EXPLANATORY NOTES.
“Fakir.”—Much has been previously said under this heading, but it is well to give here a few of the sayings of the noted Fakir known by the name generally of “Baba Farīd,” whose shrine is still to be seen in the town of “Pak Pattan” in the Montgomery district, not far from Mūltān. He was one of the “Chisti class” and a Shiah, belonging to a tribe of Arab descent. The Shiahs differ from the Sunnis in the belief that Ali ought to have succeeded the Prophet, instead of Abubakr, Omar, and Osman.
The shrine is an extensive one, but in order to enter it, it is necessary to pass in by a small doorway about four feet high and two feet broad, closed by a door made of sandal wood, to which three locks are attached, and the key of each is in the custody of a responsible person. On festival days, however, which happen once a year, the locks by some magic power fall off of themselves into a cloth held to catch them.
The devout worshippers enter by the door, and pay each one rupee for the privilege, and as it is calculated that over 100,000 visit the shrine each year, the gain to some one class must be enormous. So infatuated do the devotees become, that it is commonly believed by them that the parrots cry out “Farīd! Farīd!” as they fly over the shrine.
There are piles of stones near “Ajmere,” arranged in a line, and the story is that a string of camels carrying bags of sugar were going into the city, and “Baba Farīd” meeting them enquired of the drivers what the camels were burdened with. The drivers turned upon him with a sneer and said, “Stones! Stones!” “Is it so?” replied Farīd, “then let it be stones!” and lo, and behold, when they came to unload their beasts they found that the sugar had been really turned into stones, and emptying all their bags, they left the stones by the road-side, which are to be seen to this day.
Several verses, or quatrains, have been ascribed to Baba Farīd, and here are two or three:
Oot! Farīda suthia
Mumm ka deva bââl
Sahib jinnadhay jagthay
Nufferan keah sona nââl
TRANSLATION.
Rise, Farīda, from your sleep,
Light the candle of your soul;
Thy God who is ever wakeful
His servants should not slumber.
Again, when seeing a woman grinding at a mill (one well known):
Chukki phirtay veyk kay
Farīda dhitar ro
Do purrân vitch
Akay khan na chulley koh
TRANSLATION.
Seeing the mill going round
Farīda began to cry.
Between two stones he saw
The grain that comes is crushed.
And further, thinking on the mill, Farīda added:
Jo loor eveng salaam thêê
kol kili dhâ ho.
TRANSLATION.
To be in safety keep close to the centre peg, which is God, where
some grains escape the mill, we know.
Again, and this shall be the last:
Oot Farīda suthia
Darhi Ayah boor
Agê Ayah nairay
Piche saha dûr.
Farīda aisa ho-raho
Jaisa kukh musseeth
Luthee pyree latharia
Tera Sahib nââl purreeth.
TRANSLATION.
Arise, Farīda, from your sleep;
Your beard is getting grey.
That which is to come is near;
That which has passed is far away.
Strive, oh, Farīda! to be
As the Musjid trodden grass,
Humble and self-abased,
Yet in friendship with your God.
Crooke says of Baba Farīd, that he was called also, Shakkarganj, or Fountain of Sweets. Shakkar being the Persian for sugar; but more probably from the Arabic word “Shookur,” thanksgiving. He was a disciple of Qutub-ud-din, who lived near Delhi, who again sat at the feet of Imam-ud-din of Ajmere, also a great name to swear by. Baba Farīd is said to have had the “Hidden hand” (dast-i-ghaib), a sort of magic bag which gave him anything he wished.
Every devotee who contrives to get through the door of his mausoleum is assured of a free entrance into Paradise, and the crowds are immense.
Pak Pattan was called the “Ferry of the Pure One,” and the latter days of Farīd-ud-Din were spent at Adjudhan, a very ancient city in the Punjâb. This Fakir was instrumental in the conversion of the whole of the Southern Punjâb to the faith of Islam.
Note.—The self-inflicted penances of both Hindu and Mahomedan Fakirs are well known, but perhaps the “Measurement Affliction,” or “Kusht,” from the Persian word “Kusht,” meaning “killing,” will be new to some. It consists in making an approach to the shrine from a considerable distance, and measuring that distance by so many lengths of the body, foot after head, until the shrine is reached. But few can go through this extreme torture in the sun, and then only with the assistance of relatives and friends, who supply sherbet and drinks to the devotee, and keep his body cool with fans.
Note.—In relation to this Folk-tale, it is said in the district:
Burri jungul ki wassar
Burri khullachnee nââr
Burri moorick ki hassa
There are three things that are bad:
Perpetual seclusion in the jungle;
A quarrelsome and peevish wife;
The rough horse-play of a boor.