XIII.
 
 Of Ranjha's puzzlement :-
As Hir left for the Khera's place.
for Ranjha it seemed to have ended there. 
And silent grew the Syals's house, too:
the Kheras of course were festive and gay. 
Nobody seemed ever to notice Ranjha
who like a cashiered faujdar* moped, 
And tears started flowing again
from his eyes if ever they had stopped. 
At Takht Hazara he was discussed
and the sisters-in-law resumed their plea. 
They wrote to him, berating Hir.
like shouting at the deaf from near.

(*faujdar=an officer of a lower rank)
 Of the sisters-in-law's letter :-
'Whatever was written in Fate has happened,
but you have touched us on the raw. 
'Even now, O Dhido, nothing is lost,
come back with all your youthful swagger. 
'Where is she you wandered for in the wood
in the midst of wolf and leopard and tiger? 
'The flower so jealously guarded by you
has now been by the Kheras plucked. 
'Men are big fools indeed to trust
fair maidens and be jilted and mocked. 
'In vain you toiled for her, not knowing
that she was not ordained for you. 
We shall offer gold-plate at the tomb of the saint,
the day you enter again our court. 
'This is the vow we have taken, Waris,
may Khizr himself be your escort.'
 Of Ranjha's reply :-
'O Sisters-in-law, when winter comes,
in hope of spring lives on the bee.
'The nightingale watches over the bough
that has dried, for it may bear blossoms again. 
'So soon or late I'll go to her
who knows the pain at my heart alone. 
'Who ever returned, once having left,
and do you expect just that of me ?

‘Mauju Chaudhari's son is a grazier now;
is it not indeed a miracle? 
'But the brave have always fought for love,
and hosts have thus gone under the earth, 
'Only he will run away from love
who is an imbecile from birth. 
'The likes of me, by harsh words stung
will go back at no summons or call.

'Time and life past will never return,
nor luck and chance if not availed. 
'Word from the lips, arrow from the bow,
soul from the body, once having gone, 
'Shall never return : to recognise
this is the highest wisdom of man 
'But if you can call them back, dear ladies,
I'll come back, too, now that you've called

'Ah, now you want to steal my love
as then at home you stole my land. 
'But I am now resolved in my mind
to join the ear-cleft Jogis' creed. 
'I come back home only with Hir
or in the attempt I shall be dead. 
'Ah, Waris, who cares to call me home?
Brothers and their wives alike pretend.'
 Of other things in Ranjha's letter :-
He got it written and sent by hand:
'Accept you, first thing, my salam. 
'The will of God prevails, not man's,
we have to live as He ordains.
'When the world has thrown one in the gloom. 
of rising up there is no chance. 
'It is beyond me, ladies, now,
I'm stranded on love's stormy shore.' 
The sisters-in-law can find no answer
but that they'll wait for evermore, 
'And patiently depend on God
to bring him home in His own time.'
 Of the counsels of the Kheras:-
The Kheras take counsel with themselves.
Now Hir must never go back to Syal. 
'Lest the cowherd should grab her again
and heap obloquy on our head. 
'This faithless woman is perverse too
once there she is lost to us for good. 
'She must not meet her lover again,
it is final, irrevocable.'

XIV.
 Of a peasant woman taking Hir's message to Ranjha :-
A Rangpur girl going back to Syal,
her father-in-law's, visits Hir to say: 
'Your parents will like to hear from you,
tell me what I shall say to them. 
'How goes it between your husband and you,
wives tell each other these things without shame? 
'How do your in-laws treat you, too,
kind, harsh, or indifferent are they? 
'Between us two,' Hir says, 'it is
like as between silk and the moth. 
'The less said about the likes of him,
my husband, the better for my faith.'
 Of Hir's message for Ranjha :-
'With folded hands and chewing grass,*
I send to him my word of love. 
'Having given me into the hands of foes,
my friends try now to forget my name. 
'And parents having cast me midstream,
what have I now to do with them? 
'Tell him to be kind to a destitute
like me who seems beyond reprieve.

'Dark clouds have lowered upon me, in
his absence I am roasted alive. 
'A numbing pain has pierced my heart,
fed up with life I'd rather be dead. 
'This separation consumes me so,
I feel exhausted, battered, bled. 
'As cotton is beaten under the flail,
so am I being flailed by his love. 

'Houses of the unwary are broken by night,
in broad day-light have I been robbed. 
'Unless he comes somehow to help,
a bolt from the blue may fall on me. 
'For the wilderness I'll leave this house
where I have not lived anyway. 
'The blows of fate have battered my soul,
the heart within me has been stabbed.'

(*A sign of cow-like humility.)
 Of the Rangpur woman enquiring about Ranjha :-
As the peasant wife arrived at Syal,
she started to ask where Ranjha was; 
The gallant youth from Takht Hazara,
who tended herds of the village chief. 
Could he be found in the village hall
or in the mosque? Where did he live?
But those uprooted Waris, by love 
can have nowhere a dwelling-place.
 Of the Syal girls reply to these enquiries:-
Said the girls, 'He is a handsome youth 
with a growth beginning on the cheeks. 
'Known as a lover all over the land,
withdrawn from all the world's dispute. 
'The day Hir was delivered to the Kheras,
he threw away his magic flute. 
'He roams and shouts like mad in the wood,
the haunt of tiger, leopard and wolf. 
'None dare address him, for who will
provoke the cobra even by half?' 
But one suggests they should go to him
and try on him the charm of their sex.
 Of the girls approaching Ranjha:-
The girls thus make an approach to Ranjha
who sat bowed down with leaden grief. 
'O come and get a message of love,
you have been summoned by the Syal girl, Hir. 
'She says for your sake, she has been
driven out of father's and husband's grace. 
'She will not live without you long.
how can your heart be so at peace? 
'At once assume a fakir's disguise
and reach her, pitch your tent out there.'
Ah, Waris, love is such a bondage
one gladly will contract for life.
 Of Ranjha sending a reply to Hir:-
Ranjha goes then to the mullah and begs
him to write this to his love: 
'Were I to speak all of my sorrow
both heaven and earth will go up in smoke.
'The while I roll on burning coals,
you share a husband's bed and joy. 
'What charms you used to put me in thrall!
woman can indeed pluck the stars from the sky! 
'From a herdsman now I turn a fakir;
that is how you deal with a helpless bloke! 
'None other than God can help me now
retrieve my fortune, Waris, to believe.

'So eager were you to marry him,
it is good at last you are married now. 
'Like luck you have forsaken me,
are happy in your husband's home. 
'A glamorous wife of the Khera, indeed,
and worthy niece of Kaido the lame. 
'One should either give this life for love
or wind it up, this faithless show. 
'Having brought you up with so much care,
your parents gave you to Saida for luck, 
'I make complaint and challenge you
to speak as lover to lover should speak.' 
 Of the poet's remarks:-
As the carrier took this letter to Hir
at Rangpur, she was drowned in gloom. 
Ah, such is providence that the koel
of Lanka is driven to Delhi's heat. 
Even so the cowherd's mynah, Hir,
is caught by Saida, the Devil's cat. 
Waris, death and chance can never be evaded;
who can turn back the hour of doom? 
 Of Hir's bitter thoughts:-
'You enjoyed my sweet when I was maid,
come now to taste my bitter as wife. 
'Ah, stroke my locks, black cobra-like.
and put your neck between their coils.
'I use the chewing bark, my eyes 
are wild, too, like a wounded bull's 
'Come in the guise of a yogi, and try 
to change if you can the fate of a waif?'
 And of her letter in reply:-
To the carrier Hir hands over her letter
to take it to Ranjha without delay, 
Who should get it read in private by
a mullah, and ponder over its text. 
'With folded hands I pray for you
while tears flow ceaseless from my eyes. 
'I am indeed on the verge of death,
whom only your coming now can save. 
'The Khera durst not approach my bed,
come, lover, to lower me into the grave. 
'Come, come to say prayers for my soul,
bring to this tossing corpse some peace. 
'By sorrows of love I am dried to straw,
come, lover, put a spark betwixt 
'I cry and wail, if you love me at all,
hear me and make the best of your way.
'Take this my ring and bracelet, too,
I hand them to this man for signs. 
'And fasten this upon your wrist,
a string ! have made of my jet-black hair. 
'Now pick up courage, gird up your loins--
Hir too is not a coward here; 
'You should go to a perfect fakir who may have
the power to change God's ordinance.'
 The messanger bringing Hir's letter to Ranjha:-
The carrier brings the letter to Ranjha,
telling him, Hir is near to death. 
'You have worked some witchcraft on her mind, 
and cheated her with some secret charm.
‘Awake whole night, she counts the stars,
and tosses like a boat in a storm. 
'She has not a moment's sleep, you have broken
her heart, your love knows little ruth.

'But she lives by your name alone
you may or may not appreciate. 
'She has not a wink of sleep in bed,
the people around keep urging and pressing. 
'She will not love the Khera at all
for all his coaxing and caressing. 
'She does not let him sleep with her,
indeed she is much too obdurate. 
'And often she happens to utter your name,
and then there are quarrels and wry faces. 
'Come as a yogi, live somewhere near
and then enjoy her warm embraces.'
 Of the poet's observations on Ranjha's deflation:-
This was the letter and thus its purport
in which Hir had described her grief. 
Having had it read, Ranjha was deflated
and fell to sighing long and cold. 
He said, 'Write also of my vain desire
to pluck the stars from heaven's fold.' 
The paper of the heart was signed in tears
though the heart's despair had little relief.
 Of Ranjha's reply to Hir:-
The tumult in his heart beyond
control, Ranjha sent back in reply: 
'First, take beloved, my salaams,
before, I'm drowned in mid-stream. 
'I offered you my life itself,
but you severed all bonds without a qualm, 
'I am a fakir ever since the day
my love was snatched away from me.
'You have joined yourself to the Khera now,
depriving me of caste and creed. 
'You may be all smiles at your husband, but
tears in my eyes have never stopped. 
'In vain has gone all my pursuit.
the raiders have with their booty escaped. 
'Having squeezed out of me the juice of youth
you have taken now the trousseau of a bride.'

'You are one of those who by their charms,
would make strings into snakes, and catch 
'Stars in their baskets, having reduced
their lovers to beggars, and engage 
'Elsewhere in wedlock's pleasures while
the jilted lovers squirt out theit bowels; 
'Turn scions of noble blood into serfs
and find nobility somewhere else. 
'How can mere peasants cope with them
who proved too clever for a Raja Bhoj?
'But for the grace of God and his saints
none can put an end to my disgrace, 
'Who from a Chaudhari's son became
a herdsman of another house, 
'For a maid who would deceive in love
and eagerly ride the bridal coach.'

XV.
 Of Ranjha's devising plans of going to Hir:-
'Prize of my life I have lost,' says Ranjha
'and to recover it now must I 
'Renounce all caste and creed, assume
a beggar's robe of ochre hue. 
'Yes, there the grace of God is served
in platters, as it were, and now
'For me remains only to turn
a mendicant and I must try

'As well this last device; this soft
and supple frame on butter fed, 
‘May for a little now roll in dust.
An ear-cleft yogi I must find 
'For my preceptor, learn from him
some useful magic. I have warmed 
‘Myself enough on othres' pyres
and now must light my own indeed. 
'For long years have I lived with the Syals,
now must I go to another shrine. 
'This bosom scorched with severance
needs now to be quenched in love's embrace. 
'To cross the river that separates
I'll make a craft of reeds and grass. 
'Now a prospect looms of getting back
with luck the treasure lost and gone.' 
Love has no place for ego or pride,
abasement is attainment here. 
If only one can lose the self
one comes out, Waris, a conqueror.
 Of Ranjha preparing to become a fakir:-
Thus fanned, the smouldering fire of love
leaps into flame, and taking the oath 
Of turning into an ear-cleft yogi,
Ranjha makes his way to the hermit's cave. 
His hair long nourished on butter and cream,
is timed now for a close, clean shave. 
Driving out all thought of birth and creed,
he goes to sell himself to the Nath,*
To serve a master who should teach
the art of tripping a woman on the sly. 
Ah, Waris, these lovers are not afraid
to lose their lives for love, and why?

(*The title of an order of yogins.)
 Of Ranjha's invitation to others:-
He bawls it out from village to village;
'Come who will be a fakir with me. 
'To beg one's eats, not bother to graze
a buffaloe nor to milk a cow; 
'No work, no art, no craft, and yet
to be a king without ado; 
'To bore the ears, rub ash on the body,
and be preceptor for the world; 
'Neither to hail the birth of a son,
nor to bewail death, lie all curled 
'In sleep in a mosque without a care,
a borrower nor a lender be; 
'To insolently ask for alms,
and yet to be in no-one's debt; 
'To rise from sleep at one's sweet will
and sleep as long as sleep will let.'
 Of Ranjha's pleading with the Nath:-
At the hermitage with folded hands
begs Ranjha to be initiate. 
'I come across wild wood and marsh,
for a glimpse of your divinity. 
'Inspired by faith and truth I come,
admit me to your order, pray. 
'God is the King of all the worlds,
fakirs His ministers of state. 
'Without you we cannot find the path,
without milk no pudding can be made.
'You meditate on God alone,
and from the world aloof you rest. 
'And yet you are its true support
more than the prince or even the priest. 
‘No father or mother or brother have I,
no kinsman, and no friend or mate. 
'I am lost in the mazes of this world,
pray cut the shackles off my feet. 
'Where else to go when you seem to me
so patently a man of God?
 Of the Nath's reply:-
Tender of face and supple of humour,
so handsome and intelligent; 
So thinks the Nath, his parents seem
to have indulged him to excess. 
And he says, 'Tell me the truth, my lad,
what grief brings you to a place like this? 
'What grievous trouble has made you run
from home with such a grim intent?'
 Of Ranjha's philosophic reply:-
'This world is a place of death, O Nath,
this life is but a wall of sand. 
'Man's term is brief as the shadow of a cloud
and Azrael tears it bit by bit. 
'Today or tomorrow the show must finish,
how long can one play the king in it? 
'For all he may drink of the water of life,
man is reduced to dust in the end.'
 Of the Nath's reply:-
'Bracelets and armlets adorn your wrists,
and rings of gold hang from your ears.
'All cut and trimmed in circles and rings
your hair is bathed in attar scents. 
'In shawl and lungi your body is wrapped
with kohl-touched eyes that seem to dance. 
'Enjoying at the cost of their parents why
should the likes of you become fakirs?'
 Of Ranjha's philosophy again:-
'The things and objects of this world
are as but shadows in a dream. 
'One should not dote upon its pomp
and show, the senses lead the soul 
'To surfeit, while divine content
will save us all the bellyache. 
‘Hope and despair and pain and pleasure,
a homespon rug or a silken shawl 
Are all alike to one whose soul
is thrilled by fear of God to quake. 
'One must discard delights of the flesh
to be worthy of the preceptor's name.'
 Of the Yogi's doubts again :-
'You enjoy good things like milk and curds,
and pamper and embellish yourself. 
'Hard is indeed the path of penance,
to boast here is to earn disgrace. 
'From playing the flute and staring at women,
and milking and caressing cows 
'Why do you turn? What has occurred
you are giving up pleasures not by half?'
 Of Ranjha's rejoinder:-
'This world is a place of infamy,
discarding it, I'll be a fakir. 
'Deceit, iniquity, lechery, theft
and exploitation here abound.
'Only those who curb the body's desires
achieve the state of calm nirvana. 
'Delight my heart by taking me
into your order, be so kind. 
'Grant me salvation, too, as you
have done before to hosts of men. 
'This world is full of evil, Waris,
may God protect one's honour here.'
 Of the Nath's pronouncement:-
'The way of yoga is Mahadeva's way,
it is a difficult enterprise. 
'Most bitter and pungent is its taste
like that of pounded leaves of neem.* 
'One has to be as dust unto dust,
here power and pride do not become. 
'In meditations blank and void
of light, a drizzle only pours.'

(*An evergreen tree with leaves, bark 
and berries that taste bilde but are 
good blood-purifiers.)
 Of Ranjha's prayer to the Nath:-
'Pray tell me of the way of yoga;
the longing in my heart is writ 
'As on a diamond. The fold of yoga
conceals all vice and lowly sin. 
'It cools the fire of greed in the mind,
with waters of renunciation. 
'Constant is the faith of a saint alone,
all others with pelf and power may shake. 
'I am a servant at your door,
a slave in bondage. I shall take 
'My bread for alms from the village folk
and save me the trouble of earning it.'
 Of the Nath's warning reply:-
'Infinite' is the word to trumpet
and hard the penances indeed. 
'The yogis, ascetics of all kinds.
the white-clad or the shaven-pate 
Have to do; to fall into a trance
and hold the breath at the soul's tenth gate;* 
'To set at naught all pleasure over birth
or grief over death, live in the void. 
'It is easy to wear the robe of yoga,
but not so easy to practise it. 
'To wash and scent the body? No,
besmear it all with ash and soot.

'To live in the wood a celibate life,
cast not at woman a covetous look, 
'May she be ever so beautiful,
a hourie of heaven, or fairy. 
'Hemp, poppy and lotus, herbs and roots
are to be taken for esctasy. 
'To regard the world as a web of dreams,
and live in it like a blessed bloke. 
'To breathe all passion, anger, greed
and pride into pipe, shell and horn; 
'To travel for a dip to Jagan Nath,
Godavari, Ganga, shrine to shrine, 
'To attend the fair of the Siddhas** in the west,
to have a glimpse of the great Naths nine. 
'Yoga is the way of the desperate,
it is not for you, the peasant-born.'

(*According to the yogins this body has a 
tenth metaphysical orifice of opening, 
apart from the nine physical orifices.

**The Siddhas are yogins who have
attained realisation or miracle-working 
powers. Nine is the conventional 
number of the great saints of the yogins 
of Siddha creed.)
 Of Ranjha's final entreaty:-
'If you mean to grant me yoga at all,
now do it, make no more delay. 
'Why, will you break the heart of one
who comes with much hope to your door? 
'If staunch in faith, one seeks for grace,
will you throw him back into despair? 
'I have no-one to own me now,
do not deny me grace, I pray.'
 Of the Nath's reply:-
'With bridle of prayer and lash of content
a good man tames the mind. Indeed, 
'It is given to the best of men to be
fakirs, to give up pelf and power. 
'To fall in love is to run upon a sword,
a coward can never be a lover. 
'Only those can practise yoga who are
not in the least afraid to die. 
'Needed is courage to play with life,
no antics, crude or clever, will do. 
'Without love and charity and faith,
no use it is to beg for bread. 
'To practise yoga is to challenge death;
it has to be written in one's fate. 
'With firm faith must the Guru be served,
for that is what, first of all, yoga tells. 
'By dint of faith and truth did Dhanna,16
the peasant, realise God in stone. 
'Washing off impurities from the heart
the Guru attunes it to the Divine. 
'In the tabernacle in which, my child,
you find yourself, God also dwells. 
'One sees God everywhere when one
has cast out of one's mind all doubt.
'As the thread runs through the rosary beads
so  does the Lord all things ingather
'In all living things He is life, in hemp 
or opium the intoxicant. 
'As blood or breath runs in the body
so is He this world's true content. 
'His light is mingled in all things
as colour in the henna leaf.' 
Ranjha supplicates so earnestly,
and the yogi tries to put him off. 
Ah. Waris, he who falls in love
becomes unfit for this world and the other.

(16. Dhanna: A peasant saint of the 
medieval period, who worshipped 
God in the form of a stone so 
fervently that the stone sprang up 
into life to perform certain errands 
for the saint.)
 Of the poet's observation:-
As the Nath is moved to sympathy.
his old disciples burn with wrath. 
They lash at him with whetted tongues
like daggers sharpened on the stone. 
'You are going to grant yoga to this boy
who has a face fair as the moon. 
'You never were so kind to us
who have worked for you long and hard. 
'But those alone are fond of boys
whose wits are ruined by the Lord. 
'Nay, those who are bewitched by beauty
can never recognise the truth.'
 Of Ranjha's resentment:-
'The slanderer is a sinner to count
among the seven, with the thief, 
'The liar and the scandal-monger,
the gossip, the lecher and the ingrate. 
'I am not going to wear the robe
of yoga for long, be considerate. 
'Bereft of hope here I expect
fulfilment in another life.'
 Of the disciples' anger:-
The disciples all together fall
upon the Nath and beat him numb. 
They rob and ruin the hermitage,
then everyone takes his separate path, 
Leaving their stoles and caps and bowls,
and quilts and blankets to the Nath, 
Ah, Waris, if the Lord stint not,
man has all four sides open to him.
 Of Ranjha's reply:-
These unwise people are envious all
of me, may not be so my God! 
'Take pity on me, O Nath, mend things
and save my love from ruin and rack. 
'Wealth, beauty, might do not endure,
one may not lord it over the weak. 
'Rather those who worsen matters for
the poor, ought to be checked and chid. 
'The vessel laden with human freight
may not be allowed to strike the sands. 
'Those whom we ourselves raise to the heights
may not be dashed next to the ground. 
'Brook no delay in doing good,
spin not the story round and round. 
'An orphan like Waris may be kindly treated
who supplicates with folded hands.'
 Of the Nath's reply:-
Moved at the youth's resolve to renounce
the world and at his winsome stance, 
The Nath was angry at his erring
disciples and rebuked them hard. 
The wise can separate milk from water
by soaking in it the pith of reed. 
He bade them stop their chatter and hand
their ear-rings back to him at once.
Back-biting, ill-will, envy, malice
from time immemorial have been rife.
But the moth and the lover will dare being burnt 
the stake, they fear not for their life.
 Of the disciples' submission to the Nath's command:-
Cowed down the Guru's disciples gather 
the mud of earth and heaven to knead. 
Invoke the three hundred and sixty* shrines.
the nine Naths and the fifty-two pirs** 
To the ten incarnates, celebates six.
and sixty-four yognis offer prayers; 
Then they prepare the baptismal water,
on which their Guru's charms they read.

(*Again a conventional number in 
Hindu religious lore.

**According to Muslim myths.) 

Whatever resentment, ill-will, malice
there was in their breasts they now shed off. 
Finding defiance did not avail.
they make an effort to forget: 
Whatever the Guru commands accept,
throw in their hands, admit defeat; 
They hold their breath, and to all reproaches
heaped on them, are dumb and deaf. 

Whatever they had spoiled in anger,
from fear of the Guru they seek to repair. 
They strip poor Ranjha of all his clothes
and trinkets and smear him with ash. 
Ear-rings of wood, for four days dried
in the sun and the razor whetted fresh 
They bring to the Guru, who now prepares
to shave off Ranjha's jet-black hair.*

(*A part of the initiation rite)
 Of Balnath initiating Ranjha into yoga:-
Balnath calls Dhido into his presence
for the initiation rite; 
Who clean-shaved and with ash-rubbed face
disclaims all rights of birth and blood; 
The boring of ears and shaving of head
has cleaned his mind of all its clutter. 
With a father's kindness to the son
whom he has nourished on milk and butter. 
Balnath breathes into his ear his word
and confides to him the secret of God, 
And then he shaves his eyebrows too,
puts rings on his ears, rubs ash on his limbs. 
Like wild fire spreads the news all round,
a yogin of rare appearance comes. 
As the goldsmith does with gold, the Nath
has broken and reshaped the Jat.
 Of the Nath's advice to Ranjha:-
Having given him the usual pious advice,
Balnath tells Ranjha the ways of yoga, 
How to wash and bathe, rub ash on the body,
and wear the ochro-tinted robe. 
'Meditate on the Name, first thing in the morning,
carry the horn, the staff and the bowl. 
'Shouting the Word Infinite, go
to the villages to dispel all ill; 
'Rain blessings all around and fill
the house from which you beg with hope. 
'And having collected alms, return
to hold with God your dialogue.'
 And of his further advice about women:-
'Regard a woman as mother if old,
and sister if not past her youth.
'Be she a virgin or a wife.
the demon of lust you must restrain.
'And save the clean white sheet of yoga
which I give you, from spot or stain. 
'Waris, in the end faith brings reward
and we should solely rest in truth.'
 Of Ranjha's plaintive reply:-
Says Ranjha, 'Please, draw in the rein
of tyranny, do not oppress me so. 
'Ill suits me this advice of yours
make me not swallow this bitter pill. 
'If that is the way of yoga, transform
me into a sexless imbecile. 
'Say all you have to say at once,
this reiteration tires me sore. 
'If such indeed was your intent,
a youth like me you had better spare. 
'O give some really good advice
to a devotee like Waris Shah.'
 Of the Nath's rejoinder:-
Says Balnath, 'You have taken on you
a heavy load by joining my fold. 
'Go shout the Infinite Word and gather
loaves and crumbs as alms with faith. 
'In yoga the ego has to be killed
as we kill the snake that bars our path. 
'With the mace of faith beat out the dross 
that Satan has mingled with your gold.

'A woman is like the sugar-cane
exposed alike to pest and thief. 
'We must not foul ourselves with sin
feed properly this body's beast. 
'Be humble, celibate and austere, 
and both in mind and body chaste.
'Chop off this troublesome lump of flesh.
O Waris, with a keen-edged knife.'
 Of Ranjha's defiant retort :-
'Had I been pure and chaste, O Nath,
should I have brought this on my head? 
'Could I refrain from love, need I
have left my home and brothers and peers. 
'If I could truly subdue the self,
need I have ventured on this course? 
'Should I have grazed the herds of the Syals
if I could live as a hermit in the wood? 
'I would not let you shave my head
and pierce my ears, had I abstained.
'And had I known of your imposts,
I would not take your rings to burn. 
'I would not come to foul this mount
had I known from women you would warn. 
'Make whole my ears again or I
invoke the justice of the land.'
 Of the Nath's advice again:-
'Eat the bread of honest toil and speak
the truth, give up pretexts and feints. 
'If you repent sincerely, I
forgive you all your sins and errors. 
'Give up the ways of a vagabond
which have reduced you so to rags. 
'Let go the bag of sugar you nibble,
the owners have come to claim it now. 
'The buffaloe-calves that broke the yoke
are put by ploughmen to the plough. 
'The earthern pots that had gone stale,
are washed and rinsed, made fit for use. 
'You have committed theft in the open
and have not had to pay the cost.
'Play foul with the world no more, give up
all wickedness, come down to dust. 
'Your meekness much appealed to me.
the reason I put rings on your ears. 
'But, Waris, habits do not change.
even if we are cut to pieces and joints.'
 Of Ranjha's disclaimer:-
To be dead alive is difficult,
such penance I can't do a bit. 
'A peasant, I can put a rope
to the plough, glass-beads I cannot string. 
'I rue the moment my ears were pierced;
such ordeals will I suffer no more. 
'I cannot carry the bowl or the horn,
at last I shall go back to the plough. 
'Gurus who advise abstention from women
are not to be bound and milked like a cow. 
'I cannot be deaf to a woman's voice,
I cannot wash myself so pure. 
'All fun and frolic you forbid,
am I to collect only cakes of dung? 
'Ah, Waris, who knows on judgement-day
we'll have to taste the bitter or the sweet?'
 Of Balnath's admonitions:-
'Give up these secret loves. O churl,
the ascetic's is an arduous course. 
'To practise yoga is to swallow steel,
it leads one into great extremes. 
'But the teachings of yoga will tame a man
as the nose-string the camel tames. 
'For you the gourd, the conch, the beads
and prongs and chains and a coat of hair. 
'Lust not for woman, be a true yogi,
What have the fakir and the world to share?'
Waris, for a Jat to be a fakir,
is like an ass should pose as a horse.
 Of Ranjha's resigned acceptance :-
'I made indeed a bid for yoga,
the day I fell in love with Hir. 
'When leaving my home and people and clan,
I turned a prideless buffaloe-herd. 
'Then she was a lass with tresses trimmed,
and I a lad with a shade of beard. 
'Enjoying to the full the passion of youth
the best of my life I lived with her.

'And she was then, too, under the sway
of the great intoxicant of love. 
'Then luck left us, the secret was out,
and she was given to another rogue. 
'In distress now I am obliged
to give me up to the rigours of yoga. 
'Inevitable is the hour of love
it makes one carry the beggar's bowl 
'Like the prophet Job. For love of Joseph,
did Jacob not like a woman wail?' 
Just so with the tresses of the beloved
one Wais Shah is held a slave.
 Of Balnath's prayer to God:-
His eyes shut fast, now Balnath prays
to God, and supplicates His aid. 
'Unstinting is Thy court, O Lord,
where man is not ashamed to beg. 
'The sky Thy limitless expanse,
Thou art the Lord of heaven and earth. 
'This roguish Jat has turned to Thee
giving up all pride of name and birth.
'He seeks not aid of kith and kin.
with faith in Thee he craves for yoga. 
'The shafts of the eyes of a woman have pierced 
his heart, and drained it of its blood.

'Having shaved his head and beard and bored
his ears, the cup of hemp he has drained 
'Like the moth-fly's wing his wit is burnt
and reason is smoked out of his brain. 
'Out of the nest of a home he comes
to far-off lands, flying like the crane. 
'Thou art Lord-guardian of the poor,
grant prayer, too, of this mendicant.

'Say, Lord, what is Thy will, this Ranjha,
the new-shorn yogi begs Hir of thee.' 
Recommending him for a tiger-skin,
the saints, all five, too, join his prayer. 
The word of heaven descended then:
'We grant him Hir, he may not despair.' 
Waris, those who are thus blessed of the Lord,
need fear, indeed, no earthly foe.
 Of the Nath bidding Ranjha be of good cheer:-
The Nath then opened his eyes and said,
'Go now, the Lord has granted your prayer. 
'The seed you had cast to the wind of heaven,
flowers and bears fruit on earthly soil. 
'Hir shall be yours without a doubt,
the ruby is now strung with the pearl. 
'Good omens these, go now, my child,
and beat the Kheras, your mortal foes.' 
Cheered at this. Ranjha girds up his loins, 
with folded hands he stands and prays,
And Waris, with the blessings of the Nath,
he leaves the mount, filled with good cheer.
XVI.

 Of Ranjha's departure from the mount:-
Thus reassured, the herdsman hastes,
as the eagle for the sparrow spars, 
While the old disciples burn with envy
at the easy success of a novitiate. And Dhido chides superiorly
to warn them from all evil thought. 
'Friends, by good luck is yoga achieved,
the luckless may aspire in vain. 
'Like a gambler I had thrown the dice,
only heavens' grace has made me win. 
'Even roasted grain will germinate
when fortune comes to smile on us. 
'When the grace of God comes to their aid,
the craftless even get across. 
'Ah, Waris, when the Lord is pleased,
He sets in motion all our good stars.'
 Of the people's curiosity about the youthful yogin:-
In the hamlets he set all to wonder
who could this youthful yogi be! 
'Too tender his ears for rings of wood,
his limbs too fair to bare like this.' 
But Ranjha says, 'I am a yogi,
from seven generations, never once 
'Put hand to the plough; grandson I am
of Dhanvantri,* the healer of pains. 
'Whoever bears a grudge to me
will leave this world all issueless. 
'But then whoever wins my pleasure,
will prosper here and multiply.'

(*A famous physician of Hindu myth.)
 Of Ranjha making for Rangpur of the Kheras:-
Across field and hamlet, he makes for the Khera. 
as a tiger on his usual beat. 
face to the Kaaba, * he utters the name
of God, his feet show him the way. 
Intoxicated he walks and rocks,
like a beautiful woman on camel-back. 
The bowl, the staff, the mortar and pestle
and hemp and poppy in his sack, 
Slowly he creeps towards the Khera
as a cunning beast walks to his prey. 
And he enters at last the bounds of the village
With God alone for his retreat.

(*The holy of holies at the Mecca.)
 Of Ranjha coming across another herdsman:-
As he crosses the boundary of the Kheras
Ranjha meets one like him, grazing his sheep. 
Approaching near, he stares at him
as a lover would at his beloved. 
'From where hail you, O youthful yogi?
say truly, frankly, openly, please.' 
The Muni Agastha's disciple, I
am a bird from Lanka across the seas. 
'For twelve long years have I sat in prayer
and another twelve years I will roam 
'Around the world to see the Lord's
creation, wonderful as a dream. 
'Who ever comes across me now
may certainly expect to be saved.' 
But a pilferer's face, and a liar's tongue
and a lover's eye cannot deceive.
 Of the shepherd's taunting remarks:-
'You are the herdsman of the Syals,
give up this cant, you, notorious knave!
'For long years did you graze their herds,
made love to the daughter of the chief in the wood.

'On the Syal's fair name you were a blot,
and ill report spreads far and wide. 
'The Kheras will kill you, they are so proud
and jealous, haste you away from here. 
'Let the faintest rumour reach them, they
will set your Takht Hazara on fire. 
‘Make yourself rare, the Kheras will flay
your skin, and hand you over to the law. 
'And there those angels of death, the guard
will beat the life quite out of you. 
'And your poor bones will rattle indeed
as those of a sinner in the grave.'
 Of Ranjha's reply to the shepherd:-
'To tend the sheep was the prophets' calling.
but the devil's own you seem to be; 
'For sheer calumnies you invent
and pour out jests too harsh for the ear. 
‘Like a dancer you rock and roll your hips
and broadcast lies and curses in the air. 
'I am a fakir. God's own black knight,
what mischief can you do to me?'
 Of the shepherd's rejoinder:-
'You gave up tillage for herdsmanship,
and when your plans misfired, you ran 
'To the yogis, The Kheras snatched from you
your maid, leaving you to wail and rant. 
'Now listen to me, prick up your ears,
why do you indulge in all this cant? 
'Why do you mix onion in sugar
and waste your precious life in vain?'
 Of the shepherd's further taunt :-
'Though you have smeared your face with ash 
'And roll your eyes in the yogi way.
You are none but Ranjha, Hir's jilted lover,
for whom you have put these rings on your ears.
'The Khera has smacked your cheeks all right 
by taking away your girl by force. 
'And that is a blot on your face, my friend,
you cannot wash off all your life. 
'You looked on as your beard was singed
and shaved for all to see and laugh. 
'And when no other resource availed,
you went and knocked at Balnath's door. 
'Having got your head shorn in the street,
you ask now for the lucky hour. 
'O careless fellow, without good deeds
you have lost the precious years of youth. 
'Now when you go into their yards
the Kheras will batter your limbs, forsooth. 
'Having knowingly quaffed the cup of poison,
you ask for some elixir now.'
 Of Ranjha's reply again :-
'Shut up, O rustic, for seven generations
my fathers have been yogi fakirs. 
'I'll do with hood and cap alone
and live on alms even in my grave. 
'I am afraid of the name of woman,
who is this Hir of whom you speak? 
'I am a celibate yogi and come
from the hoary Himalaya's highest peak. 
'You have the cheek to call me a peasant, 
I feel like kniving you alive.' 
Indeed so trembles Ranjha in rage,
is wrath bursts forth in copious tears.
 Of the shepherd's stinging rejoinder:-
'She'd take your meal to the wood for you,
and swing there mid the trees all day. 
'You played the flute to which they danced.
she and her friends, those mischievous fays. 
'Such a potion had she drunk that ever
infatuation shone in her eyes. 
'The milk of pregnant buffaloes and
embraces of a beautiful maid! 
'And throwing your arms around her neck
to kiss and pet her like your bride! 
'That was your luck! But then against
her will, protesting, she was pushed 
'Into the bridal coach, you were left
an empty drawer out of a chest. 
‘Like a plaything you were left on the floor,
the bridegroom taking the player away.

'As woman grown old will visit the Mecca
and wave the fan over sainted graves, 
'And thief grown old goes into the mosque,
so have you joined the beggars' band. 
'Run off, O fornicator, else
you will be caught and killed or maimed. 
'This trickery will avail you not;
no doubt, you are the best of knaves.'
 Of Ranjha's break-down:-
'You shepherds are known for your cuteness like
Lukman, the healer, as the legend goes. 
'Fate brings me to this alien land
to win Hir, or my head shall roll. 
'My state is utterly desparate.
and the prospect is not bright at all. 
'Do not reveal my secret, please,
and I shall do as you advise.
'A secret should be safe with a man
like you who'll keep it fast and tight. 
'Even though life's lock be broken, not spurt
it out like the crow his morsel of meat.'
 Of the shepherds's further taunts:-
'O you have disgraced the name of a lover
you could not deal as a man with a maid. 
'Why did you presume to love that sparrow
if you could not save her from the kite? 
'You let her be taken away by the Khera.
where went your pride of a lover and a Jat? 
'Why could you not quietly elope with her,
not letting even the wind to know? 
'You should have died at the door of the Syals
before your beauty was snatched from you. 
'O coward, losing your troth to the Khera,
you got your beard singed in a crowd.
 Of Ranjha repeating his request :-
Pleads Ranjha, 'Your taunts have set my heart
to sink, O friend, now this is enough. 
'These tyrants have robbed me of my right,
my curses will certainly root them out. 
'Even should he see a thief break into
a house, a man will keep it tight. 
'You must not speak of it in the village,
for that will wholly spoil my game. 
'Let the doors of the Kheras fly open to me,
pray that I should not miss my aim. 
'An elephant may escape from the bullet.
One cannot ever escape from love.'
 Of the shepherd giving encouragement to Ranjha:-
 'I said it all in fun, O friend,
go and by all means try you luck.
'Let it not singe or scorch your heart,
for love is such a leaping flame, 
'Go meet the wild looks of your love,
for whom you have earned in the world much blame 
'A lover's chance is a panther's leap,
a robber's hazard, or a swindler's trick. 
'O flee with her to the ends of the world,
this Saida is no kin to me. 
'You have spent a life in grazing their cows
yet your reward is beggarly.'
 Of the poet's observations:-
The earth is never content without rain,
so woman ever yearns for the lover's embrace. 
Nor will the lover ever turn from his love,
though it may bring him nothing but ill. 
He may change his guise in a difficult hour,
but danger will never make him quail. 
Only once in a while on thief and lover
may thundering clouds ever shower their grace.

XVII.

 Of Ranjha's entry in the village of the Kheras :-
Having given the shepherd the vow of faith,
Ranjha enters the village, his soul in a rage. 
Asks, 'Which is this village and who is the chief,
since when has it existed here? 
Among maids drawing water from the well,
rollicking and frolicking there like deer, 
Perhaps there is one who has guessed his secret
but keeps it in her bosom's cage.

'This village is Rangpur of the Kheras,
the fair-faced maid tells him with a pat, 
At which he laughs with open glee,
drinks a pail of water and grinds some hemp.
'O eater of puddings, who is the chief?
Is he liberal or stingy, what is his stamp?' 
'Aju is the chief, and his son is Saida,
who has usurped one Ranjha's right.'

As the peasant-girl gave him these names, 
hisheart was filled with joyful hope.
Taking up his horn and skull-shaped bowl, 
he girds up his loins as if to dance. 
He shouts and he rocks, he weeps and he laughs.
he throws himself into a trance. 
He is happy, indeed, like a peasant when
rain pours upon his thirsting crop.
 Of Ranjha's roaming in 
the village in a yogin's guise :-
'Come, yogi, how do you find this land?
young men in public places enquire. 
He rocks and chatters as in a trance,
the cleft-eared lover has nothing to say. 
What praise might one bestow on the Kheras
whose maidens are so bright and gay, 
With eyes as keen as flint and steel
to set the hearts of lovers afire?

They challenge gallants by their looks,
they hardly can conceal their charms 
They seem to have emptied grocery stores
of kohl and bark and henna and oils. 
Now these purveyors of youth have found
in Ranjha a customer of their wiles. 
Their faces look all innocent
and yet their eyes are full of harms.

They cluster round the yogi like
snakes from the basket leaping out. 
He shuts his eyes as in a dream
and visions of their love enjoys.
With the girls round him he like a king
in the howdah of an elephant sways. 
But men who are fond of women, Waris,
shall have from sorrow no respite.
 Of the village girls' comments:-
Surprised at the looks and ways of the yogi,
the village girls go home in glee. 
'O mother, a yogi has come to our village
with rings of wood stuck in his ears. 
'He does not curse or imprecate
if he does not get what he desires. 
'Skull-bowl in hand, crook on his shoulder,
a strange-like stole thrown over his back, 
'He shouts and groans like one in a frenzy
and his hair is falling about his neck. 
'Nor shaven clean nor matted hair,
of melancholy no devotee.

'His love-laden eyes are full of shine,
jet black, but flashing bright and deep, 
'Full of intoxication, wild
and keen like daggers whetted fresh. 
'Sometimes he throws the soothsayer's dice,
or draws mysterious lines in ash. 
'Sometimes he stands and blows the horn
and then he blows the conch and the pipe.

'He calls on God all hours of the day,
and women give him alms with cheers. 
'His eyebrows arch like he were drunk,
he wears on his neck strange strings of beads. 
'His handsome face looks under his locks
like the moon under dark and thick-layered clouds. 
'Without giving or accepting blame,
his eyes sometimes shed copious tears.
'He seems to have met some perfect saint 
who cleft his ears for rings of wood. 
'He is a disciple of Bal Nath.
lashed into a frenzy by the love of God.