In the ruins of the Kotla lived a Mast Qalandar. Every day he would walk down to the tomb of Bhure Shah in the vicinity of the Red Fort and pray to the “saint with the fiery temper”. A big-built man with a barrel of a chest and a shaggy beard, his prayers were not the silent outpourings of a heart, but the mutterings of one who had lost contact with his surroundings. He would walk up to the shrine of Hare-Bhare and beat his chimta (iron tongs) to announce his arrival. Like Zanoni, from the 1842 book of Edward Bulwer-Lytton, who had the gift of immortality, he was likened to an order of mystics who thrive for centuries.
Sufi Rafiq Khan had this tale to tell about the Mast Qalandar. When Firoze Shah Tughlak took the reins of government into his hands after the sudden death of Mohammad bin Tughkal in Sindh, he was reminded by a young fakir that the emperor had died not because of the after-effects of a dish of bad fish, but because of cruelty to his subjects. So it was Firoze’s lot to undo the harm done by his cousin. The new Sultan was impressed by the words of the fakir and brought him along to Delhi. And when he built his Kotla, a special place was marked in it as the fakir’s abode.
Firoze Shah died after a very long reign. Taimur came and devastated Delhi. The Tughlaks were ousted by the Sayyids, who in turn lost their kingdom to the Lodhis. Next came the Moghuls and the British, but the fakir was still around. In 1857, during the revolt, he was at Kashmiri Gate, encouraging the bhistis (water carriers) to carry water to the sick and wounded.
The Qalandar was seen right up to 1947, but after the riots, he just disappeared. Some said that he had migrated to Pakistan and others that he had decided to make himself scare because of the disgusting events. Nobody could imagine that he might have been killed – such was the aura that surrounded him.
Abdul Hai, a man who kept track of goings on in Delhi, and whose religious and other beliefs were tinged more by logic and reason than blind faith, had a more plausible story to offer. The Mast Qalandar was a member of an order of dervishes who lived in secluded areas, and what was better than the ruins of the Kotla? Even if one came and another passed on, we’d never know the difference.
You can still find them visiting the Jama Masjid area, especially during the Ajmer Urs, when some of them strike strident poses at the grave of Hare-Bhare, shouting ‘Maula Bhej, Bhej’ meaning, ‘Send money to visit Ajmer or I’ll break this shrine’. To supplement their threat they either lift up their chimta or pick up a huge stone. But somebody or the other always fulfils their wish and so the ‘threat’ is warded off.
It is generally assumed that the order of Mast Qalandars originated in Iran, where before the advent of Islam it was almost unknown. It came to India with the Arab invasion of Sind and its adherents spread as far as Bengal. Mast Qalandars entered South India too sometime in the 13th century, but in Delhi they have existed since the time of the Slave dynasty. Some, however, claim that the order was mostly of Afghan origin.
One remembers a Mast Qalandar who used to stand in front of the sweets shop of Haji Kalan in Jama Masjid and beat his back with a chimta from time to time. He wore a huge black shirt and was quite wild in his habits, but people were somehow attracted to him though he hardly seemed to care, and the more alms he got the wilder he became. He used to come all the way from Basti Nizamuddin on foot and lived in one of the ruined dargahs. But he is long dead.
The writer is a veteran chronicler of Delhi