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 kāle maiḍe kapṛe kālā maiḍā vesu.
gunahī bhariā mai phirā loku kahai darvesu.61.
-Guru Granth Sahib 1381
Commentary
Literal Translation
Interpretive Transcreation
Poetical Dimension
Calligraphy
In the sixty-first stanza, Sheikh Farid says, black are my clothes, black is my appearance. Filled with sins, I wander, but the world calls me a dervish. Sufis are known for their simple attire, often opting for rougher wool over softer cotton. Classically, they wear black wool as a symbol of their longing for the beloved One, IkOankar (One Creative and Pervasive Force, 1Force, the One). The black denotes a kind of burning up in Divine love. Sheikh Farid’s reflection here is on external pretense, and on the social, political, and religious currency his garb affords him.
Just by the fact of wearing this particular distinct garb, Sufis are given honor, repute, and authority much like other holy people who wear particular ‘uniforms’—priests, bishops, Imams, nuns, rabbis, pandits, gianis, etc. Whether that honor, repute, and authority are truly earned is the question Sheikh Farid reflects on. Though he appears one way, he says he is full of transgressions and flaws. He wanders, is unsteady, and shares he acts from a place of vice rather than virtue. Still, the world calls him a dervish, a devotee of the Divine. He admits to his own pretending and reflects on the tendency we all have to judge piety based merely on appearance. He urges us to reflect on our internal states as well. What is the version of ourselves that we present to the public? What is the version of ourselves that is true? Will we bring the internal and the external into harmony? Will we make an effort to become devotees in thought, word, and action, rather than in just garb?
