English
The Journey to India and the Folly of Idol Worshippers
In Somnath I saw an idol carved from ivory,
studded with jewels like the pagan goddess Manat of old.
The sculptor had shaped its form so perfectly
that no finer image could ever be made.
From every direction caravans streamed in
to behold that lifeless figure.
Kings of China and Chigil had set their hopes,
like Saadi, on getting loyalty from that stone-hearted idol.
Eloquent men had come from every land,
beseeching that silent thing in prayer.
I was baffled, unable to fathom the mystery:
why should a living soul worship a lifeless object?
There was a Magian priest I had dealings with,
a kind-spoken man, my roommate and friend.
Gently I asked him: Brahmin,
the workings of this place amaze me.
These people are enchanted by this feeble statue,
trapped down in the pit of error.
It has no strength in its hand, no motion in its foot;
knock it down and it cannot rise again.
Don't you see its eyes are made of amber?
Seeking loyalty from stone eyes is a mistake.
At these words my friend turned enemy;
he blazed like fire with rage and lashed out at me.
He alerted the Magians and the temple elders,
and I saw no friendly face in that gathering.
The Zend-chanting fire-worshippers fell upon me
like dogs fighting over that bone.
Since the crooked path was straight in their eyes,
the straight path looked crooked to them.
For however wise and enlightened a man may be,
to the ignorant he seems the fool.
I was left helpless as a drowning man,
seeing no way out but to play along.
When you see the ignorant bent on hatred,
safety lies in yielding and softness.
So I praised the head Brahmin loftily:
Old master, you who expound the Avesta and Zend,
I too am delighted by this idol's image;
its shape is lovely, its stature charming.
Its form strikes me as wondrous to behold,
yet I know nothing of its inner meaning.
For I am only a passing guest of this place;
a stranger can barely tell the good from the bad.
You are the queen of this chessboard,
the counselor to the king of this shrine.
What is the meaning hidden in this idol's form?
For now I am the first among its worshippers.
Worship by blind imitation is a straying;
blessed is the traveler who walks with awareness.
The Brahmin's face lit up with joy;
he approved and said, Well spoken, worthy man.
Your question is sound and your conduct fine;
whoever seeks proof reaches his destination.
I too have traveled much like you,
and seen many idols unaware of themselves,
except this one, which every morning from its place
raises its hands to God the Sustainer.
If you like, stay right here tonight,
and tomorrow this secret will be revealed to you.
By the elder's command I stayed the night there,
trapped like Bijan in the pit of misery.
A night as long as Judgment Day,
with Magians around me at prayer without ablution.
Priests who never let water touch them,
their armpits like carrion left in the sun.
Surely I had committed some great sin,
to endure such painful torment that night.
All night I was caught in this grip of grief,
one hand on my heart, the other lifted in prayer,
when suddenly the drummer struck his kettledrum,
and a rooster crowed from the Brahmin's yard.
The black-robed preacher of night, without dispute,
drew the sword of day from its sheath.
Dawn's fire caught the tinder,
and in a moment a whole world blazed with light.
You would think that in the land of Zanzibar
the Tatars had suddenly burst in from a corner.
The wrongheaded Magians, faces unwashed,
came to the temple from door, field, and street.
Not a man in town nor a woman stayed behind;
there was no room left in that idol-house for a needle.
I was sick with grief and heavy with sleep,
when suddenly the statue raised its hand.
All at once a roar went up from them;
you would think the sea had come to a boil.
When the temple emptied of the crowd,
the Brahmin turned to me with a laugh:
I know no doubt remains for you now;
the truth is clear and falsehood is undone.
When I saw how firmly ignorance held him,
how deeply absurd fantasy was fused into him,
I dared say nothing more of the truth,
for the truth must be hidden from the people of falsehood.
When you see the upper hand holds the power,
it is no manliness to break your own fist against it.
For a while I wept in feigned devotion,
saying I regretted what I had said.
My weeping swayed the hearts of the unbelievers;
no wonder if a stone is worn away by a torrent.
The attendants came running toward me
and took my arm with honor.
Full of apology I approached the ivory figure
seated on a golden stool upon a teakwood throne.
I kissed the little idol's hand,
saying under my breath: curse it and every idol-worshipper.
For a few days I passed as an unbeliever,
playing the Brahmin, versed in the Zend teachings.
When I saw I had become trusted in the temple,
my joy could barely be contained on this earth.
One night I locked the temple tight
and ran left and right like a scorpion.
I searched below the throne and above,
and saw a curtain embroidered with gold.
Behind the curtain crouched a fire-worshipping priest,
keeping watch, the end of a cord in his hand.
At once the whole thing became clear to me,
as iron turned soft as wax in David's hand:
when he pulled the cord, naturally,
the idol would raise its hand as if crying out.
The Brahmin was ashamed before me,
for the stitches showing on his work were a disgrace.
He bolted, I gave chase,
and hurled him headfirst into a well.
For I knew that if that Brahmin lived,
he would work to spill my blood.
He would gladly see me destroyed,
lest I expose his secret.
When you learn of a corrupt schemer's ways,
finish him off once you catch him.
For if you leave that scoundrel alive,
he will never want you to live.
And if he bows in service at your door,
given the chance he will cut off your head.
Do not follow at the deceiver's heels;
once you have gone and seen the truth, give him no mercy.
I killed that wretch completely with a stone,
for the dead tell no tales.
When I saw I had stirred up an uproar,
I abandoned that land and fled.
When you set fire to a reed bed,
beware the lions, if you have any sense.
Do not kill the offspring of a venomous snake,
and once you have, do not linger in that house.
When you have stirred up a wasps' nest,
flee the place before you are stung.
Do not shoot your arrow at one quicker than you;
and if he falls, seize your chance at once.
In Saadi's pages you will not find the counsel
to keep standing once you have undermined the wall.
After that upheaval I came to India,
and from there by way of Yemen to the Hejaz.
Of all the hardships that befell me,
my mouth never tasted sweetness until today,
under the good fortune and support of Abu Bakr Saad,
the like of whom no mother has borne, before or since.
From the tyranny of fate I came seeking justice;
I came for refuge under this sheltering shade.
Like a servant I pray for this reign:
God, keep this shade everlasting,
for he laid on me a balm beyond what my wound required,
a balm worthy of his own bounty and grace.
How can I ever repay this blessing,
even if my head served as feet in his service?
I found relief after those chains,
yet those lessons still ring in my ears.
One is this: whenever I raise my hand in need
to the court of the Knower of secrets,
I remember that Chinese idol,
and it throws dust in the eye of my conceit.
I know that the hand I lifted,
I did not raise by my own power.
It is not the enlightened who lift their hands;
the unseen pulls the string from behind.
The door of goodness and worship stands open,
yet not everyone is able to do good.
This is the very barrier: one cannot enter
the royal court except by the king's command.
The key of destiny is in no one's hand;
the only absolutely powerful one is God alone.
So, you who tread the straight path,
the credit is not yours, it belongs to the Lord.
Since He shaped your nature well in the unseen,
no ugly deed can spring from your character.
The same One who put sweetness in the bee
put venom in the snake.
When He wills to ruin your kingdom,
He first scatters a people in distress through you.
And if He has mercy upon you,
He brings comfort to the people through you.
Do not grow proud upon the path of righteousness;
they took your hand and helped you rise.
The words are useful, if you will listen;
you reach the great ones if you walk the path.
If you are granted entry, you find a station
where they spread for you the feast of honor.
But you must not eat alone;
remember the helpless poor.
Perhaps you will send a mercy after me,
for I am not confident in my own deeds.