In the heart of Kashmir, where the scent of almond blossoms mingles with the whispers of history, there was once aman named Nund Rishi. A saint, a poet, a revolutionary in spirit—he did not claim miracles, nor did he drape himself in the robes of divine authority. Instead, he spoke to the soul of the people. His words were simple, yet powerful. They were not spells of supernatural healing but calls to awaken the mind and purify the heart. Yet, centuries later, in this same land of sages, self-styled mystics still rise. Figures like Razak Bab—men who claim divine favor, who build replicas of holy sites like Kaba shareef, who present themselves as reincarnations of saints long gone—continue to deceive, not by force, but by our own willful surrender. These figures are not an accident. They are a symptom of something deeper, something more unsettling.
Who Creates Razak Bab? These self-proclaimed spiritual figures do not appear from nowhere. We create them.It is our desperation that fuels their rise, our blind faith that cements their influence. When illness strikes, when troubles mount, when life’s burdens feel too heavy to carry, many turn—not to hard work, not to patience, not even to personal reflection—but to shortcuts disguised as faith. The promise of a miracle is always tempting. Who wouldn’t want a prayer that guarantees healing, a blessing that ensures success, a whispered incantation that removes all suffering? And so, people go. They stand in long queues, they bow their heads, they offer gifts—sometimes money, sometimes livestock, sometimes even their dignity—believing that this self-styled saint holds the key to their salvation. They listen as he declares himself chosen, perhaps even a reincarnation of Nund Rishi himself. They watch as he builds a replica of the Kaaba, as if faith could be manufactured in bricks and stones. And they believe.But belief without thought is a dangerous thing. It is the foundation upon which deception thrives.
A Distorted Legacy: Nund Rishi did not demand worship. He did not build grand structures or declare himself divine. His legacy was not of magic but of wisdom. He spoke against greed, against deception, against the corruption of faith. If he were here today, what would he say to those who seek salvation in the hands of men who claim to channel his spirit?Would he smile upon the spectacle of blind devotion, or would he weep at how far his people have strayed? For centuries, the spiritual fabric of Kashmir was woven with the threads of wisdom and self-purification. The great Sufi saints taught that faith is not about spectacle, not about public displays of grandeur, but about an inner journey. True healing does not come from a man who claims supernatural powers—it comes from self-reflection, from action, from the pursuit of truth.Yet today, the same people who once cherished this wisdom now fall prey to those who twist faith into a tool for personal gain.
“Faith is not about following a man who claims to be the next Nund Rishi; it is about embodying the values that made Nund Rishi a beacon of wisdom in the first place. So let this be a call—not just to reject false prophets, but to transform ourselves. To no longer seek miracles in the hands of deceivers, but to find strength within. To embrace a faith that is not about spectacle, but about substance. Let there be no more us who create them.”
The Cost Of Blind Faith: Every time we surrender our judgment to a self-proclaimed saint, we weaken our own power. Every time we kneel before a man rather than before the truth, we become complicit in our own deception. The cost of this blind faith is not just a few lost coins or wasted prayers. It is deeper. It is the erosion of critical thought. It is the corruption of true spirituality. It is the transformation of faith into a business, where the desperate pay, and the deceivers profit.
And what happens when such figures rise unchecked? Communities that once thrived on wisdom become communities shackled by superstition. Genuine scholars and spiritual guides, those who teach patience and self-improvement, are overshadowed by charlatans who promise instant miracles. True faith is replaced by spectacle, and religion itself is reduced to a transaction.This is how societies decline—not through the weapons of an external enemy, but through the slow decay of their own reason.
No More Razak Babs: It is time to end this cycle. No more Razak Babs. No more blind faith in men who claim divine favor. No more crowds gathering around those who exploit desperation for their own gain. The path forward is not through the illusion of supernatural shortcuts but through self-awareness, through education, through a return to the wisdom that true saints have always preached. Faith is not about following a man who claims to be the next Nund Rishi; it is about embodying the values that made Nund Rishi a beacon of wisdom in the first place. So let this be a call—not just to reject false prophets, but to transform ourselves. To no longer seek miracles in the hands of deceivers, but to find strength within. To embrace a faith that is not about spectacle, but about substance. Let there be no more us who create them.
(The author a freelancer is also teacher and a researcher based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
