Layla and Majnun (14 page)

M
ajnun’s letter did not ease Layla’s heartache; indeed, it served only to increase her sadness and prolong her suffering. Majnun did not want this; his only intention was to torture himself with his bitter lamentations and sorrowful reproaches. In his heart of hearts, however, he knew the truth, and at the end of his letter he admitted as much. He asked Layla to forgive him, saying that although he had suspected her, he knew deep down that no one had conquered her fortress …

Layla, for her part, understood only too well how her beloved was thinking. She did not feel hurt by his suspicions; she felt hurt only because he had hurt himself so deeply. 

She was also hurt by envy, for it was true, she envied him his freedom. He in his desert wilderness
could be as wild and as free as he wished, while she was a prisoner. She had been a prisoner for as long as she could remember: first of her father, now of her husband.

True, she had been loved, spoiled, wooed and courted — but she remained a prisoner nonetheless. Her husband complied with her request that she should never be touched by him, yet he nurtured hopes of being able to wear down her resistance and win her with his tenderness, enclosing her for ever in the walled citadel of his love. And so he waited, guarding jealously the one gate that he had been forbidden to enter. And Layla waited, too …

Until one dark, moonless night — a night that Layla sensed was no ordinary night — the guard outside her tent fell into a deep sleep and she was able to escape! But where could she go? Following a voice in her heart, she moved through the darkness until she found herself at the edge of a palm grove where two paths met — the very same spot, in fact, where she had once given the old horseman a letter to take to Majnun. ‘Who knows?’ whispered the voice in her heart, ‘maybe your prayers will be answered and you will receive word from him again here.’

And that indeed is what came to pass. As soon as she reached the crossroads she saw a figure in the darkness ahead of her, a figure whose steps, like hers, seemed to have been guided there by some strange power of the heart. She knew almost immediately that it was the old man. But who was he? Could it be that this was Khidr, God’s messenger himself? Little did she care, for she had known in her heart that she
would meet him here; his true identity did not matter in the least.

Unhesitatingly, she stepped forward and said, ‘What news do you bring from heaven, old man? What does my wild love do, out there in his desert wilderness? Around whom do his dreams revolve? And what does he say?’

The old man did not seem surprised to see her, nor was he taken aback by her words. Softly, and with great tenderness, he replied, ‘Without the radiance of your moon-like beauty, the one about whom you enquire is like the young Joseph at the bottom of the well. His soul is like the ocean in the middle of a winter’s night, whipped up by a thousand storms under a moonless sky. Like some herald possessed, he roams the mountainside, screaming and shouting.

‘And there is but one word on his lips, and that is “Layla”. Layla is all he seeks. And so lost is he in this search that he no longer knows himself. He is on the road to nowhere, for there is no goal left but Layla.’  

When Layla heard this, her eyes brimmed with tears and she became like a reed that sounds the plaintive melody of love unrequited. She said, ‘The blame is all mine: I am the one who has set fire to my lover’s heart and reduced his whole being to ashes! How I wish that I could be with him in his time of trouble! Yet we suffer in different ways. I am the one who is trapped like Joseph in the well; Majnun is free, free to wander the mountains while I am held captive in the valley! I must see him; I will see him!”  

Taking the jewels from her ear-rings, she kissed
them and handed them to the old man, saying, ‘These are for you, as a reward for your troubles. Now, go to Majnun and bring him here. I want only to see him, to look upon his face for a little while, to bathe in the light of his countenance for but a moment!

‘How else can I know how things are with him? How else can I know whether he is still loyal to me? Who knows, perhaps he will recite a few verses for me, verses that no one else has heard before. Perhaps if I listen to his verses, the magic of his words will unravel the knot of longing in my soul.’

The old man tied her jewels into his sash and, kissing the tears from her eyes, bade Layla farewell. Then he rode off into the night, Layla’s hopes and fears riding invisible alongside him.

From oasis to oasis he rode, asking and searching, but there was no one to point him to Majnun. Fate alone was to be his guide. Finally, he found the wild recluse at the foot of a mountain, surrounded by savage beasts, his face as sorrowful as that of a jeweller whose stock has been stolen by thieves.

As soon as he saw the old man, Majnun jumped up and went forward to greet him, ordering his snarling beasts not to attack. The old man dismounted and they embraced; Majnun looked as though he had been given the earth, so happy was he to see such a welcome guest. The old man prostrated himself with the deference due to a shah or sultan, invoked God’s blessings on Majnun and began to speak:

‘You are the King of love, Majnun, and may your reign endure as long as love itself! I have been sent here
by Layla, whose beauty is the eighth wonder of the world. She values the love you share more than she values her own life. And since much time has passed since she last saw your face or heard your voice, she wishes to see you, to meet your eyes with her own, if only for a moment.

‘Would it not also make you happy to see her again? Could you not bring yourself to break your vows of separation from the world to look upon her tearful face, just for a second? To whisper some sweet verses that would still the stormy ocean of her young heart, to relive what has become just a memory, to reawaken that which has become part of the past?

‘Do not worry, no one will see you. I know of a garden where there are thick palm trees that will protect you both from prying eyes. There will be nothing above you but the indigo dome of the heavens, nothing beneath your feet but a carpet of emerald green. Come, come quickly, for spring awaits you there; spring, and the key to Fate’s talisman …’

The old man opened his bag, took out a cloak and gave it to Majnun to wear. Majnun stood there, dumbfounded by what he had heard. Would it really be possible to catch a glimpse of paradise while still on earth? Would it really be possible to taste eternal bliss while still in the realm of time?

‘Little does this old man understand me,’ thought Majnun. ‘Little does anyone understand me, Majnun the “madman”! Do they not realise that their idea of happiness is not mine? Do they not see that while it may be possible for them to have their wishes granted
in this life, my longing is something else entirely, something that cannot possibly be fulfilled while I remain in this transient world?’

Nevertheless, this was an opportunity that Majnun could not resist, an offer that he could not refuse. How, pray, could he ignore the call of his beloved Layla? And so he let the old man dress him for the journey; then, when they were ready, they set off into the desert, Majnun’s caravan of beasts in tow.

The nearer they came to the place where Layla was waiting, the more Majnun shivered with delight and trembled with desire. Impatiently, he goaded his mount to move faster.

It was as though the well-spring of the water of life itself was tempting him from the horizon; it was as though the wind was wafting the scent of his beloved under his nose to spur him on; it was as though he was dying of thirst while the Tigris itself shimmered in the distance, ever receding from his grasp. Majnun wondered whether Fate would be kind to them, just this once …

Eventually, Majnun and his guide reached the palm grove where his animals were to camp and await their master’s return. As dusk fell, Majnun went into the garden and sat down under a palm tree to wait, while the old man left to give the pre-arranged signal to Layla.

Layla, alone in her tent, saw the old man approach and, donning her veil, rushed out to meet him. Her heart was torn between fear, doubt and hope: she had waited so long, cried so many tears — she knew exactly what
she was risking by seeing Majnun like this, but see him she must. Protected by her veil and the falling dusk, Layla acknowledged the old man with a nod and flew past him into the garden.

She saw him straight away, but she stopped before she reached the palm tree beneath which he was sitting. Her whole body was trembling and it was as though she was rooted to the spot. No more than twenty paces separated her from her beloved, but it was as though a sorceror had drawn a magic circle whose bounds she must not overstep.

The old man, who had by now caught up with her, took her by the arm as though to lead her forward. She said courteously, ‘Noble sir, this far, but no further. Even now I am like a burning candle; one step closer to the fire and I shall be consumed completely. For proximity brings disaster; for lovers there is safety only in separation.

‘Nearness is bliss, that is true, but it is a honey that conceals poison. Why should I ask for more? Even Majnun, the King of love, does not ask for more. Go to him! Go to him and ask him to recite some of his verses to me. Let him sing of love; I shall be all ears. Let him be the cup-bearer; I shall drink of his wine.’

The old man obeyed, but when he approached the quiet figure under the palm tree he saw that Majnun’s face was totally drained of colour, his eyes glassy and staring, tears streaming down his cheeks.

The old man took Majnun in his arms and stroked his face until he was himself again. Then he pulled him to his feet, brushed his hair out of his eyes and pointed
in Layla’s direction. As soon as their eyes met, Majnun felt life course back through his veins. Then, without thinking, he opened his mouth and the verses Layla had asked for began to flow from his lips.

H
e sang:

Layla listened in awe as Majnun continued to recite poem after poem. Suddenly, he fell silent. Then, with a cry, he jumped up and fled out of the garden and into the desert like a shadow. True, Majnun was intoxicated with the scent of the wine, but he knew that such wine may be tasted only in paradise.

B
y this time the merchants and their caravans had returned, bringing Majnun’s verses with them from the deserts and into the streets and markets of the town. Now in Baghdad, on the banks of the Tigris, there lived a youth known as Salam, a young man of considerable beauty and intelligence who had known the pains of unrequited love.

Understandably his love of poetry was great, and as soon as he heard of Majnun and his love-songs for Layla, his imagination was captured.

‘I must find this Majnun, this “madman”,’ he thought. ‘Wherever he is, I must find him and talk to him, for he too has suffered in love and can understand my plight.’ And so he packed a bag, mounted a camel and rode off into Bedouin country without further ado.

For days he roamed the desert wastes, asking and searching, until eventually he came upon a poor wretch, naked from head to foot, whom he took instantly to be the very Majnun he was looking for. When Majnun saw Salam approaching, he knew that the youth must have spent many days trying to find him and so he held back his beasts and prevented them from attacking him.

Then he greeted the youth politely and helped him dismount. ‘Where have you come from, young man?’ said Majnun. 

‘Where I have come from is of little import,’ replied the youth. ‘It is where I am now that matters. And I am glad to say that I am at my journey’s end: I have reached my goal!’

He took Majnun’s hand in his and continued, ‘My home, if you must know, is Baghdad, and I have come to this strange land for your sake, and for your sake alone. I have come to look upon your wondrous face and to listen to your miraculous verses.

‘Now that God has preserved my life thus far, allow me to stay with you for a while. You are a man of great wisdom and enlightenment, and I am the slave come to kiss the dust beneath your feet and obey your every command.

‘Every verse you recite I will commit to memory: my heart will be a goblet for the wine of your sweet words, a treasure chest for the jewels of your wisdom!

‘Let me stay and serve you, I beg you. Look on me as just another of these dumb beasts, here to guard you
faithfully and never leave your side. What harm could one more animal do? I am one of those crushed by the millstone of love, as you are; do not reject me.’

W
hen Majnun had listened to what the stranger had to say, his lips split into a smile and he replied, ‘My dear, most noble sir! The path you have taken is beset by untold dangers and you would do better to return as quickly as possible. There is no place for you here with me, for you have experienced none of my sufferings, you have tasted none of my woes.

‘I have nothing in life but these few wild beasts; since I have no secure foothold, how could I provide you with one? How could I live in harmony with you when I am unable to live with myself? Even the devil and his minions flee from me; why, then, do you think that you would be able to endure my company for even a second? You search for the warmth and 
companionship of another human being, but I am a wild and lonely savage who can give you nothing.

‘Return to your people for there is nothing here for you. We are like chalk and cheese, we do not agree on anything. Our paths are different and will never converge: you are your own best friend, I am my own worst enemy. You have found someone who has become a stranger not only to the world but also to his own soul. Say, “May God be with you!” and leave him as you found him.

‘Please, retrace your steps and go home. Take my advice, now that you have come so far, and go without further question. For if you do not go of your own accord, you will eventually be forced to flee, damaged in mind, body and soul, whether you want to or not.’

Salam of Baghdad heard Majnun out, but the madman’s words did not still the stormy ocean of desire in his heart. ‘I beg you, for the sake of God,’ he cried, ‘do not push me away! Do not forbid me to quench my thirst at your well. Consider me a pilgrim who has come here to worship at the Mecca of your being. Would you refuse a pilgrim the right to pray?’

Such were the youth’s entreaties that Majnun, much to his regret, had no choice but to give in. Salam was overjoyed. He unpacked his bags, spread a cloth on the ground and covered it with delicacies: sweetmeats, pastries, dried fruits and all manner of tempting foods.

Then he said, ‘Now you must be my guest, as I am yours! Please break bread with me and share my food. You may have vowed to fast, but in the end man must eat to keep up his strength. So sit with me and eat, I beg you!’

Majnun shook his head. ‘I am one of those,’ he said, ‘who has conquered all hunger and killed off all base desires. Sweetmeats and pastries exist to sustain those who look after their own well-being; I have no such considerations. Fasting is my food; as such, how can it harm me?’

Salam did not pay much mind to Majnun’s words. Instead, mindful that he should always encourage those who have lost heart, he said, ‘Maybe it would be better if you didn’t feed the despair that has made its home in your heart, for given half a chance it will consume your whole being. Look at the sky! Even the sky does not remain the same: one day blue, one day grey, one day sunny, one day filled with rain. The sky is always changing its appearance, constantly revealing to us new pages of Fate’s book.

‘The world has ever been thus. In the space of a single moment, in the twinkling of an eye, a hundred locked doors may be opened and sorrow transformed to joy. Do not nurture and sustain your grief so: let it go and turn your back on it. It is better to laugh than to cry, even if your heart is breaking. My heart was broken once, and my body paralysed with grief.

‘But God in His compassion took pity on me and showed me the way out of the pit of misery I had dug for myself. And He will have mercy on you, too, if you turn to Him. Your sorrows will be lifted and you will forget your grief. The flame of love that set fire to your whole being is nothing but the flame of youth; when the youth becomes a man, the raging fire within him cools. Believe me, for I speak the truth.’

Salam’s intention was pure, his advice well meant. But it was hard for Majnun to supress his rage. His voice quivering, he said, ‘What do you take me for? Do you think I am some drunkard? Some poor love-sick fool, made senseless by his desires? Do you not realise that I have transcended such a state? I have risen above all that, for I am the very King of Love in all his majesty. My soul is free of lust, my longing is free of all that is base and unseemly, my mind is free of all that is shameful. I have unravelled the knot of desire that once filled my heart, do you not see?

‘Love is fire; I am the wood that is reduced to ashes by its flames. Love has razed to the ground the very temple of my being; my soul has gathered together its belongings and moved on. Do you think that it is me that you see here before you?

‘No, you are wrong: you imagine that you see me, but in reality I no longer exist. I am gone, and only the beloved remains.

‘And do you imagine, even for a second, that the ocean of this love, battered by the storms of grief, could ever be stilled or run dry? Never — until the stars lose their glory or the fires of Hell their heat! Do you really think that this love could be prised away from my heart? Then you are more foolish than I thought! The day that love is prised away from this heart will be the day that you are able to count the grains of sand in this desert!

‘And so if you want to talk to me, watch what you say! And if you value your life, you would do better to keep such nonsense to yourself.’

Majnun’s words affected Salam deeply. Had he not been told by his elders to beware of thoughtless speech? Had he not been advised not to shoot an arrow before testing the bow? Words leave a man’s lips even faster than arrows leave the bow, but shame and regret remain. Salam began to wish that he had never opened his mouth.

Salam and Majnun were destined to tread the same path but for a short time. For a while, the youth from Baghdad accepted desert life and the ways of the wild hermit; indeed, his new life was not without its rewards, for Majnun’s verses were like pearls of great beauty, scattered for him to pick up and treasure, to preserve in the casket of his memory.

But soon the hunger and the sleeplessness of life with Majnun began to take their toll. Soon he felt that his health and his sanity would be in danger if he stayed a day longer, and so he left the wild beasts and their master and returned to Baghdad and the land of men. There he recited the madman’s verses, amazing all who listened with their wisdom and beauty, and touching them all to the depths of their souls.