Page 65 - The Book of Rumi

Thorny Shrubs

n the past, desert towns and villages were connected by long and circuitous
Idirt roads. In one such village, there lived a vicious man who cared for no

one, not even for his immediate family. He seemed to be always in conflict,
mostly with himself; one could gauge his mood simply by watching whether
he was involved in some vindictive activity.
For some time, this man had been planting small, thorny shrubs along
the road from his village to the next. These bushes grew slowly but sturdily
and scratched against the feet and legs of whoever walked on the path, turning
their journey into absolute torture. Every day, he planted new shrubs despite
the complaints of other townsfolk; he offhandedly turned a deaf ear to the
village headman’s order to stop his spiteful planting.
Although he regularly promised to pull out the thornbushes, he never
complied, and they grew sturdier and thicker, cutting the skin of people using
the footpath and causing bleeding infections. At last, the selfi sh man was
called to court.
“I’ve asked you many times to stop your unreasonable planting,” gushed
the headman. “Why do you insist on hurting everyone around you? Every
day you break your promise to pull out the thornbushes, you lazy good-for-
nothing! I’ve ordered you to pull out the nasty plants but instead you leave
them to grow, further strengthening their roots; and you add more every single
day! You grow older and weaker each day as they grow stronger and taller.
Either you cut them from the roots this very morning or turn them all into
rose bushes! Tell me, can you do that?”
The headman had legally challenged the scofflaw at last, but he didn’t

have much hope, nearly certain that his words would have little impact. He
knew that it was probably too late for this damaged soul to change his deeply
ingrained ways, and he watched the man in despair as he left the courtroom in
a careless clamor, plainly indicating with his disregard that he had no intention
of heeding the court order.

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