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“Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb was a major Sufi thinker of eighteenth-century

India. This is the first thorough study of his contribution. It is done with
such scholarship and depth that no one considering Sufism in the eighteenth-
century, or in the reform movements of the period in general, should ignore
it.”
Francis Robinson, Royal Holloway, University of London, UK

“This is the first major academic work on the Nāla-yi ‘Andalīb, a fascinating
yet understudied Sufi text from eighteenth-century India. Through her impres-
sive research in the manuscripts and acute analysis of the text, Dr Saghaee
has made an important contribution to the study of Persianate Sufism and
modern Islamic intellectual history more generally.”
Fitzroy Morrissey, University of Oxford, UK
Sufism in Eighteenth-​Century India

Sufism in Eighteenth-​Century India focuses on one particular treasure from sur-


viving Persian manuscripts in India, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, written by Muḥammad
Nāṣir ʿAndalīb (d. 1759), a Naqshbandī Mujaddidī mystical thinker. It
explores the convergence and interrelation of the text with its context to find
how ʿAndalīb revisits the central role of the Prophet as the main protagonist
in his allegorical love story with great attention to the circumstances of the
Muslim community during the eighteenth century.
The present volume elucidates ʿAndalīb’s Sufism calling for a return to the
pristine form of Islam and the idealization of the first Muslim community. It
considers his Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya as a derivation of the Ṭarīqa-​
yi Muḥammadiyya, which had an important role in promoting Islam. The
book attempts to clarify and systematize all of the concepts which ʿAndalīb
employs within the framework of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya, such as the
state of the nāṣir and the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī. It addresses controversial
topics in religion, such as the struggles between Shiʿa and Sunni Muslims,
and the controversies between Shuhūdīs and Wujūdīs. It illuminates two key
personalities, Abū Bakr al-​Ṣiddīq and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, and two types of
relationships, the maʿiyya and ʿayniyya, with the spirituality of the Prophet.
The book will be of interest to scholars and students interested in Islamic
studies, Islamic mysticism, the intellectual history of Muslims in South Asia,
the history of the Mughal Empire, Persian literature, studies of manuscripts,
Islamic philosophy, comparative studies of religions, social studies, anthro-
pology, and debates concerning the eighteenth century, such as the transition
from pre-​colonialism to colonialism and the origins of modernity in Islam.

Neda Saghaee received her PhD degree from the University of Erfurt. She
specializes in cultural studies, comparative studies of religions, Sufism, Persian
literature, and old manuscripts. Her research aims to recognize the impact
of mystical and theological discourses, in classical and modern contexts, on
personal life, society, culture, and politics by employing multidisciplinary
methods.
Routledge Sufi Series
General Editor: Ian Richard Netton
Professor of Islamic Studies, University of Exeter

The Routledge Sufi Series provides short introductions to a variety of facets


of the subject, which are accessible both to the general reader and the stu-
dent and scholar in the field. Each book will be either a synthesis of existing
knowledge or a distinct contribution to, and extension of, knowledge of the
particular topic. The two major underlying principles of the Series are sound
scholarship and readability.

Titles include:

22. Sufism in Ottoman Egypt


Circulation, Renewal and Authority in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth
Centuries
Rachida Chih

23. Perspectives on Early Islamic Mysticism


The World of al-​Ḥakīm al-​Tirmidhī and his Contemporaries
Sara Sviri

24. Sufism and the Perfect Human


From Ibn ‘Arabī to al-​Jīlī
Fitzroy Morrissey

25. State and Sufism in Iraq


Building a “Moderate” Islam Under Saddam Husayn
David Jordan

26. Sufism in Eighteenth-​Century India


Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Lament of the Nightingale and Ṭarīqa-​yi
Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
Neda Saghaee

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routle​dge.com/​


middle​east​stud​ies/​ser​ies/​SE0​491
Sufism in Eighteenth-​Century
India
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Lament
of the Nightingale and Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya

Neda Saghaee
First published 2023
by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2023 Neda Saghaee
The right of Neda Saghaee to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in
accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This book is based on a dissertation that was accepted at the Faculty of Philosophy
of the University of Erfurt in 2018.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised
in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or
hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information
storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks,
and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.
ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​13368-​3 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​13371-​3 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-​1-​003-​22889-​9 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/​9781003228899
Typeset in Times New Roman
by Newgen Publishing UK
To the bright star of my life: Liam
Contents

List of Figures x
List of Tables xi
Acknowledgments xii
Notes on Transliteration and Abbreviations xiii
Abbreviations xiv

Introduction 1

1 Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works 36

2 Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World 78

3 Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ


Muḥammadiyya 128

Epilogue 231

Appendices 242
Index 252
Figures

0.1 The first folio of the lithographed form of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb,


Bhopal: Maṭbaʿa-​yi Shāhjahānī, 1308/​1890–​1310/​1892, by
kind permission of the National Library and Archives of Iran 14
0.2 The first folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no.
ACC1440, by kind permission of the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental
Public Library of Patna 15
0.3 The last folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no.
ACC1441, by kind permission of the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental
Public Library of Patna 16
0.4 The first folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no. HL 3721,
by kind permission of the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public
Library of Patna 17
0.5 The last folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no. HL
3721A, by kind permission of the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental
Public Library of Patna 18
0.6 The first folio of the manuscript of Khulāṣa-​yi Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb, no. PC II 48, 1106, by kind permission of the Punjab
University Library of Lahore 19
1.1 The gravestone of ʿAndalīb. Photograph by Prof. Arif Naushahi 47
1.2 The mausoleum includes the tombs of 13 members of
ʿAndalīb’s family. Photograph by Prof. Arif Naushahi 48
1.3 The first folio of Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, no. Ph III 96, by kind
permission of the Punjab University Library of Lahore 61
1.4 The colophon of Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, which gives the date
of completion of this transcription by Mīr Nāṣir Ṣāḥib in
1210/​1795, no. Ph III 96, by kind permission of the Punjab
University Library of Lahore 62
Tables

1 .1 ʿAndalīb’s family tree 38


1.2 Tree of pen names 42
1.3 The naming of characters in the work: a list of aptonyms 56
2.1 Mihr Jahāngīr’s family tree 81
2.2 Mihr Jahāngīr’s companions 91
2.3 Shāh-​i Shāhān’s mediators 94
2.4 Suhrawardī’s Triad of Beauty, Love and Grief (Ḥusn, ʿIshq,
Ḥuzn) and ʿAndalīb’s Triad of the Rose, the Nightingale and
Lamentation (Gul, Bulbul and Nāla) 110
2 .5 Movement from the beginning to the end 115
3.1 The journey of Ghulām Khākī 181
3.2 Mystical geography of the legend of Ghulām Khākī 182
3.3 Characterization in the legend 184
Acknowledgments

This monograph is based on my doctoral dissertation, which was presented


at the Department of Muslim Cultural & Religious History at the University
of Erfurt in 2018. I would especially like to express my gratitude to my super-
visor, Professor Jamal Malik, for generously sharing his pearls of wisdom. He
has been a tremendous mentor to me and I have greatly benefitted from his
invaluable and constructive guidance. I would also like to express my sincere
gratitude to Professor Hoffmann, from the Department of Iranian Studies
at Otto-​Friedrich-​Universität Bamberg, who painstakingly read the text and
helped me to improve the contents with her insightful comments. The advice
and guidance provided by Professor Arif Naushahi has been an enormous
help in working with primary sources and old manuscripts. I am also truly
indebted to the great contemporary Iranian thinker Mostafa Malikian, since
my work materialized under his profound influence and I consider him my
guide on the path of life. I benefitted a great deal from discussing the chapters
and detailed topics with a number of scholars, among whom special mention
goes to Dr. Leonard Lewisohn and Professor Christoph Bultmann. I have
been extremely lucky to have had a very supportive colleague, Dr. des. Michael
E. Asbury, who proofread many pages and gave his beneficial suggestions for
the edition of my text and helped motivate me to strive towards my goal in
the book. I would like to express my deep and sincere appreciation to Jaimee
Comstock-​Skipp, who offered excellent feedback in the development of my
manuscript. I am thankful for her friendship and endless encouragement.
A very special appreciation goes to the German Academic Exchange Service
(DAAD) that provided the funding for the work. Thanks to the generous
support of the librarians and staffs of the Library of Punjab University and
the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library of Patna that helped me to have
access to the old manuscripts and gave permission for the publication of some
folios. I would like to deeply thank my family who were always emotionally
supportive and constantly encouraged me with their best wishes throughout
my research. I dedicate my book to my son, Liam, who is adorable and full
of life.
Notes on Transliteration and Abbreviations

The system of transliteration for Arabic and Persian words is in accordance


with that used in the Encyclopedia Islamica, edited by Wilferd Madelung and
Farhad Daftary, vol. 3 (2011), p. xi and available online at:

http://​ ref​ e ren​ c ewo​ rks.bril​ l onl​ i ne.com/​ e ntr​ i es/​ e ncycl​ o pae​ d ia-​ i slam​ i ca/​ * -​
tran​slit​erat​ion. The dates are based on the lunar (hijrī qamarī) calendar or
the solar Iranian calendar (hijrī shamsī) (Sh.) alongside Gregorian solar
years. English renderings of Qurʾānic verses rely on the translations of the
Tanzil project, available at www.tan​zil.net. Furthermore, other translations
of Qurʾān at www.islama​wake​ned.com/​index.php/​qur-​an are considered.
Qurʾānic citations appear in the following format: sūra number: āya number.
For instance, āya number thirteen of sūrat al-​Hujurāt, the forty-​ninth chapter
of the Qurʾān, appears as 49:13.

System of Transliteration of Arabic and Persian Characters

Consonants

‫ء‬ ʾ ‫ز‬ z ‫ک‬ k Short Vowels


‫ب‬ b ‫ژ‬ zh ‫گ‬ g
‫پ‬ p ‫س‬ s ‫ل‬ l ◌َ a
‫ت‬ t ‫ش‬ sh ‫م‬ m ◌ُ u
◌ ِ i
‫ث‬ th ‫ص‬ ṣ ‫ن‬ n
‫ج‬ j ‫ض‬ ḍ ‫ه‬ h Long Vowels
‫چ‬ ch ‫ط‬ ṭ ‫و‬ w
‫ح‬ ḥ ‫ظ‬ ẓ ‫ی‬ y ‫ای‬ Ā
‫خ‬ kh ‫ع‬ ʿ ‫و‬ ū
‫د‬ d ‫غ‬ gh ‫ي‬ ī
‫ذ‬ dh ‫ف‬ f
‫ر‬ r ‫ق‬ q Diphthongs
‫_​َ و‬ aw
‫_​َ ي‬ ay

‫  ة‬a;at (construct state)


‫  ال‬al-​ (article)
newgenprepdf

Abbreviations

ed. editor, edited by, edition


eds. Editors
EI2 Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd Ed.
EI3 Encyclopaedia of Islam, 3rd Ed.
EIr Encyclopaedia Iranica
CGIE The Centre for the Great Islamic Encyclopaedia
(Dāʾirat al-​maʿārif-​i buzurg-​i Islāmī)
MS Manuscript
n.d. no date of publication
no., nos. number (s)
n.p. no place
p. pp. page (s)
s.v. Subverso
trans. translator (s)
vol. Volume
n.p. no publisher
Ibid. in the same source
Sh. shamsi (solar hijra date)
fl (s). folio(s)
r. Reigned
b. Born
d. Died
ca. Circa
diss. Dissertation
chap. Chapter
fn. Footnote
sing. Singular
d. unk d. unknown
Introduction

This book endeavors to determine the characteristics of Khwāja Muḥammad


Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s (1105/​1694–​1172/​1759) Sufism in eighteenth-​century India
during the gradual disintegration of the Mughal Empire. It does so in terms of
the contents of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb (composed in 1153/​1741). Among the circles
of Sufis in Delhi, ʿAndalīb was a mystical theoretician who propounded the
Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya, or the Sincere Muḥammadan Path, as a
mystical renewal of Islam. As the main repository and legacy for his reflections,
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb provides insight into the Islamic intellectual atmosphere of
Delhi and demonstrates ʿAndalīb’s interaction with the varied groups and
traditions active during the Mughal era, as well as their convergence and
interrelation with the eighteenth-​century cultural, social, and political con-
text. This work has not yet been properly studied in academia, nor are there
any published editions and translations of his works. Accordingly, the aim
of this book is to compensate for such a lack of literature and independent
systematic analysis of ʿAndalīb’s role and importance in shaping the religious
history of the time. Consequently, the primary theoretical contribution of this
book to the field of Sufi studies is to illuminate certain concepts and terms
which ʿAndalīb’s Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya employs within the framework of
a return to an original, pristine Islam. It is an attempt to understand what
ʿAndalīb saw as errors in the debates about the faith during his time based on
his redefining what constitutes true Islam.
ʿAndalīb was connected not only to the Naqshbandī Sufi order, as a des-
cendant of its founder, Bahāʾ al-​Dīn Naqshband (d. 791/​1391), but also to the
Qādiriyya through his wife, who was a descendant of ʿAbd al-​Qādir Jīlānī (d.
561/​1166), from whose teachings the Qādiriyya was founded.1 As Alam states,
both the Naqshbandiyya and the Qādiriyya were the most famous active Sufi
orders at the time, having increased in popularity at a key period in the seven-
teenth century to rejuvenate Muslim spirituality.2 In India, the important role
of Sufism in Islamizing its adherents and expanding Islamic culture can be
discerned from its functions in the social, religious, and political scene and
its aim of reviving Islam.3 Sufi masters were attentive to all facets of life,
from involvement in political affairs as rulers often supported Sufis in order
to legitimize their own political power, to providing solutions for the problems
DOI: 10.4324/9781003228899-1
2 Introduction
of the common people, such as the healing of sicknesses and deliverance from
famine and death. Sufi khānaqāhs drew disciples and devotees from the full
range of classes in society, including traders, aristocrats, soldiers and the
common people alike.4
To explain Sufi traditions in Delhi during ʿAndalīb’s time, the mys-
tical worldview must be considered after the expansion of the school of
Ibn al-​ʿArabī (d. 638/​ 1240), who is sometimes called al-​shaykh al-​akbar
(“the greatest master”). Heated debates in Sufi communities took place on
his interpretations of the concepts of unity (tawḥīd): the “unity of being”
(waḥdat al-​wujūd).5 His school was extended over time after commentaries
on his works, Futūḥāt al-​makkiyya and Fuṣūṣ al-​ḥikam, were written. Some
key figures in the elaboration of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s thought are Ṣadr al-​Dīn al-​
Qūnawī (d. 673/​1274), ʿAbd al-​Razzāq al-​Kāshānī (d. 730/​1330) and Dawūd
al-​Qayṣarī (d. 751/​1350). Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s teachings applied philosophical lan-
guage to strengthen the theoretical aspect of Sufism. Sufi literary tradition
in all parts of the Islamic world came to be greatly under the influence of
the terminology of his waḥdat al-​wujūdī theology, and it was through the
mystical literary works of Nūr al-​Dīn ʿAbd al-​Raḥmān Jāmī (d. 898/​1492)
that India became familiar with waḥdat al-​wujūd. Jāmī’s works like Silsilat
al-​dhahab, Lawāʾih and Naqd al-​nuṣūṣ fī sharḥ Naqsh al-​Fuṣūṣ played an
important role in shaping the Sufi traditions of India.6 Among the prominent
representatives of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s school in India are the names of two Chishtī
masters: ʿAbd al-​Quddūs Gunguhī (d. 944/​1537) and Muḥibb Allāh Ilāhābādī
(d. 1057/​1648),7 who began the tradition of writing commentaries on Ibn al-​
ʿArabī’s works. Shaykh ʿAbd al-Karīm Lāhurī (d. 1045/​1635) commentary
on the Fuṣuṣ al-​Ḥikam can be mentioned among this trend.8 In the Indian
religious context, waḥdat al-​wujūd provides an opportunity for interactions
to take place between Muslim ascetics and Sufis with Hindu sages and Yogis
who all looked for similarities between Sufi teachings and Vedantic wisdom.9
Through the lenses of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s worldview, the figure of the Prophet
Muḥammad was spiritually and historically revised. The spiritual aspect of
his character was discussed in Sufi circles under the topics of the Reality of
Muḥammad (al-​Ḥaqīqat al-​Muḥammadiyya), and the Light of Muḥammad
(al-​Nūr al-​Muḥammadī).10 Considering that the Prophet Muḥammad in mys-
tical cosmology and prophetology has borne the idea of the perfect man (al-​
insān al-​kāmil), who is introduced as an all-​comprehensive engendered being
(kawn jāmiʿ). The perfect man is the locus (maẓhar) of the comprehensive
manifestation (tajallī) “from the Divine names to the immutable entities”
in comparison with all creatures that benefited from the Being in different
degrees.11 Moreover, discussions about the status of the friend of God (walī)
and the role of the seal of the friends of God (khātam al-​awliyāʾ) were also
topics in Sufi circles. Awliyāʾ convey the Prophet’s spirituality and they were
perceived as mediators between the divine world and the corporeal world.
The Naqshbandiyya were important in India for their attempts to preserve
Islam against syncretism and the acceptance of Hindu ideas and practices
Introduction  3
by adherents to the notion of waḥdat al-​wujūd. It was under the influence of
Aḥmad al-​Farūqī al-​Sirhindī (d. 1034/​1624) that Aurangzeb (r. 1068/​1658–​
1118/​1707), the sixth emperor of the Mughal Empire, ordered Muḥibb Allāh
Ilāhābādī’s commentaries on Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s work burned.12 Sirhindī was a
disciple of Khwāja Bāqī Biʾllāh (d. 1012/​1604), who is known for having firmly
established the Naqshbandiyya in India. He is famous as an eminent criti-
cizer of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s ideas and for representing the notion of the “unity of
vision” (waḥdat al-​shuhūd).13 Living over 1,000 years after the rise of Islam,
Sirhindī was viewed as the reviver of the second Islamic millennium (mujaddid-​
i alf-​i thānī),14 who sought to push the Muslim community toward a renewal
of Islam. He was famed as a great sharīʿa-​minded15 master, advocated Sunni
orthodoxy and decried what he viewed as distortions of Islam, including
faithlessness, the innovations of the Shiʿas, the pantheist views of Hindus and
the humiliation of Muslims.16 For Sirhindī, Sufism is the inseparable inner
aspect of religiosity, but it must be strictly compatible with sharīʿa. In his
point of view, sharīʿa is the outward aspect of religiosity.17
Sirhindī was inspired by the critical attitudes concerning the concept of
waḥdat al-​wujūd in the teachings of ʿAlā al-​Dawla Simnānī (d.736/​1336), a
well-​known Kubrawī master.18 He advanced the concept of waḥdat al-​shuhūd,
which pertains to the matter of ontological tawḥīd and emphasized tran-
scendence (tanzīh)19 over similarity (tashbīh) in the understanding of tawḥīd.
This tanzīhī point of view underscored a distinction between the Creator and
creatures, since he believed that duality is necessary for a proper understanding
of tawḥīd.20 Considering three degrees of knowledge or certitude (yaqīn); that
is the knowledge of certainty (ʿilm al-​yaqīn), the vision of certainty (ʿayn al-​
yaqīn) and the truth of certainty (ḥaqq al-​yaqīn); Sirhindī uses the allegory of
the sun and stars and explains that

the wujūdī would deny the existence of the stars while looking at the
sun, because he is overwhelmed by the spectacle and cannot see anything
except the sun itself. His view is patently wrong. The shuhūdī, on the
other hand, knows that the stars do exist, though he also sees only the
sun. His consciousness is in the stage of ʿayn al-​yaqīn, while that of
the wujūdī remains at the lower stage of ʿilm al-​yaqīn. The highest stage
of conscious, that of ḥaqq al-​yaqīn, can be reached when the sight of the
onlooker is sharpened to such an extent that can see the stars and the sun
simultaneously.21

Ḥaqq al-​yaqīn is attainable at the end of the path, and this is achieved through
perceiving the unity of God. As far as tanzīhī and tashbīhī standpoints are
concerned, highlighting the tashbīhī aspect of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s teaching ignores
all aspects of his worldview. From a theosophical perspective, Chittick argues
that Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s waḥdat al-​wujūd considers God as the Necessary Being
(Wājib al-​Wujūd), the absolute possessor of being and “everything other than
God” (mā siwā Allāh) receives its being from God. Attributing being only
4 Introduction
to God affirms monotheism and a tanzīhī perspective. However, the tashbīhī
side of his worldview is to consider that the act of being can be attributed
to things or entities (aʿyān) as unveiling and self-​disclosure (tajallī) and the
self-​manifestation (ẓuhūr) of being. In this way, Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s notion can
be cited: “ “He/​not He” (howa lā howa), which is to say that they are both
God and other than God, both wojūd and other than wojūd.”22 The contro-
versial topic was shaped around the relation of human beings to the creator
regarding the issue of annihilation and union with God.23
Sirhindī’s adherents, known as Shuhūdīs, as representatives of sharīʿa-​
based Sufism, accused the followers of Ibn al-​ʿArabī, known as Wujūdīs, of
misunderstanding Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s message. The Wujūdī standpoint thrived
in the Indian religious environment, with its pantheistic beliefs and monism,
which denied the separation between God and creatures. What was under-
stood as waḥdat al-​wujūd, according to Chittick, was the technical elaboration
of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s thought based on the commentaries mainly derived from
Ibn al-Fāriḍ’s (d. 632/1234) Tāʾiyya and its interpretation by Saʿīd al-​Dīn al-​
Farqānī (d. 695/​1296). In addition, in attributing waḥdat al-​wujūd as the main
characteristics of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s teachings, the role of Ibn al-​Taymiyya as
an opponent is significant. His criticism targets the notion of the Reality of
Muḥammad. Dividing Sufis into Shuhūdī and Wujūdī groups must not ignore
Sirhindī’s respect for Ibn al-​ʿArabī and should also take into account his
attempts to deeply perceive the reality of unity. The shaping of the contradic-
tion between waḥdat al-​wujūd and waḥdat al-​shuhūd, or an intoxicated Sufism
against a sober Sufism or a tanzīhī point of view against tashbīhī, was the
product of the writings of modern thinkers as well as a growing tendency to
construct an Indian identity of Islam by emphasizing Sirhindī’s thought.24
The variety of reactions within any given order, like the Chishtiyya, Qādiriyya
and Naqshbandiyya, to the strong popularity of waḥdat al-​wujūd is consid-
erable. For instance, while Bandi Nawāz Gīsū-​Darāz (d. 825/​1422), a famous
Chishtī shaykh, was against Ibn al-​ʿArabī and rejected his way of thought
and said “this Muḥyī al-​Dīn (“the reviver of religion”) who in the meaning is
Mumīt al-​Dīn (“the destroyer of religion”), of course, attempted to eradicate
the faith.”25 However, Shaykh Muḥibb Allāh Ilāhābādī Chishtī wrote a work
entitled al-​Tawsiyya and was an adherent of Ibn ʿArabī and an interpreter of
his Sufism.26
In the above-​ mentioned debates, it is not surprising that among the
Naqshbandīs who rejected Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s thought, ʿAndalīb and some of
his contemporaries respected him and accepted his terms and concepts in
spite of adopting Sirhindī’s critical stance at the same time. It can be argued
that their familiarity with two different mystical worldviews opened the door
for discussions to criticize any deviations and misunderstandings of Ibn
al-​ʿArabī’s teachings in the polytheistic-​based context of India. Therefore,
ʿAndalīb along with his son are two figures that argue against the pantheistic
aspects of popular Wujūdī Sufism, which was under the influence of indi-
genous religious beliefs, while their works are replete with Ibn al-​ʿArabian
ontology and concepts such as al-​insān al-​kāmil and wilāya.27
Introduction  5
The role of ʿAndalīb’s thought must be compared to the teachings of
other contemporary religious intellectuals who were also pioneers in Islamic
revivalism. In doing so, ʿAndalīb’s name must be mentioned alongside the
best-​known Naqshbandī Mujaddidī figures in Delhi of that time, Shāh Walī
Allāh (d. 1176/​1762) and Mīrzā Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān (d. ca. 1195/​1781). Unlike
ʿAndalīb, both masters were well-​ known and were surrounded by many
devotees. They held seminars in mosques and khānaqāhs which were filled
with disciples. All three men perceived serious threats to Muslim society that
threatened the purity of their faith. They were, each in their own way, motivated
to strengthen the Muslim community and improve the lives of adherents by
championing political, social, and ethical empowerment. Thus, they sought
to strengthen beliefs by calling for a renewal of Islam, meaning a reorienta-
tion of Sufi tradition and the return to a pristine form of Islam according
to the Qurʾān and the sunna.28 The regeneration of sharīʿa led to the strict
observance of divine laws and the imitation of Prophetic morality and values.
In spite of having such common concerns and while sharing a Naqshbandī
background, they each presented different approaches. It can be argued that
after Sirhindī’s death, his reformist thought was spread by his followers across
South Asia and beyond, making the Mujaddidiyya a highly influential branch
of the Naqshbandiyya during the eighteenth century and up to the present.29
However, it might be better seen as an ensemble of spiritual traditions, as
his teachings were interpreted in different ways by subsequent generations of
Mujaddidī masters. Based on their various understandings, many sub-​orders
have branched out from the Mujaddidiyya, such as the Khālidiyya, Sayfiyya,
Ṭāhiriyya, Qāsimiyya, and Ḥaqqāniyya, thus making it neither a uniform nor
a centrally organized sub-​order of the Naqshbandiyya.30
Shāh Walī Allāh, who has come to be the most famous pioneer of Islamic
revivalism in the eighteenth century, wanted to bridge the gap between
Muslims of different groups. His aim was to examine and assess theology
and Sufism according to the Qurʾān and sunna.31 He wrote Ḥujjat Allāh
al-​bāligha32 and translated the Qurʾān from Arabic into Persian in a work
entitled Fatḥ al-​raḥmān. With this significant Persian translation, he opened a
new stage of ijtihād and the interpretation of Islamic law based on temporal
and local circumstances.33 He called himself the “preserver of time,” qāʾim
al-​zamān, and as Rizvi states, Walī Allāh believed that “the Divine grace, as
well as his own intuitive knowledge and mystical clairvoyance, enabled him
to perform the impossible task of smoothing over differences and harmon-
izing (taṭbīq) the traditional mystical and rational sciences of Islam and all
the conflicting views and beliefs associated with them.”34 The center of his
activity and the place where his pupils gathered was a mosque and his house,
both of which were located in the heart of Shāhjahānābād near the Jāmiʿa
Masjid.35 Regarding Ibn ʿArabī’s teachings, Shāh Walī Allāh, in his works like
Fayṣala-​yi waḥdat al-​wujūd wa al-​shuhūd, advanced synthesis of the Wujūdī
and Shuhūdī approaches as two different perspectives which are essentially
similar. His peaceful tendency in this regard caused Mujaddidīs after him to
become more moderate in Wujūdī/​Shuhūdī polemics. However, his teachings
6 Introduction
evoke the intellectual environment investigated in this study and its pro-
lific aspect was for the interactions of Sufis to participate in this debate. An
example of criticizing, rejecting, defending, and responding could be found in
the work of Mawlawī Ghulām Yaḥyā, Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān’s disciple, against
Shāh Walī Allāh’s attitude and the continuity of debates by followers of Shāh
Walī Allāh to support his approach, such his son Shāh Rafīʿ al-​Dīn’s Damgh
al-​bāṭil.36
Mīrzā Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān, a prominent Naqshbandī Sufi poet of Delhi,
contributed to the development and revival through his teachings. Maẓhar
was concerned that Islam had been damaged by struggles between the Shiʿa
and Sunni. He envisioned a remedy to purify beliefs by following the sunna.
He was known as the “Shaper of Sunnis” (Sunni tarāsh) for his insistence on
firm adherence to the sunna, and for encouraging the conversion of Shiʿas to
Sunni Islam.37 His ideas were considered as a Sunni attempt to decrease the
political power of Shiʿa members of the Mughal court.38 He was surrounded
by numerous disciples and his Naqshbandī sub-​order came to be known
as the Maẓhariyya Shamsiyya.39 The close association of his disciples with
possessors of power like Najīb al-​Dawla (d. 1184/​1770) and the backing of
the Rohilla Afghans was a reason that his circle of followers extended to
North India.40 It could be argued that his acknowledgment that the Vedas are
among the divinely revealed scriptures was a part of a tendency to encourage
interfaith dialogue.41 It links his attempt for understanding Hindu wisdom to
a tendency that began with the comparative work of Abū Rayḥān al-​Bīrūnī (d.
ca. 444/​1052), Taḥqīq mā lil-​Hind, along with contributions by Dārā Shukūh
(d. 1069/​1659) in translating the Upanishads. However, Jān-​i Jānān’s approach
from a Sunni perspective does not agree with Hindu rituals and the religiosity
of common Hindus in spite of respecting the knowledge of Hindu elites.42 In
literary circles, he was considered one of the “four pillars of Urdu poetry”
in Delhi and an influential figure in the emergence of Urdu as a literary lan-
guage. His thought and teachings convey his perspectives on local problems,
and in them he gives instructions for how to follow his path. These thoughts
can be accessed in his Dīwān, a collection of poetry written in both Persian
and Urdu, as well as two treatises entitled Risāla-​yi sulūk-​i ṭarīqa and Risāla-​
yi tanbīhāt-​i khamsa, writings against certain Shiʿa beliefs; and a collection of
letters entitled Kalimāt-​i ṭayyabāt. Qadri, in Muslim-​Mystic Trends in India,
believes that one feature of his works that makes them distinguishable is that
they utilized a clear and understandable vocabulary which attracted common
people rather than employing complicated and erudite words.43

Returning to a Pristine Islam from a Mystical Perspective in the


Eighteenth Century
From a political point of view, the weakness and deterioration of the Mughal
Empire resulted in social and political upheaval during ʿAndalīb’s lifetime
that inspired him to pursue a mystical revival of Islam. The century’s chaos
Introduction  7
and the court’s defeats caused some scholars to call it a “dark age.” According
to ʿAlavī in The Eighteenth Century in India, advocates of this classification
were mostly imperialist, nationalist historians and colonial authors such as
James Mill, Jadunath Sarkar, Iswari Prased, and Tara Chand.44 Their opinion
has been questioned by many other scholars such as John O. Voll, who
criticized this labeling as being one-​dimensional.45 Jamal Malik asserts that
“the orientalist perception of a ‘dark age’ and stagnation which culminated
by around 1750, aimed to emphasize the flourishing enlightenment of Europe
juxtaposed against the barbarism and despotism of the Orient.”46 This
opinion sought to legitimize the British conquest and occupation of India. In
her book The Mughal Empire and Its Decline, Hintze offers a new perspective
to the debate on the “dark age” label and instead suggests using “change”
in order to describe this period of time and to try to answer the question of
how “change” was perceived.47 In this way, Malik describes such “change” as
having already been inherent in paradigms before the colonial penetration
of the Orient.48 A group of revisionist scholars, such as K.N. Panikkar, C.A.
Bayly, Muzaffar Alam, and Chetan Singh, concentrated on the progressive
economic and social outcomes of reform to power structures in spite of pol-
itical and agricultural declines.49 However, revisionists still acknowledge the
weakness of eighteenth-​century movements.50
Hintze considered the eighteenth century in relation to the beginning of
colonialism as a “temporary power-​vacuum between two great empires, the
Mughal empire and the British empire.”51 Such insights into this century
divide it into two parts: pre-​colonial, before the 1750s; and colonial, after
the 1750s.52 This perspective considers the death of Aurangzeb in 1707 as a
historical turning point since after that, the Mughal Empire lost its stability
and power. The second important political shift was the Battle of Plassey in
1757.53 In this struggle, the British East India Company defeated the nawāb
of Bengal. These dates are important since the structuring and flourishing of
ʿAndalīb’s thoughts and teachings lie between these two poles: 1707 and 1759.
A view held in the present book is the theory that decline must be restricted
to the political sphere. The concurrent cultural-​religious sphere was, from the
perspective of intellectual history, actually thriving and prospering despite
hardships in the course of daily life.54 This belief stands in contrast to the idea
of a cultural failure that has been presented by some scholars, such as Athar
Ali, who believes that the political impoverishment of the Mughal Empire
was part of a widespread cultural crisis in the Islamic world.55 However, the
understanding of the Islamic experience in the eighteenth century announced
as a result of debates in the last decades on what has been called Sufi reform
by some Western scholars writing about pre-​modern and modern Islam, an
idea that carries elements of revitalization rather than weakening.
Using the concept of “reform” frames such development as a new vigorous
stage in the mystical interpretation of Islam. Like-​minded proponents of this
definition are Reinhard Schulze, John O. Voll, C.A. Bayly, and Jamal Malik.
This idea, however, has had some critics such as Bernd Radtke who criticized
8 Introduction
and denied the existence of such reform and enlightenment elements. This
Sufi reform led to a reorientation and transformation of Sufism that split into
two realms. According to Voll, it was: “A significant evolution in Sufi theo-
logical and philosophical positions as well as a further development of the
organization of the ṭarīqa and its function in society.”56
The notion of Sufi reform is supported by many scholars, such as Schulze,
Levtzion, Voll, Esposito, and Schimmel, who define it as an intellectual devel-
opment of the Islamic world and the root of Islamic modernity.57 Schulze
believes in an Islamic enlightenment and calls for the “historiographical eman-
cipation of the Islamic eighteenth century as a point of original equivalency
to the European age of enlightenment and revolution.”58 He calls attention
to the need for contextual studies of eighteenth-​century writings as a means
to uncover the origins of renewal in Islam. Such suggested research has even
been emphasized by Rudolf Peters, a critic of the idea of an Islamic enlight-
enment,59 as well as in O’Fahey and Radtke’s critical paper, “Neo-​Sufism
Reconsidered.”60
Fazlur Rahman is the most famous scholar to apply the term neo-​Sufism
to reformist currents in Sufism between the eighteenth and nineteenth cen-
turies as a description of a different phase of Sufism, though he considers
Ibn al-​Taymiyya (d. 728/​1328) as the first neo-​Sufi.61 Generally, the Sufis of
the Islamic world contributed to building stable places for Islam. They aimed
at finding solutions to local and internal problems.62 Among them we can
mention the Khalwatiyya63 in Egypt and the Naqshbandiyya in the Mughal
and Ottoman empires.64 In this regard, neo-​Sufism extensively supported a
gradual literary modification that adopted vernacular languages to spread
reformist thinking by attracting the attention of the common people.65
One of the most important critical studies of neo-​Sufism was carried out
by Radtke and O’Fahey in their article “Neo-​Sufism Reconsidered.” They
demonstrate substantial continuity with the medieval period in the textual
production of Sufis, and contextualize the materials in pre-​modern Islamic
mysticism. Radtke and O’Fahey warn that the label of neo-​Sufism should be
used with discretion in light of Sufism’s rich history. They use neo-​Sufism to
refer to the specific organizations of Sufi orders only in certain areas.66 The
label of reformist Sufi could instead be used for brotherhoods who challenged
colonial powers, such as those Sufi networks that resisted Italian and French
colonization in North Africa.67
Regarding analysis of intellectual tendencies in the eighteenth century,
Ahmad S. Dallal’s Islam without Europe is a recent study that reconsiders the
contested theories of decline and stagnation. It examines the orientalist and
revisionist historiographies of the eighteenth century. He considers Fazlur
Rahman’s neo-​ Sufism to be very rationalist68 and to pay little extended
attention to religious, cultural, and indirect social concerns. To elucidate the
intellectual side, he explains: “The reform tradition of the eighteenth cen-
tury questioned classical knowledge and self-​consciously set out to remake it.
It sought to rehabilitate its present by renegotiating its relationship with the
Introduction  9
past.”69 According to Dallal, the Sufis’ reactions to the reformists’ criticizing
attitudes must not be understood merely as defensive as this ignores the pro-
ductive sides.70
Accepting the fact that the topics on Sufi reform and neo-​Sufism in the
history of Sufism are today generally seen as being out of date, this book
benefited from these older debates that provided criteria for categorizing
emphasized features of Sufism in the eighteenth century. Recent scholarship
uses debates concerning neo-​Sufism to analyze Sufi reform in the intellec-
tual history today, as Khaled El-​Rouayheb believes in his Islamic Intellectual
History in the Seventeenth Century.71 He strictly believes that a western
interpretation of Islamic tradition imposed neo-​Sufism by applying foreign
concepts of renaissance, enlightenment, and humanism for the eighteenth-​
century Sufism in these debates.72
Applying O’Fahey and Radtke’s summarized characteristics of eighteenth-​
century Sufism by way of nine categories is useful for understanding important
dimensions of ʿAndalīb’s Sufism, as well as more broadly to the historical
experience of Muslims during that century. These are:

a) Rejection of “popular” ecstatic Sufi practices, e.g. dancing, the “noisy”


dhikr, saint worship and the visiting of saints’ tombs. b) Rejection of
Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s teachings, especially his doctrine of waḥdat al-​wujūd. c)
Rejection of the murshid/​murīd relationship and the hierarchical mys-
tical Way leading to fatḥ or “illumination”; emphasis on moral and
social teachings. d) “Union” with the spirit of the Prophet, with a gen-
eral emphasis on “The Muḥammadan Way”, Ṭarīqa Muḥammadiyya. e)
Legitimation of the position of the order’s founder through his having
received prayers, litanies and his authority generally directly from the
Prophet. f) Creation of mass organizations hierarchically structured
under the authority of the founder and his family; “Whereas earlier
teachings of taṣawwuf meant passing on a devotional tradition, in the
eighteenth century in the newly-​styled orders it implied initiation into
a social organization”. g) Renewed emphasis on Hadith studies, espe-
cially, “The importance of studying the earliest possible texts of Hadith
rather than the later standard collections”, h) Rejection of taqlīd and the
assertion of the right to exercise ijtihād. i) The will to take political and
military measures in the defence of Islam.73

The term orthodoxy here is applied to show the sharp distinctions between
Islamic groups. It pertains to a group which claims to practice according
to sharīʿa, the Qurʾān and the sunna and casts their opponents as unlawful
heretics. Labeling orthodoxy changes considerably in different times and
places. It has been criticized when employed with reference to Islam, with
alternatives like orthopraxy and Islamic normativity being proffered in
its place, but orthodoxy is used here out of convenience and familiarity to
most readers.74 Using the term orthodoxy in relation to Islam derives from a
10 Introduction
Christian western perspective that refers to traditionalists, who believe in the
sole authority of scriptures. In Muslim terminology, this dichotomy could be
referred to the people of ḥadīth (ahl-​i ḥadīth) against rationalists (ahl-​i ʿaql)
according to Shahristānī, or people of transmitted reports (ʿulamāʾ al-​rusūm)
against people of truth (ahl-​i ḥaqq) and the people of inward meaning (ahl-​i
bāṭin) against the people of outward meaning (ahl-​i ẓāhir) in the words of Ibn
ʿArabī.75
What has been called an orthodox trend in Sufism traces back to the
teachings of early Islamic thinkers, such as Junayd al-​Baghdādī (d. 297/​910)76
and Abū Ḥāmid al-​Ghazālī (d. 504/​1111),77 and it was later promoted in the
interpretations of Ibn al-​Taymiyya. In India, orthodox approach can be seen
in the teachings of Sirhindī, ʿAbd al-Ḥaqq Dihlawī and later the views of
Shāh Walī Allāh,78 who reacted against the pantheistic creeds of the followers
of waḥdat al-​wujūd and many other features of popular Sufism for spreading
un-​Islamic and polytheistic practices like the worship and veneration of saints
along with the visitation of their tombs.79 In sum, their attempt to Islamize
the surrounding society with an emphasis on Islamic identity gave an exclu-
sivist color to their attempts.80
So-​called orthodox Muslims follow the Prophetic sunna as a model.
A perceived pristine form of Islam in the Prophet’s time became idealized,
since Islam after the conquests faced interactions with a variety of soci-
eties, regional cultures and the pre-​Islamic beliefs that caused it to adopt
some innovations in faith and practice. Therefore, the study of ḥadīth litera-
ture became important as the demand for reform was increasing. Malik has
noted that emulating the sunna in faith and practice was a means to guide
Muslims by connecting them to prophetic authority in the earliest period of
Islam.81 The reformists’ concern was to purify ““alien” features and “super-
stition,” thereby its former greatness,” as Alexander Knysh pointed out.82
Reconstructing the life of the Prophet and the early community of Muslims
was held as an ideal and a source to perceive the “pristine” form of Islam,
before it encountered a variety of societies, regional cultures and non-​Islamic
beliefs. In doing so, many contemporary Sufi masters who cited false ḥadīths
or ecstatic utterances of the great Sufis in their sermons were criticized for
misleading their disciples.83 In India, the most prominent scholars in the study
of ḥadīths were above-​mentioned ʿAbd al-​Ḥaqq Dehlawī, who wrote Madārij
al-​nubuwwa.84 Studying ḥadīths became important as a basis for Islamic know-
ledge in Shāh Walī Allāh’s teachings. For him, ḥadīths functioned as “a neu-
tral mediator” between a variety of Islamic tendencies and was also a means
for unification.85
Although the Prophet was considered the exemplar par excellence, he
also became more accessible and earthly. Reaching union with his spirit
became another characteristic of Sufism. Malik states that “some reformist
movements even humanized the Prophet while others stuck to his inviolability,
all adhering to some aims: mobilising against unjust rulers, offering alterna-
tive remedies in the line with prophetic ethics.”86 From Radtke and O’Fahey’s
Introduction  11
perspective, the belief in uniting with the spirit of the Prophet meant that imi-
tating the Prophet was a means to achieve this, but it was not a substitute for
union with God.87 Emphasis on such propheto-​centrism among several Sufi
paths across the Muslim world during that period led them to use the name
“Muḥammadan Path,” or Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya.
In the eyes of the reformists, the blind imitation of earlier Muslims, or
taqlīd, was rejected. Taqlīd was seen as restricting a believer’s understanding
by relying on old and out-​dated interpretations, while ijtihād entailed a con-
stantly shifting process of interpreting holy texts which takes context and
particularities of time and place into account. In other words, the aim of
ijtihād was to recover the spirit of the Prophetic age. As Malik states, ijtihād
demonstrated a tendency toward distinction from the age of the Prophet. It
sought to bring about a political and social ideal, making this into a reality
through personal effort.88
Activist engagement in social affairs is one characteristic in the above-​
mentioned list that increased the influence of Sufis on society and helped
them in trying to build an ideal community.89 Voll uses the idea of “socio-​
moral reconstructionism,” or a quest for a fundamental transformation to
counteract the socio-​moral decline, as distinguishing the eighteenth century
and the reversal of more traditional Islamic beliefs.90 O’Fahey and Radtke
call this reform “an outward-​looking reformist orientation.”91 Citing Buehler,
Werbner asserts that neo-​Sufism did away with intoxication and promoting
the passing through stages on the path, returning to the world and living
apparently like “any ordinary pious person” so as to “become extraordin-
arily ordinary.”92 Neo-​Sufism venerated the Prophet’s socio-​political life and
sought to emulate it, thus opposing earlier quietism within Sufism.93
Furthermore, among the Muslim scholars of Delhi, the issue of the role
of the Prophet’s companions and the definition of orthodox Islam raised the
question again about the Prophet’s succession. Strong sectarian hostilities
that had surfaced necessitated reconciliation in the community regarding reli-
gious authority and the ways to attain the Prophetic knowledge. Again, the
debate was under the influence of Ibn al-​Taymiyya. Sufi masters of Delhi had
different approaches in dealing with sectarianism, many with the same goal
of identifying Islam with Sunnism. Some of them like ʿAndalīb had more
mystical attitudes, and some like Shāh Walī Allāh mixed a political manner of
thought with a mystical perspective.94 Shāh Walī Allāh’s works Izālat al-​khafā
ʿan khilāfat al-​khulafā and Qurrat al-​ʿaynayn fī tafdīl al-​shaykhayn impressed
the Sufi circles by rejecting Shīʿism and the status of the four caliphs became
a topic of debate again.95 Qasim Zaman discusses how Shāh Walī Allāh was
concerned about “how the prophetical mission of Muhammad was completed
not by the time of his death but rather at the hands of his successors. The
prophet-​like qualities the Rashidun had possessed had allowed them to give
form and substance to the religion. They were able as well to understand what
God wanted them to do on their own rather than on anyone’s instruction
(az sirr-​i tahqiq na az sirr-​i taqlid).”96 Shāh Walī Allāh paid attention to the
12 Introduction
anti-​Shīʿa attitudes of Sirhindī and translated his Radd al-​rawāfiz before 1731
into Arabic, with addition of some comments and discussions.97 After him,
the Shīʿa/​Sunni polemics were continually discussed by his successors and
ʿAbd al-​ʿAzīz wrote Tuḥfa-​yi ithnā ʿash‘ariyya in 1789–​90.98
The last point to cover, after having considered ʿAndalīb and his
Naqshbandī contemporaries in the Islamic movements of the eighteenth cen-
tury, is their activities and thoughts vis-​à-​vis other active (non-​Naqshbandī)
Sufi orders of Delhi. One recent study is Moin Ahmad Nizami’s Reform
and Renewal in South Asian Islam,99 which studies reform and the Chishtī
Ṣābriyya. This work demonstrates the interactions among Sufi orders during
the gradual deterioration of the Mughal Empire. To understand Sufi networks
in pre-​colonial India, during colonialism and afterwards,100 the influence of
Mujaddidī revivalist masters—​in his words “Walīullāhī scholars”—​must be
considered along with the activities of the Chishtiyya in Awadh, who were
known for coexistence and peaceful attitudes. Similarly, the critical view
of the Chishtiyya leads to a severe criticism of Hindu Bhakti influences on
Indian Sufism. Their emphasis on sharīʿa constructed a basis for the funda-
mentalist Deobandī School in the nineteenth century that highlighted the role
of the ʿālim-​Sufi. With such a background, they used khānaqāh and madrasa
institutions and merged ḥadīth and fiqh into their mystical views.
It is important to note that, although the nature of Islamic reform was not
restricted in Sufism, as Dallal states, Sufi affinities are key factors to separate
the intellectuals of the time from each other. These are in addition to their
regional concerns that differentiate but also align reformists of India to others
like those in North Africa. Thus, the reformist teachings of ʿAndalīb and
those of his Indian contemporaries are somehow different from the reformist
attitudes of al-​Tījānī (d. 1230/​1815), al-​Shawkanī (d. 1250/​1834), Ibn al-​Idrīs
(d. 1253/​1837), al-​Sānūsī (d. 1276/​1859) and in other parts of the Islamic
world.101 What united them all are that they are critics and union seekers
while the Waḥḥābīs, who were the prevailing non-​Sufi figures at that time,
were intolerant and had minimal social and political concerns.102

Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, Publication and Manuscripts


The current book is based on the available lithographed form of Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb that exists in two volumes, 912 and 908 folios, 23 lines per folio and
in black ink. It has velvet binding with golden margins and a golden medal-
lion on both sides of the cover. There are no illuminated folios except for the
first two. Inside is a brief prologue written by Shams (d. unk.), who worked
in the Shāhjahānī printing-​house, and there is a signature and two undated
seals that belong to the last owners. The text is decorated with a headpiece
(sar lawḥ) painted in black which is followed by the bismi’llāh. Each folio is
filled by text and they have uniformed pagination and borders drawn around
the text. Marginal notes and explanations to facilitate a correct reading are
found inscribed frequently throughout the text. The sections of poetry are
Introduction  13
separated from the prose and they are framed by borders. The headings above
the poems include poetic forms such as rubāʿī, or only the title of a given naẓm
(“poem”), bayt (“verse”) or miṣrāʿ (“line of a verse”). The most identifiable
characteristic of this version is its impressive calligraphy and nastaʿlīq script.
After a colophon, providing information about the place of publishing,
is an eloquent epilogue on the last five folios which was written by Madrāsī.
The epilogue gives the date of completion of the lithographed form as 1310/​
1893, at the honor of Nawwāb Shāh Jahān Begum (d. 1318/​1901).103 Shāh
Jahān Begum, in addition to being a mystic as well as an advocate and patron
of poets and authors, was one of four female Muslim rulers of Bhopal. She
had invested heavily in publishing copies of the Qurʾān and other books on
ḥadīth, lexicons, natural sciences and so forth.104 She ordered the publication
of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb under the supervision of Ḥāfiẓ Karāmat Allāh (d. unk.),
who was the head of the Shāhjahānī printing house. The publication of this
voluminous work seems to have taken two years to complete, given that the
prologue sets the date of publication as 1308/​1890 while the epilogue states
1310/​1892. Based on the number of manuscripts which are available even up
to today, the Maṭbaʿa-​yi Shāhjahānī was an important production center
which produced lithographed forms of manuscripts. The reliability of the
lithographed text could be challenged since ʿAndalīb died in 1172/​1759 and
his original manuscript was destroyed in 1273/​1857,105 thus the lithographed
form was produced about 139 years after ʿAndalīb’s death and 157 years after
the original composition of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. Although the present volume
does not deal with the edition of the work, it discloses its contents and
translates some parts thereof.
One of the surviving manuscripts of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb (no. 966/​61, 967/​62)
is available in the ʿAbd al-​Salām collection at the Library of Mawlānā Āzād
at Aligarh Muslim University.106 This manuscript consists of two volumes of
495 and 463 folios, written in Indian nastaʿlīq script in black and red ink with
25 lines per folio. Man sukh rāmur, whose name is mentioned in the colo-
phon, as the copyist, perhaps more precisely the scribe, sometimes ignored
the order of pages and wrote the text obliquely. The text begins with a table
of contents in 13 folios. The margins were used to correct mistakes and pro-
vide further explanation. At the end of each page, catchwords are noted. The
quality and condition of the manuscript also presents some challenges, as it
is incomplete and many folios have been damaged by water, humidity, and
insects.
There are three manuscripts, each consisting of two volumes, in the Khuda
Bakhsh Oriental Public Library of Patna. The first manuscript (no. HL 3721
and no. HL 3721A) has 377 and 371 folios of paper measuring 30 x 19 cm
with 27 lines per folio and was written in Indian nastaʿlīq script. The folios
are partly or entirely dismembered and abraded, but the surviving folios have
been restored and rebound together. Volume one begins from the middle of
list of contents. The last folios of volume two have been damaged and the date
of the manuscript cannot be estimated due to the absence of the colophon.107
14 Introduction

The first folio of the lithographed form of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb,


Figure 0.1 
Bhopal: Maṭbaʿa-​yi Shāhjahānī, 1308/​1890–​1310/​1892, by kind permis-
sion of the National Library and Archives of Iran.
newgenrtpdf
Introduction  15
Figure 0.2 The first folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no. ACC1440, by kind permission of the
Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library of Patna.
16 Introduction

Figure 0.3 The last folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no. ACC1441, by kind
permission of the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library of Patna.
Introduction  17

Figure 0.4 The first folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no. HL 3721, by kind
permission of the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library of Patna.
18 Introduction

Figure 0.5 The last folio of manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no. HL 3721A, by kind
permission of the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library of Patna.
newgenrtpdf
Introduction  19
Figure 0.6 The first folio of the manuscript of Khulāṣa-​yi Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, no. PC II 48, 1106, by kind per-
mission of the Punjab University Library of Lahore.
20 Introduction
Another available manuscript in the Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library is
in two volumes (no. ACC1440 and no. ACC1441). They have been transcribed
in black and red ink in Indian nastaʿlīq. The folios have been repaired several
times, but due to the extensive damage, many of them are incomplete. At the
beginning of volume one, there is information written by Mīr Alam (d. ca.
1222/​1807), ʿAndalīb’s grandson, regarding a visit to Shāhjahānābād by Miyān
ʿUmr Dirāz, who performed pilgrimage to Sufi shrines and joined Mīr Alam
in 18.11.1217/​12.03.1803. Five seals on the first sheet refer to the owners of the
manuscript. Volume one begins with “Huwa al-​Nāṣir” on the top of the table
of contents that consists of numbers of folios. The margins have been used for
the correction of mistakes. The verses are separated from prose by the titles
in red ink.108 It can be argued that this copy is one of the copies of the work
that was transcribed closer in time to ʿAndalīb, 44 years after his death and
the contents are more reliable under the supervision of Mīr Alam. The third
manuscript (no. HL 744A and no. HL 744 B) has 808 folios in two volumes
with 25 lines per folio. It begins with “Huwa al-​Nāṣir” on the top of the table
of contents that was written in Indian nastaʿlīq script and in black and red ink.
The folios have been restored but many of them are partly or entirely damaged.
There is also a manuscript that includes a summary of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb
(no. PC II 48, 1106) written by ʿAbd al-​Ḥaqq Shahīd Fātiḥpūrī under the
title, Khulāṣa-​yi Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb.109 This manuscript is available at the Punjab
University Library in Lahore. It has 132 folios, 17 lines per folio, and is also
written in Indian nastaʿlīq script in black and red ink. Catchwords are included
at the bottom of each folio and aid in the arrangement of the folios and help
the reader follow the contents. This work has been mistakenly considered as
the actual text of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb in some tadhkiras and works on the history
of Urdu literature.110

Organization of the Book


The present volume consists of three chapters which follow the afore-
said discussions. As already elucidated, the aim of this book is to analyze
ʿAndalīb’s thought, as a former master of the Mujaddidiyya and founder of
the Muḥammadan Path. It will lay the foundation for analysis in later sections
so as to place the text within its context and assesses the role of the author
in the political, religious, and moral atmosphere of his time and place. Thus,
to determine his contribution in promoting Islam in India, the context of
the Indian environment in the first half of the eighteenth century will be
considered.
To explain what motivated ʿAndalīb to establish the Muḥammadan Path,
the first chapter, entitled “Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works,”
is divided into two sections. The first section, “ʿAndalīb’s Family and
Background,” focuses on his social situation as a Muslim thinker from the pol-
itical position of his family along with their role in the ṭarīqa and in religious
issues. It familiarizes the reader with his ancestors and family background,
Introduction  21
his position in the court as well as his connection to Sufism, particularly to
the Naqshbandiyya Mujadiddiyya. It also considers ʿAndalīb’s reputation
among his contemporaries, first as a disciple and then as a master on the
Sufi path. After such background, certain miraculous aspects of his legacy as
found in some posthumous legendary accounts are considered to shed light
on his later reception, reputation, and influence.
The second section, “ʿAndalīb as the Author of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb,” begins
by introducing his works and then leads into a discussion of the contents of
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. The section argues that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is an appropriate
basis for understanding ʿAndalīb’s mystical teachings. It studies the purpose
and literary style of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and turns its attention toward its out-
standing features, method of writing, the coherency of the text, literary style
and its sources. Overall, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb has various themes and its contents
include different topics which were popularly debated in circles related to
mysticism, theology, and jurisprudence, as well as non-​religious subjects.
The work is structured based on ironic, magical, adventurous, amorous, and
epic narratives that include a main plot and many sub-​plots. Ultimately, the
section clarifies why ʿAndalīb wrote his work in Persian during the same time
that Urdu literature was developing. Since there is insufficient evidence about
the reception of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb among the author’s contemporaries and
in the canon of Sufi literature, this study has relied upon ʿAndalīb’s own
expectations about how Muslims would receive his work along with how he
himself perceived it, what later copyists mentioned in lithographed forms of
it and also what the value of the work was in the eyes of his successors and
family members as well as in modern academia. This section closes the debate
by studying Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, which addresses the common people and
represents the author’s religious and mystical concerns.
The second chapter, “Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical
World,” deals with the content of the text before discussing its ideological
viewpoint in two sections as a literary symbolic work. The section, “Synopsis
of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb,” is a short summarization of the voluminous plot,
which is about 1,800 pages, from beginning to end with a focus on identi-
fying the relationships between the protagonist, the nightingale, and other
supporting characters. The major components of the plot points are identi-
fied and outlined to help the reader have access to an overview of the contents
of this work. In order to allow a comprehensive understanding of the work,
the current text does not exclude the subplots, since they directly affect the
central plot.
After having identified the main characters of the story and the apparent sur-
face details within the narrative of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, the next section entitled,
“The Nightingale’s Lament: The Meaning Behind the Narrative,” analyzes
the meanings behind the various personalities and enhances the reader’s com-
prehension by explaining some keywords and concepts relevant to ʿAndalīb’s
mystical worldview. This is important since his purpose in composing the
work and relating the narrative goes beyond simply telling a love story and
22 Introduction
the text is not separated from historical events, its imaginary world being
influenced by social and religious circumstances. The section is an attempt to
answer the question of what popular imagery the author adopts, and how he
transforms, enlarges, and revitalizes these images. Although indebted to trad-
ition, there is indeed something special or unique in his approach. The aim of
this discussion is to find the author’s intention in employing metaphors as well
as the reason why he chose the nightingale as his protagonist.
The third chapter, “Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya” looks at Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb as an articulation of ʿAndalīb’s
Sufism. In sum, the primary objective of this chapter is to clarify and sys-
tematize all of the concepts which ʿAndalīb employs within the framework
of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya. The discussion begins with the first section
entitled “Origin and Principles of the Khāliṣ Muhammadiyya.” It presents
the meaning of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya as the straight path (al-​ṣirāṭ al-​
mustaqīm). It scrutinizes ʿAndalīb’s aims to guide Muslims through a revivalist
approach along with faith in the state of the nāṣir (“helper”), that is the
Khāliṣ Muḥammadī. Preserving Islam from heresy and distortion, this path
is a sharīʿa-​oriented path toward the true and pristine Islam that represents a
strict inclination toward returning to the ways of the earliest Muslims (salaf)
or ahl al-​sunna waʾl-​jamāʿa, since their sincere faith was primordial and their
practices were considered to be exactly in accordance with the path of the
Prophet Muḥammad. ʿAndalīb draws a sharp distinction between his own
concept of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī and that of all others, despite the fact that
his tendency toward the reconciliation of Islamic groups leads him to a unique
form of tolerance. He raises the flag of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī and invites
all Muslims from disparate Islamic sects with various beliefs to gather under
the same banner. The dynamism and ambiguity of figurative language and
metaphors in the story of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb provides ʿAndalīb with an oppor-
tunity to restore the importance of the Prophet in the Islamic worldview and
to use it for solving all of the theological, societal, and political difficulties that
Muslims were beset with during that period of time. He stresses the central
role of the Prophet Muḥammad and exhorts the imitation of him through
observing the prescriptions of the ḥadīths and sunna in every aspect of life. His
solution for what he saw as the prevailing degeneration of morality is to restore
Muḥammadan morality (khulq-​i Muḥammadī), and also “khulq-​i Ḥasan.”
ʿAndalīb encourages his followers to obtain all of the Prophet’s virtues as he
is the perfect ethical character. The second section, “Mystical Prophetology in
the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya” seeks to answer the question: What is the role of
the Prophet Muḥammad in ʿAndalīb’s worldview? It evaluates the use of the
symbolic function of the Prophet and explains how the Prophet Muḥammad
helps his followers during difficult times. It studies the theory of with-​ness
(maʿiyya) and sameness (ʿayniyya) regarding the relationship with the Prophet.
In the third section, “Reorientation of Sufism: The Critical View of the
Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya” which draws attention to his critical points of view
and the bitterness of the reality which ʿAndalīb saw and wanted to replace
Introduction  23
with an ideal solution. This section deals with significant elements of Islamic
reconstruction in ʿAndalīb’s Sufism, or in other words, his reorientation of
Sufism. The chapter is concerned with his mystical revival of the faith and
examines the critical opinions he elaborates in his Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya. It
answers the question of how his significant theories were meant to aid in the
reconstruction of Islam in Delhi by aiming to improve the situation of the
Muslims there. It studies the relation of this work to matters of society and
politics. It answers how the sharīʿa-​based perception of the Muḥammadan
Path towards Sufism works as a solution for the eighteenth-​century Muslim
community in Delhi. ʿAndalīb’s criticism of Sufism comprises a discussion
of ʿAndalīb’s attempts to fill the gap between spiritual and material life,
establishing a balance between entirely renouncing the world and pursuing
only wealth. Additionally, his efforts to make the ṭarīqa conform to sharīʿa
along with the place of his Sufism among other ṭuruq will also be discussed
to show the validity of the Muḥammadan Path among other mystical paths.
It will explain that as a critique of the Sufis of their time, the followers of
the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya actually serve as the ideal Sufis. The subject is
further narrowed down and this chapter closes with a fourth section “Khāliṣ
Muḥammadīs: Inhabitants of Sacred India,” this symbolic representation
of the Prophet will be connected to the sacredness of India as an Islamic
land in order to strengthen the presence of the community there. The discus-
sion in this section is combined with an examination of the helpful role of
the Prophet and ʿAndalīb’s perception of the Muslim community within an
important historical period, during the chaos of the eighteenth century, and
in a specific geographical part of the Islamic world.

Notes
1 Muḥammad Ghawth (d. 922/​ 1517) established the Qādiriyya order in India.
J. Spencer Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971),
p. 44. Many members of the ruling family were pupils of Qādirī masters such as
Prince Dārā Shukūh (d. 1069/​1659), who was a devotee of Miyān Mīr (d. 1045/​
1635). Juan Eduardo Campo, Encyclopedia of World Religions, Encyclopedia of
Islam, s.v. “Qadiri Sufi Order” (New York: Infobase Publishing, 2009). Regarding
the founder of the Qādiriyya, ʿAbd al-​Qādir Jīlānī, it should be noted that he did
not actually establish the order as it was his followers that attributed the Qādirī
order to him. He was a Ḥanbalī orator whose family line traced back to al-​Ḥasan
b. ʿAlī (d. 50/​670). He lived in Baghdad and was originally from Jīlān, an area in
the north of Iran. After becoming a famous Sufi master, he was called the reviver
of religion (muḥyī al-​dīn), the greatest sustenance (ghawth-​i aʿẓam) and the helping
master (pīr-​i dastgīr). The activity of the Qādirī order during the time of Mughal
disintegration in the subcontinent was considerable. Indian scholars turn special
attention to ʿAbd al-​Qādir Jīlānī’s thought and works and a translation of Bahīat
al-​asrār, a work on the Manāqib-​i ghawth-​i aʿẓam by Badr al-​Dīn Sirhindī, Ḥabīb
Allāh Akbarābādī (d. 1159/​1747), and ʿAbd al-Ḥaqq Dihlawī (d. 1052/​1642) can be
mentioned to show his popularity. “ʿAbd-​Al-​Qader Jilani,” EIr.
24 Introduction
2 Muzaffar Alam, The Language of Political Islam: India, 1200–​1800 (London: Hurst
& Company, 2004), p. 166; see Aziz Ahmad, An Intellectual History of Islam in
India (Edinburgh: Islamic Surveys, 1969), p. 6.
3 Jamal Malik, Islam in South Asia: A Short History (Leiden and Boston, MA: Brill,
2008), p. 38.
4 Alam, The Language of Political Islam, p. 83.
5 Waḥdat al-​wujūd can be translated into English as unity of being; ontological
oneness of all things. See Sayyid Maḥmūd Mūsawī (ed.), Farhang-​i iṣṭilāḥāt-​i ʿirfān-​
i Islāmī (Tehran: Daftar-​i Pazhūhish wa Nashr-​i Suhrawardī, 1382 Sh./​2003).
6 William C. Chittick, “Wahdat al-​Wujud in India,” Ishraq: Islamic Philosophy
Yearbook 3 (2012): p.32.
7 See Gregory A Lipton, “Muḥibb Allāh Ilāhābādī’s Taswiya Contextualized,” in
Muslim Cultures in the Indo-​Iranian World during the Early-​Modern and Modern
Periods, ed. Denis Hermann and Fabrizio Speziale (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag,
2010), pp. 475–​497.
8 “Čis̲h̲tiyya,” EI2.
9 See Annemarie Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam (Chapel Hill, NC: The
University of North Carolina Press, 1975), pp. 357–​358.
10 Rooted in early Sufi tradition, Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s development of the notion the Light
of Muḥammad can be summarized as follow according to Khalil Andan. The Light
of Muḥammad: “emerged out of the Everlasting Lights (al-​anwār al-​ṣamadīya)
and the Unity Presence (al-​ḥaḍra al-​aḥadīya)”; the Muḥammadan Reality “arises
in the [Divine] Unity (al-​qāʾima bi-​l-​aḥadīya)”; the Muḥammadan Reality is “the
Veil of [God’s] Self-​Manifestation (ḥijāb tajallī-​hi) and the ashioning of His Self-​
Adornment (ṣiyāghat taḥallī-​hi).” The Muḥammadan Reality is the presence of
God’s Names and Attributes, as God said to him: “You are My Attributes and
My Names among them.” Finally, in a most explicit manner, Ibn al-​ʿArabī says
that “Muḥammad, (May God bless and keep Him!) is a Copy of a Real One/​
Reality (nuskhatu Ḥaqq).” Khalil Andani, “Metaphysics of Muhammad: The Nur
Muhammad from Imam Ja‘far al-​Sadiq (d. 148/​765) to Nasir al-​Din al-​Tusi (d.
672/​1274),” Journal of Sufi Studies 8 (2019): p. 153.
11 Ibid., p.155.
12 “Čishtiyya,” EI2.
13 Waḥdat al-​shuhūd can be translated into English as unity of witnessing; experien-
tial unity with God. See Mūsawī, Farhang-​i iṣṭilāḥāt.
14 Although Sirhindī did not claim to be the mujaddid, his disciples called him
mujaddid-​i alf-​i thānī. The theory of tajdīd involves an idea about the advent of
the mujaddid (“renewer”) at the beginning of the new millennium of Islam, who
spiritually revitalized the Muslim community as a perfect man who has qual-
ities of the Prophet. “Aḥmad Serhendi (2),” EIr. For a debate about the role of
the mujaddid, see Yohanan Friedmann, Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī: An Outline of
His Thought and a Study of his Image in the Eyes of Posterity (Montreal and
London: McGill-​Queens University Press, 1971), pp. 13–​21; Johann G. J. ter
Haar, Follower and Heir of the Prophet: Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī (1564-​1624) as
Mystic (Leiden: Oosters Instituut, 1992), pp. 145–​153, cited in “Aḥmad Serhendi
(2),” EIr.
15 My usage of the term sharīʿa-​minded in this text is adopted from Hodgson’s
terminology. See Edmund Burke, “Islamic History as World History: Marshall
Introduction  25
Hodgson, ‘The Venture of Islam,’ ” International Journal of Middle East Studies
10, no. 2 (1979): p. 254.
16 As revivalist intellectuals, the names of ʿAlāʾ al-​Dawla al-​Simnānī (d. 736/​1336),
Muḥammad Gīsū-​Dirāz (d. 825/​1422) and Shaykh ʿAbd al-​Ḥaqq Muḥaddith
Dehlawī (d. 1052/​1642) can be mentioned. Athar Abbas Rizvi, Muslim Revivalist
Movements in Northern India (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publisher Pvt.
Ltd., 1995), pp. 255, 146.
17 Kenneth Lizzio, “The Naqshbandi/​Saifiyya Battle for Islamic tradition,” The
Muslim World, no. 96 (1) (2006): p. 40. Pnina Werbner, “Reform Sufism in South
Asia,” in Islamic Reform in South Asia, ed. Filippo Osella (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2013), p. 56. Arthur Buehler, the author of Sufi Heirs of the
Prophet, explains that Sirhindī’s concept of sharīʿa is a multivalent and inclusive
term encompassing outward acts of worship, faith, and the Sufi path. Quoted in
Fazlur Rahman, Revival and Reform in Islam: A Study of Islamic Fundamentalism
(Oxford: OneWorld, 2000), p. 170. From Friedmann’s point of view, “Sirhindi was
primarily a Sufi interested first and foremost in questions of mysticism,” since the
Sufi ḥaqīqa cannot be anything but the ḥaqiqa of the sharīʿa. Friedmann, intro-
duction to Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, p. xiv.
18 Athar Abbas Rizvi, History of Sufism in India (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal
Publishers, 1983), vol. 2, p. 209. The Kubrawiyya was a main Sufi order that
emerged in central Asia after Najm al-​Dīn Kubrā (d. 618/​1221) in the thirteenth
century. See Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam, pp. 55–​57. On the Kubrawiyya,
see also the long, two-​part entry by Hamid Algar, “Kubrawiyya,” EIr, and Devin
DeWeese, “The Eclipse of the Kubravīyah in Central Asia,” Iranian Studies 21,
no. 1/​2 (1988): pp. 45–​83. On Simnānī’s way of thought, see Jamal J. Elias, Throne
Carrier of God: The Life and Thought of ‘Ala’ ad-​dawla as-​Simnani (Albany,
NY: SUNY Press, 1995).
19 Regarding the concept of tanzīh, Trimingham writes: “The doctrine of ‘exemp-
tion’ (a), according to which God is, by virtue of His essence, in no way at all like
the creatures He has created […]; (b) in Sufi usage corresponds to a via remotionis,
a purging of one’s being of all images and preconceived ideas of God, especially
associated with the negative lā ilāha of the taḥlīl formula.” Trimingham, The Sufi
Orders in Islam, p. 312.
20 For a discussion about the concept of tawḥīd in Sirhindī’s point of view, see
Burhan Ahmad Faruqi, The Mujaddid’s Conception of Tawhid (Delhi: Gyan
Books Pvt. Ltd., 1940). Although Ibn al-​ʿArabī and his followers were considered
to be adherents of tashbīh, their waḥdat al-​wujūdī perspective wanted to represent
a harmony between tanzīh and tashbīh, according to Ibn al-​ʿArabī in his chapter
on Noah in the Fuṣūṣ al-​ḥikam. In his eyes, some prophets’ prophecies are tanzīhī
and some others are tashbīhī, although all benefit from both points of view, but in
different degrees. To them, only the Prophet Muḥammad represents a comprehen-
sive faith that joined tanzīh and tashbīh together successfully. Thus, he chose Noah
for this discussion as a prophet whose prophecy tended toward tanzīh, while the
previous prophet was Seth whose prophecy was tashbīhī. See Hamed Naji, “Some
Contemplation on Noah Interpretations from the View of Ibn ʿArabi,” Guwhar
Gūyā, no.26 (1393/​2014): pp. 129–​144.
21 Friedmann, Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, p. 60.
22 “Ebn al-​ʿArabī, Moḥyī al-​Dīn Abū ʿAbd-​Allāh Moḥammad Ṭāʾī Ḥātemī,” EIr.
26 Introduction
23 See John Renard, The A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Being,” (Lanham, Toronto, Plymouth,
UK: The Scarecrow Press, 2009).
24 Chittick, “Waḥdat al-​Wujūd in India,” p. 39.
25 Sayyid Muḥammad Ḥusaynī Gīsū-​Darāz, Sharḥ-​ ḥaqāyiq (Sharḥ-​i
i zubdat al-​
tamhīdāt), ed. Sayyid ʿAṭā Ḥusayn Ṣāḥib (Hydrabad: 1364/​1944).
26 Gregory A Lipton, “Muḥibb Allāh Ilāhābādī: South Asian Heir to Ibn ʿArabī,”
Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society (2009): p. 95.
27 F.A. Qadri, “Indian Response to the Pantheistic Doctrine of Ibn Al-​ʿArabi,”
Proceedings of the Indian History Congress, vol. 65 (2004): pp. 335–​344.
28 Strict observation of sharīʿa led to criticism toward popular Sufis and viewing
their beliefs and practices as innovations. Werbner, “Reform Sufism in South
Asia,” p. 55. This critical approach was considered and adopted equally by
fundamentalists. See Itzchak Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya: Orthodoxy and
Activism in a Worldwide Sufi Tradition (London and New York: Routledge,
2007), p. 8.
29 Arthur Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet: The Indian Naqshbandiyya and the Rise
of the Mediating Sufi Shaykh (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press,
1998), pp. 71–​72.
30 Thomas Dahnhardt, Change and Continuity in Indian Sufism: A Naqshbandi-​
Mujaddidi Branch in the Hindu Environment (New Delhi: D.K. Print World, 2002).
For a survey of the range of Naqshbandī branches presently active on the global
stage, see Michael E. Asbury, “Seeing with the Heart: The Mysticism of an Islamic
Sufi Lineage from India in the West” (PhD diss., University of Erfurt, 2020),
pp. 233–​308.
31 Aziz Ahmad, An Intellectual History, p. 9.
32 On Shāh Walī Allāh’s Hujjat Allāh al-​bāligha, see Walī Allāh b. ʿAbd al-​Raḥīm
al-​Dihlawī, The Conclusive Argument from God: Shāh Walī Allāh of Delhi’s Ḥujjat
Allāh Al-​Bāligha, trans. Hermansen, Marcia K. (Leiden: Brill, 1995).
33 Fozail Ahmad Qadri, “Muslim-​ Mystic Trends in India during the Eighteenth
Century” (PhD diss., Aligarh Muslim University, 1987), p. 9.
34 Shāh Walī Allāh’s father initiated him into the Naqshbandī order. He taught at
the Madrasa Raḥīmiyya before his travel for pilgrimage (ḥajj). In the Hijaz, as he
narrated in his Arabic work entitled Fuyūḍ al-​Ḥaramayn, he had a vision in which
the Prophet appointed him as the “preserver of time” (qāʾim al-​zamān). In India,
he began his task of leading the Muslim community through a revival of sharīʿa
and morality carried out through writings and training. Rizvi says the preserver
of time was “a spokesman for the pious on the Day of Judgement.” Rizvi, History
of Sufism, vol. 2, p. 253.
35 His house was gifted to him by Muḥammad Shāh who sought to have his spir-
itual support. Athar Abbas Rizvi, Shāh Walī-​Allāh and His Times: A Study of
Eighteenth Century Islam, Politics and Society in India (Canberra: Maʿrifat
Publishing House, 1980), p. 220.
36 Qadri, “Indian Response to the Pantheistic Doctrine of Ibn Al-​ʿArabi,” p. 340.
37 Annemarie Schimmel, And Muhammad is His Messenger: The Veneration of the
Prophet in Islamic Piety (Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina
Press, 1985), p. 218.
38 Many scholars such as Rizvi believe that he was murdered after criticizing the
commemoration of the Battle of Karbala by the Shiʿa. Rizvi, History of Sufism,
Introduction  27
vol. 2, p. 247, see Raḥmān ʿAlī Muḥammad ʿAbd al-​Shakūr, Tadhkira-​yi ʿulamaʾ-​i
Hind (Lucknow: Newal Kishore, 1914), vol. 1, p. 227.
39 Maẓhar’s khānaqāh was an active place among religious institutions of the time.
His disciples are said to have numbered more than five hundred and traveled from
such distant lands as Syria, Iraq, Egypt, China and Ethiopia. Qadri, “Muslim-​
Mystic Trends,” p. 40.
40 Sher Ali Tareen, “Translating the ‘Other’: Early-​Modern Muslim Understandings
of Hinduism,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 27, 3 (2017): 440.
41 Regarding Mīrzā Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān’s perspective about the Vedas and Hinduism,
see Malik, Islam in South Asia, p. 202.
42 Tareen, “Translating the ‘Other,’ ” pp. 444–​445, and see p. 454.
43 Qadri, Muslim-​Mystic Trends, pp. 22–​23. Concerning Maẓhar’s life and teachings,
see Maqāmāt-​i maẓharī, a narrative account that gives information about his life
and his influences on the atmosphere that surrounded him.
44 See Seema Alavi, introduction to The Eighteenth Century in India, ed. Seema
Alavi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 2–​4. The Aligarh historians,
for instance among them Irfan Habib bitterly viewed the eighteenth century as “a
period of reckless repines, anarchy and foreign conquest.” M. Athar Ali, “Recent
Theories of Eighteenth-​ Century India,” in The Eighteenth Century in Indian
History Evolution or Revolution, ed. P.J. Marshall (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2003), p. 90.
45 John Obert Voll, Islam: Continuity and Change in the Modern World
(New York: Syracuse University Press, 1994), p. 24.
46 Malik, introduction to Islam in South Asia, p. 4.
47 Andrea Hintze, The Mughal Empire and Its Decline: An Interpretation of the
Sources of Social Power (Aldershot, Brookfield, Singapore, Sydney: Ashgate
Publishing Company, 1997), p. 17.
48 Jamal Malik, “Muslim Culture and Reform in the 18th Century South Asia,”
Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 13 (2003): p. 229.
49 Burton Stein, “Eighteenth-​ Century India: Another View,” in The Eighteenth
Century in Indian History Evolution or Revolution, ed. P. J. Marshall
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 66; P. J. Marshall, “Economic and
Political Expansion: The Case of Awadh,” in The Eighteenth Century in India,
ed. Seema Alavi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), p. 131. See Alavi, intro-
duction to The Eighteenth Century in India, pp. 1, 38. Revisionists believe that
although the growing power of the British East India Company affected political
and economic spheres, the eighteenth century was a flourishing time indeed. These
scholars include the likes of C.A. Bayly, Rajat Dutta, Frank Perlin, and Burton
Stein. Christopher Bayly was one of the Cambridge historians who believed that
the eighteenth century was a period of continuity, the rise of cooperation and
local prosperity in spite of political and agricultural decline. M. Athar Ali, as
another scholar who upholds the “continuity period,” believes that the growing
power of Britain might have initially caused damage to some local economies but
later benefited with many of them. M. Athar Ali, “Recent Theories,” p. 91.
50 Ahmad S. Dallal, Islam without Europe Traditions of Reform in Eighteenth-​
Century Islamic Thought (Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina
Press, 2018), p. 21.
51 Hintze, introduction to The Mughal Empire and Its Decline, p. 1.
28 Introduction
52 Athar Ali, Mughal India: Studies in Polity, Ideas, Society, and Culture
(Oxford: Oxford University Press 2006), pp. 94, 338. Seema Alavi, introduction to
The Eighteenth Century, p. 3.
53 Athar Ali, Mughal India, p. 350.
54 Schimmel believes that the eighteenth century was a significant time of develop-
ment in Sufism and poetry. Annemarie Schimmel, foreword to Pain and Grace: A
Study of Two Mystical Writers of Eighteenth-​Century Muslim India (Leiden: Brill,
1976), p. xi.
55 Athar Ali, Mughal India, p. 342.
56 Voll, Islam, p. 27; Nehemiah Levtzion and John O. Voll (ed.), Eighteenth Century
Renewal and Reform in Islam (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1987), p. 13.
For an excellent debate on applying the words in Arabic and English, see Asʿad
Abu Khalil and Mahmoud Haddad’s definition of “Revival and Renewal.”
“The Arabic terms revival (iḥyāʾ) and renewal (tajdīd) are often used concur-
rently, but renewal is more akin to reform (iṣlāḥ) than revival, which is more
concerned with re-​awakening of certain Islamic practices or ideas. Both terms
are also used in the context of modern Islamic movements, but they also have
important pre modern roots. Pre-​modern renewal was usually associated with
a specifically designated purifier who, according to the ḥadīths, “Prophetic
traditions,” would come at the “head of each century” to renew the faith and
practice of Muslims. Many puritanical reformers were, as a result, identified by
their followers as the designated renewer (Mujaddid) of the era. Revival had a
stronger sense of a strengthening of the spiritual dimensions of faith and practice,
as seen in the writings of Abū Ḥāmid al-​Ghazālī (d. 1111).” Asʿad Abu Khalil and
Mahmoud Haddad, The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Islamic World, s.v. “Revival
and Renewal,” Oxford Islamic Studies Online, www.oxfor​disl​amic​stud​ies.com/​arti​
cle/​opr/​t236/​e0682 (accessed July 11, 2014).
57 Levtzion and Voll assert that the significance of studying the eighteenth century is
two-​fold, first because it came before the nineteenth century and was “a prelude to
the reformism and turmoil of the modern era” and second, because it came after
“the era of Islamic medieval glory and thus served as its epilogue.” Levtzion and
Voll, Eighteenth Century Renewal, pp. 16, 20. A variety of research supports this
idea. See Schimmel, foreword to Pain and Grace, p. xi; John L. Esposito, Islam: the
Straight Path (New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 115.
58 Albrecht Hofheinz, “Illumination and Enlightenment Revisited, or: Pietism and
the Root of Islamic Modernity,” p. 3, http://​folk.uio.no/​albr​ech/​Hofh​einz​_​Ill​
umEn​ligh​tenm​ent.pdf (accessed 9 November, 2014).
59 Rudolf Peters, “Reinhard Schulze’s Quest for an Islamic Enlightenment,” Die
Welt Islam, no. 1/​4 (1990): p. 161.
60 R.S. O’Fahey and Bernard Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” Der Islam, 70,
no.1 (1993): pp. 54–​55.
61 Bernd Radtke, “Ijtihad and Neo-​Sufism,” Asiatische Studien, 48 (1994): p. 913.
O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” pp. 54–​55.
62 Levtzion and Voll, introduction to Eighteenth Century Renewal, p. 4.
63 The Khalwatiyya followed Aḥmad b. Idrīs and it was an active Sufi brotherhood
in Africa.
64 Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya, p. 8.
65 John Obert Voll, “Neo-​Sufism: Reconsidered Again,” Canadian Journal of African
Studies/​Revue Canadienne des Études Africaines 42, no. 2/​3 (2008): pp. 328–​329. By
speaking in vernacular languages, reformists made a close connection with people
Introduction  29
and they had a great chance to criticize different aspects of society such as the
royal family and religious men.
66 O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” p. 87.
67 Ibid., p. 61.
68 Dallal, Islam without Europe, p. 135.
69 Ibid., p. 140
70 Ibid., pp. 96–​97.
71 Khaled El-​ Rouayheb, introduction on Islamic Intellectual History in the
Seventeenth Century Scholarly Currents in the Ottoman Empire and the Maghreb
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), p. 2.
72 El-​Rouayheb, p. 8. He answers to the claims that the modern Islam was under
influence of the western modernity. In doing so, Leezenberg in his book review
highlights that El-​Rouayheb believes that the concentration must turn toward
rational sciences, logic and dialectics among Muslim scholars. His analysis gives
importance to textual studies and he pays attention to the importance of written
knowledge rather than “the personalized, oral-​aural relation between teacher
and pupil” in that age. See Michiel Leezenberg, “Islamic Intellectual History in
the Seventeenth Century: Scholarly Currents in the Ottoman Empire and the
Maghreb, by Khaled El-​Rouayheb. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2015. Pp. 399. US$99.99 (cloth)” History of Humanities 1, no.1 (2016): p.191.
One of the valuable discussions regarding “neo-​Sufism” can be found in Valerie
Hoffmann, “Annihilation in the Messenger of God: The Development of a Sufi
Practice,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 31, no. 3 (1999): 351–​369.
73 O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” p. 57.
74 See Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Modern Islam in India: A Social Analysis
(London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1946), 305; SherAli Tareen, “Normativity, Heresy,
and the Politics of Authenticity in South Asian Islam,” The Muslim World, 99
(2009): 521–​552; Filippo Osella and Coroline Osella (ed.), introduction to Islamic
Reform in South Asia (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. xii.
75 See the debate in Shahab Ahmed, What Is Islam? (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2015), pp. 48–​62. Such binary roots in Muslims attempts to
distinguish unbeliever (zindīq and kāfir) from Muslims. As Waardenburg asserts,
“In eighth-​century Arabic the word zindiq also had the double meaning of
an unbeliever in a general sense and of a Manichean, with a negative conno-
tation. As soon as zindiq becomes a derogatory term, its application becomes
more pervasive and extends to anyone suspected of heretical ideas.” See Jacques
Waardenburg, “The Medival Period 650–​1500,” in Muslim perceptions of other
religions: a historical survey, ed. Jacques Waardenburg (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1999), p. 38. Regarding the issue in India, the term is used to
create a strict distinction between Hindus and the Muslims and to classify the
moderate Islamic attitudes that coexisted with non-​Islamic tendencies as het-
erodox. Ashgar Ali Engineer states that in India, “There are theocratic traditions
on the one hand, and Sufi and Bhakti traditions on the other. Besides religious
tensions, there are also conflicts of interests which are occasionally seen as one
of the reasons for sharpening religious conflicts. In that respect, religion is often
used to provide legitimation to this kind of conflict, so that what appears to be a
religious conflict may, in fact, be a cover up for a conflict of interests.” See Ashgar
Ali Engineer, “Muslim Views of Hindus since 1950,” in Muslim perceptions of
other religions: a historical survey, ed. Jacques Waardenburg (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1999), p. 263.
30 Introduction
76 Junayd al-​Baghdādī was a key figure in the history of Sufism and many orders trace
back their spiritual connection to the Prophet through him. He was a strict advo-
cate of sobriety on the path, an idea which places him in contrast to Ḥallāj (d. 309/​
922), who is often said to have been executed as a heretic for his ecstatic utterances.
John Renard, The A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Junayd, Abūʾl-​Qāsim Muḥammad.”
77 Alam, The Language of Political Islam, p. 152. The Sufi theologian, Abū Ḥāmid
Muḥammad al-​Ghazālī (d. 504/​1111), was a prolific author in the history of
Islamic mysticism. He wrote several influential works: Iḥyā al-​ ʿulūm al-​dīn,
Kimiyā-​yi saʿādat, al-​Munqidh min al-​ḍalāl, and Mishkāt al-​anwār.
78 Aziz Ahmad, An Intellectual History, p. 7.
79 Hardy Peters, The Muslims of British India (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1972), pp. 26–​30. See the topic in Hintze, introduction to The Mughal Empire
and Its Decline, p. xiii; Esposito, Islam, p. 115. Voll, “Neo-​Sufism,” p. 326. O’Fahey
and Radtke explain that the reformists’ point of view was not an absolutely nega-
tive view of Ibn al-​ʿArabī but they were very cautious about using this way of
thinking. O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” p. 71. Levtzion and
Voll refer to the influence of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s thought on some revivalist thinkers
such as Ibrahim al-​Kuranī, ʿAbd al-​Raʿūf al-​Sinkilī, ʿAbd al-​Ghanī al-​Nābulsī,
Muṣṭafā al-​Bakrī, and even Aḥmad Sirhindī. However, they mention that these
figures combined this way of thought with al-​Ghazālī’s ideas to the extent that
they gave priority to the latter. See Levtzion and Voll, introduction to Eighteenth
Century Renewal, pp. 9–​10. With regard to the debate on the rejection of popular
Sufism, see Asʿad Abu Khalil and Mahmoud Haddad, “Revival and Renewal.”
80 Asʿad Abu Khalil and Mahmoud Haddad, “Revival and Renewal.” See Levtzion
and Voll, introduction to Eighteenth Century Renewal, p. 11.
81 Malik, introduction to Islam in South Asia, p. 20.
82 Alexander Knysh, Islam in Historical Perspective (New York and
London: Routledge, 2017), p. 391.
83 Levtzion and Voll, introduction to Eighteenth Century Renewal, p. 13.
84 Homayra Ziad, “Quest of the Nightingale: The Religious Thought of Khawaja Mir
Dard” (PhD diss., Yale University, 2008), p. 16; Voll, Islam, p. 61.
85 Dallal, Islam without Europe, pp. 270–​271.
86 Malik, introduction to Islam in South Asia, pp. 18–​20.
87 Voll, “Neo-​Sufism,” p. 322. See O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo-​ Sufism
Reconsidered,” p. 70.
88 Malik, Islam in South Asia, pp. 200–​201. Also see Asʿad Abu Khalil and Mahmoud
Haddad, “Revival and Renewal.”
89 Levtzion and Voll, introduction to Eighteenth Century Renewal, p. 18. Active Sufi
orders in political and social spheres were Tījāniyya, Khātamiyya, Sānūsiyya and
Naqshbandiyya.
90 Voll, Islam, p. 56.
91 O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” p. 55.
92 Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet, pp. 92–​93, quoted in Werbner, “Reform Sufism
in South Asia,” p. 56.
93 See O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” p. 73.
94 See Muhammad Qasim Zaman, “Political Power, Religious Authority, and the
Caliphate in Eighteenth-​Century Indian Islamic Thought,” Journal of the Royal
Asiatic Society 30, no. 2 (2020): p. 314.
Introduction  31
95 Muhammad U. Faruque, “Sufism Contra Shariah? Shāh Walī Allāh’s Metaphysics
of Waḥdat Al-​Wujūd,” Journal of Sufi Studies 5, no. 1 (2016): p. 35.
96 Zaman, “Political Power, Religious Authority, and the Caliphate,” p. 319.
97 Rizvi, Shah Waliullah and His Times, p.221. See the discussion in Syed Ali
Nadeem Rezavi, “The State, Shiʿas and Shiʿism in Medieval India,” Studies in
People’s History 4, no. 1 (2017): p.43.
98 Syed Ali Nadeem Rezavi, “The State, Shiʿas and Shiʿism in Medieval India,” p. 44.
99 Moin Ahmad Nizami, Reform and Renewal in South Asian Islam: The Chishti-​
Sabris in 18th–​19th Century North India (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017).
100 Brannon D. Ingram, “Book Review: Moin Ahmad Nizami, Reform and Renewal
in South Asian Islam: The Chishti-​Sabris in 18th–​19th Century North India,”
The Indian Economic and Social History Review, vol. 56, no.1 (2019): p. 110.
101 Dallal, Islam without Europe, pp. 21–​55. See, p. 117, and p. 133.
102 Ibid., p.35.
103 Madrāsī, the epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb (Bhopal: Maṭbaʿa-​yi Shāhjahānī, 1308/​1890–​1310/​1892), vol. 2, pp. 906,
908. The name of Nawwāb Shāh Jahān Begum has been mentioned in other
pages. See Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 1, 6.
104 Michael H. Fisher, The Oxford Encyclopedia of Women in World History, s.v.
“Begams of Bhopal” (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008).
105 Nāṣir Nadhīr Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard (Delhi: s.n., 1925), p. 89.
106 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, ʿAbd al-​Salām collection, Library of Mawlānā Āzād,
Aligarh Muslim University, Aligarh, no. 966/​61, 967/​62.
107 Ibid., Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library, Patna, no. 3721
and no. 3721A.
108 Ibid., no. ACC 1440 and no. ACC 1441.
109 Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb, Khulāṣa-​yi Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, summarized by ʿAbd
al-​Ḥaqq Shahīd Fātiḥ-​pūrī, Library of Punjab University, Lahore, no. PC II
48, 1106.
110 Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale, p. 45, fn. 140.

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_​_​_​_​“Indian Response to the Pantheistic Doctrine of Ibn Al-​ʿArabi.” Proceedings of
the Indian History Congress 65 (2004): 335–​344.
Radtke, Bernd. “Ijtihad and Neo-​Sufism,” Asiatische Studien 48 (1994): 909–​921.
Rahman, Fazlur. Revival and Reform in Islam: A Study Of Islamic Fundamentalism.
Oxford: OneWorld, 2000.
Renard, John. The A to Z of Sufism. Lanham, Toronto, Plymouth, UK: The Scarecrow
Press, 2009.
Rezavi, Syed Ali Nadeem. “The State, Shia‘s and Shi‘ism in Medieval India.” Studies
in People’s History 4, 1 (2017): 32–​45.
Rizvi, Athar Abbas. History of Sufism in India. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal
Publishers, 1983.
_​_​_​_​Shāh Walī-​Allāh and His Times: A Study of Eighteenth Century Islam, Politics and
Society in India. Canberra: Maʿrifat Publishing House, 1980.
Schimmel, Annemarie. And Muhammad is His Messenger: The Veneration of the
Prophet in Islamic Piety. Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina
Press, 1985.
_​_​_​_​Mystical Dimensions of Islam. Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina
Press, 1975.
_​_​_​_​Pain and Grace: A Study of Two Mystical Writers of Eighteenth-​Century Muslim
India. Leiden: Brill, 1976.
Smith, Wilfred Cantwell. Modern Islam in India: A Social Analysis. London: Victor
Gollancz Ltd, 1946.
Spear, Percival (ed.). The Oxford History of India. Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1958.
Stein, Burton. “Eighteenth-​Century India: Another View.” In The Eighteenth Century
in Indian History Evolution or Revolution, edited by P.J. Marshall, pp. 62–​89.
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Tareen, Sher Ali. “Translating the ‘Other’: Early-​Modern Muslim Understandings of
Hinduism.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 27, 3 (2017): 435–​460.
_​_​_​_​“Normativity, Heresy, and the Politics of Authenticity in South Asian Islam.”
The Muslim World 99 (2009): 521–​552.
Trimingham, J. Spencer. The Sufi Orders in Islam. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971.
Ter Haar, Johann G.J. Follower and Heir of the Prophet: Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī
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Voll, John Obert. “Neo-​Sufism: Reconsidered Again.” Canadian Journal of African
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_​_​_​_​Islam: Continuity and Change in the Modern World. New York: Syracuse
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Introduction  35
Weismann, Itzchak. The Naqshbandiyya: Orthodoxy and Activism in a Worldwide Sufi
Tradition. London and New York: Routledge, 2007.
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Dard.” PhD diss., Yale University, 2008.
1 Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life
and Works

ʿAndalīb’s Family and Background


Annemarie Schimmel (d. 2003) could be considered the first Western scholar
to provide a brief account of ʿAndalīb’s life. What she presented is based
on rare manuscripts and primary sources and her works, particularly Pain
and Grace (1976), are rich with details such as ʿAndalīb’s ancestors, his birth,
death and the legends that developed posthumously surrounding his per-
sonality. However, ʿAndalīb must also of course be known through his own
works, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, as well as through the works
of his son and major successor, Khwāja Mīr Dard (d. 1199/​1785), such as ʿIlm
al-​kitāb and Chahār risāla. Additionally, some other sources containing infor-
mation about ʿAndalīb’s life must likewise be considered, such as Nāṣir Nadhīr
Firāq’s (d. 1351/​1933) Maykhāna-​yi dard, Mīr Athar’s Mathnawī, and Hidāyat
Allāh Khān Hidāyat’s (d. ca. 1215/​1800) Chirāgh-​i Hidāyat. It must be kept in
mind that ʿAndalīb is a little-​known master among the authors of tadhkiras or
biographical anthologies. A small number of tadhkiras introduced him among
religious poets and mystics, such as the Tadhkira-​yi Hindi of Ghulām Muṣḥafī
Hamadānī, Majmaʿ al-​nafāʾis of Sirāj al-​Dīn ʿAlī Khān Ārzū, Muntakhab
al-​laṭāʾif of Raḥm ʿAlī Khān Īmān, Tadhkira-​yi rūz-​i rawshan of Muḥammad
Ṣabā, Safīna-​yi Hindi of Bindrāban Dās Khushgū and Ṣuḥuf-​i Ibrāhīm of ʿAlī
Ibrāhīm Khān. In the mentioned tadhkiras, authors simply give his name with
a very brief introduction lacking any details. For instance, in Tadhkira-​yi rūz-​i
rawshan, which is an invaluable source for the study of Persian in the subcon-
tinent, Muḥammad Ṣabā only quoted a single verse from ʿAndalīb and wrote
that “he was the nightingale of the garden of poetry.”1

Born into a Naqshbandī Mujaddidī Family


ʿAndalīb’s character must be understood in light of his immigrant Naqshbandī
ancestors, who hailed from Bukhārā in Transoxiana. Through Bahāʾ al-​Dīn
Naqshband (d. 791/​1391), his family origin goes back to the eleventh Shiʿi
imam, al-​Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī (d. 254/​868), as the thirteenth generation after the
imam.2 Mīr Dard called his father Khwāja zāda (“child of the great masters

DOI: 10.4324/9781003228899-2
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  37
[of Sufism]”), thus pointing to their familial connection to Central Asia by
alluding to the Khwājagān current of Sufism that preceded Bahāʾ al-​Dīn, who
was also called a sayyid and Khwāja.3 ʿAndalīb’s forefathers had immigrated
to India during the reign of Aurangzeb (r. 1068/​ 1658–​1118/​1707).4 One
of ʿAndalīb’s ancestors was Khwāja Muḥammad Ṭāhir (d. unk), a great
Naqshbandī shaykh as well as a prominent sayyid, who refused all invitations
from Emperor Aurangzeb for meeting at court as well as rejecting all high and
influential posts that the emperor suggested to him. However, the emperor’s
insistence on having his support and attention to social and political affairs
caused him to allow his son Muḥammad Ṣāliḥ and his brothers and nephews to
enter into imperial service. After they were appointed to important positions
in the administration, the family, like other Naqshbandīs, became known as
Turani (from Turan or Transoxiana) in the court of the Mughals.5
The background of Emperor Aurangzeb’s favor toward ʿAndalīb’s family
was related to his affinity to Naqshbandī Mujaddidī teachings. He was
initiated into this lineage by Aḥmad Sirhindī’s third son, Khwāja Muḥammad
Maʿṣūm (d. 1079/​ 1668). On ascending the throne, a Mujaddidī master,
Muḥammad Sayf al-​Dīn (d. 1096/​1685), supported him. It can be argued that
the Mujaddidīs’ relationship with Aurangzeb was an attempt to penetrate the
royal court in order to control the politicians based on their belief that the
Mughal rulers should act as key figures in spreading piety among the Muslim
community. Mujaddidīs thus felt it was their responsibility to supervise
the rulers as the protectors of sharīʿa and Prophetic morality. Naqshbandī
Mujaddidīs approved of Aurangzeb’s goal of constructing a strictly pure
Islamic land and rebuilding the ‘true’ Islamic governance of al-​khulafāʾ al-​
rāshidūn (“the rightly-​guided caliphs”).6 ʿAndalīb’s respect for Aurangzeb,
whom he calls the provident king (shāh-​i ʿāqibat andīsh), provided legitimacy
for his reign so that he could be known as an accepted Muslim ruler.7 The
close relationship was strengthened through intermarriages with the Mughal
family, since two of Khwāja Muḥammad Ṭāhir’s sons married daughters of
Aurangzeb’s younger brother, Prince Murād Bakhsh,8 and the family became
involved in the struggles among courtiers and the bloody conflicts between
princes after the death of Aurangzeb and as the Mughal Empire underwent
its decline.9
As explained above, holding offices in the imperial court and enjoying high
position was not popular among all of ʿAndalīb’s Naqshbandī ancestors,
as some of them avoided power and wealth. Unlike his brothers, ʿAndalīb’s
grandfather, the third son of Khwāja Fatḥ Allāh Khān (d. 1118/​1707), was not
interested in connections to the royal family and did not accept any of the high
positions offered to him.10 Mīr Athar, ʿAndalīb’s son, explains in his Mathnawī
that his ancestors’ avoidance of intermarriage with the royal family was
intended to protect the purity of the bloodline of the Prophet’s descendants.11
Some historically negative perspectives are helpful for establishing that such
Naqshbandī Mujaddidī Sufis bitterly resented the royal family’s manner of
governing, lack of religiosity and failure to observe Islamic moral principles.
38  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
Emperor Bahādur Shāh (r. 1118/​1707–​1123/​1712), Aurangzeb’s successor, was
seen as a heedless king (shāh-​i bī khabar) because of his ignorance of state
affairs, poor statesmanship and inaction.12 Jahāndār Shāh (r. 1124/​1712–​1125/​
1713), who was placed on the throne of Delhi at age fifty-​one, was considered
a mere puppet in the hands of the famous kingmaker, Dhū’l-​Fiqār Khān. His
policy concerning bribery and corruption in his administration was criticized
for weakening the Muslim Empire.13 The position of Naqshbandī Mujaddidīs
as Sunni Turanian courtiers was threatened by the Sayyid brothers of the Bārha
family14 during the reign of Emperor Farrukh Siyar (r. 1124/​1713–​1131/​1719).
Factionalism was exacerbated by the Sayyid brothers, since they promoted
an alliance between themselves, indigenous Indians and Hindustani Muslims
against the ruling foreigners, that is the Mughals along with the Turanian
and Iranian noblemen.15 After Farrukh Siyar, those princes who were raised
to the throne by the Sayyid brothers, known as powerful kingmakers, such as
Rafīʿ al-​Darajāt, Shāh Jahān II, Nīkū Siyar and Ibrāhīm had not received the
Naqshbandī Mujaddidī family’s full support.
Whether accepting or rejecting rulers, Naqshbandī Mujaddidīs have often
exhibited a strong connection between religion and politics, as can be seen
in the life of ʿAndalīb’s father, Nawwāb Ẓafar Allāh Khān, see Table 1.1, a
great officer in the Mughal army,16 who at the same time strengthened his
close connections with major active Sufi orders, namely the Naqshbandiyya
Mujaddidiyya as well as the Chishtiyya and Qādiriyya. Although a Naqshbandī
Sufi himself, Nawwāb Ẓafar Allāh Khān took the oath of allegiance to Mīrān
Shāh Beg, a shaykh in the Chishtiyya Ṣābiriyya.17 For this reason, he married
ʿAndalīb’s mother, who was a Ḥusaynī sayyid and descended from the children
of Fāṭima (Banī Faṭima). Among her ancestors was ʿAbd al-​Qādir Jīlānī
(d. 561/​1166), a Sufi shaykh and the eponym of the Qādiriyya.18 Mīr Dard
interprets these connections as having made ʿAndalīb a true heir of the know-
ledge of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, Bahāʾ al-​Dīn Naqshband and ʿAbd al-​Qādir Jīlānī
and his essence manifests the perfections of the imamate.19

Table 1.1 ʿAndalīb’s family tree


Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  39
The circumstances of Muḥammad Shāh’s reign (r. 1131/​1719–​1161/​1748)
should also be considered here, since it was during this period that three sig-
nificant events took place in the life of ʿAndalīb: his vision of al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī
(d. 50/​670) along with his founding the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
and writing Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. The Naqshbandī Mujaddidī family and other
Mughal nobility of Turanian and Iranian descent became increasingly
marginalized during the long period of Muḥammad Shāh’s reign. Niẓām
al-​Mulk Āṣaf Jāh (d. 1161/​1748) led a rebellion that usurped the Sayyids’
power and seized control of the Mughal Empire.20 Later, the rising influence
of Niẓām al-​Mulk, the Turanian grand vizier, caused conflicts between his
Turanian advocates and the Iranian faction.21 The Delhi government lost its
authority due to difficulties in maintaining its enlarged territories as well as its
severe policies toward local powers and religious groups. The provinces took
advantage of its weakness, increasing their own power and steadily slipping
out from under imperial control. Delhi was plunged into chaos and plunderers
looted people’s property and brutally slaughtered many innocents. The city
underwent a series of such invasions, one of the most important of which was
the Maratha’s attack in 1149/​1737. The next invasion was by Nādir Shāh,22
King of Iran (r. 1148/​1736–​1160/​1747), who defeated the Mughal army at the
Battle of Karnāl near Delhi in 1151/​1739. Nādir Shāh’s army occupied Delhi
and arrested Muḥammad Shāh. After the slaughter of over 20,000 citizens
of Delhi, the massacre was only stopped when Muḥammad Shāh pleaded for
mercy from Nādir Shāh.23 Since the roads were entirely closed and a famine
had broken out, the survivors of the city were in a dire state.24
Throughout Nādir’s invasion, ʿAndalīb never left the city and he, along
with his family, remained in a sparsely populated area. Khushgū, the author
of Tadhkira-​yi safīna-​yi Hindī, mentions the district called Ṣadr Bazaar as
their place of residence.25 For ʿAndalīb, Delhi was one of the major centers
of the Islamic world, and he believed in trusting in the mercy of God despite
this being a time in which the city was permeated with fear and living there
during these attacks was quite dangerous.26 Andalīb was witness to the killing
of a large number of people throughout the duration of Nādir’s invasion. Mīr
Dard’s description of the circumstances of Delhi during that period reveals
his despair over the state of anarchy and violence:

The people of this world hurt me


For nothing, they absurdly slayed me.
From four sides, the dust of hearts rose up,
As though I was buried under the ground.27

An al-​Ḥasan Uwaysī Sufi


ʿAndalīb was a warrior and a Turanian nobleman in the imperial army
in Shāhjahānābād. He excelled in martial skills and held a military rank
(manṣabdār), and put himself completely at the disposal of the ruler. Yet
40  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
during the reign of Muḥammad Shāh, he resigned his manṣab, leaving mili-
tary service and renouncing his life among the aristocracy to devote himself
to Sufism and chose a life of contemplation and poverty.28 According to the
claim that justified founding his own ṭarīqa, the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya,
ʿAndalīb was an al-​Ḥasan uwaysī Sufi29 due to a vision of al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī in
which he was bestowed with intuitive knowledge.30 Initiations upon receiving
visions of one of the Shiʿi imams was popularized in Iran during the eight-
eenth century.31 In the terminology of Sufism, ʿuwaysī Sufis took their name
from ʿUways al-​Qaranī (d. 37/​657), a model of piety in Islam and one of
the earliest martyrs. It is believed that ʿUways gained divine knowledge dir-
ectly from the Prophet, whom he never actually met.32 Later, ʿuwaysī status
was attributed to those who follow a shaykh without meeting him or are
initiated by the powerful spirit of a dead shaykh. In this point of view, a
physical disciple-​master relationship is not necessary. The Naqshbandī lin-
eage includes ʿuwaysī connections, viz., between Bāyazīd Bisṭāmī (d. 261/​874),
Abū al-​Ḥasan Kharaqānī (d. 425/​1033), ʿAbd al-​Khāliq Ghijduwānī (d. 617/​
1179), and Bahāʾ al-​Dīn Naqshband.33
Receiving knowledge directly from the grandson of the Prophet meant
that his knowledge was not acquired (kasbī), therefore, he claimed to be a
God-​inspired mystic (mulham) and a recipient of God-​given knowledge (ʿilm-​
i ladunnī) from Lordly inspirations (ilhāmāt-​i ilāhī).34 Based on this, his son
Mīr Dard, the author of ʿIlm al-​kitāb, argued that this vision established
ʿAndalīb as the true heir of the Prophet’s interior knowledge and sanctity.35
Nevertheless, traditional religious teachings in a Mujaddidī family must not
be ignored, since he learned the Qurʾān, Qurʾānic interpretation, ḥadīth and
jurisprudence from his father and his grandfather.36 Āsay Muḥammad ʿAbd
al-​ʿAlī Madrāsī (d. unk), the author of the epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and
a person who prepared the manuscript for publication in Shāhjahānī printing
house at the end of the nineteenth century, states that what ʿAndalīb had
learned was a comprehensive knowledge of traditional and intellectual
sciences in both the exoteric and esoteric realms.37
As a musician and an excellent singer, his interest in music contrasted
with what he learned from the sharīʿa-​centered Mujaddidī teachings of his
family, and it was especially controversial because of his claim of having
received Prophetic knowledge.38 The description of Chander Shekhar and
Shama Mitra Chenoy in an introduction to Dargah Quli Khan’s Muraqqaʿ-​e
Dehli is helpful for contextualizing ʿAndalīb’s interest in music. During that
time in Delhi, music “functioned not only as an esoteric art, or a source of
entertainment, but also a powerful instrument of cultural integration and
social harmony,”39 and many musical gatherings (maḥfils) were held by the
rich, emirs and Sufis. Also, strangely garbed Sufi musicians wandered the
land carrying musical instruments on their shoulders. A large number of
people participated in the ceremonies observed at the death anniversaries
(ʿurs) of celebrated Sufi masters, playing music and singing mystical poems
because they believed that in death, the shaykh attained union with God, a
union symbolically called marriage or ʿurs. ʿAndalīb learned a great deal
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  41
about spiritual music and dance, and his knowledge and understanding
of music were reflected through the words of the characters in Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb. This confirms that, on a more intellectual level, he knew about
the theory and practice of music in the Mughal era.40 He organized maḥfil-​i
samāʿ on the third day of each month in a spacious compound provided by
Mihr-​Parwar Begum, probably in the “Chilan ka kuch” area of old Delhi.
ʿAndalīb was inspired by his first master, Saʿd Allāh Gulshan (d. 1140/​
1728), a famous mystical poet whose pupils had influential roles among
Sufi music circles. After Gulshan, the eve of his ʿurs was for many years an
occasion where thousands of people assembled, including a large number
of noble guests, and his pupils, such as the famous musician Niʿmat Khān,
performed musical recitals.41 Hidāyat, a disciple of ʿAndalīb, writes about
how his teacher valued samāʿ, a point of view that increased Naqshbandī
criticism toward him and went counter to certain understandings of the
sharīʿa, including that of Sirhindī, who disapproved of contemporary Sufis
such as the Chishtīs engaging in samāʿ.42

O Dervish, I remember that an adversary came and raised objection


against samāʿ and said to my shaykh “when you are a very religious
and pious person, holding samāʿ is not proper and you should stop this
prohibited act.” When ʿAndalīb listened to him, he felt deeply sorry and
said, “O dear, how valuable my good deeds are that I must stop my sins?
You should try your hardest to be a good servant of God.”
“Subḥān Allāh (“Glory to God”)! People of God consider their good
deeds similar to sins. Sinful men repent of their sins, while mystics repent
of their prayers and worships.”43

A Devotee of Sufism
ʿAndalīb joined two prominent masters in the Naqshbandiyya Mujaddidiyya
who linked him to two different movements. He writes about them in Risāla-​
yi hūsh afzā: “I often met your great Sufi master, Pīr Muḥammad Zubayr, I sat
among his circle of meditation, and I also had close contact with your master,
Saʿd Allāh Gulshan.”44 ʿAndalīb’s first master was the above-​ mentioned
renowned Sufi Saʿd Allāh Gulshan Dihlawī, whose role in mystical Persian
poetry in India and skill at music is comparable with that of Amīr Khusraw
Dihlawī (d. 725/​1325), such that he even came to be known as the “second
Khusraw.”45 He was a spiritual devotee of ʿAbd al-​Aḥad Sirhindī (d. ca. 1141/​
1729), also known as Waḥdat.46 Under ʿAbd al-​Aḥad’s influence, Gulshan
gave ʿAndalīb his sobriquet: ʿAndalīb (“Nightingale”), which was related to
his own moniker and also to that of ʿAbd al-​Aḥad, whose pen name was Gul,
since gul (“rose”), gulshan (“rose garden”) and ʿandalīb (“nightingale”) are
related words in Persian, see Table 1.2.47
Gulshan linked ʿAndalīb to the rising ascendancy of Urdu over Persian
in the literary world of Delhi. ʿAndalīb and his son Mīr Dard became
prominent members of a group that encouraged the development of Urdu
42  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
Table 1.2 Tree of pen names

ʿAbd al-​Aḥad Waḥdat Gul


Shāh Saʿd Allāh Gulshan
Khwāja Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb
Khwāja Mīr Dard
Muḥammad Mīr Athar
Khwāja Ṣāḥib Mīr Alam
Khwāja Naṣīr Ranj

Source: I have completed it based on what Firāq presented in his work. See Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi
Dard, p. 54.
Note: This lineage or tree of pen names is from an introduction written by Muḥammad Ḥabīb
al-​Raḥmān Khān Shirwānī in Mīr Dard, Dīwān-​i Dard Urdu (Lahore: Nizami Press Badaun,
1922), p. 2.

poetry. As a migrant dervish from Burhanpur to Delhi, Gulshan lived for


about 20 years in Zīnat al-​Masājid.48 He used to hold weekly meetings called
mushāʿira every Saturday, at which both Muslim and Hindu poets were in
attendance. In these meetings, poetry was recited and discussed, resulting in
the gradual reshaping and refinement of Urdu poetry. Moreover, Gulshan
connected ʿAndalīb to a tendency toward revising Mujaddidī practice by now
performing music and dance which, as already mentioned, broke with the
more restrictive sharīʿa-​mindedness prevalent in this lineage. In addition, his
tolerance toward other religions and their followers, and indeed his friendship
with non-​Muslims, contrasted with the more religiously exclusivist positions
of most other Naqshbandīs.49 Gulshan introduced many prospective disciples
asking to become his pupil, including Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān, to Pīr Muḥammad
Zubayr.50 Nevertheless, his charismatic personality attracted a large number
of devotees who were all under his influence, such as Bindrāban Dās Khushgū
(d. 1169/​1756), Sirāj al-​Dīn ʿAlī Khān Ārzū (d. 1169/​1756), Shāh Walī Allāh
and ʿAndalīb. Firāq introduced Gulshan as pīr-​i ṣuḥbat for ʿAndalīb in the
field of poetry.51 Here, the title of pīr-​i ṣuḥbat refers to a master who inculcates
dhikr in the disciple and supervises his states on all stages of the spiritual
path.52 The questions are thus posed: was ʿAndalīb considered to have a
higher spiritual state, and thus the potential to attract more disciples, than his
own master Gulshan because of his vision of al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī? And if so, was
this the reason for him being a disciple in poetry but not in Sufism? Schimmel
believes the latter would have been impossible on chronological grounds, since
Gulshan died in 1140/​1728 while ʿAndalīb’s vision was likely in his mid 30s.53
Gulshan died in ʿAndalīb’s house and was buried in the Aḥadī Purā quarter
near Shāh-​Ganj district on ʿAndalīb’s estate.54
Through Gulshan, ʿAndalīb and other people around him like Khān Ārzū
and Khushbū had close connections to Muḥammad Afḍal Sarkhush (d. 1126/​
1714) and ʿAbd al-​Qādir Bīdil’s (d. 1133/​1721) literary circle.55 Bīdil, as a well-​
known mystic poet, in the “Indian style” (sabk-​i hindī), was widely imitated
by the next generations. It can be argued that it was under his influence that
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  43
Gulshan’s Sufism provided the scene for dialogue between Muslim and Hindu
disciples. Bīdil’s works made a bridge between Islamic knowledge and Indian
philosophy, and connected non-​Muslim and Muslim parts of society.56 His
works like Mathnawī Muḥīt Aʿẓam, although known for complexity, ambi-
guity, and difficulty, had an important role in popularizing the waḥdat al-​
wujūdī terminology, mainly Fuṣūṣ al-​ḥikam, among Persian Sufi authors and
poets in India. It can be assumed that ʿAndalīb met Bīdil and was familiar
with his teachings, but after the death of Bīdil, it was notably Gulshan who
maintained the connection of the Sufi circles with Bīdil’s thought. It can be
claimed that the canonical notion of the perfect man and the high rank of the
Prophet Muḥammad in terms of Ibn al-​ʿArabian thought was conveyed to
ʿAndalīb’s Sufism from Bīdil.
ʿAndalīb’s first master can be regarded as having been somewhat influenced
by the Indian religious environment and also as a critic of Aḥmad Sirhindī’s
teachings, but his second master, Pīr Muḥammad Zubayr (d. 1152/​1740), was
a protector and reviver of Sirhindī’s Mujaddidī tradition. What made the
latter a strong spiritual authority was his being the fourth and last qayyūm, the
grandson of Sirhindī.57 In Sirhindī’s doctrine of qayyūmiyya, the very stability
and order of all of existence depend upon a dignitary who is called the qayyūm,
a living sustainer of the world. Just as with the four caliphs of the Prophet, the
status of qayyūm was limited by Sirhindī to four persons, although the title
was also claimed by several other leading figures to show their authority. The
four qayyūms are generally considered to have been Sirhindī himself and three
of his heirs in succession, Muḥammad Maʿṣūm (d. 1079/​1668), Muḥammad
Ḥujjat Allāh Naqshband (d. 1115/​1703) and finally Zubayr.58
Zubayr was known as a “shaykh of allegiance” (pīr-​i bayʿat),59 who
initiated ʿAndalīb and a large number of disciples into the Mujaddidiyya.60
His aim was to convey the sober Mujaddidī Sufism and the idea of the spir-
itual leadership of the mujaddid and the qayyūm. According to Rawḍat al-​
qayyūmiyya, a work about the four qayyūms written by Abū al-​Fayḍ Kamāl
al-​Dīn Iḥsān, after ʿAndalīb completed the spiritual path and obtained the
prophetic perfections and the status of wilāya in the Mujaddidiyya, Zubayr
held him in high esteem and appointed him as a deputy (khalīfa, pl. khulafaʾ).
Being a qayyūm’s khalīfa gave him a high rank among Mujadidīs because
he was responsible for propagating the master’s teachings in different areas,
which entailed engagement with different sectors of society, including in the
realm of politics. In Iḥsān’s work, what distinguished ʿAndalīb from other
khulafaʾ was his eloquence and ability to speak in an attractive way, a charac-
teristic that led to many disciples gathering around him, as a representative of
the last qayyūm and a spiritual guide on the path.61
Under Zubayr’s influence, ʿAndalīb became involved in religious struggles
in Delhi, since Zubayr had an important role in the conflict between Muslims
and non-​Muslims along with clashes between Shiʿis and Sunnis. The shoe-​
sellers’ riot had a religious color and started with a tussle between one of his
disciples and a Hindu in a bazaar in 1141/​1729.62 As Iḥsān highlighted, Zubayr
44  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
was a powerful character in politics, since his support helped Bahādur Shāh
to be enthroned as emperor, though his innovation in religion (Shiʿi tendency)
caused him to lose Zubayr’s support forever.63 Rawḍat al-​qayyūmiyya reflects
Zubayr’s negative opinions about Farrukh Siyar and subsequent successors
to the Mughal throne who failed to observe sharīʿa and morality. From his
point of view, their policy allowed the Sayyid brothers of Bārha to oppress
Turanians at the court of the Mughal emperors. In sum, Zubayr considered
the Bārha Sayyids as enemies of the Turanian Naqshbandīs.64
Zubayr was concerned with poverty, moral corruption, the rulers’
oppression and injustice. Therefore, he believed in the notion of the
corruption of time (fisād al-​zamān) as representing the existing social situ-
ation. He warned about the increase in sinfulness and predicted a catastrophic
calamity in the near future, and indeed, Nādir’s invasion was about to take
place.65 Zubayr, who was venerated by the Mughal emperors as a great spir-
itual guide, never met Muḥammad Shāh, but Iḥsān believes that it was due
to a miracle attributed to the former that the king was able to regain control
of the territory after Nādir’s invasion.66 Iḥsān writes that after 1,000 years,
Pīr Muḥammad Zubayr was a true successor of Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq (d. 148/​765),
the sixth Shiʿi imam who also appears in the early Naqshbandī initiatic
chain (silsila). His role was similar to that of Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq in preserving the
people from suffering after Abū Muslim Khurāsānī’s (d. 137/​755) rebellion.
Although his death disturbed the order of the world, Iḥsān explains that Pīr
Muḥammad Zubayr was a redeemer who brought redemption to India when
it was involved in troubled circumstances caused by rampant immorality and
irreligiosity.67 Here regarding Zubayr being an heir of Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq, this
authority creates a paradox of Sunni affinities and friendship with the ahl al-​
bayt that was also seen in the Naqshbandiyya from Bahāʾ al-​Dīn Naqshband,
who was a Ḥusaynī sayyid, to Nūr al-​Dīn ʿAbd al-​Raḥmān Jāmī (d. 898/​
1492), whose impact on Sufism in India has been referred to. In addition,
considering the Mahdī a Mujaddid from Sirhindī’s perspective demonstrates
the strong love for the ahl al-​bayt in this Sunni-​based path.68 To respond to
this paradox, it must be noted that the Sunni attitudes of the Naqshbandiyya
and their respect toward Imams must be separated from their criticism of
Shiʿism related to the notion of wilāya. Therefore, Sunni/​Shiʿa antagonism
cannot be ignored in Zubayr’s and the teachings of other Naqshbandis.69

A Mujaddidī-​Khāliṣ Muḥammadī Master


The first disciple of ʿAndalīb in the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya was Mīr
Dard, a famous mystic poet and his second son born in 1133/​1721 from his
second wife.70 From his first wife, ʿAndalīb had his first son, Mīr Muḥammad
Maḥfūẓ, who died in 1154/​1741 at the age of 29.71 In ʿAndalīb’s eyes, Mīr
Dard was his fortunate middle son.72 He propagated Khāliṣ Muḥammadī
principles after succeeding ʿAndalīb in 1172/​1759 and he claimed to have
reached perfect identity with his father-​shaykh, asserting that everything he
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  45
wrote was connected with his father. Each chapter of Mīr Dard’s major book,
ʿIlm al-​kitāb, begins with the expression Yā Nāṣir, and treatises in Chahār
risāla are arranged into 331 paragraphs, indicating the numerological value of
the Arabic word nāṣir.73 He eulogizes his father with various words:

I am not, in myself, deserving of you


However, I am sincerely kind to you
O your Excellency, Muḥammad Nāṣir in such lofty a position!
You love Gulshan and I love you.74

After Dard, Muḥammad Mīr (d. 1209/​1794) became the next successor and
leader of the new ṭarīqa. He was one of ʿAndalīb’s two youngest sons, the other
being Sayyid Mīr Muḥammadī (d. 1163/​1750).75 He became famous under the
sobriquet of Athar (“result”) and developed strong bonds of friendship and
companionship with Dard.76 Hidāyat, ʿAndalīb’s disciple who was sincerely
devoted to his successors as well, holds that Mīr Dard and Athar were like
the sun and the moon, and that they both guided followers toward the ideal
of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya.77 ʿAndalīb’s important descendants
are, through Mīr Dard, three surviving children.78 His son, Mīr Alam, became
the leader of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya and lived for a long time
in Bengal with his many disciples. Hidāyat held him in high esteem, stating
that the superficial world held no interest for such a pious man.79 One can
also mention here Muḥammad Nāṣir Ranj (d. 1260/​1845), yet another great
poet from the later generations of ʿAndalīb’s family.80 Also significant is Nāṣir
Nadhīr, who was a poet and author of many books in Urdu under the pen
name of Firāq.81 He was the author of the Maykhāna-​yi dard, which was
written in Urdu and is the only comprehensive description of this family.
Another disciple of ʿAndalīb was Shāh Muḥammadī, also known as Bīdār-​
Dil (d. unk.),82 whose name is mentioned in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb as one of the
persons who transcribed ʿAndalīb’s words. He was himself a poet, and some
of his poems are quoted in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb as a chronogram for the date
of the compilation of the work.83 Hidāyat, the author of Chirāq-​i hidāyat
(composed in 1214/​1799), was another follower of ʿAndalīb, who states that
he was a student of ʿAndalīb and under his patronage since his childhood.
He praises ʿAndalīb in his Chirāgh-​i hidāyat in the following passage: “O
your Excellency Khwāja! Help me. O Khwāja! Help me. O Khwāja Muḥammad
Nāṣir! You are a person whose inner and outer have been confirmed; help!”84
ʿAndalīb’s networking in Delhi and relationships with his contempor-
aries, such as the circle of Sufis and poets of Zīnat al-​Masājid, are not easily
discerned due to the lack of direct information in his own works and other
primary literature. It has already been mentioned that many poets attended
the meetings held by Gulshan near Zīnat al-​Masājid, though there are no
reliably accurate or detailed accounts of what specifically transpired at those
meetings. Zīnat al-​Masājid (literally meaning, “Jewel of Mosques”), known
also as “Ghata Masjid,” was constructed in 1118/​1707 by Zīnat al-​Nisā Begum
46  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
(d. 1133/​1721).85 In order to avoid worldly life, several ascetics and Sufis took
up residence in the courtyard of this mosque, thus many people could come to
visit them there and listen to their preaching. The circle of poets and mystics
that formed around this mosque was significant in the cultural circumstances
of Delhi, which had long been a center of Persian literature, though during
the time of Gulshan and ʿAndalīb, it became a center of Urdu literature. After
Gulshan, ʿAndalīb conducted mushāʿiras and led the circle at the mosque.
If the connection of ʿAndalīb with this circle at Zīnat al-​Masājid allowed
him to extend his contacts with other significant contemporaries, it raises
the question for us: did his relationships represent the same kind of spiritual
power and influence as his famous Mujaddidī counterparts?86 After ʿAndalīb,
Mīr Dard organized similar meetings of poets at least once per month.87 Sirāj
al-​Dīn ʿAlī Khān Ārzū, also known as the “Aristotle of Urdu literature,” refers
to his more than 30-​year friendship with ʿAndalīb and humbly considers him-
self as like his disciple.88 ʿAndalīb must certainly have had contact with other
attendees, among them should be mentioned the famed Urdu poet Mīr Taqī
Mīr (d. 1225/​1810). While not a disciple of ʿAndalīb, as a person who also
participated in the mushāʿiras, they probably met often. ʿAndalīb predicted
Mīr Taqī Mīr’s future greatness and that he would become the master of the
assembly (mīr-​i majlis), a prediction which later became true.89

Legendary Accounts of a Guide on the Path of Allāh


ʿAndalīb died on the fourth of Shaʿbān 1172/​2 April 1759.90 His tomb, see
Figures 1.1 and 1.2, is located outside of the Turkmān Gate entrance to
Shāhjahānābād.91 This is the same location that Aurangzeb’s daughter-​in-​law
had offered for refuge from Nādir Shāh’s onslaught to ʿAndalīb and his family
in around 1152/​1740 and where he is now buried. Later, the tombs of Mīr
Dard and other members of his family were placed there.92 At that point in
time, this place was called “Bāghcha Mīr Dard,” and nowadays, it is called
“Bastī Mīr Dard.”93 The Prophet himself is said to have indicated this place
to Dard as the burial site for his father. There, it is inscribed:

God’s friend, Khwāja Muḥammad Nāṣir


The person whom the Real is his guide, Khwāja Muḥammad Nāṣir
He is leader, intercessor and guide for all
in both worlds, Khwājh Muḥammad Nāṣir.94

Hidāyat acknowledges that ʿAndalīb disagreed with the performance of


miracles and that he never tried to attract people by karāmat (“miracles”
performed by saints).95 Mīr Dard also says that karāmāt had no value in his
father’s eyes and he often said that istiqāma, “perseverance,” is superior to
them. However, he reveals in ʿIlm al-kitāb some of his father’s karāmāt, saying
that “he performed countless miracles. If they will be written, it would be a
book”.96 Madrāsī writes that ʿAndalīb, as a great shaykh, was honored and
his every act was a sign of divine influence.97
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  47

Figure 1.1 The gravestone of ʿAndalīb. Photograph by Prof. Arif Naushahi. After


“Huwa al-​Nāṣir” on the top, it has been engraved amīr al-​Muḥammadīn,
Mīr Dard’s father, and the author of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and Risāla-​yi hūsh
afzā. Then, the dates of his birth and death have been recorded.
48  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works

Figure 1.2 The mausoleum includes the tombs of 13 members of ʿAndalīb’s family.


Source: Photograph by Prof. Arif Naushahi.

Here, we mention three miracles that were posthumously attributed to


ʿAndalīb, the first of which is related to his own tomb. Mīr Dard and Hidāyat
assert that even without a roofed building, ʿAndalīb’s grave was neither
very hot nor very cold in summer and winter respectively. They believe that
this indicates ʿAndalīb’s kindness towards visitors.98 The second miracle is
concerned with ʿAndalīb’s spiritual connection to his disciples after his death,
since when one of them, along with his companions, were attacked while trav-
elling on the highway, ʿAndalīb posthumously came to their aid and protected
them from danger.99 The third miracle purportedly occurred when Madrāsī
was preparing the manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb for publication and sud-
denly found verses in which ʿAndalīb had, 157 years earlier, thanked Shāh
Jahān Begum Wāliya Bhopal for providing funding for the text to be printed.
He referred to the generosity of Shāhjahānī publishing center in these verses:100

I pray that God protects her white elephant,


All who saw her white elephant became enamored.
When Shāh Jahān mounted the elephant,
It was like sun rise.101
The secret voice (hātif) gave me good news on that day.
I was given patience and stability against oppression and suffering.
What a rare thing is being a servant of Shāh Jahān!
I humbled myself as dust, then, I received many high degrees.102
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  49
It can be argued that the narrating of miracles was intended to bring
attention to ʿAndalīb’s teachings after his death, attesting to his spiritual
rank and demonstrating how after his death, his followers wanted to keep
alive their connection with this master and spread his way of thinking.
Moreover, from biographical accounts along with outlining the political
and cultural conditions of Delhi, or more specifically Shāhjahānābād, some
key factors help in understanding the roots of ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya. His lineage to the eleventh Shiʿa Imam, the notion of the
perfect man in waḥdat al-​wujūd reflected in Bīdil’s teachings and Gulshan’s
poetry, along with his familiarity with the Naqshbandī Mujaddidī belief in
the qayyūm can all be interpreted as parts of his attempt to restore Islam.
His Sufi world demonstrates the development of different approaches among
Sirhindī’s successors. An exclusivist strict trend in Zubayr’s teaching influenced
the role of his followers in the Shiʿa/​Sunni dilemma in the case of Bahādur
Shāh and the shoe-​sellers’ riot and interlocked them with factionalism in the
Mughal court. The tolerant character of Gulshan gathered Muslims with
non-​Muslim disciples in his circle, thus connecting ʿAndalīb with Hindu
elites like Bindrāban Dās Khushgū. For ʿAndalīb, who resided in Delhi his
entire life, the fall of the city at the hands of Nādir Shāh, the instability of the
Muslim empire, as well as the moral laxity and weakness of religiosity were
all motivating factors for composing a lament for Islam in India. His nega-
tive viewpoint led him to present a harmonized system of Islamic thought.
Understanding his attempts to develop an ethical and sharīʿa-​based Sufi path
is the topic of the next few pages.

ʿAndalīb as the Author of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb


Having considered some factors that likely shaped ʿAndalīb’s way of thinking,
such as the influences of his family ties, the teachings of his masters and his
presence in society as a former military officer, a Mujaddidī Sufi and a Khāliṣ
Muḥammadī shaykh, we now open the discussion about ʿAndalīb’s writings.
ʿAndalīb’s major and most famous works are Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and Risāla-​yi
hūsh afzā. Two other works are attributed to him, namely Dīwān-​i ʿAndalīb
and Maʿdan al-​rumūz. It was likely due to ʿAndalīb’s skill at composing
poems combined with his sobriquet appearing in the title that led Firāq and
Qaḍī Aḥmad Miyān Akhtar Junagrī to ascribe the collection of poetry called
the Dīwān-​i ʿAndalīb to him, though no manuscripts or printed books support
their claim. Impressed by ʿAndalīb’s elegant verses in the classical style, they
probably referred to his Persian and Urdu poems which are mainly quoted
in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb.103 The later work, Maʿdan al-​rumūz, is about Islamic
principles and has only been mentioned by Sayyid Fayyāḍ Maḥmūd and
Sayyid Wazīr al-​Ḥasan ʿĀbidī, though neither ʿAndalīb nor Mīr Dard refer
to it.104
50  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works

Origins of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb


The historical context of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, along with its language and genre,
must be precisely scrutinized for insights about their impact on ʿAndalīb to
inform the interpretation of his work. It was a few months after the fall of
Delhi at the hands of Nādir Shāh in 1151/​1739 when news of Pīr Muḥammad
Zubayr’s death deeply shocked Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb. Many disciples
gathered to console him in a dervish monastery (faqīr khāna)105 where, over a
period of three nights, he related a narrative to them in honor of the memory
of Pīr Muḥammad Zubayr. His narration was done simply and in vernacular
Hindi and it was from this narrative that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb would later grow.
ʿAndalīb describes his narrative as having deeply impressed his audience
because of the hidden divine blessings (baraka) in his words. The message
of his narrative enraptured the hearts of many of the attendees who were
blessed with ecstasy and eager for spiritual transformation; they were ready
to be initiated into the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya.106 Zubayr’s disciples
and ʿAndalīb’s friends, who can be generalized as the Mujaddidīs of Delhi,
encouraged ʿAndalīb to commit the narrative to writing. He elaborated his
originally spoken Hindi story in written Persian not only out of their insist-
ence, but also to fulfill an assigned task from the divine and unseen realm
(ilhām-​i ghaybī).107 We might see the other Mujaddidīs’ request as a seal of
approval that ensured the acceptability of his work. The claim of composing
a work based on a sign from the unseen realm (ʿālam al-​ghayb) implicitly
confirms his being an uwaysī Sufi, or an inspired mystic (mulham), thus legit-
imizing him as a reliable vehicle for conveying spirituality. Based off of the
narrative delivered after Muḥammad Zubayr’s death, ʿAndalīb composed
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb (“The Nightingale’s Lament”), that is in ʿAndalīb’s words,
the story of a rose (gul) and a rose garden (gulshan).108 He recounted the
Persian narrative for only a few disciples following maghrib and ʿishāʾ prayers
where Mīr Dard and sometimes one of his disciples, Bīdār Dil, transcribed
ʿAndalīb’s dictation.109 On very seldom occasions, when both Mīr Dard and
Bīdār Dil were absent, ʿAndalīb himself penned parts of the narrative.110
ʿAndalīb finally finished the work in 1153/​1741, the same year that Shāh Walī
Allāh finished his masterpiece, Ḥujjat Allāh al-​bāligha, in Arabic.111

Themes and Audiences


Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is a voluminous work that deals with almost every major
Islamic issue. The variety of its themes is rooted in the critical perspective of
the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya, which will be explored in greater detail
in the following chapters. One might gain a better grasp of the text as a whole,
however, by classifying its contents into a handful of major categories. First,
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb covers broad theoretical perspectives in the field of mysti-
cism, including mystical theology, cosmology, and psychology. The work
is an attempt to defend ʿAndalīb’s opinions and respond to his detractors.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  51
Additionally, ʿAndalīb describes various paths in Sufism112 and takes the
opportunity to criticize Wujūdī Sufism in several places.113 Generally, his
purpose is to share his knowledge and practices of self-​discipline.114 Second,
the work deals with devotional mystical practices; it explains proper con-
duct while travelling the mystical path, companionship (ṣuḥba) and ascetic
practices, rules for sitting, sleeping and mystical dancing, as well as the
disciple-​master relationship. Third, the work addresses religious laws and
examines the nature of sharīʿa and exoteric prescriptions of the faith from a
mystical perspective. Many lengthy passages in this work discuss, for instance,
the rituals of fasting and purification.115 ʿAndalīb, as he himself states, had
at times hoped to express a number of the subtleties of sharīʿa, such as the
rituals of pilgrimage, of which not everyone is capable of comprehending.
Fourth, the work covers theology, and there are some arguments included
under different topics such as compulsion and volition, incomparability and
similarity, the divine names and attributes, visions of God in the afterlife
and so forth. Although Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is a valuable resource for gaining
an understanding of the differences among the Islamic schools, it criticizes
the 73 Islamic sects.116 Fifth, the work touches on ethics, producing moral
instructions for guiding people in obtaining such praiseworthy virtues as
bravery, generosity, motivation, purity, and justice.117 In social and individual
life, the personality of a sincere Muḥammadan (khāliṣ Muḥammadī) is in
accordance with morality as found in ḥadīth and based on Qurʾānic virtues.
Sixth, the work speaks of philosophy and wisdom, describing the reality of
love and true knowledge. It often criticizes the intellect, displaying a pref-
erence for initiation and insight over intellect and reasoning. Seventh, aside
from these main themes, the work addresses other subjects such as politics.
The stories implicitly criticize corruption among members of the ruling class,
their continual internal quarrels and the political instability in India. Finally,
the work also touches upon non-​Muslims in particular, including discussions
of Yogic practices along with Hindu philosophy and customs.
ʿAbd al-​Ḥaqq Shahīd Fātiḥpūrī, who presented a summary of Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb entitled Khulāṣa-​yi Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, asserts that the main topics of
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb are: the nature of creation, God and the divine essence, the
divine names and attributes, divine knowledge, the relationship between God
and creation and the manifestation of signs upon the horizons and signs upon
the souls of mankind, along with their function in theology.118 Another set
of topical divisions is offered by Madrāsī, the author of the epilogue, who
categorizes the subjects in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb into theological, juridical, philo-
sophical and mystical knowledge, which is more similar to ʿAndalīb’s own
categorizations:119 Madrāsī also expounds further on the topics, listing:

[…] knowledge of faith, knowledge of spiritual virtue, knowledge of


Gnosticism, knowledge of annihilation and persistence, knowledge of
asceticism, knowledge of purification and relinquishment, knowledge
of contemplation and vision, knowledge of the unity of God and His
52  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
dissociation from created things, knowledge of the manifestation of
the divine essence and the manifestation of divine attributes, know-
ledge of approaching spontaneous acts of devotion by passing through
stations, understanding abandonment of the world and union with God,
understanding divine beauty and glory, understanding internal discov-
eries and inner states, understanding identity and union, understanding
the origin and the return, understanding existence and non-​existence,
understanding the intuition of God and understanding His presence,
understanding raptures and inspirations, understanding the world of
imagination and the renewal of essences, perceiving divine inspiration
and the understanding of having a conscientious quality, understanding
affirmation and effacement, and understanding confirmation and
independence.120

To answer the question of the text’s intended audience, ʿAndalīb himself


states: “From king to pauper, from elite to commoner, all need [Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb] inevitably [...] for every man and every woman” and also that the
work “is required for God-​seekers (khudā ṭalabān) and for all Muslims.”121
Therefore, ʿAndalīb’s audience includes all genders, and when he refers to
two groups within his audience, according to Ziad’s interpretation, namely
Muslims and God-​seekers, the latter most likely denotes non-​Muslims.122
Generalizing the audiences is not limited to the elites and the common
people, but for all in ʿAndalīb’s time as well as for future generations.123
ʿAndalīb clarifies that the elites are mystics, jurists, theologians, debaters
about morality and philosophers.124 The wide range of his audience, and
the emphasis on attracting noble and ignoble alike, does not mean that
the deepest meanings of the text are to be fully grasped by all, with their
different levels and capacities for understanding.125 In fact, he explicitly
avoids revealing its secrets, which originate from the unseen world and are
incomprehensible for his readers. However, he connects directly to his audi-
ence and addresses them with imperative verbs and at other times calls them
directly126 to encourage them to listen closely to what he says, thus aiming
to awaken them.

Persian: A Comprehensive Vehicle of Expression for ʿAndalīb’s Thought


ʿAndalīb selects Persian as the language in which to compose Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb,
and he does so during the time when this language was losing its influence after
having for many years been the most important vehicle for literary works in
the subcontinent. Coinciding with the degeneration of the Mughal Empire, as
well as with the rise of Muslim scholar and Sufi movements seeking to revive
Islam, ʿAndalīb chooses the Persian language as a symbol of the victory of
the Muslims and of the past glories of the Mughal Empire in India. Seyyed
Hossein Nasr describes India as the second home of this language and culture
which has been closely related to the Iranian world.127 Concerning the place
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  53
of Persian in Mughal India, Muzaffar Alam believes that the language was
present among Indians before the establishment of the Mughal Empire.128 He
points out that Indians had been familiar with Persian and that the elite of the
Mughal Empire chose this language as a comprehensive vehicle to solve the
problem of communication in their vast territory with astonishing cultural,
religious and linguistic diversity.129 In brief, Persian made Mughal rule over
the region easier.130 In the book History of Muslim Literature in Pakistan and
India, it has been mentioned that the most sublime and accomplished Persian
poetry was produced from the late sixteenth until the early seventeenth cen-
turies. Nāṣir ʿAlī Sirhindī (d. 1108/​1696) and Bīdil Dihlawī are the most
famous poets of that age. The Persian language flourished in these centuries
up to the reign of Aurangzeb, but after his death (1118/​1707), a major change
in the literary sphere occurred.131 Persian as a medium of expression was still
popular in early eighteenth-​century India, as Muzaffar Alam mentions that
a large number of Persian poets lived in the first half of the century. To find
the names of famous poets of the era, he refers to two well-​known tadhkiras,
namely Majmaʿ al-​nafāʾis by Sirāj al-​Dīn ʿAlī Khān Ārzū, the great linguist
and lexicographer, and Ṣuḥuf-​i Ibrāhīm by ʿAlī Ibrāhīm Khān Khalīl (d. 1208/​
1793).132
Although ʿAndalīb utilizes Persian as the language of his magnum opus, at
the time he was writing, Urdu was actually replacing Persian as a new literary
medium. Persian along with Arabic declined in significance, since the first was
an administrative language for nobles, and the latter had long been the lan-
guage of scholars. In the eighteenth century, linguistic reform took place and
Urdu began to flourish, since the need arose to communicate with common
people who spoke Indian vernacular languages.133 In the cultural history of
Delhi, Indian Muslim poets affiliated with Gulshan, ʿAndalīb’s first master,
played a critical role in the attempts to enhance and spread the Urdu language
and its literature. His literary circle both directly and indirectly influenced
those figures who are known as the four pillars of Urdu, including ʿAndalīb’s
son Mīr Dard along with Mīrzā Muḥammad Rafīʿ Sawdā (d. 1193/​1780),
Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān and Mīr Taqī Mīr.134 Under Gulshan’s influential leading
role, ʿAndalīb would certainly have understood the significance of which lan-
guage he chose to use. The reason why both he and Walī Allāh preferred to
write in Persian might be out of a desire to maintain a connection to a highly
sophisticated Persian literary tradition, since Urdu was only in its first stages
of development and was thus still imperfect.135

Genre and Literary Style


Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is composed in allegorical didactic and artistic prose. Yet
because of the text’s complexity, including its numerous poems and wealth
of hidden meaning, ʿAndalīb described his work as a “light of thought and
the mirror of beauty.” This statement can be interpreted as referring to how
he combined two ways of understanding, that is through inspiration as well
54  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
as reason. He sets the work in the group of “the best of stories” (aḥsan al-​
qaṣaṣ),136 and since the Qurʾān also uses these same words to describe itself as
the best of stories, ʿAndalīb is emphasizing the relationship of his work with
the main source of Islam. He also calls it “the legend of the darling sweet-
heart” (afsāna-​yi jānāna), which refers to his employment of language and
imagery on divine love from the rich Persian literary tradition.137 Concerning
style, Madrāsī asserts that the work was written in eloquent and ornate poetry
as well as in rhetorical and rhymed prose.138 In contrast, ʿAndalīb himself
considers it to be simple and straightforward Persian prose intended to aid in
understanding. Among modern scholars, Muzaffar Alam considers ʿAndalīb’s
work to fall in the genre of the fable or tale (dāstān), thus distinguishing it
from popular Sufi treatises and malfūẓāt of that time in India.139
Regarding the literary genre, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb can also be discussed as a prem
kahānī (“love story”), which is an important genre from a cultural-​historical
point of view. According to ʿAndalīb, the work could be placed among Indian
stories of love and warning (prem kahānī wa chītāwnī). The prem kahānī is known
as a distinguished genre and was very popular among non-​native Muslim elites
in India but it was also attractive for Sufis, mostly Chishtīs, as well as the gen-
eral public. Among different Sufi authors who contributed to the development
of this genre from the fourteenth to seventeenth centuries, some names must
be mentioned. These include Mullā Dawūd, a Chishtī Sufi who composed
Chandāyan; Qutbān, a Suhrawardī Sufi who composed Mirigāwatī;140 Mīr
Sayyid Manjhan Rajgiri, a Shaṭṭārī who composed Madhumalātī; ʿUthmān
Ghāḍīpūrī, who composed Chitrāwalī; and finally Malik Muḥammad Jāyasī,
who composed Padmāwat. The effect of the genre of prem kahānī was to make
the indigenous society familiar with Islam.141 The Muslim authors of this genre
applied famous Indian love stories from folk traditions with elements in Hindi
vernacular, and in doing so they also narrated their historical and cultural
circumstances. For this reason, apart from the outer layer or the apparent love
story, an inner layer of the texts in this genre has a profound social and symbolic
meaning. For this characteristic, according to Tanvir Anjum, this genre was
“the beginning of an Indo-​Islamic literary tradition” and it was somehow indi-
genizing “Islamic religious traditions in Indian cultural landscape.”142 Putting
ʿAndalīb’s transcribed work in this categorization is questionable though, since
the language used separates it from other works in this genre, yet the original
Hindi narration of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb on which the Persian text is based could
allow it to be classified under the label of prem kahānī.
Amīr Khusraw and Bīdil were two leading figures in the blending of Indian
knowledge and Islamic thought. In following them, ʿAndalīb was undoubtedly
captured by the wisdom, epics, myths, and ethics of the Mahābhārata, Rāmāyana
and the Vedas. The most famous literature in the Mughal period are Ḥamza-​
nāma, Ḥātim-​nāma, Qiṣṣa-​yi Mihr-​afrūz wa Dilbar by ʿĪsawī Khān Bahādur,
Gul-​i Bakāwalī by ʿIzzat Allāh Bangālī, and Hingāma-​yi ʿIshq by ʿAndalīb’s con-
temporary Anand Rām Mukhliṣ that was written based on Padmāwat.143 In add-
ition, the work of Āzād Bilgrāmī’s grandfather, ʿAbd al-​Jalīl Bilgrāmī, known
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  55
as Mathnawī that was firstly circulated in 1731 must be considered, since it was
exactly during the period that ʿAndalīb’s thought and work were shaped.144
In analyzing ʿAndalīb’s modes of expression, his narration which was
mixed with religious debates must be considered as a continuity of the majlis-​
gūʾī (“preaching”) tradition with roots in the Khurāsānī Sufism of Abū Saʿīd
Abu al-Khayr (d. 440/​1049) and Khwāja ʿAbd Allāh Anṣārī (d. 481/​1088), also
known as Pīr-​i Harāt. Majlis-​gūʾī in the written text was a genre in Persian
prose from which famous authors like Jalāl al-​Dīn Rūmī (d. 672/​1273), Bahāʾ
Walad, Aḥmad Ghazālī and Qushayrī benefited.145 In the eighteenth-​century
context, majlis-​gūʾī in Hindi, the vernacular language, was used to propagate
specific thinking in order to construct a group of like-​minded people in the
khānaqāh as a social institution. As a mixture of genres, it must be considered
how ʿAndalīb employs narration, description, exegesis, and discussion in order
to discuss his philosophy in the guise of an imaginary world in a tangible and
understandable way. He brings up different themes in conversations and in
questions and answers between characters. Interactions between characters,
such as Sufi masters and disciples, provide him opportunities to express his
thoughts in different ways that enable the reader to follow the plot. He generally
addresses his audience as an omniscient, third-​person narrator but many stories
are related by first-​person narrators. He gives no individuality to characters,
who in fact personify specific types of people in society, some of which are
rather stereotyped. He considers particular temperaments in their personal-
ities. He names them with general titles that show different social positions,
such as king, vizier, physician, merchant and others. ʿAndalīb discloses the
intrinsic qualities of these personalities by way of numerous epithets that were
common in the Mughal era, such as the names which are listed in Table 1.3.146
Regarding ʿAndalīb’s naming of characters, it can be argued that the
names in his narration function as a part of his critical and revivalist point
of view. Some of them have very strong ethical features, like Shāh Bā Kamāl,
which shows a hidden idealism regarding the character of rulers, not only
in politics but also in the preserving of religion. Some names were inspired
by historical figures like ʿArsh Āshiyān, an epithet for Akbar (d.1014/​1605),
the Emperor of India,147 and Sipihr Shukūh, which was the name of Dārā
Shukūh’s son. Some names use astronomical aspects, like Mihr Jahāngīr, Māh
Munīr and Mushtarī, which will be interpreted in the following discussion
in relation to the Prophet and his companions. Analytically, ʿAndalīb pays
attention to the psychological side of his characters and his way of naming
based on outstanding personal characteristics was essentially depersonalizing
the characters and personifying moral qualities that lead to increasing the
degrees of accessibility of his message in the work without the limitations of
time, place and other historical factors.
ʿAndalīb elaborates detailed descriptions of every scene and situation,
as well as the physical appearance of characters, in order to capture his
audience’s imagination, and prepare their minds for accepting the message
of the narrative. Although these descriptive passages can at times be tiresome
56  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
Table 1.3 The naming of characters in the work: a list of aptonyms

ʿArsh Āshiyān A person whose nest is near the throne of God


Falak Qadr A person who is as powerful as heaven/​fortune
Sipihr Shukūh A grandeur of the heavens
Maẓhar Qadīr A manifestation of the mighty
Mihr Jahāngīr The world-​conquering sun
Bī Naẓīr A person who is a unique man
Māh Munīr A bright moon
Khushbū A person who is a fragrant man
Khushgū A person who is a good speaker
Shāh Bā Kamāl A king who is perfect
Shāh-​i Tājdār A king who possesses the crown
Shāh ʿĀrif A mystic who is a king
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq An honest merchant
Namak Ḥalāl A person who is a sincere and loyal man
Bīqayd-​i Shūrīda Ḥāl A person who is a crazy reckless impetuous man
Masīḥ Khiṣāl A healer who heals like Christ
Ḥusn Beauty
ʿIshq Love
Zargar-​i ʿAql Goldsmith who is called intellect
Ṭabʿ-​i Salīm A nature that is pure
Wāla Shāh A king who is an enamored lover
Ṣāḥib Dil A person who is a pure hearted man
Ahl-​i Dil A person who is a pious man
Maḥram-​i Rāz A person who is a confidant of a mystery
Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr A prudent emir
Tājir-​i Ghanī A rich merchant
Tājir-​i Kabīr A great merchant
Tājir-​i Faqīr A pauper merchant
Khār-​i Dil Afgār A thorn that wounds the heart
Mushtarī Jupiter
Shāh-​i Shāhān The king of kings
ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn A person who is a recluse devotee
Hamdam-​i Qāl A person who is an interlocutor
Maḥram-​i Ḥāl A person who is a confidant
Maẓhar-​i Jamāl A person who is a manifestation of beauty
Maẓhar-​i Jalāl A person who is a manifestation of glory
Ghulām-​i Khākī A slave who lives in the terrestrial sphere
Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins King of jinns and humans
Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn A sage who is skillful
Shīr Zan-​i Āhū Shikār A heroine, a brave woman (described as a lion)
who hunts a gazelle like a beloved who hunts her
lover
Buland Himam A person who is ambitious
Shāh Shaydā A king who is lovelorn
Arjumand Shāh A king with a lofty personality
Khujasta Shamīm A person who is blessed and fragrant
Fayḍ Bakhsh A person who is gracious
Fayḍ Rasān A person who spreads blessings
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  57
for the reader, they make this work an important record for accessing infor-
mation about the Mughal period. He seldom clarifies the exact historical
setting, the time and precise location in which the stories take place, though
he often refers to more general places such as India, Arabia, Rūm, Iran,
and Turan. Regarding the compositional connections between the different
parts of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and its holistic coherency, he composes a lengthy
main plot that holds the text together and gives it meaning. It is within this
plot that numerous sub-​plots grow. All of these sub-​plots have starting and
ending points and could be considered separate stories in and of themselves.
Hence, many variants can be infused into one plot. He frequently repeats a
summary of what he had previously described, thus at times causing exces-
sive verbosity.
ʿAndalīb claimed to be conveying a divine message, and inspiration would
occasionally spur him into making changes to the direction of his writing,
mentioning miscellaneous points or citing seemingly random poems. Thus,
his work is structurally complex and its organization is difficult to follow.
The manuscript of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb has a table of contents and is divided
into episodes which is a synopsis of the main plot and explains its contents.
Finally, although it has already been mentioned in the introduction that
ʿAndalīb related this work over a small number of sessions for only a few
disciples, there are no indications for how to divide the content based on
such sessions. The length of the text itself demonstrates that they were not
expounded over such a limited period and it is very likely that much of the
detail was added later.
Regarding its resources, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb abounds with numerous lines of
poetry borrowed from various poets. ʿAndalīb does add some duhās, a popular
form of poetry in Urdu, into the stories, but he mostly uses famous Persian
poems by Shams al-​Dīn Muḥammad Ḥāfiẓ (d. 792/​1390), Saʿdī Shīrāzī (d.
690/​1291), Rūmī and Bīdil Dihlawī. He also includes poems by his disciples,
Mīr Dard and Bīdār Dil, and he excelled at inserting the verses of others into
his own work (tanẓīm). ʿAndalīb certainly knows that these poems will have a
mesmerizing impact on his listeners. He claims that he was divinely inspired to
use others’ poems,148 since poetry has always been a major vehicle of expres-
sion and it could be memorized much more easily than prose so that even the
illiterate could recite them. He sincerely begs forgiveness for failing to cite
the authors of the poems he uses.149 The inclusion of these poems within the
contents of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is not mere ostentation, but rather it is intended
to enhance the meaning of the prose. The mystical and romantic themes of
these poems help to transfer the author’s feelings about union and separ-
ation and to motivate the audience to read and ponder the particular issue
at hand. Different styles of Persian poetry are used, ranging from the qaṣīda,
ghazal, mathnawī and rubāʿī, to echo verse and hemistich that demonstrate
the author’s powerful memory and his connection to the poems which were
58  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
read in poetry contests (mushāʿira) and mystical music concerts (samāʿ) that
were often accompanied with dance.
ʿAndalīb was not an exception among the Indian writers and poets of
his time in utilizing the Persian literary heritage. Khaliq Ahmad Nizami, an
Indian historical and religious scholar, mentions that the most influential
poets in the Sufi literature of India were Abū Saʿīd Abu al-Khayr, Farīd
al-​Dīn ʿAṭṭār (d. 617/​1220), Sanāʾī Ghaznawī (d. ca. 545/​1150), Aḥmad Jām
(d. 536/​1142), Fakhr al-​Dīn ʿIrāqī (d. 688/​1289), Jāmī, Ḥāfiẓ, Rūmī, and
others. He refers to popular verses which advise ideal behavior as well as to
proverbs that represent an ethical morality.150 For instance, the Indian Sufis
drew inspiration from Rūmī’s moral and ethical ideas and admired his cult of
cosmic emotion (ʿishq). In addition, ʿAṭṭār’s Manṭiq al-​ṭayr was read exten-
sively in Sufi circles.151 It seems that ʿAndalīb was familiar with most of the
Sufi literary tradition and particularly with the Ishrāqī philosophy of Shihāb
al-​Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī (d. 587/​1191). Additionally, one can trace the path
of Aḥmad Sirhindī’s criticism of Pantheism in ʿAndalīb’s chef d’oeuvre, but
like Sirhindī’s Maktūbāt, ʿAndalīb’s work is not free from Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s
thought.

Value in the Eyes of ʿAndalīb, His Successors and Modern Academia


ʿAndalīb has absolute confidence in the extreme value of his work. He
believes that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb can function as a shaykh,152 taking the place
of the master (pīr) since it is a mystically-​inspired book (mulham). For him,
reading it is particularly necessary in the absence of reliable and pious spir-
itual guidance.153 The claim of it having been composed by a God-​initiated
author assures the audience that, as a spiritually perfected individual, his
text is divinely inspired and he is not in danger of misleading his audi-
ence.154 In the Mughal period, books of omens (fālnāma) were very popular
for predicting the future. Accordingly, ʿAndalīb recommends his work for
use in prognostication (tafaʿul) because of its capacity to foretell the future
through divine guidance.155 In the last pages of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, ʿAndalīb
explains a specific set of divinatory instructions: first, one should read sūrat
al-​Fātiḥa156 and pray for the Prophet, his descendants, his companions and
all Muslims. Keeping an intention in one’s heart while concentrating on the
question at hand, one should then open the book to a random page where the
answer to one’s concern can then be found. If no answer can be discerned,
then one should repeat the process once more. If after this third time, there
is still no answer to be found, this signifies that it is in one’s best interest to
remain ignorant of the answer. The reader is cautioned against attempting
the procedure more than the prescribed number of times, as that might bring
misfortune.157
Mīr Dard also explains that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb can be used in prognosti-
cation, since it has a divine quality and its contents are the tongue of the
unseen (lisān al-​ghayb). It is described as an excellent book (taṣnīf–​i bartar
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  59
az taʿrīf),158 as ʿAndalīb constantly imbues his presence within the text. He
is observer (nāẓir) and helper (nāṣir) and his book is his guidance which is
full of blessings. Mīr Dard feels no need to study the famous books in mysti-
cism because Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is a comprehensive work in comparison with
the most significant sources of Islamic mysticism. In this regard, he refers to
such major classical Sufi texts as the ʿAwārif al-​ma‘ārif of Shahāb al-​Dīn Abū
Ḥafṣ ʿUmar Suhrawardī (d. 632/​1234) and Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Fuṣuṣ al-​ḥikam and
Futūḥāt al-​makkiyya. He states in a Persian quatrain poem (rubāʿī):

I read neither ʿAwārif, nor Futūḥāt and Fuṣūṣ Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is


enough for my pain.
Al-​Ḥaqq made me a sincere Muḥammadī
There is nothing in me but sincerity159

Mīr Dard also includes this poem in Risāla-​yi dard-​i dil and declares that a
word that he repeats many times is “Yā Nāṣir!” Since all his words and states
conform to Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, he calls himself the speaking book (kitāb-​i nāṭiq)
of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya. He emphasizes, “my systematized knowledge
(maʿārif-​i dastgāhī) is not reading the ʿAwārif and my knowledge of the real-
ities is not for Fuṣūṣ and Futūḥāt [… .].”160 For him, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is the
source for understanding the secrets and principles of his fathers’ ṭarīqa.161
Therefore, he deeply explores his father’s masterpiece, and wrote ʿIlm al-​kitāb
as a detailed account and interpretation thereof.162
To be sure, Mīr Dard was not the only person among ʿAndalīb’s family
who was familiar with and inspired by Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. According to Firāq,
one of ʿAndalīb’s descendants, up to many years after ʿAndalīb’s death his
family read Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb to their children until they reached adulthood
and could understand the hidden meanings themselves.163 Among ʿAndalīb’s
disciples, Hidāyat states: “His Excellency [ʿAndalīb], the nightingale (ʿandalīb)
of the rose garden (gulshan) of truths and knowledge is a person whose lam-
entation (nāla) shows pain (dard) and results (athar). Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is a
fluent text from which the waves of truths are disclosed.”164
The high value of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, as well as its influence, was also
acknowledged by Madrāsī, the author of its epilogue. He elaborates on the
spiritual changes one undergoes by reading the work and asserts that its sheer
volume demonstrates its comprehensiveness. He also declares that it is spir-
itually beneficial for both the people of intuition and the people of argument.
The spiritual changes he describes the reader as undergoing are waking up
from neglectful sleep, giving up all that is not the divine, slaying the inner
devil’s soul and, finally, obtaining spiritual intoxication.165 He considers com-
paring Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb with the narrative of One Thousand and One Nights
(Hizār wa yik shab) as erroneous, since the narratives found in the latter are
worldly stories, while Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is not an entertaining storybook but a
work that evokes spiritual inspiration and thought and contains subtle mys-
tical insights.166
60  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
Modern scholarship has paid some attention to Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb in studies
of eighteenth-​century India due to the importance of ʿAndalīb’s son, Mīr
Dard, in the context of Islamic reform during that century. As mentioned
above, one of the first twentieth-​century scholars to be attracted to ʿAndalīb
was Annemarie Schimmel, who believes that “the modern reader will find, in its
sweet style tinged with melancholia, a strange reflection of the vicissitudes of
time under which Delhi and its unlucky inhabitants smarted in those years.”167
Itzchak Weismann, who studies modern Islam and notes the interrelations
between Sufism and fundamentalist and radical movements, considers Nāla-​
yi ʿAndalīb to be a “founding document of the Muhammadan movement.” He
observes that the collected lectures replied to questions posed by people from
different groups, such as the ʿulamāʾ, Sufis, philosophers, Hindus and Yogis,
with the aim of reviving the pure state of Islam as it had existed in the time
of the Prophet.168 Muzaffar Alam, a scholar on Mughal political history and
the history of Indo-​Islamic culture, states that the stories (dāstāns) in Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb “revolve around the exploits of a prince and read like an imagined
construction of the process of the making of Mughal political culture.” He
draws attention to the reason that ʿAndalīb expounded this narrative on the
occasion of mourning the death of his master, that is to represent his point
of view concerning the political circumstances and the cultural conditions.
Muzaffar Alam also poses the question of why ʿAndalīb established “a new
Sufi order distinct from the Naqshbandī Mujaddidīs.”169

Relationship between Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā


To open the discussion about Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā and Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, it
should be noted that the former was composed chronologically after the latter.
Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā (“Treatise on the Sublimation of the Mind” or “Treatise on
Higher Consciousness”) is a little-​known manuscript, composed in 1156/​1743,
that has never been printed in lithographic form. The available manuscript
was transcribed in 1210/​1795170 and exists at the Punjab University Library in
110 folios, see Figures 1.3 and 1.4. Its handwriting is in shikasta style,which
is difficult to decipher.171 The work has some value for gaining information
about ʿAndalīb’s personal life. Nevertheless, this information is limited, des-
pite some scholars such as Munzawī, the Iranian codicologist, introducing it
as a resource him two sons, Khushbū information on ʿAndalīb’s life, family,
disciples and specifically about his Sufi master, Muḥammad Zubayr.172 Mīr
Dard, however, never mentions the title Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā in any of his
works, although Firāq does refer to it in Maykhāna-​yi dard.173 ʿAndalīb, who
was striving to revive religiosity at a time when chess was hugely popular and
chess symbolism was common in both Persian and Urdu poetry, benefited
from terminology derived from chess and invented a similar game of his own
through which players could acquire Islamic knowledge. Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā
includes the instructions for this new game. ʿAndalīb offers the reasoning
behind why he created this game as follows:
newgenrtpdf
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  61
Figure 1.3 The first folio of Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, no. Ph III 96, by kind permission of the Punjab University
Library of Lahore.
62  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works

Figure 1.4 The colophon of Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, which gives the date of completion of
this transcription by Mīr Nāṣir Ṣāḥib in 1210/​1795, no. Ph III 96, by kind
permission of the Punjab University Library of Lahore.

I have heard that many of my friends and children occupy themselves


with losing the game of chess. Simultaneously due to friendship and com-
passion, I have advised and prevented [them] from that [game] which is
contrary to sharīʿa. I have begged them with much importunity to listen
and read Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. But some of them, who were not familiar
with the word and meaning [of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb], enjoyed the words and
expressions [rather than their deeper spiritual meaning] and they failed to
stop playing the game. That situation caused my annoyance. In my eyes
that bitter game was like wine, I sprinkle salt on their play because [I am]
a rebellious-​tempered [person…] namely, I innovated a game against it
and called it hūsh afzā.174

From the above passage, he distinguishes between the intended audience for
Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā and that for Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, since the Risāla was under-
standable by all people in the different stages of life and its audience consisted
of playful pupils (yārān-​i bāzīgūsh) lacking any attention to profound religious
issues, the divine knowledge and mystical principles. Extending the circle of
his audience demonstrates how the author’s attention expanded to include the
majority of the Muslim community, who were common people. Its themes
capture the audience’s interest with simpler topics and the text prepares
audiences for reading the higher meaning in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. Consequently,
ʿAndalīb avoided explaining the contents of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb in this treatise
and he directs those who yearn for insightful knowledge, to refer to Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb.175 However, he underscores the connection of his work’s contents
with their origin in Islamic teachings and thought, such as by mentioning 99
names for his treatise, a reference to the 99 divine names. Such references per-
meate the contents of his work, along with descriptions of what it is intended
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  63
to achieve, such as sublimation of the mind (hūsh afzā), stealing one’s intellect
(ʿaql rubā) and wiping off one’s gloom (gham zudā).176
Also of note, there was a gap in time between ʿAndalīb’s inventing the
game hūsh afzā and his composing a treatise to explain it. This is attested to
by places in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb where he refers to his own new game and turns
attention toward alternative games invented by Sufis and wise men. Prior to
Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, ʿAndalīb already applies several technical terms from
chess in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb,177 the contents of which also reveal the roots of
his negative attitude towards chess and his bitter critical point of view about
his contemporaries. For him, chess was a distraction from religious practices
and he believed that those who play it are stupid men, children, and neglectful
women. Thus, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā enhances a popular form of entertainment
by transforming it into a means for acquiring knowledge through analogies
from chess imagery used to explain personal life in various circumstances,
such as in war and peace. The instructional text focuses on the player/​reader’s
various concerns regarding achieving goals or failing to do so, performing
good acts as well as evil ones and other issues like oppression and justice.
Furthermore, as far as religious subjects are concerned, the work provides
answers to religious doubts and offers insight into theological questions, such
as fatalism versus free will. More can also be found about the Wujūdī and
Shuhūdī dichotomy among Sufis in addition to ethical matters. The intended
purpose is that from reading the book, the reader will not only obtain mastery
of the game, but it will also open the eyes of intelligence and the player will
become impressively knowledgeable.178 But to close the present section, two
verses from Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā must be cited in which ʿAndalīb explains the
essence of his work, its target audience, purpose and value.

It is not a game; it is the mirror of the soul,


It increases the intelligence of each pauper and king.
You try to be a perfect man by obtaining worldly perfections,
Yet without knowing yourself, how valuable is your knowledge?179

To conclude this section, the limited number of surviving manuscripts


implies that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb was maintained mostly among ʿAndalīb’s
family and disciples. Its stories were popularly narrated in gatherings that
might have been held in a vernacular language and even by the illiterate.
However, publishing the work in lithographed form shows that the text was
reconsidered as among the most valuable works; thus it must have attracted
the attention of subsequent generations of scholars. Since there is no suf-
ficient evidence about the value of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb among the author’s
contemporaries, this study has relied upon how ʿAndalīb perceived his own
work, what later copyists mentioned in lithographed forms of it along with
what his successors and family members thought. The scattered lithographed
books in Iran, India and Pakistan demonstrate that the text was not known
in the West until recently. It can be argued that its sheer volume had a role in
it not being published again.
64  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb synthesized different genres and applied rhetorical figures
to develop a variety of themes and subjects that constructed one of the inform-
ative encyclopedic resources of the time. The style and insertion of poems
from literary mystical Persian texts enrich the work and make connections
between the eighteenth-​ century text and earlier Sufi literature. Folkloric
adventurous epics in the main plot and its sub-​plots capture the attention
of his audience to understand the inner layer of the story. The detailed
discussions in the redacted text mean that the book must be categorized into
different topics of not only Sufism, but also theology, jurisprudence as well
as other non-​Islamic subjects which were popular topics debated in the intel-
lectual circles of the time. The analysis that follows uses the different factors
of the narrative represented in this section, such as characterization, naming,
time, location, and language in order to shift our focus from the surface to
the inner side. Before that, however, the importance of the outer facets of
ʿAndalīb’s narration must be understood, since the inner components are not
separated from the apparent love story, and its imaginary world must be seen
in light of social and religious circumstances.

Notes
1 See Mawlawī Muḥammad Muẓaffar Ḥusayn Ṣabā, Tadhkira-​yi rūz-​i rawshan
(Tehran: Rāzī, 1343 Sh./​1964), p. 586.
2 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb (Delhi: Maṭbaʿa-​yi Anṣārī, 1308/​1890), p. 84.
3 Ibid., p. 84. Khwājazādagān is the plural for Khwājazāda. The Naqshbandī studies
historian, Hamid Algar, refers to many sub orders were derived from the Khwājagān
like the Naqshbandiyya, the Yasawiyya. See Hamid Algar, “The Naqshbandī
Order: A Preliminary Survey of Its History and Significance,” Studia Islamica,
no. 44 (1976): p. 131. The first of the khwājagān were Abū Yaʿqūb Yūsuf Hamadānī
(d. 535/​1140) and ʿAbd al-​Khāliq al-​Ghujduwānī (d. 574/​1179). See Trimingham,
The Sufi Orders in Islam, p. 14. For other studies on the role of the Khwājagān
in the history of Sufism, see Devin A. DeWeese, “Khojagani Origins and the
Critique of Sufism: The Rhetoric of Communal Uniqueness in the Manaqib of
Khoja ʿAli ʿAzizan Ramitani,” in Islamic Mysticism Contested: Thirteen Centuries
of Controversies and Polemics, ed. F. de Jong & B. Radtke (Leiden: Brill, 1999),
pp. 492–​519; ibid., “The Mashaikh i-​Turk and the Khojagan: Rethinking the
Link between the Yasavi and the Naqshbandi Sufi Tradition,” Journal of Islamic
Studies 7, no. 2 (1996): pp. 180–​207.
4 Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār-​i Khwāja Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb,” Qand-​i
pārsī, no. 22 (1382 Sh. /​2003), p. 173.
5 Malik refers to the Naqshbandīs as an “aristocratic religious lineage,” since they
enjoyed benefits from Mughal emperors’ policies in politics and religion. See
Malik, Islam in South Asia, p. 159.
6 John F. Richards, The Mughal Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1993), p. 153; Burton Stein, A History of India (Oxford: Blackwell, 1998), p. 179;
Malik, Islam in South Asia, p. 208; M. Athar Ali, The Mughal Nobility Under
Aurangzeb (Aligarh: Asia Publishing House, 1966), pp. 96–​97.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  65
7 Muḥammad
‌ Nāṣir ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, Library of Punjab University,
Lahore, no. Ph III 96, 1786, fls. 96a–​96b.
8 They were Khwāja Muḥammad Ṣāliḥ and Khwāja Muḥammad Yaʿqūb. See
Mustaʿid Khān, Maʾāthir-​i ʿĀlamgīrī, trans. Sir Jadu Nath Satkar (Lahore: Suhail
Academy, 1981), p. 73. Prince Murād Bakhsh was Aurangzeb’s younger brother.
He was governor of Gujarat and Malwa. When Aurangzeb became the emperor,
Murād Bakhsh was imprisoned. Murād Bakhsh’s supporters could not rescue him
and he was executed in 1661. See Richards, The Mughal Empire, p. 162.
9 Regarding wars as well as assassinations among opponents in the Mughal court,
see J.F. Mehta, Advanced Study in the History of Modern India 1707–​1818 (New
Delhi: New Down Press Group, 2005), p. 7.
1‌ 0 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 96a.
11 Mīr Athar, Mathnawī, quoted in Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār,” p. 173.
12 Percival Spear (ed.), The Oxford History of India (Oxford: The Clarendon Press,
1958), p. 433. Sidney J. Owen, The Fall of the Mogul Empire (London: Murray,
1912), p. 129. With Bahādur Shāh’s death in 1123/​1712, kingmakers established a
new period of leadership. See Mehta, Advanced Study in the History of Modern
India, p. 9; Rizvi, Shāh Walī-​Allāh, p. 120.
13 Richards, The Mughal Empire, pp. 262–​263.
14 Here, Sayyid brothers refers to Ḥusayn ʿAlī Khān Bārha (d. 1132/​1720) and Ḥasan
ʿAlī Khān Bārha (d. 1135/​1722). They were from a prominent family known as
Sādāt-​i Bārha, who lived in Muẓaffar nagar, a district in what is now Pakistan. See
“Bārha Sayyids,” EI2.
15 At that time, Shiʿa and Hindustani Muslims gained increased authority in pol-
itics and Delhi was occupied with their advocates. See Owen, The Fall of the
Mogul Empire, p. 115. For more on their role during the reign of Farrukh Siar, see
pp. 135–​153.
16 Nawwāb Ẓafar Allāh Khān was known as Rawshan al-​Dawla. See Muḥammad
Nāṣir ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 906.
17 Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 33. The Chishtiyya in India has two famous
branches: the Niẓāmiyya, followers of Niẓām al-​Dīn Awliyāʾ, and the Ṣābiriyya,
followers of Shaykh ʿAlī Ṣābir. One of the prominent figures among Ṣābiriyy is
ʿAbd al-​Quddūs Gunguhī. The variety of relationships between Ṣābirī shaykhs
and the Mughal court are remarkable from friendship with Akbar and his respect
for Shaykh Jalāl al-​Dīn Fārūqī to the hostility of Jahāngīr towards Shaykh Niẓām
al-​Dīn Fārūqī. See “Čis̲h̲tiyya,” EI2.
1‌ 8 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 96b; ibid., Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 906; Khwāja
Sayyid Muḥammad Mīr Athar, Dīwān-​i Mīr Athar (Delhi: Martaba-​yi Faḍl Ḥaqq,
1978), pp. 276–​278 quoted in Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār,” p. 181.
19 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 137.
20 Owen, The Fall of the Mogul Empire, p. 180. Ḥusayn ʿAlī Khān was murdered in
1132/​1720, and Ḥasan ʿAlī Khān was killed in 1135/​1722. See Shaharyar M. Khan,
The Begums of Bhopal: A History of the Princely State of Bhopal (New York: I.B.
Tauris, 2000), p. 18.
21 The long conflict bothered Niẓām al-​Mulk and he left the court in 1724. See
one of the early writings on India entitled Invasion of India from Central Asia
(London: Richard Bentley and son, 1879), p. 161. For more information see
“Niẓām al-​Mulk,” EI2.
66  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
22 “Nāder Shah,” EIr.
23 William Irvine, Later Mughals (Calcutta: M.C. Sarkar and Sons, 1922), vol. 2,
p. 367. Irvine notes when the rumor spread that Nādir Shāh had been assassinated,
Delhi’s inhabitants attacked his troops, according to ʿAlī Ḥazīn (d. 1179/​1766), the
Persian scholar and poet. Nādir Shāh ordered that vengeance be taken. Astarābādī
reports that houses were looted and men were killed while women were dragged
into slavery. The invading forces set fire to many houses and several Hindus and
Muslims alike were burned together. See Astarābādī’s work as a primary source.
Mīrzā Mahdī Khān Astarābādī, Tārīkh-​i jahāngushā-​yi Nādirī, ed. ʿAbd Allāh,
Anwār (Tehran: Anjuman-​i Āthār-​i Millī, 1341/​1962), pp. 327–​358.
24 Irvine, Later Mughals, vol. 2, pp. 368–​370. Muhammad Shāh was restored to
his position, but he remained under Nādir Shāh’s distant control. S.M. Ikram
believes that Muḥammad Shāh was unsuccessful in gaining recognition for his
government. According to contemporary accounts, “the emperor and nobles
turned to the management of state affairs and gave up all sorts of uncanonical
practices,” but this phase was short-​lived. The successor to Muḥammad Shāh was
Aḥmad Shāh (r. 1161/​1748–​1167/​1754), and after him, ʿĀlamgīr II (r.1167/​1754–​
1173/​1759) became the emperor. During his reign, Aḥmad Shāh Abdālī invaded
and captured Delhi in 1169/​1756. Shāh Jahān III (r. 1173/​1759–​1174/​1760) is
known to have fought against the British East India Company during the Battle
of Buxar. Disgraced by the Marathas, insulted by Afghans and blinded by the
Rohillas, he passed his last days at the mercy of the East India Company. See
S.M. Ikram, Muslim Civilization in India (New York: Columbia University Press,
1964), www.colum​bia.edu/​itc/​mea​lac/​pritch​ett/​00isl​amli​nks/​ikram/​ (accessed 7
November, 2014).
25 Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār,” p. 178.
26 Schimmel says ʿAndalīb turned down the offer for shelter from Mihr Parwar
Begum, Aurangzeb’s daughter-​ in-​
law, but later his family accepted it. See
Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 43; Ishrat Haque believes that his family accepted
the offer as a “madad-​i mash grant.” See Ishrat Haque, Glimpse of Mughal Society
and Culture (New Delhi: Concept Publishing Company, 1992), pp. 43. Regarding
the aid from a member of the royal family, Hussain Ahmad Khan writes that
“the Mughals patronized Sufis in a number of ways, which involved milk or awqaf
(land grants), inams or madad-​i-​mash (grant of revenue of particular villages) and
wazifah or stipend in the form of cash from the treasury.” See Hussain Ahmad
Khan, Artisans, Sufis, Shrines: Colonial Architecture in Nineteenth-​Century Punjab
(London: I.B. Tauris, 2015), p. 29. They lived in the suburb of Shāhjahānābād,
Old Delhi, consisting of far less urban environs. The suburbs of the city were
very popular places for many noble families and religious men to reside. Narayani
Gupta, Delhi between Two Empires 1803–​1931: Society, Government and Urban
Growth (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 2; see Schimmel, Pain and
Grace, p. 37.
27 Mīr Dard, Chahār risāla (Bhopal: Maṭbaʿa-​yi Shāhjahānī, 1310/​1893), p. 181.
28 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 906. See Ghulām Muṣḥafī Hamadānī,
Tadhkira-​yi Hindi (Delhi: Anjuman-​i Taraqi Urdu-​yi Hind, 1933), p. 92.
29 In the terminology of Sufism, ʿuwaysī Sufis took their name from ʿUways al-​
Qaranī (d. 37/​657), one of the earliest martyrs and a model of piety in Islam. It is
believed that ʿUways gained divine knowledge directly from the Prophet, whom he
never actually met. There are still debates about his mysterious personality. Faruqi
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  67
mentions that Mālik b. Anas (d. 179/​795) was the first person who “heard of
Uways and posed the question about his existence.” See Burhan Ahmad Faruqi,
The Mujaddid’s Conception of Tawhid (Aligarh: Lulu.com, 2010), p. 25. Later,
ʿuwaysī status was attributed to those who follow a shaykh without meeting him or
are initiated by the powerful spirit of a dead shaykh. In this point of view, a phys-
ical disciple-​master relationship is not necessary. The Naqshbandī lineage includes
ʿuwaysī connections, viz., between Bāyazīd Bisṭāmī (d. 261/​874) and Abū al-​Ḥasan
Kharaqānī (d. 425/​ 1033) and ʿAbd al-​Khāliq Ghijduwānī (d. 617/​ 1179) and
Bahāʾ al-​Dīn Naqshband. In this regard, John Renard writes that Bahāʾ al-​Dīn
Naqshband was “an Uwaysī by virtue of a ‘spirit initiation’ that he experienced
in a vision.” See Renard, The A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Bahā’ al-​Dīn Naqshband.”
The initiation of ʿuwaysī Sufis may be through a vision of the Prophet, how-
ever, among Shiʿi Sufis the Sufi could meet imams in the vision. Based on this
belief, in Iranian Sufism in the eighteenth century, some Sufis are called imam
Ḥusayn ʿuwaysīs. “Uwaysiyya,” CGIE. For more information concerning ʿuwaysī
Sufis, see A. S. Husaini, “Uwais al-​Qarani and Uwaisi Sufis,” Muslim World 57,
no. 2 (1967): pp. 103–​113; Julian Baldick, Imaginary Muslims: The Uwaysi Sufis of
Central Asia (London: I.B. Tauris, 1993).
30 Nāṣir Nadhīr Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard (Delhi: n.p., 1925), p. 26.
31 “Uwaysiyya,” CGIE.
32 There are still debates about mysterious personality of ʿUways al-​Qaranī. Faruqi
mentions that Mālik b. Anas (d. 179/​795) was the first person who “heard of
Uways and posed the question about his existence.” See Faruqi, The Mujaddid’s
Conception of Tawhid, p. 25.
33 In this regard, John Renard writes that Bahāʾ al-​Dīn Naqshband was “an Uwaysī
by virtue of a ‘spirit initiation’ that he experienced in a vision.” See Renard, The
A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Bahā’ al-​Dīn Naqshband.”
34 ʿIlm al-​ladunnī stands opposite to acquired science (ʿilm al-​kasbī), or formal theor-
etical knowledge. See Ibid., Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 2a. See fl. 94b.
35 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 85.
36 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard, p. 23.
37 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 905.
38 Bindrāban Dās Khushgū, Safīna-​yi Hindī, ed. Shāh Muḥammad ʿAṭā Raḥmān
(Patna: Institute of Post Graduate Studies and Research in Arabic and Persian,
1959), p. 168.
39 Chander Shekhar, Shama Mitra Chenoy, introduction to Dargah Quli Khan,
Muraqqaʿ-​e Dehli: The Mughal Capital in Muhammad Shah’s Time, trans. Chander
Shekhar, Shama Mitra Chenoy (Delhi: Deputy Publication, 1989), p. xxxii.
40 Annemarie Schimmel, The Empire of the Great Mughals: History, Art and
Culture, trans. Corine Attwood (London: Reaktion Books Ltd., 2004), p. 207.
41 Khushgū, Safīna-​yi Hindī, vol.2, p. 598.
42 To compare ʿAndalīb with his contemporaries’ various approaches to the issue of
samāʿ and music, while Shāh Walī Allāh rejected music in samāʿ, Mīrzā Maẓhar
Jān-​i Jānān was cautious in his response to the question of samāʿ and says that it is
disapproved for those for whom it creates impiety and discord, while it is lawful for
another group who finds it helpful for ecstasy. See Qadri, Muslim-​Mystic Trends in
India during the Eighteenth Century, p. 185.
43 Shāyasta Khānum, “Taṣḥīḥ, tadwīn, taḥshiyya-​yi chirāgh-​i hidāyat-​i Hidāyat Alllāh
Khān” (Master diss., Punjab University, 1999–​2001), p. 58.
68  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
44 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 96b. Also ʿAndalīb mentions the name of his
masters in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 2.
45 Amīr Khusraw Dihlawī was known in Persian poetry as the parrot of India. He
was a disciple of Niẓām al-​Dīn Awliyāʾ, a great Chishtī master. He was a Sufi
musician that dedicated a part of his work entitled Iʿjāz-​i khuwsrawī in Persian.
In Persian literature, he was a follower of Niẓāmī Ganjawī and composed his
works: Khamsa, Shīrīn wa Khusraw, Majnūn wa Liylī, under his influence. See
“Dihlawī, Amīr Khusraw,” CGIE. See al-​Smarqandī, Tadhkirat al-​shuʿarā, ed.
Edward Browne (Leiden: Brill, 1318 /​1900), p. 238.
46 Shaykh ʿAbd al-​Aḥad Sirhindī composed a collection of poetry entitled Chahār
risāla as well as Shawāhid al-​tajdīd. See Khushgū, Safīna-​yi Hindī, p. 598; ʿAlī
Ibrāhīm Khān Khalīl, Ṣuḥuf-​i Ibrāhīm, ed. ʿĀbid Riḍā Bīdār (Patna: Khuda Bakhsh
Library, 1978), p. 122; Ghulām Sarwar Lāhūrī, Khazīnat al-​Aṣfiyāʾ (Herat: Anṣārī
Kutubkhāna, n.d.), vol.1, p. 662.
47 The words ʿandalīb, gul and gulshan are murāʿāt al-​naẓīr, rhetorical device in
Persian wherein the mention of either gul or gulshan is intended to evoke the other
in the audience’s minds.
48 Rizvi, History of Sufism, vol. 2, p. 244. See also “Golšan Dehlavi, Shah Saʿd-​
Allāh,” EIr.
49 Khushgū, Safīna-​yi Hindī, p. 167; Mīr Qudrat Allāh,ʿAbd al-​Qāsim, Majmūʿa-​
yi Naghz, vol. 1, pp. 72–​73 quoted in Umar, Islam in Northern India during the
Eighteenth Century (Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publisher Pvt. Ltd., 1993), fn.
420, p. 150.
50 Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 18. From Gulshan’s contemporaries or those who
were under his influence the name of many Sufis and poets could be mentioned
such as Mīr Muḥammad Aḥsan Ījād (d. 1133/​1720), Furṣat Kashmīrī (d. 1138/​
1725), Mawlawī Muḥammad Mīrān Farḥat Kashmīrī (d. 1138/​1725), Shaykh
Muḥammad ʿAlī Rawāj (d. 1140/​1727), Khwāja Muḥammad Yūsuf Maymanat
(d. 1140/​1727), Mīrzā Abū Turāb Ghubār (d. 1149/​1737), Niẓām Khān Muʿjiz
(d. 1162/​1748). See Hadi, s.v. “Fūrsat”; “Farḥat, Maulawi Muhammad Miran”;
“Ījād, Mīr Muhammad Ahsan”; “Maimanat Khān, Khwāja Muhammad Yūsūf ”;
“Mūʿjiz, Niẓām Khān”; “Ghūbār, Mīrzā Abū Tūrāb.”
51 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard, p. 34.
52 Guide in the spiritual path (pīr in Persian and shaykh in Arabic) could have
various relationships with the disciple. Therefore, the title of pīr-​i ṣuḥbat is one of
the titles that are used to refer to a specific type of relationship between masters
and disciples. “Pīr,” CGIE.
53 Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p.35; see Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard, p. 34.
54 Khushgū, Safīna-​yi Hindi, vol.2, p. 598. Gulshan was buried in Aḥmadipurā ceme-
tery. See “Golšan Dehlavi, Shah Saʿd-​Allāh,”EIr.
55 “Bīdel, ʿAbd-​al-​Qāder,” EIr.
56 Stefano Pellò, “Persian as a Passe-​Partout: The Case of Mirza ʿAbd al-​Qadir
Bidil and his Hindu Disciples,” Culture and Circulation: Literature in Motion in
Early Modern South Asia, ed. Thomas de Bruijn und Allison Busch (Leiden and
Boston, MA: Brill, 2014), p. 21.
57 See “Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī,” EI3.
58 See John A. Subhan, Sufism: Its Saints and Shrines (Lucknow: Lucknow Publishing
House, 1938), pp. 285–​287.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  69
59 In order to join a ṭarīqa, disciples must pledge to obey a shaykh (pīr) by an oath of
allegiance (bayʿat). This shaykh is called the “shaykh of allegiance” (pīr-​i bayʿat),
who guides disciples on the path.
60 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 3; vol. 2, p. 906.
61 Iḥsān, Rawḍat al-​qayyūmiyya, Private Library of Pīr Maṭlūb al-​Rasūl, Lillāh,
1883, part 4, fls. 338, 349.
62 Ibid., fl. 206.
63 Ibid., fl. 152.
64 Ibid., fls. 179–​180.
65 Ibid., fls. 247–​248.
66 Ibid., fl. 215.
67 Ibid., fls. 282–​286.
68 Regarding the Mahdī and the status of Mujaddid, see Aḥmad Sirhindī, Maktūbāt
Imam Rabbānī, ed. Ḥasan Zāriʿī and Ayūb Ganjī (Zahedan: Ṣiddīqī, 1383 Sh./​
2005), vol. 1, pp. 497, 538.
69 See “Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq,”EIr.
70 ʿAndalīb’s second wife of was Bakhshī Begum, also known as Manga Begum. See
Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard, pp. 30, 106.
71 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 84.
72 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 4.
73 “ʿAndalīb, Nāṣer Moḥammad,” EIr.
74 Qādir Aḥmad, Khwāja Mīr Dard aur un kā Zikr-​u Fikr (Delhi: Maktaba Shahrah
Union Press, 1962), pp. 86–​87; quoted in Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār,”
pp. 182–​183.
75 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 84.
76 Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 37; see Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār,” p. 178.
77 Shāyasta Khānum, Chirāgh-​i hidāyat-​i Hidāyat Alllāh Khān, pp. 23, 26.
78 Mīr Alam, Barātī Begum, and Zīnat al-​Nisā Begum.
79 Ibid., p. 24.
80 He was the son of Mīr Dard’s second daughter, Zīnat al-​Nisā.
81 His maternal great-​grandmother was ʿAndalīb’s great granddaughter. He was
the son of Shams al-​Nisā Begum, Umda Begum’s daughter, the latter being the
daughter of Amanī Begum who was Mīr Alam’s daughter. See Firāq, Maykhāna-​
yi dard, p. 2. Regarding Nāṣir Nadhīr Firāq Dihlawī’s fame, Rauf Parekh believes
that it can be attributed to “his portrayal of Delhi’s culture, society and history
in an elegantly idiomatic Urdu prose.” He was a disciple of Muḥammad Ḥusayn
Ᾱzād, the Urdu author in prose. See Rauf Parekh, “Nasir Nazeer Firaq: His Prose
and Delhi’s Cultural History,” in Dawn, www.dawn.com/​news/​1239​539 (accessed
February 15, 2016).
82 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi Dard, p. 156.
83 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 5. For his poems, see for example, p. 6.
84 Shāyasta Khānum, Chirāgh-​i hidāyat-​i Hidāyat Allāh Khān, pp. 25–​26.
85 She was the daughter of Emperor Aurangzeb, who was an advocate of Sufis in
Delhi. See Stephen P.Blake, Shahjahanabad: The Sovereign City in Mughal Indian
1639–​1739 (Cambridge: The Press Syndicate of the University of Cambridge,
1991), p. 53. Her master was Ashraf Mullā Muḥammad Saʿīd, the famous Sufi-​
poet of the court. See Mīr Ghulām ʿAlī Āzād Bilgrāmī, Maʾāthir al-​Kirām Tarikh-​i
Bilgram (Lahore: Dukhānī Rifāh-​i ʿĀm, 1913), p. 116.
70  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
86 This mosque was located in a strategic place along the Yamuna River and near
to the city gate (Khayrātī) and Fayḍ Bāzār. The British forces occupied the
mosque in 1857 and destroyed the tomb of princess Zīb al-​Nisā. See Schimmel,
The Empire of the Great Mughals, p. 257. Ataullah describes the mosque in
his dissertation: “The mosque consists of a prayer chamber with seven arches
and three domes. There are two large minārs and a courtyard and central tank
on the river side. There are thirteen rooms below the courtyard. It is built of
red sandstone. The domes were banded with black and white marbles.” See
Ataullah, “The City of Delhi during the Eighteenth Century: A Socio-​Cultural
Profile” (PhD diss., Aligarh Muslim University, 2008), p. 66. Mosques played
an important role in society of Shāhjahānābād. They demonstrated the power
of this Muslim empire and separated Muslim quarters from Hindu areas.
Many mosques were built throughout the city in accordance with a decree
of Shāh Jahān (d. 1068/​1658), the successor of Jahāngīr (d. 1037/​1627). See
Annemarie Schimmel, Classical Urdu Literature from the Beginning to Iqbal
(Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1975), p. 73. Malik explains that these
mosques highlighted the Islamic culture and demonstrated how the Prophet’s
teachings had dominated India. Along with mosques, the role of khānaqāhs
and the activities of Sufis in Islamizing India should be added. Among the
mosques of Delhi, Fatḥīpūr, Akbarābādī, Aurangābādī, Sirhindī and Zīnat al-​
Masājid, were all built during the period of 1650–​1728 and were each very
important for their own specific activities. For instance, Akbarābādī mosque
was a center for the Naqshbandī order. It was built by Akbarābādī Begum,
one of Shāh Jahān’s wives, in 1650. See Jamal Malik, “Islamic Institutions
and Infrastructure in Shahjahanabad,” in Eckart Ehlers and Thomas Krafft,
eds, Shahjahanabad/​Old Delhi Tradition and Colonial Change (Delhi: Manohar
Publishers and Distributors, 2003), pp. 78–​79.
87 Schimmel, Classical Urdu Literature, p. 171.
88 Sirāj al-​Dīn ʿAlī Khān Ārzū, Majmaʿ al-​Nafāʾis, ed. Mihr Nūr Muḥammad Khān
(Islamabad: Markaz-​i Taḥqiqat-​i Farsi Iran and Pakistan, 1385 Sh./​2006), vol. 2,
p. 1094.
89 Schimmel, Classical Urdu Literature, p. 178.
90 Madrāsī, epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 906.
91 Turkmān Gate is located at the southern portion of Shāhjahānābād and is near
the Ajmirī Gate, and is also not far from the Fort and Jāmiʿ Masjid. See Ataullah,
“The City of Delhi,” p. 12. It was named after Shāh Turkmān Biyābānī, a famous
holy man. The gates were mostly surrounded by the poor inhabitants. See Malik,
“Islamic Institutions,” p. 78.
92 “ʿAndalīb, Nāṣer Moḥammad,” EIr.
93 Habibeh Rahim, Holy People of the World: A Cross-​ Cultural Encyclopaedia,
edited by Phyllis G. Jestice, s.v. “Dard, Khawaja Mīr,” (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-​
CLIO, 2004).
94 Qadir Ahmad, Khwāja Mīr Dard, pp. 100–​101.
95 Shāyasta Khānum, Chirāgh-i hidāyat-i Hidāyat Allāh Khān, p. 25.
96 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-kitāb, p. 147. In Tadhkirat al-awliyāʾ, it has been cited that Abū
ʿAlī Jawzjānī, a great Sufi of the third century, said “Be a possessor of persever-
ance and not a possessor of miracles.” Farīd al-Dīn ʿAṭṭār, Tadhkirat al-awliyāʾ,
ed. Muḥammad Istiʿlāmī (Tehran: Zawwār, 1386 Sh./2007), p. 491.
97 ‘Madrāsī, epilogue of Nāla-yi ʿ? Andalīb, vol. 2, p. 906.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  71
98 Shāyasta Khānum, Chirāgh-​i hidāyat-​i Hidāyat Alllāh Khān, p. 23; Mīr Dard,
ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 495.
99 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 146.
100 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 906.
101 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 628.
102 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 664.
103 Qāḍī Aḥmad Miyān Akhtar Junagrī, Tadhkira-​yi Ahl-​i Dil, quoted in Qadir
Ahmad, Khvaja Mir Dard, p. 98. Firāq attributes Dīwān-​i ʿAndalīb as belonging
to ʿAndalīb, but he also does not present a manuscript of it in order to prove the
validity of the attribution. Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard, p. 91.
104 Sayyid Fayyāḍ Maḥmūd and Sayyid Wazīr al-​Ḥasan ʿĀbidī, Tārīkh-​i adabiyāt-​i
musalmānān-​i Hind wa Pakistan (Lahore: Punjab University Press, 1972), vol. 5,
the third part, p. 311, quoted in Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār,” p. 191.
105 The faqīr khāna and khānaqāh, also known as a ribāt, is a place for gatherings
of Sufis.
106 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 3–​4.
107 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 3; vol. 2, p. 4.
108 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 4.
109 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 3–​4.
110 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 4–​5.
111 Schimmel considers this more than mere coincidence. See Schimmel, Pain and
Grace, p. 16.
112 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 789, 882.
113 Idem, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 1b. For instance, see idem, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1,
pp. 622, 797, 808.
114 Ibid., Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 3.
115 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 446–​449, 842; vol. 2, p. 217.
116 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 583.
117 Ibid., Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 2a.
118 Idem, Khulāṣa-​yi Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, summarized by ʿAbd al-​ Ḥaqq Shahīd
Fātiḥpūrī, Library of Punjab University, Lahore, no. PC II 48, 1106, fl. 1b.
119 ʿAndalīb describes the themes as being like a strange mixture of theological,
legal and philosophical discourses in the framework of an allegorical story. See
ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 4.
120 Madrāsī, the epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 905.
121 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 4.
122 Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale, p. 47.
123 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 4.
124 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 3.
125 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 2.
126 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 7.
127 See Seyyed Hossein Nasr’s foreword to Khaliq Ahmad Nizami, Persian Influence
of the Development of Literary and Sufi Traditions in South Asia (Bethesda,
MD: The Foundation for Indian Study, 1992), p. 15.
128 Muzaffar Alam, “The Pursuit of Persian: Language in Mughal Politics,” Modern
Asian Studies, vol. 32, no. 2 (1998): p. 318.
129 Idem, “The Culture and Politics of Persian in Pre-​Colonial Hindustan,” in
Literary Cultures in History: Reconstructions from South Asia, ed. Sheldon
Pollock (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2003), p. 168.
72  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
1 30 Ibid., “The Pursuit of Persian,” p. 331.
131 See Sayyid Fayyāḍ Maḥmūd and Sayyid Wazīr al-​ Ḥasan ʿĀbidī, Tārikh-​i
adabiyyāt-​i Fārsī dar Shibh-​i Qārra (1707–​1972), trans. Maryam Nāṭiq Sharīf
(Tehran: Nashr-​i Rahnamūn, 1380 Sh./​2001), p. 17.
132 Alam, “The Culture and Politics of Persian,” p. 171.
133 “INDIA, xiv. Persian Literature in India,” EIr.
134 See Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 14.
135 As Schimmel mentions, nevertheless, several years later many Indian authors
like Mīrzā Ghālib (d. 1285/​1869), who is acclaimed as the greatest master of
Urdu, preferred Persian verse to “colorless” Urdu. See idem, “The West-​Eastern
Divan: The Influence of Persian Poetry in East and West,” in The Persian
Presence in the Islamic World, ed. Richard G. Hovannisian and Georges Sabagh
(Cambridge: Cambridge University press, 1998), p. 156.
136 See Qurʾān, 12:3.
137 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 2.
138 Madrāsī, the epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 905–​906.
139 Alam, The Language of Political Islam, p. 176. The malfūẓ is a genre in Sufi
literature, see S.H. Askari, Maktub and Malfuz Literature as a Source of Socio-​
Political History (Patna: Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library, 1981); Amina
Steinfels, “His Master’s Voice: The Genre of Malfuzat in South Asian Sufism,”
History of Religions 44, no. 1 (2004): pp. 905–906.
140 Qutbān’s (c. 1503) Mirigāwatī, to explain it as a sample in this genre, is a love
story between a prince and a doe. In an innovative paper, Aditya Behl explains
that the earliest manuscripts of this genre are written in Persian script and that
one of the  major themes found in these stories is the childless old king who
represents the poor conditions in his realm prior to the birth of his son. When a
dervish gives the king a healing fruit, the king’s child, the hero, is born and grows
up and falls in love with his beloved after only listening to her description. See
Aditya Behl, “The Magic Doe: Desire and Narrative in Hindi Sufi Romance,
circa 1503,” in India’s Islamic Traditions 711–​1750, ed. Richard M. Eaton (New
Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 180–​204.
141 Tanvir Anjum, “Vernacularization of Islam and Sufism in South Asia: A Study
of the Production of Sufi Literature in Local Languages,” Journal of the Research
Society of Pakistan 54/​1 (2017): pp. 219–​220.
142 Ibid., p. 220.
143 Pasha Muhammad Khan, “The Broken Spell: The Romance Genre in Late Mughal
India” (Ph.D., Columbia University, 2013), pp. 99–​100.
144 Abhishek Kaicker, “The Promises and Perils of Courtly Poetry: The Case of Mir
ʿAbd Al-​Jalil Bilgrami (1660–​1725) in the Late Mughal Empire,” Journal of the
Economic and Social History of the Orient 61, no. 3 (2018): p. 354.
145 See Muḥammad Ghulām-​Riḍā’ī, “Preaching and its Methods Based on
Mowlavī’s (Rūmī’s) Majālis-​e Sabʿi (Seven Meetings),” Human Sciences, no. 57
(2008): p.156.
146 Schimmel believes that this method of naming was influenced by Mughal culture
and is rooted in traditional Indian tales. See Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 45;
idem, “A Sincere Muhammadan’s Way to Salvation,” in Man and His Salvation,
ed. Eric John Sharpe, John R. Hinnells (Manchester: Manchester University
Press, 1973), p. 241, fn. 69. Schimmel, in her work Pain and Grace, p. 33, considers
that ʿAndalīb’s “heroes are well versed in all those arts which were expected from
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works  73
a gentleman in later Mughal times: such as arrow-​shooting, calligraphy, painting,
and music, until leaving military service to become ‘soldiers of God,’ fighting
the spiritual war against their lower selves.” Schimmel believes that this sort of
naming shows a mystical psychological inclination to search for the reality of
Sufism. See idem, Pain and Grace, p. 85. Schimmel, in fn. 16, refers to Merlin
Swartz’s saying that “a man’s name was viewed as participating in the very
essence of his person and, as such revealed something of the essential character
of his being. This meant, in effect, that a man’s name is bound up in the most
intimate way with the question of his identity.” See Merlin Swartz, “The Position
of Jews in Arab Lands Following the Rise of Islam,” in Reflections on the Middle
East Crisis, ed. H. Mason (Leiden: Blackwell, 1971), p. 30. See Appendix three in
which the main characters’ names with their meanings are mentioned.
147 See ʿAlī Akbar Nafīsī, Farhang-​i Nafīsī, s.v. “ʿArsh Āshiyān,” (Tehran: Kitāb
furūshī Khayyām, 1355 Sh./​1976).
148 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 4.
149 Ibid., vol.1, pp. 4–​5.
150 Nizami, Persian Influence of the Development of Literary and Sufi Traditions,
p. 36, see p. 52.
151 Ibid., pp. 41, 45.
152 “A shaykh in book form” is a term that Ziad used to describe the work as a self-​
guide. See Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale, p. 319. In her dissertation, Ziad points
out that both Dard and his father ʿAndalīb emphasized “the inspired text (taṣnīf)
as a stand-​alone source of guidance, a shaykh in book form.” She also describes
how “There is tension between Dard’s idea of the height of spiritual attainment
(achieving subsistence in the shaykh), which requires a teacher, and the idea of
the text replacing the teacher.” In their belief, only a few true masters lived in that
age. She asserts that “with the absence of righteous guidance, the transforma-
tive texts of true God-​seekers must suffice.” See Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale,
p. 319. She highlights the uwaysī characteristic of the Muḥammadan Path and
how according to Mīr Dard, the ʿIlm al-​Kitāb and Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb worked like
a guide on the path and the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya does not required a shaykh
for initiation into the path. See ibid., p. 326. The important function of books
can be recognized as a characteristic of the eighteenth century since, according
to Dallal, education was more local and many of the prominent scholars did not
travel to the Ḥaramayn to attain Islamic knowledge. See Dallal, Islam without
Europe, p.59. In that age, the importance of books instead of traveling caused the
Islamic tradition to become more regional. Ibid., p.65.
153 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 3–​4; see Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale,
p. 319.
154 ʿAndalīb emphasizes that his knowledge is given knowledge (ʿilm al-​wahbī), not
acquired (ʿilm al-​kasbī), and he is a divinely inspired mystic. See idem, Risāla-​yi
hūsh afzā, p. 94b.
155 See Schimmel, The Empire of the Great Mughals, p. 140. The most famous work
among books of omens (fālnāma) is Ḥāfiẓ’s Dīwān. For more information about
Khwāja Shams al-​Dīn Muḥammad Ḥāfiẓ Shīrāzī, a fourteenth-​century Persian
mystic and poet, see “Ḥāfiẓ,” EI2.
156 Sūrat al-​Fātiḥa is the first chapter (sūra) of the Qurʾān.
157 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 903.
158 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​Kitāb, pp. 434.
74  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Life and Works
159 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi Dard, p. 88. This content is from Mīr Dard, Dīwān-​i fārsī
(Delhi: Maṭbaʿa-​yi Anṣārī, 1891–​1892), p. 216.
160 Mīr Dard, Chahār risāla, p. 188.
161 Ibid.
162 Ibid., ʿIlm al-​Kitāb, p. 90.
163 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi Dard, p. 89, quoted in Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 47.
164 Shāyasta Khānum, Chirāgh-​i hidāyat-​i Hidāyat Alllāh Khān, p. 22. Hidāyat plays
with words in this sentence and considers the meaning of ʿAndalīb’s own name
as well as that of Gulshan, his master, Nāla, his work, Dard and Athar, his sons.
165 Madrāsī, the epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 904.
166 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 906.
167 Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 47.
168 Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya, p. 135.
169 Alam, The Language of Political Islam, pp. 176–​177.
170 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 110a.
171 Literally meaning “broken,” which is a style in Persian calligraphy. Siddiqui,
Islamic Calligraphy, p. 18.
172 See Aḥmad Munzawī, Fihrist-​i mushtarak-​i nuskha-​hā-​yi khaṭṭī-​yi Pākistān
(Islamabad: Markaz-​i taḥqīqāt-​i Fāsī Iran wa Pakistan, 1986), vol. 3, p. 2055.
173 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard, p. 91.
174 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 2b.
175 Ibid., fl. 76b.
176 Ibid., fl. 108a.
177 See, for instance, ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol.1, p. 526.
178 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 261.
179 Ibid., p. 262.

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Khan, Pasha Muhammad. “The Broken Spell: The Romance Genre in Late Mughal
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2 Narratives
Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s
Mystical World

Synopsis of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb


A brief description of the structure, or more precisely, the main events and
core conflicts of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is helpful for gaining a better understanding
of the apparent surface level of the work. Such understanding provides a basis
for the remainder of the present book and offers clues for perceiving the deeper
hidden layers, as we later explore ʿAndalīb’s program of reconstructing the
Muslim community and his renewal of Islam from the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī
perspective. Since the work includes a plurality of characters and events, two
appendices are given at the end of this book (Appendix 1: Summarized Table
of Contents of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, Appendix 2: Detailed Table of Contents
of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb) in order to better elucidate the thematic significance,
coherence and organization of ʿAndalīb’s narration and its characters.
Interpretation of the narrative will be reserved for later sections in which
the connection between the plot of the story and its hidden meanings will
be analyzed in light of its historical and cultural context. Nevertheless, in
some parts of this synopsis, writing about the deeper meaning of the text
was unavoidable, particularly with regard to the second volume of Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb.

Reign of ʿArsh Āshiyān (Mihr Jahāngīr’s Grandfather)


The work includes a short preface wherein ʿAndalīb briefly introduces him-
self, his shaykhs and the text itself. While doing so, he also gives an inter-
pretation of his own pseudonym and explains his motives for writing Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb, along with discussing the scope of the work, its various subjects and
its main opinions. He also extols the value of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and reports
the impression this work made on his addressees. This introductory part
concludes with some Persian verses describing the work and recording the
date of its completion. After that, ʿAndalīb commences with the actual story,
the protagonist of which is Mihr Jahāngīr, whose ancestors were kings with
a dominion encompassing both Rūm and Arabia. The narrative begins with
Mihr Jahāngīr’s grandfather, ʿArsh Āshiyān, who was a neglectful king whose

DOI: 10.4324/9781003228899-3
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  79
territory had been plunged into chaos. One day, as the king was returning to
his castle after hunting, which was his favorite pastime, he met an inconsol-
able woman who was wailing over the corpse of her slain son. She lamented
terribly over how the marauders and plunderers brutally slaughtered many
innocent people, all having met the same fate as her son. The king was deeply
moved by her words and shortly thereafter he brought order to the terri-
tory, extending security and justice everywhere. Years later, the unavoidable
symptoms of old age began to show on the king’s body, which were the signs
of his impending death, and thus the king decided to prepare himself for
death and the afterlife. He beseeched his sons, Falak Qadr and Sipihr Shukūh,
to remain united forever, since it would be difficult for them to resist their
enemies without unity, but if they are united, no one can underestimate or
harm them. Then, he divided his kingdom between his sons, with Falak Qadr
becoming the King of Iraq and Arabia while Sipihr Shukūh became the King
of Rūm.1

Reign of King Falak Qadr (Mihr Jahāngīr’s Father),


Mihr Jahāngīr’s Birth and Childhood
The protagonist’s father, the King of Iraq and Arabia, Falak Qadr, was deeply
upset over having had no child. Thus his vizier sought out Sufis in order to
ask them to pray that the king would obtain his heart’s desire. In Mecca, the
vizier was initiated into the Sufi circle of Maẓhar Qadīr, who had miraculous
powers (karāmat). After a short time, he became an elect disciple of the der-
vish, who one day asked the vizier to wish for something. The vizier dutifully
wished that the king might have a child, so the dervish then asked the vizier
to pick a fruit off a tree, and the latter chose a pomegranate. The dervish
predicted that after eating this pomegranate, the king would be healed and
able to father a child, thus foretelling of the birth of the king’s son, Mihr
Jahāngīr. The dervish additionally prophesied of the birth of another son, Bī
Naẓīr, from the remainder of the pomegranate. Afterwards, the dervish asked
the vizier to pick another fruit for himself because he had no child either. This
time, the vizier picked an apple. The dervish blessed it and predicted the birth
of the vizier’s son, Māh Munīr, who would become Mihr Jahāngīr’s vizier.
The dervish advised the vizier to teach these children the disciplines of the
Muḥammadiyya path that he had learned from him. When Mihr Jahāngīr was
born, Falak Qadr celebrated his birth magnificently. The king’s brother, Sipihr
Shukūh, who was also without child, ate the rest of the pomegranate and when
his son was born, he named him Bī Naẓīr, as the dervish had recommended.

Mihr Jahāngīr in the Love-​Increasing Garden


One day, after a hunting expedition, while Prince Mihr Jahāngīr was tired and
returning to the court, he came across the Love-​Increasing Garden (Bāgh-​i
ʿIshq Afzā). When the gardeners met him, they began to praise and compliment
80  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
him lavishly. They exclaimed that “In the whole world only one person could
equal the prince in beauty and excellence, that person is the daughter of an
ascetic (zāhid) and she lives in a cave in the Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain
(Kūh-​i Hūsh Rubā).”2 As soon as Mihr Jahāngīr heard merely a description of
this girl, he fell in love with her and yearned to visit her. Then suddenly, she
came into the garden with her father, the ascetic. During this first meeting,
as Mihr Jahāngīr saw the ascetic’s daughter, he sighed deeply, swooning over
her beauty to the extent that he lost consciousness. The ascetic’s daughter
heard his heart-​rending sigh and her own heart pained so much that she too
fainted. When she regained consciousness, she tried to locate the source of
this heart-​rending sigh and found Mihr Jahāngīr and Māh Munīr, the vizier’s
son, yet she did not have enough time to speak with them because the ascetic
had finished his prayer and called for her to accompany him back home. In
their next encounter, they would meet each other again while the ascetic was
praying. Before the meeting, Māh Munīr devised some precautions, which
he divided into degrees of intensity so that the prince could visit his beloved
while still retaining his composure and consciousness, when faced with her
beautiful countenance. In the first stage of this path of love, Mihr Jahāngīr
was to look only at her feet and in the subsequent stages, he could look at
increasingly more of his beloved. In the next stages his gaze could shift to her
legs, then to her waist, on to her shoulders, then mouth, eyes, ears and finally
to her nose. Māh Munīr was unable to see the ascetic’s daughter himself, how-
ever, because of his own low level along the spiritual path.

Mihr Jahāngīr at Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain


The beloved asked Mihr Jahāngīr to come to meet her at Consciousness-​
Snatcher Mountain, under the lote tree (sidrat al-​muntahā).3 Mihr Jahāngīr
and Māh Munīr had to pass through a long and difficult journey to reach
Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain. The young noble had been loosed from
his princely pride and had given up his life of luxury and ease in order to meet
his beloved. He underwent all manner of pain and suffering with great devo-
tion. When the prince, alongside his companion, arrived at Consciousness-​
Snatcher Mountain at midnight, he visited his beloved under the lote tree. The
beloved asked Mihr Jahāngīr to pledge his allegiance to remain loyal to her
on the path of love. The beloved stated that there is much pain and suffering
along the path of love and that she would test and examine the lover in many
different ways. Then, she concluded by officiating a contract of association
and brotherhood (ʿaqd al-​ukhuwwat)4 between Mihr Jahāngīr and Māh Munīr.
Suddenly, the ascetic awoke and upon finding them together under the tree,
he became enraged and cursed them both. Under the influence of this curse,
Mihr Jahāngīr was transformed into a nightingale and his beloved into a rose.
When Māh Munīr explained their innocence and purity, the ascetic regretted
his harsh reaction, but he was powerless to dispel the curse. The ascetic told
Māh Munīr that they could only be made human once more through the
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  81
use of a special, spell-​breaking jewel (shāh muhra). Inevitably, Māh Munīr
embarked on a journey, leaving behind the nightingale and the rose, to find
this enchanted gem that could cure the prince and his beloved.

Travel to Iran
One day, a merchant reached the mountain and upon seeing the beauty of the
rose and smelling its strong sweet fragrance, he decided to take it as a souvenir
of his journey to give to the King of Iran. For a long time, the nightingale
searched for the rose until he finally found her at the court of the King of
Iran. The nightingale’s songs were so tragic and stunning that the king and
his queen perceived that there was a secret behind their sorrowful melody.
They therefore caged the nightingale to keep him at their court in order to
discover this hidden secret. After this, the nightingale began to speak and
to tell them his story, to which the king replied that his brother, the King
of Turan, possessed the spell-​breaking jewel. By way of the spell-​breaking
jewel, they broke the curse and the rose and the nightingale were transmog-
rified once more to their proper human forms. On one glorious day, the rose
and the nightingale were married. They could not consummate their marriage
physically, however, since their relationship was not a corporeal one because
the rose was so tender, yet the nightingale was content with only inhaling
her fragrance. With the approval of the rose, the nightingale was married to
two princesses from Iran and Turan who bore him two sons, Khushbū and
Khushgū, see Mihr Jahāngīr’s Family Tree in Table 2.1.

The Narration of Didactic Stories


Having wed the rose and then two wives who each bore him a son, the night-
ingale yearned to go back to Arabia to visit his father. Before returning, he
recounted two didactic tales, the first of which was the legend of Farrukh Fāl
and Shāh Shujāʿ, while the second was the legend of Ḥusn and ʿIshq. During
the recounting of these legends, some additional tales were included in order
to further clarify the main purpose. The King of Turan gave him the spell-​
breaking jewel in addition to telling him the story behind it.

Table 2.1 Mihr Jahāngīr’s family tree


82  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
The Legend of Farrukh Fāl and Shāh Shujāʾ
In narrating this legend, the nightingale sought to innumerate a set of com-
mendable characteristics and laudable qualities. It provides instructions for
kings as well as useful advice for both this world and the afterlife. The first
part of this legend concerns Farrukh Fāl, the son of the King of Hindustan,
who had a great passion for hunting in the Deccan. He hunted to excess, even
to such a degree that all of the courtiers complained about him to Shāh Shujāʿ,
the King of the Deccan, and thus he thought it appropriate to advise the
young noble indirectly through the use of a fable, the story of Shīr Zan-​i Āhū
Shikār. After listening to this tale, Farrukh Fāl woke up from his neglectful
sleep and repented of his sinful hunting of innocent animals. Influenced by
the guidance of Shāh Shujāʿ, Farrukh Fāl developed good morals and virtues.
He considered Shāh Shujāʿ to be his true father and shaykh.

THE STORY OF SHĪR ZAN-​I ĀHŪ SHIKĀR

The story of Shīr Zan-​i Āhū Shikār, which Shāh Shujāʿ told to Farrukh Fāl,
went as follows: Once upon a time, there was a couple who loved each other
immensely, but the husband had to travel to find a job. During the time he was
away from home, his wife sang the most sorrowful lyrics. When a passing gaz-
elle heard her mournful, melancholy singing, the gazelle became intoxicated
and started to frolic and dance. After that, the gazelle would come to her house
nightly and give her a gold coin from the treasury of the unseen (khazāna-​
yi ghayb). As these coins accumulated, the wife was now not only able to
repair her house but also to hire a watchman and even musicians. Affected
by divine providence, the metaphorical love of the wife for her husband was
transformed into true love for God. She became a perfect human (al-​insān
al-​kāmil)5 and through the effect of her companionship (ṣuḥba)6 and love, the
gazelle attained an elevated degree, rising from base animality to humanity,
that is to say, his animal qualities were changing into human qualities. Since
the other gazelles were bewildered by these spiritual changes, they first heckled
the gazelle and then wanted to know the reality of the new states that they saw
him in. Thus, the gazelle, similar to a Muḥammadan master, explained true
knowledge to them in a manner proportionate to their capacities. Sometimes,
he was in such a rapturous and ecstatic state that he told the gazelles some
secrets which were more than their level of understanding could comprehend.
Finally, he even boldly proclaimed such ecstatic utterances (shaṭḥiyyāt)7 as,
“I am human.” When the husband returned home, he met the musicians as
well as the watchman whom his wife had employed and, being surprised, he
became suspicious of his wife. After hearing the story of the gazelle, he could
not believe his wife and he asked her to call the gazelle to their home, which
the wife did several times. Nevertheless, the husband could still not under-
stand the spiritual evolution of his wife and the gazelle. Eventually, one day
while the gazelle was dancing in ecstasy, the husband killed him. The house
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  83
was in an uproar, the wife wailed and screamed and was in such anguish that
she perished over the corpse of the gazelle. At the end of the tale, the husband
committed suicide without ever having understood the truth.

FARRUKH FĀL’S FALLING IN LOVE

The second part of the legend of Farrukh Fāl and Shāh Shujāʿ is about
Farrukh Fāl’s love. On the Hindu ceremonial washing day, Farrukh Fāl was
at a riverside in the Deccan when he saw a beautiful girl taking a bath. After
falling in love, Farrukh Fāl mounted his horse with her and together they
rode off, back to Hindustan. The Hindus considered this event an injustice
and rebelled. Shāh Shujāʿ became angry with Farrukh Fāl and demanded his
arrest, but the King of Hindustan, Shāh Bā Kamāl, refused to incarcerate his
own son. Thus, Shāh Shujāʿ attacked Hindustan three times and on all three
occasions, he was defeated. Then, Shāh Shujāʿ left the kingdom to his vizier,
changed his appearance to that of a merchant and traveled to Hindustan in
search of Farrukh Fāl. Finally, he found Farrukh Fāl along with his beloved,
arrested them both, and returned with them to the Deccan where meanwhile,
Shāh Shujāʿ’s vizier had betrayed his trust and taken control of his throne.
First, Shāh Shujāʿ attempted to regain control of the territory, and then he
returned the Hindu girl to her tribe. Under the influence of Farrukh Fāl, the
Hindu girl’s beliefs had changed so that she now criticized Hinduism. Thus,
her tribe returned her to court of Shāh Shujāʿ, after which she converted to
Islam and was married to Farrukh Fāl.

THE JOURNEY OF SHĀH SHUJĀʾ TO HINDUSTAN

The third part of the legend of Farrukh Fāl and Shāh Shujāʿ is about the
latter traveling to Hindustan. One night, Shāh Shujāʿ told Farrukh Fāl that he
wanted to know the truth of the existence of certain things in the world, those
being: an honest companion, a sincere vizier, a qualified doctor, a benevolent
man, and perfect beauty, in addition to knowing the meaning of the proverb
that states: “be a harlot but a perfect person” (lūlī bāsh, ādam bāsh). Farrukh
Fāl told him that he could find all of these things in Hindustan, the territory
of his father, Shāh Bā Kamāl. Hence, Shāh Shujāʿ changed his appearance
to that of a merchant and, under the nom de voyage of Tājir-​i Ṣādiq, he set
off for Hindustan with Farrukh Fāl. After a short time, Tājir-​i Ṣādiq entered
Shāh Bā Kamāl’s court and engaged in many discourses about ideological,
religious and Sufi issues, answering the king’s doubts as any Muḥammadan
master should.
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq noticed that Shāh Bā Kamāl called his vizier by the name
Namak Ḥalāl. So one day, he asked the king if he would explain this sobriquet
because he was looking for a sincere vizier and he thought Namak Ḥalāl was
that person. Therefore, Shāh Bā Kamāl then told Tājir-​i Ṣādiq the story of the
vizier that was once a burglar who, out of severe hunger, broke into Shāh Bā
84  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
Kamāl’s castle and took some mouthfuls of royal food. With a sense of grati-
tude toward the king, he chose not to help the other burglars any further and
he asked them to stop the burglary, even to the point of physically fighting
against them. In short, he proved his loyalty to the king through these actions
and as a result, he was then employed by the king. Next, the king authorized
him to conquer Nāhir Sanga castle, the raja of which had failed to obey the
king. After conquering the castle, he returned to the king’s court with the
raja as well as the raja’s son. On the way, Namak Ḥalāl conversed about his
own beliefs with his captive and in criticism of the latter’s religion, along with
telling the story of Bī Qayd-​i Shūrīda Ḥāl. Under Namak Ḥalāl’s guidance, the
raja and his son both subsequently converted to Islam. Later, Namak Ḥalāl
attacked and defeated the Rajput tribe, which the raja belonged to.
As for the story that Namak Ḥalāl told the raja, it went as follows: once,
an insane beggar, called Bī Qayd-​i Shūrīda Ḥāl, was at a party where a very
beautiful prostitute was dancing. Out of drunken lust, he began to make lewd
and inappropriate remarks, thus upsetting the prostitute, who then refused
to submit herself to this crass man. She described herself as being fickle and
faithless like the material world, as people are attracted to the mundane world,
but are never allowed to benefit from or to enjoy it unconditionally.
After listening to the story that shows Shāh Bā Kamāl’s feelings about his
vizier, Tājir-​i Ṣādiq told him the story of “the one and a half worthy friends”
in criticism of Namak Ḥalāl, who claimed that he had 4,000 true companions,
since having only one true companion is so rare. In this story, an old mer-
chant passed his trade on to his son and recommended that he seek out a true
friend in life. Returning from his first journey, the son claimed that he had
found 40 true companions. The father was greatly surprised because he him-
self had only found one and a half worthy friends throughout his entire life.
The father wanted to examine his son’s new, supposedly worthy companions
and as expected, all of the son’s friends failed after being tested in the truth
of their friendship. The son then requested that he be allowed to examine his
father’s friends, and upon doing so, he perceived that his father’s perfect true
friend would devote his wealth, reputation and even his life for his friend but
the half-​true friend would only devote his wealth for friendship.

TĀJIR-​I ṢĀDIQ AT COURT

Next, at the court of Shāh Bā Kamāl, Tājir-​i Ṣādiq also discovered the exist-
ence of a highly qualified doctor, who was called Ḥakīm-​i Masīḥ Khiṣāl
because of his remarkable skill in healing, which had already saved many
lives. Tājir-​i Ṣādiq would not acknowledge him as a perfect doctor, however,
because Ḥakīm-​i Masīḥ Khiṣāl was unable to cure his spiritual diseases.
The King of Hindustan did not yet know Tājir-​i Ṣādiq, as it was Shāh
Shujāʿ who had taken Farrukh Fāl to the Deccan and had been with him
through the events thereafter. Most days, they spent much time together and
the king knew that Tājir-​i Ṣādiq was a skillful and wise man. He thus came to
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  85
call Tājir-​i Ṣādiq a “trustworthy friend” (Yār-​i Ṣādiq) and appointed him to
a higher position in the court. He always reported to Farrukh Fāl any events
in his house that were concealed from him. In some meetings, Tājir-​i Ṣādiq
explained Islamic doctrines of theology, religious jurisprudence and morality
to Farrukh Fāl.
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq tested the king in many different ways to discover the realities
of an honest friend and a benevolent man. For the first examination, Tājir-​i
Ṣādiq stole the necklace of the king’s son. When others accused him of stealing,
the king took his side and rebutted the charges. Furthermore, as an apology for
such accusations, the king sent Tājir-​i Ṣādiq to a famous harlot’s house, and
this proved to be an opportunity for gaining insight into the meaning of the
proverb, “be a harlot, but a perfect person.” Tājir-​i Ṣādiq gave her the neck-
lace, but she claimed that her price was more than the value of that necklace,
since she was looking for a perfect man, and not money. The next day, it was
reported to the king that the prince’s necklace was found in the harlot’s house.
As the king did not want to upset his friend, he forbade any further investi-
gation into the matter. Still, Tājir-​i Ṣādiq himself sent representatives to the
harlot’s house to interrogate her concerning the issue. She did not, however,
betray him in the slightest, and when Tājir-​i Ṣādiq saw her loyalty, he decided
to examine her in yet another way. He sent some people pretending that they
were the king’s soldiers to declare that the king had commanded them to take
her to the court. She refused to submit and was emphatic that she would only
go to bed with the perfect man and that the king was imperfect. Seeing no way
out, she drank poison to end her life, but Tājir-​i Ṣādiq saved her with the help
of Ḥakīm-​i Masīḥ Khiṣāl and then, he gave her a wedding ring.
As a further test of the king’s true friendship, Tājir-​i Ṣādiq abducted the
king’s adolescent son, Ṣāḥib Jamāl, and sent him to the Deccan with the
king’s older son, Farrukh Fāl. Again, Shāh Bā Kamāl refused to accept any
accusations against Tājir-​i Ṣādiq, who in turn, ordered Farrukh Fāl and Ṣāḥib
Jamāl to return to Hindustan as an acknowledgment of the truth of Shāh Bā
Kamāl’s friendship to him. When Shāh Bā Kamāl heard this news, he did not
rejoice, because he maintained that when he had a trustworthy friend, he had
no need of any others, even his sons.
The true identity of Tājir-​i Ṣādiq was uncovered by Farrukh Fāl.
Appointed as Shāh Bā Kamāl’s vicegerent, Shāh Shujāʿ, under the guise of
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq, started making adjustments to the positions of the courtiers
as well as to their salaries, along with other changes such as introducing new
rules and regulations. Shāh Shujāʿ’s reforms resulted in the spread of unity,
justice and equality across the territory. He was, in all practical senses, the
king throughout the Deccan and all of Hindustan, despite the fact that Shāh
Bā Kamāl was the official king, though in name only. Many of the courtiers
were unsatisfied with his increasing power and they complained that, since he
arrived at the court, they no longer had any authority.
Shāh Shujāʿ was soon married to Shāh Bā Kamāl’s daughter as well as to
the harlot. Accompanied by Shāh Bā Kamāl and his new wives, Shāh Shujāʿ
86  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
returned to the Deccan. A part of this story centers around the reaction of
Shāh Shujāʿ’s first wife to his two new wives. Shāh Bā Kamāl was a true father
to the wives of Shāh Shujāʿ, guiding and advising them in life, but since the
world is so capricious and fickle, Shāh Bā Kamāl passed away. Wearing his
robe and turban, Shāh Shujāʿ bore a resemblance to Shāh Bā Kamāl and he
became the second Shāh Bā Kamāl, that is, he achieved annihilation in his
master. When he passed away, Farrukh Fāl became his vicegerent and was
called the second Shāh Shujāʿ because of his annihilation in his own master.

The Legend of Ḥusn and ʿIshq


The nightingale recounts the second legend, that of Ḥusn and ʿIshq. The first
part of this legend is about a goldsmith, Zargar-​i ʿAql, who created a large and
mysterious statue of a white elephant for the King of Turan. Zargar-​i ʿAql’s
wife had a hidden relationship with another goldsmith, who discovered the
secret that Zargar-​i ʿAql had stolen the royal jewels and gold as raw materials
for the statue. After this secret was revealed, the king commanded that Zargar-​
i ʿAql be hanged from a high minaret. In the course of these events, the poor,
condemned goldsmith discovered his wife’s infidelity and decided to take ven-
geance on her. One day, his wife visited him and while she pretended to cry, he
tricked her into climbing up into the minaret to receive a valuable necklace.
Then, through yet another subterfuge, he was able to exchange places with the
greedy woman and the next morning, when the people saw a woman instead
of Zargar-​i ʿAql, they naively thought that he had been transformed from a
man into a woman. After realizing the truth, the king forgave Zargar-​i ʿAql
and allowed him to marry one of the king’s attractive maids named Ṭabʿ-​i
Salīm. When his son was born, he was named ʿIshq.
The second part of this legend concerns the events surrounding the King
of Iran’s attempt to seize the white elephant. The viziers of two different kings
had each devised puzzles for one another, and it was during the course of
solving one of these puzzles that the King of Iran was killed by a secret trap
that had been devised by Zargar-​i ʿAql and built into the statue. After the
king’s death, his viziers began to fight against each other over who would
be his successor. ʿIshq, Zargar-​i ʿAql’s son, who had by that time grown to
become a brave man, attacked and defeated them. Following that event, ʿIshq
sought to discover the reality of his namesake, love, and in doing so he became
entangled with metaphorical love, which is only a taste of true love.
The third part of this legend is the story of ʿIshq falling in love with Ḥusn,
the daughter of the King of Iran. Ḥusn’s mother, however, did not approve
of him and instead wanted Ḥusn to marry the King of Turan, Shaydā, and
in order to facilitate this, she sent the king a portrait of her daughter. Upon
seeing the picture, Shaydā fell deeply in love with Ḥusn and fought against
ʿIshq several times over her. Eventually, Ḥusn and ʿIshq ran away towards
Shām, but in the course of their journey, they suffered many hardships along
the way. After they ran away, Shaydā abandoned his kingdom in order to seek
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  87
out Ḥusn. In Shām, Ḥusn and ʿIshq disguised themselves as two sons of the
King of Iran who had fled to Shām because of King Shaydā’s attack. One
day, one of the viziers of Wāla Shāh, the King of Shām, revealed that the
most beautiful of the two brothers was actually a girl and upon discovering
this, Wāla Shāh fell in love with Ḥusn. When Ḥusn and ʿIshq were informed
that the king had discovered their secret, they fled, but the king’s army was in
close pursuit until they reached the sea, which they cast themselves into out of
desperation. Following that event, Wāla Shāh, now knowing their true iden-
tities, was devastated and full of regret, such that he abandoned his kingdom.
As a pauper, he went on a journey to find Ḥusn in case she had survived,
during which he met another pauper in the desert, Shaydā, who was clutching
a painting and speaking to it. When Wāla Shāh discovered that it was a por-
trait of Ḥusn; he tried to take it, but Shaydā escaped with it and boarded a
ship. At sea, he was caught by a storm and the relentless rain washed the paint
from the portrait. When Wāla Shāh encountered Shaydā once more, this time
with the faded portrait in his hand, he told Shaydā that there was no longer
anything to fight over and that it was time to unify form and meaning (ṣūrat
and maʿnā) and to look for a unique purpose together.
They then travelled to Arabia and found ʿIshq in a desert where he had
become friends with the wild animals and prayed constantly. They became
ʿIshq’s disciples and, by and by, they evolved and grew spiritually. Eventually,
they heard from a merchant of a pious woman who lived in Hindustan and
was called Ḥusn, so they set out for Hindustan to find her. After reuniting,
Ḥusn embraced ʿIshq and his spirit absorbed into her. She released ʿIshq from
the pain of separation and gave him permanent union. ʿIshq ascended beyond
human attributes, giving up his selfishness. In truth, he found the capacity
of proximate with-​ness (qurb).8 He annihilated himself in love and became
perfected like the moth that goes into and is consumed by the flame. Wāla
Shāh and Shaydā could not stand this world any longer and after realizing the
reality of love, they perished because of the intensity of true love.

The Legend of the Spell-​breaking Jewel


The King of Turan, Fayḍ Rasān, explained to the nightingale that a long time
ago the King of Iran, Khujasta Shamīm, had fallen in love when he saw a
portrait of Buland Himam, the King of Turan. On the one hand, Khujasta
Shamīm left his kingdom and traveled to Turan in order to visit Buland
Himam, while on the other hand, Buland Himam gave up his monarchy to
obtain real knowledge as a pauper (faqīr).9 When Khujasta Shamīm arrived
in Turan, he could not find Buland Himam. Although the King of Iran was
thoroughly disappointed, he continued on his journey and arrived in Mecca.
It was in this city that he decided to consult some Sufi paupers in hopes of
fulfilling his wish, and thus, he became a disciple of Shāh ʿĀrif. One day,
when he was speaking to the portrait of Buland Himam, one of the disciples
informed the others that Khujasta Shamīm was an idol worshipper (ṣūrat
88  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
parast).10 Shāh ʿĀrif helped to guide him from idol worship to the worship of
the true meaning behind such images (maʿnā parastī). Under the influence of
Shāh ʿĀrif and his disciples, Buland Himam eventually came to Mecca and
joined the Sufi circle there.
Following this part, the narrative of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb becomes more
specialized, moving beyond only stories and metaphor to more advanced
content and discussion. Yet the story nonetheless continues, and one night,
when Shāh ʿĀrif asked Buland Himam to explain what he had learned on
his journey, the latter replied that, at first, he went to Greece and learned the
knowledge of the intellect and philosophy. However, Shāh ʿĀrif criticized the
way of the philosophers and the trust they placed in the intellect. Then, he
emphasized the importance of inner (within oneself) and outer (in the world)
journeys (sayr-​i āfāqī wa anfusī).11 On the second night, Buland Himam told
him that thereafter he learned alchemy. Shāh ʿĀrif explained to him that
alchemy was for worldly persons, while the influence of the divine names of
God was the same as alchemy for the mystic and that the divine names of
God are the spiritual alchemy that refers to the concept of the unseen helpful
hand (dast-​i ghayb). On the third night, Buland Himam explained that he
had studied religious knowledge and had found that there are many different
sects in Islam. “Just one sect as a true community of Islam would lead one to
obtain salvation,” Shāh ʿĀrif told him. On the fourth night, Buland Himam
expressed that he had studied Sufism and that it had many different orders. In
reply to this, Shāh ʿĀrif explained, “Since there are as many paths to God as
there are human souls, there are many diverse orders in Sufism.” He advised
strongly against feigning in Sufism, and he criticized those who believe in the
unity of being (waḥdat al-​wujūd). He explained that on the Sufi path, there
are many different training methods based on the qualities and capacity of
each disciple.
On the fifth night, Buland Himam told him that he had learned the Yogi’s
methods of controlling the body and the breath. Shāh ʿĀrif explained to him
that the health of the body was also important in the Muḥammadan path.
There were many disciplines for breathing, eating, drinking, sleeping, and
exercising, as well as self-​mortification. On the sixth, seventh, eighth, and
ninth nights, Buland Himam posed his doubts on determinism and authority
(jabr wa ikhtiyār), the bridge over hell (ṣirāṭ), the balance of deeds (mīzān) and
seeing God in the afterlife.12 On the tenth night, Buland Himam spoke about
his knowledge in warfare and Shāh ʿĀrif acknowledged the importance of
military training. He even also taught him a spiritual technique for fighting
by which a person could receive divine assistance in battle with the help of
the divine names of the Helper and the Victorious (al-​Nāṣir) Moreover, he
mentioned that the weapons of the mystic were his eyes and tongue and that
the greater holy struggle (jihād al-​akbar)13 was spiritual combat. On the elev-
enth night, Buland Himam discussed the beliefs of the 74 sects of Muslims.
Shāh ʿĀrif asserted some of the main beliefs of these sects in detail and
provided a critique of each. On the twelfth night, Buland Himam told him
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  89
about his experiences in the arts of music and painting, to which Shāh ʿĀrif
responded by speaking of the impact which music had had on one particular
holy traveler. He then, in the end, gave Buland Himam the name Ṣāḥib Dil
and Khujasta Shamīm that of Ahl-​i Dil, and he asked them to return to their
kingdoms and to rebuild mosques. He then explained that he would disappear
after the Sufi dance,14 but that in his place would miraculously appear (kharq-​
i ʿādat)15 the spell-​breaking jewel, the enchanted gem capable of breaking
any spell. While he danced in the ecstasy of true love, he called out, “Light!”
(Yā Nūr!), and he was drowned in light from head to toe. Bystanders were
rendered unconscious and it was only after three days that they came back
to their senses. There was no trace of Shāh ʿĀrif and in his place was indeed
the spell-​breaking jewel. Both kings returned to their kingdoms in accordance
with Shāh ʿĀrif’s wishes, and Buland Himam and Khujasta Shamīm each had
sons, who were respectively named Fayḍ Rasān and Fayḍ Bakhsh.

Travel to Arabia
Mihr Jahāngīr, who was now in human form but was still being referred to by
the narrator as the nightingale, traveled to Arabia by sea. When he and his
companions arrived there and he was about to be the last to disembark the
ship, suddenly a violent storm began and, with the nightingale still aboard,
the ship sank in front of his wives’ and his parents’ very eyes. When the night-
ingale fell overboard into the sea, his horse leapt out of the vessel after him,
rescued him and took him to shore. After several days of wandering, he met
an anxious and disconsolate man, called Bī Naẓīr, who was also lost. In
spite of their family relationship, they did not yet know each other. Bī Naẓīr
was soothed by the presence of the nightingale. The nightingale introduced
himself as a pauper, a warriorm and a jihād-​minded man who had fallen in
love with the rose. Prior to this meeting, he was informed by a dervish that
he would be joining Bī Naẓīr. He told Bī Naẓīr that he would assist him in
ascending to the throne, and he advised him to maintain his enthusiasm and
his righteousness, and in doing so, the nightingale imparted to him the legend
of the dervish Ganj Asrār.

The Legend of the Dervish Ganj Asrār


This legend can be divided into two parts, the first of which is about a magi-
cian whose performance stunned his entire audience including the king, and
for this they rewarded him generously. Among the crowd, however, was a
man who had no money to pay, the dervish Ganj Asrār. Thus, he asked the
magician to come to his home and to take a talisman that would help him to
be more successful and which would protect him from evil. The magician’s
wife was cooking while he went to the dervish’s house. Once there, the der-
vish locked the magician in a room and told him, “Do not be cruel! Be just
and know that you will see the results of your deed.” Then without warning,
90  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
from that very room, the actor found himself transported to an endless desert.
Suddenly, a group of people came and took him to a court where he was
appointed as the king of the city of archetypal-​images (shahr-​i mithāl), a city
in dreamland (mulk-​i khayāl), where he ruled justly for 12 years.
One day, his son caused the death of a young boy in the bazaar and the
child’s parents wanted vengeance against the king’s son for having been the
murderer. His fatherly love, however, prevented the king from ensuring that
justice be carried out. That night, when he fell asleep, he suddenly found him-
self back in the room in the dervish’s house, and it was as if he had awoken
and remembered reality. The dervish entered and told him: “You, as a magi-
cian, have presented unrealities as reality, while Sufi paupers, such as me, show
indemonstrable realities.” After receiving the talisman, the actor returned
home to see his wife waiting for him and his dinner prepared, as if hardly
any time at all had passed. After this experience, he changed spiritually under
the dervish’s spiritual influence (taṣarruf).16 He abandoned his profession as a
performer and was given the name Maḥram-​i Rāz by the dervish.
The second part of this legend is about the king who heard of the
magician’s spiritual change and wanted to meet with him. The magician told
him the entire story and the king hoped that the dervish would also guide
him, hence, he invited the dervish to his court. The dervish asked the king to
bathe together with him in the pool of the court and when the king complied,
the dervish pushed his head underwater. The king then found himself, along
with the dervish, in the middle of an endless sea. The waves took them to
safety on the shore, against which they crashed roughly. The king complained,
asking why the dervish had made him a pauper while the lowly actor was
transformed into a king. “Be patient, accept your destiny and give up your
selfishness,” the dervish answered.
After making his way to a city, the hungry king stole a loaf of bread and he
and the dervish were thus arrested and forced to work for the baker as a pen-
alty. Cruelly, the baker gave them a great deal of grueling labor to perform,
all the while insulting and even thrashing them. The king suffered pain and
the dervish taught him that he should be patient and satisfied with God’s will.
One day, they were at the seaside to collect water when the dervish told the
king: “You were a king and you had a high position. Now you deserve your
kingdom because of tolerating these tribulations and purifying your heart.
You should know that suffering in this world leads to being comfortable in
the world hereafter. Thus, you should now bathe in this sea.” The king did as
the dervish instructed and bathed in the sea, and he suddenly found himself
returned to his court. Under the dervish’s spiritual influence, the king under-
went a spiritual transformation and knew himself as a true Sufi pauper.
The pedagogical techniques of the dervish differed for each of his disciples
according to their individual needs. For example, since one of them was a
poor magician with a lowly soul (nafs-​i danī), the dervish gave him a lofty
rank and honors so that he might find his true state as a human, that is, the
highest position among all of creation. The dervish taught him to not trust
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  91
in worldly things, in that which is other than God. In contrast, for the other
disciple, the king, the dervish made him understand the condition of the poor
and the helpless so that he might treat them kindly and justly. Therefore,
one of the disciples had to be elevated, while the other had to be humbled.
The nightingale told Bī Naẓīr, “You are like the king in this story, and thus,
you will encounter hardships and suffering. You descended from your royal
station, but be assured that you will regain your proper position.”

The Nightingale’s Companions


In the desert, the nightingale met Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr, who was formerly a leading
general for the King of Shām, from whose service he had fled on account of
his cruelty. During the following days, a rich merchant, Tājir-​i Ghanī, and
another famous merchant, Tājir-​i Kabīr, along with his companions joined
the nightingale. They had been lost on their way towards Shām. These men
listened to the nightingale’s description of the rose and they believed in her
and converted sincerely to Islam.17 On different occasions, they witnessed
the nightingale struggle variously against a lion, a dragon, and black snakes
and they perceived how the nightingale could overcome hardships through
only faithfulness and wisdom. The nightingale advised his companions to be
patient, to endure the raging thirst, hunger and exhaustion they were being
subjected to and to be faithful. After a long time, they arrived in a deso-
late village in Shām, where all of the impoverished residents complained of
the tyranny of King Tājdār. The nightingale organized his followers into
circles based on their ranks. The first circle included Māh Munīr (who was
absent), Bī Naẓīr, Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr and Tājir-​i Ghanī. The second circle was
comprised of Tājir-​i Kabīr and his ten followers and in the third circle were
the 40 companions. The fourth circle included 310 followers who were all in
the caravan of Tājir-​i Kabīr. They prayed constantly and all of them took
an oath of allegiance to obey the Nightingale. Later, King Tājdār received a
report about the activity of a group of paupers who were Muslims with spe-
cific disciplines. Regarding Mihr Jahāngīr’s Companions see Table 2.2.

The Rose after Missing the Nightingale


When the nightingale fell into the sea, the mournful rose, his beloved who
was once more in human form though she was still being referred to by the

Table 2.2 Mihr Jahāngīr’s companions


92  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
narrator as the rose, cast herself into the waves as well. Since the nightingale
had previously given her the spell-​breaking jewel, she survived and a ship took
her to Hindustan. Māh Munīr, who was still looking for the spell-​breaking
jewel arrived in Hindustan, where he visited the rose and in this meeting, the
rose talked about her spiritual metamorphosis under the influence of the elixir
of love.18 The rose called herself Khār-​i Dil Afgār because of her separation
from her lover. She became aware of the nightingale’s location and asked Māh
Munīr to find him, to help him and to bring him to her in Hindustan. Māh
Munīr set off on his journey with a letter from the rose to the nightingale.
Meanwhile, the King of Hindustan, Shāh Ḥaq Shinās, came to hear of the
fame of a mystic woman, the rose, who lived in the desert. The king asked her
sincerely to take his place as the ruler of Hindustan, as she was the most tran-
scendent and the most deserving person for this position. She accepted and
then covered herself in a veil so that no one could see her physical beauty. She
chose four moderators and called herself Shāh-​i Shāhān (“King of Kings”).19

The Journey of Māh Munīr to Hindustan


Māh Munīr arrived in the city of Sabā, and fell in love with a princess named
Mushtarī. She frequently tested his love and eventually came to realize that
Māh Munīr was not motivated by lust or greed and that he loved her sin-
cerely. While Mushtarī drank wine and enjoyed music and lyrics, Māh Munīr
abstained from partaking of wine, believing that drinking was only useful for
worldly men, because they wanted to release their pain and unrest, whereas
mystics, such as himself, endeavored to shun experiences of worldly pleasure
and convenience in order to attain perfection. He preferred consciousness to
drunkenness and negligence. Ultimately, when Mushtarī identified him as a
true perfect man, she decided to travel with him in the company of her maids.
They arrived in Shām,20 where King Tājdār fell in love with Mushtarī, and
by way of a deceitful ruse, he cast Māh Munīr in the sea. Mushtarī, how-
ever, would not submit herself to the king and she chose to leap into the sea.
She was saved by a pious man who was called ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn. Since
Mushtarī had learned the Muḥammadan disciplines from Māh Munīr and
had experienced a spiritual change, ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn was impressed by
her and awoke from the slumber of heedlessness as a dogmatic hermit.
When Māh Munīr was thrown into the sea, the waves took him to the
beach where the nightingale and his followers were. Māh Munīr and the night-
ingale became very happy when they met and visited each other after such a
long time. The followers of the nightingale did not know his real name, but
Māh Munīr revealed the reality of his friend’s identity and asked his followers
to call him Mihr Jahāngīr instead of the nightingale. After listening to Māh
Munīr’s story about King Tājdār’s injustice, Mihr Jahāngīr and his followers
decided to invade and conquer Shām. King Tājdār’s son fled to Yemen but
King Tājdār himself surrendered immediately and pretended to convert to
Islam. ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn and Mushtarī came to the court to serve the
new king. ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn asked Mihr Jahāngīr to accept him as his
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  93
disciple, but he answered that there were no disciple-​master relationships in
his order, only love and friendship, devotion, and loyalty. Then, Mihr Jahāngīr
permitted him to enter his follower’s circle in order to benefit from his com-
panionship. Tājir-​i Ghanī, who was a relative of King Tājdār, married King
Tājdār’s daughter, Gawhar Iftikhār, and likewise, Bī Naẓīr was married to
Gawhar Shāhwār, the other of Tājdār’s daughters, whom Mihr Jahāngīr called
by the name Umm al-​Fāṭima (“the Mother of Fatima”). She was appointed
by Mihr Jahāngīr to guide the women of the circle and he prayed that God
would unite her with Fatima at the Resurrection.

Travel to Hindustan
Mihr Jahāngīr travelled to Arabia to meet the rose as well as his father, but he
did not yet know what had happened to the rose. When he arrived in Arabia
and heard of all the events that had transpired, he became upset and restless.
At that time, Māh Munīr gave him the letter from the rose and thus, he decided
to travel to Hindustan, giving up the kingdom of Shām and appointing
ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn as his successor. He anticipated that he would have four
vicegerents and that they would rule for 100 years. Later, however, some cruel
kings would come to govern, and everyone would only pretend to be Muslim,
but in truth, no one would actually observe Islamic principles. Along the way,
many people joined Mihr Jahāngīr and he asked them to call him the night-
ingale, because of this name’s relation to that of the rose. He preached to his
companions and everyone benefited from his words according to their own
personal capacity.
The rose had sent messengers to obtain news of the nightingale. Finally,
one of these messengers met the nightingale and his followers. He introduced
himself as a messenger from Shāh-​i Shāhān, the King of Hindustan (whom
we know in actuality to be the rose), who was the sole possessor of the spell-​
breaking jewel in the entire world. No one knew her real identity, however,
not even her four mediators. When the nightingale arrived in Hindustan, he
could not find the rose anywhere. The nightingale accepted the invitation of
the King of Hindustan and wanted to know how Shāh-​i Shāhān had come
into possession of spell-​breaking jewel, which he had given earlier to the rose.
Impressed and moved by the nightingale’s words and behavior during this
meeting, Shāh-​i Shāhān’s vizier, who was a worldly warrior, asked the night-
ingale to accept him as a disciple, but the nightingale refused. “The training
methods are various and based on each disciple’s personal spiritual capacity.
Worldly persons should observe divine law and gain good morals,” he told the
vizier and advised him to pray, to remember the divine names of God and to
undergo self-​mortification.

Meetings between the Rose Disguised as Shāh-​i Shāhān and the Nightingale
Several times, the nightingale visited Shāh-​i Shāhān, who remained veiled and
communicated with him only through her mediators, see Table 2.3.21 The first
94  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
Table 2.3 Shāh-​i Shāhān’s mediators

Hamdam-​i Qāl Maḥram-​i Ḥāl Maẓhar-​i Jamāl Maẓhar-​i Jalāl

time, the nightingale went to the court with all of his followers and the king
presented them with a special dress of honor (khilʿat) and permitted them
to enjoy themselves by relaxing in the Rest-​Giving Garden (Bāgh-​i Rāḥat
Afzā). The second time, the nightingale visited her alone and when he smelled
the rose’s sweet fragrance, he fainted. The mediators returned him to his
friends and the nightingale recounted to Māh Munīr that, when he was in the
presence of Shāh-​i Shāhān, he experienced the same feeling that he had had
in the Love-​Increasing Garden. Among the nightingale’s companions, Māh
Munīr was the only person who knew about his love. Māh Munīr assured the
nightingale that Shāh-​i Shāhān was in fact his beloved, but disguised under
the veil of kingship. During the third visit, when the nightingale again smelled
the fragrance of the rose, he fainted once more.
The fourth time, however, he resolved to control himself, and in this
meeting, the king asked him to talk about himself. Then, she gave him a royal
silk robe which effused the sweet scent of the rose, thus signifying that one
of the veils had been removed. When her mediators placed the robe over the
nightingale’s head, he fainted from the strong fragrance of the rose. On the next
occasion, the nightingale was ordered to select from among his companions,
based on their seniority and stateliness, who would accompany him to the
court. This fifth time, he chose to bring Māh Munīr and in this meeting, this
close companion gave his full attention to the nightingale only. Shāh-​i Shāhān
then gave Māh Munīr a carpet of bliss, and thus he was overcome like the
nightingale had been, and he fainted when he smelled the sweet fragrance
of the carpet. At that moment, it seemed that he had died, but in fact, he
was truly alive and had become light-​hearted like the nightingale. After this
meeting, Māh Munīr reminded the nightingale that, “the rose has had many
different manifestations. When she manifested as your beloved, you became
her lover. When she manifested as a rose, you became a nightingale. Now, she
has manifested as a king so you became a pauper. She is veiled because kings
do not appear before paupers, but hopefully, she will become visible for you
and you will ascend to a royal state to join her.”
The sixth time, the nightingale went to the court with Bī Naẓīr, and Shāh-​i
Shāhān gave this companion a green robe of honor and lordship along with
the ring of a vicegerent. The seventh time, the nightingale went with Amīr-​i
Bā Tadbīr, who was given a patchwork robe of honor and an inlaid belt. The
eighth time, the nightingale was accompanied by Tājir-​i Faqīr, who received
a colored robe of honor and an inlaid dirk. The ninth time, the nightingale
went again with Māh Munīr, who on this occasion was given some pearls
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  95
and jewels. The tenth meeting, the nightingale went alone to Shāh-​i Shāhān’s
court and told her his story and requested that the king tell him how she had
acquired the spell-​breaking jewel. The king explained that the spell-​breaking
jewel was from the mystic’s heart, and that in fact, everyone who knew the
path of love could harness the spell-​breaking jewel. She added that the night-
ingale had always possessed it, but he simply did not know this.
The eleventh time, once again the nightingale went alone to Shāh-​i
Shāhān’s court. He was received with a special dinner of food and drink nor-
mally accorded only to royalty. Then, Shāh-​i Shāhān asked him the name of
his beloved. The nightingale, however, answered that he did not know her
real name, because she had manifested in so many different forms according
to her various attributes. Upon hearing the nightingale’s words, Shāh-​i
Shāhān promoted him to a higher state. He was drowned in the light of Shāh-​
i Shāhān. The twelfth and final time, the nightingale was at the same level
as her mediators; that is, he was permitted to be next to the throne. Shāh-​
i Shāhān asked the nightingale to tell a didactic tale, since the nightingale
was a perfected and wise man. Thus the nightingale recounted the legend of
Ghulām-​i Khākī and called it “the mirror of the universe.”

The Legend of Ghulām-​i Khākī


The King of Jannat Naẓīr Island once found a strange pearl, and when the
pearl was broken, the portrait of Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins (“King of Jinns and
Humans”) manifested from inside of it. The portrait then spoke, saying,
“I am the soul of the universe and I want to govern the universe under the
guise of the name Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins. I will manifest myself for all who
possess sufficient spiritual capacity to see me.” Then, he chose four fairies,
whom he commanded to construct the two cities of Jābulqā and Jābulsā.22
He further commanded them to bring some humans from the world of
humanity to live and trade in these cities. Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins, that is the
soul of the universe, chose an Arab farm slave named Ghulām-​i Khākī and
gave him a high position at court. Then, Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins commanded
all the angels and jinns to prostrate before the slave. All obeyed except one
jinn called Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn. Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins dismissed this rebel-
lious jinn from his post, and thus, Dhūʾl-​Funūn jealously swore to reveal
the incompetence of Ghulām-​i Khākī. The king advised Ghulām-​i Khākī
not to speak with Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn and he also forbade him from going
to the tavern and drinking wine. One night, Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins manifested
himself in Ghulām-​i Khākī’s dream without any veils, and upon seeing his
beauty, Ghulām-​i Khākī became ecstatic and fell in love. After this dream,
he became sick, upset and distracted. Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn claimed that
drinking a glass of wine would cure his illness. Ghulām-​i Khākī, however,
did not accept this remedy as he was sure in his belief that the prohib-
ition against wine was beneficial for him. Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn stated that
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Ghulām-​i Khākī was his foolish friend while conversely, he was Ghulām-​i
Khākī’s wise enemy.
To illustrate this, Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn told the story of the calamitous,
foolish friend and the beneficial, intelligent enemy. In this story, a man struck
up a friendship with a bear and once, while the man was asleep in his house,
the bear was watching over him and saw that a fly had landed on the man’s
forehead. While the bear wanted to kill the fly with a large stone, a burglar
who had broken into the house saw the situation and argued with the bear.
When the man awoke, the burglar explained what had happened. Thus, the
bear was a foolish friend and the burglar was an intelligent enemy. Based on
this story, Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn claimed that he had no desire to cultivate a
friendship with a human. He did, however, concede to the high rank and com-
prehensiveness of the perfect human. Thereafter, Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn could
still not convince Ghulām-​i Khākī to partake of wine, so he sent a woman
who successfully tempted Ghulām-​i Khākī into finally doing so. Shāh-​i Jinn
wa Ins became angry with Ghulām-​i Khākī and banished him to the orient.
He commanded that all of Ghulām-​i Khākī’s possessions be seized with the
exception of the vicariate ring on which the greatest divine name was carved.
Exiled to the orient, specifically Hindustan, Ghulām-​i Khākī was remorseful.
One day, Ghulām-​i Khākī was sitting under a tree on which four birds sat
boasting about their own particular qualities. The falcon claimed that he was
a symbol of the sense of sight (bāṣira), while the parrot said that he was a
symbol of the faculty of speech (nāṭiqa), the crane noted that he was a symbol
of the sense of hearing (sāmiʿa), and the hoopoe claimed that he was a symbol
of the sense of smell (shāmma). The falcon wanted to hunt a sparrow in order
to flaunt his powerful sight, but he was instead caught in a bird trap. The
crane pleaded with the man who sat under the tree, that is Ghulām-​i Khākī,
to help them free the falcon by purchasing him from the hunter who had laid
the trap. The crane told the man of a treasure that was concealed under the
tree which he could use to pay the hunter. Ghulām-​i Khākī agreed and bought
the falcon with the hidden treasure. The hunter, however, could not carry the
heavy treasure alone, so he asked two horsemen to help him. But when those
men learned of the treasure, they killed him to take it for themselves, only to
then kill each other fighting greedily over it. Thereafter, the four birds became
the companions of Ghulām-​i Khākī. The king sent two jinns in human form
to assist Ghulām-​i Khākī and after a while, many people gathered around
him. Ghulām-​i Khākī guided them to the right way and taught his followers
the disciplines of the Muḥammadan order and he advised them all to choose
to adopt Muḥammadan virtues and temperament (khulq-​i Muḥammadī).23
He told his followers didactic stories in order to teach them deep knowledge
indirectly. One such example is the story of the perfect dervishes, wherein a
dervish who lived on the beach asked his wife to bring some food for another
hungry dervish on the other side of the sea. He told his wife: “when you want
to go across the sea, swear to the sea that I am a man who has had no rela-
tionship with lust.” When she did so, and met and fed the hungry dervish,
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  97
he then said to her, “When you want to go back across the sea, swear to the
sea that I am a man who has had no benefit from the world.” In both cases,
the bewildered woman accused her husband as well as the hungry dervish of
asking her to swear to a false statement. She knew that her husband had had
sex and also that the hungry dervish had eaten food, and she thus pointed out
that these things were in contradiction with the statements they had asked her
to swear to. Ghulām-​i Khākī explained that this woman did not know that
God appraised his servants according to their intentions and not merely their
deeds. Ghulām-​i Khākī resisted Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn’s temptations and he
held that if Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn repented, Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins would forgive
him. In this regard, Ghulām-​i Khākī told the story of “the imperfect vizier”
to Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn. In this story, a certain vizier was always engaged in
fussing about with his garments and appearance, to such an extent that he was
neglectful of the king’s commands. Therefore, the king rebuked him and the
vizier regretted and repented of his carelessness in performing his duties. The
king accepted his penitence and forgave him.
Eventually, Ghulām-​i Khākī met a merchant who claimed that he had been
on Jannat Naẓīr Island and that he knew the way there. Hence, Ghulām-​i
Khākī and his followers departed from Hindustan en route to the island. They
went through the seven seas to reach four terrible valleys. After enduring a
great deal of pain, Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins finally forgave Ghulām-​i Khākī because
of his consistency on the path of love, and now Ghulām-​i Khākī deserved
to attain union with him. The king then permitted Ghulām-​i Khākī to drink
divine wine and thus, he became intoxicated and was spiritually annihilated
in the king. Then, the king revived the four birds, permitting all of them to
enter Jannat Naẓīr Island, and instructed Ghulām-​i Khākī to separate from
him once more and return to the human domain as his vicegerent. Thereafter,
when the king unveiled his face, Ghulām-​i Khākī was bathed in light. He then
returned to the human domain and his children lived in the world forevermore.

Union of the Nightingale and the Rose


Shāh-​i Shāhān decided to finally reveal her true self to the nightingale. She
commanded her mediators to throw her robe on the nightingale’s head,
instructing them that when he becomes intoxicated from the smell of her
sweet fragrance, they must take him to the desert and then remove the robe
from his head. When his consciousness returns, they must tell him that he
is in a place called the land of fairies and that its king, known as Shāh Parī
(“Fairy King”), is about to pass through. When Shāh Parī came, the night-
ingale realized that she was in fact, none other than his rose. He called, “My
rose!” and ran and cried behind her carriage. The king, however, paid him
no attention and merely handed him a rose. At the smell of the rose’s fra-
grance, the nightingale fainted. Upon recovering consciousness, he was truly
perplexed and his feet had become raw and blistered from having run so pas-
sionately after the carriage. Māh Munīr saw his wounded feet and realized
98  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
that the nightingale had completed the ascending journey, attained nearness
to Shāh-​i Shāhān and in only a short time, he would finally obtain true union
with his beloved.
The next day, the nightingale went to the court with his four companions.
He was intoxicated with love and began to dance to mystical music. The king
advised him to be patient and sober and she treated him with the miraculous
powers of the spell-​breaking jewel. Shāh-​i Shāhān wanted to test the night-
ingale, so she placed a rose in the forbidden part of the garden. When the
nightingale smelled the rose, he was impulsively compelled to go it, calling
out, “Rose!” His followers came behind him in the same way, and Shāh-​i
Shāhān became angry with them for their heedless attraction to the false rose.
She then commanded that all of them, three thousand and some hundred
dervishes in all, be executed. Travelling on the path of love, they did not fear
death. Shāh Ḥaq Shinās interceded for them and convinced Shāh-​i Shāhān to
forgive them because they were intoxicated with love. Nevertheless, Shāh-​i
Shāhān ordered the nightingale to leave the court, but despite all of the king’s
wrath and glory, he refused to leave and when the king saw his perseverance in
love, she accepted his repentance and had mercy on him. Now, both the beau-
tiful and majestic manifestations of the king were complete and the nightin-
gale came to the state of all-​comprehensiveness of signs and manifestations
(jāmiʿ-​i jamīʿ-​i tajaliyyāt).24
Several times, the nightingale went to the court with Hamdam-​i Qāl, one
of the king’s mediators. At the first meeting, Shāh-​i Shāhān spoke with the
nightingale through the music she played on a flute. She told him the story of
the rose. Yet the nightingale could not bear to continue listening to this sad
account and he cried loudly. The king found that he was not ready for the deep
knowledge that was concealed in the story and she asked her mediators to
return him to his quarters. At the second meeting, the nightingale sat near the
throne and Shāh-​i Shāhān again played her flute and told the story of the rose
with words as well. By telling this story, the king was removing the veils from
over the nightingale, one by one. When she finished the heart-​rending tale, she
told him, “I am your rose.” As soon as he heard those words, the nightingale
fainted and the mediators returned him to his quarters. From that time, the
beautiful face of the rose came to be reflected on the nightingale’s face. At the
third meeting, Shāh-​i Shāhān once again spoke with the nightingale through
music. She asked the nightingale to keep the secret from everyone except his
four elite companions and Mushtarī. In this meeting, she explained to him
profound knowledge and told him the story of Sulṭān (“King”) and Kanīz
(“Bondwoman”).

The Story of Sulṭān and Kanīz


The story of Sulṭān and Kanīz is about a king who fell in love with a
bondwoman. The jealous queen accused the bondwoman of not paying
attention to her duties and even of having claimed to be a queen. On hearing
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  99
these accusations, the king became angry with the bondwoman, since it was
expected that she observe the rules of etiquette regarding the differences
between levels, so he commanded that she be imprisoned. The bondwoman
was not upset, however, because she understood that this command was a
manifestation of the king’s majestic attributes and she had already seen the
manifestation of his attributes of beauty. When it was reported to the king
that the bondwoman had become intoxicated in prison, he investigated the
veracity of this information.
The king eventually came to realize that she was innocent. So he not only
forgave her, but he showed the bondwoman great mercy and, although he did
not have her released from prison, he sent her many gifts. After a while, the
bondwoman requested that she be allowed to meet the king. The king came
to the prison several times and he was drowned in light from every direction.
After telling this story, Shāh-​i Shāhān imparted the good news that the night-
ingale would shortly attain the state of vicegerency. She also commanded that
he be called, “the king of lovers” and in fact, he was the king of the domain
of enrichment (mulk-​i qināʿat).

The Nightingale as the Closest Servant


At the fourth meeting, Hamdam-​i Qāl brought the nightingale the dress of
honor of abundance and continuance (khilʿat-​i faqr wa fanāʾ). Then, Hamdam-​
i Qāl took him along with Mushtarī to the court. The king respected and
revered Mushtarī. Next, Shāh-​i Shāhān commanded it be proclaimed every-
where that the nightingale had been chosen as the closest servant of Shāh-​i
Shāhān. Thus when the nightingale returned, many people were waiting for
him. Hamdam-​i Qāl met the nightingale on seven occasions wherein he read
some verses from the Qurʾān that related to the current situation, after which,
the nightingale would interpret the verses for his companions. He frequently
commanded his followers to read the Qurʾān, perform the obligatory prayers,
remember and exalt God and act righteously, avoiding sin and attaining
good morals. The nightingale became a greater lover, yet he was also more
distressed from hearing these verses. After one week, he went to the court
with Hamdam-​i Qāl, and in this meeting, Shāh-​i Shāhān unveiled her face
as the rose. The nightingale, upon seeing her beauty, begged for permanent
union, but the rose told him that it was not possible because the period of
words and revelation was finished and he must now separate himself from her
to go forth and travel. He should know that this separation was necessary for
unification in the future, since the earthly man cannot ascend without first
descending. She broke the spell-​breaking jewel in two, keeping one half her-
self while giving the other to the nightingale.
The nightingale left Shāh-​i Shāhān’s court to set off for Arabia, Rūm, Iran
and Turan. He formed a great army and conquered near and far. On returning
to Hindustan, he proposed to Shāh-​i Shāhān, as he had been instructed by her.
At that point, Shāh-​i Shāhān revealed her true identity to Shāh Ḥaq Shinās for
100  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
the first time. She told him that she is actually the rose, a manifestation of
divine beauty, and she also revealed that the nightingale is the symbol of the
Prophet. Their union was the symbol of union with the divine on the Day
of Resurrection. When the rose descended from her throne, all of her veils
were removed and she joined the nightingale. They finally, after such a long
period of separation and suffering on the path of love, enjoyed a spiritual
re-​marriage. Moreover, Māh Munīr was married to Mushtarī. Thereafter and
according to Muḥammadan law, women were obliged to observe the wearing
of the veil and wine drinking and the taking of concubines, “temporary
marriage,” were prohibited.

Travel to Arabia
The nightingale travelled back to Arabia to visit his father, who passed away a
short time after his son’s arrival. The nightingale named the Love-​Increasing
Garden together with Consciousness-​ Snatcher Mountain, “the Rose
Residence,” and he built a village nearby that he called, “the Nightingale’s
Refuge.” He asked Tājir-​i Faqīr to teach the rituals of the Ḥajj and to tell
the story of the nightingale on the path of love to others. Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr
asked the nightingale to marry his daughter, Khayrī, so the rose granted him
permission knowing that the nightingale, as a human, had instinctive bodily
needs. When Bī Naẓīr’s father, King Sipihr Shukūh died, Bī Naẓīr refused
to become his successor in Rūm since he paid no attention at all to worldly
affairs and all that he wanted was to stay with the nightingale as his true
father. So, Tājir-​i Kabīr was appointed to govern in Rūm.

Travel to Hindustan
Before travelling to Hindustan, the nightingale appointed Māh Munīr as his
vicegerent and asked all to swear allegiance to him. During that time, Māh
Munīr’s son, Shahāb was born. When the nightingale arrived in Iran, King
Fayḍ Bakhsh passed away. At the same time, he was informed that Māh
Munīr had also died and that he was buried in the Nightingale’s Refuge (the
nightingale’s home). In accordance with the nightingale’s command, Amīr-​i
Bā Tadbīr became the successor of Māh Munīr. When the nightingale arrived
in Turan, Fayḍ Rasān died and Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr had been martyred and
was buried in the nightingale’s nest. Tājir-​i Faqīr became his successor. He
gathered the nightingale’s words to create a book.
In this period, Sarfarāz, Tajdar’s son, revolted against the vicegerent in
Shām and he killed ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn. Sarfarāz claimed that he followed
the nightingale’s religion and that he was a relative of the nightingale. In gen-
eral, during the period of Tājir-​i Faqīr, corruption increased and became
widespread. When the nightingale arrived in Hindustan, Shāh Ḥaq Shinās
passed away and he became aware of the fact that Māh Munīr’s son, Shahāb,
had come under the influence of incompetent advisors who had killed Tājir-​i
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Faqīr. In the nightingale’s territory, love was withdrawn after the death of
Māh Munīr, justice had vanished after the martyrdom of Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr,
and decency and compassion were lost after the murder of Tājir-​i Faqīr. The
nightingale asked Bī Naẓīr to be his vicegerent in Arabia and to take Khushbū
and Khushgū, the nightingale’s sons, under his wing. He put the crown of
poverty (tāj-​i faqr) on Khushbū’s head and gave him the Muḥammadan flag.
The nightingale told Khushbū: “one of your descendants will come whose
name will be the same as my name. He will lament in the same manner as the
nightingale and will teach the divine knowledge. His path will be the best path
and will be called the Muḥammadan path. Eventually, another one of your
descendants will come to complete the true guidance. After him, the world
will darken like night forever and autumn will become the permanent season.
No one will know who the rose was and how the nightingale moaned.”
Thereafter, the rose gave the spell-​breaking jewel to Bī Naẓīr and told him,

You have heard the lamentation of the nightingale. Now, you know the
quality of heart and I have given you all-​inclusive secrets. I hope that
people will listen to the lamentation of the nightingale again. I hope that
the descendants of the nightingale will teach all of his disciplines and
knowledge.

When Bī Naẓīr left Hindustan for Arabia with Khushbū and Khushgū, the
rose told the nightingale, “All of your companions are separated from you.
No one wants to listen to your songs and no one wants to see the beauty of
the rose. Fall has come here. You should come with me. Fly! Give up your
corporeal aspect.” Then, she began to fade away until there was nothing
left of her but her fragrance. Following her, the nightingale took flight and
disappeared over the horizon.

The Nightingale’s Successors


Bī Naẓīr tried to spread the nightingale’s knowledge, his lamentation as
well as the disciplines of his path of love. During this period, two important
events occurred, one being the accusation from Nasrīn, the nightingale’s wife
who called herself Umm al-​Muʾminīn (“Mother of the Believers”), against
Shahāb that he had killed Tājir-​i Faqīr. In actuality, Shahāb had not killed
Tājir-​i Faqīr, but he had only accompanied the murderers. Shahāb claimed
that after the incident, he had repented. Ultimately, Bī Naẓīr, was able to
convince Nasrīn of this and she found that she had made a mistake. The
other event involved Sarfarāz, Tajdār’s son, with whom Bī Naẓīr had made
a peace treaty in order to spare the lives of the soldiers in his army after a
hard-​fought battle. The location of the tomb of Bī Naẓīr remained unknown,
since this was what he had wished. It is said that when his coffin was opened
for burial, it was found to be empty. When Khushbū became vicegerent,
Sarfarāz revolted against him in Shām, because he claimed to have rightful
102  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
rule over the territory. Since Khushbū had no interest in worldly affairs, he
relinquished the government to Sarfarāz, who was eventually murdered by
poisoning. ʿAlamdār, Sarfarāz’s son and successor, was a cruel and wicked
ruler, thus Khushgū rebelled against him. He resisted until he was killed. In
brief, corruption was rampant, autumn had come and no one remembered the
lamentation of the nightingale. Nevertheless, spring will someday return and
the nightingale’s vicegerents will remain in the world until the Resurrection.
To conclude this section, it can be argued that ʿAndalīb’s manner of
representation is remarkable with regard to the importance of contextual-
izing the narrative in Indo-​Muslim society after Nādir Shāh’s invasion and
the death of the last qayyūm as well as the influence of his contemporaries’
activities to save the Islamic values of their society under the pressure of
indigenous Indian religions. The following analysis considers how events
like falling in love, suffering to visit the beloved, fleeing from a tyrant, wars
and miracles all play together to transfer indirect connections to the events
surrounding the author. Audiences of his narrative listen to the storyteller/​
shaykh, who captures their imagination and enlightens them with his own
specific ideology. That is the function of the lyrical and mystical ambiguous
language that renders the audience into his disciples, who are initiated into his
path step by step, and they are made familiar with the characterization of the
protagonist, the nightingale, which is an intelligent and mysterious choice for
this narrative and is the focus of the following analysis.

The Nightingale’s Lament: The Meaning Behind the Narrative


To outline a comparison between ʿAndalīb’s discourse and that of his con-
temporaries, the use of allegorical themes in the storytelling genre is a unique
aspect which sets ʿAndalīb’s work apart and made it a reaction to the wide-
spread heated, lengthy and dry discussions of his day surrounding religious
and mystical issues. He applied narratives from oral traditions to elucidate a
variety of mystical themes with regard to his social context. His manner of
expression extended the ability of words to express his thoughts and feelings
about the social and cultural circumstances of India.25 Its plot and almost all
of the events, actions, figures, historical archetypes, places, words and objects
have symbolic meaning. Dealing with all of these would be beyond the scope
of this book, thus the focus is instead placed on uncovering the meaning of
fundamental concepts that are derived from the enigmatic and metaphorical
title of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb (“The Nightingale’s Lament”).
Initially, this title poses questions such as: Who is the nightingale and what
is the meaning of his lament? Why does he lament? The answers to these
questions can be found in ʿAndalīb’s triangulation of the nightingale, the
rose and lamentation. This section attempts to decode ʿAndalīb’s purpose in
using these elements and to interpret their hidden meanings and metaphorical
senses. The addressed topics will be scrutinized in depth within the framework
of theoretical mysticism and in light of ʿAndalīb’s worldview as shaped by his
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  103
context, discussed in earlier chapters. First, this triad represents the Prophet’s
character as an esoteric master who is symbolized by the protagonist, the
nightingale. Furthermore, the central role of the Prophet Muḥammad and
the relationship between the nightingale and the rose help to expound the
doctrine of with-​ness (maʿiyya), as a rejection of the controversial idea of
waḥdat al-​wujūd, often understood as belief in the possibility of union with
God. What connects the different elements of this triad is the love story and
the lament refers to pain on the mystical path, under the cover of which
ʿAndalīb’s main critical points of view are revealed. Thus, each part of this
triangulation is generally paralleled with and accompanied by the images of
the others. They are explained not only according to the context of Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb, but also in line with their positions in Persian literature to show the
different ways ʿAndalīb uses these words.
To begin with, his frequent and obvious emphasis that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is
replete with secret allegory (tamthīl-​i ramzī)26 is derived from the example of
the Qurʾān. He cites the following Qurʾānic verses as instances of early alle-
gory: “And Allāh presents examples (al-​amthāl) for the people that perhaps
they will be reminded,”27 and “An example (mithal) is presented, so listen to
it.”28 Readers of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb struggle to find the lofty meaning (soul) of
the text, which is concealed under its easily understandable, apparent form
(body). On the one hand, this manner of expression was a pedagogical device
to capture the attention of his audience, which included common people who
were to gain pleasure from and become absorbed in the outward theme of the
love story. This was helpful for ʿAndalīb in addressing them in proportion to
their understanding and encouraging them to listen closely to what is being
imparted. On the other hand, it prevents the mysteries from being accessed by
“unrelated persons” (nā maḥramān), those who are not worthy and intelligent
people with a high degree of spiritual receptivity.29 Analyzing ʿAndalīb’s style
demonstrates that his narration takes its audience members by the hand to
guide and transform them into wayfarers. It leads them to obtaining profound
knowledge and it helps them to traverse the stages (manāzil) of the path under
the guidance of the secrets hidden in the allegories. Eventually, ʿAndalīb’s
audiences are placed on the path of gradually approaching God through faith
and spiritual metamorphosis, facilitated through the use of dynamic symbolic
characters, places and events.30

The Nightingale as Mihr Jahāngīr


The main node of the above-​ mentioned triangulation is the nightingale
(bulbul, a synonym of ʿandalīb), who is also called Mihr Jahāngīr. His char-
acterization is mainly divided into two basic categories: human and animal.31
Certainly, ʿAndalīb, as a prolific and powerful author, had previously heard
the story of the nightingale and the rose, and thus he brings up the idea of
transmigration in employing the nightingale-​rose metaphor, whose charac-
terization mixes and connects actual historical figures with imagined ones.
104  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
“Listen to the story of the nightingale and the rose, by the ear of spirit: I
express the divine secret,” ʿAndalīb says.32
In order to discern the function of the nightingale in ʿAndalīb’s allegorical
work, it is worthwhile to consider the imagery of birds in Persian literature
and Sufism in general. In the Qurʾān, the word bird (al-​ṭayr, pl. ṭuyūr) has
been used eighteen times in different contexts. Hoopoe (27:20), quail (2:57),
crow (5:31), and abābīl (105: 3) are the bird species in the verses. Two prophets
must be mentioned in this regard: Solomon, who knows the speech of the
birds, and David, with whom the birds sing for praise for God. According
to Joseph L. Henderson, birds represent spiritual aspirations and symbolize
transcendence.33 Carl W. Ernst, in his paper “The Symbolism of Birds and
Flight in the Writings of Rūzbihān Baqlī,” refers to Mircea Eliade, who traces
the long history of the imagery of birds to winged deities in the ancient Near
East. He surveys how the symbolism of flight was powerfully revealed in the
image of angels in the Bible, in the depiction of the human soul as a bird
in Platonic thought, as well as the portrayal of the Holy Spirit as a dove in
Christianity. He refers to how in works of art and poetry, birds were depicted
with powerful wings for the flight of the soul toward heaven.34 Other scholars
have joined in on this discussion, such as Charles Chedvik, who considers the
progressive-​dynamic characteristics of bird symbolism as having undergone
a series of changes.35 Ernst explains that examples of bird symbolism are well
known in Sufism. Ibn Sīnā (d. 428/​1037) is perhaps the first author to use
the symbol of a bird’s flight in crossing over mountains in order to describe
the ascension of the soul from the earth to the heavens.36 Ernst considers the
continuity of bird symbolism in Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-​Ghazālī (d. 504/​
1111) in his work, Risālat al-​ṭayr, Sanāʾī Ghaznawī (d. ca. 545/​1150) in Tasbīh
al-​ṭuyūr, Shihāb al-​Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī (d. 587/​1191) in Lughat-​i Mūrān
and ʿAql-​i surkh, Khāqānī (d. 595/​1199) in his poem, Manṭiq al-​ṭayr in Dīwān-​
i Khāqānī Shirwānī,37 Rūzbihān Baqlī (d. 606/​1209) in ʿAbhar al-​ʿāshiqīn and
Risālat al-​quds,38 and of course ʿAṭṭār in his renowned work, Manṭiq al-​ṭayr.
As Ernst explains, the concept of the soul’s movement comes to mind through
the imagery of flight that connects two domains, earth and heaven, to one
another.39 This expresses the soul’s tendency for ascension from the cage of
the body to return to its origin and it portrays the desire for emigration to
attain perfection and be released from pain. In Sufi tradition, the wayfarer,
after passing many difficult stages, finds two wings and is able to fly and attain
union with the eternal beloved.
ʿAndalīb chooses the nightingale (bulbul) as the ideal bird over other
potential candidates like the falcon and the sīmurgh.40 The nightingale is the
most suitable to serve as a symbol for the Prophet and the most effective for
allowing ʿAndalīb to present his viewpoints. An overview of the bulbul species,
including its names, qualities and symbolism, is useful for understanding its
function in Persian literature in general and in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb in particular.41
Poetic imaginations have given the nightingale different qualities, such as lover,
wanderer, poet, messenger and singer. In answering the question of what is
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  105
the most common characteristic of the lover nightingale, first and foremost,
his beautiful voice must be acknowledged.42 The nightingale’s melodious
singing in the spring caused birds to be regarded as messengers of spring, since
this season represents the time for reunion (waṣl) after separation (hijrān).43
ʿAndalīb employs the bulbul as the wise didactic storyteller of his work.44 The
stories are thus the nightingale’s songs, the narrative of the mystic’s quest from
metaphorical love (ʿishq-​i majāzī, love for that which is other than God) to real
love (ʿishq-​i ḥaqīqī, love for God), which pave the way for discussions about
the different modes of mystical experience, and furthermore, to raise various
issues on theology, jurisprudence and Sufism in a poetic and impressive way.

The Nightingale and the Rose as Lover and Beloved


The rose (gul) and the nightingale, symbolizing a pair of lovers, constitute
an established trope in Persian poetry. In Islamic parlance from early times,
the rose has been connected to God and the Prophet Muḥammad. Among
the Sufis, Rūzbihān Baqlī highlights a ḥadīth according to which the Prophet
Muḥammad declared that God’s glory manifests itself in the red rose.45 The
red rose is an especially apt symbol for the divine manifestation, since the red
rose contains opposing attributes, with its thorns as severity and its petals as
subtlety, while the divine manifestation is described with contrasting qualities
such as grace (luṭf) and severity (qahr) or beauty (jamāl) and majesty (jalāl).
Parallelled in descriptions of mystical experience, which are sometime full of
fear and sometimes full of hope, the mystics benefited from the character-
istic red rose as a metaphor.46 Moreover, the rose in mystical poetry serves as
a metaphor for the Prophet Muḥammad, as Khāqānī asserts: “Although all
flowers are so beautiful and attractive, the red rose is the most beautiful and
precious flower because it reflects the face of Muṣṭafā.”47
In Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, ʿAndalīb emphasizes that the rose is just a symbol
from the natural realm,48 but the character of the rose is twofold, a metaphor-
ical beloved (maʿshūq-​i majāzī) at the beginning of the work that transcends
to become the real beloved (maʿshūq-​i ḥaqīqī) under the influence of the elixir
of love (ikthīr-​i ʿishq). Therefore, initially, the well-​known virtues related to
human desire for the beloved are affixed to the rose; such as virginity, right-
eousness and boldness; but later, a separation is made between the rose and
human beings. The rose becomes a female esoteric reality from the world of
transcendence without sensual desire, full of purity and elegance. Therefore,
the rose is a sacred flower, a manifested reality that demonstrates divine beauty
through its leaves and petals. This female reality functions as a manifestation
(tajallī) of God’s wisdom, a perfect guide who leads the nightingale to the
path of love. She is ṣāḥib taṣarruf, which means she is a shaykh who controls
not only her pupils in all states but also all of creation.
ʿAndalīb enumerates the rose’s manifold attributes by referring to her with
different names which point to the various understandings Sufis and religious
scholars have of approaching the divine reality. As the daughter of an ascetic,
106  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
her mother called her “Fragrance, Fragrance” (Bū Bū); the gardeners of the
Love-​increasing garden called her “Fragrant Flower” (Gul-​i Khushbū); and
the nightingale called her “Love-​increasing Beloved” (Maʿshūq-​i ʿIshq Afzā).
Later, the King of Iran called her “Beloved Plant” (Nahāl-​i Dilband). While
separated from the nightingale, she referred to herself as a disconsolate thorn,
but a thorn that wounds the heart (Khār-​i Dil Afgār). When she became the
vicegerent of the King of Hindustan, she took the name “King of Kings”
(Shāh-​i Shāhān). Then when the nightingale joined her and she descended
from the throne of Hindustan, which demonstrates the completion of her
ascending and descending arcs, she was called the “Rose” (Gul).49 Hence, the
name “Rose” for her is such as Allāh for God; and it is not her real name. If
Allāh were the esoteric name of God, why would the Prophet have said that
the esoteric name of God is hidden? Therefore, none of the mentioned names
are the rose’s actual esoteric name. Aside from being the highest possible mani-
festation of God, the rose grows out of the soil and the soil is the epitome of
humility and modesty. The fragrance of the rose offers divine inspiration from
the spiritual dominion to the soul. It is reminiscent of the divine beloved and
when the nightingale breathes in the rose’s scent, he will hurry back to the
eternal garden, in other words, the red rose gives him the wings for flight.50

The Nightingale as the Prophet Muḥammad, the King of Lovers


The nightingale is the “King of Lovers” (Shāh–​i ʿĀshiqān) within Nāla-​yi
ʿAndalīb.51 Of note, the epithet “Master of Lovers” (Sayyid-​i ʿĀshiqān) had
already been attributed to the Prophet by Rūzbihān Baqlī.52 It is also note-
worthy that, as Schimmel asserts, poets in the Indian subcontinent more than
elsewhere describe the Prophet as a king and call him the “Prince of Medina.”53
ʿAndalīb benefited from this intellectual and emotional background and
describes the protagonist as a prince and a possessor of a worldly kingdom,
but similar to Shāh Shujāʿ al-​Kirmānī (d. 288/​901) and Ibrāhīm b. Adham (d.
ca. 161/​778), he abandons his worldly kingdom in order to obtain the true
kingdom through love.54 His kingship is the reflection of divinity on earth and
he is the metaphorical world ruler who imitates the example of the real ruler
of the world—​that is, God. Thus, he is called the vicegerent, the representative
of God who is “the shadow of God on earth” (ẓill Allāh fī al-​arḍ), the highest
manifestation of sovereignty that possesses the divine attributes of both grace
and wrath. In Rūmī’s mysticism, such a man has the qualities of lordship, like
power, greatness and bounty to reward the good and punish the evil. Thus
because of his authority, obedience to him is clearly obligatory.55
Shāh (“king”) refers to the highest spiritual rank and demonstrates nobility.
It is a cognomen of the word shaykh and the imagery of kingship demonstrates
the spiritual authority of the great mystics.56 In Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, when the
nightingale becomes a locus for the manifestation of all the divine names
and attributes, after passing through both the ascending and descending arcs
and affirming similarity (tashbīh) and declaring incomparability (tanzīh),57 he
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  107
becomes the King of Lovers and spiritually dominates people’s hearts in add-
ition to ruling over all of the inhabited world. Obviously, this monarchy is not
worldly, the lover is a pauper and is in need of the beloved.58 With this defin-
ition, in Islamic mysticism it is believed that the true pauper is much richer
and higher than the worldly king. ʿAndalīb uses the term poverty to indicate
that the true lover identifies with a pauper since he is needy in love and yearns
for his beloved, but he is in truth a king, since his wealth is love. In this regard,
he praises the virtue of this sort of poverty, thus echoing the words of the
Prophet: “Faqr (“poverty”) is my pride and faqr is my heritage.”59
The nightingale is associated with the Prophet, to the extent that the
Prophet’s love for roses may have prompted poets to call him “the nightingale
in a garden of crows” or “the nightingale of the eternal garden,”60 since mystics
believe that the Prophet is a comprehensive external manifestation of God.
Ernst observes that the famous Sufi poet Rūzbihān Baqlī frequently calls the
Prophet Muḥammad “the nightingale of the love of pre-​eternities” and “the
sīmurgh of the nest of post-​eternities.” He further notes that although these
two mentioned birds denote very different things, the earthly lover and the
heavenly beloved respectively, the Prophet’s character brings both qualities
together.61 It is thus not surprising that ʿAndalīb chooses the nightingale to
symbolize the Prophet. ʿAndalīb prefers to call his protagonist bulbul, which
he treats as a divine name related to the rose.62 In so doing, he connects the
Prophet to God when he says:

Everyone has a name in the land of the divine. Everyone has a message
from the other world. In love, there are innumerable states so that everyone
has a proper state commensurate with the extent of his own existence.63

ʿAndalīb’s nightingale nests on the ṭūbā tree, or sidrat al-​muntahāʾ, while in


mystical literature this tree has traditionally been the nest of the sīmurgh who
lives on Qāf Mountain. ʿAndalīb states that this tree is called ajān in India and
that no one knows its reality. The location of this tree, which is the meeting
place of the lover nightingale and the beloved rose, is Consciousness-​Snatcher
Mountain. Only love is a guide to the place of the ṭūbā tree. ʿAndalīb does
not in fact mention the word sīmurgh, which has frequently been regarded as
a metaphor for God in Sufi literature and is equivalent to the ʿanqāʾ in Arabic
sources.64 Nevertheless, on further examination, ʿAndalīb does not neglect
this historically significant symbolic bird, as he applies its well-​known qual-
ities to the nightingale. Furthermore, ʿAndalīb uses the famous imagery of
the nightingale as a wayfarer’s impatient soul that must release itself from the
cage of the body65 when he writes:

O ʿAndalīb, how long do you stay in the cage when you should fly toward
the rose?
Your body is an obstacle: Hurry and break loose from your restraints!
Fly toward understanding the extent and breadth of [existence].66
108  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
In this point of view, there is a transformation from the concept of sīmurgh
to that of bulbul. This reveals the importance of the Prophet Muḥammad,
who is the representative of God, which will be discussed later on in terms of
ʿAndalīb’s Sufism. The nightingale declares that his religion is love and with
a heavy heart he contemplates the rose.67 The nightingale’s role is that of a
guide and mediator of spiritual truth.68 This is the same role which ʿAndalīb
considers for himself and it is through the voice of this bird that he is able
to share his wisdom with humanity. Note that he deliberately calls himself
ʿandalīb and the Prophet Muḥammad, bulbul, which are all one name, because
these names refer to the name “Muḥammad,” that is the name of not only the
Prophet, but also of Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb and the Mahdī.69
Nevertheless, ʿAndalīb only gradually discloses the identity of his protag-
onist. Primarily, the nightingale is introduced as the Prophet’s follower, off-
spring,70 his kinsman71 or vicegerent. Ultimately, it is in the second volume
where ʿAndalīb finally discloses what the nightingale is intended to stand for,
making clear that it is a symbol for the Prophet72 who is none other than the
hidden reality, the universal epiphanic form and the seal of the prophets. With
an emphasis on his symbolic work, ʿAndalib helps his audience understand
the Prophet’s reality and his companions’ situation.73
At one point, for instance, the nightingale cites a verse from the Qurʾān
about himself that corroborates this: “I hold not for [the power of] benefit or
harm, except what God has willed. And if I knew the unseen, I could have
acquired much wealth, and no harm would have touched me. I am not except
a warner and a bringer of good tidings to a people who believe.”74 He also
states, “I am only a man like you, to whom it has been revealed that your
God is one God,”75 and continues with, “you have acquired science while
I have divinely inspired knowledge.”76 Then, the nightingale points out that
he is an exemplar, a perfect human being, a descendant of Adam and the
comprehensive last creature of God (insān-​i muʾakhkhar).77 More broadly,
since the Prophet is the seal of the prophets, the story of the nightingale also
encompasses the stories of various prophets, namely Noah, Jesus, Moses and
Muḥammad. Within these tales, the nightingale experiences in turn what each
of these prophets experienced so that his comprehensive essence includes all
of the divine signs.78 Thus through the acquisition of God’s characteristics, he
gains analogous attributes.79
In Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, the nightingale as the perfect individual possesses
the spell-​breaking jewel: a valuable stone which according to legend, can be
found in the mouth of a snake or in the head of a dragon.80 In mystical lit-
erature, it has also been called the cup of Jamshīd (jām-​i jam) and the world-​
revealing cup (jām-​i jahān-​namā) which reflects the entire world and all of the
seven heavens and was said to reveal deep truths.81 From a Sufi perspective,
jām-​i jam is the refined polished heart of the mystic in which the beauty of
Truth is reflected like a mirror.82 When the nightingale and the rose had been
transformed into animal and plant respectively, the spell-​breaking jewel was
able to raise them back to the level of humanity. Each of them comes to possess
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  109
the spell-​breaking jewel at different points and a lengthy story is told about
its reality. At the end, Bī Naẓīr, who in actuality represents ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib,
and after him Khushbū and Khushgū, who are similar to al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī
and al-​Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī and are the sons of Mihr Jahāngīr, gain possession of
the spell-​breaking jewel. ʿAndalīb writes that pure-​hearted, pious people (ahl
al-​qulūb), who know the path of love are the owners of the spell-​breaking
jewel. He confirms that the principle of the creation of the spell-​breaking
jewel is the heart of the mystic. The influence of the spell-​breaking jewel is
fantastic because whoever holds it has the power to seize the world, overcome
evil and successfully navigate safely across the sea of this world to the coast
of ultimate reality. This rare and precious stone breaks curses and ultimately,
whomsoever accompanies and adheres to the ways of the ahl al-​qulūb is able
to find the spell-​breaking jewel, and with it salvation.83
The relationship between the nightingale and the rose is similar to the rela-
tionship between the Prophet and God. The inherent beauties and virtues of
the rose are not clear to all. Only the nightingale can understand the reality
of the rose as a manifestation of the divine, since the nightingale has, out of
all the others, more relation to the rose. They are lover (ʿāshiq) and beloved
(maʿshūq), seeker (ṭālib) and sought (maṭlūb). The relation between them is
one of talking, visiting and seeing, breathing and smelling the fragrance that
will be called nearness and companionship which is discussed in ʿAndalīb’s
Sufism.84 The lamentation of the nightingale is his singing that tells the story
of pain during various stages on the spiritual path. Their story is a poet-
ical expression of grief over painful separation. Theologically, the narrative
responds to the issue of union between man and God by explaining that the
reason for the nightingale’s lament is that as a bird, it cannot reach real union
with the rose as a plant. This can be seen as a rejection of the position of the
Wujūdī Sufis. ʿAndalīb narrates that the nightingale is plunged into bewil-
derment and perplexity. He employs the fictional dialogue between the rose
and the nightingale as a device through which to impart the divine secret.85
As a messenger, the nightingale distributes the secret of love that he received,
passing it on to others. After him, his progeny promulgate the true knowledge
of love, which can be obtained by reading Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb.86 Of considerable
note, at the end of the story of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, ʿAndalīb clarifies the point
that the reunion of the nightingale with the rose symbolizes seeing the beau-
tiful face of God on doomsday, that is the final spiritual stage for wayfarers
and devotees.87
Mapping ʿAndalīb’s intellectual trajectory, the triad of the rose, the night-
ingale and lamentation (gul, bulbul and nāla) is reminiscent of that of beauty,
love and grief (ḥusn, ʿishq, ḥuzn) as found in Suhrawardī’s philosophy of
illumination (Ḥikmat al-​Ishrāq), wherein these are heavenly elements in the
material world with self-​manifestation, Table 2.4.88 In Mūnis al-​ʿushshāq,
Suhrawardī philosophically explains the secret behind the creation of this
trio. Only love can acquire beauty, and beauty has two dimensions: philo-
sophical and mystical. Beauty, as a divine principle, has a close relation with
110  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
Table 2.4 Suhrawardī’s Triad of Beauty, Love and Grief (Ḥusn, ʿIshq, Ḥuzn) and
ʿAndalīb’s Triad of the Rose, the Nightingale and Lamentation (Gul, Bulbul
and Nāla)

knowledge (maʿrifat), perception (idrāk) and wellness (nīkī). Suhrawardī fur-


ther articulates: “if you contemplate accurately, you will find that all people
are demanding to obtain beauty with effort. However, obtaining beauty, the
object of desire (maṭlūb), is exceedingly difficult since this is impossible unless
through love.”89 Love is the only way through which to reach beauty and it is
beauty that leads to love, thus the heavenly triad is formed. A wayfarer should
obtain knowledge of love and submit himself to it, and whoever knows the
truth of love, will find the truth of beauty.
Although this section has mostly dealt with the nightingale and the rose,
before concluding, we ought to briefly consider the third element: lamenting
in ʿAndalīb’s triad, which corresponds to Suhrawardī’s mystical grief (ḥuzn)
and in asceticism results hope (rajāʾ) and fear (khawf), is the sign of a purified
heart. Therefore, we might conclude that at least in part, ʿAndalīb described
his path as khāliṣ and gave the title of nāla to his work because his followers’
lament the weakness of the Muslim community and are thus inspired to reju-
venate the faith. Moreover, it must be considered that khāliṣ refers to the pure
(original) path of the Prophet Muhammad. It can be argued that in his reac-
tion to the religious and social circumstances of his time, he applied the notion
of lamentation in the title of his masterpiece in order to benefit from the
image of the constant weepers (al-​bukkāʾūn) and the esteemed place they have
been accorded in early Islam. Although sadness over separation from God is a
staple of Persian Sufi poetry, thus lamentation in his Sufism has more recent
parallels than the period of early Islam, it can be assumed that ʿAndalīb also
had in mind the role of weepers. As previously discussed, ʿAndalīb claimed
to be an uwaysī, which was not only related to his Naqshbandī affiliation,
but it likewise echoes Ḥasan al-​Baṣrī’s role in spreading the uwaysī mystical
manner. Furthermore, lamenting can also be connected with Ḥasan al-​Baṣrī,
who has been considered a weeper (bukkāʾ) and whose ascetic piety might
also be seen as a form of socio-​political activism that, in the face of the deca-
dence and moral shortcomings of the Umayyads, attempts to preserve the
Prophetic ethics and increase the faith. From this perspective, lamentation
or grief is not only for fear of God’s wrath, but it is also a critical reaction
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  111
against irreligiosity in his own time. Although identifying a particular group
of mystics as al-​bukkāʾūn is debatable and has mostly been rejected, sev-
eral significant figures in early Islam have been mentioned as al-​bukkāʾ, and
among them we find none other than Abū Bakr, who is one of the main fig-
ures in ʿAndalīb’s Sufism.90 In support of our assumption about ʿAndalīb’s
attention to the role of the weepers is how he uses the character of Adam in
his narration, whose fame as one of the al-​bukkāʾūn, according to a ḥadīth
narrated by Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq, is considerable.91 His narration of the story of
Adam, which will be discussed in the last section of the final chapter of this
book, empowers the theory of with-​ness and rejects that of same-​ness, two
ideas which relate to the theological debates between the wujūdīs and shuhūdīs.
The essential point to note here is that the understanding of weeping and
grief as expressions of an awareness of distance from God, or with-​ness, is
what lamenting in ʿAndalīb’s thought means.92

The Lament, the Love Story and Travel on the Path of Love
The love story between the nightingale and the rose is a key metaphor for
expressing the relationship of the human being with the Creator.93 Aʿlam
explains that since it is difficult to distinguish between female and male
nightingales, poets treat the bird as a perpetually male species, lacking any
females. Based on this point of view, their imaginative minds create the
nightingale’s longing for the rose.94 This point is important for understanding
why ʿAndalīb chose the nightingale and the rose for his mystical thought
during a time when struggles with the Wujūdīs were perceived as threatening
Islam itself. Different perspectives have been taken toward the nightingale’s
love: first, it has been considered as superficial and transitory, such as in
ʿAṭṭār’s presentation in Manṭiq al-​ṭayr. Therein, the nightingale is not a true
lover, since it is a captive in the world of appearances. For ʿAndalīb, this char-
acteristic displays the earthly aspect of the nightingale/​Prophet.95 The second
perspective belongs to those who consider the nightingale as the most per-
fect lover. Their paradigm describes the nightingale as a “disheartened lover”
(bīdil), a “miserable lover” (ʿāshiq-​i zār), or “one who is drunk (mast) not with
wine but with love.”96 Thus the nightingale, especially in Persian writings in
India, provides an object which poets can imbue with many dimensions of
metaphorical and real love.97
The plot of the love story in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb provides an opportunity
for ʿAndalīb to explain the esoteric journey, since not only the nightingale,
but nearly all of the characters throughout the work are travelers on a spir-
itual journey. For a wayfarer, the process of spiritual change that has been
conceptualized as a constant ascending movement could be expressed by the
metaphor of the journey. Indeed, this occurs frequently in Sufi works such
as those that explain proper etiquette on the Sufi journey (ādāb-​i safar) or in
stories of mystical travel. For instance, Najm al-​Dīn Kubrā’s (d. 618/​1220)
Ādāb al-​ṣufiyya and Ṣayf al-​Dīn Bākharzī’s (d. 659/​1269) al-​Taṣfiyya fī aḥwāl
112  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
al-​mutaṣawwifa are about appropriate personal conduct along the journey
and also provide instruction as to how the wayfarer can pass through the
stages by observing special Sufi rituals. Among the works which consist of
stories of the mystical journey, Sayr al-​ʿibād ila al-​maʿād by Sanāʾī Ghaznawī
(d.ca. 545/​1150), Ḥayy b. Yaqẓān by Ibn Sīnā (d. 428/​1037) and some works of
Shihāb al-​Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī (d. 587/​1191) such as Qiṣṣat al-​ghurba can
be mentioned. Perhaps the most celebrated literary development of this theme
can be found in three works by Farīd al-​Dīn ʿAṭṭār (d. 617/​1220): Muṣībat
nāma, Ilāhī nāma and Manṭiq al-​ṭayr. The description of a heavenly journey
also constitutes one part of those stories, which are called miʿrāj nāma and
echo the Prophet’s night journey and ascent (miʿrāj). One major early example
of these is Bāyazīd Bisṭāmī’s (d. ca. 261/​874) miʿrāj nāma, which describes his
mystical flight through the heavens. Sajjādī, in his work on the terminology
of Sufism, states that all such texts are the story of self-​discovery and what is
called “sayr wa sulūk,” namely, the journey to one’s inner realm and the state
of one’s soul which, in fact, means directing the attention of one’s heart toward
God.98 Renard asserts that the importance of the metaphor of the journey has
its roots in three divine journeys of the Prophet: “his departure or emigration
(hijra) from Mecca to Medina in 1/​622; the combined experience of the Night
Journey and Ascension; and the pilgrimage to Mecca that Muḥammad under-
took from Medina in 9/​630. Sufi authors have often developed these themes at
considerable length, drawing out their inward meanings as models of various
aspects of spiritual transformation.”99
From a mystic’s perspective, to engage in the journey is to abandon the
mundane here and now, to leave behind indecent habits and blameworthy
attributes in order to obtain praiseworthy attributes and to be purified, to
ascend through the stages (sing. manzil), and to approach nearness (qurb) to
the beloved. When the apparent journey impresses itself on the soul of the
wayfarer and causes its refinement, it becomes an inner spiritual journey.100
In a word, the ultimate goal of any journey is, of course, the “arrival” at
one’s destination, where the wayfarer obtains waṣl and or union with God,
the sīmurgh or the rose.
Returning to Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, it explores not only the external journey,
that is the act of moving from one location to another, the outer voyage (sayr-​i
āfāqī); but it also explains the internal journey, the inner voyage (sayr-​i anfusī),
in accordance with what God states in the Qurʾān: “We will show them Our
signs in the horizons and within themselves until it becomes clear to them that
it is the truth. But it is not sufficient concerning your Lord that He is, over all
things, a Witness?”101
ʿAndalīb organizes the plot of the narrative based on the key metaphor
of the journey in order to describe the development of the human soul. As
it passes through the different stages on the circle of the path divided into
two different directions of movement: the ascending arc (qaws al-​ṣuʿūd) and
the descending arc (qaws al-​nuzūl).102 The dynamic characters in his mys-
tical stories undergo a gradual process of perfection, along with the eventual
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  113
obtaining of divine nearness.103 In other words, the mystic undergoes a trans-
formation between unity (waḥda) and diversity (kathra), union and separ-
ation, intoxication and sobriety, which are metaphors for the four journeys
(al-​asfār al-​arbaʿa) that are discussed in theoretical Sufism.104
These consist of the journey from creation to the Truth (min al-​khalq ila’l-​
Ḥaqq), in Truth with the Truth (fi’l-​Ḥaqq bi’l-​Ḥaqq), from the Truth to creation
with the Truth (min al-​Ḥaqq ila’l-​khalq bi’l-​Ḥaqq) and with the Truth in cre-
ation (fi’l-​khalq bi’l-​Ḥaqq). Such a conception of the mystical journey evolved
over the course of the history of Sufism. The first two parts were known
from the time of the earlier shaykhs, but the last two parts were discussed
after Ibn al-​ʿArabī. Among the Sufi scholars who were inspired by the works
of Ibn al-​ʿArabī and who speak about four journeys were ʿAfīf al-​Dīn al-​
Tilmisānī (d. 690/​1291), ʿAbd al-​Razzāq al-​Kāshānī and Dawūd al-​Qayṣarī.
They elaborated on the thought of Khwāja ʿAbd Allāh Anṣārī by writing
commentaries on his work Manāzil al-​sāʾirīn.105 Later, Mullā Ṣadrā (d. 1050/​
1628) deals with the discussion of a four-​fold journey in his magnum opus,
al-​Ḥikma al-​mutaʿāliyya fī’l-​asfār al-​ʿaqliyya al-​arbaʿa in a philosophical way
which has some differences from the version propounded by the mystics.106
In India, Sirhindī outlined the spiritual journey in four stages and as a
move in vast hierarchical levels of knowledge. For him, the first part of the
journey is the journey toward God (sayr ilā’l-​Allāh) is an ascending arc that
begins from the lowest level of knowledge about creatures, who are the pos-
sibilities (mumkināt), and leads to acquiring knowledge of God, who is the
necessary (wājib). This journey is the act of abandoning all that is other than
God and it is where the Sufi experiences annihilation in God (fanāʾ). The
second leg of the journey is the journey in God (sayr fī’llāh), continuing the
ascent to now move in the divine names and attributes, eventually reaching
a point at which no words are sufficient and where the wayfarer experiences
subsistence (baqāʾ). The third stage of the journey is the journey from God
by way of God (sayr ʿan Allāh bi’llāh), thus beginning the descending arc
from the highest level of knowledge toward the lowest level of knowledge.
It paradoxically entails losing knowledge but while possessing the highest
knowledge. In other words, it is farness in nearness, because the wayfarer is
absorbed in oneness but his attention is simultaneously directed to multipli-
city. The last stage is the journey in things (sayr fī al-​ashyāʾ), since the way-
farer regains the knowledge of things that he lost during the first journey.
The first two journeys are connected to wilāya while the latter two are related
to nubuwwa, since the wayfarer finally reaches the station of the call (maqām
al-​daʿwa), inviting others to experience the same realizations he has under-
gone.107 Wilāya denotes intimacy with God, and as Buehler has explained,
it has two degrees. In the first journey, knowing the manifestations of the
divine names and attributes comprises “minor sainthood” (wilāyat-​i sughrā)
and leads to the state of ecstasy (sukr) and the understanding of waḥdat al-​
wujūd. The second journey is related to “major sainthood” (wilāyat-​i kubrā),
the understanding of waḥdat al-​shuhūd and the Prophet’s companions were in
114  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
this stage. Two later journeys are beyond the circle of wilāya as a return to this
world and are associated with nubuwwa. The last journey is to have an ordinary
life after obtaining “a transformed understanding of the phenomenal world”
and having “acquired the knowledge of corporeal things as things.”108 The
stages of journeys must be considered in conjunction with three degrees of
mystical knowledge: the knowledge of certainty (ʿilm al-​yaqīn) obtainable by
reason, which is “intellectual perception of the Unity of Being,”109 the vision
of certainty (ʿayn al-​yaqīn), which is the understanding of the unity of vision
and finally, the truth of certainty (ḥaqq al-​yaqīn), which is the ultimate degree
of nearness and unity while realizing duality and distance.110
Regarding the first part of the journey in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, the route of
the protagonist’s journey extends from Arabia to India. The first stage of the
journey begins when, in the Love-​Increasing Garden, the protagonist falls in
love. By only hearing the gardeners describe the beloved, he was imparted with
divine inspiration (ilhām). This event is the starting point for the movement
from corporality to spirituality. The nightingale steps onto the path of pain
on the way to Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain, where he intends to go in
order to meet his beloved. By suffering, he controls the lower soul and puri-
fies himself from egoism, moral corruption and blameworthy traits. The story
demonstrates the change in the human being that can be initiated by a meta-
phorical love with external divine manifestations. It is the beginning of the
movement toward human perfection. This love leads the lover to abandon the
external dimension (ẓāhir). By and large, the plot moves from worshipping
beauty (jamāl parastī) to monotheistic worship (yiktā parastī). As previously
explained, in the first part of the journey, creation acts as a series of veils that
conceal the beloved, but in each meeting with the ethereal beloved, the lover
sees divine manifestation and a sign of divine beauty.
The second stage begins when Mihr Jahāngīr becomes human again under
the influence of the spell-​breaking jewel, the mystical prophetic knowledge
available in Turan, the homeland of the Naqshbandiyya. He begins to attract
the beloved’s manifestations and he sinks into her beauty. He tastes a tem-
poral union with her wherein his state is peaceful and he finds spiritual equi-
librium. However, Mihr Jahāngīr remembers his father and wants to return
to his homeland, Arabia. Arabia is a poetic simile whereby ʿAndalīb reflects
his feelings about the birthplace of sharīʿa in Islam. Arabia is a symbol of
external religiosity.111 The nightingale falls overboard into the sea and is
tormented by the resulting separation from his beloved.112 Since the union
that he had attained was not true essential union, it was not the end of the
way, but was a prerequisite for obtaining subsistence (baqāʾ) with the divine
beloved.113 The first two journeys, which together comprise the ascending
arc, are thus brought to an end. The nightingale searches for his beloved in
the endless desert, which is the external journey in which the lover-​wayfarer
becomes free of worldly desires. The movement toward the true beloved could
be described as a flight toward ascendancy. The nightingale sees all the signs
of the beloved and becomes intoxicated as in the second journey, where the
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  115
powerful divine manifestation acts as a veil from seeing all that is other (cre-
ation) than his beloved. He invites others to believe in his beloved through
the divine signs. In this stage, many people join him, among them his four
companions, and he attains the state of wilāya. He approaches his beloved
in India and, now deserving to receive divine revelation, he finally meets his
beloved without any veils, thus meaning that he has achieved the truth of cer-
tainty (ḥaqq al-​yaqīn), corresponding to the level of prophecy. According to
the three classified degrees of gnosis, before reaching union with the beloved,
or the Truth, and gaining the truth of certainty (ḥaqq al-​yaqīn), when the
nightingale came to know that Shāh-​i Shāhān was actually the rose, he held
the knowledge of certainty(ʿilm al-​yaqīn). When the rose manifested as the
Shāh Parī, the nightingale had the vision of certainty (ʿayn al-​yaqīn) that is
the result of vision.
When the nightingale travels back toward Arabia, it represents a return to
the world, the descending arc. This journey indicates observing the sharīʿa
after reaching the end of ṭarīqa. The nightingale has the state of with-​ness
(maʿiyya) with God, and the state of being sober after the intoxication of
the previous stage. In this stage, he has the status of prophethood, a perfect
man, who guides all in accordance with their abilities. According to the eleven
principles of the Naqshbandiyya, he has obtained the state of travelling in
the homeland (safar dar waṭan)114 along with the state of solitude in the crowd
(khalwat dar anjuman),115 since although he is apparently separated from his
beloved, he is inherently in union. This is called the separation after union
(farq baʿd al-​jamʿ).116 Since he reached the highest grade of spirituality, baqāʾ
which is the final goal of the path of love, the protagonist came to possess
the spell-​breaking jewel, to know the greatest divine name (ism al-​aʿẓam) and
to become the vicegerent of God, the pole of poles (quṭb al-​aqṭāb).117 The
narrative ultimately ends in India, the east of existence, a symbol of inner
religion, or the place of ḥaqīqa and maʿrifa, Table 2.5.
In conclusion, this section was an attempt to discover the inner layer of
key personalities in ʿAndalīb’s narrative. ʿAndalīb’s sending his imaginary fig-
ures on mystical journeys is not the mere representation of the development
of the human soul in the ascending and descending arcs, but it is indeed the
application of various metaphors, allegory, legends and historical archetypes
to signify the esoteric character of the Prophet Muḥammad at the center of
his mystical path, the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya. The following discussions will
be focused on applying literary analysis of the text to establish a link between
the narrative and the needs of the Muslim community of India at the time.

Table 2.5 Movement from the beginning to the end


116  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
Notes
1 In ʿAndalīb’s work, the mystical geography is restricted to Hindustan and the
Deccan, Iran, Turan (Transoxiana, in central Asia), Iraq, Arabia, and Rūm (Asia
Minor and Anatoly) in the west.
2 It can be assumed that ʿAndalīb was inspired by an incomplete story in the
sixth book of Rūmī’s Mathnawī, the Consciousness-​ Snatcher fortress (Dizh-​
i Hūsh Rubā), and he named the mysterious mountain in his narration after
Rūmī. Regarding Rūmī’s work, see Jalāl al-​Dīn Humāʾī, Tafsīr-​i Mathnawī
Mawlawī: Dāstān-​i Ghalʿih Hūsh Rubā (Tehran: Āgāh, 1356Sh./​1977).
3 The “lote tree of the furthest boundary.” Qurʾān 53:14.
4 The ʿaqd al-​ukhuwwat here reminds us of the brotherhood between the Prophet
and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib.
5 The notion of al-​insān al-​kāmil was elaborated in Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Sufism and later
in al-​Jīlī’s work that discusses the perfect man’s status in the relationship between
divinity and humanity.
6 Ṣuḥba or companionship refers to discipleship and benefiting from the guidance of
a master.
7 Shaṭḥiyyāt are Sufi utterances in the state of ecstasy (wajd), in which Sufi has no
self-​awareness. This state is in contrast to the state of sobriety (ṣahw), in which the
Sufi awakens after the annihilation and intoxication.
8 The stage of qurb is profound proximity and nearness to God.
9 Faqīr has no need of anything other than God.
10 The ṣūrat parastī (“idol worshipping”) refers to ʿishq-​i majāzī (“a metaphorical
love”) in contrast to ʿishq-​i Ḥaqīqī (“a true love”) that is related to maʿnā parastī
(“worshipping the truth behind the appearance”).
11 It refers to two practices in Sufism: sayr-​i anfusī is within oneself while sayr-​i āfāqī
is in the world and among creation.
12 This refers to Qurʾānic verses. See Qurʾān 51:22–​23.
13 Technically, the jihād al-​akbar refers to all struggles for inner purification. It is
symbolized in the classification of jihād and the term of jihād al-​aṣghar (“the lesser
struggle”) is used for physical combat against outer enemies.
14 Samāʿ is a mystical musical recital often accompanied with dance.
15 Kharq-​i ʿādat is performed by a spiritual master that shows his supernatural ability.
16 Taṣarruf is a master’s spiritual control over his disciples’ souls and thoughts.
17 He was like a prophet, who describes God for the people and then the people
believe in God.
18 The elixir of love changes the people’s personalities and the lover changes, stage by
stage, proceeding from human love to divine love.
19 Here the rose is described as God, who cannot be recognized through His influ-
ence and the manifestation of His attributes in the world.
20 Shām refers to Damascus and it particularly refers to Syria.
21 ʿAndalīb describes the rose, as a female ruler, with the word king (shāh) instead of
the queen (malaka).
22 Jābulqā and Jābulsā are two legendry cities related to the controversial belief
in the green Island (Khaẓrāʾ) in Shīʿa ḥadīth where the twelfth Imam lives. As
al-​Ṣaffar Qummī in Baṣāʾir al-​darajāt explains they are located in eastern and
western sides of the earth. Ghaemmaghami states in his paper, page 140, that
in Baṣāʾir al-​darajāt it has been narrated that “the Imams describe the arcane
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  117
cities of Jābulqā and Jābulsā at the eastern and western most corners of the earth
inhabited by archetypal believers who appear to be part tellurian and part angelic
yet enjoy mystical communion with all the Imams while awaiting the appearance
of the Qāʾim.” Omid Ghaemmaghami, “To the Abode of the Hidden One: The
Green Isle in Shiʿī, Early Shaykh, and Bahāʾī Sacred Topography,” in Unity in
Diversity: Mysticism, Messianism and the Construction of Religious Authority in
Islam, ed. Orkhan Mir-​Kasimov (Leiden Boston: BRILL, 2014), pp. 137–​177.
23 It should be mentioned that the miracle of Ghulām-​i Khākī was in fact, a divine
book from which he read verses and invited others to obey the mandates of Shāh-​
i Jinn wa Ins. He answered their questions on such matters as determinism and
authority, the divine names and attributes, and the relation between the creator
and his creatures. He often spoke of the two cities of Jabulqā and Jabulsā as well as
of Jannat Naẓīr Island. His driving purpose was to help people in attaining God’s
presence.
24 The state of all-​comprehensiveness of signs and manifestations (jāmiʿ-​i jamīʿ-​i
tajaliyyāt) is attributed to the perfect man who manifests all divine names that are
divided into the names of beauty (asmāʾ-​i jamālī) like the Generous (al-​Karīm)
and the names of majesty (asmāʾ-​i jalālī) like the Compeller (al-​Jabbār).
25 Profound mystical contemplation relies on divinely bestowed knowledge and spir-
itual intuition. Mystical perception is only directly or indirectly accessible through
mystical literature. The rhetorical sophistication of mystical writings rendered the
nature and language of these texts considerably difficult to penetrate. See ʿAbd al-​
Ḥusayn Zarrīnkūb, Arzish-​i mīrāth-​i ṣūfiyya (Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1378 Sh./​1999),
pp. 157–​158; ʿAlī Zīʿūr, al-​Kirāmat al-​ṣūfiyya wa al-​usṭūra wa al-​ḥulm (Beirut: Dār
al-​Ṭalīʿa li al-​Ṭibāʿa wa al-​Nashr, 1977), p. 131. Regarding the genre of dāstān,
see Annemarie Schimmel, A History of Indian Literature (Wiesbaden: Otto
Harrassowitz Verlag, 1973), p. 203. This has been noted by the tenth-​century Sufi
writer Abū Naṣr al-​Sarrāj (d. 378/​988), who acknowledges that the wayfarer might
learn mystical discipline and etiquette from the quoted anecdotes and didactic
stories of Sufis. ʿAbd Allāh b. ʿAlī al-​Ṭūsī al-​Sarrāj, al-​Lumaʿ fī al-​taṣawwuf, ed.
R.A. Nicholson (London: Luzac & Co., 1914), p. 168. The ineffable nature of
mystical experience along with the avoidance of expressing controversial mystical
concepts, which were the targets of assault from orthodox parts of the Muslim
community, forced Sufis to rely on the pliability of language in an aesthetically
appealing manner. Thus seemingly straightforward, words found lofty meanings
in a supernatural atmosphere in Sufi texts in which all imagined objects, person-
alities, events and even body parts held an ambiguous and mysterious metaphor-
ical sense in order to represent transcendent concepts. The mystical literature
benefits from the aesthetic presentation which is called in Persian the language
of “apparitional imagination” (ṣuwar-​i khayāl), referring to the art of poetry.
See Muḥammad Riḍā Shafīʿī Kadkanī, Ṣuwar-​i khayāl dar shiʿr-​i Fārsī: Taḥqīq-​i
intiqādī dar taṭawwur-​i īmāzh-​h́ā-​yi shiʿr-​i Pārsī wa sayr-​i naẓariya-​yi balāghat dar
Islam wa Iran (Tehran: Muʾassasa-​yi Intishārāāāh, 1358 Sh./​1979).
26 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 5. On the meaning of “allegory,” Pūr
Nāmdāriyān states that in Persian, the word “dāstān” is a proper equivalent
for “mithal” in Arabic. See Taqī Pūr Nāmdāriyān, Ramz wa dāstān-​hā-​yi ramzī
(Tehran: Intishārāt-​i ʿIlmī wa Farhangī, 1368 Sh./​ 1989), p. 115. For more
discussions, see also p. 189.
27 Qurʾān 14:25, quoted in ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 875.
118  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
28 Qurʾān 22:73, quoted in ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 876.
29 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 5.
30 Concerning the discussion of mystical language in Sufi literature, see Zīʿūr, al-​
Kirāmat al-​ṣūfiyya, p. 131.
31 Animals have played a particularly noticeable role in mystical literature since
mystics, according to Muḥammad Mustamlī Bukhārī (d. 434/​1042), believe that
in His omnipotence, God has given parts of His knowledge to all animals and
creatures. See Abū Ibrāhīm Ismaʿīl b. Muḥammad Mustamlī Bukhārī, Sharḥ al-​
taʿarruf li madhhab al-​ṭaṣawwuf, ed. Muḥammad Rawshan (Tehran: Asāṭīr, 1366
Sh./​1987), p. 703. Based on such an idea, these wise poets and authors use both
characterizations in preaching and teaching ethics. In Islamic tradition, using
animal characters and fables can be traced back to the first masterpiece of Arabic
literary prose, Kalīla wa Dimna, which was originally an ancient Indian collection
of animal fables that was translated into Arabic by Ibn al-​Muqaffaʿ (d. 139/​756
or 142/​759). Kalīla wa Dimna is a collection of animal fables in which animals
serve to represent human qualities. See Ibn al-​Muqaffaʿ, Kalila wa Dimna: Fables
from a Fourteenth Century Arabic Manuscript, trans. Esin Atıl (Washington,
DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1981).
32 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 6.
33 Joseph L. Henderson, “Ancient Myths and Modern Man,” in Man and his
Symbols, ed. Carl J. Jung (New York: Anchor Press, 1964), p. 149.
34 Mircea Eliade, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, trans. Willard R. Trask,
Bollingen Series LXXVI (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1974),
pp. 477–​482, quoted in Carl W. Ernst, “The Symbolism of Birds and Flight in the
Writing of Ruzbihan Baqli,” in The Heritage of Sufism, ed. Leonard Lewisohn
(Oxford: One World, 1999), vol. 2, p. 355. Regarding the role of birds in mystical
literature, see ʿAlī Asani, “Birds in Islamic Mystical Poetry,” in A Communion of
Subjects: Animals in Religion, Science and Ethics, ed. Paul Waldau and Kimberely
Patton (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), pp. 171–​172.
35 Charles Chedvik, Symbolism, trans. Mahdī Saḥābī (Tehran: Markaz, 1375 Sh./​
1996), p. 15.
36 See Ibn Sīnā’s al-​Qaṣīda al-​ʿayniyya and Risālat al-​ṭayr, quoted in Ernst, “The
Symbolism of Birds,” p. 353.
37 See Afẓal al-​Dīn Badīl Khāqānī Shirwānī, Dīwān-​i Khāqānī Shirwānī
(Tehran: Arasṭū, 1362 Sh./​1983), pp. 31–​34; trans. Peter Lamborn Wilson and
Nasrollah Pourjavady, The Drunken Universe: An Anthology of Persian Sufi Poetry
(New Hampshire: Pathway Book Service, 1999), pp. 119–​129.
38 See Henry Corbin, Avicenna and the Visionary Recital, trans. Willard R. Trask
(Berkeley: Black Oak Books Holdings Corp, 1980), pp. 165–​203; Muḥammad
Jawād Mashkūr, introduction to Manṭiq al-​ ṭayr by Farīd al-​Dīn ʿAṭṭār, ed.
Muḥammad Jawād Mashkūr (Tehran: Khusraw, 1347 Sh./​1968), pp. xxxi–​xlii.
39 Ernst, “The Symbolism of Birds and Flight,” p. 366. Compare the discus-
sion with Renard, The A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Bird.” See Manabu Waida,
Encyclopedia of Religion, edited by Mircea Eliade and Charles J Adams, s.v.
“Birds” (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1987); William K. Mahony,
Encyclopedia of Religion, s.v. “Flight,” quoted in Ernst, “The Symbolism of Birds
and Flight,” p. 355.
40 Sīmurgh literally means “thirty birds” in Persian, but it refers to an extraordinary
mythical bird.
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  119
41 Generally, the term bulbul refers to three types of birds under the genus luscina.
“Bulbul,” EIr.
42 Different poetical epithets point out the bulbul’s harmonic songs in Persian lit-
erature. For examples of such epithets, see Muḥammad Pādishāh Shād, Farhang-​i
Ānandrāj, s.v. “Bulbul” (Tehran: Khayyām, 1335 Sh./​1956), quoted in “Bulbul,”
EIr. Schimmel states: “the nightingale tells of its longing, and sings hymns from
the Qurʾān of the rose (i.e., its petals).” She refers to Iqbal, for whom the longing
for union with the rose is the main achievable state of the bird. The soul bird’s
unrest inspires the bird to sing, whereas the fulfillment of union with the rose leads
him to be silenced. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, p. 307.
43 The bulbul brings glad tidings of spring. See Abū Muḥammad Muṣlih al-​Dīn
b. ʿAbd Allāh Saʿdī, Gulistān, ed. Ghulām Ḥusayn Yūsufī (Tehran: Khwārazmī,
1368 Sh./​1989), p. 17, quoted in Aʿlam, “Bulbul,” EIr.
44 In Persian literature, the nightingale is famous as a storyteller, who knows a
thousand stories (hazār dāstān). Firdawsī (d. ca. 401/​1020), author of the epic
Shāhnāma, chose a nightingale to tell one of the main stories of his work,
“Rustam and Isfandiyār.” See Abū al-​Qāsim Firdawsī, Shahnameh: The Persian
Books of Kings, trans. Dick Davis (New York: Penguin Books, 2007), quoted in
“Bulbul,” EIr.
45 A comprehensive study about the symbolism of the red rose is available in
Schimmel’s work. She refers to Rūzbihān Baqlī who links the rose to religious
experience of the divine; Muḥammad’s “vision of God is a vision of clouds of
roses, the divine presence fulgent as a marvelous red rose.” Schimmel, Mystical
Dimensions of Islam, p. 299. She writes that Rūzbihān Baqlī quotes from the
Prophet: “Red rose is from the beauty of God, whoever wants to see God tell him
see the red rose.” Whenever the Prophet saw a red rose, he kissed it and pressed it to
his eyes and recognized in the rose something of divine beauty and majesty. Ibid.,
Stern und Blume: Die Bilderwelt der Persischen Poesie (Wiesbaden: Sammlung
Harrassowitz, 1984), p. 137. See Rūzbihān Baqlī Shīrāzī, Sharḥ-​i shaṭḥiyyāt, ed.
Henry Corbin (Tehran: Ṭahūrī, 1360 Sh./​1981), p. 153. Schimmel refers to the
belief that the rose was created from a drop of the Prophet’s perspiration. Ibid.,
“The Celestial Garden in Islam” in The Islamic Garden, ed. Richard Ettinghausen
and Elisabeth MacDougall (Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks, Harvard
University, 1976), p. 31. Furthermore, in non-​Islamic sources like the Book of
Exodus, the divine manifestation of God for Moses was likewise described as a
fiery-​colored rose. Exodus 3:2.
46 Renard, A to Z of Sufism, s.v “Rose”; Annemarie Schimmel, As Through a
Veil: Mystical Poetry in Islam (New York: Columbia University Press, 1982), p. 59.
Schimmel writes that “the rose’s severity is seen in its thorns, which prick the hand
of any who long to hold it; and in actuality, the thorn is a symbol of the difficulties
on the path of love. The rose is coquettish; it is all nāz (conceit and coquetry) while
the nightingale is all niyāz (needfulness).” Ibid., Mystical Dimensions of Islam,
p. 291.
47 “Gol O Bolbol,” EIr. Muṣṭafā is an epithet of the Prophet Muḥammad. See the
discussion in Julia Scott Meisami, Medieval Persian Court Poetry (Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987), pp. 286–​296. Regarding the rose as a
mystical metaphor in Khāqānī’s thought, see Khāqānī Shirwānī, Guzīda ashʿār-​
i Khāqānī, ed. Ḍiyāʾ al-​Dīn Sajjādī (Tehran: Shirkat-​i Sahāmī-​i Kitāb-​hā-​yi Jībī,
1377 Sh./​1998), pp. 1–​45.
120  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
48 Descriptions of the rose can be found in many pages of ʿAndalīb’s work, such as
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 100; vol. 2, pp. 102, 118, 415–​416, 686, 689, 739, 876.
49 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 869.
50 ʿAndalīb says that some call her a charmer, or the caliph of Allāh as well as the
shadow of God, thus making her God’s exemplification. See ibid., vol. 2, p. 739.
51 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 790.
52 Rūzbihān Baqlī Shīrāzī, ʿAbhar al-​ʿĀshiqīn, ed. Henry Corbin and Mūhammad
Muʿīn (Tehran: Manūchihrī, 1366 Sh./​1987), pp. 25, 100.
53 Schimmel, And Muhammad Is His Messenger, p. 192.
54 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 61. Both are famous Sufis who gave up lives
of luxury for spiritual pursuits. For more information about Ibrahim b. Adham,
“Ibrahim Adham,” CGIE. Russel Jones, Hikayat Sultan Ibrahim ibn Adham
(Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1985). For a study of the life and thought
of Abū al-​Fawāris Shāh ibn Shujāʿ al-​Kirmanī, see Farānak Jahāngard, “Zindigī
wa āthār-​i Shāh b. Shujāʿ al-​Kirmānī wa ṭabagha bandī-​yi Sukhanān-​i ū,” in
Gawhar-​i Gūyā, 17 (2011): pp. 75–​98.
55 Karīm Zamānī, Sharḥ-​i mathnawī maʿnawī (Tehran: Intishārāt-​i Iṭṭilaʿāt, 1378
Sh./​1999), vol. 1, p. 72. Besides the story of the nightingale, ʿAndalīb uses the
symbol of the king in other stories as well, for instance, in the story of Shāh wa
kanīzak whose title calls to mind a story in Jalāl al-​Dīn Rūmī’s Mathnawī, in which
ʿAndalīb depicts a king who displays all of the divine attributes of both beauty
and majesty.
56 Many of the great shaykhs have often been likened unto kings, who have authority
over all inhabitants of the world. Thus, they have been addressed as Shāh (“King”)
and their khānaqāhs have been described at their court. Since they are the perfect
man and annihilated ones in God, they have strong control over their own souls.
Susan Bayly, “The South Indian State and the Creation of Muslim Community,”
in The Eighteenth Century in Indian History: Evolution or Revolution?, ed. P.S.
Marshal (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 230.
57 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 712.
58 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 676. He believes that in either case, one can encounter the other
directly. Thus he finds an opportunity to explain mystical ideas about wealth and
poverty, the stage of deprivation and abundance. See ibid., vol. 1, pp. 53.
59 Ibid., vol. 2, 430.
60 See Francis Joseph Steingass, Comprehensive Persian-​ English Dictionary, s.v.,
“Bulbul” (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publisher, 1996), quoted in
“Bulbul,” EIr. Renard adds that it also refers to the angel Gabriel. See Renard, A
to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Nightingale.”
61 Ernst, “The Symbolism of Birds and Flight,” p. 358. See Rūzbihān Baqlī, ‘Abhar
al-​‘āshiqīn, p. 20, and see p. 120.
62 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 364.
63 Ibid.
64 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 55. The nest of the sīmurgh in Ḥikmat-​i
Ishrāqī is the lote tree (sidrat a-​muntahā’), which is mentioned in Qurʾān 53:14.
It is in the seventh heaven and the Prophet Muḥammad was the only one who
went beyond this tree during the miʿrāj. This tree is named the first intellect
(ʿaql-​i awwal) and the sīmurgh is the active intellect (ʿaql-​i faʿʿāl). See ʿAlī Sulṭānī
Girdfarāmarzī, Sīmurgh dar qalamraw-​i farhang-​i Iran (Tehran: Mubtakirān, 1372
Sh./​1993), pp. 223–​224. For a description of the sīmurgh in ʿAttar’s works, see
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  121
Annemarie Schimmel, The Triumphal Sun (Albany: State University of New York
Press, 1993), p. 103. See the discussion about the sīmurgh in “Sīmorḡ,” EIr.
65 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 884.
66 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 857.
67 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 72–​73.
68 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 101.
69 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 868.
70 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 76; vol. 2, p. 353.
71 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 318.
72 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 823, 876.
73 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 641, 902.
74 Qurʾān 7:188, quoted in ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 353.
75 Qurʾān 18:110, quoted in ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 56.
76 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 57.
77 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 641.
78 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 709.
79 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 89.
80 ʿAlī Akbar Dihkhudā, Lughat nāma, s.v. “Shāh muhra” (Tehran: Intishārāt-​i
Dānishgāh-​i Tehran, 1372 Sh./​1993).
81 Ibid., s.v. “Jām-​i Jam.”
82 Jaʿfar Sajjādī, Farhang-​i iṣṭilāḥāt wa taʾbīrāt-​i Fārsī, s.v. “Jām-​i Gītī namā”
(Tehran: Ṭahūrī, 1379 Sh./​2000).
83 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 429–​430.
84 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 100.
85 The lamenting nightingale of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is comparable with the reed of
the Mathnawī. In the latter, the song of the reed is called the lamentation of the
reed. The reed is a symbol for the soul, the perfect man, the poet, the reality of
Muḥammad and the Pen. See Zamānī, Sharḥ-​i mathnawī, vol. 1, pp. 48–​49.
86 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 901.
87 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 823.
88 See Ṭāhira Kamālī zāda, “Mabānī-​yi ḥikmī-​yi ḥusn wa ʿishq dar Risāla-​yi fī ḥaqīqa
al-​ʿishq-​i Suhrawardī,” Jāwīdān Khirad, no. 2 (1389 Sh./​2010): pp. 29–​44.
89 Shihāb al-​Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī, Majmūʿa muṣannafāt, ed. Hossein Nasr
(Tehran: Muʿassisa Taḥqīqāt-​i Farhangī, 1372 Sh./​1993), vol. 3, pp. 284–​285.
90 Abū Nuʿaym Iṣfahānī, Ḥilyat al-​awliyāʾ, vol.1, p.30. Regarding the role of al-​
bukkā’ūn in Sufism, see William C. Chittick, “Weeping in Classical Sufism,” in
Holy Tears: Weeping in the Religious Imagination, ed. Kimberley Christine Patton
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005), p. 133.
91 Muḥammad b. Aḥmad Qitāl Nishābūrī, Rawḍat al-​wāʿiẓīn, trans. Maḥmūd
Mahdawī Dāmghānī (Tehran: Niy, 1366 Sh./​1987), vol.1, p.281. According to
this ḥadīth, Faṭima, ʿAlī b. Ḥusayn Zayn al-​ʿĀbidīn, Jacob and Josef are called
al-​bukkāʾūn.
92 Based on Chittick, “Weeping appears as the natural response to human awareness
of distance from the Creator, who is the source of all being, good, consciousness,
joy.” Chittick, “Weeping in Classical Sufism,” p. 138.
93 For the imagery of love in Persian poetry and the use of love poetry by Sufis, see
J.T.P. de Bruijn, Persian Sufi Poetry: An Introduction to the Mystical Use of Classical
Persian Poems (Richmond, VA: Curzon, 1997), pp. 51–​83; J.E.B. Lumbard, “From
Hubb to Ishq: The Development of Love in Early Sufism,” Journal of Islamic
122  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
Studies 18, no. 3 (2007): pp. 345–​385; Carl W. Ernst, “The Stages of Love in Early
Persian Sufism: From Rābiʿa to Ruzbihān,” in Classical Persian Sufism: From
its Origins to Rūmī, ed. L. Lewisohn (London and New York: Khaniqahi
Nimatullahi Publications, 1993), pp. 435–​455.
94 F. Hüe and R.D. Étchécopar, Les oiseaux du Proche et du Moyen Orienṭ
(Paris: Editions N. Boubee & Cie, 1970), pp. 631–​ 637, 796–​
797, quoted in
“Bulbul,” EIr.
95 ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-​ṭayr, ed. Ṣādiq Gawharīn (Tehran: Shirkat-​i Intishārāt-​i ʿIlmī
wa Farhangī, 1365 Sh./​1986–​1366/​1987), p. 42. In Manṭiq al-​ṭayr, the nightin-
gale is totally engaged with the love of the rose. SeeʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-​ṭayr, p. 48,
quoted in Annemarie Schimmel, A Two-​Colored Brocade (Chapel Hill, NC and
London: University of North Carolina, 1992), p. 179. On this theme, some poets
make a comparison between the nightingale and the rose with the moth and the
candle (shamʿ wa parwāna). See “Bulbul,” EIr. The Sufi poet Ḥazīn Lāhījī (d.
1180/​1766) believes that the nightingale laments and complains on the path of
love, while the moth, who is a true lover, is silent and does not complain. Riḍā
Qulī Khān Hidāyat, Riyāḍ al-​ʿārifīn, ed. Nuṣrat Allāh Furūhar (Tehran: Amīr
Kabīr, 1388 Sh./​2009), p. 68.
96 “Bulbul,” EIr.
97 Renard, A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Nightingale.” Regarding similarity between the rose
and the nightingale and fire and ash in seventeenth-​century Turkish literature, see
“Bulbul,” EI2. Additionally, the continuity of poetic usage of the nightingale and
the rose demonstrates the dynamic capacity of these metaphors for transitioning
from superficial meaning to profound spiritual meaning. Pourjavady refers to the
use of the words bulbul nāma and gul u bulbul within the titles of Persian, Turkish
and Indian manuscripts. He believes that the works he mentions as examples
were very popular in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. See ʿAlī Gīlanī Fūmanī,
“Bulbul nāma,” ed. Nasrollah Pourjavady, Nāma-​yi Farhangistān, no. 17, Tehran
(2004): pp. 5–​62. Pourjavady suggests that referring to other works with the title
of bulbul nāma can be helpful: Farīd al-​Dīn Aṭṭār, Majmūʿa-​yi āthār-​i Farīd al-​
Dīn ʿAttar Nīshābūrī: Pand nāma, Bī sar nāma, Bulbul nāma (Tehran: Sanāʿī,
1362 Sh./​1983); Muḥammad Faḍlī, Gül u bulbul, das ist: Rose und Nachtigall, ed.
and trans. Joseph Hammer-​Purgstall (Leipzig: Hartleben, Conrad Adolf, 1834).
98 Sajjādī, Farhang-​i iṣṭilāḥāt, s.v. “Safar.” On mystical miʿrāj, see Ibn ʿArabī’s
account of his own miʿrāj in ­chapter 367 of the Futūḥāt. See James Winston
Morris, “The Spiritual Ascension: Ibn ʿArabī and the Miʿrāj Part I,” Journal of
the American Oriental Society 107, no. 4 (1987): 629–​52.
99 Renard, A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Journey.”
100 ʿAbd al-​Karīm al-​Qushayrī, Tarjuma-​yi risāla-​yi Qushayriyya, ed. Badīʿ al-​
Zamān Furūzānfar (Tehran: Intishārāt-​i ʿIlmī wa Farhangī, 1374 Sh./​ 1995),
p. 488.
101 Qurʾān 41: 53.
102 According to William Chittick’s explanation, the Arabic word for arc or bow
is qaws. The “two bow[-​lengths]” are mentioned in Qurʾān 53:9 and denote
the Prophet’s proximity to God during the miʿrāj. In Sufism, the movement of
the wayfarer on the path is described with reference to these two arcs. First is
“the descending arc” (al-​qaws al-​nuzūl) and all that is other than God has trav-
elled this arc, since they are created and led away from God. The second is “the
ascending arc” (al-​qaws ṣuʿūd), that is the path of the return to God and the
Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World  123
restoration of the luminosity of the soul. See William Chittick, Uncovering the
Secrets of Consciousness: The Sufi Approach, presented in The Fifth Victor
Danner Memorial Lecture, Indiana University, April 13, 2007, www.indi​ana.
edu/​~nelc/​eve​nts/​docume​nts/​dann​er_​l​ectu​re_​2​007.pdf (accessed April 13, 2016);
idem, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta, s.v. “Ibn
Arabi,” 2014, http://​plato.stanf​ord.edu/​entr​ies/​ibn-​arabi/​ (accessed February 2,
2015). Chittick explains, “On the descending arc, the world of images allows
spirits to become embodied, and on the ascending arc it allows bodies to become
spiritualized because each ascending step indicates a higher spiritual rank.”
103 Zīʿūr, al-​Kirāmat al-​ṣūfiyya, p. 131.
104 Sajjad H. Rizvi, Mulla Sadra and Metaphysics: Modulation of Being (London
and New York: Routledge, 2009), p. 30. The discussion among mystics about
these journeys can be traced in Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Risāla al-​asfār ʿan natāʾij al-​asfār.
105 ʿAfīf al-​Dīn al-​Tilmisānī, Sharḥ-​i manāzil al-​sāʾirīn-​i Khwāja ʿAbd Allāh Anṣārī
(Qum: Bīdār, 1371 Sh./​1992); ʿAbd al-​Razzāq Kāshānī, Sharḥ-​i manāzil al-​sāʾirīn,
ed. Muḥsin Bīdārfar (Qum: Bīdār, 1372 Sh./​1993); Dawūd al-​Qayṣarī, Sharḥ-​i
Tāʾiyya Ibn al-​Fāriḍ (Beirut: Dār al-​Kutub al-​ʿIlmiyya, 1425/​2004).
106 Mullā Ṣadrā, al-​Ḥikmat al-​mutaʿāliyya fī’l-​asfār al-​ ʿaqliyya al-​arbaʿa
(Qum: Maktaba al-​ Muṣtafawiyya, 1368 Sh./​ 1989). See Dāwūd Ḥasan Zāda
Karīm Ābād, “Asfār-​i arbaʿa dar ʿirfān-​i Islāmī,” Ḥikmat-​i ʿIrfānī 1, no. 2 (1390
Sh./​2012): pp. 9–​39.
107 Aḥmad Sirhindī, Maktūbāt, vol. 1, no. 144, cited in Qurbān ʿIlmī, Marẓiya
Bāghistānī, Maʿṣūma Fatḥī, “Sayr wa Sulūk-​i ʿIrfānī dar Andīsha-​yi Shaykh Aḥmad
Sirhidī,” Faṣlnāma muṭāli‘āṭī shibh-​i qārra Sīstān wa Balūchistān, no. 25 (1394 Sh./​
2015): pp. 45–​68, pp. 52–​53. See Friedmann, Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, pp. 46–​47.
Compare the debate with Arthur Buehler, Revealed Grace: The Juristic Sufism of
Ahmad Sirhindi (1564–​1624) (Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae, 2011), pp. 37–​38.
108 Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet, p. 123.
109 Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, p. 368.
110 Ibid.
111 For more information about ʿAndalīb’s feelings concerning Islamic lands, see
ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 107.
112 In mystical literature, drowning in the sea is a metaphor in which the wayfarer
abandons the body and the entirety of his sensual desires at the seaside in order
to be annihilated in the beloved (God). Renard says: “God and his various
attributes (such as love and mercy) are often likened to the ocean in which the
lover is lost.” See Renard, A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Drowning.” The sea is essentially
the symbol of purity and the sacredness of man—​when water cleanses dirtiness.
See Qurʾān 8:11. The result is self-​purification and thus the soul gets closer to the
divine beloved.
113 The terms fanāʾ, baqāʾ, sukr, and ṣaḥw are discussed as parts of the concept of
the mystical journey. Concerning the meaning of baqāʾ, see Renard, A to Z of
Sufism, s.v. “Abiding.” He explains it as the
Arabic term for one of many important concepts developed to describe
subtle aspects of mystical experience, typically paired with its polar opposite,
annihilation (fanāʾ). Abiding (baqāʾ) refers to the paradoxical experience of
surviving an encounter with the divine, a meeting that, according to some
theorists, means the destruction of the “self ” or individual personality and
124  Narratives: Doorways into ʿAndalīb’s Mystical World
at the very least means the cessation of self-​awareness. Others adopt an
ethical interpretation, suggesting that abiding refers to the perdurance or
survival of praiseworthy attributes in an individual once the negative qual-
ities have vanished. The term appears in some listings of stations and states,
but theorists who emphasize the more generalized aspects of this pair of
concepts (abiding and annihilation) do not so categorize them.
114 It is the third stage in Naqshbandī Sufism that entails giving up human qualities
and replacing them with divine qualities.
115 In the fourth stage, the wayfarer is constantly engaging with in spite of having an
ordinary life.
116 The stage of abiding (baqāʾ) is to view God in creation. This is “spiritual survival
in the wake of mystical experience.” Renard, A to Z of Sufism, p. 262.
117 The latter is used in Sufi Shiʿism for the Mahdī, who is the axis of time (quṭb al-​
zamān). The concept must be considered with the status of the al-​insān al-​kāmil
and walī and the concept of al-​ghawth (“the helper”). See “al-​Ḳuṭb,” EI2.

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3 Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-​yi
Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya

Origin and Principles of the Khāliṣ Muhammadiyya


This section is an attempt to understand the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
as proffered by ʿAndalīb, as well as to consider his own prominent role in the
situation of the Muslim community. Returning to the context to understand
the dimensions of his path covered here, ʿAndalīb renounced the Mughal court
during a time of upheaval and under the influence of Naqshbandī Mujaddidī
teachings to demonstrate his objection to domestic political fragmentation
along with the religious policies of the Mughal Empire with regard to clashes
between Muslims and non-​Muslims and controversies between Shiʿa and
Sunni. His denunciations were a response to what he felt was a need to recon-
struct the Muslim community that was formed during the life of the Prophet.
This was to be accomplished through a mystical approach that would allow
him to influence all aspects of society, ranging from personal life to politics.
Briefly, his path was shaped to fill what he felt was a vacuum brought about by
a lack of religiosity, morality, and spirituality within the community.
ʿAndalīb was explicitly not a political Sufi theoretician like Sirhindī and
Shāh Walī Allāh, though he did not ignore the importance of political issues
in the situation of Muslims. It is argued here that a religious color was lent
to the long-​ lasting political conflicts between Muslims and non-​ Muslim
powers: including Rajputs, Sikhs, Jats, and Marathas; which sometimes led
to reconciliation and sometimes to bloody wars. For instance, among the
succeeding rulers, Farrukh Siyar (r. 1124/​1713–​1131/​1719) reconciled with the
Rajputs and Marathas, but he had bloody struggles with the Sikhs in 1128/​
1716 in Delhi.1 It was not only the emperor’s policy, but also the political
affinities of kingmakers that brought about such conflict. One example is the
case of the Sayyid brothers, who relied on the service of various religious
denominations in running the administration and who weakened Mughal
nobility, Turanians and Iranians, who shared a common cause with the
Sunni Muslim ʿulamāʾ.2 ʿAndalīb lived in a time in which even Muḥammad
Shāh’s (r. 1131/​1719–​1161/​1748) tolerant policies toward Hindus, as exempli-
fied by his abolition of jizya (religious taxation on non-​Muslims) and cow
slaughter,3 could not extinguish the fire of conflict which led to disturbances

DOI: 10.4324/9781003228899-4
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  129
like the shoe-​sellers’ riot in Delhi in 1141/​1729. Therein, an argument between
two shoe-​sellers in a bazaar, namely a follower of ʿAndalīb’s master Pīr
Muḥammad Zubayr and a Hindu, erupted into widespread conflict between
Muslims and non-​Muslims. Such events in that time provoked a fury of Sunni
Turanian protests in defense of their faith and its followers.4
Thus ʿAndalīb developed the path of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya as a
reaction to inter-​religious disputes, including the Shiʿi-​Sunni conflict, which
were not merely religious but also consisted of political competition as
well.5 Controversial literature in the eighteenth century drew attention to the
conflicts and contradictions among Muslim theologians who debated over a
variety of theological principles. Moreover, many historical works written in
the eighteenth century depict the Sunni-​Shiʿi conflict as having been every-
where, from khānaqāhs and madrasas to bazaars and houses.6 Howarth, in
his study of Shiʿism from the Deccan to Awadh, explains that Shiʿism was the
official religion of the ʿĀdil Shāhī rulers (r. 894/​1489–​1097/​1686) in Bijāpūr
and the Quṭb Shāhī rulers (r. 923/​1518–​1098/​1687) in Golconda. In 1687,
Aurangzeb’s Sunni army defeated the Quṭb Shāhī but 33 years later, ʿĀṣaf
Jāhī rulers (r. 1132/​1720–​1367/​1948) gained the power and were followers
of the Quṭb Shāhī’s Shiʿa tendency. Later, the centre of Shiʿism moved from
the Deccan to northern India and particularly to the Shiʿa-​ruled province of
Awadh (r. 1034/​1722–​1272/​1856).7 The Mughal Empire was surrounded by
the Shiʿi Ṣafavids (r. 907/​1501–​1135/​1722) in the west and the Shiʿi kingdom
in the Deccan in the south and thus the gradual influence of Shiʿi thought and
rituals on the court was inevitable. The Ṣafavid dynasty held influence over
the sayyid families like the Sayyids of Bārha as well as those families claiming
Persian origin.8
To understand the status of ʿAndalīb’s Sunni Turanian family and his
intellectual background, it must be explained that the Mughal court was
divided between three groups according to their land of origin and religious
affiliation: the native or Hindustani elites, Iranians who were mostly Shiʿa,
and Turanians from Transoxania who were mostly Sunni and belonged to
Sufi orders, generally the Naqshbandiyya.9 Each group struggled against
the others to gain royal support, and likewise, the royals fomented hostilities
between these groups to maintain their authority. The reigns of Muḥammad
Shāh and Aḥmad Shāh can be considered from the perspective of sectarian
conflicts. Allegiances could shift dramatically, for instance, an emperor such
as Aḥmad Shāh supported the Turanian Sunni Intiẓām al-​Dawla in order to
suppress powerful Shiʿi courtiers. This policy led to increasing conflict, such
as when Turanian ʿulamāʾ issued a fatwa to kill Shiʿas in Shāhjahānābād as
innovators.10 The next emperor, Shāh ʿĀlam II (1759–​1806), turned his support
toward the Shiʿas and had paid great attention to rituals in Muḥarram,11 but
when Aḥmad Shāh Abdālī invaded India, many Shiʿas were killed.12 Among
Naqshbandīs, Aḥmad Sirhindī’s reaction was influential, since he began
a movement against innovative Shiʿism in Jahāngīr’s time and he wrote a
book, Radd al-​rafāʾiḍ.13 During the reign of Aurangzeb (r. 1068/​1658–​1118/​
130  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
1707), who was a strict adherent of Sunni Islam, the atmosphere in Delhi
was charged with Shiʿa–​Sunni animosity.14 In contrast, after the accession of
Bahādur Shāh, the power of many Sunni Turanians decreased as the emperor’s
Shiʿa sympathies further stoked Shiʿa–​Sunni hostilities.15 Major examples of
inter-​religious calamities of that time were the massacre of 2,500 Shiʿas by
Sunnis some years later at Ḥasanābād, near the capital of Kashmīr,16 along
with the massacre of the above-​mentioned Sayyid family at Jansath in 1149/​
1737 in Muẓaffarnagar.17 Regarding the latter, the Sayyid brothers came to
be thought of as Shiʿa18 who led native Hindustani elites and played a major
role in religious conflicts during the reign of Farrukh Siyar. The anti-​Sayyid
lobby of Niẓām al-​Mulk Āṣaf Jāh which overthrew the Sayyid brothers
was interpreted as a conflict between Shiʿism and Sunnism in Delhi.19 The
advocates of the Sayyids compared them with Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī, who was killed
along with his family in Karbalāʾ. For instance, Mīr ʿAbd al-​Jalīl Bilgrāmī (d.
1141/​1729) described Ḥusayn ʿAlī Khān as Ḥusayn of India.20
From a historical analytical perspective, according to Malik, the activities
of certain Sunni Sufis in this context can be understood as a revival movement
and as resistance against the steadily growing Shiʿi political strength in North
India.21 Rizvi considers the situation in Delhi and Awadh to have been one
of explicit antagonism between the leaders of the two main forms of Indian
Islam.22 The refutation of Shiʿism continued among Sunni scholars and
ʿAndalīb’s contemporary, Shāh Walī Allāh wrote ʾIzālat al-​khafā ʿan khalāfat
al-​khulafāʾ, an influential work that inspired Shāh ʿAbd al-​ ʿAzīz (d. 1239/​
1824) to write Tufḥa al-​ʾithnā ʿashariyya many years later.23 In closing, in
light of the foregoing background, ʿAndalīb, on the side of the Sunni and
Turanian nobles, witnessed sectarian strife and bitter competition between
different factions.
Furthermore, ʿAndalīb’s motivation for resigning his military appointment
and pursuing his mystical vocation lies in what he saw as the ethical failure
and behavior of his contemporaries, from the rulers to the public. ʿAndalīb
devoted himself to reviving the Prophet Muḥammad’s ethics and sought to
enable a return to an idealized community within the framework of the eth-
ical concept of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya. He criticizes the eth-
ical fall of the Muslim community under the guise of stories. In this way,
he is successful in avoiding explicit criticism. Although his text shows how
he evaluates the behavior of Mughal kings and other personalities, since he
avoids obviously referring to his surroundings and mentioning the rulers and
his contemporaries by name, some points from other research are helpful in
perceiving his ethical environment. During the decline of the Mughal Empire,
its heirs were immersed in the enjoyment of sensual pleasures. They were
famous for indulgent behavior and blatant disregard for Islamic moral rules.
As the historian Chaurasia notes, they “could hardly act as worthy custodians
of public interest or maintain the integrity of the empire.”24 Other scholars
confirm this point of view with concrete examples. For instance, Richards
reports that Jahāndār Shāh (r. 1124/​1712–​1125/​1713) and his wife, a daughter
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  131
of a court musician, violated decorum with a controversial display of drunk-
enness and amorousness.25 As Schimmel relates, the emperor and his wife
shocked the people of Delhi after desecrating the shrine of Chirāgh-​i Dihlawī
by bathing naked in its pool. Among the members of the royal family there
were some opponents who staunchly criticized the behavior of Jahāndār
Shāh, such as Aurangzeb’s daughter Zīnat al-​Nisā (d. 1133/​1721).26 The moral
laxity continued among other heirs to the Mughal throne. Muḥammad Shāh
was negligent of his duties, devoting much time, energy, and resources to the
enjoyment of sensual pleasure. Irvine maintains that his addiction to wine and
women were weaknesses that allowed his favorites, the women and eunuchs of
his harem, to influence him and to interfere in public affairs.27
As Irvine believes, this deterioration in the character of emperors resulted
in the decline in the character of the ruling class and nobility, since the
emperor failed to appoint meritorious persons to important positions and was
not qualified to supervise them in administrative affairs.28 Ikram points out
that the courtiers lacked in discipline and that their most outstanding traits
were laziness, shirking of duties, greed, and cruelty.29 Additionally, Chaurasia
refers to the demoralization and disintegration that could also be observed in
the imperial army. The soldiers, who could not be paid in time, plundered the
bazaars, kidnapped Hindu women, drank wine and had no concern for the
security of the public or the punishment of criminals.30

Al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī in ʿAndalīb’s Vision


ʿAndalīb founded the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya by claiming to have
had a vision in which al-​Ḥasan bestowed intuitive knowledge (maʿrifa) on
him.31 Al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī (d. 50/​670) was the first grandson of the Prophet
Muḥammad and the son of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib (d. 40/​661) and Fāṭima (d.11/​
632). In Shiʿi belief, he is the second imam and one of the five most holy
persons among the Prophet’s household (ahl al-​bayt) and the “people of the
mantle” (ahl al-​kisā). The exact date of ʿAndalīb’s vision is unclear, but since
the notion of the path of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya is the major theme of
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, which he composed in 1153/​1741, Schimmel estimates that
the vision must have occurred during the 1730s.32 ʿAndalīb himself does not
explicitly mention this vision in his works, but instead only mentions having
received divine inspiration (ilhām). This divine inspiration or vision provided
the prerogative for ʿAndalīb to establish his own path.
Regarding what transpired in the vision, Mīr Dard’s description in ʿIlm
al-​kitāb can be cited here. Mīr Dard writes that ʿAndalīb chose to remain
mute, staying in his cell, locking the door and giving up worldly ties and all
corporeal attachments. The people of his house met him only at the times for
ṣalāt and followed him in prayer. After one week, ʿAndalīb left the cell and
concluded his spiritual retreat (khalwa). Mīr Dard was the first person that he
saw because he impatiently observed his father and waited for him behind the
door of the cell. By hailing him with “O Muḥammadī!,” ʿAndalīb gave tidings
132  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
and said that he was blessed by divine patronage. He had been with the spirit
of al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī during the entire length of his retreat. Al-​Ḥasan infused a
special connection (nisba), which can be interpreted as a specific type of rela-
tionship with the Prophet Muḥammad, into his heart and he received a high
honor for passing on this connection to others and the umma. He claimed that
this connection began with him and that it will be completed with the advent
of the Mahdī.33
What was the reason that al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī appeared in ʿAndalīb’s vision and
what caused ʿAndalīb to establish the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya under
al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī’s authority? To answer this question, some characteristics
of al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī as he is depicted in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb must be taken
into consideration. ʿAndalīb represents al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī through the char-
acter called Khushbū (“sweet smelling”), whose brother is called Khushgū
(“sweet speaker”). These two were the sons of the nightingale, whose char-
acter represents the Prophet, and Khushbū and Khushgū are in fact famous
appellations which call to the minds of the audience the personages of al-​
Ḥasan b. ʿAlī and al-​Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī (d. 61/​681) because of the Prophet having
said, “al-​Ḥasan and al-​Ḥusayn are my sweet smelling flowers from the world.
Whoever likes me should like them.”34 ʿAndalīb says that both brothers are
essentially identical with the nightingale, in the same way that the Ḥasanayn,
that is al-​Ḥasan and al-​Ḥusayn, are identified with the Prophet because of
their ancestral relationship with him.35 They are under the training of Bī
Naẓīr, whose character calls to mind ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib. ʿAndalīb symbolically
explains that:

Khushbū and Khushgū are fruits of the pomegranate tree from which
the nightingale was its seed. He is the essence of creation, the “Reality
of Realities” (Ḥaqīqat al-​Ḥaqāyiq), the “First Entification” (Taʿayyun al-​
Awwal) and the “Reality of Muḥammad” (Ḥaqīqat al-​Muḥammadiyya).
The seed budded under the influence of God’s power and a sapling grew
when the seed had a liking for multiplicity. Therefore, the seed and the
sapling both have the same essence. The nightingale is the root, Bī Naẓīr
is the trunk, and the nightingale’s other vicegerents are the branches and
leaves who serve as the ladder to reach perfection.36

In ʿAndalīb’s story, the nightingale took the crown of poverty (tāj-​i faqr) from
his own head and placed it on that of Khushbū while also bestowing upon
him the Muḥammadan banner. There is a noteworthy point here: Khushbū
is the true heir of the nightingale’s crown of poverty and the Muḥammadan
banner, which respectively symbolize his mystical knowledge and the sharīʿa.37
This demonstrates the superiority of Khushbū, as some reports indicate the
Prophet’s slight preference toward al-​Ḥasan over his brother, al-​Ḥusayn.38 By
inserting some historical information around Khushbū, ʿAndalīb emphasizes
the strong link between Khushbū’s fictional character and the historical figure
of al-​Ḥasan. He says that when Khushbū became vicegerent after Bī Naẓīr,
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  133
Sarfarāz, who reminds the reader of Muʿāwiya b. Abī Sufyān (d. 60/​680),
revolted against him in Shām and claimed to rule over the territory. Later,
Khushbū was murdered by poisoning and his brother launched a rebellion
against Sarfarāz’s successor, ʿAlamdār, who reminds the readers of Yazīd
b. Muʿāwiya (d.64/​683). The revolt was cruelly suppressed. ʿAndalīb also
refers to non-​political aspects of the life of Khushbū in an effort to rehabili-
tate the image and reject widespread critiques of the historical figure whom
the character represents, viz., al-​Ḥasan. He asserts that Khushbū’s renunci-
ation of the caliphate, in favor of the interests of the Muslims over Sarfarāz,
was a result of the fact that in his eyes worldly affairs were unimportant.39
Al-​Ḥasan’s fame in Sufism and morality influences ʿAndalīb’s mys-
tical experience. In his Ḥilyat al-​awliyāʾ wa ṭabaqāt al-​aṣfiyāʾ, Abū Nuʿaym
Iṣfahānī (d. 430/​1038) considers al-​Ḥasan to be the spiritual ancestor of the
Sufis and as such, he is sometimes called the imam of Sufis.40 Hujwīrī (d. 470/​
1078) articulates that al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī was profoundly versed in Sufism.41 Al-​
Ḥasan is regarded as the first pole (quṭb) in the Shādhiliyya order and Abū
al-​Ḥasan al-​Shādhilī (d. 656/​1258) claims that his spiritual lineage goes back
to the Prophet through al-​Ḥasan.42 Al-​Ḥasan’s morality was what motivated
ʿAndalīb to have his character imitate the ethical example of the Prophet.
ʿAndalīb was deeply inspired by al-​Ḥasan’s admirable promotion of virtues
such as poverty, piety, magnanimity, nobility, sincerity, a merciful heart,
meekness, tolerance, and generosity. According to the most reliable reports,
al-​Ḥasan is frequently described as the person who most closely resembles the
Prophet and who thus brings to mind his deeds and acts.43 Thus, “the tem-
perament of Muḥammad” (khulq-​i Muḥammadī) is reflected in “the tempera-
ment of al-​Ḥasan” (khulq-​i Ḥasan). ʿAndalīb asserts that if someone attains
virtue and perfection, this dignity can be related to al-​Ḥasan.44 ʿAndalīb takes
advantage of the literal meaning of al-​Ḥasan’s name, as the word ḥasan means
“good,” and he links it to goodness (ḥusn) as a virtue in order to explain the
“temperament of goodness” (ḥusn-​i khulq). This idea has a preexisting foun-
dation in mystical literature in which many authors and poets have played
with the words ḥusn and al-​Ḥasan and enjoyed the ambiguity of ḥusn-​i khulq
and khulq-​i Ḥasan. One such instance can be found when the great Persian
poet Sanāʾī Ghaznawī (d. ca. 545/​1150) describes al-​Ḥasan as: he “who has
ʿAlī’s sword and khulq-​i ḥasan.”45 Similarly ʿAlāʾ al-​Dawla Simnānī says, “See
the perfection of ḥusn in al-​Ḥasan.”46
ʿAndalīb became overwhelmed with al-​Ḥasan’s spirit and through him
with the Prophet. This is because he thinks of al-​Ḥasan as being identical
to the Prophet and as being able to serve as a means for coming to under-
stand the Prophet’s reality. This demonstrates ʿAndalīb’s aspiration for both
his outer and inner life to conform to the words and deeds of the Prophet and
the imams, and for him to be deserving of being the intermediary between
his disciples and the Prophet, as a perfect friend of God (walī-​yi kāmil). In
Islam, experiencing a vision of the Prophet or receiving intuition through the
intermediation of his descendants and companions has been considered the
134  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
most important spiritual accomplishment, since the Prophet says, “whoever
has seen me in a dream has seen the truth because Satan cannot emulate my
appearance in a dream.” According to this ḥadīth, a vision of the Prophet
is an authoritative and reliable source.47 ʿAndalīb’s visionary experience
appointed him to the task of leading and preserving Islam, yet he was not the
first in that age to claim to have had such a vision. His contemporaries also
asserted similar visions, such as Shāh Walī Allāh’s encounter with al-​Ḥasan
in 1731 in Mecca. He claimed that al-​Ḥasan along with al-​Ḥusayn bestowed
the Prophet’s broken reed-​pen and his blessed cloak. This vision along with a
series of other visions could be seen as preparing Shāh Walī Allāh to receive
the spiritual rank of a “preserver of time” (qāʾim al-​zamān) from the Prophet
Muḥammad in a vision that took place in 1732.48 To consider the similarity
between ʿAndalīb and his contemporary, both masters of Delhi sought to
affirm their authority through recourse to direct contact with the Prophet’s
spirituality.49 An allegiance with the Prophet through their visions gave them
the authority to write the guiding books as a way for a long-​lasting guidance
that was not limited to their present teaching circles during their lifetimes.50
Giving such a canonical role to al-​Ḥasan empowers not only the orthodox
side of his thought, but it was also the result of heated sectarian debates and
the ethical dilemmas in Delhi. The vision is related to their main concern,
which was unification during a period of intra-​religious hostility. One poten-
tial explanation for ʿAndalīb’s preferring al-​Ḥasan as a model could be that he
may have had in mind a widely reported ḥadīth wherein the Prophet regards
al-​Ḥasan as a unifier and predicts that al-​Ḥasan would facilitate reconciliation
between two groups of Muslims.51 ʿAndalīb acquires the quality of being the
reviver of al-​Ḥasan’s tenets, since in one ḥadīth the Prophet introduces him as
the true heir of his leadership who would restore Islam and the sunna.52
The vision of al-​Ḥasan does not indicate that ʿAndalīb was a Shiʿa, but
it does show his sympathy for the concept of the imamate. It is rooted in the
Naqshbandī Mujaddidiyya’s respect toward the ahl al-​bayt, in spite of their
rejection of Shiʿism and being adherent of Sunnism. ʿAndalīb believes that
after the death of the Prophet, the periods of vicegerecy (khilāfa), sainthood
(wilāya) and imamate (imāma) succeeded one another. ʿAndalīb’s concept of
the imam is neither identical with that of Sunni believers, who label leaders
of the Friday prayer or eminent scholars as imams, nor with that of Shiʿa
believers, who restrict the imamate to 12 or seven individuals. According to
ʿAndalīb, both groups do not know the truth and each tends toward opposite
extremes. For him, the imamate is specific to Fāṭima’s offspring, who inherited
the esoteric knowledge of the Prophet, and it began 30 years after the
Prophet’s death. At the age of 40, Muḥammad’s grandsons al-​Ḥasan and al-​
Ḥusayn became qualified to manifest the Prophet’s comprehensive perfection
in prophethood (nubuwwa), messengerhood (risāla), vicegerency (khilāfa),
delegation (niyāba), sainthood (wilāya) and imamate (imāma).
In Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, ʿAndalīb explains that al-​Ḥasan and al-​Ḥusayn are
true saints and that each of them demonstrates one of two aspects of the
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  135
Prophet’s perfection: sainthood and prophecy. Therefore, their state is the
state of Khāliṣ Muḥammadī, a high spiritual rank. Al-​Ḥasan’s sainthood is
Aḥmadī (wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī) and Aḥmad (‫ )احمد‬is distinguished from Aḥad
(‫)احد‬, “the sole one,” one of the divine names, by the veil of one Arabic letter
(‫)م‬, representing the entification of spirit (taʿayyun-​i rūḥī). Prophecy and
sharīʿa have primacy in al-​Ḥasan’s knowledge. He obtained the Prophet’s
nearness to God at the closest distance (aw adnā, “or even nearer”).53 Al-​
Ḥusayn’s sainthood is Muḥammadī (wilāyat-​i Muḥammadī) and Muḥammad
(‫)محمد‬
َ is separated from Aḥad by the repeated letter (‫)م‬, representing both the
entification of spirit (taʿayyun-​i rūḥī) and the entification of body (taʿayyun-​i
jasadī). He obtained the Prophet’s nearness to God at a distance of “two bow-​
lengths” (qāba al-​qawsayn). This wilāya is the perfection of imamate and
pertains to the carrying out of laws.54 Therefore, ʿAndalīb is the possessor of
prophetic perfection since, as a Ḥusaynī Sayyid, he inherited wilāyat-​i
Muḥammadī from al-​Ḥusayn, but he also received wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī from
al-​Ḥasan.55

Establishment of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya


According to Mīr Dard, al-​Ḥasan advised him to name his path the Ṭarīqa-​
yi Muḥammadiyya, despite how if following earlier precedents, it would
have been more likely for him to call it the Ṭarīqa-​yi Ḥasaniyya, since it was
al-​Ḥasan who had guided him to establish this ṭarīqa, or the ʿAndalībiyya
after his own name. Nevertheless, al-​Ḥasan rejected separating this path
from the Muḥammadī path, and he is said to have explained the following
to ʿAndalīb:

My son, others have done it and we did not do it. If we wanted, we could
have established in our age a path in our own name like others. We are
sons who are lost in the sea of unity and we are drowning victims in
Baḥr al-​Qulzum (“the Red Sea”). Our name is Muḥammad’s name, our
sign is Muḥammad’s sign, our love is Muḥammad’s love, and our call
is Muḥammad’s call. This path must be named the Muḥammadī path
because it is Muḥammad’s path. We have not added anything to it. Our
way is the Prophetic way, and our path is the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadī.56

Similarly, in Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, ʿAndalīb elucidates why he avoids calling this
path after his own name by saying that he is not an innovator. He considers
this as the first and foremost mistake in the thought of preceding masters,
namely, their seeing their own paths as separate from the Muḥammadan path
and following their own wishes: “If I was like others, this faqīr [“poor one,”
ʿAndalīb is referring to himself in a humble manner] must call and spread my
new path in my own name like them. Then, I would have no reason to con-
fess frequently that this faqīr believes in the same path as the very old straight
Muḥammadan path.”57 Therefore, his vision of al-​Ḥasan along with labeling
136  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
his own teachings as the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya served to legitima-
tize ʿAndalīb’s special status as a true spiritual master.
The next topic here, which still pertains to the naming of the Ṭarīqa-​yi
Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya, opens a discussion about a meaningful definition for
the term ṭarīqa in ʿAndalīb’s usage. The term ṭarīqa bears the meaning of
mashrab, dīn and madhhab, since it denotes a specific method and path which
guides mankind.58 The first point that can be gleaned is that the term ṭarīqa
stresses a direct relationship between ʿAndalīb and the Prophet through a
vision, thus pushing aside the silsila and removing any intermediaries.59 The
second point is that ṭarīqa refers to the practical dimension of Sufism, that
is it extends beyond the lengthy and merely theoretical discussions among
Wujūdīs and Shuhūdīs, namely, it teaches the actual steps to be taken by the
spiritual aspirant. The last point is that since each master has a specific spir-
itual training method, ṭarīqa refers to a specific circle of disciples seeking puri-
fication from immoralities and abandonment of worldly fears. Their goal is to
advance along the path, extend their capacity for receiving divine grace, and
proceed toward the direct presence of God.60
In Sufi Heirs of the Prophet, Arthur Buehler asserts that ʿAndalīb was
the first Indian Sufi to use the label Muḥammadiyya in legitimizing his path,
although it had already been a widely popular title among different Sufi lin-
eages outside of India, for instance, ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad Jazūlī (d. 870/​
1465) was the first Sufi in Morocco who benefited from this title for his path.61
Fazlur Rahman explains that use of the name Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya to
represent a path that is held to be identical with early Islam can be seen as an
effort that has been associated with such labels as neo-​Sufism and mystical
reformist movements.62 R.S. O’ Fahey and Bernard Radtke assert that the
notion of Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya is variously described as, “the substitu-
tion of a mystical union with the spirit of the Prophet for that with God; the
claim to an exclusive authority derived from the Prophet; a summons to polit-
ical activism, or a vaguely-​defined following the path of the Prophet, meaning
a ‘return’ to the sunna and uṣūl al-​dīn.”63

The Straight Path


ʿAndalīb emphasizes that the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya is compre-
hensive since, on the one hand, it is the straight path (ṣirāṭ al-​mustaqīm) that
bridges the gap between both sharīʿa and ṭarīqa.64 On the other hand, it mends
the divide between the different tendencies within Islam to revive the ori-
ginal way of the early Muslim community for his contemporaries. ʿAndalīb
is opposed to separation and disunity among Muslims that root in doubt in
beliefs.65 Such a conviction can be understood from the following verses:

I want to correct the nine books


And to select the manuscript of the Existence
To empty the library of the heart
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  137
line by line from unfitting letters,
to purify the picture gallery of the body, page by page
from the picture of eating and sleeping,
to transform the black book of crimes of the lower soul (nafs)
into the first page of the exordium of good works.66

ʿAndalīb’s rejection of the sectarian divisions within Islam, as well as his


extremely negative view of the situation of his time, is reflected in his likening
the followers of these sects to simians, gorillas, and other animals while
declaring that only his Muḥammadī group consists of real human beings.67
ʿAndalīb mostly directed his criticism against the Sunni and the Shiʿa, and his
grievance against the separation of Islamic society is voiced in the following
verses:

Religion was lost and the misguided of the world remained.


Sinful and opprobrious sects stayed.
Sunni and imami left this world;
Dandānīs and dunbakīs stayed.68

ʿAndalīb refers to the true followers of the Prophet who respect the imams.
He believes that the imamis (referring to the Shiʿa) of his time deviated from
the path of the imams and that they talk about imams without actually having
sufficient knowledge of them.69

O ʿAlī’s son! How long do you talk about Bū ʿAlī?


Shame upon you, one thousand times shame upon you70

He paid special attention toward the matter of the Prophet’s rightful


successor, the starting point of the division in Islam, and as the following
passage demonstrates, he believes in the lofty status of the companions and
the Prophet’s family together:

The Prophet grants his companions (muhājir and anṣār), friends and
offspring and disciples all degrees of the stages of proximity to the
perfections of prophethood, of vicegerency, of sainthood, of imamate, of
wisdom and so on, according to the degree of their annihilation in him,
their association with him, their following of him, their dependence upon
him, their service to him, their close friendship with him, their union with
him, their sincerity and their devotion to him.71

For that reason, ʿAndalīb presents the companions and al-​khulafāʾ al-​
rāshidūn in his story as exemplars for Muslims to turn towards to find the
authentic faith.72 ʿAndalīb believes in the elevated positions of all four caliphs
since the Prophet, who was the caliph of God, nominated a caliph as his
successor. The period of the caliphate began after the Prophet’s death and
138  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
it continued for about 30 years. Al-​khulafāʾ al-​rāshidūn received sainthood
(wilāya) from the Prophet. Following Ibn al-​ʿArabī in attributing different
degrees of sainthood of particular individuals to the prophets who function
as mediators to connect with the perfection of the Prophet,73 the first caliph’s
sainthood is attributed to Michael, the angel of sustenance, as well as to the
prophet Jesus. He was the confidant who was familiar with the divine secrets.
His state was that of trustfulness (ṣiddiqiyya) and friendship (khulla).74 The
second caliph embodied the perfections of prophethood, vicegerency, and
wisdom. His sainthood is attributed to Gabriel, the angel of revelation, and
to the prophets Noah and Moses. The first two caliphs’ prophethood was
higher than their sainthood. The third caliph enjoyed both prophethood
and sainthood equally. His sainthood was spiritual and is attributed to Uriel
(Isrāfīl), the angel of the trumpet, and to the prophet David. The last caliph
had the perfections of imamate and messengerhood (risāla). His sainthood is
attributed to Azrael, the angel of death; Gabriel, the angel of revelation; and
to the prophets Aaron and Jesus. His sainthood had a greater priority over
his prophethood and for this reason, mystics and awliyāʾ (sing. walī) received
sainthood from him.75

Prophecy is regarded as the tree whose roots sprouted from the seed of
reality by those whose religion is authentic;
Abū Bakr is the root, ʿUmar is the foliage, ʿUthmān is the blossom and
Murtaḍā [ʿAlī] is the fruit.76

From ʿAndalīb’s perspective, each of the caliphs contributed to the estab-


lishment of a stable base for Islam: Abū Bakr set up the foundation of the
religion, ʿUmar spread the mission of the religion and ʿUthmān collected and
preserved the sharīʿa by committing the Qurʾān to writing. ʿAlī conveyed the
inner reality of religion, purification of the heart and refinement of the soul
to the Sufi orders.77 The four companions are considered as the four legs of
a throne or are likened to the door, walls, and roof of a house. They demon-
strate the Prophet’s four beautiful attributes of generosity, bravery, justice,
and purity.78 ʿAndalīb’s ideas are based on ḥadīths arguing that the highest
rank is for Abū Bakr and after him ʿUmar, ʿAlī, and ʿUthmān.79 However,
ʿAndalīb asserts that there was no dissension among the caliphs about
succession after the Prophet, and even ʿAlī acknowledged the positions of
Abū Bakr, ʿUmar, and ʿUthmān. ʿAndalīb emphasizes that those who refer to
disagreements want to destroy Islam, such as the Shiʿa who made accusations
against al-​khulafāʾ al-​rāshidūn.80 Hence, the poverty of Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs
is attributed to ʿAlī, their trustfulness to Abū Bakr, their justice to ʿUmar, and
their modesty to ʿUthmān.81
ʿAndalīb declares that the early Muslims were one community (al-​ummat
al-​wāḥida) and the later practice of grouping them into generational divides
does not signify a separation in belief. These groups were the tābiʿūn (“the
followers,” or the direct companions of the companions of the Prophet)
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  139
and the tābiʿū al-​tābiʿīn (the “followers of the followers,” the generation
who came after the tābiʿūn); or alternatively the salaf (the first generation of
Muslims) and khalaf (the second generation of Muslims).82 ʿAndalīb refers
to the Prophet’s prediction about the division of the umma after his death.
He believes that the diversity of schools of law (sing. madhhab) is like an ebb
and flow in the Muḥammadan sea.83 The separation that occurred is the result
of the different ways of understanding Islamic issues according to various
degrees of knowledge (ḥawṣala wa istiʿdād).84 He states that although each of
the Islamic sects considers itself to be perfect and right, only one group can
guide its adherents to salvation.

Seventy-​three sects travelling His path,


They all seek Him in different paths,
The grip of al-​Ḥaqq is in the hand of one sect,
The rest speak to please others.85

The Prophet’s companions are held in high esteem as they enjoyed the benefit
of and were greatly influenced by direct contact with the Prophet. Accordingly,
their personalities and actions become the religious and ethical standard
pattern. They practiced the true meaning of the sunna and they are the most
important sources of ḥadīth. This view reveals their status as mediators for
knowing the Prophet. ʿAndalīb’s verse states:

We are the mirror of him,


if you did not see him come to see us.86

The cited verse shows Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs acting as a mirror that reflects the
companions’ qualities and the virtues of the Prophet’s family. In several places
ʿAndalīb mentions the revered figures of both groups of Muslims together
in order to show that the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya is a comprehen-
sive way beyond any inter-​religious conflicts. For instance, in one place he
asserts that his followers exhibit the good manners exemplified by al-​Ḥasan,
the bravery of al-​Ḥusayn, the virtue of Fāṭima and the wisdom of ʿĀʾisha
bint Abū Bakr (d. 58/​678), the Prophet’s wife.87 Although ʿAndalīb is from a
Sunni background, he nevertheless frequently advises to love the ahl al-​bayt
like a duty, and he exhorts to imitate them and follow the path of the imams.
He believes that the wayfarer cannot directly reach God unless through the
intermediacy of the Prophet and his family.88
Moreover, ʿAndalīb aims to provide a true unification of all denominations
and approaches (sing. mashrab). In this regard, he uses the term assimila-
tion (ikhṭilāt) to refer to the comprehensiveness of his path saying, “My way
and approach is assimilation. My path is all-​encompassing of the status and
states of the different ways and approaches.”89 In this manner, ʿAndalīb
raises the banner of the Muḥammadiyya, removing diversity and calling for
friendship90 and camaraderie along the Muḥammadan path of love (ṭarīqa-​yi
140  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
ʿishqiyya-​yi Muḥammadiyya) saying, “We are seekers of Love and loyalty is
our occupation.”91

Our approach is friendship. Our way is adoration,


We throw the garment of the seventy-​two sects (milla) into the water.92
The way of the nightingale and the approach of the rose signify the
journey on the path of love and are the method of the path of love […]
and can be obtained through the blessing of companionship and lead to
an understanding of [true] knowledge and secrets.93

Therefore, other sects are perishing (hālik) while the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya offers the way to salvation because it is in accordance with
the Prophet’s sunna.94 Since the Prophet is true (bar ḥaqq), the Muḥammadī
path is the safest (aslam).95

I am not misguided, there is only one way towards God,


The sun is one, God is one and the moon is one.96

For this reason, adopting the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī path is seen as obligatory,
as one verse of the Qurʾān advises, “Follow the best of what was revealed to
you from your Lord before the punishment comes upon you suddenly while
you do not perceive.”97 Joining the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya means
being averse to idolatry, to cease following the rituals of the infidels and to be
released from lust and sensual passion.98

The People of the Path


ʿAndalīb aims to clarify the truth of Muḥammadī assemblage (jamāʿat-​
i Muḥammadiya) by discussing the ideas of the 73 Islamic sects. To this
end, his work includes long theological disputes concerning the severe
conflicts between Muslims.99 He called the followers of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya, Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs and aimed to reconsider the concepts
of the “people of the sunna and the community” (ahl al-​sunna waʾl-​jamāʿa) in
order to carefully clarify the authenticity of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs which
goes back to the salaf who are ahl al-​bayt, emigrants (muhājirūn, or Muslims
who took part in the exodus from Mecca to Medina), and helpers (anṣār, or
Muslims of Medina who assisted the Prophet). In other words, the Ṭarīqa-​yi
Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya belongs to the time when all Muslims were united and
Islam was not divided into different sects such as Shiʿa, Sunni, Khārijī, and
Muʿtazilī.100 In order to demonstrate the position of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs
among other Muslims, ʿAndalīb categorizes Islamic sects into five separate
groups: Muḥammadiyya, Ṣiddiqiyya, Murtaḍawiyya, ʿUthmāniyya, and
Ilāhiyya. The Muḥammadiyya are ahl al-​sunna waʾl-​jamāʿa, who respect the
prophet’s companions and the ahl al-​bayt. The Ṣiddiqīs are followers of Abū
Bakr, while the Murtaḍawiyya or Rāfiḍiyya are believers in the superiority
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  141
of ʿAlī on the matter of succession of leadership after the Prophet. The
ʿUthmāniyya or Khārijiyya were adherents of ʿUthmān, and the last group is
the Ilāhiyya, denoting Wujūdī Sufis.101
He claimed that Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs are people who will attain sal-
vation through following the way of the salaf, who held a comprehen-
sive understanding of Islam.102 Here ʿAndalīb clearly separates Khāliṣ
Muḥammadīs from those who are sometimes referred to as ahl al-​sunna
waʾl-​jamāʿa but who have issued judicial decrees contrary to the verses of
the Qurʾān. ʿAndalīb emphasizes that the salaf are also called ahl al-​sunna
waʾl-​jamāʿa or the Muḥammadiyya and that in his opinion, the only simi-
larity between these two groups is their names. As mentioned, he believes
that following the madhhab of the ahl al-​sunna waʾl-​jamāʿa (meaning the
Muḥammadiyya) is the only means of becoming a member of “the Prophet’s
community” (ummat al-​rasūl) and is the true way of understanding the reality
of Islam.103 Furthermore, Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs are “the people of justice”
(ahl al-​ʿadl), as a verse of the Qurʾān says concerning them, “And among
those we created is a community which guides by truth and thereby establishes
justice.”104 Based on this verse, Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs are just in all religious
and worldly practices (sing. muʿāmala) and they express a high regard for the
Prophet’s family. They faithfully affirm the principles of the religion, namely,
the unicity of God, the prophecy of Muḥammad and the truth of the divine
commands and prohibitions.105 Analyzing ʿAndalīb’s descriptions of them
demonstrates a community which seeks after “moral soundness, piety, self-​
sacrifice, royalty and love.”106

Nāṣir (“Helper”)
ʿAndalīb’s feeling that the Muslim community was helpless during his time,
as it had lost its divine backrest in the figure of Pīr Muḥammad Zubayr,
inspired his belief in an individual whom he calls nāṣir (“helper” or “one who
gives victory”). The designation of nāṣir as a specific religious title should be
considered in comparison with the development of the concept of the God’s
vicegerency and wilāya discussed in mystical terms of al-​insān al-​kāmil by Ibn
ʿArabī. The claims to have special spiritual authority as the Prophet’s heir
were represented in different ways like Ibn al-​ʿArabī and his notion of khātam
al-​awliyāʾ (“the seal of God’s friends”), itself reconsideration of al-​Tirmidhī’s
thought. The continuity of the concept in India can be found in the notions of
qayyūm used by Sirhindī or ṣāḥib al-​zamān used by Shāh Walī Allāh. Thus the
idea has been before ʿAndalīb and he might have had in mind some aspects
that the word of nāṣir shares with these terms, like the meanings of helper or
emancipator in the term of ghawth,107 although there is a distinction between
the rank of ghawth and that of quṭb.108 Similarly, the concept must be under-
stood as a contribution in the development of the notion of wilāya that can
be seen in other forms of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya in different parts of
the Islamic world like the role of al-​quṭb al-​maktūm (“the hidden pole”) as
142  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
represented by Aḥmad al-​Tījānī (d. 1230/​1815), as a mediator to convey the
assistance of the Muḥammadan Reality.109
Particularly, ʿAndalīb’s usage of the doctrine of the mujaddid (“renewer”)
as a Naqshbandī Mujaddidī must be examined in representing the rank of
nāṣir. He inherently believes in the idea of there being a need for a mujaddid
based on a famous ḥadīth which declares that every century God will send a
renewer to revive and restore Islam.110 This doctrine is a puritanical approach
to Islam wherein the mujaddid removes all heretical innovative practices
(bidʿa), religious corruption and deviation, thereby uncovering the pristine
teachings of Islam. This is understood as necessary since, over the course of
time, the manner of thinking and lifeways of the people tend to go through
massive transformations. Although he does not actually call himself either a
renewer or a reviver of religion (muḥyī al-​dīn), the status of nāṣir allowed him
to describe his own spiritual rank in a unique way. He deeply believes that the
Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya is inspired knowledge, and that the revival
(iḥyāʾ) of Islam which it calls for will bring about the prosperity of the sharīʿa.
Nāṣir is a divine name and God is described as the best of helpers (khayr
al-​nāṣirīn),111 and the excellent helper (niʿma al-​naṣīr).112 God is the helper
in this very world, as mentioned in the Qurʾān: “Indeed We will help Our
messengers and those who believe during the life of this World and the
Day when the witness will stand.”113 Furthermore, only God gives victory,
since “there is no victory but from Allāh.”114 ʿAndalīb considers the epi-
thet of Nāṣir as one of the 99 names of the Prophet, that attributing the 99
names to the Prophet was rooted in al-​Jīlī’s Kalimāt al-​ilāhiyya fī ṣifāt al-​
Muḥammadiyya, since in this way he bestows a strong relationship to God
on the Prophet whose 99 names parallel the 99 names of God. By naming
himself in the same way, he connected himself to the Prophet as a mystic
who has attained union with him. Furthermore, he used his own epithet of
ʿAndalīb to symbolically describe the protagonist of his work as a refer-
ence to the name of Muḥammad, since according to him, bulbul, another
word for ʿandalīb, is an Arabic name equivalent to Muḥammad.115 The name
Nāṣir does not signify that ʿAndalīb was assigned a mission by God. In fact,
it shows that he is a representative of the Prophet and a mirror of proph-
ethood.116 The combination of nāṣir and ʿandalīb, his pen name, alludes
to ʿAndalīb’s leadership role and his claim of returning victory to Islam.
ʿAndalīb states in this regard:

O the highest [God’s] sphere! How cheerful I am talking!


Each of my hairs became a tongue [to tell] wise points.
In the world, my penname properly became nightingale,
And I am the eulogist for the beauty of the rose-​face witness.117

Madrāsī, in the epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, ingeniously argues that ʿAndalīb’s


high rank as nāṣir/​ʿandalīb was for this reason that from the beginning of
Islam there had not been any nightingales, true mystics, equal to ʿAndalīb in
composing such lovely verse or having such comprehensive knowledge.118 Mīr
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  143
Dard uses the ambiguity between the name of Muḥammad Nāṣir (ʿAndalīb)
and Muḥammad Nāṣir (the Prophet who is also a helper) in the following
quatrain, wherein the Prophet is described as the rose-​face witness:

His holy essence is everywhere every moment


He observes the worldly men everywhere
My hand and the skirt of the Prophet and his dynasty [, I ask for help]
In both worlds Muḥammad is the helper (nāṣir).119
O His holiness Nāṣir! You are present everywhere and you are observer
(nāẓir). We do not pay attention to others. We have no helpers except
your unique essence in both words […].
O You ask whom you have. We have you.
A world is alien and we have only one familiar [friend, who is you].120
His holy essence is everywhere every moment
He observes the worldly men everywhere
I appeal to the Prophet and his family for help
In both worlds Muḥammad is nāṣir (“helper”).121

The cited verses remind us of Rūmī’s poem in which he asserts that the
miraculous name of the Prophet, Aḥmad, delivers light and saves the people
from darkness of ignorance in both worlds. He is like an impregnable fortress
wherein everyone is sheltered:

The Name of Aḥmad gives such help as this, so that (one may judge) how
his Light keeps guard (over his followers).
Since the Name of Aḥmad became (to Christians) an impregnable fort-
ress, what then must be the Essence of that trusted Spirit?122

Mīr Dard affirms ʿAndalīb’s status as the helper of the religion of Muḥammad
(nāṣir-​i dīn-​i Muḥammadī) and the most right imam. He is imam of the
gnostics (imam al-​ʿārifīn), because of the manifestation of the blessings and
lights of the imamate on him; elite of the united (zubdat al-​wāṣilīn), due to his
nearness to God; heir of Murtaḍawī knowledge (wārith-​i ʿilm-​i Murtaḍawī),
since he was a genuine sayyid;123 and author of a book (ṣāḥib-​i kitāb), as he
believed in a distinction between saints who had written a book and those who
had not, similar to the differences among the prophets. Having composed a
book demonstrates that ʿAndalīb is a perfect walī among others, due to his
establishing his own ṭarīqa. He is a manifestation of divine mercy (maẓhar-​i
raḥm-​i ilāhī)124 and a qibla, since he is a great Sufi and the direction to which
Muḥammadans shall turn.125
Mīr Dard uses the name Nāṣir to connect ʿAndalīb to ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib and
Fāṭima, since it was also their cognomen. Muḥammadīs wrote Huwa al-​Nāṣir
(“He is the one who gives victory”) on the top of each writing, a practice
that was held to bring good fortune and blessing.126 The word nāṣir became
a holy source of blessing and divine support for the family. For example, it
144  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
was engraved in ṭughrā style127 on ʿAndalīb’s cane, thus making the object
blessed by that word and they kept this relic as a treasure for many years.
Furthermore, in the naming of children, the family used the word in names
such as Nāṣir Nadhīr and Nāṣir ʿAlī, since they believed that this would bring
divine assistance.128

Khāliṣ Muḥammadī (“Sincere Muhammadans”)


ʿAndalīb grafts the concept of nāṣir onto the concept of Khāliṣ Muḥammadī
to complete his explanation of the spiritual rank of nāṣīr. The Khāliṣ
Muḥammadī is a saint who truly leads the Muslims to the path of the Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya. This naming is similar to his way of referring to Islam
and Muslims as dīn-​i Muḥammadī, Muḥammadīs that minimize the separ-
ation between the head of the path, the path itself and its followers. ʿAndalīb
maintains, with a similarity to Shiʿī belief, that the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī has
an exalted spiritual rank which can only belong to a true descendant of the
Prophet through Fāṭima and ʿAlī, since it can only be transmitted in person,
chest to chest and the status cannot be acquired through other ways like the
written word.129
Any of the literal translations of khāliṣ—​such as pure, uncompounded,
uncorrupted, absolute, complete, unique, genuine, and unvitiated—​could be
close to ʿAndalīb’s intended meaning, but none of these alone entirely cap-
ture it.130 There are several noteworthy details with regard to his descrip-
tion of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī. First, Khāliṣ as an attribute denotes that
the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī follows Islam in its purest form, as the Qurʾān
declares: “Unquestionably, for Allah’s way is pure (dīn-​i khāliṣ).”131 Second,
since ʿAndalīb is regarded as the heir of al-​Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī, the eleventh
imam whose epithet is also Khāliṣ, ʿAndalīb likely chose this name in order
to associate himself with al-​ʿAskarī.132 Third, khāliṣ also refers to sincerity
(ikhlāṣ), which is a quality of spirit in the individual’s relationship with God.
It refers to sincere intention and purification of the heart and deeds from
bigotry, pride, and arrogance. A sincere seeker does not act out of a hope
for reward or fear of punishment.133 Fourth, the Muḥammadī is given the
title of mukhliṣ, in the sense of being “sincere.” Mukhliṣīn, the plural form
of mukhliṣ, are sincere Muslims and wayfarers who believe purely in God
through the Prophet. Yet their state is not stable and they must keep watch
over their words and deeds because Satan tempts them to break their sincerity.
Here ʿAndalīb distinguishes the state of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī from the
state of the prophets, which is the state of being mukhlaṣ, meaning “chosen by
God.” Mukhlaṣīn, the plural form of mukhlaṣ, are prophets who are chosen
servants and have faith in God directly.134 This prophetic state in the Qurʾān
is praised, for example, in the verse about Yusuf; “Indeed, he was one of Our
chosen (mukhlaṣīn) servants,”135 as well as another verse about Moses: “And
mention in the Book, Moses. Indeed, he was chosen (mukhlaṣ) and he was a
messenger and a prophet.”136
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  145
For further elaboration, it must be considered that ʿAndalīb distinguishes
between the seal of the prophets, the seal of the vicegerents, the seal of the
imams and the seal of the saints. The state of prophethood (nubuwwa) came
to an end with the Prophet Muḥammad and the state of vicegerency (khilāfa)
came to an end with ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, the last of the al-​khulafāʾ al-​rāshidūn.
ʿAndalīb believes that the bounty of the perfection of vicegerency was trans-
mitted to the just rulers.137 However, the excellency and accomplishments of
prophethood remained for the umma and will continue until the Resurrection,
through imams and walīs.138 To him, the state of the imamate will be brought
to an end with the Mahdī who inherited the role from the Ḥasanayn and
al-​Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī.139 Next we turn to the relationship between the Khāliṣ
Muḥammadī the Mahdī, who it must be noted is also the seal of the state
of wilāya, which was transmitted from ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib. The knowledge of
perfection became hidden. Thereafter, some of the descendants of Fāṭima
maintained a hidden relationship with the spirit of the Prophet and attained
a special nearness to him.140
Sainthood is divided into general sainthood (wilāyat-​i ʿāmma), minor
sainthood (wilāyat-​i ṣughrā), major sainthood (wilāyat-​i kubrā) and higher
sainthood (wilāyat-​i awliyāʾ). The state of general sainthood belongs to the
wayfarer who is in the process of traveling in the external world (sayr-​i āfāqī)
and who sees the divine signs within creation. The state of minor sainthood
belongs to one who is considered a general saint (walī-​yi ʿāmm). The general
saint is in the process of traveling both inwardly as well as in the external
world (sayr-​i anfusī wa sayr-​i āfāqī) and he sees the divine signs both in him-
self and in the world. The major sainthood is the state attained by a special
saint (walī-​yi khāṣṣ), and this is the position of the prophets who have come to
know all the secrets of the world of divinity as well as the world of humanity
and who have completed both the internal and the external journey. Higher
sainthood belongs to one who is known as the most special, special saint (walī-​
yi akhaṣṣ al-​khawāṣṣ), which is none other than the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī, who
completes sainthood and reaches prophetic perfection. The walī-​yi akhaṣṣ al-​
khawāṣṣ, who is a descendant of Fāṭima, reaches the point of manifesting the
divine Essence through the Prophet Muḥammad.141 Therefore, the state of
Khāliṣ Muḥammadī is the state of trustfulness (ṣiddiqiyya), the high degree of
sainthood (wilāya), and spiritual poverty (faqr).142
The root of ʿAndalīb’s description traces back to Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s words
in which the Muḥammadīs are possessors of prophetic poverty (faqr-​i
Muḥammadī), since they are “destitute (muflis) of everything other than
God.” They have the perfection of poverty in comparison with all other
creations who are “poor (faqīr) toward God.”143 Muḥammadīs have passed
all stations of the spiritual path and have obtained knowledge of all divine
names and attributes. As perfect men, they are “delimited by none” and are
called the possessors of the station of no station (lā maqām). What causes
them to be called Muhammadī is their direct connection with the spiritu-
ality of the Prophet.144 This connection (nisba) gives them authority to be
146  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
poles and true heirs of the Muḥammadī mystical states and the Muḥammadī
sharīʿa. In this way, they are separated from those who use intermediaries of
the prophets in relationship with the Prophet Muḥammad.145 The last point is
that the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī combines sharīʿa and ṭarīqa through observing
religious laws and contributing to the purification of the soul in sulūk. He is
a religious, pious, and ethical person who embodies the Prophet’s behavior,
appearance, and acts.146 ʿAndalīb believes in the permanent presence of
Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs and says that the world will never be empty of Khāliṣ
Muḥammadīs.

The Mahdī and the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī


Islam is preserved by the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī functioning similarly to the
mujaddid and, in a broader scope, to the Mahdī. The role of the renewer fig-
ures prominently in the framework of the Mujaddidiyya and is rooted in the
belief in the need for the restoration of Islam to its pristine purity. Ziad opens
a discussion regarding how the concept of Khāliṣ Muḥammadī is enclosed
within that of the Mahdī. In her comparison between these two concepts,
she notes that both figures obtain hereditary charisma by virtue of being
descendants of the Prophet.147 What allowed for placing the concept of the
Mahdī within a sophisticated Sufi debate is that from a Shiʿa Sufi perspec-
tive, the Mahdī acquired greater mystical stature after being regarded as the
head of the ṭarīqa, or the quṭb al-​aqṭāb or quṭb al-​zamān.148 Further features
shared in common by both the Mahdī and the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī are being
the best of people and the most remarkable amongst the dignitaries of their
time as well as being a reviver of the sharīʿa who will perfect the combination
of sharīʿa and ṭarīqa. To answer the question of who the Mahdī is, ʿAndalīb
refers to different opinions about the notion of the 12 pious successors of
the Prophet and about the identity of the Mahdī, the last of these. The 12
successors are men who practice the sunna precisely and the last of them will
completely embody the sunna. In this point of view, the Mahdī is one whose
death will complete ‘the twelfth death’ of the Prophet. The idea of the “12
deaths” of the Prophet presumes that Muḥammad is still alive. It is for this
reason that the starting point of the lunar calendar is his hijra (exodus from
Mecca to Medina) instead of the date of the Prophet’s death, thus referring
to his permanent presence.149
The question that comes to mind is whether or not ʿAndalīb actually
claims to be the Mahdī. Did ʿAndalīb see himself as having inherited the rank
of being the Mahdī from al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī and al-​Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī? Such an
assumption would be supported by ʿAndalīb’s belief that the profound know-
ledge of imamate and prophethood, which were not hidden at the time of the
saḥāba, tābiʿūn and tābiʿū al-​tābiʿīn, became hidden until the day when some
of the descendants of Fāṭima would obtain this state through a hidden rela-
tionship with the spirit of the Prophet.150 In this regard, Mīr Dard elaborates
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  147
how the knowledge of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī, or knowledge of prophetic
perfection of the imams, had been hidden after al-​Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī and before
ʿAndalīb.151 As already mentioned, ʿAndalīb may have borrowed the word
khāliṣ, one of the epithets of al-​Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī, to refer to himself as one
of his true heirs. From this perspective, the vision of al-​Ḥasan also becomes
significant because some ḥadīths assert that the Mahdī will be descended from
al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī’s offspring.152 As Ziad observes, in ­chapter 366 of Ibn ʿArabī’s
Futūḥāt al-​Makkiyya, this idea is reflected when Ibn ʿArabī describes a des-
cendant of al-​Ḥasan as the seal of the saints.153 Furthermore, in the notion
of qayyūmiyya, the Mahdī is the last mujaddid and a follower of the Prophet
through the last qayyūm, Pīr Muḥammad Zubayr. Thus, this ṭarīqa begins
with the teachings of the greatest of the companions of the Prophet and it
ends with the Mahdī.154
Although the argument that ʿAndalīb saw himself as the Mahdī could be
made, there are some reasons to reject it. First, ʿAndalīb uses ambiguity in
some lines of his work and he attributes the continuity of the imamate to
the Ḥasanayn, al-​Ḥasan and al-​Ḥusayn, through whom his path stretches
back to the Prophet.155 In ʿAndalīb’s point of view, the Mahdī will descend
from the Ḥasnayn’s progeny and he says, “The offspring of those righteous
good temperaments (khush khulqān) will bring the story of this rose garden
to its end.”156 Second, ʿAndalīb explicitly introduces himself as the recipient
of a special connection which would be completed by the Mahdī. Third,
by expressing his faith in the arrival of the Mahdī, ʿAndalīb chronologic-
ally places the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī, or rather himself, before the arrival of
the Mahdī. In the following passage in which the bulbul addresses Khushbū,
the Mahdī along with the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī are both considered to be
al-​Ḥasan’s descendants and both are named Muḥammad or bulbul. Here,
ʿAndalīb draws parallels between the Prophet, himself and the Mahdī:

One of your descendants will come whose name will be the same as my
name. He will lament in the same manner as the nightingale and will teach
the divine knowledge. His path will be the best path and will be called the
path of Muḥammadiyya. Eventually, another of your descendants will
come to complete the true guidance. After him, the world will darken
such as night forever. Autumn will come as a permanent season. No one
will know who the rose was nor how the nightingale cried.157

In the following passage, the nightingale foretells of the emergence of


ʿAndalīb and the Mahdī, both of whom will restore the nightingale’s lamenta-
tion (Islam) and bring spring once more. ʿAndalīb believes that after the mar-
tyrdom of al-​Ḥusayn, corruption and decay increased, as if neglect arose and
no one observed the sharīʿa any longer. However, the spring will be revived
once more, and the nightingale’s vicegerents will remain in the world up until
the Resurrection.158
148  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
Again, the old spring will blossom and a subtle sweet-​smelling flower of
unification (tawḥīd) will bloom. He will disparage all manner of stinking,
thorny, pestilent flowers. The sweet smell of good-​temperament (khulq-​i
ḥasan) will fill the world and will fill all ears with the lamentation of the
nightingale. Spring will come to this rose garden through this beautiful
and perfect flower. The influence of good-​temperament (ḥusn-​i khulq) will
culminate in him and he will collect all of the nightingale’s admirable
qualities. He is the same as a mallow and is the seal of this spring and the
rose garden of God’s power.
Who is he that I am wrapping my talk about him in mystery?
I am composing one hundred quodlibets about him.
He is the Mahdī, my thought is now honest and open
I am speaking of him.159

In sum, the concept of the Mahdī is an important part of ʿAndalīb’s Sufism


in a context that the community suffers from inter-​religious hostilities and dis-
union. In ʿAndalīb’s words, as already mentioned, the diversity of madhāhib
is like an ebb and flow in the Muḥammadan sea. As the tide (diversity) ebbs
away and the Muslim community will eventually reach the point of spiritual
equilibrium (ijmāl) or an undifferentiated mode, as it is to be in the time of the
Mahdī. Therefore, he relates that when the Mahdī comes, the intensity of the
tide will disappear and all sects will be reconciled into one path, since he will
eliminate separation and revive unification.160
To conclude this section, analysis of the term Muḥammadī as an adaptation
from Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s teachings demonstrates the dominance of his influence in
defining the pristine form of Islam, a major theme of ʿAndalīb’s worldview, in
an age of controversies and coexistence between Wujūdīs and Shuhūdīs and
when Islam was in danger of innovations far from Mecca. His use of the word
Muḥammadī to describe his path could be understood to denote that it is pos-
sible for his followers to obtain the highest spiritual status and to have a spir-
itual connection with the spirituality of the Prophet. Being concerned with
representing the straight path can be understood as a reaction to the threat of
Muḥammad Shāh’s religious tolerance toward Hindus as well as the increasing
Muslim/​ non-​Muslim animosity in which Sunni Turanians, like ʿAndalīb’s
family, played an important role. It must be noted that the details of the vision
of al-​Ḥasan derives from Mīr Dard’s narrative and ʿAndalīb himself avoided
elaborating it in his own works. It can be interpreted that ʿAndalīb claimed to
have an uwaysī connection to the Prophet and received the Prophetic know-
ledge that gave him the authority to call his mystical way the Muḥammadī
path. In addition, meeting al-​Ḥasan rather than the Prophet himself is what
most distinguished ʿAndalīb’s vision from those of others. It gave a strong
function to al-​Ḥasan in ʿAndalīb’s Sufism, not only based on his mystical char-
acter as a walī but also his religious importance in those days that Muslim
disputes were increasing regarding the Muḥarram rituals and other Shiʿa/​
Sunni issues. Note that the historical context evinces how the various parts
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  149
of ʿAndalīb’s worldview were shaped against the backdrop of Shiʿa–​Sunni
animosity that was intensified during Aurangzeb’s reign, Bahādur Shāh’s ten-
dency toward Shiʿism and the Sayyid brothers’ usage of Shiʿa affinities during
Farrukh Siyar’s reign. At the same time that Shāh Walī Allāh composed ʾIzālat
al-​khafā ʿan khalāfat al-​khulafāʾ, ʿAndalīb tried to solve the sectarian problems
from a Sufi perspective by clarifying the roles of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib and Abū
Bakr in connection with the Prophet. Therefore, the attempts of both masters
of Delhi must be understood as idealizing the ways of the earliest Muslims
and giving importance to the knowledge of the ḥadīths and the sunna that aim
to find a sincere faith exactly according to what was revealed to the Prophet
Muḥammad, whose central role is the next topic of discussion.

Mystical Prophetology in the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya


The eschatological figure of the Prophet is at the very center of ʿAndalīb’s
worldview. Accordingly, the aim of this section is to examine the relationship
between the mystical representation of the Prophet in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb and
the reconstruction of Islam within the framework of a Sufi-​based reaction
to the social and political context of eighteenth-​century India. This requires
us to keep in mind the previous discussions regarding allegorical narrative
along with its hidden meaning and the metaphorical role of its protagonist,
who travels across symbolic points of Islamic geography from India to
Turan, Iran, Rūm and Arabia to recover Islam and ethics, as well as to bring
judgment, since these are vital elements for regulating worldly life. ʿAndalīb’s
protagonist represents the Prophet, the most trustworthy figure for helping
humanity attain salvation in the hereafter as well as in this life. He considers
the Prophet a mediator between humankind and God in this world and the
next, which explains, socio-​politically, how the state of imitating the Prophet
is reconsidered as demonstrative of his status as the helper of Islam. In doing
so, the many-​faceted character of the Prophet Muḥammad can be understood
in ʿAndalīb’s work as not only an historical figure, but also as an extraor-
dinary individual. Studying his view toward the Prophet within the frame-
work of mystical prophetology turns our attention to the empowerment of
his character as an ideal with a focus on how he is presented in ʿAndalīb’s text.
Such description revolves around Muḥammad as the divine light, the seed of
creation, the beloved and lover of God and the perfect man. Significant in this
regard are the main concepts of maʿiyya and ʿayniyya, which demonstrate
the importance of having a connection with the Prophet’s spirituality that
is exemplified in different ways by Abū Bakr al-​Ṣiddīq and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib
respectively, given their lofty positions in relation to the Prophet.

The Importance of the Prophetic Sunna


The important role of the Prophet is disclosed in ʿAndalīb’s vision and al-​
Ḥasan’s advice that this ṭarīqa be attributed to the Prophet. ʿAndalīb gives a
150  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
central place to the imitation of the Prophet Muḥammad, since God assigned
the Prophet to believers as an ideal to be emulated, as can be seen in the
following verse: “There has been certainly for you in the messenger of Allāh
an excellent pattern for anyone whose hope is in Allāh and the Last day and
(who) remembers Allāh often.”161 Sufis seek to imitate the Prophet’s out-
ward behavior and assimilate his inner reality. In ʿAndalīb’s point of view,
the Prophet’s sunna (i.e., the ḥadīths) works as a touchstone for evaluating all
mystical ideas, in addition to their compatibility with the Qurʾān. Therefore,
a minimum of one ḥadīth should be cited as justification for any such idea
in order to show that they exactly follow the practice of the Prophet.162 The
importance of ḥadīths for ʿAndalīb’s path is attested to when he says, “I have
renounced all paths and I have chosen the path of the Prophet. I do not
practice except according to the Prophet’s words. I turn my attention to his
ḥadīths and I act according to them.”163 His heavy emphasis on ḥadīths and
sunna demonstrates how strongly he believes that the situation of Muslim
society during his time was the result of a lack of religiosity and a diminished
presence of Islam in daily life.164 In the Islamic tradition, ḥadīths and sunna
are considered as second in authority only to the Qurʾān and are seen as cru-
cial for understanding the original pristine Islam.165
From a modern academic perspective, in her work, And Muhammad Is His
Messenger: The Veneration of the Prophet in Islamic Piety, Schimmel asserts
that the Muslim community in eighteenth-​century India was in need of a
model to follow. Thus they looked to historical and religious ideals so as to
venerate and emulate Muḥammad; “The only way open to the beleaguered
Muslims in India was […] to go back to him in hope that in this way the com-
munity might prosper again.”166 As Daniel W. Brown, the author of Rethinking
Tradition in Modern Islamic Thought, believes, the comprehensiveness of the
Prophet’s personality as a caliph, a lawgiver and as a perfect spiritual guide,
makes him a perfect model during a time of insecurity and instability, when
Islam seemed to be defeated everywhere. Such was a response to the Muslims’
need for the helper of Islam and the victorious leader who had previously
guided them to an era of strength and stability.167 Brown believes that Muslims
evoke the Prophet in their own time and space by emphasizing the imitation
of his sunna. In Brown’s words, it is “a concrete embodiment of the need that
Muslims have felt in every generation for continuity with an ideal past.”168
Jamal Malik supports and develops this assumption. He asserts, “the
construction of Muslim histories in India always required and was subject
to the character of the Prophet Muḥammad, who functioned as prime ref-
erence point.”169 Sajida S. Alvi, in her studies about the eighteenth-​century
Indian Sufi scholar Qāḍī Thanā Allāh Panīpatī, points out that during this
time period, “the Prophet as an ideal model found new meaning and resur-
gence.” With the aim of achieving peace and reconciliation among Muslims,
the ahl al-​bayt were reconsidered as intermediators for coming to know the
Prophet,170 and in the case of ʿAndalīb, the status and role of two of the
four righteously guided caliphs, ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib (d. 40/​661) and Abū Bakr
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  151
al-​Ṣiddīq (d. 13/​634), were particularly salient. Thus, in that time of crisis
and degeneration in India, when intellectuals called for the importance of
Muḥammad’s function to rescue the Muslims from their disastrous plight, the
increasing trend of love for the Prophet came to be of central importance in
the Muḥammadiyya.

Theosophical Prophetology and the Light of Muḥammad


Mystical prophetology surrounds the Prophet Muḥammad with innumer-
able qualities of miraculous character. It is an expression of mystical recog-
nition of the Prophet through the use of symbolic words and it situates his
sacred personality at the very center of Islamic piety.171 The use of the term
prophetology here is restricted to its sense within the discourse of Sufism,
since in the study of Islam, prophetology can also refer to Qurʾānic, histor-
ical, philosophical, and theological aspects.172 Major representatives of mys-
tical prophetology include such great and famous Sufis as Ibn al-​ʿArabī, Jalāl
al-​Dīn Rūmī and in ʿAndalīb’s time, Shāh Walī Allāh. The mystical outlook
in prophetology influenced the theoretical perspectives of Sufism in matters
related to theology and cosmology. In the dimension of devotional practice,
it causes Sufism to regulate the relationship of the human being not only with
God, but also with the world, with other humans and with oneself. Discussions
on prophetology within Sufi discourse deal with the issue in different ways,
such as by invoking the notion of the pre-​eternal Reality of Muḥammad,
Muḥammadan Light, Muḥammad’s ascent and descent, the perfect man and
revelation, along with discussions about the priority of prophethood over
sainthood, and so on.
The mystical portrayal of the Prophet is elaborated in the concept of
the Light of Muḥammad (Nūr al-​Muḥammadī), a central theme in mystical
Islamic prophetology. This belief metaphorically refers to the Prophet’s per-
fection and his nearness to God. Many Sufis speak of the Qurʾānic verses and
ḥadīths in which the Prophet is represented as light. Among the earliest mys-
tical commentators on the Qurʾān, the oldest authority for the interpretation
of the theme of light is Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq (d. 148/​795), who in a work attributed
to him, classifies the concept of divine light in different levels, such as the
light of fear, the light of hope, and the light of knowledge. He states that
the Prophet was replete with light, since the most complete understanding
of divine lights belongs to him and others only partly understand the lights
based on their different spiritual capacities.173 The next esoteric understanding
of light as representing the Prophet is given by Muqātil b. Sulaymān (d. 150/​
767), who believes that the Prophet is the “vessel of divine light” (miṣbāḥ)
mentioned in Qurʾān (24:35).174 Later, the concept of the Light of Muḥammad
was completed by Sahl al-​Tustarī (d. 283/​896) in an exegesis on the Qurʾān
attributed to him entitled Tafsīr al-​Qurʾān al-​ʿazīm. He propounds the notion
of the cosmological pre-​existence of the Prophet as light in interpreting
Qurʾān 7:172, asserting that his light was created many thousands of years
152  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
before creation. Al-​Tustarī believes that the light of the Prophet is the origin
of the rest of creation and that the light of the other prophets originated from
his own pre-​existential light.175 In interpreting another verse of the Qurʾān
(25:1), al-​Tustarī declares that the Prophet is to all the worlds a warner, since
he is a lamp (sirāj) and a light (nūr), by which God guides people to follow the
Qurʾān.176 Thus the Prophet was considered as the illuminating lamp (sirāj al-​
munīr) mentioned in the Qurʾān (33:45–​46) that radiates light everywhere: “O
Prophet, indeed We have sent you as a witness and a bringer of good tidings
and a warner. And one who invites to Allāh, by His permission, and an illu-
minating lamp.”177 Ḥallāj was impressed by Sahl al-​Tustarī’s thought, as his
disciple, and in the first chapter of his work Ṭawāsīn, entitled Ṭāsīn al-​Sirāj
and discussing the prophetic lamp, he explains that the Prophet, as sirāj al-​
munīr, is pre-​existent and pre-​eternal (qadīm, or “old”).178
Aside from what has been mentioned in the Qurʾān, some ḥadīths
concerning the Prophet’s status also portrayed him as the primordial light
through which God created the world. In one ḥadīth, the Prophet says, “The
first thing that God created was my light.”179 For Rūzbihān Baqlī, this ḥadīth
confirms the most exalted rank of the Prophet and his priority over all lights,
just as with his priority over all prophets and saints.180 Najm al-​Dīn Rāzī
(d. 654/​1256) declares that the Prophet is the light of the world, and he has
no shadow.181 The belief developed in Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s (d. 638/​1240) mystical
worldview, pre-​eternal cosmic presence of the Prophet was considered as the
sun of existence whose luminous essence nourished the intelligences (sing.
ʿaql), the spirits (sing. rūḥ), the intuitions (sing. baṣīra) and the essences (sing.
dhāt).182
It is worth mentioning that light is of central importance to Shihāb al-​
Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī’s illuminationist philosophy (ḥikmat al-​ishrāq), or the
Ishrāqī School.183 In Suhrawardī’s thought, the sun, that is the king of stars, is
the vicegerent of the Supreme Light of Lights (Nūr al-​Anwār) in the external
world and is the most apparent of the divine signs, the most brilliant star, the
most light-​giving, the great luminous (nayyir al-​aʿẓam), the light producer
(fāʿil al-​nahār) and the first intellect (ʿaql al-​awwal).184 This light of lights (nūr
al-​anwār) is sometimes symbolized by the sīmurgh,185 and ʿAndalīb makes use
of this idea in borrowing some attributes of the sīmurgh in his depiction of the
bulbul. The following verses demonstrate how ʿAndalīb, under the influence
of the concept of light in the Islamic mystical tradition, regards the Prophet
as the manifestation of divine light.

O you whose light is the name of God (bismallāh) of the Qurʾān of


outwardness,
Your body is full of light, and your face is sūrat al-​Nūr
Here you are the guide of the people and their intercessor
O manifestation of the names of the Guiding (al-​Hādī) and the
Forgiving (al-​Ghafūr)!186
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  153
Nevertheless, by naming his hero Mihr Jahāngīr (“World-​Conquering Sun”),
ʿAndalīb brought this imagery down from heaven in order to give it an earthly
human aspect. Referring to the background setting of ʿAndalīb in India, the
sun was an important feature of Akbar’s religious belief.187 For his hero’s
grandfather, ʿAndalīb used Akbar’s epithet, ʿArsh Āshiyān (literary meaning,
“a person who lives in heaven,” in reference to a person whose high position is
near the throne of God). The hero’s birth parallels the birth of Akbar’s son,
Salīm, who was also born under the influence of a Sufi (Chishtī) shaykh and
was later famed as Jahāngīr (“World Conqueror”).188 As sunlight conquers
the world and defeats darkness, ʿAndalīb’s hero conquers the world and
crosses Arabia, Iraq, Rūm, Iran, Turan, and India, thus demonstrating his
vast worldly empire. Likewise, his large number of followers also proves his
great spiritual influence.
The imagery connected with the sun is also related to the imagery of the
stars, thus giving the author an opportunity to draw upon the technical ter-
minology of astronomy and astrology, thereby also displaying his compre-
hensive knowledge of these two fields, but the intention behind using such
terms is to recognize the most controversial ranks of the Prophet’s family and
companions. ʿAndalīb plays with the names and qualities of stars in selecting
the names of characters such as Māh Munīr (“Bright Moon”), and Mushtarī
(“Jupiter”) who are the Prophet’s companions.189 Earlier, many great Sufis,
such as Abū Saʿīd Abu al-Khayr, regarded the companions and family of the
Prophet as stars around him, who is the very soul of Existence.190 ʿAndalīb
uses the moon to illustrate the relationship between the wayfarer and the
perfect man (al-​insān al-​kāmil). The perfection of the soul takes place when
the wayfarer annihilates himself in his Lord, the Supreme Light of Light,
much like how the moon, which is in front of the sun, will be annihilated in
reflecting the light of the sun.

The Seed of Creation


ʿAndalīb’s mystical portrayal of the Prophet Muḥammad considers him
as the seed of creation. Schimmel linked the notion of the seed of creation
in Islamic mysticism with ancient myths of the Cosmic Tree or the Tree of
Life.191 In Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s word, this is called the Tree of being (Shajarat al-​
kawn) or the Muḥammadan tree that illuminates the status of the Prophet
Muḥammad as the perfect man and the microcosm.192 The “Muḥammadan
seed” must be studied in relation with a ḥadīth in which the Prophet says, “I
was the prophet when Adam was between the spirit and the body.”193 The
belief has been represented that Muḥammad is not only the final prophet but
also the first of all the prophets. In other words, the command began with him
and was sealed with him. The ḥadīth is interpreted that Muḥammadan seed
was contained in the loins of Adam and was passed from one prophet to the
next until it came to fruition in the person of the Prophet Muḥammad,194 who
154  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
has spiritual supremacy beyond temporal and spatial constraints because,
according to the Qurʾān, he is the seal of the prophets.195 ʿAndalīb alludes to
this notion in the following verse addressed to the Prophet:

Your name precedes the degrees of man’s positions.


However, you are the last one in the degrees of creation196

Such allusions in the main Islamic sources contributed to the formation of


the concept of the Muḥammadan Light (al-​Nūr al-​Muḥammadī) which has
its roots in mystical thought from around the eighth and ninth centuries,197
and the concept of the Muḥammadan Reality (Ḥaqīqat al-​Muḥammadī),
that came to be among the most important elements of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s mys-
ticism. The mystical notion of the Muḥammadan Reality is a metaphor for
the concept of the Reality of Realities (al-​Ḥaqīqat al-​Ḥaqāyiq), or the First
Entification (al-​Taʿayyun al-​Awwal). It is described as a seed that derived from
the manifestation of the Lord of Lords (Rabb al-​Arbāb).198
In Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Sufism, the meaning of the seed reminds us of the
discussions regarding the Logos which traces back to early Sufis, such as
Hallāj.199 The similarity between Logos and the seed is that the Logos is
regarded as the Hayūlā or al-​Maddat al-​uwlā (“the First Substance”) as the
origin of everything. In terms of the Reality of Muḥammad, the Logos is
“the active Principle in all divine and esoteric knowledge.”200 In addition,
prophets in Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s perspective are logos (“word”) and according
to him they along with saints “have been marked out especially on account
of the fact that they manifest the activities and perfections of the universal
Logos Muhammed in a perfect degree.”201
Accordingly for Ibn al-​ʿArabī, the pure love originated with Muḥammad
as a replica of Himself (nuskhat al-​Ḥaqq). The topic was elaborated by the
next generation of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s school and ʿAbd al-​Karīm al-​Jīlī (d. 826/​
1424), the author of al-​insān al-​kāmil fī maʿrifat al-​awākhir waʾl-​awāʾil, who
believes that only the Prophet has the capability to fully point toward God
and to be the greatest locus for divine manifestation (qābiliyyat al-​kulliyya),
while “other creatures only have a necessarily partial (juzʾiyya) revelatory
ability.”202 Playing with the Arabic words love (ḥubb) and seed (ḥabb) points
to the ḥadīth concerning God being a hidden treasure: “I was a treasure
that was not known, so I loved to be known. Hence, I created the creatures
and I made Myself known to them, and thus they came to know Me.” This
tradition became a major theme in Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s discussions in Futūhāt al-​
Makkiyya about the station of love. John Renard states concerning mystical
love that these Arabic terms in the Sufi tradition focus on “the ‘seminal’ sig-
nificance of love which takes root in the heart.”203 As Gloton points out in Ibn
al-​ʿArabī’s eyes,

love can be considered as the internal movement, the interior attraction


which allows a reality –​the Divine Being or any other entity –​to
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  155
exteriorize its possibilities, to open up the seed of which it consists and to
become a fully developed tree capable of reproduction and bearing fruit
in the image of the divine Life to which it is intimately bound. From this
well-​founded lexical and Quranic perspective, al-​Hubb is the loving Seed
or the seminal and generative development which is inseparable from
divine Life and the voluntary movement which it implies. Al-​Mahabba,
according to the pattern on which this term is constructed, is the locus,
the support where this love is actualized.”204

In this way, the combination of the seed of love has been made, since “love
produces the seed and the seed develops due to the effect of the seed of love
which it contains.”205 Thus, the connection between the notion of the seed
of creation and the notion of love in ʿAndalīb’s work had emerged and been
nourished from within the Sufi tradition long before and builds a foundation
for his mystical prophetology.206 In his teachings, whoever would know of
Muḥammad’s creation, would love him, since his reality is the status of love
(ḥubb) and he is the beloved (maḥbūb) of God. He interpreted that the Lord
of Lords created ḥubb. Ḥubb is ḥabb in the sense that it is the seed of creation,
the Reality of Realities, the substance and the reality of all forms and entities.
The notion of the seed presents Muḥammad as the comprehensive creature,
who has assumed the character traits of God. He is the divine vicegerent who
has control over the seven districts of the microcosm (the seven parts of his
body) and the macrocosm (all other bodies including all of the heavens and
the earth). All of creation is devoted to him and he is the ultimate cause of
creation, as God says that were it not for the Muḥammadan Reality, creation
would not have come into existence.207
ʿAndalīb relied on this notion and the oral literature around it to create an
allegorical description about the nature of the protagonist. In his narrative,
the Muḥammadī dervish gave the childless king a healing fruit, a pomegranate,
and after divine influence the protagonist was born. The seed of the pom-
egranate was made from the influence of the four elements (earth, water, air,
and fire), the stars, time and space, and the weather. It is Muḥammad or the
substance of creation, the only mediator of creation, which grew into a tree.
The image of the pomegranate serves to epitomize the representation of unity
and multiplicity and it reflects perfection and annihilation in the Prophet.
It demonstrates how Muḥammad is like a single pomegranate, which as a
whole (kull) encompasses small red seeds (juzʾ) or the individuals under a
thick skin.208 In describing the protagonist, ʿAndalīb uses the red color of
the pomegranate as a symbol of rebellion, and in fact, the protagonist’s
nature derives inherently from wild and shining red fire, as can be seen from
ʿAndalīb’s words here:

He would conquer all earth’s habitable lands. All, from east to west, would
be under his light of guidance and his bounty. All would know the fame
of his justice from Qāf Mountain to Qāf Mountain.209 Since the origin of
156  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
his creation is from the fire, the rebellion (shūrish), separation (firāq) and
bewilderment (sargardānī) in horizons (āfāq) is raised from him. He will
be brighter than the sun. This is why we called him Jahāngīr.210

As already discussed in the second section of this chapter, Muḥammad


represents the sincere lover whose faith is intermixed with love, thus showing
the importance of the inner aspect of religion that signifies mysticism together
with sharīʿa. Thus, the nightingale and the story of his love for the rose serve
to elaborate on the reality and perfection of faith. To remind us of the allegor-
ical role of the nightingale in Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, ʿAndalīb insists on continuing
to refer to the protagonist as the nightingale, since his love is helpful in solving
theological problems and ending sectarianism. His protagonist was a lover
prince who, under the influence of a curse, was transformed into a nightin-
gale but returned to human form by way of the spell-​breaking jewel, which is
only attainable at the end of the path of love. Love purifies the nightingale’s
soul and his metaphorical love (ʿishq-​i majāzī) is transformed into true love
(ʿishq-​i ḥaqīqī). As a truthful lover, the nightingale attains a highly esoteric
mystical state in his narrative and becomes a perfect metaphor for the Prophet
who has been annihilated in God. Their connection can be understood as
the connection between deep meaning (maʿnā), and the apparent form (ṣūra).
Therefore, the lamentation of the nightingale originates from his inner being,
that is from the rose.211

The Perfect Man


This concept of the perfect man is a central part of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Sufism
that was elaborated in his followers’ works like Miftāḥ al-​ghayb by al-​Qūnawī,
Miṣbāḥ al-​uns by Ibn al-​Fanārī, al-​Insān al-​kāmil by ʿAzīz al-​Dīn Nasafī’s
and al-​Insān al-​kāmil by al-​Jīlī. Essentially, the esoteric meaning of the per-
fect man is interwoven with the characteristics of the Prophet Muḥammad
and ʿAndalīb calls the Prophet “the man who possesses perfection” (insān-​i
bā kamāl). The concept is also related to previously mentioned ideas such as
the Eternal Reality, the Reality of Realities, and the vicegerent and repre-
sentative of God.212 The doctrine of the Prophet’s perfection began taking
shape since the time of Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq, the sixth Shiʿa imam, and later became
a main part of mystical prophetology in Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s mysticism. In Ibn
al-​ʿArabī’s way of thinking, the perfect man is the pole (quṭb), who has the
highest position in the hierarchy of saints. This doctrine focuses on the rela-
tionship between God and mankind and refers to the perfect man as the per-
fect link between God and humanity.213 In this sense, the perfect man is called
barzakh or a bridge linking between the spiritual/​divinity and the corporeal/​
creation.214 According to ʿAzīz al-​Nasafī, a seventh/​thirteenth-​century Sufi,
the state of the perfect man refers to the highest degree of four particular
attributes: good works, good deeds, good manners, and true insight.215 From
al-​Jīlī’s point of view, the status of the perfect man is accessible for all, since
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  157
the perfection of the Muḥammadan Reality appeared in various “forms or
‘garments’ (malābis).”216 Thus, the Ibn al-​ʿArabian concept of “the perfect
meanings (al-​maʿānī al-​kamāliyyah) existent in the Muhammadan Reality
become illuminated (ushriqat) in our [the Perfect Humans’] essences.”217
There are some important features of ʿAndalīb’s thought in regard to the
Prophet that relate to the idea of the perfect man. First, the perfection of the
Prophet caused him to be considered the true father of mankind.218 Second,
he is regarded as a perfect shaykh, or a Prophet-​shaykh, and guide on the path
who ultimately leads the aspirant to finding the Essence of being. Therefore,
a wayfarer should follow his spiritual experiences and remain diligent in his
contemplation and asceticism.219 This belief is linked to the analogy of the
Prophet, being a transparent vessel for the divine light. The Prophet’s inner
aspect is cheerful, while his outer aspect is lifeless (dil zinda wa ṣūrat murda),220
because inwardly he is with God and he abandons worldly desires. The reason
for this is his spiritual rank, his special proximity (taqarrub) to God.
He argues that intrinsically, the status of the Prophet is nearness to the Lord
of Lords, which is erroneously considered as the status of the Essence (Dhāt).
However, the Prophet occasionally experienced nearness to the Essence and
was honored by the manifestation of the divine Essence.221 The Prophet has a
special proximity to God and it is only he who attains the manifestation of the
divine Essence, as attested to by the ḥadīth in which the Prophet says, “there
is a special time for me with Allāh in which no favorite angel, or prophet is
allowed.”222 Therefore, the Prophet’s being portrayed as the lover of God’s
Essence demonstrates the infinity of his spiritual capacity, which is not even
filled with the endless manifestations of the divine names, as seen when the
Prophet says, “I am incapable of knowing You (God) the way You deserve.”223
The origin of the First Entification, or the Muḥammadan Reality, is from His
very Being. The divine names and attributes are mediators for establishing
a relationship with the Essence, since the Essence is ineffable, nameless and
non-​entifiable.
No one knows the name of the Essence, which is the greatest divine name
(al-​ism al-​aʿẓam). Being (al-​Wujūd) is the first manifestation of Essence which
became an intermediary for the emanation of Essence. The divine names and
attributes are lords (rabbs) for the creations which are called “ruled over”
(sing. marbūb). Here, rabbs are regarded as the permanent archetypes, or fixed
entities (al-​aʿyān al-​thābita), which are in the world of the unseen (ʿālam al-​
ghayb). The external existences (or marbūbs) come into existence and manifest
their own rabb.224 On this foundation, the Lord of Muḥammad is the compre-
hensive name, the Lord of Lords which is called Allāh. Each prophet is related
to one of the divine attributes: Jesus with “the Living” (al-​Ḥayāt), Abraham
with “the Knowledge” (al-​ʿIlm), Noah with “the Power” (al-​Qudra), David
with “the Hearing” (al-​Samʿ), Jacob with “the Seeing” (al-​Baṣar), Moses with
“the Speaking” (al-​Kalām), and Adam with “the Engendering” (al-​Takwīn).225
The attribute of being which is associated with Muḥammad allowed for the
Qurʾān to become one of his miracles. As the ḥadīth alludes, God gave the gift
158  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
of concise speech (jawāmiʿ al-​kalim) to the Prophet. Similarly, the attribute
of “the Speaking” caused the revelation of the Old Testament to Moses, “the
Power” caused the revelation of Psalms to David and “the Living” caused
the revelation of the Gospel to Jesus.226 The manifestation of “the Being” in
Muḥammad caused him to assume the state of substance with God (baqāʾ
biʾllāh), even after the manifestation of “the Living” caused his arrival in the
world. This state is inaccessible to archangels and to the prophets, except for
Muḥammad himself.227
The mystical portrayal of Muḥammad in prophetology stresses that the
Prophet is a mediator for reaching faith in the divine Essence or the unseen
(īmān biʾl-​ghayb). Whoever follows the Prophet will be able to understand
the essential manifestation (al-​tajallī al-​dhātī) and can attain the most com-
plete faith which is called Muḥammadī faith. As such, the state of the Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyyūn is specifically the state of the select of the selected men
(akhaṣṣ al-​khawāṣṣ), because through with-​ness (maʿiyya)228 to the Prophet
and love for him, they can attain the Essence indirectly.229 ʿAndalīb criticizes
the incomplete faith of some Sufis, since they believe in union and assert
God’s immanence (tashbīh) and the similarity between God and creation.
He criticizes the faith of the ʿulamāʾ for their overemphasis on distance and
transcendence (tanzīh), that is that God transcends any attribute or quality
possessed by His creatures.230

Annihilation in the Prophet


The intermediating authority of the Prophet with regard to God is reflected
in a central aspect of some varieties of Sufism, that is the notion of initially
seeking annihilation in one’s shaykh (fanāʾ fīʾl-​shaykh), followed by annihila-
tion in the Prophet (fanāʾ fīʾl-​Rasūl) and culminating in annihilation in God
(fanāʾ fīʾllāh). Such Sufis believe that the Prophet’s heart and will are so closely
identified with God that they can be recognized as being one.231 Following Ibn
al-​ʿArabī, al-​Jīlī believes there is only one way to God, and that is through
Muḥammad.232 However, according to Sedgwick, union with the Prophet
and visualizing him were not Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s concerns. The connection with
the spirituality of the Prophet was emphasized by al-​Wāsiṭī (d. 711/​1311),
although he did not underestimate the intermediary role of shaykhs on the
path.233 Later, in terms of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya as the only path
of the Prophet, his idea of spiritual union with the Prophet was applied by
ʿAbd al-​Ghanī al-​Nāblusī (d. 1143/​1731).234 ʿAndalīb describes the Prophet’s
spiritual status in terms of the Qurʾān by stating, “Muḥammad brought the
ascending and descending arcs to an end when he returned to earth as the
representative of God.”235 ʿAndalīb explains that the state of annihilation in
God caused the Prophet to know the origin of the divine names and through
the manifestation of the divine attributes he obtained the status of with-​ness
(maʿiyya) with God.236
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  159
The Prophet Muḥammad is the engraver (naqshband) of the beauty of
God. The divine names are imprinted on his heart. He travelled in the
imaginal realm (ʿālam al-​mithāl). He has the state of travelling in the
homeland (safar dar waṭan) and solitude in the multitude (khalwat dar
anjuman).237
In companionship (ṣuḥba), he is in isolation (khalwa) and in seclusion
(gūsha-​nishīnī) he is apparent (jalwa). He sees among the plurality (kathra)
unification (waḥda), and in the state of union, he sees the plurality.238

ʿAndalīb maintains that for a wayfarer who has devoted himself to the
Prophet, the only way to attain annihilation in him is through a shaykh239
who emulates the prophetic virtues and spiritual practices. In his The Heirs
of the Prophet: Charisma and Religious Authority in Shiʿite Islam, Liyakat
N. Takim remarks about the notion of annihilation in the Prophet that “Due
to his pervading presence and charismatic appeal, contemporary Muslims
can somehow experience Muḥammad’s character and charisma.”240 ʿAndalīb
argues that since the shaykh has achieved annihilation in the Prophet,
through him the wayfarer will attain annihilation in the Prophet. In other
words, the manifestation of the shaykh’s lord leads the wayfarer to attain
the manifestation of the Prophet’s lord. Therefore, companionship with the
shaykh is of great importance, since the shaykh is a mediator for reaching
the Prophet,241 and the prophetic spirituality can only be conveyed chest to
chest, through companionship and friendship with perfect men.242 Therefore,
the Muḥammadiyya prefers companionship (ṣuḥba) to the practice of isola-
tion (khalwa),243 since it is believed that the wayfarer can only reach as far as
the knowledge of certainty (ʿilm al-​yaqīn) through asceticism and religious
devotion, while through companionship he can attain the vision of certainty
(ʿayn al-​yaqīn) and the reality of certainty (ḥaqq al-​yaqīn). Such companion-
ship allows the wayfarer to indirectly establish his own spiritual relationship
with the Prophet.244 In fact, allegiance to a perfected man helps the wayfarer
reach the perfection of both the angelic stage and the human stage, and attain
to the status of being His (i.e., God’s) servant (ʿabduhu) and His messenger
(rasūluhu).245
The narrative itself comes under the influence of ʿAndalīb’s own spiritual
contraction (qabḍ) and expansion (basṭ), as his ego was annihilated in the
Prophet’s ego. In other words, ʿAndalīb (Muḥammad Nāṣir) loses himself in
the bulbul (the Prophet Muḥammad), thus the conflation of his identity with
the bulbul. This is a major reason for his choosing ʿAndalīb as his penname.246
He writes:

A hundred meadows have bloomed into roses from the heart of my


confusion
I am the nightingale of the painted garden—​
don’t ask about my
lamentation.247
160  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
ʿAndalīb describes three stages of annihilation in the Prophet, the first being
that the wayfarer’s own appearance is annihilated in the Prophet’s appearance,
since the Prophet’s body and appearance is perfect. In this regard, the wayfarer
imitates the Prophet’s lifestyle and he refines his physical body. The second stage
is annihilation of the wayfarer’s reality, or his own existence, in the Prophet’s
reality. The third stage is annihilation of both appearance and reality in those
of the Prophet.248 By strictly imitating the Prophet, his manner and spiritual
states, the wayfarer is able to reach the very same level of mystical insight that
the Prophet himself had attained.249 ʿAndalīb claims to have reached the state
of annihilation in the Prophet and considers himself as “Muḥammad’s servant
who attained to this status and knowledge through him.”250

The Theories of Maʿiyya and ʿAyniyya


As to the question of what is actually conveyed from the Prophet through
companionship and how this connection to his spirituality is possible,
ʿAndalīb makes a comparison between a son and a daughter to clarify what
he has in mind. The son is more excellent, since he receives the emanation of
his father’s essence, while the daughter receives the emanation of her mother’s
essence. He explains that this is why the prophet says, “the son is his father’s
secret.” Since the Prophet was the seal of the prophets, he had no son, in the
sense of a prophetic successor. The effusion of the essential perfections had
come to an end, therefore, the Prophet’s essence was not conveyed but his
attributes were, yet only through his daughter and her children. The effusion
of the Prophet’s attributes would reach its completion by way of Jesus and
the Mahdī.251 Following this argument, ʿAndalīb believes that the prophetic
virtues were transmitted in two ways, one from the Prophet to ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib,
Ḥasan b. ʿAlī and Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī, who had ties of kinship with Muḥammad
(a relationship of ʿayniyya or “sameness”) and the other to Abū Bakr whose
connection with the Prophet was one of friendship and companionship (a
relationship of maʿiyya or “with-​ness”).252
ʿAndalīb claims to hold a comprehensive relationship with the Prophet,
since not only does he, as a sayyid, have an ancestral relationship of ʿayniyya
to the Prophet through ʿAlī, but also, as a Naqshbandī, he has maʿiyya as
a result of his connection (nisba) to the Prophet through Abū Bakr. In this
way, the Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs who follow him receive the perfection of
Prophethood, vicegerency, sainthood and sharīʿa from Muḥammad via both
of these great men.253 ʿAndalīb devises the theory of maʿiyya and ʿayniyya
to solve the most important issue of Muslim society, that of succession from
the Prophet, which locates the status of Abū Bakr and ʿAlī in the proper
place. What ʿAndalīb presents is not only a theory whereby he reduces the
sectarian tensions between the Shiʿas and Sunnis, but it is also a reply to the
question of how Muslims can attain the spirituality of the Prophet. It should
be noted that this combination of the spiritual leadership of both ʿAlī and
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  161
Abū Bakr is a distinguishing characteristic which separates ʿAndalīb from
other Naqshbandī Mujaddidīs.
The Naqshbandiyya is sometimes described as having a Bakrī silsila since
Abū Bakr provides the legitimacy for the order as the first transmitter of
spiritual knowledge from the Prophet, as compared with other Sufi orders
which instead trace their lineages to Muḥammad through ʿAlī. Naqshbandīs
attribute some of their devotional practices to Abū Bakr such as the secrets
of the silent remembrance of God (dhikr al-​khafī), which the Prophet is said
to have taught him; and the method of mutual binding (rābiṭa, a conjoining
of spirits in companionship) which is said to have originated from Abū Bakr’s
love for the Prophet and the close friendship they shared, to the extent that
he is known as the friend of the cave (yār-​i ghār).254 He is the one who testi-
fied with full faith as to the veracity of the Prophet’s account of his ascen-
sion to paradise. His epithet is “the Sincere” (al-​Ṣiddīq), in reference to his
ethical virtue and adherence to the sharīʿa.255 As Bakrī-​inspired Sufis, the
Naqshbandiyya were generally strictly loyal to the al-​khulafāʾ al-​rāshidūn and
sharīʿa and sometimes had hostility toward the Shiʿa, who were seen as het-
erodox from their Sunnī perspective.256 The activities of some Naqshbandī
Mujaddidī followers of Aḥmad Sirhindī continued in this vein, and the con-
flict between the Sunnī and Shiʿa in India increased,257 thus the need to find a
solution became a main concern. During ʿAndalīb’s time, of particular note is
Shāh Walī Allāh’s attempt to resolve this struggle by acknowledging the spir-
itual superiority of ʿAlī over the earlier caliphs.258
Naming the protagonist of his narrative after the sun is not only related
to the Prophet Muḥammad as a vessel for the light of God, but it also gave
ʿAndalīb the chance to place Abū Bakr in a supreme status after the Prophet
by naming him after the moon, Māh Munīr. This analogy reminds us of sun-
light, and likewise, Abū Bakr acts as a vessel to communicate the light of the
Prophet.259 In ʿAndalīb’s narrative, Māh Munīr is Mihr Jahāngīr’s vizier and
mediator as well as a senior companion, confidant and intimate friend.260

We call him Māh Munīr, who would be Mihr Jahāngīr’s vizier. He would
obtain Mihr’s light and perfections through following him. He would
bring shining day to the world which sinks in a long dark night. Like
the moon’s light shines, he would project the color of love and kindness
onto the world. He would color the fruit of the lover’s heart with various
colors such as initiative experience, eagerness, attraction by God, love and
grief, suffering and pain. His love, annihilation and following of Mihr
Jahāngīr, could not be explained by words, nevertheless, the sun has no
follower (tābiʿ) such as the moon. The moon passes all degrees and stages
of the sun through shadowiness and implicativeness. The moon obtains
so many spiritual benefits in this manner, insofar that if I talk about his
nearness with the sun, it seems as though I am explaining the perfections
of Mihr Jahāngīr himself.261
162  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
Māh Munīr is an exalted man, since he attained the station of perceiving the
Essence (Dhāt) and nearness to the Essence (qurb-​i Dhāt). In the story, Māh
Munīr’s ascending arc was finished when he found the rose in India, and his
descending arc had begun when the rose sent him to find the nightingale. This
means that following the nightingale led him to understand divinity, but it
was not the end of the path and he must return to the world and spread the
nightingale’s teachings.
In order to demonstrate the position of Abū Bakr, ʿAndalīb divides
Muslims into three groups, those being common people (ʿawāmm), special
people (khawāṣṣ), and the most special of special people (akhaṣṣ al-​khawāṣṣ).
Abū Bakr is the foremost among the last category, and it is he that is being
referred to in the Qurʾānic verse: “And the forerunners, the forerunners;
those are the ones brought near [to Allāh].”262 ʿAndalīb dignifies Abū Bakr
by declaring that he enjoys a comprehensive relationship (with-​ness and
sameness) with the Prophet. He narrates a ḥadīth from Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq in which
Abū Bakr’s maternal ancestors are considered to be from the Prophet’s family.
This means that he in fact has not only apparent kinship (ʿayniyya), but also
the spiritual relationship of with-​ness (maʿiyya), as the esoteric companion
of the Prophet.263 According to various ḥadīths and verses of the Qurʾān, the
relationship of Abū Bakr with the Prophet is one of precedence (aqdamiyya),
intimacy (maḥramiyya or khuṣūṣiyya), devotion (fadawiyya), allegiance
(tabaʿiyya), and with-​ness (maʿiyya), but not of superiority (afḍaliyya).264 The
Prophet calls others to imitate him.265 Abū Bakr was the first to have attained
annihilation (fanāʾ) in the Prophet, thus his self (nafs) is Muḥammad’self, and
his body is Muḥammad’s body.266 To demonstrate the most perfect adher-
ence to following the Prophet, ʿAndalīb states that the wayfarer’s attention
is toward God while traversing the descending arc, but Abū Bakr pays no
attention to the glory or power of any other than his beloved-​shaykh and
he looks to the Prophet’s essence. ʿAndalīb narrates that after the death of
Māh Munīr, he was buried under the pomegranate tree (the Cosmic Tree).
This demonstrates his obedience (tamkīn) and resistance (istiqāma), which are
higher than the stages of coloring (talwīn) and ecstasy (wajd).267 It is not sur-
prising that ʿAndalīb uses the movement of the sun and the transition of the
moon’s phases from crescent to full moon to symbolically refer to the pro-
cess of becoming the perfect man. He is looking for the sun’s light from the
moon’s light.

We try to achieve the manifestation of the sun from moonlight


In the mirage of friendship, we seek to find water
We can see the sun in the mirror of the moonlight
We seek to find morning laughter from fleeting lip268

Regarding ʿAlī, the symbolism of the pomegranate seeds is used in this alle-
gorical story to describe his position, since he was created from the remainder
of the pomegranate seed. This idea is based on a ḥadīth according to which the
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  163
Prophet said: “people are from another tree, but I and ʿAlī are from the same
tree.”269 ʿAndalīb represented ʿAlī in the character of Bī Naẓīr (“Unique”),
who is a seed from the fruit of a pomegranate tree. The nightingale is the
principle (aṣl) and Bī Naẓīr is the consequence and the subsidiary (farʿ), so
essentially, he needs the nightingale. In this symbolic expression, ʿAndalīb
describes Māh Munīr as the apple tree that grew from that same seed. So, the
truths of apple and pomegranate trees are similar. When the original seed
tended toward multiplicity and detail, the pomegranate tree grew from it.
When it tended toward unity and synopsis, the apple tree grew from it. Thus,
ʿAlī possesses divine wisdom from Muḥammad and his offspring inherited
Muḥammadan influence from him. Bī Naẓīr is Mihr Jahāngīr’s cousin and
his father is Sipihr Shukūh. Bī Naẓīr is described as a disconsolate man who
was lost in the desert and met Mihr Jahāngīr after many years when Mihr
Jahāngīr was wandering to find his beloved. In ʿAndalīb’s point of view, ʿAlī
paid no attention to worldly affairs and because of this reason he refused
to become Muḥammad’s successor for a long time.270 Then, he came into
possession of the ring of a vicegerent. The vicegerency of the Prophet is the
stage of perfect allegiance and love for Muḥammad. He possessed the spell-​
breaking jewel, which is a symbol of prophetic knowledge, and a green robe
of honor and lordship. His descending arc began from the time he became the
fourth caliph, and he attained the stage of “earth” (turāb). The descending arc
signifies the stage of perfect allegiance and love for Muḥammad.271 Indeed,
he is unified with Muḥammad (ittiḥād), although he is apparently separated
from him.272 It was ʿAlī who spread Muḥammad’s knowledge, lamentation,
the disciplines of his path of love and inner spiritual faith. ʿAlī conveyed the
perfection of sainthood (wilāya), the path (ṭarīqa) and knowledge (maʿrifa)
to the saints.273 ʿAlī attains the spiritual stage in which he can listen to the
conversations between the Prophet and God through his vicegerency and
through his following and imitating. He knows the greatest divine name and
the divine Essence.274
To clarify the lofty positions of Abū Bakr and ʿAlī, ʿAndalīb uses two
esoteric terms, the pole of the circle (quṭb al-​madār) and the pole of guidance
(quṭb al-​irshād). Abū Bakr is the pole of the circle, that is he is in the heart of
Muḥammad and divine love took root in his heart. Considering the path as a
circle which has two arcs, one ascending and the other descending, Abū Bakr
is the guide in the descending arc and he leads seekers in attaining resistance
and stability.275 If Bī Naẓīr was the pole of guidance and like the door to the
city of knowledge, then Māh Munīr was the pole of the circle and the sign of
endurance. ʿAndalīb regards ʿAlī as deliverance (ghawth)276 and as the pole of
guidance277 in the ascending arc. The wayfarer’s ascending journey is toward
the status of the divine name which is his lord.278 Also, the astronomical
aspect of the notion of quṭb, as a pivot (madār) of the universal and a way of
naming the Prophet, ʿAlī and Abū Bakr in ʿAndalīb’s narrative demonstrates
how he echoes the Shiʿi mystical view in which the imam is the solar pole (quṭb
al-​ shamsī) from whom the masters of ṭarīqas attain Prophetic spirituality and
164  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
are called the lunar pole (quṭb al-​qamarī) and the pole of time (quṭb al-​zamān).
From this perceptive, the twelfth imam, the Mahdī, is the pole of poles (quṭb
al-​ aqṭāb).279
ʿAndalīb describes two connections on the path of love. The first of these is
the connection of love (nisbat-​i ʿishqī), which is related to the status of intoxi-
cation. In this stage, the wayfarer has a spiritual relationship with Abū Bakr
and finds a relationship of maʿiyya (“with-​ness”) with his lord. Second is the
scholarly connection (nisbat-​i ʿilmī), which is related to sobriety and the way-
farer has a spiritual relationship with ʿAlī and finds a relationship of ʿayniyya
(“sameness”) with his lord.280
Having the state of maʿiyya, the Muḥammadīs’ rank is higher than that
of others who claim to be Sufis. Accordingly, ʿAndalīb explains that if their
appearance were to distinguish them from other Sufis, it could be imagined
that they would wear a special style of large straw hat (kulāh kahkahī); which
would show their lofty status, distinguishing them from other so-​called Sufis,
who traditionally wear four-​piece or two-​piece hats. For him, these types of
headgear can be indicative of their respective ways of thinking. Those who
wear a four-​piece hat (kulāh chahār tarkī) deem four things necessary: aban-
donment of physical pleasure, of sensual passion and of worldly pleasure as
well as seeking pleasure only for the afterlife. Those who wear a two-​piece hat
(kulāh du tarkī) deem two things necessary: abandonment of the world and
of the afterlife. Sufis in the state of contraction (qabẓ) wear dark clothes and
cover their entire body. In the state of expansion (basṭ) and relief, they wear
loose clothes in lighter colors, such as green or red. Those who are pretentious
paupers, since they chose to be in misery, wear clothes which do not show dirt.
Those who have achieved annihilation, wear a burial shroud. One group wears
the garb of the Qādiriyya, another group wears a towel. ʿAndalīb relates that
all of these groups are engrossed in the type of clothing they wear, explaining
how their clothing identifies them in terms of their states and status on the
path. As true mystics, however, he asserts that the Muḥammadīs actually care
nothing for unique styles of clothing or the color of such clothes, as other
groups do, and they do not in fact wear any special hats in ordinary, day-​
to-​day life. They wear the garment of piety in accordance with the Qurʾānic
verse, “O children of Adam, We have bestowed upon you clothing to conceal
your private parts and as adornment. But the clothing of righteousness–​that
is the best. That is from the signs of Allāh that perhaps they will remember.”281
In sum, analyzing ʿAndalīb’s worldview demonstrates the ontological and
charismatic centrality of the Prophet under the influence of Shiʿi teachings
and the worldview of Ibn al-​ʿArabī. The protagonist in his allegorical
narrative gives him an opportunity to show the many-​faceted character of the
Prophet. Thus, the discussion of mystical prophetology presents the Prophet
in different mystical aspects, like the divine light, the seed of creation, the
beloved and lover of God and the perfect man. It also represents his figure
as a Prophet-​shaykh and the most trustworthy leader who is the helper of
Islam. Having a connection with the Prophet’s spirituality through the two
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  165
main concepts of with-​ness (maʿiyya) and sameness (ʿayniyya) demonstrates
the importance of having a connection with the spirituality of the Prophet
through Abū Bakr al-​Ṣiddīq and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib. ʿAndalīb’s theory of with-​
ness and sameness was his contribution in rejuvenating discussions about the
status of the Prophet’s caliphs as a reaction to Sunni-​Shiʿa controversies and
also theological problems. Dealing with the issue from this perspective was
also applied by Shāh Walī Allāh. He wrote Izālat al-​khulafā ʿan khalīfat al-​
khulafā in Persian and this text pays attention to the sectarian debates from a
more socio-​political perspective. He also composed Qurrat al-​ʿaynayn fī tafḍīl
al-​shaykhayn in order to defend the position of the first three caliphs and
ʿAlī with a rejecting approach toward the Shiʿa. Both works are concerned
about how the caliphates shaped Islam after the Prophet. Such attempts are
responses to the need for a religious political power and for harmonizing the
relation with the Prophet through his successors.282 According to Muhammad
Qasim Zaman, such a topic shows the importance of this theme in the trans-
mission of the Prophet’s mission. He says: “The prophet-​like qualities the
Rashidun had possessed had allowed them to give form and substance to the
religion. They were able as well to understand what God wanted them to do
on their own rather than on anyone’s instruction (az sirr-​i tahqiq na az sirr-​i
taqlid).”283 The various approaches of the Delhi masters could be understood
by making a comparison between ʿAndalīb and Shāh Walī Allāh in applying
the imagery of the sun and moon. Shāh Walī Allāh uses the sun and moon to
affirm the inseparability of Abū Bakr and ʿUmar from the Prophet, who are
like the sun, from the Prophet, while ʿAlī like the moon is totally different from
the sun and separately reflects the light of the sun.284 In contrast, ʿAndalīb
does not deal with the status of ʿUmar and ʿUthmān and he concentrates on
the duality of Abū Bakr/​ʿAlī. It can be interpreted that ʿAndalīb’s point of
view tended more toward the inside of Islam and the conveying sainthood
from the ahl al-​bayt, although he does pay attention to the outer aspect and
the role of Abū Bakr.

Reorientation of Sufism: The Critical View of the Khāliṣ


Muḥammadiyya
The lack of religiosity in the Muslim community was a main target of
ʿAndalīb’s criticism in general, and he aimed at solving the intricate problems
of his time by calling for a restoration of Islam. But a particular further
feature of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya is his criticism toward Sufis and his
calls for a reorientation of Sufism. The analysis presented here deals with
his polemics against Sufism, which he feels had been negatively impacted by
Wujūdī/​Shuhūdī struggles as well as theological and jurisprudential debates.
At first glance, his harshly critical point of view seems to be directed toward
the Wujūdīs, but in fact they were representatives of only one interpretation
of Islam that he criticizes, one that provides him an opportunity to emphasize
certain characteristically Naqshbandī aspects of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya,
166  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
namely orthodoxy, worldliness, and sobriety. This section deals with the rigid
distinctions between this path and other ways of thinking, since he seeks a
straight way for rectifying the true faith. From this point of view, the followers
of the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya serve as the ideal Muslims who represent eth-
ical values as true Sufis, as opposed to pseudo-​Sufis (ṣūfī namāyān).

Declining Mughals and Critique of Sufis


As Mughal authority deteriorated, revivalist Muslim intellectuals believed
that it was not only the religious and moral decay of the ruling classes that
was increasing, but such decline was also on the rise among religious leaders,
namely the ʿulamāʾ and Sufi masters. They saw the latter as abasing Sufism
as a device for attracting followers, accumulating wealth and gaining social
power, which weakened proper observance of sharīʿa.285 In other words,
they viewed the irreligiosity of certain Sufis as being the reason for a moral
decline in society in spite of the fact that Sufism was intended to be a means
of moral training. Such belief also rejected many rituals in the Sufi hospices
as corrupting practices that weakened Sufism in the eyes of the orthodox reli-
gious scholars, who viewed these as un-​Islamic accretions from Hinduism
and the Indian environment. These practices included some that seemed more
erotic than spiritual, such as listening to vulgar music, enjoying watching
the dancing wayfarers, consorting with female disciples and meditating on
beardless youths (naẓar ilaʾl-​murd).286 In addition to these can be mentioned
recounting the legendary miracles of shaykhs, worshipping dead masters
and visiting their graves to seek their intercessory assistance,287 believing in
superstitions such as the use of amulets (taʾwīdh) for curing diseases or taking
soil from the tombs of shaykhs to be used as remedies.288 This critical point
of view—​along with other factors like unsafe conditions due to the political
fragmentation in Delhi, where Sufism was an important part of the lives of
many people—​also adversely affected the activities of Sufis in khānaqāhs that
hosted a small number of disciples. In this regard, as Umar notes, it seemed
that among those who did not leave the city in such dire circumstances, from
the perspective of Mīrzā Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān, few God-​seekers (khudā ṭalab)
remained and the majority paid no attention to Sufism or divine matters
anymore.289
Thus, an internal critique in Sufism, relating to the immorality of religious
leaders and their followers, increased from the beginning of the eighteenth
century. This outlook had deep roots in the works of exalted Sufi masters
who criticized their fellow Sufis from their own respective periods. Among
these works, some titles must be mentioned, such as Abū Bakr Muḥammad
Bukhārī al-​Kalābādhī’s (d. 380/​990) al-​Taʿarruf li madhhab ahl al-​taṣawwuf,
Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-​Ghazālī’s Iḥyā ʿulūm al-​dīn and Kīmiyā-yi saʿādat,
Shihāb al-​Dīn Abū Ḥafṣ ʿUmar Suhrawardī’s ʿAwārif al-​maʿārif and ʿIzz al-​
Dīn Maḥmūd al-​Kāshānī’s (d. 735/​1334) Miṣbāḥ al-​hidāyat wa miftāh al-​kifāya.
Like these earlier Sufis, ʿAndalīb’s work, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, contains undeniable
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  167
denunciation of other Sufis, since he advocates a revitalization of Sufism by
exposing the false creeds and misconceptions held by other Sufis. First and
foremost, ʿAndalīb criticizes what he sees as their rampant irreligiosity. In
his time, the popular heterodox Sufis outnumbered the more orthodox ones.
ʿAndalīb keeps the former Sufis of earlier times (ṣūfiyān-​i sābiq) separate and
distinct from what he calls inexperienced and wretched Sufis (ṣūfiyān-​i khām-​i
hālik), describing the latter group as those who are unaware and who reason
fallaciously.290 In ʿAndalīb’s point of view, largely following Hujwīrī’s Kashf
al-​maḥjūb, Sufis can be categorized into twelve different groups, ten of which
are representatives of authentic Sufism (Muḥāsibiyya, Qaṣṣāriyya, Ṭayfūriyya,
Junaydiyya, Thawriyya, Sahliyya, Kharrāziyya, Ḥaqīqiyya and Shaṭṭāriyya),
belong to the ahl al-​sunna wa’l-​jamāʿa, are called muḥaqqiqīn (“those in
whom the truth has become actualized”) and are approved (maqbūl); while
the remaining two groups are rejected and condemned (mardūd) as heterodox
(the Ḥulūliyya, who are adherents of incarnation, and the Ḥallājiyya, who
abandon sharīʿa).291
Giving centrality to the Prophet’s spirituality, the true Sufis’ presences
are polished mirrors reflecting the Prophet’s lights and attributes, or in other
words, they are the locus of God’s manifestations of majesty and beauty. It is
due to these characteristics that they are described as ecstatic men, possessors
of the states (ṣāḥib-​ḥālān) and favorites of God (muqarrabān).292 A true Sufi
is called Muḥammadī, since he follows the Prophet Muḥammad on the path
of God. Thus, he is a representative (khalīfa) of God on earth, a perfect man
who has a comprehensive understanding of the reality of Islam after having
completed the ascending and descending arcs on the path. He has purified his
heart through submitting himself to the Prophet, abandoning “selfishness”
and becoming annihilated in the spiritual master. He belongs to a minority
of Sufis whose persuasion (mashrab) is related to the Prophet, and thus he is
known as being of the Muḥammadī mashrab, while most Sufis follow different
mystical methods and are under the influence of other prophets. The question
then comes to mind of what being under the influence of the prophets means.
The Sufi’s visionary unveilings (mukāshafāt) and states have a resemblance
to the visions of one of the prophets in the ascending and descending arcs
of the path. According to ʿAndalīb, the majority of Sufis are of the Nūḥī
mashrab (the persuasion related to Noah), Dāwūdī mashrab (that of David),
Ibrāhīmī mashrab (that of Abraham), Mūsawī mashrab (that of Moses) or
ʿĪsawī mashrab (that of Jesus). However, all seek to attain a common goal,
since “there are as many paths to God as there are human souls.”293
True Sufis are known ṣāḥib-​ḥālān, because they grasp the unity of the
manifestation of the divine essence (dhāt), but remain sober and avoid
becoming intoxicated, while many Sufis become intoxicated after engaging
with the variety of manifestations of the divine attributes (ṣifāt), and these
are known as ṣāḥib-​qālān (“possessors of the debates”). Citing a ḥadīth
that states, “The one who knows God, his tongue is unable to speak” (kalla
lisān-​u-​hu), ʿAndalīb interprets this as referring to the Muḥammadī who has
168  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
a profound, inexpressible knowledge about God and it seems that they are
speechless, since they have come to understand the divine essence. In contrast,
the remainder of the ḥadīth says, “Whoever knows God[’s attributes], blabs
with a brazen assurance,” (ṭāla lisān-​u-​hu), which ʿAndalīb believes refers to
the second group, signifying that they talk long-​windedly about the divine
attributes, since they do not understand the essence.294

Perspective on the Struggle between Wujūdīs and Shuhūdīs


ʿAndalīb scrutinizes the heated, long-​lasting, technical and theoretical debate
over two important tendencies within Sufism, those being the Wujūdīs, who
have been understood as the followers of Ibn al-​ʿArabī and held to believe
that “all is he” (hama ūst),295 and Shuhūdīs, perhaps best typified by Sirhindī
and who believe that “all is from him” (hama az ūst). Waḥdat al-​wujūd was
criticized to varying degrees, most notably by Ibn al-​Taymiyya, ʿAlāʾ al-​
Dawla al-​Simnānī and Sirhindī. These discussions dealt with various aspects
of conceptualizing the relationship between God and the universe, including
especially the terms transcendence (tanzīh) and similarity (tashbīh). Sirhindī
maintains that the followers of Ibn al-​ʿArabī misunderstood the concept of
waḥdat al-​wujūd by considering the world as the sign of the divine essence.
From this point of view, beginners296 on the path are able to understand
waḥdat al-​wujūd, whereas they can come to understand waḥdat al-​shuhūd at
the end of the path.297 As far as the context of probably the most important
proponent of the Shuhūdī perspective in South Asia is concerned, Sirhindī’s
expounding the doctrine of waḥdat al-​shuhūd might be seen at least in part as
a reaction to the religious policies of Emperor Akbar (d. 1014/​1605, r. 963/​
1556–​1014/​1605), which had weakened the authority of the ʿulamāʾ and had
fostered inconsistencies between sharīʿa and Sufism.298 Akbar’s religion was
a tolerant faith that absorbed and synthesized the diverse religious traditions
in India and opened the door of the Mughal court to non-​Muslims from
different castes and races.299 Sirhindī’s waḥdat al-​shuhūd criticized Akbar’s
syncretic approach, dīn-​i ilāhī (“divine monotheism”), during the reign of
Jahāngīr. He called for strict observance of the sharīʿa and discrimination
against non-​Muslims.300
While ʿAndalīb’s contemporary Shāh Walī Allāh sought to reconcile
Shuhūdīs and Wujūdīs, such as in his treatise entitled Fayṣalat waḥdat al-​
wujūd waʾl-​shuhūd, ʿAndalīb tends more toward the side of the shuhūdīs,
who believe in duality, and the excellence of with-​ness (maʿiyya). Thus, his
explanation concerning two mystical terms, ʿayniyya and maʿiyya, which
were adapted from Sirhindī’s thought, will clarify his position in the Wujūdī/​
Shuhūdī struggle. At the beginning of the path, ʿAndalīb explains that he
was a Wujūdī and an ecstatic wayfarer, but later it was due to divine blessing
and prophetic guidance that he gave up the way of the wujūdiyya. He expli-
citly clarifies that although he makes use of certain Wujūdī terminologies in
his work, this does not mean that he is an adherent of waḥdat al-​wujūd.301 He
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  169
does, however, also criticize Shuhūdīs in certain regards, such as concerning
their belief that the world is a shadow of being, which would mean that the
world is non-​existent, imaginary and vain. He regards this belief as being in
contradiction with the Qurʾānic verses, “And We did not create the heaven
and the earth and that between them aimlessly. That is the assumption of
those who disbelieve, so woe to those who disbelieve from the Fire,”302 and
“We did not create the heavens and earth and what is between them except in
truth and [for] a specified term. But those who disbelieve, from that of what
they are warned, are turning away.”303
ʿAndalīb does respect Ibn al-​ʿArabī, but he bitterly criticizes Wujūdīs,
saying that they claim to follow Ibn al-​ʿArabī but are in fact villainous, lying
people that only pretend to be Sufis. ʿAndalīb explains that two groups among
Sufis believe in waḥdat al-​wujūd. The first group is considered as perfect
men by a large number of Sufis. They are called monotheist Sufis (ṣūfiyān-​i
muwaḥḥid) and they believe in both similarity and incomparability. They are
also described as being people of light (al-​aṣḥāb al-​nūr) and as possessing two
eyes (dhū al-​ʿaynī, in reference to their holding the highest spiritual status).
This group believes that the multiplicity and diversity that are found in the
world are stable manifestations (namūd or ẓuhūr) of God’s being (wujūd),
which has five descents (tanazzulāt, which are aḥadiyya, wāḥidiyya, arwāḥ,
mithāl and ajsād).304 God is the inner aspect of the universe and creation is the
outer. ʿAndalīb describes the second group as having a tendency toward phil-
osophy (ḥakīm mashrab) and being people of reason (aṣḥāb al-​ʿaql). They are
also called Wujūdī Sufis, possessors of reason (dhū al-​ʿaqlī) and people of the
fire (aṣḥāb al-​nār). This group, however, believes in similarity, meaning that
multiplicity and diversity are identified with God and God discloses Himself
through multiplicity. Thus, God is considered as the inner aspect of the uni-
verse and creation as the outer. The world and all of creation are illusory
(khayālī) and have no independent reality of their own.305

The Wujūdī Sufis say that goodness and perfection, deficiency and
declining all must be in the presence of being. That is perfection, since
from non-​being is proved imperfection and deficiency [but we say...] the
level of presence of being is nothing but goodness, perfection, beauty and
virtue which refers to the Qurʾānic verse “Whatever befalls you of the
good is from Allāh, and whatever befalls you of the evil is from yourself.
And for the people as a Messenger, and Allāh is sufficient as a Witness”306
and when He, the most glorified, says “Say, all is from Allāh,”307 it is
according to the Principle of Principles and the Reality of Realities. this
is what that comprehensiveness of the presence of illāhiyya requires.308

These people do not see the way of subsistence and hope


They are annihilated in creation, [but] they do not see the eternal God
Subḥān Allāh! I am completely astonished at
that eye which sees the particle but does not see the Sun!309
170  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
To further refute Wujūdī belief, ʿAndalīb references sūrat al-​Ikhlāṣ, in which
God as the creator has no relationship of sameness (ʿayniyya) with creation.
Such a relationship only occurs among creations, between each other or in
the human stage (martaba-​yi insānī). The relationship of with-​ness (maʿiyya),
however, is in the divine stage (martaba-​yi ilāhī). “ʿAyniyya and ittiḥād are in
the stage of the dense (kathīf), namely in the stage of forms and bodies, but
maʿiyya and distance are in the stages of the essence and the divine attributes,
in the stage of the Subtle (al-​Laṭīf).”310 The relationship between the subtle
and the dense is possible when “God descends from the stage of essence
(martaba-​yi dhāt, which is inaccessible) to the stage of divine attributes and
names (martaba-​yi asmāʾ wa ṣifāt-​i ilāhī). Then, the dense will find relation
with his lord and attain divine knowledge.”311
He mentions and interprets several other verses of the Qurʾān to support
the idea of the relationship of maʿiyya between God and creation, including,
“Know that Allāh is with those who fear Him,”312 “Allāh is with the patient,”313
and “He is with you wherever you are.”314 The truth of ʿayniyya is distance
and transcendence, and in this view, God is distinguished from creation in
the same way as a father is from his children and grandchildren. In con-
trast, the truth of maʿiyya is nearness and union between the Creator and
his creation.315 Therefore, maʿiyya is the end of the Muḥammadan path and
the Prophet Muḥammad’s relationship with God is one of maʿiyya and love,
which is the stable and true status. Although ʿAndalīb discusses these notions
in different pages of his work, he does not single out many specific details
concerning the theory of maʿiyya and it remains a highly elusive and esoteric
matter. He asserts that the concept of maʿiyya and duality is very confusing
and could not be expressed or understood completely through the written
word alone, but must be transmitted chest to chest, under the influence of
God’s favor.316

Criticism toward the People of Talwīn and Tamkīn


To situate the Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs in the struggle between Wujūdīs and
Shuhūdīs, ʿAndalīb divides Sufis into three groups: ahl al-​talwīn (literally
meaning “people of coloring” and signifying that they are possessors of the
state of changing),317 ahl al-​tamkīn (“people of establishing,” or mutimakkin,
denoting the possessors of the state of stability) and ahl al-​taskīn (“people
of quieting,” referring to those with the state of quieting). His description
demonstrates the differences between Wujūdīs and Shuhūdīs and how the
first group emphasizes sameness (ʿayniyya), isolation (khalwa) and vocalized
recollection (dhikr al-​jahrī). These wayfarers are called ahl al-​talwīn because
their states on the path are unstable, and they are continually changing from
one state to a higher state. They experience states of contraction (qabḍ) when
they are overwhelmed by fear (khawf) and understand the majesty of God.
They experience the state of expansion (basṭ) when they are replete with hope
(rajāʾ) and understand divine mercy and the beauty of God. The second
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  171
group emphasizes tamkīn. They believe in with-​ness (maʿiyya), companion-
ship (ṣuḥba) and silent recollection (dhikr al-​khafī).318 From ʿAndalīb’s critical
perspective, ahl al-​talwīn are in the process of passing through the first stages
of the path. They are enraptured ecstatic Sufis who spread misinterpretations
of the Qurʾān and sunna as justifications for themselves.319 The ahl al-​tamkīn
incline toward sobriety (ṣaḥw) and value having stability in mystical states. It
is noteworthy that Renard mentions that Naqshbandī reformists are placed
among the ahl al-​tamkīn and their emphasis on sobriety, as opposed to
intoxication (sukr, the experience of ecstasy), has its root in the teachings
of some of the most well-​known figures among early Sufis, such as Junayd
al-​Baghdādī (d. 297/​910)320 and Ḥārith al-​Muḥāsabī (d. 243/​857).321 In the
following passage, ʿAndalīb talks about different degrees of intoxication and
sobriety and refers to the different states of talwīn and tamkīn.

First, the wayfarer reaches the status of intoxication and changing of


states (talwīn). Then, he attains the status of sobriety and stability of
states (tamkīn), meaning from unconsciousness to permanent sobriety.
Intoxication and sobriety have two levels. The first status of sobriety is for
common people (awām kaʾl-​anʿām, “animal-​like humans”) and is without
any spiritual advantage. The second level of sobriety is for wayfarers and
occurs after the status of intoxication. Sobriety has two levels; the first is
the sobriety of novices (sing. mubtadī) in which they lose their conscious-
ness. The second is for Sufis in the middle ranks (sing. mutawassiṭ) that
are conscious from head to feet, although they are actually intoxicated.
When the wayfarer finds a connection with the heart, he will find
intoxication under the influence of the relation with the heart (munāsibat-​
i qalbī). He frequently loses his consciousness. Gradually, he will find con-
sciousness and then a stable state and eventually sobriety. And he attains
stability of the states of the heart. However, he still sometimes has the
state of intoxication and he is intoxicated. It is not possible to call him
either an intoxicated man or a sober one. This state is better than both
the state of sobriety experienced by the common people and the state of
intoxication of the novices.322

In his description, the Khāliṣ Muḥammadī’s state is the highest, that of


quieting (taskīn), which he connects with becoming like a pauper (faqīr or
miskīn).323 The status of miskīn can be analyzed according to Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s
Sufism in which the walīs in the last stage of wilāya are destitute (muflis), since
they passed all stations and have reached the station of no station (lā maqām)
or the highest degree of perfection that led to having a direct connection with
the Prophet and for this reason as it has been referred, they deserve to be
called Muḥammadī.324 ʿAndalīb says:

The wayfarer has the state of talwīn in his journey in the manifestation of
the [divine] names and attributes, and he has the state of tamkīn when he
172  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
sees the manifestation of essence. After these two states, the wayfarer will
obtain the state of taskīn. In one ḥadīth, it has been narrated: “O God!
Let me die in poverty and unite me [on the day of resurrection] such as a
miskīn.” The state of poverty (miskana) comes after seeing the manifest-
ation of the essence.

That people who follow the status of tamkīn


And that sect who follows the way of talwīn
When one of them died, they called him miskīn.
At the end, all follow the miskīn.325

The state of talwīn, experienced by the people of intoxication (sukrīs), leads


to ecstatic expressions (shaṭḥiyyāt). They consider themselves to have reached
the relationship of ʿayniyya with God. ʿAndalīb states that they attain the
state of being (wujūd), but consider it to be the state of the divine essence. This
mistake leads them to assume that the divine essence is flowing throughout
all of creation. Then, they yell, “all beings are Him.” They do not under-
stand that all of the created beings are simply the signs of the divine names
and attributes. The divine essence is ineffable and there is nothing opposite
to God’s essence, and since the opposite of being is nonexistence (ʿadam),
it would not be possible for being to also be the divine Essence. In conse-
quence, the conflation of being with the divine essence is the infidelity of the
path (kufr-​i ṭarīqa) and hidden polytheism (shirk-​i khafī).326 Those who utter
such shaṭḥiyyāt are in the ascending arc of the path and have not completed
the descending arc.327 Their belief is under the influence of changes in their
external and spiritual journeys. Thus, in the relationship of ʿayniyya, unlike
that of maʿiyya, there is a high possibility of erring on the path. This is the
reason that such ecstatic mystics must not be followed.328 To advance any
closer to God, they must all pass the next stage, the descending arc, which is
characterized by sobriety and the understanding of duality and maʿiyya.329

Criticism toward Polytheism and Innovations on the Path


ʿAndalīb, like other Muslim thinkers in India, deals with the problems of
living in an area where the majority of the population was non-​Muslim. Unity,
hostility, conflict and coexistence between Hindus and Muslims were main
concerns for Muslim rulers and thinkers, since the Mughal Empire was a major
opportunity for Islam in India that enjoyed its peak years from the sixteenth
century through the middle of the eighteenth century, when Mughal rule began
to be eroded by regional powers as well as British colonialism.330 Throughout
the history of Sufism in India, Sufi teachings are replete with instances of
both acceptance and rejection of Hinduism. One of the distinguishing
achievements in Indian Sufism was Dārā Shukūh’s (d. 1069/​1659) approach to
the faith, as found in his work Majmaʿ al-​baḥrayn (composed in 1065/​1655)
and Sirr-​i Akbar which is a translation of the Upanishads (completed in 1067/​
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  173
1657).331 This was an endeavor to bridge the gap between Islam and Hinduism
through a common mystical language that rejects a sharp distinction between
Muslim and non-​Muslim.332 Accused by Shuhūdīs of being careless about
the observance of sharīʿa, Dārā Shukūh became embroiled in a conflict with
Aurangzeb, his brother, whose religious policies some have traced back to the
Naqshbandī Mujaddidī influence of Sirhindī’s attitude. In fact, the two dis-
tinct tendencies of these brothers was a manifestation of the struggle between
religious tolerance and orthodoxy.333 The Muslim historian, Khāfī Khān
defined the objectives of Aurangzeb as having been the curbing of the infidels
and the demonstration of the differences between the abode of Islam (dār al-​
Islam) and the abode of war (dār al-​ḥarb).334 In this struggle, alongside other
orthodox currents, ʿAndalīb’s family, particularly his ancestors, who married
into Prince Murād Bakhsh’s family, pledged their allegiance to Aurangzeb.335
With this background, ʿAndalīb criticizes the failings of contemporary Sufis
vis-​à-​vis Hindu influences. He calls them (particularly intoxicated Sufis [sukrī]
or Wujūdī Sufis) ilāhiyya (in Sufi terms, an esoteric cult) and considers them
as dahriyya (pagans)336, since they break down the borders of orthodox Islam
under the influence of indigenous movements from within Hinduism, such as
Bhakti devotionalism and (Advaita) Vedanta, which believes in oneness or
non-​duality.337
The reaction to Hinduism, however, was varied among ʿAndalīb’s
Naqshbandī Mujaddidī contemporaries. Like him, Shāh Walī Allāh
considered the purification of Sufism from Indian religious elements as the
most important task at hand. He staunchly asserted his disagreement over
the tolerance and openness of popular Sufism that allowed for the adoption
of Hindu practices.338 He believed that the Hindus’ pantheistic attitude, along
with their indigenous customs, laws and the ethical influence of their rituals,
came to be reflected in the Wujūdīs’ practice, thus causing the dissemination
of polytheism (shirk) and innovations (bidʿa) which threatened Islam’s integ-
rity.339 The ideas of ʿAndalīb and Shāh Walī Allāh were in opposition to the
tolerant perspective of Mīrzā Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān. The latter endeavored
to develop a close relationship between Muslims and Hindus. Hindus were
welcome at his khānaqāh and he regarded the Vedas as revealed scripture
and Hinduism as a monotheistic religion. From his perspective, Rama and
Krishna were considered as prophets in India.340
ʿAndalīb does not deny the benefit of some methods that Sufis have in
common with indigenous mystical teachings. He uses the breathing methods
of the Yogis, in addition to his confirmation of 16 yogic postures as being
particularly beneficial, in order to purify the soul and the heart and also
to keep oneself healthy. He maintains that physical exercises and health
are emphasized in the ḥadīth, since the Prophet says that the body must be
regulated and controlled with regard to the three categories of food, drink,
and breathing.341 ʿAndalīb uses this ḥadīth to support the principle of mod-
eration on the path which encourages equilibrium in everything from eating
to one’s style of clothing.342 He also draws parallels between Islam and
174  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
indigenous faiths, for instance, by asserting the similarity between ṣalāt and
meditation in Yoga.343 In his eyes, a comparison between the Yogis’ teachings
and Islamic practices discloses the superiority of the latter, since it is a com-
bination of practices for the purification of the body and wisdom. He also
refers to theological aspects of different local groups, in addition to their rit-
uals and practices, such as the adherents of Patanjali’s teachings, who make a
distinction between the Creator and the world; the followers of non-​dualistic
Advaita Vedanta, who consider the Creator and creation as one and believe
in God manifesting in the form of avatars who are incarnations of divinity;
and Jainism, which believes not in God, but rather in the order of nature.344
In essence, although difficult practices in Yoga, the word itself meaning “to
unite,” are very helpful for the body, its aim is the same as that of the Wujūdīs,
that is finding sameness and union, hence their pains gain nothing.345 In brief
and as Schimmel notes, it can be judged that to ʿAndalīb, all Yogic practices
are lower than what a Muslim mystic can know through meditation, because
he has connection to the Prophet.346

Criticism toward the Superiority of Sainthood


Among Sufi circles in ʿAndalīb’s time, heated discussions took place
concerning the superiority of either prophets or saints, more precisely friends
of God, since there was an overlap between the spiritual status of the Prophet
and that of the saints.347 Some adherents of the Wujūdī perspective under-
stood wilāya as the higher spiritual status, while followers of the shuhūdī point
of view maintained the superiority of prophethood. Impressed by Sirhindī’s
thinking, ʿAndalīb along with Shāh Walī Allāh upheld the supreme status
of prophethood.348 ʿAndalīb challenges the Wujūdī belief that the saint has
an accidental (iʿtibārī) relationship of ʿayniyya with his own lord (one of
the divine names) which is only in the realm of the imagination (khayāl).
However, a prophet has an essential (ḥaqīqī) relationship of maʿiyya with the
Lord of the world, which is in the realm of reality. When Muḥammad is the
intermediary between man and God, those saints who are annihilated in him
are the representatives of his spirituality. This point of view gives emphasis
to the significance of prophethood based on Sirhindī’s attitudes. From this
perspective, when the wilāya of a nabī is compared with his nubuwwa, the
latter is extolled over the former, since prophets (nabī) return to this world.
As a perfection of man, the Prophet sets the highest example to be followed.
Therefore, the Prophet is the criterion by which the walī and wilāya is to be
judged.349

Criticism of the Shaykh-​Disciple Relationship


In spite of his assertion that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb can substitute for a shaykh in
the absence of true guidance, the role of a spiritual master remains significant
in ʿAndalīb’s Sufism, but with sharp criticism. ʿAndalīb’s negative opinion
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  175
toward the veneration of shaykhs by their disciples led him to believe in the
necessity of a reformulation of the shaykh-​disciple relationship. ʿAndalīb
distinguishes himself and his followers from the circles of popular Sufis and
the diversity of khānaqāhs during his time by referring to the place of his
disciples’ gathering as a faqīr khāna (“a house for paupers”), calling him-
self a faqīr and underscoring his uwaysī initiation. Moreover, he rejects the
practice among Sufis of tracing their spiritual lineages (sing. nasab) back to
the Prophet through a chain (silsila) of what he sees as an excessive number
of mediators. Instead, ʿAndalīb claims to have a direct connection with the
Prophet and al-​Ḥasan b. ʿAlī. He, along with Shāh Walī Allāh, felt that there
was a lack of truly competent shaykhs, and he rejected many purported spir-
itual guides as charlatans. Both ʿAndalīb and Shāh Walī Allāh also believe
that shaykhs have the important task of providing guidance and instruction
to their disciples.350 Thus ʿAndalīb does not deny the significant role of the
guide, but he does reject the notion of the shaykh being the absolute authority
on the path. He complains that in his time the shaykhs are unable to recognize
the inner character and nature of their disciples.351 Furthermore, the disciples
consider the shaykhs’ decrees as holding the same weight as the divine laws
or the Prophet’s sayings and when the shaykhs order acts which are contrary
to Islamic law in order to test the faith of their disciples, all obey unques-
tioningly. These shaykhs separated their ways from those of others according
to their own interpretations of Islam and founded orders under their own
names.352 Due to this viewpoint, ʿAndalīb makes a critical separation between
his ṭarīqa and those of others, especially with respect to his heavy emphasis
on replacing the disciple-​master relationship with friendship, love, loyalty and
sincerity, while also explicitly doing away with the traditional chain of trans-
mission. Nonetheless, ʿAndalīb does not ignore the advantages of dedication
to a shaykh in the beginning of the path, since the shaykh is like a spiritual
physician (ṭabīb-​i rūḥānī) who can heal the disciple from the diseases of his
own sensual and brutal desires.353

Since you are a squint-​eyed man, your lord is your shaykh at first.354
If you take the first step in the right way, you will attain to the destin-
ation. For this, the shaykh’s guidance is necessary at the beginning of the
path.355

From this perspective, the wayfarer is following (tabaʿiyya) and imitating


(taqlīd) the shaykh. Thus, the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya gives preference to
intimate companionship (ṣuḥba) and guidance (irshād), through which the
disciples are led to a transformative process of advancing toward mystical
union. The master is the mediator for the ultimate goal of the path which is
reaching the state of with-​ness (maʿiyya) with the Prophet and gaining access
to the divine manifestations through the prophets.356 This means that through
annihilation in the shaykh, the disciple can attain the state of love and annihi-
lation in the Prophet, since a certain ḥadīth says, “a person will be summoned
176  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
with the one whom he loves.”357 In fact, obedience to the Qurʾān and the
Prophet requires obedience to the ūlu al-​amr (“those in authority”)358 for
those new issues which are not addressed by the sharīʿa. Hence the relation-
ship between disciples and the master is different from that of other ṭarīqas
in which the master is like the Prophet and the disobedient disciple is like an
infidel.359

Criticism of Otherworldly Sufism and Quietism


ʿAndalīb’s criticism targets the influences of otherworldly and quietist styles
of Sufism. His tendency toward mystical sobriety is combined with a prefer-
ence for companionship (ṣuḥba) over solitude (khalwa) as well as for social
engagement, which allows wayfarers to live amongst the people throughout
the ups and downs experienced by society.360 The wayfarer returns to the
world (descending arc, qaws al-​nuzūl) after passing through different stages
of the path (ascending arc, qaws al-​ʿurūj) while still remaining with God, or
as Arthur Buehler describes it, the wayfarer has become “extraordinarily
ordinary.”361 Schimmel calls this outlook, “an active social style of moral
piety,”362 and Fazlur Rahman asserts that such worldly Sufism was inspired
by the Prophet, who himself engaged in social and political activities and had
a family life after his ascension to God.363
Thus, worldly affairs became a part of ʿAndalīb’s mystical worldview.
Regarding marriage as a symbol of worldly matters, ʿAndalīb believes in
the superiority of a married dervish over an unmarried one.364 This positive
attitude toward involvement in the world and the drawing of a connection
between worldly and spiritual life was an issue from the very beginning of
Sufism. It has also been a major defining characteristic of the Naqshbandiyya
which was reaffirmed in Sirhindī’s Sufism. In a time of decline, ʿAndalīb
focuses on social wellbeing for the Muslim community.365 In the following
passage, he mentions personal praiseworthy attributes, and then he refers to
the social function and responsibility of each wayfarer.

In the nightingale’s path and in the rose’s mashrab, it is necessary to be


an eloquent speaker, a pleasant, moral and good-​tempered man with a
sweet smell and to be a caresser. You should provide happiness, comfort,
gladness, tranquility, pleasure and convenience for the others’ ear, eye,
mood, soul and body. You should be helpful to others and do not put
your burden on the shoulders of others’.366

From ʿAndalīb’s standpoint, to put it succinctly, the best of people are those
who do good for others, providing them comfort and accommodation.367 This
reconciling of worldly affairs with religious matters by the sincere Sufi is a
difficult task, thus ʿAndalīb outlines some reasons why many wayfarers fail
to complete it.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  177
The following are some reasons for failing to reconcile worldly affairs with
religious matters. First, one lacks the inner ability to reconcile between
these two contradictory things. Second is the absence of the truth of know-
ledge. Thus it is a lack of understanding the wisdom of this reconciliation
[…] Third is the inability to control the inner and outer senses […]368

In this point of view, benefiting from the world is permissible by observing


the guidelines on what is allowed versus forbidden in sharīʿa, since the world
is a necessary thing and a prerequisite for obtaining salvation in the here-
after.369 However, the wayfarer should be careful not to be overly occupied
with worldly affairs, which can become an obstacle on the path.370 Abstaining
from the world should only be done under the supervision of a shaykh.371
From this perspective, the importance of the body becomes clear. The way-
farer must use his body on the path and should therefore look after it, as the
ḥadīth states, “you owe a duty to your body.” The body is the horse of the
wayfarer372 and good health is requisite on the path.373 Thus, it is advisable to
eat well in order to be able to do good deeds.374 However, the wise man looks
after the amount of food and drink he consumes and avoids overeating and
oversleeping, which will lead to becoming lazy and heedless. The idle body is
like an unusable iron, covered with rust.375

How strange is the situation of one who is love-​sick (bīmār-​i maḥabbat),


since his body is weak,
He is unable to bear the burden of the heavy loads of companionship
because of his feebleness.376

ʿAndalīb believes that spirituality must arrive on the scene to revive and
empower Muslim society in the affairs of the world. For him, sitting in soli-
tude and abandoning the world are not intrinsically advantageous in and of
themselves, and they are also not the only ways to salvation, but rather what is
more important is rectitude in life. The wise abandonment of the world is that
which leads spiritually to the figurative kingdom (salṭanat-​i majāzī). Although
some practices such as purifying the heart, fearing God and training the
soul,377 as well as religious devotion, invocation of God, self-​mortification and
the obtaining of praiseworthy attributes are all requisite for obtaining salva-
tion in the hereafter, they are not all that is required.378 In the following verses,
ʿAndalīb considers the importance of the Naqshbandī principle of solitude
within the crowd (khalwat dar anjuman), in which the mystic contributes to
society and attaches himself outwardly to ordinary life, yet inwardly to the
afterlife through remembrance of God.

For mystics, wearing the garment of poverty is a failure [on the path].
Wearing normal, everyday clothing, the same as other people, conceals
and prevents one from gaining fame […]
178  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
The great number of people [around oneself] is not an obstacle for the
mystic’s union
Most of the time, the solitude of this group is among the assembly.379

After elucidating this preference for inward abandonment of the world (tark-​i
ḥikmī), as opposed to its outward abandonment (tark-​i ṣūrī), ʿAndalīb advises
following the rightly-​ guided caliphs, whose characters demonstrate their
worldly concerns alongside their high degree of spiritual attainment.380

The king is a wayfarer who should bring together the world and religion,
so that neither of them damages the other. Should this not have been pos-
sible, the rightly-​guided caliphs, who had attained abandonment of the
world, would not have accepted the caliphate and none of the prophets
would have reigned and the world would not have become the farm for
the afterlife.

Both religion and the world pass through the light


These are two seas which reach one ocean (muḥīṭ).381

Their kingdoms were mixed with spiritual poverty, meaning that they exem-
plified ascetic devotion and piety. From this perspective, it can be assumed
that the idea of tark-​i ḥikmī in the manners of the rightly-​guided caliphs is an
emphasis on having an active social life and paying attentions toward political
affairs. In this regard, he recommends working and activity during the day.

O seeker of concentration (jamʿiyya) while earning one’s livelihood,


listen to the lamentation of the nightingale and be at ease.
If you believe in two worlds truthfully and certainly,
worship God during the night and endeavor [for life] during the
morning.382

Therefore, ʿAndalīb as a representative of Sufi intellectuals considers the role


of wayfarers as members of the Muslim community in the eighteenth cen-
tury. Thus he refers to the true faqr, and the faqīr is not a very poor person
in a worldly sense, but he is free from all that is other than God. This is a
Naqshbandī feature of his teachings that found more importance in that spe-
cific time and place. According to Weismann, the principle of solitude within
the crowd (khalwat dar anjuman), along with that of travelling in the home-
land (safar dar waṭan), encourages Naqshbandīs to maintain their worldly
concerns and continue their vocations, whether in the bazaar or at court.383

Criticism of Sufi Involvement with Theological and Jurisprudential Debates


To bring this section to a close, ʿAndalīb’s criticisms of the Sufis of his time
who were engaged in debates among theologians, jurists and philosophers
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  179
must be scrutinized.384 For ʿAndalīb, who rejects any ways of thought that
add fuel to the disunity in Islam, the increasingly divergent tendencies in
theology and jurisprudence must be reoriented towards a return to the ori-
ginal and pristine form of Islam. He considers the diverse theological doubts
and hesitation in such debates as fruitless, harmful and a hindrance to per-
ceiving the true faith, the correct understanding of Islam, and thus spreading
the darkness of ignorance among all Muslims, from Sufis to the common
people.385
In continuation of the discussion of the wujūdiyya, who are held as
representatives of an incorrect understanding of Islam, he described them as
an ignorant group of Sufis who are all impeded in their efforts to know God in
the same way that the Greek sages were.386 Many of them give credence to the
attitudes of rationalists who prioritize reason over faith, such as the Peripatetics
(Mashāʾiyya) and Illuminationists (Ishrāqiyya).387 Furthermore, he deals with
their beliefs and ideas in several pages of his work, explaining many doctrinal
disputes among various theological trends, such as the Rāfiḍiyya, Ghāliyya,
Khārijiyya, Kanziyya, Muʿtaziliyya, Maymūniyya, Jābiriyya, Qādariyya,
Jahmiyya, Murjiʾa, Dahriyya, Karrāmiyya or Ibāḥiyya.388 He addresses these
groups of Muslims in the following verses.

Till when will you continue to talk nonsense


and teach the passion of necessity and possibility?
A pretense of having knowledge removed the sweetness of negligence.
It made bitter the sleep of all and they speak nonsense.389

Our reason remains astonished and bewildered.


In fact, love is our guide in Islam.390

O heart, how long do you seek to obtain knowledge at school?


And try to know the principles of philosophy and geometry?
All things except the act of remembering God are temptation
Be ashamed in front of God; how long do you want to be tempted?391

Facing increasing Shiʿi ijtihādāt along with the growing inclination among
disciples to imitate their shaykhs in matters of jurisprudence, ʿAndalīb sees
these Shiʿi scholars and Sufi shaykhs as innovators in Islam for issuing such
decrees.392 The central role of sharīʿa in his path draws attention to fiqh, and
in a discussion regarding the partial ablution (wuḍūʾ) among Sunnis and
Shiʿa, he asserts that the religious laws (aḥkām al-​sharīʿa) are the Prophet’s
ijtihādāt. Thus, obedience to the Prophet’s ijtihād and command, which
have been proven in the obligatory text (naṣṣ), is like obedience to the divine
command.393 Therefore, the fallacious ijtihād of others who consider them-
selves the authorities of the Muslim community, like the large number of
mujtahids and Sufi masters with their various tendencies, endangers Islam.
Thus, once more he stresses the importance of ḥadīth as the only source, after
180  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
the Qurʾān, for mujtahids to know the Prophet and to issue correct decrees. In
conclusion, ʿAndalīb rejects the debates over juridical issues in the different
schools of fiqh. Although he acknowledges the reliability of the Ḥanafī and
Shāfiʿī schools, he believes that all of the conflicts among different groups in
terms of following various mujtahids according to their madhhab (Ḥanafiyya,
Mālikiyya, Shāfiʿiyya, Ḥanbaliyya) demonstrate how false understandings of
Islam had come to separate Muslims from each other.394 He attributes this
division among the umma to the worldly desires of contemporary mujtahids,
who stir up unnecessary conflicts regarding legal issues. If they had attained
the utmost piety or the required special knowledge of the Qurʾān and sunna,
their decrees (fatāwā, sing. fatwā) would not have distinguished one group of
Muslims from the others.395
This section concludes that the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya offers deep insights
into the reorientation of Sufism due to its strict critical perspective toward
all contemporary Sufi activities and the rejection of any Wujūdī notions in
debates on the matter of tawḥīd. ʿAndalīb’s lament was over increasing innov-
ation, spreading polytheism and giving priority to wilāya. Forgetting the
importance of the Prophet among Muslims was reflected in the misguiding
of disciples on one hand and blind obedience to shaykhs on the other hand.
The weakness of the community was the result of paying no attention to the
above-​mentioned points critiqued by the Sufi reformist trend of that age. The
only way to save Sufism from the indigenous influences of Hinduism and
deviations was practice according to the sharīʿa. ʿAndalīb scrutinizes theo-
logical and juridical concerns among Sufis during his lifetime and considers
how vulnerable they were in light of the unsteady situation of Muslims vis-​à-​
vis indigenous powers.

Khāliṣ Muḥammadīs: Inhabitants of Sacred India


Having thus far considered the dire state of the Muslims in India during
the eighteenth century, as well as explained the importance of the Prophet
Muḥammad in ʿAndalīb’s thought, the topic now addressed is how ʿAndalīb
applies his perspective on the spirituality of the Prophet by introducing the
Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya in order to improve the position of Muslims with
respect to the other groups in society, thus reviving the power they had lost.
This chapter discusses how he calls for a reform in Islamic thought that ought
not be restricted to only the holy places in Arabia, but must also include other
parts of the Muslim world. Among these, for ʿAndalīb, India in particular is
highlighted. We examine how he continues and further develops the Indian
reformist tradition of Sirhindī and his sharīʿa-​minded followers, which is also
a part of wider reform efforts throughout the Muslim world. As a way of
emancipating Muslims from the difficulties of the time, ʿAndalīb promotes
the notion that in India, there has always been an enduring presence of
followers of the Muḥammadiyya, or true Islam, going all the way back to the
time of Adam. His narrative creates a triad consisting of Adam, Muḥammad
and the Mahdī; it argues that the actual origins of the Muslims lies in the
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  181
east; and it emphasizes the notion of India being a spiritual territory of Islam
and a sacred land for Muslims. After discussing these ideas, this chapter will
explore what ʿAndalīb sees as the causes behind the catastrophic conditions
the Muslims found themselves in to uncover exactly how this issue is related
to the topics already discussed in the section on ʿAndalīb’s Prophetology and
the role of the Prophet as the helper.

The Legend of Ghulām Khākī


ʿAndalīb masterfully expresses his thought regarding the continuous presence
of Islam in India through an allegorical sub-​plot. The symbolic legend of
Ghulām Khākī, a name meaning “Terrestrial Servant,”396 is expounded in the
space of 227 pages and is one of the many sub-​plots of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. He
asserts that the legend contains secrets and mysteries, and because of this,
mystics have called it “the mirror of the universe” (al-​mirʾāt al-​ʿālam).397
The character Khākī was a farmer from Arabia,398 who was appointed to a
very high position in the court by Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins (“King of Jinns and
Humans,” who symbolizes God). The legend applies certain elements from
the story of Adam, the first human being and the first prophet, and thus,
his adventure parallels the story of Adam and his fall, though with some
differences.399 Here, Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn reminds us of Satan, a jinn who was
made from fire and whom Khākī was admonished to avoid. The King forbade
Khākī from going to a tavern (maykhāna), since drinking wine would cause
him to become heedless and render him unconscious. It would furthermore
bring about his corruption.400 The King loved Khākī and paid a great deal of
attention to him. One night, he manifested himself to Khākī in a dream. After
seeing the divine beauty of the King, Khākī fell into ecstasy, although he was
unable to recognize or explain who it was that he had seen in the dream. He
experienced a deep love for this unknown beloved, becoming restless, sick and
distracted. Ḥakīm claimed that he could cure Khākī’s illness with wine.401 At
this point in the text, a number of long discussions ensued between Ḥakīm
and Khākī. The former tried to convince the latter to drink the wine, but
was unsuccessful through argumentation or persuasive words and thus sent
a deceptive woman to entrap him. Khākī succumbed to the woman’s tempta-
tion and went to the tavern and drank wine with her. Because of this disobedi-
ence, he was then deposed from his position and expelled from the court.402
The remainder of the story connects Khākī with India, telling of his
being sentenced to exile in the “orient,” and of his nostalgia for his paradisal
homeland (the two cities of Jābulqā and Jābulsā on Jannat Naẓīr Island),
see Table 3.1. In the mystical geography of the legend, as Table 3.2 shows,

Table 3.1 The journey of Ghulām Khākī


182  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
Table 3.2 Mystical geography of the legend of Ghulām Khākī

Jerusalem Head
Arabia Heart
Mecca Navel
India Foot

Jannat Naẓīr Island was located in the highest part of the universe above
the entire world, that is, beyond the seven climes (haft iqlīm)403 and the seven
floors of the earth. Jannat Naẓīr is the head of the universe while Arabia is
the heart of the world, Mecca is its navel, or the center of the world, since the
Prophet arose from Mecca, and he spread his message from there, and India
is its foot. In other pages, ʿAndalīb also describes Jerusalem as corresponding
with Jannat Naẓīr Island, and likewise he considers Rūm and Shām as the
highest of heavens.404 Jābulqā and Jābulsā are two cities on Jannat Naẓīr
Island which are dwelling places for humans.405 The inhabitants of the cities
are from the lowest world (ʿālam al-​suflā).406 The wisdom behind the establish-
ment of these two cities was for the manifestation of the divine attributes,
both those of beauty and of majesty, thus they are symbols for paradise and
hell.407 Accordingly, the author draws attention to the hidden meanings of the
names of the cities as poetic similes. ʿAndalīb states:

If you can’t discern the flood from a drop


how can you understand the terms of the world of mysticism?
Gallop [on horseback] from Jābulqā to Jābulsā
till you can understand the secret of the closing and opening of eyes.408

In India, Khākī was impatient and wandered from one place to another until he
was able to grasp in his heart God’s presence in the diversity of creation. Thus,
India is a land from which Khākī must find a way to Jannat Naẓīr Island, and
it became the place of repentance, revelation and the starting point from which
to embark on the journey toward paradise. The location of India is particu-
larly noteworthy in the history of Islamic mystical thought, since in the Ishrāqī
school of Shihāb al-​Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī, the east is the symbol of the lumi-
nous world, namely the world of pure light, the land of reality and truth or the
world of those who are brought near to God (muqarrabīn).409 The movement
of the spirit (a descending arc) originally proceeds from the east towards the
west (that is, from the world of sprits, or ʿālam al-​arwāḥ, toward the world of
bodies, or ʿālam al-​ajsād), and then the return movement (an ascending arc)
progresses from the west toward the east in order to reach the origin and to
become gradually completed.410 It should be mentioned that in the main plot
of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, the protagonist, himself a symbol of the Prophet’s spir-
ituality, undertakes an epic journey, the route of which spans from Arabia to
India (from west to east). India is presented as the land of love and passion,
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  183
thus it is the best of places and a pleasant land411 where the hero attains unity
with his divine beloved and finds the mystical prophetic knowledge, which is
represented symbolically as a spell-​breaking jewel (shāh muhra).412
Like many Sufi authors, ʿAndalīb applies a number of features from the
legend of Adam in writing about divine forgiveness and kindness.413 Khākī was
forgiven because of his consistency on the path of love and changes gradually
took place in his character, being transformed from a servant who received the
highest position to a lover who yearned to find his beloved, then to a sinner
who repented of his sins, a perfect man who deserved to attain union with
God, a vicegerent of God who had finished the ascending arc of the path and
began the descending arc toward the earth, a messenger who received revela-
tion and read verses from the divine book and invited people to obey the divine
laws, a mediator and a shaykh by whom the people would attain salvation.
The question now, however, is what exactly lies between India and Jannat
Naẓīr Island? Here, India is where the hero undergoes certain preparatory
ordeals (riyāḍa). In order to reach the island, Khākī had to pass the seven dan-
gerous seas (the sea of selfishness, the maelstrom of pleasures and the waves
of sensual desires and blameworthy attributes). Then, he had to pass through
four terrible valleys (the valleys of hunger and thirst, of pain and agony, of
disaster and hardship, and finally, of fear and panic). What allowed him to
successfully pass through each of these valleys was a series of positive personal
characteristics. In the first valley, he was successful through patience (ṣabr),
contentment (qanāʿa), altruism (īthār) and bravery (shujāʿa); in the second,
through submission (taslīm), acceptance (riḍā), spiritual aspiration (himma)
and continence of heart (ʿiffa); in the third, forbearance (ḥilm), knowledge
(ʿilm), righteousness (istiqāma) and justice (ʿidāla); and in the last valley, love
(ishq), kindness (maḥabba), eagerness (shawq), and bravery (shujāʿa).414 After
passing the last valley, as a reward, the King permitted him to drink pure
divine wine (al-​sharāb al-​ṭahūr). After drinking it, Khākī became intoxicated
and was overwhelmed by divine love.

The Manifestation of the Muḥammadan Reality and India


The legend also establishes a three-​ fold association between Adam,
Muḥammad and India. The remainder of the story is connected with the story
of the Prophet Muḥammad, whom ʿAndalīb introduces as the leader and true
shaykh of the Muḥammadan path. As the following verses from the narrator,
or bulbul (nightingale, a symbol of the Prophet Muḥammad), disclose:

I wrote this symbolic allusion to my status,


but only a familiar person can understand what is purported.415

Similar to the Prophet Muḥammad’s heirs, al-​khulafāʾ al-​rāshidūn, Khākī had


four companions, as Table 3.3 shows. These companions are symbolically
portrayed as four birds: a falcon, a parrot, a crane, and a hoopoe.
184  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
Table 3.3 Characterization in the legend

Ghulām Khākī Muḥammad/​Adam


Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins God
Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn Satan/​Iblīs
Four birds al-​Khulafāʾ al-​rāshidūn

Khākī invites people to embody the Muḥammadan virtues and tempera-


ment (khulq-​i Muḥammadī). Khākī is described as being of the Ādamī mashrab,
meaning that his theosophical persuasion (mashrab) and states (aḥwāl) on the
path of love are related to Adam.416 From a mystical point of view, Adam and
Muḥammad are two manifestations of the Muḥammadan Reality (al-​Ḥaqīqat
al-​Muḥammadiyya), or the primordial spiritual reality of Muḥammad.
ʿAndalīb builds a dyad of shakhṣ-​i muqaddam/​insān-​i muʾakhkhar or Adam/​
Muḥammad to show how Khākī, as the archetypal human being, is the first
man (shakhṣ-​i muqaddam) of the entire spiritual hierarchy, whereas he calls
Muḥammad the last man (insān-​i muʾakhkhar) of this hierarchy.417 Being
the last man means that the Prophet Muḥammad, from among all of the
descendants of Adam, has the most complete knowledge regarding God’s
infinite names and attributes. ʿAndalīb describes Muḥammad thus:

Your name is the first in the [list of spiritual] ranking,


although you are the last one in the degrees of being brought into
existence.418

The nightingale is the man of non-​existence (shakhṣ-​i ʿadam), a description


that refers to the Prophet’s primordial existence as the Muḥammadan Reality,
that existed before the creatures came into being and from which the seven
heavens were created.419 The following verse, in which the nightingale describes
himself, reveals an ambiguity between the characterizations of Khākī and the
nightingale:

You can consider me the man of non-​existence (shakhṣ-​i ʿadam)


or Khākī.
When no one was on the earth, I was.420
I am the pole and axis of the existence of two worlds,
I am the nail of earth and heaven.421

Ultimately, this legend provides ʿAndalīb with an opportunity to build a triad


linking the exile of Adam and the appearance of the Prophet Muḥammad with
the advent of the Mahdī. Thus, Adam was the self-​disclosure of the Reality of
Muḥammad, and his offspring and the friends of God would remain in India.
The most perfect and the last manifestation of the Muḥammadan Reality
would be the Mahdī, which is explained in the following passage.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  185
From Khākī’s offspring, one world-​illuminating sun would appear. He
will have the status of “being the beloved” (maḥbūbiyya). He is the guide
(ḥādī) and the Mahdī of time whose reality, such a hidden treasure, is
concealed in Khākī’s nature and form. The nature of Khākī must be
purified through the difficulties of the path of love in order to become
the most purified elixir (pure gold from a handful of clay). Then it will
merit the emergence of the Mahdī. For this reason, after union in the
ascending arc comes the stage of separation and return to the world in
the descending arc.422

ʿAndalīb emphasizes the character of the Mahdī in the following verses:

About whom am I talking?


About whom am I making one hundred precise points?
He is the Mahdī. I stopped thinking
and I am talking about him423

This explanation demonstrates that the sun of the Muḥammadan Reality


has always shined in India as the place that connects human beings with the
divine world. Prophethood, like a hidden treasure, was conveyed from Adam
to the prophets and via the Prophet Muḥammad to the Mahdī.

Sacredness of India and the Eighteenth-​Century Muslim Community


To answer the question of where this belief in the holiness of India originated,
one can turn to Ᾱzād Bilgrāmī’s thought (d. 1200/​1786) as found in his work,
Ṣubḥat al-​marjān fi āthār Hindustan (composed in 1177/​1764). A ḥadīth in
which India (in fact, Ceylon) is regarded as the place of the fall of Adam to
earth after his expulsion from paradise has been the most influential source
in generating the idea of the sacredness of India for Muslims. In the tenth
century, Muḥammad Ibn Jarīr al-​Ṭabarī (d. 310/​923), played an influential
role in elaborating this idea when he dealt with the topic in his work on
history, Taʾrīkh al-​rusul waʾl-​mulūk.424 The sacredness of India became a
notable topic in the Persian work Hasht bihisht, by the Chishtī Sufi poet
and musician Amīr Khusraw Dihlawī, wherein he considered India to be
paradise on earth.425 Turning to eighteenth-​century India, while ʿAndalīb
chose the method of indirect expression by way of legendary tales filled
with ambiguity; Bilgrāmī explains this idea, as noted by Ernst, “by reference
to the highest scriptural authorities in Islam, the Qurʾān and ḥadīth, scru-
pulously citing his sources and keeping his own commentary separate.”426
Nonetheless, the similarities between elements of ʿAndalīb’s legend and
what Ernst outlines from Bilgrāmī are still remarkable. As Nile Green points
out, Bilgrāmī’s work demonstrates the importance of attempts to assert an
ancient connection between India and the history of Islam, including its
prophets and saints.427
186  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
One may then ask how ʿAndalīb benefitted from this semi-​historical legend
in eighteenth-​century India. To answer this, contextualizing his work against
the background of a period of tremendous political and social upheaval
would indeed be illuminating. The needs of the Muslim community influenced
ʿAndalīb’s mystical worldview, and his work was joined to the greater general
attempt of Muslim thinkers of the time to find the reasons behind the cata-
strophic and chaotic situation Muslims found themselves in. In an Indian-​
Islamic topography, the notion of the sacredness of India, which introduced it
as a homeland for Muslims, was a response to the threat of non-​Muslims, who
inimically viewed Islamic hegemony over their ancestral land and their indi-
genous religions. The Muslim inhabitants of India that ʿAndalīb encounters
can be categorized into three main groups: first, the orthodox Muslims who
consider Arabia as the real homeland of Islam and Muslims;428 second, the
followers of the Naqshbandiyya, who drew inspiration from Transoxiana, the
homeland of their ṭarīqa, as the highest or holiest land (wilāyat al-​ʿawliyāʾ)
versus India as the lowest land (wilāyat al-​suflā);429 and third, Iranian nobles
of the Mughal court who did not belong to India and who looked to Iran as
the origin of culture.430 During that period of time, however, Muslims in India
deeply lamented Nādir Shāh’s invasion, the fall of Delhi in 1151/​1739 and the
Mughal emperor’s loss of authority.
With the legend of Ghulām Khākī, ʿAndalīb sought to raise hope among
the people, who were distraught and in need of consolation. The name of
his work brings it close to the shahr āshūb (literally meaning “shattered
city”) genre. According to Ralph Russell and Khurshidul Islam, such intense
experiences of misfortune marked not only the fall of Delhi, but also the
decline of an entire civilization, and in the eyes of the people, the entire uni-
verse.431 The day of the Iranian invasion that destroyed the glorious capital
of Delhi was for many Muslims, such as Mīr Taqī Mīr (d. 1224/​1810), like
the Day of Judgment. From a theological perspective, the idea that religious
failings and a lack of faith were the causes of the suffering of the Muslims
was increasingly widespread in shahr āshūb works. The Muslim government
was seen as impotent and negligent in performing its function as a preserver
of Islam, but the explicit expression of criticism was not possible under the
reign of Muḥammad Shāh, who restricted historians in their recording of
major events, with particularly strong censorship regarding Nadir Shāh’s
invasion.432 The genre of shahr āshūb, however, was one means by which
it might be safer to express feelings, reactions and critical points of view
about the contemporary circumstances in Delhi without fear of suppression
and adverse repercussions. In this regard, from an historical and social per-
spective, the title of ʿAndalīb’s work points to a lamentation of the decline
of Islam in a collapsing India. In this sense, we could indeed say that it
belongs to the shahr āshūb body of literature, but his work is distinguished
by his attempt to also propound the Muḥammadan Path, and as a solution
for such dire circumstances at that. This aspect must be regarded as a part
of wider efforts to find ways of delivering Indian Muslims from their dire
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  187
circumstances, but ʿAndalīb does so without explicit reference to contem-
porary historical events.
The belief that the situation faced by the Muslims, whose society was
tormented by plundering, starvation and massacres, was divine punish-
ment for their sins contrasted with another perspective that interpreted
these circumstances as the manifestation of the attributes of divine maj-
esty. ʿAndalīb joined with those who attempted to restore Muslim dignity by
considering India as the place of emancipation, and in doing so, he curiously
applied the positive points of the fall of Adam.433 This thought presented India
as the abode of vicegerency (dār al-​khilāfa), and as Malik interprets, since
“referring to Adam as the father of mankind and persuasively establishing
a connection between him as the first and Muḥammad as the last apostle
presented India as a space where God first empowered man to rule.”434 Malik
goes on to say, “Adam’s descent, produces meaning in which the past is sym-
bolically constituted as an unchangeable whole, situated ‘out of time,’ that is
out of history.” Hence, “the traditionality of religion implies the construction
of a place beyond chronology, and thereby gives significant meaning to the
present and contains the future by remembering the past.”435
ʿAndalīb asked the Muslims to be patient, since the extraordinary features
of the Muḥammadan Reality, which is comprehensive and includes all of
the divine attributes (jāmiʿ al-​jamīʿ al-​ṣifāt), came to greatly influence his
followers. The manifestation of wrath had created the difficult situation that
Adam faced. This pain in fact shows the supremacy of the Muslims and
strengthens their position, since they see the manifestation of the lordship of
Muḥammad, Lord of Lords (Rabb al-​Arbāb), who comprehensively reflects
all of the divine attributes.436 This suffering enhances the Muslims’ lofty
characteristics, and the severity and hardship they endure causes grief initially,
but after this comes delight and comfort.437 Conversely, the manifestation
of the divine attributes of beauty in this world is intended for unbelievers,
as exemplified in the ḥadīth, “the world is a prison for believers while it is
paradise for unbelievers,”438 and it is in the hereafter that the unbelievers will
experience the manifestation of divine majesty. Thus, the greatest suffering
is for those who will receive the greatest grace and will see the manifestation
of mercy in the hereafter.439 ʿAndalīb says that this suffering is in accordance
with the wisdom of God and all should resign themselves to it. God will grant
bounty in its due time. The secret of God’s wisdom is concealed for humans.440
The belief in the permanent presence of the Muḥammadiyya is a product
of the renewal of India as a sanctified homeland for Muslims. ʿAndalīb’s
thinking and influence continued to live on through the mystical ideas of his
son, Mīr Dard, who also considers India as a place blessed by the sun of the
Islamic religion. In this regard, Schimmel translates a portion of Mīr Dard’s
text as follows:

True, other countries like ʿIraq-​i ʿArab and ʿIraq-​i ʿAjam are closer in
distance to the radiant Medina than India and have been illuminated by
188  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
the sun of Prophecy earlier due to their proximity, and this remained so
as long as that Candle of Reality was shining in the visible world and
the twilight of this sun (namely the time of the caliphs and the guiding
imams) lasted. But after the setting of this soul-​enlightening sun from the
visible horizon of humanity and the disappearance of its twilight from
eyes, India, which because of its outward distance, appeared like the dark
night, became full of splendor from the light of this world-​embracing
sun thanks to the mirror holding the moon or sphere of sayyidship and
the Shah of the dynasty of the imamate (namely the noble existence
of the Excellence, the Prince of the Muhammadans) and thanks to the
radiance of this moon which is the individuation (taʿayyun) of the First
of Muhammadans, with strange subtlety of manifestations of Divine
Beauty. Now, until the morning of Resurrection the spreading of the light
of the spiritual bounty of the Muhammadan Path will firmly continue
for the world and its inhabitants. And God and Muhammad are always
Helper (Nāṣir) and friend, and everybody who has not found this light
has, in fact, turned away his face from the Muhammadan light, for the
light of the moon is taken from the light of the sun.441

According to ʿAndalīb’s thought, residing in sacred places causes people to be


promoted to a higher spiritual level. The Muslims in India had not benefited
from the influence of the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, yet the sanctity of
India goes back to Adam and after the advent of the Prophet Muḥammad,
spirituality shined there through the sayyids. The legend of Ghulām Khākī
emphasizes the importance of the helper and the intercessor, who is inspired
by the spirituality of Muḥammad, thus the personality of the Prophet was
emphasized in order to strengthen the Muslims. ʿAndalīb remarks that the
place of Muḥammad for God is that of a beloved servant, based on a ḥadīth
that states, “If you were not existent, I would not have created the heavens.”
Therefore, only Muḥammad could save the people, since according to the
Qurʾān, Muḥammad is “a mercy to the worlds.”442 His high state is confirmed
in another ḥadīth in which God says, “Muḥammad! If all the creations seek
for my consent, I seek for your consent.” ʿAndalīb mentions that Muḥammad
would be pleased with God, if God would help and forgive his followers.443
Such is the influence of the extraordinary figure of the Prophet Muḥammad,
who never leaves his followers without help and guidance.
In concluding this section, the narrative of the legend of Ghulām Khākī
can be considered as one piece of the overall puzzle of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, a
piece that must be understood in its Hindu-​Islamic context in order to show
how ʿAndalīb, as a resident of India, localizes his Sufism and emphasizes the
topography of India. It confirms that ʿAndalīb’s thought is a narrative of
the Mughal Empire’s experience after the invasions of Nādir Shāh as well as
under the pressure of Aḥmad Shāh Abdālī’s threat. It was shaped primarily
by the destruction of Delhi and is not too much concerned with the whole
of India, like Muslims in the Deccan, Bengal and Awadh. Nevertheless,
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  189
paramount in his writing is the sacredness of Hindustan and he does not
restrict this notion to North India and Delhi. The notion of a homeland for
Muslims (Muḥammadīs) is a response to those who considered Islam as a
foreign religion in India and Muslims as foreigners. It also stands in con-
trast to the views of those Muslims who restricted Islam to the borders of
Arabia, where it was regarded as the only true homeland of the Muslims
while other lands like India were called the land of the infidels. All of these
feelings of being lonely in India aroused a sense of instability and vulner-
ability for Muslims that was intensified by the drastic political changes. Such
thought was considered a threat to Muslims who encountered disunity and
inner struggles that separated them based on their ways of thinking in terms
of theological, jurisprudential and mystical issues. In the case of ʿAndalīb’s
work, the legend of Ghulām Khākī is replete with expressions of love for
India, and the presence of Adam is not intended to highlight his relation to
divine punishment; rather it demonstrates the holiness of the land. ʿAndalīb
narrates a Qurʾānic story, but he uses the structures of Hindu poetic litera-
ture on heroism to do so. He narrates the story of the presence of Muslims in
India by applying the concept of the Muḥammadan Reality, which connected
the fall of Adam in this land to the continued presence of the spirituality
of the Prophet Muḥammad. He ended his narration with the anticipation
of the birth of the Mahdī and believed that prophetic knowledge through
Muḥammadī saints would remain alive. Therefore, the descendants of Adam
and Muḥammad should not be subordinated to any others, since it was their
presence that restored the pure light of monotheism to India.

Notes
1 Mehta refers to the massacre of a reported 2,000 captive Sikh warriors in a single
day. Mehta, Advanced Study in the History of Modern India, p. 14.
2 Ibid., p. 30. See “Dārā Šokōh,” EIr.
3 Regarding Muḥammad Shāh’s policy, see Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 374.
4 The shoe-​sellers’ riot has been discussed in Irvine, Later Mughals, vol. 2, pp. 257–​
259. There is invaluable information about the war of the shoemakers in unpub-
lished manuscripts according to Rizvi in his work, Shāh Walī-​Allāh and His Times.
Rizvi mentioned some manuscripts that have been recorded in Charles Rieu,
Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum, London: British
Museum, 1879–​1883. The first one was written by Mīrzā Muḥammad Bakhsh
Ᾱshūb and is entitled Tārīkh-​i shahādat-​i Farrukh Siyar wa julūs-​i Muḥammad
Shāh, fls. 944a, 56a–​64b; and the second one was written by Muḥammad Shafīʿ
Wārid and is entitled Mirʾāt-​i wāridāt, fls. 275b, 26a–​32b, See Rizvi, Shāh Walī-​
Allāh and His Times, p. 201.
5 Regarding the religious color of political competitions, see Umar, Islam in
Northern India, p. 177.
6 Ibid., p. 220. See also p. 181.
7 See Toby M. Howarth, The Twelver Shiʿa as a Muslim Minority in India (London
and New York: Routledge, 2005), pp. 10–​12
190  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
8 See “Conversion iii to Imami Shiʿism in India,” EIr.
9 See Irvine, Later Mughals, vol. 2, p. 313. The most famous Iranian was Asad Khān
and his son, Dhū al-​Fiqār Khān Nuṣrat Jung and the most famous Turanian was
Niẓām al-​Mulk Āṣaf Jāh. See Chaurasia, History of Modern India, pp. 5–​6.
10 Umar, Islam in Northern India, 178–​179.
11 Ibid., p. 186.
12 Ibid., p. 223.
13 Friedmann asserts that Sirhindī’s attitude regarding Shiʿa in the Maktūbāt and in
the last part of his life seems more moderate than in Radd-​i Rawāfiz. His opinion
was modified, but he was still known for his hostility toward and polemics against
Shiʿa at the Mughal court, although he accords the status of walī to ʿAlī and other
imams. See Friedmann, Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, pp. 52–​53.
14 Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 169. Compare the discussion with Howarth,
The Twelver Shiʿa, p. 20; J. B. Tavernier, Travels in India (London: Macmillan and
Company, 1889), vol. 2, p. 177.
15 Bahādur Shāh was regarded as a Shiʿi by historians. See Malik, Islam in South
Asia, pp. 114–​115. Hollister asserts that Bahādur Shāh’s order to use the title of
Waṣī (executor of the Prophet’s will) after the name of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, during
the khuṭba of Friday prayers along with his command to have a new form of
prayer recited in the Bādshāhī Masjid in Lahore, 1122/​1711 caused strong wide-
spread opposition from the ʿulamāʾ. See John Norman Hollister, The Shia of India
(London: Luzac and Company Ltd., 1953), p.139. This idea is confirmed by other
scholars such as Owen, The Fall of the Mogul Empire, p. 130.
16 Khāfī Khān, Muntakhab al-​lubāb, vol. 2, p. 870, quoted in Irvine, Later Mughals,
vol. 2, p. 311.
17 Hollister, The Shia of India, p. 138.
18 While Umar speculates that it is highly possible that the Sayyids were not Shiʿa
(see his Islam in Northern India, pp. 172, 174), most scholars believe that they
were, such as Hollister, who has no doubt, however, that they were involved in
politics primarily for what they could personally gain from it, rather than to pro-
mote Shiʿism. Nevertheless, the Shiʿa and Shiʿism did benefit from their influence.
See Hollister, The Shia of India, p. 139. Aziz Ahmad concurs that the role of the
Sayyid brothers in policy shows the authority of the Shiʿi faction of the time. See
Aziz Ahmad, An Intellectual History, p. 19.
19 Richards, The Mughal Empire, p. 273.
20 Umar, Islam in Northern India, pp. 173–​174.
21 Malik, Islam in South Asia, p. 116. Umar asserts that the Shiʿi population was
growing in the eighteenth century due to the emigration of Shiʿas to India. He
refers to Shāh ʿAbdul ʿAzīz, who complained critically that Shiʿism permeated
Sunni families. Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 176. There is also a related debate
in “Conversion iii. To Imami Shiʿism in India,” EIr.
22 Rizvi, History of Sufism, vol. 2, p. 461.
23 Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 215.
24 Rizvi, History of Sufism, vol. 2, p. 384; see also Chaurasia, History of Modern
India, p. 4.
25 Richards, The Mughal Empire, p. 263.
26 Schimmel, The Empire of the Great Mughals, p. 58.
27 Irvine, Later Mughals, vol. 2, p. 263.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  191
28 Ibid, vol. 2, p. 311; Rizvi believes that the nobility’s tendency to pleasures and
carelessness might have been a reaction to Aurangzeb’s ascetic tendency and his
extremist religiosity. See Rizvi, History of Sufism, vol. 2, p. 384.
29 Ikram, Muslim Civilization in India.
30 Chaurasia, History of Modern India, pp. 4, 7.
31 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi Dard, p. 26.
32 Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 43. In Mystical Dimensions of Islam, Schimmel
writes that ʿAndalīb’s vision occurred in 1734. Ibid., Mystical Dimension of Islam,
p. 374.
33 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​Kitāb, p. 85.
34 Aḥmad b. ʿAbd Allāh Ṭabarī relates a ḥadīth that the Prophet called al-​Ḥasan
“the sweet flower” without any mention of al-​Ḥusayn’s name. See Aḥmad b. ʿAbd
Allāh al-​Ṭabarī, Dhakhāʾir al-​ʿuqabā fī manāqib dhawī al-​qurbāʾ, ed. Akram al-​
Būshī (Jeddah: Maktaba al-​Ṣaḥāba, 1415/​1995), p. 125. Some sources mention
the name of both al-​Ḥasan and al-​Ḥusayn in this ḥadīth. Compare with Abū ʿĪsā
Muḥammad b. ʿĪsā al-​Tirmidhī, Jāmiʿ al-​Tirmidhī, trans. Abū Khalīl, ed. Hāfiẓ
Abū Ṭāhir Zubayr ʿAlī Zaʾī (Riyadh: Maktaba Dār al-​Salām, 1427/​2007), vol. 6,
ḥadīth no. 3770, p. 426. Ibn Hajar al-​ʿAsqalānī, al-​ʾIṣāba fī tamyīz al-​ṣaḥāba, ed.
ʿAbd Allāh al-​Tarkī (Cairo: Markaz Hijr liʾl-​Buhūth waʾl-​Dirāsāt al-​Islāmiyya,
1428/​2008), vol. 2, p. 12.
35 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 867.
36 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 875. ʿAndalīb refers to the story in which Maẓhar Qadīr, a great
shaykh, gave the king a healing pomegranate in order to fulfill his desire for a
child. Then, he predicted the birth of Mihr Jahāngīr (the bulbul, or the Prophet
Muḥammad). The shaykh also foretold of the birth of Bī Naẓīr (ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib)
from the remainder of the pomegranate and Māh Munīr (Abū Bakr) from a
healing apple.
37 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 868. The concept of tāj-​i faqr derives from a ḥadīth in which the
Prophet took pride in faqr (“Poverty is my pride”). Faqr in Sufism is “The choice
to forego acquisition of possessions and wealth for the sake of more perfect
dedication to God, and a fundamental attitude based on the realization of one’s
radical neediness and utter dependence on God […] the virtue of spiritual pov-
erty characterized by the refusal to arrogate unto oneself any claim to power or
self-​sufficiency.” See Renard, A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Poverty.” In addition to the
meaning of faqr, tāj refers to a special covering for the head among Sufi orders.
Different colors and forms of Sufi hats are according to their emphasis on specific
aspects of spiritual life. In sum, this term is related to the belief that the shaykh is
king for his disciples, and thus his hat is the same as a crown. “Tadj,” EI2.
38 Al-​Tirmidhī narrates that al-​Bard b. ʿAzīb said: “I saw the Prophet placing al-​
Ḥasan b. ʿAlī upon his shoulder while saying: “O Allāh, I love him, so love him.”
[Abū ʿĪsā said:] This ḥadīth is correct (ṣaḥīḥ). And it is more correct than the
narration of al-​Fuḍayl b. Marzūq no. 3783. See al-​Tirmidhī, Jāmiʿ al-​Tirmidhī,
ḥadīth no. 3783, p. 433. Also see “Ḥasan b. ʿAli b. abi Ṭālib,”EIr.
39 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 895.
40 Abū Nuʿaym Iṣfahānī, Ḥilyat al-​awliyāʾ wa ṭabaqāt al-​aṣfiyāʾ (Beirut: Dār al-​
Kutub ʿIlmiyya, 1988), vol. 2, p. 35.
41 ʿAlī b. ʿUthman al-​Jullābī al-​Hujwīrī, The Kashf al-​ Mahjúb, trans. Reynold
A. Nicholson (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1911), p. 75.
192  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
42 “Al-​Kutb,”EI2. See also Gavin N. Picken, Muhammad in History, Thought and
Culture: An Encyclopedia of the Prophet of God, edited by Coeli Fitzpatrick and
Adam Hani Walker, s.v. “Shadhiliyya,” (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-​CLIO, 2014);
Elmer H. Douglas, The Mystical Teachings of al-​Shadhili (Albany, NY: State
University of New York Press, 1993), p. 246; “Shādhilliyya,”EI2. Paul Nwyia, Ibn
ʿAṭāʾ Allāh et la naissance de la confrérie šāḏilite (Beirut: Dār al-​Mashriq, 1972),
p. 31, quoted in Schimmel, Mystical Dimension of Islam, p. 374.
43 Al-​Tirmidhī, Jāmiʿ al-​Tirmidhī, vol. 6, ḥadīth no. 3777, p. 430; ʿAlī Ibn ʿAsākir,
Tarīkh Dimashq, ed. ʿAlī Shīrī (Beirut: Dār al-​Fikr, 1995), pp. 84, 136. Al-​Ḥasan
is considered one of the most trustworthy narrators of ḥadīth among Sunni and
Shiʿi scholars. See al-​ʿAsqalānī, al-​ʾIṣāba, vol. 2, pp. 60, 66.
44 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 435.
45 Abū al-​ Majd Majdūd b. Ādam Sanāʾī Ghaznawī, Ḥadīqat al-​ ḥaqīqa, ed.
Muḥammad Taqī Mudarris Raḍawī (Tehran: The University of Tehran, 1368 Sh./​
1989), p. 262.
46 ʿAlāʾ al-​Dawla Simnānī, Dīwān, ed. ʿAbd al-​Rafīʿ Ḥaqīqat (Tehran: Shirkat-​i
Muʾallifān wa Nāshirān-​i Iran, 1364 Sh./​1985), p. 27. See other literature in ven-
eration of al-​Ḥasan such as Abu al-​Faḍl Rashīd al-​Dīn Maybudī, Kashf al-​asrār
wa ʿuddat al-​abrār, ed. ʿAlī Aṣghar Ḥikmat (Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1371 Sh./​1992),
vol. 1, p. 626; vol. 2, p. 473. Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad b. Muḥammad al-​Ghazālī,
Kīmiyā-​yi Saʿādat, ed. Ḥusayn Khadīwjam (Tehran: ʿIlmī Farhangī, 1380 Sh./​
2001), vol. 2, p. 168; Maḥmūd b. ʿAlī ʿIzz al-​Dīn Kāshānī, Miṣbāḥ al-​hidāya wa
miftāḥ al-​kifāya, ed. J. Humāʾī (Tehran: Humā, 1323 Sh./​1944), p. 275.
47 Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl al-​Bukhārī, Kitāb al-​ṣaḥīḥ, ed. Ḥāfiẓ Abū Ṭāhir Zubayr
ʿAlī Zaʾī, trans. Naṣīr al-​Dīn al-​Khaṭṭāb (Riyadh: Dār al-​Salām, 2007), vol. 6,
ḥadīth no. 5918, p.123. The claim of inspiration from the Prophet can be traced
in the works of great masters such as Abū Saʿīd Abu al-Khayr, ʿIzz al-​Dīn
Maḥmūd Kāshānī, Abū al-​Qāsim Qushayrī, Abū al-​Ḥasan Hujwīrī, ʿAyn al-​
Quḍāt al-​Hamadanī, Shahāb al-​Dīn Suhrawardī, Ruzbihān Baqlī, Farīd al-​Dīn
ʿAṭṭār, Najm al-​Dīn Rāzī and Jalāl al-​Dīn Rūmī. Jonathan Katz summarizes the
result and importance of visions of the Prophet in different categories. Jonathan
Katz, Dreams, Sufism and Sainthood: The Visionary Career of Muḥammad
Zawawi (Leiden: Brill, 1996), p. 65. See also Amira Mittermaier, Muhammad
in History Thought and Culture: An Encyclopedia of the Prophet of God, edited
by Coeli Fitzpatrick and Adam Hani Walker, s.v. “Dream” (Santa Barbara,
CA: ABC-​CLIO, LLC, 2014); Nile Green, “The Religious and Cultural Roles
of Dreams and Visions in Islam,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, vol. 13
(2003): pp. 287–​313. See the role of the vision of the Prophet in recognizing a Sufi
as uwaysī in Meenakshi Khanna, “The Visionaries of a Ṭarīqa: The Uwaysī Sufis
of Shāhjahānābād,” in Dreams and Visions in Islamic Societies: An Introduction,
ed. Özgen Felek and Alexander D. Knysh (Albany, NY: State University of
New York Press, 2012), pp. 273–​297.
48 Johannes Marinus Simon Baljon, Religion and Thought of Shāh Walī Allāh
Dihlawī: 1703–​1762 (Leiden: Brill, 1986), pp. 16–​20.
49 The vision of the Prophet is considered as one of the defining features of Sufism in
the eighteenth century. See J.O. Voll, “Hadith Scholars and Tariqahs: An ʿUlama
Group in the 18th Century Haramayn and their Impact in the Islamic World,”
Journal of Asian and African Studies, no.15. 3–​4 (1980): p. 270. About Shāh Walī
Allāh’s vision, see Rizvi, History of Sufism, vol. 2, p. 253.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  193
50 In case of Shāh Walī Allāh, this interpretation is affirmed by Baljon, Religion and
Thought of Shāh Walī Allāh Dihlawī, p. 18. He cited that Shāh Walī Allāh himself
says that “From that date my breast was opened for writing books on religious
subjects.” Ibid., p. 17.
51 Abū Bakr narrated that on one occasion, the Prophet brought out al-​Ḥasan and
took him up to the pulpit along with him and said, “This son of mine is a sayyid
(i.e., chief) and I hope that Allāh will help him bring about reconciliation between
two Muslim groups.” See al-​Bukhārī, Kitāb al-​ṣaḥīḥ, vol. 8, ḥadīth no. 3629, p. 497.
See also al-​Tirmidhī, Jāmiʿ al-​Tirmidhī, vol. 6, ḥadīth no. 3773, p. 428.
52 Mullā Muḥammad Bāqir Majlisī, Biḥār al-​anwār, ed. Bāqir Maḥmūdī and ʿAbd
al-​Zahrā ʿAlawī (Beirut: Dār al-​Turāth al-​ʿArabī, n.d.), vol. 43, p. 334. See “Ḥasan
b. ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib,”EI2.
53 Qurʾān 53:9 is about the nearness of Muḥammad to God. The Prophet was at a
distance of “two bow-​lengths or even nearer.”
5‌ 4 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fls. 104a–​104b.
55 According to Mujtabāʾī, wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī and wilāyat-​i Muḥammadī are two
terms from Sirhindī’s teachings. Regarding the theory of the mujaddid, Sirhindī
believes in two sainthoods (wilāya) for the Prophet: Aḥmadī sainthood (wilāyat-​i
Aḥmadī) and Muḥammadī sainthood (wilāyat-​i Muḥammadī). Wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī is
close to Aḥad (‫)احد‬, “the sole one.” Only letter mīm (‫ )م‬of Aḥmad (‫)احمد‬
differentiates it from Aḥad and in fact, that refers to servanthood (ʿubūdiyya).
Regarding the wilāyat-​i Muḥammadī, the two mīms in Muḥammad (‫ )محمد‬refer to
the entification of spirit (taʿayyun-​i rūḥī) and entification of the body (taʿayyun-​i
jasadī). Taʿayyun-​i jasadī came to an end after the Prophet’s death. “After
1,000 years, “letter alif (‫ )الف‬in divinity (ʾuluhiyya) was finally replaced with mīm
(‫ )م‬in the entification of the body, which means that the entification of spirit
attained its greatest perfection. In this way, after one thousand years Muḥammad
was identified with Aḥmad and wilāyat-​i Muḥammadī was transformed into
wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī” (“Sirhindī,”CGIE). Difficulties for the Muslim community are
the result of ascending from wilāyat-​i Muḥammadī to wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī, Since in
wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī divine aspect overcomes the human aspect. This change resulted
in increasing infidelity and weakness of Islam. See Sirhindī, al-​Maktūbat, vol. 3,
letter no. 96, quoted in “Sirhindī,”CGIE.
56 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 85.
57 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 92b.
58 The meanings of the words madhhab, dīn and mashrab have evolved over the
course of history. In mystical terminology, they are multi-​faceted terms meant
to describe the “path” on which a wayfarer walks and passes different stages to
realize the inner transcendental aspect of Islam. Translation of these words into
“school,” “religion,” “creed” and “sect” fails to fully and precisely render their
actual meanings in the context of Sufism. For more accurate descriptions of the
meanings of the words ṭarīqa, madhhab, and dīn, see Edward William Lane, An
English-​Arabic Lexicon www.tyn​dale​arch​ive.com/​tabs/​lane/​ (accessed May 15,
2015). For an analysis of the meaning of madhhab, see Omid Safi, “On the ‘Path of
Love’ Towards the Divine: A Journey with Muslim Mystics,” Journal of Scriptural
Reasoning, no. 2 (2003): 28.
59 See the topic in Voll, “Hadith Scholars and Tariqahs,” p. 270. See Warren
Edward Fusfeld, The Shaping of Sufi Leadership in Delhi: The Naqshbandiyya
Mujaddidiyya, 1750 to 1920 (PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1981), p. 77.
194  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
Reduced emphasis on the chain of spiritual lineage is one of the characteristics of
Neo-​Sufism. See Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam, p. 107. It is quoted in R.S.
O’ Fahey and Bernd Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” p. 70; Carl W. Ernst,
Encyclopedia of Islam and the Muslim World, ed. Richard C. Martin, s.v. “Tariqa”
(New York: Macmillan Reference, 2003).
60 Alexander Knysh, Islamic Mysticism: A Short History (Leiden, Boston, Köln: Brill,
2000), pp. 172–​173, 280, 302; see the meaning of ṭarīqa in Trimingham, The Sufi
Orders in Islam, pp. 2–​4.
61 Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet, p. 72.
62 Fazlur Rahman, Islam, p. 206.
63 O’Fahey and Radtke, “Neo Sufism Reconsidered,” p. 64.
64 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 519.
65 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 4.
66 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 646; the translation of verses is cited from Schimmel. The nine
books may refer to ʿAndalīb’s statement that the Prophet chose nine trusted per-
sons to write down the Qurʾān (ibid., vol. 1, p. 259). In explanation of these verses,
Schimmel says, “But how to perform such a purification? The poets discovered that
there is a way to clean the books blackened by sins, namely, weeping. Most oriental
ink is soluble in water, hence, books could be and have been washed off compara-
tively easily –​and what would be a better way than to weep so profusely that the
tears of repentance wash off the black writing of the book of action?” Schimmel,
“The Book of Life-​Metaphors Connected with the Book in Islamic Literature,”
in The Book in the Islamic World: The Written Word and Communication in the
Middle East, ed. George Nicholas Atiyeh (Albany, NY: State University of
New York Press, 1995), p. 74.
67 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 837–​838.
68 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 788, 841. He believes that his contemporary Muslims are not
truly religious men and he describes them as dandānīs, indicating that they are
“shameless,” and dunbakīs, which can be used to denote “musicians,” but the more
likely reading here is that they are “capricious men.”
69 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 840.
70 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 145.
71 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 335.
72 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 787. The high level of faith of the ṣaḥāba has been supported with
the ḥadīth in which the Prophet says, “The people of my generation are the best,
then those who follow them, and then those who follow the latter.” al-​Bukhārī,
Kitāb al-​ṣaḥīḥ, vol. 8, ḥadīth no. 6428, p. 241.
73 Regarding the concept of sainthood in Ibn al-​ ʿArabī’s teachings and attrib-
uting different sainthoods to the particular prophets, see Michel Chodkiewicz,
Seal of the Saints: Prophethood and Sainthood in the Doctrine of Ibn ʻArabī
(Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, 1993).
74 Abū Bakr’s way is described as the path of ṣiddiqiyya and khulla.
75 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fls. 103a–​103b.
76 Idem, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 641.
77 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 851.
78 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 744.
79 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 849.
80 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 861–​862.
81 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 430.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  195
8 2 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 882–​883.
83 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 806.
84 Ibid, vol. 1, pp. 836, 788.
85 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 838.
86 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 641.
87 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 435.
88 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 756, 840. As already mentioned, the Naqshbandī order’s
connection (nisba) to the Prophet traces back through Abū Bakr, but they were
also connected to the Prophet through the ahl al-​bayt who are al-​Ḥasan al-​
ʿAskarī, al-​Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib.
89 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 804–​806.
90 The nightingale’s path is love and kindness. See Ibid., vol. 2, p. 803–​804. It is the
path of compassion and mercy. See vol. 1, p. 187.
91 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 87.
92 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 474.
93 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 833.
94 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 787.
95 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 307.
96 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 341.
97 Qurʾān 39: 55.
98 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 833.
99 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 4.
100 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 838–​840.
101 Ibid., vol. 1, p.882.
102 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 787.
103 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 840.
104 Qurʾān 7: 181.
105 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 838.
106 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 108.
107 The quṭb, also called the qhawth, is the highest rank of spiritual masters.
Macdonald, in his article entitled “Ghawth,” asserts that sometimes in mystical
literature, the ghawth is a separate rank that is lower than the quṭb. He refers to
Islamic Sunni thought in which some figures are known as al-​ghawth al-​Islam in
their time and place, such as al-​Ḥasan al-​Baṣrī (d. 110/​728). “Ghawth,” EI2.
108 “Al-​Kutb,” EI2. See the comparative discussion concerning quṭb, qhawth,
mujaddid and qayyūm in Waleed Ziad, “From Yarkand to Sindh via Kabul: The
Rise of Naqshbandi-​Mujaddidi Sufi Networks in the 18th–​19th Century Durrani
Empire,” in The Persianate World: Rethinking a Shared Sphere, ed. Abbas
Amanat, Assef Ashraf (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2018), pp. 167–​168. Regarding the role
of al-​Tirmidhī in the development of the concept of sainthood see Bernd Radtke
and John O’Kane, The Concept of Sainthood in Early Islamic Mysticism: Two
Works by Al-​Ḥakīm Al-​Tirmidhī (Richmond, VA: Curzon Press, 1996).
109 Zachary Valentine Wright, Realizing Islam: The Tijaniyya in North Africa and the
Eighteenth-​Century Muslim World (Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North
Carolina Press, 2020), p. 173.
110 This ḥadīthwas recorded by Abū Dāwūdin one of the six authoritative Sunni
collections of the Prophet’s statements. Therein it is narrated that the Prophet
said: “At the beginning of every century Allāh will send to this ummat someone
who will renew its religion.” Imam Hāfiẓ Abū Dāwūd Sulaymān b. Ashʿath,
196  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
Sunan, ed. Hāfiẓ Abū Ṭāhir Zubayr ʿAlī Zaʾī, trans. Hudā Khaṭṭāb (Riyadh: Dār
al-​Salām, 1428/​2008), vol. 4, ḥadīth no. 4291, p. 512. This ḥadīth is also recorded in
Shiʿi sources, such Sayyid b. Ṭāwūs, Kitāb al-​malāḥim waʾl-​Fitan, ḥadīth no. 4278.
111 Qurʾān 3:150.
112 Ibid., 9:40.
113 Ibid., 40:51.
114 Ibid., 3:126.
115 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 371.
116 This interpretation about how religious leaders identified themselves as pivots
of Islam by different names was adopted from and inspired by Sajida S. Alvi’s
comparison among Qāzī Thanā Allāh Panīpatī, Sirhindī and Shāh Walī Allāh in
“Qazi Sana Allāh Panipati an Eighteenth-​Century Indian Sufi-​Alim: A Study
of His Writings in their Sociopolitical Context,” in Islamic Studies Presented
to Charles J. Adams, ed. Wael B. Hallaq and Donald P. Little (Leiden: Brill,
1991), p. 16. Regarding the influence of such naming see Muḥammad Waqas
Sajjad, “Sobering Sufism in South Asia: The Legacy of Aḥmad Sirhindi (1564–​
1624) and Shah Waliullah (1703–​1762),” p. 13, https://​cent​refo​rbar​elwi​stud​ies.
files.wordpr​ess.com/​2016/​10/​sobering_​sufi​sm_​i​n_​so​uth_​asia​_​sha​h_​wa​liu.pdf
(accessed November 10, 2015).
117 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 796.
118 Madrāsī, the epilogue of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 905–​906.
119 Mīr Dard, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 648.
120 Ibid., p. 96.
121 Qādir Aḥmad, Khwāja Mīr Dard aur unkā Zikr-​u-​Fikr, pp. 86–​87; also quoted in
Jamīl al-​Raḥmān, “Aḥwāl wa āthār,” pp. 182–​183.
122 Jalāl al-​Dīn Rūmī, The Mathnawī of Jalalu’ddīn Rūmī, ed. and trans. Reynold
Alleyne Nicholson (London: Cambridge University Press, 1926), daftar 1, verse
no. 737–​738, vol. 2, p. 42.
123 Murtażawī knowledge refers to the knowledge of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib.
124 The status of caliph as a manifestation of the divine mercy has been redefined
in different contexts. To know the caliph’s role from a mystical perspective par-
ticularly during the Ottoman Empire, see Hüseyin Yilmaz, Caliphate Redefined:
The Mystical Turn in Ottoman Political Thought (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2018).
125 Mīr Dard, Chahār risāla, p. 98.
126 Idem, ʿIlm al-​kitāb, p. 95.
127 Ṭughrā is an Arabic calligraphic form of words. Atiq R. Siddiqui, The Story of
Islamic Calligraphy (Delhi: Sarita Book House, 1990), p. 19.
128 Firāq, Maykhāna-​yi dard, pp. 92–​93.
129 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 605.
130 On the precise meaning of khāliṣ, see Lane, An English-​Arabic Lexicon.
131 Qurʾān 39:3.
132 Khāliṣ is one epithet that was attributed to al-​Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī in Sunni sources.
Muḥammad Ibn Ṭalḥa Al-​Shāfiʿī, Maṭālib al-​suʾūl fī manāqib āl al-​rasūl (Najaf: n.p.,
1318/​1901), vol. 2, p. 18; ʿAlī Ibn Ṣabbāgh, al-​Fuṣūl al-​muhimma fī maʿrifat al-​aʾimma,
ed. Sāmī ʿAzīzī (Qum: Dār al-​Ḥadīth, 1379/​1959), p. 273; Muʾmin al-​Shiblanjī, Nūr
al-​abṣār fī manāqib āl-​i bayt-​i nabī waʾl-​mukhtār, ed. ʿAbd al-​ʿAzīz Salmān (Cairo:
al-​Maktaba al-​Tawfiqiyya, n.d.), p. 183; Ḥasan Ibn Shuʿba, Tuḥuf al-​ʿuqūl ʿan āl al-​
rasūl, ed. Ḥusayn al-​Aʿlamī (Beirut: al-​Aʿlamī al-​Maṭbūʿāt, 1996), p. 359.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  197
133 Muḥammad ʿAlī b. ʿAlī al-​Tahānwī, Kashshāf al-​iṣṭilāḥāt al-​funūn
(Beirut: Maktaba Lubnān Nāshirūn, 1991), vol. 1, p. 122. See Renard, A to Z
of Sufism, s.v. “Sincerity.” Lane states that al-​Ḥārith al-​Muḥāsabī further divides
sincerity into degrees of docility and promptness as a response to insincerity. For
the meanings of mukhliṣ and mukhlaṣ see kha-​la-​ṣa in Lane, An English-​Arabic
Lexicon. Mīr Sayyid Sharīf Jurjānī acknowledges that mukhliṣ does not believe in
any other than God and sincerely obeys divine commands, his quality is different
from mukhlaṣ who is purified by God from any sins. See ʿAlī b. Muḥammad al-​
Jurjānī, al-​Taʿrīfāt (Cairo: Maṭbaʿat al-​Khayriyya, 1306/​1889), p. 90. ʿIzz al-​Dīn
Kāshānī, in Miṣbāḥ al-​hidāya wa miftāḥ al-​kifāya, notes that the Sufis are in three
groups: mukhliṣān, mukhlaṣān and mukhliṣān-​i mukhlaṣ. The people in the first
group are mubtadī (“novice”) on the path, remembering God all the time and
seeking to please Him. The people in the second group are muṭawassit (one who
is in the middle of the path) on the path and are famous for their righteousness,
and the people in the third group are muntahī (one who is at the final level) on
the path and they have both characteristics. See ʿIzz al-​Dīn Kāshānī, Miṣbāḥ al-​
hidāya, vol. 1, p. 271.
134 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 705.
135 Qurʾān 12:24.
136 Ibid., 19:51.
137 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 863; see vol. 2, p. 261.
138 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 321, 839.
139 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 861, 863.
140 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 864.
141 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 789, 880; vol. 1, p. 794.
142 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 863.
143 William C. Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge (Albany, NY: State University
of New York Press), 378. This state refers to a Prophetic saying that the Prophet
said “I stood at the gate of the Garden. Most of the people who entered it were
from among the poor (miskin), while the people of riches were imprisoned.”
144 Ibid., p. 376.
145 Ibid., p. 377. Like those who inherit from Moses and are called Mūsawī, or those
who inherit from Jesus and are ʿĪsawī, and those who inherit from Ibrahim, who
are Ibrāhīmī. Ibid.
146 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 839.
147 Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale, p. 242. Ziad says: “Most importantly, though
other exalted spiritual ranks such as the quṭbs and the qayyūm are open to all
wayfarers, the rank of the Pure Muḥammadī is open only to descendants of the
Prophet through his daughter Fāṭimah and her husband ʿAlī.”
148 See “Al-​Kutb,”EI2. Mahdī in Arabic means “divinely guided one.” He is “a messi-
anic deliverer who will fill the Earth with justice and equity, restore true religion,
and usher in a short golden age lasting seven, eight, or nine years before the end
of the world. The Qurʾān does not mention him.” Many Sunnis do believe in
the Mahdī, but this belief is an essential part of Shiʿi doctrine. See the editors
of Encyclopædia Britannica, Encyclopædia Britannica, s.v. “Mahdi” (Chicago,
IL: Encyclopædia Britannica, 2015), www.bri​tann​ica.com/​EBchec​ked/​topic/​358​
096/​(accessed May 15, 2016). See “Al-​Mahdi,” EI2.
149 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 642–​643.
150 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 864.
198  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
151 Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale, p. 242; Schimmel thinks that the qayyūmiya
doctrine influenced the belief in the mystical graces bestowed upon ʿAndalīb.
Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 35.
152 This ḥadīth is weak due to discontinuity in the chain of narrators. Abū Isḥāq is
reported to have said: “ʿAlī –​may Allāh be pleased with him –​said, while looking
at his son al-​Ḥasan: ‘This son of mine is a chief, as the Prophet called him. From
his loins will come a man who will have the same name as your Prophet. He will
resemble him in character but not in physical appearance.’ Then he mentioned
the story: ‘He will fill the earth with justice.’ ” See Abū Dāwūd, vol. 4, ḥadīth
no. 4290, p. 511; this is also narrated in Naʿīm b. Ḥimād al-​Marwzī, Kitāb al-​
fitan, ed. Suhayl Zarkār (Beirut: Dār al-​Fikr li-​Ṭibāʿat wa liʾl-​Nashr waʾl-​Tuzīʿ,
1413/​1993), p. 231.
153 He “would impose the laws of Islam with the sword and Jesus would be one of
his wizīrs.” Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale, p. 242.
154 Iḥsān, Rawḍat al-​qayyūmiyya, part 4, fl. 312.
155 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 864.
156 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 901. Khush khulqān refers to Khushbū and Khushgū.
157 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 868.
158 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 354, 638.
159 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 882.
160 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 806.
161 Qurʾān 33:21. See discussions regarding the Prophet as an ethical pattern, such
as “The Ethical and Spiritual Character of Muhammad,” in Sayyid Hossein
Nasr, Encyclopæadia Britannica, online ed., s.v. “Muḥammad, Prophet of Islam”
(Chicago, IL: Encyclopædia Britannica, n.d.), www.bri​tann​ica.com/​EBchec​
ked/​topic/​396​226/​Muḥam​mad/​251​801/​The-​ethi​cal-​and-​spirit​ual-​charac​ter-​of-​
Muḥam​mad (accessed May 15, 2015).
162 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol.1. p. 892.
163 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 803.
164 ʿAndalīb emphasizes the Qurʾān, ḥadīth, sunna and following the way of the
Prophet’s companions several times: vol. 1, pp. 519, 811, 883, 884, 892; vol. 2,
pp. 42, 660, 789, 807.
165 Regarding the importance of this subject, see “Hadith,”EI2. For the topic of
ḥadīth studies in the Muḥammadiyya, see Voll, “Hadith Scholars and Tariqahs,”
p. 270.
166 Schimmel, And Muhammad Is His Messenger, p. 225. “The suffering commu-
nity needed a strong, radiant model for their survival. One can also sense in this
movement a nostalgia, a longing for the Golden age. Did not the prophet create
the ‘best of all nations’, one that was called to be the bearer of the final Divine
law? And yet this nation, despite its former glory and power, had now nothing
to counteract the incursion of the sheikhs, Hindus, and Europeans in their area
except, at best, their pride in their past. Such nostalgia has been an important
ingredient of the veneration of the prophet up to the present, for the ideal of
Muslims has remained the time when Muhammad led them from victory to vic-
tory. The only way open to the beleaguered Muslims in India was, they left, to go
back to him in hope that in this way the community might prosper again.” Ibid.
167 See the discussion on imitation of the Prophet in Daniel W. Brown, Rethinking
Tradition in Modern Islamic Thought (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1999), p. 138.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  199
1 68 Ibid., introduction to Rethinking Tradition in Modern Islamic Thought, p. 2.
169 Jamal Malik, “Constructions of the Past In and About India: From Jahiliyya
to the Cradle of Civilization,” in Pre-​Colonial Perceptions of India Globalized
Antiquity: Uses and Perceptions of the Past in South Asia, Mesoamerica,
and Europe, ed. Ute Schüren, Daniel Marc Segesser, and Thomas Späth
(Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 2015), p. 51.
170 Sajida S. Alvi, “Qazi Sanaʾ-​Allah Panipati,” pp. 22–​23.
171 Schimmel, introduction to The Triumphal Sun, p. 8. Carl Ernst states, “Muhammad
had struck the perfect balance between the different capacities that he held. He
is set as the standard against which every field of Muslim culture is measured.
Political theorists regard him as the ideal ruler. Legal scholars view him as the
source of authentic law. Philosophers see him as a Platonic philosopher-​king,
whose wisdom derives from his contact with the Active Intellect. Sufis, in con-
trast, see the Prophet as the beloved of God, the merciful one who will intercede
with God for all humanity, the inner mystical guide who is available to all.” See
Carl W. Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism (Boston and London: Shambhala,
1997), pp. 55–​56.
172 John Renard, All the King’s Falcons: Rumi on Prophets and Revelation (Albany,
NY: State University of New York Press, 1994), pp. 2–​16.
173 The commentaries that were attributed to him are cited by al-​Sulamī (d. 412/​
1021), who compiled Ḥaqāyiq al-​tafsīr. See Abū ʿAbd al-​Raḥmān al-​Sulamī,
Majmūʿa āthār-​i Abū ʿAbd al-​Raḥmān al-​Sulamī: Bakhsh-​hāʾī az ḥaqāyiq al-​
tafsīr wa rasāʾil-​i dīgar, ed. Nasrollah Pourjavady (Tehran: Markaz Nashr
Danishgāhī, 1369–​1372 Sh./​1990–​1993), vol.1, pp. 44–​45. Ḥaqāyiq al-​tafsīr
has been translated into English. See Jaʿfar Al-​Sadiq, Spiritual Gems: The
Mystical Qurʾan Commentary Ascribed to Imam Jaʿfar Al-​Sadiq as Contained
in Sulami’s Haqaʾiq Al-​Tafsir, trans. Farhana Mayer (Louisville, KY: Fons
Vitae, 2011).
174 Muqātil b. Sulaymān, Tafsīr (Beirut: Muʾassassa al-​Taʾrīkh al-​ʿArabī, 2002),
vol. 3, p. 199. This esoteric verse of the Qurʾān (24: 35) is known as āyat al-​
nūr: “Allāh is the Light of the heavens and the earth. The parable of His Light is
like a niche in which there is a lamp; the lamp is in a glass, the glass is as if it had
been a glittering star, kindled from a blessed olive tree, (which is) neither eastern
not western, whose oil will almost glow though fire has never touched it. Light
upon light, Allāh guides anyone He wishes to His light. And Allāh sets forth the
parables for humanity. And Allāh is aware of everything.”
175 Sahl b. ʿAbd Allāh al-​Tustarī, Tafsīr al-​Tustarī (Great Commentaries on the
Holy Qurʾān), trans. Annabel Keeler and Ali Keeler (Louisville, KY: Fons Vitae,
2011), p. 77. Al-​Tustarī’s explanation is: “The progeny (dhurriyya) comprise there
[parts], a first, second and third: the first is Muḥammad for when God, Exalted
is He, wanted to create Muḥammad, He made appear (aẓhara) a light from His
light. And when it reached the veil of divine majesty (ʿaẓama) it prostrated before
God, and from that prostration God created an immense crystal-​like column of
light, that was inwardly and outwardly translucent, and within it was the essence
of Muḥammad.” Ibid.
176 Ibid., p, 139.
177 Qurʾān 33:45–​46.
178 Ḥusayn b. Manṣūr Ḥallāj, “Tawāsīn,” in Majmūʿa āthār-​i Ḥallāj, ed. Qāsim Mīr-​
Ākhurī (Tehran: Yadāwarān, 1379 Sh. /​2000), pp. 43–​44.
200  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
179 Shahāb al-​Dīn Sayyid Maḥmūd al-​Ālūsī, Rūḥ al-​maʿānī fī tafsīr al-​Qurʾān al-​
ʿaẓīm wa’l-​sabʿ wa’l-​mathānī, ed. Maḥmūd Shukrī al-​Ālūsī (Beirut: Dār Iḥyāʾ al-​
Turāth al-​ʿArabiyya, 1854), vol. 8, p. 71.
180 Rūzbihān Baqlī, Sharḥ-​i shaṭḥiyyāt, ed. Henry Corbin and Mūhammad Muʿīn
(Tehran: Ṭahurī, 1389 Sh./​2010), pp. 342–​343.
181 Najm al-​Dīn Rāzī, Mirṣād al-​ʿibād, ed. Muḥammad Amīn Riyāḥī (Tehran: ʿIlmī
Farhangī, 1387 Sh./​2008), pp. 131, 134. From Rāzī’s perspective, the Prophet has
no shadow for two reasons: “first because the Prophet was, from one point of view,
the sun –​“a summoner to God, with His permission, and a light-​giving lamp’ –​
and the sun has no shadow; and second because he was, from a different point
of view, the monarch of religion, and the monarch is the shadow of God –​‘the
monarch is God’s shadow upon earth’ ̶ and a shadow has no shadow.” Najm al-​
Dīn Rāzī, The Path of God’s Bondsmen from Origin to Return (Merṣād al-​ʿebād
men al-​mabdāʿ elāʾl-​maʿād), trans. Hamid Algar (New York: Caravan Books.
1982), p. 156. See this subject in ʿAyn al-​Quḍāt Hamadānī, Tamhīdāt, ed. ʿAfīf
ʿUsayrān (Tehran: Manūchihrī, 1386 Sh./​2006), p. 202. The light of Muḥammad
became the subject of much research, see Gerhard Bowering, Mystical Vision
of Existence in Classical Islam: The Qurʾanic Hermeneutics of the Ṣūfī Sahl At-​
Tustarī (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter; 1979); Ibid., “The Light Verse: Text and Ṣūfī
Interpretation,” Oriens, no. 36 (2001): pp. 113–​144; Uri Rubin, “Pre-​existence and
Light: Aspects of the Concept of Nūr Muḥammad,” Israel Oriental Studies, no. 5
(1975): pp. 62–​119. This has been discussed in Schimmel, The Triumphal Sun, p. 231;
Carl W. Ernst, Following Muhammad: Rethinking Islam in the Contemporary World
(Chapel Hill, NC and London: University of North Carolina Press, 2003), p. 84.
182 Deladriere, La Profession de Foi d’Ibn‚ Arabi, pp. 122, 124–​125, quoted in Schimmel,
And Muhammad is His Messenger, p. 127. See Carl W. Ernst, “Muhammad as the
Pole of Existence,” in The Cambridge Companion to Muḥammad, ed. Jonathan
E. Brockopp (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), p. 127.
183 Shihāb al-​Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī’s Illuminationism, or Illuminationist
Philosophy, which is called ḥikmat al-​ishrāq, was influenced by Peripatetic phil-
osophy, mysticism and Zoroastrian doctrines. Marcotte explains, “In the Niche
of Lights (1998), Muhammad al-​Ghazali (d. 1111) discussed mystical epistem-
ology using Qurʾanic light terminology, whereas Suhrawardi, in his Philosophy
of Illumination, developed a truly original light ontology. While light always
remains in itself identical, its proximity or distance from the Light of Lights
determines the ontic light reality of all beings. Light operates through the activ-
ities of the dominion of the higher ‘triumphal’ or ‘victorious’ lights, as well as
the desire of the lower lights for the higher ones, operating at all levels and hier-
archies of reality (PI, 97.7–​98.11). Reality proceeds from the Light of Lights
and unfolds via the First Light and all the subsequent lights whose exponential
interactions bring about the existence of all entities. As each new light interacts
with other existing lights, more light and dark substances are generated. Light
produces both immaterial and substantial lights, such as immaterial intellects
(angels), human and animal souls. Light produces dusky substances, such as
bodies. Light can generate both luminous accidents, such as those in immaterial
lights, physical lights or rays, and dark accidents, whether it is in immaterial lights
or in bodies (PI, 77.1–​78.9).” Roxanne Marcotte, The Stanford Encyclopedia of
Philosophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta, s.v. “Suhrawardi,” http://​plato.stanf​ord.edu/​
entr​ies/​suh​rawa​rdi/​ (accessed February 11, 2015).
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  201
184 Shihāb al-​Dīn Yaḥyā Suhrawardī, Majmūʿa muṣannafāt-​i shaykh-​i ishrāq, ed.
Henry Korbin (Tehran: Anjuman-​i Falsafa-​yi Iran, 1355 Sh./​1976), vol. 2, p. 150.
185 Ibid., vol. 3, p. 183. Pūr Nāmdāriyān, Ramz wa dāstān-​hā-​yi ramzī, p. 201.
Sīmurgh is the king of the birds in Manṭiq al-​ṭayr by Farīd al-​Dīn ʿAṭṭār.
186 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 104.
187 Regarding the role of the sun in Akbar’s thought, see M. Athar ʿAli, Mughal
India, p. 201. Reverence toward the sun as the source of light at the center of
his worldview can be studied in different ways. First, it was under the influ-
ence of worshipping the sun in the Hindu way of praying. For Akbar, it was a
sign of his respect toward the Hindus at Mughal court and the royal army. See
Ellison Banks Findly, Nur Jahan: Empress of Mughal India (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1993), p. 40. Second, this idea connected Akbar’s new reli-
gion to Zoroastrian thought. See David O. Morgan, Anthony Reid (ed.), The
New Cambridge History of Islam: vol. 3, The Eastern Islamic World Eleventh
to Eighteenth Century (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), p. 283.
Third, according to Audrey Truschke, Akbar’s recitation of the names of the
sun shows his interest in illuminationist philosophy and the mystical points
of view of Shaṭṭārī and Nuqtawī Sufis. The veneration of the sun was not a
permanent element in Akbar’s thought, but it was attractive for his successor,
Jahāngīr. Later, it was interpreted as a practice “which strove to control rather
than exalt the sun.” See Audrey Truschke, Culture of Encounters: Sanskrit at
the Mughal Court (New York: Columbia University Press, 2016), p. 42. Azfar
Moin studies the value of the sun for the Mughal emperors and in his survey
about sacred kingship and sainthood, he traces the idea back to Humāyūn’s age.
He explains that how Akbar respects the sun and regards 1001 names for it.
See A. Azfar Moin, The Millennial Sovereign: Sacred Kingship and Sainthood in
Islam (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012), p. 221.
188 Schimmel, The Empire of the Great Mughals, pp. 32–​35.
189 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 19; see the quality of companionship
between Mihr Jahāngīr and Māh Munīr (sun and moon) in vol. 2, pp. 413–​414.
190 Muḥammad b. Munawwar, Asrār al-​tawḥīd fī maqāmāt al-​Shaykh Abī Saʿīd, ed.
Dhabīḥ Allāh Ṣafā (Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1332 Sh./​1953), p. 5.
191 Schimmel quotes Rūmī’s interpretation of the notion of the Tree of Life from
Manāqib al-​ʿārifīn, written by Shams al-​Dīn Aḥmad Aflākī (d. 761/​1359), p. 379,
That endless ocean is the Greatness of God Most High, and that huge tree
is the blessed existence of Muhammad and the branches of this tree are the
ranks of the prophets and stations of saints, and those big birds are their
souls, and the different tunes they sing are the mysteries and secrets of their
tongues.
After this quotation, Schimmel refers to the similar ideas among medieval
Muslims in Indo-​Muslim literature in the sixteenth century. She cites a song
about the “Muhammadan light” which describes the Prophet as the root of cre-
ation. This song is quoted from Charles S.J. White, “Sufism in Medieval Hindi
Literature,” History of Religions 5, no. 1 (1965), p. 128.
Muhammad, having become the root of the (cosmic tree),
The whole universe is his branch.
Schimmel, Muhammad is His messenger, p. 131
202  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
192 Ibn al-​ʿArabī dedicated a very brief treatise, entitled Shajarat al-​Kawn, to this
subject. The attribution of this work to him is questioned in a valuable paper that
studies the origin of this work. See Younes Alaoui Mdaghri, “Critical Study of
the Erroneous Attribution of the Book Shajarat al-​Kawn to Ibn al-​ʿArabī instead
of to Ibn Ghānim al-​Maqdisī,” The Journal of Rotterdam Islamic and Social
Sciences, vol. 1, no. 1 (2010), accessed September 1, 2017, www.jriss.nl/​index.
php/​JRISS/​arti​cle/​view/​6. On this subject, see also Najm al-​Dīn Razī, Merṣād
al-​ʿebād, pp. 60, 91–​92.
193 Cited in Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism, p. 52. In this ḥadīth, it is also
narrated that the Prophet said, “I was the Prophet when Adam was between the
clay and the water.”
194 Rubin, “Pre-​existence and Light,” pp. 80–​81; M.A. Amīr-​Moezzī, Le guide divin
dans le shiʿisme original: Aux sources de l’ésotérisme en islam (Paris: Verdier,
1992), p. 105 quoted in Claude Addas, “The Figure of the Prophet in the Work
of ʿAbdal Karīm Jīlī,” Part 2, The Muhyiddin Ibn ʿArabi Society, vol. 46 (2009),
www.ibna​rabi​soci​ety.org/​artic​les/​qab-​qaws​ayn-​2.html (accessed December
12, 2015).
195 Qurʾān 33:40.
196 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 665. Böwering states that “Sahl al-​Tustarī
(d. 896), the early classical Sufi and scholar, differentiates between three specks
of the three seeds: Muḥammad, Ādam, and the offspring of Ādam. Muḥammad,
the Muḥammad of pre-​existence, was created of divine light. When he had
stood as a column of light before God for a million years in primordial ador-
ation, ‘God created Ādam from the light of Muḥammad,’ or according to
another passage of tafsīr, he created Ādam from the clay of divine might (tīn
al-​ʿal-​m) from the light of Muḥammad (min nūr Muḥammad). Not only Ādam
is formed from Muḥammad’s light: the light of the prophets is from his light.”
See Gerhard Böwering, The Mystical Vision of Existence in Classical Islam: the
Qurʾānic Hermeneutics of the Ṣūfī Sahl at-​Tustarī (Berlin and New York: Walter
de Gruyter, 1979), p. 153.
197 Valerie J. Hoffmann, “Annihilation in the Messenger of God,” in Sufism: Critical
Concepts in Islamic Studies, ed. Lloyd Ridgeon (London and New York: Routledge,
2008), p. 35.
198 Toshihiko Izutsu states: “The ‘Reality of Muḥammad (ḥaqīqah Muḥammad or
al-​ḥaqīqah al-​muḥammadīyah), is one of the most important concepts in the phil-
osophy of Ibn ʿArabī. […] Ontologically, Muḥammad as a cosmic being who
existed from eternity corresponds to, or represents, the level of the permanent
archetypes; that is, the level of Being ‘which is neither existent nor non-​existent’,
the intermediary stage (barzakh) between the absolute Absolute and the world
which is the outer self-​manifestation of the Absolute. This intermediary stage
is divine in so far as it is identified with the Divine Consciousness, but it is, at
the same time, essentially creaturely or human in that it has significance only
as it is related to the created world. The intermediary stage in this latter aspect,
i.e., considered in its human aspect, is the Reality of Muḥammad. And it is also
the Perfect Man on the cosmic level [...] Muḥammad, as the Perfect Man on the
cosmic level, is the first of all self-​determinations (taʿayyunāt) of the Absolute.
Theologically, it is the first ‘creature’ of God.” Toshihiko Izutsu, Sufism and
Taoism: A Comparative Study of Key Philosophical Concepts (Berkeley, Los
Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1984), pp. 236–​237.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  203
199 Abdul Ela Afifi, The Mystical Philosophy of Muḥyid Dīn-​Ibnul ‘Arabī
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1939), p. 71. According to Afifi, the
Muhammed Logos is called various names, of which he provides the following
terms: “(1) The Reality of Mohammed (al Haqīqatu’l Muḥammadiyyah). (2) The
Reality of Realities (Haqīqatu’l Ḥaqā’iq). (3) The Spirit of Mohammed (Rūḥ
Muhammad). (4) The First Intellect (al ‘Aqlu’l Awwal =​Plotinus’ Noūs). (5) The
Throne (al ‘Arsh). (6) The Most Mighty Spirit (al Rūḥu’l A‘ẓam). (7) The Most
Exalted Pen (al Qalamu’l A‘lā). (8) The Vicegerent (al Khalifah). (9) The Perfect
Man (al Insānu’l Kāmil). (10) The Origin of the Universe (Aṣlu’l ‘Ālam). (11)
The Real Adam (Ādam al Haqiqi).(12) The Intermediary (al Barzakh). (13) The
Sphere of Life (Falaku’l Hayāh). (14) The Real who is the instrument of cre-
ation (al Haqqu’l makhlūqu bihi). (15) The Hayūlā or Prime Matter (al Hayūlā).
(16) The Spirit (al Rūḥ). (17) The Pole (al Quṭb). (18) The Servant of the All-​
embracing One (Abdu’l Jāmi‘).” Ibid., p. 66.
200 Ibid. p. 70.
201 Ibid., p. 72. Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Shajarat al-​Kawn has been translated into English
by Arthur Jeffery. In the introduction to Jeffery’s translation, it is attempted to
trace the roots of the belief of seed under the influence of the concept of Logos
to pre-​Christian, non-​Christian and Christian attitudes. See Arthur Jeffery, “Ibn
Al-​‘Arabī’s Shajarat al-​Kawn,” Studia Islamica, no. 10 (1959): pp. 43–​77. In fact,
the concept shows the status of “Muhammad in his relationship to Allah, to
mankind and to the cosmos.” Ibid., p. 52.
202 Addas, in “The Figure of the Prophet in the Work of ʿAbdal Karīm Jīlī,” cites
Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s notion from a book entitled ʿAnqā ʾ al-​maghrib fī khatm al-​
awliyāʾ (Cairo: n.p., 1954), pp. 32–​40. Elmore says this literary work is a “doc-
trinal effort from Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s early period of writing in the maghrib, around
the turn of the 7th/​13th century.” See Gerald Elmore, “Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Book of
the Fabulous Gryphon (ʿAnqāʾ Mughrib),” The Muhyiddin Ibn Arabi Society,
vol. 25 (1999): pp. 61–​87.
203 Renard, A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Love.” Graham states that the famous sources of
ḥadīths have not cited the ḥadīth of the hidden treasure in spite of interpreting it
mystically as a ḥadīth in the numerous Sufi commentaries. William A. Graham,
Divine Word and Prophetic Word in Early Islam a Reconsideration of the Sources,
with Special Reference to the Divine Saying or Ḥadîth Qudsî (Hague: Mouton,
1977), p. 72.
204 Maurice Gloton, “The Quranic Inspiration of Ibn ‘Arabī’s Vocabulary of
Love: Etymological Links and Doctrinal development,” trans. Cecilia Twinch,”
Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn ‘Arabī Society, no. 27 (2000): p. 42. To Study of
different the station of love with regard to the twofold of ḥubb/​ḥabb from Ibn
al-​ʿArabian perspective see Pablo Benito, “The Servant of the Loving One: On
the Adoption of the Character Traits of al-​Wadūd,” Journal of the Muhyiddin Ibn
‘Arabī Society, no. 32 (2002): p. 6. The interpretation of these two words makes
the relationships between the various literary meanings in a semantic analysis
of the same root (which is ḥ-​b-​b). As Hany Talaat Ahmed Ibrahim considers
the root signifies: “grain, seed, love, to love, loved one, to prefer, and a friend,”
that lead to consider that this twofold are “implying the growth of love between
God and His creation.” Hany Talaat Ahmed Ibrahim, Ibn ‘Arabi’s metaphysics
of love: a textual study of ­chapter 178 of al-​Futuhat al-​Makkiya (PhD diss.,
University of Lethbridge, 2014), p. 36.
204  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
2 05 Gloton, “The Quranic Inspiration of Ibn ‘Arabī’s Vocabulary of Love,” p. 42.
206 In Sufi parlance, God makes Himself known through the Prophet’s spirituality
because of love. See Hoffmann, “Annihilation in the Messenger of God,” p. 42.
207 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 141.
208 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 874–​875.
209 Qāf is the name of a mountain that surrounds the world based on legends.
210 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 18.
211 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 875.
212 The Prophet is an elevated figure according to the Qurʾānic verse, “In truth
you are of a sublime character” (68: 4). According to a ḥadīth narrated on the
authority of ʿĀʾisha: “His character, it was the Qurʾān.” Based on the interpret-
ation of Chittick and Murata, this ḥadīth confirms the notion that the Prophet
incarnates the truth of sharīʿa, “To be fully human is to actualize the divine
form. In order to achieve this, Sufis follow the sunna of the Prophet and seek to
embody the Qurʾān. They want the Qurʾān to be their character, just as it was the
Prophet’s character.” See William Chittick and Sachiko Murata, The Vision of
Islam (Saint Paul, MN: Paragon House, 1994), p. 304.
213 Hoffmann, “Annihilation in the Messenger of God,” pp. 36.
214 Concerning the perfect man as barzakh, see Chittick, The Sufi Path of
Knowledge, p. 16.
215 See Kiyūmarth Chirāghī, “Barrisī-​yi mafhūm-​i insān-​i kāmil az dīdgāh-​i ʿAzīz
b. Muḥammad Nasafī,” in Pazhūhish nama-​yi Adyān, vol. 2, no. 3 (2008): p. 75.
Al-​Nasafī states that the perfect man is aware of the hidden laws of nature and he
is also able to transcend time and space. See the discussion in ibid., pp. 73–​100.
216 Fitzroy Morrissey, Sufism and the Scriptures: Metaphysics and Sacred History in
the Thought of ‘Abd al-​Karīm al-​Jīlī (London: I.B. Tauris, 2020), p. 79.
217 Ibid., p. 80. The perfect man is considered all-​comprehensive engendered being
(al-​kawn al-​jāmiʿ).
218 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 59.
219 See the concept in several pages. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 79, 369, 413.
220 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 415.
221 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 879.
222 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 130.
223 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 244.
224 Izutsu scrutinizes the concept of al-​aʿyān al-​thābita (“Permanent archetypes”) in
the eleventh chapter of Sufism and Taoism. Pertaining to the school of Ibn al-​
ʿArabī, he explains al-​Kāshānī’s attitude about Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s thoughts on the
relationship of the marbūb with its rabb. “When the Absolute manifests itself
in each individual being, it is able to do so only through one particular Name
because of the natural limitation set by the ‘preparedness’ of that particular
being. But this is exactly what is willed by the Absolute and what is desired by the
recipient, there being no discordance between the two parties. And this is what
is meant by everything being approved by its own Lord. […] And in fact, there
is an ontological aspect to the personal relation between each individual being
and his Lord. […] Each single Name has been regarded as representing a par-
ticular aspect of the Absolute. But a Divine Name, in order to actualize, neces-
sarily requires a particular being. A particular being in that capacity is a locus of
the self-​manifestation of that Name. And in this context, each individual being,
as a locus in which a particular Name is manifested maintains with the Absolute
the same individual relationship as in the ‘prayer’ context. […] Unlike ordinary
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  205
men, the perfect Man actualizes and manifests not one single particular Name
but all the Names in their synthesis. An ordinary man is approved by his par-
ticular Lord. The latter is his Lord; not the Lord of other people. So that no
ordinary man is in direct relation with the absolute Lord (al-​rabb al-​muṭlaq). The
Perfect Man, on the contrary, actualizes in himself all the attributes and actions
of One who approves of him not as his Lord alone but as the absolute Lord.”
Izutsu, Sufism and Taoism, pp. 111–​112. See also the discussion in Henry Corbin
and Ralph Manheim, Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn Arabi (Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969).
225 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 656; vol. 1, p. 242. ʿAndalīb considers nine
main divine attributes. Based on these nine divine attributes, the Prophet chose
nine as a secret number. He had nine wives. The revelation of the Qurʾān was
under the influence of the ninth divine attribute. He selected nine persons to
write the Qurʾān and he says that God has ninety-​nine names. Also, God gave
Moses nine miracles and there are nine praiseworthy attributes which Muslims
should attain. See ibid., vol. 1, p. 259. Regarding the connection of the Prophets
with mystical knowledge, in Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Fuṣūṣ al-​ḥikam, each chapter (faṣ) is
dedicated to one of the prophets and a corresponding divine attribute. Chittick
states, “The prophets and great friends of God, as human beings, manifest the
names of God in relative fullness. Then, in their specific functions, they display
one or more of the most beautiful names. They are exemplars who disclose the
possibilities of the human theomorphic state. Each is a model of Perfection.” See
Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge, p. 28.
226 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 260.
227 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 253, vol. 2, p. 130.
228 Note that maʿiyya in the Mujaddidī parlance is translated into English by Buehler
as “being together with God.” See Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet, p. 244.
229 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 130–​131 and p. 880.
230 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 246. The declaration of God’s incomparability (tanzīh) and
the declaration of His similarity (tashbīh) has been a heatedly debated issue
among Muslim intellectuals. See Chittick, The Sufi Path of Knowledge, p. 69.
Chittick points out that Ibn al-​ʿArabī attempted to maintain an equilibrium
between these two ways of perceiving God. In Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s point of view,
“inasmuch as God’s Essence is independent of words, the cosmos is not He,
but inasmuch as God freely assumes relationships with the words through
attributes such as creativity and generosity the cosmos manifests He. If we
examine anything in the universe, God is independent of that thing and infin-
itely exalted beyond it. He is ‘incomparable’ (tanzīh) with each thing and
all things. But at the same time each thing displays one or more of God’s
attributes, and in this respect the thing must be said to be ‘similar’ (tashbīh) in
some way to God.” Ibid., p. 9.
231 Ernst, Following Muhammad, p. 84.
232 Hoffmann, “Annihilation in the Messenger of God,” p. 41. On the notion of the
al-​insān al-​kāmil, which offers a synthesis of al-​Jīlī’s prophetology, see “ʿAbd al-​
Karīm, Ḳuṭb al-​Dīn b. Ibrāhīm al-​ḎJ̲īlī,” EI2.
233 Mark J. Sedgwick, “Saints and Sons: The Making and Remaking of the Rashīdi
Aḥmadi Sufi Order, 1799–​2000,” in Social, Economic, and Political Studies of
the Middle East and Asia, vol. 97, ed. Dale Eickelman (Leiden and Boston,
MA: Brill, 2005), pp.29–​30.
234 Ibid., p. 27.
206  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
235 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 657. The Qurʾān alludes to the Prophet’s
ascension in the following verse, “Exalted is He who took His Servant by night
from al-​Masjid al-​Ḥarām to al-​Masjid al-​ʾAqṣā, whose surroundings We have
blessed, to show him of Our signs. Indeed, He is the Hearing, the Seeing”
(Qurʾān 17:2). Also, the first eighteen verses of sūrat al-​Najm are dedicated to
the israʾ wa’l-​miʿrāj (Qurʾān 53:1–​18): “By the star when it descends (1) your
companion [Muḥammad] has not strayed, nor has he erred, (2) Nor does he
speak from [his own] inclination, (3) It is not but a revelation revealed (4) Taught
to him by one intense in strength (5) One of soundness. And he rose to [his]
true form (6) While he was in the higher [part of the] horizon. (7) Then he
approached and descended. (8) And was at a distance of two bow lengths or
nearer. (9) And he revealed to His Servant what he revealed. (10) The heart
did not lie [about] what it saw. (11) So will you dispute with him over what he
saw? (12) And he certainly saw him in another descent. (13) At the Lote Tree
of the Utmost Boundary (14)-​Near it is the Garden of Refuge (15) when there
covered the Lote Tree that which covered [it]. (16) The sight [of the Prophet] did
not swerve, nor did it transgress [its limit]. (17) He certainly saw of the greatest
signs of his Lord. (18).” Concerning isrāʾ and miʿrāj, see Frederick S. Colby,
Muhammad in History, Thought, and Culture: An Encyclopedia of the Prophet of
God, edited by Coeli Fitzpatrick and Adam Hani Walker, s.v. “Night Journey,”
(Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-​CLIO, 2014).
236 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 246.
237 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 686.
238 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 89.
239 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 573; see Hoffmann’s discussion about annihilation in the shaykh,
“Annihilation in the Messenger of God,” p. 55, fn. 33.
240 Liyakat N. Takim, The Heirs of the Prophet: Charisma and Religious Authority in
Shiʿite Islam (New York: State University of New York Press, 2006), p. 43.
241 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 793.
242 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 307.
243 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 791–​792.
244 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 573, 307.
245 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 648. The state of ʿabduhu and rasūluhu is attained when the way-
farer has been annihilated in God after being annihilated first in the shaykh and
then in the Prophet (ibid., vol. 2, p. 125). ʿAbduhu is mentioned in Qurʾān 17:1
and 53:10. Chittick asserts, “Ibn ʿArabi places servanthood at the highest level
of human realization. After all, it was through his servanthood that Muḥammad
was worthy to be God’s messenger (ʿabduhu wa rasūluhu).” See Chittick, The Sufi
Path of Knowledge, p. 24.
246 In literature, the nightingale resembles the poet, eloquent orator and storyteller.
A large number of poets admired the bird’s attributes and identified their own
personalities with him, selecting ʿandalīb for their pennames. See ʿAli Asani,
“Birds in Islamic Mystical Poetry,” p. 174.
247 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p.121, quoted and translated in Schimmel, A
Two-​Colored Brocade, p. 314.
248 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 124. Addas explains that in Islamic mysticism, as al-​Jīlī confirms,
annihilation in the Prophet is through the ʾittibāʾ al-​nabī, visualization of the
Prophet, imitation of his manner in ordinary life and reciting the tasliyya. Thus,
annihilation in the Prophet means the perception of the Prophet’s spirituality
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  207
(rūḥāniyya). See Addas, “The Figure of the Prophet in the Work of ʿAbdal
Karīm Jīlī.”
249 Hoffmann, “Annihilation in the Messenger of God,” p. 40.
250 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 344.
251 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 334–​335.
252 Ibid., vol.1, p. 436.
253 Ibid., vol.1, p. 864.
254 Schimmel, And Muhammad is His Messenger, p. 13. Dina Le Gall states that
“The notion of Bakrī descent developed gradually as the Naqshbandiyya
emerged from the earlier Khwājagānī tradition, and this notion became
established among Naqshbandīs in the generation after Bahāʾ al-​Dīn, though
even then, and indeed for some time later, it continued to be less than exclusive.
[…For the great Naqshbandī Sufi, Muhammad] Pārsā, Abū Bakr was ‘the most
perfect, most excellent, most splendid and the best knowing of the friends of
God.’ ” She observes that Pārsā traces the silsila through the triad of parallel
Bakrī, ʿAlīd and imami lines. Dina Le Gall, A Culture of Sufism: Naqshbandīs
in the Othoman World, 1450-​1700 (Albany: State University of New York Press,
2005), p. 128. She believes “The new circumstances of heightened Sunni-​Shiʿa
conflict in the sixteenth century did not drive Naqshbandiyya to transform their
notion of Bakrī descent from a spiritual into a political maker. As a whole they
clung to the old modes of celebrating their Bakrī descent as a spiritual symbol,
and they routinely continued to acknowledge and even praise parallel ʿAlīd and
imami lines of descendant as part of their silsila.” Ibid., p. 134.
255 Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism, p. 28.
256 Le Gall, A Culture of Sufism, p. 127; Ibid., “Forgotten Naqshbandīs and
the Culture of Pre-​ Modern Sufi Brotherhoods,” Studia Islamica, no. 97
(2003): pp. 87–​119.
257 Buehler refers to Sirhindī’s Sufism as an “inspired sober, sharīʿa-​centered Sufism.”
See Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet, pp. 92–​93. Weismann believes that Sirhindī’s
aim was the victory of orthodox Sunni Muslims over Shiʿas and non-​Muslims. In
this regard, the emperors had the main roles and Sirhindī and his successors tried
to influence their religious policies. The best example of their attempts can be
seen during Aurangzeb’s reign. See Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya, p. 55. In spite
of the opposition to Shiʿa Islam, Yohanan Friedmann believes that “Sirhindī was
not completely free from shīʿī elements in his thought and he assigned to ʿAli and
the twelve imams a special spiritual task in the realm of Sufism.” Friedmann,
Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, p. 113.
258 Harlan O. Pearson, Islamic Reform and Revival in the Nineteenth-​ Century
India: The Tarīqah-​i-​Muhammadīyah (New Delhi: Yoda Press, 2008), p. 24, fn. 70.
259 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 19.
260 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 59, 713.
261 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 18.
262 Qurʾān 56:10–​11; see ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 850.
263 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 864.
264 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 319; vol. 1, p. 849.
265 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 123.
266 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 19.
267 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 872–​873. Regarding the meaning of talwīn and tamkīn, see the
discussion in the section of this volume entitled “Criticism toward the People
208  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
of Talwīn and Tamkīn” in “Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya: A Critical View and
Reorientation of Sufism.”
268 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 254.
269 al-​ Ḥākīm al-​Nīshābūrī, al-​Mustadrak alā al-​ṣaḥīhayn (Hyderabad: Majlis Dāʾirat
al-​Maʿārif al-​Niẓāmiyyat al-​Kāʾināt, 1340/​1961), vol. 2, p. 241.
270 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 851.
271 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 873.
272 Ibid.
273 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 864.
274 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 869. It is in the last pages of the work that Bī Naẓīr asked the
rose to tell him her esoteric name (ism al-​bāṭin) before bidding him farewell, but
she answered that he, as vicegerent of the nightingale, would come to realize
her esoteric name because of his nearness to the nightingale and his devotion in
following him.
275 Ziad translates quṭb-​i irshād and quṭb-​i madār in Mīr Dard’s Sufism as “the pivot
of command” and “the pivot of revolution.” She explains that “these men belong
to the saints along with the substitutes (abdāl) and leaders. “There is a quṭb-​i
madār in every time period and the world revolves thanks to his existence, like
the tracing of a circle with a compass is dependent on the center point. He is
the perfect man, the incomparable horizon (yagānah-​yi āfāq) of his time, and
the manifestation of God’s infinite self-​disclosures. He is always aware of the
line between Creator and created and he is rooted in the commands of the reli-
gious law. When God grants existence to a thing, the first effusion of existence
is acquired by this pivot and then, through his mediation, this effusion and its
concomitants are passed on to the phenomenal world. He embodies the perfec-
tion of bodily worship and spiritual practice. The general public turns to him and
he exhibits small miracles and charismatic acts (taṣarruf). His outward know-
ledge is often limited and in many cases, pivots of revolution remain unaware of
their exalted station. Quṭb-​i irshād is usually considered to be a higher rank than
the pivot of revolution. He exhibits the greatest (spiritual?) command in his time
period and can express ancient realities and intellectual and textual knowledge
in the most beautiful manner. His heart is always being infused with God-​given
knowledge (ʿilm-​i ladunnī) and he can also be instantly endowed with worldly
knowledge if the need arises. He possesses beautiful character traits, actions and
words, and his outer and inner perfections are complete. He produces a won-
drous subtlety in all hearts capable of being touched. Regardless of whether the
pivot of command is aware of his own state, every scholar and gnostic, and the
righteous and devout individuals of his age are encompassed by him and derive
grace from him. In short, the differentiation (mufāṣṣilāt) of the entire world is
gathered in this one existent –​he is a differentiation of the entire reality of man.
The pivot of command may also be the pivot of revolution, but not vice versa.
When one individual embodies both stages of pivot-​hood, he is designated as the
sustainer of his age (qayyūm).” See Ziad, Quest of the Nightingale, pp. 237–​238.
276 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 851.
277 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 873.
278 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 271.
279 “Al-​ Ḳuṭb,” EI2. See also “al-​Insān al-​Kāmil,” EI2.
280 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 864.
281 Qurʾān 7:26. See ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 386–​387.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  209
282 Muhammad Qasim Zaman, “Political Power, Religious Authority, and the
Caliphate in Eighteenth-​Century Indian Islamic Thought,” in Ways of Knowing
Muslim Cultures and Societies: Studies in Honour of Gudrun Krämer, ed.
Schirin Amir-​Moazami, Bettina Graf, and Birgit Krawietz (Leiden and Boston,
MA: Brill, 2019), p. 318.
283 Ibid., p. 319.
284 Ibid., p. 326.
285 Aziz Ahmad asserts that the immorality of Sufis and increasing charlatanism in
which it is held that a societal and moral decay resulted from temporal distance
from the time of the Prophet, ignorance of the Qurʾān and lack of knowledge of
the ethics of the ḥadīth and sunna. Aziz Ahmad, An Intellectual History, p. 7. This
concept underscored the notion of the corruption of time (fisād al-​zamān); see
Radtke, “Sufism in the 18th Century: An Attempt at a Provisional Appraisal,”
in Die Welt des Islams, vol. 36 (1996): p. 342. Van Gelder discussed how this
notion builds Muslim idealism by constantly comparing the Prophet’s golden
age of Islam with the current situation and sees the present Islam critically as
degeneration. See Geert Jan van Gelder, “Good Times, Bad Times: Opinions on
Fasād az-​Zamān, ‘the Corruption of Time’,” in Inḥiṭāṭ, the Decline Paradigm: Its
Influence and Persistence in the Writing of Arab Cultural History, ed. Syrinx von
Hees (Würzburg: Ergon Verlag, 2017), p. 113.
286 Radtke, “Sufism in the 18th Century,” pp. 336, 342.
287 Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 73.
288 Aziz Ahmad, An Intellectual History, p. 45–​46; Rizvi, History of Sufism, vol.
2, p. 431. Alam writes concerning some uncommon behaviors among Sufis. He
reports that “the Gurzmars, a branch of the Rifa‘īs, carried maces, with them
they inflicted wounds upon themselves; the Jalalis took hashish, ate snakes and
scorpions, and allowed their leaders sexual promiscuity with female members
of the order. The Qlandars shaved their head and facial hair, used intoxicants,
rubbed ash on their bodies and wandered naked. The Haidaris adorned them-
selves with iron necklaces and bracelets and wore a ring attached to a lead bar
piercing their sexual intercourse. Like a number of the other heterodox orders
that developed outside India, these locally influenced Sufi orders paid little care
to regular Islamic rituals and prayers. The violation of Islamic norms and the
absorption of the evidently anti-​Islamic features were, however, glaringly bla-
tant.” See Alam, The Language of Political Islam, 90–​91.
289 Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 73. Some years later, Shāh ʿAbd al-​ʿAzīz (d.
1239/​1823), the eldest son of Shāh Walī Allāh, still criticized the Sufis of his time
for not being devoted to the rigorous practices of the past and failing to under-
take rigorous penances. Shāh ʿAbd al-​ʿAzīz Dihlawī, Malfuẓāt-​i Shāh ʿAbdul
ʿAzīz Dihlawī, ed. Qāḍī Bashīr al-​Dīn (Meerut: Maṭbaʿ-​i Mujtabāʾī, 1314/​1897),
p. 6, quoted in Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 49.
290 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 168.
291 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 882. ʿAndalīb differs from al-​Hujwīrī’s categorizations of Sufism
in Kashf al-​maḥjūb in that the three groups he mentions are Thawriyya, Ḥaqīqiyya
and Shaṭṭāriyya, while al-​Hujwīrī mentions Nūriyya, Khafīfiyya and Sayyāriyya.
Al-​Hujwīrī says “All these assert the truth and belong to the mass of orthodox
Muslims. The two commended sects are firstly, the Ḥulūlīs, who derive their
name from the doctrine of incarnation (ḥulūl) and incorporation (imtizāj), and
with whom are connected the Sālamī sect of anthropomorphists; and secondly,
210  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
the Ḥallājīs, who have abandoned the sacred law and have adopted heresy, and
with whom are connected the Ibāḥatīs and the Fārisīs.” al-​Hujwīrī, The Kashf
al-​Mahjūb, pp. 130–​131.
292 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 379.
293 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 661. All the mentioned prophets are possessors of holy books: the
Ṣuḥuf was revealed to Noah, the Zabūr (Psalms) to David, the Scrolls of Abraham
to Abraham, the Turāt (Torah) to Moses, and the Injīl (Gospel) to Jesus.
294 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 54. Based on al-​Tahānawī’s explanation concerning the subject of
knowledge (maʿrifa), the first part of the ḥadīth refers to those who are possessors
of intuitive (shuhūdī) knowledge whereas the second part refers to those, who
have argumentative (istidlālī) knowledge. See al-​Tahānawī, Kashshāf al-​iṣṭilāḥāt
al-​funūn, vol. 2, p. 1585.
295 The theory of the unity of being (waḥdat al-​wujūd) asserts: “God is the absolute
being (wujūd al-​ḥaqq)” and “there is no being other than God.”
296 There is a distinction among the people of the path: mubtadīs, mutawassiṭs, and
muntahīs.
297 Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya, p. 59. For a discussion about waḥdat al-​shuhūd,
see several of Sirhindī’s letters in Maktūbāt. For instance, see vol. 3, letters no. 89,
100, and 122. The Maktubāt includes 536 letters in three volumes written by
Sirhindī to his representatives, children, friends and rulers. The first volume
includes 313 letters and was called Durr al-​maʿrifat, the second volume includes
99 letters and was called Nūr al-​khalāʾiq. The last volume includes 124 letters and
was called Maʿrifat al-​ḥaqāyiq. For interpretation of Sirhindī’s waḥdat al-​shuhūd,
see Friedmann, Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, pp. 59–​68; ter Haar, Follower and Heir
of the Prophet, pp. 117–​136.
298 “In [Sirhindī’s] point of view, sharīʿa consists of knowledge, practice and sin-
cerity (ikhlāṣ), and the Sufi path is a supportive element for the maturation and
completion of sincerity, which is the third element of the religious law.” See
Abdullah Kartal, “Ahmad Sirhindî’s Criticism of Wahdat Al-​Wujûd and its
Historical Background,” International Journal of Business and Social Science,
vol. 4, no. 1 (2013): p. 177. The topic is discussed in ter Haar, Follower and Heir
of the Prophet; Buehler, Revealed Grace; Muhammad Abdul Haq Ansari, Sufism
and Shariʿah: A Study of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindī’s Effort to Reform Sufism
(Leicester: The Islamic Foundation, 1997).
299 Rizvi, History of Sufism, vol. 2, p. 425. About dīn-​i ilāhī see “Dīn-​i Ilāhī,” EI2.
300 Malik, Islam in South Asia, p. 178. Shiʿi ʿulamāʾ strongly condemned Sirhindī as
a serious danger to the state and Jahāngīr put him in prison in 1028/​1619. Lisa
Balabanlilar in Encyclopeadia Iranica states that this event was not a rejection of
the Mughal family’s alliance with the Naqshbandī order but a reflection of the
emperor’s personal religious skepticism, mistrust of insincere piety and fear of
public disturbance. See “Jahāngir,” EIr. For more information about the reasons
behind this event, see Muṭribī al-​Aṣamm Samarqandī, Khātima-​yi muṭribī, ed.
ʿAbd al-​Ghanī Mīr-​Yūsuf (Karachi: n.p., 1977). This work was translated by
Richard C. Foltz as Conversations with Emperor Jahangir (Costa Mesa, CA: n.p.,
1998). Friedmann posits that Sirhindī was probably condemned because of his
claim to have reached a spiritual state beyond that of Abū Bakr. See “Aḥmad
Serhendī (1),” EIr. See this debate in ter Haar, Follower and Heir of the Prophet,
p. 4; Muḥammad Badr al-​Dīn Sirhindī, Ḥaḍarāt al-​quds (Lahore: Maḥbūb Ilāhī,
1971), vol. 2, pp. 123–​126.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  211
3 ‌01 ʿAndalīb, Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā, fl. 92b.
302 Qurʾān 38:27.
303 Ibid., 46:3.
304 One of the fundamental aspects of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Sufism is the five divine
presences (al-​ḥaḍarāt al-​ilāhiyyat al-​khams) which were discussed as a doctrine
by his interpreters in order to explain the multiplicity of the divine manifestation.
It answers the question of how Being manifests in ontological realms. The most
comprehensive discussion was represented by Ṣadr al-​Dīn al-​Qūnawī in his work
al-​Nafaḥāt al-​ilāhiyya. The first presence is the level of Non-​delimited Unseen
(al-​Ghayb al-​Muṭlaq) or Essence (al-​Dhāt) which includes Exclusive–​Unity (al-​
Aḥadiyya) and Inclusive-​Oneness (al-​Wāḥidiyya) that is understandable. The
second presence is the spiritual world (ʿālam al-​arwāḥ) known as invincibility (al-​
jabarūt) or the world of the disengaged (ʿālam al-​mujarradāt). The third presence
is the imaginal world (ʿālam al-​mithāl) which is between the spiritual world
and the corporal world. The fourth presence is the visible and corporeal world,
known as nāsūt. The fifth presence is the perfect man (al-​insān al-​kāmil) that is
all-​comprehensive of other divine worlds (jāmiʿ al-​jamīʿ al-​marātib ilāhī) which
is called al-​kawn al-​jāmiʿ. See Ṣadr al-​Dīn al-​Qūnawī, al-​Nafaḥāt al-​ilāhiyya,
ed. M. Khwājawī (Tehran: Mawlā, 1375 Sh./​1996); William Chittick, “The Five
Divine Presences: From al-​Qūnawī to al-​Qayṣarī,” The Muslim World, no. 72,
(1982): pp. 107–​128.
305 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 269.
306 Qurʾān 4:79.
307 Ibid., 4:78.
308 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 808.
309 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 797.
310 Ibid., vol. 2. p. 407.
311 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 325. See Sirhindī, Maktūbāt, vol. 1, letter no. 31.
312 Qurʾān 2:194.
313 Ibid., 2:249. ʿAndalīb lists many verses of the Qurʾān to support the idea of
maʿiyya, such as: “And fear Allāh and know that Allāh is with those who fear
Him” (2:194); “Indeed, Allāh is with the patient” (2:153); “Allāh is with the
believers” (8:19); “Allāh is the ally of those who believe” (2:257); “And Allah
is the ally of the believers” (3:68). He also draws a connection between maʿiyya
and love and quotes verses that show love between God and creation, such as
“And do good; indeed, Allah loves the doers of good” (2:195); “Allāh loves the
doers of good” (2:195, 3:134, 148, 5:13, 93); “And Allāh loves the steadfast”
(3:146); “Allāh loves those who rely [upon Him]” (3:159); “Allāh loves those who
act justly” (5:42, 49:9, 60:8); “Allāh loves those who fear Him” (3:76, 9:4,7);
“Allāh loves those who purify themselves” (9:108); “Allāh loves those who are
constantly repentant and loves those who purify themselves” (2:222); “Fear
Allāh-​then indeed, Allāh loves those who fear Him” (3:76). See ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​
yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 577.
314 Qurʾān 57:4.
315 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 366–​367.
316 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 407. Fozail Ahmad Qadri writes, “Khwaja Nasir ʿAndalīb
vehemently attacks the group of mystics representing the pantheistic doctrine.
According to him speaking objectively Wahdat-​ul Wujud is invalid; it is not the
truth about the reality. Objectively Wahdat-​ush Shuhud or apparentism alone is
212  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
valid. But speaking subjectively, i.e., in their bearing on the mystic and his spir-
itual growth, both the doctrines are directed to the same, that is to dissociate him
from things other than Allāh.” Qadri, “Muslim-​Mystic Trends,” p. 147.
317 Talwīn is translated as agitation or changing coloration, which means a changing
of states. Tamkīn is the state of fixity, stability of one’s inner state. See both terms
in Mūsawī (ed.), Farhang-​i iṣṭilāḥāt-​i ʿirfān-​i Islāmī.
318 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 789–​790.
319 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 792. They seek to enjoy passions such as eating forbidden foods
and performing prohibited acts.
320 He advocates sobriety in Sufism and adherence to the sharīʿa. He was approved
by theologians and jurists.
321 John Renard, introduction to A to Z of Sufism, p. 4.
322 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 409.
323 Literally, Lane explains that miskīn is a synonym for faqīr and it signifies possessing
nothing. He presents different ideas concerning the comparison between faqīr
and miskīn. One idea is that the miskīn is in more difficult conditions than the
faqīr. In Arabic, taskīn means “to be still, motionless, stationary, in a state of rest,
quiet, calm.” He asserts that “miskīn is from sukūn, since the person to whom it
is applied trusts to, or relies upon, others so as to be, or become, easy, or quiet, in
mind […] it means lowly, humble, or submissive.” He refers to a ḥadīth in which
the Prophet says: “O God, make me to live lowly (miskīnān), and make me to die
lowly, and gather me among the congregation of lowly.” Regarding the meaning
of sakina, Lane states that it signifies “calmness, tranquility, gravity, staidness,
steadiness, or sedateness […] a quality inspiring reverence or veneration.” See
miskīn and sakina in Lane, An English-​Arabic Lexicon.
324 Chittick, The Path of Knowledge, p. 378.
325 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 410.
326 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 249–250. He refers to those friends of God who were sukrī
Sufis and achieved the connection of sameness (ʿayniyya), like Qayṣ Majnūn
and al-Ḥallāj. Their ecstatic utterances were under the influence of the state of
mystical intoxication. It can be described that after drinking the wine of with-
ness (maʿiyya) and after forgetting themselves, they, as sincere lovers, claimed to
be their own beloved, as Qayṣ Majnūn claimed, “I am Laylā” (ʾana Laylā); and
al-Ḥallāj claimed, “I am Truth” (ʾana al-Ḥaqq). However, ʿAndalīb emphasizes
undeniable differences between lover and beloved. See Ibid., vol. 1, p. 622.
327 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 795–​796.
328 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 247.
329 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 367.
330 R.S. Chaurasia, History of Modern India 1707-​ 2000 (New Delhi: Atlantic
Publisher and Distributors, 2002), p. 9. Muzaffar Alam refers to how the
majority of Hindus were under Muslim minority rule in Northern India and
how Sufis encouraged Hindus and Muslims to coexistence. He states that “the
establishment of the Delhi sultanate at the beginning of the thirteenth cen-
tury, Sufi orders (silsila) began to expand, encouraging and promoting many
beliefs held in common by Hindus and Muslims.” See Alam, The Language of
Political Islam, p. 82. Jadunath Sarkar believes that for a long time the main
concern of intellectuals was the religiously pluralistic harmonization of Islam
and Hinduism while rejecting the rigid orthodoxy of the brahmans and mullahs
and deemphasizing the differences in ritual, dogma and other external marks of
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  213
faith. See Jadunath Sarkar, Mughal Administration: Patna University Readership
Lectures, 1920 (Calcutta: M.C. Sarkar & Sons, 1920), p. 135. In this regard, the
attempts of Kabīr (d. ca. 923/​1518), Guru Nānak (d. 946/​1539), Dadu Dayal (d.
1011/​1603) and Chishti Sufis could be mentioned.
331 Regarding Dārā Shukūh’s contribution and monotheism, see Munis D. Faruqui,
“Dara Shukoh, Vedanta, and Imperial Succession in Mughal India,” in Religious
Interactions in Mughal India, ed. Vasudha Dalmia, and Munis Daniyal Faruqui
(New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2015).
332 Stein, A History of India, p. 176.
333 There is a heated debate about the influence of the conflict between these
brothers on religious issues of India. Dārā Shukūh’s fame is for his toleration
and his attempt to understand Hinduism by translation of fifty Upanishads from
Sanskrit into Persian. See Athar Ali, The Mughal Nobility Under Aurangzeb,
pp. 165–204. Schimmel notes the difference between Dārā Shukūh’s and Akbar’s
respective approaches to religion, pointing out that “Dārā Šokōh’s interest was
not so much in the reconciliation of Islam and Hinduism on the political and
practical level on which Akbar had focused; rather, it was focused on the experi-
ential realization that esoteric understanding of both religions provides proof of
a single divine principle behind the variety of outward manifestations, just as `the
ocean is one and the waves and foam flecks cannot be distinguished from it once
they disappear.’” “Dārā Šokōh,” EIr. This subject has been reflected in several
pages of primary literature, such as ʿAlī Muḥammad Khān, Mirʾāt-i Aḥmadī:
A History of Gujarat in Persian, ed. Syed Nawab Ali (Baroda: Oriental Institute,
1928), vol. 1, p. 296.
334 Muʿīn al-​Ḥaqq Khafī Khān, History of Alamgir (Karachi: n.p., 1975), pp. 258,259
quoted in Richards, The Mughal Empire, p. 177. Aurangzeb declared jihad upon
non-​Muslims, or the infidels (kāfirs), ordered the destruction of their schools and
temples and strictly refused to allow the building of new ones. See Spear (ed.),
The Oxford History of India, p. 416.
335 Richards, The Mughal Empire, p. 164.
336 The dahriyya are “those who believe in the eternity of the course of time”
according to the Mafātīḥ al-​ʿulūm. They were called azaliyya by the Ikhwān al-​
ṣafāʾ. Al-​Ghazālī considers them among groups of philosophers. Following him,
al-​Shahrastānī in Kitāb al-​Milal wa al-​Niḥal, believes that they are al-​ṭabīʿiyyūn,
“the naturalists who believe in dahr, who do not expound an intelligible [world].”
“Dahriyya,” EI2.
337 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 746, 790. ʿAndalīb places sukrī or Wujūdīs
alongside Hindu Brahmins and the followers of Advaita Vedanta, due to their
religious syncretism and openness. Regarding the similar concepts of waḥdat
al-​wujūd as Hindu pantheism and the Vedantism in South Asia, see Fazlur
Rahman, Islam, p. 164, quoted in David Damrel, “The Naqshbandi Reaction
Reconsidered,” in Beyond Turk and Hindu: Rethinking Religious Identities in
Islamicate South Asia, ed. David Gilmartin, Bruce B. Lawrence (Gainesville,
FL: University of Florida Press, 2000), pp. 176, 194, fn. 4.
338 Shāh Walī Allāh asked Aḥmad Shāh Abdalī, a non-​Indian leader, to save India for
Muslims, since non-​Muslims, particularly the Marathas, had gained power and
were spreading idolatry. See Aziz Ahmad, An Intellectual History, p. 9. Regarding
this subject see, Umar, Islam in Northern India, p. 373; Voll, Islam, p. 59.
214  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
339 Arthur Buehler, “The Naqshbandiyya in Timurid India: The Central Asian
Legacy,” Islamic Studies 7, no. 2 (1996): pp. 208–​228. See also Francis Robinson,
“Ottomans-​ Safavids-​Mughals: Shared Knowledge and Connective Systems,”
Islamic Studies, vol. 8 (1997): pp. 151–​184.
340 Claude Markovits (ed.), A History of Modern India, 1480-​1950, trans. Nisha
Goerge and Maggy Hendry (London and New York: Anthem Press, 2004), p. 168.
Muhammad Mujeeb, The Indian Muslims (London: George Allen and Unwin,
1967), p. 281; Mushirul Haq, “Muslim Understanding of Hindu Religion,” Islam
and the Modern Age, no.4 (1973): 71–​77.
341 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 802. On Sufism and Yoga, see Carl W. Ernst,
“Situating Sufism and Yoga,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 15, no. 1
(2005): pp. 15–​43.
342 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 585.
343 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 803.
344 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 799.
345 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 802.
346 Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 45. See ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 800.
347 For the debates regarding the superiority of prophets versus that of saints, see
Carl W. Ernst, introduction to Manifestations of Sainthood in Islam, ed. Grace
Martin Smith (Istanbul: Isis Press, 1993), pp. xi–​xxviii; ibid., “Muhammad as the
Pole of Existence,” 123–​138.
348 Baljon claims that Shāh Walī Allāh’s perspective on his own prophetology was
inspired by Ibn al-​ʿArabī. See M.S. Baljon, “Prophetology of Shāh WalĪ Allāh,”
Islamic Studies 9, no. 1 (1970): 69.
349 In Sufism, while prophethood came to an end with the last prophet, their spiritu-
ality remained among the saints. A group of Sufis tended to consider sainthood
(walāya) over prophecy (nubuwwa), since a saint (walī, a friend of God) obtains
the highest spiritual life. This idea was debated theologically in Sufi tradition
under the notion of tafaḍil al-​walī ʿan al-​nabī, which placed awliyāʾ above
anbiyāʾ and formed the walī-​nabī dichotomy. See Gerald T. Elmore, Islamic
Sainthood in the Fullness of Time: Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s Book of the Fabulous Gryphon
(Leiden: Brill, 1999), p. 131. Later, al-​Tirmidhī (d. ca. 279/​892) developed the
notion of the seal of saints (khātimat al-​awliyāʾ). Ibn al-​ʿArabī revised his idea
and highlighted differences between three terms: prophet (nabī), messenger
(rasūl) and saint (walī). From his point of view, as Elmore explains, while the
rasūl is a lawgiver, the nabī is a saint who received profound knowledge and
revelation. See Ibid., p. 152. According to McGregor, Ibn al-​ʿArabī believes
that “when the Prophet speaks on the matters that lie outside the scope of law,
he is then speaking as a saint and gnostic, so that his station as a knower [of
truth] is more complete and perfect than that as a [messenger] or lawgiver. If
you hear any of the [people of God] transmitting sayings from him to the effect
that sainthood is higher than prophecy, he means only what we have just said.
Likewise, if he says that the saint is superior to the prophet and the [messenger],
he means only that this is so within one person. This is because the messenger
in his sainthood is more perfect than he is as a prophet or a messenger. It does
not mean that any saint coming after him is higher than he. So Muḥammad
can function through sainthood or through his prophecy, yet his prophecy is
limited to a time and place while his walāya is universal and timeless. So within
his person (or within that of any other prophet or messenger), sainthood is
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  215
superior to prophecy, but an individual who has sainthood, but not prophecy
or mission, is not superior to one who possesses prophecy, or mission, this
is the case because risāla and nubuwwa are cumulative. In other words, the
messenger has mission, prophecy and sainthood, the prophet has prophecy
and sainthood. The saint has only sainthood.” See Richard J.A. McGregor,
Sanctity and Mysticism in Medieval Egypt: The Wafa Sufi Order and the Legacy
of Ibn ʿArabi (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2006), pp. 24–​
25. Compare this discussion with Michel Chodkiewicz, The Seal of the Saints,
Prophethood and Sainthood in the Doctrine of Ibn ʿArabi (Cambridge: The
Islamic Texts Society, 1993).
350 Concerning Shāh Walī Allāh’s opinion and its connection with reformist ideas,
see Pearson, Islamic Reform and Revival in the Nineteenth-​Century India, p. 29.
This subject is also studied in Buehler, “The Naqshbandiyya in Timurid India,”
pp. 208–​228. Disciples strove to nurture their bond (rābiṭa) with the shaykh along
with other practices such as fasting, praying and so on.
351 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 271.
352 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 882–​883.
353 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 340.
354 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 739.
355 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 399.
356 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 592.
357 Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 573, 656. Al-​Bukhārī narrated that “A man came to Allāh’s
Messenger and said, ‘O Allāh’s Messenger! What do you say about a man who
loves some people but cannot catch up with their good deeds?’ Allāh’s Messenger
said, ‘Everyone will be with those whom he loves.’ ” al-​Bukhārī, Kitāb al-​ṣaḥīḥ,
vol. 8, ḥadīth no. 6169, p. 110.
358 Qurʾān 4:59, “O ye who believe! Obey Allāh, and obey the Messenger, and
those charged with authority among you. If ye differ in anything among your-
selves, refer it to Allāh and His Messenger, if ye do believe in Allāh and the Last
Day: That is best, and most suitable for final determination.”
359 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 336.
360 Renard in A to Z of Sufism writes that companionship means ṣuḥba or muʿāshira,
that is relationship with the Prophet and friends of God. Later, it refers to the rela-
tionship between a disciple and his shaykh as a member of a mystical circle. See
Renard, A to Z of Sufism, s.v. “Companionship.” Concerning solitude (khalwa),
he describes it as the observation of thoughts in public and remembering God. It
means retreat and “withdrawal (ʿuzla)” from usual activities in family and society
in order to concentrate on spiritual practices. See ibid., s.v. “Retreat.”
361 Buehler, Sufi Heirs of the Prophet, p. 92.
362 Schimmel, Islam in the Indian Subcontinent, p. 95.
363 Fazlur Rahman, Revival and Reform in Islam, p. 170.
364 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 895. Regarding marriage, there are different
attitudes among Sufis. Al-​Hujwīrī, in Kashf al-​maḥjūb, dedicated one chapter
to the manners of married wayfarers and single wayfarers. This discussion can
also be followed in Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad al-​Ghazālī’s Iḥyā al-​ʿulūm al-​dīn
and Kimiyā-​yi saʿādat, Shahāb al-​Dīn Abū Ḥafṣ ʿUmar Suhrawardī’s ʿAwārif
al-​maʿārif, and ʿIzz al-​Dīn Maḥmūd al-​Kāshānī’s Miṣbāḥ al-​hidāyawa miftāh
al-​kifāya. Various attitudes toward marriage caused one group to reject it as a
worldly matter while the other group puts stress on its importance.
216  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
365 On the worldly point of view in eighteenth century Sufism, see Levtzion and Voll
(ed.), introduction to Eighteenth Century Renewal and Reform in Islam, pp. 9–​
10; Lizzio, “The Naqshbandi/​Saifiyya Battle for Islamic Tradition,” 55–​56. On
social and political engagement in early Naqshbandī Sufism, see ʿUbayd Allāh
b. Maḥmūd Aḥrār, The Letters of Khwaja ‘Ubayd Allah Ahrar and His Associates,
ed. Asom Urunbaev, trans. Jo-​An Gross (Leiden: Brill, 2002).
366 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 81.
367 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 601.
368 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 893–​894.
369 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 226.
370 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 516.
371 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 517.
372 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 57.
373 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 802.
374 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 58.
375 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 570.
376 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 741.
377 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 217.
378 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 388.
379 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 894. Hamid Algar considers the principle of khalwat dar anjuman
as the “most striking example of the political role of the Naqshbandiyya” which
exercises “intense devotion to God within the context of society.” See Hamid
Algar, “Naqshbandī Order,” p. 138.
380 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 217.
381 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 893.
382 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 388.
383 Weismann, The Naqshbandiyya, p. 27. The Naqshbandi principles, or kalimat-​i
qudsiyya, are as follows: control of the breath (hūsh dar dam), control of the
feet (naẓar bar qadam), voyage to the spiritual country (safar dar waṭan), soli-
tude within the crowd (khalwat dar anjuman), the act of remembering (yād kard),
the return of memory (bāzgasht), the protection of memory (nigāh dāsht), the
returning of memory (yād dāsht), control of the heart (wuquf-​i qalbi), control of
time (wuquf-​i zamānī) and control of numbers (wuqūf-​i ʿadadī). Also see a brief
explanation in ter Haar, Follower and Heir of the Prophet, pp. 47–​57.
384 Regarding ʿAndalīb’s criticism of Islamic formalism and his anti-​ clericalist
opinions see Neda Saghaee, “A Critical Examination of Influential Religious
Groups in Eighteenth-​Century India through the Lens of a Mystical Persian
Text,” in Sufis and Their Opponents in the Persianate World, eds. Reza Tabandeh
and Leonard Lewisohn (Irvine: Jordan Center for Persian Studies, 2020),
pp. 545–​564.
385 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 144.
386 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 777.
387 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 881.
388 Ibid.
389 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 726.
390 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 730.
391 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 788.
392 Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 882–​883. The need for ijtihād (rethinking) was one aspect of the
efforts toward a renewal of sharīʿa. It was a way to save Muslims from the most
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  217
complicated problems of the time. From the points of view of some scholars, such
as Esposito and Voll, advocating ijtihād is a revivalist element which serves as the
means for a radical reform of the community. Supporters of ijtihād were opposed
to blind imitation (taqlīd-​i jāmid) in matters of faith and fiqh. Kenneth Lizzio,
however, shows that the support for ijtihād in India was a revision of Sirhindī’s
thought, since for his devotees following a mujtahid is related to a comprehen-
sive familarity with the main Islamic sources. See Lizzio, “The Naqshbandi/​
Saifiyya Battle for Islamic Tradition,” endnote 4, p.54. Ali Rahnema, in his
introduction to Pioneers of Islamic Revival, asserts that Muslim revivalists bene-
fitted from ijtihād in understanding the revelation as it applies to modern times
based on the circumstances. He refers to the conflict between revivalist Sunnis
and traditional Sunnis who prohibit ijtihād as it was practiced during the thir-
teenth century. See Ali Rahnema, introduction to Pioneeers of Islamic Revival,
ed. Ali Rahnema (London and New Jersey: Zed Book Ltd., 1994), p. 8. The
struggle about fiqh between the imami Shiʿi like the Akhbāriyya and Uṣūliyya
and the spread of their debate in the Indian religious environment of India can
be followed in Robert Gleave, Scripturalist Islam The History and Doctrines of
the Akhbārī Shīʿī School (Leiden and Boston, MA: Brill, 2007). For Shiʿism in
India see Justin Jones, Shiʿa Islam in Colonial India Religion, Community and
Sectarianism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012).
393 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 848.
394 Ibid., vol. 1, p. 847. Although ʿAndalīb explains that an understanding of the
differences between the Ḥanafī and Shāfiʿī schools cannot be conveyed through
the written word, he does try to clarify the differences of these two schools.
He divides prophethood into two parts: the ascending part which relates to
sainthood/​friendship with God (wilāya) and the descending part which relates
to prophecy (nubuwwa). With respect to the first aspect, the devotee is focused
on God and receives the blessings of the saints (wilāya), while concerning the
second aspect, the devotee is focused on creation and the divine laws (Sharīʿa)
to which he must adhere. Shāfiʿī religious jurisprudence has comprehensively
addressed issues related to the first part, the status of the wilāya of prophet-
hood, while Ḥanafī religious jurisprudence has perfectly understood the status
of the nubuwwa of prophethood. After clarifying the differences among these
two schools of fiqh, he articulates his own position as follows: “I am Ḥanafī
but I do not follow Abū Ḥanīfa in some fatāwā and new issues (muḥaddathāt)
like his other famous followers such as Abū Muḥammad (d. 189/​805) and Abū
Yūsuf (d. 182/​798), who attained the status of taḥqīq [or ijtihād] from taqlīd.”
ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 787–​789, qouted in Saghaee, “A Critical
Examination of Influential Religious Groups,” p. 562, fn.52.
395 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, pp. 840–​841.
396 Being both ghulām (“a servant”) and khākī (“terrestrial”) is remarkable for
several reasons. First, khākī means “created from soil,” since according to the
Qurʾān, God created humankind out of dust (Qurʾān 3:59) or clay (ibid., 37:11,
15:28, 23:12). Second, this name refers to his low place in the universe, since he
lives in the world that is described as ʿālam-​i khākī (“terrestrial world”). Third, in
Persian this word refers to a praiseworthy attribute and means modest, unselfish
and humble. Fourth, khākī symbolizes all human beings and the people of earth,
but it has a particular connection with Adam, whose name is derived from the
Hebrew word for earth (ʾadama). This refers to God forming human beings from
218  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
the dust of the earth: “Then the Lord God formed man [ʾadam] of the dust of the
earth [ʾadama]” (Genesis 2:7).
397 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 443. The legend demonstrates the situation
of man as a mirror of the universe.
398 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 454. Ghulām Khākī is described as a farmer and similarly, it is
narrated in a ḥadīth that Adam planted seeds on the earth. See Brannon M. Wheeler,
Introduction to the Qurʾān: Stories of the Prophets (New York: Continuum,
2001), p. 28.
399 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 661. Based on the Qurʾān, “the creation
of Adam was from clay (7:12), while God breathed into him some of His
spirit (15:29) and he became God’s caliph on the earth. The angels objected
and believed that Adam would cause trouble and violence (2:30). Adam is the
possessor of comprehensive knowledge since God taught him all of the names
(2:30–​32). God ordered the angels to bow down to Adam, but Satan disobeyed
and God expelled him from heaven (2:34, 7:11–​18). Adam and his wife lived in
paradise. God forbade them from eating from the tree of immortality (7:189,
2:35, and 20:120). After eating the forbidden fruit, God expelled them from para-
dise. In exile, they lived on the earth and their offspring will continue to live
and die until the day of resurrection (7:20–​25, 20:121–​23, 2:36).” Juan Eduardo
Campo, Encyclopedia of World Religions, Encyclopedia of Islam, s.v. “Adam
and Eve” (New York: Infobase Publishing, 2009). Concerning Adam in Islamic
literature, see M. J. Kister, “Ādam: A Study of Some Legends in Tafsīr and
Ḥadīth Literature,” Israel Oriental Studies, no. 13 (1993): 113–​174. For a brief
comparative study about Adam in Islam and Judaism, see Scott B. Noegel and
Brannon M. Wheeler, The A to Z of Prophets in Islam and Judaism, s.v. “Adam”
(Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2010).
400 In the Qurʾān, Adam was forbidden from eating the fruit from a particular
tree: “And We said, O Adam, dwell, you and your wife, in Paradise and eat there-
from in abundance from wherever you will. But do not approach this tree, lest you
be among the wrongdoers” (Qurʾān 2:35). Commentators on the Qurʾān believed
that the forbidden tree or fruit refers to a grapevine and wheat. In the legend
of Ghulām Khākī, ʿAndalīb applied the imagery of forbidden wine (may) from
Persian mystical literature. Sanāʾī Ghaznawī (d. ca. 545/​1150) was the first poet
who used the themes of wine, drunkenness (mastī) and the tavern (maykhāna)
to represent deep mystical experience. After him, Shams al-​Dīn Muḥammad
Ḥāfiẓ Shīrāzī benefited from the imagery of wine and he described an intoxicated
mystic as a drunk. In sum, this imagery was used to portray the sincere feelings
of the Sufi lovers, who were opposed to the ostentatious religiosity of the ascetics
(zāhidān).
401 In the Qurʾān, Satan misled Adam and Eve: “But Satan whispered to them to
make apparent to them that which was concealed from them of their private
parts. He said, ‘Your Lord did not forbid you this tree except that you become
angels or become of the immortal’.” (Qurʾān 7:20).
402 “So he made them fall, through deception. And when they tasted of the tree,
their private parts became apparent to them, and they began to fasten together
over themselves from the leaves of Paradise. And their Lord called to them, ‘Did
I not forbid you from that tree and tell you that Satan is to you a clear enemy?’ ”
(Qurʾān 2:22).
403 The terrestrial sphere is divided into seven areas: India, Arabia, Shām, Iran,
Rūm, Turan and China.
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  219
4 04 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 107; vol. 2, p. 449.
405 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 453.
406 The lowest world is the world of the earth or humanity and is called ʿālam al-​
mulk or nāsūt.
407 Ibid., p. 445.
408 Ibid., p. 454. In Islamic cosmology, there exist two mysterious cities, Jābulqā and
Jābulsā. The former is a city in the east, beyond which there is no habitation. This
is the first station on the path of the wayfarer, while the last station is Jābulsā,
a city in the west that has one thousand gates. The cities are located in the
“imaginal world” (ʿālam al-​mithāl). See Dihkhudā, Lughhat nāma, s.v. “Jābulsā”
and s.v. “Jābulqā”; Sajjādī, Farhang-​i iṣṭilāḥāt wa taʾbīrāt-​i Fārsī, s.v. “Jābulsā wa
Jābulqā.” Ḥumayrā Arsanjānī mentions that these cities became important, since
according to Shiʿi sources, the Mahdī, who is hidden, lives there until the end of
the world. “Jābulsā wa Jābulqā,” CGIE.
409 Pūr Nāmdāriyān, Ramz wa dāstān-​hā-​yi ramzī, p. 299.
410 Suhrawardī, al-​Ghurbat al-​Gharbiyya, in Majmūʿa muṣannafāt, ed. Henry Korbin
(Tehran: Anjuman-​i Ḥikmat wa Falsafa-​yi Iran, 1355 Sh./​1976), vol. 2, p. 278,
quoted in Sajjādī, s.v. “Bilād-​i Gharb” and s.v. “Jabulsā wa Jabulqā”. In the same
way, Jalāl al-​Dīn Rūmī asserts that India is the paradise of truth in the story of
“the Parrot and the Grocer” in his Mathnawī.
411 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 435.
412 The spell-​breaking jewel (shāh muhra) has also been called the Cup of Jamshīd
(Jām-​i Jam) and the World-​revealing Cup (Jām-​i jahān namā) in mystical Persian
literature. It is a rare and precious piece of stone that reflects the whole world
along with the seven heavens, in addition to revealing deep truths. Dihkhudā,
Lughat nāma, s.v. “Shāh muhra” and s.v. “Jām-​i Jam.”
413 These topics, according to Chittick, are very important in Islamic mysticism;
and it was these elements, instead of divine wrath and vengeance, that were
emphasized by many Sufi authors, like Aḥmad al-​Samʿānī’s (d. 534/​1140), who
in his work, Rawḥ al-​arwāḥ fi sharḥ asmāʾ al-​malik al-​fattāḥ, relies on God’s
mercy, love and compassion. The main idea derives from the famous ḥadīth,
“God’s mercy predominates over his wrath.” See William Chittick, “The Myth
of Adam’s Fall in Ahmad Samani’s Rawh al-​Arwah,” in The Heritage of Sufism,
vol. 1, ed. Leonard Lewisohn (Oxford: Oneworld, 1999), p. 339.
414 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 614–​623.
415 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 668.
416 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 661.
417 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 641.
418 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 665.
419 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 515. It is also called the First Intellect (ʿAql al-​Awwal) or the
Reality of Realities (Ḥaqīqat al-​Ḥaqāyiq).
420 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 466.
421 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 623.
422 Ibid., pp. 638–​639.
423 Ibid., p. 639.
424 Al-​Ṭabarī in Taʾrīkh al-​rusul waʾl-​mulūk, composed in Arabic, identifies India
as location where Adam and Eve were casted down. To support his claim, he
added the names of some reliable and prominent scholars, among them the name
of al-​Ḥasan b. Yaḥyā ʿAbd al-​Razzāq Maʿmar Qatādah can be mentioned. Al-​
Ṭabarī also considers the account of al-​Ḥārith b. Saʿd Hishām b. Muḥammad,
220  Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya
who places the fall of Eva in Jeddah, while also maintaining that Adam arrived
at a mountain in India called Nūdh. See Muḥammad al-​Ṭabarī, The History of
al-​Ṭabari, trans. Franz Rosenthal (Albany, NY: State University of New York
Press, 1989), vol. 1, pp. 290–​91.
425 Carl W. Ernst, “India as a Sacred Islamic Land,” in Religions of India in Practice,
ed. Donald S. Lopez Jr. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995), p. 556;
Jamal Malik dedicates the last pages of his paper, “Constructions of the Past in
and about India: From Jahiliyya to the Cradle of Civilization,” to the study of
Adam in India, with focus on Āzād Bilgrāmī’s thought. See Malik, “Constructions
of the Past in and about India,” p. 65–​67.
4 26 Ernst, “India as a Sacred Islamic Land,” p. 557. He explains:
Adam’s peak is the second holiest place on earth next to Mecca; India was
the site of the first revelation, the first mosque on earth, and the place from
which pilgrimage to Mecca was first performed. Using the Sufi mystical con-
cept of Muḥammad’s primordial prophetic nature, Ᾱzād described India as
the place where the eternal light of Muḥammad first manifested in Adam,
whereas Arabia is where it found its final expression in the physical form of
the prophet. The black stone of Mecca descended with Adam, the staff of
Moses grew from a myrtle that Adam planted on the peak, and all fruits,
perfumes, and craft tools derive from Adam’s descent to India.
(ibid.)
427 Nile Green, Indian Sufism since the Seventeenth Century: Saints, Books and
Empires in the Muslim Deccan (London and New York: Routledge, 2006), p. 46.
428 Schimmel, Muhammad is His Messenger, p. 208. Chaurasia, History of Modern
India 1707–​2000, p. 9.
429 Friedmann, Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, p. 49.
430 Mana Kia in her book identifies the last two groups as Turanians and Iranians
in the Persianate Hindustan with the aims to examine the notions of “exile, com-
munity and self-​figuring.” Her debate conceptualizes ghurbat (exile) and waṭan
(home) for Iranian immigrants in India. She traces the positions of Iranians
and Turanians back to the reign of Akbar, since the emperor’s policy to con-
trol the power of the Chagatai elites opens the door of the Mughal court to
those who accompanied Humayun. She refers to ʿAbd al-​Karīm Kashmīrī
who uses “Turani Mughals (Mughuliyyih-​yi Tūrānī)” for elites from Turan.
This naming was a way to recognize them from Iranian nobles. See Mana Kia,
Persianate Selves: Memories of Place and Origin Before Nationalism (Stanford,
CA: Stanford University Press, 2020), p.161. Analyzing the concept of sacredness
of India rejects the ghurbat /​waṭan dilemma in order to streghten the notion of
waṭan/​India in ʿAndalīb’s discourse.
431 Ralph Russell and Khurshidul Islam, Three Mughal Poets (London: George Allen
and Unwin Ltd., 1968), p. 21. Here, the study of works in the genre of shahr āshūb
becomes very significant, and as Carla R. Petievich notes, they were influenced by
the events of the time and are the best instrument for understanding the worldview
of those who witnessed them. See Carla R. Petievich, “Poetry of the Declining
Mughals: Shahr Ashub,” Journal of South Asian Literature, vol. 25, no.1 (1990): 99.
432 Petievich, “Poetry of the Declining Mughals,” p. 101. See also H.M. Elliott and
John Dowson (trans. and eds.), The History of India As Told by its Own Historians
(Allahabad: Kitab Mahal, 1964), vol. 8, pp. 21–​22. This genre in Urdu became
something quite different from its Persian counterpart. See Soofia Siddique,
Muḥammad Nāṣir ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya  221
“Remembering the Revolt of 1857: Contrapuntal Formations in Indian Literature
and History,” (PhD diss., SOAS, 2012), p.43.
433 This point of view was common among many Sufi authors, and as Chittick
asserts, they paid attention to the positive consequences of the fall of Adam.
Chittick, “The Myth of Adam’s Fall,” pp. 339–​341.
434 Malik, “Constructions of the Past in and about India,” p. 65. He writes that
“Since the Holy Spirit first descended on Adam and informed the first prophet
(Adam) about the last prophet (Muhammad), prophecy and revelation were
initiated in India to the point where the Muhammadan light, a topos developed
by Khurasanian Sufis in the thirteenth century, was transferred through Adam
and finally delivered to Muhammad. Hence, India was the source of light, which
assumed its final physical form only in Arabia.” Ibid., p. 66. In a footnote he
regarding the concept of millat ḥanifi, he explains “millat ḥanifi (the commu-
nity adhering to the religion of Abraham) started from India and thus the
Muhammadan kingdom actually germinated from here. Indeed, the black stone
of the Kaʿba descended here for the first time. Similarly, Noah hailed from India
where all the God-​given amenities such as diamonds, professional tools, good
smell, pious tree, fruits etc. appeared for the first time.” In sum, the first mosque
was located in India and India became the very starting point for the pilgrimage
toward the Holy Land. See ibid., fn. 66. For more on this subject, see Ernst,
“India as a Sacred Islamic Land,” p. 557.
435 Malik, “Constructions of the Past in and about India,” p. 71.
436 God’s manifestation through the attributes of majesty and wrath in India was
very common among Muslim adherents of shahr āshūb such as Mīr Taqī Mīr.
437 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 35.
438 This ḥadīth is regarded as ṣaḥīḥ based on sources such as al-​Tirmidhī, Jāmiʿ
al-​Tirmidhī, ḥadīth no. 2324, 357; Abdul Hussain Muslim ibn al-​Hallaj, Ṣaḥīḥ
Muslim, trans. Nasiruddin al-​Khattab, ed. Huda Kattab (Riyadh: Maktaba Dar-​
us-​Salam, 2007), ḥadīth no.7417, p. 361.
439 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 8, vol. 1, p. 156.
440 Ibid., vol. 2, p. 57.
441 Mīr Dard, Chahār risāla, cited and translated in Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 32.
442 Qurʾān 21:107: “And We have not sent you, [O Muḥammad], except as a mercy to
the worlds.”
443 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, p. 141.

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Epilogue

From a broader perspective, studying ʿAndalīb’s life and mystical teachings


offers a doorway through which we can revisit the evolution of the mystical
side of Islam, and indeed of Islamic thought in general, in eighteenth-​century
South Asia as well as further afield. His thought must be considered in rela-
tion to the increasing tendency in the Islamic world to evoke the label and
concept of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya as an especially notable intellectual
development of that age. We must contextualize ʿAndalīb’s use of this notion
as well as his thought and work overall as one intellectual’s reaction to the
ups and downs experienced in a specific time and place. The eighteenth cen-
tury was a critical time for Muslims in India, with political threats alongside
religious and ethical laxity leading Muslim intellectuals to adopt a very bitter
critical perspective and to believe in the decline of Islam. Yet at the same time,
such conditions made them aspire to re-​empower the faith and rejuvenate
Islam. Thus, the century gave rise to a diverse array of scholarly theories by
modern scholars that describe and interpret this period in different ways. The
political perspective sees this time as a “dark age,” laying emphasis on political
weakness and instability by shedding light on the roots of the major concerns
of Muslim intellectuals: the death of Aurangzeb (1118/​1707) at the begin-
ning of that century, the invasion of Nādir Shāh in the middle (1151/​1739)
and the increasing power of indigenous groups like the Jats, Marathas, and
Sikhs as well as the expansion of colonialism during the second part of the
century. From the cultural-​religious perspective, this century featured strong
motivational factors that could be seen as having stimulated a prosperous age
for Islamic thought. Such a perspective reveals an enlightened aspect of the
period and thus rejects the idea of a cultural failure. The prevailing idea of
a renewal of Islam among early modern Sufis has been described by western
scholars as Sufi revivalism. The present volume deals with the related term
neo-​Sufism and discusses the twentieth-​century debates surrounding this con-
troversial notion. It scrutinizes Fazlur Rahman’s claim, as the most famous
proponent of this theory, and O’Fahey and Bernd Radtke’s critical points of
view. However, this volume has benefited from these debates in assessing the
main features of ʿAndalīb’s Sufism to affirm the continuity of Sufi tradition
through the theory of decline and the mentioned topics of discussions.
DOI: 10.4324/9781003228899-5
232  Epilogue
As an examination of ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya, the
present volume assesses the characteristics of one important example of
eighteenth-​century Sufism and the above-​mentioned developments in Islamic
thought during that era, demonstrating how highlighting the character of the
Prophet ensured a return to the pristine form of Islam. It argues that revisiting
such a canonical role encourages the realization of the Prophet’s sunna and
adherence to the prescriptions of the Qurʾān as the only solution for restoring
Muslim dignity and empowering Islam. The main characteristic of ʿAndalīb’s
magnum opus was its symbolic representation of the nightingale’s sorrowful
song (nāla-​yi ʿandalīb), which must be read as the Prophet’s lamentation (nāla)
and complaint about the religious and social ailments of the Muslim commu-
nity and a strong critique of the various readings of Islam that were prevalent
in ʿAndalīb’s day. Hence, ʿAndalīb’s Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb is a mixture of criticism
and idealism that addresses the contradictions between the flawed Muslim
community of his time and the idealized Muslim community of early Islam.
It was precisely these discrepancies that led him to found his Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya in order to rectify the situation by reconciling and bringing
the real into alignment with the ideal.
With regard to the close relationship between religiosity in Islam and pol-
itical issues, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb does not ignore the latter. It was by selecting the
colorful genre of storytelling that he was able to freely express implicit criti-
cism about the role of the Mughals in the decline of Islam, along with his cri-
tique of corruption in the administration and the royal family at the Mughal
court, and thus escape censorship during Muḥammad Shāh’s reign. Under
the guise of analogies, metaphors, and fables and through using different
characters such as kings, courtiers, high-​ranking officials, and political rivals,
he evaluates the behavior of Mughal kings and refers to the lack of various
values of ruling and to the disorder in society that had allowed anarchy to
dominate. Of note, the commencing story of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb begins with his
desire for distributing wealth and public well-​being under a strong govern-
ment.1 His narrative demonstrates how, in his eyes, the interior life and house-
hold events of emperors along with the disputation between princes over the
throne led to the decline of the empire. For him, the close combination of
religiosity, morality, and politics by according a role in the court to the great
shaykhs would help to restore the empire to the path of true Islam. Thus, with
a very bitter viewpoint about what transpired in the court because of the con-
stant plotting of courtiers and the activities of kingmakers, he advises that the
power behind the throne must be a spiritual religious leader as vizier.2
This same feature that protected ʿAndalīb’s chef-​d’œuvre from censure
during his own time seems to have resulted in its relative obscurity today.
That is, its form as a lengthy love story in Persian prose has probably caused
his thought and work to be undervalued by academic scholars. Thus, up
until recent years, it has remained among the large number of forgotten
manuscripts of that age in India. Conversely, its use of allegory and sym-
bolic hidden meaning must be apprehended as its foremost distinguishing
Epilogue  233
characteristic, making it stand out among the treasure-​ trove of Indian
Islamic mystical manuscripts from the commonly encountered difficult, dry
and lengthy discussions of other scholars of his time. Such a characteristic
also extended the text’s potential readership, making his complex mystical
ideas accessible to a wider audience by engaging the mind in actively moving
between two layers of meaning, which we have explored here in investigating
the relationship of its apparent plot with the hidden meaning thereof.
The present volume also demonstrates the significance of the social role
of Sufi affinities in the shaping of ʿAndalīb’s mystical thought. His Sufism
was decisively shaped by his family background and personal network, in
which a prominent role was played by the Naqshbandā Mujaddidī Sufi trad-
ition, thus making clear the roots of his call for an active sharīʿa-​based and
revivalist Sufi path. As has already been mentioned regarding his opinion
about political issues, like many Naqshbandīs who combined Sufi lives and
administrative positions, he enjoyed a high rank and reputation at the court,
which was also common in his family, who were among the aristocrats from
the time of the strict religious governing of Aurangzeb. Such positions meant
that he and other such Sufis were more intimately familiar with the relation-
ship between religion and politics and encouraged their activism in society.
Impressed with the engagement of Aḥmad Sirhindī’s representatives in the
political sphere as powerful charismatic masters in supporting or rejecting the
emperors, ʿAndalīb’s mystical affiliation led him to make major changes in his
life, including resigning from the army. It was in large part his familiarity with
the corruption in different parts of the government that gave a critical color
to the social and political aspect of his reviving the role of the Prophet and
pristine Islam.
ʿAndalīb’s views not only appear to validate and echo the reformist ten-
dency of the Mujaddidī spiritual tradition, but his thought also demonstrates
the variety of understandings possible within the Mujaddidiyya, since his
Sufism synthesizes that of his two masters, with their somewhat divergent
approaches in terms of their respective Mujaddidī mystical readings of the
sharīʿa and the Prophet’s tradition. His devotion to Shāh Saʿd Allāh Gulshan
demonstrates how this master extended the horizon of the Mujaddidīs by
opening the door to the mystical and aesthetic value of music and dance.
For this study, the most significant result of ʿAndalīb’s being in companion-
ship with Gulshan was his adopting Persian to express his teachings, since
the latter showed him the extraordinary effect of the words of this language
in literature and their mysterious power for storytelling, which ʿAndalīb felt
could bring about a spiritual revolution. Nevertheless, both men also took
part in some highly important cultural events that heralded the ascendancy
of Urdu, which later became the main literary language of Muslims in South
Asia. It was in Gulshan’s circle that he became familiar with Bīdil’s poetry
and the reception of Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s mystical metaphysics in Indian Sufism.
On the multi-​religious society of Delhi, Gulshan’s circle provided a moderate
and inclusive expression of the Mujaddiyya and it gathered non-​Muslim
234  Epilogue
spiritual aspirants along with Muslims. However, ʿAndalīb’s goal of pre-
serving Islam must be simultaneously considered as a factor that causes him
not to show tolerance toward the indigenous religions in his book, although
he was impressed by the richness of Hindu mysticism, particularly Yoga. His
attention was captured by the breathing methods of Yoga, in addition to 16
yogic postures as beneficial methods to purify the soul and the heart and also
to keep oneself healthy.3 However, he does not refer to the non-​Islamic origins
of such practices and wanted to represent them in an Islamized form.
If Gulshan’s ecstatic Sufi way was not typical of Naqshbandī Mujaddidī
thought, by following Pīr Muḥammad Zubayr and joining his circle, ʿAndalīb
and other Mujaddidīs came much closer to Sirhindī’s teachings, a mystical
manner of thinking that was deeply preoccupied with the sharīʿa. With greater
loyalty to Sirhindī’s criticism toward the dangers of religious laxity, vices,
irreligiosity, ignorance of the Qurʾān, distortion of the Prophetic tradition
and forgetting the Prophetic sunna as narrated in correct and reliable ḥadīths,
under the influence of Zubayr, ʿAndalīb felt firmly that a steep and profound
decline was underway among Muslims, and this made him deeply sorrowful
over the weakness of the Islamic world. It was with intense despair that he
witnessed catastrophic calamities befall the Muslims as well as the severe rifts
and disunity that plagued the umma. ʿAndalīb inherited Zubayr’s opinion that
this dire situation was due to the increasing failure of Muslims to follow the
prophetic example. Therefore, his thought was the synthesis of two different
viewpoints that led to the birth of his Indian Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya, an
ethical and practical manner of thinking and living with an emphasis on sin-
cerity (khulūṣ) in emulating the Prophet Muḥammad.
It was from such a unique spiritual background that ʿAndalīb’s Sufism
emerged as an expression of the essential need for strong leadership and a
concern for a religious resurgence. Regarding his belief in the appearance of
a savior whom he called the nāṣir (“helper”), he also uses the term Khāliṣ
Muhammadī in referring to this messianic figure, thereby emphasizing a
close connection and sincere devotion to the Prophet, which encompasses the
concepts of the perfect man and the friend of God (walī). Attention should
also be paid to the fact that he considered yār, a Persian word that is equiva-
lent to nāṣir, as the best name to call this helper.4 His belief was grounded,
almost 100 years after Sirhindī, in the concept of mujaddid-​i miʾa, a renewer
who rejuvenates Islam every century, which is distinct from the mujaddid-​i
alif, a renewer that appears every 1,000 years. Thus, it is not only in ʿAndalīb’s
Sufism that such a savior figure can be traced; in fact, similar concepts can
also be observed occupying prominent places in the thought of his contem-
poraries, such as Shāh Walī Allāh and his claim to being the preserver of
time (qāʾim al-​zamān). ʿAndalīb did not elaborate the concept of nāṣir in
as great a level of detail as has been done with regard to the concepts of
the mujaddid and the qayyūm in the Mujadidiyya, but for him, the obvious
crucial role of the nāṣir, who in his eyes was none other than himself, was
to promise hope and the opportunity for Muslims to be saved. Overall, the
Epilogue  235
need for leading spiritual authority can be seen as a common concern of the
Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya across the Islamic world. For instance, it appeared
in al-​Tijānī’s claim of being khātam al-​wilāya and also his consideration of
the status of the hidden pole (al-​ quṭb al-​maktūm).5
The obvious correlation in ʿAndalīb’s Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya with
Sirhindī’s Mujaddidiyya, from which the former emerged, was an emphasis on
Islamic identity and sharīʿa that demands a reconstruction of Muslim society
in which not only Sufism but also everyday life is brought back into close
conformity with the example of the early Muslim community. Such a strong
affirmation of Islamic identity was born in a society in which Muslims were
a minority, and for him, they must uphold the absolute validity and purity
of the fundamental sources of Islam, viz., the Qurʾān and ḥadīth, and not
succumb to the influence of non-​Islamic elements of the Indian environment.
Thus, the resistant attitude in his thought was intended to stave off the threat
of polytheism (shirk) created by the co-​existence of Islam with Hinduism, that
had sometimes resulted in religious synthesis and shared tradition. Later, this
aspect, which seeks the eradication of innovative practices and underscores
the distinction between Muslims and non-​Muslims, might have been expanded
regarding the role of the followers of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya, in a gen-
eral form, in preserving Islam from Western colonial threats, but that was not
yet ʿAndalīb’s concern.
If ʿAndalīb’s Muḥammadiyya was religiously exclusivist with regard to
preventing non-​Muslim ideas and practices from being incorporated into
Islam, it displays considerable intra-​Muslim inclusivity by seeking to tran-
scend the different denominations and schools of thought and thereby to
unify all Muslims. In this regard, three points must be considered: (a) the role
of al-​Ḥasan, who similar to the Prophet unified Muslims and whose spiritual
initiation of ʿAndalīb is what led to the very establishment of the Ṭarīqah-​yi
Muḥammadiyya, in relation with the concept of a pure and true Islam; (b) the
intra-​Muslim inclusivity of this path; and (c) ʿAndalīb’s opinions concerning
two types, or better, facets of the ideal relationship with God, namely, with-​
ness (maʿiyya) and sameness (ʿayniyya), which seek to end Sunni/​ Shiʿa
polemics.
First, the particular role of al-​Ḥasan must be considered under the influ-
ence of a classic Naqshbandī appropriation of the family of the Prophet that
is significant in terms of the centralization of the Prophet in the Ṭarīqa-​yi
Muḥammadiyya, since ʿAndalīb inherited the truth of Islam, that is in his
words the Prophet’s poverty (faqr-​i Muḥammadī), through al-​Ḥasan in a
mystical vision. Such inheritance was not, according to ʿAndalīb, exclu-
sively Sufi per se, as he used the designation of Muḥammadiyya to distin-
guish and separate his teachings from those of pseudo-​Sufis along with other
apparent Muslims belonging to the various trends and sects that had added
fuel to disunity in the umma. In such a system of thought, he called himself
a faqīr and a Muḥammadī, rather than an ʿārif, a Sufi or even a Musalmān
(Persian for “Muslim”). It can be compared with other non-​Indian adherents
236  Epilogue
of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya like al-Tījānī, who uses the title of miskīn,
according to the Prophet’s saying that he asks “O God, raise me among the
needy” (iḥyanī miskīnan),6 to show his criticism and insistence on strict imita-
tion of the Prophetic ethics. In this way, ʿAndalīb insisted on explicating his
teachings as a path (ṭarīqa), viz., a method of gaining the pure mystical know-
ledge of the elder shaykhs. His claim regarding the paucity of any true masters,
by extension, denounced his contemporaries, and it was by composing his
work that ʿAndalīb sought to produce a source that could be consulted in the
absence of any qualified spiritual guides.
Second, naming the Islam that is represented in his mystical frame of
thought as dīn-​i Muḥammadī (“Muḥammad’s religion”) and calling its
followers Muḥammadīs, alongside the important role he accords to al-​Ḥasan,
underscores ʿAndalīb’s anti-​sectarianism. This thought was nourished from
a definition of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya from among earlier Sufis in
which al-​Wāṣitī identifies Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya as Islam.7 From this
perspective, ʿAndalīb’s Muḥammadiyya is absolute continuity with the early
Islamic tradition from a mystical outlook that encourages overcoming any
internal conflicts among Muslims in order to rebalance their collective situ-
ation, since he regards the hidden slogan of the path as reunion. The nos-
talgia concerning the early Muslim community as a pattern to be emulated
was intended to bring out their close brotherhood and intimate friendship.
Indeed, it can be argued that under its idealist insights, true God-​seeking
Muslims are identical with the early Muslims, who had sincere faith and
were true followers of Muḥammad, or in other words, they were Khāliṣ
Muḥammadīs. Therefore, he simultaneously uses this title to refer to
Muslims generally in an ideal sense and also to the followers of the Ṭarīqa-​
yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya, which for him is nothing but true Islam and an
explanation of the straight path (ṣirāṭ al-​mustaqīm). Under the pressure of
the religious policies of the Mughal Empire, and in the broader scene of
the Ṣafavids and the Ottoman Empire in sectarian disputes, this point
of view shows ʿAndalīb’s peaceful opinion that refuses takfīr, performed by
Sunnis and Shiʿa alike. Although he is a strong opponent of the innovations
of Shiʿism, he is like Shāh Walī Allāh in his desire to achieve an authentic
Islam in India. Thus, his thought must be separated from the contemporary
Wahhābī movement, who were known as anti-​Sufis and their notions inten-
sified division among Muslims.
Third, having a relationship and achieving intimacy with the Prophet
through two ways is the most important imperative in ʿAndalīb’s discourse
that emerged from analyzing the centralization of the Prophet Muḥammad’s
role in his thought. These two types of connection, with-​ness (maʿiyya) and
sameness (ʿayniyya) are related to Abū Bakr al-​Șiddīq and ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib
respectively. Reverence toward the spiritual positions of these two key fig-
ures goes beyond the debates surrounding succession after the Prophet and is
ʿAndalīb’s attempt to end the old sectarian and theological conflict between
Shiʿa and Sunni Muslims.
Epilogue  237
From another point of view, using the aforementioned terms to demon-
strate the Prophet’s relationship of with-​ness with God aimed at ending the
mystical debate and antagonism among Shuhūdīs and Wujūdīs, since the end
of the path is to achieve the station of with-​ness (maʿiyya), which is only
achievable by the prerequisite annihilation in and union with the spirit of
the Prophet. Thus, such a mystical function of the Prophet Muḥammad
is a response to sectarian as well as mystical matters in the spheres of the-
ology and cosmology, especially concerning the issue of unity and multipli-
city. ʿAndalīb did not ignore the significance of presenting the Prophet as
the perfect man and a mediator who has a special nearness to God, as the
lover of God, in his manner of expression and in this regard, he employed
the well-​known metaphors of light along with that of the seed of creation.
Yet in his mystical path, ʿAndalīb gives priority to sobriety and stands in
opposition to the intoxication and ecstatic Sufism of the Wujūdīs, which is
based on a relationship of sameness with God. At the same time, however,
the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya uses Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s terminology and some parts
of his mystical worldview, but such use is explicitly differentiated from that of
the Wujūdīs, who have been seen as misunderstanding Ibn al-​ʿArabī’s waḥdat
al-​wujūd and been accused in India of interpreting his thought according
to Vedic non-​dualistic teachings. But at the same time, he was also critical
toward the Shuhūdīs’ understanding of Sirhindī’s teachings, mainly the doc-
trine of waḥdat al-​shuhūd and belief in divine transcendence.
Both forms of the above-​mentioned two relationships, which each involve
sincere devotion to the Prophet Muḥammad, reduce tensions among Muslims
and turn the attention toward the Prophet’s role in eliminating controversies
between Sufis in mystical theology. From an ethical perspective, ʿAndalīb’s
path underscores knowing the prophetic example through ḥadīths and it
emphasizes emulation of the Prophet, which requires the purification of the
sunna from deviation and the elimination of false ḥadīths. Yet his path goes
even further than emulation, as it also aims at achieving spiritual annihila-
tion in the Prophet, in which the wayfarer passes away from his own qual-
ities and attributes and substitutes them for Muḥammad’s prophetic qualities
and attributes, since the prophetic ethics and religiosity are the most excellent
virtues.
Moreover, the Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya’s concern for worldly matters and
the suffering of the Muslim community of that time makes this path an activist
rather than a passive otherworldly Sufism. The path calls for tark-​i ḥikmī and
its approach is a comprehensive one that combines the world and spiritu-
ality. After abandoning worldly concerns and completing the ascending arc
(qaws al-​ʿurūj), the wayfarer on this path must then pay attention to worldly
affairs once more through the descending arc (qaws al-​nuzūl), which can be
understood as a return to the world after completing the first ascending arc.
Thus, this path links Sufis to their fellow citizens and is concerned with social
conditions. Accordingly, a major question one may ask is whether geograph-
ical setting had any important place in ʿAndalīb’s mind in terms of the scope
238  Epilogue
of applicability of his path, or if his thought was intended for all Muslims
regardless of location. This question can be answered as follows: although
ʿAndalīb’s ancestors were not originally from India, he reasserted the idea of
a sacred homeland to empower the Muslim residents of India in the face of
strong opposition from the Hindus. He maintains that India must remain an
Islamic land, because going all the way back to the fall of Adam, the friends of
God have never left it. To expound such an idea in a century that the Muslim
world was encountering non-​Muslim innovations and military threats, the
need to preserve Islam in this territory outside of Arabia must be highlighted.
Nevertheless, ʿAndalīb’s perspective, which strengthens the Islamic identity
of India, could also be generalized for other parts of the Muslim world.
Although his path advocated engagement in social life, he was inherently
more of a spiritual theoretician than a Sufi social activist. His way of thinking
demonstrates this since, as mentioned above, it was intended to offer per-
petual guidance for wayfarers rather than being a newly formed Sufi ṭarīqa
in the sense of an organized institution. With a lesser number of followers,
ʿAndalīb left no extended network of disciples behind in order to spread his
message. Indeed, he did not intend to bring innovation into Islam, even as a
Sufi master founding an order, and he avoided calling his path after his own
name. His aim in selecting the vehicle of a Sufi romance as the format through
which to present his teachings was totally different from the approaches of his
contemporaries and it demonstrates his desire to expand his target audience
to include those from all walks of life, ranging from the people of the bazaar
to disciples in khānaqāhs. Nevertheless, ʿAndalīb’s primary concern was not
being surrounded by disciples, rather, he wanted the influence of his teachings
to be exerted deeply upon all members of the Muslim community, since he
was a guide on the path of the Prophet and sought to present Islam directly
to the public. To what extent his thought was acceptable among other Sufi
masters, particularly the Naqshbandī Mujaddidīs in Delhi, is questionable,
since his mystical understanding of Islam along with his interests in music,
mystical dance and poetry might well have driven a deep wedge between him
and other sharīʿa-​minded Naqshbandī Mujaddidīs. His connection with other
Mujaddidī masters in Delhi is unclear due to the lack of reliable documents,
but the variety of their approaches must be considered in comparison with
his Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ Muḥammadiyya. Shāh Walī Allāh at the Madrasa-​yi
Raḥīmiyya captured the attention of intellectuals by translating the Qurʾān
into Persian, strongly emphasizing the study of ḥadīth, promoting ijtihād
and theorizing over political reform. Yet another major Mujaddidī shaykh in
Delhi, Maẓhar Jān-​i Jānān, attracted numerous disciples to his Khānaqāh-​i
Maẓhariyya, where he also interacted with Hindu scholars, displayed sym-
pathy toward Hinduism and even attracted many Hindus to his teachings,
some of whom came to be counted among his disciples. In sum, considering
ʿAndalīb alongside his contemporaries and the varieties of Mujaddidī-​based
thought, it is quite remarkable that the very same context of the religious
atmosphere of eighteenth-​century Delhi, along with the common Mujaddidī
Epilogue  239
identity and background at their core, could inspire such different discourses
and approaches.
An analytical approach to the study of key concepts in ʿAndalīb’s narrative
must elucidate his thought in its broader setting, something which we have
strived to achieve here. As we have seen, his teachings emerged under the
shaping force of such contextual factors as the decline of the Mughal Empire,
as a political failure of Muslims, and the conflicts among Muslims, from theo-
logical issues to matters in the fields of Sufism and jurisprudence, as internal
weak points in the face of non-​Muslims. This study finds that ʿAndalīb
expounded his path as an interiorized revisiting of Islam, with he himself
acting as the helper of religion (nāṣir al-​dīn). Although his thought emerged
from an interconnected network of intellectuals in that period and it was gen-
erally compatible with and supported the larger reformist trends, its unique
aspects are still considerable.
Of note, ʿAndalīb’s teachings must be understood in line with Ahmad
Dallal’s thesis that upholds the importance of regionalism and local education
among eighteenth-​century thinkers. From this perspective, the role of guiding
books signified more than traveling to the Ḥaramayn in order to obtain clas-
sical Islamic knowledge.8 However, the hypothesis cannot be rejected that
ʿAndalīb was under an indirect influence of his contemporaries’ connections
in Delhi with other intellectuals of the time, like Shāh Walī Allāh, who trav-
eled to Mecca and had a connection with a network of Muslim thinkers.
Nevertheless, reconstruction of the relationship between ʿAndalīb and other
adherents of the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya in different regions cannot be
built based on his own words and historical evidence. His network cannot
be reconstructed like what can be found among al-​Sānūsī, al-​Tījānī and Ibn
al-​Idrīs, who all had disciple-​master relationships. However, such strong simi-
larities during the same period do support the assumption that ʿAndalīb was
also a part of a tendency that propagated the Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya in
different approaches across the Islamic world. In this regard, the broad popu-
larity of some works in that age must be considered, namely, al-​Ibrīz, written
by Aḥmad b. al-​Mubārak al-​Lamaṭī (d.1156/​1743) and which spread ʿAbd
al-​ʿAzīz al-​Dabbāgh’s (d.1132/​ 1719) teachings, and al-​Ḥadīqa al-​nadiyya,
written by ʿAbd al-​Ghanī al-​Nāblusī (d.1143/​1731) and which was a commen-
tary on Muḥammad b. ʿAlī al-​Birgawī’s (d. 981/​1573) work entitled Ṭarīqat
al-​Muḥammadiyya.9
In conclusion, he and other early modern Muslim thinkers who invoked
the label of Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya contributed significantly to shaping
the future of Islam across the Muslim world, from India to Arabia and North
Africa, influencing Islamic movements that carried out anti-​colonial political
and military resistance against European powers, particularly in the nineteenth
century. Although ʿAndalīb’s contemporaries, as well as other exponents
of various Muḥammadan Paths of different places or times, have been the
subjects of many profound studies, the lack of research on him must not be
taken to mean that his influence, including even on the later Indian Ṭarīqa-​yi
240  Epilogue
Muḥammadiyya movement, can be underestimated. It can confidently be said
that Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb must receive a more proportionate degree of attention
in decoding the process of the shaping of eighteenth-​century Islamic thinking
and a new generation of studies is needed to address the different aspects of
the text from literary, mystical, and theological perspectives. This book, as
a study of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, hopes to serve as a step toward that end as well
as toward filling the dearth of research on ʿAndalīb and his Ṭarīqa-​yi Khāliṣ
Muḥammadiyya, yet it also contributes to wider efforts to critically examine
primary sources that are still little or completely unknown, but which can be
informative for studying the intellectual history of Islam.

Notes
1 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 7. In his eyes, the princes not only have to
learn the skillful management of state affairs, statesmanship and responsibility for
maintaining security and social order, but also at the same time, they must learn
wisdom and religion. See ibid., vol. 1, p. 24. His critique targets the Mughal kings
who were over-​engaged in the enjoyment of hunting and games. He asserts that the
real hunting is the hunting of corrupters, bandits, rebels, and infidels. See ibid., vol.
1, p. 186.
2 Therefore, a vizier, as a true friend of the king, is a wise companion, honest adviser
and teacher of the emperor, as the ḥadīth emphasizes, “Speak truth to power—​that
is the religion.” See ibid., vol. 2, pp. 337 and 390. See also vol. 1, p. 389.
3 As Schimmel notes, ʿAndalīb thinks that the practices in Yoga in comparison with
Sufi meditation do not have value because the Sufi practices get blessings from
their connection to the Prophet. Schimmel, Pain and Grace, p. 45. See ʿAndalīb,
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 1, p. 800. In this way, ʿAndalīb has a critical point of view
and prohibits Yogis’ extreme practices, because the ḥadīth support the principle of
moderation on the path which encourages equilibrium in everything from eating
and drinking to one’s style of clothing. See ibid., vol. 2, p. 585. His attention shows
the significance of regulating the body and controlling it with regard to the three
categories of food, drink and breathing according to the ḥadīth. See ibid., vol. 1,
p. 802.
4 ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol.2, p. 81.
5 Wright, Realizing Islam, p. 153.
6 Ibid., p.142.
7 See the role of al-​Wāsiṭī and the development of Ṭarīqa-​yi Muḥammadiyya in
Sedgwick, “Saints and Sons,” pp. 27 and 31. ʿAndalīb describes how the faqīr-​i
Muḥammadī does not care for identifying himself from others. He clarifies what
he has in mind by referring to different types of dress that the Sufis around him
wear. The way of dressing shows their desire to be distinguished from others, that
is from his perspective, their mistake and an innovation. In contrast, Muḥammadīs
wear the garment of piety in accordance with the Qurʾānic verse (7:26) on the path
of the Prophet’s faqr. See ʿAndalīb, Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb, vol. 2, pp. 386–​387. In more
detail, he explains different approaches that Sufis demonstrates in their appearance.
Some of them wear a four-​piece hat (kulāh chahār tarkī), deem four things neces-
sary: abandonment of physical pleasure, abandonment of sensual passion,
Epilogue  241
abandonment of worldly pleasure, and seeking pleasure only for the afterlife. Those
who wear a two-​piece hat (kulāh du tarkī) deem two things necessary: abandonment
of the world and abandonment of the afterlife. Sufis in the state of contraction
(qabḍ) wear dark clothes and cover the entire body. In the state of expansion (basṭ)
and relief, they wear loose clothes in lighter colors such as green or red. Those who
are pretentious paupers, since they chose to be in misery, wear clothes which do not
show dirt. Those who have achieved annihilation, wear a burial shroud. One group
wears the garb of the Qādiriyya, another group wears a towel. However, the faqīr-​i
Muḥammadī wears the biggest straw hat (kulāh kah-​kahī). Ibid.
8 Dallal, Islam without Europe, p. 59.
9 Sedgwick, “Saints and Sons,” pp. 31–​35. Sedgwick writes about “an unknown
connection” between ʿAndalīb and eighteenth-​ century adherents of Ṭarīqa-​yi
Muḥammadiyya like ʿAbd al-​Ghanī al-​Nāblusī and al-​Bakri. ibid., p. 44.

Bibliography
ʿAndalīb, Muḥammad Nāṣir. Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb. Bhopal: Maṭbaʿa-​yi Shāhjahānī, 1308/​
1890–​1310/​1892.
Dallal, Ahmad S. Islam without Europe Traditions of Reform in Eighteenth-​Century
Islamic Thought. Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North Carolina Press, 2018.
Schimmel, Annemarie. Pain and Grace: A Study of Two Mystical Writers of Eighteenth-​
Century Muslim India. Leiden: Brill, 1976.
Sedgwick, Mark J. Saints and Sons: the Making and Remaking of the Rashīdi Aḥmadi
Sufi Order, 1799–​2000. Leiden and Boston, MA: Brill, 2005.
Wright, Zachary Valentine. Realizing Islam: The Tijaniyya in North Africa and the
Eighteenth-​Century Muslim World. Chapel Hill, NC: The University of North
Carolina Press, 2020.
Appendices
Appendix 1: Summarized Table of
Contents of Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb

Volume 1
Prologue
Introduction
ʿArsh Āshiyān
Falak Qadr
Mihr Jahāngīr (the Bulbul)
At the Love-​Increasing Garden
At Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain
At the Court of Fayḍ Bakhsh, King of Iran
The Story of Farrukh Fāl
The Story of Shīr Zan-​i Āhū Shikār
The Story of Shāh Shujāʿ
The Story of Shāh Bā Kamāl’s Vizier
The Story of Bī Qayd-​i Shūrīda Ḥāl
The Story of One and a Half Worthy Friends
The Legend of Ḥusn and ʿIshq
The Legend of the Spell-​breaking Jewel

Volume 2
Journey of the Nightingale from Iran to Arabia
Getting Lost at Sea
Wandering in the Deserts of Arabia and Being Joined by
Companions
The Legend of the Dervish Ganj Asrār
About the Situation of the Rose in Hindustan
About Māh Munīr
Joining Māh Munīr to the Rose and his Companions
Conquering Shām
Arriving to Arabia and Not Finding the Rose There
Journey of the Nightingale from Arabia to Hindustan to Find the Rose
Describing the Way and its Hardships
Appendices  243
Arriving to Hindustan and Not Finding the Rose at the Mountain
Meeting Shāh-​i Shāhān Several Times
The Legend of Ghulām-​i Khākī
The Story of the Perfect Dervishes
The Story of the Imperfect Vizier
Continuation of the Meetings with Shāh-​i Shāhān
The Story of Sulṭān and Kanīz
Journey of the Nightingale from Hindustan to Arabia and Back
Building an Army, Returning to Hindustan, Staying at Shāh Ḥaq
Shinās’s Court and Proposing Marriage to the Crown‌Princess
(the Rose)

The Wedding of the Nightingale and the Rose


Journey of the Nightingale from Hindustan to Turan, Iran and Arabia
Describing the Circumstances of those Kingdoms and the
Situations of their Kings
Death of King Falak Qadr and Succession of the Nightingale
Death of King Sipihr Shukūh and Succession of Tājir-​i Kabīr
Return Journey of the Nightingale from Arabia, Iran and Turan to Hindustan

Giving the Caliphate of Arabia to Māh Munīr


Arriving in Iran and Becoming Aware of the Death of Māh
Munīr, Giving the Caliphate to Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr and Becoming
Aware of the Death of Fayḍ Rasān, King of Turan
Arriving in Turan and Becoming Aware of the Death of Amīr-​i
Bā Tadbīr, Giving the Caliphate to Tājir-​i Faqīr and Becoming
Aware of the Death of Fayḍ Bakhsh, King of Iran
Arriving in Iran and Becoming Aware of the Death of Tājir-​i
Faqīr, Giving the Caliphate to Bī Naẓīr and Becoming Aware of
the Death of Shāh Ḥaq Shinās
Bī Naẓīr Questioning the Rose on Realities
Bī Naẓīr Travels to Arabia, Accompanied by Khushbū and
Khushgū, the Sons of the Nightingale
The End of the Story of the Rose and the Nightingale
Bī Naẓīr
Khushbū
Khushgū
Epilogue
Appendix 2: Detailed Table of Contents of
Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb

Volume 1
Prologue
Introduction
King ʿArsh Āshiyān
ʿArsh Āshiyān meets an old woman making unpleasant remarks
about the king’s way of governing and complaining about injustice
and insecurity.
ʿArsh Āshiyān becomes sick and submits himself to God’s will.
ʿArsh Āshiyān beseeches his sons, Falak Qadr and Sipihr Shukūh, to
maintain their unity forever.
Falak Qadr rules Arabia and Sipihr Shukūh governs Rūm.
King Falak Qadr
King Falak Qadr tells his vizier about his desire to have a son.
The vizier chooses poverty and goes on a journey in order to find a
dervish and ask him to pray to God that the king be healed.
The vizier joins the disciples of the dervish Maẓhar Qadīr.
Mihr Jahāngīr, the king’s son, and Māh Munīr, the vizier’s son,
are born.
Sipihr Shukūh wishes to have a child and Bī Naẓīr is born.
The vizier educates the two boys.
The vizier abandons the world and rejoins the disciples of the dervish
Maẓhar Qadīr.
Mihr Jahāngīr (the Nightingale)
At the Love-​Increasing Garden
Mihr Jahāngīr hears about the zāhid’s daughter and their love
begins.
Meetings between Mihr Jahāngīr and the zāhid’s daughter.
First night: Māh Munīr and Mihr Jahāngīr conceal
themselves in the garden. The zāhid’s daughter’s heart
is pained by Mihr Jahāngīr’s pitiful sigh and Mihr
Jahāngīr faints due to the intensity of the beloved’s
manifestation.
Appendices  245
Second night: The zāhid comes to the Love-​Increasing
Garden without his daughter and expresses impatience
with her and Mihr Jahāngīr
Third night: Mihr Jahāngīr and the zāhid’s daughter
meet again. Māh Munīr devises a method to allow
Mihr Jahāngīr to visit the beloved without being
overwhelmed. They arrange their next meeting at
Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain.
At Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain
Hardships and difficulties along the way
Mihr Jahāngīr and the zāhid’s daughter meet again under the lote tree
The zāhid’s curse and transformation into a nightingale and a rose.
Māh Munīr goes on a journey to find the spell-​breaking jewel.
Tājir-​i Jahān Gard gives the rose as a gift to Fayḍ Bakhsh, the King
of Iran.
Mihr Jahāngīr, as the nightingale, becomes restless from being
separated from the rose and after a long time, he finds her at Fayḍ
Bakhsh’s court.
In King Fayḍ Bakhsh’s Court, Iran
King Fayḍ Bakhsh and his queen realize the true identities of the rose
and the nightingale.
They try to find a solution for them and ask Fayḍ Rasān, King of
Turan, to bring the spell-​breaking jewel.
They break the curse and the rose and the nightingale are transformed
once more into human form.
The rose and the nightingale are married.
The nightingale marries Nasrīn, Fayḍ Rasān’s daughter, and Nastaran,
Fayḍ Bakhsh’s daughter. Khushbū and Khushgū are born.
The nightingale tells the story of Farrukh Fāl.
Criticism of the extravagance of Farrukh Fāl, the son of the
King of Hindustan, for hunting to excess in the Deccan
Shāh Shujāʿ, King of the Deccan, tells the story of
Shīr Zan-​i Āhū Shikār to Farrukh Fāl.
The love story of Ṭahūr Bayk and Dil Rubā.
Ṭahūr Bayk goes on a journey to earn money,
thus Dil Rubā is separated from her lover.
The gazelle falls in love with Dil Rubā.
The gazelle tells a herd of deer about the
knowledge he acquired from this love.
Ṭahūr Bayk returns home and is suspicious
about the relationship between the gazelle and
Dil Rubā.
Ṭahūr Bayk kills the gazelle. Dil Rubā dies and
Ṭahūr Bayk commits suicide.
The story of Farrukh Fāl’s love for a Hindu girl.
246  Appendices
Farrukh Fāl falls in love with a Hindu girl and escapes with
her to Hindustan. Her tribe rebels in protest of this injustice
toward a peasant.
Shāh Shujāʿ attacks Hindustan three times for arresting
Farrukh Fāl and the Hindu girl.
Shāh Shujāʿ replaces his vizier and renounces the kingdom to
find and arrest Farrukh Fāl. He disguises himself as a mer-
chant and travels to Hindustan.
Shāh Shujāʿ’s vizier betrays him and seizes control. Shāh Shujāʿ
tries to regain control.
Shāh Shujāʿ returns the Hindu girl to her tribe. The Hindu girl
criticizes her tribe’s religion so they return her to Shāh Shujāʿ’s
court. She converts to the Muḥammadan Path and finally is
married to Farrukh Fāl.
The nightingale tells the story of Shāh Shujāʿ to two kings.
Shāh Shujāʿ disguises himself as a merchant who calls himself Tājir-​i
Ṣādiq and travels to the court of Shāh Bā Kamāl, Farrukh Fāl’s father,
in Hindustan in order to find an honest companion, a sincere vizier,
a qualified doctor and to discover the meaning of the proverb: “be
a harlot, but a perfect person.” The king discusses different subjects.
The story of Shāh Bā Kamāl’s vizier, Namak Ḥalāl.
The story of the burglary at Shāh Bā Kamāl’s castle.
The story of his conquering Nāhir Sanga castle and Namak
Ḥalāl’s discussion with its raja about religious and ideological
issues.
The story of Bīqayd-​i Shūrīda-​i Ḥāl, in criticism of the
raja’s religion
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq tells the story of “One and a half worthy friends,”
in criticism of Namak Ḥalāl.
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq recognizes the true character of Ḥakīm-​i Masīḥ
Khiṣāl.
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq tests Shāh Bā Kamāl in different ways to assess his
truth in friendship.
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq’s position at Shāh Bā Kamāl’s court
The birth of prince Ṣāḥib Jamāl, Shāh Bā Kamāl’s son
How Tājir-​i Ṣādiq manages the court, etc.
They go to hunt but Shāh Bā Kamāl is injured. Tājir-​i Ṣādiq
heals him by way of a strange prescription.
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq tells Farrukh Fāl about profound knowledge.
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq discovers the meaning of the proverb “be a harlot
but a perfect person.”
Farrukh Fāl and his father, Shāh Bā Kamāl, meet again.
Farrukh Fāl introduces Tājir-​i Ṣādiq as Shāh Shujāʿ, the King
of the Deccan. Description of Shāh Shujāʿ’s management of
the kingdom.
Appendices  247
The adventure of Bakhshī Raʾīs al-​Rijāl.
The adventure of Ghalʿa Dār Khān.
Shāh Shujāʿ marries the harlot.
The position of Shāh Shujāʿ’s first wife, in the face of the harlot.
Death of Shāh Bā Kamāl and his succession by Shāh Shujāʿ,
after him Farrukh Fāl, and then Ṣāḥib Jamāl.
The nightingale tells the legend of Ḥusn and ʿIshq to the kings.
The legend of the goldsmith, Zargar-​i ʿAql.
The adventure of the white elephant which Zargar-​i ʿAql made
for Shāh Shaydā, the King of Turan
The adventure of Zar Giriftār, who had a hidden relationship
with Zargar-​i ʿAql’s wife. Zar Giriftār tries to discover Zargar-​i
ʿAql’s secret and learn about his theft of the material he used
to make the white elephant. Zargar-​i ʿAql’s wife betrays him.
Zargar-​i ʿAql marries his second wife, Ṭabʿ-​i Salīm and ʿIshq
is born.
Arjumand Shāh, the King of Iran, attacks Turan in order to
acquire the white elephant.
The story of ʿIshq, the goldsmith’s son
ʿIshq falls in love with Ḥusn, the daughter of Arjumand Shāh.
Ḥusn’s mother asks Shāh Shaydā to marry Ḥusn and send her
picture to him. Shāh Shaydā falls in love with the picture of
Ḥusn. He fights with ʿIshq because of Ḥusn. Ḥusn and ʿIshq
escape to Shām. Shāh Shaydā abandons his kingdom and goes
on a journey to find Ḥusn.
Ḥusn and ʿIshq change their names in Shām. Wāla Shāh, the
King of Shām falls in love with Ḥusn. Consequently, Ḥusn and
ʿIshq try to run away. They drown at sea. Wāla Shāh gives up
his kingdom and goes to find Ḥusn.
The two kings, Shāh Shaydā and Wāla Shāh, encounter each
other. Then, they find and serve ʿIshq. A merchant informs
them about the place of Ḥusn in Hindustan and they then
travel there to find her. Eventually, they are annihilated in love.
King Fayḍ Rasān tells the legend of the spell-​breaking jewel (shāh muhra) to
the nightingale.
Khujasta Shamīm, the King of Iran, falls in love when he sees the pic-
ture of Buland Himam, the King of Turan.
On one hand, Buland Himam renounces his kingdom in order to travel
in the world as a faqīr. On the other hand, Khujasta Shamīm gives up
his kingdom in order to visit Buland Himam in Turan. However, when
he arrives, he finds that Buland Himam is not there. Thus, he becomes
disappointed and travels to Mecca and joins Shāh ʿĀrif’s circle of
disciples.
The circumstances of the realms of these two kings after they leave
their kingdoms.
248  Appendices
Shāh ʿĀrif inculcates into Buland Himam’s heart the desire to travel
to Mecca.
Twelve private sessions take place between Shāh ʿĀrif and Khujasta
Shamīm and Buland Himam.
First: in criticism of wisdom and philosophy.
Second: in criticism of alchemy.
Third: in criticism of Islamic sects.
Fourth: in criticism of Sufism.
Fifth: in criticism of Yogis.
Sixth: in expressing determinism and authority (jabr wa
ikhtiyār).
Seventh: about the bridge over hell (ṣirāṭ).
Eighth: about the balance of deeds (mīzān).
Ninth: about seeing God in the afterlife.
Tenth: about jihād-​i akbar and jihād-​i aṣghar.
Eleventh: about the beliefs of the seventy-​four sects of the
Muḥammadī religion.
Twelfth: about sama’, the annihilation of Shāh ʿĀrif and his
finding the spell-​breaking jewel.

Volume 2
Journey of the nightingale from Iran to Arabia in order to visit his father,
Falak Qadr
The nightingale gets lost at sea.
He wanders in the deserts of Arabia.
The companions join the nightingale.
Bī Nazīr joins the nightingale.
The legend of the dervish Ganj Asrār
Performance of the magician
The magician and the dervish Ganj Asrār
The king and the dervish Ganj Asrār
Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr joins the nightingale
Tājir-​i Ghanī joins the nightingale
Tājir-​i Kabīr and his ten companions join the nightingale.
The 40 companions join the nightingale.
The 310 companions join the nightingale.
The circles of the nightingale’s companions
After losing the nightingale, the rose nearly drowns herself at sea. She
is rescued by a ship and is taken to Hindustan. She takes refuge on the
mountain.
Māh Munīr, who travels to find the spell-​breaking jewel, comes
to Hindustan and finds the rose on the mountain. He goes
again on a journey to find the nightingale.
Appendices  249
Shāh Ḥaq Shinās visits the rose and appoints her as his crown
princess. Then, she is known as Shāh-​i Shāhān and Shāh-​i
Ghayb, etc. She sends some couriers to find the nightingale.
Māh Munīr goes to find the nightingale, but on the way, he falls in love
with Mushtarī, the daughter of Nāhīd Sāh, the Queen of Sabā.
Mushtarī wants to accompany Māh Munīr on his journey.
They arrive in Shām. The King of Shām, Shāh-​i Tājdār falls
in love with Mushtarī. Mushtarī tries to run away but nearly
drowns at sea.
She is saved by ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn.
Māh Munīr also nearly drowns at sea but is saved and encounters the
nightingale and his companions.
They defeat Shāh-​i Tajdār, the King of Shām.
ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn comes to the nightingale’s court with Mushtarī.
Mushtarī rejoins Māh Munīr.
The nightingale assigns ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn to be the ruler of Shām.
Then, he continues with his companions to journey to Arabia
When they arrive in Arabia, the nightingale finds that the rose is not
there. Māh Munīr informs him that the rose is in Hindustan. So, they
go to Hindustan.
Journey of the nightingale from Arabia to Hindustan in order to find the rose
Hardships on the journey and the circumstances of the circles of the
nightingale’s companions
They arrive in Hindustan and do not find the rose on the mountain.
The nightingale meets Shāh-​i Shāhān several times.
The first meeting, he goes to Shāh-​i Shāhān’s court with all of
his companions and Shāh-​i Shāhān gives them special robes
of honor.
The second meeting, he goes there alone.
The third meeting, he again goes alone.
The fourth meeting, he goes and receives a king’s robe of honor.
The fifth meeting, he goes with Māh Munīr, whom Shāh-​i
Shāhān gives the carpet of happiness.
The sixth meeting, he goes with Bī Nazīr, whom Shāh-​i Shāhān
gives a lord’s green robe of honor and a vicariate ring.
The seventh meeting, he goes with Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr, whom
Shāh-​i Shāhān gives a patchwork robe of honor and an
inlaid belt.
The eighth meeting, he goes with Tājir-​i Faqīr, whom Shāh-​i
Shāhān gives a colored robe of honor and an inlaid dirk.
The ninth meeting, he goes again with Māh Munīr, whom
Shāh-​i Shāhān gives pearls and jewels.
The tenth meeting, he goes alone and tells her his story.
The eleventh meeting, he goes alone and receives a special
dinner.
250  Appendices
The twelfth meeting, the nightingale tells Shāh-​i Shāhān the
legend of Ghulām-​i Khākī.
Malik al-​Jān, the King of Jannat Naẓīr Island, finds a
strange pearl. He sees the manifestation of Shāh-​i Jinn
wa Ins in this pearl.
Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins is obliged to Ghulām-​i Khākī and
gives him a special position at his court.
Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins manifests himself in a dream to
Ghulām-​i Khākī and Ghulām-​i Khākī falls in love
with him.
Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn speaks with Ghulām-​i Khākī.
Ḥakīm Dhu’l-​Funūn tells the story of the harmful
foolish friend and the beneficial wise enemy.
After being deceived by a woman, Ghulām-​i Khākī
incurs the wrath of Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins and is deported
to Hindustan.
Four birds accompany Ghulām-​i Khākī.
The situation of Ghulām-​i Khākī in Hindustan. Many
people gather around him to hear about his knowledge.
Ghulām-​i Khākī tells the story of the perfect
dervishes for his followers.
Ghulām-​i Khākī speaks with Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn.
Ghulām-​i Khākī tells the story of a vizier for
Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn.
Ghulām-​i Khākī travels to find Jannat Naẓīr Island,
passing through seven seas and four valleys.
The first valley: starvation and drought.
The second valley: pain and agony.
The third valley: disaster and hardship.
The fourth valley: fear and panic.
Ghulām-​i Khākī arrives at Jannat Naẓīr Island. Shāh-​i
Jinn wa Ins manifests himself to him.
Ghulām-​i Khākī is granted permission to meet Shāh-​i
Jinn wa Ins (ascending arc).
He returns to the world (descending arc).
Continuation of the meetings with Shāh-​i Shāhān.
The first meeting: the manifestation of Shāh-​i Shāhān as the
rose to the nightingale.
The second meeting: questions and answers are exchanged
between them with Maḥram-​i Ḥāl as the mediator.
Shāh-​i Shāhān examines the nightingale and his companions but she
becomes angry with them because of their reaction. Shāh Ḥaq Shinās
intercedes for them and Shāh-​i Shāhān forgives them and accepts the
repentance of the nightingale.
Continuation of the meetings after that event.
Appendices  251
The first meeting: Shāh-​i Shāhān tells the story of the rose to
the nightingale.
The second meeting: the nightingale receives a vision and is
forbidden by Shāh-​i Shāhān to speak of it to others.
Shāh-​i Shāhān tells the story of Sulṭān and Kanīz.
The third meeting: the nightingale goes to Shāh-​i Shāhān’s
court with Mushtarī.
Beginning of the seven-​part revelation to the nightingale by Hamdam-​
i Qāl.
The nightingale again meets Shāh-​i Shāhān and asks her for per-
manent union (ascending arc).
Shāh-​i Shāhān orders the nightingale to travel to Arabia, gather an
army, conquer the realms and get married to the crown princess,
daughter of Shāh Ḥaq Shinās (descending arc).
Journey of the nightingale, from Hindustan to Arabia and back.
The nightingale assembles an army, returns to Hindustan, occupies
Shāh Ḥaq Shinās’ court, proposes to the crown‌princess and finds that
she is in fact the rose.
Wedding of the nightingale and the rose.
Wedding of Māh Munīr and Mushtarī.
Journey of the nightingale from Hindustan to Turan, Iran and Arabia.
Description of the circumstances of those realms and the situations
of their kings.
Death of King Falak Qadr and succession of the nightingale.Death of
King Sipihr Shukūh and succession of Tājir-​i Kabīr.
Return journey of the nightingale from Arabia, Iran and Turan to Hindustan.
The nightingale gives the Caliphate of Arabia to Māh Munīr.
He arrives in Iran, becomes aware of the death of Māh Munīr, gives
the Caliphate to Amīr-​i Bā-​Tadbīr and becomes aware of the death of
Shāh Fayḍ Risān, the King of Turan.
He arrives in Turan, becomes aware of the death of Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr,
gives the Caliphate to Tājir-​i Faqīr and becomes aware of the death of
Shāh Fiyḍ Bakhsh, the King of Iran.
He arrives in Iran, becomes aware of the death of Tājir-​i Faqīr, gives
the Caliphate to Bī Nazīr and becomes aware of the death of Shāh
Ḥaq Shinās.
Bī Nazīr asks the rose about real knowledge and secrets.
Bī Nazīr travels to Arabia accompanied by Khushbū and Khushgū,
the sons of the nightingale.
The end of the story of the nightingale and the rose
Bī Nazīr
Khushbū
Khushgū
Epilogue
Index

Note: Figures are indicated by italics. Tables are indicated by bold.

Aaron 138 ahl al-​talwīn (possessors of the state of


abābīl 104 changing, people of coloring) 170–​171
ʿAbd al-​ʿAzīz 12 ahl al-​tamkīn (people of establishing, or
ʿAbd al-​Salām collection 13 the possessors of the state of stability)
Abdālī, Aḥmad Shāh 129, 188 170–​171
ʿabduhu 159 ahl al-​taskīn (people of quieting, or the
ʿAbhar al-​ʿāshiqīn 104 possessors of the state of quieting)
ʿĀbid-​i Gūsha Nishīn 56, 92–​93, 100, 249 170
ʿĀbidī, Sayyid Wazīr al-​Ḥasan 49 ahl-​i ʿaql (rationalists) 10
Abraham 157, 167 ahl-​i bāṭin (people of inward meaning)
Abu al-​Khayr, Abū Saʿīd 55, 58, 153 10
Abū Bakr 138–​140, 149–​150, 160–​162, 236 Ahl-​i Dil 56, 89
Ādāb al-​ṣufiyya 111 ahl-​i ḥadīth (the people of ḥadīth) 10
ādāb-​i safar (proper etiquette on the Sufi ahl-​i ḥaqq (people of truth) 10
journey) 111 ahl-​i ẓāhir (people of outward meaning) 10
ʿadam (nonexistence) 153, 157, 172 Aḥmad 135, 143
Adam: prophet 108, 111, 153, 157; Aḥmad Shāh 129
in Qurʾān 164; narration 180–​185; aḥsan al-​qaṣaṣ (the best of stories) 54
India 187–​189 aḥwāl (states) 184
Ādamī mashrab 184 ʿĀʾisha bint Abū Bakr 139
ʿĀdil Shāhī rulers 129 ajān 107
Advaita 173–​174 ajsād (bodies) 169
āfāq (horizions) 156 Akbar (Emperor) 55, 153, 168
afḍaliyya (superiority) 162 akhaṣṣ al-​khawāṣṣ (the select of the
afsāna-​yi jānāna (legend of the darling selected men) 158, 162
sweet heart) 54 Alam 1; see Alam, Muzaffar
Aḥad 135 Aʿlam 111
Aḥadī Purā 42 ʿālam al-​ajsād (world of bodies) 182
aḥadiyya 169 ʿālam al-​arwāḥ (world of sprits) 182
aḥkām al-​sharīʿa (religious laws) 179 ʿālam al-​ghayb (unseen realm) 50, 157
ahl al-​ʿadl (people of justice) 141 ʿālam al-​mithāl (imaginal realm) 159
ahl al-​bayt (Prophet’s household) 44, ʿālam al-​suflā ( the lowest world) 182
131, 134, 140, 165 ʿĀlam II (Emperor) 129
ahl al-​kisā (people of the mantle) 131 Alam (Khwāja Ṣāḥib Mīr) 42; See Mīr
ahl al-​qulūb (pious people) 109 Alam
ahl al-​sunna wa’l-​jamāʿa (people of the Alam, Muzaffar 7, 53–​54, 60
sunna and the community) 22, ʿAlamdār 102, 133
140–​141, 167 ʿAlavī 7
Index  253
ʿAlī 144, 161; See ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib aw adnā (or even nearer) 135
ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib: heir of ʿAlī 38, 143; Bī Awadh 12, 188
Naẓīr 109; ʿAndalīb’s vision 131–​132; awām kaʾl-​anʿām (animal-​like humans)
wilāya 145; connection to the Prophet 171
149–​150, 160; sameness 236 ʿawāmm (common people) 162
ʿAlī Ibrāhīm Khān Khalīl 36, 53 ʿAwārif al-​ma‘ārif 59
Ali, Athar 7 awliyāʾ 2, 138
al-​Ibrīz 239 aʿyān (entities) 4
Aligarh Muslim University 13 aʿyān al-​thābita (fixed entities) 157
ʿālim-​Sufi 12 ʿayn al-​yaqīn (vision of certainty) 3,
Alvi, Sajida S. 150 114–​115, 159
Amīr-​i Bā Tadbīr: 56; the nightingale’s ʿayniyya (apparent kinship) 162
companion 91; Shāh-​i Shāhān 94; ʿayniyya (sameness): connection with
successor of the nightingale100–​101; the Prophet 22, 149, 165; a mystical
appendix 243, 248–​249, 251 theory 160; kinship162; scholarly
Amthāl (examples) 103 connection 164; Shuhūdī perspective
And Muhammad Is His Messenger: The 168, 170; with God 172, 174, 235;
Veneration of the Prophet in Islamic ʿAlī 236
Piety 150 az sirr-​i tahqiq na az sirr-​i taqlid 11
ʿAndalībiyya 135 Azrael 138
Anjum, Tanvir 54
ʿanqāʾ 107 Bāghcha Mīr Dard 46
anṣār 137, 140 Baghdādī, Junayd 10, 171
Anṣārī, ʿAbd Allāh 55, 113 Bāgh-​i ʿIshq Afzā (Love-​Increasing
ʿaqd al-​ukhuwwat (a contract of Garden) 79, 94, 100, 106, 114;
association and brotherhood) 80 appendix 242, 244–​245
aqdamiyya (precedence) 162 Bāgh-​i Rāḥat Afzā (Rest-​Giving Garden)
ʿaql (intelligence) 152 94
ʿaql al-​awwal (first intellect) 152 Bahāʾ al-​Dīn Naqshband 1, 36–​38, 40
ʿaql rubā (stealing one’s intellect) 63 Bahāʾ Walad 55
ʿAql-​i surkh 104 Bahādur Shāh 38, 44, 49, 130, 149
ʿārif 235 Baḥr al-​Qulzum (Red Sea) 135
Aristotle 46 Bākharzī, Ṣayf al-​Dīn 111
Arjumand Shāh 56 Bakrī 161
ʿArsh Āshiyān 55–​56, 78, 81, 153; Bangālī, ʿIzzat Allāh 54
appendix 242, 244 Banī Faṭima 38
arwāḥ (sprits)169 baqāʾ (subsistence) 113–​115
Ārzū, Sirāj al-​Dīn ʿAlī Khān 36, 42, 46, 53 baqāʾ biʾllāh (subsistence with God)
Āṣaf Jāh, Niẓām al-​Mulk 39 158
ʿĀṣaf Jāhī rulers 129 Bāqī Biʾllāh 3
asfār al-​arbaʿa (four journeys) 112 Baqlī, Rūzbihān 104–​107, 152
aṣḥāb al-​ʿaql (people of reason) 169 bar ḥaqq (true) 140
aṣḥāb al-​nār (people of the fire) 169 baraka (hidden divine blessing) 50
aṣḥāb al-​nūr (people of light) 169 Barātī Begum 38
ʿāshiq (lover) 109 Bārha family, 38
ʿāshiq-​i zār (miserable lover) 111 Bārha Sayyids 44; see Sayyids of Bārha;
aṣl (principle) 163 Sayyid brothers
aslam (the safest) 140 Barzakh 156
Athar (result, pen name) 45 Baṣar (Seeing) 157
ʿAṭṭār, Farīd al-​Dīn 58, 104, 112 baṣīra (sense of sight) 96; (intuition)
Aurangzeb: al-​Sirhindī’s influence 3, 37; 152
death 7, 53, 231; his descendants 38, Baṣrī, Ḥasan 110
46, 131, 149; Sunni tendency 129, 173, basṭ (expansion) 159, 170
233 Bastī Mīr Dard 46
254 Index
Battle of Karnāl 39 Chishtiyya 4, 12, 38
Battle of Plassey 7 Chitrāwalī 54
Bayly, C.A. 7 Chittick 3–​4
bayt 13 Christianity 104
Bengal 188 Christians 143
Bhakti devotionalism 173 Consciousness-​Snatcher Mountain 80,
Bhopal 13, 14 100, 107, 114; appendix 242, 245
Bī Naẓīr: meaning 56; Mihr Jahāngīr’s Cosmic Tree 153, 162
companion 79, 81, 89, 91; marriage crane 96, 183
93; Shāh-​i Shāhān 94; the nightingale’s crow 104
vicegerent 100–​101; ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib
109, 132, 163; appendix 243, 248–​249, Dabbāgh, ʿAbd al-​ʿAzīz 239
251 Dahriyya (pagans) 173, 179
Bī Qayd-​i Shūrīda Ḥāl 56, 84, 242, 246 Dallal, Ahmad 8–​9, 12, 239
Bible 104 Damgh al-​bāṭil 6
bidʿa (heretical innovative practice) 142, Dandānīs 137
173 dār al-​ḥarb (abode of war) 173
Bīdār-​Dil 45, 50, 57 dār al-​Islam (abode of Islam) 173
Bīdil (disheartened lover) 111 dār al-​khilāfa (abode of vicegerency) 187
Bīdil Dihlawī, ʿAbd al-​Qādir 42–​43, 49, Dārā Shukūh 6, 55, 171, 173
53–​54, 57, 233 Dargah Quli Khan 40
Bijāpūr 129 dāstān (fable or tale) 54, 60
Bilgrāmī, Ᾱzād 55, 185 dast-​i ghayb (unseen helpful hand) 88
Bilgrāmī,ʿAbd al-​Jalīl 55, 130 David 104, 138, 157–​158
bīmār-​i maḥabbat (one who is love-​sick) Dāwūdī mihrab 167
177 Deobandī School 12
Birgawī, Muḥammad b. ʿAlī 239 dhāt (essence) 152, 157, 162
Bīrūnī, Abū Rayḥān 6 dhikr 9, 42
Bisṭāmī, Bāyazīd 40, 112 dhikr al-​jahrī (vocalized recollection) 170
Brown, Daniel W. 150 dhikr al-​khafī (silent rememberance of
Bū ʿAlī 137 God) 161, 171
Bū Bū (Fragrance, Fragrance) 106 dhū al-​ʿaqlī (possessors of reason) 169
Buehler 11 dhū al-​ʿaynī (possessing two eyes) 169
Buehler, Arthur 136, 176 Dhū’l-​Fiqār Khān 38
Bukhārā 36 Dihlawī, Amīr Khusraw 41, 54, 185
Bukhārī al-​Kalābādhī, Abū Bakr Dihlawī,ʿAbd al-​Ḥaqq 10
Muḥammad 166 Dil Rubā 245
bukkāʾ (weeper) 110–​111 dil zinda wa ṣūrat murda 157
bukkāʾūn (constant weepers) 110–​111 dīn-​i ilāhī (divine monotheism) 168
Buland Himam 56, 87, 89 dīn-​i khāliṣ 144
Burhanpur 42 dīn-​i Muḥammadī 144, 236
Dīwān 6
Ceylon 185 Dīwān-​i ʿAndalīb 49
Chahār risāla 36, 45 Dīwān-​i Khāqānī Shirwānī 104
Chandāyan 54 dove 104
Chander Shekhar 40 duhās 57
Chaurasia 130–​131 dunbakīs 137
Chedvik, Charles 104
Chetan Singh 7 Egypt 8
Chilan ka kuch 41 Eighteenth Century in India 7
Chirāgh-​i Dihlawī 130 Eliade, Mircea 104
Chirāgh-​i Hidāyat 36, 45 El-​Rouayheb, Khaled 9
Chishtī 2, 54, 153 Ernst, Carl W. 104, 107, 185
Index  255
Esposito 8 Gawhar Iftikhār 93
Eternal Reality 156 Gawhar Shāhwār 93
Gazelle 56, 82–​83, 245
fadawiyya (devotion) 162 Ghafūr (divine name) 152
fāʿil al-​nahār (light producer) 152 Ghāliyya 179
Falak Qadr 56, 79, 81, 242–​244 gham zudā (wiping off one’s gloom) 63
appendix 248, 251 Ghata Masjid 45
falcon 96, 104, 183 ghawth 163, 141
fālnāma (book of omen) 58 ghazal 57
fanāʾ (annihilation) 113, 162 Ghazālī, Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad 10,
fanāʾ fīʾllāh (annihilation in God) 158 104
fanāʾ fīʾl-​Rasūl (annihilation in the Ghazālī, Aḥmad 55
Prophet) 158, 160 Ghijduwānī, ʿAbd al-​Khāliq 40
fanāʾ fīʾl-​shaykh (annihilation in shaykh) Ghulām-​i Khākī: meaning 56; legend
158 95–​97, 181–​182, 184; India 186,
faqīr (pauper): ʿAndalīb 135; Khāliṣ 188–​189; appendix 243, 250; see Khākī
Muḥammadī’s state 171, 175, 235; Gīsū-​Darāz, Bandi Nawāz 4
spiritual status 87, 145, 178 Gloton 154
faqīr khāna (a dervish monastery, or a Gospel 158
house for paupers) 50, 175 Greek 179
faqr (spiritual poverty) 107, 145, 178 Gul-​i Bakāwalī 54
faqr-​i Muḥammadī 145, 235 Gul-​i Khushbū (Fragrant Flower) 106
farʿ (subsidiary) 163 gulshan (penname) 42
farq baʿd al-​jamʿ (separation after union) Gulshan, Saʿd Allāh: Sufi path and
115 poetry 41–​43, 45–​46; influence 49, 53;
Farqānī, Saʿīd al-​Dīn 4 ecstatic Sufi way 233–​234
Farrukh Fāl 81–​86, 242, 245–​247 Gunguhī, ʿAbd al-​Quddūs 2
Farrukh Siyar 38, 44, 130 gūsha-​nishīnī (seclusion) 159
Fatāwā (decrees) 180
fatḥ (illumination) 9 ḥabb (seed) 154–​155
Fatḥ Allāh Khān 37–​38 Hādī (divine name) 152
Fatḥ al-​raḥmān 5 ḥādī (guide) 185
Fātiḥ pūrī, ʿAbd al-​Ḥaqq 20, 51 Ḥadīqa al-​nadiyya 239
Fāṭima 130, 139, 144 Ḥāfiẓ, Shams al-​Dīn Muḥammad 57–​58
Fatima 38, 93 haft iqlīm (seven climes) 182
fatwā (decree) 129, 180 Ḥakīm Dhūʾl-​Funūn 56, 95–​97, 181,
Fayḍ Bakhsh 56, 89, 100; appendix 184
242–​243, 245 ḥakīm mashrab 169
Fayḍ Rasān 56, 87–​89, 100; appendix Ḥakīm-​i Masīḥ Khiṣāl 56, 84, 246
243, 245, 247 hālik (perishing) 140
Fayṣala-​yi waḥdat al-​wujūd wa al-​shuhūd Hallāj 152, 154
5, 168 Ḥallājiyya 167
fi’l-​Ḥaqq bi’l-​Ḥaqq (in Truth with the hama az ūst (all is from him) 168
Truth) 112 hama ūst (all is he) 168
fiqh 12, 179–​180 Hamadānī, Ghulām Muṣḥafī 36
firāq (separation) 156 Hamdam-​i Qāl 56, 94, 98–​99, 243, 251
Firāq, Nāṣir Nadhīr 36, 42, 45, 49 Ḥamza-​nāma 54
fisād al-​zamān 43, 141 Ḥanafī 180
Fuṣuṣ al-​ḥikam 2, 42, 59 Ḥanafiyya 180
Futūhāt al-​Makkiyya 2, 59, 147, 154 Ḥanbaliyya 180
ḥaqīqa 115
Gabriel 138 Ḥaqīqat al-​Ḥaqāyiq (Reality of Realities)
Ganj Asrār 89, 242, 248 132, 154–​156, 169
256 Index
Ḥaqīqat al-​Muḥammadiyya Ḥujjat Allāh Naqshband, Muḥammad
(Muḥammadan Reality) 154–​155, 157, 43
184–​185 Hujwīrī 133
Ḥaqīqat al-​Muḥammadiyya (Reality of Ḥulūliyya 167
Muḥammad) 2, 132, 151, 154, 184 Ḥusayn ʿAlī Khān 130
ḥaqīqī (essential)174 Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī 109, 130, 132, 134, 147,
Ḥaqīqiyya 167 160
Ḥaqq 59 Ḥusayn of India 130
ḥaqq al-​yaqīn (truth of certainty) 3, Ḥusaynī sayyid 38, 44, 135
114–​115, 159 hūsh afzā (sublimation of the mind)
Ḥaqqāniyya 5 62–​63
Ḥaramayn 239 ḥusn (beauty) 109–​110, 133
Ḥasan al-​ʿAskarī 36, 145–​147 Ḥusn (The Legend) 56, 81, 86–​87, 242,
Ḥasan b. ʿAlī: 39–​40, 42; Khushbū 109; 247
visión 131–​135; Mahdī 146–​149; ḥusn-​i khulq (temperament of goodness)
ʿayniyya 160; spiritual connection to 133, 148
the Prophet 175; faqr 235 Huwa al-​Nāṣir (He is the one who gives
Ḥasanābād 130 victory) 20, 47, 143
Ḥasanayn 132, 145, 147 ḥuzn (grief) 109–​110
Hasht bihisht 185
hātif (secret voice) 48 Ibāḥiyya 179
Ḥātim-​nāma 54 Iblīs 184
ḥawṣala wa istiʿdād 139 Ibn al-​ʿArabī: India 2, 3; reaction and
Ḥayāt (Living) 157–​158 understanding 4; eighteenth century
Hayūlā 154; see Maddat al-​uwlā Sufism 9; Bīdil 43; influence on
Ḥayy b. Yaqẓān 112 ʿAndalīb 58, 59; mystical journeys
Heirs of the Prophet: Charisma and 113; sainthood 138, 141; Muḥammadī
Religious Authority in Shiʿite Islam 145, 147, 148; Light of Muḥammad
159 151, 152; cosmic tree 153–​154; perfect
Henderson, Joseph L. 104 man 156–​157; annihilation 158; hama
Hidāyat, Hidāyat Allāh Khān 36, 41, ūst 168–​169; muflis 171; Sufism 233,
45–​46, 48 237
Ḥikma al-​mutaʿāliyya fī’l-​asfār Ibn al-​ʿArabian concept 157
al-​ʿaqliyya al-​arbaʿa 113 Ibn al-​ʿArabian thought 43
ḥikmat al-​ishrāq (illuminationist Ibn al-​Fanārī 156
philosophy) 152 Ibn al-​Fāriḍ 4
ḥilm (forbearance) 183 Ibn al-​Idrīs 12, 239
Ḥilyat al-​awliyāʾ wa ṭabaqāt al-​aṣfiyāʾ Ibn al-​Taymiyya 8, 10–​11, 168
132 Ibn Sīnā 104, 112
himma (spiritual aspiration) 183 Ibrāhīm (Emperor) 38
Hindu Bhakti influences 12 Ibrāhīm b. Adham 106
Hingāma-​yi ʿIshq 54 Ibrāhīm, Khān ʿAlī 53
Hintze 7 Ibrāhīmī mashrab 167
History of Muslim Literature in Pakistan ʿidāla (justice) 183
and India 53 idrāk (perception) 110
Hizār wa yik shab (One Thousand and ʿiffa (continence of heart) 183
One Nights) 59 Iḥsān, Abū al-​Fayḍ Kamāl al-​Dīn 43–​44
Holy Spirit 104 iḥyāʾ (revival) 142
hoopoe 104 Iḥyā ʿulūm al-​dīn 166
howa lā howa (He/​not He) 4 iḥyanī miskīnan 236
ḥubb (the status of love) ijmāl (spiritual equilibrium)148
154–​155 ijtihād 5, 9, 11, 179, 238
Ḥujjat Allāh al-​bāligha 5, 50 ijtihādāt 179
Index  257
ikhlāṣ (sincerity) 144 īthār (altruism) 183
ikhṭilāt 139 iʿtibārī (accidental) 174
Ikram 131 ittiḥād (unification) 163, 170
ikthīr-​i ʿishq (elixir of love) 105 ʾIzālat al-​khafā ʿan khalāfat al-​khulafāʾ
Ilāhābādī, Muḥibb Allāh 2, 4 11, 130, 149
Ilāhī nāma 112
Ilāhiyya 140–​141, 169, 173 Jābiriyya 179
ilhām (divine inspiration) 114, 131 jabr wa ikhtiyār (determinism and
ilhāmāt-​i ilāhī (Lordly inspirations) 40 authority) 88, 248
ilhām-​i ghaybī 50 Jābulqā 95, 181–​182
ʿIlm (Knowledge) 157, 183 Jābulsā 95, 181–​182
ʿIlm al-​kitāb 36, 40, 45–​46, 59 Jacob 157
ʿilm al-​yaqīn (knowledge of certainty) Jadunath Sarkar 7
114–​115, 159 Jaʿfar al-​Ṣādiq 44, 111, 151, 156, 162
ʿilm-​i ladunnī (God-​given knowledge) 40 Jahāndār Shāh 38, 130–​131
imam al-​ʿārifīn (imam of the gnostics) Jahāngīr 153, 156, 168
143 Jahmiyya 179
imama (imamate) 134 Jainism 174
īmān biʾl-​ghayb (faith in the unseen) 158 Jalāl (majesty) 105
Īmān, Raḥm ʿAlī Khān 36 jalwa (apparent) 159
insān al-​kāmil (the perfect human) 2, 4, Jām, Aḥmad 58
82, 153, 156 jamāʿat-​i Muḥammadiya (Muḥammadī
Insān al-​kāmil fī maʿrifat al-​awākhir assemblage) 140
waʾl-​awāʾil 154 jamāl (beauty) 105
insān-​i bā kamāl 141 jamāl parastī (worshipping beauty) 114
insān-​i muʾakhkhar (the last man) 108, jāmiʿ al-​jamīʿ al-​ṣifāt 187
184 jām-​i jahān-​namā 108
Intiẓām al-​Dawla 129 jām-​i jam (cup of Jamshīd) 108
ʿIraq-​i ʿAjam 187 Jāmī, Nūr al-​Dīn ʿAbd al-​Raḥmān 2,
ʿIraq-​i ʿArab 187 44, 58
ʿIrāqī, Fakhr al-​Dīn 58 Jāmiʿa Masjid 5
Irshād (guidance) 175 jāmiʿ-​i jamīʿ-​i tajaliyyāt (state of
Irvine 131 all-​comprehensiveness of signs and
ʿĪsawī mashrab 167 manifestations) 98
Iṣfahānī, Abū Nuʿaym 133 jamʿiyya (concentration) 178
ʿishāʾ 56 Jān-​i Jānān, Maẓhar 5–​6, 42, 53, 173,
ʿishq (love) 58, 109–​110, 156, 183 238
ʿIshq (the Legend ) 56, 81, 86–​87, 242, Jannat Naẓīr Island 95, 97, 181–​183, 250
247 Jansath 130
ʿishq-​i ḥaqīqī (real love) 105, 156 Jats 231
ʿishq-​i majāzī (metaphorical love) 10 jawāmiʿ al-​kalim (concise speech) 158
Ishrāqī philosophy 58 Jāyasī, Malik Muḥammad 54
Ishrāqī School 152, 182 Jazūlī, ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad 136
Ishrāqiyya (Illuminationists) 179 Jerusalem 182
Islam without Europe 8 Jesus 138, 157–​158
Islamic Intellectual History in the jihād al-​akbar 88, 248
Seventeenth Century 9 Jīlānī, ʿAbd al-​Qādir 1, 38
ism al-​aʿẓam (greatest divine name) 115, Jīlī 142, 156, 158
157 Jīlī, ʿAbd al-​Karīm 154
Isrāfīl 138 Jinn 96
istiqāma (perseverance) 46, 162, jizya (religious taxation on non-​
(righteousness) 183 Muslims) 128
Iswari Prased 7 Junagrī, Qaḍī Aḥmad Miyān Akhtar 49
258 Index
Junaydiyya 167 khawf (fear) 110, 170
juzʾ 155 khayāl (imagination) 174
juzʾiyya (necessarily partial) 154 khayālī (illusory) 169
khayr al-​nāṣirīn (the best of helpers) 142
Kalām (Speaking) 157–​158 Khayrī 100
Kalimāt al-​ilāhiyya fī ṣifāt khazāna-​yi ghayb (treasury of the
al-​Muḥammadiyya 142 unseen) 82
Kalimāt-​i ṭayyabāt 6 khilāfa (vicegerecy) 134, 145
kalla lisān-​u-​hu (The one who knows khilʿat (special dress of honor) 94
God, his tongue is unable to khilʿat-​i faqr wa fanāʾ(dress of honor of
speak)167 abundance and continuance) 99
Kanīz (story of Sulṭān and Kanīz) 98, Khuda Bakhsh Oriental Public Library
251 13, 15–​18
Kanziyya 179 khudā ṭalab (God-seeker) 52
karāmat (miraculous power) 46, 79 Khujasta Shamīm 56, 87, 89
Karāmat Allāh, Ḥāfiẓ 13 khulafaʾ 43, 183
Karbalāʾ 130 khulafāʾ al-​rāshidūn (rightly-​guided
Karrāmiyya 179 caliphs) 37, 137–​138, 145, 161, 184
Kasbī (acquired) 40 Khulāṣa-​yi Nāla-​yi ʿAndalīb 19–​20
Kāshānī, ʿAbd al-​Razzāq 2, 113 khulla (friendship) 136
Kāshānī, ʿIzz al-​Dīn Maḥmūd 166 khulq-​i Ḥasan 22, 133, 148
Kashf al-​maḥjūb 167 khulq-​i Muḥammadī (Muḥammadan
Kashmīr 130 virtues and temperament) 22, 96, 133,
kathīf (dense) 170 184
kathra (diversity) 113, 159 khulūṣ (sincerity) 234
kawn jāmiʿ (all-​comprehensive Khurāsānī Sufism 55
engendered being) 2 Khurāsānī, Abū Muslim 44
Khāfī Khān 173 Khurshidul Islam 186
Khākī 181–​185 khush khulqān (righteous good
khalaf (second generation of Muslims) temperaments) 147
139 Khushbū: meaning 56; the nightingale’s
Khālidiyya 5 son 81, 101–​102; al-​Ḥasan 109,
Khalīfa 43 132–​133; the arrival of the Mahdī 147;
khāliṣ 110, 144, 147 appendix 243, 245, 251
khalwa (spiritual retreat) 131, 159, 170, Khushgū: meaning 56, 81; the
(solitude) 176 nightingale’s son 101–​102;
khalwat dar anjuman (solitude in the al-​Ḥusayn 109, 132; appendix
crowd) 115, 159, 177–​178 243, 245
Khalwatiyya 8 Khushgū, Bindrāban Dās 36, 39, 42, 49
Khān Bahādur, ʿĪsawī 54 khuṣūṣiyya (intimacy) 162
Khānaqāh 2, 5, 12, 55, 129, 173, 175, 238 Khwāja 37
Khānaqāh-​i Maẓhariyyan 238 Khwāja Mīr 42
Khāqānī 104–​105 Khwāja zāda 36
Kharaqānī, Abū al-​Ḥasan 40 Khwājagān 37
Khār-​i Dil Afgār 56, 92, 106 Kimiyā-​yi saʿādat 166
Khārijī 140 Kirmānī, Shāh Shujāʿ 106
Khārijiyya 141, 179 kitāb-​i nāṭiq (speaking book) 59
kharq-​i ʿādat 89 Knysh, Alexander 10
Kharrāziyya 167 Krishna 173
khātam al-​awliyāʾ (the seal of the friends Kubrawī master 3
of God) 2, 141 kufr-​i ṭarīqa (infidelity of the path) 172
khātam al-​wilāya 235 Kūh-​i Hūsh Rubā (Consciousness-​
khawāṣṣ (special people) 162 Snatcher Mountain) 80, 114
Index  259
kulāh chahār tarkī 164 maḥfils 40
kulāh du tarkī 164 Maḥram-​i Ḥāl 56, 94, 250
kulāh kahkahī 164 Maḥram-​i Rāz 56, 90
kull (whole) 155 maḥramiyya (intimacy) 162
maʿiyya (with-​ness): 22; qurb 87;
lā maqām (station of no station) 145, 171 bulbul and gul 103; wujūdī/​shuhūdī
Lahore 19, 20, 42, 61 understandings 111, 168, 170–​172,
Lamaṭī, Aḥmad b. al-​Mubārak 239 174–​175, 237; relation with God 115,
Laṭīf (Subtle) 170 149, 158, 235; Abū Bakr 160, 162,
Lawāʾih 2 164–​165, 236
Levtzion 8 majlis-​gūʾī (preaching) 55
Library of Mawlānā Āzād 13 Majmaʿ al-​baḥrayn 172
lisān al-​ghayb (tongue of the unseen) 58 Majmaʿ al-​nafāʾis 36
Logos 154 Maktūbāt 58
Lughat-​i Mūrān 104 malābis (garments) 157
lūlī bāsh, ādam bāsh (be a harlot but a malfūẓāt 54
perfect person) 83 Malik, Jamal 7, 10–​11, 130, 150, 187
luṭf (grace) 105 Mālikiyya 180
Man sukh rāmur 13
mā siwā Allāh (everything other than maʿnā (meaning) 87, 156
God) 3 maʿnā parastī 88
maʿānī al-​kamāliyyah (perfect meanings) manāzil (stages) 103
157 Manāzil al-​sāʾirīn 112–​113
maʿārif-​i dastgāhī (systematized manṣab 40
knowledge) 59 manṣabdār 39
Maʿdan al-​rumūz 49 Manṭiq al-​ṭayr 58, 104, 111–​112
madār (pivot) 163 maqām al-​daʿwa (station of the call) 113
Madārij al-​nubuwwa 10 maqbūl (approved) 167
maddat al-​uwlā 154 Maratha 39, 231
madhāhib 148 marbūb (ruled over) 157
madhhab 136, 139, 141, 180 mardūd (rejected) 167
Madhumalāt 54 maʿrifat (knowledge) 110, 115, 130
madrasa 12, 129 martaba-​yi asmāʾ wa ṣifāt-​i ilāhī (stage of
Madrasa-​yi Raḥīmiyya 238 divine attributes and names) 170
Madrāsī 13, 46, 48, 51, 54, 59, 142 martaba-​yi dhāt (stage of essence) 170
Madrāsī, Āsay Muḥammad ʿAbd al-​ʿAlī martaba-​yi ilāhī (divine stage) 170
40 martaba-​yi insānī (human stage) 170
Māh Munīr: meaning 55–​56; Mihr Mashāʾiyya (Peripatetics) 179
Jahāngīr’s companion 79–​80, shāh mashrab (theosophical persuasion) 136,
muhra 81, 91–​94, 97; vicegerent 139, 184
100–​101; symbol 153, 163; Abū maʿshūq (beloved) 109
Bakr 161–​162; appendix 242–​245, maʿshūq-​i ḥaqīqī (real beloved) 105
248–​249, 251 Maʿshūq-​i ʿIshq Afzā (Love-​increasing
mahabba 155 Beloved) 106
maḥabba (kindness) 183 maʿshūq-​i majāzī (metaphorical beloved)
Mahābhārata 54 105
maḥbūb (beloved) 155 mast (one who is drunk) 111
maḥbūbiyya (being the beloved) 185 Maṭbaʿa-​yi Shāhjahānī 13, 14
Mahdī: Mujaddid 44; bulbul 108; Mathnawī (by ʿAbd al-​Jalīl Bilgrāmī) 55
special connection 132, 160; Khāliṣ Mathnawī (by Mīr Athar) 36–​37
Muḥammadī 145–​148; pole of poles mathnawī 57
164; India 180, 184–​185 Mathnawī Muḥīt Aʿẓam 43
maḥfil-​i samāʿ 41 maṭlūb (object of desire) 109–​110
260 Index
Mawlawī Ghulām Yaḥyā 6 muflis (destitute) 145, 171
Maykhāna (tavern) 181 Mughal Empire and Its Decline 7
Maykhāna-​yi dard 36, 42, 45, 60 muhājir 137
Maymūniyya 179 muhājirūn (emigrants) 140
maẓhar (locus) 2 Muḥammad Maʿṣūm 37, 43
Maẓhar Qadīr 56, 244 Muḥammad Mīr 42, 45
Maẓhar-​i Jalāl 56, 94 Muḥammad Ṣāliḥ 37–​38
Maẓhar-​i Jamāl 56, 94 Muḥammad Sayf al-​Dīn 37
maẓhar-​i raḥm-​i ilāhī (manifestation of Muḥammad Shāh 39–​40, 128–​129, 131,
divine mercy) 143 148, 186, 232
Maẓhariyya Shamsiyya 6 Muḥammad Ṭāhir 37–​38
Mecca 87, 112, 134, 140, 146, 148, 182, Muḥammad Yaʿqūb 38
187, 239 Muḥammadan banner 132
Medina 106, 112, 140, 146, 188 Muḥammadan seed 153
Michael 138 Muḥammadan tree 153
Miftāḥ al-​ghayb 156 Muḥammadī 148
Mihr Jahāngīr 55–​56, 78–​81, 89, 91–​93 Muḥammadī mashrab 167
Mihr-​Parwar Begum 41 muḥaqqiqīn (those in whom the truth has
Mill, James 7 become actualized) 167
milla 140 Muḥāsabī, Ḥārith 171
min al-​Ḥaqq ila’l-​khalq bi’l-​Ḥaqq (from Muḥāsibiyya 167
the Truth in creation with the Truth) Muḥyī al-​Dīn (Ibn al-​ʿArabī ) 4
113 muḥyī al-​dīn (reviver of religion) 142
min al-​khalq ila’l-​Ḥaqq (from creation to mujaddid (renewer) 142, 147, 234
the Truth) 113 mujaddid-​i alf-​i thānī (reviver of the
Mīr Alam 20, 38 second Islamic millennium) 3
Mīr Athar, Muḥammad 36–​38 mujaddid-​i alif (a renewer that appears
Mīr Muḥammad Maḥfūẓ 38, 44 every 1,000 years) 234
Mīr Muḥammadī 38, 45 mujaddid-​i miʾa (a renewer who
Mīr Nāṣir Ṣāḥib 62 rejuvenates Islam every century) 234
Mīr Taqī Mīr 46, 53, 186 mujtahids 179–​180
miʿrāj 112 mukāshafāt (visionary unveilings) 167
miʿrāj nāma 112 mukhlaṣ (chosen by God) 144
Mīrān Shāh Beg 38 Mukhlaṣīn 144
mirʾāt al-​ʿālam (mirror of the universe) mukhliṣ (being sincere) 144
181 Mukhliṣ, Anand Rām 54
mīr-​i majlis 46 Mukhliṣīn 144
Mirigāwatī 54 mulham (God-​inspired) 40, 50, 58
miṣbāḥ (vessel of divine light) 151 mulk-​i khayāl (city in dreamland) 90
Miṣbāḥ al-​hidāyat wa miftāh al-​kifāya 166 mulk-​i qināʿat (domain of enrichment)
Miṣbāḥ al-​uns 156 99
Miskana (poverty) 172 Mullā Dawūd 54
miskīn 171–​172, 236 Mullā Ṣadrā 113
miṣrāʿ 13 Mumīt al-​Dīn (destroyer of religion) 4
mithal (example) 103 mumkināt (possibilities) 113
mithāl 169 munāsibat-​i qalbī (relation with the
Miyān ʿUmr Dirāz 20 heart) 171
mīzān 88, 248 Mūnis al-​ʿushshāq 109
Morocco 136 Muntakhab al-​laṭāʾif 36
Moses 138, 144, 157–​158 Munzawī 60
muʿāmala 141 muqarrabān 182
Muʿāwiya b. Abī Sufyān 133 muqarrabīn 182
mubtadī (novice) 171 Muqātil b. Sulaymān 151
Index  261
Murād Bakhsh 37, 173 Naushahi, Arif 47, 48
Muraqqaʿ-​e Dehli 40 nawāb of Bengal 7
Murjiʾa 179 Nawwāb Shāh Jahān Begum 13
murshid/​murīd relationship 9 Nawwāb Ẓafar Allāh Khān 38
Murtaḍā 138 nayyir al-​aʿẓam (great luminous) 152
Murtaḍawiyya 140 naẓar ilaʾl-​murd 166
Musalmān 235 nāẓir (observer) 59, 143
Mūsawī mashrab 167 naẓm 13
mushāʿira 42, 46, 58 Neo-​Sufism Reconsidered 8
Mushtarī 55–​56, 92, 98–​100, 153 Nightingale’s Refuge 100
Muṣībat nāma 112 nīkī (wellness) 110
Muslim-​Mystic Trends in India 6 Nīkū Siyar 38
Muṣṭafā 105 Nile Green 185
mutawassiṭ (middle rank) 171 niʿma al-​naṣīr (the excellent
Muʿtazilī 140 helper)142–​143
Muʿtaziliyya 179 Niʿmat Khān 41
Muẓaffarnagar 130 nisba (special connection) 132, 145, 160
nisbat-​i ʿilmī (scholarly connection) 164
nā maḥramān (unrelated persons) 103 nisbat-​i ʿishqī (connection of love) 164
nabī (prophet) 174 niyāba (delegation) 134
Nāblusī, ʿAbd al-​Ghanī 158, 239 Niẓām al-​Mulk Āṣaf Jāh 39, 130
Nādir Shāh 39, 46, 49–​50, 102, 186, 188, Nizami, Khaliq Ahmad 58
231 Nizami, Moin Ahmad 12
nafs (self) 162 Noah 138, 157
nafs-​i danī (lowly soul) 90 nubuwwa (prophethood) 114, 134, 145,
Nahāl-​i Dilband (Beloved Plant) 106 174
Nāhīd Shāh 249 Nūḥī mashrab 167
Najīb al-​Dawla 6 nūr (light) 152
Najm al-​Dīn Kubrā 111 Nūr al-​Muḥammadī (Light of
Najm al-​Dīn Rāzī 152 Muḥammad) 2, 151, 154
Namak Ḥalāl 56, 83–​84, 246 nūr al-​anwār (Supreme Light of Lights)
namūd (stable manifestation) 169 152
Naqd al-​nuṣūṣ fī sharḥ Naqsh al-​Fuṣūṣ 2 nuskhat al-​Ḥaqq 154
naqshband (engraver) 159
nasab (spiritual lineage) 175 O’ Fahey, R.S. 8–​11, 136, 231
Nasafī, ʿAzīz al-​Dīn 156 Old Testament 158
nāṣir (helper, one who gives victory) 22, Ottoman Empire 236
59, 88, 141–​143, 188, 234 outer voyage (sayr-​i āfāqī) 112
Nāṣir (Ranj) 42
nāṣir al-​dīn (helper of religion) 239 Padmāwat 54–​55
Nāṣir ʿAlī 144 Pain and Grace 36
Nāṣir Nadhīr 45, 143 Panikkar, K.N. 7
nāṣir/​ʿandalīb 142 Panīpatī, Qāḍī Thanā Allāh 150
nāṣir-​i dīn-​i Muḥammadī (helper of the parrot 96, 183
religion of Muḥammad) 143 Patanjali 174
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein 52 Patna 13, 15–​18
Nasrīn 101, 245 pīr (master) 58
naṣṣ (obligatory text) 179 pīr-​i bayʿat (shaykh of allegiance) 43
nastaʿlīq 13, 20 Pīr-​i Harāt 55
Nastaran 245 pīr-​i ṣuḥbat 42
National Library and Archives of Iran Platonic thought 104
14 prem kahānī 54
nāṭiqa (faculty of speech) 96 Prince of Medina 106
262 Index
Principle of Principles 169 Radd al-​rafāʾiḍ 12, 129
Psalms 158 Radtke, Bernard 7–​11, 136, 231
Punjab University Library, 19–​20, 60–​61 Rafīʿ al-​Darajāt 38
Rāfiḍiyya 140, 179
qāba al-​qawsayn (two bowlengths) 135 Rahman, Fazlur 8, 136, 176, 231
qabḍ (spiritual contraction) 159, 170 rajāʾ (hope) 110, 170
qābiliyyat al-​kulliyya (greatest locus for Rajgiri, Mīr Sayyid Manjhan 54
divine manifestation) 154 Rajputs 84
Qādariyya 1, 4, 38, 179 Rama 173
Qadīm 152 Rāmāyana 54
Qadri 6 Ranj, Muḥammad Nāṣir 42, 45
Qāf Mountain 107, 112, 155 Rashidun 11
qahr (severity) 105 rasūluhu (his messenger) 159
qāʾim al-​zamān (preserver of time) 5, Rawḍat al-​qayyūmiyya 43–​44
134, 234 Reform and Renewal in South Asian
qanāʿa (contentment) 183 Islam 12
qaṣīda 57 Renard, John 112, 154, 171
Qasim Zaman 11 Rethinking Tradition in Modern Islamic
Qāsimiyya 5 Thought 150
Qaṣṣāriyya 167 Richards 130
qaws al-​nuzūl (descending arc) 112, 176, riḍā (acceptance) 183
237 risāla (messengerhood) 134, 138
qaws al-​ṣuʿūd (ascending arc) 112, 176 Risālat al-​quds 104
qaws al-​ʿurūj (ascending arc) 237 Risālat al-​ṭayr 104
Qayṣarī, Dawūd 2, 113 Risāla-​yi dard-​i dil 59
qayyūm 43, 49, 102, 141, 147, 234 Risāla-​yi hūsh afzā 21, 36, 41, 46, 49,
qayyūmiyya 43, 147 60–​63, 134–​135
qibla 143 Risāla-​yi sulūk-​i ṭarīqa 6
Qiṣṣat al-​ghurba 112 Risāla-​yi tanbīhāt-​i khamsa 6
Qiṣṣa-​yi Mihr-​afrūz wa Dilbar 54 riyāḍa 183
quail 104 Rizvi 5, 130
Qudra (Power) 157–​158 Rohilla Afghans 6
Qūnawī, Ṣadr al-​Dīn, Qūnawī 2, 156 Rose Residence 100
qurb 87, 112 rubāʿī 13, 57, 59
qurb-​i Dhāt (nearness to the Essence) 162 Rudolf Peters 8
Qurrat al-​ʿaynayn fī tafdīl al-​shaykhayn 11 rūḥ (spirit) 152
Qushayrī 55 Rūm 99, 149, 153, 182
quṭb (pole) 133, 141, 156 Rūmī, Jalāl al-​Dīn 55, 57–​58, 106, 143,
quṭb al-​shamsī (solar pole) 163 151
quṭb al-​aqṭāb (pole of poles) 115, 146 Russell, Ralph 186
quṭb al-​irshād (pole of guidance)163
quṭb al-​madār (pole of the circle)163 Ṣabā, Muḥammad 36
quṭb al-​maktūm (hidden pole) 141, 235 Ṣābiriyya 12, 38
quṭb al-​qamarī (lunar pole) 164 sabk-​i hindī (Indian style) 42
quṭb al-​zamān 146 ṣabr (patience) 183
Quṭb Shāhī rulers 129 Ṣadr Bazaar 39
Qutbān 54 safar dar waṭan (traveling in the
homeland) 115, 159, 178
rabb (lord) 157 Ṣafavids 129, 236
Rabb al-​Arbāb (Lord of Lords) 154–​155, Safīna-​yi Hindi 36
157, 187 saḥāba 146
rābiṭa (a conjoining of spirits in ṣāḥib al-​zamān 141
companionship) 161 Ṣāḥib Dil 56
Index  263
Ṣāḥib Jamāl 85, 246–​247 seed 153
ṣāḥib taṣarruf 105 Shādhilī, Abū al-​Ḥasan 133
ṣāḥib-​ḥālān (those who grasp the unity Shādhiliyya 133
of the manifestation of the divine Shāfiʿī 180
essence) 167 Shāfiʿiyya 180
ṣāḥib-​i kitāb (author of a book) 143 Shāh 106
ṣāḥib-​qālān (possessors of the debates) Shāh ʿAbd al-​ʿAzīz 130
167 Shāh ʿĀrif 56, 87–​89
Sahliyya 167 Shāh Bā Kamāl 55–​56, 83–​86, 242,
ṣaḥw (sobriety) 171 246–​247
Sajjādī 112 Shāh Ḥaq Shinās 92, 100, 243, 249–​251
salaf (the first generation of Muslims) Shāh Jahān 48
22, 139–​141 Shāh Jahān Begum Wāliya Bhopal 48
Salīm 153 Shāh Jahān II 38
salṭanat-​i majāzī (figurative kingdom) shāh muhra (spell-breaking jewel): curse
177 81; legend 87, 89; Rose 92–​93;
Samʿ (Hearing) 157 Shāh-​i Shāhān 95; 98–​99; Bī Naẓīr
samāʿ 41, 58 101; possessors 108–​109, 114–​115;
sāmiʿa (sense of hearing) 96 mystical prophetic knowledge 183;
Sanāʾī Ghaznawī 58, 104, 112, 133 appendix 242, 245, 247–​248
Sānūsī 12, 239 Shāh Parī (Fairy King) 97
Sarfarāz 100–​102, 133 Shāh Rafīʿal-​Dīn 6
sargardānī (bewilderment) 156 Shāh Shaydā 56, 86–87
Sarkhush, Muḥammad Afḍal 42 Shāh Shujāʿ 81–​83, 86, 242, 245–​247
Satan 181, 184 Shāh Walī Allāh: revivalist 5–​6;
Sawdā, Mīrzā Muḥammad Rafīʿ 53 teachings 10–​11; Gulshan 42; his work
Sayfiyya 5 50; Persian 53; politics 128, Sunnism
Sayr al-​ʿibād ila al-​maʿād 112 130, 149, 165; vision 134; ṣāḥib al-​
sayr ʿan Allāh bi’llāh (journey from God zamān 141, 234; prophetology 151;
by way of God) 113 Shuhūdī/​Wujūdī 168; true shaykh
sayr fī al-​ashyāʾ (journey in things) 113 173–​175; Prophethood 174; authentic
sayr fī’llāh (journey in God) 113 Islam 236; network 238–​239
sayr wa sulūk 112 Shahāb 100–​101
sayr-​i āfāqī (process of traveling in the Shāh-​Ganj district 42
external world) 145 shāh-​i ʿāqibat andīsh 37
sayr-​i anfusī (inner voyage) 112 Shāh-​i ʿĀshiqān (King of lovers)
sayr-​i anfusī wa sayr-​i āfāqī 88, 112, 145 106–​107
sayr ilā’l-Allāh (journey toward God) shāh-​i bī khabar (heedless king) 38
113 Shāh-​i Jinn wa Ins (King of Jinns and
Sayyid brothers 38, 44, 128, 130, 149 Humans) 56, 95, 181, 184
Sayyids of Bārha 129 Shāh-​i Shāhān (King of Kings) meaning
Sayyid Fayyāḍ Maḥmūd 49 56; the rose 92–​95; union 97–​99;
Sayyid-​i ʿĀshiqān (Master of Lovers) 106 naming 106, stages115; appendix 243,
Schimmel, Annemarie: eighteenth 249–​251
century Sufism 8, 150; ʿAndalīb’s Shahīd Fātiḥpūrī, ʿAbd al-​Ḥaqq 20
life and thought 36, 60; vision 42, Shāhjahānābād 5, 20, 39, 46, 49, 129
131; Prophet/​king 106; morality Shāhjahānī printing house 12–​13, 40
among Mughal emperors 131; seed of Shāhjahānī publishing center 48
creation 153; Yoga 174; social aspect shahr āshūb 186
of Sufism 176; Muḥammadiyya in shahr-​i mithāl (city of archetypal images)
India 187 90
Schulze, Reinhard 7–​8 Shahristānī 10
Sedgwick 158 Shajarat al-​kawn (Tree of being) 153
264 Index
shakhṣ-​i ʿadam (man of non-​existence) Sirhindī, ʿAbd al-​Aḥad 40–​41
184 Sirhindī, Nāṣir ʿAlī 53
shakhṣ-​i muqaddam (the first man) 184 Sirr-​i Akbar 172
Shām 86–​87, 91–​93, 100–​101, 133, 182, Solomon 104
242, 247, 249 Ṣubḥat al-​marjān fi āthār Hindustan 185
Shama Mitra Chenoy 40 Sufi Heirs of the Prophet 136
Shāmma (sense of smell) 96 ṣūfī namāyān (pseudo-​Sufis) 166
Shams 12 ṣūfiyān-​i khām-​i hālik (inexperienced and
sharāb al-​ṭahūr (pure divine wine) 183 wretched Sufis) 167
shaṭḥiyyāt (ecstatic utterance) 82, 172 ṣūfiyān-​i muwaḥḥid (monotheist Sufis)
Shaṭṭārī 54 169
Shaṭṭāriyya 167 ṣūfiyān-​i sābiq (former Sufis of earlier
Shawkanī 12 times) 167
shawq (eagerness) 183 ṣuḥba (companionship) 51, 82, 159, 171,
Shaydā 56, 86–​87, 247 175–​176
Shaykh ʿ Abd al-​Karīm Lāhurī 2 Suhrawardī 109–​110
shaykh al-​akbar 2 Suhrawardī Sufi 54
shikasta style 60 Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-​Dīn Abū Ḥafṣ
Shīr Zan-​i Āhū Shikār 56, 82, 242, 245 ʿUmar 59
Shīrāzī, Saʿdī 57 Suhrawardī, Shihāb al-​Dīn Yaḥyā 58,
Shirk (dissemination of polytheism) 173, 104, 112, 152, 182
235 Ṣuḥuf-​i Ibrāhīm 36, 53
shirk-​i khafī (hidden polytheism) 172 sukr (ecstasy) 113, 171
Shirwānī, Muḥammad Ḥabīb al-​Raḥmān sukrī (people of intoxication) 172–​173
Khān 42 Sulṭān (story of Sulṭān and Kanīz) 98,
Shuhūdī 4, 63, 111, 136, 168, 170, 173, 243, 251
237 sulūk 146
shujāʿa (bravery) 183 Sunni tarāsh (Shaper of Sunnis) 6
shūrish (rebellion) 156 ṣūrat (form) 87, 156
Ṣiddīq (Sincere) 161 sūrat al-​Ikhlāṣ 170
ṣiddiqiyya (trustfulness) 138, 140, 145 ṣūrat parast (idol worshipper) 87
sidrat al-​muntahā (lote tree) 80, 107 sūrat al-​Fātiḥa 58
ṣifāt (divine attributes) 167
Sikhs 231 Taʿarruf li madhhab ahl al-​taṣawwuf 166
Silsila (chain) 44, 136, 175 taʿayyun 188
Silsilat al-​dhahab 2 Taʿayyun al-​Awwal (First Entification)
Simnānī,ʿAlāʾ al-​Dawla 3, 133, 168 132, 157
Sīmurgh 104, 107–​108, 112, 152 taʿayyun-​i jasadī (entification of body)
Sipihr Shukūh 55–​56, 79, 81, 100, 163, 135
243–​244, 251 taʿayyun-​i rūḥī (entification of spirit) 135
sirāj (lamp) 152 tabaʿiyya (allegiance, following) 162, 175
sirāj al-​munīr (illuminating lamp) 152 Ṭabarī, Muḥammad Ibn Jarīr 185
ṣirāṭ 248 tābiʿ (follower) 161
ṣirāṭ al-​mustaqīm (the straight path) 22, Ṭabʿ-​i Salīm 56, 86, 247
136, 236 ṭabīb-​i rūḥānī (spiritual physician) 175
Sirhindī, Aḥmad al-​Farūqī: teachings tābiʿū al-​tābiʿīn (followers of the
3–​5, 233–​235; orthodox approach 10, followers) 139, 146
12, 41, 58, 129, 173, 180; successors tābiʿūn (followers) 138–​139, 146
37, 49; qayyūm 43, 141; mujddid 44, Tadhkiras 20, 36
234; spiritual journey 113; politics Tadhkira-​yi Hindi 36, 39
128; Sunnism 161; Wujūdīs/​ Shuhūdī Tadhkira-​yi rūz-​i rawshan 36
debates 168; prophethood/​sainthood tafaʿul 58
174; social life 176 Tafsīr al-​Qurʾān al-​ʿazīm 151
Index  265
Ṭāhiriyya 5 Ṭayfūriyya 167
Taḥqīq mā lil-​Hind 6 ṭayr (bird) 104
Ṭahūr Bayk 245 Thawriyya 167
Tāʾiyya 4 The Eighteenth Century in India 7
tajallī (manifestation self-​disclosure) The Mughal Empire and Its Decline 7
2–​3, 105 Tījānī, Aḥmad 12, 235–​236, 239
tajallī al-​dhātī (essential manifestation) Tilmisānī, ʿAfīf al-​Dīn 113
158 Tirmidhī 141
Tājdār 56, 91–​93, 100–​101 Transoxania 129
tāj-​i faqr (crown of poverty) 101, 132 ṭūbā tree 107
Tājir-​i Faqīr 56, 94, 100–​101, 243, 249, Tufḥa al-​ʾithnā ʿashariyya 12, 130
251 ṭughrā 144
Tājir-​i Ghanī 56, 91, 93 turāb (earth) 163
Tājir-​i Kabīr 56, 91, 100, 243, 248, 251 Turkmān Gate 46
Tājir-​i Ṣādiq 56, 83–​84 Tustarī, Sahl 151–​152
Takfir 236 ṭuyūr 104
Takim, Liyakat N. 159
takwīn (engendering) 157 ʿulamāʾ 60, 128–​129, 158
ṭāla lisān-​u-​hu 168 ʿulamāʾ al-​rusūm 10
ṭālib (seeker) 109 ūlu al-​amr (those in authority) 176
talwīn (coloring) 162, 171 ʿUmar 138, 165
tamkīn (obedience) 162, 171–​172 Umar 166
tamthīl-​i ramzī (secret allegory) 103 Umayyads 110
tanazzulāt (descents) 169 Umm al-​Fāṭima 93
tanzīh (transcendence) 3; Umm al-​Muʾminīn (Mother of the
(incomparability) 106, 158, 168 Believers) 101
tanzīhī 3–​4 Umma 132, 139, 145, 180, 235
tanẓīm 57 ummat al-​rasūl (the Prophet’s
taqarrub (special proximity) 157 community) 141
taqlid (imitating) 9, 11, 175 ummat al-​wāḥida (one community) 138
Tara Chand 7 Upanishads 6, 172
Taʾrīkh al-​rusul waʾl-​mulūk 185 Uriel 138
Ṭarīqa-​yi Ḥasaniyya 135 ʿurs 40–​41
ṭarīqa-​yi ʿishqiyya-​yi Muḥammadiyya uṣūl al-​dīn 136
(Muḥammadan path of love) 139 ʿUthmān 138, 140, 165
tark-​i ḥikmī (inward abandonment of the ʿUthmān Ghāḍīpūrī 54
world) 178, 237 ʿUthmāniyya 140–​141
tark-​i ṣūrī (outward abandonment) 178 ʿUways al-​Qaranī 40
taṣarruf (spiritual influence) 90 uwaysī sufi 39–​40, 50, 110, 148, 175
taṣawwuf 9
Tasbīh al-​ṭuyūr 104 Vedanta 173–​174
Taṣfiyya fī aḥwāl al-​mutaṣawwifa 111 Vedantic wisdom 2
tashbīh (similarity) 3, 106, 158, 168 Vedas 54, 173
tashbīhī 3–​4 Voll, John O. 7, 8, 11
Ṭāsīn al-​Sirāj 152
taskīn (state of quieting) 171–​172 Wahhābī 236
taslīm (submission) 183 waḥda (unity) 113, 159
taṣnīf–​i bartar az taʿrīf 58 Waḥdat (pen names) 41
taṭbīq 5 Waḥdat, ʿAbd al-​Aḥad 42
Ṭawāsīn 152 Waḥḥābī movement 236
tawḥīd 2–​3, 148, 180 wāḥidiyya 169
taʾwīdh (amulet) 166 wajd (ecstacy) 162
Tawsiyya 4 wājib (necessary) 113
266 Index
Wājib al-​Wujūd (Necessary Being) 3 Wujūdī 4, 63, 109, 111, 141, 148,
Wāla Shāh 56, 87 169–​170, 173–​174, 180, 237
Walī (friend of God) 2, 138, 143, 145,
148, 168, 171, 174, 234 Yā Nāṣir 45, 59
walī-​yi akhaṣṣ al-​khawāṣṣ (the most Yā Nūr 89
special, special saint) 145 yaqīn (certitude) 3
walī-​yi ʿāmm (general saint) 145 Yār (helper) 234
walī-​yi kāmil (perfect friend of God) 133 yārān-​i bāzīgūsh (playful pupils) 62
walī-​yi khāṣṣ (special saint) 145 yār-​i ghār (friend of the cave) 161
wārith-​i ʿilm-​i Murtaḍawī (heir of Yār-​i Ṣādiq (trustworthy friend) 84
Murtaḍawī knowledge) 143 Yazīd b. Muʿāwiya 133
Wāṣitī 158, 236 Yemen 92
waṣl 112 yiktā parastī (monotheistic worship) 114
Weismann, Itzchak 60, 178 Yoga 174, 234
Werbner 11 Yogic practices 51, 174
wilāya: Ibn al-​ʿArabian concept 4; Yogis 2, 60, 173–​174
among Mujaddidīs 43; notion 44; Yusuf 144
journey 113–​115; degrees 134–​135,
145; khulaf āʾ 138; spiritual rank Ẓafar Allāh Khān 38
141; ʿAlī 163; faqr171; prophethood/​ zāhid (ascetic) 80, 244–​245
sainthood 174, 180 ẓāhir (external dimension) 114
wilāyat al-​ʿawliyāʾ (the highest or holiest Zargar-​i ʿAql 56, 86
land) 186 Ziad 52, 146–​147
wilāyat al-​suflā (the lowest land) 186 ẓill Allāh fī al-​arḍ (shadow of God on
wilāyat-​i Aḥmadī 135 earth) 106
wilāyat-​i ʿāmma (general sainthood)145 Zīnat al-​Masājid 42, 45–​46
wilāyat-​i awliyāʾ (higher sainthood) 145 Zīnat al-​Nisā 38, 131
wilāyat-​i kubrā (major sainthood) 113, Zīnat al-​Nisā Begum 45
145 Zubayr, Pīr Muḥammad 41–​44, 49–​50,
wilāyat-​i Muḥammadī 135 60, 129, 234
wilāyat-​i ṣughrā (minor sainthood) 113, zubdat al-​wāṣilīn (elite of the united)
145 143
Wujūd (being) 157, 169, 172 ẓuhūr (self-​manifestation) 4, 169

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