Entering In-most Cave

The Discovery of Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai: A Personal Journey

What began as curiosity led to a soul-stirring journey through Shah Latif’s poetry—exploring its evolving texts, and lasting impact.

Almost a month ago, Rafik Buriro created a WhatsApp group comprising learned individuals dedicated to appreciating and analyzing the poetry of Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai. To my surprise, I was included in this elite group despite knowing little beyond his name—something every Sindhi does. My actual knowledge of Shah was negligible.

Soon, the group evolved into an intellectual forum where renowned scholars passionately discussed Shah’s poetry. This was my first true encounter with his work, and a realization dawned upon me: to avoid being labeled as jahil (ignorant), I had to engage with at least a few verses. What I assumed would be a straightforward exploration of a poet, akin to reading Rumi, Milton, Shakespeare, Dante, or Homer, turned into something entirely unexpected.

It felt as though I had crossed the threshold into the in-most cave, stepping beyond mere reading into a space where meaning unraveled and reformed before me. I was no longer just engaging with poetry—I was confronting the depths of my own understanding. The first moment of disorientation struck when I encountered the structure of Risalo. The Surs (chapters) did not follow a single, definitive order; instead, they shifted across different versions, each carefully compiled and translated by esteemed scholars such as Mirza Kalichbeg Fredunbeg, Allama I. I. Kazi, Nabi Bakhsh Khan Baloch, Elsa Kazi, Ameena Khamesani, Shaikh Ayaz, and Agha Saleem. Each arrangement seemed to suggest a different path through Bhittai’s words, leaving me momentarily trapped in uncertainty. Yet, it was within this confusion that I began to sense the true essence of the journey—one that required surrendering to the fluidity of meaning rather than grasping for fixed answers.

The deeper I delved, the more inconsistencies emerged. The order and names of the Surs and Baits (verses) varied from one version to another, pulling me further into uncertainty. Determined to find the original text, I traced my way to Ganj, the first handwritten manuscript compiled by Fakeer Abdul Azeem, also known as Waddal Shah, in 1793. As I pored over its pages, written in an improvised Sindhi script of 42 letters following the Arabic writing system, I realized I had stepped into the in-most cave of my soul—one with no clear way out. The script lacked modern Sindhi sounds and letters, making it an arduous read, yet it held the essence of Bhittai’s unaltered voice. Ganj did not merely present itself as a historical artifact; it became a force that stripped away my assumptions, forcing me to combat my ignorance. There was no escape but through understanding.

Present Day Sindhi	Sindhi in Ganj
ڏُکِي ڏِکَ وِسارِ، سيڄَ ڦِٽِي ڪَرِ سَسُئِي، پَٽِيين پيرُ نِھارِ، تَہ آرِياڻِي اُتان لَھين.	ڎُکِيْ ڎِکَہ وِسَارِ سٖيْڃَ ڤِٽِےْ ڪَرِ سَسُئِےْ﮶ پَٽِي﮼ پٖيْرُ نِھَارِ تَہ آَرِيَانِيْ اُتَالَه﮼﮶

Original text of Bait 18 in Ganj

I stood at the threshold of something vast, knowing that Ganj had already pulled me in, leaving no way out but forward. It was in this state of awe and uncertainty that I turned to the story of Shah himself, seeking the origins of his fears and the wisdom hidden in his verse.

Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai passed away in 1752 A.D., leaving behind a rich poetic legacy. However, before his death, he harbored a deep concern that his poetry might be misinterpreted or taken at face value, without understanding the spiritual depth it carried. His apprehension was rooted in the following verse:

جي تو بيت ڀانئيا، سي آيتون آهين،

نيو من لائين، پريان سندي پار ڏي.

Fearing misrepresentation, Shah Latif took an extraordinary step—he threw all written records of his verses to be submerged in the waters of Kirar Lake. This act caused great distress among his disciples, who deeply valued his poetry. Determined to preserve his wisdom, they approached him with assurances that they would uphold the sanctity of his teachings. They pledged to remind readers of his warning and to interpret his poetry with spiritual insight. Moved by their sincerity, Shah Latif granted them permission to reconstruct his verses with the help of his devoted servant, Mai Naimat, who had memorized most of his compositions. He personally supervised the transcription of the verses, verifying their accuracy. Thus, this collection of verified poetry came to be known as Ganj, meaning The Treasure.

Among Shah Latif’s closest disciples was Timar Fakir, who was entrusted with the custodianship of Ganj. Over time, additional verses from other poets—both from Sindh and beyond—were incorporated into Ganj. Some of these had been recited in Shah Latif’s presence, while others were introduced by Atal and Chanchal, two renowned musicians from Delhi who had spent considerable time with him. Unfortunately, no serious efforts were made to maintain the purity of Ganj, leading to the inclusion of numerous extraneous verses, making it difficult to separate Shah Latif’s original poetry from later additions.

Around 1854 A.D., or possibly earlier, Syed Azim Shah of Oderolal produced a copy of Ganj, which was kept at Shah Latif’s mausoleum. This manuscript, though now worn out, remains under the strict guardianship of Timar Fakir’s descendants at Bhit Shah. Additional copies were later made, with notable ones being the Bhit edition of Risalo and the Bulri edition, the latter preserved by the descendants of Shah Abdul Karim, Latif’s great-grandfather.

Tragically, the original Ganj disappeared from Sindh. It is widely believed that foreign minstrels who visited Shah Latif’s shrine systematically removed its pages and took them to Kutch Bhuj in India. As a result, the oldest surviving version of Ganj is the one at Bhit Shah, now safeguarded by the descendants of Timar Fakir. Despite containing numerous interpolated verses from other poets, it remains an invaluable reference for scholars seeking to understand the original compositions of Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai.

Understanding Shah’s poetry requires understanding the historical journey of Risalo through various editions and compilations. Here are some of the significant milestones:

1866: Dr. Ernest Trumpp published Risalo in Leipzig, Germany, in Sindhi script.

Ernest Trumpp

1867: A Bombay edition of Risalo was published, transcribed by Haji Muhammad Kiranani Samo. This edition became so popular that it sold out within the first days of its publication.

1900: Tarachand Shokeeram released a revised edition, incorporating missing verses.

1913: Mirza Kalichbeg produced a meticulously corrected edition.

1923: Hotchand Molchand Gurbuxani published a refined version, widely regarded as one of the best compilations.

1938: Dr. H.T. Sorley (1892–1963) wrote Shah Abdul Latif of Bhit in English, introducing Shah’s work to the world. He was a distinguished officer of the Indian Civil Service (ICS) and a scholar renowned for his extensive research on Sindhi literature, particularly the works of the eminent Sufi poet Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai. His seminal work, Shah Abdul Latif of Bhit: His Poetry, Life and Times, published in 1940, offers a comprehensive study of Shah Latif’s poetry, life, and the socio-economic conditions of 18th-century Sindh.

However, it is important to note that Sorley’s work does not present the complete Risalo, nor does it offer a literal translation of Shah Latif’s poetry. As Muhammad Yakoob Agha critiques, Dr. Sorley’s book deals with excerpts and not with the entire Risalo. Besides, his translation too is not literal. It is not faithful to the text.

In my personal opinion, I appreciate the work of Sorley on Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai. His research and translation, though not exhaustive or literal, have significantly contributed to bringing Shah’s poetry to a wider audience. His ability to interpret and convey the deep spiritual essence of Shah Latif’s poetry in a different language is commendable. If I had the opportunity, I would love to translate Risalo in a similar style, if not exactly like Sorley’s, while ensuring fidelity to the original text and its spiritual meanings.

Shah Abdul Latif of Bhit.

Download • 12.27MB

Download the book by Dr. H.T. Sorley

1950: Ghulam Muhammad Shahwani’s edition provided explanations of difficult words.

1951: Muhammad Usman Diplai’s edition was distinctive for its minimal use of diacritical marks.

1958: Kalyan Bulchand Advani published an edition that gained immense popularity across Sindh and India.

1961: Allama I. I. Kazi’s edition, published by the Sindhi Adabi Board, omitted Sur Kedaro from the sequence.

1966: A Devanagari script edition was published in India by Advani.

1969: A British Museum manuscript-inspired 28-chapter edition was compiled by Dr. Nabi Bakhsh Khan Baloch.

1974: Dr. Baloch refined his research by comparing early manuscripts.

1977: He further revised an edition based on ten early manuscripts.

1985: Muhammad Yaqoob Agha’s English translation, Ganj Latif, was published.

1989: Dr. Baloch released an 11-volume scholarly edition covering meaning, context, and historical analysis.

1994: Ameena Khamesani produced a significant English translation.

2009: Dr. Baloch’s final Risalo, a culmination of 40 years of research, was published by the Sindhi Culture Department.

Exploring Shah’s poetry is not merely an academic exercise—it is an intellectual and spiritual journey. His work does not conform to traditional poetic structures; rather, it blends mysticism, folklore, and historical narratives in a deeply symbolic manner. With every version of Risalo, I uncover new layers of meaning, making this journey ever more profound.

What began as an attempt to avoid intellectual embarrassment has transformed into an odyssey of self-discovery and a deep appreciation for one of Sindh’s greatest poets. And yet, this is only the beginning—there is still so much more to explore, so many hidden pathways yet to be walked.