Sadly, on the 28th of December 2017, Maulana Muhammad Hasan departed from this temporal abode and left us with his memories.
عن عاءـشة قالت : ما غرت على أحد من نساء النبي ما غرت على خديجة – وما رأيتها – ولكن كان يكثر ذكرها، وربما ذبح الشاة فيقطعها أعضاء، ثم يبعثها في صدائق خديجة، فربما قلت: كأنه لم يكن في الدنيا امرأة إلا خديجة فيقول: «إنها كانت وكانت وكان لي منها ولد
Aisha, Allah be well pleased with her, states that:
“I was not envious of any of the wives of Prophet, Allah bless him and give him peace, more than I envied Khadija – and I had not seen her – but the Prophet used to remember her frequently. He, at times, used to distribute meat amongst Khadija’s friends, whereupon I would exclaim, “It’s as if there is no other woman in the world except Khadijah!”
He would remark, “She was like this …and like this.. and I have had children from her”
As I sit down to write this, there are many memories that I recall about Maulana Hasan Tai – too many to mention here. Somewhat similar to how the Prophet Muhammad, Allah bless him and give him peace, used to reminisce over Khadijah.
I first met Maulana Hasan Tai when I took the spiritual path with Shaykh As’ad Madani in 1994. I remember him walking into the room after the baiy’ah and congratulating me by remarking in Urdu ‘Mubarak ho!’ Little was I to know that this was the beginning of a 23 year acquaintance.
I had the good fortune of travelling around the UK accompanying my Shaykh and he for many years. During these trips, as night came, I would often find myself sharing a room with him in some hosts’ house. I remember quite vividly that he would always, even in the long Summer days – where Isha prayer is late and Fajr is early – get up at around 2.30am and start praying and making dhikr. He would also make several attempts at waking us lazy sleepers up as well. I was young in my late teens and early twenties whilst he was in his seventies – but still he managed to muster up an enormous amount of strength when it came to prayer, whereas I could never get enough sleep. Many a time he would have to return two or three times before he completely exorcised the Satan of sleep from us.
I remember laughing with him and crying with him. He had a habit of eating less but during our travels the generous hosts would often put more in his plate than he could eat – and it fell to me – as well as others – to finish off his leftovers. Sometimes, a piece of meat would be too big for him to finish so he would half it and give the other half to me. Shaykh As’ad Madani would laugh and exclaim that Maulana Hasan is distributing his tabarruk!!
He performed my nikah ceremony – a blessed communion that has produced four lovely children: two boys and two girls.
His rigour in punctuality of prayers is something I still envy. And as long as his body allowed, he would frequent the masjid. During his latter years, he had appointed someone to lead him in prayers at his house. If I happened to be there erstwhile, he would often instruct me to lead the prayer.
When we bought the then ‘Shareholders Arms’ which later became As-Suffa Institute, he graced us twice to pray for its success; the benefits of which we are still reaping.
He had a very good memory of hadith and would quote them during the normal mundane affairs of the day – giving the hadith a very practical element. Not mere theoretical knowledge but actual applied knowledge that had relevance to us in our day to day dealings.
As I’m probably the only person on Earth who doesn’t have a mobile phone, I took up the lost art of letter writing and would write to him every Ramadan requesting his prayers. I would always add, ‘please don’t trouble yourself by replying.’ He would mock at this habit of mine mentioning it to other scholars.
His simplicity was something to be marveled at. He would, without any pretense of behaviour, talk to one and all. He would share food, laugh and, at times, even admonish my colleagues and I.
His passing away has deeply affected me and has left a void that I’m afraid will never be filled. Walsall without him will never be the same. I can only recall a poem by Rose de Leon that I find aptly describes my feelings:
We thought of you with love today,
But that is nothing new.
We thought about you yesterday.
And the days before that too.
We think of you in silence.
We often speak your name.
Now all we have is memories.
And your picture in a frame.
Your memory is our keepsake.
With which we’ll never part.
God has you in his keeping.
We have you in our heart.
I pray that Allah Most High grant him the highest of ranks in the hereafter.