The Song of Murad

The Songs of Murad

(Translated from original Sindhi)

By JHAMANDAS D. BHATIA, B.A., M.R.S.T. (London)

[Murad Faqir (man of God) of Kandri (near Rohri, Sind) came from Baloch tribe and was originally an inhabitant of Dera Ghazi Khan. In the prime of his life he made his living by committing dacoities, his accomplice, among others, being his cousin Rohal, who, later on, became one of the renowned Sufi poets of Sind. His notoriety spread striking terror everywhere and he had ultimately to be externed from Punjab. He then went to Rajputana and continued his marauding until the Prince of Jessalmir drove him out of that territory. He then established himself in Umerkote in Sind. Subsequently, the then Kalhora rulers in Sind offered him and Rohal the gift of lands and they readily agreed to give up their nefarious activities. Later on, Rohal became a minister and Murad, too, became a high official. It was Rohal, however, who, urged by the irrepressible power within him, renounced all worldly possessions and wandered in quest of his Divine Charmer. Murad, too, joined him in these wanderings. The turning-point in Murad’s life came when once some cattle of a neighbouring Syed (religious preceptor) trespassed in Murad’s lands repeatedly even after Murad had brought this to the Syed’s notice. He then complained to Rohal saying that in case the Syed would not arrange to stop that nuisance, he (Murad) would curse the Syed which would indeed be deplorable for a descendant of the Holy Prophet. Thereupon, Rohal exclaimed that speaking to the Syed would not avail; better he who was excited by anger should, slay his ‘self’. These words pierced Murad’s consciousness like a sharp-pointed spear. There and then, covering himself with a sheet of cloth, this ‘wounded one’ lay down till he was blessed with the Sufi’s mystic vision of Oneness with his Maker and His Creation. His death is believed to have taken place a little earlier than 1800 A.D. His poetry, unlike that of Shah Latif, is tinged with an unadulterated Sufi touch. His works in Persian go under the name of “Diwan-i-Murad”.                                                            
–Ram Panjwani and S. L. Shahani.J]

I

I have neither the features, nor the colour, nor have I any sense;
Neither have I smeared the rouge, nor have I applied the antimony;
Neither have I rubbed, nor have I braided the hair.
Neither have I parted my hair, nor have I laboured,
But the One, who is beloved of her Lord, she is, Oh Murad, a real Suhagin.^*

2

The lovers came to sell themselves in the market of love;
Buoyant within, Oh Murad, they ramble about without like languishing birds.
None but he who has felt the pinch can value the wounds of the wounded.
The candy or the eater thereof alone knows the taste of the candy.

3

She, whose beloved is safe, why needs she must spin?
Recklessly she roams about, she does not set string to the wheel
Day after day she wears variegated coloured clothes,
She, who is a favourite of her Lord, Murad, her stars are ascendant.

4

The pill of pain, administered by the physician, Love, leaves not a speck of disease.
Not the slight illness remains within, it drowns all doubt and suspicion;
It tears the veil. It shows the Real to the eyes
Murad, the Beloved is beside the heart, only if you would peep within.

5

Know the I, that you may have Me, because I reside in the I;
Do not look for Me in the deserted places but meet Me in the I;
I am in you and you in Me; do live thus; give up thy doubts;
The man, Oh Murad, thou must know and in Me and to Me must thou bow.

6

Don’t carry thy head with thyself if thou woudst the Beloved meet;
Divest thyself of reason and then step in;
Renounce all the dirty desires of self and rule it into obedience;
No place is there for the living, Oh Murad, for the dead alone can enter.

7

Everyone styles himself a lover, but to be a lover is not easy,
The first symptom of love is to die when alive and then live,
To drink draught divine from the hands of the Cup-bearer every breath of your life,
Then alone is it befitting, Murad, to call oneself a lover.

8

If union be thy goal, make haste to meet,
Place thy foot in the field before others enter;
None but the “headless” ^* can enter the bargain
To die alive, Murad, is useful. All else is useless.

9

The eyes, a merchant, the Beloved, the ware, Love, a broker, we made;
The Beloved we got; the anxiety we forgot; for the bargain we thus paid;
The head and the heart and this body, too, a sacrifice to love we gave
Murad, the Lord hit upon an excuse; we gave a reed, a lac we got, instead!

^*  The one blessed with a husband and so fortunate.
^* Without ego.