In 1969, Musharaff Moulamia Khan, the youngest brother of Hazrat Inayat Khan and then Pir-o-Murshid of the Sufi Movement, made a pilgrimage to India. At the conclusion of his stay there, he made a final visit to the tomb of his Brother, and later gave this account. in “Pages in the Life of a Sufi.”

Some weeks later I paid my last visit to the Dargah of my revered brother, this time alone. We felt this parting would be too much for my companion to watch and endure. Strong and deep was my inner prayer. “This is, you know, my last homage to you, my Murshid, here; my only thought is that the Message you left may spread far and wide, and that you will always send us illumination and inspire us. If I could bring even one person to an understanding of that Message, I would be quite content.”

I remembered too that after his own initiation, he went to the tomb of Moin-ud-din Chisti. And as he was on his way there he passed a dervish, who whispered in his ear : “O young man, do not be so restless and eager. Go on, but things will happen themselves and develop.” The whispering of the dervish in his ears seemed to comfort him before the thought: “How great is my task, and how shall I begin it?” Among dervishes there is no idea of haste and despair, of time and place.

I felt as if I were speaking to my brother and saying to him : “You know our difficulties very well; how some take it and misunderstand.” And I had a feeling as if an answer came, steadying me in my resolution and conviction, with a promise of help. And I was lifted into a country of hope.

There is a light hidden behind the clouds, a light that remains even when the eyes are looking at the dark colour of stormy clouds. Behind the confusion of life, a memory of this light once seen remains constant; of this light which suffuses that world above, that world of hope. It remains more visible than all in this seen world.

“Patience,” I heard.