Central Asian Pilgrims: Hajj Routes and Pious Visits between Central Asia and the Hijaz [1 ed.] 9783879973996

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Papas / Welsford / Zarcone (eds.) Central Asian Pilgrims

ISLAMKUNDLICHE UNTERSUCHUNGEN • BAND 308 begründet von Klaus Schwarz herausgegeben von Gerd Winkelhane

ISLAMKUNDLICHE UNTERSUCHUNGEN • BAND 308

Alexandre Papas / Thomas Welsford / Thierry Zarcone (eds.)

Central Asian Pilgrims Hajj Routes and Pious Visits between Central Asia and the Hijaz

Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Bibliothek Die Deutsche Bibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet über http://dnb.ddb.de abrufbar. British Library Cataloguing in Publication data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. http://www.bl.uk Library of Congress control number available http://www.loc.gov

Cover illustration: Pilgrims on train for Mecca (ca. 1900-1920) Courtesy of the Library of Congress, LC-M32-A-357

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To our Japanese colleagues and friends March 2011

Contents

Notes on contributors............................................................................................9 Notes on transliteration.......................................................................................12 Introduction Alexandre Papas, Thomas Welsford and Thierry Zarcone............................13 Part I. Sufis on Hajj Hamid Algar Tarîqat and Tarîq: Central Asian Naqshbandîs on the Roads to the Haramayn...................................................................................................21 Necdet Tosun Hajj from the Sufi Point of View......................................................................136 Part II. The Trajectories of Hajj Thomas Welsford The Re-opening of Iran to Central Asian Pilgrimage Traffic, 1600–1650..............................................................................................................149 Norihiro Naganawa The Hajj Making Geopolitics, Empire, and Local Politics: A View from the Volga-Ural Region at the Turn of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries...................................................................................168 Alexandre Papas Following Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, a Tatar Globetrotter on the Way to Mecca..........................................................................................199 Part III. Books of Pilgrimage (hajjnâma) Shovosil Ziyodov The Hajjnâmas from the Manuscript Collection of the Oriental Institute at the Academy of Sciences of Uzbekistan....................................................223 Sharifa Tosheva The Pilgrimage Books of Central Asia: Routes and Impressions (19th and early 20th centuries).........................................................................234

Part IV. From Hajj to Pious Visits (ziyârat) Thierry Zarcone Pilgrimage to the “Second Meccas” and “Ka‘bas” of Central Asia...........251 Minoru Sawada Pilgrimage to Sacred Places in the Taklamakan Desert: Shrines of Imams in Khotan Prefecture.........................................................278 Allen J. Frank Some Political Features of Finno-Ugrian and Muslim Hagiolatry in the Volga-Ural Region...................................................................................295 Index......................................................................................................................312

Notes on contributors

Hamid ALGAR is Professor Emeritus of Persian and Islamic Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. He has published widely on various topics relating to the religious history of the Iranian and Turkic worlds, especially Shi‘ism in the modern and contemporary periods and the Sufi orders, primarily the Naqshbandiyya. His first book was Religion and State in Iran, 1785-1906: The Role of the ‘Ulama in the Qajar period, first published in 1969 and subsequently translated into Persian. He has conducted research on the Naqshbandiyya in a broad range of countries, from Bosnia to Malaysia, and written numerous articles on the subject, collected in Turkish translation in Nakșibendîlik (İnsan Yayınları, 2007). He is currently working on a comprehensive study of ‘Abd al-Rahman Jami. Allen J. FRANK’s publications include Muslim Religious Institutions in Imperial Russia: the Islamic World of Novouzensk District and the Kazakh Inner Horde (Brill, 2001) and, as co-editor, An Islamic Biographical Dictionary of the Eastern Steppe, 1770-1912. Qurbān ‘Alī Khālidī (Brill, 2005) and The Cambridge History of Inner Asia: the Chinggisid Age (Cambridge University Press, 2009). His areas of specialisation include 19th- and 20th-century Kazakh Islamic manuscripts. He lives in Takoma Park, Maryland. Norihiro NAGANAWA is Assistant Professor at the Slavic Research Center, Hokkaido University, Sapporo, Japan. He obtained his Ph.D. from the University of Tokyo in 2007 with his dissertation “Muslim Society and State in the Late Imperial Russia: the Volga-Ural Region, 1905-1917.” He is a co-editor of Volgo-Ural’skii region v imperskom prostranstve: XVIII-XX vv. (Vostochnaia Literatura, 2011). His article “Holidays in Kazan: Public Sphere and Politics over Religious Authority among Tatars in 1914” is forthcoming in Slavic Review. His current research is on the history of the hajj from Russia from the nineteenth to twenty first centuries and the Soviet involvement in the Middle East in the 1920s and 30s. Alexandre PAPAS, Research Fellow (Chargé de Recherche) at the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS) in Paris, is a historian of Islamic Central Asia. His researches focus on Islam and Sufism in Central Asia and the neighbouring regions (Western China and Northern India) from the sixteenth century to present. He is the author of Soufisme et politique entre Chine, Tibet et Turkestan (Jean Maisonneuve, 2005), Mystiques et vagabonds en islam (Cerf, 2010), and Voyage au pays

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des Salars (Cartouche, 2011). He is currently working on a book on Islam among the Uyghurs. Minoru SAWADA is Professor at the University of Toyama in Japan. He specialises in the early modern history of Central Asia, especially Eastern Turkestan (nowadays Xinjiang). Since 1998 he has also conducted a number of fieldwork surveys on the sacred places (mazars) of Central Asia. His publications include Silk Roadology 28 (Bulletin of the Research Center for Silk Roadology), Islamic Sacred Places in Central Asia: The Ferghana Valley and Kashghar Region (The Nara International Foundation, 2007) (in Japanese; co-author), and Addendum to Tārīkh-i Rashīdī, Translation and Annotation with Introduction and Indexes (Tokyo University, 2008) (in Japanese; co-author). Sharifa TOSHEVA is a Junior Researcher at the Al-Beruni Institute for Oriental Studies, Uzbekistan. Her main fields of scholarly interest relate to the historiography of the late Mangit empire, craft statutes (risala) and the development of reformist ideas in the Bukharan Emirate. She has participated in several manuscript catalogues and published the following works: “Sadr Ziyoning ‘Ro’znoma’ asari tarixiy manba sifatida.” in O’zbekiston tarixining dolzarb muammolariga yangi chizgilar (Sharq 1999) (as Sh. Esanova); Sadr al-Din ‘Ayni. Bukhara inqilabining ta’rikhi (The University of Tokyo, 2010) (co-author with Sh. Shimada). Necdet TOSUN is an Associate Professor at the Faculty of Theology of Marmara University in Turkey. His main field is Sufism in Central Asia, the Indian subcontinent and the Ottoman world. He has published several books: Bahaeddin Nakşbend: Hayatı, Görüşleri, Tarikatı (İnsan Yayınları, 2002), İmam-ı Rabbani Ahmed Sirhindi: Hayatı, Eserleri, Tasavvufi Görüşleri (İnsan Yayınları, 2006) and Türkistan Dervişlerinden Yadigar: Orta Asya Türkçesiyle Yazılmış Tasavvufi Eserler (İnsan Yayınları, 2011). Thomas WELSFORD is a VolkswagenStiftung Fellow at the Martin-Luther-University in Halle, Germany, and a Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford. In 2008 he completed a DPhil thesis entitled “Loyalty, Welfare and Selfhood in Early-Modern Central Asia: The Tuqay-Timurid Takeover of Greater Ma wara al-nahr, ca. 1598-1605”, and together with Nuryog’di Toshev, Masudxon Ismoilov and Hamidulla Aminov he is currently preparing for publication by UNESCO a catalogue of Arabic-script legal documents held in the Samarkand Provincial Museum, Uzbekistan. Thierry ZARCONE is Senior Researcher (Directeur de Recherches) at the Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique in Paris (GSRL – Groupe Société Religion Laï-

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cité). His areas of expertise include the history of Sufi lineages, saint veneration and Shamanism in the Ottoman Empire, Turkey, Central Asia, and Chinese Turkestan in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. His book Mystiques, philosophes et francs-maçons en Islam (Jean Maisonneuve, 1993) was awarded the Prix Saintour of the Académie des Sciences Morales et Politiques. His most recent books are Sufi Pilgrims from Central Asia and India in Jerusalem (Kyoto University, 2009), Le Soufisme, voie mystique de l’islam (Gallimard, 2009), and Poétesses soufies de la confrérie bektachie (Signatura, 2010). He is currently editing (with Angela Hobart) a book on Shamanism and Islam: Sufism, Healing Rituals and Spirits (Tauris, 20112012). Shovosil ZIYODOV is a Research Fellow at the Al-Beruni Institute for Oriental Studies, Uzbekistan. He works mainly on Arabographic manuscripts, lithographs, documents and their significance for the study of Islam in Central Asia. Besides collaborating on several manuscript catalogues, he has published a number of articles, such as “L’horizon intellectuel d’un érudit du XVe siècle: nouvelles découvertes sur la bibliothèque de Muhammad Pârsâ,” Cahiers d’Asie centrale, 7 (1999) (co-author with A. Muminov), and “Taschkenter Handschriften über das Milieu bucharischer Theologen in 13. und 14. Jahrhunderten,” Manuscripta Orientalia, 9:3 (2003).

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Notes on transliteration

All Arabic or Persian words found in an unabridged English dictionary are treated as English words, that is to say without italicisation or diacritics (e.g., hajj, shaykh, Sunni, madrasa, Hadith). All other transliterated words and phrases are italicised and all long vowels are indicated with a circumflex. Diacritics have been omitted. The ta marbuta is not written with an h, e.g., ma‘rifa, not ma‘rifah. The adjectival -ya followed by ta marbuta is written -iyya. Proper names follow different transcriptions according to geographical provenance and conventional usage (e.g., Abû al-Qâsim, but Abû’l-Khayrid; ‘Abd al-‘Azîz Bukhârî, but Sultan Abdülaziz). For Ottoman Turkish, we use the modern Turkish orthography (Redhouse Yeni Türkçe-Ingilizce Sözlük. Istanbul: Redhouse Yayınevi). For Central Asian Turkic languages, the vowels ä, e, ï, ö and ü are indicated.

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Introduction

Alexandre Papas, Thomas Welsford, Thierry Zarcone The subject of this book lies in the interstices between two conventional fields of enquiry: Central Asian Islam and hajj. While discussion of the former frequently conceives of Central Asian Islam as a rigidly self-bounded entity, necessarily distinct in its local features from other regionalised webs of beliefs and practices in the Muslim world, discussion of hajj by contrast often betrays its reliance on Islamic normative sources in conceptualising its subject as the globally uniform iteration of mandated practice. By examining here the specific experiences of Muslims on hajj, the trans-regional networks which they established to facilitate pilgrimage, and the impact – whether religious, social or political – of the encounters which they had with other groups and communities along the journey, we hope to substitute for such essentialising or universalising tendencies a keener sense of how ‘local Islam’ and ‘global Islam’ were mutually constituted. The study of pilgrimage from and within Central Asia allows particularly rich scope for such investigation. Throughout medieval, modern and contemporary history, Central Asian pilgrims have come from a wide variety of local backgrounds and social milieus; in departing for the Hijaz, furthermore, Central Asian pilgrims have often embarked upon projects extending far beyond the ‘mere’ fulfilment of religious duty. By examining some of the differing trajectories followed by such pilgrims, we hope that this collection of essays may highlight some of the trans-regional conjunctures and confrontations which helped to shape Central Asian Islam. At a time, meanwhile, when Islam is all too often perceived as a static and monolithic religion, we additionally hope that the collection may cast a perspective upon the variegated dynamics of cross-cultural interaction at the congregational hubs of the Muslim world. The book is arranged in four sections, each devoted to a distinct theme and affording a particular perspective upon some of the larger issues outlined above. The first section is devoted to the conception and practice of hajj among Sufis. The importance of the religious, cultural and socio-political contribution of Sufi tradition to the development of Central Asian Islam is sufficiently widely recognised to require little assertion. It may nevertheless bear emphasising that Sufis were also a numerous presence along the routes of hajj, and that they exercised tremendous influence on patterns of pilgrimage. Historians have drawn upon oral and written hagiographic accounts of pilgrimage experiences for their exceptional wealth of factual detail, while local Central Asian audiences and readerships have long utilised such sources as guides for their own geographical and spiritual journeys.

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The first essay, by Hamid Algar, is logically thus in many respects the necessary opening to this book. Drawing on a wide range of sources, Algar’s comprehensive study retraces the conception and practice of hajj by the Naqshbandîs — by far the most important Sufi group in the region — from the fourteenth century to the present. The paper begins by situating the obligation of the fifth pillar alongside the Sufi conception of the spiritual quest, and examining the congruence between the rigours of the hajj journey and Sufi disciplines of self-mastery. Algar then considers how, with the blessing of the Ottoman authorities, the Naqshbandîs established a support network for pilgrims — whether Sufis or otherwise — along the socalled Iranian route from Central Asia, with a system of lodges (tekke) in Istanbul, Tarsus, Bursa, Damascus, Aleppo, Jerusalem and the Haramayn. The second itinerary, known as the Indian route, was used extensively by the Ahrârî branch of the Naqshbandiyya, and subsequently by the Mujaddidîs who, as early as the eighteenth century, expanded westward in considerable numbers. In the nineteenth century, however, the eastward expansion of the European empires presented a new set of political obstacles for pilgrims travelling west to the Hijaz. Although technological advances in transportation increasingly facilitated long-distance travel, the twentieth century witnessed a further proliferation of such obstacles, as various regimes hostile to the tarîqats set about dismantling most of the provisions which had hitherto facilitated the journey to the Haramayn. Faced with such challenges, Central Asian Sufis have shown great resilience in redeploying their networks in order to preserve and secure old and news lines of access to hajj. At the same time, they have continued to invest value in the practice of pious visitation, or ziyârat, for instance to the shrine of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband near Bukhara: not as a substitution for hajj, but as a complementary stage in an ongoing spiritual journey. The exceptional breadth and detail of Hamid Algar’s essay is perhaps as clear a testimony as any to the importance which Sufis accorded to hajj, and to its memorialisation in the hagiographic tradition. By way of a literary counterpoint to this first paper, Necdet Tosun explores the genres of symbolic anecdote and mystical poetry to consider some of the deeper meanings which Sufis assigned to hajj. Using a large number of texts in Arabic, Persian and Turkish, he explores a variety of such ideas, ranging from the relatively exoteric – the notion of hajj as an opportunity for mutual betterment, for instance – to the esoteric: the idea of the search for the Ka‘ba of the heart, the spiritual meaning of ihrâm and, ultimately, the attainment of spiritual ecstasy through pilgrimage. In the last part of the paper, Tosun examines some such accounts of ecstatic revelation reported by eminent Sufis during the hajj, and considers how such accounts were subsequently utilised by disciples and successors as guides for practical emulation, and by biographers as sources for hagiographic life-writing.

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The second section details the geographical and historical trajectories of Central Asian pilgrims, with reference to three case studies anchored in the events respectively of the seventeenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In addition to Sufis, a range of other “lay” believers similarly braved the difficulties and dangers of transcontinental travel to make their way to the Hijaz. At each stage of their journey, pious travellers traversed social strata, negotiated cultural and political frontiers, and intersected with the very course of world events. Necessitating as it does the crossing of multiple boundaries, the performance of hajj necessitates multiple acts of transgression: and hajj has often been feared by authority as a threat to systems of order. The papers in this second section consider the idea of hajj as a destabilising and/or generative force, and consider how external circumstances might in turn modify perceptions of the meaning of hajj. Thomas Welsford explores this interwoven problematic by exploring a shift in Central Asian pilgrimage routes over the course of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Carefully read, a range of Persian-language chronicles suggest that the early years of the seventeenth century saw a revival in the use by Sunni Central Asians of the Iranian pilgrimage route, which for most of the sixteenth century had been in abeyance following the Shi‘i Safavid accession to power in Iran. Although the inter-confessional disputation of the sixteenth century continued unbroken, a change of ruling dynasty in Bukhara radically altered relations between Central Asia and Isfahan, as affiliates of the ousted Abû’l-Khayrid regime began to stream west to the Safavid court in search of refuge and support against the TûqâyTîmûrid incomers, followed in later years by numerous other failed contenders for power. As the millenarian hostilities of the early sixteenth century shifted into the etatist accommodations of the seventeenth, travel into and through Iran became an option for Central Asian Muslims such as it had not been for a hundred years. Nor did geopolitical events simply alter the physical practicalities of hajj: they also altered its very connotations. As a justification for journeying into enemy territory, many of the first Abû’l-Khayrid fugitives to Isfahan claimed that their motivation in heading west was to perform pilgrimage: and many of the subsequent Central Asian travellers who indeed proceeded to the Haramayn were similarly motivated in embarking upon their journeys to absent themselves from trouble. For rulers and ruled alike, hajj through Iran re-entered people’s repertoire of action, as simultaneously a meritorious undertaking and a self-preserving one. At a later period, Central Asian pilgrims found themselves confronted by other challenges, as the routes which they followed on the way to the Hijaz became zones of contestation between the Tsar and the Ottoman Sultan. Discussing the case of the Volga-Ural Muslims in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Norihiro Naganawa draws upon Russian State archives and Tatar Muslim travel narratives and press reports in order to reveal ambiguities in the positions both of

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the imperial powers and of the pilgrims who crossed their territories. Even as the Tsarist authorities promulgated regulations aimed at policing and constraining Russian Muslim pilgrim traffic, so too, we find, were they attempting to enlist their Muslim subjects as agents of Russian influence in the Ottoman lands. Similarly, reformist-minded Volga-Ural hajjis — including amongst them such prominent intellectuals as al-‘Uthmânî or ‘Alî Ridâ’ — found themselves torn during their journeys between aspirations to Islamic confraternity and distaste at the shortcomings of those Central Asian co-religionists whom they met at the tekkes of Mecca or Medina, and between the rival claims of Russian citizenship and Islamic distinctiveness. Naganawa examines how the experience of hajj thus prompted pilgrims to reconsider their allegiances and senses of national identity, and to weigh up their ancestral religious obligations alongside the more contingent socio-political imperatives of the moment. Here again, we see how the hajj pilgrimage served to challenge prior-standing categories of order, and at the same time how personal experience might lead pilgrims in retrospect to configure the hajj as a turning point in their social and political careers. This double problematic is also addressed in Alexandre Papas’ contribution, which examines the hajj journey undertaken by the Tatar activist Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, a notable figure of the Muslim intelligentsia at the turn of the twentieth century. In his monumental Ottoman-language work The World of Islam, Abdurreşîd devotes a long chapter to a colourful and detailed account of his travel to Mecca, traversing the Arabian and Red Seas from Bombay to Jeddah. During his journey, Abdurreşîd acted as a kind of cultural intermediary between the Islamic world and the Far East: he was accompanied by a Japanese Muslim convert named Yamaoka Kōtarō, who described his hajj experiences in a Japanese-language report entitled A Journey across Arabia. Both Abdurreşîd and Yamaoka describe with some ambivalence how, in their encounters along the route with various pilgrims from far-flung parts of the world, they discerned a sense of pan-Islamic unity, which they realised proved transitory outside the confines of the hajj: Abdurreşîd was much exercised as to why Islamic confraternity should be so fragile. In his own report, meanwhile, Yamaoka alludes to certain ulterior motives with which he undertook the hajj, of which Abdurreşîd was unaware: a further suggestive ambiguity is thus woven into the episode, putting an ironic spin on the conventional homily that the first test for any muhrim is the purity of his own intention (nîya). The third section of this collection presents two complimentary studies on a major type of source for the history of both Muslim pilgrimage and Central Asian Islam, namely ‘books of hajj’ (hajjnâma). Written mostly in Persian or Turki by pilgrims returning from the Hijaz, these works are preserved either in manuscripts or in lithographs. Like other books of pilgrimage produced in the Dâr al-islâm, they contain practical advice and descriptions of itineraries to follow. As both contribut-

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ors show, however, Central Asian hajjnâmas came to serve as something more than guidebooks: by relating the experience of hajj to the experience of living as Muslims in the Russian empire, the authors of hajjnâmas aimed to provoke readers as much as to inform them. Shovosil Ziyodov’s paper discusses a number of such hajjnâmas produced in Central Asia during the periods before and after the Russian conquest. Whereas in the former period an author such as Hakîm Khân Tûra might content himself with gazetteer accounts — with a few comparative asides — of the lands he crossed along the Russian route to Mecca, accounts by pilgrims writing in the later period were often considerably bolder in scope, offering pointed juxtapositions between territories traversed and a homeland which the author had departed. Even a modest work such as Sâlih Tâshkandî’s Hajjnâma-yi Tûrkî, which ostensibly just offers practical advice on such matters as orientation, transport provisions and costs, might contain an embedded critique of places and societies encountered along the journey — with Central Asia itself prime amongst the author’s targets. Drawing upon a wealth of example, Ziyodov explores how intellectuals thus appropriated the hajjnâma genre as a device for provocation and introspection. Expanding on this theme, Sharifa Tosheva considers what such hajjnâma works may tell us about the intellectual milieu of their composition, at a time when Muslim reformist — or Jadidist — ideas began to circulate in Central Asia. As new routes opened to Turkestani pilgrims, notably via Krasnovodsk and the Caucasus, so too did new horizons open up to writers. As early as the 1880s, authors such as Rahmat Allâh Wâzih and Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Tâshkandî used their hajj accounts to express a range of empirical observations and personal sentiments betraying outlooks very different from those of their predecessors. A generation or so later, authors such as Furqat, Zawqî, Muhsînî and Behbûdî increasingly embraced the hajjnâma genre as a vehicle, alongside the Central Asian native-language press, for urging public debate about the causes and redress of that ‘backwardness’ which assailed parts of the Muslim world — notably Central Asia and the Hijaz — in contrast to such beacons of modernity as Europe, Turkey and Egypt. Central Asian Jadid pilgrims such as Hamza Niyâzî or Fitrat were excited not just by the aesthetics of modernity but by the scope which it promised for the achievement of education and freedom. Deeply marked, as we see, by their travels, the Jadid hajjis were emboldened to aspire to progress in Turkestan — however they conceptualised this. Contributions to the fourth and last section of the book discuss a pilgrimage practice closely related to — though necessarily distinct from — hajj, namely ziyârat. Like other pilgrims, Central Asians when in the Hijaz would perform a ziyârat to Medina to pray at the shrine to the Prophet Muhammad. They would also visit a range of other holy places along the journey to Mecca, on each occasion offering prayers to God through the intermediary offices of the saint who was there

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commemorated. In Central Asia, as elsewhere, the rituals which people performed at the shrines of saints shared affinities with those which they performed at the Ka‘ba. These affinities of practice generated some ambiguity in the status of such pious visits, as to whether they served as supererogatory additions to hajj or substitutions in place thereof. According to Thierry Zarcone, both the remoteness of Central Asia (including Eastern Turkestan) and its rich Sufi tradition mean that, in the Islamic world, it is the region with the densest collection of holy places to which ziyârat is deemed equal to hajj. In his article, Zarcone distinguishes between two main categories of such holy places, namely “Second Meccas” and “Sufi Ka‘bas”. Shrines falling into the first group are those which are regarded as complementary equivalents of the Holy City, while those in the second represent esoteric versions of the House of God. Various examples taken from Kirghizstan, Uzbekistan and Xinjiang show that “Second Meccas” are often called Makka-yi ‘Ajam, that is to say “Mecca of the Non-Arabs” or “of the Persians”, implying a local complement to, rather than replacement of, the real Mecca in Arabia. “Sufi Ka‘bas” – among which we find the shrines of Yûsuf Hamadânî, Ahmad Yasawî and Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband – embody, meanwhile, the concept of “Ka‘ba of the heart”: visitation to such shrines is deemed to constitute an esoteric hajj, of equal status as physical pilgrimage to the Hijaz. As a third and somewhat curious category, Zarcone notes various shrines in Khwârazm, Kazakhstan, and Kashgaria which are believed actually to replicate the Ka‘ba: such instances would appear to be the bequest of widely circulating narratives which tell how the Ka‘ba magically journeyed to Central Asia. The proliferation in Central Asia of all three categories of shrine has fostered a thick mesh of local pilgrimage practices which have variously complemented, amplified or substituted for traditions of pilgrimage to the Hijaz. At the eastern limit of Central Asia, Minoru Sawada explores the shrines (mazâr/mazar) of imams which are to be found scattered all over the region of Khotan in south Xinjiang. Major hubs of pious visitation, these holy places are suffused with legendary as well as historical narratives, generally according to each martyred imam either a genealogical relationship with the Prophet or Imâm ‘Alî or an account of how he travelled from Arabia to introduce and defend Islam against the Buddhist infidels. Leaving aside the obvious Twelver Shi‘i influence which is presumably at play here (the force of which in former and contemporary shrinevisitation practice is in any case difficult to assess), one may interpret such legendary associations as an iterated attempt to foster a sense of connectivity between a liminal zone which had experienced Islamisation only relatively recently and a classical Islamic heartland far distant in both time and space. Somewhat like the pilgrimage to the Haramayn, ziyârat visits to the shrines of Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim, Imâm Mahdi or Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq enabled the faithful to re-situate themselves

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from the margins of the Islamic world to what they might conceive as its very centre. Closing with an account of the route which pilgrims traditionally followed from one such shrine to another, Sawada considers how this ritual of re-situating the self might be formally enacted. At the northern limit of Central Asia, in the Volga-Ural region, Allen Frank similarly explores the relationship between shrines and narratives, and again addresses the question of Islamisation from the perspective of pilgrimage. In a multiethnic, multi-religious environment such as the Volga-Ural region, instances of the borrowing or disavowal of locally-enshrined pilgrimage practices can be a crucial way of understanding the dynamics of communal religious tradition. Frank thus considers how Muslim Kazan Tatars appropriated for their own use various keremet shrines, originally dedicated by Christianised pagan Udmurts and Maris to the tutelary spirits of their clans. It is telling that in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, so formative a period for the development of Volga-Ural religious identities, the authors of shrine catalogues – effectively books of ziyârat – closely related their discussion of graves to their wider discussion of Islamisation. Like those Finno-Ugrian narratives which identified shrines with former capital cities and their associated protector heroes, Turkic Muslim catalogues from Volga Bulgaria linked shrines to capitals and proselytising leaders such as Biliar and Ma‘lûm Khwâja, Saraychïq and Walî-Muhammad Îshân, Kazan and Qâsim Shaykh al-Qazânî. Rather than serving as expressions of syncretism, holy places and pilgrimages have constantly reasserted the Islamic identity of Central Asia. *** This book is the offspring of a conference held in Tashkent in Uzbekistan in October 2007. On the occasion of this publication, we should like to thank Dr. Bayram Balcı, at the time of the conference director of the Institut Français d’Études sur l’Asie Centrale (IFEAC), and the staff of the institute who supported our project from the outset and actively helped the organisation of the conference in Tashkent. Also involved technically or financially were the following institutions: the Islamic University of Tashkent, the Al-Beruni Oriental Institute, the Tashkent branch of UNESCO, and the Department of Turkic and Ottoman Studies (now the Centre d’Études sur la Turquie, l’Empire Ottoman, les Balkans et l’Asie Centrale) of the CNRS. To all, we offer our sincere thanks. We are also grateful to the acting director of IFEAC, Prof. Francis Richard, who generously agreed to sponsor the present publication. Our collaboration with Klaus Schwarz Verlag’s director, Mr. Gerd Winkelhane, and his staff, has been particularly cheerful and efficient. Lastly, our gratitude goes to the various contributors, including translators, without whom this book would have not been possible.

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Tarîqat andTarîq:

Central Asian Naqshbandîs ∗ on the Roads to the Haramayn

Hamid Algar “And proclaim the hajj to all people: they shall come to you on foot and on lean camels, come from all distant places.” Quran, 22:27

Prologue: The Congruence of Inner and Outer Voyaging That the Islamic era begins with the Hijra, the migration of the Prophet from Mecca to Medina, is of more than calendric significance; it suggests the centrality of various forms of travel both to the expansion of Islam and to the development of its civilisation. Even the most casual overview of Islamic history will note the importance of journeys undertaken for the pursuit of knowledge, for commerce and exploration, for conquest and warfare, and for pilgrimage in its two distinct but often 1 interrelated forms: hajj and ziyârat – visiting the tombs of the pious and saintly. *

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For the purposes of this essay, Central Asia is taken primarily to mean first Timurid Transoxiana and then the territories of the Uzbek khanates. Naqshbandîs from Eastern Turkestan are excluded from consideration, with only a single exception. Tatars from the Volga-Ural region will enter the narrative beginning with the nineteenth century, a period in which interaction between the two areas, both subject to Russian domination, was intensified. Two studies on the general topic of travel in the vocabulary and history of Islam deserve mention: Annemarie Schimmel, Das Thema des Weges und der Reise im Islam (Nordrhein-Westfälische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Vorträge G 329 (Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag, 1994), and Houari Touati, Islam et Voyage au Moyen Âge (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 2000). Note also Mustafa Çağrıcı, “Seyâhat,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, XXXVII, pp. 7-9. The title of Muzaffar Alam and Sanjay Subrahmanyam’s Indo-Persian Travels in the Age of Discoveries, 1400-1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007) speaks for itself. Somewhat less enlightening is the collective volume edited by Dale F. Eickelman and James Piscatori: Muslim Travellers: Pilgrimage, migration and the religious imagination (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990). Of the eleven articles comprising a volume edited by I.R. Netton, Golden Roads: Migration, pilgrimage and travel in mediaeval and modern Islam (Richmond: Curzon Press, 1993), only two deal with the hajj.

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On seven separate occasions, the Quran itself calls on the believers to “travel on the earth”, and another verse (41:53) proclaims a divine intention or promise to display 2 His signs upon the horizons and within men’s own selves. Insofar as all forms of approved or recommended travel have in common a devotional purpose and therefore an inner dimension, it is natural that Sufis should have paid particular attention to the topic. Thus Ziyâ’ al-Dîn Abû al-Najîb al-Suhrawardî (d. 1166), eponym of the Suhrawardî order, assembled in his Âdâb al-Murîdîn a number of Hadith that exalt the virtues of travel. The most general is that in which the Prophet commands: “travel, and you will attain health and benefit.” Others specify different types of religiously mandated travel. The Prophet is thus said to have declared that three categories of traveller count as a “delegation to God” (wafd allâh): those making the hajj; those engaged in warfare (al-ghâzî), and those performing the ‘umra. Another threefold ranking of journeys, in descending order of merit, consists of travel while engaged in Jihad; the hajj; and journeying to the Prophet’s Mosque in Medina. Analogous to the last two is the journey of one who sets out to visit the Masjid alAqsâ in Jerusalem, as a well-known Hadith plainly attests. Then, without invoking the authority of Hadith, al-Suhrawardî lauds two more types of travel: journeys undertaken for seeking knowledge (talab al-‘ilm) and others for visiting shaykhs and one’s brethren in religion. Desirable, too, are journeys to view the remains of past civilisations and be chastened by the evidence of their decline; to purge the self of its desires; and to seek obscurity. However the varieties of travel be ranked, it is plain that they are all imbued with religious significance and value; the movement in each case is towards the divine presence as well as a fixed geographic location. Travel for frivolous purposes – such as idle recreation (al-nuzha) or the acquisition 3 of worldly benefit – is reprehensible. 2

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The seven verses are the following: 3:137, 6:11. 16:36, 27:69, 29:20, 30:42, and 34:18. A further seven ask whether those addressed have not voyaged in the earth to behold the traces of peoples now effaced from the earth (12:109, 22:46, 30:9, 35:44, 40:21, 40:82, and 48:10). Ziyâ’ al-Dîn Abû al-Najîb al-Suhrawardî, Âdâb al-Murîdîn, ed. Najîb Mâyil Hirawî (Tehran: Intishârât-i Mawlâ, 1404/1984), pp. 261-262. It should not, of course, be inferred that attentiveness to the moral significance of travel and the various purposes for which it might be undertaken was restricted to the Sufis. A Shi‘i author of the Safavid period, Hasan b. ‘Abd al-Razzâq Lâhîjî (d. 1709), wrote a brief treatise on the subject, “Hadiyat al-Musâfir” (Lâhîjî, Rasâ’il-i Fârsî, ed. ‘Alî Sadrâ’î Khû’î [Tehran: Markaz-i Farhangî-yi Nashr-i Qibla, 1375/1996], pp. 303-320). His emphases were, however, to a large extent fiqhî. Journeys are classified as haqq (valid), examples being hajj, visits paid to the shrines of the Imams or to friends and relatives, and travel undertaken to earn a modest living for self and family; or bâtil (invalid), a broad category essentially definable as anything that does not come under the heading of haqq. As for how to comport oneself while travelling, Lâhîjî is concerned primarily with the permissibility or impermissibility of shortening one’s prayers and postponing the duty of fasting during Ramadan.

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It is then by no means accidental that the technical vocabulary of Sufism is replete with terms relating to travel and that most if not all of its practices are sub4 sumed in the one word sulûk, “wayfaring.” Terms such as maqâm (“station”) and manzil (“stage”) delineate the progress made by the wayfarer, and wusûl/wisâl (“arrival,” “attainment”) serves to indicate its final result. The inward journey to the divine presence is, indeed, sometimes compared explicitly to the supreme devotional journey that is the hajj. The parallels are numerous: to the robbers and bandits that infest the pilgrimage route correspond “evil companions and demons;” to the abysses into which the pilgrim may unwittingly fall correspond the afflictions and illusions besetting the wayfarer; to the fatigue that inevitably overtakes the pilgrim as he labors on to his goal corresponds the recurrent weariness of the wayfarer; and to the mirages of the desert correspond luminous visionary experiences of uncertain meaning. And just as the pilgrim requires a competent guide (dalîl) to ward off all these manifest perils, so too does the wayfarer need a preceptor (mur5 shid) to “traverse the limitless desert and attain the Ka‘ba of union.” Like many other aspects of the Sufi life, travel was regulated by norms and customs (âdâb). The earliest and most detailed set of prescriptions is that provided by Ziyâ’ al-Dîn Abû al-Najîb al-Suhrawardî. Once underway, he instructs, the traveller should take care to visit eminent shaykhs inhabiting the cities along his route. After kissing the hand of a shaykh, he should sit close to him silently for a while, speaking only in answer to whatever the shaykh may ask. He should then withdraw from his proximity and seat himself among the resident dervishes; they will proffer him their greetings and engage him in conversation before food is brought in for all to consume. No breath should be wasted on discussing with them the worldly or their affairs; it is only shaykhs and their companions of whom the visitor can bring intelligence that are fit for mention. Crucial for the traveller is that he should carry with him at all times either a metal jug or a pitcher, preferably the former, for making his ablutions; lack of such an item will indicate that the traveller is negligent of his prayers. Some shaykhs, indeed, will examine the hands or shoulders of the newly arrived traveller for marks left by the carrying of a jug or a pitcher over long distances; if they find none, they may abruptly dismiss him from their presence. Other recommended pieces of equipment are a staff, a needle and thread, scissors and a razor. Then, in more abstract vein, al-Suhrawardî cites Abû Ya‘qûb al-Sûsî as ordaining four essentials for the traveller: knowledge, to guide his steps; abstemiousness, to guard him from the reprehensible; a tempera4 5

See the perceptive remarks of Houari Touati, Islam et Voyage au Moyen Âge, pp. 196-197. Najm al-Dîn Râzî, Mirsâd al-‘Ibâd min al-Mabda’ ilâ al-Ma‘âd, ed. Muhammad Amîn Riyâhî, 2nd ed., (Tehran: Shirkat-i Intishârât-i ‘Ilmî va Farhangî, 1365/1987), pp. 228-232; translated by Hamid Algar as The Path of God’s Bondsmen from Origin to Return (Delmar, NY: Caravan Books, 1982), pp. 236-241.

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ment that permits him to endure hardship; and a certainty of faith to carry him for6 ward. The Suhrawardiyya never had an important presence in Central Asia, but it was from a Suhrawardî lineage that the Kubrawiyya, for long the most important order in the region, branched out in the thirteenth century. Homage is paid to this ancestry by the inclusion, in a number of early Kubrawî texts, of rules similar to those set out in Âdâb al-Murîdîn. Thus Najm al-Dîn Kubrâ (d. 1220), eponym of the order, devotes the seventh and final chapter of his Âdâb al-Sûfiyya to behavioral norms for the traveller. Travel is valid, he affirms, for three purposes only: visiting the tombs of the saintly (ziyârat); meeting with shaykhs; or practising ascetic endurance (riyâzat). The traveller must carry with him at all times a staff and a pitcher, the former with his right hand, the latter with his left, and when he enters a khânaqâh, he should point the sharp end of his staff at his breast, indicating that he is at war with his carnal self. Other necessities are a miswâk, a comb, a nail clipper, and a collyrium box. While on the road, he should gird his waist and roll back his sleeves; walk slowly whenever possible; make takbîr whenever climbing or descending an incline; refrain from begging; and sleep in a mosque only when no other 7 shelter is available, for fear of unintentionally polluting it while asleep. As for Abû al-Mafâkhir Yahyâ Bâkharzî (d. 1335), son of Sayf al-Dîn Bâkharzî, one of Kubrâ’s principal successors, he includes in his compendious work on âdâb virtually the whole of Suhrawardî’s chapter on the subject, in Persian translation and with only 8 minor emendation. The foregoing is not to suggest, however, that the norms listed and described in these various works were peculiar to the Suhrawardîs and their Kubrawî offspring, for many of them derive from Hadith of common currency and 9 must have been observed by travellers of various types, not only Sufis. In addition, 6

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Ziyâ’ al-Dîn Abû al-Najîb al-Suhrawardî, Âdâb al-Murîdîn, pp. 263-264. Much the same material is to be found in the ‘Awârif al-Ma‘ârif of Shahâb al-Dîn al-Suhrawardî (d. 1235), Ziyâ’ al-Dîn Abû al-Najîb’s nephew; see supplement to Abû Hâmid al-Ghazâlî, Ihyâ’ ‘Ulûm al-Dîn (Beirut: Dâr al-Qalam, n.d.), V, pp. 93-99. Najm al-Dîn Kubrâ, Âdâb al-Sûfîya, ed. Mas‘ûd Qâsimî (Tehran: Kitâbfurûshî-yi Zuwwâr, 1363/1984), pp. 37-38. The author’s denial of legitimacy to travel for other than the three purposes mentioned is not, of course, intended to invalidate the hajj or going forth on Jihad, but only frivolous journeying devoid of spiritual purpose. Also relevant to the norms and customs of pious travel are chapters three and four of the same work, which deal respectively with the modalities of entering a khânaqâh and eating in the company of one’s fellows. Abû al-Mafâkhir Yahyâ Bâkharzî, Awrâd al-Ahbâb va Fusûs al-Âdâb, ed. Îraj Afshâr (Tehran: Intishârât-i Farhang-i Îrân-Zamîn, 1358/1979), pp. 157-166. Najm al-Dîn Râzî (d. 1256), another Kubrawî author, lays down âdâb for travelling merchants comparable to those prescribed for Sufi wayfarers. Thus, he says, they should always seek out the pious and the learned wherever they alight and bestow upon them some token of esteem. See his great Persian compendium, Mirsâd al-‘Ibâd min alMabda’ ilâ al-Ma‘âd, pp. 526-527; translated by Hamid Algar as The Path of God’s

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there is concrete evidence that Naqshbandîs were acquainted with basic Kubrawî texts and profited from them: ‘Abd al-Ghafûr Lârî (d. 1506), a murîd of ‘Abd alRahmân Jâmî, is known, for example, to have translated Kubrâ’s al-Usûl al-‘Ashara 10 into Persian. In any event, the Kubrawiyya was displaced from almost the entirety of Central Asia by the Naqshbandiyya, the main order to emerge from Central Asia and that with which this essay will almost exclusively be concerned. One of the founding principles of this tarîqat might appear to negate this centrality to Sufism of travel, in its terrestrial as well as spiritual aspects. For ‘Abd al-Khâliq Ghijduwânî (d. 1202), an initiatic ancestor preceding Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband by five links in the chain, laid down “travel within the homeland” (safar dar watan) as a distinctive and normative rule for his followers; together with eight other such precepts, supplemented by three more formulated by Bahâ’ al-Dîn himself, it became one of the guiding principles (kalimât-i qudsiyya) of Naqshbandî tradition. According to the Rashahât-i ‘Ayn al-Hayât of Fakhr al-Dîn ‘Alî Kâshifî (d. 1532), a major source for the early history of the Naqshbandiyya, the “homeland” in question is the wayfarer’s instinctual nature (tabî‘at-i basharî), and the travel incumbent upon him consists of advancing from the attributes inherent in that nature to angelic attributes, from reprehensible to laudable characteristics. Unless that essential movement take place, travel on the outer plane is fruitless, for, as Sa‘d al-Dîn Kâshgharî (d. 1462) observed, the vile remains in his lowly state wherever he goes until he rids 11 himself of his vileness. This, however, does not amount to a repudiation of the possible benefits of terrestrial travel, for as Fakhr al-Dîn Kâshifî concedes, the elders of the path have followed different choices in this respect: some have begun by travelling, then chosen to stay in one place; some have begun by remaining in one place and later started to travel; others have abstained from travel throughout; and yet others have travelled unceasingly throughout their spiritual careers. All of their choices were in principle valid, conditional only on the forming of a sound inten10

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Bondsmen from Origin to Return pp. 478-479. Najm al-Dîn Kubrâ, al-Usûl al-‘Ashara, translated with commentary by ‘Abd al-Ghafûr Lârî, ed. Najîb Mâyil Hirawî (Tehran: Intishârât-i Mawlâ, 1363/1984). Abdullâh Ilâhî (d. 1491), a pioneer of the Naqshbandiyya in the Ottoman lands, similarly incorporated in his Meslekü 't-Tâlibîn the prescriptions for the conduct of murshid and murîd laid down by the Kubrawî, Najm al-Dîn Dâya, in Mirsâd al-‘Ibâd; see Mustafa Kara, Bursa’da Tarikatlar ve Tekkeler, 2nd ed. (Bursa: Sır Yayıncılık, 2001), p. 28. On the recourse had by Naqshbandîs to Kubrawî texts and, in general, relations between the two orders, see further Necdet Tosun, Bahâeddîn Nakşbend: Hayatı, Görüşleri, Tarîkatı (Istanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 2002), pp. 383-386. Abû Turâb al-Nakhshabî (d. 859) had gone even further, remarking that “there is nothing more harmful for murîds than journeys undertaken in pursuit of vain desire” (cited by al-Suhrawardî in Âdâb al-Murîdîn, p. 262). Part of what is at issue in these condemnations may have been the untramelled wanderings of the qalandars and their libertine, antinomian habits.

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tion and correct purpose. Distinctive for the Naqshbandiyya is that the aspirant travel only until he has found one to guide him on the path; then he should take up residence wherever he finds such a person. And if it happens that such a preceptor is locally available, he should not even embark on the itinerant mode. Once the requisite spiritual state (nisbat) has been firmly acquired, it is a matter of indifference 13 whether the wayfarer travels or remains fixed. The principle of “travel within the homeland” is interpreted somewhat differently by Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî (d. 1624), whose sobriquet of Mujaddid-i Alf-i Sânî (“renewer of the second millennium”) is reflected in the name of the branch of 14 the order stemming from him, the Mujaddidiyya. In a letter written, fortuitously enough, after returning to Sirhind from a journey to Delhi and Agra, he explains to a certain Jabbârî Khân that what is meant by the principle is sayr-i anfusî – voy15 aging within the states of the self. This is attainable for Naqshbandîs, and for them alone, at the very outset in view of their adage that “the end of the path is subsumed in its beginning” (indirâj al-nihâya fî al-bidâya); for others, it must be 16 preceded by sayr-i âfâqî – voyaging across the horizons. In another letter, he clarifies that the realm of the âfâq includes “the imaginal world” (‘âlam-i mithâl): “the 12 13

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Kâshifî cites as his source for these four possibilities the Persian translation of the ‘Awârif al-Ma‘ârif. For the Arabic text, see the supplement to Abû Hâmid al-Ghazâlî, Ihyâ’ ‘Ulûm al-Dîn (Beirut: Dâr al-Qalam, n.d.), V, pp. 88-93. Fakhr al-Dîn Kâshifî, Rashahât-i ‘Ayn al-Hayât, ed. ‘Alî Asghar Mu‘înîyân (Tehran: Intishârât-i Nûrîânî, 1977), I, pp. 41-42. See also Thierry Zarcone, “Le ‘voyage dans la patrie’ (safar dar waṭan) chez les Soufis de l’ordre Naqshbandî”, in Mohammad Ali AmirMoezzi, ed., Le Voyage Initiatique en Terre d’Islam (Louvain and Paris: Peeters, 1996), pp. 301-315. See below, pp. 59-60. The allusion is to Quran, 41:53: “We shall show them Our signs upon the horizons (alâfâq) and in their own selves (anfusihim) until it becomes apparent to them that it is the truth/reality (haqq).” The verse has been interpreted in a purely historical and geographical sense, to mean the triumphs Islam was about to register both in distant lands (al-âfâq) and closer at hand, among the Arabs (anfusihim), these to serve as a palpable proof to the mushrikîn of the veracity of Islam. A further meaning discerned in the verse is that to mankind as a whole will be manifested the divine signs that are visible both in the macrocosm and in the microcosm. Much depends on identifying the antecedent of “them” and on placing the verse within the context of the verses preceding it or viewing it in abstraction therefrom. Both meanings are suggested, without any contradiction, by two Naqshbandî exegetes: Qâdî Muhammad Sanâ’ Allâh (d. 1810), in his al-Tafsîr al-Mazharî (Quetta: Maktaba-yi Rashîdiyya, n.d.), VI, p. 305; and Shahâb alDîn Mahmûd al-Alûsî (d. 1854) in his Rûh al-Ma‘ânî (Beirut: Dâr Ihyâ’ al-Turâth al-‘Arabî, n.d.), XXV, pp. 6-8. Imâm-i Rabbânî (=Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî), Maktûbât (Istanbul: Işık Kitabevi, 1977), I, pp. 172-173. Thierry Zarcone has correctly observed, however, that the formula of indirâj al-nihâya fî al-bidâya had already been invoked by Najm al-Dîn al-Kubrâ on behalf of the path he proposed; see “Le ‘voyage dans la patrie’ (safar dar waṭan) chez les Soufis de l’ordre Naqshbandî”, p. 311.

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[Naqshbandî] wayfarer sees himself moving from one form/state (hay’atî) to another, so that it appears that he is traversing the âfâq, although in reality the voyaging 17 takes place within his own self (nafs).” In other words, sayr-i âfâqî is contained 18 within sayr-i anfusî, the beginning within the end. Safar dar watan is connected, moreover, with khalwat dar anjuman, “solitude within society”, the other apparent oxymoron prescribed by the Naqshbandîs: “Once travel within the homeland has been attained, the wayfarer travels within the retreat (khalwatkhâna) of that homeland, while residing in society which is marked by distracting multiplicity (anjuman-i tafriqa); the distracting multiplicity of the âfâq cannot penetrate the 19 cell of the anfus.” Âfâq thus approaches synonymity with anjuman. From all of this it is clear that Sirhindî is not concerned with the relative advisability of terrestrial travel or the avoidance thereof; it is a question of two forms or phases of travel, both of which take place within man’s inner being. However the principle of “travel within the homeland” be interpreted or applied, the diffusion of this originally Central Asian order was hardly less due to terrestrial journeying than was that of any other tarîqat. It is proposed in this essay to trace the routes followed by Central Asian Naqshbandîs on the all-transcending journey that is the hajj, for the choices they made helped to construct a vast network of communication between three major regions of the Sunni world – Central Asia, the Ottoman lands, and the Indian subcontinent. Numerous other factors were, of course, also involved: the resources available in certain cities, above all Istanbul; the sites for pious visitation found in many of them; the fluctuating fortunes of the territories and polities through which the pilgrims passed; the relative security of a given route or a portion thereof at any given time; the abilities of individual pilgrims to undertake a journey that was both arduous and prolonged; and changing modes of transport. In short, the topic provides a prism through which may be viewed a significant portion of Islamic history, from the fourteenth century to the present.

Early Naqshbandîs on the Hajj: Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband, Muhammad Pârsâ, and Ismâ‘îl Shîrwânî In keeping with the principle of “travel within the homeland,” the only long-distance journeys undertaken by the eponym of the order, Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband, were for the purpose of peforming the hajj. He first went in 1370, travelling by way of Merv, Sarakhs, and Mayhana. There he encountered a dervish who tried to im17 18 19

Imâm-i Rabbânî (=Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî), Maktûbât, II, p. 104. Imâm-i Rabbânî (=Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî), Maktûbât, I, p. 362. Imâm-i Rabbânî (=Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî), Maktûbât, I, p. 362. The translation provided here inevitably reflects the ungainly and artless nature of Sirhindî’s prose. On his understanding of safar dar watan, see also Maktûbât, I, pp. 43, 62, 266-267,359, and II, p. 103.

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press him by flying, birdlike, to the top of a hill. Bahâ’ al-Dîn smiled indulgently, brought him down to earth, and touched his knee with his index finger, whereupon the dervish turned pale and fainted. A tap on the forehead sufficed, however, to re20 animate him. After arriving in Mecca, Bahâ’ al-Dîn observed one man clinging firmly to the ring on the door of the Ka‘ba, imploring God for some favour; and another, calmly transacting 50,000 dinars’ worth of business in the market at Mina. He thought the latter infinitely superior to the former in spiritual aspiration (himmat), the reason being that even while engaged in commerce his heart was not un21 aware of God for even an instant. On the day of sacrifice at the end of the hajj ceremonies, Bahâ’ al-Dîn gave proof himself of “high aspiration” by remarking to the companions who were accompanying him, “We, too, should sacrifice a son” – that is, as Abraham had been prepared to do. When the party returned to Bukhara, it transpired that one of his sons had indeed died on the very day this sentiment was 22 uttered. The route home passed through Baghdad, Mazandaran, Herat and again Merv, Bahâ’ al-Dîn finally reaching Bukhara on the very day Amir Kulâl, his principal guide on the path, died. Bahâ’ al-Dîn’s second journey to the Hijaz seems to have preceded his own death by not more than a few months, which would place it either in the year 1388 or somewhat earlier. The itinerary he chose on this occasion was noteworthy for a three-day sojourn in Tâyâbâd in the course of which he communed with Zayn alDîn Abû Bakr Tâyâbâdî (or Khwâfî; d. 1434), eponym of the Zayniyya, a tarîqat with which the early Naqshbandîs of Istanbul came to maintain fraternal relations. When choosing a camel in Baghdad to convey him across the desert to the Hijaz, Bahâ’ al-Dîn chose the leanest and feeblest available, despite the entreaties of his companions to select a healthier beast. His decision was vindicated when many of the more robust camels collapsed in the desert and his conveyed him to the Hijaz and back without any difficulty. This, explained Bahâ’ al-Dîn, was because one should not impose one’s corporeal weight on the camel; he had been riding his 23 mount only “in a formal sense” (az râh-i sûrat). Back in Baghdad, a large assembly waited on him in reverential silence to hear him speak. The major topic was the meaning of four apparently incompatible utterances; the spirit of Kulâl inspired in him the explanation that they were the expressions of four different spiritual 24 states, equally valid in and of themselves. It was while tarrying at Merv on this return journey that Bahâ’ al-Dîn became ill, and sensing that his end was near, he 20 21 22 23 24

Salâh b. Mubârak Bukhârî, Anîs al-Tâlibîn wa ‘Uddat al-Sâlikîn, ed. Taufîq Subhânî (Tehran: Sâzmân-i Intishârât-i Kayhân, 1371/1992), pp. 203-205. Fakhr al-Dîn Kâshifî, Rashahât-i ‘Ayn al-Hayât, II, pp. 45-456. Salâh b. Mubârak Bukhârî, Anîs al-Tâlibîn wa ‘Uddat al-Sâlikîn, p. 189. Salâh b. Mubârak Bukhârî, Anîs al-Tâlibîn wa ‘Uddat al-Sâlikîn, p. 348. Salâh b. Mubârak Bukhârî, Anîs al-Tâlibîn wa ‘Uddat al-Sâlikîn, pp. 157-159.

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appointed Khwâja Muhammad Pârsâ as his successor. The sparse accounts of Bahâ’ al-Dîn’s two journeys to the Haramayn record only the few charismatic feats and utterances reviewed here; it is plain that he did not intend to propagate broadly the distinctive path of which he was to become the eponym. Pârsâ had already accompanied his master on the second occasion that he performed the hajj, but he set out anew for the Hijaz in 1419. As he travelled westwards, he visited the “blessed shrines” (mazârât-i mubâraka) of Nasaf, Chaghanian, Termez, Balkh, and Herat, and during his brief stay in the last-named he bestowed his blessings on the infant ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî, destined to become one of 26 the mainstays of the ascendant Naqshbandî order. Once again, the hajj served as the prelude to a death. Pârsâ fell ill soon after completing the rites of the pilgrimage and had to be carried in a litter in order to perform a farewell circumambulation of the Ka‘ba. He passed away in Medina January 1, 1420 and was buried in the Jannat 27 al-Baqî‘. The Ottoman scholar Shams al-Dîn Fanârî was among those who performed the funeral prayers, and Zayn al-Dîn Tâyâbâdî had a white headstone brought from Egypt to set over his grave. It could be identified until at least the first Wahhabi occupation of the Hijaz, lasting from 1806 to 1812, and remained for many generations an object of pious visitation by Naqshbandîs from Central Asia 28 and elsewhere. There is no indication that, any more than his master, Pârsâ strove for the dissemination of the Naqshbandî path during his stays in Mecca and Medina. The main lines of descent from Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband were destined to pass through Khwâja ‘Ubayd Allâh Ahrâr (d. 1490), connected to the eponym by three links in the initiatic chain. In the course of a tumultous life, replete with political and social involvement, Ahrâr never had the opportunity to perform the hajj, unless, that is, credence be given to a report that he could be seen in Mecca every year performing the hajj without absenting himself from Samarkand, his actual place of 29 residence, for even an instant. He was, however, solicitous for the welfare of 25 26

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Fakhr al-Dîn Kâshifî, Rashahât-i ‘Ayn al-Hayât, I, pp. 97-100; ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî, Nafahât al-Uns, ed. Mahmûd ‘Âbidî (Tehran: Intishârât-i Ittilâ‘ât, 1370/1991), p. 393. Assigning Herat to Khurasan rather than Central Asia, we omit all account of Jâmî’s pilgrimage in 1472, remarkable chiefly for his violent altercation with the Shi‘is of Baghdad while passing through en route to the Haramayn. See ‘Abd al-Wâsi‘ Bâkharzî, Maqâmât-i Jâmî, ed. Najîb Mâyil Hirawî (Tehran: Nashr-i Nay, 1371/1992), pp. 166-173. Fakhr al-Dîn Kâshifî, Rashahât-i ‘Ayn al-Hayât, I, pp. 110-111; ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî, Nafahât al-Uns, pp. 397-398. See Muhammad Fazlullâh, ‘Umdat al-Maqâmât (Kabul: Nu‘mânî Kutubkhâna, 1355/ 1976), p. 75. Taşköprüzade, al-Shaqâ’iq al-Nu‘mâniyya fî ‘Ulamâ’ al-Dawlat al-‘Uthmâniyya (Beirut: Dâr al-Kitâb al-‘Arabî, 1395/1975), p. 158. The ability to be in more than one place at the same time is, of course, a frequent theme in hagiography. There is certainly no mention of Ahrâr’s having performed the hajj in conventional fashion in the copious hagiographical literature detailing his life. For a summary of its chief events, derived

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those who chose to go on the pilgrimage, equipping them with letters of introduc30 tion and recommendation. One of his numerous followers seems, indeed, to have been the first to propagate the tarîqat at the Haramayn, albeit on a quite modest scale. This was Mawlânâ Ismâ‘îl Shîrwânî (d. 1527 or 1535), who left Samarkand not long after the death of Ahrâr and settled in Mecca as a mujâwir. He lived thereafter for about three decades in the Holy City, a lengthy period interrupted by brief stays in Anatolia and Damascus, but he is known to have appointed only four 31 khalîfas. One was Khwâja Abû al-Qâsim, a great-grandson of Ahrâr, who spent 32 some time in Anatolia and Yemen before joining Shîrwânî’s circle in Mecca. Another was Mawlânâ Ismâ‘îl Tâlishî, who died in Mecca at a date unknown and 33 without leaving spiritual progeny. The other two were both Hadith scholars. From the first, Sayyid Zakariyâ Bahmâwî (d. 1582), a line of Naqshbandî transmission 34 passed through Ghazanfar Nahrawâlî and Ahmad Shinnâwî to Ahmad Qushâshî. The second was ‘Alî al-Muttaqî al-Hindî (d. 1567), best known as the compiler of 35 Kanz al-‘Ummâl, a major collection of Hadith. It is perhaps noteworthy that Shîrwânî does not appear to have been a major disciple of Ahrâr; that he settled in Mecca only after the death of Ahrâr, not at his command or during his lifetime; and that he failed or omitted to implant there a significant line of transmission. Another early Naqshbandî mujâwir whose residence in Mecca had little lasting consequence was Muhammad Husayn Khwâfî. He belonged to the Dahbîdiyya, a line that went back to Ahrâr by way first of Khwâja Ahmad Kâsânî Makhdûm-i A‘zam (d. 1542), progenitor of the Dahbîdiyya, and then of Mawlânâ Muhammad Qâzî (d. 1515). Khwâfî traced his lineage in this branch of the tarîqat back to Makhdûm-i A‘zam’s grandson, Sayyid Hâshim Dahbîdî (d. 1636), and before him, his son, Sayyid Muhammad Amîn Dahbîdî. The only person Khwâfî is known to have initiated in Mecca was Ibn al-‘Ujaymî, best known for compiling a catalogue of the Sufis of Mecca with whom he was contemporary. This initiation does not appear to have carried much weight with Ibn al-‘Ujaymî, for in his mention of Khwâfî he writes only that “practised the tarîqat for a while under his guidance” (salaktu

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from a collation of the chief sources, see Mukhlisabonu Kadyrova, Zhitiia Khodzha Akhrara (Tashkent: Institut Français d’Études sur l’Asie Centrale, 2007), pp. 99-103. See, for example, The Letters of Khwāja ‘Ubayd Allāh Aḥrār and his Associates, eds. Jo-Ann Gross and Asom Urunbaev (Leiden: Brill, 2002), pp. 387-388. Muhammad b. Husayn Qazwînî, Silsila-nâma-yi Khwâjagân-i Naqshband, ms. Bibliothèque Nationale, supplément persan 1418, ff. 18b-19a. ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Abû al-Fath al-Husaynî, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, ms. Esad Efendi (Süleymaniye) f. 60a. Muhyi al-Dîn Lârî, Futûh al-Haramayn, ed. Kalîmullâh Husaynî (Hyderabad: Dâr alKutub-i Kalîmîyya, 1977), p. 66; the same text, ed. ‘Alî Muhaddith (Tehran: Intishârât-i Ittilâ‘ât, 1987), p. 70; Necdet Tosun, Bahâeddîn Nakşbend, p. 187. Ibn al-‘Ujaymî, Khabâyâ al-Zawâyâ, ms. Dâr al-Kutub (Cairo), Târîkh 2410, ff. 23b-24a. Necdet Tosun, Bahâeddîn Nakşbend, p. 187.

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‘alayhâ muddatan bi talqînihi), apart from which, in accordance with the fashion of the time, he sought and obtained initiations into a wide range of the tarîqats rep36 resented in Mecca.

The Iranian Route in Safavid Times A little more than a decade after the death of Ahrâr, Shâh Ismâ‘îl the Safavid took control of Tabriz and began a conquest of Iran that was accompanied by the coercive propagation of Shi‘ism (or more precisely, it might be said, his own defective understanding of that creed). It cannot be doubted that the policies of Shâh Ismâ‘îl and his successors intensified Sunni-Shi‘i hostility and polemics to an unprecedented degree. The persecution of Sunnis in Iran, widespread and systematic at first although later sporadic, cannot have failed to affect Central Asian pilgrims attempting to make their way across Safavid territory. In 1545, Shîr Shâh Sûr, the Afghan sultan of Delhi, made plans for a military alliance with the Ottomans with the express purpose of purging the Iranian route of the Kızılbaş pestilence; not long after, 37 he died in battle and the envoy he was about to send to Istanbul never set out. When proposing an alliance to Kânûnî Süleyman, ‘Ubayd Allâh Khân, the Shaybanid ruler of Bukhara, similarly cited as part of his rationale the need to secure 38 unhindered passage across Iran for pilgrims from Central Asia. And when, in 1568, Hâjî Muhammad Khân, the ruler of Khiva, requested the Ottomans to obtain, by whatever means necessary, the reopening of the hajj route via Astrakhan that had been blocked by the Russians, he, too, made reference to harassment endured by Central Asian pilgrims while crossing Iran; similar appeals were received from 39 Samarkand and Bukhara in the same year. The frequently encountered notion of a rarely traversable “sectarian barrrier” between Iran and its Sunni neighbours to the east and the west nonetheless calls 40 for revision. Records do in fact exist of a number of such pilgrims travelling 36

37 38 39 40

Ibn al-‘Ujaymî, Khabâyâ al-Zawâyâ, ms. Dâr al-Kutub (Cairo), Târîkh 2410, f. 23b. The same Ibn al-‘Ujaymî also acquired a Naqshbandî–Mujaddidî affiliation from Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm; see below, p. 65. On the Naqshbandiyya-Dahbîdiyya, see Hamid Algar, “Dahbidiya,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, VI, pp. 585-586. Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations (Delhi: Idarah-i Adabiyat-i Delli [sic], 1989), p. 147. Ahmet Asrar, Kanunî Sultan Süleyman Devrinde Osmanlı Devletinin Dinî Siyaseti ve İslam Âlemi (Istanbul: Büyük Kitaplık, 1972), p. 174. Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, p. 159; İsmail Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Tarihi (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu, 1983), III:1, p. 34. It is accepted, seemingly without question, by Suraiya Faroqhi in her Herrscher über Mekka: Die Geschichte der Pilgerfahrt (München: Artemis Verlag, 1990), and the revised and abbreviated English version of the same work, Pilgrims and Sultans: The Hajj under the Ottomans (London: I.B. Tauris, 1994). For a more nuanced treatment of the subject, see Robert McChesney, “Barrier of Heterodoxy?: Rethinking the Ties between Iran and Central Asia in the Seventeenth Century,” in Charles Melville, ed.,

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through Iran without hindrance, and it is noteworthy that in several cases Naqshbandî shaykhs were involved, even enjoying official honour and hospitality. The earliest such instance occurred in the time of Shâh Ismâ‘îl himself; when suing for peace with his Safavid enemy, the same ‘Ubayd Allâh Khân who once advocated an alliance with the Ottomans had dispatched to his camp a certain Khwâja ‘Abd al-Rahîm, supposedly a lineal descendant of Khwâja Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband himself; he pledged personally to ensure the observance of peace on the part of the Uzbeks, for, it is said,” the rulers of Turkistan would not dare to drink a drop of wa41 ter without first obtaining his consent.” A later case of Naqshbandî diplomatic involvement in Uzbek-Safavid relations is that of a certain Mîrzâ Beg – described as a “Naqshbandî khwâja” – who in 1598 accompanied Tâtloq Khân, an ambassador sent by the Abû’l-Khayrid ‘Abd Allâh II, on his mission to Isfahan. After being received with great respect by the Shah, Mîrzâ Beg continued on his way, but died 42 before reaching Mecca. It should be noted, however, that the friendly reception Shâh ‘Abbâs accorded this delegation was motivated not by tolerant or ecumenical disposition, but by a wish to encourage the conflict then underway between ‘Abd Allâh Khân and his son and successor, ‘Abd al-Mu’min Khân, in order to wrest Khurasan back from Uzbek control. Twenty-three years later, we find another prominent Naqshbandî, Khwâja ‘Abd al-Rashîd of the Jûybârî line, accompanying an Uzbek diplomatic mission designed to forestall a Safavid expedition against 43 Transoxiana. Each of these instances involved diplomatic initiatives, so no conclusion can be drawn from them for the general feasibility of Iran in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as a transit route for Naqshbandî or other pilgrims from Central Asia. A later and more significant case of travel through Iran en route to the hajj is that of Shaykh ‘Abd Allâh Nidâ’î of Kashgar, for unlike his predecessors, he had no diplomatic connections or protection. Born in 1688-89, he followed the counsel he received early in youth from an unnamed but apparently Naqshbandî pîr to remain steadfast in journeying “for twenty or thirty years.” The hajj was his ultimate goal, but as he travelled to the Hijaz he stopped off at Yarkand, Khujand, Samarkand,

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Safavid Persia (London: I.B. Tauris, 1996), pp. 231-267; idem, “The Central Asian HajjPilgrimage in the Time of the Early Modern Empires,” in Michel Mazzaoui, ed., Safavid Iran and Her Neighbors (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2003), pp. 129-156; and this writer’s forthcoming article, “The Relativity of the Ottoman-Safavid Divide.” See also Thomas Welsford’s contribution to this volume. Anonymous, ‘Âlamârâ-yi Safawî, ed. Yadullâh Shukrî, 2nd ed., (Tehran: Intishârât-i Ittilâ‘ât, 1363/1984), pp. 446-452. Iskandar Beg Munshî, Târîkh-i ‘Âlamârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî (Tehran: Amîr Kabîr, 1334/1955) I, p. 76; English translation by Roger Savory, History of Shah ‘Abbas (Boulder: Westview Press, 1978) II, p. 727. R.D. McChesney, “The Central Asian Hajj-Pilgrimage in the Time of the Early Modern Empires,” pp. 146-147.

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Bukhara, Balkh, Herat, Mashhad, Turbat-i Jam, Nishapur, Bistam, Isfahan, Shiraz, Baghdad, Kirkuk, Mosul, Aleppo, and Jerusalem. He ultimately spent three years as a mujâwir in Medina, performing the hajj in each of the years in question. It was, however, in Istanbul that Nidâ’î finally chose to settle, becoming the custodian of a kalenderhane at Eyüp that became known after him as the Kaşgarî Tekkesi; it was there that he died in 1760. Two conclusions are to be drawn from the fairly detailed account Nidâ’î left of his travels. The first is that he does not even hint at any encounter with sectarian hostility while passing through Iranian territory; from this it is surely permissible to conclude that in the early eighteenth century, at a time when the sectarian fervor of the recently deceased Mullâ Muhammad Bâqir Majlisî had supposedly reignited anti-Sunni fanaticism throughout Iran, it was possible for 44 a Central Asian dervish to traverse the country unimpeded. The second is that he provides detailed confirmation for the conjunction of ziyârat with hajj; virtually the only information he provides for each of the towns where he alighted are the 45 tombs of the saints and poets whom he visited. The feasibility of Iran as a route for Central Asian pilgrims, Sufi or otherwise, is confirmed by the trade with Iran regularly conducted by Bukharan merchants; 46 even outright warfare did not always suffice to stem the traffic. Traders could choose among a variety of options: they might travel via Chahâr-jûy to Merv and thence via Sarakhs to Mashhad; from Merv to Nishapur, Bistam and Rayy before proceeding thence either to Qazvin or to Kashan and Isfahan; or from Nishapur via 47 Isfara’in, Astarabad and Amul to Rayy and beyond. In at least one way, pilgrims were more favored than merchants: they lodged free of charge in Iranian cara48 vanserais while their mercantile colleagues had to pay a fairly stiff fee.

Dârü’l-Hilafe, Âsitâne-i Aliye: Istanbul It cannot be determined how frequently Central Asian pilgrims chose one of the Iranian routes. The record suggests, however, that from early times on, they elected far more often to travel via Istanbul, despite the fairly lengthy westward diversion 44 45

46 47

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It is, perhaps, worth recalling that one of the courtyards in the shrine of Imâm Rizâ in Mashhad is still frequented today by the Hanafis of Khurasan who visit his tomb. Hamid Algar, “From Kashghar to Eyüp: The Lineages and Legacy of Sheikh Abdullah Nidai,” in Elisabeth Özdalga, ed., Naqshbandis in Western and Central Asia (Swedish Research Institute in Istanbul, 1999), pp. 7-8. See, too, Güller Nuhoğlu, Abdullah Nidaîyi Kaşgarî ve Hakkıyye Risalesi (Istanbul: Simurg, 2004). Audrey Burton, Bukharan Trade, Papers on Inner Asia, No. 23 (Bloomington, Indiana: Research Institute for Inner Asian Studies, 1993), p. 20. Audrey Burton, The Bukharans: A Dynastic, Diplomatic and Commercial History, 1550-1702 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1997), pp. 399-402. See too map no. 3 (“Iran i Smezhnye Strany v Srednie Veka”) provided with V.V. Bartol’d, Sochineniia, IX (Moscow: Akademiia Nauk SSSR, Institut Vostokovedeniia, 1977). Audrey Burton, The Bukharans, p. 439.

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this occasioned. The glory and prestige of the city as the centre of Ottoman power was of course an important factor; relevant too was that from the time of Selim I onwards the Ottoman Sultans, in keeping with their caliphal dignity, styled themselves Khâdim al-Haramayn (“Servant of the Two Holy Cities”). Among the many titles with which they adorned themselves, it was this, perhaps, that they took most seriously. For a full four hundred years – from 1517 to 1917 – the Ottomans were 49 the supremely vigilant patrons of the hajj. It was with good reason that already in the sixteenth century Qutb al-Dîn al-Hanafî, mufti of the Haramayn, proclaimed that “under no rule have the people of the Haramayn ever prospered as they have under that of the House of ‘Osmân; may Allah prolong their days until the scales 50 are erected [on the Day of Judgement].”

Central Asian Naqshbandî Settlers in Istanbul Cultural and religious links between the Ottomans and Central Asia, however, antedated the Ottoman assumption of the caliphate by several decades. This is conveniently illustrated by the migrations in opposite directions of two celebrated astronomers and mathematicians: that of Kadızâde Rûmî (d. 1413) from Bursa to Samarkand, and that of Ali Kuşçu (d. 1474), the pupil he instructed in Samarkand, to Istanbul. It is within this context of Ottoman-Timurid intercourse that may be placed the early implantation of the Naqshbandiyya in Istanbul, which came to play a significant role in the appeal of the city for Central Asian pilgrims en route to the Hijaz. Two murîds of Ahrâr, Mullâ ‘Abd Allâh Ilâhî/Abdullâh Ilâhî (d. 1490) and Shaykh/Emîr Ahmad Bukhârî/Ahmed Buhârî (d. 1516), established together the first Naqshbandî presence in the Ottoman capital. Ilâhî fled the turmoil of Istanbul for a more tranquil location in Thrace, but the latter remained, and the lasting influence he acquired was reflected in the foundation of three tekkes all named after him as Emir Buhârî Tekkesi. The first was built for him by Sultan Bayezid II in the Hocaüveys quarter of Fatih; the second by Emîr Buhârî himself in 1512 at Ayvansaray; and the third, most probably, by his son-in-law and principal khalîfa, 51 Hâce Mahmud Efendi (d. 1531), on the old road between Edirnekapı and Eyüp. 49 50 51

Even before the formal assumption of the caliphate by Sultan Selim, the Ottomans had been sending stipends and supplies to the Haramayn every hajj season; see Kadir Mısıroğlu, Hilafet, Geçmişi ve Geleceği ile (Istanbul: Sebil Yayınları, 1993), p. 119, fn. 97. Cited by Atallah S. Copty, “The Naqshbandiyya and Its Offshoot, the NaqshbandiyyaMujaddidiyya in the Haramayn in the 11th/17th Century,” Die Welt des Islams 43:3 (2003), p. 321. M. Baha Tanman, “Emîr Buhârî Tekkesi,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, XI, pp. 127-128; Thierry Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” Anatolia Moderna/Yeni Anadolu, II: Derviches et Cimetières Ottomans (Bibliothèque de l’Institut Français d’Études Anatoliennes d’Istanbul, XXXIV), pp. 140-141.

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Not to be confused with any of Emîr Buhârî’s establishments is the Murâd Buhârî Tekkesi in the Nişancılar quarter of Eyüp, established almost two centuries later by Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî (d. 1720). A major propagator of the Mujaddidî branch of the Naqshbandiyya in the western Islamic lands, he exemplifies more fully than any other figure mentioned in this essay the role of the Naqshbandiyya in assuring cultural and spiritual communication among Central Asia, India, and the Ottoman lands, including Istanbul, Bursa, Damascus, Jerusalem, and the Hara52 mayn. Left permanently lame by a bout of infantile paralysis when he was three, Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî nonetheless travelled more widely and insistently than 53 any other figure in the history of the Naqshbandiyya. His sojourns in India, the Haramayn, Jerusalem and Damascus, all preceding his first arrival in Istanbul, will 54 be discussed separately below. In 1681, Muhammad Murâd came to Istanbul for the first time, at the invitation of several notables. It was the ensuing five-year sojourn in the Ottoman capital that resulted in the foundation of the tekke bearing his name in Eyüp; originally a madrasa, it was converted to suit Bukhârî’s purposes by Şeyhülislam Damadzâde Ahmed Efendi. Numerous scholars and notables became his followers, among them Kilisli Ali Efendi (d. 1734), who accompanied him on many of his journeys and was his first successor at the tekke; Seyyid Feyzullah Efendi (d. 1703), instrumental in first having him invited to Istanbul; La‘lizâde Abdülbaki (d. 1746), better known as a Melâmî-Bayramî than as a Naqshbandî; and Ebû Saîd Muhammed Hâdimî (d. 55 1762), a prolific and influential writer on a variety of subjects. Of particular interest among the devotees Muhammad Murâd acquired in Istanbul is a fellow Bukharan, known either as Rahmat Allâh or as Nazîmâ, this being the penname he used in his Turkish and Persian poetry. He first arrived in the Ottoman capital in the company of a Bukharan envoy to Ahmed III, and four months later went on to perform the hajj. Returning to Istanbul, Rahmatullâh settled in the quarter of Sütlüce on the northern shore of the Golden Horn, frequently crossing over to com56 mune in Eyüp with Muhammad Murâd; he died there around 1751. This pattern of Rahmat Allâh’s life may be viewed as presaging the conjunction between hajj, 52 53 54 55 56

Thierry Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” pp. 144-145. It is curious that there were two further cases of disability in this line of Naqshbandî transmission: Shaykh Ahmad Yakdast (“one-handed”) Jûryânî, concerning whom see below, p. 67; and Yekçeşm (“one-eyed”) Murtaza Efendi (d. 1747), a khalîfa of Jûryânî. See pp. 46, 62, 63. Given the primarily geographical structuring of this essay and the consequent fragmentation of Muhammad Murâd’s biography, we provide, by way of compensation, a chronological overview of his life in Appendix A. See Halil Ibrahim Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik (Istanbul: Suf Yayınları, 2004), pp. 140-154. Muhammad Khalîl al-Murâdî, Silk al-Durar fî A‘yân al-Qarn al-Thânî ‘Ashar, reprint (Beirut: Dâr Ibn Hazm, 1408/1988), II, p. 115.

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Central Asian diplomacy, and the Naqshbandiyya, that became common – almost 57 commonplace – in the nineteenth century. In 1686, Muhammad Murâd left for a lengthy period of residence in Damascus, interrupted by his third and fourth performances of the hajj, and it was not until 1708 that he returned to Istanbul, taking up residence not in the tekke bearing his name but in a house near the mosque of Sultân Selim. This choice resulted perhaps from a wish to palliate the suspicions to which the size of his following had given rise. Certain is that he was effectively deported from Istanbul; despite a pretense that he was being honourably conveyed to the Hijaz, to perform the hajj yet again, he was put ashore at Alanya, whence he proceeded via Konya and Kütahya to Bursa. In 1718, he was permitted to return to Istanbul. At first he lodged in the villa of Reisületibbâ Nuh Efendi near the mosque of Ebu Eyüp Ensârî before resum58 ing residence in the tekke at Nişancıpaşa; he died there in 1720. This tekke, too, seems not to have maintained any link with Central Asia; the shaykhs entrusted with its administration were all from the Ottoman lands, with two very late excep59 tions. All the tekkes mentioned so far – the three associated with Emîr Buhârî, the one named for Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî – were fully integrated into the Ottoman environment. They served as a residence for a limited number of murîds and functioned primarily as a setting for the practice of the tarîqat; they did not maintain a defining relationship with Central Asia, and their administration was gener60 ally vested in shaykhs from the Ottoman lands. In their case, “Buhârî/Bukhârî” is not an ethnonym but simply the distinguishing element in the name of the founder. The matter is utterly different with a cluster of Istanbul tekkes named not after their founders, but known simply as Bukharan or Uzbek tekkes. Tekkes belonging to this category were indeed typically administered by Naqshbandî shaykhs and witnessed the devotional rites associated with the order, but they functioned primarily as places of lodging for Central Asian pilgrims on their way to the Hijaz; they were hostels for travellers rather than devotional centers for residents of the districts in which they were located. 57 58 59

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See pp. 76-80 below. al-Murâdî, Silk al-Durar, IV, pp. 129-131; Şeyhî Mehmed Efendi, Vekâyiü’l-Fudalâ, ed. Abdülkadir Özcan (Istanbul: Çağrı Yayınları, 1989), III, pp. 673-675; Thierry Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” pp. 144-145. The exceptions were Shaykh Sulaymân Balkhî (d. 1877), an immigrant from Balkh with mutliple tarîqat affiliations, and his son, Shaykh ‘Abd al-Qâdir Balkhî. See Zâkir Şükrî Efendi, Die Istanbuler Derwisch-Konvente und ihre Scheiche (Mecmu’a-i Tekaya), transliterated and edited by Klaus Kreiser (Freiburg im Breisgau: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1980), p. 56. See the lists of presiding shaykhs given in Zâkir Şükrî Efendi, Die Istanbuler DerwischKonvente und ihre Scheiche (Mecmu’a-i Tekaya), pp. 54, 66.

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The Uzbek Tekkes of Istanbul The earliest Uzbek tekke was that built in 1692, adjacent to the Sokollu Mehmet 61 Paşa complex in the Küçük Ayasofya district of the city. It was founded by Ismail Efendi, defterdar of Istanbul, expressly to house Naqshbandîs from Central Asia on 62 their way to the Hijaz. According to the son of the last presiding shaykh, Abdurrahman Efendi (d. 1953), the affluent among the travellers used to present money to the postnişin; this he would place beneath his post for their poorer counterparts to 63 draw on as needed. An average stay was between a week and ten days. These arrangements were presumably of long standing. The uninterrupted links this tekke enjoyed with Central Asia came to acquire a diplomatic and political aspect in the 64 nineteenth century. Better known, perhaps, is the Özbekler Tekkesi at Sultantepe, first built in 1753 on a hill above Üsküdar with a commanding view of the Bosphorus. According to a founding legend still being related in the 1970s, Central Asian pilgrims would pitch their tents at this location before resuming their journey to the Hijaz. One day, they caught the attention of Sultan Mustafa III who was enjoying an incognito promenade nearby. After making the acquaintance of the Naqshbandî shaykh who was their leader, he promised to establish a tekke for future pilgrims on the same 65 site so they could dispense with their tents. Probably, however, the founder was Abdullâh Paşa (d. 1754), onetime governor of Maraş, who had the same purpose of providing shelter for pilgrims making their way from Central Asia. The first postnişin was appointed five years later, and at about the same time the structure was 66 expanded by Şeyh Abdullâh el-Ekber (d. 1787), an immigrant from Samarkand. Like its counterpart in Küçük Ayasofya, it, too, came to fulfil a variety of ancillary 67 roles in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In the district of Bülbüldere, not far from Sultantepe, was to be found yet another Özbekler Tekkesi, founded by a certain Şah Haydar Taşkendî. One Ottoman source describes him simply as an Uzbek prince who acquired a Naqshbandî affiliation and left Bukhara with the clearly defined aim of settling in Istanbul. He wrote 61 62 63 64 65 66 67

In order to distinguish this tekke from its more celebrated counterpart at Sultantepe, we will refer to it as the tekke at Küçük Ayasofya. Thierry Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” p. 150; M. Baha Tanman, “Özbekler Tekkesi (Küçük Ayasofya),” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, XXXIV, pp. 121-123. Grace Martin Smith, “The Özbek Tekkes of Istanbul,” Der Islam LVII:1 (1980), p. 138. Similar practices were observed at Sirhind; see below, p. 61-62. See below, pp. 76-78. Grace Martin Smith, “The Özbek Tekkes of Istanbul,” p. 131. M. Baha Tanman, “Özbekler Tekkesi (Sultantepe),” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, XXXIV, p. 123; Thierry Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” p. 147. See below, pp. 75, 81, 105.

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poetry in Persian and Turkish using the penname “Rasâ” and died in 1700 at the 68 tekke he had established. His life appears, however, to have been considerably more complex and eventful. Şah Haydar was the murîd of Bâbâ Shâh Sa‘îd Palangpûsh, a Naqshbandî of qalandar temperament whose wanderings began in Ghijduwan near Bukhara and ended at Awrangabad in the Deccan. From India, it is said, Şah Haydar “travelled to Ethiopia; went to Europe; was imprisoned in Ethiopia for some reason; with the aid of Khidr was freed from his bonds; made his way to Mecca, where he attained the felicity of performing the hajj; and then 69 came to the land of Rum…” Once he had established himself at Üsküdar, he was visited incognito by Sultan Mustafa II and his vizier to inquire whether he might require their assistance. He reassured them that the forty mendicant qalandars he had in attendance were amply providing for his needs and those of his guests. A large oil lantern was always left burning at the top of a pole to guide travellers try70 ing to make their way to the tekke at night. How long Şah Haydar’s tekke remained functioning is uncertain. Not to be confused with the Şâh Haydar of Bülbüldere is the Baba Haydar who founded a tekke in the Düğmeciler district of Eyüp. A native of Samarkand, he had been initiated there into the Naqshbandiyya by a khalîfa of Ahrâr, not long after the great master’s death. At some point, probably in his early youth, he left Samarkand to go on the hajj, and he then stayed on in Mecca for an indeterminate number of years as mujâwir. He may have travelled to the Hijaz by way of Istanbul, for it was a sense of attachment to that city and its people that ultimately drew him there from Mecca, some time in the reign of Kânûnî Süleyman. He took up residence in a modest dwelling not far from the shrine of Eyüp, quickly acquiring a reputation for pious humility that brought the sultan to his threshold and induced him to establish a tekke for his benefit. There is no evidence that Baba Haydar generated a line of spiritual descent or that the tekke served a local constituency; it, too, was a hostel for Central Asians on their way 71 to the Hijaz.

68 69 70 71

Şeyhî Mehmed Efendi, Vekâyiü’l-Fudalâ, II, p. 205. Bâbâ Shâh Mahmûd Jî, Malfûzât-i Naqshbandiyya, cited in Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” p. 157, n. 81. Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” p. 158. The similarity of this narrative to the founding legend of the tekke at Sultantepe is surely not coincidental. Hamid Algar, Nakşibendîlik (Istanbul: Ínsan Yayınları, 2007), pp. 474-475. The mosque attached to the tekke did, however, serve a wider public, particularly after its expansion during the reign of Mustafa III; see M. Baha Tanman, “Baba Haydar Camii ve Tekkesi,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, IV, pp. 367-368.

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Largesse for the Elite: Central Asian Shaykhs at the Ottoman Court Such were the facilities available in Istanbul to Central Asian pilgrims of all ranks. As for prominent shaykhs passing through Istanbul en route to the hajj, they might hope to benefit from royal patronage, or at least to obtain an audience with the sultan. Several instances pertaining to the progeny of Ahrâr are on record. Perhaps the earliest relates to Khwâja ‘Abd al-Hâdî (d. 1531), a grandson of Ahrâr, who, meeting with “the Sultan of Rûm,” spurned the gifts he offered him, demanding instead 72 the remission of a certain tax levied on “God’s servants.” Khwâja Sâdiq, a fifth generation descendant of Ahrâr, also chose to travel via Istanbul. Reaching the Ottoman capital after a brief sojourn in the Crimea, he found the Sultan of the day awaiting him reverentially, for the previous night the long-deceased Ahrâr had taken care to alert him in a dream to Khwâja Sâdiq’s imminent arrival. Khwâja Sâdiq also died in Istanbul, while on his way home after performing the 73 hajj. Another Sâdiq to benefit from Ottoman patronage both in Istanbul and on the hajj was Ahmad Sâdiq Tâshkandî (d. 1586). He was a murîd first of Khwâja Ahmad Kâsânî Makhdûm-i A‘zam and then of Muhammad Islâm Jûybârî (d. 1563). A dream in which he saw himself commanded to spread the Naqshbandî tarîqat in the broader Islamic world prompted him to leave Tashkent for Istanbul where he became postnişin at the Emir Buhârî tekke in Fatih. It was from there that he set out on the hajj, first in roughly 1572 and then again in 1583. On the second occasion, his expenses were met by Vezir Ibrahim Paşa, and more significantly he enjoyed the favour of Murad III. According to the account of the second pilgrimage provided by one of his murîds, Ahmad Mustafâ Sâdiqî, he strove mightily on both the outward and return journeys – in Egypt, Jerusalem and Damascus, as well as at the Haramayn – to disseminate the Naqshbandî path and to revive it wherever it 74 had fallen into desuetude. No Naqshbandî presence at the Haramayn resulted from his efforts, however, and the only person known to have been initiated by him during the entire voyage was ‘Abd al-Ghaffâr al-Qudsî, the Hanafi mufti of 72

73 74

Since Khwâja ‘Abd al-Hâdî is said to have performed the hajj some time before the death of his grandfather in 1490, the sultan in question must have been either Fatih Mehmet or Bayezid II, probably the former. See ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Abû al-Fath alHusaynî, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, ms. Esad Ef. 1688/2, f. 57a; Mukhlisabonu Kadyrova, Zhitiia Khodzha Akhrara, p. 105; and ‘Ârif Nawshâhî, Ahwâl va Sukhanân-i Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr (Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i Dânishgâhî, 1380/ 2001), p. 69. ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Abû al-Fath al-Husaynî, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, f. 74b. This, of course, implies that the Naqshbandiyya had once been implanted in at least some of the places mentioned, and of this there is little evidence.

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Jerusalem. Instead, it was in Istanbul that Ahmad Sâdiq Tâshkandî’s lineage proved 75 able to perpetuate itself, for at least three generations. It was also while returning from the hajj of 1572 that another Central Asian Naqshbandî, Shaykh Muhammad b. Kamâl al-Dîn of Tashkent, met in Istanbul with Selim II; he was given a house near Aya Sofya and a generous stipend, and 76 not surprisingly he decided to spend the rest of his life in Istanbul. Primarily Kubrawî but also Naqshbandî in his affiliations was ‘Abd al-Latîf Jâmî. He had quit his native Khurasan when it came under Safavid rule and sought refuge first in Bukhara and then in Samarkand. He arrived in Istanbul while en route to the hajj in 1553 and was reverentially received by Kânûnî Süleyman, whom he is said to have instructed in the Kubrawî method of dhikr. He performed the hajj two or perhaps three years in succession before returning to Central Asia, surviving a perilous journey that claimed the lives of several of his companions 77 only to die in Khwârazm soon after arriving there safely in 1556. Another Central Asian who two decades later found his way to the Ottoman capital with the Haramayn as ultimate destination was Ahmed Hazînî; he was aware of ‘Abd al-Latîf Jâmî’s role as an agent of Kubrawî transmission and may 78 have had some connection to his spiritual lineage. Born at Hisâr-i Shâdmân in roughly 1533, Hazînî had both Yasawî and Naqshbandî affiliations, the former acquired from a certain Sayyid Mansûr and the latter from one Mullâ Amîn. When Hazînî was twenty-five years of age, his Yasawî preceptor had left to go on the hajj, and although he died considerably short of his goal, in Diyarbekir, he predicted that Hazînî would follow in his footsteps seven years later. He dutifully fulfilled the prediction and after a time spent at Sayyid Mansûr’s tomb, he went on to Istanbul. Selim II had by now succeeded Kânûnî Süleyman, and it was with his help that Hazînî was able to go on the hajj and take up residence in Mecca: bâ 79 ‘inâyât-i shahanshâh-i avân / bâz rafta dar haram kardam makân. Royal favour evidently continued into the next reign, for when Murad III came to the throne in 75 76 77

78

79

Necdet Tosun, Bahâeddîn Nakşbend, pp. 278-279; Dina Le Gall, A Culture of Sufism: Naqshbandis in the Ottoman World, 1450-1700 (Albany: State University Press of New York, 2005), pp. 88-89. Nev’îzâde ‘Atâî, Hadâ’ikü’l-Hakâ’ik fî Tekmileti’l-Şakâ’ik (Istanbul: n.p., 1268/1852), pp. 215-216. Nev’îzâde ‘Atâî, Hadâ’ikü’l-Hakâ’ik fî Tekmileti’l-Şakâ’ik, p. 72, 81. On ‘Abd al-Latîf Jâmî’s reputed Naqshbandî affiliation; see Necdet Tosun, Bahâeddîn Nakşbend, p. 408, n. 41. This may rest, however, on the making of an unconscious association between him and ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî, who was indubitably a Naqshbandî, even emphatically so. Hazînî, Hujjat al-Abrâr dar Asâmî-yi Awliyâ-yi Kibâr, ms. ancien fonds persan, Bibliothèque Nationale, 1226, f. 136a. It is, however, chronologically impossible that the two should have met, whether in Istanbul or elsewhere, unless the date given by Nev’îzâde ‘Atâî for the death of ‘Abd al-Latîf Jâmî is severely erroneous. Hazînî, Cevâhirü’l-Ebrâr min Emvâc-i Bihâr, ed. Cihan Okuyucu (Kayseri: Erciyes Üniversitesi, 1995), p. 140.

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1574 Hazînî returned to Istanbul to pay his respects. Indeed the sultan was, Hazînî opined, the only person in the whole of Istanbul to be attentive to the claims of the Sufi path, a hyperbolic judgement that surely reflects a continuing receipt of patronage. He stayed on in Istanbul accordingly until his death some twenty years later, exception made only of at least one more hajj and a return visit to Hisar. Hazînî reports that he regularly dispensed guidance on his pilgrimages to Mecca and Medina, as well as during sojourns en route in Jerusalem and periods of residence in Istanbul, but there is no evidence that his activity resulted in the dissemina80 tion of any of the tarîqats to which he was affiliated. The route that Hazînî followed on his first journey to Istanbul is unknown; it cannot, however, have included Astrakhan, for this city at the head of the Caspian Sea, an important waystation for Central Asian pilgrims, had been lost to the Russi81 ans in 1556. The resulting blockage of a major pilgrimage route was of direct concern to the Ottomans, for their caliphal duties included not only protecting the Haramayn but also, within the limits of the possible, keeping open the roads lead82 ing thither, even in regions distant from their domains. Seven years after the loss of Astrakhan, responding to numerous petitions from those affected, and in the hope of preventing further Russian advances, Kânûnî Süleyman therefore planned a campaign against Astrakhan, only to call it off when the siege of Malta demanded his immediate attention. In the reign of Selim II, Sokollu Mehmed Paşa decided instead to build a canal between the Don and the Volga in order to link the Black and Caspian Seas as a preliminary to recapturing Astrakhan. The task was entrusted in 1568 to Kasım Bey, the ruler of Kefe, but first the terrain proved intractable, and then Russian intrigue caused him to destroy the fortifications he had built on the 83 outskirts of Astrakhan and quit the field of battle. Astrakhan was thus lost per80

81

82

83

Hazînî, Menba‘u’l-Ebhâr fî Riyâzi’l-Ebrâr, ms. Şehid Ali Paşa 1425, ff. 29a-b. On Hazînî, see further Necdet Tosun, “Yesevîliğin İlk Dönemine Âid bir Risâle: Mir’âtül-Kulûb”, İLAM Araştırma Dergisi II:2 (July-August 1997), pp. 41-85; Cihan Okuyucu, “Hazinî ve Yeni Bulunan Eserleri,” Journal of Turkish Studies XXVIII:1 (2004), pp. 205-223; and Okuyucu’s introduction to his edition of Cevâhirü’l-Ebrâr min Emvâc-i Bihâr, pp. v-vii. Robert McChesney suggests, however, that the emphasis placed by the Ottomans on the value of Astrakhan as a waystation for Central Asian pilgrims was “a calculated if ultimately futile effort to persuade Sunni rulers to the east” to support their campaign for recapturing the city from the Russians (“The Central Asian Hajj-Pilgrimage in the Time of the Early Modern Empires,” p. 133). The obligation of securing the hajj routes had long been enshrined in classical theories of the caliphate; it was, for example, included among the five principal responsibilities of the office by Abû Bakr Muhammad al-Bâqillânî (d. 1013). See his al-Tamhîd fî alRadd ‘alâ al-Mulhidat al-Mu‘attila wa al-Râfida wa al-Khawârij wa al-Mu‘tazila, eds. Mahmûd Muhammad al-Khudayrî and Muhammad ‘Abd al-Hâdî Abû Ridâ (Cairo: Matba‘at al-Khânjî, 1366/1947), p. 186. On the project for a Volga-Don canal, see Ismaill Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Tarihi, III:1, pp. 33-38, 3:2, pp. 150-151; Halil Inalcık, “The Origins of Ottoman-Russian Rivalry

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manently to Russian rule, and it was insistent diplomatic representations on the part of the Ottomans, rather than military campaigns, that were able finally to ob84 tain the reopening of the Astrakhan-Istanbul route in 1571.

A Tekke in Bursa and Two in Tarsus If the Central Asian pilgrim chose to proceed overland from Istanbul, facilities similar to those in the Ottoman capital were available to him from the sixteenth century onwards in two Anatolian locations, widely separated from each other: Bursa and Tarsus. The precise origins of the Buhârâ (or Özbekler) Tekkesi of Bursa are unknown; the founder may have been a certain Şeyh Süleyman Efendi, whose tombstone proclaims him to have been postnişin at the tekke until his death in 1570. A recorded, almost complete, line of succession begins with Şeyh Abdurrahman Efendi (d. 1744), of whose life virtually nothing is known. Next came Şeyh Âşûr Mehmed Efendi (d. 1757), a khalîfa of the Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî mentioned above in connection with the tekke in Nişanlıca; the association between the two men may indeed have begun in Bursa, for Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî spent five full years there after his effective deportation from Istanbul to Anatolia in 1711. Şeyh Âşûr’s tenure seems to have been of particular importance, despite its evident brevity, for the tekke was known for a while as Âşûr Efendi Dergahı. The next postnişin of whom a record exists is Şeyh Mehmed Niyâzî Efendi (d. 1819); chronology suggests that he was preceded by at least one other postnişin after Âşûr Efendi. Next came Ahmed Şah Efendi (d. 1828) and Şeyh Ali Burhaneddin Efendi 85 (d. 1848). Given the terms of the vakfiyye governing the tekke – reaffirmed in a firman dated 1836 – it can be presumed that all the preceding figures were of Bukharan or 86 other Central Asian origin. With the next postnişin, Şeyh Said Can (d. 1873), whose tenure lasted for more than forty years, there can be no room for doubt: a Persian chronogram on his tombstone describes him as having been “one of the 87 nobles of Bukhara” (ba mulk-i Bukhârâ az shurafâ bûd) before coming to Bursa.

84

85 86 87

and the Don-Volga Canal,” Türk Tarih Kurumu: Belleten, 1948, pp. 47-100, and Akdes Nimet Kurat, “The Turkish Expedition to Astrakhan and the Problem of the Don-Volga Canal,” Slavonic and East European Review, December 1961, pp. 7-23. Reşid Rahmeti Arat, “Astırhan,” Íslam Ansiklopedisi, I, p. 681; Michael Khodarkovsky, “The Conversion of Non-Christians in Early Modern Russia,” in Robert P. Geraci and Khodarkovsky, eds., Of Religion and Empire: Missions, Conversion and Tolerance in Tsarist Russia (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2001), p. 121. Mehmed Şemseddin, Yadıgar-ı Şemsî (Bursa: Matba‘a-yı Vilayet, 1332/1914), pp. 240241; Mustafa Kara, Bursa’da Tarikatlar ve Tekkeler , 2nd ed. (Bursa: Sır Yayıncılık, 2001), p. 238. Facsimile of the firman in Mustafa Kara, Bursa’da Tarikatlar ve Tekkeler, 1st ed. (Bursa: Uludağ Yayınları, 1990), I, p. 213. Mehmed Şemseddin, Yadıgar-ı Şemsî, p. 241.

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He was succeeded by his son, Şeyh Abdurrahman Efendi (not to be confused with the identically named postnişin mentioned above). When he died without issue a mere six years later, the administration of the tekke passed to a person that happened to bear exactly the same name as his father: Şeyh Said Can. The life of this second Şeyh Said Can illustrates pleasingly the interconnection between the Central Asian hajj, tarîqat activity in the Haramayn, and the administration of tekkes dedicated to Central Asian pilgrims in Ottoman Turkey. Born in Khwârazm, he left to go on the hajj with his family, and stayed on as mujâwir first for seven years in Mecca, and then for a further thirteen years in Medina. There he found employment as a painter, working on the restoration of the Prophet’s Mosque, and – perhaps more significantly – he joined the following of Shaykh Muhammad 88 Sa‘îd, an Indian shaykh of the Mujaddidî branch of the Naqshbandîya. From the Haramayn he came to Istanbul, and took up residence in one of the Bukhârî tekkes of the city. On the death of Şeyh Abdurrahman Efendi in 1879, he was assigned the direction of the Buhârâ Tekkesi in Bursa, a post he held until his death in 1898. He was succeeded first by his son, Mehmed Emin Efendi (d. 1921), and then by Hafız Sadullah Efendi, the last postnişin before the forced closure of all the tekkes in Tur89 key. Although the second Şeyh Said Can continued to preside over the recitation of the defining Naqshbandî litany, the khatm-i khwâjagân, during his tenure at the Buhârâ Tekkesi in the late nineteenth century, the adjoining tevhîdhâne – the structure dedicated to precisely such devotional purposes – had fallen into ruin. The tekke itself was essentially devoted to the lodging of travellers from Bukhara, as indicated by the growing currency of its alternative designation, Özbekler 90 Tekkesi. The history of this establishment in Bursa, sparse though the record may be, suggests therefore that, in differing proportions at different times, it was both a site for the practice of the Naqshbandî tarîqat, with perhaps some degree of local participation; and also a waystation for Central Asian pilgrims, on their way to and from the Haramayn. The evidence linking two tekkes in Tarsus and its environs to the Naqshbandiyya and, indeed, to the hajj traffic from Central Asia, is considerably more tenuous. The designation they had in common – Türkistan Zaviyesi – makes it plain, however, that they were definingly connected to that vast region. One, located in the Kızılmurad district of the city, was allegedly founded in 1379 by a certain Şeyh Abdullâh Mencek, a fourth generation descendant of a luminary of early 88 89 90

Shaykh Muhammad Sa‘îd was son and successor of Muhammad Jân Bâjawrî, concerning whom see p. 82-83 below. Mustafa Kara, Bursa’da Tarikatlar ve Tekkeler, 2nd ed., pp. 238-239; Mehmed Şemseddin, Yadıgar-ı Şemsî, pp. 240-243. Mehmed Şemseddin, Yadıgar-ı Şemsî, p. 240 (hal-ı hazırda Buhara’dan gelen seyyâhînin ikâmetine mahsustur).

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Sufism, Shaykh Abû al-Qâsim al-Qushayrî (d. 1072). This seems doubtful, for the three centuries separating these two personages from each other probably witnessed more than four generations, unless each link in the genealogical chain was blessed with unusual longevity. Another suspicious circumstance is that the vakfiyye identifying Şeyh Abdullâh Mencek as founder of the tekke bears the seal of another figure descended from a celebrated early Sufi, Ma‘rûf al-Karkhî (d. 815); this “Karkhîzâda” was supposedly the qâdî of Tarsus at the time the tekke was founded. Such a coincidental presence in fourteenth century Tarsus of two lines of descent from prominent Sufis seems a priori improbable. In addition to all this, the paper on which the extant vakıf document is written cannot be not more than two 91 hundred years old. The vakfiyye may then be tentatively characterised as the inventively enriched copy of a lost original. There is no reason, however, to doubt the historicity of later personages cited in the vakfiyye as attesting to the continuous fulfilment of its provisions. The earliest of these individuals is Mehmed Efendi, a qâdî of Tarsus who appended his signature to the vakfiyye on Jumâdâ al-Ûlâ 14, 1019/July 22, 1610. This may point to an origin for the tekke in the early seven92 teenth century. The primary function of the tekke is defined as the provision of three days’ food and lodging to “indigent dervish travellers” (fukarâ-ı seyyâhîn-i dervişân) from Central Asia. In order to be eligible for such hospitality, such travellers had, however, to be natives of one of sixty-four carefully specified towns and regions. The list, which seems to betoken a kind of pan-Turkistani consciousness, includes localities from as far east as Kashgar and Ferghana and as far west as Balkh. Further, in order to check the credentials of those applying for hospitality at the tekke and weed out the undeserving, its servitors and administrators had themselves to 93 originate from one or other of the specified locations. Similar in several respects to the tekke attributed to Şeyh Abdullâh Mencek is the hospice located in the village of İncirpınarı near Tarsus. According to the relevant vakfiyye, it was founded some time in the late eighth/fourteenth century by Şeyh ‘Abd al-Ghafûr, a descendant of Abû al-Qâsim Kurragânî (d. 1073), yet another stalwart of early Sufism. Its function was, again, to provide food and shelter for 91 92

93

Writing in 1965, Halim Baki Kunter put the age of the document at roughly a hundred and fifty years. See his “Tarsus’taki Türkistan Zaviyelerinin Vakfiyeleri,” Vakıflar Dergisi VI (1965), pp. 31-32. This possibility is strengthened by the claim of Hidayet Beyce, custodian of the tekke in the 1930s, to be descended from Uzbeks who had settled in the region of Tarsus some three hundred years earlier. See Gunnar Jarring, “The Türkistan tekke of Tarsus: On the Relationship of Southern Turkey with Central Asia,” Svenska Forskningsinstitutet i Istanbul: Meddelanden, VIII (1983), p. 34. Kunter, “Tarsus’taki Türkistan Zaviyelerinin Vakfiyeleri,” pp. 37-39; Jarring, “The Türkistan tekke of Tarsus: On the Relationship of Southern Turkey with Central Asia,” pp. 37-38.

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three days to travellers and dervishes from a specified range of places, in this case 94 westerly locations inhabited or frequented by Turkmen. Both tekkes appear then, to have functioned primarily or even exclusively as resting places for travellers from various regions of Central Asia; they were not linked by statute to the Naqshbandiyya. Insofar as those whom they were prepared to receive were described as “dervishes,” it seems safe to assume, however, that many among them must have been Naqshbandîs. In addition, the tekke within the city – known alternatively as Buhara Tekkesi – has buried in its forecourt a certain 95 Abdülaziz Nakşibendî; the date on his türbe is 1842. The stipulation that guests of the tekkes receive food and lodging for three days reflects, of course, the standard ordinance, grounded in the Sunna, that all categories of traveller – not pilgrims alone – have a claim to such hospitality. It seems entirely possible, however, that the Central Asian dervishes who passed through Tarsus were indeed on their way 96 to the hajj.

Damascus and Aleppo Point of departure for one of the major hajj caravans down to the very end of the Ottoman period, Damascus was a principal waystation for pilgrims pursuing their journey overland from Istanbul, including members of the sultan’s family and other Ottoman notables; it is not without justice that the hajj has been described as 97 “centerpiece of Ottoman rule in Damascus.” As late as 1853, Richard Burton described the Damascus caravan as “the main stream which carries off all the small currents that, at this season of general movement, flow from Central Asia towards 98 the great centre of the Islamitic world.” It was also replete with sites for pious visitation: the purported tombs of Dhû al-Kifl and Hûd on the slopes of Mt. Qâsiyûn overlooking the city; caves in the side of the mountain linked to the memory of the Ashâb al-Kahf mentioned in Quran, 18:9-26, and others to Adam, Cain and Abel; the tombs of numerous Companions of the Prophet; and the resting places of Sufis such as Muhyi al-Dîn Ibn ‘Arabî and ‘Abd al-Ghanî al-Nâbulsî, both figures respec-

94 95 96

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Kunter, “Tarsus’taki Türkistan Zaviyelerinin Vakfiyeleri,” pp. 44-46. Nihat Aytürk and Bayram Altan, Türkiye’de Dini Ziyaret Yerleri (Ankara: Altanoğlu İlim ve Kültür Hizmetleri, 1992), p. 176. This is contested by Jarring, who describes Tarsus as “an out-of the-way city on the roads leading to Mecca” (“The Türkistan tekke of Tarsus: On the Relationship of Southern Turkey with Central Asia,” p. 39). A stay in Tarsus would not, however, have required a major diversion from the main routes leading from Anatolia to Syria and beyond. Karl K. Barbir, Ottoman Rule in Damascus, 1708-1758 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), p. 108. Richard F. Burton, Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to al-Madinah and Meccah (London: Tylston and Edwards, 1893), I, p. 416.

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ted or even revered by certain strands of Naqshbandî tradition. To do pious justice to this plenitude would have required a fairly prolonged stay. It is surprising, therefore, that Damascus seems not to have possessed any of the tekkes for Central Asian pilgrims of the type that existed in Istanbul. The explanation may be that the presence of the Naqshbandiyya in the city remained slight for several centuries, for it was not until the emergence of its Khâlidî branch in the early nineteenth century that the order became a fixed and important part of its religious landscape. One Central Asian khalîfa of Ahrâr, Mawlânâzâda ‘Abdullâh Utrârî, gained permission from his master to travel to the Hijaz, and after performing the hajj he established a tekke in Damascus, not far from the Umayyad Mosque, after sojourns of unknown length in Mecca and Aleppo; he was visited there by ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî on his return from the hajj in 1473, an indication, perhaps, that Utrârî enjoyed some local 100 prestige. The administration of this tekke was inherited by a certain Muhammad Amîn Badakhshî (d. 1547), during whose tenure it was twice visited by Yavuz Sultân Selim. Thereafter, however, it seems to have sunk into obscurity or entirely 101 ceased functioning. More significant were the several institutions established in Damascus by Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî, the same to whom is due the tekke named after him in Istanbul. Although he spent roughly twelve years of his life in Istanbul and it became his final resting place, he is frequently designated in Indian Naqshbandî sources as “Shâmî,” perhaps an indication that his activity in Damascus was regarded, at least from afar, as more significant and fruitful than his three sojourns in the Ottoman capital. It was, after all, in Damascus that he established a lineage, at once spiritual, intellectual, and biological, that for many centuries counted as one of the city’s most respected learned families; and there, too, that he established institutions dedicated both to learning and to the propagation of the Naqshbandî tarîqat. The number, location, function and lifespan of the foundations he established in Damascus are, however, somewhat uncertain. Some time during his first period of residence, between 1669 and 1681, he built near the Bâb al-Barîd what appears to have been a complex including a mosque and two madrasas, the smaller of which is said to have been a gathering place for notables and scholars; it had a large library and was sometimes referred to as the Azhar of Damascus. The madrasa at the core ‘Alî b. Abî Bakr al-Harawî, Kitâb al-Ishârât ilâ Ma‘rifat al-Ziyârât, ed. with translation by Josef W. Meri as A Lonely Wayfarer’s Guide to Pilgrimage (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), pp. 24-25; Muhammad Kurd ‘Alî, Khitat al-Shâm (Beirut: Dâr al-‘Ilm li al-Malâyîn, 1391/1971), VI, pp. 153-154. 100 Kâshifî, Rashahât-i ‘Ayn al-Hayât, II, p. 641; Muhammad Qazwînî, Silsila-nâma-yi Khwâjagân-i Naqshband, f. 17a. 101 Najm al-Dîn al-Ghazzî, al-Kawâkib al-Sâ’ira fî A‘yân al-Mi’at al-‘Âshira, ed. Jibrâ’îl Sulaymân Jabbûr (Beirut: Dâr al-Âfâq al-Jadîda, 1979) I, pp. 89-90; Hamid Algar, Nakşibendîlik, pp. 473-474. 99

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of this institution had formerly been a khân where “the sinful and the immoral” (ahl al-fisq wa al-fujûr) were wont to gather, so when it came into Muhammad Murâd’s possession, he thought it wise to exclude from residence there beardless 102 youths, married men, and smokers of tobacco. This complex is varyingly referred to as Jâmi‘ al-Murâdiyya, al-Madrasat al-Murâdiyya al-Juwwâniyya (i.e., the madrasa lying within the boundaries of the city), and al-Zâwiyat al-Murâdiyya; the last of these three designations suggests that it functioned, inter alia, as a centre for the practice of Naqshbandî ritual and possibly, too, as a hospice for pilgrims en 103 route to the Hijaz. There is also record of another Jâmi‘ al-Murâdiyya, founded in the same year but situated outside the city at Sûq Sârûja, and therefore known alternatively as al-Madrasat al-Murâdiyyat al-Barrâniyya, “the madrasa outside the city walls,” in order to distinguish it from its counterpart near the Bab al-Barîd; the principal component of this institution was a tekke, which accounts for the third designation by which it is known – al-Zâwiyat al-Bukhâriyyat al-Naqshabandiy104 ya. This name in particular suggests that the institution may have been visited by Bukharan pilgrims on their way to or from the Hijaz. Writing in the 1920s, Muhammad Adîb al-Husnî lists among “the tekkes still existing in our day” “alZâwiyat al-Bukhâriyyat a-Naqshiyya.” It is impossible to tell whether this tekke is identical to the Ribât al-Bukhârî near the Bâb al-Jâbiyya mentioned, without further details of any kind, by ‘Abd al-Qâdir Badrân in his great work on the Islamic monuments of Damascus, or whether it served, inter alia, to host Bukharan pil105 grims preparing to make their way south. 102 al-Murâdî, Silk al-Durar, IV, p. 130. Why “married men” rather than bachelors should be bracketed between beardless youths and smokers as deserving exclusion is unclear; the implication is perhaps that only the unmarried would be able fittingly to devote themselves to their studies at the madrasa. 103 See Muhammad As‘ad Talas, Dhayl Thimâr al-Maqâsid fî Dhikr al-Masâjid (Damascus: Institut Français d’Études Orientales, 1943, p. 251; Muhammad Adîb Âl Taqî al-Dîn al-Husnî, Muntakhabât al-Tawârîkh li Dimashq (Beirut: Dâr al-Âfâq al-Jadîda, 1399/ 1979), pp. 966-967. That one and the same institution should have been known both as a tekke and as a madrasa should not necessarily be ascribed to confusion, given that particularly in the Mujaddidî branch of the tarîqat the practice of Sufism has been inseparable from the cultivation of formal religious learning. 104 Talas, Dhayl Thimâr al-Maqâsid, p. 251; Akram Husayn al-‘Ulbî, Khitat Dimashq (Damascus: Dâr al-Tabâ‘a, 1410/1989), p. 429. 105 ‘Abd al-Qâdir Badrân, Munâdamat al-Atlâl wa Musâmarat al-Khayâl (Damascus: alMaktab al-Islâmî, 1960), p. 297. Not to be confused with any of the foundations of Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî is the Jâmi‘ al-Murâdîya, also known as the Jâmi‘ al-Naqshabandî, in the Suwayqa district of Damascus. It was established by Murâd Pâshâ, Ottoman governor of the city from 1568 until his death in 1596; he appears to have been a Naqshbandî initiate. With twenty cells for resident dervishes, it was still functioning as a centre of activity for the tarîqat in 1335/1917. See al-‘Ulbî, Khitat Dimashq, pp. 357-359.

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To the north of Damascus, the Khusrawiyya complex in Aleppo, completed in 1546 by Dîvane Hüsrev Paşa, governor of the city, definitely did include a tekke that was visited by pilgrims on their way to and from the hajj, including the abovementioned ‘Abd al-Latîf Jâmî; whether it was affiliated to a particular tarîqat is un106 known. It may be noteworthy that other Kubrawîs had preceded him to Aleppo; a certain Muhammad b. Mughulbây (d. 1535), the son of an emancipated Circassian slave, is described as “shaykh of the Hamadânî community” in the city, “Hamadânî” signifying here the branch of the Kubrawiyya going back to ‘Alî Hamadânî 107 (d. 1385). Muhammad Kurd ‘Alî also lists a Naqshbandî establishment among the zâwiyas of Aleppo. Situated to the west of al-Jâmi‘ al-Ahmadî in the Dallâllîn quarter of the city, it was endowed by a certain Ahmad Siddîq who also established a Khalwatî zâwiya nearby. Like the Khusrawiyya tekke, it may have hosted Cent108 ral Asian pilgrims on their way to the hajj.

Jerusalem In its sacred associations, Jerusalem surpasses all the cities evoked so far on the overland route leading south to the Hijaz, for enclosed within its walls is the Masjid al-Aqsâ, the mosque from which the Prophet departed on his night journey to the heavens; its sobriquet of thâlith al-haramayn points to a privileged rank of near-equality with Mecca and Medina. Jerusalem seems not, however, to have been consistently visited by pilgrims making their way overland through Syria and Palestine to the Hijaz; a seventeenth century hajj itinerary, for example, traces a 109 southward route from Damascus to Medina that entirely bypasses the city. This apparent neglect of Jerusalem may help to explain the relatively late establishment of a Naqshbandî zâwiya in the city, one that came to include among its functions hospitality for Central Asian travellers who did choose to visit Jerusalem on their way to the Hijaz.

106 Al-Ghazzî, al-Kawâkib al-Sâ’ira fî Afiyân al-Mi’at al-‘Âshira, II, pp. 181-183. On the Khusrawiyya, see Heghnar Zeitlian Watenpaugh, The Image of an Ottoman City: Imperial Architecture and Urban Experience in Aleppo in the 16th and 17th Centuries (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2004), pp. 60-77. The case of Jâmî should suffice to dispel Watenpaugh’s doubts (expressed on p. 76, n.63) that the complex included a tekke. 107 Al-Ghazzî, al-Kawâkib al-Sâ’ira fî A‘yân al-Mi’at al-‘Âshira, II, p. 59. 108 Muhammad Kurd ‘Alî, Khitat al-Shâm, VI, p. 147. 109 None of the principal waystations between Damascus and the northern Hijaz – Dar‘a, Mafraq, Zarqâ’, Qatrana, and Ma‘ân – mentioned in this work had any substantial claim to sanctity; the virtue of the route must have lain in its relative directness. See M. Bianchi, “Itinéraire de Constantinople à la Mecque, extrait de l’ouvrage turc intitulé: Kitab Menassik al-Hadj (Livre des prières et des cérémonies relatives au pèlerinage) de elHadj Mehemmed Edib ben Mehemmed, Derviche,” Recueil des Voyages et des Mémoires publiés par la Société de Géographie de Paris, II (1825), pp. 122-128.

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The founder of what came to be known as al-Zâwiyat al-Naqshabandîya, alZâwiyat al-Uzbakîya or al-Zâwiyat al-Bukhârîya, was one Osmân Bey b. Abdülmuîn, also known as Sûfî Osmân Bey, formerly kapıcıbaşı to Sadrıazam Ibrahim Paşa. He was the follower of a certain Şeyh Muhammed, a Naqshbandî elder from Kastamonu, of whose initiatic descent nothing appears to be known. It was in 1615 that Osmân Bey came to Jerusalem, married the daughter of its governor, and established a mosque adjoined by four cells, each to be occupied by an indigent and celibate Naqshbandî; the northern boundary of the complex was at the western end of the Via Dolorosa, known alternatively in much more recent times as Tarîq alMujâhidîn. The terms of the endowment governing the foundation were amended in 1623 to stipulate that if four such individuals were not available, four Ottoman Turks (arwâm) of pious disposition should take their place; the stipulation of piety meant, among other things, that they should not be beardless, smoke tobacco, drink 110 alcohol, or have recourse to narcotics. In what appears to be a retrospective bestowal on the zâwiya of the Central Asian connections it later acquired, Sûfî Osmân Bey has been misidentified by several recent authors as a Bukharan, misled, it would seem, by contemporary custodi111 ans of the zâwiya. It is a priori unlikely that a Bukharan immigrant should have served as kapıcıbaşı to the Sadrıazam, and nothing in the sparse biographical information to be gleaned from the vakıf documents suggests that he was anything 112 other than “one of the rich élite who came from Istanbul to reside in Jerusalem.” An association with Central Asia was, however, not long in coming: Muhammad Sâlih al-Uzbakî, who died in 1731, is recorded to have expanded the zâwiya, and it is presumably from his time on that the establishment numbers “al-Zâwiyyat alUzbakiyya” among its designations. He was succeeded by his son, Hasan. A complete roster of the successive shaykhs presiding over the tekke is apparently unavailable, but the Central Asian connection was fixed at the latest by the early nineteenth century; from then on, the direction of the tekke was vested hereditarily in a family of Bukharans, the first of them being perhaps Muhammad al-Bukhârî (d. circa 1810). A detailed register was kept of visiting Naqshbandîs from various 110 Yusuf Natsheh, “al-Zāwiya al-Naqshabandīya,” in Sylvia Auld and Robert Hillenbrand, eds., Ottoman Jerusalem: The Living City, 1517-1917 (London: Altajir World of Islam Trust, 2000), pp. 904-906. Referring to the same vakfiyye Frederick de Jong writes that on the contrary Naqshbandîs from Transoxiana had a prior claim to residence in the zâwiya (“The Sufi Orders in Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Palestine,” Studia Islamica LVIII (1983), p. 167). These divergent readings of the vakfiyye can hardly be reconciled but Natsheh’s account appears preferable, given the documented detail he provides. 111 See ‘Ârif al-‘Ârif, al-Mufassal fî Târîkh al-Quds (Jerusalem: Matba‘at al-Quds, 1999), p. 499, and Frederick de Jong, “The Sufi Orders in Nineteenth- and Twentieth Century Palestine,” p. 167. 112 Yusuf Natsheh, “al-Zāwiya al-Naqshabandīya,” p. 905.

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parts of Central Asia – primarily the region of Bukhara and the Ferghana valley – 113 as well as many Indian beneficiaries of the zâwiya’s hospitality.

Cairo and the Haramayn Rather than pursuing the arduous overland route from Istanbul that led first across Anatolia and then down through Syria and Palestine, some Central Asian pilgrims apparently preferred to take ship for Egypt, a choice that permitted them a sojourn in Cairo before embarking at Suez for the voyage to Jeddah. This possibility is suggested by the existence in Cairo of two Naqshbandî establishments the names of which bespeak a defining connection with Central Asia. Both appear to have originated in the eighteenth century. One was the Takiyat al-Bukhârliyya, located in the Hattâba quarter of the city; the name of its founder, a certain Nizâm al-Dîn, is sometimes incorporated in its designation. The presiding shaykh was at all times a Bukharan, and use of its facilities was likewise restricted to Bukharans. Little is known of its history, except that in 1298/1881 its administration was in the hands of someone known simply as Mîrzâ. The other Naqshbandî hospice in Cairo catering to Central Asians was known after its founder as the Takiyat Muhammad Taqî alDîn al-Bistâmî (or al-‘Ajamî, both names, it so happens, pointing to an Iranian rather than a Central Asian origin), but more commonly and informatively known as Takiyat al-Uzbak. Located in the Darb al-Labbân area, it was administered for close to a century by Bukharans, who also formed the majority of its residents, but in 1871, much to the displeasure of the Bukharans, Khoqandîs living at the takiya 114 successfully sought to have one of their own appointed as shaykh. Another Naqshbandî hospice in Cairo bore the name of Hasan al-Rûmî, an Ottoman Turk, but it is known to have been headed in 1711 by a certain Shams al-Dîn Muhammad al-Uzbakî; this may indicate a transfer from Ottoman to Bukharan stewardship 115 analagous to that recorded for the Jerusalem zâwiya at roughly the same time. Finally, mention is encountered in the late nineteenth century of a Takiyat al-

113 For a detailed account of the zâwiya and its history, see Thierry Zarcone, Sufi Pilgrims from Central Asia and India at Jerusalem (Kyoto: Kyoto University-ASAFAS, 2009). 114 Writing in the late nineteenth century, ‘Alî Mubârak Pâshâ remarks of the Takiyat Muhammad Taqî al-Dîn al-Bistâmî that it housed “a number of darâwîsh al-a‘âjim;” by a‘âjim, he may have meant either “Persian/Iranian” or simply “non-Arab,” the original sense of the word, thereby intending Central Asians; certainly the latter would have been more appropriate (al-Khitat at-Tawfîqiyya al-Jadîda li-Misr al-Qâhirah wa Mudunihâ al-Qadîma wa al-Shahîra, II, [Cairo: Matba‘at al-Ma‘ârif, 1389/1969], p. 286, and VI [Cairo: Matba‘at al-Ma‘ârif, 1987], p. 156). See also F. de Jong, Ṭuruq and ṭuruqLinked Institutions in Nineteenth Century Egypt (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1978), pp. 80-81. The shaykh of this takiya in 1298/1881 was one ‘Uthmân Efendi Sulaymân. 115 F. de Jong, Ṭuruq and ṭuruq-Linked Institutions in Nineteenth Century Egypt, p. 28.

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Bukhârî, located near the Bâb al-Wazîr, and of a Takiyat al-Hunûd, which despite 116 its designation was inhabited by dervishes from Bukhara. Naqshbandî tekkes/zâwiyas existed, then, in a whole series of cities along the routes to the Hijaz. It might be expected that similar institutions should have arisen in either Mecca or Medina. In this respect, however, the record, however, is remarkably thin; mention is to be found of only two (possibly three) such establishments during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. One was the tekke established in Mecca by Kânûnî Süleyman for ‘Abd al-Rahmân Ghubârî (d. 1566), who had a Naqshbandî affiliation from Shaykh ‘Abd al-Latîf, postnişin at the Emir Buhari tekke in Istanbul. ‘Abd al-Latîf himself had gone on the hajj in 1531, but instead of staying on as mujâwir to disseminate the tarîqat among pilgrims, he returned to Istanbul. There, thanks to his sister’s marriage to Abdurrahman Efendi Sadru’l-‘Ulema, he was able to spend some fifteen years of influence-peddling at the Ottoman court, not always, it would seem, for justifiable purpose. Perhaps as the result of a prise de conscience, he returned to Mecca in 1562 and prayed that he might die there after completing the same number of years on earth as the Prophet – sixty-three. His wish was granted, for he died the following year, one week be117 fore the end of the hajj season. As for Ghubârî, he first went on the hajj in 1537 and stayed on as mujâwir in Mecca for a full nine years. On his return, he gained the favour of Kânûnî Süleyman, only to lose it and suffer a year’s imprisonment when he was perceived to have sided with Prince Bayezid in the struggle over succession to the Ottoman throne. Rehabilitated in 1562, he was assigned to Mecca as qâdî and appointed postnişin at the Naqshbandî tekke Kânûnî Süleyman had built 118 119 for him. How long this institution survived him is unknown. Another Naqshbandi tekke owing its origin to royal initiative was established in Mecca by Murad IV (r. 1623-1640); its operation was clouded by accusations of mismanagement, and 120 it may not have survived for long. Describing Mecca as he saw it when performing the hajj in 1671, Evliyâ Çelebi makes only cursory mention of a Naqshbandî 116 F. de Jong, Ṭuruq and ṭuruq-Linked Institutions in Nineteenth Century Egypt, p. 120; ‘Alî Mubârak Pâshâ, al-Khitat at-Tawfîqiyya al-Jadîda, II, p. 284. 117 Âşık Celebî ‘s verdict on ‘Abd al-Latîf was harsh: “While a man of the Path, he became a forwarder of petitions” (tarikatçı iken matlabcı olmuştu). Cited by ‘Atâî, Hadâ’ikü’lHakâ’ik fî Tekmileti’l-Şakâ’ik, pp. 84-85. 118 Ali Alparslan, “Gubârî, Abdurrahman,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, XIV, pp. 167-169. A gifted poet, Ghubârî wrote a still unpublished Ka‘benâme in which he describes the public works undertaken at the Haramayn at the behest of Kânûnî Sultan Süleyman. 119 His grave in the Abtah district of Mecca, near the Jannat al-Mu‘allâ cemetery, did, however, qualify for mention among the tombs of scholars noted by Evliyâ Çelebi in 1671, as did that of an unidentified Şeyh ‘Alâeddin Nakşibendî; see Evliyâ Çelebi Seyahatnamesi, eds. Robert Dankoff, Seyit Ali Kahraman, and Yücel Dağlı (Istanbul: Yapı ve Kredi Yayınları, 1996), IX, pp. 405-406. 120 Faroqhi, Pilgrims and Sultans, p. 107.

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tekke (“Nakşibend Bahâeddin Tekkesi”) located somewhere in the city; he tells us 121 nothing about its origins or current circumstances. It may have been have been the tekke founded for Ghubârî; that established by Murad IV; or an entirely separate institution, not necessarily due to Ottoman initiative.

The Indian Route Akbar’s Pilgrimage Caravans and the Ahrârîs Not all hajj routes from Central Asia led westwards. Several major arteries are known to have linked Central Asia with India between the sixteenth and eighteenth centuries. Bukharan traders would travel via Chahâr-Jûy, Merv, Sarakhs, and Mashhad to Qandahar, proceeding thence either by way of Kabul and Peshawar to Lahore, or by way of Dadur and Shikarpur to Multan; from both Lahore and Multan, well-established routes led on to Delhi. Alternatively, Kabul could be reached 122 via Balkh, again for onward travel to Lahore. Either way, Kabul was a favored waystation, replete with places for pious visitation, some associated with the 123 Naqshbandiyya. Multan, too, appears to have been particularly important for the trade with Central Asia; it housed a resident Bukharan community, just as Multani 124 traders in Samarkand were numerous enough to have their own quarter. Many of the itineraries the merchants used were also travelled by Sufis, including Naqshbandîs engaged in the diffusion of their order, and Central Asian pilgrims in general, whether Sufi or not; this is clearly attested by the frequency of toponyms includ125 ing elements such as mazâr, langar and ribât. Once arrived in India, pilgrims would make their way down through Gujarat to Surat, honorifically known as Bâb-i Makka (“the gateway to Mecca”) or Bandar-i Mubârak (“the blessed seaport”), there to embark on ships bound for the Hijaz, together with their Indian 126 brethren. Among Central Asian Naqshbandîs known to have taken this route 121 Evliyâ Çelebi reports that no fewer than seventy-eight tekkes were functioning in Mecca, all of them administered by “great shaykhs” (meşayih-i kibâr) and full to overflowing with travellers and mujâwirîn. The only one of the seventy-eight concerning which he provides any detail is a Mevlevî tekke, built, remarkably enough, by an Indian, Darvîsh Muhammad Lâhûrî, although frequented by Ottoman officials (Evliyâ Çelebi Seyahatnamesi, IX, pp. 395-396). 122 Audrey Burton, The Bukharans, pp. 402-404. 123 On the shrines of Kabul, see Muhammad Ibrâhîm Khalîl, Mazârât-i Shahr-i Kâbul (Kabul: Anjuman-i Târîkh-i Afghânistân, 1960). 124 Audrey Burton, The Bukharans, p. 404; Thierry Zarcone, “Une route de sainteté islamique entre l’Asie centrale et l’Inde: la voie Ush-Kashghar-Srinagar,” Cahiers d’Asie Centrale I-II (1996), p. 233. 125 Zarcone, “Une route de sainteté islamique,” pp. 236-247. 126 On the role of Surat, see the numerous references in Michael N. Pearson, Pilgrimage to Mecca: The Indian Experience 1500-1800 (Princeton: Markus Wiener, 1996), especially pp. 54-55, 108, and 142-146.

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was Khwâja Jamâl al-Dîn Pardapûsh Khwârazmî (d. 1607), who even chose to settle 127 in Surat on his return from the hajj. The viability of this seaborne route came under serious threat in the sixteenth century with the rise of Portuguese state-piracy in the Indian Ocean. The aim was at one and the same time to deny the right of maritime passage to non-Christians (which for the most part meant Muslims), thereby gaining a monopoly on the spice trade; and to conduct a crusade against Muslims wherever encountered, on the high seas or on land. Given the nexus between trade and hajj, the two purposes were sometimes indistiguishable. In 1502, none other than Vasco da Gama set fire to a ship conveying pilgrims to the Hijaz; he watched the ship burn with all on board, exception being made only of twenty or so children snatched for immediate 128 baptism while their parents were perishing nearby. For some Portuguese minds, the ultimate aim was nothing less than the conquest and destruction of Mecca, an 129 ambition fully endorsed by the papacy. Alfonso d’Albuquerque, viceroy of the Portuguese territories in India, put before his sovereign in October 1514 the proposal that first Massawa should be thoroughly secured and then five hundred Portuguese horsemen should sail across the Red Sea, land near Jeddah, and proceed 130 thence by a one day’s march to Mecca in order to “reduce the town to ashes.” The Ottomans were fully aware of the Portuguese pestilence, and defence of the Haramayn from alien assault was without doubt the primary motive for bring131 ing the Hijaz under their suzerainty in 1517. By no means, however, did this put paid to the danger. Portuguese ships had once appeared in the waters off Jeddah in 1505, and in 1520 they were sighted there anew. A report dated 1525 drawn up by Selmân Reis, an admiral of the Red Sea fleet who had earlier served under the Mamluks, gave a precise account of the distribution of Portuguese naval forces and 132 warned of the continuing danger they presented to the Hijaz and the Haramayn. In the years that followed, several naval expeditions were launched against the Portuguese strongholds of Diu and Daman on the coast of Gujarat and, farther to 127 Arthur F. Buehler, “The Naqshbandiyya in Timurid India: The Central Asian Legacy,” Journal of Islamic Studies VII:2 (1996), p. 215. 128 M.N. Pearson, The New Cambridge History of India, I:1, The Portuguese in India (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), p. 71. 129 See Herbert Melzig, Büyük Türk Hindistan Kapılarında (Istanbul: Selâmi Sertoğlu Kitabevi, 1943), p. 33. 130 F. C. Danvers, The Portuguese in India (London: Frank Cass, 1966), I, pp. 305-306. 131 The Ottomans were, in fact, engaged with the crusading Portuguese on two maritime fronts: the Mediterranean as well as the Indian Ocean. See Hulûsi Yavuz, “XVI. Asır İslam Dünyasında Osmanlı-Portekiz Mücadelesinin Sebebleri,” Marmara Üniversitesi İlâhiyat Fakültesi Dergisi III (1985), pp. 49-77, and Ahmet Asrar, Kanunî Sultan Süleyman Devrinde Osmanlı Devletinin Dinî Siyaseti ve İslam Âlemi, pp. 296-338. 132 Salih Özbaran, “A Turkish Report on the Red Sea and the Portuguese in the Indian Ocean (1525),” Arabian Studies IV (1978), pp. 81-88.

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the south, Goa. None of them proved successful, and Portuguese harassment of Muslim shipping in the Indian Ocean continued for decades, despite an appeal and 133 a warning sent in 1565 by Kânûnî Süleyman to Sebastian of Portugal. In 1568, consideration was even given to digging a canal across the Suez peninsula to facilitate the passage of Ottoman vessels from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea, but unlike the project for a canal linking the Volga and the Don conceived almost thirty 134 years later, work on it never even began. The only guarantee for the safety of Muslim shipping lay in obtaining from the Portuguese the pass known as cartaz; even this document might be declared invalid if a vessel had the misfortune to be 135 intercepted on the high seas by a particularly rapacious Portuguese commander. Nonetheless, the primary Ottoman goal of excluding the Portuguese from the Red Sea and thus safeguarding the Haramayn was attained in 1548, when the Ottomans brought Aden under their definitive control. Strategically located as an entrepôt for the commerce of the Indian Ocean, the port of Aden came also to serve for several centuries as an occasional point of disembarkation or embarkation for pilgrims en route to or from the Haramayn. Weakened by the same internecine disputes that had undermined Ottoman attempts to come to its aid, the Gujarat sultanate was overthrown in 1573 by the Emperor Akbar, and its territory became a Mughal province. The Mughals thereby inherited the ongoing confrontation with the Portuguese in the Indian Ocean. They did not, however, consistently discern in the Portuguese presence along their coasts a source of danger or a slight to their imperial dignity, nor were their relations with the Ottomans as brotherly as the Portuguese threat to Muslim welfare in general 136 and hajj traffic in particular might have dictated. In an attempt to live up to the 133 Yavuz, “XVI. Asır İslam Dünyasında Osmanlı-Portekiz Mücadelesinin Sebebleri,” p. 73. 134 This was not, of course, the last project for a Suez Canal, but neither was it the first. ‘Amr b. al-‘Âs, governor of Egypt in the time of ‘Umar, had sought the permission of the caliph to extend an existing canal northwards to the Mediterranean, roughly along the route chosen many centuries later by de Lesseps; permission was refused, out of fear that the Byzantine navy, still a formidable force, might use the canal to enter the Red Sea and disrupt the hajj. Hârûn al-Rashîd entertained a similar project, but abandoned it because of precisely the same fears that ‘Umar had voiced. See George F. Hourani, Arab Seafaring, 2nd ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), pp. 60, 82. It is worth noting that the abandonment of the first two canal projects and the contemplation of the third were both motivated by a concern for the integrity of the Haramayn. For details of the Ottoman project, see İsmail Hakkı Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Tarihi (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi, 1983), 3:1, pp. 32-33, and Yavuz, “XVI. Asır İslam Dünyasında Osmanlı-Portekiz Mücadelesinin Sebebleri,” pp. 75-76. 135 Pearson, The Portuguese in India, pp. 33-34. 136 Mughal disdain for the Ottomans may have been motivated in part by the memory, distant by a century and a half, of Tîmûr’s defeat and capture of Bayezid I at the Battle of Ankara. So thoroughly oblivious was Akbar to the requirements of Islamic solidarity that in 1588, he planned a joint Mughal-Portuguese naval expedition against ports in Yemen held by the Ottomans. See Naimur Rahman Farooqi, “Six Ottoman Documents

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pretensions implicit in his name, Akbar even aspired on occasion to a universal sovereignty that would have nullified the Ottoman caliphate. Articulating these ambitions of his master, the chronicler Abû al-Fazl proclaimed that “the wise and judicious who understand the spirit of the age have said that if this civilised world, which has been split up owing to the inattention of great souls, were under one able and just ruler of extensive capacity, the dust of dissension would assuredly be laid and mortals find repose. Hence it is that the adorner of fortune’s parterre in our 137 age [Akbar] is continually engaged in the conquest of other countries.” The Hijaz was among the territories that Akbar hoped to bring under his rule, and if that goal was unattainable, then the least he could do was to organize his own hajj caravan 138 – traditionally a perquisite of the caliph. A certain Mullâ ‘Abd Allâh Sultânpûrî Makhdûm al-Mulk, who enjoyed some influence at the court of Humâyûn, Akbar’s predecessor on the Mughal throne, had argued that the hajj ought not, under the conditions then prevailing, to be performed at all. For, he reasoned, those aspiring to make the pilgrimage would have to travel either by sea, departing from Gujarat, in which case they would undergo the humiliation of obtaining passes from the Portuguese, with pictures of Mary and Jesus stamped on them (an accurate observation); or overland through Iran, in which case they would be exposed at every turn to noxious denunciation of person139 ages revered by all Sunnis (a less reasonable fear). Arguments such as these were disregarded, and in 1575 Akbar dispatched a hajj caravan from Fatehpur Sikri, partly at the behest of his paternal aunt, Gulbadan Begum, and other ladies of the 140 royal household. Once again, Ahrâr’s descendants enter the scene. The Mughals had, after all, important ancestral ties to the Ahrârî Naqshbandîs through the Timurids from whom they had sprung. In his memoirs, Babur, first of their line, had spoken of a complementarity between the Timurids and the Ahrârîs, the one enjoying political kingship, and the other, spiritual monarchy, and he had shared with Khwâja Kâ,

137 138 139

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on Mughal-Ottoman Relations During the Reign of Akbar,” Journal of Islamic Studies (Oxford) VII:1 (1996), pp. 41-42, 47-48. For a useful overview of the triangular dealings between the Mughals, the Ottomans, and the Portuguese, see the same author’s “Moguls, Ottomans, and Pilgrims: Protecting the Routes to Mecca in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” The International History Review X:2 (May, 1988), pp. 198-220. Abû al-Fazl, Akbar-Nama, trans. H. Beveridge, reprint (Delhi: Ess Ess Publications, 1977), III, p. 122. Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, pp. 190-191. S.A.A. Rizvi, Religious and Intellectual History of the Muslims in Akbar’s Reign (New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, 1975), p. 118. The date of Makhdûm al-Mulk’s fatwâ is uncertain; it may have been issued before the beginning of Akbar’s reign, in which case it cannot be regarded as a protest against his institution of an annual Mughal caravan. See Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, p. 165. For a complete roster of the eleven ladies in question, see Abû al-Fazl, Akbar-Nâma, III, p. 205.

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the eldest son of Ahrâr, a period of residence in Kabul when the two of them had 141 been hounded out of Transoxiana by the Uzbeks. With waqf properties dating from the time of Ahrâr, Kabul served in fact as a “staging post” for both Babur and 142 the Ahrârî Naqshbandîs on their southward progression to India. Perhaps the earliest Ahrârî to come to India was Shihâb al-Dîn Mahmûd, generally known as Khâwand Mahmûd, the offspring of Ahrâr’s eldest son, Khwâja Kâ. He travelled widely, spending time in Herat with Jâmî and in Shiraz with Jalâl al-Dîn Dawânî (d. 1502) as well as visiting Kashgar; and it was by way of India that he twice went on the hajj. He died, however, in his birthplace of Samarkand, roughly in the year 1543. Among his devotees were Mîrzâ Haydar Dughlat, author of the Târîkh-i 143 Rashîdî, and the Mughal emperor Humâyûn. ‘Abd al-Shahîd, a brother of Khâwand Mahmûd, arrived in India in 1559 but returned to Samarkand in 1574, dy144 ing there the same year. Two of Khâwand Mahmûd’s sons settled in India: Qâsim, who died there but had his body transported back to Samarkand for burial; and Mu‘în al-Dîn Ahmad, who set out on the hajj in 1620 but died en route in Gu145 jarat before he could embark for the Hijaz. Sultân Khwâja (or Khwâja Sultân) ‘Abd al-‘Azîm Naqshbandî (d. 1583), who headed Akbar’s hajj caravan of 1576, had a somewhat complex Ahrârî lineage. His mother was the daughter of Khwâja Yahyâ, second son of Ahrâr, and married to a certain Khâwand Dûst, who was also a descendant of Ahrâr; but in tarîqat matters 146 Sultân Khwâja was the murîd of the above-mentioned Khwâja ‘Abd al-Shahîd. Sultân Khwâja was allotted six lakhs of rupees (or, it is said, two crore of gold) and 12,000 robes to distribute among the deserving at the Haramayn, as well as funds for constructing a khânaqâh – presumably for Naqshbandîs of the Ahrârî line – in 147 Mecca. A number of Central Asians were separately provided with funds en141 Bâbur, Bábar-Nâma, facsimile edition prepared by A.S. Beveridge (London: Luzac, 1971), f. 60a. 142 The phrase is that of Stephen Dale, in his article with Alam Payind, “The Ahrāri Waqf in Kābul in the Year 1546 and the Mughūl Naqshbandiyyah,” Journal of the American Oriental Society CXIX: 2 (April-June, 1999), p. 219. 143 ‘Ârif Nawshâhî, Ahwâl va Sukhanân-i Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, p. 69. 144 ‘Ârif Nawshâhî, Ahwâl va Sukhanân-i Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, p. 73. 145 ‘Ârif Nawshâhî, Ahwâl va Sukhanân-i Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, p. 73. 146 ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Abû al-Fath al-Husaynî, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, f. 94b. According to Mukhlisabonu Kadyrova, Zhitiia Khodzha Akhrara, p. 124, Sultan Khwâja ‘Abd al-‘Azîm was the son not of Khâwand Dûst, but of his brother, Mîr Khâwand; the mother of both was in any event Begimi Kalân, the eldest daughter of Ahrâr. 147 When visiting Mecca almost a hundred years later, Evliyâ Çelebi noted the existence of a Qâdirî tekke established by Akbar, not a Naqshbandî one; see Evliyâ Çelebi Seyahatnamesi, IX, p. 396. It may be that on this occasion as on others in his travels, Evliyâ Çelebi misidentified the tarîqat affiliation of a tekke; that Akbar provided for the establishment of a Qâdirî as well as a Naqshbandî tekke in Mecca; or that the operation of the tekke had passed from Naqshbandî into Qâdirî hands.

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abling them to join the Mughal caravan. The Portuguese proved initially reluctant to grant the cartaz needed for the party to embark at Surat, and a full year was to elapse after they left Fatehpur Sikri before the intervention of a Hindu merchant at 148 Calicut resolved the matter in their favour. As the pilgrims set out, Akbar donned the ihrâm as gesture of solidarity with them and even deigned to walk a few yards 149 in the footsteps of the Khwâja. After this imperial sendoff, Sultân Khwâja and those in his care embarked at Surat and arrived safely in Mecca in time for the hajj. Akbar was plainly satisfied with his performance, for not long after his return he 150 appointed him sadr al-sudûr. The following year, Akbar selected Mîr Abû Turâb Walî (d. 1595) as his mîr hajj; the grandson of an immigrant from Shiraz, and probably a Shi‘i, he had earlier been in the service of the rulers of Gujarat. Once again, the Moghul hajj caravan bore with it lavish gifts: 500,000 rupees for the denizens of the Haramayn and 100,000 for the Sharîf. By way of recompense, Mîr Abû Turâb Walî brought back with him to India what purported to be a footprint of the Prophet; it was installed with due ceremony at a special structure in Agra with Mîr Abû Turâb Walî as its 151 custodian. In 1578, Akbar turned once more to an Ahrârî Naqshbandî to head his hajj delegation. This was Khwâja Muhammad Yahyâ, a third-generation descend152 ant of Ahrâr. He had enjoyed the respect of the Uzbek rulers of Transoxiana to the extent of being appointed by them Shaykh al-Islâm of their realm, but, like others of his lineage, loyalty to the descendants of Tîmûr impelled him to migrate to India. Akbar entrusted Khwâja Muhammad Yahyâ with a third instalment of Mughal largesse – 400,000 rupees for distribution as sadaqa in the Haramayn – and, at least as important, with the mission of bringing home the ladies of the royal household who had been tarrying there since their first pilgrimage. Akbar’s sustained interest in sponsoring hajj caravans and his dispatch of vast quantities of sadaqa to the Haramayn were profoundly unwelcome to the Ottomans. In September 1578, Murad III was informed that many of the Indians who had performed the hajj during the preceding two years were still in Mecca, includ148 The problems caused by the Portuguese are completely ignored by Abû al-Fazl, who claims that at the time in question, “the masters of the European islands [perhaps “peninsulas” or “enclaves” are what is meant by jazâ’ir],” who usually sought to block hajj traffic, “had become submissive and obedient” (Akbar-Nâma, III, p. 205). 149 As he did so, supposedly “a cry arose from those present, and their voices were raised in benediction and praise.” For this touching detail, see Nizam-ud Din Ahmad, Tabakat-i Akbari (sic), translated by H.M. Elliot (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publications, n.d.), p. 233. 150 Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, pp. 18-19. 114; S.A.A. Rizvi, Religious and Intellectual History of the Muslims in Akbar’s Reign, pp. 126, 173, 429. 151 Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, p. 115; S. Moinul Haq, “Abū Torāb Walı,” Encyclopaedia Iranica, I, p. 392. 152 His father was Khwâja Abû al-Fayz, and his grandfather, Khwâja Kâ. See ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Abû al-Fath al-Husaynî, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh Ahrâr, ff. 57a, 76b.

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ing the ladies of Akbar’s household conducted there by ‘Abd al-‘Azîm Naqshbandî. Their prolonged residence was causing a strain on the scant local resources, a situation by no means eased by the distribution of sadaqa, for its only result was to attract to Mecca the destitute of Syria and Anatolia. The sultan commanded therefore that the Indians in question, royal ladies included, be deported, and that the distribution of Mughal sadaqa in the Meccan haram be halted. A year and a half later, however, these measures were still short of full implementation: the ladies were still there, the money was still being distributed, and – a new element – the unwanted Indians were engaged in unspecified nâmeşrû‘ (religiously illegitimate) 153 activities. What was at issue, it has been speculated, may have beeen an indulgence in samâ‘ on the part of Khwâja Muhammad Yahyâ and the fellow Naqsh154 bandîs who had accompanied him to Mecca. There is little if anything to support this argument, and it is far more likely that the phrase, “nâmeşrû‘ activities”, was intended as a chaste euphemism for improper conduct by the royal ladies. Sultan Murad therefore commanded anew that the ladies and their entourage, together with other longtime Indian residents, be removed once the pilgrimage season was 155 over, and that the distribution of the Mughal sadaqa be blocked. The ladies had no choice but to leave. Khwâja Yahyâ conveyed them overland to Aden, where the Ottoman governor is said to have treated them with gross discourtesy. Then they 156 took ship for India, reaching Fatehpur Sikri in April 1582. Ottoman eagerness to rid Mecca of the Indians may have derived additionally from two factors not mentioned in the correspondence between Sultan Murad and his officers in the Hijaz. One was the determination of the Ottomans as supreme guardians of the Haramayn to prevent the establishment in Mecca of a permanent and official presence by any other Muslim power; the prolonged residence of the 153 Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, p. 19; Naimur Rahman Farooqi, “Six Ottoman Documents on Mughal-Ottoman Relations During the Reign of Akbar,” pp. 37-41. 154 Suraiya Faroqhi, Herrscher über Mekka: Die Geschichte der Pilgerfahrt, p. 175. The simple and categorical distinction that Faroqhi makes between Ottoman Naqshbandîs – punctilious in observance of the sharî‘a – and their Indian counterparts – somewhat lax in this respect – is invalid. In any event, the practice of samâ’ in Istanbul itself was never subject to official prohibition, although several scholars disapproved of it. Also questionable is Faroqhi’s assertion that Naqshbandîs typically rallied to Akbar’s apostatic project, the Dîn-i Ilâhî. Sultân Khwâja did indeed enrol in the cult some time after his return from the Haramayn, supposedly out of pique at the abusive treatment he had endured in Mecca (S.A.A. Rizvi, Religious and Intellectual History of the Muslims in Akbar’s Reign, p. 429; M.N. Pearson, Pious Passengers: The Hajj in Earlier Times [New Delhi: Sterling Publishers, 1994], p. 120). However, his case stands alone and is unlikely to have been a factor in determining Ottoman policy a decade after his return from the hajj. 155 Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, pp. 19, 119. 156 Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, pp. 119-120.

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Mughal ladies and their retinue might have been seen as tending in that unwanted 157 direction. The other was the increasing temerity with which, at precisely this time, Akbar was flaunting the eccentric imperial cult known as the Dîn-i Ilâhî, a development that did not go unnoticed in the Haramayn; it could plausibly be argued the distribution of funds from a ruler who was effectively an apostate was im158 permissible, especially in the most sacred spot on earth. Unlike ‘Abd al-‘Azîm, Khwâja Muhammad Yahyâ did not remain in government service after returning from the hajj, although one of his sons, Khwâja Muhammad Sâdiq, did frequent the Mughal court. He chose instead to lead the life of a dervish recluse and to devote himself to calligraphy and medicine, making of 159 these two pursuits, it is said, a veil for his spiritual attainments. He died in 1580. In that same year, Akbar dispatched his final hajj caravan, led by Hakîm al-Mulk Gîlânî, a physician as his name suggests. Mughal caravans to Mecca resumed after Akbar’s death, but none were led by Naqshbandîs.

Sirhind and the Westward Diffusion of the Mujaddidiyya The reign of Akbar also witnessed the emergence of the Mujaddidî branch of the Naqshbandiyya. The designation “Mujaddidî” refers to the claim of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî that he was the divinely appointed “renewer” (mujaddid) of faith and practice for the second millennium of the Islamic era, a function he thought to include various exalted stations; more extravagantly still, he designated himself qayyûm, a 160 unique being on whom depends the continued existence of all things. The swift rise and broad diffusion of the Mujaddidiyya ensured that from the early seventeenth century onwards, it was from India rather than Central Asia that the main 157 An episode that took place almost a hundred years later also serves to illustrate Ottoman sensitivity on this point. In 1762, Ahmad Shah Durrânî of Qandahar sent three envoys to Baghdad with a letter for Sultan Mustafa III in which he requested land be assigned him in Medina to construct a mosque that would function as his mission to the Hijaz. The petition was refused. The letter is preserved in Başvekalet Arşivi, Nâme-i Hümayun Defteri, 8, pp. 486 ff. (Reference owed to Hakeem Naim). Some thirty years earlier, Nâdir Shâh had sought permission from the Ottomans to organise his own hajj caravan by way of Damascus, but this too they rejected, as an unacceptable encroachment on their sovereignty (Uzunçarşılı, Osmanlı Tarihi, IV:1, pp. 231-233). 158 Naimur Rahman Farooqi, Mughal-Ottoman Relations, p. 20; Munis D. Faruqui, “The Forgotten Prince: Mirza Hakim and the Formation of the Mughal Empire in India,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient XLVIII:4 (2005), pp. 517-518. 159 ‘Abd al-Hayy b. Abû al-Fath al-Husaynî, Nasabnâma-yi Khwâja ‘Ubaydullâh, f. 77a. 160 On the claim to the status of millennial renewer, see Imâm-i Rabbânî (=Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî), Maktûbât, I, pp. 390, 454; II, pp. 21, 518-519, and on his self-identification as qayyûm, Maktûbât, II, pp. 124-128, 206-208, 209; III, pp. 495-497. Before Sirhindî dignified himself with the term, qayyûm had been understood exclusively as a divine name, given its occurrence in Quran, 2:255, 3:2, and 20:111, in conjunction and apposition with hayy, the two attributes taken together meaning “the Living, the Self-Subsisting.”

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impetus for the propagation of the order now came. Sirhindî had fulsomely acknowledged the supremacy of Transoxiana as a bastion of sound learning and prac161 tice and the debt owed its scholars and Sufis by the Muslims of India. However, the transmission of influence between the two regions began to reverse direction already in his lifetime, a process that was much accelerated within a generation after his death, with the result that the Mujaddidiyya became solidly rooted in 162 Transoxiana. This development might be expected to have occasioned a greater intensity of Central Asian hajj traffic via North West India, perhaps to the detriment of the Istanbul route, or at least an adjustment of existing routes to include Sirhind as a blessed waystation, for it was there that the Mujaddid was buried. Sirhind counted, moreover, as the principal city on the highway between Lahore and Delhi. It is not at all clear, however, that Sirhind became a regular focus of ziyârat for Central Asian Mujaddidîs or that the commonalty of pilgrims varied their route to include it. In 1624, precisely the year of Sirhindî’s death, Mahmûd b. Amîr Walî Balkhî set out on a journey to India, famously recorded in his Bahr al-Asrâr. His route took him through Sirhind on his way from Lahore to Delhi, but of the town he remarks only that it used to be known as Sihrind and that he passed several pleasant and 163 restful hours in a vast and splendid garden on its oustkirts. Since Balkhî mentions a number of shrines that he visited elsewhere, such as that of Bâbâ Hasan Abdâl near Peshawar, it can be presumed that the tomb of Sirhindî was not yet available as a site for ziyârat, so soon after his death. In later years, the two sons that survived him, Muhammad Sa‘îd Khâzin al-Rahma (d. 1660), and his principal initiatic successor, Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm “al-‘Urwat al-Wuthqâ” (d. 1668), came to be buried nearby, as were in turn numerous of their descendants, to at least the 164 third generation. The resulting complex came to be known as the Rawza-yi Sharîf (“The Noble Garden”), presumably with reference to Sirhindî’s claim that the area between his tomb and a mosque erected nearby was “one of the gardens of 161 Imâm-i Rabbânî (=Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî), Maktûbât, III, pp. 500-502. 162 On the transmission of the Mujaddidiyya to Central Asia, see Anke von Kügelgen, “Die Entfaltung der Naqšbandīya muğaddidīya im mittleren Transoxanien vom 18. bis zum Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts,” in von Kügelgen, Michael Kemper and Allen J. Frank, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Centuries: Vol. 2: Inter-Regional and Inter-Ethnic Relations (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 1998), pp. 101-151; and Sajida S. Alvi, “The Naqshbandī Mujaddidī Sufi Order in Central Asia,” in Todd Lawson, ed., Reason and Inspiration in Islam: Theology, Philosophy and Mysticism in Muslim Thought (London: I.B. Tauris, 2005), pp. 418-431. 163 Mahmûd b. Amîr Walî Balkhî, The Baḥr ul-Asrār. Travelogue of South Asia, ed. Riazul Islam (Karachi: Institute of Central and West Asian Studies, 1980), pp. 11-12 of the Persian text. 164 Subhash Parihar, History and Archtectural Remains of Sirhind, the Greatest Mughal City on Delhi-Lahore Highway (New Delhi: Aryan Books International, 2006), pp. 36-45.

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Paradise;” a corollary of that description was that a handful of soil taken from its 165 environs would earn salvation for anyone into whose tomb it was cast. This wording was borrowed from a well-known Hadith concerning the Masjid alNabawî, plainly in the hope of making Sirhind a local equivalent of Medina, with 166 the same claims to reverent visitation as the mosque and the city of the Prophet. Similarly – perhaps already in the time of Sirhindî – the shrine of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband was being presented, architecturally and otherwise, as a replica of the Ka‘ba, a pretension that many found credible, and for a time at least the Rawza-yi 167 Sharîf may have enjoyed a comparable degree of success. For Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm argued strongly in favour of the elevated status claimed for Sirhind, asserting – with questionable logic – that the near-equivalence between his father’s shrine and the Masjid al-Nabawî resulted from 168 Sirhindî’s allegedly perfect adherence to the Sunna of the Prophet. Whatever its strength, the claim seems to have enjoyed some acceptance, for under Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s stewardship the Mujaddidî khânaqâh (or âstâna [“threshold”] as it is sometimes more grandiosely designated) at Sirhind came to enjoy a remarkable degree of prosperity. The resources made available to him for the support of his following were considerable. Vast sums in cash and kind regularly arrived at the khânaqâh for the upkeep of its residents, including half a bale of coffee per day. In addition, a stack of gold ingots was on hand to help travellers defray 165 Badr al-Dîn Sirhindî, Hazarât al-Quds, Urdu tr., Muhammad Ashraf Naqshbandî (Sialkot: Islâmî Kutubkhâna, 1403/1980), II, p. 111. It was similarly claimed on behalf of the Dargâh of Hazratbâl in Srinagar that the deposit there, in 1700, of a hair supposedly from the head of the Prophet had transformed it into a second Medina: Kashmîr Madîna shud az mû-yi nabî (“Kashmir became Medina from the hair of the Prophet”). See Muhammad Ishaq Khan, “The Significance of the Dargah of Hazratbal in the SocioReligious and Political Life of Kashmiri Muslims,” in Christian W. Troll, ed., Muslim Shrines in India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1992), pp. 174-177. On the value accorded to hairs believed to be from the head of the Prophet, see further note 229 below. 166 The Hadith in question proclaims that “between my tomb and my minbar [i.e. the Masjid al-Nabawî] lies one of the gardens of Paradise (rawda min riyâd al-janna).” See Abû Hâjir Muhammad Sa‘îd Zaghlûl, Mawsû‘at Atrâf al-Hadîth al-Nabawî al-Sharîf (Beirut: ‘Âlam al-Turâth, 1410, 1989), IV, p. 299. Mîr Safar Ahmad Ma‘sûmî, a descendant of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, ranked the mausolea complex at Sirhind inferior only to Medina as a place “the soil of which has been detached from Paradise.” Further, “located within that sacred garden (rawza-yi muqaddasa) are lights without limit, countless instances of divine grace. It has exalted the city of Sirhind over all men and places ...” See Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, ed. Muhammad Iqbâl Mujaddidî (Lahore and Karachi: Zia-ul-Quran Publications, 2004), II, p. 251. A close parallel is provided by the assertion, encountered in certain Shi‘i texts, that the soil of Karbala is derived from Paradise, and that it therefore qualifies as "one of the gardens of Paradise"; see the traditions of dubious validity attributed to Imâm Muhammad al-Bâqir in Muhammad Bâqir Majlisî, Bihâr al-Anwâr (Tehran: Dâr al-Kutub, 1956), XCVIII, p. 60. 167 On the promotion of Bahâ’ al-Dîn’s tomb as a pseudo-Ka‘ba, see below, pp. 116-120. 168 Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, Maktûbât-i Ma‘sûmiyya (Karachi, n.p., n.d.), I, p. 189.

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their expenses. Several Central Asians were among those who benefited from this munificence and for whom Sirhind did indeed serve as a waystation en route to the Hijaz. Foremost among them was Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî, mentioned above in connection with both Istanbul and Damascus; we may now address the earlier stages of his career, first in Sirhind and then, very soon after, the Haramayn. Muhammad Murâd was born in 1640 in Samarkand where his father, Sayyid ‘Alî, was Naqîb al-Ashrâf; the nisba “Bukhârî” presumably refers to Sayyid ‘Alî’s 170 own birthplace or lineage. Undeterred by the infantile paralysis that had assailed him when he was three and lamed him for life, he embarked on a lifetime of travel at the age of twenty-three, leaving Samarkand for Sirhind. His purpose was to obtain initiation into the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya from Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm. This goal was soon reached, for he completed his spiritual training in an unusually short time, a month or even as little as a week, and was given broad authority to represent the Khwâja and dispense initiations into the tarîqat in the 171 Hijaz, Shâm, and Rûm. From Sirhind he chose a circuitous route to the Hijaz, via Damascus and Jerusalem, and then stayed on for three years as mujâwir in Mecca after performing the hajj. His abode there was the Madrasa al-Dâ’ûdiyya where 172 also was lodged Shaykh Muhammad Mîân, a son of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm. This was but the first of three, if not four, occasions on which he came to Mecca for the pilgrimage, but there is no record of his conducting any initiatic activity in the Haramayn; it was rather in Damascus and Istanbul that he engaged in propagating 173 the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya. Nonetheless, while tarrying in Mecca after 169 Seyyid Hasîb Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, Millet Kütüphanesi, ms. Ali Emirî Şeriye 1103, f. 3a. 170 al-Murâdî, Silk al-Durar, IV, p. 129. Two sources report him to have been born in Kashmir: Şeyhî Mehmed Efendi, Vekâyi’ül-Fudelâ, III, p. 673; and Mîr Safar Ahmad Ma‘sûmî, Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, III, p. 469. The testimony of Muhammad Khalîl al-Murâdî, who was after all his lineal descendant, must be given greater weight. Ma‘sûmî is additionally in compound error when on one page he describes Damascus as Murâd Bukhârî’s place of death, and on the next, Jerusalem (Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, III, pp. 469470). Occasional references to Muhammad Murâd as “al-Uzbakî” are also to be encountered, a further confirmation of his non-Kashmiri origins; see Muhammad Kamâl al-Dîn Harîrîzâda, Tibyân Wasâ’il al-Haqâ’iq fî Bayân Salâsil al-Tarâ’iq, ms. Fatih (Süleymaniye) 630- 632, III, p. 244. 171 The brevity of Murâd Bukhârî’s novitiate was evidently far from exceptional. It is said that one week of training by the Khwâja regularly expedited the aspirant to the degree of fanâ, while a whole month of exertion under his supervision resulted in absolute perfection. See Rahmân ‘Alî, Tazkira-yi ‘Ulamâ-yi Hind (Lucknow: Nawal Kishore, 1914), p. 212. 172 Muhammad Kamâl al-Dîn Harîrîzâda, Tibyân Wasâ’il al-Haqâ’iq fî Bayân Salâsil alTarâ’iq, III, p. 243. 173 Of the regions for which Murâd Bukhârî’s was assigned responsibility by Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, Shâm appears to have been regarded as particularly important, for in several Indian accounts of his life, he is simply called “Shaykh Murâd Shâmî” rather

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his first hajj, he gathered enough resources to host Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm and the army of devotees accompanying him from Sirhind when, after a decade of 174 hesitation, he decided to undertake the hajj himself. Thus it was that in 1668 Murâd Bukhârî came to make the pilgrimage a second time, now in the company of his master. Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm had first adumbrated the prospect of performing the pilgrimage in 1657, but after consulting “some far-sighted friends,” he decided, “by way of rational anxiety,” not to confront the perils of the deep and other assorted dangers. A full ten years passed before he was able to put aside his fears and depart Sirhind for the Haramayn, accompanied by his two sons, Muhammad 175 ‘Ubaydullâh and Muhammad Naqshband. He may have deemed the perils of the ocean less fearsome than the misfortunes then assailing Sirhind: an outbreak of the plague, claiming three or four hundred victims a day; the disruption caused by 176 fighting among the Mughal princes; and famine. His progress from Sirhind to Surat lasted a whole week, for he stopped off in Panipat, Delhi and elsewhere to visit the tombs of various Sufis, including Bâqî Bi’llâh, his father’s guide on the Naqshbandî path. By the time he arrived in Surat, no fewer than 7,000 followers had joined him to go on the hajj, including 2,000 khalîfas seven hundred of whom 177 had come with him from Sirhind. Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s arrival had long been awaited by Muhammad Murâd in Mecca. In preparation for the day, and mindful, perhaps, of the problems caused by earlier mass arrivals from India, he had assembled each year the supplies 178 he thought would be needed by the Khwâja and his party. It is similarly related

174 175

176 177

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than “Bukhârî.” See Mawlânâ Sayyid Zuwwâr Husayn Shâh, Anwâr-i Ma‘sûmiyya (Karachi: Idâra-yi Mujaddidiyya, 1401/1980), p. 353; Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, translated from the Arabic original into Persian by Muhammad Shâkir b. Badr al-Dîn Sirhindî and edited with Urdu translation and notes by Muhammad Iqbâl Mujaddidî (Musazai Sharif: Maktaba-yi Sirâjiyya-yi Khânaqâh-i Ahmadiyya-yi Sa‘îdiyya, 1981), p. 25; and Muhammad Ihsân Mujaddidî Sirhindî, Rawzat alQayyûmiyya (Lahore: Maktaba-yi Nabaviyya, 1409/1989), II, p. 151. Mawlânâ Sayyid Zuwwâr Husayn Shâh, Anwâr-i Ma‘sûmiyya, p. 354. Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, p. 167 of Persian text. The work was additionally translated into Ottoman Turkish by Müstakim-zâde Süleyman Sadeddin Efendi; see Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, f. 3b. See also O. F. Akimushkin, “Dva redkikh pamiatnika musul’manskoi agiograficheskoi literatury,” Kratkie Soobshcheniia Instituta Vostokovedeniia, XXXVIII (1960), pp. 41-47. Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, p. 168. Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, p. 25; Muhammad Ihsân Mujaddidî Sirhindî, Rawzat al-Qayyûmiyya, II, p. 89. These figures perhaps represent hagiographical hyperbole. Given the expedited processing of novices for which Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm was celebrated, the exaggeration may not, however, be extreme. Even allowing, again, for a degree of exaggeration, it is entirely unclear how Muhammad Murâd could have gathered single-handedly the resources needed for the veritable army that Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm brought with him to Mecca.

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that throughout those years of uncertainty, many of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s followers – Central Asians as well as Indians – would annually sell their household possessions in order to finance their journey to the Haramayn and then gather at Sirhind in the hope of departing in the blessed company of the Khwâja. When the hajj season had come and gone with no sign of him readying himself for the journey, some would return to their homes, hoping for better fortune the next time, and others leave for the Hijaz, ready to perform the hajj the following year. Khwâja 179 Muhammad Ma‘sûm did not discourage this practice. Despite the throng of devotees that accompanied him on the hajj, and the opportunities for still broader propagation of the tarîqat afforded by the occasion, there is little evidence that he had significant interaction with anyone beyond his immediate entourage, which presumably included Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî and Ahmad Yakdast Jûryânî, whose story we will soon relate. This, at least, is the impression to be gained from Hasanât al-Haramayn, the record of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s pilgrimage drawn up by Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh. He mentions only that some people in Medina, not further identified, expressed a wish to enter the Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî order; that Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm spent some time in devotional seclusion (khalwat) with one of his foremost khalîfas, Badr alDîn Sultânpûrî, again in Medina; and that when, homeward bound, he disembarked at Surat, a large crowd thronged the dockside anxious for initiation into the 180 tarîqat. The entirety of the text consists otherwise of an extravagant and ultimately tedious enumeration of the visions that allegedly beset the Khwâja at every stage of his journey, many of them culminating in the bestowal of a robe (khil‘at). Noteworthy in particular is that while en route to Mecca from Mocha – for that is where he first set foot on Arabian shore – he saw the Ka‘ba coming towards him, in the guise of a tall, fair-skinned woman, clothed in red and smiling winsomely at 181 him; on another occasion, the Ka‘ba simultaneously dissolved and embraced him. It was also a vision, this time of the Prophet, that ultimately persuaded Khwâja 179 Mîr Safar Ahmad Ma‘sûmî, Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, III, p. 469. The relevant passage of this Persian text is so deficient in clarity and comprehensibility that I have based my understanding of it on the Urdu translation made by its editor, Muhammad Iqbâl Mujaddidî; see Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, II, p. 609. 180 Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, pp. 187, 201, 206. 181 Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, p. 171, 168. One is tempted to ask whether this beauteous feminine vision is what his father, Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî, had in mind when he spoke of haqîqat-i Ka‘ba, “the true essence of the Ka‘ba;” see, for example, Maktûbât, III, pp. 586-588, where he asserts the superiority of the haqîqat-i Ka‘ba to the haqîqat-i Muhammadî. More disquieting still are the visions in which ‘Â’isha, wife of the Prophet, and Fâtima, his daughter, supposedly vied with each other for the honour of hosting the Khwâja in Medina, each trying to tug him in her own direction (Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, pp. 190-191). It would be hard to discern in these accounts any trace of the celebrated “sobriety” of the Naqshbandîs.

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Muhammad Ma‘sûm to depart the Hijaz and return to India. For if fear of stormy weather had delayed his pilgrimage for many years, he was now reluctant to depart, for whatever reason. But Dârâ Shukûh, known for enmity to the sharî‘a and the Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî order, so the Hasanât al-Haramayn would have it, was poised to seize the Mughal throne; and when the Prophet appeared to the Khwâja bearing a sword, he interpreted it as a command to return to India and throw his 182 weight behind the infinitely preferable Awrangzêb. There is, however, evidence that Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm did more at the Haramayn than experience a vertiginous succession of visions. Ibn al-‘Ujaymî, author of Khabâyâ al-Zawâyâ, a valuable source on Sufis at the Haramayn in the seventeenth century, met the Khwâja on the road between Mecca and Medina, as the the two men were travelling in opposite directions between the two sacred cities. Many people had already benefited from his instruction, including a certain Shaykh ‘Îsâ al-Tha‘âlibî, and now Ibn al-‘Ujaymî and one of his companions requested and received from Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm initiation into the Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî silsila and instruction in the silent method of dhikr that was the hallmark of the order. Later, he visited him at the house where he was staying near Bâb 183 Ibrâhîm in Mecca. Another encounter between Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm and a prominent Sufi resident in the Haramayn proved far less irenic. One of his concerns while in Mecca had been to quell the concerns raised by his father’s assertion of the superiority of the haqîqat-i Ka‘ba to the haqîqat-i Muhammadî. To this end he sent his son, Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, on a courtesy call to Ahmad Qushâshî, who, it will be recalled, was heir to a different Naqshbandî lineage. In return, Qushâshî dispatched two of his own followers, Ibrâhîm Kûrânî and Muhannâ ‘Awad al-Hadramî, to meet with Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm. Kûrânî recounts that he went with some trepidation, for he was aware of the Naqshbandîs’ reputation for gaining irresistible control of men’s inner beings by way of the technique known as tasarruf. Muhannâ, however, as if speaking to himself, asked Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm: “Do you imagine that there is none who can surpass you or 182 Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, pp. 203-204. On Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s relations with Awrangzêb, see Saiyid Athar Abbas Rizvi, Muslim Revivalist Movements in Northern India in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Agra: Agra University, 1965), pp. 389, 406, and Yohanan Friedmann, “The Naqshbandîs and Awrangzêb: a Reconsideration,” in Marc Gaborieau, Alexandre Popovic, and Thierry Zarcone, eds., Naqshbandîs: Cheminements et Situation Actuelle d’un Ordre Mystique Musulman (Istanbul: Isis Yayınları, 1990), pp. 209-220. 183 Ibn al-‘Ujaymî, Khabâyâ al-Zawâyâ, ff. 114b-115a. On the Khwâja’s stay in Mecca and Medina, see also Atallah S. Copty, “The Naqshbandiyya and Its Offshoot, the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya in the Haramayn in the 11th/17th Century,” pp. 335-337. Copty is in error, however, when he writes that Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm and his party stayed on for three years at the Haramayn, for Ibn al-‘Ujaymî’s statement that Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm returned to India after one year is unambiguous.

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that there is none in this city who can resist you?” The Khwâja did not respond, but he was seen to be perspiring heavily, trying to no avail to exert his powers of tasarruf. Shortly thereafter, the meeting broke up and it became apparent to Kûrânî 184 that Qushâshî’s tasarruf had vanquished that of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm. As for Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî, he left not long after on a journey home to Samarkand. He came first to Baghdad and then to Isfahan, where he made the acquaintance of, among others, a fellow devotee of long-distance travel, the poet Mîrzâ Sâ’ib-i Tabrîzî (d. 1676); the sociability he enjoyed there and elsewhere in Iran provides additional proof that Sunnis, including presumably pilgrims en route 185 to and from the Hijaz, could traverse the Safavid realm without trepidation. The journey home accomplished, he visited Bukhara and Balkh before retracing his steps to Baghdad (perhaps again by way of Iran; on this, the sources are silent). In 1668, he went once more on the hajj, after which he revisited Cairo before settling in Damascus for a little more than ten years. He performed the hajj yet again in 186 1686. The life of Hâjî Habîb Allâh Bukhârî (d. 1698), another Central Asian khalîfa of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, was far more straightforward, for his travels took him only to Bukhara, Sirhind, and the Hijaz. His influence was, however, considerable; it was said that in his person the main line of Naqshbandî transmission had returned to its Bukharan homeland, after a lengthy period of exile that had begun with the move of Khwâja Bâqî Bi’llâh (d. 1613), the preceptor of Ahmad Sirhindî, first to Kabul and then to Delhi. Even more extravagantly, it was claimed on Hâjî Habîb Allâh’s behalf that he was the mujaddid, the centennial renewer for the 187 twelfth century of the Islamic era. Certain is that with him the Mujaddidiyya became firmly established in Central Asia, either absorbing or overshadowing other branches of the Naqshbandiyya. Born in a village near Hisar, Hâjî Habîb Allâh began his studies in Bukhara before joining the circle of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm 184 Abû Sâlim al-‘Ayyâshî, al-Rihlat al-‘Ayyâshiyya (Rabat: Maktabat al-Tâlib, 1397/1977), I, pp. 405-406. 185 Sâ’ib’s wanderings took him to Isfahan, Herat, Kabul, Agra and Konya before he finally returned to his birthplace of Tabriz. The fame his poetry in Persian and Turkish acquired in the Mughal and Ottoman as well as Safavid realms is a further proof of the permeability of the “sectarian barrier” that, according to scholars such as Suraiya Faroqhi, separated Iran from its neighbours, and an oblique affirmation of its availabity as a hajj route for Central Asians. 186 On Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî’s activities in Damascus and Istanbul and the institutions he founded in both cities, see above, pp. 46-47 and 62-63. 187 Anke von Kügelgen convincingly suggests that this notion of a return from exile is linked to the struggle waged by the Mujaddidîs, with the support of two successive rulers of Bukhara, Shâh Murâd (r. 1785-1800) and Amîr Haydar (r. 1800-1846), against the vocal form of dhikr that had become pervasive in Central Asia; this opposition is a perennial theme in Naqshbandî history. See “Die Entfaltung der Naqšbandīya muğaddidīya im mittleren Transoxanien vom 18. bis zum Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts,” pp. 115-116, 127.

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in Sirhind. It was from there that he proceeded to make the hajj, perhaps in 1078/ 1668 together with the Khwâja. At the request of the people of Bukhara, Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm appointed Hâjî Habîb Allâh as his khalîfa for the region, and he fulfilled his duties worthily by fostering the study of the Maktûbât both of Sirhindî and of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm to a degree not seen even in India. Several lines of initiatic transmission went forth from him, including one that led across the steppes to the towns and villages of the Volga basin. Particularly worthy of mention among his immediate successors is Sûfî Allâhyâr (d. 1723), author of Maslak 188 al-Muttaqîn, a widely read handbook of religious practice in Persian verse. It was also in Bukhara that Muhammad Murâd renewed his acquaintance with Hâjî Habîb 189 Allâh on the visit home to Transoxiana he made in roughly 1669. Considerably less peripatetic than Muhammad Murâd but equally significant for the westward conveyance of the Mujaddidiyya was a third Central Asian khalîfa of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm whose road to the hajj passed through Sirhind. This was Shaykh Ahmad Yakdast Jûryânî, who began life as a merchant trading between Bukhara and India. In 1659, as he was proceeding south on one such venture, news reached him that an outbreak of the plague had robbed him of both wife and children. By way of further misfortune, he was set upon by highway robbers and lost his left hand in the ensuing melee; hence his sobriquet, “Yakdast.” He found his way to Sirhind and the presence of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, to whom he plaintively exhibited the amputated member in the hope of eliciting sympathy. Instead, the Khwâja saw fit to upbraid him: “Ahmad, do you think that you deserve some favour from God [simply] because of a severed hand?” So saying, he cast the luckless limb aside and immediately instructed Jûryânî in the Naqshbandî method of dhikr. He also dispatched him to the kitchen where he found no fewer than twenty servants engaged in preparing coffee for the residents of the khânaqâh. It was to Jûryânî alone, however, that was now assigned the privilege of 188 See the diagram on p. 114 of Anke von Kügelgen, “Die Entfaltung der Naqšbandīya muğaddidīya im mittleren Transoxanien vom 18. bis zum Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts.” On Hâjî Habîb Allâh’s transmission of the Mujaddidiyya to the Tatar lands, see Rizaeddin b. Fakhreddin, Âsâr, I (Kazan: Tipo-litografiia Imperatorskago Universiteta, 1900), pp. 22-24. 189 Mawlânâ Sayyid Zuwwâr Husayn Shâh, Anwâr-i Ma‘sûmiyya, p. 346; Mîrzâ Safar Ahmad Ma‘sûmî, Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, III, pp. 467-468; Rauzat al-Qayyûmiyya, II, p. 360. Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm corresponded several times with Hâjî Habîb Allâh Bukhârî, mostly to interpret the dreams and visions he reported to him; see Maktûbât-i Ma‘sûmiyya, II, pp. 226-228; III, pp. 212-213 (this letter appears to have been written soon after Hâjî Habîb Allâh had returned from the hajj, or possibly while he was still in the Hijaz, for he addresses him in congratulatory mode as Hâjî (sic) al-Haramayn alSharafayn); and III, pp. 276-278 (here, it seems that Hâjî Habîb Allâh was aspiring to return to Sirhind from Bukhara, a choice from which Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm found it wise to discourage him).

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providing Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm with his coffee. Seventeen years later, in 1665, he entrusted Jûryânî with a loftier task, that of disseminating the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya in the Haramayn, for his previous khalîfa in Mecca – name unknown – had just died. Jûryânî forthwith took ship for Jeddah and almost immediately after disembarking hastened on to Mecca, which was to be his home 191 for the next forty-three years. It was there that he died in 1707, leaving behind as his designated successor for the Haramayn a certain ‘Abd al-Rahîm Bukhârî, resid192 ent in Medina. It is said of Ahmad Yakdast that “both Arabs and non-Arabs (‘arab ve ‘acem)” clustered around him in Mecca, but most of those known to have been introduced by him to the Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî path were Ottomans of diverse background 193 who in the first instance had come to Mecca for the hajj. Among them were Kırımî (also known as Tatar) Ahmed Efendi (d. 1743), who became postnişin at the 194 Emir Buhârî tekke near Eğrikapı after returning to Istanbul; Hüseyinpaşazâde Kımıl Mehmed Bey (d. Istanbul, 1719), who served the Ottoman State as beylerbeyi of Habeş (a province roughly corresponding to present-day Eritrea) and governor of 195 196 Jerusalem; Kahraman Ağa, sometime equerry (çukadar) to Mehmed IV; Ziyâ197 uddin Muhammed Efendi (d. 1736), kadıasker of Rumelia; and a Bosnian, Ako190 Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, ff. 2a, 3b. This author attributes to Jûryânî a residence in Mecca of only thirty-three years, but if the other information he provides concerning his life be correct, an extra decade should be added to the length of Jûryânî’s mujâwara. Al-Murâdî writes only that Jûryânî stayed in Mecca for an indefinite number of years, while confirming 1119/1707 as the date of his death (Silk al-Durar, I, p. 108). 191 Given the length of Yakdast’s service as Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s khalîfa in Mecca, it might be assumed that correspondence passed between them in the twentytwo years that elapsed between the beginning of his appointment and Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s death. The three-volume collection of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s letters does not, however, contain a single letter addressed to him, unless it be that the Shaykh Ahmad Bukhârî whom Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm advises on the meaning of his visions is identical with Ahmad Yakdast. See Maktûbât-i Ma‘sûmî, II, pp. 56, 221, and III, pp. 110, 151-152. 192 Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, f. 4a; al-Murâdî, Silk al-Durar, I, p. 108. 193 Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, f. 4a. A Central Asian exception to this rule of Ottoman predominance among Yakdast’s initiates was Shaykh Khudâyqulî of Khwarazm, who was also instructed in the tarîqat by Hâjî Habîb Allâh Bukhârî; see Anke von Kügelgen, “Die Entfaltung der Naqšbandīya muğaddidīya im mittleren Transoxanien vom 18. bis zum Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts,” p. 119. 194 Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, f. 4a; Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, p. 165. 195 Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, f. 4b; Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, p. 169. 196 Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, p. 226. 197 Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, f. 4b; Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, p. 227.

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valızade Ahmed Hatem (d. Yenişehir, 1755). As for Yekçesm Murtaza (d. 1747), he held a variety of actuarial positions but his most significant legacy was the Kaşgarî 199 Tekkesi at Eyüp he founded a year before his death. Carullah Veliyüddin (d. Istanbul, 1738) tarried longer in Mecca than any other Ottoman devotee of Yakdast: he arrived in 1691 and stayed on in his company for a full seven years. After returning from the Hijaz, he qualified as a müderris and served as a kadı in Aleppo 200 and Edirne before devoting himself to teaching at Fatih Camii. The line of Yakdast was additionally represented in Istanbul by a fellow Central Asian, Muhammad Samarqandî (d. 1704), who settled in Üsküdar and established a tekke in the 201 district of Şemsi Paşa. All the figures just mentioned begat spiritual lineages of varying significance and duration, but Ahmad Yakdast’s most influential Ottoman khalîfa was without doubt Mehmed Emin Tokadî. Together with Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî, he must be accounted the principal transmitter of the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya to the Ottoman lands. Already solidly grounded in the religious sciences, Tokadî set out for the Hijaz by way of Egypt in 1702. After performing the hajj he stayed on for three years to benefit from the instruction of Ahmad Yakdast. Returning to Istanbul via Egypt, he set about propagating the Mujaddidiyya in close cooperation with his pirdaş, Kımıl Mehmed Bey. He left once more for Mecca six years later, travelling by way of Jerusalem with Kımıl Mehmed Bey who had been charged with repairing the aqueducts of Mecca. Ahmad Yakdast had passed on by then, but Tokadî was warmly received by ‘Abd al-Rahmân Bukhârî, and he now spent a further six years in Mecca before returning to the Ottoman capital. He died in 1745, two years after succeeding Kırımî Ahmed Efendi as postnişin at the Emir Buhârî tekke near Eğrikapı. A prolific author and tireless translator from both Arabic and Persian, he 202 left behind a substantial literary legacy. Among his several successors in the tarîqat, the most noteworthy was Müstakim-zâde Süleyman Sadeddin Efendi (d. 1788); he rivalled his master in scholarly fecundity and is noted above all for his

198 Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, p. 228. Akova is the Ottoman name for Bijelo Polje, now located in Montenegro. In 2009, Mirza Sarajkić of the Filozofski Fakultet at the University of Sarajevo completed a dissertation on the Arabic poetry of Akovalızade: Gazeli na arapskom jeziku Ahmeda Bjelopoljaka. 199 Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, pp. 227-228. This appellation alludes to ‘Abd Allâh Nidâ’î Kaşgarî, the first postnişin at the tekke, a Naqshbandî of a non-Mujaddidî lineage, concerning whom see p. 32-33 above. 200 Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, pp. 224-226. 201 Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, pp. 156-157. 202 On the life and works of Tokadî, see Üsküdarî, Menâkıb-Name-i Mehmed Emin-i Tokadî, passim; Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, pp. 169-214; and Halil Ibrahim Şimşek, Mehmed Emîn-i Tokâdî: Hayatı ve Risaleleri (Istanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 2005).

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florid translation into Ottoman Turkish of the Maktubât both of Shaykh Ahmad 203 Sirhindî and of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm. Another Bukharan devotee of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, Muhammad Sâdiq, settled in Medina; whether he passed the tarîqat on to anyone else while res204 ident there is unknown. In any event, the careers of Muhammad Murâd and Ahmad Yakdast Jûryânî, especially the latter, are ample proof that it was via the 205 Hijaz that Central Asians mediated the Mujaddidiyya to the Ottoman lands. It can, in fact, be asserted that the activity of these and other khalîfas of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, at the Haramayn and beyond, constituted the most intense effort at organised diffusion of the Naqshbandiyya since the time of Ahrâr. When Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm died in 1668, the cohesion of the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya was shaken by a dispute over succession, that great bane of so many Sufi groups, major and minor. Some thought one of his sons, Muhammad Sibghat Allâh, to be the new qayyûm, while a larger number espoused the claim of another son, Khwâja Muhammad Naqshband-i Sânî. When the latter died in 1703, it was ultimately his grandson, Muhammad Zubayr (d. 1739) who prevailed as qayyûm over a profusion of challengers, but at the price of abandoning Sirhind 206 for the more hospitable climate of Shahjahanabad. Although the universe survived this uncertainty concerning the identity of its unique human support, the appeal of Sirhind as a centre of spiritual instruction and as a waystation to the Hijaz declined noticeably. Several Central Asian Mujaddidîs did, however, travel via Sirhind to the Hijaz in the time of the third qayyûm, Khwâja Muhammad Naqshband-i Sânî. One such was Muhammad Bek Uzbakî, a murîd of one of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî’s grand203 al-Murâdî, Silk al-Durar, I, pp. 107-108. Safideddin Müstakimzade prefaced his translation of the two sets of Maktûbat with an introduction outlining the biographies of Yakdast and Mehmed Emin Tokadî (Istanbul: Matba‘a-ı Litugrafya, 1277/1860), I, p. 20. 204 The letters Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm addressed to him reveal nothing of a biographical nature. See Maktûbât-i Mas‘ûmiyya, I, pp. 151-152, III, pp. 105-106, 152-153. Four other Bukharan initiates settled in India: Muhammad Sharîf Bukhârî and his brother, Khwâja ‘Abd al-Latîf, who took up residence in Sirhind (Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, III, p. 501; Anwâr-i Ma‘sûmiyya, p. 351; Maktûbât-i Mas‘ûmiyya, II, pp. 230-231, III, pp. 111, 205); Muhammad ‘Âshûr Bukhârî, who assembled the third volume of the Maktûbât-i Mas‘ûmiyya and died at Shahjahanabad in 1695 (Maktûbât-i Mas‘ûmiyya, I, pp. 296297, II, pp. 58, 223-224, III, pp. 15-17, 292; Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, III, p. 498); and Muhammad Amîn Bukhârî, who settled in Peshawar (Maqâmât-i Ma‘sûmî, III, p. 497; Maktûbât-i Mas‘ûmiyya, II, pp. 26, 53-54, 219, III, pp. 57-59, 221-222). It is to be presumed that all four made the hajj at some point, perhaps as part of the horde that accompanied Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm in 1657. 205 On the transmission of the Mujaddidiyya to the Ottomans, see also Butrus Abu-Manneh, “The Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya in the Ottoman Lands in the Early 19th Century,” Die Welt des Islams XXII (1984), pp. 1-36. 206 Necdet Tosun, İmâm-ı Rabbânî Ahmed Sirhindî: Hayatı, Eserleri, Tasavvufî Görüşleri (Istanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 2005), p. 126.

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sons, Muhammad Farrukh, who evidently chose to settle in India for he is sometimes designated Uzbakî-Burhânpûrî. He arrived in the Hijaz from India in roughly the year 1682, expressly, it would appear, to defend the controversial views and claims of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî, an estimate of which had been sought from the ‘ulamâ of the Haramayn. Several of the resident scholars responded to the istiftâ’ with a strong condemnation, but on Rabî I 2, 1094/March 1, 1693 Muhammad Bek Uzbakî completed an equally vigorous defense of Sirhindî with the title ‘Atîyat al207 Wahhâb al-Fâsila bayn al-Khata’ wa al-Sawâb. Addressing himself serially to the points raised in the istiftâ’, Uzbakî asserts that Sirhindî’s letters containing the apparently objectionable claims have been mistranslated from Persian to Arabic and on occasion he simply denies the attribution of certain statements to the Mujaddid. In addition, Uzbakî prepared his own Arabic translation and championed Sirhindî in oral debate with the ‘ulamâ. His arguments evidently carried some weight in his own time, and his treatise was found still worthy of publication some 208 two centuries later. Known to have made his way from Sirhind to the Haramayn at a somewhat later date was Mîr Ghiyâs al-Dîn of Badakhshan, with the pen-name Ghiyâsî (d. 1767). Born at Hisârak on the shores of Lake Gökcha, he came to Sirhind early in life and there joined the following of Shâh Ghulâm Muhammad Ma‘sûm known as Ma‘sûm-i Sânî (“the second Ma‘sûm”) by way of suggestion that he was equal to his great forebear and namesake, Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm. Before returning to Badakhshan to act as Shâh Ghulâm Muhammad Ma‘sûm’s khalîfa, Mîr Ghiyâs alDîn set out on the hajj, but “because of the ecstatic states (jazba) that befell him, he went mad in the desert and wandered for six months without mount or provisions.” Even after arriving in the Hijaz, his troubles were not over, for he fell sick with fever, but was quickly cured after dreaming of the Prophet and placing his head at the foot of his tomb. His fortunes changed markedly after returning to Badakhshan: he enjoyed prestige as a sayyid, wore sumptuous clothing, and would commonly be accompanied by four hundred qalandar-bachchas, whose “sweet tones enraptured 209 even the angels of the divine throne.” 207 Printed in the margins of Muhammad Murâd al-Manzilawî (=al-Qazânî)’s Arabic translation of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî’s Maktûbât (Mecca: al-Matba‘at al-Amîriyya, 1317/ 1900). III, pp. 2-184. 208 Yohanan Friedmann, Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi (Montreal and London: McGill University Press, 1971), pp. 8, 96, 99-101; Necdet Tosun, Imâm-ı Rabbânî Ahmed Sirhindî, p. 136; Atallah S. Copty, “The Naqshbandiyya and Its Offshoot, the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya in the Haramayn in the 11th/17th Century,” pp. 338-340. 209 Mîrzâ Sang Muhammad Khân, Târîkh-i Badakhshân, ed. A.N. Boldyrev (Leningrad: Izdatel’stvo Leningradskogo Universiteta, 1959), pp. 97-98; Amirbek Habibov, Ganji Badakhshon (Dushanbe: Nashriyoti Irfon, 1972), pp. 171-176; Alexandre Papas, “Soufis du Badakhshân : un renouveau confrérique entre l’Inde et l’Asie centrale,” Cahiers d’Asie centrale 11 (2003), pp. 87-102.

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Some seven years before Mîr Ghiyâs al-Dîn bade a no doubt reluctant farewell to this life of much delayed opulence, a certain ‘Abd al-Qayyûm Kashmîrî came to the hamlet of Dahbîd near Samarkand to join the following of Khwâja Mûsâ Khân (d. 1776). Although a descendant of the hereditary shaykhs of the Dahbîdî line, Khwâja Mûsâ Khân had seen fit to acquire a Mujaddidî affiliation, evidently in Kash210 mir, from Mîân Muhammad ‘Âbid Jahânâbâdî. Soon after his initiation at the hands of Khwâja Mûsâ Khân, ‘Abd al-Qayyûm Kashmîrî departed on the hajj and stayed on in the Haramayn for seven years, during which time he was appointed overseer of the Masjid al-Nabawî and conveyed the tarîqat to numerous pupils. Next, he spent a year or two in Iraq and Iran, where again he conveyed the tarîqat to several aspirants, before returning to Dahbîd to visit the tomb of Khwâja Mûsâ Khân. Then, in 1796, almost a centenarian, he set out on the hajj once more. He 211 died in 1801, roughly four years after his return. It is noteworthy that ‘Abd alQayyûm Kashmîrî’s extensive record of travel does not appear to have included a stay in Sirhind. Disputes among the Mujaddidîs of Sirhind were but one reason for its decline as destination and waystation. Of far greater significance were the disorders wracking the Punjab in the eighteenth century that spelled disaster for the city. Sikhs, Afghans, and Marathas took turns in plundering Sirhind and massacring its people, and definitive ruin came in 1765 when Jassa Singh Ahluwalia sacked it once 212 more, razing many of its buildings to the ground. Even before this final disaster,

210 Baxtiyor Babadžanov, “The Naqšbandīya Muğaddidīya in Central Māwarā’annahr in the Late 18th and Early 19th Centuries,” in Michael Kemper, Anke von Kügelgen, and Dmitriy Yermakov, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Centuries (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1996), pp. 391-392. It seems probable that by “Jahânâbâdî”, “Shâhjahânâbâdî” is meant. See too Anke von Kügelgen, “Die Entfaltung der Naqšbandīya muğaddidīya im mittleren Transoxanien vom 18. bis zum Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts,” p. 113, n. 41. 211 Baxtiyor Babadžanov, “The Naqšbandīya Muğaddidīya in Central Māwarā’annahr in the Late 18th and Early 19th Centuries”; Anke von Kügelgen, “Die Entfaltung der Naqšbandīya muğaddidīya im mittleren Transoxanien vom 18. bis zum Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts,” p. 143. 212 Parihar, History and Archtectural Remains of Sirhind, pp. 15-18; Ganda Singh, “Sirhind in the Eighteenth Century,” in Fauja Singh, ed., Sirhind through the Ages (Patiala: Punjabi University, 1984), pp. 91-114. Destruction again befell Sirhind in the communal massacres that accompanied the partition of the Subcontinent; on this occasion the library attached to the shrines of Sirhindî and Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm was burned and many of the ancillary buildings were destroyed. When the present writer went to Sirhind in 1977, the shrine complex had a forlorn appearance, and the only other visitors were a group of Naqshbandîs from Indian-occupied Kashmir on their way to Delhi. To judge by the illustrations in Parihar’s book, it has been pleasingly restored in more recent times.

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Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî leadership, in the person of Mîrzâ Mazhar Jânjânân (d. 213 1781), had effectively shifted to Delhi.

Nineteenth-Century Imperialism and Its Multiple Impacts For the Muslims of Central Asia, the most obvious consequence of this century of misfortune was the establishment of Russian rule, direct or indirect, throughout the region and the extinction or weakening of all the Uzbek khanates, an outcome much facilitated by the rivalries long endemic among them. In 1865, Tashkent was detached from the Khanate of Khoqand, and the very next year it was formally annexed to the Russian Empire. In 1867, it was made the capital of the newly formed guberniia of Turkestan with the aim of supplanting Bukhara as the principal city of all Central Asia. The conquest of the Bukharan Khanate soon followed: Samarkand was captured in 1868 and incorporated together with other conquered areas into the okrug of Zarafshan, while the Khan himself was reduced to the status of vassal. 214 In 1873, the Khanate of Khiva was abolished, and in 1876 that of Khoqand. One result of this wave of conquest was that the Tatars of Kazan, already enduring Russian rule since the mid-sixteenth century, were now joined with their Central Asian brethren under a single dominion; this tended to an intensification of their links with Bukhara, which in turn had consequences both for the cultivation of the 215 Naqshbandiyya and for their participation in the hajj. The range and number of routes available to Central Asian pilgrims remained, however, more or less the same. By the end of the century, three routes had been identified by Russian officials: via the Caucasus and northwestern Iran to Najaf, Karbala, and thence on to Arabia; from Samarkand and Bukhara through Mazâr-i Sharîf, Kabul, Peshawar, Bombay, and thence by sea to Jeddah or Yanbu; and via Odessa, Sevastopol or Batumi to Istanbul and thence again by sea to Suez and Jed216 dah or Yanbu. 213 See Hamid Algar, “Mîrzâ Mazhar,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, XXVIII, pp. 195-196. 214 For a convenient summary of these developments, see Hélène Carrère d’Encausse, “Systematic Conquest, 1865 to 1884,” in Edward Allworth, ed., Central Asia: a Century of Russian Rule (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967), pp. 131-149. 215 Abdullah Battal-Taymas, Kazan Türkleri (Ankara: Türk Kültürünü Araştırma Enstitüsü, 1966), p. 113. 216 E.A. Rezvan, “al-Khadzhzh iz Rossii,” Islam na Territorii byvshei Rossiiskoi Imperii: ‘entsiklopedicheskii slovar’ (Moscow: Vostochnaia Literatura, 1998), I, pp. 97. This article is essentially identical with Rezvan’s introduction to his translation of Abdülaziz Devletshin’s travelogue: Efim Ridwan [= Rezvan], ed. and trans., al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana: al-Rihlat al-sirriya li’l-dâbit al-rûsî ‘Abd al-‘Azîz Dawlatshîn ilâ Makka alMukarrama (Beirut: Dâr at-Taqrîb bayn al-Madhâhib al-Islamîya, 1419/1999). [Hereafter: Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at Sana]. See also the contributions of Shovosil Zidoyov and Sharifa Tosheva to this volume.

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For obvious reasons, the first of these routes was favoured primarily by the Shi‘ites of the Caucasus. Stray anecdotal evidence confirms, however, that a number of Central Asian pilgrims also chose to enter Iran, from both the west and the east, and were able to traverse the country without significant difficulty. On his visit to Mecca in 1815, Johann Ludwig Burckhardt encountered some Indian Hanafis who had passed safely through the southern provinces of Iran on their way to Baghdad and thence to the Hijaz; the same possibility presumably existed for 217 their brethren coming from Central Asia. Longstanding territorial disputes between the Ottomans and Iran were settled by the Treaty of Erzurum in 1847, bringing centuries of intermittent warfare, liable to interrupt hajj traffic, finally to an end. As for the Khurasanian frontier, it remained an object of sporadic contest until the early 1860s, and in 1807 it had been precisely a dervish from Bukhara with dual Yasawî and Naqshbandî affiliations, Sûfî Islâm by name, who had helped ward off 218 an Iranian attack on Herat. But when the din of battle was not to be heard, Central Asian pilgrims were able to pick their way through Khurasan. In Turbat-i Shaykh Jâm, some 50 kilometres distant from the present Afghan frontier, there was even a Naqshbandî khânaqâh, affiliated to the Mujaddidî branch of the order, where they might lodge before continuing on their way; it was presided over by descendants of the celebrated Shaykh Ahmad-i Jâm “Zhanda-Pîl” (d. 1141) who had 219 turned to the Naqshbandiyya some time in the eighteenth century. In one recorded case, pilgrims from Central Asia even benefited from official sympathy and assistance while passing through Khurasan. Returning from a diplomatic mission to the Khan of Khiva in 1851, the Iranian littérateur and historian, Rizâqulî Khân Hidâyat (d. 1871), chose to travel in the company of a certain Rahmat Allâh Îshân, who was on his way to the hajj. One night, the party stopped to rest at a waystation between Astarabad and Damghan, and when dawn broke, it became apparent that Rahmat Allâh Îshân had expired. “He was a learned and virtuous man,” Hidâyat recalls, “one of the people of Khoqand and the leader of the Naqshbandî dervishes… I felt great pity for him, and I ordered that he be properly shrouded and buried… We then moved on, and I had his children and womenfolk 220 accompany me.” 217 John Lewis [=Johann Ludwig] Burckhardt, Travels in Arabia, comprehending an account of those territories in Hadjaz which the Mohammedans regard as sacred (London: H. Colburn, 1829), I, p. 269. 218 Asîl al-Dîn Harawî, Risâla-yi Mazârât-i Harât (Kabul: n.p., 1346/1967), pp. 154-157. 219 Notes from a conversation with Hâjî Fakhr al-Dîn Ahmadî, presiding shaykh at the khânaqâh, during a visit to Turbat-i Shaykh Jâm in June 1970. He informed me that he had murîds in Pakistan and Afghanistan as well as Iranian Khurasan and laid out before me his Naqshbandî silsila which went back through eleven generations to Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm. 220 Rizâqulî Khân Hidâyat, Sifârat-nâma-yi Khwârazm (Tehran: Tahûrî, 1356/1977), pp. 132-133. [Reprint of the text first published, with French translation and annotation, by

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Another dervish, albeit one singularly lacking in credentials, the Hungarian adventurer, scholar, and spy, Arminius Vambéry, was to travel in reverse direction from Hidâyat and Rahmat Allâh Îshân a little more than a decade later; it was from Tehran that, in 1863, he set out for Khiva, Bukhara and Samarkand. Hosted in the Iranian capital by the Ottoman embassy, to the staff of which he was known as Reşid Efendi, he discovered that hospitality was also customarily extended to Central Asian pilgrims on their way to and from the Hijaz. They were lodged on the embassy grounds for several days and given cash and supplies to help them complete the long trek home. That such arrangements were in place as a matter of custom suggests that the Iranian route was frequently chosen by pilgrims from Central Asia, free of sectarian harassment at this relatively advanced point in history. However, on entering Iranian territory at Hamadan, these Central Asian travellers were required to pay what Vambéry calls a “Sunni tax,” still being levied despite a recent 221 agreement between Sultan and Shah that it be abolished. This disadvantage was offset, to a considerable degree, by the absence of any need for a Russian passport 222 to enter Iran and then proceed on to the hajj. The hospitality made available by the Ottomans on the grounds of their legation in Tehran was but a minor indication of their desire both to maintain links with Central Asia and to continue acting as the supreme patrons of the hajj. This dual aspiration found clearer and more significant expression in Istanbul, the allure of which for Central Asian pilgrims, Naqshbandîs prominent among them, seems to have grown throughout the century, despite the claim made by a Russian ambassador in the mid-1880s that thousands of Central Asian pilgrims suffered from “unconscionable exploitation by all kinds of swindlers” when passing through Istan223 bul. It is certain that far more pilgrims chose to travel via Istanbul than by way of Tehran; this is confirmed precisely by an Iranian grandee, Mîrzâ Husayn Farâhânî, 224 who himself made the hajj via Istanbul in 1886. The register kept by the Özbekler

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Charles Schefer under the title Relation de l’Ambassade au Kharezm (Khiva) de Riza Qouly Khan (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1876)]. Hermann Vambéry, Reise in Mittelasien (Leipzig: F.U. Brockhaus, 1865), pp. 8-9. It is unclear whether the impost in question was an officially mandated tax or simply a customary extortion. The same convenience caused many other pilgrims to travel via Afghanistan to Peshawar, and then take the train to Bombay. See Daniel Brower, “Russian Roads to Mecca: Religious Tolerance and Muslim Pilgrimage in the Russian Empire,” Slavic Review LV:3 (Autumn, 1996), pp. 572-573. Daniel Brower, “Russian Roads to Mecca: Religious Tolerance and Muslim Pilgrimage in the Russian Empire,” p. 573. Mîrzâ Muhammad Husayn Farâhânî, Safarnâma, ed. Hâfiz Farmânfarmâ’îân (Tehran: Intishârât-i Dânishgâh, 1964), p. 203; translated by Hafez Farmayan and Elton J. Daniel as A Shi‘ite Pilgrimage to Mecca, 1885-1886 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1990), p. 189. Farâhânî also remarks that the Ottomans exempted all Russian subjects making the hajj from a tax he calls the khâwa, translated by Farmayan and Daniel as “toll.”

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Tekkesi at Sultantepe lists arrivals from virtually every significant city in Central 225 Asia, and specifies that the great majority of them went on to the Hijaz. Sultan Abdülhamid provided for the repair and restoration of this tekke in 1893, as he had 226 done for its counterpart in Küçük Ayasofya in 1887. It was also during the nineteenth century that the Özbekler Tekkesi at Küçük Ayasofya came to serve as a hub of communication between the Ottomans and the khanates of Khoqand and Bukhara. Effectively, its function was broadened to welcome not only Central Asian Naqshbandîs travelling to and from the Haramayn, but also envoys and other notables hailing from the khanates. Dost Muhammad Bahâdur, a seasoned military commander in the service of the Khan of Khoqand, had already made the pilgrimage once when in 1788 he set out from his homeland with the intention of performing it again. After arriving in Istanbul, he changed his mind, volunteered for a campaign in Ottoman service, and requested that weapons, horses and expeneses be granted him. Seyyid Yahya, incumbent postnişin at the Özbekler Tekkesi, wrote in support of his petition. He verified Dost Muhammad Bahâdur’s identity as “authentically Uzbek” (sahih Özbek) and said it was common knowledge among the Uzbeks that while returning to Central Asia from his first 227 hajj he had managed to fight off 200,000 “Magian unbelievers” (mecus keferesi). It may have been the same Bahâdur, now identified as the vezir of the Khan of Khoqand, who showed up in Istanbul in 1833, this time on his way back from the hajj. On the outward journey, he had made his way through Afghanistan to Bombay, and then proceeded to Jeddah by ship. It seems that he carried diplomatic credentials, for he chose to travel back to Central Asia by way of Istanbul with the express purpose of gaining an audience with Sultan Mahmud II. On behalf of his master, he presented the Sultan with copies of the Maktûbât both of Sirhindî and of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, among other gifts, and received in return a jewel box 228 for himself and another for his son. The pattern continued in 1846 when Khudâyâr Khân of Khoqand sent an envoy to Istanbul complaining of Bukharan encroachment on his territories. The en225 Grace Martin Smith, “The Özbek Tekkes of Istanbul,” p. 132. 226 M. Baha Tanman, “Özbekler Tekkesi (Sultantepe),” p. 123; M. Baha Tanman, “Özbekler Tekkesi (Küçük Ayasofya),” p. 121. The dates given by Grace Martin Smith for the Hamidian restoration of the two tekkes are somewhat different: 1896 for Sultantepe and 1878 for Küçük Ayasofya (“The Özbek Tekkes of Istanbul,” pp. 131, 137). 227 Sawada Minoru, “Four Ottoman Documents concerning an Uzbek of Istanbul in the Late 18th. Century,” Annals of Japan Association for Middle East Studies 3:2 (1988), pp. 198-218. By “Magian unbelievers,” it is presumably Iranian Shi‘a that are intended, unless Dost Muhammad Bahâdur encountered a horde of hostile Hindus somewhere between Bombay and Khoqand. Whatever be the case, the size given for the army Dost Muhammad Bahâdur supposedly routed is, of course, incredible. 228 Ahmed Lütfî, Tarih-i devlet-i aliyye-yi Osmaniye (Istanbul: Dâr ül-Tebâ‘a-yı Âmire, 1290-1330/1873-1912), IV, p. 77.

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voy, Hâjî Rûzî Bek, stayed on for a year after delivering his message and then went on the hajj, with his expenses defrayed by the Ottomans. Once back in Istanbul, he requested permission to return to Khoqand and the means to do so. He was supplied with the necessary funds, as well as what purported to be a strand from the 229 beard of the Prophet for the Khan of Khoqand. It was further determined that he should be accompanied by Hacı Mehmed Efendi, postnişin at the Özbekler Tekkesi, a Bukharan who wished to return home and that he, too, should be provided with funds for the journey. He was to carry a letter from Sultan Abdülmecid to the Khan of Bukhara expressing Ottoman displeasure with the conflict raging between two 230 cognate Muslim states and calling on them to behave in more brotherly fashion. In 1867, exactly twenty years later, it was Amîr Muzaffar al-Dîn of Bukhara who sent an emissary to Istanbul in the hope, however slight, of enlisting Ottoman aid against the steady advance of the Russians; they had occupied Tashkent the year before and were threatening the city of Bukhara itself. The envoy was Muhammad Pârsâ Efendi, the mufti of Bukhara; his name, identical with that of one of Bahâ’ al-Dîn’s principal successors, suggests that he also had a Naqshbandî affiliation. He delivered his sovereign’s message, and then, benefiting from the precedent set by his Khoqandî counterpart two decades earlier, he left Istanbul to go on the hajj with funds provided by the Ottoman authorities. Returning from the Hijaz, he requested that Süleyman Efendi, postnişin at the Özbekler Tekkesi, be appointed Ottoman envoy to Bukhara and accompany him on his homeward journey. Muhammad Pârsâ’s request was granted, and the two of them set out for Central Asia in the spring of 1869. Süleyman Efendi returned to Istanbul two years later, accompanied by another Bukharan envoy, Hayy Efendi by name, and presented to 231 the Bâb-ı Âlî the report on Central Asian affairs they drew up together. 229 The bestowal of these folicular gifts features freqently in Ottoman dealings with Central Asian shaykhs and potentates. See Galip Çağ, “Osmanlı Devleti ve Orta Asya Hanlıkları Arasında Diplomatik Faaliyetlerde Bulunan Elçiler ve Karşılıklı Verilen Hediyeler,” Erzurum Kültür ve Eğitim Vakfı Akademi Dergisi, XII:35 (Spring 2008), p. 136. A stock of hairs reputedly from the head of the Prophet (mû-yi mubârak) and strands from his beard (sakal-ı şerif or lihye-i şerife) came into the possession of the Ottomans when they took Egypt from the Mamluks in 1517. No fewer than 1818 such relics are still preserved in Turkey, 422 in Istanbul alone, and others exist elsewhere in the world. See Nebi Bozkurt, “Sakal-ı Şerif,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, XXXVI, pp. 2-3. On the various locations in Central Asia where hairs are preserved, see Nodirbek Abdulahatov and Uktamjon Ishonboboev, Kuhna Marghilon Ziyaratgohlari (Farghona: Farghona Nashriyoti, 2007), pp. 52-82. 230 Mehmet Saray, Rus İşgalı Devrinde Osmanlı Devleti ile Türkistan Hanlıkları Arasındaki Siyasi Münasebetler (1775-1875) (Istanbul: Istanbul Matbaası, 1984), pp. 5052, 54-55. 231 Mehmet Saray, Rus İşgalı Devrinde Devrinde Osmanlı Devleti ile Türkistan Hanlıkları Arasındaki Siyasi Münasebetler (1775-1875), pp. 84-88. On Muhammad Pârsâ, see further Özcan Mert, “Buhara Emirliği Elçisi Muhammed Parsa Efendi’nin Istanbul’daki

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Dervish, Envoy, Lexicographer, Informant: the Several Personae of Süleyman Efendi For Süleyman Efendi this assignment represented a reversal of roles. Born in Bukhara in 1820, he had first left his homeland to go on the hajj in 1844. Whether his route to the Hijaz had passed through Istanbul is unclear; it was there, however, that he settled on his return, probably in 1847, and began to exercize two apparently interrelated functions: Bukharan envoy to the Ottoman court and postnişin at 232 the Özbekler Tekkesi in Küçük Ayasofya. Fully integrating himself into the Ottoman environment but maintaining his links with Central Asia, Süleyman Efendi became an important figure in assuring liaison between his twin foci of loyalty, for it appears that he travelled more than once on official Ottoman business. In 1881, he published in Istanbul a Chaghatay-Ottoman lexicon with the declared purpose of acquainting the Ottomans with what he erroneously termed the 233 ancestor of their idiom. He prefaced his work with a versified account in Chaghatay of the extensive travels he undertook on behalf of the Ottoman state in Central Asia and elsewhere. They were commissioned, he affirms, by Sultan Abdülhamid who bestowed on him many favours (meni köp yere memur etti / köp 234 köp ikram ile mesrur etti). It is known, however, that Süleyman Efendi set out for Bukhara roughly seven years before the beginning of Sultan Abdülhamid’s reign, and that Abdülaziz was still on the Ottoman throne when he returned to 235 Istanbul. Süleyman Efendi’s account of his travels should be therefore be read as the summary enumeration of places visited on an indeterminate number of separate journeys, all having in common service to the Ottoman state. He provides only two chronological clues: the audiences granted him in Kabul by Shîr ‘Alî Khân, who

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Diplomatik Faaliyetleri,” Türk Kültür Araştırmaları XV (1976), pp. 93-107. Galip Çağ claims that the name of the postnişin in question was Selim Efendi, not Süleyman, and that Mehmet Saray, among others, failed to transcribe it correctly (“Osmanlı Devleti ve Orta Asya Hanlıkları,” p. 133). There is no evidence to support this assertion, and much to refute it. Azmi Özcan suggests that the former appointment came before the latter (“Özbekler Tekkesi Postnişini Buharalı Şeyh Süleyman Efendi Bir “Double Agent” mi İdi?”[Tarih ve Toplum XVII:100 (April 1992), p. 13]). If this be the case, it can perhaps be concluded that diplomatic considerations were involved in selecting the postnişin of the Özbekler Tekkesi. See also Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” pp. 150-152. Şeyh Süleyman Efendi, Lugat-ı Çağatay ve Türkî-yi Osmanî (Istanbul: Mehran Matbaası, 1298/1881). Another of his essays in cultural rapprochement between the Ottomans and the Turks of Central Asia was his Ottoman rendering of the poems commonly but questionably attributed to Ahmed Yasawî: Divan-ı Belağat-ünvan-ı Sultan ul-‘Ârifin Hace Ahmed Yesevî (Istanbul, 1299/1883). Şeyh Süleyman Efendi, Lugat-ı Çağatay ve Türkî-yi Osmanî , p. 9. Özcan, “Özbekler Tekkesi Postnişini Buharalı Şeyh Süleyman Efendi Bir “Double Agent” mi İdi?”, p. 13.

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ruled from 1863 to 1879 (with a one-year interruption in 1866); and his dispatch to Budapest in 1877, soon after returning to Istanbul, as Ottoman delegate to the Pan236 Turanian congress. The question of timing remains, then, to be solved. It is, however, certain that at least one of his journeys ultimately took him to the Haramayn, although the circuitous route he chose suggests that performance of the hajj was not his primary concern. He begins the account of his travels with a mention of India, travelling there perhaps by steamship to Egypt and then on to Bombay, for the first city he visited was Sirhind (hem sefaretle siyahat qıldım / Hind ve Sirhind’i ziyaret qıldım). The word ziyaret suggests that his reason for alighting there was to pay his respects at the shrines of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî and his descendants. Then he crossed the Ganges and enjoyed a leisurely tour of Delhi and Agra before travelling on to Lahore, Rawalpindi, and Peshawar. Traversing the Khyber Pass, he came to the citadel of Kabul, and it was there that the strictly diplomatic part of this particular mission began. He was hospitably received by Shîr ‘Alî Khân and spent much time in his company, sitting immediately opposite him as an equal, as befitted an envoy of the Ottoman Sultan (yaxşiliğ birla hem ulfat qıldım / ting turub yanida suhbat qıldım). Shîr ‘Alî Khân bestowed on him robes, horses and gold, and ordered his cousin, Shîrdil Khân (soon to be appointed governor of Balkh) to accompany Süleyman Efendi all the way to Bukhara. The party came first to Bâmiyân where they took note of the Buddhas carved out of the rock before con237 tinuing on to the Bukharan Khanate by way of Aybak, Tashqurghan, and Khulm. At this point, Süleyman Efendi relates that he visited Kabul, Balkh and Herat; it is unclear whether by this he intends the route he followed after accomplishing the mission to Bukhara, or simply some of the cities where he alighted, perhaps more than once, during his years of travel. In any event, from Herat he entered Iran and came to the Türkmen-inhabited city of Kalât (now known as Kabûd Gunbad) 238 before turning back northwards to Khiva and the eastern shores of the Caspian. He spent much time among the Akhal tribe of the Türkmen and in the city of Merv, apparently to gather intelligence, for, he says, “I learned in detail the states of the Türkmen / I made a register of their branches and their numbers” (Türkmening halini bir-bir bildim / cins ve miqdarını daftar qıldım). In the very next line, he veers back to Bukhara, perhaps for a return visit. In the course of several audiences the Amir showered him with money and gold and, more significantly, bestowed on 236 He set out for Hungary supposedly with very great reluctance (bir seyahat yine çıktı başıma/ yalbarıp qoymadılar xahışıma) but was rewarded with the rapturous handkissing welcome he received wherever he alighted beyond the Danube. See Şeyh Süleyman Efendi, Lugat-ı Çağatay ve Türkî-yi Osmanî, p. 10. 237 Şeyh Süleyman Efendi, Lugat-ı Çağatay ve Türkî-yi Osmanî, p. 9. 238 This Kalât is not to be confused with the identically named town in Pakistan that lies roughly 100 miles to the south of Quetta.

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him “a rank and a document” (rutba va yarliğ). With very great reluctance – so claims Süleyman Efendi – the Amir permitted him to leave, and crossing the Oxus he travelled via Kabul back to India. A throughly unenjoyable voyage from Bombay to a Persian Gulf port (presumably Basra) enabled him to visit Baghdad, whence he proceeded to Mecca and Medina, of which two sacred cities he says nothing at all. Then, following the trajectory of many a pilgrim, Central Asian and other, he spent a few days in Cairo before returning euphorically to Istanbul: “I discerned an auspicious and most noble hour; I had the great honour to arrive in Istanbul / There is no land so sacred, no city so holy” (yaxşi bir saat-i aşraf boldim; Istanbul’ğa muşarraf boldim / böyle bir kişvar-i aqdas yoktur; bu gibi şahr-i 239 muqaddas yoktur). That he should describe himself as muşarraf – “honoured” – to be back in Istanbul is remarkable, for the epithet in question is commonly applied to those who have reverentially visited the Haramayn, two places that seem to have functioned for him as little more than waystations, at least on this trip. Still more bizarre is his designation of Istanbul as the holiest place on earth; this may be interpreted either as a hyperbolic expression of relief at being surrounded anew by the pleasures and comforts of the Ottoman capital, or as an overwrought declaration of fealty to Sultan Abdülhamid. That the Bukharan shaykh was sincerely devoted to the Ottoman Sultan, politically and personally, is, however, certain. The attachment appears to have been reciprocal, for in 1887, Abdülhamid ordered a throughgoing restoration of the Özbekler Tekkesi, and it remained Süleyman Efendi’s home and 240 headquarters until his death in 1890. Curious, however, is the fact that from the late 1870s onward, Süleyman Efendi also acted as a trusted informant for Henry Layard, the British ambassador in Istanbul; this circumstance suggests that the Bukharan Naqshbandî devotee of the Ottoman Caliphate may have been a “double 241 agent.” 239 Şeyh Süleyman Efendi, Lugat-ı Çağatay ve Türkî-yi Osmanî, pp. 9-10. 240 Hacı İsmailbeyzade Osman Bey, Mecmûa-i Cevâmi‘ (Istanbul: Karabet Matbaası, 1304/1887), p. 15. He refers to the tekke as Buhara Dergâhı. Additional repairs were carried out in 1900 at the behest of Âstânqul, a Bukharan notable. See M. Baha Tanman, “Özbekler Tekkesi,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, 34: 121. 241 The complexities are, however, numerous. Amir Muzaffar al-Dîn hoped for British as well as Ottoman support against the Russians, and in 1867 he had Muhammad Pârsâ Efendi travel to Calcutta to deliver a message to Sir John Lawrence, the Governor-General of India, before proceeding on to Istanbul (Mehmet Saray, Rus İşgalı Devrinde Osmanlı Devleti ile Türkistan Hanlıkları Arasındaki Siyasi Münasebetler (1775-1875), pp. 77-78; Galip Çağ, “Osmanlı Devleti ve Orta Asya Hanlıkları,” p. 133). Further, the Russo-Ottoman War of 1876 occasioned a temporary alignment of Ottoman with British policy, one result being that Layard had a voice in selecting the members of an Ottoman delegation that was to be sent to Afghanistan the following year. Among the candidates he found objectionable was none other than Süleyman Efendi, whom at this point he thought to be a Russian spy. What occasioned a change of heart in Layard and inspired

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In strong contrast to Süleyman Efendi stands another personality associated with the Özbekler Tekkesi at Sultantepe, the celebrated Edhem Efendi (d. 1904). Born at the tekke in 1829 to Sadık Efendi, its postnişin at the time, he received his religious training from his father and shaykhs visiting from Bukhara, but he was distinguished primarily by a remarkable skill in acquiring all manner of arts and crafts, ancient and modern, thus earning the epithet, “Hezarfen” (master of a thousand arts). He was accordingly sent to the Haramayn where he supervised repairs both to the Ka‘ba and to the Masjid al-Nabawî, establishing thereby a link of the 242 most palpable kind between the tekke and the Haramayn.

The Delhi Khânaqâh and Its Extensions in the Haramayn Despite the attraction that Istanbul continued to exert throughout the nineteenth century, perhaps even on an increasing scale, India retained its significance for many Central Asian Naqshbandîs. For in the first half of the century, Delhi became what Sirhind had been in the time of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm: a point of transit for pilgrims and a centre of initiation into the Mujaddidiyya. On his death in 1781, Mîrzâ Mazhar Jânjânân was succeeded at the Chatli Qabar khânaqâh he had founded in Delhi by the renowned Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî (also known as Shâh ‘Abd Allâh). The institution flourished during his tenure. Aspirants to the path are reported to have flocked there from as far afield as China and Ethiopia, not to mention all areas of India, the Punjab, and Afghanistan, and some Central Asians, too, were 243 among them. They included ‘Abd al-Qayyûm Badakhshî and his son, Muhammad Murâd, both of whom later acquired additional Naqshbandî affiliations, in 244 Mecca and Tashkent. Another Central Asian devotee of Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî in him an unquestioning confidence in Süleyman Efendi’s reports is unclear, but he soon began forwarding to London his somewhat hyperbolic accounts of Ottoman popularity and the strength of Pan-Islamic sentiment in Central Asia. Now it is highly unlikely that in Hamidian Istanbul the movements of an informant in the employ of the British Embassy – one, moreover, enjoying the trust of the Sultan – should have passed unnoticed. It may therefore be hazarded that Süleyman Efendi’s contacts with Layard were not only known to the Sultan, but actively encouraged by him, with the goal of having the British imagine Abdülhamid’s Pan-Islamic appeal and therefore power to be greater than they actually were. It is in this sense that he may legitimately be termed a “double agent.” Arminius Vambéry was assuredly one, for both the British and the Ottomans were aware of his dealings with the other party, and like Süleyman Efendi he, too, attempted to inculcate in the British respect for the Pan-Islamic appeal of the Ottoman Caliphate. Concluding his analysis of these matters, Azmi Özcan suggests, in fact, that the parallels between the “true dervish” – Süleyman Efendi – and the “false dervish” – Arminius Vambéry – may not be coincidental. See Özcan, “Özbekler Tekkesi Postnişini Buharalı Şeyh Süleyman Efendi Bir “Double Agent” mi İdi?” pp. 13-16. 242 M. Uğur Derman, “Edhem Efendi, Hezarfen,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, X, pp. 416-417. 243 Sayyid Ahmad Khân, Âsâr al-Sanâdîd (Karachi: Pakistan Historical Society, 1966), p. 209. 244 Rizaeddin b. Fakhreddin, Âsâr, II (Orenburg: Muhammad Fâtih b. Ghilmân Karimov

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was Mullâ Khudâbirdî Turkistânî (d. 1848); his exact place of origin is not specified in the sources. He completed his training with Shâh Abû Sa‘îd, who succeded Ghulâm ‘Alî at the Delhi khânaqâh on his death in 1824, and is said to have conveyed the tarîqat to many of the mardumân-i Bulghâr (meaning presumably 245 Tatars from Kazan). He performed the hajj at least once, and travelled widely in Central Asia as well as Russia and Ottoman Turkey before ultimately settling in Bukhara. He was an early critic of what reform-minded individuals came to regard 246 as the near-divinisation of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband by the Bukharans. The last person whom Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî initiated into the tarîqat was one Mullâ ‘Abd al-Karîm, a native of Balkh. After a preliminary sojourn in India, he settled in Bukhara before departing on the hajj. Back in Bukhara, he spent some three years at the shrine of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband before a visionary communication from the saint in question impelled him to join the circle of Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî in Delhi. He received his certificate of irshâd in 1820 but, like Mullâ Khudâbirdî Turkistânî, underwent further training at the hands of Shâh Abû Sa‘îd before turning northwards again. With the permission, it is said, of Nasrallâh Khân, the ruler of Bukhara, he settled initially in Shahr-i Sabz, where he acquired thousands of followers and maintained a large kitchen for feeding the poor. However, Nasrallâh Khân had discerned separatist tendencies in the local ruler and, determined to bring the city under his direct control, he declared that only the presence there of Mullâ ‘Abd al-Karîm was staying his hand. Mullâ ‘Abd al-Karîm therefore obliged him by agreeing to relocate to Bukhara and he proclaimed, with that assumption of all-surpassing occult authority so often encountered in the history of the tarîqat, that he had assigned Shahr-i Sabz to Nasrallâh Khân. Once the city was subjugated, Mullâ ‘Abd al-Karîm was given control of the Shâh Akhsî khânaqâh in 247 Bukhara by way of reward. He died some time after 1859. Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî’s line soon branched out to the Hijaz. He appointed as his representative in Mecca an Indian, Muhammad Jan Bâjawrî, who by dint of proMatbaasi: 1905), p. 487. 245 Mawlânâ Nasîm Ahmad Farîdî, Qâfila-yi Ahl-i Dil (Lucknow: al-Furqân Book Depôt, n.d.), p. 236. 246 Rizaeddin b. Fakhreddin, Âsâr, II, p. 539. 247 Baxtiyor Babadžanov, “The Naqšbandīya Muğaddidīya in Central Māwarā’annahr in the Late 18th and Early 19th Centuries,” pp. 403-404. Babadžanov’s summary account of Mullâ ‘Abd al-Karîm omits a number of details presumably to be found in the unpublished manuscript on which he relies; it would be useful to know, for example, whether the persons Mullâ ‘Abd al-Karîm encountered on his first visit to India were Mujaddidî shaykhs. Pîr-i Dastgîr is not, as Babadžanov surmises, the name of the shaykh from whom Mullâ ‘Abd al-Karîm obtained his initiation in 1236/1820, but simply an honorific, conventionally awarded to prominent shaykhs, in this case to Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî. See also Mufti Nasîm Ahmad Farîdî, “Khulafâ’ al-Shaykh Ghulâm ‘Alî al-Mujaddidî,” Thaqâfat al-Hind, XLII (1991), p. 66. (This author is presumably the same as the one mentioned in footnote 236; only the titles are different).

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longed residence in the holy city became known not only as “al-Makki” but also as shaykh al-haram. Soon after arriving in the Hijaz, he made a brief but fruitful trip to Istanbul, where he won the favour of many in the Ottoman bureaucracy and even the palace that lasted until the end of his life: as one source expressed it, “God 248 Almighty placed loving belief in him in the hearts of the rulers.” Sultan Abdülmecid awarded Muhammad Jân a stipend, and his mother, Âdile Sultan, apparently a full-fledged disciple of the shaykh, enabled him to maintain a hospice in Jeddah as well as his principal establishment in Mecca; when he died in 1852, she sent a chandelier to illumine the dome that for a while covered his tomb. It is not, then, surprising that the great majority of Muhammad Jân’s disciples were Ottoman 249 Turks, from Istanbul and the provinces. Among those who came to represent him in Anatolia was Abdullâh Sermest Efendi, the great-grandson of Tâzebay (or Baytâz) Süleyman Ağa, a migrant from Tashkent who, for some reason, had chosen to settle in Kilis. Sermest was orphaned early in life when his father, Hoca Mehmed Efendi, died unexpectedly on the hajj; this may explain why, at the age of seventeen, he chose to join the army of Ibrahim Paşa, son of Muhammad ‘Ali Paşa, the rebellious governor of Egypt, during its foray into Anatolia. When the Egyptian force withdrew in 1833, Sermest accompanied it and went on to Cairo, where he studied the cognate arts of calligraphy and engraving precious stones. Some years later, he went on the hajj, and immediately on meeting Muhammad Jân, he decided to stay on in Mecca in order to benefit from his instruction; throughout the twelve years of mujâwara that followed, he supported himself by practising the crafts he had acquired in Cairo. Sent back by Muhammad Jân to Kilis in about 1869, he established in the Bölük district of the city the Naqshbandî hospice that became known after him as Baytazoğlu Tekkesi, again drawing on his skill as engraver and the income it assured him to meet all of its needs. He died in 1881, and was succeeded as postnişin by his eldest son, 250 Mehmed Vakıf Efendi (d. 1965). In addition to this khalîfa of Central Asian ancestry, Muhammad Jân Bâjawrî also numbered among his murîds the two Badakhshîs, father and son, mentioned above. After returning from the Hijaz, the father, ‘Abd al-Qayyûm, settled in Tashkent, where he became popularly known as Qarâtâsh Îshân. The son, Muhammad Murâd, gathered a following in Sarash, a village near Perm in Siberia, but despite the instruction he had received in correct Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî practice, in both Delhi and Mecca, the dhikr sessions over which he presided were so 248 ‘Abd al-Majîd al-Khânî, al-Hadâ’iq al-Wardîya (Cairo: al-Matba‘at al-‘Âmira, 1308/ 1890), p. 222. 249 On Muhammad Jân al-Makkî, see further Hocazade Ahmed Hilmi, Evliyalar Bahçesi (Istanbul: Türk Neşriyat Yurdu, 1966), pp. 85-86. 250 İbrahim Hakkı Konyalı, Âbideleri ve Kitâbeleri ile Kilis Tarihi (Istanbul: n.p., 1968), pp. 520-525, 609-616.

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noisy that complaints were made to the official religious administration (Duk251 hovnoe Sobranie). He died in Sarash in 1869. In Delhi itself, Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî was succeeded by Shâh Abû Sa‘îd, a disciple who had come to him relatively late, after spending twelve years with another Mujaddidî shaykh whom he finally concluded was unable to advance him on the path. Despite this tardiness, Ghulâm ‘Alî soon assigned him the supervision of recent initiates, and when he fell ill some fifteen years later, he summoned him from Lucknow where he was then residing to assume direction of the Delhi khânaqâh. “Seekers from all parts of the world” – including presumably Central Asia, although no names are given – are said once again to have descended on this Mujaddidî centre “like locusts.” In 1833, nine years after the death of Ghulâm ‘Alî, Abû Sa‘îd set out on the hajj, leaving his son, Ahmad Sa‘îd, thirty-two years of age at the time, in charge of the Delhi khânaqâh. He stayed in Mecca for three months under the solicitous care of Muhammad Jân before moving on to Medina where despite the onset of illness he brought many of the sâdât and shurafâ’ to the Naqshbandî path. He died on the return journey at Lunk, eleven waystations from Delhi, on ‘Îd al-Fitr in the year 1250 (January 31, 1835), and Ahmad Sa‘îd’s administration of the khânaqâh now became permanent. Again, seekers came to the khânaqâh from many places, far and near, but this fruitful activity came to an abrupt end when the British vandalised the khânaqâh during their vengeful sack of Delhi in 1857. Ahmad Sa‘îd migrated to Medina, where he brought into the tarîqat many thousands of people, both Arab and non-Arab, during the four years that remained 252 of his life. Three sons survived Ahmad Sa‘îd. The eldest, ‘Abd al-Rashîd Sâhib, moved to Mecca, where he lived on for a full three decades, instructing murîds of his father who were resident there and acquiring others of his own; the ethnic composition of his following is unknown. The second, ‘Umar Sâhib, remained in the Haramayn for an indeterminate number of years before returning to India in the hope of reviving the fortunes of the Delhi khânaqâh. It was Ahmad Sa‘îd’s third son, Muhammad Mazhar, who proved most influential in perpetuating his father’s legacy in the Haramayn. Only twenty-nine years of age at the time of Ahmad Sa‘îd’s death, he too was able to expand the throng of murîds he inherited, and in keeping with a predilection for formal learning, he had built near the Bâb al-Baqî‘ in Medina a three-storey madrasa that included a library as well as a hall for the collective performance of dhikr. The attraction that he exerted was, indeed, partially due to the 251 Rizaeddin b. Fakhreddin, Âsâr, II, p. 487. 252 Muhammad Murâd al-Qâzâni (=al-Manzilawî), Dhayl Rashahât ‘Ayn al-Hayât, in the margins of his Arabic translation of the Rashahât (Mecca: al-Matba‘at al-Amîriyya, 1300/1883), pp. 84-114; Ghulâm Sarwar Lâhûrî, Khazînat al-Asfiyâ’ (Lucknow: Nawal Kishore, 1285/1868), I, pp. 709-710.

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comprehensiveness of the training he provided. Among the many initiates he dispatched as khalîfas to their native lands were not only Turks and Indians but also 253 Tatars and Central Asians. One of these was Mullâ Shâh ‘Abd al-Malik Rahmat Allâh Kariev, who returned to his native Tashkent towards the end of Muhammad 254 Mazhar’s life. ‘Abd al-Haqq Efendi, who set out for the Haramayn from Semipalatinsk in Kazakhstan and returned there after completing his training, may have been either a Kazakh or one of the numerous Tatars who at the time were 255 propagating Islamic practice and learning among the Kazakhs. Certainly Tatars from the Volga-Urals region predominate among those whose names are listed in the sources, foremost being, no doubt, Muhammad Murâd Ramzî (known also as alManzilawî and al-Qâzânî), whose progress to Medina via Bukhara we shall soon relate. A similar trajectory was followed by Mawlânâ ‘Abd al-Hannân Efendi of Birjan. After completing his studies in Bukhara, he spent several years with Muhammad Mazhar and other Naqshbandî notables before returning to his home256 land. Muhammad Mazhar died on November 14, 1883, and was commemorated in numerous elegies, including one composed by a certain Âkhûn Jân Bukhârî that declared him “the renewer (mujaddid) of the path of the Mujaddid (i.e., Shaykh 257 Ahmad Sirhindî).” Muhammad Mazhar’s principal successor in the Hijaz was alSayyid Muhammad Sâlih al-Zawâwî, an Arab scholar resident in Mecca who had initially looked upon him with disdain because of the lack of formal religious training he discerned among the Indians in his following. Already in Muhammad Mazhar’s lifetime, al-Zawâwî seems to have concentrated on initiating into the tarîqat members of the “Javanese” community resident in the Hijaz, and he was travelling in bilâd al-Jâwa by way of further propagation of the order when 258 Muhammad Mazhar died. The followers of Muhammad Mazhar in Medina turned therefore to another khalîfa, ‘Abd al-Hamîd Dâghistânî, but regarding himself as unworthy of the leadership, Daghistânî wrote to al-Zawâwî and prevailed on him to return and assume responsibility for the zâwiya in Medina. With some reluctance, he consented – which was fortunate, for Dâghistânî died soon after al-

253 Muhammad Murâd al-Qâzâni (=al-Manzilawî), Dhayl Rashahât ‘Ayn al-Hayât, pp. 114131. On pilgrims from Volga-Ural region, see Norihiro Naganawa’s contribution. 254 N. Lykochin, “Les Ichâns de Tachkent,” Revue du Monde Musulman XIII:1 (January 1911), p. 139. 255 Muhammad Murâd al-Qâzâni (=al-Manzilawî), Dhayl Rashahât ‘Ayn al-Hayât, p. 188. 256 Muhammad Murâd al-Qâzâni (=al-Manzilawî), Dhayl Rashahât ‘Ayn al-Hayât, p. 187. 257 Muhammad Murâd al-Qâzânî (=al-Manzilawî), Dhayl Rashahât ‘Ayn al-Hayât, p. 125. 258 “Jâwa,” it should be noted, was a designation generically applied to all Malay-speaking Muslims that made their way to the Hijaz, not simply the Javanese.

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Zawâwî arrived back in the Hijaz. There is no indication that after his return al-Za259 wâwî attracted any followers from Central Asia. He died in 1890. The intensive activity deployed in the Haramayn by these appointees and successors of Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî may well have surpassed that of all other tarîqats during the years in question, even the most influential among them. This is not necessarily reflected, however, in the number of tekkes they administered. In a throughly incompetent work on Sufi orders at the Haramayn written in the late ninteenth century, a French author declared that the tarîqat had little appeal for the Arab population of the region; that it had only two zâwiyas/tekkes in Mecca, one in Jeddah, and none in Medina; and that therefore it had “only a secondary position in 260 the Hijaz.” Drawing on this same source as well as two Ottoman archival documents dated 1854 and 1877 respectively, a later scholar repeats the total of three zâwiyas for the Naqshbandiyya, while attributing twenty such institutions to the 261 Khalwatiyya and fourteen to the Baiyumiyya-Ahmadiyya. It is inconceivable that either of these two, particularly the second, should have played a more prominent role in the Haramayn than the Naqshbandiyya. The statistics plainly need revision, for they do not take into account the various tekkes mentioned by Abdülaziz Devletshin, a Tatar officer sent to the Hijaz by Russia to gather intelligence, and – perhaps more importantly – the significance of the zâwiya/tekke in the Meccan and Medinan context needs to be clearly understood. Although typically administered by Sufi shaykhs, Naqshbandî and other, the institution served primarily to shelter pilgrims. The actual work of propagating the Naqshbandî tarîqat, often in conjunction with the teaching of the religious sciences, was generally undertaken in mosques, madrasas, and the dwellings of the shaykhs. As for the relative lack of appeal of the tarîqat for the Arabs of the Hijaz, this cannot count as an indicator of its significance, for in the second half of the nineteenth century, the population of Medina and, to a lesser extent, Mecca was composed largely of immigrants and their descendants.

259 ‘Abd Allâh Mirdâd Abû al-Khayr, al-Mukhtasar min Kitâb Nashr al-Nûr wa al-Zahr fî Tarâjim Afâdil Makka (Jiddah: ‘Âlam al-Ma‘rifa, 1406/1986), p. 217. 260 Alfred Le Chatelier, Les Confréries Musulmanes du Hedjaz (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1887), pp. 158-160. 261 William Ochsenwald, Religion, society and the state in Arabia: the Hijaz under Ottoman Control, 1840-1908 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1984), p. 43. It will be apparent from the foregoing that Ochsenwald is in error when he writes that the Naqshbandîs of the Haramayn “were organised into two separate Indian and Turkish groups” (p. 44). A third Ottoman source, the annual survey of the province of Hijaz for the year 1886, registers only one zâwiya for the entirety of Mecca: that of Tâj al-Dîn on the western slopes of Jabal Hindî; there was plainly no official interest in recording all the zâwiyas functioning in the city. See Mekke, Medine, Cidde, Hicaz Vilâyet Sâlnamesi (H. 1303-M. 1886), reprint (Istanbul: Çamlıca Yayınları, 2008).

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Hajj as Preparation for Rebellion and Resistance Whichever route to Mecca their Muslim subjects chose, and whatever accommodations or facilities awaited them there, the Russian authorities were sorely troubled by the phenomenon of the hajj itself, occasionally to the point of hysteria. Part of the reason was the real danger of cholera to which pilgrims were exposed and the fear of their spreading infection in Russia itself while travelling back home. But concern for public hygiene often masked a desire to reduce to an absolute minimum 262 the number of Russian subjects performing the hajj. Officials saw in the hajj a vast, clandestine gathering annually convened to plot rebellion and mischief. Their conviction was strong, indeed, that every uprising in their territories, as well as in other Muslim lands under European occupation, resulted from orders given in 263 Mecca, a thesis adumbrated at some length in a book published in Kazan in 1877. Istanbul was also viewed as a source of danger, for all manner of subversive directives were thought to flow south to the Hijaz from the Ottoman capital. Thus while recommending provisional measures for regulating the flow of hujjâj and denouncing the hajj as “an academy of blind fanaticism,” a certain F. B. Cherevanskii advocated, as an admittedly unattainable ideal, a ban on travel to Istanbul by Muslim subjects of Russia in order to protect them from the virus of Pan-Islam supposedly 264 raging in the Ottoman capital. The pan-imperial fear was, of course, that gathered together for the hajj, Muslims ruled by Russia, Britain, France and Holland, free of European surveillance, would compare and compound their grievances as a prelude to joint action, with Ottoman encouragement. At the outset of his reign, Sultan Abdülhamid had, after, all authorised the distribution in Mecca, in synoptic form, of a treatise that exalted the virtues of Jihad and included as a sup262 On this subject, see too William R. Roff, “Sanitation and Security: The Imperial Powers and the Nineteenth Century Hajj,” Arabian Studies, VI (1982), pp. 143-160. In somewhat similar vein, the Chinese government claims that its attempts to restrict performance of the hajj by Uyghurs spring from a wish to protect them from the fatal tramplings that sometimes occur during the pilgrimage rites. See Edward Wong, “Wary of Islam, China Tightens a Vise of Rules,” New York Times, October 19, 2008. 263 M. Miropiev, Religioznoe i politicheskoe znachenie khadzha, ili sviashchennogo puteshestviia mukhammedan v Mekky, dlia soversheniia religioznogo prazdnestva, cited by Efim Rezvan, “al-Khadzhzh iz Rossii,” in Islam na territorii byvshei Rossiiskoi imperii: ‘entsiklopedicheskii slovar’, I, pp. 96-99. These imperial anxieties were not new. An unintended consequence of the founding of Odessa in 1796 had been an increase in hajj traffic via Istanbul on the part of Bashkirs and Tatars; this was viewed as an intrinsically troubling development. It did not escape notice that resistance to a law promulgated in 1827 that compelled Muslims to wait for three days before interring their dead – a contravention of the sharî‘a – was led by a Bashkir recently returned from the hajj. See Robert D. Crews, For Prophet and Tsar: Islam and Empire in Russia and Central Asia (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 2006), p. 71. 264 Central State Historical Archives, St. Petersburg, fond 1298, inventory 1, ff. 5-11; Arabic translation as supplement to Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, pp. 311-316.

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plement a call to all Muslims living under Russian rule to revolt against their mas265 ters. The Russian fear of insurrection as a sequel to pilgrimage was not entirely irrational, for in 1898 Dûkchî Îshân, a Naqshbandî shaykh who had returned from the Hijaz three years earlier, had indeed launched an uprising in Andijan.

The Andijan Uprising Born near Andijan in 1856-57, Muhammad ‘Alî inherited from his father, a certain Muhammad Sâbir, the profession of spindle maker (dûkchî); hence the designation 266 of Dûkchî Îshân by which he was primarily known. He was also called “Dîwâna”, a sobriquet he acquired at the age of twenty-four, when his conduct caused some to imagine that he had lost his mind; he accepted it proudly, as a title of honour. His religious endeavours began conventionally enough, with studies at a Bukharan madrasa. Then, at the precociously early age of seventeen (or even, it is said, fifteen), he joined the following of Sultân Khân Tûra, a Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî shaykh based in Andijan. Dûkchî Îshân succeeded this master when he died in 1882, in the face of opposition from Sultân Khân’s family, intent as they were on maintaining hereditary transmission of the silsila together with the benefits it conveyed. Despite this enmity, he was accepted as legitimate successor by the majority of Sultân Khân’s murîds, and with their help he established an impressive settlement at Mingtipa, some thirty-five kilometers to the southeast of Andijan. The complex of buildings comprising it included not only a khânaqâh and a residence for Dûkchî Îshân, but also a guesthouse, a maktab for children of the poor, a madrasa, a mosque complete with minaret, stables, and a kitchen that fed several hundred people a day. Despite these tokens of success, Dûkchî Îshân apparently doubted his worthiness for the tasks of irshâd until, one day, he dreamed of the 265 Azmi Özcan, Pan-Islamizm: Osmanlı Devleti, Hindistan Müslümanları ve İngiltere (1877-1914) (Istanbul: TDV İslam Araştırmaları Merkezi, 1992), p. 110, n. 67. Even allowing for the orthographical peculiarities resulting from the Turkicised pronunciation of Arabic names, it is difficult to be sure who was the author of the original treatise and what was its title: Ibrâhîm b. Nuhâs, Mashâ‘ir al-Aswâq, does not somehow ring true. In the English translation of his book, Özcan refers to the author and his treatise as “M.A. Ibn Ibrahim Ibn Nuhas, Masharu’l-Ishwaq ila Massarii al-Ishaq”, a still more garbled version of what the names may have been (Özcan, Pan-Islamism: Indian Muslims, the Ottomans and Britain, 1877-1924 [Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1997], p. 75, n. 53). 266 On the life of Dûkchî Îshân, see Fozilbek Otabekughli, Dukchi Eshon vokeasi (Tashkent: Chulpon, 1992); Baxtiyar M. Babadžanov, “Dūkčī Īšān und der Aufstand von Andižan 1898,” in von Kügelgen, Michael Kemper and Allen J. Frank, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Centuries: Vol. 2: Inter-Regional and Inter-Ethnic Relations, pp. 167-191; and Manāḳib-i Dūkchī Īshān: anonim zhitiia Dūkchī Īshāna – predvoditelia Andizhanskogo vosstaniia 1898 goda, Turki text edited and translated into Russian by Bakhtiyar Babadžanov, with prefatory notes by Anke von Kügelgen (Tashkent, Berne and Almaty: Institut Vostokovedeniia im. AlBiruni et al., 2004).

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Prophet and the four Rightly Guided Caliphs of Sunni belief garbing him in the coat and conical felt hat that counted locally as the insignia of shaykhhood. Even this, however, did not suffice to quell his unease, so he set out on ziyârat to the shrine of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband. Several favors were vouchsafed to him there, most significantly a vision in which the saint told him: “the ignorant have destroyed our manner of sulûk; you must propagate the silent dhikr.” From Qasr-i ‘Ârifân he went on to Dahbîd for a period of forty-day retreat at the shrine of Ahmad-i Kâsânî Makhdûm-i A‘zam, from whose spirit he similarly received many 267 blessings. Returning to Mingtipa, he was surrounded by an enthusiastic throng of admiring murîds and found it necessary to warn himself against pride in having attracted so large and devoted a following. As a corrective measure, he decided to set out for Medina and the presence of the Prophet. The meagre provisions Dûkchî Îshân took with him on the journey are reminiscent of the rules laid down by Suhrawardî and his Kubrawî successors. He equipped himself only with a small quantity of ground wheat (talqân), a water jug, and three balls of clay for istibrâ’, and then he walked – so he tells us – all the way to Bombay; no mention is made of the route that he took or the places where he might have paused for ziyârat. Once he arrived in Bombay, the balls of clay were no longer usable, and he heard a voice warning him as he slept against arriving in Medina in a state of impurity. He therefore bought two tangas’ worth of clay, fashioned of it three more balls, and embarked for Jeddah. Thence he went first to Mecca, staying there for about a month, and then to Medina, where he spent three 268 whole months at the Masjid al-Nabawî. The culmination of this stay came when he was addressed by the Prophet as follows: “My son! I give you permission (ijâzat) to go and command people to the good (amr-i ma‘rûf) and to summon [dawat 269 kïlïng] them [to the correct practice of religion].” Satisfied with this result, 267 Given that Makhdûm-i A‘zam was the first Naqshbandî of note to include vocal dhikr in the regular practices of the order, it is perhaps ironic that Dûkchî Îshân should have visited his shrine immediately after receiving instructions from Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband to revive the silent dhikr. 268 von Kügelgen’s observation that Dûkchî Îshân bypassed Mecca and proceeded straight to Medina is erroneous; her attempt to find meaning in this supposed preference for the latter over the former is therefore misconceived. 269 Manāḳib-i Dūkchī Īshān, text, p. xl; translation, p. 99. von Kügelgen’s interpretation of ijâzat, as used in this context, in its technical Sufi sense – the permission given by a shaykh to one of his followers to act on his behalf or succeed him – is questionable (preface to Manāḳib-i Dūkchī Īshān, p. 18). The structure of the sentence makes it clear that the permission granted Dûkchî Îshân was far more comprehensive – to invite the people at large to the practice of right religion, not simply his own followers to the practice of the Sufi path. The Prophet’s reported address to Dûkchî Îshân is reminiscent of the dream in which Khwâja Ahrâr found himself commanded by the Prophet to carry him up a hill. When he protested that he was too weak for the task, the Prophet assured him: “You are indeed strong enough. You must also bear the burden of propagating and forti-

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Dûkchî Îshân returned to Mecca in time to complete the rituals of the hajj. There, as he prepared to ascend Mount ‘Arafât, he beheld the Prophet once more in a dream, presenting him this time with a golden ladle in the presence of the Rightly 270 Guided Caliphs and proclaiming him khalîfa. Then Dûkchî Îshân returned to Mingtipa. More than this, he does not tell us of his stay in the Haramayn – whether, for example, he mingled and shared grievances with other pilgrims from Russian-ruled territories or had contacts with representatives of Ottoman power. It is then by no means certain that Dûkchî Îshân’s experiences in Mecca and Medina turned his thoughts decisively to rebellion, and a full three years elapsed between his return from the Hijaz and the outbreak of revolt. Nonetheless, the injunction he had received to “command people to the good,” together with its implied corollary, “the forbidding of evil” (al-nahy ‘an al-munkar), clearly imposed on him a duty to act against the sources of evil he perceived in his homeland. These included, as he put it, “ignorant îshâns who had inherited their rank … and styled themselves khalîfa” as well as all those ‘ulamâ and tribal leaders who had signally failed to resist the Russians. “Evil”, it is true, might have been interpreted in an apolitical, purely moral sense, but it was precisely the presence of the Russian conqueror that had led, in his view, to a palpable decline in public morality. In 1895, he therefore began sending letters to tribal elders and other persons of influence in the Ferghana valley calling for armed struggle against the Russians. Some of the initial response was discouraging, but the semi-nomadic Kirghiz asked him to authorize an immediate uprising, to begin with an attack on the Russian settlers who had robbed them of their pasture-lands; by way of pledging him their obedience, they 271 even proclaimed him caliph (khalîfat rasûl Allâh) or, in some cases, the Mahdi. He told them to wait until a broader base of support had been organised, to which end he travelled to Osh in 1898. There, it is said, he received from one ‘Abd alKarîm b. Mîr Sâdiq a golden ring and a green banner sent by Sultan Abdülhamid, 272 together with a document appointing him his khalîfa. Irrespective of the provenfying my sharî‘a” (Mawlânâ Shaykh, Manâqib-i Khwâja Ahrâr, ms. Beyazit Devlet Kütüphanesi, 3624, ff. 30a-30b). 270 Babadžanov, “Dūkčī Īšān und der Aufstand von Andižan 1898,” p. 175. 271 Babadžanov, “Dūkčī Īšān und der Aufstand von Andižan 1898,” p. 182; Fozilbek Otabekughli, Dukchi Eshon vokeasi, p. 7. It is worth noting that news of the emergence of the Sudanese Mahdi aroused interest among some Muslim subjects of Russia, to the extent that they attempted to make a sidetrip to the Sudan after performing the hajj in 1888. Further, a certain Chuvashov is said to have proclaimed himself the Mahdi in Ufa at around the same time. See Efim Ridwân, introduction to Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, p. 13. 272 The document has been dismissed as spurious, largely because it supposedly attributes to Sultan Abdülhamid a Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî lineage that he did not claim and that, in any event, was defectively recounted (Babadžanov, “Dūkčī Īšān und der Aufstand von Andižan 1898,” p. 176, n. 41). A number of points are nonetheless to be noted. First, Abdülhamid did employ several Naqshbandî shaykhs in the implementation of his

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ance or authenticity of these items, the revolt against Russian control broke out soon thereafter, on May 18, a day which may deliberately have been chosen because of its coincidence with ‘Âshûrâ. The Russians were apparently caught by surprise, a warning given by the state 273 forester they had appointed for the region having been dismissed out of hand. A force of 2,000 men, composed in roughly equal proportions of settled Uzbeks and semi-nomadic Kirghiz and commanded by Dûkchî Îshân, as well as 400 of his close followers, attacked the Russian barracks near Andijan, while another assault was launched on governmental buildings in Osh. The ensuing battles were brief. Some twenty-two soldiers were killed, and there were also civilian fatalities, but the overwhelming military superiority of the Russians soon put paid to the uprising. Captured the very next day and put on trial, Dûkchî Îshân complained of the decline in public morals that had followed the Russian conquest; the alienation of waqf properties; the substitution of Russian-imposed taxes for the zakât; and the 274 discouragement of the hajj. Together with five other leaders of the insurrection, he was hanged, and hundreds of his followers were imprisoned or banished to policies, including Şeyh Süleyman Efendi of the Özbekler tekke who travelled on his account to Central Asia (see above, p. 78-80). It is therefore not to be excluded that Dûkchî îshân did have some contact, direct or indirect, with Ottoman emissaries. This is asserted, albeit without documentation, by Ridwân (introduction to Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, p. 7), and regarded as possible by Hisao Komatsu (cited by Babadžanov, “Dūkčī Īšān und der Aufstand von Andižan 1898,” p. 189). Second, the designation khalîfa was applied to Dûkchî Îshân, at various times, in three different senses: as the authorised successor to Sultân Khân Tûra; as a deputy appointed by Sultan Abdülhamid; and as caliph in the most comprehensive sense of the term – leader of the Muslim community to whom obedience is due. It is possible that for at least some of Dûkchî Îshân’s followers the distinctions between these three applications of the term were unclear or even non-existent. Lastly, the brandishing of an Ottoman banner as a sign of Pan-Islamic solidarity was not unique to Dûkchî Îshân: Ismâ‘îl Minangkabâwî, an early propagator of the Naqshbandiyya-Khâlidiyya in South East Asia, brought back such a flag from Mecca after his initiation there into the order. See Werner Kraus, Zwischen Reform und Rebellion: über die Entwicklung des Islams in Minangkabau (Westsumatra) zwischen den beiden Reformbewegungen der Padri (1837) und der Modernisten (1908) (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1984), p. 83. 273 The forester, a German Mennonite, conveyed his anxieties to the district officer of Andijan, but was charged with libel for his pains, for the warning was taken to imply gross negligence on the part of the Russian administration. See Count K.K. Pahlen, Mission to Turkestan, translated by N.J. Couriss (London: Oxford University Press, 1964), p. 53. 274 Pahlen provides what is allegedly a verbatim account of Dûkchî Îshân’s statement at his trial: “I witnessed the gradual deterioration of the people, how they were abandoning the true religion and forsaking the paths traced by the Prophet of God. Fasts were no longer observed, women were living in sin and taking lovers. The holy places were neglected and were crumbling away; the people had somehow to be forcibly brought back to the faith, and the infidels, who were responsible for breeding this spirit of unbelief in the country, evicted” (Mission to Turkestan, p. 58).

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Siberia. Their lands were confiscated and assigned to Russian settlers who proved to be so thoroughly inept as farmers that once the erstwhile rebels returned from Siberia, the settlers were content to rent their lands back to them and live comfort276 ably in nearby towns on the proceeds. Despite this apparently satisfactory outcome, the episode continued for long to inspire fear and mistrust among Russian officials. When visiting Tashkent in 1908 to investigate the administration of Turkestan on behalf of the Russian senate, Count Pahlen noted with unease that an unnamed Sufi shaykh with whom he conversed had visited Istanbul; wore a green turban signifying that he had made the hajj; and – just like Dûkchî Îshân – blamed the decay of morals on the poisonous presence of the kuffâr – all this, despite his 277 fluent knowledge of Russian.

Devletshin and his Mission to Mecca It was, then, surely not coincidental that in the same year as Dûkchî Îshân’s uprising a Tatar officer in the Russian army, Abdülaziz Devletshin, was sent to the Hijaz in order to assess the impact of the hajj on pilgrims from Russia and Russian-ruled territories. The purpose of his mission invites comparison with that of Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje, who had gone to Mecca masquerading as a Muslim in 1885, on behalf of the government of the Netherlands East Indies, with the particular goal of observing the “Jâwa” community. Spy, infiltrator, and sardonic critic of Meccan circumstances though he assuredly was, Hurgronje deserves credit for the informative and detailed account he compiled of the various groups and personalities he en278 countered. Devletshin was, however, no scholar, and the lengthy account he wrote of his journey to and from the Hijaz concentrates primarily on the difficuties 279 and hardships he and his fellow pilgrims confronted.

275 von Kügelgen, preface to Manāḳib-i Dūkchī Īshān, pp. 11-12; Babadžanov, “Dūkčī Īšān und der Aufstand von Andižan 1898,” p. 168. According to Pahlen (Mission to Turkestan, p. 55), Dûkchî Îshân was not executed, but banished to Siberia together with his followers; it is, however, unlikely that such clemency should have been shown to the exterminator of half a Russian garrison. It is remarkable that a movement of such brief duration has generated a fairly large literature. The ideological biases of studies produced during the Soviet period are not worth reviewing, but it may be noted that in more recent analyses – including those made by von Kügelgen and Babadžanov – artificial distinctions are drawn between “economic” and “religious” motives, and, among the latter, motives that were Sufi-inspired and those that were not. Given the comprehensive rôles played by Naqshbandî shaykhs over the centuries, precisely in Central Asia, such attempts at dissection seem misguided. 276 Pahlen, Mission to Turkestan, p. 59. 277 Pahlen, Mission to Turkestan, pp. 57-58. 278 C. Snouck Hurgronje, Mekka in the Latter Part of the 19th Century, trans. By J.H. Monahan (Leiden: Brill, 1931). 279 Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana.

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He began his journey by embarking at Odessa for Istanbul, a city which, far from exciting in him sentiments of pro-Ottoman solidarity, repelled him with its allegedly filthy state. Not for the last time during his journey, he drew an unfavorable comparison with Russia: “No chief of police in a Russian city would tolerate such conditions.” At the best of times, the highest praise Devletshin could manage for “the typical Turk” was that although lethargic, he tended to be pious and ami280 able. From Istanbul, Devletshin boarded a steamer bound for Alexandria by way of Izmir, Piraeus and Crete, and he took advantage of the opportunity to be instructed in the rites of the hajj by a certain Hâjj Amîn, leader of a group of pilgrims from Kashgar who happened to be taking the same ship. He learned from them that many of the pilgrims travelling that year from Central Asia intended to stay in Mecca or Medina at tekkes run by and for their ethnic fellows – Kirghiz, Kazakh, or 281 Kashgharî. Neither on this occasion or later in his travels does Devletshin name those responsible for the administration of tekkes such as these or even their precise locations, and it should not be assumed that they were anything more than hostels for pilgrims; the specifically Sufi connotations of the term tekke do not ne282 cessarily apply. There is, however, the likelihood that at least in certain cases the tekkes did indeed operate with the approval or under the distant supervision of a Central Asian Îshân, one example being the tekke established in Mecca by Kirey 283 Îshân for his fellow Kazakhs. After disembarking in Alexandria, Devletshin took the train to Suez, proceeding thence to Port Said in order to board an Egyptian ship bound for Jeddah. Mecca, he reported, housed nine tekkes, all of them small-scale operations, able to accommodate not more than ten to fifteen people. The six or seven Tatar-administered tekkes he found operating in Medina were similarly diminutive; they functioned under the supervision of a certain Izzeddin Efendi from Sterlitamak, of whom he approvingly reported that he found it unobjectionable for Russian Muslims to fight 284 under the Russian flag against other Muslims. It is highly probable that this 280 Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, p. 67. 281 Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, pp. 59, 206. 282 This is confirmed by Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, who remarks that the institutions in question were for the most part what he calls hacıhaneler; see his İslam Dünyası: Çin ve Hindistan’da İslamiyet (Istanbul: Yeni Asya Yayınları, 1987), II, pp. 392-393. This is a version in Modern Turkish, prepared by Mehmed Paksu, of an Ottoman original unavailable to me: Alem-i İslam ve Japonya’da İntişar-ı İslamiyet (Istanbul, 1328-1331). The two tekkes established by Muhammad ‘Ali Paşa of Egypt, one in Mecca and the other in Medina, likewise had no connection with Sufism; they served as lodgings for the pilgrims during the hajj season and as charitable refuges for impoverished residents of the Haramayn throughout the year. See Ibrâhim Rif‘at Pâshâ, Mir’ât al-Haramayn (Cairo: Dâr al-Kutub al-Misriyya, 1344/1925), II, pp. 312-321. On Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm’s second hajj, see Alexandre Papas’s contribution to the present volume. 283 See below, p. 32-33. 284 Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, pp. 86, 88.

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Izzeddin Efendi belonged to the Naqshbandiyya, given the predominance of that tarîqat in his place of origin. His loyal and exclusive alignment with the imperial power was not, however, shared by another exile, Abdüssettar Efendi. He had migrated to Medina from Astrakhan in 1892 and headed there a relatively large community of thirty-one families; he had succeeded in raising 50,000 roubles to construct a mosque and a madrasa for their needs, and expansion of the complex was underway during Devletshin’s visit. He also collected funds to aid the Ottoman government in its war against Greece, and sought to convince other Tatars to follow him into migration by having distributed a pamphlet in which were collated all 285 the Quranic verses touching on the subject. Other institutions that caught Devletshin’s attention were the Qarâbâsh and the Kazan madrasas in Medina, the latter 286 with accommodation for forty students, both run by Tatars. There is not a word in Devletshin’s entire account of Sufis from Russia or Central Asia, in part, perhaps, because of an aversion on his part to the enthusiasm generated by Sufi ritual: he thus recounts having fled from a session of Rifâ‘î dhikr 287 in Medina because of the din. As for the revolt of Dûkchî Îshân that had prompted his mission, it is mentioned only once. When passing through Cairo in December 1898 on his return journey, Devletshin encountered some influential Meccans on their way home from Istanbul. Informed by him of what had transpired in Andijan, they unanimously and confidently asserted that it must have been the result of 288 a British plot. The tone he adopts throughout his narrative is indeed consistently “patriotic” in the sense that it tends to allay Russian anxieties. Far from congregating in a single, transnational mass, he reports, the pilgrims tend to remain apart from each other, even Tatars and Kirghiz – both subject to Russian rule – failing to 289 communicate. Moreover, whatever illusions of the splendours of Turkey and of the Ottoman sultan as the caliph of all Muslims they may once have cherished, are rudely dissolved once they encounter the realities of the hajj and the way thither, 285 286 287 288

Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, pp. 96, 165. Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, pp. 90, 170-171 Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, p. 88. Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, p. 229. It seems that representatives or loyal subjects of the imperial powers were in general easily convinced that the Muslims they encountered viewed their governments with favour and rival powers with disfavour. See, for another example, Arthur John Byng Wavell, A Modern Pilgrim in Mecca and a Siege in Sanaa (London: Constable, 1912), p. 195. 289 Devletshin, al-Hajj qabla mi’at sana, pp. 227-228. Devletshin was not the last pilgrim to remark on the relative lack of mingling among hujjâj from different parts of the Muslim world. Malcolm X noted what he called “a color pattern in the huge crowds,” but observed that this did not derogate from the overwhelming sense of brotherhood and unity (Autobiography [New York: Balantine Books, 1973], p. 344). The present writer similarly recalls from his own performance of the hajj in 1389/1970 that during tawâf some pilgrim guides carried aloft various national flags to prevent those entrusted to them from becoming lost in the throng.

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with the result that they end up propagating the glories of Russian rule among the other pilgrims. Such statements may, of course, have been intended by Devletshin to serve his fellow Muslims by allaying Russian fears of the subversive effect of the hajj.

Kirey Îshân If Devletshin had shown greater interest in the topic of Sufi activity, he would have discovered that more than a few Muslim subjects of Russia were significantly involved with the Naqshbandiyya at the Haramayn, and that some had Ottoman links, direct or indirect. A case in point, evidently unknown to him, was that of a Kazakh shaykh by the name of Muhammad Mansûr Îshân, better known as Kirey Îshân. Born to a father from Khoqand who in 1824 came to settle among the Kirey tribe at the headwaters of the Irtysh, he studied for a while in Bukhara where he became affiliated to a shaykh. On his return he became so noted for piety that the entire tribe became his murîds; his original name was forgotten and he became known simply as Kirey Îshân. He married and lived in an encampment surrounded by so many murîds that it was as if they formed a clan of their own. In 1880, at the age of seventy five, he went on the hajj, travelling via Tashkent. Five years later, he left again to perform the hajj and passed through Istanbul where he was received by Sultan Abdülhamid. He acquired a tekke in Mecca and provided for the needs of the fuqarâ’ dwelling in it. In 1897 – one year before Devletshin’s arrival in the Hijaz – he performed the hajj for a third time, renovated the tekke and entrusted its direction to a Tashkendi before his departure. It can be presumed that the distinctive rituals of the Naqshbandiyya were observed at this tekke, but unlike the contemporaneous Naqshbandî foundations in the Haramayn that were administered by Indian and Turkish shaykhs, there is no indication that it sought to propagate the tarîqat, serving rather as a hostel for pilgrims of an ethnically 290 defined constituency. While passing through Istanbul for the third time, Kirey Îshân met again with the Sultan, who presented him with a medal, the Nişan-ı Âli, and a large number of Qurans and books. In addition, he was promised a strand of 291 the Prophet’s beard, which later some of his sons came to Istanbul to collect. 290 The concept of a closed community in this, the most universal of Islamic sites, is at first sight a peculiar one, although not entirely unique; the Sultan of Pontianak – also, it happens, a Naqshbandî initiate – established a hostel for his subjects in Mecca. See Hawash Abdullah, Perkembangan Ilmu Tasawuf dan Tokok-Tokohnya di Nusantara (Surabaya: al-Ikhlas, 1980), p. 174. 291 The distribution of folicular relics as an instrument of Ottoman policy in the late nineteenth century was not restricted to Central Asia. In 1892, purported strands of the beard were ceremoniously installed by the Ottoman authorities at the shrines of the great jurists Abû Hanîfa and Abû Yûsuf in Baghdad and, not long after, at Kâzimayn, where a hollow was fashioned at the top of one of the main gates to house the sacred relic. The choice of the first two locations was plainly designed to gratify Sunni senti-

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Once it arrived, he proposed to the Kirey that he move to a city and there establish a madrasa to house the relic. When they demurred, he moved to Chinese territory but a delegation of the tribe persuaded him to return with the promise that they would build him a mosque and madrasa at his winter encampment in the Altay mountains. He died in 1902, just short of a hundred years old. He was majdhûb, alternately weeping and smiling. For seventy years he had acted as a guide to all the 292 Kazakhs and was known among them as Ata as well as Îshân.

Two Tatars, one from Kazan and the other from Siberia Given Devletshin’s own Tatar origins, it is particularly remarkable that he registers no awareness of the presence in Mecca of Muhammad Murâd Ramzî, one of the 293 most prominent Tatar Sufis, scholars and historians of the nineteenth century. For Ramzî’s extensive and prolonged travels serve at once to exemplify the traditional journey in search of knowledge (al-rihla fî talab al-‘ilm); to illustrate the interconnectedness, at the time, of what we may call the Naqshbandî world; and to demonstrate the function of the Haramayn in the nineteenth century as the hub of that world, a great centre of spiritual and scholarly exchange. Also known as alQâzânî and al-Manzilâwî, Muhammad Murâd was born in 1854 in the village of Elmet near Minzele (Menzilinsk) in the governorate of Ufa. He began the study of the Quran with a maternal uncle when he was six years of age, embarking on Arabic grammar three years later. In 1873, he moved on to Kazan, where he studied at the celebrated Marjânî madrasa before proceeding to Troitsk for two years of instruction in various subjects of the traditional curriculum. Then, in accordance with longstanding precedent, he left for Bukhara, hoping to benefit there from a higher level of learning than prevailed in his homeland. After stopping in Tashkent for two months, he reached Bukhara in 1876, but was soon disappointed and reached the conclusion that Bukhara “was no longer the source of perfection that it had once been.” So he returned to Tashkent, where he spent two years both studying ment, and that of the third, to gain Shi‘ite approval. ‘Alîqulî, the Iranian chargé d’affaires, opined, however, that “given the fanatical hostility between the two sects, these conciliatory measures will be of no use.” See his report dated Dhû al-Hijja 4, 1309/July 1, 1892, in Guzîda-yi Asnâd-i Siyâsî-yi Îrân wa ‘Usmânî: Dawra-yi Qâjârîya (Tehran: Daftar-i Mutâla‘ât-i Siyâsî va Bayn al-Milalî, 1370/1991), III, pp. 561-563. 292 Qurbān-‘Alī Khālidī, An Islamic Biographical Dictionary of the Eastern Kazakh Steppe, 1770-1912, edited and translated by Allen J. Frank and Mirkasym A. Usmanov (Leiden: Brill, 2005), text, pp. 155-156; translation, pp. 79-80. The location of the tekke is erroneously given in the translation as Medina. 293 On the life of Muhammad Murâd Ramzî, see Ahmet Temir, “Doğumunun 130. ve ölümünün 50 yılı dolayısıyla Kazanlı tarihçi Murad Remzi (1854-1934),” Türk Tarih Kurumu Belleten L (1986), pp. 495-505; and the anonymous Tarjumat Ahwâl al-Mu‘arrib ‘alâ Sabîl al-Ijmâl appended to Ramzî’s superb Arabic translation of Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindî’s Maktûbât (Mecca: al-Matba‘at al-Amîrîya, 1317/1899), III, pp. 188-192. (Ramzî’s name is given on the title page as Muhammad Murâd al-Manzilawî).

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and teaching at a khânaqâh administered by a certain unnamed shaykh. It was apparently there that his active interest in Sufism was aroused. He began reading numerous Sufi texts in Arabic and Persian and, in conformity with the pattern discernible in many a Sufi biography, “he became certain that what he had imagined to be perfection was pure deficiency and a waste of time.” He beheld the Prophet in a dream, and soon thereafter was initiated into the tarîqat by a shaykh whose name has not been recorded. He briefly considered returning to Bukhara, but in 1878, a group of fellow Tatars resident in Tashkent persuaded him to join them on a 295 hajj caravan about to leave for the Hijaz. The caravan followed a variant of what seems to have been the standard route for the time: first to Samarkand, then by way of Qarshi and Mazâr-i Sharîf to Kabul; thence by raft to Jalalabad; and then on to Peshawar and via rail to Bombay, by way of Lahore. The collapse of a bridge at Amritsar obliged the party to return to Lahore, from where they continued on to Bombay via Multan, Hyderabad, and Karachi. They spent Ramadan in this interim destination and embarked on an eighteen-day voyage to Jeddah soon after ‘Îd al-Fitr, finally reaching the Hijaz eighteen days later. Ramzî stayed in Mecca with his friends long enough to perform the hajj, after which he set out for Medina to engage in further study at a succession of different institutions: the Amîn Âghâ, Shifâ’, and – most prestigious of all – Mahmûdiyya madrasas. But more important than this further reinforcement of formal learning was his entry into the circle of the Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî shaykh, Muhammad Mazhar; this seems to have superseded the initiation he had earlier ac296 quired in Tashkent. It was in this circle that a Siberian Tatar made the acquaintance of Muhammad Murâd Ramzî. This was Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, the tireless traveller, writer and propagator of Pan-Islam; born at Tara in 1857, he died in Tokyo in 1944. In 1879, thanks to the generosity of a rich villager, he set out for the Hijaz, motivated by the same desire to acquire advanced religious learning that had animated Muhammad Murâd Ramzî. He chose, however, a different route to the Haramayn. Travelling by way of Odessa to Istanbul, he soon found his funds exhausted, and appeals for aid to various Tatars sojourning in the Ottoman capital on their way to the hajj went unanswered. It was therefore as the servant of a wealthy Tatar merchant that he 297 was able to complete his journey, apparently by the maritime route. After a few days in Mecca, he proceeded to Medina, studying there for roughly four years, 294 The actual word used is not khânaqâh but ribât, presumably by way of concession to Arabic usage. 295 Anonymous, Tarjumat Ahwâl al-Mu‘arrib ‘alâ Sabîl al-Ijmâl, pp. 188-189. 296 Anonymous, Tarjumat Ahwâl al-Mu‘arrib ‘alâ Sabîl al-Ijmâl, p. 189. 297 İsmail Türkoğlu, Sibiryalı Meşhur Seyyah Abdürreşid İbrahim (Ankara: Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı, 1997), pp. 11-12.

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primarily under the auspices of Muhammad Mazhar whose murîd he became. Sufism does not seem, however, to have been an important component of Abdurreşîd’s intellectual or religious persona, in strong contrast to Muhammad Murâd Ramzî; it was primarily the scholarly dimension of Muhammad Mazhar’s instruction that appealed to him. Soon after Muhammad Mazhar’s death, Abdurreşîd travelled back to Tara, only to return the following year in order to escort Siberian Tatars intent on studying, as he had, in Medina. As for Muhammad Murâd Ramzî, he unhesitatingly transferred his loyalties to Muhammad Mazhar’s successor, Muhammad Sâlih al-Zawâwî, who appointed him 299 his representative in Mecca, jointly with an unnamed “Jâwî.” Despite his modest and retiring nature (or perhaps because of it) Muhammad Murâd Ramzî’s devotees – both Tatars and “Javanese” – bought him a zâwiya in Mecca for a thousand gold Osmânîs. It was there that Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm met him anew, in 1910, towards the end of a two-year journey that had taken him to Siberia, Mongolia, Manchuria, Japan, Korea, China and India. A gathering was held at the zâwiya attended not only by al-Zawâwî, who had come from Medina for the occasion, but also by Jâwîs, Turks, Bukharans, Indians, Chinese, a representative of the İttihad ve Terakki sent from Salonica, and a Shi‘i scholar from Tabriz. Speeches were given in a variety of languages, and Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm expressed the fond hope that the meeting would result in a permanent “Assembly of Islamic Union” (İttihad-ı İslam Me300 clisi). The First World War was but four years away, and the hope for some effective form of Islamic unity under Ottoman auspices was never realised. Both Tatars were to end their days far away from the spiritual centre of Islam. Muhammad Murâd Ramzî left Mecca in the spring of 1914 for a visit to Kazan, followed by a journey to Tashkent, Bukhara, Khoqand, Namangan and Andijan. His intention was ultimately to return via Istanbul to the Hijaz, but the outbreak of the First World War prevented him from proceeding beyond Odessa. In 1919, after enduring much misery in a variety of locations during the Russian civil war, he managed to make his way to Çögeçek in Eastern Turkestan, and it was there that he 301 died in 1934, at the age of eighty. Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm continued to travel indefatigably in Europe, Asia, and the Middle East, and he was able to make return visits to Mecca in 1930 and 1933. After the second of these visits, he settled perman302 ently in Tokyo, dying there a decade later.

298 For the text of the ijâzat he received from Muhammad Mazhar, see Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, Tercüme-i Halim ya ki Başıma Gelenler (Petersburg: n.p., n.d.), p. 120. 299 Anonymous, Tarjumat Ahwâl al-Mu‘arrib ‘alâ Sabîl al-Ijmâl, p. 192. 300 Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, Islâm Dünyası, Çin ve Hindistan’da Islamiyet, II, pp. 394-395. 301 Ahmet Temir, “Doğumunun 130. ve ölümünün 50. yılı dolayısıyla Kazanlı tarihçi Murad Remzi (1854-1934),” p. 504. 302 Ismail Türkoğlu, Sibiryalı Meşhur Seyyah Abdürreşid Ibrahim, pp. 93-102.

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The Twentieth Century: A Hundred Years of Disruption Steamships and Railways The twentieth century swiftly proved disastrous for the patterns of travel and interchange we have traced. This was not immediately apparent, for the rise in European steamship traffic across the Indian Ocean that had begun in the nineteenth century led to a sustained increase in hajj traffic from India and South East Asia. The insecurity created first by the Portuguese pirates and then by sundry freebooters – French, British, and other – was finally at an end thanks to the consolidation of the Raj, so that pilgrims could embark at Bombay fairly confident that they 303 would reach their goal. They were safe from attack, and the steamships on which they embarked were more or less impervious to the vagaries of the monsoons. For Central Asians, the Indian route had still another advantage: the frontiers separating their homeland from Afghanistan were fairly porous and could be crossed with 304 minimal documentation, defying Russian attempts at regulation and restriction. The first decade of the twentieth century witnessed the completion of a number of railway projects that also tended to facilitate performance of the hajj. As early as 1874, it had been proposed to construct a line from Tashkent to Orenburg, primarily to subvert the flourishing economic ties the Bukharan khanate enjoyed 305 with India and to facilitate the importation to Russia of Central Asian cotton. Political and military considerations supervened, and priority was given instead to the Trans-Caspian Railway. Construction started in 1880, and the line was extended by stages from Krasnovodsk via Kızılarbat to Samarkand, ultimately reaching Tashkent in 1898. It was not until 1900 that work on the line from Tashkent to 306 Orenburg finally began and 1906 that it was completed. Both the Trans-Caspian Railway and the Tashkent-Orenburg line were designed, obviously enough, to serve the military and economic purposes of the Russian Empire. They also served, however, to convey an increasing number of pilgrims from Central Asia, who travelled on from Orenburg to ports such as Odessa and Sevastopol, thence to embark for Istanbul. The conditions under which they travelled were far from easy: they

303 Concluding his examination of the perilous situation that prevailed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Naim R. Farooqi remarks: “Ironically, the free movement of Asian Muslims going on pilgrimage to Mecca would have to await the triumph of the English” (“Moguls, Ottomans, and Pilgrims: Protecting the Routes to Mecca in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” p. 220). 304 Daniel Brower, “Russian Roads to Mecca: Religious Tolerance and Muslim Pilgrimage in the Russian Empire,” pp. 572-573. 305 Ian Murray Matley, “Industrialization,” in Edward Allworth, ed., Central Asia: a Century of Russian Rule (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967), pp. 321-323. 306 J.N. Westwood, A History of Russian Railways (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1964), pp. 125-127.

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often had to wait for days to find room on a train, and suffered hostility and extor307 tion at the hands of Russian swindlers, private and official. More significant and directly concerned with promoting the hajj was, of course, the Hijaz Railway, a project initiated in 1900 by Sultan Abdülhamid II as an integral element in his Pan-Islamic policy. Alone of all the railway lines built on Ottoman territory, it was free of European financial involvement. The funds needed for its construction were contributed by donors from across the Muslim world, often in the face of opposition from the imperial powers, Russia in the territories it controlled, France in North Africa, and Britain in both Egypt and India; it was a truly Muslim enterprise. Of all the Muslims living under Russian rule, those of the Crimea appear to have been most generous or resourceful, possibly because of their greater proximity to Istanbul. As for Central Asian donors, the Amir of Bukhara contributed 160,000 roubles, and unnamed Naqshbandî shaykhs of the Khanate, together with merchants receptive to their guidance, are also reported to have raised 308 considerable funds. Sultan Abdülhamid reciprocated and encouraged further generosity by lavishing hospitality on prominent pilgrims from Khiva, Bukhara and 309 Khoqand as they passed through Istanbul. Once the line from Damascus to Medina was completed, the number of pilgrims using it increased steadily, from 8,777 in 310 1909 to 13,102 in 1913. At one and the same time, it elevated the prestige of the Ottoman State; expressed global Muslim solidarity; and provided a strategic link between Syria and the Hijaz. The Hijaz railway, linked as it was to Istanbul by lines constructed earlier across Anatolia and down into Syria, now became the swiftest and most convenient route to take: a journey from Damascus to Medina that had previously taken forty days was now reduced to a mere fifty-five hours. Users of the railway remained, however, a small minority of those who went on hajj during the years of its operation, never exceeding ten percent. Not many pilgrims from Central Asia and other Russian-ruled territories seem to have been among them, for travel by rail was an 307 Daniel Brower, “Russian Roads to Mecca,” p. 579. 308 William Ochsenwald, The Hijaz Railroad (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1980), pp. 69,76; Ulrich Fiedler, Der Bedeutungswandel der Hedschasbahn, eine historisch-geographische Untersuchung (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1984), p. 46; Ufuk Gülsoy, Hicaz Demiryolu (Istanbul: Eren, 1994), pp. 82-83; Murat Özyüksel, Hicaz Demiryolu (Ankara: Tarih Vakfı, 2000), p. 96. Contributions were also forthcoming from prominent Naqshbandîs of the Volga-Ural region, notable among them Muhammad Sâbir Jân Hasanî, the mufti of Ufa; see the Beirut newspaper, Thamarât al-Funûn, for March 4, 1901, p. 2. 309 Report of Arminius Vambéry to Sir Thomas Sanderson, Permanent Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs, dated May 7, 1894, translated in Mim Kemal Öke, İngiliz casusu Prof. Arminius Vambery’nin Gizli Raporlarında II. Abdülhamid ve Dönemi (Istanbul: Üçdal Neşriyat, 1983), p. 84. 310 Özyüksel, Hicaz Demiryolu, p. 225. This figure does not include passengers using the line outside the hajj season and for purposes other than pilgrimage.

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option limited to the relatively affluent. In 1910, two years after the railway had entered operation, fully 10,000 Turkistanis travelled to the Hijaz by sea, departing 311 for Jeddah from either Indian ports or Istanbul. This figure was reported by H. Kazem Zadeh, financial affairs officer at the Iranian consulate in Jeddah during the year in question. By way of explaining the apparent reluctance of Central Asian pilgrims to use the Hijaz railway, he relates the following anecdote: a swindler posing as a pilgrim guide persuaded some Central Asians that there was a direct railway line from Istanbul to Medina, and that all they needed to do to proceed comfortably to the Hijaz was to board a train in the Ottoman capital. Selling them the tickets that would supposedly take them all the way to their destination, he then put them on the funicular railway – the Tünel – that still links Galata with Karaköy. Five minutes later, they were forced to disembark, out of pocket and still far 312 distant from the Hijaz. This anecdote related by Kazem Zadeh bears, however, all the signs of an ethnic joke, of a worldly wise Iranian amusing himself at the expense of the simple-minded and boorish Turkistanis. He himself provides a more persuasive explanation for their eschewal of the overland route – a concern for economy, for travelling by sea was less expensive than taking the train, especially if one chose the cheapest ships available, which might take as much as forty five days 313 to complete the voyage from Istanbul to Jeddah. Travelling on one such ship together with a group of Central Asian pilgrims, Kazem Zadeh observed that they clustered around a dervish who would twice a day don a ragged khirqa and recite 314 poetry for their edification, as well as instructing them in the rites of the hajj. The First World War occasioned, of course, a severe disruption of all hajj traffic, and the Hijaz Railway was an early casualty of the hostilities. While still under construction, it had already been attacked with great frequency by the Beduin marauders who saw in it an obstacle to their traditional spoliations. Once the line had reached Medina in 1908, they often plundered trains as they approached the city and they even besieged the Ottoman garrison there as a signal of their determination to prevent the continuation of the railway to Mecca; even the Jannat 315 al-Baqî‘, the graveyard adjoining the Masjid al-Nabawî, came under fire. Sharif 311 H. Kazem Zadeh, Relation d’un Pèlerinage à la Mecque en 1910-1911 (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1912), p. 59. 312 H. Kazem Zadeh, Relation d’un Pèlerinage à la Mecque en 1910-1911, p. 52. A comparable story of considerably more recent origin concerns a group of Albanians seeking to enter Italy illegally by crossing the Adriatic from Croatia. Some enterprising Croats loaded them, it is said, on a boat on a small lake in Eastern Croatia for an appropriate fee, and unloading them on the opposite shore, told them they had arrived in Italy. Related to me by Ahmed Zildžić of Sarajevo. 313 H. Kazem Zadeh, Relation d’un Pèlerinage à la Mecque en 1910-1911, pp. 51-52. 314 H. Kazem Zadeh, Relation d’un Pèlerinage à la Mecque en 1910-1911, pp. 53-54. 315 Arthur John Byng Wavell, A Modern Pilgrim in Mecca and a Siege in Sanaa (London: Constable, 1912), pp. 58-63, 78-85. Wavell was an English adventurer, who, masquerad-

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Husayn of Mecca was also loth to permit the progress of the line all the way to Mecca, and once the First World War began, he had the Beduin continue sabotaging the railway, now under the supervision of the British and with their logistical 316 assistance. Ottoman communications with the Hijaz were thus thoroughly disrupted, and a unique project to the realisation of which so many Muslims had con317 tributed was brought to a violent, premature, and definitive end.

ing as a Muslim, took the train from Damascus to Medina in 1908 soon after the line was completed and went through the motions of performing the hajj. Beduin harassment of trains as they approached Medina was also noted by an Iranian pilgrim, Abû alQâsim Marjânî Â’în-Kalâ’î, in his Safar-nâma-yi Hajj, in Do Safar-Nâma-yi Hajj, ed. Rasûl Ja‘farîân (Tehran: Markaz-i Tahqîqât-i Hajj, 1387/2008), pp. 48-49. See too HansJürgen Philipp, “Der beduinische Widerstand gegen die Hedschasbahn,” Die Welt des Islams 25 (1985), pp. 31-83. 316 The stretch of the railway from Ma‘ân to Medina – together with other principal routes in the Hijaz and leading to it – had already been extensively mapped and described in the years leading up to the First World War on behalf of the so-called Arab Bureau in Cairo by the British archaeologist-spy, David George Hogarth; it is to be presumed that his account was one of the references on which the infamous T.E. Lawrence drew while engaged in sabotaging the Hijaz railway. See David George Hogarth, Hejaz before World War I, reprint (Naples and Cambridge: Falcon and Oleander, 1978), pp. 128-141. As for Lawrence himself, in his Seven Pillars of Wisdom, surely one of the most overrated books of the twentieth century, he describes with repugnant glee one of the attacks on the railway he supervised (see Penguin Modern Classics Edition, Harmondsworth, Middlesex 1962, pp. 371 ff). Equally objectionable, although for quite different reasons, is the justification offered by François Lantz for Beduin attacks on the railway. He asserts that the construction of the Hijaz railway upset entirely the equilibrium of nomadic and sedentary on which Islamic civilisation had hitherto rested. The raiding propensities of the Beduin had initially been channelled, he claims, into the expansion of the Islamic realm outside the Arabian Peninsula, and after this process was complete, the Arab nomads were compensated by becoming “masters of the routes and the caravans.” Once this mastery was denied them, they were “deprived of the role assigned them by religion,” with the result that “Islam changed its nature and became definitively anchored in a sedentary identity.” See Lantz, Chemins de fer et perception de l’espace dans les provinces arabes de l’empire ottoman (Paris: l’Harmattan, 2005), pp. 226227. This grossly hyperbolic conclusion is remarkable, even by the debased standards of the social sciences in their current post-modernist phase. 317 Once hostilities were over, the Hashemites sought to assert ownership of what they had previously attempted to destroy, and accordingly instructed the Beduin to stop attacking the railway instead of assaulting it in return for the subsidy they continued to receive. See William Ochsenwald, “A Modern Waqf: the Hijaz Railway, 1900-48,” Arabian Studies III (1976), pp. 3-5. On the reasons for the continued failure to restore the railway, see Rami Farouk Daher, “The Hijaz Railroad Line on the Darb al-Hajj al-Shami: The Last of the Sublime Regional Muslim Endeavors,” paper presented to the International Symposium on the Ottoman Heritage in the Middle East, Hatay, 25-27 October 2000, p. 17. The Saudi government plainly has no interest in doing so. It has, however, awarded a

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A Triple Misfortune: Bolshevism, Kemalism, and Wahhabism Once the war was over, three apparently unconnected developments combined to produce a similar effect: the gradual consolidation of Soviet rule in Central Asia; the proscription of the Sufi orders in the Turkish Republic in 1925; and the Wahhabi conquest of the Hijaz in the same year. It was more than a chronological coincidence: Bolshevism, Kemalism, and Wahhabism, three diverse, indeed mutually hostile, ideologies, had in common hostility to Sufism. Their convergence brought to an end the patterns of travel and interchange, the linkages between Central Asia, India and the Ottoman lands with the Haramayn as their pivot, established or reinforced by the expansion of the Naqshbandiyya. One immediate consequence of the Bolshevik triumph was the complete cessation of hajj traffic from the former Russian empire. The Soviet Union maintained a consulate in Jeddah, but only, it would seem, to observe pilgrims arriving from other colonised lands and to persuade them that the Bolsheviks were sympathetic to 318 their plight. In a Central Asia now irredeemably scarred by the “deliberately nonsensical borders” that Stalin drew across the region, the tarîqats became a primary target of assault by the state; not only were they pillars of the Islamic culture the Bolsheviks sought to destroy, but also foci of a popular loyalty that tended to es-

contract for the construction of a light railway line between Mecca and Medina to Alstom, a French company with a 20% stake in the consortium building a network connecting Zionist settlements on the West Bank with Jerusalem. E-mail alert from Islamic Human Rights Commission, London, June 11, 2009. Another questionable rail project began operating in time for the hajj of 1431/2010: a line connecting ‘Arafât, Muzdalifa and the Jamarât built by Chinese workers, most if not all of them non-Muslim. Use of it was restricted to citizens and residents of the Saudi realm and pilgrims from the Gulf statelets, but next year, it is said, hujjâj from Jordan and Iraq will be generously permitted to join the ranks of the privileged. See Imran Garda, “Red workers, green trains make hajj easier – for some,” posted on al-Jazeera website, November 13, 2010. The ongoing defacement of the cityscape of Mecca has given rise to another factor of inequality. Relatively few among the pilgrims can afford to stay in the highrise apartment buildings – surmounted by a grotesque replica of Big Ben – that now loom over the Haram and provide the greatest degree of proximity and easy access to the sacred site. Irreverently but appropriately, they have been compared to “the luxury boxes that encircle most sports stadiums.” See Nicolai Ouroussoff, “New Look for Mecca: Gargantuan and Gaudy,” New York Times, December 30, 2010. 318 The consulate was headed in the 1920s by a Tatar, Karim Sokolov, and staffed by several others of the same nationality. As nominal Muslims, they were able to travel to Mecca and mingle there with the pilgrims. Sokolov’s mission invites comparison with that of Devletshin, another loyalist Tatar, close to thirty years earlier. A devout drunkard and married to a Russian woman, Sokolov was later posted to the Yemen before being recalled to the Soviet Union and liquidated. See the vivid account of him given by his friend, D. van der Meulen, the Dutch consul in Jeddah: Faces in Shem (London: John Murray, 1961), pp. 36-49.

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cape official surveillance. From 1929 to 1933, a million and a half Naqshbandîs are said to have been arrested by the Bolsheviks in Central Asia, many of whom 320 presumably perished while in detention. Propaganda against the Sufi orders, notably the Naqshbandiyya, as purveyors of a “cult of saints,” continued with varying 321 degrees of virulence throughout the Soviet period. This persistent campaign was, of course, oblique testimony to the survival of the tarîqats, in whatever vestigial and sometimes degenerate form. Noteworthy for its fidelity to Naqshbandî-Mujaddidî tradition as well as unbroken continuity throughout the whole of the Soviet period was the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya-Husayniyya; the last element in this tripartite designation refers to a certain Khalîfa Husayn (d. 1834), separated by one link in the initiatic chain from the celebrated Mûsâ Khân Dahbîdî. The key figures in the struggle for survival waged by this branch of the Naqshbandiyya in the Ferghana valley and elsewhere were Khalîfa ‘Abd al-Wâhid Turkistânî (d. 1940 or 322 1941) and his successor, Qârî ‘Abdullâh (d. 1976). When Germany attacked the Soviet Union in 1941, Stalin deemed it opportune, in order to secure Muslim loyalty during the Great Patriotic War that ensued, to permit anew some degree of organised religious activity under the firm control of the state; hence the establishment of the so-called “spiritual directorates”, one for each of the four principal regions of Muslim population. But it was not until the end of the war in 1945 that hajj from the Soviet Union recommenced, and then only on a very restricted basis. Each party of pilgrims consisted of twenty or thirty carefully chosen participants, and as with other groups of Muslims sent abroad by the 323 state, the purpose in dispatching them was in large part propagandistic. But at one and the same time, propaganda against the tarîqats continued, often with the participation of the “spiritual directorates.” Given the sum of these developments, it was not long before the flow of pilgrims from Central Asia to the Uzbek tekkes of Istanbul came to an end. They did 319 The phrase, “deliberately nonsensical borders,” is that of Craig Murray, who in still more vivid language compares the boundaries drawn between Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Kirghizstan to “a jigsaw cut by a one-armed alcoholic” (Murder in Samarkand [Edinburgh and London: Mainstream Publishing, 2007], p. 70). 320 Baymirza Hayit, Islam and Turkestan under Russian Rule (Istanbul: n.p., 1987), p. 321. He provides no source for this figure. 321 For a sample of the relevant literature, see V.N. Basilov, Kul’t Sviatykh v Islame (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo Mysl’, 1970). It is not without significance that the concept, “cult of saints,” was also used by European colonialist-scholars, although the tone of their work is often more sympathetic and insightful; see, for example, Émile Dermenghem, Le Culte des Saints dans l’Islam Maghrébin (Paris: Gallimard, 1954). 322 Bakhtiyar Babajanov, “Le renouveau des communautés soufies en Ouzbékistan,” Cahiers d’Asie Centrale, no. 5-6: Boukhara-la-Noble (Tashkent & Aix-en-Provence: Institut Français d’Études sur l’Asie Centrale, 1998), pp. 295-296. 323 Alexandre Bennigsen and Chantal Lemercier-Quelquejay, L’Islam en Union Soviétique (Paris: Payot, 1968), pp. 176-183.

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not, however, lose their significance forthwith. Under the auspices of Ata Efendi (d. 1936), postnişin at the time, the Sultantepe tekke played a role of some importance in the initial stages of the Milli Mücadele, the struggle for Turkish independence. He stored weapons in the tekke; gave shelter to those being sought by the forces occupying Istanbul; and arranged for the passage of others to Anatolia so they might join the armed resistance. Among those who took refuge in the tekke were the novelist Halide Edip Adıvar and her husband, the scholar and historian Adnan 324 Adıvar; the poet Mehmed Akif; and Ismet Inönü. After the closure of the tekkes in 1925, Ata Efendi and his family continued to live at Sultantepe and he was able to perpetuate a few devotional practices of the Naqshbandiyya. It is said also that he received funds from Atatürk to visit Central Asia in the 1920s, perhaps for some 325 political purpose. But the tekke itself, notwithstanding the services it had rendered to the national cause, was allowed to decay, and the plaque over its main entrance recording, in fine calligraphy, the circumstances of its origin was smeared over with cement. The tekke was gradually restored over a ten-year period beginning in 1983 with funds provided by Nesuhi Ertegün (d. 1989) and his brother, Ahmet (d. 2006), music impresarios who made a fortune in America; they were the sons of Münir Ertegün, a Turkish ambassador to the United States, the grandson of 326 Edhem Efendi Hezarfen. As for the counterpart of the tekke at Sultantepe, that at Küçük Ayasofya, it continued to host Central Asians, but these were now predominantly exiles and refugees, not pilgrims en route to the hajj. In 1922, part of the structure was assigned to the Turkistan Youth Association (Türkistan Gençler Birliği) to serve as its headquarters, and five years later the mosque attached to the tekke, in a state of disuse after the proscription of the tarîqats, was turned over to the same association for use as a lecture hall. In later years, other Turkistani associations also came to maintain offices at the tekke. The last postnişin, a certain Abdurrahman of Bukharan descent, continued living there with his family until his death in 1953, but the building also housed a number of refugees from Central Asia who were able to make their way to Turkey. No Naqshbandî practices, in even vestigial form, seem to have continued under the changed circumstances wrought by the up324 Kadir Mısıroğlu, Kurtuluş Savaşında Sarıklı Mücahitler, 6th ed. (Istanbul: Sebil Yayınları, 1980), pp. 276-287. See also Halide Edip Adıvar, Türkün Ateşle İmtihanı (Istanbul: Can Yayınları, 1969), p, 64. 325 Grace Martin Smith, “The Özbek Tekkes of Istanbul,” p. 137. 326 It is an irony of history that money derived from promoting the Rolling Stones should have been employed to restore a building where devotional chants in Ottoman and Chaghatay Turkish had been intoned for centuries. Still more incongruous was the presence of Henry Kissinger as guest of honour at the festivities celebrating the restoration of the tekke; see “Özbekler Tekkesi’nin açılışına Henry Kissinger de katıldı,” Tercüman, September 14, 1994.

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heavals of the 1920s. Since the early 1990s, however, efforts have been underway at rescuing the structures constituting the tekke from the extreme delapidation to 328 which decades of neglect had reduced them. The alienation of these and other tekkes from their traditional purposes did not suffice to bring about the actual demise of the Sufi orders. The confidence implicit in the official declaration made in September 1925 “that from this day forth, there are no tarîqats, or dervishes or murîds belonging to them, within the boundaries of 329 the Turkish Republic,” was severely misplaced. The Naqshbandiyya was particularly well-equipped to survive, with its deep roots in the religiously observant segment of Turkish society; its wide geographic distribution; and the ease with which it was able to dispense precisely with tekkes. In addition, the harassment to which shaykhs of the order were exposed was intermittent, less consistently vicious than that suffered by their Central Asian counterparts. With the passage of time, a number of lineages became increasingly visible, primarily in Istanbul; particularly important were the groups clustered around Mehmed Zahid Kotku (d. 1980) at the İskenderpaşa mosque in Fatih, and Sami Ramazanoğlu (d. 1984) in Erenköy. But their connections with Naqshbandîs outside of Turkey were limited; there was some awareness of them in Syria, itself home to a number of well-entrenched Naqshbandî lineages, and from the late 1960s onwards, Bosnian Naqshbandîs passing through Istanbul on their way to the hajj would stop to pay their respects to these and other shaykhs. Contact with the Naqshbandîs of Central Asia had to wait until the implosion of the Soviet Union in 1991. In a number of the newly independent states, especially Uzbekistan, the Sufi heritage was invoked to serve both as an essential element of the national identity under construction, and as a counterweight to Islamic movements with a political bent. The Uzbek government accordingly began the restoration of a number of shrines – most particularly that of Khwâja Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband himself – and encouraged the publication of a wide variety of hagio330 graphical and popularising works on the Naqshbandiyya. It was therefore appropriate that the restoration of tarîqat links between Central Asia and Turkey should 327 Grace Martin Smith, “The Özbek Tekkes of Istanbul,” p. 138; Zarcone, “Histoire et Croyances des Derviches Turkestanais et Indiens à Istanbul,” p. 152. 328 M. Baha Tanman, “Özbekler Tekkesi (Küçük Ayasofya),” p. 122. Similar efforts at restoration have been undertaken at the Kaşgarî Tekke in Eyüp; see Grace Martin Smith, “The Kaşgarî Dergâh in Istanbul,” Archivum Ottomanicum XIV (1995-96), pp. 213-221. 329 For the text of the law banning the tarîqats, see Sadık Albayrak, Türkiye’de Din Kavgası, 2nd ed. (Istanbul: Şamil Yayınevi, 1975), pp. 188-189. 330 For a brief analysis of this literature, see Vernon James Schubel, “Post-Soviet Hagiography and the Reconstruction of the Naqshbandi Tradition in Contemporary Uzbekistan,” in Elisabeth Özdalga, ed., Naqshbandis in Western and Central Asia (Istanbul: Swedish Research Institute, 1999), pp. 73-87. Schubel’s assertion on p. 76 that “the actual [Naqshbandî] order” has disappeared from Central Asia is, of course, erroneous.

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have begun at the governmental level. In 1991, President Karimov of Uzbekistan visited Ankara and Istanbul and met with his Turkish counterpart, Turgut Özal, who happened to be a follower of Kotku’s successor, Esat Coşan. In 1993, Coşan accompanied Özal to Uzbekistan and initiated a number of Central Asians into his branch of the order. Its presence in the Uzbek milieu is said, however, to be strictly circumscribed and primarily symbolic in nature, acceptable to the authorities precisely because “they do not want an influential foreign Sufism to spread in their 331 country.” Unconnected to the state in either Turkey or Uzbekistan is another Naqshbandî group that has made its way to Central Asia, which centred on Menzilköyü, a village near Adıyaman. Its rise to prominence began with Muhammed Raşid Erol (d. 1993), whose success in attracting a large following across Turkey earned him a period of banishment first to Çanakkale and then to the island of İmroz; this ordeal did noth332 ing to diminish his appeal. The Menzilköyü branch of the Naqshbandiyya was first introduced to Uzbekistan by students returning from Turkey from 1992 onwards. In 1994, Muhammed Raşid Erol’s elder son, Abdülbâkî, visited Uzbekistan and continued the work of propagation, evidently with some success despite the opposition of various indigenous Naqshbandî groups that had survived the Soviet 333 era, all going back to the Khalîfa Husayn mentioned above. It has been plausibly suggested that the partial welcome accorded the Menzilköyü branch stems from the 334 linkage it provides with the freer and more advanced environment of Turkey. For

331 Thierry Zarcone, “Naqshbandî-Khâlidî Influence in Twentieth Century Central Asia, Including Afghanistan and Xinjiang,” Journal of the History of Sufism V (2007), p. 217. Babajanov writes additionally of a Naqshbandî group, active primarily in Andijan, that was introduced into Uzbekistan in roughly 2002 by the murîds of “the celebrated Turkish shaykh, Ahmad Efendi” (“Le renouveau des communautés soufies en Ouzbékistan,” p. 295). It is unclear whom he intends by Ahmad Efendi. 332 On his life and teachings, see Selaheddin Kınacı, Şeyh Seyyid Muhammed Raşid Erol (K.S.A.)’ nın Hayatı (Menzil: Menzil Yayınevi, n.d.), and on his political travails, Ruşen Çakır, Ayet ve Slogan: Türkiye’deki İslami Oluşumlar (Istanbul: Metis Yayınları, 1990), pp. 65-72. 333 On this irruption of an alien lineage, see Thierry Zarcone, “Bridging the gap between pre-Soviet and post-Soviet Sufism in Ferghana valley (Uzbekistan): The Naqshbandī order between tradition and innovation,” in Masatoshi Kisaichi, ed., Popular Movements and Democratization in the Islamic World (London and New York: Routledge, 2000), pp. 48-49, and idem, “Naqshbandî-Khâlidî Influence in Twentieth Century Central Asia, Including Afghanistan and Xinjiang,” pp. 219-221. A comparable phenomenon can be observed in Bosnia; adherents of the Menzilköyü line have established a tekke in Sarajevo and are engaged there in competition with shaykhs of the traditional Bosnian Naqshbandiyya. 334 Thierry Zarcone, “Naqshbandî-Khâlidî Influence in Twentieth Century Central Asia, Including Afghanistan and Xinjiang,” pp. 219-222.

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its Central Asian adherents, that linkage finds concrete expression in a choice of 335 the Istanbul route by those making the hajj. Attitudes and policies to organised Sufism have evolved far less in Saudi Arabia than in Central Asia or Turkey. The consequences of the Wahhabi takeover of the Haramayn in 1925 have proved more enduring than those of the relatively brief occupation that lasted from 1805-6 to 1812. Although Muhammad b. ‘Abd al-Wahhâb’s tracts are replete with the denunciation of various devotional practices of the Sufis, sources of the period do not report clashes with any particular group active in 336 the Haramayn at the time. Nonetheless, Naqshbandîs, primarily from the Khâlidiyya branch of the Mujaddidiyya, were among the earliest opponents of the 337 Wahhâbiyya to write forceful refutations of their doctrines. These polemics took place, however, at a distance from the Haramayn. Practical confrontation began in 1925, from which date onwards virtually all Sufi institutions in the Haramayn were disbanded, despite what has been called a “reform” tendency in Wahhabism that 335 There are other indications, unconnected to the tarîqat, that the tradition of transiting via Istanbul is undergoing a modest revival: in December 2009, a group of 120 Kazakh pilgrims visited the city on their homeward journey from the hajj and were given a tour of its principal attractions. See “Kazakh pilgrims revive Ottoman tradition with Turkey visit,” posted on www.worldbulletin.net/news on December 14, 2009. The reanimation of traffic between Central Asia and the broader Islamic world is perhaps liable to make Istanbul a hub of pilgrim traffic anew. Overland routes leading through Iran have also been revived; in 2008, a Turkish friend of the present writer encountered at the Jordanian-Saudi border a bus bringing pilgrims all the way from Kirghizstan. 336 A modern Saudi historian, ‘Abd al-Bâsit Badr, nonetheless writes that the Murâbitûn, enforcers of Wahhabi rectitude brought in from the Najd, would every now and then patrol the markets and streets of Medina “so that the workers of corruption (al-mufsidûn) would not dare to do anything” (al-Târîkh al-Shâmil li al-Madînat al-Munawwara [Medina: n.p., 1414/1993], II, pp. 441-442). On Wahhabi attitudes to Sufism, see Esther Peskes, “The Wahhābiyya and Sufism,” in Frederick de Jong and Bernd Radtke, eds., Islamic Mysticism Contested: Thirteen Centuries of Controversies and Polemics (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1999), pp. 145-161. A unique account of the hajj of 1221/1807 is given by the Spaniard, Domingo Badia y Leblich, who styling himself Ali Bey observed the Wahhabis in Mecca as they supervised the pilgrims that year: Travels of Ali Bey in Morocco, Tripoli, Cyprus, Egypt, Syria and Turkey between the years 1803 and 1807 (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown: 1816), II, pp. 50-73. 337 See, for example, Dâ’ûd b. al-Sayyid Sulaymân al-Baghdâdî al-Khâlidî, al-Minhat alWahbiyya fî Radd al-Wahhâbiyya (Bombay, n.p: 1306/1889; reprint Istanbul: Işık Kitabevi, 1403/1983). For a painstaking examination of the anti-Wahhabi agenda of this publishing house and its successor, Hakikat Kitabevi, see Esther Peskes, “Die Wahhābīya als innerislamisches Feindbild: zum Hintergrund anti-Wahhabitischer Publikationen in der zeitgenössischen Türkei,” Die Welt des Islams 40:3 (2000), pp. 344-374. Mawlânâ Khâlid Baghdâdî (d. 1827), the eponym of the Khâlidiyya, himself expressed forceful disdain for the Wahhabis and their teachings, as in the letter he addressed to one of his devotees, Sayyid ‘Abd al-Qâdir al-Mâwarânî, the qâdî of Basra (see Bughyat al-Wâjid fî Maktûbât Hadrat Mawlânâ Khâlid, ed. Muhammad As‘ad al-Khâlidî [Damascus: Matba‘at al-Taraqqî, 1334/1914] p. 172.)

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accompanied the establishment of the Saudi Kingdom. Most zâwiyas were destroyed, although some that counted as the private property of the shaykh were allowed to remain standing, and sometimes served as locations for the discreet per339 formance of dhikr and other tarîqat practices. Of particular importance to the Naqshbandiyya, especially its adherents in the Malay world, was the zâwiya atop Jabal Abî Qubays, established by Shaykh Sulaymân Zuhdî in the 1860s; it is still 340 viewed by Malay Naqshbandîs as the fountainhead of their order. The loss of officially sanctioned zâwiyas – in the Hijaz as in Turkey – did not, however, suffice to extinguish all tarîqat activity. Naqshbandîs of Baluch origin are said to have had 341 an organised presence in Mecca. As for Central Asians settled in the Hijaz, a semi-clandestine Naqshbandî presence has persisted among persons of Bukharan 342 descent in the Haramayn, as well as in Taif. Similarly, a certain Shaykh ‘Abdullâh Bukhârî was reported in 1985 to be holding sessions of khatm-i khwâjagân 343 at his home in Medina. The most significant Naqshbandî presence at the Haramayn has consisted for many years, however, of Turkish shaykhs coming from Istanbul for the hajj together with their followers; their residences have functioned 344 as improvised tekkes for the length of the pilgrimage season. One of the shaykhs in question, Sami Ramazanoğlu, was even permitted to follow the traditional practice of mujâwara, settling permanently in the City of the Prophet in 1979 and dying 345 there five years later. Clearly enough, the sum total of this evidence bears no 338 Mark J.R. Sedgwick, “Saudi Sufis: Compromise in the Hijaz, 1925-1940,” Die Welt des Islams 37:3 (November 1997), pp. 353-354. 339 Mark J.R. Sedgwick, “Saudi Sufis: Compromise in the Hijaz, 1925-1940,” p. 361. Mutatis mutandis, a similar observation can be made for some tekkes in post-Ottoman Turkey, particularly in the Kurdish regions. 340 According to some of them, the structure still exists. Thus Haji Maruf (d. July 1994) of Lengging, Negeri Sembilan, told the present writer in January 1990 that when performing the hajj in 1983 he had looked through the keyhole of the locked zâwiya and seen a lighted interior and carpets on the floor. Likewise, Haji Supian, a follower of Haji Yahya (d. 1989), claimed that not only did the zâwiya still exist, but that murîds of his late shaykh were resident there (conversation at Taman Naqsyabandiah, Kajang, Selangor, January 1990). According to Martin van Bruinessen, the zâwiya was indeed destroyed by the Wahhabis (“The Origins and Development of the Naqshbandi Order in Indonesia,” Der Islam 67 (1990), p. 174; perhaps it has been restored in recent years. 341 Mark J.R. Sedgwick, “Saudi Sufis: Compromise in the Hijaz, 1925-1940,” p. 361. 342 Observations of the present writer from the hajj of 1389/1970. 343 Frederick de Jong, “Les confréries mystiques musulmanes au Machreq arabe,” in A. Popovic and G. Veinstein, eds., Les Ordres Mystiques dans l’Islam (Paris: École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, 1985), p. 233. 344 Observations of the present writer from the hajj of 1389/1970. This, of course, may count as the revival or perpetuation of a longstanding tradition; see C. Snouck Hurgronje, Mekka in the Latter Part of the 19th Century, p. 206. 345 This may be attributable in part to the fact that Sami Efendi’s son-in-law, Ömer Kirazoğlu, was an accomplished architect and city planner on whose services the Saudi authorities frequently called. He, too, settled in Medina, dying there in 1989.

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comparison with the rich pattern of tarîqat activity in the Haramayn observable in earlier centuries, most notably the eighteenth and nineteenth. With whatever qualifier – “revolutionary,” “reform,” or “mature,” – Wahhabism be prefixed, it remains 346 an intrinsically censorious creed. A full resumption of tarîqat activity in the Haramayn is not therefore to be expected. The post-Ottoman dispensation in the Middle East has also entailed a series of consequences for the Uzbek zâwiya in Jerusalem. While continuing to host a variety of pilgrims on their way to the Hijaz, it acquired two political functions. The first was the same as that of the Özbekler Tekkesi in Küçük Ayasofya: to serve as gathering place for Uzbeks and other Central Asians effectively exiled from their homeland by the Bolshevik revolution. The second was to serve, under the auspices of Shaykh Ya‘qûb Rashîd al-Bukhârî, as refuge and meeting place for luminaries of the struggle against the British mandate in Palestine and the Zionist project. Foremost among them was the mufti of Jerusalem, al-Hâjj Amîn al-Husaynî, who would arrive at the zâwiya surrounded by his guards, and “then slip out the women’s entrance to a secret political rendezvous” while the shaykh left through the 347 main door surrounded by al-Husaynî’s entourage. A further disruption of traditional patterns came some four decades after the establishment of Saudi rule in the Hijaz, with the Zionist seizure of the Old City of Jerusalem in 1967. A minor consequence thereof has been that the Naqshbandî tekke on the Via Dolorosa, like the city of Jerusalem itself, is now totally inaccessible to pilgrims proceeding southward. The role of its recently deceased custodian, ‘Abd al-‘Azîz Bukhârî, was at sharp variance with that of his predecessor, Shaykh Ya‘qûb Rashîd al-Bukharî. He was much addicted to hyperbolic declarations of Abrahamic ecumenicism, claiming on one occasion that Islam shares fully 97% of its beliefs with Judaism and Christianity and that on the Day of Judgement “Jesus will 348 return and lead all Muslims into heaven.” Still waiting for the rapture, ‘Abd al-‘Azîz Bukhârî undertook in November 2009 a far more modest journey, to Istanbul, in the company of one Rabbi Menachem Froman, a supposedly penitent found349 er of Gush Emunim who still insists on residing in the West Bank. During the brutal assault on Gaza in December 2008, he saw fit to visit Sderot to express sym346 For these three terms, see Mark J.R. Sedgwick, “Saudi Sufis: Compromise in the Hijaz, 1925-1940,” p. 353. The sorry plight of Shi‘is in the Saudi kingdom is one indication of Wahhabis’ faithfulness to their origins. 347 Charmaine Seltz, “The Distracted Sufi: the Naqshabandi tariqa in Jerusalem,” Jerusalem Quarterly XX (January 2004), p. 61. 348 See Barbara Schiavulli, “The Uzbeks of Jerusalem;” Matthew Shane, “Sheikh Aziz Offers Peaceful Words for Jerusalem;” and Shaykh Abdul Aziz Bukhari, “The Naqshabandi Center in Jerusalem”, all three posted at www.jerusalempeacemakers.org/bukhari/ uzbek.html. 349 See “Türk diplomatlar İsrail’de eğitim görecek,” Milli Gazete (Istanbul) November 20, 2009.

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pathy for its residents, although some of his relatives were among those being bombarded on the other side of the border. ‘Abd al-‘Azîz Bukhârî’s plans for another mission to Turkey, this time to mollify public and official anger over the savage raid on the Turkish aid ship, Mavi Marmara, were aborted by his death in Jerus350 alem on June 2, 2010.

Conclusion This essay has sufficed, it is hoped, to show how closely the patterns of travel developed and pursued by Central Asian Naqshbandîs en route to the hajj were interwoven both with the diffusion of the tarîqat and the destinies of the broader Muslim world. The rôle of Khwâja ‘Ubayd Allâh Ahrâr’s descendants is particularly striking in this respect. Two of his initiates, Abdullâh Ilâhî and Emir Buhârî, established the first Naqshbandî presence in Istanbul, the city which more than any other became and remained for many centuries a preferred waystation for Central Asian pilgrims travelling to the Hijaz. Another of Ahrâr’s followers, Mawlânâ Utrârî, first went on the hajj and then founded a Naqshbandî hospice in Damascus for those who wished to follow his example; although apparently shortlived, this tekke served to presage the deeper implantation of the tarîqat in that city by Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî, made manifest by the several madrasas and zâwiyas he called into being. Equally impressive is the prestige enjoyed by some of Ahrâr’s linear descendants and the privileges that accrued to them at both the Ottoman and Mughal courts. A grandson, Khwâja ‘Abd al-Hâdî, met with “the Sultan of Rûm,” but he spurned the gifts he was offered, and chose instead – it is related – to obtain the remission of a certain tax levied on “God’s servants.” Similarly, Khwâja Sâdiq, a descendant in the fifth generation, was also respectfully received in Istanbul before proceeding on the hajj, and it was there that he died after fulfilling his duty of pilgrimage. It is not without interest that although Ahrâr never set foot in the Ottoman lands, Taşköprüzade includes him among the “scholars of the Ottoman State” in his celebrated biographical compendium, al-Shaqâ’iq al-Nu‘mâniyya fî ‘Ulamâ’ al-Dawlat al-‘Uthmâniyya; the intent seems to be an invocation of Ahrâr and his 351 posthumous repute by way of enhancing the glory of the Ottoman state. Relations between Ahrâr’s descendants and the Mughals were closer and more prolonged, and touched directly on the affairs of the hajj. Bâbur, founder of the dynasty, paid homage to Ahrâr by translating into Chaghatay verse one of his brief 350 See obituary in The Jerusalem Post, June 3, 2010. 351 It should, however, be noted that according to Taşköprüzade, Ahrâr put in a miraculous appearance at the side of Fatih Sultan Mehmet in the course of an unnamed battle, thus turning the tide in his favour; see al-Shaqâ’iq al-Nu‘mâniyya fî ‘Ulamâ’ al-Dawlat al-‘Uthmâniyya, p. 158.

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treatises, Risâla-yi Wâlidiyya; Khâwand Mahmûd, a grandson of Ahrâr, enjoyed pride of place at Bâbur’s court; and, most memorably, Akbar appointed two Ahrârîs, Khwâja ‘Abd al-‘Azîm and Khwâja Muhammad Yahyâ, to lead hajj caravans that included the ladies of his household among their passengers as well as 352 numerous Central Asians. It can be said, therefore, that Ahrârî Naqshbandîs were instrumental in establishing ties of spiritual and even political filiation in two of the major zones of Sunni culture – the Ottoman and Mughal Empires – and in so doing helped to define the routes chosen by Central Asians making their way to the Haramayn. It was, however, Istanbul rather than any Mughal city that enjoyed continuous pride of place among waystations selected by Central Asian hujjâj, Naqshbandî or other. This is indicated by the existence there, continuously for roughly three centuries, of Naqshbandî tekkes founded expressly to provide shelter and hospitality to Central Asians aspiring to make the pilgrimage – the Uzbek tekkes at Sultantepe, Bülbüldere, Küçük Ayasofya, and Eyüp. There is no comparable record of similar institutions on the routes leading south from Central Asia to India: place names including the element “Langar” (literally, “anchorage”) suggest more informal types of accommodation, and the caravanserais that existed on the trade routes to India were intended in the first place for merchants, not for pilgrims. The prestige of Istanbul as centre of the Ottoman caliphate, although its writ did not run to Central Asia, was also an element in the draw it exerted; the rôle played by the Uzbek tekkes of Istanbul shows clearly the connection that existed between hajj, diplomatic relations with the Central Asian khanates, and the Naqshbandiyya. In addition, the beauty and attractiveness of the city cannot fail to have impressed travellers accustomed to the landlocked cities and barren terrains of Central Asia; as ‘Abd Allâh Kâshgharî exclaimed on beholding Istanbul for the first time: “Here was a city the like of which I had never seen … in the midst of it great waterways 353 beyond the mind’s ability to conceive, plied by fine ships of all types.” His sentiments were echoed later by Süleyman Efendi, the Bukharan postnişin of the tekke at Küçük Ayasofya, when after returning to Istanbul from a prolonged journey to India, Afghanistan and Central Asia, he enthusiastically declared: “There is no land so sacred, no city so holy.” Finally, linguistic affinity between Chaghatay and Ottoman Turkish, particularly emphasised in the nineteenth century, may also have counted for something. The emergence of the Mujaddidiyya in the seventeenth century and its progressive overshadowing or absorption of most other branches of the Naqshbandî 352 See, in general, on this topic Richard Foltz, “The Central Asian Naqshbandı Connections of the Mughal Emperors,” Journal of Islamic Studies (Oxford), VII:2 (1996), pp. 229-239. 353 Hamid Algar, “From Kashghar to Eyüp: The Lineages and Legacy of Sheikh Abdullah Nidai,” p. 9.

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tarîqat, whether in India, Central Asia or Ottoman Turkey, does not seem to have materially affected this pre-eminence of Istanbul. Lavish facilities for the reception of pilgrims en route to the Hijaz, as well as aspirants for initiation, were available at Sirhind, at least in the time of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm, but the manifold miseries afflicting the Punjab in the second half of the eighteenth century impelled the relocation of Mujaddidî leadership to Delhi, and no khânaqâhs extending hospitality to Central Asian hujjâj appear to have existed in that city before the time of Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî. Thus Istanbul, Bursa, Tarsus, Damascus, Jerusalem, Cairo and – at least for a while – Sirhind, housed Naqshbandî tekkes/zâwiyas/khânâqahs devoted, in whole or in part, to the reception of Central Asian pilgrims travelling on to the Haramayn. It might then be logical to expect similar institutions to have functioned, under Naqshbandî auspices, in Mecca and Medina both to mark the presence there of the tarîqat and to accommodate the needs of pilgrims once they had arrived. Only two such institutions can be identified with confidence before the nineteenth century: the tekke established by Kânûnî Süleyman for ‘Abd al-Rahmân Ghubârî; and another founded by Murad IV. That mentioned by Evliyâ Çelebi simply by name as “Bahâ’eddin Nakşibend Tekkesi” might have been identical with either of these; and as for the khânaqâh Akbar ordered Khwâja ‘Abd al-‘Azîm to have built, it may have passed into the hands of the Qâdirîs, if Evliyâ Çelebi is to be believed. This apparent rarity of zâwiyas in the pre-nineteenth century Haramayn does not, of course, equate with an absence of the tarîqat. Numerous are the mujâwirîn who resided there for periods of differing length and who did so in part to engage in propagating the Naqshbandî path. By way of example, we may recall from widely separated periods Ismâ‘îl Shîrwânî and Ahmad Yakdast Jûryânî. They are not recorded to have established zâwiyas; the presumption is, therefore, that they gave instruction and conducted their distinctive devotional ceremonies either in mosques – a commonplace before the Wahhabi conquest of the Hijaz –, in madrasas, or in their own residences, a pattern which had been conventional before the rise of the zâwiya/tekke/khânaqâh as the institutional expression of Sufism. True, Ibn al-‘Ujaymî’s compendium on the Sufis of Mecca in the seventeenth century bears the title Khabâyâ al-Zawâyâ (“The Recesses of the Zâwiyas”), but the contents are organised according not to Sufi hostels that may have existed in the city but to the shaykhs who were active there and their lineages. This suggests a primacy of personages over institutions. The nineteenth century witnessed both a widespread expansion of rule over the Muslim lands by European powers, and, to their frequent consternation, a notable increase in hajj traffic. The two phenomena were connected in that imperial rule brought with it, as an unintended measure of compensation, new modes of reliable and relatively swift transportation to the Hijaz – first steamships and then

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railways. Russia, Holland and France all shared the fear that with Ottoman encouragement, links of militant solidarity might be forged in a location beyond their immediate purview, or that simply performing the hajj would incline the pilgrim to insurrection after returning to his homeland. Such anxieties were not entirely irrational, as the case of Dûkchî Îshân illustrates, but the pan-Islamic potential of the hajj remained largely unrealised. Of far greater interest and significance was the unprecedented degree to which the Haramayn became a pivot for the diffusion of the Sufi orders, especially the Naqshbandiyya. Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî‘s representative in Mecca, Muhammad Jân Bâjawrî, initiated into his branch of the Mujaddidiyya a large number of pilgrims, primarily Ottomans but also a significant group of Central Asians; the same is true of four of Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî‘s initiatic descendants who were active in the Haramayn – Abû Sa‘îd, Ahmad Sa‘îd, Muhammad Mazhar and Muhammad Sâlih al-Zawâwî. Equally important was the growing influence of the Khâlidî derivative of the Mujaddidiyya, also exerted in large part from the Haramayn; its appeal for Muslims subject to Russian rule was, however, limited almost entirely to the peoples of Daghistan, Chechnya, Tatarstan and Bashkiria. With the more or less simultaneous ascendancy of Bolshevism, Kemalism and Wahhabism in the aftermath of the First World War, the patterns of travel to the Hijaz we have traced in this essay were definitively ruptured. Once the darkness and isolation of Bolshevik rule descended on Central Asia, the very existence of the Naqshbandiyya in its homeland came under threat, and the performance of the hajj by Muslims subject to Soviet rule was rendered impossible until it was permitted anew from 1945 onwards, and then only for a privileged and extremely small minority. The Naqshbandiyya showed greater resilience than any other tarîqat in the face of prohibition by the Turkish state, but its international links were negligible. In the Haramayn, the grim and sterile rigour of Wahhabism came to preclude all effective continuation of the tarîqat activity that had been so marked in the nineteenth century. With the implosion of the Soviet Union, matters have of course changed for the Muslims of Central Asia, and a certain rebirth of Naqshbandî activity is to be noted. It is, however, highly unlikely that the routes historically traversed by Central Asian pilgrims, Naqshbandî and other, will be substantially restored; it is Istanbul, and Istanbul alone, that provides some evidence for a modest revival of tradition. The lamentably fragmented and insecure state of Afghanistan and Pakistan makes it unlikely that what we have called the Indian route for Central Asian pilgrims will be revived in the foreseeable future. Apart from all the foregoing, the facility, directness and relative cheapness of air travel has perhaps made the question of route obsolete, as well as enabling more pilgrims than ever before to fulfill their obligation of hajj, just as did the rise in steamship traffic in the nineteenth century. The price of air tickets, rather than se-

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lecting sites for pious visitation on an overland journey or the availability of lodging in Naqshbandî hospices, has now become a factor in choosing one’s route 354 to the two Sacred Cities. No longer can we speak of a correlation between tarîq and tarîqat, between the road and the Path.

Epilogue: Ziyârat as Hajj Substitute The different pilgrimage routes emanating in historic times from Central Asia, as related above, all provided opportunity, to varying degrees, for visitation of the tombs of the saintly and learned as they made their way to the Haramayn; such ziyârat served, in fact, as a mode of preparation for the hajj itself. It should be remembered, however, that Bukhara and Samarkand, particularly the former, were often themselves destinations for pious travel, independently of the hajj, not simply points of departure. Catalogues illustrative of this appeal were compiled for the 355 shrines of each city. The principal shrine of Bukhara was, of course, that of Khwâja Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband himself at Qasr-i ‘Ârifân, just outside the city. Recent initiates to the order or aspirants would sometimes travel there from quite distant places to pay their respects. Such was the case, for example, with Mullâ Abdullâh Ilâhî (d. 1490); Šejh Husejn Baba Zukić (d. 1789), the effective originator of the Naqsbandiyya in Bosnia, who spent a full seven years at Qasr-i ‘Ârifân; and Muhammad Sa‘îd (d. 1949), scion of a hereditary line of shaykhs in Talish, North West Iran, whose Central Asian tour, undertaken not long before the First World War, took in Tashkent, 356 Samarkand, Khoqand and Andijan as well as Bukhara. For the people of the city, 354 Annemarie Schimmel’s speculation that contemporary hujjâj long for the discomforts of the pre-modern hajj is, in the view of the present writer, questionable (Das Thema des Weges und der Reise im Islam, p. 12). For all their devotion, the pilgrims that made their way across daunting and often dangerous terrain must often have thought of the Arabic proverb: al-safaru qit‘atun min al-saqar (“travel is a fragment of Hell”). An Indian pilgrim, Hâfiz Muhammad ‘Abd al-Husayn Karnâtakî, who performed the hajj in 1817, entitled his memoir Tazkirat al-Tarîq fî Masâ’ib Hujjâj Bayti’llâh al-‘Atîq (“A Memoir of the Journey, Concerning the Misfortunes Suffered by the Pilgrims to God’s Ancient House”, eds. Rasûl Ja‘farîân and Esra Doğan [Qum: Nashr-i Mu’arrikh, 1386/2007]). 355 For Samarkand, see Muhammad b. ‘Abd al-Jalîl Samarqandî and Abû Tâhir Khwâja Samarqandî, Qandiyya wa Samariyya: do Risâla dar Târîkh-i Mazârât va Jughrâfîya-yi Samarqand, ed. Îraj Afshâr, (Tehran: Mu’assasa-yi Farhangî-yi Jahângîrî, 1367/1988); and for Bukhara, Ahmad b. Mahmûd Mu‘în al-Fuqarâ, Târîkh-i Mullâzâda dar Zikr-i Mazârât-i Bukhârâ, ed. Ahmad Gulchîn-i Ma‘ânî (Tehran: Ibn-i Sînâ, 1339/1960), and Nûr al-Dîn Tûra Bukhârâ’î, Tuhfat al-Zâ’irîn (Bukhara: Mullâ Muhammad Makhdûm, 1328/1910). For a general overview of Central Asian ziyârat practices and traditions, see Thierry Zarcone, “Zīyāra, 6: The Turkish Lands, including the Balkans and Central Asia,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., XI: 534-535. 356 See respectively Lâmiî Çelebi, Nefehat ül-Üns Tercemesi, reprint (Istanbul: Marifet Yayınları, 1980) p. 461; Hamid Algar, “Some Notes on the Naqshbandī ṭarīqat in Bosnia,” Die Welt des Islams XIII (1972), pp. 173-174; Hamid Algar, “The Naqshbandiyya-

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Bahâ’ al-Dîn counted as a spiritual guardian (balâ-gardân), and pilgrimage to his tomb was a weekly affair for them and those living nearby; the afflux was particularly large on the occasion of Nawrûz, celebrated there and elsewhere in Central 357 Asia as ‘Îd-i gul-i surkh (“the festival of red roses”). When the cult began is unclear. Mu‘în al-Fuqarâ’s Târîkh-i Mullâzâda, a fifteenth century guide to pilgrimage sites in Bukhara and its environs, passes over the tomb of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband in complete silence. By contrast, the resting places of several figures in the Khwâjagân lineage from which the Naqshbandîya emerged – Muhammad b. ‘Umar al-Sadr, Khwâja ‘Abd Allâh Baraqî and Khwâja Hasan Andâqî – do find mention, and the authority of one of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband’s principal successors, Khwâja 358 Muhammad Pârsâ, is invoked to justify the whole practice of ziyârat. It was during the reign of two Shaybanid rulers of Bukhara, ‘Ubayd Allâh Khân (r. 1534-1539) and his son, ‘Abd Allâh (r. 1539-1540) that Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband’s place of burial was first marked with a ceremonial structure, described as a dakhma. What precisely is meant by the word in this context is unclear: whether the simple oblong block now in place, or a raised stone platform atop which one or 359 more gravemarkers were installed. The former seems more likely, for a threefold pilgrimage to Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband came to be regarded as equivalent to one performance of the hajj, and the creation of an architectural similarity to the Ka‘ba, 360 vague but suggestive, may well have been part of that process. The dakhma at

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Khâlidiyya in Tâlish (Northwest Iran),” Journal of the History of Sufism V (2007), p. 182. O.A. Sukhareva, Bukhara XIX-Nachalo XX v. (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo “Nauka”: 1966), p. 38; Thierry Zarcone, “Le mausolée de Bahauddin Naqshband à Bukhara (Uzbekistan – C.E.I.),” Journal of Turkish Studies XIX (1995), p. 240. Such was – and continues to be the case – with the shrine attributed to Imâm ‘Alî in Mazâr-i Sharîf; see ‘Abd al-Ghaffâr Safâ and Muhammad Yûnus Sâkâ’î, Rawza-yi Sharîf-i Shâh-i Wilâyat-ma’âb (Peshawar: Anjuman-i Hifz-i Mîrâs-i Farhangî-yi Afghânistân, 1378/1999), pp. 37-38. Mu‘în al-Fuqarâ, Târîkh-i Mullâzâda, pp. 17, 46, 66-68. Dakhma serves as designation for the walled platform, surmounted with tombstones, beneath which ‘Ubayd Allâh Ahrâr and his immediate descendants are buried in Samarkand; and also for a similar structure at Dahbîd housing the remains of Makhdûm-i A‘zam and members of his lineage. Other meanings of dakhma include “a subterranean chamber where the dead are stored; a sarcophagus; a place where the Zoroastrians dispose of their dead” (Muhammad Husayn b. Khalaf Tabrîzî, Burhân-i Qâti‘, ed. Muhammad Mu‘în [Tehran: Kitâbkhâna-yi Zuwwâr, 1330/1951], I, p. 827), as well as a burial cellar, a sepulchral cave, such as that wherein Darius I was interred, a platform for cremating the dead, and in general, any casket or coffin (‘Alî Akbar Dihkhudâ, Lughatnâma, XIX [Tehran: Dânishgâh-i Tihrân, 1340/1961], pp. 289-290). Hermann Vámbéry, Geschichte Bocharas oder Transoxaniens von den frühesten Zeiten bis auf die Gegenwart (Stuttgart: Verlag der J. G. Cotta’schen Buchhandlung, 1872), I, p. 229; V.A. Gordlevskii, “Bakhauddin Nakshbend Bukharskii: k voprosu o nasloeniiakh v islame,” in Izbrannye Sochineniia (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo Vostochnoi Literatury, 1962), III, p. 369. It is, perhaps, noteworthy that only these two European authors and those who cite them report a belief in three pilgrimages to Bahâ’ al-Dîn being equal to one

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Qasr-i ‘Ârifân is, of course, oblong, not square like the Ka‘ba, and it is not nearly as high, but the two structures are not entirely dissimilar in shape. Other features intended to facilitate the illusion of equivalence are the sang-i murâd (“stone of desire”), lovingly embraced by the pilgrim as analogue of the Black Stone set in the corner of the Ka‘ba; a functionless stone protuberance on one corner of the structure that calls to mind the Mîzâb al-Rahma, the golden rain spout set in the northwest side of the Ka‘ba; and the saqqâkhâna, a domed well meant to be reminiscent 361 of the well of Zamzam, which was similarly domed in pre-Saudi times. Most important of all for the intended resemblance between ziyârat and hajj is, however, 362 the rite of tawâf (circumabulation) that is performed around the dakhma. Several explanations can be advanced for having a threefold ziyârat to Qasr-i ‘Ârifân serve as an imitative substitute for the hajj. One, of course, is the posthumous diffusion of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband’s fame as his order spread far and wide; ‘Abd Allâh Nidâ’î describes as follows the throng of devotees he encountered at Qasr-i ‘Ârifân: “At that blessed shrine, I witnessed scholars and gnostics, lovers and sheykhs, coming in great crowds, multitudes and droves to visit the pîr. Some were busy with their supplications, others were engaged in reciting the Quran, and others again were sunk in introspective meditation. All, in short, were engaged in hajj; the notion must rest, then, on a purely oral tradition. Considerably more extreme than the claims made for Qasr-i ‘Ârifân are Shi‘ite traditions which assert that the shrine of Imâm Husayn at Karbala was made sacred 24,000 years before the Ka‘ba and that had it not been for the Imam and his martyrdom there would have been no purpose in creating the Ka‘ba. See Mahmoud Ayoub, Redemptive Suffering in Islam: A Study of the Devotional Aspects of ‘Āshūrā’ in Twelver Shi‘ism (The Hague: Mouton, 1978), pp. 181-182. Certain traditions, questionably attributed to one or other of the Imams, even suggest that one pilgrimage to Karbala is fully equivalent to a peformance of the hajj (see Muhammad Bâqir Majlisi, Bihâr al-Anwâr, XCVIII, p. 31), but this belief seems rarely if ever to have resulted in actual abandonment by Shi‘is of the supreme devotional journey that is unquestionably incumbent on all Muslims. 361 Legend has it that Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband, while returning from the hajj, had a vision of the Prophet Abraham mounted on a white cloud and bearing a stone earthwards. Back home, he found the selfsame stone lying next to his mother’s tomb and he proceeded to install it at the entrance to his home, in accordance with instructions received from Abraham (Zarcone, “Le mausolée de Baha al-Din Nakshband,” p. 241, n. 54). The story is reminiscent, by obvious design, of traditions concerning the Black Stone: its origins in Paradise, its temporary lodging on Mt. Abû Qubays, and its installation in the Ka‘ba by Abraham (see Sa‘îd Bakdâsh, Fadl al-Hajar al-Aswad wa Maqâm Ibrâhîm [Medina: n.p., 1416/1996]). On the history of the shrine of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband, see N. Yuldoshev and H. Qurbonov, Bukhoro shahri va uning atrofidagi ziyoratgohlar torikhi (Bukhara: Bukhoro Nashriyoti, 2001), p. 82. 362 Such circumambulation of a tomb is not restricted to the case of Qasr-i ‘Ârifân. ‘Abd Allâh Nidâ’î (concerning whom see p. 32-33 above) records participating in tawâf at the tomb of Hidâyat Allâh Kâshgharî in the course of his travels. (Unpaginated manuscript of Risâla-yi Haqqîya acquired by the present writer in Samarkand in 2007; this detail is not to be found in Güller Nuhoğlu’s edition of the text).

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some form of devotion.” The vast distances that separate Central Asia from the Hijaz, together with the difficulties and the expenditure of time historically involved in traversing them, must have dissuaded many who aspired to making the hajj. True, the Quran qualifies the obligatory nature of the hajj by declaring it a duty “for those who have means for the journey” (li man istatâ‘a ilayhi sabîlan: 3:97), but the exemption this implies still left unmet a widespread and persistent longing for a journey to the House of God: hence the popularity of an alternative site of allegedly comparable although lesser sanctity, close at hand and relatively easy of access. Another factor of convenience was that ziyârat to Qasr-i ‘Ârifân might be undertaken at any time in the year, as opposed to the hajj, the performance of which is restricted to the first ten days of Dhû al-Hijja. What may be called the relativisation of the Ka‘ba, particularly marked in early Sufism, whereby the purified human heart is declared to be the true House of God and the Ka‘ba, nothing but bricks and mortar, may also have played a role in Bukhara’s acquiring a re364 flection of Meccan sanctity. Material motives can also not be excluded: the regular afflux of visitors to his shrine was a source of revenue for the rulers of Bukhara 365 and of income for its merchants and beggars alike. 363 Hamid Algar, “From Kashghar to Eyüp,” p. 8. 364 See Necdet Tosun’s contribution on this theme to the present volume. 365 For other Central Asian cases of supposed equivalence, fractional or complete, between hajj and ziyârat, see Thierry Zarcone, “Zīyāra: 6, The Turkish Lands, including the Balkans and Central Asia,” p. 534, and his contribution to the present volume. Instances also abound in other regions. At a number of locations in Syria, the fallacy has often involved the reverential kissing of a headstone, the circumambulation of a tomb, and the offering of sacrifices, all of these practices designed to mimic the hajj. They were severely condemned by Hanbalî scholars such as Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya (d. 751/1350); see Josef W. Meri, The Cult of Saints among Muslims and Jews in Medieval Syria (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 134-137. An especially curious example is provided by the mountain in the Şırnak province of southeastern Turkey, some fifteen kilometres from the Iraqi border, which is thought to be the Mt. Jûdî where the Quran (11:44) reports Noah’s ark came to rest once the deluge subsided. A sevenfold ziyârat to the collection of iron and wooden detritus preserved atop its peak is locally regarded as equivalent to one performance of the hajj. This mountain is plainly not the Mt. Ararat identified by Christians (excluding, however, Nestorians, who are of one mind with Muslim tradition in this respect) as the resting place of the ark. It is therefore curious that a period in the Christian calendar, namely the first three weeks of July, should be the time set aside for this high-value ziyârat; it is then that bonfires are lit to announce the beginning of the season and to guide the pilgrims as they climb to the summit. See Hikmet Tanyu, “Cûdî Dağı,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, VIII, pp. 79-80, and Nihat Aytürk and Bayram Altan, Türkiye’de Dini Ziyaret Yerleri, p. 318. Another ziyârat sometimes regarded as a hajj substitute and synchronised with the Christian calendar is the annual trek by Muslims from all over Bosnia to a rock near the River Vrbas known as Ajvatovica; departure is timed to ensure arrival on June 15. The rock in question was supposedly split asunder during the early years of Ottoman

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The extreme reverence shown to the shrine of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband came under criticism from early twentieth century Jadidist authors, both Central Asian and Tatar, and likeminded intellectuals. ‘Abd al-Ra’ûf Fitrat of Bukhara (d. 1938) held the pseudo-shaykhs who swarmed around the shrine responsible for perpetuating the superstitions associated with it, while Muhammad Zahir Bigiev, a Tatar, took particular issue with the maddâhân who recited eulogies of Bahâ’ al-Dîn in 366 return for cash from the pilgrims. In somewhat milder vein, Zeki Velidi Togan criticised his mother and father for treating an acquaintance just returned from a 367 prolonged stay at the shrine with the respect due only to one back from the hajj. Far harsher condemnations of ziyârat in all of its forms were to follow in the Soviet period, but in their repetitiveness they can be interpreted as a tribute to the resili368 ence of this mode of popular devotion. It is possible even that the impossibility of

dominion, in answer to the prayers of a certain Ajvaz Dede (hence its name), who wished to facilitate the flow of water to the city of Prusac (=Akhisar), or alternatively to its citadel. Either on their way to Ajvatovica or on their return journey, participants also visit the tomb of Ajvaz Dede in Prusac, as well as other noteworthy personages buried there. Ajvatovica has sometimes been designated as “the poor man’s Ka‘ba”, and the pilgrimage to it as “the little hajj” (mali hadž). It may once have served, then, as a substitute exertion for those unable to afford a journey to the Haramayn. Features facilitating the illusion of equivalence included, perhaps, the miraculous provision of water, somewhat akin to the discovery of the well of Zamzam; the attention given to a rock, albeit one vastly inferior in sanctity to the Black Stone; and the visitation of graves in Prusac, analogous to the days pilgrims spend in Medina either before or after the hajj. More recently, the ziyârat to Ajvatovica has served above all as an occasion for the collective self-assertion of the Bosnian Muslim community in the face of the Serb project of genocide. The notion of hajj-equivalence is not, however, entirely extinct; hence the need for its refutation, as is apparent from postings on www.islambosna.ba/forum/zanimljivosti-i-ostalo/ajvatovica/ 15. See N. Clayer and A. Popovic, “Le culte d’Ajvatovica et son pèlerinage annuel” in H. Chambert-Loir and C. Guillot, Le Culte des Saints dans le Monde Musulman (Paris: École française d’Extrême-Orient, 1995), pp. 353-365. For a description of the Ajvatovica pilgrimage of 2006, see Sibel Eraslan, “Ayvaz Dede’nin peşinde,” Vakit (Istanbul), July 1, 2006, p. 3. 366 Thierry Zarcone, “Un aspect de la polémique autour du soufisme dans le monde tatar au début du XXe siècle: mysticisme et confrérisme chez Mûsâ Djârallâh Bîgî,” in Stéphane A. Dudoignon, Dämir Is’haqov, and Räfyq Möhämmätshin, eds., L’Islam de Russie: Conscience communautaire at autonomie politique chez les Tatars de la Volga et de l’Oural depuis le XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1997), pp. 231-232. 367 Zeki Velidi Togan, Hatıralar (Istanbul: Hikmet Gazetecilik Şirketi, 1969), p. 69. 368 For a detailed listing of pilgrimage sites more or less active during the Soviet period, see Alexandre Bennigsen and S. Enders Wimbush, Mystics and Commissars: Sufism in the Soviet Union (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1985), pp. 115156. Based almost entirely on Soviet sources, this otherwise valuable work is occasionally marred by unsubstantiated invocations of “shamanist influences” and the misidentification of historical personalities and their affiliations.

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making hajj should have enhanced the standing of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband’s 369 shrine as a locally available substitute for the Ka‘ba. The ziyârat to Qasr-i ‘Ârifân, whether or not intended as equivalent to onethird of a hajj, has clearly reemerged in the post-Soviet dispensation. What both Soviet scholars and their Western counterparts designated as the “cult of saints” counted as a form of “unofficial Islam,” beyond the administrative purview of the offi370 cial religious authorities but subject to condemnation by them. In post-Soviet times, it can be said that ziyârat has, on the contrary, become a species of “official Islam.” This became apparent barely two years after the collapse of the Soviet Union. In 1993, on the occasion of the 650th anniversary of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband’s birth – calculated, that is, according to the Christian calendar – official ceremonies were organised at his shrine, with the participation of numerous guests from abroad as well as local dignitaries and select adherents of the tarîqat from Naman371 gan, Andijan, and Khoqand. The principal artery of Bukhara, leading out of the city to Qasr-i ‘Arifân, is now known as Bavaddin Kuchasi. Near the principal entrance to the shrine itself, artlessly restored to remove every trace of the passage of time, stands a commemorative plaque, informing the visitor that “the architectural complex of Bahâ’ al-Dîn was reestablished and restored (qayta barpo etildi va obodonlashtirildi) at the initiative of the first president of the Republic of Uzbek372 istan, Islam Karimov, in October 2003”. The architectural features noted above, plainly intended to suggest a degree of similarity with the Ka‘ba and other fixtures in the Masjid al-Harâm, are all still in place, and it may be that the notion of frac373 tional equivalence between ziyârat and hajj is also still alive. When visiting Bukhara in October 2007, the present writer witnessed a young man and woman dressed in their everyday clothes jogging gently around the oblong granite block in the mild autumnal sun, while another young couple, cigarettes in hand, watched them from a nearby bench. A scene at once touching and comical, and a far cry indeed from the rigours, occasional perils, and deep solemnity of the hajj. 369 Alexandre Bennigsen and S. Enders Wimbush, Muslims of the Soviet Empire: A Guide (Bloomington and Indianapolis: University of Indiana Press, 1986), p. 23. 370 See on this topic the two works of Alexandre Bennigsen previously cited and his Le Soufi et le commissaire: Les Confréries musulmanes en URSS (Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1986), written in collaboration with Chantal Lemercier-Quelquejay. 371 Hayati Bice, İşaret Taşları (Istanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 2006), pp. 154-155. 372 A similarly worded and dated plaque commemorates the restorative labours of Karimov at the shrine of ‘Abd al-Khâliq Ghijduwânî in Ghijduvan. The attention given to the shrines at Qasr-i ‘Ârifân, Ghijduvan and other sites in Uzbekistan does not, of course, amount to a state validation of Sufism as such or of the Naqshbandiyya in particular; as suggested above, it is rather an attempt at the symbolic appropriation of the region’s cultural and spiritual legacy. 373 This is suggested by the regulations delineating permissible forms of devotion that are posted at the site.

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Appendix A 374

Timeline for Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî 1050/1640 Born in Samarkand 1053/1643 Rendered lame by infantile paralysis 1073/1663 Arrived in Sirhind; became murîd of Khwâja Muhammad Ma‘sûm 1074/1664 Travelled to Damascus, Jerusalem, and the Hijaz; performed Hajj for the first time 1074/1664-1077/1667 Spent three years in the Haramayn 1078/1668 Performed Hajj once more 1080/1669-1092/1681 First period of residence in Damascus 1092/1681-1097/1685 First period of residence in Istanbul 1097/1685 Performed Hajj again 1098/1686-1120/1708 Second period of residence in Damascus 1120/1708-1123/1711 Second period of residence in Istanbul 1123/1711-1130/1717 Period of banishment to Bursa 1130/1717-1132/1720 Third period of residence in Istanbul 1132/1720 Died in Istanbul

Appendix B An Iranian Sufi at the Court of Mahmud II If, as shown above, Sunni pilgrims from Central Asia were able to traverse Iran on their way to the Hajj and back, many Iranians elected, in the nineteenth century, to take the same route via Istanbul that had for long been taken by so many Central 375 Asians. One incentive for them was the presence there of an emigre mercantile community, mostly Azerbayjani in its makeup, that grew steadily throughout the nineteenth century. Admittedly, the draw of Istanbul never sufficed to draw large numbers of Iranian pilgrims away from the closer and more convenient route through Iraq, with the opportunities it afforded for visitation of the shrines of the 376 Imams in Najaf, Karbala, and Kâzimayn. It is worth noting, however, that an Iranian Sufi, affiliated with the Ni‘matullâhî order, did pass through Istanbul in the 374 Taken with modifications from Şimşek, Osmanlı’da Müceddidîlik, p. 119. 375 The evidence is to be found in several Hajj-nâmas of the Qâjâr period. See, for example, Abû al-Qâsim Marjânî Â’în-Kalâ’î, Safar-nâma-yi Hajj, and Mîrzâ Mahmûd Khân Mudîr al-Dawla, Tafsîl-i Safar-i Makka-yi Mu‘azzama, printed together in Do Safar-Nâma-yi Hajj, ed. Rasûl Ja‘farîân (Tehran: Markaz-i Tahqîqât-i Hajj, 1387/2008), pp. 32-34, 110-116; and Sayyid Muhammad Rizâ Tabâtabâ’î, Hidâyat al-Hujjâj: Safar-Nâma-yi Makka, ed. Rasûl Ja‘farîân (Qum: Mu’arrikh, 1386/2007), pp. 111-117. 376 It has been estimated that in the second half of the ninteteenth century, with Ottoman-Iranian hostilities finally at a definitive end, fully 100,000 Iranian pilgrims would cross into Iraq to visit the ‘atabât before continuing on to the Hijaz. See Rasûl Ja‘farîân, “Hajj-guzârî-yi Îrânîân dar dawra-yi Qâjâr,” Maqâlât-i Târîkhî (Qum: Intishârât-i Dalîl, 1990), VIII, p. 181.

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nineteenth century. This was Hâjî Zayn al-‘Âbidîn Shîrwânî “Mast‘alîshâh” (d. 1837), received at the Ottoman court by Mahmud II in 1814. Unlike ‘Abd al-Latîf Jâmî and Hazînî, he was not in search of patronage, and it was supposedly the sultan himself who took the initiative in establishing contact. Mahmud asked him what madhhab he followed and what tarîqat he professed. His evasive reply was that he adhered to “the madhhab of the Messenger of God and the tarîqat of the most pious (aslah) of the umma [meaning, presumably, Imâm ‘Alî]”. Evidently unsatisfied, Sultan Mahmud repeated the question, and Hâjî Zayn al-‘Âbidîn owned to being “a murîd of Sayyid Ni‘matullâh Kirmânî.” The name was unknown to the sultan, so he asked one of the courtiers on hand whether there was any Ni‘matullâhî tekke in Istanbul. The answer came back that such an institution had existed until the downfall of the Safavid state in the reign of Shâh Sultân Husayn, at which time it passed into the hands of the Naqshbandîs. Sultan Mahmud offered to have the tekke in question vacated and placed at the disposal of Hâjî Zayn al-‘Âbidîn, only for him to spurn the offer: “May the fair visage of your imperial state be adorned with the beauteous mole of eternity! This pauper cannot take up 377 residence in any land; his inclination is to motion and travel.” His eighteen years of ceaseless wandering, recorded in a trio of travelogues, were, however, about to come to an end. From Istanbul he made his way back to Iran, where he confronted a series of perils until both his safety and his prosperity were guaranteed by the ascension to the throne in 1834 of Muhammad Shâh Qâjâr, a ruler well-disposed to the Sufis. Three years later, Hâjî Zayn al-‘Âbidîn set out on the hajj, but he died en 378 route without attaining his goal.

377 Hâjjî Zayn al-‘Âbidîn Shîrwânî, Bûstân al-Siyâha (Tehran: Kitâbkhâna-yi Sanâ’î, n.d.), pp. 440-441. It is unlikely that a Ni‘matullâhî tekke ever existed in Istanbul, and still more improbable that it should have enjoyed the support of the Safavid rulers, as implied by the courtier. Even before the rise of the Safavids, the order had transferred all its operations from Iran to the Deccan, not reappearing in its original homeland until late in the eighteenth century. The courtier’s story of a transfer from Ni‘matullâhî to Naqshbandî management may have been suggested by what befell the tekkes of the Bektaşi order, precisely in the reign of Mahmud II. Remarkable in Hâjî Zayn al-‘Âbidîn’s account of Istanbul is the highly positive tone he employs when summarizing the history of the Ottomans. 378 Richard Gramlich, Die schiitischen Derwischorden Persiens: erster Teil, die Affiliationen (Wiesbaden: Abhandlungen für die Kunde des Morgenlandes, XXXVI,1), pp. 50-53.

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Hajj from the Sufi Point of View

Necdet Tosun Sufis have long used the medium of poems and learned speeches to express the view that hajj, or pilgrimage to Mecca, is not only an obligation to God, and that it should above all be performed out of love for Allah. There are deeper meanings inherent in the hajj rituals for Sufis. They emphasize the importance of understanding the symbolic meaning of the rituals associated with hajj, and hold that the performance of pilgrimage should deliver a person to moral and spiritual maturity. Although most pilgrims have transformative experiences, as Victor Turner has docu1 mented in his study of the liminality of communitas, many Sufis at “God’s House” have the ultimate transformative experience, the experience of God. Within Sufi circles, however, there has long been a multitude of views towards pilgrimage. Some Sufis narrated anecdotes implying that appeasing the needs of the poor is more important than going on hajj. Others debated whether the Ka‘ba or the human being has a higher ontological state, and others wrote at length about the importance of hajj as an opportunity for divine inspiration. In this paper, I shall examine a few of these views.

Hajj According to Sufis Sufis consider that worship consists not just of performing prayer, fasting, giving alms and going on hajj, but also of achieving spiritual advancement and moral maturity. The goal of a Sufi is not unconscious worship, but mystical knowledge of Allah (‘irfân). An Anatolian Sufi, Niyâzî Mısrî (d. 1694) states this view in one of his poems as follows: Savm u salât u hac ile Sanma biter zâhid işin İnsan-ı kâmil olmaya Lâzım olan irfân imiş With fasting, prayer and pilgrimage Don’t think, O ascetic, your duty ends To become a perfect human man Only ‘irfân is needed

1

Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (Chicago: Aldine Transaction, 1995).

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― To have a place in someone’s heart (To win someone’s heart) Sufis insist that people’s performance of hajj and other rituals should not be at the expense of their societal duties. They regard as un-meritorious the individual who performs pilgrimage having abandoned his poor neighbours or elderly parents at home. The most significant creation in the universe is the human being: the duty to help other people is thus a crucial one. This view is widely expressed in Sufi literature. An illustrative anecdote is as follows: After performing his hajj, ‘Abd Allâh b. Mubârak (d. 797) had a dream in Mecca. In his dream, two angels descended from the heaven, and one of them told the other: “This year six hundred thousand people had performed hajj. Their collective hajj was no more meritorious than the actions of ‘Alî b. Muwaffaq, who was a shoemaker in Damascus. ‘Alî intended to go to hajj, but was unable to. The hajj of all these other pilgrims has been accepted for the sake of his one deed.” When ‘Abd Allâh b. Mubârak woke up, he was amazed and wondered the meaning of his dream. He went to Damascus by caravan. He found [‘Alî b. Muwaffaq], and asked: “What did you do instead of going to hajj?” ‘Alî b. Muwaffaq explained: “I have been yearning to go to hajj for 30 years. I have saved 300 dirhams from repairing shoes. I intended to go to hajj. My pregnant wife told me that meat smell was coming from the neighbour, and she asked me if I could go and ask some meat from the neighbour. I went to my neighbour, and explained the situation. My neighbour started to cry, and he (or she) said: “My children have hungry for the last seven days. I have found a carcass on my way, and cut a piece of it. Now I am cooking that piece and trying to comfort my children. If I cannot find some permissible (halâl) food, I will be compelled feed them with this. If you want, I could give it to you: but while this meat is permissible for my children, for they face death by hunger, it is forbidden to you.” “When I heard this”, said ‘Alî b. Muwaffaq, “I felt so sad that I gave all the money to him. And I prayed to my Lord: “O my Lord! Please accept my hajj intention.” Thereupon ‘Abd Allâh b. Mubârak said “My Lord in2 formed me the truth in my dream.” Another anecdote about how helping people and winning their hearts is more 3 rewarding than the voluntary hajj is as follows: A man from Fergana used to go on voluntary hajj every year. When he was passing by Nishapur, he entered the presence of Abû ‘Uthmân Hîrî (d. 910) and greeted him. However Hîrî failed to respond to his greetings. While the man was wondering why he did not respond to his greetings, and what a strange situation this was, Abû ‘Uthmân Hîrî started to talk: “How can such a hajj be performed? Mother is sick and left alone at home, and 2 3

Farîd al-Dîn ‘Attâr, Tadhkirat al-Awliyâ, ed. Muhammad Isti‘lâmî (Tehran: Intishârât-i Zuvvâr, 1995), pp. 214-215. For Muslims who can afford to go to hajj, only one such pilgrimage is required in a lifetime: any subsequent such performance is voluntary and superogatory.

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the hajj journey has started without her consent.” The man said: “I recognised my mistake, and I regretfully turned back to my mother. I served my mother until she passed away. After her death, I set off to perform hajj. On my way, I visited Abû ‘Uthmân Hîrî again. This time he joyfully and respectfully welcomed me. Then I 4 joined among his pupils.” An Anatolian Sufi, Yunus Emre (d. 1320) expresses a similar view in his poetry: Ak sakallu pîr hoca Bilemez hâli nice Emek yimesün hacca 5 Bir gönül yıkar ise The white bearded sage Who does not know what his state is Should not exert much for hajj If he breaks a heart Yûnus Emre der hoca Gerekse var bin hacca Hepisinden eyice 6 Bir gönüle girmektir! Yunus Emre says O sage If you perform thousand hajjs Better than all of them Is to win a heart (To go into a heart)

According to Yunus Emre and other Sufis who take a similar view, to have a place in someone’s heart, in other words to help someone and gain his heart and make him happy, is more valuable than a thousand unconscious performances of hajj. ― Circumambulation of the soul’s Ka‘ba Even though the Ka‘ba is symbolically called the house of Allah, the Islamic faith holds that Allah does not occupy physical space, and that no enclosure can contain Him. According to Sufi teachings, God looks fondly upon the human heart, and it is only though their hearts that human beings can know Allah. For that reason, the expression that “I do not fit in to the world and heaven, but I fit into the heart of 7 my believing servant” has been frequently repeated in Sufi literature. This saying 4 5 6 7

‘Abd al-Karîm Qushayrî, Al-Risâla al-Qushayriyya, ed. Ma‘rûf Zarrîq and ‘Alî ‘Abd alHamîd Baltajî (Beirut: Dâr al-Jayl, 1990), p. 240. Yunus Emre, Yûnus Emre Dîvânı, ed. Mustafa Tatcı (Istanbul: Milli Eğitim Bakanlığı Yayınları, 1997), vol. II, p. 386. Yunus Emre, Yûnus Emre Dîvânı, vol. II, p. 148. The tradition of “Worlds and Heavens could not contain me in, but my servant’s believ-

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means “none of the creation can truly know and comprehend me, but only Insân al-Kâmil or a Perfect Human can grasp me by his heart or high perception capability.” Starting from this notion, Sufis ascribed special importance to the human being, and to the human heart or soul. ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî (d. 1492) says in this regard: Ka‘ba bunyâd-i Khalîl-i Âzar ast Dil nazargâh-i Jalîl-i Akbar ast Ka‘ba is the building of Ibrâhîm son of Âzar Heart is, on the other hand, where Allah Almighty’s place of sight An Anatolian Sufi says: Ararsan Mevlâ’yı kalbinde ara Kudüs’te, Mekke’de, hacda değildir If you look for the God, look for Him in your heart Not in Jerusalem, in Mecca, nor at hajj

In one of his odes, Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî (d. 1273) says: “O Pilgrims! Where 8 are you? Where are you? Your lover is here, come here, come here!” This is because, according to Sufis, the heart of the person who knows Allah (‘ârif) is the house of Allah, or Ka‘ba. For this reason, visiting Insân al-Kâmil is as important a duty as going to hajj. The couplet by Mawlânâ’s son Sultân Walad, which hangs on the wall of Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Din’s tomb, expresses the same idea: Yak tawâf-i marqad-i Sultân-i Mawlânâ-yi Mâ Haft hazâr u haft sad u haftâd hajj-i akbar ast Visiting Our Sultan Mawlana’s tomb just once Is similar to performing hajj-i akbar 7,770 times

According to a Sufi anecdote mentioned in Shams al-Tabrîzî’s Maqâlât, Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî’s Mathnawî and several other Sufi books, Bâyazîd Bistâmî (d. 848) was on his way to perform hajj. He stopped by an old Sufi saint in Basra. Sufi asked him: “O Bâyazîd, where are you going?” Bâyazîd replied: “To Mecca. To visit the house of Allah”. The Sufi asked: “How much money do you have for the trip?” “200 dirhams”, Bâyazîd replied. The Sufi said: “Stand up, and circle around me seven times and give me the money.” Bâyazîd immediately stood up, and left his purse in front of the Sufi. The Sufi continued: “The place you were headed is the house of

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ing, pure, and sinless heart covered and contained me” is considered a Holy tradition (Hadith Qudsi) by the Sufis. For details, see Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî, Dîwân-i Kabîr, ed. B. Furûzânfar (Tehran: Mu’assasa-yi Intishârât-i Amîr-i Kabîr, 2005), p. 274 (ode no. 648).

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Allah, but my heart is also the house of Allah. God Almighty owns both that house and this house. After He built that house (the Ka‘ba), He never dwelled there. However after He built this house (=my heart), (by his love and sight) He never left 9 it.” ― Is the Ka‘ba or the human being superior? The saying attributed to the Prophet Muhammad: “The believer has higher rank 10 than the Ka‘ba” illustrates how the above question has long in a matter of concern for Muslims. When considered not as a mere object but as an embodiment of reality and truth, however, the Ka‘ba might be conceptualised somewhat differently. In the early seventeenth century, for instance, the Indian Sufi Ahmad Sirhindî, otherwise known as Imâm-i Rabbânî (d. 1624), expressed the view that 11 “the Truth of the Ka‘ba is superior to the truth of Muhammad”. This opinion, however, was later much contested. Ahmad Qushâshî (d. 1661) directly criticised Ahmad Sirhindî, writing a book where he argued that believers were superior to 12 the Ka‘ba. Muhammad Amîn Badakhshî subsequently responded with a work in Persian titled Al-Mufâwaza (or Al-Mufâzala) bayn al-insân wa al-Ka‘ba, in which 13 he defended the views of Ahmad Sirhindî against Qushâshî. Muhammad Sa‘îd Sirhindî (d. 1660), son of Ahmad Sirhindî, wrote a letter seeking to establish the 14 superiority of the truth of the Ka‘ba over the truth of Muhammad. It is also reported that Muhammad Yahyâ (d. 1684), another son of Ahmad Sirhindî, wrote a com15 prehensive book as a response to the criticisms.

9 10 11 12

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Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî, Mathnawî, ed. Tawfîq H. Subhânî (Tehran: Intishârât-i Ravzana, 1991), pp. 241-243 (vol. II, verse no. 2218-2251). Ibn Mâjah, Fitan, 2. See Ahmad Sirhindî, Mabda’ wa Ma‘âd (Karachi: Idâra-yi Mujaddidiyya, 1968), p. 72; idem, Maktûbât (Karachi: Idâra-yi Mujaddidiyya, 1972), vol. III, pp. 586-588 (no. 124). This Arabic work can perhaps be identified as Asrâr al-manâsik: see Sikandarpûrî, Anwâr-i Ahmadiyya (Delhi: 1891), p. 87). ‘Abd Allâh Khîshaghî Qusûrî (d. 1695) quoted all of this book in his Ma‘ârij al-Walâyat. See ‘Abd Allâh Khîshaghî Qusûrî, Ma‘ârij al-Walâyat fi Madârij al-Hidâyat, Persian MS (Lahore: Punjab University Library, Âzar, no. H-25/ 7765), ff. 606a-646a. For the manuscript form of the work, see Ahmad Munzawî, Fihrist-i mushtarak-i nuskhahâ-yi khattî-yi fârsî-yi Pâkistân (Islamabad: Markaz-i Tahqîqât-i Fârsî-yi Îrân wa Pâkistân, 1984), vol. III, 1959-1960. For the author Badakhshî, see Muhammad Iqbâl Mujaddidî, “Badakhshî, Muhammad Amîn,” in Dânishnâma-i Jahân-i Islâm (Tehran: Bunyâd-i Dâirat al-Ma‘ârif-i Islâmî, 1996), B-II, pp. 476-7; Ghulâm ‘Alî Âryâ, “Badakhshî, Muhammad Amîn,” in Dâirat al-Ma‘ârif-i Buzurg-i Islâmî (Tehran: Markaz-i Dâirat al-Ma‘ârif-i Buzurg-i Islâmî, 2002), vol. XI, p. 525. Muhammad Sa‘îd Sirhindî, Maktûbât-i Sa‘îdiyya (Lahore: Maktaba-i Hakîm Sayfî, 1965), pp. 127-129 (no. 68). ‘Abd Allâh Dihlawî, Maqâmât-i Mazhariyya (Istanbul: Hakikat Kitabevi, 1993), p. 128; Munzawî, Fihrist, III, p. 1969.

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Muhammad b. Fadl (d. 329/940), one of the early-period Sufis, said: “If it is required to visit a stone upon which Allah looks only once a year, then visiting the 16 heart, upon which Allah looks 360 times a day, is a worthier obligation.” Ismâ‘îl Haqqî Bursawî (d. 1137/1725) states that “there are two groups of pilgrims in the world: One visits the house (i.e. the Ka‘ba). This group should go to the house. The other group visits the Lord of the house (That is to say they visit Allah). For this group, the Ka‘ba comes to them. Because, even though the house is mazhar al-kamâl, or the place where perfection is observed, it is not like Insân alKâmil. Because Insân al-Kâmil’s dignity is in the heart, and the heart is Bayt Allâh (House of Allah); as for the Ka‘ba, meanwhile, it is Bayt al-Khalq (a house built by 17 humans).

The Spiritual Meaning of Hajj in Sufism A Turkish proverb runs as follows: “A camel will not be a pilgrim just by going to Mecca; a donkey will not be a dervish just by carrying water to the dervish lodge.” Since any camel travelling to Mecca does so unconsciously, it cannot be regarded as a pilgrim; nor, the proverb suggests, can people be regarded as pilgrims who perform their hajj in unthinking imitation of others, and who are not aware of the hajj’s spiritual symbolism. In the section of his book Al-Luma‘ entitled “Sufis’ manners of hajj”, the author Abû Nasr al-Sarrâj al-Tûsî (d. 988) discusses the spiritual and mystical meaning of the hajj as follows: While a pilgrim is taking off his daily clothes at the place of mîqât, where he puts on ihrâm or pilgrimage clothes, he should also take hate and envy out off his heart. When he prays saying “Labbayk” (I submit to your order), he determines not to follow the Satan and the self (ego). After he greets and kisses the hajar al-aswad, or the black stone, he imagines that he is giving a promise of servitude to Allah. When he comes to hill of Safâ, he decides not to let anything impure into his heart. When he rushes between the Safâ and Marwa hills (harwala), he thinks he is running from the self and Satan. When he comes to the hill of ‘Arafât, he thinks about the day of resurrection, and the day he will meet Allah. While he is cutting his hair, he should also cut his pride and desires for praise. And while he is slaughtering an offering, he should also slaughter his self (i.e. anni18 hilate evil habits of the self).

16 17 18

‘Alî b. ‘Uthmân Hujwîrî, Kashf al-Mahjûb, ed. Mahmûd ‘Âbidî (Tehran: Intishârât-i Sadâ wa Sîmâ, 2005), p. 480. İsmâil Hakkı Bursevî, Kitâbü’n-Netîce, ed. Ali Namlı and İmdat Yavaş (Istanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 1997), vol. I, p. 379. Al-Sarrâj Al-Tûsî, Al-Luma‘ fî al-Tasawwuf, ed. ‘Abd al-Halîm Mahmûd and Tâhâ ‘Abd al-Bâqî Surûr (Cairo: Dâr al-Kutub al-Hadîtha, 1960), pp. 227-229. The text has been translated into English by R.A. Nicholson and into German by R. Gramlich.

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According to Imâm Muhammad Ghazâlî (d. 1111), when a person prepares provisions for his trip, he should also think about piety, which is the most valuable provision in the afterlife. Similarly, when the pilgrim embarks on his journey, he should think about the coffin in which he will be placed when he dies; when he dons the two pieces of white ihrâm clothes, he should think about his grave clothes; after putting on ihrâm, when he says Labbayk (I submit to your order), he should think about his submission to Allah’s order to come to that certain place; when he sees the Ka‘ba, he should show respect as if he sees Allah; when he circumambulates the Ka‘ba, he should think about the angels circling around the Heavens and showing their respect to Allah in that way; when he greets the hajar al-aswad and touches it, he should imagine that he is shaking hands with Allah, and promising Allah not to break His orders; when he is running between the hills of Safâ and Marwa near the Ka‘ba, he should have two thoughts in his mind, first, to feel himself like the person who presented his petition to the sultan and started to wait excitedly outside the palace without knowing if his requests will be accepted or not, and, secondly, to think about the two sides of the scale which will weigh his good and evil deeds on the day of judgment, perhaps regarding the hill of Safâ as the good deeds side and the hill of Marwa as the evil deeds side, and then should run between the hills checking which side will get heavier; and when he stands on the hill of ‘Arafât, he should think about the day when everybody will gather and 19 wait for the Prophet’s intercession. Ismâ‘îl Anqarawî (d. 1631) divides hajj into two: sûrî, or manifest, and ma‘nawî, or spiritual. He states that it is the spiritual hajj to which Sufis should as20 pire. Similarly, when discussing the Ka‘ba Bâbâ Ni‘mat Allâh Nakhjiwânî (d. 1514) distinguishes between the sûrî (the apparent Ka‘ba) and the haqîqî (the real 21 Ka‘ba). Nakhjiwânî also compares ihrâm with the grave clothes: “Just as a person already wearing his grave clothes can not commit sins”, he writes, “so should a pil22 grim wearing ihrâm willingly and intentionally stay away from the prohibitions”. According to Nakhjiwânî, the goal of the real hajj is to reach the true Ka‘ba, which 23 is to say the essence of Allah. Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî says: “Hajj is visiting a house, or the Ka‘ba. Visiting the owner of the house is the true manliness. That 24 kind of visit does not fall to every servant’s privilege.” This matter is very well summarised by the following mystical verse:

19 20 21 22 23 24

Imâm Muhammad Ghazâlî, Ihyâ’ ‘Ulûm al-Dîn (Beirut: Dâr al-Khayr, 1990), vol. I, pp. 352-359. Ismâ‘îl Anqaravî, Minhâj al-Fuqarâ’ (Istanbul: 1840), pp. 112-113. Nakhjiwânî, Al-Favâtih al-Ilâhiyya, (Istanbul: Matbaa-i Osmâniya, 1907), vol. I, p. 58. Nakhjiwânî, Al-Favâtih, vol. I, p. 67. Quran 18:10; Nakhjiwânî, Al-Favâtih, vol. I, p. 119. Rûmî, Mathnawî, vol. IV, verse no. 15.

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O my love! My hajjs and ‘umras are all for You 25 Although others’ hajjs are to earth and the stones.

Bâyazîd Bistâmî says: “On my first hajj, I saw nothing but the house (Ka‘ba). On my second hajj, I saw both the house and the Owner of the house. However, on my 26 third hajj, I saw everything as the Owner of the house (Lord of the Ka‘ba).” According to one narrative, Junayd Baghdâdî (d. 910) saw a friend returning from hajj. They had the following conversation. Junayd asked: -Did you intend for hajj and put on ihrâm? -Yes, I did. -Did you thus break all the pledges which run contrary to your eternal pledge (your promise given to Allah)? -No, I did not. -Then you did not give your pledge. Did you strip off your clothes? -Yes, I did. - And did you strip off all human attributes, just as you stripped off your clothes? -No, I did not. -Then you did not really put on ihrâm. After that did you take a shower and clean yourself? -Yes, I did. -By means of that shower, did your illnesses (spiritual illnesses like immorality) get better? -No, they did not. -Then you did not clean yourself. Did you say the talbiya (did you pray saying Labbayk)? -Yes, I did. -Did you get a response to your talbiya? -No, I did not. -Then you did not truly say the talbiya. Did you enter the Haram alSharîf? -Yes, I did. -When you enter the Haram al-Sharîf, did you give up prohibitions? -No, I did not. -Then you did not enter the Haram al-Sharîf. Did you see Mecca? -Yes, I did. -When you saw Mecca, did a spiritual state come down to you from Allah? 25 26

“Ilayka yâ munyatî hajjî wa mu‘tamarî / In hajja qawmun ilâ turâbin wa ahjâri”. See Ahmad Sihrindî, Maktûbât, vol. I, p. 54 (no.22). Hujwîrî, Kashf al-Mahjûb, p. 481.

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-No, it did not. 27 -Then it did not happen either…

Continuing thus for some while, this question-and-answer episode elegantly expresses the views held by Sufis such as Shaykh Shiblî regarding the spiritual meaning of hajj. The Ottoman scholar and Sufi Yûnus Wahbî Efendî (d. 1913) states in his Asrâr-i Manâsik-i Hajj-i Sharîf that “the goal of hajj is not just the circumambulation of the body around the Ka‘ba; it is also the heart’s visit to the Lord of the house 28 (Ka‘ba), and its circumambulation around Him.” He later continues: “Stoning Jamras (Satans) represents dismissal of the misgivings from the heart, and removal 29 of the evil voices and unnecessary worldly thoughts of the inner world.”

Sufi Spiritual Experiences during the Hajj Certain Sufis evidently experienced deep spiritual feelings, ecstasy, and divine inspirations during the performance of hajj. Such spiritual experiences are well described in a number of works. One such work is the Futûhât al-Makkiyya, or “Inspirations of Mecca”, by Ibn ‘Arabî (d. 1240). Ibn ‘Arabî relates that a young man calling himself “the reality of the Ka‘ba” came down to him from the direction of hajar al-aswad, and asked Ibn ‘Arabî to read to him, saying “Whatever you see in me, write it down into your work, and teach it to the talented.” Ibn ‘Arabî says that this young man opened up to him the realm of hidden knowledge, that it was thus that he himself wrote the second volume of the Futûhât. Elsewhere in the work, Ibn ‘Arabî relates how the young man being mystically communicated truth to him. When Ibn ‘Arabî asked his interlocutor to show him some of his mysteries, the being told him to circumambulate the Ka‘ba following his foot prints. The two of them circumambulated together seven times, whereupon the boy told him that the building in front of them (the Ka‘ba) was the embodiment of his essence, and that the seven circumambulations constituted his seven essential attributes; during each circumambulation, the 30 boy read out one part of the Futûhât.

27 28

29 30

Hujwîrî, Kashf al-Mahjûb, pp. 481-483; Muhammad Pârsâ, Fasl al-Khitâb, ed. J. Misgarnijâd (Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i Dânishgâhî, 2002), pp. 223-224. Yûnus Wahbî Efendî’s this work is originally written in Arabic and Ottoman Turkish and published twice in 1911 and in 1913. It is also translated into Modern Turkish and published by Veysel Akkaya. See Veysel Akkaya, Sufi Gözüyle Hac ve Umre (Istanbul: Erkam Yayınları), 2006, p. 127. V. Akkaya, Sufi Gözüyle Hac, p. 146. Ibn al-‘Arabî, Al-Futûhât al-Makkiyya, ed. Osman Yahya (Cairo: Al-Hay’at alMisriyyat al-‘Âmma li'l-Kitâb, 1972), vol. I, pp. 47-51; Mahmut Erol Kılıç, “ElFütûhâtü’l-Mekkiyye,” Diyanet İslâm Ansiklopedisi, XIII, p. 251.

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Muhammad Ma‘sûm (d. 1668), son of Ahmad Sirhindî, similarly describes the divine inspirations and revelations which he experienced during the hajj in Hijâz. His accounts were compiled by his son Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh under the title of 31 Hasanât al-Haramayn, and were translated into Ottoman Turkish by Ottoman Sufi Mustaqîmzâda Sulaymân Sa‘d al-Dîn (d. 1787). According to one of his narratives, while Muhammad Ma‘sûm was circumambulating the Ka‘ba, he repeatedly felt that the Ka‘ba was hugging him. During one of the circumambulations, he spir32 itually saw that lights came out of his body and covered the whole world. He saw 33 several angels at the place called Rukn al-Yamânî after the night prayer. One morning while he was performing recollection of Allah (dhikr), he saw that a spiritual cloak was presented to him, and he realised that this cloak was the cloak of 34 servitude (khil‘at al-‘ubûdiyya). Other such stories proliferate. The divine inspirations and revelations of Muhammad Sa‘îd, another son of Ahmad Sirhindî, were compiled by ‘Abd al-Ahad 35 Wahdat Sirhindî under the title of Latâ’if al-Madîna; Shâh Wâlî Allâh Dihlawî (d. 1762) wrote down his own inspirations and revelations in his work Fuyûd al-Hara36 mayn. Similarly, the Ottoman Sufi Ismâ‘îl Haqqî Bursawî wrote of the inspirations and revelations (wâridât) which he experienced in the Haramayn in 1700. Bursawî’s first account of these experiences, in a work entitled the Asrâr al-Hajj, 37 was lost to bandits on the journey back to Bursa. He subsequently redrafted his hajj account in a number of later compositions, notably the Wâridât-i Haqqiyya. In this latter work, Bursawî recounts how one night he was informed by Allah that prophet Elias was in the same line in the prayer, but he did not see him personal38 ly. Another night, while he was circumambulating the Ka‘ba, he was instructed to “Greet the four Caliphs; they are present here right now”, whereupon he greeted 39 them verbally and spiritually, though he did not see them in person. During his visit to the Ka‘ba, he saw a variety of other elevated spirits throughout the day and 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, ed. and Urdu trans. Muhammad Iqbâl Mujaddidî (Lahore: Himâyat-i Islâm Press, 1981). This book is also known as Yawâqît al-Haramayn and Risâlat al-Yâqûtiyya. Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât al-Haramayn, Ottoman Turkish trans. Mustaqîmzâdah, MS Ottoman (Istanbul: Süleymaniye Library, Haji Mahmud Efendi section, no. 2848), f. 6b. Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât, f. 9b. Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh, Hasanât, f. 10a. ‘Abd al-Ahad Wahdat Sirhindî, Latâ’if al-Madîna, ed. M. Iqbâl Mujaddidî (Lahore: Hawza-yi Naqshbandiyya, 2004). Shâh Wâli Allâh Dihlawî, Fuyûd al-Haramayn, ed. Sayyid Zahîruddîn (Delhi: Al-Matba al-Ahmadî, 1890). Arabic text and Urdu translation were published together. Bursawî, Wâridât-i Haqqiyya (Wâridât al-Kubrâ) (Bursa: Bursa Eski Yazma ve Basma Eserler Kütüphanesi, Genel, no. 86), ff. 123a, 175a, 201b. Bursawî, Wâridât, f. 210a. Wâridât, ff. 210a.

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night; he even saw his deceased son Ishâq praying in the lines of performers in 40 Mecca and Medina, and his other deceased son ‘Ubaydullâh – with his eyes kohl41 applied and bedecked in jewelry – sitting near Hatîm. In Sufi literature, it is reported that some Sufis were miraculously able to travel very long distances in very short times. This is called tayy-i makân, or to fold up and shorten the distance. Accounts of such mystical experiences are to be found in 42 anecdotes attributed to Muhammad Khwârizmî (d. 1378), who lived in Central 43 Asia, and the Bursa shoemaker Mehmet Dede (d. 1619).

Conclusion Because the books of Islamic law tend to concern themselves only with the rites and regulations of hajj, pilgrimage can sometimes appear to the observer simply like an elevated form of tourism; we often look in vain for the spiritual dimensions of hajj. Sufis, by contrast, often spoke about the spiritual side of hajj, and tried to highlight the symbolic meaning of pilgrimage rituals in order to fill the gap left by Islamic law books. They composed mystical anecdotes to remind the faithful that he who leaves for the hajj should not thus abandon the needy. Regarding human intellection as the gift whereby man can come to know Allah, they argued that the heart of the wise man is of higher rank than the Ka‘ba itself. And some of them set down in writing those divine inspirations and revelations which they experienced during the course of the pilgrimage.

Bibliography Akkaya,Veysel. Sufi Gözüyle Hac ve Umre. Istanbul: Erkam Yayınları, 2006. Al-Sarrâj Al-Tûsî. Al-Luma‘ fî al-Tasawwuf . Edited by ‘Abd al-Halîm Mahmûd and Tâhâ ‘Abd al-Bâqî Surûr. Cairo: Dâr al-Kutub al-Hadîtha, 1960. Anqaravî, Ismâ‘îl. Minhâj al-Fuqarâ’. Istanbul: 1840. Âryâ, Ghulâm ‘Alî. “Badakhshî, Muhammad Amîn.” In Dâirat al-Ma‘ârif-i Buzurg-i Islâmî. Tehran: Markaz-i Dâirat al-Ma‘ârif-i Buzurg-i Islâmî, 2002, vol. XI. ‘Attâr, Farîd al-Dîn. Tadhkirat al-Awliyâ. Edited by Muhammad Isti‘lâmî. Tehran: Intishârât-i Zuvvâr, 1995. Bursevî, İsmâil Hakkı. Wâridât-i Haqqiyya (Wâridât al-Kubrâ). Bursa: Bursa Eski Yazma ve Basma Eserler Kütüphanesi, Genel, no. 86. Bursevî, İsmâil Hakkı. Kitâbü’n-Netîce. Edited by Ali Namlı and İmdat Yavaş. Istanbul: İnsan Yayınları, 1997. Dihlawî, ‘Abd Allâh. Maqâmât-i Mazhariyya. Istanbul: Hakikat Kitabevi, 1993. 40 41 42 43

Wâridât, ff. 210a, 226b. Wâridât, f. 226b. Mahmûd Cemâleddin Hulvî, Lemezât-ı Hulviyye, ed. M. Serhan Tayşi (Istanbul: Marmara Üniversitesi İlahiyat Fakültesi Vakfı, 1993), pp. 336-337. Ismâ‘îl Balîgh, Guldasta-i Riyâd-i ‘Irfân (Bursa: 1885), p. 223.

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Dihlawî, Shâh Wâli Allâh. Fuyûd al-Haramayn. Edited by Sayyid Zahîruddîn. Delhi: Al-Matba al-Ahmadî, 1890. Emre, Yunus. Yûnus Emre Dîvânı. Edited by Mustafa Tatcı. Istanbul: Milli Eğitim Bakanlığı Yayınları, 1997. Ghazâlî, Imâm Muhammad. Ihyâ’ ‘Ulûm al-Dîn. Beirut: Dâr al-Khayr, 1990. Hujwîrî, ‘Alî b. ‘Uthmân. Kashf al-Mahjûb. Edited by Mahmûd ‘Âbidî. Tehran: Intishârât-i Sadâ wa Sîmâ, 2005. Hulvî, Mahmûd Cemâleddin. Lemezât-ı Hulviyye. Edited by M. Serhan Tayşi. Istanbul: Marmara Üniversitesi İlahiyat Fakültesi Vakfı, 1993. Ibn al-‘Arabî. Al-Futûhât al-Makkiyya. Edited by Osman Yahya. Cairo: Al-Hay’at alMisriyyat al-‘Âmma li'l-Kitâb, 1972. Iqbâl Mujaddidî, Muhammad. “Badakhshî, Muhammad Amîn.” In Dânishnâma-i Jahân-i Islâm. Tehran: Bunyâd-i Dâirat al-Ma‘ârif-i Islâmî, 1996, B-II, pp. 476-7. Khîshaghî Qusûrî, ‘Abd Allâh. Ma‘ârij al-Walâyat fi Madârij al-Hidâyat. Persian MS. Lahore: Punjab University Library, Âzar, no. H-25/7765. Kılıç, Mahmut Erol. “El-Fütûhâtü’l-Mekkiyye.” Diyanet İslâm Ansiklopedisi, XIII. Munzawî, Ahmad. Fihrist-i mushtarak-i nuskhahâ-yi khattî-yi fârsî-yi Pâkistân. Islamabad: Markaz-i Tahqîqât-i Fârsî-yi Îrân wa Pâkistân, 1984. Nakhjiwânî, Ni‘mat Allâh. Al-Favâtih al-Ilâhiyya. Istanbul: Matbaa-i Osmâniya, 1907. Pârsâ, Muhammad. Fasl al-Khitâb. Edited by J. Misgarnijâd. Tehran: Markaz-i Nashr-i Dânishgâhî, 2002. Qushayrî, ‘Abd al-Karîm. Al-Risâla al-Qushayriyya. Edited by Ma‘rûf Zarrîq and ‘Alî ‘Abd al-Hamîd Baltajî, Beirut: Dâr al-Jayl, 1990. Rûmî, Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn. Mathnawî. Edited by Tawfîq H. Subhânî. Tehran: Intishârât-i Ravzana, 1991. Rûmî, Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn. Dîwân-i Kabîr. Edited by B. Furûzânfar. Tehran: Mu’assasa-yi Intishârât-i Amîr-i Kabîr, 2005. Sikandarpûrî. Anwâr-i Ahmadiyya. Delhi: 1891. Sirhindî, ‘Abd al-Ahad Wahdat. Latâ’if al-Madîna. Edited by M. Iqbâl Mujaddidî. Lahore: Hawza-yi Naqshbandiyya, 2004. Sirhindî, Ahmad. Mabda’ wa Ma‘âd. Karachi: Idâra-yi Mujaddidiyya, 1968. Sirhindî, Ahmad. Maktûbât. Karachi: Idâra-yi Mujaddidiyya, 1972. Sirhindî, Muhammad Sa‘îd. Maktûbât-i Sa‘îdiyya. Lahore: Maktaba-i Hakîm Sayfî, 1965. Turner, Victor. The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. Chicago: Aldine Transaction, 1995. ‘Ubayd Allâh, Muhammad. Hasanât al-Haramayn, Ottoman Turkish trans. Mustaqîmzâdah, MS Ottoman. Istanbul: Süleymaniye Library, Haji Mahmud Efendi section, no. 2848. ‘Ubayd Allâh, Muhammad. Hasanât al-Haramayn. Edited and Urdu trans. by Muhammad Iqbâl Mujaddidî. Lahore: Himâyat-i Islâm Press, 1981.

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The Re-opening of Iran to Central Asian Pilgrimage Traffic, 1600–1650

Thomas Welsford

(i) In 1611, Walî Muhammad Khan, the Tûqây-Tîmûrid ruler of Greater Mawarannahr, was forced to abandon his Bukharan stronghold. Fleeing from his nephews Imâm Qulî and Nadir Muhammad, sons of his late brother Dîn Muhammad, Walî Muhammad fled west across the Amu Darya river into Iran. The eighteenth-century historian Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm is one of a num1 ber of chroniclers to offer an account of these events. In the Silsilat al-salâtîn, composed in India in about 1730, he relates the circumstances of Walî Muhammad’s forced departure. Upon acceding to the khanal title at some point around 1605, we read, Walî Muhammad had appointed Imâm Qulî to gubernatorial authority over Samarqand, while Nadir Muhammad received Shahrisabz, moving from there to 2 Balkh a little while later. For the first few years of Walî Muhammad’s reign, Imâm Qulî and Nadir Muhammad behaved themselves well, helping Walî Muhammad crush a series of military challenges in the southeast of the khanate, in the territory 1

2

Central Asian works narrating the episode include (i) Mahmûd b. Amîr Walî, Bahr alasrâr (ca. 1645); references unless stated otherwise to MS British Library I.O. 1496, ff. 76a-89a; (ii) Mullâ Sharaf al-Dîn b. Nûr al-Dîn Âkhûnd Mullâ Farhâd, Târîkh-i Sa‘îd Rakîm (ca. 1645), MS Royal Asiatic Society no. 163, ff. 203b-8a; (iiii) Muhammad Yûsuf al-Munshî b. Khwâja Baqâ Balkhî, Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî (ca. 1705), ed. F. Sarrâfân as Tadhkirah-yi Muqîm Khânî (Tehran: Mirâth-i maktûb, 1380/2001-2), pp. 132-6; (iv) Khwâjam Qulî Bîk Balkhî, Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî (ca. 1726), MS Bodleian Ouseley 184, 185, f. 270a-b; and (v) Hâjj Mîr Muhammad-Salîm, Silsilat al-salâtîn (ca. 1747) MS Bodleian Ouseley 269 ff. 169a-73b. Safavid sources relating the episode include (i) Jalâl al-Dîn Munajjim Yazdî, Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî (ca. 1611), ed. S.-A. Wahîd-niyâ as Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî yâ Rûz-nâma-yi Mullâ Jalâl (Tehran: Intishârât-i wahîd, 1366/1987-8), pp. 4346; (ii) Ahmad b. Shams al-Dîn, Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb (ca. 1615), MS Christ’s Cambridge Dd.4.6, ff. 560a-3a; (iii) Mîrzâ Bîk b. Hasan Junâbâdî, Rawdat al-Safawiyya (ca. 1626), ed. G.-R. Tabâtaba’î Majd (Tehran: Majmû‘a-yi intishârât-i adabî wa târîkhî-yi mawqûfât-i Duktûr Mahmûd Afshâr Yazdî, 1378/1999-2000), p. 830; (iv) Iskandar Bîk Munshî, Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî (ca. 1629), ed. Î. Afshâr (Tehran: Mu’assasa-yi intishârât-i amîr-i kabîr, 1350/1971-2), pp. 832-5; and (v) Malik Shâh Husayn b. Malik Ghiyâth al-Dîn Muhammad b. Shâh Mahmûd Sîstânî, Khayr al-bayân (ca. 1631), MS BL Or. 3397, ff. 33b-4a. Mughal sources relating the episode include (i) Muhammad Sâlih Kanbû Lâhûrî, ‘Amal-i Sâlih (ca. 1660), ed. Gh. Yazdânî (3 vols., Calcutta: The Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1912-1939), I.306, and (ii) Shaykh Muhammad Baqâ, Mir’ât al-‘âlam (ca. 1667), MS BL Add. 7657, f. 170b. Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 80a, 169b; also Bahr al-asrâr, f. 76b; Mir’ât al-‘âlam, f. 170b.

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of what is today southern Tajikistan and northeastern Afghanistan. Gradually, however, the two princes began more aggressively to assert their own authority in their respective gubernatorial seats. Their behaviour worried Walî Muhammad, who resolved to remove them from their posts. But local resistance ensured that this move came to nothing, and instead Walî Muhammad decided to constrain their behaviour by placing each prince under the watchful eye of an appointed guardian. Walî Muhammad’s appointments were short-lived. His chosen guardians proved little to the taste either of the princes or of their local supporters, and within a 4 few months both trustees were killed. Imâm Qulî and Nadir Muhammad now gathered in Balkh in order to regroup their forces. Military challenges in the north of the khanate meant that Walî Muhammad presently had little scope for dealing sternly with such provocation, and instead he decided to offer terms. He undertook not to attack the princes so long as they remained in Balkh and did not advance north into Mawarannahr. The princes consented to these conditions, and for the 5 following year an uneasy peace obtained between the rival factions. But in spring 1611 Imâm Qulî and Nadir Muhammad decided to advance. Proceeding north from Balkh, they met Walî Muhammad’s forces at Qarshî. Forced to withdraw after an 6 accidental stampede in his camp, Walî Muhammad retreated to Bukhara. Unfortunately for Walî Muhammad, Bukhara was now not quite the sanctuary for which he might have hoped. Learning of the Qarshî debacle, the local hâkim now recognised Imâm Qulî’s strategic superiority, and refused to allow Walî 7 Muhammad back into the city. This left Walî Muhammad at a loss as to what he should do. With no other recourse available to him, the khan gathered together his son Rustam Muhammad and four hundred close associates, and set off west towards Charjuy and the Iranian frontier.

(ii) Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm’s version of this much-repeated story is interesting because it is anomalous. According to the Silsilat al-salâtîn, when Walî Muhammad 3 4

5 6 7

Bahr al-asrâr, ff. 78b-9a, 170a-3a. Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 172a; also Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, f. 560a-b; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 833; Bahr al-asrâr, f. 84a-b; Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, p. 132; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 270a. There is little to support Lâhûrî’s suggestion (‘Amal-i Sâlih, I.306), that Walî Muhammad’s abusive behaviour was alone responsible for the breakdown in family relations. Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 172b; also Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 834; Bahr al-asrâr, f. 87a-b; Târîkh-i Sa‘îd Rakîm, ff. 206b-7b; Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, p. 133-4. Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 173a-b; also Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, pp. 434-5; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 834; Rawdat al-Safawiyya, pp. 830-3; Khayr al-bayân, ff. 33b-4a; Bahr al-asrâr, ff. 89a-90a; Târîkh-i Sa‘îd Rakîm, f. 208b; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 270b. Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 173b; also Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, p. 435; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 834.

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set out towards the Iranian border, he did so “for the purpose of performing tawâf 8 at the Ka‘ba in Mecca, and ziyârat to the tomb of Muhammad in Medina.” This ascription of purpose has subsequently proved influential. In her monumental work The Bukharans, for instance, Audrey Burton, relates how Walî Muhammad “fled at once to Iran, hoping to go to Mecca on pilgrimage and later perhaps to regain his 9 kingdom with help from the Shah.” But the ascription is precarious. This is not just because of the difficulties which are always inherent in attempting to discern the motivations for human action. Were it so, one might still reasonably assert that Walî Muhammad’s claimed intention in fleeing west to Iran was indeed to perform the hajj, regardless of his unknowable actual purpose. In fact, however, prior to the eighteenth-century Silsilat al-salâtîn there is no evidence that Walî Muhammad ever even claimed such an ambition for himself, either to his former Bukharan subjects or – as is subsequently suggested in the work – in discussion with his Safavid 10 hosts. In asserting that Walî Muhammad headed west to perform the hajj, the Silsilat al-salâtîn makes an assertion which is unsupported by any extant source. Other works relating the episode suggest that Walî Muhammad headed west because he hoped to receive Safavid assistance in ousting his unruly nephews, or simply wanted refuge. Such suggestions proliferate from a variety of authorial perspectives, appearing in both Safavid and Central Asian chronicles and in works com11 posed both contemporaneously with and long after the events in question. Most strikingly, the Silsilat al-salâtîn’s ascription of religious purpose finds no support in the Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, a history of Shâh ‘Abbâs’ reign composed by the Safavid chronicler Iskandar Bîk Munshî in the late 1620s. Relating Walî Muhammad’s flight, Iskandar Bîk, like other Safavid and Central Asian chroniclers, 12 omits mention of any aspiration to perform the hajj. The Silsilat al-salâtîn’s con8 9

10 11

12

Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 173b. A. Burton, The Bukharans – A Dynastic, Diplomatic and Commercial History 15501702 (Richmond, Surrey: Curzon, 1997), p. 129. See also R.D. McChesney, “The Central Asian Hajj-Pilgrimage in the Time of the Early Modern Empires”, in M. Mazzaoui, ed., Safavid Iran and Her Neighbors (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2003), p. 149. Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 179a, ascribing to Walî Muhammad a speech addressed to Shâh ‘Abbâs claiming that his sole intention in travelling west was to journey on to the Hijaz. Thus e.g. Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, p. 435, claiming that Walî Muhammad was motivated by a desire to communicate with the illustrious Shâh ‘Abbâs (non-critical text reading supported by MSS BL Add. 27241, f. 347b, and Bodleian Elliot 367, f. 549a); Khayr al-bayân, ff. 33b-4a; Bahr al-asrâr, f. 90a. Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 835, simply noting Walî Muhammad’s intention to pursue istimdâd, or ‘seeking assistance’. In addition to Afshâr’s non-critical text, see also e.g. MSS BL Add. Or. 16684, f. 326a, and BL Or. 152, f. 458b, as well as Roger Savory’s translation of the work, as History of Shah ‘Abbas the Great, based largely on Afshâr’s text but with reference also to MSS Cambridge H13 and H14 and BL Add.

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strual of a putative religious purpose behind Walî Muhammad’s flight is thus remarkable, since this alone amongst other details regarding the journey is not copied 13 verbatim from Iskandar Bîk’s work. One is bound to ask, therefore, whence originated the eighteenth-century work’s ascription of religious purpose to Walî Muhammad’s journey. One possibility is that Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm is drawing upon a lost source to complement material from the Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî. If this were so, it would harmonise with the Silsilat al-salâtîn’s other such borrowings from lost works: one can confidently discern references to lost early seventeenth-century material, for instance, in the work’s treatment of Walî Muhammad’s brother and khanal prede14 cessor Bâqî Muhammad. Were an earlier lost work indeed to have featured this religious ascription, however, one might expect to find echoes of this material in 15 our other extant sources. It is more likely, therefore, that the ascription constitutes Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm’s own authorial intervention. As such, it would be in keeping with a range of other interventions which adorn his account of sixteenthand seventeenth-century events. Some of these interventions evidently betray Hâjî 16 Mîr Muhammad-Salîm’s partisan understanding of prior affairs. When ascribing a religious purpose to Walî Muhammad’s journey, however, Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm seems to betray not his conscious authorial convictions but rather a broader set of unstated assumptions. In telling the story that he does Hâjî Mîr

13

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17927 (2 volumes; Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1978), II.1043, blandly relating how Walî Muhammad “decided to go to Iran and seek help from Shah ‘Abbas”. Compare Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 173b-4a, with Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, pp. 835-6; for further borrowings elsewhere, compare e.g. Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 158a, with Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 577. Scholars have generally overlooked the extent to which the Silsilat al-salatîn is obliged to the earlier work; see here e.g. B.A. Akhmedov, ‘“Silsilat al-Salatin”’, in E.A. Davidovich and G.F. Girs, eds., Istochnikovedenie i tekstologiia srednevekogo blizhnego i srednego vostoka (Moscow: Nauka, 1984), pp. 27-34. Thus a passage offering a heroic account of Bâqî Muhammad’s crossing the Amu Darya river in summer 1602 (Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 165a-7a) is almost certainly derived from material in Mawlânâ Saydî Qarâkulî’s lost Bâqî-nâma, the contents of which are described in Mutribî al-Asamm al-Samarqandî, Nuskha-yi zîbâ-yi Jahângîrî (ca. 1630), ed. I. Bîkjânûf and S.‘A. Mawjânî (Qum: Kitâbkhâna-yi Mar‘ashî Najafî, 1376/1997-8), p. 204. The borrowing is discussed in Welsford, “Loyalty, Welfare and Selfhood in EarlyModern Central Asia: The Tūqāy-Tīmūrid Takeover of Greater Mā warā al-nahr, 15981605” (Oxford University D.Phil thesis, 2007), pp. 292-4. One notes, for example, that echoes of the lost Bâqî-nâma appear also in the early eighteenth-century Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, pp. 127-30, similarly in the context of Bâqî Muhammad’s Amu Darya crossing. See e.g. Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 124b-5a, offering a heavily dramatised account of the arrival in Bukhara from Astrakhan of Yâr Muhammad, the Tûqây-Tîmûrid ancestor of both Walî Muhammad and Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm. The passage recounts a warm reception supposedly accorded to Yâr Muhammad by Iskandar Khan, the ruling Bukharan incumbent, to which we find no reference in any other source.

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Muhammad-Salîm is trying to make sense of an early seventeenth-century world somewhat different from his own. By the time Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm was writing, a lot had happened since 1611. By the time he was writing, in fact, several Tûqây-Tîmûrid khans had indeed left Bukhara for Iran with the stated aim of performing the hajj.

(iii) The first of these Bukharan khans to cross Iran while journeying on the hajj was Walî Muhammad’s nephew Imâm Qulî himself. In 1641, Imâm Qulî was suffering from poor eyesight. He was also coming under pressure from his younger brother Nadir Muhammad. In order to avoid conflict, Imâm Qulî handed power over to his brother, and set off for Iran. He went to Merv, then Mashhad, and then Isfahan, where he met the shah; he then headed on to Baghdad and thence to the Hijaz, 17 where he lived for two years before he died and was buried in Medina. The next khan to set off on the hajj was Imâm Qulî’s brother and successor Nadir Muhammad. He too came under pressure from close family members who wanted him out of the way. By 1651 Nadir Muhammad was facing imminent overthrow. So he decided to head west in order to perform the pilgrimage. Unlike his brother, however, Nadir Muhammad did not reach his destination. He fell ill and died in Simnân, and attendants took his corpse for burial next to Imâm Qulî in the cemetery at Med18 ina. The third khan to set off for Iran in order to perform the hajj was Nadir Muhammad’s son and successor ‘Abd al-‘Azîz. In 1681, after thirty years in power, ‘Abd al-‘Azîz too found himself unable to discharge the demands of authority. With rebellions breaking out across the khanate, he decided to abdicate in favour of his brother Subhân Qulî. Having abdicated, ‘Abd al-‘Azîz headed west. He crossed the Amu Darya at Charjuy, and headed to Merv. From there ‘Abd al‘Azîz went to Tûs, Mashhad, Nishapur, Sabzawâr, Bistâm, Simnân, Kâshân, and Isfahan, where he was the guest of Shah Sulaymân. After days of splendid festivities with the shah, ‘Abd al-‘Azîz continued on with his journey. Having informed the Ottoman sultan of his approach he headed into the Hijaz, and was welcomed by the Sharîf of Mecca. After staying in Mecca for two years, he resolved to return home, and headed for Mukhâ, from where he proposed to take a boat to India. He never got to 19 India, however. When ‘Abd al-‘Azîz arrived at Mukhâ he fell ill, and died. 17

18 19

Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, pp. 154-5; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 272b; Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 201a-2a. Other sources to relate the journey include Muhammad-Ma‘sûm b. Khwâjagî Isfahânî, Khulâsat al-siyâr (ca. 1641), ed. Î. Afshâr (Tehran: Intishârât-i ‘ilmî, 1368/19891990), here pp. 291-4; also Abû’l-‘Abbâs Muhammad Tâlib b. Khwâja Tâj al-Dîn Hasan Khwâja, Matlab al-tâlibîn (ca. 1646), MS Berlin Staatsbibliothek – Preussischer Kulturbesitz Or. Oct. 1680, f. 122b. Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, p. 170; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 275a-b; Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 264b. Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, p. 178; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 278a; Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 289b.

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Between 1641 and 1681 three successive Bukharan khans headed west into Iran for the ostensible purpose of performing the hajj. The author of the Silsilat alsalâtîn was writing in the light of these events. Because it had become ‘conventional’ for rulers to head west for the hajj, the author of the Silsilat al-salâtîn seems to have seen fit to ascribe a similar purpose to Walî Muhammad’s earlier journey into Iran. But this would have been a mistake. In 1611 it was not conventional practice for Central Asians to head straight west into Iran for the hajj. In 1611, this would have been rather unusual. Until the beginning of the sixteenth century, of course, the road through Iran was the preferred pilgrimage route for most Central Asians. When the fifteenthcentury Naqshbandî master Jâmî travelled to the Hijaz, for instance, his journey 20 took him from Herat to Baghdad through Nishapur and Qazwîn; travelling to Mecca around the same time, meanwhile, Khwâja Ahrâr’s associate Muhammad Yahyâ seems to have attempted a somewhat more southerly route via Herat and 21 Yazd. As is conventionally recognised, however, from the early 1500s the Iranian land route became less attractive, as long-running low-level hostility between the Shi‘ite Safavids and the Sunni Abû’l-Khayrids of Bukhara heavily impeded border 22 travel between Central Asia and Iran. Writing in the later sixteenth century, a Venetian ambassador noted that the Safavid authorities were reluctant to allow 23 ‘Tatars’ to pass through Iran on the way to Mecca, and anyone who crossed the 24 frontier risked harassment along the way. As Robert McChesney has observed, there is occasional record of individuals nevertheless continuing to take the Iranian 25 26 route: but this was probably not as common a practice as he suggests, and aspir20

21 22 23

24 25

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Fakhr al-Dîn ‘Alî b. al-Husayn al-Wâ‘iz al-Kâshifî Rashahât-i ‘ayn al-hayât (early sixteenth century), ed. ‘A.A. Mu‘îniyân (Tehran: Majmû‘-yi matûn-i qadîm wa ahwâl-i dânishmandân wa ‘ârifân, 1356/1977-8), p. 254. Jâmî’s route via Herat and Nishapur was presumably similar to that previously undertaken by Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband’s pupil and associate Khwâja Muhammad Pârsâ, as related in Rashahât-i ‘ayn al-hayât, p. 110. Rashahât-i ‘ayn al-hayât, p. 583. For a good general account of early sixteenth-century Safavid-Uzbek hostilities, see M. Dickson, “Shāh Ṭahmāsb and the Uzbegs: The Duel for Khurasān with ‘Ubayd Khān 930-946/1524-1540” (Princeton University Ph.D. thesis, 1958). A. Bennigsen and M. Berindei, “Astrakhan et la politique des steppes nord pontiques (1587-1588)”, in Harvard Journal of Ukrainian Studies 3-4 (1979-1980), p. 73, citing MS Archivio di Stato, Venice, Dispacci degle Ambasciatori al Senato, Costantinopoli XXVXXVI. See e.g. the travails related in Zayn al-Dîn Wâsifî Badâ’i‘ al-waqâ’i‘ (ca. 1538), ed. A.N. Bûldîrûf [Boldyrev] (2 vols., Tehran: Châpkhâna-yi Zar, 1349/1970-1), II.256-60. McChesney, “The Central Asian Hajj-Pilgrimage”, p. 149, citing the example of Mîrzâ Sabrî, who at some point in the early/mid sixteenth century travelled from Bukhara to the Hijaz via Isfahan, as related in Sayyid Khwâjah Bahâ’ al-Dîn Hasan Bukhârî, known as ‘Nithârî’, Mudhakkir al-ahbâb, ed. Najîb Mâ’il Harawî (Tehran: Nashr-i Markaz, 1377/1999), pp. 272-3. McChesney, ‘The Central Asian Hajj-Pilgrimage’, p. 149, suggests that Shujâ‘ al-Dîn

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ant pilgrims from Central Asia generally sought alternative means of getting to the 27 Hijaz. One possibility was to head south to India, and to take a boat from Gujarat. Another option was the northern route via Khwârazm, Sarây, Astrakhan, Crimea and Istanbul. This was the route taken in the 1540s, for instance, by the Kubrawî 28 mystic Kamâl al-Dîn Husayn Khwârazmî. Neither of these options was very attractive. A proliferation of ‘shipwreck’ tropes in hagiographic tradition reminds us 29 that maritime passage was hazardous. Many pilgrims also resented having to charter their journeys with Christian Portuguese shipping agents, who dominated 30 passage across the Arabian Sea. The northern route was not much better. The Ottoman traveller Sîdî ‘Alî Re’îs famously relates how the route became ‘blocked’ 31 when the khanates of Astrakhan and Crimea fell to Christian Muscovy, and dreams of a grand Sunni alliance to restore Islamic rule over the northern Caspian 32 ultimately came to nothing.

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Dûst Bî, otherwise known as Dûst Muhammad Hâjî, whose 1565-6 pilgrimage is related in the Mudhakkir al-ahbâb, p. 248, probably travelled to the Hijaz via Iran. But the Nuskha-yi zîbâ-yi Jahângîrî, p. 173, notes that ‘Hâjî Dûst Muhammad’ in fact took the Indian route, at least on his return journey. See the letter sent from Akbar to ‘Abd Allâh II in 1577 discussing Central Asians’ use of the maritime route to Mecca, reproduced in R. Islam, ed., Calendar of documents on Indo-Persian relations (1500-1750) (2 vols., Karachi: Iranian Culture Foundation, 19791982), I.207. The maritime route was taken for example by the sixteenth-century East Turkestani shaykh Khwâja Muhammad Sharîf: see the anonymous Tadhkira-yi Khwâja Muhammad Sharîf, ed. Masami Hamada in Hagiographies du Turkestan Oriental. Textes čaġatay édités, traduits en japonais et annotés avec une introduction analytique et historique (Kyoto: Graduate Schools of Letters - Kyoto University, 2007), pp. 286-91. Shihâb al-Dîn Khwârazmî, Jâddat al-‘âshiqîn (ca. 1560), MS BL I.O. Islamic 640, ff. 57b-108b. J. Paul, ‘Faire naufrage’, in D. Aigle, ed., Miracle et karāma – Hagiographies médiévales comparées (Turnhout: Brepols, 2000), pp. 375-95. See e.g. Â’în-i Akbarî, a late sixteenth-century Mughal compendium by Abû al-Fadl ‘Allâmî, discussed in Storey, Persian Literature, I.ii.549-51, ed. and tr. H. Blochmann, D.C. Phillott, H.S Jarrett (3 vols., Calcutta: The Asiatic Society of Bengal, 1868-1894), I.181. Sîdî ‘Alî Re’îs, Mir’ât al-mamâlik (ca. 1558), ed. M. Kiremit as Mir’âtü’l-memâlik (Ankara: Türk Dil Kurumu Yayınları, 1999), pp. 128-30. The story of this abortive project is widely told. See H. İnalcik, “The Origin of the Ottoman-Russian Rivalry and the Don-Volga Canal (1569)”, Annales de l’Université d’Ankara 1 (1946-7), pp. 47-110; P.A. Sadikov, “Pokhod tatar i turok na Astrakhan’ v 1569g.”, Istoricheskie zapiski 22 (1947), pp. 132-66; A.N. Kurat, “The Turkish Expedition to Astrakhan in 1569 and the problem of the Don and Volga Canal”, Slavic and East European Review 40:94 (1961), pp. 7-23; A. Bennigsen, “L’expédition turque contre Astrakhan en 1569, d’après les registres des affaires importantes des archives ottomans”, Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique 8:3 (1967), pp. 427-46; T. Gökbilgin, “L’expédition ottomane contre Astrakhan en 1569”, Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique 11:1 (1970), pp. 118-23; H. Carrère d’Encausse, “Les routes commerciales de l’Asie Centrale et les tentatives de reconquête d’Astrakhan”, Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique 11:3 (1970), pp. 391-422; M. Ürekli, Kırım Hanlığının Kuruluşu ve Osmanlı Himâyesinde Yükselişi (1441-1569) (Ankara: Türk Kültürünün Araştırma Enstitüsü, 1989), pp. 47-57.

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By the middle of the sixteenth century, therefore, Central Asian pilgrims had opened two alternative routes to the Hijaz. One route led from Mawarannahr via ‘Arabshâhid-held Khwârazm to Mangishlâq and the Caspian, whence they might pass through northern Shirwân to Georgia and Kurdistan. This route, which enabled pilgrims to avoid both Safavid and Russian territory before entering the somewhat friendlier Ottoman marcher-lands, was the one taken by the Bukharan 33 amîr Mansûr Hâjî Tarkhan Dâdkhwâh at the turn of the seventeenth century. It may have been the intended route also of Dûst Chuhra-Âghâsî, another Bukharan amîr who in 1599 is supposed to have set off for Mecca ‘in atonement of his sins’, 34 before being killed by enemies on the desert road to Khwârazm. An alternative option was to try one’s luck heading south from Khwârazm and trying to enter Iran from ‘Arabshâhid territory, thereby avoiding the heavily-contested Safavid–Abû’lKhayrid frontier in Khurasan. This may have been the route attempted by the famous Jûybârî shaykh Muhammad Islâm, who in the mid-1550s set out from Bukhara 35 towards Khwârazm in what transpired to be a vain attempt to reach Mecca. The Khwârazmian route proved to be a risky option, and many aspirant pilgrims found that they had to turn back. A little while after setting out for Khwârazm in 1573, for instance, Dîn Muhammad, the former Abû’l-Khayrid ruler of Balkh, abandoned any ambition to reach Mecca and instead opted for the rather less ambitious ex36 pedient of visiting Tashkent. Throughout much of the sixteenth century travel through Safavid territory was difficult, and travel straight across the Khurasan frontier seems to have been very rare. Clearly, then, something significant had changed by the time that Imâm Qulî headed west for the hajj in 1641. Some kind of cultural shift had occurred, whereby travel through Iran became more firmly established in people’s repertoire of actions. Any attempt to account for this shift will do well to consider the contribution of behaviour by people like Walî Muhammad. Around the turn of the seventeenth century, people such as Walî Muhammad started using Iran as a place of refuge. In so doing, they helped transform Iranian-Central Asian relations.

(iv) When people get in trouble, they tend to run away. People in early-modern Central Asia were no exception. Over-taxed peasants regularly abandoned their lands in 37 order to seek a less encumbered life elsewhere, while Chingîzid losers in the on33 34 35 36 37

Bahr al-asrâr, f. 294b, noted in McChesney, “The Central Asian Hajj-Pilgrimage”, pp.134-5. Bahr al-asrâr, f. 62a. Matlab al-tâlibîn, f. 44b. Muhammad Yâr Qataghân, Musakhkhir al-bilâd (ca. 1606), ed. Nâdir Jalâlî (Tehran: Mîrâth-i maktûb, 1387/2008-9), pp. 188-9. See e.g. R.G. Mukminova, Ocherki po istorii remesla v Samarkande i Bukhare v XVI veke (Tashkent: Fan, 1976), p. 207; A. Gündoğdu, “Hive Hanlığı Tarihi (Yadigar Şibanları

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going struggle for political power often sought refuge further afield. Until about 1570, thwarted Abû’l-Khayrid dynasts followed a common course of action. They fled from their own stronghold to some other region in the Bukharan khanate where they knew they would receive a welcome. They were able to do this because authority within the khanate was highly decentralised. Since about 1510, territorial authority had been divided between four chief Abû’l-Khayrid subfamilies, based re38 spectively in Bukhara, Samarkand, Tashkent and Balkh. Because the head of each subfamily exercised effective suzerainty over his particular appanage, the supreme khan enjoyed very limited scope for intervention into the lives of those over whom he supposedly exercised formal authority. In 1567, for instance, a Samarkandi prince called Abû’l-Khayr who had wrongly seized control of Shahrisabz was able to escape punishment by fleeing back to his kinsmen in Samarkand, beyond the 39 reach of the angry Bukharan khan. After 1570, however, the Jânî-Bîkid sub-family of Abû’l-Khayrids started to monopolise territorial authority at the expense of other sub-families. During the reigns first of Iskandar and then of ‘Abd Allâh II, the territorial scope of khanal authority expanded into the furthest margins of the em40 pire. This meant that aspirant fugitives had to look beyond the frontiers of the khanate to be confident of finding safety. Ousted dynasts thus opted for flight to 41 42 Moghul Eastern Turkestan, to the Kazakhs or to the Manghits in the far Dasht-i 43 Qipchâq. In addition to such courses of action, a further expedient was available. Any individual reluctant to admit that his removal was born of necessity might instead

38

39 40 41

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Devri 1512-1740)” (Ankara University Ph.D. thesis, 1995), p. 124; R.N. Nabiev, “Istochniki po istorii krepostnogo prava v Srednei Azii”, Arkheograficheskii iezhegodnik 1963, pp. 98-9. Hâfiz-i Tânish, Sharaf-nâma-yi shahî (ca. 1590); references unless stated otherwise to incomplete non-critical edition and translation by M.A. Salakhetdinova (2 vols., Moscow: Nauka, 1983-1989), here I.86-7. The territorial division is discussed in Dickson, “Uzbek Dynastic Theory in the 16th Century”, in Trudy XXV mezhdunarodnogo kongressa vostokovedov (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo vostochnoi literatury, 1960), pp. 210, 215. Sharaf-nâma-yi shahî, II.33-9, 60; Badr al-Dîn Kashmîrî b. ‘Abd al-Salam Husayn b. Ibrâhîm, Rawdat al-salâtîn (ca. 1593), MS BL Or. 1424), f. 173b; Musakhkhir al-bilâd, pp. 149-53; 197-8. See Burton, The Bukharans, pp. 21-45, for the most complete account of these events. This was the course of action adopted by Mu’min Sultan, an unsuccessful contender for khanal authority in the late sixteenth century: Sharaf-nâma-yi shahî, MS BL Or. 3497, f. 239b; Musakhkhir al-bilâd, p. 169. Note by contrast Badr al-Dîn Kashmîrî, Rawdat alridwân (ca. 1589), MS IOSASU 2094, f. 236b, suggesting instead that Mu’min Sultan sought refuge with the Kirghiz. ‘Muqîmî’, Zafar-nâma-yi Muqîmî (ca. 1595), MS IOSASU 3901, ff. 74a-9b, relating how Bâbâ Sultan, another late sixteenth-century aspirant khan, travelled to the Kazakh court to seek assistance in his struggles against the increasingly dominant ‘Abd Allâh II. Sharaf-nâma-yi shahî, MS BL Or. 3497 f. 176b, relating the afore-mentioned Bâbâ Sultan’s subsequent flight among the Manghits.

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claim a loftier purpose and assert his pious intention of performing the hajj. Throughout the course of Islamic history, departure for the hajj has regularly been a useful recourse both for ruling parties wishing gently to be rid of problematic in44 dividuals and for parties seeking some face-saving justification for absenting themselves in times of difficulty; parties availing themselves of this latter option 45 might be anything from dynasts eliminated from succession to theologians finding 46 themselves under interdict. The situation was no different in early-modern Central Asia. When in the late 1590s Walî Muhammad’s grandfather Yâr Muhammad fell foul of the Bukharan khan, for instance, it is recorded that he betook himself south from the khanate to India, with the stated intention of proceeding from there 47 by sea on to Mecca. For Yâr Muhammad, as for Imâm Qulî some forty years later, heading off to perform the hajj was a convenient way of getting out of trouble. Regardless of whether or not they claimed the status of pilgrims, however, for most of the sixteenth century Central Asians were markedly reluctant to flee to Iran. This was not just because of the practical difficulties of crossing the heavily-contested Khurasan frontier. For a sixteenth-century Abû’l-Khayrid, fleeing to Safavid Iran would also have been extremely embarrassing. This was because successive rulers had rendered themselves rhetorically committed to eliminating the Safavids’ Shi‘ite fitna. It is a common trope in both Safavid and Uzbek sources, for instance, that Muhammad Shîbânî, the founder of the Abû’l-Khayrid dynasty, vowed not to stop attacking his western neighbours until he had opened up access 48 to Mecca and Medina; in the mid-sixteenth century, meanwhile, Barâq Khan is 44

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See R. Foltz, Mughal India and Central Asia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 100, on how pilgrimage to Mecca was often ‘a standard means for getting rid of disgraced individuals’. Such practice is well illustrated in the Â’în-i Akbarî: thus I.283, relating how an erring Mughal court official escaped punishment by being packed off to Mecca with money to distribute among the local poor; II.374 on a gambler who ‘lost not only his gold muhurs, but also his temper, and annoyed the Emperor so much that he was told to go to Makkah’; II.388, on a certain Ismâ‘îl Qulî Khan, who ‘committed certain improprieties and fell into disgrace, and was ordered to go from Bhakkar to Makkah’. As a factually somewhat dubious example from a later period, note the anonymous Târîkh-i Sighârî (ca. 1874), MS BL Or. 8156, f. 3b, relating how, after the death of the Kokandi ruler Muhammad Amîn Bî, one of his two sons, Nârbûtâ Bî, acceded to authority while the other, Hâjî Bîk, headed to Mecca as a pilgrim. For a late example from the eighteenth century, see M. Kemper, “Entre Boukhara et la Moyenne-Volga: ‘Abd an-Naṣîr al-Qûrṣâwî (1776-1812) en conflit avec les oulémas traditionalistes”, Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique 37:1-2 (1996), p. 46. Bahr al-asrâr, f. 40a-b; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 560; ‘Amal-i Sâlih I. 304; also ‘Abd al-Hamîd Lâhûrî, Pâdishâh-nâma (ca. 1660), ed. M.K. Ahmad and M. ‘A. al-R. Muta‘alqîn as Bâdishâh-nâma (3 vols., Calcutta: The College Press, 1866-1872), I.217-8. Muhammad Shîbânî’s supposed ambitions are recorded in a letter to Shah Ismâ‘îl apparently preserved in Hasan Bîk Rûmlû, Ahsan al-tawârîkh (ca. 1577), ed. C.N. Seddon as Aḥsan al-tawārīkh of Ḥasan Beg Rūmlū being a Chronicle of the early Safavis (Baroda: Oriental Institute, 1931), pp. 112-3; also Qâdi Ahmad Ibrâhîmî Husaynî, Khulâsat al-

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supposed to have announced that his territorial ambitions extended as far west as 49 the Hijaz. In the late 1580s, ‘Abd Allâh looked poised to put these ambitions into action. He exploited the disorder following Shah Muhammad Khudâbanda’s over50 51 throw to capture Herat in 1588, and Mashhad late the following year. In so doing, ‘Abd Allâh was satisfying the demands of certain supporters who had long argued that he should expel the Safavids from the fourth iqlîm, and thus re-open the 52 land route to Mecca and Medina. At the end of the sixteenth century, however, the tone of relations between the Uzbeks and the Safavids somewhat changed. ‘Abd Allâh’s notorious defeat at 53 Kashgar in 1594 put paid to the Abû’l-Khayrids’ long-burning aspiration to ‘uni54 versal empire’, and it began to dawn on the Uzbeks that military action was not going to bring an end to the Qizilbâsh heresy. Faced with the fact that the Safavids were not simply going to disappear, ‘Abd Allâh and his associates found themselves for the first time bound to acknowledge that they would have to establish a modus vivendi with their western neighbours, as one of a number of established 55 territorial polities in the region. The Shi‘ite Safavids were still unpopular, of course, and intermittent hostilities continued into the seventeenth century: but the Uzbeks at least dropped their lofty stance that the Safavids had no right to exist. One of the consequences of this shift was an increased degree of diplomatic interaction between Bukhara and Isfahan. During the late 1590s ‘Abd Allâh and his son ‘Abd al-Mu’min, the governor of Balkh, remained in regular – if seldom 56 friendly – communication with Shâh ‘Abbâs, and in 1596 the Abû’l-Khayrid governor of Herat Qul Bâbâ Kûkiltâsh dispatched an envoy to ‘Abbâs’ court requesting

49 50

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tawârîkh (ca. 1590), ed. I. Ishrâqî (Tehran: Intishârât-i Dânishgâh-i Tihrân, 1383/2004-5), p. 100. See e.g. ‘Abd al-Baqâ b. Bahâ al-Dîn b. Makhdûm-i A‘zâm, Jâmi‘ al-maqâmat (ca. 1617), MS Bodleian Ind. Inst. Pers. 118, f. 77b; discussion in M. Pârsâdûst, Shâh Tahmasb- i Awwâl (Tehran: Shirkat-i sahâmî-yi intishâr, 1381/2002-3), pp. 57-8. For discussion and sources see Burton, “The Fall of Herat to the Uzbegs in 1588”, Iran 26 (1988), pp. 119-23, and McChesney, “The conquest of Herat 995-6/1587-8: Sources for the study of Ṣafavid/Qizilbāsh – Shibānid/Ūzbak relations”, in J. Calmard, ed., Études Safavides (Paris/Tehran: Institut Français de Recherche en Iran, 1993), pp. 69-107. Burton, The Bukharans, pp. 63-4. For such demands see e.g. Sharaf-nâma-i shahî, I.240-1. For discussion and sources see O.F. Akimushkin, “Kashgarskii pokhod uzbekov pri Abdallah-khane”, in Iranskaia filologiia. Kratkoe izlozhenie dokladov nauchnoi konferentsii posviashchennoi 60-letiiu prof. A.N. Boldyreva (Moscow: Nauka, 1969), pp. 5-9. For this shift, see Welsford, “Loyalty, Welfare and Selfhood”, pp. 316-22. For this process of ‘étatisation’ as a wider trend common to the period, see C. Fleischer, “Royal Authority, Dynastic Cyclism, and “Ibn Khaldunism” in Sixteenth-Century Ottoman Letters”, Journal of Asian and African Studies 28:3-4 (1983), pp. 198-220. Burton, “The War of Words between ‘Abd al-Mu’min and Shah ‘Abbas”, Central Asiatic Journal 39:1 (1995), pp. 51-77.

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Safavid protection to any Central Asian pilgrims passing through Iran. Better attested than any increase in overland pilgrim numbers, however, is the increased number of Central Asians who from the mid-1590s began to contemplate the possibility of flight to Iran as one of the options available to them in time of need. In fact, the first Central Asians we know of who opted for this move were not from the Bukharan khanate but from Khwârazm. In 1593, ‘Abd Allâh led a campaign 58 against Hâjî Muhammad, the ruler of Khwârazm; interestingly, one of the reasons offered for the campaign was that the Khwârazmians had been abducting Bukharan 59 caravans bound via the Caspian route for Mecca. Realising that he could not hold out against the Bukharan onslaught, Hâjî Muhammad fled with several of his kins60 men to Isfahan, where he received a warm welcome from ‘Abbâs. Soon people from the Bukharan khanate were also seeking refuge across the border. In the Ihyâ’ al-mulûk, Malik Shâh Husayn Sîstânî relates how ‘Abd al-Mu’min proved so fearsome a governor of Balkh that by the mid-1590s various of his associates started 61 fleeing from him, heading westwards into Safavid-held Sîstân and beyond. But the real flood of Bukharan refugees into Iran started after the death of ‘Abd Allâh II in 1598. ‘Abd Allâh was briefly succeeded by ‘Abd al-Mu’min, but the new khan proved so violent in his behaviour that within less than a year he had 62 been murdered by resentful amîrs, fearful for their livelihoods. ‘Abd al-Mu’min’s death doubtless came as a relief to many, but it sparked off a political crisis. In the absence of any offspring other than ‘Abd al-Mu’min’s two-year-old child, no obvious successor presented himself, and people disagreed about who should succeed the little-loved khan. The leading amîrs of various different cities each elevated their own preferred candidates, none of whom proved particularly gifted. The least gifted of these ‘local khans’ was Pîr Muhammad, the ruler of Bukhara. Pîr Muhammad is widely described as having been lazy, and a coward; he was also rumoured 57 58

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Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 515. Rawdat al-salâtîn, ff. 550b-8b; Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, ff. 547b-8b; Abû’l-Ghâzî Khan, Shajarat-i Turk (ca. 1665), ed. P.I. Desmaisons as Histoire des Mongols et des Tatares par Aboul-Ghâzî Béhâdour Khan (St. Petersburg: 1871-2; reissued Amsterdam: Philo Press, 1970), pp. 257-8; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, pp. 463-8. Rawdat al-salâtîn, f. 559b; Shajarat-i Turk, p. 258; discussion in Gündoğdu, “Hive Hanlığı Tarihi”, p. 119. Rawdat al-salâtîn, f. 559a; Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, f. 548a; Hasan-Bîk b. Muhammad Bîk Khâqî Shîrâzî, Muntakhab al-tawârîkh (ca. 1612), MS BL Or. 1649, f. 261a; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 468. Malik Shâh Husayn b. Malik Ghiyâth al-Dîn Muhammad b. Shâh Mahmûd Sîstânî, Ihyâ’ al-mulûk (ca 1654), tr. L.P. Smirnova as Khronika voskresheniia tsarei (Moscow: Vostochnaia literatura, 2000), pp. 240-1. Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, p. 167; Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, f. 553b; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 557; Bahr al-asrâr MS IOSASU 7418 (uncatalogued), f. 415b; Nuskha-yi zîbâ-yi Jahângîrî, p. 129; Matlab al-tâlibîn, ff. 120b-1a; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 268b; Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 155a.

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to be an opium addict. So unpopular did Pîr Muhammad prove that in early summer 1599 the Tûqây-Tîmûrid prince Bâqî Muhammad, brother of Walî Muhammad and uncle of Imâm Qulî and Nadir Muhammad, was able to lead a rebellion against 64 Pîr Muhammad, and overthrew him from power. Immediately after this battle, several of Pîr Muhammad’s former supporters headed west and fled to Iran. Chroniclers record that the fugitives hoped that Shâh ‘Abbâs would furnish them military with support for an attempted restoration, just as late in 1598 he had helped the Kh65 wârazmian refugee Hâjî Muhammad re-establish authority in Khiva and Merv. By overthrowing the Abû’l-Khayrid incumbent Pîr Muhammad, the interloper Bâqî Muhammad initiated an important dynastic change within the Bukharan khanate. In 1599, formal authority in Bukhara transferred from the Abû’l-Khayrid line of Chingîzids to the Tûqây-Tîmûrids, who were a very distant line of cousins. This dynastic change significantly altered the diplomatic rhetoric between Iran and Central Asia. Although the Safavids had long been enemies of the Abû’l-Khayrids, after summer 1599 they were able to cast themselves as protectors of an Abû’lKhayrid status quo against assault by the wholly illegitimate Tûqây-Tîmûrid interlopers. ‘For a long time now, Mawarannahr has been the hereditary territory of descendents of the late pâdishâh Jânî Bîk Khan’, ‘Abbâs is reported to have assured two Abû’l-Khayrid princes in Balkh, anxious at Bâqî Muhammad’s relentless advance towards their own territory. ‘The two of you are as dear to me as children, 66 and I am sympathetic to your family interest.’ With such assurances, ‘Abbâs effectively signalled to Bâqî Muhammad’s Abû’l-Khayrid opponents that they might expect sympathy and support against the encroaching Tûqây-Tîmûrid party. When Balkh fell to Bâqî Muhammad’s forces in late 1600, therefore, refugees from the region flocked west to Isfahan in the hope of 67 sanctuary. Nor did ‘Abbâs simply offer refuge. After having played host to his visitors for a year or so, in summer 1602 he sponsored an attempt by two exiled Balkhi prices to re-establish Abû’l-Khayrid authority in eastern Khurasan. Together with a huge Qizilbâsh army, ‘Abbâs and the two princes marched east from Mashhad towards Balkh. The campaign was a disaster. Struck down by a mysterious illness, the Safavid forces were forced to retreat before they could even confront Bâqî 63 64

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Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, f. 554a; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 557; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 268b; Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 150a, 156a. Mullâ Awâz, Diyâ al-qulûb (ca. 1603), MS StPOIVAN 3498, ff. 37a-8b; Muntakhab altawârîkh, f. 260b; Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, p. 183; Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, f. 554a-b; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 594; Bahr al-asrâr, f. 60b; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 269a; Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 160b-1a. Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, pp. 598-9; Bahr al-asrâr, ff. 89a-90a, 96b, 184b. Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 596. Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, p. 202; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, pp. 606-10; Fadlî Khûzânî Isfahânî, Afdal al-tawârîkh (ca. 1629), MS Christ’s Cambridge Dd.5.6, f. 133b; Bahr al-asrâr, f. 64b; Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 163b.

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Muhammad’s army. Any dreams of an Abû’l-Khayrid restoration thus came to nothing. But the failure did not impel ‘Abbâs simply to abandon his eastern activities. ‘Abbâs was pragmatic: it does not seem to have mattered to him whether or not the Abû’l-Khayrids continued to rule Mawarannahr. His more pressing reason for sponsoring an attempted Abû’l-Khayrid restoration to authority was rather a concern to strengthen his hand in the lands east of his own. After a further abortive at69 tempt at an Abû’l-Khayrid restoration in 1607, therefore, ‘Abbâs simply turned his attention to other options. When the Tûqây-Tîmûrid refugee Walî Muhammad came looking for help against Imâm Qulî in 1611, the shah responded with enthusiasm to the appeal of this non-Abû’l-Khayrid dynast. ‘Abbâs and his visitor started planning a campaign aimed at seating Walî Muhammad back on the Bukharan throne. As it transpired, Walî Muhammad’s attempted restoration also proved unsuccessful. In 1611 ‘Abbâs found himself confronted with an Ottoman offensive in Azerbaijan, and was unable to commit all his resources towards a major campaign 70 into Central Asia. Walî Muhammad set off for Bukhara with just a small detachment of Qizilbâsh troops. These troops were sufficient to enable him briefly to capture the Bukharan citadel. But they were insufficient to protect Walî Muhammad from defeat when his nephews Imâm Qulî and Nadir Muhammad marched out to 71 meet him in a pitched battle. Of the Qizilbâsh forces sent to assist Walî Muhammad, we read, only fifty or sixty were able to get back alive to tell ‘Abbâs of the 72 disaster that had befallen them. By 1611, Bukharan refugees to Iran had suffered three military setbacks in less than a decade. But these setbacks did not stop people from fleeing west across the Amu Darya in times of need. The events of recent years had served to cast Isfahan in the minds of Central Asians as the default destination for seeking refuge, regardless of whether one was looking for military support or not. One Central Asian who thus headed to Iran some time after Walî Muhammad’s abortive restoration was the Jûybârî shaykh ‘Abd al-Rahîm. ‘Abd al-Rahîm had been a close associate of 73 Walî Muhammad. He was the khan’s brother-in-law, and when Walî Muhammad 68

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Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, pp. 222-6; Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, f. 557a; Afdal al-tawârîkh, ff. 144a-9b; Rawdat al-Safawiyya, pp. 753-6; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, pp. 621-30; Khayr al-bayân f. 31a; Nuskha-yi zîbâ-yi Jahângîrî, p. 180; Bahr al-asrâr, ff. 66b-8b; Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, pp. 126-30; Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 164b-7a. Târîkh-i miftâh al-qulûb, f. 559a; Bahr al-asrâr, ff. 82a, 173b; Matlab al-tâlibîn, f. 93a; Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 169a-70a. Târîkh-i ‘Abbâsî, p. 444; Rawdat al-Safawiyya, p. 833; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 839; Khayr al-bayân, f. 34a; Silsilat al-salâtîn, f. 178a. Rawdat al-Safawiyya, pp. 833-4; Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, pp. 840-7; Khayr albayân, f. 34a-b; Bahr al-asrâr, ff. 96a-9b; Târîkh-i Sa‘îd Rakîm, ff. 208b-9b; Târîkh-i Qipchâq Khânî, f. 271a-b; Silsilat al-salâtîn, ff. 178a-81a. Rawdat al-Safawiyya, p. 834. Matlab al-tâlibîn, f. 168a; discussion in B. Babajanov and M. Szuppe, Les inscriptions

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marched east to recapture his throne ‘Abd al-Rahîm was one of the first people to 74 come out and welcome him into the city. Learning of Imâm Qulî’s subsequent victory, ‘Abd al-Rahîm could hardly have hoped that his recent behaviour would endear him to the newly-elevated Bukharan khan. With little expectation of preferment in Bukhara, ‘Abd al-Rahîm resolved to absent himself by setting off on the hajj. Unlike such recent figures as Dûst Chuhra-Âghâsî, however, ‘Abd al-Rahîm did not embark on his proposed journey by heading for Khwârazm. Instead he crossed the Amu Darya and headed for 75 Merv, Mashhad and Nishapur. Unlike Dûst Chuhrah-Âghâsî, ‘Abd al-Rahîm headed straight for Iran, where his associate Walî Muhammad had previously been so warmly received. The author of the Matlab al-tâlibîn relates that Imâm Qulî was livid to learn of ‘Abd al-Rahîm’s departure. The work tells how Imâm Qulî decided to punish the 76 shaykh by appropriating all the possessions he left behind. Imâm Qulî may well have feared that ‘Abd al-Rahîm was seeking Safavid assistance for a further campaign aimed at unseating him from khanal authority. As it transpired, any such fear would have proved ill-founded. Having learned from previous failures, in the years after 1611 ‘Abbâs displayed a striking reluctance to intervene in Central Asian domestic affairs. Any refugees hoping for Safavid military assistance would thereafter be disappointed. From that point on, Central Asian visitors to the Safavid court were generally dispatched not eastwards, but westwards.

(v) There is an irony here. A handful of Central Asian refugees arguably contributed more to the re-opening of Iran for Central Asian pilgrim traffic than did successive generations of Abû’l-Khayrid khans all rhetorically committed to ridding Iran of the Safavid menace. It was the acknowledgment of weakness, rather than the assertion of strength, which did most to ease Central Asian pilgrims’ overland transit. Successive ousted agents were welcomed through Iran on their way to Mecca. They and their retinues were welcomed through because it flattered successive Safavid shahs to patronise their former opposites with displays of magnanimous largesse. One might object that a shortage of seventeenth-century prosopographical information makes it difficult to determine what impact these events had on the reli-

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persanes de Chār Bakr, nécropole familiale des khwāja Jūybārī près de Boukhara (London: SOAS, 2002), p. 29. Bahr al-asrâr, f. 97b. In fact, he did not reach his destination; arriving in Isfahan, he fell ill and returned back to Bukhara: Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî, p. 958; Bahr al-asrâr, f. 144a; Matlab altâlibîn, ff. 140b-1a, 170a-b. Some time later ‘Abd al-Rahîm set off again, this time via India, where he died en route: Matlab al-tâlibîn, ff. 123b-4a; 149b. Matlab al-tâlibîn, f. 170b-1a.

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gious practice of ‘ordinary’ Central Asians. Even if the Safavids only very rarely gave permission for pilgrims to cross their territory, however, many Central Asians were clearly able to avail themselves of the opportunities thus presented. A collection of diplomatic correspondence records the negotiations whereby the ailing Imâm Qulî secured Iranian transit permission only for himself but also for his siz77 able retinue, and in the Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî we read that when ‘Abd al-‘Azîz set off for the Hijaz in 1681 some 30,000 people supposedly accompanied him along 78 the way. Even if such numbers are grossly exaggerated, it is clear that the iterated performance of khanal abdication and withdrawal to Mecca enabled many people to make a journey which a century earlier had been extremely difficult. The consequences of this trend are clearly illustrated in the Mudhakkir alashâb, a Samarkandi literary compilation from about 1690. As Robert McChesney observes in his discussion of the work, the author Muhammad Badi‘ Samarqandî describes his travels through, and encounters in Iran as though the region were an 79 integral part of his own cultural oikoumenê. In the Silsilat al-salâtîn’s story of Walî Muhammad’s venturing west into Iran for the hajj, Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm offers a comparable picture of trans-regional connectivity. But by comparing this story with the very different accounts of Walî Muhammad’s flight as given in our early seventeenth-century sources, we see the pitfalls of taking such interactions as a diachronic constant. Historians will do well to remain alert to the distortions of Hâjî Mîr Muhammad-Salîm’s parallax view: and to remember that, for the student of political, cultural and religious relations between Central Asia and Iran, as anywhere else, the longue durée will always carry its attendant dangers.

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Abû’l-Qâsim Aw-Ughlî Haydar, Nuskha-yi jamî‘-yi murâsalât (ca. 1660), MS BL Add. 7688 (Rieu, Catalogue of the Persian Manuscripts in the British Museum, I.388-90), f. 259a-b. Târîkh-i Muqîm Khânî, p. 178. McChesney, ‘“Barrier of Heterodoxy?” Rethinking the Ties between Iran and Central Asia in the 17th Century’, in C. Melville, ed., Safavid Persia: Pembroke Papers 4 (London: IB Tauris, 1996), pp. 231-267.

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The Hajj Making Geopolitics, Empire, and Local Politics: A View from the Volga-Ural Region at the Turn of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries

Norihiro Naganawa On 23 October 1911, a Russian Muslim pilgrim reached Suez from Cairo. The traveler’s name was Khayr Allâh al-‘Uthmânî, imam of the first mosque in Qârghâlî near Orenburg and the former deputy of the second State Duma. Relating an account of his journey in the influential Orenburg-based newspaper Waqt (Time), al-‘Uthmânî proudly described how he held his own against scheming lodging 1 agents and European steamship offices at Odessa, Istanbul, and Beirut. Upon reaching Suez, however, he found that the world changed: “We had traveled in the European world (Yâwrûpâ ‘âlimî) before we came to Suez. As soon as we stepped into Suez, we found ourselves in the pilgrims’ world (Hâjjîlik ‘âlimî), victims of cheating deeds, like other pilgrims.” In a steamship bound for Jeddah, al-‘Uthmânî enjoyed talks with two Arabic-speaking Frenchmen rather than with his “sullied and destitute” fellow believers from Java, India, and Kashgar. When the Frenchmen ironically asked him if these people were sufficiently well off to be eligible to undertake the hajj, al-‘Uthmânî replied that it was “their” Islamic legal schools (madhhablar) which allowed them to do only if safe and sound (salâmat), in marked contrast to the school of “our” Abû Hanîfa. Al-‘Uthmânî was also astonished by the attire of these impoverished and ignorant (jâhlâna) travelers, whose lack of cleanli2 ness (tahârat) he saw as an affront to religion and legal tradition (dîn wa sharî‘at). Russian officialdom generally regarded the crossing of borders by its Muslim subjects – and particularly by pilgrims – as a challenge to order, fearing that these people might exploit their mobility in order to forge alignments against Russian rule with coreligionists from other empires. However, implicit in al-‘Uthmânî’s narrative was that Russian Muslims abroad maintained a strict sense of demarcation between “us” and “others.” Dale Eickelman and James Piscatori argue that the encounter with the Muslim “other” was as important a source of self-definition as the encounter with the European “other”: while travel broadens one’s consciousness of the spiritual unity with the Muslim world, it may define barriers between Muslims 3 and thus narrow one’s horizons. In al-‘Uthmânî’s case it is striking that, while identifying himself with Europeans, he criticised his fellow hajjis in normative Is1 2 3

Waqt 19 July 1912, 3. Waqt 28 September 1912, 3. Dale F. Eickelman and James Piscatori, eds., Muslim Travelers: Pilgrimage, Migration, and the Religious Imagination (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), p. xv.

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lamic terms. What implications did his self-definition between European and Muslim convey to the readers of the Waqt as well as the Russian authorities monitoring the Muslim press? In this article I outline an instance of entanglement between the Russian state and Muslim travelers at the turn of the twentieth century, focusing on the question of pilgrims from the Volga-Ural region to the Ottoman Empire. Attention to the specifics of place makes it possible to discern the otherwise blurred connections between local politics, state policy, and the contemporary (both European and Islamic) world environment. My arguments are based primarily on Russian archival documents and Tatar printed word. The former body of sources encompasses records of the Turkish Section (Turetskii stol) within the Foreign Ministry, records of the Russian Embassy in Istanbul, and some regional documentation. As we shall see, such materials reveal the state’s ambivalence towards its Muslim subjects’ mobility across empires, including a stark contrast between the domestic and diplomatic foreign agencies in dealing with the hajj. From the turn of the century onwards, meanwhile, the accounts of Tatar travelers began increasingly to be published as booklets and articles in the local Tatar-language press. Analysis of such materials allows us to appraise what experience and knowledge the travelers 4 brought back home, and what impact they had in the context of local politics. Over the last decade or more, scholars of the Russian Empire have highlighted the complex interdependence of relations between Muslim communities and the 5 tsarist state. During this same period, a smaller number of scholars have begun to 4

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I intend to develop in the Russian context Eickelman and Piscatori’s suggestion to study Islam in terms of practice and action. (See Eickelman and Piscatori, Muslim Travelers, pp. 14-15, 21.) Although they tend to restrict the effects of travel to internal Muslim politics, I deploy the term “local politics” not only for the politics inside the Muslim communities but also in their interactions with the Russian state in particular. For insightful works on a connection of the printed work and Muslim politics, see Francis Robinson, “Technology and Religious Change: Islam and the Impact of Print,” Modern Asian Studies 27:1 (1993), pp. 229-251; Adeeb Khalid, “Printing, Publishing, and Reform in Tsarist Central Asia,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 26 (1994), pp. 187200; idem, The Politics of Muslim Cultural Reform: Jadidism in Central Asia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), pp. 115-127. To name a few, Stéphane A. Dudoignon, “Status, Strategies and Discourses of a Muslim “Clergy” under a Christian Law: Polemics about the Collection of the Zakât in Late Imperial Russia,” in S. A. Dudoignon and H. Komatsu, eds., Islam in Politics in Russia and Central Asia (Early Eighteenth to Late Twentieth Centuries) (London: Kegan Paul, 2001), pp. 43-73; Christian Noack, “State Policy and its Impact on the Formation of a Muslim Identity in the Volga-Urals,” in Dudoignon and Komatsu, Islam in Politics, pp. 3-26; Allen J. Frank, Islamic Historiography and ‘Bulghar’ Identity among the Tatars and Bashkirs of Russia (Leiden: Brill, 1998); Robert Crews, For Prophet and Tsar: Islam and Empire in Russia and Central Asia (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006); D. Iu. Arapov, Sistema gosudarstvennogo regulirovaniia islama v Rossiiskoi imperii (posledniaia tret’ XVIII-nachalo XX vv.) (Moscow: MPGU, 2004).

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draw on both Russian and Ottoman archival materials to examine the similar interactions with the Russian state in its Muslim subjects’ mobility beyond Russian 6 frontiers. In general, however, these scholars have focused on events happening in the regions either immediately contiguous to or within the Ottoman territory: the webs of intellectual and empirical interaction facilitating travel from other, more distant Muslim regions in the Russian Empire have often been neglected. Furthermore, a reliance on records produced by the state agencies means that emphasis on the Muslims’ accommodation to the Russian and Ottoman states has sometimes been at the cost of overlooking both the voices of the travelers themselves and the ways in which their voices and ideas were circulated in a particular locality. Study of Muslim travelers encompasses a wide range of comparative studies of imperial rule and Muslim society, including accounts of interaction both between empires and between imperial Muslim subjects. Study of the modern hajj has revolved around the logistics of transportation, hygiene policies, and state security against anticolonial activities, as well as the interplay between domestic and foreign policies concerning these matters. F. E. Peters thus integrates the narratives of both Muslims and non-Muslims concerning the hajj into his comprehensive history of the hajj. But his interest is so focused on events in the Hijaz that he fails to address the actual ramifications which hajj had upon each of the colonial empires and 7 their Muslim subjects. Michael Christopher Low reframes the hajj as Indian Ocean 8 history: he builds upon William Roff’s pioneering work by contextualising the crucial role of the hajj in fostering Pan-Islamic and anticolonial ties between India and 9 the Ottoman Empire. Meanwhile, study of scholarly and Sufi networks enhancing interactions between cultural centers of the Middle East and peripheral regions supports the picture of an Islamic world globalising alongside the European one

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Michael Reynolds, “The Ottoman-Russian Struggle for Eastern Anatolia and the Caucasus, 1908-1918: Identity, Ideology and the Geopolitics of World Order” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2003); Eileen Kane, “Pilgrims, Holy Places, and the Multi-confessional Empire: Russian Policy toward the Ottoman Empire under Tsar Nicholas I, 18251855” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2005); James H. Meyer, “Turkic Worlds: Community Representation and Collective Identity in the Russian and Ottoman Empires, 1870-1914” (PhD diss., Brown University, 2007). An article based on chapter 6 of Meyer’s dissertation was published as “Immigration, Return, and the Politics of Citizenship: Russian Muslims in the Ottoman Empire, 1860-1914,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 39 (2007), pp. 15-32. F. E. Peters, The Hajj: The Muslim Pilgrimage to Mecca and the Holy Places (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), chapter 6. William R. Roff, “Sanitation and Security: The Imperial Powers and the Nineteenth Century Hajj,” Arabian Studies 6 (1982), pp. 143-160. Michael Christopher Low, “Empire and the Hajj: Pilgrims, Plagues, and Pan-Islam under British Surveillance, 1865-1908,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 40 (2008), pp. 269-290.

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from the seventeenth century onwards. There are additionally several works dealing with the hajj from the Russian Empire, based on archival documents. But although these studies share a common research agenda with the above-mentioned works, they neither refer to the experience of other empires nor draw upon Muslim 11 sources. My article is thus a preliminary attempt to integrate the phenomenon of hajj in the Russian/Central Asian context into broader comparative studies. The politics surrounding the hajj consisted of multiple layers. The Russian state was concerned about its geopolitical location in international relations: at the same time, it was concerned about a domestic challenge from its Muslim population. While the state was ready to make use of Muslim agency as diplomatic and administrative leverage, some Muslims were willing to work as intermediaries between the state and the Muslim communities. The experience and expertise which travelers brought home from the Hijaz exposed the readers of the Tatar press to the oscillation between European and Muslim identities. On the one hand, the encounter with the Muslim other pushed the Tatar hajjis and readers of their travelogues toward the European identity. On the other hand, Tatar reformist activities in the Russian context required new Islamic symbols, such as the Prophet Muhammad as the ideal to be emulated by every Muslim, as well as innovative new interpretations of the Quran, the Hadith, and the contemporary Arabic literature of the Islamic renewal.

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Marc Gaborieau, Alexandre Popovic, and Thierry Zarcone, eds., Naqshbandis: Cheminements et situation actuelle d’un ordre mystique musulman (Istanbul: Institut Français d’Études Anatoliennes, 1990); Stefan Reichmuth, “The Interplay of Local Developments and Transnational Relations in the Islamic World: Perceptions and perspectives,” in A. von Kügelgen, M. Kemper, A. J. Frank, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Centuries, vol. 2 (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 1998), pp. 5-38. Daniel Brower, “Russian Roads to Mecca: Religious Tolerance and Muslim Pilgrimage in the Russian Empire,” Slavic Review 55:3 (1996), pp. 567-584; S. E. Grigor’ev, “Rossiiskie palomniki v sviatykh gorodakh Aravii v kontse XIX-nachale XX v.,” Istoriografiia i istochnikovedenie istorii stran Azii i Afriki 18 (St. Petersburg, 1999), pp. 88-110; E. A. Rezvan, “Khadzhzh iz Rossii,” in Vostok: istoriia i kul'tura (St. Petersburg: Nauka, 2000), pp. 129-146; D. M. Usmanova, Musul’manskie predstaviteli v rossiiskom parlamente. 1906-1916 (Kazan: Akademiia Nauk RT, 2005), pp. 427-434; V. P. Litvinov, Vneregional'noe palomnichestvo musul'man Turkestana (epokha Novogo vremeni) (Elets: Eletskii gosudarstvennyi universitet im. I. A. Bunina, 2006). See the most recent substantial work utilizing the Tatar printed word: A. T. Sibgatullina, Kontakty tiurok-musul’man Rossiiskoi i Osmanskoi imperii na rubezhe XIX-XX vv. (Moscow: Institut vostokovedeniia RAN, 2010). While her engagement with the recent Turkish historiography is useful, her description fails to incorporate a broader comparative perspective. As far as the archival sources are concerned, she does not use the Russian Foreign Ministry records.

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Itineraries Although no exact statistics are known, the average annual number of hajjis from the Russian Empire at the turn of the century is estimated from six to ten thousand, with a maximum annual figure of about sixteen thousand, fluctuating mostly due 12 to epidemic outbreaks. In 1893 the Russian consulate in Jeddah recorded 86,489 pilgrims passing through Jeddah and Yanbu, of whom 4,328 were Russian subjects 13 having arrived from Bombay and another 1,808 having arrived from Suez. According to a report of 1908 made by Sayyid ‘Azîmbâyûf, an official hajj operator of Tashkenti background, 6,964 pilgrims passed through his “Hajji lodge (hâjjî khâne)” in Odessa: 3799 of these had come from Turkestan, 1703 from Chinese territory (mostly from Kashgar), 593 from the North Caucasus, 289 from Bukhara, and 169 14 from the Volga-Ural region. The hajjis from the Volga-Ural region were always a small minority, particularly in comparison with those from the Ferghana valley. Nonetheless, at the turn of the century the Volga-Ural region also seems to have witnessed an increasing number of people travelling for pilgrimage into Ottoman territory. This trend is illustrated by ‘Alî Ridâ’’s guidebook entitled Hâjjîlarga Rafîq yâkhûd Hâjjîlaring âldândiqlarînî bayân wa âldânmâyincha yûrurga tûghrî tarîq (The Companion of the Hajjis, or the Explanation of the Cheated Hajjis and the Right Way of Avoiding Being Swindled), printed by the Kazan publisher Ûrnak in 1909. This guide contains instructions regarding passports, train and steamer tickets, a list of items to take for the journey, advice about exchanging money, a detailed itinerary, a gazetteer of tourist spots, instructions about customs and quarantine procedures, and some tips for getting on well with Bedouins in the Hijaz. ‘Alî Ridâ’’s was not the only source of advice for hajjis from the Volga-Ural region: there existed additionally a series of published brochures entitled the Manâsik al-Hajj, which informed pilgrims about the theological significance of the hajj, spiritual preparation for the departure, and 15 the elaborate pilgrimage rituals outlined in the Hanafi juridical literature. But the title of ‘Alî Ridâ’’s guide suggests that there existed alongside the learned a wider 16 constituency of pilgrims seeking practical advice for their journey. 12

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See an essay by the former Russian consul in Jeddah, M. E. Nikol’skii, “Palomnichestvo musul’man v Mekku,” Istoricheskii vestnik (April 1911), p. 258. See also its Tatar translation Hajj Safarî (Kazan: Matba‘a Karîmiyya, 1912), p. 4. Some Russian scholars estimate between 8-10 and 20-25 thousand. Grigor’ev, “Rossiiskie palomniki,” pp. 98-101; Rezvan, “Khadzhzh iz Rossii,” p. 137. V. I. Iarov-Ravskii, “Palomnichestvo (khadzh) v Mekku i Medinu,” in Sbornik marerialov po musul'manstvu vol.1 (St. Petersburg, 1899), pp. 131, 136. AVPRI (Arkhiv vneshnei politiki Rossiiskoi imperii), f. 149 (Turetskii stol), op. 502b, d. 3362, ll. 11-11ob. Kitâb-i Manâsik al-Hajj (Kazan, 1882); Zayn al-Dîn b. Sharaf al-Dîn al-Bulghârî, Risâla-i Manâsik al-Hajj (Kazan, 1901). The Russian consulate in Jeddah in 1895 also observed that the vogue of the hajj

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What does ‘Alî Ridâ’ have to say about the road to Mecca? He describes four 17 routes to Istanbul. The first of these was from Moscow via Warsaw and Vienna to 18 Istanbul by train. This route took six days and cost 120 rubles. The second was from Odessa by steamer. This took 23 hours in good conditions and cost four rubles. To reach Odessa, pilgrims coming from Turkestan had to change trains at both the Samara and Tula stations; those coming from Siberia had to change only at Tula, 19 and those from Kazan either just at Moscow or at several other stops. Pilgrims from Turkestan could also travel to Krasnovodsk on the Trans-Caspian military railway, then to Baku by water, and from Baku via Rostov to Odessa by train. But ‘Alî Ridâ’ does not recommend this route, due to the danger of the Caspian Sea at winter and the necessity of repeatedly changing trains. The third route was from Sevastopol to Istanbul by steamer. ‘Alî Ridâ’ considers the Odessa option to be much the preferable: while Odessa had five to six vessels going to Istanbul every week, Sevastopol had only one, and the small old ship which plied the route could 20 take more than two days in bad weather conditions. As the fourth option, meanwhile, most people from the Caucasus went to Istanbul from Batumi, where steamers were always available. This journey took seven to eight days in fine weather. 21 ‘Alî Ridâ’ proceeds then to outline a model route from Istanbul onwards. The pilgrims are recommended at Odessa to buy tickets to Alexandria, allowing them also to stay in Istanbul as long as they wished. After Alexandria, the pilgrims visit Cairo and then proceed to Suez by train. They then take a steamer to Jeddah, and thence travel on overland to Mecca. After the ritual in ‘Arafât, they visit Medina. For their return journey, there is the option of travelling from Medina to Damascus 22 on the newly established Hijaz Railway. The hajjis also have a chance to go to Jer-

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brought to the Hijaz even common people ignorant of its meaning. AVPRI, f. 180 (Posol’stvo v Konstantinopole), op. 517/2, d. 5322, l. 223ob. ‘Alî Ridâ’, Hâjjîlarga Rafîq yâkhûd Hâjjîlaring âldândiqlarînî bayân wa âldânmâyincha yûrurga tûghrî tarîq (Kazan, 1909), pp. 12-16. Khayr Allâh al-‘Uthmânî from Qârghâlî also seems to have once traveled along this route. Waqt 6 July 1912, 2-3. The opening of the Tashkent-Orenburg railway in 1906 made this route the most economical for Turkestan Muslims. Brower, “Russian Roads,” p. 579. Ismail Gasprinskii’s Tarjumân gave preference to “Russkoe obshchestvo” based in Sevastopol. Tarjumân 14 September 1908, 3. On 13 October the newspaper published an advertisement of special steamships for the pilgrimage in Russian, Persian, Tatar, and Turkish. It offered round trip ticket to Hijaz, first class 250 rubles, second class 200 rubles, third class 100 rubles. The steamship company proposed to arrange a “hajji house (hâjjîsarây)” (30 kopeikas a day for one person). Ridâ’, Hâjjîlarga Rafîq, pp. 60-62. Based on the Istanbul press, the Tatar press intensively reported the opening of the Hijaz Railway on 19 August 1908, which was timed to coincide with the thirty-third anniversary of Abdülhamid’s reign. See articles in the Astrakhan newspaper Îdil 2 September 1908, 1; 28 October 1908, 2-3; 31 October 1908, 2-3. See also accounts in the Orenburg journal Shûrâ 1 (1909), 7; 2 (1909), 39-43; 3 (1909), 68-69. Shura also published a transla-

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usalem. Moving to Beirut, they leave for Istanbul, where they can buy souvenirs until their departure to Feodosia. More generally, by the end of the nineteenth century printed hajj accounts (hajjnâmas) began to serve as guidance for those wishing to visit holy cities, offering practical information about the route, transportation, lodging, expenses, sights, and holy mausoleums. Muhammadî b. Sâlih, one of the three assessors (qâdîs) of the Orenburg Spiritual Assembly in 1884 who also temporarily served as mufti in 23 1885-1886, undertook the hajj in 1875-1876. In his Safarnâma, Muhammadî b. Sâlih methodically records dates, time, sojourns on his journey, sacred sites related to the Prophet, his descendants, and his companions in Istanbul, Alexandria, Cairo, Mecca, and Medina. Notably in Cairo he visited the huge graveyard of “Qarâfa (City of the Dead)” to pray for holy tombs of Muhammad’s female offspring including Sayyida al-Nafîsa bint Hasan ibn Zayd ibn al-Hasan ibn ‘Alî ibn Abî Tâlib (76224 824) and Sayyida Zaynab bint ‘Alî ibn Abî Tâlib (d. 682). On his way to Mecca in 1880, the famous Shihâb al-Dîn al-Marjânî (1818-1889) from Kazan stopped not only at the Pyramids (ahrâm) but also at the “City of the Dead” to pray for Shaykh 25 Shâtbî. Composing in poetry a hajj record for one ‘Abd al-Rahîm Ramadân ûghlî of Astrakhan, a certain ‘Abd al-‘Azîz b. Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Hâjtarkhânî ended his description with an account of the train and steamship fares, quarantine 26 levies and other expenses incurred during the pilgrimage. In the years after the 1905 Revolution, a progressively developing Tatar-language press also served to disseminate knowledge about the history of the hajj and the contemporary situation of the holy cities. Nor did the Orenburg Spiritual Assembly remain indifferent to the increasing demand for hajj information. Its organ Ma‘lûmât cautioned fellow believers against leaving for pilgrimage without any preparation and knowledge. Compiling information from various hajj accounts, the

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tion from an article of the Paris journal L’Illustration No.3394 of 1908. Shûrâ 10 (1908), pp. 312-318. On the railway, see William Ochsenwald, The Hijaz Railroad (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1980); Sibgatullina, Kontakty tiurok-musul’man, pp. 109-121. See also an observation by the Russian Foreign Ministry concerning the hajj traffic along this railway in AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502b, d. 6545. V pamiat’ stoletiia Orenburgskogo magometanskogo dokhovnogo sobraniia (Ufa, 1891), p. 47. Muhammadî b. Sâlih al-‘Umarî thumma al-Qazânî, Safarnâma (Kazan, 1890), pp. 6-8. Rihla al-Marjânî (Kazan, 1898), pp. 12-13. For a Russian translation of this travelogue, see Mardzhani o tatarskoi elite (1789-1889) (Moscow, 2009), p. 89. On Qarâfa in Cairo, see Tetsuya Ohtoshi, “Visitations to the Holy Tombs in the Egyptian City of the Dead: The Customs and Mentality of Visitors to Qarâfa from the Twelfth through Fifteenth Century,” Shigaku Zasshi (Historical Journal) 102:10 (1993), pp. 1-49 (in Japanese). ‘Abd al-‘Azîz b. Muhammad b. Ahmad al-Hâjtarkhânî, Hajjnâma (Astrakhan, 1910), pp. 19-20. ‘Abd al-Rahîm Ramadân ûghlî traveled from Astrakhan through Tsaritsyn to Odessa, from Odessa through Istanbul to Alexandria, from Alexandria through Cairo to Suez, and from Suez to Jeddah.

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journal acquainted readers with some of the places which they might visit in Istan27 bul, Cairo, Jeddah, Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem. Travel accounts provide us with valuable knowledge about the interactions and encounters of the Volga-Ural Muslims during their journey. In Odessa, their main departure point, travelers sojourned at the house of the local mullah – in the 1870s 28 a certain Ibrâhîm Âdîkâyif, and at the beginning of the twentieth century one 29 Sâbirjân Saffâruf. In Istanbul Shihâb al-Dîn al-Marjânî relied on the Bukharan shaykh Süleyman Efendi (d. 1890) to secure introductions to the Sheyhülislâm and 30 other high-ranking officials. Ma‘lûmât recommended as a guide (dalîl) to sites in Jerusalem one Mamlûk Zâd Muhammadsalîm, an agent of a Naqshbandi chief from 31 Bukhara. For travelers to Damascus, one Sâqmârî, who contributed to the Orenburg journal Shûrâ with his travelogue on the Syria region, vouched for an individual called Tâlib Efendi, who was originally from Russia and worked at Hotel “Mecca.” Tâlib Efendi not only provided comfortable rooms, but also helped travelers with their sightseeing and gave advice so as not be cheated in buying souvenirs. Tâlib Efendi seems to have been the first in Damascus to publish a booklet containing information on the city’s famous spots and instructions necessary for travelers. Sâqmârî eulogised him by saying that the “entrepreneurship (tashabbuth-i shakhsî) of the Russian Muslims is superior to that of the Turks and Arabs. An example of 32 this must be Tâlib Efendi.” In his hajj account, Abû ‘Abd al-Rahmân al-Hâjj ‘Abd Allâh b. Muhammad ‘Ârif b. al-Shaykh Ma‘âdh al-Ûrî (b. 1870) from Orsk, Orenburg province, lists the 33 eminent scholars whom he visited along the way. Of cosmopolitan background 27 28

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Ma‘lûmât 36 (1909), pp. 868-873. Sâlih, Safarnâma, p. 3. He conducted himself as a mediator for travelers embarking without funds or passports. Famous Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm (1857-1944) recalled that when he went to Mecca for the first time in 1879, Âdîkâyif hid him and his companion in a bath tub on an Italian steamship. Gabderräshit Ibrahimov, Tärjemäi khälem (Kazan, 2001; orig. St. Petersburg, 1912), pp. 69-70. Ridâ’, Hâjjîlarga Rafîq, 14. See also Fâtih Karîmî, Istânbûl maktûblarî (Orenburg, 1913), p. 17. Rihla al-Marjânî, p. 3; Mardzhani o tatarskoi elite, p. 84. On Süleyman Efendi, see Thierry Zarcone, “Political Sufism and the Emirate of Kashgaria (End of the 19th Century): the Role of the Ambassador Ya‘qūb Xān Tūra,” in A. von Kügelgen, A. Frank, M. Kemper, eds., Muslim Culture, pp. 162-163; idem, Sufi pilgrims from Central Asia and India in Jerusalem (Kyoto: Center for Islamic Area Studies at Kyoto University, 2009), p. 29. Ma‘lûmât 36 (1909), p. 873. On the Naqshbandî lodges in Jerusalem, see Zarcone, Sufi pilgrims from Central Asia. Shûrâ 20 (1913), pp. 613-614. Sâqmârî is likely to be a nisba, a name denoting origin. There is a village called Sakmara along the Sakmara River running north of Orenburg. Abû ‘Abd al-Rahmân al-Hâjj ‘Abd Allâh b. Muhammad ‘Ârif b. al-Shaykh Ma‘âdh alÛrî, Rihla Ibn al-Ma‘âdh ilâ al-Hijâz (Orenburg, 1913), pp. 33, 51, 54-55. After his departure on 10 October 1910, he traveled to Sevastopol, Sinop, Jeddah, Mecca, Medina, Damascus, Beirut, Haifa, Yafa, Jerusalem, and Istanbul.

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himself – his grandfather Shaykh Ma‘âdh (d. 1831) was an associate of Fayd Khân 34 al-Kâbulî (d. 1802), shaykh of the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya in Kabul – Abû ‘Abd al-Rahmân relates a picture of Muslim interaction which transcends the boundaries of nationality and Sufi brotherhood. In Mecca he met the renowned Tatar shaykh Abû Hasan Muhammad Murâd Ramzî (1854-1934), Shaykh ‘Abd Allâh b. al-Shaykh Sâlih al-Zawâwî, and Muhammad Sa‘îd al-Hindî. In Medina, he encountered ‘Abd al-Bâqî al-Ansârî al-Hindî, ‘Abd al-Qâdir al-Tarâblisî al-Thânî, Ibrâhîm b. Hasan al-Iskawabî, al-Shaykh Muhammad Ma‘sûm al-Hindî al-Fârûqî, Hasan Qarî al-Misrî, and ‘Abd al-Qâdir al-Hawârî, director of the Sheyhülislâm Library. And in Istanbul, Abû ‘Abd al-Rahmân stopped at the Fâtima Sultân Khânqâsi, the lodge of the Naqshbandiyya-Khâlidiyya. This lodge was famed among Russian Muslims as the place where Zayn Allâh Rasûlif (1833-1917), a renowned shaykh from Troitsk, Orenburg province, completed his ascetic training with 35 Ahmad Diyâ’ al-Dîn b. Mustafâ Gumushkhânawî (1813-1893). In Istanbul, Mecca, and Medina in particular, hajjis and other travelers found comfort at lodges (takîya or tekke), each of which, rather than transcending communal boundaries, traditionally catered to travelers from some particular origin. Shakirdzhan Ishaev, a dragoman of the Russian consulate in Jeddah who was originally from Tashkent, considered Mirza Salekh Mukhammed Karimov, an Istanbulbased Tatar merchant, to be the “kernel of all the abuses against Russia”: Karimov worked as a mediator in the hajj and immigration (mukhadzhirstvo) into Ottoman territory, harboring insolvent merchants. He managed a tekke which a Kazan mer36 chant called Iunusov donated for destitute Tatar hajjis. In 1895 Ishaev counted 126 37 Russian and Bukharan subjects in Mecca. He listed 24 tekkes, including five for 34

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On the genealogy of Shaykh Ma‘âdh, see [Abû ‘Abd al-Rahmân al-Hâjj ‘Abd Allâh b. Muhammad ‘Ârif b. al-Shaykh Ma‘âdh al-Ûrî], Târîkh-i Ma‘âdhiyya (Orenburg, 1906). See also Ridâ’ al-Dîn b. Fakhr al-Dîn, Âthâr vol. 1, no. 6 (1904), p. 276. On Fayd Khân al-Kâbulî, see Michael Kemper, Sufii i uchenye v Tatarstane i Bashkortostane: islamskii diskurs pod russkim gospodstvom (Kazan: Idel’ Press, 2008; orig. Berlin, 1998), pp. 143145; Baxtiyor M. Babadžanov, “On the History of Naqšbandīya-Muğaddidīya in Central Māwarā’annahr in the Late 18th and Early 19th Centuries,” in M. Kemper, A. von Kügelgen, D. Yermakov, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 19th to the Early 20th Centuries (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 1996), p. 387; Crews, For Prophet and Tsar, pp. 31-32. Zayn Allâh Rasûlif introduced “loud dhikr (collective liturgical exercises)” to the locals, instead of “silent dhikr” which was customary in this region. Ridâ’ al-Dîn b. Fakhr alDîn, Shaykh Zayn Allâh hadratining tarjama-i hâlî (Orenburg, 1917), pp. 8-9, 30. On the Naqshbandiyya-Khâlidiyya and Gumushkhânawî, see Butrus Abu-Manneh, “The Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya in the Ottoman Lands in the Early 19th Century,” Die Welt des Islams 22 (1982), pp. 1-36; idem, “Shaykh Ahmed Ziyā’üddīn el-Gümüşhānevī and the Ziyā’i-Khālidī Suborder,” in Frederick de Jong, ed., Shī‘a Islam, Sects and Sufism (Utrecht, 1992), pp. 105-117. AVPRI, f. 180, op. 517/2, d. 5322, ll. 249-251ob. According to another report of 1901 written by Russian consul in Jeddah S. Tukholka,

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the Kazan Tatars: one lodge belonging to a Tatar merchant of Istanbul Duberdeev was apparently distinguished from the others by the cleanliness of its rooms. “Sarts” from Central Asia organised the tekkes according to their regional background: 39 Bukhara, Samarkand, Margelan, Andijan, Tashkent, and Namangan. Ishaev additionally included on the list two tekkes of the “former Kashgar khan Iakub Khan.” The name seems to imply Ya‘qûb Khân Tûra, a nephew of the ruler of Kashgaria 40 Ya‘qûb Beg (r. 1871-1877) and his ambassador. The two lodges were at that time managed by a Sart called Seifuddin. In Medina Shihâb al-Dîn al-Marjânî stayed at a tekke named after a Kazan merchant called Qurbân ‘Alî b. Murtada b. Ismâ‘îl b. 41 Yûsuf b. Burnây (d. 1853/54). More well-known among the Tatar hajjis was ‘Abd al-Sattâr’s tekke. Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm stayed there when he studied in Medina from 42 1879. And when the Orenburg Mufti Muhammadyâr Sultânûf (in office 1886-1915) and his company arrived in Medina on 25 April 1893, ‘Abd al-Sattâr entertained 43 them with a Russian samovar and national foods. Despite the local support networks which were thus available to pilgrims, the journey was seldom an easy one. Hajjis frequently had to struggle en route with devious brokers (dallâllar). In his guidebook, ‘Alî Ridâ’ devotes many pages to explaining the brokers’ modus operandi, and the ways of escaping their lures. The brokers formed guilds according to different linguistic and cultural specialties, according to each client’s respective country of origin. ‘Alî Ridâ’ describes the

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not more than 200 from Central Asia, not more than 20-30 from Caucasus, not more than 500 from Kashgar lived in Mecca; not more than 30 from Central Asia and not more than 200 from Crimea and Kazan in Medina; not more than 30 from Central Asia in Jeddah. S. Tukholka, “Russkie musul’mane v Khedzhaze,” Sbornik konsul’skikh donesenii god. 4 (1901), pp. 481-482. One of the Tatar tekke masters whom Ishaev registered was “Murat”. He may be Shaykh Muhammad Murâd Ramzî. One of the renowned Orenburg merchants Ghanî Husaynûf undertook the hajj in 1884. He also stayed at Murâd Ramzî’s house. Burhân Sharaf, Ghanî Bây (Orenburg, 1913), pp. 20, 287-288. AVPRI, f. 180, op.517/2, d.5322, ll.201-201ob., 203-203ob., 236-236ob. Zarcone, “Political Sufism.” Rihla al-Marjânî, p. 17; Mardzhani o tatarskoi elite, p. 92. When this merchant undertook the hajj in 1849/50, he made this tekke a pious endowment (waqf). Fakhr al-Dîn, Âthâr vol. 2, no. 11 (1905), p. 247. Ibrahimov, Tärjemäi khälem, p. 84. Khadzhi Salim-Girei Sultanov, “Sviashchennaia oblast’ musul’man v Aravii,” Zemlevedenie kniga 1-2 (1901), p. 98. On Mufti Sultânûf’s hajj, see AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502a, d. 1593; f. 149, op. 502a, d. 1595. See also information in his biography. Shûrâ 15 (1915), p. 451. After the journey with his son, Sultânûf seemed to submit his travel report (dokladnaia zapiska) to the Interior Ministry. Although I have not found it yet, the abovecited article was likely to be written by either the mufti himself or one of his travelling companions (according to the aforementioned biography, he did not have a son named Salim-Girei). The author says that six Muslims departed from the Ufa station for the hajj on 4 March 1893, with a huge crowd seeing them off. Dates and stops in his story coincide almost exactly with Mufti Sultânûf’s.

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brokers’ specialisation in Istanbul: “Bukhârâlî dallâllarî” dealt with hajjis from Turkestan, Bukhara, Tashkent, and Khiva; “Dâghistân dallâllarî” with those from the Caucasus, “Qirim dallâllarî” with those from Crimea, Persians (‘Ajamlar) with 44 Persians and “Qazân dallâllarî” with Kazan Tatars, Kazakhs, and Kirghiz. In the Hijaz, despite their corruption and abuses in soliciting fees for their services, the hereditary guilds of guides (mutawwif or dalîl) and their heads (shaykh) were nevertheless able to provide pilgrims with useful guidance in performing the complex rituals of the hajj. Assuming that these guides also worked for pan-Islamic propaganda agencies outside the Hijaz, the British and Dutch attempted to keep them un45 der surveillance. Many of the guides in the Hijaz were specialised in organising the travel arrangements for Russian hajjis from particular regions. Appointed by the written order of the Sharif of Mecca, these guides also traveled around the Muslim regions of the Russian Empire with a view to inviting fellow-believers to the hajj. The main guide in Mecca, Mukhammad-Ali-Srudzhi, worked as a guide for “all Tatars and Kirghiz [Kazakhs] of the Russian Empire”: he spoke Russian and knew “all famous Tatar merchants and rich men as well as Sufi leaders and mullahs living in the Rus46 sian cities and the Kazakh steppe,” keeping in touch with many of them. Still, the pilgrims from Russia denounced these guides for their bribery and indifference to the interests of “foreigners”: in February 1907, the Kazakh pilgrims petitioned the Russian consul at Jeddah to appoint a Kazakh as their guide, and to establish a con47 sul or vice-consul at Yanbu for the protection of the hajjis. So far my narrative has allowed the Russian state agencies to appear only sporadically: they either counted the number of the hajjis and tekkes or otherwise occasionally listened to the hajjis’ grievances. Were the Muslim travelers really insulated from the Russian state? If the state was not entirely indifferent to the hajj activities of its subjects, how and to what extent did it attempt to communicate with these people? By the end of the nineteenth century, the Russian authorities, both home and abroad, began seriously to study the implications of the hajj for the country, and to take measures to control this annual movement.

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Ridâ’, Hâjjîlarga Rafîq, pp. 29-30. Roff, “Sanitation and Security,” pp. 155-156; Christopher Low, “Empire and the Hajj,” p. 284. See also Peters, The Hajj, pp. 246-248, 277-279. Sh. Ishaev, “Mekka, sviashchennyi gorod musul’man (Razskaz palomnika),” Sredneaziatskii vestnik November (Tashkent, 1896), pp. 73-74, 79; Sultanov, “Sviashchennaia oblast’ musul’man,” pp. 113-114. See a list of the guides for the Russian Muslims, IarovRavskii, “Palomnichestvo,” pp. 134-135. AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502b, d. 3371, ll. 62-64ob. The Jeddah consulate had also acknowledged the necessity of the consulate agent at Yanbu since the early years of its establishment. Ibid., l. 19ob; AVPRI, f.180, op. 517/2, d. 5322, l. 101.

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The Involvement of the Russian State Empires with a substantial number of Muslim subjects maintained rigorous observation over the hajj in order to prevent pilgrims from being infected with either of two dangerous threats to state security. These were cholera and anticolonial thought, both of which were widely believed to proliferate in the Hijaz. Located as they were at the periphery between the European and the Islamic worlds, both the Russian and Ottoman Empires were particularly well placed to fashion themselves as crucial partners in efforts to protect pilgrims and the European empires alike from anticolonial agitation and the cholera epidemic. Both empires were instrumental in the organisation in the years between 1851 and 1894 of eight international sanitary conferences, at which however though little of substance was achieved: joint action was hampered by rivalry between the great powers for influence in the 48 Middle East, as well as Britain’s repeated breach of international agreements. Russian fears about the role of hajjis in importing subversive ideas into the country increased dramatically in 1898, when an uprising took place in Andijan under the leadership of Dûkchî Îshân, a former pilgrim to the Hijaz. The after-effects of the uprising was comparable to that of the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857-58, which similarly provoked anxiety among British officials about the danger arising from inter49 national webs of anticolonial radicalism. After the Andijan Uprising, the Governor-General of Turkestan S. M. Dukhovskoi submitted a well-known report Islam in Turkestan to the tsar in 1899. He attached to this report a series of detailed studies on Muslim religious practices and beliefs, which was compiled by leading specialists in Tashkent. In the first volume of the Collection of Materials about Islam, V. I. Iarov-Ravskii presented a compelling argument to the effect that the pilgrimage exacerbated Muslim fanaticism and political instability, with the Ottoman sultan and the Sharif of Mecca at the summit uniting the Muslim world against the European empires. Iarov-Ravskii buttressed his arguments by citing not only an “anti-Muslim missionary” from Kazan, but also the renowned Dutch Orientalist Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje, according to whom, “the hajjis were an easily ignit-

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Valeska Huber, “The Unification of the Globe by Disease? The International Sanitary Conferences on Cholera, 1851-1894,” Historical Journal 49:2 (2006), pp. 461, 463-464, 475; see also Peters, The Hajj, pp. 301-305, 310. On pressure from European governments on Russia, see also Brower, “Russian Roads,” pp. 577-578. For an overview of the Ottoman endeavor, see Sibgatullina, Kontakty tiurok-musul’man, pp. 37-44. Christopher Low, “Empire and the Hajj,” pp. 269, 274-277. The Dutch had established a relationship between returned hajjis and rebelliousness against colonial authority in the 1840-50s. Roff, “Sanitation and Security,” p. 146. On the paranoia of pan-Islamism blinding local officials and experts in Turkestan after the Andijan Uprising, see Alexander Morrison, “Sufism, Panislamism and Information Panic: Nil Sergeevich Lykoshin and the Aftermath of the Andijan Uprising,” Past and Present (forthcoming).

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ing element (legkovosplameniaiushchiisia element)..., their interests were mostly 50 incompatible with those of the Christian governments.” Iarov-Ravskii’s assessment of the threat arising from Muslim pilgrimage was not unchallenged, however. Based on its own monitoring of the situation, the general staff came to a less hysterical view of the matter. In 1898, the War Ministry dispatched to the Hijaz one Abdülaziz Devletshin, a Muslim staff captain originally from Ufa Province, and a Muslim doctor called Magomet Magometovich Dalgat. Despite the concerns of the Foreign Ministry for their security, the War Ministry insisted that they travel as “real pilgrims” without any preliminary contact with Otto51 man officials or local Russian diplomats. In his report, Devletshin gave assurance that the hajj did not lead to the political union of various Muslim peoples, noting that “even our Kazakhs and Tatars do not want to know each other.” On the contrary, he argued, disenchantment with the Ottoman state and its “caliph” during the hajj made the Russian subjects “fevered patriots” who would augment Russia’s prestige in the Hijaz. He even contrasted the awe of the locals toward Russia with their hatred toward the British. Devletshin ended his report with the suggestion that instead of incompetent Ottoman officials, Muslim consuls or vice-consuls of the European powers be positioned directly in Mecca to supervise all sanitary 52 measures. A dragoman of the Russian Consulate in Jeddah, Shakirdzhan Ishaev, had also made a similar observation in his report on the hajj of 1895: it was here in Mecca that the Tatars and the Kazakhs in particular recognised the comfort of their own country as well as the complete negligence of the Ottoman government. Still, Ishaev was also aware that people from Turkestan expressed only their admiration 53 for Mecca.

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Iarov-Ravskii, “Palomnichestvo (khadzh),” pp. 136, 148-152, 156. See also RGVIA (Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi voenno-istoricheskii arkhiv), f. 1396 (Shtab Turkestanskogo voennogo okruga), op. 2, d. 1740; Brower, Turkestan, pp. 97-99; Arapov, Sistema gosudarstvennogo regulirovaniia, pp. 169-170. M. A. Miropiev, “Religioznoe i politicheskoe znachenie khadzha ili sviashchennogo puteshestviia mukhameddan v Mekku,” Trudy studentov missioner protivo-musul’manskogo otdeleniia pri Kazanskoi dukhovnoi akademii vyp.15 (Kazan, 1877); Harry J. Benda, “Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje and the Foundations of Dutch Islamic Policy in Indonesia,” Journal of Modern History 30:4 (1958), pp. 338-347. RGVIA, f. 400 (Glavnyi shtab Voennogo ministerstva), op. 1, d. 2239, ll. 13, 17-17ob.; AVPRI, f. 180, op. 517/2, d. 5301, l. 12. Otchet Shtabs-kapitana Davletshina o komandirovke v Khidzhaz (St. Petersburg, 1899), pp. 117-119, 144. See also Alex Marshall, The Russian General Staff and Asia, 1800-1917 (London: Routledge, 2006), p. 123. Devletshin was also highly critical of Collection of Materials about Islam compiled by Tashkent specialists at the initiative of GovernorGeneral Dukhovskoi. D. Iu. Arapov, Imperatorskaia Rossiia i musul’manskii mir: sbornik statei (Moscow: Natalis, 2006), pp. 228-241. AVPRI, f. 180, op. 517/2, d. 5322, ll. 224-225ob.

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Elaborating on a bill for the regulation of Muslim pilgrims from Russia, the Royal Anti-plague Commission, which had been established in 1897 under the chair of Prince Aleksandr Petrovich Ol’denburgskii, keenly grasped both contradictory assessments of the hajj. But the commission gave preference to Iarov-Ravskii’s: “The hajj ... should definitely be recognised as a detrimental and unfavorable phenomenon from a national viewpoint.” Still, taking into account the international Conventions of Vienna (1892 and 1897) and Paris (1894), the commission considered it essential to confine the hajj as an “inexorable and only tolerated evil” to judicious restrictions (razumnye ogranicheniia) so that uncontrolled clandestine pilgrims not 54 bring cholera back home. The commission was also ready to collaborate with the Orenburg, Crimean, and Transcaucasian Muslim administrations in order to clarify 55 state measures for the benefit of the Muslim communities. The Foreign Ministry, in turn, cautioned against facilitating Muslim mobility so that Muslim subjects should not wrongly expect the government’s protection, let alone furtherance, of 56 the tradition of the hajj. In 1903, the Russian state promulgated a set of temporary regulations for hajjis. Pilgrims should have special passports for foreign travel. Russian as well as foreign hajjis were to proceed through ports appointed by the Interior Ministry for sanitary purification: in the Black Sea, pilgrims could leave Odessa, Sevastopol, or Batumi, but they could return only to Feodosia as the sole quarantine point. Quarantine officers were to send certificates of pilgrims’ purification to governors of the pilgrims’ 57 provinces of residence. Violation of regulations would be a criminal offence. In keeping with this law, I.N. Tolmachev, Provisional Governor-General in Odessa, attempted, in collaboration with the Interior Ministry, to maintain constant 54

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Later Russian consul in Jeddah, M. E. Nikol’skii was concerned that those hajjis returning via Bombay with cheap steamer tickets stealthily crossed borders into the Russian territory, thereby bringing the epidemic back home. In addition, he regarded India, not Mecca as the center of pan-Islamism. See Nikol’skii, “Palomnichestvo musul’man,” pp. 626-627, 637-638; AVPRI, f. 180, op. 517/2, d. 5321. Interestingly enough, the Tatar translation of Nikol’skii’s essay does not convey the phrases of India as the center of panIslamism or his claim that “our government ... has never attempted to hinder the hajj with political consideration.” Hajj Safarî, pp. 66, 68, 78. Indeed, the Orenburg Spiritual Assembly served as a channel to relay instructions of the Royal Anti-plague Commission. Sbornik tsirkuliarov i inykh rukovodiashchikh rasporiazhenii po okrugu Orenburgskogo magometanskogo dukhovnogo sobraniia, 1836-1903 g. (Kazan, 2004; orig. Ufa, 1905), pp. 93-96, 136-137. See also Sultanov, “Sviashchennaia oblast’ musul’man,” p. 116. RGVIA, f. 400, op. 1, d. 2904, ll. 26-26ob., 36-37ob., 40ob., 57ob., 145ob. Arapov, Islam v Rossiiskoi imperii, 260-261; TsGIARB (Tsentral’nyi gosudarstvennyi istoricheskii arkhiv Respubliki Bashkortostan), f. I-295 (Orenburgskoe magometanskoe dukhovnoe sobranie), op.11, d.542, l.157; GAOO (Gosudarstvennyi arkhiv Orenburgskoi oblasti), f. 10 (Kantseliariia orenburgskogo gubernatora), op.1, d.236. This GAOO file also contains many application forms for pilgrimage passports which were sent by Kazakhs of Ural’sk province to the Orenburg governor.

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surveillance over hajjis reaching Odessa; he was assisted by Sayyid Ganî Sayyid ‘Azîmbâyûf who, as proprietor of a hâjjî khâne in the city (see above, p. 172 and illustrations attached to this article), additionally saw a business opportunity here. In practice, as ‘Alî Ridâ’’s Hâjjîlarga Rafîq instructed, the hajjis could avoid travel restrictions by concealing their destination when obtaining passports from provincial authorities. Instead, they declared their intention of going to Mecca only when before the Ottoman agencies in Odessa and Istanbul, so that they could freely travel 58 around in the Ottoman territory. As Odessa was the major departure point for the hajj from the Volga-Ural re59 gion, such surveillance measures triggered a massive protest in the Tatar press. In Ma‘lûmât, the organ of the Orenburg Spiritual Assembly, for instance, we find repeated expressions of discontent at the manner in which pilgrims were handled like “livestock for sale (sâtliq haywânlar)”. We read how excessive duties were levied on pilgrims at customs, and how after disinfection in the fumigatory (bakhûrkhâne) they were obliged to throw away the dates and the Zamzam water which they had brought from the holy cities as souvenirs. Contributors to Ma‘lûmât argued that hajjis would pray in Mecca for Russia’s bliss, if the Russian state only treated them 60 decently as Russian citizens (Rûsiyaning ghrâzhdânlarî). Nor were such expressions of discontent limited to the press. Confronted with an ordinance in September 1903 from the Interior Ministry’s Department of Religious Affairs that all Zamzam water imported by hajjis should be boiled, ‘Inâyat Allâh Kâbqâyif, one of the three qadis of the Spiritual Assembly, attempted to rebut the ruling: arguing from an exegesis of Bukhârî’s Hadith, he claimed that the Zamzam was not a source of pesti61 lence, but a remedy. In contrast to the disciplinary approach advocated by domestic agencies, Russian consular officials in Jeddah hoped that attending to the hajjis’ needs would enable the Russian state to reinforce its influence among them as well as to vie with the Ottoman and other European representatives for prestige among the pilgrims and inhabitants in the Hijaz, although they also did not wish to promote the hajj. The establishment of the Russian consulate in Jeddah in 1891 was late compared 62 with that of the British in 1838 and the Dutch in 1872. Until this point, Russia had 58 59 60 61 62

Ridâ’, Hâjjîlarga Rafîq, pp. 4-5, 14-15, 26, 62. Tarjumân also observed that the hajjis now obtained passports not for the pilgrimage, but for sightseeing and trade. Tarjumân 7 September 1908, 3. On the activities of Sayyid Ganî Sayyid ‘Azîmbâyûf, see A. T. Sibgatullina, “‘Delo’ Saidazimbaeva-rukovoditelia musul’manskogo palomnicheskogo dvizheniia iz Rossii,” Nauchnyi Tatarstan 1 (2009), pp. 76-89; Brower, “Russian Roads,” pp. 581-583. Ma‘lûmât 17 (1908), pp. 377-379. Ma‘lûmât 22 (1908), pp. 489-490. Roff, “Sanitation and Security,” pp. 144, 147-148, 158; Christopher Low, “Empire and the Hajj,” pp. 273, 282-284.

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entrusted the protection of its subjects to the French Consulate. But the rapid increase in pilgrim numbers reinforced by the progress in transportation forced the Russian Foreign Ministry to assume a direct interest in the conditions of its Muslim subjects in the Hijaz. The first Russian consul in Jeddah was Shagimardan Miriasovich Ibragimov, who had served in Turkestan for a long time. Following his early death in 1892, no Muslim was appointed as consul. But the Russian embassy in Istanbul and the consulate in Jeddah acutely recognised the necessity of Muslim in63 termediaries, since the British used their Muslim agents effectively. Pilgrims invoked their citizenship as a means of receiving assistance from the Russian diplomatic representatives, who were in turn ready to take practical meas64 ures on their behalf. Among those seeking Russian consular protection were individuals who had originally escaped Russian military service, prosecution, and debt, and stayed as Ottoman subjects in Mecca and Medina for a protracted period; such individuals often managed to maintain a close connection to the homeland, fre65 quently travelling between the Hijaz and Russia. In return for diplomatic assistance, the Russian consulate in Jeddah relied on these people for its operation in the 66 holy places, since no Muslim was allowed to travel outside of the walls of Jed67 dah. Even some individuals from Chinese Turkestan posed as Russian subjects with the necessary documents issued at the Russian consuls; while these Muslims from China intended to use Russia’s prestige so that they should be treated decently en route, Russian diplomats were also ready to protect them, thereby assert68 ing their authority before Ottoman officials. Shakirdzhan Ishaev, a dragoman of the consulate, commended Ibragimov for his attempts to guard compatriots from 63

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A strategic thinking of the meaning of the Russian consulate in Jeddah is contained in AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502a, d. 425; op. 502b, d. 238. On Ibragimov’s career in the Kazakh steppe and Turkestan, see E. A. Masanov, “Sh. M. Ibragimov – drug Ch. Ch. Valikhanova,” Vestnik Akademii nauk Kazakhskoi SSR 9 (1964), pp. 53-60. See also Meyer, “Immigration,” pp. 23-26; Selim Deringil, “The Ottoman Empire and Russian Muslims: Brothers or Rivals?” Central Asian Survey 13:3 (1994), p. 414. Some tried to gain proxy from the rich to undertake the hajj on behalf of them. This practice called “substitute hajj (badal hajj)” was popular particularly in the Volga-Ural Region. ‘Abdullâh Battâl, ‘Abd al-Walî Yâwshif (Orenburg, 1912), p. 13. See one female peasant Maguri Ismagilova’s testament, TsGIARB, f. I-295, op. 11, d. 860, ll. 84-86. See also observations of the Russian consulate in Jeddah, see AVPRI, f. 180, op. 517/2, d. 5322, ll. 219ob.-220, 230ob.-231; Nikol’skii, “Palomnichestvo musul’man,” p. 291; Hajj Safarî, p. 44. AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502b, d. 3371, ll. 18ob.-19; f.180, op.517/2, d.5322, ll.102b; Tukholka, “Russkie musul’mane,” pp. 482-484. Even Muslim interlocutors of European powers found themselves at risk to their own life. On the locals’ assault on the British, French, and Russian consuls in 1895, see Nikol’skii, “Palomnichestvo musul’man,” p. 282; Hajj Safarî, p. 35; Roff, “Sanitation and Security,” pp. 147, 155; Christopher Low, “Empire and the Hajj,” pp. 284-285. Litvinov, Vneregional’noe palomnichestvo, pp. 144-145. See also AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502b, d. 3371, ll. 30-31; Otchet Shtabs-kapitana Davletshina, p. 120.

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“locusts,” or local wily guides and brokers. The consulate provided safe custody for money and belongings of the pilgrims; if anyone died during the pilgrimage, the 70 consulate would send the remains back to the heirs. When the Orenburg Mufti Muhammadyâr Sultânûf stopped in Beirut on his way back home from the hajj, he asked the Russian consul to furnish 150 destitute pilgrims from Ufa and its neighbouring provinces with sixty-four Turkish lira each; the mufti himself handed the 71 money to each pilgrim. The Russian state saw the hajjis as a challenge and leverage. This oscillation significantly depended on difference in behaviors between domestic authorities and diplomatic representatives. On the one hand, the domestic agencies found themselves challenged by the international hygienic conventions and the anticolonial uprising in Andijan. On the other hand, the consular officials in the Ottoman territory were disposed to see the protection of hajjis – including even those whose status as Russian subjects was dubious – as leverage to boost Russia’s prestige in the Muslim world. While the hajjis might criticize attempts by the state to control their passage, they were not above playing the Russian authorities off against their Ottoman counterparts when it so suited their interests. More detailed study remains to be done to discern the extent of disconnection and interrelationship between the domestic and diplomatic agencies, drawing also upon documents of the Interior Ministry’s Department of Religious Affairs and the Governor-Generalships of the Turkestan and Caucasus. What was the rationale behind the recruitment of the two Tatar officials from Tashkent, Shagimardan Miriasovich Ibragimov and Shakirdzhan Ishaev, for the Russian consulate at Jeddah? What made the Interior Ministry permit Mufti Muhammadyâr Sultânûf to undertake the hajj? At any rate, either negatively or positively, interactions with the state were an integral part of the broad range of the hajj experience.

The Domestic Impact of Returned Hajjis In the Tatar press and literature after 1905, travelogue writers sought to provide the reading public with a new perspective on their society gleaned from experiences and encounters over the course of their travels. Consideration of the differences between nationalities and madhhabs was not itself a novelty of the post-1905 period, of course: it is a theme also in earlier accounts, such as the work of Shihâb alDîn al-Marjânî. But what was new after 1905 was the ways in which hajjis articulated and instrumentalised their experiences by means of the printed word. As Ad69 70 71

Ishaev, “Mekka,” pp. 62-64. AVPRI, f. 180, op. 517/2, d. 5322, ll. 117-117ob. See a negotiation between the Russian consulate and the Hijaz governor-general over estate left after the death of one Bashkir Nurligaian Saraev, and petitions from his inheritors in AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502b, d. 3292. AVPRI, f. 149, op. 502a, d. 1595, ll. 13-18.

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eeb Khalid argues, different groups of intellectuals derived varying meanings from their experiences in the Ottoman Empire, informed as they were by a variety of immediate political concerns respectively rooted in their own particular local 72 struggles. One of the ways in which travelogue writers exploited their border-crossing episodes was to assume a cosmopolitan and European-inflected vantage point from which to highlight the backwardness of their fellow Muslims. Travelers from 73 Turkestan and the Kazakh steppe were a typical object of this type of critique. In early 1906 Khayr Allâh al-‘Uthmânî, imam of Qârghâlî, returned home from the hajj on the Russian steamship “Odessa.” He lamented the filthiness of some of the Kazakh travelers, as well as the inability of his fellow Muslims to impress upon the negligent crew their rights as passengers; as a result, he says, the hajjis were 74 treated as if they were beasts (haywân). In his hajj guidebook, ‘Alî Ridâ’ similarly cites the behavior of Sarts, Kazakhs, and Kirghiz as examples to be frowned upon. He relates that Kazakh and Kirghiz travelers brought so much meat and sausage (qâzliq) with them that they had to dispose of rotting remains, and notes how people dressed like Sarts (Sârt qiyâfatlî âdamlar) often fell prey to trickery and exploitation; he also tells how illiterate Kazakh, Kirghiz, and Bukharan hajjis could 75 not travel back home, having been cheated into buying the wrong train tickets. Alongside this ‘European’ viewpoint, authors of hajj accounts drew a sharp contrast between the flourishing Islamic civilisation in the past and its escalating decay in the present. While describing the holy nature of the hajj ritual and the history and legend of the Ka‘ba, Khadzhi Salim-Girei Sultanov (an apparent pseudonym of the Orenburg Mufti Muhammadyâr Sultânûf) acknowledged the distaste he felt at Mecca’s present unsanitary appearance. Compared with that “true spirit of Islam” and “pure sharî‘a” which had lasted until the demise of the Abbasid dynasty, 76 the deterioration of Islamic scholarship in Medina grieved him. Sâqmârî, a traveler around the Syria region, also showed readers a distinction between the glorious past of the Islamic dynasties which had prospered there and the present ruin. When he arrived at Damascus from Beirut by train, he felt as if he were a “citizen (ghrâzhdân)” enjoying the full rights of the Islamic dynasty. During his stay, he 72 73

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Adeeb Khalid, “Pan-Islamism in Practice: the Rhetoric of Muslim Unity and its Uses,” in E. Özdalga, ed., Late Ottoman Society: the Intellectual Legacy (London: Routledge, 2005), pp. 206-207. On his way to Odessa, Fâtih Karîmî, chief editor of the Orenburg newspaper Waqt, found that “ignorance and fanaticism (jâhilâna ta‘assub)” made a fellow traveler from Turkestan fond of reading a Kazan Muslim newspaper, which was inclined to overemphasize the Ottomans’ success in the Balkan War. Karîmî, Istânbûl maktûblarî, pp. 6-7. Waqt 21 April 1906, 1. See also the same al-‘Uthmânî’s condemnation of the “Sarts” for their messy behavior on their way to Odessa in the train cars. Waqt 24 June 1912, 2. Ridâ’, Hâjjîlarga Rafîq, pp. 10, 63, 81. Sultanov, “Sviashchennaia oblast’ musul’man,” pp. 114-126.

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tried to find what he had read about beautiful and flourishing Damascus, only to 77 encounter filthy streets and corrupt and sluggish local Ottoman authorities. The growing proliferation of hajj accounts and guides served as a reminder and 78 educator of the Prophet’s life and the early history of Islam. This was compatible with the “scripturalist” tradition of Islamic reformism in this region turning exclus79 ively to the texts of the Quran and Hadith. Some argued that the hajj could not be 80 replaced with the visit to the Bulghar site, regarding the latter as heresy (bid‘a). But this scripturalist disposition should not be equated with that of the Wahhabis 81 going so far as to pull down the mausoleums of the Prophet’s family. On the contrary, the beginning of the twentieth century saw a rise in people’s interest in the life of the Prophet, and enthusiasm for the celebration of His birthday (Mawlid alnabî), particularly among mothers eager to cite Muhammad as a moral exemplar 82 for their children. A similar upsurge was observed in British India in the late nineteenth century: it occurred at the same time as the dissemination of the hajj experience in the form of printed accounts and the explosive circulation of biographies of 83 Muhammad. In the Volga-Ural region people celebrated the Mawlid calmly, organising evenings of poem recitals praising the Prophet and narrations of the 84 Prophet’s life at mosques, schools, and other cultural facilities. This may have occurred under the influence of contemporary practice in the Middle East, where “Islamic orthodoxy” derived from “purification of Islam” began to attack the chaotic 85 and showy celebration of the Mawlid. Nevertheless, having the Mawlid accom86 panied by music and plays remained highly controversial among the local ulama. 77 78 79 80 81 82

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Shûrâ 18 (1913), 551-553; 19 (1913), 579-581; 20 (1913), 612-614. Shûrâ 1 (1908), 9-12; 3 (1908), 72-74; 4 (1908), 102-103. On the formation of this “scripturalist” approach, see Kemper, Sufii i uchenye. I use the term “scripturalist” deriving from Clifford Geertz, Islam Observed: Religious Development in Morocco and Indonesia (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968). Sh. H., ‘Ulamâ’ Târîkhî (Kazan, 1907), p. 28. See also Ingeborg Baldauf, “Jadidism in Central Asia within Reformism and Modernism in the Muslim World,” Die Welt des Islams 41:1 (2001), pp. 82-83. On the connection between Muslim mobility and the increased celebration of the Mawlid, see Fakhr al-Dîn, Shaykh Zayn Allâh hadratining tarjama-i hâlî, pp. 20-21; Maktab 2 (1914), 29-31. See a special issue of the Kazan-based female journal dedicated to the Mawlid. Sûyum Bîka 7 (1914). Barbara D. Metcalf, “The Pilgrimage Remembered: South Asian Accounts of the Hajj,” in Eickelman and Piscatori, Muslim Travelers, p. 88. Qûyâsh 2 February 1914, 2;Yûlduz 4 February 1914, 2-3. Kazuo Ohtsuka, An Anthropological Approach to the Modern and Islam (Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press, 2000; in Japanese), pp. 166-171. See a condemnation in the Orenburg journal Dîn wa Ma‘îshat 6 (1914), 94. In his reply to an inquiry about legality of the Mawlid, Ridâ’ al-Dîn b. Fakhr al-Dîn regarded it as mubâh, namely, being unhindered in terms of the Islamic legal tradition. Shûrâ 2 (1914), 56-57. I discuss more in detail in my forthcoming article “Holidays in Kazan: Public Sphere and Politics over Religious Authority among Tatars in 1914,” Slavic Review.

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More broadly, did the intensified connectivity to the Hijaz bring about any remodeling of the intellectual milieu in the Volga-Ural region? If so, how and to what extent did this occur? Much remains to be done in examining local narratives produced in the second half of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth centuries; for the moment, it may be safe to say that the spread of the scripturalist approach to Islam required increasing numbers of specialists in the Arabic language and of those capable of directly interpreting the Quran and Hadith and translating 87 the Arabic sources of the Islamic renewal into Tatar. It is possible to observe among the local learned a confluence of intellectual streams, one in the traditional direction of Bukhara and another reaching the Hijaz. The village of Sterlibash in Ufa province was renowned as one of the regional centers of Islamic scholarship inheriting the tradition of Niyâzqulî al-Turkmânî 88 (d. 1821), shaykh of the Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya. According to the village history, the first hajji was Muhammad Hârith b. Ni‘mat Allâh b. Bîktimir b. Tûqây (1810-1870). Returning from Mecca, Medina, and Damascus in 1860, he brought home many books as well as various prayer rules which he had observed in Mecca and Medina. At least two of his sons undertook the hajj. ‘Abd al-Majîd (1867-1893) studied in Bukhara from 1886 to 1892, left for Mecca in March 1893, and died there in June; ‘Abd al-Qâdir (b. 1866) went to Mecca in 1889 and remained to study in Medina, returning home some time later in order to teach recitation of the Quran 89 (qirâ‘a). Two sons of Muhammadî b. Sâlih al-‘Umarî, whose Safarnâma is analyzed in this article, worked as mullahs at the Eleventh mosque in Kazan: the elder one came back from his study in Mecca in 1885, and the younger one stayed in 90 Bukhara for four to five years. At the beginning of the twentieth century, students from Russia organised the fraternal societies in Mecca and Medina and strove to

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Stéphane A. Dudoignon, “Echoes to al-Manār among the Muslims of the Russian Empire: A preliminary research note on Riza al-Din b. Fakhr al-Din and the Šūrā (19081918),” in S. A. Dudoignon, H. Komatsu, and Y. Kosugi, eds., Intellectuals in the Modern Islamic World: Transmission, transformation, communication (London: Routledge, 2006), pp. 85-116. See also Baldauf, “Jadidism in Central Asia,” pp. 74-77. Babadžanov, “On the History of Naqšbandīya-Muğaddidīya,” pp. 385-413; Anke von Kügelgen, “Rastsvet Nakshbandiia-Mudzhaddidiia v Srednei Transoksanii s XVIII – do nachala XIX vv.: opyt detektivnogo rassledovaniia,” in Sufizm v Tsentral’noi Azii (zarubezhnye issledovaniia) (St. Petersburg: Filologicheskii Faku’ltet, 2001), pp. 308-314; Kemper, Sufii i uchenye, pp. 141-151. Muhammad Shâkir Tûqâyîf, Târîkh-i Istarlî Bâsh (Kazan, 1899), pp. 11, 15-18. According to one Jadid intellectual, the art of reciting the Quran (tajwîd) was well developed in Cairo, Medina, and Istanbul. Therefore, it was those teachers with their training in these centers who taught this subject in the reformed maktabs, not those who had studied in Bukhara. Dzh. Validov, Ocherk istorii obrazovannost' i literatury tatar (Kazan: Izdatel’stvo “Iman,” 1998; orig. Moscow, 1923), pp. 71-72. Sh. H., ‘Ulamâ’ Târîkhî, pp. 36-38.

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maintain the unity of alumni and gain the patronage of people of their original re91 gions. Describing an itinerary of the hajj, the organ of the Orenburg Spiritual Assembly Ma‘lûmât also advised pilgrims to visit al-Azhar in Cairo, not merely for pleasure but in order to understand the educational conditions and ideas of teachers and students: “for here”, the author writes, “are Muslim students from all over the world. The brightness of one madrasa’s future will extend to the whole Islamic 92 community.” Around this time many students from Russia were studying at alAzhar, fascinated by the ideas of Muhammad ‘Abduh (1849-1905) and closely fol93 lowing the Islamic reformist journal al-Manâr (Lighthouse). Cairo’s Tatar Student Society (Tâtâr talabasî jam‘îyatî) actively advertised in the influential Muslim press of the Volga-Ural region its efforts to integrate students from Russia’s various regions. The society sought to explain student life, textbooks, and the education 94 process at al-Azhar. It even suggested that “the diligence of the Tatar students was distinguished among the ten thousand students of al-Azhar.” This benevolent society reported that two travelers, one Mullah Zakî Jân Shâhgirâyif from Bugul’ma county of Samara province and a merchant called Nûr Muhammad Akhtimuf from Menzilinsk county of Ufa province, had made a donation for the furtherance of its 95 activities. The importance of Islamic scholarship transmitted in Arabic was fully appreciated by local patrons of educational reform. The Husaynûf brothers, prominent merchants in Orenburg, spent a substantial part of their wealth to transform traditional schools into those capable of answering the demands of the time. In 1889 they founded a madrasa named after their family, Husayniyya within the Sixth mosque in Orenburg. In his testament stipulating how his pious endowment (waqf) of five hundred thousand rubles should be allocated, Ahmad Husaynûf (1837-1906) 91

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For regulations of the Kazan Student Academic Society (Qazânlî talabasining jam‘îyati ‘ilmîyasî) in Medina, see Yûlduz 8 September 1909, 4. For ones of the Russian Muslim Student Academic Society (Rûsiyalî Islâm talabasîning jam‘îyat-i ‘ilmîyasî) in Mecca, see Shûrâ 6 (1910), 191-192. The latter’s program was sanctioned by the Mecca government on Dhû al-Hijja 3, 1327 (1909). Ma‘lûmât 36 (1909), p. 869. On his way to Mecca, Khayr Allâh al-‘Uthmânî also stayed at al-Azhar for ten days and boastfully narrated this experience. Waqt, 23 August 1912, pp. 2-3. See a student’s critique on the reconciliation between Islam and modern science, “the gate of innovative interpretation (ijtihâd qapûsî),” and the return to the Quran. Yûlduz 13 May 1907, pp. 2-3. See also a letter sent by Kazakh students from Cairo to the Petersburg newspaper. Ulfat 25 October 1906, pp. 4-5. Shûrâ 4 (1908), pp. 114-116; 6 (1908), pp. 168-171; 7 (1908), pp. 200-202. Qazân Mukhbirî 9 April 1906, 1. For more general description on the Tatar philanthropic associations abroad, see Z. S. Minullin, “Fraternal and Benevolent Associations of Tatar Students in Muslim Countries at the Beginning of the Twentieth Century,” in A. von Kügelgen, M. Kemper, A.J. Frank, eds., Muslim Culture, pp. 271-280.

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specified that, in addition to maintaining the Husayniyya madrasa, resources should be used to sponsor the publication of textbooks and to support and teachers (mu‘allim) in practicing the new educational method (usûl-i jadîd). He even planned to send graduates of this madrasa to Russian institutes encompassing the Kazan Tatar Teachers’ School, a gymnasium, a non-classical secondary school (real’noe uchilishche), and universities housing the faculties of the law, Oriental studies, letters, medicine, natural science, and technology. But at the same time Ahmad Husaynûf also wished to dispatch the two most talented madrasa students on the hajj, to ensure that they acquired the most complete possible knowledge of 96 Arabic. Such belief in the intellectual utility of visiting the Hijaz perhaps also explains why Ahmad’s younger brother Ghanî bây (1839-1902) sent his son Muhammad Walî (1869-1930) to Medina for study, and why he also attempted to support 97 the initiative of one Sayyid ‘Alî to build his school there. Tatar travelers stood between Europe and the Islamic world. It was the Tatar printed word that converted their border-crossing experience into ingredients for the local public to think of their own society. The travelers’ identification with Europe clarified what the Tatar society had to overcome, caricaturing Muslim others including those from Central Asia as the warning from which to learn. At the same time, hajj accounts reminded readers of that foundation of Islam by which they might measure how far their life had deviated from example. But this “fundamentalist” approach was different from that of the Wahhabis. They forged the Mawlid as a new symbol of religious and national (millî) activism. Moreover, in order to make this activism thrive in Russia, they well knew the necessity of reconciling Islamic scholarship, expertise in Arabic philology, and modern academic disciplines as taught in Russian.

Conclusion This article has made a preliminary attempt to contextualize the hajj in three fields: European and Islamic global developments, the policies of the Russian state, and the local implications of pilgrimage. In the second half of the nineteenth century, colonial powers attempted to control hajj traffic. Regarding the Hijaz as the birthplace of epidemic and anticolonial subversion, Russian officials also treated the Muslim pilgrims as a sanitary and political menace to state security. The Ottoman government, in turn, endeavored to maintain its paramount position as protector of Mecca and Medina, this as epitomised by the construction of the Hijaz Railway. The Hijaz thus served as a locus of competition among the great powers, into which 96 97

Ridâ’ al-Dîn b. Fakhr al-Dîn, Ahmad Bây (Orenburg, 1911), pp. 41-43. Sharaf, Ghanî Bây, 43-44. Later Muhammad Walî became a sponsor of the religious journal Dîn wa Ma‘îshat (Religion and Life). Röstäm Mökhämmätshin, “Din vä mägïyshät” zhurnalïnïng bibliografiyase (1906-1918) (Kazan: “Iman” näshriyatï, 2002).

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Russia now began to assert its place. Having hitherto lagged behind its other European counterparts, Russia was able with the establishment of its consulate in Jeddah to take a more active role in monitoring the hygiene and political atmosphere among the hajjis, while at the same time protecting the interests of its subjects. Challenged both by the international pressure of taking preventive measures against cholera and by the Andijan Uprising in 1898, the Russian state was ambivalent toward the hajj. On the one hand, elaborating the regulations concerning hajj traffic, the domestic agencies, such as the Royal Anti-plague Commission and the Interior Ministry, were forced to recognize the hajj as a “tolerated evil,” aware as it was that excessive restrictions on the hajj could backfire. On the other hand, many Russian diplomats thought that Muslim travelers could work as a medium for advancing Russia’s prestige abroad. As seen in the practice of the other great powers, Russia also depended on Muslim intermediaries. The government tended to find appropriate figures in Turkestan. Shagimardan Miriasovich Ibragimov was the first consul in Jeddah; Shakirdzhan Ishaev was a dragoman of the consulate; Sayyid Ganî Sayyid ‘Azîmbâyûf was expected to assist the government in the control of hajj traffic. The dispatch of the Orenburg Mufti Muhammadyâr Sultânûf to the hajj could serve as an embodiment of Russia’s protection of its Muslim subjects in the eyes of hajjis as well as of the Volga-Ural Muslims more generally. Staff Captain Abdülaziz Devletshin ‘posed as a “real pilgrim” in order to provide the War Ministry with a detailed picture of the Hijaz and the hajjis. Despite the fear of some Russian officials that the exercise of hajj would foster an anti-Russian unity among the global Muslim population, in practice things proved very different. Encounters with Muslim others and the experiences of crossborder travel forced the Volga-Ural Muslim community to reconceptualize the boundaries within the global Muslim community, as well as between the Islamic world and Europe. To be sure, a tradition of Muslim connectivity continued: Arabic-speaking scholars and Sufis from the Volga-Ural region – notably including shaykhs of the Naqshbandiyya and its Mujaddidiyya and Khâlidiyya sub-branches – traveled extensively to create and maintain networks of learning between Bukhara, Kabul, Istanbul, Mecca, Medina and elsewhere. But the massive popularisation of the hajj in the second half of the nineteenth century seems to have overshadowed this tradition of elite cosmopolitanism: it is unlikely that the ordinary masses knew sufficient Arabic to communicate meaningfully with their coreligionists. And it was against this resultant backdrop of inter-Muslim cultural confusion that ‘Alî Ridâ’’s functional guidebook was circulated alongside the hajjnâmas and brochures of Manâsik al-Hajj. Confronted with a world which was strange to them, common travelers to the Hijaz increasingly depended upon familiar local networks of tekkes and a system of guides each catering to a single communal group.

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Moreover, at the beginning of the twentieth century the act of narrating one’s hajj experiences acquired an instrumental significance in the Tatar press and literature. Local-language accounts of pilgrimage served as an arena for the local Muslim public to probe not into only their own long-standing habits and intellectual traditions, but also into novel expertise and practice imported by the travelers and students abroad. Standing at a trans-national vantage point, reformist travelers often made critical observations about the Sarts, Kazakhs, and Ottoman society, with the intention of inspiring readers to reappraise their own society in turn. At the same time, accounts of pilgrimage served to inculcate the locals with knowledge of Muhammad’s life and the history of Islam. This tendency accorded with the contemporary scholarly aspiration toward direct consultation of the texts of the Quran and the Hadith. Young students traveling to the intellectual centers in Ottoman territory were eager to establish the innovative ideas of al-Manâr and practice of the Mawlid in their own local context. Fully aware of the Russian environment of their religious and national activism, Tatar travelers and the local public alike converted the border-crossing experience and expertise into leverage with which they might redesign their regional Muslim community.

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Ill. 1: Odesskii listok (illiustrirovannoe prilozhenie) 21 November 1908, p. 5. The man in turban and showy attire at the center is Sayyid Ganî Sayyid ‘Azîmbâyûf, proprietor of a hâjjî khâne in Odessa.

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Ill. 2: Odesskii listok 21 November 1908, p. 6.

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Ill. 3: Odesskii listok 21 November 1908, p. 7.

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Ill. 4: Odesskii listok 21 November 1908, p. 8.

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Following Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, a Tatar Globetrotter on the Way to Mecca

Alexandre Papas 1

Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm was born in Tara (near Tobolsk) in 1857 or 1854. His family came from Bukhara and was part of the Uzbek mercantile diaspora which had migrated to Western Siberia in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; Abdurreşîd nevertheless called himself a “Russian Turk” or, more often, a “Tatar”. After having completed his education at a madrasa in the region of Kazan, he went to the Middle East, spent several months in Istanbul and settled in the Haramayn where he studied theology and Arabic. He went back to Russia in 1885 and became professor (müderris) at a madrasa in Tara, applying the educational principles of Jadidism. Though close to the ideas of Ismail Gasprinskii, Abdurreşîd was strongly opposed to European domination and constantly emphasised the defense of Islam. In 1892, he was appointed a qâdî at the Muslim Spiritual Assembly in Ufa, but resigned a few months later because of conflicts with the mufti. He left Russia for the Ottoman lands. Then, in 1893-94, the indefatigable traveler moved to Istanbul. Between 1897 and 1900, he made a long journey from Egypt to Chinese Turkestan, crossing Palestine, Italy, France, the Balkans, and the Caucasus. Back to Russia in 1904, he was deeply involved in the political agitation which followed the Russo-Japanese war and the Russian revolution of 1905. A leading architect of the Union of the Muslims of Russia and editor of several journals defending the rights of Muslims in the Empire, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm was suspected by the authorities and forced to leave the political scene. He went back to Tara then settled in Kazan with his family. It was in 1908 that he began his greatest journey. The Tatar globetrotter visited Siberia, Buryatia, China, Japan, Korea, Singapore, Borneo and India, and returned westward to the Hijaz at the beginning of 1910. He described his extraordinary travels in a thick book published in Istanbul in 1910, untitled Âlem-i İslâm ve 2 Jâpûnyâda İntişâr-i İslâmiyat. This famous travelogue has aroused considerable 1

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For a biography (life and works) of Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, see İsmail Türkoğlu, Sibiryalı Meşhur Seyyah Abdürreşid İbrahim (Ankara: Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı, 1997). Unfortunately, only a few pages (pp. 65-67) are devoted to his hajj in 1909-10. The list of İbrâhîm’s writings is very well done, although there are still unpublished works preserved in manuscript form. See also Nadir Özbek, “Abdürreşid İbrahim (1857-1944), The Life and Thought of a Muslim Activist” (Master Diss., Boğazıcı Üniversitesi, 1994). In 190507, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm wrote an autobiography untitled Tarjama-yi Hâlım yâka Bâshıma Kelenler (Saint Petersburg: Ibrâhîmofning Elîktrîq Bâsma Khânesî, n.d.). See his portrait in ill. 1. I use two versions: the original Ottoman text ‘Âlem-i İslâm ve Jâpûnyâda İntişâr-i

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interest over the past years, especially the chapters dealing with Japan. In short, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, while travelling in the world of Islam (âlem-i îslâm) to better understand the situation of Muslims in Asia, sought also to discover how the Japanese had been able to defeat the Russian army in 1905 and to learn whether the former could support the cause of Muslims oppressed by the European powers. In the Land of the Rising Sun, he discovered successively three things: at a first glance, a completely different culture; then, a national identity, free from European influence; lastly, an unexpected similarity between Japan and Islam, between Japanese and Turks. There emerged the idea of the Islamisation of Jâpûnyâ. Indeed, a full third of the Âlem-i İslâm is devoted to Japan. But, as we already said, Abdurreşîd kept on traveling in the Far East and South Asia, and detailed his adventures along the way back to the Middle East toward Mecca. This part of the 4 book has not yet received much attention in research. Admittedly, the narrative of Abdurreşîd’s hajj seems less colourful and original than his depictions of Tokyo or Yokohama; and, for sure, his passion was, above all, Japan, so much that he returned in 1938 and died there in August 1944, buried in a cemetery near Tokyo. Yet, his pilgrimage too proved to be a great experience – both religiously and politically. The “famous traveler” (seyyâh-i şehir), as the Ottomans called him, brings out numerous facts concerning travel conditions, route, organisation; he notes down his personal impressions, gives advice on different matters, and imagines solutions. Beyond that, as we will see in detail, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm accords his hajj a politicoreligious aim which sums up his intellectual convictions – Reformism, pan-Islamism, and anti-colonialism – including a certain idea of himself as the Turkic or Central Asian missing link between the Far and the Middle East.

The Indian Gate Let us now begin to follow Abdurreşîd’s movements. After several weeks of traveling around in India during the autumn of 1909, Abdurreşîd has ended up in Bombay. One day, he receives a telegraph from Singapore saying that a Japanese, nam-

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İslâmiyat, 2 vol. (Istanbul: Ahmad Sâkî Bek Matbaası, 1328-29/1910-13) and the Turkish adaptation by Ertuğrul Özalp Âlem-i İslâm ve Japonya’da İslamiyet’in Yayılması, 2 vol. (Istanbul: İşaret Yayınları, 2003). I will give first the pagination of the Ottoman original text then the pagination of the Turkish version in brackets. All references figure in the second volume. See mainly Selçuk Esenbel, “İslam Dünyasında Japonya İmgesi: Abdürreşid İbrahim ve Geç Meiji Dönemi Japonları”, Toplumsal Tarih, 1995, pp. 18-26; François Georgeon, “Un voyageur tatar en Extrême-Orient au début du XXe siècle,” Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique 32:1 (1991), pp. 47-59; Abdürecchid Ibrahim, Un Tatar au Japon. Voyage en Asie 1908-1910, translation, introduction and notes by François Georgeon and Işık Tamdoğan-Abel (Paris: Actes Sud, 2004). The only exception being the chapters elegantly translated in Abdürecchid Ibrahim, Un Tatar au Japon. Voyage en Asie 1908-1910, pp. 227- 247.

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ed Yamaoka, has left Tokyo and is about to come to Bombay to meet him. After a few days, the mysterious visitor arrives and introduces himself (in Russian) to Ab6 durreşîd. He wants to convert to Islam and he would be glad to serve the Tatar whenever he goes. Having reached the hotel, Abdurreşîd makes Yamaoka recite the 7 shahâda three times, gives him the name of Ömer and teaches the basics of Islam . From then on, they will travel together, heading for the Haramayn. Through the person of Yamaoka, our Central Asian pilgrim will bring Japan to Arabia and introduce for the first time a Japanese to the pilgrimage to Hijaz. Before achieving this goal, they have to find a steamship (vapûr) ticket for Jeddah. Here begin the problems. Like their fellow pilgrims – mainly Indians – they wait for the caravan leader (kafilesâlâr), Mevlevî Abdurrahîm Sahib, a wealthy local lord of the Hyderabad Muslim State. He arrives in Bombay on Zilkade 1, 8 1327/November 14, 1909. Being responsible for the hajj caravan, he is the one who offers tickets and round whom the pilgrims are crowding. Protected by the police, his house is kept inaccessible so that Abdurreşîd cannot even see him. And every day, crowds desperately push the door to get in although only a few are admitted. Stuck at the entrance, nostalgic, he remembers the time when the kafilesâlâr accorded him respect and ordered his secretary to inscribe his name on the register… but 9 now, he needs a ticket. Day after day, the same scene repeats itself. Abdurreşîd comes to Mevlevî Abdurrahîm’s house, and he is severely pushed away by the police, like many others; from morning to evening, people try to get in, one by the 10 door, another through the window. From this dark picture of hajj preparations, 11 the Tatar observer strikes a disillusioned note: while unfortunate pilgrims, to fulfil their religious duty, piously strive to collect and pay large sums of money, officials in charge of the hajj organisation rob them mercilessly. It is in fact a whole system of spoliation, at every level: Bombay police officers extort money from thousands 5 6

7 8 9 10 11

Âlem-i İslâm, p. 65 (311-312). On Yamaoka Kōtarō (1880-1959) and his activities, see Tsutomu Sakamoto, “The First Japanese Hadji Yamaoka Kōtarō and Abdürreşid İbrahim”, in Selçuk Esenbel and Inaba Chiharu, eds., The Rising Sun and the Turkish Crescent. New Perspectives on the History of Japanese Turlish Relations (Istanbul: Boğaziçi University Press, 2003), pp. 105121; a longer version exists in Japanese, as “Yamaoka Kōtarō no Mekka junrei to Abudyurureshito Iburahimu,” in Masaru Ikei and Tsutomu Sakamoto, eds, Kindai Nihon to Toruko Sekai (Tokyo, Keisō Shobō, 1999), pp. 157-217; also Selçuk Esenbel, “Japanese Interest in the Ottoman Empire,” in Bert Edström, ed., The Japanese and Europe. Images and Perception (Richmond, Surrey: Japan Library, 2000), pp. 116-118. See his portrait in ill. 2. Âlem-i İslâm, p. 74-75 (322-323). Âlem-i İslâm, p. 171 (459). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 172-173 (459-460). They met in Hyderabad and talked about the hajj, see Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 108-109 (369-371). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 173-174 (461-462). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 174-176 (463-465).

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of pilgrims each day just for the registration; brokers (simsâr), coming from Punjab, Calcutta or Hyderabad, extract payment for their ‘service’, despite actually doing very little; ferries unions (vâpûrlar sindîkaları) make enormous profits; consuls themselves take part in this generalised robbery asking money for passports and bakshish. Thus British or Russian governments earn enormous sums thanks to the 12 hajj: each year, 40-50,000 Muslims of Russia go on pilgrimage, each one of whom gives 50 rubles; from India, each of the 70-80,000 hajjis pays 8 liras, providing 640,000 liras annually. Pilgrims from Java are exploited by the Dutch government; Tunisians, Moroccan and Algerians by the French; Egyptians and Indians by the 13 British; Turkestanis, Iranians, Chineses and Tatars by Russians. Here, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm deals with two major problems at that time – the monetary conditions of hajj and the European domination along the hajj route. The Quran itself, stipulating that “It is the duty of all men towards God to come to the House a pilgrim, if he is able to make his way there” (3:97), requires candidates for the pilgrimage to have the physical as well as financial means to pay the trip to Mecca. Despite this Quranic requirement, hajjis in the early twentieth century continued to comprise among their number many dervishes and indigents following 14 the caravans or traveling all the way by foot. Some transport companies even dis15 tribute tickets for free to destitute pilgrims. But the times are changing. Abdurreşîd witnesses the slow but sure “merchandisation” of hajj applied at the global scale. The “hajj market” is certainly nothing new, as has been shown by Michael 16 Pearson; what shocks Abdurreşîd more is the recent involvement of European colonial powers in this business. Their interest in the Islamic pilgrimage is only pecuniary and political in the sense that, by issuing passports and visas, controlling routes and flows, they extend their domination over Muslim peoples. “Such is the situation of the wretched hajjis”, he concludes. In the hope to avoid this organised spoliation, especially for the potential hajjis departing from Japan, Abdurreşîd and Ömer Efendi (Yamaoka) draft a concrete plan: the Japan government would rent a steamship and sell tickets at a fixed rate, thus ensuring that the government would make not a financial profit (mâddî menfaat) but a spiritual (manevî) one. They even submit their plan to the Japanese consul in Bombay – without success… 12 13 14 15 16

On the evolution of the Tsarist policy toward hajjis from Russian, see Daniel Bower, “Russian Roads to Mecca: Religious Tolerance and Muslim Pilgrimage in the Russian Empire”, Slavic Review 55:3 (1996), pp. 567-584. For a picture of a Chinese Muslim pilgrim, see ill. 3. See the description of dervishes in Hossein Kazem-Zadeh, Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque en 1910-1911 (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1912), pp. 53-54; Firmin Duguet, Le pèlerinage de La Mecque au point de vue religieux, social et sanitaire (Paris: Rieder, 1932), p. 37. H. Kazem-Zadeh, Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque, pp. 8. Michael N. Pearson, Pilgrimage to Mecca. The Indian Experience 1500-1800 (Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1996).

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The days pass; Abdurreşîd still has no ticket. In a last attempt, he goes to 17 Mevlevî Abdurrahîm Sahib’s door: many people have been maltreated by the police and could not even see the kafilesâlâr, and among them is Abdurreşîd. One hajji goes through the door, whipping and yelling: “I came here every day, I gave so much money, and finally they cheated me. The ship leaves tomorrow. Oh fellow Muslims, don’t waste your time, these cursed people conned us.” In fact, there are no tickets left. At this moment, Abdurreşîd sees one of Abdurrahîm Sahib’s brokers; he politely informs this figure that his name has been inscribed in the register, but the broker, without even looking at him, replies that there are no more tickets and there is no possibility to see Abdurrahîm Sahib. Sad and anxious, the Tatar globetrotter does not want to inform Ömer Efendi he will not be able to join him. At least, he could have found a ticket for his Japanese fellow. Early on the morning of the next day, Zilkade 7/November 20, they both go to the steamship with their luggage. Abdurreşîd seeks some stratagem but, as they approach, he realizes there is no way to enter the ship, since everyone is checked at the entrance on the pretext of sanitary controls. He has to renounce and says to Ömer Efendi he must go to buy provisions for the trip, he will meet him later on the ship. He gives him his bag and all his money. Before leaving, he asks some pilgrims to take care of his Japanese Muslim friend in case he misses the ship. They gladly accept. Is this the end of Abdurreşîd’s pilgrimage? Fortunately not: a providential man 18 will come to his rescue. Heartbroken and penniless, our traveller walks the Bombay streets thinking anxiously of Ömer Efendi, the guest (misafir) from afar who was still a beginner in Islam, and who may be feeling lost among ignorant Muslims. Abdurreşîd keeps on walking and sees joyful pilgrims heading for the steamship. Suddenly, he meets someone who greets him in a friendly way as if they knew each other. The man is a pilgrim from Bukhara. They exchange polite remarks, whereupon the Tatar explains his problems to the Bukhari. The latter takes the purse attached to his belt and gives all his money to the former, asking to be reimbursed later in Jeddah. Deeply moved by the gesture, Abdurreşîd asks the unknown Bukhari if they know each other. “No”, says the man, “but you have my complete trust since you are a believer.” This short scene – deliberately described in touching terms in the travelogue – illustrates the strength of Islamic solidarity. In contrast with the rapacity and corruption of European colonists, Muslim pilgrims assist each other and maintain a fraternal relationship. Our author concludes: “this virtue, this merit are not shared by every nations (…) between us, there was no other tie (alâka) but Islam.”

17 18

Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 178-179 (468-469). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 179-180 (469-470).

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19

He goes back to the pier. Ömer Efendi has already boarded the ship. Pilgrims are boarding one by one. While his Bukhari friend goes to the office of disinfection and inspection (tebhîrât ve muayene dairesî), Abdurreşîd runs to the branch office to purchase a ticket. On the way, he hears a voice behind him saying “Mevlevî Sahib! Mevlevî Sahib!” He is still running when someone grasps his shoulder and tells him that Mevlevî Abdurrahîm Sahib is waiting for him. In spite of his reluctance to meet again the one who offended him, and forgetting his self-respect, he comes to see the caravan leader. After a few apologies, Abdurrahîm Sahib gives him two first-class tickets. Then Abdurreşîd has to go through the office of disinfection and inspection… “The treatment they inflict on the wretched pilgrims is so deplorable that I prefer not to say anything about it.”

On Board the “Viyana” 20

Once on board, he meets up again with Ömer Efendi. They go together to their first-class cabin and find a very basic room, horribly hot, and without any bed or mattress but just a wooden plank. Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm acknowledges that Western standards are much superior. His opinion is confirmed as they visit the rest of the ship: the cabins are all the same, even the kafilesâlâr’s; those travelling deck class at least have fresh air. Pilgrims continue boarding into the evening and, an hour before the evening prayer, the steamship finally leaves Bombay. People recite loudly 21 “Embark in it! In God’s Name (…)” According to Abdurreşîd, the passengers comprise 1,155 pilgrims, mainly Indians, among them many Bengalis and Deccanis from Hyderabad, three or five men from Bukhara, about ten Arabs, one Japanese and one Tatar. Most of them are poor people. The first night of the journey sounds magical. If the “Viyana” boat offers limited comfort, it is extremely clean. Pilgrims relax everywhere on decks but nobody bothers anyone else. The weather is pleasant, and in the moonlight, people wish each other a nice journey, they pray and recite the Quran; after the evening prayer everybody is exhausted and goes to sleep, except the sailors. On the morning after this night of calm delight, Abdurreşîd explores the ship. Horrified by what he sees, he describes the apocalyptic scene of the vessel “covered by dirt and refuse, where it is impossible to touch the floor. Some have urinated on the spot, others have defecated where they were lying, not mentioning the vomit.” While some are still asleep – they did not wake up for the morning prayer – others cut wood, knead dough, and cook on iron stoves. For the Tatar Reformist intellectual, these people are pilgrims in name only: despite the fact that they are going to the Hijaz to submit themselves to divine justice, on the boat they think of food or sleep before 19 20 21

Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 180-181 (470). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 181-182 (471-472). Quran 11:41.

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prayer. They have forgotten their obligations and they neglect cleanliness. Such is the constant ambivalence of Abdurreşîd toward his “Muslim brothers”, as he alternately admires their virtues and despises their habits. He nevertheless notes with emotion the death en route of an aged Bengali pilgrim whose corpse is dropped in the sea by fellow pilgrims. 22 On the day Zilkade 14/November 27, the sea caravan arrives at Aden. No longer an Ottoman territory at that time, Aden is ruled by the British. The Âlem-i İslâm devotes a few words to the port, presented as a charcoal (kömür) depot, inhabited by Arab merchants who belong to Shafi‘i or Hanafi madhhab, and by Zaydis and Ismailis, all under the control of British. Then the ferry enters the Red Sea and crosses the Bâb-ı Mendeb (also called Bâb-ı İskender) in the middle of the night. On Zilkade 17/November 30, they approach Kamaran Island, the famous quarantine station for hajj pilgrims. Before the steamship reaches the coast, two or three warships which are cruising off the island attract the pilgrims’ attention. As these warships – writes Abdurreşîd – carry Ottoman flags, they create an enormous enthusiasm among the hajjis of the Viyana. The passengers – Abdurreşîd included – do not know exactly who controled the island but the flags on warships give them the answer. They pray, they weep, they shout “May God bless the Sultan!” The fervor is such that the captain has to ask people to calm down so that he can drive the steamship and drop anchor. Naturally, such fervor towards the Ottoman colors is due to the anticolonial sentiment of the Muslims pilgrims coming from British India and having crossed the Arabian Sea then the Red Sea, both controlled almost entirely by the British.

Quarantine in Kamaran 23

Kamaran was established as a lazaretto by the Ottoman authorities in 1881. Its mission was to control individually every pilgrim coming from the Bâb-ı Mendeb, surnamed the Gate of Death because of the cholera epidemics which spread from India to the Middle East through the hajj ships. In his work, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm will address this critical question of public health. For the moment, though, he 24 simply relates how he and Ömer Efendi take their luggage and go ashore. When they arrive at the quarantine (karantîna mevkîî), to their great surprise they see an imposing Christian woman at the door of the disinfection office. Ömer Efendi asks his Tatar companion: “Is this not an Ottoman territory?” “I don’t know,” replies Abdurreşîd. At this moment, a young man comes at the entrance and asks them in Turkish where they come from. Recognising each other as compatriots, they embrace warmly. The Turk has their belongings brought to the assigned confinement 22 23 24

Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 183-184 (474-475). See the picture of Aden in 1909 in ill. 4. F. Duguet, Le pèlerinage de La Mecque, p. 181. Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 184-185 (475-475).

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place (mahbes) and informs them that a certain Dr. Osman Şükrü Bey will take care of them. Henceforth, Abdurreşîd and Ömer Efendi feel like home. Once they get out of the disinfection, like all the pilgrims, they are settled in the quarantine section. They stay in quarantine huts (karantîna koğuşları) made of reeds; according to the traveller, these latter are surprisingly comfortable. 25 When they meet Şükrü Bey, they embrace like old friends. Abdurreşîd introduces his friend Ömer Efendi and presents to the doctor his ideas not only on the 26 Islamisation of Japan but also on the role the Mikado could play. As usual, the Tatar globetrotter addresses people he considers influential in the hope of airing his proposed “Japanese solution”. More pragmatic, the doctor details the reasons of the 27 quarantine: Since India is the nest of cholera and given its contagiousness, each pilgrim coming from there must stay in quarantine. Considering the time of infection, the confinement must last five days to make sure no one is infected. Even if just one hajji were ill with cholera, it would be a disaster. This sanitary measure has been decided by the European nations, continues Dr Osman Şükrü Bey. He thereby alludes to the International Sanitary Conferences held since 1866 (after the catastrophic epidemic of cholera in 1865) in order to struggle against the propaga28 tion of epidemics through the hajj pilgrimage. Less then two years before the hajj of 1909, the situation has been disastrous. Despite the lazarettos in Sinop (on the Black Sea coast in Turkey) and Kamaran, cholera caused about 6,300 deaths after 29 the hajj. Abdurreşîd disagrees with the doctor, suggesting that such sanitary measures are simply unjustified. Worse, they are a political stratagem (melanet-i siyâsî) used 30 31 by the Europeans. And he is not the only one to believe this. According to the 25 26

27 28 29 30

31

Âlem-i İslâm, p. 185 (476). Interestingly, in 1906 rumour has it that the Mikado convened a “congress of religions” to consider, with Christian and Muslim representants, which religion would be suitable for the modernisation of Japan. The rumour probably started in India and has been relayed by great newspapers in Muslim countries. An Egyptian Reformist preacher, ‘Alî Ahmad al-Jirjâwî (d. 1961), who apparently visited Japan at this time and authored a Al-Rihla al-yâbâniyya, claimed that he participated to this congress and that the Mikado secretly converted to Islam. On this point, see the excellent study by the late Alain Roussillon, Identité et modernité. Les voyageurs égyptiens au Japon (XIXe-XXe siècle) (Paris: Actes Sud, 2005) pp. 17, 41, 71-72. Note that Abdurreşîd does not believe in this legend. Âlem-i İslâm, p. 186 (477). For an exhaustive analysis of these successive conferences, see F. Duguet, Le pèlerinage de La Mecque, pp. 129-215. F. Duguet, Le pèlerinage de La Mecque, pp. 209-214. Âlem-i İslâm, p. 188 (480). Abdurreşîd repeats these arguments about cholera in two articles: “Qolera neden tevsî ediyor?”, Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/23 (22 Kasım 1328/November 22, 1910), pp. 364-365; “Qolera var mî?”, Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/25 (2 Aralık 1328/December 2, 1910), pp. 2-3. Such as the kafilesâlâr Mevlevî Abdurrahîm, see Âlem-i İslâm, p. 187 (479-480).

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Tatar observer, the aim is to prevent Muslims to accomplish the hajj. The Russian 32 government was doing likewise: curiously, at the beginning of each month of Receb, a cholera epidemic appeared in one of Russia’s provinces. At this time, hajjis used to depart in Receb and Şabân. After the construction by the Ottomans of the railroad linking Damascus to Medina, the journey was considerably shortened, enabling the hajjis to depart later, that is in Ramazân or Şevvâl. Again curiously – notices Abdurreşîd – the cholera epidemic broke out during these months. “Cholera became Muslim! He was following the lunar calendar!” Therefore, Muslims had to get round the problem: they asked for passports in order to travel to a third-party country, whence they proceeded to the Hijaz. “Cholera himself was so confused!” Regarding the quarantine for those who come from the Hijaz, this is illegal. In the quarantine law, there is an article which says: “the people who come from a country where a contagious illness broke out submit to the quarantine treatment for an indeterminate period in order to protect the public health.” But another article states: “After having been put in quarantine, a person who does not re-cross an infected area need not undergo the quarantine treatment a second time.” Yet, pilgrims coming from Mecca endure the shame of quarantine at Tûr-i Sina (South Sinai); then, when they are in Beirut they are again quarantined; after that, they go to Urla (in the Izmir Gulf), where the procedure is repeated. And if they go to Russia, they are quarantined in Kefe (or Feodosia, southern Crimean coast). According to Abdurreşîd, all these quarantines are not only illegal but also unhygienic. He adds that, in the past, there was an infamous rule which forced every Muslim coming 33 from Istanbul to Russia to remain in quarantine, whatever the season of the year. The ship arrived from Odessa, and among the passengers there were “hundreds of dirty and sloppy Russians” coming from Jerusalem. For them, there was no quarantine. But if there was a Muslim, even if he were a first-class passenger or gentleman (cîndilmen), he had to remain in quarantine. This situation lasted ten years at least. It aroused so much protest that they decided to limit the quarantine rule to those who came back from pilgrimage. However, the Christians who came back from Jerusalem were still not forced to be quarantined. 34 Abdurreşîd is ironical about the British too: if the cholera microbe would look them straight in the eyes and say “I am the cholera microbe”, they would not believe him, at least not before they have found a political advantage in this business. Even if hundreds of thousands of people die at Mecca, there is no quarantine for pilgrims coming back from the Hijaz to India. But in India, for the traveller who 32 33 34

Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 188-189 (480-481). He deals again with the issue of hajjis from Russia in “Haccâc-ı müslimîn ve umûr-u sıhhiyye”, Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/9 (28 Temmuz 1328/ July 28, 1910), pp. 142-143. Âlem-i İslâm, p. 189 (481-482). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 189-190 (482-483).

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travels to Hyderabad by train in third-class, there is a quarantine which works permanently. The conclusion is that none of the measures which Europeans impose on the Ottoman State in the name of health (sıhhiye) are applied in their own territories. In Egypt – our author claims – children’s eyes are attacked by mosquitoes; in India, dirtiness is everywhere; in Saint Petersburg, Schcherbakov Street, Apraksin market or Ligovskii Avenue are just disgusting. On the other hand, in the city of Istanbul, whether in Nişan Tâş, Teşvîkiye, Haydarpaşa, Erenköy, Dîvânyolu or Beyğolu, cleanliness is everywhere. What Abdurreşîd explains vehemently in these chapters of his travelogue corresponds more or less to the position of the Ottoman authorities who refused to sign any International Sanitary Conventions until the 35 Young Turks change health policy in 1910. Based on his experience or knowledge as a Central Asian Muslim, his opinions reflect more widely the confluence of three emerging trends in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries: the hygienist concern, public health and anti-colonialism. In short, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm constantly addresses the question of hygiene with contradictory views on the European “model”; ultimately, he does not believe in international public health policies since they hide imperialist political agendas. On Zilkade 23/December 6, the quarantine is over, and on the 24th, the steam36 ship leaves Kamaran. Every pilgrim puts the ihrâm in the evening; the day after, 37 at the afternoon prayer, they finally approach the port of Jeddah. Ömer Efendi, Abdurreşîd and his Bukhari friend take a caique to reach the wharf and spend the night at the house of İsfendiyar Efendi, an old friend of Abdurreşîd who works as an interpreter at the Russian consulate. The next morning, they join the caravan to go to Mecca. They decide to ride donkeys rather than camels since the formers take 38 twelve hours to reach the holy city, whereas the latter take two days.

At Mecca After a painful journey across a desolate landscape of sand and black rocky outcrops, and a short stopover at the Bedouin village of Hadda, they enter Mecca at sunset. One of the great shaykhs of Mecca, Muhammed Murâd Efendi, comes to meet them in Shaykh Mahmûd Street. As Ömer is tired and indisposed, he goes directly to Murâd’s house while Abdurreşîd is led by a mutawwif (pilgrim guide) to the Masjid al-Harâm. He performs the tawâf and sa‘y, then goes back to the 35 36 37 38

F. Duguet, Le pèlerinage de La Mecque, pp. 181, 215-216. Âlem-i İslâm, p. 191 (483). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 191-192 (484). For a comparison with the Hijazi experience of Javanese pilgrims, see Michael F. Laffan, Islamic Nationhood and Colonial Indonesia. The umma below the winds (London-New York, Routledge, 2003), pp. 50- 54, 195-199. Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 192-193 (485-486). According to H. Kazem-Zadeh, Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque, p. 19, the ride takes twenty hours by camel and ten hours by donkey.

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shaykh’s house. Here again, the Tatar globetrotter, pouring himself a cup of tea 39 from a samovar, feels like home. Muhammed Murâd (Ramzî) Efendî (1855-1934) was a high-ranking Naqshbandi 40 shaykh and ulama. He authored numerous books, such as translations from Persian to Arabic of Ahmad Sirhindî’s Maktubât-i Imâm Rabbânî and of Wâ‘iz Kâshifî’s Rashahât-i ‘ayn al-hayât, as well as a history book in Arabic, untitled Talfîq al-akhbâr, dealing with the Muslims of Russia; he also wrote a number of other published and unpublished works in Persian or in Turkish. At the time of his meeting with Abdurreşîd, Muhammed Murâd had lived in Mecca for almost half a century. He was reputed to have mastered the three languages and to be wellversed in tafsîr and hadith. Unfortunately – Abdurreşîd adds – the shaykh’s merit had not been recognised; now, at the end of his life, he was compelled to work as a doorkeeper (bevvablîk) in a house for Tatar pilgrims (tâtâr hâcı hânesî) at Mecca – which was a shame for such a distinguished ulama. Yet he worked as a doorkeeper only during the pilgrimage season, and the rest of the year he is shaykh in a tekke. With the figure of Muhammed Murâd, a well-known Tatar Sufi master, the Âlem-i İslâm introduces the reader to the inner world of Mecca during the hajj, and more precisely to it Central Asian sociability. Well integrated into Tatar religious (not necessarily Sufi) networks, Abdurreşîd describes the tekkes for Kazan people in 41 the Haramayn: called tekkes, they are essentially houses for pilgrims (hâcı evî) coming from Russia. Such pilgrims live in the tekke for the duration of their stay. People who are in charge of the tekkes take care of pilgrims, and act as servants and doorkeepers; pilgrims pay them whatever they want, this arrangement sometimes giving cause for quarrels. Shaykh Muhammed Murâd Efendi’s tekke is supposed to be one of the best hostelleries in Mecca. Engaged in a sort of networking, 42 as early as the day after his arrival, Abdurreşîd visits several important people: Emin Beyefendi, a famous poet and deputy governor (vâlî vekîlî) of the Hijaz; several ulamas whom he does not name; Colonel Receb Efendî, representant of the 43 Union and Progress Committee of Thessaloniki; Ferîd Efendî, an instructor in Gendarmerie; and Hafız Osman the Blind of Mosul, a poet and official sent by the Ottoman Sultan. 39 40 41 42 43

Âlem-i İslâm, p. 193 (486). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 193-194 (487-488). For further details and references on this important figure, see Thierry Zarcone, Sufi Pilgrims from Central Asia and India in Jeusalem (Kyoto: Research Center for Islamic Area Studies, 2009), pp. 29-32. Âlem-i İslâm, p. 194 (488-489). There are also tekkes (takîya) for Egyptians for example, whether in Mecca or Medina. For a description, see Saleh Soubhy, Pèlerinage à La Mecque et à Médine (Le Caire: Imprimerie Nationale, 1894), pp. 77, 104. Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 194-195 (489). H. Kazem-Zadeh, Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque, p. 34, mentions a club affiliated to the Union and Progress Committee in Mecca; see also, pp. 22-23, the interesting pictures of schools founded in Medina by the Committee.

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Abdurreşîd also meets ordinary pilgrims inside the Harâm. Among the crowds of Bukharans, Afghans, Turkestanis, Chinese, Indians, Javanese, Malaysians, Lebanese, Balkhis, Baghdadis, Yemenites, Egyptians, Maghrebians, Moroccans, Tunisians, Algerians, Syrians, Anatolians, Caucasians, Dagistanis, Azerbaijanis and Iranians, there are also some people from Kazan, and Kazakhs. “I spoke with some of them, encouraging them to make acquaintance and to talk together. Some liked this idea and welcomed it. Others told me they came here only for the cult.” More conclusive is the meeting Abdurreşîd enjoys at Shaykh Muhammed Murâd’s 45 house: one evening, the shaykh invites pilgrims from different countries, different social class and different madhhab. The mufti of Mecca Al-Sayyid Muhammed Zevavî presides over the meeting. “If there was no real decision taken at the end, there were interesting discourses.” For instance, Shaykh Muhammed Murâd gives a sermon and makes an exhortation; he explains that, during their stay at Mecca, Muslims should visit each other, to know each other and establish close relationships. The Japanese Ömer Efendi brings up the union of Oriental peoples, the future of Islam and the possibility to spread it in Japan. The aforementioned Ferîd Efendî claims that Thessaloniki, as the center of the Union and Progress Committee, will become a center for Islam. In brief speeches, pilgrims from India, China and Java defend the the necessity of the union of Islam. A member of the ulama from Tabriz is also in attendance. Despite the limited number of participants, the meeting gives hope to the Tatar activist: “It was really an assembly worthy of brothers in religion who love each other in God. Sermons were given, discourses were made in Arabic, Persian and Turkish. At the end of the gathering, we decided to set up more important meetings and to make predications everyday at the Masjid al-Harâm. It was a good start. For the first time, an Islamic conference occurred in the house of a Tatar ulama, which gave me grounds for pride and satisfaction.” Beside the private appointments and the general meetings, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm 46 observes the city of Mecca itself, focusing on two main problems: hygiene and overcrowding. No effort has been made to clean and enlighten the city, he says. For lack of public toilets, one walks on excrements in streets and public places. It is impossible to respect cleanliness, although it is a part of Islamic education. The city is small and 47 everybody wants to stay near the Ka‘ba. At least 200 or 300,000 people gather; pil44 45 46

47

Âlem-i İslâm, p. 195 (489-490). For a depiction of the various pilgrims and their practices, see H. Kazem-Zadeh, Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque, pp. 48-53. Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 195-196 (490-491). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 196-197 (491-492). According to H. Kazem-Zadeh, Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque, pp. 10, 21, the streets of Mecca are dirty and not paved, there also sanitary problems related to camels’ excrements, mosquitoes and flies. See the picture of Ka‘ba in 1909 in ill. 5. Compare with the statistics for 1910-11 given in Kazem-Zadeh, Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque, p. 59.

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grims relieve themselves, if a sickness breaks out, it can be a disaster. “From a scientifical point of view (fen nokta-i nazarından)”, Mecca is not suited to such mass gatherings. There is no street, roads are narrow, and the means of transport (şuğtuf and taht-ı revân) are unsuitable. Another example: in view of all the leftovers and the dirt from the sacrifice at Mina – notwithstanding minor improvements in the sanitary situation since Governor Osmân Nûrî Pâşâ’s regulations in the 1880s (special places for slaughter, detritus pits, public toilets) – a better solution would be to 48 create a can factory (kânserve fâbrîkası) in Mina to “reuse” the leftovers. But Abdurreşîd nevertheless observes that, thanks to the high spirituality of Islam, for centuries thousands of people have gathered together here over a week, and they do respect public order. Despite the lack of hygiene and the overcrowding, the hajj is a model of mutual respect and solidarity. Like many Tatar Reformist thinkers, our author has ambivalent relationships with his co-religionists. Oscillating between aversion and admiration, accusing Muslims of ignorance and backwardness, defending their piety and sincerity, he considers that the solution to the contradictions of the Islamic community is the unity of Islam… with the help of the Japanese people. With his Japanese friend, the Tatar hajji meets pilgrims in Mina. Celebrating the hajj as an opportunity to get to know Muslims in their unity and diversity, the 49 Âlem-i İslâm particularly mentions Afghans and Yemenis: a distinguished Naqshbandî shaykh from Balkh met at the Ibrâhîm mosque, another respected Afghan named Habîbullâh Khân, several sayyids from Hadhramawt and other Yemenis from whom Abdurreşîd gets news about the Lybian king Idrîs I and the Yemeni Zaydî Imam Yahya. However, Mecca is the privileged place for encounters and meetings. After the ritual of animal sacrifice, hajjis revisit the Harâm for the tawâf alziyârat. Abdurreşîd takes the opportunity to organize a reunion, probably on Zilh50 icce 13, 1327/December 26, 1909. Despite the reluctance of the government members, it is decided to hold the assembly (ictimâî) at the club affiliated to the Union and Progress Committee. Pilgrims from various countries accept to participate: Bukharis, Crimeans, Algerians, Tunisians, Indians, Chinese, Kashgaris and others. The session is opened by one of the Sharifs of Mecca, Şerîf Nâsır. First, Ferîd Efendî, the representant of the Union and Progress Committee, explains once again that the Thessaloniki center will be an “institution” for all Muslims and that all committees established elsewhere should be affiliated to it. Then speakers from each country present their views. Abdullâh Âpânây, an ulama of Kazan, talks about the necessity of the unity of Islam (ittihâd-i islâm) and suggests to create at Mecca a committee for religious science which would represent an authority for ulamas. In fact – our author recalls – every speaker defends the necessary unity of Islam. 48 49 50

Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 204-205 (502-503). Âlem-i İslâm, p. 210 (510-512). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 216-218 (510-522).

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The last speaker is a young student of Al-Azhar who emphasizes the necessity to have a common language, and therefore the necessity for every Muslim to know Arabic. While most of the audience approves his speech, suddenly a member of the Union and Progress Committee, called Abdullâh Qâsım, cuts him short and insults the student. The malaise caused by the incident is such that participants leave the conference room. This is failure. Vexed, Abdurreşîd concludes: “whoever was the responsible and whatever was his intention, it was not a good deed. It caused suspicion among people. Some of the Meccans said this incident had been inspired by the governor. Even though this incident was due to the ignorance of one man, the result was disastrous. For the first time in 1 300 years, pilgrims could have known each other. The meeting at which had been held at Shaykh Murâd Efendî’s house was limited; that one was much more important and it could have gained a semiofficial status. But participants were sorry and left as if they ran away. Afterwards, when the news spread that the government had arrested the speaker, the result was even worse. (…) At Mecca, this year, neither time nor place was favourable for bringing Muslims together. Pilgrims were frightened when they heard that the speaker had been arrested and sent to Istanbul. This young man was a Kurdish student of Al-Azhar and he was apparently an active person.” The end of Abdurreşîd’s hajj is allegorically dark. Two last incidents complete the disillusion: the flood of Mecca and Ömer Efendî’s sickness. On Zilhicce 14/December 27, torrential rains flood the city of Mecca and cause extensive damage at the Harâm; several people die. For Abdurreşîd, this event illustrates the negligence of authorities as well as the indifference of people toward the Holy Places 51 and the conditions of the pilgrimage. The second incident, minor but meaningful in the author’s eyes, is that Ömer Efendî comes back sick from Mina: although he was summoned by the governor to come at Ömer’s bedside, in Shaykh Murâd’s home, the doctor behaves in an unacceptable manner, insulting the patient and treating him harshly. He who claims to represent science and modernity (probably 52 a sympathizer of the Young Turks) emerges as the most uncivil of men. The end of the pilgrimage carries with it a taste of bitterness.

At Medina Like many other hajjis, the Tatar and the Japanese make a last pious visit (ziyârat) to Medina. Taking the Tayyâre caravan (one of the three available caravans), they 53 leave Mecca on Zilhicce 20, 1327/January 2, 1910 and arrive at Medina on Muharr51 52 53

Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 218-220 (522-524). For a comparable narrative of a flood in Mecca, see John F. Keane, Six Months in Meccah: An Account of the Mohammedan Pilgrimage to Meccah (London: Tinsley Brothers, 1881), pp. 176-185. Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 220-221 (525-526). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 221-222 (526-527).

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em 9, 1328/January 21, 1910. All during their stay, besides their religious activities, 55 they meet several people: an old friend and compatriot from Siberia named Hanefî Efendî; Shaykh Yusûf Nebhânî, an ulama of Syria; Ahmad Khalîl Hanbelî and Abdulqâdir Trâblusî, two Tunisian ulamas, and other scholars he does not name. At these meetings, Abdurreşîd introduces Ömer Efendî Yamaoka. However, the high56 light of the stay is, once more, an assembly: organised an evening by the muhâfız Alî Rızâ Pâşâ at the Bâb al-‘Anbariyya (western gate of Medina), the meeting gathers a large number of people among whom one finds all the noble sayyids and great ulamas. After the welcoming speech, the first two speakers deal with the obligation of education (maarif) for Muslims; then a young Tatar speaks in turn, in Arabic, on the need for education. A Shi‘i ulama from Baku, Mîrzâ Abdurrahîm Efendî, makes a discourse about the necessity of unity, cohesion and solidarity between Muslims. His speech receives the acclamation of the audience. After him, the director of a highschool at Medina ascends the pulpit and starts to evoke the problems between Armenians and Muslims in Adana… quickly the director of the Union and Progress club, Tâhir Bey, interrupts him and forces him to descend from the chair (he will be arrested the following day). This time, the malaise vanishes. Later, Ömer Efendî Yamaoka, speaking in Russian and translated in Arabic by Abdurreşîd, gives a long talk on his own pilgrimage; he evokes the Ajia Gikay Cemiyeti (Society of the Asi57 an Cause) in Tokyo, a pro-Islam organisation, and defends the union of the Orient (ittihâd-i şark). Lastly, he recites three times the kalima al-tawhîd and steps down from the pulpit. The audience, delighted, is won over; and the Tatar activist is finally confident in the future of Islam. Afterwards, eminent sayyids of Medina (such as ‘Alawî Bâ Faqîh and Ahmad 58 Barzanjî) give banquets in honour of Ömer Efendî. After a week of hospitality 59 and encounters, it is time to leave. Before taking the train to Syria, Yamaoka sheds some tears – says the text – but he is proud to be the first Japanese to have accomplished the pious visit to the Prophet’s shrine. As for Abdurreşîd, he has accomplished his mission. Following Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, we have not followed him everywhere; we have omitted here his descriptions of rituals and mahmal processions, his opinions 54 55 56 57

58 59

Âlem-i İslâm, p. 226 (532). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 227-229 (534-537). Âlem-i İslâm, pp. 235-236 (545-546). On the relations between Abdurreşîd and the Society, see Hisao Komatsu, “A Pan-Islamic mediator, Abdurreshid Ibrahim”, in Stéphane A. Dudoignon, Komatsu Hisao and Kosugi Yasushi, eds., Intellectuals in the Modern World. Transmission, transformation, communication (London-New York: Routledge, 2006), pp. 278-280. Âlem-i İslâm, p. 236 (547). Abdurreşîd provides some data about this train line in “Hacı bâbâlâr gelmekete 1”, Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/13 (4 Eylül 1328/September 4, 1910), pp. 203-205.

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on Bedouin customs, his digressions on the sanctity of Mecca and the virtues of zamzam water, and the like. Instead, we have focused on the everyday experience of a Tatar pilgrim traveling thoughout the Muslim world. This experience was that of an intellectual and activist. Like other Reformist or Modernist Muslim authors, Abdurreşîd was torn between the ideal of unity of the Islamic community and the realities of its divisions; the hajj revealed to him the strength but also the weakness of the dâr al-islâm. And like several other Reformists and Modernists, in order to overcome the obstacles erected both by so-called Islamic archaisms and predatory European domination, he turned his eyes towards the Far East, Japan in particular. He was not alone in looking east: such was the practice also of the above-men60 61 tioned ‘Alî Ahmad al-Jirjâwî, the Egyptian prince Muhammad ‘Alî, and the 62 Turkish traveler Süleymân Şükrü Bey (1865-?). For all these observers, the Far East represented a sort of Promised Land, whether as an example of successful nonWestern modernity or as a field for mass conversion to Islam. However, while most of these Middle Eastern visitors remained spectators of the Japanese (or Chinese, for Şükrü) horizon, Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm, citizen of Siberia, Muslim of Russia, and Tatar Jadid, not only undertook various preaching activities in Japan but “brought Japan to Islam”. On the way to Mecca, after having converted Yamaoka Kōtarō, he led him to the heart of the Muslim world. Beyond this intimate religious relationship, the Tatar master introduced his Japanese disciple to the real world of Islam, bringing closer, through him, the Crescent and the Rising Sun.

60

61 62

See A. Roussillon, Identité et modernité. Les voyageurs égyptiens au Japon, pp. 41-48, 67-73; Thomas Eich, “Pan-Islam and ‘Yellow Peril’: Geo-strategic Concepts in salafī Writings prior to World War I”, in Renée Worringer, ed., The Islamic Middle East and Japan: perceptions, aspirations, and the birth of Intra-Asian modernity (Princeton: Markus Wiener, 2007), pp. 121-135. In her article “Japan’s Global Claim to Asia and the World of Islam: Transnational Nationalism and World Power, 1900–1945”, The American Historical Review 109:4 (2004), p. 1152, Selçuk Esenbel notes that “Ibrahim’s publications reveal Tokyo in 1908 to have been a haven for Muslim activists seeking collaboration with Japan against Western powers. Besides Ibrahim, there was the Egyptian nationalist army officer Ahmad Fadzli Beg (1874-?), who was exiled in Tokyo after leaving Egypt because of his anti-British activities. Among the Indian émigrés, Moulvi Barakatullah (1856–1927), the well-known Pan-Islamist anti-imperialist, was teaching Urdu at Tokyo University.” See A. Roussillon, Identité et modernité. Les voyageurs égyptiens au Japon, pp. 48-55, 74-81; Japanophilia was also attested in the Muslim Indies: see M.F. Laffan, Islamic Nationhood and Colonial Indonesia, pp. 136, 160-164. See Lucien Bouvat, “Impressions d’un voyageur turc,” Revue du Monde Musulman IV:4 (1908), pp. 794-796. Şükrü’s travelogue, the Seyâhât ül-kübrâ, has been published by Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm in Saint Petersburg in 1907.

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Epilogue: the Hidden Face of the Stars In contrast with the lyricism of our Central Asian author, Yamaoka’s views appear to have been more sober, if not cynical. In 1911, the Japanese activist published a travelogue of his own, in which the hajj and even Islam receive strikingly ambival63 ent treatment. Given the political context of Japan during the 1900s, one wonders what the real intentions of such activists in Tokyo were. In other words, the pan-Islamic ideal so dear to Abdurreşîd may have been looked upon by Yamaoka as merely the means to a more important end. As Tsutomu Sakamoto rightly pointed out, Japan’s military intelligence had direct interests in such a journey: “The Japanese side saw a Japanese mission to Mecca as better chance to increase information on the Middle East, and furthermore to extend the line of military intelligence net64 works to the Russian Empire from the Arabian Peninsula”. Reading Yamaoka’s narrative, one may doubt his religious sincerity. Before his departure for Mecca, in Bombay he stays at an inn for Muslims so that he can learn the customs and habits of Muslims; he even recommends to his readers willing to visit Arabia to follow his example, namely to stay in such places in order to observe and imitate the Muslims. 65 Writing in a style redolent of spy novels, he adds that he had to behave properly, to look like a Muslim as possible: salute like them, pray like them, eat like them, etc. In fact, he is suspected by both the Indian hajjis and the British authorities of 66 being a “fake” Muslim trying to enter incognito into the Haramayn. Despite his recent – and fairly quick, he underlines – conversion to Islam, making him Muslim 67 “instantaneously”, rumors are spreading about his religious identity. One time, during which his companion Abdurreşîd left Bombay for three days, he is discreetly arrested by the British police who interrogates him on his presence in Bombay and advises him to interrupt his travel. To avoid the prohibition to embark, Yamaoka is then obliged to ask the Japanese consul to intercede with the British 68 authorities. Once arrived in Arabia, it is pilgrims’ turn to suspect him. To convince them, we read, the Japanese convert is forced to declare loudly that he is Muslim, to declaim repeatedly the shahâda in front of different people, to perform innumerable 63

65 66

Yamaoka Kōtarō, Arabia Jūdanki [A journey across Arabia] (Tokyo: Tōadō Shobō, 1911). I thank Professors Yasushi Tonaga and Nobuo Misawa who kindly informed me that a copy was accessible on line at the Japan Diet Library (http://kindai.ndl.go.jp/ index.html). I would also like to thank warmly Ryoko Sekiguchi who translated for me the relevant pages of this book. For a map of Yamaoka’s itinerary, see ill. 6. Tsutomu Sakamoto, “The First Japanese Hadji Yamaoka Kōtarō and Abdürreşid İbrahim”, p. 115. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 43. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 45.

68

Arabia Jūdanki, p. 50.

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67 Arabia Jūdanki, p. 46.

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prayers, and to make salutations to people he does not know. Although he is able to enter Mecca, he again arouses questions and suspicions among the crowd since he 69 can not read the Quran, does not know Arabic and repeats prayers like a parrot. Stopped by custodians at the entrance of the Masjid al-Harâm, he finally enters the mosque with the help of Muhammed Murâd who convinces them of Yamaoka’s 70 credentials as a Muslim. After this incident, the Naqshbandî shaykh decides to educate him more carefully in Islamic practices: successfully, according to our author. Thanks to Shaykh Murâd again, who, interestingly, enjoyed close relation71 ships with the Meccan Sharifian family, he meets the cousin of the Sharif himself who invites him to the emir’s palace and provides him with a letter of introduc72 73 tion. At the palace – described at length in the travelogue – the encounter between Abdurreşîd, Yamaoka and the emir comes off very smoothly: despite the problems of communication (the Tatar must translate the Sharif’s questions from Arabic to Russian and Yamaoka’s answers from Russian to Arabic), the discussion is particularly lively as the emir asks many questions on Japan and its victory over Russia. Deeply moved and fascinated by the descriptions of Japan given by his guests, the emir confides it is the first time he meets a Japanese man and is honoured to learn about such a victorious country. In return, Yamaoka affirms that, when he is back in Japan, he will tell his compatriots about his sojourn among the 74 Arabs and promote the idea of friendship between the two peoples. While the two hajjis think about leaving the Hijaz, they are once again invited to the palace for a banquet organised in honour of Yamaoka. On this special occasion, the Japanese visitor borrows the ceremonial clothes of the Naqshbandî shaykh 75 Muhammed Murâd. During the banquet, an intimacy is established between the host and his guest: as the Sharif shows repeated marks of respect to the Japanese 76 people, Yamaoka returns the favours. They discuss in detail the current situation of Japan, the emir asking about politics, army, education, industry, trade, agriculture, customs, etc. Abdurreşîd gives additional information and shares his impressions 77 of Japan. After dinner, the conversation continues in the living room, the emir questions Yamaoka on his pilgrimage, even if the straightforward answers of the Japanese 78 rather offend the attendance, except the Sharif who likes his attitude. This episode 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78

Arabia Jūdanki, p. 98. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 99. Although Yamaoka does not give the Sharif’s name, it should be the famous Husayn ibn ‘Alî (1854-1931). Arabia Jūdanki, p. 160. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 161 passim. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 164. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 168. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 170. Arabia Jūdanki, pp. 170-171. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 172.

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shows that Kōtarō is actually less cynical than one might have suspected. His apparent meeting with the great figure of Sayyid Husayn ibn ‘Alî Himmat reveals not only the attempt to build up ties with Arab leaders but also a real attachment to the umma as well as a common cause, through personal relations. The Japanese agent is clearly not indifferent to the struggle of the Muslim elites, whether activists like Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm or leaders like the Sharif of Mecca. He is simply more radical in his critics of the condition of Islam at the beginning of the twentieth century. About the “political” meetings held at Mecca which have left bitter memories in the mind of Abdurreşîd, Yamaoka has harsher words: he was told that there would be large gatherings, public debates and the like, but once on the spot he just attends small assemblies where people blabber on about nothing and remake the world. He goes so far as to say that Muslims spend their time learning and quoting 79 the Quran at the expense of actually grappling with real problems. This goes against modern culture and the course of history. However – concludes Yamaoka – recently Muslims understood that they should evolve, and therefore, for instance, they dispatch young men to foreign countries to benefit from modern knowledge and technology. This reawakening of the Muslim world frightens, precisely, West80 ern dominant empires like Russia. While such remarks by Yamaoka may convey a condescending – if not indeed ironically imperialist – attitude toward Muslim societies, the display also a sincere solidarity with them. A reading of the Japanese traveler’s narrative suggests that his religious feelings were more ambiguous than one would expect. It is possible that Yamaoka Kōtarō converted to Islam in full sincerity, and wholly embraced the pan-Islamic cause: yet that in order to not shock his readers he maintained a low profile and sought to distance himself from his supposed co-religionists. Reciprocally, Abdurreşîd was less naïve than he pretended to be. If his Japanese companion was not an authentic Muslim but a clever actor, the Tatar qâdî would have been the first person to unmask him. But there again, he would do better to say nothing to his readers.

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Arabia Jūdanki, p. 173. Arabia Jūdanki, p. 174.

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Japan: perceptions, aspirations, and the birth of Intra-Asian modernity. Princeton: Markus Wiener, 2007, pp. 121-135. Esenbel, Selçuk. “İslam Dünyasında Japonya İmgesi: Abdürreşid İbrahim ve Geç Meiji Dönemi Japonları.” Toplumsal Tarih, 1995, pp. 18-26. Esenbel, Selçuk. “Japanese Interest in the Ottoman Empire.” In Bert Edström, ed., The Japanese and Europe. Images and Perception. Richmond Surrey: Japan Library, 2000, pp. 95-124. Esenbel, Selçuk. “Japan’s Global Claim to Asia and the World of Islam: Transnational Nationalism and World Power, 1900–1945”, The American Historical Review 109:4 (2004): pp. 1140-1170. Georgeon, François. “Un voyageur tatar en Extrême-Orient au début du XXe siècle.” Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique 32:1 (1991): pp. 47-59 İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. ‘Âlem-i İslâm ve Jâpûnyâda İntişâr-i İslâmiyat. 2 vol. Istanbul: Ahmad Sâkî Bek Matbaası, 1328-29/1910-13. İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. “Haccâc-ı müslimîn ve umûr-u sıhhiyye.” Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/9 (28 Temmuz 1328/July 28, 1910): pp. 142-143. İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. “Hacı bâbâlâr gelmekete 1.” Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/13 (4 Eylül 1328/September 4, 1910): pp. 203-205. İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. “Qolera neden tevsî ediyor?”Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/23 (22 Kasım 1328/November 22, 1910): pp. 364-365. İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. “Qolera var mî?” Teârüf-i Müslimîn I/25 (2 Aralık 1328/December 2, 1910): pp. 2-3. İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. Tarjama-yi Hâlım yâka Bâshıma Kelenler. Saint Petersburg: Ibrâhîmofning Elîktrîq Bâsma Khânesî, n.d. İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. Âlem-i İslâm ve Japonya’da İslamiyet’in Yayılması. 2 vol. Istanbul: İşaret Yayınları, 2003. İbrâhîm, Abdurreşîd. Un Tatar au Japon. Voyage en Asie 1908-1910, translation, introduction and notes François Georgeon and Işık Tamdoğan-Abel. Paris: Actes Sud, 2004. Kazem-Zadeh, Hossein. Relation d’un pèlerinage à la Mecque en 1910-1911. Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1912. Keane, John F. Six Months in Meccah: An Account of the Mohammedan Pilgrimage to Meccah. London: Tinsley Brothers, 1881. Komatsu, Hisao. “A Pan-Islamic mediator, Abdurreshid Ibrahim.” In Stéphane A. Dudoignon, Komatsu Hisao and Kosugi Yasushi, eds., Intellectuals in the Modern World. Transmission, transformation, communication. London-New York: Routledge, 2006, pp. 273-288. Kōtarō, Yamaoka. Arabia Jūdanki. Tokyo: Tōadō Shobō, 1911. Laffan, Michael F. Islamic Nationhood and Colonial Indonesia. The umma below the winds. London-New York: Routledge, 2003. Özbek, Nadir. “Abdürreşid İbrahim (1857-1944), The Life and Thought of a Muslim Activist.” Master Diss., Boğazıcı Üniversitesi, 1994. Pearson, Michael N. Pilgrimage to Mecca. The Indian Experience 1500-1800. Princeton: Markus Wiener Publishers, 1996. Roussillon, Alain. Identité et modernité. Les voyageurs égyptiens au Japon (XIXe-XXe siècle). Paris: Actes Sud, 2005. Sakamoto, Tsutomu. “The First Japanese Hadji Yamaoka Kōtarō and Abdürreşid İbrahim.” In Selçuk Esenbel and Inaba Chiharu, eds., The Rising Sun and the Turkish Crescent. New Perspectives on the History of Japanese Turlish Relations. Istanbul: Boğaziçi University Press, 2003, pp. 105-121.

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Ill. 1: Portrait of Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm

Ill. 2: Portrait of Yamaoka Kōtarō

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Ill. 3: A Chinese Hajji

Ill. 4: Aden in 1910

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Ill. 5: Ka‘ba in 1910

Ill. 6: The hajj route of Yamaoka

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The Hajjnâmas of the Manuscript Collection of the Oriental Institute of Uzbekistan (mid-19th to early 20th centuries)

Shovosil Ziyodov To this day, a large number of library collections in Central Asia remain under-explored. Among these is the library of the Al-Biruni Oriental Institute of the Academy of Sciences of Uzbekistan in Tashkent. Despite several recent surveys and 1 the publication of new catalogues, the Al-Biruni library – generally acknowledged as the most important collection in the region – still preserves a rich trove of materials which have not received the attention which they deserve. In the present paper, I propose to consider a particular sub-group of such materials. Dating from the midnineteenth to the early twentieth century, hajjnâmas, or accounts of pilgrimage to Mecca, offer a remarkable perspective on intellectual outlooks in Central Asia on the verge of modernity. Long considered a time of decline, when economic, social and political crises in the three polities of Bukhara, Khiva and Kokand facilitated the Russian conquest of Central Asia, the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries remain poorly stud2 ied. A widely-prevailing view holds that during this period Islamic culture was in decline, and that learned writings on Islam ceased to be produced. In fact, this is not quite true. While the composition of works devoted to mathematics and the natural sciences did indeed cease, the Russian colonial period saw the continued production of numerous commentaries, super-commentaries and instructional aids for the use of madrasas. As Anke von Kügelgen observes, however, such materials were until recently inaccessible to western scholars, and only lately have they even 3 begun to be published. Like other such neglected texts, hajjnâmas give a rich impression of how Central Asian Muslims situated themselves in the world during and after the Russian conquest, and of how they continued to guide their lives by reference to Islamic norms. In this paper, I shall explore these themes as I describe 1

2 3

These include A. Urunbaev, T. Horikawa et alii, ed., Katalog Khivinskikh Kaziiskikh dokumentov XIX-nachala XX vv. (Tashkent-Kyoto: Kyoto University of Foreign Studies, 2001); J. Paul et alii, ed. Katalog sufischer Handschriften aus der Bibliothek des Instituts fuer Orientalistik der Akademie der Wissenschaften, Republik Usbekistan, Verzeichnis der orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland. Supplement Band 37 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2002). As a rare exception, see L.M. Epifanova, Rukopisnye istochniki po istorii Srednei Azii perioda prisoedineniia ee k Rossii (Bukhara) (Tashkent: Nauka, 1965). Anke von Kügelgen, Legitimatsia sredneaziatskoi dinastii mangytov v proizvedeniiakh ikh istorikov (XVIII-XX vv.) (Almaty: Daik Press, 2004), p. 9.

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certain major pilgrimage narratives, and make a preliminary attempt at periodising the works under discussion. One major stumbling-block during my research has been that these hajjnâma works have hitherto been poorly catalogued. Of the more than 30,000 manuscripts in the Biruni collection, only 7,574 are described in the eleven-volume Sobranie Vostochnykh Rukopisei Akademii Nauk Uzbekskoi SSR [Collection of the Oriental 4 Manuscripts of the Academy of Sciences of the Uzbek SSR], usually abridged as SVR; the rest of the collection is not described, and is only referenced in cards contained in fihrist boxes. Only a few hajjnâma manuscripts are mentioned in SVR, such as, for instance, the Dar bayân-i râh-i hajj (SVR VII, pp. 54-55, no. 9379/3); those which are so mentioned, furthermore, are classed as examples not of a single hajjnâma genre, but under a range of completely different categories. But the works which I discuss below share widespread generic commonalities. Whether composed in Chaghatay Turkic or in Persian, they were commonly written by figures of high religious authority (imam, mudarris, naqîb, qâzî, etc.) who had both the inclination and the means to accomplish their spiritual duties. In their subsequent accounts, pilgrims commonly tie their experiences of the hajj to the wider trends, opinions and ideas of that period, as they depict the social and cultural circumstances of countries they cross and compare these with those of their homeland. At a more concrete level, authors describe Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem, and distances between cities and holy places; they also detail the rules of the hajj itself.

Before the Conquest: the Muntakhab al-Tawârîkh and the Fadâ’il Haramayn The historian Hâjî Muhammad Hakîm Khân Tûra ibn Sayyid Ma‘sûm Khân, born in 1802 in Kokand, is a well-known author in Central Asia. Grandson of Narbuta Bey, khan of Kokand, and descendant of the great Naqshbandî shaykh Ahmad Kâsânî Dahbîdî (1463-1542), he was the hakîm first of the city of Tûrakurgân, then of Namangan and Kâsân. Hakîm Khân Tûra is famous for having authored the Muntakhab al-tawârîkh, completed in 1843, a chronicle written in the style of medieval historiography. The book details the history of Central Asia, Bukhara and Kokand Khanates in particular, until the 1840s; it also gives extensive biographical data about the author himself. The Oriental Institute of Tashkent possesses five ma5 nuscript copies of the Muntakhab; four of these are in Persian, and one is in Turki. 4 5

Sobranie vostochnykh rykopisei Akademi Nauk Uzbekskoi SSR – t. I-XI (Tashkent: Fan, 1952-1987). The manuscript references are: Persian MS IVANUz no. 592, 593, 595, 596/I and Turki MS IVANUz no. 1560. Two critical editions of the Muntakhab are available: Mukhammed Khakimkhan, Muntakhab al-tavarikh, ba chop hozirkunanda, muallifi muqadimma va ta’liqot A. Mukhtarov, jildi 1-2 (Dushanbe: Donish, 1983-1985); Muḥammad Ḥakīm khān, Muntakhab al-tawārīkh, vol II, Studia Culturae Islamicae no. 81, ed. by Y. Kawa-

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What interests us in this source is the pilgrimage narrative it contains, in the section devoted to the history of the Kokand Khanate. We learn that, following a conflict between Hakîm Khân Tûra and his relative Muhammad ‘Alî Khân, who ruled over Kokand between 1822 and 1842, Hakîm Khân Tûra was sent into exile. Following the example of many other such exiles before him, he took this opportunity to set off on a pilgrimage to Mecca. His travels lasted for seven years, between 1824 and 1830, and took him first across the Kazakh steppe, Russia, the Caucasus, Asia Minor, the Near East, and Egypt, via the so-called north-bound route, and then through Persia and Turkmen territory on his return way back to Kokand. The narrative of Hakîm Khân Tûra’s pilgrimage is comparable to a travel diary, including descriptions of climates and landscapes, of economic conditions, and of the habits and customs of locals along the way. It also provides details about the technicalities of pilgrimage. When he arrived at Mecca’s entrance, he was accompanied by a young man (more precisely, a mutawwif) native to Mecca. After having visited the holy sites around Mecca, he rent a room at five tilla near the Ka‘ba in order to be able to go there every day; the hajj stricto sensu started no less than five months later. Hakîm Khân Tûra describes in detail all the rituals of the pilgrimage. Another interesting, though much less-known, book of this pre-conquest peri6 od is the Fadâ’il Haramayn, the call number for which is 2434/V. This anonymous travelogue, consisting of an introduction (muqaddima), two chapters (bâb) and a conclusion (khâtima), describes the holy cities of Mecca and Medina from the perspective of religious and historical topography. After the introduction which says a few words on the Hijaz, the first chapter describes Mecca and the second chapter depicts Medina. The conclusion gives some information on the holy city of Jerusalem (Quddûs). Interestingly, we find on f. 107b a schematic drawing of the Masjid al-Harâm with mentions of the corners (rukn) and the different gates (bâb) (see ill. 1). Equally interesting is the colophon which informs us that the work had been copied in 1228/1813 for the khan of Bukhara Amîr Haydar (r. 1800-1826); at the end of the text, on f. 157b, it is further noted that the work is dedicated to a certain Mawlawî Jalâlî surnamed ‘Abd Allâh. As with other informative books produced at this time which similarly focus on the sacred geography of Arabia, the Fadâ’il Haramayn’s purpose is to describe in quite scientific terms the holy land of Islam. The Biruni Institute collection possesses a variety of further such anonymous manuscripts of this kind. One such text, for instance, is a Persian-language account of the journey to Mecca which the Tûqây-Tîmûrid/Ashtarkhanid ‘Abd al-‘Azîz

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hara and K. Haneda (Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, 2006). Sobranie vostochnykh rykopisei Akademi Nauk Uzbekskoi SSR, t. VI (Tashkent: Fan, 1963), pp. 77-78, no. 4228 (hereafter SVR). The hajjnâma is placed between f. 75b and f. 157b; it is written in nasta‘lîq script, on oriental paper (12 x 19 cm). The language is Arabic.

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Khan (r. 1645-1680) undertook after having renounced the Bukharan throne in fa7 vour of his brother Subhân Qûlî (r. 1680-1702). The work is entitled “On the journey of his majesty ‘Abd al-‘Azîz to the Temple of Allah [Mecca]” (dhikr-i ‘âzim shudan…Hazrat-i ‘Abd al-‘Azîz Khân bijânab-i bayt Allâh); judging from the author’s statements, it was composed by a member of ‘Abd al-‘Azîz’s suite. On f. 124b, it is noted that the khan departed from Bukhara on Shawwâl 14, 1092/October 27, 1681. The work proceeds then to relate the itinerary which the khan followed on his route to the Hijaz, together with the dates of his various sojourns along the way. The work appears to be incomplete, since the text breaks off on ff. 135a-b with an account of the settlements around the city of Isfahan. After a small lacuna, a postscript notes that “the date of death of his highness hajji is 1094/1682-3”.

After the Conquest: the Example of Rahmat Allâh Wâzih’s Travelogue The Russian conquest of the Central Asian Khanates, together with the construction of the Krasnovodsk-Ashkhabad railway line in 1880-1885, significantly changed the pilgrimage route for Turkestani hajjis. Instead of horses and camels, pilgrims could now travel by train and steamboat. The most common route to the Hijaz henceforth passed through Russia, Turkey and Egypt. Following this route, pilgrims encountered degrees of technological and social development which previously few Central Asians other than ambassadors and long-distant traders had ever observed. Comparing what they saw on their travels with what they had left back at home, travellers and intellectuals began to acquire the conviction that Turkestan was in a backward state, and needed to make up for lost time; they started also to think of how they might introduce progress into their own country. Such is a frequent theme of hajjnâmas written at that time. Rather than offering conventionalised descriptions of exotic cities and foreign cultures, most late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century hajjnâma authors offer highly personalised accounts of the countries, populations, habits and customs which they encountered. Their aim was to show how far behind the wider world their own fatherland presently stood. The Bukhari writer Qârî Rahmat Allâh Wâzih (1818-1894) was one of the first authors who tried his hand at such critical essays. Widely recognised among literary circles, he authored books on religion, biographies, and even cookery. On May 10, 1886, he left Bukhara to accomplish the hajj, following the outward route to Mecca via Charjuy, Merv, Ashkhabad, Astrabad, Baku, Batumi, Istanbul, Alexandria and Medina, and subsequently returning to Bukhara via Najaf, Karbala, Kufa, Baghdad, Kermanshah, Qom, Tehran, Nishapur, Mashhad, Sarakhs, Merv and 7

SVR no. 7003, IVANUz no. 4468/3. The work contains just 12 folios (ff. 124a-135b). It is written in clear nasta‘lîq script, on Kokand paper (15 x 24.5 cm). The copyist’s name is not given, though the copy is dated Jumâdâ al-awwâl 25, 1245/November 23, 1829.

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Charjuy. Upon his return from hajj in 1887, Wâzih gave his travel impressions in a book untitled Gharâ’ib al-Khabar fî ‘Ajâ’ib al-Safar (Wonders of the account on 8 the wonders of travel). He wrote another book called Sawânih al-Mamâlik wa 9 Farâsikh al-Masâlik (Events of the lands and distances of the roads), which he dedicated to the emir of Bukhara ‘Abd al-Ahad (r. 1885-1910). In a manner similar to his master and preceptor Ahmad Dânish, who in the 10 1880s wrote the Nawâdir al-Waqâ’i‘ in order to alert readers to recent Russian technological innovations (for example, in architectural achievements and armament), Wâzih uses his hajjnâma to illustrate the cultural and technical progress of the most advanced countries. He thus mentions, for example, those recent changes which had occurred in Merv after its passing to Russian control in 1885. Wâzih was particularly struck by the rapidity of these changes: “Within eleven months”, he writes, “Merv changed so much, they built a wooden bridge with thirteen pylons in the river. Near the river, they built several railroads on which there are fire carts 11 (âtash araba), called iron and wagon (vagûn). These go so far as Dushak, Ashkhabad, and Charjuy.” Apart from these innovations, Wâzih points out certain negative aspects of the Russian presence. He notes for instance the difficulty for Muslims to respect sharî‘a prescriptions, given the disturbing failure of ‘Christian’ women to cover their head or face, and the increased opportunities for drinking and gambling. Moreover, in order to be accessible to a wide audience, the book is written in a simple, didactic style, using brief thumbnail sketches of dozens of towns and cities, so that the reader is able to imagine the urban landscapes under description, and to understand their evolution. Like many other authors, Wâzih depicts cities like Baghdad, Kufa, Samara, and several Arab towns, as miserable places; by contrast, he describes cities controlled by Russia, such as Baku, Batumi and Tbilisi, or other metropoles such as Istanbul or Alexandria, as well-organised and highly-developed.

A Focus on Sâlih Tâshkandî’s Hajjnâma-yi Turkî The Hajjnâma-yi Turkî is a Turki-language work in mixed prose and verse by a 12 certain Muhammad Sâlih Tâshkandî. We do not know the exact date of the com13 position, but it is clear that it was written at the turn the twentieth century. In the 8 9 10 11 12

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MS. Turki IVANUz no. 2106. MS. Turki IVANUz no. 110. See SVR no. 900-901. Ahmad Dânish, Porchaho az Navodir al-vakoye’ (Stalinabad: Nashriyoti Davlatii Tojikiston, 1957), pp. 71-89. Dushak is located in Turkmenistan, between Merv and Ashkhabad. This figure is not well-known. According to U. Sultanov, XIX asr Toshkent masjidlari (forthcoming), his full name was either Imâm-i Mullâ Muhammad Sâlih b. Mullâ ‘Alî Muhammad Ughlî, or Imâm-i Dâmullâ Muhammad Sâlih b. Âkhûnd Mullâ Sawrânbây. The name of Muhammad Âkhûnd appears on the covers of lithograph editions of the Hajjnâma-yi Turkî (lithograph no. 4241 and 4242, see ill. 2 and 3). A manuscript is preserved in the collections of the Oriental Institute: Muhammad

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years 1907 – 1915, several annotated lithograph editions of the work were issued by 14 the publishing house of G. Arifjanov in Tashkent. Much of the work is devoted to outlining the rules and procedures of hajj. In the work, Muhammad Sâlih Tâshkandî describes how he travelled to Mecca via Samarkand, Bukhara, Charjuy, Merv, Kah (?), Ashkhabad, Krasnovodsk, Baku, Rostov, Crimea (Ak-Masjid), Sebastopol, Istanbul, Alexandria, Suez and Jeddah. Like other authors, he notes various technological innovations which he saw along the way, and relates scraps of information which he had collected during his travels. He provides particularly rich descriptions of most of the cities through which he passed: the only exceptions here are the Central Asian cities and Baku, which he probably considered to be of little interest to his readers. About Sebastopol, Muhammad Tâshkandî notes that the streets were cobbled like a carpet, and that its buildings were massive and its monuments were imposing. When passing through Istanbul, he visited the large mosques, such as Hagia Sophia and Sultan Ahmed, where he was struck by the chandeliers and the huge prayer carpets which were in place of the small individual rugs with which he was familiar. He was also astonished by the market stalls, the numerous vendors and the abundance of merchandise. Yet his favourite place was Alexandria, whose clean and well-organised streets he compares to marble thoroughfares. He also mentions the holy places located around the city. Like many other hajjnâmas, Muhammad Tâshkandî’s work partly serves to inform his compatriots about the practicalities of hajj. He provides information about travel expenses, the duration of journeys, and distances, as well as about relations between different peoples, the risks of brigandage, excise provisions, and naturally the holy places. He explains that most of the expenses for the hajj arise from travel costs: these included train tickets, steamboat (vapûr) tickets and cart hire, as well as customs duties and consular fees. At the end of his account, he claims that even if one were travelling frugally the total expense would exceed 400 rubles; to travel comfortably, he suggests, would cost 500 rubles. The journey, he relates, could last for five or six months. Regarding relations with other peoples, he narrates that, in Russia, policemen (falîslâr) locked up pilgrims in the room of a train station where

14

Akhûnd Tâshkandî Hajjnâma-yi Turkî, MS Turki IVANUz no. 12057. The work (21x16.5 cm) is written in nasta‘lîq and contains about 147 folios, 11 lines per page. The author’s name appears in fol. 18a, though he calls himself Hâjî Mîrîm Khân. It seems that Hâjî Mîrîm Khân made a copy for himself of the lithograph of Muhammad Âkhûnd Tâshkandî’s Hajjnâma-yi Turkî and inserted his name in the text. Hajjnâma-yi Turkî, Lithograph IVANUz no. 4241, ed. by Ûtîb Bay Rasûl ibn Muhammad (Tashkent : Tipo-litografiia V.M. Il’ina, 1907, 72 p.); no. 4242 and 18682, ed. by Qârî Shâkir ibn Dâmullâh Zâkir (Tashkent: Tipografiia Hasana Arifjanova, n.d., 59 p.); no. 4243, ed. by Mîrzâ Ahmad ibn Mîrzâ Karîm (Tashkent: tipografiia Hasana Arifjanova. 1915, 59 p.).

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infidels (kuffârlâr) mocked their turbans, their prayer, and their ignorance of the local language. In the markets of Istanbul, Tâshkandî meets Armenians, Christians (tars), Zoroastrians (gebr), and Iranians; he describes the cunning with which these people seek to sell their goods at higher rates to hajjis. Discussing the holy sites of Egypt, Muhammad Tâshkandî talks of the numerous beggars and advises the reader to be wary of them since, like wolves, they do not content themselves with one or two coins and are liable to chase after pilgrims. He notes that a group of hajjis from Kashgar were particularly unfortunate in this regard, having been attacked by brigands on two occasions. The first time, they had been travelling from Jeddah to Mecca in a caravan of 800 people when they were ambushed by 200 bandits who plundered all their belongings, leaving the pilgrims in a state of empty-handed shock; on the second occasion, the gullible Kashgaris were duped by miscreants who persuaded them that they could buy sheep near the market of Mina, and thereupon led them to a band of Bedouins who stripped them of their possessions. In his work, Tâshkandî offers a range of further interesting details. Having described how initially he left Tashkent as one of a group of just ten pilgrims, he recounts that by the end of the journey their party had swelled to about a thousand: all along the way, they had been joined by Kirghiz, Kashgaris and other Central Asian “nationalities”, all presumably having discerned in one another some quality of Central Asian commonality. Another noteworthy aspect of the book is, once again, the description of technical innovations. One of the first hajjis who took the 15 train wrote this: We saw amazing places, we were astonished We took a horse who was running well Our horse had seats and fire cart This amazing horse did not use any grass He ran day and night and never rested His two eyes were like fire sparks He was moaning and groaning When he started up, he made clouds Instead of grass, he was chewing fire When we stopped, we did not call him Wherever we stayed, we were satisfied Brothers, if you knew this place Look at that, Praise be to God!

Muhammad Tâshkandî describes in a similar fashion his wonder at the workings of the steamboat which took him and his fellow pilgrims from Sebastopol to Istanbul. In this instance, however, his wonder at the workings of modernity was somewhat 15

Âkhûnd Tâshkandî, Hajjnâma-yi Turkî (no. 4241), pp 2-3.

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tempered by nervousness. When the passengers heard the engine of the boat start up, he says, they all thought that the craft was sinking: and they piteously cried out for help.

Conclusion From this brief survey, we can make two ‘curatorial’ observations: first, that hajjnâmas constitute only a very small proportion of the works preserved at the Oriental Institute, and, secondly, that very few such works can be dated any earlier than the nineteenth century. The hajjnâma evidently constitutes a comparatively modern mode of writing in Central Asia. This perhaps reflects the fact that the turn of the twentieth century saw a considerable increase in the number of people performing the pilgrimage to Mecca: Central Asian hajjis needed more and more hajj guidebooks to know the travel conditions as well as the rules of the pilgrimages. Moreover, authors of such narratives were eager to share their travel impressions, and to make known the way of life in other countries and the cultures of other peoples. However, it remains unclear whether these books enjoyed real popularity or whether their appeal was limited to the elite: although some of them were published as lithographs, we get little sense that they enjoyed a particularly wide cultural diffusion. This question raises another another in turn: what actual influence did such writings have on contemporaries? The hajjnâma genre allowed former pilgrims a vehicle with which to express the dissatisfaction they felt upon returning to a homeland distinctly more backward than the territories which they had traversed. But one is left to wonder what impact such expressions of dissatisfaction had on social thought in Central Asia. Did the pilgrims influence the shape and the evolution of the Jadids’ Weltanschaung? A sociology and an aesthetic of reception would shed light on the intellectual status of Central Asian pilgrimage books. Translated from the Russian by Kirill Kuzmin

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Bibliography Dânish, Ahmad. Porchaho az Navodir al-vakoye’. Stalinabad: Nashriyoti Davlatii Tojikiston, 1957. Epifanova, L.M. Rukopisnye istochniki po istorii Srednei Azii perioda prisoedineniia ee k Rossii (Bukhara). Tashkent: Nauka, 1965. Hadizade, Rasul. Istochniki k izucheniiu tadjkskoi literatury vtoroi polovinyi XIX veka. Stalinabad: Izd-vo AN Taj. SSR, 1956. Hakîm Khân Tûra. Muntakhab al-Tawârîkh. MS Persian. Tashkent: IVANUz no. 592, 593, 595, 596/I. Hakîm Khân Tûra. Muntakhab al-Tawârîkh. MS Turki IVANUz no. 1560. Hakîm Khân Tûra. Muntakhab al-tavarikh, ba chop hozirkunanda, muallifi muqadimma va ta’liqot A. Mukhtarov, jildi 1-2. Dushanbe: Donish, 1983-1985. Hakîm Khân Tûra. Muntakhab al-tawārīkh, vol II, Studia Culturae Islamicae no. 81. Ed. by Y. Kawahara and K. Haneda. Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, 2006. Kügelgen, Anke von. Legitimatsia sredneaziatskoi dinastii mangytov v proizvedeniiakh ikh istorikov (XVIII-XX vv.). Almaty: Daik Press, 2004. O’zbekiston Respublikasi Markaziy Davlat Archivi, 19-f., 1-p., 2883-c. Paul, J. et alii, ed. Katalog sufischer Handschriften aus der Bibliothek des Instituts für Orientalistik der . .Akademie der Wissenschaften. Republik Usbekistan, Verzeichnis der orientalischen Handschriften in Deutschland. Supplement Band 37. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2002. Sobranie vostochnykh rykopisei Akademi Nauk Uzbekskoi SSR – t. I-XI. Tashkent: Fan, 1952-1987. Tâshkandî, Muhammad Sâlih. Hajjnâma-yi Turkî. MS Turki. Tashkent: IVANUz no. 12057. Tâshkandî, Muhammad Sâlih. Hajjnâma-yi Turkî, Lithograph Turki. Tashkent IVANUz no. 4241, 4242, 4243, 18682. Urunbaev, A., Horikawa, T. et alii, ed. Katalog Khivinskikh Kaziiskikh dokumentov XIX-nachala XX vv. Tashkent-Kyoto: Kyoto University of Foreign Studies, 2001. Wâzih, Qârî Rahmat Allâh. Gharâ’ib al-Khabar fî ‘Ajâ’ib al-Safar. MS. Turki. Tashkent: IVANUz no. 2106. Wâzih, Qârî Rahmat Allâh. Sawânih al-Mamâlik wa Farâsikh al-Masâlik. MS. Turki. Tashkent: IVANUz no. 110.

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Ill. 1: Fadâ’il Haramayn, f. 107b, featuring a schematic drawing of the Masjid al-Harâm

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Ill. 2 + 3: Hajjnâma-yi Turkî, lithograph nrs. 4241 + 4242

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The Pilgrimage Books of Central Asia: Routes and Impressions (19th and early 20th centuries)

Sharifa Tosheva The phenomenon known as Jadidism, which emerged in Turkestan during the late nineteenth century and grew into a marked sociopolitical trend in the years immediately thereafter, was influenced by a number of internal and external factors. Among the notable external factors were the influential ideas of Jamâl al-Dîn Afghânî (1839-1897) and Muhammad ‘Abduh (1849-1905), regarding the need for religious reform and the maintenance of native solidarity against European colonialism; the spread of reformist movements in the Caucasus and the Volga basin; contemporaneous political changes in Turkey and Iran; and the massive increase in the circulation of printed newspapers and journals. One further such external factor was the increased ease of trans-Eurasian movement, as Turkestanis took advantage of technological and geopolitical shifts to travel, and particularly to perform the pilgrimage to Mecca. Pilgrimage allowed them to encounter and interact with a range of cultures and value systems which had previously been inaccessible to them: and pilgrims frequently recorded the impressions of what they had seen in the form of written travel accounts (safarnâma) and pilgrimage narratives (hajjnâma). Though an important source for the origins of Jadidism, such works have long been neglected. Tsarist authorities worried about the consequences of Muslims con1 gregating on the hajj, and during both the Tsarist and Soviet periods religious texts – including hajjnâmas – were generally ignored by researchers. In this article, I shall attempt to remedy this state of affairs, by considering late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Central Asian hajj practices, and the texts wherein these are described, in the context of the reformist movement and its ideas. The literary sources which inform us about hajj journeys undertaken by Central Asians vary widely. Works from the earlier part of the period under discussion tend to focus solely on the holy places themselves, and on the codes of behavior expected of the pilgrim. Târîkh-i Makka (The History of Mecca), Dar Bayân-i Miqdâr-i Dhirâ‘-i Makka-yi Mu‘azzama (On the Cubit Dimensions of the vener2 ated Mecca), Dhirâ‘-i Madîna (The Cubits of Madina) are but a few of these early 1 2

S. Shadmanova and T. Shadmanov, “Iz istorii palomnichestva sredneaziatskikh musul’man (konets XIX - nachalo XX v.),” Materialy mezhdunarodnoi islamovedcheskoi nauchnoi konferentsii (Moscow: Izdatel’skii dom Mardzhani, 2009), pp. 106-113. Sobranie vostochnykh rukopisei Akademii nauk Uzbekistana. Istoriia, compiled by D.Yu. Yusupova and R.P. Djalilova (Tashkent: Fan, 1998), no. 775, 778, 790.

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works. By concentrating on matters of historical topography or geography, they functioned largely as practical guides for pilgrims. Later works, by contrast, often display a more ambitious range of interests, as authors set their experiences on the hajj as a mirror with which to reflect upon life in Turkestan itself. Produced as manuscripts and lithographs, a number of these later pilgrimage narratives are held today in the archive of the Al-Biruni Oriental Institute in Tashkent. This article will focus on these latter pilgrims’ attitudes and worldview as well as on their efforts for reform by drawing on their own works.

Pilgrimage Routes and Personalities As is well known, until the late nineteenth century there were basically two routes leading from Turkestan to the Hijaz. The first of these had led through Iran. The other one led from Bukhara through Afghanistan to British-held Peshawar – a journey taking approximately a month on horseback – from where the pilgrim would travel by train to Bombay or Surat and then by ship to Jeddah; according to 3 some scholars, this second route was the more popular. Following the subjugation of the Central Asian Khanates to Russian rule and the construction of the Krasnovodsk – Ashkhabad railway between 1880 and 1885, the choice of routes for Central Asian pilgrims widened decisively, as territories were opened to them and technologies allowed for accelerated travel. One such route which now became possible led from Krasnovodsk by steamer to Baku, whence overland via Tbilisi to Batumi, and then again by ship via Istanbul to Beirut or Jaffa, and finally on to Port Said, Suways (Suez) and Jeddah. If the pilgrims passed through Russia, they went from Odessa or Stavropol to Istanbul and Beirut or Jaffa, and then continued along the 4 same route as shown above. As can be seen from the travel routes described, Central Asian pilgrims now frequently passed through various Russian cities, cities along the Caspian coast which had been absorbed into the Russian Empire, and countries such as Egypt and Palestine which lay under European imperial rule. Following these newly-opened routes, Central Asian pilgrims found themselves encountering technological and political innovations which had previously been unfamiliar to them. Travel allowed such well-known Jadid progressives as Ishâq Khân Ibrat, Hâjî ‘Abd al-Rahmân Samarqandî, Qârî Rahmat Allâh Wâzih, Siddîqî Ajzî (1864-1927), Mahmûd Khwâja Behbûdî (1875-1919), ‘Abd al-Ra’ûf Fitrat (1886-1938) and Hamza Hâkimzâda Niyâzî (1889-1929), as well as less-known writers such as Sayyid Ahmad Khwâja, Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Tâshkandî and others, to fa3

4

Alexander Morrison, Russian Rule in Samarkand 1868-1910. A Comparison with British India (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), pp. 63-64; Robert McChesney, “The Central Asian Hajj-Pilgrimage in the Time of the early modern Empires,” in Michel Mazzaoui, ed., Safavid Iran and Her Neighbors (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2003), pp. 129-156. Hajj sayâhatî (Kazan: Barâdarân Karîmovlar nashrî, 1912), pp. 9-10.

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miliarize themselves with widely varying levels of development in the Caucasus, Turkey, Egypt and India. Alerted to the relative backwardness of their homeland, intellectuals began to consider how they might improve this domestic state of affairs. Hajjnâma works attest to the salience of such concerns. In the well-known Muntakhab al-tawârikh, Hakîm Khân Tûra recounts how he spent two years visiting Russian cities such as Semipalatinsk, Omsk, Irkutsk, Troitsk, Orenburg and Astrakhan, familiarising himself with Russian customs and manners, and meeting several governors and other members of the high administration; according to his own words, he even had a conversation in Orenburg with the Russian Emperor Alexander I (1777-1825). From Russia, he went via the Caucasus and the Black Sea to Istanbul, and from there further on to Egypt. After he had finished his pilgrimage, he spent another year in Egypt and then returned to Bukhara via Iran. His journey lasted from 1823 to 1828. After his extended travels around the world, he finally settled in Shahrisabz where he completed his writings. In fact, the very topic of travels and routes tend to be more interesting than the destination of the pilgrimage. A less familiar work is Hâjî ‘Abd al-Rahmân Samarqandî’s Al-Rîsâla alMubâraka Tabyîn Ahwâl al-Makka al-Mu‘azzama wa al-Madîna al-Munawwara wa al-Masjid al-Aqsâ. According to Mikluho-Maklai, the author lived in the nine5 teenth century and wrote his travelogue between 1847 and 1860. Two copies are preserved in the collections of the Oriental Institute, call number 12805/VI (ff. 108a133a) and 5199/V (ff. 76b-106b). This is a sort of guidebook for pilgrims starting their journey from Central Asia and following the route to Mecca and Medina via Herat, Mashhad, Tehran, Baghdad, Diyarbakir, Urfa, Shâm (Syria) and Al-Quds (Jerusalem). ‘Abd al-Rahmân describes numerous holy places (mazâr) along the route to the Hijaz: Ibn ‘Arabî’s mausoleum at Damascus; the tombs of Dâ’ûd, Mûsâ and Isâ; the shrines of Ibrâhîm and Yûsuf at Mecca; and the graves of the Four Caliphs and their daughters in Medina. In other words, here the pious visits (ziyârat) represent an important part of the hajj narrative. The Sayâhatnâma-yi Sayyid Ahmad Khwâja is the account of the hajj journey undertaken by Sayyid Ahmad Khwâja Naqîb ibn Muhammad Khwâja Naqîb (born 6 1795-1796), a nephew of the Bukharan sovereign Amîr Haydar (r. 1800-1826). The work sheds some light on the activities of its author. We read that Sayyid Ahmad was appointed governor of Nurata during the early years of Amîr Nasr Allâh (r. 7 1826-1860), and that he succeeded his father as naqîb, one of the highest offices 5 6 7

N.D. Mikluho-Maklai Opisanie persidskikh i tadzhikskikh rukopisei Instituta vostokovedeniia, vol. 1 (Moscow: Nauka, 1955), pp. 97-98 (no. 85). The work exists in a single manuscript. The first few folios of the manuscript are missing, and the above-cited title (as given in SVR, entry no. 519) is an editorial extrapolation. Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb, Sayâhatnâma, fol.1b.

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8

(‘âlî mansab) in the Bukharan emirate. A little later, however, in 1850-1, he set out for hajj, his relationship with the Amîr having by then deteriorated. The work gives further information on the author’s journey between Khiva, Astrabad, Tehran, Tabriz, Erzurum, Trebizond, Istanbul and Alexandria, but is silent as to his final destination. The travel account ends with a description of Alexandria. As his Sayâhatnâma shows, Sayyid Ahmad had been well received by a number of rulers and governors along his route. Among these were the Khan of Khiva, Muhammad Amîn Khân (r. 1845-1855) and the Iranian Nâsir al-Dîn Shâh (1848-1896). Besides lavish meals and palaces, the Sayâhatnâma also describes, albeit briefly, the wealth of the various cities through which the narrator had travelled. We also encounter short passages on the convictions and characters of the peoples whom he encountered, as well as the prices in the bazaars. A second, somewhat later Bukharan to relate his memories of the pilgrimage journey was Wâzih. Written in a rather style livelier than Sayyid Ahmad’s Sayâhatnâma, the Gharâ’ib al-Khabar fî ‘Ajâ’ib al-Safar and Sawânih al-Mamâlik wa Farâsikh al-Masâlik gives detailed information about towns and villages in which Wâzih stayed and through which he passed. Wâzih describes the natural environment of these places, as well as their climate, the peoples who inhabited them, the languages spoken there, their juridical school (madhhab), their economic activities and money, the history of specific towns, the etymologies of their names and the sacred places that were to be found there. As rightly noticed by Rasul Hadizade 9 (born in 1928), Wâzih’s primary objective was not to discuss his experiences in Mecca and Medina: instead, he wished to inform his reader about the journey itself. Significantly, the Turkestani intelligentsia regarded this book with great interest; the work was consequently widely re-copied, before a printed edition appeared in 1904 at Kagan. Having performed the hajj in 1888, an individual called Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm ibn Dâmullâh Mîrzâ Rahîm Tâshkandî produced two brief works about his pilgrimage. These were entitled Dar Bayân-i Râh-i Hajj and Ka‘bat-Allâh-i Sharîfnîng 10 Darwâzalârî Bayânî. Both works are in Turki and were compiled in a single 11 volume together with Hidâyat al-Mû’minîn and several poems. Until now Mîrzâ 8

9 10 11

According to D. Iusupova, there is evidence that Sayyid Ahmad had also been betrothed with the office of naqib during the time of Amir Haydar. See D.Iu. Iusupova, “Svedeniia Bukharskogo nakiba Sayyid Akhmad Khodji o Khivinskom khanstve serediny XIX v.,” Trudy molodykh uchenykh i aspirantov Instituta vostokovedeniia ANRUz, Part 2 (Tashkent: Fan, 1969), p. 40. Rasul Hadizade, Istochniki k izucheniiu tadjkskoi literatury vtoroi polovinyi XIX veka (Stalinabad: Izd-vo AN Taj. SSR, 1956), p. 46. Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm ibn Dâmullâh Mîrzâ Rahîm Tâshkandî, Turki MS (Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 9373/IV and no. 9373/V.) Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm ibn Dâmullâh Mîrzâ Rahîm Tâshkandî, Hidâyat al-Mû’minîn Turki MS (Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 9373/I).

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‘Âlim has been known to the scientific community primarily as the author of 12 Târîkh-i Turkistân. It has often been assumed that nothing can be gleaned about his earlier life except that he edited the newspaper Tûrkistân Wilâyatînîng Gaz13 etî. If we do not restrict ourselves to Târîkh-i Turkistân, however, and actually consult Mîrzâ ‘Âlim’s aforementioned hajjnâma, we come across a verse composi14 tion, rich in autobiographical detail. As the verse composition makes clear, Mîrzâ ‘Âlim was in fact closely entangled in the political turmoil of the 1880s in the Khanate of Kokand. In the time of Khudâyâr Khân (r. 1845-1875), we read, the author was entrusted for a while with the duty of court secretary. When the Khan had to give up the throne, the Kirghiz not only seized Mîrzâ ‘Âlim’s possessions but took him prisoner and held him in custody in Âq Qurghân. The arrival of the Russians ended the Kirghiz oppression. But the Russians accused him of purloining some fifty books from the Khan’s library, and subjected him to torture. Having secured his release by handing over some ten books, Mîrzâ ‘Âlim spent the rest of his life in poverty and was forced to pursue various professions. According to the historian Zeki Velidi Togan, Khudâyâr Khân set out for hajj via India after he had to give up the Kokand throne. When he saw the electricity which the British had installed in Bombay, the water pipelines and various machines, words failed him: “Now that have we got the power, what have we done for our people? How have we worked for the benefit of our country? [Instead] we have been quarrelling and fighting with such peoples and thought we could gain rule in the entire world,” he stated re15 gretfully. One could take this as a belated regret and a heart’s confession regarding his reign, for while the power and possibilities had still been in his hands, he had not worked towards improvement and prosperity of the country in any remarkable way. In the second half of the nineteenth century, many poets belonging to the literary circle of Kokand, such as Zâkirjân Khâlmuhammad Ughlî Furqat (1858-1909), ‘Ubayd Allâh Makhdûm Ghurbat (born 1850 or 1853; date of death unknown), Îshân Bâbâkhân Nâdim (1844-1910), ‘Ubayd Allâh Muhammad Ughlî Zawqî (18531921) and Husaynqulî Sulaymânqulî Ughlî Muhsinî (1860-1917), wrote accounts of their various hajj pilgrimages. In the archive of the Institute of Oriental Studies, the hajjnâmas of Nâdim, Zawqî and Muhsinî, written in verse and describing their authors’ pilgrimages, are kept alongside single bayâz with poems of Furqat, Ghurbat, Muhyî and many other poets who similarly wrote about the hajj. 12 13 14 15

See, Mirzo Olim Makhdum Hoji. Tarixi Turkiston. Ed. by Sh. Vohidov and R.Kholiqova (Tashkent: Yangi Asr Avlodi, 2008). Mirzo Olim Mahdum Hoji, p. 38. Hidâyat al-Mû’minîn, fol. 113a-128a. Ahmad Zakî Valîdî, Khudâyârnîng songgî kûnlârî (Kazan, 1915), p. 30.

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While living in Tashkent, Furqat wrote a number of satirical poems about the local suffering and oppression caused by corrupt Russian officials. The authorities thus dispatched him into exile, on the pretext of sending him to hajj. In May 1891, Furqat boarded the train in Samarkand and took the route towards the Arab lands via Krasnovodsk, Baku and Istanbul. After his pilgrimage he went to Bombay in autumn 1892, where he stayed for three or four months before visitin several other Indian cities and villages. Later he passed through Tibet to China, and stayed in Qarghaliq and Khotan. He later came to Yarkand, where he was to spend the rest of his life, unable to obtain permission to return to his own country. It is not yet known whether Furqat left any journalistic writings about his journey; for the time being, our discussion is based on the verse-form letters which he sent from Istanbul and Bombay. Mahmûd Khwâja Behbûdî, one of the leading figures of the reform movement (jadîdchîlîk harakatî) in Turkestan, twice participated in the pilgrimage. In 1914 he gave a detailed account of his second journey, which he published as Sayâhat Khâtirlârî (Memories of a journey) in several successive issues of Âyna, a journal 16 which he had founded. According to Behbûdî’s testimony, his aim in setting out had been to bring back books from Istanbul, the Crimea, the Caucasus, Kazan and India. Furthermore, he wanted to supply the Âyna journal with pictures of famous buildings in Russia and foreign countries and other similar objects of importance. On his outward journey, Behbûdî passed the Caucasus, the Crimea, Istanbul, Greece, Beirut and Cairo, and on his return he came via Istanbul, Bulgaria, Austria and Berlin to Russia, whence he travelled on to Turkestan. When we examine the above-noted hajjnâmas, we observe between them a range of thematic differences, and a clear evolution over time. Produced early on in the period under discussion, travelogues such as that of Hâjî ‘Abd al-Rahmân Samarqandî primarily confine themselves to religious concerns. Later pilgrims, by contrast, accord explicit attention also to the state of society and civilisation in the countries through which they passed, and seek to offer comparisons with Turkestan. Even among these more politically attuned later authors, however, one notes variation. For instance, Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb accords extensive attention to the foreign countries through which he travelled, but he refrains from drawing contrasts with the state of affairs back home. Hâkim Khân, Wâzih and Behbûdî, by contrast, devote explicit attention to the relative degrees of progress and reform in Turkestan and the wider world.

16

Mahmudxo’ja Behbudiy, “Sayohat xotiralari,” in Tanlangan asarlar, ed. by Begali Qosimov (Tashkent: Ma’naviyat, 1999), pp. 54-145.

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Travel Impressions Upon arriving at any city along their route, pilgrims tended first to observe the state of its economic fortunes. According to them, almost every town in Russia, Turkey, Egypt and Iran was flourishing and well developed. Arab towns like Samarra, Baghdad and Kufa by contrast were depicted as being in a “ruined and poor” state. In the writings of most of the travelers, the praise of Istanbul ranges prominent. The city’s Friday mosques, ships, steamers, bridges and public baths aroused the authors’ attention. For example, when Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm relates that “one hundred ships have entered the city [i.e. the port] of Istanbul, and one hundred have left it”, he also notices the income from its bridges where each person was charged a certain amount of money for crossing it depending on the means of 17 transport. In the same vein he shares the following information about the Hagia Sophia mosque: “And then we saw the mosque of a famous person who has passed away called Ayoz Sofi. Its length is 140 feet (qadam) and its width 120 feet, and a cupola unites all its height. And then there were two candles on the two sides of the mihrâb. Their length was two qulâch (old fathoms) and their circumference seven qashish (spans). The columns of the above-mentioned mosque are seventy in 18 number and it also has seventy chandeliers ...” Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb notes that there were another twenty mosques comparable to the Hagia Sophia that was ded19 icated to the Padishah alongside cemeteries. Wâzih finally lingers in detail on a modern public bath in Istanbul, telling about its cleanliness, the hot and cold water 20 running constantly from its tabs and other amenities. Pilgrims often noted the economic strength of the countries through which they passed, together with the bustling trade of the markets, the standard of living of the local populations and the sanitary provisions of the cities.While staying in 21 Greece, for example, Furqat wrote: The buildings are mainly from marble stone Adorned with gold, a view of nothing but mirrors Every shop is made from stone It lets you open your mouth in praise, as high as the sky 22

In a letter which he wrote from Bombay, we read the following lines: 17 18 19 20 21 22

Dar Bayân-i Râh-i Hajj, f. 157a-b. Dar Bayân-i Râh-i Hajj, f 157b. Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb, Sayâhatnâma, fol. 74b. Qârî Rahmat Allâh Wâzih, Sawânih al-Mamâlik wa Farâsikh al-Masâlik, Persian MS (Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 110), ff. 45b-47b. Furqat, She’rlar, ed. Kh. Rasul, (Tashkent: O’zakademnashr, 1958), p. 63. Furqat, She’rlar, pp. 178-179.

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I have not seen on the earth’s surface a city like the beloved Bombay Even if I strolled Egypt and Istanbul and the Bulgar’s land… There are countless street markets, each with thousands and thousands of shops, Trade is very advanced, bristling are the bazaars

When looking carefully at the poems Furqat wrote while he was living in Tashkent (“‘Ilm khâsiyatî”, “Gîmnasiya”, “Tîpografiya” etc.) as well as at the letters which he later sent from foreign countries, the attention he paid to two preconditions of a country’s development becomes evident. First, he focuses on modern education and crafts, scientific-technical achievements along with the acquirement of Russian language skills. Secondly, he does not fail to notice the vital importance of trade and of regulating the interconnection of commodities and money for development. The pilgrims from Turkestan did not forget to inform their fellow countrymen about technical innovations like steamships and trains as well. Hakîm Khân writes as follows about the steamship: “It is a big ship, they call it ghurâb, I tried and entered it, it is astonishing... Inside there were twelve cannons and it is ready to take one 23 thousand people and three storeys (âshyânalîk).” Wâzih, meanwhile, writes about another technological development, namely the railway. “It is a fire wagon (araba) which was called zheliz and reyl and mâshîn in the Russian conquest, the Persians named it râh-i âhang, it can be found 24 in places from here to Ashkhabad”. More particularly, Wâzih considers with interest the fact that trains are a product of human intelligence and insight, and he explains how their ability to move is based on man’s mastery of physical laws. Elsewhere he accords attention to other instances of technological progress. Relating how he visited one of the corn mills of Istanbul, he gives the following account: “During my journey, I went to a [certain] place where a five-storey building had been erected, and in it millstones were grinding. When I asked, I was told that it was a corn mill... One machine separated the husks from the flour, and a second one separated the flour into high, standard [middle] and low kinds [of quality]. I noted that they took water from the sea and conducted it to the millstones and machines through pipes under which a fire was burning. As the water heated up, it boiled, with the steam setting the millstones and machines into motion: and these would thus serve their prescribed function.” Other pilgrims dwelled on the justice and political freedom in Russia and Turkey. Hakîm Khân for instance, who had been with the mayor of Orenburg, related the following conversation: “It is our basic habit not to submit anyone to violence... I said: “The wellbeing of a country is [dependent on] the justice of the ruler, as I 23 24

Hakîm Khân Tûra, Muntakhab al-Tawârîkh, Turki MS (Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 594), fol. 45a. Wâzih, Sawânih, f. 12b.

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have maintained for a long time. If your homeland were like Mawarannahr, it would be impossible to live even for one day.” And I thereupon recited this verse: Paradise is where there is no offence 25 Where no one interferes with the business of the other.”

Having settled in northern Anatolia, Hâjî Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb wrote in his mem26 oirs of Trebizond that in this place “no man would oppress another man.” Muhammad Sâlih, meanwhile, related the joy with which Ottoman subjects received from the sultan a telegram congratulating them upon the celebration of ‘ayd al-fitr. He then proceeded to contrast the favorable relationship between the sultan and the Ottoman people with the unsatisfactory behavior of the government in his own country: The padishah of our own country is an oppressor, Arrogant towards his citizens. Even if he performs an easy task it will be full of mistakes [If we do] not free ourselves, these troubles [will last] until Judgment 27 Day

In the course of the pilgrimage, Central Asian who had grown up in an environment where brutal oppression was the norm thus encountered the possibility of a life free of oppression: and they came to understand the vital importance of such a society for the people.

Sociopolitical Intentions In our travel accounts, we sometime find mention of the difficulties which the pilgrims encountered in Russian cities as a result of not knowing the language. Muhammad Sâlih, for instance, tells how pilgrims from Turkestan became upset because they could not explain to the conductors at the train station in Rostov where they wanted to go: the author complained about the “infidels” who were laughing 28 at the pilgrims’ condition. But this was not a universal complaint. Though contemporary with Muhammad Sâlih, enlighteners such as Furqat, Awâz Ötar and ‘Abd Allâh Awlânî were more familiar with Russian language and European technology and culture, and consequently less exposed to difficulty. Hâkim Khân Tûra, for instance, had learnt Russian during a stay in Russia of almost two years, and he was closely acquainted with the Russian way of life. He speaks longingly about the achievements which the Russian state had made in the 25 26 27 28

Hakîm Khân Tûra, Muntakhab, fol. 329a. Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb, Sayâhatnâma, fol. 69b. Muhammad Sâlih, Hajjnâma (Tashkent, 1914), p.13. Muhammad Sâlih, Hajjnâma, p.3.

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fields of trade, education and military, and about the flourishing state of Russian cities. He also informs us about the medical treatments of experienced doctors in Orenburg’s hospitals, and about the care and concern which the state showed by 29 funding orphanages for homeless children. Having witnessed the high standard of the soldiers’ military preparatory exercises in the Shamay province, he drew a pessimistic contrast with the state of affairs back home: “seeing this”, he writes, “the ex30 ercises of our soldiers resemble child’s play”. Pilgrims emphasised the freedom enjoyed by women in Russia and Turkey, in comparison with Uzbek women. In Russia, Hakîm Khân observed, women went around uncovered, mingling and talking with men; should a governor be absent, he continued, the governor’s wife would even take his administrative responsibilities upon herself. Similarly, Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb describes with wonder how “curly31 haired fairy-like women” engaged in trade. Not all our authors thought highly of such behavior. Despite writing almost half a century after Hakîm Khân and Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb, Muhammad Sâlih disapproved strongly of how local women strolled freely in the streets as if they were men, and stressed the difficulties which women encountered when boarding the crammed Rostov-Sevastopol train: That day, man and woman became mixed, Be aware, that day, it was [like] the Last Judgment. To a woman, the road to hajj was like this 32 Oh friend, don’t drag your woman there.

Other such differences of opinion proliferate. While Wâzih, for instance, praised the buildings of Caucasian towns which had come under Russian rule, Behbûdî drew a more pessimistic impression of the economic and political circumstances in such places. Lamenting the ignorance of the Muslim population in Kislovodsk, who had not even one madrasa, Behbûdî wrote: “Just as we Turkestanis spend our wealth on weddings, funerals and the köpkarî game (a kind of polo with the carcass of a sheep or goat), the majority of these Muslim brothers of ours take a girl and run away with her, they spend money on fights, they kill each other, and in the time following they waste their money in court rooms and their lives in the Siberian 33 steppes and are lost.” Behbûdî also described in detail the pilgrimage sites which he visited in Palestine. But his travel account differs from pilgrimage accounts offering practical advice or spiritually edifying descriptions of the route. When setting down his impressions of Palestine’s pilgrimage sites, Behbûdî recurrently compared the life of 29 30 31 32 33

Hakîm Khân Tûra, Muntakhab, fol. 333b-334a. Hakîm Khân Tûra, Muntakhab fol. 323a. Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb, Sayâhatnâma, fol. 65a-b. Muhammad Sâlih, Hajjnâma, p. 4. Mahmûd Khoja Behbûdî, Sayohat, p. 61.

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the Muslim Arabs dwelling there with the life of Central Asian Muslims. While describing with approval the university of Beirut, where students could study German, French and English in addition to Arabic, he expressed with regret that among the student body, drawn from all across the Muslim world, there was not a 34 single person from Bukhara or Turkestan. Even when describing the cultural monuments of Jaffa, Behbûdî specifically dwells on the issue of schools. “Jaffa can boast the teaching of ten thousand Muslims”, he writes, “and our Samarkand the teaching of eighty thousand. But if there are a hundred students in the Sultanate (the Ottoman Empire), they learn Arabic, Turkish and French... The state schools of Samarkand would not suffice for Muslim children even if the population of 35 Samarkand amounted only to half of ten.” It has become clear that Behbûdî was first and foremost interested in matters of daily life. In this context, Ingeborg Baldauf’s thoughts are quite correct: “Under the pretense of a journey to Quddûs-i Sharîf, Jerusalem the Noble, Mahmudkhoja compiled this work to tell the readers the sorrows and griefs, the ailments and troubles of Central Asia that lay at the 36 bottom of his heart as well as to show his compatriots their faults.” Even if some pilgrims did not compose a travel or pilgrimage account about their hajj journey, they dedicated themselves to the promotion of scientific and educational achievements and political freedom after returning from the hajj. In 1887, at the age of 25, Ishâq Khân Ibrat (1862-1937) left his hometown of Namangan and accompanied his mother for the hajj to Mecca. His extended pilgrimage was lengthy. Between 1887 and 1895, he passed through several European cities such as Istanbul, Sofia, Athens, and Roma, and he spent several years in Kabul and Jeddah. When his mother died in 1891, he left Mecca to go to India via the Red Sea and the Arabian Sea. Between 1892 and 1896, he lived in Bombay and Calcutta. Then, in 1896, he settled in Burma. He finally came back to Namangan through China and Kashgar. These travels across different countries allowed him to apprehend the evolution and interaction of cultures, and shaped his intellectual personality. During his travels, Ibrat studied languages. In India he learned Arabic, Persian, Hindi and Persian, and elsewhere he studied elements of Hebrew, Phoenician and Syriac. He also learned western languages, studying French when in the Arabic countries and English when in India. By immersing himself in the traditions, arts and way of life of the people he encountered, Ibrat came conversant in ways of European and non-European culture alike. Upon his return to Namangan, he also 34 35 36

Mahmûd Khoja Behbûdî, Sayohat, p. 160. Mahmûd Khoja Behbûdî, Sayohat, p. 138. Ingeborg Baldauf, “Mahmudxo’ja Behbudiy Falastinda,” in Begali Qosimov, ed., Mahmudxo’ja Behbudiy. Sayohati xotiralari. Tanlangan asarlar (Tashkent Ma’naviyat, 1999), p. 264.

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brought with him some distinctly modern ideas. In March 1907, he turned his house 37 into a free school applying the phonetic (sawtiyya) method, and in 1914 he foun38 ded a Russian school at Turakurgan. In addition to this, the Reformist hajji promoted science and technology in conformity with the progressive role of the usûl-i jadîd. In 1907, he purchased lithograph equipment at Orenburg to create a printing house. From the books printed in his own tipografia, he constituted a library called Kutubkhâna-yi Ishâqiyya, which contains also books in Turkish, Tatar, and Russi39 an. In the accounts of Sadr al-Dîn ‘Aynî, one of Bukhara’s prominent ulama, we read how Mufti Dâmullâ Ikrâm (1848-1928) made a volte-face during his hajj pilgrimage. Having previously been influenced by Ahmad Dânish‘s refomist ideas, Dâmullâ Ikrâm became acquainted with educational circles in Turkey. When he returned to his homeland he reformed the madrasa and participated in activities for the foundation of new-method (usûl-i jadîd) schools. In his work Bukhârâ Inqilâbî Târîkhî, ‘Aynî wrote on this matter as follows: “In 1312 hijri the Bukharan ulama Dâmullâ Ikrâm and Dâmullâ Awâz returned from the Hijaz. When these persons set out for their hajj journey, this experience opened their eyes and, upon their return, they brought back a lot of examples. Dâmullâ Awâz reformed the lessons he held in such a way that he did not interfere with politics anymore. He expelled meaningless sharh and hâshiya, dry Friday prayers (khutba) and subjects from his own curriculum. As for Dâmullâ Ikrâm, he in contrast started to criticize the Emir, 40 the minister, the Mufti and the judges, the ulama and the curricula.” One of the enlighteners of Samarkand was Sayyid Ahmad Siddîqî who also in the late 1890s set out on horseback for his journey to Mecca. We know that he served as translator in the Russian embassy in Jeddah in 1900. In Tiflis, he got acquainted with Jalîl Mamadqulîzâda and ‘Alî Akbar Tâhirzâda (Sâbir). Upon return41 ing to his homeland, in 1901 the poet opened a new-method school. The enlightener Muhammadsharîf Sufîzâda (1880-1937) who had been exiled because of his 37 38 39 40

41

As early as 1886, Ishâq Ibrat found the first new school (usûl-i jadîd school) of his village. Ishâq Khân Ibrat, Jâmi‘ al-khutût (Namangan: Matba‘a-yi Ishâqiyya, 1912), p. 4. Ulughbek Dolimov, Ishoqkhon Ibrat (Tashkent: Sharq, 1994), pp. 52-64. Sadr al-Din ‘Aynî, Bukhârâ Inqilâbînîng Târîkhî, Turki MS (Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 2125), ff. 50a-51a. See also Hélène Carrère d’Encausse, Réforme et révolution chez les Musulmans de Russie (Paris: Presses de la Fondation Nationale des Sciences Politiques, 1981), pp. 139-140; Stéphane A. Dudoignon, “Faction struggles among the Bukharan ulama during the colonial era, the revolutionary and the early Soviet period (18681929),” in Sato Tsugitaka, ed., Muslim Societies. Historical and Comparative Aspects (London-New York: RoutledgeCurzon, 2004), p. 92 note 37. Begali Qosimov, Milliy Uyg’onish: jasorat, ma‘rifat, fidoyilik (Tashkent: Ma’naviyat, 2002), p. 204. One finds further biographical data in Adeeb Khalid, The Politics of Muslim Cultural Reform. Jadidism in Central Asia (Berkeley-Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1998), pp. 94-95.

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thoughts that were ahead of the times spent the years between 1900 and 1913 in Tiflis, Baku, Arabia, India and Turkey. In 1913, after he had returned to his native 42 town Chust (Ferghana valley), he opened a new method school as well. Also worthy of discussion is their contemporary, the noted Jadid ‘Abd al-Ra’ûf Fitrat, who in his youth took part in the hajj pilgrimage and visited Turkey, Arabia and India. On the initiative of the society Tarbiya-yi atfâl (The Education of Children), founded in Bukhara in 1909, Fitrat was among a number of students who were sent 43 to Istanbul for their studies, and from 1909 until 1913 he studied at the Dâr almu‘allimîn (a training school for teachers in Istanbul). There he composed and published works including Munâzara, Sayha and Bayân-i Sayyâh-i Hind. These works bear rich testimony to the new ideas Fitrat which came across during his hajj pilgrimage and his studies in Turkey. For example, the author describes the subject and content of his Munâzara as follows: “(...) This story relates a debate (munâzara) between a Bukharan mudarris who went on hajj and a European whom he met in India, about the new [schooling] system (usûl-i jadîd) and the old method 44 (usûl-i qadîm); it aims at resolving this matter completely”. If Fitrat in Munâzara came up with ideas about enlightenment and the renewal of Islam, in Bayân-i Sayyâh-i Hind he criticised the ruling system of the Amir. In both of these works he highlights the problems with the Amir’s rule by means of a rhetorical contrast with India. Fitrat placed great importance on inspiring not only the Jadids and the national liberation movement of the Bukharan Emirate but of the whole of Turkestan with his works. In his autobiography, Hamza Hâkimzâda Niyâzî acknowledged that his political consciousness was directly incited during hajj travel: “Because my father set out for hajj in the year 1907, and because I saw him off as far as Kashgar, I read for the first time the newspapers Waqt and Bâqhchasarây and returned carrying with me what I had learned from them. From then on, day by day, I started to question the old superstitions (khurâfât), the madrasa teachings, the changes in the lives of the 45 people, and economic matters”. Hamza performed his own hajj journey between 1912 and 1914. According to experts on Hamza, his first intention was to go to Baku and get acquainted with the cultural life there, and to learn from the experiences of his Azeri friends. While on the Krasnovodsk train, however, the poet accepted the invitation of some rich people on their way to hajj who did not know a word of Russian, and instead joined them. During the course of the journey, the poet be42 43 44 45

Begali Qosimov, Milliy Uyg’onish, p. 294. Again, for additional data, see Adeeb Khalid, The Politics of Muslim Cultural Reform, p 111. Sadr al-Dîn ‘Aynî, Bukhârâ Inqilâbining Târîkhî, ff. 194a-195a. . ‘Abd al-Ra’ûf Fitrat, Tanlangan asarlar, vol. 1, ed. O. Sharafiddinov et alii (Tashkent: Ma’naviyat, 2000), p. 46. Laziz Qayumov, Saylanma. Hamza Hakimzoda Niyoziy hayoti va ijodi, vol. 2 (Tashkent: Yosh Gvardiya, 1981), p. 90.

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came acquainted with life in many countries, and his thoughts on enlightenment became decisive. He regretted the backward nature of his homeland, the comparatively low societal and cultural level of his people. In his poem “Ana özgalâr, mana bîz” (There are the others, here are we) he strove to show his own people their specific shortcomings, and to establish that the road to progress lay first and foremost through education. We cite a few couplets from this poem: While others hold newspapers, We have reins of race-horses in our hands. While others open libraries, We settle down in hashish dens. While others sing the praises of education, 46 We play trumpets in wedding chambers.

Hamza propagated education through his poems which were published during these years in newspapers and journals such as Âyna, Sadâ-yi Tûrkistân and Sadâyi Farghâna and he also taught children and adults in a new-method school which he had founded. The hajj journeys of Turkestan’s enlightened intellectuals brought them to countries they found more advanced, acquainted them with examples of scientific progress and prepared the ground for their future as poets and scholars dedicated to education. The hajj journey of course did not change every pilgrim’s worldview in a favorable manner. On the contrary, when some poorly educated mullahs returned from their pilgrimage, gaining the title hâjî, their contemporary poets claimed satirically that their hypocrisy and boastfulness had actually increased. Anbar Âtîn, for instance, wrote the following lines about a wealthy Kokandi called ‘Âlim Khân, 47 who used the income which he had made through money-lending to go on hajj: He multiplied his money, went to hajj, a profiteer of the title hâjî, Returning from the Ka‘ba, how big he became, our infamous hâjî!

Conclusion Over the course of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, there was an increase in both the quantity and the ambition of literary works composed in the genre of the pilgrimage account (hajjnâma) and travel account (sayâhatnâma). Authors continued the long-held tradition of using travel narratives as a medium with which to tell colourful stories about the different landscapes and people, cities and villages, and customs and practices which they encountered along the way. Within this tradition, however, innovations began to appear. Authors slowly abandoned their old 46 47

Sadâ-yi Farghâna, 1914, 4 July, no. 25. Anbar Âtin, She’rlar. Risola, ed. F. Husainova (Tashkent: G’afur G’ulom, 1970), p. 30.

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discursive style, reformulating their narratives into carefully poised and focused mirrors with which to cast light upon life in their homeland. By comparing their own country and people with the lands and populations which they encountered on their travels, authors sought to cast in high perspective the economic and cultural backwardness of the land in which they lived: and to initiate a debate as to how such a situation might be improved. For all of these authors, hajj was a turning point in their life, less as a religious experience than an experience of the world without which the ideals of reform and progress would have remained abstractions. The great journey accomplished, Jadid intellectuals became more radical, judged their rulers or fellow believers more severely and followed through the principles of Jadidism. Such a complete break and experience of distanciation might have some resonance for Central Asian intellectuals today. Translated from the Uzbek by Jeanine Elif Dağyeli

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Proceedings of the 27th Meeting of Haneda Memorial Hall Symposium on Central Asia and Iran, August 30, 1993. Kyoto: Haneda Memorial Hall Institute of Central Asian Studies - Kyoto University, 1993, pp. 36-40. Ibrat, Ishâq Khân. Jâmi‘ al-khutût. Namangan: Matba‘a-yi Ishâqiyya, 1912. Iusupova, D.Iu. “Svedenuua Bukharskogo nakiba Sayyid Akhmad Khodji o Khivinskom khanstve serediny XIX v.” In Trudy molodykh uchenykh i aspirantov Instituta vostokovedeniia ANRUz. Part 2. Tashkent: Fan, 1969, pp. 39-48. Khalid, Adeeb. The Politics of Muslim Cultural Reform. Jadidism in Central Asia. Berkeley-Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1998. McChesney, Robert. “The Central Asian Hajj - Pilgrimage in the Time of the early modern Empires.” In Michel Mazzaoui, ed., Safavid Iran and Her Neighbours. Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2003, pp. 129-156. Miklukho-Maklai, N.D. Opisanie persidskikh i tadzhikskikh rukopisei Instituta vostokovedeniia. Volume 1. Moscow: Nauka, 1961. Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm Hâjî. Hidâyat al-Mû’minîn. Turki MS. Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 9373/I. Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm Hâjî. Dar Bayân-i Râh-i Hajj. Turki MS. Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 9373/IV. Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm Hâjî. Ka‘bat Allâh-i Sharîfnîng Darwâzalârî Bayânî. Turki MS. Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 9373/V. Mîrzâ ‘Âlim Makhdûm Hâjî. Tarikhi Turkiston. Ed. by Sh. Vohidov and R. Kholiqova. Tashkent: Yandi Asr Avlodi, 2008. Morrison, Alexander. Russian Rule in Samarkand 1868-1910. A Comparison with British India. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2008. Ne’matzoda, T. Dar borai Vozeh va asari u “Savonih ul-mamolik va farosih ulmasolik”. Stalinabad: AF RSS Tojikiston, 1957. Niyâzî, Hamza. “Ana özgalâr, mana bîz.” Sadâ-yi Farghâna, 1914, 4 July, no. 25. Qayumov, Laziz. Saylanma. Hamza Hakimzoda Niyoziy hayoti va ijodi. Vol. 2. Tashkent: Yosh Gvardiya, 1981. Qosimov, Begali. Milliy Uyg’onish: jasorat, ma‘rifat, fidoyilik. Tashkent: Ma’naviyat, 2002. Rasul, Kholid. Zokirjon Furqat ijodi. Tashkent: O’zakademnashr, 1954. Sayyid Ahmad Naqîb. [Sayâhatnâma-yi Sayyid Ahmad]. Persian MS. Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 4292. Shadmanova, S. and Shadmanov, T. “Iz istorii palomnichestva sredneaziatskikh musul’man (konets XIX - nachalo XX v.).” In Materialy mezhdunarodnoi islamovedcheskoi nauchnoi konferentsii. Moscow: Izdatel’skii dom Mardzhani, 2009, pp. 106-113. Shaykhzoda, Maqsud. “Furqat haqida qaydlar.” In Furqat va Muqimiy haqida maqolalar. Tashkent: O’zadabiynashr, 1958. Sobranie vostochnykh rukopisei Akademii nauk Uzbekistana. Istoriia. Compiled by D.Yu. Yusupova and R.P. Djalilova. Tashkent: Fan, 1998. Tâshkandî, Muhammad Sâlih. Hajjnâma. Tashkent, 1914. Valîdî, Ahmad Zakî. Khudâyârnîng songgî kûnlârî. Kazan, 1915. Validov, Ahmet Z. O Sobraniiakh rukopisei v Bukharskom khanstve. Zapiski Vostochnogo otdeleniia russkogo arkheologicheskogo obshchestva. Tashkent, 1916. Wâzih, Qârî Rahmat Allâh. Sawânih al-Mamâlik wa Farâsikh al-Masâlik. Persian MS. Tashkent: IVANUz, no. 110.

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Pilgrimage to the “Second Meccas” and “Ka‘bas” of Central Asia

Thierry Zarcone It is a frequently overlooked fact that many places across the Muslim world, from Europe all the way to India and China, have long been regarded by constituencies of the faithful as analogous in status and function to the sanctuaries of the Haramayn. Often centring upon some renowned geological feature or the mausoleum of a dead shaykh, such places are generally depicted as a “second Mecca,” “second Ka‘ba”, or “Mecca of the Persians”; in rarer instances, they are identified as a “second Medina”, equivalent to the mausoleum of the Prophet. Many of the most important of these controversial sanctuaries are located in Central Asia and in Eastern Turkestan (Chinese Tartary). This doubtless reflects in part the region’s extreme remoteness from the Arabian Peninsula and the Haramayn; it also reflects the spiritually numinous topography of a region with strong Sufi traditions. Rather than simply poor replicas of an Arabian original, several of the so-called second Meccas and Ka‘bas are actually considered by locals to be more sacred than Mecca itself, being associated as they are via some intercessory shaykhly figure with the immaculate inner dimensions of Islam; they are thus regarded in a sense as inner, hidden Meccas. Among these “second Meccas”, we find extensive variation in the acknowledged efficaciousness of pilgrimage. In the case of some of these shrines, pilgrimage is regarded as complementary to the hajj; pilgrimage to others, by contrary, is deemed to be every bit as efficacious as the Arabic pilgrimage, and indeed a worthy substitute for it. Before we investigate the case of the “second Meccas” of Central Asia, it may be of interest to have a quick look at the same phenomenon in the rest of the Muslim world. According to the tenth-century Arab geographer al-Muqaddasî, there existed near Nineveh in Iraq a sanctuary which rivalled Mecca, since seven 1 visits to this place were equivalent to the Meccan pilgrimage. But most instances of the phenomenon are to be found in the non-Arab lands. In the Balkans, for instance, there exist two major holy places, one in Bulgaria and the other in BosniaHerzegovina. The mausoleum (türbe) of Yenihan Baba, situated at the top of the mountain of Svoboda in Bulgaria, is regarded as the ‘Mecca of Bulgaria (nay1

Al-Muqaddasî, Ahsan al-taqâsîm fî ma‘rifat al-aqâlîm, edited by M. J de Goeje, 2nd ed. (Leiden: 1906), p. 146-147, quoted by Lawrence I. Conrad in his article “Seven and the Tasbî‘: On the Implications of Numerical Symbolism for the Study of Medieval Islamic History,” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 31:1 (1988), p. 50.

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visokoto meke v Bŭlgariya) with a single pilgrimage thither regarded as equivalent to a pilgrimage to Mecca. Yenilhan Baba was an antinomian dervish linked to the 2 famous Otmân Baba, both being introducers of Islam in Eastern Europe. At Prusac in central Bosnia-Herzegovina, meanwhile, the tomb of the mythical Ajvaz Dedo (Ajvatovica), a supposed propagandist of Islam in the region in fifteenth century, is considered to be similar to the Meccan Ka‘ba. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the sanctuary of Ajvaz Dedo was called both the “Ka‘ba of the poor” and 3 the “Little Ka‘ba,” and visitors to this place were called hâjjî upon returning home. Imitative substitutes for the hajj exist also in Morocco, Senegal and Baluchi4 stan. In India, meanwhile, an inscription dated 1657 in the congregational mosque in the city of Old Mada in Bengal presents this sanctuary as a “second Ka‘ba” 5 (thânî Ka‘ba). Noteworthy also is the case of an Indian “second Medina”. The shrine in question is located at Srinagar in Kashmir, at the tomb of Hazratbal. As the repository of a single sacred hair belonging to the Prophet Muhammad, Hazratbal’s tomb also functions as an imitative mausoleum of the Prophet. According to Muhammad Ishaq Khan, in an article on the shrine, this imitative function reflects the “practical difficulties in performing the sacred duties of the hajj”, since the journey to Arabia was beyond the reach of poor Kashmiris. As Khan writes: “A visit to the shrine would, at least, have reduced in the devotees’ religious consciousness (the apparent difference of) the physical barriers between the ‘Arab and the ‘Ajam’”. To make the point clearer, Khan quotes the following verses of a local poet: Whosoever has seen the sacred hair of Muhammad, Has had in reality the vision of the Prophet, [Although] he is entombed in Arabia, His sacred hair sanctifies the ‘ajam He reveals the eternal reality of his radiance only to those in Kashmir 6 Who have an abiding faith and are spiritually illuminated. 2

3 4 5 6

Valeri Grigorov, “Tyurbeta Pochitani ot Bŭlgarite-Myusyulmani ot Srednite Rodopi,” in Rositsa Gradeva and Svetlana Ivanova, eds., Myusyulmanskata Kultura po Bŭlgarskite Zemi (Sofia: Mezhdunaroden Tsent’r po Problemite na Maltsinstvata i Kulturnite Vzaimodeystviya, 1998), p. 557. Nathalie Clayer and Alexandre Popovic, “Le Culte d’Ajvatovica et son pèlerinage annuel,” in Henri Chambert-Loir and Claude Guillot, eds., Le Culte des saints dans le monde musulman (Paris: Ecole Française d’Extrême-Orient, 1995), pp. 356, 360. See Barbara D. Metcalf, “The Pilgrimage Remembered: South Asian Accounts of the hajj,” in Dale F. Eickelman, and James Piscatori, eds., Muslim Travellers. Pilgrimage, Migration, and the Religious Imagination (London: Routledge, 1990), pp. 85-107. Richard M. Eaton, The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier. 1204-1760 (London: Oxford University Press), p. 100. Muhammad Ishaq Khan, “The Significance of the Dargah of Hazratbal in the SocioReligious and Political Life of Kashmiri Muslims,” in Christian W. Troll, ed., Muslim Shrines in India (New Delhi: Manohar, 1992), p. 177.

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The “Second Mecca” at Alinjak in Kurdistan functions very differently. Known as the “Maktelgâh” (place of assassination), the shrine here is the mausoleum of Fadl Allah, fourteenth-century founder of the Hurufi movement. Given Fadl Allah’s heretical reputation, pilgrimage to his tomb functions not as a complement to the hajj but a rival alternative. Pilgrims to the tomb perform certain rituals which are heavily redolent of Meccan practices; these include circumambulation (tawâf) and the stoning of the Fort of Miranshah (or Maranshah – King of the snakes), this 7 latter a close analogue of the casting of stones at the “Devil” at Mina, near Mecca. As far away as Northern China, meanwhile, we find at Tianfang a major mausoleum of the Qâdirî Sufi lineage called the “Great Gongbei” (tomb). Although this place is not officially described as a second Mecca or Ka‘ba, the Chinese Sufis argues that the pilgrimage to Mecca is unnecessary if a pilgrimage to the “Great 8 Gongbei” is performed. For the reasons noted above, however, it is in Central Asia that we find the greatest concentration of shrines supposedly rivalling Mecca. Among such shrines, we can discern two categories. The first category comprises those “second Meccas” which serve as full substitutes for the Arabian Mecca; these are often known as “Mecca of the Persians (‘Ajam)”, “Persians” here being understood broadly to signify non-Arab peoples, whether Turks, Indians or Persians proper. To this first category belong some of the most important and visited sanctuaries of Central Asia and Eastern Turkestan, their widespread renown explaining why locals have long considered them equivalent to the temple of Mecca. Such shrines include the “Throne of Solomon” (Takht-i Sulaymân) at Ush (Kirghizstan); the “People of the Cavern” (Ashâb al-Kahf) at Turfan (Xinjiang, China) and the mausoleum (mazâr) of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq at Khotan (Xinjiang, China), each of which I shall discuss in turn. Notably, none of the above are Sufi shrines; they thus contrast with the second category of renowned places, where we find located the mausoleums and lodges of the major figures of Central Asian Sufism. As will be explained below, the word “Mecca” is sometimes replaced in this category by the term “Ka‘ba” (the temple of Mecca) or by that of “Qibla” (the direction of Mecca); consequently the expressions “second Ka‘ba” or “second Qibla”. The most representative shrines in this category are that of Ahmad Yasawî at Turkistan (Kazakhstan), Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband at Bukhara (Uzbekistan), Yûsuf Hamadânî at Bayram Ali/Merv (Turkmenistan); and Hakîm Âtâ at Bakirgan (Uzbekistan).

7 8

Irène Mélikoff, “Le Problème Bektaşi-Alévi: quelques dernières considérations,” Turcica 31 (1999), re-edited in Au Banquet des Quarante. Explorations au cœur du Bektachisme-Alévisme (Istanbul: Isis, 2001), p. 71. Ma Tong, “A Brief History of the Qâdiriyya in China” (translated from the Chinese and introduced by Jonathan Lipman), Journal of the History of Sufism 1-2 (2000), p. 565.

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“Second Meccas” and “Meccas of the Persians” The “Throne of Solomon” in the Ferghana Valley (Uzbekistan) The renowned “Throne of Solomon” (Takht-i Sulaymân), at Ush in Kirghizstan, is a surprisingly modern shrine, entering the historical records under this name only in the eighteenth or nineteenth century. It is the site of a cult dedicated to the king Solomon who, according to legend, visited Ush and stayed there for a while. A low, isolated hill situated at the centre of the city with a small edifice at the top, the Throne is not presented as the place for a tomb or a mausoleum (mazâr, ziyârat) – which is the key element in saint cult – but as a “station”, a “place of arrival” (qadam-jâ – qadam-gâh; mesto sleda in Russian). The Throne has quickly become a reputed pilgrimage destination and one of the prominent places of devotion in Central Asia. As the place where, according to local tradition, Solomon used to rule the world with the help of the jinns, the sanctuary became also a place where the latter are venerated. The Throne belongs, in our opinion, to a category of saint cult with a rich and complex ritual of devotion. First, there are several and related places of worship disseminated on the hill; secondly, the pilgrimage follows a planned route, beginning and finishing at very precise places. The itinerary followed by the pilgrims is divided into several stations, with shrines and sacred natural elements – springs, caves, rocks and trees – all being places for prayers. The seven major stations are the visiting of the throne of the King (i.e. the qadamjâ) at the top of the hill; the “slipping on the rock”; the “passing of the Sirât bridge”; the “water drops cave” (with a spring identified as the Zamzam spring of Mecca); the “Solomon stone”; the mausoleum of Asaf b. Barakhyâ (minister of Solomon); and the “spring of Paradise”. Some of these stations refers to Salomon’s mythic biography; other to the Quran (imitations of the pilgrimage at Mecca); some other to Solomon’s magical powers. Surprisingly, the ritual of circumambulation (tawâf), which is pivotal in saint cult, is replaced here by the itinerary. However, some pilgrims perform the tawâf around that edifice which is supposed to contain the throne of the king at the top of the hill. Unlike the case with a great number of saint shrines, the Throne is not linked to Sufi tradition. From a legend recorded in the nineteenth century, the mosque erected at the foot of the hill was built by the Prophet Abraham on the model of the mosque of Mecca (which was also a creation of Abraham). Called “Venerable Mecca” by Abraham, the Throne is intended to be a pilgrimage place for the Per9 sian believers, thus obviating the need for pilgrimage to the “Mecca of the Arabs”. 9

More details on the history of this shrine in Th. Zarcone, “Un Lieu saint atypique: le Trône de Salomon (Takht-i Sulaymân à Osh (Kirghizistan),” in Jean-Louis BacquéGrammont and Jean-Marie Durand, eds., L’Image de Salomon, sources et postérités (Paris-Louvain: Peeters, 2008), pp. 209-232. See also Th. Zarcone, “Atypical Mausoleum: the

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The narrator reports that the Prophet Abraham (peace be upon him) built Mecca and stayed there. After hearing about the qualities and merit of Ush, he went to this city and saw that there was no water there for anyone who might want to set up a mosque. So, Abraham drew milk from a weak camel and built a mosque according to the model of the mosque at Mecca. He gave this mosque the name of “Venerable Mosque” and said ‘Let this place be a pilgrimage (ziyâratgâh) for the people of Persia (‘Ajam). Whoever comes to this mosque during the Festival of Sacrifice and performs a prayer with two prostrations, it is as though he makes the hajj’. According to another tradition, if one goes on pilgrimage (ziyârat) to the Mecca of the Persians (Makka-yi ‘Ajam), his going to the Mecca of the Arabs (Makka-yi ‘Arab) 10 becomes unnecessary.

This tradition has continued without interruption down to the present day. In 1915, the famous author Chûlpân wrote in the Tatar journal Shûrâ that a grave (qabr) situated in a room of a mosque at the Throne of Solomon was called the “Mecca of the Persians” (Makka-yi ‘Ajam). Chûlpân adds that, since the Mecca of the Arabs (Makka-yi ‘Arab) is the “Ka‘batullâh,” this grave might be depicted as a “second 11 Ka‘ba” or a Ka‘ba for the Persians. In the middle of the twentieth century, a curator of the Throne could thus still affirm that there were two Meccas: “One is situ12 ated in Arabia and the other at Ush.” But in the Soviet period, the Throne was regarded by the Communist régime as one of the more popular and “dangerous” saint 13 cults, and it was quickly desecrated and closed. Nowadays, after the disintegra-

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Case of the Solomon Throne (Kirghizstan), qadamgâh, Demons-cult and itinerary-Pilgrimage,” in Yasushi Shinmen; Minoru Sawada, and Edward Waite, eds., Saint-Cult in Ferghana and in Xinjiang (forthcoming). See ill. 1. ...amma râwîlâr andagh riwâyat qîlib dûrlâr ka Hazrat Ibrâhîm ‘aliya al-salâm Makkayi binâ qîldîlâr Makkada tûrub Ushning ta‘rîfinî va fazîlatî îshitîb Ushqa kaldîlar kûrdîlâr kîm Ushda sû yûq masjid binâ qîlây disalâr nâ‘ilâj tîvalârînî sâghîb sûtî birla Makkaning andârasîda bir masjit binâ qîldîlâr ul masjidkâ Makka-yi mu‘azzama ât qûydîlâr ‘Ajam khalqîqa ziyâratgâh bûlsûn dîb har kîm ‘ayd qurbânda bârîb ul masjidda iki rak‘at namâz uqûsa hajj qîlghân birlân barâbar bûlûr va yina riwayâtda kilîbdûr Makka-yi ‘Ajamnî ziyârat qîlmâghûncha Makka-yi ‘Arabka bârîb bûlmâs dib dûrlâr; Anonym, “Ûsh shahrî khusûsîdaghî risâla,” edited by N. Ostroymov’, in Musulmanskoe skazanie o gorode Osh - Ûsh Shahrî Risâlasî (Tashkent: Tipo-Litografiya S. I. Lakhtina, 1885), p. 8; Russian translation by L. Zimin, “Musulmanskoe skazanie o gorode Osh - Ûsh Shahrî Risâlasî,” Protokol Zasedanii i soobshcheni chlenov turkestanskogo kruzhka liubitelei arkheologii (Tashkent: 1913), p. 6. “Bû khâna “Makka-yi ‘Ajam” imish (?) Makka-yi ‘Arab Ka‘batullâh bûlsa “Makka-yi ‘Ajam” dîgân ikînjî bir Ka‘ba da bûlâ imîsh,” Chûlpân [‘Abd al-Hamîd Sulaymân], “Ûsh,” Shûrâ 9 (1915), p. 288. Iurii Grigor’evich Petrash, Sviatye mesta obmana (Frunze: Kirgizskoe Gosudarstvennoe Izdatel’stvo, 1961), p. 16. See Alexandre Bennigsen Le Soufi et le Commissaire (Paris: Seuil, 1986), pp. 205-206;

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tion of the USSR in 1991, the pilgrimage has been reactivated and the Throne is again considered a “Second Mecca”. It draws hundred of pilgrims particularly dur14 ing the Muslim festivals. Finally, it must be said that pilgrimage to the Throne of Solomon is obviously a non-Arab pilgrimage of substitution in lieu of Mecca. Although the term “second Mecca” is not used in the case of the Throne, the tradition argues that there are two Meccas but none of them is considered superior to the other. It must be said actually that the Mecca of the Persians is complementary to that of the Arabs.

The Sanctuary of the “People of the Cavern”/ ”Seven Sleepers” at Turfan (Eastern Turkestan–Xinjiang) The sanctuary of the “People of the Cavern” (Ashâb al-Kahf), known also as “the Seven Sleepers Sanctuary” or Mazar of Tuyoq Khojam, is situated in the vicinity of the oasis of Turfan, in Northern Xinjiang. It is dedicated to seven young men – Christians, according to the earliest rendering of the story, but Muslims in subsequent tradition – who were persecuted by the infidels, and who found refuge in a cave where they remained asleep for years before waking up. The sanctuary was built upon an ancient Buddhist grave belonging to one of the most important Buddhist monastic complexes in the northern section of the Silk Roads. Many sanctuaries bearing the name of Ashâb al-Kahf exist in Northern Africa and in the Middle East, but the sanctuary in the oasis of Turfan is the furthest in Asia. The significance and the popularity of the Ashâb al-Kahf shrine lies in the fact that this legend symbolizes the victory of Islam over the Infidels – in Turfan, these latter identified as Buddhists – in the same way that the seven teenagers, after awaking from their sleep, found the pagan society replaced by Islam. With the miraculous awakening of the Seven symbolising a kind of resurrection, the tradition also recounts the victory of faith over death. The popularity of this legend is confirmed by 15 the existence of a sura (18) in the Quran named “Sura of the People of the cave”. All this may explain why the place has become since the eighteenth century the major pilgrimage destination in Eastern Turkestan and a pilgrimage equated with that of Mecca. In the nineteenth century, Uyghur ulamas and historians disputed the tradition that it was at Tuyoq that these seven young men slept and were raised from the

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and “Islamic Revival and the Anti-Islamic Campaign in the USSR,” The Central Asian Newsletter 6:5 (1987), pp. 5-6. Personal observations during the Festival of the sacrifice at the Throne of Solomon in 1995. On this saint place see Yasushi Shinmen, “The History of the Mausoleum of the Ashâb al-Kahf in Turfan,” The Memoirs of the Toyo Bunko 61(2003), pp. 83-104; Jean-Paul Loubes and Thierry Zarcone, Le Culte des Sept Dormants au Turkestan chinois. Espace, Histoire et Dévotions (Paris: Jean Maisonneuve), forthcoming.

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dead. Among the doubters, Mûsâ Sayramî lists in his political history of Eastern Turkestan several arguments showing that the cave at Tuyoq never welcomed the seven young sleepers. Sayramî furthermore denounces the popular belief according which the place is a sanctuary equivalent to the Meccan temple: Some people argue that one pilgrimage performed at Ashâb al-Kahf can be equated with a half-pilgrimage [to Mecca] (hajiliq), and two pilgrimages to this place are equivalent to a full pilgrimage [to Mecca], and, thus, the believer [who do it] is exempt for performing the pilgrimage [to Mecca]. However, those who welcome such a belief will be declared damned, apostate and infidels by the four juridical school 16 (mäzhäp) and in the community [of Muslims].

Sayramî argues therefore that the comparison of any graves or mausoleums with the Meccan sanctuary, and the performing of circumambulations and devotions at these graves, are clearly infidelities contrary to the Islamic law (sharî‘a). Sayramî 17 terms these actions as “polytheism” (shirk). Nevertheless, the popularity of the sanctuary of the Ashâb al-Kahf as a pilgrimage of substitution of the Meccan Hajj continued until the middle of the twentieth century. For instance, a Tatar traveller was told in 1915 by the pilgrims who visited this shrine that “if a man who has no strength to perform the hajj makes a pilgrimage to Ashâb Kahf, he will be as merit18 orious as if he did the hajj.” The quality of the mazâr as a “second Mecca of God” (dävvumki sani Mäkkätullah) is clearly affirmed also in a verse dedicated to the sanctuary in 1947. Tuyuq is the second Mecca of God. Tuyuq is the travel-place of those who are successful, 19 Tuyuq is the Paradise created by God.

It is worth mentioning finally that there is another sanctuary of the Ashâb al-Kahf in the Western extremity of Central Asia, namely in the Caucasus. This sanctuary 16

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Bäzi adämlärining sözigë qariganda Äshabül Kâhäfini bir ketim ziyarät qilghanliq yärim hajiliq bilän baravär, ikki ketim ziyarät qilghanliq toluq hajiliq bilän baravär ikän vä bundaq adämlärdin häj sakit bulidikän. Bundaq äqidä qilghuchilar bolsa töt mäzhäp vä millättä mäl’un vä murtäd kapir bolup hisaplinidu ; Musa Sayrami, Tarikhi Hämidi, edited by Änvär Baytur (Beijing: Millätlär Näshriyati, 1986), pp. 690-691. Sayrami, Tarikhi Hämidi, p. 690. “Haj qîlûrgha kûchî yîtmagân kishî Ashâb Kahfnî ziyârat qîlsa haj thavâbinî tâbâr,” Mîr Yûsuf Mîz Zâhidbâyûf [on Ashâb Kahf], Shûrâ 19 (1915), p. 605. Tuyuq dävvumki sani Mäkkätullah Tuyuqdur säyrgahi kamranan Tuyuqdur jännät asari huvallah. Quoted by Muhämmät Turdi and Mirzi Ähmäd, eds., “Täzkirä-i Äshabul Kähf,” Bulaq (Urumchi) 113:2 (2007), p. 113.

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(locally named Asafkef), established near Hecheparak in the Nakhichevan province of Azerbaijan, is visited annually by thousands of devotees and plays a similar role to that of the Tuyoq shrine: but it does so in an area dominated by Shi‘ism. The centre of the sanctuary comprises a grotto, like most of the Ashâb al-Kahf shrines, and a mosque. According to the Shi‘i population of the village of Hecheparak where the shrine is located, a pilgrimage to the Ashâb al-Kahf is equivalent to the pilgrimage at the tomb of Husayn, the son of ‘Alî, at Karbala (Iraq), this latter being the greatest Shi‘i pilgrimage. The Shi‘i character of the sanctuary is strengthened by an oral tradition telling that Imâm ‘Alî visited the place and prayed there, and 20 that a footprint of his horse is still visible. It appears here that the very charismatic aspect of the Ashâb al-Kahf pilgrimage stands above the cleavages of Sunnism 21 and Shi‘ism.

The Mausoleum of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq in the oasis of Khotan (Eastern Turkestan–Xinjiang) For centuries, the oasis of Khotan has been a place reputed for the presence of numerous mausoleums attributed to Shi‘i imams and of holy warriors who died as martyrs while fighting non Muslims. Although the legend regarding the coming of these imams in Eastern Turkestan to Islamize the region is a popular forgery, this tradition was strongly cultivated among the population and became a guiding prin22 ciple in many hagiographies. Not surprisingly, the mausoleum which is attributed to Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq, the most renowned Shi‘i imam and a major reference in Sufism, is the most revered in the oasis. According to a hagiography (tadhkira) from nineteenth century dedicated to the life of this imam and analyzed by the French orientalist Fernand Grenard, we know that Ja‘far Sâdiq is credited together with the other imams for the Islamisation of Turkestan. The hagiography reports that Ja‘far was told by his father to bring Islam to the countries of “Chin and Machin” (Turkestan and northern China) and that the imam conducted several

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Kadir Kadirzade, “Nahçivan’da Mukaddesler, Eren ve Evliyalarla İlgili Kutsal Yerler,” in I. Uluslararası Türk Dünyası Eren ve Evliyaları Kongresi Bildirileri, 13-16 Ağustos 1998 (Ankara: Anadolu Erenleri Kültür ve Sanat Vakfı, 1998), p. 213. K. Kadirzade is the author of many other studies (in Russian) of this shrine; see the bibliography in his article and his web page dedicated to the sanctuary: http://ashabikahf.nakhchivan.az (accessed March 2010). On this shrine see also Aygun Mämädova, “‘Äshabi-Kähf’ ziyarätgahının tädqıqınä Dair,” Dövlät vä Din (Baku) (April 2009), pp. 199-204. There is another shrine (imâmzâda) in Azerbaijan, at Kirovabade, to which seven pilgrimages are equivalent to the hajj; see S. M. Demidov, Legendy i Pravda o “sviatykh” mestakh (Ashkhabad: Ylym, 1988), p. 51. About these imams see the article of Minoru Sawada (“Pilgrimage to Sacred Places in the Taklamakan Desert: Shrines of Imams in Khotan Prefecture”) in this volume. See ill. 2 and 3.

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hard fighting against the infidels of the region. The presence of a mazâr at Khotan, attributed to Ja‘far Sâdiq, who is regarded as a martyr, is already mentioned in the sixteenth-century Târikh-i Rashîdî of Mîrzâ Muhammad Haydar 24 Dughlat. However, it is only in the eighteenth century that the shrine started to be famous as the destination for a pilgrimage of substitution in lieu of visitation to Mecca. In one of his verses dedicated to Ja‘far Sâdiq as well as in his travelogue (Safarnâme), the Turkish poet and Sufi Muhammad Dhâlilî depicts the place in the first decades of the eighteenth century as the “Mecca of the Persians” (“Äjäm Mäkkäsi”), the same expression that is used in the case of the “Throne of Solomon” in the Ferghana Valley. There is no doubt that this expression bears a similar signification at Khotan, that is to say a Mecca for the non-Arabs. A wandering qalandar dervish, Dhâlilî performed the circumambulation (tawâf) at this place and stayed 25 ten days there, performing devotions and contemplation. Ja‘far Sâdiq, imam and spiritual master, member of Sufi order I came suddenly to circumambulate your holy tomb. (…) From the country of Yarkand, I made one hundred thousand and thousand wishes, I came without doubt saying “let do the hajj at the Mecca of the 26 Persians”.

In the nineteenth century, Mûsâ Sayramî reports that along with the sanctuary of the Ashâb al-Kahf at Turfan, the mausoleum of Ja‘far Sâdiq is equated to that of 27 the Ka‘ba at Mecca by the Muslim population. Moreover, Sayramî makes a quite interesting analysis about the identity of the mausoleum. He denies the coming at Khotan of the famous Shi‘i Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq and considers the legend a forgery. His hypothesis is that a very devout Sunni Sufi shaykh called Ja‘far and regarded as a great religious guide by the local community became so renowned as to be com23

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The manuscript of this hagiography studied by Grenard is preserved in the library of the Institut de France (Paris). It was published in an abridged form by Jules-Léon Dutreuil de Rhins and Fernand Grenard, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie (Paris: E. Leroux, 1897-98), vol. 3, pp. 27-31 Mirza Muhammad Haidar Dughlat, Tarikh-i-Rashidi, translated by Ney Elias Could (Delhi: reprinted Renaissance Publishing House, 1986), p. 298 Zälili Divani, edited by Imin Tursun (Beijing: Millätlär Näshriyati, 1985), pp. 234-236, 640. “Imam ü murshidi ähli tariqät Jä’färi Sadiq, Mubaräk märqädini tävaf etärgä nagähan käldim (…) Biladi Yarkändin yüz tümän ming arzu äyläb, Äjäming Mäkkäsini häj qilay däb beguman keldim.” Zälili Divani, p. 234. Sayramî, Tarikhi Hämidi, p. 691.

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pared with the famous Ja‘far Sâdiq. Sayrâmî adds that this Ja‘far was consequently 28 honoured as a “second Ja‘far” (Ja‘far-i thânî”) and his grave highly venerated. Nowadays, the mausoleum of Ja‘far Sâdiq, well known also under the name of the “Great Mazar of Niyä” (Niyä Chong Mazar), a neighbouring oasis, is visited by thousands of pilgrims coming from everywhere in the Xinjiang, as well as from remote provinces of Northern China such as Gansu, Ningxia and Qinghai. The shrine is particularly visited during its annual festival, from the end of August to the end of October. According to the local tradition reported by two Uyghur writers, a 29 threefold pilgrimage to this tomb is considered an equivalent to the hajj.

Ka‘ba of the Heart, Ka‘ba of the Sufis The “Ka‘ba of the heart” is a well known concept in Sufism and the reference to the Ka‘ba in Muslim mysticism is very widespread. In the Kashf al-Mahjûb, the earliest Persian-language treatise on Sufism, the author al-Hujwirî (d. 1063 or 1071) writes that this concept is ancient and was formulated by Abû Muhammad ‘Abd Allâh Muhammad b. al-Fadl al-Balkhî at Samarkand. The heart is the seat of knowledge or God and is most venerable than the Ka‘ba, to which men turn in devotion. Men are ever looking to30 wards the Ka‘ba, but God is ever looking towards the hearts.

The entire Sufi tradition has pointed then to the heart which, once awakened by deep devotions and spiritual exercises, may replace the Ka‘ba. The Persian Sufi 31 ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî writes that “One heart is better than a thousand Ka‘bas”, and the seventeenth-century Turkish poet Derun Abdal states that “The Ka‘ba of 32 the believers is the house of the heart”. Moreover, Abû al-Hasan Kharaqânî (d. 1034) states that “he would himself be the Ka‘ba around which the devoted would

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Mullâ Mûsâ b. Mullâ Mûsâ Sayrâmî, Târîkh-i Aminiyya (Kazan: Madrasa-i ‘Ulûm, 1905), p. 358; Sayrâmî, Tarikhi Hämidi, pp. 643-644. “Imam Jä’firi Sadiq mazirini üch qätim tavap qilghanliq Mäkkädiki Kä‘ibini tavap qilghanliq bilän baravär”: Abduqadir Tursun and Eziz Atavullah Sartekin, “Khotän Mädäniyät Yadikarliqliri,” in Abdullah Sulayman, ed., Dunyada birla Khotän Bar (Ürümchi: Shinjang Khälq Näshriyati, 2003), vol. 2, pp. 79-80. Al-Hujwirî, Kashf al-Mahjûb, edited by R. A. Nicholson (London: Luzac and Company LTD, 1976), p. 141. About the symbol of the Ka‘ba in Sufism, see Fritz Meier, “The Mystery of the Ka‘aba: Symbol and reality in Islamic Mysticism,” first published in 1944, reedited in Joseph Campbell, ed., The Mysteries. Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), vol. 2, pp. 149-168. Az hazârân Ka‘ba yak dil bahtarast ; quoted by the Turkish writer Rıza Tevfik in Abdullah Uçman, ed., Rıza Tevfik’in Tekke ve Halk Edebiyatı ile İlgili Makaleler (Istanbul: Millî Eğitim Bak., 2001), p. 249. Mü’minin Kâ’besi gönül evidir, quoted in Abdülbaki Gölpınarlı, Alevî-Bektaşî Nefesleri (Istanbul: Remzi K., 1963), p. 36.

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circumambulate”. Similarly, the eighteenth-century Turkish poetess Güzide Ana writes: “Circumambulating the Ka‘ba of the heart / In only one day, we are hâjjî 34 one hundred thousand times”. Mansûr al-Hallâj (d. 922) considered that the Ka‘ba as a physical artefact could be equated with the human corpse, and, then, that its symbol ought to be spiritually destroyed. Otherwise expressed, the mental image of the Ka‘ba have to be eradicated by the Sufi who search how to go beyond the ex35 ternal aspect of the Meccan temple in order to perform a spiritual hajj only. However, in addition to the cult of an idealised Ka‘ba hidden in their heart, Sufis embraced the idea of building their own Ka‘ba. We know that members of certain, usually antinomian Sufi trends decided to construct their own physical Ka‘ba distinct from that located at Mecca. It is known, for instance, that Hallâj, after returning from Mecca, built a small Ka‘ba at Baghdad in his private oratory 36 and circumabulated it with other believers. Hallâj is well renowned in Central Asia and frequently quoted in the poetry of Ahmad Yasawî, one of the great Sufi poets of the region. The views of the Sufi of Baghdad have certainly inspired the mystical milieu, as is demonstrated below. Similarly, in fifteenth-century Anatolia, the group of Abdal Sufis directed by Otmân Baba used every year at the time of Kurban Bayram, or the festival of the sacrifice, to perform a pilgrimage known as the “greater hajj” (hajj-i akbar) at one of its mother lodges, namely at Seyyid Ghazî in Central Anatolia. In the eyes of these dervishes, this pilgrimage might replace 37 the pilgrimage to Mecca. Moreover, the Turkish Bektashi Sufis, close to the Abdal movement, claim that their geographical origin is Khurasan in Eastern Iran, a very important region in the history of Sufism, and that it is towards this region alone that they must travel for pilgrimage: “The bigot goes to Mecca, but the dervish goes to Khurasan” (yobaz Mekke’ye derviş Horasan’a). Although mention of Khurasan implies here that a substitute pilgrimage to Mecca exists in this area, or at least in the dreams of the dervishes, such a journey would also have led in the correct direction, that is to say towards the qibla. As it will be seen below, there is a major Sufi sanctuary in Central Asia that was depicted as a “second qibla.” The Sufi view about the link between the Ka‘ba and the qibla is well explained by al-Hujwirî:

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Quoted by Terry Graham, “Abû Sa‘îd ibn Abî’l-Khayr and the School of Khurâsân,” in Leonard Lewisohn, ed., Classical Persian Sufism (London: Kaniqah Nimatullahi Publications, 1993), p. 94. Gönül kabesini tavaf ederler / Günde yüz bin kerre hacımız bizim; İsmail Özmen, Alevi-Bektaş Şiirleri Antolojisiı (Ankara: Saypa Yayın Dağıtım, 1995), p. 220. Louis Massignon, La Passion de Hallâj, martyr mystique de l’islam (Paris: Gallimard, 1975), vol. 1, pp. 589-590, 689; vol. 3, p. 201. L. Massignon, La Passion de Hallâj, vol. 1, p. 67, 670 ; Stéphane Ruspoli, Le Message de Hallâj l’expatrié (Paris: Cerf, 2005), pp. 31-32 and Hallâj’ poetry, p. 227. Ahmed Yaşar Ocak, Kalenderiler. XIV-XVII. yüzyïllar (Ankara: TTK, 1992), pp. 175-176.

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“The outward qibla being the Ka‘ba and the inward qibla being the Throne of God 38 by which is meant the mystery of divine contemplation.”

From the “Ka‘ba of Khurasan” to the “Ka‘ba of Turkestan” As indicated above, the Iranian region of Khurasan is well known as a historical cradle of Muslim Gnosticism and Sufism. It was especially the home of the Karramiyya trend, of several Sufi movements and of the Malâmatiyya. It is also in the northern part of Khurasan, at Bayram Ali, near the ancient city of Merv, that Yûsuf Hamadânî (d. 1140), the first in the Khwâjagân lineage which gave birth to the Naqshbandiyya and Yasawiyya Sufi orders, died and was buried. According to the Persian poet Hakîm Sanâ’î, the khânaqâh of Hamadânî at Bayram Ali was con39 sidered the “Ka‘ba of Khurasan” (Ka‘ba-yi Khurâsân). After the death of Hamadânî, his grave became the focus of pilgrims: and it has remained until the present day a site of devotion for Sufis and non-Sufis alike. Nowadays, according to the 40 locals, two pilgrimages to Hamadânî’s tomb equal a single journey to Mecca. I was told in 1996 by an old Naqshbandî shaykh at Andijan (Uzbekistan) that, on his road to Mecca, he stopped at Mary (Merv) to visit and honour Hamadânî’s mausoleum. Besides, Hamadânî is known in contemporary popular literature as the 41 “Great Sufi Master” (Ulu Pir). In the sixteenth century, the mausoleum of Ahmad Yasawî (d. 1166-1167), one of the most renowned disciples of Yûsuf Hamadânî and the eponym of the Yasawiyya Sufi lineage, was in turn depicted as a Ka‘ba. As is the case with Hamadânî, the identification of a great Sufi shaykh’s grave with the Ka‘ba means that, in the eyes of Sufis, the place has become a centre for spiritual guidance. Ahmad Yasawî is a totemic figure in Turkic Sufi tradition, enjoying particular repute among the nomads of the Kazakh steppe. His impressive mausoleum, built by Tamerlane at an isolated location in the steppe known later as either Hadrat (Venerable) or Turkistan, has become over time one of the most visited shrines in Central Asia, and it continues to attract visitors to this day. For many people, pilgrimage to the Ka‘ba of Turkistan evidently might serve as a substitute for pilgrimage to Mecca. Writing in the sixteenth century, the historian Fadl Allâh b. Ruzbihân Khunjî Isfahânî de38 39

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al-Hujwîrî, Kashf al-Mahjûb, p. 300. Devletşâh Tezkiresi, quoted in Fuad Köprülü, Türk Edebiyatında İlk Mutasavvıflar, 1st ed. 1919 (2nd ed., Ankara: Ankara Üniversitesi Basımevi, 1966), p. 54. See also Necdet Tosun, ed., Hâce Yûsuf-i Hemedânî, Hayat Nedir (Rutbetü’l-hayat) (Istanbul: İnsan Y., 1998), pp. 12, 19. David Tyson, “Shrine Pilgrimage in Turkmenistan as a Means to Understand Islam Among The Turkmen,” Central Asia Monitor 1 (1997), p. 26. Siegrid Kleinmichel, Halpa in Choresm und Atin Ayi im Ferghanatal. Zur Geschichte des Lesens in Usbekistan (Berlin: Das Arabische Buch, ANOR 4, 2001), vol. 1, pp. 59-60. About the popular aspects of the cult of Hamadânî, see G. P. Snesarev, Khorezmskie Legendy (Moscow : Izdatel’stvo Nauka, 1983), pp. 111-124.

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scribed the mausoleum of Ahmad Yasawî as a “Ka‘ba for the ascetics”; he also described it as a “Holy House” (Bayt al-muqaddas), here employing a term which conventionally refers to the al-Aqsa Mosque at Jerusalem, the third holiest place in 42 Islam after Mecca and Medina. Isfahânî adds that “this holy mausoleum was similar to a Ka‘ba in Turkestan” (ân mazâr-i mutabarrak bi musâba-yi Ka‘ba-yi 43 Turkestân ), that is in the region of Central Asia. An article about the city of Turkistan in the Tatar journal Shûrâ from 1916 indicates that people continued, three centuries after Isfahânî, to regard the shrine of 44 Ahmad Yasawî as a “second qibla (ikinji qibla).” The author of the article quotes the following verse attributed to Ahmad Yasawî: “Muhammad is at Medina and Khwâja Ahmad at Turkistan” (Medîne’de Muhammad, Türkistân’da Khwâja Ahmad). Thus, the eponym of the Yasawî order is presented as the ‘Muhammad’ of Central Asia. This verse, undated, is very popular among the population of Central Asia, and frequently quoted in post-Soviet Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan and even Turk45 menistan. Another article in Shûrâ entitled “Khalvat” – the word in this context denoting the particular pilgrimage which is performed at the grave of Ahmad Yasawî – details the numerous rituals executed there. Due to the intense commercial and devotional activities observable during the khalvat, the writer compares the city of Turkistan with Mecca during the month of dhû’l-hijja, that is to say at the 46 hajj period. Although the shrine has remained a “Ka‘ba for the ascetics”, i.e. a Ka‘ba of the heart, pilgrimage to the shrine has come, over the Soviet period and down to the present day, to function as a substitution for pilgrimage to the temple of Mecca. People in present-day Kazakhstan hold that a double visit to the tomb of 47 Yasawî is as efficacious as a single hajj to Mecca. The shrine is also considered as 48 a ‘Ka‘ba’ and a “little Mecca”. 42 43 44 45

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Michele Bernardini, “A propos de Fazlallah b. Ruzbehan Khonji Esfahani et du mausolée d’Ahmad Yasavi,” Cahiers d’Asie centrale 3-4 (1997), p. 282. M. Bernardini, “A propos de Fazlallah b. Ruzbehan Khonji Esfahani et du mausolée d’Ahmad Yasavi,” p. 287. Tûrkistânlîlar qashinda bu qabr, bîk muqaddas hatta ikinji qibla dîyûrge bârdî. Chûnkî namâz qiblasî “Ka‘ba” bûlsa, hame kîrak narselarni sûrâw qiblasi Khwâja Ahmad “qabrî” dir; “Tûrkistân,” Shûrâ 4 (1916), pp. 108-109. See ill. 4. See the introduction by Yusuf Azmun to the Divan-i Hikmet (Istanbul: Tek-Esin, 1994), p. V). Besides, the first edition after 1991 of the Hikmat in Turkmenistan was entitled “Medine’de Muhammad, Türkistan’da Khvaja Ahmad,” see Gurbandurdi Geldiyev, “Türkmenistan’da Hoca Ahmed,” in Ahmed-i Yesevî. Hayatı, Eserleri, Fikirleri, Tesirleri (Istanbul: Seha N., 1996), pp. 548, 565. T., “Khalvat”, Shûrâ 5 (1914), p. 146. Ashirbeg Muminov, “Veneration of Holy Sites of the Mid-Sïrdar’ya Valley: Continuity and Transformation,” in M. Kemper, A. von Kügelgen, D. Yermakov, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the 20th Centuries. Vol. 1 (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 1996), p. 365. Bruce Privratsky, Muslim Turkistan, Kazak Religion and Collective Memory (Rich-

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Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband and the Black Stone Alongside Ahmad Yasawî, the other major great figure of Sufism in Central Asia is Bahâ al-Dîn Naqshband (d. 1389), eponym of the Naqshbandî order which has over time absorbed the Yasawiyya and became the most powerful Sufi lineage in the whole of Asia, from Turkey to China and Indonesia. The tomb of Bahâ’ al-Dîn, located in the vicinity of Bukhara, at a place popularly known as Qasr-i ‘Ârifân (nowadays Bavuddin), was the fountainhead of the order and another major pilgrimage destination in Central Asia, drawing thousands from areas as far as India 49 and China. According to the Hungarian traveller Arminius Vambery in 1863, Bahâ’ al-Dîn was venerated as “the national saint of Turkestan [and] as a second 50 Mohammed” by the pilgrims. The main ritual performed at his mausoleum was to circumambulate his four-cornered grave and to touch or kiss a sacred black stone engraved in one of its corner. All these practices echo those of the obligatory hajj pilgrimage at Mecca, when the pilgrims, while circumambulating the Ka‘ba, touch and kiss an irregular black oval placed at the North-east corner of the building, that is the famous “black stone” (al-hajar al-aswad). Two decades before Vambery’s arrival at Bukhara, the Russian traveller Nicolai Khanikoff reported in 1841-42 that this black stone was called “Sanghi-Murad”, i.e. “stone of desire” (sang-i murâd) by the Bukharans. It was “fixed on one of the sides of the mausoleum, and those who visit the shrine reckon it a sacred duty to rub their foreheads against that stone, and to approach with their faces and beards to it. The prevalence and favour of this devout practice can be traced on the tomb by the external marks which have been left 51 behind.” Vambery also mentions the presence of the stone of desire “which has been tolerably ground away and made smooth by the numerous foreheads of pious pilgrims that have been rubbed upon it”, and of a “broom that served a long time to 52 sweep out the sanctuary in Mecca.” In addition to the devotions toward Bahâ’ alDîn, the act of touching and kissing the stone was supposed to “cure and to prevent 53 all maladies of the head.” Two famous modernist thinkers, the Tatar Muhammad Zâhir Bîgî (1870-1902) and the Turkestani ‘Abd al-Ra’ûf Fitrat (1886-1847) visited Bahâ’ al-Dîn’s shrine at

49 50 51 52 53

mond-Surrey: Curzon, 2001), p. 67; R. M. Mustafina, Predstavleniya kul’ty, obryady u Kazakhov (Alma Ata: Kazak Universiteti, 1992), p. 88. Thierry Zarcone, “Le Culte de Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband à Bukhara (Uzbekistan),” Journal of Turkish Studies 19 (1995), pp. 231-244 and the contribution of Hamid Algar in this volume. See ill. 5 and 6. Arminius Vambery, Travels in Central Asia (London: John Murray, 1864), p. 195. Nicolaj Khanikoff, Bokhara: its Amir and its People (London: James Madden, 1845), p. 121. Vambery, Travels in Central Asia, pp. 195-196. Eugene Schuyler, Turkistan. Notes of a Journey in Russian Turkistan, Khokand, Bukhara, and Kuldja (London: Sampson Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1876), vol. 2, pp. 113-114.

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the turn of the twentieth century. They each denounced the devotions which people performed in front of the saint’s tomb as superstitions which were contrary to the law of Islam. Surprisingly, however, neither traveller mentioned the stone of desire. Fitrat instead simply wrote that the climax of the pilgrimage is the touching and kissing of a wooden banner (‘alam) which he dismissively noted as a “sign that 54 there is a saintly tomb nearby” (‘alâmat-i qabr-i awliyâ’). A vehement critic of saintly cults, Bîgî meanwhile wrote that such acts as the kissing of the holy banner should be performed only “toward God and not toward the tomb of a man, whatever the greatness of this man” (Insân ne kadar büyük olur ise de, qabrî qible55 i du‘â olâmâz). However, the Russian historian V. A. Gordlevskii confirms that the stone was still existing in 1929 when he visited the mausoleum of Bahâ’ al-Dîn. He writes that the shape of the stone fitted the arms, face and beard of the pilgrim 56 who came for devotions. Gordlevskii further relates the belief among Muslims that a two- or threefold pilgrimage to the grave of the saintly Bahâ’ al-Dîn equated 57 to a single pilgrimage to Mecca. This belief evidently continued through the Soviet period, despite the prohibition of tomb veneration and the circulation of Marxist anti-religious propaganda: a French traveller in 1985, for instance, was told by 58 the locals at the shrine that “three visits to it replace a pilgrimage to Mecca”. The belief that Bahâ’ al-Dîn is a “second Muhammad” and that a threefold pilgrimage to his tomb may replace one pilgrimage to Mecca is strengthened by a legend about the origin of the stone of desire. This legend may only have emerged in the second part of the twentieth century, since it does not appear in the classic ha59 giographies of Bahâ’ al-Dîn. From this legend, we learn that when sleeping at night in the Qizil Qum desert, on his way from Mecca to Bukhara, Bahâ’ al-Dîn 54 55 56

57 58 59

Bayânât-i sayyah-i hindî (Istanbul: Matba‘a-yi Islâmiyya, 1911-12), p. 14. Mâverâ' al-Nahr'da Seyâhat (Kazan: Tipo-Litografiya I. V. Ermolaevoy, 1908), p. 86. “Bakha-ud-din Nakshbend Bukharskii (k voprosu o nasloeniiakh v Islame),” in Sergeiu Fedorovichu Ol'denburgu (Leningrad: Akademiya Nauk SSSR, 1934), footnote 2 p. 149. The best description of the grave of the saint and of the stone is by the French archeologist Joseph Castagné: “Le Culte des lieux saints de l’islam au Turkestan,” L’Ethnographie 46 (1951), pp. 91-92. “U Musulman Bakha-ud-Din okruzhen oreojom svyatesti, i dvukratnoe ili troekratnoe poseshchenie mogily ego ravniaetsia palomnichestvu v Mekku,” V. Gordlevskii, “Bakha-ud-din Nakshbend Bukharskii,” p. 147. Pierre Julien, “In Quest of the Holiest Place in Central Asia,” Central Asian Survey 4:1 (1985), p. 116. Hamid Algar agrees with me on this question. The hagiographies consulted are: Salâhuddin b. Mübârek el-Buhârî. Enîsü’t-Tâlibîn ve Uddetü’s-Sâlikîn. Makamât-ı Muhammed Bahaüddin Nakşibend, translated from the Persian by Süleyman İzzî (Istanbul: Buhara Y., 1983); Risâle-i Behâiyye. Tarîkat-ı Nakşibendiyye Prensipleri, translated from the Persian by Rahmi Serin (Istanbul: Pamuk Y., 1994); Abdulhasan Muhammad Boqir Bin Muhammad Ali, “Bahouddin Naqshband Maqomotlaridan,” in Durdona. Mir Kulol va Shohi Naqshband Maqomotlaridan, translated from the Persian by S. Salim Bukhori and I. Subhoni (Tashkent: Sharq N., 1993).

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saw the Prophet Abraham in a dream. Abraham descended from a white cloud and slowly approached Bahâ’ al-Dîn. As he approached, Abraham carried in one hand a piece of the black stone of the Ka‘ba; seeing this, Bahâ’ al-Dîn was illuminated in his heart. Abraham then asked Bahâ’ al-Dîn what he had brought from his pilgrimage to the Ka‘ba. Bahâ’ al-Dîn said that he brought sacred water, a holy rosary and a stick made of mulberry. Abraham told then Bahâ’ al-Dîn to take with him the black stone and to put it upon the grave of his mother at Qasr-i ‘Ârifân. Bahâ’ alDîn executed the order and the stone suddenly resembled the black stone enclosed at the Ka‘ba. Finally, the stone was fixed in the northern side of the tomb of the 60 saint and then called “stone of the desire” by the locals. In 1991, after the collapse of the USSR, the souvenir of the famous stone engraved in the mausoleum of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband was not forgotten; it appears in an article published in the Uzbek newspaper Özbekiston Ovosi (The Voice of Uzbekistan, 26 November 1991) along with a photograph of pilgrims performing the circumambulations around the saint’ tomb. The photograph is entitled “The black stone” and not the “stone of desire.” For many pilgrims, circumambulation around the tomb of Bahâ’ al-Dîn’ is redolent of tawâf around the Ka‘ba, since in both cases the believer may touch and kiss the sacred black stone on one side of the building. Thus, the sanctuary of the eponym of the Naqshbandiyya is clearly a copy of the Meccan sanctuary. The practice of circumambulating the tomb and of touching and kissing the holy stone was revived after the end of the USSR in 1991, even though the Spiritual Board of Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan put a poster at the entrance of the shrine telling pilgrims 61 that such practices were contrary to Islam, and indeed were later forbidden. After 2000, the policy against these practices was strengthened and a fence was erected around the four-cornered grave of Bahâ’ al-Dîn to make the touching and kissing the grave and the stone physically impossible. Moreover, the black stone was 62 whitewashed, thus disappearnning from the eyes of the pilgrims. This policy is not inspired by any Wahhabi or Salafi trend, since it came from the Spiritual Board which is under the supervision of the Uzbek government. On the contrary, it results from the implementation of an official campaign against religious superstitions and ignorance. There are at least two other shrines in Central Asia where a piece of the black stone from the Ka‘ba is supposedly preserved. The first shrine, named the Mazâr of Khwâja Âb-i Garm, near Dushanbe, is one of the major sanctuaries of Tajikistan. 60

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There are two sources for this legend: the first one is a tourist leaflet I bought at the shrine in 1993: Bähavuddin Naqshbandning me'mari abidäsi (Tashkent: Uzbektourism, 1993); the second is a text published in an Uzbek online forum in 2009 (forum.ziyouz. com). Personal observations in 1994 and 1995-96. About the content of this poster, see Th. Zarcone, “Le Culte de Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband à Bukhara (Uzbekistan),” pp. 242-243. Personal observations in October 2008.

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According to legend, the place where the shrine stands was visited by Abû Talha, a comrade-in-arms of the Prophet Muhammad, and by the Prophet himself. A slab of black stone resembling that of the Ka‘ba was subsequently erected upon an earthen 63 mound at the site of the visitation. The second such shrine is the tomb of AlyamBua, in the Valley of Ferghana (Uzbekistan), which was presented with a piece of 64 the black stone by some pilgrims returning from Mecca. The black stone of the Ka‘ba is without any doubt one of the most suggestive symbols to remind visitors of the sanctity of Mecca, and there are probably many other sanctuaries in the rest of the Muslim world similarly claiming to possess fragments of it.

Imitations of the Ka‘ba In the twelfth century, both the Mubayyidhî trend (people in white raiment) – a Shi‘i movement responsible for many campaigns to convert the non-Muslims of Asia – and the Yasawî brotherhood were particularly fascinated by the Ka‘ba, and 65 by the idea that this edifice also had its place in the heart of Asia. This attests to how prominent a role the symbol of the Ka‘ba played in their respective religious activities. Some examples will make the point clearer. Hagiographies report, for instance, that during the Friday prayer Ahmad Yasawî was often miraculously present at two places, namely the mosque of his native city of Yasi in Turkistan and at the Ka‘ba; on a further occasion, Ahmad Yasawî is supposed to have traveled to 66 the Ka‘ba riding a cloud. Another group of narratives relate the miracles performed by the Mubayyidhî leaders (bâb) and the Yasawî Sufis, the most astounding of which was to bring the Ka‘ba from Mecca to Central Asia. This miracle was executed generally to impress the infidels or the newly converted. In the eighth century, for instance, the Mubayyidhî figure Ishâq Bâb converted a Christian king to Islam, and to mark the occasion he built at Karghalik (in the region of Kashgar) a 67 mosque resembling the Ka‘ba. 63 64 65

66

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According to S. M. Demidov in 1988, Legendy i Pravda o “sviatykh” mestakh, pp. 51, 56. S. Demidov, Legendy, p. 51. On the Mubayyidhî trend and its founder Abû Muslim see W. Barthold, Turkestan Down to the Mongol Invasion, 1928 (reprinted Taipei: Southern Material Center, n.d.), pp. 195-200. The Mubayyidhî Arslan Bâb was the spiritual master of Ahmad Yasawî: for this link see Ashirbeg Muminov, “Novye Napravleniia v izuchenni istorii bratstva Jasaviia,” Obshchestvennye nauki v Uzbekistane 11-12 (1993), pp. 34-38. Safi ad-din Oryn Qoylaqy, Nasab-Nama, edited by Ashirbek Muminov Qurbanuly and Zhandarbekov Zikiriya Zamankhanuly (Turkistan: Qazaq-Turik Khalyqaralyq Turkistan Universiteti, 1992), p. 29; Mevlânâ Safiyyü’d-dîn, Neseb-Nâme Tercümesi, edited by Kemal Eraslan (Istanbul: Yesevi Y., 1996), p. 50. Ashirbek Muminov, “Die Erzählung eines Qožas über die Islamisierung der Länder, die dem Kokander Khanat unterstehen”, in A. von Kügelgen, A. Muminov, M. Kemper, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia. Vol. 3 (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 2000), pp. 409, 425.

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According to a popular hagiography of Ahmad Yasawî written at the beginning of the fourteenth century, Yasawî, having decided to go for the hajj in the company of many of his followers, reached the city of Ghijduwân in Transoxiana (today in Uzbekistan). There, he was welcomed by ‘Abd al-Khâliq Ghijduwânî, his spiritual master, who brought the Ka‘ba from Mecca to Ghijduvan in order to permit Yasawî and the other Sufi shaykhs to perform the rite of tawâf around it in 68 Central Asia. This miraculous action was therefore imitated by certain further great figures of the Yasawî order. One such figure was Hubbî Khwâja b. Hakîm Atâ (d. 1183), the major disciple of Ahmad Yasawî. Having noted that his father was tormented by the idea of the pilgrimage to Mecca, Hubbî Khwâja told him that it would be better to bring the Ka‘ba to them. Hubbî Khwâja added that the Ka‘ba would come by itself if the believer developed a strong belief in the “accomplished Sufis” (îrân – Turkish eren), and if they served them. Then, the day after, Hubbî Khwâja indeed brought the Ka‘ba from Mecca to the mosque of the city of Baqirghan, in Khwârazm. The “accomplished Sufis” of the Ka‘ba then circumambulated Hubbî Khwâja and stood upon the mihrâb of the mosque. In turn, Hubbî Khwâja circumambulated them. Finally, the population of Baqirghan came to the mosque and the khânaqâh, and circumambulated the “wise people” and Hubbî Khwâja, before becoming followers of the 69 latter. In the evening, the Ka‘ba and the “accomplished Sufis” disappeared. The fascination with the Ka‘ba spread into the northern parts of Central Asia and even among the Tatars of Southern Siberia. From several genealogical documents, we know that Islam was introduced into the region by Mubayyidhî bâb and Yasawî shaykhs. For instance, pilgrimage to a mausoleum (âstâna) attributed to Hakîm Atâ in the city of Baishe (Tyumen oblast’) is regarded as a pilgrimage of substitution in lieu of Mecca: “If you perform the tawâf at Hakîm Atâ”, it is noted, in a manuscript dated 1717-18, “it has the same quality as if performed at Mecca”. This historical fact is confirmed by the oral tradition telling that seven pilgrimages to this tomb are 70 equivalent to the hajj. Besides, tawâf is still performed around the grave. The last example of an imitation of the Ka‘ba is very contemporary. It concerns the descendants of the Mubayyidhî ‘Abd al-Jalîl Bâb (or Khurâsân Atâ), brother of Ishâq Bâb and reputed ancestor of the Khwâjas of Khurasan, whose grave is loc68 69

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This Persian text is published by Necdet Tosun, “Ahmed Yesevî’nin Menâkıbı,” İLAM Araştırma Dergisi 3:1 (February-July 1998), p. 77. Hakîm Atâ Risâlasi - Legenda pro Hakim’-Ata, edited by K. G. Zaleman’ (Saint Petersburg: Impertorskoi Akademii Nauk’, 1898), p. 113. See also F. Köprülü, Türk Edebiyatında İlk Mutasavvıflar, pp. 76-77 and Abdurrahman Güzel, Bakırgan Kitabı (Ankara: Öncü Kitap, 2007), pp. 63-64. A. G. Seleznev, I. A. Selezneva, I. V. Belich, Kult’ svyatykh v sibirskom islame: spetsifika universal’nogo (Moscow: Izdatel’skii Dom Mardzhani, 2009), pp. 54-57; Alfrid Bustanov, “Sufiiskie legendy ob islamizatsii Sibiri,” Tiurkologicheskii Sbornik (forthcoming). I would like to thank here Alfrid Bustanov for providing me with some of his articles on this topic.

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ated in the Kazakh steppe. According to an oral legend, Husayn Khwâja, son of Khurâsân Atâ, brought the Ka‘ba from Mecca to the city of Ozgent (located nowadays in the district of Zhana Qorghan, north of the city of Turkistan) and then re71 turned it to Mecca. Centuries later, in 1994, the elders of the Khurasan Khwâja’s clan re-erected a building called the Ka‘ba, not far from the ruins of the ancient city of Ozgent (“Bâb al-Ka‘ba” – “Door of the Ka‘ba” is written upon the door of the edifice). This new Ka‘ba is situated less than 200 m from the grave of Khurasan Bâb, a small shrine presently under the care of the saint’s twelfth-generation descendents who live in the precincts. A perfect – if somewhat scaled-down – imitation of the Meccan Ka‘ba, the edifice comprises four sides covered with black material hanging down, and leaving the roof bare. The fascination with the Ka‘ba which emerged among twelfth-century Mubayyidhî and Yasawî circles has persisted through the centuries to the present, being cultivated both in the oral tradition and by hagiographers.

Conclusion To conclude, it seems that there are two major reasons for the proliferation in Central Asia of sanctuaries accorded the name of “second Mecca”, “Mecca of the Persians” and “second Ka‘ba”. The first of these is the desire by non-Arabs (generically depicted as Persians/‘Ajam) living far from the Hijaz to identify a local Mecca substitute towards which they may perform a version of the hajj, and thus fulfil one of the five compulsory duties of Islam (fard). The second is the desire to build impressive sanctuaries equivalent or comparable to that of Mecca, with which to honour particular exceptional Central Asian spiritual figures. Following the work of Catherine Mayeur-Jaouen, we of course know that such substitutes for Mecca exist in the rest of the Muslim world (in Bulgaria and in Northern Africa for example), and that around the world pilgrimages to saintly tombs all function more or less as 72 substitute pilgrimages in lieu of the hajj. But if the phenomenon is universal in the Muslim world, Central Asia is nevertheless unusual in the sheer number of Meccas or Ka‘bas of substitution which we find located there. These sanctuaries are, as shown above, the tombs or resting-places either of prominent figures of the Quran and the Muslim tradition (Solomon, the ‘People of the Cavern’, Ja‘far Sâdiq), 71

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Oral communication from the representatives of the Khurasan Khwâja’s clan, Khurasan Ata, April 1996. See also Ashirbek Muminov, “Die Qožas arabische Genealogien in Kasachstan,” in A. von Kügelgen, M. Kemper, A. J. Frank, eds., Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the 18th to the Early 20th Centuries. Vol. 2 (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz, 1998), pp. 196-197. See ill. 7. Catherine Mayeur-Jaouen, “Tombeau, mosquée et zâwiya : la polarité des lieux saints musulmans », in André Vauchez, ed., Lieux sacrés, lieux de culte, sanctuaires. Approches terminologiques, méthodologiques, historiques et monographiques (Rome : Ecole Française de Rome, 2000), p. 140-141.

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or of major representatives of Sufism (Yûsuf Hamadanî, Ahmad Yasawî, Ahmad Bakirghânî, Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband). Two of these figures (Ahmad Yasawî and Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband) are personalities depicted as similar to that of the Prophet Muhammad in Medina, that is to say as instances of a “second Muhammad,” and their mausoleums came over time to function as local substitutes for the tomb of the Prophet of Islam. We know for instance that the tomb of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband acquired an international aura, functioning as a destination for pilgrims from the Tatar-Ural area, from India and even from China. It is also of interest to note that certain differences exist between these sanctuaries in terms of the specific pilgrimage rituals which are observed there. Whereas such practices as circumambulation and animal sacrifice are common to almost all saintly tombs, other traditions may be specific to particular locations. At shrines with a strong association with the temple of Mecca, there is often a broom present with which to clean the Ka‘ba, as well as a tradition that the Zamzam well is located nearby: by means of such symbols, the identification of a sanctuary with the temple of Mecca may be strengthened. But it is the introduction of the black stone – or a piece of it – that most facilitates a sense of association with Mecca, by enabling the act of circumambulation around an edifice similar to the Ka‘ba. Of course, at a shrine such as the tomb of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband, the shrine exercises a doubly numinous function, marking also as it does a hallowed burial place. In such a case, however, it is the shrine’s capacity as embodiment of the Ka‘ba that seems to predominate: according to pilgrimage ritual, it is the black stone only – and not the tomb of the saint – which should be kissed, as at Mecca. The climax of such identification is thus reached when a full copy of the Ka‘ba is built: in the contemporary world at least an exceptional practice, instanced only in the Kazakh steppe near the shrine of Khurâsân Atâ. Finally, several Sufis have found the ziyârat to certain exceptional tombs to be superior to the hajj insofar as, due to the charisma and spirituality of the saint buried there, these tombs constituted manifestations of an inner, “real” Ka‘ba.

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Sulayman, Abdullah, ed. Dunyada birla Khotän Bar. Ürümchi: Shinjang Khälq Näshriyati, 2003, vol. 2, pp. 1-100. Tyson, David. “Shrine Pilgrimage in Turkmenistan as a Means to Understand Islam Among The Turkmen.” Central Asia Monitor 1 (1997): pp. 15-32. Uçman, Abdullah. Rıza Tevfik’in Tekke ve Halk Edebiyatı İle İlgili Makaleler. Istanbul: Millî Eğitim Bak., 2001. Zarcone, Thierry. “Le Culte de Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband à Bukhara (Uzbekistan).” Journal of Turkish Studies 19 (1995): pp. 231-244. Zarcone, Thierry. “Un Lieu saint atypique: le Trône de Salomon (Takht-i Sulaymân à Osh (Kirghizistan).” In Jean-Louis Bacqué-Grammont, and Jean-Marie Durand, eds. L’Image de Salomon, sources et postérités. Paris-Louvain: Peeters, 2008, pp. 209-232. Zarcone, Thierry. “Atypical Mausoleum: the Case of the Solomon Throne (Kirghizistan), qadamgâh, Demons-cult and itinerary-Pilgrimage.” In Yasushi Shinmen, Minoru Sawada, and Edward Waite, eds. Saint-Cult in Ferghana and in Xinjiang (forthcoming).

Ill. 1: Throne of Solomon, 1878

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Ill. 2: Shrine of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq

Ill. 3: Shrine of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq

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Ill. 4: Shrine of Khoja Ahmad Yasawî, Kazakhstan, 1880

Ill. 5: Black stone of Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband’s shrine, Bukhara, 1996

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Ill. 6: Black stone whitewashed, Bukhara, 2008

Ill. 7: Imitation of the Ka‘ba at Khurasan Ata, Kazakhstan

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Pilgrimage to Sacred Places in the Taklamakan Desert: Shrines of Imams in Khotan Prefecture

Minoru Sawada It is said that there are more than two thousand mazars in the prefecture (diqu in Chinese, wilayät in Uyghur) of Khotan, a province consisting of seven counties (xian, nahiyä) in the region of Xinjiang. Among these mazars twenty are said to be 1 visited by pilgrims across the counties, or from outside the Khotan prefecture. In this report, I examine from an historical and ethnographic perspective those largescale mazars which have traditionally attracted Muslims from far afield.

Descriptions in Histories of Eastern Turkestan Several pre-modern Islamicate histories offer information about the sacred places in Khotan. We shall here consider three of these works, each of them describing largescale shrines which relate to our present theme. In his Târîkh-i Rashîdî, written in Persian in the middle of the sixteenth century, Mîrzâ Muhammad Haydar describes the shrines of Khotan as follows: Imâm ‘Alâ’ al-Dîn Muhammad Khotanî [who was killed by Küchlük of Naiman in the time of Chingiz Khan], is mentioned in all histories, but no one in Khotan knows his tomb (qabr) or even his name. There are, however, many other shrines (mazârât) there about which nothing is known. In oral traditions, the untruth of which can be understood from books on history, it is said that these include Qum-i Shahîdân and 2 Imâm Dhabîha, mashhad of Ja‘far Tayyâr and Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq, may God be pleased with them, and several others of the Companions (ashâb). But the untruth of this is evident. It is possible that some of the Followers of Followers (taba‘-i tâbi‘în) by these names came and suffered martyrdom, because before the conversion of Kashgar to Islam some of the Followers of Followers came and conducted a holy war (ghazât) in Kashgar. Another strange thing is that martyrs who were put in coffins sometimes become visible from the sand being 1 2

Ma Pinyan, “Nanjiang de mazha he mazha chaobai” [Mazar and worship in Southern Xinjiang], in Qinghaisheng Zongjiaoju, ed., Zhongguo yisilan jiao yanjiu (Xining: Qinghai Renmin Chubanshe, 1987), pp. 369-370. The Arabic text has ZYBHH or ZYJH (Muhammad Haydar, Târîkh-i Rashîdî, MS (London: British Library, Or. 157), f. 220b.

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blown away by the wind. There is no change in them, and the wounds inflicted on the bodies and blood which issued from the wounds are dried up. Every one who performs circumambulation (tawâf) of these 3 shrines witnesses these things.

Among translations and editions of the Târîkh-i Rashîdî, there is some variation in the rendering of two of the above-mentioned shrines. The name of Qum-i Shahîdân 4 (“Desert of Martyrs”) is not mentioned in the translations of E.D. Ross and A. Ur5 unbaev et al., although a range of other works suggest that such a place (or places) indeed existed. M. A. Stein describes a certain shrine of Kum-i-Shahîdân [=Qum-i Shahîdân], near Yotkan to the west of Khotan City, where 360 faithful followers of four Imams are said to have found martyrdom in the final struggle with the hea6 then ruler of Khotan. F. Grenard mentions a small mazar named Koum Chahîdân [=Qum Shahîdân], les Martyrs du Désert (Martyrs of the Desert), near Keriya in 7 Khotan Prefecture. We cannot doubt the existence of sacred places called Qum-i Shahîdân or Qum Shahîdân in Khotan Prefecture, but it is unlikely that they are individual names of shrines, as we shall see later. The second shrine for which we find textual variation is that of “Imâm Dhabîha.” In Urunbaev’s translation, this is rendered as “Imam Zahiba/Zahib.” W. M. 8 Thackston renders it as “Imam Rabiha.” In this case, Imâm Dhabîha (“Slaughtered Imâm”) is the correct reading, as will later become clear. The shrine of Imâm Dhabîha is also mentioned in the Persian-language Târîkh of Shâh Mahmûd Churâs, composed in the 1670s. The passage in question concerns Khwâja Ishâq Walî (d. 1599), a son of Makhdûm-i A‘zam, leader of the Naqshbandiyya tarîqat. We read how Khwâja Ishâq Walî came to Khotan from Yarkand in the latter half of the sixteenth century: 3

4

5 6 7 8

Muhammad Haydar, Târîkh-i Rashîdî, f. 220b. Cf. Mirza Haydar Dughlat’s Tarikh-iRashidi: A History of the Khans of Moghulistan, Persian text edited by W. M. Thackston (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996), p. 244; Mîrzâ Muhammad Haydar Dughlât, Târîkh-i Rashîdî, Edited by ‘Abbâsqulî Ghaffârî Fard (Tehran: Mîrâs-i Maktûb, 2004), p. 430. A History of the Moghuls of Central Asia, Being the Tarikh-i Rashidi of Mirza Muhammad Haidar, Dughlat, An English Version Edited, with Commentary, Notes, and Map by N. Elias, the Translation by E. Denison Ross (London: Curzon Press, 1895, reprint 1972), p. 298. Mirza Mukhammad Khaidar, Ta’rikh-i Rashidi, Vvedenie, perevod s persidskogo A. Urunbaeva, R. P. Dzhalilovoi, L. M. Epifanovoi (Tashkent: Fan, 1996), p. 370. M. Aurel Stein, Sand-buried Ruins of Khotan (London: Hurst and Blackett, 1904, reprint, New Delhi: Madras, 2000), p. 249; M. Aurel Stein, Ancient Khotan (Oxford: Oxford University, 1907, reprint, New York, 1975), vol. 1, pp. 226, 230. J.-L. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie (Paris : Ernest Leroux, 1898), p. 46. Mirza Haydar Dughlat’s Tarikh-i-Rashidi, A History of the Khans of Moghulistan, p. 190.

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Hazrat-i ‘Azîzân [= Khwâja Ishâq Walî] arrived in the country of Khotan. Quraysh Sultân with his distinguished men welcomed him and made supplication. Hazrat-i ‘Azîzân went to the shrine (maqâm) of Imâm Dhabîha, and after returning he was engaged in guiding defective men for 9 three years at Chira.

Although O. F. Akimushkin reads “maqâm-i Imâm Dhabîha” as “grobnitsa «Zakolotogo imama»” (“shrine of «Slaughtered imâm»”) in his Russian translation, this shrine of Imâm Dhabîha is thought to be identical with that of the Târîkh-i Rashîdî. The third work to discuss the shrines of Khotan is the Târîkh-i Hamîdî, composed in Chaghatay by Mullâ Mûsâ Sayrâmî at the beginning of the twentieth century. In the work, Sayrâmî disputes the historicity of the shrine of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq. He writes as follows: There is a grave (marqad) of the famous Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq, may God be pleased with him, in the land of Khotan. It is a sublime place of pilgrimage (ziyâratgâh-i ‘âlî). All the people believe sincerely that the blessed body of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq, may God be pleased with him, is in the environs of Khotan. In histories, however, especially in the Rawzat alSafâ, it is related that Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq bin Imâm Muhammad Bâqir bin ‘Alî, whose laqab is Zayn al-‘Âbidîn, bin Imâm Husayn, may God be pleased with them, died in the year 148 under the Abbasid khalîfa Ja‘far Dawâniq [= Mansûr] and was buried at the foot of his father, Muhammad Bâqir, and his grandfather, Zayn al-‘Âbidîn, and his blessed body is at the cemetery of Baqî‘ [in Medina]. The following is obvious. Once one of the shaykhs of the high-ranking, named Ja‘far, perfectly observed the sublime Sunna, he seems to have attained the status of imam and leader. Disciples and devotees contemporary with him seem to have said that he was Imâm Ja‘far, the second (thânî). Utterance of thânî seems to have changed to sâdiq by popular error, for utterances of thânî and sâdiq resemble each other in rhythm and pronunciation. [Text partly omitted.] In this way, there are many holy shrines of high-ranking and blessed respectful places of pilgrimage (mazârât-i ‘azîz-i ‘âlî-darajât wa ziyâratgâh-i ‘âlî-jâh-i tabarrukâtlar) called Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân, Imâm Dhabîh Allâh, Imâm Qâsim, and Imâm Hâshim in Khotan. In addition, cruel Kûshlûk Khân [= Küchlük of Nayman in the time of Chingiz Khan] massacred so many learned and pious men. [The place of massacre] is well9

Shakh Makhmud ibn Mirza Fazil Churas, Khronika, Kriticheskii tekst, perevod, kommentarii, issledovanie i ukazateli O. F. Akimushukina (Moscow: Nauka, 1976), text, p. 18, transl., p. 168.

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known as “Qum-i Shahîdân.” For this reason, [Khotan] is called 10 “Shahîdân-i Khotan” [“Country of Martyrs”].

In his Uyghur translation of the Târîkh-i Hamîdî, Änwär Baytur reads not “Qum-i 11 Shahîdân” but “qäwmi shähidan,” presumably in the sense of “people of the martyr”. Given afore-mentioned attestations elsewhere to the existence of a place or places called Qum-i Shahîdân or Qum Shahîdân in Khotan Prefecture, however, I prefer “Qum-i Shahîdân” to Baytur’s reading. “Qum-i Shahîdân” seems to be used as a general term for sacred places of martyred imams of Khotan in the context of the Târîkh-i Hamîdî. The Târîkh-i Hamîdî’s ‘Imâm Dhabîh Allâh’, meanwhile, is presumably identical with the ‘Imâm Dhabîha’ as found in the Târîkh-i Rashîdî and Târîkh-i Shâh Mahmûd. The names of the shrines mentioned in our three histories are thus as follows: Târîkh-i Rashîdî Imâm Dhabîha Ja‘far Tayyâr Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq

Târîkh-i Shâh Mahmûd Imâm Dhabîha

Târîkh-i Hamîdî Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân Imâm Dhabîh Allâh Imâm Qâsim Imâm Hâshim

We can now go some way towards identifying these eponymous figures. Regarding Imâm Dhabîha, we may turn to a work called the Tadhkira-i Imâm Dhabîhlar (“Biography of sacrificed imams”), of which nine manuscript copies are held at the 12 Institute of Oriental Studies in St. Petersburg. This biography relates the legendary story of four imams who struggled against infidels and were killed allegedly in the year 390/999-1000. The names of the four imams are Nâsir al-Dîn, Mu‘în al-Dîn, Zuhûr al-Dîn, and Qawwâm al-Dîn, and they were all sons of Imâm Fattâh. The four imams lived at Madâ’in [in Iraq]. At the request of Yûsuf Qâdir Khân [of the Qarakhanids], who came from Kashgar, the four imams went to Kashgar and Yarkand, and then to Mâchîn, where they died by violence in a battle with infidels un13 der the command of Juqtî Rashîd and Nuqtî Rashîd. The shrine of the “imâm-i 10 11 12 13

Mullâ Mûsâ Sayrâmî, Târîkh-i Hamîdî, Gansusheng Guji Wenxian Zhengli Bianyi Zhongxin, ed., Zhongguo xibei wenxian congshu, 2 bian, di 4 ji, Xibei shaoshu minzu wenzi wenxian, di 4 juan (Peking: Xianzhuang Shuju, 2006), pp. 329-330. Änwär Baytur, Târîkh-i Hamîdî (Peking: Millätlär Näshriyati, 1986), p. 644. A. M. Muginov, Opisanie uigurskikh rukopisei Instituta narodov Azii (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo Vostochnoi Literatury, 1962), pp. 55-58, 173. A. M. Muginov, Opisanie uigurskikh rukopisei Instituta narodov Azii, pp. 55-56. Cf. Abliz Orxun and Sugawara Jun, ed., Mazar Documents from Xinjiang and Ferghana (Facsimile), Studia Culturae Islamicae, No. 87 (Tokyo: Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, 2007), pp. 16-18, facsimile: fol. 30b-54b (Tadhkira-i Hazrat-i Imâmân-i Keriâ).

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dhabîh” (“sacrificed imam”) is mentioned in a collective hagiography entitled Tadhkira-i Bughrâ-khân or Tadhkira-i Uwaysiyya, and the names of the “four sacrificed imams” are usually given as Nâsir al-Dîn, Mu‘în al-Dîn, Zâhir al-Dîn, and 14 Qiwâm al-Dîn. Ja‘far Tayyâr, whom we find mentioned in the Târîkh-i Rashîdî, was a son of 15 Prophet Muhammad’s uncle, Abû Tâlib, and consequently a brother of ‘Alî. After his death, Ja‘far b. Abî Tâlib was called Ja‘far al-Tayyâr fî al-janna (“he who flies into Paradise”) as the Prophet declared that he had had a dream of him flying on two bloody wings among a group of angels in Paradise. His tomb is found at Mu’ta 16 not far from the Dead Sea. According to a work entitled Tadhkira-i Imâm Ja‘far 17 Tayrân, Ja‘far Tayrân is a brother of ‘Alî, son-in-law of Prophet Muhammad. The Târîkh-i Rashîdî’s Ja‘far Tayyâr and the Târîkh-i Hamîdî‘s Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân can thus be identified as one and the same figure. Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq is of course the sixth imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites. He died 18 in the year 765 and was buried in the Baqî‘ cemetery in Medina. The figures of Imâm Qâsim and Imâm Hâshim are mentioned only in the Târîkh-i Hamîdî. Regarding Imâm Hâshim, we remain ignorant. Regarding Imâm Qâsim, however, F. Grenard notes how, in the genealogy of oral traditions of Khotan, Imâm Mahdî, the last imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites, is replaced by Qâsim, 19 whose tomb is found 16 km north-northeast of the city of Khotan. This genealogy lists four imams named Nasr ed-dîn, Kayâm ed-dîn, Zeher ed-dîn, and Mou’eyn eddîn as sons of Aftah, son of Kâcim [= Qâsim], and recounts that the four imams died in the year 1000 and were buried at Teurt Imâm [= Tört Imâm, “Four Imams”] 20 not far from Polour. The “Légende des quatre Imams Nasr ed-dîn, Kayâm ed-dîn, 14

15

16 17 18 19 20

Julian Baldick, Imaginary Muslims: The Uwaysi Sufis of Central Asia (London-New York: New York University Press, 1993), p. 171; Devin DeWeese, “The Tadhkira-i Bughrā-khān and the “Uvaysī” Sufis of Central Asia: Notes in Review of Imaginary Muslims,” Central Asiatic Journal 40:1 (1996), p. 117. Baldick takes the shrine of the “imâm-i dhabîh” to be that of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq (Imaginary Muslims, p. 240, note 163), but this is plainly impossible. J. A. Boyle, The History of World Conqueror (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1958), vol. 2, p. 642, footnote 8; L. Veccia Vaglieri, “Dja‘far b. Abī Tālib,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 2, p. 372; K. V. Zetterstéen, “Dja‘far b. Abī Tālib,” E. J. Brill’s First Encyclopaedia of Islam, 1913-1936, 2 , p. 993. L. Veccia Vaglieri, “Dja‘far b. Abī Tālib”, p. 372; K. V. Zetterstéen, “Dja‘far b. Abī Tālib,” p. 993. Muginov, Opisanie uigurskikh rukopisei Instituta Narodov Azii, p. 55. M. G. S. Hodgson, “Dja‘far al- Sādik,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 2, pp. 374-375. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, pp. 3, 4, 35, 38. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, pp. 3, 4.

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Zeher ed-dîn, Mou’eyn ed-dîn” explains the story of their martyrdom by way of the same plot as the Tadhkira-i Imâm Dhabîhlar mentioned above, and dates the murder of the four imams to 10 Dhû al-Hijja 390 (10 November 1000). As for the name of the father of the four imams, the “Légende des quatre Imams” mentions Aftah, son of Imâm Kâcim [= Qâsim], son of Imâm Haçan ‘Askerî [= Hasan ‘Askarî, the eleventh imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites], while the Tadhkira-i Imâm Dhabîhlar mentions Imâm Fattâh. In any case, Tört Imâm (“Four Imams”) or Imâm Dhabîhlar (“Sacrificed Imams”) are connected through Aftah (or Fattâh) and his father, Qâsim, with the genealogy of the imams of the Twelver Shi‘ites. Since the twelfth imam 22 was also given the name of Abû al-Qâsim Muhammad, it is possible that Qâsim was confused with Abû al-Qâsim (“Father of Qâsim”) in the oral traditions of Khotan. We can thus identify as follows all those individuals – with the exception of Imâm Hâshim – whose mazars are said in our three chronicles to have existed in Khotan: - Ja‘far Tayyâr (Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân), a son of Prophet Muhammad’s uncle, Abû Tâlib - Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq, the sixth imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites - Imâm Qâsim, a son of Hasan ‘Askarî, the eleventh imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites - Imâm Dhabîha (Imâm Dhabîh Allâh) or Tört Imam, sons of Aftah (or Fattâh), son of Qâsim - Nâsir al-Dîn (Nasr ed-dîn) - Mu‘în al-Dîn - Zuhr al-Dîn (Zâhir al-Dîn, Zeher ed-dîn) - Qawwâm al-Dîn (Qiwâm al-Dîn, Kayâm ed-dîn) - Imâm Hâshim, unknown

Location and Present Condition of the Imams’ Shrines Here I shall select the large-scale shrines connected with the names of imams from among the present sacred sites in Khotan Prefecture in geographical order from the suburbs of Khotan City eastward. (1) Qum Rabat Padishahim Mazar or Käptär Mazar (“Pigeons’ Sanctuary”): 30 km to 23 the southwest of Qaraqash Nahiyä (County) Bazar. According to M. Aurel Stein, 21 22 23

Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, pp. 38-41. J. G. J. Ter Haar, “Muhammad al-Ķā’im,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 7, p. 443. Rahilä Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri (Urumchi: Shinjang Khälq Näshriyati, 2001), pp. 142143; Reyila Dawuti [Rahilä Dawut], Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu [Research on Mazar worship among the Uyghur people of Xinjiang China] (Urumchi: Xinjiang Daxue Chubanshe, 2001), pp. 157-158.

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pigeons are believed to be the offspring of a pair of doves which miraculously appeared from the heart of Imam Shakir Padshah, who died here in a battle with the 24 infidel, i.e., the Buddhists of Khotan. (2) Yalghuz Oghul Mazar: Urchi Yeza, Qaraqash Nahiyä. In a legend it is said that 25 the only child (yalghuz oghul) of an imam died here or disappeared. (3) Imam Aftah Mazar or Imami Äptäh Mazar: Karuk Kent, Saybagh Yeza, Qaraqash Nahiyä. There are seven tombs of seven imams at this mazar. In a legend it is said that seven brothers named Imami Äptäh, Imami Ähmäd, Imami Zäynul Abidin, Imami Muhämmäd, Imami Eli Äkbär, Imami Eli Änwär, and Imami Eli Äskär became martyrs in battles with the army of the Udun (Khotan) Buddhists 26 Chuqti Räshid and Nuqti Räshid. According to “Légende d’Imam Aftah,” Iman Aftah was the third of the seven sons of Imâm Hasan ‘Askarî (the eleventh imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites), and he was the father of four sons named Nasr ed-dîn, Moueyn ed-dîn, Kaouâm ed-dîn, and Zeher ed-dîn. Imam Aftah died in the course of struggles against the army of Tchoukty Réchîd [Juqtî Rashîd] and Noukty Réchîd 27 [Nuqtî Rashîd]. (4) Imam Äskär Mazar or Imami Äskär Mazar: on the outskirts of Tüwät Yeza, about 20 km from Qaraqash Nahiyä Bazar. In a legend it is said that Imam Äskär 28 was martyred in a battle with Buddhists and buried here. We locate the shrine of Imam Askeri 17 km to the north of Qaraqash town on the map of F. Grenard, who considers Imam Askeri to be Imâm Hasan ‘Askarî, the eleventh imam of Twelver 29 Shi‘ites. (5) Kuhmarim Mazar: Layqa Yeza, Khotän (Khotan) Nahiyä; on Mt. Kuhmarim, 26 km to the southwest of Khotän Shähär. Here is a tomb of Muip Khoja, descend30 ant of Imâm Hasan, the second imam of the Shi‘ites. The Tadhkira-i Bughrâ-khân or Tadhkira-i Uwaysiyya tells the story of Muhibb Kuhmar (Khwâja Muhibb Kûhmâr), a descendant of Imâm Hasan, who traveled with a snake and built here a 31 langar and hermitage with a dervish. 24 25 26 27 28 29

30 31

M. Aurel Stein, Sand-buried Ruins of Khotan, p. 179. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 146-146; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 158. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 144-145. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, pp. 35-38. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 148-149; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 158. F. Grenard, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie. Carte de l’Asie centrale (Dressée d’après les travaux des explorateurs modernes, les cartes chinoises et les renseignements d’indigènes par F. G. dessinée par J. Hansen), Paris, 1899, carte I; Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, p. 4. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 123-125; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 155. J. Baldick, Imaginary Muslims, p. 163-165; MS. (St-Petersburg: Institut Vostokovedeniya

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(6) Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim Mazar: Buzaq Yeza, Khotän Nahiyä. Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim is the seventh imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites, and his tomb is in Kâzimayn, a suburb of 33 Baghdad. According to “Légende d’Imam Mouça Kâzim,” the tomb of Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim is in Khotan, but at the moment of his death God sent his corpse to Mecca 34 and placed the body at the foot of his father’s corpse. (7) Buya Mazar: Buya Yeza, Lop Nahiyä. There are two tombs of a father and his 35 son, i.e., Imâm Muhammad Taqî and Imâm Muhammad Naqî. Taqî [= Imâm Muhammad al-Jawâd] is the ninth imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites and he was buried 36 in Kâzimayn in Iraq. Naqî [= Imâm ‘Alî al-Hâdî] is the tenth imam of the Twelver 37 Shi‘ites and he was buried in Samarra in Iraq. According to the legends of Khotan, however, Muhammad Taqî and Muhammad Naqî died together and were buried near Yurungqash in Khotan, or they were poisoned at dinner when receiving am38 bassadors from Qara Khitay. (8) Imam Asim Mazar: on the edge of the Taklamakan Desert, 9.5 km to the north of Jiya Yeza, Lop Nahiyä. There are two tombs whose names are, according to a legend, Imam Asim and his brother, Imâm Hâshim. Imam Asim is said to have joined in the battle of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq against Toqquz Khaqan and have found martyr39 dom in the spring of 148 H. According to “La légende d’Imâm Dja’far Sâdik,” this 40 imam is called Imâm ‘Acîm, son of Mohammed Hanîfah, son of Châh Merouân. Every year from the middle of April to the end of May, two or three tens of thousands of people, including people from Kashgar, Aqsu and Northern Xinjiang, visit 41 this mazar for what is called “Imam Asim säylisi (stroll).” 42

(9) Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân (or Tehran) Mazar: Chira Yeza, Chira Nahiyä. As mentioned above, Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân is identical with Ja‘far Tayyâr, a son of Prophet Muhammad’s uncle, Abû Tâlib. According to F. Grenard, Ja‘far Tayrân flew in the

32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Rossiiskoi Akademii Nauk Sankt-Peterburgskii Filial, MS, D 114), ff. 236a-239a. R. Dawut, Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 155. See ill. 1. E. Kohlberg, “Mūsā al-Kāzim,”The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 7, p. 647. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, p. 32. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 140-141; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 156. M. Streck - A. A. Dixon, “Kāzimayn,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 4, p. 855. A. Northedge, “Sāmarrā’,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 8, p. 1040. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, pp. 4, 32. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 126-131; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 156. See ill. 2. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, p. 29. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 129; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 156. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 150-154; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 159.

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sky to perform the mission of informing the people of Khotan and Keriya about the 43 coming of the prophet of God, and the imam died in Chira. Hiroshi Umemura and Masatoshi Kisaichi visited the Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân Mazar in 1989 and 1990. Kisaichi records the legend that Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân came there riding on a black bird in the 44 thirteenth century. (10) Imâm Mahdî Âkhir Zamân Mazar: at the foot of the Kunlun Mountains, to the north of Qizilyol Känt (Village), 19.8 km to the southeast of Chaqa Yeza in Chira 45 Nahiyä. Imâm Mahdî Âkhir Zamân is the last imam of the (Twelver) Shi‘ites. (11) Töt Imam Mazar: at the foot of the Kunlun Mountains, Bostan Yeza, Chira Nahiyä. There are four tombs at this mazar. It is said that four people named Näsridin, Muhiddin, Zäydin, and Kawandin came from Bukhara to assist the Qarakhanid army in the battle against the Udun (Khotan) kingdom and became martyrs in the tenth century. Yûsuf Qâdir Khân is said to have buried them and built a dome (gumbaz). Other legends relate that four imams of Arabia came here to propagate 46 Islam and were killed 1,000 years ago. The names of the four persons correspond to those of the Tadhkira-i Imâm Dhabîhlar and so on mentioned above. (12) Imâm Ghazzâlî Mazar: Länggär Yeza, Kiriyä (Keriya) Nahiyä. It is said that Imâm Ghazzâlî came from an Arab country, fought against Buddhists, and became a martyr. Imâm Ghazzâlî is also said to be a descendant of Muhammad. Each year in April and September, pilgrims (tawapchilar) visit this mazar and thereafter they 47 go to [the mazar of] Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq. According to “La légende d’Imâm Mohammed Ghezzâlî,” Imâm Mohammed Ghezzâlî was a son of Hanîfah, son of ‘Alî, son of Abou Tâlib, and he became a martyr on Friday, 10 Jumada al-awwal 121 (24 April 48 739). There is a large bronze cauldron dedicated to the mazar of Imâm Muhammad Ghazzâlî by Ya‘qûb Beg, a renowned ruler of Eastern Turkestan. This cauldron was in the entrance hall of the Khotan Cultural Museum (Khotän Wilayätlik Mädäniyät Yadikarliqlirini Bashqurush Orni) when I visited it in February 2000. The following Chaghatay Turkic text is inscribed on the rim of the cauldron:

43 44

45 46 47 48

Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, p. 2. Masatoshi Kisaichi, “Toshi to seijabyô” [Cities and saint shrines], in Kôsuke Shimizu, ed., Isuramu toshi ni okeru gaiku no jittai ni kansuru hikaku kenkyû [A comparative study of Islamic city quarters (mahalla) and popular organisations] (in Japanese) (Tokyo: Tôkyô Gaikokugo Daigaku, 1991), p. 109. R. Dawut, Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 158. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 155-156; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 159160. R. Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 157; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 160. Dutreuil de Rhins, Mission scientifique dans la Haute Asie 1890-1895, Troisième partie, pp. 13, 27.

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[This cauldron was] prepared on Friday, 26 Jumâdâ al-awwal 1291 [11 July 1874]. [Text partly omitted.] His Highness Muhammad Ya‘qûb Beg Amîr Ghâzî cast the cauldron at his own factory in Kashgar and donated it to the honourable mazar of His Excellency Imâm Muhammad Ghazzâlî. (Târîkhqa bir ming iki yüz toqsan bir jumâdâ al-awwal ayning yigirmä altïsï jum‘a küni tayyâr boldï. Sana 1291. [Text partly omitted.] bu dasni(?) janâb-i ba-dawlatïmïz Muhammad Ya‘qûb Beg Amîr Ghâzî Kâshghar wilâyatïda öz kâr-khânalarïda quydurup, Hazrat-i Imâm Muhammad Ghazzâlî Mazâr-i sharîfgha waqf qïldïlar.)

(13) Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar: on the edge of the Taklamakan Desert, 5 km to the north of Qapaq Asqan Känt [Hamlet], 70 km to the north of Niya Yeza Bazar, Niya Nahiyä. It is said that Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq came to Udun [Khotan] to propagate Islam and became a martyr here. There is a time-honoured opinion that circumambulating (tawap qilghanliq) Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar three times is equivalent to circumambulating Ka‘ba in Mecca. Every year from the end of August to the end of October, it receives countless numbers of pilgrims (tawapchilar). Many Muslims come to the mazar from Khotan, Kashgar, and Aqsu Prefectures and from outside Xinjiang, 49 i.e., from Gansu and Qinghai Provinces and Ningxia Region. When I visited the museum of Niya in February 2000 there were two cauldrons on display, one small and one large. These are said to have been brought from Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar in October 1999. A Chaghatay Turkic text is inscribed on the inner rim of the larger cauldron, which is about 1 meter wide. Although the Arabic letters are engraved lightly, I could make out some words: “Muhammad Ya‘qûb,” “waqf qïldï bu qazan.” In the conquest of Khotan in 1867, Ya‘qûb Beg displayed a capacity for some underhand tricks. He informed Habîb Allâh, ruler of Khotan, that he came to Khotan not for war but in order to pray at the tomb of the Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq, a descendant of the sainted ‘Ali. The credulous Habîb Allâh re50 mained in Ya‘qûb Beg’s camp, and was slain on his orders.

Features of the Imams’ Shrines and Pilgrimage to Them Out of the above-mentioned imam shrines presently found in Khotan Prefecture, we may identify two groups, each distinguished by the type of personages therein commemorated: 49 50

Rahilä Dawut, Uyghur Mazarliri, pp. 158-160; Weiwuerzu mazha wenhua yanjiu, p. 160; Ma Pinyan, “Nanjiang de mazha he mazha chaobai,” p. 374. See ill. 3 and 4. A.N. Kuropatkin, Kashgharia, Translated from the Russian by Walter E. Gowan (Calcutta: Thacker, Spink and Co., 1882), pp. 169-170; A.N. Kuropatkin, Kashgariya (StPetersburg: Tipografiya B. S. Balasheva, 1879), p. 141; Hodong Kim, Holy War in China: The Muslim Rebellion and State in Chinese Central Asia, 1864-1877 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004), pp. 90-91.

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Group (A): imams of the Twelver Shi‘ites (13) Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar: the sixth imam (6) Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim Mazar: the seventh imam (7) Buya Mazar (Imâm Muhammad Taqî = Imâm Muhammad al-Jawâd): the ninth imam (7) Buya Mazar (Naqî = Imâm ‘Alî al-Hâdî): the tenth imam (4) Imam Äskär Mazar: Imâm Hasan ‘Askarî, the eleventh imam (10) Imâm Mahdî Âkhir Zamân Mazar: the twelfth imam We may add to this group the mazar of Imâm Zayn al-‘Âbidîn, the fourth imam of the Twelver Shi‘ites. The mazar of Imâm Zayn al-‘Âbidîn was located near Yotkan to the west of Khotan city when M. A. Stein and C. G. Mannerheim visited Khotan 51 at the end of the nineteenth century and in the early twentieth century. According to a study by Ma Pinyan, there are nine mazars of the Twelver Shi‘ite Imâms from the fourth Imâm Zayn al-‘Âbidîn to the twelfth Imam Muhammad Muntazar (Mahdi) in Khotan Prefecture, though Ma Pinyan does not necessarily point out all the locations of the mazars. Although these nine mazars are not the real tombs of the Imâms, people consider them real mazars and go there on pilgrimage. Among these nine mazars commonly known as the “Twelve Imâms’ Mazârs (Shier yimamu mazha),” Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar is held in special respect by pious 52 people. Group (B): alleged descendants of the Twelver Shi‘ite imams (3) Imam Aftah (Äptäh) Mazar: seven sons of Imâm Hasan ‘Askarî, the eleventh imam (5) Kuhmarim Mazar: a descendant of Imâm Hasan, the second imam (11) Töt Imam Mazar: four sons of Aftah (or Fattâh), who is said to be a son of Imâm Hasan ‘Askarî, the eleventh imam, or a son of Qâsim, allegedly the twelfth imam The four imams of (11) Töt Imam Mazar were called Imâm Dhabîhlar (Imâm Dhabîha, Imâm Dhabîh Allâh), or the “Sacrificed Imâms.” According to legend, they carried out a request of Yûsuf Qâdir Khân of the Qarakhanids and became martyrs in a campaign against the infidels of Khotan. This legend serves to connect the two 53 traditions of the Qarakhanids and ‘Alîds. 51 52 53

M. A. Stein, Ancient Khotan, vol. 2, plate 23; C. G. Mannerheim, Across Asia from West to East in 1906-1908 (Helsinki: Société Finno-Ougrienne, 1940, reed. 1969), vol. 1, p. 90. Ma Pinyan, “Nanjiang de mazha he mazha chaobai,” pp. 372-373; Ma Pinyan, “Shier yimamu mazha,” in Zhongguo yisilan baike quanshu [Chinese Encyclopaedia of Islam] (Chengdu: Sichuan Cishu Chubanshe, 1994), p. 507. Masami Hamada, “Un Aperçu des manuscrits Čaġatay en provenance du Turkestan oriental,” in Akira Haneda, ed., Documents et archives provenant de l’Asie centrale (Kyoto: Association franco-japonaise des études orientales, 1990), p. 112.

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Groups (A) and (B) are distinctive among the shrines of Khotan Prefecture. But we cannot overlook another shrine of a descendant of ‘Alî ibn Abî Tâlib. (12) Imâm Ghazzâlî Mazar commemorates Imâm Muhammad Ghazzâlî, who is said to be a son of Hanîfah, son of ‘Alî. According to the opinion of Masami Hamada, the very curious apparition of Ghazâlî in F. Grenard’s genealogy of the imams can be explained by the fact that the grand Sufi theologian had the kunya, Abû Hâsim (Hâshim?), in 54 common with a son of Ibn Hanîfa, son of ‘Alî. Hanîfah (or Ibn Hanîfa) must be Muhammad ibn al-Hanafiyya, son of ‘Alî ibn Abî Tâlib by Khawla, a woman of the 55 tribe of the Banû Hanîfa. It goes without saying that Muhammad ibn alHanafiyya and his son Abû Hâshim ‘Abd Allâh are very important imams of the 56 early Shi‘ites. According to A. K. Muminov’s study, the cult of Imâm Muhammad 57 ibn al-Hanafiyya is widespread in Central Asia. There are two shrines that com58 memorate Muhammad Hanafiyya in the Ferghana Valley. Imam Asim (‘Acîm) of (8) Imam Asim Mazar, who is said to have joined in the battle of Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq against Toqquz Khaqan and to have thus found martyrdom, is mentioned as a son of Mohammed Hanîfah, son of Châh Merouân. Though we do not know who Châh Merouân was, this Mohammed Hanîfah may possibly be Imâm Muhammad ibn alHanafiyya. In two shrines, the blood relationship with the imams of the Twelver Shi‘ites is not explicit, namely, Imam Shakir Padshah of (1) Qum Rabat Padishahim Mazar, and the only child (yalghuz oghul) of (2) Yalghuz Oghul Mazar. On the contrary, Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân (Tayyâr) of (9) Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân (Tehran) Mazar was a son of Prophet Muhammad’s uncle, Abû Tâlib, that is to say, a brother of ‘Alî. We thus see a variety of identities ascribed to the imams whom we find commemorated at the shrines of Khotan Prefecture. Most of these figures can be identified as imams of the Twelver Shi‘ites and their alleged descendants. But there are also some personages who are not descendants of ‘Alî, and who are yet called im54 55 56 57 58

Masami Hamada, “Un Aperçu des manuscrits Čaġatay en provenance du Turkestan oriental,” p. 112. Fr. Buhl, “Muhammad ibn al-Hanafiyya,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 7, pp. 402-403; J. A. Boyle, The History of World Conqueror, vol. 2, p. 641, footnote 4. W. Madelung, “Kaysāniyya,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 4, pp. 836-837; S. Moscati, “Abū Hāshim,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 1, pp. 124-125; B. Lewis, “‘Abbāsids,” The Encyclopaedia of Islam, New Edition, 1, p. 15. A. K. Muminov, “Kokandskaya versiya islamizatsii Turkestana,” in Podvizhniki Islama. Kul’t svyatykh i sufizm v Srednei Azii i na Kavkaze (Moscow: Vostochnaia Literatura, 2003), p. 145-146. Minoru Sawada, “Ferugana bonchi ni okeru seichi chôsa” [Description of sacred places surveyed in the Ferghana Valley], in Chûô Ajia no Isuramu seichi: Ferugana bonchi to Kashugaru chihô [Islamic Sacred Places in Central Asia: The Ferghana Valley and Kashghar Region], Shirukurôdogaku kenkyû 28 (Silkroadology 28) (in Japanese) (Nara: The Nara International Foundation–Commemorating the Silk Road Exposition, 2007), pp. 6-7.

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ams. The notion of what constitutes an imam in Khotan thus emerges as a highly complex one. Rahilä Dawut reports a pilgrimage route to the shrines in Khotan Prefecture as follows: (2) Yalghuz Oghul Mazar→(4) Imam Äskär Mazar→(8) Imam Asim Mazar→Üjmä Mazar→(5) Kuhmarim Mazar→(6) Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim Mazar→(9) Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân→(10) Imâm Mahdî Âkhir Zamân Mazar→(11) Töt Imam Mazar→(12) Imâm Ghazzâlî Mazar→(13) Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar. Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar is the end of the route, and pilgrims gather here on every side. Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar occupies a central position in shrine pilgrim59 age in Khotan Prefecture. It is worth noting that Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar is located on the edge of the Taklamakan Desert, 75 km to the north of central Niya oasis, at the eastern end of Khotan Prefecture. That is to say, visiting it is very difficult for the people of Xinjiang. This is probably one of the reasons why Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq Mazar is famous as a pilgrimage place crowded with thousands of people. Another reason is, I suppose, that Ja‘far Sâdiq is highly respected both by Shi‘i and Sunni Muslims. Ja‘far Sâdiq lived quietly in Medina as an authority in hadith and probably in fiqh; he is cited 60 with respect in Sunni isnâds. He is most suited to the complex notion of imams in Khotan, and presumably in Xinjiang more generally.

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Ill. 1: Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim mazar

Ill. 2: Imam Asim mazar

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Ill. 3: Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq mazar

Ill. 4: Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq mazar

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Some Political Features of Finno-Ugrian and Muslim Hagiolatry in the Volga-Ural Region

Allen J. Frank The religious topography of the Volga-Ural region is in many respects unique in Inner Asia. It is a region where Christianity, Islam, and a number of native religious traditions (commonly referred to in the sources as “paganism” or “animism”) have interacted for over a thousand years. It is also a very knotty religious environment to analyze because of its remarkable ethnic and communal complexity. Overall, it can be said that both Islam and its numerous native religions traditions reveal a highly dynamic history, driven in large measure by political events in the medieval and modern eras. Shrines and pilgrimage were, and continue to be, among the chief means for various religious groups to express narrative traditions that distinguished their communities from those of their neighbours, and to create the geographic contours of their communities. This generalisation applies to all religious and ethnic groups in the Volga-Ural region, including Christians, Muslims, and “animists.” But the connection of shrine-based narratives to communal and even political identity finds its fullest historical development among the region’s Finno-Ugrians and Muslims, albeit in different ways. Both comparatively and individually the shrine phenomenon remains very little studied for the Volga-Ural region. This is regrettable, since shrines are of singular importance for appreciating narrative traditions that distinguish and explain differences between the region’s religious communities; they also allow us to appreciate how shared religious conceptions and practices are can be used and expressed in different ways in the same region. The native population of the Volga-Ural region resists broad generalisation. It consists of several major Finno-Ugric and Turkic linguistic groups, these being the Finno-Ugric Maris, Udmurts and Mordvins, and the Turkic Chuvash, Tatars, and 1 Bashkirs. But because of more or less constant historical and demographic integration between these groups, the linguistic and communal boundaries tend to be rather indistinct, and it is precisely at these boundaries (both physical and conceptual) that we see the strongest development of distinguishing narrative traditions. It should be added that historically the basis for communal cohesion in the Volga-Ural region was above all religious, while linguistically-defined communities only 1

As officially-established ethnic titles, these modern ethnonyms date from the Soviet era; the ethnic taxonomy of the region, especially for the Imperial Russian period, is considerably more complex and disputed. However, for the sake of simplicity I have retained the modern nomenclature.

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began to gain currency rather recently, during the Soviet era. Before that time, and well into the Soviet period, communal cohesion was understood and expressed primarily in religious terms, with religious communities organised mainly around kinship groups. The link between ancestors and hagiolatry applies equally to Muslim and native traditions, however, and is equally evident among native communities converted to Christianity. Mari and Udmurt shrine traditions crossed the state-instituted religious boundaries. These traditions functioned at several levels, and at the broadest level united far-flung communities at the shrines of specific saints by means of narratives that invoked a shared political history centered on the memory of former rulers. A similar dynamic existed among Muslims, where shrines appeared at the sites of former Muslim capitals, and former rulers, or saints associated with them, were venerated as saints. Such shrines were located near Bilyarsk, and in Kazan, Astrakhan, and Saraychïq. However, in the narratives of “Bulgharist” shrine catalogues that emerged at the end of the eighteenth century, we see a conscious shift away from shrine narratives linked with formerly independent political capitals, to shrine narratives linked to a unifying Islamisation narrative centered upon the shrine at Bulghar, and reflecting a new political and religious identity. This identity, expressed in part through shrine catalogues, did not dispute Russian sovereignty over its Muslim subjects, but accommodated it by situating the scope of the shrine catalogues within the boundaries of the Orenburg Muslim Spiritual Assembly.

Keremet Shrines and Finno-Ugrian Social Structure Mari and Udmurt social and political structure was based in large measure on a network of shrines linked to ancestral spirits. Mari and Udmurt communities were organised into what some ethnographers have termed “religious unions,” originating at the family level, and expanding to villages, groups of villages, and a larger “national” space. These “unions” generally conformed to kinship-based units, and are known among the various groups under a variety of names. They existed among all Turkic and Finno-Ugric communities in the region in differing forms, but their clearest development occurred among the Maris and Udmurts. The earliest scholarly descriptions of Mari and Udmurt religion date from the first half of the eighteenth century, and by the middle of the eighteenth century most Udmurt and Mari communities had been converted to Russian Orthodox Christianity. Some Mari and Udmurt communities resisted Christianisation, and during the reign of Catherine II (r. 1762-1795) had obtained formal “unbaptised” status, protecting them legally from Christianisation and Islamisation. The “unbaptised” formed approximately ten percent of the Udmurt population, and a full third of the Mari population. These were found primarily in the Bashkir lands. However, whether Christian or

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“unbaptised,” Maris and Udmurts retained their older shrine-centered social structure, which Russian missionaries, perhaps too hastily, understood as “pagan.” The religious and social structure of Udmurt society was historically based around the idea of the vorshud. The vorshud is a multifaceted religious and historical phenomenon, but one of its manifestations is a tutelary spirit of a descent group. The vorshud is also an exogamous patrilineal descent group typically called a “clan” in Russian-language ethnographic literature. Approximately seventy vorshuds have been identified in the sources, although today vorshud-affiliation ap2 pears to have largely died out among Udmurts. On the basis of linguistic and archeological evidence it is clear that vorshud communities had at one point also been kinship-based political entities, centered on an original fortified settlement (kar) with newer unfortified villages founded in the environs as the population expan3 ded. The ethnographer P. Bogaevskii has emphasised that the religious bond of members of the same clan is expressed above all in the veneration of a common 4 shrine. These shrines are generally divided into three categories. The smallest being the family shrine, or kua (sometimes also referred to as kuala), a village shrine, called bïdzïm kua or gurt kua, and finally a larger regional shrine known as a lud or keremet, which was usually a sacred grove. The latter shrines typically were attended by larger numbers, mainly from surrounding villages, and sometimes num5 bering as many as twelve or more. In some cases, the villages in the “religious unions” (as Bogaevskii terms them) that participated in these rituals were descended from a common ancestor, in other cases they appear to have been linked simply by geographic proximity. These larger groups of villages, often corresponding to entire districts, were often known by the term él, which was often understood among Udmurts as a religious and administrative term. For example, large-scale ceremonies took place among the “unbaptised” Udmurt communities of Perm’ province and northern Bashkiria. These included the chozhpin’dor vös’ (lit. “duck-bill prayer”) held in the village of Kipchak, and attended by all of the district’s Udmurt villages. Once every three years the district’s inhabitants would gather at a shrine near the village of Kirga, in Perm’ province, for the district-wide élen vös’ (district prayer, said to have 2 3 4 5

Mikhail G. Atamanov, Po sledam udmurtskikh vorshudov (Izhevsk: Udmurtiia, 2001), p. 7. Vladimir V. Pimenov, ed., Udmurty: istoriko-etnograficheskie ocherki (Izhevsk: Institut Istorii, Iazyka i Literatury Udmurtskogo Nauchnogo Tsentra UrO RAN, 1993), pp. 32-35. Petr Bogaevskii, “Ocherki religioznykh predstavlenii votiakov,” Etnograficheskoe obozrenie 1 (1890), p. 117. M. G. Khudiakov, “Votskie rodovye deleniia,” Izvestiia Obshchestva Arkheologii, Istorii i Etnografii pri Kazanskom Universitete XXX:2 (1920), p. 348; P. Bogaevskii, “Ocherki religioznykh predstavlenii votiakov,” pp. 131-132; Ioann Vasil’ev, Obozrenie iazycheskikh obriadov, sueverii i verovanii votiakov Kazanskoi i Viatskoi gubernii (Kazan, 1906), pp. 27-29.

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been last held in 1930). The ritual would last 12 days, and each day one of the villages would provide the sacrifices, and the last day the inhabitants of all the vil6 lages would gather. Similar examples of villages forming religious unions linked to specific shrines are also evident in southern Udmurtia. Near the village of Kuzebaevo there is a shrine called Bulda (Buldvös). This shrine is dedicated to the clan tutelary spirit Bulda, and is shared by four villages, Kuzebaevo, Chumali, Muvazhi, and Chernyi Kliuch (S’öd Oshmes in Udmurt), whose inhabitants perform sacrifices 7 there in succession. The same sort of relationship between kinship and shrines that we have seen among the Udmurts appears to have existed among the Maris as well. Gerhard Miller identified a hierarchy of Mari shrines already in 1733, before their conver8 sion to Christianity, and S. Bagin divides Mari shrines into three categories: private (chastnye), clan or tribal (rodovye ili plemmenye), and collective (sobornye ili obshchestvennye). Only members of the same clan would make sacrifices at the clan groves, which would be named after a common ancestor, for example, Makar9 otï, or generically called a nasïl-otï. As early as the first half of the eighteenth century these grove shrines have been identified as keremets, and are commonly asso10 ciated with tutelary spirits or clans. Indeed, connections between sacred groves 11 and kinship groups are even evident in the later Soviet era. Maris also retained a similar hierarchy of shrines. Groups of villages were known as a tishte district, which was usually named after the district’s main village. The tishte district in turn had its own sacred grove called the tishte küsoto. These associations varied in size. One of the largest, in Viatka province’s Urzhum district counted 35 villages. Several tishte communities would constitute a larger religious district, called a mer. The mer also had a tutelary spirit called mer kugu yumo. Sacrifices involving the mer were called mer kumaltïsh, and took place at a shrine called a mer oto. In the nineteenth century these infrequent gatherings could bring together as many as 500 pilgrims, and often startled the authorities, who interpreted them as political gatherings. The Soviet ethnographer V. Petrov believes that in the past the mer correspon-

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Aleksandr V. Chernykh, Buiskie udmurty (Perm’: Permskii Oblastnoi Tvorcheskii Tsentr, 1995), p. 36. N. I. Shutova, Dokhristianskie kul’tovye pamiatniki v udmurtskoi religioznoi traditsii (Izhevsk: Udmurtskii Institut Istorii, Iazyka i Literatury UrO RAN, 2001), pp. 53-54. Istoriia Mariiskogo kraia v dokumentakh i materialakh vyp. 1 (Ioshkar-Ola: Mariiskoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo, 1992), p. 448. S. A. Bagin, “Gadateli i znakhari u tsarevokokshaiskikh cheremis,” Izvestiia Obshchestva Arkheologii, Istorii i Etnografii pri Kazanskom Universitete XXVI:3 (1910), p. 263. G. Mendiarov, “O cheremisakh Ufimskoi gubernii,” Etnograficheskoe obozrenie 3 (1894), p. 36. N. S. Popov, “Kul’tovye ob”edineniia mariitsev,” Polevye issledovaniia Instituta Etnografii 1979, (Moscow: Nauka, 1983), pp. 40-41.

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ded to a political entity. There also existed “all-Mari” gatherings, usually convened in emergencies, called tünya kumaltïsh, usually held at specific shrines. The very name keremet suggests some connection between these larger FinnoUgrians clan shrines and Muslim tradition. As we have seen, keremet shrines among Maris and Udmurts are generally linked to larger religious unions comprising several villages. A vestige of these sorts of “religious unions” appears to have survived among Kazan Tatars into the nineteenth century. Among some communities of Kazan Tatars groups of villages formed the so-called jïyïn associations. If such associations were once connected to Islamic hagiolatry, they seem to have lost any such ties by the time they came to the attention of ethnographers in the early nineteenth century. Karl Fuks, who attended a jïyïn festival in 1834, describes 13 it as simply a women’s festival involving people from several related villages. Nevertheless, Muslim clerics in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries understood jïyïns to have religious significance, denouncing them as “innovations,” and trying 14 to suppress them. In their structure and organisation the Muslim jïyïns, especially among the Kazan Tatars, appear to reflect vestiges of precisely the same sort of so15 cial organisation evident in the Udmurt vorshuds and the Mari tishte associations. Among the Finno-Ugrians these associations held collective prayers at specific keremet groves, and while there is no specific connection in Tatar tradition between jïyïn associations and sacred groves, there is evidence that some Kazan Tatars were performing religious rituals at keremet groves as late as the mid-nineteenth century. In this regard, the missionary and ethnographer Ia. Koblov indicates that Muslim scholars published pamphlets in the nineteenth century denouncing 16 Muslim pilgrimage to keremet groves. Clearly, Muslim clerics viewed keremet shrines in the same way as they viewed jïyïn confederations, and it is equally clear that prior to the eighteenth century keremet shrines were an element of Muslim religious practice that was subsequently suppressed. Indeed, both Udmurts and Chuvash believed keremet shrines were of “Tatar” origin, and they had strong

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V. N. Petrov, “Ierarkhiia mariiskikh kul’tovykh ob”edineniiakh,” Material’naia i dukhovnaia kul’tura mariitsev (Arkheologiia i etnografii Mariiskogo kraia vyp. 5) (IoshkarOla: Mariiskii Nauchno-Issledovatel’skii Institut pri Sovete Ministrov Mariiskoi ASSR, 1981), pp. 143, 147-151. Karl Fuks, Kazanskie tatary (1844; reprint Kazan: Fond TIaK, 1991), pp. 122-123. Damir Sharafutdinov, “Prekratit’ vrednyi magometanskoi religii musul’manskii prazdnik ‘zien’,” Ekho vekov 2 (2005), pp. 237-242; Muhammad-Shâkir Tûqâyef, Târîkh-i Istarlîbâsh (Kazan, 1899), p. 7. N. B. Burganova, “O sisteme narodnogo prazdnika dzhien u Kazanskikh tatar,” Issledovaniia po istoricheskoi dialektologii tatarskogo iazyka (Kazan: Kazanskii Filial AN SSSR, 1982), pp. 20-67. Ia. Koblov, “Mifologiia Kazanskikh tatar,” Izvestiia Obshchestva Arkheologii, Istorii i Etnografii pri Kazanskom Universitete XXVI:5 (1910), pp. 457-458.

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Muslim associations. In any case, whatever the historical origins of keremet shrines in the Volga-Ural region, by the nineteenth century Muslims had come to recognize them as either non-Islamic or even un-Islamic, and in any case had abandoned them as shrines. At the same time, non-Muslims had come to recognize them as their own kinship-based tutelary spirits. However, if Muslims abandoned keremet shrines, they did not always abandon understanding some saints and shrines in terms of kinship. By far the most common type of Muslim shrine in the Volga-Ural region is tombs of saints located in village cemeteries, often associated with springs. Among Tatars and Bashkirs the term for cemetery, zirat, is derived from the Islamic term ziyârat, and among Muslim Tatars the idea of the veneration of ancestors and Islamic hagiolatry is inseparable. For example, the most common names of shrines take on almost a generic quality. In Tatarstan and Bashkortostan village cemeteries considered to be the resting places of saints are most commonly named izgelär ziratï, tash ghazizlär, izgelär öste, izgelär qabere, äwliyä qäbere, äwliyä ziratï, izgelär jire or yakhshïlar chekarï. These local shrines, associated with ancestral spirits and visited by local communities are in many respects analogous to the Mari and Udmurt family and village shrines, and it was common among 18 Muslims to visit these shrines during various Islamic and even secular holidays. The connection between saints and ancestors is particularly evident among Muslims in Perm’ province, where there are still large communities of “unbaptised” Maris and Udmurts. A number of Muslim villages in that province venerate a group of shrines known as the Jide ghaziz, or “Seven Saints.” These saints are identified as clan ancestors (ïrugh-qabilä bashlïqlarï) and tutelary spirits, and their tombs are 19 located on a series of seven mountaintops that surround these villages.

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Aleksandr Miropol’skii, “Kreshchenye votiaki Kazanskogo uezda. Ikh iazycheskie pover’ia, obriady i obychai,” Pravoslavnyi sobesednik 3 (1876), p. 352; Grigorii N. Potanin, “U votiakov Elabuzhskago uezda,” Uchenye Zapiski Kazanskago Universiteta 3-4 (1882), p. 277; P. Bogaevskii, “Ocherki religioznykh predstavlenii votiakov,” p. 154; N. R. Romanov, “Kul’t kiremet’ia u chuvash,” Uchenye zapiski nauchno-issledovatel’skogo instituta Chuvashkoi ASSR XV (1957), pp. 190-209. Much of our information on these local Muslim shrines, and the rituals associated with them, come from Soviet archeologists who were primarily concerned with the cemeteries as archeological sites; cf. Arkheologicheskaia karta Tatarskoi ASSR: Predkam’e (Moscow: Nauka, 1981), pp. 49, 63-4, 118, 130; Arkheologicheskaia karta Tatarskoi ASSR: Predvolzh’e (Kazan: Akademiia Nauk SSSR, Kazanskii Filial, 1985), p. 49; Arkheologicheskie pamiatniki Tsentral’nogo Zakam’ia (Kazan: Akademiia Nauk SSSR, Kazanskii Filial, 1988), pp. 68-9; Ravil Fakhrutdinov, Mondadïr bezneng babaylar (Kazan: Tatar Kitap Näshriyäte, 1992), p. 103; Arkheologicheskie pamiatniki Tatarskoi ASSR (Kazan: Tatarskoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo, 1987), p. 190; cf. also Slovar’ toponimov Bashkirskoi ASSR (Ufa: Bashkirkoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo, 1980). Ämir Fatïykhov, “Jide ghaziz,” http://www.barda-perm.narod.ru/kitaplar/tatarlar/ 7_gaziz.htm. Viewed February 2010.

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Finno-Ugrian Saints and Political Organisation The connection between shrines and political organisation is clearly defined among the Udmurts. As we have seen in the case of the vorshud clans, Udmurt kinship-based communities had at one time formed political units centered in fortified settlements (kar) that once had also contained the central ancestral shrine for the 20 vorshud clan. Udmurts also seem to have been organised in larger political formations in the era before the Russian conquest. One group of legends concerns the twelfth century Novgorodian conquest of the fortified settlement of the Vatka Udmurts (Udmurts retain legends of being divided into two tribes, Vatka and Kalmez, that constituted separate political entities). According to these legends, the Vatka Udmurts had occupied a fortified settlement near the site of the modern city of Viatka (formerly known as Khlynov, and renamed Kirov during the Soviet era). At this fortified settlement the Vatka Udmurts also maintained their kuala, or plemennoi chum as it is termed in some Russian sources. The legends relate how the Udmurts managed to save their shrine, and its holy book, and relocate it near the modern town of Glazov, but eventually had to destroy it to keep it from falling into 21 the Russians’ hands. Although the legend was recorded in the second half of the nineteenth century, it shows that at that time shrines were still potent political symbols, and remembered as such among some Udmurts. Another Udmurt political center that retained important memories for Udmurts both as a shrine and as evidence of past political power was the town of Arsk, or Archa in Udmurt and Tatar. Southern Udmurts down to the present have retained memories of a large regional shrine and a former “Udmurt capital” located on the site of the modern-day city of Arsk, in northwestern Tatarstan. The German traveler Pallas visited some southern Udmurt communities in the 1770s, and recorded a legend that the Udmurts used to have their own ruler in Arsk, until the Tatars ex22 pelled the Udmurt communities from there before the Russian conquest. According to more recent legends, recorded in the 1970s, there had once been an Udmurt prince in Arsk, where a collective prayer used to take place among the Udmurt clans. After a war with the Tatars (or Russians in some accounts) the Udmurts migrated across the Vyatka River, but some remained. Evidently several clans remained, among which the Jumya and Nörya clans were the keepers of the local Udmurt shrine, called Bïdzïm Lud, located near the Tatar village of Qazanbash. Until 20 21

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M. Atamanov, Po sledam udmurtskikh vorshudov, pp. 152-178. Pavel Luppov, Khristianstvo u votiakov so vremeni pervykh istoricheskikh izvestii o nikh do XIX veka, 2nd ed. (Vyatka, 1901), p. 7; Boris Gavrilov, Proizvedeniia narodnoi slovesnosti, obriady i pover’ia votiakov Kazanskoi i Viatskoi guvernii (Kazan, 1880), p. 152. Peter S. Pallas, Puteshestvie po raznym provintsiiam Rossiiskago gosudarstva, III:2 (St. Petersburg, 1788), p. 29.

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the 1930s, Udmurts would come for prayers to that shrine. One of the main Muslim shrine catalogues, the Tawârîkh-i Bulghâriyya, compiled in the early nineteenth century, identified the village of Qazanbash as the site of the tomb of a 24 Muslim saint identified as Îshterâk b. Bâyterâk. There is no other record of a Muslim shrine near that village, but, perhaps not coincidentally, the southern Udmurts preserved legends about an Udmurt hero-saint named Eshterak-batïr who 25 had fought against the Tatars and defeated them. Beyond shrines associated with former political capitals, Udmurts also had lud/keremet shrines, associated with saints remembered as their military leaders and protectors. They include Eshterak-batïr mentioned above, as well as figures closely connected to the vorshud shrines. Perhaps the clearest example showing the convergence between shrines, kinship, and hero spirits are the legends among the southern Udmurts connected to Mardan-Batïr. He is generally remembered as an ancestral figure, military leader, and tutelary spirit for the community, primarily belonging to the Mozhga vorshud clan. He is said to have lived near the Vala River, in Mozhga district, in southern Udmurtia, and was also known among the Udmurts as “father” (Atay). He was known as a skilled hunter and as a shape-changer, who could assume the form of bears, wolves, or birds of prey; he also had to power to shoot arrows tremendous distances. According to another legend Mardan was an Udmurt prince who lived in the village of Busurman-Mozhga (today the town of Mozhga), and had three sons, Mozhga, Kinegyl, and Sibi. Later their tribe grew and it became crowded for them there. Then Mardan announced that he would remain in the original place with his youngest son Mozhga, while the two other sons would have to move. Kinegyl and Sibi moved up to the Vala River, and so the villages of Mozhga, Kinegyl and Sibi arose from these ancestors. Other legends relate that Mardan and his descendants founded eleven villages, which correspond to the territory of the Mozhga clan. It is also related that Mardan-Batïr (who was also known as Mozhga-Batïr) used to defend the Udmurts against the Maris. There are also specific shrines for these communities linked to their tutelary spirits, chief of 26 which is the shrine of Chumoytlo, associated with Mardan-batyr. The southern Udmurts retained legends about other heroic rulers who defended them against the Russians and Tatars. These include Tutoy and Yantemir, although the sources do 23 24 25 26

Mikhail Atamanov, “Iz istorii formirovaniia etnolingvisticheskikh grupp udmurtov. Arskaia gruppa,” Finno-Ugrica 1:7-8 (2003-2004), pp. 58-60; M. Atamanov, Po sledam udmurtskikh vorshudov, pp. 192-206. Kazan University Library Manuscripts and Rare Book Division, Manuscript Inv. no. 1115T, fol. 28b. D. A. Iashin, “Imena udmurtskikh fol’klornykh personazhei tiurkoiazychnogo proiskhozhdeniia,” Fol’klor narodov RSFSR (Ufa: Bashirskii Gosuniversitet, 1977), pp. 51-52. N. Shutova, Dokhristianskie kul'tovye pamiatniki, pp. 43-45; M. Atamanov, Po sledam udmurtskikh vorshudov, pp. 73-76.

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not identify specific shrines associated with them. In addition to these, there are a number of legends from the Cheptsa Valley associated with a number of hero spirits, such as Idna-batyr, Dondi-batyr, and others associated with former fortified 28 clan settlements. The conceptualisation of hero and clan tutelary spirits among the Maris followed a similar pattern to that among the Udmurts, except that Mari shrines connected to hero spirits do not appear to have been associated with memories of former political capitals. This may be because Maris did not possess the same sort of fortified clan settlements as had developed among the Udmurts, or because before the Russian conquest Mari political structure differed from that of the Udmurts. At the same time, while Udmurts to not appear to have had shrines that extended beyond the “tribal level,” as those of Vatka Udmurts, we find among the Maris “universal” hero-shrines visited by all Mari communities. One of these Mari spirits is Sultan Keremet, whose tomb figures prominently as a pilgrimage site among the Maris of Bashkiria and the Ural Mountains. There are numerous groves associated with this figure, the most prominent pilgrimage site out of which is a grove called Sultan Shügar Oto (the grove of Sultan’s tomb) located near the village of Kugu Sokaza, in Bashkiria. Sultan Keremet is remembered as a having been a Mari smith who defended the Maris from the Russians, Tatars, 29 and Bashkirs. He is also venerated among Maris in Nizhnii Novogorod province, at the western extreme of Mari ethnic territory. Here, among Christian Maris, he is known as Keremet Surtan, and is also remembered as a tutelary spirit, and as a 30 “Mari god,” compared to Jesus Christ. Mordvins also venerate Sultan Keremet, whom they call Sultan Keremed’ or Soltansalhta. Among the Mordvins he is re31 membered as a tutelary spirit and is invoked for protection. The wide geographic spread of shrines and rites connected with Sultan Keremet suggest it is a phenomenon of some antiquity among Maris and Mordvins. Perhaps the most important center of Mari pilgrimage is the tomb of Chïmbulat-patïr, located on the Nemda River near the village of Chembulatovo, in Kirov 27 28 29 30

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B. Gavrilov, Proizvedeniia narodnoi slovesnosti, pp. 144-147. B. Gavrilov, Proizvedeniia narodnoi slovesnosti, pp. 152-154; N. G. Pervukhin, “Eskiz IV,” Eskizy predanii i byta inorodtsev Glazovskogo uezda (Vyatka, 1889), pp. 8-12. P. Golubkin, “Chimariy veran oyrïtemzhe da ziyanzhe,” Onchïko 1 (1979), pp. 99-100; H. Paasonen, “Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Religion und des Cultus der Tscheremissen,” Keleti Szemle II (1901), pp. 208-209. N. V. Morokhin, Nizhegorodskie mariitsy (Ioshkar-Ola: Ministerstvo Kul’tury Respubliki Marii Ėl. Respublikanskii tsentr narodnogo tvorchestva, 1994), pp. 170-171; Lidiia Toidybekova, Mariiskaia iazycheskaia vera i etnicheskoe samosoznanie (Joensuu: Joensuun yliopisto, Karjalan tutkimuslaitos, 1997), pp. 123-126. Heikki Paasonen, “Mordvins,” Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics, VIII (Edinburgh, 1915), p. 844; A. N. Minkh, “Moliany i obriady mordvy Saratovskoi gubernii,” Etnograficheskoe obozrenie 4 (1892), pp. 120-121.

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province. The shrine was first mentioned in 1636 by the traveler Olearius, and in 1733 the German scholar G. Miller described it as a keremet and a major pilgrimage 32 site. Chïmbulat is known by several other names, including Kurïk Kugu Yeng (Old Man of the Hill), and Nemda Kugïza (Prince of the Nemda). In some legends he is described not only as a military and political leader, but also as a “prophet” and as an intermediary between God and the Mari people. It is believed that he taught the Maris how to live, gave them the names of the weeks and days, and taught them how to count. As with Sultan-Keremet, Maris believed that Chïmbulat 33 would come back from the dead to aid the Maris in times of crisis. Another major pilgrimage site for the Maris which is associated with a hero spirit is the tomb of Akhpatïr, today located in the Malmyzh region of Kirov province, near the village of Kitiakovo. Akhpatïr is described as a heroic defender of the Maris in their struggles against the Udmurts and Tatars. His tomb is a pil34 grimage site and he is defined in clear terms as a tutelary spirit. In the village of Aday (Aday Chirmesh), formerly located in Vyatka Province, Muslims venerated the tomb of a certain Shaykh Baba, who appears in several shrine catalogues as a Sufi figure. However, in the nineteenth century local Maris also would perform pilgrimages to the shrine, calling the saint buried there “Shikvava,” and identifying him as the brother of the unambiguously Mari hero spirit Akhpatïr. As a means of reinforcing the Muslims’ “claim” on the saint, when a Russian ethnographer visited the shrine in 1879, the village imam made a point of showing that Shaykh Baba’s 35 name featured in the Tawârîkh-i Bulghâriyya, a local shrine catalogue. The village of Aday was a Muslim village in the nineteenth century, although its other name in Muslim sources, Aday Chirmesh, suggests that it had probably once been a Mari settlement. The village may have an even deeper connection to Mari tutelary spirits, as the German traveler Georgi, writing about the Maris in the 1770s, re36 marks that they had once had a “khan” named Adai. 32 33 34

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Adam Olearius, Relation du Voyage d’Adam Olearius en Moscovie, Tartarie, et Perse I (Paris, 1666), p. 283; Istoriia Mariiskogo kraia v dokumentakh i materialakh vyp. 1 (Ioshkar-Ola: Mariiskoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo, 1992), p. 448. L. Toidybekova, Mariiskaia iazycheskaia vera, pp. 126-131; N. S. Popov, Mariy veran yïzhïngzhe, (Ioshkar-Ola: Marii Kniga Izd-vo, 1985), pp. 30-33. S. K. Kuznetsov, “Chetyre dnia u cheremis vo vremia ‘siurema’,” Izvestiia Imperatorskago Russkago Geograficheskago Obshchestva XV (1879), pp. 142-3; K. A. Chetkarev, “Mariiskie predaniia o rodo-plemennykh bogatyriakh,” Uchenye Zapiski Mariiskogo Nauchno-Issledovatel’skogo Instituta Iazyka, Literatury, i Istorii IV (1951), pp. 168-169; N. S. Popov, “Chetkarev i nekotorye voprosy etnografii mariitsev,” Nauchnoe nasledie fol’klorista K. A. Chetkareva (Ioshkar-Ola: Mariiskii NII Iazyka, Literatury i Istorii, 1993), pp. 52-53. S. Kuznetsov, “Chetyre dnia u cheremis vo vremia ‘siurema’,” p. 143; N. Popov, “Chetkarev i nekotorye voprosy etnografii mariitsev,”, pp. 52-53. Istoriia Mariiskogo kraia, p. 458.

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It is clear from both Mari and Udmurt tradition that tutelary spirits and their shrines played a role in maintaining memory of a separate political history, which further helped to establish religious and communal boundaries between their communities and those of their neighbours. Similar phenomena are also evident among the Chuvash and Mordvins. Among the Maris these spirits continued to perform the same function during the Soviet era, although in a secularised manner. Chïmbulat, Akhpatïr, and others found their way later into official Soviet culture as inspiration for Mari writers and artists. For example, Chïmbulat became the subject of several literary works, and Akhpatïr became the subject for one of the first Mari 37 operas.

Muslim Shrines and Political Organisation The emergence of “Bulghar” shrine narratives in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries connected existing shrines to a specific Islamisation narrative, in this case originating at the site of Bulghar, and established boundaries that corresponded to the administrative boundaries of the Orenburg Muslim Spiritual Assembly created by Catherine II in 1788. The emergence and popularisation of these narratives suggest a new political awareness had emerged among Volga-Ural Muslims that enabled them to maintain a deeply Islamic sense of communal belonging, rooted in shrines and Islamisation narratives, but at the same time effectively Islamising their status as Russian subjects. A key element of this new political identity was the displacement of Chingisid concepts of legitimacy with a Islamic al38 ternative. However, these new shrine narratives were not made out of whole cloth, but were superimposed on existing shrine narratives that addressed Muslim political identity in a manner quite similar in political terms to the Finno-Ugrian shrines discussed above. Just as Finno-Ugrians performed pilgrimages to former capitals, as in the case of the Udmurts with Arsk, or the tombs of great leaders, we also find numerous examples of Muslim shrines and pilgrimage linked to the political capitals of Volga Bulgaria and the Golden Horde successor states, and even to the tombs of former Muslim rulers. Our main body of evidence for these sorts of shrines are the shrine catalogues of the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Clearly the authors of these catalogues consciously sought to reorient the Muslim community toward a new conception of Islamic identity compatible with the new position of Muslims within 37 38

Ocherki istorii Mariiskoi ASSR (s drevneishikh vremen do Velikoi Oktiabr’skoi sotsialisticheskoi revoliutsii) (Ioshkar-Ola: Mariiskii NII Iazyka, Literatury i Istorii, 1965), pp. 71-73; Kim Vasin, Chïmbulat Patïr (Ioshkar-Ola: Mariiskoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo, 2003). Cf. Allen J. Frank, “Islamic Shrine Catalogues and Communal Geography in the VolgaUral Region: 1788-1917,” Journal of Islamic Studies 7:2 (July, 1996), pp. 265-286; Allen J. Frank, Islamic Historiography and ‘Bulghar’ Identity among the Tatars and Bashkirs of Russia (Leiden: Brill, 1998).

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Russian imperial structures, in which the legitimacy of Russian authority over 39 Muslims was not directly challenged. However in drawing up their lists of shrines to populate a Muslim sacred territory, these authors nevertheless included some older shrine traditions that included the sacred burial grounds of some former rulers, while excluding others. Among the Muslim shrines linked to former rulers and capitals, we can first identify the shrine complex near the Russian town of Biliarsk. This was near the site of Biliar, the largest city, and probably the political capital of pre-Mongol Volga Bulgaria. During the era of the Golden Horde the site was gradually abandoned as a political and economic center in favor of Bulghar, near the confluence of the Volga and Kama Rivers. Nevertheless, the shrine of Khujalar Tawï and a nearby spring remained a pilgrimage site during the era of the Kazan Khanate and 40 throughout the imperial period. The shrine catalogues identify numerous saints 41 buried there, the most important of these being a certain Ma‘lûm Khwâja. The shrine was also a very important pilgrimage site for Kriashen Tatars, Mordvins, and especially Chuvashes. Among Chuvashes Ma‘lûm Khwâja was widely venerated as a political leader, keremet, and tutelary spirit, akin in many respects to the 42 Finno-Ugrian keremets. Another former political capital integrated into the shrine catalogues was the site of Saraychïq, located rather far from center of gravity of the shrine catalogues, and for that reason perhaps all the more significant because of its inclusion. Saraychïq was the political capital of the Noghay Horde and for a period of time for the Qazaq Khanate as well. It had also been the burial ground for the khans of the Golden Horde, and later for the Bakrid emirs of the Noghay Horde. The city was destroyed in 1581 by Ural Cossacks, who, tellingly, also defiled the royal burial 43 grounds. But the site appears to have retained sacred meaning to the area’s Muslims. The earliest of these shrine catalogues, the Tawârîkh of Walî-Muhammad 39 40

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Frank, Islamic Historiography and ‘Bulghar’ Identity, passim. In fact, it is the only shrine known to have maintained a waqf under the khans of Kazan; cf. S. Mel’nikov, ed., Akty istoricheskie i iuridicheskie i drevniia tsarskiia gramoty Kazanskoi i drugikh sosedstvennykh gubernii I (Kazan: Dubrovin, 1859), pp. 179-81. Tawârîkh, MS (St-Petersburg: SPbO IVRAN Inv. no. 3492-I), fol. 3b; F. V. Tarzimanov and Ali Rakhim, “‘Khuzialar Tauy’,” Vestnik nauchnogo obshchestva tatarovedeniia VIII (1928), pp. 174-5. V. Magnitskii, Materialy k ob”iasneniiu staroi chuvashskoi very (Kazan, 1881), pp. 68-75; Anton K. Salmin, Religiozno-obriadovaia sistema chuvashei (Cheboksary: Issledovatel’skii Institut pri Sovete Ministrov Chuvashskoi Respubliki, 1993), p. 25. Devin DeWeese, Islamization and Native Religion in the Golden Horde: Baba Tükles and the Conversion to Islam in Historical and Epic Tradition (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994), pp. 193-195; cf. also V. V. Trepavlov, “Saraichuk: pereprava, nekropol’, stolitsa, razvaliny,” Tiurkologicheskii sbornik 2001 (Moscow: Vostochnaia Literatura RAN, 2002), pp. 225-44.

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Îshân, probably composed in the Orenburg region around 1780, includes Saraychïq, 44 and names two saints there, Âydâsh Khûja and Nazar Khûja. A supplement to Tâj ad-Dîn b. Yâlchîghul al-Bâshqôrdî’s Târîkh Nâma-yi Bulghâr identifies the saint buried there as “Îdûgay Khûja,” clearly a reference to the founder of the Noghay 45 Horde Edigü. The Tawârîkh-i Bulghâriyya names no less than fourteen saints (including the followers of sahâba), their followers, and saints (awliyâ). However, with the exception of the supplement the Târîkh Nâma-yi Bulghâr, there is no explicit link between these saints and the site’s historic status. With regard to political associations, perhaps the most telling omission of the “Bulgharist” shrine catalogues is the absence of any mention of shrines in the Astrakhan region, which had retained, and continues to retain, perhaps the most dynamic shrine tradition in the Volga-Ural region as a whole. Our earliest accounts of shrines in the Astrakhan region date from the seventeenth century, however in all likelihood the profusion of shrines in the Lower Volga region is linked to the region’s political history. The region is where the capitals of the Golden Horde were located, including Saray; after the dissolution of the Golden Horde into successor states at the beginning of the fifteenth century, Astrakhan became a bone of contention between dynasts claiming authority over the former territory of the Golden Horde as a whole. The Astrakhan region even appears in Crimean sources takht il, 46 or, “the country of the throne.” This association between political symbolism and shrines was well understood by the Russians, who evidently defiled a number of shrines there in the 1560s, after their conquest of the Astrakhan Khanate in 1556, as 47 they were to do again in Saraychïq in 1581. Although the Russians built the modern city of Astrakhan on a site somewhat removed from the former Muslim capital, the Muslim community created traditions identifying a number of sites with the tombs of saints thought to have been buried there before the Russian conquest, and in a shrine catalogue devoted exclusively to the Astrakhan region, three of these 48 saints are identified within the city of Astrakhan proper. Another shrine, associated with a saint named Jigit Hajjî, is located near the site of Saray itself, not far 49 from the modern Russian settlement of Selitriannoe. It also bears mentioning that the tomb of Baba Tükles Chachli ‘Azîz is also located in the Astrakhan region, near 44 45 46 47 48 49

Tawârîkh, fol. 4b. Kazan University Library Manuscripts and Rare Book Division, Manuscript Inv. no. 1388T, fol. 13b. Amédée Jaubert, “Précis de l'histoire des khans de Crimée, ” Journal Asiatique 2ème série, 12 (1833), pp. 356-357. Il’ia Zaitsev, Astrakhanskoe khanstvo (Moscow: Izdatel’skaia Firma “Vostochnaia Lit-ra” RAN, 2004), pp. 194-195. Jahân-Shah b. ‘Abd al-Jabbâr al-Nîzhghârûtî, Târîkh-i Astarkhân (Astrakhan, 1907), p. 49; I. Zaitsev, Astrakhanskoe khanstvo, p. 193. P. S. Pallas, Puteshestvie po raznym provintsiiam Rossiiskago gosudarstva, p. 145; Jahân-Shah b. ʿAbd al-Jabbâr an-Nîzhghârûṭî, Târîkh-i Astarkhân, p. 49.

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the settlement of Mashaik. In Islamisation legends Baba Tükles is connected with Uzbek Khan, the ruler of the Golden Horde, and both Baba Tükles and Uzbek Khan are remembered as the Islamizers of the Golden Horde, and of the nomadic communities that constituted it, thereby constituting a separate tradition from the 50 Bulghar conversion narrative. Perhaps the exclusion of Astrakhan from the “Bulgharist” shrine catalogues was a way of sidelining a rival, and Chingisid, conversion narrative. The city of Kazan also appears to have retained some of its sacred political symbolism, although this aspect is also absent from the Bulgharist shrine catalogues. Just as with the city of Astrakhan, Muslims retained traditions that placed a number of saints in the Kazan Kremlin, the symbol of political power for the city, and for the region. The shrine catalogueues generally connect with Kazan a number of figures connected to regional Sufi tradition, most notably Qâsim Shaykh al51 Qazânî. However a number of tradition, not included in the Bulgharist shrine catalogues, recognize a number of saints buried in the Kazan Kremlin. These include unidentified saints said to be buried under the Söyembikä Tower, which was 52 also called the Khan’s Mosque. A separate, albeit later, account lists several of the khans of the Kazan, as well as some Sufi figures, as being buried in the Kazan 53 Kremlin, and identifies them as saints. Finally, the compilers of the Tawârîkh-i Bulghâriyya even address the issue of Finno-Ugrian shrines, and their political associations with both Finno-Ugrians and Muslims. As we have seen, the reference to the tomb of Îshterâk b. Bâyterâk in the village of Qazanbash may represent an Islamic appropriation of the Udmurt keremet spirit Eshterak, but it is more likely that it addresses the Udmurt traditions surrounding the town of Arsk, since the Udmurt shrine in the Muslim village of Qazanbash was a symbol of the former political authority of the Udmurt rulers in Arsk. In the same manner, the compilers of several shrine catalogues include the village of Aday Chirmesh and its saint Shaykh Baba, who was also claimed in Mari tradition as the brother of the tutelary spirit and keremet Akhpatïr. 50 51 52

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D. DeWeese, Islamization and Native Religion, passim. Cf. Allen J. Frank, “Qāsim Shaykh al-Qazānī: a Muslim Saint in Tatar and Bulghar Tradition,” Asiatische Studien/Etudes Asiatiques 58:1 (2004), pp. 115-129. Gainetdin Akhmerov, Izbrannye trudy (Kazan: Tatarskoe knizhnoe izd-vo, 1998), pp. 119-120; Hadi Atlasi, Seber tarikhï, Söyenbikä, Qazan khanlïgï (Kazan: Tatarskoe Knizhnoe Izd-vo, 1993), pp. 183-184; the Tawârîkh of Walî-Muhammad Îshân places Qâsim Shaykh’s tomb under the “minaret of the Khan's Mosque.” This tradition first appears in a very brief shrine catalogue of Kazan appended to a Sufi treatise printed in Kazan in 1897; cf. Nikolai F. Katanov, Review of Khatm-i khwâja wa du‘â-yi khatm (Kazan, 1897) in Deiatel’ 5 (1898), pp. 263-264; the work, including the shrine catalogue, has been reprinted in Kazan: cf. Khätem khuja wä doga khätem (Kazan: Iman, 1996); the review has been reprinted in N. F. Katanov, Vostochnaia bibliografiia (Kazan: Iman, 2004/1425), p. 78.

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Conclusion There is no question that during the Imperial Russian era hagiolatry among Muslims and non-Muslims in the Volga-Ural region was highly dynamic and reflected the political memories and priorities of both Muslim and Finno-Ugrian subjects in the Volga-Ural region. Beyond their significance as tutelary and ancestral spirits, and as pilgrimage sites, saints and shrines among both Muslims and FinnoUgrians were crucial to the social and political cohesion of these communities; indeed, it is among the Udmurts and Maris that the political aspect of hagiolatry appears to have been most directly articulated, largely due to their kinship-based social structure which was the foundation of their respective shrine traditions, and of their political organisation. Within these Muslim communities shrine catalogues can be viewed as political documents. At the same time it appears that the shrine catalogues emphasising a narrative of Islamisation displaced an older shrine tradition. The older tradition was linked to political leaders and political or military power, and was to some degree analogous to those of the Muslims’ Finno-Ugrian neighbours.

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311

INDEX

NB: Titles, as Hâjî, Khalîfa, Khan, Khwâja, Mawlânâ, Mullâ, Sayyid/Seyyid, Sayyida, Shâh/Şâh, Shaykh/Şeyh/Šejh, follow the name. A Abbasid 185, 280 Abdal Sufis 261 ‘Abd al-Ahad (emir of Bukhara) 227 ‘Abd al-Ahad Wahdat Sirhindî 145 ‘Abd al-‘Azîm Naqshbandî. See Sultân Khwâja, Khwâja Sultân 56, 58p, 112p ‘Abd al-‘Azîz, Khan 153, 164, 225p ‘Abd al-‘Azîz b. Muhammad b. Ahmad alHâjtarkhânî 174 ‘Abd al-‘Azîz Bukhârî 110p ‘Abd al-Bâqî al-Ansârî al-Hindî 176 ‘Abd al-Bâsit Badr 108 ‘Abd al-Ghaffâr al-Qudsî, mufti 39 ‘Abd al-Ghafûr, Shaykh 125 ‘Abd al-Ghafûr Lârî 24 ‘Abd al-Ghanî al-Nâbulsî 45 ‘Abd al-Hâdî, Khwâja 39, 111 ‘Abd al-Hamîd Dâghistânî 85 ‘Abd al-Hannân Efendi of Birjan, Mawlânâ 85 ‘Abd al-Haqq Efendi 85 ‘Abd al-Jalîl Bâb 268 ‘Abd al-Karîm b. Mîr Sâdiq 90 ‘Abd al-Karîm, Mullâ 82 ‘Abd al-Khâliq Ghijduwânî 25, 268 ‘Abd al-Latîf, Shaykh 51, 117 ‘Abd al-Latîf, Jâmî 40, 48, 122 ‘Abd al-Majîd 187 ‘Abd al-Malik Rahmat Allâh Kariev, Mullâ Shâh 85 ‘Abd al-Mu’min Khân 32, 160 ‘Abd al-Qâdir 187 ‘Abd al-Qâdir Badrân 47 ‘Abd al-Qâdir Balkhî 36 ‘Abd al-Qâdir al-Hawârî 176 ‘Abd al-Qâdir al-Tarâblisî al-Thânî 176 ‘Abd al-Qayyûm. See Qarâtâsh Îshân 81, 83 ‘Abd al-Qayyûm Kashmîrî 72 ‘Abd al-Rahîm, Khwâja 32 ‘Abd al-Rahîm, Shaykh 162pp

‘Abd al-Rahîm Bukhârî 68 ‘Abd al-Rahîm Ramadân ûghlî 174 ‘Abd al-Rahmân Bukhârî 69 ‘Abd al-Rahmân Ghubârî 51, 113 ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî. See Jâmî 29, 40, 46, 139, 260 ‘Abd al-Rahmân Samarqandî 235p, 239 ‘Abd al-Rashîd, Khwâja 32 ‘Abd al-Rashîd Sâhib 84 ‘Abd al-Sattâr’s tekke 177 ‘Abd al-Shahîd 56 ‘Abd al-Wâhid Turkistânî, Khalîfa 104 ‘Abd Allâh (Shaybanid) 116 ‘Abd Allâh Baraqî, Khwâja 116 ‘Abd Allâh Ilâhî, Mullâ. See Abdullâh Ilâhî 34 ‘Abd Allâh b. Mubârak 137 ‘Abd Allâh Nidâ’î, Shaykh 32, 69, 117 ‘Abd Allâh Sultânpûrî Makhdûm al-Mulk, Mullâ 55 ‘Abd Allâh II 32, 157, 159p Abdülaziz, Sultan 78 Abdülaziz Devletshin 86, 92, 180, 190 Abdülaziz, Nakşibendî 45 Abdülhamid II, Sultan 100 Abdullâh Âpânây 211 ‘Abdullâh Bukhârî 109 Abdullâh el-Ekber, Şeyh 37 Abdullâh Ilâhî. See ‘Abd Allâh Ilâhî 34, 111, 115 Abdullâh Mencek, Şeyh 43p Abdullâh Paşa 37 Abdullâh Qâsım 212 Abdullâh Sermest Efendi 83 ‘Abdullâh Utrârî, Mawlânâzâda 46 Abdülmecid, Sultan 77, 83 Abdulqâdir Trâblusî 213 Abdurrahman Efendi (Istanbul) 37 Abdurrahman Efendi Sadru’l-‘Ulema 51 Abdurrahman Efendi, Şeyh (Bursa) 42

312

Abdurrahman Efendi, Şeyh (son of Said Can) 43 Abdurreşîd İbrâhîm 16, 93, 97p, 175, 177, 199pp, 219 Abdüssettar Efendi 94 Abel 45 Abraham (Prophet). See Ibrâhîm 28, 254p, 266 Abû ‘Abd al-Rahmân al-Hâjj ‘Abd Allâh b. Muhammad ‘Ârif b. al-Shaykh Ma‘âdh al-Ûrî 175p Abû al-Fazl 55 Abû Hanîfa. See Hanîfah, Muhammad ibn al-Hanafiyya 168 Abû al-Hasan Kharaqânî 260 Abû Hâshim ‘Abd Allâh 289 Abû’l-Khayr 157 Abû’l-Khayrid dynasty 15, 32, 154, 156pp, 161pp Abû al-Mafâkhir Yahyâ Bâkharzî 24 Abû Muhammad ‘Abd Allâh Muhammad b. al-Fadl al-Balkhî 260 Abû Nasr al-Sarrâj al-Tûsî 141 Abû al-Qâsim 283 Abû al-Qâsim, Khwâja 30 Abû al-Qâsim al-Qushayrî, Shaykh 44 Abû al-Qâsim Kurragânî 44 Abû Sa‘îd, Shâh, initiatic descendent of Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî 82, 84, 114 Abû Tâlib 282pp Abû ‘Uthmân Hîrî 137p Abû Ya‘qûb al-Sûsî 23 Abû Yûsuf 95 Âdâb al-Murîdîn (of Ziyâ’ al-Dîn Abû alNajîb al-Suhrawardî) 22 Âdâb al-Sûfiyya (of Najm al-Dîn Kubrâ) 24 Adai, Khan 304 Adam 45 Adana 213 Aday (Aday Chirmesh) 304, 308 Aden 54, 58, 205, 220 Âdile Sultan 83 Adıyaman 107 Adriatic Sea 101 Afghanistan, Afghans 72, 76, 81, 99, 112, 114, 150, 210p, 235 Agra 26, 57, 79 Ahmad Barzanjî 213 Ahmad Bukhârî, Shaykh 34

Ahmad Dânish 227, 245 Ahmad Diyâ’ al-Dîn b. Mustafâ Gumushkhânawî 176 Ahmad Fadzli Beg 214 Ahmad Husaynûf 188p Ahmad-i Jâm “Zhanda-Pîl”, Shaykh 74 Ahmad Kâsânî. See Makhdûm-i A‘zam 30, 39, 224 Ahmad Khalîl Hanbelî 213 Ahmad Mustafâ Sâdiqî 39 Ahmad Qushâshî 30, 65, 140 Ahmad Sâdiq Tâshkandî 39p Ahmad Sa‘îd b. Abû Sa‘îd (initiatic descendent of Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî) 84, 114 Ahmad Shah Durrânî 59 Ahmad Shinnâwî 30 Ahmad Siddîq 48 Ahmad Sirhindî, Shaykh 26, 59, 66, 70p, 79, 85, 140, 144p, 209 Ahmad Yakdast Jûryânî, Shaykh 64, 67, 70, 113 Ahmad Yasawî (shrine) 253, 261pp, 267pp, 276 Ahmed Buhârî. See Ahmad Bukhârî 34 Ahmed Hazînî 40 Ahmed Şah Efendi 42 Ahmed III, sultan 35 Ahrâr, Khwâja ‘Ubayd Allâh 29pp, 34, 38p, 46, 52, 55pp, 70, 111p, 116, 154 ‘Ajam (Persian) 50, 178, 252p, 255, 269 ‘Ajamî 50 Ajia Gikay Cemiyeti (Society of the Asian Cause, Tokyo) 213 Ajvatovica 252 Ajvaz Dede 119 Ajvaz Dedo (shrine) 252 Ak-Masjid 228 Akbar 52, 54pp, 112p Akhal tribe 79 Akhpatïr (shrine) 304p Âkhûn Jân Bukhârî 85 Akimushkin (O. F.) 280 Akova (Bijelo Polje) 69 Akovalızade Ahmed Hatem 69 ‘Alam (banner) 265 Alanya 36 ‘Alawî Bâ Faqîh 213 Aleksandr Petrovich Ol’denburgskii, Prince 181

313

Âlem-i İslâm ve Jâpûnyâda İntişâr-i İslâmiyat 93, 199pp Aleppo 33, 45pp, 69 Alexandria 93, 173p, 227p, 237 Alfonso d’Albuquerque 53 Algerians 202, 210p ‘Alî. See Imâm ‘Alî 18, 116, 122, 258, 282, 285pp, 288p ‘Alî Ahmad al-Jirjâwî 206, 214 Ali Burhaneddin Efendi, Şeyh 42 ‘Alî Hamadânî 48 Ali Kuşçu 34 ‘Alî al-Muttaqî al-Hindî 30 ‘Alî Ridâ’ 16, 172p, 177, 182, 185, 190 Alî Rızâ Pâşâ 213 ‘Alî, Sayyid 62, 189 ‘Alîd 288 Alinjak 253 ‘Alîqulî 95 Alms 136 Altay mountains 96 Alyam-Bua (shrine) 267 Amîn, Mullâ 40 Amîr Haydar 66, 225, 236p Amîn al-Husaynî, al-Hâjj 110 Amîr Kulâl 28 Amîr Muzaffar al-Dîn 77, 80 ‘Amr b. al-‘Âs 54 Amritsar 97 Amu Darya river 149, 152p, 162p Amul 33 Anatolia 30, 42, 50, 58, 83, 100, 105, 107, 136, 138p, 194, 210, 242, 261 Ancestor 25, 78, 268 Andijan 88, 91, 94, 98, 115, 120, 177, 179, 184, 190, 262 Andijan uprising 88, 179, 190 Animism 295 Anti-colonialism. 200, 208 Anti-plague Commission 181, 190 Aqsa Mosque. See Masjid al-Aqsâ. 263 Aqsu 285, 287 Arab 33, 45, 61, 64, 68p., 71, 73p., 84pp, 96p, 108, 112, 118, 144, 147, 155p, 164, 168, 171, 175, 179, 187pp, 199, 201, 204p, 209p, 212p, 215pp, 225, 227, 236, 239pp, 244, 246, 251pp, 259, 269, 286p, 300 Arab Bureau 102 Arabian Sea 155, 205, 244

‘Arabshahîd 156 ‘Arafât (hill of) 90, 141p, 173 Ararat, Mt. 118 Arifjanov (G.), publishing house 228 Armenians 213, 229 Arsk (Archa) 301, 305, 308p Asaf b. Barakhyâ (shrine) 254 Asafkef (shrine) 258 Ashâb (companions) 278 Ashâb al-Kahf 45, 253, 256pp Ashkhabad, Astarabad 33, 74, 226pp, 235, 241 Âstâna (mausoleum, tomb) 61, 268 Astrabad 226, 237 Astrakhan 31, 41p, 94, 131, 155, 174, 236, 296, 307pp Âşûr Efendi Dergahı 42 Âşûr Mehmed Efendi, Şeyh 42 Ata Efendi 105 Atay / Father. See Mardan-Batïr 302 Athens 244 Awliyâ (saint) 265, 307 Awrangabad 38 Awrangzêb 65, 130 Aya Sofya (Church). See Hagia Sophia 40 Aybak 79 Âydâsh Khûja 307 Ayvansaray (Istanbul) 34 Azerbaijan, Azerbaijanis 162, 210, 258 al-Azhar 188, 212 ‘Azîmbâyûf, Sayyid 172, 182, 190, 195

B Bâb 213, 225, 267pp Bâb al-Baqî‘ (Medina) 84 Bâb al-Barîd (Damascus) 46 Bâb al-Wazîr (Cairo) 51 Bâb Ibrâhîm (Mecca) 65 Bâb-i Makka 52 Bâb-ı Mendeb (Bâb-i Iskender) 205 Bâbâ Hasan Abdâl 60 Bâbâ Ni‘mat Allâh Nakhjiwânî 142 Baba Tükles Chachli ‘Azîz 307p Babur 55p Badakhshan 71 Badal hajj (substitute hajj) 183 Badia y Leblich (Domingo) 108 Badr al-Dîn Sultânpûrî 64 Baghdad 28, 33, 66, 74, 80, 153p., 210, 226p,

314

236, 240, 261, 285 Bagin (S.) 298 Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband, Khwâja 14, 18, 25, 27, 29, 32, 61, 82, 89, 106, 115pp, 119p, 253, 264, 266, 270, 276 Bahâ’ al-Dîn Naqshband (shrine) 115pp, 119p, 253, 264pp, 270, 276 Baishe (oblast of Tyumen) 268 Baiyumiyya-Ahmadiyya 86 Bakirgan 253 Bakrid emirs 306 Baku 173, 213, 226pp, 235, 239, 246 Balkans 19, 199, 251 Balkan War 185 Balkh, Balkhis 29, 32, 36, 44, 52, 60, 66, 79, 82, 149p, 156p, 159pp, 166p, 210, 260 Baluchistan, Baluch 109, 252 Bâmiyân 79 Baqî‘ (cemetery) 84, 280, 282 Bâqî Bi’llâh, Khwâja 63, 66 Bâqî Muhammad 152, 161p Barâq Khan 158 Bashkortostan / Bashkiria 114, 297, 300, 303 Bashkirs 87, 184, 300, 310 Basra 80, 108, 139 Batumi 73, 173, 181, 226p, 235 Bavuddin. See Qasr-i ‘Arifân 264 Bâyazîd Bistâmî 139, 143 Bayezid, Prince 51 Bayezid I, Sultan 54 Bayezid II, Sultan 34 Bayram Ali (Merv) 253, 262 Bayramiyya, Bayramî 35 Baytur (Änwär) 271, 281, 290 Bedouin, beduin 101, 172, 214, 229 Beggar 118, 229 Begimi Kalân 56 Beirut 168, 174, 184p, 207, 235, 239, 244 Bektashism, Bektashi 122, 261 Bengal 204p, 252, 272 Bid‘a (heresy) 186 Bïdzïm kua or gurt kua (village shrine) 297 Bïdzïm Lud (shrine) 301 Bîgî (Muhammad Zâhir) 135, 264p, 270 Bijelo Polje. See Akova 69 Bilyarsk 296 Bird 286, 302 al-Biruni Oriental Institute, Tashkent 223, 235

Bistâm 153 Black Sea 181, 206, 236 Black Stone. See Hajar al-aswad 117, 141, 264, 266p, 270, 276p Bolshevism, Bolsheviks 103p, 110, 114 Bölük (Kilis) 83 Bombay 73, 75p, 79p, 89, 97, 99, 172, 181, 200pp, 215, 235, 238pp, 244 Borneo 199 Bosnia-Herzegovina 106p, 115, 118p, 251p British 80p, 84, 94, 99, 102, 110, 178pp, 182p, 186, 192, 202, 205, 207, 215, 235, 238, 249, 290 British India 186, 205, 249 Broom 264, 270 Budapest 79 Buddha 79 Buddhism, Buddhists 256, 284, 286 Bugul’ma 188 Buhara Dergâhı 80 Bukhara 10, 14p, 28, 31pp, 35pp, 40, 42p, 47, 49pp, 66p, 70, 73pp, 85, 88, 95pp, 105, 109, 112, 115p, 118pp, 133pp, 149pp, 153p, 156pp, 172, 175pp, 185, 187, 190, 199, 203p, 210, 223pp, 235pp, 244pp, 253, 264p, 276p, 286 Bukhârî (Muhammad b. Ismâ‘îl) 34pp, 42p, 46pp, 62pp, 66, 68p, 85, 109pp., 121, 182 Bülbüldere (Istanbul) 38 Bulda (spirit) 298 Bulda / Buldvös Shrine 298 Bulgaria 239, 251, 269, 305p Bulghar 186, 192, 296, 305pp, 310 Burckhardt (Johann Ludwig) 74, 129 Burma 244 Bursa 34pp, 42p, 113, 121, 145p Burton (Audrey) 151 Burton (Richard) 45 Buryatia 199 Busurman-Mozhga. See Mozhga 302 Buya Mazar (shrine) 288 Byzantine 54

C, Ç Cain 45 Cairo 50, 66, 80, 83, 94, 113, 168, 173pp, 187p, 239 Calcutta 80, 202

315

Calicut 57 Caliphate 34, 41, 55, 80p, 112 Caliph 41, 55, 89p, 94, 145, 180, 236 Çanakkale 107 Caravan (to Mecca) 45, 55pp, 97, 201, 204p, 208, 212, 229 Caravanserai 33, 112 Carullah Veliyüddin 69 Caspian Sea 41, 173 Catherine II 296, 305 Caucasus 17, 73p, 172p, 177p, 184, 199, 225, 234, 236, 239, 257 Cauldron 286p Chaghanian 29 Chahâr-jûy / Charjuy 33, 52, 150, 153, 226pp Chatli Qabar khânaqâh 81 Chechnya 114 Chembulatov 303 Cheptsa Valley 303 Cherevanskii (F. B.) 87 Chernyi Kliuch 298 Chïmbulat-patïr, Kurïk Kugu Yeng (shrine) 303 Chin and Machin 258 China 81, 98, 183, 199, 210, 239, 244, 251, 253, 258, 260, 264, 270, 283 Chinese Tartary. See Eastern Turkestan 251 Chingisid 305, 308 Chingiz Khan 278, 280 Chira 280, 285p Cholera 87, 179, 181, 205pp Christianity, Christian 110, 118, 120, 155, 180, 205p, 267, 295p, 298, 303 Chûlpân 255, 270 Chumali 298 Chumoytlo (shrine) 302 Chuvash 295, 299, 305p Chuvashov 90 Circumambulation (tawâf) 29, 138, 144p, 253p, 257, 259, 266, 270, 279 Clan 19, 87, 95, 109, 181, 269, 297pp Cloak 145 Çögeçek 98 Colonialism 200, 208, 234 Communist 255 Companions of the Prophet 45 Consulate 101, 103, 172, 176, 180, 182pp, 190, 208 Coşan (Esat) 107

Cossacks 306 Crete 24, 93, 108, 202, 224 Crimea, Crimeans 39, 100, 155, 178, 181, 207, 211, 228, 239, 307 Croatia 101 Cult of saints 104, 120, 131

D Dadur 52 Daghistan, Dagistanis 114, 210 Dahbîd 30, 72, 89, 104, 224 Dahbîdiyya 30 Dakhma 116p Dalîl (guide) 23, 130, 175, 178 Dallâllîn (Damascus) 48 Daman 53 Damascus 30, 39, 45p., 48, 59, 62, 66, 100, 111, 137, 173, 175, 185pp, 207, 236 Damghan 74 Dâr al-islâm 16, 214 Dârâ Shukûh 65 Darb al-Labbân (Cairo) 50 Dasht-i Qipchâq 157 Dâ’ûd (tomb of) 236 Dawut (Rahilä) 290 Dead Sea 282 Deccan 38, 204 De Lesseps 54 Delhi 26, 31, 52, 60, 63, 66, 72p, 79, 81pp, 113 Derun Abdal 260 Dhikr 40, 65, 67, 83p, 89, 94, 109, 145, 226 Dhû al-Kifl (tomb) 45 Dîn-i Ilâhî 59 Dîn Muhammad 50, 149, 156, 278 Dîn wa Ma‘îshat (journal) 189 Diu 53 Dîvane Hüsrev Paşa 48 Diyarbakir 236 Don river 41 Dondi-batyr 303 Dost Muhammad Bahâdur 76 Dream 39, 71, 88, 90, 97, 137, 261, 266, 282 Duberdeev 177 Dûkchî Îshân 88pp, 94, 114, 179 Dukhovskoi (S. M.) 179 Dushak 227 Dushanbe 266 Dûst Chuhra-Âghâsî 156, 163 Dutch 178p, 182, 202

316

Ferîd Efendî 209pp Feyzullah Efendi 35 Finno-Ugrians 295, 299, 305, 308p Fiqh (Muslim law) 290 First World War 98, 101p, 114p Fitna (sedition) 158 Fitrat (‘Abd al-Ra’ûf) 17, 119, 235, 246, 264p Four Caliphs 89, 145 France, French 86p, 99p, 114, 168, 182, 199, 244, 258, 265 Fraternal societies 188 Froman (Menachem) 110 Fuks (Karl) 299 Fuqarâ’. See Murîd 95

E Eastern Turkestan. See Chinese Tartary 18, 98, 157, 251, 253, 256pp, 278, 286 Ebu Eyüp Ensârî (mosque of) 36 Ebû Saîd Muhammed Hâdimî 35 Edhem Efendi 81, 105 Edigü 307 Edirnekapı (Istanbul) 34 Education 17, 188p, 199, 210, 213, 216, 241, 243pp Eğrikapı (Istanbul) 68p Egypt 17, 29, 39, 50, 69, 79, 83, 93, 100, 199, 202, 208, 210, 214, 225p, 229, 235p, 240p Eickelman (Dale) 168 Elias (the prophet) 145, 271, 291 Emin Beyefendi 209 Emir (of Mecca). See Husayn ibn ‘Alî Himmat 10, 34, 39, 51, 68p, 111, 195, 216, 227, 237, 245p, 302, 306 Emir Buhârî Tekkesi 34 Eren (îrân) 268 Eritrea / Habeş 68 Ertegün (Nesuhi) 105 Erzurum 74, 237 Eshterak-batïr 302 Ethiopia 38, 81 European colonial powers 202 European culture 244 Europeans 168, 206, 208 Evliyâ Çelebi 51, 113, 124 Eyüp (Istanbul) 33, 35p, 69

G

F Fadl Allah 253 Fadlallâh b. Ruzbihân Khunjî Isfahânî 262 Fakhr al-Dîn Ahmadî, Hâjî 74 Falîslâr (policemen) 228 Fard (obligatory religious act) 269 Fasting 136 Fatehpur Sikri 55, 57p Fatih (Istanbul) 34, 39, 69, 106, 124 Fatih Camii 69 Fâtih Karîmî 185 Fatih Mehmet, sultan 39, 111 Fâtima Sultân Khânqâsi (Istanbul) 176 Fayd Khân al-Kâbulî 176 Feodosia 174, 181, 207 Ferghana Valley 10, 44, 50, 90, 104, 172, 246, 254, 259, 267, 289

Ganges river 79 Gansu Province 287 Gaza 111 Georgi 304 Georgia 156 Ghanî Bây 189, 194 Ghanî Husaynûf 177, 189 Ghazanfar Nahrawâlî 30 Ghazât, ghâzî (holy war) 165, 278, 287 Ghijduvan 268 Ghiyâsî (Mîr Ghiyâs al-Dîn) 71 Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî (Shâh ‘Abd Allâh) 81p, 84, 86, 113p Ghulâm Muhammad Ma‘sûm, Shâh (Ma‘sûm-i Sânî) 71 Glazov 301 Goa 54 Gökcha Lake 71 Golden Horde 305pp Golden Horn (Istanbul) 35 Gongbei (tomb) 253 Gordlevskii (V. A.) 265 Great Gongbei 253 Greece 94, 239p Grenard (Fernand) 258, 279, 282, 284p, 289 Grove, sacred grove (tishte küsoto) 297pp, 303 Gujarat 52pp, 155 Gumbaz (dome, shrine) 286 Gurt kua. See Bïdzïm kua 297 Gush Emunim 110 Güzide Ana 261

317

H Habîb Allâh Bukhârî, Hâjî 66pp Habîb Allâh Khân 287 Hadda 208 Hadhramawt 211 Hadith 22, 24, 30, 61, 187, 290 Hadrat. See Turkistan 262 Hafız Osman 209 Hafız Sadullah Efendi 43 Hagia Sophia (mosque). See Aya Sofya 228, 240 Haifa 175 Hajar al-aswad. See Black Stone 141p, 144, 264 Hâjj Amîn 93, 110 Hâjjî khâne, Hâjjî sarây (Hajji lodge) 172p, 182, 195 Hajjnâma 16p, 174, 190p, 223p, 226pp, 230p, 233p, 236, 238p, 247 Hakîm Atâ 253, 268 Hakîm Atâ (shrine) 268, 271 Hakîm Khân Tûra ibn Sayyid Ma‘sûm Khân 17, 224p, 236, 242p Hakîm al-Mulk Gîlânî 59 Hakîm Sanâ’î 262 Halide Edip Adıvar 105 al-Hallâj (Mansûr) 261 Hamada (Masami) 289 Hamadan 75, 269 Hanafi (madhhab) 39, 172, 205 Hanefî Efendî 213 Hanîfah. See Muhammad ibn al-Hanafiyya 285p, 289 Harâm 120, 208, 210pp., 216, 225, 232 Haramayn 3, 14p, 18, 21, 29p, 34p, 39pp, 43, 48, 50, 53p, 56pp, 62pp, 68, 70pp, 76, 79pp, 84pp, 90, 95pp, 103, 108pp, 112pp, 121, 125pp, 129, 144pp, 199, 201, 209, 215, 224p, 232, 251 Hârûn al-Rashîd 54 Harwala 141 Hasan b. ‘Abd al-Razzâq Lâhîjî 22 Hasan Andâqî, Khwâja 116 Hasan Qarî al-Misrî 176 Hasan al-Rûmî 50 Hasanât al-Haramayn 64p, 144 Hashemites 102 Hâshim Dahbîdî 30 Hattâba (Cairo) 50

Haydar Taşkendî, Şâh 37 Hayy Efendi 77 Hazrat-i ‘Azîzân. See Ishâq Walî 279p Hazratbal (shrine) 131, 252, 272 Health 22, 28, 205, 207p Hecheparak 258 Herat 28p, 32, 56, 66, 74, 79, 154, 159, 236 Hero 19, 302pp Hidayet Beyce 44 Hijaz 13pp, 28p, 32, 34, 36pp, 46pp, 51pp, 55p, 58, 62, 64pp, 69pp, 74pp, 82p, 85pp, 90, 92, 95, 97p, 100pp, 109pp, 113p, 118, 121, 153pp, 159, 164, 170pp, 178pp, 182p, 187, 189p, 199, 201, 204, 207, 209, 216, 225p, 235p, 245, 269 Hijaz Railway 100p, 173, 189 Hindus 57, 76 Hisar / Hisâr-i Shâdmân 40p, 66 Hisârak 71 Hogarth (David George) 102 Holland 87, 114 Horse 53, 76, 79, 226, 229, 235, 245, 247, 258 Hospice (for pilgrims) 44, 47, 50, 83, 111, 115 Hospitality 32, 44p, 48, 50, 75, 100, 112p, 213 Hubbî Khvâja 268 Hûd (tomb) 45 Hujwirî 260p Humâyûn 55p Hurufi movement 253 Husayn (son of Imâm ‘Alî) 258, 280 Husayn ibn ‘Alî Himmat. See Emir of Mecca 217 Husayn Khalîfa 104, 107 Husayn, Khwâja 217 Husayniyya. See NaqshbandiyyaMujaddidiyya-Husayniyya 104, 188p Husayniyya Madrasa 189 Husaynûf brothers 188 Husejn Baba Zukić, Šejh 115 Hyderabad 97, 201p, 204, 207 Hygiene 87, 170, 190, 208, 210p

I Iarov-Ravskii (V. I.) 179pp, 192 Ibn ‘Arabî 45, 144, 236 Ibn Hanîfa. See Muhammad ibn al-Hanafiyya 289 Ibn Qayyim al-Jawziyya 118 Ibn al-‘Ujaymî 65

318

Ibrâhîm (shrine of) 236 Ibrâhîm (Prophet). See Abraham 255 Ibrâhîm Âdîkâyif 175 Ibrâhîm b. Hasan al-Iskawabî 176 Ibrâhîm Kûrânî 65 Ibrahim Paşa, Vezir 39 Ibrahim Paşa (of Egypt) 83 Ibrat (Ishâq Khân) 235, 244 Idna-batyr 303 Idrîs I 211 Îdûgay Khûja 307 Ihrâm (garment worn in Mecca) 14, 57, 141p, 208 Ihyâ’ al-mulûk 160 Ijtihâd qapûsî (gate of innovative interpretation) 188 Imâm ‘Alî. See ‘Alî 18, 122, 258, 285, 288 Imam Aftah Mazar (shrine) 284 Imam Asim Mazar (shrine) 285, 289p, 293 Imam Äskär Mazar (shrine) 284, 288, 290 Imâm Dhabîha 278pp, 283, 288 Imâm Fattâh 281, 283, 288 Imâm Hasan 284, 288 Imâm Hasan ‘Askarî 284, 288 Imâm Hâshim 280pp, 285 Imâm Husayn (shrine) 117, 258 Imâm Ja‘far Sâdiq 18, 253, 258p, 269, 275, 278, 280pp, 285pp, 294 Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân (Ja‘far Tayyâr) 278, 280pp, 285p, 289p Imâm Mahdî Âkhir Zamân 286, 288, 290 Imâm Muhammad al-Bâqir 61 Imâm Muhammad Ghazzâlî 286p, 289p Imâm Muhammad Naqî (Imâm ‘Alî al-Hâdî) 285, 288 Imâm Muhammad Taqî (Imâm Muhammad al-Jawâd) 285, 288 Imâm Mûsâ Kâzim 18, 285, 288, 290, 293 Imâm Qâsim 280pp, 288 Imâm Qulî 149p, 153, 156, 158, 161pp Imâm Rizâ (shrine) 33 Imam Shakir Padshah 284, 289 Imâm Zayn al-‘Âbidîn 288 Imams 18, 121, 258, 278p, 281pp, 286pp Imroz island 107 ‘Inâyat Allâh Kâbqâyif 182 İncirpınarı 44 India, Indians 14, 27, 35, 38, 43, 46, 50, 52pp, 56pp, 63pp, 67, 71, 74, 79pp, 84p, 95, 98pp,

103, 112pp, 149, 153, 155, 158, 166, 168, 170, 186, 199pp, 204pp, 210p, 215, 236, 238p, 244, 246, 251pp, 264, 270, 272 Indian Ocean 53p., 99, 170 Innovation 227pp, 235, 241, 247, 299 Intercession 142 International Sanitary Conference 179, 206 Iran. See Persia 15, 31pp, 55, 66, 72pp, 79, 115, 121p, 149, 151, 153p, 156, 158, 160pp, 234pp, 240, 261 Iraq 72, 121, 251, 258, 281, 285 Irtysh river 95 Isâ (tomb of) 236, 271 ‘Îsâ al-Tha‘âlibî, Shaykh 65 Isfahan 15, 32p, 66, 153, 159pp, 226 Isfara’in 33 İsfendiyar Efendi 208 Îshân (Sufi shaykh) 19, 83, 74p, 88pp, 114, 179, 238, 306 Ishâq Bâb 267p Ishâq Walî 279 Îshterâk b. Bâyterâk 302, 308 Iskandar Bîk Munshî 151 Iskenderpaşa mosque 106 Islamisation 18p, 200, 206, 258, 296, 305, 307, 309 Ismâ‘îl Anqarawî 142 Ismâ‘îl Haqqî Bursawî (İsmâil Hakkı Bursevî) 141, 145 Ismâ‘îl Minangkabâwî 91 Ismâ‘îl Shîrwânî 27, 30, 113 Ismâ‘îl Tâlishî 30 Ismail Efendi 37 Ismail Gasprinskii 199 Ismailis 205 Istanbul 14, 27p, 31, 33pp, 45p., 49pp, 60, 62, 68p, 73, 75pp, 83, 87, 92pp, 97pp, 104pp, 121pp, 155, 168p, 173pp, 182p, 190, 192, 199, 207p, 212, 226pp, 235pp, 239pp, 244, 246 Italy 199 İttihâd-i islâm (Unity of Islam) 98, 211 İttihad ve Terakki (Union and Progress) 98 Iunusov 176 Izzeddin Efendi 93

J Jabal Abî Qubays 109 Jabbârî Khân 26 Jadidism, Jadid 17, 119, 123p, 189, 199, 214,

319

230, 234p, 239, 245p, 248 Ja‘far Dawâniq 280 Ja‘far Sâdiq (shrine) 18, 253, 258pp, 269, 275, 278, 280p, 286pp, 290, 294 Ja‘far Tayyâr. See Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân 278, 281pp, 285, 289 Jalalabad 97 Jalâl al-Dîn Dawânî 56 Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî 139, 142 Jamâl al-Dîn Pardapûsh Khwârazmî, Khwâja 53 Jâmî. See ‘Abd al-Rahmân Jâmî 25, 29, 40, 46, 56, 139, 154, 260 Jâmi‘ al-Ahmadî 48 Jâmi‘ al-Murâdiyya (Jâmi‘ al-Naqshabandî) 47 Jânî Bîk Khan 161 Jânî-Bîkid (family) 157 Jannat al-Baqî‘ (Medina) 29, 101 Jannat al-Mu‘allâ cemetery (Mecca) 51 Japan, Japanese 16, 98, 132, 199pp, 206, 210pp Jassa Singh Ahluwalia 72 Java, Javanese 85, 98, 168, 202, 210 Jazba (ecstatic state) 71 Jeddah 16, 50, 53, 68, 73, 76, 83, 86, 89, 93, 97, 101, 103, 168, 172p., 175p., 178, 180, 182pp., 190, 201, 203, 208, 228p., 235, 244p Jerusalem 14, 22, 33, 35, 39pp, 48pp, 62, 68p, 110p, 113, 121, 139, 173, 175, 207, 224p, 236, 244, 263 Jesus Christ 55, 110, 303 Jigit Hajjî 307 Jihad 22, 87 Jïyïn (association) 299 Jordan 103 Jûdî, Mt. 118 Jumya (Udmurt clan) 301 Junayd Baghdâdî 143 Juqtî Rashîd 281, 284 Jûybârî 32, 156, 162

K Kâ, Khwâja 55p Ka‘ba 14, 18, 23, 28p, 61, 64p, 81, 116pp, 120, 136, 138pp, 151, 185, 210, 221, 225, 237, 247, 251pp, 255, 259pp, 266pp, 277, 287 Ka‘ba of Khurasan 262 Kabûd Gunbad. See Kalât 79

Kabul 52, 56, 66, 73, 78pp, 97, 176, 190, 244 Kadızâde Rûmî 34 Kafilesâlâr (caravan leader) 201, 203p Kagan 237 Kahraman Ağa 68 Kalât (Kabûd Gunbad) 79 Kalenderhane 33 Kalimât-i qudsiyya (guiding principles) 25 Kalmez 301 Kama river 306 Kamâl al-Dîn Husayn Khwârazmî 155 Kamaran Island 205p, 208 Kânûnî Süleyman, sultan 31, 38, 40p, 51, 54, 113 Kanz al-‘Ummâl (of ‘Alî al-Muttaqî al-Hindî) 30 Karachi 97 Karbala 73, 121, 226, 258 Karghalik 267 Karimov (Islam) 107, 120 Karramiyya 262 Karuk Kent 284 Kâsân 224 Kashf al-Mahjûb 147, 260, 271 Kashgar / Kashgaria 18, 32, 44, 56, 93, 159, 168, 172, 177, 211, 229, 244, 246, 267, 278, 281, 285, 287 Kaşgarî Tekkesi 33, 69 Kashmir 72, 252 Kasım Bey 41 Kastamonu 49 Kazakhstan, Kazakh, Kazakh steppe 18, 85, 93, 95p, 125, 157, 178, 180, 185, 191, 210, 225, 253, 262p, 266, 268, 270, 276p Kazan 19, 73, 82, 87, 94, 96, 98, 172pp, 176pp, 187, 189, 199, 209pp, 239, 296, 299, 306, 308 Kazan Khanate 306 Kazan Kremlin 308 Kazan Madrasa 94 Kazem Zadeh (H.) 101 Kâzimayn 121, 285 Kefe (Feodosia) 41, 207 Kemalism 103, 114 Keremet (shrine) 19, 296pp, 302pp, 306, 308 Keremet Surtan 303 Keriya 279, 285p Kermanshah 226 Khabâyâ al-Zawâyâ 65, 113 Khalid (Adeeb) 185

320

Khâlidiyya. See Naqshbandiyya-Khâlidiyya 108, 176, 190 Khalîfa Husayn. See Husayn Khalîfa 104, 107 Khalvat (pilgrimage at Ahmed Yasawî tomb) 263 Khalwat dar anjuman (solitude within society) 27 Khalwatiyya, Khalwatî 48, 86 Khalwatkhâna (retreat room) 27 Khânaqâh (Sufi lodge) 24, 56, 61, 67, 74, 81p, 84, 88, 97, 113, 262, 268 Khanikoff (Nicolaj) 264 Khatm-i khwâjagân (Naqshbandî litany) 43, 109 Khâwand Dûst 56 Khâwand Mahmûd. See Shihâb al-Dîn Mahmûd 56, 112 Khawla 289 Khayr Allâh al-‘Uthmânî 16, 168, 185 Khidr 38 Khil‘at (Robe) 64, 145 Khirqa (Sufi cloak) 101 Khiva 31, 73pp, 79, 100, 161, 178, 223, 237 Khoqand. See Kokand 50, 73p, 76p, 95, 98, 100, 115, 120 Khotan 18, 239, 253, 258p, 278pp Khudâbirdî Turkistânî, Mullâ 82 Khudâyâr Khân 76, 238 Khudâyqulî of Khwarazm, Shaykh 68 Khujalar Tawï (shrine) 306 Khujand 32 Khulm 79 Khurasan 32, 40, 74, 156, 158, 161, 261p, 268p Khurâsân Atâ. See ‘Abd al-Jalîl Bâb 268pp, 277 Khusrawiyya 47p Khwâfî. See Zayn al-Dîn Abû Bakr Tâyâbâdî 28 Khwâja Âb-i Garm (shrine) 266 Khwâja Sultân. See ‘Abd al-‘Azîm Naqshbandî 56 Khwâjagân 116, 262 Khwârazm, Khwârazmians 18, 40, 43, 53, 155p, 160p, 163, 268 Khyber Pass 79 Kilis 35 Kilisli Ali Efendi 35

Kımıl Mehmed Bey 68p Kinegyl 302 Kinship 296pp, 300pp, 309 Kipchak 297 Kirazoğlu, Ömer 110 Kirey Îshân. See Muhammad Mansûr Îshân 93, 95pp Kirga 297 Kirghizstan, Kirghiz 18, 90p, 93p, 178, 185, 229, 238, 253p Kırımî Ahmed Efendi (Tatar) 68p Kirkuk 33 Kirov province 303p Kisaichi (Masatoshi) 286 Kissinger (Henry) 105 Kitiakovo 304 Kızılarbat 99 Kızılbaş 31 Kızılmurad (Istanbul) 43 Koblov (Ia.) 299 Kokand 223pp, 238, 247 Konya 36 Korea 98, 199 Krasnovodsk 17, 99, 173, 226, 228, 235, 239, 246 Krasnovodsk-Ashkhabad railway line 226, 235 Kriashen Tatars 306 Kua / kuala (family shrine) 297, 301 Kubrawiyya, Kubrawî 24p, 40, 48, 89, 155 Küchlük of Naiman (Kûshlûk Khân) 278 Küçük Ayasofya (Istanbul) 37, 76, 78, 105, 110, 112 Kufa 226p, 240 Kugu Sokaza 303 Kuhmarim Mazar (shrine) 284, 288, 290 Kunlun Mountains 286 Kurban Bayram 261 Kurdistan 156, 253 Kurïk Kugu Yeng. See Chïmbulat-patïr 304 Kütahya 36 Kutubkhâna-yi Ishâqiyya 245 Kuzebaevo 298

L Lahore 52, 60, 79, 97 La‘lizâde Abdülbaki 35 Langar (Sufi lodge) 52, 112, 284 Lantz (François) 102

321

Lawrence (T.E.) 102 Layard (Henry) 80p Lebanese 210 Lihye-i şerife. See Sakal-ı şerif 77 Lop county 285 Low (Michael Christopher) 170 Lud (shrine) 297, 301p Lunk 84

M Ma Pinyan 288 Ma’âdh, Shaykh 176 Ma‘ân 48, 102 Mâchîn 281 Madâ’in 281 Madhhab 122, 168, 184, 205, 210, 237 Madrasa 35, 46p., 62, 84, 86, 88, 94, 96p, 111, 113, 188p, 199, 223, 243, 245p Madrasa al-Dâ’ûdiyya 62 Madrasat al-Murâdiyyat al-Barrâniyya 47 Madrasat al-Murâdiyya al-Juwwâniyya 47 Magomet Magometovich Dalgat 180 Mahdi 90, 288 Mahmal processions 213 Mahmûd b. Amîr Walî Balkhî 60 Mahmud Efendi 34 Mahmud II, Sultan 76, 121p Mahmûdiyya Madrasa 97 Majdhûb 96 Makar-otï (nasïl-otï) 298 Makhdûm-i A‘zam. See Ahmad Kâsânî 30, 39, 89, 279 Maktelgâh (Fadl Allah’s tomb) 253 Maktubât (of Muhammad Ma‘sûm) 67, 70, 76 Maktubât-i Imâm Rabbânî 67, 70, 76, 209 Malâmatiyya 262 Malay, Malaysians 109, 210 Malcolm X 94 Malik Shâh Husayn Sîstânî 160 Malmyzh 304 Malta 41 Ma‘lûmât (newspaper) 174p, 182, 188 Mamluks 53 Mamlûk Zâd Muhammadsalîm 175 al-Manâr (journal) 188, 191 Manâsik al-Hajj 172, 190 Manchuria 98 Mangishlâq 156

Mannerheim (C. G.) 288 Mansûr, Sayyid 40 Mansûr Hâjjî Tarkhan Dâdkhwâh 156 Manzil (stage) 23 Maqâm (shrine) 280 Maqâm (station) 23 Maranshah (King of the snakes) 253 Maraş 37 Marathas 72 Mardan-Batïr 302 Mari (Finno-Ugric Maris) 19, 295pp, 302pp, 308p Marjânî Madrasa 96 Ma‘rûf al-Karkhî 44 Marwa (hill of) 141p Mary (Virgin Mary) 55 Mashaik 307 Mashhad 32, 52, 153, 159, 161, 163, 226, 236 Masjid al-Aqsâ 22, 48 Masjid al-Harâm 120, 208, 210, 216, 225, 232 Masjid al-Nabawî 61, 72, 81, 89, 101 Maslak al-Muttaqîn 67 Mast‘alîshâh. See Zayn al-‘Âbidîn Shîrwânî 122 Ma‘sûm-i Sânî. See Ghulâm Muhammad Ma‘sûm 71 Mathnawî (of Mawlânâ Jalâl al-Dîn Rûmî) 139 Mawarannahr 149p, 156, 161p, 242 Mawlid al-nabî (birthday of the Prophet Muhammad) 186, 189, 191 Mayeur-Jaouen (Catherine) 269 Mayhana 27 Mazandaran 28 Mazâr / mazar (tomb, shrine) 18, 29, 52, 236, 253p, 256p, 259p., 263, 266, 278pp, 283pp Mazârât-i mubâraka (blessed shrines) 29 Mazâr-i Sharîf 73, 97 McChesney (Robert) 154, 164 Mecca 16pp, 21, 28pp, 38, 40p, 43, 46, 48, 51pp, 56pp, 62pp, 68p, 74, 80pp, 89p, 92pp, 101pp, 109, 113p, 118, 136p, 139, 141, 143pp, 151, 153p, 156, 158pp, 163p, 173pp, 178pp, 182p, 185, 187pp, 199p, 202, 207pp, 214pp, 223pp, 228pp, 234, 236p, 244p, 251pp, 259, 261pp, 285, 287 ‘Mecca of Bulgaria’ 251 ‘Mecca of the Arabs’ 254p

322

‘Mecca of the Persians’ 18, 251, 253, 255p, 259, 269 Medina 16p, 21p., 29, 33, 41, 43, 48, 51, 61, 64p, 68, 70, 80, 84pp, 89p, 93p, 97p, 100pp, 109, 113, 145, 151, 153, 158p, 173pp, 183, 185, 187pp, 207, 212p, 224pp, 236p, 251p, 263, 270, 280, 282, 290 Mediterranean 54 Mehmed IV, Sultan 68 Mehmed Efendi (qâdî) 44 Mehmed Efendi, Hacı 77 Mehmed Emin Efendi 43 Mehmed Emin Tokadî 69 Mehmed Niyâzî Efendi, Şeyh 42 Mehmed Vakıf Efendi 83 Mehmed Zahid Kotku 106 Mehmet Dede 146 Melâmiyya, Melâmî 35 Menzilinsk (Minzele) 96, 188 Menzilköyü 107 Mer kugu yumo (tutelary spirit) 298 Mer kumaltïsh (sacrifice) 298 Mer oto (shrine) 298 Merchandisation (of hajj) 202 Merchant 33, 52, 57, 67, 97, 100, 112, 118, 176pp, 188, 205 Merouân, Châh 285, 289 Merv 27p, 33, 52, 79, 153, 161, 163, 226pp, 253, 262 Mevlevî Abdurrahîm Sahib 201, 203p Mîân Muhammad ‘Âbid Jahânâbâdî 72 Mikado 206 Military leader 302 Miller (Gerhard) 298, 304 Mina 211p, 253 Mina (market of) 28, 229 Mingtipa 88pp Mîqât 141 Mîr Abû Turâb Walî 57 Mîr Muhammad-Salîm 149p, 152p, 164 Mîr Safar Ahmad Ma‘sûmî 61 Miranshah (Fort of) 253 Mîrzâ Abdurrahîm Efendî 213 Mîrzâ Beg 32 Mîrzâ Husayn Farâhânî 75 Mîrzâ Mazhar Jânjânân 73, 81 Mîrzâ Muhammad Haydar Dughlat 56, 259 Mîrzâ Sâ’ib-i Tabrîzî 66 Mirza Salekh Mukhammed Karimov 176

Mîzâb al-Rahma 117 Mocha 64 Modernity, Modernist 17, 212, 214, 223, 229, 264 Mongolia 98 Montenegro 69 Mordvins 295, 303, 305p Morocco, Moroccan 202, 210, 252 Mosul 33, 209 Moulvi Barakatullah 214 Mountain 45, 96, 118, 251, 286, 300, 303 Mozhga (vorshud clan) 302 Mozhga-Batïr. See Mardan-Batïr 302 Mozhga district 302 Mu’ta 282 Mubayyidhî 267pp Mudarris / müderris (teacher) 69, 199, 224, 246 Mughals 54pp, 63, 65, 111p Muhammad (the Prophet) 17p, 21p, 43, 45, 48, 51, 57, 61, 64p, 71, 77, 89p, 95, 97, 109, 140, 142, 151, 171, 174, 186, 191, 213, 251p, 263, 267, 270, 282p, 285p, 289 Muhammad, Hâjjî 160p Muhammad ‘Abd al-Husayn Karnâtakî, Hâfiz 115 Muhammad b. ‘Abd al-Wahhâb 108 Muhammad ‘Abduh 188, 234 Muhammad Adîb al-Husnî 47 Muhammad ‘Alî 88 Muhammad ‘Alî (prince) 214 Muhammad ‘Alî Khân 225 Muhammad ‘Ali Pașa 83 Muhammad Amîn Badakhshî 46, 140 Muhammad Amîn Bukhârî 70 Muhammad Amîn Dahbîdî 30 Muhammad ‘Âshûr Bukhârî 70 Muhammad Bâqir Majlisî, Mullâ 33 Muhammad Bek Uzbakî 70p Muhammad al-Bukhârî 49 Muhammad Dhâlilî 259 Muhammad b. Fadl 140 Muhammad Farrukh 71 Muhammad Ghazâlî 141 Muhammad ibn al-Hanafiyya. See Abû Hanîfa 289 Muhammad Hârith b. Ni‘mat Allâh b. Bîktimir b. Tûqây 187 Muhammad Husayn Khwâfî 30 Muhammad Islâm Jûybârî 39

323

Muhammad Jân Bâjawrî 82p, 114 Muhammad b. Kamâl al-Dîn of Tashkent, Shaykh 40 Muhammad Khân, Hâjî 31 Muhammad Khudâbanda 159 Muhammad Khwârizmî 146 Muhammad Kurd ‘Alî 48 Muhammad Lâhûrî, Darvîsh 52 Muhammad Mansûr Îshân. See Kirey Îshân 95 Muhammad Ma‘sûm, Khwâja 60pp, 70p, 76, 81, 113, 121, 144p Muhammad Ma‘sûm al-Hindî al-Fârûqî, alShaykh. 176 Muhammad Ma‘sûm “al-‘Urwat al-Wuthqâ”, Khwâja. See Muhammad Ma‘sûm 60 Muhammad Mazhar 84p, 97p, 114 Muhammad Mîân, Shaykh 62 Muhammad b. Mughulbây 48 Muhammad Murâd (of Sarash) 81, 83 Muhammad / Muhammed Murâd (Ramzî) 85, 96pp, 176, 208pp, 216 Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî (Shâmî) 35p, 42, 46p, 62pp, 66p, 69p Muhammad Naqshband 63 Muhammad Naqshband-i Sânî, Khwâja 70 Muhammad Pârsâ, Khwâja 27p, 116 Muhammad Pârsâ Efendi 77, 80 Muhammad Qâzî 30 Muhammad Sâbir Jân Hasanî 100 Muhammad Sâdiq 70 Muhammad Sâdiq, Khwâja 59 Muhammad Sa‘îd al-Hindî 176 Muhammad Sa‘îd Khâzin al-Rahma 60 Muhammad Sa‘îd Sirhindî 140 Muhammad Sâlih Tâshkandî 227p Muhammadî b. Sâlih al-‘Umarî 174, 187 Muhammad Sâlih al-Uzbakî 49 Muhammad Sâlih al-Zawâwî, Sayyid 85p, 98, 114, 176, 210 Muhammad Samarqandî 69 Muhammad Shâh Qâjâr 122 Muhammad Sibghat Allâh 70 Muhammad ‘Ubaydullâh (son of Muhammad Ma‘sûm) 63pp, 144 Muhammad b. ‘Umar al-Sadr 116 Muhammad Walî 189 Muhammad Yahyâ (son of Ahmad Sirhindî) 140

Muhammad Yahyâ, Khwâja (descendant of Ahrâr) 57pp, 112, 154 Muhammad Zahir Bigiev 119 Muhammad Zubayr 70 Muhammadyâr Sultânûf, Mufti 177, 184p, 190 Muhammed, Şeyh 49 Muhammed Raşid Erol 107 Muhammed Zevavî, Al-Sayyid (mufti of Mecca) 210 Muhannâ ‘Awad al-Hadramî 65 Muhibb Kûh-mâr 284 Mu‘în al-Dîn 281pp Mu‘în al-Dîn Ahmad 56 Mu‘în al-Fuqarâ 116 Mujaddidiyya, Mujaddidî 14, 26, 35, 43, 59pp, 64pp, 81, 83p, 88, 97, 104, 108, 112pp, 176, 187, 190 Mujâwara (permanent residence in Mecca or Medina) 83, 109 Mukhâ 153 Mukhammad-Ali-Srudzhi 178 Multan 52, 97, 114 Muminov (A. K.) 289 Muntakhab al-tawârîkh 224, 236 Muqaddasî 251 Murâbitûn 108 Murâd Buhârî Tekkesi 34 Murad III, Sultan 39p, 57 Murad IV, Sultan 51p, 113 Murâd Pâshâ 47 Murîd. See fuqarâ’ (Sufi student, disciple) 24, 34, 36, 38p, 56, 70, 83p, 88p, 95, 98, 106, 121p Murray (Craig) 104 Murshid (preceptor, master) 23 Mûsâ (tomb of) 236 Mûsâ Khân, Khwâja 72, 104 Mûsâ Sayramî, Mullâ 257, 259, 280 Music 105, 186 Muslim Spiritual Assembly 199, 296, 305 Mustafa II, Sultan 38 Mustafa III, Sultan 37 Mustaqîmzâda Sulaymân Sa‘d al-Dîn 145 Mu’ta 282 Mutawwif (pilgrim guide) 178, 208, 225 Muvazhi 298 Mû-yi mubârak / mû-yi nabî (hair of the Prophet) 61, 77

324

N Nadir Muhammad 149p, 153, 161p al-Nafîsa, Sayyida 174 al-nahy ‘an al-munkar (the forbidding of evil) 90 Najaf 73, 121, 226 Najm al-Dîn Dâya 25 Najm al-Dîn Râzî 24 Najm al-Dîn Kubrâ 24 Nakhichevan 258 Nakşibend Bahâeddin Tekkesi 52 Namangan 98, 120, 177, 224, 244 Naqîb (chief, leader) 224, 236 Naqshbandiyya 14, 25, 34pp, 38, 43, 45p, 52, 59, 66, 70, 73p, 86, 93, 95, 103pp, 109, 112, 114, 190, 262, 266, 279 Naqshbandiyya-Khâlidiyya 91, 176 Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya 62, 68pp, 176, 187 Naqshbandiyya-Mujaddidiyya-Husayniyya 104 Narbuta Bey (khan of Kokand) 224 Nasaf 29 Nasïl-otï. See Makar-otï 298 Nâsır (Sharif of Mecca) 211 Nâsir al-Dîn 281pp Nâsir al-Dîn Shâh 237 Nasr al-Sarrâj al-Tûsî 141 Nasrallâh Khân 82 Nazar Khûja 307 Nemda Kugïza. See Chïmbulat-patïr 304 Nemda river 303 Nestorians 118 Netherlands East Indies 92 Nikol’skii (M. E.) 181 Ni‘matullâhiyya, Ni‘matullâhî 121p Ni‘matullâh Kirmânî, Sayyid 122 Ningxia Region 260, 287 Nişancıpaşa (Istanbul) 36 Nişanlıca (Istanbul) 42 Nishapur 32p, 137, 153p, 163, 226 Niyä Chong Mazar (shrine) 260 Niyâzî Mısrî 136 Niyâzqulî al-Turkmânî 187 Nizâm al-Dîn 50 Nizhnii Novogorod province 303 Noah (Prophet) 118 Noghay Horde 306p Northern Africa 256, 269

Nörya (Udmurt clan) 301 Nuqtî Rashîd 281, 284 Nûr Muhammad Akhtimuf 188 Nuzha (idle recreation) 22

O, Ö Odessa 73, 92, 97pp, 168, 172p, 175, 181p, 185, 195, 207, 235 Old Mada 252 Olearius (Adam) 304 Ömer Efendi. See Yamaoka 202pp, 208, 210, 212p Orenburg 99, 168, 175pp, 181, 184p, 188, 190, 236, 241, 243, 245, 305p Orenburg Muslim Spiritual Assembly 296, 305 Orsk 175 Orthodox Christianity 296 Osh 90p, 255 ‘Osmân, sultan 34 Osmân Bey b. Abdülmuîn (Sûfî Osmân Bey) 48p Osman Şükrü Bey 205p Otmân Baba 252, 261 Ottoman Empire 169p, 179, 185, 244 Ottoman government 94, 180, 189 Ottomans 31p, 34, 41p, 53p, 57p, 68, 74pp, 114, 200, 207 Oxus river 80 Özal (Turgut) 107 Özbekler Tekkesi. See Uzbek tekke 37, 42p, 75pp, 80p, 91, 110 Ozgent 269

P Paganism 295 Pahlen (Count) 92 Palestine 48, 50, 110, 199, 235, 243 Pallas (P. S.) 301 Pan-Islamism 179, 181, 200 Passport 75, 172, 175, 181p, 202, 207 Pearson (Michael) 202 People of the Cavern (shrine) 253, 256pp, 269 Perm 83, 297, 300, Persia, Persians 50, 225, 254p, 259p, 262, 269pp Persian Gulf 80 Peshawar 52, 60, 70, 73, 75, 79, 97, 235

325

Peters (F. E.) 170 Petrov (V.) 298 Phonetic (sawtiyya) method 245 Piraeus 93 Piscatori (James) 168 Politics, political 13pp, 29, 37, 55, 80, 90, 99, 105p, 110, 112, 157, 160, 164, 168p, 171, 179p, 185, 189p, 199p, 202, 206pp, 214pp, 223, 234p, 238p, 241pp, 257, 295pp, 301pp Pontianak, Sultan of 95 Port Said 93, 235 Portugal, Portuguese 53pp, 57, 99, 155 Prayer 17, 23, 29, 136, 145, 187, 204, 208, 216, 228p, 245, 254p, 267, 297, 299, 301p Prusac (Akhisar) 119, 252 Punjab 72, 81, 113, 202

Q Qadam-jâ / qadam-gâh (place of arrival) 254 Qâdiriyya, Qâdirî 113, 253 Qalandariyya, Qalandar 25, 38, 71, 259 Qandahar 52 Qapaq Asqan Känt 287 Qarâbâsh Madrasa 94 Qara Khitay 285 Qarâfa (City of the Dead) 174 Qarakhanids 281, 288 Qarqash county 283p Qarâtâsh County 283 Qarâtâsh Îshân. See ‘Abd al-Qayyûm 83 Qârghâlî 168, 173, 185 Qarghaliq 239 Qârî ‘Abdullâh 104 Qârî Rahmat Allâh Wâzih 17, 226, 235 Qarshî 97, 150 Qâsim Shaykh al-Qazânî 308 Qâsiyûn, Mt. 45 Qasr-i ‘Ârifân 89, 115, 117p, 120, 264, 266 Qawwâm al-Dîn 281, 283 Qazanbash 301p, 308 Qazaq Khanate 306 Qâzî (judge) 224 Qazwîn 154 Qibla 253, 261pp Qinghai Province 260, 287 Qirâ‘a (récitation of the Quran) 187 Qizil Qum 265 Qizilbâsh 159, 161p

Qizilyol Känt 286 Qom 226 Quarantine station 172, 174, 181, 205p Qul Bâbâ Kûkiltâsh 160 Qum Rabat Padishahim Mazar (Käptär Mazar) 283, 289 Qum-i Shahîdân (shrine) 278p, 280p Quran 21, 26, 45, 59, 94pp, 117p, 171, 186p, 191, 202, 204, 215pp, 254, 256, 269 Quraysh Sultân 279 Qurbân ‘Alî b. Murtada b. Ismâ‘îl b. Yûsuf b. Burnây 177 Qutb al-Dîn al-Hanafî 34

R Rahmat Allâh (Nazîmâ) 35, 85 Rahmat Allâh Îshân 74p Railroad (in Russia) 227 Railway 99pp, 114, 173, 189, 226, 235, 241 Rashahât-i ‘ayn al-hayât (of Fakhr al-Dîn ‘Alî Kâshifî) 25, 209 Rasul Hadizade 237 Rawalpindi 79 Rawza-yi Sharîf (Sirhind) 60p Rayy 33 Receb Efendî, Colonel 209 Red Sea 16, 53p, 205, 244 Reformism 186, 200 Reisületibbâ Nuh Efendi 36 Resting place. See Hospice (for pilgrims) 45p, 116, 300 Ribât (small fort, Sufi hostellerie) 47, 52, 97 Rifâ‘î 94 Rituals (of pilgrimage) 17, 19, 90, 136p, 146, 172p, 178, 185, 211, 213, 225, 253p, 263p, 270, 297p, 299p Riyâzat (ascetic endurance) 24 Rizâqulî Khân Hidâyat 74 Roff (William) 170 Roma 110, 244 Ross (E. D.) 279 Rostov 173, 228, 242p Royal Anti-plague Commission 181, 190 Rukn al-Yamânî 145 Rûm 38p, 62, 111 Rumelia 68 Russia, Russian 16, 31, 41p, 73, 77, 80, 82, 86pp, 90pp, 98pp, 103, 114, 168pp, 175pp, 184, 188pp, 199pp, 202, 206pp, 214pp,

326

225pp, 227pp, 235pp, 238pp, 241p, 245p, 296p, 301pp, 307, 309 Russian Muslim Student Academic Society, Mecca (Rûsiyalî Islâm talabasîning jam‘îyat-i ‘ilmîyasî) 188 Russian Consulate (Jeddah) 172, 176, 180, 182pp, 208 Russian Revolution of 1905 199 Russo-Japanese War 199 Russo-Ottoman War of 1876 80 Rustam Muhammad 150 Rûzî Bek, Hâjî 76

S, Ş Sâbirjân Saffâruf 175 Sabzawâr 153 Sa’d al-Dîn Kâshgharî 25 Sadık Efendi 81 Sâdiq, Khwâja 39p, 111 Sadrıazam Ibrahim Paşa 49 Safâ (hill of) 141p Safar dar watan (travel within the homeland) 25, 27 Safarnâma (travelogue) 174, 187, 234 Safavid 15, 22, 31p, 40, 66, 122, 149, 151, 154, 156, 158pp Said Can, Şeyh 42p Said Can, Şeyh (son of Said Can) 42p Sa‘îd Palangpûsh, Bâbâ Shâh 38 Saint. See Cult of saints 17p, 21, 24, 33, 82, 89, 104, 115, 120, 139, 254p, 264pp, 269pp, 287, 296, 300pp, 304, 306pp Saint Petersburg 208 Sakal-ı şerif, lihye-i şerife (beard of the Prophet) 77 Sakamoto (Tsutomu) 215 Salafiyya, Salafî 266 Salim-Girei Sultanov, Khadzhi (alias Muhammadyâr Sultânûf). See Muhammadyâr Sultânûf 177, 185 Salonica 98 Samâ‘ (dance) 58 Samara 173, 188, 227 Samarkand 29pp, 34, 37p., 40pp, 52, 56, 62, 66, 72p, 75, 97, 99, 115, 121, 157, 164, 177, 228, 239, 244p, 260 Samarra 240, 285 Sang-i murâd (Stone of desire) 117, 264 Sâqmârî 175, 185

Sarakhs 27, 33, 52, 226 Sarash 83p Saray 155, 307 Saraychïq 19, 296, 306p Sarts 177, 185, 191 Saudi Kingdom, Saudi Arabia 102p, 108p Sa‘y (running ritual at Mecca) 208 Sayf al-Dîn Bâkharzî 24 Sayr-i âfâqî (voyaging across the horizons) 26p Sayr-i anfusî (voyaging within the states of the self) 26p Science 69, 86, 102, 189, 211p, 223p, 245 Sderot 111 Sebastian of Portugal 54 Sebastopol / Sevastopol 73, 99, 173p, 181, 243, 228p Seifuddin 177 Selim I (Yavuz), Sultan 34, 36, 46 Selim II, Sultan 40p Selitriannoe 307 Selmân Reis 53 Semipalatinsk 85, 236 Şemsi Paşa 69 Senegal 252 Sepoy Mutiny of 1857-58 179 Seven Saints (Jide ghaziz) 300 Seven Sleepers (shrine). See Ashâb al-Kahf / People of the Cavern, shrine 256pp Şeyhülislam Damadzâde Ahmed Efendi 35 Seyyid Ghazî (shrine) 261 Shafi‘i (madhhab) 205 Shagimardan Miriasovich Ibragimov 183p, 190 Shâh ‘Abbâs 32, 151, 159, 161 Shâh ‘Abd Allâh. See Ghulâm ‘Alî Dihlawî 81 Shâh Akhsî Khânaqâh 82 Shâh Ismâ‘îl 31p, 158 Shâh Mahmûd Churâs 279 Shâh Sultân Husayn 122 Shâh Wâlî Allâh Dihlawî 145 Shahjahanabad 70, 72 Shahrisabz 149, 157, 236 Shakirdzhan Ishaev 176, 180, 183p, 190 Shâm (Syria) 62, 236 Shâmî. See Muhammad Murâd Bukhârî 46 Shams al-Dîn Fanârî 29 Shams al-Tabrîzî 139

327

al-Shaqâ’iq al-Nu‘mâniyya fî ‘Ulamâ’ alDawlat al-‘Uthmâniyya 111 Sharî‘a 58, 65, 87, 168, 185, 227, 257 Sharif of Mecca 57, 153, 178p, 216 Sharif Husayn (of Mecca) 101p Shâtbî, Shaykh 174 Shaybanid dynasty 31, 116 Shaykh Baba / Shikvava 304, 308 Shi‘i, Shi’ite, Shi’ism 15, 18, 22, 29, 31, 57, 61, 74, 76, 95, 98, 110, 117, 154, 158p, 213, 258p, 267, 282pp, 288pp Shiblî 144 Shier yimamu mazha. See Twelve Imâms’ Mazârs 288 Shifâ‘ Madrasa 97 Shihâb al-Dîn Mahmûd (Khâwand Mahmûd) 56 Shihâb al-Dîn al-Marjânî 174p, 177, 184 Shikarpur 52 Shikvava. See Shaykh Baba 304 Shîr ‘Alî Khân 78p Shîr Shâh Sûr 31 Shiraz 32, 56p Shîrdil Khân 79 Shirk (polytheism) 257 Shirwân 156 Shûrâ (journal) 173p, 175, 255, 263 Siberia 83, 92, 96pp, 173, 199, 212p, 268 Sibi 302 Sîdî ‘Alî Re’îs 155 Sikhs 72 Silk Roads 256 Silsilat al-salâtîn 149pp, 154, 164 Simnân 153 Singapore 199p Sinop 175, 206 Sirât bridge 254 Sirhind 26p, 37, 59pp, 66p, 70pp, 76, 79, 81, 85, 113, 121 Şırnak 118 Snouck Hurgronje (Christiaan) 92, 179 Sofia 244 Sokollu Mehmed Paşa 37, 41 Sokolov (Karim) 103 Soltansalhta. See Sultan Keremet 303 Söyembikä Tower (Khan’s Mosque) 308 Spiritual directorates (in USSR) 104 Spring 254, 306 Srinagar 61, 252

Stalin 103p Steamboat, steamship traffic 79, 93, 99, 114p, 168, 172p, 181, 185, 201p, 226, 228p, 235, 240p Stein (M. Aurel) 279, 283, 288 Sterlibash 187 Sterlitamak 93 Stone 83, 117, 119, 141p, 143, 240, 253p, 264pp, 270, 276p Subhân Qulî 153, 226 Suez 50, 54, 73, 93, 168, 172p, 228, 235 Sûfî Allâhyâr 67 Sûfî Islâm 74 Sûfî Osmân Bey. See Osmân Bey b. Abdülmuîn 49 Sufism 22, 25, 44, 47, 93, 97p, 103, 107p, 113, 118, 120, 141, 253, 258, 260pp, 264, 269, 270 Suhrawardiyya, Suhrawardî 22pp, 89 Sulaymân 253p Sulaymân Balkhî 36 Sulaymân Zuhdî, Shaykh 109 Süleyman Efendi, Şeyh 42, 77pp, 91, 112, 175 Süleymân Şükrü Bey 214 Sultan Ahmed (mosque) 228 Sultan Keremet / Keremed 303p Sultân Khân Tûra 88, 91 Sultân Khwâja / Khwâja Sultân. See ‘Abd al-‘Azîm Naqshbandî 56p Sultân Selim (mosque of) 36 Sultan Shügar Oto (shrine) 303 Sultantepe (Istanbul) 37p, 75, 81, 105, 112 Sulûk (wayfaring) 23, 89 Sunni, Sunna, Sunnism 15, 27, 31, 33, 41, 45, 55, 61, 66, 75, 89, 95, 112, 121, 154p, 258p, 280, 290 Sûq Sârûja (Damascus) 47 Sura (of the People of the cave) 256 Surat 52p, 57, 63p, 235 Sütlüce (Istanbul) 35 Suwayqa (Damascus) 47 Svoboda (Mountain) 251

T Tabriz 31, 66, 98, 210, 237 Tadhkira-i Bughrâ-khân (Tadhkira-i Uwaysiyya) 282, 284 Tadhkira-i Imâm Dhabîhlar 281pp, 286 Tadhkira-i Imâm Ja‘far Tayrân 282

328

Tâhir Bey 213 Tajwîd (art of reciting the Quran) 187 Takbîr 24 Takiyat al-Bukhârî 50p Takiyat al-Bukhârliyya 50 Takiyat al-Hunûd 51 Takiyat Muhammad Taqî al-Dîn al-Bistâmî 50 Takiyat al-Uzbak 50 Taklamakan Desert 285, 287, 290 Talfîq al-akhbâr 209 Tâlib Efendi 175 Talish 115 Tamerlane 262 Tara 97p, 199 Târîkh-i ‘âlam-ârâ-yi ‘Abbâsî 151p Târîkh-i Hamîdî 280pp Târîkh-i Mullâzâda 116 Târîkh Nâma-yi Bulghâr 307 Târîkh-i Rashîdî 56, 259, 278pp Târîkh-i Shâh Mahmûd 281 Tarjumân (newspaper) 173, 182 Tarsus 14, 42pp, 113 Tasarruf (power over other people) 65p Tashkent 39p, 73, 77, 81, 83, 85, 92, 95pp, 99, 115, 156p, 172, 176pp, 184, 223p, 228p, 235, 239, 241 Tashkent-Orenburg Railway line 99 Tashqurghan 79 Taşköprüzade 111 Tatar Student Society, in Cairo (Tâtâr talabasî jam‘îyatî) 188 Tatarstan, Tatars 15p, 19, 21, 67, 73, 82, 85, 92pp, 96p, 114, 119, 154, 169, 171pp, 176pp, 180, 199pp, 202, 255, 263, 268, 270, 295, 299pp Tâtloq Khân 32 Tawâf. See circumambulation 94, 117, 139, 151, 208, 211, 253p, 259, 266, 268, 278 Tawârîkh-i Bulghâriyya 302, 304, 307p Tâyâbâd 28p Tâzebay (or Baytâz) Süleyman Ağa 83 Tbilisi / Tiflis 227, 235, 245p Technology 189, 217, 242, 245 Tehran 75, 226, 236p., 285, 289 Tekke (pilgrims’ lodge, Sufi lodge) 14, 35pp, 42pp, 51p, 68p, 76, 81, 86, 93, 95, 105p, 110pp, 122, 176p, 209 Termez 29

Thessaloniki 209pp Throne of Solomon / Takht-i Sulaymân (shrine) 253pp Tianfang 253 Tîmûr 57, 225 Timurids 15, 21, 34, 54p, 149, 153, 161p, 225 Tishte (association) 298p Tishte küsoto. See grove 298 Tobolsk 199 Tokyo 97p, 200p, 213pp Toqquz Khaqan 285, 289 Tört Imâm, Four Imams (shrine) 282p Trade 33, 52p, 112, 216, 226, 240p, 243 Trans-Caspian Railway 99, 173 Transoxiana 21, 32, 49, 56p, 60, 67, 268 Troitsk 96, 176, 236 Tukholka (S.) 176p Tula 173, 242 Tunisians 202, 210p Tünya kumaltïsh 299 Tûqây-Tîmûrid dynasty 15, 149, 152p, 161p, 225 Tûrakurgân 224, 245 Turbat-i Jam 32 Turfan 253, 256, 259 Turkestan 11, 17p, 73, 92, 98, 157, 172p, 178pp, 183pp, 190, 199, 226, 234p, 239, 241pp, 246p, 251, 253, 256pp, 262pp, 278, 286 Turkey 17, 43, 77, 82, 94, 105pp, 111, 113, 118, 206, 226, 234, 236, 240p, 243, 245p, 264 Turkistan 253, 262p, 267, 269 Turkistan Youth Association (Türkistan Gençler Birliği) 105 Türkistan Zaviyesi 43 Turkmenistan, Turkmen 45, 79, 225, 227, 253, 263 Tûr-i Sina (South Sinai) 207 Tûs 141, 146, 153 Tutelary spirit 19, 297p, 300, 302pp, 306, 308 Tutoy 302 Tuyoq Khojam (shrine) 256pp Twelve Imâm’s Mazârs (Shier yimamu mazha) 288 Tyumen 268

U, Ü ‘Ubayd Allâh Khân 31p, 116 Udmurts, Udmurtia 19, 295pp, 309 Udun Kingdom 284, 286p

329

Ufa 90, 96, 100, 177, 180, 184, 187p, 199 ‘Umar Sâhib 84 Ummayad Mosque (Damascus) 46 Umemura (Hiroshi) 285 Umma 122, 216 ‘Umra (minor pilgrimage to Mecca) 22, 143 Union and Progress Committee 209pp Union of the Muslims of Russia 199 Union of the Orient (İttihâd-i şark) 213 Unity of Islam. See İttihâd-i islâm 211 Ural 15p, 19, 22, 100, 168pp, 172, 175, 177, 182, 186pp, 270, 295, 300, 303, 305pp, 309p Urfa 236 Urla 207 Ûrnak (Kazan publisher) 172 Urunbaev (A.) 279 Urzhum 298 Ush 253pp Üsküdar (Istanbul) 37p, 69 Usûl-i jadîd (new method) 189 Utrârî, Mawlânâ 46, 111 Uyghur 87, 256, 260, 278, 280p Uzbek Khan 308 Uzbek tekke 36p, 104, 112 Uzbekistan 18p, 104, 106p, 120, 223, 254p, 262p, 266pp

Walî Muhammad Îshân 19, 306p, 308 Walî Muhammad Khan 149pp Waqt (newspaper) 168p, 185, 246 Warsaw 173 Wavell (Arthur John Byng) 101p Women 74, 91, 110, 227, 243, 299

X Xinjiang 18, 253, 256, 258, 260, 278, 285, 287, 290p

Y

Vakıf, Vakfiyye (endowment). See Waqf 42, 44 Vala river 302 Vambery (Arminius) 75, 81, 264 Van der Meulen (D.) 103 Vasco da Gama 53 Vatka 301, 303 Viatka (Khlynov/Kirov) 298, 301 Vienna 173, 181 Volga basin 67, 234 Volga Bulgaria 19, 305 Volga river 41, 54 Vorshud (association) 297, 299, 301p Vrbas river 118 Vyatka river 301

Yahya, Haji 76, 147, 211 Yahyâ, Khwâja 56pp, 112, 140, 154 Yahya, Seyyid 76 Yalghuz Oghul Mazar (shrine) 284, 289p Yamaoka Kōtarō. See Ömer Efendi 16, 201p, 213pp, 219 Yanbu 73, 172, 178 Yantemir 302 Ya‘qûb Beg 177, 286p Ya‘qûb Khân Tûra 177 Ya‘qûb Rashîd al-Bukhârî, Shaykh 110 Yâr Muhammad 158 Yarkand 32, 239, 259, 279, 281 Yasawiyya (Sufi order) 40, 74, 262pp, 268p Yasi 267 Yavuz Sultân Selim. See Selim I 34, 36, 46 Yazd 154 Yekçeşm Murtaza Efendi 35, 69 Yemen, Yemenites 30, 54, 103, 210p Yenihan Baba 251 Yokohama 200 Yotkan 279, 288 Young Turks 208, 212 Yunus Emre 138p Yûnus Wahbî Efendî 144 Yurungqash 285 Yûsuf (shrine of) 236 Yûsuf Hamadânî 253, 262 Yûsuf Hamadânî (shrine) 18, 253 Yûsuf Nebhânî, Shaykh 213 Yûsuf Qâdir Khân 281, 286, 288

W

Z

Wahhabism, Wahhabi 29, 103, 108pp, 113p, 186, 189, 266 Wâ‘iz Kâshifî (Fakhr al-Dîn) 25, 209 Waqf (endowment) 56, 91, 188, 287, 306

Zakariyâ Bahmâwî 30 Zakât (alms tax) 91 Zakî Jân Shâhgirâyif, Mullah 188 Zamzam spring 117, 119, 182, 213, 254, 270

V

330

Zarafshan 73 Zâwiya 47pp, 85p, 98, 109pp, 113 Zâwiyat al-Bukhâriyyat al-Naqshabandiyya 47 Zâwiyat al-Murâdiyya 47 Zâwiyat al-Uzbakîya 48 Zaydî Imam Yahya 211 Zaydis 205 Zayn al-‘Âbidîn. See Imâm Zayn al-‘Âbidîn 122, 280, 288 Zayn al-‘Âbidîn Shîrwânî “Mast‘alîshâh” 122 Zayn Allâh Rasûlif 176 Zayn al-Dîn Abû Bakr Tâyâbâdî. See Khwâfî 28p

Zaynab, Sayyida 174 Zayniyya 28 Zeki Velidi Togan 119, 238 Zhana Qorghan 269 Zionism 103, 110 Zirat (cemetery for the Bashkirs) 300 Ziyâ’ al-Dîn Abû al-Najîb al-Suhrawardî 22pp Ziyâuddin Muhammed Efendi 68 Ziyârat (pilgrimage, pious visit) 14, 17pp, 21, 24, 33, 60, 89, 115, 117pp, 151, 250pp, 270, 300 Zoroastrians (gebr) 116, 229 Zuhr al-Dîn 283

331

.Books on Central Asia. Yuriy Malikov

Tsars, Cossacks, and Nomads The Formation of a Borderland Culture in Northern Kazakhstan in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries Berlin 2011. Pb 321 pp., 978-3-87997-395-8 Melanie Krebs

Zwischen Handwerkstradition und globalem Markt Kunsthandwerker in Usbekistan und Kirgistan Berlin 2011. Pb 160 pp., Illustr., 978-3-87997-379-8 Yukako Goto

Die südkaspischen Provinzen des Iran unter den Safawiden im 16. und 17. Jahrhundert Berlin 2011. Pb 282 pp., 978-3-87997-382-8 Bahargül Hamut

Silsilat az-Zahab Kommentierung einer chagatai-uigurischen Handschrift zu den Aqtagliq Hojilar Berlin 2011. Hc 348 pp., 978-3-87997-384-2 Matthias Weinreich

»We Are Here to Stay« Pashtun Migrants in the Northern Areas of Pakistan Berlin 2010. Pb 120 pp., Illustr., 978-3-87997-356-9 Simone-Christiane Raschmann / Jens Wilkens (Hg.)

Fragmenta Buddhica Uigurica Ausgewählte Schriften von Peter Zieme Berlin 2009. Hc 648 pp., 978-3-87997-349-1 Stephane Dudoignon / Fondation Transoxiane, Paris

Central Eurasian Reader A Biennial Journal of Critical Bibliography and Epistemology of Central Eurasian Studies Vol. 2 Berlin 2011. Hc 664 pp., 978-3-87997-404-7 Klaus Schwarz Verlag GmbH • Fidicinstr. 29 • D-10965 Berlin Tel. +30-916 82 749 • +30-916 82 751 • Fax +30-322 51 83

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