Work of RUMI
Work of RUMI
Work of RUMI
by
AFZAL IQBAL
With a Foreword by
Professor A. J. ARBERRY
Edition: Sixth
March, 1991
Quantity: 1000
PUBLISHED BY:
Pakistan National Council of the Arts,
Block 6-C, Markaz F-7,
Islamabad.
Ph:810160, 822932
ISBN 969-450-050-8
46-PNCA-9 l-Culture-9
KHALIDA
WHO IS NO MORE
Contents
Publisher's Note xi
Foreword, Professor A.J. Arberry xiii
Preface xv
Introduction xix
A Portrait xxvii
Select Bibliography
Index
From the Publisher
The sedate and serene territories of Indus
Valley, which were preordained to constitute Pakistan,
have a unique distinction of witnessing an era
completely dominated and overwhelmingly influenced
by a galaxy of great mystic poets. From Karachi to
Khyber they transformed a nation intrinsically
immersed in deep sense of belonging to Him, and to
return to Him some day. Wedded by their eternal bond
they have withstood the test of time, and have
submitted to the will of One — the most Merciful.
AMAR JALEEL
March 1,1991
Foreword
Jalal-ud-din Rumi has been described by Professor
E. G. Browne as 'without doubt the most eminent Sufi
poet whom Persia h a s produced, while his mystical
Mathnawi deserves to rank amongst the great poems
of all time'. Professor R. A. Nicholson on completing
his masterly edition and translation of that work
remarked that 'familiarity does not always breed
disillusion. Today the words I applied to the author of
the Mathnawi thirty-five years ago, "the greatest
mystical poet of any age", seem to me no more than
just. Where else shall we find such a panorama of
universal existence unrolling itself through Time into
Eternity?' Sir Muhammad Iqbal, who many times
acknowledged his indebtedness to the great Persian
visionary, stated that 'the world of today needs a
Rumi to create an attitude of hope, and to kindle the
fire of enthusiasm for life'.
These are but three of the many tributes that have
been paid to Rumi's greatness, which is acknowledged
as much in the West as in the East. It is therefore all
the more surprising, and regrettable, that until the
publication of the present volume no attempt has been
made to write for t h e general public a biography and
aesthetic appreciation of the man who enriched
humanity with such splendid and massive contribu-
tions to literature and thought. Indeed, until the
appearance a few years ago of Professor Badi al-
Zaman Farozan Far's Persian study of Rumi, no such
work had been produced in any language.
Fortunately this lamentable neglect has now been
repaired with the issue of Afzal Iqbal's The Life and
Thought [now Work] of Maulana Jalal-ud-din Rumi.
The author of this excellent monograph describes it
modestly as 'a critical introduction'; it is an introduc-
tion that does tardy justice to the great man whom it
presents to the reader. Mr Iqbal has read deeply the
extensive writings of Rumi, and what others have
said on the subject in ancient and modern times.
While his approach to the poet is sensitive, and h i s
aesthetic analysis most delicate, he displays acute
powers of scholarly criticism in discussing the dif-
ficult problems that surround Rumi's biography. I
recommend this book warmly; i t is a pleasure to read,
and it holds the key to further delight for those many
who will be encouraged by it to study further the
immortal poetry of Rumi.
A . J . ARBERRY
P e m b r o k e College
Cambridge
Preface
It was in the early fifties that I started writing this
book. I was then in Tehran and had an opportunity of
learning at the feet of Professor Farozan Far who was at
that time considered the greatest authority on Maulana
Jalal-ud-din Rumi. The work was by no means easy.
There is ample material in Persian but it requires all
the patience one can command to sift the grain from the
chaff. The early chroniclers seem intent on clouding a
man's personality by investing him with a halo of
mystery.
In English one comes across numerous references
to Rumi among works on Persian mystics. But even
Professor R.A. Nicholson, who devoted a lifetime to
completing his masterly edition and translation of
Rumi's Mathnawi, has not had time to produce a
critical study of the life and thought of Rumi whom he
rightly considers 'the greatest mystical poet of any age'.
It was under these circumstances that I set myself
the task of producing a biography of Rumi for a modern
student of literature. The synopsis was simple. The
study started with a description and an analysis of
conditions obtaining in the thirteenth centry, the period
during which Rumi lived and worked in Persia. The
idea was to create some kind of a perspective for Rumi's
personality. The attempt at placing him properly in his
milieu was original in that no other study of the poet
offered this background. And yet without this basic
information I found it hard to understand and
appreciate the vital role that Rumi played in moulding
the human material around him.
After providing a brief outline of the relevant
currents in the thirteenth century, the study proceeds to
analyse, in the second chapter, the formative period of
Rumi's life. This phase, though devoid of the
spectacular, is significant in that it provides a key to the
coming events. In this chapter one sees glimpses of
what Professor Arberry describes as 'acute powers of
scholarly criticism in discussing the difficult problems
that surround Rumi's biography'. His very date and
year of birth is in doubt, but having questioned some old
assumptions, we have refrained from fixing dates for a
number of events in Rumi's life. The research
continues and hasty conclusions are not called for.
The third chapter begins with the appearance of
Shams-i-Tabriz and lasts, with all its attendant
revolutionary results, until the death or disappearance
of the man who completely transforms the life of Rumi.
The period of intellectual activity during which the
medium of expression was prose, is followed by a period
of love and lyrical activity, during which the medium
of expression changes into poetry. Rumi's i s perhaps
the only example in the history of literature where a
man devoted to prose suddenly bursts forth into poetry
in his middle-age and becomes the greatest mystical
poet of any age.
The fourth chapter deals with the product of this
revolutionary change, viz. the lyrical poetry that flows
with such power, beauty and abundance over a period of
s i x t e e n years of i n t e n s e spiritual turmoil. The
disturbance settles down at last and disappears around
A.D. 1261 when Rumi begins the monumental work of
writing the Mathnawi. And now starts the period of
poetry with a purpose, the phase which saw Rumi make
his immortal contribution, which was later acclaimed
as the Qur'an in Pahlavi. This period has been briefly
dealt with in the fifth chapter which sums up the
message of the Mathnawi.
From this summing-up emerges the next chapter
which deals with Rumi's thought. The seventh and
final chapter, which could well be an appendix to the
main study, deals with portions of the Mathnawi whose
translation has not hitherto been available to the
English reader. Professor R. A. Nicholson, while
translating the full text of the Mathnawi into English,
rendered some hundred lines into Latin, for he thought
they were 'scarcely fit to be translated' into English.
Frankly, Professor Nicholson, a Victorian, was
projecting his own prejudices in censoring verses
which in his view were exceptionable. In the process he
denied the reader an opportunity to judge for himself.
The final chapter makes the expurgated portions of the
Mathnawi available to the English reader for the first
time.
The book has seen six editions. It is considered by far
the most authentic work on the subject today. It is
indeed very different from the first edition which came
out from Lahore in 1956. The book has already been
translated into Urdu in Pakistan, and is being rendered
into Turkish in Turkey. In the Muslim world, we hope
it will be read with some interest by those who are
concerned with the spiritual predicament of the modern
man, for 'the world of today needs a Rumi to create an
attitude of hope, and to kindle the fire of enthusiasm for
life'.
AFZAL IQBAL
Rawalpindi, Pakistan
1 March 1991
Introduction
Maulana Jalal-ud-din Rumi needs no introduction. For
seven hundred years now his verse has inspired
millions of men. Jami, the celebrated Persian poet,
hailed him as a saint who was not a prophet but had a
Book. The Mathnawi has been known for centuries as
the Qur'an in Pahlavi. With the possible exception of
Lucretius in the first century B.C., h e is the only
major thinker, throughout history, to express an
entire s y s t e m of t h o u g h t in verse w h i c h h a s an
a e s t h e t i c merit of its own.
The s u b l i m e h u m a n i s m of Rumi fired the i m a g i n -
ation of m a n k i n d long before t h e West discovered
t h e d i g n i t y of m a n . D a n t e w a s a y o u n g boy at t h e
t i m e of Rumi's d e a t h . The great h u m a n i s t of t h e
West, Petrarch, came a full century after him; and
E r a s m u s followed h i m two and a half centuries
later.
H e g e l considered Rumi as one of t h e g r e a t e s t
poets and t h i n k e r s in world history. The t w e n t i e t h -
century German poet H a n s M e i n k e saw in Rumi
'the only hope for t h e dark t i m e s w e are living in'.
The F r e n c h writer Maurice Barres once confessed,
'When I experienced Mevlana's poetry, which is
vibrant with the tone of ecstasy and with melody, I
realised the deficiencies of Shakespeare, Goethe and
Hugo.
In Turkey, Iran, India, Pakistan and Afghanistan,
Rumi is honoured as a saint, a sage and a seer. In
contemporary England, Professor R. A. Nicholson
t r a n s l a t e d the Mathnawi into E n g l i s h and
characterised Rumi as 'the g r e a t e s t mystic poet of
a n y age'. A n d y e t he c h a r g e d h i m w i t h obscenity.
W e are not u n a w a r e of s o m e W e s t e r n O r i e n t a l i s t s
who have levelled a similar charge against the
Qur'an. Professor Nicholson denied the reader an
opportunity to judge for himself because he
translated the few verses from the Mathnawi, which
h e t h o u g h t e x c e p t i o n a b l e , into Latin. So far as is
k n o w n , t h i s is t h e first a t t e m p t on t h e part of a n y
s t u d e n t of R u m i to d e a l w i t h t h i s a l l e g a t i o n a t a
l e v e l of s c h o l a r s h i p . For t h e first t i m e also, p a s s a g e s
s i n g l e d out for censorship by N i c h o l s o n are b e i n g
m a d e a v a i l a b l e to t h e d i s c e r n i n g reader, w h o will
j u d g e for himself.
AFZALIQBAL
Stockholm,
14 A u g u s t 1 9 7 5
(ii)
There is hardly a published work in English, Urdu
or Persian which has escaped my notice in this field
and I must say that Afzal Iqbal's is the first attempt of
its kind which will be looked upon as a milestone in
the literature on Rumi. No other work in my knowledge
offers a study of the life and thought of Rumi with
such critical detaill and careful percision..The author
who, I am surprised, has been able to find time despite
his multifarious duties to undertake a work of such a
monumental nature, is to be warmly congratulated on
the labour of love, the chastity of taste, his scrupulous
care in verifying of facts and his success in resisting the
temptation to succumb to exaggerations. The Indo-
Pakistan subcontinent has never lagged behind any
country in its service to the Mathnavi and its
distinguished author; but Afzal Iqbal has carved out for
himself a path which is all his own. I hope he will
cintinue to traverse his path with the same fervour and
devotion
Daryabad, Barabanki.
16th October, 1955.
(iii)
Jalalu'd-Din Rumi, is admittedly one of the great
poets of Persia: his diwan of lyrical poetry and his
Mathnawi are equally immortal. When the great Sa'di
was asked which was the best poem existing in the
Persian language, he selected a lyric of Rumi's; and as
for the Mathnawi the Persians call it the Qur'an i n
Persian. Western opinion is equally favourable. "The
Mathnawi," says Prof. R.A. Nicholson, "is a majestic
river, calm and deep, meandering through many a rich
and varied landscape to the immeasurable ocean; the
diwan is a foaming torrent that leaps and plunges in
the ethereal solitude of the hills." Now, as the chief
contribution of Persia to world-culture is her poetry, if
Rumi is one of the great poets of Persia, he becomes,
ipso facto, one of the great poets of the world;
nevertheless, neither the Persians among whom Rumi
was born, nor the Turks among whom he lived and
died, nor the Europeans among whom he has found
many translators and interpreters, nor the Indians who
have been assiduously cultivating the Persian language
for a thousand years, ever attempted an exhaustive
monograph on the thought of Rumi: Agha Firuzan
Far's fine work deals only with the Life of Rumi; and
before Prof. Nicholson could give to the world a critical
exposition of Rumi's poetry and philosophy, death had
stayed his hands! And so for various reasons, our
knowledge of Rumi remained incomplete; and it
redounds greatly to the credit of Mr. Afzal Iqbal that
following in the footsteps of such masters as Whinfield,
Browne, Nicholson and Firuzan Far, he should have
produced a work of which it may be truly said: 'Age will
not wither nor Time stale its infinite variety.'
Mr. Afzal Iqbal proceeds systematically, He first
gives the historical background for "no study of Rumi so
far had tried to put him in a proper perspective." This
opening chapter makes delightful reading and several
errors are decisively corrected. Bahau'd-Din did not
leave Balkh on account of his enmity with Razi; he left
Balkh in 1212 when his son Jalalu'd-Din was 5 years of
age; then returned to Balkh and finally abandoned it
before the Mongol invasion of 1220 A.D. And so at the
age of 13 Rumi started on that long march which took
him to Konya "an island of peace in a vast sea of
turbulence" in 1229. This firm grip on dates continues
in the chapter on the Period of Preparation, for
according to Aflaki, Rumi's grandmother was the
daughter of "Alau'd-Din Muhammad
Khawarazmshah: if so, 'Alau'd-Din was born in the
same year in which his daughter is supposed to have
given birth to Rumi's father! It is obvious, therefore,
that Jami and Aflaki have not differentiated between the
homonymous 'Alau'd-Din Muhammads, one of whom
was the Khawarazmshah and the other, Rumi's
ancestor. Similarly Bahau'd-Din could not have stayed
in the Mustansariyyah College at Baghdad for he was in
Baghdad in 1220 and the College was completed in 1224.
Keeping this historical background before our eyes,
Afzal Iqbal divides Rumi's life into a first phase which
lasted from 1207 to 1244; a second phase which produced
the diwan and began with the appearance of Shams-i-
Tabriz in 1245 and lasted till the death of Zarkob in 1261;
and a third phase which produced the Mathnawi and
lasted from 1261 to 1273 A.D. In the first phase, Rumi
was attached to Burhanu'd-Din; in the second to
Shams-i-Tabriz and Zarkob and in the third to
Husamu'd-Din Chalapi: Rumi was therefore never
without a confidant in his life. And "if the friendship of
a mortal man can contribute so much to the
development of human personality," argues Iqbal,
"how much influence for the good would the friendship
of God exert on a man if he were sincerely to cultivate
Him?"
Mr. Afzal Iqbal next proceeds to a critical analysis of
Rumi's poetry; and all will agree with him and
Coleridge that no man was ever yet a great poet without
being at the same time a profound philosopher. But
what was Rumi's philosophy of life? "It is," states Afzal
Iqbal, "at once a description and explanation and a
justification of his religious experience—where
description, explanation and justification should be
regarded as different notes combining and merging into
a higher unity—Rumi's symphony of Love." "Passive
life is of no use to Rumi," concludes Afzal Iqbal, "for
struggling against destiny is the destiny of man."
Mr. Afzal Iqbal's task was difficult for he had to
break new ground, but he knows how to pick and choose
his words; he knows how to sift his material; he knows
how to arrange his ideas; he knows how to argue with
restraint and moderation. And the result is an
extremely fine piece of work, i n t e r e s t i n g and
instructive, and replete with much infromation that is
new and original.
I
The thirteenth century of the Christian era was the
seventh century of Islam. The Islamic commonwealth
achieved its full political maturity within the first
century and its entire geographical extent during the
first seven hundred years of its existence. Rising from
Mecca it flashed into Syria; it traversed the whole
breadth of Northern Africa; and then leaping the
Straits of Gibraltar, it hammered at the doors of
Europe. Islam conquered Sicily and reached as far as
the Campagna and Abruzzi in the south. U s i n g Spain
as a springboard it jumped into Provence, Northern
Italy and even to Switzerland. From its stronghold in
Spain and Sicily it transmitted its powerful cultural
influence to the whole of Europe. In the thirteenth
century, however, the social order of Islam no longer
represented the best that it had to offer to the world.
The passage of centuries had beclouded the vision
which once inspired the whole world. E l e m e n t s of
decay, which had crept into the system, continued to
work unnoticed, till it became clear that the grand
structure represented by Islam in the thirteenth
century was no longer a structure of steel. It w a s not
yet a house of cards, either, but the edifice was
certainly tottering, and if the rot was not checked in
time the result could be disastrous.
The reasons leading to t h e decline of Islam can be
understood best by a reference to the causes of its
success. Islam owed its spectacular success entirely to
t h e teachings of the Qur'an and the life-example of
t h e Holy Prophet. The world of Islam flourished and
progressed to an e x t e n t which was unparalleled in the
a n n a l s of history. It produced a civilisation at once
refined and progressive at a time w h e n Europe w a s
sunk in superstition, stagnation and reaction. It will
be no exaggeration to say t h a t the West owed its
regeneration considerably to the intellectual energy
released by t h e dynamo t h a t w a s Islam. This period of
regeneration is rightly referred to by the West as the
Renaissance, w h i c h m e a n s re-birth, for so it was
indeed for t h e stagnant civilisation of Europe.
These achievements were possible only because of
the teachings of the Qur'an and the life-example of
the Holy Prophet. They were possible as long as
M u s l i m s were ready and eager to surrender them-
selves to the commandments of their faith. They
became difficult and impossible to a degree corres-
ponding w i t h the Muslims' unreadiness to allow their
lives to be conditioned and modelled on t h e t e n e t s of
the Qur'an and the Sunnah. While the pioneers of
Islam found no sacrifice too great to observe and
enforce t h e l a w s of the Qur'an, their successors, on
w h o m fell t h e duty of preserving their legacy, proved
unequal to t h e task, for they had learnt to place their
own comfort before t h e demands of the fundamentals
of their faith. They accepted w h a t w a s convenient and
rejected w h a t appeared to be inconvenient. While
paying lip-service to the Qur'an, they refused to pay it
the h o m a g e of their actions without which Islam
becomes a mockery. Instead of accepting the Qur'an
as an unchallenged guide to life in all its manifold
aspects, the Muslims relegated it to the status of a
treatise on dogmas. No wonder, therefore, that the
active vigour and utility of the system was neutral-
ised. The Sunnah in the thirteenth century had
become for the Sufi an ideogram of mere Platonic
importance, for the theologian and the legist a mere
s y s t e m of laws, and for the Muslim m a s s e s nothing
but a hollow shell without any living meaning. The
intellectuals, slow to understand t h e limitations of
their own intellect, had gone all out for Scholasticism,
a subtle poison which had by this time eaten deep into
the muscles and s i n e w s of the Muslim body politic. It
had sapped the courage of millions of men; it had
gnawed at the roots of faith and had demonstrably
weakened the fabric of Islam. We are not concerned
with an analysis of the many and varied causes which
led to this decay and degeneration. It is enough for our
purpose to record t h a t Islam in the thirteenth century
was a tottering edifice. It had weathered many a
storm during the s e v e n centuries of its life, but it had
now reached a stage w h e n its inner vitality had been
slowly sapped, and w h e n one powerful blast might
well have uprooted it from the soil on which it was
leading a precarious existence.
It is a great paradox of history that while the light
of Islam had spread over lands far away, the followers
of Islam were deserting their own cause in the very
heart of the Islamic commonwealth. The betrayal had
indeed come, not from the m a s s of m e n , but from those
whose duty it was to guide them to the right path by
m e a n s of their knowledge and example. Such a force
of character was, however, conspicuously lacking. The
zeal for t h e faith w a s not unoften accompanied by a
complete disregard for the law of Islam. There was a
sharp cleavage between religious thought and
activity. Comfort and convenience was the rule. The
love of controversy had got t h e better of the love for
truth. Islam had been split up into factions and the
wood had been lost for the trees.
The Muslim society in the thirteenth century repre-
sented, therefore, a decadent social order incapable of
dynamic growth and divested of a capacity for effec-
tive resistance. It is difficult for any society, under
such circumstances, to survive a serious external
danger. It was all the more difficult for Islamic society
which w a s also threatened from within and had lost
its inherent strength and capacity for healthy growth.
And yet t h e Islamic commonwealth was confronted in
this era with two of its most dangerous foes. One was
the Crusader from the West; the other was the Mongol
from the East.
The Crusader w a s a familiar character known to
t h e world of Islam for nearly two centuries, for the
Crusades started in 1096. It is one of the unfortunate
facts of history t h a t the first great clash between
Europe and Islam came w i t h t h e very beginning of
European civilisation. The clash which started in the
e l e v e n t h century continued till the end of the
thirteenth. The proclaimed a i m of these wars was to
wrest t h e Holy Lands from the hands of the Muslims.
This slogan had a tremendous psychological appeal
for the m a s s of the Christians whose frenzy was
roused to a pitch wholly unparalleled either before or
since the Crusades. Little did the common man
understand that the recovery of Palestine and the
Holy Lands w a s but a pretext on the part of t h e Pope
and the powerful regional k i n g s of Europe to achieve
their own personal ambitions. Little did he realise
that he w a s being used as a mere pawn in the hands of
religious and political intriguers whose own feelings
were quickened only by political ambitions and econ-
omic rapacity. A movement which was based on such
foundations and which lacked the cohesion and unity
of purpose, so necessary for success, could not be
expected to achieve any object, for it had no well-
defined object in view. It was a mere expression of the
new confidence which had grown in Europe w i t h the
dawn of civilisation. The different parties engaged in
the Crusades sought to achieve different ends. The
appearance of unity on the surface was deceptive
indeed. In the thirteenth century, which was full of
t h e Crusades, we find ample evidence of their inner
contradictions. While the ostensible aim of these wars
was the recovery of Palestine, they were waged, as
h a s been well said, 'everywhere except in Palestine'.
In the period under discussion we clearly see the
Crusaders completely uncertain of their goal. Quite
oblivious of their real objective, they wandered
uncertainly from Constantinople to Egypt and even
to Tunis. They only succeeded in capturing the
Christian city of Constantinople. And yet, Constanti-
nople was the city which had originally invoked the
Crusades. By the thirteenth century the French
feudalism, which was the mainstay of the Crusades,
was diverted to Greece. Palestine seems to have been
left severely alone, for the centre of gravity shifted in
this century to the debris of the Eastern Empire.
The simple fact that emerges from the history of the
Crusades is t h a t Christian Europe w a s determined to
wipe out Islam from the face of the earth. It extermi-
nated the Muslim element in Spain after the most
ferocious and merciless persecution the world had
ever known. When Islam came to Spain with Tariq in
the e i g h t h century, the aristocracy was absorbed in
luxury, t h e serfs were ill-treated and reduced to the
1 2
1
S. Lane-Poole, The Moors in Spain (London, 1912), p. 7.
2
McCabe, Splendour of Moorish Spain (London, 1935), pp. 15-16, 21, etc.
3
Ibid., p. 7.
seemed supremely indifferent to their l o t . Poverty, 4
God was appeased by our humility, and on the eighth day of our
humiliation He delivered the city and its enemies to us. And if you
desire to know what was done with the enemy who were found there,
4
Ibid. 5
Lane-Poole, op. cit. 6
Ibid., p. 43.
know that in Solomon's porch and its temple our men rode in the
blood of Saracens up to the knees of their horses. 7
II
We have some idea by now of the mind of Christian
Europe as also of the manner in which it sought to
express itself in the Muslim world of the thirteenth
century. The Crusader was not the only foe that the
Muslim world had to contend with. There was another
one, far more formidable in the immediate effects of
its destruction, and that was the Mongol. While the
Crusades exercised an indirect, though an important,
influence on the spiritual growth of Rumi, the Mon-
gols have a direct bearing on his life. We now move
nearer home and see Rumi - not as a distant spectator
of the Crusades, but as a living actor in the bloody
drama staged by the Mongols. In common with his
compatriots, we now see him in the role of suffering
humanity. Let us have a look at the stage - the
Persian Empire.
At the beginning of the century 'Ala-ud-din
Muhammad Khwarizm was the most important king
of Persia. The founder of this dynasty, destined for
over a hundred years to play the leading role in the
history of the Middle East, 'Ala-ud-din was a slave
from Ghaznah who served as a cup-bearer to the
Saljuq Malikhshah and was appointed by him to the
governorship of K h w a r i z m . 'Ala-ud-din's empire
20
Al-Juwaini, Ta'rikh-i-Jehan-Gusha,
2 0
ed. Mirza Mohammad (Leyden,
1916), Vol. II, p. 3; Ibn-ul-Athir, Vol. X, pp. 1 8 2 - 8 3 .
S. Lane-Poole, The Mohammadan Dynasties, p. 176.
2 1
2 2
Spelt as Zingis, Tchimkis, Jenghis, Tchingnis, Chungaze, etc. Zin is said
to mean great, and gis is the superlative termination.
significance of Temuchin's phenomenal rise. The
danger from without did not create t h e usual u n i t y
within: it resulted in more dissensions. Most of the
neighbouring Muslim States had been weakened and
destroyed by 'Ala-ud-din; he was, therefore, clearly
caught in a tightening ring of ill-will. He made no
attempt to straighten the circumstances. On t h e
contrary, he quarrelled with the Abbasid Caliph, who
retaliated by intriguing against him with the Mongol
upstarts.
Probably the Mongol invasion of Persia could not
have been averted, but it was certainly facilitated and
provoked by the greed, treachery and irresolution of
'Ala-ud-din - by his greed, because he had weakened
and destroyed most of his neighbouring Muslim king-
doms, and no Muslim prince was willing to come to his
rescue w h e n the hour of danger came; by his
treachery, because his alleged murder of Mongol
envoys provided Chingiz Khan w i t h a pretext to
invade Persia; and by his irresolution, because at the
first reverse he passed from arrogant and boastful
defiance to extreme panic and i n d e c i s i o n . 23
2 4
Now called Farab.
2 5
Michael Prawdin, The Mongol Empire: Its Rise and Legacy, p. 168.
2 6
J. A. Boyle, The History of the World Conqueror, Vol. I, p. 107.
wise men said it was necessary to suffer without
murmuring, since it was the wind of God's anger
blowing upon them. The great city, which in the
morning was one of the most beautiful cities in all
Asia, was, on that fatal evening, a heap of cinder and
ruin. The seat of arts and science where Avicenna
once studied philosophy presented a dreary picture of
desolation. Chingiz is reported to have described
himself in a speech as 'the scourge of God sent to m e n
as a punishment for their s i n s . ' Ibn-ul-Athir, a 27
The illiterate nomad, who for the best part of his life
could have no conception of the world, w a s now on his
way to master it. And with his empire 'Ala-ud-din
lost his life. Chingiz Khan followed him to the grave
in 1227, but with the disappearance of these com-
2 9
See E. G. Browne, op. cit.. Vol. II, pp. 431, 439.
3 0
Boyle, op. cit., Vol. I, p. 128.
batants from the stage, the terrible drama of blood did
not come to an end. Jalal-ud-din, the brave son of a
cowardly father, did not lose heart even though he
had lost an empire. The fugitive prince fought against
heavy odds. He fled from place to place for succour;
even India could not offer him any help and Altamsh,
the slave ruler, politely dismissed him with the
remark that Delhi's climate would not suit His
Majesty! The fate which was cruel now decided to
become ironical, and the great soldier who could not
be killed in the battlefield died by the treachery of a
Kurdish tribesman. Thus, in 1231 C.E. ended t h e
b r i l l i a n t career of a most e n t e r p r i s i n g soldier.
D e s p i t e h i s r e v e r s e s and downfall h e h a s left to
fame a n a m e w h i c h is honoured and respected. Sir
Percy S y k e s calls h i m 'one of t h e b r a v e s t and m o s t
e n t e r p r i s i n g soldiers w h o ever lived . . . a dazzling
meteor, perhaps a prototype of Charles XII of
Sweden.' 31
j^Ujil j y l <av kill* J lj j j> ji ijL; J j > £ 3y, J > I_> jL—I
4 5
Browne, op. cit., Vol. II, p. 443.
forces into fresh v i t a l i t y . ' Ghazali had achieved a
46
Ghazni, tells us that the zeal for the faith was often
accompanied by a reckless disregard for the law of
Islam as regards the use of fermented liquor. Not only
the soldiers and their officers had drunken brawls, but
Sultan Mas'ud himself used to enjoy regular bouts in
which he frequently saw his fellow topers 'under the
table'.
The decrepitude to which Muslim society had fallen
can be imagined by the fact that when Chingiz Khan
approached the city of R a y y , the Mongols found it
48
Ill
We have scanned the wide canvas that was Europe in
the thirteenth century; we came nearer home and
4 9
D. B. Macdonald, Muslim Theology, Jurisprudence and Constitution-
Theory, 1903.
5 0
Ameer Ali, op. cit., p. 468.
5 1
Hitti, op. cit., p. 488.
5 2
Nicholson, Rumi: Poet and Mystic, p. 26.
scanned the Muslim world; nearer still we saw the
drama unfold itself on the stage which immediately
concerns our subject. And having studied the scene at
large let us now shift to the major centre of Rumi's
activities for a fleeting glimpse of Konya - a focal
point where all the significant developments take
place in the life of Rumi. Rumi was a young man of
about twenty-two when he came to K o n y a for the 53
1
Manaqib-uI-'Arifin.
2
Yusuf b. Ahmad. Al-Munhij-ul-Qavi li-Tullab-ul-Mathnawi (Egypt,
1289).
3
From early times the Persians and other Asiatics applied the name of
Rum to the Roman Empire, and. after its division, referred it especially to the
Eastern and Byzantine Empire, which, as is known, included the whole of
Asia, Armenia. Syria, etc. Rum and the Qaisars of Rum are frequently
mentioned in the Shahnamah. The Arab geographers continue to use the
same name for designating the territories of the Byzantine Empire in Asia
and Europe.
When, towards the end of the thirteenth century, the Saljuq Turks
established their power in Asia Minor, the Asiatic nations retained the name
of Rum for the territories of this monarchy but continued to call the
Byzantine Empire likewise Rum. Subsequently, when, towards the end of the
thirteenth century, the Saljuq dynasty disappeared and the Ottomans
succeeded them in these territories, the name of Rum was transferred to the
Ottoman Empire. In the Zafar-Namah, Rum is identified with Anatolia.
Sharif-ud-din calls Byazi, the Ottoman Emperor whom Timur made prisoner
in 1402. Qaisar-i-Rum. See Dr E. Bretschneider, Medieval Researches from
Western Asiatic Sources, Note 1156.
these pages, however, we will refer to him simply as
Rumi.
Rumi was no obscure person even as a child, for he
was the son of a great father who had- set up for
himself a reputation rivalled by few in his own
generation. Rumi's father lived for twenty-four years
after his birth and we propose, therefore, to follow
Rumi's career while he grew up under his father's
care. The first twenty-four years of Rumi, as indeed of
any young man, constitute the most formative period
of his life, and we will do well, therefore, to begin with
a narration and an analysis of the varied influences
received and imbibed by him during this period.
Rumi belonged to a family which had settled in
Balkh, in the northern Persian province of Khurasan
for several generations, and had produced a notable
number of jurists and divines. Most of the family's
history, which traces its descent from Abu Bakr, the
first Caliph of Islam, is to a large extent legendary.
Rumi's own works contribute almost nothing by way
of historical data, and the Persian chroniclers take
more delight in dabbling in the narration of super-
natural phenomena attributed to the divines, than in
an analysis of historical events. Fortunately,
however, we are in possession of some old and
relatively reliable sources which enable us to study,
in outline, the story of the family in the light of
history. We will make no attempt, therefore, to
entangle ourselves in the controversy that surrounds
the early ancestors of Rumi but will content ourselves
with beginning our account with his grandfather, who
is definitely a historical personality.
H u s a i n ibn Ahmad Khatibi, the grandfather of
Rumi, was a great scholar. The measure of his
scholarship can be gauged by the fact that persons
like Radi-ud-din Nishapuri came to learn at his feet. 5
5
For detaiis about him see Lubb-ul-Albab (London), Vol. I, pp. 2 1 9 - 2 8 .
Also see Majma'-ul-Fusaha (Iran), Vol. I, pp. 2 3 1 - 3 3 .
He was acknowledged as a great spiritual leader not
only by divines and men of learning but also by
contemporary rulers with whom he is said to have had
some intimate blood-relationship. According to
Aflaki, 'Ala-ud-din Muhammad, the Khwarizm king,
married his daughter, Malika-i-Jahan, to Rumi's
grandfather. This relationship has been accepted by
Shibli, Rumi's biographer, but it does not seem to be
6
6
See Shibli, Swanih Maulana Rum (Indial, p. 2.
7
See Fihi-ma-Fihi, p. 247, edited by Farozan Far.
8
Badi'-uz-Zaman Farozan Far, Swanih Maulavi (Tehran), p. 7.
grandfather enjoyed a high social status, coupled with
an equally high regard, won as a man of great
spiritual eminence.
Rumi's father, Baha-ud-din M u h a m m a d ibn al-
Husain al-Khatibi al-Baqri, inherited, in an ample
measure, the traditions of his father in the realm of
knowledge and spiritual eminence. He was heir both
to his material and spiritual wealth. Baha-ud-din, in
his own day, w a s acknowledged as a m a n of deep
learning and bore the title of King of Scholars
{Sultan-ul-'Ulama). At the time of Rumi's birth in
1207, w h e n Baha-ud-din w a s fifty-nine years of a g e , 9
1 6
See the quotations from al-Ma'arif in Farozan Far, Sharh-i-Hal-i-
Maulavi (Tehran), p. 11.
quitting Balkh. Baha left Balkh w h e n Rumi was
stated to have been a lad of five, and Rumi, it is
agreed, w a s born in 1207. Baha, therefore, m u s t have
left Balkh in 1212. According to most biographers he
left in 1213. But Razi died in 1209, i.e. four years
before the departure of Baha from Balkh. If we take
Aflaki's account as correct, the quarrel started in
1208 and Razi died the next year. It is rather difficult
to believe, therefore, that Razi succeeded in securing
Baha's exile four years after his death. In fact, a
critical student of Rumi will do well to look elsewhere
for the causes of this migration.
Baha left Balkh in 1213 C.E. By 1206 C.E. Temuchin
- an obscure adventurer — had become so powerful
that he had assumed the title of Chingiz Khan. With
the assumption of this title came that sudden
devastating destruction called the Mongol invasion.
Afraid of the onslaughts of the Mongol hordes, people
looked about for security and shelter. It was not B a h a
alone; we know at least of one more famous personal-
ity who took refuge in Konya. Sa'di quit Shiraz in
1226 C.E. So savage were the Mongols that, in the
16
j _ J i ^ L> j \jj J L , Ja
Ij tl ^1 jL~« jl I JJL_J
2 0
Tarikh-i-Jahangusha (Leyden/London, 1912), Vol. II, p. 125.
which in all probability was due to Baha's loss of
favour w i t h the king. It also becomes clear, for the
first time, that Baha left Balkh in 1212 and later
returned to his native town which he finally aban-
doned a year before the Mongol invasion of Balkh in
1220. This was the occasion w h e n he quit the town for
good after delivering a public address in the presence
of the king and the people in the great mosque, where
he is said to have foretold the advent of the Mongols to
overturn t h e kingdom, possess the country, destroy
Balkh, and drive out the king.
It will be clear by now that Rumi's life was not the
life of a normal boy living peacefully under the care of
his parents in a settled family. He had to leave his
home while he was still a child of five, and as a child
he witnessed the terrible and gruesome massacre
perpetrated by the Khwarizm king of the poor and
innocent people of Samarqand. The memories of this
event left an indelible impression on his young mind,
for we see h i m vividly recall some of the events of this
period i n h i s later l i f e . A s a child, again, he had to
21
II
We have followed Rumi's career for the first twenty-
four years. It was indeed more of h i s father's story, for
Rumi's role in this period was essentially subservient
to that of his father. And yet this was the most
important period of his life, as it saw the foundations
of his mental make-up being truly laid. It was then for
Rumi to build on t h e m as beautifully as he could, but
2 4
E. G. Browne, A Literary History of Persia, Vol. II, p. 438.
2 5
Tadhkira Haft Iqleem, see chapter on the poets of Balkh.
2 6
Sultan Walad, Rumi's son, says this in his Mathnawi, Walad Nama:
dy: j £*r jli. jijl ^ xl j.ii 0 > ? ^
before we get into the imposing mansion w e should
acquaint ourselves with the elements of the founda-
tions for, without this, the eye will not be able to
appreciate the beauty and grandeur of the edifice.
Rumi w a s the son of a father renowned for his
religious knowledge and respected for his spiritual
eminence. He lived in a period which was a period of
revolt against the philosophic influences of Greece.
The age of B a h a was indeed t h e age of Ghazali - a
protagonist of a n intensely personal and passionate
religion designed to lead m e n back from mere scholas-
tic dogma to a living contact with the Qur'an and the
Traditions. Rumi was t h u s born in a family and a
society which was clearly hostile to philosophy. The
atmosphere in his own house was one of scholarship
and spiritualism. His father was a mystic of no mean
order and he was to suffer many a personal discomfort
for the sake of the principles which he boldly espoused
and sincerely followed. It was in this atmosphere that
Rumi had his first lesson in defiance of authority and
in defence of principles without which the divine
status of man would sink to the level of an animal. It
is in t h i s atmosphere that he learnt to place a
premium on his trust in God against all t h e heavy
odds that t h e ingenuity of m a n could devise; it is in
this atmosphere that he learnt the value of devotion
to duty in the face of all obstacles erected by h u m a n
tyranny and social persecution. Rumi's father was an
old man of nearly sixty at t h e time of Rumi's birth. H e
was keenly devoted to his son and was sincerely
anxious to impart to him the best education that he
could.
As a child Rumi w a s quick, intelligent and full of
curiosity. In fact, the Persian chronicles start
attributing spiritual powers to him during his very
childhood. We have a story told of him at the age of six
when, in response to a request from his playmates to
jump to a neighbouring terrace, Rumi is reported to
have replied, 'My brethren, to jump from terrace to
terrace is an act well adapted for cats, dogs and the
like to perform; come now, if you feel disposed, let us
spring up to the firmament, and visit the regions of
God's realm.' These sentiments are, perhaps, far too
sublime to be put in the mouth of a child; it may well
be an exaggeration due to an overdeveloped sense of
devotion, but the fact remains that Rumi was a
sophisticated child of extraordinary promise. His
education like that of all other children of his age,
started at home. He had the added advantage,
however, of an atmosphere of dynamic mysticism.
Besides imperceptibly imbibing this influence, the
boy devoted himself to a study of what was an
established syllabus of that time. The study of the
Qur'an, as we know from contemporary sources, was
invariably followed by that of the Traditions, of which
the standard collections were already in circulation.
A youth in Rumi's day would begin with the study of
Fiqh and his first lesson would be on ceremonial
purity by the use of ablution, the bath, the tooth-pick
and the various circumstances of legal defilement
when complete ablution is prescribed; of ailments of
women and the duration of pregnancy. Then came the
second part of the book on prayers, its occasions,
conditions and requirements. He would learn all
about Zakat, about fasting and pilgrimage, about the
law of barter and sale and debt, about inheritance and
wills - a most difficult and complicated subject. Then
the pupil would pass on to marriage and divorce, a
very large chapter. Then would follow the laws in
regard to crime and violence, Jihad and the ritual of
sacrifice at the Great Feast. The last three chapters of
books on Jurisprudence generally dealt with oaths,
evidence and the treatment of slaves. The studies
included not only religious sciences but also a
thorough knowledge of Arabic and Persian. The philo-
sophical sciences taught during this period included
mathematics, logic, physics, metaphysics, politics and
moral philosophy.
It is known that Rumi's father had appointed for his
son his own trusted and. able disciple, Burhan-ud-din
Muhaqqiq Tirmidhi, as a tutor charged with the
responsibility of Rumi's education. He had become a
devoted disciple of Rumi's father in Balkh and was
assigned this task before their migration from Balkh.
His selection as Rumi's tutor is indicative of the high
regard in which he was held by Baha-ud-din. Rumi
learnt at his feet with the love and loyalty char-
acteristic of the best traditions of his age. By the time
he was twenty-four, he had not only successfully
completed the curriculum of studies prescribed for a
man of his age but had achieved much more in the
sphere of learning, for he was fortunate in having
exclusively to himself a tutor who was both competent
and d e v o t e d . Rumi freely acknowledged his debt to
27
Cw.1 *^L»-'
| *l»r <; jLw ji
J 0
Nafhat-ul-Uns, Haft Iqleem and Manaqib-i-Aflaki are all supported by
this line from Walad Nama:
was this consideration which took Rumi to Halab
where he joined Madrasa-i-Halivia for pursuing
further studies.
Halab and Damascus were the most important
centres of Islamic learning in the thirteenth century.
Both these places managed to remain immune from
the onslaughts of the Mongols and, therefore, became
a welcome refuge for scholars who nocked there and
made them richer. Madrasa-i-Halivia, which Rumi
joined first, was a nourishing Hanafi institution. Like
any other Madrasa of the period, the professors and
students lived on the income from the property
attached to the institution. The person who had
dedicated it to the Madrasa had made a provision that
3000 dinars should be given to the teachers in the
month of Ramadan so that they might entertain
religious scholars to a feast of sweets (halwa). This
peculiar condition precisely explains the name of the
institution. When Rumi joined it, Kamal-ud-din
31
Ill
Let us now scan the intellectual horizon of Rumi who,
at thirty-four, was an acknowledged leader of
thought. Let us follow some of the main currents
which shaped the mind of a man who was to exert a
powerful influence on the Muslim world for centuries
to come.
The first and by far the most powerful influence
3 2
Farozan Far, Sharh-i-Hal-i-Maulavi, p. 48.
imbibed by Rumi during this period came from his
own father. That Rumi accepted, in outline, the
philosophy of life preached by Baha-ud-din, is clear
even to the most casual student of his works. What
surprises one, however, is the overwhelming
impression of similarity that one forms after a cursory
comparative study of his father's work, Kitab-ul-
Maarif, and the Mathnawi. It appears a case of
appalling plagiarism! In fact, so deep was the
influence of his father on him that he had to be
expressly forbidden to read his works during the
period of Rumi's communion with Shams-i-Tabriz who
dissuaded him equally strongly from reading the
works of the Arab poet al-Mutanabbi, to whom Rumi
was much a t t a c h e d . We give below a few quotations
33
Rumi Baha-ud-Din
wJd» j i j c ~ l ^ i , - ^ J _ . / I
L
" u" •** «y'-^ o»L>
5
- r
j jliji jl lj Jj—i
j j j j j u l y Co-lj jl:,,„l;>
• • *
Of love Rumi s a y s : 41
3 6
Book III, verses 96-98.
3 7
Vol. II (Egypt), pp. 183-210.
3 8
Ghazali, The Alchemy of Happiness, tr. Claud Field (Lahore, n.d.),
p. 73.
3 9
Vol. I, line 116.
4 0
Ihya, Vol. IV, p. 182.
4 1
Vol. I, line 205.
ij-> ^J^> C«ilfc ij-J J-l*. iy ^ / ^ J-^
How wilt thou see red and green and russet, unless, before
(seeing) these three (colours) thou see the light?
But since thy mind was lost (absorbed) in (perception of) the
colour, those colours became to thee a veil from (debarred thee
from contemplating) the light.
Inasmuch as at night those colours were hidden, thou sawest
that thy vision of the colour was (derived) from the light.
There is no vision of colour without the external light: even so it
is with the colour of inward phantasy. 48
They have asserted that light is a meaningless term, and that there
is nothing but colour with the colours. Thus they denied the
existence of light, although it was the most manifest of all things . . .
for it is the thing that is itself visible and makes visible.... But when
the sun sank . . . they confessed that light is a form that lies behind
all colour and is apprehended with colour, insomuch that, so to
speak, through its intense union with the colours it is not
apprehended, and through its intense obviousness it it invisible. And
it may be that this very intensity is the direct cause of its invisibility,
for things that go beyond one extreme pass over to the opposite
extreme. 49
striking.
Rumi argues that until we know what a t h i n g is not
we do not know what it i s . The appearance of evil is
5 2
See, e.g., Book II, lines 2927 sqq.; Book V, lines 574 sqq.; Book VI, lines
5 3
1747 sqq.
Translation, p. 67, quoted by Nicholson, Mathnawi, Books I and II
5 4
(Commentary), p. 91. 5 5
Lines 2387-2391 sqq.
Cairo, i 3 0 9 , p. 20; quoted by Nicholson, Mathnawi, Books I and II
5 6
(Commentary), p. 325.
In Book III, Rumi gives a description about the
disagreement among people about the shape of the
elephant which they see in darkness. The one whose
hand fell on its trunk thought it was like a water-pipe,
the one who touched its ear compared it to a fan,
another who handled its leg considered the shape to
be like a pillar. Another laid his hand on its back and
said the elephant was like a throne.
This apologue occurs earlier in the Hadiqah of
S a n a ' i and in the Ihya of G h a z a l i . Both these
57 58
5 7
Book I, ed. Stephenson, 8, 10 sqq. 5 8
IV, 7, 10 sqq. (Kitabu'l-Tawbah).
5 9
See pp. 236, 250, 297, 303, 304, 309, 317, 320 and 33 in Fihi-ma-Fihi,
edited by Badi'-uz-Zaman Farozan Far.
Ghazali w a s born in Tus in Iran in the eleventh
century of the Christian era; Rumi was born in the
same country two centuries later. At the age of thirty-
three Ghazali was a professor in the University of
Baghdad where he devoted himself to a study of the
Purpose of P h i l o s o p h y . At the same age Rumi w a s
60
6 1
4JL»}UII iiL:
Ghazali was more fortunate inasmuch as he dis-
covered the solution within a brief period of ten years.
He was forty-one years old when he wrote Ihya 'Ulum-
ud-Din ('Revivification of Religious Sciences') and al-
Munqidh min al-Dalal ('Deliverance from Error'). The
pangs that Rumi had to suffer were not only far more
painful in their intensity, but were also incomparably
longer in their duration, for it was not before he was
forty-six years of age that he started his monumental.
work of writing the Mathnawi. His was a method
essentially different from Ghazali's, though both
arrived at the same conclusions. Of both it has been
said that their greatest contribution has been that
they found for mysticism a place in Islam which has
given it a niche and an existence of its own in the
Muslim polity. Both, I suggest, would reject this
compliment with equal force if they were living today,
for their great contribution does not really lie in the
refutation of Greek philosophy only. Both tried, in
their own way, to re-create and rediscover for them-
selves the original purity of Islam; both worked and
pleaded in their own way for bridging the gulf
between religious thought and religious deed. Both
fought against tendencies which were reducing Islam
to the status of a dogma; and both worked for winning
for it the unchallenged allegiance due to it as a code of
life. While one spoke in cold prOse, the other spoke in
the animate language of poetry - a difference which
partly explains the incomparably greater influence
which Rumi continues to wield on the thought and life
of Muslims up to this day.
Ghazali rose far above the crippling limitations
imposed by scholastic logic and the religious and
philosophical fanaticism of his age; Rumi transcended
similar, if not greater and stronger, barriers in his
own day; both showed a surprising capacity for
assimilating the learning of their own age without
allowing t h e m s e l v e s to succumb to it. Ghazali points
out the impossibility of obtaining for mysticism the
type of proof which is available in the problems of
chemistry and m a t h e m a t i c s . Proof in logic and
62
6 4
Tusi fled during the Mongol onslaught and took refuge in Rum in the
reign of Sultan 'Ala-ud-din Kaiqubad. He received great favours at the hand
of the Saljuq kings. He wrote of 'Ala-ud-din Kaiqubad, Ghayath-ud-din
Kaikhusraw and 'Izz-ud-din Kaika'us. As the poet laureate, he wrote the
history of Saljuqs in verse.
Muslim perceive the grandeur of that poet,' he said,
'his hair would stand on end, and his turban would
fall from his head. That Muslim, and thousands such
as he - such as thee - would become real Muslims. His
poetry which is an exposition of the mysteries of the
Qur'an, is so beautifully embellished that one may
apply to it the adage we have drawn from the ocean,
and we have poured again into the ocean. Thou hast
not understood his philosophy; thou hast not studied
it. . . . The vicars of God have a technology, of which
the rhetoricians have no knowledge. Hence these
truths appear to be imperfect, because men of crude
minds are prevented from comprehending them.
Though thou hast no part in the lot of the recondite
mysteries of the saints, it does not thence follow that
thou fixest thy faith upon them and actest with true
sincerity, thou shalt find on the Day of Judgment no
heavy burden on thy shoulders.' 65
When thou drinkest a cup of wine in this ruined house (the world),
I counsel thee, raise not thy foot from the place of thy intoxication
and lay thy head where thou hast drunk it; and when thou hast
drunk it, rub a clod of earth on thy lips (i.e. keep silence). The God-
intoxicated Sufi is a laughing-stock to the children of this world. It
behoves him to confide in his Shaykh from whom he has quaffed
the wine of Love, and consort with none but the initiated.
Any thing that causes thee to be left behind on the Way, what
matter whether it be infidelity or faith?
Any form that causes thee to fall far from the Beloved, what
matter whether it be ugly or beautiful?
Rumi's debt to 'Attar is equally great. In Book I of
the Mathnawi a story is related how a parrot escapes
from its cage by feigning death. Rumi has borrowed,
adapted and expanded 'Attar's tale of the Hindu sage
and the King of T u r k i s t a n . On p. 99 of Book I, Rumi
75
7 3
See Hadiqa, tr. Stephenson, p. 47.
7 4
P. 108, Heading.
7 5
Asrar Namah. 90, 6 sqq.
fhou art a sensualist: O heedless one, drink blood (mortify
thyself) amidst the dust (of thy bodily existence) •
For if the spiritualist drink a poison, it will be (to him as) an
antidote.
Vol. VIII.
7 8
Ibid, p. 143.
7 9
Book V, pp. 91 sqq.
8 0
Asrar Namah, 97, 6 sqq.
8 1
Line 1382.
(a) On his way to Balkh he met 'Attar at Nishapur
and received a copy of Asrar Namah from him.
(6) He was well acquainted with the poems of
Sana'i to whom he pays a tribute in one of his
odes (XXII in Nicholson's Selected Poems from
the Divani Shamsi Tabriz).
(c) His meeting with Sa'di.
id) His reference to Nizami.
(e) Echoes of Omar Khayyam in his poetry.
IV
Rumi was well equipped with classical Islamic philos-
ophy. Al-Kindi, who is often identified in the West as
the founder of Islamic philosophy was certainly not
known to Rumi, because few of his treatises in Arabic
were available until forty years ago. Abu Nasr al-
8 2
Nicholson, Selected Poems from the Divani Shamsi Tabriz, Intro.,
p. xxzvii.
Farabi ( 8 7 0 - 9 5 0 ) was the real successor of al-Kindi.
In logic especially, al-Farabi's works were significant
because in them Aristotelian logic was expressed in
exact and appropriate terminology which henceforth
became a heritage of nearly all branches of Islamic
learning. He calls Plato the Imam of the Philosophers.
Rumi w a s certainly familiar with his works, though
he neither followed him nor had much admiration for
his method. This is also true of Abu Ali Sina
(Avicenna) who sought to harmonise reason and
revelation along lines already begun by al-Kindi, al-
Farabi and others. Avicenna came under severe critic-
ism by Ghazali and Fakhr-ud-din al-Razi, as well as
by the Andalusian philosophers, especially Ibn Rushd
or Averroes.
By no means an admirer of Avicenna, Rumi could
not possibly escape such a leading influence in Islamic
philosophy. The story of the King's falling in love
with a handmaiden, told so beautifully in Book I , 8 3
Series. Vol. IV. Also see reference to Ibrahim ibn Adham in The Mathnawi.
Vol. II, 532, 929, 930, 3210. Vol. IV, 668, 726, 731, 3078. Vol. V, 1271, 2428.
Vol. VI, 3986.
Vol. I, 19, 133, 1529, 1546. Vol. II, 1386. Vol. Ill, 3261. Vol. IV, 1549.
9 1
517, 532, 7 6 2 , 1 5 0 0 - 0 1 , 1574. Vol. Ill, 1960, Pref. p. 1,1; 1,4621. Vol. IV, 2102.
Vol. V, 2694-95.
9 3
For a full account of his life and doctrine, see Massignon's La passion
d'al-Hallaj (Paris, 1922).
See Kitab-ul-Tawasin,
9 4
134, ed. Louis Massignon (Paris, 1913).
pletely to grasp the spirit. In Fihi-ma-Fihi Rumi
offers the following explanation: 95
When a fly is plunged in honey, all the members of its body are
reduced to the same condition, and it does not move. Similarly, the
term istighraq (absorption in God) is applied to one who has no
conscious existence or initiative or movement. Any action that
proceeds from him is not his own. If he is still struggling in the water,
or if he cries out, 'Oh, I am drowning,' he is not said to be in the state
of 'absorption'. This is what is signified by the words Ana'l-Haqq,
'I am God'. People imagine that it is a presumptuous claim, whereas
it is really a presumptuous claim to say Ana'l-'abd, 'I am the servant
of God'; and Ana'l-Haqq, T am God,' is an expression of great
humility. The man who says Ana'l-abd, 'I am the servant of God,'
affirms two existences, his own and God's, but he that says Ana'l-
Haqq, 'I am God,' has made himself non-existent and has given
himself up and says 'I am God,' i.e. 'I am naught, He is all: there is no
being but God's.' This is the extreme of humility and self-abasement.
9 5
Fihi-ma-Fihi, pp. 49, 2 sqq., quoted by R. A. Nicholson, Commentary on
Book II, p. 248.
9 6
Tawasin, 51; cf. 93 sqq.
9 7
For details of references to Hallaj in The Mathnawi see: Vol. I, 1809,
3056. Vol. II, 59, 305, 1398, 1790, 2523, 2674-75, 2642-44. Vol. Ill, 1086,
3845, 4000. Vol. IV, 1926, 2102. Vol. V, 2038. Vol. VI, 2095, 2242, 3405.
9 8
See The Mathnawi: Vol. I, 3934, 3935. Vol. II, 1437. Vol. Ill, 3839,
4186-87. Vol. V, 2675. Vol. VI, 3840, 4062.
(4) Qut al-Qulub of Abu Talib al-Makki.
(5) Risalat al-Qushayriyah of Qushayri.
Rumi certainly had read them all though no reference
is to be found in his writings to the first book. The
second is referred to only o n c e . "
Kashf al-Mahjub is quoted quite copiously in the
Mathnawi. 100
9 9
See Mathnawi, Vol. VI, 1111.
1 0 0
See Vol. I, 132, 231, 1111, 2113, 2353, 2696-97, 2711, 2773, 3338.
Vol. II, 3 1 - 3 2 , 9 3 1 - 3 2 , 1465-68, 1707,1935,3006-07, 3235, 3370-74, Vol. Ill,
1132-34, 1985. Vol. IV, 392-94. Vol. VI, 662, 3091, 3133, 3405, 3578, 3998,
4415-17.
1 0 1
Kashf al-Mahjub. Abridged translation by R. A. Nicholson, Gibb
Memorial Series, XVII (London, 1911, re-issued 1936).
1 0 2
Verses 2996-97, Book II.
there can be no contemplation without mortifica-
tion.' 103
See Vol. I, 19, 133, 856, 1790, 2847. Vol. II, 336 566-68. Vol. Ill, 1285,
1 0 6
1699-1701. Vol. IV, 369, 3072. Vol. V, Pref., p. 1, 1, 2. Vol. VI, 2653.
Fusus, 82 penult, and sqq.
1 0 6
All these know their Creator through mystical revela-
tion {Kashf). Man, on the other hand, is in bondage to
intellect, thought and religion. This paradox can be
deduced from t h e first principles of Ibn 'Arabi's philos-
ophy. If God is the essence of all that exists, and if His
attributes are identical with His essence, it follows
that where existence is, there is life, perception,
knowledge, reason, etc. But though God pervades
w i t h His Oneness every particle of the universe, these
attributes are not manifested everywhere. The fact
that they are latent, i.e. existent potentially, in
minerals and plants is known only to mystics. Man,
h a v i n g sensation and consciousness, possesses a 'self
(nafs) and consequently is veiled from God by his
egoism and the exercise of his faculties, whereas the
mineral and in a lesser degree the plant, in virtue of
their external insensibility and unconsciousness,
implicitly acknowledge the Divine omnipotence and
glorify the Creator with the tongue of their 'in' ird -
state'.
Rumi draws the same contrast in the story of the
moaning pillar when they make a pulpit for the
Prophet and the pillar complains of its separation
from the Prophet who buried that pillar in the earth,
that it may be raised from the dead, like mankind, on
the Day of R e s u r r e c t i o n . 107
Maqalat-i-Shams-ud-Din,
7
photographic edition published by the
Ministry of Education, Tehran, and quoted by Farozan Far, op. cit., p: 90.
Manaqib-ul-'Arifin.
8
greatest of all Prophets and Saints.' 'Then,' rejoined Shams, 'how is it
that Muhammad said: "We have not known Thee, O God, as Thou
rightly shouldst be known," whereas Bayazid said: "Glory unto me!
9
fainted away. On coming to, he took the questioner home where both
were closeted for forty days in holy communion. 11
Rumi was addressing his students as usual in his house. Before him
was lying a heap of books. During the lecture, a man entered and
politely took his seat in a corner after formal greetings. Pointing
towards the books the visitor said: 'What is this?' Rumi who was busy
with his lecture must have been annoyed with such a silly interrup-
tion for the books were there for anybody to see, and on the face of it
the question was both preposterous and irrelevant. It was, moreover,
a breach of good manners for a student to interrupt the Master so
insolently during the course of his lecture. It must have both
surprised and annoyed Rumi for he was at that time the most
eminent religious scholar of the age and had never experienced
anything but unfailing respect and unfettered attention at the hands
of his students. Rumi, therefore, brushed the question aside by
simply saying, 'You don't know,' and tried to continue his lecture.
But no sooner had he uttered the words than the books caught fire.
Bewildered and aghast Rumi looked about for an explanation of this
phenomenon. 'What is this?' he asked, turning his face towards the
Ignorance is far better than the knowledge which does not take you
away from yourself.
Rumi is said to h a v e been so m u c h impressed by t h i s
a n s w e r t h a t h e decided to become t h e disciple of
S h a m s on the spot.
Before we e x a m i n e t h e different versions, let
us hear the one by t h e celebrated traveller Ibn
For example, Amin Ahmad Razi, the editor of Tadhkirah
1 4
Hatflqlim.
Shibli, op. cit., p. 9.
1 5
1 6
Tadhkirah-i-Daulat Shah, pp. 126-98. The same account appears in
Tadhkirah Atish-Kadah.
Battutah who visited Rumi's tomb in the first half of
the e i g h t h century Hijrah. His account m a k e s
interesting reading. This is what he says:
jJl U - j *S> L J j l ^1
j-'jwi ^ Ij i
Jw j i^y** J J jl l i V ' l
1
tj-*2 .Lx;
•^-•H Jij yi iy.
.i jl J
He who excelled in all branches of knowledge deserved to be leader of
the Shaikhs. He counted great muftis among his disciples every one
of whom was better than Bayazid. Two hundred Dhunnuns did not
compare favourably with a single disciple of his. But with all this
dignity and glory, and with all this prestige and perfection, he was
always in quest of an Abdal (a leader). His Khidr (leader) was
Shams-i-Tabriz; if you were associated with him, you would attach no
significance to another person and would rend apart the veils of
darkness (of sin). His (Shams-i-Tabriz's) glory was veiled even from
those who were themselves veiled in the glory of God. He was (in
effect) the leader of all those who had established complete com-
munion (with God). Although the saints are hidden from the people,
(yet) they constitute the very soul of the people (who are like the
body). The visionary saints who were in possession of knowledge and
greatness ever since eternity, failed to identify Shams-i-Tabriz,
although they endeavoured to discover him. The majesty of God kept
him hidden, remote from the sphere of imagination and thought.
Since Maulana (Rumi) on account of his loyalty and sincerity was
singled out by God, He agreed to reveal his (Shams's) face to him
(Rumi) and allow him the full benefit of this special favour (revela-
tion) so that he may not long for another (person) and may
completely rid himself of all other attachments. After longing for
him for a long time he saw his (Shams's) face and the secrets became
transparent for him. He saw what could not be seen by others, and
heard what was not communicated to anyone by one. Madly he fell in
love with him and lost himself. All conflict born of logic (high and
low) was resolved. He asked him to his house saying, 'Listen to the
pleading of this darvesh, O King: although my abode is not worthy of
you, yet in all sincerity I am your devoted slave, and whatever I
possess (at present) and whatever I may happen to possess (in future)
is and will remain yours (by the grace of God).
It will be c l e a r from t h e s e l i n e s t h a t t h e c h r o n i c l e r s
h a v e s a d l y m i s s e d t h e s p i r i t of t h e m e e t i n g . T h e y do
n o t r e a l l y t o u c h t h e f u n d a m e n t a l a n d g e t lost in
u n n e c e s s a r y d e t a i l s . S h o r n of all d r a m a t i c e l e m e n t s ,
t h e s i m p l e fact m u s t be s t r e s s e d t h a t R u m i , h i m s e l f
on a h i g h s p i r i t u a l p e d e s t a l , w a s r e s t l e s s a n d w a s
in q u e s t of a m a n w o r t h y of h i s confidence a n d so
also w a s S h a m s . B o t h w e r e m e n of g r e a t s p i r i t u a l
eminence and, when they met, they naturally dis-
covered each other on account of their highly
developed sense of intuition. Each of them felt like a
traveller who reaches his destination after years of
labour and toil. Perfect harmony was established
between the two. Both found the long-sought-for
confidant in each other, and they opened out their
hearts as they would do to no one else. The meeting
brought about a unique peace and restlessness. For
Rumi it brought the dawn of a new world, a living,
pushing force, an elan vital, a divine sympathy, a
feeling which penetrates the very essence of things.
This unique experience of consciousness set off the
potential energy stored up in the reservoir. From this
day started the real work of Rumi, the work which has
made him immortal.
What transpired at the m e e t i n g s was not known to
many but the result of the m e e t i n g s was too con-
sequential to remain a secret. The learned orthodox
professor of theology gave up lecturing and, to the
disappointment of a large number of his students,
became a rapturous devotee of Shams-i-Tabriz. This
excited the jealousy of Rumi's admirers who were
suddenly deprived of the learning of an eminent
scholar. And what is worse, it excited their anger, for
they were shocked to see Rumi flout religious conven-
tions which he had hitherto fervently preached and
jealously defended. The person who had always
regarded music as undesirable now became a great
lover of it. For hours he would listen to music and
dance in ecstasy. This departure was as unusual as it
was unpleasant for Rumi's admirers. They ascribed
this to the evil influence of the new arrival whom they
considered a nuisance and a meddlesome freak. But
Rumi had been completely enthralled by Shams. He
did what he bade him do. He is reported to have said:
'When Shams-ud-din first came, and I felt for him a
mighty spark of love lit up in my heart, he took upon
himself to command me in the most despotic and
peremptory manner. "Keep silent," said he, "and
speak to no one." I ceased from all intercourse with
my fellows. My words were, however, the food of my
disciples; my thoughts were the nectar of my pupils.
They hungered and thirsted. Thence ill feelings were
engendered amongst them, and a blight fell upon my
teacher.' 18
• **
j£-> jij J jijj v ' > L>
18
Whinfield, op. cit., p. 107.
Nicholson, op. cit., Ode XXVII.
^jSw £j tyj- AS? \j Jit ^ cu—J jLic. vLi* cJLt
• • •
I, U)
2 0
Damimah Mathnavi Maulana (Bombay), 1340.
2 1
Shibli, op. cit., pp. 13-14.
2 2
Nicholson, op. cit., Ode XX.
Sj-LjA 0*-^^ *—^ ^^iiJ j««lj J-SH
*jiA. j ' *^ t A w y? y 7
ur&* J J
JjL—; *jf LfL> A> j a j L 4 / If M.jjl A>
^j—Lj-^H jl—* »'j J JlAl—j j~i?l_>
JwLjw t*jl j i 4*0 j > ^y^i jj
JjJj-jC jL*»«L; j j AS\j'J_¥ j j
oJLS^c j > j j l — ^ j j p j ,jiJLjSs»« V J
2,1
Recall Rumi's ghazal with the line beginning:
J* J Cy o* —Lr-^
J
j 0- j—*
2 4
Tadhkirah, p. 201.
p\j ji X*\J
t J>~IJ J » ^« i*0 (JL
Who dared say that that Immortal one met his death?
Who dared say that the Sun of hope has set?
Lo! an enemy of the Sun came up to the roof,
Closed his two eyes and exclaimed the Sun had set!
Dance (only) where you break (mortify) yourself and (when you)
tear away the cotton from the sore of lust.
(Holy) men dance and wheel on the (spiritual) battle-field: they
dance in their own blood.
Mathnawi, Vol. IV, pp. 9 - 1 0 (Nicholson's translation).
When they are freed from the hand (dominion) of self, they clap a
hand; when they escape from their own imperfection, they make
a dance.
From within them musicians strike the tambourine; at their
ecstasy the seas burst into foam.
You see it not, but for their ears the leaves too on the boughs are
clapping hands.
You do not see the clapping of the leaves: one must have the
spiritual ears, not this ear of the body.
Close the ear of the head to jesting and lying, that you may see the
resplendent city of the soul.
(For) the shrill noise of the clarion and the menace of the drum
somewhat resemble that universal trumpet.
Hence philosophers have said that we received these harmonies
from the revolution of the (celestial) sphere,
(And that) this (melody) which people sing with pandore and
throat is the sound of the revolutions of the sphere;
(But) the true believers say that the influences of Paradise made
every unpleasant sound to be beautiful.
Therefore sama' (music) is the food of lovers (of God), since therein
is the phantasy of composure (tranquillity of mind).
From (hearing) sounds and pipings the mental phantasies gather a
(great) strength; nay, they become forms (in the imagination).
The fire of love is made keen (influenced) by melodies. 26
ing his confidence for nine long years? Rumi not only
gave him his confidence but loved him to the extent of
adoration:
j.1 \yi _ ii
( r .-..„,,; pi AW'I *S JJ\ -u-jlju iji-
Without Thee, how should poesy and rhyme dare to come into sight
at eve or morn?
Poesy and homonymy and rhymes, O Knowing One, are the slaves
of Thy Command from fear and dread. 7
E.g.
bility to music explains the richness of melody so
truly characteristic of a lyric. It is not, therefore,
surprising to find him amongst the greatest of the
world in lyric poetry.
Every student of literature knows that in a study of
any lyric we should inquire into 'the character and
quality of t h e emotion which inspires it and the
manner in which the emotion is rendered; for a lyric,
to be good of its kind, must satisfy us that it embodies
a worthy feeling; it m u s t impress u s by the convincing
sincerity of its utterance; while its language and
imagery m u s t be characterised not only by beauty and
vividness but also by propriety, or the harmony which
in all art is required between the subject and its
m e d i u m ' . Keeping this in view, we will hurriedly
10
1 0
Hudson, Introduction to the Study of Literature, p. 97.
1 1
Divan (Nicholson), p. 136.
Love for Rumi is not w h a t D. H. Lawrence calls an
attraction for 'rubber dolls'; it is a sublime and an
irresistible urge to discover one's immortal self. It is
love and the lover t h a t live to all eternity; everything
else is mortal. Not to love is the greatest misfortune
that can befall anyone, and to love is to live intensely.
•* *
Jul L~ c*«»**dL A£ Cwi»I j^ilt j I J^*.*^
C~~J j L c - . tS A_U ^ >J* Ji
'Twere better that the spirit which wears not true love as a
garment
Had not been: its being is but shame.
Be drunken in love, for love is all that exists;
Without the dealing of love there is no entrance to the Beloved.
* * *
Tis love and the lover that live to all eternity;
Set not thy heart on aught else: 'tis only borrowed.
How long wilt thou embrace a dead beloved?
Embrace the soul which is embraced by nothing.
* * *
***
jt^.i.j..' J jUL j l AJ |»i-> j l Aw fJ^A j l AJ
i»jL-.IJL> jl a_; jt. dUU jl a_;
***
|wUL> jl> j l ^ a£* juiL jL> aJ juiL JJ aj
Ij jiU J i j . J - i (jjKi ( . i / j j - i > jl (jJji
***
A <Jy jk (jjl j - i j U i iSj~ Jj ^1
jL--L t jwLiJ jIjl_u jL-L; ^1
y*
b >? r -»* -^
J si
^
J J
lit'k* J J ' J J-^! ' - * ^- J
J { a
A ~
Ij Jjljf J i ^1 ^j-tU-J- jJ ^ J I J J—
jl—*- j - i i ,> jl u^J j Cij-^ 0"
Ij »JL> ^ J J _ ; jlij-f j — . LJI—-
fJ ;-^
1
tf* j — ' J-? f J J - '
1 ,
j-r> l-»-»y
j—i j.UI A J " ^ J S ' J jui AS*
When the lamps are lit and the tables are laid, after the evening
prayers,
I am engrossed with the thought of my Beloved, with grief, sorrow
and lamentations.
My prayer is fiery for I perform the ablution with my tears.
When the call for prayer comes, the gate of my mosque is set on
fire.
Strange is the prayer of the mad (lovers); tell me, is it correct to say
prayers like this in complete disregard of time and space?
Strange are these two rak'ats and stranger still the fourth one,
How strange, I recited a sura without a tongue!
How can I knock at the door of God, since I have neither heart nor
hand?
Since you have taken away my heart and hand, give me protection,
O Lord!
By God, I know not as I pray whether somebody has stood up to lead
the prayers or a ruku' has ended.
fij Ojj* 1
j J r±J> ji j *>
£~.\jjJS U J j - u (WjJ^J lj? j i 0 0
L~S" j l J U j^yS L>v5" j l J l i . ^Lt
Every moment the voice of Love is coming from left and right.
We are bound for heaven: who has a mind to sight-seeing?
We have been in heaven, we have been friends of the angels;
Thither, sire, let us return, for that is our country.
We are even higher than heaven and more than the angels;
Why pass we not beyond these twain? Our goal is majesty supreme.
How different a source have the world of dust and the pure
substance.
Tho' we came down, let us haste back - what place is this?
Young fortune is our friend, yielding up soul our business;
The leader of our caravan is Mustafa, glory of the world. 16
jL^ (*•—•?• I— 7
|«—> j j x*i j—i
, H
Ibid., p. 33.
0— <yj j*f
ij
- -j—?.
x ,
'J *—$
Make yourself like to the community, that you may feel spiritual
joy;
Enter the street of the tavern, that you may behold the wine-
bibbers.
Drain the cup of passion, that you may not be shamed;
Shut the eyes in your head, that you may see the hidden eyes.
Open your arms, if you desire an embrace;
Break the idol of clay, that you may behold the face of the Fair.
Why, for an old woman's sake, do you endure so large a dowry,
And how long, for the sake of three loaves, will you look on the
sword and the spear?
Always at night returns the Beloved: do not eat opium to-night;
Close your mouth against food, that you may taste the sweetness of
the mouth.
Lo, the cup-bearer is not tyrant, and in his assembly there is a
circle:
Come into the circle, be seated; how long will you regard the
revolution (of time)?
Look now, here is a bargain: give one life and receive a hundred.
Cease to behave as wolves and dogs, that you may experience the
shepherd's love.
You said: 'My foe took such a one away from me':
Go, renounce that person in order to contemplate the being of Him.
Think of nothing except the creator of thought;
Care for the soul is better than feeling care for one's bread.
Why, when God's earth is so wide, have you fallen asleep in a
prison?
Avoid entangled thought, that you may see the explanation of
Paradise.
Refrain from speaking, that you may win speech hereafter;
Abandon life and the world, that you may behold the life of the
world. 17
2 8
Nicholson, Tr., Divan, p. xlvi.
2 9
Nicholson, Rumi, Poet and Mystic, p. 22.
3 0
Nicholson, Divan, p. xlvi.
There are numerous verses written in this state of
mind. They are easily the best examples of the mystic
nature of his verse. We give.some of them below:
(i)
(ii)
(Hi)
I i\j jj-i> j l lj J-- j L i > j i -U-iJ J > -Ul J ^-*J J**l ^J>**J j»*
Many prayers are rejected because of the smell thereof: the corrupt
heart shows in the tongue.
(But) if thy words be wrong and the meaning right, that wrongness
of expression is acceptable to God.
So truly and sincerely does he record his feelings
that we feel the pulse of his heart throbbing in our
hand; we can almost directly launch into the laby-
rinthine ways of his mind and follow the track
without coming up against a blind alley. Here, for
example, we see a lover sincerely in love, being
evaded by the beloved. He is tired of his steadfast
pursuit and is painfully conscious of the advantage
his beloved has over him. The beloved can never
appreciate the lover's point of view, for he has never
known the agonies of love. 'Would to God he fell in
love with a faithless person and spent wakeful nights!
Would to God he fell in love with a cruel rake who
would completely disregard his feelings! For then
alone he would know what it means to love, for then
he would understand how I pass my sleepless nights':
ok) j* cy J ^ * <j>y.
1
y j j j J
(jjJ-i Ir- 1
y J JJ* y.
If you were to love me (as I do) with humility and submission,
I would have condoned the errors of your ways and would have
granted you the boon of a kiss.
If you were as constant in love (as I am),
I would not have preferred another one (like you have done).
If I were to command the power of cruelty and tyranny (as you do),
(I would not have exercised it) either in deference to public opinion
or out of fear of God.
Rumi is at once direct and effective. The tone
sometimes becomes coquettishly tantalising. Take
this for example:
Show thy face, for I desire the orchard and the rose-garden;
Ope thy lips, for I desire sugar in plenty.
'Vex me no more,' thou saidst capriciously, 'begone'!
I desire that saying of thine, 'Vex me no more.'
In one hand a wine-cup and in one hand a curl of the Beloved;
Such a dance in the midst of the market-place is my desire. 34
! C w j l , . k i t c.....: . xS ^ li
O j\«ra> ^jj Jjj> >. «Jal j l jlwJ. j j ^j-it J J JLJWVU JIJ J-'J—^
^—* J
jr. j ' *> ^ J j Ij ^ j^ij.
Love, you must concede (in all fairness), leads to goodness but the
trouble arises because of the evil nature of man.
You style your lust by the name of love. But between love and lust
there is a big distance.
Thank God, people are fast asleep and I am busy tonight with my
Creator,
Thank Heavens for the Grace and good fortune.
Truth is wide awake tonight and so am I,
I would be thoroughly disgusted with my eyes were they to close
tonight in sleep.
cy J J
o^-ij j '*lj«-i JIJJW
Ij- -
' (^V JJ^ t.j*
'> r ~ y j t j i
^ ^> y l > ri^rJ J~j±>. Cwjjwl
O Friend! we are near you in friendship,
Wherever you set foot, we prostrate ourselves like earth.
How is it permissible, in the religion of love,
That we should see your Creation and neglect to see You?
C— I JI JJ*—• l> ji
C—l jl Jj-A* J^Z j jj^; j C ^ J > ^
j_»Li j £L*~ j J_Jb J f j j^L.
C~.l jl Jj_oli <U» j AJ'LJ. *Lf- j j
4
' Not infrequently Rumi declares that poetry for him is not an achievement
to be proud of. See these verses, for example:
j II jl jl A-fLr \ y y. xi\j yj^
I 0 <3©fe/&l SUf^W^
Qn'JE?! ?m t
E C paedia B r i t a n n i c a
< 5 2 edn., Vol. XIX, p. 658) mentions
19
When the Book of God (the Qur'an) came (down), the unbelievers
railed likewise at it too,
Saying, 'It is (mere) legends and paltry tales; there is no profound
inquiry and lofty speculation. . . .' 2
Does any painter paint a beautiful picture for the sake of the
picture itself. . . ?
Does any potter make a pot in haste for the sake of the pot itself
and not in hope of the water?
Does any bowl-maker make a finished bowl for the sake of the bowl
itself and not for the sake of the food?
Does any calligrapher write artistically for the sake of writing
itself and not for the sake of the reading? 3
Every one who is left far from his source wishes back the time when
he was united with it. 7
Body is not veiled from soul, nor soul from body, yet none is
permitted to see the soul. 8
The marvel is that this colour arose from that which is colourless:
how did colour arise to war with the colourless? 10
Thou alone art the (whole) community, thou art one and a hundred
thousand.
10 I, 2470. 1 1
I, 2654-56.
This mystery is not unravelled, however, by intellect.
The saints who are the 'intellect of i n t e l l e c t ' reveal 12
OjSw jl j \ Jul p£ ji
Since there is many a devil who hath the face of Adam, it is not well
to give your hand to every hand.
The vile man will steal the language of dervishes, that he may
thereby chant a spell over . . . one who is simple.
The work of the (holy) men is (as) light and heat; the work of vile
men is trickery and shamelessness. 18
£~»*y> J" j 1
'-Vv y" cr» J"J
1 9
I, 3391-95. 2 0
I, 132. 2 1
I, 133. 2 2
I, 232-33.
L i > ijC) j l i j l j> l
ij 1
j * * -ri
1
^
3
y. tj-j—*' A - J U—
0 iJJ ^ j i - J l * »_J? j l j l j * J-tf
»
Our speech and action is the exterior journey: the interior journey is
above the sky.
The (physical) sense saw (only) dryness, because it was born of
dryness (earth): the Jesus of the spirit set foot on the sea.
The journey of the dry body befell on dry land, ibut) the journey of
the spirit set foot (took place) in the heart of the sea.
* * *
The waves of earth are our imagination and understanding and
thought; the waves of water are (mystical) self-effacement and
intoxication and death. 24
U Ui j J j i
w H.i j J\I jy»
iL
»- ! - j j j-, jL> '^—-f- -'j* s j£"- >
£ -V J
J~Z* ,j->
The Prophet said with a loud voice, 'While trusting in God bind the
knee of thy camel.' 28
If you are putting trust in God, put trust (in Him) as regards (your)
work: sow (the seed), then rely upon the A l m i g h t y . 30
2 8
1,913. 2M
I, 3071. 3 0
I, 947. '
3 1
I, 18 19-22 . 3 2
V, 2594-95.
' *~!J Ji J J
jj*
3 3
I, 3740-45.
What is this world? To be forgetful of God; it is not merchandise and
silver and weighing-scales and women.
As regards the wealth that you carry for religion's sake 'How good
is righteous wealth (for the righteous man)!' as the Prophet recited.
Water in the boat is the ruin of the boat, (but) water underneath
the boat is a support. 34
Jj-»- ^ L ji j
vt: / L> J u
Adam, (cast out) from Paradise and from above the Seven (Heavens),
went to the 'shoe-row' for the purpose of excusing himself.
If thou art from the back of Adam and from his loins, be constant in
seeking (forgiveness) amongst his company.
Prepare a desert of heart-fire (burning grief) and eye-water (tears):
the garden is made open (blooming) by cloud and sun.
What dost thou know of the taste of the water of the eyes? Thou art
a lover of bread, like the blind (beggars).
If thou make this wallet empty of bread, thou wilt make it full of
glorious jewels. 36
I. 1635-40.
j-** U J U j 1
l* ^ ^* tj^. J 1
J J 1
H
j l yJLt j i PJI ^jiL ijA kjJLt j j j l yJutf j j ,jJ»jl O—IJ j
j\j - U - t j J » J ^/l j l jli^JJ jL« Ji »JUI K-jl J J J (J*JI j
J^*-* 1
J^J^JJ j jJ ^S" J U jUj j U jjl JJ" /
When a lamp has derived (its) light from a candle, every one that
sees it (the lamp) certainly sees the candle.
If transmission (of the light) occurs in this way till a hundred
lamps (are lighted), the seeing of the last (lamp) becomes a meeting
with the original (light). 37
jjS j \ »!> ,jA jj pi- j l ol> jjl ,\y%. J,jy jj pi] j | ,\ji.
* • *
JJ.J JJM- j l (jji \/\ XI J, xjj \j ^yuJ. jy jy>
3 7
I, 1943-48.
When the lover (of God) is fed from (within) himself with pure wine,
there reason will remain lost and companionless.
Partial (discursive) reason is a denier of Love, though it may give
out that it is a confidant. 38
Jt*J Jj
J
-' —£
1
L»J J_It. yj>-j JyL; Iji. jj> iy. j l JJiU-
<£ J-lw 4*^ JjV ^5w> Ij J^fc Jj_)> J_i*.
To realise the highest in one's self one has to make a
beginning by waging war on all that hinders our
growth - greed, cupidity, avarice and hatred. The
parable of the Rumi and Chinese painters in Book I of
the Mathnawi beautifully describes the situation.
The Chinese said: We are better artists; the Rumis
claimed: Power and excellence belong to us. The
Chinese and the Rumis began to debate. The Rumis
retired from the debate. The Chinese demanded a
room to create their work of art. There were two
rooms with door facing door. The Chinese took one,
the Rumis the other. The Chinese demanded a hun-
dred colours for their painting. The Rumis said no
colour was needed for theirs; they would merely
remove the rust. They shut the door and went on
burnishing. When the Chinese had finished their
work, the king entered the room and saw the pictures
there. The beauty of the creation was incredible. After
that he came towards the Rumis. They simply
removed the intervening curtain. The reflexion of the
Chinese pictures struck upon the walls which had
become clear and pure like the sky. The king was
wonder-struck. All that he had seen in the Chinese
room seemed infinitely more beautiful in the other
room and yet the Rumis had not used a colour, not a
brush; they had merely removed the rust from the
stained walls.
The moral of the parable is then driven home:
I, 1981-82.
The Greeks, O father, are the Sufis: (they are) without (independent
of) study and books and erudition.
But they have burnished their breasts (and made them) pure from
greed and cupidity and avarice and hatreds.
That purity of the mirror is, beyond doubt, the heart which
receives images innumerable.
They that burnish (their hearts) have escaped from (mere) scent
and colour: they behold Beauty at every moment without tarrying.
* * *
They [the Sufis] have relinquished the form and husk of knowledge,
they have raised the banner of the eye of certainty.
Thought is gone, and they have gained light: they have gained the
throat (core and essence) and the sea (ultimate source) of gnosis.
Death, of which all others are sore afraid, this people (the perfect
Sufis) are holding in derision.
None gains the victory over their hearts: the hurt falls on the
oyster-shell, not on the pearl, 39
• • •
^S^ij J J J JL JO I A?..,.IJ J,(J^. F» JJFCL
J-4 j->. j J > ->^l O J w ? j-. J-xb jl—-J J I j-i -oL-J ( J-S'
II f < 0 ^ r ^ ^ 3 m
^
L
-!j i>»i J o*i J J - > ^ LJ
- l—>j—• I j Jj_»j J - y _ f j L » J
J
JJj->, ^j* ^ 1 v-o-U'l jl
•
i j > j i j j i_r-—«J j $j * jl_»-,l
4 2
III, 4403-17. - ^ - i j * j l a I j £j> j jyj
,jr* ^ JJ J i 1
C* J 1
^ /
jL-J »—jL7 J t^jl j julj A > j Jw J j ( JS* ^S" j y j J,
t:L—• •-w ,» jl j—<c
4 3
III, 4435-45.
While everything strives to return to its origin, no
origin resembles its product. 'Semen is (the product)
of bread, (but) how should it be like bread? Man is the
product of semen, (but) how should he be like it? The
J i n n is (created) from fire, (but) how should he
resemble fire? The cloud is (produced) from vapour,
but it is not like vapour. J e s u s was produced from the
breath of Gabriel (but) when was he ever like him in
form. . . ? Adam is (made) of earth, (but) does he
resemble earth? No grape ever resembles the v i n e . ' 44
4 4
V, 3980-85. 4 5
VI, 45-50. 4 6
VI, 56-57. 4 7
II, 47 ff.
and declares that those who are blind to spiritual
things virtually occupy the position of the Mu'tazi-
lites, the philosophers, who denied that it is possible
for the Faithful to see God either in this world or the
next. But Rumi believes that the Faithful see God
both in this world and in Paradise. Even in this world
Paradise and Hell and the Resurrection are shown by
immediate vision. A saying is attributed to Ali:
5 H
V, 979-93. 5 7
II, 1812-15.
Man h a s already passed through a series of deaths
to a t t a i n h i s present stage. Death h a s a l w a y s resulted
in a h i g h e r stage. Why should he now be afraid of it?
I died to the inorganic state and became endowed with growth, and
(then) I died to (vegetable) growth and attained to the animal.
I died from animality and became Adam: why, then, should I fear?
When have I become less by dying?
At the next remove I shall die to man, that I may soar and lift up
my head amongst the angels;
And I must escape even from (the state of) the angel: everything is
perishing except His Face.
Once more I shall be sacrificed and die to the angel: I shall become
that which enters not into the imagination.
Then I shall become non-existence: non-existence saith to me (in
tones loud) as an organ, Verily unto Him shall we return. 58
(I am) not the vagabond who gets small money into his palm, (but)
the nimble vagabond who would cross this bridge (to the world
hereafter) -
Not the one who cleaves to every shop; nay, but (the one who)
springs away from (phenomenal) existence and strikes upon a mine
(of reality).
Death and migration from this (earthly) abode has become as sweet
to me as leaving the cage and flying (is sweet) to the (captive) bird. 59
5 8
III, 3901-06. 5 9
III, 3949-51.
S-< J-^ Jjjl Jj-i j£ <j J-~*
He (God) said: 'I was a hidden treasure': hearken! Do not let thy
(spiritual) substance be lost: become manifest! 64
Our sleep and waking are two witnesses which attest to us the
significance of death and resurrection.
The lesser resurrection has shown forth the greater resurrection;
the lesser death has illumined the greater death. 66
p^ij—, £_,L_! ^1 L, \j j \ ^
j-> j—i JJJ—- UJJ-J r>j j-Z cy J J-y- u;' c?-J bjj~i ^
• * *
iji j\fc \j*u j j l i jl«j> JJ
l»J v l . . . . ^ ijj L>;l Iji ys *J* ^ v*
The wind becomes a bearer for Solomon, the sea becomes capable of
understanding words in regard to Moses.
The moon becomes a b l e to see the sign in obedience to Ahmad
(Mohammed), the fire L . m e s wild-roses for Abraham.
The earth swallows v j u m n (Korah) like a snake; the Moaning
Pillar comes into (the way of) righteousness.
The stone salaams to Ahmad (Mohammed); the mountain sends a
message to Yahya (John the Baptist).
(They all say), 'We have hearing and sight and are happy,
(although) with you, the uninitiated, we are mute.' 71
Jp' 1
-*j^ >
J — ' '<jj*" j ' j—"I—' j**- ji' C-Jli» jl Ji»
Man is the substance, and the celestial sphere is his accident; all
things are (like) a branch or the step of a ladder: he is the object.
Thou art the sea of knowledge hidden in a dewdrop; thou art the
universe hidden in a body three ells long.
Jej-i J 1
J J-'1 J J*J- Ij j l £y> j jl Jl ^ — J * J *
* * *
III, 1151-55 . 7 3
V, 3575, 3579, 3591-92, 3606-07.
uU> jl
•
,| j-*-* j-k-ij j-J" I j crjyr i'j->
7 4
II, 48. 7 5
II, 159-60. 7 , 1
II, 305-06.
Jjj bjt-j J J
LI ijj JJJ' jj-<ai« wJ j i jJ-IL'l JJJ
The religion of Love is apart from all religions: for lovers (the only)
religion and creed is - God. 78
• * *
r l ^"iUautfl lj j . (*l »JL^! j j - - Ij t r - 4 j-J»
r
• * *
• * *
Ju» ^XJa-ol lj jL.Ju- £J-> J—* £jUa~<»l Ij jljJ^*
jLii j j j oLL,l ,*» ill* . JL.'amm,; jl JL; j *
Ij J L * J r-A. 'J OJJ* L» b Jl* J ftj^> L> oWj >—
c — l j * _ ^ i « j clo Ij jLLiLt C~.IA> LJ^O A*» jl J^-t «d«
Tis no wonder, indeed, for the flying bird not to see the snare and (so)
fall into destruction;
The wonder is that it should see both the snare and the net-pin and
fall (into the snare) willy-nilly.
(With) eye open and the ear open and the snare in front, it is flying
towards a snare with its own wings. 86
'This is far (from reasonable) and deeply involved (in error): do not
listen to an absurdity without some explanation.'
9 7
II, 493-94. 9
" III, 3654-55. 9 9
III, 3658-75.
Galen the Greek philosopher, is quoted by Rumi as
having stated, ' "I am content that (only) half of my
vital spirit should remain, so that I may see the world
through the arse of a mule." ' He has obviously, like
his class, 'deemed all except this sensible world to be
non-existence and has not perceived in non-existence
a hidden resurrection.' That embryo, too, is unaware
of a world outside the womb of the mother; like Galen
it is also unfamiliar with the world he cannot per-
ceive. 'It does not know that the humours which exist
(in the womb) are supplied (to it) from the external
world, even as our elements in this world obtain a
hundred supplies . . . from the City beyond s p a c e . ' 100
But when you carry this burden well, the burden will be removed and
you will be given (spiritual) joy.
100 III, 3061-81. 101 III, 4120-25. 102 III, 4110-14.
Beware! Do not carry this burden of knowledge for the sake of selfish
desire (but mortify yourself), so that you may ride on the smooth-
paced steed of knowledge.
JVJ A y V-^J Jyt- L
" ^ V sc.
Thou hast pronounced the name: go, seek the thing named.
Make thyself pure from the attributes of self, that thou mayst behold
thine own pure untarnished essence. 103
T h e r e a r e t h r e e s t a g e s of c e r t a i n k n o w l e d g e - t h e
k n o w l e d g e of c e r t a i n t y (j\iJI ,J*), t h e vision of cer-
t a i n t y (UAAJI j>&) a n d t h e i n t u i t i v e a c t u a l i t y of c e r t a i n t y
(juJI j>). T h e l a s t is t h e h i g h e s t . I n s u c h a s t a t e :
oli J-J-L-J -
L»j_o jl—jt- ji ol—L? J-_-LW jiji" i J J
T h e w a y to c e r t a i n t y is not t h e w a y of r e a s o n . O n e
s e e k s n o proof in t h e p r e s e n c e of t h a t w h i c h s t a n d s
proved in front of one's eyes.
(Suppose that) a sun has come to speech (and says), 'Arise! for the day
has risen; jump up, do not dispute!'
(And suppose that) you say. 'O sun; where is the evidence?' - it will
say to you, 'O blind one. beg of God (that He give you) an eye.'
1 0 3
I, 34 47-61. 1 0 4
II. 859-61.
If any one seek a lamp in bright daylight, the very fact of seeking it
announces his blindness.
To say in the midst of day 'Where is the day?' is to expose yourself. 106
• * *
J> jjj ^1 C~~Ji/ U"i>> J ^ j_>J j - - » J J J jL_y» j i
The beloved said, 'If this is for my sake, (to read) this at the time of
(our) meeting is to waste one's life.
I am here beside thee, and thou reading a letter! This, at any rate,
is not the mark of (true) lovers.' 106
For a long while I was seeking the image of my soul, (but) my image
was not displayed (reflected) by any one.
The soul's mirror is naught but the face of the friend, who is of
yonder country. . . .
I saw my own image in thine eyes!
I said, 'At last I have found myself: in his eyes I have found the
shining Way.'
My image cried out from your eye, I arn you, you are Me - in
complete Union.
i l j j l j l yj jl jjj JJC
S
'dence of fire.' 113
1 1 2
VI, 2356-57. 113
VI, 2502-05. 114
VI, 2596-99.
115
VI, 3006-07. 116
VI, 3072-77.
The man whose search culminates in such a con-
summation, the seeker whose heart responds to such a
call, the traveller on the Path who gains this goal -
such a man indeed is a gnostic, the soul of religion and
the essence of p i e t y ^ l n him knowledge attains its
highest illumination for he is both the revealex of
mysteries and that which is revealed^
He is our king to-day and to-morrow: the husk is for ever a slave to
his goodly kernel.
• • *
V-' ^
and cessation of activity is synonymous w i t h d e a t h . 1 1 8
'Break God's image (but only) by God's command; cast (a stone) at the
Beloved's glass, (but only) the Beloved's stone!' 120
(
'ij USVJLJ CW/JJ **j>L>j ji jSsJIi Jj> y^—i i** Ij ij>
1 1 8
I, 1819-24. 1 1 9
II, 9 7 5 - 9 1 . 1 2 0
I, 3079.
1 2 1
I, 517-18. 122 I > _ 5.
7 3 1 3
They only live who dare. One must take,life by the
forelock and not seek to run away from it\Life h a s its
dangers and risks as it has its rewards. U n l e s s you
jump i n t h e fire you cannot hope to convert it into a
gardenYlt is the quality of reason to pause and ponder.
(Love takes a plunge. Safety is the slogan of cowa^rds"^ 1
1 2 3
II, 13 75. 1 2 4
III, 1442-45. ^ 2 5
III, 2632-33.
f He exhorts this hesitant, halting man to rid himself
of fear and realise his potential which knows no
limits^He challenges him to 'make a circuit of heaven
without w i n g and pinion, like the sun and like the
full-moon and like the new m o o n . ' 126
You are your own bird, your own prey, and your own snare; you are
your own seat of honour, your own floor, and your own roof.
The substance is that which subsists in itself; the accident is that
which has become a derivative of it (of the substance). 127
130
V, 363-64. VI, 2057-66.
1 3 2
VI, 494.
V, 575-78. V, 2385-87.
'The way of the Sunnah is to work and e a r n ' 135
:
They have made laziness their prop . . . since God is working for
them.
The vulgar do not see God's working. 136
All changes have arisen from the hours: he that is freed from the
hours is freed from change. 138
When there is no day and night and month and year, how should
there be satiety and old age and weariness? 146
RurcujjBji^ man
to choose his actions for himself. Choice he caflsThe
salt^ of^ev^iqn^^therHise, tiieTej^uM.ae_jao.jrnerit i n
prayer ancT piety. The 'celestial sphere revolves
involHMarTIyrTnence) its revolution h a s neither
reward nor punishment. . . . "We have honoured
Man,'" says t h e Q u r ' a n . The honour lies in t h e fatal
148
1 4 6
III, 29 3 6 - 4 1 . 1 4 7
III, 3263. 1 4 8
xvii, 72.
1 4 9
III, 3287-89. 1 S H
III, 3445-63.
A man of God is not compelled. He freely chooses to
submit to God. tofanrr&i
In sooth the end of free-will is that his free-will should be lost here.
The free agent would feel no savour . . . if at last he did not become
entirely purged of egoism. 151
1 5 1
IV, 399-406. 1 5 2
IV, 2912-20.
How should one make merry who is bound in chains? When does the
captive in prison behave like the man who is free?
And if you consider that your foot is shackled. . . .
Then do not act like an officer (tyrannously) towards the helpless,
inasmuch as that is not the nature and habit of a helpless man. 153
In every act for which you have inclination, you are clearly conscious
of your power (to perform it),
(But) in every act for which you have no inclination and desire, in
regard to that (act) you have become a necessitarian, saying, 'This is
from God.* 154
1 5 8
V, 3086-3124. 1 5 9
V, 3132-53.
1 6 0
V, 3213-14. 1 6 1
III, 4723-25.
j^l^ L»V< jU-J» jU" j±\> J L - J j - » ( >-iLJ'
Love makes the sea boil like a kettle; Love crumbles the mountain
like sand.
Love cleaves the sky with a hundred clefts; Love unconscionably
makes the earth to tremble. 163
* * *
* * *
<_^}L> yJi-l oil Jj_> t<S JV. *J< J - ^ j>? J " *-
If there had not been Love, how should there have been existence?
How should bread have attached itself to you and become (assimi-
lated to) you?
The bread became you: through what? Through (your) love and
appetite; otherwise, how should the bread have had any access to the
(vital) spirit?
Love makes the dead bread into spirit: it makes the spirit that was
perishable everlasting. CL/v
c\Love solves all the mysterieslof the world; it is at
174
j ..itnJIj—j jL_~>l j—J j j—S jtz~* JJJ jjl^ jviLi *>• ij->
One man is beholding a moon plainly, while another sees the world
dark,
And another beholds three moons together. These three persons
are seated in one place.
The eyes of all three are open, and the ears of all three are sharp;
they are fastened on thee and in flight from me.
Is this an enchantment of the eye? Or is it a marvellous hidden
grace? On thee is the form of the wolf, and on me is the quality
(beauty) of Joseph.
If the worlds are eighteen thousand and more, these eighteen
(thousand) are not subject to every eye. 193
To sharpen the intelligence and wits is not the (right) way: none but
the broken (in spirit) wins the favour of the king. 194
*y. y M , J
» <S*/ b^> by; J- JJ
7
-H«
The parts of the Whole are not parts in relation to the Whole - (they
are) not like the scent of the rose, which is a part of the rose.
The beauty of (all) green herbs is a part of the Rose's beauty, the
coo of the turtle-dove is a part of that Nightingale. . . . 2 0 8
The colour of iron is lost in the colour of the fire, the iron has assumed
the colour of the fire but is iron.
When it becomes red like gold, then its appearance boasts without
words: 'I am fire.'
2 0 5
I, 688-89. 2 0 6
II, 311-12. 2 0 7
I, 2810-12. 2 0 8
I, 2905-06.
Glorified by the colour and nature of fire it says, 'I am fire, I am
fire.'
'I am fire; if you doubt it, then come and experience by putting your
hand on me.' 209
\ ^,
2 3 2
I, 530. 2 3 3
I, 1735. 2 3 4
VI, 640-11.
\
negation and affirmation are possible at the same
time. Both are true. Both are valid.)
'Such a non-existent one who hath gone from himself is the best of
beings, and the great (one).
He hath passed away (fana) in relation to (the passing away of his
attributes in) the Divine attributes, (but) in passing away (from
selfhood) he really hath the life everlasting (baqa).
All spirits are under his governance; all bodies too are in his
control.
He that is overpowered in Our grace is not compelled; nay, he is
one who freely chooses devotion (to Us).'
In sooth the end of free-will is that his free-will should be lost
here.235
IV, 398-402.
Chapter 6
Love is a m i g h t y spell - an e n c h a n t m e n t . R e a s o n
dare not s t a n d a g a i n s t it. Love p u t s reason to
silence.
When those Egyptian women sacrificed their reason, 3
3
'And when they saw him they were amazed at him and cut their hands'
(Qur'an. xii. 31).
4
Whinfield. Mathnawi, p. 260.
5
Ibid., Introduction, p. xxviii.
6
Ibid., p. 80.
And true love, he says, is ashamed to demand proofs
of his beloved, and prides himself on trusting her in
spite of appearances telling against her. ' N o t o n l y is
faith generated by love, but, what is m o n j j f a i t h
generated by any other motive is worthless. Faith,
like that of respectable conformists, growing from
mere blind imitation and the contagion of customs, or
like that of scholastic theologians, consisting in mere
intellectual apprehension of orthodox dogmas and all
mere mechanical and routine professions of belief, - is
summed up by the poet under t h e general name of the
"yoke of custom" {taqlid). They only produce the
spiritual torpor called by Dante accidia. To be of any
value, faith must be rooted and grounded in love. The
mere external righteousness generated by taqlid -
the mere matter-of-course adoption of the virtues of
the age, the class, the sect, - is compared to a "veil of
light" (formal righteousness) which hides the truth
more entirely t h a n the "veil of darkness" (open sin).
For self-deluding goodness is of necessity unrepent-
ant, while the avowed sinner is always self-
condemned and so advanced one step on the road to
repentance.' L o v e j s the essence of all religion^! t has
7
/
soft corner but he realises that unless his powers are
wedded to those of Adam, humanity cannot achieve
its full development. Iqbal elucidates this point in his
Lectures:
The modern man with his philosophies of criticism and scientific
specialism finds himself in a strange predicament. His Naturalism
has given him an unprecedented control over the forces of nature, but
has robbed him of faith in his own future. . . . Wholly overshadowed
by the results of his intellectual activity, the modern man has ceased
to live soulfully, i.e., from within. In the domain of thought he is
living in open conflict with himself; and in the domain of economic
and political life he is living in open conflict with others. He finds
himself unable to control his ruthless egoism and his infinite gold-
hunger which is gradually killing all higher striving in him and
bringing him nothing but life-weariness. 17
(•i J a
->J—< J-*—^ (•* J
j ' j'—i
First you were mineral, later you turned to plant, then you became
animal: how should this be a secret to you?
Afterwards you were made man, with knowledge, reason, faith:
behold the body, which is a portion of the dust-pit, how perfect it has
grown!
When you have travelled from man, you will doubtless become an
angel; after that you are done with this earth; your station is heaven.
Pass again from angelhood; enter that ocean, that your drop may
become a sea which is a hundred seas of Oman. 20
I was on that day when the Names were not, nor any sign of existence
endowed with name.
By me Names and Named were brought to view; on the day when
there were not T and 'We'.
For a sign, the tip of Beloved's curl became a centre of revelation;
as yet the tip of that fair curl was not. 21
2 3
Khalifa Abdul Hakim, Metaphysics of Rumi, (Lahore 1959), pp. 38-40^j
2 4
Iqbal, op. cit., p. 48.
Every instant I give to the heart a different desire, every moment I
lay upon the heart a different brand.
At every dawn I have a new employment. 25
'Tis wonderful that the spirit is in prison, and then, (all that time)
the key of the prison is in its hand!
That youth (the spirit) is plunged in dung from head to foot,
(whilst) the flowing river is (almost) touching his skirt. 26
3 1
Vol. II. lines 2 9 6 3 - 6 4 .
ijA j\ jj- ^ U j:
3 2
Vol. IV, lines. 94. 97-100.
3 4
The Qur'an, xxi. 36.
3 5
Iqbal, op. cit., p. 118
36
Mathnawi, Nicholson's translation, III. 1253-54
Nothing, however, is absolutely evil: what is bad for
me may be good for you. And what is more important,
evil itself can be turned to good for the righteous. But
the soul of goodness in evil can be discerned by love
alone.
The freedom of choice, however, is not an end in
itself; the end of all freedom is to freely determine to
live according to your highjx. sfilL,.Sfi the end of all
freedom is a p l f . H p t p r m i n a t i n n n n j p i g h o r P^Tl^ At
the end freedom and determination are identified.
Life starts with determination at the lower plane,
develops to the capacity of Free Choice in man, in
order to rise to a Higher Determinism again, where
man makes a free offer of his f r e e d o m . Karit perhaps 37
This is servitude
To serve th' unwise, or him who hath rebelled
Against his worshipper, as thine now serve thee,
Thyself not free, but to thyself enthrall'd.
Man's love of God is God's love of man, and in loving
God, man realises his own personality:
3 7
Khalifa Abdul Hakim, Metaphysics of Rumi.
3 8
Paradise Lost, VI, 178-81. 3 9
Mathnawi (Bulaq ed.), I, 59.
And again:
When the predestination of God becomes the pleasure of His servant,
he (the servant) becomes a willing slave to His decree,
Not (because of) tasking himself, and not on account of the (future)
reward and recompense; nay, his nature has become so goodly.
He does not desire his life for himself nor to the end that he may
enjoy the life that is found sweet (by others).
Wheresoever the Eternal Command takes its course, living and
dying are one to him.
He lives for God's sake, not for riches: he dies for God's sake, not
from fear and pain.
His faith is (held) for the sake of (doing) His will, not for the sake of
Paradise and its trees and streams.
His abandonment of infidelity is also for God's sake, not for fear
lest he goes into the Fire.
That disposition of his is like this originally: it is not (acquired by)
discipline or by his effort and endeavour.
He laughs at the moment when he sees the Divine pleasure: to him
Destiny is even as a sugared sweetmeat. 40
Do not regard the fact that thou art despicable or infirm; look upon
thy aspiration, 0 noble one.
In whatsoever state thou be, keep searching; . . .
For this seeking is a blessed motion; this search is a killer of
obstacles on the Way to God. 43
andTDivine illumination.
For Rumi, revelation is not a historical fact of the
past; it is a living reality and it is open to everyone.
To those who are sceptical about the possibility of
revelation, Rumi puts a pertinent question. Where-
from, asks he, did the first man learn to dispose of the
dead body of his brother? Was it through revelation
and intuition?
When was grave-digging, which was the meanest trade (of all),
acquired from thought and cunning and meditation?
. . . According to whose desire the torrents and rivers flow, and the
stars move in such wise as he wills;
And Life and Death are his officers, going to and fro according to
his desire. 51
v'j— 9
J Lk» ^ L> jj-J j £~~j6 jlj IJ*-
, 2
Nicholson, Tr., Divani Shamsi Tabriz, pp. 3 0 - 3 1 .
Chapter 7
Bring the sky under thy feet, O brave one! Hear from above the
firmament the noise of the (celestial) music!
Put out of thine ear the cotton of evil suggestion, that the cries
from heaven may come into thine ear. 5
3
ii. 26. 4
II, 1947. 5
II, 1 9 4 2 - 4 3 .
He goes on, in the course of this exhortation, to
suggest to the meek and the imbecile:
Remedy your virility and do not be impotent, that a hundred kinds of
fair ones may come forth.
Thou hast learned a trade to earn a livelihood for the body: (now) set
thy hand to a (spiritual) trade.
In this world thou hast become clothed and rich: when thou comest
forth from here, how wilt thou do? . . .
The high God hath said that beside those (the next world's)
earnings these earnings in the (present) world are (but) children's
play —
Don't behave as a child that embraces another child and adopts the
position of coitus, merely touching the body (and being under the
illusion that he has in fact discovered the thrill and joy of love) 6
6
II, 2 5 9 2 - 9 6 . 7
II, 2597. 8
II, 2597-98.
Ji jl Jji ly Ij jA
j * ' '
j\ j£i Ij j l iji JA-I J> J~>
A Sufi came (back) to his house in the daytime: the house had (only)
one door, and his wife was with a cobbler.
1 1
11,3155-57.
1 2
Vol. IV (translation of Books III and IV), p. 271.
Pandering to physical temptation the woman slept with her paramour
in that room.
h
i^i jljij IAJJJ jl j r>j jl ijj <Si j'J-"' >
2 5
Vol. VI, p. 82. 2 6
V, 1333-37.
T h e story is allowed to proceed. T h e a s s w a s b e c o m i n g
l e a n , a n d his m i s t r e s s w a s worried, b u t no a i l m e n t
could be discerned in h i m . She b e g a n to i a v e s t i g a t e in
e a r n e s t u n t i l one day, t h r o u g h a crack in t h e door,
'she saw t h e little n a r c i s s u s sleeping u n d e r t h e a s s ' : 2 7
T h e ass w a s t r e a t i n g t h e m a i d s e r v a n t exactly in t h e
s a m e m a n n e r as a m a n t a k e s a w o m a n . 2 8
T h e m i s t r e s s b e c a m e e n v i o u s a n d said: 'Since t h i s is
possible, t h e n I h a v e t h e best r i g h t , for t h e a s s is m y
property.' T h e ass h a d b e e n perfectly t r a i n e d a n d
i n s t r u c t e d a n d t h e m i s t r e s s decided to t a k e a d v a n t a g e
of h i m . F e i g n i n g to h a v e seen n o t h i n g , she k n o c k e d a t
t h e door. T h e m a i d w i t h a broom i n h e r h a n d opened
t h e door. T h e m i s t r e s s t r e a t e d h e r like an i n n o c e n t
person. L a t e r one day she s e n t h e r a w a y on a n e r r a n d .
T h e crafty m a i d , w h i l s t she w e n t on h e r e r r a n d , k n e w
exactly w h y s h e w a s b e i n g s e n t a w a y . She w a s s a y i n g
to herself: 'Ah, m i s t r e s s , you h a v e s e n t a w a y t h e
expert. You will set to work w i t h o u t t h e e x p e r t a n d
will foolishly h a z a r d your life. You h a v e stolen from
m e a n imperfect knowledge a n d you a r e a s h a m e d to
ask about the trap.'
After t h e maid is gone t h e n a r r a t i v e lapses into
Latin:
j U j jl c i f ^ j C-^J jj ji jLaOl—MW 1
" 'j '^g.l.ll.O jl
2 9
Ci£i ij-J Ij j£jt j_. y. Ij J 1
^>J*^ b^ o ji
1
That woman closed the door and dragged the ass and undoubtedly
she enjoyed herself. Slowly she pulled him into the house and slept
below the big ass. In order to achieve her end she stood on the same
chair as she had seen the maidservant use. She raised her legs and
the ass penetrated her. From his member he set her on fire. The ass
politely pressed the lady up to his testicles until she was dead. The
member of the ass burst her liver and tore apart the intestines. She
did not utter a word and laid down her life. The chair fell on one side
and the woman on the other. The courtyard of the house was smeared
with blood, the woman lay prostrate. Without doubt the calamity had
come. Such a bad end, O reader; have you ever seen a martyr to the
member of an ass!
3 0
V, 1382-90.
I m m e d i a t e l y after this scene t h e moral follows:
Hear from the Qur'an (what is) the torment of disgrace: do not 31
cr -v
aj >
J,\ oyi L> jl <j°** j>? j J*4-i >*-» fjx.i jS
_rk—' jl oj_;L_i j L ^ jxS jl
33
J- j ^ i t ji o>^-~» j> . L
You only saw the member which appeared so tempting and sweet to
you, but in your greed you omitted to see the gourd. Or else you were
so absorbed in your love for the ass that the gourd remained hidden
from your sight.
^>l IJ*
V
V, 1391-93. 3 3
V, 1 4 2 0 - 2 1 . 3 4
V, 1415-19.
A story which may seem saucy and scintillating in
parts has to be read in its entirety and judgment
suspended until after the author has concluded it.
Any court of critics would concede that Rumi is by no
means a pedlar in pornography and yet parts of the
story being singled out, irrespective of the context, for
translation into Latin tend to create an effect which is
perhaps entirely opposite to the one intended by the
translator. The censored part, like all forbidden fruit,
becomes more delicious and one is apt to exaggerate
rather than digest it within the general framework
of the narrative. Keeping this essential requisite in
mind we make bold to relate another story which the
translator seeks to obscure by his peculiar technique.
If the very mention of sex can cause a flutter in some
petticoats, the remedy does not lie in cloaking words
which merely reflect a fundamental fact of life. The
Sufi, Rumi has stated time and again, is like a highly
polished mirror. He only reflects your own reality.
If you see an ugly face it is you; and if you see a
beauteous visage, it is you. The reader, who makes a
powerful, penetrating breach into the island of the
Mathnawi, will see nothing but light and spiritual
fervour. There is a point, therefore, in seeking to
liquidate the mystery created by the lavish use of
Latin in Book V.
Explaining the case of a person who makes a
statement w h e n his own behaviour is not consistent
with his statement and profession, Rumi narrates the
story of a certain hypocritical ascetic. He had a very
jealous wife, and he also had a very beautiful maid-
servant. For a long time the wife watched them both
until one day she went to the public bath forgetting
the silver basin at home. Suddenly she remembered
the washbasin and sent the maid home to fetch it. The
maid came to life for she knew this was the oppor-
tunity she had sought so long. The master was at
home and alone. Desire took possession of both the
lovers so m i g h t i l y that they had no thought of bolting
the door. At this stage of the story Nicholson bolts the
door at the face of the reader for he cannot stand this
verse of Rumi:
J»^i.| j pa j l ^jf, ji*w ji> J»i-^ J 1
J - ^ > J> r* ;
1
*
Both were besides themselves with joy. Both were locked at that time
in an embrace of union.
Without any fear she lifted up the skirt of the husband and saw his
member and testicles wet with semen. From the member were
dripping sperm-drops, his thighs and knees were soiled and impure.
She hit him on the head and said: 'This, then, is the testicle of a man
who says his prayer - this, then, is the member which is worthy of
supplication - and this filthy and impure body is engaged in an act of
devotion!'
4 6
V, 3 4 3 7 - 3 8 . 4 7
V, 3341. 4 8
V, 3345. 4 9
V, 3732.
I told you not to go near him and not to accept his seed. I told you that
at the time of climax you should withdraw from him.
She said:
He said:
When his eyes look daggers you should know that it is time for
ejaculation.
She said:
JJS («-^> ji {j>) '-"..I.H.T.M^ JJS jj-i <—..j.;*^" J U £j&
Until his eyes begin to look daggers my own eyes are blind and closed
(with passion)!
^JIJ-JJ <-; C—«J jLS" Ju_: ijj JIJ-< -Li j V L J * ' o' oyi
V, 3861-64. 5 5
V, 3 8 8 0 - 8 2 .
returned to his love in the tent. When he appeared
before the beauty his virility was still intact; the
woman was simply amazed at the sight and surren-
dered herself with great passion to him.
^ jL> 7
JUljJl j jl 4/ jljl ; j jl J—«l ^jiil—1
, s
jj/ -S'
J j-Li / i ji j jj_-i ^ j _ JJ—i
At the time of retiring he quickly put out the light. The Hindu was
left alone with the stout man. The Hindu yelled and shrieked, he
begged and entreated him, but owing to the sound of music outside,
nobody heard his cries. The noise of drums, the clapping of hands,
and the clamour of men and women drowned his cries so that the
Hindu fell a prey to the strong man until dawn. The sturdy scoundrel
fell on the slave like a hungry dog falls on food.
In the morning were brought forth the ceremonial copper bowl and
the bells and Faraj, according to the traditional marriage customs,
was led to the bath. The miserable wretch repaired to the bath with
his back shredded into pieces like a tattered cloak.
Hark! Do not be deceived by her rouge, do not taste her sherbet which
is mixed with poison!
Have patience, for patience is the key to joy, lest like Faraj you fall
into a hundred straits. 61
V J
> * «-"Lri» O O * LJ
Since this is a ruin, I had better answer the call of nature.
6 0
VI, 315. 6 1
VI, 3 1 9 - 2 0 . 6 2
VI, 1258. 6 3
VI, 1257.
The two l i n e s g i v e n i n Persian have been translated
into Latin.
Arguing that masculinity does not come from every
male and warning t h e wise against listening to the
fair-spoken ignorant man, t h e poet brings in t h e
dilemma of a eunuch w h o h a s t h e attributes of both
s e x e s and y e t does not belong t o either:
M
JI>*- j i j l ji j l J W U j i Jii j i j l j L* j L L w *i"U
He has two tools and he is a eunuch. The function of both (tools) is
undoubtedly clear.
He hides his member from women so that he can appear as one of
them.
He hides his concealed vagina from men so that he can claim to
belong to their sex.
God saw that from his hidden organ we would make a snout so that
the wise ones do not discover what the dual personality has in store
(for them).
•'"'UJJ- *- 2
bj j ' i i / bj <jj> <Sy* bj j> -V 0>?
' ' (jjl ij'"^ y u» ' " ' n i T i l> jl jl ij iSiji bj£
He became jolly, snapped his fingers and went to the toilet. There he
came across an extremely beautiful slave-girl from the royal staff....
For years the eager bachelor had been full of frustrated desire. He
6 9
VI, 3857 . 7 0
VI, 3868. 7 1
VI, 3941-46.
now immediately pounced upon the slave-girl. The girl resisted and
raised a hue and cry, but it was of no avail. A woman in the hands of a
man at the time of such an encounter is like dough in the hands of a
baker.
And these are similitudes that We set forth for mankind that they
may reflect.
7 3
VI, 4426-29. 7 4
lix. 21.
Select Bibliography
///. Miscellaneous
Ahmed Ibn Kemal Pasha, Nigaristan. MS. in the library of Istanbul
University.
Catholic Encyclopaedia. 15 Vols. 1907-14.
Encyclopaedia Britannica. 1952 Edition. Vols. XIV, XVI, XVIII.
Encyclopaedia of Islam. Luzac & Co., London.
Guide to the Konya Museum.
Shirwani, Zain-ul-'Abidin, Bustan-ul-Siyahah. MS. with Professor
Ali Genjeli of Istanbul University.
Shorter Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1961.
Index
'Abbas Iqbal, 23 n. 'Ali, 204
'Abdul Hakim, Dr Khalifah, 266,270 AliGenjeli,39n.
'Abdul Majid Daryabadi, 71 n. AlpArslan,42
Abel, 199 Alps, 26
Abish, 10 Altamsh, Shams-ud-Din, 9
Abraham, 199,206;seea/soKhalil Amalric,8
Abruzzi, 1 Ameer Ali, 36 n.
Abu 'Ali Sina, see Avicenna, Ibn Sina Amin Ahmad Razi, 50,112 n.
AbuBakr, 49,179,298 Amir Khusrau, 10
Abu Bakr al-Shibli, seeShibli A Moslem SeekerafterGod, 36 n.
Abu Jahl, 199,224;seea/soBu'l- Amu Darya, 29
Hakam ana'l-'abd, 97
Abu'l-Fida,25 Ana'l-Haqq,96,97
Abu Nasr al-Farabi, see al-Farabi Anatolia, 48 n., 99
Abu Nasr al-Sarraj, see al-Sarraj anthropomorphists, 243
AbuNuwas,205 Antichrist, 231;seeaZsoDajjal
Abu Talib al-Makki, 98,99 Antioch, 16,43
Acre, 16 ape-spirit, 186
Adam, 163,181,187,189,190,196, appearances, external scenic, 139
197,201,212,214,231,232,238, Apuleius, 284
241,245,264,265;fallof, 189,240 Arabian Medicine, 93 n.
Adharbayjan,27 Arabs, 213
Afghanistan, 26 Aragon, 14
Aflaki, 50,54,59,60,67,89,105,109, Aral,seaof,27
111,117,120 Arberry, A. J., 159 n.
agens, 103 Archbishop of Bourdeaux, 31 n.
Ahmad, 179,185,206;seeo/so 'arif, 239
Muhammad, Mustafa, Prophet Aristotle, 20,83,99,204,262,277
Ahmad ibn Kemal Pasha, 39 n. Armenia, 42
'Aims ofPhilosophers,' 80; see also Art for art's sake, 145
Maqasid-ul-Falasifah Arzinjan,60
'Ala-ud-Din Kaikubad,44,45,47,60, asceticism, 176,313,320
86 n. 'ashiq,239
'Ala-ud-Din Muhammad (Khwarizm Ashraf, brother ofKamil (q.v.), 17
Shah),21,22,23,26,50 Asia, 11,16,42,68 n.; Central, 22,35;
'Ala-ud-Din Muhammad (sonof Minor, 19,43; Western, 35
Maulana Rumi), 120 Asiatics, 48 n.
'Ala-ud-Din,Sultan,61 AsrarNamah, 88,89n., 91
Alchemy of Happiness, 79 Assassins, 19
Aleppo, 18,43;see a/so Halab Assissi, 8
Alexandria, 80 Astrabadi,39n.
'Attar, Farid-ud-Din, 35,56,57,59,88, Bughra,23
89,90,91,94,168 Bukhara, 25,45
Augustine, St, 19 Bukhari,S.A.W.,7n.
Augustus, Philip, 14,20 Bulgaria, 136
AuliyaChelebi,39n. Bu'l-Hakam (Abu Jahl.q.v.), 224
A verroes, 7,99; see also Ibn Rushd Burhan-ud-DinMuhaqqiqTirmidhi,
Avicenna, 25; see also Abu AliSina, 64,86,167
IbnSina Bustan al-Siyahah, 39 n.
Ayyubids, 16,18 Byazi,48n.
Byzantine.41,42,43,44; Empire, 12,
Badi '-uz-Zaman Farozan Far, see 48 n.,
FarozanFar Byzantium,41
Badr, battle of, 232
Baghdad, 28,29,30,34,35,42,52,59, Cain, 199
60,80,85,94,96 Cairo, 30,99
Baha-ud-Din, Muhammad ibn al- Caliphate, 28,29,290
Husain al-Khatibi al-Baqri, 51,52, Caliphs, 28,290,305
53,54,55,56,57,59,60,61,62,63, Campagna, 1
64,70,71 Caracorum,33
Baha-ud-Din Tusi, the poet, 86 Catalonia, 9
Bahram Shah, Fakhr-ud-Din, 60 Categories, 277
al-Baihaqi,36 Celestial Wisdom,
Balban, 10 certainty, knowledge of, 236; vision of,
Balkh, 25,49,53,54,55,56,57,58,59, 226; intuitive actuality of, 226
88,91,96,108 ChaharMaqalah, 93,94
Baluchistan, 26 Charles XII ofSweden, 27
ftaqa', 154,205,255 China, 27,34,136
Basil 11,41 Chinese, 76,191
Bavaria, 43 Chingiz Khan (Zingis, Temuchin,
Bayazid al-Bistami, 94,95,99,108, Tehimkis,Jenghis,Tchinkis,
113 Chungaze [zin+gis]), 11,17,22,23,
Baybars,18,19 25,26,27,30,33,36,46,55
Beatrice, 131 Christ, 16,242; see also Jesus
becoming, 194,197 Christendom, 35
Being, 101,195,250,255 Christianity, 8,11,16,19,38
Bena,8 Christians,4,5,6,12,100,136
Bergson.150,270 clairvoyance, mystical, 290
Bethlehem, 17 Coleridge, 144 n.
Bhakti movement, 9 Commedia,262
BiographiaLiteraria, 144n. Comnenus, Alexius, 43
Bilqis,291 Companions (ofthe Prophet), 294
Black Sea, 44 Conde,DrJ.D.,7n.
Boccaccio, 284 Constantinople, 5,13,15,43,44
Brahma, 9 continence, 313
Bretschneider, Dr E., 48 n. Cordova, 37,99,262
Brienne, 17 corporealists, 243
Brindisi,17 Cosmic Ego, 185
Browne,E.G.,lln.,26n.,27n.,32n., CosmicSelf,177
35n.,55n.,93,107 n.,131 Crusades, 4,5,6,11,13,14,15,18,19
Browning, 139 cupidity, 297
Dajjal, 231; see also Antichrist DivineSecrets,69
Damascus, 17,18,43,67,68,80,85,99, Divine Spark, 281
117,118,121,126 Divine Transcendence, 196
Damietta,9,16,18 Divine Unity, 250
DamimahMathnaviMaulana, 117 n. Divine Wisdom, 193
Dante, 13,130,261,262 Dominic, St, 7
Danube, 11 Don Quixote, 284
Darwin, 269,270 dualists, 251
Darwinians, Darwinists, 269 Duality, 136,231
DaulatShah, 105,110,120
David, 218
De Boer, 262 East, 4,11,42,51,99,136,262
Deccan, 131 Eastern Empire, 5,41,44
Delhi, 27 Eckhart, Meister, 8
'Deliverance from Error,' 81; see also Edessa,43
al-Munqidh min al-Dalai egoism, primal, 293
Democritus, 269 Egypt, 5,8,16,18,19,30,43,304
de Narbonne, Yvo, 31 n. Egyptians, 30
dervishes, 277 emanation, 204,252
Destiny, 226,276,281 EncyclopaediaBritannica, 175 n.
determinism, 231,235,237,275 Encyclopaediaoflslam, 131
Development ofMetaphysics inPersia, England, 13,14
152 n. Englishmen, 13
Dhakhirah-i-Khwarizmshahi, 93 epistemology,171
dhat, 103; seealso Essence Essence, 101,103,193,253,266; see
Dhu'l-Nun, 94,95,96; see also also dhat
Thawban ibn Ibrahim eternal beauty, 279
Diogenese, Romanus, 42 eternal bliss, 169
Divan-i-Shams-i-Tabriz, 107 n., 128, Eternal Recurrence, 278
130,131,134,141,146,151 n., 153, eternity, 134,136,285
154 n., 159,161,162,164,175,240 Euphrates, 22
Divan (of 'Attar), 89 Europe, 1,2,4,6,7,11,12,14,15,38
Z)iuan(Sana'i),89 European civilisation,4,12,15
Divan (tr. A. J. Arberry), 159 n. European States, 15
Divine Beauty, 102 Eve, 102
Divine Blessing, 98 Everlasting Abode, 245
Divine Command, 274 evolution, 171,186,267,281;creative,
Divine Energy, 231 267,270; dynamic processor,267;
Divine Glory, 240 religious, 259,261,271;strugglefor,
Divine Illumination, 231,280 270; subjective, 125
Divine Immanence, 196
Divine Knowledge, 282
Divine Love, 108 Fak-i-Izafat(e\\a\on), 137
Divine Message, 188 fa'il,104
Divine Names, 104 fa'iliyyah,103
Divine Omnipotence, 10Q Fakhr-ud-DinRazi,seeRazi
Divine Pleasure, 276 fana',205,253,255
Divine Purpose, 260 Farab,24n.
Divine Reason, 183 al-Farabi, Abu Nasr, 83,92,93,262,
Divine Realm, 150 277
FarozanFar,50n.,51n.,54n.,57n., Greece, 5,62; evasive philosophy of,
58n.,64n.,69n.,70n.,79,87n.,117, 169
126,167n.,173n. Greeks, 14,41,43,45,76,192;
fatwas,72 churches, 10; Empire, 43; see also
Fihi-ma-Fihi,50n., 57,58n.,70n., Rumis
71n.,79,88,97,126n.,145n.,167n., Gregory IX, 17
173n. Guelf, 14
Fiqh,63 Guide to theKonya Museum, 39 n.
FirstMover,73 Gurgan,94
Fisher,H.A.L.,lln.,14n.
Flanders, 14 Hadiqah,79,88,89
Form, 73,125,193,208 Hafiz, 158
France, 5,13,15 tfa/i!/o7im,61n.,66n.,110n.
Francis, St, 7,8 Halab, 67,68; see also Aleppo
Franciscan Order, 8 Halivia,67
FrederickII,16,17 Hallaj, Mansur, 91,96,97,99,208,
freewill, 185,231,232,235 243,244,245,264
French feudalism, 5 Hamdullah Mustawfi, 39 n.
Friars, 7 Hanafites,36
al-Haqq,101
Fusus (al-Hikam), 99 n. haqq al-yaqin, 220
harmony, 75,123,134; musical, 73
Gabr,136
al-Harrani,36
Gabriel, 196,198,201,204,205,263 Hasan b. Sabbah, 35,107
Gairdner,78n. hawa, 223
Galen, 184,219,243,278 Hejaz.56,85
GaykhatuKhan,34 Hell, 197
Georgia, 27 Henry ofFlanders, 14
Germans, 14,27 Herat, 25,45
Germany, 6,8,16,43 Hind, 211; see also Hindustan, India
Ghayath-ud-Din Kaikhusru, 86 n. Hindoos, 211
Ghazali,37,38,51,52,53,62,71,72, Hindustan, 25; see also Hind, India
73,75,76,77,78,79,80,81,82,83, Hisam-ud-DinChalapi, 167,168,240
86,93,99,262,263 Hisn al-Akrad, 18
GhazanKhan.il Histoire des Mongols, 55 n.
Ghaznah.21,22,89 History of Europe, 7 n., 1 In.
Ghouls, 260 History ofPhilosophy,
GhulamDastgir,131 History ofPhilosophy inlslam, 262 n.
Gibraltar, 1 History ofthe Arabs, 28 n.
Gnosis, sufi, 256 History ofthe Domination ofthe A rabs
God, attributes of, 73; City of, 19; calls inSpain,7 n.
Himself'Hearing,' 'Knowing,' History oftheGreatMoghuls, 33 n.
'Seeing,' 37; man of, 125,285; real History oftheMongols, 30n.
Agent, 273; realm of, 63; Hitler, 23
transcendent, 262 Hitti,28n.
Goethe, 264 Holy See, 14
GnV>«rKhatun,60 Howorth,30n.,31n.,34n.
^en Horde, 30 Huart,C.,39n.
Granada, 6 Hudson, 134 n.
Grant, 7 n. Hujjat-ul-Islam, 52
Great Feast, 63
Hujwiri.97,98 137,138,147,156,157,173,177,
HulaguKhan.27,29 187,211,216,232,237,239,241,
huma, 244 242,243,244,245,246,247,253;
Hungary, 43 259,260,261,278,280,281;
Husain ibn Ahmad Khatibi, 49 sublime, 132
HusamiNamah, 175 Islam,l,2,3,4,5,7,8,ll,12,13,14,15,
Husam-ud-Din, 175,205 16,29,35,37,38,81,105,106,122,
Hyderabad, 131 166,229
Isma'il Jurjani, Sayyid, 93
Iblis, 102,232,240,273 Israfil(Seraphiel),228
Ibn al-Mu 'tazz, 85 Istanbul, 87
Ibn'Arabi, 99,100,101,102,103,104, istighraq, 97
195 'Izz-ud-Din Kaikaus, 44,68
Ibn Battutah, 110-11
Ibn Hamdin, Qadi ofCordova, 37 jabr, 79,234
Ibn Rushd, 93,262; see also Averroes Jaffa, 17
Ibn Sina, 83; seea/so Abu Ali Sina, jalal, 253
Avicenna jamal, 222,253
Ibn-ul-Athir,25,32,57 Jaml,51 n., 59,102 n., 109,110,120,
IbrahimibnAdham,91,94,95 175
Iconium,41,43,44 Jerusalem, 16,17,43,85
IdeaofPersonality inSufism,51n. Jesus, 163,184,201,202,229;see a/so
Ihya Vlum (al -Din), 71-72,75,76,79; Christ
see alsoRevivalofReligious Sciences </i/wd,HolyWar,63,274
IlahiNamah,89,l68 John, King, 14
II Khans, 28,34,35 John the Baptist (Yahya), 206
'ilmal-yaqin, 220 Joseph, 216,248,260,273,297
Imams, Shi 'ite, 204 Judgment, Day of, 87
'Incoherence of Philosophers,'80; see Juhi,301,302,303
alsoTahafut al-Falasifah Junaid,96
India, 9,22,25,136;seea/soHind, al-Juvaini,22n.,30,57
Hindustan
Indus, 22 Ka'bah, 149,250
Innocent III, Pope, 11,13 Kalabadhi,97
Intellect, 86,128,150,187,190,192, Kaikaus, see 'Izz-ud-Din
194,210,214,238,261,263,279; Kaikhusru, see Ghayath-ud-Din
higher kindof, 150; of intellects, 179, Kamal-ud-Din Ibn-ul-'Adim, 67
265 n.; Universal, 192 Kamilb. Husain, 67 n.
Introduction totheStudyofLiterature, Kamil, Sultan, 17
134n. Kant, 266,275,281
intuition,82,150,190,261,263,264, *as6,79
280 kashf, 100,263
Iqbal, 264n., 270n.,278n.,279n. Kashfal-Mahjub, 94,97,98
Iran, 44,80; seealso Persia Kawakibal-Muziyyah, 109 n.
Iranians, 145; see also Persians Khadir, 183,214
Iraq, 19,136
Khaiil, 250; see also Abraham
'Iraqi, 131
al-Khalq, 101
'irfan, 223
Khuda wandgar, 48
Isabel le, 17
Khulasah-i-Plathnavi,89
7s/i(7(love),75,101,122,129,130,134, Khurasan, 26,42,49,52,94,136,169
khwajah-i-lawlak, 241 Majma'-ul-Fuqaha', 49 n.
Khwarizm, 24,26,50,57 Makhzan - ul-Asrar, 92
Khwarizm Shah, 23,24,25,50,57 al-Makki, see Abu Talib
al-Kindi,92,93,262 Malikah-i-Jahan, 50
Kitab al-Luma', 97 Malikshah,21
Kitab al-Ma"arif,50,70 Mamluk Sultans ofEgypt, 16,30
Kitab al-Ta'arruf, 97 man, city of, 19; development of, 267;
Kitab al-Tawasin,96n. fallen, 19; ideal, 282; immortal, 136,
Kitab al-Tawbah,79n. 137,158; perfect, 163,165,197,204,
Konya, 39,40,41,42,43,44,45,46,47, 205,230,240
55,60,61,64,65,68,80,99,108,110, al-Manahij-ul.Qavi li Tullab-ul-
116,121,124,127,128,153 Mathnavi, 48 n.
Kurdistan, 27 Manaqib-i-Aflaki,5l n., 66n.
Kutabkhanah Salim Agha, 87 Manaqib-ul-Arifin, 48 n., 52 n., 59 n.,
KutulaKhan,30 89n.,108n.
Mansur Hallaj, see Hallaj
LakVan,42
Mantiqu'ttair, 88,168
Lalai Samarqandi, Khwajah, 60
Manzikert,42
Lands oftheEastern Caliphate, 39 n.
Maqalat-i-Shams-ud-Din, 108 n.
Lane-Poole, S.,5n.,6n.,10n.,22n.
La passion d'al-Hallaj, 96 n. Maqalat-i-WaladChalpi, 108n.
Larinda,60,61 Maqasid-ul-Falasifah, 80; seealso
Lawa'ih, 102 n. 'Aims ofPhilosophers'
Lawrence,D.H., 135 al-Marrakush, 99
Lecturesonlslam, 12 n. Mary, 163,202,242
Leibniz, 269 Massignon,96n.
Mas'ud, Sultan, 36
Les Saints desDerwiches, 39 n.
materialists, 83
Le Strange, 39 n.
life, higher goals in, 287 Mathnavis,89
Literary History ofPersia, A, 11 n., Mathnavi Waladi, 61
mazhar, 104
55n.,107n.
Mecca, 1,59,60,99,257
Logos, 241
Lorraine, 43 Mechtild,8
Louis IX, 4,18 MedievalResearches from Western
love, see 'ishq Asiatic Sources, 48 n.
Lubb-ul-Albab, 49 n. Merv,26,45
Lucian,284 Mesopotamia, 27
Lull, Ramon, 8 Metamorphoses, 284
lyricism, 129,130 metaphors, 285
MetaphysicsofRumi, 270 n., 275 n.
al-Ma'arif, 54 Mevlevi Order, 130
Ma'arif-i-BurhanMuhaqqiq,64n.,87 microcosm, 178
Macdonald,D.B.,38n. Middle East, 21
macrocosm, 178 Milton, 275
maddah, 103 Miramar,9
Madrasah Mustansariy a, 59,60 Mishkat-ul-Anwar, 77,78
Magdeburg, 8 MoaningPillar,206
Magna Carta, 14 Mohammad, Mirza, 22 n.
Mahdi,204 MongolEmpire, 11
Majd-ud-Din Baghdadi, 54 Mongolia, 27
majesty, supreme, 142 Mongols,3,9,16,17,19,21ff.,59
Moon, 303 nafs-i-ammarah, 223
Moors inSpain, 5 n. nafs-i-mutma' innah, 223
Moses, 7,168,183,197,202,206,208, Najm-ud-DinKubra,46
210,214,216,222,224,264,274 Names (Asma'), 190
Mosul,43,304,305,307 al-Naqd,82n.
Mu'aviyah,264 Naturalism, 265,269
Mu'azzam, 17 naturalists, 83
Muhammad(theProphet), 12,29,38, Nazareth, 17
51,108,204,228,241,264,280;see Nazis, 23
also Ahmad, Mustafa, Prophet Necessitarianism, 235
Muhammad Ghauri, 9 necessarians, 185
Muhammad Kazvini, Mirza, 102 n. Neoplatonism,262
muhaqqiq, 98 Nero, 285
al-Muhasibi,94 Nicaea, 11,14,42,43
Muhyid-Din'Abdul Qadir, 109 Nicholson,38n.,41n.,76,77n.,78n.,
mujahadah, 98 87n.,91n.,92,93n.,94n.,96n.,
Mu'jam-ul-Buldan,39n. 97n.,98n.,99n.,104n.,107n.,115n.,
MukriminKhalil,39n. 117n., 122n., 130n., 131n., 132n.,
munfa'il, 104 134n., 146 n., 149n., 150 n., 151 n.,
munfa'iliyyah, 103 154n.,175n.,263n.,276n.,277n.,
al-Munqidh minal-Dalal, 78,82, 279 n., 280 n., 283 n., 284,285,292,
263 n.; see also 'Deliverance from 293,300
Error' Nietzsche, 278
muqallid, 98 Nigaristan,39n.
Murcia, 99 Nile.43
mushahadah, 98 NironCaiat,30
music, celestial, 286 Nishapur, 25,45,56,59,88,93
'music ofthe spheres' (Pythagorean NightofPower,212
conception), 73 Nimrod, 199
MuslimCreed, 101 n. Nizam College, 131
Muslims, 2,6,7,8,9,10,11,17,21,37, Nizami, 72
38,39,41,80,87,243 Noah, 164
Muslim Spain, 20 non-space, 178
Muslim States, 29 Normans, 17
Muslim Theology, Jurisprudence and Northern Africa, 1
Constitutional Theory, 38 n. not-being, 101,237
Muslim world,21,80 Noureddin,43
Mustafa, 199;seea/so Ahmad, Nubia, 19
Muhammad, Prophet Nuri,96
Mustansir Billah, 60 Nur-i -dil (light ofthe heart), 77
Musta'sim, 29 Nur-ud-Din Muhammad, 107
al-Mutanabbi,70 Nuzhat-ul-Qulub, 39 n., 44n.
Mu'tazilites,71,150,197,208,210,
217 Ogotoi,33
mysticism, 76,95,96,256 Omar Khayyam, 59,88,92
Mysticism inlslam, 279 n. Orderof Friar Preachers, 7
Mysticsof Islam, 277 n. Orientalists, Western, 284
Osman Turan, 39 n.
Nafhat-ul-Uns, 51 n., 66 n., 109 n.
Nafs, 100,103,222,223 Paganism, 153
Paleologus, Michael, 19 Pehlevi,',40,69,83,89,175
Palestine, 15 Quraysh,232
Papacy, 15 Qushayri,98,99
Paradise, 178,189,196,197,223 Qut al-Qulub,98,99
ParadiseLost, 275 Qutb,204
Paris, University of, 20
patiens, 103 Radi-ud-DinNishapuri,49
Paul, St, 7 Ramanuja,9
Persia, 21,23,25,27,29,33,34,35,42; ratiocination, 172
see also Iran Raudat-ul-Jannat, 54,57
Persian Empire, 21,45 Rayy,36
Persian Gulf, 22 Razi, Fakhr-ud-Din, 53,54,55,57,93,
personality, development of, 272; free, 107
271 Raziya, Sultana, 9
Petronius,284 Reality, 111, 150,171,179,183,187,
Pharaoh, 97,183,208,222,223,224, 193,195,208,209,210,214,224,
244,245,262,274 230,248,249,280; eternal and
Pharisees, 37 temporal aspects of, 176;lifeof,270;
Philip theFair.King, 15 Supreme, 148; ultimate, 266
Pickthall, 12 n. Reason, 77,179,184,188,190,209,
Plato, 7,83,93,262,278 230,262,263,280; Pure, 78;
Plotinus,204 Universal, 187
polytheism, 196 Reckoning, Day of, 234
Pope,4,6,14,15 ReconstructionofReligiousThought
pornography,299 inlslam, 150n.,264n.
Portugal, 14 Redhouse,107n.
pottage-eaters, 311 Renaissance, 2
predestination, 236 Resurrection, 100,193,228,274,300
predeterminism, 235 Revelation, 82,85,86,113,182,264,
Prophet(oflslam),2,69,82,104,149, 280
176,179,181,186,187,188,198, Revival of Religious Sciences,31,81,
199,204,205,210,212,214,226, 82;seealsoIhya 'Ulum
231,232,241,251,280,290,294, Richardl,14
295; see also Ahmad, Muhammad, Risalah Faridun Sipahsalar,51 n.,
Mustafa 126n.
Provence, 1 Risalatal-Qushayriyah, 98,99
Pythagoras, 73 Roman Church, 6,10
RomanEmpire, 12,13,20,21
Qabus ibn Washmgir, 94 Romanjustice, 13
Qaisar-i-Rum, 48 n. Roman Republic, 21
Qamus-ul-'Alam, 39 n. Romans, 13
Qanun, 93 Rome, 13
Qarun (Korah), 189,206,224 Ruh,222
Qasim Anwar Shah, 48 Rukn-ud-DinSanjabi, 39
Qilij Arslan,44 Rum,65,78,136,173
quietism, 186,224,277 Rumi,PoetandMystic, 38 n.
Qur'an, 2,3,12,13,24,36,37,40,62, Rumis, 76
63,69,72,83,104,106,148,176,177,
186,222,232 n., 233,235,271,274, Rustam, son ofZal, 152
284,286,298,314;'Qur'an in
Sa'd b. AbuBakrZangi,54
Sa'di.10,29,.35,92,131,141 Shuhud-i-Haqq, 103
Sadr-ud-Din Qonawi, 47,99 Sicily, 1,17
Saidi(Sidon),17 Siger of Brabant, 20
Saints, Visionary, 113 Sind,210
SaladintheKurd, 10,17,43 Sindians,210
Salah-ud-Din Zarkob, seeZarkob Siyahatnamah, 39 n.
Saljuqs, 11,21,41,42,43,44,45,46,47, SiyahatHatiralari,39n.
48n.,60;oflconium,17 Socrates, 83
Sama', 73,74,160 Solomon, 7,154,206,209,215,291
Samarqand.25,45,57,58 Sophisticism, 235
Samiri,224 Soul .Divine origin of, 262; Infinite,
Sana'i, 57,79,86,87,88,89,90,91,92, 195
168 spacelessness, 161
Sanjar,26 Spain, 1,4,6,7,8,20,99
Saqsin, 136 Spinoza, 265,266
Saracenic Heraldry, 18 n. Spiritoflslam, 39 n.
Saracens, 7 Spirit, Universal, 205
al-Sarraj, Abu Nasr, 97 SplendourofMoorishSpain, 5n.
Satan, 212,264 Stephenson, 79 n., 90 n.
scepticism, 52,135 Sufis, 3,52,54,78,111,130,154,192,
sceptics, 273 195,208,225,226,227,228,229;
Scholasticism, 3 fake,288,301
Selected Poems from theDiwani Sufism. 52,88,91,94,95,96,98,99,229
ShamsiTabru,81 n.,92,107n.,130, SultansofRume,22
131n.,134n.,146,151,154,171 Sultan Walad, 55,61 n., 109,116,119,
self, animal, 281; ideal, 282; immortal, 130,167
135,136 Sunnah,2,230
sensuality, 287,297 SwanihMaulanaRumi,50n.
separation, 250 Sweden, 27
Seville, 99 Sykes, Percy, 27
Shafi'ites.36 Syria, 1,16,18,29,44,60,68,117
Shahnamah. 48n.
Shajarad-Durr, 10 taW(obedience),98
Shams-i-Tabriz,40,68,70,80,107. Tabriz, 34,92,108,117
108,109.110.111,112,113,114, TadhkirahAtish-Kadah, 110 n.
115.130,162,163.164,167,169, Tadhkirah-i-DaulatShah,60,108n.,
170,171.172.175,240 HOn.
Shams-ud-Din (rulerofShiraz), 141 Tadhkirat-ul-Auliya',94
Shams-ud-Din Altamsh, see Altamsh Tahafut-ul-Falasifah, 80; see also
Shams-ud-Din Isfahani, 68 'Incoherence ofPhilosophers'
Shams-ud-Din Sami, 39 n. tajalli, 103,240
Sharh-i-Hal-i-A/au/ai!,54n.,126n. tag/id, 261
Sharh-i-Mathnavi, 104 Taqudar (Ahmad Khan), 11
Sharif-ud-Din.48n. Tarikh-i-Halab,61 n.
Sheba, Queen, 291; see also Bilqis Tarikh-i-Jahan-Gusha,22n.,51n.,
Shibli (Nu'mani), 50 n., 59 n., 88,117 n. 108n.
Shibli.AbuBakr.94,96 Tarikh Mufassillran, 23 n.
Shihab-ud-Din Suhrawardy, Shaikh, Tarikh-i-Wassaf, 54 n.
59 Tariq,5
Shiraz,141 Tartary,25
Tawasin, 97 n. Vaughan, Henry, 269 n.
tawfiq,98 Venus, 303
Templars, 19 Vishnu, 9
Temuchin, 22,23,55; see also Chingiz
Khan WaladNamah,48,60,61 n., 64 n.
Tha marat-ul-Akh bar, 39 n. wali, 222
Thawban ibn Ibrahim (Dhu'l-Nun, Wali Muhammad, 104 n.
q.v.),94 Wassaf, 54
Thilly,262n. Wensinck,A.J.,101n.
Thomas, St, 7 West, 2,4,11,14,19,92,136,275
Thrace, European, 43 Western Church, 13
Tigris, 43,95 Whinfield,87n., 102 n., 115n., 168n.,
Time, 285; a category of 256 n., 260 n., 268 n., 276 n.
understanding, 266; and space, 141, World-Idea, 241
unreality of, 267
timelessness, 207
Traditions, 37,57,63,72 Yaqut Hamavi, 39 n.
Transoxiana, 34 Yahya,206
Tripoli, 16
Tunis, 5
Turanshah, 18 Zafar-Namah, 48 n.
Turkistan,90 Zain-ul-'Abidin Shirwani, 39 n.
Tus,52 Zal, 152
Zangi,43
'Umar, 290 Zarkob, Salah-ud-Din, 125,128,130,
'Union,'251 163,167,170,171,240
Unity, 149;higher,265;sunof,251 Zia,M.,39n.
Ural mountain, 22 Zin,43n.
'Uthman, 290 Zuhur-i-zanasmard, 103
Utrar,24 Zwemmer,S.,36n.