by Brad Gooch
Whatever direction you go will be east
When I spoke with Coleman Barks by phone from his home in Athens, Georgia, he agreed with Mojadeddi that the sensational response to his own translations in English in our time has much to do with Rumi’s emphasis on ecstasy and love over religions and creeds. “I do believe that Rumi found himself going beyond traditional religion,” said Barks. “He has no use for dividing up into the different names of Christian and Jew and Muslim. It was a wild thing to say in the thirteenth century, but he said it, and he was not killed. He must have said it with such gentleness and such authority that they couldn’t attack him. None of the fundamentalists attack Rumi. They just don’t. They leave him alone because he is so beloved. There is a music of grace inside Rumi’s poems that people can hear, not physical music, a psychic music that makes them feel ecstatic.”
These exquisitely calibrated ideas and lyrics matter to many readers today then, not simply for their beauty, or even mystery, but also for truths they find helpful in their lives. One evening I had supper in a garden restaurant in lower Manhattan with Asma Sadiq, a pediatrician at Beth Israel Medical Center. Born in Pakistan, she spoke of having been brought back to her roots, as well as to a concept of mental health, by reading Rumi. “I felt befriended by Rumi,” Asma said. “It was very strange but he gave me a connection to something beyond.” Her father recited Rumi to her as a child, as well as Urdu poets, and at the time of his death, she found solace in Rumi. She also found her way back to her religion and the Quran, especially embracing Sufism, though a disaffected sister failed to see the connection: “She said to me, ‘Rumi was a gentle, smart man, a humanist. Why are you connecting him with religion?’” Going through difficult times in her personal life, she kept Rumi’s poems in her office, to read between patients: “We’re a society in love with love, but Rumi takes that love deeper and acknowledges the pain beyond the high.”
I recognized at the end of my travels a sensation present with equal force when I first discovered Rumi in my friend’s apartment in Miami two decades earlier: the texture of a voice. No matter whether in the echoing lyrics of the ghazal, the sermonic tales of the Masnavi, or his extemporaneous talks, Rumi communicated urgency and intimacy, love and humor, as well as a need to be heard, even while circling secrets. In what I might sniff at or admire in various translations something irresistibly recognizable comes through. While reticent in sharing all the minute details of his everyday life, Rumi remained open, loving, vulnerable, candid, and even confessional. His great achievement—to articulate the sound of one soul speaking:
Don’t speak so you can hear those voices
Not yet turned into words or sounds
Acknowledgments
A great benefit in writing about Rumi is being refreshed daily by his wise statements and life advice. Early on I was taken with one such line from a ghazal, which became a compass needle in the travels both geographic and literary that have engaged me for nearly eight years: “Sit close to someone with a big heart, sit in the shade of a tree with fresh leaves.” Fortunately, Rumi tends to attract scholars, curators, translators, tour guides, devotees, religious leaders, librarians, artists, musicians, and close readers with big hearts. To all of them, who are finally too numerous to name, I owe a debt of gratitude for the extended experience of sitting in the shade of this tree with fresh leaves.
Rumi’s was a big life, and the world of interest that has grown around him in over eight hundred years is immense. My predecessors in studying the life and work of Rumi include writers and scholars of such accomplishment that I could only hope their contributions register however faintly in my own language and thought. The contemporary American scholar who has devoted himself most exhaustively to Rumi is Franklin D. Lewis, chair of the Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations at the University of Chicago. His Rumi: Past and Present, East and West was my authoritative source for many of the facts of Rumi’s life. I am also grateful to Professor Lewis for taking time to have a conversation over lunch when he was in New York City. Of bygone Rumi scholars of similar stature, I am indebted to the great editor Badi al-Zaman Foruzanfar, of the University of Tehran, and to the vibrant books on the subject by Annemarie Schimmel, formerly Professor of Indo-Muslim Studies at Harvard.
Writing this biography has required many meetings with experts, several of whom have been extraordinarily generous, ignoring any impulse to territoriality in sharing their knowledge—a testament to them and, again, perhaps, to Rumi. Standing out among these is the Iranian-American novelist and essayist Salar Abdoh, codirector of the Creative Writing MFA program at the City College of New York. Dividing his time between Tehran and New York City, Salar was invaluable in finding books for me in the original Persian that were unavailable in the United States. For securing the remainder of such elusive texts through interlibrary loan, I am grateful to W. Gregory Gallagher, the diligent librarian of The Century Association. For other such guidance, I thank: Ahmad Ashraf, managing editor of Encyclopedia Iranica, Columbia University; Mohammad Batmanglij, publisher of Mage books; Dick Davis, the excellent translator of Hafez and other Persian poets; and research specialist David Smith, formerly at the New York Public Library.
As Rumi wrote and spoke in Persian and most of the contemporary accounts of his life are in Persian as well as some of the most fascinating scholarship, much still not translated, the initial phase of this project involved learning the language. For leading me through the beauties and peculiarities of Farsi my greatest debt is to the writer and native Persian speaker Maryam Mortaz, my first tutor. As the project grew, so did her role, as she was my collaborator on the translations of Rumi and other sources from the original Persian used in this biography. At the University of Texas in Austin, where I took part in the Summer Persian Language Institute in 2011, my talented instructor was Blake Atwood, with whom I subsequently studied in an online graduate-level Persian language course. At the University of Wisconsin in Madison, where I attended the Arabic Persian Turkish Language Immersion Institute in the summer of 2012, I am similarly indebted to Seyede Pouye Khoshkhoosani, Parvaneh Hosseini Fahraji, and Mehrak Kamalisarvestani. For seven years I have also studied on-and-off in the collegial evening classes of Persian taught by Fahimeh Gooran Savadkoohi at the New York University School of Continuing and Professional Studies. For guiding me to all of these programs, and for our stimulating discussions of Persian poetry over coffee, I acknowledge the esteemed literary critic and Iranologist, Mohammad Mehdi Khorrami, clinical professor of Middle Eastern and Islamic Studies at New York University.
Traveling in the lands known to Rumi requires expert help and guidance. Among those who made my travels both possible and most rewarding: the Harvard Museum of Natural History Travel Program; Dmitry Rudich at MIR Corporation in Seattle; and my guides Muzafar Ibragimov in Tajikistan, Mahmood Daryaee in Iran, and Üzeyir Özyurt in Konya, Turkey, where I was also shown around by the highly informed Dr. Naci Bakirci, associate director of the Mevlana Museum, and Dr. Nuri Şimşekler of the Selçuk University of Konya. Of helpful friends, I wish to thank: Saadi Alkouatli for his part in arranging my trip within Syria; for her advice on traveling in Central Asia, Dr. Emily Jane O’Dell; Dr. Robert Finn, formerly the United States ambassador to Afghanistan; Frederick Eberstadt; Omer Koç, for his hospitality in Istanbul and for providing me with an introduction to Esin Celebi Bayru, Rumi’s granddaughter from the twenty-second generation; and Joshua W. Walker. I am also grateful to Richard David Story, the editor in chief of Departures magazine, for commissioning the article “Turkey’s Magical Mystical Tour.”
For interviews kindly granted either in person, through email, or on Skype, I wish to thank: Coleman Barks; William Chittick, professor of Asian and Asian American Studies at Stony Brook University, to whom I was kindly introduced by his student Behrooz Karjooravary; Kabir Helminksi; Ahmet Karamustafa, professor of History at the University of Maryland; Jawid Mojaddedi, associate professor of Religion and director of Graduate
Studies, Rutgers University, and translator of The Masnavi; Asma Sadiq, M.D., director of the Division of Developmental-Behavioral Pediatrics, Beth Israel Medical Center; Professor Dr. Kelim Erkan Türkmen; travel writer and linguist Bruce Wannell; and Professor Ehsan Yarshater, founder of The Center for Iranian Studies, and Hagop Kevorkian Professor Emeritus of Iranian Studies at Columbia University.
For invaluable ongoing advice on the writing of this book, I wish to thank my perceptive friend and longtime “first reader” Barbara Heizer for her generous and characteristically insightful responses. I relied as well on my two resourceful research assistants Mariam Rahmani and Jacob Denz, and on the cartographer Anandaroop Roy for designing the accompanying maps. For expert readings of later versions of the book, I am indebted to Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, chairman of The Cordoba Initiative, Joel Conarroe, and Daniel Rafinejad. I cannot imagine this book existing in its present form without the influence at critical moments of my editor at Harper, William Strachan, as well as the early, bold, and continuous support of my publisher, Jonathan Burnham, and the tiger in my corner, my agent, Joy Harris, whose passion for this project has never wavered.
Rumi’s name will always be synonymous with love. He is the poet of love and, as he put it, “the preacher of love.” Nowhere has love been more real to me during the writing of this book than in my family, a kind of team of love. I could never decide whether my partner, Paul Raushenbush, was the Rumi in my life or the Shams, but he was certainly the loving and listening collaborator and fellow traveler in the creation of this book in more ways than I could ever spell out. The miracle of love, who happily arrived during the last year of Rumi’s Secret, our son, Walter, has by now made everything new, including writing, and the sort of reading that takes place on cardboard pages, bringing to life for us Rumi’s essential line, “Your love claps its hands, creating a hundred worlds.”
Note on Transliteration
THE guiding principle in transliterating Persian and Arabic words in this biography has been to ease the difficulties of non-specialist readers. Persian words have been rendered into Latin script according to the standard Iranian pronunciation of today. Words of Arabic origin that have entered English parlance, such as hijab or Kaaba, have retained their common spellings. Proper names of Arab historical figures have been transliterated according to a simplified version of the system used by the International Journal of Middle East Studies. Diacritic marks have been entirely omitted, except in the bibliographical citations, where a stricter system of transliteration, which adheres more closely to the titling of articles or books in library catalogues, has been used.
Glossary of Names
FAMILY
Alaoddin Mohammad. One of Rumi’s two sons by his first wife, named after Rumi’s brother.
Bahaoddin Valad, or Baha Valad. Rumi’s father.
Fateme Khatun, or Fateme. Daughter of Salahoddin; wife of Sultan Valad.
Gowhar Khatun, or Gowhar. First wife of Rumi.
Great Kerra, the. Mother of Rumi’s first wife; a Samarkand disciple of Rumi’s father.
Kerra Khatun, or Kerra. Second wife of Rumi.
Kimiya. In harem of Rumi; wife of Shams of Tabriz.
Kimiya Khatun, or Kimiya. Stepdaughter of Rumi; daughter of Kerra Khatun.
Maleke Khatun. Rumi’s daughter, with Kerra Khatun.
Momene Khatun, or Momene. Rumi’s mother, one of Bahaoddin Valad’s wives.
Mozaffaroddin Amir Alem Chelebi. Rumi’s third son, with Kerra Khatun.
Shamsoddin Yahya. Stepson of Rumi, son of Kerra Khatun.
Sultan Valad, or Bahaoddin Mohammad. One of Rumi’s two sons by his first wife.
Ulu Amir Aref Chelebi, or Jalaloddin Faridun. Rumi’s grandson, son of Sultan Valad and Fateme.
FRIENDS
Badroddin Gowhartash. Fortress commander, built madrase in Konya for Rumi’s family.
Borhanoddin Mohaqqeq, or Borhan. Born in Termez, Rumi’s tutor, godfather, and guide.
Gorji Khatun, “the Georgian lady,” or Tamar. Noblewoman, devotee of Rumi.
Hosamoddin Chelebi, or Hosam. Rumi’s final beloved companion; wrote down Masnavi.
Ibnal-Adim. Poet, historian, and diplomat, as well as Rumi’s prime teacher in Aleppo.
Sadroddin Qonavi. Godson of Ibn Arabi; in Konya, taught a path of mystical knowledge.
Salahoddin Zarkub, or Salah. Goldsmith; Rumi’s beloved companion after Shams.
Serajoddin Ormovi. Religious judge in Konya during Rumi’s mature years.
Shamsoddin, Shams of Tabriz, or Shams. Rumi’s beloved companion, and the “face of the sun.”
POETS AND WRITERS
Attar. An herbal apothecary, in Nishapur; wrote The Conference of the Birds.
Jami. Fifteenth-century Naqshabandi Sufi poet of Khorasan.
Khayyam, Omar. Twelfth-century mathematician from Nishapur, famous for his robaiyyat.
al-Mutanabbi. Major eleventh-century Arabic poet, a lifelong favorite of Rumi.
Nezami. Court poet in Azerbaijan; wrote classic romance in couplets, Layli and Majnun.
Rudaki. Tenth-century innovative poet in Bukhara said to have invented the robai form.
Sanai. From Ghazna, Central Afghanistan; adapted courtly forms for spiritual subjects.
Yaqut. Muslim geographer and travel writer; a contemporary of Rumi.
POLITICAL FIGURES
Alaoddin Kayqobad I. Seljuk Sultan (r. 1219–37); invited Rumi’s family to Konya.
Alaoddin Kayqobad II. Seljuk Sultan (r. 1246–57). Youngest son of Kaykhosrow II, his mother was the Georgian princess Gorji Khatun; died on mission to the Mongol court.
Aminoddin Mikail. A treasury official and viceroy, his wife was a disciple of Rumi.
Ezzoddin Kaykaus II. Seljuk Sultan (r. 1246, or 1248–60). Eldest of three sons of Kaykhosrow II, his mother was the daughter of a Greek priest.
Ghengis Khan (c. 1162–1227). Founder and Great Khan of the Mongol Empire.
Ghiasoddin Kaykhosrow II, Seljuk Sultan (r. 1237–46) married to Gorji Khatun.
Ghiasoddin Kaykhosrow III (r. 1264–82), Seljuk Sultan set up, when no more than seven years old, by the Parvane.
Hulagu Khan (c. 1218–1265). Grandson of Ghenghis Khan; conquered much of western Asia and led the siege and attack on Damascus.
Khwarazmshah, Alaoddin Mohammad, b. Takesh (r. 1200–1220). Ruler of Khwarazm, in Central Asia, during Rumi’s childhood; besieged Samarkand.
Moinoddin Solayman Parvane (“The Butterfly”). Statesman, and de facto ruler of Seljuk Anatolia during the period of the Mongol protectorate; married to Gorji Khatun.
Nezam al-Molk. Eleventh-century Seljuk vizier; founded Nezamiyye University in Baghdad; patron of Omar Khayyam, and author of a handbook on statecraft.
Roknoddin, Qelij Arslan IV (r. 1246–64), Seljuk Sultan. Second son of Kaykhosrow II, his mother was a Greek slave and concubine. Apparently murdered at a banquet.
RELIGIOUS FIGURES
Bayazid Bestami. Ninth-century Sufi; promoted a “drunken” School of Sufism.
Fakhroddin Razi of Herat. Muslim analytic philosopher and preacher disliked by Rumi’s father.
al-Ghazali, Abu Hamed Mohammad. Eleventh-century luminary of Nezamiyye College, Baghdad; rejected logical philosophy in his The Revival of the Religious Sciences.
al-Ghazali, Ahmad. Radical Sufi poet and mystic; brother of Mohammad al-Ghazali.
al-Hallaj, Mansur. Tenth-century ecstatic or “drunken” Sufi, executed in Baghdad.
Ibn Arabi. Spanish-born Arab mystic; wrote Meccan Revelations, a synthesis of mystical thought in Rumi’s era; taught in Damascus and Aleppo.
Jonayd. Tenth-century Sufi; promoted the “sober” School of Baghdad.
Glossary of Terms
Abbasid. The third of the Islamic caliphates to succeed the Prophet Mohammad, the Abbasids ruled mostly from their capital in Baghdad in modern-day Iraq after assuming authority from the Umayyads in the eighth century.
akhavan. A sodality of c
raftsmen, laborers, and merchants, similar to early guilds, with overtones of chivalry and brotherhood.
Ayyubid. A Muslim dynasty founded by Saladin and centered in Egypt with sultans often vying for power in Syria and other parts of the Middle East.
Baba. Religious figures, often accompanying Turkmen immigrating to Anatolia from Central Asia.
caliph. A term meaning “deputy” or “successor” of the Prophet Mohammad after his death, applied to the governing religious leader of Muslims.
caravanserai. A roadside inn, also known as a han.
chelle. Sufi initiatory practice of an extended period of isolation from the world.
dervish. The Turkish version of a Persian word for those who renounced the world, or for the poor in God; commonly used for Sufis.
divan. A collection of poems.
fatwa. A ruling of a religious scholar on questions of Islamic jurisprudence.
fotovvat. A widespread brotherhood within Islam, which included some caliphs as members, and combined chivalric morals and a set of ethics with Sufi mysticism as well as a touch of militant power.
ghazal. Lyrical, rhymed poems, often on romantic themes, sometimes including radif, or repeated words or phrases at the end of each line, and not usually exceeding sixteen lines.
hadith. Recorded sayings or teachings of the Prophet Mohammad.
hajj. The annual pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca, incumbent on able Muslims at least once in a lifetime.
harem. Separate quarters for women and young children in a traditional Muslim household.
hazl. Bawdy Persian poems featuring course satire and vulgar language.
jinn. Invisible, mischievous spirits, or genies.
Kaaba. The most sacred shrine in Islam, located in the courtyard of the Great Mosque at Mecca, and believed to have been built by the patriarch Abraham.
khaneqah. A Sufi lodge.