Sindh’s Sufis
THREE GREAT SUFI TEACHERS
INAYET, "THE NECKLESS"
In the days of the Kalhoras, Sind passed into the hands of rulers who wielded powers both temporal and spiritual. The Kalhoras belonged to the Fakir Dynasty, but they had lost the touch of asceticism, which their ancestor, the famous Ahmed Shah, possessed. When they found themselves kings of Sind, they began to enforce their ideas of orthodox religion. A great Sindhi, Sahah Inayet, who was also a mighty Sufi, flourished at this time. He was famed in various parts of India for his piety and learning. He had disciples in many places. He lived for many years in the country of the Nizam with his teacher and had disciples from the Royal family. When this great man returned to his native place, Jhok, in Sind, he naturally found many followers. His influence perturbed both the priests and the Kalhoras who were the priest rulers of the land. The Kalhora king began to be disquieted when he saw the increasing strength of the followers of Inayet. Inayet was a very independent man; he had a very large number of followers, who carried arms - surely there was no "Arms Act" in those days.
This Sufi teacher was a great zemindar to boot, as his ancestors were men of great influence belonging to the original families of the Kureshi House. The Kalhora was nervous, and thus began his campaign of persecution and calumny. The orthodox preists of whom he was the head, helped him in anethematsing and passing fatwas on Inayet. Very soon the Kalhora reported the matter to the Delhi King, Farakhseer, charging Shah Inayet with rank sedition against the Governments of delhi and Sind. The degraded Mughal blindly ordered the capture Shah Inayet. Shah Inayet resisted. He lived in a fortress which he further fortified and barricaded. These Sufis seem to have been no mild flock; but were men of strong fibre. They knew the justice of their cause, and put up a great fight. The forces of the King laid siege to the fortress for four months and found it impossible to capture it. The ruler then took to deception, and sent letter requesting peace in the name of Allah, and the generoushearted Sufi fell into the trap. The wily Kalhora decapitated Shah Inayet and sent his head to Delhi to King Farakhseer. The head of the Sufi is said to have been alive and active all the journey from Sind to Delhi, and to have composed a poem called "Besir Namah," (The Poem of the Neckless). And when the head reached Delhi, it is said to have prophesied the fall of the Mughal.
It is impossible to guarantee the truth of the exaggerated accounts of the believing devotee, especially when some of his statements contradict both physical and psychical laws; but one thing is true - the manuscript, "Besir Namah," in Persian, is still in existence. To give up one's neck is the fundamental doctrine of the Sufi which Inayet enunciated in his poem. Jhok continues to be the Gadi still carries great influence throughout Sind; and almost all the various groups of the Sufis in other centres bow with reverence before this Gadi; and the name of Shah Inayet is as sacred to them as the name of the great Sufi Mansur. Shah Inayet is the Mansur of Sind. Like Mansur he gave up his life for the Sufi cause, fighting against tyrants, priests and rulers. His sacrifice is still a source of great inspiration to the Sufis of Sind, and the later Sufis have sung his praises abundantly. Still numerous desciples go as pilgrims to Jhok, which is situated a little distance from Tando Mahommed Khan.
ABOUT the end of the fourteenth century, when Timur was carrying on his terrible campaigns, there lived in Herat, beyond Baluchistan, a great noble, very rich,m by name Sayed Mirali, who gained the favour of Timur by giving him large sums of money. Timur, pleased with this voluntary help, bestowed upon him royal honours; and it is said that he appointed four of the six sons of Mirali as governors of Ajmir, Multan, Bukkur and Sehwan. The fifth son remained in Herat, while the sixth, though offered a governorship, preferred to accompany his father Mirali who was fighting in India. Soon after, this sixth son, Sayed Hyder Shah, separated from his father, and came to Sind and reached halla, a well-known place, a centre of industry and a place which afterwards produced many learned and pious men. Sind is still renowned for hospitality, and Sayed Hyder Shah enjoyed the hospitality of his host, Shah Mahomed, for a long time. Shah Mahomed was not in the good books of the Governor of the place and once found himself in a serious difficulty with the Government. Sayed Hyder Shah, his guest, extricated him from the danger, and thus the bond of affection was further strengthened between the guest and the host.
The noble guest soon fell in love with Fatma, a daughter of his host, whose soft, dark eyes captured his heart. Hyder's other wife, at Herat, bore him two sons, but the butterfly desired ardently the Sindhi damsel. The father readily agreed and Fatma was married to him. Very soon Herat pressed its claims and Hyder returned, leaving with the young wife, a maid-servant, a dagger and some other tokens. He left instruction that, if th echild that would be born was a son, he should be sent to Herat. Happily a son was born; but the father never came back to Sind, and soon after died in Herat. The son that was born was the ancestor of the greatest poet and mystic of Sind, Shah Latif. The boy grew up and went to Herat with the old maid-servant, proved his claim, and received his portion of the propperty from his brothers. He came back and settled in Sind at his native place. A long line of descendants followed.
SHAH KARIM
Shah Karim was the great-great-grandfather of Shah Latif. This man was person of great piety and was a well known poet; inded Shah Latif fed himself on the poetry of his great forbear; and many verses of his poems are included in the poetry of Shah Latif. I have already quoted the long poem "All is He" of Shah Karim. It is on the model supplied by Shah Karim that Latif built his poetry. Karim said :
Even if you read all the sacred books, of what avail ?
Can a lame ant in the well measure the skies !
He who lives in a hut built on the river bank,
Why need he thirst for water ?
But the fools cry on; and understand not.
THE BIRTH OF LATIF
There is some uncertainty about the date of Latif' birth. But it can safely be fixed between 1680 and 1690. His father's name was Shah Habib. He loved his son dearly and himself followed the tradition of his great Sufi forefather, Shah Karim. The little child Latif grew up uder the fostering care of his father, and in the saintly tradition and Sufi atmosphere of the house. He early showed signs of spirituality. The child was put under the taition of a learned and good man, Nurmahomed Bhatti (The Light of Mahomed). Some say he was never sent to school, but others are of the opinion that Latif was a great scholar and had mastered Arabic and Persian, as he displays a detailed knowledge of both in his poetry. The texts from the Koran, Masnuvi, Gulshan Raz and others, are so well rendered in Sindhi, that it is difficult to decide which is better, the original or the translation. The little child, as soon he grew into boyhood, became more and more subject to mystic moods. His father, Shah Habib, had now changed his home to Kotri, not the port on the river Indus but a village near Halla. Mirza Mogulbeg was the ruler of this place.
The father of Latif was the spiritual guide of the family, being a Sayed. These Sayeds also possessed the knowledge of medicine, and they very often treated their disciples. The daughter of Mirza fell ill, and Habib sent his son Latif to the house of the ruler to give relief and bestow blessing. Young Latif came often to the house, and is said to have fallen in love with the girl. He one day took the finger of the maiden in his hand, and said to her parents that she would be sompletely cured if given in marriage to him. It is a custom among the disciples to marry their daughters into the family of the spiritual guide. The family of Latif drew its lineage from the royal House of Herat, so Latif was quite hopeful that his suit would be accepted. But the Mughal was an inordinately proud man and did not look with favour on young Latif who, though handsome and well placed in life, had early gained the reputation of being a mystic Fakir.
Mirzabeg is said to have grown inimical to the family of Latif.
Latif tried his best to placate his anger; but the Mirza soon found relief from anger and egress from the world, being killed by robbers called dals. Tradition says that the curse of Latif was the cause of his death. But Latif, the Benign, was extremely loving-hearted, and in spite of the anger of the Mirza his daughter had been attracted to him, and offered her hand to him after her father's death. Not much is known about the poet's family life. A son was born to him but died soon. He had no other issue. He now took to the ascetic life completely and thoroghly.
BHIT SHARIF (REVERED)
If you pass along the road that leaves Halla for Hyderabad, you see further away, beyong the shrubs before you, big white mounds. These form the hills that are called Bhit. Many sand hills are found near Tando Allahyar in Hyderabd District, but in this part of Sind round about Halla, the Bhit is a solitary group of sandy mounds which, in the sun, present to the eye a very bright and shining spot; the glittering sands sparkle in the burning sun. Among these sandy mounds the great poet of Sind made his little cave where he dived into himself to solve the problem of the soul. Even when he was a boy, he used to turn away from the haunts of men and disappear into the thick group of shrubs, that surround these sand-hills. He used to come and go at his will. Once the youth did not come home at night. Naturally, Habib, his father, who loved him and also revered him as a great soul, felt nervous about the absence of his son. The father with a friend went out to find him. They found him at last covered with sand, sitting in meditation. The poor father cried in verse :
The wind has blown, the sand hath flown,
Thy limbs are covered with sand.
Latif, who had wakened from his contemplation, replied:
She is still breathing and alive, Striving to see the Beloved.
The Sufi always addresses the Beloved as the husband and thinks of himself as the handmaiden. The father was happy to find his son and brought him home. This was not the only occasion on which Latif's poor father had to seek his son. The youth once found a big hollow tamarisk tree in a lonely place. He made friends with a carpenter, who felt attracted towards him and made the hollow of the tree habitable for him. In this hollow tree the poet used to enter into contemplation and, forgetting his being, become lost in beatitude. Once, for some days, the son did not come home. The poor father found the separation from his son so hard, that at last the carpenter felt compassion for the poor man and showed him the solitary haunt of Latif.
After the death of his father Latif retired permanently to the Bhit, which is now called sharif (the revered), holy in the memory of all Sind.
THE SUFI'S STRUGGLE
It is said : "Let a saint live in the bowels of the earth, his light will shine even in the sky." So the fame of Latif soon spread round. Many are the anecdotes related of his life, but no correct account is available. He seems to have travelled far and wide, in the restrictd sense of the word; to have traversed the mountains of Kohistan and made pilgrimages to the shrines and monasteries of the ascetics in
Nani and Hinglaj. He went ot Rajputana, where at Jessalmir he had some pupils. Latif was a great observer of things, a lover of nature.
The Sufi is a true poet, that is, an admirer of nature and a worshipper of beauty. Shah Latif also studied nature and worshipped at the altar of beauty, but the Sufi differs from many poets, inasmuch as he interprets everything that he observes in terms of his intense longing for the Beloved. Latif is a naturalist, a moralist, a philosopher, but fundamentally a lover to whom all things whisper of the Beloved, and the Path that leads to Him, as will be evident from some of the anecdotes of his life and the poems.
Very soon his solitary place, the Bhit, began to be visited by men from all parts of Sind, Baluchistan and Rajputana. The ruler of Sind was Kalhora Nur Mahomed, the son of Jan Mahomed, who had decapitated Shah Inayet. Nur Mahomed Kalhora feared that very soon his own followers would leave his spiritual guidance and follow Latif. The personality of Litif was very attractive, and his voice was very beautiful; and in his ecstatic moods he used to take his tamboora and sing so divinely that the hearts of men surrendered themselves to him, as they did to Mira, the divine singer of Chitor, in Rajputana. The Kalhora, Nur Mahomed, incited first the wrath of the mullas and moulvis against Latif who, though not despising the orthodox religious practices as Sufis ordinarily do, was still a man who brooked no hypocrisy in the priest or cruelty in the tyrant. He respected the dictates of the Koran inasmuch as he thought that for the beginner it was good to say prayers and keep fasts.
These are good;
But it is something different from these, by which the Beloved
is seen.
But it was impossible for the priests to tolerate him in any way, as his intellectual beliefs were quite contrary to their own. How could the orthodox priest bear with a man who said : "Satan is th eonly lover, all others are prattlers"? Of course they did not exactly treat him as Shelley, the author of Prometheus, in England was treated; that was because, in the East, the ascetic, though hated by the religionist and the tyrant, commands a very wide following.
Nur Mahomed was angered by the growing strength of Shah Latif. Once he devised a plan for his undoing. He invited Shah Latif to his palace for dinner. "The Sufi bears no malice to any"; as Latif says, "He helps those that are cruel to him." Latif accepted the invitation and was cordially received and royally entertained. After a short time Nur Mahomed left his guest alone in the chamber. Latif was prepared for anything. Very soon, a bevy of dancing girls, beautiful and fascinating, glided into the room; and Latif found himself in a charmed circle. Nur Mahomed had doubted the ascetic spirit of Latif, and by this means he hoped to entangle him in his web, placing witnesses behind, who would report the hypocrisy of Latif. But Latif was made of stronger material. The girls did their
best to tempt him but the Sufi remained firm as a rock, and they found their attempts hopeless. Nur Mahomed entered soon and smilingly looked at Latif. Latif replied in verse :
The tangle of illusion ensnares not the Yogis;
No possessions can ever charm them;
Even if the dancing girls lure,
The Yogis will pass on safe.
Nur Mahomed was naturally ashamed of himself and saw that the man before him was not a counterfeit but a true coin.
LATIF'S ASCETICISM
Latif was very soft-hearted, even as a boy. It is said that his companions used to go out shooting with bows and arrows; and while others killed the poor innocent birds, Latif merely shot at stones. This soft-heartedness is the chief cause of the Sufis' simple diet, etc. Latif and many other Sufis of Sind did not touch meat, though many modern Sufis lack that kind of discipline. He did not touch wine. His life was an ideal one. Like the ancient Sufis he used to keep chaliah, a forty days' fast, eating only a single date during the twenty-four hours with a sip of water, most of the time being passed in contemplation. All this discipline was intended to overcome the flesh, nafs. The Sufi is in no sense a Puritan, and Latif was not an exception. The man who said :
Men are angry at vice,
God is angry with me at virtue,
could never have been a Puritan. In fact, unconventional thinking and living bring many troubles on the Sufis, as, for instance, the attachment of the Sufi to music. He clings to it like a vice. Music is the one luxury he enjoys in his existence; and Latif was himself a musician, a master-singer.
About two centuries have passed away, and still every Friday night, man from various places go to the shrine of Latif to hear the hereditary singers of latif's songs, the thrilling kafis. The kafi is a special form of the Sindhi song. A large number of people sit on a carpet or a thin mat, but often on the bare ground, round a group of singers with single wire tambooras in their hands, some with earthen jars before them, drawing with brisk, dft hands ringing tones from these otherwise dull vessels. The kafi many times consists of a few sentences, but a kafi of three or four lines sometimes lasts for some hours.
The kafi is an institution in itself in which many people take part. After every line, a regular dialogue in singing ensues. One man gives a dohira, a verse from the thousands of verses, that Latif wrote; then another responds, replies in return; so on and on it goes and supplies a feast for the intellect as well as for the heart. Many are the subtleties both of love and d eep thought with which this dialogue is abundantly filled. The beauty does not lie merely in the voice and the tune, but in the selection of the appropriate verse. And thus the flow of wine continues, hours fly past, and time exists not. Latif was music mad ! It is the custom still with dancing girls in Sind and other places to consider it a part of their religious duty to go to the shrine of all known fakirs and present their mujra, song gifts. The orthodox Muslim considers music generally haram, prohibited, but the Sufi does not listen to this mandate. What is life for him without song ? It is perfectly true that an undisciplined indulgence is the cause of lax morals and, no doubt, many time corruption eats up the purity that the old Sufis demanded; but that is what happens to every good institution.
THE WORSHIP OF BEAUTY
Latif was a worshipper of beauty in sound as well as form. Beauty-worship is one of the essentials of a Sufi's creed. In fact the Sufi is the staunch upholder of the doctrine that Diotema expounded at Plato's Banquet. Just as Diotema warned Socrates the pitfalls of beauty-worship, so did Latif warn the seeker of Beauty. The love of Beauty is of two kins-love material, that is Ishk Mijazi, and Love real, Ishk Haquiki. The Sufi is asked first to concentrate on any beautiful person, male or female, boy or girl. A few years back there lived a Sufi (whom I have seen), a tall man with a noble form. He was bare-headed, and wore a saffron robe. His name was Bahram. Bahram was a beauty-worshipper, but a quiet one. At the time of the arrival of trains, in cold and heat, Bahram was invariably to be seen at the stations, standing in a corner, watching and watching, saying nothing, merely looking at beautiful faces; and then he would go away as quietly as he came. The Sufi is asked to worship the Beautiful One with utter reverence and from far. There are no doubt examples of Sufis who tried this method and never went wrong; but there are also instances where they do go wrong. It is however not essential to try this beauty-worship on beautiful persons; many great Sufis have asked the aspirants to worship the Mushid, the teacher, who is the ideal of greatness and beauty. Latif gives valuable instructions. He says that mijaz, the love of the form in the above-mentioned way, is a really dangerous method, and with great care is it to be taken up.
See not with these the eyes of flesh :
The eyes never realised the Beloved, by seeing;
They who closed both the eyes, they saw the Beloved.
Take care oh brother !
These fleshly eyes will entangle thee some day,
Give not therefore up the bird of reality.
The worshipper of the real Beauty longs not for any particular form, he se Beloved everywhere. In fact attachment to a single form is passion, while attachment to all forms and the discerning of Beauty in all forms is compassion.
Latif said:
The Beauty is absolute, there is neither being not non-being. The Beauty of the Beloved is beyond all seeing.
This great man was himself beautiful. It is strange to find that, while he lived in barren surroundings, utterly and severely austere, still in his mind he was very rich, as I shall presently try to show. This love of Beauty developed in him great pity and love, and contact with him changed the lives of many people, even of those that are called sinners. In his presence they felt the desire for the pure and holy in life.
GULAN, THE DANCING GIRL
Gulan was an extremely beautiful dancing girl. She came to offer her gift of song before Latif to whom many came with such gifts. She was a famous singer, and she sang before Latif with real fervour of heart. The holy man was much pleased, and asked Gulan what she desired. "Oh holy man !" said the girl with great humulity: "Bless me, that I may be free from this kind of life and be the wife of a good man." The compassionate Latif blessed her, and the girl afterwards married the ruler of Sind. Ghulam Shah Kalhora who proved himself to be a good king was her son. This story illustrates the real nature of the Sufi, who shrinks not from contact with people who are called sinners. Latif was the true follower of the great Master, who said : "He that is without sin amongst you, let him cast the first stone at her." It is this complete identification of the saint with the sinner, with all that is in Nature, that lifts the Sufi into ecstasy. Latif sang :
The birds, the beasts, and the ants,
Mistake them not as another's voice,
By the Beloved, all this no se is His.
Oh Fakir ! look at these flowers,
Think not they are many,
It is one.
This great poet of Sind passed away at a ripe age, leaving the fragrance of a holy life behind, a true man dear alike to the hearts of Sindhis, Muslims and Hindus.
ANECDOTES AND OBSERVATIONS
Many anecdotes are given about Latif. One day, it is said, he was meditating, rosary in hand, in a grove of trees by the village well, when at dusk two girls came to fill their water vessels. After they had filled them, they fell to gossiping; Latif had awakened by this time from his meditation. One girl said to the other : "Have you met your sweetheart ?" "A dozen times," replied the other; "how many times have you met yours ?" The former replied : "Oh sister, does one keep account of meetings with one's sweetheart ?" The two girls went away, merrily laughing, gracefully balancing the jars
on their little heads. Shah Latif had heard the latter part of their dialogue. "Ah," he soliloquised, "the simple woman with a simple villager for lover is so full of him that she keeps no accounts, while I, a lover of the most Beloved One, am here counting the beads of my rosary." He gave up the use of the rosary after this. So he sang:
Body their rosary,
Mind their beads,
Their heart is the harp,
The threads of longing sing in utter unity.
The One, the only One, is the song within,
They whose sleep is prayer
Wake even in sleep.
THE GOATS
Once the poet was standing on the bank of a canal. Some goats came running to the canal to slake their thirst. Oh, how they longed for water ! It appeared to them as if it were the sweetest thing on earth. They fully appeased their thirst, and behold what they did ! Now that their thirst was over, they began to soil the water with dirt. "AH," said Latif, "will my state be the same ? I, who seek for the Beloved, will my value for him disappear after I have met him ?"
My I seek and ever seek,
But may I never meet.
The Sufi find a subtle joy even in separation, for it keeps the memory of the Supreme ever fresh.
THE LAKE AND THE SWANS
Latif was a keen observer and his descriptions are very interesting. He loved to roam on the silent hills, to sail on the roaring waters, to be buried in the deep quiet of the forests, and to enjoy the sweet breezes of the lakes. He describes the scenes on the lakes in his own mystical way. Birds of beautiful colours and lotuses on the lake, with humming bees round them, form the objects of his study; but his observations refer invariably to some phase or the other of his great search after the Beloved. He loves the humming of the black Bhanwar that buries itself in the fragrant petals of the lotus, and Latif ponders :
The Lotus' roots in the bottom lie
The Bhanwar is a denizen of the skies,
Glory to the love that them unites.
Among the birds that gather at the lake, sometimes comes the great white one that belongs to the family of swans that are said to live on the lake Mansrover in the high Himalayas. It is a bird belved of the old Rishis. And the Sufi holds it in high reverence, as tradition speaks of its feeding on pearls and not on worms and fishes, as other birds of the lake do. Latif is disgusted with the birds that flutter on the surface of the lake and hunt for fish. These birds spoil the water by their evil habits. But the swan flutters not on the surface, it dives deep and catches at the pearls that lie at the bottom. Thus says Latif to himself :
Oh bird, why not dive deep for the pearl !
Oh why on the surface flutter !
Deep within the deep is the abode of thw swan,
He fixes his eyes in the deep.
In the aether of the heart, which Latif calls Akas, must the Sufi seek for the pearl of reality, with the mind fixed in concentration.
Oh bird ! keep not company with the birds that peck at
putrid things,
The white ones love the waters white.
Ah ! If thou wert to look with love at the swans, but once,
Never wouldst thou again live with the other birds.
Says Latif therefore :
Give up the black
Long for the white
Drink of the white that ye may be established in white purity.
Thus has always sung the mystic of all ages.
Buy terms divine, selling hours of dross; within be fed. -
SHAKESPEARE
THE SEA
The call of the sea has come to the Sufi too. Shah Latif seems to have witnessed many phenomena on the sea. He speaks of tradesmen that went from Sind to Ceylon (Lanka), specially in quest of pearls, and suffered the storms and dangers of the sea. Perhaps he himself went on such stormy voyages and saw how divers plunged deep and brought up pearls. He stands enraptured before the sea :
Where there is the roaring of the sea, where the depths are
fathomless.
And again :
Worship thou the sea, where unmeasured water flows, where
pearls abound;
Get but a tiny one, oh worshipper, brimful wilt thou be.
In order that you should get in bargain pearls,
Fill not your boat "with things that rot".
Fill it, he says, "with cardamon, amber and such lasting stuff". But "if thy stuff is only salt, expect not musk in return". "Beware ! this is the way you will lose all your capital, much less have gain." He imagines himself as a frail vessel, on the raging sea, with holes in the bottom and heavily laden with trivialities.
Captain, steer my boat aright,
This frail bark can no buffet bear,
I have stuffed it with frailties,
And they are countless too,
Bear it safe from whirling pools,
Ah ! may my vessel suffer no harm,
May no dashing waves strike my bark.
Latif says, those that "fill their boats with humility, they receive in return pearls of knowledge," and the master boatman, the noble aristocrat, leads them safe across the sea.
Lofty sails and masts anew, with oars of ivory.
A NEEDLE
Latif has remarked even the little things that escape the attention of many. He rhapsodises on the greatness of the needle.
A needle to me is more than kingdoms worth,
It clothes all the naked of the world,
Itself alone it naked keeps.
The need of service and sacrifice is also beautifully brought out; and this marvel of mystics proclaims in essence :
They soul has to become as the ripe mango fruit: as soft and sweet as its ripe golden pulp for others' woes, as hard as that fruit's stone for thine own throes and sorrows. - The Voice of the Silence.
THE MOON
Latif compares the moon with the beauty of the Beloved, and in the comparison the poor moon often suffers grievously at the hands of the poet. It is only at times that the poet speaks a word in its favour, and that when he sends it on an errand to the Beloved; but, otherwise, the moon only reminds him of the splendour of the sun.
Moon ! even with thy blandishments of the full fourteenth, thou may'st try in amny ways, not a moment wilt thou compare well with my Beloved.
Thou art bright by night,
But the Beloved is ever bright,
Moon ! It is the truth I speak,
Be pleased or displeased as thou may'st,
Two eyes thou hast, and third the nose,
But thou hast not the Beloved's brow.
THE MOTH AND THE LIGHT
Callest thou self a moth !
Then turn not back at the sight of fire,
Enter into the light of the Supreme,
And be thou the illuminated.
Ask of the mont ! what it is to burn,
They hurl themselves in fire
The flames of love have pierced their lives
Callest thou self a moth !
Come, put out this fire,
Fire has burnt many,
Burn thou this fire,
In the above poem, Latif speaks of the high stage when the seeker is not caught up by the ecstasy, but absorbs it into his own being; in fact it is nowhere outside him but is in him.
EYES RUBY-RED
What have these eyes seen ?
Gone utterly mad in the heart !
The touch of His beauty has turned them ruby-red.
Ah ! Latif says,
Now will they never sleep in rest.
POOR EYES
Now they burn as in a furnace,
And how can I control them ?
They saw the Beloved during sleep,
They did not wait to consult me,
And created troubles for themselves,
They are now fixed in utter annihilation
And the poor heart now breaks with pain !
BUT REJOICE
Rejoice ! Rejoice !
Ecstasy is with the eyes,
There is no ecstasy without eyes,
They have purchased joy
And carry it with themselves,
This state is beyond words,
Even if these eyes at a villain look,
They see him as the Beloved!
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
AT TIMES
At times He closes the latch,
At times the Beloved's doors open wide,
At times I come, no admittance find,
At times He calls, and leads me in,
At times I for a whisper long,
At times He wears me in His heart,
Such is my Beloved.
ECHO AND THE VOICE
Echo is the same voice
Only if thou knowest the twist of the sound,
Before even they were one;
In hearing only they seem as two.
THE PALACE
The palace is one, windows myriad,
Look where I may, the Lord is before me.
Myriad are thy bodies, myriads on myriads,
Life is one in every being, forms look many, apart.
Oh love, how can I speak of thy ways !
SPRING
Spring has come; pearl flowers their buttons disclose,
Sweet amber scents all around, bees hum.
I have met the Beloved, pains are over, all is happiness.
Spring has come, palms wear garlands round their necks,
Oh sister ! Rise and dress, happy spring has come.
Happy spring has come, hills exhale intoxicating airs,
Oh sister ! Rise and dress, happy spring has come.
THY HEART
Let thy heart be as a big, big tree;
Shake it, strike it , it will only scatter
Sheaves, bestow blossoms and fruits, and leaves.
Let fall the axe on it, it doth not cry nor make complaint;
It is no enemy of him who cuts it,
It harbours no ill-feeling, but provides with cool shade,
"Sissters !" says Latif, "Such hearts reach the Holy
Presence."
SACHAL
In the Native State of Khairpur, some distance from the Station Ranipur, is a village called Daraz. On the outskirts of the village is the mausoleum of Sachal. It is seen from a great distance, raising its head to the heavens. Near by is a jungle of low bushes that stretches for many miles. Excepting the distant railroad, there is not a vestige of civilisation as such. The mausoleum is a monument of art built by an old king of Khairpur who died long ago; it is the only solid construction, the relic of an old civilisation. Outside its compound is a very old, shabby and dilapidated house, in which resides the present guardian of the holy shrine; he is an old man of over ninety, with a classic face, short statured, keen-eyed, and has a benignant smile on his lips. The lod man has never been out of his village. He was a young man when the English conquered Sind but did not take Khairpur, leaving it to the Muslim Talpur. Long afterwards, the jungle silence was disturbed by the screaming of the engine whistle on the railroad, about a couple of miles distant from Daraz. But still this hoary man, though he hears at times the screeching of the engine, has up to this time not seen its face. His life is a very interesting one, and he is the living witness of the olden times before British rule. There is no sign of British rule in Daraz except the dresses of the foolwers of the fakir, who are numerous and count among them some of the highest Indian Officials, Musilm and Hindu, who come during holidays. But all these visitors, of whatever position, come and live in small thatched cottages - many of them but a simple construction of low mud walls with a covering of dry grass and a roof mat. No luxury, no modern comforts, bare floors- at best a faded carpet or a half-torn mat and the earthen vessel for water form the only furniture of the rectangular halls that accommodate any number of people on busy days. In spite of the poverty and utter lack of show the ancient man is one of the most generous-hearted men, and surprising tales of his liberality are on the lips of his devotees. Though possessed of extensive land given to his house by the rulers of Khairpur, this occupant of the Gadi who is called Sakhi, or "the generous," has been so free of hand, that he has had to pawn more than once the old carpet which adorns his "Court," and which he sends often to his guests ! The place where the fakir receives people is called the "Court," katcheri. In this court is sometimes a cot which forms the throne of the fakir, and on the floor sit, like so many courtiers, the attachees of the chief. Among them is the Khalif who is the manager of the affairs of the fakir. The court always provides excellent feasts of ancient Sufi music by singers with charming voices. The gift is hereditary, many of the singers being grandsons or near relatives of those that lived with Sachal, "the Intoxicated," when he himself sang these soulthrilling kafis for the first time.
It is, to say the least, a very interesting place; and one enjoys to the full the charming, simple life, free from all modern encumbrances. The old well in the centre of the space, ringed with cottages, never fails to give cool refreshing drinks and baths, and also supplies the sweetest of music when the age-old Indian wheel turns as it draws up water for men and for the beautiful little orchard that is in front of the house in which the Fakir lives. Thousands of men come from all over Sind to see the old Sakhi, who is supposed to be the master of miracles - which cannot be vouchsafed for. All that can be said is that the ancient man is very loving and his embrace is heart-pleasing - a pleasure he imparts to all, young and old, poor and rich.
It is a sight to see the worshippers in the shrine inside the mausoleum built over the grave of Sachal. The raised neck of Sachal's grave looks as if it were the head of a living man. The humble devotees stand, completely wrapt in the awe-inspiring influence, murmuring silent prayers before the shrine.
SACHAL'S BIRTH
In this old and holy place was born Sachal who is called "the Intoxicated," Sarmust, whose future fame Shah Latif is said to have prophesied. It is said that when Sachal was a child, the great poet passed through Daraz. The attractive boy was playing with other children. "Whose child is this little one," asked the sage. "Of the House of Daraz," was the reply. "Ah !" said Latif, "The vessel I have put on the fire : its lid will be removed by him."
Latif meant to say he would spread the doctrine far and wide. And that Sachal did. Latif is classical and deep, Sachal is more extensive. Latif dived into the deep ocean of wisdom for pearls. Sachal, like a bird, flew high in the heavens and caught the divine drops as they fell. The date of Sachal's birth is not exactly known. It is fixed between 1739 and 1757. If it is a fact that Latif saw him when young, then he must have been born before 1747, the year of Latif's death. Anyhow, this fixing of the date of birth is not of great importance to the Sufi; neither would it have disturbed Sachal who had delivered this judgment about himself :
"I am born of none, I am brought up by none."
"How did you then come to be here ?"
"I left the Heavens and came to earth"
"But why ?"
"Ah, I could not be contained in Heaven's chair."
This little one was something so vast, that he outgrew even the space of Heaven and thus he came to be. "I have no father; no mother have I." "I have come of my own free will."
This mystic was a mystic from his childhood. His forefather,
Shahabuddin, came in the early days of the Arab invasion with Kassim, when he conquered Sind. Shahabuddin was the grandson of the Khalif Umar who was called Faruki, the one who delivering justice knew the difference between right and wrong, false and true. Kasim appointed Shahabuddin as Governor of Sehwan, then known as Shivasthan. Sachal was his descendant. Among his predecessors were two holy men, Abu Sayed and Badruddin. They were true ascetics; they gave up their princely wealth and rank and took to the jungle, where they lived on a jungle grain, called duth. When the great Sufi, Bhawaldin, came to Sind with Lal Shahbaz, he came on a visit to these royal ascetics and gave them the title of Dothis.
Asceticism was in the blood of Sachal. His original name was Abdul Wahab. His grandfather was Sahib Dino whose learning had earned for him the title of Hafiz - one who knows the Koran to the letter. The grandfather had two sons, Salahaldin the elder, and the younger Abdul Hak, the slave of truth. Mian Sahib Dino was one of his great and saintly ancestors, and his house enjoyed vast influence. He appointed his younger son, Abdul Hak, to the Gadi, and compensated his eldest son by making a prophecy that he would have, instead, a son who would be a great teacher. Sachal was the son of Sahib Dino.
Unlike other saints, Sachal is said to have been a scholar. And that he surely was, for his poetry shows that he was a past master in philosophy. His book Diwan Ashkara, in Persian, was brouth out by Mir Ali Murad of Khairpur, who counted himself among the disciples of Sachal. That book is still preserved in the State Treasury, and at times a copy is available for anyone who is influential enough to get it. Sachal is said to have written very much more poetry than is to be found in the two present volumes. He sang in four different languages : Persian, Urdu-Punjabi, Siraiki (Baluchi akin to Pujabi) and pure Sindi. He knew Arabic well, as numbrous quotations from Arabic literature are found in his poems. He, like Latif, interprets Islam in the Sufi way. Like Latif he too came under the influence of the Hindu Sannyasis of the Advaita School of Shankara. There are some who go so far as to speak of Guru Gobindsingh, the great Sikh Guru, as his teacher. Sachal's songs do contain such Sikh references but that is because of his great tolerance for all spiritual teachers, and he minded not in the least to which religion they belonged. Some of his poems manifestly are on Sri Krishna and Hindu Yogis. One thing, however, is certain, that Sachal's contact with the Sikh Gurus was not insignificant, as Usuf, one of the disciples of Sachal, was called - possible by Sachal - Nanak Usuf. Nanak Usuf is known as a great saint and poet, and is said to have gone to Amritsar, the chief place of the Sikhs. All these are signs that speak eloquently of that remarkable movement of Unity. in which the great teachers, Nanak and Kabir, and these wonderful Sufis took a noble part, a part that entitled them to undying fame, and to the deathless gratitude of those that are engaged in the task of rebuilding this union.
Sachal as a youth drank deeply from the founts of Eastern wisdom both Aryan and Semitic, that is of the Arabian. The man who specifically initiated him into the path of mystery was, as told by himself, his own uncle, Abdul Haque, the holder of his forefather's Gadi. Abdul Haque seems to have been quite an extraordinary teacher, as Sachal says : "He showed me the path of heresy, (kufr), the road of denial that must precede the knowledge of truth." Indeed it would be a fascinating subject to analyse this phase of the training of the old Sufis. It is imagined nowadays that radicalism dates from the days of modern materialism; but the Sufi trod the bitter road of doubt and heresy hundreds of years ago, like his brother student of the Upanishads. Indeed, it does good to one's heart to see the sturdy intellectual fights that these simple men put up. Their method was more radical even than that of modern materialism; for not only did they not hesitate to tear out the prejudices of thought, but were equally drastic in their treatment of the feelings, the latter being the distinguishing feature which made it possible for them to develop intitution or direct knowledge. Intuition is not to be achieved by mere intellectual effort alone; though no doubt the honest intellectualist is a thousand times superior to the believer who understands nothing, but takes everything for granted.
Sachal, like his teachers, trod the same path of "hearesy". It seems, the rulers in the time of Sachal were not such bigots as the Kalhoras of Nur Mahomed's type, otherwise no doubt Sachal would have paid for his heresy with his head, as did Inayet of Sind and as did Mansur, the idolised hero of Sachal. Latif was also a radical but Sachal seems to have trodden more severely on the toes of the priests ! One cannot gather many details of his life, except that he was a very handsome man with long hair, given to the ascetic life from his boyhood; and that he did not wish to marry, but that his uncle and teacher, Khwaja Abdul Haque, pressed him to mary his daughter. Sachal had no child.
THE STORY OF THE MIRACLE
A strange story is told about him. It is said that an Amil gentleman of Hyderabad, Sind, a Hindu offical in the Khairpur State, somehow found himself in trouble with the Government. The Amils of Hyderabad as well as other Amils of Sind have always been lovers of the Sufis; and the Sufis also seem to have had regard for their devotion and intellectual acumen. The relatives of this man were favourites of the teacher, Abdul Haque, who had great influence with the Government. The parents approached Abdul Haque for the release of the son. Abdul Haque entrusted the mission to young Sachal; gave him the cap of authority and told him: "The dogs have captured the little falcon, release him from their teeth." Sachal marched out to fulfil his mission. He came to the Court of the Ruler, the father of Ali Murad Khan. He was received well and he gave his message. The officials in charge of the business did not seem inclined to release the Amil, still they were very respectful to Sachal and conducted him to see the various departments of the treasury, and specially the armoury. Sachal knew that this was a polite way of refusing the release. When they were describing the various weapons to Sachal, he asked them about the use of a special weapon that he was handling. "It is a weapon to hunt the lion with," they replied. It is said that, as they looked into the face of Sachal while giving this reply, they saw something which terrified them out of their wits. Suddenly the face of the Sufi was transformed into the face of a lion, and they desired to flee. But after a moment the same Sachal stood before them, saying with a meaning smile, "You hunt lions with this weapon !" The officials after this found it impossible to refuse the release of the Amil, and so the "little falcon was freed from the grasp of the dogs".
One cannot be dogmatic about the truth of the phenomenon; but it appears that, out of the many extravagant and exaggerated miracles described by the believers, this one does not appear to be impossible of belief. If hypnotism is possible to a superficial concentrator, why not to a master mystic, who no doubt possessed marvellous power ? Only it is necessary to distinguish between the possible and the impossible, as after all a so-called miracle is but the manipulation of forces of nature not known ordinarily. Gor instance, to say that when Shams Tabrez was being tortured the sun came down in Multan is absurd. It may be possible for a manipulator of psychic forces to concentrate the diffused rays of the sun to a point and thus produce more heat, but it is not given to a miracle-worker to displace the sun or rock the moon. Fortunately, great Sufi teachers have not attached any value to miracles, as Sachal says, "Give not thine eye to miracles." No doubt they possess these powers and make occasional use of them whenever necessary, but they do not consider them to be of spiritual value.
An incident is described as taking place at Daraz, where the present Khalif provides lots of imaginable and unimaginable tales which must always be taken with a grain of salt. The story goes that to one of these Sufi teachers, possibly Sachal himself, came one day a man who began to describe a miracle that was being performed by another fakir in the neighbourhood. He was described as sitting high above the canal in mid-air, without any support below. The speaker thought that the Sufi would be surprised. But Sachal calmly said, "These are the blandishments of a street-girl". The Sufis consider such phenomena to be merely "psychic tricks," useful in a way, but containing nothing of spirituality. Gravitation is as much a miracle as levitation. There are numerous tales given of certain miracles, said to have been performed by these Sufis; the multiplying of the loaves and the never emptying bottle are instances always in point .
Sachal lived to the good old age of ninety; his life was as austere as that of Latif. He took no meat, touched no wine, except the wine of music about which he was mad. It is said that all the instruments of music would be kept ready and, when the Fakir gave sign, the accompanists would strike the notes and Sachal begin to sing. He often would be thrown into such wild ecstasies, that his long hair would stand erect. He was a great lover and a great singer. He also travelled into the north of Sind, where his poetry is as popular as Latif's in the south. It is said he took often only black pepper with curds and nothing else. Simple barley was his diet for a long time. Thus lived this other great man of Sind, who kept to the rule of being fed within, and "without be rich no more". They let the body pine in order to increase the store of the soul. With all their ascetic habits, they did not however torture their bodies; only in the beginning was the body to be disciplined, but otherwise Sachal said : "This body is the palace of the Beloved in which are sweet gardens, abounding with fragrant flowers".
THE STRUGGLE WITH THE PRIESTS
The ruler of Khairpur being under the influence of Sachal's House Sachal was not troubled by him; on the contrary he had disciples from the royal family. Mir Ali Murad Khan, th e heir to the throne, was his avowed disciple. He was very young when Sachal lived but, even so, he accepted him as his spiritual teacher. One day the king with his son Ali Murad came to offer their respects to Sachal. They saw Sachal bathing at the well, his body wet and covered with mit (earth). The father stood off, but the son so loved the saint that he cared not about his royal clothes, but ran and fell at his feet, and the great man blessed him. Sachal was, however, greatly hated by the Makhdums of Halla, who were the hereditary religious guides of a large number of followers; some of their forefathers had been famous ascetics, but later followers lost touch with realities, took to the good things of the world and, being also large landholders, considered themselves as masters of the land. The Makhdums exist even now and are very rich and influential. In the days of Sachal, and even later, they favoured and laboured for the conversion of Hindus and Muslims. The ideals of the House of Sachal were quite opposed to this policy; and, when the asceticism of Sachal began to draw people like moths to the candle, the then Makhdums naturally disliked the Fakir of Daraz.
However, Sachal did not care but said :
This puritanical and professional spirituality is all a fraud. This company of tyrants knows nothing of love.
The poetry of Sachal contains many invectives and bitter attacks on the priests. Sachal is less restrained than Latif and cuts many jokes at their expense. He did not discard the rules of the orthodox discipline in the matter of prayers and fasts, but he attached no unnecessary importance to them and was openly inimical to outside religion.
I believe not in the outer religion,
I live ever in love.
Say Amen ! when love comes to you
Love is neither with the infidels nor with the faithful.
Look at the wonder of love.
It obliterates all religions. From Alif came Adam, after a great deal of noise; he became Hindu and he became Muslim. Mistake not ! Proclaim this ! Be thou a rose, and let them kill you as they killed Mansur. Thy first duty is to give up faith, unfaith, Islam and all religions. The lover ought never to entangle himself in religions. As long as these towers, temples and musjids be not turned into deserts so long the path of the Master can never be attained.
Again and again he emphasises this, "neither a Muslim nor a Hindu". The priests could not tolerate this, but Sachal poured ridicule upon them and caricatured them. "Look at these priests ! How sanctimoniously they read lengthy prayers merely to fill their stomachs. See how these gentlemen, with big staffs in hand, gather at the feasts; how they sit fixedly intent on dishes and fill themselves full. Still they say, `Lo ! we eat not,' while they swallow tons." Sachal says truly, clearly, that "these unclean ones wander wide." "For a trifle of bread they cry their prayers, with uncomely faces, with ugly beards, these raw ones read blessings ! To the world they boast they keep fasts, in reality they are great eaters." Sachal says this is not the path of love : different are its tales.
MANSUR
Mansur gave up his life because he refused to conceal truth; therefore Mansur is the ideal of the Sufi.
Sachal says :
Brave men speak truth
Let others like or not;
For the talk of false friendship we care not.
God Himself created truth
Mansur proclaimed truth and was sent to the gallows;
Let others bear such loads of love or not.
And again :
The tale of the Lord is true,
His lovers will die, but make it never untrue
My soul is full of joy !
May my God hear my whispers,
Let others hear or not
Such great men, standard-bearers of truth, have always met the cross; knowing the dangers of the road, still they go on. Why ? Sachal says : "Mansur could not help it. He was full of love, inebriated. Had he not given up his life, it would have only proved his love was imperfect."
BULBUL
One day I walked into a street. A strange sight met my eyes. A poor bulbul was in children's hands, its feathers tied fast with thread. It struggled hard, Moaned and wailed. I came near and accosted him : "Oh bulbul, speak ! Why didst thou leave wondrous gardens full of roses, for such a place as this ?"
The bulbul laughed and again he laughed, and thus he made reply, " Thou knowest it not !"
He that proclaimed the truth of love has ever met the cross.
This body and this life is for the Beloved,
Sachal says, and my very being !
Sachal's poetry is full of such songs in which he presents the ideal of the cross in forceful language. Truly has the heart of the bulbul, mystic, ever been crushed by unknowing men who are as ignorant children. In the first stages the mystic moans, "My father, my father, why hast thou left me," as moaned the bulbul in the children's hands. But still the mystic prefers the cross, for he knows in his heart that it is the only path to love. "Whom I best love, I cross." (Shakespeare).
THE ROAD OF DISGRACE
Oh lover ! never do a thing that gains thee praise
. . . . . .
Let the world hurl reproaches,
Earn disgrace for love's sake,
Other undertakings are useless.
Oh friend ! this is the only way to learn the secrets of the path;
Follow not the road of another, however virtuous he may be.
Rend the veil over thee,
Searcher expose thy being - Sachal.
Sachal was divinely mad.
HERESY OF THE TAVERN
Kazi burn thy books.
The Master has instructe me : "Know thyself," He said.
He taught me the path of heresy.
Some go to Kaaba, others go to Kibla,
All these things are mere pretexts.
Why should I run to Kaaba,
When my master in tavern dwells ?
Be thou divinely mad,
Drink deep the wine of madness.
ALL IS HE
The wine immortal made Sachal see the face of the Beloved
everywhere; and he too was a true worshipper of beauty. It is said something that if, when ill, he saw a pretty face and heard a sweet voice, he would get up from his bed and be in raptures. "The Beloved is come, the Beautiful One is come." Heaven knows the nature of the ecstasy in which these men lose their being and sing : "When the reality is manifest this claimant disappears." The claimant is the individuality, which disappears when the vision of the Universal is seen. He says :
When the rider on the horse vanishes, what is the state of the horse ? The horse will run and run mad, so, oh aspirants ! after "individuality," the rider, disappears, ecstasy comes.
Sachal further describes this ecstasy as "the coming in of the sea into the pitcher". During this ecstasy, says Sachal, man is transformed and says, "I am God," as Mansur did. "Oh friends, I enter into this ecstasy only at times, then I do not speak but the Beloved speaks."
Oh Sachal ! if you understand the mystery rightly, this body and this soul, all is the Beloved. In the city, in the market and in the shop His being is manifest, I swear by Allah, He Himself has revealed Himself. He can never be hid, the whole world is He. Oh Thou that art everywhere. Thou puttest on myriad appearances ! Somewhere Thou namest Thyself Hanuman, somewhere the ten-headed Ravana; at some places Thou art a decrepit old man, at other places Thou babblest as a child. Ah me ! this is all the beauty of the Beloved. To see another is the only crime. The body is also He. Adam is also He. Adam is His name, why name Him as Allah ! These my eyes have seen a wonder. In the cloud they have seen the light of the sun !
OPEN THINE EYES
Lover ! wert thou to open thine eyes and see,
The Beloved is all.
Treader of the path, thou wouldst know this garden of beauty,
Why bow to others ? Thou art the chief.
Make thyself a bulbul first; in each heart a garden see.
Beloved is all from head to foot;
Be thou only sick of "thee".
THE QUESTIONING
Sachal is a great questioner, one who questions himself, communes with himself, and he often puts the results of his examination and cross-examination in strange similes.
A MAN AND HIS COAT
A man wears a coat, does he name himself a coat ? No. He calls himself by the name he bears. The monarch sits in his palace, speaking of divine things. Is it even said, it is the palace that speaks?
Oh ! The play of the Artist is wonderful. He alone knows the full secret. I from the master learnt, "The sound and the echo are one". "Oh Sachal ! Sunshine is never apart from sun."
WHERE IS SACHAL ?
Thou callest thyself Sachal, tell me where thou art ?
Why mislead thyself knowingly ?
What is this, but head, foot and fingers?
Then why give another name ?
Thou wert never created,
Thou hast never come,
This name is not. Sachal from the beginning thou art not.
WHAT AM I ?
What am I ? Sisters ! Oh what am I ?
I am something, I know not what.
At times I think myself a marionette,
Again at times the thread that moves the kite.
Or am I a spinning ball that wheels and sounds in the hand of the friend ?
Or am I a palace in which the Emperor sits and speaks of diverse tales ?
Is it I, the horse whom the rider rides ?
Maybe, I am a wave of the sea that floods the space.
Perhaps I am the henna flower that has red inside !
Or am I the fountain filled by the clouds ?
Or am I the reflection of the sun in the pool ?
Is the reflection itself the resplendent light?
Perhaps it is I, the reflection of Reality, that which is beyond speech; it maybe even that I am not !
Sachal says he learnt it from the Master,
"There is nothing but He, He always is."
MARIONETTES
What wonders the Beloved displays through the marionette,
Ah what wondrous tales !
In His hand lies the hidden thread,
He makes it manoeuvre in many ways.
The scene-maker witnesses his own scenes.
To some marionettes he gives the ascetic's robe:
To some he gives rich coloured shawls.
He utters many notes of music sweet
And blends them all in one symphony.
They could not dance, but for the puller.
Their dance doth never cease.
To one marionette he gave the name Sachal,
Who dances rapt in song with the clapping of the hands !
ILLUSION
All is illusion. The world is a mere make-believe.
The Universe is but a moment.
Sachal ! It is the play of the Actor.
THE TWO HOUSES
What a pity! What a pity !
I am sorry indeed.
What was I there,
And what am I here ?
A king I was there indeed,
I know not, how here I became a slave;
In that country I was all wise,
Here I am named a fool.
Alas! The waves hid the sea, and raging storms did blow,
Thus I earned shocks of pain.
Ah I see ! I left one house to come to another;
But the wave in the sea rebecomes the sea.
This poor Sachal in every moment finds a new surprise.
HERE AND THERE
Who was I there,
What am I here ?
There I had another name,
Here I am called differently.
I was not to come here
But some desire carried me away.
There I was in the Beloved's State,
Here I came to be a lover.
There it was all peace, neither noise nor trouble,
Here I am immersed in anxious thought.
Ah Sachal ! why misconceive ?
All is Truth, only let go this "I".
In these two poems "The Two Houses" and "Here and There" Sachal seems to be describing the state of the soul before it comes to birth, comparing it with the present miserable stage. "There" is the land of light, where the waters of life are in a state of homogeneity and the atmosphere is full of peace, the soul is a king dressed in the resplendent robes of "Hiranyagarbha" in the Heaven world. But behold ! a sudden wave of desire seizes it again, and the waters are agitated. The wheel of desire creates storms, the light of knowledge becomes dull and darkness abounds, so the poor soul comes to a birth; but the memory of the wondrous state at times inspires him. The mystic, as he progresses on the Path, intuitively catches
these glowing visions and consoles himself, when in distress, with the certain hope that he will go back to his native state, as the wave that rises in the sea rebecomes the sea.
THOU ART NOT A SLAVE
Think not thyself a slave,
Thou art the Lord of the land
In slavery there is no safety
Thou thyself by thyself in beauty,
Thou art the all-knowing He
Why cry Allah ! Allah!
Know thou art Allah
Says Sachal, o this there is not a whit of doubt
THOU ART MATCHLESS
Misconceive not ! Thou art not man,
Thou art the bulbul that warbles in the garden hid.
The angels bowed themselves in reverence to thee,
Even thy dust was valued high
Who makes this Duldul(the horse of Hassan) move but His divine Majesty ?
Thou art Ahad - the Infinite
Why call thyself Abad-the slave ?
Sachal speaks the simple truth,
There is none like thee.
HE WAS WITH ME
He for Whom I sought the readers of the stars,
Behold ! He was with me.
He for Whom I sought the Oracles,
He was with me
He for Whome I ran on many roads
He was with me
He is not a guest, but the Dear One is always with me:
None is so near as He.
He for Whom I passed sleepless nights,
He was with me
I looked for Him here, I looked for Him there,
But looked not for Him in my own being
He for Whom I shed tears of separation,
He was with me.
I looked for Him here, I looked for hime there,
But looked not for Him in my own being.
He for Whom I shed tears of separation
He was with me
Oh Sachal ! Seek not far, know thyself
He for Whom I was gathering presents
He was with me.
THE WONDER STATE
Listen ! I speak of thesecret,
It was a Wonder-State
There was no creation, nor was there a human shape
I was immersed in a Wonder, deep, lifeless and bodiless
The waves were also with me
It was all a dashing of the light, non being was not in sight;
Nor was non-being contained in breath
He Himself loved Himself
Spirit only was (The hint in the Holy Book, "I am")
Neither this, nor that,
Neither prayer nor contemplation
Neither mind nor life
Neither pleasure nor pain;
It was all Wonder, It was all Truth, It was all Peace.
Oh Sachal! This is the Holy Secret.
THE CANDLE AND THE SUN
None lighted the candle to see the sun,
All light is of the sun
They understood this and saw the sun
Many and the one are the same, as drops are of the rain
The Master thus spake through him called Sachal.
THIS AND THAT
Believe and act as I say
Be "That," thou shalt have the wine
In "This" is death
In "That" thou shalt find life eternal,
The "Thou" that will remain
Thou wilt be free from decay
Leave speech, leave body, listen with the heart
In the Assembly wilt thou merit win and be proved true
When thou givest up thy "Thee".
