In Search of the Sacred in Modern India

In the arid deserts of Sindh, where the sands meet the fertile banks of the Indus, a mystical dance unfolds every evening, a dance that is more than mere movement — it is a bridge between worlds, a celebration of divine love that transcends man-made divisions. Here, in the shrine of Lal Shahbaz Qalander, Hindu and Muslim devotees gather as one, united by the rhythms of the dhammal dance, the pounding of massive copper kettle drums, and the intoxicating scent of rose petals and incense. The air vibrates with chants like 'Dum Dum Mustt Qalander!' as dervishes clad in red and black robes sway and leap, their bodies becoming vessels of ecstasy and spiritual healing. Women, some possessed by djinns, sit in trance, their hair whipping wildly as they surrender to the sacred rhythm.

This dance is not just ritual; it is a profound act of communal healing. Physical ailments that resist medical treatment are believed to dissolve here, replaced by peace and hope. The shrine's syncretic nature is remarkable — a Hindu sajjada nasheen opens the annual ’Urs festival, and Hindu pilgrims tend the lamps and offer water alongside Muslim devotees. The saint himself is known by multiple names, revered as Jhule Lal by Hindus, a water god linked to the Indus River, and as a Sufi pir by Muslims.

Amidst this vibrant tapestry stands Lal Peri Mastani, the Ecstatic Red Fairy — a woman whose bright red robes and imposing wooden club make her unmistakable. She is a living symbol of refuge and resilience, a triple refugee who found sanctuary in the shrine’s embrace. Her story is one of loss and survival, of finding unconditional love not in the world but in the divine presence she feels with Lal Shahbaz. She lives a life outside convention, protected by faith and community, embodying the shrine’s spirit of acceptance and love.

Yet, this oasis of spiritual freedom faces threats. The rise of puritanical Wahhabi and Deobandi movements seeks to dismantle these heterodox practices, condemning shrine worship and music as heresy. Madrasas spread their influence, preaching a return to strict textual Islam and rejecting the syncretic traditions that have flourished here for centuries. But the Sufi community remains steadfast, their faith in love and forgiveness a balm against intolerance.

At the heart of this struggle lies a deeper conflict — between an Islam that embraces the mystical and the personal, and one that demands rigid adherence to law and ritual. The Sufis teach that Paradise lies within the human heart, a place of eternal love and union with the divine, while their critics insist on a physical heaven beyond this world. This tension is not new but echoes through centuries of Islamic history, finding a vivid expression today in the deserts of Sindh.

As the sun sets and the dhammal begins anew, one can witness the power of music, dance, and devotion to heal not only bodies but souls, to bring together communities divided by history and politics. This is a story of spiritual resilience, of a sacred dance that defies the harsh winds of change, inviting all who come to find the divine within themselves.

Let us now journey from the desert shrines of Sindh to the lush floodplains of Bengal, where another mystical tradition sings the song of the heart in a language of love and freedom.