‘I DON’T care about haram or halal. I’d rather extinguish the fire in hell and burn heaven so that people could start loving God for no other reason than love.’ This statement, as quoted by Shams Tabrizi in the book The Forty Rules of Love written by Elif Shafak, perhaps best encapsulates the esoteric vs the exoteric aspects of Islam. The path of inner enlightenment, the Tariqah, in contrast to the unbending formalism, the Shariah. The esoteric Islam, or Sufism, essentially promotes a way of worshipping the Almighty by placing love at its core, instead of fear. My introduction into this mystical world of Islam began as a child in a Sylheti home with the historical tales and folklore of the Sufi saints of the region. In fact, the effects of the entwinement of Sufism and Sylhet can be felt not just across the country but beyond the border as well.
At the heart of these epic chronicles was Hazrat Shah Jalal, a revered Sufi saint from Yemen, who played a critical role in the ‘Islamic conquest of Srihatta’ (present-day Sylhet). As the legend goes, he arrived in Sylhet around 1303 CE, accompanied by 360 companions or Oli-Awlia, during the famous battle between Sultan Shamsuddin Firoz Shah of Lakhnauti and the Hindu King Gour Govinda. When Shaykh Burhanuddin, a Muslim man living in Sylhet, sacrificed a cow for the naming ceremony of his newly born son, it was misinterpreted as a grave sacrilege to Hinduism. Infuriated, Gour Govinda punished Burhanuddin by having his right hand dismembered and the newborn killed. A battle ensued. The army, led by Sikandar Khan Ghazi, the military general of the Sultan, and accompanied by the mystical pir Shah Jalal, won against king Gour Govinda, causing him to flee. According to a prominent local tale, Hazrat Shah Jalal caused a storm through praying, throwing the enemy forces off their course, and subsequently winning through ‘spiritual forces’. Thus began the propagation of Islam in Sylhet. As mentioned by Syed Murtaza Ali in the essay A Chronology of Muslim Faujdars of Sylhet, ‘Sylhet came under the domination of Muslims when Hazrat Shah Jalal, the patron saint of Sylhet, conquered Raja Gour Govinda.’
Central to the Sufi society, the burial sites of the pir, known as mazar or the dargah, serve as the ‘nerve centres of divine energy’ and are believed to still channel the blessing of Sufi saints. Seeking these miraculous blessings, thousands of devotees gather at these shrines with their ‘oaths, petitions, and appeals’ seeking cures for illnesses, success in their endeavours, or solutions to worldly predicaments. This belief in the intercession of saints — that they can act as intermediaries between God and the devotee — is a central tenet of Sufi practice in Sylhet. Dotted throughout the town and the more remote areas are approximately 360 such shrines, the most renowned ones being that of Hazrat Shah Jalal and his nephew, Hazrat Shah Paran — egalitarian in nature, the doors and spiritual rituals of these shrines welcome people from all classes, genders, ethnicities, and faiths. The devotees come together as a community to celebrate shared values of love, compassion, and tolerance, ardently seeking spiritual solace in God, their Beloved. The shrine is revered as a junction where the material and spiritual worlds intersect, with each mazar carrying its own mystical story, enhancing its spiritual allure, and becoming vital components of Sylhet’s social fabric.
One story recounts how Hazrat Shah Paran had consumed one of the Jalali Kobutor (sacred pigeons) that were gifted to Hazrat Shah Jalal by the revered Sufi saint Nizamuddin Auliya during his journey to Bengal. Seen as a significant breach of etiquette and respect towards the sacred pigeons, Shah Paran was temporarily banished by his uncle from Sylhet. These pigeons, still deemed sacred, became emblematic of Shah Jalal’s legacy, and hundreds of their descendants, to this day, inhabit the dargah. This is currently the most visited shrine in the country, with historian Syed Mahmudul Hasan deeming it the spiritual heart of Sylhet. Hazrat Shah Paran, after the ousting, went on to establish his own khanqah (Sufi lodge) on a hill in Khadim Nagar, about 7 kilometres from Sylhet, another major centre in the town for spiritual practice and asceticism. The death of Shah Paran is also shrouded in mystery. Clear historical records were never found, unlike many saints whose passing is well-documented. This has led to various interpretations and legends among devotees. Some believe he achieved a form of spiritual ascension rather than a conventional death, further enhancing his status as a mystical figure within Sufism.
Despite the deep-rooted love and reverence for the saints and their shrines, Sufism in Sylhet has increasingly come under attack. These attacks are both physical and ideological, with certain factions accusing Sufism of promoting practices that contradict Islam. The reverence shown to saints, the intercessory prayers, and the rituals surrounding the shrines are often cited as evidence that Sufism deviates from tawhid (the oneness of God), which is a fundamental concept in Islamic theology. However, the general consensus among Sufis is that saints are not to be worshipped as intermediaries or deities but, rather, should be perceived as spiritual guides who help believers with their spiritual awakening. The intercessory prayers made at shrines are viewed as seeking blessings from God through the saints, much like how Muslims ask each other to pray for them. This practice does not equate to shirk (associating partners with God) but rather acknowledges the saints’ piety and proximity to the divine.
According to the tariqah, or the way, which Sufi scholars describe as ‘the mystical journey that leads the Sufi away from the external reality of religion and toward the divine reality’ — the disciple must endure a journey toward self-purification and inner enlightenment through stages of nafs (self), zikr (remembrance), ibadat (prayer), morakaba (meditation), miraj (ascension), tajalli (divine illumination), faqr (spiritual poverty), tawhid (oneness of God), fana (ecstatic, intoxicating self-annihilation) and baqa (subsistence) — all of which pave the way for the Sufi to seek the annihilation of his ego. These ideas have been promulgated through centuries and have sculpted the spiritual practices observed in Sylhet as well. As expected, the juxtaposition of mystical Islam against orthodox Islam is taut with tension, with Sufi traditions often being perceived as blasphemous by religious authorities, brutally persecuting the adherents of Sufism in numerous occasions throughout history. Rarely welcomed in mosques, Sufi scholars and followers developed their own way of ritualistic practices of communicating with the divine. The most widely practiced of these is the zikr, the physical act of remembering God. As Reza Aslan writes in No God but God, ‘Often accompanied by strenuous breathing exercises and rapid movements of the head and torso (the disciples are usually sitting in a circle), these invocations are pronounced faster and faster until the phrase breaks down into meaningless, monosyllabic exhalations of breath, which naturally comes to resemble the Arabic word hu! or ‘he,’ meaning God. Here it emphasises and intensifies the presence of God with ‘God, Just He!’Aslan further adds, ‘By repeatedly invoking God through this physical act of remembrance, the disciple gradually strips himself of his ego (nafs) so that he may be clothed instead in the attributes of God.’ Likewise, at these dargahs of Sylhet, zikr is performed as an act of collective remembrance among the devotees. Other rituals include the very act of visiting the shrine, known as ziyarat, also seen as a form of devotion, meditating, making offerings of flowers and tabarruk (blessed food), lighting candles, and vowing to return with gifts if their prayers are answered.
Another form of zikr, primarily practiced by the Chisti Order, which presided mainly over the Indian subcontinent, is the Sufi practice of using music to achieve ‘ecstatic contact with God’. However, shrine festivals all the way from Morocco to Pakistan also witness hundreds of people gathering to hear Sufi poems being sung and be moved to tears. These events are referred to as mahfil-i sama in Persian and layla in Arabic. Interestingly, Sufi poetry was not a fringe phenomenon but a mainstream approach to teaching Islam in Afghanistan’s madrasas. Alongside the Quran and Hadith, students learnt poetic exegeses based on the compilations of Rumi, Saadi, and Hafiz.’, writes Annika Schmeding, author of Sufi Civilities: Religious Authority and Political Change in Afghanistan. As recounted by one of her Afghan friends, she adds, ‘In the past, there was oral knowledge on how to understand, recite, and sing poetry. Until the Soviet time, [in addition to the Quran,] the mosques were also teaching poetry … Now there is only learning by heart, no analysis.’ At Sufi concerts in India and Pakistan, listeners from the audience, ‘leaping up and dancing wildly with tears’ is not a rare sight, as witnessed by historian Nile Green. In fact, one story goes as to how a Sufi in old Delhi, ‘fell into a state of rapture for his Beloved, then kneeled over and died of heartbreak’ upon hearing the lyrics of a devotional Sufi song.
To quote the Sufi scholar, Javad Nurbaksh, the pir is the ‘sublime elixir,’ the one who alters ‘the copper of seekers’ hearts into pure gold and cleanses their being.’ Naturally, the anniversaries of their death, urs, Persian for ‘weddings,’ are marked by an atmosphere of joy and reverence, ‘because in dying and leaving the world, the pir is finally united with God.’ These annual celebrations in Sylhet attract thousands of devotees who come to pay homage and partake in prayers, music, poetry, and communal feasting. Of course, these forms of spiritual practice, through music and dancing, are misinterpreted as deviant practices by traditional Islamic worship and are often vehemently opposed by a section of Muslims. Similar incidences of suppression are seen in Sylhet too, with the most recent one being when objections were raised regarding the practice of qawwali, a form of Sufi devotional music, at the shrine of Hazrat Shah Paran.
If we look back at history, the rapid spread of Sufism, and consequently Islam, in India is largely due to its incorporation of musical rituals into worship. Early Chisti evangelists used flutes and drums to gather crowds before sharing mystical stories of saints, trying to bridge the spiritual and physical realms. This inclusive practice, known as sama, still draws people from diverse backgrounds, fostering interfaith dialogue and reinforcing Sufism’s message of love and unity. In rejecting the rigidity of the shariah and its dogmatic interpretations and also by embracing local customs and beliefs, Sufism gained immense popularity, especially in regions outside Arab-dominated areas.
A less discussed reason, however, is the antiestablishment ideal of Sufism, which is advocated through these devotional poems and songs. Far-right Muslim groups have destroyed many Sufi shrines because the practices at these sites promote an Islam that opposes political power, conflicting with the ambitions of religious fundamentalism, which views political control as central to religion. As noted by Reza Aslan, ‘Islamic law is concerned with the external (zahir) nature of faith: it is quantitative; it can be regulated. But the internal (batin) cannot, and therefore represents a grave threat to the religious authorities.’ The word jihad has been reduced somewhat to legitimise violence in the name of God, rendering the term synonymous with terrorism in the West. In contrast, jihad al-nafs, or the struggle against the self, is a significant concept in Sufism that refers to the internal battle that individuals face against their desires, ego, and sinful inclinations. This struggle is considered one of the most important forms of jihad (striving) in Islam, often referred to as al-jihad al-akbar (the greater jihad), distinguishing it from external forms of jihad, such as physical combat. Perhaps, this way of Sufism, which teaches to battle against the ego, is not beneficial for a world that thrives on hatred and division.
The ‘disenchantment of the world,’ as described by philosopher Max Weber, refers to modernity’s dismissal of the supernatural, yet in the esoteric world of Sylhet, the mysticism of the Islamic universe lives on through Sufism, which, in essence, calls upon the devotee to fill the void in their soul by being at one with the creator. It is a tradition that, despite challenges, continues to offer a beacon of hope and spirituality in a world that often feels disconnected from the divine. This call of submission for the lovers of the divine was best depicted by the great Baba Farid, a 13th-century Punjab Sufi poet, who, in a couplet, writes,
Hey crow, I have a request for you
Eat my meat selectively
I request you, don’t eat my eyes
I yearn to see my Beloved
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Iqra L Qamari is a projectÌýdevelopment consultant and a writer, but more importantly, she is a Sufi enthusiast.
