Islam and Religious Change in Pakistan: Sufis and Ulema in 20th Century South Asia 2021004580, 9780367622428, 9780367634919, 9781003119364

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In this pioneering book, Saadia Sumbal explores in the context of the Pakistani district of Mianwali how reforming Islam gained serious purchase in a region dominated by Sufism. In the process she demonstrates how local struggles might be reflected in the affairs of the army and the nation. This is an excellent example of the value of district-level studies. Francis Robinson, Royal Holloway, University of London Islam’s modern transformations are all too often viewed either in doctrinal abstraction or on the cumulative large scale. Both angles easily lose sight of social facts on the ground that shape religious change in any given setting. Through a revealing case study of the Mianwali region of Pakistani Punjab, Saadia Sumbal unravels the knot of local needs, national politics and South Asia-wide reformist teachings that over the course of a century sealed the fate of customary Sufi Islam. Nile Green, author of Sufism: A Global History Richly situated in relation to previous scholarship on Sufism and Islam in South Asia, Saadia Sumbal’s study of religious change in Pakistan examines how Islamic reformism came to be established in a region where Sufism had been dominant and closely linked to local, tribal political structures. Through a well-researched case study of Mianwali in northwestern Punjab, Sumbal effectively traces the impact of state-led ideologies on local practices, and provides a detailed account of the penetration of reformist orientations into Sufism and hardening of sectarian boundaries within the context of distinctive local movements. Katherine Pratt Ewing, Professor of Religion Director, South Asia Institute at Columbia University In this important book, Saadia Sumbal renews the study of the impact of Sufism on society and politics, through her research centred on the case of Mianwali, of Pakistani northwestern Punjab. She demonstrates how reformist Islamic movements contributed, with the action of the State, to reduce the space of Sufism in religious life, arguing that they represented a form of modernity. She excels in linking the micro and macro levels in order to analyze convincingly the different processes of contestation and negotiation that led to this outcome. Michel Boivin, Director of the Centre for South Asian Studies, Paris Research University

Islam and Religious Change in Pakistan

This book examines the history of, and the contestations on, Islam and the nature of religious change in 20th century Pakistan, focusing in particular on movements of Islamic reform and revival. This book is the first to bring the different facets of Islam, particularly Islamic reformism and shrine-oriented traditions, together within the confines of a single study ranging from the colonial to post-colonial era. Using a rich corpus of Urdu and Arabic material including biographical accounts, Sufi discourses (malfuzat), letter collections, polemics and unexplored archival sources, the author investigates how Islamic reformism and shrine-oriented religiosity interacted with one another in the post-colonial state of Pakistan. Focusing on the district of Mianwali in Pakistani northwestern Punjab, the book demonstrates how reformist ideas could only effectively find space to permeate after accommodating Sufi thoughts and practices; the text-based religious identity coalesced with overlapped traditional religious rituals and practices. The book proceeds to show how reformist Islam became the principal determinant of Islamic identity in the post-colonial state of Pakistan and how one of its defining effects was the hardening of religious boundaries. Challenging the approach of viewing the contestation between reformist and shrine-oriented Islam through the lens of the binaries modern/traditional and moderate/extremist, this book makes an important contribution to the field of South Asian religion and Islam in modern South Asia. Saadia Sumbal is Assistant Professor in the Department of History at Forman Christian College University, Pakistan.

Routledge South Asian Religion Series

Terrorism and the US Drone Attacks in Pakistan Killing First Imdad Ullah The Bangladesh Garment Industry and the Global Supply Chain Choices and Constraints of Management Shahidur Rahman Globalising Everyday Consumption in India History and Ethnography Edited by Bhaswati Bhattacharya and Henrike Donner Islam and Religious Change in Pakistan Sufis and Ulema in 20th Century South Asia Saadia Sumbal Socio-Cultural Insights of Childbirth in South Asia Stories of Women in the Himalayas Sabitra Kaphle The Geopolitics of Energy in South Asia Energy Security of Bangladesh Chowdhury Ishrak Ahmed Siddiky Transdisciplinary Ethnography in India Women in the Field Edited by Rosa Maria Perez and Lina Fruzzetti Nationalism in India Texts and Contexts Edited by, Debajyoti Biswas and John Charles Ryan For the full list of titles in the series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Contemporary-South-Asia-Series/book-series/RCSA

Islam and Religious Change in Pakistan Sufis and Ulema in 20th Century South Asia

Saadia Sumbal

First published 2022 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2022 Saadia Sumbal The right of Saadia Sumbal to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Sumbal, Saadia, author. Title: Islam and religious change in Pakistan : Sufis and Ulema in 20th century South Asia / Saadia Sumbal. Description: 1. | New York : Routledge, 2021. | Series: Routledge contemporary South Asia series | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021004580 | ISBN 9780367622428 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367634919 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003119364 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Islam--Pakistan--History--20th century. | Sufism--Pakistan--History--20th century. | Ulama--Pakistan. Classification: LCC BP63.P2 S886 2021 | DDC 297.095491/0904--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021004580 ISBN: 978-0-367-62242-8 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-367-63491-9 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-11936-4 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364 Typeset in Times New Roman by Taylor & Francis Books

This book is dedicated to my parents Khalida Adeeb and Akbar Khan Sumbal with my deepest love and gratitude for all the strength and support they gave me.

Contents

A note on the transliteration List of abbreviations List of appendices List of illustrations Acknowledgments Introduction

x xi xii xiii xiv 1

1 Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam (ca. 1600–1900)

22

2 Reformist Islam and Sufism: A dialectical religious identity

47

3 Reformist Islam and Majlis-i-Ahrar’s politics of nationalism

76

4 Sectarianism and the politics of religious exclusion

105

5 Deobandi identity and sectarian cleavage

140

Conclusion

158

Appendix 1 Appendix 2 Appendix 3 Bibliography Glossary Index

166 167 168 169 189 192

A note on the transliteration

For the terms and names in Urdu, I follow the Oxford University Press Style Guide and popular usage of spellings in contemporary English publications. For names and terms in Arabic, I follow the Encyclopedia of Islam and the Muslim World, Vols. 1 and 2. To make reading easier, I omit diacritics.

Abbreviations

CMH DIK JI JUH JUI JUP MNA MPA MTKN NWFP TAS TDA

Combined Military Hospital Dera Ismail Khan Jamat-i-Islami Jamiyat Ulema-e-Hind Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Islam Jamiyat Ulema-e-Pakistan Member of National Assembly Member of Provincial Assembly Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat North West Frontier Province Tanzim-e-Ahl-e-Sunnat Thal Development Authority

Appendices

Appendix 1

Appendix 2

Appendix 3

Confidential letter of Commissioner Rawalpindi Division to Deputy Commissioner Mianwali district to take prompt action to stop Red Shirts’s anti-military recruitment campaign. Anjuman Himayat-e-Birtania, an organization of Military Pensioners of Mianwali district passed a Resolution, in a meeting presided by Amir Muhammad Khan, Nawab of Kalabagh, pledged to be loyal to the British government. Golden commendation award list of those officers and pensioners who provided services to suppress Red Shirts’s campaign, documented in the confidential fortnightly report.

Illustrations

Map 1.1

Mianwali District in the twentieth century

24

Tables 3.1 3.2

Percentage of agricultural area mortgaged during the 2nd and 3rd Settlement Statistics of sales of land

79 79

Acknowledgments

Many debts have been incurred. For help in the research done, I am grateful to a myriad of people in Mianwali for help and assistance in many ways. I thank Prof. Ziauddin Khan, Prof. Saleem Altaf, Ataullah Khan Niazi, Nazir Dervish, Anwaar, Maulana Abdul Maalik, patron of Jamia Akbaria, Hameedullah Khan, and Zubair Hussain Shah. All of them were most generous with their time, hosted me, introduced me to a wealth of locally published literature and shared a lot of material which they owned in their personal libraries. I found an open reception at khanqahs I visited. I would like to thank Maulana Muhammad Khalil, sajjada nashin, khanqah Sirajia, Hamid Siraj, Pir Zia uddin Bhorwi, sajjada nashin, khanqah Bhorwi, Siraj-uz-Zaman, and sajjada nashin Kot Chandana for their hospitality and readiness to provide me a range of hagiographic literature and bear with my questioning. A special thanks to Muhammad Illyas, Hashmat Ali, Prof. Safi-ur-Rehman, Naseer Shah, and Naeem-ud-din Shah, who shared their own written contributions which have been of particular value. Some oral contributions by Prof. Sarwar, Naseer Shah, Prof. Ziaud-din and many more were of the first importance. A very special thanks to Prof. Shahid Rasheed in the Department of Sociology at Forman Christian College University and my student Asim Shaukat who helped a great deal in finding very important online sources. Thanks are due to the most helpful staff of the Deputy Commissioner Record Office in Mianwali. I am much obliged to Malik Imran and Mr Fateh Muhammad who helped devotedly in collecting relevant sources out of huge piles of anonymous files in the archive. Equally essential to this study was the work carried out in various libraries. I am grateful to the librarians and staff of Quaid-e-Azam Library, LUMS Library, Punjab Library and Government College University Library. I owe many thanks to Professor Nile Green and Professor Bettina Robotka for their helpful feedback and insight contributed to this work. I am especially grateful to Dr Hussain Ahmed Khan who helped me at different stages of this work, read drafts, suggested changes and gave insightful comments. I am very thankful to my supervisor Professor Farhat Mehmood at Government College University. I owe special thanks to my senior colleague and Dean at Forman Christian College University, Professor Sikandar Hayat, whose

Acknowledgments

xv

support, encouragement and inspiring influence has helped me accomplish this project. I owe a special debt of gratitude to Professor Tahir Kamran for his critical reading of drafts with thoroughness, at a crucial stage in its evolution. His insightful suggestions, consistent support and presence were a great incentive to complete this project. I owe my most heartfelt gratitude to the intellectual generosity of my informal supervisor Professor Francis Robinson who inspired and guided me. His endemic presence, reading of my drafts even when he was travelling, the detailed and timely comments and suggestions on the manuscript influenced my understanding of Sufism and Islamic reformism. My husband Obaid and my daughters Alize and Maheen have been the source of much strength and comfort during the long gestation of this project. I am most grateful to my daughters for their love, patience and understanding. They looked forward to this work being completed with hope and eagerness which was my greatest motivation. I owe the ultimate debt to my parents, Akbar Khan and Khalida Adeeb, my brothers Maaz and Salman for their love and unwavering support over a lifetime. My mother parted with us during my PhD, was a fount of immense strength for me, and first introduced me to the world of books. I dedicate my work to my father and mother.

Introduction

Historically, Islam in the regions constituting the modern state of Pakistan was plural and inclusive in its character, usually expressed in forms of Sufism. During the twentieth century Islamic practice came under the spell of Islamic reform/revival. At the same time various strands of Islamic reform became involved in politics, as did resistance to it. This book is a comprehensive study of the interface between Islamic Reformism1 and Sufism2 (shrine-oriented Islam). The focus of the book is how the two facets of Islam interacted with one another and with the post-colonial state of Pakistan. The interaction between the two Islamic orientations led to age-old tradition (Sufism) in conflict with reform, represented by the Barelwi and Deobandi denominations, with the former visualized as being swept away by the latter in an era of modernization. The conflict between Islamic reformism (sharia) and Sufism (shrine-oriented Islam) which unfolded in the colonial period shifted into a more hostile engagement with the state in the post-colonial context. In this conflict, opposition to the Ahmadiyya and the enforcement of sharia brought new elements to the discourse of authority. The intra-faith rivalries between the Deobandi and Barelwi sects of Sunni Islam had shaped South Asian Islam and their Muslim identity. The controversial stance of the Deobandis on range of Sufi practices – pilgrimage to Sufi saints’ tombs, celebration of the saints’ death anniversaries, celebration of the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday – that have been central to Sufi practice in India and elsewhere triggered conflict as the Deobandi construed it as worship of the Prophet Muhammad and the Sufi saints. To counter them, Deobandi scholars had issued countless treatises, tracts, and fatwas (legal opinions) on these practices.3 In academic discourse the Deobandi-Barelwi controversy was commonly viewed as a longstanding conflict between sharia (Islamic Law) and Sufism, and so was approached through the framework of facile binaries like legal/mystical, puritan/populist,exclusivist/inclusivist, reformist/traditional, and modernity/tradition.4 The debate centred on the question of perpetual conflict and divide between mystical and legal traditions in Islamic law or sharia and Sufism. This book contests these binaries and views them as rooted in a much older Orientalist dichotomy between scholar and Sufi. Orientalists draw a contrast DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-1

2

Introduction

between ‘reformed’ Deobandis and ‘unreformed’ Barelwis. Discursive overlap between the Deobandis and Barelwis, legal, juristic, theological, and otherwise, belies facile categorizations of Deobandis as law-centred ‘reformists’ and Barelwis as mystical, shrine-oriented ‘counter-reformists.5This book investigates the process of contestation and accommodation through a case study of a district, Mianwali, of Pakistani northwestern Punjab. There is a growing literature on the spread of Islamic reform/revival in South Asia. What is lacking is a work that brings the different facets of Islam together within the confines of a single study, ranging from the colonial to post-colonial era, and which connects various strands of Islam from the macro to the micro level. The book discusses how Islamic reformism came to be established in a region where Sufism was historically grounded, how Deobandis articulated their reformist agenda and to what extent they asserted themselves, both attacking shrine-oriented traditions and tempering extreme puritanism, and to what extent they negotiated and adapted the shrine-based traditions. Carl Ernst traces the origin of Sufism as a category by British Orientalist scholars working in colonial India in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The concept of ‘Sufism’ in Orientalist sources was based on two conceptual splits that constructed Sufism’s boundaries and its relationship to Islam. Though most Muslims, including the ulema, were also Sufis or followers of Sufis. Sufism was imagined by colonial observers as having origins separate from Islam with its roots lying elsewhere.6 Orientalists such as A. J Arberry, Hamilton A. R. Gibb, and J.S.Trimingham, often viewed Islam in dichotomous terms,7 with a perpetual conflict between two Muslim factions: generally pacifist ‘Sufis’ and more aggressive and fundamentalist ‘ulema’. The concept of Sufism as a form of mysticism stemming from the individual’s relationship with God was split between legalistic Islam in the writings of late eighteenth century and early nineteenth century scholars.8 A second split came to a pass in nineteenth-century writings between the Sufi pirs and the living mendicant who was construed by colonial anthropologists/administrators as either a dangerous wanderer or a corrupt hereditary descendant of a Sufi. Orientalists also associated Sufism with shrines and magic as a cult of saints, and Sufi orders were considered as hierarchical institutions.9 On the contrary, Sufi orders including Chishtiyya debated internal reform, and expressed spiritual traditions in new forms in combination with other orders.10 The boundaries drawn between ulema and Sufi traditions became blurred as it has been claimed in the literature on reformist movements.11 Rosemary Corbett traced the perceptions of Sufism as a liberal Islamic mysticism in American transcendentalist and Protestant interest in Eastern mysticisms in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. She described the idea of Sufism as a peaceful Islam, which became established in both popular culture and American scholarship through the efforts of Wilfred Cantwell Smith and his colleagues, including Sayyid Hossein Nasr, H. A. R. Gibb, Annemarie Schimmel, and Pakistani scholar Fazlur Rahman. These scholars debated the nature of mysticism at the new Islamic studies programs at McGill and Harvard, extensively funded by the Ford and Rockefeller Foundations in the post World War II period.12

Introduction

3

Later scholars relied heavily on their ideas about Sufism that had been drawn from South Asian contexts and were shaped by Orientalist racializing stereotypes about passive South Asians and aggressive Arabs. Echoes of this split can be heard in post-colonial Islamic reformist writings that distance themselves from Sufism. Muhammad Iqbal (d.1938), for example, drew inspiration from Sufi poets such as Jalal-al-Din Rumi (1207–73), yet he also denounced ‘Persian mysticism’ based on a spiritual aristocracy of saints that was manifest in the institution of piri-muridi, which restrained the religious understanding of the people.13 This split of Sufism as mystical philosophy from local practices associated with shrine networks resonates in the disciplinary boundaries of scholarship even today. In the recent scholarship, scholars have contested these binaries and argue that reformists considered Sufi piety as an integral part of Islam, rather than viewing sharia and Sufism as discrete entities that might need to be reconciled, or as oppositional binaries.14 Many Deobandis and Barelwis see Sufi ethics as helping to properly cultivate Islamic norms and virtues. Ingram observes, even Deobandi muftis can authorize belief in the miraculous powers of dead saints, provided that the powers in question are believed to be dependent on God rather than thought to be exercised by the saint unaided.15 Drawing upon the position of Ingram, Tareen and Nizami, this book contests any neat categorization of Deobandis as pro-reform and Barelwis as antireform, and emphasizes positioning the Barelwis within the same Islamic tradition as the Deobandis, rather than as antithetical to them, as is common in the scholarly discourse. Deobandis were never opposed to Sufism. On the contrary, they have seen Sufism as an essential part of a Muslim’s moral life and inseparable from Islamic legal norms. Though the Deobandis did not reject Sufism, they did reject popular practices associated with local shrine culture. They sought to reorient Sufi practice around an ethics of pious selftransformation and to reorient veneration of the saints around their virtues, not their miracles.16 Deobandis and Barelwis are, to all intents and purposes, identical to one another: Sunni Muslims, Hanafi in law, Ash’ari or Maturidi in theology, adhering to multiple Sufi orders, and sustained institutionally through madrasa networks. This book argues reformist ideas could find space to permeate effectively only after accommodating Sufi thought and practices. The text-based religious identity coalesced with overlapped traditional religious rituals and practices. The Sufi ethos enshrined in Islamic religious tradition was arguably prevalent in South Asia from the outset. Therefore overriding that time-tested tradition could not be ruled out in so facile a manner. Thus there exists a dialectical relationship between reformist and traditional Islam which at times intersected and sometimes accommodated each other. In truth, the real fault lines between Deobandis and Barelwis have mostly to do with their divergent views on the concept of Prophetology spearheaded by Ahmed Reza Khan Barelwi (1856–1921), the founder of the Barelwi school of thought.17 He declared the elements of his Prophetology as necessary articles

4

Introduction

of faith (zaruriyat-e-din) that all true Muslims were bound to profess rather than esoteric knowledge of the Prophet’s reality. The ideology of Prophetology discussed in his famous treatise Hassam-ul-Haramain included the idea that divine sovereignty was inseparable from the authority of the Prophet as the most beloved of God’s creation. Deobandis believed in the Prophet as Insan-ekamil and his subservience to the sovereign divine. One of the central architects of this idea was nineteenth century Indian Muslim thinker Shah Ismail (d. 1831).18 Barelwis construed it as a profound slight toward the dignity of the Prophet Muhammad.19 The other ideas included the doctrine of Hazir Wa Nazir, that the Prophet was always and everywhere present, and the doctrine of Nur-e-Muhammadi (Muhammadan Light), emphasized by Ahmad Reza Khan,20 which asserted that the Prophet Muhammad is a light from God and all things were made from his light. Deobandis had a different stance over this idea – some of them believed it and others were opposed. Interestingly, Ashraf Ali Thanavi (1863–1943), a prominent Deobandi scholar, began his biography of the Prophet with Ahadith in support of this doctrine.21 The Prophet’s knowledge of the unseen (ilm al-ghayb) was another central concern of Ahmad Reza, and in this, the only difference between Deobandis and Ahmed Reza Khan was that Khan believed the knowledge was intrinsic only to God but had been extrinsically gifted to the Prophet by God in its totality. In contrast, Deobandis believed in the partial knowledge of the Prophet – what God had ordained him. The difference seems on the question of the Prophet’s ontological exceptionality. Though Deobandis had considerable space for Sufi piety in their doctrinal orientation, however they considered the Prophet as not only the source of normative teachings, but a living presence. Barelwis counterargued that divine sovereignty was inseparable from the authority of the Prophet, as God’s beloved.22 They also defended devotional practices and rituals that venerated the Prophet’s memory.23 The contrasting images of the Prophet made the Deobandi-Barelwi controversy more explicit. The Deobandi opposition to Sufism was limited to distancing itself from rituals which were not an integral part of mystic discipline, as Deobandi Islam hardly lacked a mystical dimension. The mediation of the Prophet (Shifaat) held a central position in Ahmad Reza’s worldview, and emphasised intercessionary prayers (tawassul) to the Prophet and saints.24 In a time of breakdown of traditional ties and formation of identities and authority, Ahmad Reza took the underlying commonalities between these ways of shrine-based Islam and constructed a new identity in which all shrine-based forms of Islam were united together and identified with the Ahl-e-Sunnat Wal Jamaat. According to Ahmed Reza only this jamaat was qualified to preserve the unity of Islam and Muslims, as the other denominations were divided on various theological issues.25 Ahmad Reza’s method and movement reflects a reformist disposition, the insistence on inward purity, correct conduct, the devotional attitude towards Sufism and revivalism in South Asia through love of the Prophet and the saints combined with strict adherence to the sharia. This had perfectly expressed the Sunna of the Prophet. The exceptional

Introduction

5

thing about Ahmed Reza Khan was that the popular Sufi doctrines were seldom discussed in theological and juristic terms, as he did. Protagonists of these competing narratives used strategies of exclusion, in which takfir had pivotal importance. So there existed, in fact, hermeneutical and conceptual differences on Prophetology among Deobandis and Barelwis which cannot be translated as binaries or a division between the two denominations. This intra-Muslim Barelwi-Deobandi polemical rivalry should be approached as contestation between competing rationalities of tradition and reform.26 From the beginning of the Islamic era, Muslim societies across the world have experienced a prolonged process of renewal (tajdid), spanning from 1700–1900. The ideas of renewal got their chief impetus from European conquests in the Muslim world. The immediate concern among the political elites, ulema and Sufis was to reshape Islamic knowledge and institutions compatible with Western models, a process described as Islamic modernism. These processes have been expressed in the movements of revival and reform started in West Africa, Arabia and South Asia, with its roots lying deep in the Islamic past. These movements were represented in the eighteenth century by the teachings of Muhammad Ibn’Abd-al-Wahhab in Arabia and ShahWali Ullah in India. Islamic reform emerged as a political, ideological and religious movement through the period from the mid-nineteenth century to the 1930s with Pan-Islamic sentiments. The aim was to achieve political unification of Muslims to repel foreign intervention. Jamal-ud-Din Afghani (1838–1898) was the most important proponent of Pan-Islamic ideas. The other advocates were Rifa’a al-T.aht.awi (1801–1873), Khayr-al-Din alTunisi (1810–1899), Jamal al-Din al-Afghani (1838–1898), Muhammad ‘Abduh (1849–1905), Muhammad Rashid Rida (1865–1935), ‘Abdul Rahman al-Kawakebi (1848–1902), ‘and Ali ‘Abd al-Razik (1888–1966). Another important Islamic reform movement, which held up Islam as a complete system of governance and its compatibility with modernity, was highlighted in countries like Egypt, Tunisia and Sudan where the influence of thinkers such as Hasan al-Banna (1906–1949), the founder of the Muslim Brotherhood (Al-Ikhwan-al-Muslimun) in Egypt in 1928, Syed Qutab (1906–1966), Hasan al-Turabi (Sudan) and Rashid al-Ghannoushi (Tunisia), came to be very evident. Al-Ikhwan-al-Muslimun originated in Egypt but it quickly spread its influence far and wide. Deobandi clerics maintained their Pan-Islamic outlook from the rostrum of Jamiyat-e Ulema-e-Hind. After the Mutiny (1857) uprising and its aftermath, the Muslims of South Asia were increasingly concerned with how to fashion an Islamic society without holding power. With the collapse of Muslim political authority, ulema confronted a new dilemma in defining the practical meaning of the Islamic community in India. The responsibility fell on ulema, and they embraced their role as custodians of Islam. To disseminate the central messages of the faith and to ensure the rightly guided behaviour to be the best Muslims under the new dispensation, considered to be the responsibility of every individual Muslim, whether this involved an attempt to build an

6

Introduction

ideological bridge between Islam and the West, or developing a system to ignore the colonial state, or defending Islam and Islamic institutions.27 British rule brought a general dismantling of systems and values, which hit Muslims hard. Ulema lost the state’s financial support and political and religious authority. They created institutions and practices to anchor themselves in society.28 It was in this context that the process of change manifested in various expressions: the revivalist and reformist movements of mujahidin, the Faraizis, the Ahl-e-Hadith, Ahl-ul Quran and Aligarh in the nineteenth centuries and those of the Nadwat-ul-ulama, the Tablighi Jamaat, the Jamat-e-Islami, Deobandis, Barelwis, and the Muslim modernists in the twentieth century.29 These movements were reformist/revivalist in the sense that they aimed at restoring the pristine glory of Islam, both politically and religiously, the emphasis on a purification of doctrine and ritual from all forms of accretions (bidat), on increased religiosity, perceiving Islam to be in a degenerative or threatened state. The movement of revival and reform sharpened the distinction between Muslim and non-Muslim.30 The pioneering reformist figures who introduced important trends in Islamic religious traditions during eighteenth century included Shah Waliullah (1703–62), Muhammad bin Abd-al-Wahhab (1703–92) and Muhammad bin Ali Shawkani (1759–1834).31 Wahhab was strict in his puritan drive, insisting on the unity of God (Tauheed). He believed that the Prophet and his companions were models of true Islamic practice and rejected Sufism.32 These scholars opposed the practice of blindly following the dictates laid down by the four legal schools in Sunni Islam, namely Hanafi, Shaf’i, Hanbali, Maliki. They also contested the idea of the ‘closure of the gate of ijtihad’ vis-à-vis the four schools. In contrast, Shah Waliullah who had come to be viewed as a paragon of Islamic reform, stated that going to excess in the veneration of shrines was a very grave sin but that it was not unbelief. He espoused uniformity of shariat and tariqat.33 Unlike Wahhab, he did not break with Sufi orders; instead of eliminating mystical legacy, Waliullah stressed mysticism inconsonance with Islamic Law (sharia).34 He combined theological education and mystical training as two crucial approaches to religious knowledge. Nonetheless, he disapproved of the excesses that Sufism embraced in its more heterodox forms.35 He insisted on the importance of the study of Hadith (traditions of the Prophet).36 His espousal of jurisprudence combined with consultation of Quran and Hadith enhanced the responsibility of ulema for interpreting the law to their followers.37 Following his ideas a range of scholars launched reformist movements, questioning the status of sharia under British rule in India. Haji Shariatullah’s Faraizi movement in Bengal with its socio-political content, Syed Ahmed Barelwi’s Tariqa-e-Muhammadia, with the help of his two disciples Muhammad Ismail and Abd al-Hayy, and his jehad movement were committed to resisting colonial regime and bringing about a drastic change in the religious outlook of Muslims towards strict observance of Islamic religious traditions.38

Introduction

7

The legacy of Waliullah was carried forward in Delhi by Nazir Hussain and Shah Abdul Ghani Dehlawi Muhajir Madani, a descendant of Sheikh Ahmed Sirhindi. The three prominent persons who were mentored in their religious studies by Abdul Ghani were Qasim Nanautwi (1832–79), Rashid Ahmed Gangohi (1829–1905) and Yaqub Nanautwi. Qasim Nanautwi and Rashid Ahmed Gangohi became disciples of Haji Imdadullah Mahajir Makki (1815–99), a Sufi Pir in the Chishtiyya Sufi order. These three were instrumental in setting up a seminary at Deoband near Delhi in 1860.39 They stressed the orthodox teachings of Islamic Law to be taught through a theologically oriented curriculum.40 In due course they evolved as one of the most significant Muslim groups, centred largely in North India. An affiliated madrasa of Deoband was setup in Saharanpur and named Mazahir-ul-Ulum.41 Theologically, Deobandis had purist and literalist leanings in the traditions of ShahWaliullah. They advocated a complete return to the Quran and the Prophetic tradition (Sunna). They did not relinquish their connection with Sufi orders yet they opposed certain aspects of Sufism which included pilgrimage to saints’ tombs, the annual death rites of a saint (Urs), and celebration of Prophet’s birth (maulud). Deoband represented the idea that the Muslim community’s beliefs and practices had to be reordered in the light of foundational texts. The underlying aim was to reinvigorate Islamic identity to cope with the challenges of dislocation of life under colonial rule. The second orientation that had come to occupy a large space in modern South Asian Sunnism was associated with Ahmed Reza Khan Bareilly, a town in northern India.42 His followers known as Barelwis stood in marked contrast to the Deobandis. They had their own madrasas but they were best known for Sufi and devotional practices, centred on saints and shrines. Despite all their differences, Ahmed Reza Khan had denied on many occasions the possibility of accessing mystical truth without a firm grounding in the ethical teachings of the law. Usha Sanyal shows that adherence to sharia norms took precedence over all else in the thought of Ahmad Reza Khan.43 The story of Islam’s dissemination in South Asia epitomized the convergence of various strands represented by the Islamic and the indigenous cultural ethos, manifested in multiple Sufi Orders. The interaction of the two always produced either assimilation and accommodation or reaction. Accommodation to the local practices produced a ‘plural ethos’44 or ‘tolerant’ version of Islam that emphasized the importance of Sufi shrines and shrine-based practices.45 Sufis acquired centrality in a peculiar socio-economic and political context of tribal Mianwali. Settlement and control over land and resources of life in a competitive and hostile environment, in the face of threats in the form of a continuous influx of migrating tribes, posed a serious challenge.46 These issues gave rise to complex systems of inter-village and inter-tribal relationships, which led to intense competitions between tribes. Central to their vast dispersal and influence were the ways in which they served to personify an Islamic moral cosmic order amidst the local realities. The tribe was based on the genealogical concept of social structure, so the values and attitudes of a tribal society were served by the tribal holy man.47 Hence the continuing viability of the tribal structure and its autonomy

8

Introduction

was crucial.48 The tribe was led by the Sufis, having a genealogical link with the tribe. In the absence of the state, the Sufis addressed the existential needs of their client community.49 The cult of Sufis grew when they received social recognition once their baraka were transmitted to people and began to benefit them. Through the Sufi’s benevolent miracles, divine justice was seen to enter the social world. The Sufi’s transmitting of baraka, and devotees in return extending financial support, provided the structural framework upon which the subsequent devotionalism of the shrine rested.50 Some of the eighteenth- and nineteenthcentury Sufi shrines were inflected with revivalist tendencies which signified the reformist ideas that permeated the region through Sufi khanqahs. A Sufi-inspired reformist tradition became the dominant local face of Islam. The individual, spiritual and temporal influence of these Qadri Sufis helped the colonial state in conjuring the system of collaboration based on land grants and official positions; subsequently a mutually advantageous patron-client relationship developed in the last quarter of the nineteenth century.51 The structure of political power helped in the strengthening of Barelwi shrine-oriented Islam in the region; the religious ideology worked at two levels with the dissemination of the reformist movement in the first decade of the twentieth century. The ideology articulated by Deobandi ulema and the ideology which contained local and popular interpretations of the religious tradition held the shrine very central to their religious belief – a denomination which was adhered to and propagated by the Barelwi ulema.52 They certainly had certain elements in common; however, these two denominations continually came into conflict with each other. Importantly, Deobandi ulema diverged from each other on their response to Prophetology and certain aspects of shrine-oriented practices in Mianwali. Some considered textual traditions totally dismissive of the popular (local) practices. They however allowed integration of a few aspects like saintly intercession, the image of shaykh or Sufi and Urs (death anniversary of Sufi) in the belief system.53 Their moderate stance enshrined in the uniformity of tariqat (path) and shariat (sharia) was a form of Islam that drew considerable following. The other (sharia-oriented version) unequivocally cast off shrine-oriented Sufi Islam and considered it heresy and contested the concept of Prophetology in its entirety. They claimed a superior religious position by treating the reformist version as true Islam, branding traditional interpretations as deviations and incompatible with rationalistic interpretation of reformist Islam (modernity). Subsequently they had to combat contrariety posed by the defenders of shrine-based Islam through the munazara, polemical debates and takfiri (exclusionary) fatwa against each other. A pertinent example was Hussain Ali (1867–1944), a graduate of Dar-ulUlum Deoband and the pupil of Rashid Ahmed Gangohi. Hussain Ali was much influenced by the theological thinking of his mentor. The conflict became intense when Hussain Ali contested the Ahle-Sunnat’s concept of Prophetology, the Prophet’s knowledge of the unknown, the ability of seeing and being, Nur-e-Muhammadi, Shifaat (intercession) and also contested Sufi

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devotions. Barelwis lumped him in with the Wahhabis, followers of the arch conservative reformer Muhammad Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab (d. 1791) and resisted him through forging a joint alliance, because at the heart of Barelwi theology existed a deep reverence for the Prophet. The competing understandings of the relationship between the God’s sovereignty and Prophet Muhammad’s authority generated the Deobandi-Barelwi controversy. The study of hagiographical narrative shows Sufism and reformist Islam (sharia) cannot be interpreted as binary opposites and fixed categories but as open and ongoing, different and at the same time identical with competing and accommodating relationship to one another.55 This book argues, to establish Deobandi theological notions, reformist Islam had to come to terms with the Sufi ethos, as the people acknowledged the general concepts dictated by ulema but their connection with reformist Islam was distant and ideological. The disconnect between the religious ritual, emphasized by the ulema, and the social exigencies was quite stark. People therefore chose to live lives which epitomized socio-cultural plurality; it was Sufi-oriented Islam that warranted far more flexibility in their social lives. The book proceeds to show how the sharia-oriented reformist movement became a dominant ideology underpinning nationalism and acted as a rhetoric for political mobilization and an impetus for social change from the 1920s onwards. Reformist Islam kept on gaining ground and became the more acceptable form of religion for Muslim literati towards the first half of the 20th century. The reformist ideas gained greater social and political space in the context of the nationalist and anti-colonial movement spearheaded by Majlis-i-Ahrar in Mianwali. Political ideologues and leaders emphasized the concepts of the ideal nation and national community, and religion became a rallying ideology to integrate various religious denominations in search of Islamic identity. Hence religion acted as a political rhetoric to mobilise the Muslim community along a singular Islamic identity, and a means for articulating social and economic exploitation of Muslim peasantry at the hands of the Hindu commercial class backed by landed aristocracy, the colonial intermediaries.56 It is interesting to note that religious sensibility was deployed to inculcate the necessary consciousness among the rural populace of the exploitation that they had been subjected to. Reformist Islam had a flipside too. It espoused unity at the national level but at the regional or sub-regional level(s) it worked to drive a communal wedge into the composite social ethos, which Sufism warranted to a certain extent. The reform movement constructed exclusive community boundaries. Religious nationalism drew upon this exclusivity.57 The community identity predicated on religious sensibility had the potential to move beyond local issues and translate the local into national-level ideology.58 Majlis-i-Ahrar played a central role in fusing the local religious community identity into the nationalist ideology of anti-imperialism. Reformist Islam gained even wider currency with the emergence of Pakistan in 1947. The major theme of this book gravitates around the idea that the national narrative of the post-colonial state of Pakistan which had a reformist

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Introduction

streak became the principle determinant of the national identity of the state. One of the defining features of reformism was the propagation of religious exclusion on the basis of sectarian differences. Objectives Resolution 1949 committed Pakistan to greater Islamization and the concept of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat became the central postulate of the reformist version of Islam.59 Many scholars have argued that this opened space for Deobandi ulema to remain ensconced in the corridors of power. This book claims to bring forward an aggressive Barelwi religio-political activism during 1953 and 1974 Khatm-e-Nabuwwat movement, a fresh perspective from the micro level. Religio-political activism at local and grass-roots levels became a major expression of the prominence of Barelwis in the political landscape of Pakistan.60 Barelwi ulema participated in the electoral politics of Pakistan by forging alliances with other Sufi khanqahs; prominent was Chishtiyya khanqah of Sial Sharif. This questions the stereotype that Sufis are in fact otherworldly and apolitical and also claims that proponents of shrine-based Islam linked the structures of local politics with the broader concept of Islamic community in British India in the wake of the Pakistan movement. This helped them to create a growing space in the modern mosaic of Pakistan’s state structure while being part of the old traditionalist religious culture. Khatm-e-Nabuwwat emerged as a rallying point where Deobandi, Barelwi and other religious groups converged and tried to stay at the level of an intellectual and moral struggle against minority religious groups, the Ahmadiyya and Shias with a unified and extreme exclusionary disposition.61 The book traces a historical continuity in the role of Deobandi (reformist) ulema who have drawn on Sufi symbolism to find resources in their hallowed tradition to bolster their legitimacy and their public presence from the colonial to post-colonial period. While, in the words of Qasim Zaman, an important ‘performative’ dimension, the sectarian violence was carried out by the ideologues of mosques and madrasas like the khateeb and imam of mosques (the religious teachers, prayer leaders), associated with religio-political parties such as Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Islam and Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Pakistan.62 This was primarily because in the post-colonial period, it was not khanqah but the mosque which became the nerve centre of sectarianism. With the help of a network of mosques, madrasas, and the proliferation of sectarian publications, the khateeb or imam tried to frustrate all attempts by Sufis and ulema to reach consensus on Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, and fostered sectarian misgivings. The sectarian dissent acted as a centrifugal backlash, resisted the centripetal force in the form of consensus among the ulema on the larger national narrative. The polarization between centripetal and centrifugal forces structured the framework within which the conflict between religious groups manifested.63 The ulema’s vested interest was attached to the larger national politics, as opposed to the representatives of mosques and madrasas, who began to stake out their own claim to power and wealth. They only catered to their localized interests. The Ahmadiyya controversy had a twofold bearing on the sectarian Shia-Sunni conflict in Pakistan. The extremist Sunnis demanded the definition of Muslim in the

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constitution should be further redefined so as to exclude Shias as well. Anti-Shia polemics orchestrated by Deobandis during the anti-Ahmadiyya movement exposed the inanity of the Shia-Sunni common front. The veneer of either Shia or Sunni Islam had remained very thin in some parts of the district, particularly Chakrala (a town in Mianwali), where practices were locally accepted by both sides. Sunnis participated in Shia azadari processions (mourning procession in the month of Muharram) in Chakrala (a town in Mianwali). An aggressive anti-Shia campaign and a Sufi-inspired reformist movement launched by the Deobandi ideologue Maulana Allahyar Chakralwi (1904–1984) created a self-conscious Sunni identity in the middle of the twentieth century. The dissemination of the reformist movement in the cadre of the Pakistan army legitimized the Deobandi theology, and the military emerged as the upholder of the modern vision of Islam, serving as a channel to initiate religious orientation. The explicit religious change reflected a narrowing of the space for Sufism within Deobandi circles as it did a century ago. The national narrative of Pakistan, predicated on sharia-oriented Islam, led to the hardening of the denominational boundaries. That state-led initiative replaced pluralist and hybrid traditions with exclusionary and sectarian differences. This is a study in the social history of religious communities. I draw insights from the disciplines of sociology, anthropology, religious and political studies. There is a huge corpus of excellent work on South Asian Sufis and ulema, however my work is built on the pioneering work of Barbara Daly Metcalf, Francis Robinson, Usha Sanyal and Muhammad Qasim Zaman, Nile Green and Katherine Pratt Ewing. Metcalf ’s emphasis was on the social milieu of Deoband’s origins, and she limited her scope to South Asia in the nineteenth century. Likewise, Robinson in his excellent study on South Asian Islam traces the origin of Islamic Reformism in the nineteenth century in the colonial context. Zaman masterfully positioned Deoband within the normative Islamic textual tradition. His most recent work, ‘Islam in Pakistan’, provides an insightful and broad historical overview of Islam in colonial India and Pakistan. His focus in the colonial period is riveted on Deobandi ulema, the rise and gradual decline of Islamic modernism and religio-political violence in the post 9/11 War on Terror. Sufism and Barelwi Islam has not been the central focus of study. The contested terrain of South Asian Islam has been interpreted through binaries such as Islamic Law (sharia) and Sufism, in the scholarship and beyond, where they have been declared as opposed categories.64 Some scholars such as Rex O’Fahey and Bernd Radtke65still indicate a disciplinary divide between scholars of medieval Islam who study Sufism as mystical philosophy and anthropologists and historians of modern Islam, who assume that post-classical Sufism ‘can be dealt with simply as a set of symbols, prayers, miracles, cults and tomb visitations.66 Barbara Metcalf also notes the greater appeal of Barelwism among the less-educated, along with their justification of ‘mediational, customladen Islam, closely tied to the intercession of pı-rs of the shrines’, The formal designation of being a ‘Barelwi’ emerged with the career and efforts of its

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Introduction

founder, Ahmed Reza Khan Barelwi (d. 1921).67 Katherine Ewing, Nile Green, Usha Sanyal, Brannon D. Ingram, Sher Ali Tareen and Moin Nizami viewed Sufism as a heterogeneous and resilient institution which is an advocate of reformist Islam. Green attempts to recast our understanding of Sufism away from the grand narrative of decline associated with the development of the Sufi orders and their institutional forms. Green prioritizes Sufism’s social dimensions in his definition of Sufism as ‘a tradition of powerful knowledge, practices and persons’.68 Sanyal presents Barelwi as a reformist whose devotionalism and appreciation of South Asian pious beliefs and rituals venerating the Sufi saints were combined with the teachings of classical Islamic sources such as the Quran, Hadith, and fiqh. She views this commitment to sharia as interwoven with Sufi orientations, including love of the Prophet and honour of saints of the Qadiriyya silsila.69 Ewing and Ingram show the ambivalent approach of Deobandis toward Sufism. Deobandis believe that Sufism is essential to the cultivation of piety, inseparable from Islamic legal norms and from Islamic ethics and politics, yet placed strict limits on what is permissible at shrines and what breeds innovative beliefs and practices.70 Tareen argues that competing rationalities of tradition and reform generated conflict which was animated. Competing understanding of the relationship between God and his Prophet developed a contrasting vision between Deobandis and Barelwis.71 Drawing upon the argument of these scholars, this book rejects such binary constructions and claims that Deobandi reformist Ulema were Sufi masters, they imbibed the literary and interpersonal/institutional dimension of Sufism, however devotional practices in everyday religious life forms were denounced as not being a part of normative Islam. They had to adopt Sufi symbols to anchor their authority and to establish reformist Islam in a rural social space where shrine-oriented Sufi Islam was historically grounded. Hence contestation of certain aspects of Sufism and accommodation grew concurrently and a dialectical relationship was formed between Sufism and reformist Islam. The real conflict emerged on the conceptual and hermeneutical differences on the relationship between divine sovereignty and the Prophet’s authority. The works of all these scholars range over the colonial period. This book presents the study of Sufis and ulema which pivots away from intra-ulema debates and deals more broadly with the whole process of religious change, spanning colonial India and post-colonial Pakistan and the contestation between the two facets of Islam, giving a fresh perspective from the macro to micro level. Several scholars have written on tribes, diaspora, the variety of religious and non-religious roles the Sufis played and their relationship with the colonial state.72 I draw on Sarah Ansari and Nile Green’s argument that the Sufi’s role as mediator between tribes was developed in the context of changed social and economic conditions and political decentralization. However, my study slightly departs from Green’s argument that the Sufis created a network of affiliation and Islamic brotherhood that underpinned an Islamic identity which transcended the boundaries of kinship identities. My study argues that the central concern in the tribal society of Mianwali was to protect the tribal

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ethnic identity under the leadership of a Sufi with a genealogical affiliation with the tribe, which was crucial for the sustainability of tribal structure and authority. The works of Sarah Ansari and Gilmartin examine the relationship of the Sufi-Pir and the colonial State.73 Ansari highlights the role of influential sajjada nashin or Pirs of Sindh as a collaborator of colonial rule. However, Gilmartin’s work on the relationship between British and Sufi shrines, focused on the Punjab, shows Sufis enjoyed a superior social status as colonial intermediaries, however this policy of co-option shifted from the Sufis to the landed elites with the opening of the agrarian frontier in the region. The nexus of landed elite and sajjada nashins forged a structure of political power which strengthened shrine-oriented Islam. Drawing on the argument of Sandria Freitag, Nandini Gooptu, and Eric Stokes, I argue that ideologically constructed religious community identities developed in a specific social, political and economic context.74 Religion was used as rhetoric for political and social mobilization in an age teeming with nationalist sentiments. The book proceeds to show how in the first half of the twentieth century, reformist sharia-oriented Islam acted as a companion to nationalism and gave Muslims a nationalist community identity and also constructed a distinct singular Islamic identity. This study argues that there had been strong interconnections between religious, political and cultural complexities and motivations which sought to renew religious community identity. On sectarianism, religious exclusion and religio-political activism by ulema and Sufis, scholars like Qasim Zaman, Vali Nasr, Sadia Saeed, Tahir Kamran, Asad Ahmed, Katherine Ewing, Ali Usman Qasmi, and Umbar Bin Ibad have written, most through the lens of radicalization of sectarian identities, Zia-ul-Haq’s Islamization, the Afghan War, the proliferation of Deobandi madaris, the 1979 Iranian Revolution, and anti-Ahmadiyya.75 Ewing’s most recent work focuses on India and Pakistan within a broader global context, with a particular focus on how Sufis in South Asia have engaged in politics, from the colonial period to the present, and contests the perception of Sufis as apolitical. She also questions the portrayal of Sufi shrines as sites of toleration, peace, and harmony, as she explores shrines as sites of tension and conflict.76 Ibad’s work is a political history of shrines and their relationship with the state. His book shows how the state engaged with sites of shrines ideologically, politically, legally and administratively, and how the state’s control over shrines converted the spiritual traditions as a singular phenomenon, ranging over the post-colonial period of Pakistan.77 This book argues that the national narrative constructed on the idea of a consensual singular Islamic identity, the takfiri, and the exclusionary approach of the ulema shifted its focus to minority religious groups in the process of re-identification. This shaped a more radical and extremist variant of Islam leading to theological dissent and a sectarian wedge. Deobandis who had drawn upon Sufism in colonial days had a much narrower space for Sufism in the post-colonial state of Pakistan. The book also claims an aggressive Barelwi religio-political activism to create a growing space in the

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Introduction

modern mosaic of Pakistan’s state structure which questions the stereotype that Sufis are in fact otherworldly and apolitical. Use of Islam by the army has been of interest to many scholars, spawning multiple perspectives and interpretations. Katherine Ewing, Yasmin Saikia, Vali Nasser and Hussain Haqqani argue that Ayub deployed Islam as a tool for nation building. Ewing and Nasser argue that when Ayub was unable to extricate Islam from politics, he decided to make Islam compatible with the national goal of development and the modernization plan. To give a liberal vision of Islam he wanted religion to be controlled and guided by the military and not by the clerics.78 Saikia argues that Ayub’s crafting of the army’s image as the true protector of religion and nationalism lost ground with the dismemberment of East Pakistan.79 Haqqani further argues that after the 1971 war, Islam acquired greater significance in creating national cohesion between Pakistan’s diverse ethnic and linguistic groups; however the manifestation of Islam became militant as a result of the alliance between mosque and military.80 Farzana Shaikh gives a different perspective by arguing that the military looked to Islam to strengthen the Muslim ‘communal’ narrative that defined Pakistan’s identity in opposition to India and kept this alive by extending Pakistan’s regional interests in Kashmir and Afghanistan.81 This book unravels the proselytization and penetration of Islam into the armed forces of Pakistan during Ayub Khan’s era through the extension of Jamaat of dhakirin. The book shows how the influential military constituency helped Allahyar in anchoring his religious authority. The Jamaat found its strongest expression in the form of halqa-e-dhikr in post-1971 prisoner-of-war camps in India. It also shows how mutual performance of mystical practices created a sense of solidarity and cohesive moral community among prisoners of war. Using vernacular sources, this work brings a fresh perspective on Islam and its interface with the army. Though the scope of this book is broad, ranging over the colonial and postcolonial periods, certain facets of religion had to remain largely unattended here. The history of Sufism and the Islamic reformist movement has not been discussed. The focus is on the process of how reformist Islam was established in the 20th century and how it came to be in conflict with shrine-oriented traditions. The nature of devotional practices at Sufi shrines has not been attempted for this study. It is the social history of religion which examines the nature of religious change in the social and political context. This study shows how various strands of Islam and divergent Islamic identities embraced the nationalist ideology and converged on one common point of singular Islamic identity in a particular political and ideological context. This study provides future avenues of research which may include scrutiny of the anxieties that the existence and missionary activities of Ahmadiyya and Shia minority communities generated among the ulema and the Islamists in the light of extensive polemics available during 1953–1974. It may also include an exhaustive analysis of sectarian militancy much exacerbated by the impact and rhetoric of the Islamization of the military regime of General Zia, the

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1979 Iranian revolution, and the penetration of Afghan refugees into Pakistan. Pakistan’s realignment in the US-led War on Terror in the aftermath of 9/11 and the subsequent rise of religio-political violence can provide a focus of study, in view of Mianwali’s geo-strategic position as a border district between Punjab and Khyber Pukhtunkhawah. This is a pioneering work, using previously unexplored hagiographical literature including polemical texts, a collection of sermons, letters in Urdu, Persian and Arabic, recorded discourses of Sufi discussion (mulfuzat), text on theology, legal opinion (fatawa) and biographies. Archival documents formed a very significant part of this study which had never yet been tapped. The archival records include proceedings of the Home Department, World War I Services record, confidential letters of the Punjab police department, Civil Secretariate, and Deputy Commissioner Mianwali District, unpublished fortnightly reports, district gazetteers, newspapers, Urdu language books and secondary academic works on religion, politics, culture, society and state in colonial India and Pakistan. The chapters in this book are thematically organized. In the first chapter I will study the interface between Sufis and local tribal and kinship structures. The focus will be on how tribal identities and local forms of religious organizations helped to disseminate Islam in the region, the Sufi’s role as a holy man with a genealogical link with tribal identity, as tribal mediator and collaborator with the colonial state. The chapter shows that Sufism, which was historically grounded in this region, was never devoid of reformist traditions. The fusion of mystical Islam and sharia emerged as the dominant face of local Islam. In the second chapter I will examine the emergence of two rival streams of South Asian Muslim reformist thought that acquired distinct denominational identities as Deobandis and Barelwis in the early twentieth century. The study will shed light on Deobandi ulema and the assertion of their authority in their opposition to Barelwi shrine-oriented Islam in the district. The chapter highlights that Deobandi ulema drew inspiration from Sufi traditions, as they believe Sufi thought and piety had an integral link with sharia (law). However the study shows that hermeneutical difference on the understanding of Prophetology generated conflict between the two religious orientations. A heated polemical debate gave rise to sectarian strife. The third chapter sets out to examine the religious reform movement within the context of socio-economic transformation. It will focus on religion as rhetoric for social and political mobilization which led to ideologically constructed religious community identities. These religious identities espoused national identity and merged into a singular Islamic identity for the creation of a separate homeland for the Muslims of India. The fourth and fifth chapters will examine how ulema articulated their religious authority to participate in the national narrative constructed on the idea of a consensual singular Islamic identity. How Sufis and ulema developed a consensus against minority religious groups and religious rhetoric was used to gain political mileage. The study will also scrutinize the belligerence of ulema, representing primarily Majlis-i-Ahrar, Deobandis and Barelwis, along with the state, in the issue of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat

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in 1953 and 1974. The fifth chapter will also explore a Sufi-inspired reformist movement and its expansion into a wide military constituency, with inspiration drawn from the environment in which religious/sectarian exclusion had become the most widely circulated discourse.

Notes 1 To answer the challenges of the West, a movement of political elites and ulema to reshape Islamic knowledge and institutions in the light of Western models and reform individual behaviour on the basis of fundamental religious principles, a development known as reformism. See Francis Robinson, ‘Islamic Reform and Modernities in South Asia’, Modern Asian Studies 42, 2/3 (2008). 2 The term Sufi is derived from Suf, which means ‘rug’. Hajweri in khashful majub, one of the earliest treatise on Sufism in Persian, explains the origin of word ‘Sufi’. He traces its origin from safa (purity); Fazaluddin Gohar (Lahore: Zia-ul-Quran Publications, 2010) 79–94. Carl Ernst also writes ‘Sufism can refer to a wide range of phenomena, including scriptural interpretation, meditative practices, master-disciple relationships, corporate institutions, aesthetic and ritual gestures, doctrines, and literary texts. As a generic descriptive term, however, Sufism is deceptive. There is no Sufism in general. All that we describe as Sufism is firmly rooted in particular local contexts, associated with tombs of deceased saints, and it is deployed in relation to lineages and personalities with a distinctively local sacrality. Individual Sufi groups or traditions in one place may be completely ignorant of what Sufis do or say in other regions’. See Carl W. Ernst, ‘Situating Sufism and Yoga’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Third Series 15, No. 1 (2005), 22. For a short introduction to Islamic mysticism, see Alexander D. Knysh, Islamic Mysticism: A Short History (Leiden: Brill, 2000). In order to distinguish the intense spiritual and meditative practices of specialists who actively strive to achieve direct communion with God from that of lay Muslims who believe in the power and the piety of the saints rooted in shrine-based culture, I identify the former as Sufism and the latter as shrine-based Sufism. Shrine-based Sufism constitutes beliefs and practices that are centred on Sufi shrines as the seat of these saints. It rests primarily on belief in the intercessory powers of Sufi saints, in the blessed nature of the sacred space of Sufi shrines, and in holding Sufi saints as an ideal of Islamic comportment and ethics. See Carl W. Ernst and Bruce B. Lawrence, Sufi Martyrs of Love: The Chishti Order in South Asia and Beyond (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002). 3 Barbara D. Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India: Deoband, 1860–1900 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1982); Muhammad Qasim Zaman, Islam in Pakistan: A History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018). 4 See A. J. Arberry, Sufism: An Account of Mystics of Islam (London: 1950), 119–122; and J. S. Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), 103. 5 Branon D. Ingram, Revival from Below: The Deoband Movement and Global Islam (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2018). Also see Farhan Ahmad Nizami, Madrasahs, Scholars and Saints: Muslim Response to the British Presence in Delhi and the Upper Doab, 1803–1857 (London: Oxford University Press, 1983). 6 Carl W. Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism (Boston, MA: Shambhala, 1997), 8–19; and Katherine Pratt Ewing, Arguing Sainthood: Modernity, Psychoanalysis, and Islam (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1997), 45–47. 7 The dichotomy of Islam is provided in Gibb’s 1947 Modern Trends in Islam – a book first delivered as a series of lectures at the University of Chicago and

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9 10

11 12 13 14 15 16 17

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published in the United States with Rockefeller Foundation support. J.S.Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), 103. Rosemary R. Corbett, ‘Anti-Colonial Militants or Liberal Peace Activists? The Role of Private Foundations in Producing Pacifist Sufis During the Cold War’, in Modern Sufis and the State: Politics of Islam in South Asia and Beyond, Katherine Pratt Ewing and Rosemary R. Corbett, eds. (Columbia, SC: Columbia University Press, 2020). Arberry, Sufism: An Account of Mystics of Islam, 119–122. Also see Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam, 104. The impulse to revive the Chishtiyya order came from Shah Kalimullah of Delhi (1650–1729). A renewed emphasis on obedience to the sharia and central importance of tabligh was the cornerstone of Chishtiyya spiritual regeneration. One of his spiritual descendants, whose influence was pervasive through a network of his disciples and khalifa in western Punjab, was Shah Fakhruddin of Delhi (1717–1785). His most important khalifa, Khawaja Nur Muhammad Mehrvi (1730–1791) and Khawaja Suleman Taunsvi (1770–1850), and his most influential descendant Mehr Ali Shah of Golra (1856–1937), greatly extended the influence of order in the western Punjab. These reformist concerns were not confined to the Chishtiyya order; in the nineteenth century, the Naqshbandiyya order also produced rural Sufi, emphasizing the reforming mission. Pir Jamaat Ali Shah of Ali Pur Sayedan (1841–1951) was prominent. David Gilmartin, Empire and Islam: Punjab and the making of Pakistan (London: I.B. Tauris & Co, 1989), 57. Carl Ernst and Bruce Lawrence, Sufi Martyrs of Love: The Chishti Order in South Asia and Beyond (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 14; also see Moin Ahmed Nizami, Reform and Renewal in South Asian Islam: The Chishti-Sabris in 18th–19th Century North India (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2017), 8. Ewing, Arguing Sainthood; also see Ernst, The Shambhala Guide to Sufism. Corbett, ‘Anti-Colonial Militants or Liberal Peace Activists?’, 49. Muhammad Iqbal, Thoughts and Reflections of Iqbal Syed Abdul Vahid (Lahore: Sh. Muhammad Ashraf, 1964), 81. See Nizami, Reform and Renewal in South Asian Islam; Sher Ali Tareen, Defending Muhammad in Modernity (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2020). Ingram, Revival from Below, 29. Tareen, Defending Muhammad in Modernity, 56. Ali Altaf Mian, Invoking Islamic Rights in British India Invoking Islamic Rights In British India: Mawlana Ashraf Ali Thanawi’s Huquq al-Islam (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2021). Nizami, Reform and Renewal in South Asian Islam; Ingram, Revival from Below, 65. See Tareen, Defending Muhammad in Modernity (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2020); and Fuad S. Naeem, ‘Sufism and Revivalism in South Asia: Mawlana Ashraf ‘Ali Thanvi of Deoband and Mawlana Ahmad Raza Khan of Bareilly and their Paradigms of Islamic Revivalism’, The Muslim World, 99 (2009), 16. Shah Ismail, a Hanbali reformist, wrote’Taqwiat-ul-Iman’ (Strengthening the Faith) in Urdu in 1820s, which dealt with the centrality of the concept of tauhid and denounced devotional rituals, beliefs and other practices, calling them shirk (polytheistic). He rejected most formulations of law schools in favour of a literal reading of Quran and Sunnah. See Usha Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996) 37. Also see Sanyal ‘Sufism through the Prism of Sharia: A Reformist Barelwi Girls’ Madrasa in Uttar Paradesh, India’, in Modern Sufis and the State, 134. A prolific scholar and founder of Ahl-e-Sunnat Wal Jammat. See details in Chapter 2. Naeem, Sufism and Revivalism in South Asia, 12. Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 46. Tareen, Defending Muhammad in Modernity, 45.

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30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

43 44 45

46

Introduction Naeem, Sufism and Revivalism in South Asia. See Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 17. See Tareen, Defending Muhammad in Modernity. Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 18. Francis Robinson, Islam, South Asia and the West (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2007), 60. Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 53. Wilfred Cantwell Smith, ‘The Ulema in Indian Politics’ in Politics and Society in India, C. H. Philips, ed. (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1963), 42–3. Robinson, ‘Islamic Reform and Modernities in South Asia’, 262. Qasim Zaman, The Ulama in Contemporary Islam: Custodians of Change (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2002), 21. Robinson, Islam, South Asia and the West, 127. Francis Robinson, The Cambridge Illustrated History of the Islamic World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). Usha Sanyal, Ahmed Reza Khan Barelwi: In the Path of the Prophet (London: One World, 2005). Dietric Reetz, Islam in the Public Sphere: Religious Groups in India, 1900–1947 (London: Oxford University Press, 2006), 27. Ibid., 86. Kenneth Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India (New Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 51. Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 37. Ibid., 86. Christian W. Troll, Muslim Shrines in India: Their Character, History and Significance (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1989), 207. Reetz, Islam in the Public Sphere, 63. Jamal Malik, Colonialization of Islam: Dissolution of Traditional Institutions in Pakistan (Lahore: Vangaurd Books, 1996), 4. Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 8. The Barelwi ideology was named after the town of Bareilli in the North Indian state of Utter Pradesh, where Ahmed Reza Khan was born. The Brelwi school was in many ways the intellectual heir of the nineteenth century scholar Fazl-i-Haqq Khayrabadi (d. 1861) who vigorously opposed Shah Muhammad Ismail. See Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India. Sanyal, Ahmad Riza Khan Barelwi: In the Path of the Prophet, 34. Peter Burke, Cultural Hybridity (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2009) 8. Debates on Islamic philosophical thoughts and principles on the one hand and local syncretic elements on the other were integrated in Indian Islam. See Imtiaz Ahmed and Helmut Reifeld, Lived Islam in South Asia: Adaptation Accommodation and Conflict (Delhi: Social Science Press, 2004); Imtiaz and Helmut, eds., Ritual and religion among Muslims in India (Delhi: Manohar, 1981). For the same argument, see Peter Vander Veer, ‘Syncretism, Multiculturalism and the Discourse of Tolerance’ in Syncretism/Anti-Syncretism: The Politics of Religious Synthesis, Stewart, Charles and Rosalind Shaw, eds. (London: Routledge, 1994); and Partha Chatterjee, The Nation and its Fragments: Colonial and Post-Colonial Histories (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993); also see Bob Vander Linden, Moral Languages from Colonial Punjab: The Sangh Sabha, Arya Samaj and Ahmediyas (New Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 2008), 8; Kenneth W. Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India (New Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 12. For underlining a historic trend towards what he called ‘high Islamic tradition’ by eliminating local deviations from Islam, see Robinson, Islam and Muslim Society in South Asia. In a tribal society, For a Sufi or a Mulla, it is essential to have a genealogical link with his tribe which accorded him religious and temporal authority. See Sana Haroon, Frontier of Faith: Islam in Indo-Afghan Borderland (London: Hurst &

Introduction

47 48 49

50 51 52

53 54 55 56

19

Company, 2007); Frederik Barth, Political Leadership among Swat Pakhtuns (London, 1965), 17; also see Louis Dupree, ‘Tribal Warfare in Afghanistan and Pakistan: A Reflection of the Segmentary Lineage System’, in Islam in Tribal Societies: From the Atlas to the Indus, Akbar Ahmed and David M. Hart, eds. (London: Routledge, 2013); Akbar S. Ahmed, ‘Tribe and State in Waziristan’, in The Conflict of Tribe and State in Iran and Afghanistan, Richard Tapper, ed. (London: Routledge, 1983). Also see Nile Green, ‘Tribe, Diaspora and Sainthood in Afghan History’, Journal of Asian Studies 67, No. 1 (2008). Ahmed and Hart, Islam in Tribal Societies, 8. Philip S. Khoury and Joseph Kostiner, Tribe and State Formation in the Middle East (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1990), 23. Richard Maxwell Eaton, India’s Islamic Traditions 711–1750 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003); The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier 1204–1760 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1993); Sufis of Bijapur, 1300–1700: Social Roles of Sufis in Medieval India (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978). Hans Harder, Sufism and Saint Veneration in Contemporary Bangladesh: Maijbhandaris of Chitagong (New York: Routledge, 2011). For thaumaturgic powers of saints, see Katherine Ewing, ‘The Sufi as Saint, Curer and Exorcist in Modern Pakistan’, Asian Studies, 18 (1984); Troll, Muslim Shrines in India; Claudia Liebeskind, Piety on its Knees: Three Sufi Traditions in South Asia in Modern Times (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998); also see Nile Green, Making Space: Sufis and Settlers in Early Modern India (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2012). Ewing reveals that even those who dislike leaving Pir visit shrines. See Ewing, Arguing Sainthood: Modernity, Psychoanalysis and Islam, 112–16. Sarah Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power: The Pirs of Sind (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 48. I use the terms ‘Barelwi’ and ‘Ahl-e-Sunnat wal jamaat’ interchangeably. The term used by adherents of shrine-based Islam for themselves is Ahl-e Sunnat wa al jamaat, which is a Persio-Arabic phrase meaning ‘people of the Islamic way of life and community’, or Ahl-e-Sunnat for short. They are often referred to as Barelvi, which is a term eponymous with the nineteenth century scholar and Sufi reformist Ahmad Reza Khan Barelwi, inclined towards shrine-oriented religion. It is the belief of his followers that he is reviving the prophetic sunnat, hence they call themselves Ahle-Sunnat. Humza Alavi suggests all rural Sufi pirs regard themselves as Ahle-Sunnat: see Humza Alavi, ‘Pakistan and Islam: Ethnicity and Ideology’, in State and Ideology in the Middle East and Pakistan, F. Halliday and H. Alavi, eds. (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1988), 64–111. Sanyal, in contrast, maintains that only some self-consciously ‘reformist’ Pirs of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century period were actively involved in the Ahle-Sunnat movement as leaders. See Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 8–10. Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 139; Kelly Pemberton, ‘Islamic and Islamicizing Discourses: Ritual Performance, Didactic Texts, and the Reformist Challenge in the South Asian Sufi Milieu’, Modern Asian Studies, 32, No. 3 (1998), 635–56. Usha Sanyal, ‘Generational Changes in the Leadership of the Ahl-e Sunnat Movement in North India during the Twentieth Century’, Modern Asian Studies, 32, No. 3 (1998), 16. Also see, Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 67. Dorian Hastings and Martin Stokes, eds. Interpreting Islam (New Delhi: Vistaar Publication, 2002); also see Winston Cantwell Smith, Islam in Modern History (New York: Mentor Books, 1963). Religious nationalism developed on a previous construction of religious community and not based on the concept of two nation theory. Religious nationalism of the nineteenth and twentieth century built on forms of religious identity produced in religious institutions, which were in a constant process of transformation during the colonial and post-colonial period. See Jones, Socio-Religious Reform

20

57 58 59

60 61 62 63 64

65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72

73

Introduction Movements, 209; and Vander Veer, Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press), 24. Juergensmeyer believes that religious nationalism was one way of reconciling traditional religious and modern politics. See Mark Juergensmeyer, Religious Nationalism Confronts the Secular State (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996), 191. Veer, Religious Nationalism, 58. Sandria B. Freitag, Collective Action and Community: Public Arenas and the Emergence of Communalism in North India (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1989), 282. Leonard Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1963), 350–61. Umbar Bin Ibad, Sufi Shrines and the Pakistani State: The End of Religious Pluralism (London: I.B. Tauris, 2019), 28; Vali Reza Nasr, Islamic Leviathan: Islam and the Making of State Power (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 64. Zaman, Islam in Pakistan; Nasr, Islamic Leviathan, 60. Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan, 350–61; Ibad, Sufi Shrines and the Pakistani State, 30. Zaman, Islam in Pakistan, 62. Younas Samad, A Nation in Turmoil: Nationalism and Ethnicity in Pakistan, 1937–1958 (New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1995), 10–11. David Pinault, Notes from the Fortune-Telling Parrot: Islam and the Struggle for Religious Pluralism in Pakistan (London: Equinox, 2008); and Amir Mufti, Enlightenment in the Colony: The Jewish Question and the Crisis of Post-colonial Culture (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007). Rex S. O’Fahey and Bernd Radtke, ‘Neo-Sufism Reconsidered’, Der Islam 70, No. 1 (1993), 54. Louis Massignon and Bernd Radtke, ‘Tasawwuf ’, in Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd edn, P. Bearman, Th. Bianquis, C.E. Bosworth, eds. http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/ 1573-3912-_islam_COM_1188. Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India; Zaman, The Ulama in Contemporary Islam. Nile Green, Sufism: A Global History (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2012), 3. Sanyal, Ahmad Riza Khan Barelwi: In the Path of the Prophet, 105. Ingram, Revival from Below. Tareen, Defending Muhammad in Modernity; also see Nizami, Reform and Renewal in South Asian Islam. Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur; Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power; T. R. Metcalf, Land, Landlords and the British Raj; Green, ‘Tribe, Diaspora and Sainthood in Afghan History’; Ahmed and Hart, Islam and Tribal Societies; Haroon, Frontier of Faith; Barth, Political Leadership among Swat Pakhtuns; Dupree, Tribal Warfare in Afghanistan and Pakistan; Ahmed, ‘Tribe and State in Waziristan’; Julia A. Clancy-Smith, Rebel and Saint: Muslim Notables, Populist Protest, Colonial Encounters (Algeria and Tunisia, 1800-1904) (Berkley, CA: University of California: 1994); Green, Sufism: A Global History. Gilmartin, David. ‘Tribe, Land and Religion in the Punjab: Muslim Politics and the Making of Pakistan’, PhD dissertation, University of California, 1979; Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power; Jurgen Wasim Frembgen, Journey to God: Sufis and Dervishes in Islam, trans. Jane Ripken (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2009); Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu, eds. Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and Performance of Emotion in Sufi Cults (London: Routledge, 1998); Troll, Muslim Shrines in India; Katherine Pratt Ewing, ‘The Politics of Sufism: Redefining the Saints of Pakistan’, Journal of Asian Studies, 42, No. 2 (1983), 251–68. Robert Rozehnal, Islamic Sufism Unbound: Politics and Piety in Twenty First Century Pakistan (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007).

Introduction

21

74 Nandini Gooptu, The Politics of the Urban Poor in Early Twentieth-Century India (London: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 14–17. 75 Freitag, Collective Action and Community, 19. 76 Nasr, ‘The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan: The Changing Role of Islamism and the Ulema in Society and Politics’, Modern Asian Studies, 341 (2000), 139–80; Nasr argues that the increased participation of ‘ulama-’ in society and politics and the changing role of religious education have sparked an increase in sectarianism. Qasim Zaman, ‘Sectarianism in Pakistan: The Radicalization of Shia and Sunni Identities’, Modern Asian Studies, 323 (1998), 689–716; Mumtaz Ahmed, ‘Islamization and Sectarian Violence in Pakistan’, Intellectual Discourse 6, No. 1 (1998); Ashok K. Behuria, ‘Sunni-Shia Relations in Pakistan: The Widening Divide’, Strategic Analysis, 28, No. 1 (2004). Behuria has also written on sectarian violence in Pakistan between rival Sunni sects. Ali Usman Qasmi, The Ahmedis and the Politics of Religious Exclusion in Pakistan (London: Anthem Press, 2014); Asad Ahmed, ‘Adjudicating Muslims: Law, Religion and the State in Colonial India and Post-Colonial Pakistan’, PhD dissertation, University of Chicago, 2006; and Sadia Saeed, ‘Politics of Exclusion: Muslim Nationalism, State Formation and Legal Representations of the Ahmadiyya Community in Pakistan’, PhD dissertation, University of Michigan, 2010. Tahir Kamran, ‘The Pre-History of Religious Exclusionism in Contemporary Pakistan: Khatam-e-Nubuwwat 1889–1953’, Modern Asian Studies 49, No. 6 (2015). 77 Ewing and Corbett, Modern Sufis and the State. 78 Ibad, Sufi Shrines and the Pakistani State, 56. 79 Ayub also established control over key Islamic institutions, many of which had earlier been administered by Sufi shrines, as sanctioned by the West Pakistan Waqf (Endowment) Properties Ordinance of 1959. Ayub envisaged Sufi saints as propagators of Islam and Sufism in congruence with sharia; in contrast the customary shrine-oriented Islam represented by sajjada nishin was seen as embedded in heterogeneous traditions. Sufism was viewed as rigorous spiritual discipline transmitted from spiritual mentor (Sufi) to the disciple. What suited Ayub was the concept in Sufi tradition that delinked spiritual authority from political leadership, whereas the Pir or sajjada nashin had to act as spiritual mediator between man and God. See Katherine P. Ewing, ‘The Politics of Sufism’, 267. Also see Nasr, Islamic Leviathan; Saikia, ‘Ayub Khan and Modern Islam: Transforming Citizens and the nation in Pakistan’, Journal of South Asian Studies, 37, No. 2 (2004), 298. 80 Husain Haqqani, Pakistan: Between Mosque and Military (London: Penguin Books, 2016). 81 Farzana Shaikh, Making Sense of Pakistan (London: Hurst & Co, 2009).

1

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam (ca. 1600–1900)

This chapter explores the relationship between Sufis and local tribal kinship structures in a society where tribal identities and local forms of religious organization were closely associated. The focus is on conditions in society from the early eighteenth century to the beginning of the twentieth century, which grounded the power of Sufi and shrine in heterodox beliefs regarding the Sufi’s abilities of intercession between man and God. After the death of the Sufi, his shrine became a microcosm of local Islam which provided support to its devotees in tangible and intangible forms. This chapter argues that shrine-based Islam is historically grounded in Mianwali. The core argument of this chapter pertains to the historical context of shrine-based Islam (Sufism) and the way it was articulated in Mianwali’s spatial perspective. This chapter draws upon the position of Richard Eaton and David Gilmartin, that the Sufis acquired symbolic importance in the particular context of ecological and political change which formed the pattern of conversion in rural Punjab. Islam was accessible to the masses through Sufis and rituals of shrines which integrated them into religious culture.1 The chapter provides more a nuanced understanding of the variety of Sufi traditions and tendencies. Sufis had played active roles in conflicts ranging from local rivalries to inter-tribal wars or militia movements. They could hardly be considered pacifists or apolitical.2 The Sufi’s various roles as tribal leader, mediator, jurist and religious mentor are studied in the context of changed social and economic structures. The focus will also be on identifying factors which integrated the Sufi and their disciples in a spiritual bond in two main contexts: first, the hyper-corporeality of the Sufi, and second, through dreams and visions, as important aspects of Muslim religiosity. The chapter also discusses the politics shaped by the ideology of the British imperial state which collaborated with Sufis, drawing them closer to power structures. State intervention in the culture of khanqah and dargah necessarily shifts the interplay between liminal identities that develop in the context of the shrine and the state-sanctioned categories of identity. This worked in two ways, it enhanced the social and religious influence of Sufis in local society and at the same time, it deviated them from the life of austerity – hence religious authority declined with the subsequent decline in piety. DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-2

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam

23

The Indo-Islamic traditions that evolved between 711 and 1750 helped to shape Islam according to the regional cultures of South Asia and linked Muslims in those cultures to the Muslim community worldwide.3 Thus the Indo Islamic traditions were essentially and inevitably ‘pluralist’. Sufism in South Asia flourished in such a socio-cultural setting. The autonomy and authority of Sufi orders struck their roots in a society in which hierarchical distinctions among human beings were taken for granted.4 Indian Islam was essentially a holy man Islam. The migrant Sufis in a Hindu environment in India acquired the cult of holiness and the notion as well as the practice of piety, which attracted Indians to them rather than to sharia Islam.5 In embodying the sacred as a lived reality, the living Sufis created and extended new Sufi brotherhoods (tariqa), strengthened cults and made tombs a focus of devotees.6 The great Sufi mystics of the Delhi Sultanate period – Baba Farid of Pakpattan, Shaykh Bahawal Haq Zikria of Multan, and Syed Jalal-ud-Din Bukhari of Uch – had a pivotal role in the conversion and spread of Islam in western Punjab.7 The interaction between local cultures and the culture of powerful Muslim states helped to constitute the rural Punjab’s Islamic institutions. The Sufi khanqah (hospices) and later Sufi shrines (tombs) constructed by Muslim sultans acted as, in the words of Gilmartin, important ‘symbolic cultural outposts of the power of Islam’ in a rural society where local tribal identities were of crucial significance.8 In another sense the shrine served as a bridge between the local religious system and the wider world of Islam.9 The masses believed in the closer and special relationship between God and Sufi, the Sufi with his spiritual power (baraka) could intercede with God on the devotee’s behalf.10 When shrine called dargah in India replaced khanqah, Sufism became more a devotional than a mystical movement.11 The popular devotionalism that developed at shrines had little link with Islamic tradition, however it appealed to the common folk, who believed the saint would provide access to divine favours and relief from worldly anxieties.12 Devotion to the Sufi continued through his descendants, central figures of religious authority and the inheritors of the Sufi’s baraka, called sajjada nashin, to whom the power transmitted through spiritual charisma, placing them in a line of direct access to moral authority.13 The shrine’s magicality was grounded in heterodox beliefs regarding the divine powers of Sufis and their ability to intercede for devotees in their quest for personal boons (fertility, worldly success, health). These Sufis are described as miracle makers. Practice and belief were grounded in ethical premises, rituals were practiced not as a result of strong belief but were embodied, ethical and aesthetic practices.14

Mianwali’s geo-historical perspective Mianwali15was geographically and historically a significant part of the Sindh Valley (Indus), established on the east of the river Indus (a Cis-Indus district). Social structure in Mianwali is essentially tribal, with tribal chiefs being the

24

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam

Map 1.1 Mianwali District in the twentieth century Source: Deputy Commissioner Record Office Mianwali District

fountainheads of political influence. The normative code and ethics, the centrality of patriarchal supremacy, the concept of honour, economic interests, and a strong sense of tribal identity are the distinctive features of this region. Economic interests and ethnic prejudices had fomented intertribal rivalries and stunted social cohesion. The region was essentially agricultural in the sense that land and cattle were the only source of livelihood. The land was divided into the riverine area, intersected by creeks and flooded during monsoon, a hilly tract in the north, and the desert region called ‘Thal’ in the east and west of the district. Living in a terrain where life was an arduous exercise, environmental factors and scantier economic prospects contributed to the economic and agricultural backwardness of the region.16 The physical and cultural topography of Mianwali is shaped by saintly remains. Islam was popularized and sustained here by the Sufis, whose shrines are the sites of veneration in the countryside. Islam spread in the region as a result of constant interaction between Sufis professing Islam, marked by uniformity of shariat and tariqat and pre-existing indigenous religious beliefs. An ordinary Muslim’s understanding of Islam was mediated through the agency of a Sufi or Pir. The ideas of evil spirits, multifarious methods of dispelling the effect of such evil influences, witchcraft, and magic were common among the people.17 To their following, steeped in the tradition of orality, Sufis presented models of perfect behaviour, and came to symbolize what it meant to be Muslim.

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam

25

Islamic inclination and Pathan Culture Islam was introduced as a ‘civilization building ideology’, aimed at settling and populating the land and constructing a transcendent reality.18 Two factors helped in developing an alliance between Sufis and the local Pathan tribes. One stemmed from particular political and socio-religious conditions in which Islam spread with the help of local forces, the Sufis as tribal intermediary, in the face of threats and resistance in the region. The second factor was the growing issues of settlement and ownership of land with the penetration of Pathan tribes into Mianwali. The first Sufi to enter this land was, as Richard Eaton has mentioned, ‘the chalk of the dawn’ of Islamic civilization in this region.19 Mian Ali, a Sufi, belonging to the Qadiriyya order, migrated from Baghdad in the sixteenth century (1584). He was the one who was known to have spread Islam into the area.20 During that time the cities of Baghdad, Cairo, Medina and Mecca were the most famous centres of religious instruction in the Islamic world, and migrant scholars from these centres enjoyed great prestige in Indo-Muslim society. The Arab identity helped in the social elevation of the Sufi and his shrine in a local context.21 Qadiri Sufis who migrated to Deccan in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries retained a distinctly Arab character with an orthodox orientation. Their strict doctrinal position made them indistinguishable from ulema. They were reformist with orthodox orientations, indifferent towards nonMuslims and indicated no interest in converting them to Islam.22 They also avoided social interaction with the Hindu population.23 Unlike them, Mian Ali mingled with people from all religious persuasions. His all-inclusive approach gave rise to a distinct identity to the local Islam which earned him popularity and a large following. He followed ascetic practices of dhikr (remembrance of God) and chilla and exercised tremendous influence among people through his miracles (karamat).24 The miracle making holy man image attained popularity in the region. Spiritual factors cannot fully explain the increased strength of shrine-based Islam. It was closely related to the social, economic and political structure which saw transformation. The region faced a threat from a settler group with martial tendencies, the Gakhars who ruled Mianwali at that time and established their state at Muazamgarh (a town in Mianwali). Mian Ali considered the Gakhars as an impediment in the dissemination of Islam. He engaged Pathan tribes, who formed a dominant social and ethnic group in the region and possessed economic power with large tracts of land, to fight against the Gakhars and promised them success. He gave his blessings (baraka) and said that he acted as mediator for divine help between God and the Pathan tribes. The Gakhars were driven out of the land by the middle of the eighteenth century. Their warrior-like instinct also led them to resist rulers like the Sikhs when they tried to exact tribute.25 Their success helped them in establishing the ascendancy of the Pathan tribes over the rest. In return, the Pathan tribes recognised Mian Ali as their spiritual leader. He acted as arbitrator in

26

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam

cases of tribal feuds, which gave him control over the unruly Pathan tribes. The state authority was remotely located, therefore the tribes were attracted to Sufis for spiritual and material support. Thus a relationship of mutual assistance composed a mutually advantageous contract between Pathans and Mianas (Mian Ali and his descendants), called ‘Goga’,26 according to which Pathan tribes extended financial support for langar and particularly in the celebration of urs (the death anniversary of a Sufi).27 As Eaton noted, ‘through several non-religious ways, Sufis and shrines patronized the tribes and groups to weld them into the larger orbit of social and political influence, thus making the integration of tribes (the Pathans) feasible into its ritual and religious structure’.28 What Pathans gained was the Sufi’s support for establishing economic and political authority over their rival tribes, while Sufis received the economic assistance which was vital for the maintenance of religious institutions like khanqah and urs. It also went on to strengthen their authority over the common populace. This was a testament of Sufi traditions having a solid bond with the wider community. Particularly the migrant Sufis like Mian Ali, settling down in a new land, required material for building lodges for which land grants and cordial relations with the wider community were essential. This meant that the movement of Sufis into new regions mirrored broader migrations of communities of potential clients.29 The second factor was a continuous influx of Pathan tribes from the plains of Marwat and their settlement on the eastern fringe of Indus, which exacerbated the issue of settlement on land and also its ownership.30 Nomadic pastoralism represented the age-old occupation of tribes.31 In Mianwali, both horizontal nomadism, or movement in search of pasture within the same ecological region, and vertical nomadism, which is usually seasonal migration between complementary ecological zones such as highlands and lowlands, occurred.32 The times of hardship and stress such as drought drew tribes from desert and mountain regions to the river valley where they had to fight with sedentary tribes to get access to water.33 Competition for the control of grazing land among rival tribes formed an important backdrop to resettlement. This cultivated a sense of community with other tribesmen.34 Settled tribes were conscious of threats posed by groups from the outside challenging them for the control over limited resources. Attempts to acquire fertile lands by the ‘stronger and dominant and relegating the weaker to the margin, created a situation of “perpetual conflict” in which Sufis could play a valuable mediating role’.35 The entire situation vividly reflected inter-tribal fissures. Ernest Gellner, in his work on Morocco, has explored in depth the clash of interests which can occur in such a situation and the problem of maintaining order between groups of annual visitors and permanent inhabitants. In Morocco, hereditary Sufi emerged as a result of the need for ‘professional neutrals’ to negotiate with opposing interests. The lineage of these hereditary Sufis, who acted as glue and forged unity in society, connected them to the founder of the religion shared by both sides, and so excluded them from identification with either.36 Similarly in Mianwali, Sufis acquired influence and power as local mediators in cases of inter-tribal friction, provided Sufis

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam

27

shared the same genealogical link with the Pathan tribes. Having same ethnic origin, they were accepted as arbitrators, on whom different groups depended for peaceful co-existence, serving an essential function whether from the point of view of nomadic pastoralists or the more settled cultivator.37 The cults of Sufis created a network of political and cultural control, since these shrines attracted agriculturists and tribal people; they reinforced rural-urban interdependence.38 Mediation and militarization of a Sufi: A patron-client relationship The Sufi’s mediation between tribes and tangible and intangible support through militarization served as a patron-client relationship. The mediation between tribes and militarization developed in direct response to the social and economic functions carried out by the Sufis. Settlement and possession of land among too many hostile tribes was a constant challenge for them. Hence the socio-economic and political motivations received religious sanction. Sufis often came to be found in the places where competing sets of interests came into conflict with each other. This helped to explain the concentration of Sufis in riverside settlements such as on the fringe of Nala Gambheer Dhok Muhammad Khan; Shaykh Toor Bahi, from Niazi Pathan tribe, came to be settled here. Shaykh Toor Bahi was initiated in the Qadiriyya order. His piety and humanism attracted a large number of followers which included Hindus and Gakhars whom he initiated into dhikr without asking them to take an oath of allegiance for an initiation into the Sufi fold.39 His ancestor Abdul Karim Bahi (fifteenth century) came from Wana (Waziristan) and chose Musa Khel, a town in Mianwali, for his peaceful missionary activities.40 The Pathans of Musa Khel and Bori Khel formed the biggest constituency of his mureeds. He mediated between Musa Khel and Bori Khel41 Pathans, the principal tribes of Mianwali, in tribal feuds on settlement, ownership of land and control over spring water.42 He not only resolved such disputes but also laid the foundation of a small town called Sultan khel, where these Pathan tribes made permanent settlement and also retained a hold over water.43 Most of the Sufis were initiated in Qadiriyya and Naqshbandiyya orders with a stronger orientation towards sharia.44 They not only provided religious leadership and guidance but also had their involvement in political, social and economic matters. Shaykh Mehmood Bahi (b. 1875) being a case in point. He was initiated into the Naqshbandiyya Mujadidiyya order. He belonged to a Pathan tribe and acted as arbitrator between tribes in cases of tribal wars and family feuds. He professed that the highest form of devotion meant helping the poor, the distressed and the downtrodden. Syed Dost Muhammad too was a Sufi who migrated with the strongest Pathan tribe Taja Khel from Ghazni (Afghanistan) in the latter half of the eighteenth century and settled on the western fringe of Indus.45 He helped Taja Khels to lay the foundation of a new settlement called ‘Wanda Qureshian’. In return the tribe gave him a large tract of land comprising fifty thousand kanals where he established a madrasa and his khanqah.46 The

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uniformity of shariat and tariqat emerged as the local manifestation of Islam introduced by the Sufis. The factor which strengthened and justified the mediation of the Sufis was their genealogical link with the tribe which was crucial for the viability of tribal structure and its autonomy.47 The tribe as a social segment is based on the genealogical concept of social structure, so the values and attitudes of a tribal society are served by the tribal holy man.48 The Sufis in Mianwali were therefore classified according to their affiliation with tribal genealogy, which indicates precedence over the religiously based meta-genealogy of the Sufi order.49 The same tradition is practiced in the province of Khyber Pukhtunkhwah, where mullah, the religious figures who acted as tribal mediators, managed tribal jirga, and possessed religious and judicial authority because they were culturally engaged with Pakhtun society and participants in Pakhtun Wali (the unwritten cultural code of Pukhtun tribesmen).50 The Sufis who migrated from Afghanistan to India during the rule of Behlul Lodhi created a network of affiliation and Islamic brotherhood by linking the local people with the Sufi order. This Islamic identity transcended the boundaries of kinship identities. This helped Afghans to adjust themselves into Indian culture.51 Such was not the case in Mianwali. The Pathan tribes faced the threat of losing their identity in a new land inhabited by multiple ethnic identities, and the experience of diaspora life at large. Here the central concern was to protect the Pathan identity under the leadership of a Sufi, genealogically linked with the tribe. In the tribal Pukhtun society of Swat, the Sufis who did not possess a link with the tribal genealogy were outsiders to the Pakhtun jirga-style political assemblies and had no power or significance.52 Akbar S. Ahmed suggests that ‘the actual structure of the tribe did not involve religious authority in any form except in a situation where a tribe had to seize power in the absence of “traditional” maliki authority’.53 In Mianwali, Mian Ali and his descendants were the only Sufis who did not have a genealogical link with the tribes and yet mediated between them. The reason was not just their religious sanctity, but also opportunistic motives of forging political and economic hegemony over other tribes by using the support and religious influence of these Sufi figures. In Mianwali, the Sufi’s genealogical link with the tribes helped the Pathans to preserve their ethnic identity and hegemony among multiple ethnic identities; in return the tribes’ financial assistance legitimized the Sufi’s authority. In the nineteenth century the Sufis of the Punjab developed militant tendencies as a result of the militant resistance against the Sikhs. The Sufis perceived them as a threat to Islam.54 My assertion is that the rise to prominence of the Sufis in the case of Mianwali was realized in an environment of economic crisis and political decentralization.55 The relationship of mutual assistance between Sufis and tribes went beyond economic interests, and Sufis at times led their disciples against enemies. Descriptions of military mobilizations by Sufis were the most important accounts of religious leadership in the tribal areas.56 The social dictates by Sufis were strategically backed up by their lashkars in a tribal society. Shah

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Kazmi tried to martial his disciple tribes to fight against the Sikhs in 1838.57 These armies consisted of their disciples and the native villagers. He advised his mureeds to prepare a lashkar against the Sikh force and predicted victory for them.58 The Sufi convened lashkar to punish transgressors who had defied his directives. For the growth of religious politics, lashkar was used for the enforcement of their political decree.59 Militarization of the Sufi’s authority was crucially linked to the militarization of the tribal area’s population in general. The militarization of the Sufis contested their apolitical and pacifist image.60 The Sufi’s raising of lashkar symbolized his access to and recognition of his religious authority by various tribes.61 The militant mobilization and convening of lashkar was actually rooted in tribal issues of occupation of land and water, honour and pride. Any attempt to lay down weapons meant to prove one’s vulnerability. This implied that the underlying reason for such militarized action was rooted in the Pathan cultural code of defence and pride and the use of force to protect a tribe’s position. Hence ‘Islamic inclinations and Pathan culture’ welded together in the management of issues.62 The dispersed tribes that made up the tribal society of Mianwali were largely independent of each other. Surviving on subsistence-level agriculture in the villages indicated limited social interactions, and marriages were restricted by tribal genealogy. These issues gave rise to a complex system of inter-village and inter-tribal relationships which led to intense competitions between tribes. Cultural concern with the defence of honour lay beneath all the issues.63

Mass devotionalism, the baraka, Sufis and local communities From the eighteenth century onwards, hereditary succession replaced merit as the principle of succession.64 Hereditary succession contributed to the emergence of a class of sons of Sufis and enabled them to capitalize on the personality cult. The basis of succession passed from merit to blood, leadership passed from Sufis to sajjada nashin, membership passed from a fraternal order to a family, religious focus passed from the way (tariqa) to the personality of the Sufi. The elevation of dargah (shrine) into a central feature of the Punjabi landscape helped to forge a relationship between the Sufi and the local population.65 A number of shrines dotted the region which attracted a large number of devotees. The tombs and saint veneration created hierarchies of sacred space with economic and political implications as well as spiritual, moral and emotional contents. The presence of khanqah (the abode of living Sufi) along with dargah (the shrine of deceased Sufi) made the tombs of Sufis a focal point for Sufi-worship of the common devotees. The tombs of the saints became sites of special access to religious power, the power transmitted through spiritual charisma (baraka), both to the Sufis’ tombs and even more importantly to their living descendants. The exercise of mediation by these descendants of the Sufi came to define the dominant style of mediatory religious leadership, the hereditary custodian of the shrine known as sajjada nashin.66

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This witnessed the spectacular growth of a popular cult focused on the baraka and miraculous powers of the Sufi and on the shrine. We find two dimensions of this growing cult: 1) The extension of mass devotionalism into the countryside in the form of shrines, which emerged as their microcosm; 2) patronage of Sufis by the colonial state.67 The cult of Sufis grew when they received social recognition once their baraka were transmitted to people and benefitted them. One such way was giving taweez (amulets) to the masses. They saw in these taweez, a protection against evil, a source of good fortune or as the cure of an illness.68 The Sufis giving of amulets and the devotees giving of futuh (unasked gifts) in return provided the structural framework upon which the subsequent devotionalism of the shrine rested. In the religious sense, the taweez-futuh system served as a channel through which devotees were blessed by the Sufi.69 Distribution of baraka in society was fundamental to the construction of a saintly persona and conferring them a special and sacred niche within the social order.70 The devotees believed that the baraka shifted in the shrine of Sufi after his death. After the death of Mian Ali, the architectural presence of the shrine gave this migrant Sufi a permanent presence in his host society, in this way physically eternalizing his migration in brick and stone.71 It was the shrines’ physicality and durability that lent them such an important role in the transference of these geographical co-identifications.72 Mian Maluk Ali’s shrine was another example in this regard. One of the important eighteenth-century shrines, it was built in 1765, two miles south of Kundal, in tehsil IsaKhel.73 He was born on the first day of the lunar calendar, and therefore was known as ‘Chaanran’, the moonlight. A large number of devotees, predominantly pathans, thronged to his shrine every Thursday, believing in a miracle – that the western door of the shrine opened automatically at the time of ‘urs’, called ‘Bahishti Darwaza’(a gate leading to paradise).74 The annual ‘urs’ was celebrated here which was a centre of Sufi organization and congregational events.75 The shrines also served as an arena of social participation. They allowed for a redistribution of money, food, goods and services among followers, pilgrims, mendicants and beggars.76 Shrines as a microcosm of local Islam Shrines signified the mark of a distant, yet transcendent, cultural authority of the Muslim state and a local manifestation of larger culture; in another sense, shrines integrated local religious systems with the wider world of Islam.77 It was through shrines that Islam reached the crevices of rural societies and provided the masses with a manifestation of divine order.78 Sufis brought Allah and divinity within reach.79 Disederio Pinto explained in his article on Nizamuddin’s dargah how ‘the pilgrims believed that it was the Sufi master who made them accessible to God as he interceded on their behalf ’. The pilgrims said about Nizamuddin, ‘one does not approach the King (God) directly. First, one approaches the gate keeper (Amir Khusrau) and then the

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courtier (Hazrat Nizamuddin), leaving it to him to plead one’s case before the King, trusting fully that he will try his best to bring about a happy verdict. Hazrat Nizamuddin is the beloved of God and therefore God always listens to him’.80 Mianwali constituted what might be termed as the ‘baraka belt’.81 A consistent topographic presence of the Sufi shrines and the continued influence that their charisma cast over the lives of their communities also ensured the continuity of history. Saint veneration came to be established as Sufis responded whenever they turned to them in distress in the absence of the state and centralized authority. Most of the shrines of the seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were maintained by their traditional keepers. They might be either descendants of the Sufis or just the caretakers. They maintained shrine rituals, controlled pilgrims’ access to the saint and profited from the revenue generation accrued through the shrine.82 Many of these shrines were located in hilly and far-flung areas from where local tribes migrated in search of social and economic prospects. Moreover, the line of descent in most of these shrines died out and they turned into ‘dead’ centres of worship, occasionally visited by devotees. The Sufi, although dead and buried, was still considered active in the dissemination of spiritual inspiration and baraka. The shrines located in the riverine areas became ‘living institution’ as the bulk of the population moved there. These small distant shrines were also symbolic complexes, important for local people. The small as well as the large shrines provided points of orientation, linking Islamic macrocosm to local microcosm.83 Shrines symbolized plurality and fostered the traditions of open spirituality. In Mianwali, Hindus and Muslims existed as politically conscious communal groups; however they tended to mingle at the site of the shrine. A large number of non-Muslim devotees, Hindus and Sikhs visited shrines, initiated into the Sufi order without converting to Islam. The presence of people of different faiths at the shrine itself embodies the sacredness of the Sufi institutions such as langar, where everyone was fed irrespective of religious or caste affiliation. This was a significant departure from the established norms whereby caste distinction played a vital role in identity formation. Sufis did not believe nor did they deal in such hierarchical social categories which were embedded in discriminatory specifications. The people of various faiths nevertheless maintained their communal identity.84 These religious identities grew simultaneously along with less self-conscious, open-ended religious traditions.85 Most of the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Sufi shrines were inflected with revivalist tendencies along with Sufi ascetic practices. This indicates that the principal carriers of reformist traditions in Mianwali were migrant Sufis who did not consider the two traditions as opposed to each other, but overlapping. Most of these men belonged to organized Sufi orders, especially the Naqshbandiyya, Chishtiyya and Qadiriyya orders. Dada Musa Shaykh (1615–1704), a Sufi initiated in the Jalaliya Suhurwardiyya and Naqshbandiyya orders, strictly professed and practiced sharia. A Chishti Sufi Khawaja Sher Dil Khan (1873–1958) belonged to a Baloch tribe and had

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allegiance (bayyath) with Pir Mehr Ali Shah Golra (1856–1937), a reformist Sufi and the founder of the Chishtiyya shrine.86 There existed a fusion of shariat and tariqat in his khanqah. He followed the practices of dhikr and chilla and the celebration of ‘urs’. These examples vividly show that revivalist traditions along with Sufi ethos were the emerging Islamic traditions in the district from the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.87 People came from diverse backgrounds to the shrines for various reasons. There were those who were formally initiated into the Sufi order and were granted baiat (a pledge of allegiance to Sufi teachings); some sought help without being attached to the shrine for solutions to their problems. Some were key disciples, who had a mutually close spiritual relationship with their Pir. Some families had a longstanding tradition of discipleship.88 In the lives of the unprivileged, the shrine was a therapeutic institution89, curing a wide variety of afflictions like physical illness, mental disturbance and a range of personal problems, such as lack of progeny, the hardships of poverty, crop failures, natural calamities, litigation on land, tribal feuds, and so on.90 In these shrines the sick could be healed, the destitute found shelter – often representing the last refuge of marginalized social groups, they can be regarded as a ‘microcosm of local Islam’.91 This was vital in integrating the people with the shrine and Sufi. Shrines served as specialized loci where the mundane problems of the visitor could be addressed. One such particular problem was illness. The shrines of Hazrat Abdul Ghafoor Bahi (Mitha Khattak), Khaki Shah (Namal), Baba Khasa and Jalal Shah Kazmi were famous for the thaumaturgic powers of their Sufis who could provide various curative and therapeutic routines. Patients with leprosy, skin diseases and mental disorders were cured at these shrines. In this process of curing and treatment, the Sufi’s role encompassed spiritual and physical domains. The spiritual role was more important to the process of curing, in bringing the power and blessings of God from the spiritual to the physical world, by using his privilege of direct communion with God.92 The healing power of the Sufi was also embedded in the belief that Sufi had the ability to detect the social causes of illness and heal natural illness by deploying hidden forces.93 His spiritual role and the relationship between Sufi and his disciple lay at the heart of the entire organization of the Sufi orders in which an intense Sufi-disciple relationship was very vital. The therapeutic structure provided by this organization was effective due to the culturally patterned expectations of disciples in distress.94 What made these Sufis relevant in the lives of people were the multiple religious and non-religious tasks they performed for the masses. The Sufis were popular as they were socially engaged with the people at large. These holy men were concerned about founding villages, creating the local landscape of Mianwali, its wells, springs, settlements and mosques, which Nile Green termed ‘etiological legends’.95 In the hagiographic literature, there is very little mention of any miraculous act which brought forth a spring for the tribe and their herds, and more emphasis upon the practical work of Sufis in the local communities.96 Thus they tried to ensure the supply of

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basic amenities for the poor and the marginalized. Two such shrines of the eighteenth century were of Hafiz Muhammad Azeem, named ‘watte pat’ (the one who digs out stones), and of Makhdoom Haji, known as ‘Tatti dukaan wala’ (having a hot shop) for the prompt response people received to their prayers. They were famous for their miraculous powers and humanitarian works, devoted their nights to prayers and spent the entire day in repairing roads and excavating ponds, of which one still exists, known as ‘Bun Hafiz Jee’.97 The most interesting features were the shrines of Sufis known as nau-gazey (9 yards), bees-gazey (20 yards) and chalees gazey (40 yards) due to the exceptional length of their tomb cenotaphs.98 The relationship between Sufi and devotees shows a discourse of market relations and patronage was used by devotees to ‘explain’ their relation to the Sufi, alive or dead. Behind the altruistic pretence, visits to the shrine were in fact motivated by self-interest to alleviate mundane problems.99

Miracles, dreams and hyper-corporeality as instruments of Sufi authority The Sufi-disciple relationship was hierarchical, restricting proximity to a certain extent on one level, and on another level creating intimacy between the two. Sufi became the very centre of the disciple’s life, who disposed of his innermost feelings thought of his murshid (Sufi), interiorized his bodily features, and memorized the words that he uttered.100 The Sufi-disciple relationship was practiced in a particular context of man’s connection to God expressed in selfsurrender, culminating in ultimate union with God.101 The Sufi guided his disciple through his powers and baraka, which manifested itself in performing karamat (miracles), representing a temporary suspension of the natural order of things through divine intervention. Both were tied in a close relationship of mutual duties and responsibilities. Disciples wanted to be under the patronage and protection of their Sufi, and the latter wanted their disciple to look towards him for all help. While living in an environment afflicted by issues such as floods, droughts, epidemics, and diseases, they needed to appeal to a force greater than themselves which could mediate for them. The Sufi, with their abilities to perform miracles, needed to give them a sense of security against the daily uncertainties of life.102 A considerable amount of saintly activity was spent on protecting the movements of disciples, such as walks at night through the village. They needed to be protected from accidents, spirits, attacks by animals, travelling too long and across the river. Haji Qutbuddin narrated that he loaded a cart full of merchandise and set off for Bannu District. On his way during the middle of the night, a horrible looking evil spirit appeared on the road, holding a big stone in its hands. He sought help from his Pir, Fateh Muhammad Bhorwi. After a while the spirit said to him, your Pir is a perfect saint, so I will let you go, otherwise you would have been annihilated today.103

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Another disciple was serving in the army at Meeran Shah. His regiment was patrolling in the mountainous region of Waziristan. He lost contact with his companions and was suddenly surrounded by Waziris who opened fire at him. He sought help from his murshid by recalling him in his heart. Suddenly three or four explosions dispersed them and he managed to escape. These hagiographic stories indicate that when a disciple showed complete submission to his master, the latter provided them protection from powerful beings. The sensory functions and limbs of the disciple are subject to the Sufi’s will. This strength and power of the Sufi master made them appear as ‘hyper corporeal’, and transcending the confines of time and space in order to protect multitudes of disciples (mureeds).104 One thing which was common in all stories was that the master had the ability to protect his disciples in faraway places without leaving his khanqah. This also reflected the master’s long-range abilities and his control over supernatural things. Ghulam Rasul Khan Niazi narrated about his Sufi Kamaluddin Shah Chishti that he was sitting with his mureeds and suddenly he stretched his arm towards west. His arm turned wet. He told the people sitting around that one of his disciple was about to drown in the river, the disciple called to him for help and he pulled him out of the water.105 The issue of control brought Sufi masters and disciples into mutually affective relationships. Masters preserved their disciple’s bodily integrity in other crises as well, such as attacks by animals, evil spirits and enemy groups, or being lost while travelling.106 A very important Sufi characteristic mentioned in the hagiographic text was the master’s ability to be present in multiple locations at the same time. One of the key mureed of Pir Bhorwi, Ghulam Rasul, narrated that Mian Muhammad, the elder son of Pir Bhorwi, while staying at Multan with one of his disciples heard a human voice at the time of tahajud (midnight prayer) saying ‘come back to Bhor Sharif ’. Ghulam Rasul confessed that he also heard the same voice. On the same day two more disciples, Jahangir and Usman, who were also Pir Bhorwi’s khalifas, reached the khanqah. Both of them shared the same experience that they had heard Pir Bhorwi’s voice, asking them to reach Bhor Sharif khanqah.107 Another disciple who was lost in the tribal area suddenly heard his Sufi master’s voice; he looked around and found Bhorwi sahib sitting next to him and then suddenly disappeared.108 One of his key mureed Ata Muhammad Qureshi narrated that while on Hajj (pilgrimage), he found murshid with him during a ritual. Initially he thought that murshid was physically there, but when he advanced towards him, he disappeared.109 In the hagiographic literature, it is indicated that the master can make himself present at multiple locations at the same time. They can move, transform and transport their bodies long distances instantaneously. Being present in multiple locations, they coordinate and synchronize with their mureed at various places in order to carry out their protective duties.110 In some of these stories mentioned above, it is indicated that the master presented himself physically rather than protecting disciples through control over the environment. This power to demonstrate his presence at multiple locations reflected the breadth of his

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influence. His power to move through time and space showed that his body transcended the limitations usually placed on ordinary human bodies.111 Communication through dreams and visions was very significant in Sufi discourse and an important aspect of Muslim religiosity. The dream served as a significant medium for revelation and inspiration, as the Prophet (pbuh) received the earliest message of introduction of Islam in a vision.112 Ibn-e-Khaldun, said ‘God created man in such a way that the veil of the senses could be lifted through sleep, which is a natural function of man. When that veil is lifted, the soul is ready to learn the things it desires to know in the world of truth. At times, it catches glimpses of what it seeks’.113 In dreams a Sufi master and his disciple could forge a relationship and closeness. A Sufi master could protect his disciple even in his dreams, while the disciple was away.114 This relationship continued even after the Sufi proceeded to a heavenly abode. This reflected the closeness of ties between Sufi master and his disciple. Such a close interaction through dream took place only with key disciples. Hakim Sheikh Muhammad Abdullah, a disciple of Qadiri Naqshbandi Sufi Fateh Muhammad Bhorwi, narrated, ‘I was seventy years old and still desired to have a son, I went to the shrine of Bhorwi Sufi and prayed for an entire day. At night I got indication from murshid that I would have a son’.115 Muhammad Hussain Qureshi, another disciple of Bhorwi Sufi said that the Sufi came in his father’s dream, asking him to vacate the house as it was about to collapse, after a short time, the roof of the entire house caved in but the family remained safe.116 A supplicant could transmit their needs and wishes by thought, dream or vision to a Sufi. The deceased Sufi with his power of foresight could predict and pass on various things good or bad to his disciples through dreams. The dead Sufi was no less a continuing source of power and help. His shrine inherited his baraka which turned into a fount of spiritual power for his disciples. The hagiographic stories underscored the hyper-corporeality of the Sufi master which they used to move and transform their body. That ability was the most critical element in substantiating their powerful presence after their death. The hagiographic text showed that Sufis moved out of their graves and helped those who had a very close relationship with the Sufi master during his life. Mian Ali Noor Shah, the son of Mian Murad Wand, a Qadiri Sufi, visited his father and grandfather Sultan Zikria’s graves and recited fatiha. When he decided to leave, he did not find his horse there. He started walking on foot, and suddenly heard the sound of footsteps; he looked back, and a man clad in white dress said ‘I am your father Murad Wand, I give you God’s protection’.117 This was indicative that the Sufi master’s ability to move, his long range abilities and hyper-corporeality survived even after his death. The dead Sufi’s presence could be felt at his grave and his baraka continued to reach his disciple even after death.118 A vision of the prophet and founder of the Qadiriyya Sufi order Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jilani was a crowning achievement in the spiritual career of a Sufi and his disciple, particularly in the Qadiriyya khanqah. It was the desire

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of all disciples that the Prophet (pbuh) and Jilani visit them through dream. Only the very special disciples could have such coveted encounters in dreams. A khadim (caretaker) of Qadiri Sufi Fateh Muhammad Bhorwi narrated that while sleeping in his Sufi master’s bed, Hazrat Abu Bakr Siddique informed him of the presence of the Prophet (pbuh). Suddenly he woke up and saw his murshid (Sufi master) sitting on his prayer carpet, while casting a furtive look at him he said, these were secrets of God, never divulge your secrets to anyone.119 The introduction of followers to the Prophet was an acknowledgement of the wilaya (spiritual ability) of the Sufi master.

Sufi’s interface the with colonial state With the establishment of British control over the Punjab in 1849, politics in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century Punjab was shaped by the British imperial ideology, meted out by a class of intermediary rural elite.120 In the Punjab, closely interlinked structures of political power and religious organization remained embedded within the British imperial system.121 Gilmartin notes that ‘the construction of Sufi khanqahs, and later Sufi tombs, produced symbolic cultural outposts of the power of Islam in a land where local, tribal identities were of vital importance, and drew the tribes ultimately into the state’s political and religious orbit.122 The tomb became the physical heir to the Sufi’s baraka; the human heirs to his spiritual power were his descendants known as ‘sajjada nashins’.123 The exercise of mediation by these descendants of the Sufi emerged as a dominant style of mediatory religious leadership in rural Punjab.124 As Aubrey O’Brien described the perception of riverine folk, who believed that ‘Deity is a busy person, his hall of audience is of limited capacity, only a certain proportion of mankind can hope to attain to the presence of God, all humans require an intervener between them and God’.125 After the annexation of the Punjab, the British needed collaborators in the countryside whose interests coincided with those of the British Raj. They created a system of political control by preserving the landed interests of the local elite.126 As Mustafa Kamal Pasha describes, ‘Armed with a laissez-faire creed, the British viewed the old jagirdars and the other privileged groups of the ancient regime as guardians of the status quo’.127 The colonial state’s collaboration with Sufis and its interference in shrines aimed at wielding influence and deepening its authority among commoners who were already spiritually affiliated with the Sufis.128 In Mianwali, the Miana Sufis did not follow the policy of resistance towards the state but developed alliances. In colonial India, the policies of alliances and accommodation were pursued by well-established Sufis who enjoyed authority and status among communities, and resistance tended to be initiated by relatively marginal Sufis who had little following.129 The colonial rulers sought Miana Sufis as influential local middlemen to mediate their authority to the general population. Mianas were Sufi hereditary shrine families who appeared perfect to serve that purpose. Through Sufi pledges of allegiance, such hereditary Sufis commanded the

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loyalty of many thousands, and protected the interests of their wider communities.130 Mianas were the earliest and the only Sufis who acted as mediators between rulers and the ruled in the district. In the absence of a strong well-defined state framework, Sufis formed the central pillar in the structure of local political authority, serving as neutral arbitrators and as spiritual landlords with a stake in the status quo.131 The individual, spiritual and temporal influence of these Qadiri Sufis played a crucial role in constructing the system of collaboration and land grants. The British had identified the influential position and respect the Sufis possessed with the tribes, ranging from the landed elites to the humblest peasant. The process of expansion of Islam in Mianwali followed patterns experienced across India, but it was influenced by circumstances and conditions peculiar to the region itself. The increasing significance and dependence on Sufis stemmed from the type of society which constituted Mianwali and the developments that took place from the time that Sufis first started to arrive in the region. The Sufis carried out a series of basic functions, linking the nomadic and settled worlds, and bridging the gap between countryside and town which tribal chiefs could not. Sarah Ansari’s work Sufi Saints and State Power shows that social and economic changes weakened the tribal unit but strengthened the bond of piri-mureedi connection in Sind.132 In contrast, tribalism remained as a strong force in Mianwali because most of the tribes were led by their Sufis who performed basic functions to create for them a niche in the new society. The tribal leaders were migrants and they needed the support of natives to settle in this region. So it was the Sufis who became mediator between tribes, the state and ordinary people. Sufis and shrines’ patronage to clans gradually integrated them into their ritual and religious structures.133 Sikhs and the British both sought their cooperation in ensuring the smooth running of their administration. Their collaboration with the state gave them access to power holders and increased their influence among the masses. They used their influence among state authorities to improve the material welfare of their followers. The tradition of co-option was introduced in this region during the rule of Ranjeet Singh, when these Miana Sufis tried to develop good relations with the Sikhs. As a result Sikh rulers exempted local people from paying land taxes in lieu of peaceful relations with the Sikhs. In addition, the rights over lands, wells, breeding of cattle, collection of zakat in the villages, and a cash amount of Rs. 2000 annual for the maintenance of langar were also handed over to the sajjada nashin of the khanqah.134 One important reason for the growing relations with religious people was the considerable challenges the British encountered with the Pathan tribes, most of which they declared as criminal tribes.135 The support of the Sufis was crucial in establishing a well-developed framework of governance. The Miana Sufis rendered Lieutenant Edwardes their assistance in settling blood feuds and land disputes, which had until then taken many lives annually.136 In return, the British awarded charitable grants which helped the maintenance of khanqah and shrines. These religious grants were supplemented by revenue-free land

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(muafi). Individual sets of rules were drawn up to deal with them. Most of the concessions and grants were permanent arrangements and passed on to the successor.137 By granting lands, the sajjada nashins were thus incorporated into the class of landed, ‘tribally’ based leaders who formed a strong support for the British administration.138 Out of the three branches of family, the head of the second branch Mian Muradwand was famous for his reputation as a great mystic and known for his saintly miracles (karamat). Though he kept his ties with British rulers and helped in resolving tribal feuds, he still maintained the Sufi’s traditional seclusion from power structures. His son, Mian Ali Noor, represented the spiritual side of the family by maintaining the piri-mureedi tradition. He used to sell amulets (Quranic verses), whereas the heads of the other two branches became closer to the central power structure and were the beneficiaries of the state’s benevolence.139 Gradually Sufis were incorporated into more prestigious positions; the public distribution of izzat (honour) was one of the important elements of British patronage. The award of sitting with the viceroy at public and official meetings (Darbar) was of prime importance. Mian Sultan Ali was designated as Provincial Darbari. Mian Fazal Ali and his brother Abbas Ali were designated as Divisional Darbari.140 They were given this prestige in return for helpful activities which ranged from assistance in arresting criminals, resolving land disputes, maintaining law and order and the preservation of government authority. The recognition of the institution of sajjada nashin and his local identity was marked by the grant of this privilege.141 As Sufis moved closer to the central power structure, they supported British policies more to protect colonial interests than for the benefit of the masses. Mian Fazal Ali extended his influence to generate manpower as ‘military contractors’: the pir-mureed network marshalled people to enlist in the colonial army during World War I. Despite their disapproval, many Pathan tribes resisted fighting in the colonial army.142 Mian Maluk Ali and Syed Ata Muhammad Shah helped the government in suppressing an armed resistance put up by the people of a village during the war and received a jagir of Rs. 500 a year in recognition of their services.143 The intrusion of state power into Sufi institution(s) through land grants reinforced their social prestige, authority and personal wealth. The substance of religious authority extended beyond the pedagogic and divine intercessionary mandate of Sufi tariqa and became linked to temporal power.144 The success of the sajjada nashin depended on their ability to enhance the resources coming to the shrine both from the state and from devotees, and to effectively distribute those resources among biradari to increase their following. This was also crucial for the prestige of the dargah. Unlike the earliest Miana Sufis, the later generation did not act as hinges between the local religious and social needs and the wider world of Islam, but enjoyed their personal status and designations granted by the colonial state. Their focus on increased involvement in the power structure and extracting benefits were altogether incompatible with the standards of austerity and poverty espoused by the Sufis, which instilled resentment among their

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kinsmen (biradari). Subsequently it widened the distance between the Sufis and the masses.145 Sarah Ansari deals with the separation between sajjada nashins and people in a different way: she notes that sajjada nashin in Sindh directly relied on the creation and maintenance of ‘distance’ between themselves and their disciples, as the basis of their spiritual power revolved around the manipulation of the tools of charisma which could be effectively exercised by maintaining separation from the ordinary mass of believers.146 Nile Green also shows in his work on Aurangabad’s Sufi shrines that ‘narrative of interaction between saints and kings make up the most popular part of oral tradition of Aurangabad’s Sufi shrines’.147 Dealing with ordinary people, the Sufi is encountered through narratives, placing him in direct relationship with the rulers of the state.148 The religious influence of the sajjada nashins was even extended to the landed elites of the district, many of whom were their disciples. The authority of the Sufis was grounded in a world where local kin-based organization remained vital, in which local ‘tribal’ leaders served as mediators with the imperial government.149 The Mianas Sufis were closely linked to rural, ‘tribal’ elites by the ties of economic and social dependence and also by bonds of marriage. The ties of kinship were more crucial in binding the tribes and clans to shrines and Sufis than political and economic ties. Sultan Zikria was married to the daughter of Malik Yari Khan of Musa Khel, Mian Muhammad Ali was married to the daughter of Malik Ghazi Khan of Piplan, and Mian Hussain Ali was married to the sister of Malik Fateh Khan Tiwana of Mitha Tiwana. The significant point is that the landed elites marry their daughters to the Sufi/Pir and his immediate family, whereas the daughters of Mianas were strictly kept within the caste. In traditional Indian kinship terms, clientpatron relations among castes are structured by the tradition of bride giving. The bride giving groups are normally the clients of the bride receiving groups.150 This practice integrated diverse people into the religious culture. The later generations of Miana Sufis deviated from the traditional life of piety and devotion and lost their religious influence among people. The type of religious leadership provided by Sufis had changed with the changing character of their political position, which became weakened by the middle of the twentieth century as the British relied more on landed aristocracy for collaboration.151 Hagiographic literature provides very little information about the growing ties between Mianas and Chishti Sufis of Sial Sharif, perhaps to revive their waning religious status. The Pirs of Sial Sharif, Khawaja Shamsuddin Sialvi, Ziauddin Sialvi, Qamruddin Sialvi, and Mehr Ali Shah of Golra Sharif, were prominent among them.

Conclusion In the absence of a state or well-developed administrative framework, Sufi masters had long acted as peace brokers in local quarrels and tribal feuds or as intermediaries between the tribes, and later among the community and

40

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with colonial officials. Sainthood was continually proven by displays of power. The topographic presence of the shrines of the Sufi saints and their continued miraculous intervention in the lives of their communities made them inevitable. Ordinary people turned to Sufi masters in times of crisis, who provided social support and counselling, which may be defined as assistance and protection in tangible terms through financial aid, and through intangible terms such as emotional support. Sufis’ humanitarian work earned them devotees. Mediation and brokerage based upon spiritual and moral authority over religious clientele gradually eroded and was replaced by other purposes, much to the benefit of the colonial regime. With this piety among Miana Sufis, the leading clerics of the nineteenth century gradually began to decline. To preserve their fast-eroding religious authority, they were forced to develop spiritual ties with Chishti Sufis of Sial Sharif. Scholars of South Asian Islam tend to agree that the two-century-long rise of Islamic reformism made the saintly shrines and Sufi practice a receding and eventually redundant traditional mode of religious orientation. Shrinebased religiosity came to be viewed as something marginal. Reformists also launched attacks against some aspects of shrine-based Islam, calling them accretion against Islam. Nevertheless, shrines also managed to assert their perspective on Islam vis-à-vis pressure from reformist ulema. The practices at shrines – dhikr, chilla, the urs ceremony – and the popularity of shrines as religious institution in Mianwali defy any such notions of marginality. Most of the shrines espoused a pluralist tradition of shariat and tariqat which is evidence of the gradual permeation of reformist ideas in the region.

Notes 1 Acknowledgement: The first publication of a few selected parts of this chapter was in an article titled ‘Migrant Sufis and Shrines: A Microcosm of Islam in the Tribal Structure of Mianwali District’, International E-Journal of Advances in Social Sciences (IJASOS) 2, No. 4 (2016), 158–64. David Gilmartin, Empire and Islam: Punjab and the Making of Pakistan (London: I.B. Tauris & Co., 1989), 41; also see Richard Maxwell Eaton, ‘The Political and Religious Authority of the Shrine of Baba Farid’, in Moral Conduct and Authority: The Place of Adab in South Asian Islam, Barbara Daly Metcalf, ed. (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1984), 334. 2 See Alix Philippon, ‘Sufi Politics and the War on Terror in Pakistan: Looking for an Alternative to Radical Islamism’, in The Modern Sufis and the State: The Politics of Islam in South Asia and Beyond, Katherine Pratt Ewing and Rosemary R. Corbett, eds. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2020) 190. 3 From the seventh century onwards, Muslims assimilated and managed with different cultures without losing their local cultures and incorporated universal norms of Islam into their lives as revealed in the Quran. Eaton called this double movement. Geertz observed how the Javanese peasantry absorbed Islamic concepts and practices, into the same general Southeast Asian folk religion in which they had previously absorbed Indian practices, locking ghosts, gods, jinns and prophets into a contemplative, even philosophical animism. He called it ‘syncretism’. Richard Maxwell Eaton, India’s Islamic Traditions 711–1750

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam

4

5

6 7 8 9 10 11

12 13 14

15

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(New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003), 6; Clifford Geertz, Islam Observed: Religious Development in Morocco and Indonesia (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1968), 13–18. Charles Lindohlm, ‘Prophets and Pirs: Charismatic Islam in the Middle East and South Asia’, in Embodying Charisma: Modernity, Locality and the Performance of Emotions in Sufi Cults, Pnina Werbner and Helene Basu, eds. (London: Routledge, 1998), 209. None of the Orders in India was uninfluenced by their religious environment. Many branches became syncretistic, e.g. many practices were taken over from yogis, such as extreme ascetic discipline. J. Spencer Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), 22, 98. Werbner and Basu, The Embodying Charisma, 3. Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 40. Ibid. Gilmartin, David, ‘Shrines, Succession, and Sources of Moral Authority’, in Moral Conduct and Authority: The Place of Adab in South Asian Islam, Barbara Daly Metcalf, ed. (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1984), 222. Eaton, ‘The Political and Religious Authority of the Shrine of Baba Farid’. Also see Aubrey O’Brien, ‘The Muhammadan Saints of the Western Punjab’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 41 (1911): 511. The third and final stage of development of Sufism started from the fifteenth century onwards, in which Sufi gained a cult association called taifa. The baraka was transmitted to a saint’s descendants and also to his tomb. Direct communion with God was replaced by saint veneration and mass devotionalism. See Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam, 72, 102. Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur 1300–1700: Social Roles of Sufis in Medieval India (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1978), xxxi. Gilmartin, ‘Shrines, Succession, and Sources of Moral Authority’, 223. Rozehnal also called Sufism a ‘discursive tradition, an embodied practice that is experienced in discrete temporal and cultural locations’, see Robert Rozehnal, Sufism Unbound: Politics and Piety in Twenty-First Century Pakistan (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), 16–17. Geertz theorized Islam as ‘plural and embedded in taken for granted historically and culturally specific locales’, see Clifford Geertz, The Interpretation of Culture (New York: Basic Books, 1973), 87. Werbner and Basu, Embodying Charisma, 4 Historically Mianwali is cognized with several names, like ‘Dhunwan’ and ‘Shanuran’. It was also called ‘Raam Nagar’ and ‘Satnam’. Due to its location on the fringe of the river Indus it was called ‘Kachchi’. A thousand years earlier, Mianwali provided a corridor to the river Indus for many invaders. Turks, Afghans, Tajiks and Iranians used the same route to enter Punjab. This Cis-Indus territory encountered the tumult of the respective rules of Gakhars, Suris, Durranis, Sikhs and the British. Amir Taimur reached Multan by crossing the Thal desert, lying in the southern half of the district. Babar crossed the Salt Range and reached Bhera for expeditions. The Suri dynasty was expanded to the river Indus. There were frequent skirmishes between Gakkhars, who were at that time were the rulers of Mianwali, and Suri forces along the eastern bank of the Indus. Mianwali district is located in the northwest of the Punjab Province and had been most southwesterly district of the Rawalpindi Division of the Punjab. The district comprises of three sub-divisions, namely Mianwali, IsaKhel and Piplan. Mianwali is a bordering district of the Punjab province and has common borders with District Kohat, Laki Marwat and D. I. Khan. In 1901 Mianwali was given the status of district, separated from NWFP and incorporated into Punjab. There had been an influx of immigrants from various directions in the fifteenth century: Awans from the northeast, Jats and Biloches from the south and Pathans from the northwest. Pathans formed the

42

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam strongest group in Mianwali and owned large tracts of land there. See Liaqat Niazi, Tarikh-e-Mianwali (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publishers, 1994), 7. Saadia Sumbal, ‘Tribal Configuration of Mianwali: A Study in Colonial Dispensation’, M Phil dissertation, Government College University Lahore, 2008, 28. Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915 (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publishers), 23. Richard Maxwell Eaton, The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier 1204–1760 (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1994), 226. In Muslim hagiographic literature, Rauzat al-Auliya, Tazkira-yi Auliya-i Dar alZafar by Muhammad Ibrahim Zubairi, the first sufi to enter the Bijapur plateau, is designated as chalk of the dawn, cited in Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur, 19. Mianwali derived its present name from Mian Ali. He settled at a place called ‘Mian di Mel’ on the bank of the Indus about a mile north of the present town of Mianwali. Lepel H. Griffin, The Punjab Chiefs. Nile Green, ‘Migrant Sufis and Sacred Space in South Asian Islam’, Contemporary South Asia 12, No. 4 (2003), 494. Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur, 54, 55 Ibid., 133. Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 18. Denzil Ibbetson, Punjab Castes (Delhi: Low Price Publications, 2002). Alamgir Shah, Malfuzaat Maratib-e-Sultani, 56. Ibid. Eaton, ‘The Political and Religious Authority of the Shrine of Baba Farid’, 347. Green, Migrant Sufis and Sacred Space in South Asian Islam, 495. Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 24. Tribes in Mianwali could be divided into Jats (Siyars, Chhinas, Khokars) settled on the edge of the Thal or along the right bank of the river. They formed the bulk of the proprietors. Biluches settled in the southern part of the district shared land with large number of Jats already settled there. Biluches migrated in large bands with their tribal leaders. They remained engaged in small tribal wars in search of better land. Niazi Pathans who had settled in the Marwat Plains earlier were driven further eastward by the Marwats, a younger branch of the Niazi tribe, into IsaKhel and Mianwali where Niazi tribes captured land after expelling Jat inhabitants, reducing them to quasi serfdom. See Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 3. Sarah Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power 1843–1947 (Lahore: Vanguard, 1992), 26. Gazeteer Mianwali District 1915, 24. Nile Green, ‘Tribe, Diaspora and Sainthood in Afghan History’, Journal of Asian Studies 67, No. 1 (2008), 9. Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power, 26–7. Dale F. Eickelman, The Middle East: An Anthropological Approach (New York, 1981), 64. Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power, 26. Ernst Gellner, Saints of the Atlas (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2008), 33. Ibid. Local people used to call him Sheikh Toor Kandhan Tor (the one who makes walls move). The wall is a symbol of protection and strength, which signifies proselytization among the infidels is a hard job that he carried out. Kazmi, Sarzameen-e-Auliya Mianwali, 67. He was known as ‘Shensatargay’, the one with green eyes. He converted many non-Muslims through his active missionary work. The term khel means a group descended from one ancestor, smaller than a tribe. See Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 23. Ibid., 81. Kazmi, Sarzameen-e-Auliya, 113.

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

43

Ibid. Ibid., 79. Ibid., 81. Philip S. Khoury and Joseph Kostiner, Tribe and State Formation in the Middle East (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1990), 23. Akbar S. Ahmed and David M. Hart, eds., Islam and Tribal Societies: From the Atlas to the Indus (London: Routledge, 2013), 8. Sana Haroon, Frontier of Faith: Islam in the Indo-Afghan Borderland (London: Hurst & Company, 2007), 68. Ibid. Nile Green, Tribe, Diaspora and Sainthood in Afghan History. Frederik Barth, Political Leadership among Swat Pakhtuns (London, 1965), 17. Ahmed, ‘Tribe and State in Waziristan’, in The Conflict of Tribe and State in Iran and Afghanistan, Richard Tapper, ed. (London: Routledge, 1983). A number of scholars who worked on nineteenth-century Sufism use the term ‘neo-Sufism’ to denote a new tendency of Sufis’ involvement in the fight against colonial powers and indigenous elites, and political activities in nationalist movements and reformist movements in Southeast Asia, China, Caucasia and Africa. Neo-Sufism is identified with increased militancy and strict observance of sharia; a broader conceptualization of neo-Sufism includes the reformism initiated in certain Sufi orders. See Hussain Ahmed Khan, Artisans, Sufis, Shrines: Colonial Architecture in Nineteenth-Century Punjab (London: I.B. Tauris, 2015), 35. The concept of neo-Sufism is also helpful in understanding the militarization of Sufis in Mianwali. Fazlur-Rehman launched the concept of neo-Sufism. See Fazlur Rehman, Islam (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1979), 205–11. Voll (1995) and Evans-Pritchard (1949) cited in Sufism and the ‘Modern’ in Islam, Martin Van Bruinessen and Julia Day Howell, eds. (London: I.B. Tauris & Co., 2007), 10. See O’Fahey and Bernd Radtke, ‘Between Projection and Suppression, Some Considerations Concerning the Study of Sufism’, in Shia Islam, Sects and Sufism: Historical Dimensions, Religious Practice and Methodological Considerations, Frederick de Jong, ed. (Utrecht: M. Th. Houtsma Stichting, 1992), 70–82. Neo-Sufism is also defined as inherently transregional, eclectic and hybrid. See Mark Sedgwick, ‘Islamic Mysticism and Neo-Sufism’. David N. Lorenzen, ‘Warrior Ascetic in Indian History’, Journal of American Oriental Society 98, No. 1 (1978), 68. Haroon, Frontier of Faith, 85. Iqbal Khan Niazi, Tarikh-e-Niazi Qabail, 45. Kazmi, Sarzameen-e-Aulia Mianwli, 131. Ibid., 87. See Ewing and Corbet, Modern Sufis and the State, 89 Ibid. Ibid., 86 Ibid., 76 Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 56; also see Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur. From the mid-seventeenth century, not only Sajjada Nishin but also Khalifas were affiliated by close kinship ties as well as spiritual links. Ibid. Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 42. Eaton, India’s Islamic Tradition (711–1750), 267. Ibid., 265 Ibid., 266 Clancy-Smith, Rebels and Saint, Muslim Notable, Populist Protest, Colonial Encounter, 34. Green, Migrant Sufis, 496.

44 72 73 74 75 76

77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86

87 88 89

90 91 92 93 94 95 96

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam Ibid., 497. Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 76 Ibid., 78. Hans Harder, Sufism and Saint Veneration in Contemporary Bangladesh: Maijbhandaris of Chitagong (New York: Routledge, 2011), 11–12. Richard Kurin, ‘The Structure of Blessedness at a Muslim Shrine in Pakistan’, Middle Eastern Studies 19, No. 3 (1983) 2. Also see Clifford Geertz, Islam Observed: Religious Development in Morocco and Indonesia (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago press, 1968), 38. Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 41. Ibid., 264. A. R. Sayid, ‘Saints and Dargahs in the Indian Subcontinent: A Review’, in Muslim Shrines in India, Christian Troll, ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 240. Disederio Pinto, ‘The Mystery of the Nizamuddin’s Dargah: The Account of the Pilgrims’, in Muslim Shrines in India, Troll, ed., 121–22. Clancy-Smith, Rebels and Saint, 33. Gazeteer, District Mianwali, 75 Lukas Werth, ‘“The Saint Who Disappeared”: Saints of the Wilderness in Pakistani Village Shrines’, in Embodying Charisma, Pnina Werbner, ed., 87. Kazmi, Sarzameen-e-Aulia Mianwali, 107. Eaton, The Rise of Islam and the Bengal Frontier, 281. Mehr Ali Shah was the son of Sajjada Nashin of a Qadri shrine in Rawalpindi district; his ancestral link was with Ghaus Gilani of Uch. Mehr Ali studied Hadith and tafseer from leading ulema in the reformist tradition. He became a disciple of Shamsudin Sialwi of Sial Sharif, an important khalifa of Khawaja Suleman. Under his influence he transformed Golra into a major Chishti centre. He maintained deep reformist concern, focusing on the personal instruction of his disciples in the individual obligation of Islam. See Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 58–9. Ibid., 98. Abu Tahir, Fath-e-Mubeen (IsaKhel: Maktaba Fathia Bhor Sharif), 45. Jamal Malik, ‘The literary critique of Islamic popular religion in the guise of traditional mysticism, or the abused woman’, in Embodying Charisma, Werbner and Basu, eds., 189. For similar arguments also see Peter L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy: Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion (New York: Open Road Media, 2011). S. A. A. Saheb, ‘“A festival of flags”: Hindu-Muslim devotion and the sacralizing of localism at the shrine of Nagor-e-Sharif in Tamil Nadu’, in Embodying Charisma, Werbner and Basu, eds., 72. Malik, ‘The Literary Critique’, 189 Katherine Pratt Ewing, ‘The Sufi as Saint, Curer and Exorcist in Modern Pakistan’, Journal of Asian Studies, 18 (1984), 108. Werbner, ‘Langar: Pilgrimage, Sacred Exchange and Perpetual Sacrifice in a Sufi Saint’s Lodge’, in Embodying Charisma, Werbner and Basu, eds., 98. Ibid., 114. Green, ‘Tribe, Diaspora and Afghan History’. People in the villages of the district used to recite about Sultan Zikria, as: Thal Charandari Bakri, goat grazing in the village meadow, Madad awain sohna zikri, oh Zikri, come to our help, Roz-e-Zikri tay bati pai baldi hai, there is a light on the tomb of Zikri, Asan ghareeban di qismat pai haldi hai, which is a ray of hope for the poor and helpless, Khotian qismataan aithay theendian kharian nee, all those unfortunate, get their desires and aspirations fulfilled here. Shah, Maratab-i-Sultani, 89.

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97 Shah, Tazkira-e-Auliya Mianwali, 67. 98 Their extraordinary length, according to one interpretation, emerged from awareness of an older trans-regional Muslim geography of gargartuan tombs, belonging to early Arabian Prophets such as Hod in the hadhramat region of Yemen. Another interpretation is that the tomb was of nine Muslim warriors (nine-ghazi), which to some extent rationalizes the tomb’s exceptional length. See Nile Green, Making Space: Sufis and Settlers in Early Modern India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2012). 99 Werbner, ‘Langar: Pilgrimage, Sacred Exchange’, 98. 100 Ibid., 55–6. 101 Pinto, ‘The Mystery of the Nizamuddin’s Dargah’, 10. 102 Claudia Libeiskind, Piety on its Knees: Three Sufi Traditions in South Asia in Modern Times (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998), 226. 103 Khanqah Bhor Sharif was located in a small town, ‘Bhor Sharif’, in tehsil IsaKhel. The khanqah belonged to four main Sufi orders: the Qadria, Naqshbandia, Suhurwardia and Chishtia. At khanqah, the making of bai’at acquired great significance in the spiritual development of a person. The Qadriya and Naqshbandia orders were dominant but some murids were also initiated into the Chishtia and Suhurwardia orders. See, Ramzan, Fath-e-Mubeen, 333. 104 Shahzad Bashir, Sufi Bodies: Religion and Society in Medieval Islam (New York: Columbia University Press, 2011), 187. 105 Ahmed Nawaz Kamalvi, Mulfuzat Ashatul Kamal (Khawajaabad Sharif: Bazm-e-Kamal Pakistan, 2005), 38. 106 Ibid., 196. 107 Ramzan, Fath-e-Mubeen, 320–1. 108 Ibid., 326–7. 109 Ibid., 28–329. 110 Bashir, Sufi Bodies, 193 111 Ibid., 198. 112 Green, ‘Religious and Cultural Roles of Dreams and Visions in Islam’, Journal of Royal Asiatic Society 13, No. 3 (2003). 113 Rozehnal, Islamic Sufism Unbound, 176. 114 Ibid., 76. 115 Ramazan, Fath-e-Mubeen, 357. 116 Ibid., 359. 117 Shah, Malfuzat Maratab-e-Sultani, 173–4. 118 Liebiskind, Piety on its Knees, 92. 119 Ramazan, Fath-e-Mubeen, 338–9. See Bikram N. Nanda and Muhammad Talib, ‘Soul of the Soulless: An Analysis of Pir-Murid Relationships in Sufi Discourse’, in Muslim Shrines in India, Christian Troll, ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 129; and Jonathan Katz, Dreams, Sufism and Sainthood: The Visionary Career of Muhammad Al-Zawawi (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1996), 205. 120 Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 39. 121 Ibid., 40. 122 Ibid., 41. 123 Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur, 204. 124 Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 42. 125 Aubrey O’Brien, ‘The Muhammadan Saints of the Western Punjab’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 41 (1911), 511. 126 In 1901, Mianwali was separated from Bannu and included in Punjab, was accorded the status of a district with three tehsils, Mianwali, Isakhel and Bhakar, and became part of the Rawalpindi Division. The unruly tribesmen of the Bannu, DiKhan, Kohat and Frontier regions often engaged in clashes. In order to preserve the tranquility of the district, the tribes in Mianwali were settled

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127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137

138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151

Migrant Sufis and ‘rooting’ of Islam under the centralized British administrative setup. See Gazeteer, Mianwali District, 94. Mustafa Kamal Pasha, Colonial Political Economy (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 1998), 163. Also see, Ian Talbot, Punjab and Raj (Delhi: Manohar Publications, 1988), 48. Eaton, Sufis of Bijapur, 122. Green, Sufism: A Global History (Oxford: Wiley Blackwell, 2012), 192. Ibid., 194. Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power, 30. Ibid., 35 Eaton, India’s Islamic Traditions, 711–1750, 273. Shah, Maratib-e-Sultani, 42. Gazetteer of Bannu District 1883–84 (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publishers, 1887), 67. Griffin, The Chiefs of the Punjab, 295. Ibid. A sanction was given in 1879 to the continuance of a jagir of Rs. 1,200 to the family. Of this amount, Rs. 660 was to be held by all the members on ancestral shares, and the remainder as sardari allowances for the current leading men of each of the three branches. Mian Hussain Ali, the son of Mian Chiragh Ali (head of the first branch) mediated between tribes and disposed of difficult land cases. He was granted Rs. 500 for the maintainence of langar, Rs. 200 fixed for the assessment of taxes were exempted and a cash amount of Rs. 300 was fixed permanently. His only son Sultan Ali was designated as magistrate for Mianwali and seven surrounding villages. He was granted Rs. 100 as Inam Sufaid poshi and Rs. 300 for Dastaar Mukhtari and maintanence of langar. Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 52. Shah, Maratab-e-Sultani, 56. Griffin, The Chiefs of the Punjab, 296. Ansari, Sufi Saints and State Power, 48. D. J. Boyd, Esquire, ICS, Record of the War Services of the Mianwali District (1914–19) (Lahore: Civil and Military Gazetter Press, 1922), 1. Ibid., 6. Haroon, Frontier of Faith, 38. Shah, Maratab-e-Sultani, 78. Ansari, Sufi Saint and State Power, 35. Nile Green, ‘Stories of Saints and Sultans: Remembering History at the Sufi Shrines of Aurangabad’, Modern Asian Studies, 38, 2 (2004), 424. Ibid,. Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 63. Eaton, India’s Islamic Traditions (711–1750), 276. Malik Ameer Muhammad Khan, his son Malik Muzafar, Malik Muhammad Qasim of Chakrala, Khan Bahadur Abdul Karim Khan of Isakhel, Malik Zaman Mehdi Khan and Khan Saifullah Khan, and many more. See Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 78.

2

Reformist Islam and Sufism A dialectical religious identity

The perception of Islam was mediated through centuries-old tradition, which was tangibly inflected by Sufi ethos. Islam introduced in this region was shaped by the conformity of sharia and Sufism (shariat and tariqat), permeated through Sufi khanqah, deeply invested in the Sufi ethos, and emerged as the local face of Islam. The interface of religion with modernity tended to standardized religion and particularly its performative aspect. Towards the last decade of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century, Islamic law and mysticism came into conflict with each other. The central focus of this chapter is on the emergence of two parallel reformist trends that emerged in the last decade of the nineteenth century, i.e. the Deobandis and Barelwis, contesting and intercepting each other. It explores by examining the competing and disparate articulations of tradition and reform which constructed nineteenth century Islam in modern South Asia and turned it into a contested terrain. The Deobandi-Barelwi controversy was generated by contrasting rationalities about theological issues which constructed boundaries between denominations, rituals and discourses of law and mysticism/Sufism. The emphasis of these reformist movements was on professing the puritanical and pristine version of Islam in Mianwali, which was ostensibly steeped in the local cultural traditions, and hence had acquired deviationary practices and moved closer to the polytheistic traditions of Hinduism. Therefore the popular/local Islam was predicated on the traditions and the customs which were viewed by reformists as essentially anti-Islamic. This chapter argues that Islamic reformism established itself in the district but could not displace the influence of traditional shrine-based Islam. Reformist ideas held currency only if they were closely tailored to mystical ideas and practices. An outright nullification of the Sufi ethos was not acceptable to the elite or to the common people of the district. The chapter also examines the process of religious revivalism, rejection or partial acceptance by the Deobandi ulema of shrine-based Islam. This had triggered conflict between Barelwi (followers of shrine-based Islam) and Deobandi ulema, leading to polemical debates and fatawa (religious edicts) writing. This leads to an exploration of when the Deobandi contestation of DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-3

48

Reformist Islam and Sufism: A dialectical identity

Sufism entered into Mianwali’s social and political context; how was traditional shrine-oriented Barelwi Islam affected by Islamic reformism? To what extent did Deobandi missionaries assert their authority and adapt to the shrine-oriented Barelwi Islam, and to what extent was it affected or contested? Tension between reformist Islam and local culture steeped in shrine-centred Islam forms the core theme of this chapter. The chapter is divided into three sections. The first section explores how the local religious landscape of Mianwali was constituted by hybrid and pluralist traditions. The two reformist trends, Deobandis and Barelwis, espoused the uniformity of sharia (modernity) and Sufistic ethos (tradition). Barelwi orientation was not just saint worship, but also represented textual theology; similarly the Deobandis were closely tied to the mystical dimension along with sharia. The congruence of the two came to be established as the popular form of Islam. The second section examines a contestation between the two denominations. It seeks out how a Deobandi ideologue who preached puritanical Islam with an outright rejection of Sufi traditions and contested the Ahl-e-Sunnat’s concept of Prophetology was greatly revered by the Barelwi denomination. This evoked conflict and strife between the two denominations which fleshed out distinct religious identities and opened a tradition of takfir (exclusion). The third section examines how elites as colonial intermediaries resisted the rise of religious and national consciousness which obstructed the dissemination of transmission of knowledge and sharia. With the onset of British colonialism and loss of political sovereignty, nothing was more urgent to the Muslim elite than securing the boundaries of faith from internal and external threats. The late nineteenth century ideological integration of Sunni Islam in northern India as manifested in the emergence of competing normative orientations gave rise to an intensive polemical debate. All reformist groups – Deobandi, Barelwi, Ahl-e-Hadith and Ahl-al-Quran – participated vigorously in the polemical warfare.1 The most well-known were the Deobandis and Barelwis. The scholars who opposed shrine-based devotional practices and celebration of the Prophet’s birthday (maulud) were viewed as proponents of reform, law and puritanical Islam, identified with the Deobandi school. Those who defended shrine-based practices were categorized as advocates of popular Islam and mysticism identified with Barelwism. The dispute involved the founder of the Barelwi school, Ahmed Reza Khan Barelwi, and his Deobandi counterparts, including the pioneers of Deoband Qasim Nanautvi and Rashid Ahmed Gangohi and their successors such as Khalil Ahmed Saharanpuri and Ashraf Ali Thanwi.2 Despite their affiliation with the same Hanafi school of Sunni Law, these two groups were in opposition regarding the limits of the Prophet’s normative model and its institution in the public sphere. Ahmed Reza Khan, one of the instrumental figures in late nineteenth century Sunni Islam in India, provided an intellectual basis for Barelwi Islam. In the 1870s and 1880s, the Ahl-e-Sunnat movement emerged under Khan’s leadership; the followers of the movement called themselves Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jammat.3 The movement centred their vision

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of Islam on the Prophet; they viewed themselves as ‘reformist’ and traced their intellectual heritage to the Shahwali ullahi tradition. Khan strongly believed in Nur-e Muhammadi, that prophet Muhammad (pbuh) being created with the divine light, beliefs about the dead saints, their intercession with the Prophet on behalf of the living, and the Prophet’s unique knowledge of the unseen, paying great respect to the Prophet in his religious practice as maulud ceremonies (celebration of Prophet’s birth) and urs, including the celebration of eleventh day of each month (gyarveen), in commemoration of Abdul Qadir Jillani.4 Ahmed Reza wrote a series of fatawa in response to several questions about contemporary religious groups and targeted leading ulema associated with Deoband and Ahl-e-Hadith such as Shah Ismail, Rashid Ahmed Gangohi and Nazir Hussain Dehlawi.5 He concluded that each was in one way or other guilty of false belief, hence declared them bud mazhab (wrong belief holders), gumrah (those who lost their way) or murtad (apostate), which subsequently led to an intense polemical debate.6 These antithetical views were considered in scholarship as a binary between Deobandis and Barelwis. One major problem in this binary is that both were major Sufi masters as well as prominent scholars of sharia (law). Ahmed Reza Khan’s Barelwi orientation was not just saint veneration, but also represented a highly literate theology. Similarly for the Deobandis, law and Sufism were part of a common ethical programme that could not be divided into oppositional binaries. This chapter contests the approach through which the Deobandi-Barelwi controversy is seen through binaries such as legal/mystical, exclusivist/inclusivist and reformist/traditional. The chapter shows through a close interrogation of the Deobandi-Barelwi polemics that the manifestation of a divide between the mystical and legal traditions in Islam or between Islamic law (sharia) and Sufism is a distorted binary construction. These two traditions are integrated, overlapping with liminal boundaries. The polemics show there are competing and disparate understandings of tradition and reform. This binary construction ignored the fact that following the Sufi path requires adherence to the dictates of the law. Sufi considered the law as the first step towards higher spiritual refinement. In Sufi thought the relationship between law and Sufism is presented not in the form of an oppositional binary but each in congruence with the other7. These binaries are a Western orientalist construction. The concept underpinning this narrative is that Islam represents a linear spectrum of views ranging from puritanism to Sufism.8 Following this narrative, Muslims can be compartmentalized into belonging to either one of these dualistically opposed categories. My point is, interpreting the contested terrain of South Asian Islam through binaries obscures the conceptual differences between the two denominations on theological issues which actually generated conflict. Drawing upon Ingram and Tareen’s position, this book argues the BarelwiDeobandi disagreement centred on hermeneutics and practice. While disagreeing vehemently on the interpretation of tenets, the two denominations agreed on the indispensability of the law and mysticism. The major conflict was on the

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Reformist Islam and Sufism: A dialectical identity

concept of Prophetology.9 Ahmed Reza Khan’s vision of Islam had centred on the figure of the Prophet, which became a hallmark of Barelwi Islam.10 He exalted the figure of the Prophet, while Deobandis believed in the normative model of the Prophet. Ulema asserted and contested their authority in defining the Prophetic normativity differently and antithetically. Khan’s disagreement with Deobandis was premised on hermeneutical differences that cannot be approached through simplistic binaries such as reform/anti-reform and modernity/tradition.

Proliferation of reformist Islam in the tribal social formation The scholars who were trained in madrasa and were engaged in an intellectual interaction with Delhi or Deoband espoused reformist traditions in their khanqahs and carried them to the tribal peasant society of Mianwali in the late nineteenth century. Reformist Islam permeated in a society where the average Muslim had no access to the religious scriptures of Islam; even the knowledge of mulla in the mosque was derived from the ‘incomplete’ education that he had received in the village madaris, where the turnover of students was disappointingly low. He could not be expected to effectively preach and teach textual knowledge, i.e. Quran and Hadith. A tradition of uniformity of sharia and Sufism was introduced through migrant Sufis in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; however, active preaching went across the district through Barelwi khanqah Bhor Sharif and particularly Deobandi khanqahs Sirajia and khanqah Hussainia Naqshbandiyya in the last quarter of the nineteenth century. The aim was to bring the community to the puritanical way of life, insisting upon a literal application of Quran and sunnat. This was the first concerted effort by ulema to break the hold of shrine-centred Islam. Mostly peasants were Muslims, eking out their livelihood from agriculture. On the socio-political ladder they existed on the lower rung. Very many of them subsisted on raising cattle or herd economy. Keeping both pastoral and agricultural means of livelihood was a common practice.11 Some of them were artisans, craftsmen and labourers. The Hindus constituted merely 25 percent of the entire population, but controlled a significant proportion of the trade and commerce of the district. They were tended to acquire more education and professional knowledge which helped them in seeking employment in the government service and thus gaining a central position in the town.12 Economically affluent Hindus dominated Muslim peasants. Colonial economic policies such as land settlement, the introduction of private property and the development of a cash nexus between the state and peasantry developed a class of Hindu moneylenders. Colonial policies increased the dependence of Muslim peasants on these moneylenders. The exploitation and economic disparity also created resentment between the two communities.13 Socially they interacted, attending each other’s marriages and festivals and visiting shrines, but Hindus maintained their separate religious identity, signifying the presence of communal sentiments. Nakra corroborates that point

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by stating that ‘this intermingling tended to end when it came to food, and often a hawker selling exclusive Hindu food chanted Hindu roti (bread), Hindu pani (water)’.14 Despite the numerical predominance of Islam, encounters between communities not only resulted in maintaining diversity (independent spaces) in terms of rituals and practices, but also in creating a certain degree of ‘hybridity’. Thus cultural differences coexisted with cultural hybridity.15 Until 1947, the district exhibited distinctly rural features. Manufacturing was scarce, cotton cloth and iron tools used for agricultural purposes were made locally at the village level.16 The colonial government manifested itself in the centres of civil and military administration. New railway routes gave a bit of impetus to commercial agriculture. As Chris Bayly remarked in the Birth of the Modern World, ‘tiny industrial classes were made up of “peasant disguise” rather than urban proletariat’.17 In Mianwali the peasant community was pitted against unpredictable and unkind nature. They lived a life without much protection against unforeseen difficulties, exposed to powers that they could not control. The desire to control nature distinctly affected and shaped their vision of religion and predisposed them to religious thinking and supernatural explanation.18 Pastoral nomadism as opposed to a settled agriculture was economically more precarious and made its practitioners more dependent on God. Peasants’ religion was practical and utilitarian, intimately tied to their environment and needs, the problems of the yearly cycle of cultivation, and protecting crops and animals against natural hazards. Peasants’ religiosity reflected their view of the world, as locally conceived from the immediate environment.19 Therefore every peasant of this riverine area must have a Pir, who was approved because of their magical powers and not for piety or spiritual qualities.20 Sir Herbert Edwardes described the religious beliefs of people of the border district of Bannu of which Mianwali was a tehsil in these words: A well-educated man will in all probability be religious, but an ignorant is certain to be superstitious. A more utterly ignorant and superstitious people than the Bannuchis I never saw. The vilest jargon was to them pure Arabic from the blessed Koran, the clumsiest imposture a miracle, and the fattest Fakir a saint. Far and near from the barren, ungrateful hills around, the Mullah and Kazi, the Pir and the Sayed descended to the smiling vale armed in a panoply of spectacles and owl-like looks, miraculous rosaries, infallible amulets, and tables of descent from Mohammed. Each new-comer, like St. Peter, held the keys of heaven; and the whole, like Irish beggars, were equally prepared to bless and curse to all eternity him who gave or him who withheld. These were ‘air-drawn daggers’ against which the Bannuchi peasant had no defense.21 Socially embedded religious beliefs linked to Sufi/Pirs and their miraculous powers were needed more than what sharia could offer them.22

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Conformity of sharia and tariqa: A local face of Islam The Deobandi and Barelwi ideologues were visibly tilted towards religious reform but they had also adjusted themselves to the existing beliefs and practices prevalent in the society. The two Deobandi khanqahs diverged from each other in terms of their approach to theological thinking. Khanqah Sirajia espoused tariqat within the confines of sharia. Its moderate disposition became acceptable among people, whereas khanqah Hussainia’s puritanical streaks and contestation of all that was revered by the Barelwis as part of the Islamic way of life, such as the institutions of maulud (Prophet’s birthday observances), urs (death anniversary), fatiha (prayers for the dead) and above all Prophetology, evoked conflict between the two denominations. Khanqah Bhor Sharif23 and khanqah Sirajia, marked by their Barelwi24 and Deobandi25 thoughts respectively, espoused unity of shariat and tariqat which became the local face of Islam. Both Barelwi and Deobandi remained loyal to the cornerstone of the Naqshbandi-Qadri and Naqshbandi-Mujadidi worldview with a strict emphasis on sharia, derived from the earliest proponents of khanqahs. They continued to draw upon the spiritual resources of their predecessors, but at the same time redefined their practices and drew their intellectual principles from Abdul Qadir Jillani and Ahmed Farooq Sirhindi, and Shah Waliullah and Sirhindi, respectively.26 The reformist Sufi Fateh Muhammad Bhorwi (1828–1948),27 the ideologue of Barelwi khanqah Bhor Sharif, typified reformist traditions, exerted influence by primitive folk religion with its amulets (taweez), a sophisticated intellectualism in a framework of esoteric doctrine as well as a strict manifestation of shariat. Bhorwi not only prioritized sharia over Sufism but also inculcated reformist practices and perspectives in his disciples while positioning himself firmly within the Barelwi tradition. In the nineteenth century the Qadiris, like the reformist Chishtis and Naqshbandis, prided themselves on their adherence to sharia norms while at the same time maintaining a firm commitment to the ties of the piri-muridi bond, the shrine, and the urs.28 A close association with Syed Ghaus-ul-Saqlain on the Sufi path was central to his theology. He initiated into four major Sufi silsilas: Naqshbandiyya, Qadriyya, Chishtiyya and Suhurwardiyya.29 Barbara Metcalf mentions how initiation into multiple orders and an open, inclusive notion of spiritual authority became a tradition in the nineteenth century.30 However it is instructive to note that connection with multiple Sufi orders was symbolic, as the Sufi order’s identity was exclusive and ritual practices were controlled within the boundaries of particular silsila. Bhorwi’s early education was traditional in a local madrasa under the tutelage of Qazi Noor Kamal Hashmi. He received formal instruction and training in Persian curriculum,31 Quranic interpretation (tafsir), Hadith, theology (kalam), and the intricacies of legal interpretation (fiqah, usul-ul-fiqah). A deep veneration for the Prophet Muhammad, Abdul Qadir Jillani and Ahmed Farooq Sirhindi was the hallmark of this khanqah. Barelwi greatly revered Jillani as Ahmed Reza Khan called him Qutb (axis or pole), ‘on [whom] government of the world is believed

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to depend and explained the invisible hierarchy’. This invisible hierarchy was also explained by Ahmed Reza Khan.32 Padwick explains, ‘while the Shifaat [intercession] of the Prophet is his people’s great hope for the life of the world to come, [Abd al-qadir Jilani is one of four] intercessors’.33 The expression ‘Ya rasul Allah’ was very closely associated with Ahl-e-sunnat – the Prophet was believed to be hazir-o-nazir, present and seeing.34 The belief of invoking shaykh Jillani’s help with the words ‘Ya Ghaus’ was also in the same context. This intercessionary role of Jillani was called shirk by Deobandi ulema in the district.35 His religious education included years of rigorous spiritual training (suluk) with an acquaintance to inner dimensions of Sufi doctrine and ritual practices, supplemented by extra spiritual exercises (mujahida), including meditative dhikr (the remembrance of God) and contemplation (muraqaba). His spiritual exercises were sometimes of a shamanistic type and at other times linked to the refined sensibility of Persian and Arabic poetry.36 These spiritual exercises included living veiled for 14 years for spiritual retreat (chilla) in isolation, and frequent muraqaba (spiritual communion) at the shrines of local Sufis and mystics like Mian Nawab (Manda Khel), Khasa Baba, Shaykh Neka, Mian Maluk and Mian Murad Wand.37 His image of an ascetic, miracle-making holy man helped him to widen his constituency of disciples. The constituency of disciples mainly constituted of rural folk looking for protection from evils and disasters in his amulets and miracle making abilities. His interventions in the ordinary course of nature, from trifling affairs of individuals to an influence over political events, were enormously useful in winning the devotion of the local population. He believed tasawwuf (the act or progress of being a Sufi) to be guided by sharia, which is a clear evidence that Sufis consider sharia as the first step towards spiritual refinement. The conformity of law and mysticism and tradition of open spirituality in his khanqah contributed to his popularity and drew to him a following which included non-Muslims who initiated in his silsila without converting to Islam. Like all Ahl-e-Sunnat ulema, Bhorwi supported urs and the intercessionary role of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), who was believed to be Hazir-o-Nazir, present and seeing.38 He combined this emphasis with a deep concern for personal adherence to the obligations of the sharia, and emphasized the reforming mission of the Naqshbandiyya39 order within the rural organization of khanqah. Bhorwi stressed tasawwur-e-shaykh by quoting Ahmed Farooq Sirhindi (1563–64 AD), the attainment of salik’s (disciple) informal connection with shaykh was a perfect manifestation of a mutual relationship. This is the most assured way to approach Allah.40 The Deobandi khanqah Sirajia Mujadidiyya41 also epitomised a reformist agenda, advocating sharia steeped in Sufi traditions. Abu Saad Ahmed Khan (1878–1941),42 the founder of the khanqah, received his early religious training from his mentor Khawaja Usman Damaani and his son, Khawaja Sirajuddin. Both stressed obedience to sharia, preaching (tabligh) and a close relationship between Sufi and disciple. They firmly kept with the longstanding practices of Naqshbandiyya silsila which included a daily regimen of extra spiritual exercises

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(mujahida), including supererogatory prayers, meditative dhikr (the remembrance of God) and contemplation (muraqaba). They considered teachings of manqulat as significant in bringing people closer to the teachings of Hadith and jurisprudence along with tasawwuf (mysticism). Under their influence, Abu Saad Ahmed Khan’s central concern was to provide guidance to Muslims for the conduct of their lives, and to work for community solidarity; an accommodative, mutually tolerant approach to theological and sectarian controversies were the defining features of this khanqah. The primary objective of the khanqah became to profess and preach correct practices among Muslims and a proper interpretation of Islamic law.43 Khan espoused and also emphasized the attachment (tawajjuh) between shaykh and individual disciple. Training in the Naqshbandiyya Mujadidiyya suluk was of prime importance in this khanqah, which rested on the master-disciple relationship. He taught in his khanqah that the core of Sufi transmission was the fusion of prayer and meditation practices, concentration on the relationship with the master (shaykh) associated with the ‘dhikr’, the recitation of the Arabic names of God mentioned in the Quran. He considered Sufism as inseparable from Islamic legal norms and from Islamic ethics and politics. Like Sufis, he believed in mediatory Sufism based around ritual concentration on the image of shaykh. He was involved in an intense activity of daily prayers, dhikr and muraqaba, augmented by prolonged periods of isolation. His temperament and lifestyle was reflected in his khanqah which was epitomized by sobriety and careful attention to the dictates of propriety and etiquette (adab). He championed Sufism as the most complete and efficacious mystical path.44 Two things were extremely important for Abul Saad: first was the fundamental spiritual connection between him and his Sufi master which was rooted in loyalty and unwavering trust, and second was the tawajuh (attachment between shaykh and disciple) of shaykh. A complete submission was a vital precursor to spiritual growth. The Sufi-disciple relationship was mediated through adab (respect), which moulded characters and constructed social relations, and was also an essential prerequisite for suluk.45 The discursive overlap between Deobandis and Barelwis, legal, theological, and mystical, confutes facile categorization of Deobandis as law-centred reformists and Barelwis as mystical counter-reformists. Articulation of sharia-based models for faith and practice in the reformist Sufi milieu brought about convergence in two approaches in the khanqah: the first was reviving the fundamentals of faith, observance of rituals and strict adherence to sharia and Sunna; the second was cleansing prevalent modes of Sufi practices and sets of beliefs which contradicted sharia and called them ‘accretions’. As Barbara Metcalf maintained, the concern about correct beliefs and practices in consonance with classical texts was of prime significance for Deobandi ulema.46 Sufism as a tripartite entity has three intersecting and mutually constitutive dimensions: literary, institutional and devotional. The khanqah’s emphasis was on imbibing the institutional and literary aspects of Sufism and contesting the devotional aspect. The areas of

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convergence and overlap in the reform agenda of Deobandis also included critiques of everyday religious life. Rituals and devotional practices were contested terrain, represented by the local interpretation of Islam. The doctrinal orientation of khanqah Sirajia was marked by a rejection of all practices for which no justification could be found in the foundational texts. Deobandi critiques of the excesses of Sufi devotionalism were not intended to undermine Sufism itself, but rather were intended as internal criticism to reform it from within. The khanqah’s moderate and scrupulous disposition towards theological conflict between Deobandis and Barelwis forbade the followers to be part of any religious or sectarian group and opposed the rise of sectarian identities. This mild approach helped in developing a large constituency of disciples. Religious education and its practices in the khanqah became intellectually and financially independent from government aid. Most of the disciples were ulema or religious teachers at madaris. Some of them owned land and extended financial assistance to run the khanqah and madrasa. The flow of funds coming from disciples made the khanqah autonomous from the state and more dovetailed to the affairs of the local community. Abu Saad denounced the elements of colonial modernity and expressed how he despised British civilization and the English language, stressing upon instructions both in maqulat (rational sciences) and manqulat (traditional sciences). Exclusionary tradition of issuing takfiri fatwa against rival group had not been the temperament of khanqah. However, a strict exclusionary attitude was demonstrated towards the Ahmadiyya community as Khatm-e-Nabuwwat remained a prime issue at the khanqah. Commenting on the issue of the Shahid Gunj mosque, he wrote a letter to the leader of Ahrar, Ataullah Shah Bukhari (1892–1961), and emphasized that the real significance did not lie with the protection of the mosque but in the solidarity and integrity of Islam; he identified ‘Qadiyaniat’ (claim of prophesy) as the only threat to the unity of Islam.47 He himself did not participate in the anti-Ahmadiyya movement or even in any political activity despite his connection with ulema of Deoband and Ahrar such as Anwar Shah Kashmiri (1875–1933), Habib-ur-Rehman Ludhianvi and Atta Ullah Shah Bukhari, whom he occasionally invited to hold religious debates and seminars in Mianwali; however, he did not identify himself with any particular religious group. Later, his successors Maulana Abdullah (d.1956) and Khan Muhammad became active members of Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Islam in Pakistan.48 The conceptual differences between Deobandis and Barelwis on the Prophetic normativity were never discussed in his khanqah. The authority of the Prophet and the role of Hadith were central in Deobandi education and in their construction of authority; hence, the teaching of Hadith literature gained primacy in his madrasa Talim-ul-Quran adjacent to the khanqah. Like all Deobandis, he had purist and literalist leanings in the traditions of Shah Waliullah. Khan advocated a complete return to the Quran and the Prophetic tradition (Hadith). He responded to all intellectual and religious questions in the light of Quran and Hadith, and great significance was attached to the ideas of Shah Waliullah and Ahmed Farooq Sirhindi. Although he considered the knowledge of the rational sciences

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significant, nevertheless, instead of using scientific evidence to make his claim, he relied on published sources including the letters of Sirhindi with his disciples.49 He travelled frequently to Sufi shrines for extended spiritual retreats and attended particularly the celebration of ‘urs’ of shaykh Ahmed Farooq Sirhindi in the company of his mureeds, thus approving of urs celebration, which generally Deobandis despised.50 The real challenge to reformist Islam was the people’s unfamiliarity with the requirements of their faith. Their connections with reformist Islam were both distant and ideological, but their links to the local conditions in which they were born and brought up were direct, helping to construct their ideas and attitudes.51 The discussions on theological matters and interpretation of texts like Hadith, tafsir (exegesis) and fiqah (jurisprudence) could not appeal much to his following of rural community members, so the ulema class emerged as his main clientele. The ulema became the carrier of the reformist message, established madaris in their respective towns, and not much through the native rural inhabitants.52 The masses, forced to live in the swamps of the delta, were constantly fighting for survival. They needed more than what a vague presentation of the shariat could offer them. The local pluralist beliefs and practices at the advent of Islam in the region formed part of the popular culture in Mianwali. The impact of pre-modern localized Islam influenced by indigenous culture was still prevalent. Deobandi concern in khanqah was to show Sufi doctrine and practice in accordance with juristic norms, which meant distancing themselves from popular devotional practices like ‘grave worshipping’ as it was called. Reformist Islam succeeded in refreshing the knowledge of Islam of those who were well-versed in sharia, but it could not bring a change in the vision of life of the rural illiterate masses. The old beliefs and practices co-existed. Islamization brought the people into close contact with ulema and preachers but they still visited dargah and never rejected piri-mureedi.53

Contesting Prophetology: Puritanical-exclusionary Islam As opposed to the moderate approach of khanqah Sirajia, Hussain Ali Alwani (1867–1944),54 the ideologue of Deobandi khanqah Hussainia epitomized the puritan streak. Hussain Ali followed the traditional pattern of initiation and baiat in the Naqshbandi Mujadidiyya order with Khawaja Usman Damani, sajjada nashin of khanqah Ahmedia Saeedia Musa Zai Sharif.55 The core of the meditational practices of the Deobandis, as of Sufis, was dhikr (the ‘recollection’ of the name of God). Hussain Ali’s emphasis was on the two categories of dhikr, Zikr-e-Ism-e-Zaat (name of God) and Nafi wa Asbaat (remembrance of negation and affirmation) as two foundational dhikr formula, due to their congruence with Tauheed (monotheism), an instrumental elements of his entire theological thinking. He considered the ideas of ‘tawajuh shaykh’ and ‘tasawar-e-shaykh’ (image of shaykh) as very essential elements of Naqshbandiyya Mujadidiyya tariqat (the path). He did not reject Sufism,

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but he did reject popular practices associated with local shrine culture. He called into question not only the devotional practices, urs, Milad-un-Nabi, and the validity of the contemporary institutions whereby the authority of sajjada nashin, Pirs and mulla was threatened. This also challenged the concept of mediation underlying the entire system of religious authority based on shrines. Deobandis’ rivalry with the Barelvi school on the issues of devotional practices, the celebration of the saints’ death anniversaries (urs) and the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday (mawlud) became a litmus tests for Sufi authenticity. Ethics, therefore, is the space where law and Sufism converge, however an ambivalent relationship exists between the two denominations on devotional practices. The Barelwi khanqahs which remained in esoteric traditions of Islam were also resilient and aggressively responsive to fundamentalist challenges mounted to traditional beliefs and practices. Hussain Ali received early instructions from the classical scholars of Hadith and particularly from his mentor Rashid Ahmed Gangohi, who equated Sufism with sharia in response to Salafi and Wahhabi critics who rejected Sufism wholesale. Gangohi subscribed to the notion that knowledge of Sufism was completely in consonance with the knowledge of sharia, Islamic law. Knowledge of the Sufi path (tariqa) and knowledge of normative Islamic practice (sharia) are, for Gangohi, the very same thing; the former is simply an internalization of the latter. He said, ‘Both (tariqa and sharia) are one. Outwardly, it is a matter of performing the sharia. When the rules of the sharia enter the heart, naturally they will remain. This is tariqa. Both are derived from the rules of the Quran and Hadith’.56 Like his mentor, Hussain Ali also subscribed to the notion that knowledge of the Sufi Path and of normative Islamic practice are the same. Nevertheless, he strongly preached his revivalist agenda to restore the pristine glory of Islam by way of cleansing all devotional practices and sets of beliefs. Besides reviving the fundamentals of faith, the most controversial was Hussain Ali’s contestation of Prophetology.57 Like all Deobandis, he embraced a few dimensions of Sufism but maintained a complicated and ambivalent relationship with Prophetology. This evoked polemical debate, constructed by the contrasting views on the nature and scope of the Prophet’s knowledge. At the heart of this polemic was the question of Tauheed, the unity and sovereignty of God and its relationship to Prophetic authority. The Deobandi-Barelwi polemic articulated the competing understanding of the relationship between God and His Prophet, generating contrasting visions of Prophetology and of rituals and devotional practices of people. The two competing rationalities of tradition and reform advanced by Barelwi and Deobandi were based on the polemics of Ahmed Reza Khan and Muhammad Ismail. Deobandis believed in absolute divine sovereignty and emphasized the Prophet as the perfect model for human life and his subservience to the divine. They assaulted ritual practices that in their view undermined divine sovereignty and elevated the Prophet. The authority of the Prophet dominated

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the thoughts and practices of all religious leaders whether they accepted reformist movements or resisted them.58 For reformist ulema, particularly Farangi Mahallis, modernist thinkers from Syed Ahmed Khan through to Iqbal, the Prophet was central to their piety and beliefs.59 The Prophet was even more central to the piety of Ahmed Reza Khan, and so for Barelwi ulema associated with him. They counter-argued that divine sovereignty was inseparable from the authority of the Prophet and vigorously defended everyday practices that served to venerate the Prophet’s memory. Gangohi had been considerably influenced by the works of thirteenth-century scholar Ibn Taimiya.60 Hussain Ali interpreted religious issues from a strict reformist lens that was steeped in the ideas of Ibn Taimiya and Muhammad Ismail (d. 1831).61 His trenchant critique of Prophetology seemed to be influenced by the fundamentalist ideas of Shah Ismail (1781–1831), Ibn Taimiya (1263–1328) and Abd al-Wahhab (1703–1792) who rejected traditional Sufi rituals and instead preferred a literal interpretation of sharia. Ismail’s reformist ideas were widely carried forward in the latter half of the century by the pioneers of Deoband. Hussain Ali, like Rashid Ahmed Gangohi, found in Ismail an excellent spokesperson for his reform agenda. Ismail’s focus was on Tauheed, the unity and sovereignty of God, and on the limits of innovation in everyday practices which was strongly reflected in Deobandi ideology. So the figure of Ismail was at the centre of these polemics. To substantiate their viewpoint, the pioneers of Deoband defended Ismail’s views and exalted him as a great reformer. In contrast, Ahmed Reza and his Barelwi followers condemned Ismail’s intellectual contributions as Khan believed he tried to diminish the Prophet’s stature. Barelwis expressed an extreme retaliatory attitude towards Deobandis when they contested Prophetology. Central to the conflict between Deobandis and Barelwis was Ahmed Reza Khan’s religious decree ‘Hassamul Haramain’, for which he received signatures of approval from several ulema of the Haramain by 1900. Ahmad Reza declared that several Deobandi ulema and the founder of the Ahmadiyyah movement were kafirs (infidels). Given the fatwa’s strong denunciation of several eminent Deobandis, it has been a source of friction between the two denominations ever since. His fatawa were published in a risala, entitled fatawa al-Haramain bi-Rajf Nadwat al-Main (fatawa from the Haramain [causing] the Falsehood of the Nadwa to Shudder).62 It was in this context that Ahmed Reza’s moral leadership of the Ahl-e-Sunnat movement was made public and unanimously proclaimed as the mujadid (renewer) of the fourteenth hijri century. This was a challenge to rival Muslim reformist movements.63 Ahmed Reza Khan later published his extended tract ‘Hassamul-Haramain’. All the differences between Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jamaat (Barelwi) and Deobandi Ulema on the issues of the Prophet’s knowledge of the unseen, his intercessionary role (the Shifaat), and the doctrine of being and seeing (Hazir wa Nazir) emanate from the basic difference over the personality of the Prophet Muhammad.64 For Deobandis, the Prophet was the perfect but essentially human model for behaviour, whereas Barelwis believed Muhammad (pbuh) was bestowed with special powers which made him truly unique.

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Any normative argument that might undermine the Prophet’s charisma as God’s beloved or question these powers of the Prophet was truly unacceptable. Barelwis had a long tradition of decrying Deobandis, as they considered them the blasphemers of the Prophet (pbuh). Boundaries between the two competing movements were defined and redefined by means of arguments discussed in print, circulated and countered in polemical wars. Hussain Ali, while stressing the centrality of Tauheed forged his religious identity as a ‘Muwahid’, which vividly signified his identification with Muhammad Ibn’Abd al-Wahab (1703–92) in eighteenth-century Najd, as the followers of Abd al-Wahab were known as Muwahidun.65 Hussain Ali’s association with Abd al-Wahab and Shah Ismail led to his absolute literalism, bypassing the Deobandi tradition of uniformity of shariat and tariqat. The situation became more tense when Hussain Ali in his widely published and controversial book ‘Bulghat-ul-Hairaan’ and ‘Risala Ilm-e-Ghaib’ issued fatwa of kufr against Ahmed Reza Khan Barelwi and the ulema of Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jamat. The fatwa did not endorse his reformist position, it rather kindled polemical controversy. Risala Ilm-e-Ghaib, published in 1926, was termed by the Barelwi ulema as ‘Risala-e-Kufria’.66 He produced huge number of books and treatises. The prime target for debate was Ahmed Reza Khan Barelwi’s extended tract ‘Hassam-ul-Haramain’. The controversy was increasingly aggravated by religious edicts, the ‘fatawa of kufr’, issued in the tradition of the Hanafia school. In Risala Ilm-e-Ghaib, Hussain Ali refuted the idea of the Prophet’s knowledge of the unseen by laying emphasis on the concept of Tauheed, which was central to his theology. Association with God in unseen knowledge, which was super human knowledge, became a basis of debate – whether the Prophet has knowledge of the unseen. Ismail strongly denied it and called it shirk in his two famous works Sirat-ul-Mustaqim (the straight path) and Taqwiat-ul-Iman (strengthening of the faith) which had a strong impact on South Asian Islam.67 Shirk negated Tauheed, the oneness of God’s divinity. Deobandis considered bida (shirk), commonly thought of as polytheism, as a major threat to the normative order.68 Gangohi endorsed Ismail’s vision of divine sovereignty and Hussain Ali followed him. This polemic also centred on the normative limits of Prophetic intercession, Shifaat-e-Qahri69 (intercession without Allah’s permission) and Sama Mauta (the belief that the dead can listen) as the basis of all false practices at the shrines.70 Barelwis believed in Shifaat, that Allah can only be approached through the intermediary of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). Ahmed Reza Khan denied that the Prophet would intercede for his community only on the day of resurrection; he asserted that it was a constant process in the life of his Ummah.71 The belief in Hazir-o-Nazir, that the Prophet is present and seeing, that he lives on in corporeal as well as spiritual form in his grave at Medina, that he listens and therefore Ahl-e-Sunnat stand in front of his grave as a mark of respect and recite salat-o-salam, that he continues to ‘exist’ and to be:72 Ismail called all these powers privileges, exclusive for divine and not for non-divine entities. Moreover he called all the practices that undermined God’s

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omniscience transgressions. In interpreting the issue of Shifaat-e-Qahri and saintly intercession between man and God, Hussain Ali drew his influence from Ibn-e-Taimiya’s risala ‘Almusama Bil Qaida tul-Jalila fil tawasal wa al-wasila’. He also condemned the practice of taking 11 steps in the direction of Baghdad, calling ‘Ya Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jillani Shain llillah’ considering him as ‘shaafi’.73 Hussain Ali challenged the veracity of those Hadith which supported these beliefs. Although Hussain Ali deemed Hadith as the basis of correct practice and a salient feature of Deobandi ideology. As Qasim Zaman noted, Hadith commentaries might be used as a powerful way of bringing an author’s voice from the past into the present.74 In the course of debate on any religious issue, to substantiate his argument Hussain Ali drew on the fatwa of Rashid Ahmed Gangohi, Mehmud-ul Hassan and Ashraf Ali Thanvi, considering them as most credible to solve a contested question.75 Different Deobandi scholars responded to theological issues in disparate ways, depending on their normative temperament and pedagogical lineage associated with a particular mentor. Deobandis such as Rashid Ahmed Gangohi and Ashraf Ali Thanvi were close to Islamic legal norms and highly critical of customary practices. They were strict about safeguarding the normative boundaries of religion. While Hussain Ahmed Madani, another influential Deobandi ideologue said, ‘I am a servant of Sufi guides. I seek to help Muslims tread the path of the pious forbears’.76 Anwar Shah Kashmiri, another Deobandi scholar, gave an address in Mianwali in 1927 and endorsed Ahle-Sunnat’s idea of knowledge of the unseen. Hussain Ali tried to convince Anwar Shah to give a fatwa of kufr against those who believed in it. Kashmiri refused to do so.77 Barelwis employed the methods and idioms of Ahmed Reza Khan who authoritatively excluded Deobandi scholars, taking advantage of the ideological battle going on in Hijaz between Hanafi scholars and their non-conformist antagonists, since the late eighteenth century. They branded Deobandis as ‘Wahhabis’.78 Two Barelwi ideologues who strongly chastised Hussain Ali’s ideas were Ahmed Din Gangvi79 (1843–1968), a disciple of Sial Sharif and Ghulam Mehmud80 (1865–1948), a disciple of Pir Mehr Ali Shah of Golra Sharif, both initiated in the Chishtiyya Sufi order in Mianwali District. Hussain Ali’s manazra with Pir Mehr Ali Shah Golra on the issue of Ilm-e-ghaib was the major reason for which Ghulam Mehmud wrote a pamphlet (risala), titled ‘Najm-ur-Rehman’, in which he called Hussain Ali a Wahabi and refused to acknowledge his Deobandi identity. According to him Deobandis being Hanafi and Ahle-Sunnat Wal Jamaat cannot outrightly reject Prophetology. Hussain Ali’s most controversial writing and tafseer of the Quran ‘Bulghat-ul-Hairan’ came under assault when, according to Barelwi ideologues, Maulana Abdul Aziz Jullundhari, vice mufti of Deoband, issued a joint fatwa, corroborated by Anjuman Taeed-e-Haq in Lahore in 1940, which said that ‘Hussain Ali was “gumrah” (on the wrong path), misleading people on sensitive theological issues, and his writing “Bulghat-ul-Hairan” struck at the fundaments of Ahl-e-Sunnat Wal Jamaat, as Takfeer-ul-Muslimeen (giving fatwa against a wider Muslim community) was not in accordance with Hanafia tradition’.81

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Ahmed Din Gangvi also wrote a critique of Risala Ilm-e-Ghaib and condemned the followers of Hussain Ali as ‘Hussainia Party’, who did not adhere to any law school but with ‘Wahhabiyat’. Gangvi challenged Hussain Ali’s ideas, strictly along Ahmed Reza Khan’s theological lines: he asserted that Hussain Ali towed Muhammad Ismail’s line, whom Ahl-e-Sunnat literature and Ahmed Reza Khan referred to as ‘Wahhabiya Shaitaniya’.82 He even called what Hussain Ali professed tantamount to ‘fitna khawarij’.83 Barelwis defended all those theological ideas which Deobandis considered incompatible with a rational form of reformist Islam. Polemical disputation between Deobandi and Barelwi (Ahl-e-Sunnat Wal Jamaat) ulema on the issue of Prophetology was inevitable. Accusation and counter-accusation ensued; both sides resorted to diatribe, accusing each other of heretical deviation. Unlike Deobandi khanqah Sirajia and the host of Deobandi ulema who followed Shah Waliullah’s tradition of integrating Sufism with sharia, Hussain Ali’s takfiri fatawa were traded in utter profusion with the exclusionary approach.84 The disagreement with Deobandis reflects the hermeneutical differences on Prophetology and forbidding permissible practices, especially those that honoured the Prophet. This hermeneutical and conceptual difference cannot be collapsed into an opposition between Islamic law and Sufism. The Deobandi-Barelwi polemic as a contest between reform and anti-reform is conceptually and empirically untenable. Reformist ideas could be effectively established in the region only if they were closely tied with the Sufi ethos. The competing understandings of tradition and reform were structured in a process which involved certain strategic practices to exclude the other group from the pale of Islam. Such practices include Gangvi’s demonstration of the logical incoherence of Hussain Ali’s arguments and his denying of the veracity of those Hadith literature which substantiated the rival argument. He was alleged by Barelwi ideologues of misinterpreting and distorting the meanings of Quranic verses and fiqah works, including fatawa Alamgiria, Bazazia, fatawa Qazi Khan and Khulasat-ul-fatawa,85 and calling the Quran ‘Majzoob’ owing to its incoherent and disorganized language. Hence he was not qualified to lead prayers.86 Hussain Ali’s contestation of the most revered Prophetology made his religious ideology controversial in a Sufi-oriented landscape. He could not gain control over the base of religious authority and the power of mosques, madrasas and ulema.87 He could not muster enough public support to build a madrasa to disseminate his religious teachings in the district; subsequently his disciples set up madrasas as networks of centres outside the district for the propagation of his religious ideas. Madrasa Taleem-ul-Quran, established by his khalifa Maulana Ghulamullah Khan in Rawalpindi in 1938, is one such instance.88 Most of the madrasas were set up in the Punjab and the NWFP. Hussain Ali tried to attain wider public role through the use of print outside the district in structuring individual Muslim opinion and disseminating his views.89 However, his ideas could only stimulate actions and behaviours, which most of the time were aggressive and conflicting. His puritanical religious

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principles could not replace the magnetic power of saintly bodies, but contrasted sharply with social values and realities embedded in Sufis and cults. The wide dissemination of takfiri fatawa by Deobandi and Barelwi ulema in Mianwali reflected conflict over leadership, expressed in religious terms. Exclusion was used by both Deobandi and Barelwi as a powerful strategy to render the other group near powerless. It is pertinent to know, in a Barelwidominated rural society, that he asserted his puritanical stream to establish a distinctive Deobandi identity, as his followers judged the Deobandi denomination to be one that was truly engaged with religious law.90 Takfir and exclusion in Muslim public life Barelwi ideologues were most vociferous defenders of Prophetology and Sufism including all manifestations of Muslim practices. Religious controversies between Deobandi and Barelwi ulema were played out through theological disputations, the so-called munazaras – a new formulation of religious identity.91 Hussain Ali’s munazara with Mehr Ali Shah of Golra Sharif (1859–1937) was conducted on the issue of Prophetology. Each side claimed it had won, because each one simply judged its opponent(s) by its own standards.92 As Barbara maintains, these debates did not provide a platform where serious intellectual exchange could occur, but the attempt was to access a wider audience.93 The debates ended without evoking much response or attention from the general populace. This amply indicates the indifference of the common man towards theological issues. The fundamental aim of the munazara was to render one’s opponent speechless, which largely served to satisfy the ego of the victor. More so, munazara helped these people to establish their leadership within their respective communities. In a tribal society like Mianwali, largely illiterate and devoid of any modern form of communication, munazaras served as a public forum for the exchange of social and religious issues. The more a leader was aggressive and combative, the more the followers felt elevated and strongly identified with his chosen group. The fundamentalist rejection of local practices created tension in the social spaces of Mianwali. With the passage of time these debates turned into protest meetings marked by public agitation, and structured exchange was replaced by speeches.94 In the subsequent years, Hussain Ali used political platforms to pronounce his exclusionary fatawa against his rivals. The congruence of religion and politics led each religious group to develop its own political organization that spoke for them and competed with other political bodies. These religious groups indulged in the process of politicization of religion because of which religious identity was exacerbated.95 Hussain Ali’s connections with the leading ulema of the time allowed him to reach a wider audience through the platforms of Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Hind and Ahrar for popular preaching and condemning shrine-/cult-based Islam.96 Unlike his Deobandi counterparts, Hussain Ali never spoke for Khatam-e-Nabuwwat; his only adversaries were the Barelwis.

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While speaking at the annual seminar of Anjuman-e-Khudam-e-Lahore, organized by Ahmed Ali Lahori, he rebuked the Barelwis for their devotional practices and drew a comparison with Asna Ashari Shias, Hindus and Christians. Conclusively he denounced Barelwis as the worst and the most heretical of all three, as Shias considered their twelve imams as their helpers, likewise Hindus and Christians did not create innovations in their existing religions, whereas Barelwis circumvented the original teachings of Ahl-e-Sunnat based on Hanafi law and indulged in grave worship, with shrines subsequently emerging as the centre of their devotion.97 His public excommunication of the Barelwis from Islam was an attempt to create otherness towards them and to distinguish the Deobandis as a distinct community defined by collective ritualistic practices and a common sharing of belief. The denunciation of saint and shrine cultism and stigmatizing its adherents as kafir (polytheistic) infuriated the Barelwi ulema and some Deobandi ulema as well, such as Anwar Shah Kashmiri. Kashmiri declared in categorical terms that ‘except the Ahmadiyya sect, I do not consider any other religious group as “kafir” or outside the pale of Islam’. Hussain Ali remarked ‘I don’t recognize the religious authority of any one at Deoband except Qasim Nanautwi, Rashid Ahmed Gangohi and Mehmud-ul-Hassan’ which indicates that he even questioned the competence of many ulema associated with Deoband.98 The takfiri approach exacerbated the hostility and generated a sectarian wedge between the two denominations. To counter Hussain Ali’s polemical attacks, Barelwi ulema established an organization called, ‘shauba-e-tabligh’. The members of the organization explained that the purpose was to contest ‘Wahhabiyat’ by conducting debates and munazaras.99 The attack of reformist Islam as counter-structure was not trenchant enough to replace the tradition, however it could establish itself by negotiating with traditional shrine-oriented Islam and local culture. In religion, social vision which was embedded in the local tradition persisted on. Hussain Ali despised old cultural religious traditions and longed for their hasty displacement by an alternative religious tradition in which people would be seen, in Juergensmeyer’s words, ‘in a more noble light’.100

Local hierarchies, as obstruction to reformist ideologies In the second decade of the twentieth century, the consciousness of religious identity rested on the sense of belonging to a distinct group of people. That sense of belonging, developed into nationalism, was articulated as a separate identity. Since nationalism drew upon religion in India, religious and nationalist identity grew concurrently, articulated into a singular Islamic identity. In the aftermath of World War I and after the atomization of the Khilafat Movement and the weakening of the Indian National Congress and the Indian Muslim League in the 1920s, a number of new regional and religiopolitical parties emerged in India. These included the Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam, the Khaksar Movement, the Unionist party, the Red Shirts, and the Krishak

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Proja Party and Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Hind (JUH) – just a few among many across British India. The Ahrar leaders came from all sectarian denominations, but a more avid association was with the Deoband school of thought, whose nationalist exposition drew them closer to Congress. However, in their political activism, which was a blend of religion and politics, the Ahrar were professedly anti-colonial and anti-feudal.101 Reformist Islam was disseminated in those parts of the district where religio-nationalist movements anchored themselves; Kalabagh is one prominent example. A creeping sense of nationalism in Mianwali had been expressed through the Majlis-i-Ahrar and Khaksar movement. Ahrar struck at the power and exploitation of the poor strata of society by landed aristocracy, patronized by the colonial government, and launched a vigorous campaign against recruitment into the colonial army. The recruitment of the local population into the army was widely assisted by the landed elite as recruiting agents.102 The local landed elite as colonial intermediaries provided a structure of resistance to every religio-political and nationalist movement, using all possible resources and coercive measures to sap their energy and alienate the masses from such movements.103 Most of the landed elite were members of the British-patronized Unionist party. Like the rest of the rural Punjab, the politics in Mianwali had a strong pro-British orientation. The foundations of the local politics rested on the structure of the British rural administration. Majlis-i-Ahrar’s reconciling of the Islamic reformist message with radical anti-British and anti-capitalist rhetoric was the major reason it could not establish itself in the district, as it directly called into question the colonial state’s authority.104 The Khaksar movement was also distinctively religious and puritanical; the rationale of the movement was based on a reinterpretation of Islam, in Allama Mashriqi’s famous writing ‘Tazkira’.105 The objective of Khaksars was to challenge the monetary control of feudal rulers through reforms to make society progressive and flourish economically.106 Khaksar’s attack against the ‘Mullah’, the religious orthodoxy, Pirs and shrine cultism invited much opposition from ulema as well as sajjada nishins. The ideal of a new ‘Muslimized’ world did not appeal to the Deobandis either. Allama Mashriqi’s radical interpretation of Quranic injunctions was unacceptable for the religiously conservative ulema in the district, who accused him of creating a new religion. Ahrars and Khaksars both mustered their support mainly from ulema, lower ranking maulvi, imam or khateeb of mosques (religious teachers at madrasa), traders, and shopkeepers. Commercial communities responded more favourably to religio-political movements. For them piety and patronage of religion were significant markers of their identity and the social prominence they acquired in the town.107 Government employees did not support such movements because doing so might put their job at risk. There was a general fear of British officials, a perception prevailed that the ‘Big Brother – the Angrez ruler – though mostly invisible, was watching you’.108 Dr Nur Muhammad Khan, Hakim Abdur Rehman Khan, Sher M. Zargar, Maulana Jalil Ahmed, and Maulana Ramzan were the first ones to join Majlis-e-Ahrar and Khaksar. A large

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majority of Niazi pathans of Musa Khel, identified with a tribe of Bai Niazi, joined the ranks of Ahrar too. Maulana Abu Saad Ahmed, the founder of Deobandi Khanqah Sirajia also lent support to the Ahrars.109 The centralized and pervasive nature of British control did not allow these movements to be lasting phenomena. This impeded the rise of religious and national consciousness among the masses, which were restricted to a limited section of society; however the movements must be given credit for shaking people out of their religious and political indifference. As Chris Bayly notes, in a decentralized tribal society, powerful ideologies like nationalism work against hierarchies.110 The case in Mianwali was quite the opposite, where tribes lived under the centralized control of the colonial government. The leaders of the tribes were colonial intermediaries whose interests were linked with the imperial system.111 The hierarchies of colonial government and elites were influential and controlling. The society was divided into two major cultural groups, the landed aristocracy and the masses. The ulema and religious preachers existed on the social peripheries. This social dichotomy also created an unavoidable gap in the process of transmission of religious knowledge from the upper to lower levels. The elite continued to enjoy superior social status and the gap between the aristocrats and the commoners continued to remain as wide as before. The local elite were associated with the shrines through a Pirmureed network. Their political interests were also linked with their relationship to the Sufis and sajjada nashins in the district who marshalled their mureeds as well as gave fatawa in their favour at the time of elections.112 In return they supported the khanqah at a personal level as a member of the mureed constituency of Sufi, as opposed to ulema who worked without any patronage.113 As Deobandi authority draws its legitimacy by keeping itself away from the colonial power structures, it did not accept any grant from the colonial government.114 The structure of political power helped in the strengthening of shrine-oriented Islam, whereas the spread of the reformist message was an individual effort and could not cement the bonds between two layers of society. Mianwali was not a culturally unified community. Theologically it was not a consistent entity. Tribalism still prevailed; even the British did not try to dilute it as long as the tribe served their hierarchical political purposes.115 Tribal rural religion renounced any single characterization of religion, particularly in a feudal society, which is culturally divided between various estates, each with its separate system of beliefs and symbolization.116

Conclusion Religion in a tribal social setting is bound to be hierarchical, based on a system of mediation. The central and consistent feature of their religious life remained reverence for saints and the spiritual world, as it was a more pragmatic version of Islam which looked after their needs.117 Gilmartin remarked that ‘where tribal identities were strong, religious identities were of little account’.118 Tribes in Mianwali were defined by their ethnic identity and not

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religious faith and practice. Therefore tribal identity remained a domineering force and could not be replaced by religious identity. This contests the dominant argument that reformist Islam homogenized society by providing a uniform template of Islam followed by Quran and Hadith. Bryan Turner argued that scripturalism acted as a social prism by which the traditional religious values of Islamic society could be refracted into modern secular society, but the process of refraction changed the content and function of traditional Islam.119 In Mianwali, the process of refraction could not change the contents and function of traditional Islam, however the traditional and modern (reformist Islam) grew concurrently. Reformist Islam could anchor itself only if it was closely tailored to the local, with shrine-oriented Islam embedded in the traditions of Sufi-disciple. Reformist Islam sometimes negotiated with shrine-oriented Islam and adopted some of its aspects, and at times it contested it, as a result of interaction between the two. Hence both accommodation and contestation existed simultaneously. Deobandis and Barelwis in the town insisted on the mutual imbrication of sharia and Sufism. On one issue, Deobandi khanqah Hussainia fell apart from khanqah Sirajia, and the tradition of exclusion and accommodation which existed together tended to clash and generate conflict. This was the contestation of the most revered Prophetology for Barelwis. Deobandi-Barelwi polemics indicate opposite conceptions of the normative relationship between divine sovereignty and Prophetic authority. The differences between the two denominations are hermeneutical and conceptual; therefore, the two cannot be categorized as binary opposites to each other. However these conceptual differences gave rise to conflict between the two denominations and sharpened the distinct religious identities which generated sectarian divisions. As a result of the interface between reformist and traditional Islam, a new mixed and pluralist religious identity formulated which was a congruence of the two. Pressure for reformist Islam mounted progressively in the twentieth century. However it did not succeed in changing the basic pattern of religious culture in Mianwali during the colonial period. Reformism had a great effect on the ‘ideologization of Islam’, in the words of Rafi-ud-Din, but their repeated efforts to bring ordinary Muslims within the fold of what was thought to be a pure Islamic way of life were not very successful.120 Reformists inspired enough people to look upon themselves as Muslims. The number of mosques and madrasas increased and so did the devotees, but reformism did not inevitably result in the spread of an integrated system of rituals and beliefs at the cost of the traditional ones. Thus the conflict existed indefinitely, rather than one denomination displacing the other altogether. This is how the dialectical relationship between the two denominations continued to bring about change in religion as a social reality. Various versions of Islam existed simultaneously, which ensured plurality. The evident plurality of religious traditions in Mianwali contradicts the notion of a diminishing of diverse forms of local Islam under the hegemony of ‘disenchanted’ scriptural Islam.

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Towards the second decade of the twentieth century, reformist ideas gained new life and strength, in the context of the emerging nationalist ideology enshrined in a singular Islamic identity. Religion acquired centrality since it functioned as a companion to nationalism, which had its strong expression in the communal and anti-colonial nationalist movement in Kalabagh.

Notes 1 Francis Robinson, ‘Islamic Reform and Modernities in South Asia’, Modern Asian Studies 42, No. 2/3 (2008), 2; Filippo Osella and Caroline Osella, ‘Introduction: Islamic Reformism in South Asia’, Modern Asian Studies 42, No. 2/3 (2008), 247; also see Barbara D. Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India: Deoband, 1860–1900 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1982). 2 Sher Ali Tareen, Defending Muhammad in Modernity (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2020); also see Brannon D. Ingram, Revival from Below: The Deoband Movement and Global Islam (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2018); also see, Moin Ahmad Nizami, Reform and Renewal in South-Asian Islam: The Chishti-Sabris in 18th-19th Century North India (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 3 In the course of Ahl-e sunnat meeting, held at Patna in 1900, Ahmed Riza Khan was proclaimed as ‘mujadid’ of the fourteenth-century hijri and successor of Shah Abdul Qadir. This was widely disapproved of by Deobandis who looked to Rashid Ahmed Gangohi as ‘mujadid’ and contested Ahmed Reza Khan’s status as mujadid. In 1906, while on his second hajj, Ahmad Reza Khan passed judgment of kufr in Husam-al-Haramain against a number of renowned ulema of India, including Rashid Ahmed, Qasim Nanautwi, Ashraf Ali Thanwi, Ghulam Ahmed etc., concerning various ideas about the image of the Prophet (pbuh), and declared various religious groups as bad-mazhab (whose beliefs were wrong) or gumrah (on the wrong path) or murtad (on the wrong path). The seals and signatures from ulema of Haramain established the authority of this document. Deobandis in order to defend their position strongly contested Ahmed Reza Khan’s fatawa. See Usha Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996), 227, 232, 336–7. I am using the terms Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jama’at and Barelwi interchangeably in this study. 4 Francis Robinson, Islam, South Asia and the West, 67. Wilfred Cantwell Smith, ‘The Ulema in Indian Politics’, in Politics and Society in India, C. H. Philips, ed. (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1963), 42–3. 5 Kenneth W. Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India (New Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 12. Also see Robert Rozehnal, Islamic Sufism Unbound: Politics and Piety in Twenty-First Century Pakistan (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007). 6 Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 203. 7 Ali Altaf Mian, Invoking Islamic Rights in British India Invoking Islamic Rights In British India: Mawlana Ashraf Ali Thanawi’s Huquq al-Islam (Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2021) 8 See Ingram, Revival from Below. 9 The belief that the Prophet had knowledge of the unseen; the belief in Nur-eMuhammadi, that the Prophet was created with divine light and had no shadow, the belief in Shifaat, that Allah can only be approached through the intermediary of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). Ahmed Reza Khan denied that the Prophet would intercede for his community only on the day of resurrection; he asserted that it was a constant process in the life of his Ummah, the belief in hazir o nazir, that the Prophet

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16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Reformist Islam and Sufism: A dialectical identity is present and seeing, he lives on in corporeal as well as spiritual form in his grave at Medina, he listens, and therefore Ahl-e-Sunnat stand in front of his grave as a mark of respect and recite Salat o Salam; he continues to ‘exist’ and to be. See Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 152. Ibid., 9. Punjab Census Report of 1911. Hindus belonging to the Arora caste represented nearly 82% of the total number of Hindus. Hindus were divided into three main tribes: Uttaradi, Dakhna, and Dahra. These again were sub-divided into Kalra, Chandanas, Kathurias. Some of them owned agricultural land. Gazetteer Mianwali District 1915, 140. Also see S. S. Thorburn, Bannu or our Afghan Frontier (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel, 1978). Also see Harish Chandar Nakra, Wichra Watan, 5. Ibid., 78. Hybridity refers to the process of the emergence of a culture, in which its elements are continually transformed or translated through irrepressible encounters. Bhabha takes a kind of deconstructionist approach to post-colonialism. He challenges the binary opposition of West/Non-West. Bhabha contends that all cultural statements and systems are constructed in a space that he calls the ‘Third Space of enunciation’ (1994, 37). Cultural identity always emerges in this contradictory and ambivalent space. See Homi K. Bhabha, Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994). Gazetteer Mianwali District 1915, 89. C. A. Bayly, The Birth of Modern World: 1780–1914 (London: Blackwell, 2004), 172. Jan Lundius and Mats Lundahl, Peasants and Religion: A Socioeconomic Study of Dios Olivorio and the Palma Sola Religion in the Dominican Republic (London: Routledge, 2000), 17. Ibid., 20. Belief in the power of evil spirits, witch craft, and amulets – in local terms called ‘phul ganda’ – was common among superstitious Muslims and Hindus. See Gazateer District Mianwali 1915, 38. Aubrey O’Brien, ‘The Muhammadan Saints of the Western Punjab’, The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland 41 (1911), 510. Rafiud-din Ahmed, Conflicts and Contradictions in Bengali Islam: Problems of Change and Adjustment in Shariat and Ambiguity in South Asian Islam (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1988), 128. Bhor Sharif is a town in the west of IsaKhel, a tehsil of Mianwali District. In reaction to Deobandis and Ahl-e-Hadih religious groups emerged Barelwis, who like Deobandis were strict Hanafis, however their difference from the Deobandis was largely that the former accepted the customary practices of mediation, linked with the pirs of the shrines, while the latter condemned them as an accretion to Islam. Ahmed Reza Khan, one of the instrumental figures in late nineteenth century Sunni Islam in India, provided an intellectual basis for the Barelwi tradition, named after the north Indian town of Bareilly which was the residence of the movement’s founder. In the 1870s and 1880s, the Ahl-e-Sunnat movement emerged under Ahmad Riza’s leadership, in opposition to all reformist movements, in particular the Deobandi movement. The term Ahl-e-Sunnat referred to the conformity of Barelwis with the Sunna. The followers of the movement called themselves Ahl-eSunnat wa Jamat. The movement centred their vision of Islam on the Prophet; they viewed themselves as ‘reformist’ and traced their intellectual heritage to the Shahwali Ullahi tradition. See Barbara Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 25; also see Patrick Eisenlohr, ‘Na’at: Media Contexts and Transnational Dimensions of a Devotional Practice’, in Islam in South Asia in Practice, Barbara D. Metcalf, ed. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009), 102.

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25 Qasim Nanautwi, Rashid Ahmed Gangohi and Yaqub Nanautwi, disciples of Haji Imdadullah (1815–99), a Sufi Pir in the Chishtia Sufi order, were three instrumental persons in setting up a seminary at Deoband near Delhi in 1860. The Darul Ulum came into being when a small primary school (maktab) located in the town of Deoband in north India in the Ganges Plains was raised to the status of a madrassa in 1866. The Deoband seminary aimed at revitalizing the traditional Islamic sciences (manqulat). They stressed the orthodox teachings of Islamic Law to be taught through a theologically oriented curriculum. Those who studied there subsequently came to be known as Deobandis. In time they evolved as one of the most significant Muslim groups, centred largely in North India. An affiliated madrassa of Deoband was setup in Saharanpur and named Mazahir-ul-Ulum. The founders of Deoband and Mazahir-ul-Ulum were students of Maulvi Mamluk Ali of Delhi College. See Robinson, Islam and Muslim History in South Asia (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2000). Also see Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India. 26 Dietric Reetz, Islam in the Public Sphere: Religious Groups in India, 1900–1947 (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2006), 27. 27 The family’s patriarch Mian Jung Baaz migrated from Dera Ismail Khan to Bhor Sharif, Tehsil Isa Khel. In suluk and marif ’a, a close association with Syed Ghaus-ul-Saqlain was a hallmark of the family. Fateh M. Bhorwi’s early education was traditional in a local madrassa under the tutelage of Qazi Noor Kamal Hashmi. He received formal instructions and training in Persian, interpretation of the Quran (tafsir), Hadith, theology (kalam) or the intricacies of legal interpretation (fiqah, usul-ul-fiqah). He received his spiritual training and formal initiation in the Naqshbandia order at the hands of his Sufi mentor Maulana Jaan Muhammad of Mebal Sharif. His khanqah was largely managed by the income gained from his ancestral agricultural lands and the donations of his mureeds who were mostly landowners and resisted the interference of colonial officials or their financial aid to his khanqah. Once he refused financial assistance for langar from a Deputy Commissioner and said ‘the Sufi’s langar functions with Allah’s aid’. 28 Usha Sanyal, Ahmad Riza Khan Barelwi: In the Path of the Prophet (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2005); and S. Jamal Malik, ‘The Luminous Nurani: Charisma and Political Mobilization Among the Barelwis in Pakistan’, The International Journal of Social and Cultural Practice, No. 28 (1990), 38–50. 29 During the initiation ceremony he gave bay’at in the tradition of Caliph Abu Bakr, Ghaus us-Saqlain, Imam Naqshband Bukhari and Ahmed Farooq Sirhindi and mostly in the Naqshbandia and Qadria orders and sometimes also in the Suhurwardia and Chishtia orders. See Abu Tahir Ramzan, Khutbat-e-Bhorwi, 272. 30 Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India. 31 Ibid. 32 Kareema, Nam-e-haq, Masdar, Fayyuz, Pundnama, Tuhfa Ahrar, Mala Badamna, Gulistan, Bostan Zulaikha and Sikandarnama. 33 Every ghaus has two ministers. The ghaus is known as abd Ullah. The minister on the right is called Abdu r-Rab, and the one on the left is called Abdu l-Malik. In this [spiritual] world, the minister on the left is the one on the right, unlike the worldly sultanat. The reason is that this is the sultanat of the heart and the heart is on the left side. Every ghaus [has a special relationship with] the Prophet. See Malfuzat, ‘Ahmed Reza Khan’, Vol. 1, 102, cited in Sanyal, Devotional Islam, 146. Also see John A. Subhan, Sufism, Its Saints and Shrines (New York: Samuel Weiser Inc., 1970), 104. 34 Constance E. Padwick, Muslim Devotions: A Study of Prayer-Manuals in Common Use (London: SPCK, 1961), 40. 35 Sanyal, Devotional Islam, 257.

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36 Ramzan, Khutbat-e-Bhorwi (IsaKhel: Maktaba Fathia), 231. 37 Ibid. 38 The presence of the Prophet (pbuh) could be either spiritual or physical and was unlimited in terms of space or time. The Prophet (pbuh) could go anywhere any time. His spiritual presence could be very strong on popular occasions such as celebration of his birth anniversary (majlis-e-Milad). It was a mark of respect to stand up at the end of the ceremony when the salat-o-salam (prayer calling down Allah’s blessings on him) was read. See Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 258. 39 The origin of this order is generally ascribed to Khawaja Bahau’d-Din Naqshbandi, who died in Persia in 1389 AD. The word Naqshband means an embroideree or printer on cloth, and as applied to Baha’u’d-Din probably refers to his ancestral profession. The first saint of the order to enter India was Khawaja Baqi Billah Berang, seventh in the line of succession from Khawaja Baha’u’d-din Naqshband, the founder. Baqi Billah settled in Delhi and died after three years. It was his disciple and vicegerent, Ahmed Farooq Sirhindi, who really established the order in sub-continent. See John A. Subhan, Sufism: Its Saints and Shrines (Srinagar: Gulshan Books, 2015), 151, 229. 40 Ibid., 287. 41 Khanqah Sirajia Mujadidiya was a branch of khanqah Ahmedia Saeedia Musa Zai sharif, founded by Khawaja Dost Muhammad Qandhari at Dera Ismail Khan. He was initiated into three Sufi silsilas, i.e. Chishtiyya, Qadriyya and Naqshbandiyya. His two immediate successors and also the key disciples were Khawaja Muhammad Usman Daamani and his son, Khawaja Sirajuddin. They also became the sajjada nashin of khanqah Musa Zai after the demise of khawaja Dost Muhammad. One of a distinguished khalifa Azam of Khawaja Usman also accorded with a status of Zimniat was Abul Saad Ahmed Khan (1878–1941), who instructed him to establish a khanqah which he named after his mentor as khanqah Sirajia. Abu Saad Ahmed disposed of some parts of his agricultural land and built a khanqah in 1922, at Kundian which was at that time a central location in the district and was a railway junction. He built a residence for his family, guest rooms for murids and other travellers, a mosque and a well for the supply of water. See Maulana Mehboob Illahi, Tuhfa-e-Sadia, 78. 42 Ibid., Abul Saad Ahmed Khan was the son of Malik Masti Khan, an affluent landowner of Rajput family who settled in a small town Bakhra in the district. He received his early religious education in the town from a local imam of a mosque. He received instruction in Arabic language from Bandial (Mianwali District), and proceeded to madrasa Shahi Muradabad and then Kanpur and received instruction in the entire curriculum of adab, fiqah, logic, kalam, Hadith and tafsir ( (exegesis). Later he received instruction in tasawuf (the science of Sufism) Hadith and fiqa (jurisprudence) from Maulana Obaidullah and Maulana Ahmed Hussain Kanpuri. 43 Arshi Saleem Hashmi, ‘Historical roots of the Deobandi version of Jihadism and its implications for Violence in the Deobandi Movement’, in Faith Based Violence and Deobandi Militancy in Pakistan, Jawad Syed, Edwina Pio, Tahir Kamran and Abbas Zaidi, eds. (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 136. 44 Monthly Lolak, Maulana Khan Muhammad (Multan: Almi Majlis-i-Tahafuz-ekhatm-e-Nabuwat, 2011), 106. 45 Rozehnal, Islamic Sufism Unbound, 154. 46 Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 140. 47 Ibid., 118. 48 Muhammad Nazir Ranjha, Maulana Khawaja Khan Muhammad (Rawalpindi: Al-Fateh Publication, 2011), 385.

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49 Monthly Lolak, Maulana Khan Muhammad, 112. Deoband de-emphasised the rational sciences, logic and philosophy. Rashid Ahmed Gangohi argued that philosophy was opposed to the Sharia. For details see Metcalf, ‘The Madrasa at Deoband: A Model for Religious Education in Modern India’, Modern Asian Studies 12, No. 1 (1978), 118. 50 Ibid. Deobandis did not relinquish their connection with Sufi orders yet they opposed certain aspects of Sufism which included: pilgrimage to saint’s tombs, the annual death rites of a saint (Urs), and celebration of the Prophet’s birth (maulud). See Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India. 51 Rafiuddin Ahmed, ‘Conflict and Contradiction in Bengali Islam: Problems of Change and Adjustment’, in Shariat and Ambiguity in South Asian Islam, Katherine P. Ewing, ed. (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1988), 127. 52 Report on the progress of Education in the Punjab (1937–38), Superintendent, Government Printing Punjab, 1939. 53 David Emmanuel Singh, Islamization in Modern South Asia (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2012), 185. 54 Hussain Ali, the founder of Khanqah Hussainia Naqshbandiyya, was born in a zamindar (agriculturist) family of Waan Bhachran, a town in Mianwali district in a family of hafiz-e-Quran. He received his early education in Persian and Arabic from his father and later from madrassa at Bundial. In 1885, at the age of 18, he proceeded to India, where he completed daura-e-Hadith in the tutelage of Rashid Ahmed Gangohi. Later he went to madrassa Mazahir-ul-Ulum Saharanpur, where he learnt translation and tafseer (exegesis) of Quran from Mazhar Nanautvi, who initially taught him tafseer Madarik-ul-Tanzeel, Tafseer-e-Bezawi followed by Shah Abdul Qadir’s translation of Quran. After completing further studies in logic and philosophy from Ahmed Hassan at Kanpur, he returned to Mianwali in 1889 and started teaching surf, nahav, logic, philosophy, mathematics, fiqah (Islamic Law), Asul-e-fiqah, Hadith, Asul-e-Hadith, tafseer and Asul-e-tafseer at his native town Waan Bhachran. As a Deobandi reformist he followed the traditional pattern of initiation and baiat in the Naqshbandi Mujadidi order with Khawaja Usman Damani, sajjada nashin of khanqah Ahmedia Saeedia Musa Zai Sharif in Dera Ismail Khan. In this sense he had a close connection (pir bhai) with khanqah Sirajia. See Muhammad Ilyas, Maulana Hussian Ali (Peshawar: Ishaat Academy, 1989), 23. The two Deobandi khanqahs, Sirajia and Hussainia, had spiritual allegiance with Naqshbandi khanqah Musa Zai Sharif (District Dera Ismail Khan, NWFP). However Hussain Ali, even in the spiritual training of suluk (sufi path) in the Naqshbandiyya Mujadidiyya order, rejected the mediatory role of mentor (murshid). Hussain Ali, Tuhfa-e-Ibrahimia, 376. Barbara Metcalf explained that the effectiveness of the Deobandis was based on the synthesis of intellectual learning and spiritual experience; tariqat and shariat were considered as two important dimensions of religion. See Barbara Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 139. 55 Muhammad Hussian Shah Neelwi, Nashir-ul-Quran (Gulistan Printing Press: Sargodha), 31. 56 Ingram, Revival from Below. 57 Ilyas, Maulana Hussian Ali, 67. 58 Francis Robinson, ‘Strategies of Authority in Muslim South Asia in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries’, Modern Asian Studies 47, No. 1 (2006), 4. 59 Robinson, Jamal Mian: The Life of Maulana Abdul Wahab of Farangi Mahall, 1919–2012 (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2017), 78–80. 60 Ibn Taimiya, a thirteenth century Hanbali scholar, rejected most forms of Sufism and most formulations of the law schools in favour of a literal reading of the Quran and sunnat. He adopted an approach of literalist Kuranic monotheism, and considered saint worship and grave cultism as polytheism (shirk) and

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65 66 67 68 69

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Reformist Islam and Sufism: A dialectical identity therefore antithetical to Islam. See Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 352. For a detailed study of his thought, see Muhammad Umar Memon, Ibn Taimiya’s Struggle against Popular Religion (Mouton: The Hague, 1976). Ibid., 71. Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 203. Ibid., 63. Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) was the most exalted being of all creation to whom Allah had gifted exceptional powers. The reason, as Ahmed Reza Khan frequently explained, was that the Prophet was God’s beloved, for whom he created the entire universe. All the qualities he possessed had been gifted him by God. Therefore, a determinative difference lay between God and His Prophet: God was uncreated, unconditional, necessary, while the Prophet was a created, limited being. Ahl-e-Sunnat Prophetology was engraved in this dual character, in which Prophet is so close to God; without respect (ta’azeem) for the Prophet there is no faith ( (Iman), without faith there is no efficacy in prayer, and yet he is distinct from Allah and subject to Him. Muhammad’s (pbuh) knowledge was, for Ahmed Reza, a perfect illustration of this pivotal fact. See Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 259; Jamal Malik, Madrasas in South Asia: Teaching Terror (London: Routledge, 2008), 46. Ibid. Ahmed Din Gangvi, Hussain Ali Key Khilaf Fatwa, 234. Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 37. Also see Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 56. See Ingram, Revival from Below. Belief in the Prophet Muhammad’s (pbuh) intercessionary role with Allah on behalf of mankind. At the heart of this lies the belief that Prophet (pbuh) will intercede and ask forgiveness from God for his Ummah on the Day of Judgment. Hussain Ali referred to many surahs and interpreted them to substantiate his own argument. He quoted surah Al-Baqara [48: 2] [123: 2] [254: 2] [255: 2], surah Al-Inam [51: 6] [70: 6], surah Younus [3: 10] [18: 10], surah Al-Anbia [26–29: 21], surah Al-shura [26: 99–102], surah Al-Sajda [4: 32], surah Yaseen [22–23: 36], surahal-Zahruf [43: 86], surah Al-Najm [24–26: 53] that the Prophet (pbuh) will do Shifaat for the faithful and non-believers in the hereafter without any prior knowledge about it. Gangvi denounced Hussain Ali’s interpretation of the concept of Shifaat-e-Qahri (Prophet’s intercessionary role without the permission of Allah). He maintained that Shifaat occurs with the command of Allah, however this does not apply to the Prophet Muhammad, an important element of Shifaat that is ‘Dunyavi Shifaat’, which primarily meant the consistent assistance of the Prophet (pbhu) in the lives of Muslims. The concept of ‘Shifaat-e-Dunyavi’ seemed to negate his concocted theory of ‘Tauheed’ vis-à-vis his religious identity as a ‘Muwahid’. To deny this Gangvi again referred to Ahmed Reza Khan, who wrote in his work Daulat-al Makkiyya, that the Prophet’s ability to intercede (Shifaat) was a gift from God, the Prophet was not unaware of it and it was not a gift held in abeyance until the day of resurrection, it was a constant process and was exercised in the life of people who sought his help. See Hussain Ali, Bulghatul Hairaan, 78 In Islamic eschatology, Munkir Nakir are angels who test the faith of the dead in their graves. Sama mauta is the belief that the dead can listen if fatiha is recited at their grave. See H.A.R.Gibb, Encyclopedia of Islam Vol. 5 (Leiden: Brill, 1979). Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 255 Ahmed Din Gangvi, Hussain Ali Key Khilaf Fatwa, 100; also confirmed by Allama halbi in Sharah Mugheet-ul-musli, Hassan Hussain 7 hadith Tirmizi. Hussain Ali, Ahsan-ul Tafseer (Sargodha: Jamia Zia-ul-Ulum, 1992), 141.

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74 Qasim Zaman, The Ulema in Contemporary Islam: Custodians of Change (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2002), 39. Also see Liyakat Takim, ‘Violence and the Deobandi Movement’, in Faith Based Violence and Deobandi Militancy in Pakistan, Jawad Syed, ed., 491. 75 In meeting the popular demand for guidance, Deoband broadcast its authority widely and reassured ulema that to seek guidance, Muslims should follow sharia. To meet wider demand Deoband established a fatwa office, ‘Dar-ul-Ifta’. 76 Muhammad Qasim Zaman, Islam in Pakistan: A History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018), 199. 77 Ghulam Mehmud, Najm-ur Rehman (Lahore: Rifah-e-Aamapress, 2017), 80. 78 The term ‘Wahhabism’ has connotations of an extreme or fundamentalist PanIslamic political agenda. Wahhabis believe in the Hanbali school of thought, based on Abdul Wahhab’s teachings, followed by the House of Saud. These teachings are based on Salafi school of thought, following Ibn-e-Taymiyya and Imam Hanbal. See Anis Ghani, ‘Muhammad Ibn Abdul Wahhab and Sufism: A Study into Reasons behind and a Remedy for Increased Violent Radicalization among British Muslims’, MA dissertation, Islamic College for Advanced Studies and Middlesex University, 2017, 7. According to Usha Sanyal, the term ‘Wahhabi’ had its origin during the days of the movement of Muwahidun. Numerous nineteenth century renewal movements in India were named ‘Wahhabi’ by rival Muslim group, like tariqa-e-Muhammadia etc. For Ahl-e Sunnat, the term ‘Wahhabi’ was pejoratively used in India after Ahmed Reza Khan used it against number of ulema in Hassam-ul-Haramain. See Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 240–1. 79 Ahmed Din Gangvi was born in a Syed family, settled in a small town ‘Gangi’ on the fringe of the Indus. He received his early education from his father Maulana Ghulam Ali and later joined native Madrassa, Seelvan and then another madrassa in Muzzafargarh and from there proceeded to Delhi for formal and advanced education. He completed his degree in 1865. On his return he took bai’at with Khawaja Muhammad Din Sialvi and initiated into the Chishtiyya Sufi order at Sial Sharif, where he was appointed Mufti-e-Azam by Khawaja Zia-ud-Din Sialvi. See Tariq Masood Shah Kazmi, Sarzameen-e-Aulia Mianwli (Lahore: You and Me Printers, 2008), 38. 80 Ghulam Mehmud was born in piplan, tehsil of Mianwali in 1865, went to jamia Nomania, learnt Mathematics from Maulana Lutfullah Aligarh, and completed his dars-e-Hadith with Maulana Mehmud-ul Hassan from Deoband. He returned to his native town in 1902, established a madrasa Dar-ul-ulum Mehmudia, and started teaching there. In 1907, he received baiat in the Chishtiyya order with Pir Mehr Ali Shah Golra. See Ghulam Mehmud, Najm-ur-Rehman. 81 Ibid., 56. 82 Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 249. 83 Gangvi quoted Imam Shafa’i, who called Imam Musa Kazim’s grave a fount of blessings and Baraka; Imam Ghazali also concurred ‘they are alive in their graves and listen to us’. See Ahmed Din Gangvi, Hussain Ali Kay Khilaf Fatwa, 32. 84 In their role as Sufi guides, they influenced people to conform to the sunnat and emphasized some aspects of Sufi beliefs and practices, reinforcing the reformist message. See Usha Sanyal, Devotional Islam and Politics in British India, 38. 85 Dietrich Reetz, Islam in the Public Sphere: Religious Groups in India, 1900–1947 (London: Oxford University Press, 2006), 112. 86 Ibid., 342. 87 Sana Haroon, ‘The Rise of Deobandi Islam in North West Frontier Pakistan and its Implication in Colonial India and Pakistan 1914–1996’, Journal of Royal Asiatic Society 18, No. 1 (2008), 65. 88 Ilyas, Maulana Hussian Ali, 23.

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89 See Muhammad Qasim Zaman, ‘Commentaries, Print and Patronage: Hadith and the Madrasas in Modern South Asia’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 62, No. 1 (1999). For detailed study of the impact of print on Muslim societies, see Francis Robinson, ‘Technology and Religious Change: Islam and the Impact of Print’, Modern Asian Studies 27 (1993), 229–51; on the media other than print, see Lawrence and Susan S. Wadley, eds., Media and the Transformation of Religion in South (Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995); also see Ira M. Lapidus, ‘Islam in the Historical Experience of the Muslim Peoples’, in Islamic Studies: A Tradition and its Problems, Malcolm Kerr, ed. (Malibu: Undena Publications), 89–102. 90 Nile Green, Bombay Islam: The Religious Economy of the West Indian Ocean, 1840–1915 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 31, 140. 91 Reetz, Islam in the Public Sphere, 113. 92 Ilyas, Hussain Ali, 219. 93 Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 216. 94 Ibid. 95 Kenneth W. Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India (New Delhi: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 120–1. 96 Hussain Ali’s khalifa Maulana Ghulamullah Khan established a separate organization ‘Jamiyat Ishaat tauhid wa Sunnat’ in Rawalpindi in 1957 which served as a mouthpiece of his religious thoughts under the patronage of Maulana Naseer-ud-Din Ghorghashtawi, Maulana Waliullah Anhi walay and Maulana Abdur Rehman Behboodi. 97 Ali, Tafseer-ul-Quran, 134–5. 98 Neelwi, Nashir-ul-Quran, 78 99 Ibid., 71. Shauba-e-tabligh said in its advertisement that Muslims are embroiled in moral issues. There are controversies between ulema which are dividing the community into various religious sects. To integrate them, ulema have been invited to preach them in the right direction. Muslims should follow what they had been taught by Allah, they don’t need to create innovations in religion. Muslims should alienate themselves from those who are disrespectful towards the Prophet (pbuh). 100 Mark Juergensmeyer, Religion as Social Vision: The Movement against Untouchability in 20th-Century Punjab (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1982), 279. 101 Samina Awan, Political Islam in Colonial Punjab, Majlis-i-Ahrar 1929–1949 (London: Oxford University Press, 2010), 79. 102 Umer, Maulana Muhammad Gulsher, 128. 103 In 1919, when the Rowlatt Act was passed and a virulent anti-government agitation started throughout the province, an act of agitation was also demonstrated by a few railway employees at Kundian Railway Station. They disrupted the telecommunications system; the situation was soon controlled by the deployment of troops at Kalabagh, Mianwali, Daud Khel, Kundian and Bhakkar to guard railway communications. This indicated that any slight commotion would provok a serious response by the government. The disturbance also revealed the fact that the people involved in the act were based in other districts and had an adequate awareness of the political turmoil in the Punjab, whereas the natives were politically inert and mostly ignorant. See D. J. Boyd, Esquire, ICS, Record of the War Services of Mianwali District (Lahore: Civil & Military Gazette Press, 1922), 5–6. 104 Tahir Kamran, ‘Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam: Religion, Socialism and Agitation in Action’ South Asian History and Culture 4, No. 4 (2013), 2. 105 Smith, Modern Islam in India: A Social Analysis, 270. 106 Ibid. 107 Gooptu, Politics of the Urban Poor, 14.

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108 Nakra, Wichra Watan: Memories of Mianwali, My Parted Home, 45. 109 Illahi, Tuhfa-e-Sadia, 71. 110 C. A. Bayly, The New Cambridge History of India: Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire (London: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 158, 162, 164. 111 The tribes in possession of large tracts of land were in an ascendant position, thus they had been favourably disposed to establish a strong nexus with the British through their leaders. Nawab Amir Muhammad Khan of Kalabagh and Ata Muhammad Khan joined the Unionist Party as loyal allies of the British. Nirwani and Lashari, the Baluch tribes of Bhakkar, were politically active. Afzal Khan Dhandla and another leading zamindar of Bhakkar joined the Unionist Party. The Khawanins of Isa Khel dominated the politics of the region. Khan Bahadur Saifullah Khan also held the position of Parliamentary Secretary in 1926. Khan Bahadur Laddhu Khan of Darya Khan, Amir Muhammad Khan from Nawan Jandan, Dost Muhammad Khan from Piplan, and Malik Muzaffar Khan of Wan Bhachran were zealous representatives of the Unionist Party. The latter was conferred the title of Khan Sahib by the British in lieu of his war services to the government. He worked as an active recruitment agent in enlisting men in the British Army. All these tribal leaders had influence of their own in their respective constituencies and were elected not on a party platform but through their power and authority with the people of the area. See Sumbal, ‘Tribal Configuration of Mianwali District’, 98. 112 Ibid. 113 Ramzan, Fath-e-Mubeen (Mianwali: Khanqah Sirajia Press, 2004), 78. 114 Robinson, ‘Strategies of Authority in Muslim South Asia in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries’, 11. Also see Robinson, Islam, South Asia, and the West, 78–9; and see biographies of Abdul Hamid and Abdul Majid Farangi Mahalli, Robinson, Separatism among Indian Muslims, 421, 423–4. 115 David Gilmartin, Empire and Islam: Punjab and the Making of Pakistan (London: I.B. Tauris & Co., 1989), 18. 116 Bryan S. Turner, Religion and Social Theory (London: Sage Publications, 1991), 7. 117 Akbar S. Ahmed and David M. Hart, Islam in Tribal Societies: From the Atlas to the Indus (London: Routledge, 2013), 9. 118 Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 30. 119 Turner, Religion and Social Theory, 200. 120 Rafiud Din Ahmed, ‘Conflict and contradictions in Bengali Islam: Problems of change and adjustment’, in Shari’at and Ambiguity in South Asian Islam, Katherine P. Ewing, ed., 138.

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Reformist Islam and Majlis-i-Ahrar’s politics of nationalism

This chapter examines how the religious reform movement moved beyond a community identity based on religion or ethnicity to a nationality or a nation in the initial decades of the twentieth century. This national community mobilized itself for political action against the expansion of social groups, the colonial intermediaries, Hindu moneylenders, and colonial imperialist policies under the aegis of British colonialism. Religion was used to stress the constitution of a distinct Muslim community embedded in a singular Islamic identity. This chapter argues that, from 1920 onwards, sharia-oriented Islamic reform that subsequently culminated into religious nationalism had a flipside, the hardening of communal identities. Reformist Islam espoused unity at the national level but at the regional or sub-regional level (s) it worked to drive a communal wedge into the pluralist social ethos. All it led up to was the communally divided society. The use of religious and nationalist rhetoric constructed a Muslim ethno-religious identity which sustained anti-colonial nationalism and resulted in communal politics. The chapter is divided into three sections. The first section explores the process in an era of identity formation, which was constructed in a particular colonial moment, led to the emergence of the socio-religious movement that sought to return to the ‘fundamentals’ of religion. Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam1 with a reformist bent attempted to ameliorate the lot of the peasants, who were subjected to the exploitative modes of the affluent class, the Hindu Moneylenders, and fanned the flames of communalism. Religion was used as a rhetoric for the social and political mobilization of the rural poor against the Hindu commercial class; ambitions for social uplifting were couched in religious language. The social change was mediated by religion, as the fundamental division in society emanated from religious and economic realities. The second section examines the reliance on the mobilization of religious symbols linked with anti-colonial nationalism in the wake of World War II. Majlis-i-Ahrar and Khudai Khidmatgar, with nationalist and anti-imperialist ideology, contested recruitment into the colonial army by using religious idioms. The political activism of Ahrar DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-4

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became an instrument of dissemination of sharia-oriented Deobandi Islam. As Bryan Turner says, religion sometimes acts as the substitute for and sometimes the companion to nationalism.2 Religion functioned here as a companion to nationalism, articulated in communal politics by hardening religious boundaries. The third section highlights how Ahrar launched an anti-feudal movement in Kalabagh and challenged the traditional power pattern erected by colonial intermediaries in the Punjab. This was not just calling into question the authority of the landed elite but also the colonial state which was at their back. This ultimately resulted in the development of a platform for later Muslim League politics. In the second decade of the twentieth century, politics was marked not only by nationalist competition but it also included caste, communal and class contestation(s). The indigenous elite resented the British attack on their culture and religion, which became in Weberian terms the carrier of reform movements and constructed exclusive community boundaries. Religious nationalism drew upon this exclusivity, providing the impetus for social change.3 The diversity of religious communities in the Punjab led to a greater number of socio-religious movements in the region, including Arya Samaj by Dayanand, Shudhi, Sanghtan, Nirankaris and Namdharis as Sikh movements. All socio-religious movements were fundamentalist and resulted in inter-religious polemics in Punjab. In these religious controversies, Hindus and Muslims were deemed competitive, oppositional groups which consolidated communal strife.4 The new ideological formations having sprung up as a result of socio-religious reformist movements5 were the forerunners of the anti-colonial nationalist struggle.6 The movements constructed an ideological world with secular nationalism,7 communalism,8 and socialism as its important components; religion however was the dominant ideology that underpinned nationalism.9 In colonial India, Muslim religious discourse came to be linked with the discourse of the nation state, as the nation continued to be defined in terms of religion rather than in secular terms.10 Nationalism and communalism emerged as contrapuntal ideologies, locked into mutual antagonism. Secular nationalism contributed to the emergence of communalism because it side-stepped religion in the public sphere. Communalism was concurrent with the age of nationalism.11 The socio-religious movements acted as a medium of protest and dissent in the colonial milieu. The fusion of religion and politics led to the formation of political organization of religious groups. One such example is the rise of Pan-Islamism which eventually culminated in the Khilafat movement of 1920. The number of new regional and religio-political parties like Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam, the Khaksar movement, the Unionist party, the Red Shirts, the Krishak Proja Party and Jamiyat-e-Ulema-eHind emerged in India after the Khilafat movement was abolished. During the 1930s and 1940s, the landed aristocracy of the Punjab flourished under British patronage. Muslim urban intelligentsia was highly indignant with the imperial hierarchy on the socio-religious and economic issues the Muslim community faced. Political parties such as Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam emerged, reflecting a growing sense of religious identity in their agitational politics in the Punjab. In

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the midst of rising communal conflict in the Punjab, Ahrar with a revivalist orientation entered into Kalabagh to eradicate imperialism and feudalism. In Ahrar’s ideology, the combination of religion and politics, communism and patriotism meant that the Ahrar would ultimately agitate in multiple political arenas. In the process of the politicization of religion, religious identities were crystallized and loyalty to the religious group intensified.12

Kalabagh under imperial control Kalabagh, the most ancient commercial town situated on the right bank of the river Indus, owed its existence to the celebrated salt quarries. The town was predominantly inhabited by peasant and artisan communities. Boat making, cotton weaving and manufacturing iron vessels were the main local industries. The river was an important trade route before the opening of the Kalabagh-Bannu railway in 1913. The proliferation of the railway network gradually increased trade, and the town became a redistribution point for agricultural produce and a marketing centre for locally produced products.13 Kalabagh was also the home of Awan Maliks,14 the landlords who called themselves ‘Rais’ (‘patron’) whose ability to mediate with higher authorities and maintain the system of patronage was vital for the colonial government.15 C. A. Bayly notes ‘a small country town deeply embedded in the fabric of rural society was a stronghold of landlords and moneylenders who shaped the form of the peasant household’.16 The structure of the town of Kalabagh linked to what Max Weber called a ‘patrimonial system of government’.17 The system centred on the patron-client relationship which was an established norm; these relationships were part of a stratified system based on class, castes and tribal identities. The British chose Nawab Ameer Muhammad Khan (1910–1967) as their intermediary, strengthened his economic control and conferred on him the title of ‘Nawab’ and rights to the landowning gentry.18 The rural poor had an aversion to the transformation of customary dues into landlord rights. With the coming of the British this ‘patrimonial system of government’ came to co-exist with the modern bureaucratic system of government. The entire district was locked into a pattern of imperial subordination, maintained through a patron-client system. The aftermath of World War I inflicted economic dislocation and sudden demobilization, pressures from landlords for enhanced rents, and other cesses.19 Peasants were the major victims of all these extortions.20 The Nawab levied illegal and oppressive taxes which struck more directly and extensively on the economic activities, housing and settlement patterns of the poor.21 The Nawab’s exploitation emanated from the control he exercised over resources, with the help of local forces which controlled the mobility of wealth, especially the moneylenders. The Nawab’s own family was engaged in the business of moneylending; he thereby lent support to the Hindu moneylenders.22 Bayly also observes in Rulers, Townsmen and Bazars, that northern Indian merchants and moneylenders were part of a wider grouping of ‘intermediate

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23

classes’ which mediated between state and agrarian society. Colonial economic policies of a fixed and inelastic system of collection of land revenue exacerbated the dire straits the peasants and small farmers were already in.24 As the land became a valuable commodity, a class of moneylenders had spread throughout the district. If the borrower or mortgager did not redeem his land in a specified time the land was transferred to the moneylender. According to the 2nd Settlement report, 1908, of the district, the total area mortgaged to the moneylenders increased from 1.7 to 2.9 percent. The percentage of cultivated mortgaged area had risen from 3.1 to 9.6, according to the 3rd Settlement report of 1928, since the money lenders were inclined to take cultivated land on mortgage. On the whole 6 percent of the area was mortgaged.25 Since the 3rd Settlement 1928, 13,396 acres had been sold for Rs. 2,707,998. Out of this area only 532 acres had been alienated in favour of non-agriculturists, mainly Hindus.26 The figures furnished in these schedules provide sufficient reason why smallholders were always trapped in debt with moneylenders. Similarly a few weavers worked with their own capital, but the majority obtained their capital on credit from moneylenders.27 Poverty, the need for protection, shortage of cash and credit, chronic indebtedness, low wages, floods and drought often forced the peasants into the arms of patrons.28 The exploitative control over the economic resources generated hatred and communal feelings that the Muslim peasantry must have nursed for the Hindu moneylenders. To redress the grievances of the poor, a movement for the social and economic uplift of peasants was set in motion in Kalabagh in 1928 by Muhammad Gulsher Khan29 (1899–1944), an ideologue of Majlis-i-Ahrar, a madrasa-trained

Table 3.1 Percentage of agricultural area mortgaged during the 2nd and 3rd Settlement Period

To agriculturists

To nonagriculturists

Percentage of total area

Percentage of cultivated area

2nd Settlement 3rd Settlement 1930–31

7.1 11.0 12.6

9.7 2.5 1.9

16.8 13.5 14.5

25.3 15.6 15.9

Source: Assessment Report 1932, Mianwali District, 18

Table 3.2 Statistics of sales of land Period

To agriculturists

To nonagriculturists

Total area

Cultivated area

Before 2nd Settlement From 2nd to 3rd Settlement Since 3rd Settlement

4.8 8.4 2.5

1.7 1.4 1.0

6.5 9.8 2.6

9.1 9.5 3.2

Source: Assessment Report of Mianwali District 1932, p. 18

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cleric with reformist zeal who had built up his first rural audiences. As Indian politics became increasingly communalized, the Ahrar seemed to also become increasingly sectarian in other parts of the Punjab; however, when it entered Kalabagh, with its socialist agenda, politics revolved around three main positions, communal, anti-imperialist and anti-feudal. In accordance with its ideology, Ahrar tried to break the economic power of the Hindu commercial communities. It launched a vigorous campaign against recruitment into the colonial army, which was being widely assisted by the landed elite as recruiting agents.30 It struck at the power and exploitation of the poor by the landed aristocracy, who were patronized by the colonial government.

From community to communalism: Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam’s socio-religious reform movement Gail Minault observes that ‘religion offers a sheet anchor in a time of economic, political and moral uncertainties and threats’.31 Reformist ideas acquired space in those political moments where Ahrar was able to mobilize the peasantry through a religious idiom against the Hindu commercial group and existing powers of the state. Ideologically, Ahrar was influenced by socialist ideals, formulated on an egalitarian basis, reconciling the Islamic reformist message with radical anti-British and anti-capitalist rhetoric.32 The resentment caused by economic exploitation was articulated through religious expression. Theologically driven socio-economic stress fostered a sense of communal and class solidarity, using religion as a rallying ideology against Hindu moneylenders. In the interwar period (1928–1938), the reformist ideas gained new life. Political ideologues and religious leaders emphasized the concepts of the ideal nation and national community. Ahrar envisaged religion as a means to protect Muslims from being effaced. In the given conditions Ahrar became the need of the working class for their social emanicipation.33 The chief concern was to constitute and invigorate a unified community of devout Muslims and to strengthen them economically by acting upon Islamic principles of economy; hence religion came to be a rallying ideology against economic and other forms of exploitation,34 and hence it drew closer to politics.35 The emphasis on religious identity expressed through religious symbols, communalized identity, which Sandria Freitag very aptly terms ‘communalism acting as an instrument to mobilize community for collective action’.36 The focus of Ahrar was to forge a distinctive Muslim identity for united action and the formation of collective community. The religious fervour caused by the sense of being a distinct religious community became a driving force against the Hindus and colonial state. The leaders of Ahrar came from all sectarian denominations, but the more avid association was with the Deoband school of thought. Gulsher37 the ideologue of Ahrar with his Deobandi orientations, espoused Sufistic practices, venerated Sufi saints and was initiated in the Chishtiyya Sufi order. His message was strictly reformist, focused on eliminating the religious, cultural and civilizational impact of Hindus from the lives of Muslims. Ahrar took Deobandi reformist

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Islam to the public space in Kalabagh and stressed those religious practices and tenets of Islam which made a clear differentiation between Hindus and Muslims and zealously emphasized the ‘fundamentals’ of Islam. People turned to his message of Muslim revitalization as they were disturbed by the ‘malpractices’ of Hindu moneylenders and the oppressive policies of the local elite. What made religious identity a central feature of politics was the realization that the other group (the Hindus) was benefitting economically while they themselves were being deliberately excluded.38 Ahrar had made skilful use of the frustrations of poverty and exploitation to appeal to religious sentiments. In times of rural social, political and economic stress, the protest embraced religious rhetoric.39 Ahrar had a stance of anti-Sufism in central Punjab, as in kalabagh; it worked in association with Barelwi Sufis and sajjada nashins to create a united front against the patron-client system constructed by the colonial state and its intermediary social groups in which the landed elite and Hindu moneylenders had a central position. The alliance between Deobandi and Barelwi ulema did not merely have to compete against the imperial structure of dominance, but also had to safeguard their own religious and political authority, questioned by Khaksars who with an egalitarian approach stressed the ideal of a new ‘Muslimized’ world, contested the religion of the mulla, and declared them incapable of becoming leaders of the nation.40 Khaksar’s criticism of Deobandi, Barelwis, Bugwis, a family of Sunni scholars from the city of Bhera, Punjab, Ahl-e-Hadith, and all other religious groups rallied the ulema of all sectarian denominations against it and launched a counter movement in which Ahrar had a pivotal role. Gulsher invited the leading Deobandi, Barelwi ulema and sajjada nashins to set up another semi-military organization called Fauj-e-Muhammadi to combat the propaganda of Khaksars.41 To compete with its progressive views of a ‘Muslimized’ world, the ulema launched their counter movement with a reformist disposition. Barelwi ulema and sajjada nashins shared the view with the Deobandis that reforming the masses was an urgent imperative. The Barelwis also shared the Deobandi revulsion of false practices, not in conjunction with sharia but surrounding Sufi tombs.42 This also negated the common misconception that Barelwis were less concerned about sharia than Deobandis. The theological differences converged on the idea of a unified Muslim community identity which transcended the religious differences between Deobandis, Barelwis and other religious denominations. With their reformist bent, all articulations and denominations were linked with the notion of singular Islamic identity. It served as a rallying ideology to unite Sufistic strands and reformist articulations in a quest for a greater objective: to become a devout community. Local power relations connecting shrines and their incumbents, the sajjada nashins, to a form of Sufi Islam with Deobandis and other denominations infused an added vigour through thousands of their devotees to the strength of Ahrar. Initially the focus of the movement was to empower Muslims economically and reduce their dependence on moneylenders. To assist Muslims in economic

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matters, Anjuman Islah-ul-Muslimeen was established in the district in 1933, comprising the leading Deobandi and Barelwi ulema of the district.43 The organization gave interest free loans to Muslim zamindars and poor peasants, and those who did not have the capacity to pay back were exempted from retiring the loan. Such people were entitled to receive fixed aid. Among other sources of economic aid was the collection of usher from villages.44 The inter-tribal feuds ended up in lawsuits, and a long litigation process and huge sums of money spent in courts drew those involved towards moneylenders. To prevent this, conciliatory courts were set up to give a verdict on the spot to quickly resolve the disputes.45 Muslims were also motivated to engage themselves in trade and commerce. The beleaguered Muslim community, mired in poverty, considered it hard to compete with the commercially astute Hindus; moreover they considered it essentially a Hindu occupation and felt averse to it. This primarily meant there was a segmentation of the labour market along the lines of caste or religious community. Divided and competitive conditions of work among members of various communities for certain occupations generated an expression of communal identities.46 To encourage Muslims, Gulsher joined the Muslim bazaar campaign in Delhi darwaza Lahore. The villagers were exhorted to purchase groceries from Muslim shopkeepers only. In one of his speeches, he condemned the dishonest and unfair dealings of Hindu traders and warned them that they would face the wrath of God.47 The entire salt range belt including Attock District was a heavy military recruitment area. Retired army personnel were convinced to set up shops and to carry out their business activities. Some of them opened up their shops in various districts in the Punjab, including Mianwali, Sargodha, Attok, Jehlum, Bhakkar, Muzaffargarh and Rawalpindi.48 At one level, Gulsher struck at the economic power and authority of the Hindu moneylenders, at another level he challenged their religion with missionary and proselytizing activities (tabligh). He claimed to convert a few Hindus to Islam in the towns of Sanwans, Musa Khel and Bori Khel.49 The Muslim peasantry increasingly turned to public observance of Islamic practices as they viewed empowerment through religion as the most significant element of asserting their distinctive communal identity.50 The people were reminded that ‘reviving the forgotten tenants of Islam was the religious obligation of every Muslim. The rituals constructed a vital field of resistance. Ahrar convinced people to condemn the restriction imposed by Hindus against slaughtering cows. The protection of gau-mata (mother cow) became one of the most important issues of Hindu nationalism between 1880 and 1920. The observance of religious rituals in an antagonistic public space became a mark of resistance, articulated power and intensified communal conflict in society.51 The cow protection movement created a rift between Muslims and Hindus.52 In many northern Indian towns, societies for the protection of cows (Gauraksha Sabha) by Arya Samajis and other Hindus were established.53 It was in this context that the cow slaughter issue moved from a quiet affair to a serious one. Ahrar instructed people to sacrifice cows and distributed the meat in public. This confident public elaboration of

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religious rituals with martial overtones represented the contestation of the marginalized status of Muslims against the dominant Hindu commercial groups. The use of religious rhetoric was markedly communalist in its orientation.54 As Peter Vander Veer states, ‘ritual practices and forms of communication based on religion provided a basis for the formation of social identities’, and hence the observance of religious rituals in an antagonistic environment was a mark of resistance, and religion became a dominant idiom for the discursive forging of the nation.55 The observance of religious rituals in an antagonistic environment was a mark of resistance, and articulated power which intensified the conflict in the society.56 William Gould very aptly argues that the performance of religion and the traditions and cultures associated with it were never responsible for communal conflict in India, but the ways those traditions were processed and propagated were often communally divisive.57 Communal conflict was not only reflected in the observance of rituals, it also ranged over the issue pertaining to Muslim women’s izzat (honour). Being a virtuous Muslim was a matter of honour. A serious incident was provoked when two young Muslim women visited shops to purchase groceries and young Hindu men jeered at them and made insulting remarks.58 It was to this communal sense of honour that appeals were made to Muslim women to observe the purdah (veil) in public places. The question of a woman’s honour was perceived as the collective honour of a community.59 The individual who gave the insult was viewed as acting on behalf of his entire community, and it was a grave communal insult upon the other community in its entirety.60 Eric Stokes rightly observed that the marginalized did not always revolt due to material deprivation and economic exploitation; the diminution of honour and status vis-à-vis other communities was a more potent provocation against the status quo.61 The exercise of moral behaviour in public and observing the purdah (veil) was also associated with patriarchal power as the image of the nation-state exercised over female bodies. Using the idiom of family, nationalism makes the modesty of women come to signify the honour of the nation, safeguarded by a patriarchal state.62 Similarly the issues of control over the resources of water, wells and springs between Hindus and Muslims, indicated that like labour markets and occupation, housing settlement, land and water were also specified along community, caste and religious lines. The conflict was triggered when Hindus occupied all three wells constructed in the village: the Mehr Chand well, the Naianwala well and the well for cattle exclusively. They constructed a temple near it and stopped Muslims from entering that area.63 Muslims in retaliation started building a mosque near the spring. A Hindu jatha (group) started arriving at the contested site to prevent Muslims from building the mosque. Realising the gravity of the situation the Deputy Commissioner resolved the matter by declaring equal rights for Hindus and Muslims on use of the well.64 The dispute over controlling the space and territory partially arose as both tried to retain control over land and water by using religious symbols, building a temple near a well and a mosque close to a water spring demonstrated that land connected to religious activities

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had become sacred and could not be interfered with, thus joining the sacred and profane together.65 These material rivalries needed to be seen symbiotically in relation to religious change, generated by the forming of religious identities, eventually leading to communal conflict. In the dominant structure of a Hindu commercial milieu, the Muslim self-assertion and contesting of their social and economic dominance by the Hindus bred religious militancy as an integral part of the popular Muslim politics.66 In a peasant society, religion is usually employed as a strategy to resolve problems that emerge within the society.67 The religious movement served on one level as a collective attempt to overcome the perceived threats the Muslim community faced, and on another level, the emphasis on religious identity deepened the cultural separatism. Competition and confrontation with Hindus for a share in the economic resources exacerbated communal antagonism and stimulated separatist thinking. The self-assertion of the people at the local level gradually dovetailed with the nationalist movement. The socio-religious reform movement became a forerunner of the anti-colonial nationalist struggle, which grew in conflict with existing state structures.

From communalism to nationalism: Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam and the boycott of military recruitment The religio-political politics around a singular Muslim identity strengthened Pan-Islamic and anti-colonial nationalism, which came to be an instrument for political mobilization against British colonial rule during the 1930s and 1940s. Muslims across India conceived of nationalism in religious parlance, and so it was radically anti-imperialist. Majlis-i-Ahrar came into being with the efforts of the former Khilafatists and pro-Indian National Congress nationalists as a result of a schism which had appeared between the Ulema of Deoband and the modernist Muslim section spearheaded by Muhammad Ali and Shaukat Ali. Other Muslim movements like Khuda-i-Khidmatgar, Khaksar, Krishak Proja Party and Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Hind were also established with the same ideology. Majlis-i-Ahrar was not the only organization in Mianwali to denounce World War II as a purely imperialist struggle.68 Khudai Khidmatgar69 also entered onto the political stage of the district and challenged military recruitment into the colonial army. It wielded great influence on the burgeoning political consciousness of the NWFP province. Majlis-i-Ahrar moved the religious community identity beyond local issues and fused it into the national level ideology of anti-imperialism which had its expression in the boycott of the recruitment of Indians into the colonial army.70 Ahrar, thawarted by the indifferent British attitude towards Muslim issues, its collapse in the 1937 elections, breakup with Congress and mounting political animosity with Unionist party, began to decay. In order to stay alive and relevant in the politics of Punjab, and taking advantage of wide public discontentment caused by forced enlistment into the army, Ahrar launched an anti-recruitment campaign in 1939 in rural Punjab.71 Ahrar’s politics became

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more intense, espoused unitary nationalism (freedom from British rule) and drew on religious authority to legitimize change. This proved to be an effective instrument for political mobilization against British rule in India. The new ideological formation became the forerunner of the anti-colonial nationalist struggle in Kalabagh. During the 1930s, Punjab politics was charged by anticolonial sentiments; these nationalist ideas were articulated in the movement to boycott of military recruitment and the anti-feudal movement of Kalabagh. With the outbreak of World War II in September 1939 and India’s entry into the war, a general feeling proliferated across the country that the British had imposed another imperialist war and Indians should not help the British unless they committed themselves to granting India complete independence. The Punjab had to play the most significant role in extending funds and providing men and materials as it did in World War I . After World War II began, the civil and military institutions coalesced into a single and strong machinery to generate recruits from Punjab.72 Hassan Askari Rizvi maintained, ‘The military and the government of British India were more equal partners, rather than subordinate to it’.73 The political life of the Punjab was dominated by the war efforts and the Unionist party unconditionally supported the British war efforts. Mianwali with its predominantly Pathan population was identified as a recruiting region. The social and economic backwardness of the district substantiated the colonial policy enshrined in ‘Martial Race Theory’. The local elite in the district, who held prized posts in government and local administration extended a tremendous amount of donations and investments in the war fund. The divisional officers, Tehsildars, Magistrates and Zaildars, demonstrated their indispensability to the state in recruitment; the government in return strengthened their positions by awarding them landed rewards and titles.74 In return for the services of the local elite to the British government, two rectangles of land were given to Malik Muhammad Qasim of Chakrala, who raised 100 recruits for the British Army. Two rectangles were given to Malik Ghulam Haider Khan, Zaildar of Darya Khan. The title of Nawab was conferred on Malik Atta Muhammad Khan of Kalabagh who contributed one lakh in war fund and Rs. 75,000 to the aeroplane fund. The title of Khan Sahib was given to Malik Ameer Khan, Zaildar of Wan Bhachran, and Malik Laddhu, Zaildar of Kotla Jam, for their recruiting services. The 130th Baluchistan infantry established a forwarding depot in Bhakkar. The 124th Baluchistan infantry set up a depot in Mianwali and enlisted 500 young men from the district in 2–21st Punjabis.75 In addition to these privileges and monetary benefits, the colonial intermediaries (landed elite) helped the government in forcible enlistment into the colonial army and inexorably tried to suppress every anti-imperialist movement in the district, which caused resentment among the local people.76 When Ahrar launched a religiously motivated anti-recruitment movement, it received an overwhelming response. The attempt to develop a distinctive singular Muslim identity with a nationalist stance combined the forces of Islam and nationalism, which was considered vital for national liberation. Harnik Deol also notes that in the

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19th century, with the beginning of modern politics in India, the narrative of the nation has been derived from religious identification.77 Ahrar’s working committee in its meeting held in Amritsar warned the British to grant freedom to India.78 If the British government balked at announcing independence for India, Majlis-i-Ahrar would adopt the recourse of opposing recruitment to the colonial army tooth and nail.79 They would not let Muslim recruits be used by the Farangi (British),80 as fighting for them would amount to rebelling against the teachings of Islam.81 The growing sense of deprivation was central to the emerging religious assertion in politics. Ahrar leaders like Attaullah Shah Bukhari, Inayat Ullah Chishti and Ghulam Ghaus Hazarwi (1896–1981) (JUH) were aware of the socio-economic and political issues in kalabagh and Mianwali and their relevance with Ahrar’s socialist ideology, as they had a close association with khanqah Sirajia and Maulana Hussain Ali. Ahrar’s multi-dimensional approach in politics, its political activism, combining socialist ideals in a religious framework, and its assertive Muslim nationalism enhanced Mianwali’s significance in the body politic of the Punjab and inversely Punjab’s importance in Indian politics. Ahrar’s major focus was to draw the rural poor to the politics of nationalism and Muslim separatism for political mobilization. It extended patronage to the poor and stood as the champion of their rights. With such leadership having come to the fore, the larger responsibility for political mobilization at the grassroots rested with ulema and Sufis.82 Mosques became the nuclei for much of the political activities,83 volunteer corps were organized, speeches delivered and meetings held. This dual role of Ahrar’s leadership helped to link local concerns with wider politics. To whip up people’s religious sentiments, the speakers reminded them of the dismantling of the Ottomon Caliphate and the disrespectful attitude of the British towards holy places in Saudi Arab and Baghdad. In response to his eloquent oration, People shouted the slogans of ‘Azadi Zindabad’ and ‘Farangi Samraj Murdabad’. The most popular slogan during the boycott movement was ‘Gorian nay taaj gorian nay sir, Gorian nay laam gorian nay sir’ (When the British adorn their head with a crown, they should fight their war on their own).84 In a three-day Ahrar conference at Pindi Gheb in June 1939, Mazhar Ali Azhar delivered a provocative speech against military recruitment and encouraged the peasant and labour class to unify against the British government.85 Atta Ullah Shah Bukhari said, ‘it was a religious obligation of Muslims to drive the British out of their homeland and free the country’. Various public meetings were organized in Mianwali, Moch, MusaKhel, Kalabagh, Bhakar and IsaKhel in July 1939, addressed by the main ideologues of Ahrar such as Habib-ur-Rehman Ludhianvi, Atta Ullah Shah Bukhari, Qazi Ihsan Ahmed Shujaabadi, Maulana Gulsher and Abd-ur-Raheem Aajiz.86 They spoke vehemently against the British; while addressing a congregation at IsaKhel, Maulana Gulsher said, ‘I have realized that the British are far more dangerous than Hindus. The British undermined our religion, faith, civilization and usurped our freedom. I had been fighting against the exploitation of the Hindus; I alone can

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annihilate them. But to get rid of the British and secure freedom I need your support. I earnestly believe, if we boycott military recruitment, British imperialism would die its natural death. I assure you, I would fight until I die’.87 Apart from political awareness, their bold and condemnatory tone and tenor liberated the people from fear of the British. The anti-imperialist expression embraced radically intense agitation and sparked religious and nationalist sentiments. Reformist Islam came to be established as the most relevant strand due to Ahrar’s nationalist discourse, linked with the idea of a unified Muslim community embedded in singular Islamic identity. Moreover, the increasing interaction between people and the mainstream ideologues of Ahrar and Jamiyat-e-Ulemae-Hind created a dominance of sharia-oriented Islam in the region. Ahrar leaders strongly expounded the concept of Hakumat-e-Illahiya88 in their speeches. The ideologues of Ahrar, particularly Gulsher, spoke vociferously about the dire need to establish Hakumat-e-Illahia in various conferences and congregations held at Saharanpur, Talagang, Gujrat, Jhelum and Attock.89 Ahrar’s political ideology, Hakumat-e-Illahia, spelt out that more powers should be devolved to the provinces. It also aimed to fight to set the subject people free from the exploitation of imperialism and feudalism, and ensure the equal distribution of wealth and freedom to live according to the sharia.90 The ideology of Hakumat-e-Illahia became the most effective strategy for Ahrar’s politics, and openly challenged the government. This ideological mix underpinning Ahrar’s ideology led the party’s appeal towards religious emotional idealism.91 The striking character of the Indian nationalist movement was to draw the masses into the struggle to expel the British from India and generate a sense of territorial identity in the fold of Islam.92 The anti-colonial nationalist articulation of Ahrar replaced the earlier sense of community, based on non-territorial identity and fuzzy boundaries with multiple identities, enshrined in religion, caste and tribes. The nationalist rhetoric instead yielded the notion of a modern national community, risen out of an aspiration to live in an enumerated, mapped world with intense territorial attachment and defined boundaries. Traditional society in Kalabagh was made up of a structure of groups, of fuzzily conceived space and fuzzily sensed and imagined time. People were living with no clarity of where one’s community or region ended and another began, which helped them to live in a less hostile coexistence.93 Religion and secular nationalism combined in unforeseen ways, working paradoxically. It fostered communal identities at one level; at another level they were working as two competing frameworks. The first representing a particular communal group and the second identified with the idea of a national state; both claimed authority for the social order from a common rival, the British colonial power. Juergensmeyer called it a dialectic between the two.94 This said, the sense of a shared all-India community energized into an aggressive communalism now turned towards Hindu-Muslim cooperation for the greater cause of freedom for India. With this in view, Gulsher agreed to participate in the conference organized by Congress in collaboration with ulema of JUH on the occasion of the visit of Hussain Ahmed Madani (1879–1957)95 to

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Mianwali (which he had rejected a few years prior due to JUH’s alliance with Congress). The conference was organized by the President of Congress Mianwali, Chandi Raam, in Mahabeer Dil Guru (Muslim Bazar).96 Ataullah Shah Bukhari’s statement also shows that despite differences and resentment, Muslims were willing to make an alliance with the Hindus to fight the greater enemy; he said ‘I want to defeat the big enemy with the help of the small enemy; I will not even restrain myself from making an alliance with the pigs to kill the British’.97 The idea underpinning the movement to emphasise the concept of Ummah (a universal Islamic community) gave centrality to reformist Islam (sharia) in the town. Reformist Islam provided Muslims of various religious groups a uniform template to galvanize around anti-British rhetoric. A conference of Ahrar was organized at Gulsher’s native town Malhowali (Attock District) on July 30–31, 1939. A resolution was passed against military recruitment and seconded by Attaullah Shah Bukhari, Habib-ur-Rehman and Gulsher which stated that ‘Muslims would not enlist in the military until the British government gives its word to grant freedom to all Muslim countries from its colonial control, and the government must guarantee that it would not use its forces against any Muslim country’.98 Pan-Islamic ideology coupled with anti-colonial nationalism came to be an instrument to resist British hegemony. The nationalist impulse exhibited by Khudai Khidmatgars in a religious idiom was also essentially anti-imperialist to the core in its orientation. Khudai Khidmatgar developed its nexus with Pan-Islamist and reformist elements, coalescing Pushtun ethno-regionalism with Muslim nationalism. Khudai Khidmatgar and the boycott of military recruitment With social amelioration being its principal objective, Khudai Khidmatgar had its way into the district to contest recruitment into the colonial army. Mianwali’s geographical location was such that it became a point of convergence of different socio-cultural influences, emanating particularly from the Punjab and NWFP. The district remained a site of a resurgent current of reformist religious impulse, Punjab being its epicentre. Khudai Khidmatgar introduced a modern style of agitational and democratic politics among Muslims of NWFP, predominantly Pushtun. In NWFP the ethnic, religious and political identities intersected and reinforced each other. This tripolar relationship had its ambiguities, especially in relating Pushtun ethno-regionalism with Muslim nationalism. By using Islamic symbols of fraternity and love, it built a link between resistance to British rule and a pro-nationalist stance.99 The volunteers of Khudai khidmatgar entered a remote village of Tola Bhangi Khel,100 tehsil Isa Khel of Mianwali District in the year 1931 to mobilize Pushtun tribes for tribal action against the existing power of the state and to dissuade people against serving in the colonial army.101 In their speeches, using religious and anti-colonial rhetoric, the volunteers asserted that British rule in India was oppressive and exploitative, and therefore seeking recruitment into the colonial army was sinful. They called those 880 military men of Bhangi Khel clan who

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had fought against the Ottoman Empire in World War I, including those 400 who had lost their lives, as ‘Be-Iman’ (one without faith).102 To atone for their sins, Muslims were advised to join Khudai Khidmatgars. The speeches were repeatedly punctuated by the shouts of ‘Inqilab Zindabad’ (long live the revolution), ‘Azad Hindustan’, and ‘Nara-e-Takbir’ (God is Great). The sense of dispossession among people was embedded in their sense of the decline of the Indian Muslims and of Islam worldwide, as was evident in the speeches. Such a perspective accorded centrality to religion in their political actions and identity.103 Chris Bayly also observed that a distinctive mark of identity of the nineteenth century’s emerging nationalism was religion. With the intrusion of religion into the socio-political sphere, conflicts became the order of the day.104 Political mobilization along Islamic lines germinated strong anti-British feelings among Muslims in the district. Like Majlis-i-Ahrar, the British government dealt strongly with Khuda-iKhidmatgar and mobilized bureaucratic power and intermediary social groups to suppress the resistance. Commissioner Rawalpindi Division instructed Deputy Commissioner Mianwali, Lala Radha Kishan, P. C. S to instruct the Nawab of Kalabagh, Malik Ameer Muhammad Khan, to visit Tola Bhangi Khel and martialled his Khattak followers against Khudai Khidmatgars.105 Amir Muhammad Khan impressed upon the Pir of Tibbi Sir, who had a substantial following in the surrounding villages of Bor Kui, Mithan Khel-o-Kui, Tor Koi, to use his religious influence. Pir responded to the call of Amir Muhammad Khan and paid a visit to his zail, Bhangi Khel, in order to mobilize the local people against Khudai Khidmatgars. The Pir issued the religious decree that joining Khudai Khidmatgars was sinful, as they were the ally of Congress. The Nawab gathered all the officials, designation holders in the government, the military officers, numbardars, retired officials and pensioners who still had their interests tied up with the colonial government, and made them aware of the dangerous consequences of supporting the Khudai Khidmatgars, which involved the withdrawal of all privileges and benefits including salaries, pensions, and grants of lands in the canal colony districts. A resolution106 was unanimously passed, with signatures and thumb marks of all the officials, who avowedly declared their unflinching loyalty to the British government and virtually condemned the Khuda-i-Khidmatgar, calling its political campaign ‘propaganda’.107 The military pensioners of the British government had established an organization named ‘Anjuman Himayat-e-Birtania’ to express their loyalty to the state. The principal aim of that organization was to counter the activities of Khuda-i-Khidmatgar. The Anjuman submitted their investigative reports to the district administration on a regular basis.108 The government also mobilized the members of the subaltern class, which included sweepers and peons, who spied on their activities.109 The Deputy Commissioner, as a reward for their services, recommended golden certificates for the government officials and intermediaries.110 The centralized control of the colonial state along with the help of loyalist elements, suppressed the movement. The transformation of this region into specialized zone of military recruitment converged with its backwardness.

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Being a remote and barani area, turning it into a recruiting ground foreclosed the possibility of a self-generative route towards economic growth or an alternative viable recourse.111 Hence the military provided not only economic security but also served as mark of elevated status. Almost 3,000 Khuda-i-Khidmatgar and Ahrar volunteers were arrested under Section 38 of the Defense of India Act between 1939 and 1940.112 Gulsher was also one of them, detained in Ferozepur Jail and later shifted to Montgomery jail. After a year and a half of solitary confinement, he was released. On the instructions of Ghulam Ghaus Hazarwi, Gulsher once again started to recruit new volunteers and reorganize the party. Simultaneously he resumed his antirecruitment drive and again courted arrest under the Defence of India Act for another three months.113 Gulsher’s agitational politics and oratory forced the government to bar him from entering Mianwali for the next two years.114 He continued his contact with members of Ahrar in Mianwali and chose Darbatta (near Danda Shah Bilawal), a village on the border of Mianwali and Chakwal, to carry out political activities. These sanctions and courting arrest resulted in a loss of momentum. To rejuvenate the dying movement of Ahrar, the anti-feudal campaign gave it a political fillip. Particularly to its nationalist campaign which was vital to its revitalization during the World War II period.115 Majlis-i-Ahrar’s anti-feudal movement in Kalabagh The sense of being ‘poor’ was entangled with the narrower Islamic identity.116 This singular Islamic identity linked them with the wider network of Islamic identity espoused by Ahrar. This gave them a communal sense of identity. Ahrar with its social and economic agenda had an avowed aim to break down the stranglehold of feudalism. It took advantage of the social and economic disparities caused by World War I. Peasants were the major victims of all these extortions.117 The movement therefore had an appeal for the downtrodden, and successfully mobilized the peasantry and artisan communities against the feudal system.118 The nationalist movement combined with the cause of emanicipation of the marginalized. The Nawab had his political affiliation with the Unionist Party (1923–1947),119 which long dominated the politics of the district. He was granted the status of a provincial durbari and designated Honorary Magistrate for his services to the British Government. This not only exacerbated the vulnerability and dispossession of the poor but sharpened the class differences too.120In the small towns, the government relied on its colonial magnates to contain the local disputes and village factions. The Nawab’s exploitation emanated from the power and control he exercised over resources, as well as his connections with the local authorities who controlled the mobility of wealth in general.121 Local taxation struck more directly and extensively on the economic activities, housing, and settlement patterns of the poor. They developed oppositional feelings against the Nawab, particularly averse to the transformation of customary dues into landlord rights. Economic deprivation and social marginalization forced the

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peasants and artisans to fight against these disparities. Poverty and weak organization had prevented them from questioning the authority of elite. Ahrar provided them a platform to express their grievances, often in defiance of rural and administrative elite. Such an initiative involved risking being declared illegal by the colonial authorities.122 Sumit Sarkar maintains that the ‘upper class gentry exploitation was considered by the poor to be the nearer enemy than the distant British overlord’.123 There were examples in the first quarter of the twentieth century when peasant struggles were used by political parties. To redress peasants’ grievances and to gather their support for the nationalist cause, Congress mobilized the peasantry. David Hardiman has discussed this in depth in his work on the peasants’ nationalist movement in Kheda District.124 From the 1930s, Communists also mobilized peasants through the Kisan Sabha organization.125 The movement aimed to secure the basic human rights of artisans and peasants and to empower the common man with civic and legal rights to fight British colonialism.126 Gyan Pandey in his pioneering study suggested how in Uttar Pradesh the nationalist campaign and the peasant movement complemented each other.127 Gulsher started a mass-contact campaign in September 1942 to mobilize the working classes and to persuade them to strictly follow the aims and objectives of Ahrar. The volunteers of Majlis-i-Ahrar assembled in the mosque after Friday prayers to protest against the high-handedness of the Nawab. Its report was published in the Weekly Afzal with the title ‘Majlis-i-Ahrar Kalabagh kay jalsey, Nawab Kalabagh Kay Khilaf Ihtijaj’.128 Sufi Abdur Raheem, President of the local branch of Ahrar, presented a resolution registering a protest against the illegal (forced) taxes and cesses, and the humiliation and violence perpetrated against the Ahrar volunteers. In the resolution, the Nawab’s actions were strongly condemned. Ahrar demanded from the local administration some necessary accessories like wheat, sugar, and kerosene oil at the subsidized rates, and that separate food depots should be opened for men and women.129 Anyone from Ahrar who tried to take up the matter of the illegal taxes and cesses imposed by the Nawab was threatened with death. . Ghulam Qadir, Captain Jaish-e-Ahrar Kalabagh, was critically injured in an assassination attempt. A very important dimension of this peasant-Artisan movement was solidarity along Islamic lines cutting across ethnic divisions among the rural poor, whose poverty gave them a sense of religious identity and a certain sense of social cohesion.130 The community solidarity was best manifested when many Ahrar volunteers including peasants and artisans were arrested and their houses were ransacked; picketing was set up on the shops and houses of Ahrar volunteers and deprived them of basic needs.131 They had no appellate authority to resort to. The burden was so excessive that almost half of the income of artisans and peasants was siphoned off in the form of levies. Ahrar’s call to the working class to contribute to the funds of mosques and madaris received an overwhelming response, irrespective of its consequences. The response to Ahrar’s call to civil disobedience, to not pay taxes to the Nawab, invited coercive measures from the local administration, as it was considered a defiance of authority.132

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When the Ahrar delegation reported to the Deputy Commissioner about the repressive measures, he refused to intervene.133 Hence civil bureaucracy and state police along with the Nawab’s men tried to prevent political activity by the mass courting of arrests. The district magistrate did not allow Ghulam Muhammad Hashmi, the secretary Majlis-i-Ahrar Mianwali, to speak at public meeting and later he was arrested under the Defence of India Act. The situation became intense, and the working committee of Majlis-i-Ahrar called off its anti-recruitment campaign in the town in December 1942 due to insufficient resources, the continued detention of its leaders and an overall decline in its strength. One major reason for the restrictions imposed on Ahrar was this anti-feudal movement. Despite these impediments, Ahrar’s new branches were opened in various districts of the Punjab, including Attock, Talagang, MalhoWali, Kalabagh, IsaKhel, Shahpur, Sargodha, Jhelum Chakwal and Mianwali.134 In these hostile circumstances the responsibility to oversee the affairs of the movement in Kalabagh was delegated to Mazhar Ali Azhar, the General Secretary Majlis-i-Ahrar and Ghulam Ghaus Hazarvi.135 The district administration strictly monitored people who had any affiliation with Ahrar or extended any support to them. Shorish Kashmiri narrated the tense situation in Mianwali: ‘I visited a tehsil of Mianwali District with Atta Ullah Shah Bukhari; none of the Muslims could accommodate us for a single night. One of the Hindus who dared to be our host was intimidated so much that he was forced to leave the village and later his house was set on fire’.136 It was decided to launch the Kalabagh movement at the provincial level, and celebrated ‘Yaum-i-Kalabagh’ (kalabagh day) in the Punjab and NWFP by the Central Majlis-i-Amla, on October 29, 1943 as a gesture of solidarity with the oppressed Ahrar volunteers.137 Various resolutions were passed at Jamia Masjid Lohari Mandi, Sheranwala Bagh Lahore and Oonchi Masjid Mozang. The Weekly Afzal, in a special edition, included an article titled ‘Kalabagh’, condemning the repressive policies of the Nawab.138 Seeing a strong challenge being mounted to the authority of the Nawab, massive arrests were made of the pro-Ahrar elements. It is needless to reiterate that the authorities were not willing to redress their grievances. Such a situation left hardly any choice for the leading members of Ahrar but to migrate from Kalabagh. They tried to organize themselves in various districts of the Punjab and NWFP. Before the Central Majlis-e-Amla could carry out its activities, Ahrar was banned in Kalabagh in December 1943 for three months.139 The intermittent banning of Ahrar between 1943 and 1946 had weakened it quite considerably. In early 1944, Ahrar’s anti-Imperialist campaign gathered steam, and with that resistance became intense. On the night of May 24, 1944 the pivotal leader of Ahrar Gulsher was killed by the Nawab’s men.140 Ahrar’s religious leadership turned the agitation into a serious ideological challenge to British authority. Ahrar’s religious leadership turned the agitation into a serious ideological challenge to British authority. Muslims were integrated as a distinct religious community, based on their commitment to Islam, expressed through public agitation.141 Ahrar’s politics gave a jolt to the landed elite in Punjab and

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the Unionist party which resulted in the development of a platform for later Muslim League politics. The Unionist party established under the patronage of the British government long dominated the politics in the district. The greatest challenge to the unionist party’s rural power came from Majlis-i-Ahrar, with its social and economic agenda enshrined in breaking down the stronghold of feudalism. World War II not only hastened the British withdrawal from India but also exalted the League’s political status in all-India politics.142 Jinnah encouraged the resumption of official League activities in the rural areas and the Muslim League began to set up primary League branches in the countryside. Within a year Tiwana’s Khattar opponents joined the Muslim League and with this the leading landlords and Pirs followed them.143 In Mianwali the Muslim League emerged on the political scene not earlier than 1943.144 The League was still in its infancy and trying to establish an effective organizational base in the district at the time of the 1946 elections. Abdul Sattar khan Niazi, the President of the Muslim Students Federation, played an instrumental role in establishing the League in Mianwali. A primary branch of the League was set up in Kalabagh, and the Nawab tried to take advantage of his old friendship with Niazi and used the League’s support in countering Ahrar. The League’s support to Nawab was perceived as an utter contravention to the manifesto of the League and Jinnah’s ideology of Pakistan. The Weekly Afzal wrote in its special edition “The justice of the Muslim League was defined as the destruction of the poor and marginalized and support for oppression by the powerful.”145 The Nawab was the first member of the Unionist party from Mianwali who deserted the Unionists and joined the Muslim League.146 Despite the League’s religious appeals to the rural masses, the League still stood dissociated from the power structure. But the landlords and Pir’s ingress into the League changed this scenario. Islamic propaganda helped link the secular leadership of the League with the landlords and Pirs of the Punjab and kindled religious sentiments.147

Conclusion The process of economic development under the British prioritized merchants and Hindu moneylenders over the Muslim peasantry. Colonial economic policies changed the existing relations of production in such a way that it led to an expansion of indigenous mercantile interests. A group of Punjabi moneylenders received their share from the colonial appropriation of rural surplus.148 Dominance was articulated in two ways. It stood, on the one hand, for the British government’s power to rule over people, and on the other, for the power exerted by the indigenous elite over the dispossessed.149 It was in this condition of extreme social disability coupled with economic wretchedness that this most exploited section of society emerged as a uniform social entity.150 That situation provided a context to the emergence of Majlis-i-Ahrar in the district. The movement led by Ahrar questioned the existing social and economic pattern of

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dominance and also the colonial state by ideologically constructed religious community identities, which developed during the inter-war period, within the context of changing political and social processes. Ahrar generated this awareness and power to resist oppression by using Islamic symbols. That, as it became clear later on, proved to be a perfect recipe for the exacerbation of communal tendencies. Ahrar’s use of religious and nationalist rhetoric led to the development of a Muslim ethno-religious identity which sustained nationalism and resulted in communal politics; as Smith maintains, lower class Islam emerged from the reforms ‘purer’ but communalist.151 Ahrar’s initiative to ameliorate the plight of the peasantry had little success. Eventual success came to those who were privileged, and their superiority was perpetuated through the support of the colonial state; however the majority ethno-religious Muslim community resisted the commercial control of the Hindu ethno-religious community. The majority community defined itself as a nation, and as a result the dominant nationalist discourse drew up notions of ethno-religious majoritarianism and minoritarianism. Shifts in religious and social alignment posed serious threats to the old bases of social power of the colonial state and its elites. Speaking in a moralistic and Islamic language, religion has been drawn upon to express material issues in times of rural social, political and economic stress; therefore the protest embraced religious rhetoric.152 Ahrar emphasized religious identities and stirred religious passions in the Muslim community which became a great driving force. People turned to his reformist message of Muslim revitalization. His appeal to Muslims to be united in the defence of their religion and observance of singular centrality to religious rituals forged a distinctive Muslim identity. The Deobandi ulema and other Sufistic figures like the Barelwis and Bugwis, and all denominations, converged on one point to establish a singular unified Islamic community against British imperialism and its intermediaries. Towards the middle of the twentieth century, reformist sharia Islam became a dominant and effective instrument in political mobilization and constructing a universal Islamic community (Ummah) to fight for unitary nationalism (freedom from British rule). The idea of a separate state based on singular Muslim identity was gaining traction. The Muslim League’s modern religious ideology related to Islam as the cultural foundation of the state’s authority, which was supported by Barelwi Mashaikh, Pirs and sajjada nashins who earlier supported the Unionist party. The ulema of all religious articulations defined a commitment to shariat as a commitment to the Muslim community. As the struggle over the general elections of 1945–1946 intensified, Barelwi Sufis martialled their disciples through the Pir-mureed network in the favour of the Muslim League, which was crucial in winning the election. The Pakistan movement was based on the principles derived from classical Islam. The Ummat-i-Islamiya or Muslim community was established on the idea of Tauheed, the unity of God.153 The Barelwi Sufis and their association the Ahle-Sunnat Wal Jamaat with their reformist orientations were closer to the Muslim League’s political ideals, transcending local communities and linking themselves and rural

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society to the broader Islamic community that became central to the Pakistan movement. The Barelwi Sufis, by supporting the League’s ideology, used their local influence in democratic politics to demand an Islamic state.

Notes 1 Majlis-i-Ahrar was founded in 1929 in Lahore, and was ideologically influenced by socialist ideals and formulated on an egalitarian basis, reconciling the Islamic reformist message with radical anti-British and anti-capitalist rhetoric. It came to be an activist body of lower and middle class Punjabi Muslims. The Ahrar leaders came from all sectarian denominations but its central leadership belonged to the Deobandi denomination whose nationalist exposition drew them closer to Congress; however in their political activism, which was a blend of religion and politics, the Ahrar were professedly anti-colonial and anti-feudal. It mainly grew among men who were dissident Punjabi section of khilafatists, influenced by Maulana Abul Kalam Azad. The Working Committee of Ahrar approved its party’s red-coloured flag with a white crescent and a star in the middle. See Tahir Kamran, ‘Majlis-iAhrar-i-Islam: Religion, Socialism and Agitation in Action’, Journal of South Asian History and Culture (2013), 2. Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Modern Islam in India: A Social Analysis (Delhi: Usha Publications, 1985), 260. Also see Samina Awan, Political Islam in Colonial Punjab, Majlis-i-Ahrar 1929–1949 (London: Oxford University Press, 2010), 79. 2 Bryan Turner, Religion and Social Theory, 2nd edn (London: Sage Publications, 1991), xxi. 3 Kenneth W. Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements, 209. Religious nationalism developed on a previous construction of religious community and not based on the concept of two nation theory. Religious nationalism of the nineteenth and twentieth century built on forms of religious identity produced in religious institutions that were in a constant process of transformation during the colonial and post-colonial period. See Vander Veer, Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1994), 24. Juergensmeyer believes that religious nationalism was one way of reconciling traditional religious and modern politics. See Mark Juergensmeyer, Religious Nationalism Confronts the Secular State (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996), 191. Also see Veer, Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India, 58. 4 David Gilmartin and Bruce B. Lawrence, Beyond Turk and Hindu: Rethinking Religious Identities in Islamicate South Asia (Gainesville, FL: University Press Florida, 2000), 34. 5 The term ‘socio’ implies an attempt to reorder society in the areas of social behaviour, custom, structure and control. The term ‘religious’ refers to the authority used to legitimize a given ideology. The authority is based on scriptures. Socio-religious movements called for the creation of an egalitarian society and modifications in social behaviour, rejected the role of priests and the rituals they conducted, and promoted the concept of monotheism. See Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India, 2, 14. 6 Harnik Deol, Religion and Nationalism in India: The Case of the Punjab (London: Routledge, 2000), 21. The Nation and its Fragments: Colonial and Post-Colonial Histories (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993); Mushirul Hassan, Nationalism and Communal Politics in India, 1885–1930 (Delhi: Manohar Publications, 1994) 7 Up to 1945, nation formation and the emergence of nation-states had mostly taken place in four ways. There was first what Benedict Andersen has called

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Reformist Islam and the politics of nationalism ‘creole’ or settler nationalism of the New World, where language was not the differentia specifica of nation-state formation. Benedict Andersen, Imagined Communities (London: Verso, 1983). Then came the linguistic-based territorial nationalism of western and eastern Europe. Then came anti-colonial nationalism. Nations were connected with self-conscious nationalist movements. See. Achin Vanaik, Communalism Contested: Religion, Modernity and Secularization (New Delhi:Vistaar Publications, 1997) For a detailed analysis of nationalism, see Anil Seal, The Emergence of Indian Nationalism: Competition and Collaboration in the Later Nineteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971). Gellner sees nationalism as an entirely common-sense way of thinking. Crucial is the way in which the secular nation-state is presented as a sign of modernity. See Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, 2nd edn (New York: Cornell University Press, 1983); Nationalism (New York: New York University Press, 1997). Also see E. J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality, 2nd edn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). Communalism, defined as ideology which emphasizes as the social, political and economic unit the group of adherents of each religion and stresses differences and even antagonism between groups. See Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Modern Islam in India: A Social Analysis (Lahore: Minerva Book Shop, 1943), 186. Bipan Chandra defines communalism as a belief that because a group of people follows a particular religion, it has as a result common social, political and economic interests. There is a vast body of literature on the subject of communalism. For some of this scholarship see M. Hasan, ed., Communal and Pan-lslamic Trends in Colonial India (Delhi: Manohar Publications, 1981); Bipan Chandra, Communalism in Modern India (Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1984); Sandria Freitag, Collective Action and Community: Public Arenas and the Emergence of Communalism in North India (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1989); K. N. Panikkar, ed., Communalism in India: History, Politics and Culture (Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 1991); Pandey, The Construction of Communalism; Chatterji, Bengal Divided; Veer, Religious Nationalism. For an excellent critique of the literature on communalism see R. O’Hanlon, ‘Historical Approaches to Communalism: Perspectives from Western India’, in Society and Ideology, Essays in South Asian History, P. Robb, ed. (Delhi, New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 247–66. Bob Vander Linden, Moral Languages from Colonial Punjab: The Singh Sabha, Arya Samaj and Ahmediyas (New Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 2008), 186. Also see Gyanandra Pandey, The Construction of Communalism in Colonial North India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1990), 260. Secular nationalism and communalism were both declared as ‘derivative discourse’ by Partha Chaterjee, as they gave an expression to basic difference of indigenous community, in a language comprehensible to the West. See Partha Chaterjee, Nationalist Thought and the Colonial World: A Derivative Discourse (London: Zed Books, 1993), 15. In the nineteenth century the reformist Islam was propagated with modern forms of communications. Religious belief and practice began to take place within the context of the assertion of identity as a distinct religious community. In the colonial world Muslim discourse about religion came to be identified with the discourse of the nation-state, on the premise that Hindus and Muslims formed two separate nations. See Veer, Religious Nationalism, 62. Pandey, The Construction of Communalism, 260 Public debates and printed tracts, pamphlets, journals, and books exacerbated the controversies and provided a form of entertainment to those who attended these verbal and literary contests. A strong sense of group identity gave rise to communalism that rested on a primary loyalty to the religiously defined community. Communalism served as a foundation for religious nationalism. See

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Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements, 219–20. Also see Peter Heehs, (Reviewed work (s)) ‘Bengali Religious Nationalism and Communalism’, International Journal of Hindu Studies 1, No. 1 (1997). The Gazeteer Mianwali District 1915 (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel, 2008), 139. Awans settled in Kalabagh three centuries ago, and gradually acquired land and founded villages. Azam Khan Awan was head of Kalabagh when Sikhs annexed the district in 1822; Malik Allah Yar Khan was the chief and made responsible for the revenue and had to give annual tribute to Maharaja. In the Second Sikh War he did useful service to Edwardes. His son Malik Muzaffar served in the army. He was succeeded by his brother Yar Muhammad Khan as Honorary Magistrate, succeeded by his son Ata Muhammad Khan, and the title of Khan Bahadur was conferred upon him by British government in 1911. He also acceded to his father’s seat as a Provincial durbari and as an Honorary Magistrate. Ata Muhammad Khan extended great help to the British in men and materials during World War I. After his death in 1921, he was succeeded by his son Amir Muhammad Khan, on his return from England in 1929. See Charles Francis Messy, Chiefs and Families of Note in the Punjab (Allahabad: Pioneer Press, 1890). Ibid. C. A. Bayly, ‘Local Control in Indian Towns: The Case of Allahabad 1880–1920’, Modern Asian Studies 5, No. 4 (1971), 293. David Hardiman, Peasant Nationalists of Gujarat: Kheda District: 1917–1934 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), 7. Jaanbaz Mirza, Karwan-e-Ahrar, Vol. 5 (Lahore: Maktaba-e-Tabsara, 1981), 429–30. Pandey, Peasant Revolt and Indian Nationalism, 159. Ibid. Muhammad Umar Farooq, Maulana Muhammad Gulsher (Multan: Bukhari Academy, 1992), 167. Amir Abdullah Rokhri, Main aur Mera Pakistan, 78. Chris Bayly, Rulers, Townsmen and Bazars, 473. Ibid., 97 2nd Settlement Report 1908, Mianwali District, 13. See also Government of the Punjab, Department of Revenue and Agriculture Proceedings, February 1903. Assessment Report 1932, Mianwali District, 18. Farooq, Maulana Muhammad Gulsher, 61. Bayly, Rulers, Townsmen and Bazars, 489. Gulsher was born into an Awan family of a small town, Malhowali, tehsil Pindi Gheb, District Attock. He received his early education from a madrasa in a neighbouring town, Nilhad. After completing dars-e-Quran and reading primary books in Persian, his mentor Hafiz Mian Muhammad referred him to Maulana Fateh Muhammad at madrasa Mehwara, tehsil Fateh Jung, from where he went to madrassa Ishat-ul-Ulum in Chakwal for a short time and then moved to Chappar Skesar Valley, district Khushab, where he studied with maulana Inayat Ullah Chishti. From there he went to Mufti Ghulam Rabbani at Bhoi Gar (district Attock) and then to Qazi Ahmed Din at Jasial (tehsil Talagang) to study Hadith. After a year he went to Maulana Imam Ghazali, a graduate of Deoband and a pupil of Mualana Mehmud-ul-Hassan and completed his daura-e-Hadith. In 1925, he went to Bombay, taught as imam in a mosque of east Khandes’s tehsil Jamunir, and formally started tabligh in the surrounding areas. See, Letters of Maulana Inayat Ullah Chishti, Chakrala, District Mianwali, 13, March 1990, Letters of Raja Nur Muhammad Nizami, Bhoi Gar, district Attok, June 22, 1988, Maulana Gulsher, unpublished personal diaries. Also see Farooq, Maulana Muhammad Gulsher, 55, 345. Ibid., 128.

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31 Gail Minault, ‘Some Reflections on Islamic Revivalism vs Assimilation among Muslims in India, Contributions to Indian Sociology’, in The Politics of the Urban Poor in Early Twentieth-Century India (London: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 244. 32 Kamran, ‘Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam: Religion, Socialism and Agitation in Action’, 2. Also see Awan, Political Islam in Colonial Punjab, 79. 33 Mridula Mukharjee, Peasant Resistance and Peasant Consciousnes, 211. See Moplah Revolt, Faraizi Movement, which combined the features of religious devotion with social protest. 34 Ranajit Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency in Colonial India (London: Duke University Press, 1999), 139. 35 Gooptu, The Politics of Urban Poor, 14–17. 36 Sandria B. Freitag, Collective Action and Community: Public Arenas and the Emergence of Communalism in North India (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1989), 198. 37 Gulsher took bai’at with Khawaja Ahmed Mervi (Attock) and after his death, he renewed initiation at the hands of Hussain Ahmed Madani. received his initial religious training and daura-e-Hadith from Maulana Imam Ghazali, a graduate of Deoband and a pupil of Mualana Mehmud-ul-Hassan. After completing his education, he established madrasa Talim-ul-Quran and madrasa Miftah-ul-Ulum along with the construction of three mosques, considered a nucleus of Islam. See Farooq, Maulana Gulsher, 68. 38 Deol, Religion and Nationalism in India, 54. 39 William R. Pinch, Peasants and Monks in British India (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1996), 105. 40 Allama Mashriqi, the founder of the Khaksar movement, was born in 1888 in Amritsar. He quit government service in the stormy days of 1919 and started participating in politics. He wanted to bring an inter-communal unity to dismantle British rule. He pioneered a movement against mullahism. 41 The prominent members were Maulana Fakhr-uz-Zaman Chishti (KotChandana), Sahibzada Nur-ud-Din Chishti (Tarag Sharif), Sufi Allahdad Khan (Rais Isa Khel) Maulana Ilm-ud-Din Deobandi (khateeb Jamia masjid), Maulana Zain-ud-Din Chishti (Sajjada nashin Tarag Sharif), and Maulana Zahur Ahmed Bugvi (Bhera). See Maulana Abdur Rehman Mianvi, ‘Shandar Ijtima aur Amli Muzahira’, in Mahnama Shams-ul-Islam (Bhera: Majlis-e-Markazia Hizb-ul-Ansar, 1938), 44. 42 Fortnightly Zia-ul-Islam (Amritsar: May 22, 1939), 11. 43 Muhammad Khan (Mianwali) as the president, Sufi Allahdad Khan (landed aristocrat from Isa Khel tehsil), Sufi Abdul Raheem Maskeen (Musa Khel), Ahmed Khan (Moch), Pir Muhammad Shah (Mawazwala), Mian Ghulam Muhammad (Thathi), and Sheikh Ata-ur-Rehman (Bori Khel) were the members. The aims of the organization were: 1) to uplift society morally and eliminate false rituals and practices and to shun extravagance; 2) to provide a permanent source of funding to provide poor peasants interest free loans; 3) to protect Muslims from litigation and false legal cases registered against them by Hindu moneylenders; 4) to devise a plan for the economic alleviation and progress of Muslims. See Muhammad Ramazan, Mianwali District (Mianwali: Muslim Bazaar Publisher, 1985), 35. 44 Ibid., 47. 45 Farooq, Maulana Muhammad Gulsher, 116. 46 Gooptu, The Politics of the Urban Poor in Early Twentieth-Century India, 186. 47 On hearing this, one Hindu shopkeeper came to him and confessed ‘I used different scales for sale and purchase. While purchasing I used big scale and for sale I used small scale. I promise you, I will use the same scale from now onwards. I

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48 49 50 51

52

53

54

55 56 57

58 59 60 61 62

63 64 65 66 67

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wish to embrace Islam but I am tied down in restrictions imposed from society and my biradari’’.See Farooq, Maulana Gulsher, 59. Ibid., 106. Letters of Syed Hayat Khan Rokhri, District Mianwali, June, 5 1989. Also see Francis Robinson, ‘Religious Change and the Self in Muslim South Asia Since 1800’, Journal of South Asia 20, No. 1 (1997), 1–15. Nicholas B. Dirks, ‘Ritual and Resistance: Subversion as a Social Fact’, CSST Working Papers, University of Michigan, 1988, 13. Also see William Gould, Hindu Nationalism and the Language of Politics in Late Colonial India (London: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 274. Also see C. A. Bayly, ‘The Pre-History of “Communalism”?: Religious Conflict in India, 1700–1860’, Modern Asian Studies 19, No. 2 (1985). The sanctity of the cow’s body and the prohibition against killing her and eating her flesh is made real for Hindus in crucial ritual performances that communicate a great variety of cosmological constructs. These constructs mainly concern images of femininity and the female body. In Brahmanical theology, the cow was the symbol of the earth (nourisher) and Lakshmi (the goddess of wealth). See Veer, Religious Nationalism: Hindus and Muslims in India, 86–7. In 1881, the northwestern Provincial High Court at Allahabad made clear that the cow was not a sacred object and was not protected by the colonial state. Arya Samajis described both Muslims and Europeans as barbarian cow eaters. See Linden, Moral Languages from Colonial Punjab, 185. Islamic reformers intended to remove accretions from Islam which had been borrowed from Hinduism and condemn them by preaching the fundamentals of Islam; the religion that took shape as a result was essentially communalist in nature. See Smith, Modern Islam in India: A Social Analysis (Delhi: Usha Publications, 1985), 189. Veer, Religious Nationalism, 12–24. Nicholas. B. Dirks, Ritual and Resistance: Subversion as a Social Fact, CSST Working papers, University of Michigan, 1988, 13. William Gould, Hindu Nationalism and the Language of Politics in Late Colonial India (London: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 274; C. A. Bayly, ‘The Pre-history of “Communalism”?: Religious Conflict in India, 1700–1860’, Modern Asian Studies 19, 2 (1985). Interview Haji Sh. Abdul Kareem, Talagang, February 16, 1985 Dipesh Chakrabarty, Rethinking Working-Class History: Bengal 1890–1940 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 215. Ibid. Eric Stokes, The Peasant and the Raj: Studies in Agrarian Society and Peasant Rebellion in Colonial India (London: Cambridge University Press, 1978). The patriarchal power (authority and protection) exercised over female bodies was one of the key elements of the nation-state. Veiling (purdah) became the sign of a society ordered by Islam. Purdah exists among both Muslims and Hindus in South Asia but operates entirely differently between them. Purdah in the Muslim case means seclusion from the public sphere; it is closely bound up with the status of the family, which Hindu purdah is not. The seclusion of women is a mark of status for a family. See Veer, Religious Nationalism, 99–101. Farooq, Muhammad Gulsher, 78. Ibid. Gooptu, Politics of the Urban Poor in Early Twentieth-Century, 196. Bayly, ‘Local Roots of Indian Politics: Allahabad, 1880–1920’, 218. Jan Lundius and Mats Lundahl, Peasants and Religion: A Socio-Economic Study of Dios Olivorio and the Palma Sola Movement in the Dominican Republic (London: Routledge, 2000), 2.

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68 Smith, Modern Islam in India, 272. 69 Khudai Khidmatgar emerged in the 1920s as a political force from the experience of the Khilafat and Hijrat campaign of early 1920. The earliest volunteers of Khudai Khidmatgar developed their nexus with Pan-Islamist and reformist elements, the later were driven by the reform movement of Haji Sahib of Turangzai. Ghaffar Khan built a link between resistance to British rule and a pro-nationalist stance. See Wiqar Ali Shah, Ethnicity, Islam and Nationalism: Muslim Politics in North West Frontier Province 1937–1947 (London: Oxford University Press, 1999), xxxiv. Also see Stephen Hay, Tariq Modood and Judith Squires, Ethnicity, Nationalism and Minority Rights (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 4. For a detailed study of Khadai Khidmatgar, see S. A. Rittenberg, Ehnicity, Nationalism and Pukhtuns: The Independence Movement in India’s North-West Frontier Province 1901–1947 (Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 1988), 6. 70 See, Freitag, Collective Action and Community, 282. 71 Awan, Political Islam in the Colonial Punjab, 62. 72 In the aftermath of 1857, the British introduced in Punjab a policy of demilitarization and extensive economic and agricultural reforms within ten years of its annexation. The British shifted recruitment towards Punjab as a result of the loyalty it extended to the British government. The popular belief in the nineteenth century among the British soldiers was that ‘certain clans and classes can bear arms, are martial castes, the others have not the physical courage and skills necessary for the warriors’,, called ‘Martial Race Ideology’. See Tan Tai Yong, The Garrison State (New Delhi: Sage Publications, 2005), 19–20. Also see Ian Talbot, Punjab and Raj (Delhi: Manohar Publication, 1988), 42. British India’s uneasy relationship with its western neighbour Afghanistan was now complicated by suspicions of Russian intentions to extend their imperialist designs into India. The British military authorities in India became obsessed with the ‘Great Game’ with Russia and were no longer content to maintain the army in India merely as an internal policing force, but aimed to stop any Russian drive towards the warm waters of the Indian Ocean. See David Omisi, The Sepoy and the Raj: The Indian Army 1860–1940 (London: The Macmillan Press, 1994), 6. Also see Yong, The Garrison State, 74; and Ayesha Siddiqa, Military Inc.: Inside Pakistan’s Military Economy (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2007), 59–60. 73 Hassan Askari Rizvi, The Military and Politics in Pakistan (1947–1970) (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publications, 1998), 28. 74 Among them the Assistant Recruiting Officer of the district was ‘Khan Saifullah Khan’. The most prominent among non-official recruiters were Khan Sahib Malik Laddhu, Khan Sahib Malik Ameer with his son Risaldar Malik Muzaffar Khan, Malik Muhammad Qasim of Chakrala and Khan Bahadur Abdul Karim Khan of Isakhel, Malik Zaman Mehdi Khan, Sub-Divisional Officer, and his brother Malik Sultan Mehmud Khan, as Tehsildar had been a support to the administration. See D. J. Boyd, Esquire, ICS, Record of the War Services of Mianwali District (1914–19) (Lahore: Civil and Military Gazette Press, 1922), 14. 75 Saadia Sumbal, ‘Defending the Empire: Analyzing Military Recruitment in Colonial Mianwali’, The Historian 8, No. 1 (2010) Also see Boyd, Record of the War Services of Mianwali District, 7. 76 Farooq, Muhammad Gulsher, 98. 77 Deol, Religion and Nationalism in India, 52. 78 See the resolution of the working committee meeting, Amritsar, 11 September 1939, in Farooq, Azadi ki Inqilabi Tehreek (Lahore: Maktaba-e-Ahrar, 2000), 101. 79 Umer, Muhammad Gulsher, 167. 80 The Ahrar Leader’s statement at the Mianwali Ahrar Political Conference on 15–30 August 1939, in Mirza, Karwan-i-Ahrar, 4, 163.

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81 Maulana Habib-ur-Rehman, in his initial statement against the recruitment policy of the Unionist Government, referred to verses from the Holy Quran, which made it unlawful for a Muslim to fight against a fellow Muslim. He gave the example of Palestine, which housed the first Muslim Holy Mosque and which had been handed over to the Jews by the British. 82 Gooptu, The Politics of the Urban Poor, 278. 83 Ibid. 84 Monthly Urdu Digest (Lahore: August 2006), 200. 85 This conference was held in the mosque of Malik Jung Bahadur, Letters of Malik Ghulam Muhammad Ghaiba, Islamabad, January 3, 1993. 86 Farooq, Muhammad Gulsher, 178. 87 After his speech, leading politicians and religious people such as Sufi Allahdad Khan (Isa Khel), Sher Bahadur (Kalur Kot), Sufi Sher Muhammad Zargar (Mianwali) and Ghulam Muhammad Hashmi (Rokhri) also joined Majlis-iAhrar. See Hafiz Muhammad Hassan, unpublished diary, Gulsher Academy Talagang, District Chakwal. 88 Hakumat-e-Ilahiya had its conceptual basis in unequivocal opposition to the British Raj. For Hakumat-e-Ilahiyah and its conceptual exposition, see Mazhar Ali Azhar, Humarey Firkawarana Faysaley Ka Istadraj, 244–7. Also see Kamran, ‘Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam: Religion, Socialism and Agitation in Action’, 4; Shorish Kashmiri, ‘Pas-e-Deewar-e-Zindaan’, Chitaan (Lahore, 1971), 227. 89 Farooq, Muhammad Gulsher, 124. 90 Ibid., 13. 91 Smith, Modern Islam in India, 261. 92 Deol, Religion and Nationalism in India, 27. 93 Sudipta Kaviraj, The Imaginary Institution of India: Politics and Ideas (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010), 142. 94 Juergensmeyer, Religions as Social Vision, 52 95 Interview, Maulana Muhammad Baazgul, Malho Wali, District Attok, December 24, 1989. A few years back, when Hussain Ahmed Madani visited Mianwali, Maulana Gulsher asked his workers to boycott his address due to JUH’s alliance with Congress. Local Congress leaders arranged his stay in Sanatan Dharam High School. Maulana Abdullah, sajjada nashin of Khanqah Sirajia instructed a local leader of Ahrar to make an arrangement for Maulana Madni at Sufi Sher Muhammad Zargar’s (Ahrar leader) home and Maulana Abdullah would bear all the expenditures. 96 Maulana Abdul Haq, Maulana Naa’fi Gul Kaka Khel, Maulana Daud Ghaznavi (President of Congress, Punjab) and Maulana Qazi Shams-ud-Din were present there. Madni’s speech was on ‘conspiracies of the West against the Islamic world’. 97 Habib-ur-Rehman Khan Qabli, Hayat-e-Syed Atta Ullah Shah Bukhari (Lahore: Ahrar Foundation, 2003), 52–3. 98 An Intellegence Report of Ahrar Movement in the Punjab 1931–38, File No. LXI/32, 426. 99 Wiqar Ali Shah, Ethnicity, Islam and Nationalism: Muslim Politics in North West Frontier Province 1937–1947 (London: Oxford University Press, 1999), xxxiv. 100 Tola Bhangi Khel was a remote town of tehsil Isa Khel, District Mianwali. The majority were Pushtun and Khattaks, serving in the British army. See Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915. 101 Ghaffar Khan collaborating with Haji Turangzai was alarming for the British. Haji of Turangzai, who belonged to the saintly family of Charsadda, advised following sharia. Haji Turangzai led the Hadda mulla line who had anti-British rhetoric. Ghaffar Khan set up the Azad Islamia madrassa and Anjuman-e-Islahul-Afghana, in collaboration with Haji Turangzai at Utmanzai. Utmanzai and Turangzai were Pukhtun Villages, Bannu and Kohat were Districts of NWFP.

102

102 103 104 105

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107 108

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Reformist Islam and the politics of nationalism The aims of Anjuman-i-Islah-ul-Afghana were: 1) eradication of social evils; 2) promotion of unity amongst the Pushtun; 3) prevention of lavish spending on social events; 4) encouragement of Pushtu language and literature; 5) creation of real love for Islam among the pushtuns. See Haroon, Frontier of Faith, 88. On 16 May 1930, British troops ravaged Utmanzai and Takkar, a village in Mardan, and killed people in HathiKhel (Bannu). On 24 August, the British army fired at a protest and 70 were killed as a result. Khilafat and Congress committee in Bannu were actively trying to mobilize Mahsuds and were using local mullas to organize jirgas to discuss the actions of the government with the tribes. These connections showed their potential in 1930, when simultaneous crises across the tribal areas and Peshawar brought the tribes, led by mullas and the NWFP political parties, into active support of one another. See Shah, Ethnicity, Islam and Nationalism, 33. Also see Confidential Letter No. D. O1014/HQ of Commissioner Rawalpindi to Deputy Commissioner Mianwali, Lala Radha Kishan, P. C. S, August 22, 1931. Confidential Weekly Diary, Superintendent of Police, August 1, 1931; also see Confidential Letter No: 1430 / S. B of Chief Secretary, C. C. Garbett, Esquire, to the Deputy Commissioner Mianwali, Simla, August, 13, 1931. Ibid. Bayly, The Birth of Modern World 1780–1914, 336. Confidential Letter No. D. O. 101 of Deputy Commissioner Mianwali District to Malik Ameer Muhammad Khan Kalabagh, August 20, 1931; also see Confidential Letter No 110-C of Deputy Commissioner Mianwali to M. L. Darling, Esquire, I. C. S. Commissioner Rawalpindi Division, August 23, 1931. The terms of the resolution were: 1) We hate the destructive propaganda of the Red Shirts; 2) We all are loyal to the British government and will always remain so; 3) We will try our best to eliminate the slightest impact of Red Shirts and the Congress. Those who signed the resolution were Cap. Ali Khan, Lt. Arsalan Khan, Subedar Major Hikmat Khan, Subedar wazir Khan, Subedar Muazzam Din, Subedar Zonda Khan, Subedar Nur Khan, Jamadar Guleen Khan, Jamadar Ghani Khan, Subedar Sahib Shah Syed, Amir Khan Nambardar, Nawaz Khan Numbardar Bhangi Khel, Niabat Khan Numbardar Afzal Khan Numbardar, Awal Khan Numbardar, Gul Khan Numbardar, Mir Wali Khan Numbardar, Qazi Hakeem Hawaldar[Pensioners], Mehrab khan Sufaid Posh, Sher Shah Sufaid Posh, and Gulfraiz Khan Sufaid posh. See Confidential letter No, D. O. 101. Letter of Amir Muhammad Khan, Nawab of Kalabagh to Rai Bahadur, Deputy Commissioner Mianwali District. A letter of Malik Abdul Rehman Kallur Bahadur, O. B. I (Retired), Risaldar Major and President of Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Birtania to the Deputy Commissioner Mianwali District, October 2, 1931. Also see, Confidential letter of Malik Abdul Rehman Kallur Bahadur, O. B. I. (Retired), Risaldar Major and President of Anjuman-i-Himayat-i-Birtania to the Deputy Commissioner Mianwali District, October 2, 1931, listed the names of Khawanin who supported government in making the Red Shirts’ campaign unsuccessful: 1) Khan Allah Dad Khan; 2) Khan Ghulam Rasul Khan; 3) Khan Wali Dad Khan; 4) Muhammad Hanif Zaildar; 5) Khan Naurang Khan Munciple Commissioner; 6) Jamadar Ghulam Sarwar Pensioner; 7) Ghulam Hassan Khan Isa Khel; 8) Allahdad Khan Lambardar; 9) Chaur Khan Lambardar; 10) Ata Muhammad Khan Pensioner; 11) Amir Abdullah Khan Pensioner; 12) Umer Khan Lambardar; 13) Pir Abdullah Shah Pensioner Mohammad Azam Khan Sub-Inspector Pensioner; 14) Shri Ram; 15) Gopal Das Nakra Municiple Commissioner. Confidential Diary of Tehsildar Isa Khel, AllahDad Khan for the fortnight ending, December 5, 1931. In tehsil, shiv Ram s/oTakiya Ram Batra helped the government in dispelling the influence of the Red Shirts. Gopal Das Nakra,

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111 112

113 114

115

116 117 118 119

120 121 122 123 124

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Bodh Ram Gulali municipal Commissioner, Sant Ram Sachdev, Gurditta Ram, Beli Ram Suchdev, jawan Das Nakra, Amir Chand Batra municipal Commissioner, Head Constable, Abdullah Khan, Mohammad Azam Khan, Jamadar Tehsil Muhammad Hassan, Jaman Khan, Faizullah, and Ata Muhammad all extended their support to the government against the Red Shirts. In a confidential letter from Civil Secretariat Simla 1931, showing Golden Commendation Award list of officers and pensioners who suppressed the Red Shirts’ Movement in Mianwali, the following names were recommended by the Deputy Commissioner of Mianwali District for the Golden Certificate in view of their services. Raja AllahDad Khan Tehsildar, Khan Hamidullah Khan (Sub-Inspector Police), Mehr Ghulam Muhammad Khan, HC Abdullah Khan No. 125, HC Fateh Khan No. 46, Nawab Abdul Karim Khan, Khan Haq Nawaz Khan, Ghulam Qadir Khan, Khan AllahDad Khan, Khan Ghulam Rasul Khan, Ch. Gopal das, Ch. Bodh Raj Shah. Mustapha Kamal Pasha, Colonial Political Economy: Recruitment and underdevelopment in the Punjab (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 1998), 253. According to a report published by Zamzam, a group of members of the Ahrar Working Committee, consisting of Maulana Mazhar Ali Azhar, Syed Atta Ullah Shah Bukhari, Sheikh Hassam-ud Din, Ch. Afzal Haq, Maulana Gulsher and Shorish Kashmiri, was prepared to arrest them. See Zamzam, Lahore, 30 September, 1939. Janbaz Mirza, Karwan-e-Ahrar, 5, 48. May 20–21, 1942, Gulsher spoke at a conference in Burewala, July 13–15, 1942 at Khushab, July17–18, 1942, at Hafizabad, Mazhar Ali Azhar, Hassam-ud-Din and Maulana Muhammad Hayat also attended, 8 August 1942 at Rokhri, July 25–26, 1943 at Gujrat, October 3–14, 1943 at Sindh, October 15–17, 1943 at Multan, October 21, 1943 at Chichwatni, December 4–5, 1943 at Lahore. Also see Weekly Afzal, Saharan, January 15, 1943, 4 For peasant movement, see Ranajit Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency in Colonial India; Sumit Sarkar, Modern India; Eric Stokes, The Peasant and the Raj: Studies in Agrarian Society and Peasant Rebellion in Colonial India; and Chakrabarty, Rethinking Working Class History Bengal 1890–1940. Also see David Hardiman, ‘Peasant Agitations in Kheda District, Gujrat 1917–1934’, PhD dissertation, Sussex University, 1975; Mridula Mukherjee, ‘Peasant Resistance and Peasant Consciousness in Colonial India: Subalterns and Beyond’, Journal of Economic and Political Weekly 23, No. 41 (1988), 118. Chakarabarty, Rethinking Working Class, 214. Pandey, Peasant Revolt and Indian Nationalism, 159 Ibid. For the Unionist Party, see Iftikhar Haider Malik, Sikandar Hayat Khan: A Political Biography (Islamabad: National Institute of Historical and Cultural Research, 1985); Ashique Hussain Batalvi, Iqbal Key Akhri Doo Saal (Lahore: Idara-i- Saqafat-e-Islamia, 1989); Ian Talbot, Punjab and the Raj (Delhi: Manohar, 1988); Azim Husain, Fazal-i-Husain: A Political Biography (New Delhi: Longman Green & Co., 1946); Gilmartin, Empire and Islam. Also see Record of the War Services of Mianwali District, 10. Gooptu, The Politics of the Urban Poor in Early Twentieth Century India, 109. Bayly, ‘Local Control in Indian Towns’; also see The New Cambridge History: Indian Society and the Making of the British Empire (London: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 172. Ranajit Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency, 122. Sumit Sarkar, Modern India 1885–1947 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1989), 59. Hardiman, ‘Peasant Agitations in Kheda District, Gujrat 1917–1934’.

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125 Mukherjee, ‘Peasant Resistance and Peasant Consciousness in Colonial India’,, 118. 126 Maulana Muhammad Siddiq Waliullahi, Personal Diary, 143. 127 Gyan Pandey, ‘Peasant Revolt and Indian Nationalism: The Peasant Movement in Awadh, 1919–1922’, in Selected Subaltern Studies, Ranajit Guha and Gayatri Chakraborty Spivak, eds. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 236. 128 Weekly Afzal (Saharanpur: September 11, 1942); also see Daily Azad (Lahore: August 20, 1946), 2. 129 Farooq, Maulana Gulsher, 167. 130 Chakrabarty, Rethinking Working Class History, 196. 131 Ibid., 6. 132 Farooq, Muhammad Gulsher, 6. 133 Daily Inqalab (Lahore: August 3, 1944), 1. 134 The central office of Ahrar (Mianwali) was at Rokhri. President: Sufi Abd-urRaheem; Vice President: Sh. Atta-ur-Rehman; General Secretary: Sufi Ali Khan Khadim; Joint Secretary: Ghulam Rasul. Members included Sufi Allah Dad, Ghulam Muhammad Hashmi, Dr Ghulam Haider Khan Kalabagh, Nur Muhammad Azad Kalabagh. Preachers included Sufi Ayaz Khan Bori Khel, Sufi Abd-ur-Rahim Musa Khel, Hafiz Rab Nawaz Mebal sharif, Sher Muhammad Zargar, Dr Ghulam Haider KalaBagh. 135 Farooq, Muhammad Gulsher, 256. 136 Shorish Kashmiri, ‘Syed Atta Ullah Shah Bukhari, Biographical Account’, Chitaan (Lahore: May 2004), 98. 137 Mirza, Karwan-i-Ahrar, 5, 429. In December, 1943, the Governor of Punjab informed the Governor General that ‘Ahrar had launched agitation against the Nawab of Kalabagh in Mianwali District. Deputy Commissioner had imposed restriction over Ahrar’s protest meeting in Mianwali and banned its entry in Kalabagh for one month. Ahrar had failed to regain its lost popularity’.. On September 28, 1943, leading members of Ahrar migrated from Kalabagh, which included President Nur Muhammad, Secretary Jaan Muhammad, Vice-President Captain Nur Muhammad, Muhammad Ramazan, Dr Ghulam Qadir, Ghulam Rasul, Fazal Kareem, Abdul Razzaq, Ghulam Hussain, Abdul Hafeez, and Khan Muhammad Piracha. Also see Weekly Afzal, November, 5 1943, 3. 138 Ibid. 139 Mirza, Karwan-i-Ahrar, Vol. 5, 429. 140 Kashmiri, Pas-e Deewar-i-Zindaan, 244. Nawab Khan, the murderer of Maulana Gulsher, belonged to the Gheba family in Pindi Gheb and was a close relative of Malik Amir Muhammad. He confessed in front of Qari Muhammad Yusuf, imam of Darey wali masjid, cited in Monthly Naqeeb-i-Khatm-i-Nabuwat (Multan: Tashkeel-e-Nau Printers, 2007), 41–2. 141 Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 98. 142 Ibid., 186. 143 Talbot, Punjab and Raj, 195. 144 Ibid. 145 Weekly Afzal, November 5, 1944, 3. 146 Liaqat Niazi, Tarikh-e-Mianwali (Lahore: Sang-i-Meel Publishers, 1994), 78. 147 Waseem, Politics and the State in Pakistan, 69. 148 Deol, Religion and Nationalism, 84. 149 Guha, Elementary Aspects of Peasant Insurgency in Colonial India, 174. 150 See Gooptu, Politics of the Urban, 13. Also see Anil Seal, The Emergence of Indian Nationalism: Competition and Collaboration in the Later Nineteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 342. 151 Smith, Modern Islam in India, 189. 152 Pinch, Peasants and Monks in British India, 105. 153 Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 206.

4

Sectarianism and the politics of religious exclusion

The Muslim League mobilized mass support for an independent Pakistan in which religion would play a decisive role in the new state’s political development. The post-colonial state of Pakistan adopted European concepts of sovereignty. The westernized ruling elite resisted giving Islam a central role in national politics and seemed to draw apart from its religious clergy, steeped in tradition.1 By 1949, the political elite had accepted a political role for Islamic forces and identification with Ummah (universal common religious group) in search of a more viable state identity. This chapter examines how ulema in the post-colonial state of Pakistan articulated their religious authority to participate in the national narrative constructed on the idea of a consensual singular Islamic identity and the ways through which they manifested their distinct religious positions into a political position. The idea to spawn and profess a singular Islam faced contrasting reformist religious articulations. In this process of re-identification, the concept of Islam was redefined by excluding all supposedly ‘deviant’ and un-Islamic elements. In the reformulation of this identity, the passage of the Objectives Resolution in 1949 with an exclusionary overtone for local minorities has come to be viewed as the first step that divided Pakistani citizens into ‘Muslim’ and ‘non-Muslim’.2 This chapter argues that, to Islamize the newly founded state of Pakistan and in search of a consensual singular Islamic identity, the takfiri and exclusionary approach of ulema towards each other now shifted its focus to minority religious groups in the process of re-identification, which hardened religious boundaries and sectarian identities. This chapter is divided into three sections. Using hagiographical sources (biographical accounts, malfuzat (Sufi narratives), polemical texts and archival sources), the chapter will explicate in the first section how Sufis and ulema developed a consensus against minority religious groups and religious rhetoric was used to gain political mileage. The ideological predicament of the state around Islam as the basis for national identity entered the anti-Ahmadiyya issue into political domain. The chapter will also scrutinize the belligerence of ulema, representing primarily Majlis-i-Ahrar, Deobandis and Barelwis, with the DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-5

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state, the issue of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat in 1953 and 1974 being the sore point. Khatm-e-Nabuwwat as an instrument of exclusion and a rallying point between various religious articulations also forms the focus of this chapter. The chapter will also unfold how Barelwi ideologues linked the structures of local politics with the broader concept of Islamic community and emphasized the idea of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat as the foundation of the ideology of Pakistan, vital for national integration. In the second section, the chapter will discuss the binary between khanqah and madrasa, how the two provided a locus for the hardening of sectarian ideas. The ulema representing Deobandi and Barelwi khanqahs developed a consensus among themselves on the national narrative, whereas the ideologues of madrasas stoked sectarian conflict. The sectarian differences which had their roots in the colonial period acted as contrary pulls against the religious consensus between ulema, which shows that the transformation to modernity (sharia-oriented Islam) was not complete. The third section explores how the exclusion of Ahmadiyya in the second amendment of 1974 provided grounds to further narrow down the definition of Muslim and non-Muslim, and the same principle of exclusion was applied on the Shia minority in Pakistan, as some Sunnis viewed Shia with grave misgivings. Significantly it established the aggressive Sunni identity which unleashed antiShia vitriol. This led to concomitant calls upon the government to declare Shias, like Ahmadis, a non-Muslim minority. The chapter will also discuss the anti-Shia movement of Maulana Allahyar Chakralwi, a Deobandi ideologue, in the highly charged atmosphere of Shia-Sunni sectarian animosity which has never before been discussed in any academic research in Pakistan. Pakistan as a post-colonial state was confronted with a host of challenges on the eve of its independence, the challenge of the identity formation being the foremost. While the movement for Pakistan’s creation was in full swing, the slogan of Islam was raised ostensibly to mobilize the general Muslim populace. Muhammad Ali Jinnah successfully wooed Deobandi ulema like Shabbir Ahmad Usmani (1889–1949), Maulvi Muhammad Shafi (1897–1976) and Zafar Ahmad Ansari. In 1945 Jamiyat-e-Ulama-e-Islam was also founded in Calcutta which was a pro-Muslim League religious party.3 Immediately before Pakistan came into being, Muhammad Ali Jinnah delivered his policy statement in his speech on the floor of the Constituent Assembly on August 11, 1947.4 However, after Jinnah’s untimely demise, the plural character of the state that he envisaged dissolved into thin air. Relocation of many madrasas and ulema, particularly from East Punjab, changed the overall ambience of the newly founded state. It was in that context that the Objectives Resolution was passed, despite several objections raised by the minority parliamentarians from East Bengal, intertwining and manipulating religion, identity and democracy.5 It later on became the directive principle for the constitution. Justice Munir in his book From Jinnah to Zia contends that, had Jinnah lived longer, the Objectives Resolution would never have passed.6 A few months earlier Majlis-i-Ahrar7 had transformed itself and conjured up into existence Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatam-e-Nubuwwat with a singular

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8

agenda of excluding Ahmadis from the Muslim fold. That development went a long way towards establishing the stronghold of the religious cleric.9 It is important here to state that after the passage of the Objectives Resolution, the constituent assembly of Pakistan formed the Basic Principle’s Committee and established an Islamic Teachings Board, called Talimat-i-Islamia. .10 The powers of the board were limited to advising on matters arising out of the Objectives Resolution.11 The Board had to make recommendations related to the Head of State, the executive in general, and the legislature.12 The most evident illustration of the increased role of the clerics was the 1953 AntiAhmadiyya movement.13 When MTKN’s demands became far too vociferous and its leadership eventually mounted a direct challenge to the state, they were badly crushed through the coercive means of the state. Martial law was promulgated and the insurgency was muzzled.14 However, it would be wrong to infer that MTKN had been nipped in the bud. The role of religion continued to be important, particularly when it came to resolving the question of identity formation. Takfiri fatwa ensued from the ulema, now shifted towards the Shias. The radical Sunnis pressured the government to narrow down the constitutional definition of Muslim further so that the Shias should also be defined as non-Muslims.

Post-partition Mianwali: Study in structural continuity and rupture Mianwali District exhibited distinctly rural features in the post-colonial era. The demographic pattern of the district was significantly changed with the migration of Hindu communities. The migrant Muslims from the Ludhiana and Jullunder (East Punjab) filled in the vacant space in the commercial sphere of Mianwali. Most of the newcomers started working as hawkers and vendors.15 Some of them opened shops and established small businesses. The government initiated mega ventures like digging out canals, the construction of rural link roads, railways, cooperative societies and banks, which generated employment opportunities for the literate residents of the district.16 Under Ayub Khan, development in the agricultural sector was quite considerable. The Chashma barrage and ChashmaJhelum link canal were constructed under the Indus Water Treaty of 1960. The Thal Development Authority (TDA), brought vast swathes of uncultivated land in Thal (the desert area in the south of the district) under cultivation, irrigating the land with canal water.17 New settlements (chakooks) were set up, where colonization began mainly by mahajir settlers who had moved here from old canal colony districts of Lyalpur, Multan and Sahiwal. The rehabilitation of refugees was relatively easier in Mianwali as it involved the allotment of land to them on a permanent and semi-permanent basis. With the developments in agriculture made possible by irrigation through the Thal canal, small agro-based industries and mines were developed which effected a steady rise in commercial activities.18 It was largely the settlement in Thal which transformed the surrounding areas into small commercial towns, connected with roads and railways to the

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urban towns. The rail link between Mari Indus and Bannu and the road link between Mianwali and Bannu had minimized the importance of IsaKhel as a trade centre, and the towns and cities like Bhakar, Darya Khan, Kalabagh, Liaqatabad and Harnoli emerged as new chief centres of trade.19 With the opening of corporate societies and banks, occupational mobility started taking place and people moved towards non-agricultural activities with the development of infrastructure and small industrial towns. The emergence of small traders, bankers and a salaried class became quite noticeable. Indigenous bankers and traders provided entrepreneurial impetus to commercial growth which, so far, had lacked consistency. The obsolete instruments used for agriculture were replaced by modern machinery. But the process of transformation was slow. Therefore the life of the peasantry had seen only some amelioration to say the least. As C. A. Bayly remarks, tiny industrial classes were made up of ‘peasants in disguise’ rather than urban proletariat. New industrial classes had resolutely pre-industrial and agrarian mentalities.20 With a transition having taken place in 1947, it seems worthwhile to shift our focus on the religious landscape of Mianwali. The khanqahs, madaris and mosques dotted the entire district. These religious institutions played a vital role in crystalizing sectarian identities. Mosques and madaris not only have their own exclusivist sectarian affiliation like Deobandi, Barelwi, Ahl-eHadith, Jamat-i-Islami, etc.; many of them were intimately associated with particular sectarian organizations like Jamiyat-e-Ulama-e-Islam and Jamiyate-Ulama-e-Pakistan (the Barelwi group). Initially the madaris had a very rural outlook, sustained by meager economic resources. The madaris were mainly financed by voluntary charity provided by local people who believed it to be an act of magnanimity and piousness. Local landlords did dispense some of their wealth for religious causes in the form of paying Ushr in cash or in kind. Paying Ushr was a reasonable option as those liable to pay Ushr were exempted from taxes on landed property.21 Madrasa adjacent to khanqah relied on two ways of obtaining funds: first, the sajjada nashins depended on the income generated from their own agricultural lands, and second, the donations from the mureed constituency comprising ulema, religious teachers, traders, and the service class. Funding from the mureeds settled in various countries like Saudi Arabia and UAE was also a substantial source.22 Importantly a handful of madrasas received grants from the government. Madrassa Tabligh-ul-Islam and Shams-ul-Ulum Ghausia, affiliated with JUI (Sami-ulHaq) and JUP respectively, received annual grants from the government. The two Barelwi madaris, Jamia Akbaria and Ghausia Naseeria, received an annual grant of Rs. 75,000 and 30,000 respectively from 1965–1968.23 Lack of training of religious teachers and an absence of uniformity of curricula hampered the transmission of knowledge and produced low-quality education.24 Mostly the people sent their children to madaris as these offered free education to the poor students learning, and seemed to be tailored to the surrounding culture. During the colonial period Deobandi-Barelwi polemics gained centrality, and Khatame-Nabuwwat emerged as the issue of prime concern in the post-colonial era

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which exacerbated the debate over the definitions of Muslim and non-Muslim, and culminated in exclusion. Khatam-e-Nabuwwat served as a rallying and unifying element between ulema of various religious groups including Ahrar, Barelwis, Ahle-Hadith and Shias in the district. Khatm-e-Nabuwwat and ulema’s politics of exclusion The passage of the Objectives Resolution 1949 empowered the ulema reinforcing their claims to be the custodians of Pakistan as an Islamic state.25 One of the direct consequences of the Objectives Resolution was that religious ideologies developed overlapping consensuses and created a niche for a singular Islamic identity. The process of redefining identity and Khatm-e-Nabuwwat opened up a common ground of Muslim identity for the contrasting religious articulations of Deobadis, Barelwis, Jamat-i-Islami and Ahrar. This overshadowed the intraIslam differences temporarily during the process of exclusion. In the newly founded Pakistan, the demand that the Ahmadis be declared non-Muslim was made by Ahrar26 for the first time in 1949.27 The demagoguery of Ahrar and their success in galvanizing the movement of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat helped to rehabilitate them in Pakistani politics. Ata Ullah Shah Bukhari announced the bisection of Ahrar as Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, with Ataullah Shah Bukhari as its Amir (President). Ayesha Jalal also maintained that Ahrar was merely seeking to restore a public image marred by their outspoken opposition to Pakistan’s demands.28 Majlis-i-Ahrar transformed itself and conjured up into existence MTKN with a singular agenda of excluding Ahmadis from the Muslim fold.29 The reverberation of anti-Ahmadiyya agitation reached through Ahrar as far afield as Mianwali. In the colonial period reformist ideas permeated through Deobandi and Barelwi khanqahs, which also served as nerve centres of sectarian conflict. Likewise in the post-colonial era these khanqahs and Majlis-i-Ahrar remained the advocates of the anti-Ahmadiyya movement. The issue of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat had acquired primacy at the Deobandi khanqah Sirajia even in the colonial days. The khanqah had old connections with Deobandi ulema such as Maulana Anwar Shah Kashmiri (1875–1933), Hussain Ahmed Madani (1879–1958) and Ataullah Shah Bukhari (1892–1961). They used the platform of Ahrar and later JUI to disseminate their religious and political views in Mianwali. Khawaja Khan Muhammad (1920–2010),30 a Deobandi ideologue of Khanqah Sirajia, joined JUI (the Yousaf Banuri group) at the behest of Ghulam Ghaus Hazarwi (1896–1981) and Mufti Mehmud (1919–1980) who had a spiritual allegiance with khanqah Sirajia Mianwali.31 Ahrar could never anchor itself in the district during the colonial period due to its anti-colonial stance, encountering a combined resistance from the colonial state and its collaborators, the local elites. However, Ahrar emerged as a pivotal force behind Khatm-e-Nabuwwat in the post-colonial period. The MTKN leadership realized the potential of religious ideas as an instrument for public mobilization, for which a greater consensus among

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ulema of all articulations was required. This was particularly so because the district administration tried to mitigate the importance of Khatam-e-Nabuwwat by declaring it merely an Ahrar-Ahmadiyya controversy, and according to the government, the rest of the ulema had no concern with it.32 Maulana Abdullah Darkhasti (1887–1994) inaugurated the Mianwali branch of MTKN with Sufi Muhammad Ayaz Khan as President, Maulana Ramzan as Vice President and Ghulam Rasul as the General Secretary of Ahrar.33 With the establishment of MTKN, Ahrar reignited their campaign against the Ahmadis. Ataullah Shah Bukhari, Muhammad Ali Jullundri, Lal Hussain Akhtar and Ghulam Ghaus Hazarvi addressed a conference in Mianwali and appealed to ulema of various religious groups (Deobandi, Barelwi, Ahl-eHadith, Jamat-i Islami and Shias) to mobilize the public and generate awareness of the impending threat posed by Ahmadis to Islam.34 Ataullah Shah Bukhari’s presence helped Ahrar to gain a lot of ground and credibility in the important towns of Mianwali. The district was divided into different constituencies in which the responsibilities to mobilize the public were entrusted to the respective sajjada nashins and the ulema. Importantly, the leadership of central Majlis-i-Amal was given to Barelwi Alim Abul Hasnat Qadri from JUP which proved instrumental in acquiring the support of mashaikh and sajjada nashins.35 Subsequently the ulema and sajjada nashins in Mianwali despite their doctrinal differences assembled on one platform of Majlis-i-Amal.36 Khatm-e-Nabuwwat’s shift from the theological into the political realm rallied the ulema around the common issue. Ahrar with its socialist agenda and agitational style of politics had a history in the district since the colonial period. Their activities were put under strict surveillance. As Ahrar’s political activities were mosque- or madrasa-centred, they started tabligh and unleashed the anti-Ahmadiyya campaign from the Deobandi madrasa Tabligh-ul-Islam in 1949; adjacent to it was a small mosque called ‘suniaranwali’ which subsequently became the epicentre of all their activities. The two main ideologues of Ahrar were Sufi Sher Muhammad and Maulana Ramzan. A number of resolutions were passed from various mosques in Mianwali, as many Ahrar sympathizers were working as imams and khatibs. The All-Pakistan Muslim Parties Convention37 was convened on July 13, 1952 at Lahore, in which a Council of Action (Majlis-e-Amal)38 was formed with the purpose to build a joint political forum to articulate their demands of declaring Ahmedis non-Muslims and removing them from key positions in government, and that Rabwa be declared an open city accessible to all Muslims.39 A Majlisi-Amla on the pattern of Central Majlis-i-Amal (at the national level) was also formed in 1952 in Mianwali.40 On August 15, 1952 Majlis-i-Amla Mianwali decided to forge a formal alliance with central Majlis-i-Amal and started working as Majlis-i-Amal Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat. The resolutions endorsed the demands of central Majlis-i-Amal, and yaum-e-Ihtijaj (a day of protest) was solemnized on the call of Ahrar throughout the Punjab.41 The Home Department issued orders to restrain them from public meetings and using loudspeakers under section 144.42 The intention was to isolate the Ahrar

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leaders from the masses at large, as Ahrar had the ability to reach the crevices of society to mobilise public sentiments. One of the most effective strategies was to hold tablighi (proselytizing) conferences in Mianwali to muster people’s support. The government warned the district government to institute a case against Ahrar after a careful scrutiny of the matter, and to effectively pursue it in the press and in public as it would likely be contested by Ahrar.43 To reach a wider audience, Ahrar made use of a print and mass contact campaign. Anti-Ahmadiyya literature was distributed, particularly the Azad newspaper which connected Ahrar with central organization in the Punjab. Concurrently, a mass-contact campaign to acquaint village folk with the movement of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat began. They visited villages, towns and mobilized Pathan tribes and local landed elites to join the movement. Weekly public gatherings were arranged in the mela ground every Sunday. On July 21, 1952, a shutter down strike was observed in protest, and a jalsa (public meeting) was organized in the district to condemn the police firing on civilians in Multan, as a result of which six Muslims were killed. Eventually in the wake of protracted negotiations between the Ahrar leaders and the Deputy Commissioner Mianwali, the ban on public meetings was lifted. Deobandis, Barelwis and particularly Ahrar used their street power to create unrest in the district and in the larger Punjab. MTKN’s condemnatory tone and tenor against Ahmadis became intense. A delegation of the All-Muslim Parties Convention led by Abdul Hamid Badayuni, with the Pir of Sirsina Sharif, Muzafar Ali Shamsi, and Taj-ud-din Ansari met the Prime Minister on January 22, 1953.44 Nazim-ud-Din categorically told them that he personally considered Ahmadis as outside the pale of Islam, but that since it was a constitutional issue, he alone could not take a decision.45 Majlis-e-Amal on February 22 announced raast iqdam (direct action) after the negotiations with the Prime Minister failed. Direct action placed the religious establishment in an openly confrontational position towards the state. Majlis-e-Amal dissolved itself to form a direct action committee. The strategy of the committee was to send jatha (batches) of volunteers to the Prime Minister’s residence to protest and offer themselves up for arrest. Before this scheme could be enacted, the central government arrested the prominent leaders of the direct action committee in Karachi.46 With the announcement of direct action by Central Majlis-e-Amal Punjab,47 a committee of direct action was formed in Mianwali and chose Moti Masjid (a Deobandi mosque) as its centre of activities.48 Majlis-e-Amila Mianwali organized the Khatm-e-Nabuwwat conference and invited Ataullah Shah Bukhari, Muhammad Ali Jullundri, Maulana Abdullah Darkhawsti, and Maulana Ghulamullah Khan. In his address Ataullah Shah Bukhari motivated the jamaat to recruit more volunteers. A few batches of volunteers were dispatched from Mianwali to Lahore to join the protest; realizing the intensity of the uprising in Lahore, it was decided that the volunteers would court arrest inside the district.49 Most of the senior Ahrar leaders were arrested under sections 3 and 21 of the Public Safety Act. During that protest movement in Mianwali, the Deobandi ulema remained in the forefront.

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Khanqah Sirajia served as a safe hideout for Deobandi ulema during the course of this direct action. Ghulam Ghaus Hazarwi, who had a close connection with Khawaja Khan Muhammad (1916–2010), the sajjada nashin of the khanqah, took shelter in the khanqah at Kundian (a small town in Mianwali) to escape arrest.50 However, the Punjab government successfully frustrated the plan: most of the volunteers sent from Lahore to Karachi and from Karachi back to Lahore were ‘detained’ under arrest. These pre-emptive measures and particularly the arrest of the members of Majlis-e-Amal generated a wave of resentment and lawlessness throughout the province and more specifically in Lahore.51 The Punjab disturbances had a political context. Daultana found in the Ahmadi issue a means of undermining the federal government. Neither the modernizing governing elite nor the ulema were sincere about anchoring the state in proper Islamic norms.52 Maududi’s withdrawal from the movement was one example in this regard.53 He claimed that the greater issue was to frame an Islamic constitution and that declaring Ahmadis as non-Muslims was a secondary concern which needed to be resolved within a constitutional framework, avoiding violence or direct action.54 Niazi interpreted this as a deceptive act.55 Maududi’s statement undermined the significance of the anti-Ahmadiyya question and narrowed down its scope in the national politics of Pakistan, as he claimed the larger question was to have an Islamic constitution for the country, based on a singular Islamic identity enshrined in the idea of universal Muslim community (Ummah). This indicates that ulema were largely interested in increasing religious authority by placing themselves in the national narrative of Pakistan. They wanted to move away from the anti-Ahmadiyya issue by declaring it merely a local and religious affair which could be resolved constitutionally in the parliament. Khatm-e-Nabuwwat as a core ideology of Pakistan Many scholars have discussed Deobandi activism in the Anti-Ahmadiyya movement of 1953, This book argues that an aggressive Barelwi religio-political activism gained ascendancy over the Deobandis in Mianwali. The most notable example is of Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi (1915–2001),56 who represented the Barelwi denomination, and had his political affiliation with the Khilafat-iPakistan, and later joined Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Pakistan. He was a significant leader that the Khatam-e-Nabuwwat movement catapulted to political prominence in Mianwali particularly and in Pakistan generally. He adopted an aggressive stance and opposed the policy of Majlis-e-Amal of courting arrests, as he suggested instead to lay siege to the Punjab Assembly and force members of the Assembly to pass the anti-Ahmadiyya bill.57 Niazi’s radicalized and politically charged disposition was opposed to the Sufi/shrine oriented apolitical perception of Barelwis. He was much mobilized to defend Islam and struggled for his version of an Islamic state with sharia enforced. Barelwi ideologues, particularly Niazi, drew their strength and political clout from the movement of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat. To relegate Khatm-e-Nabuwwat to the local religious realm and exclude it from the public sphere would drive

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Barelwis out from the broader Islamic ideological framework. Niazi aimed to demonstrate the centrality and relevance of religion and the idea of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat as a core ideology in the modern society to solve its problems. To make it relevant, Niazi declared Khatm-e-Nabuwwat not merely a religious but also a political movement and a constitutional issue. At one level Niazi’s traditional Barelwism drew its strength from the charismatic authority of Sufi leaders which provided connections on the tribal and regional levels to succeed in electoral politics. Niazi acquired electoral support from Barelwi khanqahs, prominent among whom was Sial Sharif (a Chishtiyya khanqah). In this way Barelwi Sufis, the proponents of shrinebased Islam, linked the structures of local politics with the broader concept of Islamic community in British India. This helped them to create a growing space in the modern mosaic of Pakistan’s state structure while being part of the old traditionalist religious culture.58 At another level, while keeping his religious allegiance grounded in Sufi tariqa, he used pan-Islamic symbols at the national level, declaring Khatm-e-Nabuwwat as the foundation of the ideology of Pakistan, underpinning the concept of unity of God and a singular Islamic identity. Hence it was imperative for the national integration of the country.59 Barelwi mashaikh and Sufi’s support for the modern ideology of the Muslim League in the Pakistan movement and their link with the modern political and electoral structure of post-colonial Pakistan forced them to give a vision of all-encompassing Islamic governance. Therefore the Barelwi ideologues vehemently advocated the enforcement of sharia at the state level. Niazi presented religion as adaptable to ideological change. To give religion a place of centrality and relevance in the modern society to solve its problems, he maintained that religious ideas had absorbed many aspects of modernity and fashioned itself as a modern ideology in the modern world.60 Islamists considered Islam as much a religion as an ideology; Mandaville called it ‘a neologism’.61 Olivier Roy also explained this kind of idea of Islamism in these words: ‘Islamists view Islam not only as a religion but as a political ideology that should reshape all aspects of society (politics, economy, social justice and foreign policy). In this way the traditional idea of religion as all-encompassing was extended to the complexities of modern society’.62 Barelwis tried to deploy the symbolic weight of Islam to advance their claims of political leadership and power to define the boundaries of Muslimness.63 So every political gesture of ulema was marked by the will to power. When the Khatm-e-Nabuwwat movement was losing its momentum, the ulema extended the scope of Khatam-e-Nabuwwat from the religious to the national realm by accusing Zafar ullah Khan of propagating the Ahmadi faith as a government official, instead of showing his commitment to Islamic ideology. Maulana Yousaf Binuri (1906–1977),64 a religious scholar of Deobandi orientation and the patron of Binuri madrassa in Karachi, suggested that Ahmadis had carved out a state within the state and the orders received from Rabwa trumped all other communities.65 The Ahmadi question proved to be the means through which the state of Pakistan had to be historically reconstructed in order to

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provide a different solution to the problem of accommodating Islam within the national narrative.66 In the construction of this new national narrative and identity, the ‘history’ of the formation of the Ahmadiyya religion occupied centre stage. The demands of ulema regarding Zafarullah Khan’s withdrawal from government office and that Ahmadis should not hold key positions in government or the military was linked with the belief that Ahmadis rejected the idea of the creation of Pakistan, as fundamentally premised on Muslim nationhood, and so they could not be committed to the state’s Islamic ideology.67 Barelwi ulema were more assertive in saying that Zafarullah Khan, as a representative of the government, was propagating the teachings of his own Prophet of Qadian abroad instead of building Pakistan’s foreign policy on the principles of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat. The Barelwi ulema therefore claimed that the Ahmadiyya community was symbolically constructed as heretic as well as disloyal to Pakistan.68 Asad Ahmed’s argument vividly explained Niazi’s assertion that ulema believed that Ahmadis considered themselves as a distinct separate community, refused to say prayers behind non-Ahmadis or attend their funerals, considering non-Ahmadis as kafir. The anomalous state of Ahmadi identity and their heterodox beliefs were harmful to the Muslim community and state. They could destabilize not only the fundamentals of faith but also undermine the authority of the state.69 This also strengthens my argument that in the search for a singular Islamic identity, minority religious groups were diabolically excluded as religious ‘other’. Barelwi ulema knew the Ahmadi question would only be resolved constitutionally, particularly after the declaration of Khawaja Nazim-ud-Din. The movement had almost lost its momentum, particularly after the withdrawal of Jamat-i-Islami. However, Niazi resorted to violence and agitational politics just to save the movement from fizzling out. He decided to make two centres for public meetings and activities. The morning activities were conducted till afternoon (Asar prayers) at Delhi Darwaza, and Wazir Khan Masjid was specified for evening activities. Niazi’s inflammatory speeches drew throngs of people from Punjab and NWFP into the Wazir Khan Mosque where he established a Majlis-e-Amal to take prompt decisions about the movement,70 though Niazi sprung up as the most proactive and central figure in the movement. This shows that the ideology of peaceful Sufism was just one position among an array of political positions that Barelwi ideologues have taken. There were more overt political voices of Barelwis in the public space. At night the entry points of the walled city were blocked and the main gate of the mosque was electrocuted to prevent the infiltration of policemen. On the morning of March 4, Niazi sent three batches of 100 volunteers towards the civil secretariat, district kachehry and Government House, reciting Kalima and raising anti-Ahmedi slogans. The Deputy Superintendent of Police Firdous Shah tried to disperse them and drag them into police trucks at Dilgaran Chowk near the railway station. In this struggle, Firdous Shah was alleged to have kicked hamail sharif (a book of Quranic verses) hanging from the neck of a volunteer. The infuriated mob stabbed Firdous Shah to death. The situation worsened on 6 March when a

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delegation headed by Khalifa Shujauddin and Salma Tassadaq Hussain was sent to Masjid Wazir Khan, which failed to negotiate with Niazi. On the night of March 6, Lahore was placed under martial law and the volunteers were arrested. Niazi escaped arrest while hiding in Chinia Wali Mosque in the Mochi gate, and sneaked out of Lahore in the guise of a villager to Qasur, from where he was arrested. On May 7, Abu Ala Maududi, Abdul Sattar Niazi and Khalil Ahmed Qadri were tried in military summary court, and handed down the death sentence on charges of treason and inciting violence and religious passions. The death sentences were subsequently commuted to life imprisonment, later reduced to two years.71 Niazi was not even given due consideration in the court of inquiry, though he requested to be part of the proceedings. The court asked him to submit only a written statement. In the Munir-Kiyani report there was no mention of Niazi’s statement, however according to him Master Taj-ud-Din told him in the jail that the Justice Munir while speaking to Ch. Fazal Illahi (a lawyer at that time) called Niazi’s 150-page-long statement a historical document containing a wealth of information. It is pertinent to underscore that in the 1950s the state did not seem amenable to the exclusionary stance propagated by Ahrar and its allies. Until that point it remained committed to protecting the fundamental rights of all religious minorities and did not accord legitimacy to the antiAhmadiyya campaign.72 That is what Sadia Saeed terms as accommodation of the Ahmadis by the state of Pakistan.73

Resurgence of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat in 1974 and Ahmadiyya exclusion The religio-political parties acquired a greater significance as political representatives at a time when the breakup of Pakistan in 1971 created a need for ideological realignment of Pakistan. A more centralized ideology was reconstructed as the basis for Pakistan’s identity which was clearly reflected in the most important document of the state, i.e., the constitution of Pakistan.74 The ideological reconstitution in Pakistan resulted in the more direct influence of Islam on its polity, society and institutions. The representatives of religio-political parties in the parliament used their influence to ensure a more ‘Islamized’ constitutional document.75 The Ahmadi question emerged on the national scene once again in May of 1974 following a clash between Ahmadi and non-Ahmadi students in Rabwah, a predominantly Ahmadi populated city.76 The scale of the anti-Ahmadi demonstration was much larger in 1974 than what it had been in 1953, as ulema had gained substantial political power in the parliament and could turn the Ahmadi question into a constitutional debate and thus push the government to exclude Ahmadis from the fold of Islam.77 The diverse religious groups got together to form a Majlis-e-Amal (council of action) with Maulana Yousaf Binuri as its president. Majlis-e-Amal Mianwali once again became active in the anti-Ahmadiyya movement. Ulema and mashaikh proclaimed the establishment of All Pakistan Majlis-e-Amal Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, which was led by Maulana Yousaf Binuri, Khawaja Khan Muhammad and Abdul Sattar Niazi representing Mianwali.78

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Yousaf Binuri’s madrassa was one of those Deobandi madrasas which were controlled by the ulema of the Hussain Ahmed Madni group and followed the leadership of Madni and JUH. So the Banuri group was politically inclined and active in the anti-Ahmadiyya movement.79 As the anti-Ahmadiyya movement took shape in 1974, the ulema asserted in a more violent and provocative style that there was an ‘Ahmadi mission’ working in Israel which had conspired against Islam and Pakistan in favour of a united India.80 They also demanded Rabwah be declared an open city. This demand was premised on the claim that Ahmadis used Rabwah as a base for planning to carry out extensive missionary activities in certain locales in Pakistan.81 In case of non-acceptance of their demands, they threatened the social boycott of Ahmadis and a countrywide strike on Friday June 14, 1974.82 Niazi instructed Majlis-e-Amal Mianwali to organize a procession as a gesture of solidarity with All Pakistan Majlis-e-Amal. The procession was organized by Anjuman-i-Talba Islam, the student wing of Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jamat. The ideology of Ahl-e-Sunnat was firmly imprinted on the ethos and identity of Anjuman which was more directly involved in politics of Mianwali. Anjuman mobilized large numbers of students, followed by lawyers and civilians. Maulana Ramzan of Majlis-i-Ahrar, Hafiz Ullah Niazi, President of the Student Union at Quaid-e-Azam University, Maulana Ali Muhammad Mazahiri and Hafiz Noman, the General Secretary of Islami Jamiat Talba Government College Mianwali, addressed the public and resolved to continue the movement till it achieved its objectives.83 On June 13, 1974, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, the Prime Minister of Pakistan, in a televised address to the nation, promised to refer this issue to the National Assembly of Pakistan after the budget session. Khan Muhammad and Niazi along with other ulema passed resolutions and insisted that there was unanimity of all sects on the issue of Ahmadis as nonMuslims, therefore referring this issue to parliament was superfluous.84 Simultaneously the Central Majlis-e-Amal Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat decided to mobilize public opinion more vigorously through a mass-contact campaign. The members of Majlis-i-Amal Mianwali including Khan Muhammad and Niazi travelled throughout the district and addressed public meetings at Bhakkar, Esa Khel, Liaqatabad, and Daud Khel, and urged that ulema and politicians must frame a comprehensive policy, regardless of religious and political rivalries, to make a push for their demands.85 On Niazi’s call, the Vice President of MTKN Mianwali, Maulana Ali Mazahiri organized a public meeting with Imam Bara Ghulam Muhammad Shah. Once again the ulema of various religious groups including Khan Muhammad (Deobandi, JUI), Abdul Sattar Niazi (Barelwi, JUP) Syed Ghulam Ali Shah (Shia) Maulana Ramzan (Ahrar) and Abdul Maalik (Barelwi) were together, and addressed and reinforced their demands regarding the Ahmadis.86 Later Central Majlis-e-Amal organized three public meetings in Lahore on July 3 and 22 and September 1, 1974 at Masjid Chinianwali, Rang Mehal and Badshahi Masjid respectively. Yousaf Binuri admitted that the Ahmadi question was primarily socioreligious rather than strictly religious. The ulema appear to have suggested that the Ahmadi community should be ostracized from public life in

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Pakistan through a social and economic boycott, and also condemned the government for imposing restrictions on public speeches, publication of polemical sectarian literature, and newspapers like ‘Chitan’, ’Jisarat’, ‘Nida-e-Baluchistan’ and ‘Ailan’.87 By early September 1974, a constitutional amendment had declared the Ahmadis a non-Muslim minority.88 This had followed televised session of the National Assembly during much of August.89 The ulema were able to achieve two of their self-proclaimed major goals: the legislative and religious exclusion of Ahmadiyya from the broader Muslim community, and a wider shariatization of the judicial framework in Pakistan through the passing of the Second Amendment 1974. After the Second Amendment the new legal status of Ahmadis widened the cleavage between Ahmadis and ulema. Apart from definitional exclusion, the ulema wanted a complete withdrawal of Ahmadis from the social and private life of Islam. Asad Ahmed called it, ‘a disjuncture between legal identity and performative identity’.90 The social space for Ahmadis shrank further when Rabwah was declared an open city, its name changed to Chanab Nagar. Furthermore, in all government departments and educational institutions, non-Ahmadis were appointed, including to the police, post office, railway and municipal committee. Khan Muhammad who was by now the seventh Ameer of MTKN, after the demise of Yousaf Banuri, started organizing religious activities in Chanab Nagar, like an All Pakistan Khatm-e-Nabuwwat conference, which was attended by Deobandi, Barelwi, Ahl-e-Hadith, Shia, and several mashaikh from Saudi Arabia. After the conference, Khan Muhammad led the Friday prayers in ‘Muhammadia Mosque’, Rabwah, which was the first public congregation of its kind in Rabwah.91 Holding this conference was meant to break the exclusive control of the Ahmadis over Rabwah. On July 7, 1976, Khan Muhammad laid the foundation of a mosque and madrasa in Rabwah, and fifty acres of land on the fringe of the Chenab River was forcefully acquired in order to build a ‘Muslim colony’ for non-Ahmadis. This was a violation of the rights promised to the Ahmadis as a minority. To conduct intensive proselytizing activities in Chanab Nagar, an institution of Dar-ul-Mubalighin was set up where annual radd-i-Qadianiyat (anti-Qadiani) courses were arranged along with a madrasa in which the curriculum was taught in Arabic.92 The expansion in the publication of polemical literature was considered vital for preaching. In a committee set up by Khan Muhammad under the patronage of Maulana Yousaf Ludhianwi in February 1978 to particularly expand the publication work of ‘Lolak’, MTKN established a printing press in Multan and a new weekly edition of ‘Khatm-e-Nabuwwat’ was initiated, opening up a polemical war against the Ahmadis.93 The success of the ulema enhanced their political role which they manipulated by pressing the government to enforce the differentiation between Ahmadis and non-Ahmadis in an institutionalized manner through legal and administrative measures. With a strict exclusionary disposition, the ulema argued that Muslim-ness belonged exclusively to Muslims. ‘Muslim’ was a legal status protected under law. They asserted that appropriation of Muslim terminologies and practices

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by Ahmadis outraged the feelings of the Muslim community and was an infringement of their rights.94 A number of civil suits were filed by ulema against the Ahmadis, demanding they should be prohibited from naming their place of worship a masjid and constructing it in the shape of a mosque and from performing prayers in the Muslim fashion such as Azan and Salat. They also demanded the prohibition of Ahmadis from using epithets reserved exclusively for the Holy Prophet (pbuh), his family and companions. Ulema and Ahmadis were both aware that these distinctive signs of Islam and ritual practices were crucial for constituting Muslim subjectivity and therefore belonged to Muslims only.95 As Asad Ahmed explained, ‘Ahmadis were understood as undermining Islam by dissimulating Muslimness and deceitfully appropriating Muslim signs and practice’.96 The court declared these terms and rituals exclusive to Islam and prohibited Ahmadis from using them. Ulema’s concerns about ‘Muslimness’ could be traced back to the nineteenth century reformist movements. The figure of the Ahmadi became central to religious and social anxieties which became legally institutionalized with the exclusion of Ahmadis from the pale of Islam.97 The decision of 1974 was seen as a vindication by a majority of ulema who consistently claimed that Ahmadis were heretics. The state offered an exclusionary definition of Islam, premised on reformist and sharia Islam, which triggered the process of the redefinition of Muslim and non-Muslim with a focus on defining citizenship with reference to majoritarian Islamic parameters.98 The state symbolically reconstructed the identity of the Pakistani nation by excluding Ahmadis from Muslim citizenship. The exclusion through constitutional amendment of 1974 along reformist/revivalist lines to purify Muslim identity ratified the impulse toward sharper boundaries between Muslim and non-Muslim. It also exacerbated the puritan position which enmeshed with an ongoing and older sectarian conflict and struggle for power within Sunnism.

The binary of madrasa/mosque and khanqah: The accentuation of the sectarian divide The sectarian conflict which emerged between ulema of various religious groups in the colonial period continued in the post-independence era. Sectarianism had its roots in primordial intra-Islam, and these differences were immensely accentuated under the British. It was then that commonalities were replaced with antagonistic tendencies. The phenomenon of Sufi pluralism can be attributed to the primordial identification of rural Islam. Deobandis who opposed certain aspects of shrine-based Islam, calling them bida (accretion against Islam), created an endemic conflict between the two denominations of Deobandis and Barelwis (followers of shrine-based Islam). The ulema integrated themselves as a community around Islam, which was insubstantial. The fragile unity between ulema of various religious denominations which had been created in search of a singular Islamic identity was broken up by a centrifugal sectarian force which re-emerged from the madrasa and mosque.

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In the post-colonial state of Pakistan, there was a binary between khanqah and madrasa/mosque. As Zaman aptly noted, the nerve centres of this renewed sectarian conflict were not Sufi shrines or khanqah but the mosque and madrasa.99 The ulema representing Deobandi and Barelwi khanqahs were involved in national politics, advocating unity between various religious groups to achieve their objective of religio-political authority. The ulema’s vested interests were attached to the larger national politics, the central concern of which was to create a space in the national narrative of the country premised on a singular Islamic identity as a strong centripetal force to galvanise the ideologues of all religious groups. In contrast, sectarianism began to take shape around representatives of mosques and madrasas, the khateeb (religious teachers) and imam (prayer leaders) which Mumtaz Ahmed referred to as a ‘revolt of petty ulema’.100 They catered their localized interests and acted as a centrifugal force, breaking the singular Islamic identity into distinct religious identities by evoking conflict and sectarian dissent. The Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, as an issue of prime importance, was introduced in colonial Mianwali by the ideologues of Deobandi and Barelwi khanqahs. In post-colonial Mianwali, the Khatm-e-Nabuwwat movement was led by Khawaja Khan Muhammad and Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi, the ideologue of Khanqah Sirajia and proponent of the Barelwi denomination in Mianwali in 1974. Khan Muhammad also led at the national level when he assumed the leadership of MTKN after the demise of Yousaf Banuri.101 Sectarian identities were not just revived, but also in many ways constructed and redefined in the post-colonial state of Pakistan. The proliferation of mosques and madrasas, the impact of print, and the emergence of religio-political sectarian organizations combating their rivals, all interacted in a milieu of considerable social and political volatility to radicalize a longstanding but often dormant sectarian conflict. The madrasa and mosque, which provided the loci for the proliferation of sectarian dissension, frustrated all attempts for consensus among the Deobandis and Barelwi ulema and sajjada nashins. Mosques and madrasas not only had their own exclusivist sectarian affiliations, many of them were associated with particular sectarian organizations. Much of the leadership of such organizations came from madrasas and comprised people who began their careers as preachers and prayer-leaders in their neighbourhood mosques. These religio-political parties, such as JUI, JUP and Jamat-i-Islami, provided ideological support to clerics of mosque and madrasa. As ideologues of their respective parties, they used the pulpit of the mosque to peddle their political agendas for which they were paid and patronized by religious associations.102 In most of their speeches, and particularly sermons at the Friday prayer gathering, which provided an important venue for political or religious mobilization, they criticized the policies of the government and often made appeals for political agitation, questioning the legitimacy of the state or its policies.103 Nasr is spot on when he argues that the prayer leader (imam/khateeb) and madrasa teacher, less steeped in religious knowledge, are more political.104 Olivier Roy calls them ‘ritual practitioners’.105 One such example was of maulvi Ali Muhammad, who

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was a government employee working as imam at Ballokhel mosque. He was also district Ameer of the defunct Jamat-i-Islami, as it was banned by Ayub Khan’s (1958–1968) government. He launched the ‘Two Anna member’ movement.106 The district government terminated his services on the charge of distributing the polemical literature of his respective jamaat, calling it political propaganda.107 Sectarian conflict had sometimes enmeshed with an ongoing struggle for power and authority within Sunnism. One apt example was a dispute between Masjid Gulzar-e-Medina and Jamia Masjid Ibrahimabad. Both mosques were under the control of Deobandi khateeb, whereas Barelwis claimed their ownership. Maulana Abdul Maalik, khateeb of Jamia Akbaria mosque and a member of JUP, incited Barelwis to forcibly occupy them. Deobandis in reaction decided to adopt a protest resolution in Friday prayers.108 Hateful slogans were raised by both Deobandis and Barelwis, which had served to harden sectarian identities and worked to incite sectarian sentiments.109 Violence was employed as an instrument to empower the clerics of mosques and madrasas. They found the sermons had greater impact if they use threatening rhetoric, so they constantly remained in ‘rage posture’. As Grare rightly remarks, ‘mullahs become increasingly trapped in their own rhetoric. They had either to become more radical or risk losing their followers’.110 The conflict based on doctrinal differences provoked a centrifugal backlash from madrasas which acted as primordial pulls seeking to counter the consensus, a centripetal force between ulema. It opposed all attempts at unity to serve the national narrative of a singular purified Muslim identity. The sectarian fissure remained intense during Ayub Khan’s military government. The clerics of mosque and madrasa, as ideologues of their religio-political party, explicitly advocated the doctrinal differences, as their religious authority could only be sustained in a conflict-ridden environment. The sectarian language had a greater appeal for the audience. As a result, the extension of the influence of urban religio-political organizations in the countryside by sponsoring the growth of new madrasas and mosques introduced less a ‘reforming’ style of religious life and urban, text-based standardized religious identity, but rather generated more sectarian fissures. This sectarian dissent as a centrifugal backlash thwarted any prospects of unity among the ulema. The polarization between centripetal and centrifugal forces structured the framework within which the discontent between religious groups took place. While highlighting the divergence between the khanqah and madrasa, one must not gather the impression that the peripheral ulema were in any way against the concept of Khatam-i-Nubuwwat. The point worth noting here is their greater tendency to stoke the flames of sectarianism which contravened what khanqah stood for, the convergence in the given circumstances. Issac Kfir noticed ‘sectarian violence encourages the demise of central authority and the creation of unregulated zones where Islamists can establish their fiefdom’.111 Javed Iqbal in his book Ideology of Pakistan, originally published in 1959, offered his advice to Ayub Khan with regard to the creation of a ministry of Auqaf. He tried to translate the ideas of his father Allama Muhammad Iqbal

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into concrete policy measures. He suggested that this ministry should take possession of and administer all religious endowments (auqaf) in Pakistan.112 He quoted his father’s negative views on piri-muridi, the mysticism that ‘enervated the people and kept them steeped in all kinds of superstition’, and successful implementation of an educated, voting population was officially redefined as the metaphor of the ideal Pakistani nation and of the ‘true’ Islam the country was created to embody. Ayub, in order to make mosque, madrasa and religious institutions practically useful, and in consonance with his vision of a modernized and egalitarian Islam, tried to exercise control over madaris and mosques. The rationale underlying the modern education system was that it could form the basis for reforming sharia in Pakistan. Ayub (1958–1969) considered a path to progress was possible if alternative loci of power were controlled by the authorities. The clerics of madrasa and mosque who were religious but also political actors were delegitimized in the modernizing discourse and their religious appeal and authority was meant to be curbed and replaced by that of the bureaucracy.113 According to a fortnightly report, the district administration under Ayub Khan’s government revealed that not a single mosque was under the administrative control of the Waqf department, and it remained so until 1985. The district administration suggested that the mosques and madrasas should be brought under the Waqf department of the government, which was set up in 1959.114 The taking over of religious institutions, madrasa/ mosques was linked with the ideological notion of high morality and embracing the reformist and revivalist religious position.115 The government considered it the most effective way to control sectarian propaganda, particularly between Deobandis and Barelwis, and to stop the imam and khateeb from giving politicized sermons, propagating bigotry and intolerance.116 The use of loudspeakers was restricted to the khutba (sermon) and azan (call to prayers) under the provision of loudspeakers and sound amplifier ordinance,117 as free use of loudspeakers resurfaced political and religious conflicts and increased new sets of anxieties.118 The Auqaf Department systematized the rules and regulations for the imam and khateeb positions; Ayub decided to nominate the imams and khateeb of mosques. Olivier Roy calls it a trend toward creating an ‘institutionalized clergy’.119 Ayub Khan believed that there was a time when madaris were producing the intellectual elite of the Muslims but now what they were breeding was ‘uncompromising cynicism’.120 There was a re-emphasis on providing modern Islamic education. The Punjab Auqaf department inaugurated an ulema academy with the intention of modernizing religious teachings; around two hundred madrasas were nationalized.121 The district administration also planned to make education at madrasas pragmatic by reducing the illiteracy of religious teachers and resolving the dichotomy between tradition and modernity within the education system by integrating the curriculum of the madrasa into modern secular education. The emphasis was on making the mosque a dynamic institution to preach moral values, where the imam or khateeb should act as an enlightened religious leader to bring the spirit of religion in line with

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the general education system.122 Nausheen Ali also noted that madrasa education should constitute an entirely non-sectarian milieu to help students to rise above parochial sectarian sentiments, promoting a more progressive and tolerant understanding of Islam.123 Jamal Malik also holds the same view that integration of modern and old subjects was planned by the government in the 1960s but could not be implemented in true letter and spirit due to opposition within the madrasa.124 One aspect of teaching in the madrasa was the art of debate (munazara). Unlike urban madrasa where they were trained in the skills of using rhetoric and polemics from their own sub-sect to win an argument, here in Mianwali, the young students were only imparted the awareness of sectarian differences leading to divisive and antagonistic speeches.125 The limited job market for the clerics gave rise to radicalization, which is evident from the Deputy Commissioner’s report stating that they should be given vocational education so as to work as carpenters, weavers etc. Preaching should not be a livelihood for sustenance.126 Poverty forced them to work on the politicized agenda of religious associations; this shows a correlation between the increase of poverty and the soaring influence of the madrasa. Ian Talbot maintains that ‘Ayub thought mullas were covetous of wealth and power and did not stop short of any mischief’.127 Thus the conflict that is evoked resides in class differentiation.128 The madrasa, mosque and sectarian organizations have all interacted in socially and economically volatile conditions. These all remained mere suggestions and nothing could be implemented. The Ahmadiyya controversy had a twofold bearing on the sectarian Shia-Sunni conflict in Pakistan. The success of the anti-Ahmadiyya movement encouraged the Sunni ulema to apply the same principle of exclusion to the Shia community.129 Despite unanimity of views among Shias and Sunnis from the 1950s to 1970s over the issue of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, Sunni ulema, notably Tanzim-i-Ahl-e-Sunnat affiliated with the Deobandi denomination, had unleashed anti-Shia vitriol.130 As Qasim Zaman maintains: on the one hand certain prominent Shia leaders including Muzaffar Ali Shamsi as a member of MTKN supported the persecution of the Ahmadis. The history of violence against the Ahmadis has supplied the anti-Shia front; on the other hand the constitutional definition of a Muslim so as to exclude the Ahmadis has led to demands to further define Islam so as to exclude the Shia. In a state that professes to be guided by the fundamental principles of Islam, the Ahmadi controversy has contributed to sectarian discourse by forcefully raising, and keeping alive, such questions as who a Muslim ‘really’ is and what position a Muslim (and those who are not Muslim or are not recognized) has in that state.131 Anti-Ahmadiyya leading to anti-Shia front Anti-Shia polemics orchestrated by Deobandis during the anti-Ahmadiyya movement exposed the inanity of the Shia-Sunni common front.132 Once

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Ahmadis were relegated to a marginal status, the dissension created around denominational differences crept into the other minority sects.133 Farzana Sheikh also maintains: when Ahmadis were constitutionally designated as non-Muslims and stripped off their rights as full citizens, it set a precedent that significantly enhanced the power of Sunni groups pressing for a sectarian construction of ‘the Pakistani’. Since then radical Sunnis have repeatedly pressured the state to consider ever narrower definitions of ‘the Muslim’ that would exclude the country’s Shia minority and reserve the constitutional rights of ‘the Pakistani’ to the country’s Sunni Muslims.134 Sectarianism emerged on the socio-political horizon of Pakistan from 1940–1947.135 After Pakistan’s birth, a Shia campaign for constitutional safeguarding, the reservation of seats in the state institutions, and freedom for azadari and other rituals specific to Shia religious life was once again launched.136 The main menace that Shias were subjected to, came from ulema notably TAS of Deobandis. To safeguard their rights, Shias formed various organisations like the West Punjab Shia Political Conference, Central Shia Welfare Committee, All-Pakistan Shia Political Conference (APSC), and later an organization Idara-e-Tahafuz-e-Haquq-i-Shia Pakistan. These organizations became more relevant as radical Sunni ulema demanded a ban on azadari and Muharram processions and urged the government to declare Shia non-Muslims.137 The demand gained urgency with the increasing pressure of the prominent ulema, Shabbir Ahmed Usmani, leader of the JUI, and Maulana Maududi of Jamat-i-Islami, who advocated Islamic system of government and legislation of Pakistan. They were supported by Jamiyat-e-ulema-e-Pakistan, Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatme-Nabuwwat and other religio-political parties. The passing of the Objectives Resolution and its Islamic provisions confirmed Shia apprehensions that religious hardliners would influence the constitution making and legislative process. Shia organizations tried to fend off anything that would enshrine the superiority of Hanafi Fiqah in the constitution and undermine the legal status of Shia. Shia leaders were willing to support the Islamic constitution and the implementation of sharia provided they would be allowed to follow their own Fiqah. Agitation against Shia azadari resurfaced more strongly in 1955: azadari processions were attacked in at least 25 places in the Punjab in September 1955. Justin Jones maintains that a new form of Shiaism took shape with the development of organizations, public forums and doctrinal religious literature.138 Such attempts to marginalize Shias in Pakistan contributed to an environment of religious differentiation.139 Maulana Allahyar Chakralwi’s (1904–1984)140 strong opposition to the Shias began in this highly charged atmosphere of sectarian animosity from 1950–1960 in Chakrala, a town in Mianwali District.

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Contextualising Chakrala as a site of sectarian difference Chakrala141 presented a mosaic where ethnic, tribal and religious groups existed as independent cultural units.142 Islam in Chakrala was popularized and sustained by the Sufi/Pirs, whose shrines were sites of veneration in the countryside.143 Islam in Chakrala represented plural socio-religious values embodied in the shrine-based culture of the region. The demographic pattern of Chakrala was comprised of predominantly Awan tribes, who were landowners and held considerable influence in the town.144 The sociological profile of the area was essentially tribal, and tribal animosities often led to conflicts and rivalries. In Chakrala and its surrounding regions of Potwar and the valley of Saun Skesar, Shias and Ahmadis lived as affluent minority groups. They were landowners and patronized their communities as chiefs of their tribes.145 The Ahmadis aimed at making Puchnad, the central town of Chakrala, an Ahmadi base and from there to get a foothold in the surrounding districts of Attok, Chakwal, Talagang, Mianwali, and Khushab.146 For this purpose, some of the Ahmadi ideologues purchased agricultural lands in the towns of Thamey Wali and Puchnad, near Chakrala to embark on their missionary activities, which were organized and financed under the aegis of rich landowners who had converted to the Ahmadi faith. New converts extended moral and financial support by establishing a school, a charity hospital and a training centre for males and females separately. Sectarianism emerged as a manifestation of fractured identities, caused by the coercion of the majority Sunnis who tried to establish their authority over Shias through tribal pressure or by using force.147 The interplay of tribal, social structures and regional economic imperatives helped in the development of Shiaism.148 The inter-tribal rivalries exacerbated sectarianism to quite a substantial extent. The Shia tended to view rural Sunnis as their potential converts. The Shia agrarian magnates, as tribal leaders, coerced Sunni members of the tribe into conversion to Shiaism.149 In such a society with a tribal structure, submission to the tribal chief is of cardinal importance. Thus the tribal chiefs used religion to exercise their control over the people. They could even impress upon the people of their tribe(s) to change their religious affiliation. Thus religion was entwined with tribal, social and political relations and their internecine conflicts.150

Sectarian contestations: Demonization of Fitna-e-Shia Rawafiz Steeped in Deobandi ideology, Maulana Allahyar, stressing an exclusionary discourse, embarked on his campaign for the exclusion of Shias from the pale of Islam. Vali Nasr argues that Shia-Sunni sectarianism was the outcome of one group of Deobandi ulema (the Madni group) who opposed Pakistan’s creation. In order to assert their authority over Pakistan’s politics and religion, Deobandis tried to divert the focus to the concern for pure Islamic society and hence played a leading role first in the agitation against Ahmadiyya and later against the Shia.151 The Deobandi version of Islam epitomized a reaction to

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152

Shia dissemination in India. Particularly the areas constituting UP. The conflict was called Fitna-e-Shia Rawafiz.153 The anti-Shia fatwa issued by the leading Deobandi ulema clearly placed them in the reformist tradition of the pre-mutiny reformers.154 In those days the takfiri fatawa appeared to have become quite a norm. Allahyar’s focus was singularly riveted on Shias whom he denounced as the greatest enemy of Islam, which indicated that the wedge of differentiation was turned only to the Shia minority. When the focus is narrowed down to the district of Mianwali, the Shias were settled in considerable numbers. As Nur-ul-Hassan Bukhari, the leader of TAS, wrote in its organ Dawat: Nowhere else in Pakistan the Shias were as strong as in some parts of Mianwali. It is the most backward region in the entire Punjab because it is the house of Shiaism. Zakirs as numerous as the grains of sand of the Thal desert, indulging day and night in the shameful tabarra (abuse of companions of the Prophet (pbuh)). Not even one-tenth of the storm of abuse and insult being perpetrated here is witnessed anywhere else.155 This statement reflected the tenuous relationship between the Sunnis and Shias, articulated through polemics and munazaras as Shia zakirs were frequently operating in the district. Allahyar’s contestation of Shia strictly emerged from the reformist tradition of excluding all the deviant and un-Islamic from the discourse of Islam. He claimed that his aim was to reform beliefs, however his takfiri approach and declaring of others’ beliefs as untrue stirred hostility and incited sectarian animosity. Allahyar used the ritual sphere as a domain for exercising authority by regulating and controlling access to it. He instructed that Shia and Sunni must hold their majlis and assemblies separately during Muharram and advised his followers to contest tabarra with reciting madh-e-sahaba.156 The action was taken to debar Sunnis from joining Muharram processions which had quite a lot of visual richness for them.157 The Muharram processions had the potential to become flashpoints of sectarian conflict; they had long attracted Sunni participation. In a manazara held at Bagh (Azad Kashmir), where Ahl-e-Sunnat ulema maintained a tradition of arranging joint Muharram processions with Shias and other rituals including majalis, at the end the azadari procession was taken out and despite Shia zakir even having recited tabarra (cursing the Caliphs), the Ahl-e-Sunnat ulema did not react. This was primarily because both the Shia and Sunni muftis were the employees of the government, and were following the government’s policy of avoiding sectarian riots and clashes. Allahyar completely disapproved of this tolerance on behalf of Sunni ulema. The Sunni bid to restrict Shia azadari processions (mourning processions) and the tabarra agitation orchestrated and practiced by the Shia, sparked conflict which created a general atmosphere of social estrangement between the two communities in the town. The sectarian antagonism manifested in violent clashes which had become more frequent,

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particularly when their freedom to observe their rituals was usurped. As David Thurfjell maintains: Ritualisation constructs independent agents, but paradoxically, as individuals, they are subordinated in a collective system of thought and action through a process of authorization. In this process they are connected to their community, not only in terms of thoughts and opinions, but also through their emotions in a physical and bodily way.158 With the marginalization of Shias, an aggressive Sunni identity forged itself in the countryside. An identity embedded in the literalist version of sharia which crystallized the sectarian exclusionary discourse. The society had nurtured and nestled plural characters where different sects co-existed without much fuss. However, extraneous factors operating from outside tended to skew that plurality. While commenting on Sunni-Shia antagonism, Justin Jones maintained in his study of Lucknow that the ‘Shia-Sunni conflict should be seen in a minority-majority axis, a result of the numerical, cultural and political hegemony of Sunnis’.159 In 1955 the agitation against Shia azadari resurfaced throughout the country. In Muharram (August 20 – September 19, 1955) azadari processions were either banned by the government or attacked at various places in Punjab.160 As Shias held a number of conventions including the All-Pakistan azadari convention in Lahore on October 22–23, 1955 and Idara Tahafuz-e-Haquq-e-Shia on March 23–25, 1956, demanding the government lifted all bans on azadari. Tahrik-e-Ahl-e-Sunnat mubalighin in reaction launched its own campaign, calling Shia practices unlawful (according to their interpretation of sharia).161 Seeing the rising level of sectarian tensions, the Chief Minister of West Pakistan Muhammad Khan Sahib (October 1955 – March, 1957) formed a Shia-Sunni ‘Reconciliation Board’ in November 1956. In a resolution, Shias gave a declaration to not making any provocative pronouncements against the first three Caliphs, and Sunnis would not condemn the religious ceremonies of Shias.162 Despite these conciliatory attempts by the government, the sectarian tension reached its climax during 1957–58. One factor which contributed significantly to this estrangement was Khawaja Qamarud-din Sialwi’s (sajjada nashin of Sial Sharif Sargodha District) pronouncement of takfiri fatwa on Shias for not believing in Quran and Hadith in December 1957.163 Allahyar established a training institution, Dar-ul-Mubalighin,164 in 1956 on the model of the Sunni school, established for the training of mubaligh and munazir at Lucknow in 1931–32.165 He sought to unite leading Deobandi ulema, including Maulana Ghulamullah Khan, the patron of Deobandi madrasa Talim-ul-Quran in Rawalpindi, Syed Ahmed Shah Bukhari, Maulana Riaz Ashrafi and Mufti Ghulam Samdani, to train students and ulema for polemical debate against Shias.166 The religious controversies between Sunnis and Shias were played out through munazaras (theological disputation). The central point of contestation between Shias and Sunnis was the question of Prophethood which invited

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conflict. The Shia Mujtahids exalted the status of Imams more than the Prophet in ‘Tafseer-e-Murat-ul-Nur’ and ‘Anwar-ul-Nomania’.167 The Shias even denied the baiat at the hands of Hazrat Abu Bakr which usurped Hazrat Ali’s legitimate right to Khilafat, and so they contested the veracity of the religion which the Prophet (pbuh) propagated through his companions (the three Caliphs). According to them, Risalat (Prophethood) and Tauheed (unity of God) had no significance without true obedience of Imam168 In many of the manazras, Allahyar contested Shias when ‘they sought to assert their authority by mis-representing tradition as well as the Quranic verses’ as he claimed.169 To bring the Sunni-Shia polemical tracts, treatises and literature against azadari on a wider scale, a publishing house was established at madrasa Dar-ul-Huda Chokeera (Sargodha District) in 1956 under the patronage of Syed Ahmed Shah Bokhari.170 A Shia journal ‘Sadaqat’ was published by a Shia munazir Muhammad Ismail who, according to Maulana Allahyar, misrepresented the details of munazaras so as to distort the Sunni point of view. To counter the Shia journal, a fortnightly journal Al-Farooq was published on November 1, 1956.171 Both Shia and Sunni ulema made wide use of print, dialectical tone and rhetorical flourish. In the publishing house, the printing of polemical literature against azadari increased considerably. Separate pamphlets and polemical literature helped to construct exclusivist sectarian identities (differences between Shias and Sunnis). These institutions became the flashpoint of agitation. Sunnism was defined in terms of anti-Shiaism, so the one who opposed Shias in categorical terms should define Sunnism. Hence it became a means to anchor Sunni ascendancy. With the publishing of Al-Farooq, Maulana Allahyar’s most prolific writings and books like ‘Tasaneef Iman bil Quran’, Ijad Mazhab-e-Shi’i, Shikast Aida-e-Hussain, Al-Din-ul-Khalis, Tehzir-ul Muslimin, and Hurmat-e-Matim, which were written in response to Shia munazir Maulvi Ismail Gojarvi’s Barahine-Matim172 informed readers, but also print culture made it possible to crystalize sectarian identities with vast quantities of polemics. In August 1957 Allahyar’s widely published treatise ‘Daiaan-e-Hussain wa Qatilan-eHussain ki khana tilashi’ and ‘Shikast-e-Aida-e-Hussain’173 were published in Al-Farooq. He sought to put blame for the murder of Imam Hussain upon the community of the city of Kufa, which triggered trenchant reactions from the Shia side, and subsequently Governor of West Pakistan Akhtar Hussain imposed restrictions on its publication in 1960.174

Conclusion The individual theological orientation of Deobandis and Barelwis constituted sectarian conflict which became the dominant theme of the colonial period. The colonial state remained distant from khanqahs and madrasas as long as the state’s authority was unchallenged. In post-colonial Mianwali, there was a close but intricate relationship between Islam, state and society, which steadily moved from the periphery to the core. Religious groups including Majlis-i-Ahrar,

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Deobandis, Barelwis, Jamaat-e-Islami and Shias were involved in hostile engagements against the state, setting aside their theological differences temporarily. There was a visible resurgence of Islam and its central role in identity formation. Concurrent with this resurgence was a growing desire among ulema for a greater share in the political system. What made them relevant and immensely proactive in politics was the question of a singular Islamic identity, which emerged as a dominant discourse in the politics of Pakistan. Objectives Resolution 1949 was a decisive step towards an Islamic state. It clearly demarcated the difference between Muslims and non-Muslims. This re-definition of Muslim-ness accorded primacy to Khatm-e-Nabuwwat which served as a point of convergence between ulema of various groups, but it had exclusionary overtones for minorities which ultimately resulted in the exclusion of the Ahmadiyya community from the fold of Islam. The ulema, in order to be part of the national narrative of Islamic identity, asserted their authority in exclusively political terms. They developed a consensus on the issue of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat. The political and religious influence of Deobandi ulema was increased during the 1953 and 1974 anti-Ahmadiyya movements; however Barelwi ulema were comparatively more aggressive in religio-political activism in post-colonial Pakistan. Being proponents of shrine-based Islam, Barelwi ulema linked the structures of local politics with the broader concept of Islamic community in British India. This helped them to create a growing space in the modern mosaic of Pakistan’s state structure while being part of the old traditionalist religious culture. Religious and sectarian differences embedded in society precluded the possibility of any consensus on one Islamic vision. The different sects found articulation in rival organizations and parties. This politicization of religion bred intolerance. The sectarian conflicts expressed through the pulpit of mosque and madrasa combined into a centrifugal backlash to oppose any attempt at unity between various religious groups. With the increasing religiosity, there was an explicit religious change, the narrowing down of Sufi space in the Deobandi ranks. Sharia-oriented Islam, which sought to forge a consensus between ulema and Sufis to gain their political objectives, was built on existing sets of ideas which had primordial attachments to shrine-oriented beliefs and practices. The older beliefs and sectarian differences acted as primordial and contrary pulls against the consensus. Integrating the older and newer ideas created a modernity which was full of tension and ambivalence, what Sanjay Joshi has termed ‘fractured modernity’.175 The process of exclusion did not stop here. The legitimacy of Shias as Muslim also became suspect as they also did not fit in the narrow paradigm of Muslim-ness defined by the Khatm-e-Nabuwwat ideology. With the marginalization of Shias, an aggressive Sunni identity forged itself in the countryside. In this sense, sectarianism became an agent of religious change in Chakrala. Urban text-based religious identity and ‘reforming styles of religious life’ was introduced in the region where local forms of religious beliefs and practices were followed..176 From 1960 onward Allahyar devoted himself to his Sufi-inspired reformist movement and left the anti-Shia munazara

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activities to Dar-ul-Mubalighin. However, the real reason was the relative calm on the sectarian front from 1959 to 1962 under Ayub Khan’s regime. Ayub’s vision of rebuilding Pakistan’s polity and society on modern lines and to prevent an obscurantist view of the mullah from prevailing shifted the politico-religious tilt towards a middle course of Islam – mysticism.

Notes 1 Acknowledgement: The first publication of the last section of this chapter was in the form of an article titled ‘Grounding Sectarianism: The End of Syncretic Traditions’, Journal of Research Society of Pakistan, 55, No. 2 (2018), 131–8. Farzana Sheikh argues that contradictory expectations in Pakistan gave rise to ambiguities. One idea was of a universal Islamic community. The other emphasized a Muslim ‘nation’ whose so-called ‘communal’ political and economic interests were territorially bounded. This ambiguous relationship between Islam and territorial nationalism, propounded by Muslim intellectuals like Muhammad Iqbal (1877–1938) and Hussain Ahmed Madani (1879–1958), is confounded. See Farzana Shaikh, Making Sense of Pakistan (London: Oxford University Press, 2009), 3–5. 2 The passage of the Objectives Resolution in 1949 has been an important event which the ulema celebrated as a significant milestone in the history of Pakistan. Its importance was considerably enhanced when, in subsequent years, the Objectives Resolution was made the preamble of the Pakistani constitution. See Dieter Conrad, ‘Conflicting Legitimacies in Pakistan: Study of Objectives Resolution (1949) in the Constitution’, in Legitimacy and Conflict in South Asia, Subrata K. Mitra and Dietmar Rothermund, eds. (Delhi: Manohar Publishers, 1998), 127. Charles Kennedy, ‘Towards the Definition of a Muslim in Islamic State’, 87. Also see Leonard Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan (Berkeley, CA: and Los Angeles, 1963). 3 Vali Reza Nasr, ‘The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan: The Changing Role of Islamism and the Ulema in Society and Politics’, Modern Asian Studies 34, No. 1 (2000); Qasim Zaman, ‘Sectarianism in Pakistan: The Radicalization of Shii and Sunni Identities’, Modern Asian Studies 32, No. 3 (1998). 4 See Muhammad Munir, From Jinnah to Zia (Delhi: New Era Press, 1981), 30. 5 A strong group of Deobandi ulema under the leadership of Shabir Ahmed Usmani supported the ideology of the Muslim League and the demand for Pakistan. Idrees Kandhalvi, Zafar Ahmed Thanwi, Jamil Ahmed Thanwi, Khair Muhammad Jullundari and Mufti Muhammad Shafi issued fatwa (religious decrees) against composite nationalism. See John. L. Esposito, John. O. Voll, Islam and Democracy (New York: Oxford University Press, 1996), 36. For composite nationalism, see Barbara Metcalf, Hussain Ahmed Madni: The Jihad for Islam and India’s Freedom (Oxford: One World Publications, 2009). 6 Munir, From Jinnah to Zia, 36. Also see Conrad, ‘Study of Objectives Resolution (1949) in the Constitution’, 127. 7 M. Ali Jullundri as its Nazim-e-Aala (secretary), Qazi Ehsan Shujabadi, Lal Hussain Akhtar, M. Hayat and Taj Mehmud as its important members. Master Tajudin and Shaikh Hisamudin were given the task of managing Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam. See Ayesha Jalal, The State of Martial Rule: The Origins of Pakistan’s Political Economy of Defence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 152; and the Munir Enquiry Report, see Allah Wasaya, Tahrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat. 8 Ahmadiyya Jamaat emerged as one of the several responses to colonial modernity in the second half of the nineteenth century by its founder Mirza Ghulam Ahmad (1835–1908). He claimed to be a prophet (nabi), and because of his

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Sectarianism and religious exclusion deviationist heterodoxy, he stirred up many controversies. Francis Robinson sums up the major differences between Ghulam Ahmad and other ‘Sunni’ Muslims in three points: Ghulam Ahmad’s insistence that ‘the only appropriate Jihad was not war but missionary work’; his claim to be ‘the resurrected Jesus’ in contravention of the New Testament and the Quran; and his repudiation of the finality of prophet-hood. The last of his claims was deemed, as Leonard Binder states, not ‘merely heresy, but an insult to Muhammad’. See Report of the Court of Inquiry constituted under Punjab Act II of 1954 to enquire into the Punjab Disturbances of 1953 (Lahore: Government Printing Press, 1954), 187. Also see Yohanan Friedmann, Prophecy Continuous: Aspects of Ahmadi Religious Thought and its Medieval Background (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1989). Muhammad Iqbal, Islam and Ahmadism, www.koranselskab.dk/profiler/ iqbal/ahmadism. htm. Allah Wasaya, ed., Radd-i-Qadianiat: Ahtasab-i-Qadianiat (Multan: Alami Majlisi-Tahafuz-Khatam-i-Nubuwwat, 2001), 192. Shabbir Ahmed Uthmani, ‘As Shahab lr Rijam al Khatif al Martab’, in Radd-i-Qadianiat, Wasaya’, ed., 192–215. For a detailed study of Ahmedya movements, see Spencer Lavan, The AhmadiyahMovement: A History and Perspective (Delhi: Manohar Book Service, 1976); Antonio Gualtieri, The Ahmadis: Community, Gender, and Politics in a Muslim Society (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2004); Simon Ross Valentine, Islam and the Ahmadiyya Jamaat: History, Belief, Practice (London: Hurst and Company, 2008). Also See Ali Usman Qasmi, The Ahmadis and the Politics of Religious Exclusion in Pakistan (London: Anthem Press, 2014); Francis Robinson, ‘Prophets without Honours? Ahmed and the Ahamdiyya’, History Today 40, No. 6 (1990). The power elite of Pakistan had resorted to an Islam-based polity after the passing of the Objectives Resolution. The Objectives Resolution committed Pakistan to a greater Islamization and subsequent state policy culminating in the constitution of 1956, which further solidified this tradition. Vali Reza Nasr, ‘The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan: The Changing Role of Islamism and the Ulema in Society and Politics’, Modern Asian Studies 34, No. 1 (2000); Tahir Kamran, ‘The PreHistory of Religious Exclusionism in Contemporary Pakistan: Khatam-e-Nabuwwat (1889–1953)’, Modern Asian Studies 49, No. 6 (2015), 20. Suleiman Nadvi (1884–1953), a known religious scholar, was also invited from Lukhnow to the Board. The members of the Board were Mufti Muhammad Shafi, Prof. Abdul Khaliq (Independent Member of East Pakistan Legislative Assembly), Mufti Jaffar Hussain (Shia mujtahid), and Zafar Ahmed Ansari as Secretary of the Board. Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan, 161. Ibid., 160. Muhammad Munir, Report of the Court of Inquiry Constituted under Punjab Act II of 1954 to Enquire into the Punjab Disturbances of 1953 (Punjab: Superintendent Government Printing, 1954), 75; and Nasr, The Vanguard of the Islamic Revolution: The Jamat-i-Islami of Pakistan (London: I.B. Tauris, 1994), 123. Ibid. Interview with Prof. Zia-ud-Din Niazi, Mianwali, 17 May, 2017. Sumbal, Saadia. ‘Tribal Configuration of Mianwali District: A Study in Colonial Dispensation’, M Phil dissertation, Government College University Lahore, 2008, 66–7. Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 34. Ibid., 79–84. Ibid., 118. Bayly, The Birth of Modern World 1780–1914, 172. Duties on agricultural output are called ‘Ushr’, i.e. the tithe. It is not levied on landed property, only on agricultural output. Ushr was compulsory only for

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those who produced crops above the level of subsistence. See Jamal Malik, Colonialization of Islam: Dissolution of Traditional Institutions in Pakistan (Lahore: Vanguard Books, 1996), 88–91. Interview Maulana Abdul Jalil, Khateeb Madrasa Tablighul Islam, April 24, 2017. Liaqat Niazi, Tarikh-e-Mianwali, 78. Development Statistics of the Punjab, Government of the Punjab Planning and Development Department, Bureau of Statistics, Lahore, November 1972 and 1977. Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan, 161. Majlis-e-Ahrar, a predominantly Punjab-based religio-political party with socialist inclinations, grew out of the Khilafat movement and was associated with Congress. Ahrar’s opposition to the Ahmadiyya community dates back to the days of British India. Ahmedi involvement in the movement for Muslim rights in Kashmir intensified Ahrar’s opposition to the Ahmadiyya community. This controversy re-emerged when ulema from East Punjab and the United Provinces migrated to Lahore. It pushed the Ahmedi controversy into the locus of national politics. AtaUllah Shah Bukhari, Master Tajudin, and Hussamudin migrated to Khangarh (District Muzaffargarh), Faisalabad and Lahore. Munir Enquiry Report, 19. Jalal, The State of Martial Rule, 152; and Munir Enquiry Report. M. Ali Jullundri as its Nazim-e-Aala (Secretary), Qazi Ehsan Shujabadi, Lal Hussain Akhtar, M. Hayat and Taj Mehmud as its important members. See Allah Wasaya, Tahrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, 89. See Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan, 260. Khan Muhammad was born in 1920 in the village of Muaza Dung in Mianwali District. He was Abu Saad’s cousin, and belonged to Tilokar Rajputs, an affluent agriculturist family. He received his initial religious education from Darul-ulum Azizia Bhera from Zahoor Ahmed Bugvi, after that he went to Jamia Islamia Dhabel, where Yousaf Banori was one of his mentors. In 1943, he completed his daura-e-hadith and tafseer from Deoband under the tutelage of Hussain Ahmed Madni. Khan Muhammad was initiated into four major silsilas with Maulana Abdullah. He joined the (Yousaf Banuri group), though he never evinced any interest in electoral politics. He developed his connection with JUI through Ghulam Ghaus Hazarwi and Mufti Mehmud (1919–1980) who had spiritual allegiance with khanqah Sirajia Mianwali. See Mujala Safdar, Vol. 1 (Gujrat: Mazharia Darul Mutalia, Haq Chaar Yaar Academy), 62–3. Mufti Mehmud received khilafat from khanqah Yasin Zai at Paniala which had a spiritual link with khanqah Musa Zai (D. I. Khan) and khanqah Sirajia. See Mujala Safdar, 62–3. Ibid., 427. Nazir Ahmed, Hazrat-e-Karam Naqshbandia (Kundian: Khanqah Sirajia, 2010), 56. Ataullah Shah Bukhari, Muhammad Ali Jullundri, Lal Hussain Akhtar and Ghulam Ghaus Hazarvi. See Allah Wasaya, Tehrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat 1974, Vol. 3 (Multan: Majlis-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat Hazuri Bagh, 1995), 423. Kamran, ‘The Pre-History of Religious Exclusionism’, 31. Abul Hasnat Qadri was the prayer leader of Masjid Wazir Khan and an important leader of the Barelwi political party, Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Pakistan and Hizb-un-Ahnaf. See Monthly Lolak, Multan: Idara Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, 2010, 93. The formation of Mianwali Majlis-e-Amal consisted of Mian Asghar Ali, Maulana Ali Muhammad, and Khan Zaman, who were in charge of the main city. The rest were in charge of the constituencies in their locale, Khawaja Khan Muhammad (Khanqah sirajia) in Kundian, Sahibzada Zainuddin Tarag in Esa Khel, Sufi Abdur Rehman in Chakrala, Musa Khel and Maulana Gulzar at Bhakkar. See Nazir Ahmed, Hazrat-e-Karam Naqshbandia, 89.

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37 The parties to whom the invitation was extended were: Jamiyat-e-Ulema-ePakistan, Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Islam, Jamat-i-Islami, Tanzeem-i-Ahl-e-Sunnatwal-Jamaat, Jamiat-i-Ahl-e-Hadith, Motamar-i-Ahl-e-Hadith, Punjab, Idara-iTahafuz-e-Haquq-e-Shia, Punjab, Safinat-ul-Muslimeen, Hizbollah, East Pakistan, Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, Majlis-e-Ahrar, Jamiat-ul-Falah and Jamiat-ul-Arabia. Report of Court of Inquiry, 79. 38 The members of Central Majlis-e-Amal were: Master Tajuddin, M. Ali Jullundri (Ahrar), Mufti M. Hassan (Deobandi), Abul Hasnat (Barelwi), Daud Ghaznavi (Ahl-e-Hadith), Amin Ahsan Islahi (Jamat-i-Islami), Hafiz Kifyat Hussain, Muzafar Ali Shamsi (shi’i), Qamruddin Sialwi, Pir of Golra Sharif (Barelwi), Sheikh Hassamudin, Abdul Halim Qasmi, Muhammad Tufail, Muhammad Bakhsh Muslim and many more. See Ali Usman Qasmi, The Ahmadis and the Politics of Religious Exclusion in Pakistan (London: Anthem Press, 2014), 61. 39 As a reaction against the controversial speech of Zafrullah Khan, the foreign minister of Pakistan in a Ahmedi jalsa (public gathering) of May 17–18, 1952, the ulema and religio-political parties organized an all-parties conference under the impetus of a known Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat which demanded that the Ahmedis should be declared non-Muslims. Ibid. 40 Wasaya, Tehrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, Vol. 1, 87. 41 Ibid., 156. 42 Confidential letter of Deputy Inspector General of Police CID, No. 168-st (Hs)/ 52; and Confidential letter of Deputy Commissioner, No. 3–2-H-SPl I/81 43 Confidential Letter of Chief Secretary, Punjab Civil Secretariat Home Department, D. O No. 176-ST (HS)/52, June 28, 1952; and Confidential Report of Deputy Inspector General of Police (CID) Punjab to district magistrates and superintendent No. 7656–88-BDSB, July 9, 1952. 44 The communiqué targeted Zafarullah Khan whose removal was demanded by Majlis-e-Amal on the pretext that he was using his authority to assist the Ahmadi mission abroad. See Qasmi, The Ahmadis and the Politics of Religious Exclusion, 94. 45 Ibid., 132. 46 Ibid., 95. 47 See Report of the Court of Inquiry, 129. 48 The members of the committee were: Mian Asghar Ali, Pir Shah Alam Shah, Maulana Ramzan, Maulana Gulzar, and Sufi Muhammad Ayaz. 49 Wasaya, Tehrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, 432. 50 Ibid., 442. 51 Those who were arrested: Master Tajuddin, Sahibzada Faiz-ul-Hassan, Muzafar Ali Shamsi, and Abdul Hasnat Qadri, 52 Muhammad Qasim Zaman, Islam in Pakistan: A History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2018), 170. 53 Qasmi writes that Maududi’s argument was that intelligentsia and the public at large did not understand the rationale for the demands made against the Ahmadis; see Qasmi, The Ahmadis and the Politics of Religious Exclusion. 54 Niazi maintained that according to Ataullah Shah Bukhari, an agreement had already been reached between Maududi and Central Majlis-e-Amal on direct action, but later Maududi repudiated it; see Ashraf Tanvir, Mein Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi (Lahore: Atishfishan Publications, 1991), 30. 55 Niazi maintained that according to Ataullah Shah Bukhari, an agreement had already been reached between Maududi and Central Majlis-e-Amal on direct action, but later Maududi repudiated this. See Sadiq Qasuri, Mujahid-e-Khatm-eNabuwwat-Ghazi-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat (Qasur: Mujahid-e-Millat Foundation, 2008); see Interview of Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi in Sadiq Qasuri, Nigarshat-eMujahid-e-Millat (Qasur: Mujahid-e-Millat Foundation, 2010).

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56 As President of Punjab Muslim Students Federation, Niazi led a group within the student movement that came to be known in the late 1930s as the ‘Khilafat-ePakistan Group’. It was named so because of a proposal for a Muslim state, submitted to Jinnah. It was converted into a new political party which existed from 1951–1970. Abdul Sattar Niazi was nominated its President and elected as member of Punjab Assembly from Tehrik-e-Khilafat-e-Pakistan in 1951. Later, in 1971, Tehrik-e-Khilafat-e-Pakistan was merged with Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Pakistan. See Sadiq Qasuri, Mujahid-e-Millat, Vol. 2 (Lahore: Umair Publishers, 1997), 30–1; Gilmartin, Empire and Islam, 208. Also see Monthly Lolak, 2010, 78. 57 Tanvir, Mein Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi, 30. 58 For Sufis and politics, see Katherine Pratt Ewing and Rosemary R. Corbett, Modern Sufis and the State: The Politics of Islam in South Asia and Beyond (New York: Columbia University Press, 2020); also see Umbar Bin Ibad, Sufi Shrines and the Pakistani State: The End of Religious Pluralism (London: I.B. Tauris & Co., 2019). 59 He issued this statement after his discussion with his close associates Ibrahim Ali Chishti and Hakim Anwar Babri; they feared that the movement would soon be consigned to obscurity. See Tanvir, Mein Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi, 30. 60 Nasr, Islamic Leviathan, 24. 61 Peter Mandaville, Global Political Islam (New York: Routledge, 2007), 78. 62 Olivier Roy, Globalised Islam: The Search for a New Umma (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), 58. Also see Guilain Denoeux, ‘The Forgotton Swamp Navigating Political Islam’, Middle East Policy 9 No. 2 (2002), 56; and M. Ayoob, The Many Faces of Political Islam: Religion and Politics in the Muslim World (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan, 2008), 8. 63 Najeeb A. Jan, ‘The Meta Colonial State: Pakistan, the Deoband Ulema and the Biopolitics of Islam’, PhD dissertation, University of Michigan, 2010, 222. 64 Syed Muhammad Yousuf Banuri was born on 4 Rabi-ul-Saani 1326 AH, corresponding to the year 1906 AD, in the small village of Banur, Peshawar. His lineage connects with a renowned Sheikh of the ‘Naqshbandiyyah’ Order, Syed Adam Banuri. His Father, Syed Muhammad Zakriya Banuri was a well-known religious scholar and trader. Yousaf Banori received his early education in Peshawar and Kabul, he went to Darul Uloom Deoband, completed his ‘Dora-eHadith’ at Jamiah Islaamia. Hussain Ahmad Madani, Ashraf Ali Thaanawi, Muhammad Shafiuddin Nageenwi Muhaajir Makki and Maulana Muhammad Zakariyya are the leading names from whom he benefitted the most. He joined the Madrasah Jamiah Islamia at Dhabel as ‘Sheikh-ul-Hadeeth’ and served till 1947. He opted to settle in Pakistan and joined Darul Uloom at Tando Allahyar, Sindh, as ‘Sheikh-ut-Tafsir’. He died in 1977 and was buried in the precinct of Jamiat-ul-Uloom-ul-Islamia, Binori Town, which he founded. See Wasaya, Tehrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwat, 10. 65 Zaman, Islam in Pakistan: A History, 173 66 Sadia Saeed, ‘Politics of Exclusion: Muslim Nationalism, State Formation and Legal Representations of the Ahmadiyya Community in Pakistan’, PhD dissertation, University of Michigan, 2010, 216. 67 Ibid. 68 Ibid., 363. 69 Asad Ahmed, ‘Adjudicating Muslims: Law, Religion and the State in Colonial India and Post-Colonial Pakistan’, PhD dissertation, University of Chicago, 2006, 133. 70 Ashraf Tanvir, Main Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi, 31. 71 Kamran, The Pre-History of Religious Exclusionism, 333 72 Lahore High Court Act 1954, cited in Saeed, Politics of Exclusion, 181. 73 See Saeed, Politics of Exclusion.

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74 Sayyid A. S. Pirzada, The Politics of Jamiat Ulema-e-Pakistan, 1971–77 (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2000), 14. 75 The prominent ulema in the assembly were Mufti Mehmud, Shah Ahmed Noorani, Ghulam Ghaus Hazarvi, Abdul Haq, Maulana Abdul Mustafa Azhari and Maulana Abdul Hakeem. 76 On May 29, 1974, a group of students from Nishtar medical college were attacked by Ahmedis armed with sticks, pistols and daggers at Rabwa railway station to avenge the insult of their spiritual leader. At various university campuses, Ahmedi students were forcibly thrown out of their hostel rooms, Ahmedi shopkeepers received threatening calls, and indeed enraged crowds stormed and burnt some Ahmedi shops. See The Dawn, Karachi, June 23, 1974. Also see Wasya, Tehrik-eKhatme-Nabuwat, 265; Qasuri, Mujahid-e-Millat, 45; Lolak, Vol. 11, 2010, 78; Abdul Rehman Yaqub Bawa, ed,. Parliament Mein Qadiani Maqadama (London: Khatam-e-Nabuwwat Academy, 2010), 10–11. 77 Saeed, Politics of Exclusion, 23. 78 The other members were Prof. Abdul Ghafoor and Ghulam Jilani from JI, Mufti Mehmud and Obaidullah Anwar from JUI, Abdul Sattar Taunsavi from Tanzeem Ahl-e-Sunnat wa Jamaat, Maulana Siddiq from Ahl-e-Hadith, Muzafar Ali Shamsi from Idara Tahafuz Haqooq-e-Shii, Abu Zar Bukhari from Ahrar, Shorish Kashmiri, from Qadiani Mahasaba Committee. See The Nawa-i-Waqt, Lahore, June 10, 1974. 79 Nasr, Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan, 171. 80 Zaman, Islam in Pakistan, 176. 81 Muhammad Hamid Siraj, Hamarey BabaJee Khawaja Khan Muhammad (Rawalpindi: Alfateh Publications, 2014), 56 82 The meeting was attended by Niazi, Shorish Kashmiri, Maulana Obaidullah Anwar, Ihsan Illahi Zaheer Fazl-ul-Haq, Muzaffar Ali Shamsi, and many more. Sadiq Qasuri, Khutbat-e-Mujahid-e-Millat, 45; also see Wasaya, Tehrik-e- Khatm-eNabuwat, 176. 83 Ibid., 74. 84 Members of the meeting were Khan Muhammad, Abul Sattar Niazi, Shah Ahmed Noorani, Mufti Mehmud Maulana Taj Muhammad, Shorish Kashmiri, Obaidullah Anwar, Sharif Jullundri, and many more. See Wasaya, Tahrik-eKhatm-e-Nabuwat 1974, Vol. 3, 286. Also see The Dawn, Karachi, June 23, 1974. 85 The politicians who attended the jalsa were: Ghulam Hassan Khan Dhandla (MNA), Cap. Ahmed Fawad (MPA), Faqir Abdul Majeed Khan (MPA), Taj Muhammad Khan (MPA), Ameer Abdullah Rokhri (MPA), Malik Muzaffar (MNA), Col. Muhammad Aslam (MPA); see Samreen Haider, ‘Abdul Sattar Khan Niazi: A Political Profile 1937–1970’, MA dissertation, Islamic International University Islamabad, 2016, 67. 86 Wasaya, Tehrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwat, 426. 87 The members of the meetings were: Khan Muhammad, Abdul Sattar Niazi, Mufti Mehmud, Yousaf Banuri, Samiul Haq, Qamaruddin Sialwi, Maulana Taj Mehmud, Abdullah Darkhawsti, Pir Sahib Pagara, Sahibzada Ghulam Moeenuddin Shah Golra Sharif Shah Ahmed Nurani, Ch. Zahoor Illahi, Muzafar Ali Shamsi, and Obaidullah Anwar. See Wasaya, Tehrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwat, 474. 88 After holding 21 in-camera sessions from August 5 to September 7, 1974, the special committee of the house voted unanimously to pass the Second Amendment to the constitution of Pakistan, declaring Ahmadis non-Muslims on September 7, 1974. The special committee of the house met on July 3, 1974. It set up a steering committee which was to consider various proposals, resolutions and suggestions on this issue sent to the secretary of the National Assembly by the public. The steering committee included: Ghulam Ghaus Hazarwi, Mufti Mehmud, Shah Ahmed Nurani, Kausar Niazi, Zafar Ahmed Ansari, and

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89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100

101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109

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Niamatullah Shinwari; see Pirzada, The Politics of Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Islam, 123. Article 260 was amended to incorporate a definition of a non-Muslim: A person who does not believe in the absolute finality of the Prophet-hood of Muhammad (pbuh), the last of the Prophets, or claims to be a Prophet in any sense of the word after Muhammad (pbuh), or recognizes such a claimant as a Prophet or a religious reformer, is not a Muslim for the purposes of the constitution or law. Another amendment to article 106, clause 3 dealt with adding reserved seats for Qadiyani and Lahori groups mentioned by name in the provincial assemblies. Section 295 (a) of the Pakistan Penal Code was amended: it was made punishable for a Muslim to propagate views against the concept of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat. See Qasmi, The Ahmadis and the Politics of Religious Exclusion, 212. Also see Proceedings of the Special Committee (September 7, 1974), 3075. See Pakistan Times, Lahore, September 8, 1974. The Dawn, Karachi, September 8, 1974. Zaman, Islam in Pakistan, 177. Ahmed, Adjudicating Muslims, 123. Ashfaqullah Wajid, Merey Khalil (Lahore: Maktaba Sirajia, 2009), 45. New centres of Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat were inaugurated at Haiderabad, Kotri, Sargodha, Talhi, RahimYar Khan, Lahore, Quetta, Zoab and Faisalabad. Nazir Ranjha, Sahaif-e-Murshadia, 78. Weekly Lolak was initiated by Maulana Taj Mehmud in 1964, which became a mouthpiece of Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwwat, published from Hazuri Bagh Road, Multan. See Hamid Siraj, Hamarey Baba Jee, 270. Ahmed, Adjudicating Muslims, 142. Ibid., 135. Ibid., 5. Ibid., 6. Iftikhar Malik, ‘Religious Minorities in Pakistan’, in Minority Rights Group International Report, Issues 94–5. London: Minority Rights Group International, 2002, 20. Zaman, ‘Sectarianism in Pakistan’, 715 Mumtaz Ahmad, ‘Revivalism, Islamization, Sectarianism and Violence in Pakistan’, in Pakistan 1997, Craig Baxter and Charles H. Kennedy, eds. (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1998). Cited in Nasr, ‘The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan’, 150. Wasaya, Tehrik-e-Khatm-e-Nabuwat, 464. Memo No 4265/HC issued from Superintendent of Police to Deputy Commissioner, May 22, 1968. Tariq Rehman, ‘Madrasas the Potential for Violence in Pakistan?’ in Madrasas in South Asia: Teaching Terror? Jamal Malik, ed. (London: Routledge, 2008), 72. Nasr, ‘The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan’, 150. Also see Zaman, The Ulema in Contemporary Islam: Custodian of Change (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2002), 179; Zaman, Islam in Pakistan. Olivier Roy, The Failure of Political Islam (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994), 29. Confidential letter of Assistant Deputy Sub-Martial Law Administrator Mianwali, No. 17–20/G, May 12, 1964. Memo No 35-C/HC issued from District Magistrate to the Superintendent of police, March 1, 1965. Confidential letter of Superintendent Police to Deputy Commissioner, No. 10104/SB, December 17, 1972. Memorandum from Deputy Commissioner Mianwali to Assistant Commissioner, No. 455/C/HC, May 26, 1968.

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110 Frederic Grare, ‘The Evolution of Sectarian Conflicts in Pakistan and the Ever Changing Face of Islamic Violence’, Journal of South Asian Studies, 30, No. 1 (2007). 111 Isaac Kfir, ‘Sectarian Violence and Social Group Identity in Pakistan’, Journal of Studies in Conflict and Terrorism 37, No. 6 (2014), 457. 112 Javed Iqbal, The Ideology of Pakistan and its Implementation (Lahore: Sheikh Ghulam Ali & Sons, 1959), 57. 113 Alix Phillipon, ‘Sufi Politics and the War on Terror in Pakistan: Looking for an Alternative to Radical Islamism’ in Modern Sufis and the State, Ewing and Corbett, eds., 2020. 114 Ayub established the Auqaf Department in 1959, a branch of the provincial government devoted to the upkeep of endowments and trusts, including shrines and mosques, facilities for pilgrims, and the resolution of disputes over possession of a religious site. The West Pakistan Waqf Properties Rules of 1960 aimed at curbing the power of saints and regulating endowments which were being exploited by sajjada nishins, majawars and ulema. Endowments were to pass into the hands of the state. As a rule only profitable endowments were rationalized. See Jamal Malik, ‘Waqf in Pakistan: Change in Traditional Institutions’, Die Welt des Islams, New Series 30, No. 1/4 (1990). 115 Ibad, Sufi Shrines and the Pakistani State, 104. 116 Confidential Memo Superintendent Police to Deputy Commissioner No. 3-2-H. SPl. I/85. 117 Confidential Memo Superintendent Police to Deputy Commissioner No. 4265/ HC. 118 Naveeda Khan, ‘The Acoustics of Muslim Striving: Loud Speaker Use in Ritual Practice in Pakistan’, Comparative Studies in Society and History 53, No. 3 (2011), 23. 119 Roy, The Failure of Political Islam, 29. 120 Hassan Abbas, Pakistan’s Drift into Extremism: Allah, the Army and America’s War on Terror (London: M. E. Sharpe, 2005), 37. 121 Ibad, Sufi Shrines and the Pakistani State, 115. 122 Memo No. 198/HC, issued by Additional Deputy Commissioner, October 27, 1968. 123 Nausheen Ali, ‘Sectarian Imaginaries: The Micropolitics of Sectarianism and State-Making in Northern Pakistan’, Journal of Current Sociology 58 No. 5 (2010), 740. 124 Malik, Madrasas in South Asia, 293. 125 Rehman, ‘Madrasas the Potential for Violence in Pakistan?’, 67. 126 Memo No. 198/HC, issued by Additional Deputy Commissioner, October 27, 1968. 127 Ian Talbot, Pakistan: A New History (London: Oxford University Press, 2012), 83. 128 Rehman, ‘Madrasas the Potential for Violence in Pakistan?’, 73. 129 Ashok K. Behuria, ‘Shi’i-Sunni relations in Pakistan: The Widening Divide’, Journal of Strategic Analysis 28, No. 1 (2008), 159. 130 Dawat the organ of Tanzim-i-Ahl-i-sunnat said only those who agreed on the definition of Quran and Sunna were Muslims, Shia must proclaim themselves as non-Muslims. See Andreas Rieck, Shias of Pakistan (London: Hurst & Company, 2015), 72. 131 Zaman, The Ulema in Contemporary Islam, 113–14. Afak Haydar, ‘The Politicization of the Shias and the Development of the Tehrik-e-Nifaz-e-Fiqh-e-Jafaria in Pakistan’, in Pakistan 1992, Charles H. Kennedy, ed. (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993). For the Shi’i-Sunni conflict, see Mariam Abu Zhab, ‘The Shia Sunni Conflict in Jhang (Pakistan)’, in Lived Islam in South Asia: Adaptation, Accommodation and Conflict, Imtiaz Ahmed and Helmut Reifeld, eds. (New Delhi: Social Science Press, 2004), 135–48. Nasr, ‘The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan’, 162.

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132 The antagonism between Deobandis, Barelwis, Ahl-e-Hadith, and Shi’is is demonstrated in the polemical debates, and the fatwa controversy exacerbated the inter-sectarian belligerence. See Usama Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism: Community, History and Violence in 19th Century Ottomon Lebanon (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 2000), 53. Also see Reick, The Shias of Pakistan, 90. Deobandi fatawa exacerbated violence against Shias and also against Ahmedis. The theological belief which provokes fundamentalists to kill Ahmedis is takfir. Deobandi theology holds that all other Muslims have a corrupted interpretation of Islam and that non-Muslim religious minorities are kafir. See Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 40–2. 133 Kamran, ‘The Genesis, Evolution and Impact of “Deobandi” Islam on the Punjab: An Overview’, in Faith Based Violence and Deobandi Militancy in Pakistan, Jawad Syed, Edwina Pio, Tahir Kamran and Abbas Zaidi,eds. (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 65. 134 Sheikh, Making Sense of Pakistan, 60. 135 Reick, The Shias of Pakistan, 90; also see Hassan Abbas, ‘Shi’ism and Sectarian Conflict in Pakistan: Identity, Politics, Iranian Influence and Tit-for-Tat Violence’,, Combating Terrorism Center, September 2010, 25. 136 Their campaign met with considerable success until early 1956. The new Federal cabinet in 1954 included I. I. Chundrigar and Iskandar Mirza, among 80 members chosen by the provincial assemblies and electoral colleges for Karachi and Baluchistan. See Rieck, Shias of Pakistan, 73. 137 Nasr, ‘The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan’, 162. 138 Max Weiss, In the Shadow of Sectarianism: Law, Shiaism, and the Making of Modern Lebanon (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2010), 73. The main contention between Shias and Sunnis in manazras was over the first three Caliphs. Sunni recitation of madh-e-sahaba became frequent, so Shi’i opposed through counter recitation of tabarra. 139 Ussama Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism: Community, History and Violence in 19th Century Ottomon Lebanon (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 2000), 53. 140 The detailed account of Maulana Allahyar will be discussed in the next chapter. 141 Chakrala is located 10 miles away from Mianwala-Talagang road; Chakrala was the oldest and largest village in the vicinity, inhabited by a considerable number of the Punjabi Hindu community ‘Chikar’ (surname Chakraborty). The area is mostly inhabited by Awan tribe Chakrala’s first encounter with Islam dated to the thirteenth century CE, when it was conquered by local Muslims with the help of invaders from northwestern tribes. 142 Gazetteer of Mianwali District 1915, 29. 143 Ibid., 23. 144 Awan is a tribe living predominantly in northern, central, and western parts of Pakistani Punjab with significant numbers also residing in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, Azad Kashmir and to a lesser extent in Sindh and Balochistan. Historians describe them as brave warriors, farmers who established themselves as the only influential and powerful groups.. See Christopher Jefferelot, ed., A History of Pakistan and its Origin (London: Anthen Press, 2004), 205. 145 A manazra held in the town of Bagar Sargana was conducted on a controversial religious issue. The presidents were nominated for each contestant. Maulana AlahYar represented Sunni manazir and the Shia contestant was represented by Maulvi Amir Muhammad Taunsvi. Along with them the tribal leaders of both groups were also present. See Abul Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 221. 146 Ibid. 147 Maulana Allahyar belonged to the most dominant Sarjaal tribe of Awans. At times he used to win over his rivals by threats and physical manhandling. When

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157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164

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Sectarianism and religious exclusion a Shia manazir refused to accept a Quranic verse, Maulana attacked him with kicks and punches; when his supporters tried to come to his rescue, maulana’s bodyguard Surkhru Khan fired in the air to settle them. Ibid., 89. Juan Cole, Sacred Space and Holy War: The Politics, Culture and History of Shi`ite Islam (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2002), 11. Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 156. Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism, 52. Nasr, The Rise of Sunni Militancy in Pakistan. Rawafiz is the plural of Rafzi (from the root rafda), an Arabic word used for a person in the army who has deserted the leader. Historically it is a reference to a certain sect who deserted Zayd, the son of Ali when he forbade them to speak against the companions of the Prophet. ‘Subsequently this appellation applied to all persons transgressing in this way’; Edward William Lane, ‘An Arabic-English Lexicon’, Vol 3 (Beirut, 1968), 1121. According to Qamar-ud-din Sialvi, Zeyd was the son of Zain-ul ‘Abideen. See Qamar-ud-din Sialvi, Mazhab-i Shi’a, 39, cited in Tahir Kamran and Amir Khan Shahid, ‘Shari’a, Shi’as and Chishtiya Revivalism: Contextualising the Growth of Sectarianism in the Tradition of the Sialvi Saints of the Punjab’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 24, No. 3 (2014). The term was used by Sunni ulema towards Shia. Generally rafda came to be understood to mean repudiation of the legitimacy of the first three Caliphs. Kamran, ‘The Genesis, Evolution and Impact of “Deobandi” Islam on the Punjab’, 72. Shi’i influence had been central to the efforts of Shah Waliullah and his sons. His grandson Shah Ismail said a true believer would consider the breaking of Tazia as a most virtuous action. See Metcalf, Islamic Revival in British India, 58. Ibid., 89. Sunni recitations of madh-i-sahaba had first been consolidated and introduced as a public recitation among Sunnis in Lucknow in the 1900s. Shias began to express opposition through counter-recitations of tabarra. Following the separation of Shia and Sunni taziya processions and karbala burial sites, the government put restrictions upon the recitation of these phrases, as well as the Shia tabarra cursings upon the same figures. While neither side had welcomed this decision, the Sunni side were especially aggrieved. Many Sunnis maintained that madh-i-sahaba, phrases of praise, were incomparable to the tabarra, words of cursing which far more directly were intended to cause offence. Also see Hardy, The Muslims of British India, 245. Meerten Ter Borg and Jan William Van Henten, Powers: Religion as Social and Spiritual Force (New York: 2010). David Thurfjell, Living Shi’ism: Instances of Ritualization among Islamist Men in Contemporary Iran (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 242. Justin Jones, Shia Islam in Colonial India: Religion, Community and Sectarianism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 198. Razakar, 18/34: 3 (September 8, 1955). Razakar, 19/14: 8 (April 8, 1956). Reick, Shias of Pakistan, 90. Ibid., 96. Madrasat-ul-waizin was opened in Lucknow in 1919. Later, in 1931–32 Dar-ulMublighin was set up in Lucknow to train manazirs against Shi’is and send them for preaching tours. Abdul Shakoor Farooqi became principal of this school. See Jones, Shi’i Islam in Colonial India. Also see Rieck, Shias of Pakistan, 12–13. Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 134. Ibid. Ibid.

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168 Maulana Allahyar, Tehzeer-ul Muslimeen Un Kaid-ul-Kazibeen (Lahore: Madni Kutab Khana, 1959), 158. 169 Allahyar, Iman Bil-Quran (Lahore: Madni Kutab Khana, 1955), 15. 170 Ibid., 129. 171 Ibid., Ahmed Shah Bukhari was the editor of Al-Farooq. . 172 Ibid. Important articles published in Al-Farooq were Masla-e-Imamat, Aiteqadat-e-Shi’I, Nas-e-Shura Al-Jamal Wal Kamal, Mah-e-Muharam and Musalman aur Qar-i-een. 173 The treatise gave historical demonstrations and proofs from famous Shia books like Khulasa Al-Maib that Imam Hussain’s army did not contain soldiers from Northern Arabia or Syria; rather all were from Kufa. 174 Allahyar, Shikast-e-Aida-e-Hussain (Chakwal: Idara Naqshbandia Awaisia, 1955), 10. 175 Sanjay Joshi, Fractured Modernity: Making of a Middle Class in Colonial North India (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001), 21. 176 Ibid., 698. Religious revival and Shariatization lead to sectarianism in Pakistan as it raised the question of whose interpretations of Islam should be adopted as the basis for public policy. See Mumtaz Ahmed, ‘Islamization and Sectarian Violence in Pakistan, Intellectual Discourse’ 6, No. 1 (1998), 18.

5

Deobandi identity and sectarian cleavage

This chapter discusses how the reformist streak, with sharia holding precedence over shrine-based denomination(s), articulated through various Sufi orders, became the principal determinant of Pakistani national identity. One of the defining features of the reformist/scriptural version of Islam was the propagation of exclusion on the basis of sectarian difference. The concept of Khatam-i-Nubuwwat (the finality of Prophethood) became the central postulate of the reformist version, which had manifested in the second half of the nineteenth century. Exclusionary tendencies became more pronounced with the passage of time. Takfiri fatawa therefore kept pouring in denouncing groups and sects adhering to different belief systems as kafirs with impunity. That exclusionism had set in motion the process of ‘othering’ from within Islam. That internecine conflict was the abiding feature of twentieth century Islam, which provides the context to this chapter. This conflict created sectarian divisions in the pluralistic socio-cultural traditions of Chakrala. The chapter is divided into two sections. The first section discusses the sufiinspired reformist movement of Maulana Allahyar Chakralwi1 (1904–84) in Chakrala which arose in response to the preaching and proselytizing activities of Shias and Ahmadis which triggered heated polemical debates or munazaras, which have been discussed exhaustively in the previous chapter. Allahyar’s preaching of the core tenets of Islam in the town created sectarian divisions in the pluralistic religious traditions of Chakrala. Attention is paid to the polemical religious context in which the movement began in the second half of the twentieth century. His Sufi-inspired reformist ideas were articulated through a tablighi jamaat of the Naqshbandiyya Awaisia order which penetrated the armed forces of Pakistan during the military rule of Ayub Khan. The jamaat had a predominantly military client community which acted as a channel to disseminate the reformist message in a Barelwi-dominated region. Religion became an instrument of social exclusion and boundary making between religious categories. The second section of the chapter discusses the interface between Islam and the army, as expressed in the prisoner-of-war camp in India in the wake of the 1971 Indo-Pakistani War. It also shows how the mutual performance of DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-6

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mystical practices by jamaat sacralized the land and created a cohesive moral community of prisoners of war. Allahyar Khan and his jamaat seem to have drawn inspiration from the environment in which religious/sectarian exclusion had become the most widely circulated discourse. The central role of Islam in the newly founded state, not only as the identity marker but as the full-fledged system of the government, came out in the form of a powerful discourse.2 The idea to spawn and profess a singular Islam was redefined by excluding all deviant and un-Islamic elements. In the reformulation of this identity, the passage of the Objectives Resolution in 1949 with an exclusionary overtone for minorities was the first step, which emerged more strongly in 1953 during the constitutional debates.3 It was because of the 1953 antiAhmadiyya movement that religious exclusion became the central plank of Pakistani nationalism.4 The search for an appropriate way to define Islam and Muslims in Pakistan led to the development of exclusionary political discourse which consequently excluded minority groups, particularly the Ahmadis and Shias. The reverberation of this religious exclusion reached all the way to the peripheral district of Mianwali. Allahyar’s Jamaat of Naqshbandiyya Awaisia silsila seemed to have drawn inspiration from the environment in which religious/ sectarian exclusion had become the most widely circulated discourse. The silsila was initiated into the armed forces in 1962, during Ayub Khan’s military rule. Allahyar’s vision of a Sufi as an alim who guided his adherents about the tenets of Islam in conformity with sharia seemed amenable to Ayub’s identification with Sufism. Yasmin Saikia maintains that ‘Ayub Khan wanted to transform men in the barracks into heroes who upheld Islamic identity, so imbuing the army with an unquestionable legitimacy’.5 The influence of religious authorities (ulema who were also Sufis) was considerably enhanced by their growing nexus with Pakistan’s most powerful state institution, the military. The development of Allahyar’s constituency among the armed forces was the outcome of the state’s policy towards Islam. Between 1958 and 1962 Ayub tried to use Islam for socioeconomic and development purposes. He tried to portray Islam as a progressive force and used it to justify his modernization plan. Central to this effort was the appropriation of the right to interpret Islam. He wrested the prerogative of interpreting Islam from the ulema and the religio-political parties and established his own control over Islamic institutions, which were earlier administered by Sufi shrines. These measures were taken under the West Pakistan Waqf (Endowment) Properties Ordinance of 1959.6 Ayub envisaged Sufi saints as propagators of Islam and Sufism in congruence with sharia, whereas customary shrine-oriented Islam represented by sajjada nashin was seen as embedded in heterogeneous traditions.7 Sufism was viewed as rigorous spiritual discipline transmitted from spiritual mentor (Sufi) to the disciple. What suited him was the concept in Sufi tradition that delinked spiritual authority from political leadership, whereas Pir or sajjada nashin had to act as spiritual mediator between man and God. The emphasis of the government was on the conformity of shariat and spiritual growth within the community. The Sufi was seen primarily as an alim whose major function was to educate and guide his followers in the understanding of Islamic law.8

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Allahyar’s reform movement, which had a tangible Sufi orientation, and his jamaat seemed to have drawn inspiration from this exclusionary disposition. The general trend that is reflected in this chapter has been the tenuous relationship between various religious ideologies. These ideologies severely contested each other, but simultaneously they demonstrated accommodation towards each other. In several instances, the Sufis accepted the unequivocal supremacy of sharia, whereas in some cases puritanical ulema like Allahyar embraced Sufi practices. Allahyar, a reformist, had drawn on Sufi symbolism to bolster his legitimacy and public presence.

The jamaat of Allah’s friends: Maulana Allahyar’s reformist movement Theologically Maulana Allahyar had a strict adherence to Quran and Hadith with great resonance in Sufi tradition. The reformatory streak was demonstrated in denigrating the hereditary Sufi leaders, the sajjada nashins, opposing prostration on tombs, the kindling of lamps to predict the future, ecstasy, dance, trance, music and holding urs. His reformist Sufi orientation grew out of deep concerns for identity and normative Islam of Muslim reformers of the twentieth century. He stressed the importance of the conduct of individual Muslims, purifying Muslim society from bida (innovation from the path of Muhammad) and constructing a true Islamic community.9 He had to take tasawwuf into account to establish his reformist ideas in a Barelwi-dominated region. He influenced people by repurposing firm belief in karamat/miracles and cultivated his image as a charismatic figure in direct communication to God and the Prophet. At the heart of this silsila lies the most distinctive feature, the spiritual conversation with the mashaikh (saints) in the barzakh, and seeking guidance from them. This transcendental dimension of his cult which is defined by the power to contact the sacred and the divine established his religious authority and gave his cult an exclusive identity for his followers. The silsila was internally organized in the form of halqa-e-dhikr, in which Allahyar shared with his followers his personal experience with the power of the sacred. A link was formed between the experience of the sacred and the daily problems of his disciples. Their belief in his miraculous powers gave them security and empowerment. The halqa-e-dhikr was concerned with the mutual power relationship between a group of dhakirin and the larger society of which it was part. These halqa-e-dhikrs took a formal shape as jamaat of dhakirin in 1960. From 1960 onwards, the jamaat of dhakirin became the main instrument for the dissemination of his reformist ideas10 in response to Shia missionary activities. It was quite similar to the establishment of the tablighi jamaat of Maulana Ilyas which was launched in the context of emerging tablighi initiatives, mainly in the wake of the Shudhi movement in 1920. However, Allahyar asserted that he was motivated by the guidance of divinely inspired dreams and visions.11 This was a belief in Naqshbandiyya Awaisia silsila,12 that all decisions were made in the barzakh by the Prophet and mashaikh. The preaching (tabligh) and the organization of jamaat was

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portrayed as a divine inspiration, as Allahyar claimed that the Prophet instructed him to form a jamaat of dhakirin, and so he called it a jamaat of Allah’s friends, which is the last jamaat of Auliya (Allah’s blessed people) and the people of this jamaat would continue to exist until the times of Imam Mehdi.13 This idea of millennialism, the silsila’s consistent interest in the end of this world, the Mehdi and the ‘sign of the hour’ are the distinctive features of the Awaisia Sufi order.14 In doctrinal terms his jamaat, like tablighi jamaat15 of Maulana Ilyas (1885–1944) represented Hanafi Sunni Islam; however it was open to all schools of fiqh. The jamaat propagated a message of puritan reformist Islam spawned by Darul-Ulum Deoband along with Sufiinspired rituals, i.e. tasawwuf (the act of being a Sufi). The point can be elaborated further by furnishing Reetz’s argument, ‘Barelwis aggressively deny the tablighis, their Sufi antecedents, and brand them as Deobandi or even Wahhabi outfit’.16 Reetz maintains that tablighi leaders in Pakistan, acting as shaykh, initiated their disciples in their favourite silsila (order).17 Unlike tablighi jamaat, Allahyar essentially identified himself with Naqshbandiyya Awaisia silsila and never gave a mass baiat in the congregation; only a selected few were presented before the Prophet for baiat with his soul.18 Like other tablighi activists, his jamaat did not perform ‘gasht’ (patrolling), exhorting people to join the tablighi project; the idea unique to his jamaat and teaching programme was to organize small groups of followers to establish halqa-e-dhikr. Sufi discipline was enforced in the jamaat through halqa-e-dhikr rather than in a Sufi hospice which he never maintained. He himself said, ‘dhikr is the most effective source of guidance’.19 These preaching groups or halqa-e-dhikr included female sections for the instruction of rural women in the proper modes of Muslim religious practice as the Chakrala’s Ahmadi and Shia missionaries had by that time been particularly targeting women folk. The jamaat marked the formal expansion of silsila Naqshbandiyya Awaisia, with halqa-e-dhikr developed across the country, linked to the original centre founded at Manara (Jhelum District) in 1960.20 The first halqa-e-dhikr was established in the districts of Chakwal and Manara and the first women’s halqa-e-dhikr comprising one hundred female dhakir was set up in Mohra Kor Chashm in Chakrala in 1962–3.21 The jamaat’s constituency was mainly the professional groups including religious teachers in madaris, imams and qaris in mosques, professors in the local colleges and ulema. Hafiz Abdur Razzaq, Maulvi Suleiman, Maulvi Fazal Hussain, and Buniyad Hussain Shah were the three prominent ideologues of the jamaat at its initial stage, when it had a limited support base.22 The silsila was spread out as far afield as Baluchistan through the khateeb and imam of mosques. Maulana Abdul Qadir Dairvi and Qari Yar Muhammad established first halqa-e-dhikr in their respective mosques, at Chiltan market Quetta and Dairy Farm Mosque in 1966.23 The jamaat had its expansion with halqa-e-dhikr in Mardan, Peshawar, Gilgit and Azad Kashmir. However, the jamaat had been unable to ensure active participation from the rural masses. One disciple and a main financier of jamaat Akram Awan donated land in Manara District Jhelum, so the central activities of

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jamaat were shifted from Chakrala to Manara, which grew into a permanent centre of silsila and tablighi activity, called ‘Dar-ul-Irfan in 1977’.24 The jamaat with meager economic resources mainly relied on the financial support of the disciples who used to pay their zakat and sadqat into the jamaat’s fund. Importantly, Allahyar refused to accept donations from anyone outside the jamaat because their means of income were not known.25 The dhakirin and their household females also provided their services to the jamaat. The entire jamaat was the manifestation of what Victor Turner called ‘communitas’, providing an arena of close brotherhood in a common spiritual quest.26 One consequence of jamaat had been the awakening of not just ulema but the common people to the need for Islamic reform through halqae-dhikr. Efforts at the systematic preaching and halqa-e-dhikr owe their immediate origins to the fallout of proselytizing activities. The year 1964 proved to be a turning point in the missionary work of jamaat, which expanded exponentially when his book Dalail-ul-Suluk was published on tasawwuf (mysticism) and became an instant success. It was translated into English in 1967 with the title An Objective Appraisal of the Sublime Sufi Path.27 It became a significant source of attracting the cadre of the Pakistan Army, Air Force and Navy to silsila Naqshbandiyya Awaisia.28 Reformed Sufism had tremendous appeal for the educated officers and the subalterns alike.

The introduction of silsila and extension of halqa-e-dhikr in the armed forces of Pakistan The religiosity preached by Allahyar bore a strong sense of protection under his miraculous powers and fortified his relationship with the army, and the military’s support provided protection and legitimacy to his Deobandi theology. He claimed to have access to an esoteric knowledge of the divine through muraqaba and accessed God through the intercession of the Prophet and Sufis (mashaikh). This knowledge was believed to have given him spiritual authority and proximity to God, and enabled him to intercede on behalf of his devotees. Subsequently his mureeds extended unquestioning allegiance to him.29 It was in recognition of this reciprocity that the social ties between the disciples and his own self were formed. The military government of Ayub Khan tried to control Islam through the military and introduced a modern vision of Islam in the barracks; this helped Islam to permeate into the ranks of the armed forces of Pakistan, supported from above. The institutional support from the army constituency linked his silsila to the centre of power. This must be complemented with a perspective from below. Chakrala is situated in the Pothowar region and adjacent to the Salt Range, a belt comprised of military districts, with their terrain and climate quite conducive to producing eligible recruits.30 The common perception is that agricultural underdevelopment and abject poverty drew the people of the area to military service. The rough and tumble of military life and the problems at personal, familial and societal levels turned them

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towards Sufism for the spiritual resolution of their problems. The silsila was initially introduced among non-commissioned officers from towns like Chakrala, Talagang, Chakwal and its surroundings. Hafiz Ghulam Qadri from Chakwal was the first non-commissioned officer who joined halqa-e-dhikr. He established the first halqa-e-dhikr of the Pakistan Army in the mosque of the 502 workshop at Rawalpindi. The dhakirin of the armed forces and the halqa-e-dhikr mushroomed from one cantonment to another. Dhakirin of the 502 workshop were posted to Karachi; they established there the centres of halqa-e-dhikr which extended to various cities of interior Sindh, including Badin. It helped to widen the constituency of disciples, in which Hawaldar Muhammad Saddiq and Sher Ali were prominent. Later on they established halqa-e-dhikr at Infantry School Quetta in 1968.31 Allahyar gave sermons at Juma prayers at the mosque of PNS Himalya during his visit to Karachi and established first halqa-e-dhikr in the Pakistan Navy. A considerable number of officers from East Pakistan were also included in the halqa; Allahyar appointed one officer Muzamil Haq as his khalifa who later on moved to Bangladesh in 1972.32 The integration among the people from rural and urban areas became possible by initiating the officer class into the silsila. Through rural soldiers (mostly non-commissioned), the textual and reformist version of Islam reached rural society. Nile Green has identified how Indian soldiers whose cultural origins were rooted in the rural world of customary Islam and of miracles faced problem in adapting to urban military life under the colonial setup.33 In contrast, in this town of Chakrala, the soldiers with their background of rural customary Islam accepted the Sufi-inspired reformist message as it became compatible with the military government’s agenda of reformulating a composite identity.34 For army personnel during Ayub Khan’s era, class, ethnicity, clan affiliation, education and personal connections had marked significance for career development.35 Their association with the silsila and the miracle working Sufi transformed their lives, which were now structured around the reading and discussion circles of Hadith, dhikr, the invocation of divine names, rather than material things. For the devotee, disciplining of the self through these rituals was the primary concern now. Through these rituals the self of the devotee was disciplined. A synthesis of modern and traditionalist interpretations of Islam could make it compatible with the changing modes of time. Ayub’s attempt to make the army the ‘true protector of the modern vision of Islam and the nation’36 seemed to have made Allahyar more amenable to army officers and subalterns. Such a religious personality as a Sufi who was also an alim to guide his adherents on the tenets of Islam was acceptable to the army. Hence the army emerged as the upholder of the modern vision of Islam and served as a channel to initiate religious orientation guided by principles of reformist Islam in the town. The militarywhich assumed a leading role in Islamization in Pakistan for decades, now became a key agent of Deobandi-inspired ‘shariatized Islam’. It was military constituency as a dominant force which helped Allahyar to develop a sphere of influence. The network of cantonments

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disseminated reformist ideas in the three armed forces of Army, Air Force, and Navy. The silsila extended into the officer class through Lt. Ahsan Baig and Captain Muhammad Hanif, who first joined halqa-e-dhikr in 1968. Both the officers were posted to Risalpur the next year, where they established halqa in the Pakistan Air Force. His influence was greater among the young officers, a few who joined initially were Hadi Hussain Shah, Major Zain-ulAbideen (East Pakistan), Lt. Ghulam Muhammad, Captain Muhammad Ghaus, Captain Muhammad Rafique and Captain Muhammad Umer. Through them the halqas were established in Kakul, Bhimber and Kharian, Gujranwala, Okara and Jehlum cantonments.37 Allahyar personally visited and stayed in cantonments, held majlis and addressed Juma prayers.38 His cult and fame as Sufi had reached far and wide through his prestigious soldierly clientele who had its periodic redeployment in different cantonments of Pakistan. The stories of miraculous rescues and unexpected fortune broadcast by his followers gained currency through the network of cantonments.

Moral community and social solidarity: The jamaat of halqa-e-dhikr in Gaya war camp 1971 The Pakistani Army was engaged in fighting in the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971. After the fall of Dhaka, 93,000 Pakistani soldiers were imprisoned in many of the Indian war camps; one such prisoner-of-war camp was Camp No. 93 in Gaya (Bihar, India).39 The camp was guarded by Indian soldiers from the Hindu Jaat, Sikh and Gorkha regiments. However the sources do not provide information on how many prisoners of war were housed in the camp and how was it managed. The prisoners of war in the camp were traumatized by the humiliating defeat and the loss of East Pakistan, which is clearly reflected in hagiographic narratives. Many soldiers who came to be held in Gaya camp were the disciples of Allahyar. He nominated one of his khalifa, Major Ahsan Baig (b. 1944)40 as their mentor and spiritual leader to organize dhikr sessions in the war camp.41 Thus a halqa-e-dhikr consisting of both officials and soldiers came to be established in Camp No. 93. Allahyar termed the halqa-e-dhikr of imprisoned officers as ‘jamaat Akhuwat-ul-salkeen’ to forge brotherhood among them in that hour of distress.42 He maintained a connection with his imprisoned disciples through letters and correspondence and assured them that only dhikr, training in suluk and spiritual communion (muraqaba) could provide them salvation. The soldier’s life in the camp was structured around prayers, intensive ascetic exercise through dhikr, maraqaba (spiritual communion) an invocation of memory of earlier pious personalities. Dhikr majalis (sittings) also helped them to ease the harshness of the tough and boring camp life of traumatized soldiers and the unpleasant experience of war.43 This seemed a symbiosis between the physical training of a soldier and the ascetic: the former generated outer power through gaining muscle and training the body, and later cultivated inner power through enervating and consuming energy. It was this fusion of inner and outer that united an ascetic and a soldier together.44

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The interface between army and religion found its expression among the soldiers in the prisoner-of-war camp at Gaya. The Sufi cult centred in Chakrala (Pakistan) was extended into Gaya (India). Initially the spiritual practices in the halqa-e-dhik were resisted by the Indian guards of the camp. The camp commander Lt. Col. K. D. Parbhakar declared it a violation of the Geneva convention to assemble near the barb-wired area for dhikr. Later the soldiers moved the dhikr session inside the camp. Considering it a harmless religious activity, the camp commander allowed it to continue.45 There was a paradoxical situation in the war camp in terms of the religious authority of Ahsan Baig as mentor. At one level, some of the senior officers questioned Ahsan Baig’s ‘walaya’ (spiritual status) and balked at accepting his religious authority as he was a junior officer in rank. Allahyar in his letters to officers asserted that ‘you should not entertain any doubt in the perfection of spiritual authority of a person who had the ability to make you visit the barzakh and present you in the court of the Prophet through spiritual communion (muraqaba)’.46 He asserted that they must accept the superiority of the one spiritually elevated, irrespective of rank and position in the army, which indicated that he gave precedence to religiously based spiritual authority over material hierarchy of ranks. The question that arose was about the defining new standards for the exercise of religious authority over the material hierarchy of rank in the military. Reconciling religious authority (which he derived from his status as khalifa in the local religious context) with the hierarchical ranks of the military became quite vexed, and when his religious authority manifested itself in the camp, the question of defining his suitability for religious leadership emerged. Spiritual transformation demands submission and elimination of vanity and pride, which Muhammad Ajmal termed as ‘defensive armour of the ego’.47 Allahyar’s message was to abstain oneself from material desires of ranks and positions, and referred to practicing chastity and refraining from anything in contradiction to sharia. He looked to worldly engagements with considerable distaste and did not consider din and dunya mutually exclusive, making the spiritual as well as this worldly life in accordance with the laws of the din.48 In this sense he proposed a dualistic sociological model of ‘renouncer’ versus ‘man in the world’.49 This vividly indicated that characteristics of Islam in the war camp were patronal and hierarchical. The prisoner-of-war camp was not a world of men, equal among themselves but a hierarchical and segmented society in which religious authority overlapped the military sub-divisions of the regiments and ranks. The major characteristic that emerged from this military environment, vital in shaping Islam in the prisoner-of-war camp, was vertical in character in which patronage was dispersed up and down a clear chain of authority.50 At another level the spiritual activities of jamaat under the mentorship of Major Ahsan Baig created a basis for solidarity and organization of its members which presented a wholly different hierarchy and logic for solidarity and strength than that derived from membership and rank in the Pakistan Army. Ayub Khan’s perception of the army as the true protector of Islam and

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the nation and the upholder of Islamic identity was badly damaged after the defeat in the 1971 war. The war exposed and broke the imposed unity of using religion to construct a singular, homogenized Islamic identity. This showed that Islam alone was not enough to keep diverse ethnic groups wellintegrated. The idea of a singular Islamic identity was replaced by a renewed commitment to creating a humanistic moral community of Pakistanis.51 There was a clear reflection of this moral community in the war camp. The mutual sense of loss and grief combined with the shared mystical practices helped them to forge a moral community based on social solidarity which transcended the official hierarchy of military rank and position. The sepoy world was a limited social environment, restricted to their barracks or war camp. Their inclination to Islam was not an external factor here but developed out of their own insecurities and anxieties during the imprisonment. The soldiers expressed their stress and apprehensions about the inordinate length of imprisonment to Allahyar. He tried to reassure his disciples that he could mediate between the divine and the earthly realms. He claimed that he had been guaranteed by (Sultan-ul-Hind) Moin-ud-din Chishti Ajmeri that ‘the entire jamaat was his own and would remain under his protection; also the jamaat of mashaikh in barzakh would pray for the safety of the soldiers’.52 This Islam lending miraculous aid to soldiers and the holy men surrounding them responded to their apprehensions. Religion helped them to endure situations of emotional stress and provided them escape from such situations.

The sacralising of space: The jamaat of halqa-e-dhikr in Gaya war camp 1971 The Chakrala Sufi cult came to spread in Gaya as part of a process termed by Pnina Werbner as religious spatial ‘conquest’, by sacralising the space, transforming the camp into a space of Allah.53 Sacralisation of space is the essential element of Sufi cosmology. It is not a coincidental feature of Sufi practices. The Sufi sacralises the space when he enters a new land, establishes his lodge and enchants dhikr. In enchanting they not only purify their heart and soul, but also sacralise and ‘Islamicise’ the earth or land (space). Sufi Islam is not only a journey within the body and person or a journey towards God, but also a journey in space. The divine blessings of this jamaat purified the surroundings (spatial dominion). This was an act of human empowerment on the part of a Sufi. In this process, the jamaat sacralized new centres linked to the founding centre and established new regional cults.54 The affiliations between the members of jamaat were primarily spiritual rather than doctrinal. The prisoners of war derived their religious identity from their connection to a chain of saints from Ahsan Baig to Allahyar, located in a sacred spatial network from Chakrala to Gaya. In this sacralized space, Ahsan Baig’s religious authority was embedded. He was seen as blessed with the baraka and had the capacity to change the natural order as well as human society.

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Muslims (officers and soldiers) rooted their religious identity in a new and hostile locality and embodied the moral right of their community to be ‘in’ this new environment. Though a saint retained the unquestioning devotion of his closest disciples, in the end it is the demonstration of his miraculous qualities that epitomized his saintliness for them.55 The halqa-e-dhikr established in the war camp was also joined by some Hindu and Sikh guards (appointed on duty). Ahsan Baig was able to spread his reputation as a spiritual guide and worker of miracles of mysteriously curing the sick, supernaturally warding off monsters among the non-Muslims as well. Non-Muslim soldiers and local civilian residents, Hindus and Sikhs who found the solution to their multiple problems in the protective taweez (amulets) or dum (his exhalation of breath on water to transfer his baraka) and offering of wazaif (prayers) flocked outside the camp.56 Bachan Lal, a Hindu Guard Commander, lost his money along with his pay book, and was afraid that he would be penalized. Ahsan Baig told him through maraqaba that those things were buried behind his tent, from where he recovered his belongings. Prem Das, a section commander of the Jaat regiment, lost his blanket officially issued by his unit. Ahsan Baig through muraqaba revealed the name and the Army number of the thief.57 Inside the halqa-e-dhikr, the religious practices occurred within the confines of sharia, whereas outside the halqa his image as a miracle making holy man benefitted all, blurring the lines between Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs as religious categories. He translated his spiritual ability into a practical power to help people; hence their relationship was based on the cognitive framework of illness and healing.58 Drawing a mutual beneficence by Muslims and non-Muslims from a Sufi was termed by Farina Mir as ‘shared piety’.59 This ‘shared piety’ did not conflict with the individual’s distinctive religious identities but constructed such religious domains which cut across the religious divisions.60 Tulsi Ram, Naik of Indian border security, got an ailment of his wives cured by taking breathed-on water from Ahsan Baig. ‘Ruldu’, a Hindu soldier of the Jaat regiment, came and submitted to him to drive the evil away from his wife and children. Gopal Singh, a soldier from a Sikh regiment embraced Islam as he was impressed and obliged that his amulets (Quranic verses) helped resolve a protracted conflict between his wife and mother.61 Some of these claims may be hard to believe, but the important thing was that the disciples believed them. Supernatural protection became a marketable service. The relationship with the Sufi, whether a rural peasant or a soldier or townsman, was so widespread that it not only reached extended families but across generations. From the prisoner-of-war camp, his spiritual power moved into the domestic sphere of the soldiers’ womenfolk and from there spread widely through the domestic network of relatives, responsible for the maintenance of female and family life.62 Ahsan Baig acted also as guarantor of material prosperity and crucial mediator of social relations. This helped him to gain social prominence in the camp which in turn reconfigured the Sufi-disciple relationship and had a transformative effect on the social life of the surrounding

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villages. Hence the regional cult cut across boundaries and created its own sacred topography by sacralising a new centre, linking it to the founding centre and establishing a new regional cult.63

Relationship with the military clientele The relationship between a devotee and Sufi, like other relationships, was based on a pragmatic model of reciprocity and exchange.64 With his links to a customary Islam of miracle working holy men and to the patronal networks of Sufi affiliation which surrounded them, it is important to know the nature of the service industry that Allahyar controlled and the character of his relationship with the soldiers. The patron-client bond assured the spread of Sufi affiliations. The Sufi was looked on as a practical person, who got things done.65 His saintly charisma contained the mundane and many mutually reinforcing factors.66 The soldier’s life required his religion to protect him from the dangers of travel, protecting him on route marches across the countryside, promotions in his career, the desire for children, and fear of losing his job. All this was central in shaping the Sufi service industry.67 Allahyar’s visit to Quetta during the Staff College course in 1975 and JTCI, OWI tactics course at the Infantry School was very significant when many of his disciples turned to him for his miraculous intervention to aid them in passing their exam, which was competitive and essential for their promotion. After the hectic routine of the day, they held halqa-e-dhikr at night. His assurance that they were successful as they were the members of a jamaat of pious people was an announced victory.68 One of his disciples, Squadron Leader Mohsin Khan, landed his aircraft on the runway without the landing gear extended. The wheels had failed to come out because of some technical fault. The best option to rescue him was to call upon his Sufi protector; he safely landed with his help. The aircraft, filled with fuel, did not explode, despite grinding against the length of the runway.69 This indicated the Sufi’s ability to protect his disciples from a distance. The ability to protect a disciple from a distance was termed by Shahzad Bashir as the ‘hyper-corporeality of the Sufi body’. The Sufi’s body could extend itself beyond the confines of his skin and spread through time and space.70 A substantial number of officers in the Pakistan Navy, particularly from East Pakistan, were members of the jamaat. Prominent among these were Saeed Bangali and Captain Zain-ul-Abideen. Allahyar assured the naval officers of miraculous support against enemy fire in war by reciting ‘Dua-e-Hizb-ul-Bahr’,71 since, after the 1971 Indo-Pakistan War, most of the soldiers were concerned about the possibility of future war. In 1975, Allahyar made startling predictions about the 1979 Soviet-Afghan War and the disintegration of the Soviet Union in Staff College Quetta, when there was not even the slightest sign of such a war. In maraqaba he saw two armed horsemen heading towards Pakistan from the right and left of the Prophet’s pulpit (mimber). Suddenly a wall was erected between Pakistan and Afghanistan. Russian tanks collided against the wall and retreated.

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He predicted the Prophet’s spiritual help and Pakistan’s victory in this war. On hearing this, Major Ghaus put up a large poster in the college, with a statement, ‘Third World War 1979 Russia takes over Afghanistan, World unites to fight Russia, Russia Breaks’. The officers from the United States and United Kingdom Army were amused to read this, asking curiously how he knew about a future war. Allahyar gave further news of victory to his soldier disciples in the expected Ghazwa-e-Hind, the biggest war after 1971. He said Pakistan Army’s General would lead this war and would defeat India; subsequently, Kashmir and Delhi would be conquered, but the General would not live to see his victory.72 Some of the over-excited officers formed an armed wing of soldiers with the title ‘Al-Ikhwan’ led by Major Doctor Azmat Iqbal Butter. The purpose was to prepare young men for Ghazwa-e-Hind. Al-Ikhwan was registered under the political parties act. But it was misused by political parties, and subsequently he dissolved it.73 This showed that Allahyar served as a bridge in daily life between the natural and supernatural. The army became an important patron of Islam: well-respected, well-paid, and well-fed soldiers constituted an influential Muslim religious group and a prestigious clientele. The devotion of soldiers and officers with their social standing elevated the status of a saint.74 The army served as an influential institution to broker exchange between soldiers (disciples) and Sufi (patron).75 The army also served as a source of employment, pride and identity for the soldiers; the prestige and a regular salary shaped the lives of many of its dependents.76 The military influence and privileges also channelled into the khanqah of Allahyar. Substantial sums of money from military personnel in the form of zakat and sadqat were channelled into the construction of madrasas and running the finances of the jamaat. He received help from his military followers, who transported him to the Combined Military Hospital for his ailment in a military helicopter from his native town.77 By using their influence, his officer disciples arranged his sea voyages and air travels to Saudi Arab for Hajj. This does not mean to downplay the sincere ties of affection by which he and his followers were linked.

Conclusion This chapter has explored the unfolding of a reform movement which had local context. Maulana Allahyar, a Deoband alumnus, was stirred into action by the proselytization of Shias and Ahmadis. Deobandis entertained an exclusionary streak from the very outset and both Shias and Ahmadis had been the subject(s) of their condemnation. Dar-ul-Irfan at Manara became an epicentre of puritanical, scriptural Islam which had imbibed spiritual practices so that the local populace could be lured into the fold. However, the primacy of sharia was ardently professed and no such practice/action was permitted which contravened the edicts of sharia. A strict division between a Muslim and a non-Muslim exacerbated the sectarian tendency which was the prime outcome of Allahyar’s reformism as he denied the ideologies and

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epistemologies of other faiths and denominations in which Shias were the most prominent. The movement launched by Allahyar had attained ascendancy during the regime of Ayub Khan who was quite keen to cultivate Islamic identity among the ranks of the Pakistani Army. Ayub sought to portray Islam as a progressive force and used it to justify socio-economic development. The military’s construction of a singular homogenized Islamic identity with the army as its protector and upholder helped Islam to penetrate into the barracks. The army as an influential client community linked the silsila to the power structure. The jamaat’s message reached areas like Chakwal, Jhelum and Mianwali, which were considered military districts, as Allahyar himself was a native of this region. The army men from the martial belt, influenced by the jamaat, helped in expanding its influence in various cantonments all across Pakistan. The halqa-i-dhikr was the most prominent of the performative acts, and through it, the influence of the movement, or jamaat as it was known among its adherents, grew enormously. The dismemberment of East from West Pakistan was a grave blow to the notion of a singular Islamic identity, imposed on diverse ethnic and linguistic groups. The halqa-e-dhikr extended into the war camp at Gaya among the prisoners of war through Major Ahsan Baig. The religious practices in the dhikr sessions helped them to recuperate from the traumatic encounter of war and loss, and consolidated them into a symbiotic coterie. The jamaat increasingly thrived in post-1971 Pakistan as Islam assumed a central niche in the process of national integration. The synthesis of sharia and tariqa marked the distinctive feature of Allahyar’s movement; however, the context in which Allahyar’s movement emerged was antagonistic. The local missionary milieu in which his activities took shape cannot be ignored; the social fallout of his movement drove a sectarian wedge into a society which previously was pluralist in its character. Pluralism usually challenged the religious leadership.78 Allahyar therefore sought to eradicate all symptoms of plurality and difference in the Muslim community. The goal was to draw a clear frontier between Islam and its constitutive ‘other’. The mixture of missionary style, mystical substance and the exclusionary streak made the movement complex. The jamaat’s appeal to ordinary Muslims was its emphasis on the Sufi ethos, but its espousal of sharia generated a discourse that was exclusionary. That said, Allahyar positioned Sufism’s cultural sensitivity and pluralism against the essentialist and purifying logics of Islamic reformism.

Notes 1 Acknowledgement: The first publication of this chapter was in an article titled ‘The Jamaat of Allah’s Friends: Maulana Allahyar’s Reformist Movement and Sacralising the Space of the Armed Forces of Pakistan’, in Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society. 31, 1 (2021). Maulana Allah Yar was born in an affluent landowning Awan tribe, known as Sarjaal Awan, and migrated into Chakrala from Kalabagh. He joined the British police and served as a security guard at Kohat jail, and was soon promoted to the

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position of head of the jail. He resigned from the police. He devoted himself to his religious education which he started in 1925 in Bhera and then Langar Mukhdom (Sargodha District) and Kot Fateh Khan in 1925. From there in 1932, he went to Maulana Syed Ameer (fazil Deoband) at Dalwal (Kalar Kahar, Salt Range) to complete daura-e-Hadith. To undertake studies of Hadith further, he went to madrasa Ameenia Delhi. Mufti Kifayatullah was the patron of the madrasa at that time. Many of the ulema of Deoband were interned or exiled due to Tehrik-e-Reshmi Rumaal and a few escaped into madrasa Ameenia. At madrasa Ameenia, he studied under the tutelage of Anwar Shah kashmiri, Mufti Kifayat Ullah and Maulana Khalil Ahmed Anbethwi. After the accomplishment of his studies, he got training in Unani Tibb from Hakim Ajmal Khan in Delhi and returned to Chakrala in 1935, and started his teaching career from Jamia masjid (Chitti masjid) Chakrala. In 1942 he entered on the path of saluk (spiritual training) in the Naqshbandiyya Awaisia order through the spirit of the Sheikh of the order, Sultan ul-Arifin Khawaja Allah Din Madni, buried in Langar Mukhdum (district Sargodha) 400 years ago. Maulana Allahyar was introduced to Sultan-ul-Arifin by a Sufi of the Naqshbandiyya Mujadidia order, Maulana Abdur Raheem. He then completed the training of suluk till salik-e-Majzubi at the grave of Sultan-ul-Arifin in three years and was appointed sahib-e-majaz by him in 1945. He received training in the next stages of suluk from various Sufis which included Lal Shah Hamadani, Ghaus Bahawal Haq, Abdul Qadir Jillani, Moin ud-Din Chishti Ajmeri. See Abul Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba (Lahore: Awaisia Kutab Khana, 2005). Vali Nasr, The Vanguard of the Islamic Revolution: The Jamaat-i-Islami of Pakistan (London: I.B. Taurus, 1994), 123. Ishtiaq Hussain Qureshi, Ulema in Politics (Delhi: Renaissance Publishing House, 1985), 360–2. Sayyid A. S. Pirzada, The Politics of the Jamiat Ulema-i-Islam Pakistan:1971–1977 (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2000), 9. Leonard Binder, Religion and Politics in Pakistan (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California,1963) The Munir Report refers to the Report of the Court of Inquiry. Also see Ali Usman Qasmi, The Ahmedis and the Politics of Religious Exclusion in Pakistan (London: Anthem Press,2014). Yasmin Saikia, ‘Ayub Khan and Modern Islam: Transforming Citizens and the Nation in Pakistan’, Journal of South Asian Studies 37, No. 2 (2004), 298. Also see for the same argument Stephen Cohen, The Pakistan Army (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1984); Hussain Haqqani, Pakistan between Mosque and Military ( London : Penguin Books, 2016). For a detailed analysis of the Pakistan army see Ayesha Siddiqa, Military Inc.: Inside Pakistan’s Military Economy (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2007)Hassan Askari Rizvi, Military, State and Society in Pakistan (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2000). Mohammad Waseem, Politics and the State in Pakistan (Islamabad: National Institute of Historical and Cultural Research, 1994). Also see Cara Cilano, National Identities in Pakistan: The 1971 War in Contemporary Pakistani Fiction (London: Routledge, 2011), 54. The West Pakistan Waqf (Endowment) Properties Ordinance of 1959 aimed at state control over religious endowments and religious mentors of mosques and shrines, who were closely tied to power structures. The endowments also allowed the state to gain control of welfare and benevolent services that affected the lives of many among the rural population. See Nasr, Islamic Leviathan, 62–3; also see Ewing, ‘The Politics of Sufism; Redefining the Saints of Pakistan’, Journal of Asian Studies 42, No. 2 (1983), 252. Javed Iqbal, the man behind this idea, interpreted Iqbal’s idea of Islam in his book Ideology of Pakistan, emphasizing the ideology of singular Islam adopted by the Muslim League, and criticized pluralistic traditions in Sufi ideas. See Javed Iqbal,

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The Ideology of Pakistan (Lahore: Sang-e-Meel Publishers, 2005). Also see Ewing, ‘The Politics of Sufism’, 267. Ibid. He believed the community’s fortune depended on strict observance of Sharia and complete submission to the Prophet (pbuh). See letters of Maulana Allahyar to Colonel Matloob, August 27, 1971. Maulana Allahyar was deeply indebted to his Naqshbandiyya Awaisia predecessors. His discourses record frequent visions of the prophet, spiritual encounters with Sirhindi, Jilani and Chishti luminaries as Moeen-ud-Din Chishti; he sought guidance in worldly matters from mashaikh in barzakh through his personal experiences and communication, and as a result, the affairs of terrestrial as well as the celestial world are revealed to those who are trained in Sufi path (suluk). This reflected an attempt to bridge the two worlds. The source of his charisma was this unique and extraordinary quality. He strictly followed sharia, with a puritanical reformist approach. See Allahyar Khan Chakralwi, Dalail-ul-Suluk, 17. To study this concept see, Pnina Werbner, Pilgrims of Love: The Anthropology of a Global Sufi Cult (Karachi: Oxford University Press, 2003), 61. The core ideology of Naqshbandiyya Awaisia was predicated on the theory of deriving beneficence from the spirit, both in terms of reception and transmission, termed as the ‘Awaisia’ method. Anyone who developed an intense connection with the spirit of the Prophet (pbuh) and the saint and could derive benefit from this is called ‘Awaisi’. The Naqshbandiyya Awaisia order traces its spiritual lineage from Prophet Hazrat Muhammad (PBUH) Hazrat Abu Bakr Siddique (May Allah be pleased with him) Hazrat Imam Hasan Basri, Hazrat Daud Tai, Hazrat Junaid Baghdadi, Hazrat Obaidullah Ahrar, Hazrat Maulana Abdul Rehman Jami, Hazrat Abu Ayub Muhammad Saleh, Hazrat Sultan-al-Arifin Khawaja Allah Din Madni, Hazrat Maulana Abdul Rahim, Hazrat Maulana Allah Yar Khan, Hazrat Maj.(r) Muhammad Ahsan Baig, Hazrat Syed Bunyad Hussain Naqvi. See Allahyar, Dalail-ul-Suluk, 56 Major Ghulam Muhammad, Murshid Jaisa Koi na Dekha, 12. David, W. Damrel, ‘Aspects of Naqshbandi Haqqani in North America’, in Sufism in the West, Jamal Malik and John Hinnells, eds. (London: Routledge, 2006), 126. A voluntary mass movement founded by Maulana Ilyas in 1927 in the Mewat region around Delhi in northern India. After the British rule ended in India, tablighis spread to all South Asian countries, devoted themselves to preaching, organized in the form of travelling preachers. See Yoginder Sikand, The Origins and Development of the Tablighi-Jama’at (1920–2000): A Cross-Country Comparative Study (New Delhi: Orient Longman, 2002) 4–5. Dietrich Reetz, ‘Sufi Spirituality Fires Reformist Zeal: Tablighi Jama’at in Today’s India and Pakistan’, Archives de Sciences Sociales des Religions, 135, July–September (2006), 34. Ibid., 33. According to Allahyar, it was only after gaining approval from the Prophet (pbuh) that he initiated the tradition of mass bai’at. In Naqshbandiyya Awaisia silsila, spiritual bait was taken at the Holy Prophet’s hands after a seeker covered the initial stages of the path. What was important in this process was that the seeker should see for himself his spirit (ruh) negotiating the initial stages of the path into the audience of the Prophet and accepting bai’at on his sacred hands. Dhikr and suhbat were the cornerstones of Awaisia silsila. See Maulana Allahyar, Dalail-ul-Suluk, 23. Ibid., 45 Ibid., 252. Naqshbandiyya Awaisia Silsila was restored by Maulana Allahyar after a lapse of 500 years, ever since the death of Maulana Abdur Rehman Jami. Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 255.

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22 Maulvi Suleiman was a teacher of Arabic in a local school, Hafiz Abdul Razzaq and Bunyad Hussain Shah worked as lecturers in Islamic Studies at Government Degree College Chakwal and Government Degree College Jhelum, respectively. Suleiman believed the community’s fortune depended on strict observance of Sharia and complete submission to the Prophet (pbuh). Ibid., 178. 23 Ibid., 271. 24 Ibid., 313. The centre would be coupled with the regional centres, working in connection with the centre Dar-ul-Irfan. A department of press and publication was set up which was responsible for dealing with correspondence and the publishing of monthly risala ‘Al-Murshid’. The committee of publication was comprised of Hafiz Razzaq, Col. Matloob, Prof. Buniad Hussain, Prof. Baagh Hussain Kamal, Fazal Akbar, Haji Altaf Ahmed, and Muhammad Hamid. Ibid. 25 Maulana Allahyar never accepted donations from anyone whose source of earning was not legal (halal). See Major Ahsan Baig, Shukr-e-Naimat, 23. 26 Victor. W, Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (London & New Brunswick: Aldine Transaction, 2008). 27 Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 282. 28 Ibid., 324. 29 Bruinessen and Howell, Sufism and the Modern in Islam, 31. 30 Talbot, Punjab and Raj, 44. 31 Ghulam Muhammad, Murshid Jaisa na Dekha Koi, 23. www.awaisiah.com. 32 Ibid., 78. Also see Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 357. 33 Nile Green, Islam and the Army in Colonial India: Sepoy Religion in the Service of Empire (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 13. 34 Yasmin Saikia, ‘Ayub Khan and Modern Islam: Transforming Citizens and the Nation in Pakistan’, Journal of South Asian Studies 37, No. 2 (2014), 295. 35 Baig, Shukr-e-Naimat, 9. 36 The close relationship between the army and the Pakistan government during Ayub Khan’s tenure as president (1958–69) was based on the issues of governance, economic development, foreign policy and constructing a Pakistani national identity. The ideals of nationalism and Islamic identity were emphasised, thus representing the ‘benevolent despotism’. Yasmin Saikia, ‘Ayub Khan and Modern Islam: Transforming Citizens and the Nation in Pakistan’, Journal of South Asian Studies, 37, 2 (2014), 298. 37 Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 358. 38 Ibid. 39 Gaya is one of the 38 districts of Bihar State, India. It was officially established on October 3, 1865. The district has a common boundary with the state of Jharkhand to the south. Gaya was the first and last centre of preaching of Sharfud-Din Yahya Maneri. 40 Major Ahsan Baig was born on August 10, 1944. He initiated into the Naqshbandiyya Awaisia order in 1968. He was the first person to join jamaat from the officer cadre of the Pakistan Army. See Ta’aruf Hazrat Jee Baig Sahib, www.salkeen.org. 41 Baig was not among the prisoners of war. He disguised himself as a prisoner of war and boarded the last ship going to India. He was sent by Maulana Allahyar for the spiritual training of the sepoys and officials in the prisoner-of-war camps. See Rashid Ahmed Jillani, Halaat-e-Aseeri Mein Ahl-e-Allah ki Suhbat, 23. 42 Ibid., 18. 43 Green, Islam and the Army, 43. 44 Ibid., 34. 45 Jillani, Halaat-e-Aseeri Mein Ahl-e-Allah ki suhbat, 23. 46 In a letter to Col. Matloob, he said, from a soldier to a colonel, all are equal to me, all are my spiritual progeny, only with exception to Ahsan Baig, who is my khalifa majaz (who has been ordained the status of khalifa by his shykh) for your

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48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59

60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69

70 71 72

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guidance. He called him, ‘heart of the jamaat’. See Maulana Allahyar’s Letter to Colonel Matloob, July 11, 1973, See, Abdul Rashid, Maktubaat (Chakwal: Idara Awaisia, 1989). It is an armour that fights both against the self of the vain person and against other people. Without eliminating pride and vanity, spiritual transformation is not possible, which is the defensive armour of ego. See Muhammad Ajmal, ‘A note on Adab in the Murshid-Murid Relationship’, in Moral Conduct and Authority: The Place of Adab in South Asian Islam, Barbara Daly Metcalf, ed. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1984), 246. Sikand, The Origins and the Development of the Tabligh-i-Jamaat, 85. William R. Pinch, Warrior Ascetics and Indian Empires (London: Cambridge University Press, 2006) 748. Green, Islam and the Army, 14. Saikia, ‘Ayub Khan and Modern Islam’, 295. Maulana Allahyar’s Letter to his disciple, Captain Khalid Hassan (October 19, 1972) and Captain Hashim Jaan (January 11, 1973) see Rashid, Maktubaat, 1989. Werbner, Pilgrims of Love, 57. Ibid. Ibid., 61. For the relationship between sufi and disciple through amulets, see Mikkel Rytter, ‘Transnational Sufism from Below: Charismatic Counseling and the Quest for Well-Being’, South Asian Diaspora 6, No. 1 (2014), 24. Jillani, Halaat-e-Aseeri Mein Ahl-e-Allah Ki Suhbat, 87. Harjot Oberoi, The Construction of Religious Boundaries: Culture, Identity and Diversity in the Sikh Tradition (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 176. Farina Mir in her work The Social Space of Language used the term ‘shared piety’, which is defined as a form of piety in which all Punjabis could participate. This ‘shared piety’ did not conflict with an individual’s nominative religious identity but formed a sphere of religiosity that transcended the boundaries which distinguished the Punjab’s major religious traditions. See Farina Mir, The Social Space of Language: Vernacular Culture in British Colonial Punjab (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2010), 175. For the same concept of shared piety in the Punjab, see Ian Talbot and Tahir Kamran, Lahore in the Time of the Raj (Haryana: Random House Publishers, 2016). Ibid. Jillani, Halaat-e-Aseeri Mein Ahl-e-Allah Ki Suhbat, 56. Green, Islam and the Army in Colonial India, 55. Pnina Werbner, ‘Stamping the earth with the name of Allah: Zikr and the Sacralizing of Space among British Muslims’, Cultural Anthropology 11, No. 3 (1996), 311. Ibid., 25. Ibid., 26. Werbner, Pilgrims of Love, 25. Green, Islam and the Army, 2. Baig, Shukr-e-Naimat, 51. The Pakistan Navy dominated the Jamaat; some of the prominent officers were: Group Captain Sarfraz Group Captain Arif Kazmi, Wing Commander Muzamil Jibran, and Squadron Leader Mohsin Khan. See Muhammad, Murshid Jaisa na Dekha Koi, 160. Shahzad Bashir, Sufi Bodies: Religion and Society in Medieval Islam (New York: Columbia University Press, 2011), 189. Ghulam Muhammad, The Journey from Murshid Abad to Makli Thatta, 44. www. awaisiah.com. Muhammad, Murshid Jaisa na Dekha Koi, 67.

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73 Muhammad, The Journey from Murshid Abad to Makli Thatta, 45. 74 Nile Green, ‘The Faqir and the Subalterns: Mapping the Holyman in Colonial South Asia’, Journal of Asian History 41, No. 1 (2007), 68. 75 Nile Green, ‘Jack Sepoy and the Dervishes: Islam and the Indian Soldier in Princely India’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Third Series 18, No. 1 (2008), 34. 76 Green, Islam and the Army in Colonial India, 2–3. 77 Ahmed-ud-Din, Hayat-e-Tayaba, 345. 78 Farish A. Noor, Islam on the Move: The Tablighi Jama’at in South East Asia (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2012), 85.

Conclusion

Islam in modern South Asia treads on a contested terrain, in which opposing discourses sought to exclude one another from the boundaries of normative forms of life and thought. The vast majority of movements of the Islamic revival came from figures who personified the ‘alim-Sufi combine. The intrafaith rivalries between the Deobandi and Barelvi became a polemical battle that had shaped South Asian Islam and Muslim identity. The relationship between Sufism and Islamic reformism situated them in a dialectical process. Reformist Islam crept in, and went on to consolidate, but could not displace shrine-based religious practices in their entirety. Reformist ideas could find space to permeate effectively only after accommodating Sufi thoughts and practices. An outright nullification of the Sufi ethos was not acceptable and could evoke conflict. The relationship between Sufism and reformist Islam demonstrated how the turn inward and outward actively complemented and contested each other. Sufism was used by reformist ulema as a means of internalization to reform and perfect oneself; upon accomplishing this, it led to exteriorization or a turn outwards toward the larger Muslim community, in which the central concern was disseminating ideas through preaching. In the process of exteriorization in the public sphere, the religious parlance of ulema was in favour of a scripturalist or legalist emphasis and contestation of certain aspects of Sufism, which indicates a dialectic of internalization and externalization. In the post-independence period, the state’s ideological mobilization along Islamic lines to construct a single national identity hardened the religious boundaries. The reformist variant of South Asian Islam became the principal determinant of Islamic identity, which became the core postulate of the Pakistani national narrative. Significantly one of the defining features of the reformist/scriptural version of Islam, was the propagation of exclusion on the basis of sectarian difference. The relationship between Sufis and tribes was a primordial socio-religious reality in the tribal society of Mianwali. Belonging to a religion meant belonging to a social ethnic group. The essential group values were defined by a system of kinship and alliance, of solidarity and hostility, status and social position. Tribal affinity and their adherence to a particular Sufi order became two essential components of their collective ethnic identity. Hence the tribal DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-7

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leader had to be a religious mentor who had a genealogical link with the tribe and a member of Pakhtunwali, which set the social and legal norms of behaviour among the Pakhtun tribes. The precepts of the code emphasised mediation. This legitimized the Sufi’s authority and his ability to mediate between the tribes. To maintain and preserve their collective Pathan identity, the process of codifying their differences, based on cultural content and specific religious affiliations, was imperative. A collective identity could not be established in reference to an ‘otherness’. These identities were realized on the boundary of ‘we’, in contact or confrontation with, or in contrast to, ‘others’. Maintaining their collective identity and their ethnic boundaries with neighbouring groups depended on the permanence of their religious affiliations. The tribal aristocracy and the religious establishment emerged as potential alternative sources of power in the absence of a centralized government. The relationship between Sufis and tribes was based on the concept of baraka, the miracle-making powers of the Sufi, defined sainthood. Primarily because the Sufis transformed their religio-mystical powers to cater to the sociological-existential needs of the people, which made them indispensable. The Sufis’ patronage to these tribes gradually drew them into their socioreligious structures. Their affiliation with a particular Sufi order helped them to integrate in the social formation that existed prior to their arrival. Whereas Reformist Islam was still a distant phenomenon. The Sufis preached sharia and Sufistic ethos which came to be established as the dominant face of local Islam in the region. The reformist ideas emerged in the confines of khanqah and penetrated through Sufis, were dovetailed with esoteric Sufic traditions. ‘’In the late nineteenth century, the profound cultural and social influence that the khanqahs and their Sufis exerted on their disciples attracted the attention of the colonial state, who sought cooperation from the khanqah organizations in maintaining political stability in the country. The mechanism through which the khanqahs were co-opted by the state was through the granting of substantial land grants. This strengthened the structure of shrine-based Islam. The later generations of these Sufis could not act as conduits between the local religions, social needs and the wider world of Islam. They drew closer to materialism and their religious influence declined. Towards the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the reformist movement in north India and its penetrating influence through Deobandi reformers in the region set in.The ‘roots’ that khanqahs had established in this region had a far deeper impact and presence. People acknowledged the general concepts dictated by the ulema, but they chose to live according to more particularistic notions of Islam which related to their everyday experiences. By the turn of the twentieth century the colonial administration included local rural magnates in the policy of co-option. A system of local administration was conjured up in which landed aristocracy and Sufis (sajjada nashins) assumed a central position to create an agrarian base and to win over the local gentry to control the region; this collapsed the agrarian and political frontiers into one. The local elite as colonial intermediaries supported tribal-rural structures of

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Islam based on the authority of sajjada nashin. In this hierarchical order, Sufis were part of the old tribal-rural structures of Islam which gave them the identity of their collective self. This placed ulema on the social periphery. To disseminate their reformist ideas, they had to negotiate with the Sufi traditions to create a niche in the social space of Mianwali. Deobandis, like the rest of India, remained devoted to Sufism in Mianwali. They had seen Sufism as an essential part of a Muslim’s moral life. They sought to reorient Sufi practice around an ethics of pious self-transformation. They considered Sufism, essential for every individual to attain training in suluk and have a spiritual mentor (murshid). As Ashraf Ali Thanvi and Hussain Ahmed Madni argue that embodying Sufi ethics is incumbent on all Muslims individually, and that mastery of Sufism is a duty of Muslims collectively (farz-i kifaya). In Mianwali, Deobandi scholars were major Sufi masters, Deobandi Islam had hardly ever lacked mystical dimensions. Similarly, Barelwi orientation never was a shrine-based religiosity; it had represented textual traditions. Deobandi-Barelwi controversy emerged when the former showed their concern to reform the moral and devotional life of Muslim community. They remained, critical of a range of practices, pilgrimage to Sufi saints’ tombs, celebration of the saints’ death anniversaries, maulud (celebration of the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday) that have been central to Sufi practice in India and elsewhere. From a Deobandi perspective, these beliefs and practices border dangerously on “worship” of the Prophet Muhammad and the Sufi saints. They embraced the literary and institutional dimensions of Sufism which concerns relations between Sufi masters and disciples (piri-muridi), initiations into Sufi orders, and the inculcation of Sufi ethical virtues through study with, sitting in the presence of Sufi masters and tasawar-e-shaykh. Spiritual training was central to Hussain Ali’s Sufi theology despite his puritanical Deobandi position. However Deobandi reformists maintained an ambivalent relationship with the third dimension which was devotional and ritual practices. Despite this contestation, mass support for Sufi devotional practices continued, because these traditions were embodied. This signified, Deobandis represented Sufism with a claim and called for reform within Sufism, considering it a contested terrain and a discursive tradition to be reformed. Claiming a superior religious position by treating the textual tradition of Islam as ‘religion’ they reduced the devotional aspect to some form of deviance. The real fault lines between Deobandis and Barelwis essentially had to do with their divergent views on Prophet Muhammad. The unique Prophetology that was central to Ahmed Reza Khan’s vision was a sensitive issue for Barelwi denomination. Ahmed Reza Khan declared Prophetology as necessary articles of faith, giving it an exoteric aspect. The two Deobandi khanqahs represented different approaches on this theological issue. Khanqah Sirajia espoused ShahWaliullah’s tradition, adopted a mild disposition. Hussain Ali, the ideologue of khanqah Hussainia carried forward Shah Ismail and Ibn-e-Taimiyya’s theological thinking, using a rhetoric generally associated with Wahabis and Salafis, therefore he was called by local people as ‘Wahabi’. The central question was

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about the divine sovereignty and its relationship to Prophet Muh.ammad’s authority. Undermining the distinguished status of the Prophet by portraying him as a mere human who was a recipient of divine revelation, was offensive to Barelwis. Hussain Ali questioned the nature of the Prophet’s authority as a mediator between God and humans, his capacity as an intercessor on the Day of Judgment, his access to knowledge of the unknown (ilm-al-ghayb) and the normative status of rituals, devotional practices, that found no precedence in the life of the Prophet and his Companions. The Barelwis considered this as contesting the Prophet’s ontological exceptionality, and opposed it vehemently. A heated debate between Ali and Barelwi scholar Ahmed Din Gangvi, on Prophetology represented a crucial nexus in the narrative of intra-Muslim contestations in colonial Punjab. Polemical debates, takfiri fatawa (religious edicts), and political associations became a platform to publicly ex-communicate each other from the fold of Islam. Deobandis and Barelwis both stressed inward purity and correct conduct within the confines of strict adherence to sharia, which perfectly expressed the Sunna of the Prophet. This indicates the Barelwi model overlap with that of Deobandi, and so there lies deep symbiosis between the Sufi discursive tradition and Islamic revivalism. However the conceptual differences and competing understanding of Prophetology generated differences and sharpened the sectarian identities. Reformism had a great effect on the ideologization of Islam, but their efforts to bring ordinary Muslims within the fold which they thought of as a pure and pristine version of Islam were not very successful until the first quarter of the twentieth century. The differences between the two denominations converged on the point of nationalist ideology enshrined in singular Islamic identity. Towards the second decade of the twentieth century, the sharia-oriented reformist Islam gained new life and strength, in the context of emerging anti-colonial nationalist ideology among Indian Muslims.. Muslim urban intelligentsia in the Punjab grew increasingly disenchanted with the privileges of landedaristocracy of the Punjab under the colonial patronage and the policies on socio-religious and economic disparities encountered by the Muslim community. Support for political parties such as Majlis-i-Ahrar sprang from this dissatisfaction among the Punjabi Muslims. Like the rest of the Punjab, every ideology-driven idea or approach in Mianwali was tied to a religious angle. Majlis-i-Ahrar forged a religious community identity and a sense of class solidarity against the exploitation of Hindu moneylenders and landed elite, and mobilized Punjabi Muslims for social and economic elevation. With its idea of unitary nationalism, Ahrar identified itself with Islamic symbols and fused the religious community identity with a nationalist ideology that was essentially couched in the notion of anti-imperialism. Thus religion functioned as companion to nationalism. This new ideological formation became the forerunner to the anti-colonial nationalist struggle in Kalabagh. With this the concepts of the ideal nation and national community gained wider currency. Religion became a rallying ideology and assumed greater significance as a source of acquiring empowerment in the political realm. This struggle was articulated in two ways

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during the 1930s and 1940s. Majlis-i-Ahrar and Khudai Khidmatgar with nationalist and anti-imperialist ideology contested recruitment to the colonial army by using religious idioms. An example of Ahrar’s expression of antiestablishment sentiments was Fauj-i-Muhammadi which was a community venture by Deobandis and Barelwis to combat social evils among Muslims. The concern for moral uplift of Muslim community integrated all the denomination. Ahrar used religious rhetoric to combat the strength of the political elite and British patronized Unionist party. The social and economic marginalization and oppressive policies of the landed elite in Kalabagh helped the rural poor to organize themselves into a uniform social entity and a homogenized majority religious community defining itself as a nation, opening up space for political unity. Ahrar took Deobandi reformist Islam to the public sphere in Kalabagh and stressed those religious practices and tenets of Islam which made a clear differentiation between Hindus and Muslims and zealously emphasized the ‘fundamentals’ of Islam, which gave rise to communal fissures. Ahrar’s use of religious and nationalist rhetoric forged a Muslim ethno-religious identity, defining itself as a nation, and as a result the dominant nationalist discourse drew up notions of ethno-religious majoritarianism and minoritarianism. The nationalist ideology around a singular Muslim identity subscribed to a territorial nationalism, while simultaneously propounded Pan-Islamic and trans-territorial nationalism to forge a universal Muslim community. . The idea underpinning the movement to emphasise the concept of Ummah, universal Islamic community, gave centrality to reformist Islam (sharia) in the town. The reformist Islam provided Muslims of various religious groups a uniform template to galvanize around anti-British rhetoric. The theological differences converged on the idea of a unified Muslim community identity which transcended the theological differences between Deobandis, Barelwis and other religious denominations. With their reformist bent, all articulations and denominations were linked with the notion of a singular Islamic identity. It served as a rallying ideology to unite Sufistic strands and reformist articulations in quest of the greater objective to become a devout community. Towards the middle of the twentieth century, reformist sharia Islam became a dominant and effective instrument in political mobilization and constructing a universal Islamic community (Ummah) to fight for unitary nationalism (freedom from British rule). The relationship between Islam, the state and identity remained paramount in the public sphere in the post-colonial state of Pakistan. There was a visible resurgence of Islam, and the process of identity formation concurrent to this resurgence included a growing range of activities by ulema and their increasing reach in the public and religious spheres. What created a space for them in politics was Objectives Resolution 1949, a decisive step towards an Islamic state. It helped to clearly delineate the boundary between Muslim and nonMuslim. The national narrative had a reformist streak with sharia holding precedence over shrine-based denominations. One of the defining features of

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the reformist version was the hardening of boundaries between and among key doctrinal orientations. The starkest example of hardening attitudes related to the exclusion of Ahmadis, which ratified the impulse towards sharper boundaries. The politicization of religion and a unified exclusionary approach towards minority religious groups bred increased religiosity and intolerance. In the decades to come the exclusionary streak moved from strength to strength. The concept of Khatm-e-Nabuwwat became a central postulate of the reformist version of Islam. Majlis-i-Ahrar was now the pioneer in advancing the cause of Khatam-i-Nubuwwat. It aggressively demanded that Ahmadis be declared non-Muslims. The politicization of religious controversy was belligerently undertaken by religious groups, most notably Ahrar, JUI, JUP and JI. The dynamics of Ahrar’s politics were the same as in the colonial period: the violent public mobilization and calling into question the state’s authority which catapulted Mianwali out of the political backwaters into a position of prominence. The ulema asserted themselves and secured their dominance in political terms. Barelwi ulema emerged contentiously on the political landscape of Mianwali and participated in electoral politics by forging an alliance with Sial Sharif (a prominent Chishti khanqah in Sargodha District, West Punjab), which formed a wide constituency of mureeds in Mianwali. The alliance considerably enhanced the political strength of the Barelwi ulema in the body politic of Mianwali and Punjab specifically. It was still a prevalent tradition that Sufis and sajjada nashins issued fatwa to martial their mureeds in favour of their disciple politicians. The history of their proactive political role and support of the Muslim League goes back to the colonial period. As the struggle over general elections 1945–1946 intensified, Barelwi Sufis in Punjab at large and Mianwali martialled their disciples through the Pir-murid network in the favour of the Muslim League, which was crucial in winning the election. The Pakistan movement was based on the principles derived from classical Islam. The Ummat-i-Islamiya or Muslim community was established on the idea of Tauheed, the unity of God. The Barelwi Sufis and their association the Ahle-Sunnat wal Jamaat with their reformist orientations were closer to the Muslim League’s political ideals, transcended local communities, and linked themselves to the broader Islamic community that became central to the Pakistan movement. This also negates the notion that Barelwi Sufis were apolitical and pacifist. In the post-colonial state of Pakistan, ulema representing the Barelwi denomination continued the tradition and advocated a revivalist agenda of enforcement of sharia at the state level, holding a modernist position. Khatam-e-Nabuwwat had remained an issue of prime significance for Deobandi ulema in the district since colonial days. They restrained themselves from electoral politics and restricted themselves to advancing the cause of Khatam-e-Nabuwwat quite vociferously at the national level. Khatam-e-Nabuwwat served as a point of convergence between Deobandi and Barelwi ulema, despite their theological differences. They managed to forge a consensus against the Ahmadiyya community during the anti-Ahmadiyya

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movements of 1953 and 1974. The prime aim was to achieve political and religious authority at the national level by supporting the narrative of singular Islamic identity despite living in a peripheral district like Mianwali. Sectarianism, in contrast, started centring on the ideologues of mosque and madrasa, fanning the flames of Deobandi-Barewli exclusionism. If reformist ideas percolated into the district through khanqah in the colonial period, the mosque and madrassas became the nerve centre of renewed sectarian conflict in the post-colonial era. One may argue that sectarianism had its roots in primordial intra-Islam differences. However, the sectarian differences had not come out then as explicitly as they did in the period under scrutiny. The conflict based on sectarian differences became a strong centrifugal force, opposed all attempts at unity, a centripetal force. The polarization between centripetal and centrifugal forces structured the framework within which the discord between religious groups took place. Ulema and Sufis sought to forge a consensus on existing sets of ideas which had primordial attachments to pre-modern beliefs. Modernity did not run deep in that society. A fusion of sorts between modernity and tradition constructed a new form of modernity which was fractured and riddled with ambivalence. The form, expression and intensity of conflict between various religious groups varied in accordance with the peculiarities of context at different places. If the Deobandi-Barelwi conflict was dominant in Mianwali, Shia-Sunni sectarianism gained prominence in Chakrala. The validity of the Shia claim to be Muslims was also questioned as it did not fit in the narrow paradigm of Muslim-ness defined by Khatm-e-Nabuwwat ideology. The Ahmadiyya controversy played a considerable role in the rise of sectarianism. Anti-Shia sentiments were articulated very clearly when a Sufi-inspired reformist movement was launched by Deobandi ideologue Allahyar Khan in Chakrala to foil the proselytizing activities of the Shias and Ahmadis. The purpose was to combat Shia and Ahmadi agrarian magnates to bring an aggressive Sunni identity to the tribal-rural milieu. The dominance of reformist Islam/Sunni identity meant the privileging of Sunni institutions over Shia. This can be seen as an attempt to make this dominance conform with the narrative of the state, enshrined in sharia-oriented Islam. The reformist message was articulated through tablighi Jamaat which expanded its influence in the Pakistan army and gained wide popularity among rural soldiers and the urban officer class. Maulana Allahyar established Deobandi ascendancy in a region which was overwhelmingly inhabited by Barelwis. This assertiveness was an expression of a Sunni upward mobility in the region. He was successful in establishing Deobandi authority, as he imbibed spiritual practices in conformity with sharia to lure local people into the fold. However the social fallout of this movement which had an exclusionary character drove in a sectarian wedge, replacing the religio-cultural plurality of the town. The binary between Shia and Sunni Islam had remained thin in a tribal-rural setup. Both were constituents of a broader mix of locally accepted practices. The urban text-based traditions created a clear dichotomy between Shia and Sunni Islam.

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Reformism accommodated shrine-oriented Islam by transforming and redefining it, relegating popular practices conceived as rural, anachronistic and riddled with innovation, to the lower order of society, and adapting its prestigious aspects like the institutional and literary. There was a simultaneous adaptation and marginalization of the local and rural. The intersection of these two trends of Islam(s), the traditional and modern, which are usually conceived as diametrically opposed to each other, could be combined in unforeseen ways. Reformed Islam was active and effective and congruent with shrine-oriented practices and beliefs. The dynamics of change in twentieth-century Mianwali were such that the dialectical relationship between various sets of belief existed. The old and new co-existed with the improved knowledge and practices of the fundamentals of Islam. The religious change reflected a narrowing of the space for Sufistic ethos within Deobandi circles and a hardening of boundaries between religious denominations. The state-led national narrative predicated on sharia-oriented Islam replaced pluralist traditions with exclusionary and sectarian differences.

Appendix 1

Confidential letter of Commissioner, Rawalpindi Division to Deputy Commissioner, Mianwali District to take prompt action to stop the Red Shirts’ anti-military recruitment campaign. Commissioner Rawalpindi Division in a confidential letter to Deputy Commissioner Mianwali inquiring what actions he had proposed to stop the incursion of the Red Shirts Movement from NWF into IsaKhel

DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-8

Appendix 2

Anjuman Himayat-e-Birtania, an organization of Military Pensioners of Mianwali District, passed a resolution in a meeting presided by Amir Muhammad Khan, Nawab of Kalabagh pledging to be loyal to the British government. Minutes of Anjuman Himayat-e-Birtania’s resolution of the Military Pensioners who pledged to be loyal to the British and would restrain the Red Shirts Movement in IsaKhel

DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-9

Appendix 3

Golden commendation award list of those officers and pensioners who provided services to suppress the Red Shirts’ campaign, documented in the confidential fortnightly report. A confidential letter from Civil Secretariat Simla 1931 showing Golden Commendation Award list of officers and pensioners who suppressed the Red Shirts’ Movement in Mianwali Source: Deputy Commissioner Record Office Mianwali

DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-10

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DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-11

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Glossary

awliya azadari baradari baraka barzakh bayyath bida chilla Chishtiyya Silsila dhikirin dhikr fatwa Fiqah fitna futuh ghair muqallid Hadith halqa-e-dhikr hazir wa nazir hukumat-i-illahia Ilm-e-ghaib Jamaat Jatha jirga Kafir Karamat khalifa khanqah

Sufi or Muslim mystic a public procession during Muharram brotherhood; extended family or tribe, a community belonging to the same place or profession blessing powers of a Sufi given by God ‘isthmus’, the person or point of being in which the divine and human worlds join a pledge to a Sufi for following the Sufi teaching a practice that contradicts religious tradition (Islam), and violates the basic principles of the faith a secluded worship the Chishti Sufi order was founded in India by Moinuddin Chishti Ajmeri (1141–1230) those who remember Allah and do recitation reciting pious formulae for remembering God ruling of religious law issued by an alim the science of Islamic jurisprudence causing chaos, distracting people from religion or their traditions used for Arab-Muslim conquests; also used for gifts one who does not adhere to a particular law school Prophetic tradition a circle or group of dhakirin being and seeing divine government knowledge of the unseen congregation, collective body group of people a local court headed by tribal chiefs unbeliever, non-Muslim ‘benevolent act’, a miracle performed by a Sufi saint spiritual successor of a Sufi a Sufi hospice or living abode

DOI: 10.4324/9781003119364-12

190

Glossary

Khateeb Khatm-e-Nabuwwat Khutba langar lashkar madrasa Majlis majzub maraqaba Mashaikh mela muafi mujahida mujawar mulfuzat Munazara Munkir-i-Hadith mureed Muwahid Naqshbandiyya Pakhtun Wali Qadiriyya qazi radd-i-Qadianiyat sajjada nashin Sama mauta Shariat Shifaat Shirk Shirk fil zaat Sufi Suharwardiyya Suluk tabligh tafseer tahajud tajdid Takfiri Tariqa tasawwuf Tauheed

reciter of the khutba, preacher the belief in the finality of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) Friday sermon in which a prayer was made for the ruler public kitchen to distribute food, often at a Sufi shrine a group of people religious school meeting, assembly, party a Sufi in a state of ecstatic rapture spiritual contemplation (pl. shaykh) title of respect given to Sufis festival revenue-free land spiritual excercises guardian of a tomb mulfuz means ‘words’, recorded words of a Sufi oral debate usually between ulema someone who denies the veracity of Hadith literature follower of a Sufi in the eighteenth century Najd, the followers of Abd alWahhab were known as Muwahid or Muwahidun a Sufi order founded by Bahaduddin Naqshband in Bukhara the unwritten cultural code of Pukhtun tribesmen a Sufi order founded by Abdul Qadir Jilani (1070–1166) judge anti-Qadiani, to remove the influence of Qadianiyat the one who sits on the prayer carpet, a lineal descendant of the saint the belief that the dead can hear or do not hear Islamic Law, derived from the Quran and Hadith Prophet’s (pbuh) intercessionary role idolatry, associating partners with Allah to associate divine attributes to a human Muslim mystic a Sufi order founded by the Persian Sufi Abu Najeeb Suharwardi, following the Shafi school of thought spiritual training proselytization Quranic exegesis midnight prayer renewal declaring someone as infidel or unbeliever (pl. turuq) ‘mystical path’, the Sufi path, a Sufi lodge act or progress of being a Sufi ‘Unity’, the doctrine of the indivisible oneness of God

Glossary taweez tsawwur-e-shaykh ulema urs ushr Wahhabi wazaif Wilayat ziayrat

191

amulets, charm, talisman image or imagination of Sufi mentor in the mind of a disciple religious scholar ‘wedding’, saintly death anniversary celebrated as a wedding with God tax on agricultural produce the term used to describe the followers of Muhammad Ibn Wahhab (1702–1792) prayers ‘friendship with God’, the doctrine of sainthood ‘visit’, a pilgrimage to a Sufi shrine

Index

Abd al-Razik, Ali 5 Abduh, Muhammad 5 Ahl-e-Hadith 6, 48–49, 81, 117, 132n37–38, 134n78 Ahl-e-Sunnat wal Jamaat 4, 48, 58, 60–61, 163 Ahl-ul- Quran 6, 48 Ahmadiyya 1, 10–11, 13–14, 21n76, 55, 58, 63, 105–107, 109–112, 114–117, 122, 124, 128, 129n8 Al-Afghani, Jamal al-Din 5 al-Banna, Hassan 5 Al-Din-ul-Khalis 127 Al-Farooq 127, 139n171–172 al-Ghannoushi, Rashid 5 Aligarh 6 Al-Ikhwan 151 Al-Ikhwan-al-Muslimun 5 Ali Shawkani, Muhammad bin 6 al-Kawakebi, Abdul Rahman 5 All-Pakistan Muslim Parties Convention 110 All-Pakistan Shia Political Conference 123 Al-Murshid 155 al-Tahtawi, Rifaa 5 al-Tunisi, Khayr-al-Din 5 al-Turabi, Hasan 5 Alwani, Hussain Ali 8, 39, 46, 56–63, 71–72, 86, 160–161 Anjuman-e-Khudam-e-Lahore 63 Anjuman Himayat-e-Birtania 89 Anjuman Islah-ul-Muslimeen 82 Anjuman-i-Talba Islam 116 Anjuman Taeed-e-Haq 60 Ash’ari 3 Asna Ashari 63 Auqaf Department 120 Azadari 11, 123, 125–127, 189

bahishti darwaza 30 Baig, Major Ahsan 146–147, 152, 155n25, 155n40 Bannu 45, 51, 78, 102, 108 Banuri, Maulana Yousaf 109, 113, 115–117, 131n30, 133n64 Barahin-e-Matim 127 Baraka 8, 23, 25, 29, 30–31, 35–36, 158–159 baraka-belt 31 Barelwi, Ahmed Reza Khan, 3–5, 7, 12, 18n32, 18n42, 48, 52, 57–61, 72n64, 73n78, 160 Barelwi 1, 12, 47–48, 61, 63, 106, 120, 158, 160–162 Bayyath 32, 189 Bhakar 45n126, 86, 108, 147 Bhorwi, Fateh Muhammad 35–36, 52 Bidat 6 bud mazhab 49 Bukhari, Ataullah Shah 55, 88, 92, 109–111, 131–132 Bulghat-ul-Hairaan 59–60, 72n69 centripetal and centrifugal 164 Chaanran, 30 Chakrala 11, 46, 85, 97, 100, 123–124, 140, 143–145, 164 Chakralwi, Maulana Allahyar 11, 106, 123–124, 140–143, 147–148 Chishtiyya 2, 10, 17n10, 31–32, 52, 60, 70 n41, 73n79, 80, 113 ‘Chitan’ 117 civilization building ideology 24 Combined Military Hospital 151 communal identities 87 communalism 20n58, 76–77, 80, 87, 96n7–8, 97n12, 98n36

Index Daiaan-e-Hussain wa Qatilan-e-Hussain ki khana tilashi 127 Dalail-ul-Suluk 44, 144, 154n10, 12, 18 dargah 21, 23, 29–30, 38, 44n79–80, 45n101, 56 Darkhasti, Maulana Abdullah 110–111 Dar-ul-Huda Chokeera 127 Dar-ul-Irfan Manara 144, 151–155n24 Dar-ul-Mubalighin 117, 126 Dar-ul-Ulum Deoband 8, 73n80 defensive armour of the ego 147 Deobandi 1, 12, 47–48, 50, 61, 63, 106, 120, 158, 160 dhikr 54 dialectical identity 3, 12, 66, 127, 158, 163, 165 dua-e-Hizb-ul-Bahr 150 etiological legends 32 exclusionary 8, 10–11, 13, 55–56, 61–62, 105, 115, 117–118, 124, 127–128, 140–142, 152, 163–165 Faraizis 6 Farangi Mahallis 58 fatawa al-Haramain bi-Rajf Nadwat alMain 58 Fauj-e-Muhammadi 81 fitna-e-Shia Rawafiz 124–125 Gakhar 25, 27, 41n15 Gangohi, Rashid Ahmed 7–8, 48–49, 57–58, 60, 63, 67, 69, 71 Gangvi, Ahmed Din 60–61, 73, 161 Gauraksha Sabha 82 Gaya war camp No 93 146–147, 149 Ghazwa-e-Hind 151 goga 26 Gojarvi, Maulvi Ismail 127 golden certificates in commemoration of services 89; list of names who got certificates 103n110 gumrah 49, 60, 67 gyarveen 49 Hakumat-e-Illahiya 87, 101n88 halqa-e-dhikr 14, 142–146, 148–150, 152 Hanafi 3, 63 Hanbali 6, 17n18, 71n60, 73n78 Hassam-ul- Haramain 4, 58 Hazarvi, Ghulam Ghaus 86, 92, 110, 131n34, 134n75 hazir wa nazir 4, 53, 58–59, 67, 189 Hurmat-e-Matim127

193

Hussainia Party 61 Hybridity 51, 68 hyper-corporeality 22, 34–35, 150 Idara-e-Tahafuz-e-Haquq-i-Shia Pakistan 123, 126 Ijad Mazhab-e-Shi’I 127 ilm al-ghayb 4, 60, 161 Insan-e-kamil 4 Islamic modernism 5 Islamic Mysticism 2, 16n2 Islamic Reformism 1–3, 5–6, 11, 14, 16n1, 18n29, 40, 47–48, 64, 76, 80, 144, 152, 158 Ismail, Shah 4, 49, 57–58, 160 Jaish-e-Ahrar 91 Jalaliya Suhurwardiyya 31 jamaat Akhuwat-ul-salkeen 146 jamaat of Allah’s friends 143, 152n1 jamaat of dhakirin 14, 142–143, 145–146 jamaat of mashaikh 148 Jamaat-e-Islami 6, 128 Jamia Akbaria Mianwali 108, 120 Jamia Masjid Lohari Mandi 92 Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Hind 5, 62–63, 77, 84, 87 Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Islam 10, 106, 108, 119 Jamiyat-e-Ulema-e-Pakistan 10, 108, 112, 119, 123, 131, 133 Jilani, Sheikh Abdul Qadir 35, 49 ‘Jisarat’ 117 Kalabagh 78, 81, 85, 87, 90, 92, 162 Karamat 25, 33, 38, 142 Kashmiri, Anwar Shah 55, 60, 63, 109, 153n1 Kashmiri, Shorish 92, 134n78; pas-e-diwar-e-zindaan 101n88 Khaksar 63–64, 77, 81, 84; see Al-Mashriqi 98n40 Khan, Abu Saad Ahmed 53–54, 65, 70 Khan, Maulana Ghulamullah 61, 74, 111, 126 Khan, Muhammad Gulsher,79, 82, 86, 88, 90, 91–92 Khan, Nawab Ameer Muhammad 78, 89–91 Khanqah Ahmedia Saeedia Musa Zai Sharif 56, 70–71 Khanqah Bhor Sharif 45, 50, 52 Khanqah Hussainia Naqshbandiyya 50, 56, 66, 71, 160

194

Index

Khanqah Sirajia 50, 52–53, 55–56, 61, 65–66, 70–71, 86, 101, 110, 119 Khanqah 10, 22–23, 26, 29, 37, 45, 50, 52, 56, 61, 65–66, 69, 70–71, 75, 86, 101, 106, 108–109, 112, 119–120, 151, 159–160, 163–164 Khatm-e-Nabuwwat 10, 15, 55, 106, 109, 111, 113, 114, 117, 119, 122, 128, 163 Khattak 89; see Bhangi Khel Khattaks 101n100 Khilafat-i-Pakistan,133n56 Khudai Khidmatgar 76, 84, 88–90, 162; see origin of red shirts 100n69 Lahori, Ahmed Ali 28–9 langar 26, 31, 37, 44n93 Langar Mukhdum 153n1 Lolak 70 n44, 117 Lashkar 28–29, 63 madh-e-sahaba 125 Madni, Sultan ul-Arifin Khawaja Allah Din 153 madrasa Shams-ul-Ulum Ghausia 108 madrasa Tabligh-ul-Islam 108 madrasa Talim-ul-Quran 55, 61, 98, 126 Majlis-i-Ahrar-i-Islam 9, 15, 63–64, 74, 76–77, 80, 84, 86–93, 95, 101, 105, 109, 116, 129, 161–163 Majlis-e-Tahafuz-e-Khatam-e-Nubuwwat 106, 109, 123 Majlis-i-Amal Tahafuz-e-Khatm-eNabuwwat 110 Majlis-i-Amla 110–111, 116 Majlis-i-Amla Mianwali 92, 110 Makki, Haji Imdadullah Mahajir 7, 69n25 malfuzat 15 Malhowali 88, 92, 97n29 maliki authority 6, 28 Maturidi 3 maulud 8, 48–49, 52, 57, 160 Mazahir-ul-Ulum 7, 58, 69n2, 71n54 Mediation 4, 27–29, 36, 40, 57 Miana 37 Mian Ali 24–26, 28, 30, 35, 38, 42 Mianwali 2, 21, 23, 36–37, 51, 65, 93, 107, 158, 160, 163 microcosm 22, 30–32 militarization 27–29 military clientele 150 military recruitment 82, 84–89 Mohra Kor Chashm 143 moral community 146

Muhammadia mosque 117 Muhammad, Khawaja Khan 55, 112–113, 115, 117, 119 Mujadid 58 Mujahida 53–54 munazara 8, 62–63, 122, 125–128, 140 Munir-Kiyani report 115 Muraqaba 53–54, 146 Murshid 32 Murtad 49 Muslim League 63, 93, 94, 106, 163 Muwahid 59, 72–73, 190 Nadwat-ul-ulama 6 Nanautwi, Qasim 7, 63, 67, 69 Najm-ur-Rehman 60 Naqshbandiyya Awaisia 140–144 Naqshbandiyya Mujadidiyya 27, 54–56, 71 Nationalist 10, 13–14, 64, 67, 76–77, 85 Niazi, Abdul Sattar Khan 112, 114–116 Nida-e-Baluchistan’ 117 Nur-e-Muhammadi 4, 8, 49 Objectives Resolution 1949 10, 105, 107, 109, 141, 162 Oonchi Masjid Mozang 92 Orientalist 1 Pakhtun Wali 28, 158 Pakistan Majlis-e-Amal Tahafuz-eKhatm-e-Nabuwwat 115–116 Pan-Islamic 5, 162 Pathan 24, 26–28, 65, 85, 111, 159 patron-client relationship 8, 27, 78, 81, 150 Persian Mysticism 3 piri-mureedi 37, 160 PNS Himalya 145 popular devotionalism 23, 30 Prophetology 3, 48, 50, 57, 62, 160–161 Puritanical 48, 50, 52, 56, 61–62, 142, 151, 154, 160 puritanism 48 Pushtun ethno-regionalism 88 Qadiriyya 12, 24, 27, 31 Qutab, Syed 5 Qutb 33, 52 raast iqdam 111 rais 78 radd-i-Qadianiyat 117 Rida, Muhammad Rashid 5

Index risala Ilm-e-Ghaib 59, 61, 171 Rumi, Jalal-ud-Din 3 sacralising of space 148 Sadaqat 127 sajjada nashin 13, 29, 36, 38–39, 65, 160 salat-o-salam 59, 70 sama mauta 59, 72, 190 sectarianism 10, 13, 119–120, 123–124, 128, 164 shaf’i 6 Shah, Mehr Ali 32, 62 shared piety 149, 156n59 Sharia 1, 47, 162 shariat 6, 28, 47 shauba-e-tabligh 63 Sheranwala Bagh 92 Shia-Sunni 10, 122, 124, 126, 164 shifaat-e-qahri 59, 60, 72 Shikast-e-Aida-e-Hussain 127 Sial Sharif 10, 39–40, 44, 73, 113, 126, 163 Sirat-ul-Mustaqim 59 Sirhindi, Ahmed Farooq 7, 52–53, 55–56, 69–70 Staff College Quetta 150 Sufism 1, 12, 21, 47, 159–160 Suluk 54 ‘suniaranwali’ masjid 110 Tabarra 125, 138n156 Tablighi Jamaat 6, 140, 142–143, 164 Tahrik-e-Ahl-e-Sunnat mubalighin 126 Taimiya, Ibn-e- 58, 160, 168 tajdid 5 Takfeer-ul-Muslimeen 60 takfiri fatawa 5, 48, 105, 107, 125–126, 161

195

Talimat-i-Islamia 107 Tanzim-i-Ahl-e-Sunnat 122 Taqwiat-ul-Iman 17, 59 Tariqa-e-Muhammadia 6 Tariqat 6, 8, 24, 28, 32, 40, 47, 52, 56, 59, 71 Tasaneef Iman bil Quran 127 tasawwuf 53–54 tasawwur-e-shaykh 53, 56, 160 Tauheed 6, 56–59, 72, 94, 127, 163, 190 tawajuh shaykh 54, 56 tawassul 4 Taweez 149 taweez-futuh 30 Tehzir-ul Muslimin 5 Thal Development Authority 107 Thanvi, Ashraf Ali 4 Tola Bhangi Khel 88 Wahhab, Muhammad Ibn‘Abd-al- 5, 58–59 Wahhabi 9, 57, 59, 61, 63, 73, 143, 191 Wahhabiya Shaitaniya 61 Wahhabiyat 63 Wali Allah, Shah 5, 7, 160 Wazir Khan Masjid 114–115 Weekly Afzal 93 West Pakistan Waqf Properties Ordinance 1959 141 Wilaya 36 Ya Ghaus 53 Ya Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jillani Shain llillah 60 yaum-e-Ihtijaj 110 Yaum-i-Kalabagh 92 Zikria, Sultan 35