It is said when Waris Shah completed
Heer he showed it to his teacher. The latter was rather disappointed to see his
talented student, instead of writing something on fiqh or shariah, had chosen
to write a love story. He is reported to have said:
“Warsa (deflection of the name,
often used in Punjabi to address juniors in age or rank), I am saddened to see
that my efforts have gone waste. I taught both you and Bulleh Shah. He ended up
playing the sarangi (a string instrument) and you have come up with this.”
Waris Shah then opened the
book and started reciting Heer. As the teacher listened, the words slowly
started sinking in. He was so touched by the language, the poetry, the powerful
imagery, the intensity of emotions, and the melody that he is famously reported
to have said,
“Wah! Waris Shah, you have strung
together precious pearls in a twine of “munj” (a coarse string of hemp or
jute).”
Some commentators interpret the
“pearls” in the teacher’s comment as the deeper spiritual meanings and the
“twine of munj” as the coarse theme of physical love. In other words, they say,
you would, if you care to, find profound meanings beneath the superficial words
of the story. However, others interpret the comment to mean that such beautiful
thoughts and powerful images are expressed in a language (Punjabi) that was
considered coarse or not quite as sophisticated at the time. Having myself sped
through the book I tend to agree with both the views. (I must confess, however,
that, Punjabi not being my native tongue, it was not easy for me to fully
understand the text. I had to rely mostly on the Urdu translation provided
alongside the Punjabi text.)
Shorn of all the embellishments and
detail — the devil, in this case, though, literally lies in the embellishments
and the detail — here is the story for those who may not have read it or heard
it before.
The events of the story are supposed
to have occurred sometime in the middle of the 15th century. Ranjha (his
given name was Deedho. Ranjha was his clan) was born in Takht
Hazara, a town in district Sargodha, to a local landlord. He was the youngest
of eight sons, and his father’s favorite. While others went about their daily
chores Ranjha whiled away his time playing the flute that he loved so much. He
grew long hair — longer than men usually wore those days — and was a very
handsome young lad.
When their father died, a dispute
arose between Ranjha and his brothers over the distribution of land. The
brothers had apportioned the best land to themselves and gave Ranjha only the
barren land. Ranjha, after a heated argument with his brothers, left home in
protest. He headed aimlessly southward along the River Chenab until he reached
somewhere near the present day Jhang where the Sayyal tribe ruled.
An incident that stands out during
this part of the story, which has been described in great detail by Waris Shah, is when Ranjha
stays in a
village mosque for the night. In the quiet of the night, tired and
distressed that he was, Ranjha starts playing the flute. The village folks,
when they hear the poignant notes are attracted to the mosque. The maulvi of
the village also turns up, not to listen to the flute, though, but to scold
Ranjha for desecrating the mosque. The maulvi denounces Ranjha for playing the
flute in the mosque and also for his long-haired looks, and tells him to leave
the mosque. Ranjha is not intimidated and replies:
“You and your kind, with your
beards, try to pretend to be saints, but your actions are that of the devil.
You do evil deeds inside the mosques and then mount the mimbar (rostrum) and
quote scriptures to others …”
(In fact, Ranjha is more explicit
than what I have been able to paraphrase.)
The back and forth denunciations
between the maulvi and Ranjha continue for some time. Interestingly, the
village folks don’t seem to share the maulvi’s enthusiasm in denouncing Ranjha.
They simply w