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First written in the 12th century, Conference of the Birds is an allegory of extreme measures for extreme times -- the story of birds seeking a king is the story of all of us seeking God. Like the birds, we may be excited for the journey, until we realize that we must give up our fears and hollow desires, that our journey will be long and hard. Like the duck, we may not wish to leave the water. Like the nightingale, we may want to stay close to our roses.
Direct and to the point, Masani's translation, made in the early part of the 19th century, is particularly apropos for our early 21st century times -- both are periods of intense spiritual seeking.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781609252236 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Red Wheel/Weiser |
| Publication date: | 10/15/2001 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 96 |
| File size: | 284 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CONFERENCE of the BIRDS
A Seeker's Journey to GOD
By Farid-ud-din Attar
Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC
Copyright © 2001 Andrew HarveyAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-60925-223-6
CHAPTER 1
THE PARLIAMENT OF THE BIRDS
Once upon a time, in the dim old days, all the birds of the world assembled in solemn conclave to consider a momentous question.
Ever since the dawn of Creation the inhabitants of every city had had a king or leader, called Shahryar, or the friend of the city, but these feathered souls had no king to befriend them. Theirs was an army without a general—a position most precarious. How could they be successful in the battle of life without a leader to guide the weakwinged party through the perils of earthly existence? Many an eloquent speaker addressed the assembly, deploring their helpless plight in plaintive terms, bringing tears to the eyes of the tiny ones, and it was unanimously agreed that it was highly desirable, nay, absolutely necessary, that they should place themselves without delay under the protection of a king.
At this stage, full of fervour, leapt forward the Hoopoe (Hud-hud) renowned in the Muslim scriptures for the part she had played as King Solomon's trusted emissary to Bilqis, the Queen of Sheba. She had on her bosom the crest symbolizing her spiritual knowledge and on her head shone the crown of faith.
"Dear birds," she said, "I have the honour to belong to the Celestial Army. I know the Lord and the secrets of creation. When one carries, as I do, the name of God writ large upon its beak, one may be given the credit of knowing many a secret of the spiritual world."
In the same vein of exultation she recounted her physical and mental qualities. She had the gift of divining underground sources of water and had directed the genii to them by pecking the earth. She had gone round the globe in the days of the Deluge and had accompanied Solomon in his journey through dales and deserts. She was the forerunner of his army and his faithful messenger.
"We have a king, my friends," said she, "I have obtained an indication of His court; but to go alone in quest of Him is beyond my power. If however, you accompany me, I think we may hope to reach the threshold of His Majesty. Yea, any friends, we have a king, whose name is Simurg, and whose residence is behind Mount Caucasus. He is close by, but we are far away from Him. The road to His throne is bestrewn with obstructions; more than a hundred thousand veils of light and darkness screen the throne. Hundreds of thousands of souls burn with an ardent passion to see Him, but no one is able to find his way to Him. Yet none can afford to do without Him. Supreme manliness, absolute fearlessness and complete self-effacement are needed to overcome those obstacles. If we succeed in getting a glimpse of His face, it will be an achievement indeed. If we do not attempt it, and if we fail to greet the Beloved, this life is not worth living."
The Hoopoe then described to her winged friends how the Simurg had first made His appearance on earth.
"During the early days of Creation He passed one midnight in His radiant flight over the land of China. A feather from His wing fell on Chinese soil. Instantly there was great tumult throughout the world. Everyone was seized with a desire to take a picture of that feather, and whoever saw the picture lost his senses. That feather is still in China's picture-gallery. 'Seek knowledge, even in China' points to this."
On hearing this account of the Simurg, the birds lost all patience and were seized with a longing to set out at once in quest of the Sovereign Bird. They became His friends and their own enemies and wished to go forward in search of Him, but when they were told how long and fearful the road was, they were completely unnerved and brought forward several excuses. These apologies were typical of the personal idiosyncrasies of the different species of the birds.
The first to retrace its steps was the Nightingale, known for his passionate fancy for the Rose and for the rapturous melodies in which he sings of his love. "I am so completely drowned in the ocean of love for my Rose," said he, "that I have practically no life of my own. How can a tiny thing like me have the fortitude to withstand the splendour of the Simurg? For me the love of the Rose is enough."
"Oh," cried the Hoopoe, "ye who stop short at mere appearances, being enamoured of external beauty only, talk no more of Love. Your love for the Rose has merely spread thorns in your way. Such a passion for transient objects brings naught save grief. Give up your fancy for the Rose. It mocks you at every spring and blossoms not for your sake. Your attachment for it is like that of the Dervish in the story I will relate to you."
The Princess and the Dervish
A charming princess was the object of universal admiration. One day an ill-starred Dervish (mendicant) happened to pass by. He was so struck with her beauty that the piece of bread he was carrying in his hands slipped from his fingers. Greatly amused, the girl burst into laughter and walked off merrily. The Dervish was, however, so much enamoured of her smile, scornful though it was, that he could thenceforth think of nothing else but that smile. For seven long years he refused to move from the precincts of her palace. The attendants and servants of the girl were so much annoyed with him that they resolved one day to take his life. The princess, however, did not wish that the unfortunate man should be injured in any way. She, therefore, whispered to him in secret that if he wished to save his life, he had better leave the place forthwith.
"Have I a life that I should think of saving it?" asked the love-sick man. "On the very day on which you favoured me with a smile, my life was sacrificed to you. But pray, tell me why did you smile that day?"
"Oh, you simpleton," replied the girl. "I laughed because I saw that you had not an iota of sense or reason."
After the Nightingale had been thus admonished by the Hoopoe, the Parrot came forward and pleaded his inability to undertake the journey because he had been imprisoned in a cage, a penalty he had to pay for his beauty. The Peacock urged that he was quite unworthy of the Royal Presence because of the part he had played in the expulsion of Adam from Paradise. The Duck could not do without water, nor the Partridge without mountains. The Huma said he was gifted with the power to confer sovereignty on those over whose head he flew. Why should he give up such a lofty privilege? Similarly, the Falcon could not brook the idea of relinquishing his place of honour on the hand of kings. The Heron wished to stay in the lagoons, and the Owl in the ruins of which he was the undisturbed monarch. Last came the Wagtail with his excuses for his weakness and physical disabilities that made it impossible for him to embark on the journey.
The Hoopoe brushed aside all these pretexts and illustrated her precepts by a series of anecdotes and inspiring stories; for instance, in admonishing the Owl, she related the following story, illustrating the fate of those who, like the Owl, are attached to their worldly possessions.
A Miser's Fate
A miser died, leaving a pot full of coins, buried in a secret place. Some time after his death, his son saw him in a dream. His appearance was completely metamorphosed, so that he looked like a mouse, and streams of tears were flowing from his eyes. In this state of agony he was going round and round the place where the treasure lay buried. "My sire," asked the son, "what has transformed your features thus? Wherefore this deformity?"
"Whosoever's heart is so attached to riches as was mine," replied the father, "will have his face deformed like mine. Therefore, beware, my son. Take a lesson from this."
Sage counsel such as this had its effect. The Hoopoe's words instilled courage and enthusiasm into the hearts of the birds, and they resolved to embark on the journey, perilous though it was. Before starting, however, they asked her to expound to them their relationship with His Majesty the Simurg, a point that was by no means clear to them.
"Know ye then," said the Hoopoe, "that the Simurg once removed the veil from His face, so that it shone resplendent like the sun and cast millions of rays around. By his grace, these rays were turned into birds. We are, therefore, the sparks of the Simurg. When you realize this mystery, your relationship with the Simurg will be as clear to you as day-light. But, beware, my friends, do not reveal this secret to others. It is not a matter to be divulged to all. Well, now that you have learnt whose reflection or shadow you are, you will understand that to live or to die is one and the same thing for you."
This, however, was a metaphysical subtlety too difficult for the bewildered birds to comprehend. The Hoopoe, therefore, gave an illustration.
A Handsome King
There was a king, handsome above all other men. His subjects' great desire was to behold his face. Those who merely thought of his beauty lost their senses, while those who succeeded in getting a glimpse of the Royal Presence forthwith gave up their lives. Thus, neither could they endure the sight, nor could they do without it. Out of compassion for them, the king arranged to show his face to them through a mirror, so as to protect them from exposure to the overpowering rays of his beauty. A special palace was, therefore, erected for the purpose, and a mirror was placed in front of it in such a position that if the king turned his face in a particular direction, people were able to see its reflection in the mirror.
"If you, my friends," continued the Hoopoe, "desire to see the face of our beloved king Simurg, I will tell you where to look for it. In the mirror of your own heart you will be able to see Him."
This again fired the hearts of the birds with the desire to greet the Simurg. They unanimously resolved to set out in quest of the Great Unknown. At the same time they could not help doubting their capacity to withstand the perils of the journey. Seeing the perturbed state of their mind, the Hoopoe said: "He who has become a lover should never think of his life. Your soul is an obstacle in your way. Sacrifice it. If you are required to sacrifice your faith also, together with your soul, do so by all means, and if anyone brands you as an infidel, tell him that love occupies a position more exalted than religion, and has nothing to do with faith or heresy. Whoever sets his feet firmly in the abiding-place of love I transcends the bounds of infidelity and faith as well."
As an illustration of this rather astounding statement, the Hoopoe related to the birds the following.
Story of Shaykh San'an
Shaykh San'an was a saint renowned in Mecca for his devotion and austerities and for his unique knowledge of Sufism. For fifty years he was the acknowledged leader of the learned men of Mecca, and the distinguished preceptor of hundreds of disciples. Such was his personal purity and such were his natural gifts for performing miracles that a single breath of his was sufficient to cure the worst of maladies. For several successive nights this saint saw in a dream that he had gone from Mecca to Byzantium and was there prostrating himself before an idol. He thereupon told his disciples that be apprehended that a serious calamity was awaiting him and that rather than remain in suspense he proposed to proceed to Byzantium in order to obtain a clue to the interpretation of that dream. All his followers, four hundred in number, accompanied him. When they reached their destination they came to a palace, on the tower of which stood a Christian girl. She was endowed with celestial beauty and angelic qualities, and was well versed in spiritual knowledge. On seeing her face, the Shaykh stood riveted to the ground and lost all that was his. His followers felt greatly embarrassed, but ventured to proffer their advice to their erstwhile teacher and leader, and even to remonstrate with him for this loss of self-control. Nothing, however, could restore the saint to his senses. They, therefore, did their best to induce him to return to Mecca, but the Shaykh would not budge an inch. He made that street his residence and, mixing with the curs of the street, lived the life of a dog. Misery and illness reduced him to a skeleton, and his saintliness and splendour gave way to infidelity and infamy.
The girl at last came to know of this tragedy. One day she went to the Shaykh and asked, "O holy man, what is the reason for this restlessness and misery? What is the explanation for this strange phenomenon that a pious Muslim should take up his abode in the streets of infidels such as Christians are?"
"You have stolen my heart," said the saint. "Either restore it to me, or accept my love. This love is no mere fancy. Either separate my heart from my body, or lower your head towards mine."
"You should be ashamed of yourself, old fool," said the girl. "At this stage of your life you had better think of your coffin rather than of love for a girl like me.
"Abuse me as much as you may," replied the Shaykh. "That will not affect in the least my attachment to you. Alike are old and young in the path of love. Its impress on the heart of all is the same."
"If that is so," observed the girl, "and if your love is genuine, you must wash your hands clean of Islam. The fancy of one who observes diversity of creed in the realm of love is no more enduring then mere colour (appearance) and smell."
"I am prepared to do whatever you desire and shall perform with all my heart whatever you dictate."
"Then," said the girl, "do these things: prostrate yourself before an idol; put the Quran in the fire; drink wine and renounce Islam."
The bewildered Shaykh replied: "I can go so far as to persuade myself to drink wine in honour of your beauty, but the other things I can never do."
"Very well," said the girl, "come and drink wine?"
To a temple they repaired, where the Shaykh saw a novel assemblage of persons, presided over by a fascinating hostess. Glowing with passion, he took goblet after goblet from the hand of his beloved and lost all sense and reason and attempted to take her in his arms.
"Not yet," said the girl, "you are still a pretender in the path of love. If your attachment is real and firm, follow my ringlets in heresy and become a Christian."
The drunken Sufi adopted Christianity.
"Now what more do you want?" he asked. "In my senses I declined to prostrate before an idol, but in this intoxicated condition I have become a worshipper of an idol such as you."
"You want to be one with me," replied the girl, "but I am a princess. I must have a dowry befitting a princess. Where will you find so much gold and silver? Therefore, take my advice. Recover your senses, forget this passion; be a man, and have patience like a man."
Mortally disappointed, the Shaykh implored her not to be unkind. It was impossible for him, at that stage to do without her.
"Well then," said the girl, "watch my herd of pigs for a year and I will forego the dowry."
What a position for a Muslim saint, whose religion holds the pig to be the most unclean animal! Yet the infatuated man agreed at once.
The Shaykh's disciples returned to Mecca, greatly mortified by the conduct of the God-forsaken saint. They dared not show their faces in public. When they had left for Byzantium, the most devoted disciple of the Shaykh was not in Mecca. He was not, therefore, able to accompany his colleagues, but when he heard from them of the condition to which the Shaykh was reduced, he took them all to task for their inactivity and inconstancy.
"You should have all turned Christians and remained with the Shaykh rather than have deserted him," said he.
"We were prepared to do even that," they replied, "but the Shaykh would not allow us to do so, and he bade us return home."
"In that case," observed the disciple, "you should have knocked unceasingly at the door of the Almighty for his redemption."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from CONFERENCE of the BIRDS by Farid-ud-din Attar. Copyright © 2001 Andrew Harvey. Excerpted by permission of Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Introduction by Andrew Harvey
Translator's Foreword
PART ONE
The Parliament of the Birds,
The Princess and the Dervish
A Miser's Fate
A Handsome King
Story of Shaykh San'an
PART TWO
"On to the Bound of the Waste, On, to the City of God,"
Sultan Mahmud and the Orphan Lad
A Grave-Digger's Experience
A Saint's Dream
A King's Palace
A Father's Love
Shaykh Ahmed Guri and Sultan Sanjar
A Faithful Infidel and a Deceitful Crusader
The Magic Cup of Joseph
The Advice of Satan
Sultan Mahmud and Ayaz
PART THREE
Through the Seven Valleys,
The Valley of the Quest
Majnun's Search of Layla
Mahmud and the Rag-Picker
The Valley of Love
A Love-Sick Nobleman
Majhun's Stratagem
The Valley of Knowledge
The Man of Stone
The Beloved Who Found Her Lover in the Arms of Morpheus
A Love-Sick Sentinel
Sultan Mahmud and The Fanatic
The Valley of Detachment
An Analogy from Astrology
The Fly and the Bee-Hive
The Valley of Unity
Advice Given to a Shaykh by a Woman
The Valley of Bewilderment and Stupefaction
A Mother's Grief
The Lost Key
The Valley of Poverty and Annihilation
Nasir-Ud-Din Tusi's Advice to His Disciple
The Assemblage of Butterflies in Search of the Candle
PART FOUR
Reception at the Royal Court,
A Brief Memoir of the Poet Farid-ud-din Attar
Notes