The
saloks of Sheikh Farid
Ji guide the seeker towards life’s true purpose, the devotion to the one absolute Divine, IkOankar. In these saloks, he reminds us that our time in this world is finite; therefore, one must turn to IkOankar without delay. Yet, attachment to transient possessions and relationships causes many to forget this truth, becoming entangled in vices that lead to restlessness and inner turmoil. In contrast, those who cultivate virtues such as love, humility, patience, contentment, selfless service, and righteousness experience the bliss of connection with IkOankar even while living a householder’s life. Their life becomes serene and suffused with inner joy.
pharīdā darvesī gākhaṛī copaṛī parīti.
ikani kinai cālīai darvesāvī rīti.118.
-Guru Granth Sahib 1384
Commentary
Literal Translation
Interpretive Transcreation
Poetical Dimension
Calligraphy
In the one hundred and eighteenth stanza, Sheikh Farid addresses himself and says, O Farid! The way of life of a dervish is difficult; your love is superficial. A rare one has followed the way of life of dervishes. What is a dervish? A dervish is a member of a Sufi order who seeks connection with the Divine, IkOankar (One Creative and Pervasive Force, 1Force, the One), through asceticism and discipline and austerity. In this self-reflection, Sheikh Farid says the lifestyle of a dervish is difficult. Dervishes have a particular garb that signals to others that kind of spiritual status. But being a dervish—being a true devotee of IkOankar—is not about how we look or present ourselves. It is about how we think and act, how we speak and engage with ourselves and others and the world around us. This is what makes the lifestyle of a dervish difficult. When we are caught up in presenting ourselves a particular way, or we are concerned with showing others what our relationship with the Divine is, we lean into a shallow kind of love. We become superficial, fixated only on what other people think our religiosity or spirituality or piety is, rather than devoting that same time and effort and attention to cultivating that relationship—not for an audience, but for ourselves.
The one who follows the way of life of a dervish is truly rare. It is not easy to become so devoted. It takes great effort, great discipline, and great love. Those true dervishes are so carefree, so patient, and so vast, they are not interested in public displays of their devotion for the Divine. If we think a bit about Sheikh Farid’s life as a Sheikh, reaping the social and spiritual and political benefits of this title, we might imagine that he witnessed many claiming to be dervishes, and that he found very few to be walking the walk. Sheikh Farid is asking us to reflect on whether we are being genuine in how we present ourselves. If our love is superficial, will we make it genuine? Will we become the same within and without? Will we shed our pretense?
