Elif Shafak is one of Turkey’s most acclaimed and outspoken novelists

The Letter 
FROM BAGHDAD TO KAYSERI, SEPTEMBER 29, 1243 
Bismillahirrahmanirrahim ,
Brother Seyyid Burhaneddin,
Peace be on you, and the mercy of God, and His blessings.
I was very pleased to receive your letter and learn that you were as devoted to the path of love as 
ever. And yet your letter also put me in a quandary. For as soon as I learned you were looking for 
the companion of Rumi, I knew who you were talking about. What I did not know was what to 
do next.
You see, there was under my roof a wandering dervish, Shams of Tabriz, who fit your 
description to the letter. Shams believed he had a special mission in this world, and to this end he 
wished to enlighten an enlightened person. Looking for neither disciples nor students, he asked 
God for a companion. Once he said to me that he hadn’t come for the common people. He had 
come to put his finger on the pulse of those who guided the world to the Truth.
When I received your letter, I knew that Shams was destined to meet Rumi. Still, to make sure 
every one of my dervishes got an equal chance, I gathered them and without going into any 
details told them about a scholar whose heart had to be opened. Though there were a few 
candidates, Shams was the only one who persevered even after hearing about the dangers of the 
task. That was back in winter. The same scene was repeated in spring and then in autumn.
You might be wondering why I waited this long. I have thought hard about this and frankly can 
offer only one reason: I have grown fond of Shams. It pained me to know that I was sending him 
on a dangerous journey.
You see, Shams is not an easy person. As long as he lived a nomadic life, he could manage it 
pretty well, but if he stays in a town and mingles with the townspeople, I am afraid he will ruffle 
some feathers. This is why I tried to postpone his journey as long as I could.
The evening before Shams left, we took a long walk around the mulberry trees where I grow 
silkworms. Old habits rarely die. Painfully delicate and surprisingly strong, silk resembles love. I 
told Shams how the silkworms destroy the silk they produce as they emerge from their cocoons. 
This is why the farmers have to make a choice between the silk and the silkworm. More often 
than not, they kill the silkworm while it is inside the cocoon in order to pull the silk out intact. It 
takes the lives of hundreds of silkworms to produce one silk scarf.
The evening was now coming to an end. A chilly wind blew in our direction, and I shivered. In 
my old age, I get cold easily, but I knew it wasn’t my age that caused this shiver. It was because I 
realized this was the last time Shams would stand in my garden. We will not see each other 
again. Not in this world. He, too, must have sensed it, for there was now sorrow in his eyes.
This morning at the crack of dawn, he came to kiss my hand and ask for my blessings. I was 
surprised to see he had cut his long dark hair and shaved his beard, but he didn’t offer an 
explanation and I didn’t ask. Before he left, he said his part in this story resembled the silkworm. 

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He and Rumi would retreat into a cocoon of Divine Love, only to come out when the time was 
ripe and the precious silk woven. But eventually, for the silk to survive, the silkworm had to die.
Thus he left for Konya. May God protect him. I know I have done the right thing, and so have 
you, but my heart is heavy with sadness, and I already miss the most unusual and unruly dervish 
my lodge has ever welcomed.
In the end we all belong to God, and to Him we shall return.
May God suffice you,
Baba Zaman