It has been a great honor and privilege to know in person Hidayat Inayat Khan. I loved his feisty spirit, his humor, his mischievous side that he dare revealing in the intimacy of our French conversations.

The dearest moments that I shared with him were during his visits in Montclair with dear Aziza or driving together to the Abode of the Message and stopping for him to enjoy a soup that Monick had prepared. He refused to share as he held it and said “it is mine, Monick made it for me.” Of course it was done in jest but he could be funny like this at time.

Hidayat has inspired me greatly as he revealed very little of himself that I could relate to in comparison to the wealth of richness inhabiting his being. I was humble once when we had dinner with Michael Harrison and both started a conversation on the intricacy of the classical Indian music and ragas. It was as if they did not speak English any longer, they communicated with each other and we were witnesses to a communion of souls that shared a common

Hidayat’s writing that he shared will remain my source of inspiration as I saw him work on some of it with such great care, concentration in what exemplified mindfulness and singlemindedness seeking nothing less than perfection not only in the expression of his feeling and thoughts but in the grammatical structure as well.

In French he trusted me enough to share stories about his life, when he lived at Suresnes before the war and came back with his first wife. He talked about his experiences in the Vercors stealing a horse to exchange against a chicken. He wanted to understand why people of my generation sought alternative means of consciousness as he suffered greatly losing his own son to drug.

His friendship will remain dear in my heart and I will always love him as I love his dear Aziza who kept fussing about him and making sure that the kitchen produces food that he could eat. She was marvelous with him. She did not like us speaking French around her and we had to switch back to English as he cared so much about her feelings.

So many memories in Charlottesville, in Holland and in Montclair. My heart is full of gratitude to have meet an extraordinary being that has been such an inspiration over the years. He became a true God-father.

He tried to entice me to join the Sufi Movement and I declined. His heart was speaking as we loved each other but he respected my loyalty to the Sufi Ruhaniat and my dear Murshid Saul. So I told him to get Saul in the Sufi Movement and I will follow right away. This never happened.

Now that his soul freed itself from the garb, I will pray that his journey toward the light be quick and that he finds peace. The world is a bridge and he has now reached the place where he belongs and that he deserves.

Much love and blessings my dear Hidayat, my heart is with you and with all those that you love, especially your dear Aziza and your family.

Jean Pierre
Sheikh Salik of the Sufi Ruhaniat
Montclair, New Jersey, USA