The journey to Kasur in central Punjab reveals the shrine of Bulleh Shah (d. 1757) mid-renovation, caught in upheaval. Though the work is ongoing, the new architectural vision — a relentless remodelling — feels strangely restrictive.

The burial site is being encased within a massive, rectangular iron platform, a towering skeletal frame that currently encases the grave. What was once a simple structure is being replaced by something strangely overpowering.

Punjabi scholar Iqbal Qaiser describes this newness as the “shackling” of Bulleh Shah. His words carry the memory of the older structure: its two circular arches and a longer, corridor-like passage that mirrored the shape of a charkha [spinning wheel].

The arches symbolised reciprocity and balance; their curves embodied a grace that has now been stripped away. That characteristic silhouette once provided an entryway to the poet’s pastoral world.

The ongoing ‘renovation’ of the shrine in Kasur of Sufi poet Bulleh Shah is mired in a shocking lack of vision — choosing pomp and grandeur for a man of the masses, enforcing gender restrictions for a poet who often wrote in the feminine voice and forcing his grave to share space with a man history remembers very differently from him…

The ongoing ‘renovation’ of the shrine in Kasur of Sufi poet Bulleh Shah is mired in a shocking lack of vision — choosing pomp and grandeur for a man of the masses, enforcing gender restrictions for a poet who often wrote in the feminine voice and forcing his grave to share space with a man history remembers very differently from him…

Those who have heard Bulleh Shah understand how the poet and the charkha are inextricably intertwined; his many poems in the kafi form repeat the rhythmic hum of the spindle, channelling the voice of a woman at the wheel in a tradition that stretches back to 16th century Sufi poet Shah Hussain.

This is the burial place where, in 1758, the mullahs refused the poet his right to a communal graveyard. As a saint-singer whose lyrics delivered scathing truths, Bulleh Shah was the enfant terrible of his time. Occupying a space outside religious identities — Hindu nahin, na Musalman [I am neither Hindu nor Muslim] — the poet posed a provocative challenge to the religious authorities.

The belief that Divinity transcends physical structures, mosques and temples, is a realisation many find hard to accept. Such defiance of tradition explains why he was deemed unworthy of proper burial ground and burial rites.

Poet Taufiq Rafat, in his foreword to Bulleh Shah’s translations, notes a sharp irony: the privileged now pay handsomely to be buried near a man they once condemned as beyond salvation.

The irony of the site deepens on the nearby marbled floors, where the grave of Nawab Mohammad Ahmad Khan Kasuri (1903–1974) lies. While his tombstone marks him as a “shaheed” [martyr], history remembers him differently.

Kasuri was assassinated in a car ambush, allegedly ordered by former prime minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. He was also the magistrate who signed and witnessed the hanging of the revolutionary hero Bhagat Singh. While Bhagat Singh became a symbol of defiance against the British, supported by figures such as Quaid-i-Azam Muhammad Ali Jinnah and Jawaharlal Nehru, Kasuri was granted the title of “Nawab” for his service.

The story of Nawab Kasuri is one of the most consequential turning points in Pakistan’s political and legal history, particularly since it provided the ‘legal’ basis for the execution of Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. Following Bhutto’s hanging during Gen Ziaul Haq’s reign, Kasuri and his wife were granted this burial space.

Those who connect these stories are stunned by the paradox: a maverick saint, once denied funeral rites by the religious orthodoxy, now rests alongside a man whose legacy is defined by compromise and service to both the British Raj and a military dictator, one remembered by many as a traitor to his own people.

SUBVERTING WHAT HE STOOD FOR

A white placard with red, worn-out script announces: “Women are not allowed to enter the inner chamber, the burial place.” The sign could not be more incongruous, knowing that in Bulleh Shah’s poetry, the female voice is abundantly present.

At times, the poet takes on the persona of the legendary Punjabi folk heroine Heer; at others, that of an anonymous girl weary of gathering flowers in a field, or of a female lover, virahini, awaiting a tryst with her beloved.

The tomb of the poet who subverts essentialised binaries and performs as the feminine seeker is now guarded by the very boundaries he dismantled. Why is it that such limitations are imposed at the shrine of a man who wrote in the persona of a woman and rejected the classifications of class, ethnicity and religion?

One finds oneself wondering whether the conventional pronoun even fits — whether a more fluid understanding of identity better serves the figure he represents. While many may not have read his verse, the musical renditions of his poetry have struck a chord through generations. His lyrics speak to those who have loved and suffered social or class-based discrimination, using the poetic trope of the feminine.

AN OSCILLATING LEGACY

Bulleh Shah, born Abdullah, possesses a magnetic personality whose biography has been pulled in opposing directions — cast alternately as traditional saint and radical rebel. His legacy oscillates between myth and critique.

US scholar Robin Rinehart cautions readers against misinterpreting the poet’s works through the lens of exaggerated biography, using the term ‘The Portable Bullhe Shah’ (sic). Yet, within the poems, a miraculous space opens, where Bulleh Shah can be experienced directly, and the verses reveal a strikingly unconventional voice.

Permeated within his poems is a visceral, raw expression of love. Though meant for the ears, not the eyes, while reading Bulleh Shah’s poems, one can’t escape experiencing moments of fierce anarchic emotion.

Indian scholar Denis Matringe has explored the poetic and devotional genealogies from which Bulleh Shah draws — a fusion of Krishnaite Bhakti with Sufi thought. The popular ethos of his work weaves together an astonishing range of mystical traditions: Nath, Ismaili, Persian, Krishnaite and Sufi, mingled with the voice of the oppressed.

Poems like Main kusumba chun chun haari [I am weary of picking the safflower] resonate with the lived experiences of a common labourer. Lesser-known poems evoke pagan imagery, as seen in Ik tona achamba gawan gi/ Main rootha yaar manawan gi [I shall sing a wondrous spell to win back my lost beloved]. In these verses, the girl summons the moon, the night and magic, transforming the pain of separation into a vibrant world of the imagination.

In its most critical instances, this vernacular poetry condemns scriptural knowledge and religious orthodoxy: Dhar masaal dharai wasdai/ Thakur dawaray thug/ Vich maseet ko seetay rahaindai/ Ashiq rahan alag [In the temple, the idols are installed/ In the monastery, the swindlers stay/ Inside the mosque, the cold-hearted sit in silence/ But the lovers, they remain apart from it all].

ARCHITECTURE OF BETRAYAL

Punjab’s Auqaf and Religious Affairs Department suffers from a shocking lack of historical and cultural perspective. Squandering vast sums on extravagant, hollow architecture is fundamentally anti-people and a violation of the very spirit Bulleh Shah represents.

As a poet of the masses, Bulleh Shah’s legacy is betrayed by this new aesthetic, which displays the worst of conventional morality and an empty idealisation of pomp and grandeur.

What, exactly, is the agenda behind this renovation? Within his own poems, Bulleh Shah emerges as anything but a doctrinaire or majestic icon. Instead, he remains the subversive voice of the marginalised, such as Main choohrian sachay sahab de darbaron [I am but a humble sweeper in the courtyard of my Beloved].

As we travelled back from Kasur, Iqbal Qaisar expressed his hope that the glass cases housing Bulleh Shah’s sitar, godari [quilt] and topi [cap] would eventually be restored to their rightful place within the renovated shrine.

One must wonder whether Abdullah himself — the man behind the myth — ever wished to be remembered as a populist icon, let alone a deified one.

The writer is a PhD scholar working on Punjabi poets.

She can be contacted at ayesharamzan83@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, April 5th, 2026

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