(d. AD 1907; AH 1324)
Mian Muhammad Baksh was born in a village in the Mirpur District of Kashmir. Indeed, he is regarded by many Kashmiris as the Rumi of Kashmir.
Mian Muhammad’s most famous book of poetry, Saiful Muluk (1863), is not only read but sung at shrines and wherever Kashmiris are to be found. In fact, the reciters of Saiful Muluk have developed a special style of singing the verses.
Mian Muhammad also wrote many Sufi romances, notably Sohni Mahiwal (Sohni and Mahiwal) and Mirza Sahiban (Mirza and Sahiban). His poetry is written in a dialect of Punjabi and utilizes a rich vocabulary of Persian and Arabic words.
Those whom Love has chosen as its friend
Remain at peace with this affliction to the very end.
They happily scorn the throne and embrace the thorn,
They rejoice in their Love that has left them forlorn.
Quietly they sip the poisoned wine of Love’s sorrow,
Never afraid of what pain awaits them tomorrow.
In memory of their Beloved they suffer any pain
And drink the wine of sorrow happily from their Beloved’s hands.
Those who have become entranced with their Beloved’s beauty
Have no desire to be free or remove their chains.
None knows the state of their troubled soul and who to blame;
They are full of the anguish of the moth, but present themselves as the lighted flame!
On the outside they are dark, but inside carry light;
Their lips look dry with thirst, yet they bathe in springs of life.
They search far and wide, yet within them the Beloved hides;
They look deaf and dumb and blind, yet in their words meaning resides.
They embrace their Beloved day and night yet remain unsatisfied;
They cry floods of tears and remain unappeased.
They who are in love know no respite nor peace nor rest;
They stare in sleep and awakening at their Beloved’s face.
Their belief in their love consumes them wholly and completely;
Without it nothing seems attractive, neither bazaar nor garden.
Unafraid and unashamed, they openly their love proclaim;
Those who are with love afflicted care not for fame or name!
If the Beloved demands their heart, they offer it with grace;
If the Beloved wants their life, they give it up in haste.
Immersed in Love for the only one, they forget the whole world;
They cry their life away in yearning for the Beloved One.
Carrying the one Beloved in their hearts they roam town and wilderness;
Learned doctors find no cure for their healthy, incurable sickness.
Outwardly they are dust and broken twigs; inwardly they are fire!
But their cry of passion could bring down the mountain if they so desire!
Like the wind they roam across kingdoms, never to be seen;
They are silent yet spread their fragrance far and wide, like the jasmine.
Consumed by contemplation of their Beloved, unaware,
They know not East or West, nor night or day.
Oblivious of the two worlds, they care for nothing at all;
Like Heer who found her Ranjha1 and shed her burdens all.
He that has stated ‘I am closer to you’ is here within you,
While you’re searching far and wide for Him who is True!
The heart that’s devoid of Love is worse than guard dogs
Who, despite being hungry and weak, remain forever loyal.
Without Love all the praying and chastity are vain,
Until you burn with Love, you’ll not know friendship.
Those who do not have the sickness of Love will never taste the fruit of vision.
If you fall sick with the Love of God, no need for any cure.
He who is slain with this sword, he is a martyr!
He who dies for Love lives forever and hereafter!
He who has earned Love’s grace is indeed a special person;
Unless you reach this secret place, you are not really human.
The robe and recitation are vain, unless there’s light inside;
Unless Love burns your soul, these outward signs are of no use.
Swords may flash and arrows rain, the lover is fearless.
O Muhammad Baksh, Love and restraint never go together.
He never reveals Love’s secret to another, no matter what
Abuse and indignity one suffers, nor what calamity befalls.
If you want to be a lover, grab hold of your Beloved’s hem,
And if she so desires give up your life and limb right there and then.
The body only goes to heaven when it dresses up in death;
In the hope of meeting the Beloved, bear hell and death as necessary.
The lover is never hopeless, with every passing day,
He can be told off a hundred times, but will not go away.
If you desire the way of love, remove all doubt and fear.
Be hopeful and positive and your goal is very near!
Always be patient and thankful for God’s grace.
There is no other Giver but He and no other door but His.
Even if He removes thee from the throne and makes you a prisoner,
O Muhammad Baksh, you will have to plead with Him in the end.
Then comes a valley that is the valley of ONENESS.
The worshipped meets the worshipper, the Pir and Murid are ONE.
Thousands of heads joined together, come out of one collar;
It’s so tight that not even a grain of sand can pass through.
The pre-eternal and eternal are both the garments, and this collar is in-between;
Each one, however, takes its form from the same Master.
He that has not drowned in the river of Unity
May look human, but is not a man.
He who reaches Oneness goes beyond good and bad;
Good and bad are just ways of seeing.
As man reaches into himself and makes a place,
Sometimes in happiness he laughs, at others, cries in misery.
Once he comes out of himself, he’s neither happy nor sad,
From both hell’s sorrow and heaven’s delight he’s free.
Each man has in his ego hell’s snakes and scorpions,
But as he leaves his Self behind, he’s free of all dangers.
Come out of Self, else carry that hell with you,
And be bitten by the snakes and scorpions of pain.
When the searcher reaches here, he dies and lives again;
He disappears and appears again as deaf and dumb and blind.
Reason roams outside this city and cannot enter;
Anyone who discovers this mystery is free of care.
He leaves all reason behind and dances wildly
And says he does not know who he is and where he goes.
If you leave your ego behind and forget your Self,
That is the place of Oneness!
O Muhammad Baksh, who can describe it in mere words?