Inna Lillahi Wa Inna Ilayhi Raji’oun (إِنَّا لِلَّهِ وَإِنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ)

Indeed, we belong to Allah, and indeed, to Him we will return.

The Quran reminds us of our return to the Divine, and so too does the Bhagavad Gita:

Bhagavad Gita 2.27:

"Jatasyahi dhruvo mrityur dhruvam janma mrtasya cha, Tasmad apariharye'rthe na tvam shochitum arhasi."

Translation: "For one who is born, death is certain; and for one who dies, birth is certain. Therefore, you should not lament over the inevitable."

Yesterday, I was once again confronted with this painful truth - I physically lost my Imam, my spiritual father, the guiding light of my life. His presence shaped my faith, his wisdom guided my path, and his love provided me with unwavering strength.

My love for Mowla Bapa began at a very young age. I remember my Mama (paternal grandmother) speaking of him in such an endearing way. I used to cry in frustration because I wanted to be physically around him. I didn’t understand the concept of a spiritual father versus a physical father. If his love for me was eternal, why couldn’t I be in his presence?

As I grew, so did my longing. I lived in Lilongwe, Malawi, a town and country where we were the only Ismaili family. There was no congregation, no community. We were outcasts in a land of Christians, Hindus, and Sunni Muslims. I heard stories from my parents and grandparents about how colorful their childhoods had been in the community of the Imam. My love for him grew through our Friday night prayers at home, morning meditations, Mama’s stories, her explanations of ginans (hymns), and listening to the Imam’s voice on recorded tapes. His voice - so majestic - would calm me instantly. I felt immensely loved every time I heard him say, ‘Kanavadan - you are always in my heart, thoughts, and prayers.’

In 1978, on our first trip to Canada, I learned that Mowla Bapa had granted the Toronto Jamat a visit. My heart broke when I found out that we had missed his visit by mere weeks. I felt forsaken, disappointed, - why did my cousins get to see him, and I didn’t?

In 1982, I finally had the opportunity to visit Mowla Bapa in Tanzania. I was elated. I asked my Mama if he would recognize me. That was when she introduced me to the concept of the soul. Her words in Gujarati translated to, ‘He won’t see you physically; he sees your soul.’

The first time I met him in person was in July 1992 in Vancouver, Canada. I had written him a note, pouring out all my woes as a 19-year-old. I remember his large hands taking my note and placing it in his suit pocket. I remember his touch on my shoulder, his warm smile. He had the kindest eyes I have ever seen.

Throughout my life, Mowla Bapa has been my strength. No matter what trials I faced, my faith in him never wavered. I knew he would always grant me the strength to endure any difficulty. He answered my deepest prayers by granting Lilly the precious opportunity to meet him two years before she passed. For the past four and a half years, I have found profound peace in the knowledge that my Lalla is safe, under his divine care, and that he is watching over her with boundless love and protection.

His legacy is not just in the institutions he built or the global initiatives he spearheaded, but in the deeply personal ways he shaped my life. His teachings gave me resilience when I felt alone in Malawi, without a community. His presence in my life gave me courage to keep moving forward, even when it felt like the world had turned its back on me. His unwavering commitment to education taught me to value knowledge, and his dedication to humanity showed me the power of service.

It is because of him that I learned to trust in the unseen, to have faith even when I felt lost, to believe that I was never truly alone. His words, his guidance, and his love have been the pillars of my existence, anchoring me through life’s storms.

Though he has physically departed from this world, his wisdom, kindness, and vision will continue to inspire me every single day. I will carry his lessons forward, striving to embody the values he instilled in me—to be compassionate, to seek knowledge, to serve selflessly, and to always walk the path of faith. His light will never fade, and his love will remain with me forever.

May his soul rest in eternal peace, and may I honor his memory not just in mourning, but in the way I choose to live my life.