In early 1915, while Hazrat Inayat Khan and his family were sheltering in England from the war, he produced a short autobiography which he called ‘Confessions.’ This was printed privately in a limited edition, and was subsequently reprinted in vol. XII of the Message series. Although this work contains far less detail than the ‘Biography of Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan’ (published by East-West Publishing and also available online) it has a freshness that is very appealing. As he deepened in his mission to spread the Message, Hazrat Inayat Khan spoke less and less about his own personal life, but in the Confessions we may still glimpse his fascinating and charming human side.

‘Whatsoever road I took, it joined the street which leads to Thee.’
   – The Dabistan

I was born in Baroda, India, in the year 1882, when a great religious reform began, not only in India itself, but the entire world over, and which was the first source of our present-day awakening. I am sure it was the planetary influence which existed at that time that has kept me busied all my life in seeking the divine truth, which is as the garment of God’s glory.

Music and mysticism were my heritage from both my paternal and maternal ancestors, among whom were numbered Maulabakhsh, whom people called the Beethoven of India and whose portrait is in the Victoria and Albert Museum as South Kensington, and Jumma Shah, the great seer of Punjab. I have ever felt much embarrassed when I was compared with these masters, and this humility brought the old saying to my mind, ‘Have pride in thine own merits rather than in those of thy ancestors.’

‘I also came out as a brook from a river; and as a conduit into a garden.’
   – Ecclesiasticus

My curiosity about the hidden secrets of nature was early aroused, and I made frequent inquiries concerning the mysteries of religion, such as, Where does God Live? How old is God? Why should we pray to Him? And why should we fear Him? Why should people die? And where do they go after death? If God has created all, who was the creator of God?

My parents, Rahemat Khan and Khadija Bibi, would patiently answer me in the simplest and most plausible manner possible, but I would prolong the argument until they were wearied. Then I would ponder upon the same questions. 

‘Mankind’s great enemy is idleness. There is no friend like energy, and if you cultivate that you will never fail.’
   – Bhartrihari

I was sent to school when quite young, but I fear that I was more inclined to play than to study. I preferred punishment to paying attention to those subjects in which I had no interest. I enjoyed religion, poetry, morals, logic, and music more than all other learning, and I took music as a special subject at the Academy of Baroda and repeatedly won the first prize there.

I had so much curiosity about strangers, fortune-tellers, faqirs, dervishes, spiritualists, and mystics, that I would very often absent myself from my meals to seek them out. My taste for music, poetry, and philosophy increased daily, and I loved my grandfather’s company more than a game with boys of my own age. In silent fascination I observed his every movement and listened to his musical interpretations, his methods of study, his discussions and his conversations. My attempts at writing poetry without any training in the art of meter and form induced my parents to place me under the tutorship of Kavi Ratnakar, the great Hindustani poet.

I also began to compose, and sang a song of prayer to Ganesh in Sanskrit before His Highness Sayajirao Gaekwad, Maharaja of Baroda, who rewarded my song with a valuable necklace and scholarship. This encouraged me to advance further in music under the guidance of Maulabaksh, who inspired me with music from kindred soul to soul. 

‘He was born the Lord of what is, who by His majesty is the one King of the moving world that breathes and closes its eyes.’

My kinfolk were Muslim, and I grew up devoted to the Holy Prophet and loyal to Islam, and never missed one prayer of the five which are the daily portion of the faithful.

One evening in the summer time I was kneeling on the house-roof, offering my Namaz (prayers) to Allah the Great, when the thought smote me that although I had been praying so long with all trust, devotion, and humility, no revelation had been vouchsafed to me, and that it was therefore not wise to worship Him, that One whom I had neither seen nor fathomed. I went to my grandfather and told him I would not offer any more prayers to Allah until I had both beheld and gauged Him. ‘There is no sense in following a belief and doing as one’s ancestors did before one, without knowing the true reason,’ I said.

Instead of being vexed Maulabakhsh was pleased with my inquisitiveness, and after a little silence he answered me by quoting a sura of the Quran, ‘We will show them our signs in the world and in themselves, that the truth may be manifested to them.’ And then he soothed my impatience and explained, saying, ‘The signs of God are seen in the world, and the world is seen in thyself.’

These words entered so deeply into my spirit, that from this time every moment of my life has been occupied with the thought of the divine immanence; and my eyes were thus opened, as the eyes of the young man by Elijah, to see the symbols of God in all aspects of nature, and also in that nature which is reflected within myself. This sudden illumination made everything appear as clear to me as in a crystal bowl or a translucent jewel. Thenceforth I devoted myself to the absorption and attainment of truth, the immortal and perfected Grace.

To be continued…