Beyond Binaries: Rethinking Religiosity through Tuhfatul Mujahideen

Introduction

Modern discussions of Islamic tradition, as Professor of Religious Studies SherAli Tareen has shown,¹ often rely upon categories, binaries and preconceptions that largely emerged from Western, orientalist intellectual history. Most notable is the assumption that religion is a private, apolitical domain of inward belief, Sunni and Shi’a are historical rivals, and the framing of Sufism as a quietist, mystical alternative to a legalist or political Islam. These conceptual grids not only distort the internal discursive logic of Islamic tradition but also obscure the lived realities of Muslim communities across history.

This article challenges the aforementioned three prevalent misconceptions by returning to Sheikh Zainuddin Makhdum II’s Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn, a 16^th-century chronicle of the Mappila Muslims’ resistance to Portuguese colonial forces in Malabar. Sheikh Makhdum II, chief Qadi of Ponnani and one of the most influential Sufi figures across the Indian Ocean, authored several works on Sufism, jurisprudence and theology. In Tuhfa, he declared jihad against the Portuguese as an individual obligation (fard ayn), which shows that his understanding of Sufism encompassed spiritual devotion, legal adherence, and political activism, complicating the modern category of ‘religion’ and dichotomies like mysticism/legalism and political/quietism.¹ Beyond this, his act of dedicating Tuhfa to a Shi’a ruler whom he describes in the highest esteem, despite confessional differences, further complicates the simplistic narrative of Sunni-Shi’a “mutual rivalry”. For Makhdum II, the dīn was not confined to inward mystical experience nor separable from legal and political obligations. Rather, it authorized a form of ethical and communal life in which mysticism, law, and politics converged in an indissociable manner.

Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn: A Short Description

Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn fī baʿḍ Akhbār al-Burtughāliyyīn is an important 16th-century Arabic historical work written by Sheikh Zainuddin Makhdum II of Ponnani, a notable scholar from the Malabar region in Kerala, southern India. Written in 1583, Tuhfa is recognized as the earliest historical narrative of Kerala by a local author.² The book provides a distinctive account of the local customs of the time, the early history of Islam in Malabar, while also depicting the initial phase of colonial intrusion on the Malabar coast and narrating the forms of indigenous resistance. This makes the treatise crucial for understanding the early history and culture of Malabar.

Makhdum II was born in 1530 in Chombal to the educated Makhdum family that “migrated to Malabar from the Coromandel Coast and claimed a lineage that went back to Abū Bakr (c.573-634 CE), the Companion of the Prophet Muḥammad”.³ He received his early education in Ponnani. Later, he travelled to Makkah and spent nearly ten years studying Islamic sciences under respected scholars like Shihāb al-Dīn bin Ḥajar al-Haytamī (d. 1566 CE). When he returned to Ponnani, he taught at the dars under the Juma Masjid for about thirty-six years. Besides Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn, he wrote several other texts including Fathul Muʿīn – a standard Shāfiʿī fiqh text – and Irshād al-ʿIbād ilā Sabīl al-Rashād in Sufism.

The historical context that produced the text is quite relevant. The Portuguese Estado da India, established after Vasco da Gama’s arrival on the Malabar coast in 1498, systematically disrupted the Indian Ocean trade networks on which Malabar Muslim communities, the Mappilas, depended for their economic survival. Portuguese naval violence, the forcible imposition of the cartaz licensing system, the destruction of Muslim trading vessels, and periodic attacks on Malabar ports combined to produce what Makhdum II himself documents as a sustained campaign against Muslim life, trade, and religious practice.⁴ Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn is a response to this crisis a historical record, a theological legitimation of resistance, and simultaneously a political petition addressed to Muslim rulers who possessed the military capacity to intervene.

Subsequently, Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn was written with three main goals: first, to stir the Muslims into jihad against the colonial power. Second, to draw the attention of the larger Muslim community, especially the rulers, and to gain external support for the resistance. The usage of the Arabic language in this treatise indicates the author’s wish to make the book available to wider audiences. Third, to document the political events and cultural practices in Malabar during the initial phase of colonialism.

Nevertheless, this article explains how Makhdum II understands religiosity and spirituality, especially in a historical context of facing a massive power, that enables us to discredit the modern category of ‘religion’ and some prevalent dichotomies and misconceptions.

A Tribute to a Shi’a Ruler

One of the salient features of Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn is that it is written by a prominent authoritative Sunni Shāfiʿī scholar and dedicated to a Shi’a ruler, namely Ali Adil Shah I (1558–1580 CE). Ferishta (1570-1623 CE) describes him as a fierce Shi’a ruler who even reversed the religious customs of the Bijapur empire “by issuing orders for the Khootba to be read throughout his dominions in the names of the Imams” and appointed forty persons “to utter curses against the Sahiba”.⁵ It implies that Ali Adil Shah I was a strong proponent of the Imamiyyah Ithna ‘Ashariyyah section of the Shiite movement who endorses its religious customs and practices, departing from the policies of his own father, Ibrahim Adil Shah I. 

Nevertheless, what is quite interesting is how Makhdum II describes Ali Adil Shah I in a language of extraordinary admiration: as “the noblest and the most respected of all rulers,” “generous to ‘strangers and the weak’”, “one who takes delight in the struggle against disbelievers and regards fighting to uphold the divine word as a great honor”,and most remarkably, “the reviver of the faith from misguidance and the eradicator of heresy from the territories of Allah” (Emphasis is mine).⁴ Makhdum II, a well-trained Shafiʿi scholar with connections to the scholarly networks of the Hejaz and Hadhramaut, should be aware of the theological and jurisprudential debates separating his tradition from Ithna ʿAshari Shi’ism. Still, he dedicated the treatise to such a ruler, with such language, which demands a reasonable explanation. 

The Bijapur Sultanate was geographically proximate to Malabar, possessed significant military resources, and had its own grievance against Portugal due to the seizure of Goa from the Adil Shah dynasty. The sultan had both motivation and means to act against Portuguese power. Makhdum II’s dedication was therefore simultaneously an act of respect for his resistance efforts and a strategic appeal, hoping to secure the support of a powerful ally who already had a grievance against the enemy.

But what is most interesting is his description of the sultan, whose religious practices Sunni orthodoxy has classified as innovation (bidʿah), as “the reviver of the faith” (muḥyī dīnillāh) and eradicator of misguidance and heresy. The misguidance (ḍalāl) and heresy (kufr) in Makhdum II’s formulation do not signal the Shi’a theological positions, on the contrary; they collectively indicate the Portuguese colonial presence in Muslim territories. Subsequently, Ali Adil Shah I is characterized here as one of the fierce rulers who fought against this disgusting presence and heresy. In other words, for Makhdum II, the ‘prime’ misguidance in that existential moment is the colonial brutal violence and invasion. This re-articulation of misguidance reveals Makhdum II’s imagination of the Muslim ummah as a unified political community constituted somewhat by a shared identity in which confessional difference is consciously subordinated, though not erased, to that larger imperative. In this imagination, the Shi’a ruler who fights the Portuguese is part of the same political community as he is, moving beyond sectarian lines.

I think this historical account of Makhdum II complicates the dominant prevailing dictum that considers Sunnism and Shi’ism as historical mutual rivals. For instance, Barack Obama, the former American president, stated that ‘the Middle East is going through a transformation that will play out for a generation, rooted in conflicts that date back millennia”.⁶ It is obvious that he primarily means the Sunni-Shi’a conflict. He might have employed this simplistic ‘mutual rivalry theory’ to deflect attention from the immediate and fundamental causes of the increase in sectarian violence between Sunnis and Shi’ism over the past few years including the American invasion. Unfortunately, some extremist Sunni and Shi’a groups now re-articulate this interpretation to disparage and exclude the other, fueling the colonial-imperial narrative. I do not deny that the exclusivity and enmity have not persisted between different Sunni and Shi’a communities and empires in various periods. But this is not the whole story. We can also see the stories of cooperation and mutual support. As Makhdum II himself says, upon the letters of Zamorin, Ismail Adil Shah, the grandfather of the Sultan Ali Adil Shah (also a Shi’a) “gave orders to get ready their warships and escort-vessels which were later found to be unsuitable to be put to sea.”⁴ The historical account of Makhdum II thus establishes that even when Sunnis and Shi’as are theologically distinguished from each other, they have often lived harmoniously together and combined forces against invaders, complicating the simplistic yet dominant framework of “mutual rivalry”. 

The Category of ‘Religion’ and Makhdumian Insight

The category of “religion” is widely used both in ordinary circumstances and academic discourses as a universal, timeless category that encompasses every belief system including Christianity, Buddhism and Islam. However, does the “religion” possess a transhistorical and transcultural genealogy? Is this category actually a universal one capable of encompassing every spiritual aspiration? The recent historical studies on religion have asserted that this category is a modern notion arising from the sixteenth century onwards, then exported through colonialism and exported through European colonialism and cultural imperialism.⁷ When civil wars, religious conflicts and the violent process of laying the foundation of modern nation-states devastate the polity of Europe, they decided to achieve political stability through isolating belief about God in the private sphere, granting the authority of the public domain to nation-states. By the end of the seventeenth century, it had become common to use ‘religion’ for the inner belief. John Locke, one of the founders of liberal political philosophy, clearly articulates this conception when he writes, “true and saving religio consists in the inward persuasion of the mind”.⁸

Furthermore, Talal Asad, in his Genealogies of Religion, traces the Protestant roots of “religion”, contending that the concept is closely attached to the protestant movement and rejection of Catholic ritualism, in which ‘true religion’ is firmly located in mind, rejecting the concentration on rituals and outward deeds.⁹ Martin Luther, the founder of the protestant movement asserts that salvation is not through rituals but “by faith alone”. Through a neat separation between mind/body and belief/action, rituals, outward deeds and social dimensions have become inessentials to religion. In other words, “religion”, a new category that sprang from the Enlightenment, came to be perceived as an internal, personal, depoliticized entity engaging only with the private realm of individuals, that negates the social, communal and public significance of religion. Subsequently, this conception was exported to other parts through colonialism, which resulted in constructing new “world religions” such as Hinduism and Buddhism, and reconstructing the existing religions like Islam to align with their universal conception of “private religion”.⁷ The efforts, movements and callings to secularize “Islam” in the modern period must be understood in this large context. 

Rather than a mere change in the conception, this evolution tremendously influences the modern understandings, sensibilities and political thought. Consider the argument to regulate Islamic veiling. Recently, the Karnataka High Court agreed to the restriction of hijab in colleges by arguing that “it does not form a part of essential religious practices in the Islamic faith”.¹⁰ I set aside here the question of into the question of authority of a secular court to decide the essential and nonessential matters of religion. However, a minimal analysis of this issue draws us back to the very European “universal” conception of religion, where essential matters are constrained to the inner/private realm.¹¹ The purportedly universal category of ‘religion’ that actually emerged from a particular European experience by revisiting Makhdum II’s magnum opus, Tuhfatul Mujāhidīn. 

At the outset of his treatise, Makhdum II calls for jihad against the worshippers of the cross (ʿAbadat al-Ṣulbān), namely, the Portuguese colonial army not due to their identity, but their inhumane atrocities, brutalities and violence unleashed upon the native people, especially the Mappila Muslims. The term ‘worshippers of the cross’ indicates the religion of the Portuguese, namely, Christianity. Similarly, this call reflects the kind of jihad he is calling for – defensive jihad (jihād al-dafʿ). Defensive jihad is the armed resistance undertaken to repel an external aggressor who attacks or invades Muslim lands. Namely, it is not initiated by Muslims, but a reaction to the aggression of the enemy. Accordingly, he considered this resistance as “farḍ ʿayn” (individual obligation), unlike offensive jihad (jihad al-talab) which is a communal obligation (farḍ kifāyah). He states,

“The second case is when they (the enemy) enter the lands of the Muslims, as in our present situation. In such a case, jihad becomes an individual obligation (farḍ ʿayn) upon every legally accountable Muslim who is capable of undertaking it.”⁴

To underscore the seriousness and gravity of the matter, he reiterates numerous Qur’an verses and prophetic traditions asserting the necessity and huge reward assured by Allah Almighty for the jihad, steadfastness and martyrdom. He even enumerates some fundamental legal rulings concerning the defensive jihad, such as its obligation upon all individuals, including women, civilians, enslaved people, and dependents, without requiring the permission of their guardians. It is likewise obligatory upon those who live within the distance in which prayer-shortening does not apply and extend upon those beyond it if the people within are not sufficient.⁴

It can be conceived from this detailed account that, for Makhdum II, jihad in that existential moment became an individual obligation, even for the most vulnerable people, and failure to fulfil the responsibility without a legitimate excuse might incur divine accountability in the hereafter. In other words, the individual religiosity in that particular moment was realized only through active resistance and fighting against the invaders. This reflects, in my view, a foundational dimension of Islamic theology that the ‘religion’ is not a purely inner experience confined to the psychic realm, but rather a synthesis of both inner conviction (iman) and outward action (amal), each dimension authenticating and completing the other. One who neglects either dimension will fail to uphold true religiosity and spirituality. So, for Makhdum II, passive Muslims watching the Portuguese destroy and plunder their or community’s possessions while still claiming spiritual adequacy would be guilty of that failure.

He then turns to the duties of rulers to arrange essential amenities for the jihad and manage the distribution of war booty (ghanīmah) after the war.⁴However, Makhdum II acknowledges the vulnerability of Malabar muslims due to the absence of a Muslim sultan to oversee their affairs, and the negligence of neighbouring Muslim sultans to support their resistance. But, for the support and solidarity in resisting the Portuguese, he praises Zamorin, the Hindu ruler of the Calicut kingdom, describing him as the “friend (muḥibb) of Muslims”.³ By emphasizing the necessity of resistance against colonial aggression under the command of a Muslim sultan, I think, Makhdum II underscores the inseparable link between private and public life. Personal and social matters, in this formulation, are equally central to religious life, and the individual bears responsibility to ensure justice and peace in both spheres to the possible extent, establishing that religiosity cannot be detached from communal and social life.

Furthermore, drawing upon the Quranic verse: “And why should ye not fight in the cause of Allah and of those who, being weak, are ill-treated (and oppressed)?” (Q, 4:75), Makhdum II identifies the underlying wisdom (ḥikmah) behind the obligation of jihad as the liberation and the protection of the oppressed, affirming the broader social and communal responsibilities that must be undertaken to realize true religiosity.⁴ One who ignores communal duties such as protecting the oppressed, is blameworthy as much as one who neglects personal obligations, even if the degree of severity may vary according to the circumstances and actions. 

Accordingly, the Makhdumian account of jihad complicates the modern conception of ‘religion’ in two ways. First, it challenges the articulation of ‘religion’ as solely a private inner belief by emphasizing the necessity of outward practices and external deeds. Second, it problematizes the conception of religion merely as an individual affair by highlighting the essentiality of social, political and communal dimensions of Islam. The reiterating phrase of din in Makhdum’s writing itself asserts this argument. He begins his work by saying, 

“Praise be to Allah, who made the din of Islam prevail over all other religions and honored those who adhere to it through the succession of time”.⁴

Din is a traditionally well-rooted phrase that denotes ‘religion’. The Quran uses this term in 94 instances that signify meanings such as judgment, obedience and ‘religion’.⁷ Abūl Baqāʾ al-Kafawī, a prominent Ottoman-Hanafi scholar, in his Kulliyyath technically defines din qua religion as a “divinely revealed system that guides human beings, through their reason and voluntary commitment, toward essential goodness, in both their inner beliefs and outward actions such as belief, knowledge and salat”.¹² In other words, for the scholars in Islamic tradition, din is not constrained to the inner/private realm, but encompasses outward practices, rituals, and social and communal dimensions. Thus, while he uses the term din to denote religion, it is not restricted to voluntary belief or the inner witnessing (Shahadah) of Allah, but extended to a divinely regulated set of practices, actions and embodied behaviors. The traditionally rooted conception of religiosity and spirituality in Makhdum II’s writings therefore challenges the universal and transhistorical claim of the modern category of ‘religion’, revealing its historically situatedness and emergence from a particular contextual experience. Unlike that, according to Makhdum II, the din authorizes a form of ethical and communal life that encompasses both inner and outer dimensions, and remains inseparable from social, political and communal life.

Makhdumian Sufism and Modern Dichotomies

As SherAli Tareen has shown, the dominant framework employed to analyze the Islamic tradition and scholarship often relies upon some stark binaries such as Sufi/Salafi, mysticism/legalism and political/quietism. In this framework, Sufism is perceived as a soft, mystical and quietist version of Islam, contrary to hard versions associated with legalism and political activism. Elizabeth Hurd argues that these dichotomies do not emerge from a neutral understanding of Islam, rather deeply embedded in the ‘good muslim/bad muslim’ discourse and ‘war on terror’ politics.¹³ ‘Good Islam’, in this framework, refers to versions that align with modern values and interests, versions amenable to imperial and neoliberal interests. While ‘bad religion’ refers to variants that can slip into radicalism, intolerance and violence, hence requiring constant surveillance, disciplining and state intervention.¹⁴

Sufism in this discourse is regarded as a good, open and pluralist form of Islam, which can be strategically promoted to de-radicalise the so-called ‘bad muslims’. Not only are Western states promoting and financing the moderate, apolitical version of Sufism, but many Muslim majority states including the UAE and Pakistan have also partaken in this deradicalisation process. At the same time, the state validation of a ‘soft’ variants of Islam under the label of countering terrorism and extremism, often functions to legitimize political authority and silence dissent. The exclusive policies of the UAE against Islamism, paired with its promotion of a quietist qua statist version of Sufism can be seen as a recent example. These reconfiguration efforts subject Sufism to a “profound paradox”: the drive to renounce worldly pleasures and power while assisting and depending on violent exclusionary neoliberal regimes. In other words, such insidious political manoeuvres attempt to transform Sufism into a ‘moderate’, ‘soft’, and ‘unpolitical’ variant of Islam, one that is easily malleable to state interests and remains silent in the face of injustice. 

However, for Makhdum II, Sufism is not a distinct interpretation of Islam that negates legal rulings and political activism. The notion that Sufism stands in opposition to legalism, overlooks the fact that adherence to Sharia is a primary prerequisite for higher spiritual refinement. Zainuddin Makhdum I (d. 1522 CE/928 AH), the grandfather of Makhdum II, illustrates the divine path of Sufism culminating in three hierarchical stages: shari’a (divine normative order), tariqa (the Sufi path) and haqiqa (divine reality). He writes:¹⁵

من رام درًّا للسفينة يركب        ويغوص بحرًا ثم درّ حصّلا

وكذا الطريقة والحقيقة يا أخي   من غير فعل شريعة لن تحصلا

(Whoever seeks a pearl for the ship shall ride, and dive into the sea—then he gains the pearl. So too the tariqa and haqiqa, O brother mine; without the acts of sharia, you shall not find.)

In other words, adherence to sharia forms the primary footstep for attaining higher spirituality. Moreover, while describing the necessity of jihad against the Portuguese army, Makhdum II emphasizes both adherence to law and spirituality to fulfil one’s responsibility in that critical moment. After explaining the legal verdicts relating to distribution of war booty (ghanīmah), he underscores the importance of dua, taqwa and reliance upon God before embarking on jihad: “it is recommended (sunna) for the mujāhid to supplicate and seek victory from Allah, and to cultivate piety (taqwā) and reliance upon Allah, before engaging in jihad.”⁴ Thus, the stark binary between legalism and mysticism, and the portrayal of Sufism as antithetical to legalism, are historically inconsistent and invalid. For Makhdum II, the higher spiritual flourishing can only be attained through abiding by the imperatives of sharia. Thus, the relationship between law and Sufism is hierarchical not oppositional, ultimately aimed at realizing the Divine reality. 

Similarly, Makhdum II’s insistence on a Khalifate to caretake the affairs of Muslims, and the necessity of jihad to expel invaders and end their atrocities, situate the politics in the center of Islamic worldview, thereby challenging the modern assumption of Sufism as a quietist, apolitical interpretation of Islam.¹ In contrast, he highlights the necessity of spiritual virtues like piety, dua and hope in Allah for a mujahid to undertake his mission successfully. In other words, jihad al-nafs: the struggle against one’s ego and purification of the soul functions as the precondition to carry out jihad against enemies. Thus, political activism stands neither in a binary relationship with Sufism, nor is it extraneous to religion, rather purification of heart through Sufism became a precondition for engaging in politics. Makhdum II’s conception of Sufism thus problematizes depiction of Sufism as a mystical, quietist alternative to Sharia-centered religion and political engagement. 

Conclusion

This paper argues that Sheikh Zainuddin Makhdum II’s thoughts and writings disrupt three interrelated modern assumptions about Islamic history and tradition. First, his dedication of Tuhfa to a Shi’a ruler, whom he describes in a highly deferential language, challenges the simplistic framework of Sunni-Shi’a mutual rivalry, revealing instead a more complex history in which confessional difference was consciously subordinated, though not erased, to broader political and communal solidarity. Second, his account of jihad as an individual obligation incumbent upon every capable Muslim, inseparable from personal piety, communal responsibility, and political action, complicates the modern category of ‘religion’ as a purely private, apolitical affair. For Makhdum II, the dīn authorizes a form of ethical and communal life that encompasses both inner conviction and outward action, neither reducible to individual spirituality nor separable from social and political life. Similarly, his vision of Sufism is not a quietist retreat from law or politics, but a hierarchical framework where adherence to shari’a is the very foundation of Sufi progress, and jihad al-nafs serves as the precondition for outward social-political engagement. Through the integration of jihad, spiritual virtues, and active care for the oppressed, Makhdum II illustrates that true religiosity and Sufi praxis are profoundly connected to ethical, social and political engagement. This challenges contemporary secular portrayals of ‘private religion’ and ‘quietist Sufism’, revealing a holistic understanding of Islamic life where faith, action, and community coalesce.

---

Disclaimer: Material published by Traversing Tradition is meant to foster scholarly inquiry and rich discussion. The views, opinions, beliefs, or strategies represented in published articles and subsequent comments do not necessarily represent the views of Traversing Tradition or any employee thereof.

Works Cited:

1. Tareen, SherAli Khan, and Margrit Pernau. Defending Muḥammad in Modernity. University of Notre Dame Press, 2020. [↩] [↩] [↩]
2. Kurup, K. K. N. “Foreword.” In Tuhfat Al-Mujahidin: A Historical Epic of the Sixteenth Century. Islamic Book Trust, n.d. [↩]
3. Kooria, Mahmood. “An Abode of Islam Under a Hindu King: Circuitous Imagination of Kingdoms among Muslims of Sixteenth-Century Malabar.” Journal of Indian Ocean World Studies 1 (2017). [↩] [↩]
4. Makhdum II, Sheikh Ahmed Zainudheen. Tuhfatul Mujahideen. Mu’assasat al-Wafāʾ, n.d. [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩] [↩]
5. Ferishta, Mahomed Kasim. History of the Rise of the Mohamedan Power in India. Vol. 3. Low Price Publications, n.d. [↩]
6. Kabalan, Marwan J. “Middle East Sectarianism: A Symptom to a Cause.” In Arab Center. Washington D.C, 2019. [↩]
7. Abbasi, Rushain. “Islam and the Invention of Religion: A Study of Medieval Muslim Discourses on Dīn.” Studia Islamica 116 (2021): 1–106. [↩] [↩] [↩]
8. Locke, John. Letter on Toleration. Clarendon Press, 1968. [↩]
9. Asad, Talal. Genealogies of Religion: Discipline and Reasons of Power in Christianity and Islam. Nachdr. Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1997. [↩]
10. THE HINDU BUREAU. “Hijab Not an Essential Practice of Islam, Rules Karnataka High Court.” The Hindu (Bengaluru), 2022. https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/karnataka/wearing-of-hijab-is-not-an-essential-practice-as-per-islamic-faith-karnataka-high-court/article65226798.ece. [↩]
11. Laborde, Cécile. Liberalism’s Religion. Harvard University Press, 2017. [↩]
12. Kafawi, Abu al-Baqa’ al-. Al-Kulliyyat. Dar al-Risala, n.d. https://shamela.ws/book/7037. [↩]
13. Hurd, Elizabeth Shakman. Beyond Religious Freedom: The New Global Politics of Religion. Princeton University Press, 2015. [↩]
14. Mamdani, Mahmood. Good Muslim, Bad Muslim; America, the Cold War and the Roots of Terror. Penguin Random House, 2005. [↩]
15. Malabari, Abdul Nasīr. Irs̱hād Al-Albā’ Ilā H̱idāyat al-Adhkīyā’ Commentary on H̱idāyat al-Adhkīyā’ Ilā Ṭarīq al-Awliyā’. Dar al-Diya’, 2014. [↩]