- 1 My thanks to Agnes Clerc-Renaud, Alexandra de Mersan, Stéphen Huard, and Emmanuel Pannier, for the (...)
- 2 The term “visitor” is used in reference to the term for this type of pilgrimage: “devotional visit (...)
1It must be admitted that the economic life of the “shrines” (dargāh)1 of Muslim saints in South Asia is not a theme that has inspired scientific literature. In the field the researcher is confronted with silence on this subject from his interlocutors. Questions about the economic resources and expenses of the institution, which is intended to economically and ritually manage the tomb containing the mortal remains of a saint, often remain unanswered, and access to its archives is denied. The researcher is only able to state, without excessive uncertainty, that its main income comes from the donations of visitors2 and from its agricultural land. Yet this subject is not without significance.
- 3 By permitting some individuals to do “business” (kār o bār) with visitors (selling bracelets or te (...)
- 4 See Rashid (1978), Kozlowski (1985), and Mann (1989).
- 5 See the first study on this topic by U. Bin Ibad (2019).
2As of the 12th century, Sufism was formalized through orders sanctioned by the Delhi Sultanate (1210-1526), then by the Mughal Empire (1526-1857). This form of saint worship grew in popularity, and its patronage would make the sanctuaries wealthy through endowments of agricultural land and festivals organized in honor of the saint, especially as the sanctuaries were exempted from taxes on their agricultural production and on festival incomes. The wealth was ideally devoted to the saint, used to perpetuate his veneration and to maintain the institution. In addition, the dargāhs play an essential economic role at the local level as redistributors of wealth: they feed the beggars and the poor, provide both licit (paid as wages) and illicit work,3 and offer medical and/or educational services. The wealth generated was substantial enough that the colonial power sought to appropriate it through taxation, prescribing the Islamic law model of the religious foundation managed as an Islamic endowment (waqf),4 which made saints legal owners of their shrines, considered inalienable assets. The post-independence states continued this policy through the waqf board and, in the case of Pakistan, through the nationalization of shrines.5
- 6 Saints are usually buried alongside their companions or family members.
3I myself abandoned the study of this subject, having lost all hope of obtaining direct information on the revenues of various Indo-Pakistani shrines. However, in observing the daily practices in the tombs and being interested in the fate of the offerings brought by visitors, some appeared to have a different fate from the others: the cloths. Whereas once received, some are used to cover the shrine’s tombs6 and others are distributed to different categories of people, the majority is discreetly resold by the dargāh. This discovery, made by chance, prompted me to ponder the modalities of the circulation of these cloths, the nature of their transfers, but also the nature of the cloths themselves. I saw this as an opportunity to reopen the subject of the economy of sanctuaries, considering these cloths as one of their potential resources.
- 7 The data presented here are the result of several study fields conducted in North India between 19 (...)
4To analyze the circulation patterns, I will rely on the facts observed in the ethnography I conducted at two dargāhs: that of the martyr Ghāzī Miyāñ (d. eleventh century), one of the oldest saintly figures in North India, located in the city of Bahraich (Uttar Pradesh), and that of the Sufi saint Lāl Shahbāz Qalandar (d. thirteenth century), a Pakistani exponent of the Qalandarī Sufi path, located in southern Pakistan in Sehwan Sharīf (Sindh).7 As we shall see, there are similarities between these two shrines as well as a diversity of practices; I see this as an invitation to consider these circulations as a principle common to these institutions, although concrete modalities depend on local sociological context.
5In effect, these circulations, which correspond to several spheres, that of the ritual economy (as a devotional practice) and that of the market economy (Mayfair 2000), are also part of a society marked by the hierarchy of the caste system, in which the ways of giving and receiving are conditioned by the social status of the protagonists. The saint himself occupies a place in this hierarchy, which encompasses all the elements of the cosmos. He is an entity superior to humans because of his ability to perform “miracles” (karāmāt) and inferior to God, of whom he is considered a “friend” (according to the Arabic term wali) but not an equal. Hindus, who engage in this faith, compare him to a “little god” (deotā).
6In order to understand the modalities of the circulation of cloths and what is played out through them, the first part of the article will present an ethnographic description of the trajectories of the cloths, their concrete modes of circulation and their uses. This will lead into three analyses: the types of transfers that these circulations reveal, based on the conceptual framework of Alain Testart (2001, 2007) and Christophe Darmangeat (2016), a reflection on the “biography of things” (Kopytoff [1986] and Appadurai [1986]), and an analysis of the nature of goods in the tradition of Maurice Godelier’s “substitute objects of men and gods” (1996). Throughout these different analyses the question of the social relations that are actualized during these transfers will also be addressed.
- 8 These offerings will not be discussed in this article.
7Worship of Muslim saints involves making a “devotional visit” (ziyārat). The visitor goes to the saint’s tomb, where his physical remains rest, and performs a set of locally prescribed rituals in homage (Ortis 2017a). “Offerings” (nazr, niyāz, caṛhānā) are made which take the form of prayers, flowers, incense, light, food, and money.8 However, if the visitor wishes to ask the saint for his intercession and benefit from his thaumaturgical abilities, the “formulation of his wish” (mannat mañgnā, mannat mānnā) must be accompanied by the offering of a cloth, called a “sheet” (cādar or cādor).
- 9 Patricia Jeffery (1979), in her book on the “seclusion” (purdah) of Indo-Muslim women in North Ind (...)
- 10 To our knowledge, the only academic research on the cloths is Imrana Tanveer’s Master of Visual Ar (...)
- 11 The Qul are recited at the moment of burial.
- 12 The average monthly salary is around 40 € in Pakistan, or 220 € monthly in purchasing power parity (...)
8Before entering the dargāh, the visitor buys a sheet in a nearby shop specializing in devotional objects. Originally, women produced the cloth at home9; today, it is mass-produced in small, family-run silk-screen printing workshops.10 The sheet is made of cotton, is rectangular and approximately one and a half meters by fifty centimeters, and usually bears Qur’anic inscriptions, such as the Muslim “profession of faith” (shahāda or kalimā), the names of the Prophet’s family members, or the four chapters of the Qur’an named Qul.11 Its market value varies between fifty and one hundred rupees (2018, between 30 and 60 euro cents) according to the quality of the cloth.12
- 13 Except during the festivals, when the administration indirectly benefits from this trade by rentin (...)
- 14 The cult of Lāl Shahbāz Qalandar is based on the “master-disciple” (pirī- murīdī) relationship. Th (...)
- 15 Given that the spiritual masters are large landowners and that the region is a producer of cotton, (...)
9At the shrine of Ghāzī Miyāñ, the shopkeepers are members of the community of “servants” (sing. khadim, pl. khūddām) responsible for his tomb. The latter are the descendants of two brothers who were the saint’s personal servants and, according to oral tradition, originators of his cult and dargāh. Since the transformation of the shrine into an Islamic endowment (waqf) at the beginning of the 20th century and its management by the waqf board, the servants no longer own it. Only a few are salaried by the shrine administration to care for the tomb and perform rituals (Ortis 2017b). The money obtained from the sale of cloth in the shops goes directly to the servants.13 In Sehwan, the majority of the devotional specialty shops (about 30) belong to former owners of the Shahbāz shrine nationalized in 1962. The former owners are descendants of two “spiritual masters” (sajjādā nashīn) to the Qalandarī mystical path.14 The profits from the sale of the sheets here benefit the shopkeepers and indirectly the spiritual masters.15
10Generally, the visitor offers his sheet to the saint by presenting it folded to the tomb. The gesture is literally called “bringing before” (pesh karnā), in other words “presenting” or “submitting.” The sheet is then spread over the grave by a servant of the dargāh with or without the participation of the visitor. Next, the visitor formulates his wish. He promises that if the wish is granted, the saint will be given more gifts and/or that gifts to the poor will be distributed in his name, which amounts to crediting the saint with the merits due the visitor for having helped the poor. To the request for favors, materialized by the sheet, is thus attached the promise of a return gift or counter-gift.
11Yet the sheet may be submitted to the saint without being given over to him: after having placed it on the tomb and prayed, the visitor takes it back and leaves with it. This immediate return is still arguably a form of transfer; the recovered sheet is different than when it was given; it has become imbued with the “power” (shaktī, tāqat) of the saint, having been in contact with his tomb. The sheet has become a contact relic with prophylactic properties.
- 16 Unlike for Ghāzī Miyāñ, the servants of Shahbāz are simply residents of Sehwan and employees of th (...)
12At the shrine of Shahbāz, the visitor may be offered a sheet by the servant16 standing at the tomb. The servant takes one from the pile of sheets offered at the tomb by previous visitors, puts it in contact with the tomb, then passes it over the visitor’s forehead and around his neck. A bill of 100 rupees is demanded from the visitor in return; if the latter complies, he leaves with the sheet, if not, it must be given back.
- 17 The term nāpāk, literally “impure,” refers to the Hindu hierarchical opposition of pure and impure (...)
13By taking the sheet home, the visitor brings with it the power of the saint; by wearing it (as it is or transformed into a garment covering only the upper and pure part of the body), he expects to be cured or protected against diseases. The sheet is also used to wrap precious objects, such as the Qur’an or devotional artifacts. It is not used to protect them from defilement or “impurity” (nāpāk),17 as it is itself subject to this by its nature as an offering, and its use requires many precautions to conserve its purity. Instead, presumably, the sheet encasing the precious objects, marks their separation from common things and reinforces their religious or ritual dimension. In any case, the interpersonal links between the visitor and the saint “emerge strengthened from this journey of things” (Weber 2000: 96).
- 18 The question arises as to whether a cover can be considered an ex-voto, which I do not think it ca (...)
- 19 That was between €5.55 and over €500 in 2018.
14Among the goods promised to the saint for the granting of a wish, which must always represent a significant financial effort by the visitor, is another type of cloth, a “cover” (ghilāf).18 It also has a rectangular shape, but is larger (about two to three meters long) and made of an expensive fabric (silk, satin, velvet or damask, chintz, banarasi) decorated with gold or silver thread embroidery, trimmings and/or sequins. Its market value varies according to the quality and ornamentation of the fabric, between one thousand and several tens of thousands of rupees,19 and it can also be found in the shops near the shrines.
15Once a wish has been granted, the devotee returns to the threshold of the shrine in a procession to the sound of instrumental music or songs (an indicator of joy and good omen in South Asia) carrying at arm’s length, with other members of his family, the unfolded cover (in which other offerings are placed). After crossing the threshold, the procession continues to the tomb, and with the help of a servant the cover is spread over it and left there. At the shrine of Ghāzī Miyān, on this occasion the visitor may offer clothing, made from cloths previously offered to the saint, to poor families residing in the shrine. While the propitiatory visit can be made at any time of the year, this counter gift can only be transferred one year after the wish is granted. A year is necessary for the visitor who has experienced a miraculous transformation to regain his equilibrium and a proper place in his family and society. Once this period has passed, the person granted the wish will return to the saint to thank him, preferably on the occasion of one of the saint’s festivals.
- 20 The bi-weekly bath at the tomb of Ghāzī Miyāñ serves the function of cleansing and purifying his t (...)
16There are therefore two types of cloth purchased at the market and presented to the saint by being placed on his tomb: the sheet (offered when making a wish) and the cover (given in thanks for the granting of a wish). The words used for these fabrics refer to household linen or upholstery, which are usually used to cover or wrap things. We have so far distinguished them by their size and material value; however, the servants of these two shrines each use other criteria to define them. In the shrine of Ghāzī Miyāñ, the cover is sewn on one side so that it completely fits the tomb and does not move, while the sheet should neither be sewn nor fully cover the monument. In Shahbāz’s, while the sheet is compared to a small blanket that “comes and goes over the tomb” (as the servants put it), the cover must be large and remain there. As we can see, their criteria refer to the function of the thing in space and in time: cover and leave versus cover/envelope and remain. The servants do not let the sheets accumulate on the grave removing them regularly throughout the day to be stored in bundles tied in a sheet in the “room of [material] wealth” (māl khānā) at Ghāzī Miyāñ and in the “storeroom” (store) at the Shahbāz dargāh. Unlike the sheet, the cover remains on the grave longer; until the annual “bath” (ghusl) festival for Shahbāz and until the bi-weekly bath for Ghāzī Miyāñ.20 The covers are then kept in the same room as the sheets. From then on, these two cloths follow different circulations (detailed below), which can be presumed to be related to the time they spend on the tomb, the contact they had with it, and the respective values attributed to them as a result.
17Finally, our two pieces of cloth can be distinguished by the fact that they bear witness to different “intentions” (niyyat) on the part of the donor (the visitor) towards the recipient (the saint). When the former offers a sheet to the latter, adopting a humble and modest attitude, he does so to ask for a favor and what he gives calls for a return on the part of the recipient saint: we can consider this a solicitation gift. In contrast, when the donor gives a cover in an ostentatious manner, showing his joy at having (re)found prosperity, he does so to show the recipient his gratitude for having his wish granted: in this case, it is a gift of return or thanks. The gift of solicitation and the counter gift are thus effected through the medium of two cloths. What happens to them once the ritual is completed?
- 21 The “shirt” is chosen by the servant on this aesthetic criterion.
- 22 Ghāzī Miyāñ has a specific outfit for each of the celebrations that reiterate his engagement, his (...)
18The vernacular terms explicitly express the function of these cloths: they serve to cover or wrap, which is further evidenced by the relic-by-contact sheet recovered for home use by a visitor. However, the servants of Ghāzī Miyāñ refer to them as the saint’s “dress” (apne kapṛe) or “outfits” (apne libās). Each week, on the occasion of the two baths of his tomb, a servant removes the clothes, washes the stone sarcophagus, and then lays out on it a clean outfit in the following order: his “undershirt” (zir-e hirāsat), a thin red cotton cloth without any decoration also called a coverlet (to which I will return); his “shirt” (qamīs), a “beautiful” (khūbsūrat)21 ornamented coverlet received as a counter gift; and a sheet bearing a Qur’anic inscription, an earlier solicitation gift.22 Finally, the servant places above the saint’s head a “crown” (tāj), also called a “turban” (pagṛī), made especially by the martyr’s gardener with flowers from its garden.
- 23 The cult of Shahbāz is strongly influenced by Shi’ism.
- 24 By its aigrettes, the headdress of Shahbāz evokes that of Mughal and Hindu kings.
- 25 The ankle bracelet is one of the attributes of the malañg renunciant, which Shahbāz had been durin (...)
- 26 The ceremony by which the spiritual masters of Sehwan assume their role is called the “attachment (...)
- 27 On their wedding day, a bride and groom are treated like a royal couple.
19Comparatively, the tomb of Shahbāz is more idiosyncratic since it does not consist of a sarcophagus containing the body (as is usually the case), but instead of a pile of offered covers (as a counter gift or for the feast of his bath) that have accumulated directly on his body since his death (thirteenth century). According to the shrine administration, between two hundred and two hundred and fifty covers are offered to him each year. Like for Ghāzī Miyāñ, Shahbāz’s top cover is beautifully crafted concealing beneath it a simple red cover without decoration (to which I will return) that is changed weekly; this is overlaid by a similarly crafted cover in green for the Prophet Muhammad’s birthday, and in black on the days of mourning in the Shi’a Duodecimal calendar.23 As already mentioned, there is also a pile of sheets (offered as gifts of solicitation) on the side of the tomb and accessible to the servant standing beside it. The location of Shahbāz’s head is marked by a “turban” (dastār) specially made by a fakir (faqīr or malañg) associated with one of the lineages of spiritual masters who formerly owned the shrine. This turban is made of eucalyptus leaves and surrounded by a cloth headband, called a “crown” (tāj), to which are attached “aigrettes” (kalgī or kalangī)24; “necklaces” (hār and sehrā) of fresh and plastic roses and a “ankle bracelet” (kaṛā)25 surround the turban. As one Shahbāz servant put it, “the turban marks the presence of the [saint’s] head by evoking a king’s crown.” While the terms dastār and pagṛī evoke persons in leadership (of a lineage or tribe) to whom respect and honor are owed,26 the headpiece itself is more reminiscent of a king’s crown or a bridegroom’s headdress27 given the profusion of decoration. The headpieces of these two saints clearly indicate their superiority in status in the social hierarchy.
20In examining the way in which these two tombs are dressed, another type of cover appeared, red in color and without ornamentation, placed as close as possible to the (body or tomb of the) saint. In both cases, this cover is not commercially available and is made especially for the saint in question. Ghāzī Miyāñ has six of these. They are prepared each year, on the night his servants celebrate his engagement, by the saint’s personal tailor and his dyer (of caste and profession) each from families having served as such over generations. No one, apart from these two men and the servants, is supposed to see this cover. In Shahbāz’s case, he is presented three of these red cloths each year on the anniversary of his death by three Sehwan spiritual masters who have them specially made by local tailors. Again, they are not made visible to the public. Instead, each cloth is wrapped in another white cloth, tied with garlands of flowers, and placed on a tray. The tray is then carried on the turbaned head of the spiritual master in a procession accompanied by music to be presented to the servants.
21This type of cover is characterized by its great simplicity and its absence of ornamentation. In this article, I will refer to it as a “personal cover.” The adjective “personal” refers to the following facts: it is made especially for the saint (it is not found in the market or on the other tombs of the shrine), it is offered to him on one of his feasts, and it remains hidden. In contrast, I call the one offered as a counter gift a “ceremonial cover,” because it is carefully selected by the servants from the stock of covers received on the sole criterion of aesthetics, to be placed on the tomb in full public view. Finally, I keep the term “sheet” to designate the cloths offered as solicitation gifts.
- 28 However, certain individuals may see it during dreamlike experiences or in modified states of cons (...)
- 29 See on this subject Aubin-Boltanski (2013).
- 30 Notion in which these authors include Christian and Muslim saints.
22If we follow the servants’ interpretation, covering the tomb with cloths is tantamount to “dressing” (pahnānā) the saint and, consequently, by not leaving him “naked” (nañgā), to showing him the “respect” (ehtarām, ‘izzat, adab) he is due. The body of the saint, unlike that of the common man, is imputrescible and incorruptible and, even if the passage through death has made it invisible to the ordinary sense of vision,28 one must continue to show it respect. As can be seen here, this charge is fulfilled through the washing and the dressing of the grave. The latter, although a “more or less abstract (or non-figurative) representation[s]” (Albert et al. 2013: 171),29 is a “surrogate object” “intended to evoke” the “supernatural entities” (ibid.: 166).30 In order for the tomb to become fully the substitute of the saint, it is necessary to give it a “saintly” appearance by covering it with cloths and a turban-crown in keeping with its status, as if dressing its body, or covering its person. By this operation, the saint’s body is once again visible and accessible to the world below. Visitors thus participate fully in the crafting of the saint’s body through their donations of cloth. The particular treatment of the saints’ graves clearly contrasts with the graves of commoners, which usually consist of a simple mound of earth (Ortis 2020). The power of these cloths rests in their actualizing what death has made invisible to the living, the corporeality of the saint being an indispensable element for visitors to benefit from his thaumaturgical abilities. If the names sheet and cover refer to inexpensive, ordinary things of everyday consumption, when these fabrics enter the field of the cult to the saints, they acquire a strong symbolic charge: as artifacts of this form of worship, they are “ritual objects” (Albert et al. 2013, 2016, Albert & Kedzierska-Manzon 2016).
- 31 These 3,000 sheets represented the substantial sum of 500,000 rupees at the time, quoted by P. M. (...)
23I do not have a personal count of the number of cloths offered at these two shrines. However, some idea of the volume can be gained from The Times of India’s report of July 8, 1976, concerning North India’s most popular saint, Mu`īn al-dīn Chishti, who is said to have received 3,000 sheets31 in three days for his feast day (`urs), at a time when religious tourism was not yet in vogue, mobilities much lower, and visitors’ purchasing power also lower. In view of this number and the two uses described above (contact relic and saint’s garment), one may wonder what happens to such a quantity of cloths. Do they all follow the same circuit?
24Personal covers are used only for the saint for whom they were made, their number is limited and renewed only once a year (six for Ghāzī Miyāñ, three for Shahbāz). They do not enter into circulation with humans finishing their lifecycle in water. They are, in traditional phrasing, “put to cool” (ṭhañḍā karnā), in the Anarkali lake for Ghāzī Miyāñ, and in the Indus for Shahbāz. Like with a number of other ritual artifacts impregnated with the power of a god or a saint, care is taken to ensure that they are not tainted by impurity even when they are disposed of.
25The finest ceremonial covers are used multiple times, either to cover the tomb of the saint or the graves of his companions in his shrine. When servants feel they are worn out, the covers are “put to cool” in the same places as the personal covers. However, they may also be redistributed.
- 32 The number seventy-two echoes the oral tradition recounting the events following Shahbāz’s death, (...)
26In the case of the Shahbāz shrine, its ceremonial covers can be given to three categories of people. First, to the spiritual masters of Sehwan who have rights to this saint’s wealth as descendants of his disciples-companions and heirs of the Qalandarī mystical path. During the so-called Bath Festival, the spiritual masters are invited by the shrine director to collectively remove seventy-two32 ceremonial covers from among those that have been placed on the grave during the past year. These are shared and then replaced in part on that same occasion by new covers offered by each individual master. Spiritual masters then use their “new” covers to cover the graves of their ascendants and to decorate the places where they receive their disciples (their guesthouses, their Sufi hospices, and their imāmbargāh—the gathering place for the commemoration of the martyrdom of Hussain, the grandson of the Prophet, named Muharram). They may also redistribute them within their circles of relationships (of affinity, friendship, political-economic), for example in their daughter’s dowry or as birthday gifts.
27The members of the Sayyed caste (descendants of the Prophet Muhammad, the highest caste in the Muslim system), to which belong Shahbāz and almost all the spiritual masters of Sehwan, are entitled to one of the saint’s ceremonial covers for each of the three main sequences of their personal funeral rites. One is used at the time of burial to cover their corpse wrapped in its shroud. A second is used to cover the grave on the fortieth day of death and the third is used to replace the second on the first anniversary of the death. These covers honor the master’s memory, but also mark the progressive transformation of the dead during the first year.
28Finally, ceremonial covers are given as a “gift” (tohfā) by the director of the shrine to certain visitors, in recognition of their spiritual, political, economic or media status, in short to all those who are called in South Asia V.V.I.P.s (very, very important people) and who represent wealth, power and influence.
- 33 An introductory sewing workshop for young girls, hosted and supported by the shrine, transforms th (...)
29The circulation of ceremonial covers in Ghāzī Miyāñ is much smaller than in Shahbāz. In the cases observed, covers were donated by the director of the shrine to be turned into clothing for (only) the upper body or head33 as protection for the frail or sick. In contrast, the director widely distributes the donated sheets from the stock he has in his office, and in particular to three categories of people. Ritual specialists, who intervene during the major festivals and who are not salaried employees of the institution (such as musicians and exorcists), receive one when they receive their fees. The director ceremoniously wraps the sheet around their head as if it were a “turban” (pagṛī). The donated sheet in this case is a “gift” (nazrānā), more precisely “something presented in homage” (Qureshi 1990: 467), which places the recipient in a position of superiority and the donor in a position of recognition towards the former. The director offers sheets to the VIPs in the same way, but this time as a simple gift. Finally, the sick of modest background who come to the director’s office to ask for a sheet, may receive one, but in this case the sheet is given without any protocol and the director usually delegates the task to his maid. Despite this, the recipient receives it with humility.
30At the Shahbāz shrine, sheets are redistributed by the director once a year on a large scale; a stock of seven thousand sheets are distributed among one hundred and forty-three personalities of the city (including spiritual masters). Each recipient may receive between thirty and two hundred sheets. These sheets are then used for the two most important celebrations of the year. During the commemoration of Muharram, they decorate the imāmbargāh and are used to wrap the saint’s relics and Shi’a devotional artifacts processioned into town. For the “Wedding Festival” (`urs, celebration of the anniversary of a saint’s death) of Shahbāz, the sheets are used by spiritual masters to make “tickets to paradise” (ṭikaṭ-e jannat or jannat kā ṭikaṭ), small squares cut from a sheet, which they distribute to their followers as they reaffirm their allegiance.
31Finally, there are the donated sheets which I found by chance were going back to the market. I had been told, by servants of Ghāzī Miyāñ, that these went to the room of riches before being taken to the lake. However, my observations led me to believe that instead, the servants would drop off bundles of sheets in the shrine’s only shop (run by members of their community) to be resold. My observations at the Shahbāz shrine led to the same finding. At the opening or closing of the shrine, servants would meet with shopkeepers (and wholesalers?) in a secluded corner of the shrine and sell them bales of donated sheets.
32The return to the market of this sheet, a solicitation gift that became a contact relic after touching the saint’s tomb, did not correspond to my own perception of the object. Indeed, each time someone had wished to offer me such a sheet, the question had arisen as to whether I would be able to care for it and avoid polluting it. This sheet was no longer an ordinary thing because it had been transformed by the ritual of the propitiatory visit. It did not make sense to me that it could go back to the market as if nothing had happened.
33To understand why the sheet (not the cover) can circulate until worn condition between the market and the shrine, we must now define the types of transfers that underlie the different sequences of cloth circulation. I have so far used the terms “solicitation gift” and “counter-gift” (“thank-you gift” or “return gift”), but are they really gifts? And if these cloths are gifts at one point in their journey, do they remain in gift form as they circulate?
34Since the work of Marcel Mauss (1993: 164-279), anthropologists have generally referred to transfers between humans and invisible entities, described by Mauss as “the true owners of the things and goods of the world” (ibid.: 167), as “gifts,” because the consideration given by the latter does not materialize in a concrete, observable thing, but rests on faith in their attributes (those of holiness in our case) and their effects on humans and the course of things. However, many authors have noted the ambiguous nature of the Maussian gift, which “involves a series of obligations, including that of giving back, that make it actually function as an exchange” (Darmangeat 2016: 21). Alain Testart’s typology of transfers has since made it possible to clearly distinguish gift from exchange in the following terms. If there is a gift, there is “renunciation of any right to that property as well as any right [... to] that transfer” (Testart 2007: 22); as Christophe Darmangeat puts it, it “may possibly [...] be accompanied by a transfer in the opposite direction (a counter-gift), but the latter is never enforceable [“exigible” in French]” (2016: 23). In contrast, exchange implies “for each of the exchangers enforceable obligations” (Testart 2007: 221) and a “legitimacy to resort to violence if necessary” (Testart 2001: 741) to require the return.
35An analysis of the relations of obligation at work in the three transfers occurring in the practice of venerating the saints—between the visitor and the shopkeeper, between the visitor and the saint, and the transfers from the shrine—will allow us to define their type. After studying each of the transactions and the relations of obligation that govern them, we will propose to define the whole that constitutes the series of transfers, since they are linked together.
36As we have seen, apart from the personal cover, the fabrics come from the market. They are therefore initially goods acquired in exchange for money in the context of a relationship between a consumer and a merchant, who himself buys objects with a view to reselling them. The shopkeepers report that the fabrics are purchased from workshops in the big cities or through wholesalers. The transfer between the visitor and the shopkeeper falls within the sphere of commercial transactions. The visitor and merchant do not need to have “any other relationship than that of exchange” (Testart 2007: 134), even though it is common for visitors to return to the same vendor and a personal link can be established between them. Nonetheless, even in this case, it can be assumed that the exchange relationship takes precedence and that it is based above all on a relationship to objects and not on an interpersonal relationship. Finally, the commercial transfer is instantaneous (except in the case of credit sales) and the customer’s monetary counter-transfer immediately neutralizes his debt to the shopkeeper. In this sphere of commercial transfers, the value (price) of the cloth is established by the mechanisms of the market (meeting of a supply and a demand) and the haggling and arrangements based, in the context of the veneration of saints, on symbolic or religious issues. This transaction can be described as an “exchange,” since both the first transfer (the cloth) and the counter-transfer (the money) are legally enforceable (by state law). It can be noted that in both cases, the sale of the cloth benefits the former owners of the shrine, either directly (and exclusively for Ghāzī Miyāñ) or indirectly (for Shahbāz).
37To understand the transfers between the visitor and the saint, we must now leave the sphere of commercial transactions for that of non-commercial exchanges, where the interpersonal bond between the two protagonists controls the exchange relationship and the relationship to objects (Testart 2007: 143-147). This interpersonal bond, based on devotion to the saint, is often inherited from parents and engages the devotee from birth. The devotee must, however, maintain it, nurturing it throughout his or her life by the practice of devotional visitation if he or she wishes the bond to be lasting and transmissible to his or her descendants.
38The devotional visit does not necessarily or obligatorily imply expenses. Those who reside near a saint and visit him frequently are content to offer “prayers” (salām), accompanied (or not) by a few incense sticks or flowers. We are not in the register of the primary transfer enforceable without an enforceable counterpart (A. Testart’s “transfer of the third kind”): there is no entrance ticket to buy or tax to pay in order to visit a saint. Moreover, there is no official body in the shrines controlling transfers between visitors and the saint, nor any preestablished legal obligation, formalized or guaranteed by state law through a system of sanctions. Observation does reveal that the visitor always brings offerings (except in the case of short visits), and that his expenses will be greater the less frequently he comes, the greater the distance he travels, and the more significant his “intentions” (niyyat) towards the saint. However, according to my interlocutors, only a propitiatory visit involves the transfer of a sheet to which is attached the promise of a counter-gift.
39The visitor’s offerings do not prevent him from perceiving himself as a mendicant presenting himself empty-handed before the saint and leaving with full hands. Whether there is a primary transfer (of offerings) or not, according to the visitor, there is always a quid pro quo for his visit from which he benefits: at best his wish will be granted or at least his situation will improve, and in every case, he will have increased his capital of “merits” (savāb) with God. Nevertheless, for this to happen, certain conditions are required. The first of these is to be authorized in a dream by the saint himself to make the visit. The visit and the accompanying transfers are thus conditioned by a personal bond between the devotee and his saint. Without the actualization and nurturing of this link, the type of transfer we are studying here would not take place: we are therefore in the non-commercial sphere. But what is the nature of the obligations at stake for each of these transfers?
40With regard to the obligations of the visitor, a clear distinction must be made between a devotional visit and a propitiatory visit. In the first case, the obligation of a transfer is so weak that it is possible to visit a saint regularly with empty hands (but with a mouth full of prayers). In the second case, in the absence of a controlling authority, the visitor is not prevented from making his request for a vow if he comes to the saint without a sheet, but this is not how things are done... His first transfer is not strictly speaking obligatory, for if he comes empty-handed, he cannot be compelled to give, not even on insistence of the servants. Nevertheless, this transfer is based on the idea that in order to receive from the saint, it is necessary to solicit him with a gift; it acts as a trigger. The transfer is governed by a moral and social obligation based on the principle of reciprocity brought to light by Mauss: “I give so that you give” (1993: 169). Generally speaking, in South Asia, it is believed that in order to enrich oneself, one must first be generous in circulating wealth, as illustrated by the following story of a devout couple in Shahbāz. Following the bankruptcy of the man’s business, the couple lose their house and come to seek the saint’s help and the advice of a faqīr; the faqīr assures them that by financing the construction of his shelter, they will recover their financial situation and their own house. When I met them, they could once again show off their wealth. The initial transfer is indeed a gift because it is not enforceable, but it is a solicitation gift since it is given to elicit a response, a favor, from the recipient.
41What about the saint’s return obligations? Is the visitor entitled to demand a miracle in return for the offering of a sheet? It is impossible to compel the saint to grant his devotee’s wish, neither by legal or judicial means, nor by coercion or violence. The only recourse that the devotee has available to him in the face of a saint who is deaf to his entreaties and gifts, is to turn away from him. But is it in the nature of saints to behave in this way? Not according to the visitors who collectively agree that it is not their offerings that compel the saint to solve their problems, but his “munificence” (sakhāvat). And yet this recognition of generosity cannot exist without a recognition of miracles (second transfer), the only means by which the saint demonstrates that he is generous and a powerful agency and therefore indeed a saint.
42Saints are not content to simply respond to requests made of them. They too have a desire to interact with humans in order to enhance their prestige and may even demand it by force if necessary. This is attested to by numerous legends of how a saint unacknowledged by his or her locality disturbs the dreams of the inhabitants or produces disorder until he or she is accorded the expected veneration. Positioning in the hierarchy of saints depends on the nature and extent of thaumaturgical abilities and effectiveness. Saints who cease to serve the needs of their devotees end up forgotten (Jamous 1995), therefore there is no doubt, that a saint is willing to exchange. In the event, however, that the propitiatory visit did not bring the expected favors, a legitimate argument can be made to justify this: the saint judged that the devotee did not deserve (for the time being) his beneficence. The unfulfilled visitor will often be the first to blame himself and explain that the saint expects him to change in order to be favored. Seeing one’s first transference accepted by the saint, and then receiving a favor in return (second transference), does not only depend on the gift of solicitation; it also involves the morality of the visitor. The moral dimension is important here because the gift is only accepted under certain conditions. In order to benefit from a miracle, one must show that one is “deserving” (mustahiq), that one is worthy of being chosen among all those who crowd the door of the saint. When one worships the saints, one must offer them material wealth but also dedicate oneself to them.
43Under these conditions, the visitor has no recourse to demand that his wish be granted. His means are limited to repeating his visits and his offerings of sheets (first transfer), or to abandoning the saint for another. Saint and visitor thus have obligations towards each other, but they are not imposed in the same way, because of their different nature and their hierarchical relationship. As will be shown, the saints have the means (thaumaturgical capacity) and the legitimacy (divine and royal) to resort to violence to obtain their due (third transfer).
44If a wish is granted (second transfer) but the visitor does not keep his promise of making a new transfer (ceremonial cover) of gratitude, he knows from the cautionary tales heard since childhood that saints can become angry and take the law into their own hands, as one of the legends of Ghāzī Miyāñ illustrates. Ghāzī Miyāñ was born to a barren mother who had begged the intercession of another saint. She forgot to thank the saint (or in other versions, she made some mistakes) making the saint angry. He cursed the young Ghāzī Miyāñ to die unmarried on the day of his wedding. The shrines themselves are compared to courts of justice by devotees who call them darbār. The term, which means both “court of justice” and “royal audience,” suggests the shrine houses a saint who is also a judge. Indeed it is said that the saints render their judgements after examining the petitions of their devotees the closed hours of their shrines.
45Thus, the third transfer (the ceremonial cover) is governed by legal obligations considered legitimate by those who subscribe to the worship of saints and involves a compulsory payment due under penalty. This obligation is not a matter of civil or Muslim law, but of the specific jurisdiction of each saint, who is recognized as having a (divine) legitimacy to enforce his law in his “court of justice” comparable of a king, whose body-tomb bears the attributes. Thus, Ghāzī Miyāñ’s renown rests as much on his ability to heal lepers who humbly come to him for help as on his ability to inflict leprosy on those who contravene his decisions or break his law.
46This chain of three transfers is neither totally one of exchange nor gift as social form. It is a hybrid, where ingredients of gift are mixed with ingredients of exchange. Only the third transfer (the ceremonial cloth), in response to the second (the miracle), is a required counterpart. The first (the sheet) and the second (the granting of the vow), without being compulsory, are both reciprocal conditions (for one to take place the other must necessarily be executed) as in an exchange. We are in what C. Darmengeat calls “compound transfers,” defined as:
A combination, where two simple forms are intimately associated in a single practice. There is no vagueness about enforceability [“exigibilité” in French], but it does not concern all the elements of the transfer in the same way. In this case, we can speak of a compound transfer, in the manner of chemists who oppose compound bodies to simple bodies. (Darmengeat 2016: 30.)
47In the case of transfers between the shrine and the two ends of the social scale (the V.V.I.P. and the poor), we can speak of a gift: the director of the shrine is free to give (or not), and no direct counter-gift (immediate or deferred) is expected. However, he does not give the same kind of gift every time. When he gives to a humble visitor through the intermediary of his maid, he is doing him a favor authorized by the superiority of his status, while at the same time fulfilling the moral and social obligation to help the most vulnerable. In the case of a V.V.I.P., it is rather a question of honoring oneself (by publicly displaying the saint’s ability to attract personalities), while showing appreciation for the recipient (through a gift). What is (re)affirmed here is the circularity of the relationship between saints and people of power, where patronage and devotion are mixed and intertwined; the saint guides the latter in their tasks and the VVIPs support the functioning of the shrine.
48On the other hand, when the shrine gives to people who have rights to the saint’s wealth, it is an obligation. In the case of the ritual specialists of the Ghāzī Miyāñ cult, this can be considered an exchange: the sheet (in addition to the monetary reward) is the counter-part due for the primary transfer of these specialists (the performance of the ritual). In the case of the spiritual masters of the Shahbāz cult, it is instead a “transfer of the third kind” (Testart 2007); the transfer is required whereas its counter-part is not, at least today, given that the masters are no longer involved in the shrine’s administration and management. In any case, although they have lost their rights over its monetary wealth, they have retained those over its symbolic wealth.
49Finally, the fourth phase of the circulation of these cloths, which concerns only the sheets, brings us back to commercial exchange motivated by financial profit. In the case of Ghāzī Miyāñ, the successive resale of the same cloth benefits only its servants who run the shrine’s sole shop. In the case of Shahbāz, this phase concerns the administration of the shrine (which resells the sheets) and the shopkeepers (who buy them at a lower cost in order to resell them at the price of a new one); one can make the hypothesis that an additional link is interposed between the two in the person of the wholesaler. This “business” (kār o bār) indirectly benefits the spiritual masters (store owners and cotton producers). It is clear here that the aim of the servants of Ghāzī Miyāñ and the administration of the Shahbāz shrine is the same as that of the merchant: to earn money without any further special consideration for the nature of the good and its symbolic charge and without a personal relationship governing the transfer. In trying to find out more about this practice, I was confronted, first, with the silence of the servants and shopkeepers who categorically denied that this was possible. Some of them acknowledged that it might be done in neighboring stores or other shrines, but assured me it certainly did not in their own. I was also faced by the ignorance of the visitors who although unaware of the practice, did not hesitate to explain it as the “greed” (lālac, hirs) of the servants, who were accused of thinking only of money (especially since in fact they were far from wealthy). This accusation of dishonesty on the part of the servants is quite classic in Islamic literature, both at the scholarly level (where the cult of the saints is considered an innovation frowned upon by orthodox thinkers) and at the popular level (where their rapacity is derided). In any case, it is clear that no one wants to boast about this business.
- 34 It would perhaps be more accurate to speak here of the ideal-typical path of a category of objects (...)
50Through the study of these transfers, we can see that the “biography” (Kopytoff 1986)34 of each of these cloths is different. While the personal cover is a “singular thing,” to use Igor Kopytoff’s vocabulary, whose permanent status is to be “de-commoditized” and excluded from exchange, the ceremonial cover and the sheet undergo the following transformations. The sheet and the ceremonial cover are both initially “commodities,” i.e., “ordinary goods,” which are “de-commoditized” by the ritual of the visit by which the first becomes a solicitation gift (first transfer) and the second a non-commercial, yet required, payment (3rd transfer). This change in status “confines” the ceremonial cover to a “very limited sphere of exchange” in which it is now a “prestige good” that the shrine offers to those it wishes to honor or who honor it. As for the sheet, it is “de-commoditized” and “re-commoditized” several times in the course of its life; it is not restricted to a single sphere of exchange; it never becomes as prestigious a good as the ceremonial cover, but it can be, like the ceremonial cover, a relic of contact.
Fig. 1: Circulati...
Fig. 1: Circulation of Cloths
Credit: Delphine Ortis
51These three cloths thus follow three distinct biographies or ideal-typical paths. We can now ask ourselves if the modalities of their circulation also refer to different natures. Godelier’s theory of “object-substitutes of men and gods” (1996: 151-236) may be of interest here to determine whether there is a link between the types of transfer and the nature of these fabrics.
52M. Godelier starts from the general idea that “the force of the objects is to materialize the invisible, to represent the unrepresentable” (1996: 152); this force of representation is variable and distinguishes three categories of object. The first, the “sacred object,” best fulfills this function of representation, because it is the archetype of other objects and possesses a power of life and death over people and things. It is characterized by its absence of aesthetics, its secret character, its inalienability. Although it in itself cannot be given, its benefits are distributed. The second, “the object of value or precious object,” is the substitute of the first, it allows the exchange or the transmission of what the sacred object contains, without having to separate from it. It is aesthetically elaborate, testifies to its own secret powers and its ownership is inalienable, although its right of use can be transferred. The third, the “money-object,” is a precious object that has slipped into market relations and has become the exchange value of other goods. Being alienable, it can be exchanged for several categories of goods. Between these three types of objects and our three cloths, we can establish correspondences and, in particular, the idea of a gradation in value of objects, according to the bonds which they weave with the “unrepresentable” which enable them (or not) to be transferable or to circulate.
53Many of the characteristics of the personal cover make it a “sacred object”: its rarity, its secret nature, and its lack of aesthetic appeal (compared to the other two fabrics). Absolutely absent from the market sphere, it does not circulate and remains the saint’s inalienable property for the duration of its existence. Its “sacredness” and its inestimable value (it has no price on the market because it is never traded) are linked to the relationship it has with the substitute for the body of the saint. In direct contact with his tomb, it concentrates in itself the maximum of thaumaturgical power, its “hyperbolic value makes it—not by default, but by excess—unfit for market circulation” (Breton 2002: 21). It provides for the circulation of the power of the saint through the intermediary of other cloths (the ceremonial cover and the sheet), which come to (re)cover it for a period of varying length. It is the source of the exchange value of its substitutes and, in particular, of the ceremonial cover.
54The characteristics that distinguish the ceremonial cover from the personal cover are the same as for the “sacred object” and the “valuable object.” The ceremonial cover is aesthetically attractive, splendid, and auspicious. It circulates in a one-way direction from the commercial sphere, where it can be bought at a relatively high economic cost, to the non-commercial sphere, where it circulates again although in a limited circle, since, as we have seen, it is distributed mainly to those with a social status comparable to the saints, by caste (the Sayyed) or by political-economic role (the V.V.I.P.). Charged with the saint’s powers by its contact with the unmovable personal cover, it enables the circulation of said power. Together, the two covers allow the power of the saints to be “kept by giving” or “given by keeping” (
55Weiner 1988
56Of the three fabrics, the cloth has the most complex biography because of its repeated (potential) passages between the commercial sphere, where it is a plentiful commodity at a modest price, and the non-commercial sphere, in which it is a gift, a ritual object, a means of exchange or representative of wealth. However, what is most striking about the nature of this cloth is that at a certain point in its biography it resembles money although not in the modern sense of the term, because the cloth does not fulfil any of the fundamental economic functions: means of payment, expression of prices and value, means of reserve. In effect, it is operative only within the “market of sanctity” to buy miracles or exchange courtesies. However, it does allow certain actors in the cult of the saints (administration of shrines, servants, spiritual masters) who are outside the commercial sphere by their function, to “make money,” to capitalize by the speculative resale of this thing that they do not produce, and which does not belong to them. Its wide circulation shows that its representative value is relatively weak: its increasingly standardized appearance with the development of religious tourism (which has affected the cult of the saints since the 1980s) has now left it a standardized object with little meaning in the market of sanctity and a contact relic less powerful than the ceremonial cover due to its brief passage on the tomb. Having a minimal association with the saint and holding little of his power, the cloth is easily convertible into a contact relic, a tribute, a gift, and a currency.
57The mirroring of our three fabrics with M. Godelier’s three “substitute objects” confirms the link between the nature of these fabrics and their mode of circulation. Their concrete modalities are essential to distinguishing between them. It also confirms an inverse link between the mode of circulation and the “strength” of the objects to “represent the unrepresentable,” showing that the more (or less) the fabric is impregnated with the power of the saint the less (or more) it circulates. In the sanctuaries, therefore, the “keeping by giving” or “giving by keeping” principle also applies.
58I undertook this study of the circulation of the saints’ cloths in order to understand why the resale of the sheets, that I discovered by chance, was both possible and hidden. At the end of this exploration of the ways in which these cloths circulate, the types of transfers that underpin that circulation and their nature, has the mystery been cleared up? Perhaps not, but it has at least revealed the importance of this offering in the functioning of the sanctuaries.
59The ethnographic description of the trajectories of the cloths has effectively highlighted their fundamental role: in the relationship between the visitor and the saint during the propitiatory visit, in the fabrication of the tomb, and in the relations of the shrine to local society. As the study of the various transfers has revealed, the propitiatory visit involves a type of “compound transfer,” a hybrid form in which the ingredients of gift and exchange are mixed governed by obligations of a judicial nature defined by the saint, and which apply to his visitors. This hybrid form shows that the saint is as much an actor in the relationship as his devotees. The subsequent uses made of these cloths by the sanctuaries reveal their essential function in the making of the tomb into a “substitute object” for the saint. The cloths are also essential in the diffusion of the saint’s power as following their more or less long time on the tomb they become contact relics and “ritual objects.” The study of these uses has revealed a third category: the personal cover of the saint which, unlike the other two, is absent from the market and from the transfers between visitors and saint and between shrine and community. Faced with the distinct biographies of these three cloths, I thought it would be useful to define the nature of each one in parallel with M. Godelier’s three “object-substitutes of men and gods.” This detour allowed us to confirm that their capacity to circulate (in a more or less extended circle) or not, is an important element of their nature and that it is linked to their faculty to represent and diffuse the power of the saint.
60Finally, ethnographic description has brought to light the cloths’ significance in the relationship of the shrine to its locality. By distributing sheets and/or ceremonial covers in a discriminating manner, with or without ceremony, according to the principle of gift or exchange, the shrine actualizes the social relationships at work in the locality, thereby reaffirming its hierarchical principles. Thus in Sehwan, where society is based on the master-disciple relationship, the ceremonial cloth is given primarily to the spiritual masters (heirs of Shahbāz) and to the Sayyed who have a social status comparable to that saint by caste; in Bahraich, where society is based on the principle of ritual division of labor (the jajmānī system), the cloth is given to the ritual specialists of the great festivals of Ghāzī Miyāñ and servants dispose of it freely. What is (re)affirmed here is the right that the shrines’ former owners retain over their wealth, symbolic (the cloths as such) and monetary (the sale of the sheets), despite the transformation of the legal status of the shrines and their nationalization (for Pakistan). In both cases, in the end, ceremonial covers or sheets are offered to V.V.I.P.s, i.e., to individuals with a social status comparable to the saints, this time because of their combined political-economic status. This (re)affirms the circularity of the relationship between the saints and the people of power, where patronage and devotion are mixed and intertwined. In short, as this double ethnography shows, the multiple transfers of the cloths do not solely benefit the saints but transcend the legal framework defined by the administration of a waqf to enrich others either financially or symbolically. This wide circulation corresponds perfectly with the image of the generous saint, whose beneficence should affect as many people as possible.
- 35 Sadaqāt is recommended by the Qur’an, Sura LXIV, verse 15-18.
- 36 Hindus actively participate in the cults of the two saints studied here.
- 37 Other exemplary cases of circulation between spheres and of change in the nature of transfers which (...)
61The generosity of the saints is not in contradiction with Muslim morality but quite the contrary since it places great value on “charity” (khairīyat), as evidenced by “almsgiving” zakāt (the third pillar of Islam) and sadaqāt (“non-compulsory charity”).35Shrines are institutions of charity, where one gives to the saint for the poor, in a society where giving to the poor is tantamount to giving to God (the gods). Muslims and Hindus36 share the same idea on this subject: wealth and happiness imply not keeping but distributing, because the thing given produces a reward in this life and in the afterlife (or the next life). Wealth is thus made to be given away, for “the gift that is given enriches with the same products both the giver and the receiver” (Mauss 1993: 244). If the resale of sheets allows sanctuaries to increase their revenues in order to redistribute the gains to those who need them (in the form of employment and wages, aid for the poor, and taxes for the state),37 then why is it a taboo subject? Is it that, as the atmosphere of silence and secrecy surrounding this resale suggests and which contrasts with the staging when they are offered, the sheets are not actually supposed to leave the non-commercial circuit after having been in contact with the saint’s tomb? According to what morality?
62In the absence of information on how the servants justify their act or arrangements for it, one can only assume that their discomfort stems from the fact that this cloth business does not primarily benefit the needy or poor, as Muslim morality dictates. Instead, the business benefits those who are already living off the blessings of the saints and those, already rich and powerful, who, through this circulation, associate themselves with the saints to conjointly increase their renown. However, one can also understand this discrepancy between the ideal (according to which the three types of cloths are “put to cool” at the end of their biography) and the practice (which involves a re-marketing of the cloths) given the recent economic changes in Indo-Pakistani society (increase in the standard of living, monetarization of exchanges) and the development and massification of religious tourism which have collectively led to an increasing number of visitors and of offerings, resulting in an excess of cloths for the sanctuaries.