IN THE recent rise of secular authoritarian government and the rise of religious orthodoxy in response to the so-called development-focused regime, let us take a step back and reread Lalon Fakir (d. 1890) to find what he professed and practiced in a similar situation. Lalon’s reformulation of the concept of spiritual practice was informed by the socio-cultural and politico-religious responses to the colonial conflicts in Bengal; at the same time, his philosophical formulation of the human as a spiritual subject remains equidistant from the popular responses towards the authoritative colonial and religious forces active in society throughout 19th-century Bengal. On one hand, he distances himself from the (e)state by securing an exemption on tax, which ties an individual’s body to the state, on a religious-like ground, and on the other hand, he distances himself from the authoritative religions, which tie an individual’s mind to the Spirit (i.e., God/gods), on a humanist-like ground. In other words, he separates himself from both the church and the state with his version of the ‘dehātmabād’, which can be translated as physico-spiritualism. Such distance allows him to contemplate the development of thought in Indian philosophy in the wake of the modern understanding of the world, and that in turn enables him to redefine the terms and tropes that describe the cosmos of Indian philosophy, for instance, ‘ātmā’, ‘paramātmā’, ‘punarjanma’, ‘karma’ and ‘maner mānush,’ or ‘sahaj manush,’ and thus ‘mokhsa/mukti.’ If one explores how Lalon redefines those aforementioned constituents of the cosmology of Indian thoughts and reformulates the concepts of ‘maner mānush’ (the man of heart) or ‘sahaj manush’ (the innate man) that he inherited from the baul-fakir traditions of physico-spiritualism, they will see how the autonomous spiritual identity of a person as styled by Lalon poses a threat to the authoritarian dominance of religions and states.
Physico-spiritualism is the confluence of several traditions, including Sufi Islam, Vaishnava Sahajia, and Buddist Sahajia. In physico-spiritualism, the general idea of the emancipation of the self is that it happens when a man unites with the “sahaj mānush” (the innate man) or “maner mānush” (the man of heart). This resonates with the idea of the Indian religio-philosophical thought that emancipation, or the moksha/nirvāna of ‘ātmā’ or the soul, is achieved when the soul takes up an epistemological journey to reach their origin-cum-destination, ‘paramātmā’ or the Absolute Soul. But there is a key difference between these two ideas of emancipation. For ‘ātmā’, which resides in the body, to meet the paramātmā that resides outside of the body, the bearer of the soul, the man must physically die. That is, death is the gateway: the soul leaves the body at death and then unites the absolute soul. On the other hand, in dehātmabād, a man meets the innate man while the man is living. In physico-spiritualism, there is no out-of-body existence of a soul or the absolute soul. However, physico-spiritualists do use the trope of death as the gateway for man to go through and meet his innate man, but that death is a symbolic death, death while living, known in some traditions as ‘jyante marā.’ To enter the state of ‘jyante marā’, one must engage in ‘fanā’ or annihilation.
So, the question remains: annihilation of what? And what is the process of that annihilation? We will come back to these questions, but let us investigate how the difference between physical death and symbolic death as the gateway to being one with the absolute soul and the innate man or the man of heart, respectively, completely changes the understanding of ātmā and paramātmā in Lalon. This difference, as mentioned earlier, dates physico-spiritualism beyond the major religions, which involve the idea of the celestial God, and equates them with the idea of paramātmā. Some of the major religions accept the traditions that proclaim that the soul meets the absolute soul after the death of the bearer of the soul, the man. But most of the major religions have a hard time accepting the traditions that proclaim that there is no out-of-body soul or the absolute soul; the union of the soul and the absolute soul means a man finds their innate man and dissolves into the latter in the lifetime of the man. To those religions, such proclamation means the denial of the existence of the celestial God and the declaration of man to be God. For instance, we know the story of the Persian mystic poet, a Sufi master, Mansour Hallaj (c. 858–922), who proclaimed “Ana al-Haqq,” I am the Real, or I am the Truth, and incurred the wrath of a group of orthodox Islamists. The reason behind the wrath is that Al-Haqq is a Quranic synonym for Allah himself. So, the proclamation “Ana al-Haqq” is tantamount to “I am Allah,” which is the greatest sin, “shirk” or idolatry, in Islam.
Lalon captures Mansour by saying:
“I am the Huqq, who
People call Allah.” [Lalon Samagro 2014, 546, henceforth LS]
It is important to note that Qazi, the Islamic judge, released Mansour Hallaj from the charge of doing “shirk” or idolatry on the ground that it was beyond his (the judge) jurisdiction to condemn the spiritually inspired utterances. One can reasonably argue that the Qazi’s verdict was also informed by the fact that the proclamation “Ana al-Haqq” cannot be construed as “I am Allah” beyond doubt. It is also relevant to note that Mansour Hallaj was later tried in a different case, where he was charged with the act of rebellion against the government. He was given the death sentence for allegedly siding with the rebel group that wanted to destroy the Kāba as part of their endeavour to oust the government. This rebel group, namely the Qarmatians, according to some scholars, wanted to establish a religious socialist state. Mansour Hallaj was implicated in this case because of his idea regarding the Kaaba: one should proceed seven times around the Kāba of their heart instead. It is crucial to understand the fact that the Kāba is the source of far-reaching political legitimacy for the government among the religious community. Both the rebels and the government were clear about the political attack on the Kāba. So, the government was quick to act. Scholars agree that the death sentence for Hallaj was part of quelling the political rebellion.
We need to see the conceptual ‘silsila’ or the lineage between Mansour Hallaj and Lalon Fakir. Lalon, who identifies himself as a fakir, considers the Persian mystic poet Mansour Hallaj (c. 858–922) a fakir.
In Lalon’s words:
“Mansur Hallaj is a fakir
Who said I am the Real.” [LS 2014, 129]
According to Lalon, to assume “fakiri,” the practice of a fakir is to engage in the process of fanā or annihilation, and the goal of fanā is to be one with the Huq or the Real (LS 2014, pp. 481). Now we come back to the question: what does the process of fanā involve? And fanā, or the annihilation of what? In Sufi literature, we find that the fanā is the annihilation of what builds up on the “nafs”, the self, for instance, egotism, desire, and passion. Abrahamic religious texts claim that God created man’s self in his image. This self is a spiritual entity residing in the human body. The human body, which includes the human brain, is the producer of egotism, desire, and passion. Ascetics discipline their body/brain and the mind that emerges from the brain, intending to annihilate the buildups. The goal of such annihilation of those buildups is to return to the original human self that God created in God’s image. As I mentioned earlier, the self of man is perceived as a spiritual entity; a return to the original self would equate to being a spiritual person. Since the person is assuming the image of God, he is becoming a godly person, not any particular God. So, the question of “shirk” doesn’t arise for those who believe that there is a God who created men. And it also fits in perfectly with those who believe there is no God external to the human body/brain. For them, the human brain/mind created the image of God, the God of goodness and harmony, which is free from any egotism, desire, or passion, and one must assume the image of God through the annihilation of those negative attributes of the self. For them, the self is the awareness of the self or self-awareness, and to assume the image of the God of goodness and harmony is to be in the state of self-awareness as the agent of goodness and harmony. This resonates with the journey of a Sufi, where they, through fanā, enter such a state, called baqā.
In the tradition of Lalon Fakir’s fakiri, being one with the innate man or the man of heart is akin to assuming the original self, the image of God; that allows many to interpret the innate man as God. Such interpretation spurred some religious authorities to issue “fatwa” or rulings legitimising the destruction of baul-fakirs of Bengal because they regarded the realisation of the state of union with the innate man, or the man of heart,” as the proclamation of being Allah. However, Lalon didn’t have to face the same fate as Monsur Hallaj did, maybe because back then Bengal had people in power who thought like the Qazi who released Hallaj from the charge of shirk or idolatry for proclaiming “Ana Al-Huq,” and also because Lalon did not pose enough of a threat to the state, except for allegedly fighting off the tax enforcement foot soldiers of the estate. Nonetheless, his idea of the spiritual stands as a threat to any authoritarian superstructure, be it religious orthodoxy or an authoritarian state, that tries to control the body and mind of an individual. The nature of such a threat is not so much to bring religion and state down as to foil their endeavour to control the self of the individual, which they persistently try to do because they thrive on it.
Now let’s see the process of annihilation in the tradition of Lalon Fakiri. The process of fanā in Lalon’s fakiri starts with a couple of resolutions: take alms for living and abstain from procreation throughout life. Lalonist fakirs dress up in white attire akin to a shroud and a special undergarment called dor-koupin to indicate their symbolic death, which suggests, according to the fakiri practitioners and the experts, a detachment from the desire for having children and private property. So, the symbolic death in Lalon redefines the idea of “punarjanma,” or rebirth, in his songs. Rebirth, or “punarjanma,” happens to a man who fails to perform “fanā.” That is, a man’s karma or action stops them from performing “fanā” and thus, in turn, stops them from achieving “Moksha” or the life of the Spirit, the Godhood.
According to Lalon, there are two types of rebirths: He defines the first type of rebirth as begetting children. In his words,
“Son gets birth from father’s seed.
That is the father’s rebirth.
-
Mother takes birth from daughter’s womb.” (LS 2014, 271)
The second type of rebirth is a deviation from the spiritual life or the road to achieving the life of the Spirit, the Real. In his words:
“Do not usurp other’s properties and partner,
You cannot reach the destination
Every time you usurp,
You will be reborn.” (LS 2014, 653)
That means the instant you cheat, you die as a non-cheater and take birth as a cheater; the instant you usurp, you die as a non-usurper and take birth as a usurper. All this happens in your lifetime.
At this point, we found that under the metaphors of atma-to-fana-to-paramatma lies the journey of an individual who adopts a disciplined path to reach the state of the self that is governed by the self. In many spiritual traditions, including Lalon’s, such autonomy is achieved by abstaining from any attachment that subjugates an individual to body-external bodies, like family, society, religion, the state, and the like. One should keep in mind that such autonomy is not what is popularly known as individualism as opposed to collectivism. It is rather a form of collectivism, where autonomous selves create a collective to gain more autonomy from the authority of the state and religion(s). This is regarded as the spiritual purpose of the self among many practitioners. Here we bring a pertinent quote, or rather, question, from Lalon. Lalon’s question, “O mind, you came to humankind and did what?” begs the question: what does Lalon have in mind as a duty of humans? In other words, what are human life’s moral aspirations and obligations, according to Lalon? According to Lalon, serving one’s self and others are not two different endeavours.
In this regard, Lalon has his answer for us. He says:
“If you serve humans, you will be the Man of gold.
Without humans, O madcap, you will lose the root.” (LS 2014, 574).
Now, when men individually or collectively step up to serve humankind, they find themselves in competition with the state and religions, which are also in the same enterprise, and the latter bodies have very strict codes on how to serve humanity. Lalon forbids his followers from taking the tenets of any authoritarian texts or codes at face value or without ‘nehaj’ or the right method. He advised that the appropriate method, or nehaj, is crucial to finding what is right or wrong. He also says that a mind without the appropriate method is equally blind, like the Vedas and other Sastras (LS 2014, 184). Furthermore, he says, “The confusion of mind will push you around, and you will go round and round without getting what you are searching for” (LS 2014, 702). Putting on an appropriate ‘nehaj’ or method can be understood as the use of critical thinking all the time about everything that is coming your way.
The critical mind of Lalon is not tantamount to anarchism. Rather, he is also a proponent of devising a code of life for his community. His code has two components: universal principles and cultural parameters. Lalon emphasises the universal principles of his code and leaves the variables to the fakirs of different times and places. For instance, Lalon stresses speaking the truth, being on the right path, and doing the right actions in his songs. These are the universals in his code. Fakirs will inherit the principles and fill in the variables by making laws according to their contemporary problems. In Lalon’s code, there is a provision for that: he says that the solutions to some problems can be different based on the nature of the problems concerning time and place. According to Lalon, you can only make the right code or constitution if you have the right knowledge. Acquiring the right knowledge is equally important to understanding what the solutions to a temporal and spatial problem could be. Lalon stresses the importance of acquiring actual knowledge, so much so that he equates acquiring knowledge with doing prayer, or upasana.
He says, “Lalon says those who are thinkers will get the verses by lighting the lamp of knowledge.” (LS 2014, 521)
Like other tropes and terms we discussed earlier, ‘upasana’ or ‘bhajana’ in Lalon is also very different from how it is used in a religion. In religions, upasana/bhajana is directed to the Spirit, the God, for the salvation of the personal soul. But in physico-spiritualism, the upasana/bhajana is ‘sadhana’ or the practice, the activity, the activism that practitioners or activists embrace to be on the path to their emancipation; it is to gather the right knowledge to constitute the right code of life for their community and abide by the code till death. Here, the salvation of the individual is dependent on serving-slash-salvaging the ‘manush’, the community. When Lalon says, ‘manush bhajo,’ he neither means ‘ekti manush,’ a man, nor ‘manush-Ti’, the man. He means the men, the mankind, because in his idea,’manush’’ or’man’ means that men are connected with each other, as he says, ‘manushe manush gatha.’ Thus, ‘maner manush’ or the innate man is the symbol of humanity, humankind, where the ego or the buildups on the participating selves are destroyed and the selves unite as one, an autonomous one, an autonomous community.
Ahmed Shamim is an assistant professor in the Department of Asian Studies at the University of Texas at Austin, USA.
