Ali Baba And 40 Thieves 06

Marjina convinces the Haqeem that Qasim is very sick & then Mustafa to go blindfolded to sew the corpse.

Ali Baba left her weeping, and went to discuss with Marjina how to manage the burial of his brother.

After much consultation, he left the slave-girl and departed home to speak to his wife.

Then, Marjina went to the medicine dispensary, and requested daru from the druggist.

"Daru?" Josh's ears pricked. "Why did she want alcohol?"

"Daru means alcohol in Urdu," Sam laughed, "but it also means medicine in Farsi (Persian)."

"Similarly in Hindi, we say 'dava daru karo' when we are telling someone to get medical help."

When Josh nodded and did not seek further clarification, Sam continued with his retelling of the Arabian Nights tale:

"Who is ill?" the physician asked Marjina.

"Master Qasim," she responded. "Been sick for days. Not eating, not sleeping, working himself to death. It's finally caught up with him, I'm afraid."

"The Hakeem questioned her thoroughly on Qasim's condition before an appropriate medicine could be given. But Marjina was a clever girl. She accurately described symptoms of a critically fatal sickness she knew of."

"While returning home with the Haqeem's medicine, she also briefly stopped to gossip with all and any acquaintances and neighbors about her master's dreadful illness."

"Meanwhile, Ali Baba discussed the situation with his wife while they dug and buried their latest installment of loot. She understood their predicament and consented to his plan of action."

"Throughout the rest of the day, they made a point of being seen, passing back and forth between Qasim's house and their own, and speaking to as many of their neighbors and acquaintances as they could, about Qasim being severely ill."

"In the evening, Marjina went to the Haqeem again. She asked for the strongest dose of a medicine that could pull back a man from the brink of death."

"Is he that bad now?" the druggist inquired, as he handed her his strongest dose.

Tears filled her eyes as she responded, "Much worse! Medicine appears to have done him no good. I'm afraid, he might have left it too late. It might be all over for him before he sees another day."

"No one was therefore surprised, when wailing and cries were heard from Qasim's house late that evening. News spread quickly in the neighborhood that Qasim was dead."

"Long before dawn the next morning, a veiled figure dropped the inner bolt on the outer door of Qasim's house and stepped quietly on the dark pavement outside. She checked left and right. Satisfied that no one was about, she closed the door from outside and walked briskly towards the Bazar."

James sat up in bed, unable to bear the excitement lying down. Josh's head was poking out of the duvet too, watching him intently while the rest of his body lay well hidden under the covers.

Sam felt at peace. The kind of peace that can only come from contentment one feels when one is with family. He continued with his retelling of the story.

"Now, I'll tell you about Mustafa," he said.

"Mustafa habitually arrived at his shop long before daybreak. He was getting on in his years and rapidly losing sight in both eyes, but that deterred him neither from practising his trade nor from walking up to his shop in pitch darkness every morning."

"He was a master cobbler, and proud of it. He could still sew up a shoe without looking at it, a feat others found impossible to imitate."

"As he was about to open his stall this morning, a veiled figure carefully stepped out of the shadows and gently called out his name."

"Mustafa Baba?"

Mustafa jumped with fear.

"You gave me a fright!" he whimpered. "What do you want?"

"Sorry," Marjina whispered as she gave him a gold mohar, "I didn't mean to scare you. I've been waiting here long. Will you come with me blindfolded, to do an urgent job? You will be very well paid."

"What is the job?" his curiosity was aroused at such a generous fare, despite his sudden apprehensions.

"Something only you can do," she promised him sincerely. "You will be very well paid."

He generally steered clear of intrigues. But personal pride and potential windfall forced him to reconsider today.

"Who are you?" he inquired further. "Why all this secrecy?"

"I can't answer questions that could identify my master," Marjina responded. "Secrecy is paramount. But you will be able to name your price."

"Secrets scare me," he scowled. "I am getting old. I don't like them anymore."

Silently, she placed another gold muhar on his palm, and assured him, "I will lead you, be with you at all times, and bring you back too."

He turned the golden asharfis over and over between his fingers while he stared at her eyes and mulled over his decision.

"Please come," pleaded Marjina. "I beg of you! We need your help."

Finally, he nodded.

She quickly tied a handkerchief tightly over his eyes and led him by his stick. She deliberately took a longer route, and went into unnecessary side streets just to double back again and confuse the blindfolded old fox.

The rest of the world was sleeping, blissfully unaware of her stratagems, when they finally reached her master's house. Opening the door silently, she ushered him in and took him to the dark room wherein lay the dead body of her master.

There, she asked him to sew together the pieces of the corpse, as they had been laid out for him.

When Mustafa had done her bidding, she paid him his fees. She then led the old cobbler back to the outer door.

Still veiled, she stepped out of the house and casually looked around.

All was clear. Guiding the blindfolded Mustafa out on the street, she bolted the door from outside and took yet another convoluted route to lead him back to his stall in the Bazaar.

A street dog barked and followed them awhile, but could not rouse anyone in the sleeping town. The cock was ushering in the dawn as she arrived home silently and safely once again.

Ali Baba And 40 Thieves 05

With slave-girl Marjina, Alibaba plans full Islamic burial rites for Qasim, but how to avoid suspicion?

Morning came, but Qasim did not return. Ali Baba set out for the hidden cave with his three asses.

He was full of foreboding, and his unease increased as he neared the rockface.

"Baaz kon Simsim," he invoked fearfully, not really wanting to go in.

Obediently, the rock face fell open.

Reluctantly, he pushed his mules before him and entered.

Bile rose in his mouth as he sighted the quartered parts of his brother's body hanging inside the cave entrance.

Shaking involuntarily, he untied the body parts, wrapped them in two cloths and laid them upon one of his asses.

Although he was terribly afraid, and wanted to flee, he tied up and placed more sacks of gold coins upon the two other animals.

Safely out of the robbers' den, he chanted the cryptic password and Simsim closed behind him. He hid his animals' loads carefully by piling sticks and brushwood on top, and hurried back home.

Handing over the gold coin loaded mules to his wife, he asked her to bury the treasure. He did not tell her that he had found Qasim.

All he wanted now, was for Qasim to be buried, without anyone knowing that he had not died a natural death. Leading the ass loaded with his brother's corpse, he walked to Qasim's house and gently knocked at the door.

The slave-girl, Marjina, undid the bolt and admitted them into the courtyard of the house. Looking at her, an idea began to take shape in his mind. He knew she was trustworthy, quick-witted and astute. Taking her aside, he confided in her.

"But first, we must secretly prepare your master's body for the burial rites," he concluded. She understood and nodded silently.

Together, they unloaded Qasim's body from the beast's back and took it inside the house. Then Alibaba went in to see Qasim's widow. He knocked softly on her door and called out her name.

She opened the door with hurried anticipation, a multitude of unasked questions waiting to fly from the tip of her tongue. But one look at him killed all hope in her.

Fear choked her throat and tears flew from her eyes again. He could see that she had been crying all night. Slowly, he took her hands in his own. And led her to the room where her husband's fetid body lay in pieces.

The flesh had already begun to rot, and a deathly smell pervaded the room. She was horrified.

Wave after wave of nausea shook her body and weakened her legs. She sunk on the ground and wept wordlessly.

Ali Baba stood silently in the room, witnessing her sorrow. Grief overpowered him, but a lot needed doing. His sense of duty cleansed him of fear.

When the tempest inside her had subsided, he recounted to her how and where he had found what remained of his brother, and what they must do now.

"What has been done, has been done," Ali Baba concluded. "It can't be undone. But we are all in great danger now. When the thieves return to their den and find the body gone, they will know that that their secrets are secret no more."

"They will not rest until they find who is responsible. Qasim must be buried without anyone knowing that he did not die a natural death. Our lives depend upon our secrecy."

She nodded in silent understanding and promised to keep the affair concealed. But Ali Baba hadn't finished.

"When your Iddah is over," he continued, " I will take you as wife, as is customary. Since you are already wealthy and I will have moved in to live with you, no one will suspect anything when we begin to spend our new found wealth discreetly."

"You shall also be able to live in security, comfort, privacy and happiness with us. I will need to explain all these things to my first wife, so she understands our dilemma and so there is no animosity between the two of you."

She lifted both arms towards the sky in the deathly room, and a tear rolled down her cheeks.

"Allah knows best," was all she said. Then shaking spasmodically, she burst into silent tears again.

"Pa, what is Idda?" asked Josh.

"Qur'an (Al Baqarah 2:234)," explained Sam

, "prohibits widows from engaging themselves for four lunar months and ten days after the death of their husbands, unless they are pregnant. So it seems to be the prescribed mourning period for Muslim widows."

"Why around 130 days?" Rose asked, "Why not 10 days or a 100 or a 1000? What is the significance of 130 days?"

"Some Islamic scholars," Sam answered, "consider this period as providing an acceptable balance between mourning of husband's death and protecting the widow from criticism that she might be subjected to, if she re-marries too quickly after her husband's death."

"Others have speculated that this period was required and sufficient, to ascertain accurately whether a woman was pregnant or not."

"Interestingly, four and a half months is about half the length of a normal pregnancy. Now, I am not a doctor and I don't know what external tools people of that age had to determine pregnancy. So I don't really know enough to comment on the pregnancy argument either which way."

"But how much time must a widow wait before remarrying," asked James, " if she was pregnant when her husband died?"

"I think," answered Sam, "the waiting period for a pregnant Muslim woman is still until after she delivers the child."

"Then what happened, Pa?" Josh asked impatiently, wanting to get on with the Arabian Nights tale of the forty thieves and their magical cave.

.Ali Baba And 40 Thieves 04

Qasim gets to the treasure, but can he get it out?

Stressed minds make mistakes. Mistakes can be fatal.

Qasim hired ten mules the next day, and driving them according to Alibaba's directions, readily found the magical rock face.

"Baaz kon Simsim!" he yelled excitedly.

Obediently, the rock face yawned open.

Qasim went in, and as soon as he had safely entered, the rockface closed shut behind him as it was supposed to.

Qasim saw the piles of jewels and treasures Ali Baba had described. He walked about in ecstasy marvelling at the treasures lying all around him.

When he finally tired of surveying the booty, he began to load up sacks enough for his ten mules.

He packed and stacked them by the entrance one by one, in readiness to be carried outside and set upon the beasts. But in his excitement, he forgot the magic password.

"Baaz kon Kishmish," he commanded the rockface when he was ready to leave.

The rock face just stared back at him, unmoving. Astonished and confused, he named all manner of names, but the rockface refused to move.

"Baaz kon Manakeesh," he tried. Nothing.
"Baaz kon Ghanoush," he appealed. Nothing.
"Baaz kon Fattoush," he pleaded. Nothing.

Qasim stared at the closed rockface, getting redder and redder in his face and beginning to shake with rising fear and frustration.

"Baaz kon Couscous," he rattled. Nothing.
"Baaz kon Shanklish," he cried. Nothing.
"Baaz kon Masgouf," he wept. Nothing.

He despaired. The harder he tried to remember, the more hopeless it seemed.

"Baaz kon Simsim," little Josh whispered helpfully from under the sheets, "It's Baaz kon Simsim!"

"Yeah," said Sam. "But people forget things when they are worried. That's why you shouldn't study too hard or too long in the night before the exam."

"Because you would be so tired and stressed out the next day, that you'd forget even the easiest things. Like Simsim had slipped from Qasim's memory as though he had never even heard the word."

The children nodded somberly. Sam continued retelling the Arabian Nights tale:

Qasim paced backwards and forwards over the Asharfis spread under his feet, unmindful of them.

He paced backwards and forwards around the gold and silverware, unmindful of them.

He paced backwards and forwards around the rich silks, garments and carpets, unmindful of them.

And he racked his brain. Again and again. But it just wouldn't come. And then he heard it. The sound of his death. But he did not recognize it immediately.

It came as a rhythmic drumbeat, slowly growing louder, slowly more certain - from the ground underneath his feet. Unbeknown to him, a cloud of dust had been rising high above the trees and moving rapidly towards him.

"Hurry!" Josh screamed. "The forty bandits are coming!!"

James was biting his nails. Rose moved deeper inside the duvet. Sam continued:

Qasim was sorely worried and anxious. This wealth, whose sight had so delighted him a few hours ago, now filled him with great grief and bitterness.

And then he understood the beat. The significance of this symphony. A rhythmic pounding of the earth by 80 hooves, followed immediately by another 80.

Drrup, drrup. Drrup, drrup. Drrup, drrup.

'Ya'Allah,' he sighed, 'So this is it!'

He felt claustrophobic. Sad.

He sagged on his knees. And waited for his death

.He waited, for those who would bring it with them.

Reaching the cave, the Captain and his troop dismounted. They were perplexed to see so many mules around. They did not care about strays, but it was a bad omen that so many of them seemed to have strayed so far from the town at the same time.

And an even more incredible coincidence that they had all then gathered outside the hidden cave entrance.

Filled with foreboding, the Captain called out to Simsim to open: Baaz kon Simsim!

At once it flew open. And then they saw him. They rushed upon him with their swords and killed him instantly. Then cut up his body in four quarters, and hung them up inside the cave entrance.

They searched the cavern, but found no one else. They unpacked the sacks Qasim had packed up and placed by the entrance, and put back the treasure where it belonged.

They discussed at length, puzzled at how Qasim could have had gained entrance inside their secret den. It was not possible for him to have dropped through the minute holes in the roof.

He couldn't have entered through the portal door either, unless he knew the magical password to open it. But that was impossible. Unless one of them was a traitor! And had given the password to him.

Worry creased every brow as the thieves shut Simsim and rode away that evening. Doubt had taken root in their minds. Could there be a mole amongst them? Their own brother?

They knew they would have to distrust each other now. It was their only defense against betrayal.

When night fell and Qasim had not returned, his wife was greatly alarmed. She went to Ali Baba for help.

"You know where he went," she wailed. "He hasn't returned yet. I have a really bad feeling about this."

Ali Baba tried to comfort her, but it was not much use. He feared the worst himself, but it was no use confessing his own premonitions to his already distressed kinswoman.

"Qasim is just being his usual cautious self," he offered. "He will return in dark tonight with the booty when there is no one around to see him bringing it in. Go home and wait for him."

Qasim's wife was still distraught, so he promised her that if his brother did not return by morning, he would go looking for him. She returned home, but found no peace, afraid that sharing her fear with anyone else could lead to more misfortune.

She wept all night in silent agony, cursing herself for her envy, which had caused all this trouble.

Ali couldn't sleep either. He tossed and turned in his bed all night, dreading having to do tomorrow, what he knew he must do.

Ali Baba And 40 Thieves 03

Qasim's clever wife stumbles upon Alibaba's secret. This strains their relationship.

Trust once lost, is not easily regained.

"What's up?" said Rose, entering the room.

She had done the dishes. Seeing them all there, she got under their duvet too. It was freezing cold outside.

"Pa's telling us the story of Ali Baba And Forty Thieves," James replied excitedly. "Do you want to hear it too?"

Rose nodded. James quickly summarized the story so far, for her. Then Sam continued:

"Okay, weigh it if you must," Alibaba conceded to his wife, "but not a word to anyone."

She nodded and hurried off to Qasim's home to borrow their weights and scales.

"Do you need the big scales or small?" her sister-in-law asked.

"Small," she answered, "I don't need the big ones today."

"Wait a moment," said her sister-in-law. "I'll look around and find them for you."

'What does a woodcutter's wife need the small scales for,' thought Qasim's wife as she was hunting around for them, 'certainly not to measure hunks of chopped wood. If they are not measuring wood today, what are they up to?'

Wanting to know, yet not wanting to probe directly, Qasim's wife secretly smeared some suet under the bottom of a pan before she handed the weights and scales over to her sister-in-law.

"What's suet?" Josh asked.

"It's a bit of hard sticky fat from around the kidneys and loins in beef or sheep," Sam answered. "Qasim's wife was very clever. She did that hoping that a bit of whatever it is that Ali Baba and his wife measure with the small scales, will still be stuck to the fat when the scales were returned. That way she would know without asking, what it was that they had measured with it."

Ali Baba's wife suspected nothing. She brought the scales home and began to weigh the gold.

Ali Baba was busy digging. When the money had been weighed, she helped him carefully stow most of it away into the hole and cover it back up with earth. Then she returned the scales to her relative, unaware that an Ashrafi was still stuck to the bottom of a pan.

When Qasim's wife saw the gold coin, she blew her top. Fuming with envy and anger, she relayed the events and showed the coin to Qasim when he returned home from the shop that night.

"For years, we helped them thinking they were dirt poor," she raged. "But they are so filthy rich, they don't count their money like ordinary folk. They weigh their Ashrafis! Your brother is as rich as an Emir. And he has been playing us all for a fool."

Qasim couldn't sleep that night. He tossed and turned, tossed and turned, till it was almost dawn. When the first cock crowed to herald a new day, Qasim was already up, knocking at Ali Baba's door.

"Sobh bekheir, brother," said Ali Baba, though he was baffled to see him so early in the morning.

"Is Sobh bekheir 'Good Morning' in their language?" Josh asked.

"Kind of," answered Sam. "And Shab bekheir is kind of like 'Good Night'. In Persian or Farsi language, Shab means night, and kheir means to be safe or to keep well. Roz means day. So 'Roz bekheir' would be like saying 'Good day to you', or 'May Allah keep you safe through the day'."

Josh understood and nodded. Sam

continued with his re-telling of the Arabian Nights tale:

"You are poor and needy, aren't you Ali?" Qasim asked. He was in no mood to beat about the bush.

Ali Baba nodded silently. He knew Qasim's temperament. Something was up.

"So poor, you can't afford to have your own scales to weigh something."

Ali Baba looked silently at Qasim. And waited. A showdown was coming. He could smell it in the air.

"So poor, you need to borrow my scales to weigh up your gold?" Qasim was beginning to tremble now, despite his efforts at restraint.

"What?" Ali Baba was startled. "What gold?"

Qasim stared at him silently, getting redder and redder in his face and beginning to shake with his quickly rising anger.

"I don't understand," Ali Baba protested feebly.

"Liar!" Qasim burst out like an exploding volcano and threw the Asharfi at Ali Baba's face. "Your Asharfi was stuck to the bottom of my scales when your wife returned them yesterday."

"You robbed me of my fair share of inheritance from father. You salted away his fortune by stealth, while I went about thinking he had died leaving us nothing. I will report you to the Wali (Civil Governor) and have your Asharfis confiscated. You wait and see now. You will rot in Jail and die in ignominy. I will have my retribution."

Ali Baba realized that it was futile to argue or lie about his wealth now. Rather than cause further ill-will and mischief, he decided to take his brother in his confidence. But Trust once lost, is not easily regained.

Despite hearing his brother's extraordinary experience with the bandits and the magical cave, Qasim remained skeptical.

"Prove it!" he hissed. "Tell me where the cave is? What is the magic password? I will go and check these myself. And if you have lied, I'll go straight to the Wali."

So Ali Baba was forced to tell him the landmarks, the magical words whereby the rock face opened and closed, and the details of what the treasure trove contained. Qasim listened carefully, but he didn't really believe Ali Baba.

"You think I am a kid," he growled. "You can't fool me with your stories of magic. You've cooked up an elaborate lie to cover up your inheritance fraud."

"Check it out for yourself then," answered Ali Baba. "And stop yelling so loudly. You'll wake up the dead. Then, even they will know of the treasure."

Qasim shut up. He stared silently at Ali Baba for a very long time. Then he left.

Ali Baba And 40 Thieves 02

Alibaba stole from thieves. Is stealing from thieves wrong?

Beliefs are dangerous, yet useful. Why?

"Pa, what is Inshallah?" Josh asked.

"Insha'allah (إن شاء الله‎)," explained Sam, "is Arabic for 'God willing' or 'If Allah wills'."

"Muslims believe that everything is Maktub, which means it is written or destined, and so whatever it is one wishes to do, will only occur if it is within God's plan."

"It can also mean that the speaker believes that the task he embarks upon is what God wills, rather than the speaker's desire to succeed in that task."

“But that is a dangerous belief to have,” interrupted James. “For you could just say Insha Allah to start a war or kill someone or steal. Do what you really want, but pin it on God.”

“Human history is rife with stories of pain given, and damage done in the name of God,” agreed Sam. “Yes, it is a very risky assumption to make, but belief begins with a leap of faith.”

“What begins in blindness is usually doomed to a life in darkness. Yet, Light exists."

"I believe that Light can only come with his Grace, and only if He wills. So, Faith and Knowledge find it difficult to co-exist.”

“Meanwhile, life still remains to be lived, and one must still choose how one will live their life. Not everyone is endowed with Knowledge, yet they can lead happy lives. Not everyone has Faith, yet they too are not denied happiness in life."

"I am a fan of Knowledge and a student of life, yet I survive as a believer. My Faith guides me. Faith that the sun will rise tomorrow. Faith that my son will look after me when I grow old. Faith that debtors will repay me. Faith that justice will prevail."

"Faith brings hope. Hope is the elixir of life. It is the foundation of commerce. Faith is useful. Humans need Faith. Especially because Knowledge is a scarce endowment and has to be earned."

"People take the path of least resistance in lives. Faith is easier cos you don’t have to do much. You can delegate the groundwork to any perceived authority. Knowledge is too personal. It just doesn’t come without hard work.”

Josh squirmed under the sheets. He wasn’t getting any of this.

Sam sensed his unease and moved back to his story, “So, Ali Baba rounded up his three donkeys and commanded the rock face to open up again.”

"When it did, he cautiously entered within, alongwith his animals. As soon as they were safely in, the rock face closed off by itself, but Ali Baba was not dismayed. He had memorized the magic words that opened and shut it."

"He was now in a large cavern. Rays of light found their way into this secret vault through little holes in its roof. It was full of all kinds of treasures that must have taken years of effort to build up. Rich silks, garments and carpets. Sackfulls of gold and silver ware. Bagfulls of gold asharfis. Everywhere you saw."

"Pa, what are asharfis?" Josh asked.

"They were little gold coins," replied Sam, "also called Ashrafi or Mohur in Urdu. These Persian gold coins weighed about 53 grains or just under half the weight of a Sovereign."

"And what's a Sovereign?" he asked again.

"A Sovereign is a 7.3 gm 22 Carat Gold coin from United Kingdom," Sam answered, "with a nominal value of one pound sterling or about NZD 2.50 today. Did you know that the Sovereign is still used as a bullion coin?"

"Anyway, there was so much wealth in the cave, it boggled the mind. But fear ticked in Ali Baba's heart like a metronome. He loaded up his three asses with as many of the bags of gold asharfis as he could."

"Then he commanded the portal open and quickly made his way out. There was still no one about."

"Fearful and excited, he covered up his plunder with sticks and wood and started leading his donkeys home. He hadn't gone far, when to his shock and horror, he realised that he had left the rock face open. It hadn't closed automatically when he had left it."

"Basta kon Simsim," he ran back and commanded the rock face. The cave opening vanished. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ali Baba rushed home with his mules.

Once home, he drove them into his yard, and bolted his outer door from within. Carefully, he removed the wood and carried a bag of gold in, to show it to his wife.

Her heart almost jumped out of her mouth, when she saw so many gold asharfis. But she almost fainted when he told her how he had got them.

Delighted with their good fortune and proud of his daring, the two love birds chattered excitedly as he repeated his adventure for the umpteenth time and took her out in the yard to see the other bags for herself.

Together, they unloaded their precious load off the donkeys and brought it all in. She untied every bag to check its contents, pouring the asharfis out in a heap before her. The sight of this growing mound of shiny metal dazzled her. Its yellow sheen was stupefying.

She had never seen this much money in her life. She danced with joy. When she was finally tired, she sat down and began counting the gold, to determine how rich they were now.

“No,” admonished Ali Baba. “That will take too long, and there is no need to count it. We must dig a hole and bury it at once so no one can chance upon it while we are out and about.”

“No,” she chattered excitedly, “we need to know how much we have first. How much we hid. Let me at least weigh it once, before we bury it.”

"Why does he want to bury it?" little Josh asked. "He should spend it quickly."

"Don't be an Idiot!" James interrupted him. "If he spends it too quickly, he'll be poor again. He should put it in a Bank locker."

"There were no Banks or Bank lockers in Persia then," Sam clarified. "Anyway, if people found out Ali Baba was suddenly so rich, they'd all want to know how. Such news has a way of getting around too quickly."

"If any of the forty thieves found out how Alibaba suddenly got so rich, they'd come and kill him for stealing from them."

"But Alibaba stole from thieves," Josh argued. "Stealing from thieves is not wrong!"

"Stealing is always wrong," James

responded. "Even stealing from a thief!"

"Then why did you say the other day that Robin Hood was a hero," retorted Josh. "You keep changing your mind."

Ali Baba And 40 Thieves 01

Will Alibaba’s fearful mind risk danger? Fear clouds opportunities, time & reflection reveal them.

"Story time, Pa!" James said, as he nuzzled into his father's side.

"Long or short?" asked Sam, as he lay back into James's bed.

"Lonnie," said James, and hugged his father tightly.

"Are you telling a story, Pa?" Josh asked from outside their door. He had been passing by and seen them talking in bed.

"Yup," answered Sam. "An Arabian Nights tale, my style. The story of Ali Baba and 40 Thieves. Wanna hear?"

Josh nodded excitedly. Entering James's room, he jumped into the bed too on his father's other side.

"Once upon a time in Persia," Sam began, "there lived two brothers called Qasim and Alibaba. Their father had left them with little wealth."

The elder, Qasim, had married the daughter of a rich merchant, and so he inherited a large shop, home and slaves when his father-in-law died.

Ali Baba on the other hand, had married a poor woman and worked as a woodcutter. So they lived in a modest shack with their three asses, which he used to carry his chopped wood into the Bazar daily to sell.

One day while he was in the forest cutting wood near a towering hill, Ali Baba saw a cloud of dust rising high above the trees and moving rapidly towards him.

Fearing it was a pack of bandits riding his way, who would kill him and take away his donkeys if they saw them, he hustled his animals into dense bushes nearby and scrambled up a huge tree to hide himself.

From his hidden perch in the foliage high above the ground, he saw a troop of horsemen emerge from the dusty cloud between the trees.

They stopped when they reached the big rock and dismounted. Each unbridled his horse, hobbled it and hung on their beasts' necks a bag of corn which they carried behind them.

Then all of them took off their saddle-bags. These seemed to be quite heavy. Ali Baba peered at them carefully and was sure that they were highwaymen who had looted some caravan recently. Perhaps, they had come to this deserted place to hide their spoils or distribute their loot.

He counted forty of them. As he watched surreptitiously, a man who seemed to be their captain moved out of the group, his saddle-bag slung on his shoulder, and walked towards the big rock. When he was close enough to the rock, he uttered this strange command: "Baaz kon Simsim."

The rock face fell open, revealing a passage where an instant ago there had been solid rock. The robbers entered it one by one, with their loads slung over their shoulders. Last to enter was their Chief. When they had all disappeared in the dark portal, the rock face closed shut by itself behind them.

Ali Baba wanted to slide down the tree and run for his life. But he was up too high in the tree for that. Age was catching up with his body, so even a speedy descent was out of question. Also, the cave mouth could reopen any moment.

If it did while he was trying to get down safely from the tree and any of the bandits spotted him, they would certainly kill him. He feared detection and death. With their secret revealed to him, there was no way they could let him live.

Sweat dripped down his worried brow, and his limbs shook with fear. Breath came in slow, sharp gasps and his throat became so parched, it hurt. But a gentle breeze slowly soothed his nerves, and his hands gradually steadied. Time passed while he was forced to wait.

He had been unable and unwilling to move. But as he rested securely and well-camouflaged in the canopy of leaves around him, fear dissipated and was slowly replaced by a daring idea.

Such is human mind. Give it time, and it can see a silver lining in the darkest clouds. One moment it is paralysed by fear, the next moment it is daring the tempest and sailing perilous seas in hope.

As Ali Baba was reflecting on his inspiration, turning its pros and cons over and over in his mind, the portal suddenly flew open again. The captain emerged first out of the darkness.

He stood at the entrance, and saw the other robbers emerge one by one and pass by him. Ali Baba counted 40 men again.

When they were all safely out, the Chief turned around to the cave again and spoke the words, "Basta kon Simsim."

The rock face magically devoured the passage opening, and all trace of the passage instantly vanished. The men silently walked down to their horses. They bridled them again, slung on their saddle-bags, remounted and rode off.

Ali Baba remained still on his perch and watched them leave. Only a long time after they had vanished from sight, did he gingerly descend - his mind torn between fear and curiosity.

'Will this magic work for me too?', he pondered, as he walked fearfully up to the rock face and stood roughly where the chief horseman had stood.

There was nothing to lose. He had escaped detection. He was still alive. He was alone. Luck was surely smiling on him. He gambled. On his luck holding firm and took a deep breath.

"Baaz kon Simsim!" he appealed to the rock face, almost apologetically.

Obediently, the rock face fell open.

"Basta kon Simsim!" he tried, amazed at the power of these magical words to move a mountain.

Obediently, the rock face closed shut before him.

"In Persian or Farsi language," Sam explained to his kids, "'Baaz kon' is an order to open up something, and 'Basta kon' is an order to close something. Dar means door. So 'Dar Baaz Kon', would be an order to open the door. In Arabic, the command would have been 'Iftah ya Simsim'."

The kids nodded. Sam continued:

'Insha'Allah!' Ali Baba thought and was committed to his daring idea.

You Spit, I Bow

"Pa, how should one act?" Josh asked.

"Rightly," Sam answered.

"But isn't it hard to know what is right?" Josh continued.

"It can be hard to know what WAS right, because future interpretations change with the benefit of hindsight."

"But since action is always done in the now, it is not that hard to know what IS right in the present."

"If you are honest and it feels right, do it. It will be right."

"Essentially, it is acting with integrity at all times. Even if it turns out not to have been right later, it will have made you a better judge of what is right in future."

"Right conduct in life is important. It brings peace. In fact, it is so important that it was prescribed by Buddh as one of the key parts of his Noble 8-fold path prescription."

"How can one act with integrity at all times?" Josh asked again.

"By acting, without expectation," Sam answered. "Nishkam Karm (निष्काम कर्म), self-less or desire less action. By acting without attachment. Nirlipt Karm (निर्लिप्त काम)."

"Krishn talks about it when he teaches Arjun the way to liberation through Karm Yog (कर्म योग). It is also the central message of Krishn's Gita."

"How can there be action without desire?" asked Josh. "Desires motivate action in the first place. Without attachment, there would be no action."

"Some actions germinate from desire and attachment," Sam replied, "but not all. You breathe, though you have no conscious desire that causes you to breathe."

"You swear. That's action motivated by a desire, ichcha (इच्छा), to get even with someone. You cry. That's when your attachment, moh (मोह), with something is torn asunder."

"Desire and attachment are not the same thing. You desire to learn, so you go to school. But you take your teddy bear to school with you. That's attachment. Attachment can be to material things, like toys; or incorporeal things, like your beliefs."

"Let me tell you a story I once read somewhere. Ryutaku-ji Buddhist Monastery in Japan was founded by Zen Master Hakuin Ekaku in 1761. During the mid 20th century it was led by a number of influential Abbots, who encouraged and supported the study of Zen by Westerners."

"Americans Philip Kapleau and Professor Phillips were once visiting the Ryutakuji. Soen Nakagawa Sam was Abbot at the time. He was giving them a tour of the place."

"Both Americans had been heavily influenced by tales of ancient Chinese masters who'd destroyed sacred texts, and even images of the Buddha, in order to free themselves from attachment to anything."

"They were thus surprised and disturbed to find themselves being led into a ceremonial hall, where the Sam invited them to pay respects to a statue of the temple's founder, Hakuin Zenji, by bowing and offering incense."

"On seeing Nakagawa bow before the human image, Phillips couldn't contain himself."

"The old Chinese masters spit on Buddha statues or burnt them down!" he said. "Why do you bow down before them?"

"If you want to spit, you spit," replied the Sam. "I prefer to bow."

"So there is no conflict?" asked Josh.

"None, if you don't create it", Sam

answered, "After all, you can't be expected to give what you didn't have."