Part 6

Crooke says of Baba Farīd, that he was called also, Shakkarganj, or Fountain of Sweets. Shakkar being the Persian for sugar; but more probably from the Arabic word “Shookur,” thanksgiving. He was a disciple of Qutub-ud-din, who lived near Delhi, who again sat at the feet of Imam-ud-din of Ajmere, also a great name to swear by. Baba Farīd is said to have had the “Hidden hand” (dast-i-ghaib), a sort of magic bag which gave him anything he wished.

Every devotee who contrives to get through the door of his mausoleum is assured of a free entrance into Paradise, and the crowds are immense.

Pak Pattan was called the “Ferry of the Pure One,” and the latter days of Farīd-ud-Din were spent at Adjudhan, a very ancient city in the Punjâb. This Fakir was instrumental in the conversion of the whole of the Southern Punjâb to the faith of Islam.

_Note._—The self-inflicted penances of both Hindu and Mahomedan Fakirs are well known, but perhaps the “Measurement Affliction,” or “Kusht,” from the Persian word “Kusht,” meaning “killing,” will be new to some. It consists in making an approach to the shrine from a considerable distance, and measuring that distance by so many lengths of the body, foot after head, until the shrine is reached. But few can go through this extreme torture in the sun, and then only with the assistance of relatives and friends, who supply sherbet and drinks to the devotee, and keep his body cool with fans.

_Note._—In relation to this Folk-tale, it is said in the district:

Burri jungul ki wassar Burri khullachnee nââr Burri moorick ki hassa

There are three things that are bad:

Perpetual seclusion in the jungle; A quarrelsome and peevish wife; The rough horse-play of a boor.

THE FARMER AND THE REVENUE SOWAR.

You all know that in certain parts of our country the farmers are in the habit of shifting their hamlets from time to time, according to the seasons.

In winter time they go to live in the big villages, and in the summer they dwell in the fields near to their crops.

One summer-day a Farmer was ploughing his ground, which was situated not far from a “kuburistan” or burial ground, and a Revenue Sowar came up and accosted him, and asked if the Farmer would direct him to a village where the people were altogether, in order that the rents might be collected. “The only place that I know of,” said the Farmer, “where they keep together, is in that place,” pointing to the burial ground. “This,” said the Sowar, “is no answer, sir, to my question. What do you mean?” and roundly abused the Farmer, and struck him with his “chabūk” or whip.

“Well,” said the Farmer, “it is quite true; whenever anyone goes to that place he never moves again, but we farmers always move from place to place, according to the seasons.” The Revenue Sowar was a little impressed by his attempt at wit, and was about to ride off, but overhearing the Farmer saying something audibly, he listened, and these were his words:

Hurri thi mun bhurri thi Motian se jhuri thi Rajah ji ke bâgh men Dushalla orêe khurri thi.

TRANSLATION.

It was green and full And set with pearls. In the Rajah’s garden She stood, and was covered with a shawl.

The Sowar said to the Farmer, “I overheard what you were repeating, but what can possibly be the meaning of it, for it is a riddle surely, so please enlighten me.”

The Farmer replied, “I gave you one piece of knowledge, and you became angry and violent; however, I will return you no ill-will, so here is the answer to take away with you.

“Don’t you see that it refers to the ‘Bhūtta’ or ear of the ‘Indian corn’? Its stem is green, its grain like pearls, and its covering sheath like a beautiful shawl.”

Farmers, you see, have their bits of wit; and then he added to the Sowar:

“Sow gullân thay hait hullânh.”

“I may tell you one hundred tales, but all are inferior to the ‘plough,’ for by it the State gets its revenue, and the people are supplied with food.”

The Sowar left him, and went away impressed with his quickness and mother-wit.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Sowar._”—In former days it was usual in Native States for those responsible for the Land Revenue to send round “Sowars” or horsemen, to prepare the farmers for the arrival of the tax-gatherers.

_Note._—The Mahomedan Sowar of that day was presumed to be very scrupulous in adhering to the truth, and to say everything in exact accordance with that which is, has been, or shall be. “How can I do otherwise?” said one Sowar, “when my Prophet sets me the example?” Asked to explain, he replied:

“Once Mahomed was riding on his ass, and was accosted by a ‘perdêsi,’ or stranger, who asked him how many legs his donkey had. Mahomed dismounted, counted, and replied, ‘Four.’ ‘Could you not have told me,’ said he, ‘without dismounting?’ ‘No,’ replied Mahomed. ‘Who was to know whether, while I was talking to you, Allah might not have given him either one leg more or less?’”

“_Chabūk._”—A Persian word for a whip, hence “Chabūk-Sowar,” a jockey, literally a whip rider.

“_Bhūtta._”—This is from the Hindustani language, and means the Maize, or Indian corn (the Zea Mays). It is one of the noblest of Grasses, of which perhaps the Japanese variety is the most handsome.

MŪLTĀN AS HOT AS FIRE.

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.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Shams-i-Tabriz._”—To this day the Shrine of this saint is to be seen in Mūltān. He lived in the time of the Emperor Shah Jehan, who had a passion for building tombs and palaces. The well-known “Taj Mahal” was erected in his reign, A.D. 1627 to 1657.

This tale can hardly be classed as “Folk-lore,” but it was given as tradition, and it is interesting as indicating the element of superstition which has come to be embodied with what is actual matter of fact.

Shams-i-Tabriz was a Sufi philosopher, and the leader of Jalal-ud-din, and tradition says that he was flayed alive at Mūltān.

The Sufi doctrines are well known both in India and Turkey, and are followed to this day, and they rest all their system of morality upon the practice of Divine love, and the Fakirs are their exponents.

Sufis have laid down the following rules for their disciples:

Hear, attend, but speak little.

Never answer a question not addressed to you, but if asked answer promptly, and never be ashamed to say “I know not.”

Do not dispute for disputation’s sake.

Never boast before your elders.

Never seek the highest place, nor even accept it if offered to you.

Do not be over ceremonious.

Observe in all cases the etiquette appropriate to the time, place, and persons present.

In indifferent matters conform to the practice and wishes of those with whom you are associating.

Do not make a practice of anything which is not either a duty or calculated to increase the comfort of your associates, otherwise it will become an “idol” to you, and it is incumbent on everyone to break his “idols,” and renounce his habits.

(See Hughes’ “Dictionary of Islam.”)

It has been said by Major Osborne in his “Islam under the Khalifs of Baghdad,” that the spread of this Pan-theistic spirit has done harm to the Mahomedans; and that the true function of religion is to vivify and illuminate all the ordinary relations of life with light from a Higher world. The weakness to which religious minds are peculiarly prone is to suppose that this world of working life is an atmosphere too gross and impure for them to live in. They attempt to fashion a world for themselves where nothing shall soil the purity of the soul, or disturb the serenity of their thoughts.

“_Tabriz._”—Is the chief town of the Persian province of Azerbijān, or as some call it Adebaijan, the ancient city “Media Atropotene,” so called from Atropates who after the death of Alexander made himself independent. Mount Ararat rises on the N.W. border, or as the Persians call it “Koh-e-Nuh,” or Noah’s Mountain.

“_Bhāgpūr._”—Bhāg is the Sanscrit for “destiny,” and Pūr is the Sanscrit for a City, as also is Pūra.

“_Sultān._”—This is the Arabic title for a King or Emperor, but sometimes is applied to saints and martyrs, as for instance, Sultān Surwar, an eminent Mahomedan Saint whose shrine is at Baluch, not far from Mūltān, and who was distinguished for his purity of manners. At his tomb it is narrated several miracles were performed. (See “Araesh-e-Muhfil.”)

It may be added here that several sayings are attributed to Shams-i-Tabriz such as the following:

Badshâh noonh bheek mangâwânh Mangla noonh takht Bahâwânh Pul vich “oolut pullut” kurr sathân Dhun Hookum merah sirdahi dhâh

TRANSLATION.

Kings I can bring to beggary; Beggars I can place upon a throne. In a moment I can dissolve all things; For mine are the orders of supremacy.

Burton says that the people of Mūltān slew him in order to keep his body with them, but we can trace no local tradition as to this.

SHĀITĀN AND HIS SAVAGE WIFE.

Once upon a time “Shāitān,” or the Devil, who, as we dwellers in India know, has the power to transform himself into man or animal whenever it pleases him, one day took it into his head that he would go round the world in the garb and appearance of an ordinary traveller; and so admirably disguised was he, that one day he visited one of the villages in the Punjâb, and finding two men seated at one of their places of meeting, or “Hûzrâhs,” talking and smoking their “hookah,” he approached them as if to speak.

Believing him to be some traveller wearied by his journey, the two young men asked him to sit down, and then they offered him a smoke and a drink of water.

As they were talking and chatting, they heard a great noise in the village, and suddenly they saw a farmer who was being pursued and beaten by his wife. The young men recognised the woman, and at once said to the stranger, “We know the character of that wretched woman; she is worse than ‘Shāitān’ himself.” Whereupon “Shāitān” said, “No! there I cannot agree with you, for how can any woman be more hateful than ‘Shāitān,’ who is the accursed one, and wears on his neck the necklace of evil?”

The young men said, “Well my friend, if ever you get married, and have a wife like that woman; you will remember what we have said, and you will then think her not merely as wicked as ‘Shāitān,’ but a thousand times worse.”

After taking some refreshment he pondered over these words, and bidding them “salaam” “Shāitān” went on his way.

It was some little time after this when “Shāitān” did take unto himself a wife, and as it happened, she turned out to be a most violent woman, and used to abuse and maltreat him on every occasion, and would even go so far as to kick and beat him and torture him in a variety of ways.

Their youngest and best child was a son, and she would even chastise him, and if the father remonstrated or interfered with her, he would always come in for a large share of her ire and abuse. When “Shāitān” had pondered over the sad plight he was in, his thoughts reverted to the saying of the young men in the village, and he said to himself, “Tobâh! Tobâh! Oh tush! fie! why certainly this wife of mine is worse than the woman in the village, yes a thousand times worse.”

Now this son began to grow up a bit of a demon in nature, and as time wore on, it was necessary that he should be given something to do, so his father one day called him aside and said, “I want you to hear some advice from me,” but the son replied, “I know you are my father, but I could never be advised by you, for you are ‘Shāitān,’ and you never did give good advice to anyone.” “That is true,” said the father, “but though I know it is my way to give bad advice to all, I could not do so to my son: come to me at all events, and hear what I have got to say,” “Say on!” replied the son, “and I will listen.”

“You know,” “Shāitān” said, “how you and I are maltreated by your mother, so that life is wellnigh unbearable to both of us: now, my advice to you is that you go on earth as a ‘Hakīm,’ or doctor.”

The son replied, “I know nothing of medicine, and how could I be a physician?” “That is of no consequence,” said his father; “you do as I tell you, and all will go right. When, for instance, you are called to see a patient, as soon as you enter the room, the first thing you do should be to look at the head of the bed or ‘charpai,’ (literally a sleeping place with four legs, ‘char’ meaning four and ‘pai” legs, in Persian). Should you see my shadow there, you should at once say to the people of the house, ‘Do not I pray you spend any more money on the patient, for he is sure to die.’ The people will then say, ‘What a marvellous doctor is this, for he tells us before-hand that he knows the patient will die, and will not receive any fees!’ By this means your fame will become great all over the country.

“But if you should not see my shadow at the head of any patient’s bed, then you should prescribe any simple thing which is known to the common people round about, and of course you will know from the absence of my shadow that the patient will get well, and your renown will go on increasing in this way.”

The son listened to this counsel, and, thinking for a little, he said, “Very good! I agree,” and it was not long ere he began to practise his profession amongst men. True enough, in an incredibly short space of time his fame became noised abroad, and he found himself in an extensive practice.

One day it happened that the Nawab of the country where he was, had a near relation very ill, and hearing of the skill of this doctor, he sent off servants and horses and carriages to bring the doctor in great pomp to the Palace.

Thither he went without delay, and he was received by the Nawab at the door of the Palace, and after they had partaken of sherbet and had smoked a “hookah,” the Nawab showed the way to the room where the sick relative was.

The Hakīm, or doctor, followed very thoughtfully and anxiously, and he kept cogitating to himself, “I sincerely hope that my father’s shadow will not appear to-day over the bed-head of this most important patient, for it is everything to me that it should not, and that the patient should recover.” He was taken along passages and corridors, and at last they reached the room where the sick man lay, and to his horror there was the shadow and no mistake, and he almost collapsed on the spot.

After sitting a while near the patient, feeling his pulse and asking questions in the usual way, he requested all persons to quit the room, in order that he might be alone with the patient for a little while.

All this time he was thinking to himself how he could possibly expel and get rid of the shadow, this father’s “shadow” which now stood between him and his fortune; when all of a sudden the thought rushed in upon him, “I know what I will do!” So raising his voice to its highest pitch he shrieked out, “Father! Father! Mother is coming!” Whereupon the “shadow” vanished with one rapid jump, and never again returned.

As the tale runs, the patient got quite well very shortly after this, and the Hakīm was advanced to high honour and position in the dominions of the Nawab.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Shāitān._”—From the Hebrew word “Shuttun,” to be hostile; hence the Arabic “Shāitān,” opposition. According to Mahomedan tradition, he has four lieutenants, viz., Muleeqa, Hamoos, Nabloot, and Yoosoof.

By some he is known as “Iblis” from the Arabic word “despair,” and the wife of a “Shāitān” would be termed “Bhutnī” in Sanscrit. In Persian the leader of evil is called “Ahurmun,” (Burhān-i-kāti), or the evil principle.

Crooke classes “Shāitān” with Jinn, or Genii. Divided into the Janii, who are the least powerful of all, the Jinn, the “Shāitān” or devils, the “Ifrit” and the “Marīd,” or rebellious ones, the last of whom rule the rest, Jan is sometimes identified with the Serpent, and sometimes with “Iblis,” which has been imported direct from the Greek “Diābolos.” Some have wings and fly; others move like snakes and dogs; others again like men. (Vide “Folk-lore of Northern India.”)

Dennys, in his “Folk-lore of China,” says that the belief in the existence of demon monsters is in full force in China. One of the Emperors who flourished about A.D. 700, having been taken ill, dreamt he saw a blue half-naked demon coming into his Palace.

He stole the Empress’s perfume bag, and also the Emperor’s flute inlaid with precious stones, and flew off with them to the Palace roof. Suddenly there appeared another blue devil, but of giant stature, wearing a black leathern high boot on one foot, the other being bare, and he had on a blue gown. One arm was like his foot bare, with which he wielded a massive sword. His mouth was like that of a bull. This fierce-looking monster seized the little one, and with a blow made an end of him. The Emperor asked this monster demon what his name was. He said his name was “Tsung Kivei,” and that he was a Colonel Commandant over all imps, ogres, wraiths, hobgoblins, and the like, under heaven. The Emperor was greatly flattered at the visit, and awoke to find his illness gone. He called a painter to paint for him what he had seen, and it was so faithfully executed that he ordered two hundred ounces of gold to be given to him, and that copies of the painting should be distributed through the Empire, so that all the people might know and respect this blue bull-headed demon. To this day he holds a conspicuous place in the temples of the people. According to other tradition the name of the wife of “Shāitān” was Aw-wa, and she bore him nine sons, and their names are given in Burton’s “Arabian Nights,” but as Crooke says, which of these was the worthy of the text does not appear.

“_Tobâh! Tobâh!_”—From the Arabic, meaning penitence; when coupled together it carries the signification of “Oh fie! I promise to sin no more.”

“_Sick room._”—It is usual in the native palaces when anyone is sick to have men waving a fan and a “chauri” over the head, to drive away evil spirits who may be fluttering in the air, as well as to act as a preventive to further disease. They are often seen in the hands of attendants upon the gods. “Chauri” is the Hindustani for a whisk or fly-flapper of hair.

“_Hookâh._”—The Hookâh as shewn in the illustration is the Indian pipe and apparatus for smoking. The tobacco, or in the Hindustani language, the “gurakoo” is put into the tobacco holder or “chillum,” and the smoke is passed through the water in the Hookah and becomes cold and purified. The flexible tube which conveys it to the mouth is called the “naicha,” and the mouth-piece is of silver or amber. Hookhâs were much improved in the reign of Akbar.

SAKHI, THE GENEROUS MOSLEM.

In a certain village in the Punjâb there lived a long while ago, a very charitable old Mahomedan of the name of “Sakhi,” which being interpreted from the Arabic tongue means “liberal.” This faithful and patient old Mussulman was famed through all the country round for his repeated deeds of charity, and he was visited by many mendicant folk, who profited not a little from his kindness and hospitality.

The result of all this almsgiving was that in the end, he himself became very poor, or as the native translation more nearly renders it, he “became as dry as a fish baked in the sun.”

One day, as the tale goes, two Fakirs, “Kallundars,” or begging monks as they are sometimes called, were on their way to Mecca to perform that pilgrimage which is obligatory on every devout Moslem once in his life, and on their way thither they had to pass through the village in which “Sakhi” resided, so they made up their minds to pay him a visit, and obtain his blessing on their journey.