Page 89 - The Book of Rumi

Juhi at the Funeral

he young Juhi was accompanying his father to a colleague’s funeral. The
Tdead man’s son led the procession, walking in front of the casket while
shedding tears and crying out in delirious grief after his cherished father:
“My darling father, where are they taking you? Are they going to bury
your adored body in a grave and cover it with heaps of earth? Are they taking
you to a dark and narrow house, with no carpets to cover the floors, not even a

straw mat? Will they lay you down in a house where no light ever shines, where
no bread gets baked? Will they leave you behind in a place where no aroma of
cooking ever rises in the air, a house with no proper door at its entrance, no
staircase to its rooftop? Will they lay you down somewhere where there is no
neighbor to knock on your door to ask about you? How could you, who were
so widely revered and respected, ever tolerate such a dark and harsh home?”
When Juhi heard the young man utter these words as he mourned his
father’s demise, he turned to his own father and asked sheepishly: “Father, are
they taking the corpse to our house?”
“Don’t be an idiot! What a stupid question!”
“But father, all the details that the young man is describing point to our
house. Listen to him carefully and you’ll see what I mean. He says that the
house has no light and that no food ever gets cooked there; its door is broken,
and it has no garden or even a rooftop! That’s what our house is like!” insisted
the young Juhi, but his words went unheeded by his unmindful father.

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