Daily Times

In the narrow dusty lanes of Mehrauli, a neighbourhood of Delhi, a few metres away from the famous Qutub Minar, is the small sanctuary of a Sufi saint known as Qutubuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki, who lived more than 800 years ago. Cars and rickshaws are allowed only up to a certain point, as roads leading to the dargah (shrine) trickle down in size. One has to trudge on foot passing by beggars; flower sellers selling chaddar (cloth sheet), and incense sticks at their stalls; and languid roadside eateries with wobbly chairs and tables selling naan, curry and the works. The odd animal resting on the road also greets you as you stride along the road; children running around with wide smiles may bump into you as the shrine comes into sight. This Sufi mystic belonging to the Chishtiya order traces his roots to Osh in the Fergana valley in present day Kyrgyzstan. His predecessor was Hazrat Moinuddin Chishti of Ajmer, whom most people in the subcontinent are familiar with. Yet Kaki’s charm is a bit concealed from the world and less talked about, perhaps out of some mystic design. Each discovery has its own time and place according to eastern philosophy.

Outside the Kaki’s dargah sits a qawaal with henna-stained hair singing praises of the Aulias’ (friends of God) ability to heal those afflicted by diseases outwardly or impacted by life’s strains inwardly. Many wish to believe him, and toss small change on the mat that houses his harmonium. Like all Sufi dargahs this one does not discriminate, and so it welcomes visitors rich and poor, Hindu and Muslim, newly married or facing marital discord offering their salaam. Most people also weave threads of mannat (vow) through the intricate marble lattice that surrounds the grave. Modern day feminists may bemoan being kept at a distance from the actual burial spot as men enjoy a closer audience with the Khawaja, but a visit here is mostly about the inner journey rather than about getting the best seats in a rock concert. The scent of sandalwood and fresh roses fills the air, pigeons rest by the dozens on the dome, but it is the air of solitude that takes centrestage here, captivating your very presence.

Legend has it that when Bakhtiyar Kaki was five years old he surprised his religious teacher during his Bismallah khwani by reciting the Quran up to the 15th chapter. The shocked teacher asked, “How is it possible for someone who hasn’t even started to know so much already?” To this, the quiet-natured, young saint replied, “When I was in the womb my mother would recite the Quran daily and that is where I picked it up.”

To the educated, rational mind this story may appear implausible, but miracles are an accepted norm within this strand of Islam. More than anything else, these Sufi ascetics represent acceptance and friendship towards all. An element greatly missing today in a world filled with televangelists directing our thoughts towards social segregation. The “sinners” feel equally at home here along with the “pious” ones.

The widely held belief that no one ever returns empty-handed from a Khawaja’s abode goes back to the open kitchens of their times when these dervishes held prominence over various centres of the region, and people thronged to them for a nazrana (gift). From the most difficult wishes being granted to a plate full of food for the unfortunate ones, the saints continue to give even in death.

Bakhtiyar Kaki’s tomb was also featured in the popular film Bajrangi Bhaijaan in the scene where Salman Khan discovers the little girl is a Muslim after seeing her raise her hands for dua (prayer) at the premises.

This particular dargah has a calming effect even on spiritually lost souls; many guests of the saint can be seen in a meditative trance sitting quietly in some corner. The tranquil mood here is in contrast with the commercialisation at shrines one sees elsewhere, with religious salesmen trying their best to sell you a spiritual experience. Perhaps the cleansing aura of the place has something to do with the energy of the departed soul of the man who spent days and nights invoking the names of Allah.

Sufi verses popularised by qawaalis continue to enthrall audiences all over. The lyrics are mainly about the principles of these saintly scholars with little attachment to worldly desires, and hearts filled to the brim with love for the Creator. Even those who have come to be wary of Islam due to current affairs seem to find some comfort in a kalaam (Sufi poetry) or two; this resurgence of Sufi music has been a somewhat balancing factor, at least in the realm of spirituality.

Muslims who are sceptical of Sufism and its traditions are quick to label its proponents as “halwa-eating infidels.” For most folks, interest in visiting dargahs is initially motivated by wish fulfilment, but the real benefit lies in finding “nothingness” in these places. Emptying the self of all noises, spending some rejuvenating time with a friend-guide from the 13th century, and finding one’s centre is the real reward.

Qutubuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki during his lifetime exchanged letters with his spiritual master based in Ajmer. There were notes about the toughest spiritual practices, rejecting monetary assistance from sultans who ruled Delhi at the time, and being one with the poor. He would later go on to share the same thoughts with his disciple and successor, Fariduddin Ganjshakar, whose tomb is in Pak Pattan, Punjab, Pakistan.

As I made my way out of the holy place, after finding my slippers I overheard a young couple grill a caretaker of the dargah, “So when will Baba fulfill our vow?” asked the husband. The caretaker simply replied that everything would turn out well. “Matlab, (meaning) we can expect it to happen by the end of the month?” dissatisfied with the answer the impatient wife wanted to know, putting a deadline to the fulfilment of her prayer. I smiled at their newbie status and continued walking, hoping they get more chances to return.

The writer is a freelance columnist with a degree in Cultural Studies and a passion for social observation, especially all things South Asian. She tweets @chainacoffeemug