GULZAR-e-IBRAHEEM of HASAN

Gulzar-e-Ibraheem, or ‘Ibraheem the Rose Garden’, is a romance in Urdu written in the latter half of the 19th century, following the tradition of the great Persian work Masnavi-e-Manavi of Rumi. Not much is known about the author except that he was one Hasan, which is mentioned only in the text in soliloquies altogether in four places. The 80-page text in Urdu printed and published by Newal Kishore at Kanpur in January 1897, which was used for this translation, does not mention the name of the author either on the cover or on the mandatory declaration or in the epilogue. But by that time it had already gone through eight reprints, a clear indication of its popularity. The story has two levels: one as a sensational romance and the other as a deep discourse of Sufy philosophy of love as the highest form of devotion to God. The similarity of many of its expositions with the ideal of Bhakthi as total submission to God that Hinduism endorses will be hard to miss here. Ibraheem, son of Adhem, a Sufi Saint of 8th century A.D., is even now revered by a large section of Muslims. Though the title might suggest a focus on Ibraheem, more than half of the book’s twenty three chapters are devoted to the story of Adhem and his strange love for the Princess of Balaaq. That the book at its core is an exposition of love in its myriad forms as the Sufi ideal of true devotion to God could be the justification. Obviously, Adhem’s story, more than that of Ibraheem, offers an example of carnal love as a sublime form of devotion. The author enlarges it in the mould of a Laila – Majnu romance and uses it to flesh the otherwise dry philosophical discourses he frequently breaks into. Gulzar-e-Ibraheem belongs to the genre known in Persian literary tradition as masnavi. It followed and was almost certainly inspired by the greatest of all masnavis, the six volume composition of Jalal al-Din Muhammad Balkhi, better known as Rumi. Masnavis are romantic stories, relating to the Quran or hadith or some popular lore, composed in rhyming couplets of exquisite elegance. They are also allegories. They can be read straight as a mundane love story with the usual ingredients of twists and turns and suspense and even magic, or as an exposition of Sufi spirituality and its philosophy of love for God. In an allegory, whether to reveal the real meaning or not is the author’s choice. Revealing, however, has two advantages: The reader would not miss the meaning altogether or might not read into it unintended meanings. The author of Gulzar-e-Ibraheem also resorts to the same subterfuge of a passionate love story only to allure the readers who might miss an otherwise unappealing message. And, towards the end of the narration he says: What you see as afsana is only the goblet! The meaning, the intoxicating wine, is inside it! Why get carried away by the look of the goblet? Taste the wine inside by ever slowly sipping it! He then reveals the identity of the characters and the meaning of the events he had so far described so that the reader would not miss the wine and its intoxication. How apt is the metaphor of wine for devotion is a matter that will be appreciated only if we are familiar with the contemporary Sufi ethos.