News Desk
KARACHI, Pakistan — The Tehreek-i-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP), a religiopolitical party that has surged to prominence in recent years, first gained national attention in 2017 when it led fiery protests against perceived blasphemies, including controversial depictions of the Prophet Muhammad in France.
Khadim Hussain Rizvi, the founder of Tehreek-e-Labbaik Pakistan (TLP), was a polarizing Barelvi cleric whose fervent campaigns against blasphemy propelled him to national prominence before his death on November 19, 2020, at age 54. Born in 1966 in Punjab’s Attock district, Rizvi, a wheelchair-bound scholar of Hadith, established TLP in 2015, galvanizing supporters with his unyielding defense of Pakistan’s blasphemy laws and the Prophet Muhammad’s honor. His death in Lahore, attributed to breathing difficulties and fever at Sheikh Zayed Hospital—possibly linked to unconfirmed COVID-19 symptoms—sparked widespread mourning among followers. Rizvi’s grave in Lahore has since become a site of veneration, with supporters transforming it into a mausoleum-like shrine, or dargah, where annual Urs celebrations, marking the anniversary of his death, draw thousands. These gatherings, often led by his son and successor, Sa’ad Hussain Rizvi, reflect the Barelvi tradition of honoring saints, with devotees offering prayers and wreaths, cementing Rizvi’s posthumous status as a spiritual icon for TLP’s faithful.
This veneration of shrines, often associated with Sufi traditions, is a hallmark of religious life across Pakistan, India, and Bangladesh.
In Pakistan, it manifests in the throngs of devotees who flock to the tombs of revered saints, seeking blessings and intercession. The phenomenon transcends politics: Bushra Bibi, wife of former Prime Minister Imran Khan, is linked to a shrine in Punjab where followers of a local saint, or pir, gather, sustaining a vibrant spiritual economy.
Similarly, former Foreign Minister Shah Mahmood Qureshi has been embroiled in family disputes over control of ancestral shrines, reflecting a belief that such sites serve economic benefits and as conduits between the divine and the earthly. For many, these practices represent a mystical, inclusive strain of Islam; for others, they border on idolatry, a point of contention that fuels sectarian divides.
The veneration of shrines, often seen as a form of spiritual intercession, extends far beyond Pakistan, thriving as a cornerstone of religious life across South Asia, from India’s bustling dargahs to Bangladesh’s quiet mausoleums.
In India, a vibrant economy flourishes around shrines, with the historic dargah of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti in Ajmer standing as a testament to the enduring pull of saintly devotion, drawing millions of pilgrims annually across faiths.
The TLP’s brand of Barelvi Islam, while rooted in these traditions, takes a more confrontational tack. Its leaders, drawing on the legacy of figures like Ghaus-e-Azam, a 12th-century Sufi master, to near-mythic status—occasionally sparking accusations of eclipsing the Prophet himself. Such beliefs, though not universal among Barelvis, underscore the subcontinent’s kaleidoscope of Islamic expressions, where devotion to saints can coexist with rigid orthodoxy. Yet, the TLP’s rise also reflects a broader challenge in Pakistan: a religious landscape marked by competing visions of piety, often tipping into extremism. As shrine-goers seek solace and hardline groups wield street power, the question looms—can Pakistan’s pluralistic traditions find harmony, or will they fracture further under the weight of zeal?
