الحدیث حضرت مولانا محمد ادریس صاحب ترنگزئی شہید۔۔۔ 😭
دل بہت اداس، بوجھل اور ضمیر ملامت کر رہا ہے۔ بدقسمتی کی انتہا دیکھیے کہ رات کو کام سے دیر سے آنے، پھر موبائل دیکھتے رہنے اور صبح دیر تک سونے کی غفلت کی وجہ سے کل میں اتنے بڑے عالم دین کے جنازے میں شریک ہونے سے محروم رہ گیا۔ ہائے میری قسمت۔
یہ پچھتاوا اس لیے بھی زیادہ تکلیف دہ ہے کیونکہ اس سے پہلے میں اپنے پیر و مرشد، پیر سباق پیر صاحب کے جنازے میں بھی شریک نہیں ہو سکا تھا۔ کل مولانا صاحب کے جنازے کی اس محرومی نے میرے اس پرانے زخم کو دوبارہ ہرا کر دیا ہے اور پچھتاوے کے اس بوجھ کو مزید بڑھا دیا ہے۔ یہ حسرت شاید زندگی بھر دل سے نہ نکلے۔
حسرتوں کے اس ہجوم میں اب بس یادیں ہی باقی ہیں۔ ایک وہ دور تھا جب ہم اسکول کی عمر میں اپنے دوستوں کے ساتھ اپنے گاؤں سے دور ترنگزئی میں جمعہ کے دن مولانا صاحب کا نورانی بیان سننے جایا کرتے تھے۔ہمارے پورے گاؤں میں جہاں بھی مولانا صاحب کسی محفل میلاد میں آکر بیان کرتے تھے تو ہم چند دوست وہاں پہنچ جاتے تھے۔ انداز بیان ایسا کہ کبھی سنتے ہوئے بوریت محسوس ہی نہیں ہوئی تھی۔ علم کا اک خزانہ تھا انداز بیان ہمیشہ مشفقانہ۔ اللہ پاک نے وہ وقت بھی دکھایا جب ان کی بیٹھک میں ان کے بالکل سامنے بیٹھنے اور فیض حاصل کرنے کی سعادت ملی۔
جہاں تک مجھے یاد ہے، آخری بار میں نے شیخ صاحب کا بیان بھی اپنے پیر و مرشد پیر سباق پیر صاحب کی مسجد میں ان کے بالکل سامنے بیٹھ کر سنا تھا۔ کیا خوبصورت دن تھے وہ۔
پھر کاروبارِ زندگی کی ایسی مصروفیات بڑھیں کہ شیخ صاحب کے سامنے بیٹھ کر براہِ راست سننے کا موقع تو دوبارہ نہ مل سکا، لیکن اکثر آن لائن ان کے بیانات سن کر میں ماضی کی ان خوبصورت یادوں میں کھو جاتا تھا۔
کل علم و روحانیت کا وہ عظیم سایہ ہم سے چھن گیا ہے۔ اللہ پاک ہمارے حال پر رحم فرمائے اور شیخ صاحب سمیت ہمارے تمام
اکابرین کو جنت الفردوس میں اعلیٰ مقام عطا فرمائے۔ (آمین)
The Weight of a Silent Pulpit: Reflections on the Legacy of Sheikh Muhammad Idrees Sahb
There is a specific, piercing grief that accompanies the realization that a door has closed forever before we could offer a final tribute. It is the ache of the missed goodbye—a regret that stems not from a lack of love, but from the quiet erosion of priority that defines modern life. For many of us, the news of the martyrdom of Sheikh-ul-Hadith Hazrat Maulana Muhammad Idrees Sahb (Shaheed) of Turangzai brought not just a sense of communal loss, but a deep, stinging personal reproach.
In an era governed by digital distractions, where the hypnotic, late-night glow of a smartphone screen often replaces the discipline of the morning, it is easy to succumb to the "negligence of the hour." To miss the funeral of a figure who served as a spiritual North Star because of the mundane cycle of late-night work and the resulting heavy sleep of dawn is a burden of conscience that lingers. It is a reminder that while our mentors may seem like permanent fixtures in our lives, their physical presence is a fleeting grace, easily lost to the inertia of our daily habits.
Charisma Born of Compassion, Not Just Command
بچھڑا کچھ اس ادا سے کہ رت ہی بدل گئی اک شخص سارے شہر کو ویران کر گیا
He departed in such a way that the very season changed / One person has left the entire city desolate.
The legacy of Sheikh Muhammad Idrees Shaheed was not merely built upon the staggering depth of his academic credentials, but upon the mushfiqana (affectionate) manner with which he delivered his message. To sit in his presence was to witness a rare synthesis of authority and accessibility. He possessed a vast treasury of knowledge, yet he held his audience with a warmth that ensured boredom never took root, even when grappling with the most complex scholarship.
True scholarship can often feel rigid or distant, yet the Sheikh’s teaching style was rooted in a profound kindness. This approach suggested that the primary goal of a spiritual leader is not just to instruct the mind, but to embrace the seeker. By prioritizing a compassionate delivery over a stern command, he transformed theological insights into something palatable and life-giving, proving that the most enduring authority is that which is softened by love.
The Magnetic Pull of Spiritual Truth
The true impact of a teacher is often best measured by the distance their students are willing to travel to reach them. Looking back, I recall the devotion of our school years, when my friends and I would intentionally journey from our own village to Turangzai just to hear the Sheikh's Friday sermons. We were drawn not by obligation, but by the magnetic pull of a voice that spoke with genuine spiritual clarity.
This "effort as a measure of value" speaks to the profound influence the Sheikh exerted over the youth. Whether it was a formal sermon or a gathering of Mahfil-e-Milad, his presence acted as a beacon. We sought him out because his words offered a sense of truth that was palpable, creating a shared history of seeking wisdom that transcended the simple geography of our upbringing.
The Fragility of Living Presence in a Digital Age
There is a poignant contrast between the early years of the Sheikh's ministry and the modern era. Many of us carry the cherished memory of sitting "directly in front" of him, absorbing his presence in the physical intimacy of a mosque or a private sitting room. However, as the karobar-e-zindagi—the relentless business and engagements of adult life—took hold, that physical proximity was often traded for the convenience of listening online.
While digital access is a blessing that allows sacred knowledge to bypass the barriers of distance, it also creates a dangerous, false sense of security. We convince ourselves that because we can summon a voice through a speaker at any hour, the person behind that voice will always be there. This shift from physical mentorship to digital consumption can lead us to overlook the importance of physical milestones. The convenience of a recording can never replace the weight of a living presence, a reality that only becomes clear when that presence is irrevocably withdrawn.
The Compounding Nature of Grief
Grief is rarely an isolated event; it is a compounding force that pulls from the past. The loss of Sheikh Muhammad Idrees Shaheed has reopened an old, unhealed wound: the memory of missing the final farewell of my own guide, Pir Sabaq Pir Sahb. To lose a second mentor in a similar state of absence feels like a doubling of the heart's burden, a debt of gratitude that can now never be paid in person.
In our spiritual tradition, these figures represent a lineage of guidance—they are the great trees in a forest whose canopy provides a protective shadow over the community. My last memory of the Sheikh is a beautiful, full-circle moment: sitting directly in front of him as he delivered a sermon at the mosque of Pir Sabaq Pir Sahb. Now, with both of these giants gone, the world feels suddenly exposed and desolate. When such a "great shadow" is removed, the community is left to navigate the heat of the world without the shelter it had grown accustomed to.
Conclusion: A Forward-Looking Prayer for Wisdom
Sheikh Muhammad Idrees Shaheed leaves behind a void that reflects the immense scale of his influence. He was a pillar of knowledge whose departure has left the "city desolate," not just in a physical sense, but in the spiritual landscape of our lives. His life serves as a final, silent lesson on the delicate balance we must maintain between the relentless busyness of our careers and the people who shape our souls.
As we reflect on this loss, we are forced to confront our own priorities. We must ask ourselves how we value the living treasures in our midst before they become memories, and how we might honor a legacy of compassion in an increasingly rigid world.
When the voices that guided our youth go silent, what responsibility do we carry to ensure their treasury of knowledge doesn't vanish with them?
