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Abu Muin Nasir-i Khusraw, ranked among the half dozen greatest poets of Persia, was born in Qubadian, a small town in the region of Marv, in 394 A.H./1004 A.D. Little is known of his childhood and early years except for a few references in his book of poetry, the Diwan, and his philosophic works. Our information concerning his life is largely derived from his travel boo, which he composed after his seven year journey through the Islamic world as far as Egypt and back again to his native land.

The age in which Nasir lived was one of commotion and turmoil. On the one hand the province of Khorasan, his native land, was a battlefield for two rival Turkic tribes, the Ghaznavids and Seljuks; Nasir was 35 years old when the Ghaznavids were dealt with a fatal blow by the Seljuks, who came to power under Alp-Arsalan (429/1038). On the other hand, the land was rife with religious controversies. There was a clandestine struggle between the Hanafites and Shafiites (two schools of Sunni Islam), with occasional skirmishes which ended in the triump of the former over the latter. More significantly for our story: Khorasan had become a scene of contention between two rival caliphates, each carrying out its own religious propaganda, the Abbasid and Fatimid.

The Turkish dynasties ruling Persia paid allegiance to the Abbasid caliphs at Baghdad, and were in turn supported by them. The Fatimids exercised a more hidden influence, never gaining significant territory in the Eastern lands of Islam, but claiming many adherents.

The Fatimids, who had established a vast domain in Egypt, North Africa, Syria and Palestine, had come to power in 297/909 under Ubaydallah al-Mahdi, who claimed descent from the Prophet of Islam through his daughter Fatimah, the early Shiite Imams and Ismail, the son of the sixth Imam Jafar al-Sadiq; hence they were also called Ismailis. The Fatimids boasted a highly efficient and well-organised administration and sent missionaries to the remotest regions of the Islamic world. Although for the most part their converts were scattered throughout hostile populations, they were in some cases able to convert rulers, as in the case of Nuh ibn Nasr the Samanid. Their propaganda was particularly effective in Khorasan. Avicenna tells us that his father was converted to Ismailism, and that regular meetings were held in his house, though Avicenna did not respond to their call.

The more or less clandestine spread of Ismailism caused great hostility between the two caliphates; the Abbasids not without reason, looked on the missionaries as political agents. Both the Ghaznavids and Seljuks carried out a relentless persecution; during the reign of Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna (388/998) thousands of Ismailis were massacred in his conquest of Rayy, always a Shiite stronghold. Sultan Mahmud, in his letter to the Abbasid Caliph al-Qadir, reported ..... For the sake of the Abbasids I have turned my finger throughout the world searching for Qaramites, and wherever they are found, once they are proven to be so, they are sent to the gallows at once. (The Qaramites were an earlier and extremely violent sect of Ismailis, who caused difficulties even to the Fatimids; nevertheless, enemies of Ismailism tended to pump them all together under this name, or to call them batinis [Esoterists] or mulhids [heretics].) In an age of political and religious strife no doubt a certain number of philosophers and men of noble spirit wee charged with intellectual treason and put to death or tortured; Nasirs bitter complaints about the ill quality of the age should be read in this grim light.

There seems little doubt that Nasir, before his seven year journey (i.e. up to the year 437), was a court poet. We surmise that most of his poems were eulogies of kings or other powerful people, or celebrations of wine, women and other pleasures. After his conversion to Ismailism, he destroyed all his earlier work. In his travel book, he explicitly states that he seen the courts of sultans and kings of Persia . . . such as Mahmud of Ghazna and his son Masud. Before setting out for his journey, he had served as an official in the administration, busy with courtly affairs, and had gained a certain reputation amongst his peers.

Several harshly satirical poems in the Diwan seem to deal with this period. One, which we have call The Aging Rake, may be addressed to a former colleague of Nasirs; some scholars have even believed he is describing himself. In any case this poem and others like it have the ring of authenticity; there is no doubt that Nasir knew the world of courtier quite intimately.

Unlike many of contemporary poets however, Nasir was also a master of the sciences of his time. As the late S.H Taqizadeh remarked in the introduction to his first edition of the Diwan, Nasir was well-versed in the traditional and intellectual sciences, and particularly in Greek sources such as the Almagest of Ptolemy and the Element of Euclid; he knew medicine, arithmetic, astronomy, philosophy, theology and theosophy. As we shall see, he has also made a study of other religions, and even had a first-hand knowledge of some of them.

But one night in his forty-second year, Nasir had a dream which changed his life. .... I used to drink wine without ease (the Prophet, upon whom be peace, said, ATell the truth, even if it reflects against you!@); one night I had a dream in which someone asked me, AHow long will you desire to drink of a wine which ruins human reason? It were better for you to be sober.@ I answered him, AWise men can do nothing else, for wine diminishes the grief and sorrow of the world.@ He replied, AThere is no peace of mind in senselessness and unconsciousness. One cannot be called wise who leads people to unconsciousness; one must go after that which increases wisdom and sobriety@. I asked, AWhere shall I look for it?@ He answered me, AHe who seeks, shall find.@ Then he pointed in the direction of Mecca, and said nothing more.

When I woke from sleep, I remembered everything perfectly. The experience had a deep effect on me, and I told myself, AI have awakened from last nights sleep; now I should wake fromthe slumber of forty years.: I reflected that if I did not change my ways I should not attain salvation ... I washed my head and body, went to the Friday Mosque and prayed and asked for Gods aid, Blessed is His Name for doing what is hidden; and blessed is it to abstain from what is forbidden, as God, the Judge, the Almighty, has commanded us.

Who addressed him in the dream? Possible it was the Prophet himself, or one of the Imams, who are for the Shiites the embodiment of the sacred and of spiritual authority. In any case, Nasir set out at once on a long journey which took him as far west as Egypt, which was the capital of the Fatimids and one of the greatest centres of learning and culture the Islamic world has ever known.

There are some scholars, including W. Ivanow, who maintain that Nasir was an Ismaili before his departure to the western lands of Islam; they base this opinion on such assumptions as that Shiism was widely spread in Khorasan and Central Asia; and that Nasir did not accompany the regular pilgrims caravan, as was the custom; or that he could not have sustained himself on the journey had he not been supported by Ismailis cells along the way. Moreover, they take the story of the dream to represent an actual conversion to Ismailism. But none of these arguments seem particularly convincing, especially in the light of Nasirs own account of his spiritual journey.

This is to be found in a famous poem in the Diwan, known as the Confessional Ode (qasidah iitirafiyyah), which is quite evidently an allegorised version of his conversion experience, from his dream (clearly referred to at the beginning of the poem) to his experiences in Cairo. The qasidah is the longest in the Diwan (over 130 lines); we shall translate here only those sections which help us attain a clear picture of his story.

O widely read, O globally travelled one,

(still earth-bound, still caught beneath the sky),

what value would the spheres yet hold for you

were you to catch a glimpse of hidden knowledge?

Will your flesh luxuriate forever

in the boons and blessings of the world? Why not

for a little while enjoy as well the fruits

of knowledge with the tongue of the Spirit?

The dreamers banquets cannot profit him;

only the waking know the taste of gain

and loss. What does the dreamer know of stars

and turquoise dome, or things the Almighty brings

to pass upon his dusty sphere?

. . . Wake up

from this charming vision, you who have slept and dreamt

for forty years, and see that off all the friends

of your youth not one remains. No one is left

to share your drowse and super but the beasts . . .

and that which donkeys eat is not a blessing

any more than that which Caesar conquers

is a kingdom!

. . . Reader if you miss the Path

I would not be surprised, for I, like you,

languished in perplexity for years.

Three hundred ninety four of them had passed

since the Migration, when my mother

dropped me in the dust, a voiceless creature

like a weed which thrives on soil and rain.

From this vegetative state I reached

that of the beasts, and floundered like a bird

whose wings are clipped, till in the Fourth Age

I gained the stature of a man and left

a soul of reason worm its way into

my gloomy body. When the clock of years

had turned some forty-two rounds, my conscious self

began to seek our wisdom. From the mouths

of sages or the pages of ancient books

I heard of the Cosmos, of the whirl of Time

and the Three Kingdoms; but I found myself

superior to all around me, and

among all creatures (so I mused) there must

be one superior to others, like

the falcon amongst all birds, a camel amongst

all beasts of burden, the palm amongst the trees,

the Quran amongst all books, the Kaaba amongst

all houses, heart in the body, sun among stars.

I wondered, and my soul was filled with grief,

my meditations blasted with fear of all

the objects of thought.

From every School I searched:

from Shafiite, Malikite, Hanafite, sought a sign

of guidance, of the Chosen One of God,

the Almighty, the Guide; and each one pointed me

a different way, one to China, one

to Africa. When I asked for a reason, or

for corroboration from the Quran, they recoiled

in helplessness, like blind men, like deaf men.

Then one day, a I read in the Book the Verse

of the Oath, in which God proclaims His Hand

is above all hands, and pondered on that group

who swore allegiance beneath the Tree (like Jafar,

Miqdad, Salman, Budhar) I asked myself

How is it now with that Tree and with that Hand?

Where shall I see that Hand, that group, that Oath?

I asked, but was rebuffed. They are no more

-so I was told- The Tree, the Hand are gone,

the Assembly dispersed, the Hand concealed and veiled

in secrecy. Those men were the Companions,

favoured by that allegiance and chosen to be

with the Prophet in Paradise.

But I said to myself

In the Book it is clear that Ahmad is the Messenger

of Good News, and the Warner, luminous as light.

If the unbelievers wished to blow it out

God would light it again in spite of them.

How is it today that no one is left

of that Community? Surely the word

of the Universal Judge cannot be false!

Whose hand should we grasp, where should we take an oath

that even we men of latter times might enjoy

the justice of heaven? Why should it be our fault

not to be born in that era? Why should we

be deprived of the Prophet, afflicted and distressed?

My face grew pale as a yellow blossom in

the pain of ignorance. I bowed in the wind

of doubt like an aging cypress. The learned man

is like a pomander, his knowledge a halo of musk;

or like a mountain concealing its vein of gold;

but ore without gold, perfume without aroma

are worth no more than dust.

. . . Then I arose

and set out on my way, remembering

neither my home nor past nor garden of roses.

From Persian, Arab, Hindu, Turk and Jew,

from the folk of Sind, from the Romans, from everyone

I met the philosopher, Manichee, Sabaean, atheist,

I asked, I questioned, I pestered. Many a night

I made a stone my pillow, the clouds my tent.

I sank as low as a fish, I ascended as high

as the stars above the hills; now in a land

where water was frozen as marble, now in a land

where the very dust was hot as a spark, I roamed.

Now by the sea, now on the high plateau

or trackless waste, across mountains, sand and streams,

up and down the precipices, coil of rope

round my shoulder like a camel driver, pack

on my back like a mule, inquiring I went my way,

searching from city to city, shore to shore.

. . . . The one day I reached those city gates

where angels are servants, where planets and stars are slaves,

a garden of roses and pines girded round with walls

of emerald and jasper trees, set

in a desert of gold-embroidered silk, its springs

sweet as honey, the river of paradise:

a city which only Virtue can aspire

to reach, a city whose cypresses are like

the blades of Intellect, a cit whose sages

wear brocaded robes woven of silk . . .

And here, before these gates, my Reason spoke:

Here, within these walls, find what you seek

and do not leave without it. So I approached

the Guardian of the Gate, and told him of

my search. Rejoice he answered. Your mine

has produced a jewel, for beneath this land of Truth

there flows a crystal ocean of precious pearls

and pure clear water. This is the lofty sphere

of exalted stars; aye, it is paradise

itself, the Abode of Houris. I heard these words

freighted with meaning, sweet as honey, and felt

myself on the threshold of heaven. I told him, My soul

is weak, though my body may seem strong to you.

I am in pain, but that is nothing. I refuse

a medicine. I cannot understand,

I reject all that is beyond the law.

I am a doctor, he answered. Speak to me

and tell me all that ails you, every detail.

[Here Nasir burdens the gate-keeper with a hundred questions about the Origin and End of the Universe, the mystery of pre-destination, the purpose of creation, and Gods reason for sending Messengers to man. He asks a minute detail abstruse questions of a philosophical and theological nature. Then . . . ]

That sage set his hand upon his heart

(a hundred blessings be on that hand and breast!)

And said, I offer you the remedy

of proof and demonstration; but if you

accept, I shall place a seal upon your lips

which must never be broken. I gave my consent and he

affixed the seal. Drop by drop and day

by day he fed me the healing potion, till

my ailment disappeared, my tongue became

imbued with eloquent speech; my face, which had

been pale as saffron now grew rosy with joy;

I who had been a stone was now a ruby;

I had been dust - now I was ambergris.

He put my hand into the Prophets hand,

I spoke the Oath beneath that exalted Tree

so heavy with fruit, so sweet with cooling shade.

Have you ever heard of a sea which flows from fire?

Have you ever seen a fox become a lion?

The sun can transmute a pebble, which even the hand

of Nature can never change, into a gem.

I am that precious stone, my Sun is he

by whose rays this tenebrous world is filled with light.

In jealousy I cannot speak his name

in this poem, but can only say that for him

Plato himself would become a slave. He

is the teacher, hearer of souls, favoured of God,

image of wisdom, fountain of knowledge and Truth.

Blessed the ship with him for its anchor, blessed

the city whose sacred gate he ever guards!

O Countenance of Knowledge, Virtues Form,

Heart of Wisdom, Goal of Humankind,

O Pride of Pride; I stood before thee, pale

and skeletal, clad in a woolen cloak,

and kissed thine hand as if it were the grave

of the Prophet or Black Stone of the Kaaba.

Six years I served thee; and now, wherever I am

so long as I live Ill use my pen and ink,

my inkwell and my paper . . . in praise of thee!

The story of the oath of allegiance (bayah) of the Holy Prophet and his Companions plays a very significant role in the esoteric teachings of Islam. In Sufism, for example, the allegiance paid to the spiritual master and related to the central act of initiation, is looked upon as an echo or prolongation of that original allegiance.

Nasir mentions - though not explicitly - the person who introduced him to the mysteries of religion. He describes him as the guardian of a city. In another poem, he gives more details about this spiritual guide:

Why so silent, eloquent one? Why do you not

string pearls and corals upon the necklace of verse?

Do not content yourself to be like the mob;

take your place of pride amongst your equals,

for thanks to the spiritual guidance of Khwajah Muayyad

God has opened Wisdoms gate for you.

He who sees the Khwajah on assembly day,

sees Intellect itself in the midst of turmoil.

He made my dark night bright day

with proofs luminous as the sun.

Khawajah Muayyad was the nickname of Hibat-Allah Musa ibn Dawud Shirazi, one of the greatest divines of Ismailism. Fortunately we have detailed knowledge of his life through an autobiography called Sirat al-muayyadiyyah, published in Egypt in 1949.

According to his book, Muayyad was the Hujjat (Proof, a term to be explained later) of Ismailism in the province of Fars in southern Persia, and later occupied the highest rank of Dai al-duat in the spiritual hierarchy of the Fatimid administration. While in Fars, he succeeded in converting many people to Ismailsm, including the local ruler. This success brought him to the attention of the Abbasids, who eventually managed to have him banished back to Egypt, where he arrived in almost the same time as Nasir. The Caliph al-Mustansir showed enough confidence in Muayyad to send him on a military expedition to Syria, which ended with the Fatimid conquest of Baghdad itself. Al-Mustansir then made him the head of all Ismaili religious missionary work (Dai al-duat).

It is natural that two Persians, both scholars and thinkers of the first rank, both strangers in a foreign land, should meet. Nasir must have impressed the Khawjah with the high quality of his verse, and his spiritual sincerity. There are stories, perhaps unauthentic, relating how Muayyad introduced Nasir to the Caliph himself.

Al-Mustansir, the eigth Fatimid Caliph, ruled from 427/1035 to 487/1094. This long reign is considered the Golden Age of the Fatimd empire. The number eight plays a significant role in Ismaili cosmology and starts a new cycle in the numerical series (the fundamental unit being the set 1-7); symbolically al_Mustansirs ascension is considered the starting-point of a new era. It was during this period that Ismaili missionary work reached its peak of effectiveness and efficiency. Interestingly, it was about this same time that the famous Hasan-i Sabbah came to Cairo to be trained as a missionary. He returned to Persia where some time later he was to found the Nizari branch of Ismailism, popularly (and incorrectly) called the Assassins.

After six years in Cairo, Nasir was appointed Hujjat of Khorasan by al-Mustansir. Hujjat, or Proof, was not merely a honorific title (as Ivanow has claimed) but a strict term in the hierarchy in the Ismaili spirituality. The Fatimids divided the entire realm of Islam into twelve provinces or islands, and sent one very distinguished scholar who was a Proof to each of these provinces as a spiritual guide. Khorasan, in the north east of Iran, was on the one hand a focal point of Ismaili propaganda and on the other hand, from the early days of Islam, one of the great centres of culture and learning.

After his return to Persia, in 1052, Nasir plunged into his missionary work in a province which was eventually hostile to Ismailism. Contemporary works refer to his journey to Mazandaran in norther Iran, a stronghold of Shiism. He finally settled in Balkh, but his teaching was not well received. His opponents incited a mob to sack his house, and even attempted to assassinate him. Finding his native province so uncomfortable, he fled to the remote valley of Yamgan (which he was to make famous in his poems), possibly because it was ruled by the Emir of Badakhshan, a former associate. Hence-forward, he lived an extremely secluded life and in fact called himslef the prisoner of Yamagan. He spent the rest of his life in this bleak valley. His loneliness, and the hostile attitude of his countrymen, made a deep impression on him, and help to explain his often negative and even gloomy attitude.

The year of his death is not certain, but probably took place some time between 465/1072 and 471/1078. His tomb in Yamagan is still a popular place of pilgrimage, and in fact certain histories speak of a religious order, the Nasiriyyah, which viewed him as the their patron saint. Over the years, Nasir acquired the reputation of a miracle worker and even magician, and marvellous stories about him were collected into several pseudo-autobiographies.