Page 38 - The Book of Rumi

“Omar, it’s time to tend to my special subject! You can fi nd him asleep
among the gravestones. Take seven hundred dinars from the public funds that
you collect on my behalf and take them to him as his wages. Tell him to come
back to you for more after he’s spent it.”
Omar woke up with trepidation, grasping the urgency of his dream. He
quickly ran to the graveyard and searched but could only fi nd an old man
asleep by a grave with an ancient harp by his side. At fi rst, he wasn’t convinced
that this could be God’s special subject, so he searched further but to no
avail. At last he concluded that the harp player must be the man he was sent
to fi nd. Unwilling to disturb the old man, as he looked so peaceful, Omar
quietly sat down beside him but then suddenly sneezed. The old man woke
up with a fright and noticed the regal person sitting next to him. His heart in
his mouth, he began to beg God to save him from what he thought was the
Angel of Death.
Amused, Omar told him gently: “No need to fear me, dear one, I’ve
brought you good tidings. In fact, Allah has greatly praised you and has asked
me to pass on His blessings. He’s also sent you seven hundred dinars for your
overdue wages! When you’ve spent it, you’re to come back to me for more.”
The old musician couldn’t believe his ears and became even more dis-
traught than before. Agitated, he let out a heart-wrenching cry, tore off his
tattered shirt, and, greatly addled, bit into his own hand. “One and only Allah,
You’ve shamed me into nothingness!” he sobbed as he stood up and rambled
aimlessly through the graveyard.
In due time, he stumbled back to fi nd Omar and his harp still in the
same spot as before. He picked up his precious instrument and, in one quick
strike, shattered it against a nearby gravestone, destroying his only source of
livelihood. “You’ve been the veil between God and me,” he blamed the harp.
“You’re responsible for leading me astray from His altar. For almost seventy
years, you’ve sucked my blood and made me shamefaced before my Creator,”
he said as he bashed the harp again and again, reducing it to insignifi cant sliv-
ers of wood.

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