In the village of Takht Hazara there once lived a young man named Dheedo, of the clan of Ranjha. He was the youngest son of a wealthy landowner, and as the youngest, he was a trifle spoiled. Rather than working or managing the family property, he spent his days lazing in the sun and playing his flute.
Unfortunately, his father eventually died, and the sons divided the land amongst themselves. The older brothers never thought much of the youngest, so when they divided the land they gave Ranjha the worst, most infertile part of the property. Ranjha tried to work his land for a while, to no avail. Disgusted, he took his flute and left Takht Hazara.
The going was hard, because Ranjha was used to the good life on his family’s property, and now he had to beg for scraps to live — not always successfully. But he must have been a good person at heart, because heaven looked after him.
One night Ranjha took shelter in a mosque. To pass the time, he played his flute. His playing attracted the villagers, who all came to listen to the beautiful music. It also attracted the attention of the mullah in charge of the mosque. The mullah tried to stop Ranjha from playing, scolding him for desecrating the mosque with his music. Ranjha turned on him, saying that a little music was nothing compared to the hypocrisy of the so-called holy men.
You and your kind, with your beards, try to pretend to be saints, but your actions are that of the devil. You run around after women in mosques… you are like curses clinging to the house of God.
The mullah was furious, naturally, but there was nothing he could do — the villagers refused to back him up (perhaps they secretly agreed with Ranjha). Finally, the mullah left, and Ranjha spent the night in the mosque, and then traveled on the next day.
Eventually, Ranjha reached the banks of the River Chenab, just as the sun began to set. He asked Ludan, the ferryman, to take him to the city of Jhang on the other side. But Ludan refused, because it was getting dark and he suspected Ranjha of being a thief or highwayman who planned to rob Ludan as they crossed the river. Thinking that he had no choice except to camp out on the side of the river, Ranjha sat down on the river bank, pulled out his flute, and began to play a low, melancholy tune. The sound was so beautiful that everyone who heard it felt moved to pity, and between their intercessions on Ranjha’s behalf, and the lovely sound of the flute itself, Ludan’s heart softened and he agreed to take Ranjha across.
After Ranjha boarded the ferry, he made himself comfortable on a luxurious red and white couch on the ferry. At first Ludan tried to stop him — the couch belonged to Heer, the daughter of Mihr Chuchak, the head of the Siyal clan. But Ranjha continued to play his flute, and Ludan, spellbound, let Ranjha sleep where he would.
The next morning, Heer and her girlfriends arrived at the river, sweeping down on the ferry “as a hailstorm sweeps over a field.” Noticing Ranjha asleep on her couch, Heer castigated Ludan loudly, then threatened to have Ranjha beaten for his insolence.
But when Ranjha opened his beautiful eyes, Heer changed her tune. And Ranjha fell in love with Heer at first sight, too.
She had a face like the full moon, eyes that sparkled like precious gems, teeth so white like the petals of the jasmine flower, lips like red rubies….
They spent the rest of the day together; Ranjha told Heer his life story. By the end of the day, Heer swore to be Ranjha’s forever.
The next day Heer brought Ranjha to her father, Mihr Chuchak, saying “Father, I have found someone to herd the buffaloes.”
Chuchak was skeptical: Ranjha, with his beautiful long oiled hair and smooth skin, looked more like a rich man’s son (which he was) than like a herder or a laborer. But Chuchak loved his daughter and trusted her judgement, so he hired Ranjha.
Every day, Heer brought Ranjha milk and bread, or sweets and rice, and spent the whole day with him in the forest. She neglected her spinning and her household chores, she abandoned all her girl friends. Soon gossip spread throughout the village. Who was this mysterious buffalo herder who insisted that only Mihr Chuchak’s daughter bring him food, and who oiled his long hair every day with almost a quart of ghee?
The gossip reached the ears of Kaidu, Heer’s uncle, who began to lurk in the forest, trying to catch the two together. One day Kaidu found Ranjha alone in the forest, and came up to him, pretending to be a beggar. Ranjha, remembering the days on the road when he, too, had to beg for food and shelter, gave Kaidu half a pastry — a pastry that Heer had made for him.
Kaidu took the pastry and brought it before the village elders as proof of Heer’s disobedience and wanton behavior.
I have seen Heer and Ranjha in the forests, and I tell no lies.
Ranjha will take away Heer, and there will be shame to the Siyals.
The elders went to Chuchak and told him about Kaidu’s accusation. Chuchak was furious. “Kaidan is a talebearer and a liar,” he said. “He chases moths all day.”
But Kaidan went to Heer’s mother, urging her to do something. In the face off all the family pressure, Chuchak called Ranjha to him one night after Ranjha had returned with the buffaloes. In front of all his kinsmen, Chuchak dismissed Ranjha. Ranjha threw down his staff in a rage.
“For twelve years [!!] I have tended your buffalo and now you turn me away without wages!”
And Ranjha turned on his heel and left.
But now all the village folk began to talk, criticizing Chuchak for dismissing Ranjah without even paying his wages; and of course Heer was inconsolable. To calm the situation down, Chuchak relented. He took Ranjha back into his service — and more.
Before 70 Khans and 72 nobles Chuchak betrothed
Heer to Ranjha, saying:
“As long as thou shalt live she is thine, and when thou art dead she will not deny it.
If any one tear Heer from thee I will bear witness against him in the Court of God.”
But Heer’s mother and uncle brought Heer before the qazi, the judge, who reminded Heer of her duty to respect her family and their position in the village. It was beneath her to consort with buffalo herders. Heer refused to give up Ranjha.
As wine-bibbers cannot desert the bottle, as opium-eaters cannot be without their drug, so I cannot live without Ranjha.
After much back-and-forth, the qazi still couldn’t change Heer’s mind. Frustrated, he told the Siyals that Heer was too stubborn, and to avoid further scandal they should marry her off right away. The Siyals called a clan meeting.
Chuchak wanted to marry Heer to Ranjha, but his kinsmen overruled him. Even if the buffalo herder were noble-born, he was only a Ranjha of Takht Hazara — too lowly a family to marry a Siyal. The family decided to marry Heer off to Saida, of the Khera clan.