Layla and Majnun Read Online Free PDF Page B

well has opened up in the middle of his path; unless we take the blindfold from his eyes, he will fall into it and be lost for ever.’
    The informant’s words pierced the old man’s heart like a hundred arrows. Fearing for his son’s life, he sent several of his men to find him and bring him to safety. One by one they came back, empty-handed and disheartened. ‘Majnun is nowhere to be found,’ they said, ‘and we fear that his fate has already been sealed. Either that, or he has been devoured by wild animals, who can tell?’ At which point, Majnun’s friends and relations began to weep and wail as though mourning the dead.
    But their kinsman was not dead. Majnun was safe — for the time being — in one of his mountain retreats. He was quite alone; like the Creator before the first act of creation, Majnun was a ‘hidden treasure, waiting to be discovered’. He had no idea what was happening back in the world of men; indeed, for him that world had all but ceased to exist. Why should it concern him? Had he not abandoned it, given it up, turned his back on it? He had troubles enough of his own, trials and tribulations to fill a thousand such worlds — why should he care about the world he had left behind? How could they help him anyway? He was suffering because he was unable to reach the treasure for which he hadgiven up his life. What good were friends and family at a time like this?
    But Majnun did not remain alone and undiscovered. Several days after the delegation had petitioned the Caliph’s minister, a Bedouin from the tribe known as Banu Saad was passing through the area when he saw a huddled figure crouching under a thorn bush. At first, he thought it was a mirage of some sort; after all, who in his right mind would choose to reside in such a desolate, God-forsaken place? But then he saw the figure move and heard it moan. Approaching him cautiously, he said, ‘Who are you and what are you doing here? Is there anything I can do for you?’
    He repeated his questions over and over again, but Majnun gave no response. Finally, the Bedouin gave up and went on his way, but as soon as he reached his destination he told his family what he had seen on the road. ‘It was a creature,’ he explained, ‘obviously a madman in great pain, writhing under a thorn bush like a wounded snake. His hair was filthy and dishevelled, his clothes no more than soiled rags, and there was nothing left of his body but skin and bone.’
    The news of this man’s encounter with Majnun eventually reached the old Sayyid, who set out at once to find his son and bring him back from the wilderness. When finally he found his son, Majnun was exactly as the Bedouin had described him: pale, emaciated, dirty and incoherent. He wept, stood up, fell down again, groaned, and began to writhe in the dust. The old man bent down, put his hand under his son’s head and looked into his eyes. At first, Majnun did not recognisehis father, and it was only when the old Sayyid began to talk that Majnun knew who it was that had come to his aid. And with this recognition came another flood of tears as Majnun clasped his father to his breast and sobbed. Then, when the storm had subsided, he said, ‘Dear Father, forgive me! Do not ask how I am, because you can see that there is not much left of my life. I wish you did not have to see me in this state; to behold your angel face while mine is in the dust fills me with shame so deep, I cannot begin to describe it. Forgive me, Father, but know this too: none of this is my fault. You see, dear one, the thread of my fate lies in the hand of another …’

Chapter 10
    F rustration clouding his senses, the old Sayyid tore at his turban and threw it to the ground in despair. His world had crumbled; his day had turned to endless night. He breathed deeply and tried to regain his composure. Drawing on his last reserves of strength and courage, he began to speak: ‘You were once a flower — my flower — but now your