The Book of Rumi Read online

  The sense of foreboding was perhaps intensified by the unification a few years earlier of the Turko-Mongol nomadic tribes farther to the east under the leadership of Genghis Khan. How should have the inhabitants of Samarkand responded to the consolidation of Genghis Khan's power? Should they have feared him? Had he not sent emissaries to the ruler of this corner of the Persian empire with messages that sought neighborly trade? The accounts of the Persian historian Juvayni relate that Genghis Khan had greeted the Persian king in correspondence, saying: “I am the sovereign of the lands of the rising sun and thou the sovereign of the lands of setting sun. Let us conclude a firm treaty of friendship and peace.”

  Regardless of such assurances, the Valad family decided that remaining in Samarkand was not an option, and they left the region in 1216 and began an extraordinary journey that came to an end with their arrival in Konya in central Anatolia thirteen years later. During these thirteen years, the then nine-year-old Jalāl od-Din—who just over two decades later would be addressed by the honorific title Mowlana, “our master,” and in centuries to come would be recognized across the world as Rumi, one of the most widely read and revered poets of all time—would travel a distance of more than seven thousand kilometers, meeting scholars, poets, spiritual teachers, princes, wayfarers, and a host of other characters who would appear in the pages of his Masnavi in due course.

  After leaving Khorasan, the Valad family first made their way to the sprawling city of Baghdad, where no doubt the stalls of book dealers and bookbinders and sellers of inks and pens would have been a prime attraction. Perhaps it was in this city, divided by the sacred river Tigris, that a spiritual bond was forged across the centuries between Rumi and Mansur al-Hallāj, a mystical poet who had been gruesomely executed almost three hundred years earlier on the very same riverbanks.

  It is said that while chanting “I am the Truth,” Hallāj was beaten and lashed and hanged and decapitated on the order of the Abbasid caliph, and his remains were set alight on the shores of the river. Legend has it that as his ashes were thrown into the Tigris, the river foamed, and rose, and just when the startled onlookers thought that the city would be flooded, Hallāj's servant threw his now deceased master's robe onto the water, whereby the rapids were calmed, and the river was pacified.

  According to Louis Massignon, a French scholar of Islam who died in 1962, a monument was built on the site of Hallāj's execution, but the structure was finally washed away in the Baghdad floods of 1921. Rumi, in his writing, often pays homage to the memory and teachings of Hallāj.

  Taking their leave of Baghdad, Rumi's family continued their journey to Mecca, and after performing the hajj, set out for Damascus then on to Anatolia and the town of Malatya.

  In Damascus, Jalāl od-Din would have walked the lanes of the gated city in the shadow of the ramparts dating back to Roman times. He would have strolled through the souk, where next to the vendors of sheep and birds and camel paraphernalia there would have been displays of spices, perfumes, and pearls, and glassware, pottery, and cinnabar in small shops. The young Rumi would have undoubtedly been taken to prayers at the Umayyad mosque and perhaps visited the Church of Mary. And all the while, whether consciously or by passive osmosis, he would have registered a host of plots and scenes that would gloss and nourish the body of stories that he would compose in verse before long.

  It was during the family's travels through Syria and his father's meetings with fellow theologians that plans would have been made for Rumi to complete his studies by enrolling in the best madrassas and colleges of divinity, philosophy, and law in the cities of Damascus and Aleppo.

  After spending a short time in the eastern Anatolian town of Malatya in the summer of 1217, the Valad family moved to Erzincan, and four years later to Laranda, the present-day Turkish city of Karaman. The Valads lived in this city until 1229. The young Jalāl od-Din was now a twenty-two-year-old married father of two small boys; the family had no doubt learned that the Mongols had invaded and destroyed the cities of Samarkand and Balkh. The torment of exile would have been compounded by this news of the near destruction of their homeland. A Persian eyewitness sums up the devastation wreaked by the Mongols on the city: “They came, they sapped, they burned, they slew, they plundered, and they departed.”

  After living in Karaman for seven years, Rumi, his elderly father, and the rest of the family set off once again, this time to Konya, a relatively short one hundred kilometers to the north. Konya became their final destination.

  After the death of his father in 1231, Rumi returned to Aleppo to complete his studies before coming back to Konya and taking on his father's position as the head of the madrassa in 1237. Having excelled at academic studies, Rumi seemed to have been destined for an uneventful life of teaching his pupils, as he himself had been taught. However, his seismic encounter with Shams, the Sun of Tabriz, in November 1244 changed the course of Rumi's teachings and writings beyond the comprehension of most of his contemporaries.

  The meeting between the thirty-seven-year-old erudite pupil of juris-prudence, Rumi, and the nearly sixty-year-old, often acerbic, peripatetic Sufi master, Shams, culminated in an intellectually and emotionally intimate friendship, which, although short lived, was a catalyst for the composition of some of the most beautiful lyrical odes and one of the longest single-authored narrative poems that has ever been written in any language. The six-volume Masnavi, in addition to his forty thousand ecstatic hymns to love collected under the title Divan of Shams, are Rumi's major works upon which rests his global reputation.

  Rumi's voice in all his literary output, but particularly in the Masnavi, alternates between playful and authoritative, whether he's telling stories of ordinary lives or inviting the discerning reader to higher levels of introspection and attainment of transcendent values. Maryam Mafi's translations delicately reflect the nuances of Rumi's poetry while retaining the positive tone of all Rumi's writings, as well as the sense of suspense and drama that mark the essence of the Masnavi.

  The Book of Rumi is another gem in Maryam Mafi's series of translations, which salutes the universality of Mowlana both as a poet and as a storyteller. I can think of no better tribute to the legacy of Rumi than Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's assessment of what makes a great poet:

  All that is best in the great poets of all countries is not what is national in them, but what is universal. Their roots are in their native soil; but their branches wave in the unpatriotic air, that speaks the same language unto men, and their leaves shine with the illimitable light that pervades all lands.

  NARGUESS FARZAD

  INTRODUCTION

  Our essential need to gather together, paired with our compelling desire to share our experiences, thoughts, dreams, and entertainment, ultimately culminates in the act of storytelling. Stories are an ingrained part of lives everywhere, and in fact life is a series of successive stories with endless changing promises and surprises. Every experience in life embraces a backstory that may illumine and interpret the meaning of our lives. Like all skillful and worthwhile stories, ancient Sufi stories continue to be relevant to our lives today, because they're universal and timeless. The universality of a good story serves to demonstrate that we're not so different from our counterparts across the globe, which in turn prompts us to empathize with the “other” to the extent that we will eventually feel as the “other”; thus, respect and empathy are the inevitable by-products of this process.

  Rumi's stories are a prime example of the perfectly timeless Sufi story, with a core message that is unvaried and that remains pertinent to us even in the mad rush of today's technologically driven world. Rumi's teaching stories are the core of his Masnavi, in which he raises commonsense issues that people grapple with regularly, but he concentrates on their hidden spiritual aspect, transforming them into profound Sufi lessons. In the Masnavi, Rumi includes many animal stories as well, mostly derived from other literary traditions, but he alters them somewhat to suit his purpose and prove his point.
br />   We live in a fast age; everything moves more quickly—our cars drive faster, our appliances work more efficiently, we can access people across the globe on our mobiles for free, and of course we have the Internet, which itself transmits at ever increasing speeds. Living in rapidly evolving societies, where every minute counts and people never seem to have enough downtime, one can't expect that many people would choose to read long, unfamiliar, and perhaps tedious works of literature or commentary, regardless of how enriching or essential they may be.

  By translating Rumi's works, I hope to reach out to people who may have never heard of him, especially the younger generation. But Rumi's longer, difficult, winding stories may not be the best introduction to his works, even though they contain deeply intense moral, psychological, and spiritual lessons that are well worth the attention of the dedicated reader. But Rumi wrote many short pieces that are equally complex and morally significant in their own way. Believing that these short works are more suitable as an introduction to Rumi and hoping that readers will be inspired to then seek out all of his works, including the longer pieces, I've decided to confine the present volume to Rumi's short stories.

  I realized some years ago that every time I read a Rumi story, which he composed in verse, in my mind I instinctively turned it into prose as I was processing it. Throughout the years, many readers who are generally interested in spirituality but who are not great fans of poetry have expressed their disappointment in being unable to take full advantage of Rumi because of their lack of connection with poetry. With them in mind, as well as all Rumi lovers, I present this volume as a collection of Rumi's short stories translated into prose for broader accessibility.

  Ritual has historically been an essential part of any society in which citizens come together to share meaningful experiences. Carrying out rituals that have connected people for millennia instills behaviors and thought patterns that shape the character of a people within their society. In Sufism, where ritual is taken extremely seriously, Sufis practice zikr, in which one or more of the ninety-nine names of God are repeated rhythmically for a certain length of time. The ritual is so profound that the practitioner can transcend beyond the present world and into the lap of God. It may not be possible for us today to attend zikr ceremonies regularly or at all, depending on where we live. We can, however, connect with the essence of zikr wherever we are.

  I believe that connecting to Rumi on a regular, daily basis helps one, as in zikr, to transcend the interfering ego and lift one to a higher and purer level of consciousness. I have personally made a ritual of reading a few verses of the Masnavi every morning before I begin my day to help me face the assault of the Internet and other modern-day forms of instant communication. If I can manage to practice yoga after reading from the Masnavi, I know that I will be guaranteed a serene and balanced mind and body to welcome the new day. The value of ritual, though, is in adhering to it, following it passionately, and not breaking the flow; this persistence in the practice of ritual is the greatest challenge. Reading one Rumi short story per day could easily become anyone's ritual.

  To gather together a collection of stories that suits the taste of every reader is an impossible task. Yet in Rumi's stories, we come across such a vast and impressive spectrum of subjects, each with its unique appeal, that modern-day readers from diverse backgrounds and dissimilar walks of life are bound to find something of interest within. I'm confident that every reader will succeed in finding not one but many stories by Rumi to satisfy their curiosity for meaningful spiritual lessons, often sprinkled with sly humor.

  The Parrot and the Grocer

  There was once a grocer who owned a handsome green parrot who sang sublimely and spoke most eloquently. The parrot was not only an ideal companion but also the perfect guard for the grocer's shop. He kept watch all hours of the day and spoke amiably with the customers, entertaining them and thus increasing the grocer's sales.

  One day when the grocer left the shop in the parrot's care, having gone home for lunch, a cat suddenly ran into the shop chasing a mouse, frightening the bird. As the parrot flew about in his effort to save himself, he knocked a few bottles of almond oil off the shelves, breaking them and covering himself and the shop floor in oil.

  Not long afterward, the grocer returned and found the place in disarray, the floor slippery with oil and the parrot perching guiltily in a corner. In the wink of an eye, the grocer lost his temper and hit the bird on the head with all his might. The poor bird, who was already feeling guilty and downtrodden about his clumsiness, could not bear the shame, not to mention the pain from the blow, and he instantly shed all the feathers on his head.

  Soon after the almond oil incident, the parrot completely stopped speaking and singing. The grocer realized how grave his mistake had been in striking the bird; not only had he lost his jolly companion but he had also curtailed his thriving business. Having no one but himself to blame, he now felt dumbfounded that he had singlehandedly threatened his very livelihood.

  “I wish I'd broken my hand!” he lamented. “How could I have struck my sweet-voiced bird like that? How could I have behaved so monstrously?”

  The grocer began to give alms to each and every poor darvish who passed by his shop, hoping that by doing good deeds he might be forgiven, and his bird might again start to exercise his mesmerizing voice. After three days and nights of remorse and suffering the parrot's silence, the grocer came into luck. A bald darvish walked into the shop, and instantly the parrot began to speak: “Did you spill bottles of almond oil, too?”

  The handful of customers in the shop were amused and smiled at the parrot, who had innocently thought that the bald man had suffered the same fate as himself!

  “Darling little parrot,” said one of the customers compassionately, “never equate one action with another. One must never compare oneself to others, even though they may appear to be the same on the surface; truly nothing is as it seems!”

  The Angel of Death

  Solomon, the wise prophet, held daily audiences during which he listened to his subjects' complaints and tried to address their problems. One morning, as he was listening to one person after another, a distraught man hurled himself into the great court. Solomon noticed how distressed the man was and beckoned him forward. Grateful for being invited to the front of the queue, the man fell to his knees before the great benefactor.

  “What seems to be causing you such anguish, my dear fellow?” asked Solomon compassionately.

  “The Angel of Death, my lord! I saw him a minute ago as I was crossing the street. He glared at me with such disdain that my heart nearly stopped!”

  “We all know that Azrael takes his orders only from God and never wavers in his duties,” asserted the great prophet. “Now tell me, what would you have me do?”

  “I beg of you, my life's in your hands. Please tell the wind to carry me to India, where I'll be safe from the Angel's harm.”

  Promptly Solomon ordered the East Wind to carry the nearly paralyzed man to India and lay him down wherever he chose. He then duly returned to his other subjects' unattended affairs.

  The following day when he returned to court, Solomon caught a glimpse of the Angel of Death among the crowd. He motioned the Angel to approach and asked him: “Why do you frighten people with that wrathful look, to the point that they abandon their livelihood and forsake their homes and family? What had that poor man done yesterday to deserve your crushing glare?”

  Azrael was surprised. “My lord, I didn't look at him wrathfully at all! In fact, I was astonished to see him!” he said. “God had commanded me to take his pitiful life today in India, and I couldn't imagine, even if he had a million wings, how was he to get there on time. I was startled and gazed at him with surprise, not anger!”

  When you look at everything in life with the eyes of want and greed, whom do you hope to escape? Yourself? God? Is that possible?

  The Fly Who Thought She Was a Sailor

  A poor donkey had been patie
ntly carrying his heavy load all day long without a moment's respite. He had not even been allowed to stop to pee. Finally, his owner reached his destination, and the donkey was relieved of the merchandise heaped on his back. Free at last from his burden, the beast happily emptied his full bladder.

  A short distance away, a tiny fly was resting on a leaf lying on the ground. The donkey's urine, flowing downstream, began to carry the leaf with the fly on it. The fly was initially taken aback, not quite understanding what was happening. After a little while, though, she began to believe: “I'm sailing away on the sea. I'm the captain of this ship, and what a perfectly seasoned navigator I am! Who dares to stop me now?”

  The fly was gloating in her pride, floating on the stream of urine, believing that she was sailing the seven seas. Unbeknown to her, she was still the same lowly fly she'd always been, driven along by the furious pace of the urine's flow, unaware that nothing truly is as it seems.

  Merchant and Parrot

  Many years ago, a Persian merchant was given a beautiful parrot as a gift by his Indian trading partners. He kept the parrot in a formidable cage, where he could watch her and listen to her melodious song every day when he rested after his long hours at work. The time of year came when he normally traveled to India on a buying trip, and as is customary he asked his household help what they wanted him to bring back as gifts for them. Each person asked for something close to his or her heart, and so did the little green parrot.