‘Jan-e Alam the monkey turned into Prince Jan-e Alam,’ the wise monkey told him.
‘How did he suddenly turn from a monkey into a prince?’ For a long time, the young monkey mulled over the wise monkey’s answer and tried to visualize how Jan-e Alam would have changed form from a monkey to a prince. And he memorized the entire speech that Jan-e Alam had delivered from atop the elephant about the fickle, deceitful world and understood all its intricacies of wordplay. He would climb the highest branch of a tree and, standing on two feet, begin reciting Jan-e Alam’s elegantly worded speech: ‘This world of changing colours and double-faced people is a place for invoking awe and horror. It is the cause of a thousand sorrows that even the skies favour the wicked. As a result, a monkey becomes a human and a human becomes a monkey. Everyone is helpless before God’s will. It is the same for oppression and domination. Wherever you look, no one is free. Everyone is entangled in some problem or the other. Such is His command that even a tongueless nonentity such as me has been granted the gift of such eloquence. He has listed you among the listeners. The world is an old whore. Till yesterday, we monkeys jumped from branch to branch and plucked fruits from the high trees. Now our arms are feeble, our claws have worn out, our teeth are like blunt knives. We live on the jaggary and gram given to us by man. Everyone is a buyer of worldly but transient commodities. No one stops to think what they are buying or selling.’
The other monkeys would listen to this speech in open-mouthed wonder. Then they would laugh loudly and call him a human copy. But the wise monkey would look at him with alarm. He would look at the monkey’s back and tail where the hair was receding and his tail was getting rubbed to half its size. And the truth is that the tails of all the monkeys were getting smaller and the hair on their backs was shedding. Their claws had become dull and their teeth had become so loose that even when they tried to close their mouth, their teeth would not stop clattering and they found it difficult to chew gram. The wise monkey would look at them and think, ‘O Master of the Monkeys, will the monkey become so debased that he will turn into a tail-less two-legged creature? Will the monkey race that had once spun stories of monkey-hood in groves and forests be erased from the page of creation?’
The wise monkey’s anxieties proved to be correct. One day, the young monkey came up with a new idea; he began to follow the wise farmer, spouting his speech all the while. The wise monkey kept calling after him saying, ‘O Young Monkey, why are you bent upon losing your life? Why are you going after a human? Spare a thought for your youth. Save yourself from falling into the endless well of humanity.’ But the young monkey did not heed the warning and kept walking on. Out of sheer curiosity, a baby monkey followed him for a long time. The baby monkey returned and told the others how the young monkey had followed the farmer and entered a city of humans and began to walk on two feet and, as he was walking on two feet, his tail got smaller and smaller until it was reduced to a stub.
The wise monkey heard this and, for a long time, sat with his head bent. A fly came and settled on his nose. He sneezed loudly, saw the fly buzzing near his face and opened his mouth wide, then swatted the fly with his paw until finally he grew weary and shut his eyes, and said: ‘He went to be with those to whom he belonged.’
The wise monkey opened his eyes after a long time. And when he finally opened his eyes, he saw that the baby monkey had a large piece of paper in his hand and several monkeys were bent over it. Concerned, he asked them: ‘O Children of Ill Omen, what is it that you hold?’
The baby monkey answered with a lilt in its voice, ‘O Old Monkey, this is a newspaper. I brought this back with me when I went after the young monkey into the city. It carries the testimony of the young monkey.’
The wise monkey heard this and looked in terror at the faces of all the monkeys; he saw that the colour had quite gone from their faces. Then he looked at their tails. He stood up and addressed them thus: ‘You ignoramuses, no power on earth can save you from your fate now.’
And with these words, the wise monkey bounded up to the branch of a tree. And leaping from one tree to the next, he went very far away to some other forest. When he disappeared from sight, the monkeys of the Big Forest saw that their tails were becoming smaller and they could no longer walk on all four legs. And then they all climbed down from the trees.
The Last Man1
g
Eleasuf was the last man in the village. He had taken a vow and sworn upon God’s name that he had been born in human form and would die in human form. And he tried to remain in human form till the very end.
The monkeys had disappeared from the village three days ago. At first the people were surprised; then they were happy because the monkeys that had destroyed crops and ruined gardens had left. But the man who used to tell them not to go fishing on the day of the Sabbath told them that the monkeys were still there, in their midst; it was just that people could no longer see them. The people heard him and were offended; they said, ‘You jest with us.’ But he said, ‘Surely you have jested with God for He had forbidden you to catch fish on the Sabbath and yet you went fishing on the day of the Sabbath. And know that He is the greatest jester of all.’
On the third day, it so happened that Gajrum, the slave girl of Eliazar, went to Eliazar’s bedroom and immediately turned tail and fled to Eliazar’s wife. Eliazar’s wife went to his bedroom and was stunned by what she saw. Soon, the news spread far and wide and people began to come from far and near to Eliazar’s house. They would go to his bedroom and stand stockstill with surprise when they saw a big monkey resting there instead of Eliazar. On the last Sabbath, Eliazar had caught more fish than all the others.
Soon one person gave the news to the other: ‘O Friend, Eliazar has turned into a monkey.’ The other laughed loudly and said, ‘You are jesting with me.’ And he went on laughing, so much that his face turned red, his teeth jutted out, the skin on his face pulled and twisted till he himself became a monkey. Upon seeing this, the first friend was surprised. His mouth fell open, his eyes grew round with wonder and he too turned into a monkey.
Eliab was scared at the sight of Ibn-e Zablun. He said, ‘O Son of Zablun, what has happened to you? Why has your face become distorted?’ These words made Ibn-e Zablun angry; he began to clatter his teeth with fury. This scared Eliab even more; he shouted, ‘O Son of Zablun, may your mother sit in mourning for you! Surely something is wrong with you.’ This enraged Ibn-e Zablun even more; his face became red with anger. He clenched his teeth and pounced at Eliab. It made Eliab shiver with fright and the faces of both began to change – Eliab’s with terror and Ibn-e Zablun’s with anger. Ibn-e Zablun’s anger began to cross all limits. And Eliab began to shrink in size with sheer fright. And the two of them – one a statue of anger, the other an emblem of fear – began to grapple with each other. Their faces kept getting contorted. First their limbs became grotesque, then their voices became so distorted that the words kept getting slurred into each other till they became non-verbal sounds. Then the non-verbal sounds became beastly shrieks. And then both became monkeys.
Eliasuf, who was the most intelligent among them and also the one who remained a man till the end, expressed his anxiety thus: ‘O People, surely something has happened to us. Let us go and meet the man who used to tell us not to catch fish on the Sabbath.’
Eliasuf went with the people to the home of the man and, standing in a circle before his house, kept calling out to him for a long time. But, when the man did not come out, he was disappointed. He addressed the people in a loud voice: ‘O People, the man who used to tell us not to catch fish on the day of the Sabbath has left us and gone away. And if you think about it, it does not bode well for us.’ The people heard this and were terrified. They were caught in the thrall of a terrible fear. Terror caused their faces to be flattened, and their skin became coarse. Eliasuf turned to look at them and was shocked. The people walking behind him had turned into monkeys. He looked ahead and saw no one except monkeys. Then, he looked to th
e left and the right and saw only monkeys in all directions. Scared, he tried to skirt around them and walked from one end of the village to the other.
Let it be known that the village was beside a sea; it had grand houses with high domes and tall gateways. Its markets were crowded and bustling at all times. But within a matter of minutes, the markets were desolate and the houses abandoned. And all around, atop the high domes and the majestic rooftops, only monkeys could be seen.
Dejectedly, Eliasuf turned his gaze in all four directions and wondered aloud: ‘Am I the last man left?’ And the thought terrified him so much that it nearly caused his blood to freeze. But then he was reminded of Eliab and how fear had caused his face to contort till he had turned into a monkey. Then, Eliasuf sought to gain control over his fear. And he took a vow and swore upon God’s name that he had been born in human form and would die in human form. And with a feeling of superiority, he looked upon his fellow beings whose faces had been contorted and said, ‘In reality, I am not from among them, for they are monkeys and I was born of human form.’ And Eliasuf despised his fellow beings. He looked at their flaming-red faces and their hair-covered bodies, and his face began to contort with disgust. But, suddenly, he was reminded of Ibn-e Zablun whose face had been contorted by disgust and he said to himself, ‘Eliasuf, do not despise others for hatred causes man to change his form.’ And thus Eliasuf shied away from the feeling of hatred.
And so Eliasuf forsook the feeling of hatred and said to himself, ‘Surely, I am one of them.’ And then he remembered those days when he was one of them and his heart was overwhelmed with a burst of love. He was reminded of the Prophet Khizr’s2 daughter who was as milky-white as the horse that pulled the Pharaoh’s chariot and whose large house had doors made of sard3 and rafters made of pine. And with that memory came the remembrance of those days when he had entered that house from the rear, whose doors were made of sard and whose rafters were made of pine. And he had gone to the four-poster bed in search of the one his heart longed for. And he had seen the long hair that was damp with dew, the breasts that were aquiver like the young ones of a deer and a belly like a mound of golden wheat with a round bowl filled with sandalwood. And Eliasuf remembered the daughter of Prophet Khizr. And while imagining the young breasts of a deer and the mound of wheat and a round bowl of sandalwood, he reached the house with the doors made of sard and the rafters of pine. He looked at the empty house and searched for her on the four-poster bed and called out, ‘O daughter of Ala Khizr, where are you? You, for whom my heart longs? Look, the harsh months have passed and the flower beds are full of colours. And the birds are chirping on the high branches of the trees. Where are you, O daughter of Khizr? You who sleep on a high four-poster bed in a high-ceilinged room, where are you? By the deer that frolics in the glades and the pigeons that hide in the crevices of mighty rocks, I beseech you to come down and meet me, for my heart longs for you.’ Eliasuf called out again and again until his heart swelled over and, thinking of the daughter of Khizr, he began to cry.
Eliasuf cried as he thought of the daughter of Khizr. But, suddenly, he was reminded of Eliazar’s wife who, upon seeing her husband turn into a monkey, had cried. Eliasuf worked himself to such a state that he began to wail inconsolably and his facial features began to contort behind the tears streaming down his face. And his wail turned into a beastly shriek. Even his body began to change. Then he realized that the daughter of Khizr had turned into those she belonged to. For, verily he who is of a certain set will be raised from among his own.4 And Eliasuf said to himself, ‘O Eliasuf, do not love them or else you will turn into them.’ And with that Eliasuf turned away from love. He became distant from his fellow beings whom he now considered aliens. And he bid adieu forever to the young breasts of a deer and the mound of wheat and the round bowl of sandalwood.
And Eliasuf forsook love and laughed at the sight of the flaming red faces and the erect tails of his fellow beings. And he was reminded of Eliazar’s wife who used to be one of the most beautiful women in the village. She was tall and willowy as a date palm; her breasts were like bunches of grapes. And Eliazar had said to her to watch out, that he would pluck those bunches of grapes. And she with those bunches of grapes had turned away and flounced off in the direction of the beach. Eliazar had gone after her and plucked the fruit and brought home the woman who was tall and willowy as a date palm. And now, there she sat on the high branch of a tree, picking lice from Eliazar’s body and eating them. A shudder ran through Eliazar’s body as he got to his feet and mounted her, his tail erect, his front paws resting on her mangy back as she propped herself on her dirty, limp paws. Eliasuf saw this and laughed, and kept on laughing. And the sound of his laughter grew and grew till the entire village seemed to echo with its sound. And he himself was surprised as to why he was laughing so loudly. Suddenly, he was reminded of that man who had laughed and laughed till he had turned into a monkey. And Eliasuf said to himself, ‘Do not laugh at others for you might turn into an object of laughter yourself.’ And Eliasuf forsook laughter.
Eliasuf forsook laughter. He then experienced a gamut of emotions – love and hatred, anger and sympathy, tears and laughter – and believing his fellow beings to be alien creatures, he distanced himself from them. Their habit of jumping on trees, clattering their teeth and screeching with laughter, fighting over ripe and unripe fruit till they bloodied themselves – all this used to make him cry over his fellow beings or laugh over them; sometimes it would make him cry or get angry; sometimes he would clench his teeth and look at them with derision.
Once, he saw them fighting among themselves and reprimanded them loudly and then was surprised to hear the loudness of his own voice. A few monkeys looked at him disinterestedly and went back to their fighting. Eliasuf’s words ceased to matter, for his relationships with his fellow beings were no longer what they had once been, and this saddened him.
Eliasuf was saddened by his fellow beings, by himself and by the word. He was saddened that for no reason at all they were bereft of the word. He was saddened for himself because the word had been reduced to an empty vessel in his hands. And if one were to think about it, surely today was a sad day, for today the word had died. And Eliasuf mourned the death of the word and fell silent.
Eliasuf fell silent and absolved himself of love and hatred, anger and sympathy, laughter and tears. And he forsook his fellow beings, believing them to be no longer his own, and took refuge in his own self. And taking refuge in his own self, he became like an island: cut off from everyone, a lone speck of land in the midst of deep waters. And the island said to himself: I shall keep aloft the sign of land in the midst of deep waters.
Eliasuf, who well knew the island of his humanity deep within his self, began to protect himself against the deep waters. He built a bulwark around himself so that love and hatred, anger and sympathy, sorrow and happiness could not attack him, and so that no wave of emotion would sweep him away. And Eliasuf began to be fearful of his emotions. And when he had prepared the bulwark, he felt as though a stone had formed inside his heart. Worriedly, he asked, ‘O Lord, am I changing from inside?’ And he looked outwards at his body, and he began to feel as though the stone was coming out and spreading all over his body, his limbs were becoming dry, his skin colourless and his blood lifeless. Then he looked closely at himself yet again and once again he was consumed by anxiety. He began to feel as though his body was becoming covered with hair and his hair turning colourless and stiff. And he began to feel as though his arms and legs were becoming shorter and his head smaller. He was frightened even more and his limbs grew shorter still. And he grew scared and wondered: ‘Will I disappear altogether?’
And Eliasuf remembered Eliab who had so shrunk within himself with terror that he had turned into a monkey. And he resolved that he would conquer the fear inside himself in the same manner as he had conquered the fear outside him.
And Eliasuf conquered the fear inside him and his shrunken limbs began to stretch out and lengthen. H
is limbs became supple and his fingers became long and his hair long and straight and his soles and palms grew long and agile and his joints became nimble till Eliasuf began to feel as though his limbs might scatter. With a mighty resolve, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists and began to collect his scattered self.
Eliasuf closed his eyes so that he would not be awed by his deformed limbs. And when he closed his eyes, he began to feel as though his limbs were changing. Terrified, he asked himself if he was still the same ‘I’. The thought made his heart sink. Fearfully, he opened one eye and looked at his arms and legs. He was reassured to see his limbs looking like they always had. Now he opened both his eyes fearlessly and turned a leisurely gaze over his entire body and said: ‘For certain I am in my own form.’ But soon thereafter, for no reason at all, he began to have misgivings as though his limbs were changing and becoming distorted. Once again, he shut his eyes.
Eliasuf shut his eyes. And when he shut his eyes, his thoughts turned inwards and he began to feel as though he was falling into a dark and bottomless well. He cried out in pain and said, ‘O my dear Lord, there is hell outside me and there is hell inside me.’ And as he fell into the dark and bottomless well, the faces of his fellow beings followed him and the memories of days long past surrounded him. Eliasuf was reminded how his fellow beings had fished on the day of the Sabbath and how they had emptied the sea of its fish and how their greed had increased and how they had continued to fish even on the day of the Sabbath. And how that man who used to tell them not to go fishing on the day of the Sabbath had said, ‘By the Lord who has made the seas deep and made the deep waters sanctuary for the fish, the seas seek refuge from your greedy hands! Beware of inflicting torture on the fish on the day of the Sabbath or else you will be known as those who have brought torture on themselves.’
The Death of Sheherzad Page 12
