Book Description

Till he was 28 years old, no child of my father had lived, and he was continually praying for the survival of a son to dervishes and recluses, by whom spiritual approach to the throne of Allah is obtained. As the great master, K͟hwāja Muʿīnu-d-dīn Chis͟htī, was the fountain-head of most of the saints of India, he considered that in order to obtain this object he should have recourse to his blessed threshold, and resolved within himself that if Almighty God should bestow a son on him he would, by way of complete humility, go on foot from Agra to his blessed mausoleum, a distance of 140 kos. In A.H. 977, on Wednesday, 17th Rabīʿu-l-awwal (August 31st, 1569), when seven g͟harī of the aforesaid day had passed, when Libra (Mīzān) had risen to the 24th degree, God Almighty brought me into existence from the hiding-place of nothingness. At the time when my venerated father was on the outlook for a son, a dervish of the name of S͟haik͟h Salīm, a man of ecstatic condition, who had traversed many of the stages of life, had his abode on a hill near Sīkrī, one of the villages of Agra, and the people of that neighbourhood had complete trust in him. As my father was very submissive to dervishes, he also visited him. One day, when waiting on him and in a state of distraction, he asked him how many sons he should have. The S͟haik͟h replied, “The Giver who gives without being asked will bestow three sons on you.” My father said, “I have made a vow that, casting my first son on the skirt of your favour, I will make your friendship and kindness his protector and preserver.” The S͟haik͟h accepted this idea, and said, “I congratulate you, and I will give him my own name.” When my mother came near the time of her delivery, he (Akbar) sent her to the S͟haik͟h’s house that I might be born there. After my birth they gave me the name of Sultan Salīm, but I never heard my father, whether in his cups or in his sober moments, call me Muḥammad Salīm or Sultan Salīm, but always S͟haik͟hū Bābā. My revered father, considering the village of Sīkrī, which was the place of my birth, lucky for him, made it his capital. In the course of fourteen or fifteen years that hill, full of wild beasts, became a city containing all kinds of gardens and buildings, and lofty, elegant edifices and pleasant places, attractive to the heart. After the conquest of Gujarāt this village was named Fatḥpūr. When I became king it occurred to me to change my name, because this resembled that of the Emperor of Rūm. An inspiration from the hidden world brought it into my mind that, inasmuch as the business of kings is the controlling of the world, I should give myself the name of Jahāngīr (World-seizer) and make my title of honour (laqab) Nūru-d-dīn, inasmuch as my sitting on the throne coincided with the rising and shining on the earth of the great light (the Sun). I had also heard, in the days when I was a prince, from Indian sages, that after the expiration of the reign and life of King Jalālu-d-dīn Akbar one named Nūru-d-dīn would be administrator of the affairs of the State. Therefore I gave myself the name and appellation of Nūru-d-dīn Jahāngīr Pāds͟hāh. As this great event took place in Agra, it is necessary that some account of that city should be given.