Omar Khayyam

Literature is a mirror of national life, and national life the resultant of various influences, partly under and partly beyond the control of man–influences of climate, of physical conditions, of political freedom or political subordination. In the East, poetry formed a vehicle for the expression of sublime thoughts, mystical, philosophical and spiritual, veiled in the garb of the customs, habits and manners of the people of the period. The East is stranger to sea-poetry, such as is found in Heine or Swinburne or Theodore Watts-Dunton. In Eastern poetry, you will rarely find sublime hymns on liberty and freedom such as we can trace in Milton or Collins or Shelley or Victor Hugo. That buoyant hope and invincible optimism–the peculiar characteristics of the poetry of Browning and Tennyson, is almost absent in the works of the poets of the East. In the East, it is not the worship of the political struggle for freedom that inspires the Muse, but it is the longing for ‘the Beloved’, who is veiled within a thousand veils in the sanctum sanctorum of our hearts. It is the struggle to rip open the thick membranes of materialism and draw out the true inner self in its real perspective. All the powers of the poets of the East, their arts, their genius, are concentrated on that subject and that subject alone. The Oriental, by his mental constitution, is mystical, melancholy, imaginative, whilst his compeer in the West is practical.

The periodical epidemics, the periodical invasions with their attendant massacres, the fitful and ever-changing temper of their Kings and Emperors, have caused the poets of the East, especially those of the Middle East, to introduce the note of resignation, melancholy and quietism, in their hymns and ‘Rubaiyats’. Due to the whims and lascivious passions of his sovereigns, the daily sights of exaltation or debasement of his fellow-creatures at their hands without a moment's notice, and the cutting off of bright, young promising lives for satisfying the mere freaks of frantic kings, the poet of the Mid-East laments over the feebleness of human effort, the impotence of human will. These made him regard life as a game of chance and put on a garb of dominant deep pathos in all his poetical works. The note of weariness and disgust with life, the note of utter hollowness of worldly ambitions and wordly dreams of prosperity one finds in the Muse of the Mid-East, are entirely due to the conditions prevailing during the period when the eminent mystic poets of Islam lived. It is the idea of utter forlornness, ennui, weariness and the fruitless attempt to fight against Destiny which had flung them to dust, that impelled the poets of the Mid-East to resort to the joys that are fleeting and ephemeral. No wonder, poets born and bred up in such atmosphere, pass in a single moment from anxiety to exultation and again from exultation to still deeper depression.

To understand Omar Khayyam, the subject of our study, one must therefore have a correct perspective of the period in which he lived and the Sufi atmosphere then pervading the region wherein he saw the light of day. For want of this clear perception, a great deal of misconception exists in the Western world as well as in India. European savants, forgetting the setting in which the drama of his life was played, have done considerable injustice to his thoughts expressed and woven by him in the garb of the surroundings in which he found himself. His verse is expressed in the language of his country and in conformity with the taste which then prevailed amongst his people. He plied the trade of astrological calculations–for he is known as ‘Persian Poet-Astronomer’. All this conduced to the formation of an impression which he least deserved.

Verses like:

"A book of verse underneath the bough,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou¹

Beside me singing in the wilderness,
Were paradise enow."

And again:

"Ah, my Beloved, fill the cup that clears
Today of past regrets and future fears–
To-morrow?–Why, to-morrow I may be
Myself with yesterday's
Seven thousand years."

and many more, undoubtedly give a tinge of sensual ideas specially to lay minds and to those who are out to find fault with everything Asiatic and Islamic. But to a serious student of comparative science and philosophy, there arises on the disturbed ocean of Omar's ‘Rubaiyat’ a bright speck which leads one to believe that there is for certain, some hidden truth for all ages, some answer to the universal quest of the soul of man. Again, to understand Omar, one must have a good deal of information about Sufism, without which it is not possible to understand and follow Omar in the winding maze of the ‘Beloved’ and the ‘wine’ of his ‘Rubaiyat.’ For, example, sings he:

"Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That Time and Fate of all their vintage prest,
Have drunk their cup a round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to rest."

A superficial observer will no doubt attribute expressions occurring in the above Quatrain such as ‘loved’, ‘loveliest’ ‘cup’ and ‘wine’ to the lascivious tendencies of the Poet, although he may have been singularly free from such lustful thought.

In every age, in every country whenever great Teachers appeared, they placed before the world teachings in two different ways: one for the masses in allegories, and the other for the select few, who took life seriously and who chose to follow the Teacher under all circumstances sacrificing all things most dear to them. Such teachings, in Islam, were called ‘Ilm-e-Makhfi’, i. e., hidden knowledge, and the Prophet taught them to his chosen disciples; they in turn, handed down the torch of knowledge to those whom they considered fit to hold and hand it on. The Prophet preferred to wear a ‘suf’, or a woollen garment, which in course of time came to be adopted by some of the companions; hence the term ‘Sufi,’ In the Quran, ‘Sufis’ are termed as ‘Mukurrabins’ (friends of God), ‘Sabirins’ (patient men), ‘Abrars’ (virtuous). Ibn Khaldun, one of the greatest Islamic historians of the time says: "This (Sufism) is one of the religious sciences which were born in Islam. The way of the Sufis was regarded by the then Moslems and their illustrious men as the way of Truth and Salvation. To be assiduous in piety, to give up all else for God's sake, to turn away from worldly gauds and vanities, to remove pleasure, wealth and power, which are the general objects of human ambition, to abandon society and to lead in seclusion a life devoted solely to the service of God–these were the fundamental principles of Sufism." Their philosophy is that in the beginning was God just as He now is–without addition, etc. But for the purpose of understanding His ways, the ‘Salik,’ i.e., the seeker after Truth, is prepared to consider a course of development of the manifestation of the attributes. The Prophet said: "Do not contemplate on His essence, but contemplate on His attributes." The Sufi feels intensely that he is the microcosm of a macrocosm. He is thus the highest point of God's creation. Consequently he feels considerably the separation of himself from the Divinity. No wonder, then, that a Sufi looks upon the Divinity as his ‘Beloved’, a ‘Friend’, a ‘Darling’, and in the ecstasy of his meditation and dancing, he compares the spiritual potion and the ecstatic condition caused thereby to ‘wine’ and worldly intoxication. Moulana Rum sings:

"What is Sufism? ’Tis to find joy in the heart
Whensoever distress and care assail it."

The main theme of a Sufi is, as the same mystic sings:

"Dissolve the body in Thy sight.
Go into sight, go into sight, and go into sight."

The subject of our study lived during the period of Sanjar, 1092-1157. This period was as remarkable and as brilliant as any which preceded or followed it; the number of Persian writers, both in prose and verse, vastly increased, and works on important subjects continued to be produced on a considerable scale in Arabic. Omar, who lived and passed away during the first quarter of the 12th century, belonged to a galaxy of Sufi pearls that adorned the court of Kohrasan chiefs. Born in 1121 at Naishapur, a town in Kohrasan district, of a family known for its astrological pre-possessions, he naturally imbibed not only the teachings of such eminent poet-philosophers as Attar and Nizam'ul Mulk, but also perfected himself in his family lore. His father took particular care of his education in his early days. Under the careful guidance of Imam Mowaffak, his teacher, Omar made considerable progress in the study of astronomy. His fame in that science soon rose to such a height as to draw the attention of Malik Shah, the then chief of Naishapur. He was one of the eight men appointed by Malik Shah for the purpose of reforming the Calendar. The result of his labors was the Jalali era, which according to Gibbon, "is a computation of time that surpasses the Julian and approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian style." In Persia, Omar is more known for his astrological works than for his Sufi disquisitions. But strangely enough, outside Kohrasan, he came to be recognised as pre-eminently great in his poetical works, of which his ‘Rubaiyat’ attained an immortal fame.

Although his name was Omar, he appended to it a poetical name ‘Khayyam’ signifying ‘tent-maker’ due to his having followed the trade of a tent-maker before affluence affected him. In the following lines he alludes to his profession:

"Khayyarn, who stitched the tentsof science
Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned:

The shears of fate have cut the tent-ropes of his life;

And the Broker of Hope has sold him for nothing."

He was not only eminent in astronomy but was famous for his versatility in the sciences. Nizamu'd Din Razi in his book "Observatory of God's Servants" considers Omar as "an unhappy philosopher, atheist and materialist" adducing in proof certain of his verses, one of which is that quoted above.

In his country, as a mathematician and free-thinker, he made himself famous. It was his Algebra that found its way to Europe through Greece. Fitz-Gerald and Whinefield contributed considerably to make the name of Omar a household word in Europe and America, and there sprang up ‘Omar Khayyam Clubs’ where members began the study of his poetical works. He is better known for his ‘Rubaiyat’ or Quatrains. It is in these that the interest of his admiring readers centres. The literature of Omar Khayyam contains some of the best and some of the worst literary works ever produced.

The ‘rubai’ or quatrain is usually of two ‘bayats’ or four hemistichs and hence called ‘du-bayti’. Like an epigram, it is complete by itself and is written like ‘ghazal’ with a particular metre. In the Persian literature a tendency could be observed, previous to Omar, of indulging in expressing inspired ideas in an epigrammatic form. Omar in his ‘Rubaiyat’ perfected this form of versification. It is curious that in Southern India successful attempts should have been made in compressing a complete and independent idea in two lines, as one may perceive in the Tamil ‘Kural’.

Omar was considerably in advance of his age. He was a bold free-thinker and was singularly free from the mercenary flattery and professional panegyric to which, his age was addicted owing to penury and uncertainty of life. Few poets of his time had the rare courage to overstep the beaten groove of thought and versification, and he seems to have led the party that rebelled against orthodoxy. He was foremost among the group of free-thinkers who satirized the narrowness of dogma and taught the futility of piety and virtue based on hypocrisy, and urged on his readers to follow him, in the following strain:

"Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that life flies;
One thing is certain, and the rest is lies;
The flower that once has blown for ever dies,"

And again:

"Myself when young: did eagerly frequent
Doctor and saint, and heard great argument
About it and about, but evermore
Came out by the same door as in I went."

It must be noted that Omar lived at a time when Sufism degenerated and, from its high philosophical and mystical pedestal, was brought down to a materialistic level by its votaries, just as pure ‘yoga’ dwindled into a street and scout ‘tamasha’ by the so-called ‘jogis’ and others in India. His duty, at the period he lived, was to re-purify and to bring to high estimation and standard the followers of that cult. And the method used to accomplish that end apparently created many enemies in and around Persia. Besides, certain views held by him were entirely opposed to those of orthodoxy. From an anecdote in his life, some jump to the conclusion that he was a believer in the doctrine of metempsychosis. For the repairs of an old college in Naishapur, donkeys were used for bringing bricks, One day, while Omar was strolling in the company of some students, one of the donkeys refused to enter the college compound. No amount of persuasion would avail. At last Omar smilingly went up to the donkey and extemporised the following verse:

"O lost and now returned ‘yet more astray’.
Thy name from men's remembrance passed away,
Thy nails have now combined to form thy hoofs,
Thy tail's a beard turned round the other way."

Strangely enough, the erratic donkey entered the premises no sooner Omar finished his quatrain. Those near about asked him with wonder the reason of this. Replied he, "the spirit which has now attached itself to the body of this ass inhabited the body of a lecturer in this college; therefore it would not come in until now, when, perceiving that its colleagues had recognised it, it was obliged to step inside."

It is said that a poet, expressing pain as well as pleasure, becomes at one with all who feel pain. Conscious then of his brotherhood with man as well as with plant life and nature, strength and passion flow into his poetry. Men feel themselves expressed, sympathised with, and empowered by the noble representation of their trouble, and send to the poet their gratitude and sympathy, till he, conscious of their affection, is himself uplifted and inspired. This is amply evidenced in the case of Omar. Gifted with the knowledge of astrology and astronomy, possessed of an ample stock of intuition, his power of seership evolved into definite shape. On one occasion, in the winter of 1114-15, Sultan Muhammad, the Seljuq, expressed his desire, through his prime-minister, to Omar that he should select a favourable time for the Sultan to go hunting, such that the days should not be wet or snowy. Omar having selected such a time, he himself went to superintend the Sultan's departure at the auspicious moment. No sooner did the king start on his joyous sport, than the sky became overcast with ominous clouds; strong wind commenced to blow, and snow and mist supervened. His courtiers, then present, started a critical and contemptuous laughter, and the king was inclined to turn . Nothing daunted, Omar intervened and said: "Have no anxiety, for this very hour the clouds will clear away, and during these five days there will be not a drop of moisture." So the Sultan rode on and the forecast of Omar turned out true in its entirety.

On another occasion, Khwaja Nizami of Samarquand, who was Omar's pupil, writes: "I often used to hold conversation with my teacher Omar Khayyam, in a garden; and one day he said to me, ‘My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.’ I wondered at the words he spoke, but I knew that his were no idle words. Years afterwards, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, I went to his final resting place, and lo! it was just outside a garden, and trees laden with fruits stretched their boughs over the garden wall, and dropped their flowers upon his tomb, so that the stone was hidden under them." Omar himself expresses this very beautifully in verse:

"Ah, with the grape my fading life provide,
And wash my body whence the life has died,
And in a winding-sheet of vineleaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet garden side."

The poetic power acquired through love and sympathy and inspiration, and fed by human love, increases vastly. A fuller emotion, a wider thought, a knowledge of life deepened by imagination into something by far truer than any intellectual philosophy of life can give, fills his verse with the unsought for, revealing phrases which seem to express, with strange simplicity, the primary thoughts of Being and put on the complexion of a Divine source. Such is the case with Khayyam. The whole subject of his ‘Rubaiyat’ is one vast sea, on which the ephemeral pleasures and joys of this mundane world are made to float with a distinctness and in clear-cut forms, in which the Poet excels most. The evolution of life and the changing character of the happiness of the day form a conspicuous theme of his ‘Rubaiyat’. Quatrains like the following, although expressed in the language and habits of the period, conceal under the common garb sentiments eternal in their nature and which all humanity, apart from the barriers of race and religion, share:

"And this I know; whether the one True Light
Kindle to love, or wrath consume me quite,
One glimpse of it within the tavern caught
Better than in the temple lost outright."

And another,

"Indeed the idols I have loved so long
Have done my credit in men's eye wrong,
Have drowned my honor in a shallow cup,
And sold my reputation for a song."

Language improves, religion changes, the conception of the Deity varies from age to age; but amidst endless changes, innovations and alterations in social life and customs, there is human nature ever the same. The themes which once delighted the ‘II-Khanies,’ the Sultans and ministers and the knowing masses of the eleventh century, even today have not ceased to enchant, to captivate, to inspire, to uplift us from "their dead selves to higher things." The poetry of pleasure, the poetry of pathos, surely cannot fail to strike a responsive chord in the human heart. The secret of that richness, freshness and sweetness which a true poet possesses, is supremely visible in Omar's ‘Rubaiyat.’ Omar is conspicuous for his scathing scorn of those who are hypocrites, and observers of external pomp. Although his ‘Rubaiyat’ teems with ‘wine’ and ‘goblets’, ‘Beloved’ and ‘intoxication,’ still there lingers underneath all these, a stream in its nature mystical, elysian and occult. Free-thinker and independent as he was in his thoughts, he never yielded to panegyrics, to which his age was addicted.

1 The nightingale.