Early in the 18th century the greatest saint in Sind was Makhdum Niamat
Ullah, the father of a still greater religious luminary, the famous
Makhdum Nuh. So renowned was Makhdum Niamat Ullah that an ancient fakir
more than a hundred years old and known as La Ikhtyar or the
Independent One was so affected by the stories told of the saintly
Makhdum Niamat Ullah, that he gave up his independent life and went to
Torio in the Hala taluka on the chance of seeing the object of his
admiration. Torio was not Makhdum Niamat’s usual place of residence,
but La Ikhtyar had had a vision that it would be at Torio that he would
see the Desired One.
After some weeks Makhdum Niamat Ullah did go to Torio on business and
passed La Ikhtyar, as he sat on his cot. At once the old fakir
recognised the passer-by from the radiant glow on his countenance. The
fakir got off his cot and made the saint sit on it and knelt at his
feet. But as Makhdum sat, the fakir’s tame birds of which he had a
large number suddenly flew away. The saint asked the reason and was
told that he would be the father of a son who would love to shoot
birds. When the fakir’s pets learnt this, they had flown away in
terror. After bidding the fakir goodbye, Makhdum Niamat Ullah walked
into the bazaar. As he passed a Hindu’s shop, the owner’s wife fell so
desperately in love with him, that she begged him to take her away from
her husband and marry her. The saint could not stoop to such
wickedness; but to get rid of her importunities, he promised to fetch
her away that very night. He left her and went to take a siesta in the
shade of a high wall, some streets away. As he slept, a certain Amin,
the chief of the Lankas, passed by on his way to Lower Sind. He had
with him a comely marriageable daughter, who at once fell in love with
the sleeping saint. Amin woke up Makhdum Niamat Ullah and offered his
daughter to him in marriage. The saint gladly accepted the offer and
was married to the beautiful girl the same evening. Next morning the
Hindu woman saw the saint and going up to him, reproached him for not
keeping his tryst. The saint explained that he was now a married man
and must cleave to his wife. He, however, blessed the amorous Hindu
lady and nine months from that very day, she presented to her husband a
son called Zabhar.
On the same day as Zabhar was born, the wife of Makhdum Niamat Ullah
presented her lord with a son, the celebrated Makhdum Nuh. Even as a
tiny baby, Makhdum Nuh shewed his precocious saintliness. When only six
days old, he compelled the fakir La Ikhtyar, who was his devoted slave,
to go through the ceremony of becoming his disciple. The fakir lived
until his infantile preceptor was five years old; then he died at the
ripe age of 106 and his tomb may still be seen at Old Hala. His
reputation for independence has survived him and many persons who are
in difficulties still visit his tomb and ask the Independent One for
his advice.
Makhdum Nuh took to the Koran, as the proverbial duck takes to water.
At the age of seven he knew the mighty book by heart. At the age of
fourteen he was vouchsafed a vision of no less a personage than Mahomed
himself. As Makhdum Nuh was washing in the river his slate on which he
had written some lines of the Koran, he saw a boat approach. In it were
the Prophet, his son-in-law Ali and Huzrat Isa or Jesus. The boat
stopped and the Holy Prophet called Makhdum Nuh by name. The boy went
up to the boat and Jesus took his slate and wrote on one side of it
fourteen lines. Then Ali took it and wrote on it eighteen lines and the
boat glided away. The astonished Makhdum Nuh took his slate to his
teacher, who found that what was written on it far transcended even his
understanding. He asked his pupil what hand had written the lines.
Makhdum Nuh told him about the three strangers in the boat; thereupon
his teacher guessed what had happened and embraced the boy, as one to
whom the Prophet had vouchsafed a vision.
Makhdum Nuh became when he grew up, as prophesied by the fakir, a great
bird-shot; but he also worked many and mighty miracles. His most famous
achievement was connected with the great mosque at Tatta. This mosque
had been built at a cost of many lakhs of rupees by the orders of the
Moghul Emperor. When it was completed, the faithful noted with dismay
that it did not correctly face the Kaaba. This was too dreadful for
words; for unless a mosque faces the Kaaba properly, it is useless. The
faithful, too, of Tatta had been bragging loudly to their neighbours
about their future mosque and they now would be exposed to their
mocking laughter. The faithful of Tatta appealed to Makhdum Nuh. He
called to his aid another holy man Ali Shirazi and they assailed Allah
with continuous and soul-compelling prayers. At first nothing happened
and the faithful began to murmur discordantly at the failure of the two
saints. “But verily” as the Koran has it, “some suspicions are as
sins.” Another half hour’s steady prayer and the great edifice began to
quiver. Makhdum Nuh then called on all true Musulmans present to tie
ropes to the building and pull it round; and lo! and behold! under the
combined pressure of the prayers of the saints and the pushings of the
faithful, the great mosque turned round slowly and then stopped dead.
It had come to face exactly in the true direction of Mecca.
Even a man so holy as Makhdum Nuh could not escape from the malice of
mankind. He had two great friends Muzaffar and Salar. Salar had
promised his daughter in marriage to Muzaffar’s son. Unhappily a
quarrel broke out between these two eminent men and Salar refused to
give his daughter. Now in Sind marriageable girls are few and this was
a home thrust. Muzaffar complained to Makhdum Nuh, who after hearing
both sides ordered Salar to keep his promise. Salar obeyed, la mort
dans l’âme; but he vented his spleen by cursing the said saint in the
following quatrain:
“O Makhdum, you have done an act not pleasing to God; You have set
at nought what God had ordained.
You will suffer by having your corpse put in three different places
after your death.”
The curse of this impious blasphemer was unhappily fulfilled. The river
Indus twice threatened the spot where Makhdum Nuh had been buried. The
second time the river approached so rapidly that the disciples had to
remove their master’s body in broad daylight instead of at night, as
was seemly. Heaven, however, came to their help. As they began to lift
the body from the grave, the sky became overcast and a mist as thick as
a London fog spread over the land, so that none could see the decaying
remains of one who in life had been strong and beautiful. The saint’s
body found its last resting place about two miles to the west of Old
Hala. A small town has sprung up round the tomb and is known as
Murtazabad. A beautiful mausoleum now stands over Makhdum Nuh’s grave
and the cupola over it was erected in 1795 A.D. by Mir Fateh Ali Khan
Talpur. On the tomb were engraved the following words in order to
silence possible slanderers of the dead man:
“If the wind were to blow furiously all over the world
It could never extinguish the lamp of those accepted by the Most
High.
Men who spit on a lamp, lit by Almighty God soon find that they
have in their folly, set fire to their own beards.”
According to my chronicler, these lines had an excellent effect. They
were the proper stuff to hand out to the back-biters.