A Carpet Story

WORTH OF A PERSIAN CARPET ©


The City is noted for its minarets and gardens. On a
sunny day the four minarets of the Blue Mosque rise to
the skies like prayers of many believers; more
picturesque is the central dome covered with some
millions of blue tiles. Such blue is no more seen
since the sultan decreed ‘Blue is passé’. See how it
stands, a shimmering dome like the tear of an angel,
frozen in midair. The Blue Mosque. Poets loved
watching the dome under changing lights through the
day! It made their poetry sound sweeter. Hamals (or
porters) carrying heavy loads through winding and
crooked streets looked at that dome rising from the
city skyline and instantly their loads became lighter
and they thought life was worth living. No one could
resist its power. Except one.
See that crooked street cutting through the market?
Do you see that shop on the right? A To Z the board
says. Anything money can buy is sold there. Ziddiq,
the shopkeeper is dressed in drab clothes and his
beard is browned as his fingers are calloused. Henna
colored his beard which he allowed because his wife
thought brown was becoming in one so old; his fingers
were calloused from counting money: large sums of it
every night passed through his fingers when the folks
slept. While the dome of the Blue Mosque gleamed under
a waning moon! Poor Ziddiq! He had never even heard of
the blueness of the dome under whose shadow he lived
all his life!
One morning his neighbor told him in strictest
confidence the price of grains would go sky-high. How
high? Ziddiq asked. He quoted a figure. Ziddiq said,
”impossible.” As soon as his neighbor was gone he
called his eldest son to find what were the prices for
items written in his list. His son came back with his
findings. After reading it he was astounded! A sack of
barley cost only three copper pieces!”
Having ordered for as much as could be bought he had
a problem: ”Where to stock them?”
He knew just the place. He had a large warehouse
where his father put away every thing he had no
immediate use for. Just as his forefathers had done in
the past. It was bursting in its seams as the
expression is. He called a few servants and asked them
to clear up that place. Nothing was to be spared.
Hour’s later servants came to report. They said his
orders were carried out except for a carpet, which was
of size 64”by 37 inches.
“I am in no mood for checking the size of a carpet.”
“But master,” said Samir, ”It was made somewhere in
Samarqand probably late 17th century. It is silk. If
you ask me it is one of the finest.” “Shut up!”Ziddiq
yelled, ”Who asked you for your opinion?”
The silk carpet was decorated with a mihrab design
(a cusped arch with geometric motifs) in the field
counterpoised with arabesque in the spandrels. A
stylized floral pattern running around the edges
completed the piece.
He ordered the laborers to set light to it. “I
shall not have this nonsense here!” The menials balked
at the idea. They pleaded. “A thing of beauty,
master!”Samir cried. He became enraged at the word
beauty and he shoved them aside.
“A thing of beauty such as this has a life of its
own.” Kalam added his. They all pleaded with tears in
their eyes. With uncontrollable rage he pushed them
aside. He himself torched it and said, ”There, you try
to teach me beauty!” He was in a rage. He said, “You
all live a life of ease because I pay you wages in
time. Be gone!” He was so worked up.
That day Ziddiq went home very late. He was tired
but he had found a place for thousands and thousands
of sacks of grains, which came in a convoy one after
the other. Only seeing them secured for the night
eased his fury somewhat. Then he saw how his son had
put his men to guard it. He had done well, and the
father’s heart swelled with pride. The young man gave
him the keys and the accounts and left for home.
Mentally Ziddiq calculated the profit he stood to
make and that made him laugh. In a happy frame of mind
he followed his son.
He went home to eat his frugal supper. Even when he
went through the motions of the nighttime prayer he
had only one thought. He would make all his rivals
bite the dust. So much profit he stood to make. He
wandered through the house and secured the doors for
the night.
At the time he was about to lie down he thought he
heard a knocking sound. As if some were shifting
things around somewhere. So distinct it sounded. His
wife lay asleep. He checked into his sons’ room. They
were also asleep.
“Clickety-Click,” he heard. “It must be from across
the river,” said he. He put out the candle and lay in
bed. The same sound again. “Clikety-Clack!”
”Clikety-Klak!” The sounds came louder this time. He
thought it came from his drawing room. It was distinct
and very ominous. With each minute the clicking sound
went louder and louder. He could not sleep with such
an infernal noise. Again he got out. He lit a candle,
which he could barely hold for fright.
He peeped into the parlor.
There was an intruder!
And he had settled himself in the middle of the
parlor as if he owned the place. He felt a murderous
rage struggling with his fear at the scene presented
before him.
Across the parlor stood a weaving frame; and a very
old man with sad look in his deep-set eyes, went on
working. “What on earth!” It was all he could say. His
fear swallowed the rest of the sentence. Instead a
squeal. Even that did not distract the wizened
intruder. The ghastly apparition of a weaver did not
look up nor acknowledge his presence. Instead he was
bent over the frame intently checking his work. Having
satisfied himself he went on knotting the fibres and
cutting the knots to make naps. Ziddiq had no idea
whether his eyes were deceiving him or some rival of
his was hell-bent for mischief. Before his very eyes
filmed with fear and pricked with hate the old weaver
went on and on. His hands flew over the carpet while
adjusting the warp and the woof without missing a
beat. So free and fluid his movements were. As if he
had been doing it all his life and could have done
even while asleep.
He was masterly in his work.
Ziddiq stood there transfixed. Clickety-click,
clinkety-clank!
Clinkety-clank, So went on the loom while the room
was lit by a spot of light that hovered around the
design, which was becoming clearer with each motion of
his hands. Ziddiq would have screamed but his voice
died silently. The weaver looked at him with sad eyes
that in its hurt, without any rancor whatsoever, no
stab-wound would have come anywhere near. It twisted
his heartstrings beyond endurance.
Ziddiq could only twitch in response.
He trembled uncontrollably when the spectre of a
weaver looked once towards him. Those eyes now seemed
to challenge him. The infernal intruder said, “ My
life was in that carpet. Now I must weave another
because you so callously destroyed it.”
Having said his piece he continued with his task as
if he were alone in his own workshop. He was sad as
before and yet, very resolute. As if he knew he could
do it. Without tiring himself. Ziddiq could do nothing
but watch in horror. He went hot and cold as an
exquisite design began to take shape before his eyes.
Clikety-clack! Clickety-click! The weaver went on
without stopping and he was inhuman that he could draw
for his carpet filaments out of thin air! He wanted to
scream but nothing. He stood there petrified!
Poor Ziddiq! While the swirls of design now settled
down to a pattern he felt short of breath! As if the
ground under his feet gave way to something
insubstantial, and the walls melted and flowed about
him. Clickety-click! clikety- Clak! went on the loom
unrelenting. ‘Clickety-click! Clikety-clak!’ It went
on enveloping everything else.

Next morning the City awoke to some astounding news.
Where the ancestral home of Ziddiq stood nothing ever
remained but a prayer mat. No one could well explain
what occurred in the small hours of the night.
Samir and Kalam came as usual to take orders from
their master. Instead they were witnesses to
something, which no one could explain. There stood not
a trace of the master’s house! Some one had cleaned up
the old wooden beamed house with terrace and balcony
and not even a door hinge lay there; the wrought-iron
washstand where their master always went for wash
before prayers was missing; the folding stool and the
holy book also had vanished! Except a prayer mat.
Passers-by came over by curiosity and all that they
saw was the curiously wrought prayer mat. Nothing
else!
Samir could not take his eyes off it. It didn’t
explain the mystery! Still bewildered he stood there.
Finally he commented, ”A crazy-quilt pattern. I see
Master’s profile his beard and all- so distinct. What
do you think, Kalam?”
“I do not think anything,” Kalam replied, “But the
mat will make some money for a second-hand dealer.”
The End

Cosmic Mind-Time and Space

Cosmic Mind is infinite where Time and Space hold no meaning. As the Scriptures say,’One day is with the Lord as a thousand years…’we expect God to answer us and our so called good acts be paid back in our time. Cosmic Mind has a long range vision and to plumb its depths is a fool’s business.
That reminds me: Cosmic Mind holds no distinction between a fool and a wise man. Why? I can remind you of a parable that I wrote sometime back. Since I find it bothersome to go through my old posts let me post it from my book(available online), Sufficient unto this Day.
A Fool Is A Wise Man (Who just missed the bus)
‘Mad’ Max was designated as the biggest fool who ever lived in a town with a curious name Pie-In-The-Sky. As soon as he learnt to assemble a refrigerator he knew he wanted to sell one. So he took off to the North Pole. But the Inuit didn’t buy a single one and he died a very poor man. All that he left behind was some ice boxes and a technical manual.
On the other hand Dr. Faustus having made a pact with the devil became the most celebrated scholar who knew everything that went under the sun, which passed for knowledge. How the crowned heads and scholars alike feted him! Then came the computers that made him redundant. He died in grief. He said that a machine beat him. Yes.
The world went a-changing! Then came a thaw and ice melted. The polar caps vanished as an icicle in a furnace. The people in Nunavut learned to live with the climate changes. Then someone found the papers of ‘Mad’ Max and it was a discovery that electrified the whole region. They learned to make fridges themselves and control their houses to the right temperature. Who contributed to the welfare of the world more? A fool or a scholar?
Tailspin:In Cosmic Mind the word Success holds a different meaning that we hold. Time shows up the meaninglessness of such distinctions we make of life.
benny

Politics And Morality

Kingdom of Herringbone was a superpower when Cain came to live in the Land of Nod. (I pulled in the name only because I wanted to show the kingdom was very old). When King Red Ears ruled the land, people knew they had a manifest destiny of sorts. Yes that was what the king boasted at all occasions before he started any war. There was only one king he hated most- King Bear Hug of Sidonia also ruled a land as grand as Herringbone. The king had not an army but still he managed to avoid conflicts. King Red Ears had a large standing army and would have annexed this kingdom had it not been for their common religion. King Bear Hug was a good Barmian like them. The Federation of Barmians covered a large area.
It was a time when League of Baloney was set up by some neighboring states,- and they were all heathen, meaning their gods drank blood sitting down. King Totem of the kingdom of Crazy Quilt declared thought that as very disgusting. ‘We are Barmians and our gods drink standing up, the blood that we bring in from our wars.’
It so happened Ah B. Dull of Exxonia, one of the heathen kings found oil in the middle of his kingdom. It just gushed from a lake as large as fifty football fields laid next to one another. The oil was as smooth as butter and it added flavor to their food as no other. King B. Dull sent some casks of oil to King Red Ears since his kingdom adjoined his. King Red Ears found it flavored the food indeed! Immediately he signed a 100- year non aggression treaty with Exxonia. The Heathen King immediately set out to pillage some villages and towns that were within his reach. They were Barmians in their beliefs but technically heathens since they didn’t have kings to rule over them. King of Herringbone defended King of Exxonia bravely and eloquently.

The Barmians thought that was a stab in their backs. They accused Red Ears of helping their common enemy. King Red Ears took a high ground stating that he only signed a Non-aggression Treaty with Exxonia and not with their gods. You see King Red Ears had pretensions to highest morals,- and destined by some divine right to lay down rules of engagement anywhere within his sphere of control.
At some point of time King Bear Hug had some trouble containing the influx of refugees who had come from the neighboring Kingdom of Bug Bears who were heathens. But their kingdom was devastated by some deluge and all able bodied men took shelter in the kingdom of Sidonia. The King took them all: the women were sent to work in their salt mines and men were enlisted to fight his wars, Overnight among the Barmians, King of Sidonia had become very powerful. King Red Ears protested in the Federation of Barmians but somehow the allies all had their own excuses.
King Red Ears was disgusted.
Now what place morals have in the history of nations? How each play one against the other with his moral superiority as in the case of King Red Ears will not work. When the US declare Russia should not interfere in the Caucuses Russia also will point out America’s interference in Kosovo or in the Middle East. This reminds me of pot calling the kettle black.
benny

Illustrated Arabian Nights

My second tale in the above series is now available. The story is titled Tale of The Trader and The Jinn. In case you want to have a preview you can go to www.lulu.com/content/3536092. I have illustrated the text with artwork both watercolor and in pen and ink.

Description: A trader goes on a journey and at a strange place he, by a freak accident, kills a child and his father instantly arrives at the scene. He is a Jinn and he demands, ‘A life for a life,That is only fair.’ The merchant pleads for time to put his affairs in order. One year later he arrives at the same spot and awaits Jinn as promised. It so happens he is in for something extraordinary. As typical of tales from One Thousand and One Night it is to be read and looked at. Let me not spoil your enjoyment by telling any further.

Happy reading, folks!

benny