South Asian History and Culture

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Music, emotions and reform in South Asian Islam:

perspectives from the eighteenth to the twentieth
century

M. Sajjad Alam Rizvi

To cite this article: M. Sajjad Alam Rizvi (2018) Music, emotions and reform in South Asian Islam:
perspectives from the eighteenth to the twentieth century, South Asian History and Culture, 9:3,
340-363, DOI: 10.1080/19472498.2018.1488368

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Published online: 11 Jul 2018.

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SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE
2018, VOL. 9, NO. 3, 340–363
[Link]

Music, emotions and reform in South Asian Islam: perspectives

from the eighteenth to the twentieth century
M. Sajjad Alam Rizvi
Department of History, Presidency University, Kolkata, India

ABSTRACT KEYWORDS
This article explores the ‘reformist discourse’ on mystical audition (samā‘) Samā‘; ecstasy; psychology;
in South Asia (from the eighteenth to the twentieth century). Reform in emotions; consciousness
the Islamicate world has been studied conventionally from the perspec-
tive of compliance with or deviation from the sharī‘a. This narrative holds
that ecstasy is the result of intoxication that transgresses the boundaries
of doctrinal Islam which privileges sobriety. However, this article argues
that sharī‘a was subject to various and/or contested interpretations. The
article discusses how emotion knowledge derived from ‘psychology’ (‘Ilm
al-Nafs or ‘Ilm al-Nafsiyāt), with the circulation of ideas and concepts
across the Indo-Persian and Arabic regions, was appropriated by Muslim
scholars to privilege or discourage certain emotional practices and styles.
Sufi scholars, in this period, were drawing upon various disciplines –
theology, philosophy, medical knowledge (ṭibb) and Sufi psychology.
They have attributed different emotions (discussed in Sufi texts as
moral virtues or vices and mystical states and stages) to different ‘subtle
components’ such as heart, spirit, soul intellect and others. The various
ways of conceptualizing emotions influenced the attitudes of Muslim
scholars who privileged different emotional styles towards the mystical
practice of samā‘. Thus, the reformist discourse in South Asian Islam,
informed by emotion knowledge, was contested. The article analyzes the
writings of Muslim scholars on Sufi ideas and practices, sharī‘a, and
psychology and shows how notions about the (physiological/psycholo-
gical) mystical effects (experienced in the assembly of samā‘) and ideo-
logical positions shaped diverse attitudes to mystical audition.

Introduction: samā‘ and emotions

In Sufi literature, samā‘ (‘listening’, ‘hearing’, ‘audition’) refers to listening to music, singing,
chanting and measured recitation designed to bring about emotions such as joy, sorrow and ecstasy.
It is believed to enable the soul to communicate directly with God. Abū Hāmid al-Ghazālī (d. 1111),
the renowned Islamic theologian who attempted to reconcile between Sufism and orthodoxy, states
that the secrets concealed in the hearts can only be extracted through samā‘.1 Bruce B. Lawrence, in
his study of the Chishtī practice of samā‘, says that it refers to ‘hearing chanted verses (with or
without accompanying instruments) in the company of others also seeking to participate in the
dynamic dialogue between a human lover and the Divine Beloved’.2 These observations show the
perceived importance of samā‘ as a tool for the spiritual advancement of those who follow the Sufi
path. Not only did numerous Sufis practice samā‘ as an integral part of their contemplative and
spiritual methods, one also finds renowned theologians who supported the practice and argued for
its validity from a theological perspective. However, the response to or acceptance of this practices is

CONTACT M. Sajjad Alam Rizvi sajjadalamrizvi@[Link]

© 2018 Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 341

far from unanimous. Sufis and theologians have rigorously contested this practice.3 Therefore, we
find different attitudes ranging from active performance to cautious acceptance, to complete
rejection of this practice. The non-Sufi theologians reject samā‘, which, in their views, exemplifies
the illegality of music in Islam. This controversy over samā‘ began as early as the ninth century. By
the twelfth century, we find a rich literature on this subject. The topics of dispute are manifold,
ranging from the legality of listening to music and musical instruments, to the question of who is
permitted to be present in a samā‘ session. The dance (raqṣ) which is associated with samā‘ and the
religious ecstasy achieved through it were major topics of dispute. Muslim scholars have debated the
proper medium for samā‘, the types of musical instruments permitted, and the associated actions
such as clapping the hands, stamping the feet and rending the clothes. They have also discussed the
use of erotic poetry in expressing love for God and the participation of the un-bearded youths in the
assembly of mystical audition. The debate between Muslim legists concerning the propriety of samā‘
has generated arguments both in favour of and against this practice.4 Leonard Lewisohn has
observed that from the very earliest days of Islam, one finds a number of authorities who endorsed
the legality of listening to music and a number of others who rejected all music as immoral and
irreligious, as well as those who maintained the ‘golden mean’ in this debate – in turn advocates,
adversaries and moderates.5
The literature on samā‘ reveals that the majority of the arguments both in favour of and against
samā‘ are afforded by the Qur’an and the ḥadīth (traditions/sayings and practices attributed to
Prophet Muhammad). However, opposite conclusions are drawn from the same verses or tradi-
tions. This literature focuses on the theological (legal and illegal) dimension of samā‘ in Sufi
practices.6 However, contestation on this issue is also informed by the ways emotional effects
(experiences, moments, states and stages) were evaluated and the emotional styles privileged by
the Sufi scholars. I define emotional styles in a way that they include various ways (‘modes’) of
thinking about, controlling, cultivating and expressing emotions.7
Seyyed Hossein Nasr writes:

The question of the significance and legitimacy of music in the total structure of the Islamic tradition is not,
however, merely juridical or theological. It involves most of all the inner and spiritual aspect of Islam, and
therefore whatever ambiguities exist on the juridical level, the ultimate answer, especially as far as the
relation of music to Islamic spirituality is concerned, must be sought above all in Sufism. Numerous Sufis
have written on this subject and some have themselves been both accomplished musicians and authorities
on the psychological and spiritual effect of music upon the human soul.8

In general, however, the anti-musical bias was but a reflection of much wider debates and differences
which had existed between Islamic puritanism and mysticism from the earliest days of Islam – the
former group stressing divine transcendence and the role of law and the latter camp emphasizing the
power of faith, immanence and love. Arthur Gribetz suggests that ‘the difference of opinion regarding
samā‘ can be viewed as part of a larger controversy which existed between the Sufis and the legalists,
namely the Sufi support of the Neo-Platonic “eros” doctrine, and the orthodox support of the “nomos”
doctrine.’9 A completely different level of rationalization of samā‘ is the Sufi’s attempt at explaining
what samā‘ accomplishes on the spiritual plane. Abū Hāmid al-Ghazālī elucidates the purpose of
music, explaining its relation to the aḥwāl (sing. ḥāl, temporary/fleeting mystical states): The purpose
of music, considered in relation to God, is to arouse longing for Him and passionate love towards
Him, and to produce states in which He reveals Himself and shows favours, which are beyond
description and are known only by experience. The Sufis describe these states as ecstasy. The hearts
attain these states through hearing music. It is due to the mystic relationship which God has ordained
between the rhythm of music and the spirit of man.10
Some recent works have also dealt with the contemplative practices and musical traditions in
their treatment of Sufism. Arthur F. Buehler, in his recent work, analyzes the Sufi practices and
holds that the vast majority of Sufi practices has little or nothing to do with an esoteric
transcendence but is rather focused on contemplative activity. He has also dealt with the
342 M. S. A. RIZVI

experience of ecstasy or some other altered state of consciousness. He says that Sufi literature is
replete with ecstatic utterances, often overtly at odds with Islamic theological norms. According to
Buehler, these expressions have come from the intensity of what the Sufis have experienced in
altered states of consciousness (which sufis call a hal) in ecstatic attraction to God and over-
flowing love. He considers the transformative practice as a gateway to beyond-the-rational-mind
ways of knowing that Sufi experience. It is seeing, or more properly, witnessing with the eye of
heart instead of with one’s physical eyes. This witnessing is done contemplatively in the heart and
sometimes experienced in an altered state of consciousness.11 Hans Harder, in his study of the
Maijbhnadris of Chittagong, has also brought fresh insights to the mystical practices and popular
musical tradition in the context of Bengali Islam. He has explored texts, hagiographies, practices
and songs and engaged with scholarly debates on ‘syncretism’ or ‘little tradition’ with special
reference to Islam in Bengal. Harder has also devoted a chapter to the discussion of the
Maijbhandari order.12
In this article, I survey the writings of a few Muslim scholars who have discussed samā‘ by
drawing upon earlier writings/texts. Their attitudes to samā‘ are different as they appropriated
various existing disciplinarily traditions – theology, philosophy, medical knowledge (ṭibb) and Sufi
psychology – to explain their perspectives either by supporting it or by denouncing it. Contrary to
the commonly held view that the reformist discourse privileged a move away from popular and
ecstatic practices towards an interpretation of the sharī‘a, the Sufi texts of this period reveal a
contestation on the issues of ecstasy and music. In this debate, they were referring to different
conceptualizations of emotions.13
This study of Sufi texts draws on scholarly works in the field of history of emotions, which is
regarded as a means of integrating the category of ‘emotion’ into social, cultural and political
history.14 Emotions are influenced by social factors and undergo change both in the way they are
individually expressed and socially valued. Emotions also induce change by motivating people’s
decisions and actions and by influencing social, economic and political developments.15 However,
despite the increasing interest in the history of emotions, there is no unanimity about what
‘emotions’ mean; instead, we come across various definitions of what can be categorized as
‘emotions’ coming from psychology, anthropology, sociology, philosophy and other disciplines.
Some definitions focus on the ‘inner’ side of emotions, the experience, some on the ‘outer’ – the
expression or bodily manifestation. William James, in his famous article, defines emotions as the
awareness of physical arousal.16 According to this view, emotions are located in the body. The
cognitivist psychologists and philosophers do not regard bodily component as the essence of
emotion. For them, it is a mental state, related to appraisals, evaluations and judgements, while
bodily arousals are secondary and non-essential for understanding emotions.17 According to
Barbara Rosenwein, there are two dominant views regarding the study of emotions. The ‘cognitive
view’ considers emotions as part of a process of appraisal, resulting from judgements about
whether something is likely to be good or harmful as perceived by each individual. Although
most cognitive psychologists believe that there are certain ‘basic emotions’ true of all human
beings, they say that the physical and mental capacity of having emotions is universal but the ways
those emotions are themselves felt and expressed depend on cultural norms as well as individual
proclivities. According to the ‘social constructionist view’, emotions and their expressions are
shaped by the society in which they operate. Rosenwein, writing about emotions in the medieval
period, thinks that both the cognitive and constructionist views together ‘point a way to a history
of the emotions that looks at two complementary issues: what people consider conducive to their
weal or woe and what possibilities cultures provide for the expression of their feelings’.18
The study of emotional norms forms one of the major themes in the history of emotions.
Terms such as ‘emotionology’, ‘feeling rules’, ‘emotional standards’ and ‘emotional styles’ have
been employed to describe the attitudes which a society maintains towards basic emotions and
their appropriate expressions. These norms change with the passage of time, and in consequence
this change has its impact on emotional experience.19 These emotional norms and styles are
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 343

shared by ‘emotional communities’, a term coined by Rosenwein to refer to social groups in which
people share values and interests. Each emotional community privileges certain emotions and
downgrades others and prescribes rules for their expression or suppression. These emotional
communities co-exist alongside one another, and they may intersect at certain points. Rosenwein
points out that the ‘emotional communities’ allows for more pluralism than William Reddy’s
‘emotional regime’/‘emotional refuge’.20
According to Monique Scheer, these explanations still face the problems of dichotomies between
body and mind, structure and agency, as well as expression and experience. Therefore, drawing on the
concept of habitus as explained by Pierre Bourdieu, she uses the term ‘emotional practices’ to understand
emotions as emerging from the bodily dispositions conditioned by a social context, which always has
cultural and historical specificity. According to Scheer, access to emotions-as-practice – the bodily act of
experience and expression – is achieved through and in connection with other doings and sayings on
which emotions-as-practice is dependent. She terms these ‘doings and sayings’ as ‘emotional practices’
which build on the embodied knowledge of the habituated links that form the complexes of mind/body
actions.21 Benno Gammerl proposes to expand the scope of the previous approaches that were informed
by rather monolithic understandings of emotionality and study emotional styles as community-based or
spatially defined emotional styles that were simultaneously performed within larger socio-cultural
contexts. According to Gammerl, ‘emotional styles’ encompass the experience, fostering and display
of emotions and oscillate between discursive patterns and embodied practices as well as between
common scripts and specific appropriations. This notion of style, according to Gammerl, although
similar to ‘habitus’ is different from the concept of ‘emotional habitus’ as style implies more malleability
and plurality which are required to focus on ‘coexisting modes of thinking about, handling, generating
and showing emotions’. He says that capturing these multiplicities of co-existing styles and analyzing
their interactions enhances our understanding of the diachronic variability and synchronic diversity of
emotional patterns and practices. These styles correspond with the notions of community. But Gammerl
says that emotional communities are congruent with pre-existing politically, culturally or otherwise
defined groups, and the emotional styles are in this sense secondary. Therefore, he does not take
emotional communities as based on pre-existing identities.22
In this article, I use the term ‘emotions’ to refer to moral virtues and vices (akhlāq) as well as
mystical states and stages (aḥwāl wa maqāmāt). I use ‘emotional styles’ as a heuristic device to
study different Sufi groups and the emotional styles they prescribed and to trace the shifts that led
to the emergence of new styles. The contestation on samā‘ was based not only on the norms and
practices, but it also revolved around different conceptualizations of emotions. These conceptua-
lizations were derived from or informed by the ideas and knowledge on emotions available to the
actors during the specific period of our study.23 This survey of the texts on the theme of mystical
audition, emotional effects, sharī‘a and psychology will follow a chronological order, starting from
the eighteenth century and ending in the twentieth century.

Mystical audition, sharī‘a and emotions in the eighteenth century

During this period, Sufi scholars in South Asia have discussed the theme of samā‘ along with other
mystical practices to refine the soul and cultivate divine love. They have different perspectives but
reconciliatory attitudes towards this practice. Most of these scholars have reproduced what had
been discussed in the early Sufi texts, while some others have brought fresh insights to the
discussion by introducing new concepts or redefining the earlier ones such as consciousness,
will, heart, intellect, lust, desires, intoxication and sobriety.

Mystical audition, ecstasy and consciousness

Shaykh Kalīmullāh Jahānābādī (d. 1729) is a Sufi master of the Chishtī order which prescribed
samā‘ for its followers. He holds that samā‘ arouses longing and love that God has deposited in
344 M. S. A. RIZVI

the inner parts (sarā’ir) and the hearts (ḍamā’ir) of the human beings. The longing and love
appear, move and get intense when a person hears beautiful sounds because of the connection/
affinity between the sounds and the spirits. Therefore, Jahānābādī says, the desirability, permis-
sibility and prohibition of samā‘ are based on that love (‘ishq). If it is for the Creator, it will be
desirable. If it is so for persons whom the sharī‘a has forbidden to look at with desire or lust such
as the un-bearded boys or women other than the wife and the slave-girl, it will be considered as
prohibited (ḥarām). This specification, Jahānābādī explains, is applicable when samā‘ induces lust
in the listener; otherwise, there is no harm in listening to it. It is also permissible to listen to samā‘
for the sake of pleasure (nishāṭ). However, it will be undesirable for a person whose inner part is
devoid of all these (purposes) as it will be useless for him.24
Jahānābādī also says that samā‘ is either involuntary (hājim; literally attacker) which rouses the
heart or voluntary (mutakallaf; achieved through efforts) in which the listener diverts it to the
beloved such as the spiritual master, the Prophet or God. Samā‘, at times, leads to unveiling (one
of the stages of the mystical path) as it transforms and awakens (the listener).25 Jahānābādī
describes in greater details the proper code of conduct for a person who intends to attend the
assembly of mystical audition.26 Thereafter, he says that samā‘ is a divine fire in the heart. It
affects all. For the person who still has adulteration/corruption in his heart, this fire will purify his
density, and for the person who is pure, this fire will increase his purity.27
In his exposition of ecstasy, Jahānābādī explains three terms – ecstasy (wajd), finding (wujūd)
and emphatic ecstasy (tawājūd) – and says that the first word means grief and the second one
signifies finding. These are two states, generated by samā‘. Some of the people experience sorrow
while others are favoured with joy. In the former case, they have not achieved their goal, while in
the latter case they have reached their destination. In the former case, it is a secret between the
seeker and the sought, and in the latter it is a gift from the beloved to the lover. According to
Jahānābādī, some of the Sufi masters have said that ecstasy is the state of the heart caused either
by joy and happiness or by grief and sorrow. In the former case, the person overcome by ecstasy
will experience calmness in the midst of witnessing (the divine) due to the removal of the veil. In
the latter situation, he will make movements in the midst of the onslaught of longing as he has not
reached the destination. However, Jahānābādī suggests that one should keep in mind that knowl-
edge is superior to ecstasy because of which a person is exempted from religious duties as he is
unable to use his intellect which is the basis of rewards and punishments. But when a person
possesses knowledge, he is held obliged (to abide by the rules of the sharī‘a).28 Acquired/emphatic
ecstasy (tawājud), says Jahānābādī, is evoked with an effort. It is due to the manifestation of divine
favours and signs to the heart, perception of the expected things and aspiration for reaching the
goal. However, Jahānabādī warns that this should not be for ostentation and showing one’s status
among the brethren.29
In his discussion of samā‘, Jahānābādī reproduces the views of the earlier scholars without
acknowledging the sources or citing the references. However, he introduces a new dimension by
claiming that a person retains his consciousness while participating in the assembly of samā‘, even
if he loses his will/volition. Explaining the situation when a person is overcome by ecstasy,
Jahānābādī differentiates between will (ikhtiyār) and consciousness (shu‘ūr):

Will and consciousness are two different concepts. In the case of samā‘, the praiseworthy situation is the
absence of the former and presence of the latter. This is because the person overcome by ecstasy resembles
an angry man who is aware of his actions and their impacts. In the same way, a person overcome by ecstasy
has no willful control over the movements and pauses (of his bodily organs) but he is still conscious of the
meaning of the words, rending the clothes and gifting them to the singers.30

Thus, in Jahānābādī’s view, not all forms of ecstasy lead to the loss of consciousness, knowledge or
calmness nor do all of them always result in agitation. The stages of either voluntary spiritual way-
faring (sulūk) or involuntary attraction (jazb) should be kept in mind while analyzing the nature
of ecstasy that is experienced by a person in the mystical audition.
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 345

Mystical audition and the subtle components

Shāh Walī-Allāh (d. 1762), the leading scholar in eighteenth-century Delhi, is considered as the
thinker of crisis.31 He was concerned with the state of Islamic intellectual and spiritual life and
offered the methodology of reconciliation (taṭbīq) as a solution to the conflicting views of various
factions – the theologians, the philosophers, and the Sufi mystics – of his times.32 Today, a
number of religious movements in South Asia such as the Deobandīs, the Ahl-i-Hadīth, the
Barelwīs, the Jamā‘at-i Islāmī all refer to him to prove their viewpoints and positions on religious
beliefs and practices. However, they do not appear to have the same attitude as he did.33 Walī-All
āh did not prescribe samā‘ for his disciples, but he maintained a reconciliatory attitude to this
practice. His son, Shāh Abd al-‘Azīz (d. 1824), says that when Fakhr al-Dīn (d. 1783), the Chishtī
Sufi master, visited the religious seminary (madrasa) of Shāh Walī-Allāh and expressed his wish to
listen to samā‘ without musical instruments (mazāmir), he listened to it in the courtyard of the
seminary itself. However, when he wanted to listen to it with musical instruments, arrangements
were made in the house of his maternal aunt at a nearby place.34
Walī-Allāh’s exposition of samā‘ reflects his attempts to bring about reconciliation among
different Sufi groups. This he does by first explaining the moral virtues (akhlāq) and mystical
states/stages (aḥwāl wa maqāmāt) which are generated through the interaction between the three
subtle components (laṭā’if, sing. laṭīfah): heart, the soul and intellect. Walī-Allāh, by drawing upon
philosophy and mysticism, introduces a new perspective as he ascribes different emotions to the
interaction among the different subtle components. Classification of emotions as virtues and vices
is based on the domination of one subtle component (laṭīfah) over the other. In his attempt to
reconcile the different orientations of Sufism and practices prescribed by the Sufi orders, he has
tried to reconfigure the system of laṭā’if into a three-tiered model, with a total of 15 subtle
components. 35 I discuss only the five laṭā’if (soul, heart, intellect, spirit and mystery) which have
apparent connections with emotions and the theme of mystical audition.
Walī-Allāh attributes the origin of the laṭā’if to the three constituent parts of the spirit (rūḥ) –
airy spirit, rational soul and the celestial spirit – which generate the five laṭā’if (soul, heart, intellect,
spirit and mystery). The influence of the two subtle constituents (rational soul and the celestial
spirit) of the spirit differs according to the differences in the faculties of the airy spirit. The faculty
which is in the liver becomes the concupiscent soul. The faculty which is in the physical heart and
bears the established traits (malakāt) and the moral qualities (akhlāq) is the heart. The faculty which
is in the brain and possesses perception, imagination and apprehension is the intellect.36
The Sufi scholars of this period have provided detailed descriptions of the mystical stages in
their texts. Walī-Allāh attributes these stages to the five laṭā’if – the soul, the heart, the intellect,
the spirit and the mystery (sirr) – as he does in the context of the akhlāq. However, in the case of
akhlāq, he mentions only the soul, the heart and the intellect, but in the context of mystical states
and stages, he adds the spirit and the mystery (sirr) to the list. Walī-Allāh claims that the careless
interpretation of Sufi terminologies has resulted in confusion, and he wants to point out the
principle causes of this confusion once and for all. He says that these words have several mean-
ings. For example:

Soul (nafs) is used to denote the source of life; in this sense it is equivalent to the spirit (rūḥ). Sometimes it
implies the human disposition (ṭabī‘at) which demands food and drink. Soul is also used to describe the
concupiscent soul as this has been mentioned earlier that the human nature (ṭabī‘at) dominates the heart
and intellect and makes them subservient. This produces many vices (razā’il). The sum total of these vices is
named as carnal soul (nafs). Heart (qalb) sometimes means the physical heart and at times it signifies the
subtle component (laṭīfah) that perceives; in the second sense it is equivalent to the intellect. But what we
mean by heart is the human spirit that bears the psychological qualities (ṣifāt-i – nafsāniya) such as anger
and shame and it is supported by the soul and the intellect in this regard. Intellect (‘aql) means knowledge or
the faculty of knowledge. In this sense, it is an accidental property/quality (‘arḍ) and not a self-subsistent
essence (jawhar). Sometimes it is used to refer to the essence of the spirit since some of its functions include
perception. What we mean by intellect is the perceptive faculties that imagine and verify, so that the heart
346 M. S. A. RIZVI

and the soul may follow it and a coordinating function may arise between the temperaments of the
perceptive faculty and the assistance (imdād) of the heart and the soul. These three laṭā’if are spread
throughout the entire body; however, the heart has its foothold in the physical heart, the soul has its
foothold in the liver and the intellect has its foothold in the brain.

In the same way, the word spirit (rūḥ) at times is used to describe the source of life; and sometimes it means a
gentle breeze which runs through the body of flesh and blood. It also signifies the celestial spirit which was
created thousands of years ago before the creation of man; which had made the covenant; which had some of
its ‘descents’ (tanazzulāt) exhibited. What we mean by rūḥ, in this context, is the same heart which has given
up the earthly characteristics when its resemblance with the rational soul and the celestial spirit become
dominant. Similarly, mystery (sirr) has not been ascribed any particular meaning either in the dictionaries or
the sharī‘at. This word itself means mystery, secret or concealment. Each of the laṭā’if is concealed. That is why
people use the word, mystery (sirr), sometimes for the intellect and sometimes for the spirit. What we mean by
mystery (sirr) is precisely the intellect after it has given up earthly inclination and is controlled by the
characteristics of the celestial world and thus witnesses the great theophany. In the course of this discussion,
it has been established that the laṭīfah of spirit (rūḥ) is superior to the body but it has its place in the physical
heart. The laṭīfah of mystery (sirr) is superior to the body but it has its place in the brain.37

Walī-Allāh sums up his discussion of these laṭā’if by saying that because of the differences in the
technical terms used by the Sufi writers, the intended meanings may not be clear, and the
intention becomes difficult to understand.
Walī-Allāh has discussed samā‘ with reference to the three subtle components: the carnal soul,
the heart and the intellect. He elaborates that sometimes a person is ruled by the natural faculties
of his carnal soul. Both his heart and intellect are subservient to them. By nature, such a person
goes wherever he likes without the permission of law (sharī‘a) or reason and does whatever he
wishes and sinks even lower than this and does not take the slightest note of the law. He plunges
himself into such indulgences as gluttony, drinking, listening to musical instruments (mazāmīr)
and other actions.38 This passage, in Walī-Allāh’s book, is from the section in which he describes
ways to refine the laṭā’if in the light of moral philosophy. However, he suggests that the rulings
and regulations of the sharī‘a provide guidelines for the refinement of moral qualities and virtues.
Walī-Allāh has also discussed samā‘ in the context of the mystical stages under the section in
which he explains the Sufi path (ṭarīqa). In this section, he describes samā‘ under the mystical
stages of the heart and the intellect. He defines ecstasy as the engagement of the heart with any of
the states of shame, grief, repentance, dislike of the world and other such mystical states in such a
way that the organs are dominated by it. [……] Ecstasy, according to Walī-Allāh, can also be
achieved by listening to good songs (aghānī) and effective harmonic cadences, which naturally
appeal to the heart. However, he warns that without continuous worship, one should not listen to
songs or harmonic cadences.39 He says that without continuous worship or certainty that is
poured to the intellect, the human nature is moved by delicious songs (naghmāt) and harmonic
cadences in the same way as the animals are affected by the songs (aghāni) and cadences. Some
people consider it as an important thing and count it as one of the stages of the friends of God
(awliyā). Walī-Allāh exclaims, ‘God forbid! How can a stage common to men and animals be
interesting?’ However, he says that if this nature is linked to continuous worship, then it should be
seen whether the result inclines to the lower or the higher faculty.40
Walī-Allāh has also discussed the role of the intellect in the practice of listening to mystical
audition. He explains that the intellect exercises its influence in comprehending the Qur’an and
sayings of the predecessors that come to a person’s ears and in grasping the purpose of each
sentence, interpretation of each hadīth and the reflections/subjective association (i’tibārāt) and
allusions conveyed by the verses or words. Spiritual illuminations will appear to him in their most
complete forms. All of these are the fruits of refinement and the benefits of training.41 Discussing
the stages related to the intellect, Walī-Allāh explains that most of the Sufis have failed to
understand the difference between subjective association (i’tibār) and objective/implicit meaning.
Association is the product of the stage which the mystic has reached and the words he hears. One
can observe how the lover is reminded of his own tale of pain and woe and the acceptance or
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 347

refusal by his beloved when a Sufi singer (qawwāl) relates the story of Majnūn and Layla (legendry
Arab lover and beloved). As a result, he is either delighted or highly disturbed. But this is not the
story of Layla itself, nor is it to be inferred from it; rather it arises through the intimate association
of the listener’s developmental stage with the words he hears. The main point about association is
the transference of understanding, not the particular modes of expression.42
In this discussion, Walī-Allāh acknowledges the role of mystical audition in arousing ecstasy
and other mystical stages, but at the same time he exhorts that one should listen to songs and
harmonic cadences only when he is in the state of constant worship. In his attempt to reconcile
the practices, preferred by the various Sufi orders, Walī-Allāh describes their roles in the refine-
ment of the laṭā’if:
In details, loud recollection (zikr) with strong ḍarabāt (forces/beatings), breath-control, the spiritual instruc-
tions transmitted by the Naqshabandī masters, listening to songs (naghma) that arouse longing – all of these
bring the heart to life. Continuous cleanliness, recitation [of the Qur’an], awrād (prayer formulas taken from
the Qur’an and recited continuously) and the uwaisī relation with the spirits of the awliyā (friends of Allah) –
all these nourish the spirit.43 In the same way, meditation on the attributes of God and contemplation over His
names brings the intellect to the seat of splendor. The practice of remembrance (yād dāsht) without sounds
and words, which is a Naqshbandī practice, will awaken the faculty of mystery (sirr).44

According to Walī-Allāh, after perfecting the spiritual journey of the laṭā’if, one has to deal with the
same laṭīfah which is strong in its original nature. Thus, the person of strong heart will possess ecstasy,
longing and agitation till the last time, even if he has refined all the laṭā’if. The person of intellect will
find delight in contemplations and spiritual manifestations, although his spiritual journey has
encircled all the laṭā’if. Similarly, the man of the spirit will enjoy all that is pertinent to the spirit,
while the person of mystery (sirr) will enjoy the pleasures associated with the laṭīfah of sirr. Each party
is happy with what it possesses. Therefore, one should not think ill of a kāmil (perfect person), if
certain things happen from him, as he is doing justice to the laṭīfah, dominant in him.45

Mystical audition, taste, sobriety and intoxication

Mirzā Maẓhar Jān-i Jānān (d. 1781) was a Sufi master of the Naqshbandī-Mujaddidī order. The
founder of this order, Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindī (d. 1624), did not prescribe samā‘ for his disciples
and opposed this practice. He claimed that it led to intoxication instead of sobriety. Despite Jān-i
Jānān’s affiliation with the Naqshbandī-Mujaddidī order, he had a reconciliatory attitude to this
emotional practice. He acknowledges the effect of samā‘ in invoking and cultivating the mystical
stages (emotions) in one of his letters. The letter is reproduced below:
The truth is this that there are two types of samā‘. The first one is that a person who is not a source of
temptation/disturbance (fitna) recites versified words with metrical/rhythmical melody and without perpe-
trating any unlawful activity and does not create any impious feeling/disorder (fasād) in the inner part
(bāṭin) of the listeners, rather it generates joy or grief in the hearts of the listeners. How will it be considered
as unlawful? In the first century of the Islamic calendar (qarn awwal), it was practiced in lawful ceremonies
such as marriages and the occasions of arrival of the elders. The pious persons and the scholars, sometimes,
had participated in them as it is evident from the books of ḥadīth. However, this practice of the elders was
occasional rather than habitual (iltizām). The second type is that which later extremists have introduced.
They have adopted it extremely and mixed it up with unlawful things. This type of samā‘, because of the
unlawful things, has moved from the stage of a permissible practice to that of an unlawful one. Some perfect
Sufis do not participate even in lawful samā‘, because it is related to ‘taste’ (dhawq) not to the rules of the
sharī‘a. For example, a drunkard might abhor the taste of sweet food, and an opium eater might hate salty
food; yet this is not to say that they consider the food of the other unlawful. In the same way, the spiritual
relation (nisbat) of the Chishtīs is like the intoxication of wine. They preferred noise and music to silence,
while the spiritual relation of the Naqshbandīs is like that of the opium-eaters who enjoy silence. The
difference is purely due to diverse tastes and temperaments and it has nothing to do with the faith or
adherence to the sharī‘a. The great ones of all the true Sufi paths obey the religion (dīn and millat), and do
not follow their desires (hawā and ṭabī‘at). They all agree upon avoiding the impermissible things (ghair
mubāḥ). The illiterate of both sides do not deserve any consideration. Both the extremes are forbidden. For
348 M. S. A. RIZVI

detailed treatment of this issue, one should consult the books of scholars such as Imām Ghazālī and Shaikh
(Shihāb al-Dīn) Suhrawardī. As for myself, I thank Allah that I have repented from the impermissible samā‘
and have finally given up the permissible one.46

Mirzā Maẓhar Jān-i Jānān, instead of discussing the issue of Sufi samā‘ in legal terms, says that it
should be evaluated by focusing on sobriety and intoxication which are related to the diffident tastes
and natural dispositions. Therefore, he does not rule out Sufi samā‘ as completely against the rules
of sharī‘a; rather, he accepts it as being practiced by the early Sufis who abided by the sharī‘a.
Thus, in the eighteenth century, Sufi scholars had a reconciliatory attitude towards samā‘ either
by reinterpreting or by redefining various Sufi concepts. However, they have also expressed their
concerns for reform as they have asked to observe the proper code of conduct and follow the rules
that have been prescribed for the assembly of mystical audition.

Mystical audition, sharī‘a and emotions in the nineteenth century

The texts, produced in the nineteenth century, reveal the polemical nature of the discussion which
is noticeable in the fatwā literature. The members of the Tarīqa-i Muhammadiyya (also called as
the ‘Wahhabi Movement in India’) had vehemently criticized the practice of samā‘ along with
many other Sufi practices and rituals by redefining the concept of love and by referring to the
Path of Prophethood and the Path of Sainthood. However, there were other scholars who had
justified this practice by reinterpreting the sharī‘a and by explaining emotions such as love.

Mystical audition and legality of musical instruments

Qāḍī Thanāullāh Pānīpatī (d. 1810), a disciple of Mirzā Maẓhar Jān-i Jānān, has written a tract in
response to a query about the legality of samā‘. The person, asking the query, had described the
Sufis who listened to samā‘ with musical accompaniments as infidels (kāfir). Pānīpatī advises him
not to make haste in branding a person as kāfir as it might lead to accuse some pious predecessors
of blasphemy.47 Pānīpatī mentions the name of Shaykh Abd al-Quddūs Gangohī (d. 1537, a
Chishti Shaykh) who, in spite of possessing perfection in external religious knowledge (‘ilm ẓāhir)
and high status in inner knowledge (‘ilm bāṭin), used to regularly listen to samā‘ with musical
accompaniments. Pānīpatī has cited a few sayings of Prophet Muhammad and the views of
Muslim jurists to caution against declaring any person as infidel.48
Thereafter, he says that no clear Qur’anic verse prohibits listening to samā‘; however, he admits
that there are verses which condemn distracting amusements (lahw). According to Pānīpatī, there is
ambiguity in the Prophetic traditions (ḥadīth) on the issue of permissibility and impermissibility of
samā‘ with musical accompaniments as some of them prohibit it while in others it is reported that
the Prophet either himself listened to it or permitted others to do the same.49 Due to this ambiguity,
according to Pānīpatī, Imām Abū Hanīfa considered it impermissible (ḥarām) as a precaution.
According to Pānīpatī, Imām Shāfi‘ī declared only that form of samā‘ impermissible which is for
distracting amusement (lahw) or it may lead to disorder/distraction (fitna) while he described as
permissible (mubāḥ) the ghinā (song; singing) which is for a right purpose such as announcing the
solemnization of a marriage. Panīpatī further says that one will find similar views in the books of the
Ḥanafī scholars.50 Pānīpatī also cites Abū Hāmid al-Ghazālī who applies the aḥādīth, which
prescribe the impermissibility of ghinā, to situations where it brings out the Satanic intention,
satisfies the carnal desires and leads to worldly love. But the ghinā that leads to divine love is the
desired one (maḥbūb), that is, worship. The ghinā which neither brings out the Satanic intention
nor does it lead to divine love is permissible as it resembles the ghinā which is listened to in happy
times and occasions.51 After reproducing the sayings of early Sufi scholars, Panīpatī explains:
This is written in the Iqnā‘ (?) that any song (surūd; ode; song; singing and dancing) that produces delicacy,
humbleness, longing for closeness to God, fear of punishment and divine wrath in the heart is a form of
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 349

worship.52 How will there be a possibility of distraction/diversion (lahw) and desire (hawā) when a person
listens to such music? Haḍrat Shaykh Shihāb al-Dīn Suhrawardī, one of the leading scholars and a leader of
the Sufis (awliyā) has said in the ‘Awārif (a famous Sufi text) that samā‘ attracts mercy from Allah, the
Generous. Khwāja Bahā al-Dīn Naqshaband says about samā‘, “I do not reject it. I do not indulge in this
practice.” Since his Sufi path was based on complete adherence to the Sunna (the practice of the Prophet)
and it is certain that it (samā‘) was not a habitual practice of the Prophet and his companions, he said that he
did not indulge in that practice. Since the impermissibility of samā‘ was not proved, he said that he did not
reject it. […….] The Prophet himself has ordered to beat the daf (single drum with only one skin) to
announce the solemnization of a marriage and that is why Imām Mālik has prescribed beating a daf as one
of the conditions for the marriage. How will drum, tambour, kettle-drum and other instruments be different
from the daf, when beating the daf is permissible? All are forbidden for distracting amusement (lahw) and all
are permissible for right purposes. Each can be used to announce a marriage. It is not wise to differentiate
between a daf and other instruments.53

Pānipatī also argues that even if the impermissibility of musical instruments is accepted, it would
be wrong to describe it as an absolutely impermissible practice as it is not based on any cogent
proof or conclusive evidence (dalīl qaṭ‘ī). He also says that on the supposition that it is forbidden
(ḥarām), its impermissibility is derived from aḥādīth āḥād (Prophetic traditions that have been
narrated by only one or a few narrators) which furnish only hypothetical/presumptive evidence
(dalīl ẓannī), and hence any person who rejects them will not be branded as an infidel.54 Pānipatī,
despite his affiliation with the Naqshbandī-Mujaddidī Sufi order, admits the permissibility of
samā‘ even with musical instruments for purposes such as divine love.

Mystical audition, love and reform

Sayyid Ahmad ‘Shahīd’ (d. 1831), who claimed to be a religious and political leader for South
Asian Muslims in the early decades of the nineteenth century, appropriated the Sufi structure of
authority by proclaiming himself a Sufi master. To maintain a distinct identity of his movement
and to put forward his programme of reform, he had to work at theoretical and conceptual levels.
This is borne out by closely examining the books written by Shāh Muhammad Ismā‘īl ‘Shahīd’ (d.
1831), the main ideologue of this movement. In Taqwiyat al-Imān, he rejects music for worldly or
mystical purpose. However, in Ṣirāṭ-i Mustaqīm, which he wrote to establish the spiritual
authority of his master, Sayyid Ahmad ‘Shahīd’, he expresses his position on samā‘ by redefining
the concept of love and dividing it into two types: Passionate love (ḥubb-i ‘ishqī) which is also
known as love of soul or psychological love (ḥubb-i nafsānī) and love of faith (ḥubb-i imānī)
which is also called as love of intellect (ḥubb-i ‘aqlī).55 He explains:
‘Ishq is anxiety and agitation which appear in the inner part of a person because of the loss of the object [of
love] and penetrates to all the hidden faculties. The lover aims at meeting the beloved. This love resides
firstly in the heart, the seat of all psychological states (nafsānī kaifiyāt) and secondly spreads to all hidden
faculties. When the aim is realized, the restlessness and agitation is quelled and the state known as ‘ishq
disappears. The love of intellect means the emergence of an urge and longing for the benefits and profits
when a person realizes that he stands in need of them. This love firstly resides in the intellect and secondly
spreads out to all the hidden faculties. The result of the first love is loss of knowledge and consciousness and
the lover forgets all even himself except the beloved, and that of the second love is the negation of intention
and whatever the lover speaks or hears, he does so from the beloved. Since the states and stages of hubb-i
imānī lead to Prophethood, it is named as the Path of Prophethood while those of hubb-i ‘ishqī lead to the
realization of absorption of all things in God, it is named as the Path of Sainthood.56

This division of love is based on the nature of emotions (agitation and calmness) experienced by a
person in his journey to the divine. Ismā‘īl, after ascribing love to the soul and the intellect, argues
that the Sufi samā‘ aims at fulfiling the desires of the soul. He also claims that a person
experiencing the love of soul will not have consciousness and knowledge, while the person blessed
with the love of intellect will possess knowledge but not intention. He further says that the love of
the soul is supported and strengthened by mystical self-discipline and by listening to sweet
melodies, charming voices, and stories and poems that instigate longing and love. The person
350 M. S. A. RIZVI

with this love does not even think of the pleasure of the beloved. If he is convinced that listening
to musical instruments, worldly love (‘ishq-i majāzī) and visualization of the image of the spiritual
master or any beautiful thing or face (shugl-i barzakh) are the means to approach the beloved, he
will do these things even if they are forbidden by Islamic laws.57
However, while discussing the mystical practice of listening to musical instruments, the text
shows a tension as Ismā‘īl does not consider listening to music as forbidden by the Islamic laws;
rather, drawing upon his conceptualization of emotions, he claims that there are others defects
that render this practice undesirable. He says that although listening to songs (ghinā) without
flutes or stringed instruments (mazāmīr) is not prohibited by the sharī‘a, this practice is not free
from defects. Such things are harmful for the beginners as well as for the persons who have
reached the destination. So far as the beginners are concerned, Ismā‘īl explains that it is essential
for the travellers on the spiritual path to God to fulfil the rights of the [carnal] soul but it is
harmful for them to follow the pleasures of the soul as they might lead to disorder (intishār) in the
senses, intellect and disposition. Practices such as samā‘ are not related to the rights of the soul.58
With reference to the Sufis who have reached the destination, Ismā‘īl rejects music on the basis
of the nature of emotions that are generated by it. He explains that any person with a sound
intuition can differentiate between the state (kaifiyat) of anger and the established trait (malaka)
of bravery. Although the state of anger and the emergence of its signs do not disturb the signs of
bravery, the dominance of that state (of anger) over the soul and the fulfilment of its demands,
even if they are permitted by the sharī‘a and the intellect, make the established trait of bravery
devoid of freshness. That is why a brave person possesses serenity and stability while an angry
person has short temper and loses his dignity. In the same way, according to sharī‘a, the
excitement and agitation caused by listening to good voice, in essence, are not related to divine
love. Such fleeting emotional states in comparison to the love of faith (ḥubb-i imānī) are like the
state of anger compared with the established trait of bravery. Ismā‘īl, acknowledges that no
explicit prohibition of such things has been reported from the Prophet because of a secret wisdom,
that is, these things are not directly related to evils as defined by the sharī‘a but the souls have
inclination to them and they are very common among the people. If they were explicitly forbidden
by the sharī‘a, one would have committed sin only by doing these things whether they were
leading to evils described by sharī‘a or not. However, he says that this practice should be avoided
as it may lead to certain evils such as the attachment of the heart with the un-bearded boys.59
Thus, Shāh Muhammad Ismā‘īl has rejected the mystical practice of samā‘ firstly by relating it to
the love of soul which results in the loss of consciousness and secondly by describing it as a
practice that may lead to sin. However, he too acknowledges that the sharī‘a has not categorically
forbidden this practice.

Mystical audition, sharī ‘a and emotions in the twentieth century

The debate that began in the nineteenth century resulted in the production of many texts that
were entirely devoted to the discussion of various aspects of samā‘ in legal and mystical terms.
Most of these texts were inspired by the arguments made in earlier periods and drew from
theology, philosophy and Sufi ideas and practices. I will attempt to analyze very briefly the views
of a few authors on this practice.

Legality of mystical audition, divine love and delicacy of heart

‘Abd al-Bārī Ansārī (1878–1926), a leading scholar from the Firangī Mahallī family, wrote a tract,
Iḥqāq al-Samā‘, in 1900 A.D. (1318 A.H.) to address the controversy over the permissibility and
impermissibility (ḥillat wa ḥurmat) of samā‘. The book contains 10 sections in which he discusses
this issue with reference to the Hanafī school of Islamic jurisprudence and describes the code of
conduct and the conditions a person is required to observe while listening to the mystical
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 351

audition. He reproduces various traditions to prove that samā‘ was practiced by the Prophet and
his companions. He also mentions the names of the Sufi masters who listened to this mystical
audition and concludes that those who describe samā’ as ḥarām accuse these masters of commit-
ting a forbidden act. He also says that samā‘ is permissible for persons who want to imitate the
Sufi masters. He reasons that these people, who imitate the Sufis, will cultivate emotions (jazbāt).
However, they, unlike the Sufis who have purified and refined their souls, will encounter certain
obstacles because of darkness of their soul (nafs). Like Pānīpatī, he opines that all types of musical
instruments are permissible for right purposes and impermissible for idle amusements.60 He says:
A person should not listen to mystical audition if he does not possess the eligibility for samā‘; his heart is
aflame with the desires of soul; he is inclined towards the pleasures of the world; he is not blessed with
divine love; he has forgotten the life hereafter (ākhirat); he does not have the delicacy of heart. For such a
person it is ḥarām to listen to mystical audition. Such mystical audition may lead to sins. […] Samā‘ is for
those people who have forsaken the world and seek the Lord. Therefore, a large number of scholars as well
as my predecessors and I say that it is ḥalāl for the eligible and ḥarām for the ineligible. I also request the
scholars who consider it ḥarām not to censure and condemn the Sufis who participate in this practice
because great scholars of sharī‘a and ṭarīqa, who were experts both in external and inner knowledge, have
observed this practice. They enjoy such a status that dishonor to them will lead to destruction.61

Mystical audition and musical instruments

Mawlānā Aḥmad Razā Khān (d. 1921), the leading scholar of the Barelwī school of thought, has a strict
standpoint on mystical audition with musical accompaniments. However, he acknowledges the legality
of audition without musical instruments. In a reply to a query, he says that musical instruments
(mazāmīr) are certainly ḥarām for distracting amusement and idle play (lahw wa la‘ib). He also claims
that it is a mere fabrication to attribute such a practice to the great masters of the Chishtī order. In this
context, Khān has cited Fakhr al-Dīn Zarrāwī, a disciple of Shaykh Nizām al-Dīn Awliyā. However, he
concedes that beating the drum to announce jihād, beating the kettle-drum to tell the time of last supper
during the month of Ramaḍān, blowing the trumpet to tell the time of public bath and beating the single
drum without bells are permissible as these are not instruments of idle amusement and idle play. In the
same way, Khān says that it is permissible for those pious people who have purified themselves from the
darkness and impurity of the soul (nafs) and have reached the stages of annihilation (fanā) and
subsistence (baqā) in the divine because they hear none except Allah and they know none except
Him. There is only divine manifestation. If some of them, after showing complete obedience to the
sharī‘a are overcome by a [mystical] state and after firm certainty and perfect satisfaction about no
immediate or ultimate possibility of any disturbance (fitna) have participated in this practice, there is no
problem in it as actions are judged on the basis of intentions.62 However, elsewhere he adopts a strict
stand against samā‘ for the non-Sufis even without musical instruments:
Samā‘ even without musical instruments is impermissible for distracting amusement and idle play, if the
singers are prostitutes, lady singers or un-bearded boys; if the songs consist of words that lead to sins such as
falsehood, calumniation of a Muslim or a Zimmi, the praise of wine, fornication, a living or dead woman or
an un-bearded boy. The wrong-doers and the sinners will be prevented from listening to the songs, even if
they are not accompanied by musical instruments; the singers are not a source of disturbance (fitna); the
listeners have no intention for amusement and idle play. Rather, they will not be allowed to listen to simple
amorous poems and odes which are sung to describe the garden, spring, the cheeks, faces, hair, beauty, love
(‘ishq), separation, union, loyalty of the lovers and indifference of the beloved. Samā‘ without musical
instruments will be permissible rather desirable for Sufis (Ahl al-Allāh) as songs do not produce a new state,
rather, they arouse the one that is concealed in the heart. If the heart possesses evil thoughts and desires,
they will strengthen them. But these songs will increase praiseworthy longing and auspicious love in the
hearts which are pure and clean from desires and full of love for Allah and the Prophet. Therefore, it can be
regarded as a great religious act with reference to such pious people.63

Thus, we can see that Mawlānā Aḥmad Razā Khān rejects samā‘ with musical instruments.
However, he says that some Sufis who are overcome by mystical states can listen to it. He further
352 M. S. A. RIZVI

elaborates that samā‘ without musical accompaniments is permissible for the Sufis as it arouses
love that is concealed in the heart.

Mystical audition and the possibility of sins

Mawlānā Ashraf ‘Ali Thānwī (d. 1943), a well-known scholar of the Deobandī school of thought, has
written a short tract on samā‘. In this tract, he has tried to show that samā‘ is ḥarām in the opinions
of the founders (imāms) of the four schools of jurisprudence. He also claims that samā‘, wherever
attributed to the leading scholars, should be considered to have been without musical accompani-
ments. Referring to Sufi classics, he has described the regulations that govern the assembly of
mystical audition in greater details. However, he claims that the mystical assemblies of his times do
not follow the rules and regulations. Therefore, in various sections of the book, he has tried to
persuade the readers not to indulge in this practice.64 He ends his book with an admonition:
The seeker of God must follow the safe and cautious path. The cautious path is to regard samā‘ as a
controversial practice and to view the evils that have crept into it either as absolutely (qat‘ī) or hypothetically
(zannī) prohibited. He himself should avoid it as much as possible. If he finds any person who complies with
the rules and regulations and does no harm to either himself or others, he should not stand in his way. If that
person does not abide by the rules, he (the seeker) should denounce that practice but he should not calumniate
or show disrespect to him as it may lead to disorder and enmity. Such a person may have some excuses or an
interpretative reason or he may participate in this practice due to some misconception. One should try to
persuade him not to indulge in it if there is hope for success. If not, he should be left alone and one should
pray to God for his correction and guidance. One should be very cautious and should not speak ills of the
persons who show signs of divine acceptance, piety and adherence to the sharī‘a but still listen to samā‘ due to
misconception, weak reasoning, overcoming of mystical states or wrong juristic interpretation. The conse-
quence is very great as enmity with the friends of God may result in the loss of faith. May God protect us!65

Muftī Muhammad Shafī ‘ (d. 1976), another scholar of the Deobandī school, has a similar view on
this practice. Shafī’, in his book, Kashf al-Qinā‘ ‘an Waṣf al-Ghinā (Islām awr Mūsīqī in Urdu),
analyzes the arguments both in favor of or against samā‘ in the light of Qur’anic verses, Prophetic
traditions and sayings and practices of the companions of the Prophet and the pious predecessors.
He also discusses the opinions of scholars of the four schools of Islamic jurisprudence as well as
the views and practices of the Sufi masters.66 Shafī ‘ suggests a moderate stand:
The opinions of the Muslim jurists about ghinā are controversial and each of them has proofs to justify his
position. Therefore, ghinā will remain a contested practice, even if we consider the reports about the samā‘
of Sufi master to be true. Therefore, some people denounce such masters who believe them to be in the right.
The best attitude towards this practice is to look at the situations and conditions. This has already been
discussed with reference to Fatāwā-i Khayriyya and Imām Subkī. If some people, known for their piety, have
participated in this controversial practice, let them do it with their juristic interpretation. However, if they
consider it impermissible but still are involved in this practice, we should have good opinions about them
and ascribe their practice to a situation of compulsion and involuntary state. Such persons are like a patient
who is in need of medicine. There is no doubt that ghinā, in the opinions of the Hanafi scholars, will be
permissible in situation of compulsion. We should not calumniate and speak ill of them lest we will be
deprived of their blessed breaths (nufūs) and mystical states. […].67

Shafī ‘ says that it is extremely difficult, rather impossible, in his time, to abide by the rules and
regulations, prescribed for samā‘. Even if some assemblies of samā‘ observe proper code of
conduct, it is impermissible because it leads to sins.68 God-fearing and pious persons, says Shafī
‘, should avoid the prohibited and controversial forms of samā‘ as the possibility of committing
sins and disturbance (fitna) in future will always remain even if we assume that at present it is free
from evils and sins.69
The survey of the literature produced during the twentieth century reveals the persistence of
contestation on samā‘. The authors have reproduced the arguments, articulated in the early Sufi
texts, either in favour of or against this mystical practice. In doing so, they introduced fresh
perspectives to the discussion by reinterpreting and redefining certain Sufi concepts and terms as
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 353

well as Sufi ideas and practices. Almost all the texts were concerned with issues related to the
legality and permissibility of this practice. However, all of them had to deal with the emotional
dimension of this practice. Therefore, we see that emotions and mystical states have also been
appropriated to either reject or privilege this practice. The proponents of samā‘ have referred to
divine love, taste, longing, ecstasy and other mystical states, while the opponents have mentioned
lust, sensual desires and sins as the results that are experienced in a mystical assembly. The
opponents also claim that even if this practice is reported from the early Sufis, it should be kept in
mind that they listened to it without musical instruments and in compliance with the rules and
regulations that were prescribed for the assembly of mystical audition. These authors have based
their exposition of the soul, heart and intellect on knowledge derived from Sufi theology,
psychology, philosophy and medicine. Most of these authors do not engage with the ideas and
concepts of ‘modern psychology’ even after some of the psychological texts had already been
translated into Urdu. In these texts, these translators or authors have engaged with modern
psychological thoughts and concepts and have used nafs, ‘aql, qalb and rūḥ and other terms,
which are commonly found in the Sufi texts.
However, we find some scholars who wrote or translated books on ‘modern’ or western
psychology in the twentieth century. In what follows, I focus on the writings of Mawlānā ‘Abd
al-Bārī Nadwī, Mawlānā ‘Abd al-Mājīd Daryābādī and ‘Allama’ Muhammad Iqbāl to delineate
their approaches to religious experiences and emotions in general and the practice of samā‘ in
particular. These scholars, even if they did not assume the role of spiritual masters, were closely
associated with the Sufi tradition. At the same time, they earned fame for their works in the field
of philosophy, psychology and religion. A close reading of their writings on mystical experiences
and practices reveals that in analysing or interpreting Sufi experiences and practices, they do not
refer to modern psychological ideas. Nadwī refers to earlier reformist writings on the contested
concept of love and the controversial practices of samā‘, while Daryābādī follows the reformist
discourse in his discussion of samā‘ in his book on Sufism and avoids to discuss the Sufi concept
of ‘ishq ḥaqīqī in his book on the philosophy of emotions. In this book, Daryābādī has analyzed
western and Indian philosophical traditions to conceptualize emotions. Unlike Nadwī and
Daryābādī, Iqbāl has seriously engaged with modern philosophical/psychological views about
religious knowledge and mystic experiences to argue that mystic experience is beyond the purview
of a psychology which privileges sense-perception as the only source of knowledge.

Love, intellect and mystical audition

‘Abd al-Bāri Nadwī (1886–1976), a scholar from Nadwatul Ulama, was a student of Allama Shiblī
Nomānī (d. 1914) and a contemporary of ‘Abd al-Mājid Daryābādī. Nadwī taught at Dakkan
College in Pune and Osmania University in Hyderabad. He wrote extensively in the field of
philosophy, science and religion and translated works of numerous western philosophers. Nadwī
pledged his spiritual allegiance to Mawlānā Ashraf Ali Thānwī and followed his reformist and
revivalist programme. He has explained the reformist ideas of Thānwī in a book, Tajdīd-i
Taṣawwuf wa Sulūk. Nadwī says that love is prerequisite for being a Muslim not to speak of a
Sufi. The teachings of Islam are free from both the extremes of excess and deficiency. In the same
way, with reference to ‘ishq and muḥabbat, natural or psychological agitation, loss of self-
consciousness (bekhūdī) and tearing of clothes are not commanded. However, the person who
has a week heart or he is overcome by any state will be excused. What is required is intense love
for God, which is described as love of faith (ḥubb-i imānī), and love of intellect (ḥubb-i ‘aqlī) not
the physical/natural (ṭab‘ī) love which is generally known as ‘ishq.70 He further says:
There is a big difference between natural/physical (ṭab‘ī) love and the love of intellect or love of faith.
Natural love is involuntary (originates without volition and will). Islam does not ask for involuntary things.
However, love of intellect or love of faith is voluntary. It depends on action. For example, if we like an action
intellectually and keep doing it again and again, love and affection for it will emerge automatically
354 M. S. A. RIZVI

(qudratan). In the same way, if we adopt an action in obedience to a person, love for that person will
emerge. Therefore, Allah, the Exalted has suggested the simple technique of voluntary love.71

Elsewhere, he says that if a person understands the difference between the voluntary and the
involuntary, he will easily follow the path to perfection of religiosity (dīn) and Islamic Sufism
(taṣawwuf) and spiritual way-faring (sulūk).72
Nadwī acknowledges that the Qur’an does commend the states of weeping and crying.
However, he discourages this practice and says that some people possess tenderness of heart
and often weep at trivial things. But there are some other people who do not have tender hearts,
but if they regret intellectually, it (intellectual regret) will be called a real weeping. Nadwī further
says that some people consider absorption and annihilation in the remembrance of God to the
extent of forgetting all others except God as a great achievement and perfection. It is not only
against human nature, but it also amounts to seek a state of compulsion instead of the state of
volition/intention which is the basis of human excellence and creative wisdom (takhlīqī ḥikmat).73
With reference to samā‘, Nadwī says that it is a controversial practice among the Ulama. The
Chishtī Sufis have preferred only one view of the Ulama. However, they have prescribed condi-
tions which allow no sinful act to enter it. Furthermore, the Chishtīs have neither described it as
essential for the Sufi path nor have they prescribed it for their followers. They have sometimes
listened to it for certain necessities or reasons. Now (in Nadwī’s time), there is no compliance with
the regulations and conditions with which the predecessors (akābir) had permitted listening to
samā‘. The persons who defame their predecessors, violate all the rules and regulations and
commit sins should listen to what Sultānul Awliyā Haḍrat Niẓām al-Dīn Awliyā has said. He
elaborates that there were four types of samā’: legitimate (ḥalāl), illegitimate (ḥarām), undesirable
(makrūh) and permissible (mubāh). If the person, overcome by ecstasy, is more inclined towards
the Reality (ḥaqiqat), it is permissible. If he is more inclined towards the Metaphor (majāz), it is
undesirable. If he is entirely inclined towards the Reality, it will be legitimate. If he is entirely
inclined towards the Metaphor, it is will be illegitimate. Thereafter, Nadwī discusses the condi-
tions and says that according to Niẓām al-Din Awliyā, samā‘ without musical instruments is
permissible.74 Thus, we see that in his exposition of love and samā‘, Nadwī draws on the views of
Shah Muhammad Ismā‘īl and Mawlānā Ashraf Ali Thānwī. He explains that one needs more than
the knowledge of human psychology to understand mystical concepts and practices and the
correct method of training for the spiritual journey to God:
The general principles about the desired and non-desired objects, voluntary and involuntary actions, natural
and intellectual (beliefs), activity and passivity, the demands of the nafs and their relevant actions can
provide solution to many problems of religious life and the path to God. However, not every person can
apply these general principles to their relevant specific cases. For this one must possess knowledge of human
psychology, the deceptive strategies of human soul, expertise in assessing the diseases and symptoms and
above all God’s grace and discernment/intuition of faith (imānāī farāsat). Hazrat Jāmi‘ al-Mujaddidīn
(Thānwī) was endowed with these qualities only by God’s grace.75

Psychology, physiology and emotions

Mawlānā ‘Abd al-Mājīd Daryābādī (1892−1977), a spiritual disciple of Mawlānā Ashraf Ali Thānwī,
was a contemporary of Shiblī Nomānī, Muhammad Ali Jawhar and Mawlānā Abul Kalām Azād. He
was associated with various institutions such as Aligarh Muslim University in Aligarh, Nadwatul
Ulama in Lucknow, Shiblī Academy in Azamgarh, and Royal Asiatic Society, London. Daryābādī
wrote and translated various texts in the field of philosophy, logic and psychology. Gradually, he
became a ‘rationalist’, and for almost nine years, he remained sceptical of religion. During this
period, he studied Buddhist philosophy and Hindu traditions and took keen interest in Sufism. He
visited shrines and attended the assemblies of samā‘. Daryābādī also acknowledges that shrine-visits
and devotion to saints (qabarparastī and pīrparastī,) helped him revert to Islam from atheism.76
Thereafter, he, along with ‘Abd al-Bārī Nadwī, became a spiritual disciple of Mawlānā Ashraf ‘Ali
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 355

Thānwī. Daryābādī wrote an exegesis of the Qur’an by the name of Tafsīr-i Mājidī and a book,
Taṣawwuf-i Islām, to present ‘the essence of Islamic Sufism and summary of the writings of the early
Sufis’. In his reviews of the various Sufi classical texts, Daryābādī has commented on the issue of
samā‘ and followed the programme of renewal and reform of his spiritual master. In his review of
Abū Naṣr al-Sarraj’s Kitāb al-Luma‘, he says that the theme of samā‘ is of utmost significance
among the Sufis. In this regard, the author has discussed the beauty of voice and sound and quoted
several sayings of the Prophet Muhammad (aḥādith). Thereafter, he has mentioned different
meanings of samā‘ and recorded the sayings of the Sufi masters, such as Junaid Baghdādī, Abul
Hasan Nūrī and others who participated in this practice. Then, he has devoted a chapter to discuss
the legality of samā‘ and has mentioned that some of the companions of the Prophet such as Abu
Bakr, Ayesha (the Prophet’s wife), Bilal and others listened to verses (she‘r). According to
Sarraj, Mālik bin Anas, ‘Abdullāh bin Ja’far, ‘Abdullah bin Umar and Imām Shāfi‘ī have permitted
listening to the singing of songs.77 Daryābādī says that Sarraj has appropriated their practice as a
proof to justify samā‘. In the context of special samā‘, he (Sarraj) has mentioned three groups: the
beginners and disciples, the middling (muṭawassitīn) i.e. sincere ones, and the Gnostics (‘ārifīn) and
people of stability. Thereafter, the author has discussed various aspects of samā‘ and has not ignored
the regulation and conditions, prescribed for its legality. In the last chapter, the author has dealt with
the views of people who either reject the legality of this practice or consider it as undesirable. The
study of these chapters, according to Daryābādī, teaches the Sufis of this (Daryābādī’s) time some
lessons. In his view, a comparative study of these passages and the recorded conversations
(malfuẓāt) as well as the hagiographies of the later Sufis shows the big difference between old
Islamic taṣawwuf and present-day Sufism.78
Like Nadwī, Daryābādī has focussed on the legal and moral aspects of the samā‘ in his review
of the Sufi classics. He has not discussed the emotional and psychological/physiological dimen-
sions of samā‘. However, in his book on the philosophy of emotions, he has dealt with the
emotional effects of melodious sound and analyzed the phenomenon of passionate love (‘ishq) by
situating emotions at the threshold of cognition, feeling and volition which are the constituent
elements of consciousness. In his exposition of nafs, Daryābādī says:

Psychological experiences are of three types. Firstly, some experiences influence the mental faculties. They
are called cognition (wuqūf). Secondly, some experiences affect sentiment (wijdān) along with knowledge
and apperception (‘ilm wa idrāk). In such cases, we have an agreeable or disagreeable experience. All mental
changes (such as grief, anger, wonder, happiness, love, fear, jealousy and others) that have an effect on
sentiment are named as feeling (iḥsās). Thirdly, in some psychological experiences, a person exerts his own
influence on the external elements instead of accepting their influences. For example, a person stands, sits,
walks, speaks and writes. All such voluntary movements are named as volition. According to Daryābādī, the
totality of these experiences is construed as consciousness (shu‘ūr).79

Along with cognition, feeling and volition, Daryābādī also acknowledges the role of nerves and
muscles in the emergence of emotions. He says that if the nerves function properly and within a
certain limit, human life gets strength and the nafs feels expansion (happiness). If their function is
disturbed, human life undergoes deterioration and the nafs feels contraction (sorrow). Daryābādī
explains that moderation in physical exercise gives happiness. The melodious voice of a musician
is enjoyable for a short time, but if he keeps singing for a long time, it will be burdensome and
taxing.80 In addition to this, Daryābādī also discusses physical and bodily changes and their role in
inducing emotions. He says that there is a difference between an emotion and its perception. The
perception of an emotion can happen without any physical changes while an emotion does not
emerge without them (physiological changes). This, according to Daryābādī, shows that physical
sings are not separate from the emotions. The sentimental experiences of like and dislike in the
invocation of the emotions must be accompanied by physical changes. Daryābādī says that if we
make some changes in some parts of our body, an experience of feeling, appropriate to those
changes, occurs. The people who work in theatres claim that sometimes they have the same
356 M. S. A. RIZVI

emotions which they want to communicate to the audience with the help of images, words and
bodily movements and pauses (ḥarākāt wa saknāt; bodily gestures).81 Daryābādī elaborates:
If however, after making physical changes, a person is unable to have the relevant emotions, he will have to
make use of his muscle and nerves (‘aḍlāt wa a‘ṣāb). There is a ḥadīth in one of the books of the Shī‘ī sect
which says that the person who weeps or makes others weep for Hasnain (Hasan and Husain) or imitates a
weeping person, will achieve equal rewards. According to Daryābādī, it does not matter whether this ḥadith
is authentic or not, however, there is no doubt that this narration contains an important point of psychology
which is neglected by people who claim that there is nothing common between a grieved person and a
person trying to imitate him. Daryābādī says that any person, by virtue of his personal experience, will
confess that one can have a real experience of grief after a long time of imitating a grieved person.82

Thus, Daryābādī, in his analysis of the philosophy of emotions, describes that cognition, feeling
and volition are the constituent elements of what we construe as consciousness. However, he also
discusses physiological and cognitive (nerves; muscles) dimension of emotionality. Therefore, he
has recognized the role of images, words and bodily movement in the emergence of emotions.
In the chapter, devoted to the discussion of sexual desire (shahwat), Daryābādī has also discussed
the emotion of passionate love (jazba-i ‘ishq). He says that ‘ishq is the name of a special form of the
emotion of sexual desire. All the stories of ‘ishq, after they are properly analyzed, will centre on this
very emotion of sexual desire. Daryābādī elucidates that desire for sexual union is named as shahwat
(lust; desire) if it is not directed to a specific woman, but it will be termed as ‘ishq if it is related to a
specific woman. In this case, this desire becomes so strong that a person feels excited and restless if
he is unable to achieve union with his beloved and he is ready to face any difficulty to achieve this
goal.83 However, in a footnote, Daryābādī explains that besides this ‘ishq-i majāzī (metaphorical
love; union between two human beings), there is also ‘ishq-i ḥaqīqī (real love) in which the beloved is
an immaterial entity and not a human being. Daryābādī says that he does not intend to discuss this
concept of love in this book. This love, according to Daryābādī, is based on the emotion of
attachment and intimacy (ulfat) which contain various other elements as well.84
In his exposition of the views about emotions, Daryābādī has referred to both the western and
the Indian philosophical and psychological traditions. Daryābādī acknowledges that his exposition
of emotions was in lines with the views of western philosophers. However, he says that knowledge
and wisdom are not the exclusive and sole property (mirāth) of only one nation. According to
Daryābādī, the philosophers of ancient India too had a philosophy of emotions.85 In this chapter,
Daryābādī analyzes and compares the western and Indian philosophical views on emotions and
consciousness. He writes:
Western philosophers describe three elements of nafs: cognition, feeling and volition while the Indian
philosophers analyse the nafs in three elements: cognition, desires/ichchā and effort/kiryā. In western
philosophy, volition includes desire and hence they are considered as synonyms. On the contrary, in
Indian philosophy, desire is a concept, different from volition. Effort is described as the third element of
nafs and it implies action as well. The origin of emotions, in Indian philosophy, is attributed to desires.
Pleasure and pains are not the attributes of the soul; rather they are the yardsticks to describe the quantity of
the three attributes (cognition, desire and effort) of the soul. Therefore, no attribute or activity of the soul is
free from the admixture of pleasure and pain. The nafs tries to maintain the conditions in which it finds
itself or tries to come out of them. The emotions of expansion and contraction, like and dislike, happiness
and grief emerge in the nafs in accordance with the expectation of fulfilling the desires. In this way, the basis
of emotions is firmly established in the depth of pleasure and pain.86

The basic emotions of human soul are six in number: love, respect, affection, anger, fear and arrogance. The
first three emotions are based on inclination (raghtbat) and attraction while the remaining three emotions
are based on hatred and repulsion. There are many other emotions which can be described as dependent as
they are the compounded forms of these basic emotions. The psychological experiences, which have the
slightest trace of desire, are counted as emotions. Therefore, we find western philosophers discussing many
psychological experiences under cognition while in Indian philosophy they are described as emotions.87

Daryābādī further says that according to the researches of western philosophers, emotions are
limited to only human beings and some higher species of animals, while the Indian philosophers
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 357

claim that all living beings and things of the universe have consciousness, albeit at different stages.
Therefore, animals, vegetables and minerals too have emotions in the same way as human beings
have different levels of emotions.88
Daryābādī avoids elaborating on the Sufi concept of ‘ishq-i ḥaqīqī in his discussion of the
philosophical aspects of emotions; however, he says that it is different from human love which is
induced by lust and sensual desire. Daryābādī also accepts that melodious voice induces pleasant
feelings in the listeners, but in his review of the Sufi classics on the issue of samā‘, he does not deal
with the emotional dimension of this Sufi practice either because of the assumption that religious
and mystical experiences cannot/should not be explained by philosophical and psychological ideas
or because of his ideological position in the reformist discourse.

Experience, philosophy and psychology

‘Allāma’ Muhammad Iqbāl (1877–1938), in his book, The Reconstruction of Religious Thought in
Islam, has discussed the philosophical ideas about the revelation of religious experience and
sources of knowledge. He says that ‘faith is more than mere feeling. It has something like a
cognitive content, and the existence of rival parties – scholastics and mystics – in the history of
religion shows that idea is a vital element in religion.’89 According to Iqbāl, ‘the main purpose of
the Qur’ān is to awaken in man the higher consciousness of his manifold relations with God and
the universe’. 90 He asks to treat religious experience as a source of divine knowledge.91 In this
context, he also claims that the Prophet of Islam was the first critical observer of psychic
phenomena.92 Therefore, ‘sense-perception must be supplemented by the perception of what
the Qur’an describes as Fu’ād or Qalb, i.e. heart’.93 Iqbāl explains that that ‘total-Reality, which
enters our awareness and appears on interpretation as an empirical fact, has other ways of
invading our consciousness and offers further opportunities of interpretation’. He elaborates:
The revealed and mystic literature of mankind bears ample testimony to the fact that religious experience
has been too enduring and dominant in the history of mankind to be rejected as mere illusion. There seems
to be no reason, then, to accept the normal level of human experience as fact and reject its other levels as
mystical and emotional. The facts of religious experience are facts among other facts of human experience
and, in the capacity of yielding knowledge by interpretation, one fact is as good as another.94

Iqbāl also delineates the importance of mystic experience and evaluates it in contrast to the views
of modern psychology:
For the purpose of knowledge, then, the region of mystic experience is as real as any other region of human
experience and cannot be ignored merely because it cannot be traced back to sense-perception. Nor is it
possible to undo the spiritual value of the mystic state by specifying the organic conditions which appear to
determine it. Even if the postulate of modern psychology as to the interrelation of body and mind is
assumed to be true, it is illogical to discredit the value of the mystic state as a revelation of truth.
Psychologically speaking, all states, whether their content is religious or non-religious, are organically
determined. The scientific form of mind is as much organically determined as the religious.95

In his critique of ‘newer psychology’, Iqbāl acknowledges that ‘in the elimination of the satanic
from the Divine, the followers of Freud have done inestimable service to religion’, but he claims
that ‘the main theory of this newer psychology does not appear to be supported by any adequate
evidence’. Thereafter, he argues that ‘a purely psychological method, therefore, cannot explain
religious passion as a form of knowledge. It is bound to fail in the case of our newer psychologists
as it did fail in the case of Locke and Hume’. 96 He further says that these experiences are perfectly
natural, like our normal experiences. The evidence is that they possess a cognitive value for the
recipient, and, what is much more important, a capacity to centralize the forces of the ego and
thereby to endow him with a new personality. According to Iqbāl, the view that such experiences
are neurotic or mystical will not finally settle the question of their meaning or value.97 Iqbāl, in his
analysis of religious and mystic experience, writes:
358 M. S. A. RIZVI

The question for us outsiders is to find out an effective method of inquiry into the nature and significance of
this extraordinary experience. The Arab historian Ibn Khaldun, who laid the foundations of modern
scientific history, was the first to seriously approach this side of human psychology and reached what we
now call the idea of the subliminal self. Later, Sir William Hamilton in England and Leibniz in Germany
interested themselves in some of the more unknown phenomena of the mind. Jung, however, is probably
right in thinking that the essential nature of religion is beyond the province of analytic psychology.98

In his analysis of a passage from Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī, Iqbāl says that when the Sufi reaches the
final stage of his spiritual journey, he gets rid of the physiological and psychological elements of
subjectivity and emotionality. This, according to Iqbāl, can be understood from the perspective of
religious psychology. He writes:
[The] practical student of religious psychology has a similar purification in view. His sense of objectivity is as
keen as that of the scientist in his own sphere of objectivity. He passes from experience to experience, not as
a mere spectator, but as a critical sifter of experience who by the rules of a peculiar technique, suited to his
sphere of inquiry, endeavours to eliminate all subjective elements, psychological or physiological, in the
content of his experience with a view finally to reach what is absolutely objective. This final experience is the
revelation of a new life-process – original, essential, spontaneous. The eternal secret of the ego is that the
moment he reaches this final revelation he recognizes it as the ultimate root of his being without the slightest
hesitation. Yet in the experience itself there is no mystery. Nor is there anything emotional in it.99

However, with reference to music, Iqbāl prefers the view that privileges sobriety instead of
intoxication. He praises Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī for his reformist efforts:
Indeed with a view to secure a wholly non-emotional experience the technique of Islamic Sufism at least
takes good care to forbid the use of music in worship, and to emphasize the necessity of daily congregational
prayers in order to counteract the possible anti-social effects of solitary contemplation. Thus the experience
reached is a perfectly natural experience and possesses a biological significance of the highest importance to
the ego. It is the human ego rising higher than mere reflection, and mending its transiency by appropriating
the eternal. The only danger to which the ego is exposed in this Divine quest is the possible relaxation of his
activity caused by his enjoyment of and absorption in the experiences that precede the final experience. The
history of Eastern Sufism shows that this is a real danger. This was the whole point of the reform movement
initiated by the great Indian saint from whose writings I have already quoted a passage. And the reason is
obvious. The ultimate aim of the ego is not to see something, but to be something. It is in the ego’s effort to
be something that he discovers his final opportunity to sharpen his objectivity and acquire a more
fundamental “I am” which finds evidence of its reality not in the Cartesian “I think” but in the Kantian
“I can.” The end of the ego’s quest is not emancipation from the limitations of individuality; it is, on the
other hand, a more precise definition of it.100

Thus, we see that some Muslim scholars, who wrote on ‘modern’ western philosophy and
psychology during the twentieth century, have emphasized the need of a ‘religious psychology’
(to borrow a term from Iqbāl). While analyzing the interface between ‘modern’ western philoso-
phy/psychology and religious psychology, these scholars have also kept in view their ideological
position and doctrinal emphasis. Nadwī speaks of psychology of human life and the discernment
of faith. Daryābādī accepts the role of consciousness and physiology in his conceptualization of
emotions but abstains from commenting on ‘isqh-i ḥaqīqī in his book on the philosophy of
emotions, and he finds a big difference between the Sufism of the early Sufis and that of the later
ones in his book on Islamic Sufism. Iqbal speaks of sense-perception and religious and mystical
experiences and asks to listen to the perception of the heart. However, he praises the reformist
efforts for privileging ‘non-emotional experience’ and sobriety.

Conclusion
Studies on South Asian Islam have traced an evolutionary trajectory of reform which started
with Shaykh Aḥmad Sirhindī (d. 1624), the founder of the Naqshabandi Sufi order, in the
seventeenth century, and was spearheaded by Shāh Walī-Allāh in the eighteenth century. This
was popularized by the Tarīqa-i – Muḥammadiyya of his grandson, Shāh Muhammad Ismā‘īl
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 359

in the early decades of the nineteenth century and resulted in the division of the South Asian
Muslims into different schools of thoughts. These works, based on the analytical categories of
reform and revival, have largely focused on sources dealing with the legal aspects at the cost of
overlooking the mystical, philosophical and theological perspectives that were closely linked to
the intellectual and religious traditions of Muslims in South Asia. Therefore, this article calls
for paying close attention to the internally established modes by which mystical practices have
been consciously negotiated. For example, the practice of mystical audition samā‘, which was
neither explicitly commanded nor apparently forbidden in the Qur’an and Hadith (the two
sacred sources of Islamic sharī‘a), has been justified on the basis of its emotional effects
experienced by some Sufis for the purification of the soul, acquisition of moral virtues and
repression of vices and finally cultivation of divine love. However, there were some others who
claimed that the emotions generated or expressed by this practice were inappropriate and
hence were not required. I argue that Muslim Sufi scholars in South Asia formed different
groups with overlapping and sometimes conflicting emotional styles. In the eighteenth century,
however, these groups accepted the multiplicity and plurality of these emotional styles and did
not reject or falsify the others, although each claimed the superiority of its own style. The
leaders of the Tarīqa-i Muhammadiyya (also described as Indian Wahhabism), in the early
decades of the nineteenth century, tried to propagate one singular emotional style which was
opposed by other Muslim groups. This resulted in an interminable contestation even among
the ‘reformist’ scholars in the twentieth century. To prove the appropriateness of their
respective styles, these groups referred back to the sharī‘a which again was subject to various
interpretations due to different conceptualizations of emotions. Some of them ascribed emo-
tions to the carnal soul, while others described them as the result of the inter-relationship
among different subtle components such as the carnal soul, the heart and the intellect.
Therefore, a reified notion of the sharī‘a will prove inadequate to investigate the multiple
expressions of Sufi practices. Here, I hold that privileging these styles by these groups was
based on their perception and evaluation of the developments in the socio-political context as
well as on their conceptualizations of emotions, informed by the various disciplinary tradi-
tions – theological, philosophical, mystical, medical and literary – that were appropriated by
the Sufi scholars. Most of the Sufi scholars in this period have not acknowledged the sources
they were drawing upon. However, a close study of the texts and their arguments reveals that
they have reproduced, reinterpreted or redefined the Sufi concepts, vocabularies and practices
to justify their views with doctrinal emphases reflecting various ‘schools’ in this contestation.
The study of the Sufi texts on samā‘ in the light of the theoretical framework of the history of
emotions reveals that the Sufi scholars have derived from the philosophical concepts of the
intellect, soul, heart and consciousness. However, they have brought new perspectives by redefin-
ing these concepts in lines with Sufi theology and psychology by describing them as subtle
components. Here, consciousness is the result of the interaction among the subtle components
of intellect, heart and the carnal soul. Thus, we have to pay close attention to Sufi ideas and
practices and Perso-Arabic philosophical and psychological traditions. Therefore, Kenneth S.
Avery says that there are certain varying and allusive components – the human psyche, external
and internal constitutions and supernatural aspects of the experience – which make the study of
mystical states very difficult.101 Avery further says that the notion of samā‘ is only understandable
within the theological and intellectual context of an Islamic world-view. The discussion in terms
of grace, revelation, divine gift, seeking the Truth and so on can only be given meaning within an
overall theology of Sufis. Similarly, the concept of ‘heart’ and its preparedness, recollection,
responsiveness and so on only make a sense as part of a Sufi psychology.102 Therefore, this
study calls for analyzing the internally established modes by which mystical practices have been
negotiated and contested in South Asian Islam.
360 M. S. A. RIZVI

Notes
1. al-Ghazālī, Iḥyā, Vol. 2, 268.
2. Lawrence, “The Early Chishti Approach,” 72.
3. Schimmel, Mystical Dimension, 179.
4. Shiloah, Music in the World of Islam, 31.
5. For details see, Lewisohn, “The Sacred Music”; and Choudhury, “Music in Islam.”
6. See Gribetz, “The Samā‘ Controversy.”
7. I define emotional styles in a way that they include various ways (‘modes’) of thinking about, controlling,
cultivating and expressing emotions. I take this definition from Gammerl, “Emotional Styles,” See also
Reddy, “Historical Research”. Reddy, however, maintains the distinction between norms and experience,
while Gammerl tries to overcome it.
8. Nasr, Islamic Art and Spirituality, 153–4.
9. For details see, Gribetz, “The Samā‘ Controversy.”
10. See note 1 above.
11. Buehler, Recongnizing Sufism (see introduction and chapter 6).
12. Harder, Sufism and Saint Veneration in Contemporary Bangladesh (see chapter 5).
13. I use ‘emotion’ as a convenient term to refer to the moral qualities and mystical stages throughout the
article with full knowledge that it needs to be qualified to describe various mental states, behavioural habits,
and social practices.
14. See Plamper, “The History of Emotions.”
15. See Frevert, Emotions in History.
16. See James, “What is Emotions.”
17. See Solomon, The Passions.
18. See Rosenwein, “Worrying About Emotions.”
19. See Stearns and Stearns, “Emotionology”; and Hochschild, “Emotion Work, Feeling Rules and Social
Structure”.
20. See Reddy, The Navigation of Feeling.
21. See Scheer, “Are Emotions a Kind of Practice.”
22. See Gammerl, “Emotional Styles – Concepts and Challenges.”
23. See Pernau, “Male Anger and Female Malice”.
24. Jahānābādī, Tilka ‘Asharah, 119–20.
25. Ibid., 120–1.
26. Jahānābādī says that there are three general conditions for samā‘: (1) One should not listen to it at the time of
obligatory prayers, eating, drinking or any distracting events. (2) The place should not be a public thoroughfare,
or ugly place. It should also be free from anything that attracts the heart. (3) The person who rejects samā‘,
pretends to be overcome by ecstasy or acts as a hypocrite should not attend the assembly. He will be ascetic
externally but arrogant internally. In addition to these conditions, Jahānābādī adds seven rules: (1) The listeners
should be with ceremonial ablutions. (2) At the beginning, the first as well as the one hundred and twelfth
chapters (Surha al-Fātiḥa and Surah al-Ikhlās) of the Qur’an should be recited three times and blessings upon
the Prophet should be invoked. (3) The members of the audience should not sit cross-legged; rather, they
should sit as they do while performing the daily prayers. (4) The singers should not aim at earning wages
(money). However, they should be given some things as gifts. (5) The members of the audience should not talk
or laugh intentionally. They should lower their heads and listen to the words of the singers without paying
attention to other directions or sides. They should take care of their hearts and avoid coughing and yawning. If
they are overcome with ecstasy without will, they are exempted. When they regain their will, they should return
to calmness and tranquillity. (6) When the Sufi, overcome with ecstasy, starts screaming and stands up, the
members of the audience too should stand up to show respects to him. They should take care of him without
controlling his bodily organs but they should try to pacify him so that he does break his bodily organs. When he
becomes calm, he should be kept in a corner and clothed in proper dress. If such a person asks the singers to
repeat the same verses, his wish should be given priority even if it is not liked by others. (7) The assembly should
conclude with the recitation of the first as well as the one hundred and twelfth chapters (Surha al-Fātiḥa and
Surah al-Ikhlās) of the Qur’an three times and the invocation of blessings upon the Prophet. The person who
does not take care of these rights (rules) of samā‘ will be called a heedless person who pursues his pleasures and
an innovator (mubtadi’) (Jahānābādī, Tilka ‘Asharah, 121–4).
27. Jahānābādī, Tilka ‘Asharah, 126.
28. Ibid., 126–7.
29. Ibid., 127–8.
30. Ibid., 122–3.
31. Rahman, “The Thinker of Crisis,” 44–8.
32. Hermansen, “Shah Wali Allah’s Theory,” 1–25.
SOUTH ASIAN HISTORY AND CULTURE 361

33. For For Shāh Wali-Allāh’s life, thoughts and works, refer to Hermansen, The Conclusive Argument and
Baljon, Religion and Thought.
34. al-‘Azīz, Malfūẓāt, 55–6.
35. They system of laṭā’if appeared in early Sufism and was developed and refined over time. Najm al-Dīn Rāzī (d.
1256), a Kubrāwiyya Sufi of Iran, formulated a system of five laṭā’if and found a Qur’anic basis for the terms sirr
and khafi (Qur’an, 20:7, ‘If you make utterances aloud, verily He knows the secret (sirr) and what is more
hidden (khafi).’ ‘Alā al-Dawla Simnānī (d. 1336), whose works influenced Sirhindī, expanded the system of
Najm al-Dīn Rāzī to a seven fold one by adding below the five laṭā’if the concept of physical frame (qālab) and
above them a further centre called the Haqqiyya (Reality) or Anāniyya (Selfhood). Sirhindī’s model then
expanded to represent the system of 10 laṭā’if with distinct symbols and practices. For a brief summary of the
development of this system, refer to Buehler, Sufi Heirs, 105–20. This system was finally developed by Shāh
Walī-Allāh into a three-tiered model, with a total of some 15 components. Shāh Walī-Allāh’s exposition of the
laṭā’if have been analyzed by Marcia K. Hermansen which can be summarized as follows: The Concealed Laṭā’if
(Angelic): (1) The Divine Essence (zāt al-baḥt) (2) The pure Philosopher’s Stone (al-hajr al-baḥt) (3) The
Greater Selfhood (al-ananiyya al-kubrā) (4) The Light of the Holy (nur al-quds) (5) The Hidden (khafi). Here,
Shāh Walī-Allāh seems to have drawn upon Ibn al-Arabī; however, he does not expound the functions of these
hidden laṭā’if in any great detail. But their operation and arrangement is integrated to his theory of progress
along the two paths of Sainthood and Prophethood. The Manifest Laṭā’if (Human): (1) Heart (qalb), (2) Intellect
(‘aql), (3) Spirit (rūḥ), (4) Mystery (sirr) (5), The most hidden (akhfa). The Lower Laṭā’if (Animalistic): (1)
Lower Soul (nafs), (2) Fire, (3) Water, (4) Air, (5) Earth. See Hermansen, “Shah Wali Allah’s Theory.”
36. Walī-Allāh, Alṭāf, 36.
37. Ibid., 22–3.
38. Ibid., 17–19.
39. Walī-Allāh uses the word continuous worship (dawām-i ‘ubūdiyat) to describe the various mystical
exercises. He says that this continuous worship is of two kinds. (I) One of them is related to the organs
and tongue. This is to spend times in recollections (azkār), recitation, prayers with peace of mind and
presence of heart. (II) The other one is related to the heart and the intellect. This is occupation of the heart
with love, its attachment to the beloved and involvement of the intellect in remembrance (yād kard; the
heart should always be aware of God) and awareness in breathing (hosh dar dam). (Walī-Allah, Alṭāf, 27).
40. Ibid., 29–30.
41. Ibid., 26–7.
42. Ibid., 31–2.
43. Uwaysī relation refers to the Sufi practice of establishing contact with the spirits of the dead saints for
spiritual blessing. Some Sufis have also claimed to be initiated into various Sufi orders by the spirits of the
dead saints.
44. Walī-Allāh, Alṭāf, 36–7.
45. Ibid., 37.
46. Ali, Ḥālāt, 116–18.
47. Pānīpatī, Risāla, 3–4.
48. Ibid., 4.
49. Ibid., 5–12.
50. Ibid., 12–13.
51. Ibid., 14.
52. I have not come across any text by the name of Iqnā‘. It may be a reference to al-Qinā (Kashf al-Qinā‘ ‘an
Uṣūl al-Samā’ of Fakhr al-Din Zarrawī, a disciple of Shyakh Nizam al-Din Awliyā. d. 1325).
53. Pānīpatī, Risāla, 15–16.
54. Ibid., 16.
55. Ismā‘īl, Ṣirāṭ, 4–5.
56. Ibid., 4–8.
57. Ibid., 10.
58. Ibid., 97.
59. Ibid., 97–9.
60. al-Bārī, Iḥqāq,
61. Ibid., 42.
62. Khān, Fatāwā, 79–80. Khān also refers to a famous hadīth which records Allah as saying: ‘A slave of mine keeps
coming closer to me with supererogatory prayers till I love him. When I love him, I become his ear with which
he hears; his eyes with which he sees; his hand with which he catches and his feet with which he walks.’
63. Khān, Fatāwā, 83–4.
64. Thānwī, Haq al-Samā‘.
65. Ibid., 26–7.
66. Shafī’, Islām awr Mūsīqī,
362 M. S. A. RIZVI

67. Ibid., 355–6.

68. Ibid., 357.
69. Ibid., 359.
70. Nadwi, Tajdīd-i Tasawwuf, 117.
71. Ibid., 119.
72. Ibid., 218.
73. Ibid., 228.
74. Ibid., 407–08.
75. Ibid., 231.
76. Daryābādī, Āp Bītī, 239–59.
77. Daryābādī, Taṣawwuf-iIslām, 26–27.
78. Ibid., 26–27.
79. Daryābādī, Falsafa-i Jazbāt, 32–3.
80. Ibid., 67.
81. Ibid., 90–1.
82. Ibdi., 91.
83. Ibid., 206–07.
84. Ibid., 207.
85. Ibid., 217.
86. Ibid., 218–19.
87. Ibid., 227–8.
88. Ibid., 228.
89. Iqbal, The Reconstruction, 1.
90. Ibid., 8.
91. Ibid., 14.
92. Ibid., 15–16.
93. Ibid., 14–15.
94. Ibid., 15–16.
95. Ibid., 22.
96. Ibid., 23–5.
97. Ibid., 179.
98. Ibid., 150–1.
99. Ibid., 186–7.
100. Ibid., 186–7.
101. Avery, Psychology of Early Sufi Samā‘. 86.
102. Ibid., 153.

Transliteration, Diacritics and Acknowledgement

All translations from Persian, Arabic and Urdu are mine unless otherwise stated. I have followed the IJMES
(International Journal of Middle East Studies) for transliteration and diacritics. The section of the article on the
eighteenth century is from my doctoral dissertation “Loving the Master? The Debate on Appropriate Emotions in
North India (ca. 1750–1830)” (PhD Dissertation, Freie Universität Berlin, 2012). An earlier version of the other
sections was presented at the Asian Studies Conference Japan, in association with International Christian
University, Tokyo (July 2016). I thank Professor Margrit Pernau, my doctoral supervisor, and Professor Seema
Alavi, for their support. I also thank my co-panellists at the Asian Studies Conference Japan, in particular, Soumen
Mukherjee and Rajarshi Ghose for their comments, as well as the anonymous reviewers for the journal. Thanks are
due to the Center for the History of Emotions, Max Planck Institute for Human Development, Berlin for the
doctoral fellowship and Presidency University, Kolkata for facilitating my participation in the Japan Conference.

Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

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