Whimbrel
(Numenius phaeopus) is a large shorebirds. They have a long, dark bill that
curves downward like a crescent, the genus name, Numenius, means
"of the new moon". The bill is well suited for probing soft mud for
small crustaceans and pulling fiddler crabs from its burrow. It’s a migrant
from northern hemisphere and is quite common in the coastal region of the
peninsula, found this one at Mararikulam beach (Kerala). Extremely vary of
human beings therefore often act as a sentinel species as they are the first to
alert the other birds to danger.
Sarmad Shaheed, the
beloved naked fakir: I swim in the sea of disobedience but I do not drown
Why
do you wander in the wilderness
Looking
for Him?
Sit
still. If He is God
He
will appear on His own
Sarmad Shaheed was a fakir who was close to Dara
Shikoh (“my master and preceptor” was how Dara addressed him) and therefore was beheaded by
Aurungzeb with the active connivance and guidance of the mullahs –who saw him
as a threat to their orthodoxy. Irony here was that Sarmad was but only a fakir
who didn’t posses anything nor any desires, indeed he had even shed his cloths
and roamed naked, that he was much liked by common people and his views
cherished reflects the subtle nature of society. “There can be no
denying the fact that he has played a very important part in molding and
shaping the spiritual thought and evolution of India” (Dr. Zahurul Hassan
Sharib). His popularity was
the reason that the ‘mighty’ mughal king Aurungzeb had to seek religious
reasons to behead him. Mullah Qawi was sent to Sarmad to investigate the reason
for his nudity. The Mullah asked “Despite your wisdom and knowledge why you
have chosen nakedness?” Sarmad answered, “What can I do? The devil is qawi on me”. He recited
My
tall Beloved has dwarfed me
His
wine cup eyes have snatched my senses
He
is in my arms, yet I seek him
What
a strange thief
He
has stripped of my garments
That was enough to make the mullah furious, Sarmad
had cleverly used his name to invoke devil as also taken potshot at moribund
interpretation of Islam. Mullah rushed back and informed Aurungzeb that he has
now evidence for death sentence and was about to issue the fatwa that Aurungzeb
stops him, realizing the weakness of evidence. Sarmad was not an ordinary
person to be dealt so routinely, whole of Shajahanabad had become his devotee, accordingly
it was decided that he appear before a gathering of elders and wise.
Aurungzeb was the first to interrogate, “People say
that Sarmad predicted an empire of Dara. Is it true?”
Sarmad’s reply was characteristic of him, “Yes my
prediction proved true. Dara Shikoh was crowned king in the empire of eternity”.
Aurungzeb thought nudity to be not fit enough cause
for execution and wanted him to recite the verse, aware that Sarmad only
recited the first part i.e. ‘La illah’ which meant denial of god. Sarmad
maintained that he is still at the stage of ‘no’ and haven’t yet realized ‘yes’
and therefore cannot say what is not risen from within. Accordingly he was
ordered to be executed for blasphemy and was dragged through the streets. As
the executioner moved his sword, it is recorded that he smiled and looked
straight into the executioners face and said
Come
O
come, I implore you!
In
whatever guise you come
I
know you well
I
was reading Sarmad Shaheed by Maulana
Abul Kalam Azad (written in 1910 he used two major sources Miratul Khayal by
Sherkhan Lodhi and Riaz-ul-Shuara by
Ali Quli Valeh Daghistani as reference) as also Rubaiyat of Sarmad (translated by Syeda Saiyidain Hameed). Maulana
Azad’s is an excellent piece of writing, exceptionally nuanced and elevating,
it was a pleasure reading even the translation. Clearly he was quite an evolved
mind but I find his narrow reference of Sarmad to Islam (indeed pride) rather
stifling, it is clear that Sarmad is beyond religion, the fact recognized by
Azad but I sense he makes attempt to place Sarmad into tight jacket of Islam,
as an ‘prime example of Islam’s all encompassing scope’. There is an
unnecessary attempt at pamphleteering, ‘universal benediction of sun of Islam’
so on. As a necessary retort, I submit that Sarmad would not have been possible
without influence from diversity and somewhat chaotic form of thoughts, and
liberation herewith, that forms ‘hindu’ society.
The grave of Sarmad is located in the spot where he
was executed, next to the Jama Masjid. Abul Kalam Azad quotes Daghistani that people
heard sounds from the severed head of Sarmad and that it recited remaining two
syllables ‘Illalah’ thrice, and even praised the god. Azad has an interesting
take on this, he writes “Today people may not give credence to oral tradition,
and it is biographer’s duty to separate tradition from history, but we are not
surprised at this eyewitness record. If one should not, in principle, listen to
hearsay, one should atleast see the fact as they are. During the spring we have
often seen flowers conversing. During the fall we have heard the dry desolate
branches whispering to one another. It is therefore, no great wonder that the
lips of Sarmad’s severed head were seen in motion” What do say to that?
Whatever romanticism one may have but this is a blatant attempt to twist the
‘facts’ to the requirement of religion. It is quite clear that Sarmad denied
god as defined by religion, and to confine him into something defined as a
religion is a mistake. It is shocking that Azad (whose birth anniversary is
celebrated as National education day) attempts to put words in the mouth of
severed head (I am sorry but it sounds as ridiculous as pushpakviman as
precursor to aircrafts) to justify his own wonderful versions. This kind of
nonsense is not going to be tolerated, I am going mild considering that this
was written in 1910. There are other crazy versions to the aftermath of
execution, one says that he carried his own head down the steps of Jama Masjid while
another says that the body picked up its own head which recited the Muslim
affirmation of faith the kalima-i taiyaba ("There is no god but God, and
Muhammad is his Prophet") and then proclaimed to the crowd, "Ana
al-Haq" ("I am Reality, I am one with God"), however compelling
these maybe but I don’t think I will be delving in these fertile hocus-pocuses.
For common people Sarmad becomes a martyr, a
Shaheed. His legacy lives on. “…Nay, they are living, only ye perceive not” says
the inscription on his tomb. Like Dara Shikoh, Sarmad too was sought to be
expunged from annals of history, it is therefore not surprising his grave, a
much revered sight for common people, lies in congested slum next to the
imposing Jama Masjid –the site where he was executed, sandwiched by another
imposing structure –the tomb of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad (India’s first
education minister, the one I referred in the earlier paragraph), irony here is
Abul Kalam has written quite extensively on Sarmad. Sarmad Shaheed’s tomb lies
near a lone neem tree in the congested Meena Bazar, there is no proper
entrance, you have to walk into and through a dilapidated tea stall, a short narrow
alley and you come across vivid Red and Green tiled two adjoining tombs. Kwaja HareyBarey’s
tomb as the name suggests is green in colour, while Sarmad is bright blood red
signifying his fury and martyrdom. To know that his stature as a poet is often
mentioned along with Firdausi, Saadi, Hafez, Jami and Omar Khayyam makes the
squalor surroundings and neglect poignant. While I was here many people were
seen sitting around the tomb in reverence, irrespective of religious
affiliation or other such nonsense. Kissing his tomb was a cherishing moment for
me too.
Who is
the lover, beloved, idol and idol-maker but You?
Who is the beloved of the Kaaba, the temple and the mosque?
Come to the garden and see the unity in the array of colours.
In all of this, who is the lover, the beloved, the flower and the thorn?
Who is the beloved of the Kaaba, the temple and the mosque?
Come to the garden and see the unity in the array of colours.
In all of this, who is the lover, the beloved, the flower and the thorn?
According to the
majority of sources, Sarmad was an Iranian Jew, who converted to Islam, it is though
widely accepted that he
had a universalistic notion of religion, seeing no conflict between his Judaism
and the esoteric truth of the Sufi path he adopted. In his poems Sarmad asserts
that he is neither Jew, nor Muslim, nor Hindu. He undoubtedly had
a deep dalliance with Hinduism (as is reflected in some of his couplets),
clearly he had grown beyond the hold of religions. A fakir lives in spiritual
realm.
He dwells not only
in temples and mosques --
The whole creation is his abode.
The whole world is bewitched by his tale,
but wise are those who are lost in his love
The whole creation is his abode.
The whole world is bewitched by his tale,
but wise are those who are lost in his love
He moved along
with his hindu lover, a boy who had a melodious voice and sang the moving
verses composed by Sarmad. Sarmad would break into ecstatic dance soon these
would acquire spiritual dimensions.
He and I are
one, like the word and its meaning.
Behold union in separation, like the eye and vision.
Not for a moment is He separate from me --
Behold us together everywhere, like flower and fragrance
Behold union in separation, like the eye and vision.
Not for a moment is He separate from me --
Behold us together everywhere, like flower and fragrance
They
wander from Sind to Lahore then Golconda to Agra and finally Delhi
(Shahjahanabad, what is now Chandni Chowk-Daryaganj region) at Khwaja
Hareybarey. Soon he gained immense popularity among common people. He was
stridently against the orthodoxy of mullahs and misery it created for common
people “In the shadow of great mosques does evil prosper”. For the Mullah, Islam was a set
of stern and inflexible laws, for Sarmad, it was nothing but a message of love.
In the meanwhile, Sarmad in his discussions with Dara, contributed
to din-i ilahi, an idea of “Divine Religion”, something that was initiated by
Akbar.
He who understood the secrets of the Truth
Became vaster than the vast heaven
Mullah says “Mohammad went to heaven”
Sarmad says “Nay, heaven came down to Mohammad”
Sarmad
brought the complex sufi believes into the restrictive matrix of rubayi with
great precision, intensity and economy. These translations –even
transliteration, will definitely miss that intensity and accompanying force of
the language…
Aitebar-e-wada hai mardum-e-duniya ghalat
Haan ghalat, aaray ghalat, imshub ghalat,
farda ghalat
Nushka-e-beenai-e-deewan-e-umr-e-ma mapurs
Khat ghalat, maani ghalat, insha ghalat imla
ghalat
It is wrong
Certainly wrong, wrong today, wrong tomorrow
To trust the promises of this world.
Do not ask
For the manuscript of my story,
Erroneous spelling, erroneous calligraphy
Mistaken meaning, mistaken style.
Az fazl-e-khuda hamesha raahat daaram
Ba naan-e-javin qanae-o-himmat daaram
Nay beem ze duniya-o-na andesha-e-deen
Dar gosha-e-maikhana faraghat daaram
By the grace of god,
Have I always been content.
From a loaf barley bread
I have drawn strength.
Afraid neither of the world or religion,
Sitting in the corner of the tavern
I am free !
Shaah-e-shahanaim zahid choon tu urian
neestam
Shauq-o-zauq-e-shorisham lekin pareeshan
neestam
But parastam kafiram, az ahl-e-imaan neestam
Su-e-masjid meerawam, amma muslamaan neestam
I am the king of the kings
O sheikh! Not naked like you,
I love madness, dynamism but I am not
distraught
An infidel, an idolator,
I am not one of the pious.
I am going towards the mosque
But i am not a muslim.
From my scribble pad…
Enter the Now
Listener
of the rain beholds what the rain doesn’t
Incessant
prattle becomes in a sense a rhythm
Of
lives that flows out from every being
And
the way as it is in the non being
The
rain comes distinct as a drop
And
all the world is clear
In
a way as nothing is
Situates
the self
A
presence
Now
(I
really don’t prefer the above, its bit contrived to get the effect of reducing
words in each line to get the feel of entering. Quite flamboyant for my liking,
nevertheless I am putting it in the blog as it isn’t all that bad an effort
further it’s kind of structurally different, creepy but there is some novelty)
Road rage
This
much is sure that the roads meet
At
the sidewalks and the congested bylanes
Don’t
have corners.
The
resurrected tree is alive.
And
so is the stale air that assail nose, and noses
Filling
in strange sort of feeling
That
makes blood curl
And
go for the jugular
Of
the offender
Or
someone who fits in the role