“But they are taking those trays to your house!” the man exclaimed.
“Then is it any of your business?” the Sufi said.
Unfortunately, people always watch the trays of others. Instead of minding their own business,
they pass judgment on other people. It never ceases to amaze me the things they fabricate! Their
imagination knows no limits when it comes to suspicion and slander.
Apparently there are people in this town who believe that I am the secret commander of the
Assassins. Some go so far as to claim that I am the son of the last Ismaili imam of Alamut. They
say I am so skilled in black magic and witchcraft that whomever I curse will die on the spot.
Some others even make the outrageous accusation that I have put a spell on Rumi. Just to make
sure he doesn’t break the spell, I force him to drink snake soup every day at dawn!
When I hear such claptrap, I laugh and walk away. What else is there to do? What harm comes to
a dervish from the sourness of others? If the whole world were swallowed by the sea, what
would it matter to a duck?
Nevertheless, I can see that the people around me are worried, particularly Sultan Walad. He is
such a bright young man I am sure someday soon he will become his father’s best aide. And then
there is Kimya, sweet Kimya.… She, too, seems concerned. But the worst thing about the gossip
is that Rumi gets his share of vilification. Unlike me, he isn’t used to being bad-mouthed by
others. It torments me to see him distressed over the words of ignorant people. Mawlana has
immense beauty inside. I, on the other hand, have both beauty and ugliness. It is easier for me to
deal with the ugliness of others than it is for him. But how can an erudite scholar who is used to
having serious conversations and logical conclusions handle the claptrap of ignorant people?
No wonder the Prophet Muhammad said, “In this world take pity on three kinds of people. The
rich man who has lost his fortune, the well-respected man who has lost his respectability, and the
wise man who is surrounded by ignorants.”
And yet I can’t help thinking that there could be some good for Rumi in all this. Slander is a
hurtful, albeit necessary, element in Rumi’s inner transformation. His whole life he has been
admired, respected, and imitated, having a reputation beyond reproach. He doesn’t know how it
feels to be misunderstood and criticized by others. Nor has he been pestered by the sort of
vulnerability and loneliness that one feels from time to time. His ego has not been bruised, not
even slightly damaged, by other people. But he needs that. As hurtful as it is, being slandered is
ultimately good for one on the path. It is Rule Number Thirty: The true Sufi is such that even
when he is unjustly accused, attacked, and condemned from all sides, he patiently endures,
uttering not a single bad word about any of his critics. A Sufi never apportions blame. How can
there be opponents or rivals or even “others” when there is no “self” in the first place?
How can there be anyone to blame when there is only One?
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