Начало повести: царь Азад Бахт и четыре дервиша

Now I begin the tale. Lend an ear a moment, and judge fairly. In the Adventures of the Four Darvesh it is written thus, and the teller has told it so. In days gone by there was in the land of Rum an emperor who had in his person the justice of Naushirwan and the generosity of Hatim. His name was Azad Bakht, and the city of Constantinople (which they call Istanbul) was the seat of his throne. In his time the subjects were prosperous, the treasury full, the army content, the poor and humble at ease; they passed their days in such comfort and lived in such happiness that in every house the day was Eid and the night was Shab-e-Barat. And all the thieves and robbers, pickpockets, early-rising cutpurses, snatchers and swindlers he had so utterly wiped out that not a trace of their name was left in the whole of his realm. All night long the doors of the houses were never shut, and the shops of the bazaar stayed open. Travellers and wayfarers went through forest and plain tossing gold in the air, and no one asked, "Have you teeth in your mouth, and where are you going?"

Thousands of cities were under this emperor's rule, and several sultans paid him the tribute of the horseshoe; yet with so great an empire he never let his heart grow careless for one hour of the remembrance and worship of God. Of every comfort of this world whatever he wished was his, but he was deprived of a son; the fruit of life was not in the garden of his fortune. On this account he was often anxious. After the five daily prayers he would say, from his heart, "O God, Thou hast given me, Thy humble servant, everything by Thy bounty, but one thing Thou hast not given to this dark house. This single longing remains in my heart: give me one living, breathing son, so that my name and the sign of this sovereignty may endure." In this hope the emperor reached his fortieth year. One day he had said his prayers in the Hall of Mirrors and was reciting his litany, when all at once his eye fell on the mirror and he saw a white hair in his moustache, glittering like a thread of silver. At this sight the emperor's eyes filled with tears, and he heaved a cold sigh. Then he thought in his heart: "Alas, you have wasted so much of your life for nothing; in greed for this world you have turned a whole world upside down; and the kingdom you have taken, what use will it be to you now? In the end all this wealth and property will fall to some other. The message of death has already come to you. Even if you live a few days more, the strength of your body will decline."

"From this it is clear that it is not written in my destiny that an heir to my goods and my throne should be born. One day I must die and leave everything; better, then, that I leave it myself, and pass the rest of my life in the remembrance of my Creator." Having settled this in his heart, he went down into the lower garden, dismissed all who had come to pay their respects, and commanded that from that day no one should come to him: all should come and go in the Hall of Public Audience and attend to their own business. So saying, he went and sat in a room by himself, spread his prayer-carpet and gave himself to devotion. Besides weeping and sighing he had no other occupation. In this way several days passed for the Emperor Azad Bakht. In the evening, at the breaking of the fast, he took one dried date and three sips of water, and the whole day and night he lay on his prayer-carpet. Talk of this spread outside; little by little the whole country learned that the emperor had withdrawn his hand from the empire and taken to a corner. On all four sides enemies and troublemakers raised their heads and stepped beyond their bounds. Whoever wished seized a province; what rebellion did not come of it! Wherever there were governors, their authority was gravely disturbed. From every province petitions about misrule reached the court. All the nobles of the court assembled and began to consult on a remedy. At last they resolved: "The Nawab Vizier is wise and sagacious, the emperor's confidant and trusted servant, and the highest of all in rank; let us go to him and see what he thinks fit to do." So all the nobles came to the vizier and said, "This is the emperor's state and that is the condition of the country. If there is neglect a little longer, the kingdom that was won with such labour will be lost for nothing, and hard to recover." The vizier, an old and faithful servant of long standing, wise, and named Khiradmand, Wise, a name that fitted the man, said: "Although the emperor has forbidden us to come into his presence, still, come with me; I will go. Perhaps it will come into the emperor's mind to call me before him." So saying, he brought them all with him as far as the Hall of Public Audience, left them there, and himself came into the Hall of Private Audience, and sent word to the emperor by a eunuch: "This old slave is in attendance. For many days he has not seen the world-adorning countenance. He hopes that by one glance, and by kissing the royal feet, his heart may be set at rest." The emperor heard this petition of the vizier. Since he knew well his long service, his good will, his judgement and his devotion, and usually took his advice, after some reflection he said, "Call Khiradmand in." So when leave was given, the vizier came into the presence, made his obeisance, and stood with folded hands.

He saw that the emperor had come to a strange pass: weeping bitterly, with rings round his eyes from thinness, and his face grown yellow.

Khiradmand could not bear it; he ran, beside himself, and fell at the emperor's feet. The emperor raised his head with his hand and said, "There, you have seen me; is your heart at rest? Now go, and do not torment me further; you rule the empire." Khiradmand, hearing this, wept aloud and said, "By your Majesty's grace and welfare your slave has always had the empire at his command. But by your Majesty's sudden retirement in this manner the whole realm has been thrown into turmoil, and the end of it will not be good. What thought has come into the royal mind? If you would make this hereditary servant of the house, too, a sharer in this secret, it would be well; whatever enters his poor understanding he will submit. It is for just such a day that these honours have been bestowed on your slaves, that the emperor may take his ease and pleasure, and those nourished on his salt may manage the affairs of the kingdom. God forbid, if anxiety has seized the exalted mind, on what day will your Majesty's servants be of use?" The emperor said, "You speak truly; but the care that is in my heart is beyond remedy. Listen, Khiradmand. My whole life has passed in the headache of conquering kingdoms. Now I have reached these years, and death is all that lies ahead, and of that too the message has come, for my black hairs have begun to turn white. There is a saying: we slept all night; shall we not wake even in the morning? To this day not one son has been born to me, who would set my heart at rest. For this reason my heart has grown very sad, and I have let everything go. Whoever wishes, let him take the kingdom or take the wealth; I have no concern with it. Indeed, at any moment I intend to leave everything and go out into the forests and the mountains, and show my face to no one, and so pass these few days of life. If some place pleases me, I will sit there and perform the worship of my Lord. Perhaps the end may be good; as for the world, I have seen it well, and found no savour in it." Having said this much, and heaved a sigh, the emperor fell silent.

Khiradmand had been vizier to the emperor's father; he had loved him since he was a prince, and besides he was wise and well-meaning. He said, "To despair of the court of God is never proper. He who created the eighteen thousand worlds with a single command, what great matter is it to Him to give you a child? Qibla of the world, put this false notion away from your heart, or the whole realm will fall into confusion. And this empire, with what labour and hardship did your forefathers and you win it? In a moment it will slip out of your hands, and through heedlessness the country will be laid waste. God forbid, disgrace will be the result. And beyond that there will be the reckoning of the Day of Judgement, when it will be asked: 'I made you emperor and gave My servants into your charge; you despaired of My mercy and left your subjects bewildered and distressed.' What answer will you give to that question? Worship, too, will be of no use on that day, for the heart of man is the house of God, and kings will be questioned only about justice. Forgive your slave's boldness: to leave one's home and wander from forest to forest is the business of jogis and faqirs, not of kings. Do the work that is yours. The remembrance and worship of God do not depend on forest or mountain. Your Majesty will have heard this couplet:

God is close at hand, and this man searches the forest for Him;
The crier goes round the town, and the child is under his arm.

If you will judge fairly and accept the petition of this devoted servant, the better way is this: let your Majesty keep the thoughts of your heart turned to God at every moment and every hour, and pray. No one has gone away empty from His door. By day attend to the government of the country and to justice and the trial of the poor and humble, so that the servants of God may live happy in peace and safety in the shadow of your fortunate skirt; and by night perform your worship, and send the merit of blessings to the pure soul of the Prophet, and seek help from darvesh who live retired and trust in God; and give daily allowances to orphans, prisoners, men with families, the needy, and widows. In the blessing of such good deeds and good intentions, if God wills, there is strong hope that all the aims and desires of your heart will be fulfilled, that the wish for which the exalted mind is troubled will be granted, and that your noble heart will be glad. Keep your eyes on the favour of the Provider, who in a single moment does whatever He wills." Well, by such representations of the vizier Khiradmand the heart of Azad Bakht took courage. He said, "Very well; what you say is good; let us try this too. After that, whatever is the will of God will be."

When the emperor's heart was consoled, he asked the vizier, "And what are all the nobles and great men doing, and how are they?" He submitted, "All the pillars of the state pray for the life and fortune of the Qibla of the world. They are all bewildered and distressed on account of your Majesty's grief. Show them your blessed countenance, so that all hearts may be at rest; indeed, at this moment they are present in the Hall of Public Audience." On hearing this the emperor commanded, "God willing, I will hold court tomorrow; tell them all to attend." Khiradmand, hearing this promise, was glad; he lifted both hands and prayed, "As long as this earth and sky stand, may your crown and throne endure," and, taking leave of the presence, came out rejoicing and told the good news to the nobles. All the nobles went home in joy and gladness. There was rejoicing in the whole city; the subjects were delighted that tomorrow the emperor would hold public court. In the morning all the servants of the house, high and low, and the pillars of the state, small and great, came and stood each in his own place and rank, waiting for the emperor to appear.

When a watch of the day had risen, all at once the curtain was lifted and the emperor came forth and took his seat on the blessed throne. In the music gallery the drums of rejoicing began to play. All presented their offerings of congratulation and performed their salutations and obeisances in the place of homage. Each was honoured according to his worth and station; every heart found joy and peace. When noon came, the court rose and the emperor went into the palace, took his royal meal, and rested in the sleeping chamber. From that day the emperor made this his rule: always to hold court in the morning, in the afternoon to occupy himself with a book or recite his blessings and litany, and, with repentance and seeking of forgiveness at the court of God, to pray for his heart's desire.

One day he saw it written in a book: if any grief or care so afflicts a man that no contrivance can cure it, then he should commit it to destiny, and himself turn his steps to the graveyard, and give the merit of his blessings to the dead for the sake of the Prophet's soul; and, counting himself as nothing, should keep his heart awake against the heedlessness of this world, and weep for a warning, and consider the power of God: how many lords of kingdoms and treasuries were born on this earth before me, but the heavens, bringing them all into their revolution, have mingled them with the dust. There is the saying:

Seeing the mill go round, Kabir wept:
Between the two stones none comes through whole.

Now look, and nothing remains of them but a heap of earth, and they lie alone, having left all the wealth of the world, house and home, children and descendants, friends and companions, servants and attendants, elephants and horses. None of it was of any use to them; indeed no one even knows their names or who they were, and of the state of things inside the grave nothing is known: whether worms and insects, ants and snakes have eaten them, or what passed over them, and how they fared with God. Thinking these things in his heart, let a man know the whole world to be a puppet show; then the bud of his heart will stay always open and in no condition will it wither. When the emperor read this counsel in the book, he remembered the words of the vizier Khiradmand and found the two in agreement. He wished to act upon it; but to go and come like a king, on horseback and with a crowd about him, was not fitting. Better to change his dress and go alone at night to the tombs, or to wait on some man of God living in retirement, and keep vigil; perhaps through the intercession of such men the wish of this world and salvation in the next might be won.

Having fixed this in his heart, one night he put on coarse, plain clothes, took some rupees and gold mohurs, slipped quietly out of the fort and took the road to the open plain. Going on and on, he reached a graveyard. He was reciting blessings with great sincerity of heart; and at that hour a strong wind was blowing, indeed it should be called a storm. All at once the emperor saw far off something like a flame, bright as the morning star. He thought to himself: "In this storm and darkness such a light is not without some art. Either it is a talisman (for if you sprinkle alum and sulphur round the wick of a lamp, let the wind blow as it may, the lamp will not go out), or it is the lamp of some heart that burns. Whatever it is, I must go and see; perhaps by the light of that candle a lamp will be lit in my house too, and the wish of my heart be granted." With this intention he set off in that direction. When he came near, he saw four destitute faqirs with shrouds about their necks and their heads on their knees, sitting silent in a state of trance; and their condition was like that of a traveller cut off from his country and his people, caught in the grief and sorrow of helplessness and poverty, left bewildered. So the poor men sat like figures on a wall. And a lamp set on a stone was flickering; the wind did not touch it at all, as if the sky had become its lantern, and it burned without danger.

As soon as Azad Bakht saw this he felt certain: "Surely your wish will be fulfilled by the blessing of the feet of these men of God, and the dry tree of your hope will grow green and bear fruit through their favour. Go to them, tell your story and join their company; perhaps they will take pity on you and pray, and the prayer may be accepted by Him who needs nothing." With this intention he was about to step forward, when his reason restrained him: "Fool, do not be hasty; look a little first. What do you know of who these men are, where they have come from and where they are going? Who knows whether they are demons or ghouls of the wilderness who have taken the form of men and are sitting together? In any case to be hasty and to go and intrude among them is not good. Hide for a while in a corner and learn the truth about these darvesh." In the end the emperor did just that: he went and sat quietly in a corner of that place, so that no one heard the sound of his coming, and fixed his attention on them to see what they would say to one another. By chance one of the faqirs sneezed and gave thanks to God; the three other qalandars started at his voice, trimmed the lamp (which was burning well enough), and each on his own bedding filled a huqqa and began to smoke. One of those free men spoke: "O sympathising friends and world-wandering companions! We four figures, by the turning of the sky and the revolution of night and day, have wandered a long while from door to door with dust on our heads. Praise be to God that by the help of our stars and the favour of fortune we have met today in this place; and of tomorrow nothing is known, what may befall, whether we stay together or part. The night is as big as a mountain; it is not good to lie down already. Better that each should tell his own story, whatever has passed over him in this world (provided there is not a cowrie's worth of falsehood in it), and so the night will pass in talk. When little of the night is left, we will lie down and rest." They all said, "O guide, whatever you command we accept. First begin yourself with your own story, what you have seen, so that we may profit."