The Old Harpist - Daftar-e-Awwal

Gifted musicians were select and scarce in the past, but it was under the time of the famed Caliph Omar that a talented harp player rose to prominence. Spectators were enthralled by his voice, the lovely sound of his instrument, and his engaging demeanor, and they lavished him with cash every time he performed.

Years passed fast, and the musician's voice lost its lovely quality as he grew older. People didn't like him anymore, and the more he attempted to sing, the more his voice sounded like a donkey's braying. People would push him away, and by the time he was seventy, he was destitute and jobless. He eventually reached the end of his rope and turned to God for help:

My Allah, You have blessed me with a long life, yet I have sinned! Despite the fact that I never appreciated Your goodness, You never abandoned me and always provided me with my daily bread. But now that I'm old and frail, I don't have such a lovely voice. In fact, people are revolted by my singing, despite the fact that they used to love it. I swear to You, my Beloved, that from today, I will only play and sing for You and no one else! He sighed and began walking toward the village cemetery, wishing for some privacy.

He found the graveyard deserted as he moved silently through it, swerving between gravestones until he found a place to sit. He sat down as comfortably as he could and began to play his harp to his heart's content till he was completely fatigued and fell asleep. He had a dream that he was in a lush meadow with his soul's wings fully stretched, lifting him gently toward the sun. He desired with all his heart to be able to float in the air indefinitely, but fate would not allow it because his time on earth was not yet up. At the same time, Caliph Omar, who was in his palace, fell asleep in the middle of the day, which was unusual for him, and had a dream in which God ordained him as follows:

Omar, it's time for you to cater to my distinguished subject! He's sound asleep among the gravestones. Take 700 dinars from the public cash you collect on my behalf and give it to him as his salary. Tell him to come back to you when he's finished with it.

With anxiety, Omar awoke, realizing the gravity of his dream. He dashed to the cemetery and searched, but all he found was an old man sleeping by a grave with an ancient harp by his side. He wasn't convinced at first that this could be God's unique subject, so he looked for more information, but to no effect. Finally, he came to the conclusion that the harpist was the man he was supposed to find. Omar sat calmly alongside the old man, unwilling to disturb him because he appeared to be in such a tranquil state, but then he sneezed. The old guy awoke startled and spotted the regal figure seated next to him. With his heart in his mouth, he began pleading with God to save him from the Angel of Death.

No need to be afraid of me, dear one, Omar comforted him, I've brought you wonderful tidings. In fact, Allah has praised you tremendously and has asked me to convey His blessings to you. He's also sent you 700 dinars in compensation for your unpaid pay! You're supposed to come back to me for more when you've used it up.

The elderly musician couldn't believe what he was hearing and became even more upset than before. He let out a heartbreaking howl, tore off his shredded shirt, and bit into his own hand, tremendously agitated. You've degraded me into nothingness, One and Only Allah! he sobbed as he stood up and wandered aimlessly across the cemetery.

He stumbled back in time to discover Omar with his harp in the same position as previously. He snatched up his priceless instrument and shattered it on a neighboring gravestone in one swift swing, ruining his only source of income. He chastised the harp, saying, You've been the veil between God and me. You are the one who led me away from His altar. You've sucked my blood and humiliated me in front of my Creator for nearly seventy years, he said as he bashed the harp repeatedly, reducing it to miniscule slivers of wood.

He said, I seek Your forgiveness, my God. Throughout this long life You've given me, I've sinned. I've spent it singing and performing music, forgetting about the misery of being apart from You, and I alone am to blame for my sorrow and shame, he admitted. Please save me from myself, for my worst adversary is within me, closer than my own pitiful soul!

Omar reassured the disturbed harpist, telling him that he needed to let go of both his past and his future since he was still caught between them; this indicated he wasn't yet one with God and hadn't fully trusted the Creator. The old musician felt a purer light rising in his heart, encompassing his body and soul as he listened to Omar's wise remarks. He felt as if he was letting go of the world he had known up until that point, and he found himself in a different realm, free of superficiality; a world that demanded a different understanding, one in which no words were left to express, and solitude and stillness were the order of the day.

Gifted musicians were select and scarce in the past, but it was under the time of the famed Caliph Omar that a talented harp player rose to prominence. Spectators were enthralled by his voice, the lovely sound of his instrument, and his engaging demeanor, and they lavished him with cash every time he performed.

Years passed fast, and the musician's voice lost its lovely quality as he grew older. People didn't like him anymore, and the more he attempted to sing, the more his voice sounded like a donkey's braying. People would push him away, and by the time he was seventy, he was destitute and jobless. He eventually reached the end of his rope and turned to God for help:

My Allah, You have blessed me with a long life, yet I have sinned! Despite the fact that I never appreciated Your goodness, You never abandoned me and always provided me with my daily bread. But now that I'm old and frail, I don't have such a lovely voice. In fact, people are revolted by my singing, despite the fact that they used to love it. I swear to You, my Beloved, that from today, I will only play and sing for You and no one else! He sighed and began walking toward the village cemetery, wishing for some privacy.

He found the graveyard deserted as he moved silently through it, swerving between gravestones until he found a place to sit. He sat down as comfortably as he could and began to play his harp to his heart's content till he was completely fatigued and fell asleep. He had a dream that he was in a lush meadow with his soul's wings fully stretched, lifting him gently toward the sun. He desired with all his heart to be able to float in the air indefinitely, but fate would not allow it because his time on earth was not yet up. At the same time, Caliph Omar, who was in his palace, fell asleep in the middle of the day, which was unusual for him, and had a dream in which God ordained him as follows:

Omar, it's time for you to cater to my distinguished subject! He's sound asleep among the gravestones. Take 700 dinars from the public cash you collect on my behalf and give it to him as his salary. Tell him to come back to you when he's finished with it.

With anxiety, Omar awoke, realizing the gravity of his dream. He dashed to the cemetery and searched, but all he found was an old man sleeping by a grave with an ancient harp by his side. He wasn't convinced at first that this could be God's unique subject, so he looked for more information, but to no effect. Finally, he came to the conclusion that the harpist was the man he was supposed to find. Omar sat calmly alongside the old man, unwilling to disturb him because he appeared to be in such a tranquil state, but then he sneezed. The old guy awoke startled and spotted the regal figure seated next to him. With his heart in his mouth, he began pleading with God to save him from the Angel of Death.

No need to be afraid of me, dear one, Omar comforted him, I've brought you wonderful tidings. In fact, Allah has praised you tremendously and has asked me to convey His blessings to you. He's also sent you 700 dinars in compensation for your unpaid pay! You're supposed to come back to me for more when you've used it up.

The elderly musician couldn't believe what he was hearing and became even more upset than before. He let out a heartbreaking howl, tore off his shredded shirt, and bit into his own hand, tremendously agitated. You've degraded me into nothingness, One and Only Allah! he sobbed as he stood up and wandered aimlessly across the cemetery.

He stumbled back in time to discover Omar with his harp in the same position as previously. He snatched up his priceless instrument and shattered it on a neighboring gravestone in one swift swing, ruining his only source of income. He chastised the harp, saying, You've been the veil between God and me. You are the one who led me away from His altar. You've sucked my blood and humiliated me in front of my Creator for nearly seventy years, he said as he bashed the harp repeatedly, reducing it to miniscule slivers of wood.

He said, I seek Your forgiveness, my God. Throughout this long life You've given me, I've sinned. I've spent it singing and performing music, forgetting about the misery of being apart from You, and I alone am to blame for my sorrow and shame, he admitted. Please save me from myself, for my worst adversary is within me, closer than my own pitiful soul!

Omar reassured the disturbed harpist, telling him that he needed to let go of both his past and his future since he was still caught between them; this indicated he wasn't yet one with God and hadn't fully trusted the Creator. The old musician felt a purer light rising in his heart, encompassing his body and soul as he listened to Omar's wise remarks. He felt as if he was letting go of the world he had known up until that point, and he found himself in a different realm, free of superficiality; a world that demanded a different understanding, one in which no words were left to express, and solitude and stillness were the order of the day.