While reading Days in the Life of a Sufi: 101 Enchanting Stories of Wisdom by Raziuddin Aquil, I found myself unexpectedly revisiting an old academic haunt, a master’s assignment I had once written in response to the question: How far did Sufism affect the socio-economic and political processes of medieval India? The book, with its thoughtful prologue and epilogue and its light yet anchored narrative tone, was a rare joy for an academic like me. It reminded me that there is a way to write history that is both serious and seductive. More such books should exist, ones that tell stories without diluting historical complexity, ones that let the saints and seekers of the past speak in their many voices.

But returning to that old essay, I was surprised by how much of that structured, footnoted argument still felt alive. The mystics I had once encountered in my coursework such as Khwaja Muinuddin Chishti, Shaikh Nizamuddin Awliya, Shaikh Bahauddin Zakariyya were also characters in Aquil’s stories. And so this post is part reflection, part return: a meditation on how Sufism shaped not just belief, but also land, livelihood, language, and legitimacy in medieval India.

Mysticism as social practice

Sufism is the commonly accepted name for Islamic mysticism, but understanding it requires us to first consider mysticism itself. The word ‘mystic’ shares its roots with the Greek myein meaning ‘to close the eyes’ suggesting an inward gaze, a knowledge that defies intellect. Annemarie Schimmel, writing on Islamic mysticism, notes that the ultimate goal of the mystical path is unio mystica, that is, a loving union or visio beatific, that is, beatific vision of the Divine that lifts the veil of ignorance (Schimmel 1975).

Even though the approaches towards the understanding of Sufism are manifold it is more important to understand what the Sufis themselves say about the origin of the name tasawwuf, which we translate as Sufism. Some assert that a Sufi is so called because he wears a coarse woolen garment called jama-i suf. While this is a more generally accepted view, others say that a Sufi is called so because he is in the first rank (saff-i awwal) or because the Sufis claim to belong to the ashab-i Suffa (the people of the Bench who gathered around the Prophet’s mosque) or the name was derived from safa meaning purity.

But for all its esoteric aims, Sufism in India played a remarkably grounded, practical role. By the 11th century, Sufi teachings had already been introduced to the subcontinent. The real transformation occurred during the 12th and 13th centuries, when the mystics began organising themselves into silsilas (spiritual orders), each tracing its spiritual genealogy back to a founding sheikh. The Chishti and Suhrawardi orders became especially influential following the establishment of the Delhi Sultanate.

The Chishti order was brought to India by Khwaja Muinuddin Chishti, who set up a centre in Ajmer even before the Turkish conquest. Under the guidance of successors like Shaikh Qutbuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki, Shaikh Fariduddin Ganj-i Shakar, and Shaikh Nizamuddin Awliya, the Chishti silsila flourished across North India. The Suhrawardi order, meanwhile, found its foothold in Multan and Sindh, thanks to Shaikh Bahauddin Zakariyya.

While historians have long studied the theological underpinnings of these orders, what interested me most, then and now, was how these mystical networks shaped social realities. Shahbuddin Iraqi tells us that from the outset, Muslim mystics sought to transcend distinctions of class, religion, and race. They embraced wahdat-i adyan (unity of religions) and khidmat-i khalq (service to humanity), arguing that the highest form of taʿat (religious duty) was to feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and aid the distressed (Iraqi 2009). Their khanqahs (hospices) functioned as sites of cultural synthesis and compassion, spaces where spiritual training went hand in hand with social care.

Mysticism, in other words, had its feet firmly planted on the ground.

Shrines and socio-economic structures

This groundedness was especially visible in Sindh, where the writings of Sarah F. D. Ansari offer a compelling account of how Sufi saints became mediators in highly fragile, conflict-ridden agrarian societies (Ansari 1992). Here, the socio-economic impact of Sufism was profound.

The pastoral-nomadic societies of Sindh were frequently battered by the erratic flooding of the Indus. Agriculture was risky, land scarce, and conflict over resources frequent. In this volatile context, the pirs or Sufi sheikhs played a stabilising role. As tribes settled on irrigated land, it was often the pirs who mediated disputes, negotiated rights over water, and facilitated land access. Over time, spiritual authority conferred material power. Disciples (murids) found safety in affiliating with strong spiritual lineages, and even tribal chiefs sought the blessings of Sufi saints to secure their legitimacy.

The institutionalisation of Sufism was visible not just in the expansion of khanqahs but in the evolution of dargahs, saints’ shrines that became centres of both religious and economic life. Pilgrimages to shrines on saints’ death anniversaries (ʿurs) turned into massive melas (fairs), attracting thousands. These events were not just spiritual gatherings, they were marketplaces. As Ansari notes:

Shrines became arenas of economic activity and huge quantities of commercial business were transacted at their fairs in the shape of luxury goods and everyday local products including gold and silver ornaments, brassware, cloths, silk and embroidery, oil, ghee, breads, meats and leather articles ... The economic importance of these events can be judged by the number of people which attended them. The urs of Lal Shahbaz Qalandar at Sehwan regularly attracted over 30,000 people while the mela at Pir Pithoro ... was similarly attended by thousands of visitors (Ansari 1992).

Further, shrines like those at Tatta, Nasarpur, and Sehwan were often located at key riverine and trade points, where they helped regulate commerce. In time, pirs were also granted agricultural land, which they cultivated using local labour (like rice cultivation in Bengal and wheat cultivation in Punjab), thus tying mysticism to production and redistribution.

In these moments, Sufism looked less like mysticism and more like a framework for organising the world.

Spiritual legitimacy and political power

But the influence of Sufism was not limited to society and economy. It extended deeply into the political realm. The Sufi concept of wilayat, meaning spiritual dominion over a territory, often placed saints in a position of potential conflict with rulers. The saints were seen as protectors, even makers and unmakers, of dynasties.

Simon Digby points to the persistent belief that rulers derived legitimacy from saints (Digby 2010). For instance, Sultan Alauddin Khalji’s prosperity was attributed to the blessings of Nizamuddin Awliya. His reign, like others before and after, was interpreted not just through political strategy but through the presence (or absence) of spiritual protection. It is also claimed that Delhi’s fortunes declined after the saint’s death.

This belief persisted well into the Mughal period. Babur visited the shrine of Bakhtiyar Kaki on arriving in Delhi. Akbar tied his imperial fortunes to the Chishti saints of Ajmer and Fatehpur Sikri so much so that he named his son Salim (later Jahangir) after Shaikh Salim Chishti. He also made multiple pilgrimages to Muinuddin Chishti’s dargah after military victories. Shah Jahan’s daughter even penned a biography of the saint. The last Mughal emperor, Bahadur Shah Zafar, had his mansion constructed beside the shrine of Bakhtiyar Kaki, the very site where Babur had prayed more than three centuries earlier.

These were not just gestures of piety. They were strategies of statecraft. Sufism offered rulers a symbolic vocabulary to speak to their subjects, not just as kings, but as stewards of spiritual order.

Between hagiography and history

What Aquil’s book does so gently is to bring these intersections alive through narrative. Each story in Days in the Life of a Sufi is a reminder that these saints were not abstract ideals but people living in complicated worlds. They dealt with famine, suspicion, political rivalry, illness, and heartbreak. Aquil’s writing doesn’t strip away the miracles or the wonder, but it also doesn’t shy away from their embeddedness in local economies, clan structures, and political landscapes.

That is what makes it such an engaging read not just for the curious layperson, but for someone like me, who has spent years parsing the footnotes of Digby, Ansari, Schimmel, and so on. The stories invite us to zoom in, even as the structures require us to zoom out.

Why this history still matters

Sufism’s legacy, especially in South Asia, has always been layered. It’s a story of faith, yes, but also one of land, law, labour, and legitimacy. It gave rise to new languages (Urdu, for instance, found early expression in Sufi records), new ceremonies (such as dastarbandi: where the pir tied the turban on the heads of the village chiefs, thus, establishing their superiority over others), and new institutions (the khanqah and dargah). It made room for multi-religious publics, even as it negotiated with kings.

To read a book like Days in the Life of a Sufi is to be reminded that historical scholarship need not always be argumentative or austere. Sometimes, it can feel like sitting by the fire, listening to an elder spin a yarn, except the yarns here are annotated, grounded, and beautifully told. They made me remember not just what I once wrote, but why I wrote it.

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Select bibliography and further reading

Ansari, Sarah F. D. Sufi Saints and State Power: The Pirs of Sind, 1843-1947. Cambridge University Press, 1992.

Iraqi, Shahabuddin. Bhakti Movement in Medieval India: Social and Political Perspectives. Manohar Publications, 2009.

Eaton, Richard M. Temple Desecration and Muslim States in Medieval India. Pinnacle Technology, 2004.

Digby, Simon. “The Sufi Shaikh as a Source of Authority in Medieval India.” In Sufism and Society in Medieval India, edited by Raziuddin Aquil. Oxford University Press, 2010.

Digby, Simon. “The Sufi Shaykh and the Sultan: A Conflict of Claims to Authority in Medieval India.” Iran 28, no. 1 (1990): 71–81. https://doi.org/10.1080/05786967.1990.11834463.

Schimmel, Annemarie. Mystical Dimensions of Islam. University of North Carolina Press, 1975.