It’s an old tale, borrowed from the wreckages of past.
Ali bin Muttaqi, the pious, in his mosque stood aghast.
He was reciting God’s names, as he did dawn to dusk.
It was Friday and yet there were none in the mosque.
The Imam, with a heavy heart, got up from his prayers,
He put away the holy book and climbed down the stairs.
He gazed into the empty space and tried to surmise.
Ali bin Muttaqi grieved as tears rolled from his eyes.
And then all of a sudden, right into the mosque’s halls,
Many black and brown pigeons flew in from the walls.
They fulfilled ablutions together on the water springs.
They lined up for prayers and then spread their wings.
Ali the Pious, his eyes were again with tears clouded,
He had never in his life seen prayer lines so crowded.

The poem is an attempted retelling of the classic poem “Ali bin Muttaqi Roya” by Zubair Rizvi. In all its probability, Ali bin Muttaqi refers to the compiler of Kanzul Ummal, Hazrat Ali al-Hindi rahimahullaah.