The Story of the King and the Handmaiden

O friends, hear this tale; ˹for˺ in truth it is the reflection of our ˹inward˺ state.

In a time before this, there was a king who had the kingdom of this world and the kingdom of faith as well.

It happened that one day the king rode out with his close courtiers to go hunting.

On the king’s highway the king saw a handmaiden; the king’s soul became the slave of that handmaiden.

Since the bird of his soul was fluttering in the cage ˹of the body˺, he gave wealth and bought that handmaiden.

When he had bought her and enjoyed ˹union with˺ her, by ˹divine˺ decree that handmaiden fell ill.

˹For instance,˺ a man had a donkey but no packsaddle; ˹as soon as˺ he found a packsaddle, the wolf ˹came and˺ carried off the donkey.

˹Or another˺ had a jug, but no water would come to hand; when he found the water, the jug itself broke.

The king gathered the physicians from left and right and said, “The life of us both is in your hands.”

“My life matters little; she is the soul of my soul. I am in pain and wounded; she is my cure.”

“Whoever heals my soul will carry off my treasure and my pearls and coral.”

They all said to him, “We will risk our lives, gather our understanding and work as one.”

“Each of us is a ˹healing˺ Messiah for a world; for every pain there is a balm in our hands.”

Out of arrogance they did not say “if God wills”; so God showed them the helplessness of humankind.

By abandoning the exception ˹or not saying “if God wills”˺ I mean a hardness of heart, not the mere saying ˹with the tongue˺, which is a ˹superficial and˺ passing state.

How many a one there is who has not uttered the exception, ˹yet˺ whose soul is joined to its soul.

Whatever they did by way of cure and remedy, the illness grew and the need went unfulfilled.

From illness that handmaiden became ˹thin˺ as a hair; the king’s eyes became like a stream from tears of blood.

By ˹divine˺ decree oxymel increased the bile, and almond oil was producing dryness.

From myrobalan came constipation, and relief ceased. Water fed the fire ˹of the illness˺ like oil.

When the king saw the helplessness of those physicians, he ran barefoot towards the mosque.

He entered the mosque and went towards the mihrab ˹, the prayer niche˺; the place of prostration was flooded with the king’s tears.

When he came to himself out of the flood of annihilation ˹or selflessness before God˺, he loosed his tongue sweetly in praise and glorification ˹of God˺.

saying, “O ˹God,˺ whose least gift is the kingdom of the world, what shall I say, since You know what is hidden?”

“O You who are always the refuge of our need, once again we have lost the way.”

“But You said, ‘Though I know your secret, at once make it plain on your outward being too.’”

When he raised a cry ˹of lament˺ from the depths of his soul, the sea of Forgiveness ˹and Mercy˺ surged.

In the midst of weeping ˹and lament˺ sleep carried him off; he saw in a dream that an elder ˹of spiritual rank˺ appeared.

He said, “O king, good tidings! Your prayers are granted. If tomorrow a stranger comes to you, he is from us.”

“When he comes, he is a skilled physician; know him to be truthful, for he is trustworthy and truthful.”

“In his cure see absolute magic; in his temperament see the Power of God.”

When that promised hour arrived and day broke, the sun ˹rose˺ from the east and burned away the stars.

The king was waiting in the lookout ˹of the palace˺ to see what had been shown to him in secret.

He saw a man of great learning and worth, a sun amidst a shadow.

He was approaching from afar like the new moon; he was ˹both˺ nonexistent and existent, in the form of imagination.

In the ˹human˺ soul imagination is like something that both is and is not; ˹yet˺ see a world moving upon an imagining.

Their peace and their war are ˹founded˺ upon an imagining, and their pride and their shame are ˹born˺ of an imagining.

˹Yet˺ those imaginings that are the snare of the friends of God are the reflection of the moon-faced beauties of the garden of God.

That imagining which the king had seen in his dream was appearing in the face of the guest.

Instead of the chamberlains, the king stepped forward; he went to meet the guest from his own unseen.

Both were seafarers who had learned to swim ˹in the sea of Truth˺; both souls were sewn together without sewing.

˹The king˺ said, “You have been my ˹true˺ beloved, not that ˹handmaiden˺; but in the world deed arises from deed.”

“O you who are Mustafa to me, while I am like Umar — I gird myself ˹with resolve˺ to serve you.”

Let us seek from God the blessing of reverence; the irreverent one is deprived of the Lord’s Grace.

The irreverent one does not harm himself alone, but sets fire to the whole world.

A table of food was coming down from heaven, without buying or selling and without a word spoken or heard.

Among the people of Moses a few irreverent ones said, “Where are the garlic and lentils?”

The table and the bread from heaven were cut off; the toil of sowing and spade and sickle remained for us.

Again, when Jesus interceded, God sent a table and bounty on a tray.

Again the insolent abandoned reverence and, like beggars, carried off the leftovers.

Jesus implored them, “This is lasting and will not grow less on the earth.”

Suspicion and giving in to greed before the table of Majesty are ingratitude.

Because of those greedy impudent wretches, that gate of ˹divine˺ Mercy was closed upon them.

Because of withholding ˹obligatory˺ almsgiving (zakat) no cloud rises, and from adultery plague ˹or epidemic˺ breaks out in all directions.

Whatever comes upon you of darkness and sorrow, that too is from recklessness and insolence.

Whoever acts recklessly in the path of the Friend becomes a highwayman who robs the men ˹of God˺, and he is no man.

Through reverence this heaven has become full of light, and through reverence the angels became sinless and pure.

The eclipse of the sun was from insolence; ˹even one like˺ Azazil was turned back from the door ˹of God˺ out of audacity.

˹The king˺ opened his arms and embraced him; like love, he took him into his heart and soul.

He began to kiss his hand and brow, and to ask about his station and the road ˹of his journey˺.

Asking question after question, he drew him to the seat of honour; he said, “At last, through patience, I have found a treasure.”

He said, “O Light of God and remover of hardship, O meaning of ‘Patience is the key to relief’!”

“O you whose meeting is the answer to every question; through you the difficulty is solved without debate.”

“You are the interpreter of all that is in our hearts; you are the one who takes the hand of everyone whose foot is stuck in the mire ˹of the material world˺.”

“Welcome, O chosen one, O approved one! If you become absent, ˹divine˺ decree comes and the wide expanse grows narrow.”

“You are the master of these people; whoever does not desire ˹you˺ has perished. ‘But no! If he does not desist’…”

When that gathering and the table of generosity were over, ˹the king˺ took his hand and led him into the private quarters.

He recounted the tale of the patient and the illness; after that he seated him beside the patient.

˹The divine physician˺ observed the colour of her face, her pulse and her urine; he heard both her symptoms and their causes.

He said, “Every remedy that they ˹the physicians˺ have applied is no restoration; they have brought ruin.”

“They were unaware of ˹her˺ inner state; I seek refuge in God from what they fabricate.”

He saw the suffering, and what was hidden was unveiled to him, but he concealed it and did not tell the king.

Her illness was not from yellow or black bile; the smell of every firewood appears from its smoke.

From her lamenting he saw that she was sick at heart; her body was well, and she was stricken in the heart.

Being in love is evident from the lamentation of the heart; there is no illness like the illness of the heart.

The lover’s ailment is set apart from all ˹other˺ ailments; Love is the astrolabe of the secrets of God.

Loverhood, whether from this side ˹or earthly˺ or from that side ˹or heavenly˺, in the end is our guide to that side.

Whatever explanation and exposition I give of Love, when I come to Love ˹itself˺ I am ashamed of it.

Though the commentary of the tongue makes ˹things˺ clear, tongueless Love is clearer.

While the pen was hastening in writing, as soon as it came to Love, the pen split upon itself.

In explaining it, reason lay down like a donkey in the mud; it was Love ˹itself˺ that gave the explanation of love and loverhood.

˹For instance,˺ the proof of the sun is the sun; if you need a proof, do not turn your face from it.

If the shadow gives a sign of it, the Sun every moment gives life-giving light.

The shadow, like a night-time tale, brings you sleep; when the Sun rises, “the moon was split ˹in two˺”.

There is nothing in the world so strange ˹and peerless˺ as the sun; the Sun of the soul is everlasting and has no yesterday.

Though the sun is unique in the outer world, still one can picture a likeness of it ˹in the mind˺.

˹But˺ the Sun of the soul, which transcends the ether, has no equal ˹or match˺, neither in the mind nor in the outer world.

Where is there room in the imagination for His essence, that a likeness of Him should enter the imagination?

When talk of the face ˹and essence˺ of Shams al-Din ˹Tabrizi˺ arrived, the sun of the fourth heaven ˹in shame˺ drew in its head.

Since his name has come up, it is necessary to set forth a hint of his bounties.

At this moment my soul has caught hold of my skirt ˹and implores˺; ˹for˺ it has caught the scent of Joseph’s shirt.

˹Husam al-Din said,˺ “For the sake of years of companionship, recount one of those delightful states.”

“So that earth and heaven may laugh, and intellect, soul and the eye ˹of the heart˺ may grow a hundredfold.”

˹I said,˺ “Do not put me to the task, for I am in annihilation ˹and selflessness˺; my understandings have grown dull, so I cannot count praise.”

“Everything said by one ˹drunk and˺ not sober, whether with strain or with boastful pretence, is unbecoming.”

“What can I say—not a single vein of mine is sober—in describing that Friend who has no friend ˹or peer˺?”

“Leave the description of this severance and this ˹drinking of˺ heart’s blood for now, until another time.”

He ˹Husam al-Din˺ said, “Feed me, for I am hungry, and make haste, for time is like a cutting sword ˹that cuts off life˺.”

“O friend! The Sufi is the child of the present moment; saying ‘tomorrow’ is not among the conditions of the path.”

“Are you not yourself a Sufi, then? On credit, what is ˹in hand˺ comes to nothing.”

I said to him ˹Husam al-Din˺, “The secret of the Beloved is better veiled; listen ˹for it˺ yourself within the folds of the tale.”

“It is better that the secret of the beloveds be told in the talk of others.”

He ˹Husam al-Din˺ said, “Tell this openly and nakedly; ˹for˺ talk of religion is better open than hidden.”

“Lift the veil and speak nakedly, for I do not sleep with the Beloved with a shirt on.”

I said, “If He were to become naked in plain sight, neither would you remain, nor would your embrace, nor would any distance ˹between you˺.”

“Desire what you will, but desire within measure; ˹for˺ a single blade of straw cannot bear a mountain.”

“The sun by which this world is lit: if it comes a little nearer, everything burns.”

“Do not seek trouble, turmoil and bloodshed; say no more of Shams Tabrizi.”

This ˹mystery˺ has no end; ˹so˺ speak of the beginning; go and recount this story to its end.

He ˹the divine physician˺ said, “O king, empty the house and send away both kin and strangers.”

“Let no one stand listening in the entrance-halls, so that I may ask this handmaiden certain things.”

The house was left empty, and not a soul remained but the ˹divine˺ physician and that same sick ˹handmaiden˺.

He said ˹to the handmaiden˺ slowly and gently, “Where is your city? For the cure of the people of each city is distinct.”

“And who in that city is related to you? With whom do you have bonds of kinship and attachment?”

He placed his hand on her pulse and, one by one, kept asking about the cruelty of fate ˹and all that had befallen her˺.

˹For instance,˺ when a thorn darts into someone’s foot, he rests his foot upon his knee ˹to find it˺,

and with the point of a needle he keeps searching for its tip; and if he cannot find it, he keeps moistening ˹the spot˺ with his lips.

When a thorn in the foot is this hard to find, how ˹then˺ is it with a thorn in the heart? Give an answer!

If every base soul saw the thorn in the heart, when would sorrows gain a hold on anyone?

˹In another example,˺ someone puts a thorn under a donkey’s tail; the donkey does not know how to rid itself of it, ˹so˺ it jumps about.

It jumps about ˹in its ignorance˺, and that thorn digs in more firmly; a wise one is needed to pull a thorn out.

To rid itself of the thorn, the donkey, out of burning and pain, kept kicking, and inflicted wounds in a hundred places.

˹But˺ that ˹divine˺ physician was a master at drawing out thorns ˹from the heart˺; he touched here and there, testing.

In the manner of a tale, he kept asking that handmaiden how her friends were.

She openly told the ˹divine˺ physician tales of where she had lived, of her masters, and of her fellow townspeople.

He ˹the divine physician˺ kept his ear on her telling of tales and his mind on her pulse and its throbbing.

So that ˹he might see˺ at whose name the pulse would leap, ˹and know that˺ that one is the object of her soul’s desire in the world.

He listed her friends in her city; after that, he named another city.

He said, “When you left your own city, in which city have you been the longest?”

He ˹the divine physician˺ named a city and passed on from that one too; ˹but˺ the colour of her face and her pulse did not change.

He told of the masters and the cities one by one, of place and of bread and salt ˹or hospitality˺.

City by city and house by house he told tales; neither did her vein stir nor her face turn pale.

Her pulse kept to its own state, untroubled, until he asked about Samarkand, ˹sweet˺ as sugar.

Her pulse leapt, and her face turned red and pale, for she had been parted from a goldsmith of Samarkand.

When that ˹divine˺ physician learned this secret from the patient, he discovered the origin of that pain and affliction.

He said, “Which is his quarter in passing?” She said, “Sar-i Pul ˹Bridgehead˺, and the Ghatafar quarter.”

He said, “I know what your illness is; soon I will work magic to set you free.”

“Be glad, at ease, and safe, for I will do for you what rain ˹does˺ for a meadow.”

“I sorrow for you; you, do not sorrow. I am more tender towards you than a hundred fathers.”

“Take heed, take heed! Do not tell this secret to anyone, even if the king questions you a great deal.”

“When your secrets are hidden in your heart, that wish of yours will be fulfilled sooner.”

The Prophet said that whoever keeps his secret hidden will soon be joined with his wish.

˹For instance,˺ when a seed is hidden in the earth, its secret becomes the greenness of the garden.

˹Or˺ if gold and silver were not hidden, when would they be nurtured within the mine?

The promises and kindnesses of that ˹divine˺ physician made that patient safe from fear.

There are true promises that are heart-pleasing, and there are false promises that are distressing.

The promise of the generous is a flowing treasure; the promise of the unworthy becomes torment of the soul.

Then he ˹the divine physician˺ rose and set out for the king, and let the king know a little of that ˹illness˺.

He said, “The plan is that we bring that man ˹the goldsmith˺ here for ˹the cure of˺ this pain.”

“Summon the goldsmith from that distant town ˹Samarkand˺, and beguile him with gold and a robe of honour.”

The king sent one or two messengers that way, skilled, competent and very just.

Those two amirs came as far as Samarkand, bringing good news to that goldsmith from the king of kings.

˹They said,˺ “O master of fine craft, perfect in knowledge ˹of your work˺, your merit is openly spoken of in the cities.”

“Now such-and-such a king has chosen you for goldsmith’s work, because you excel ˹in this craft˺.”

“Here, take this robe of honour, and gold and silver; when you come, you will be a favourite and boon companion ˹of the king˺.”

The man saw much wealth and many robes of honour; he was beguiled and parted from his town and children.

The man set out on the road joyfully, unaware that the king had designs on his life.

He mounted an Arabian horse and rode off gladly; he took the price of his own blood for a robe of honour.

O you who, with full consent, have set out of your own accord, on your own feet, on a journey towards an evil decree!

In his fancy were kingship, honour and greatness; Azrael said ˹mockingly˺, “Go; yes, you will win ˹your wish˺!”

When that stranger arrived from the road, the ˹divine˺ physician took him in before the king.

They brought him with honour to the king of kings, so that ˹like a moth˺ he might burn over the candle of Taraz ˹, that is, the beautiful handmaiden˺.

The king saw him, honoured him greatly and entrusted the treasury of gold to him.

Then the ˹divine˺ physician said to him, “O great sultan, give that handmaiden to this man.”

“So that the handmaiden may get well in union with him, and the water of union with him may quench that fire ˹of illness˺.”

The king granted that moon-faced beauty to him and joined together the two who sought companionship.

For six months they were enjoying their desire, until the girl was fully restored to health.

After that he ˹the divine physician˺ made a potion for him ˹the goldsmith˺; as soon as he drank, he was melting away before the girl.

When through illness his beauty did not remain, the girl’s soul did not remain captive to him.

As soon as he became ugly, sickly and pale-faced, little by little he grew cold in her heart.

Loves that are for the sake of a colour are not love; in the end they are a disgrace.

If only that ˹love of colour˺ too had been wholly a disgrace, so that that evil judgement would not have been passed on him ˹the goldsmith˺.

Blood ran like a stream from his eye; his ˹handsome˺ face became the enemy of his life.

˹For instance,˺ the peacock’s enemy is its plumage; how many a king has been killed by his splendour!

He ˹the goldsmith˺ said, “I am that musk deer for whose navel this hunter shed my pure blood.”

“Ah, I am that fox of the desert whose head they cut off from ambush for the sake of a fur coat.”

“Ah, I am that elephant whose blood was shed by the mahout’s blow for the sake of the bone ˹, that is, ivory˺.”

“He who has killed me for something lower than I does not know that my blood does not sleep.”

“Today it ˹the harm˺ is upon me, and tomorrow upon him; when does the blood of one like me go to waste like this?”

“˹For instance,˺ although the wall casts a long shadow, that shadow turns back again towards it ˹the wall˺.”

“This world is like a mountain, and our deeds like a call; the echo of the calls comes back to us.”

He ˹the goldsmith˺ said this and in that instant went beneath the earth; the handmaiden was purified of love and suffering.

For the love of the dead does not endure, for one who is dead does not come back to us.

The love of the living in the soul and in the sight is at every moment fresher than a bud.