# Fire on the Mountain-Top

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-19 — 1 clipping.*

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> Source: Bahá'í Library Online (bahai-library.com), curated by Jonah Winters. Used by permission of the curator. Original citation: Gloria A. Faizi, Fire on the Mountain-Top, London: Bahá'í Publishing Trust, 1973/2005, bahai-library.com.
> ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
> 
> Fire
> on the
> mountain-top
> 
> by
> Gloria Faizi
> © Gloria A. Faizi
> 
> All rights reserved
> 
> No part of this publication may be translated or
> reproduced in any form or by any means without
> the written permission of the copyright owner.
> 
> Cover by ‘Faizí Designs’
> 
> Revised edition: 2003
> Reprint: 2005
> 
> ISBN: 81-7896-029-X
> 
> Baha’í Publishing Trust
> F-3/6, Okhla Industrial Area, Phase-I
> New Delhi – 110 020, India
> 
> Printed at Link Printers, New Delhi-20
> To the Pioneers of Arabia
> 
> These stories are based on accounts
> gathered in Persia by ‘Azízu’llah Sulaymaní.
> They are not given here in chronological order.
> By the same author:
> 
> The Bahá’í Faith—An Introduction
> Bahá’u’lláh—The Promised One
> Stories About Bahá’í Funds
> The Promise of Lord Krishna
> Flowers of One Garden
> Poems for Children
> 
> Three articles under one cover about
> Hindu concepts from a Baha’í perspective:
> 
> Man and His Creator
> The Manifestations of God
> Prayer and Meditation
> “Ye are even as the fire
> which in the darkness of the night
> has been kindled upon the mountain-top”
> Contents
> Introduction… ................................................................................................................... ..           1
> Poets of Isfahan.. .............................................................................................................. ..           5
> The story of Na‘ím and his friends.. ........................................................................ ..                               9
> The vengeance of the mujtahids............................................................................... ..                              12
> A teaching trip................................................................................................................... ..         16
> Firesides............................................................................................................................... ..   20
> Raised from the dead.. ................................................................................................... ..                 22
> The wolf and the lamb................................................................................................... ..                   23
> Persecutions in Yazd.. .................................................................................................... ..                27
> A noble son.. ....................................................................................................................... ..      29
> Prophecies fulfilled.. ....................................................................................................... ..             32
> The journey to Yazd.. ..................................................................................................... ..                34
> Bahram’s companion.. ................................................................................................... ..                   36
> The story of ‘Abbas-Abad.. .......................................................................................... ..                      37
> The flight to Kashan.. ..................................................................................................... ..               41
> A father’s grief................................................................................................................... ..        42
> The honoured guest.. ..................................................................................................... ..                 43
> Hitting the mark.. ............................................................................................................. ..           45
> Change of fortune.. .......................................................................................................... ..             47
> Giving to the end.. ............................................................................................................ ..           48
> The Jewish physician.. ................................................................................................... ..                 49
> Teaching in Hamadan.. .................................................................................................. ..                   50
> The difficult crossing.. ................................................................................................... ..               53
> Father and son.. ................................................................................................................ ..          55
> A plan that worked.. ....................................................................................................... ..               59
> Brothers at last.. ............................................................................................................... ..         61
> The journey of the mystic.. .......................................................................................... ..                     63
> Vujdaní and the Mulla.. ................................................................................................. ..                  68
> The road to Hamadan.. .................................................................................................. ..                   71
> 
> vii
> The essence of dates.. .................................................................................................... .. ..... 73
> The dumb prisoner.. ....................................................................................................... .. ..... 75
> Varqa’s poem.. ................................................................................................................... .. ..... 76
> The prisoners in Zanjan................................................................................................ .. ..... 77
> The children.. ..................................................................................................................... .. ..... 81
> The child-martyr.............................................................................................................. .. ..... 84
> Contacting the prisoners.............................................................................................. .. ..... 91
> A strange incident.. ......................................................................................................... .. ..... 92
> Blind hatred.. ..................................................................................................................... .. ..... 94
> Never at a loss.. ................................................................................................................. .. ..... 95
> A brave soul........................................................................................................................ .. ..... 95
> Prison life with Mulla Rida.......................................................................................... .. ..... 98
> A warm welcome.. ........................................................................................................... .. ..... 99
> Rebirth….. ............................................................................................................................ .. ..... 99
> Tests….….. ............................................................................................................................ .. .. 103
> A famous doctor.. ............................................................................................................. .. .. 111
> Methods of teaching.. ..................................................................................................... .. .. 113
> The Baha’í Centre.. .......................................................................................................... .. .. 117
> “You are right!”.. ............................................................................................................... .. .. 118
> An illiterate teacher and his learned pupil.......................................................... .. .. 119
> The final proof................................................................................................................... .. .. 120
> Abu’l-Fadl at home.......................................................................................................... .. .. 121
> The “Baha’í Mulla”.. ......................................................................................................... .. .. 122
> A unique servant.. ............................................................................................................ .. .. 123
> The murder in ‘Ishqabad.. ........................................................................................... .. .. 124
> Meetings in Tihran.. ........................................................................................................ .. .. 128
> The miracle......................................................................................................................... .. .. 132
> The challenge from the pulpit.. ................................................................................. .. .. 133
> Furughí’s turn.................................................................................................................... .. .. 135
> The magician...................................................................................................................... .. .. 137
> Two princes........................................................................................................................ .. .. 139
> Names of the main characters in the book.. ........................................................ .. .. 143
> 
> viii
> Introduction
> The incidents related in this book are taken from the lives of people
> who belong to our own age. These people came from every walk of life;
> some were from the ranks of the rich nobility, others were poor, simple
> folk; some were among the learned and famous scholars of their day, while
> others were completely illiterate. The only thing they had in common was
> their Faith. They were all inspired by the vision of a glorious Day when the
> Kingdom of God would be established on earth, and the different races and
> religions of the world would be united in true brotherhood. Though they
> themselves would not live to see that day, they were prepared to sacrifice
> all they had if by doing so they could raise the call to unity, and prove to an
> unbelieving world that the wolf and the lamb could truly drink from the
> same stream. They derived their inspiration from the same source: the
> Messenger of God Who comes in every age.
> In 1844, a Youth from Shíraz, in Persia, claimed to be the Herald of the
> One Whose advent had been promised by the Founders of all the religions
> of the past. He called Himself the Bab, which means the Gate. He taught
> that the old Dispensation had come to an end, and He had come to usher in
> a new age. He called upon His followers to sanctify their lives and prepare
> themselves for the coming of “Him Whom God shall make Manifest”.
> The Bab’s saintly life and inspired teachings soon won Him thousands of
> followers from among His countrymen. The clergy were greatly alarmed
> and, using their unchallenged power over the government and the mass of
> ignorant people around them, started a nation-wide attack on the new
> Faith. Many thousands of its adherents—known as Babís—were tortured
> to death. The Bab—that youthful and gentle Prophet to Whose greatness
> friends and foes alike have attested—was Himself publicly martyred in the
> hope that the Movement He had started would die with Him. He willingly
> laid down His life as a sacrifice to the One Who was soon to appear.
> 
> Baha’u’llah (the Glory of God) declared His mission in 1863. He claimed
> to be the great Messenger foretold in all the Holy Scriptures. His mission,
> He said, was to bring about the unity of mankind and establish the Kingdom
> of God on earth.
> The followers of the Bab, having recognized Baha’u’llah and accepted
> His claim, became known as Baha ’ís, while the influence of Baha’u’llah’s
> teachings was immediately felt among people of all classes and members of
> conflicting religious sects. High officials and illiterate peasants forgot their
> differences as they sat together in the presence of Baha’u’llah; Jews,
> Muslims, Christians and Zoroastrians became united as one family through
> the love He was able to create in their hearts.
> The fanatical clergy, who had hoped to extinguish the fire which the Bab
> had kindled in the heart of Persia, became increasingly alarmed at the
> influence of Baha’u’llah’s teachings and vowed not to rest till they had
> uprooted the new Movement from their midst. Using every means in their
> power, they set out to undermine its prestige, stain its fair name and stir
> the ignorant mass of people against its followers. Baha’u’llah Himself
> suffered torture, imprisonment and exile at their hands, but no power
> could stop the growth of His Cause.
> Baha’u’llah appointed His Son., ‘Abdu’l-Baha, as “the Centre of His
> Covenant” to whom all Baha’ís should turn for guidance after He, Himself,
> had passed away. ‘Abdu’l-Baha, Who had willingly shared His Father’s exile
> and imprisonment since He was a child, had already won the love and
> respect of the Baha’ís through His great devotion to the Cause of
> Baha’u’llah. He dedicated His entire life to the service of humanity and the
> promotion of the new Faith. His wisdom and His overflowing love for His
> fellow-men won him hundreds of admirers all over the world. The Master,
> as He was often called, came to be known as the father of the orphan and
> the friend of the poor.
> Inspired by the life of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, and led by His unerring guidance,
> Baha’ís scattered throughout the world and took the Message of Baha’u’llah
> to every corner of the globe. This book, however, deals with incidents in
> the lives of some of those early believers who spread the Faith in the land
> of its birth, and whose memory will always be cherished by their
> 
> fellow-believers everywhere.
> As we read about these early Baha ’ís, we realize that they were in many
> ways very much like ourselves, for they too had human weaknesses and
> shortcomings. Their greatness lay in the quality of their faith in Baha’u’llah
> and His Message. This was the secret of their victory—despite their
> shortcomings.
> *****
> 
> Poets of Iṣfahán
> The orchards around Isfahan are beautiful in early spring. Hundreds of
> almond trees are covered in white blossoms, while between them, here and
> there, are splashes of pink from the blossoms on the peach trees. Under
> this canopy of delicate bloom, the new crop is growing and the green is like
> a rich velvet carpet spread out as far as the eye can see. The sunshine is
> warm, the air is perfumed and the birds sing love-songs all the day.
> In an orchard such as this, a group of talented young men sat together,
> many years ago. Na‘ím, the gifted poet, had just finished reading his latest
> poem, and his friends were full of admiration. “How do you do it?”
> exclaimed Sína. “There are very few poets who can write about religion in
> such beautiful, flowing verse.” “The most wonderful thing,” said Nayyir, “is
> that there is nothing grave and solemn about it. Na‘ím can write about an
> ancient saint with the same fresh sweetness as he can describe a rose-bud
> in spring.” “Come, come,” said the modest poet, “both of you brothers write
> beautiful poetry yourselves. And what about the rest of you?” he said,
> turning to the others. “Let us hear what you have all been writing since we
> met.”
> There they sat among the colours and music of nature, reciting poetry,
> discussing topics of every kind and trying to unravel the mysteries of life.
> Soon they were back on the subject of religion, and each had something to
> say:
> “It is impossible to find a religious person who is not prejudiced against
> every other religion but his own.”
> “This is because every one of them is quite sure his own religion is the
> right one, and all others are false.”
> “Their attitude is quite illogical, yet how can an impartial person
> searching for true religion be sure of finding it?”
> “He should first make a study of every religion and then decide between
> them.”
> “Every religion! It would take a hundred lifetimes! Even if it were
> possible for one man to do it, how can he be sure he is able
> 
> to make the right choice in the end? Ten different people, using their own
> intelligence, would probably arrive at ten different conclusions.”
> “Does it matter?”
> “Of course. All religions teach that God has indicated the path we must
> take in every age. If this is true, people going in ten different directions
> could not all have found the right path. Besides, there can be no
> cooperation and unity of purpose between these men, which is the trouble
> between people professing different religions today.”
> “What, then, is the answer? Should we believe that God has provided
> the Path and then made it impossible for us to find it?”
> “This cannot be. What is certain, however, is that Man cannot hope to
> find the true path without the help of God. Once we realize our limitations,
> we will be prepared to ask for that help. We ourselves must, of course,
> make the effort to find Truth, forsaking our prejudices and using our
> intelligence, but more important than all is that we must purify our hearts
> and pray for Divine guidance.”
> From what we know about these young men, their discussion on
> religion must have been something like this. Whatever the words and
> arguments they used, they came to the conclusion that they themselves
> should, putting their trust in God, mix with every group, listen to every
> argument and never give up hope until they were fully convinced that they
> had been guided to the object of their search.
> Such a discussion on religion, with the final decision it led to, may not
> seem strange to us today because we live at a time when many young
> people question and doubt old standards. Few of those living in the past
> century, however, felt and spoke as we do about problems concerning
> religion. They were born and bred within a certain sect, and any digression
> from its beliefs was considered disastrous. Those who doubted the
> accepted ideas around them did not often have the courage to admit it.
> Seldom, indeed, did they set out to investigate other religions with the
> intention of seeking Truth, wherever the path might lead them.
> *****
> The travellers were sitting in one of the rooms at the inn in Tabriz. Two
> of them had sat with other friends in an orchard outside Isfahan
> 
> discussing religion one day, but a long time had passed since then and they
> were no nearer the Truth they had hoped to find. Did God truly answer the
> prayer of those who asked for guidance?
> A horseman had just arrived. He rode up to the room which the
> travellers from Isfahan occupied and alighted from his horse. The men had
> never seen him before, but welcomed the stranger as he walked in. The
> newcomer, looking round the room, saw two men who worked at the inn.
> He asked one of them to attend to his horse and sent the other to prepare
> the hubble-bubble pipe. After they had left the room, he sat down and
> started talking to the young travellers. “Have you heard the glad tidings?”
> he asked. He spoke of the advent of a new Messenger from God, the One
> Whose coming had been promised by all the religions of the past. He told
> them about the young Herald who had come to prepare the way for the
> great Messenger, and Who had sacrificed His life for His Cause.
> The travellers listened with mixed feelings. This kind of talk was
> attributed to the Babís,* whose very name was distasteful to all Muslims.
> The stranger went on to tell them of the signs and proofs with which
> these twin Messengers had appeared. So great was his faith, so eloquent
> his argument, that the travellers listened with rising interest. After some
> time, he said: “Now you must hear some of those gem-like verses that have
> streamed from the pen of the Promised One.” Taking a folded paper from
> his pocket, he proceeded to chant verses of such beauty and grandeur that
> the travellers sat spell-bound as they listened. They had heard nothing like
> it before. The majesty of those heavenly words, chanted in the most
> impressive manner, stirred the depths of their souls.
> When he had finished, the stranger folded the paper and, touching it to
> his lips and forehead as a sign of reverence, presented it to his hosts. He
> had sown the seeds of faith in their hearts and now, his mission
> accomplished, he called for his horse and rose to go.
> Who was he? Where did he come from and to what destination was he
> bound? His name is not important. He was a willing instrument that had
> been used by the Hand of God.
> *****
> 
> *
> The Baha’ís were still called Babís by most people.
> Thousands of people had gathered from the villages around to see the
> Baha’ís being paraded through the streets. There were five of them, their
> shoulders tied in such a way that they had to take every step together or
> fall down in the snow.
> Their naked bodies were bruised and swollen with the beating they had
> received all night. Even now as they moved slowly along, the mob kicked
> them and threw stones at them, while the guards used their rods on their
> wounded backs with such severity that some among the crowd could not
> bear to look on. An aged father pleaded with the guards for their pity as he
> saw his only son tortured before his eyes; a sister, in sheer desperation,
> tore the earrings from her bleeding ears and handed them to one of the
> guards, begging him to stop lashing her brother—but none showed any
> mercy.
> The victims themselves surprised the onlookers by their calm and
> fortitude, one of them murmuring to himself:
> Truth is Truth, even if all defy it;
> Day is day, though blind men may deny it.
> He, and three of the others, had once sat with their friends in a beautiful
> orchard and vowed to set out in search of Truth. This is where the path had
> led them.
> *****
> Four weary men were dragging themselves along the dusty road. They
> had been able to escape with their lives from Isfahan, but they had had
> nothing to eat or drink that day and were too weak to go on much farther.
> Someone happened to be passing that way. The men asked him
> whether they could find any water near by, and he pointed out a place to
> them. Na‘ím, who had a little more strength left in him than the others, set
> out with an empty jar, but he was so exhausted on the way back that he
> could not walk up to his companions. The other three men were even
> weaker than he was, so they all had to wait till Na‘ím could make the effort
> to reach them with the precious water.
> They had no money to buy food. Before leaving the city, Na‘ím, who had
> been a rich man, had sent a message to his wife asking
> 
> her to let him have a small sum of money in order to help him reach Tihran,
> but his wife had sent the messenger away saying she would not help a Babí.
> She had taken possession of all Na‘ím’s property and was already married
> to another man.
> The four companions eventually found a dervish who was prepared to
> lend them a small silver coin with which they bought some food on the way.
> Later on in Tihran they went through considerable trouble in order to find
> this dervish and give him back the money. They found him to be a
> receptive soul and gave him the new Message as well.
> In Tihran, Na‘ím could often be seen sitting in the corner of a cold, bare
> room transcribing the Writings of the Bab and Baha’u’llah for his fellow-
> believers. He earned a few copper coins each day and lived in great
> poverty. In order to warm his hands, he would gather horse dung from the
> streets in the early mornings to burn in his little tin samovar, but he
> managed to set aside some coins with which to buy a little tea and sugar to
> serve to his friends on Fridays when they gathered in his room to study the
> Writings of their Faith. They read by the light of a small fire of dried twigs
> which had also been painfully gathered during the week; yet, so eager were
> they to study these precious Writings that they often sat up through the
> whole night taking turns at chanting the verses.
> In the morning as they rose to go, the friends could never tell what fresh
> affliction they might each be called upon to endure before they met again,
> but they were always, and under all circumstances, prepared to say with
> Na‘ím:
> I do not know, O Lord, what’s best for me;
> I only ask for that which comes from Thee.
> 
> The story of Na‘ím and his friends
> Na‘ím, the famous Baha’í poet, was a great friend of Nayyir and Sína. He
> had known the brothers since childhood when they lived among some of
> the most superstitious and fanatical Muslims in a village near Isfahan. In
> their youth these men were drawn into close friendship because of their
> similar tastes, and they gradually
> 
> formed a circle of friends who read and criticized each other’s poetry and
> discussed topics of every nature.
> They were particularly interested in religion, and their studies and
> discussions on this subject led them to decide that they should each
> independently investigate truth for themselves; but should one of them
> arrive at the goal of this difficult journey and feel convinced that he had
> indeed found the object of his search, he should then take upon himself the
> obligation of informing his friends.
> Nayyir and Sína were the first to embrace the Baha ’í Faith. They were
> away from their own home at that time but, faithful to their pledge, they
> hurried back to bring the glad tidings to their friends. Na‘ím listened with
> great interest as they gave him the Message, and soon became a staunch
> follower of the new Cause. One or two others among their friends were
> also drawn to the Faith, but the rest felt reluctant to associate with anyone
> who spoke in favour of the Baha ’ís, much less were they prepared to listen
> to ideas accepted by people who were already branded as enemies of God
> and religion.
> From that time rumours were spread in the village that Nayyir and Sína,
> as well as Na‘ím and a few others, had left the, Faith of Islam to join hands
> with the Baha’ís, and were now engaged in misleading others. Most people,
> however, who loved and respected these men would not believe the
> rumours, while their few enemies had no way of proving anything against
> them.
> Among the enemies of the Cause in that village were two priests who
> acted as deputies of those influential mujtahids* of Isfahan, known to the
> Baha’ís as ‘the Wolf’ and ‘the Son of the Wolf’. Confident that any schemes
> against the followers of the new Faith would meet with the approval of
> these mujtahids, the two priests decided to carry out a plan by which they
> could openly denounce the Baha’ís in their village. They approached the
> brother of a man who had long been suspected as a Baha ’í, and persuaded
> him to pretend adherence to the new Faith. In this way he could get hold of
> a book about the Cause and deliver it for proof into the hands of the priests.
> This plan was carried out and the book of Íqán fell into the possession of
> the enemies of the Faith.
> 
> *
> Muslim doctors of law.
> The next morning one of the priests, armed with the book as proof,
> climbed up the minaret of the village mosque. “The religion of God has
> perished!” he screamed out to the people, “God’s true Faith is dead!” The
> inhabitants of the place hastened to the mosque to hear what he had to say.
> “O people,” cried the hysterical priest, “I tell you, the religion of our
> forefathers is dead and forgotten! Look,” he said, producing the Íqán, “this
> book belongs to the followers of the Bab and has been found in the house of
> the infidel brothers, Nayyir and Sína! I, myself,” he assured them, “have
> read the first and second pages of this book and I swear by God that, had I
> dared to go on to the third page, I would have been converted! Beware of
> what these accursed infidels can do and rid yourselves of them before they
> have uprooted God’s religion in this village!”
> The mischief was done. Friendship and family ties were forgotten as
> hatred for the Baha’ís swelled in the hearts of the people, blinding them to
> all decency and justice. Nothing could appease them now except the death
> of all those who had dared to join the new Faith.
> The two mujtahids of Isfahan signed the death-warrants of five Baha’ís
> in that village, three of them being Nayyir, Sína and Na‘ím. They were all to
> be taken to the prison in Isfahan and handed over to the governor who was
> to carry out the death sentence. The villagers, however, were not going to
> be deprived of having a share in punishing the Baha’ís themselves. The
> evening the death-warrants arrived, the five friends were stripped naked
> and beaten till daybreak. Na‘ím has told the story of how, after being
> beaten all through the night, their faces and naked bodies were painted
> over with gaudy colours and tall paper hats were placed on their heads to
> make them look as ridiculous as possible. Their shoulders were then tied
> together and they were paraded through the streets of the village
> accompanied by a gang who played flutes, drums and tambourines. Na‘ím
> also recalled that, notwithstanding the physical torture they endured, their
> sense of humour had not completely left them and once in a while they
> would burst into laughter as they viewed each other in their new apparel.
> Fortunately, the few friends left to them outside managed to get their
> release from the governor’s prison in Isfahan. Nayyir and Sína, were the
> last to come out of prison, and at first there was little hope for them. Their
> wives, in an attempt to move the heart of ‘the
> 
> Wolf’, went to him with their young children, begging him to have pity on
> the little ones and release their fathers, but that cruel mujtahid had them
> thrown out of his house. The deputy governor, however, who already knew
> Nayyir and Sína and was devoted to the two brothers, obtained their
> release by intervening on their behalf and persuading the governor of
> Isfahan, who was in the capital at the time, to overrule the death sentence
> issued by the mujtahids. This was a rare occurrence and one which could
> not be forgotten by the infuriated religious dignitaries. They vowed that
> they would not rest until they had wrought their vengeance on the victims
> who had temporarily escaped their punishment.
> 
> The vengeance of the mujtahids
> The cries and curses of the howling mob could be heard for miles
> around. They had surrounded the house and threatened to stone the two
> brothers to death.
> Nayyir and Sína, the gentle poets who had enjoyed such popularity
> before, had now become outcasts among their countrymen. They had
> dared to join the ranks of the Baha ’ís and no death was considered too
> terrible for them.
> The walls round the house were too high to climb and the heavy door
> withstood the attack of stones, but the savage mob would not be put off.
> “Fetch some paraffin,” some of them shouted, “and we will burn down the
> door!”
> In the house, the women and children trembled with fear. The first
> warning of what was to happen had come to them when the eldest son of
> Sína had been attacked on his way through the village a few days before.
> He and his father had left the village that same night, while Nayyir was to
> follow later with the rest of the family. It was now a consolation to them
> that one of the men sought after by the fanatical mob would not be there if
> they managed to break into the house, but it seemed as though Nayyir was
> doomed to die.
> One person alone had not given up hope. The wife of Nayyir was not
> wasting precious time in lamentation. While the attention of all the
> neighbours was drawn away by the noisy crowd in the street, she was
> hacking out a hole in the wall which connected their house
> 
> to one of their neighbours. “This should open on to their storeroom,” she
> thought. “Please God, do not let them hear the noise I make.”
> As soon as the hole was big enough for a man to pass through, the brave
> women persuaded her husband to take refuge in their neighbour’s house,
> while she quickly patched up the wall. Then, climbing up to the roof of the
> house, she called to the crowd below. “Listen to me,” she said, “I swear that
> the men you are looking for are not here in this house. Both have left and
> you are wasting your time trying to break down the door.” No one believed
> her, but she managed to distract their attention for a while hoping that the
> crowd might disperse when it grew dark. “Nayyir and Sína have left this
> house, I tell you,” she called out again. “Burn down the door!” cried the
> angry crowd.
> Paraffin was now brought, but the pile of stones that had been thrown
> at the door provided a protection and the oil was wasted before the wood
> could catch fire. The sun had set by this time and some of the men were
> impatient to get to their own homes. After confused discussions and
> heated arguments, it was decided that the house should be guarded that
> night and they should come back to clear away the stones and finish the job
> in the morning.
> As the disappointed crowd began to disperse for the night, Nayyir’s
> family wondered what fate awaited him in their neighbour’s house. Nayyir,
> too, wondered how he would be treated by the neighbours if they found
> him there. Should he remain hidden in the storeroom till everyone was
> asleep and then try to escape from the rooftops, or should he let the
> neighbours know he was in their house? If he did disclose his presence
> there, would they not be tempted to hand him over to his enemies?
> He listened to the bloodcurdling cries of the mob outside. It seemed
> impossible that these could be the same people who had respected him
> before and been moved by his poetry. Perhaps even now, he thought, they
> might have left him and his fellow-believers to live in peace in the village
> had it not been for the instigations of those sworn enemies of their Faith,
> the mujtahids in Isfahan.
> It seemed many hours before the noises in the street began to lessen
> and gradually die away. Now the neighbours could be heard coming into
> the house. “Foolish people!” someone was saying. “What makes them
> think these two brothers are Babís?” “They
> 
> can never be Babís,” said another voice, “we have been their neighbours for
> all these years and have never known them to be guilty of any of those
> crimes the Babís are blamed for. Both brothers are good Muslims.”
> Nayyir decided to come out of his hiding place and throw himself on the
> mercy of his neighbours. He quietly moved into one of the rooms and
> waited. An old lady came in and, seeing the outline of a figure in the
> gathering darkness, started back in fear. Then she recognized her
> neighbour. “It is you, Mr. Nayyir!” she exclaimed. “How did you come here
> without being seen?” Nayyir told her the story. “Do not be afraid,” the old
> lady said, “we will not betray you.” She went out and brought her son. “We
> will do all we can for you,” the son assured their guest.
> The front door was locked and bolted while they waited for darkness to
> descend. The host then sent for a trusted friend and together they armed
> themselves and quietly escorted Nayyir to a place outside the boundaries of
> their village. There they begged him to take what money they had with
> them and sadly left him to go on by himself, while they hurried back to the
> village before their absence was discovered.
> Nayyir walked on for many a weary mile, stumbling and falling in the
> dark, till he found his way to a village where he knew a few Baha’ís. There
> he stayed in secret for some time, and was joined by Na‘ím and another
> fellow-believer from his own village who had also escaped being killed by
> the mob.
> The crowd, in the meantime, having returned to burn the door of Nayyir
> and Sína’s house the next morning, found a copy of the Qur’an wrapped in a
> piece of cloth which Nayyir’s wife had hung on the door. “We must honour
> the holy Book and refrain from burning the door,” some of them said.
> “These infidels do not believe in the Qur’an,” others remarked. “They may
> not believe in it, but we do,” said one man. “We can put the Book aside,”
> said another, “and then set fire to the door.” In the end it was decided that
> they should not burn the door, but break it down instead. They cleared
> away the stones and set themselves to work.
> Nayyir and Sína’s family, seeing that the crowd was determined to
> break into the house, decided to open the door themselves. The two young
> wives, however, threw themselves over a low wall
> 
> leading into a neighbour’s yard and escaped through a narrow lane before
> the mob could reach them. This they did because they knew what fate
> awaited them if they were caught. Already they had heard how the
> relatives of the wife of Na‘ím had found a new husband for her, saying that
> her marriage with Na‘ím had been annulled when he became a Babí. It also
> happened that Sína’s wife was expecting a child at that time, and her own
> brother had sworn to rip open her belly rather than let her give birth to the
> child of a Babí.
> When the hysterical crowd of people rushed into the house, they caught
> hold of Nayyir’s eldest son, a child of eight or nine, and started to beat him
> so that he might tell them where his father and uncle were hiding, but
> seeing that the child could give them no information, they left him and
> began to loot the house. They carried away everything that they could
> find—expensive carpets and textiles, metal work and beautiful crystal—all
> were confiscated. Not a mat or a morsel of food did they leave for the six
> small children who were now left alone in the empty house.
> No one dared go near the children, and they would have starved had it
> not been for a kind neighbour who secretly took them a small pot of soup in
> the dead of night when no one was around. Two nights later when the poor
> mothers, facing every danger, went to see what had happened to their
> children, they found the youngest, only two years old, lying in a manger in
> the stable with a swollen stomach and unable to utter a word.
> It was impossible for the women to take their children with them, so
> they left the six children in that grief-stricken house and came to see them
> sometimes in the dark. Their life went on in this way for three months! At
> last the mother-in-law of Sína, fearful for what might befall her daughter if
> she were found, persuaded a man who had a few mules to take the whole
> family by a secret path over the mountains to the city of Qum. From there
> they were eventually able to reach Tihran and find Nayyir and Sína who
> had taken refuge in the capital.
> The two brothers, having lost all their worldly belongings, dedicated the
> rest of their lives to the service of their beloved Faith. They travelled on
> foot from town to town and village to village to spread the tidings of the
> New Day. Sometimes they were treated with tolerance, at other times they
> had to suffer innumerable
> 
> hardships, but their loyalty and devotion to the task they had set
> themselves never wavered. Putting their trust in God, they arose to
> proclaim and teach His Cause and, remembering the words addressed by
> the Bab to His first disciples, they showed the utmost detachment wherever
> they went. They accepted no reward from the people of any city and
> departed out of each place as pure and undefiled as they had entered,
> shaking the dust from off their feet.
> They died in poverty, but the seeds of faith which they sowed in the
> hearts of men wherever they travelled bore such a rich harvest that
> thousands of people today remember their names with gratitude, and pay
> homage to these two selfless men who renounced every comfort in the
> service of others.
> 
> A teaching trip
> It was snowing and bitterly cold, but Sína was impatient to be off. He
> had received a message from ‘Abdu’l-Baha asking him to visit the province
> of Mazindaran, and he wished to set out without any loss of time. But his
> friends and relatives were concerned about Sína who was now an ageing
> man. “Is it not possible for you to wait till the weather is a little better?”
> they said. “The life of a man cannot be relied upon,” Sína replied. “If I stay
> here, I may die tomorrow without having obeyed my Master’s orders
> whereas, if I should die on the way, I shall have died while carrying out His
> command.” So the mules were ordered, and Sína left for Mazindaran. With
> him went his young son Habíbu’llah.
> This was the first time that Habíbu’llah was going with his father on a
> teaching trip and he did not quite realize what he should be prepared for.
> That day they travelled from morning till a few hours after sunset before
> they came to a place where they could rest and have some food. But the
> people of the village did not prove hospitable, and the weary travellers had
> to spend the night in a stable where the ceiling leaked. They had great
> difficulty in keeping dry until day dawned and they were able to go on their
> way.
> This introduction to their journey came rather unexpectedly to the
> young man, but he was soon put through an ordeal which was far more
> trying. Having arrived at another village on their way,
> 
> they joined the men who had gathered for prayer in the mosque. When the
> prayer was over, the villagers recognized Sína as a descendant of the
> Prophet from his green turban, and came to pay their respects to him. Then
> they noticed that his son wore a hat and his head was not shaved. This,
> they thought, was quite unbecoming to the son of such a respectable person
> and, as they could not find a barber to attend to Habíbu’llah, they very
> kindly cut his hair off with a pair of scissors, as close to the skull as
> possible. Having done him this favour, they also provided the young man
> with a huge turban under which poor Habíbu’llah could hardly keep his
> head up.
> Another place in which they had to stay was a very dirty inn where they
> were attacked by hundreds of lice. When they eventually arrived at the
> home of some friends and were able to change their clothing and take a
> rest, Habíbu’llah, musing over the last few days, observed: “No wonder my
> elder brother is not very keen on these teaching trips!” Sína laughed out
> loud. “Yes,” he said, “it can be a little uncomfortable at times.”
> Habíbu’llah shared quite a number of other adventures with his father
> on his first teaching trip. Once, when they were going to visit the Baha’ís
> who lived in villages scattered in the heart of the forests of Mazindaran,
> they were caught in one of the heavy showers which are common in those
> parts and which are quickly followed by floods. Although they were soaked
> through, they decided not to enter the first village they came to as they
> knew no one there, but to go on to the next village where they had Baha ’í
> friends.
> Unfortunately, their guide lost his way in the forest as night set in, and
> the floods made it impossible for them to go any farther. They could not
> think of staying in the forest till morning because of wild animals; besides,
> their clothes were wet and the night was bitterly cold. To add to their
> distress, Sína, who was far from well after the rigours of the journey, had a
> sudden attack of paralysis which affected his tongue and he was unable to
> speak any more.
> Habíbu’llah and the guide decided that there was nothing for them to do
> but to try and go back to the village they had passed by earlier in the
> evening. In order to get to this village, however, they were obliged to go up
> a steep hill which had become so slippery from the rain that the horses they
> rode on could not climb it.
> 
> Habíbu’llah then remembered something he had read about one of the
> kings of Persia who had been faced with a similar difficulty. The king had
> ordered that the hoofs of the horses be wrapped up in felt cloth so that they
> would not slip back. So now Habíbu’llah threw their cloaks and other
> pieces of clothing under the feet of the horses in turn, until they reached the
> top of the hill.
> Covered with mud and shivering with cold, the three men managed to
> find their way to the village they had been reluctant to enter before. To
> their surprise, they were received very kindly and taken into a house
> where a man and several women immediately kindled a large fire and
> started to dry their clothes.
> The womenfolk showed great concern over Sína who lay unconscious
> all this while and one old woman, in particular, could not dry her tears as
> she sat beside the helpless patient. It seemed like a miracle when, halfway
> through the night, Sína began to recover from his illness and found that he
> could use his tongue again. The first words he uttered were in praise and
> gratitude to God that he had once more been permitted to suffer hardship
> in the path of service to His Cause. Then he turned to the old woman who
> had kept faithful watch by his bedside and who now seemed eager to talk
> to him, but he could not understand what she said as she spoke in a
> colloquial dialect. In the morning, the woman brought a translator who
> explained to Sína that she had dreamed of him and his son three nights
> before. She had seen him lying there unconscious in her dream, just as she
> had now seen him in reality. “Who are you?” she enquired of Sína, “and
> what are you doing in this forest?” He told her that he had come to see a
> friend in the next village. His friend and fellow-believer proved to be the
> old woman’s grandson and, after a little more conversation, Sína found out
> that the woman herself was a Baha ’í, as was every inhabitant of the village
> in which they were staying! All the men of the village, with the exception of
> one, were out farming on the hills some distance away while the women
> stayed behind to do the work at home.
> As soon as he was able to stand on his feet again, Sína and his son
> moved on to visit Baha’ís in other villages. On one occasion, as they were
> preparing to leave a village, Habíbu’llah twisted his ankle badly and they
> were obliged to stay there for another three
> 
> days till he could walk again. This little incident was quite significant, for
> when they arrived at their next destination, they found that the two
> brothers at whose house they were hoping to stay had been seized and
> taken to prison three days before because they were Baha’ís. Had Sína and
> his son been there at the time, they too would have been taken to prison.
> Travelling with his father was anything but uneventful, Habíbu’llah
> decided, and some of the events which took place seemed quite incredible.
> One day, having just arrived at a village on their way back from
> Mazindaran, they were going to the home of one of the Baha’ís when they
> met a notable of the place who was standing in front of his house. The
> gentleman invited them to go in and, on being told that they were expected
> elsewhere, started to follow them himself. Some of Sína’s friends who had
> come out to welcome him asked this man why he was following Sína . “I do
> not know myself,” he said. “All I do know is that I want to be with this
> Siyyid,* whoever he is.” “But this Siyyid is a Baha’í,” they told him as they
> approached their destination. “In that case,” the man answered, “I wish to
> be a Baha’í too.” He then stepped into the house with Sína to hear about his
> new Faith! Strange as the incident was, the man’s faith was genuine and he
> remained a staunch believer for the rest of his life.
> This person was one of many people who were attracted by Sína ’s
> radiant personality during his travels around Persia. There was the
> headman of a village in the province of Khurasan, for instance, who met
> Sína years before this trip to Mazindaran. On that occasion, Sína was
> teaching the Faith in one of the towns of Khurasan when a great commotion
> was raised by some fanatical Muslims and there was danger of his being
> killed. The governor of the place, who knew a little about the Faith,
> hurriedly sent Sína with some soldiers to a village outside the boundaries
> of the town. These soldiers treated Sína like a criminal and told the
> headman of the village to beware of him because he was a Babí. As soon as
> the soldiers left, however, the man threw himself at the feet of Sína and
> said: “I can see you are no criminal. Tell me, I beg you, what a Babí is.”
> Sína, who was too weak to talk to him after the hardships he had endured
> 
> *
> Descendant of the Prophet Muhammad.
> that day, took a book out of his pocket and handed it to his host. The man
> stayed up that night to finish reading the book and became a convinced
> Baha’í before Sína left his village.
> Sína would often recall the teaching trips they used to make when he
> was a young man. Things were far more difficult for a Baha ’í teacher in
> those days, he would tell his son. There was fear of persecution in every
> town and village, and going from place to place in itself was far from easy.
> One day, as Sína and Habíbu’llah were travelling on mules in Mazindaran,
> Sína pointed out a place to his son and said: “In my younger days, when we
> travelled on foot all the time, a companion with whom I was journeying this
> way sat down here from sheer exhaustion and could go no farther.”
> Habíbu’llah realized that, difficult though teaching trips still were, they
> were nothing like they used to be.
> 
> Firesides
> More than forty men—Baha’ís and others who had come to investigate
> the Faith—were gathered in the home of Nayyir and Sína when a crowd of
> two hundred ruffians, bent on murder and destruction, were heard
> approaching the house.
> The two brothers lived in one of the poorest quarters of Tihran where
> the rough population of the city could be found, and where the Baha’ís were
> in constant danger of being attacked by their enemies. But no fear of
> danger to themselves ever stopped Nayyir and Sína from teaching the
> Cause. When they were too old and ill to travel from place to place to
> spread the new Message, they held regular meetings in their humble home
> twice a week. These ‘firesides’, as they are termed today, were never to be
> forgotten by those who attended them. More than forty or fifty people
> would gather each time to hear Nayyir and Sína expound the teachings of
> Baha’u’llah, and a great number of people owed their faith to the untiring
> efforts of these two men. Even those who did not embrace the Cause went
> away from these meetings as friends of the Baha ’ís and admirers of the
> hosts.
> But the inhabitants of the district in which the two brothers lived were
> not going to tolerate their meetings forever and, when
> 
> encouraged by the clergy, they decided to do away with their Baha’í
> neighbours once and for all. One night when they knew there was a
> meeting, two hundred of them joined together and, yelling and cursing at
> the top of their voices, came to kill anyone they might find at the gathering.
> When the noise of the crowd was heard in the street, the two brothers
> begged their guests to try and save their lives, for there was no doubt about
> the intention of the mob outside. Among the guests at the meeting that
> night, there were twelve soldiers who belonged to the artillery. They had
> been coming to investigate the Faith for the past few weeks and already
> knew something about the Baha’ís and their beliefs. When they saw the
> danger that threatened the people in the house, these soldiers opened the
> door and came out into the street. The sight of a group of strong-looking
> soldiers coming out of the house they were about to attack worked like
> magic on the rough crowd. All they had expected to find at the meeting
> were some helpless unarmed men who would be easy victims. They had
> not dreamed of confronting soldiers prepared to defend themselves. The
> effect of what they now saw was so great that they slowly retreated.
> The twelve soldiers, quite pleased with the impression they had made,
> accepted an invitation to stay in the district every night for some time.
> They slept, two by two, in the houses of Baha ’ís who lived near Nayyir and
> Sína, and the ‘firesides’ went on as usual.
> The ruffians attempted another attack hoping, no doubt, that there
> would be no more soldiers around. This time, however, our soldier friends
> decided to give the crowd a demonstration of a proper military attack!
> Drawing out their swords, they rushed forward together just as the mob
> entered the street. The result was a great commotion among their
> cowardly enemies who took to their heels and fled the place—all but one
> who, being slower than the others, was captured by the valiant soldiers!
> The wretched man, seeing Sína standing at the door of his house, caught
> hold of his sash and begged for mercy. Sína assured him that there was no
> intention of doing him any harm, but the man would not let go of the sash
> till Sína had vowed that he would be under his personal protection. Such
> were the conditions under which the early believers held their ‘firesides’.
> 
> Raised from the dead
> Mulla ‘Abdu’l-Qaní* was being tortured in the streets of Ardikan. He was
> one of the most famous Baha’ís of the village, and the fanatical people had
> long been thirsty for his blood. Now they attacked him with crude
> weapons: knives, sticks, chains and stones. Even the women and children
> were eager to take part in killing a Baha’í, for this was considered to be the
> surest way of gaining admission into paradise.
> They beat him and tore his flesh until he could no longer stand on his
> feet. Then they tied a rope to his feet and dragged him to the house of the
> mujtahid. “This is not the way I asked you to bring him here,” said the
> religious dignitary, “but now that you have already killed him, throw his
> body into the moat.”
> But the people were not yet through with ‘Abdu’l-Qaní. They dragged
> him into the streets once more and, while some went to get firewood and
> paraffin to burn his body, others kicked him and threw stones and spat on
> him. Someone even brought a saw and started cutting off his leg.
> All of a sudden, a new man rushed upon the scene waving an envelope
> in his hand and swearing at the top of his voice. “Shameless people,” he
> cried, “you are killing a man whose death-warrant has not yet been signed
> by our religious leaders. I have here in my hand a telegram instructing me
> to see into this matter.” Saying this, he took out a chain from his pocket and
> drove the crowd away from their victim. He then called for someone to
> take up the body of ‘Abdu’l-Qaní and carry it to his home, but none of those
> who heard him came forward.
> The ruthless crowd was ready to pounce on its prey once more when a
> man who happened to pass that way recognized ‘Abdu’l-Qaní and
> immediately offered to carry him on his shoulders. This man was a thief
> who had once broken into the house of ‘Abdu’l-Qaní’s sister and, having
> been caught, was going to be tortured by the orders of the governor when
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní intervened and saved him from this punishment.
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní’s body was a mass of raw flesh and blood when it
> 
> *
> Mulla is a title given to Muslim priests.
> was laid down in front of his family. One of his legs had been sawed half
> through and one eye hung out on his face. Yet he was still breathing, and his
> wife rushed out to find a doctor. None of the doctors she went to, however,
> had the courage to go to see ‘Abdu’l-Qaní or even dared to write a
> prescription for him. Besides, they were sure that he was a dying man and
> that nothing they did could possibly save his life. So ‘Abdu’l-Qaní’s wife and
> elder son took upon themselves to tend to his wounds and use whatever
> treatment they considered best. Their untiring efforts were rewarded and
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní lived, though it was a long time before they could even change
> the bloodstained and shredded clothes which he had on.
> When the people of Ardikan came to know that ‘Abdu’l-Qaní was still
> alive, they looked upon it as a true miracle. They said that God had raised
> him up to life again after they had seen him die, and these same people who
> had almost killed him now came to beg for a piece of his bloodstained
> clothes so that they could keep it as a sacred relic.
> 
> The wolf and the lamb
> Mulla ‘Abdu’l-Qaní of Ardikan, who was a well-known and much
> respected priest before he became a Baha ’í, was still clothed in the
> garments of the Muslim clergy when Ardishír, a young Zoroastrian, was
> taken to his house to hear about the new Faith.
> The Zoroastrians of Persia, having suffered all forms of insults and
> indignations at the hands of the Muslims, especially dreaded meeting with
> any of the clergymen of Islam as this group never failed to poison the life of
> a Zoroastrian whenever they set eyes on one of them. Ardishír, therefore,
> had grave misgivings when he found his host to be dressed in the robes of
> the dreaded enemy. But he was soon to find out that this man was entirely
> different from any Muslim priest he had yet seen or heard of.
> As soon as the young guest arrived at the threshold of his room, ‘Abdu’l-
> Qaní rose to his feet in respect and courteously offered him a seat beside
> himself. He then proceeded to pour out a glass of tea for him with his own
> hands. The young man was greatly astonished. He could not imagine that
> it could be possible for a
> 
> Muslim priest to undergo such transformation even if he had become a
> Baha’í. Not only did the Muslims treat Zoroastrians with great contempt,
> but it was impossible for them to permit a Zoroastrian to drink out of a
> glass used in their own home. All Zoroastrians were considered as unclean
> and no Muslim would dream of using a receptacle defiled by them.
> The greatest surprise came for Ardishír when, after he had finished
> drinking the tea, his host deliberately filled the same glass again, without
> pouring out what was left inside, and began to drink from it. Then, turning
> to the young Zoroastrian, he remarked: “You must have heard how, in the
> days of the advent of the Promised Lord, the lamb and the wolf will drink
> from the same stream and graze in the same meadow. Do you still doubt
> that we are living in that Day?”
> *****
> The following story has been recounted by another Zoroastrian who
> met ‘Abdu’l-Qaní:
> When I was a young man I was a very staunch Zoroastrian. I faithfully
> believed in all the ideas that had been handed down to us by our
> forefathers and never questioned the truth of our beliefs. I felt quite
> certain that all other religions were false, but I particularly disliked Islam
> because of the way we were treated by its followers. They continually
> insulted us and confronted us with every form of malice. If a poor
> Zoroastrian who had brought fruit to sell in the market was seen to ride his
> donkey on the street, even a small Muslim child was permitted to hit him
> with stones and sticks, because it was considered an insult to Islam if a
> Zoroastrian or a Jew rode, instead of humbly walking past a Muslim. And if
> one of us was sitting on a doorstep, he was obliged to stand up in respect
> when a Muslim clergyman went by. Once, when an invalid Zoroastrian was
> riding on his donkey to go to a doctor, he happened to meet the priest of
> that district. Though unable to dismount, he saluted the clergyman with
> great reverence but instead of answering his greeting, the priest pulled him
> down from his mount and, using the reins of the donkey, gave the sick man
> a severe beating.
> We could be identified by the clothes we were obliged to wear, and
> were looked upon as unclean heathens who should not be
> 
> permitted to associate with the Muslim population. We were even
> forbidden to build houses that were better or higher than those of our
> Muslim neighbours.
> Notwithstanding the treatment that was meted out to us, life was much
> easier for Zoroastrians and Jews than it was for those who were known as
> Babís. I was quite sure that these people did not believe in the Prophet
> Muhammad by the way they were persecuted by the Muslims, and I
> therefore had great sympathy for them. One day I saw a cobbler who
> belonged to this new Faith being killed on the street. He was attacked with
> stones, bricks, chopping knives and any other weapon people could get
> hold of as they rushed to the scene. The man’s flesh was cut to pieces
> before my eyes, and his corpse was set on fire.
> I later came to know a few of the Baha ’ís and, to my utter astonishment
> and great disappointment, found that they believed Muhammad was a
> Messenger of God! “How can you believe in a prophet whose followers
> treat you like this?” I asked one of them in amazement. “You cannot always
> judge a Prophet by what His followers do,” the Baha’í told me. “But how
> can you say a man is a true prophet,” I objected, “if those who profess his
> religion can behave in this way?” “What the Muslims are doing today,” I
> was told, “only proves that they have completely forgotten the teachings of
> the Founder of their Faith, for if the truth of a Messenger of God depends on
> the behaviour of those who name themselves after Him, then we should
> disbelieve in all the past Prophets alike.” I realized that there was truth in
> what he said, but nothing could reconcile me to Islam and its Founder.
> Some time before this, I had read a book which I greatly admired as it
> was written against Muhammad and his religion. I had not dared to tell
> anyone about this book before, but I now felt that I could discuss it with my
> Baha’í friends. They were very patient with me, but always managed to
> refute the arguments given in the book and prove them to be entirely false.
> Though I would not be drawn to Islam, I found that I was attracted to the
> Baha’ís themselves. “Never mind about Muhammad and his teachings,” I
> said at last, “tell me something about the teachings of Baha ’u’llah.” I was
> given The Hidden Words to read. This little book captured my heart
> immediately and I began to read other Writings of
> 
> Baha’u’llah. In time, I came to believe that the Author of these Writings
> must have truly been inspired by God. But while reading the Writings of
> Baha’u’llah, I one day came across a tribute He had paid to Muhammad as a
> divine Messenger and this was something I could not tolerate. “I have no
> difficulty in accepting Baha’u’llah as a Messenger of God,” I told the Baha’ís
> one day, “but I can never be convinced that Muhammad was a Prophet too.”
> My prejudice against the Muslims was so intense that in the end I
> decided to go so far as to forsake Baha ’u’llah and His Cause, rather than
> accept the Prophet of Islam. It was then that I came to meet Mulla ‘Abdu’l-
> Qaní. “Why do you find it so difficult to recognize Muhammad as a true
> Prophet?” He asked me, and there followed a long discussion. He told me
> that the teachings brought by the Messenger of God could be likened to the
> life-giving waters of a pure lake. But, as days go by, the clear water in the
> lake is polluted by those who make use of it. Some dip their buckets into it,
> others their hands, and yet others their soiled garments. In time, the water
> changes its colour and smell and loses its life-giving power. Indeed, to
> drink that water then becomes the cause of disease. “This is why,” ‘Abdu’l-
> Qaní continued, “God sends a Messenger to purify His religion from time to
> time and make it a source of spiritual life to the world once more, after
> people have misused and corrupted it to suit their own desires.” “But how
> can I be sure,” I asked him, “that the teachings of Muhammad were good
> and profitable when he brought them?” “There is only one way of finding
> out,” said ‘Abdu’l-Qaní. “You must forget your prejudice, lay aside all the
> ideas you find prevalent among the Muslims today, and read the teachings
> of Muhammad as given in the Qur’an.” “I cannot read Arabic,” I told him,
> “and the Qur’an has not been translated into Persian.” “If you are sincere in
> your search after Truth, and wish to know what is written in the Qur’an,”
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní told me, “I am prepared to read it with you.”
> I began to study the Qur’an with Mulla ‘Abdu’l-Qaní every day. It took
> me two years to go through it, but by that time my heart was completely
> won over by the Prophet of Islam. I then had no further difficulty in
> becoming a Baha’í, much to the disappointment of my Muslim neighbours.
> 
> Persecutions in Yazd
> In the fierce heat of the noonday sun, thousands of people had gathered
> in the public square of Yazd, while others were engaged in killing the
> Baha’ís and pillaging their homes in every district of the town. The Baha’ís
> had been taken unawares and had nowhere to flee to. Their wives and
> children were trying to hide in cellars, wells, ditches and waterways, half
> dead with fear as they listened to the horrible curses and unearthly cries
> around them.
> Suddenly the killing stopped and everyone hurried to the governor’s
> fort. Word had been brought to the religious dignitary of the town that the
> governor had given refuge to Mulla ‘Abdu’l-Qaní in his own fort and, furious
> at the news, the clergyman had called upon all devout Muslims to surround
> the place and be prepared to attack it if the governor did not hand ‘Abdu’l-
> Qaní over to them.
> Thousands of men rushed to the scene and surrounded the fort from
> every side, while the women crowded on to the rooftops around, mingling
> their screams and cries with the shouting and cursing of the men below.
> The governor, fearful of the influence of the clergy and the power of the
> masses, hastened to assure them that ‘Abdu’l-Qaní had not entered the fort.
> Although he pleaded for hours, the mob would not believe him and he was
> obliged to beg for the help of the clergy themselves.
> This incident, which held the attention of the inhabitants of Yazd from
> noon to sunset, brought relief to many Baha ’ís who would have otherwise
> been butchered to death that day.
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní and some of the members of his family were, in fact, in the
> home of some English friends when news was brought to them of what was
> happening outside. The hosts immediately asked ‘Abdu’l-Qaní to leave the
> house as they were afraid of what might happen to themselves if people
> came to know that the human quarry they were after was to be found in
> their home. ‘Abdu’l-Qaní, a frail man of seventy at that time, assured his
> hosts that he would not let any harm come to them. He asked to be
> permitted to stay there until there was reason to believe that people
> suspected where he was. Then, he promised, he would willingly leave the
> house to be killed on the street so that no harm might come to his
> 
> hosts. The hosts were reluctant to listen to his pleading. “Why should you
> choose a religion,” said the lady of the house, “for which you have to suffer
> insults and persecutions wherever you go?” “Have you forgotten the days
> of Peter and Paul?” replied ‘Abdu’l-Qaní, “Was this not how the early
> disciples of Christ were treated by the people of their day?”
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní sat behind the front door, ready to leave the house as soon
> as he heard a crowd approaching. At sunset the loud cries of a gang of men
> were heard coming that way. ‘Abdu’l-Qaní said farewell to his children,
> thanked his hosts for letting them stay there, and prepared to go out. The
> noise in the street, however, grew less as the crowd passed by the alley
> without entering it.
> Once more ‘Abdu’l-Qaní sat down to wait. The sorrow of his own family
> and the anxiety of his hosts now knew no bounds. Soon the roaring of a
> great multitude of people was heard approaching. This time the numbers
> were so many, and the noise and commotion they made was so great, that
> the very earth trembled as they entered the alley and came near the house.
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní hurriedly opened the door and stepped outside. To his great
> surprise, the crowd went to another door close by and broke it down with a
> few kicks. This house belonged to another Baha’í and the mob, not finding
> him at home, looted the place and left.
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní’s English friends refused to have anything more to do with
> him. The old man, accompanied by his son-in-law who insisted on going
> with him, left in the hope of escaping from the town before the night was
> over. Fortunately, no one recognized them in the dark and they were able
> to make their way out of Yazd.
> Being old and feeble, ‘Abdu’l-Qaní could not walk very fast and the
> summer nights were short. Would they be able to find their way to a
> shelter before daybreak? As the first glimmerings of dawn appeared on the
> horizon, they recognized the outlines of one of the hamlets near by. The
> younger man hurried on in front to see if he could persuade a Zoroastrian
> he knew in that place to take them into his house. This man, though willing
> to help, was afraid to let them enter his own home. He took them to a
> walled garden a little away from his place, where there was no shelter from
> the hot sun, but where he hoped they might remain unobserved that day.
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní and his son-in-law were left in that garden, without
> 
> food or water, to live through fourteen hours of scorching sunshine. At
> night, almost dead from lack of water and food, they received a little
> nourishment from two men who were sent by the owner of the garden with
> a message asking them to leave the hamlet while it was still dark. This they
> found impossible to do. Not only was ‘Abdu’l-Qaní too weak to undertake
> another journey on foot, but they could think of nowhere to go. In the end
> they persuaded their friend to let them stay on.
> ‘Abdu’l-Qaní survived the torment of the blazing sun during those long
> summer days and the agony of sleeping on the rough ploughed land at
> night. He lived in that garden for thirty-nine days! Neither hunger and
> thirst, nor the persecutions and tortures he suffered at the hands of his
> enemies could dampen his enthusiasm for the Faith he loved so well. He
> lived through all those ordeals and died a natural death years later, serving
> the Cause to the end of his life.
> 
> A noble son
> Mulla ‘Abdu’l-Qaní had a son of fifteen, named ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq, who was
> with him in the house of his English friends on that fateful day in Yazd.
> ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq was loved by all who knew him. Even their hosts who were
> so worried for their own safety would not let ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq leave their
> house with his father that night. The next morning an English doctor who
> was concerned about the boy’s safety took him to his own home where he
> hoped to keep him until the trouble in Yazd was over.
> Later in the day, however, the doctor received a message from the
> governor that made him change his mind. The message was brought by the
> English minister in Yazd and it warned the foreigners in that town not to
> permit any Baha’ís to enter their houses, as he, the governor, could not be
> responsible for the evil consequences if the Muslims found them hiding
> Baha’ís in their homes. “Even if you suspect your own servant to belong to
> this Faith,” the governor had said, “you must throw him out onto the
> streets.”
> The doctor was very worried, and the clergyman who had brought the
> message asked ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq if he would be prepared to denounce the
> Founders of his Faith in order to safeguard his own
> 
> life. “Never!” was ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq’s immediate reply, “I would much rather be
> killed.” “In that case,” said his host reluctantly, “I am afraid I cannot keep
> you here any longer, as my own safety is now endangered.” ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq
> was given some money to have with him in case of need, and sent away
> from the house that night. Not knowing of any place he could go, the boy
> started to walk away from the town. He trembled with fear as he thought of
> the coming daylight when he might be recognized by someone on the road.
> But even if he were not, he thought, where could he go? Who would be
> prepared to give him refuge in his home in the villages around Yazd, or even
> give him food and water, when every stranger was suspected of being a
> Baha’í who was running away from the town?
> Suddenly his foot caught onto a wire and he fell down. He was
> immediately discovered by some workmen who were sleeping close by.
> “Who are you, and what are you doing here this time of night?” they asked
> him. ‘Abdu’l Khaliq said he was on his way to do an errand for the English
> doctor. “You lie!” they told him. “You are one of those Babís who are trying
> to escape.” ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq would not deny it and prepared himself to die.
> The workmen, however, did not kill him. They let him stay there for the
> night and go on his way in the morning. But they took from him the ring
> which his father had taken off his own finger and slipped into ‘Abdu’l-
> Khaliq’s hand when he was saying goodbye to his son. In the morning the
> generous boy gave the workmen some of his money too, before he set off
> into the wilderness.
> When he had gone some distance from the place, one of the workmen
> caught up with him and said: “I can arrange for you to hide in the house of
> my master. How much can you give me to take to him?” ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq
> gave him most of the sum he had in his pocket. “This is all I can afford,” he
> said. The man told him to sit down and wait for his return.
> ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq sat down on some rocks and waited for a long time. The
> sun was getting hotter every minute and the boy wondered how much
> longer he could bear it. After some agonizing hours, he realized that the
> workman had no intention of coming back, so he got up to continue his
> weary journey.
> He soon met with a Zoroastrian who, seeing the state of the poor
> 
> boy in that heat, enquired where he was going. ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq, hoping that
> the man might help him, said: “I am trying to escape from the town, but
> have nowhere to go. Do you know of anywhere?” But the Zoroastrian
> offered no help and left him to go on his way.
> By now ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq felt he would die of thirst if he could not find
> some water to drink. An old, kindly man who met him at this time saved
> his life by giving him a few gherkins. Then, after questioning the boy and
> getting to know of his distress, he took him to his home in the nearby
> village.
> The old man had to go into town that same day and, scarcely had he
> entered the place, when he heard the town-crier’s warning to the people of
> Yazd and its surroundings. “The revered dignitaries of Yazd have decreed,”
> the man cried out, “that anyone who dares to give refuge to a Babí, either in
> this town or the villages around it, will have his property confiscated and
> his house razed to the ground!”
> The poor man hurried back to his village trembling with fear and
> begged ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq to leave his home. “Let me stay for this one night,”
> begged the boy, “and I will go in the morning.” The old man woke him up at
> dawn and told him to hide in some ruins close by. ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq gave him
> the rest of the money he had and took refuge among the ruins.
> Once again the boy found himself in the scorching heat without water or
> food. As the hours went by and his thirst increased, he felt sure he could
> not bear this any longer. Any death, he thought, would be better than being
> roasted under the merciless desert sun. Even if he were to be killed by a
> savage mob, it would at least be quicker than dying in this way. He decided
> to go back to Yazd, and be prepared to meet his fate.
> in Yazd, ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq’s grief-stricken mother did not have a minute’s
> peace. She had seen her aged husband and her son-in-law walk out into
> streets which teemed with men bent on spilling their blood. No news of
> them had reached her, and she wondered whether they were still alive or
> had been cut to pieces by their ruthless enemies. She had hoped that her
> young son, ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq, would be safe in the English doctor’s house, but
> now she knew that he too had been turned out into the streets. “How could
> you have the heart,” she told the doctor, “to send away an innocent boy
> who had
> 
> put his trust in you and taken refuge under your roof? Why could you not
> have let him be killed here so that I might, at least, have buried his body and
> wept over his grave? Now I must die a hundred deaths every day, not
> knowing what tortures he has suffered and where his poor body lies.”
> The doctor was greatly moved by her terrible grief and wished he could
> give her some news of her son, but no one knew where ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq had
> gone and what had become of him. Then, after two days of anxiety, the
> doctor saw ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq stumble into his hospital more dead than alive.
> He was so glad to see the boy that he overcame the fear that people might
> have seen him entering the hospital. He made sure that the boy was given
> the attention he needed, then hurried to give the good news to ‘Abdu’l-
> Khaliq’s mother.
> When ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq recovered from the effects of the hardships he had
> endured, his friend the doctor thought of taking him to one of the religious
> dignitaries of Yazd and getting a statement from the clergyman to say that
> ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq was not a Baha’í and should not be molested, but the
> courageous boy would not think of it. He had had a taste of what a Baha ’í’s
> life could be like, yet he chose to remain loyal to his Faith.
> 
> Prophecies fulfilled
> From his studies of the Zoroastrian Scriptures, Mulla Bahram * had come
> to believe that the time for the appearance of that great Messenger foretold
> in the Holy Books was at hand. He questioned everyone who arrived at his
> village about the news of the outside world, hoping that something might
> reach his ears which would help him to recognize the signs of the advent of
> the Promised One. But a long time passed and he heard nothing of
> importance.
> One day a neighbour of his who had just come back from the town told
> him that a Babí was killed in Yazd that day. “What is a Babí?” asked Mulla
> Bahram. His neighbour was not sure, but recounted what he himself had
> heard about them. “They are
> 
> *
> He was not a Muslim priest, though he was known as Mulla Bahram.
> people,” he said, “who become yellow in the face through acquiring too
> much knowledge.” This made little sense to Mulla Bahram, and soon other
> matters occupied his mind and he did not give much thought to what he
> had heard.
> Some time later when Mulla Bahram was working in Tihran, he was one
> day discussing religion with a friend whom he hoped to interest in the
> Zoroastrian Faith. Among the proofs which he mentioned concerning the
> Revelation of Zoroaster were the miracles He performed and the
> persecutions He and His disciples endured for the sake of His Cause.
> “Suffering persecutions is no proof,” said his friend. “Only a few years ago
> eighty Babís were killed for their Faith in a single day here in one of the
> squares of Tihran, while everybody knows that there is no truth in what
> they believe.”
> This was the second time Mulla Bahram heard of the Baha ’ís and how
> they were being persecuted. The third time was in Kashan, where he was
> working with a man whom he had come to love and admire. This friend
> one day received a letter which he opened in the presence of Mulla Bahram.
> The contents of that letter brought such grief to his heart that he could not
> conceal his feelings, and Mulla Bahram begged to know of the reason for
> this great sorrow. His friend was reluctant to talk about it at first but,
> realizing that he could trust Mulla Bahram with a secret, decided to tell
> him. Two of the notables of Isfahan, he said, who were known for their
> gentleness and the saintly life they led were, nevertheless, cruelly martyred
> because they were Baha ’ís. Mulla Bahram was greatly touched by what he
> heard. He also realized now that his own friend, whom he had believed to
> be a Zoroastrian, was a member of this new Faith.
> Mulla Bahram could no longer ignore the Cause which had been brought
> to his attention from time to time through the martyrdom of its followers.
> His investigation, which started that very day, aroused his deep interest in
> the new Faith, but he had to leave for his native village near Yazd before he
> was fully convinced of the truth of the Cause.
> In Yazd, Mulla Bahram knew a family who bought beetroots from him
> whenever he took a donkey-load to sell in the town. On one of these
> occasions he was invited to go in and meet a friend of the
> 
> household. This friend was Malmírí, a famous Baha’í teacher whose death-
> warrant had been signed by one of the religious dignitaries of Yazd, and
> who was now living in concealment in the basement of the house of one of
> his fellow-believers.
> Malmírí’s enemies were searching for him in the town and its
> surroundings, but even at a time like this he would not give up teaching the
> Faith if an opportunity presented itself. His host had told him about the
> young Zoroastrian who brought beetroots to the door and who seemed to
> be an intelligent and sincere person, and it was arranged that he should be
> invited in to meet Malmírí one day.
> Mulla Bahram came day after day to hear about the Cause. He would
> listen with tears streaming down his face as Malmírí explained to him how
> the prophecies of the Holy Books had all been fulfilled and the Promise of
> the ages had been revealed. “This is no time for tears,” Malmírí told him. “I
> am giving you the glad tidings of a Revelation which will bring untold
> blessings to mankind and establish the Kingdom of God on earth.” But
> Mulla Bahram was stirred by emotions beyond his control as he recognized
> the greatness of the Day in which he lived.
> These were the circumstances under which Mulla Bahram, one of the
> first Zoroastrians to embrace the Cause in Yazd, came to be confirmed in
> his new Faith.
> 
> The journey to Yazd
> Mulla Bahram was on his way to Yazd. He was travelling alone; the way
> was long and dreary, and for miles there was nothing to be seen but barren
> desert land. Yet Mulla Bahram was glad to have a donkey to ride on, for the
> journey by foot would have been infinitely more difficult. As it was, he
> would be on the road for many days. Mulla Bahram wondered how the
> news of his return would be received by the people in his village. Less than
> a year before he had been forced to leave the place to save his life, for two
> of the religious dignitaries of Yazd who had long opposed the Baha ’í Faith
> and persecuted the believers had suddenly died, and rumour was spread
> that Mulla Bahram had brought about their deaths by means of witchcraft.
> 
> As one of the first Zoroastrians to embrace the Faith in Yazd, Mulla
> Bahram had already made a number of enemies among Zoroastrians and
> Muslims alike because of the fearless manner in which he expounded the
> Cause and for being responsible for attracting many to the new Faith. It
> was therefore decided that he and some other well-known Baha’ís whose
> lives were endangered by the sudden death of the religious dignitaries
> should not remain in Yazd to confront the wrath of the fanatical mob.
> Mulla Bahram had travelled to India where he had succeeded in
> teaching the Cause to some of the Zoroastrians before he received a
> message from Baha’u’llah to go back to Persia. So here he was on his way
> to Yazd, with all his capital and worldly belongings packed in the saddle on
> his donkey’s back.
> As Mulla Bahram contemplated the events of the past, and wondered
> about those of the future, he little realized the kind of adventure in which
> he was about to participate. This adventure he shared with two thieves
> who set upon him and, having asked him to dismount from his donkey, took
> possession of all he had. They even took the clothes he wore, leaving him
> scarcely enough with which to cover himself.
> Though unprepared for this new experience, Mulla Bahram resigned
> himself to the Will of God and resumed his journey on foot. He had gone
> quite a distance when the sound of angry voices reached him from behind.
> Looking back, he saw the two thieves engaged in a fierce quarrel. He
> immediately retraced his steps to enquire about the cause of the trouble
> and found that the two could not agree on how to share his belongings
> between them. “Gentlemen”, said Mulla Bahram, “I beg you to stop
> quarrelling as I happen to know the exact price of each of these articles and,
> with your permission, will divide them between you in such a way that you
> will each get a fair share.”
> The idea appealed to the thieves and Mulla Bahram divided his
> belongings between the two, to the satisfaction of both. The last two
> objects which remained to be divided were the donkey and the empty
> saddle. “Gentlemen,” said Mulla Bahram, “I find it absolutely impossible to
> be just in sharing these two things. Whichever of you gets the saddle will
> evidently be the loser, so I suggest that in order to solve the problem, you
> let me have these
> 
> in return for my services.”
> The thieves thought the suggestion very wise, and generously permitted
> Mulla Bahram to put the saddle on the donkey and ride the rest of the
> journey to Yazd.
> 
> Bahrám’s companion
> One night Mulla Bahram dreamed that two dignified gentlemen had
> come to see him. From their green turbans he could tell they were
> descendants of the Prophet Muhammad and, as they crossed his threshold,
> they spoke to him and said: “We are Nayyir and Sína .” Mulla Bahram was
> out working on his farm the next morning when Nayyir and Sína arrived at
> the village. They had escaped the perils of Isfahan and, having failed to find
> a safe place to stay in Yazd, had come to take refuge with Mulla Bahram for
> a while until they could move on again.
> In answer to their knock, Mulla Bahram’s wife opened the door. She
> was a very fanatical Zoroastrian who could not tolerate people of other
> Faiths whom her husband was in the habit of befriending since he had
> become a Baha’í himself. In fact, she had little sympathy or tolerance
> towards her own husband now that he had chosen to change his former
> religious beliefs, and she missed no opportunity to show her resentment by
> making life as difficult as she possibly could for him. She now had one
> quick look at the two visitors and slammed the door in their faces. She
> would have nothing to do with people who wore turbans—green turbans,
> at that! “This is not Bahram’s house,” she shouted at them, guessing who
> they had come to see.
> Nayyir and Sína turned away with a heavy heart, wondering where they
> could go. As they were walking through the village on their way back,
> Mulla Bahram, who was coming home, happened to pass by and recognized
> them as the two men he had seen in his dream. Going up to them, he asked:
> “Are you Nayyir and Sína?” “We are,” said the astonished brothers. “Are
> you Mulla Bahram?” Mulla Bahram embraced them tenderly, welcomed
> them to his village and took them home. The two brothers, however,
> knowing that they would not be welcomed by the lady of the house,
> wondered
> 
> whether they should accept the hospitality. Mulla Bahram, in the
> meantime, did not take long in finding out how his wife had treated his
> distinguished guests. He had, by now, come to the end of his patience with
> her rude behaviour and, losing his temper completely, took her by the hand
> and showed her to the door, telling her to go back to her father’s house.
> Later on Mulla Bahram’s friends tried hard to bring a reconciliation
> between the husband and wife, but Mulla Bahram would not be induced to
> put up with her any more. After some time, however, a letter received from
> ‘Abdu’l-Baha, which began: “O Bahram,* astronomers say that Mars is a
> quarrelsome and hot-tempered star …”, softened the heart of Mulla Bahram
> and he permitted his wife to return to his house. She, however, was not
> prepared to change her ways, and her attitude remained hostile towards all
> Baha’ís up to the very last day of her life.
> In one of His beautiful prayers, ‘Abdul-Baha makes mention of her,
> asking God’s blessings and forgiveness for “this dear handmaiden of Thine,
> Bahram’s companion ….”
> 
> The story of ‘Abbás-Ábád
> The persecution of Baha’ís in Yazd had reached its climax. Eighty-four
> people were dragged into the streets and tortured to death. Dozens of
> houses were looted and the womenfolk were left to mourn their husbands,
> sons and brothers among the ruins which had been their homes. The
> children, unable to grasp the full significance of the horrible events which
> took place around them, clung desperately to their helpless mothers,
> knowing that they would never see their fathers again.
> The savage murderers, drunk with the blood they had spilt on the
> streets of Yazd, were now hunting for other victims. The roads round the
> town were well guarded so that no one who was known as a Baha’í could
> hope to escape from Yazd. But in the town itself, there were some brave
> souls who were prepared to sacrifice their
> 
> *
> Bahram means Mars. In several of His letters to individuals, ‘Abdul-Baha makes
> this type of intimate remark.
> own safety in order to hide those of their fellow-believers whose lives were
> especially in danger.
> The news of the massacre in the town quickly spread to the villages
> around, and the Baha’ís living there knew that they would not be spared.
> Soon hundreds of wild fanatics, banded together, were moving towards
> those villages where there were Baha ’ís. Others joined them as they went
> from village to village, bringing untold suffering upon many, many homes.
> In the small village of ‘Abbas-Abad where many of the inhabitants were
> Baha’ís, there was a strange fear of expectation as they went about their
> daily work. Then suddenly: “They are coming!” rang like a death-cry
> through the village street and echoed from house to house.
> This village has a special story to tell—one that will always stand as a
> witness to the shameless plottings of Prince Jalalu’d-Dawlih, the governor
> of Yazd. The prince, who had previously been responsible for the
> martyrdom of a number of Baha ’ís, had afterwards pretended to be sorry
> for what he had done and had begun to show kindness to the believers.
> Among those towards whom he professed friendship at this time was Mulla
> Bahram, whom he would often go to visit on his farm. Mulla Bahram had
> profound knowledge of agriculture and very good taste in laying out
> gardens and fields. The prince, therefore, decided to make use of him. He
> bought a large extent of wasteland at a very low price and asked Mulla
> Bahram to turn it into agricultural land for him. Mulla Bahram was very
> reluctant to give up his own prosperous farm and take on such a difficult
> job, but the prince gave him no peace until he had promised to do so.
> Jalalu’d-Dawlih called his new estate ‘Abbas-Abad. To the Muslims he
> said this was in honour of the Muslim martyr, ‘Abbas; to the Baha’ís he said
> that he had chosen ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s name* so that it might bring a blessing on
> his land.
> Mulla Bahram sold all his own property and went to live with his family
> on this barren piece of land. With him went several other families, people
> whom he had chosen from among his Baha ’í and Zoroastrian friends to help
> him in his work on the prince’s estate.
> 
> *
> ‘Abdu’l-Baha, meaning “Servant of the Glory”, is a title which the Master used.
> His name was ‘Abbas.
> Together they toiled ceaselessly until they had built houses, ploughed the
> fields, prepared the water ducts and sown the crop. Mulla Bahram spent
> every penny he had on ‘Abbas-Abad, and in return he was given some
> signed documents stating that the prince would pay him and his men their
> full dues as soon as the new crop was sold.
> The harvest was ready when news reached ‘Abbas-Abad that fresh
> persecution of Baha’ís had started in Yazd. Mulla Bahram and his friends
> knew that they were trapped in the prince’s village and had no way of
> escape. First, one of their young men who had gone to buy sheep from a
> neighbouring farm was killed, then a message was received from Jalalu’d-
> Dawlih ordering Mulla Bahram to return all the signed documents in his
> possession. Mulla Bahram refused to do this as these papers were all that
> he and his men had received in return for the capital and hard work that
> they had put into building up the new estate. The prince’s messengers,
> however, were ordered not to come back without the documents. They
> gave Mulla Bahram a severe beating which impaired his eyesight to the end
> of his life, and took away the papers by force.
> Having lost all his life’s savings in this way, Mulla Bahram now
> wondered where he and his friends could take their families so as to escape
> being massacred by the bloodthirsty mob that was already on its way to
> ‘Abbas-Abad. There was nowhere they could go.
> “They are coming!” cried someone through the village, and the helpless
> inhabitants bolted their front doors, hoping to keep the murderers off for a
> few more minutes. What scenes of sorrow must have taken place behind
> those closed doors as parents clasped their terrified children to themselves,
> praying God that the little ones might be spared! The noise of the crowd as
> it approached the village was enough to strike terror, into the bravest
> heart. Then someone arrived with a message: “The eminent priests who
> have come to this village have ordered that all the inhabitants should come
> out into the street! Everybody has to obey this order men, women and
> children!” They were not going to trouble themselves with breaking down
> the doors.
> Mulla Bahram stepped out alone, telling everybody else to stay in their
> homes. As he started to walk towards the savage crowd, a few of his
> friends could not bear to see him go alone and they, too,
> 
> followed at a distance.
> Thousands of people had gathered to attack the villagers, most of them
> carrying spades and other farming tools, though there was also a group of
> forty gunmen among them. Walking at the head of this crowd were three
> Muslim priests, one of whom recognized Mulla Bahram as he approached.
> This priest had had various dealings with Mulla Bahram in the past and had
> become one of his admirers. Now, watching him walk towards his would-
> be murderers, the priest’s heart was touched and, turning to the crowd, he
> said; “These Zoroastrians who live in ‘Abbas-Abad are, according to the
> explicit laws of our religion, under the protection of Islam and no one is
> permitted to molest them. Tell me, is there anyone here who can bring
> forward a complaint against Mulla Bahram and his friends?” The priest
> was not the only one who was moved at the sight of Mulla Bahram.
> Another man stepped forward and said; “I have heard of the goodness and
> generosity of this man who stands before us. When there were four
> hundred poor Muslim labourers working in this village, he showed them
> every kindness. He saw to it that none of them ever went hungry, and if he
> heard they were in need of food he would bring them whatever he had in
> his own house. When he had no bread to give, he would give away dried
> fruit or vegetables. Not once did he refuse to help our fellow-believers.”
> The priest made the most of this: “Now that there is no one here who can
> complain against Mulla Bahram,” he said, “let us go away and leave him and
> his friends in peace.” These words, however, had little effect on the savage
> mob. They had come a long distance, getting more and more excited as
> they approached the village, and they were not prepared to see their
> helpless victims suddenly snatched away from them now. The priest had
> found it much easier to spur them on to killing and pillage in the first place.
> His words were received in tense silence, and not one man made a move to
> obey him.
> Fortunately, the head of the group of gunmen who had joined the crowd
> on their way to the village was prepared to side with the priest. “Did you
> not hear what our religious dignitary said?” he shouted to the crowd.
> “What are you waiting for?” Let us go!” No one moved. “Here, boys,” he
> called out to his men. “See if you cannot send away these people.” No
> sooner had the men raised
> 
> their guns, than the crowd began to move away.
> This incident was so extraordinary that for days the inhabitants of
> ‘Abbas-Abad could hardly believe it had really happened. But their
> difficulties were far from being over. Prince Jalalu’d-Dawlih now gave
> orders that they should leave his estate at once. “Where are we to go?” they
> asked. “We are surrounded by enemies who will kill us on the roads, and
> even if we escape them, no one will give us refuge either in Yazd or in the
> villages around.”
> Mulla Bahram wrote three letters to the prince asking for his help, but
> he would not reply. Feeling responsible for the safety of his friends and
> their families, Mulla Bahram wrote a fourth time, entreating the prince and
> adjuring him by the life of his own children to take pity on these people
> who had served him so faithfully and issue an order that they should not be
> harmed when they left the safety of their homes. This time, Jalalu’d-Dawlih
> signed a statement to say that the inhabitants of ‘Abbas-Abad were not to
> be molested when they left his estate.
> Such was the story of the village which Mulla Bahram and his friends
> built for the governor of Yazd.
> 
> The flight to Káshán
> There was a knock on the door. Mulla Bahram wondered who it could
> be at such an unusual hour of the night. Was there some new danger
> threatening his life? Had his enemies come to know he was staying here?
> Mulla Bahram, who had barely escaped with his life from ‘Abbas-Abad,
> had arrived in this village three days before and only a few of his close
> friends knew of his whereabouts. This midnight knock on the door
> reminded him of the many dangers which surrounded his life so long as he
> remained in the vicinity of Yazd. On the other hand, it was almost
> impossible to leave. All the roads were well guarded for miles around, and
> no one as famous a Baha’í as Mulla Bahram could hope to escape.
> The knock was repeated—a gentle knock it was, not loud and
> aggressive. “It may be a friend,” thought Mulla Bahram as he rose to open
> the door. But he could have never guessed who it was that
> 
> had come to see him at such a time. It was his old friend with whom he had
> worked in Kashan many years ago, and who had been the first person to tell
> him of the Baha’í Faith. This friend, being convinced that Mulla Bahram
> would, sooner or later, fall into the hands of his enemies if he stayed in Yazd,
> had set out on foot to find him and help him escape to Kashan. He now
> recounted to Mulla Bahram the circumstances of the last cruel martyrdom
> that had taken place only some hours before, and begged him to come away
> from Yazd. A few Muslims, Mulla Bahram was told, had recognized a Baha’í
> in the hills outside the town and, having cut off his head, they had placed it
> in a box, covered it with fresh leaves, and sent it to his wife as a gift of fruit.
> Arrangements were made for Mulla Bahram to leave that same night.
> They found a friend who knew the countryside very well and was prepared
> to take him as far as another village without getting close to any of the
> roads and footpaths in the dark. Yet another friend took him through the
> wilderness to a place outside the boundaries of Yazd, from where Mulla
> Bahram could make his way to Kashan and comparative safety.
> 
> A father’s grief
> Among the many hardships which had to be endured by the early
> Baha’ís were the difficulties they came across in burying their dead. They
> were seldom permitted to use cemeteries belonging to other religions, nor
> was it easy for them to purchase land to be used as a Baha’í cemetery.
> Many a time the buried bodies of Baha’ís were dug up by fanatical crowds
> and burned or disgraced in public, so that when a Baha’í lost a dear friend
> or a close relative, he not only grieved because of his loss, but also because
> he could not be sure that the body of his loved one would escape the
> assaults of a savage mob.
> Mulla Bahram, who received his full share of the sufferings which were
> meted out in those days to all who professed the new Faith, lost a fourteen-
> year-old daughter after he became a Baha ’í. To add to his great sorrow,
> neither would the Zoroastrian priests allow the body to be taken to their
> tower of silence, nor would the Muslim
> 
> clergy let it be buried in their cemetery. Mulla Bahram wondered what was
> to become of his beloved child. After two days of great anxiety, an
> influential Zoroastrian friend who had some knowledge of Mulla Bahram’s
> religious beliefs persuaded the Zoroastrian priests to permit the body to be
> taken to the tower of silence.
> Mulla Bahram paid the priests, as was the custom, in the presence of
> hundreds of people who had gathered to see the last rites performed before
> the body was taken away. His Zoroastrian friend, seeing that Mulla Bahram
> was giving the priests more than their due, rebuked him saying: “You will
> only make them more greedy, and they will not be content with what the
> poor can afford.” The grief-stricken father replied in a voice loud enough
> for the priests to hear: “Only a part of what I am giving is their due. The
> rest is a gift from me because they let me keep my precious child with me
> for two more days.” His words were not without effect on his hearers. One
> of the priests was deeply touched. He later investigated the Faith and
> became a devoted Baha ’í.
> 
> The honoured guest
> One day, when Mulla Bahram was living in Tihran, he received news
> that his cousin had been taken to prison in Yazd because he had buried his
> infant child according to Baha ’í laws. The Zoroastrian priests had
> complained to the authorities saying that this man had rejected the sacred
> religious obligations of his own people, and had buried his child in
> accordance with heretical rites. They insisted that he should be punished,
> and the governor had had him chained and taken to prison.
> On receiving the sad news, Mulla Bahram set out to see a high official in
> the government who could help remedy this great injustice. The person he
> went to visit was surrounded by a number of distinguished guests when
> Mulla Bahram arrived. One of these guests, seeing a man enter the gates
> dressed in the clothes of a Zoroastrian, ordered the guard to throw out “this
> dog of an infidel”. The host, however, caught sight of Mulla Bahram and
> hurried out to receive him in person. He accompanied him into the room
> and asked Mulla Bahram to occupy his own seat. When his guest declined
> to do this, he insisted and would
> 
> not be content until Mulla Bahram had sat in the seat of honour. As the high
> official himself was still standing, all the other guests remained standing
> too. Everyone was amazed at the respect and homage paid to this unknown
> visitor. “The respect I pay you, Mulla Bahram,” said his host, “is your due,
> for it is not often that one comes across a person who will not accept money
> when it is offered him.” Mulla Bahram now rose and begged his host to take
> a seat, then he went on to tell him why he had come. The high official
> immediately called for his secretary and dictated a telegram to be sent to
> the governor of Yazd, ordering him to release Mulla Bahram’s cousin
> without further delay. The wording of this message was so harsh and
> insulting that Mulla Bahram politely requested that it be put in milder
> language. “Write it out yourself,” Mulla Bahram’s host told him, “and I will
> sign it and send it.”
> His errand accomplished, Mulla Bahram rose to go and the host
> courteously accompanied him to the door. The reason for this great
> honour shown to Mulla Bahram by such a high official, who would not
> normally dream of receiving a common man from a Zoroastrian
> background into his house, remained a mystery to many who were present
> in that gathering, but a few of the host’s close friends might have been told
> the facts of the story:
> This high official had been in debt at one time and unable to pay in cash.
> The person to whom he owed the money was not a man who could be put
> off, so it was agreed that he should be given a mansion with extensive
> grounds to meet the debt. The two parties, however, could not come to an
> agreement about the value of this property; nor could they trust each other
> to bring an expert to price it. Whomsoever one of them suggested, the
> other would promptly reject, knowing that he would be bribed to value the
> property in favour of the person who had chosen him.
> At last the two men decided that they would ask the famous Zoroastrian
> merchant for whom Mulla Bahram was working at that time to send his
> own man to value the property. The merchant sent Mulla Bahram who had
> expert knowledge on such matters, and who did all the merchant’s own
> selling and buying of property.
> The very first day Mulla Bahram went to see the mansion, he was met
> by the high official who owned it. The gentleman was waiting in his
> carriage at the entrance to the grounds and asked
> 
> Mulla Bahram to go for a drive with him. On the way he handed Mulla
> Bahram a cheque for a sum which exceeded the total amount Mulla Bahram
> received for six years’ wages! “What is this?” Mulla Bahram enquired. “This
> mansion,” said the gentleman, “should pay back the debt I owe. I want you
> to value it in a way that will enable me to do this.” Mulla Bahram said:
> “Please keep this cheque for the time being, and we shall see about it later.”
> The actual value of the property happened to be more than the owner
> had hoped for and, after the matter was settled and the debt paid, the high
> official met Mulla Bahram again and offered him a cheque for a larger sum
> than that which he was prepared to give before. Mulla Bahram thanked
> him and said: “I cannot receive any money from you as I am employed by
> another man from whom I receive a salary. It was he who asked me to
> value your mansion, and I did this as part of my daily job.”
> At a time when the giving and taking of bribes was considered as a
> normal procedure and everyone, from the Prime Minister to the poorest
> labourer, expected to give or take bribes, Mulla Bahram’s honesty and
> integrity of character was so unusual that it had justly merited the respect
> and admiration of the high official.
> Note: A few of these stories which bear little or no direct relationship to the
> Baha’í Faith are included in the book because they give a picture of life in those
> days.
> 
> Hitting the mark
> The famous merchant for whom Mulla Bahram worked in Tihran was
> much concerned about a very large debt which the chieftains of the
> Turkaman tribe had owed him for a long time. They took no notice of
> letters and messages which were sent to their desert home, and it was not
> easy to reach them in any other way. These people were not only difficult
> to get to, but were often very dangerous to encounter, especially when they
> were met in their own desert surroundings. There they ruled supreme,
> unconcerned about the laws which a prince or governor was able to
> enforce in some faraway city. In fact, the word of a man who could ride
> well and hit his mark with a bullet carried far more weight with
> 
> these tribesmen than any orders issued by a delicate nobleman with high-
> sounding titles.
> The merchant, after giving the matter great thought, chose Mulla
> Bahram from among all his employees and servants to go to the Turkaman
> desert and collect his debts. Fortunately for Mulla Bahram, he was an
> accomplished horseman and expert in handling a gun.
> Mulla Bahram decided to take only one other person with him on his
> dangerous mission. This was another Baha’í, a close friend of his who also
> worked for the noted merchant. Together they chose two of the best
> horses from their master’s stable, took enough food to last for a few days
> and armed themselves in preparation for any dangers they might
> encounter.
> Nothing of importance took place until they were within a day’s ride
> from the desert. There they had their first warning of the perils that lay
> ahead. At a shabby-looking inn by the wayside they met a band of highway
> robbers who used the inn as their meeting place and kept close watch over
> all the passengers who came that way. If any were suspected of carrying
> money or valuables, they would be followed after they had left the inn.
> There were few, if any, among the passengers who had come this way with
> anything worth robbing who could boast of having escaped the notorious
> gang of thieves.
> When Mulla Bahram and his friend arrived, the robbers were practising
> shooting out in the open. They were trying to hit the marks on a piece of
> cardboard they had set at some distance, and were not having much
> success. Mulla Bahram, tired after the long day’s journey, sat down to
> watch the gang, but his friend had other plans for him. “This gentleman,”
> he told the men standing around, “is quite good with his gun, and he would
> not mind joining you in your sport if you have no objections.” “None at all,”
> they assured him, and Mulla Bahram was invited to take a turn. Mulla
> Bahram had no wish to do so, but as they were insistent, he asked: “Which
> of the marks would you like me to hit?” The men smiled at each other as
> their leader said: “Try the bottom one on the left.” The mark was promptly
> hit. “Surely, this was a coincidence!” they exclaimed. “Let us see you hit the
> top one on the right.” Mulla Bahram took aim and hit the mark without any
> difficulty. There was great excitement, but a few of the men still doubted if
> he would have as much luck with the remaining marks on the cardboard.
> To
> 
> assure them, Mulla Bahram hit every single one!
> This kind of marksmanship was by no means common, even among the
> tribesmen, and Mulla Bahram’s fame followed him wherever he went. The
> little incident at the inn saved him and his friend many unpleasant
> encounters while travelling in the desert. He was looked upon with
> reverence and awe as he moved among the tribesmen, and he had no
> difficulty in collecting his master’s debts. The chieftains ordered several
> horses to be loaded with the merchandise they were expected to send to
> the merchant, and added many gifts as well.
> 
> Change of fortune
> Prince Jalalu’d-Dawlih, the governor of Yazd, during whose rule the
> Baha’ís underwent terrible persecutions, was hated by the Muslims
> themselves. He was notorious for his insatiable greed and his extreme
> cruelty which induced him to murder some of his victims with his own
> hands. No one could be safe from the machinations of this cunning man so
> long as he was in power. The time came, however, when the oppressed
> people of Yazd could no longer endure life under the tyrant. They sent
> repeated complaints about him to the capital; in the end he lost his position
> and was called to Tihran in disgrace.
> The new Shah was not on good terms with Jalalu’d-Dawlih, and this
> encouraged people both in Yazd and in Tihran to come forward with many
> charges against him, insisting that he should appear in court. One of his
> most powerful creditors was the rich and influential Zoroastrian merchant
> for whom Mulla Bahram was working in Tihran. This man now received a
> message from the high authorities in the country advising him to demand
> all that was his due from Jalalu’d-Dawlih and accept no excuses
> whatsoever.
> The merchant decided to go to the prince in person, but knowing that
> Jalalu’d-Dawlih was capable of every crime, he asked Mulla Bahram and a
> servant to arm themselves and escort him to the prince’s mansion outside
> the city. Jalalu’d-Dawlih came out to greet his guest in person and began
> speaking in his usual flattering language, but the merchant knew him too
> well by now and was
> 
> determined not to listen to his cunning speech. He told the armed servant
> he had brought with him to stay outside the door, while he and Mulla
> Bahram followed the prince inside.
> Jalalu’d-Dawlih, seeing Mulla Bahram enter with his employer,
> mentioned that he would like to speak to the merchant in private, but the
> latter would not be left alone with the prince. He said that he had no
> secrets from Mulla Bahram and would like him to be present during their
> talks. Jalalu’d-Dawlih was obliged to endure the great humiliation of
> having Mulla Bahram, whom he had robbed of all his capital and treated
> with savage cruelty, present at such a time to be a witness to his disgrace.
> The prince was finally taken to court and forced to face the many
> charges brought against him. He lost all his property, much of his vast
> lands and estates going to the Zoroastrian merchant. Among these was the
> village of ‘Abbas-Abad which had been built by the toil and capital of Mulla
> Bahram.
> It is strange that, when the day for Jalalu’d-Dawlih’s trial had been fixed,
> the person he dreaded most was Mulla Bahram. He sent a message to some
> of the Baha’ís in Tihran entreating them to persuade Mulla Bahram not to
> appear in court, and promising to pay back all the money he owed him.
> Mulla Bahram, fearing that the prince might come back to power and start
> persecuting his fellow-believers once more, did not complain against him.
> But the promise was not kept, and only a very small part of Mulla Bahram’s
> capital was eventually paid back to him.
> 
> Giving to the end
> The life of Mulla Bahram was an inspiration to many who knew him. So
> great was the devotion and respect he had inspired in the heart of his
> employer during the many years he worked for him that the famous
> Zoroastrian merchant came to mention the name of Mulla Bahram among
> the saints he named during his daily prayers!
> When Mulla Bahram was an old man, he was going home late from a
> Baha’í meeting one night. He had come a long way on foot; it was snowing
> and the weather was bitterly cold. His son, who
> 
> had come out to meet him, was helping him along when they came across a
> beggar shivering and moaning from the cold. The man had no clothing
> except an old pair of pants and a sack which he had put over his head and
> shoulders. Mulla Bahram stopped the beggar and told his son to stay with
> him until he came back. Then he went behind a wall, took off his warm
> gown and trousers and brought them for the man.
> As he wrapped his ‘aba* round himself, Mulla Bahram told his son:
> “When I arrived here from Yazd, I, too, was dressed like this beggar.”
> 
> The Jewish physician
> Hakím Aqa Janí† hurried along the narrow lanes of Hamadan to the
> house of Muhammad-Baqir who, carrying a lantern to light the way, ran on
> in front. Muhammad-Baqir’s wife lay desperately ill, shaken with
> convulsions and crying out in pain. She had been suffering with fever when
> the Jewish physician, Hakím Aqa Jan, was called in to see her earlier that
> evening, and he had given her a few pills to take, saying that she would
> soon feel better. She had scarcely taken the pills, however, when her
> condition grew worse and she was seized with severe pains and
> convulsions.
> Hurrying to her bedside now, Hakím Aqa Jan had one look at his patient
> and the blood drained out of his face. He immediately realized what had
> happened: instead of the quinine pills he intended to give her, he had
> handed out strychnine. Not only was the patient now in danger of losing
> her life, but so was he himself. Indeed, knowing the hatred which the
> Muslims bore towards his people, Hakím Aqa Jan wondered if the
> consequences of such a mistake on his part might not affect his family and
> the whole Jewish population of Hamadan. He trembled at the thought and
> scarcely heard the question Muhammad-Baqir was asking. The latter,
> sensing the state of the doctor’s mind, asked the reason for his extreme
> anxiety. “I have made a mistake in giving the pills,” confessed Hakím Aqa
> Jan. “Anyone can make a mistake,” said Muhammad-Baqir. “You did not do
> this on purpose, and even if the patient
> 
> *
> Cloak or mantle.
> †
> Hakím means physician.
> should die, no one will blame you for it.”
> Hakím Aqa Jan could not believe his ears. Was it indeed a Muslim who
> spoke thus to him, a Jew? But there was no time to dwell on such mysteries
> when his patient needed all his attention. He rushed out of the house to the
> nearest drug shop and, having purchased some medicine with which he
> hoped he might be able to save her life, hurried back to sit with his patient
> through the night. After agonizing hours of suspense in which he did every
> possible thing within his power to save her, he was at last relieved to see
> that the danger had passed and that she would live.
> During all this time, the gracious courtesy and the kindness with which
> he had been received in the home of Muhammad-Baqir greatly affected and
> somewhat puzzled the physician. He had had many dealings with Muslims
> before and was familiar with the way they treated Jews, especially under
> such unfavourable conditions. The more he thought about it, the more he
> wondered at the unusual behaviour of this household.
> Later, he mustered enough courage to ask Muhammad-Baqir about his
> religious beliefs. “I belong to a new Faith,” was Muhammad-Baqir’s reply, “I
> am a Baha’í.” Hakím Aqa Jan was immediately interested to know about
> this new Faith and, after a period of investigation, became an ardent
> follower himself.
> He was the first Jew to embrace the Cause in Hamadan, and although he
> did not live more than a few years after becoming a Baha’í, he was able to
> bring a great number of other Jews into the Faith before he passed away.
> 
> Teaching in Hamadán
> One of the first individuals to be given the new Message by Hakím Aqa
> Jan, and who responded to the call of Baha ’u’llah, was no less a personage
> than his own father—a famous rabbi of the Jewish community of Hamadan.
> After his father had embraced the Cause, Hakím Aqa Jan decided to address
> the whole of the Jewish congregation gathered one day in the synagogue, in
> the hope that they, too, would prove receptive to the Message.
> 
> The Jews in Hamadan all knew Hakím Aqa Jan. They had grown to love
> and respect him as the symbol of Jewish virtues in their community. But
> when he spoke to them from the pulpit, telling them of his belief in the
> Cause of Baha’u’llah and calling upon them to investigate the new Faith,
> they threw him out of the synagogue and called him a blasphemer.
> Hakím Aqa Jan was not disheartened by their attitude, and soon many of
> those who had heard his sincere appeal in the synagogue sought him out
> privately and asked about his beliefs. In the course of that year, though
> surrounded by opposition from many sides, forty Jews embraced the Faith
> in Hamadan. Among them was the learned Hají Mihdí* who became an
> ardent teacher of the Cause and spent the rest of his life serving the Faith.
> His knowledge of the Bible and the Qur’an amazed everyone, and a great
> number of Jews, Christians and Muslims who heard him quote these Holy
> Books and refer to the prophecies in them concerning the advent of the Bab
> and Baha’u’llah were convinced of the truth of Their Cause.
> At one time Hají Mihdí was teaching a number of Jews and Christians
> who were also attending the discourses of a well-known Christian
> missionary in Hamadan—Mr. Holmes. One of these men challenged Mr.
> Holmes to meet Hají Mihdí and discuss the Holy Bible with him. The
> missionary accepted the challenge, and meetings were arranged where a
> number of people—Jews, Christians, Muslims and Baha’ís—gathered twice
> a week to hear Mr. Holmes and Hají Mihdí discuss various passages from
> the Bible. It was agreed from the beginning that a record of the discussions
> should be kept each time. Both Mr. Holmes and Hají Mihdí were to sign
> these papers at the end of the meeting.
> These discussions, which went on for two years, gradually took the form
> of an exposition of Bible prophecies on the Baha ’í Faith. Those who were
> present marvelled at the extent of the knowledge and insight of Hají Mihdí
> as he quoted verse after verse from the Old and New Testaments and
> expounded the meanings. Even the Christian missionary was often heard
> to exclaim with admiration: “Hají Mihdí knows the Bible so well
> 
> *
> Hají is one who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca.
> that you would think he had written it himself!” The records which were
> kept of these meetings were later gathered in the form of a book and
> published for the benefit of others.
> Hají Mihdí’s teaching activities were soon to attract the enmity of
> fanatical people among the members of all religions, and many were the
> sufferings which befell him at the hands of these people. But once in a
> while the outcome of the plots carefully planned against him and his fellow-
> believers would not be to the complete satisfaction of their foes. The
> following is an example of one such incident:
> The rabbis of the Jews in Hamadan complained to the governor, saying
> that some of the members of their community had left the congregation
> and become a disgrace to the Jewish people because they were guilty of
> unforgivable conduct. They gave him a list of those who had become
> Baha’ís, foremost among whom was Hají Mihdí, and asked him to punish
> them. The governor, however, appointed a day when the Jews who had
> complained, and those whose names they had given, should all gather in his
> presence so that he could hear both parties. The Jews decided that an old
> rabbi, who was considered to be the most experienced among them, should
> be the only one to address the governor because the others might be
> indiscreet in their speech.
> As soon as the Jews and Baha ’ís had arrived and taken their seats, the
> governor, turning to the Jews, enquired about their complaint. Everyone
> kept quiet while the wise rabbi spoke: “Your honour,” he said, “these
> people do not adhere to the laws of the Torah. They break the Sabbath by
> touching fire and doing business, but worse than that, they eat what is
> filthy and unclean.” “What filth have they eaten?” the curious governor
> enquired.” “The meat and cheese the Muslims sell …” began the rabbi, but
> he did not get any further with the list he had in mind. “What!” exclaimed
> the furious governor, “have you come here to tell me that although you live
> in a Muslim country, you consider our food as filth?” Then, turning to his
> servants, he cried, “Beat these people and throw them out of my sight—and
> let me never set eyes on them again!”
> 
> The difficult crossing
> Taqí Khan had a dear friend to whom he longed to talk about his Faith,
> but his friend, Ishraq, was a very strict Muslim who would not tolerate any
> mention of the Baha’ís or their religion which he considered to be sheer
> heresy. So prejudiced was he against the new Faith that, had he known his
> friend Taqí Khan to be a Baha’í, he would have broken off his friendship
> with him and refused to see him any more. Even when Taqí Khan, once in a
> while and with extreme caution, made some reference to the Cause, Ishraq
> would be so upset that he would stop talking to his friend. Taqí Khan,
> however, drawn by his devotion to Ishraq, would do everything in his
> power to regain his goodwill and all would be well between them until,
> unable to restrain himself, Taqí Khan would refer to the subject again.
> This went on for some time, but the friendship between the two men
> grew despite the repeated separations which took place. Taqí Khan, whose
> shop was far from where Ishraq worked, moved into a new place in order
> to be close to his friend and they spent much of their time together. Having
> by now lost all hope of being able to talk to Ishraq about the Baha’í Faith
> himself, Taqí Khan decided to introduce him to a fellow-believer who might
> prove to be more fortunate in approaching the subject with him. The one
> he chose for Ishraq to meet was Adíb, a distinguished and learned Baha’í
> who had been a noted Muslim clergyman before, and whose turban and
> cloak—signs of knowledge and authority as far as religious matters were
> concerned—made a good impression on Ishraq when he first went to see
> him with Taqí Khan. It was Adíb’s personal behaviour and genuine
> kindness, however, which won Ishraq’s great admiration and moved him to
> ask, before they rose to go, whether he might be permitted to repeat the
> visit. Adíb assured him that he would always be welcomed in his house and
> that it would not be necessary for him to make any special appointment
> beforehand.
> Encouraged by Adíb’s invitation, Ishraq decided to call upon him one
> day in Ramadan* when he happened to be in that neighbour-
> 
> *
> Month of the fast.
> hood. He found the door of the house open and, on knocking, heard Adíb’s
> voice inviting him to walk in. Upon entering the room, however, he was
> horrified to see the revered personage he had come to visit sitting with
> three young men who seemed to be his guests, drinking tea in the sacred
> month of the fast! Ishraq was so upset by this that he could not conceal his
> feelings and reproached Adíb saying: “One would think that someone like
> you should be able to set a better example than this for the youth to follow.
> If you, with your position and knowledge, refuse to keep the fast, what can
> be expected from the younger generation? Do you not realize the great
> harm you are doing to our religion?” “If you will sit down,” Adíb replied
> with great dignity, “I may be able to give you a good reason why my guests
> and I are not fasting.” But Ishraq was too upset to listen to any reasons.
> “Even if you, yourself, have a legitimate reason for not being able to observe
> the fast,” he told Adíb, “you can have no excuse for encouraging others to
> disrespect the month of Ramadan.” “But I may not be a Muslim at all,”
> protested Adíb, “and may not believe in observing the fast in this particular
> month.” Ishraq was so infuriated by this remark that he left Adíb’s house
> immediately, and would not stay to hear another word. Neither would he
> have anything more to do with his friend Taqí Khan, who had introduced
> him to someone whom he considered to be a disloyal Muslim priest.
> But Taqí Khan would not forsake his friend, knowing that Ishraq’s
> sincere love for his religion was his greatest virtue even if he did become
> tactless and intolerant at times. He also realized that Ishraq’s attachment
> to Islam would, in itself, become the means of his recognizing the One
> promised in the holy Scriptures of that Faith—if he could only be
> persuaded to forget his prejudice against the Baha’ís long enough to see
> what they had to say!
> Taqí Khan’s patience was rewarded when he, after quite a long time,
> succeeded in making Ishraq realize that the Qur’an condemned blind
> intolerance and taught that the true Muslim should investigate every claim
> before denouncing it as false. As soon as Ishraq was prepared to enquire
> about the teachings of the Baha ’í Faith, Taqí Khan knew that the most
> difficult stage had been passed, and that his friend would come to see the
> truth of the new Cause.
> Adíb, the person Ishraq had been instinctively drawn to, helped
> 
> him a great deal when he started to investigate the Faith; but it was not an
> easy matter for a person as prejudiced as Ishraq to become a Baha’í.
> Fortunately, his devotion to Islam was greater than all his prejudices, and it
> was this loyalty to his own religion which led him to accept the fulfilment of
> its prophecies.
> It is recorded in the Traditions of Islam that, when the Promised One
> appears, men will be called upon to cross a bridge which is narrower than a
> hair and sharper than a sword. Ishraq, and many others like him, must
> have often thought of this famous tradition as they prayed God to help
> them not to falter on the dangerous path which leads to the knowledge of
> the new Revelation.
> 
> Father and son
> When Ishraq became a Baha’í, his father, who was a very strict Muslim,
> forbade him to enter his house any more, refused to call him his son and
> made no provision for him in his will. He, moreover, moved his residence
> from Tihran to Qum so that he would never set eyes on his son again.
> Ishraq received no news from this parents for a full year, after which he
> happened to hear from an acquaintance who had arrived from Qum that his
> mother was seriously ill. Longing to see her once more, he wrote a letter to
> his mother begging her to ask his father’s permission that he might pay her
> a visit. She replied a few days later to say that she had succeeded in
> obtaining his father’s permission only after hours of begging and weeping,
> but on one condition—that he denounce all forms of false beliefs and
> accept the true precepts of Islam before entering his father’s house.
> Ishraq immediately set out for Qum and, having arrived at his parents’
> home, was met by his father who told him that he could not see his mother
> until he renounced all false beliefs and ungodly practices. Ishraq was
> prepared for this. “May the wrath of the Almighty, His prophets, His saints,
> His angels and chosen ones,” he said, “rest upon those who come with false
> claims and all who follow the path of the ungodly.” Ishraq’s father was
> delighted. Having embraced his son and kissed his face, he conducted him
> to his mother.
> 
> That evening Ishraq’s father took him to hear the lecture of Mulla
> Mahmud, one of the well-known divines of Qum who was famed for his
> learning and for whom everyone had great respect. Mulla Mahmud gave a
> lecture in the mosque on religious matters every evening. Later he sat
> down with some of his close followers in a pleasant spot to smoke the
> hubble-bubble, sip tea and discuss different topics.
> Ishraq’s father decided that his son should accompany him to Mulla
> Mahmud’s lecture every evening and also join the circle of the mulla’s
> followers in listening to his discussions after the lecture. Ishraq attended
> the lectures and listened to the discussions, taking in much more than his
> father realized.
> It was a habit with Mulla Mahmud that he would always end his lectures
> by mentioning some sad event pertaining to the martyrs of Karbila and
> weeping over the tragedy, while his audience followed his example and
> wept also. One evening, he finished his speech by relating how the first
> person who made the pilgrimage to the shrine of the martyr Imam Husayn
> greeted the holy Imam three successive times but received no answer. “For
> how could the martyred Husayn reply,” wailed Mulla Mahmud, “when his
> blessed head was severed from his body.” Here the mulla wept, the
> audience beat their breasts and wept and the lecture came to an end.
> Another evening, the mulla rounded off his lecture by saying that the
> blessed head of Imam Husayn, though severed from the body, recited
> verses from the Qur’an on three successive occasions. Ishraq’s father was
> greatly pleased with the mention of this miracle and said: “It is strange that
> these misled Babís dare to say they do not accept miracles when the head
> of our holy Imam has shown forth such wonderful signs.” On the way home
> that evening he especially commended the mulla and asked Ishraq to pay
> great attention to all that he said so as to benefit by his vast knowledge.
> A few evenings later when the mulla sat down with his chosen circle of
> disciples after the lecture to sip tea and smoke his pipe, Ishraq politely
> enquired if he might ask a question. Having received the mulla’s
> permission, he said: “Is it true that it is incumbent upon every true Muslim
> to greet whomever he meets, but that it is only an act of merit to reply to
> the greeting?” The mulla said: “No, my son, it is exactly the opposite.
> Greeting a person is a worthy act,
> 
> but to answer a greeting is incumbent upon every true Muslim.”
> Ishraq put a second question to the mulla after some days: “Is reading
> the Qur’an an act of obligation,” he asked, “or is it an act of merit?” The
> mulla replied that it was not obligatory but a worthy thing to do. Ishraq’s
> father was sadly disappointed in his son. “Why do you ask questions that
> even an illiterate Muslim knows,” he said. “You should be asking for the
> explanation of important and difficult problems.” “I am not sure,” replied
> Ishraq, “that the questions I ask will not help to unravel an important
> problem, for I cannot see how the head of Imam Husayn, whom we all
> know as a perfect Muslim, should recite the Qur’an on three successive
> occasions and yet fail to answer the greetings of a pilgrim who repeated his
> greetings three times, when every Muslim knows that reciting the Qur’an is
> only an act of merit, whereas the reply to a person’s greeting is incumbent
> upon every believer.”
> A hush fell upon the gathering and everyone wondered what answer the
> mulla would give. Mulla Mahmud, shaking with fury, snatched the pipe
> from his mouth and cried: “Shameless fool! What right have you to
> interfere in such matters!” Then, turning to Ishraq’s father he said: “Your
> son is not only impudent and rude, but I can also see that he is a Babí, for
> the Babís always try to belittle the divines and religious dignitaries in the
> eyes of others. I do not doubt that you yourself are a Muslim, but you may
> be sure that your son has renounced the true Faith of God.” Ishraq’s father
> said: “It is true that my son associated with this group for a short while, but
> he renounced all those who have come with false claims and cursed those
> who have strayed away from the path of God before I let him enter my
> house.” Mulla Mahmud smiled mockingly. “I did not know you could be so
> simple,” he said. “Your son has denounced those who have made false
> claims because he is convinced that the Bab is a true Prophet, and when he
> curses those who leave the path of God, it is you and me he curses. I now
> warn you,” he added, “that if you do not send your son away from Qum
> immediately, I will carry out what I consider to be my duty.” Having said
> this, Mulla Mahmud left the gathering, while the others assured Ishraq’s
> father that the mulla would sign his son’s death-warrant if he should
> happen to set eyes on him again.
> On the way home that evening no word passed between father
> 
> and son, but on the morrow, as Ishraq prepared to leave, his father said:
> “Son, guard your tongue. Do not mention all you have to say in the presence
> of everyone.”
> Ishraq’s visit to Qum and his short discussion with Mulla Mahmud gave
> him an excuse to communicate with his father. Through his letters he was
> able to arouse his father’s curiosity concerning the new Faith he had
> embraced, so much so that he one day received an invitation to go back to
> Qum and stay with his father for a few days so as to be able to discuss his
> beliefs at length. But this was to be a secret visit; no one was to know of his
> arrival in Qum and he was not to leave the house at any time.
> During Ishraq’s second visit to Qum his father grew very interested in
> the Cause and expressed the desire to be introduced to other Baha’ís. It
> happened that a well-known Baha’í teacher from Tihran was about to pay a
> visit to Qum. Ishraq went to see this teacher in Tihran and asked him to
> meet his father. Some days later Ishraq received a very touching letter
> from his father, thanking him for having guided him to the Cause and
> saying that Ishraq was now the father and he the son.
> Ishraq also had a sister in Tihran who had been forbidden by their
> father and her husband to have anything to do with him. Now that their
> father had accepted the Cause, he wrote to her to go and find out how her
> brother was faring and whether he was in need of anything, so as to give
> her an excuse to visit Ishraq. Ishraq, on the other hand, received a letter
> from his father begging him to see that his sister was not deprived from the
> Message of the New Day. In this manner the brother and sister were
> brought together once again, although they still had to conceal their
> meeting from the knowledge of her fanatical husband.
> Ishraq’s sister, unaware of the fact that her father had already accepted
> the Cause, grew to be interested in her brother’s beliefs and in time
> expressed her desire to become a Baha ’í on condition that their father
> should never come to know about it. Ishraq then showed her the letter
> their father had sent him some time before, requesting him to give the
> Message of the new Faith to his sister. Her joy at the news was unbounded,
> so was her father’s joy when he was informed that she, too, had embraced
> the Cause.
> The mother of Ishraq did not become a believer herself, but
> 
> showed no opposition to the Faith. The only one in the family who could
> not be reconciled to the Cause was Ishraq’s brother-in-law. No sooner did
> he realize that his wife had also accepted the new Faith, than he
> disappeared altogether and it was only years later that the family came to
> know of his whereabouts.
> 
> A plan that worked
> Aqa Kamal lived with his elder brother in Kirmanshah. Their father,
> who had recently died, had left them a heritage, but Aqa Kamal’s brother,
> being a strict fanatical Muslim, threatened to confiscate everything because
> Aqa Kamal had become a Baha ’í. The clergy, too, had warned Aqa Kamal
> that if he were seen moving about with Baha’ís they would know that he
> was a follower of Baha’u’llah, and could therefore claim no share in his
> father’s wealth. This made it extremely difficult for Aqa Kamal to meet
> with his fellow-believers, especially as he and his brother lived in the same
> house.
> Ishraq, who had just arrived from Tihran and was not yet known to the
> people of Kirmanshah, thought of a plan by which he might be able to help
> Aqa Kamal. He asked Aqa Kamal to invite him and another Baha’í, who was
> also from a different part of the country, to go to his house for dinner one
> day so that they could meet Aqa Kamal’s brother. He was warned that the
> brother would refuse to listen to him if he were suspected of being a Baha ’í,
> and Ishraq promised to be very careful.
> There were a number of other guests at the home of Aqa Kamal that
> day, among them a bespectacled young man whom Aqa Kamal’s brother
> treated with marked reverence. Ishraq could tell from the tone of his
> speech and the choice of his words that he was a clergyman, though the
> recent orders of the Shah* forbade the priests to wear their traditional ‘aba
> and turban.
> They had been in the house for some time, and had touched upon the
> usual topics of the day, when the friend who had come with Ishraq turned
> to him and said: “Tell us, Mr. Ishraq do you in Tihran
> 
> *
> There was a new dynasty in power after World War I.
> come across the Baha’ís too?” “Indeed we do!” replied Ishraq. “They are
> very active in teaching their Faith. What is more, once you start listening to
> what they have to say, you wonder what to tell them in reply. I, myself, am
> one of their many victims and I have not yet been able to refute their
> arguments.” He then explained what the Baha’ís said, and some of the
> proofs they gave in support of their beliefs. “Now you see what I mean,” he
> concluded. “If only we could find a way of proving them to be wrong, they
> would not be able to influence people so much. I wish I could meet
> someone who could arm us with proper arguments by which to silence
> these Baha’ís.”
> One of the guests turned to the bespectacled gentleman present and
> said: “I am sure Mr. Sadr will be able to help you.” Mr. Sadr himself was
> not so sure as he now listened to Ishraq explain in some detail the beliefs of
> the Baha’ís and the answers they gave to the objections raised against their
> Faith. He could think of nothing to say. On the other hand, an interest had
> been roused and everyone was waiting for him to speak. “In order to give
> you a satisfactory answer,” he said at last, “I must refer to certain books and
> make a study of the subject, but I know of a noted religious dignitary who
> has an answer to every problem and can refute the false arguments of these
> infidels with a few sentences.” “Would it be possible for me to have the
> honour of being introduced to this distinguished divine?” enquired Ishraq.
> “Yes indeed,” replied Mr. Sadr. “He is usually at home in the evenings.” “As
> I shall be soon leaving for Tihran,” said Ishraq, “and this matter is of great
> importance to me, do you think you could take me to him now?” The other
> men said that they, too, would be interested to hear the learned divine on
> this subject and asked Mr. Sadr to take them all to see him. Aqa Kamal
> alone thought it unwise to go, and found an excuse to stay behind.
> The men waited outside the house while Mr. Sadr went in to inform the
> religious dignitary of their arrival. After they had waited for a long time, a
> servant appeared and asked them to go in. They were ushered into a large
> room where an elderly person occupied the seat of honour. He sat on a
> thick cushion with a pile of books by his side. After the usual greetings
> were exchanged, Ishraq put his problem forward. The dignified personage
> repeated the current
> 
> arguments brought against the Baha’í Faith, and Ishraq politely informed
> him of the answers which the believers gave to such statements. The
> religious dignitary had apparently never heard the other side of the
> argument before, and this kept him silent for some time; then he said with
> grave authority: “It is a sin to talk to these infidels. No true Muslim should
> ever go near them.” “Would not the Baha’ís then say,” Ishraq calmly
> suggested, “that the clergy forbid people to talk to us because they are
> unable to refute our arguments? I beg you, sir, to give me at least one sound
> proof that can be produced as an unchallenged evidence against the claims
> of these people.” “I have told you what you should do,” said the eminent
> divine. “Stop talking to them!”
> Aqa Kamal’s brother, who had listened attentively to all the discussions,
> lost his patience at this point. “I have come to the conclusion,” he boldly
> told the religious dignitary, “that you have no answer to give the Baha ’ís,
> and that my brother is not such a fool after all.” Taking Ishraq by the hand,
> he said: “Come, let us go, for I have at last understood the truth of the
> matter.”
> Aqa Kamal, in the meantime, waited at home and wondered what would
> be the outcome of this meeting with the religious divine. His highest hopes,
> however, could not exceed the joy that awaited him. His brother, coming
> home from that fruitful meeting, embraced him tenderly and begged for his
> forgiveness. “I have wronged you in every way,” he said, “but our guest
> from Tihran has opened my eyes and I can see that you are right in your
> beliefs. I, too, am now prepared to join you!”
> 
> Brothers at last
> It may be difficult for some people to realize today what barriers of hate
> and prejudice existed between the people of different religions at the time
> when the early Baha’ís were striving to bring love and unity among them.
> The Muslims shunned the members of every other religion, regarding them
> as infidels and referring to them as “unclean dogs”. Minority groups were
> forced to wear clothes which identified them as “unbelievers” so that
> devout Muslims might not be defiled by taking food or drink from their
> hands. The Jews,
> 
> Christians and Zoroastrians, on their part, thoroughly hated all Muslims;
> neither would they have anything to do with each other. They were all
> convinced that anyone who did not believe in their own particular religion
> was an enemy of God and had sided with the devil.
> It was interesting to see at this time the miracle that was taking place
> within the Baha’í community, whose members came from all these
> different backgrounds. Ishraq recounts a touching incident which took
> place in Rasht when he was there on a teaching trip. He had been talking to
> a fanatical Muslim who gradually became interested in the new Faith and
> started investigating it very seriously. The man had many questions to ask,
> and was satisfied with the answers Ishraq gave him. Then one evening, as
> he sat in a Baha’í gathering and listened to the words of Baha’u’llah, it
> seemed as though a veil was suddenly removed from his eyes and he could
> see the beautiful Truth which lay at the heart of the new Message. He was
> overcome with emotion and, unable to restrain himself, went over to a man
> who had been a well-known Zoroastrian before he became a Baha’í, and
> embraced him as a long-lost brother. As his eyes filled with tears, he told
> the story of his relationship with this man. “We both work in the same
> bazaar,” he said, “and our offices are not far from each other. I hated to be
> so near a ‘heathen’ whom I knew had been a Zoroastrian before, and was
> now a Baha’í. One day, I saw the man who brought tea for us take a tray
> into the office of this gentleman. I was so furious that I got hold of the man
> and beat him till my own arms began to ache. I warned him that if I ever
> saw him serving tea to the ‘heathen’ again, I would kill him; then I went into
> the man’s tea-shop and, seeing that he had not put aside the glass out of
> which the ‘infidel’ had drunk his tea, I broke every single glass in the shop
> and paid for new ones to be bought so that Muslim customers could drink
> their tea out of clean glasses not polluted by the touch of unbelievers. And
> now,” he added with great feeling as he finished recounting the incident, “I
> wish to beg our host to bring a single glass of tea so that this brother of
> mine can drink half of it, and permit me to have the honour of drinking the
> rest.”
> 
> The journey of the mystic
> Vujdaní was a mystic at heart. He longed to reach that stage of inner
> peace and tranquility so foreign to most people engaged in the affairs of
> this world. His mother came from the aristocracy, and life offered him
> opportunities which other young men would have willingly seized, but
> Vujdaní was not interested in the posts which his influential relatives could
> give him. He was a seeker after Truth and longed to attain a state of
> spiritual satisfaction.
> One day, as he entered a mosque to offer his prayers, he saw a
> clergyman giving a lecture out in the courtyard of the mosque. He joined
> the small audience and listened to a fascinating discourse on detachment.
> The speaker made such an impression on Vujdaní that he followed him to
> his house after the lecture and begged the clergyman to accept him as a
> disciple. To his surprise, the clergyman told him that no individual should
> blindly follow another and that those priests who posed as guides for
> others to follow were nothing more than hypocrites. Every man, he said,
> should investigate truth for himself. This was a strange saying for a
> clergyman, but Vujdaní took it as a sign of the man’s humility.
> He continued to attend the clergyman’s lectures in the courtyard of the
> mosque every day and became more and more attracted to the man and his
> ideas. The views advanced in these daily lectures were quite different from
> the standard ideas of the clergy, and Vujdaní found much to occupy his
> thoughts when he left the mosque each day.
> But the lectures in the mosque came to an abrupt end and, when
> Vujdaní enquired about the reason, he was told that the clergyman had
> been forbidden to enter the mosque any more as he was found to be a Babí!
> Vujdaní was very sad. He had heard people talk of the dreadful Babís since
> he was a child and he hated them. “O God!” he prayed, “What have I done to
> deserve this? Why have I, after all my longing to attain Thy good pleasure,
> been attracted to an accursed infidel!”
> After that Vujdaní decided to study theology, hoping that this would
> lead him to some acceptable truth which would satisfy his searching mind
> and bring peace to his yearning heart. He shaved his head, put on a turban
> and retired to the secluded life of a
> 
> madrasih.* But he did not stay there very long. He found the atmosphere
> stifling and his associates narrow-minded and prejudiced. He left his
> studies of theology, completely disillusioned, but the spirit of search still
> drove him on.
> He now spent much time in prayer and meditation. He fasted and lived
> the life of a fakir, giving up all the pleasures of the flesh. One day, as he was
> passing through the market place on his way to the mosque, his eyes fell on
> an old dervish who sat in front of a small shop. Vujdaní had seen many
> dervishes in his days but none had attracted him like this man. He was
> spotlessly clean; his loose gown which came down to his ankles, his beard
> and long, combed-out hair that fell over his shoulders were immaculately
> kept. But there was something more about this dervish—some kind of
> spiritual force which could not be defined. Vujdaní felt this so strongly that
> he stood in front of the shop, unable to tear himself away, though not
> knowing how to start a conversation with the dervish. The shopkeeper
> enquired what he wanted, so he bought a couple of match boxes and moved
> on. After the prayers in the mosque he hurried back, but the dervish had
> gone.
> Vujdaní returned to his room and passed the night in prayer. The next
> morning, unable to put away the thought of the spiritual man he had seen,
> he set out to find him. He was sure that his meeting with this dervish was a
> direct answer to his prayers asking God for help in his search after Truth.
> This conviction was strengthened when he found the dervish and fell under
> the spell of his words. He then begged to be taught a verse which he could
> repeat in his meditations in order to attain the Truth. “My son,” said the
> dervish, “do not believe what is said about the power of dervishes. They
> have become as worldly and corrupt as other people.” Vujdaní, however,
> felt a strange respect for this man and would not leave him. He came to live
> close to the dervish and felt his life undergoing a gradual change as the
> days went by. The dervish, much to his surprise, encouraged him to
> forsake the life of seclusion, to wear ordinary clothes again and start
> earning a living and leading a normal life.
> Vujdaní’s relatives were happy to see the change in him. He was
> 
> *
> Theological college.
> offered a post by his cousin, the governor of Malayir, and went to live away
> from the dervish. But he still looked up to him as his spiritual guide and
> teacher, and considered himself a dervish at heart though he did not dress
> in the garb of that sect.
> Vujdaní continued with daily prayers and meditations as encouraged by
> his teacher, but the materialistic life around him began to weigh down his
> spirit once more and he longed for the companionship of kindred souls. It
> was about this time in his life that he was introduced to Ustad ‘Alí—a man
> of rare spiritual qualities—and became an intimate friend of his. The two
> spent much time together praying, studying and discussing mystical works
> and religious writings. Once, when they were talking about the lives of
> God’s Messengers on earth, Vujdaní said with great feeling: “How
> unfortunate we are that we do not live in the days of any of the Messengers
> and Prophets of God. We are deprived of the direct grace which flows
> through them and heals the spiritual ills of the soul.” Ustad ‘Alí could no
> more withhold the secret he had from his friend. “We are living at the
> dawn of a great Age,” he said. “This is the time foretold by all the
> Messengers of old. This is the Day they all longed to witness, for the
> Promised One has appeared in our lifetime!” Vujdaní’s reaction to this
> news was extraordinary. He prostrated himself to the ground in sheer
> gratitude and praise to the Almighty, and accepted the advent of the
> Promised One without the least hesitation. This, he felt, was what his eager
> soul had been reaching out for all these years. He was filled with such
> ecstasy that he could not control his emotions. He begged his friend to tell
> him where he could attain the presence of the Promised One as he wished
> to set out to visit Him without delay. Ustad ‘Alí tried to calm him, and
> explained that it would not be wise to start speaking to people about the
> subject. Vujdaní could not understand. “Why should this knowledge be
> withheld from people who are already waiting and praying for the advent
> of the Promised One?” he asked. Ustad ‘Alí assured him that he would come
> to know in time.
> Vujdaní was so exhilarated by the wonderful news he had heard that
> every one noticed the change that had come over him. He sang praises of
> God wherever he went, and paid no attention to those of his acquaintances
> who accused him of having reached this happy
> 
> state through forbidden liquor during Ramadan.
> The next time he met his friend, Ustad ‘Alí recounted to him the story of
> the young Herald who had come as a forerunner to the Promised One. He
> spoke of His saintly life, of the inner knowledge with which He was
> endowed and which had not been acquired from the schools of men, of His
> meekness and cruel martyrdom. Vujdaní listened with rapt attention. He
> grieved that he had remained unaware of these happenings and had been
> deprived of the privilege of beholding the face of the Prophet of God. Ustad
> ‘Alí consoled him saying that the Promised one Himself was still on earth.
> Having accepted the advent of the Promised Messenger of God,
> Vujdaní’s faith was now put to a severe test—a test which shook him to the
> core of his being. Several days had elapsed since his conversation with his
> friend, when he suddenly realized that Ustad ‘Alí was, in fact, a Babí! So
> great was this test that Vujdaní could not endure it. He forsook his friend
> and left that town altogether. “O God, my God!” he cried in his anguish, “I
> have sought Thee day and night. I have prayed that Thou might lead my
> steps and guide me to the right path, and yet I find myself thrown into the
> company of Babís once again. Why must Thou punish me in this way?”
> Vujdaní was out walking in the countryside with a group of friends one
> day, when he decided to renounce the world once more and set out to seek
> traces of the true Beloved, wherever his steps might lead him. Three of his
> friends said they would go with him, but the rigours of the journey proved
> too severe for them and, one by one, they left him to wander on alone.
> Vujdaní gave them his clothes and, dressed in the long gown of a dervish,
> he journeyed from village to village and town to town. But neither the
> turbanned mullas, nor the dishevelled dervishes he met on his way could
> help him in his search. He trained himself to subdue the ego and endure
> every form of humiliation. Carrying a begging bowl as he went along, he
> chanted prayers and recited verses from Hafiz* weeping at his separation
> from the true Beloved:
> Oh come! and touch mine eyes, of thy sweet grace,
> For I am blind to all but to thy face.
> 
> *
> The great Persian mystic poet.
> His sincerity touched peoples’ hearts as he moved among them. Many
> looked on him as a holy man and asked for his blessings. But he was not
> interested in fame or honour and did not stay long in one place. In time, he
> gave away even his dervish gown to one who needed it, and was left with
> an undergarment and a piece of skin which he threw over his shoulders
> when he travelled and used as a mat when he lay down to rest.
> After many days he found himself close to the town where his friend
> and master, the old dervish, lived. He was filled with a great longing to see
> his teacher once more and set his steps towards the town. He was hoping
> to arrive after dark, so that his many friends and relatives there would not
> recognize him, but the gates of the town were closed for the night when he
> reached them and he had to wait till the morning. He need not have been
> concerned about being recognized in town, for he was so changed since he
> left the place that a friend of his looked him straight in the face the next day
> and passed without the slightest trace of recognition.
> Only his old teacher knew him. Vujdaní’s eyes filled with tears as he
> looked on the dear face of the dervish once more. He recalled how often his
> teacher was wont to say: “A weary body and a broken heart is all we can
> offer at the threshold of the Beloved.” A weary body and a broken heart—
> this was all that Vujdaní now had to offer. Would he find peace at last?
> “Tell me, my son,” said the dervish, looking on him with his calm, serene
> eyes, “have you, in your many wanderings and travels, come across anyone
> who could guide you to the Truth you were seeking?” “Nowhere, dear
> Master,” answered Vujdaní, “did I find what I set out to seek, except among
> a group of people who are known as Babís!” There was a slight pause, then
> his teacher spoke: “You have reached the end of your journey,” he said, “for
> I take God as my witness that the Promised One has indeed appeared. All
> the Messengers of God and His Prophets, all the saints and sages of bygone
> days have sung the praises of this Day. Blessed are we who have lived to
> see it!”
> This meeting with the dervish dispelled all the doubts Vujdaní had
> about the Babís and their religion. As he sat listening to his old teacher’s
> discourse, he learned much about the new Faith. The veil was lifted from
> his eyes and he began to see and understand.
> 
> “How strange,” he thought, “how very strange are God’s ways. I have
> been running away from the Truth, but God, in His mercy, has offered it to
> me again and again!” His heart was now filled with a peace he had longed
> to attain: his many trials and sufferings were forgotten.
> 
> Vujdání and the Mullá
> Vujdaní peeped into the tent and quickly drew away. “This is no place
> for me,” he decided, “even if I find no other shelter for the night.” The tent
> was full of mullas and clergymen of every description. Their white, green
> and blue turbans of various sizes denoted their backgrounds and positions.
> At the head of the gathering sat the most distinguished of them all, with his
> huge turban set beside him on the floor.
> Vujdaní had seen the tent from afar and thought perhaps a group of
> dervishes were gathered there for their chants, but he was in no way
> prepared to confront a crowd of clergymen—the sworn enemies of his
> Faith. It was far too risky.
> But the owner of the tent—none other than the imposing mulla
> occupying the seat of honour—had seen him and called out for him to
> enter. “Please join us,” he said. “I can see you are a stranger in these parts
> and we should be honoured if you would grace our gathering with your
> presence.” The invitation was too gracious to be refused and Vujdaní
> reluctantly entered the tent.
> As the evening advanced, he found himself much affected by the
> kindness of his host. One or two of the other priests clearly showed that
> they resented his presence in their midst, but the host did everything in his
> power to make him feel welcomed.
> Later on Vujdaní learned that his friend, the mulla, had a son who was
> causing him great concern. “He is behaving in a very peculiar way,”
> explained the mulla, “and no one knows what is the matter with him. In the
> beginning he used to disappear into the wilderness a few days each month;
> now he sits at home all the time but will not talk to anyone. He does not
> even answer when his own little child speaks to him. I am beginning to
> wonder,” added the mulla, “whether he has reached a state of spiritual
> enlightenment
> 
> which makes him despise the things of this world.” Vujdaní was touched by
> the father’s concern but could tell by the symptoms described to him that
> the young man was far from any spiritual attainment. “The love of God
> which is the source of our spiritual life,” he told the mulla, “brings joy to the
> heart and creates love towards our fellow-men. It does not make us despise
> His creation.”
> The mulla took Vujdaní to his house to see his son. The young man, who
> was in bed when they entered his room, immediately turned his back on
> them and pulled the bedclothes over his head. His father entreated him to
> speak to them. “This gentleman who has come to see you,” the mulla told
> his son, “is a wise man who has travelled far and gained much experience.
> Tell him your trouble, I beseech you, for he may be able to offer help.” But
> the young man buried himself deeper in his quilt and would have nothing
> to do with them. Vujdaní shook his head. “If your son were a seeker after
> spiritual matters, and a lover in search of the true Beloved,” he said to the
> mulla, “he would not be running away from everyone, for the seeker
> ‘abideth in every land and dwelleth in every region. In every face, he
> seeketh the beauty of the Friend; in every country he looketh for the
> Beloved. He joineth every company, and seeketh fellowship with every
> soul, that haply in some mind he may uncover the secret of the Friend, or in
> some face he may behold the beauty of the Loved One.’”
> The words which Vujdaní quoted were from The Seven Valleys of
> Baha’u’llah. They made such an impression on the mulla that he forgot his
> son and, turning to Vujdaní, entreated him saying: “Will you not guide me
> to the spiritual heights you, yourself, have attained? I can see that I have a
> great deal to learn from you.” Vujdaní had no wish to tell him about the
> Baha’í Faith. “There is nothing for me to teach you,” he said, “for I, too, am
> but a humble seeker.” The mulla pleaded once more, but Vujdaní was
> determined not to be drawn into a conversation on the subject. He had had
> enough experiences with the Muslim clergy before.
> They sat down to sip the tea which had been brought in, and the mulla,
> sad at heart, picked up a book and recited one of the beautiful prayers of
> Imam ‘Alí. Vujdaní, too, affected by the mood of his host, closed his eyes
> and chanted from the prayers of Baha’u’llah:
> 
> O Thou in separation from Whom hearts and souls have melted, and by
> the fire of Whose love the whole world hath been set aflame! I implore
> Thee by Thy Name through which Thou hast subdued the whole
> creation, not to withhold from me that which is with Thee, O Thou
> Who rulest over all men! Thou seest, O my Lord, this stranger
> hastening to his most exalted home beneath the canopy of Thy majesty
> and within the precincts of Thy mercy; and this transgressor seeking
> the ocean of Thy forgiveness; and this lowly one the court of Thy glory;
> and this poor creature the orient of Thy wealth. Thine is the authority
> to command whatsoever Thou wiliest. I bear witness that Thou art to
> be praised in Thy doings, and to be obeyed in Thy behests, and to
> remain unconstrained in Thy bidding.*
> When he stopped, the mulla begged him to go on and listened with tears
> in his eyes as Vujdaní chanted the following:
> O Thou the Desire of the world and the Beloved of the nations! Thou
> seest me turning toward Thee, and rid of all attachment to any one
> save Thee, and clinging to Thy cord, through whose movement the
> whole creation hath been stirred up. I am Thy servant, O my Lord, and
> the son of Thy servant. Behold me standing ready to do Thy will and
> Thy desire, and wishing naught else except Thy good pleasure. I
> implore Thee by the Ocean of Thy mercy and the Daystar of Thy grace
> to do with Thy servant as Thou willest and pleasest. By Thy might
> which is far above all mention and praise! Whatsoever is revealed by
> Thee is the desire of my heart and the beloved of my soul. †
> The mulla slowly repeated the last sentence to himself; then he said:
> “These prayers are not the words of our holy Imams, and yet, they are
> empowered with such potency that I know they are not the words of an
> ordinary man. Who is the Author?” Vujdaní pretended not to know. “I was
> taught these prayers,” he said, “by my teacher, an old dervish, who told me
> to repeat them often, as they are a means of purifying the soul.”
> 
> *
> The Kitáb-i-Aqdas, pp. 93–4.
> †
> ibid., pp. 92–3.
> The mulla rose up and said: “Let us go back to the tent.” On the way, as
> they turned a bend in the road, they could see the golden dome of one of
> the most sacred shrines of Islam. Here the mulla stopped and, taking
> Vujdaní by the hand, he said: “I swear by this sacred shrine that for more
> than a month I have been earnestly praying for divine guidance. Day after
> day, I have entreated God for help, and I have no doubt that He, in His
> mercy, has sent you to me. I entreat you not to deprive me of whatever you
> possess.”
> Vujdaní could no more deny the mulla what he so sincerely begged
> for—nor could he have found a more attentive ear.
> 
> The road to Hamadán
> Hamadan is one of the coldest regions of Persia. The roads to the town
> were often snowbound for months during the wintertime, and people who
> travelled alone ran the added risk of meeting with hungry wolves on the
> way. Notwithstanding these dangers, Vujdaní set out to reach Hamadan on
> horseback one winter.
> It was getting dark, and Vujdaní was hurrying to reach a village where
> he could spend the night, when two horsemen caught up with him and
> robbed him of all he had, leaving him to struggle along barefooted in the
> snow. He reached the village with great difficulty and was given shelter for
> the night; but he had to leave the next day in the bitter cold, without shoes
> or proper clothing. He was half dead when he came across a small mud hut.
> A woman lived there with her son, but Vujdaní was so frozen with cold that
> he entered without permission and crept under their kursí. * The woman
> looked on with great concern, never doubting that he was insane, for no
> one in his right mind would come out almost naked in that cold. As soon as
> Vujdaní could speak, he explained to her what had happened. “I know the
> thieves who took your things,” the woman told him, but she was not eager
> to give their names. After much persuasion, however, she told him the
> name of one of the thieves and gave him directions about getting to the
> village
> 
> *
> A low, square wooden table over which a large quilt is spread. Under the kursí is placed a
> brazier of charcoal fire covered with ashes. People sit on mattresses round the kursí and
> lean against cushions, their legs stretched under the kursí and covered with the quilt.
> where the man lived.
> Vujdaní was determined to find the thief, so he set out once more in the
> snow and did not stop till he had reached the village. There he went
> straight to the village headman, explained about the robbery, and gave the
> name of the thief. The headman ordered a number of horses to be brought
> out from the stable so that he could see whether Vujdaní would recognize
> the robber’s horse. Vujdaní identified it without difficultly, but the thief
> would not admit having taken anything from the stranger, so the matter
> was referred to the village priest. Now the priest was not going to let down
> a neighbour and shower his favours on a stranger who had just arrived
> half-naked from nowhere, so after receiving a bribe from the thief in front
> of Vujdaní’s own eyes, he asked the man to take an oath saying that he was
> not guilty of the theft. But the robber was not prepared to take such an
> oath, which made matters a little complicated. A solution was finally
> suggested by the helpful priest. The robber, he said, could give Vujdaní a
> donkey and an old rifle instead of his horse and clothing! Vujdaní realized
> there was nothing he could do and wisely took whatever was given him.
> The donkey turned out to be blind in one eye and so old and feeble that
> no one could ride it. Vujdaní swung the rifle on his shoulder and plodded
> along behind the donkey to the next village where he put up the beast for
> sale. He was so eager to get rid of it that he sold it to the very first
> customer who came along. Much to his disappointment, the man returned
> the donkey in a few minutes and took his money back. Another man came
> forward and offered less than half what the first customer had given, but
> Vujdaní did not refuse him. He took the money—a large handful of copper
> coins—tied it in his garment with a piece of string, and set out from the
> village. He had never missed his pocket so much, for the heavy lump of
> coins knocking against his legs as he walked did not make the journey any
> easier for him.
> He arrived at the next stop tired and chilled to the bone, but he was
> delighted to find someone who would let him spend the night under a little
> kursí for the price of one copper coin. Unfortunately, his happiness was
> short-lived for he soon realized he was not the only paying guest. One by
> one the others came, paid their coin and crowded round the kursí till there
> was no space to move. Vujdaní stayed in that stuffy atmosphere till he
> could endure it no longer. He then got up and prepared to leave, but once
> outside, he saw that it would be impossible
> 
> to start on his journey till daybreak. He was wondering what he could do
> and where he could spend the rest of the night, when a feeble light through
> the cracks of a door caught his attention. It was a place by the wayside and
> he decided to knock and see if they would let him in.
> As it turned out the place was a small inn. Two men sat gambling in one
> corner, and a third man was smoking his opium a little farther away. The
> innkeeper was eager to oblige. He made some fresh tea for Vujdaní, and
> brought the red-hot charcoal brazier close for him to warm his hands.
> After the three other customers had left, the innkeeper brought out his
> book of Hafiz and attempted to read parts of it for Vujdaní, but Vujdaní,
> who loved the poems of Hafiz, could not bear to hear them read so crudely.
> He managed to take over the reading himself, and charmed the innkeeper
> with his beautiful recitation. The innkeeper’s helper now joined them and
> he too sat enraptured at the feet of the visitor.
> Vujdaní, in the meantime, had drifted into a world of his own. The
> mystical poems of Hafiz, mingled with his own thoughts, helped to make
> him forget the innkeepers altogether. After a while, he put down the poems
> and started to chant some of the prayers of Baha’u’llah, completely
> unaware of the impression they had on the two men who heard them for
> the first time.
> When at last he came to himself, Vujdaní found the innkeepers eager to
> know about his beliefs. He sat talking to them for the rest of the night,
> explaining the message of the new Cause. By dawn, both men were
> confirmed Baha’ís!
> Vujdaní stayed with his new friends for one more day, after which he
> walked to the next village where there were a number of Baha ’ís. His
> fellow-believers gave him a warm welcome. They clothed him and made
> him rest for a few days before they would let him travel on to Hamadan.
> 
> The essence of dates
> There was a large gathering of noblemen, religious dignitaries, scholars
> and men of letters in the presence of the Crown Prince in Tabríz. The
> prince took pleasure in meeting these people from time
> 
> to time and listening to their discourses and debates. A variety of subjects
> were discussed, and some of the poets recited pieces of poetry they had
> composed. Varqa, whose poetry was much admired by the prince, was
> always a welcome guest while he was living in Tabríz. The prince would
> often request him to recite some of his latest compositions, and shower his
> praises and favours on him. But Varqa always kept his peace when there
> were discussions taking place in these gatherings, knowing the dangers in
> which they might involve him.
> This time, however, the priests had started abusing the Baha’ís in such a
> childish and unreasonable way that Varqa thought it wise to put in a few
> words. “The Baha’í teachers,” they were saying, “used to, at one time, feed
> their unsuspecting guests with a certain kind of date which made them into
> Baha’ís. Now that people have found out about this trick, the Baha ’ís
> extract the essence of dates which their teachers then make into pills to be
> used on those whom they want to make Baha’ís. They have a cunning way
> of doing this,” the priests went on. “First, the teacher seats himself in such
> a position as to face all those who are gathered in a room, then he charms
> his hearers with a most fascinating speech so that everybody’s mouth is
> opened wide with admiration. When this stage is reached, the Baha’í
> teacher cleverly shoots out a pill from between his fingers into the mouth
> of each of his audience who, having swallowed it, cannot help becoming a
> Baha’í.”
> It is difficult to tell what effect this kind of talk had on the prince’s
> guests. Many of them, we know, were far too intelligent to believe such
> nonsense, but one thing is quite clear: few people, no matter what their
> position might have been in Persia at that time, would have dared to
> displease the priests who ruled supreme, their authority unchallenged.
> Even the Crown Prince had no desire to arouse their anger.
> Varqa, alone, was determined to point out the shallowness of these
> enemies of his Faith. In the silence which followed the unique piece of
> information provided by the eminent priests, he asked permission of the
> Crown Prince to say a few words. Having been granted the permission, he
> told the gathering that he was surprised to hear anyone speak about the
> essence of dates, for he could assure them that, although he himself had
> knowledge of chemistry and
> 
> medicine, he had never heard of such a thing before. “Even if such an
> essence did exist and was available in pill form,” he said, “is it not strange
> that these Baha’í teachers we have been warned against, never make a
> mistake in hitting their target? Or are we to assume that they have each
> had years of training in marksmanship? And what are we to think of the
> open-mouthed audience? How can they all be so ill-mannered—no matter
> how interesting the talk—as to sit with mouths wide open all round the
> room, and yet see nothing strange in it? And we are to believe that they
> actually swallow the pills thrown into their mouths without being aware of
> it!”
> If the priests had anything more to add on the subject, they must have
> felt it was not the right time and place to do so.
> 
> The dumb prisoner
> “A Babí was brought in chains from Yazd today!” whispered one man to
> another in Isfahan, and the rumour soon began to spread. The Baha’ís, who
> were always eager for news of their fellow-believers, were among the first
> to hear the rumour. They immediately tried to find out more about the new
> arrival, but no one could give them the slightest information about their
> fellow-believer’s identity. They did not know who he was, or to which part
> of the prison he had been taken.
> In the end, Sína, who had himself been released from the prison of
> Isfahan only two days before, offered to go and find out from the jailer who
> had become his friend.
> Slowly and carefully he picked his way back through the narrow lanes
> to the dismal prison. It was here that he and his brother, Nayyir, had spent
> those long, never-ending days of suspense which ran into weeks and
> months, living under the death sentence of the dreaded mujtahids of
> Isfahan, not daring to hope that they would ever look upon the world
> outside again or hear the laughter of their little children.
> Those who passed Sína on the way must have been impressed by his
> radiant, kindly face, and the neat green turban and sash which were the
> signs of his holy lineage. If any had recognized him as the Baha’í who had
> just been released from prison, they could
> 
> never have believed he was on his way to visit his jailer now.
> The jailer was prepared to help Sína . “I can take you to the Babí you
> want to see,” he said, “but let me tell you that it is no use trying to talk to
> him. The man is deaf and dumb.” “Deaf and dumb!” thought Sína as he
> followed the jailer, “I wonder who he can be.”
> They passed into the dirtiest section of the prison which was reserved
> for the worst types of criminals. Here, in a cell packed with people, Sína
> caught sight of Varqa in chains and stocks. The two poets were old friends
> and, of course, had much to tell each other. The astonished jailer and
> prisoners standing around could not believe their eyes! They stared with
> wonder at this holy Siyyid who had graced their cell with his presence and
> worked a miracle in front of their very eyes. “The dumb man speaks!” they
> said to each other excitedly. “The Siyyid has given him the power of speech
> and hearing!”
> No one, however, was as puzzled as Sína who was supposed to have
> performed the miracle. “You see,” Varqa told him by way of explanation,
> “they spoke to me in such insulting language on the way from Yazd that I
> pretended not to hear them. It was quite convenient to be deaf and dumb
> before you arrived!”
> 
> Varqá’s poem
> Varqa was on a teaching trip in Yazd when he was arrested by the
> orders of the governor, Jalalu’d-Dawlih, kept in prison for one year, and
> then sent in chains and stocks to the prison in Isfahan. Here he made
> friends with a nobleman who admired good poetry, and who kept in touch
> with the literary circle which met in the city.
> One day, Varqa’s friend received the copy of some poems composed by
> various poets at one of their gatherings. This he showed to Varqa, who was
> moved to add some beautiful verses of his own to those of the other poets.
> The poem which Varqa wrote in the prison of Isfahan had far-reaching
> effects. His friend was so affected by it that he asked about Varqa ’s
> religious beliefs and eventually became a Baha ’í. It also worked the
> following miracle:
> The cruel Jalalu’d-Dawlih came to visit the prison in Isfahan. He
> 
> knew both Varqa and his friend the nobleman, so he walked towards them
> with a sneer on his face. Looking at Varqa’s feet in stocks, he mockingly
> remarked: “If you are a prophet, why don’t you work a miracle and let the
> stocks fall off your feet?” “I have neither claimed to be a prophet,” replied
> Varqa, “nor boasted of performing miracles.”
> Jalalu’d-Dawlih moved on to the nobleman and took a paper from his
> hand. It was a page of beautiful poetry, and he started to read it. He was
> greatly impressed, especially with the one Varqa had written. “I did not
> realize what a great poet we have here,” he remarked.
> Before he left the prison, Jalalu’d-Dawlih ordered Varqa’s feet to be
> removed from the stocks.
> 
> The prisoners in Zanján
> It was Ramadan, the month of the fast, and people sat up late into the
> night. In the smaller towns and villages of Persia, where life was
> monotonous and nothing of great interest took place from year to year,
> there was not much to occupy the long nights of Ramadan except making
> the usual round of visits and reading the Qur’an.
> The town of Zanjan, being one such place, was pleasantly surprised to
> hear one day that a few Baha ’ís had been caught, chained and placed in a
> cell for people to go and see behind the prison bars. The response from the
> population was overwhelming. They came in dozens, wondering what
> Baha’ís really looked like, and went away greatly disappointed to see that
> they were ordinary human beings.
> Among the visitors to the prison was a Muslim priest whose brother,
> Mírza Husayn, had been arrested with other Baha’ís of Zanjan. The priest
> had often told his brother that he would come to no good if he did not give
> up his allegiance to the new Cause. Now he came to see if this
> imprisonment had brought his brother to his senses and prepared him to
> recant his Faith. Much to his surprise, he found Mírza Husayn steadfast in
> his beliefs and ready to defend the Baha’í Cause no matter what the
> consequences. When neither his exhortations nor his many threats
> produced any result,
> 
> the priest left the prison in a rage, using the foulest language.
> One of the other Baha ’ís had a visit from a few of his Muslim soldier
> friends. These, unlike the priest, had come to console their friend in prison.
> “We do not care what your religion is,” they said to him. “You are a friend
> of ours, and we have come to tell you that if anyone decides to kill you, he
> will have to deal with us first.”
> Most of the clergy and members of the upper classes came late in the
> evenings when they would sit in a large hall in the presence of the
> governor, ‘Ala’i’d-Dawlih, and talk to three of the prisoners who were
> brought to the gathering in chains—Varqa, his twelve-year-old son
> Ruhu’llah and Mírza Husayn. They came in large numbers, and when a few
> left, there were always others to take their seats. Night after night they
> assembled, hurling curses, insults and accusations at the Baha ’ís.
> Sometimes a question would be asked, directed at Varqa who was known
> among them for his learning, but he was seldom permitted to answer
> without being interrupted by the clergy, for they were aware of the
> influence he could exert on his audience. At times, Varqa would turn to his
> son, Ruhu’llah, and ask him to answer on his behalf. Ruhu’llah charmed his
> hearers. The governor was so amazed and impressed at the child’s
> extraordinary eloquence, that he openly expressed his admiration. “This
> child’s strange power of argument is a miracle in itself,” he said.
> However much the clergy resented it, the prisoners, if given the chance
> to speak, put to shame those who tried to belittle their Faith. Once an
> arrogant priest said: “If you consider Baha’u’llah’s sayings as a proof of
> prophethood, I too can bring words as beautiful as his.” “At the time of
> Muhammad too,” replied Varqa, “there were those who made the same
> claim. Neither were they, nor are you, able to accomplish such a task. But
> even if you were capable of producing the beautiful sayings you boast of,
> whose would you claim them to be?” “I would say they were my own
> words, of course,” said the priest. “Here lies the difference,” said Varqa;
> “Baha’u’llah claims that He has nothing to say of His own. All His sayings
> He claims to be of God. Not only does He make such a stupendous claim,
> but thousands of people from the different religious backgrounds of the
> world have accepted His words as the words of God, and hundreds upon
> hundreds of great scholars,
> 
> men of letters and religious dignitaries have laid down their lives as a proof
> to the power of these words. Now tell me, can you too, after having
> produced your wonderful works, claim that a single person will go so far as
> to say you are the greatest clergyman alive?”
> At another time the governor turned to Mírza Husayn and said: “You
> claim that you have accepted the Baha’í Faith after long investigation, but
> tell me how it is that you went to the Baha ’ís for your investigations. Were
> there not enough learned Muslims for you to enquire from?” “If a person
> wishes to find out about Islam,” said Mírza Husayn, “would you advise him
> to go to a Christian clergyman?” The priests were furious with Mírza
> Husayn’s answer. They rushed on him and gave him a sound beating. One
> of the noblemen present drew out his sword to kill Mírza Husayn, but the
> governor said: “This man must not be killed all at once. Leave him to me. I
> shall have a limb cut off his body each day, and kill him at the end of a
> week.”
> Mírza Husayn, who came from a notable family of clergymen himself,
> wore a turban at that time. The priests pulled off his headgear angrily,
> saying that he had disgraced the turban by becoming a Baha’í. They
> ordered the guards to put an old, dirty hat on his head and pull it over his
> eyebrows to make him look ridiculous, so that they could make fun of him
> during the rest of the evening.
> As the gatherings in the presence of the governor of Zanjan went on
> night after night, the clergy began to monopolize the conversation so that
> the Baha’ís would not be given a chance to talk. If a question was asked, a
> few of them would raise such a commotion as to make it impossible for the
> prisoners to reply. Often a question would lead to a heated argument
> among the clergy themselves, and this sometimes brought them close to
> blows. The Baha’ís did not look forward to this stage because there was
> always the danger that, once they had got into a fighting mood, the clergy
> might band together and attack the Baha ’ís, blaming them for everything.
> One night ‘Ala’i’d-Dawlih was very annoyed with the continuous rows
> the clergy were having among themselves. “You have come here to find out
> what Varqa has to say,” he reminded them. “If you have questions to put to
> him, you can ask them one by one, so that
> 
> he can answer you.” But the governor was no match for the clergy who
> were determined to denounce Varqa as an infidel no matter what he
> believed.
> The impression Varqa and Ruhu’llah had made on the governor himself,
> however, was so great that one night he said in all sincerity, and in the
> presence of a number of people: “Varqa, I swear by the crown of His
> Majesty and the soul of Amír Nizam that if you stop propagating this Faith, I
> will obtain for you a proper title from the Shah, pay you a handsome salary
> and make you my personal physician,* so that you may wish for nothing
> more in life.” Great though his desire to help his prisoner, ‘Ala’i’d-Dawlih
> had, alas, no understanding of the heights of detachment Varqa had
> climbed in his love for his Beloved. “Do you really think,” Varqa told him,
> “that I would renounce the Messenger of God for the titles and riches this
> world can offer?” “But you can dedicate your life to God’s Cause and serve
> Islam,” said ‘Ala’i’d-Dawlih. “This is what I am doing now,” explained
> Varqa. “God’s eternal Faith is one. What I believe in is what all the
> Messengers of God have taught. It is They Who have told us in the holy
> Books to watch for the advent of the Promised One. If I, as a believer in God
> and His holy Books, have come to recognize the Promised One we have
> been waiting for, can I forsake Him and turn my back on Him for the sake of
> material benefits?” “Denounce this Faith in front of others, at least,” begged
> the governor, “even if you believe in it at heart.” “It would be impossible
> for me to live the life of such a hypocrite,” replied Varqa. “Alas!” sighed
> ‘Ala’i’d-Dawlih. “You leave me no choice. I must send you and your son to
> the capital to be dealt with by others there, but Mírza Husayn will be blown
> from the mouth of a cannon here in Zanjan tomorrow.”
> Varqa remained silent at the time, but he found an opportunity to have a
> few words with the governor alone later on. “Do not stain your hands with
> the blood of the Baha’ís,” he begged ‘Ala’i’d-Dawlih. “Send Mírza Husayn
> with us to the capital and let him, too, be dealt with by others who are
> already steeped in blood.” ‘Ala’i’d-Dawlih listened to this request and
> ordered that
> 
> *
> Varqa had profound knowledge of medicine.
> all three prisoners be sent in chains to the capital the next day.
> 
> The children
> Tayyibih was five years old when she and her younger brother, Jamal,
> were taken to see their father, Mírza Husayn, in prison one day. It was all
> so strange to them. Why did their father have chains round his neck? Why
> was he kept in such a dirty place, and why was everybody around him so
> rude?
> Tayyibih had heard older people say that her father would be sent to
> Tihran, and this worried her more than anything else. “Is it true that they
> will send you to Tihran?” she asked him. “Yes,” Mírza Husayn cheerfully
> replied. “I am going to bring you a pretty dress from Tihran to wear on
> Naw-Ruz!”* But Tayyibih would not be consoled. Her eyes filled with tears
> as she threw her arms round her father’s neck. “Please don’t go away,
> father,” she begged. “I don’t want a pretty dress.” She looked into his eyes
> with such sweet sadness that her father’s heart was filled with anguish. He
> realized that parting with his children was the severest test he had to
> encounter, and prayed that God might give him the strength to remain
> steadfast to the end. “You must go now,” he told Tayyibih and Jamal.
> Taking a few copper coins from his pocket, he held them out to his
> daughter, saying: “Take these and buy some sweets on the way home.” But
> Tayyibih shook her little head. “Keep the money, father,” she said. “You
> may need to buy something for yourself on the way to Tihran.” That was
> the last time Tayyibih and Jamal saw their father before he was taken away
> from Zanjan.
> While Mírza Husayn suffered innumerable hardships in the prison of
> Tihran, his children also had their full share of suffering to endure. One
> day, a regiment of soldiers and artillerymen surrounded their house in
> Zanjan. Tayyibih and Jamal clung to their mother, wondering if she, too,
> would now be taken away from them. The soldiers had come by orders of
> the governor and religious dignitaries of the town, and demanded that
> every body in the house should come outside. The family of Mírza Husayn
> 
> *
> New Year’s Day.
> were not alone. They had given refuge in their house to a few homeless
> Baha’í ladies, and now they all came out together, prepared for the worst.
> But the soldiers did not seem intent on killing that day. They had come to
> carry away all of Mírza Husayn’s valuable belongings, and then raze his
> house to the ground.
> The women and children looked on as the soldiers carried away
> everything they had—not only the rich carpets, silverware, crystals and
> other objects of value, but even the least significant articles, including the
> dough which was kneaded for making bread.
> After the looting was over, the soldiers set about demolishing the large
> house. Doors, windows and walls—all came down amid the continuous
> loud swearing and cursing. The Baha’í women and children were forced to
> go round begging the neighbours for pickaxes and other tools needed for
> the destruction of the house. By the time the soldiers had finished their
> task, there was not a single wall left standing where the house had been.
> Even the garden walls and the fruit trees in the orchard were savagely torn
> down as an act of merit by those who hoped for the rewards of paradise
> after having punished the infidels on earth.
> Tayyibih and Jamal were now left with the ladies amid the ruins of their
> house, with neither food nor means of keeping warm during the cold night.
> They kept close to their mother, getting a little warmth from her body, and
> trembled at the sound of every footstep. No friends or relatives dared to
> come near them, and many who had professed friendship before, now
> became avowed enemies.
> As the night grew colder the ladies decided to take shelter in a sacred
> shrine not far away, but the caretakers recognized them and would not let
> them enter. On the way back Tayyibih and Jamal were secretly left with a
> Baha’í, while the ladies themselves went to a Muslim friend and begged for
> shelter for the night. Their friend consented to take them in if they would
> leave her house before daylight.
> After that, the ladies sat in the ruins of the house during the day, and
> went to the home of their Muslim friend when it was completely dark and
> there was little risk of being recognized on the streets. All day long, the
> people of Zanjan gathered around to scorn and jeer at the Baha’í women
> living among the ruins. “If your life in this world is no better than this,” said
> one of the onlookers
> 
> mockingly, “what will your lot be like in the world to come?” “We are not
> the first women to suffer in the Cause of God,” one of the Baha’ís replied.
> “There have been women treated like us in every Dispensation. Our lot in
> the next world will probably be like theirs.”
> During those days of severe tribulations when their menfolk were
> imprisoned and their homes plundered, when friends disowned them and
> enemies did everything they could to add to their suffering, these women
> showed such courage and steadfastness as to amaze everyone who saw or
> heard of them.
> Tayyibih and Jamal’s uncle, who was a Muslim clergyman, took the
> children to his own home after a few days. He took care of them and
> bought them new clothes, but Tayyibih could tell by the way he spoke to
> the people around him that he was ashamed of her father. “He has
> disgraced us,” he kept on repeating. “I can no more lift up my head in
> public. Oh, that he had been guilty of theft, adultery, or even murder! But
> the disgrace of having a Babí brother is more than I can bear.”
> He also spoke of calling in a priest to “put the testament into the
> children’s mouths”. By this he meant that Tayyibih and Jamal would be
> asked to repeat in front of witnesses: “I testify that there is no god but God.
> I testify that Muhammad is the Messenger of God,” thereby assuring
> everyone that they were true Muslims. But Tayyibih, whose knowledge of
> religious matters was limited, thought that he was planning some terrible
> torture for her and Jamal. Her uncle’s house, with all the comfort it
> provided, became a prison to the little girl. She thought of her dear father
> with the chains round his neck, taken to the big city so far away; and she
> thought of her mother sitting among the ruins of their beautiful home, with
> none of her friends or relatives coming to see her any more.
> One day she heard her uncle say again: “We must arrange to put the
> testament into these children’s mouths as soon as possible. It cannot be
> put off any longer. I shall have to inform a few of the clergy to witness it.”
> Tayyibih was terribly frightened. She clasped her little brother to herself,
> wondering how she could save him. There was no one she could turn to for
> sympathy. Everybody in the house seemed to be on her uncle’s side.
> Suddenly she had an idea. “Jamal,” she said to her brother, “if I tell you
> something, you won’t say it to anyone, will you?” “No, I won’t,” the little
> boy
> 
> promised. She looked around to make sure no one else was listening, then
> whispered in his ear: “They are going to bring someone to put the
> testament into our mouths!” “What is the testament?” Jamal asked
> innocently. “It is something awful … horrible …” she said, not knowing how
> to explain. “It is like a piece of fire they put in your mouth. They burn your
> tongue with it!” Jamal looked into his sister’s eyes with sheer horror. But
> he was also puzzled. “Why are they going to do it?” he asked. “What have
> we done?” “We are Baha’ís,” Tayyibih explained simply, “and they don’t like
> us.” Whatever this meant to the little boy, he had seen enough in his short
> life to know that danger was never very far away. He clung to Tayyibih as
> his only refuge. “What will we do?” he asked. “We are going to run away!”
> his sister answered. “But you must not tell anyone. Promise you will not
> tell anyone, or they will chain us like father.” Jamal promised.
> Running away from their uncle’s house was easier said than done.
> There were always people about—neighbours dropping in to visit the lady
> of the house, servants coming and going in the yard. Tayyibih kept careful
> watch and when the right moment came, she caught hold of her brother’s
> hand and crept to the front door. Slowly she opened it and peeped outside.
> There was no one she knew in the street. “Run, Jamal” she whispered, and
> the two ran as fast as their little legs could take them.
> As the cold night wind swept over the ruins of their house, Tayyibih and
> Jamal pressed closer to their mother. She had already explained to them
> what was meant by “putting the testament into their mouths” and they
> knew that they would not be tortured if they went back to the comfort of
> their uncle’s house, but they were glad they had come back to their mother,
> even though she had nothing to give them now—except her love.
> 
> The child-martyr
> Ruhu’llah, the child-martyr of the Baha’í Faith, was a prodigy. At the age
> of twelve, his knowledge of the holy Scriptures, his powerful arguments in
> defence of his beloved Faith in the presence of the dreaded religious
> authorities of Persia, the beautiful poetry
> 
> he wrote and his sweet, saintly nature won him admirers everywhere he
> went. Many of the noted enemies of the new Faith were charmed by his
> eloquence, while others came to look upon him as a living miracle.
> At the time when Ruhu’llah, his father and Mírza Husayn had been
> arrested because of their beliefs and were being taken to Tihran in chains,
> the soldiers in charge were so attracted by the charm of this child of twelve
> that they wished to take the heavy chains from round his neck, but he
> would not have it so. “I am quite happy with these chains,” he assured
> them, “besides, you must be faithful to your trust. You were given orders to
> take us to Tihran in chains, and it is your duty to obey those orders.” He
> was never heard to complain of the discomforts of that long and arduous
> journey, but seemed to derive great happiness from the many odes and
> prayers he chanted to himself as they rode along.
> In one of the villages where they stopped on their way, the priests and
> notables ordered the Baha ’ís to be brought before them, especially as they
> had heard that the famous Varqa was among the prisoners. Varqa, the
> father of Ruhu’llah, was well-known throughout the country as a man of
> outstanding literary merits and a fearless champion of the new Faith. He
> spent much time in prayer and meditation, and longed to lay down his life
> as a sacrifice for the Cause of God.
> The priests started to question the prisoners, but soon found they were
> no match for either Varqa or his twelve-year-old son, Ruhu’llah, who
> astonished everyone with the courage he showed in the presence of the
> religious divines. Unable to belittle the Baha ’í prisoners with arguments,
> the priests tried to stir up mischief and get them killed. “When will this
> land be purged of these infidels?” they wailed. “When will the Faith of
> Islam be rid of its enemies?” Although there was a row of armed soldiers
> standing as though ready for orders to shoot, and the prisoners had already
> prepared themselves to die, nothing happened. The priests grew more
> emphatic. “What are you waiting for?” they shouted. “Are you going to
> tolerate these Babís* among you?” The armed soldiers and guards,
> however, were determined to take the prisoners to the
> 
> *
> See footnote on page 7.
> capital alive, so no one paid much attention to the village priests.
> While this was going on, the son-in-law of one of the officers came to
> have a look at the prisoners. He was standing near the Baha’ís when the
> officer and his friends decided to play a joke on him. They told two of the
> guards to pretend they thought this man had become a Babí too. The
> guards took up a chain and approached the young man with rough and
> abusive language: “So now you have become a Babí too, have you, you son
> of a …! Well, we’ll show you what we do with Babís!” The poor man was so
> frightened that he lost his power of speech. He gave out a terrified cry and
> fell down in a faint. Some people thought he had died of fright but he
> opened his eyes after receiving much attention, though it was some time
> before he could speak. “What happened to you?” they asked him. “Why
> were you so afraid? We were only playing a joke on you.” “A joke!” he
> exclaimed. “I nearly died of fright.” “Look at this child,” someone said,
> pointing at Ruhu’llah. “He is not afraid.” “No,” confessed the man, looking
> at Ruhu’llah with new eyes, “but then, he is a Babí!”
> The priests, in the meantime, having lost hope of getting the prisoners
> killed in their village, could do no more than wreak their vengeance on the
> child-prisoner. They had noticed that his feet were not in stocks as those of
> the other two, so they called the village carpenter and ordered him to
> prepare a pair of stocks for Ruhu’llah, thereby adding considerably to his
> suffering as he rode on horseback in the bitter cold and snow from Zanjan
> to Tihran. Ruhu’llah did not complain. Nor could this incident dampen his
> radiant spirit or discourage him from teaching the Cause to the soldiers
> who were with them. As the difficult journey came to its close, a few of
> these soldiers had secretly embraced the Faith of their prisoners.
> In the prison of Tihran, the Baha’ís were treated with extreme cruelty.
> There were four of them there, all chained together with a chain put round
> their necks which was so heavy that it was difficult for the men to keep
> their heads up. Ruhu’llah collapsed under its weight and two supports had
> to be put under the chain on each side of him to keep him in a sitting
> position.
> There were about sixty other prisoners in that place—murderers and
> thieves of every description—but none were treated as cruelly
> 
> as the Baha’ís. Five days later, two other Baha’ís were brought to the same
> prison, but these men were not prepared to suffer for their Faith. They
> denied having anything to do with the new Cause, hoping that they would
> be set free. The jailer, however, was in no hurry to send them away. “As you
> are not Babís,” he said, “you can sit with the crowd of thieves and
> murderers.”
> The prisoners were normally permitted to buy food with their own
> money, but the Baha’ís had neither money with them, nor the means of
> getting help from outside. When Varqa’s belongings, among them many
> valuable handwritten books, were confiscated, he said to a friend: “I am
> glad to think that every thing I possessed in this world was of the best
> quality and worthy of being given in the path of God.” Now his enemies
> begrudged him even the dry bread which was the normal ration of the
> prison.
> One of the prisoners, a rich man who was able to buy all he wished in
> prison, came to know that the Baha’ís had no means of buying food and
> were not often given the meager ration of bread which the other prisoners
> received. His heart was touched and he thought of a plan by which he could
> give them a good meal one day. He said he had made a vow to provide a
> dinner for all the prisoners. When the food arrived, however, the guards
> would not let the Baha’ís touch it. “You are not counted among the others,”
> they said. But the host insisted that his vow included everybody present,
> and that it would be useless if a single person were left out. He had later
> said to a friend: “The fools did not realize that it was for the sake of those
> few roses that I watered all the thorns.” A few days later he also gave away
> three silver coins to each prisoner, so as to have an excuse to give some
> money to the Baha’ís.
> One day Varqa, who had many admirers among the influential circles of
> the capital, received a message from a relative entreating him to write a
> poem in praise of the Shah, so that it could be delivered to His Majesty and
> a request be made for the release of the poet. Varqa would not hear of it.
> “My pen has written praises of God and His divine Messenger,” he said.
> “Am I to pollute it now by flattering a tyrant? Never! Let him do what he
> wants with me; I am prepared for the worst.” But he sent a message to the
> Shah requesting that he be brought face to face with the religious
> dignitaries of the capital and be permitted to discuss his beliefs
> 
> with them in the presence of His Majesty. The message was given through
> the powerful and bloodthirsty courtier, Hajibu’d-Dawlih, who had come to
> see Varqa in prison in the hope that the prisoner would promise him a rich
> bribe if he arranged for his release. But Varqa had no such intentions, and
> Hajibu’d-Dawlih, having lost all hope of getting anything out of him, struck
> Varqa on the head with his walking stick and left in a rage. This same man
> came back once more, this time performing such a heinous crime as to put
> to shame any ordinary murderer. The account of the incident is recorded
> by Mírza Husayn who was chained with Varqa and Ruhu’llah in the prison.
> The summary of a part of this chronicle is as follows:
> “One night, when Ruhu’llah had fallen asleep under the chains, I saw his
> father caress his face and whisper: ‘O God, is it possible that this sacrifice I
> bring to Thee will be accepted in Thy sight?’ I was moved beyond words. I
> sat up and wept for many hours, stirred by strange emotions, though no
> one guessed how I passed that night …. In the morning I recounted to
> Varqa something I had once heard from a very good Baha’í teacher. He had
> said that if he knew there was any danger threatening his life, he would run
> away from it as fast as he could, because God has created us for a purpose
> and we have a duty to perform in this world. We should live and serve our
> fellowmen. Varqa replied: ‘This is true, according to the standards of
> reason; but in the realms of the spirit, each one of us has a different path to
> tread.’
> “… Hajibu’d-Dawlih entered the prison with a number of executioners
> clad in their scarlet clothes, and gave orders that all the prisoners should be
> chained to their places. No one knew what he had in mind and a terrible
> fear seized everyone. Then the jailer came to us Baha’ís and said: ‘Come
> with me. You are wanted in court.’ We got up to follow him, though we did
> not believe what he said. ‘It is not necessary to put on your ‘abas, he told
> us, but Ruhu’llah insisted on wearing his. As we came out into the prison
> yard, we were surprised to see armed soldiers standing everywhere and
> wondered if they had come to shoot us. The executioners too were
> standing in a row, and Hajibu’d-Dawlih had a savage look in his eyes. But
> there was not a sound from anyone, and the silence was terrifying. At last
> Hajibu’d-Dawlih asked the jailer to open
> 
> the locks on our chains and send us two by two. The jailer’s hands were
> trembling so badly that he could not open the locks, so another man
> stepped forward and unlocked our chains. Varqa and Ruhu’llah were the
> first to be taken away. They went through a door into a long passage
> leading to another building, while we two were ordered to wait. We could
> hear noises on the other side of the door, but it was impossible to tell what
> was going on. After a while, someone came out into the prison yard to take
> the bastinado.* We thought they were going to put Varqa’s feet in it and
> beat him. I said: ‘I dread this beating. I hope they will cut my throat or
> shoot me and get it over with quickly.’ The door opened again, and this time
> the jailer came out carrying a bloody dagger which he took to the pond in
> the yard and washed. One of the executioners next appeared with Varqa’s
> clothes bundled under his arm. By this time we were in such a state of
> inner turmoil that we could hardly believe we were seeing these things. It
> seemed as though our minds refused to accept what our eyes could see.
> The door opened once more and we two were summoned. As we got near
> the door we heard strange noises and hurried talking, but nothing seemed
> to make sense to us any more. We were about to enter through the door
> when it was quickly closed again. We heard Hajibu’d-Dawlih say: ‘They can
> wait till tomorrow.’ He then came hurrying out in a state of terrible anxiety
> and utter confusion. He left his dagger in the hand of the jailer and rushed
> away with the empty scabbard hanging from his waist.
> “My friend and I were taken back to our cell where we found that even
> the mat we sat on had been taken away in our absence. We sat on the
> damp mud floor and wondered what had taken place behind that closed
> door leading to the other building. If Varqa had been killed, then what had
> happened to Ruhu’llah? We were so shocked by the experience and so
> concerned about Ruhu’llah that we were incapable of speech. We sat from
> the afternoon till midnight unable to utter a single word. Gradually some of
> the guards gathered round us, laughing and mocking and discussing among
> themselves how they were going to divide our
> 
> *
> This instrument is a long piece of wood in the middle of which two ends of a short rope
> are tied to form a loop. The feet of the victim are held firmly in this loop by rolling the
> wood which is then held up by a man on either side while a third man applies a rod to the
> soles.
> clothes between them on the following day. I heard all these things, but
> they made little impression on me. Later on I saw one of the jailers who
> had shown us some kindness before. I caught hold of him and begged him
> to tell me what had happened. I made him swear by the martyred saints of
> Islam that he would tell me the truth as he had seen it take place. This is
> what he recounted: ‘… Hajibu’d-Dawlih said to Varqa: “Which shall I kill
> first, you or your son?” Varqa replied: “It makes no difference to me.” Then
> Hajibu’d-Dawlih drew his dagger and thrust it into Varqa’s belly saying:
> “How do you feel now?” Varqa’s words before he died were: “I am feeling
> much better than you are. Praise be to God!” Hajibu’d-Dawlih ordered four
> executioners to cut Varqa’s body into pieces. The sight of so much blood
> was horrible to see. Ruhu’llah was watching all the time, overcome with
> grief. He kept on repeating: “Father, father, take me with you!” Hajibu’d-
> Dawlih came to him and said: “Don’t weep. I shall take you with me and
> give you a proper salary. I shall ask the Shah to give you a position!” But
> Ruhu’llah replied: “I want neither a salary from you, nor a position from
> the Shah! I am going to join my father.” Hajibu’d-Dawlih asked for a piece
> of rope, but no one could find any rope, so they brought the bastinado and
> put Ruhu’llah’s neck in it. Two of the jailers lifted the bastinado from either
> side and held it while Ruhu’llah gasped for breath. As soon as his body was
> still, they put him down and Hajibu’d-Dawlih called for the two other
> Baha’ís to be brought in. But just then, the child’s body made a sudden
> movement, raised itself from the floor and fell several feet away. Then it
> was still again. This incident shook Hajibu’d-Dawlih so badly that he did
> not have the nerve to carry on with any more killings.’
> “You can imagine how we felt after hearing the details of the martyrdom
> of Varqa and Ruhu’llah. The picture came to life, and I could not put it out
> of my mind. My heart would not be consoled, and I wept for my beloved
> friends all through the night. Finally I fell asleep and had a dream. I saw
> Ruhu’llah coming towards me, looking extremely happy. He said: ‘Did you
> see how ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s promise came true?’ Ruhu’llah had often told me
> with great pride that when he was saying farewell to ‘Abdu’l-Baha after
> visiting Him in the Holy Land, the Master had patted him on the
> 
> shoulder and said: ‘If God so ordains … He will proclaim His Cause through
> Ruhu’llah.’”
> The martyrdom of Ruhu’llah, as well as his short but fruitful life, will
> always be a means of proclaiming the greatness of the Cause of God. His
> beautiful poetry and his exquisite handwriting remain with us, as well as
> many incidents of his life which have been recorded by people who knew
> him personally.
> The following is a very free translation of part of a poem by Ruhu’llah in
> which he asks for martyrdom:
> From the cup of divine bounty give me to drink And rid me of sin and
> weakness; For though my sins be great indeed, The mercy of my Lord is
> greater still.
> Welcome to thee, Sáqí* of the divine banquet! Come thou, refresh my
> soul and make Me worthy of being sacrificed In the path of the Best-
> Beloved.
> 
> Contacting the prisoners
> Word had reached the Baha ’ís in Tihran that four of their fellow-
> believers, among them Varqa and Ruhu’llah, had been brought in chains
> from Zanjan and imprisoned in the capital. This was all the information
> they could gather, and there was no way of finding out what had happened
> to these friends and how they were faring in prison.
> One day, a young man was taken to prison, accompanied by a very
> angry father who had asked the authorities in charge to arrest him. The
> father complained that his son was insolent and disobedient and insisted
> that he had to be punished by being sent to prison.
> The boy was kept in jail for three days, during which time he sat close to
> the Baha’í prisoners and got to know them. “What have you done,” they
> asked him, “to make your father so angry?” “I
> 
> *
> Cupbearer.
> wanted to go to my uncle in Hamadan,” he replied, “and my father would
> not permit me to do so. In the end I decided to run away from home, but
> my father found out about it and had me imprisoned.”
> It was some time after the boy was released that the Baha ’ís in prison
> came to know that both he and his father were fellow-believers who had
> worked out this plan so that they could get some information about their
> friends from Zanjan.
> Unfortunately, the prison authorities kept close watch and no other
> contact could be made with the Baha ’ís in prison for months to come. By
> that time two of them, Varqa and Ruhu’llah, had been cruelly martyred,
> while the other two had gone through unbelievable trials. The day after
> their friends were killed, the jailers had asked the two remaining Baha ’í
> prisoners for the clothes they wore, saying: “It is your turn to be killed
> today. If you do not let us have your clothes, your executioners will get
> them, though they belong to us by right for we have looked after you here
> in prison.” The prisoners gave away all their outer clothing, including their
> socks and shoes. But although they were taken out to be killed on three
> successive days, something happened each time and their execution was
> never carried out.
> It was typical of these brave men that, when they were giving away
> everything they had and preparing to die, the only thing they kept for
> themselves was some rock sugar which they ate, saying: “This will give us a
> little more blood, so that the executioner who cuts our throats will not say
> the Baha’ís have any less blood than other people!”
> It was not until four months later that a few of the Baha ’í women of
> Tihran were able to bring them a little food and clothing from outside.
> 
> A strange incident
> Varqa was in constant physical agony when he was taken in chains and
> stocks from Zanjan to Tihran. He was a big-built person and had difficulty
> in riding a horse which was loaded with packs on both sides; but more than
> that, the stocks on his feet were so heavy
> 
> that they pulled his legs from the joints, and every movement of the horse
> was a torture to bear. And this went on for many long hours day after day.
> Some of the guards who accompanied them had become friendly with
> the Baha’í prisoners after the first few days and it was already whispered
> among them that the officer in charge had himself become a Baha’í. These
> men were all willing to help Varqa by removing the packs placed on his
> horse’s back and by tying his legs to the side of the horse to relieve the pull
> from the heavy stocks, but there were one or two men who would not
> permit this, saying that the prisoners should suffer as much as possible.
> One of the guards was exceptionally cruel. He would whip Varqa’s
> horse to make it gallop, and take pleasure in seeing the agony his prisoner
> went through. Once the officer in charge said to him: “You are worse than
> the tyrant who tortured the Muslim prisoners in the early days of Islam.”
> “Oh no,” he replied, “These Babís are as bad as those early enemies of Islam,
> and it is our duty to torture them. They think they are the saints and we
> are the wicked ones, whereas it is the other way round.” Varqa was very
> sad because of what this man said and, turning to him, he remarked: “May
> the Lord judge between us!”
> The guard said no more but galloped ahead towards a spring some
> distance away. The rest saw him alight from his horse, drink some water,
> and then start to smoke. But all of a sudden he doubled over and started
> screaming with pain. No one knew what had happened to him. The pain in
> his stomach became worse and it was with great difficulty that he was
> taken to the nearest village. Varqa was extremely upset. Being a physician
> himself, he immediately wrote out a prescription for the guard, but it was
> too late, and the man died.
> Varqa could not forgive himself for what he had said to the guard. He
> was filled with remorse for having been so rash in calling upon God to
> punish the man. He remembered with great sorrow the words of his
> Master: “Should other peoples and nations be unfaithful to you show your
> fidelity unto them, should they be unjust towards you show justice towards
> them, should they keep aloof from you attract them to yourself, should they
> show their enmity be friendly
> 
> towards them, should they poison your lives sweeten their souls, should
> they inflict a wound upon you be a salve to their sores. Such are the
> attributes of the sincere. Such are the attributes of the truthful.” Varqa
> would not be consoled because he had neglected the command.
> 
> Blind hatred
> Varqa’s mother-in-law was a rich, talented and accomplished woman.
> She was also a sworn enemy of the Baha ’í Faith. So great was the hatred
> she bore towards all its followers that when she heard Varqa and Ruhu’llah
> had been killed because of their Faith, she gave a large banquet and called
> in musicians to celebrate the occasion.
> Some years before that she herself had tried to persuade a servant to
> kill Varqa, promising him a very handsome reward. But the servant had,
> unknown to her, already fallen under the spell of her son-in-law and
> accepted his beliefs. He warned Varqa of the intentions of his mother-in-
> law, and Varqa took the necessary precautions to save his life.
> Having lost hope in bringing about his death herself, Varqa ’s mother-in-
> law went to an influential mujtahid who was a relative of hers, informed
> him that Varqa was a Baha ’í and asked for his death-warrant. The mujtahid
> told her that he could not give the death sentence until he himself was
> convinced that her son-in-law was an infidel. “I can give you ample proof,”
> said the lady. “I shall bring you one of his own children who has been
> taught by Varqa himself, and after you have seen this child you will have no
> more doubts.”
> Ruhu’llah, a child of eight or nine at that time, was brought to the
> presence of the mujtahid and told to repeat one of the prayers his father
> had taught him. Ruhu’llah stood up and said a long, beautiful prayer
> revealed by Baha’u’llah. The mujtahid was touched beyond words.
> Turning to the child’s grandmother, he said: “How dare you expect me to
> sign the death-warrant of a man who has taught his son to pray to his
> Creator in this way?”
> 
> Never at a loss
> Ruhu’llah and his brother were walking in the streets of Zanjan one day
> when a be-turbaned, awe-inspiring mujtahid came riding along on his
> donkey. The mujtahid could tell by the clothes the boys were wearing that
> they were not natives of Zanjan. “Whose children are you?” he asked them.
> Ruhu’llah answered: “We are the sons of Varqa of Yazd.” “What is your
> name?” the mujtahid enquired of the boy. “My name is Ruhu’llah,” the child
> replied. “Oho! What a great name!” said the mujtahid. “This is the title of
> His Holiness Jesus Christ who raised the dead!” “If you will ride a little
> more slowly, sir,” was Ruhu’llah’s prompt reply, “I, too, will raise you from
> the dead.” “You must be Babís!” growled the priest as he hastened along.
> 
> A brave soul
> This is part of an account which comes to us from a fellow-prisoner of
> Mulla Rida of Yazd:
> “There were a number of us in the prison of Tihran. Mulla Rida and I ate
> from the same bowl, and were chained together at night. I have never
> known anyone like Mulla Rida. He was learned and wise, he was forbearing
> and meek, his faith was unshakeable, his courage knew no limits and his
> endurance under torture was almost superhuman.
> “I had already heard strange accounts about the courage and
> steadfastness which Mulla Rida had shown when he was being persecuted
> by enemies of the Cause. Once, the religious dignitaries of Yazd had
> sentenced him to be bastinadoed seven times in one day in seven different
> places of the town, so that the different sections of the population might see
> the punishment inflicted on a. Babí. Arriving at each place, Mulla Rida
> would cheerfully spread his handkerchief on the ground and, taking off his
> cloak, turban and socks, he would place them on the handkerchief; then he
> would lie down on his back, pull his tunic over his head and, raising his feet
> to receive the rods, he would say to his torturers: ‘You can set to work
> now, gentlemen.’ His calmness infuriated the men, and
> 
> they applied the rods with all their might, hoping that he would cry out in
> pain or beg for mercy. Not once did they hear him utter a sound. On one
> occasion they had beaten him so severely that the onlookers thought he
> must have died under the torture. To their surprise, when they pulled away
> the garment from off his face, they found him engaged in cleaning his teeth!
> No wonder people asked whether he was an ordinary human being, with
> the same kind of flesh and bone as themselves.
> “Years later, when Mulla Rida was an old man and imprisoned as a Babí,
> one of the notables of Tihran saw him receive a severe lashing on his bare
> back in the prison yard. He was so impressed by the serene manner in
> which Mulla Rida received the savage treatment that he immediately
> wanted to know about the Cause for which this dignified old man was
> suffering. His investigations led him to accept the new Faith, and he often
> told his friends that Mulla Rida’s calm behaviour under such cruel torture
> did more to attract him to the Cause than any amount of arguments could
> have done.
> “After that lashing Mulla Rida’s back was terribly wounded, but when
> one of his fellow-believers in the prison tried to express his sympathy,
> Mulla Rida stopped him saying: ‘What do you think? When the jailer was
> applying those lashes, I found myself in the presence of Baha’u’llah. I was
> on top of the world and did not feel a thing!’
> “At the time when Nasiri’d-Dín Shah was assassinated, the enemies of
> the Cause started to put the blame on the Baha ’ís. It was a very dangerous
> time for the believers and no one knew what would be the outcome of this
> false accusation. Mulla Rida, who was out of prison at that time, happened
> to be among the congregation in a mosque when the priest began to abuse
> the Babís and accuse them of the assassination of the Shah. With complete
> disregard for his own safety, Mulla Rida interrupted the priest before he
> could arouse the people’s anger against the followers of the new Faith.
> ‘Hold your peace!’ he called out. ‘This has nothing to do with the Babís.
> They would never do such a thing!’ The congregation stared at him in
> surprise. ‘Why should you be defending the Babís?’ someone asked. ‘You
> are not one of them, are you?’ ‘Of course I am!’ Mulla Rida boldly declared,
> whereupon he was seized and sent to Tihran.
> 
> “The high official into whose presence he was conducted in Tihran
> looked at Mulla Rida and said: ‘This old man is no Babí; let him go.’ But
> Mulla Rida would be known as nothing else. ‘You are mistaken, your
> Highness,’ he protested, ‘I am not only a Babí, but a Baha’í as well. In fact, I
> have already been imprisoned a number of times because of my Faith, and
> there are many people who can testify to the truth of what I say.’ What!’
> said the astonished official. ‘Do you wish to be sent to prison again?’ ‘If it
> be so decreed,’ replied Mulla Rida calmly, ‘I shall certainly accept it.’ This is
> how Mulla Rida came to join the rest of us in the prison of Tihran.
> “Nothing could stop Mulla Rida from telling others about the new Faith.
> He taught people under the most difficult conditions and the fact that his
> own life was endangered by it did not seem to matter to him. In prison he
> spoke about the Cause to our fellow-prisoners. Many of them mocked us
> and abused our Faith, but whenever I lost my patience, Mulla Rida would
> say: ‘Why are you disturbed? This is how people have always reacted
> towards the teachings of God’s Messengers.’
> “We were eventually released from prison after sixteen months due to
> the efforts of some of our women who had appealed to the new king, but
> we were so weak from lack of food and fresh air that we could hardly walk.
> On the day of our release we were taken to the house of an official where
> our chains were taken off and we were told we could go to our homes.
> Before we could leave that place, however, a clergyman happened to arrive
> at the house of the official and, on being told about our case, expressed a
> desire to meet us. We knew that this might prove a dangerous encounter
> and excused ourselves saying that we were too weak to talk to anyone.
> Mulla Rida alone rose up to go. ‘We cannot refuse to speak to him,’ he said.
> We begged him not to go, but he would not listen to our entreaties. The
> result of the discussions between Mulla Rida and that clergyman was that
> Mulla Rida was sentenced to go back to the prison. When I heard this my
> grief knew no bounds, and I begged to be permitted to go to prison instead
> of him as he was very old and frail at that time and I knew that he could not
> endure the rigours of that dreadful confinement much longer. Mulla Rida
> would not hear of this and I watched him go with great sorrow, though he
> himself showed no signs of sadness. He even joked to
> 
> us about going back to prison, and told us an amusing anecdote to make us
> laugh before he left us.
> “Mulla Rida passed away in prison ten days later. He had been starved
> to death, we were told, but we knew that they could have never succeeded
> in breaking his spirit.”
> 
> Prison life with Mullá Riḍá
> It was a strange sight. There, beside the pond in the prison yard, two
> men were busy helping the only Jewish prisoner in the place to take a bath.
> One man was pouring water over him, while the other, an elderly person,
> was scrubbing his back. Those who saw them wondered what sort of
> people these two men were, who cared to show kindness to a Jew. Even the
> Jew himself could not quite understand. Ever since he had been brought to
> this prison, he had been despised and shunned by his fellow-prisoners, and
> had received nothing but curses and blows from the jailers. Why should
> these two men, utter strangers to him, be concerned with his needs?
> The idea of helping the Jew to take a bath had come from Mulla Rida. He
> had noticed how the man was being treated by everyone else, and had said
> to his friend: “Do you realize how much more difficult life is for this poor
> Jew than for the rest of the prisoners here? No one associates with him; no
> one gives him anything. They all regard him as unclean and will not let him
> step into their bath. If you will give me a hand, we can at least help him
> have a good wash beside the pond in the yard outside.”
> So they helped the Jew take a bath, and gave him their spare clothes to
> wear.
> At another time when Mulla Rida was imprisoned with a number of his
> fellow-believers in Tihran, they had only one spare shirt between them.
> This shirt was washed and handed round in turn.
> One day, a young man who was guilty of theft was brought to the prison
> and chained beside Mulla Rida. Mulla Rida noticed that this young man had
> no shirt at all, so he asked for the spare one they had, to give to him. One of
> his friends said to Mulla Rida: “You put on the clean shirt and let the young
> man have the one you are wearing.” “How can I do such a thing?” said
> Mulla Rida. “What
> 
> we give away to another man is like a gift we make to Baha’u’llah. Do you
> expect me to give Him anything less than the best I have?”
> 
> A warm welcome
> An old man got up to welcome the Baha ’ís as they stepped into the
> prison in Tihran. “Greetings to you, Hají Iman!” he said. Hají Iman
> recognized him as a thief with whom he had been imprisoned in this same
> place some years before. “Greetings to you, my friend,” he replied. “You
> are still here!” “Yes,” said the old man, “I have been here for seventeen
> years now. But it is never the same without Baha’ís in the prison! I was so
> happy to hear you were coming back.”
> Some of the other prisoners, too, gathered around the new arrivals.
> “How is ‘Ibn-i-Abhar?” they enquired, “and where is he now? He stayed
> here with us for four years, and was like a father to us all. We have been
> like orphans since he went away.” “The Baha’ís are all like ‘Ibn-i-Abhar,”
> said the old man who had seen many come and go during his long years in
> prison. “They bring blessings with them whenever they come here. May
> they always continue to grace this prison with their presence.”
> It was a simple, touching welcome by one who had no other friends in
> the world.
> 
> Rebirth
> Siyyid Muhammad sat in his room wrapped in deep thought. He had
> heard people say that his friend, ‘Andalíb, had become a Babí. Though
> Siyyid Muhammad doubted the rumour, he was, nevertheless, much
> disturbed in his mind. Why should people think that ‘Andalíb, such a
> learned and pious youth, would be deceived by the Babís? What could
> possibly attract him to these enemies of God and of religion? But now that
> this rumour had started, only ‘Andalíb himself could stop it by openly
> denouncing the new Faith. Siyyid Muhammad waited till it was dark, then,
> throwing his ‘aba over his head, made his way to the house of his friend.
> 
> “See that no one else is let in,” he told ‘Andalíb upon his arrival. “I have
> an important matter to discuss with you.” ‘Andalíb spoke to his mother,
> then, closing the door behind him, sat down on a small mattress opposite
> Siyyid Muhammad.
> The two young men had much in common. They were both well versed
> in Islamic scriptures and, unlike most orthodox Muslims of their day, they
> were also acquainted with the works of the great philosophers. But,
> whereas ‘Andalíb was a writer and a poet, Siyyid Muhammad was studying
> to become a mujtahid and succeed his uncle as one of the religious
> dignitaries of Lahíjan. He came from an old family who had always trained
> one of their sons to become a mujtahid. Siyyid Muhammad had been
> chosen from childhood and given the necessary education to prepare him
> for this position.
> “Do you know what I have heard today?” said Siyyid Muhammad to his
> friend in a voice which betrayed his inner agitation. ‘Andalíb knew what to
> expect, but calmly enquired: “What have you heard?” Siyyid Muhammad
> found it difficult to speak to his friend in connection with a religion he held
> in such contempt, but he made the effort. “They say you have become a
> Babí!” There was a long pause, then ‘Andalíb spoke: “Well,” he said,
> “supposing what they say is true ….” “What!” cried his friend. “Have you
> lost your sanity? Are you prepared to renounce this world and the next by
> joining a group of infidels who are cursed by God and men alike?”
> ‘Andalíb wondered if it would be wise to speak of his new-found Faith.
> He knew too well of the hatred Siyyid Muhammad bore towards the Babís,
> as the Baha’ís were still called by their countrymen. He remembered how
> Siyyid Muhammad would never take anything from the hand of someone
> he suspected to belong to this group, much less would he enter the house of
> a Babí or treat one of them as a friend. Yet ‘Andalíb could not doubt Siyyid
> Muhammad’s sincerity. The fact that he had risked his own reputation by
> coming to warn ‘Andalíb of the rumour he had heard proved that he was
> indeed a true friend.
> “I will tell you everything,” he told Siyyid Muhammad at length, “for I
> see that you are the only real friend I have in Lahíjan and I cannot be any
> less sincere in my friendship towards you. What you have heard is true,
> but before you pass any judgement, you must make me a promise. If I have
> strayed away from the right
> 
> path in my search for Truth, you must help me to turn back, but if I can
> convince you that I have indeed found the Truth, then you too must accept
> it. Give me your word!” Siyyid Muhammad accepted the challenge, fully
> convinced that he could save his friend from the spell under which he had
> fallen.
> This was in Ramadan—the sacred month of the fast. For the next few
> months the two friends met regularly. Siyyid Muhammad would go to
> ‘Andalíb after dark when there was little danger of being recognized on the
> streets, and would come back to his room before dawn. In the beginning
> Siyyid Muhammad, quite confident of his own knowledge, referred to
> passages out of the Qur’an and recited innumerable traditions concerning
> the advent of the Promised One. He mentioned all the signs given in the
> holy Scriptures regarding the Resurrection and the Day of Judgement, and
> brought forth every argument he could think of to refute the claims of the
> Bab and Baha’u’llah.
> ‘Andalíb listened patiently, then calmly explained the true meanings of
> the symbolic terms used in the holy Books. He referred to given dates and
> proofs by which the truth of the Missions of both the Bab and Baha’u’llah
> could be established, and pointed out how all the signs mentioned by the
> Prophets of the past had already appeared.
> Night after night, week after week, the two friends met. Siyyid
> Muhammad was not convinced, but he was not so sure of his old ideas any
> more. One evening ‘Andalíb, tired of discussions, unlocked his safe and
> took out some of the Writings of the Bab and Baha’u’llah. Siyyid
> Muhammad stayed up all night to read them and reluctantly rose to leave
> in the morning.
> All through that day, though he attended his lectures as usual, his mind
> was on the Writings he had left behind in the home of ‘Andalíb and, as soon
> as it was dark, he hurried back to the precious manuscripts. What he read
> had a profound effect on him, yet so great had been his prejudice against
> the Authors of these Writings, that even now he had doubts and could not
> bring himself to admit the truth of their Cause. What was quite evident to
> him, however, was that he no longer believed in the old standards he had
> once unquestioningly accepted. He felt he was losing faith in everything.
> “No wonder people are forbidden to associate with Babís,” he
> 
> thought. “These Babís can undermine all one’s cherished views on religion,
> and one is left with nothing unless one accepts what they offer.” He decided
> that he should not see ‘Andalíb any more.
> So he stopped going to his friend’s house. Yet, however much he tried,
> he could not rid himself of the thoughts which now tormented him day and
> night. He started questioning the divines and religious dignitaries about
> problems he had discussed with ‘Andalíb, but he found their views so
> shallow and so prejudiced that he soon gave up all hopes of receiving
> guidance from this group. He did not know where to turn and it seemed to
> him that even God had forsaken him, for he could find no peace in prayer.
> He would go out into the wastelands and forests outside Lahíjan to be alone
> with his Creator, and there he would pray aloud and cry out and beg for
> guidance until night set in and the thought of wild animals prowling about
> sent him back to the town. People noticed the great change that had come
> over him and whispered that he was in love. Some said that he had studied
> too hard and read too many books; but none knew of the true reason for his
> state of mind, or of his secret visits to ‘Andalíb.
> In an attempt to forget all about his discussions with ‘Andalíb, Siyyid
> Muhammad gathered together a group of his young friends and gave all his
> spare time to entertainments and excursions in the country. One evening,
> the young people were returning home after having spent the day out of
> town and Siyyid Muhammad was walking alone, a little behind the others,
> wrapped in thoughts he could not shake off despite the carefree life he
> seemed to be leading. Suddenly his eyes fell on ‘Andalíb. Two months had
> passed since the day the two friends had last met.
> “What happened to your promise, Siyyid Muhammad?” asked ‘Andalíb.
> “Was it not agreed between us that we would not give up our discussions
> until one of us had convinced the other of the truth of his beliefs? If you
> were to die this very night and, in the presence of the Most High, be called
> upon to give an answer regarding this Cause, what would you have to say?
> Could you say that you had truly investigated the new Faith and found it to
> be false? Or would you say that you were afraid it might be true and ran
> away?”
> Siyyid Muhammad was shaken to the core of his being. He knew
> 
> that he could no longer go on deceiving himself, that he could have no peace
> until he had found a solution to the problems which overwhelmed his soul.
> Once more he shut himself up in his own room to study the signs of the
> advent of the Promised One. He went through the holy Scriptures and the
> works of the great religious scholars, and noted down sixty-one signs he
> wished to discuss. Armed with these, he knocked again on the door of
> ‘Andalíb’s house.
> The night sessions were resumed between the two young men and
> continued for months. During this period, ‘Andalíb’s patience was sorely
> tried, for Siyyid Muhammad would neither exhaust his arguments nor bring
> himself to admit that there was truth in what his friend told him.
> A full year went by from the day when Siyyid Muhammad, fearful for the
> life of his friend, had come to warn him of the rumour he had heard. The
> two friends were sitting in the same room where they had first started
> their discussions, but a great change had come over them. A year before,
> each of the young men was fully convinced that he could win his friend over
> to his own Faith. Now, Siyyid Muhammad knew that ‘Andalíb’s faith could
> never be shaken, while ‘Andalíb had come to the end of his patience with
> his friend. “I am tired of you and your arguments,” he finally told Siyyid
> Muhammad. “Go your way and leave me to mine, for I have stopped hoping
> that you will see the Truth.” To his great surprise, Siyyid Muhammad
> replied: “Must I confess my faith to you in words, or is it sufficient that I
> believe in my heart?”
> Great indeed was the joy that came at last to these two men whose
> friendship had withstood such severe trials and established a bond
> between them which could never be broken.
> 
> Tests
> Siyyid Muhammad was nineteen years of age when he embraced the
> new Cause, and it was not long before his faith was to be put to the test. His
> faithful friend, ‘Andalíb, had warned him to be careful, and for a time he
> contented himself with the study of whatever Writings of the Bab and
> Baha’u’llah ‘Andalíb could give him, and with meeting an occasional Baha’í
> visitor who passed through
> 
> Lahíjan. These visitors were a great source of inspiration to the believers in
> the small towns and villages. They brought news of Baha’ís in other parts
> of Persia or, better still, they sometimes carried a handwritten copy of a
> letter recently received-from Baha’u’llah in the Holy Land.
> One day, when Siyyid Muhammad was in the company of a group of his
> acquaintances, ‘Andalíb entered the room and quietly placed a piece of
> paper in his hand. It was a note saying that Samandar* had just arrived in
> Lahíjan. Siyyid Muhammad immediately destroyed the note and rose to go.
> He waited outside in the courtyard till ‘Andalíb could find an excuse to
> follow him, and together they hurried to meet the new arrival.
> The distinguished guest had been to the presence of Baha’u’llah, and
> had brought a precious gift for Siyyid Muhammad—a letter addressed to
> him and written in Baha’u’llah’s own handwriting. This letter set aflame
> the fire which was kindled in the heart of Siyyid Muhammad, and burned
> away the veils which had so far concealed the love he bore for his new-
> found Faith. Nothing could keep him quiet any more. He started discussing
> the new Cause with those whom he thought might be prepared to listen,
> and succeeded in guiding a few receptive souls. But the risk he took was
> great, and soon his very life was endangered by it.
> Many of his friends warned him to refrain from propagating the new
> Faith before he came to be denounced as a Babí, but their warnings went
> unheeded, and Siyyid Muhammad soon found himself confronted with the
> opposition of the entire body of the students of the madrasih where he was
> studying theology and Islamic law, and where he, like many of his fellow-
> students, was given one of the rooms around the large courtyard.
> An incident which took place at this time helped to fan the flame of their
> anger against Siyyid Muhammad. Some of those to whom he had given the
> new Message had repeatedly insulted the Writings of the Bab and
> Baha’u’llah, saying that no one in his sane mind would ever think that the
> Authors of these works could be inspired. Siyyid Muhammad, wishing to
> prove the utter ignorance and prejudice of these people, wrote down some
> passages from different
> 
> *
> Father of the Hand of the Cause of God, Mr. Samandarí.
> parts of the Qur’an and, handing this to them, said: “Be fair, can you truly
> say that these words are not inspired and that it is a sin to believe in the
> Author of these verses?” So blind were they in their prejudice that they
> scorned the sayings of their own Prophet and persisted in their ignorance
> even when Siyyid Muhammad repeatedly warned them to open their eyes
> and be fair in their judgement. At last, Siyyid Muhammad asked for a copy
> of the Qur’an and pointed out the verses to them, but instead of shaming
> them into silence, this incident served to heighten their anger and make
> them sworn enemies of Siyyid Muhammad.
> Gradually the atmosphere in the madrasih grew so tense that Siyyid
> Muhammad decided to take away the sacred Writings he had in his room
> and entrust them into the hands of one of the other believers in Lahíjan.
> This friend advised him to leave the town before he came to any harm, but
> nothing could be further from Siyyid Muhammad’s intentions. “If I go away
> at this time,” he said, “people will say I was afraid to stand up for my
> religion. Besides, I will lose the opportunity of teaching the Cause to my
> own relatives. I must stay in Lahíjan no matter what may happen.”
> Having delivered the Writings into safe hands, he went to spend the
> night at home. His uncle, who had cared for him since childhood, and at
> whose house he was staying, was very late in coming home that night.
> Siyyid Muhammad was told that the Imam Jum‘ih, the chief of the divines of
> the town, had sent for his uncle. Siyyid Muhammad knew what this meant,
> but thought it unwise to mention anything about the subject to the
> members of the household. The next morning, however, when he was
> preparing to leave for the madrasih, his uncle stopped him saying: “Do not
> bother to attend any further lectures. The knowledge you have so far
> acquired is quite sufficient for all of us.” Siyyid Muhammad pretended not
> to understand what he meant. “Why?” he asked. “What has happened?”
> “You know perfectly well what has happened!” retorted his uncle. “You
> have foolishly endangered your own life and brought disgrace upon our
> name!” “It is easy for you to save your name from disgrace by breaking
> relationships with me,” said Siyyid Muhammad, “but I cannot stay at home
> like a coward.”
> Upon leaving the house, Siyyid Muhammad directed his steps to the
> residence of the Imam Jum‘ih. Two of his fellow-students were
> 
> there when he arrived, but the Imam Jum‘ih was the only one who returned
> his salutations. After he was seated, the host ordered his servant to prepare
> the hubble-bubble pipe and then, turning to Siyyid Muhammad, he said: “I
> am about to leave the town on urgent business. I advise you not to go to the
> madrasih till I come back.” “May I know the reason?” asked Siyyid
> Muhammad. “The reason,” replied the Imam Jum‘ih, “is that there have
> been certain rumours about you, and your fellow-students refuse to have
> you disgrace the name of the madrasih in which they study. When I am
> back again, I intend to clear your name of these false accusations, but for
> the time being, you must keep away from the madrasih lest you endanger
> your life. I have already spoken to your uncle and told him that you should
> not be allowed to leave the house; I do not understand why you are so
> utterly disregardful of your own safety.”
> The hubble-bubble pipe was now brought in, and the Imam Jum‘ih
> proceeded to smoke in silence. Then he passed the pipe to the man who sat
> beside him who, in turn, smoked for a few minutes and passed it to his
> friend. But when this person wished to give the pipe to Siyyid Muhammad,
> the Imam Jum‘ih forbade him with a motion of his hand. This, in clear
> terms, branded Siyyid Muhammad as a Babí who should not be permitted
> to defile what was to be used by devout Muslims.
> When the Imam Jum‘ih rose to leave, the three students went to attend a
> lecture at the house of another mujtahid. The other two students, however,
> would have nothing to do with Siyyid Muhammad and hurried on in front
> so as not to be seen with him. The lesson had not yet started when Siyyid
> Muhammad arrived and the mujtahid, their teacher, received him very
> warmly, asking after his health and well-being. The discourse of the day
> concerned the signs of the times referred to in the holy Books, and the
> students found ample opportunity to direct their sarcastic remarks at
> Siyyid Muhammad. To their astonishment Siyyid Muhammad too had a lot
> to say about his views on the subject that day.
> When the lesson was over, Siyyid Muhammad was invited to sit beside
> the teacher and, no sooner was he seated than the mujtahid put his hand
> into Siyyid Muhammad’s pocket to investigate its contents. Having found
> nothing of interest there, he proceeded to search the folds of his turban.
> After making sure that no papers
> 
> were hidden in his turban either, he turned to two of his students and
> asked: “Where are the writings you spoke of?” “He must have left them in
> his room,” one of them replied. Siyyid Muhammad, pretending to be utterly
> unaware of what they were referring to, asked the mujtahid what it was
> that he had expected to find on him. “These two men,” said the mujtahid,
> “came to me and said that you had renounced the Faith of your illustrious
> Ancestor, the Holy Prophet, and had joined the followers of the Bab and
> Baha’u’llah. They said you were carrying their writings with you to read to
> people in order to convert them to the new Faith, that you had already
> succeeded in deceiving a great number and that if nothing were done to
> stop you, half the population of Lahíjan would become Babís in no time. I
> could not believe what they said, and I told them that a person as intelligent
> and well-informed as yourself would never be deceived by these people. I
> asked them to stop disgracing your name in this town, and warned them
> that their foolish talk might become the cause of the murder of an innocent
> descendant of the Prophet, but they would not be silenced. They said it was
> my duty as a mujtahid to protect the interests of Islam and to make sure
> that you did not mislead the people of Lahíjan. That is why I have searched
> your pockets and turban. Now these men should be ashamed of the false
> charges they have brought against you. Give me the key to your room so
> that they can search that place too and see that you are hiding no secret
> papers.” Siyyid Muhammad gave the key to his safe, saying that his room
> was open as he expected two young boys who came to study with him.
> The two children whom Siyyid Muhammad taught in his spare time, and
> who were now awaiting his return in the madrasih, were Baha’í children
> who had seen their teacher place some sacred Writings in his safe. They
> did not know that he had already removed them from that place and taken
> them to the home of another believer, so when they saw the men enter
> Siyyid Muhammad’s room and go straight to this safe, they threw
> themselves on the box and fought to keep the men away. As soon as one of
> the boys would be pulled aside, the other would manage to throw himself
> on the safe, and this further irritated the men who were already burning
> with hatred towards Siyyid Muhammad. The two boys were eventually
> held off and the safe was opened but, to everybody’s astonishment, it
> 
> was found to be empty. The joy of the two children can well be imagined,
> but the men were so furious that they looted the room and took away
> everything Siyyid Muhammad owned.
> While this was taking place in the madrasih, the mujtahid was trying to
> persuade Siyyid Muhammad to speak ill of the Bab and Baha’u’llah in the
> presence of the assembled students. “Your fellow-students,” remarked the
> mujtahid, “accuse you of having said that the Promised One has appeared.”
> “There is a group of people,” Siyyid Muhammad replied, “who believe the
> Promised One has come and, as students of religion, it is our duty to
> investigate into the matter before we can either accept or deny the claim.”
> “The falsehood of this claim has already been proven to me,” said the
> mujtahid, “and it is for you to follow me in these matters.” “I would have
> gladly followed you,” replied Siyyid Muhammad, “had it not been an
> essential duty of every Muslim to investigate the claim of the Promised One
> for himself.” The mujtahid was losing his patience. “You are accused of
> being a Babí,” he said, “and I order you to denounce the names of the Bab
> and Baha’u’llah, and curse their Faith in the presence of everyone here.” “Is
> it you I must obey, or God?” asked Siyyid Muhammad. “Have I spoken
> against the word of God?” cried the mujtahid. “God has forbidden us to
> curse anyone,” Siyyid Muhammad reminded him, and recited the verse
> given in the Qur’an. The mujtahid could no longer control his anger. “Will
> you, or will you not, denounce these people, you dog?” he thundered. “I am
> afraid,” said Siyyid Muhammad. The mujtahid calmed down. “Who are you
> afraid of?” he asked. “Is it someone who is present in this gathering?” “It is
> God I am afraid of,” was the reply. “I am now thoroughly convinced,” said
> the furious mujtahid, “that you have renounced the Faith of your illustrious
> Ancestor.” Then, calling his servant, he ordered him to take away Siyyid
> Muhammad’s ‘aba and turban so that he might no more be clothed in the
> honourable garments of a religious Muslim. As soon as the servant made a
> move, however, Siyyid Muhammad called out: “Beware! If you so much as
> take one step towards me, you will come to repent it.” The mujtahid was
> suddenly seized with fear. “Stay where you are!” he told the servant. Then,
> turning to Siyyid Muhammad, he quietly said: “Now that you have given up
> the Faith of your holy Ancestor, you should put away the
> 
> clothes that belong to His religion.” “The Faith of my Ancestor,” replied
> Siyyid Muhammad, “has nothing to do with my turban, which I can take off
> myself. I was hoping that you would ask for my head!” Saying this, he took
> off his ‘aba and turban, while his long, black hair now fell over his
> shoulders. Then, in the silence which followed, he chanted the verses
> written by one of the Imams when he was suffering persecutions at the
> hands of his enemies. The effect of these beautiful verses, as well as the
> deep, impressive tones in which they were chanted, was such that some of
> those who heard him were moved to tears. As Siyyid Muhammad left that
> gathering, a great joy took possession of his whole being, making him
> utterly oblivious of the danger that threatened his life.
> It was Siyyid Muhammad’s intention to keep away from his uncle’s
> house lest his presence there should belittle his uncle’s reputation among
> the inhabitants of Lahíjan, but his relatives insisted that he should stay with
> them. His uncle, in the meantime, having heard of what had happened after
> the lecture, had hurried to that place and reproached the mujtahid for his
> behaviour towards his nephew. “Your deliberate persistence,” he told the
> mujtahid, “has annoyed the young man and caused him to stand against
> you. You have no reason to assume that he is a Babí when he, himself, has
> made no such confession.”
> Though he did not wish to admit it, however, Siyyid Muhammad’s uncle
> was quite aware of the fact that unless his nephew openly denounced the
> Babís and the Authors of their Faith, nothing could now save him from the
> evil consequences of the rumours which were fast spreading throughout
> the town and its surroundings. At the same time, realizing that neither
> threats nor punishments could persuade Siyyid Muhammad to alter the
> course he had chosen to take, he decided to approach him with kind words.
> Arriving at his home, he spoke to his nephew in the presence of a few
> close relatives who were all devoted to the young man. He reminded Siyyid
> Muhammad of the hopes he cherished for his future and of the pains he had
> taken in educating him since his childhood so that he might now become a
> source of comfort to his ageing uncle and succeed to his title and position
> after his death. He went on to speak of the jealousy of Siyyid Muhammad’s
> fellow-students at the madrasih, how they had waited for an opportunity
> 
> to degrade him in the eyes of others, and how they had now found an
> excuse by which they could disgrace his name and become the means of
> causing his death. “All I ask of you,” he told Siyyid Muhammad, “is to make
> it clear to those who are now present in this room that these rumours are
> unfounded, by denouncing the Bab.”
> Siyyid Muhammad knew what this meant. He was being asked to speak
> ill of the Founders of his Faith, so that his relatives could act as witnesses
> and take him to recant his faith in the presence of a different mujtahid
> every day. He took out his sharp pen-knife and proceeded to open it. One
> of the men quickly took it away from his hand. “What are you doing?” they
> asked in astonishment. “I was about to cut out my tongue,” replied Siyyid
> Muhammad, “for I could neither disobey my uncle nor could I bring myself
> to curse anyone.”
> The ladies of the house, who heard and saw what was going on in the
> room from behind a curtain, could not bear to see Siyyid Muhammad
> treated in this manner. “You will make him lose his mind altogether if you
> go on like this,” they said to his uncle. “Is it not enough that he has to suffer
> at the hands of his enemies outside? Can he not have peace in his own
> home? Perhaps the Babís have given him some powerful drug which has
> affected his mind and he cannot think clearly any more.”
> Siyyid Muhammad’s uncle took his cue from these wise ladies. “My
> nephew,” he told everyone, “has been drugged by the Babís and has become
> mentally deranged. No one should aggravate his malady by speaking to
> him about these infidels and their accursed religion.” These words, coming
> from an influential religious dignitary, prevented Siyyid Muhammad from
> being killed in Lahíjan.
> His life, nevertheless, became more difficult every day. He was treated
> like a leper wherever he went and devoted Muslims would not be defiled
> by taking anything from his hand. ‘Andalíb, his faithful friend, had to leave
> that town, and Siyyid Muhammad found himself gradually cut off from his
> fellow-believers. He thirsted for news, and longed to meet with other
> Baha’ís. In the end, deciding that he could not go on living in an
> atmosphere which oppressed his soul on every side, he left his hometown,
> his position and all his worldly belongings to seek a new life in Tihran.
> 
> A famous doctor
> The story of the tests and trials which Siyyid Muhammad met with in
> Tihran are too numerous to be recounted here. For a long time he was
> looked upon with suspicion by friend and foe alike. That people should
> come to suspect him as a Babí and shun his company was to be expected by
> Siyyid Muhammad, but to be treated with indifference by his fellow-
> believers was something which he had not anticipated and which caused
> him much sorrow. The Baha’ís, on the other hand, could not be entirely
> blamed for their conduct towards him. Being constantly persecuted by the
> clergy, they were reluctant to welcome in their midst a stranger who
> apparently belonged to this class and who might be posing as a fellow-
> believer so that he could betray their names and numbers to their enemies.
> The situation, in time, became so difficult for Siyyid Muhammad that,
> had his faith been any less strong, he would not have been able to
> persevere much longer. But he proved to be as unshakable as a mountain
> in the face of the severe calamities which beset him in those days. His
> desire to teach the Cause was so great that even when he had to go without
> proper nourishment for several months, the little money he had was mostly
> spent in buying tea and sugar and tobacco for the hubble-bubble pipe,* so
> that he could invite people to his room in the evenings and prepare them to
> receive the new Message.
> Though his heart never wavered in those difficult days, his body grew
> very weak. Many a time, as he lay ill with fever and starving in the corner
> of his room with his old ‘aba as his only covering, he thought of what his
> uncle had said to him as he was preparing to leave the comfort of his life in
> Lahíjan and seek an unknown destiny in a strange city rather than give up
> his new-found Faith. “I can see you,” his uncle had told him, “dying of
> starvation and misery in the corner of a forsaken room, with not a friend
> beside you.”
> Yet Siyyid Muhammad’s life was not destined to end in this way. He was
> to live and become rich and famous. He was to receive titles from the Shah
> and be respected as one of the most well-known physicians of the capital.
> 
> *
> Offering the hubble-bubble pipe to guests was the customary etiquette.
> After enduring every kind of hardship in Tihran, Siyyid Muhammad’s
> life gradually underwent a change. He was able to earn a living by teaching
> private pupils who came to him in the evenings, while his days were
> devoted to the study of medicine. Then, one day, he received a visit from a
> Baha’í whom he had met in his own hometown. This friend, who had just
> arrived in Tihran, introduced Siyyid Muhammad to the rest of the Baha’ís
> there, and reproached them for having failed to see the difference between
> a mischief-maker and a person who had sacrificed all he had for the sake of
> his Faith. His association with the Baha’ís of Tihran was a turning point in
> the life of Siyyid Muhammad. From then on, he took an active part in all
> that the Baha’ís undertook in the capital. He was on the first Local Spiritual
> Assembly in Persia, and a member of the Committee of the Tarbíyat School
> which was the first Baha’í school established in that country.
> But Siyyid Muhammad never forgot the days when he lay ill in an empty
> room, with no one to care for him and no means of obtaining any food; and
> years later, when he was a famous doctor, he also became known as a
> friend of the poor. Not only did he give free treatment to the needy but he
> also provided them with medicine and food. He came to be loved and
> respected by all who knew him, and even some of those people who had
> previously shunned his company because of his religion were now proud to
> call him their friend.
> There are people still living in Persia who remember the majestic figure
> of Siyyid Muhammad, with the wonderful kind eyes that attracted so many
> to him, walking through the streets on the way to visit a prince or a beggar,
> to attend an official banquet or to cheer up his fellow-believers in prison.
> They remember him standing by the baker’s shop, day after day during the
> famine, distributing bread to the poor. They also remember how, when
> there was an epidemic of typhoid in Tihran, people swore that no patient
> died who had been visited by Siyyid Muhammad, such faith did they have in
> his healing powers.
> One day, as Siyyid Muhammad was walking through the market place,
> his young son who was with him noticed how those whom they met on the
> way, whether men or women, old people or young children, all greeted his
> father as they passed him by. “Do you
> 
> know all these people?” he asked his father. “No, my son,” replied Siyyid
> Muhammad. “Do you suppose everybody knows who you are?” enquired
> the boy. “No, I do not think so,” was the answer. “Then how is it,” asked the
> boy in surprise, “that everyone we meet greets you on the streets?” Siyyid
> Muhammad smiled and said: “The reason, my son, is that I love everybody,
> and they can probably feel it.”
> Note: One or two points mentioned in this account come from a published talk
> given by Siyyid Muhammad’s son, General Nuri’d-Dín ‘Ala’í, as well as from
> incidents related to me by my grandmother, Siyyid Muhammad’s wife.—G.F.
> 
> Methods of teaching
> ‘Abdu’l-Baha once sent Siyyid Asadu’llah-i-Qumí to teach the Faith in
> Qarabagh, a province of Caucasia, where there were no Baha’ís at that time.
> The Master told him not to come away from Qarabagh until he had brought
> at least one person into the Faith.
> Siyyid Asadu’llah travelled throughout the length and breadth of
> Qarabagh, going from town to town and village to village, but nowhere did
> he find anyone to whom he could speak of the new Cause. The people of
> Qarabagh were not only steeped in all kinds of superstitions, but were also
> ignorant of the most basic principles of Islam, the Faith they professed.
> Even the very name of the Prophet was unknown to most of them. Siyyid
> Asadu’llah also noticed that the majority of the people in Qarabagh carried
> daggers or knives with which they would confront anyone who dared to
> displease them with his speech.
> After travelling from place to place and failing to find any soul to whom
> he could convey the Message of Baha’u’llah, Siyyid Asadu’llah lost all hope
> of teaching in Qarabagh and reluctantly decided to leave the place. Having
> made this decision, he sat down beside a running brook under the shade of
> a tree and thought of having his lunch before leaving. He put his bread on a
> handkerchief spread on the ground before him, washed a piece of cheese
> and a bunch of grapes which he had purchased, and prepared to eat. But
> his mind was not at rest and his thoughts dwelt upon his sad
> 
> disappointment in having failed to teach the Cause in Qarabagh. Above all,
> he wondered how he could ever report this to ‘Abdu’l-Baha, recalling the
> Master’s words that he should bring at least one person into the Faith
> before leaving. A sense of utter misery gradually descended upon him and
> tears flowed down his cheeks onto his long beard.
> It was the hour of noon and no passer-by interrupted the quiet of the
> lane, so Siyyid Asadu’llah wept freely, little realizing that he was being
> watched by a shopkeeper from across the road. The shopkeeper, Mashhadí
> ‘Abdil by name, was touched by the state in which he saw Siyyid Asadu’llah
> and, coming forward, enquired about the cause of his sorrow. This
> question, coming from an utter stranger, only helped to increase Siyyid
> Asadu’llah’s tears and he could give no reply. Mashhadí ‘Abdil was greatly
> moved. He begged Siyyid Asadu’llah to confide in him, vowing to do all in
> his power to remove the burden which weighed so heavily on his heart. To
> this Siyyid Asadu’llah sadly replied: “It is not easy to remove the cause of
> my sorrow, and I do not see how anyone can help me in solving my
> difficulty.” Mashhadí ‘Abdil said: “I am a man of honour and I pledge my
> word that I will do anything I can to help you. Are you in need of money?
> Do you have a debt to pay? Or perhaps you have an enemy? Confide in me
> and have no fear.” At last Siyyid Asadu’llah, impressed by the man’s
> sincerity, said: “What I have to say cannot be told here in the street.”
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil immediately conducted Siyyid Asadu’llah to his dwelling
> place and there, in the privacy of his home, he was very gradually given the
> Message of the New Day and told why Siyyid Asadu’llah was so sad at the
> thought of leaving Qarabagh that afternoon.
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil was pure of heart and versed in the Qur’an and
> Traditions, so he did not have much difficulty in accepting the Truth. But
> no sooner had he believed in the new Faith than he thought of publicly
> announcing the advent of the Promised One to all the people in Qarabagh.
> In vain did Siyyid Asadu’llah warn him against the consequences of such an
> act. In vain did he beg him to search for receptive souls before delivering
> the Message. “I know my countrymen,” said Mashhadí ‘Abdil. “They are all
> simple people who will not fail to see the Truth. I have no doubt
> 
> that they will willingly accept the Promised One when they hear of His
> advent.”
> Siyyid Asadu’llah, having lost all hope of persuading Mashhadí ‘Abdil to
> take a wiser course of action, requested him to refrain from making
> mention of his new-found Faith for at least two days during which time he
> could be instructed in the teachings and given sufficient proofs by which to
> satisfy others of the truth of the new Cause.
> In the course of these two days Siyyid Asadu’llah taught Mashhadí ‘Abdil
> the history and teachings of the Faith, pointed out to him logical proofs by
> which he could establish the truth of the Cause, and referred to certain
> passages to be found in the Qur’an and Traditions concerning the Twin
> Messengers Who had appeared. On the third day he bade farewell to
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil and left Qarabagh after having warned his friend once
> more that the manner in which he had chosen to bring the message of the
> new Faith to the attention of the people in his town was unwise and would
> not achieve the required result.
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil, however, was full of confidence. He decided to
> announce the advent of the new Age on the following market day when a
> great crowd from the villages around, as well as from the town itself,
> gathered in a large square to sell their goods or purchase their
> requirements for the week.
> The appointed day arrived and Mashhadí ‘Abdil climbed onto a raised
> platform in the middle of the square where all could see him. He called
> aloud upon the crowd to draw near and, as he was a well-known person in
> the town, many people immediately gathered round him to hear what he
> had to say. Mashhadí ‘Abdil called again and again until all left their work
> and came to hear him. “I testify that there is no god but God,” commenced
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil. “I testify that Muhammad is the Messenger of God and
> that ‘Alí, the Commander of the Faithful, is the Guardian of the Cause of
> God.” He then recited a poem in praise of the Prophet and Imams, after
> which he added: “I bring you the glad tidings that the Promised One has
> appeared out of Shíraz ….” He could get no further, for the first blow from
> the crowd knocked him down unconscious.
> When Mashhadí ‘Abdil opened his eyes he found that he was lying in a
> strange place and could not move a limb. His audience
> 
> had not spared him in any way, beating him until they thought he was dead.
> Some relatives had then tied him to a horse and secretly brought him to a
> safe hiding place outside the town, leaving only a close friend to stay with
> him until he regained consciousness.
> As soon as he could gather his thoughts, Mashhadí ‘Abdil realized what
> had happened and remembered the repeated warnings of Siyyid
> Asadu’llah. He now understood the wisdom of his teacher’s words and
> decided to accept the advice he had given. Turning to the faithful friend
> who now sat beside him, he asked what had happened to him and why he
> was lying in that strange place. His friend reminded him of his speech in
> the market place but Mashhadí ‘Abdil denied the whole incident saying: “It
> is impossible that I should have said such a thing. How can you accuse me
> of such foolish conduct?” His friend, thinking that he had either lost his
> memory or that a momentary madness had come over him in the market
> square, made no further reference to the incident.
> When Mashhadí ‘Abdil was eventually able to go back to his work, this
> friend sat in his shop for a few days and whispered to all who passed by to
> make no mention of what had happened in the presence of Mashhadí
> ‘Abdil, for he had not been in his right mind when he spoke to the crowd
> and had now forgotten all about the incident.
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil, in the meantime, grown wiser through his sad
> experience, tried to follow the instructions of Siyyid Asadu’llah and
> searched for pure souls to whom he could deliver the Message which the
> multitude had rejected. It was not long before he could confide in a friend,
> and then in a few others. Gradually a small group of believers was formed
> who would gather very secretly to hold meetings and discuss the Cause. It
> was not possible for them, however, to conceal their Faith indefinitely, and
> it was whispered around that Mashhadí ‘Abdil had indeed become a Babí
> and was secretly engaged in converting others to the new Faith.
> This rumour was one day brought to the attention of Hasan Big, a man
> renowned for his boldness of manner and known to draw his dagger on the
> slightest pretext. He, moreover, belonged to a well-known and influential
> tribe whom none cared to displease. After being informed that Mashhadí
> ‘Abdil had become a Babí, Hasan Big was also told that those who accepted
> this new Faith
> 
> denied the existence of God and denounced the Prophet and Imams,
> mentioning their names in disrespect. Hasan Big was so enraged by what
> he heard that he immediately set out to find Mashhadí ‘Abdil.
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil was sitting in his shop as usual when the figure of
> Hasan Big, with drawn dagger, appeared in the doorway. “Is it true,
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil,” he thundered, “that you are a Babí and have no respect
> for the Prophet and our Imams?” Mashhadí ‘Abdil had no doubt but that
> the hour of his death was at hand, yet he somehow managed to persuade
> Hasan Big to sit down and hear what he had to say. He told him that the
> Baha’ís believed in God and the Prophet Muhammad, and had the greatest
> respect for all the Imams. He then went on to tell him more about the Faith
> and, to his surprise, Hasan Big listened with great interest.
> One hour passed, then two, and still Mashhadí ‘Abdil spoke and Hasan
> Big listened. Three hours passed. Hasan Big, who had come to Mashhadí
> ‘Abdil with a drawn dagger that morning, rose to go at noon firmly
> convinced of the truth of the new Cause.
> Having accepted the Faith, he now drew his dagger once more and
> stepped into the market. “Hear me O people!” he called. “Hear what I have
> to say! Mashhadí ‘Abdil is in truth a Babí, so are a few others ….” He
> proceeded to name them one by one. “What is more, I myself have today
> accepted the new Faith, and I solemnly swear that anyone who dares to
> insult Mashhadí ‘Abdil or any other fellow-believer of mine will feel the
> point of my dagger!”
> No one dared to provoke the displeasure of Hasan Big, and so at last the
> Baha’ís in Qarabagh were able to confess their Faith and bring it to the
> attention of others.
> Note: The two sons of Mashhadí ‘Abdil’s trusted friend, who had stayed with
> him and nursed him after the beating he had received, both became Baha’ís.
> 
> The Bahá’í Centre
> When the Baha’ís in Qarabagh were, at long last, able to meet without
> fear of persecution, and a number of other people were enquiring about
> their Faith, they decided they needed a proper
> 
> Centre for their gatherings. The few places they could find, however, were
> either unsuitable for the purpose or much more expensive than they could
> afford.
> There was one place, in particular, which they all thought would make
> an ideal Baha’í Centre. It was a beautiful building which was going up in a
> very good locality—but, of course, they would never be able to afford it.
> Dadash ‘Amu, a renowned gambler, was building this place as a gambling
> house and hoped to make a fortune out of it. The Baha’ís had no hope of
> ever getting the building unless a real miracle should happen.
> The miracle, strangely enough, did take place. Dadash ‘Amu became a
> Baha’í before the building was finished, and he donated it as the first Baha’í
> Centre in Qarabagh.
> 
> “You are right!”
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil, who was known as a Baha’í wherever he went in
> Qarabagh, happened to be walking in a small village one day when a man
> stopped him saying: “Come with me to the mosque, if you dare, so that the
> priest can refute your arguments in front of all the villagers, and stop poor,
> simple folk from listening to you.”
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil followed the man to a large mosque packed with
> people. No sooner had they gone through the door, when Mashhadí ‘Abdil’s
> companion called to the priest and said: “I have brought you a Babí!”
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil wondered what kind of a response such a revelation would
> evoke. To his surprise, the mulla, who sat high on top of the pulpit with a
> huge turban on his head, started to finger his rosary and repeat: “Praised
> be God, praised be God, praised be God ….” This went on for so long that
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil, losing his patience, decided to disregard the rules of
> etiquette and be the first to speak. “May I have the honour of knowing your
> name, reverend priest?” he said in Turkish, the native tongue of the
> villagers. The mulla paused, then gave a nervous cough and said: “My
> name is Mulla Usup.” Mashhadí ‘Abdil could immediately tell from his
> accent and his mispronunciation of the name ‘Yusuf’ that the man was one
> of those illiterate charlatans who sometimes came over from Persia and
> pretended to be a
> 
> clergyman in these far off places in order to get free board and lodging for a
> few months, and gather money from the simple villagers. “I am quite
> relieved at finding out who you are,” said Mashhadí ‘Abdil, and the
> charlatan, realizing that he could not fool the newcomer, said in his own
> native tongue: “For the love of God, do not give me away in front of these
> people.” “I shall not give you away,” replied Mashhadí ‘Abdil, speaking in
> Persian too, so that none of the others could understand, “but you must
> promise to agree with all I say.” “I promise,” said the charlatan.
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil, addressing the mulla in Turkish this time, so that the
> congregation could follow their conversation, said: “I have been telling
> these people that the Muslims are expecting the coming of a great Teacher;
> am I right or wrong?” “You are right!” was the prompt reply. “I tell them
> that when this great Teacher appears, the Muslims themselves may be the
> first to denounce Him and start persecuting Him; am I right?” The
> turbaned head nodded several times in agreement. “I have also told them,”
> went on Mashhadí ‘Abdil, “that according to the definite prophecies
> recorded in the holy Scriptures of Islam, the worst enemies of the Promised
> One will he the Muslim clergymen; am I right or wrong?” “You are right,
> you are right!” proclaimed the sage from the pulpit.
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil, now turning to the man who had brought him to the
> mosque, said: “Do you see how your honoured priest agrees with all I say?”
> The man could only stare in open-mouthed astonishment as Mashhadí
> ‘Abdil rose to leave the place.
> 
> An illiterate teacher and his learned pupil
> A group of learned divines stopped at the shop of a poor, illiterate man
> to nail the shoe of one of the donkeys on which they rode. These
> dignitaries of Islam were on their way to visit a sacred shrine which lay
> beyond the gates of Tihran, and which they were in the habit of visiting on
> Fridays.
> But this Friday was to be different from other days, for among those
> who entered the blacksmith’s shop was Abu’l-Fadl, who was to become one
> of the greatest scholars of the Baha’í world, and the man who attended to
> the donkey’s shoe was the one who was
> 
> destined to rend asunder the veils of tradition which so enveloped the mind
> of Abu’l-Fadl as to prevent him from investigating the new Cause.
> “Is it true, O learned divine,” asked the blacksmith of Abu’l-Fadl as he
> worked on the donkey’s shoe, “that it is recorded in our traditions that
> every raindrop is brought down to earth by an angel from the sky?” “Yes,”
> replied Abu’l-Fadl, “it is true.”
> The blacksmith went on with his work. He picked up a nail and
> hammered it into place. Then he said: “I have heard that, according to our
> traditions, no angel ever enters a house where there is a dog. Is there
> indeed such a tradition?” “There is,” replied Abu’l-Fadl. The blacksmith
> hammered in the last nail and said: “I presume that no raindrops ever fall
> in a place where there is a dog.”
> Abu’l-Fadl felt hot with shame and embarrassment as he realized that
> an illiterate man had had to point out to him the obvious conclusion to be
> derived from the two well-known traditions. As he left the shop and joined
> his learned companions, one of them said: “The man you were talking to is
> a Babí.”
> That same evening Abu’l-Fadl began investigating the new Faith.
> 
> The final proof
> When Abu’l-Fadl started to investigate the Baha’í Faith, he had many
> questions to ask concerning problems which perplexed him but, being
> endowed with justice, he was prepared to accept the logical answers given
> him, even though the Baha’ís he first came in touch with were far less
> learned than he was.
> While still engaged in studying the Faith, Abu’l-Fadl one day found
> himself discussing the new Cause in the house of a famous religious
> dignitary where a few other people were also present. The important
> clergyman, proud of his own position, attacked the Faith and tried to
> belittle it in the eyes of his guests, while Abu’l-Fadl, producing the fruit of
> his own investigations, gave convincing answers he himself had received to
> similar arguments. He expressed his views with such enthusiasm and
> sincerity that his host thought him to be a Baha’í.
> Unable to refute the learned arguments of Abu’l-Fadl, the religious
> 
> dignitary tried to frighten him into silence. “Listen to me, Abu’l-Fadl!” he
> said in an authoritative voice. “There is one way of proving truth from
> falsehood and that is by producing a miracle. If you are convinced of the
> truth of this Cause, bring us a miracle to prove it, or else I shall myself
> perform a miracle to convince you of its falsehood!” “I am greatly indebted
> to you for what you say,” Abu’l-Fadl eagerly replied, “for you have offered to
> solve my difficultly. I have, in accordance with my obligation as a Muslim,
> started to investigate this Faith and am now finding it extremely difficult to
> denounce it as false though I am not completely convinced of its truth and
> am not, therefore, in a position to produce a miracle to prove this. It is my
> religious duty to continue my search until I arrive at some definite
> conclusion and satisfy myself of its truth or falsehood. Now you offer to put
> an end to my strenuous efforts by producing a miracle which will
> immediately prove the falsehood of this Cause! I shall indeed be indebted
> to you for the rest of my life.”
> The poor clergyman had not anticipated this turn of affairs. He got up
> immediately and prepared to leave the gathering. Abu’l-Fadl caught hold of
> the hem of his garment and entreated him to stay. “Why are you leaving
> us?” he said. “Pray do not go until you have shown us the miracle!” But the
> religious dignitary, mumbling something to the effect that there was
> another man in town who could perform miracles, hurried away to take
> refuge in the section of the house reserved for the womenfolk.
> 
> Abu’l-Faḍl at home
> One of Abu’l-Fadl’s many friends and admirers has recounted the
> following:
> “I was in Samarqand when Abu’l-Fadl came to that town and, being
> eager to serve such a noble personage, I arranged to stay in the same house
> with him. To my dismay, I found that he would not let me do anything for
> him, but insisted that he, himself, should wait on me. He said: ‘You must
> promise me two things: First, that you never try to do any work for me,
> and second, that you never, never touch my penknife!’
> “Each morning, after having said his prayers, Abu’l-Fadl would
> 
> light the charcoal fire, bring the samovar to boil and prepare the tea. He
> would then bring everything into the room and serve the breakfast, after
> which I would go to my office and he would sit down to write or study. I
> said to him: ‘How can I sit idle here while you do all the work?’ He smiled
> and said: ‘I am the one who benefits by this arrangement because I get a
> chance to serve one of the servants of Baha’u’llah.’
> “One day, when Abu’l-Fadl had gone out of the room to light the
> samovar, I saw his penknife lying on his table. I looked at it and wondered
> why he had told me not to touch it. I picked it up and tried the blade which
> was so sharp that it immediately cut my finger. I quickly put the penknife
> down, wrapped my handkerchief round my bleeding finger and sat in my
> place.
> “When Abu’l-Fadl came in, he gave me one look and burst out laughing.
> ‘Did I not warn you against that penknife?’ he said.”
> *****
> Many of Abu’l-Fadl’s friends, who were aware of the vast extent of his
> knowledge, were always eager to go to him with questions on various
> subjects. Abu’l-Fadl graciously received such people in the afternoons but
> his mornings were set aside for writing and study.
> At one time, when he was staying in the Holy Land, a group of Western
> ladies, with whom he could not communicate very well as he did not speak
> their language, would go to his room every morning and take up much of
> his time. One day, however, when the ladies knocked on his door, they
> received no reply. They knocked a second time, and there was still no
> reply. They knew that Abu’l-Fadl was in, so they knocked again and again.
> At last they heard his voice from within: “Abu’l-Fadl is not here!” he
> sweetly announced in English. The ladies burst out laughing, and he, too,
> joined in their laughter.
> We do not know the end of the story, but hope that the scholar was left
> in peace to attend to his work in the mornings.
> 
> The “Bahá’í Mullá”
> The fame of Abu’l-Fadl spread in Hamadan where he had been staying
> for some time. The ignorant people spoke of him as the
> 
> mulla of the Baha’ís, and the governor of the town, hoping that he was as
> rich as a Muslim mulla, arrested him in the name of a Baha’í.
> The dozen men who were sent to bring Abu’l-Fadl from his home were
> very disappointed to see that there was nothing they could loot in the
> single room occupied by this “Baha’í mulla”. All his belongings, which were
> a few articles of clothing and some books and papers, were gathered up and
> taken away with him.
> Abu’l-Fadl was imprisoned in the house of the chief constable of
> Hamadan. During the two weeks he was there he taught the Baha’í Faith to
> his guard, who became a devoted believer, while the chief constable
> himself, who often listened to Abu’l-Fadl’s discourse with his guard from an
> adjoining room, became a great friend of the Cause and an ardent admirer
> of his prisoner.
> After a fortnight, the chief constable reported to the governor, assuring
> him that Abu’l-Fadl was quite a harmless person and, what was more
> important to the governor, that he did not have a penny to his name. He
> was therefore permitted to leave the prison on condition that he should
> also leave Hamadan.
> The guard who was taught by Abu’l-Fadl during his imprisonment took
> the new Message to the people of his own village where a strong Baha’í
> community was established.
> 
> A unique servant
> Abu’l-Fadl, who had dedicated his time and talents to the service of the
> Faith he loved so well, became extremely depressed after the passing of
> Baha’u’llah, so much so that he spent much time alone in sorrow,
> wondering what would now become of the Cause of Baha’u’llah and who
> would guide His followers.
> After some time he received a letter from ‘Abdu’l-Baha, calling upon him
> to rise up once more to serve the Cause of his Beloved and not to be
> disheartened because Baha’u’llah had left this earth, for He would always
> watch over His Faith and protect it. ‘Abdu’l-Baha explained how the Cause
> of God, far from weakening, grew in strength and flourished after the
> passing of His Messengers because the people of the world could not often
> recognize the Messenger of God while He was with them on
> 
> earth and it was only after He had left them that they came to see the signs
> of His greatness.
> This letter from the Master filled Abu’l-Fadl with fresh zeal and he came
> out of his retreat, never again to leave the field of service. But it was after
> he had gone to the Holy Land and visited ‘Abdu’l-Baha in person that he
> realized what a mighty stronghold Baha’u’llah had built to protect His
> Cause when He appointed His beloved Son as the Centre of His Covenant to
> whom all His followers should turn for guidance.
> Abu’l-Fadl lost his heart completely to ‘Abdul-Baha. After a stay of ten
> months in the Holy Land, he was filled with such devotion for the Master
> that he sang the praises of ‘Abdu’l-Baha wherever he went. He told of the
> Master’s flowing love towards both friends and enemies. He recounted
> how, in the poorest quarters of Acre and the remotest corners of the prison,
> men and women who were deprived of all the bounties of life listened for
> His footsteps and derived blessing from the sunshine of His presence. He
> spoke of ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s king-like majesty and of His great humility; of His
> knowledge, His patience and generosity; of His sweetness and His
> wonderful humour.
> An American lady, who met Abu’l-Fadl while he was in America and
> heard him talk of ‘Abdu’l-Baha, has said: “One day, after I had listened to
> Abu’l-Fadl speak of the Master, I went to him and said: ‘I cannot imagine
> anyone to be more learned, more pure and loving than yourself, yet you are
> always telling us of ‘Abdu’l-Baha. What must He be like who has created
> such admiration in your heart!’ Abu’l-Fadl looked at me and said: ‘No one
> can befittingly describe Him. If you ever meet ‘Abdu’l-Baha, you will see
> that I am not fit to be His servant!’ I often thought of these words until the
> time when the Master came to America and I had the privilege of meeting
> Him myself. Only then did I realize what Abu’l-Fadl had meant.”
> 
> The murder in ‘Ishqábád
> Hají Muhammad-Rida was passing through the market place in
> ‘Ishqabad when he was attacked by two ruffians and killed on the
> 
> spot. Over five hundred people stood by and watched him being stabbed—
> not once but thirty-two times!
> Most of those who saw Muhammad-Rida being martyred that day
> belonged to the Shí‘ah* population of ‘Ishqabad who had plotted against the
> Baha’ís for a long time, hoping that they could start persecutions here as in
> Persia. They had singled out Muhammad-Rida, who was much loved and
> respected among the Baha’ís, as their first victim.
> The government of the Tsar was quick in seizing the two murderers and
> taking them to prison where they were to await their trial, yet so fierce was
> the hatred of the merchants in the market place that none of the Baha’ís
> dared to go near the corpse of their fellow-believer and it lay on the road
> for several hours. A brave young man eventually came forward and, amid
> the jeers, the ridicule and curses of the people around him, lifted the body
> onto his own shoulders and carried it to a place of safety from where it was
> secretly taken away in the dead of night and buried out of town.
> The Shí‘ahs, in the meantime, threatened to kill twenty-four other
> Baha’ís. They sent messages to Persia asking the clergy for their support
> and spread rumours that the Russian Government had no jurisdiction over
> the Muslims in ‘Ishqabad as they were Persian citizens. The majority of the
> ignorant and fanatical people among them were stirred up by a few
> malicious enemies of the Cause who spread the usual false reports about
> the Baha’ís and their beliefs, and made every attempt to keep ablaze the
> fervour of religious hatred until they had rid themselves of the Baha’ís in
> ‘Ishqabad.
> The Baha’ís showed extraordinary courage as they went about their
> business in the town, but by the second day after the martyrdom of
> Muhammad-Rida, when a number of ruffians had armed themselves and
> were preparing to attack other Baha’ís, it became evident that they should
> seek protection from the government. A few of them, whose lives were in
> immediate danger, went to see the governor. He received them with
> kindness and listened to their appeal. After they had explained the
> situation to him, the governor said: “I have been told that Hají Muhammad-
> 
> *
> A sect of Islam.
> Rida, being a Baha’í, has cursed the Imams of the Muslims, and the two
> men, unable to bear the insult, have stabbed him in their anger. Is it true
> that Baha’ís have no respect for the leaders of Islam?” “We have been living
> among you for a number of years,” the Baha’ís replied, “and we have many
> Christian friends in this country. You should ask them whether they have
> ever heard us utter a disrespectful word about the religious leaders of
> Islam, for if we were to speak ill of the Imams in front of Muslims, would we
> not speak more freely in the presence of Christians who do not believe in
> them?” They then explained that this was a trick which had been used in
> Persia for many years, as it was one of the easiest ways of instigating a
> fanatical mob against the Baha’ís. Now that the people of Persia were
> getting to know that Baha’ís respect the leaders of all religions, the enemies
> of the Faith were trying out this trick in ‘Ishqabad.
> The next day brought a change in the atmosphere of the town. The
> government authorities started investigations, and many of the Christians
> who were well aware of the cruelties being inflicted on the Baha’ís by the
> Muslim population came forward to throw light on the true situation. A
> number of the enemies of the new Faith, afraid of the consequences, fled
> the town. Some of the chief instigators of the plot against the Baha’ís were
> found and imprisoned, while others took refuge in Persia from where,
> backed by some of the clergy, they sent threatening messages to the Baha’ís
> in ‘Ishqabad and spread rumours of how this or that great personage was
> being sent from Persia to take the Baha’ís of ‘Ishqabad (mostly Persian
> citizens) in chains to their own country. Various measures were taken by
> the Muslims to frighten the Baha’ís and force them to leave ‘Ishqabad, but
> the Baha’ís put their trust in God and stayed, though they did not know
> what was to happen to them from day to day.
> At last, the preliminary investigations being finished in ‘Ishqabad, the
> governor’s report was sent to the capital and instructions arrived in due
> course. There was to be a military trial which meant that the decisions of
> the court would be final and no appeals could be made. Even the Tsar
> himself was not able to change the decisions of a military court. This
> information immediately spread throughout the town and every heart was
> filled with fear, as no one could tell what the outcome of this trial would be.
> 
> About one hundred and fifty people were summoned to attend the
> court, and the day of the trial saw a commotion the like of which was
> seldom seen in ‘Ishqabad. The trial lasted for three days, while the
> atmosphere of the court grew more and more tense with each passing
> hour, until the feeling of suspended doom spread over the entire
> population of the town.
> The decision of the judges had not yet been announced, when an
> irresponsible person left the courtroom and told a friend that the Muslim
> prisoners were to be set free. This information immediately spread in the
> market place, and the Muslims came out of their shops and houses to
> celebrate the occasion. They gathered in groups to welcome the prisoners,
> and inflicted untold suffering on the Baha’ís they came across. But within
> an hour, when the true verdict of the judges was announced, their joy was
> turned to grief. The two murderers of Hají Muhammad-Rida had been
> sentenced to be hanged. The clergyman who had denounced the Baha’ís
> from the pulpit and encouraged the mob to rise against them had received
> life imprisonment in Siberia; three of the men who had plotted against the
> Baha’ís were to be imprisoned in Siberia for fifteen years; and a fourth man
> was sentenced to one year and four months in prison, after which he was to
> leave Russia. The governor residing in ‘Ishqabad, however, was given the
> right to reduce the severity of these sentences if he so wished. Only two of
> those who had been arrested were found to be innocent and set free.
> As soon as the court adjourned, the prisoners sent messages to their
> relatives entreating them to ask the Baha’ís to intervene on their behalf and
> beg the governor to reduce their sentences. A delegation of the Muslims
> came to plead with the Baha’ís, who generously responded and promised to
> do what they could.
> Abu’l-Fadl, who was in ‘Ishqabad at the time, and another well-known
> Baha’í, both of whom had seen the governor after the martyrdom of Hají
> Muhammad-Rida to ask protection for the Baha’ís, set out to visit him once
> more. The governor was deeply moved when he heard that the Baha’ís had
> sent them to make a plea on behalf of their oppressors. “If a Baha’í had
> killed a Muslim in ‘Ishqabad,” he said, “would not all the Baha’ís in Persia
> have been massacred by now? Yet you are prepared to forgive these
> murderers and ask me to reduce their punishment! Greatly though I
> admire
> 
> your sentiments,” he added, “I can promise you nothing at present.”
> The next day, however, it was made known to the people of the town
> that the governor had shortened the terms of the imprisonments in Siberia,
> though he had shown no mercy towards the two who had murdered
> Muhammad-Rida, and the day for their hanging had already been fixed.
> As the appointed day approached, the murderers were brought out to
> erect their own gallows outside the prison and to dig a deep pit under it
> with their own hands. It was a pitiful sight, and many hearts were
> saddened at the thought of the terrible death which awaited the wretched
> men. The fatal day saw hundreds of curious people gathered outside the
> prison to watch the awful event. The gallows were surrounded by a ring of
> soldiers and precautions were taken to control the mob, but there were
> many eyes that flashed with anger and lips that muttered curses against the
> Baha’ís, whom they blamed for what was about to befall the two Muslims.
> A priest performed the last religious rites and the hangman had put the
> loops round the necks of the victims, when a voice suddenly broke through
> the deathlike silence which had descended on the crowd. An order had
> been received from the governor and was being read aloud. The people of
> ‘Ishqabad were thereby informed that, as the Baha’ís themselves had
> appealed to the governor and begged him to spare the lives of the two men
> who had murdered their friend and fellow-believer, the governor, having
> decided to honour this noble act, had changed the death sentence to fifteen
> years of imprisonment in Siberia.
> For the first time in the history of the Baha’í Faith, the relentless
> persecutors of its followers had been taken to court and had received
> punishment for their crimes.
> 
> Meetings in Ṭihrán
> The arrival of a pilgrim from the Holy Land* has always been a
> 
> *
> Baha’u’llah was exiled to the Holy Land, where He lived to the end of His life.
> His remains were laid to rest near Acre. The remains of His Herald, the Bab,
> were buried on Mount Carmel, across the bay from Acre. ‘Abdul-Baha, Who had
> gone into exile with His Father, remained in the Holy Land after Baha’u’llah
> passed away.
> great event for the Baha’ís in Persia. From early morning till late at night
> the pilgrim is surrounded by eager friends who long to hear every single
> item of news and to listen to all the wonderful experiences their fellow-
> believer has had during his pilgrimage. Meetings are held where crowds of
> Baha’ís gather from far and near to meet the blessed pilgrim who brings
> them tidings from the Holy Land.
> This is true even today when dozens of pilgrims go back to Persia every
> year. One can imagine what it must have been like in the days of
> Baha’u’llah and ‘Abdu’l-Baha when only a few fortunate ones could have
> the privilege of visiting the Holy Land and carrying back with them news of
> the Beloved to hundreds of expectant lovers throughout Persia. But the
> Baha’ís there have never been permitted by the authorities to hold
> meetings or even gather freely in private homes to meet with each other.
> In the days of Baha’u’llah and the Master restrictions were far more severe,
> and the least indiscretion on the part of the Baha’ís brought about all forms
> of persecutions.
> At such a time, a very distinguished teacher of the Faith, Mírza Mahmud-
> i-Furughí, arrived in Tihran after a long stay with ‘Abdu’l-Baha. The news
> of his arrival immediately spread among the believers who, in their
> eagerness to receive news about the Master, forgot all caution and gathered
> in large numbers to meet Furughí. Every little thing he had seen or heard
> during his pilgrimage was of interest to his friends, but more than this, he
> had brought them wonderful, inspiring messages from the Master Himself.
> These were like the breath of life to those who heard them; it filled them
> with fresh zeal and courage to serve the Cause and bring happiness to the
> heart of their beloved Master. The gatherings grew in size; no price
> seemed too great to pay for the joy of hearing the messages of ‘Abdu’l-Baha.
> The enemies of the Cause, who were always on the alert, were now
> filled with rage to see the boldness with which the Baha’ís gathered to hear
> a pilgrim from the Holy Land. They lost no time in bringing this to the
> attention of Prince Kamran Mírza,* the viceroy, filling him, no doubt, with
> grave forebodings regarding the intentions of the Baha’ís. Kamran Mírza
> immediately asked
> 
> *
> ‘Mírza’ at the end of a name is a title given to the descendants of the Qajar
> dynasty.
> some of his servants to seek further information about the meetings. These
> men managed to find out where the Baha’ís were gathering on a certain day
> and followed them to a secluded garden so as to ascertain their numbers.
> They had no difficulty in doing this because they had merely to count the
> pairs of shoes which had been removed at the entrance to the meeting
> place. There were almost nine hundred pairs!
> This news was quite sufficient to cause Kamran Mírza the greatest
> anxiety. Could the Baha’ís be plotting against the government? Were they
> planning to overthrow their enemies? He decided to send for Furughí and
> find out from him in person. Furughí received the message calmly but the
> rest of the Baha’ís were greatly concerned. Many of them begged him not
> to go, for they anticipated great danger awaiting him in the house of
> Kamran Mírza. Furughí, however, knew no fear and set out to visit the
> viceroy. One of the Baha’ís, Khammar by name, who was known for his
> courage and who was, moreover, famous for the wild and reckless life he
> had led before his recent conversion to the Faith, accompanied Furughí and
> walked on in front holding the bridle of his horse.
> At the gate of the viceroy’s mansion, Furughí was told that Kamran
> Mírza was very busy and could not meet him till the following day. He went
> back on the morrow and received the same message: the prince was busy
> with urgent matters and could not see him that day. Furughí would not be
> put off, and one of his friends remarked:
> Hunters have always chased their prey, There’s nothing strange in
> that, ’Tis fun to see the prey, for once, Chasing the dreaded hunter!
> Furughí went back a third time, accompanied by the faithful Khammar.
> This time the prince received him, exclaiming: “What a fearless fellow you
> are!”
> Furughí’s outward appearance in itself was enough to persuade anyone
> of his utter lack of fear. Clothed in the robes of a scholar, he had a pleasing
> countenance, and a thick black beard. His piercing eyes could flash fire at
> times, and his voice, if raised, could arouse fear in any heart.
> 
> Kamran Mírza received him with courtesy. He ordered a carpet to be
> spread for them in the garden and a tray of lettuce to be served with sour-
> sweet syrup, according to the Persian custom. Then, turning to Furughí, he
> said: “Tell me, are you really a Babí?” “I am no Babí,” was the reply, “I am a
> Baha’í, so were my father and my mother.” This was the introduction to a
> long discussion on the Faith. Once, when Kamran Mírza referred to
> Baha’u’llah in a disrespectful manner, Furughí’s eyes flashed with anger.
> “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he told the prince, “to mention the
> name of the Messenger of God in this rude manner.” Then, reaching out for
> the knife which had been brought for the lettuce, he cried: “Give me that
> knife so that I may cut my throat and let you drink the blood of a Baha’í for
> which you are thirsting.” His words had a profound effect and the prince
> took care not to hurt his feelings any more.
> Kamran Mírza eventually brought up the subject of the large gathering
> of Baha’ís which had come to his knowledge, and expressed his concern lest
> the Baha’ís should cause disturbances in the country. “Our meetings are
> held to prevent mischief,” Furughí answered him, “for we have all types of
> people in this Faith and unless they are always reminded about the
> teachings of Baha’u’llah, and their duties as peaceful and loyal citizens of
> the country in which they live, we cannot be sure that some misinformed
> individual will not become the cause of disturbance in the land. This did
> happen once in the early days of the Faith when a young Babí who was
> ignorant of the teachings of the Bab made an attempt on the life of His
> Majesty the Shah. But such behaviour has never been repeated among us
> for the Baha’ís are continually reminded in our meetings that, according to
> the teachings of Baha’u’llah, they should be obedient to the government
> and respect the authorities of the land. We are doing you a great service by
> holding these meetings.” Furughí’s words produced the desired effect. “I
> did not know of your intention,” said Kamran Mírza . “Now that I am
> reassured, you can hold as many meetings as you like.”
> Furughí rose to go and take the wonderful news to the believers. As he
> was walking towards the garden gate, a figure stepped out in front of him
> from behind a tree. It was Khammar. “What on earth were you hiding here
> for?” asked Furughí in surprise. “I was not
> 
> sure what Kamran Mírza had in mind for you,” said Khammar, “so I was
> aiming at him with my pistol to be prepared in case he wished to harm you.”
> Then, as an after thought, he enquired: “Do you think God would have
> forgiven me if I had shot Kamran Mírza under the circumstances?” “To tell
> you the truth,” replied Furughí, “I do not know, but I promise to get you the
> answer from ‘Abdu’l-Baha.”
> ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s answer was given in a very interesting way, but that in
> itself is another story. We will end this one by saying that the Baha’ís, when
> they heard about Furughí’s visit with Kamran .Mírza, needed no further
> encouragement for their meetings. For once, at least, they could gather to
> hear a pilgrim from the Holy Land with the full permission of the
> authorities.
> 
> The miracle
> Among the people to whom the Baha’ís of Badkubih* had spoken of the
> Faith, there was a man who said he had but one difficulty in accepting the
> Cause. He agreed with all that his Baha’í friends told him and could not find
> a single fault with what they believed in. All he needed to make him a
> confirmed Baha’í, he said, was to see a miracle performed before his eyes.
> The Baha’ís, of course, did not know what to do with him. No amount of
> reasoning seemed to do any good. “I know all you say is true,” he would tell
> them, “but I must see a miracle with my own eyes before my heart can be
> truly satisfied.”
> It happened that Furughí, the famous Baha’í teacher, was visiting the
> friends of Badkubih at that time, and he was told about this man. “Bring
> him to meet me some day,” said Furughí, “and we shall see what can be
> done.” The Baha’ís hoped that Furughí, whose dynamic personality and
> powerful voice never failed to impress those who came face to face with
> him, would be able to make their friend listen to reason, so they arranged
> for someone to conduct him to Furughí’s home.
> When the two visitors arrived, they found Furughí engaged in his daily
> devotions and, not wishing to disturb him, they sat down quietly while
> their host, unaware of their presence in the room, continued with his
> prayer. The sincerity with which he prayed was
> 
> *
> Persian name for Baku.
> very touching. He was the essence of humility as he prostrated himself on
> the floor, while tears streamed down his face as he lifted it up in adoration.
> Sometimes he would chant the verses in his rich, loud voice, and sometimes
> the words could be hardly heard as he murmured them softly to himself.
> It was a long time before Furughí finished his prayers and turned round
> to see his visitors. One of them he already knew; fixing his piercing eyes on
> the other, he said: “Are you the person who wants to see a miracle?” “No …
> no, sir,” stammered the man in reply. “I … I don’t want to see any miracles.”
> “Then what is your difficulty in accepting the Cause of Baha’u’llah?”
> demanded Furughí. “Nothing, sir,” was the prompt answer. “I am quite
> convinced of the truth of this Faith, and consider myself a Baha’í from this
> day on.”
> The friend who had brought this man to meet Furughí could not believe
> his ears. Was not this the same man who had repeatedly expressed that
> nothing but a miracle performed before his own eyes could satisfy him?
> Was it not the same man whom all the Baha’ís in Badkubih had failed to
> convince with every logical argument they could think of? He could hardly
> wait until they had left Furughí’s home and were out on the street alone.
> “What happened to you?” he then asked his friend. “Why did you suddenly
> lose all your interest in miracles?” “To tell you the truth,” was the answer,
> “I had no doubt that the holy personage I saw could perform any miracle he
> chose and I did not dare displease him by asking for a demonstration ….
> Besides, I was so impressed by the manner in which he prayed that I could
> ask for no other proof concerning the truth of this Cause.”
> 
> The challenge from the pulpit
> The people of Yazd, instigated by their fanatical priests, have shown
> great enmity towards the Baha’ís, and have been responsible for the
> martyrdom of many believers.
> One day an influential religious dignitary of this town told the
> congregation who had gathered to hear his sermon in the mosque that the
> Baha’ís had succeeded in misleading only the most simple and ignorant
> people to their Faith; they never dared approach people
> 
> like himself, as they knew very well that they could not refute the
> arguments of the learned and would be put to shame.
> The Baha’ís in Yazd did not know what to do with this mujtahid,
> especially as he continued to challenge them publicly from his pulpit in the
> mosque. In the end, they decided to write to Tihran and ask for help from
> their fellow-believers in the capital. When Furughí heard of this, he longed
> to set out for Yazd and confront the mujtahid in front of his own
> supporters. This was a task after his own heart, he thought, but ‘Abdu’l-
> Baha had already asked him to go to Khurasan, and someone else would
> have to be sent to Yazd.
> Furughí was on the point of leaving for Khurasan, and had already
> packed the saddle on his mule when a telegram was handed to him. It was
> from the Master, instructing Furughí to go to Khurasan, via Yazd! He
> immediately wrote a letter to the Baha’ís of Yazd telling them that he was
> on his way to meet the mujtahid.
> One of the Baha’ís of Yazd, who knew the governor of the town, thought
> it wise to inform him of the situation before Furughí’s arrival so that he
> might know what was going on. The governor was quite disturbed at the
> news and begged the Baha’í to write to Furughí asking him to ignore the
> mujtahid’s challenge and keep away from such a dangerous interview.
> Furughí, however, having received ‘Abdu’l-Baha’s blessings on his journey
> to Yazd, was not going to be put off by anyone else. He wrote back a most
> remarkable reply to his Baha’í friend in Yazd, parts of which ran as follows:
> “It is impossible for me to forgo this meeting with the mujtahid, and I
> am quite prepared for the consequences. I shall neither state my
> knowledge of any other Baha’í in Yazd, nor do I seek help from its governor.
> I shall go straight to the door of the mosque and, if anyone should ask me
> who I am and where I come from, I shall say that I have dropped out of the
> sky and have an errand to do with the mujtahid …. Should the mujtahid be
> prepared to listen to logical and intelligent argument, I shall reason with
> him, but if he wishes me to prove my Faith by other means, I shall ask him
> to climb with me to the top of the minaret, from where we can both drop
> down to see which one of us will be able to descend unharmed; or I shall
> have fire kindled in the middle of the town square and, taking the mujtahid
> by the hand, I shall lead him into the blazing conflagration to see which of
> us can come out untouched by the flames ….”
> 
> This letter was shown to the governor who was astonished at Furughí’s
> astounding faith, and greatly admired his fearless spirit. “I shall send two
> of my servants,” he said, “to meet this man outside Yazd and conduct him
> safely to my own house; then we shall see what can be done about this
> meeting with the mujtahid.”
> Furughí arrived in Yazd as the guest of the governor. After his arrival,
> the governor himself wrote to the mujtahid stating that, as he had publicly
> challenged the Baha’ís to send someone to talk to him about their Faith, a
> learned and fearless Baha’í had been sent to meet him from Tihran with the
> permission of the government authorities. The governor also enclosed in
> his letter to the mujtahid the interesting communication which had been
> received from Furughí, written on his way to Yazd. The mujtahid
> immediately replied to say that he was not well enough to meet Furughí,
> and would be grateful if the governor himself would give him some
> satisfactory answer.
> Furughí stayed on in Yazd for a few days to see if the mujtahid would
> pluck up courage to meet him, but the religious dignitary pretended to be
> ill, even when the governor sent him a second message after some days.
> Furughí then asked his fellow-believers to arrange a large meeting to which
> every Baha’í in Yazd could bring a non-Baha’í friend. When they were all
> assembled, Furughí spoke to them about the Cause, and then told them how
> the mujtahid, who had repeatedly challenged the Baha’ís from his pulpit,
> had now refused to see him. He asked those who were present at that
> gathering to inform others of the truth of the matter, so that they would not
> listen to the mujtahid any more, should he ever dare to repeat his
> challenge.
> 
> Furúghí’s turn
> “Have you ever been beaten for the sake of the Cause?” ‘Abdu’l-Baha
> asked Furughí one day. “Not yet, my Master,” Furughí replied. “You know
> that His Holiness the Bab and Baha’u’llah were both beaten,” the Master
> told him, “and, I, too, have had my share.” Furughí knew that his turn was
> soon to come.
> It was not long after this that, going back to Persia, Furughí was
> 
> asked to perform a Baha’í marriage in Abadih, a place near Shíraz. The
> mullas of Abadih immediately complained to the governor. “The Baha’ís,”
> they said, “have now grown so bold as to perform their marriage ceremony
> in accordance with new customs which are against the laws of Islam! Such
> insolence cannot be endured. Unless the governor makes sure that they are
> punished at once, we ourselves will have to see to the matter.”
> The governor, fearing lest great mischief be stirred up by the fanatics,
> sent two of his servants to bring Furughí to his presence. A large crowd of
> people immediately gathered in the streets and on the rooftops, armed
> with sticks and stones, hoping for an excuse to attack this famous Baha’í
> teacher. But as Furughí was accompanied by the governor’s servants, none
> dared to raise his hand against him until he happened to pass by a
> madrasih where religious dignitaries taught theology and Islamic law.
> Here, one of the divines suddenly sprang forward and, taking hold of
> Furughí’s beard with one hand, struck him on the head and face with the
> other. “What are you waiting for, you cowards?” he cried to those standing
> around. The crowd needed no further encouragement; they attacked
> Furughí from all sides, those standing on the rooftops throwing dust and
> ashes on his head. But before they could do him any serious injury, he was
> rescued from the mob by a group of armed soldiers who conducted him to
> the governor.
> Now it happened that while Furughí was in Tihran, he had visited the
> Prime Minister and, having charmed him with his eloquent and impressive
> manner of speech, had then told him of the many enemies he was
> confronted with wherever he travelled in Persia. “The only thing which can
> save me from their hands,” he had told the Prime Minister, “is a letter
> signed by your Highness, instructing the government officials to protect me
> from the machinations of my enemies in different parts of the country.”
> The Prime Minister had given him the letter he had asked for and Furughí
> now showed it to the governor of Abadih.
> The governor, however, had limited powers when opposed by the
> clergy, so he advised Furughí to leave the town immediately and sent two
> of his horsemen to accompany him to a nearby village. As they were
> passing the gate which led out of the town, a woman who had come to
> know that Furughí would be taken that way threw
> 
> a heap of ashes on him from overhead. Although she did not know it, this
> woman saved his life by what she did, for the ashes blinded the eyes of two
> fanatical mullas who were waiting behind the gate to shoot Furughí as he
> passed by. These two men later visited Furughí in the village and, after long
> discussions, were both impressed with Furughí’s arguments and gradually
> became convinced of the truth of the Cause.
> The beating which Furughí received at the hands of the mob in Abadih
> was but the beginning of many other hardships he was to endure for the
> sake of the Cause. But he bore them all with great courage, and delighted in
> the fact that he, too, was at last called upon to suffer calamities in the path
> of his Beloved. Once, when he was badly wounded by a couple of young
> men who were sent to shoot him in his room, his friends found him covered
> with blood, but extremely happy and chanting the words of Baha’u’llah: “If
> thine aim be to cherish thy life, approach not our court; but if sacrifice be
> thy heart’s desire, come and let others come with thee. For such is the way
> of Faith, if in thy heart thou seekest reunion with Baha; shouldst thou
> refuse to tread this path, why trouble us? Begone!”
> 
> The magician
> Furughí seemed to be leading a charmed life. Despite the many dangers
> he had been through, and the various attempts made on his life, he was still
> going about teaching the Faith after forty years.
> Quite a few people had been bribed to kill this famous Baha’í at one time
> or another, but he had somehow managed to escape them on every
> occasion. Once, when he was staying at his native village, a seditious
> mujtahid succeeded in exciting his whole congregation against Furughí.
> News had been brought of how a Baha’í had been killed in another place,
> and the mujtahid, climbing onto the pulpit and throwing down his turban
> as a sign of indignation, cried out to the assembled villagers: “Is there no
> manhood to be found in this place? Have you not heard how those valiant
> defenders of Islam have torn the accursed Babí to pieces? Where is your
> courage? Where is your zeal for your religion? How long are you going to
> 
> tolerate these infidels in your midst? How long will you cowards sit back
> and watch that dog of a Babí misleading people in your own village?” He
> went on and on until he obtained the desired result and his congregation
> swore they would tear Furughí apart, limb from limb.
> As the howling, bloodthirsty mob rushed towards Furughí’s house like
> an angry flood let suddenly loose, people swore he was doomed to die this
> time. Providence, however, had decreed otherwise, and before the savage
> crowd could reach its destination, another mujtahid, just as influential as
> the first, appeared on the scene. “Do you realize what you are doing, foolish
> people?” he shouted. “This man you have come to kill is no ordinary Babí .
> He has many friends among the high officials of the country, and even the
> Prime Minister himself is ready to support him. If anything should happen
> to him, not one of you will be able to escape with your life!” The immediate
> danger facing them in this world seemed more real to the disappointed
> crowd than the delights of paradise promised by the first mujtahid if they
> succeeded in killing the Babí, so they reluctantly dispersed to their homes,
> and left Furughí to go about unmolested.
> On another occasion, Furughí’s desperate enemies decided to enlist the
> help of a notorious gangster named Siyyid Hasan who was the leader of a
> group of criminals and was feared by all in the neighbourhood. “God will
> forgive every sin you have committed in your lifetime,” they assured Siyyid
> Hasan, “if you will undertake the meritorious act of killing this Babí
> teacher.” Siyyid Hasan, determined to win the pleasures of the next world
> as well as this, set about to do some careful planning. When everything was
> ready, he sent one of his men to fetch Furughí from his home after sunset
> and bring him to a place outside the village.
> Furughí himself opened the door. “Come out at once!” the man ordered
> him. “Siyyid Hasan has sent for you.” Furughí knew what this meant, but
> without raising any objection asked: “Could you please wait a minute while
> I fetch my cloak and walking stick?” “Of course not!” the man rudely
> replied. “Come immediately as you are.” He had hardly finished his
> sentence when a great noise and commotion started in the street. Two of
> Siyyid Hasan’s other men, who had just arrived on horseback to join their
> friend, were
> 
> being thrown off their seats by their horses which seemed to have suddenly
> gone wild. The animals neighed excitedly, kicked and reared in a most
> frightful manner, and their riders had great difficulty in landing on the
> ground unharmed. The men were utterly baffled by what had happened, as
> the horses had always been very tame and there was nothing to be seen in
> the street which could possibly throw them into such a state.
> In the meantime, Furughí, having quietly put on his cloak and taken his
> walking stick, was standing at the door, ready to leave. Seeing him, the men
> were suddenly full of apprehension. “You can work magic!” they cried.
> “What did you do to our horses to make them go wild? We have never
> known them to behave like this before.”
> Furughí, when given the chance, could always charm his hearers and
> these men who had come to take him to his doom were no exceptions.
> Having now subdued their horses, they rode on in front to warn their
> leader about Furughí’s unknown powers, while the victim followed at some
> distance. By the time he had reached the rendezvous, his would-be
> murderer was feeling the effects of a very exaggerated account of the kind
> of magic the famous Babí was capable of performing. Siyyid Hasan was in
> no hurry to harm him, and Furughí had ample time to talk to, and win over,
> the feared gangster.
> Calling one of his men to him, Siyyid Hasan said: “I want you to escort
> this respectable gentleman back to his house where his family may be
> anxious about his safety.” “Thank you,” said Furughí, and wisely added:
> “but it is really not necessary for me to trouble anyone here to take me
> home. I am quite sure I shall be able to find my way alone.”
> 
> Two princes
> Prince Husayn-Qulí Mírza, the great-grandson of Fath-‘Alí Shah of
> Persia, accepted the Baha’í Cause in his youth and became one of its
> staunch supporters for the rest of his life. He was a man of noble character,
> extremely courteous and gentle in his manner, with a touching humility
> which was felt by rich and poor alike. He was loved by all; people used to
> say that they could find no fault in the
> 
> prince except that he was a Baha’í. There were many, too, who were
> attracted to the Faith by the life he led and because of the love and respect
> they had for him.
> His house was open to all people, and whenever Baha’í meetings were
> held there, a great number of non-Baha’ís would always attend. On one
> such occasion, when every seat in the room was occupied and there was no
> more space to sit on the carpet, a new guest arrived. The prince, who was
> himself standing, immediately took off his valuable cloak and spread it on
> the floor for the newcomer to sit on. This gesture of his so impressed the
> man that he was led to investigate the Cause, and became a believer.
> One day one of the Baha’ís who had urgent work to attend to asked the
> prince if he would see that a load of hay was taken for his stable. The
> prince himself accompanied the man who was to take the hay and, having
> arrived at the house of his friend, found that the load had to be carried up a
> steep flight of steps to be placed in the loft. The man who had brought the
> hay refused to take it up all those steps. The prince calmly asked him to put
> the load on his own back and carried it up himself. It happened that the
> lady of the house, who had never had any sympathy for the Cause or the
> Baha’ís, was watching the incident from behind a curtain. She was so
> overwhelmed by what the prince did that her whole attitude changed and
> she later came to embrace the Cause.
> Of the many people who became interested in the Faith through the
> admirable qualities of the prince, was a man who had been a notorious
> thief and earned his living by waylaying people on the highways. After
> having embraced the Cause, this man one day happened to recognize
> among the Baha’ís at a meeting one of those people whom he had once
> robbed of all his belongings. With tears in his eyes, he went forward to
> kneel at the feet of the one whom he had wronged and, having first
> introduced himself, asked his forgiveness and begged him to accept a small
> sum of money which was all he owned at the time. His fellow-believer
> embraced him lovingly and refused the money, assuring him that he was
> willing to forget the whole incident.
> *****
> The son of prince Husayn-Qulí Mírza, Mihdí-Qulí Mírza, was also a
> wonderful Baha’í. He went through severe tests and diffi-
> 
> culties during his lifetime, but his spirit was never broken and nothing
> could shake his great faith in the Cause.
> One day he was brought the terrible news that his lovely young
> daughter, who had been married only a few months before, had suddenly
> died in the clinic of a Jewish lady doctor. Mihdí-Qulí Mírza, hurrying to the
> place, found that the doctor had been careless in giving an injection, and
> that his daughter had died within a few minutes.
> The news of this tragedy spread very swiftly through the town, and a
> great crowd of people gathered round the clinic shouting for revenge
> because a Jewish doctor had killed a Muslim woman. Mihdí-Qulí Mírza
> hurriedly climbed onto the terrace and called aloud for all to listen.
> As soon as the people in the street had stopped their cries, he told them
> that they need not think of revenge as the young woman who had died was
> his daughter, and he knew for sure that she was not a Muslim; that the
> deceased herself, her father, her mother and her husband were all Baha’ís.
> There was no further excuse left for the crowd to harass the doctor, so they
> gradually dispersed.
> The doctor herself, however, offered to pay the prince a large sum of
> money, but he shook his head. “Keep the money,” he said, “I have forgiven
> you your mistake.”
> Later on certain government officials, threatening to punish the Jewish
> doctor, found ample excuse for extracting money from her. When the
> prince heard of this, he gave her a signed statement in which he mentioned
> that, as a follower of the Baha’í Faith, he did not believe in revenge; he had
> forgiven her the mistake she had made and bore her no grudge; he did not
> wish the matter to be pursued any further.
> This document was signed and sealed by the prince himself, his wife
> and his son-in-law. No one who read it could find an excuse for persecuting
> the doctor any more.
> 
> Names of the main characters in the book
> ‘Abdu’l-Khaliq (son of Mulla ‘Abdu’l-Qaní)
> Abu’l-Fadl-i-Gulpayganí
> ‘Andalíb, Mírza ‘Alí-Ashraf
> Furughí, Mírza Mahmud
> Aqa Kamal
> Habíbu’llah (son of Sína)
> Hají Mihdíy-i-Arjumand-i-Hamadaní
> Hají Muhammad-Riday-i-Isfahaní
> Hakím Aqa Jan-i-Hamadaní
> Husayn-Qulí Mírzay-i-Mawzun
> Ishraq, Aqa ‘Abdu’l-Karím
> Malmírí, Hají Muhammad-Tahir
> Mashhadí ‘Abdil-i-Qarabaghí
> Mihdí-Qulí Mírzay-i-Mawzun
> Mírza Husayn-i-Zanjaní
> Mulla ‘Abdu’l-Qaníy-i-Ardikaní
> Mulla Bahram-i-Akhtar-Khavarí
> Mulla Riday-i-Muhammad-Abadíy-i-Yazdí
> Na‘ím, Aqa Muhammad
> Nayyir, Siyyid Mahmud
> Ruhu’llah-i-Varqa
> Sína, Hají Siyyid Isma‘íl
> Siyyid Asadu’llah-i-Qumí
> Siyyid Muhammad-i-‘Ala’í, Nazimu’l-Hukama (father of the Hand of the
> Cause of God, General Shu‘a‘u’llah ‘Ala’í)
> Tayyibih and Jamal (children of Mírza Husayn)
> Varqa, Mírza ‘Alí-Muhammad (father of the Hand of the Cause of God, Mr.
> Valiyu’llah Varqa)
> Vujdaní, Mírza Yusuf-Khan-i-Thabit
>
> — *Fire on the Mountain-Top (Used by permission of the curator)*