Before I start, I'd like to make a disclaimer. Some readers might find that this article contains statements of questionable orthodoxy. I take no responsibility for any offence caused to those who think they are more orthodox in religion than the rest of us.

During Christmas 1994, I visited Karachi and met up with my cousin. Athar was a dreamy chap, a young man caught between the seemingly divergent paths of Sufi spirituality and a mundane career in information technology. I was determined to learn about God from books and jurists. He was determined to experience God.

One Thursday night, I was with Athar and expressed my desire to visit the Madani Masjid in Karimabad, a major markaz (headquarters) of the Tabligh-i-Jamaa in Pakistan. The TJ are a missionary movement founded in India by a Deobandi jurist and Sufi named Muhammad Illyas Kandhalwi. It is based on the teachings of the Deobandi school and a combination of Sufi orders. I considered myself a staunch Deobandi , and TJ was for me. My cousin had other ideas.

"Irfan, I'll take you there. But first you must see another kind of Islam. We are going to a place where you'll meet an Englishman."

An Englishman named Faridi

We caught a small vagun (minibus) which took us to a graveyard called Sakh-i-Hasan. Nearby was a mansion with a small mausoleum in the front yard crowned with a white marble dome. We entered the small domed structure just as some women were exiting, their heads partially covered with shawls. We were greeted by an elderly man singing a haunting naat (religious song) in chaste Urdu in praise of Prophet Muhammad.

"Irfan, here is the Englishman. He was a great saint. Many people still follow him. His name is Shahidullah Faridi".

Saint? In Islam? We don't have saints in Islam. This all sounds like bid'ah (evil innovation in religious matters). Deobandi alarm bells started to ring inside of me.

At the head of the grave was a white turban. My cousin kissed the turban and walked backwards so as to avoid his back being turned to the grave.

By now, those Deobandi alarm bells were crashing against my ears. Praying to a grave? Praying to the dead? How much bid'ah can he cram into one graveyard visit? Athar could almost read my thoughts that he had prostrated to the turban. He immediately tried to dispel my fears.

"I wasn't doing sijda (Urdu pronunciation of sajda or prostration), Irfan. I was just kissing the headstone. It is respect. It is not worship."

His explanation didn't help. As far as I was concerned, this whole thing was drenched in bid'ah and shirk (associating partners with God). I refused to follow suit.

Introducing Uwais

I found Athar's style of Sufism alien to what I was taught to regard as orthodox. Then my cousin told me the story of a man who lived during the time of the Prophet Muhammad. This man never met the Prophet, but he did believe in the Prophet's mission. Further, the Prophet was aware of this man's faith.

The man's name was Uwais al-Qarani. He came from a place called Qaran in Yemen. Apparently two of the Prophet's closest friends were ordered by the Prophet during his lifetime to visit Uwais and convey to him the Prophet's greetings. Uwais was also to receive a cloak worn by the Prophet which would enable him to transmit a piece of the Prophet's gnostic wisdom. Finally, they were to ask Uwais to pray for their forgiveness.

After the Prophet's death, Umar and Ali set out to Yemen to meet Uwais. They found him living in extreme poverty, looking virtually like a person you'd see living on the streets. They conveyed the Prophet's greetings, and asked Uwais to pray for their forgiveness.

I found it difficult to believe the Uwais story. The idea that the Prophet would honour a man who lived in such conditions seemed alien to me. And why would the Prophet order close friends like Umar and Ali to have Uwais pray for their forgiveness when the Prophet had already apparently promised them a place in paradise?

Yet the story of Uwais is to be found in the books of all schools of Islamic thought, Sunni and Shia . I even found it in a Tabligh-i-Jamaa textbook! Here was a side of Islam I never even knew.

Jesus and Uwais

Uwais is a universal figure representing the love of God and the dignity of humanity. Prophet Muhammad spoke of Uwais in such glowing terms in the same manner that Jesus praised his followers as "the salt of the earth". Yet so many of Jesus' followers were people the rest of society regarded as damned tax collectors, fishermen, street people and prostitutes.

If we see a person living on the streets, we would hardly expect them to be honoured by such sacred people as Jesus and Muhammad.

Real Islam, indeed real religion is designed to rid us of the pomposity and self-righteousness that plagues so much religiosity. The prophets of God sat with and made time for those whom society pushes away. Christ spent time with tax collectors, fishermen and prostitutes. Christ did not go to the prime minister of his day and seek a few measly ringgit in return for blind loyalty.

We know that Prophet Muhammad was known to make time for a woman in his city of Madina who suffered from schizophrenia, keeping her company and allowing her to lead him around the city as she babbled meaningless words to people inside her head. He also had a close friend Julaybib who had no known ancestry and apparently suffered from some physical deformities. And he was so fond of a black slave woman whose name has not come down to us but whose place in paradise is assured since she spent so much effort sweeping the Prophet's mosque.

And where did the great sufis come from? They originated from those poor starving semi-naked 'People of the Bench' ( ashab as-suffah ), the equivalent of today's street people.

Street sainthood

Both Christian and Muslim traditions recognise the possibility of what we might describe as "street sainthood". In affluent countries like Australia and Malaysia, many (if not most) people who live on the streets are poor and suffering from serious illness. Some deal with their illness by addiction. Others just try to live with their depression or psychosis as best they can.

I know the rules are different in the courts of His or Her Majesty, but in the Divine Court people with serious psychiatric illnesses have moral responsibility for their actions suspended. I believe these people are veritable saints. Spending time with them should bring peace to our hearts.

So every year on the Thursday before Easter, I join some Buddhist monks in a special ceremony at a Sydney church. There, we spend time with Sydney's street saints. They shuffle into the church of the Reverend Bill Crews for lunch. Bill, the Buddhist monks and I take turns in washing their feet.

Why? The New Testament teaches that before his last supper, Christ washed the feet of his disciples as an act of humility. If I, as a Muslim, claim to believe in Christ, I should follow his example, his sunnah as it were. Bill has shown me a way. And whose feet are more worthy of being washed than those of the saints!

Indeed, wisdom is the lost property of the believer.

IRFAN YUSUF is a Sydney-based lawyer, writer and blogger whose articles and reviews have appeared in various newspapers including the Sydney Morning Herald , Melbourne Age , Canberra Times , Australian Financial Review and New Zealand Herald .