Punjab, particularly Lahore, holds a rich historical legacy of hosting various festivals to celebrate revered Sufi figures. However, in recent decades, such festivals have become fewer in number.

One festival that has survived the test of time — and the state — is Mela Chiraghan. Officially inaugurated this year by the caretaker Minister for Religious Affairs, Barrister Azfar Ali Nasir, Mela Chiraghan, or the ‘Festival of Lights’, was held at the Shrine of Two Saints next to the Shalimar Gardens in Baghbanpura.

Mela Chiraghan used to be the biggest festival of Lahore and arguably even Punjab, attracting people of all religions to camp at Shalimar Gardens. The Mughals and even the British frequented the event. It was Maharaja Ranjit Singh who combined the Urs of Madho Lal Hussain and the Mela Chiraghan into one event, such was his reverence for Shah Hussain. Later, he would himself lead a procession for it, barefoot from the Lahore Fort.

Like every year, this year Mela Chiraghan occasioned the coming together of people travelling from different parts of the country to celebrate the friendship of the venerated Punjabi saint Shah Hussain and his Hindu companion Madho Lal, from the 12th to 14th March.

Mela Chiraghan is one of the oldest festivals in the Punjab, which celebrates not just the coming of spring but also the storied relationship of Sufi saint Shah Hussain and his Hindu companion Madho Lal

The legend surrounding their friendship suggests that their hearts were inflamed with such passion for each other that their names were welded together as one. The two lived together till Shah Hussain passed away. When the much younger Madho died many years later, he was buried right next to Shah Hussain’s grave, in what is known as the shrine of Madho Lal Hussain. It is here that Mela Chiraghan is celebrated every year.

Navigating the Festival

Thousands of devotees made their way to the Orange Line station and walked through the streets towards the shrine. Groups of youth danced to the accompanying beats of the dhol, while others thronged the few food shops for qatlammas [sweet, layered bread] and sweets.

In previous years, these side streets were packed to the brim with shops and food stalls, but the unceasing march of real estate qabza [takeover] groups has halted that longstanding tradition.

Inside the walls of the shrine complex, there was hardly any place to wriggle through as revellers flocked to the two main attractions: the massive bonfire outside and the two graves inside the shrine.

People lit oil lamps and candles, placing them all around the flames, chanting “Naara-i-Haideri, Ya Ali” sporadically. Men of all ages danced in ecstasy to the beats of the dhol and to the tunes of the shehnai. Inside, both men and women gathered around the two graves to pay

their respects to the revered Sufi saint and his beloved companion. The mood was festive and joyous. The crowds brimmed with a buoyant energy, yet never veered towards rowdiness.

Most of those present at the festival wore bright colours, yellow and red being the most common. This is a tradition that has carried over from the past, a symbol of the coming of spring.

On one end of the complex, a fair was being held with all kinds of swings and roundabouts as well as a maut ka kuuan [well of death], where a daring motorcyclist enthralled the crowd with his stunts. On its opposite side, people formed small groups around multiple bonfires, smoking hashish together as they listened intently to the rhythm of the dhol. Some of the audience would, from time to time, get up and dance.

Further back, the langar [communal meal] was being prepared, to be distributed among everyone present. Rice, daal and haleem were on the menu. A large speaker and dance floor were set up nearby, where a few danced and the crowd cheered vociferously. The smell of hashish was omnipresent as one wandered farther away from the structure that housed the graves.

Lost Glory

Although the festival has lost some of its sheen in the past few decades, in many ways, it still feels as if one is being transported back a couple centuries.

Research professor Dr Tarunjit Singh Butalia at Ohio State University, who is of Sikh descent and holds an American passport, was visiting the mela for the second consecutive year this year. He had read about it in history books and, on his first visit, was surprised to discover it was being held at the shrine and not in the gardens.

“I hope one day the festival would return to Shalabagh, as the gardens used to be called, so that the multi-religious and multi-cultural plurality of ‘Uchae Burj Lahore Dae’ [the grandeur of Lahore] could be reclaimed,” he laments. He was invited to dance by some of the malangs [devotees] and proceeded to dance around the graves with them, extricating himself before he got lost in a trance.

Hashish, music and dancing are constant tropes in the melas that take place in Sufi shrines across the country — and the Mela Chiraghan is no different. This, coupled with innuendos surrounding the nature of Madho Lal and Hussain’s relationship, is believed to have led to a relative decline in state patronage of the festival. This decline has accelerated as the project of Islamicised Pakistan has developed in recent decades.

It was in 1958 that Ayub Khan banned the Urs from the Shalimar Gardens, after which it was moved to the shrine. The gardens would host foreign dignitaries but, in what is emblematic of the state’s shunning of indigenous language and culture, the festival of the Punjabi masses would have to find a new home after hundreds of years. Additionally, Shah Hussain’s deviation from the path of orthodoxy raised many eyebrows when he was alive, and myths surrounding his lifestyle choices continue to prevail today.

Unlike the other notable saints of the city, Shah Hussain was born in Lahore, to a low-caste ‘weaver’ family which had recently converted to Islam. He quickly gained prominence but, around the age of 36, he abruptly abandoned the path of the traditionally pious religious man.

Like Shams Tabrizi, he was a follower of the Malamati school of Sufism, where piety was meant to be a private matter and fame was believed to lead to worldly attachment. He rejected lofty titles and referred to himself as a faqir. He instead wanted to highlight his faults and would thus drink and dance in public. While this led to some mistrust and confusion among some of the upper echelons of the Mughal court that subscribed to religious orthodoxy, his popularity with the masses increased.

A major reason was his use of kafis, a form of poetry with short verses often sung to music. Shah Hussain’s kafis were mostly four to ten lines only. This was a deliberate choice that he made, in order to appeal to the Punjabi masses. It also served to reject royal patronage, in line with his Malamati beliefs, by foregoing the use of the court language of Persian. He used the universal themes of love, yearning and despair, which were an essential part of Punjabi folklore, and even wrote verses on the timeless folk tale Heer Ranjha.

Shah Hussain’s work is ever-present in Punjabi folk music and qawwalis and his kafis are sung to this day by some of the biggest Punjabi musicians. Devotees at the mela recited them around the bonfires and knew many of them by heart.

“I have visited the Mela every year since before I can remember”, says Nadeem, who hails from Lahore, before proceeding to recite many of Shah Hussain’s kafis. “I come because Madho Lal is a revered saint and it is amazing to be a part of a larger community that comes together to celebrate the festival.”

Muhammad Sohail, a labourer from Rachna Town located on the outskirts of Lahore, had fought tooth and nail to take a couple days off for the mela. He was accompanied by some friends and his spiritual guide. He too has been coming here ever since he was a child. He used to live in Baghbanpura and would visit the shrine for a whole month during the festivities but, since his move to Rachna Town, he can only make a single, hard-earned outing.

Mela Chiraghan has been a constant fixture in Lahore’s calendar. It welcomes the coming of spring and celebrates the life and death of a Lahori saint who resides in the hearts of the masses through his timeless poetry. Despite many setbacks over the decades, it continues to be a cultural landmark. Hopefully it can return to its original and rightful home in the Shalimar Gardens in the coming future.

Azeem Khan is a historian of South Asia and can be reached at azeemkhan1489@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 16th, 2023