In the quietness of the night Gamasa al-Bulti called out from under the date palm, “O God, free me from yesterday. O God, free me from tomorrow.”
Then Singam’s voice was heard: “We love what you love, but between us and people is a barrier of destinies.”
The laughter of Zarmabaha rang out. “Why were honey and wine created?”
Shahriyar was going about his nightly peregrinations with his two men.
“Continuous whisperings pass through me, but my head spins in a state of bewilderment,” he said to Dandan.
He was sparely built, radiant of countenance, sleepy-eyed, and with a mole on each cheek, about to penetrate shyly the age of adolescence. Ugr the barber looked at him and said, “You have learned what you need to, so take the tools of your trade and move off—God will provide for you.”
“May God spare you the evil of wicked men,” muttered Fattouha.
The young man went off, spirited and happy.
“He has the handsomeness of Nur al-Din,” said Ugr as though talking to himself, “so may God bestow His good fortune amply upon him.”
“The amulet of mine that he wears on his chest will deter him from the path his father took,” said Fattouha.
Ugr cast a poisonous look at her but said not a word.
He went on his way, working in the street and in shops, and everyone whose eyes alighted upon him would say, “May the Great Creator be praised!”
When the time came for a rest he chose the stairway of the public fountain, and a quick friendship grew up between him and Fadil Sanaan, the seller of sweetmeats. Once he invited him to where he was living in the rooming house, where he saw Fadil’s wife Akraman, his mother Umm Saad, and his sister Husniya. His adolescent state stirred him secretly and clashed with his piety and the religious upbringing he had received at the Quranic school, so he began to make excuses whenever Fadil invited him to his home. Fadil perceived his piety and said to him, “You are a young man who is worthy of God’s words that are concealed in your heart.”
“It is through my Lord’s grace,” muttered Aladdin.
“What is your feeling,” he asked cautiously, “when you see sins carrying people away?”
“Sadness and sorrow,” he murmured.
“And what good does that do?”
“What more do you want?” he asked, bewilderment in his eyes.
“Anger!”
He repeated it, then said, “A lion deserves the best.”
The quarter was honoring the birth of the saint Sidi al-Warraq. Processions marched out, flags fluttered, drums and pipes answered one another. The good and the bad gathered round the bowls of sopped bread, meat, and broth. In the parties of the elite were Hasan al-Attar, Galil al-Bazzaz, Suleiman al-Zeini, al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, and Shamloul the hunchback. Fadil Sanaan, Ugr the barber, Ma’rouf the cobbler, Ibrahim the water-carrier, and Ragab the porter were also there. Alone, and for the first time, Aladdin of the Moles put in an appearance. Fadil had him sit alongside him.
“If al-Warraq were to be resurrected he would draw his sword!” said Fadil.
Aladdin gave the smile of someone who was gaining more experience in coming to know his friend. Then Fadil said in a significant tone, “Since the good do not draw their swords, then I shall do so.”
“They speak a lot about the repentance of His Majesty the Sultan,” said Aladdin innocently.
“Sometimes,” said Fadil sarcastically, “he repents of his repentance, and for sure he is not the most deserving of the Muslims to be in sovereign power.”
Aladdin’s eyes were drawn toward the right and he detached himself, for a time, from what his companion was saying. Over there was a thin old man of joyous face and arresting appearance. Aladdin felt he had not looked toward him just by chance: he found the old man’s eyes awaiting his own. There was a secret invitation from the man, an answering from Aladdin. He felt at ease, the delight of the sane at heart at the splendor of an opening rose. Fadil, noticing Aladdin’s attention drawn to the old man, said, “Sheikh Abdullah al-Balkhi is the principal holy man.”
“Why does he look at me?” Aladdin inquired naively.
“Why do you look at him?” asked Fadil cryptically.
“The fact is that I love him,” he whispered.
Fadil frowned and found nothing to say.
Aladdin left the anniversary festivities with his heart overflowing with the echoes of the songs. He was floating in the darkness under the faint light of the stars, with the autumnal breeze playing against him, when a deep and resonant voice called to him: “Aladdin!”
He stopped and his heart told him that the voice was that of the sheikh. The sheikh caught up with him and said, “You are invited to be my friend.”
“What a wonderful invitation, sir!” he said shyly. “But how did you know my name?”
“My house is known,” said the old man, not replying to his question, “to those who want it.”
“My work takes up my whole day,” he said, as though excusing himself.
“You do not know what your work is.”
“But I am a barber, sir.”
Again, the old man did not concern himself with Aladdin’s answer, but queried, “Why did you attend the festivities of al-Warraq?”
“I have loved such festivities since I was small.”
“What do you know about al-Warraq?”
“He was a godly saint.”
“Here is a story he used to relate. He said, ‘My sheikh gave me some small scraps of paper, with the instruction that I should throw them into the river. But my heart did not allow me to do this and I placed them in my house. I went to him and said, “I have undertaken what you ordered.” So he asked, “And what did you see?” I said, “I saw nothing.” He said, “You didn’t do as I ordered. Return and throw them into the river.” So I returned, being in doubt about the sign he had promised me, and threw them into the river, and the water parted and a box appeared. Its lid opened so that the pieces of paper fell into it, at which it closed and the waters flowed over it. So I returned and informed him of what had happened and he said, “Now you have truly thrown them.” So I asked him to explain the secret of this, and he said, “I wrote a book about Sufism which only the perfect could aspire to, and my brother the Khidr* asked it of me, and God ordered that the waters should take it to him.” ’ ”
Aladdin was amazed and took refuge in silence. They went off together leisurely with the sheikh saying, “One of the Sayings of the Prophet that has been handed down is: ‘The corruption of scholars is through heedlessness, and the corruption of princes is through injustice, and the corruption of the Sufis is through hypocrisy.’ ”
“How delightful are his words!” muttered Aladdin with joy.
The sheikh said in a voice that was slightly raised in the calm of the night, “So be not one of the associates of devils.”
Spurred on by a feverish yearning, Aladdin asked, “Who are the associates of devils?”
“A prince without learning, a scholar without virtue, a Sufi without trust in God, and the corruption of the world lies in their corruption.”
“I want to understand,” said Aladdin fervently.
“Patience, Aladdin. It is only the beginning of a mutual acquaintance under a starlit scene—and my house is known to those who want it.”
That night Aladdin dreamed that the madman had come to him in his gown, which hung down over his naked body, and said to him, “Let your beard grow.”
He was amazed at this request, and the madman said, “It is only a snare for hunting.”
“But I am a barber not a hunter,” said Aladdin.
“Man was created to be a hunter,” shouted the madman.
At the breakfast table Aladdin told his parents the story of Sheikh Abdullah al-Balkhi. Fattouha was delighted and said, “A blessing from our Lord.”
As for Ugr, he listened to it without interest, saying, “You’re nothing but a barber and you are sufficiently religious, so be careful not to overdo it.”
With this difference of opinion the husband and wife quarreled and exchanged bitter words.
Above the stairway of the public fountain he went on listening to what Fadil had to say with astonishment.
“You are annoyed at our exalted men.”
“Have you known them well?” Fadil asked him.
“Sometimes my father takes me with him to their houses as his assistant and I see at close range al-Fadl ibn Khaqan the governor of our quarter, also Haikal al-Zafarani the private secretary, and Darwish Omran the chief of police.”
“This does not mean that you have known them.”
“Great men. With only one of them did my heart contract on seeing him—that was Habazlam Bazaza, the son of Darwish Omran. It seemed to me that he resembled the Devil.”
“Have you seen the Devil?”
“Don’t make fun of me, it was only a feeling.”
Fadil Sanaan gave a deep sigh and said, as though talking to himself, “Scoundrels!”
“How is it that you have formed such a low opinion of them?”
“There is no smoke without fire.”
“God is present,” he said, after thinking a while.
“But we are among His instruments with which He brings goodness into effect or eradicates evil.”
“What do you mean, Fadil?” he asked, looking him in the eyes.
“I aspire to make you into a friend and a companion,” he said enigmatically.
Early in the evening he sat in the simple reception room at al-Balkhi’s house waiting for him to come in. It was his first visit. He had heard his father, Ugr, relating a story about the sheikh that had distressed and saddened him. He had said that Darwish Omran the chief of police had asked for the hand of the sheikh’s only daughter for his son Habazlam Bazaza. She was a pure and pious girl who had taken after her father and was of outstanding beauty. He remembered the devilish image of Habazlam Bazaza and what was said about his conduct and he had been upset and further saddened. His father had gone on with the story and said that the sheikh had thanked Darwish Omran and excused himself. But the chief of police was doubtless angry, and if the chief of police is angry then the person against whom his venom is directed is not safe from harm.
He had asked his father, “Does Sheikh al-Balkhi not realize this fact?”
“It is known of the sheikh,” answered Ugr, “that he fears no one but God. But does the chief of police fear God?”
He came to visit the sheikh with a heart heavy with sadness for him. But no sooner did he see him coming cheerfully toward him than he forgot his sadness and realized that he really did not fear anyone but God.
The sheikh sat down cross-legged on a cushion in front of him.
“What is your feeling,” he asked, “as you visit me for the first time?”
“I feel as though I have known you since I was born,” Aladdin said truthfully.
“Each of us has another father and the happy one among us is he who discovers Him,” he said smiling.
“And what you said on the night of the festivities captivated my heart.”
“We draw the blind who are astray to the Path. What did your father say?”
“He wants me to dedicate my heart to my work,” Aladdin said, perturbed.
“He is sleeping and refuses to wake up,” he said seriously. “But how do you assess yourself, Aladdin?”
Finding that he did not know how to answer, the sheikh asked him without formality, “What sort of a Muslim are you?”
“I’m a sincere Muslim.”
“Do you pray?” he asked.
“I do, thanks be to God.”
“I don’t think you have ever prayed!”
He looked in amazement at the sheikh, who said, “With us prayer is performed in depth, and the person praying feels nothing if touched and burnt by fire.”
Aladdin, helpless, kept silent.
“You should accept Islam anew,” said the sheikh, “so as to become a true believer. When belief is effected in you, you start off on the Path from its beginning, if you so wish.”
Aladdin remained silent and the sheikh said, “I do not belittle the hardship of the Path with honeyed words, for the light of salvation is a fruit that is withheld from all but its followers. God accepts from you less than that—to each one in proportion to his zeal.”
Silence reigned until it was broken by Aladdin asking, “Does that require that I should give up my work?”
“Each sheikh has a Way of his own,” the other answered forcefully, “and as for me I accept only those who work.”
“I shall come quickly and eagerly.”
“Do not come,” he said, “unless you are driven by an irresistible desire.”
He came up to Fadil Sanaan at the public fountain as a new person. Fadil was dubious and muttered impatiently, “How long are you going to leave me in a state of hope?”
“I,” said Aladdin, “am in the state of confusion.”
“Did you find the way to the sheikh’s house?”
“Yes—how did you know that?”
“I know his tracks.” Then he added, “I moved around with him for a long time.”
“You!”
“Yes.”
“He is a righteous sheikh.”
“That, and more,” he conceded, bending his head.
“Perhaps patience failed you and you discontinued?”
“I received at his hands an upbringing whose effects do not abate, yet I preferred permanence to the obliteration of self.”
“I do not understand, friend.”
“Be patient, understanding is not made possible except with time. I would like to see you as one of God’s soldiers, not one of his dervishes.”
“I am truly confused.”
“The logic of faith is everlasting and eternal,” said Fadil. “The Path is one at first, then it splits inevitably into two. One of these leads to love and to obliteration of self, the other to holy war. As for the people of obliteration of self, they are dedicated to themselves, and as for the people of holy war, they dedicate themselves to God’s servants.”
At this Aladdin sank into deep thought that caused him to forget time.
Darwish Omran the chief of police and his son Habazlam Bazaza were trotting along on two mules from the police station to their house with the sun about to set. At the turning into Shooting Square the madman suddenly fixed them with a stare. Blocking their way, he cried out at Darwish Omran, “Visit your friend al-Mu’in ibn Sawi and convey my greetings.”
The man then went on his way and Habazlam asked, “What does madman want?”
“A madman is not held answerable for his words or actions.”
He nevertheless realized that he was reminding him of the fate of the chief of police and that he was referring to his digressions. His son too realized this despite his question, especially as he normally acted as intermediary between his father and the merchants.
“Madmen have a place they do not depart from,” Habazlam retorted.
“He enjoys the affection of His Majesty the Sultan,” said Darwish Omran.
“As I see it,” Habazlam said derisively, “he is afraid of him.”
“Mind your tongue, Habazlam.”
“What ignominy, father,” exclaimed the young man. “Isn’t it enough that the deviant sheikh refused to accept me as a husband for his daughter?”
Darwish Omran frowned without uttering a word.
“For him whose happiness is not valid, that happiness bequeaths troubles; and for him whose sociability is not in the service of his Lord, that sociability bequeaths alienation.”
Among the lessons in religion that the sheikh would give Aladdin, his cup brimmed over with fragments of enlightening aphorisms. It was as though he was communing with himself, but the young man would receive them in a daze.
“Everyone thereon is transitory, except His face, and he who delights in the transitory will be beset by sorrow when that which delights him comes to an end. Everything is vanity except the worship of Him; sorrow and alienation throughout the world ensue from looking at everything but God.”
Aladdin remembered his dreams, his conversations, and his actions and the world appeared to him like a covering of mysteries. He remembered his father and his mother and he was overcome with sadness.
“He who has been endowed with three things alongside three other things has escaped from the banes of life: an empty stomach on a contented heart; continued poverty with present abstinence; and total patience with constant invocation of His name.”
Aladdin said to himself: We pray to the Merciful, the Compassionate in the name of the Merciful, the Compassionate.
At this the sheikh asked him, “What are you thinking about, my son?”
With reddened cheeks he emerged from his momentary daze. “Nothing will take me out of my state of confusion except the benevolence of the Merciful.”
“You must, before receiving the wine, cleanse the container, removing from it all elements of dirt.”
“What a good spiritual guide you are!” he said joyfully.
“But ‘the other’ forces himself upon us while that guide is absent.”
Realizing that he was referring to Fadil Sanaan, Aladdin inquired, “What do you think of him, master?”
“A noble youth who knew what suited him and was satisfied with it.”
“Is he straying from the right path?”
“He is waging war against error to the extent of his ability.”
“Now my heart is at peace,” said Aladdin happily.
“But you must know yourself.”
“He is poor, but rich in bearing the worries of mankind.”
“A creed for the sword and a creed for love.”
Aladdin was silent and the sheikh said, “Blessed are those who have accomplished the transfer of the heart from things to the Lord of things. The world does not come to my mind, so how should it come to the minds of those who know not the world?”
After this the sheikh continued with his lesson.
One night the sheikh received him in the same room but he saw that a curtain had been let down at its right-hand corner. He was beset by youthful notions.
“Listen, Aladdin,” said the sheikh.
The strings of a lute were struck behind the curtains and a melodious voice sang:
“My night is resplendent with your face
with darkness in force among people.
While people are in the depths of darkness,
we are in the brightness of daylight.”
The voice was silent but its echo continued to penetrate the depths.
“This is Zubeida, my daughter,” said the sheikh. “She is a sincere disciple.”
“I am happy and honored,” mumbled Aladdin in rapture.
“I have refused to give her to the son of the chief of police.” Then, continuing after a silence, “But I make of her a gift to you, Aladdin.”
“But I am nothing but an itinerant barber,” he said in a voice that trembled with emotion.
And the sheikh recited:
“A visitor whose handsomeness was revealed—
how hides the night a full moon that comes forth?”
Then he said, “He who is humble about himself, God raises his worth; and he who exults in himself, God humbles him in the eyes of His servants.”
A marriage contract was made between Aladdin and Zubeida. The young man transferred himself to the house of the great sheikh. Ugr, Fattouha, and Fadil Sanaan, Master Sahloul and Abdul Qadir al-Maheeni attended the simple wedding feast. And, without an invitation, the madman came along and sat to the right of the bridegroom. After the feast Ugr went off to his house in the company of a group of his special friends, where glasses of wine made the rounds and he went on dancing and singing until dawn.
Only a few days after the night of the wedding the peaceful atmosphere of the quarter was troubled by painful events when the epidemic of evil, with its somber face, advanced once more upon it. A rare and valuable jewel had been lost from the residence of the governor, al-Fadl ibn Khaqan, and his wife was greatly upset. This had reminded the governor of those unruly incidents that had beset the quarter from time to time in the shape of assassinations and robberies that revealed the ugliest of conspiracies and ended up with the killing of the governor or his dismissal. The man poured out his anger against Darwish Omran, the chief of police, who denied that his organization had been negligent and promised that the perpetrator would be arrested and the jewel found.
The chief of police dispatched his plainclothesmen throughout the quarter. On the basis of reports received he made a raid on the house of Sheikh Abdullah al-Balkhi, paying no heed to the murmurings of the people. He searched it thoroughly and came across the jewel in Aladdin’s cupboard, where he also found some letters that showed conclusively that he was cooperating with the Kharijites. Thus Aladdin was arrested and thrown into prison and it was decided that he should be put on trial immediately.
With this a pall of sadness fell upon the hearts of the people. It burned not only at Zubeida, Fattouha, and Ugr, but hearts generally were pained at the fate of the handsome young man. They were determined that he should be freed and pointed to the chief of police and his son Habazlam Bazaza as being those who had planned the crime. What increased people’s suspicions was the appearance of a sudden favor granted to al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, which led them to believe that the planners had had recourse to his previous experience as chief of police in carrying out what they had plotted. Ugr went to solicit compassion from al-Fadl ibn Khaqan and Haikal al-Zafarani, but he found himself rebuffed by them. He urged Sheikh Abdullah al-Balkhi to exert himself, making use of the veneration in which he was held, but no word or movement issued from the sheikh. Events moved with startling speed and Aladdin was tried and sentenced to be beheaded.
On the morning of a cold autumnal day Aladdin was led off to execution under close guard amid a vast crowd of the inhabitants of the quarter that included both officials and working men. Aladdin himself could not believe what was taking place and was calling out, “I am innocent—God is my witness.”
His gaze roamed among the faces that stared at him, some pitying, some crowing over his fate, and he raised his face toward the heavens behind the clouds, submitting himself to his Creator. The screams of his mother and his wife came to him and his heart quaked. Despite his state of bewilderment he was able to recall how he had hoped to emerge from his confusion to the sword of holy war or to divine love. It had never occurred to him that his fate would instead be the executioner’s sword.
Many expected that some miracle might occur at the last moment, as had happened to Ugr, but the sword was raised high before their eyes amid the atmosphere of gloom; then in its falling it scattered all hopes: the handsome and noble head was severed from the body.
In the sheikh’s house Ugr moaned, “My son is innocent.”
“Innocent and blameless,” wailed Zubeida. “God is sufficient for me.”
The sheikh sat cross-legged, calm and silent. He did nothing; even sadness he did not express. His daughter said to him, “Father, I am racked with pain.”
“You haven’t made the least movement,” Ugr said to him sharply. “It’s as if the matter didn’t concern you.”
He looked at his daughter without paying any attention to Ugr and said, “Patience, Zubeida.”
Then, after a silence, he went on: “Here is the story of a venerable sheikh who said, ‘I fell into a hole and after three days there passed by a caravan of travelers. I told myself that I should call out to them. Then I went back on my decision, saying that no, it was not proper that I should seek help other than from Almighty God. When they approached the hole they found that it was in the middle of the road and they said, “Let’s fill this hole lest someone fall into it.” I was so exceedingly perturbed that I lost all hope. After they had filled it in and gone on their way, I prayed to Almighty God and gave myself over to death, relinquishing all hope in human beings. When night fell I heard a movement at the surface of the hole. As I listened to it the mouth of the hole was opened and I saw a large animal like a dragon. It let down its tail to me and I knew that God had sent it to rescue me. I clung on to its tail and it drew me up. Then a voice from the heavens called out to me, “We have saved you from death with death.” ’ ”
* A legendary figure in Islam.