Layla and Majnun Read Online Free PDF

And although I know that I shall never be free of this pain, it does not matter. For that is how it has to be. And so, dear God, for Your own sake and for the sake of love, let my love grow stronger with each passing hour. Love is all I have, all I am, and all I ever want to be!’
    The old Sayyid listened in amazement as Majnun cried out to his Lord. What could he do for his son now? Their last resort — the pilgrimage to God’s own house — had failed. Now he knew beyond all doubt that there was nothing anyone on earth could do to loosen the chains of love that were binding the boy’s heart.
    And so they left Mecca and began the long journey home, where Majnun’s friends and relatives awaited them in hope and fear. When they arrived, the whole family came out to welcome them. ‘How did it go?’ they all asked. ‘Tell us, has God cured the boy of his affliction or not?’
    The old Sayyid could only shake his head, tears misting his vision. ‘I tried my best’, he said weakly. ‘I told him how to ask God for help, so that He in His compassion might free the boy from this plague inskirts, this accursed Layla. But Majnun had other ideas. And so what did he do? He called down blessings on Layla … and then he cursed himself!’

Chapter 9
    N ews of Majnun’s pilgrimage to Mecca, his hammering on the doors of the ka’ba and his impassioned confession of love soon spread far and wide; before long, talk of Majnun’s love — and his madness — was on everyone’s lips. Some attacked him with harsh words of reproach, while others pitied him and came to his defence. A few had good things to say about him, while many were content to sit and gloat … and to spread evil rumours.
    Talk of Majnun reached Layla, too, but there was little she could do to defend her lover: she simply sat in silence, nursing her grief. The members of her tribe, however, knew that they must act. And so they sent a delegation to the Caliph’s Chief Minister and lodged a complaint against Majnun.
    ‘This lunatic,’ said the Chief Delegate, ‘thismadman, this Majnun, has dishonoured our tribe with his behaviour. Day and night he wanders around the countryside, his filthy hair matted and his clothes in tatters, with a bunch of vagrants and vagabonds in tow. He laughs for no reason, cries for no reason; he screams and shouts and dances and whirls, jumping up into the air, prostrating himself in the dust and kissing the earth below. And all the time he recites his sonnets and his odes, his songs and his quatrains — verse after verse after verse. The unfortunate thing is that his poetry is of the highest quality and the people have taken to committing his songs to memory. This is bad for us and for you, since the words of his song are, for the most part, an affront to public dignity and the high moral standards of society. As you may have heard, his verses concern our leader’s daughter, Layla; her name is on the lips of every man, woman and child in the land. It is not only an affront to public decency, it is a slur on her honour and dignity. We ask, therefore, that you apprehend this rogue and put an end to this business, so that both Layla and the members of our tribe may be safe from this most pernicious affliction.’
    As soon as the delegate had finished speaking, the Minister rose from his chair, unsheathed his sword and showed it to the members of the delegation. ‘Tame the madman with this, if you can’, he said. ‘And I wish you well.’
    Now the Minister’s words were overheard by a member of Majnun’s tribe, the Banu Amir, who happened to be at court that day. Wasting no time, he rushed to tell the old Sayyid, Majnun’s father, what he had heard.
    ‘Layla’s tribe are out for Majnun’s blood,’ he cried; ‘The Caliph’s Chief Minister has sanctioned this business himself. I was there when it happened: the man was like a dragon possessed, breathing fire and spewing threats. We must warn Majnun before it is too late. A