The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 26: Wisdom and Vanity

SALMAN

  
Buraq, as fast as lightning when it came to pace, slow as an elderly when it came to apologizing.
  
The moment had happened when Salman was already stressing about Ilyas’s situation. There was also the other concern: worthiness. That concern always tried to find a way to wriggle into other matters. So far, Salman was doing a decent job at resisting them.
  
That was when a horse galloped towards them. At first, Salman was petrified as if the horse was going to trample all over him, then he relaxed when the steed stopped right in front of him. That was when he realized that Buraq had come to him. He had recognized him by the white spot on the side of his face.
  
‘Ah, Buraq, haven’t you since … well, you know.’
  
Buraq snorted and swayed his head.
  
‘Oh so you have come to apologize? Only took you about … nearly five months. Not very quick, admittedly. Ah well, apology accepted nonetheless.’
  
Buraq neighed.
  
‘A little stroll you say? Well, I doubt that should be allowed on occasions that don’t involve training or scouting.’
  
A disappointed snort.
  
‘You will have your “moment of glory” soon enough. Probably with me, for that is one of the things I am searching for.’
  
‘The first sign of madness: talking to creatures that do not talk.’
  
Salman sighed when he heard the familiar voice.
  
‘I do not like the fact that you chose to talk to me so soon, Ali.’ He said.
  
‘Admittedly, I was just here to see the horse.’ Ali revealed as he stroked the steed’s mane.
  
‘He has a name, you know.’
  
‘Buraq, I know. Clever. Have you told him about his namesake? Be careful now, he might go to Jerusalem in one gallop.’
  
Salman chuckled a bit at his comment, but then he remembered the stray insult.
  
‘You should know better, honestly,’ he scolded. ‘I believe animals understand what we say, and I try to understand them.’
  
‘When was I bashing you for it? I would have been a hypocrite otherwise. Before you were even born, I was talking to rats; interesting little creatures.’
  
‘That is … mildly concerning.’
  
‘Worry not, I moved on to cats a year after that.’
  
Buraq seemed to be enjoying Ali’s affection as it gave a neigh of satisfaction.
  
‘He likes you, I think.’ Salman commented.
  
‘That is good to know, I like him too. You should definitely talk to him more, even if he can't speak the tongues of men. There is something special about people talking despite not being able to speak the same language. It just proves that uttering sounds isn’t the only form of communication, for words, in their purest form, come from the soul. And our souls are made from the same Hand, so they understand one another with no words.’
  
‘Like a language with no words?’
  
‘You are understanding Salman; quick to notice. That is exactly what I am saying. When it comes to words, language is simply something that is a series of sounds that’s meaning a person either understands or does not. But the language with no words, that is something everyone understands. What is the language? That language is action. A thousand words of kindness do not equate to one act of charity. Then there is the Language of the Soul, which is spoken by the soul. That is the language you are speaking right now to Buraq.’
  
‘That is an interesting perspective.’
  
‘Peculiar, is it not?’
  
‘It is. I have now begun to realize how strange the world really is. I always thought it was mechanical, running on the rules that are set up by the universe. Turns out, that is not the case.’
  
Salman began to notice everything around him at that moment. The blades of green grass as they swayed silently by the quiet wind, the snow on the mountains, and the rushing river as it sparkled to the late winter sun.
  
‘The rules are never broken,’ Ali said. ‘The thing is, there are so many rules, and so many possibilities, that the world will never see all of the miracles of the universe.’
  
Miracles. They were always real. Whether that be the miracles of the prophets, or the little miracles that took place in one’s day to day life. They were there. One just had to look for them.
  
‘Oh no, you are being trapped in a trance,’ Ali’s voice came as if from nowhere. ‘You are not quite ready for that. Remember Ilyas!’
  
It was as if someone had roughly pulled him while he was riding a camel. Salman recoiled.
  
‘What was that for?’ Salman asked with knitted eyebrows.
  
‘That was a trance, young scholar,’ Ali replied matter-of-factly. ‘That is usually something that happens when the mind wanders into the world of the soul. In your words, you simply blacked out.’
  
‘I was enjoying it.’
  
‘One also enjoys alcohol. That does not mean it is good for you.’
  
‘Forget it now, I need to ponder on the challenge you gave me.’
  
‘You will melt your mind with the heat that is produced from overthinking. You are a wild horse, Salman. Be like Buraq over here, patient and knows what to think.’
   Buraq neighed as if it was an agreement to Ali’s compliment.
   ‘As I was saying, thoughts are something that are supposed to be tamed. They will be like disobedient cattle. They will try to stray or run away from you. What your job is to try and have these thoughts be under control. When you have them in control, they will be obedient to you. You are the shepherd of your mind, Salman. Rowdy sheeps will require a patient tender. Each sheep, like each thought is different, so you will need to confront each of those thoughts in a different manner. Why do you think every prophet was a shepherd? So that they can herd people effectively.’
  
‘How do I do it, Ali? I do not know the ways. I am a shepherd with no training, who knows nothing of milking or making cheese. I have no staff, and no will to herd.’
  
‘One at a time, Salman. Tame one thought. The others aren’t going anywhere else. Once you that one thought, it will be forever obedient, then you move to the other, then to the other. Soon, you know everything there is to know of being a shepherd.’
  
Ali’s words were comforting. They had a tinge of warmness to them, and had a slice of hope. They made Salman believe that he may be able to do exactly what Ali said.
  
‘Thank you, again.’ Salman said.
  
‘A pleasure to help, as always,’ he replied. ‘Make sure to not overburden your mind, for it is the shoulders of your intellectual body.’
  
Salman nodded.
  
‘I will make sure to keep your words in mind.’

ISMAEL

  
The carving was coming together nicely. Ismael’s knife found its way to make simple shapes. The sculpture itself was supposed to be simple as well. Nothing like those great statues of marble that they carved in the west. Ismael always thought it was unnecessary to make such intricate copies of the human body when the same message could be portrayed with simple things like squares and circles.
  
As his knife cut a thin piece of wood, Ismael began to recite a poem. It was one by Al Mutanabbi if he remembered correctly.

Our dead we mourn, though we very well know,
That but Vanity they leave ere they go.
Reflection upon life's hard course shall teach
‘Tis one to die as be slain by a foe.

The lines spoke to him in some way. They were as if they were written specifically for him. Ismael wondered if either he or Ali should leave this world, would they leave pride and ego? Hopefully not. Then what did Ismael want to leave behind when he died?
  
That sparked some kind of pondering in Ismael. He dropped his dagger and carving to scratch his head. What does one need to leave behind when they die? Wealth, perhaps? Ismael had none of that. Perhaps wisdom? Ali could, but not him. Kindness could be a contender, but was there anyone in the world solely known for his kindness? There were many popular people in history who were kind, but that wasn’t their reason for fame.
  
Ismael rattled his brains. What did people want the most in their lives? Something that would help them, something that would make them explore the world, something like a lesson.
  
A lesson.
  
Yes, a lesson. Abrat. A moral, an example, something from which people could learn. People would look towards the grave of his and say: ‘O Ismael! When you departed, you left behind this lesson for us. We have learned from it, and we have become better people because of it.’ What would be that lesson? Ismael wasn’t sure. Would it be something negative, or something to follow? Ismael wasn’t sure of that as well. What would be that lesson?
  
Ismael fantasized about what the great example would be for a long time, but in the end, he had decided that it didn’t really matter what the lesson was. What mattered was if people learned from it and became better people.
  
The man smiled. Yes, that would be a wonderful thing to leave behind.