There was once a Fakir of the name of Shams-i-Tabriz, his first name
being that for “Sun” in the language of the Persians, and his second
being that of a great city.
This Fakir was a very noted man, and wherever he went to reside the
people flocked to see him, and he collected in every place a large
number of followers and disciples.
His fame was spread abroad far and wide, and he lived so long ago that
it was about the time of Shah Jehan, the Emperor of Delhi.
His custom was to visit the Shrines and sacred places of various
countries, and one day he made up his mind to go to Mūltān. Now, when
the Fakirs of Mūltān heard that he was approaching their city they
became much alarmed, and concerted together to keep him out of the
place, for fear that many of their disciples should run after him, and
forsake them.
They arranged, therefore, to send a messenger to meet “Shams,” and when
the envoy came to greet him just outside the city walls, he filled to
the very brim, with milk, a brass cup that he had in his hand, and then,
addressing himself to “Shams,” he said, “As is this cup full to the brim
with milk, so is Mūltān choke-full with Fakirs, and there is no room for
you there, and I am deputed by all the Fakirs so to tell you.”
“Shams” then turned about him, and noticing a jasmine flower growing on
a bush hard by, he plucked it, and using great care he managed to
balance it on the top of the milk without spilling a drop out of the
vessel. “Now go,” he said to the messenger, “and tell all the Fakirs
that as the flower was above the milk, so will “Shams” be over all the
Fakirs of the city; yet he will not disturb them, even as you see the
flower has not upset the milk.”
So off went the messenger and gave the message to the Fakirs, and they
then hastily called a meeting of their disciples, and gave command that
no one should give “Shams” aught to eat, nor prepare or cook any food
that he might bring with him.
On reaching the city “Shams” found to his dismay that he could obtain no
sustenance of any kind from the people, and though he besought many of
them, for pity’s sake, to save him from starvation, the reply was always
the same, “We would do so ourselves, but are in fear of the Fakirs.”
At last when almost perishing with hunger, “Shams” went to a butcher,
who so far relented that he gave “Shams” a piece of meat, but refused to
cook it for him.
“Shams” in despair then turned his eyes to the skies and made a bitter
appeal to the Sun, saying, “You are ‘Shams,’ and I am ‘Shams’; we are
both called the Sun, so I beseech you to come to my aid and cook for me
this piece of meat, that I perish not with hunger.”
In a moment the Sun heard his request; and lo! and behold! he approached
nearer to Mūltān by a spear and a half’s length, and the meat was cooked
by the greater heat, and the hunger of the Fakir appeased.
Owing to this remarkable heat, the occurrence of which the Fakirs and
people attributed to “Shams,” they all came and asked his pardon, which
he readily granted, but declined to alter the position of the Sun over
the city; so Mūltān has remained, from that day to this, the notoriously
hot place that it is known to be.
It is celebrated, said the narrator, for four things: its heat, its
dust, its beggars, and its graveyards; and this Mūltān has had three
names already, viz., Huss-pur, Bhag-pur, and Mūltān, and will
eventually, before the end of the world, be called Trah-pur Sultān.
“Shams” continued to remain in the city, gathering together numbers of
disciples, and eventually died there. A magnificent tomb was erected to
his memory, which may be seen to this day.
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