In the Bazaar of Love: The Selected Poetry of Amir Khusrau (Penguin Hardback Classics)

by Sunil Sharma

  One wins something when the time is right—don’t think that with extra effort things can speed up. Khizr Khān sent a friend to plead his case before his mother Malika Jahān, arguing that she shouldn’t let her bias for her niece override her son’s desire; besides, men—and especially kings—can have more than one wife. Malika Jahān finally relented and Duval Rānī was recalled from the Red Palace. The two were married in a discreet wedding ceremony and their patience was finally rewarded. For the wedding night she looked so ravishing and beautiful that words cannot describe the sight.

  With her eyes she broke the hearts of Turkestan,

  with her hair she bought up all of Hindustan.

  If a Khurasani pheasant is fine, an Indian peacock has no peer. One who is endowed with beauty by God needs no ornament on her body. As Khizr Khān gazed upon Duval, the garments were torn from her soul. He clung to her like a hunting falcon to its prey and embraced her cypress form like a rose petal in a tight bud. The diamond tip was ready to drill into the pearl, a challenging task, for the pearl was not pierced, but the tool was hard. The jeweller was ardent in his job and poured pearls into the red gem-casket. It was as if Khizr sated himself in the dark waters. When their passion abated they dallied and cherished each other. The lovemaking continued all night until morning, and the two lovers remained in each other’s arms in a drunken passion.

  Khizr Khān did not forget to give thanks for the grace he had received, and in the morning offered his prayers. He joined the ranks of the followers of the spiritual master of the age, Nizāmuddīn Auliyā.

  Since love was his essence from head to toe,

  he became the favourite of pious mystics.

  Love was manifest in his temperament,

  which was a guide on the bridge of truth.

  As with Yūsuf, love and beauty came together;

  in one body he was both beloved and lover.

  In his devotion to the master he purified his life and gave up earthly pleasures.

  As time passed, the hand of fate changed circumstances again, for in one instant it can turn a hundred kings to dervishes. If there is respect for love in one’s heart, then honour is no better than disgrace. As it turned out, Sultan ‘Alāuddīn Khaljī became seriously ill and there was no cure for his fever. Khizr Khān, the sapling of that garden, vowed that if his father’s condition improved he would visit all the Sufi shrines on foot. Miraculously, the sultan became better and the prince cheerfully set off to Hastinapur on his pilgrimage. But he had made a major oversight: he had neglected to receive the blessings of his pīr Nizmuddīn Auliyā. Sadly, he had also lapsed in his abstinence and started carousing. Finally, as he was walking, his feet got blisters and he was persuaded to ride the rest of the way when he should have been on foot. The eunuch Malik Kāfūr, who had been waiting for his chance, poisoned the sultan against both Khizr Khān and Alp Khān. The latter was put to death immediately, while the prince was ordered by the sultan to proceed to Amroha and send back the royal insignia. The naïve Khizr Khān was grieved by the king’s behaviour but complied obediently. In his detention he cried and summoned minstrels to sing for him, and the sound of the harp matched his mood. He thought to himself that since he was innocent and was his father’s favourite, he had nothing to fear; in any case, his tears would intercede for him. Like the wind he took off for the capital and arrived back in Delhi and went before his father. The sultan embraced him and accepted him back into the palace.

  The evil Malik Kāfūr was not happy about this reconciliation and further conspired to get the sultan to incarcerate the prince in Gwalior Fort for a month. Even though it grieved the sultan immensely to take this action he believed it was the expedient thing to do. The effect on Khizr Khān was terrible and the people were also upset. One should not blame everything on fate, for humans have a mind and sense too. But a king’s command is written on stone and even if the mountain moves he will not waver from his command. Malik Kāfūr, however, was made to agree that no harm would come to the prince. The crafty minister agreed to the terms and led the prince away to his palanquin. In the Gwalior prison Khizr Khān was like a ruby hidden in a stone, but Duval Rānī was by his side to comfort him. Constantly together, they had no other companions and entertained each other with songs and stories.

  One should not be happy with the colours and scents of the garden that is the world; for a strong, fierce wind has destroyed many such flowers. Don’t be like those weak kings who leave behind the treasure of Shaddād; be a beggar like Khusrau who left behind a good name.

  If you want a treasure in the afterlife,

  you need a good name in this one—that’s all.

  At this appointed hour, the sultan died soon after and Khizr Khān’s grief increased. Scarcely had the sultan been buried than the seditious Malik Kāfūr took over the reins of the kingdom as regent. He immediately sent the eunuch Malik Sumbul to blind the prince. Although the order had come from an enemy unworthy of the throne, Khizr Khān bore this terrible outcome with fortitude. Ashamed of what he had done, Sumbul nevertheless went back to Delhi where he was rewarded by Kāfūr. But very soon, the ingrate Malik Kāfūr was put to death for his wicked deeds, for there is a pact between salt and the sword.

  Khizr Khān’s brother, Mubārak Shāh, became the new sultan of Delhi and was ill-disposed towards his brothers. He also sent a message to Khizr Khān demanding Duval Rānī as his slave since he had heard so much about her beauty. Khizr Khān was furious and responded, ‘Since fortune has deserted me, Duval Rānī is my only wealth. You want to take even this away from me—you will have to cut off my head first.’ This refusal upset the king and he at once dispatched someone to kill Khizr Khān. When the lowly murderer entered the fort of Gwalior the women began to wail loudly. It was as if the day of resurrection had come as a guest in paradise. Like a butcher he began to slaughter all those young lions. First the younger brother Shādī Khān was killed, and then it was Khizr Khān’s turn. Even though he bravely tried to defend himself his head was cut off in one blow.

  When fate’s sword cuts short one’s aspirations,

  neither the sun nor the moon can intervene.

  The celestial gardener had opened the door of paradise and all the houris were waiting to greet the martyrs.

  For Duval Rānī the water of life had turned into the sword of doom. When Khizr Khān was buried, his soul lingered around his beloved and addressed her:

  My soul and the disturber of my soul,

  for your sake my life ended, as did my world.

  A tree of affection will grow from the earth

  wherever my pure body shed blood.

  The end of life is not death. Death is

  being far from those one loves.

  In the grave, I am not Prince Khusrau, but Farhād,

  with a mountain of grief over my heart.

  Khizr Khān was buried in the Vijay temple in Gwalior Fort as a ruby is hidden in a stone. Duval Rānī was in deep mourning, and it was as if her falling tears of blood became henna on her hands. She twisted the lock of hair that her lover had given her in her hands and wanted to die. She sought his heart in the lock of hair and it became the source of life to her. But since the departed do not return, grief only causes suffering to the body. One should construct an edifice of a pure heart and leave aside earthly materials. If you don’t know what is good and bad in every matter, take a lesson from this story and learn the way of love. This tale was written with the blood of lovers and every line of it holds secrets. For Khizr Khān and Duval Rānī were two flowers blooming in one garden, happy like wild roses, not like tulips with brands on their hearts.

  Dry rituals won’t provide you the water you desire,

  to perform godly deeds you must depend on love.

  80 The Tale of the Camphor Princess

  This story is from the masnavī Hasht bihisht (Eight Paradises) that Kāfūrī, the Princess of Khvarazm, tells the Persian king Bahrām Gūr on Friday while they are in the camphor-coloured
pavilion.

  In Khotan there lived a wise philosopher,

  expert in interpreting the secrets of the stars.

  It seems that the sky was his board

  for the reckoning of mysteries.

  One time he discovered the trick

  of making lifeless objects speak.

  The sage cleverly made a doll

  of iron, copper, silver and gold.

  It revealed all the secrets of the world

  and told him about hidden matters. [5]

  He even made a bird that sang,

  flying through the air as if alive.

  His keen and scientific mind

  learned the ways of high heaven.

  Once he made a brass-and-copper statue

  that laughed at anything that was untrue.

  When the machine was ready,

  he thoroughly tested its efficacy.

  He took it before the king of the land

  who praised and took it for his own. [10]

  The king too tested it until

  he was familiar with its skill.

  He rewarded the inventor with a treasure

  that none had received ever before.

  Then he had the idol brought

  to his bedchamber with haste.

  When he was finished with his duties

  he cast a glance in its direction

  and recounted a false story—lo!

  right away the statue began to laugh. [15]

  Now it was the king’s custom

  to shun women and marriage.

  He had read in books by wise men

  that women’s wiles had no end.

  They’re never free of cruelty

  and in their hearts there is no fidelity;

  before their husbands, like a mirror,

  they are cold and hard of heart.

  One day feeling the primal urge,

  he confided the matter to his vizier. [20]

  The experienced man said in answer,

  ‘An unguarded treasure is a blunder.

  When a man is intelligent and wise,

  why should there be strife with his wife?

  As long as the policeman is alert,

  robbers cannot tunnel into a fort.

  When a lord stumbles drunk through the market

  it’s wrong to complain of the pickpocket.

  You are young and this is part of nature;

  There’s no avoiding the harem’s pleasure. [25]

  A man without a wife begets no heir.

  There is no pearl without an oyster.

  For a king not blessed with any children

  it is wrong to leave his kingdom heirless.

  It is best that you fulfil your desire

  and bring a moon into your chamber.

  Don’t restrict yourself to one attempt

  for a single planting does not bear fruit.

  Don’t be a king who is less than a rabbit—

  the latter is never without three or four mates. [30]

  Find a fitting partner for yourself

  and try her out as she ought to be.

  Above all, do what is best for yourself

  and forget about everyone else.’

  Taking the matter to heart, the king

  went out seeking some fine women.

  He searched throughout the town and the country,

  gathering reports from all and sundry

  about those who were veiled

  from the gaze of the rulers of the land. [35]

  When he saw signs of what he was looking for

  and was duly informed from all sides,

  he appointed certain functionaries

  known for wisdom and expertise.

  Each one would bring to the king

  a pearl to make up his string,

  offering gold, cloths, gems and perfumes,

  all kinds of services and wondrous things.

  Then according to his command

  everyone hastened to every side, [40]

  travelling day and night

  to every prince and potentate.

  They poked their head under every veil

  for her who could be the king’s mate.

  At last four daughters of fortune

  set off for the factory of fate.

  The men returned happily satisfied,

  having attained their wish manifold.

  Upon arrival they went before the king

  in order to pay their respects to him. [45]

  Ceremoniously they made obeisance

  and presented the four brides in palanquins.

  The king, pleased with their service,

  expressed to them his sincere thanks.

  He rewarded each one with gold

  and elevated them even more in rank.

  Then with riches and blandishment

  he sent the ladies off to the harem.

  The king had a paradisal palace,

  with foundations in heaven itself. [50]

  On four sides picturesque edifices

  had been built in the proper ways.

  On one side in a garden of shady trees

  a broad and mighty river flowed.

  A staircase came down from the palace

  for the king to access the riverside.

  There was a path on the second side

  at the bottom of which was a gate.

  A staircase came down to this door

  for the king to go quickly to the stables. [55]

  On the third side was a grazing ground

  filled with large camels inside and out.

  Another staircase came down to this place

  for the lion-king to sport with his camels.

  On the fourth side was a tavern

  filled with sāqīs like the moon and the sun.

  Well appointed, it was a house

  with four chambers for four beauties.

  When night was as still as a bride’s ornaments

  and the roosters rested from their plaints, [60]

  the king hastened from his court

  and made for slumber’s picture gallery.

  He ordered his servants

  to bring forth the brides.

  Those sugar-lipped lovelies arrived,

  tossing their ambergris tresses about.

  A veil covered their heads,

  bejewelled from tip to toe.

  All were long-limbed with long tresses,

  and their long, proud gait strained their hips. [65]

  On their ears were pearl and carnelian,

  but their treasure untouched by any man.

  Musky tresses framing faces so fair

  a hundred hearts caught by every hair.

  Their artful and intoxicated eyes

  would singe the pious and break their resolve.

  Each one was playful but cruel—

  a home-wrecker, and set to kill.

  When the king saw those bright eyes

  he lost his senses and patience. [70]

  He summoned each one up to him

  and seated them upon the throne.

  For a bit he indulged in fun and sport

  and succumbed to their magical spells.

  Then from among those four Chinese dolls

  he picked one to take to his bed.

  The others arose and withdrew

  to their chambers with all due grace.

  When the king saw the rose without a thorn

  his hundred-year quest was instantly won. [75]

  He was all sugar and sweet smiles

  stealing kisses and scattering roses.

  He rubbed his finger upon the small apple

  and held the juicy pomegranate in his fist.

  In the course of fun and games

  that stole the garden’s fruits and flowers,

  with a fragrant flower between his fingers

  he stroked the face of that lovely cypress.

  Suddenly the delicate lady swooned,

&
nbsp; seeing which the king cried out. [80]

  Witnessing this farcical scene

  the magical figure laughed from afar.

  The king recovered some of his wits

  and began to ponder the situation.

  As he got up to leave her in her faint,

  he glanced right and left in confusion.

  When he happened to look that way

  his eye fell upon that seditious idol.

  He saw the brazen image standing,

  put together by skilful alchemy. [85]

  Hiding under her veil, the beauty

  protested that the statue was trespassing.

  That cackling contraption of wonder

  again opened its mouth in laughter.

  Doubt filled the king’s heart anew,

  as his confusion about the event grew.

  Rolling up the secret inside his heart,

  he dallied with the damsel until dawn.

  Whenever the idol broke into laughter,

  the lady’s smile would disappear. [90]

  The king ordered a tower for her

  that was built close by the stables.

  That place was properly appointed,

  fitting for a young new bride.

  Then he ordered the palace guardian

  to fetch another cypress to the throne.

  In a kingly manner, guided by fate,

  he sat on the throne with another bride.

  She was a killer, slaying with her airs;

  he began to kiss and play with her hair. [95]

  Suddenly he took her in his arms

  and covered her back with ermine.

  When the king rubbed the fur against her skin,

  she broke out into a rash of itching.

  Irritated by the ermine, she fled

  like lightning from a cloud.

  She cried, ‘My back is covered with bites;

  the fur has killed me with its prickliness!’

  Once again the artful beauty was all smiles;

  the king was beset with a multitude of doubts. [100]

  He renewed his intimacy with her,

  a fake game played with the faker.

  He said, ‘Bravo! May this body rejoice

  from the fur that was like needles.

  Your body is very sensitive—