inflicted by the sharp blades of hismadness began to heal. Like an innocent child, he placed his complete trust in Nowfal; as tranquillity returned to his spirit, a change came over his whole life. Without further ado, he left the cave and went back with Nowfal to his camp on the edge of the town.
Under the protection of his new benefactor, Majnun no longer deserved to be called ‘majnun’. Within days, his madness had gone and he had become Kais again, the strong and handsome young nobleman he once used to be. For the first time in months he took a bath; then he put on the fine turban and robes that Nowfal had prepared for him. His appetite returned and he ate and drank with gusto in the company of friends, reciting his odes and his sonnets to them rather than to the wind and the clouds. Colour flooded back into his pinched, sallow cheeks; once bent like a broken reed, he now stood tall and straight like a firm young sapling. The flower, its petals once scattered by the storm, was in bloom again.
Since he had returned to the world of men, Majnun’s view of the world and of nature had also changed. No longer did he ignore the pages of the book of creation that God opened each day before his very eyes. The golden finery of morning brought him delight once more, as though he were witnessing the miracle of dawn for the first time. He matched the midday laughter of the sun with his own beaming smiles, and he became one voice with the birds at evensong. Much to everyone’s surprise and delight, Majnun had joined the world of men again.
If Majnun was happy, Nowfal was even happier, forit was he who had worked this miracle. He was like a spring cloud, sprinkling its showers over the parched earth. Every day, he would bring new gifts for his recuperating friend; nothing was too expensive or extravagant. He kept Majnun by his side at all times, refusing to be parted from him for even an hour. Neither Nowfal nor Majnun had ever known such deep friendship. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, storm clouds started to gather on the horizon.
Chapter 17
I t was a day like any other day. Majnun and Nowfal were sitting together, relaxed and happy in each other’s company, friendly conversation flowing from their lips. Suddenly, Majnun’s smile died and his face clouded over. Tears filled his eyes and he started to recite:
The grief in my heart does not move you;
No pain do you feel when I weep.
Of the promises made in abundance,
Not a single one do you keep.
You vowed you would quench my desire,
Yet unyielding were you from the start;
Content to stir love’s blazing fire,
And with empty words ravage my heart.
Nowfal sat in unhappy silence, wondering how so bitter a drop could have fallen undetected into the cup of their friendship. What could he say? How was he to respond? He had no weapon against this attack, no words with which to repel this sudden assault. All he could do was lower his eyes to hide the hurt he was feeling.
It was clear that the events of the past few months had done nothing to diminish Majnun’s desire for Layla; it burned more fiercely than ever. It did not matter to Majnun how difficult the task was: whatever risks or dangers it involved, Nowfal had given his word and was now duty-bound to carry it out. He had to fulfil what he had promised. Bitterly, Majnun continued: ‘How quick you were to make those promises, yet how silent you are now! Are you content to sit there and watch my heart break, while you yourself do nothing? My well of patience has dried up; my stock of reason has run out. If you do not help me, I shall die! Or perhaps I should seek assistance from better friends? I was weak, friendless, broken and dying of thirst for the water of life, and you promised to change all that. Yet you do nothing — nothing, that is, except break your promises. What kind of man are you? Has the Lord not commanded His bondsmen to give food to the hungry, to give water to those
Under the protection of his new benefactor, Majnun no longer deserved to be called ‘majnun’. Within days, his madness had gone and he had become Kais again, the strong and handsome young nobleman he once used to be. For the first time in months he took a bath; then he put on the fine turban and robes that Nowfal had prepared for him. His appetite returned and he ate and drank with gusto in the company of friends, reciting his odes and his sonnets to them rather than to the wind and the clouds. Colour flooded back into his pinched, sallow cheeks; once bent like a broken reed, he now stood tall and straight like a firm young sapling. The flower, its petals once scattered by the storm, was in bloom again.
Since he had returned to the world of men, Majnun’s view of the world and of nature had also changed. No longer did he ignore the pages of the book of creation that God opened each day before his very eyes. The golden finery of morning brought him delight once more, as though he were witnessing the miracle of dawn for the first time. He matched the midday laughter of the sun with his own beaming smiles, and he became one voice with the birds at evensong. Much to everyone’s surprise and delight, Majnun had joined the world of men again.
If Majnun was happy, Nowfal was even happier, forit was he who had worked this miracle. He was like a spring cloud, sprinkling its showers over the parched earth. Every day, he would bring new gifts for his recuperating friend; nothing was too expensive or extravagant. He kept Majnun by his side at all times, refusing to be parted from him for even an hour. Neither Nowfal nor Majnun had ever known such deep friendship. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, storm clouds started to gather on the horizon.
Chapter 17
I t was a day like any other day. Majnun and Nowfal were sitting together, relaxed and happy in each other’s company, friendly conversation flowing from their lips. Suddenly, Majnun’s smile died and his face clouded over. Tears filled his eyes and he started to recite:
The grief in my heart does not move you;
No pain do you feel when I weep.
Of the promises made in abundance,
Not a single one do you keep.
You vowed you would quench my desire,
Yet unyielding were you from the start;
Content to stir love’s blazing fire,
And with empty words ravage my heart.
Nowfal sat in unhappy silence, wondering how so bitter a drop could have fallen undetected into the cup of their friendship. What could he say? How was he to respond? He had no weapon against this attack, no words with which to repel this sudden assault. All he could do was lower his eyes to hide the hurt he was feeling.
It was clear that the events of the past few months had done nothing to diminish Majnun’s desire for Layla; it burned more fiercely than ever. It did not matter to Majnun how difficult the task was: whatever risks or dangers it involved, Nowfal had given his word and was now duty-bound to carry it out. He had to fulfil what he had promised. Bitterly, Majnun continued: ‘How quick you were to make those promises, yet how silent you are now! Are you content to sit there and watch my heart break, while you yourself do nothing? My well of patience has dried up; my stock of reason has run out. If you do not help me, I shall die! Or perhaps I should seek assistance from better friends? I was weak, friendless, broken and dying of thirst for the water of life, and you promised to change all that. Yet you do nothing — nothing, that is, except break your promises. What kind of man are you? Has the Lord not commanded His bondsmen to give food to the hungry, to give water to those
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