In my last chapter I related how the saint Udero Lal and his disciple
Phugar, after diving into the Indus near Nasarpur, came to the surface
between Rohri and Sukkur and landed on a rocky island. The island is
still there and bears on its rounded back a temple to Zinda Pir.
According to the Hindus Zinda or the living Pir is none other than
Udero Lal. According to the Musulmans he is somebody quite different.
According to the Musulmans, the river Indus flowed once past Alor and
not past Rohri. Somewhere in the tenth century A.D. a Hindu king called
Dalurai ruled at Alor. He and his brother Sasu Rai practised every kind
of abomination. Such were their wickedness and their vigour that they
enforced the jus primae noctis on every young lady, who was married
within their dominions. On one occasion a pious Musulman merchant named
Shah Hussein was going down the Indus, so that he might sail from its
mouth to Arabia and visit Mecca. With him journeyed his beautiful
daughter. On the way they stopped at Alor and the beauty of the
merchant’s daughter was noised abroad and reached the ears of King
Dalurai, who instantly demanded that she should be sent to his palace.
But neither Shah Hussain nor his daughter had any wish that she should
become the concubine of a Hindu king. They both prayed fervently to
Zinda Pir. He appeared in a vision to the young girl and bade her and
her father board their boat and weigh anchor. They did so and the
stream at Zinda Pir’s command, changed its course and leaving Alor,
brought the boat and its burden to Rohri. When Shah Hussain awoke next
morning, he was close to Udero Lal’s island. To it he moored his boat
and built the temple, that stands there to this day. On it are the
words “Darga Ali.” These give the date 341 A.H. or 961 A.D.
The above tale explains the foundation of the temple but it does not
tell us who the saint himself was. Earnest Christians will hear with
surprise that he is none other than their old friend the prophet
Elijah. They will probably exclaim with Molière’s M. Géronte “Mais que
diable allait-il faire dans cette galère?” It was this way. According
to the Islamic legend, Elijah was in a former life a very holy man
indeed, named Balya Ebn Malkan. Because of the colour of his garment,
he was also known as Al Khisr or the Prophet of the Green robe. Balya
Ebn Malkan was the contemporary of Moses and in Chapter 18 of the Koran
we find him going with Moses on a most interesting circular tour. The
story is shortly this. Once the great Jewish sage was preaching to his
people with such wisdom and eloquence that at the close of his sermon,
they asked him whether there was any man in the world wiser than he
was. Conscious of his great powers, he replied in the negative. That
night God appeared to him in a dream, rebuked him for his vanity and
told him that his servant Al Khisr was wiser than he was. Moses asked
where he could meet this paragon of wisdom. God answered that Moses
would find Al Khisr near a rock where two seas met. If Moses took a
fish with him in a basket, the spot where he missed the fish would be
the place where the prophet of the green robe dwelt. Moses took Joshua
and a fish with him and in due course missed the fish and found the
prophet. Moses asked leave to be Al Khisr’s disciple and to learn his
wisdom. Al Khisr answered that if Moses came and suffered all that Al
Khisr did without asking any questions he could be his disciple, but
not otherwise. Moses promised to do so and the two prophets went to the
sea shore and boarded a ship. Al Khisr at once made a hole in the
bottom of it. Moses indignantly asked whether he wanted to drown every
soul on board. But his companion sternly reminded Moses of his promise
and left the ship. A little later they met a youth. Al Khisr struck him
so violently on the head that he died at once. Moses angrily asked why
he had taken an innocent life. Al Khisr again rebuked him and went his
way to a city. There they saw a crumbling wall which the citizens could
not repair. Al Khisr touched the wall with his hand and it became as if
it had been newly built. Moses asked him why he did not claim from the
citizens a rich reward. Al Khisr then turned on his unfortunate
disciple and cast him forth. “Three times” said Al Khisr, “you have
broken your promise and questioned my acts. You are not worthy to be my
pupil. I made a hole in the ship to save it from the king’s men. Had it
been seaworthy, they would have taken the ship by force and given the
owner nothing. I killed the youth, because although the son of true
believers, he was himself an unbeliever and I feared lest he should
corrupt the faith of his parents. I repaired the wall for nothing,
because hidden under it was a treasure, which a righteous man had
buried there before he died. He left two orphan sons and it is God’s
will that when they reach man’s state, they shall find their father’s
treasure.”
During Al Khisr’s existence as Balya Ebn Malkan he found and drank the
waters of immortality. That was why as Elijah he did not die, but was
transported to heaven in a fiery chariot. And because he drank the
waters of immortality, he is always connected with running water; and
with what nobler stream, could he be associated than the Indus, as it
passes through the Sukkur gorge?
To-day the special duty of Zinda Pir is to help the Indus boatmen when
in distress. His functions are thus similar to those of the ancient
Dioscuri, of whom Macaulay wrote:
“Safe comes the ship to harbour
Through billows and through gales
If once the great twin brethren
Sit shining on the sails.”
The Indus is terribly dangerous in July and August, when the mighty
river swollen by the melting snows of the Himalayas comes tearing and
tossing through the gorge. So one who has seen the Indus in flood can
never forget the sight. It is then that the boatmen pray to Al Khisr.
To attend more closely to their prayers, Al Khisr comes in person to
his temple and for forty days sits in a little niche specially reserved
for him. The niche has comfortable cushions and in front of it is laid
a copy of the Koran. The saint is invisible, but the mujavars or
attendants of the mosque or temple know that he has been there; for
when the forty days begin they place in front of the niche the Koran
open at the first page and when the forty days are past, they find the
Koran open at the last page. Elijah has in his leisure moments read the
Koran from cover to cover.
ABDUL LATIF, the Author of SHAH JO RISALO.
Abdul Latif’s grandfather Shah Karim was a Sayad of Matari and so
celebrated for his piety that his mausoleum at Bulree in the Karachi
District is still the scene of an annual fair. Shah Karim was born in
1558 A.D. and died it is said in 1660 A.D. The tale runs that while
Shah Karim was yet a boy, he met a fakir in a mosque. The fakir had
been a soldier, but the awful consequences of war had so preyed on his
mind that he had deserted the army. Shah Karim became the spiritual
follower of this fakir and grew up so renowned a saint that it was
commonly said that whereas Bahawaldin, a rival saint, could make a live
man dead, Shah Karim could make a dead man alive. Shah Karim removed to
Bulree and had three sons, one of whom Shah Habib was the father of
Abdul Latif, the subject of our article. The date of his birth is to be
found in the Persian line on his mausoleum.
Gardeed mahw ishk wujoode Latif Meer.
(The spirit of the lordly Latif was absorbed in love).
According to the Abjad system, this gives the date of his death as 1751
A.D. As he was sixty-three when he died, he was born in 1688 A.D. He
thus lived to see the establishment of the Kalhora dynasty, the
invasion of Nadir Shah in 1739 and that of Ahmad Shah Durani in 1748.
Abdul Latif fell in love with a beautiful Moghul girl, the daughter of
one Mirza Beg. He was said to be a descendant of Mirza Jani Beg of the
Turkhan dynasty, whose tombs are among the Makli Hills. Abdul Latif
serenaded the lovely girl in verses written by himself, until he was
ordered off the premises by her father. Undefeated, he turned himself
into a pigeon and cooed his love to the fair maiden from the trellis of
her balcony. Even so Mirza Beg with a father’s vigilance pierced his
disguise and threatened to set his falcons on Abdul Latif, unless he
flew away. The unhappy Abdul Latif went and sat on a sandhill and
watched the house of the Moghul girl with such devotion from afar, that
the sandhill grew round him until it had covered all but his head. A
goatherd Jam by name who passed saw his head sticking out. He told
Abdul Latif’s father, Shah Habib, who had his son dug up. But Abdul
Latif was still beside himself with amorous passion. He went to a
carpenter and induced him to hollow out a tamarisk tree, that stood by
itself in a cemetery. Latif got inside the hollow tree and looked out
on the world through a single cleft. In vain Shah Habib sought
everywhere for his son. At last his lamentations touched the heart of
the carpenter, who shewed him his son’s hiding place. Shah Habib took
his son home, but an evil fate overtook the carpenter. As a punishment
for betraying Abdul Latif’s hiding place, he became a leper. Shah Habib
licked the sores, so that they healed, all save one obstinate one that
remained open on his forehead.
Abdul Latif did not stay long in his father’s house, but began to
wander about Sind. One day he came to Lakhpat. There he saw some Sami
fakirs worshipping an idol, probably of Parvati. They were pouring milk
over it and as they did so, they repeated “O Grandmother, drink this
milk.” But the idol being of stone, hearkened not at all. Latif went
into the village, bought a bowl full of milk and stood close to the
idol. In one hand he held his shoe and then he said to the idol “O
Grandmother of the Samis, drink this milk or I shall beat you with this
shoe.” The idol no longer hearkened not. Terrified at the threat, it
drank up all the milk in the bowl. The Sami fakirs were filled with
wonder and envy. After Abdul Latif had left the spot, they plotted to
kill and eat him, so as to obtain his supernatural powers. They invited
him to a feast, intending to make their guest the principal dish. But
Abdul Latif by his inner knowledge guessed their wickedness and
departed.
As he journeyed he met another fakir, whose beautiful face was haggard
and worn, as if with care. As the fakir walked, he cried always “Jhal
fakir, Hal fakir (Take it fakir, go fakir).” Abdul Latif asked him why
he did it. The fakir refused to tell him, unless Abdul Latif promised
to help him to win what he sought. “If,” said the fakir, “I win my goal
through your help, I shall get you a Burat or letter of salvation.” The
saint gave his promise and the fakir told him what ailed him. Some
months before he had met a jungle tribe and had daily begged from them.
Whenever he did so, a lovely maiden of the tribe had given him alms and
as she gave them, she repeated these words “Jhal fakir, Hal fakir.” The
beauty of the girl’s voice and face had burnt into his brain. When the
tribe left, he could think of nothing but of her and he set out to seek
her. As he went, he repeated her words in the hope of finding her.
Abdul Latif by his inner knowledge soon located the jungle tribe. With
the fakir he went to their camp and began to recite to them his verses.
They were so charmed with the verses that they asked him to name his
reward. He told them to send the lovely girl to the hut wherein he had
put his humble belongings. The girl was sent and in the hut the fakir
awaited her. Their eyes met, but the storm of passion that swept over
both of them was too mighty for their strength to bear. They fell back
lifeless into Abdul Latif’s arms. He called the girl’s parents and told
them the tale of the fakir’s wooing and its tragic end. At his request
the man and the maiden were buried in the same grave. That night Abdul
Latif watched by the grave, for he had not yet received the Burat or
letter of salvation. At midnight a woman’s hand rose from the grave and
offered him a letter. But Abdul Latif doubted the virtue of a Burat
that came from a woman. “I shall not take the Burat,” he said, “unless
he who promised it to me gives it.” The girl’s voice answered that that
was impossible. The fakir for very shame, she said, dared ask nothing
from God. He had not been able to hide his love but to the whole world
had told his sorrows. Her love had been as ardent as his, but she had
had the strength to hide it. It was at her request that God had given
the Burat and the saint must take it from her hands.
Another time Abdul Latif went to Kotri and there exposed the impostures
of the Mullas who surrounded the governor Lalla Beg. At their
instigation the cruel ruler ordered Abdul Latif to be impaled and then
cut to pieces. When the executioners went to Shah Latif’s house to
seize him, they found him already dead and dismembered. As they
returned to tell Lalla Beg, they saw the saint standing in the roadside
alive and well. They spoke of these marvels to Lalla Beg, who at once
remitted the sentence.
Abdul Latif, before he started on his wanderings, had, because of his
unsatisfied love for the Moghul girl, cursed the whole tribe of the
Moghuls, who then lived in Sind. All this time his curse had been
quietly working. One by one they had died off, including the
hard-hearted Mirza Beg. Of all the Moghul children only one boy Gulla
by name survived and the beautiful girl, whom Abdul Latif loved. Freed
from her father’s cruelty by his death, she no longer hesitated but
sought out and found her lover. With her she took her kinsman Gulla.
Abdul Latif overjoyed at her coming recalled his curse and Gulla lived
to be the ancestor of many Moghuls thereafter.
Abdul Latif, or as we should now call him Latif Shah, did not settle
down to enjoy his wedded happiness at Varsum, where Shah Habib had
lived and where he himself had been born. Near it was the tomb of an
earlier saint Nuh Halani. The jealous spirit of the dead saint envied
Latif Shah’s happiness and glory. Nuh Halani’s spirit haunted Shah
Latif night and day. In despair Shah Latif sought the aid of Bahawal
Hak, a holy man of Multan. He advised him to consult Sayad Mahmad
Massum Shah. The latter in turn advised him to migrate to Bhitta, then
a desolate mound of sand. Latif Shah obeyed the Sayad, but even at
Bhitta—tantaene animis caelestibus irae—he was not safe from
persecution. Nuh Halani changed the spirit of a former disciple into a
huge snake and bade it bite the unhappy Shah Latif. But the latter
prayed to Sayad Mahmad Massum Shah and with his aid and his own
sanctity, he tamed the snake and kept it in a cage, as a trophy of his
victory. Nuh Halani’s descendant Makhdum Mahmad Zaman could not bear
the sight. He redeemed the snake at the cost of a vast stretch of
country and turning the snake again into a spirit, sent it back to do
service to Nuh Halani in the house of Hades.
“Happy is the wooing that’s not long in the doing,” is an old English
proverb and perhaps it was of the long delay in the union of Shah Latif
and his bride, that they were not blessed with children. Two legends
are told to account for this calamity. One is that Shah Latif drew
after him the son of one Jani, who in anger cursed the saint that his
wife should bear him no sons. Latif Shah accepted the curse and
consoled himself with the remark that his disciples were his sons. The
second legend is that Latif Shah’s wife, a year after marriage, was
expecting a child. After the manner of women in delicate health, she
had strange longings. One day she sent her maid-servant to a great
distance to get a certain kind of fish. Latif Shah missed the
maid-servant and asked whither she had gone. On learning what had
happened, he flew into a rage—if I may say such a thing of so holy a
man. He cursed his unborn child, saying “If the child gives all this
trouble now, what terrible trouble it will give when it is grown up!
May such a blossom be nipped in the bud.” The child was still-born and
no other came to soothe the poor mother’s grief.
It was at Bhitta that Shah Latif wrote the Shah jo Rasalo. When he had
finished it, his two faithful disciples Tamar and Hashim brought it to
him. As he read over the lines in which he had told the sorrows of
Saswi, he exclaimed that the verses did not truly convey a spiritual
meaning, but were full of sinful passion. As he said this, he flung the
great work into the Kirar Dandh, a lake close by. His horrified
disciples beseeched him to let them write the Shah jo Rasalo from
memory. Reluctantly he consented and the Shah jo Rasalo was saved.
Shah Latif died in 1751 at the age of 63, three years after Ahmad Shah
Durani’s invasion. The saint’s body lies in a splendid tomb designed by
a celebrated mason of Sukkur, under the orders of Ghulam Shah Kalhoro.
The door with silver bars was added by Mir Mahmad and a deep well for
the use of pilgrims was sunk in the courtyard by one Laung Fakir. The
Pir of the tomb is the descendant of Jam the goatherd, who found Shah
Latif buried up to the neck in sand. Every Friday night pilgrims keep
watch by the tomb and sing passages from the saint’s immortal poem.
This custom had its origin in a dream dreamt by his disciple Hashim.
After his master’s death, he was ill of fever and could not get well.
One night Shah Latif appeared to him in a vision and bade him recite on
the following Friday some lines from the Shah jo Rasalo. He did so and
was cured.