Communing with a 700+-year-old Companion: Amir Khusraw and Me

One thing I love about Amir Khusraw, the medieval Indo-Persian poet who was the subject of my first book, is the intensely personal quality of his writing. Pain, love, indignation, insecurity, and pride all seem to rise, like steam, from his words – a characteristic that helps collapse the geographical, chronological, and cultural distances between him and his contemporary readers. Take, for example, the following ghazal:

Sorrow not, O heart, for once again shall days of joy arrive;

to every place that now aches in pain, in the end, shall balm arrive.

Between a man and that which is his goal –

even if the path’s one hundred years, at its time,

it comes at once...

Friends, I am your dust; when you drink the wine of joy

pour a draught for my dust too, that it may revel in its dew.

Be not sad, Khusraw, that days of joy have passed away:

set your heart upon God, for the desired joy will also come.

Many poets have written about heartbreak, but with Khusraw, it’s easy to imagine that he was actually experiencing it while composing this poem, and reassuring himself that relief is on its way, even if it will take time. One can also sense his anxiety about his legacy as he implores his future readers to drink in his honor and to remember him in their moments of pleasure. Again, the sentiment is a common one, but for some reason it’s easy to believe that Khusraw, in particular, was determined not to be forgotten after his death.

Another admirable feature of Khusraw is his tendency to downplay differences between peoples who traditionally are at odds. The following ghazal can be read as a paean to religious tolerance:

For me, it matters not whether the love of God is found in the qiblah or the idol-temple

For the lovers of God, there is no difference between "faith" and "unbelief."

Take one step upon your own soul, and the other upon the two worlds

For those who tread the paths of love, there is no lovelier way of going.

Upon the delicate body of Shirin, even a glance weighs heavily

Upon the stout heart of Farhad, even a mountain is light.

See the lover as a holy warrior who's at war with his carnal soul

When he gives up his life in battle, he is no less than a knight.

O Brahmin, give refuge to this rejected one of Islam

Or is there no refuge even before idols for an errant one like me?

How often they say to me: 'Go, tie on a sacred thread, O idol worshipper'

[But] in the body of Khusraw, which vein is not [already] a sacred thread?

Here we see Khusraw’s refusal to categorize people according to their religious affiliations, but rather according to their devotion to God. It does not matter if someone is Muslim or Hindu, he says, whether they worship toward Mecca or in a temple -- as long as they love God they are believers. Shirin and Farhad, the legendary lovers of Persian lore, are exemplars for this type of devotion.

Of course, Khusraw ultimately takes the concept to the extreme by identifying himself as a Hindu and idol-worshipper and as one rejected from the fold of Islam. Referring to the sacred threads worn by Hindus, he asks, “… in the body of Khusraw, which vein is not [already] a sacred thread?” That sort of deliberately outrageous comment (at least in the context of what we can envision as the polite Muslim society of Delhi Sultanate India) shows his willingness to take risks – again, a sort of impulsive streak that leaps forth from the page, igniting the heart of the reader.

I’ve written about Khusraw for more than 15 years now, and for more than 15 years he has proven a surprising, clever, compassionate and witty companion – no mean feat, given that he’s been dead for almost 700 years. I am looking forward to another 15 years together; and, whenever I drink the wine of joy, will be sure to “pour a draught for his dust too.”

Poems from the following sources:

Ghazal #1: Kulliyāt-i ghazalīyāt-i Khusraw [The Complete Ghazals of Khusraw], ed. Iqbāl Salāh al-Dīn and Sayyid Vazīr al-Hasan ‘Ābidī, 4 vols. (Lahore, 1972-4), vol. 2, pages 474-5, ghazal 69.

Ghazal #2: Ibid., vol. 1, pages 362-3, ghazal 190.

Both translated by Alyssa Gabbay.