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Two hundred years ago, in the serpiginous alleys of old Delhi, walked a man who wondered where he was and who he was. He was versed in dogma but did not find any answers there. Mysticism was more appealing but still wanting.

Words pregnant with ideas came to him from nowhere, nestled in him in rhythmic arrangements, then burst forth in melodic existence. He questioned being and nothingness, dream and reality, omnipotence and impotence, permanence and transience, unrequited effort and fulfilled effort, and existence itself.

He was an existential Sufi. This site is dedicated to him—to Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan, known to the world as Ghalib.