From approximately 1680 to 1758 AD, the Sufi mystic Abdullah Shah – Bulley Shah as he is lovingly addressed – weaved a discourse of words; his discourse was, and still is, an agitation against society’s preoccupation with the body as the dictionary for human meaning.

The Punjabi Sufis have often been misconstrued to only be a part of the mystical strand of Islam. They are apart from this part: they are freethinkers. Bulley Shah went beyond the body: he went to the soul, an independent region. If the project of sociology is to change the world, this loci should surface as a region for our study. Bulley Shah’s sociology, as I have come to understand it, can be thought of as such: as human beings we are each different and we are each the same because we are each different, our difference is our sameness and our sameness is our difference. He punctures the orientalist schism.

Living in the Indo-Pak region of Kasur, a region pulsating with ethno-political schisms, Bulley Shah, himself a descendant of the Prophet Mohammad, was ostracized for ridiculing institutionalized religion and denouncing all forms of social categorizations. Through the power of the pen, he mocked specialist knowledge, “ Dasseyn hor, tey hor kamaaweyn. Andar khot, baahar sachyaar” (You preach something and act inversely. Inwardly, you are corrupt, but, outwardly, you are pious – a liar hidden in the garb of truth)”.

As a social activist, Bulley Shah’s context afforded him little reprieve: he was banished from his locale and proceeded to live with a community of dancing females. History narrates that Bulley Shah returned to his locale, 12 years later, having adopted the identity of a female dancer – he was a preened dancer and wooed his audience. In this connection, Bulley washed away his static social identity and it was in this effort that Bulley Shah took to his pen to collapse different bodies into sameness.

Through poetry and dance, Bulley Shah, who professed heterosexuality, connected male and female characters into a narrative that could only be played by a transgendered individual, also known as Hijras. His work remains a central script in many 21^st century theatricals in Pakistan. And today, Pakistan’s Hijra community visits his shrine, along with other Sufi shrines, as one of their only spaces of spiritual comfort. In fact, female musicians, like Abida Parveen, have realized the penetrative powers of their voices and have established themselves in male-only domains. In the honour of Bulley Shah, Parveen sings the line, quoted at the beginning of this essay.

The power of Bulley Shah is thus in his ability to become an ally and experience the field; as training sociologists, we need to be introduced to this field at the very onset. Bulley Shah does not sit within specialist tools either – his sociology is an interdisciplinary practice, a “process” and not a project. And, more importantly, his work never stationed the self strictly within the corporeal, material guise: he rid himself of this guise by revealing its porous fabric.

These histories of social emancipation should not be detached from human sexual histories. There is a lot to learn and our academe needs to reflect on these victories; I celebrate these victories because we need to incorporate such achievements into future discussions. Otherwise, how different are we from “The Gender Grammarians”?

I know not who I am

I am neither a believer going to the mosque
Nor given to non-believing ways
Neither clean, nor unclean
Neither Moses not Pharoah
I know not who I am

I am neither among sinners nor among saints
Neither happy, nor unhappy
I belong neither to water not to earth
I am neither fire, not air
I know not who I am

Neither do I know the secret of religion
Nor am I born of Adam and Eve
I have given myself no name
I belong neither to those who squat and pray
Nor to those who have gone astray
I know not who I am

I was in the beginning, I’d be there in the end
I know not any one other than the One
Who could be wiser than Bulleh Shah
Whose Master is ever there to tend?
I know not who I am.

You read to become all knowledgeable

You read so many books
to know it all,
yet fail to ever read your
heart at all.

You rush to holy shrines to play a part,
Would you dare enter the shrine of your heart

You are quick to attack the evil one,
yet pride is a battle you have not won.


You grab for a star you can control,
yet fail to grasp the light in your soul.

Let the race end, my friend

Stop trying to be the one who knows,
for ‘God is One’ you need to know.

End the race, my friend

God is All we need! God is All!

Follow the wandering dervish!

If you deny the power of all that’s true,
God will not grant strength to you.

We are lost in this river of self,
no boat or streams are of any help.

End the race, my friend

Stop trying to know it all, my friend.

God is All we need! God is All!

There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering!

There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering
There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering

Whom to tell my shrieks Oh! Hermit
There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering

If he slipped sans rumpus
There would be uproar in the whole universe

There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering

Muslims are wary of fire and Hindus fear grave
Leaving apart all bickering and brawl
Escaped somebody else that was brave

There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering

Somewhere Ram and at other Mullah
It is the furor old and ancient

There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering

Prayer calls were made at Heavenly throne
These were listened at the exalted Lahore
Shah Inayat has fastened strings
And slyly pulls my wings

There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering

The one who believed has known
Others have collapsed and thrown
All scuffle and tussle came to halt
When Bulleh appeared on  the scene

There is a Cheat in the folds of my covering

Author: Ali Abbas