‘Arif walks to the bus at sunset. He sees a vast flock of starlings moving as one body in the sky. He recites softly in Persian:
بر پرم همچون طيور الصافات
I soar up like the birds which spread their wings.
The bus is overcrowded. A woman hears the ringtone of her smartphone. She cannot reach it without jabbing her elbows into the limbs of those around her. They sigh and roll their eyes. The woman tries to make amends by scattering apologetic smiles, which freeze on her face the moment she answers the call.
“You need to breathe, my love,” are the first words she speaks—at once icily calm yet utterly alert. “We’ve been through this before, and it turned out fine. Breathe with me…”
She closes her eyes. There is no outside world as she fills and empties her lungs, even though that world is pressed against her. There is only the rhythm with which she tries to keep fear at bay. Like a wave, that rhythm seems to spread through the bus. Conversations falter, then fall silent as the call ends. A hand separates from the tangle of bodies, it is ‘Arif’s. He lifts it towards the woman, who looks up and sees his encouraging gesture.
‘Arif steps off the bus and makes his way to the khanegah of Dervish ‘Abdullah to visit its library. ‘Arif is not so much a writer as he is a passionate reader. He notices a new book with the peculiar title My Book. Picking it up, he asks Dervish Abdullah how it came into his possession.
‘I received it in a dream in which Mullah Nasruddin and I met. Towards the end of the dream, Mullah Nasruddin handed me this book and asked if I knew what it meant that he was giving me My Book.’
Dervish ‘Abdullah tells ‘Arif that his answer to Mullah Nasruddin was: ‘Yes, I know what it means.’
He continues by sharing with ‘Arif a story with the title I already know this story: ‘After his death in 1284, Mullah Nasruddin was buried near the castle of Akşehir in Turkey. In his honour, admirers built a remarkable mausoleum featuring a gigantic door with an enormous padlock, but without any walls. Instead of enclosing a defined space, the locked door stands alone in the landscape.’
‘What is the meaning of this inside-out construction? According to me, the entire world is Nasreddin’s grave. In the sacred, we commemorate the intelligent foolishness that underpins our society. The door serves as a monument to the infinitesimal distance that separates the world from itself as a madhouse. The padlock prevents free access to this disastrous insight which would put an end to the joy of life.’
Dervish ‘Abdullah adds that Mullah Nasruddin wrote this in his testament: ‘I own nothing and I give it to the richest man in Akşehir, so that he may experience what it means to own nothing.‘
A little afterwards, we see Dervish ‘Abdullah and his friend ‘Arif walking past an Ashik from Turkey called Pir Sultan Abdal. This Ashik had just been released from a mental institution, wherein he was imprisoned for the contents of his songs:
The foul deeds of this heartless butcher
Cause me to weep like a plaintive nightingale
Stones rain down upon my head.
A single rose of the Friend slays me, me, me.
Ah me, me, me Friend me, me, me.
A mere touch of the Friend bruises me.
Ah me, me, me Friend, me, me, me.
Pir Sultan Abdal then takes a sip of water before continuing his song. In the meantime, ‘Arif asks Dervish ‘Abdullah: ‘Do you know what A single rose of the Friend slays me means?’ Dervish ‘Abdullah answers: ‘Yes!’
Pir Sultan Abdal continues:
I am Pir Sultan Abdal, my soul cannot leave my body.
Unless God ordains it, the rain of mercy will not fall.
The stones cast by my enemies’ hands will not touch me.
Only the rose of the Friend can slay me.
Ah me, me, me Friend, me, me, me.
Come, friends let us unite!
Claim the rights of the poor!
Claim the rights of the orphan.
Come let us walk together!
Let our hearts unite!
I am Pir Sultan, I am he who rebelled.
What has been ordained must come to pass.
Dervish ‘Abdullah and ‘Arif pass a billboard with a large photo of the local ruler. That’s why Dervish ‘Abdullah tells the following story:
‘To test the sultan, who constantly boasts of his omnipotence, Mullah Nasruddin asks him to build a wall so high that the sultan himself cannot jump over it. What should the sultan do? If he cannot jump over the wall, he is not omnipotent. If he can jump over it, he is incapable of making the wall high enough.’
‘Pir Sultan Abdal,’ adds Dervish ‘Abdullah, ‘is a free spirit. He is a dervish who lives by singing and accompanying himself on the saz. To play this musical instrument is in his eyes to worship God. He would therefore never place his saz on the ground.
‘He attracts many people who wish to become his murid. However, they eventually leave him, feeling disappointed. They say, ‘I dearly wanted to learn from him, but all I found was madness.’ Yet, when they seek profound wisdom elsewhere, they may fail to find it.’
‘Pir Sultan Abdal painted a spiral symbol on his saz, conveying the idea that Reality repeats itself, yet never in the same way. He embodies a form of irrational thinking, perceiving and addressing problems that others do not even recognise as such.’
Dervish ‘Abdullah adds: ’This reminds me of a ghazal attributed to Khwaja Mo’inuddin Chishti dealing with the attraction [jadhba] by God which can turn you into a fool of God [an attracted one or majdhub]. ‘The irrational behaviour of Pir Sultan Abdal is different from the unusual acts of a majdhub called Mama-ji Sarkar. I met him in Rawalpindi, Pakistan. These are the lines of Khwaja Gharib Nawaz ghazal that are relevant:
جذبه نور جمالش میکشد سوی خودم
گوءیا او شمع و من پروانه ام ای عاشقان
Jadhba-ye-nur-e-jamaalash mikashad suye khudam
Gu’yaa u sham’ o man parwaana am ay ‘aasheqaan
The attraction of the light of His Beauty draws me towards itself,
As if He is the candle and I am the moth, O lovers!’
‘The presence of Mama-ji Sarkar is said to be beneficial to the inhabitants of the town of Rawalpindi. People say he is a sahib-i-kashf – a master in unveiling. You can see Mama-ji Sarkar running up and down the streets in a state of divine attraction, shouting: ‘I am the Qalandar of God’.’
Suddenly, Hafiz ibn al-Jawzi interrupts the talk of the two dervishes. You don’t know him? He is the author of Sketches of Fools and Simpletons. Better not tell him that you have never heard of the same and just listen to him:
‘I say that the definition of foolishness and idiocy is this: They err in the way and means to the goal, even though the goal itself may be correct. This contrasts with insanity, which refers to flaws in both the goal and the means. Ibn al-Jawzi then provides an example:
‘A pet bird once flew away from a ruler. In response, he ordered the gates of the city to be closed! He aimed to prevent the bird from escaping into the open air. This, then, is an example of foolishness and idiocy, not of insanity.’
The Hafiz adds a few more anecdotes about a friend of Mulla Nasruddin named Joha:
‘It is said that Joha once buried some money in the desert and marked the spot with a cloud in the sky.
On another occasion, a man asked Joha: ‘Can you do arithmetic using your fingers?’
Yes!’ Joha replied.
The man said, ‘Take two measures of wheat.’ Joha crossed ring and his pinky fingers.
‘Take two measures of barley,’ the man instructed next. Joha crossed his index and thumb fingers and extended his middle finger.
The man asked, ‘Why did you extend the middle finger?’ Joha replied: ‘So that the wheat and the barley do not get mixed together.’
It is told that Joha buried some money in the desert, and marked money with a cloud in the sky.’
A man once told Joha, ‘Can you do maths with your fingers?’ He said, ‘Yes.’ The man told him, ‘Take two measures of wheat,’ and Joha crossed the ring and his pinky fingers. He told him, ‘Take two measures of barley,’ and he crossed the index and thumb fingers, and extended die middle finger. The man said, “Why did you extend the middle finger?’ He said, ‘So that the wheat and barley do not get mixed together.’
Ibn al-‘Jawzi takes his leave and adds one more anecdote: ‘A certain Ibn Mu’adh wrote a letter to his pharmacist. The pharmacist used the address ‘To the man who wrote a letter to me’ on his letter in return.’
‘Arif remarks: ‘I have a question about Mulla Nasruddin’s My Book. I know that Sufism can’t be found in books. Mawlana Rumi says:
مرد خدا عالم از حق بود
The man of God is made wise by the Truth.
‘I also know that reading too many books can cause madness. Think of Don Quichote!’
‘I am aware that My Book is very different from al-Hafiz ibn al-Jawzi’s Sketches of Fools and Simpletons. Do you know why all of the 111 pages of the book of Mulla Nasruddin are blank?’
Dervish ‘Abdullah answers: ‘Yes!’
‘Arif on his return home, listens to an ‘Ashiq singing some lines of shaykh Sa’di at the subway station:
بنی آدم اعضای یکدیگرند
که در آفرینش ز یک گوهرند
چو عضوی به درد آورد روزگار
دگر عضوها را نماند قرار
تو کز محنت دیگران بی غمی
نشاید که نامت نهند آدمی
Human beings are members of a whole
In creation of one essence and soul
If one member is afflicted with pain
Other members uneasy will remain
If you have no sympathy for human pain
The name of human you cannot retain.
Siraj