In the mid-18th century was born a child to a respectable and saintly Farooqi family of Daraza Sharif — a peaceful and small village about 32 miles from Khairpur Mirs’ and three miles from the Ranipur railway station.

His name was Abdul Wahab, and he spread the message of divine love through his poetry. He earned the title of Sachal (Truthful) Sarmast, because of his love for truth, which he preached throughout his life.

Sachal was born in 1152 AH (1739 AD) which was the most turbulent period in Sindh as well as Indian history.

Delhi was ransacked by the army of Nadir Shah and the Mughal empire crumbled, never to rise again. Sindh, too, did not escape his wrath.

Internally, the province was torn by strife due to the struggle for power between the Kalhoras and the Talpurs. There are many references in Sachal’s poetry in which he warned the people of the ominous events of the future and the period of foreign domination that would follow.

In one of his couplets, he says

“Yonder towards the West behold!

The sun has not set, though hours passed untold.

The Westerners will you for long enchain,

For long will on you misery and tyranny rain

Millions of you with their swords will they kill,

Your corpses will your fields and forests fill

Here is what the wise advise you in secrecy,

In which lie the seeds of hidden mystery.

Between yourself sow, here is an opportunity,

The seeds of an undying and unbroken fraternity.

Differences and doubts you must shun;

In bonds of friendship stand as one.

Sachal’s poetry embodies the principles of mysticism. He was fond of ‘sama’ (music) and would always be found absorbed in meditation. He wrote his poetry in seven languages, including Sindhi, Seraiki and Persian, and earned titles from his devotees like Haft-i-Zuban Shair (the poet of seven languages) and Sartaj-us-Shuara.

His unmatched poetry comprises kafis, baits, ghazals, masnavis, seh-harfis, mustazad, hamd, jhoolna, gharoli, musaddas and mukhammas.

There are nine compilations of his Persian poetry, notably the Diwan-i-Ashkar and Dard Nama, which consist of mainly philosophical verses. However, his Sindhi and Seraiki work is superb.

Sachal Sarmast used to insist that he never wrote conventional poetry, but it was divine inspiration.

He would say: “Een sukhan az ishq az sharist; kay khan danad en ashaar”

(What I utter is inspired by divine love. It is not just poetry; so how can the ignorant ones grasp its meaning).

Under the influence of poetic inspiration, he would become overwhelmed by a feeling of ecstasy. In this state, his devotees would note down his utterances.

On coming back to consciousness, he would deny having uttered such verses nor would he be able to explain them.

For that reason his poetry sometimes contains difficult to understand words and obscure expressions.

In Diwan-i-Ashkaar, he says: “I bowed before the idol (of love) and sat in the idol house (temple) ……..

As my beloved took hold of my heart and soul all beliefs and faiths were ousted.

I snapped the rosary and put the thread (or noose) of love round my neck.

As my spiritual guide gave me a brimful cup of wine I lost all control over myself and forgot everything.”

He was an ascetic and led a life of piety and self-discipline and lived to the age of 90 years. He passed away on Ramazan 13, 1242 AH (1829 AD) and his belongings were buried alongside the graves of his father, grandfather, uncle and cousins in the mausoleum later on built by Mir Rustam Khan Talpur, the ruler of Khairpur.

As a true sufi and ambassador of goodwill, love and fellow feeling, Sachal Sarmast spoke boldly and urged the people to become united on a single platform.

His heart embraced all men and religion. He spoke many languages of the subcontinent and insisted on the development of a spirit of inquiry in both religious and worldly matters.

He also urged people to suppress their desires for the greater good of humanity and peace and prosperity of the world.

His immortal poetry continues to inspire us in our times of adversity. Though the flower is no more there, its fragrance continues to sweeten the soil of Sindh.

It is a real loss to the world of literature that Sachal Sarmast’s work has not been translated into the main languages of the world and humanity at large has not therefore been able to derive benefit from his repository of wisdom.