Mela Chiraghan, (the festival of lights) is the festival of Lahore held every year to pay tribute to poet and Saint Madho Lal Husain aka Shah Husain. His presence on our cultural and literary landscape has a haunting quality; his life and poetry both are mysteriously challenging and thought-provoking. Interest in him is undying as is shown by the books and studies on him that have come out in the last few years.

Nain Sukh’s novel ‘Madho Lal’ published some years ago was a serious attempt to understand Shah Husain’s unusual life in socio-historical perspective but somehow it became controversial because of author’s boldness as it tried to explore the mystery of Shah Husain’s relationship with his disciple Madho Lal whom he fell in love with. His no holds barred approach provoked an irate response from those who held Shah Husain in high esteem placing him on a pedestal that was beyond the reach of what they call carnal desires.

Another book appeared last year in Urdu language titled ‘Ishq Nama’ by Farrukh Yar on Shah Husain’s life and poetry. It’s a scholarly study done painstakingly that traces the evolution of Sufism in Arabia, Iran, Central Asia and Indian subcontinent with focus on Shah Husain. This book of rare erudition can help us understand the visible and arcane aspects of Sufi tradition. Additionally, it offers probably the best Urdu translations of his lyrics.

The latest book on Madho Lal Husain is ‘The Sufi’s Nightingale’ by Sarbpreet Singh who is a fiction writer, historian and author, based in the USA. It’s a novel about Shah Husain’s life that mainly explores his spiritual odyssey. Sadly, the book is not available to general readers in Pakistan at the moment.

The desire to decode the mystique that surrounds Madho Lal Husain Husain’s personality and creative expression is well-founded. He was a highly educated young man when he underwent a radical transformation. It is reliably reported that when he was praying in a congregation he heard the prayer leader reciting a verse of Quran that said something to the effect that life of this world was nothing but playfulness. The verse is traditionally interpreted as a warning against attachment to ephemeral worldly pleasures. But he inferred a completely different conclusion, left the mosque and declared that life was little more than playfulness. From that point on living playfully became his practice. Consequently, a unique theme emerged in his poetry; the metaphor of playfulness signifying concrete life became an integral element of his poetry. ‘Mother, let me play / who else would play my inning (ni, maae manu khedan de / mera vutt khedan kaun aasi)’? In another Kafi (lyrics) he says: ‘Playfulness is our destiny / the Lord himself bestowed it upon us (Hassan khedan bha asaday, ditta Rabb ji aap asaanu).’ After such a transformation poetry, music and dance became an inseparable part of his being, not merely at an abstract or theoretical level but as actual life practice. This is what provoked the irate clergy who was well aware that Shah Husain was a great scholar and well-versed in Islamic law and yet, in their opinion, was deviating from it.

Prince Dara Shikoh writes in his book ‘Hasnaatul Arifeen’ that matter was reported to the Chief Qazi Abdullah Sultanpuri. He wanted to punish Shah Husain. When the Qazi entered Lahore followed by a dazzling cavalcade, bazaars and streets were closed to facilitate his arrival but he noticed that a man in a red robe was right in the middle of the street least pushed about the protocol. He asked as to who the man was. He was told that it was Husain Dhuda, the same man against whom he already had received complaints for indulging in apparently non-Islamic practices.

When Husain was summoned, he held the rein of Qazi’s horse and said: ’you know, how many are the basic Islamic tenets? Well, five! We both believe in the oneness of God. I don’t fast nor do I say my prayer. Haj (pilgrimage to Mecca) and Zakat (religious tax) are not applicable in my case as I am not rich enough. You are rich enough but you don’t pay zakat and haven’t performed your Haj. You like me are a violator of two injunctions. How come that you would sit in judgment on me?’ The Qazi responded by moving ahead.

Another theme clearly reflected in the verses of the poet who would sing and dance in the streets of metropolitan Lahore is his vivid experience of alienation especially that of alienated labour which was theorised by Karl Marx much later in the 19th century. “What a relief to see my spinning wheel broken! / I got rid of torture (bhal bhaya mera charkha bhann, meri jind azabon chhuti)”, he says in one of his lyrics.

In another delicately beautiful song, he juxtaposes work principle with pleasure principle in an artistic display of disarming simplicity. Employing the metaphor of a female weaver, he shows a stark difference between work and pleasure and the rejection of the former: “A ring adorns my finger / how can I work? / Red shoes adorn my feet / how can I spread myself out to manage the weft?”

People celebrate this poet-saint at the start of spring every year by lighting lamps. That lamps stand for light and illumination which dispel darkness is very obvious. But the act may also have a mythical connection with god Agni that now seems vague and has become part of our collective subconscious. Secondly, spring is also time of regeneration and rebirth. Mustard flowers and kite flying traditionally figured prominently in the spring (Basant) celebrations. Images of the both are found in Shah Husain’s poetry: “mustard flowers in bloom are not forever (Sada na Phullan toriya)” and “I am my beloved’s kite (mein saajan di guddi).”

Mustard crop is no longer seen in Lahore and kite flying has been banned by the philistine bureaucracy of Punjab in the name of public safety. But who can forget what the saint says in his declamatory mood? “This is the only business I am familiar with; we would dance together.” — soofi01@hotmail.com

Published in Dawn, March 4th, 2024