Avicenna - The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs 7.3

spring 2017 vol 7 no 3

avicenna the stanford journal on muslim affairs

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THE STANFORD JOURNAL ON MUSLIM AFFAIRS

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avicenna THE STANFORD JOURNAL ON MUSLIM AFFAIRS

SPRING 2017 VOL 7 NO 3

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Atussa Mohtasham ’18 ASSOCIATE EDITORS Eva Grant ’19 Kit Raya Ramgopal ’19 Jennifer Peterson ’18 DESIGNER Carolyn Oliver ’17 WEB DEVELOPER Marika Elise Buchholz ’19 FINANCIAL OFFICER Ariana Qayumi ’18

Avicenna - The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs is a student-run journal founded in 2011 at Stanford University. As a nonsectarian, independent publication, Avicenna exists to portray Muslims not as silent objects but as knowing subjects, from the inside rather than the outside. Published in print and online, it aims to maintain a brave and academic agora where members of diverse communities, from different cultures, beliefs and ethnicities, can critically examine issues related to the Muslim world.

To contact Avicenna Editorial Board or to send text or image submissions, please email at avicenna.stanford@gmail.com.

Avicenna - The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs would like to thank the Associated Students of Stanford University (ASSU) for their support.

Front cover image: Sultan Amir Ahmad bathhouse, Kashan. Photograph by Matthieu Abgrall PhD ’18 Stanford University Back cover image: Badgir Towers in Yazd, Iran. Photograph by Matthieu Abgrall PhD ’18 Stanford University

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CONTENTS Editor’s Note ATUSSA MOHTASHAM

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Sixteen Pieces of Paper FATIMAH AL-ISMAIL

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SESAME: A New Research Center in the Middle East PROFESSOR HERMAN WINICK

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Song of the Reed: Original Artwork MINA MOHTASHAM

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Economic Difficulties in Predominantly Muslim Regions of Russia WILLIAN HEALZER AND RAVI PATEL

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We, The People (Hum Log): Original Calligraphy NASHWAH AKHTAR

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Women in Islamic Cities: Privacy and Power SAO BAC

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Poems of Rumi TRANSLATIONS BY FOAD MIR

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Editor’s Note “Everyone searches for the Friend, Whether they’re drunk or stone-cold sober; And love’s in every house—the mosque And synagogue are just the same.”1 These are the words of classical Persian poet Hafez in 14th century Iran. Using the symbol of wine and drunkenness, Hafez criticizes the asceticism and religious hypocrisy of certain mullahs who posit fundamentalist conceptions of right and wrong in order to judge and suppress others. Through poetic resistance, Hafez delineates an ethical vision that transcends sectarianism through mutual love and understanding.

Today, in the 21st century, the Muslim world continues to face turbulence, political unrest, violence and persecution due to both external and internal factors. War, invasion and exploitation in the fight for resources on a global scale have led to turmoil and political instability in the Middle East. Internally, the hypocrisy of extremists and political leaders who use religion as a means to justify their quest for power has caused immense damage to the image of Islam and Muslim peoples throughout the world. Foreign media has contributed vastly to the misrepresentation of Islam and Muslim culture in the interest of their own countries’ politics. Within Muslim countries, too, the violent misapplication of Islam has caused many members of the younger generation to aggressively resist their forefathers in an attempt to break free from the religious and social traditions that they, along with the rest of the world, have come to believe are inherently violent. Others bravely continue to embrace the inner essence of their faith despite external manipulations. With the same ethical intention as Hafez, a group of Stanford students founded Avicenna – The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs in 2011, during the turbulence of the Arab Spring. Through intelligent reflection and dialogue, we can cultivate ideas that transcend violent sectarianism, open the way to mutual understanding and motivate guided action.

The third issue of our seventh volume seeks to capture the multi-dimensionality of Islam and the Muslim world through a variety of written and visual media. We are proud to feature many art and literature pieces. Fatimah Al-Ismail’s short story, “Sixteen pieces of paper,” explores the struggle of a young girl and her beloved as they face pressure from their parents to marry partners they do not love. The tension between individual freedom and the upholding of tradition is foregrounded through a touching story. Iranian-American author and filmmaker Foad Mir translates selected work of Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, 13th century Persian mystic and poet. Beloved by the whole Muslim world and beyond, Rumi touches 1 Hafez, Jahan Malik Khatun, and Obayd-e Zakani. Faces of Love. Trans. Dick Davis. London: Penguin Classics, 2014. p.34.

Print.

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upon universal aspects of the human condition through enchanting poetry, whose scope and impact proved to be timeless. Mina Mohtasham incorporates the first lines of Rumi’s magnum opus, Masnavi, into a beautiful print that depicts the hope for the future liberation of women in Iran from oppressive social conventions.

Nashwah Akhtar renders the poetry of renowned Urdu poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz in spectacular calligraphy. Our arts spread features the photography of Matthieu Abgrall from his recent travels in Iran. The photos are snapshots of Iran’s ancient past, its cultural treasures and their continued presence in contemporary culture and the daily lives of Iranian people.

Featured in this issue are also several academic pieces that discuss recent developments and explore various aspects of the Muslim world today. William Healzer and Ravi Patel outline the economic difficulties faced in Muslim regions of Russia. Sao Bac explores how urban organization shapes privacy standards for women in Islamic cities. Finally, we are honored to publish a piece by Professor Herman Winick at SLAC National Accelerator Laboratory. Professor Winick is a renowned scientist and human rights activist and won the Heinz R. Pagels Human Rights of Scientists Award from the New York Academy of Sciences in 2005 and the third Andrei Sakharov Prize from the American Physical Society in 2010. In his piece, Professor Winick introduces the International Centre for Synchroton-Light for Experimental Science Applications in the Middle East (SESAME), which was started in 1998 and recently inaugurated in Jordan on May 16, 2017. The research center was founded to promote peace between Middle Eastern countries through scientific collaboration.

I would like to conclude by thanking all of Avicenna’s hardworking editorial board members and authors for their contributions to this issue. Finally, I thank our most recent Editor-in-Chief Sevde Kaldiroglu for her brilliant work over the past few years. Her dedication and passion for Avicenna and its cause was pivotal in strengthening the journal, its presence and impact at Stanford. As the new Editorin-Chief, I hope to continue Sevde’s work, promoting fruitful dialogue among students at Stanford and developing a deeper understanding of the complexities, problems, marvels and beauty of the Muslim world.

My best regards, Atussa Mohtasham Comparative Literature ‘18 Editor-in-Chief

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Sixteen pieces of paper Fatimah Al-Ismail PhD Geophysics '21, Stanford University

My name is Amani, Arabic for the word wishes. But I go by my official birth name now: Madinah, which means city. It’s an old-fashioned name, unsuitable for a girl in her early twenties. But I was named after my late grandmother. She and my father were very close. I used to visit her every weekend with my father, and she would give me wet kisses on both cheeks. I used to wipe them right away with the back of my hand while I avoided my father’s furrowed brows. Grandma would usually just laugh and then give me money to buy candy from the store next door. Mother didn’t like my name. “Who would want to marry a Madinah?” she had said, and so she called me Amani; a modern, girly name.

whoever called. He didn’t permit me to go out with my friends anymore; an engaged girl had no business going out without her male guardian. He came over every night after work. I started to lose my appetite. I told Mother I did not love him, and that I wanted to be single again.

Mother grew very angry, and told me that I was corrupted by the Hollywood movies I loved to watch. I fell very ill, vomiting anything that tried to find its way down to my stomach. I remember the guilt in my father’s eyes as he took care of me throughout my sickness, and as he made arrangements to end the engagement.

Mother never said anything. I stopped seeing that man, and five months after our engagement, we broke up.

I got engaged six years ago when I was eighteen. Mother’s friend had a son who one day told his mother that he wanted to get married, and she decided I was a good fit to be his wife. Mother thought he was perfect. I did not think about it much at the time. My young and naïve-self assumed it was just another step in life; graduate high school and then get married. It made Mother happy. She thought he was a great “catch”. I hated the way she used that word.

“Is she your only daughter?” Mrs. Sahib asked as she took a sip from the orange juice I served her on a metallic tray, covered with a white lace doily. She did not look at me. Mother nodded with a smile. I sat next to her, staring at Mrs. Sahib as I toyed with the loose strands of my hair. Mother poked me with her elbow. I stopped.

Arrangements were made, and in a two weeks, we were engaged. Nothing was out of the ordinary at first, although I had more feelings towards the walls of my room than I did to him. But he started checking my text messages regularly, and he asked numerous questions about

“She looks nothing like you.”

“Thank God she doesn’t,” mother forced a laugh and Mrs. Sahib joined her, “no, she takes after her paternal grandmother.

She has her mesmerizing grey eyes and chocolate brown hair.”

“Yes, I remember her grandmother. She was a bit stubborn,” Mrs. Sahib said as the stanford journal on muslim affairs

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her mouth curved into a half-smile, “but she definitely had all eyes fixed on her whenever she entered a room.”

“I was named after her too,” I said. Mother fidgeted next to me.

“But her name was Madinah,” Mrs. Sahib said, eyebrows raised as she put down her orange juice.

“It was,” Mother laughed. “This is a long but funny story. You see, her grandmother— bless her soul—wanted to have our firstborn named after her. We wanted to grant her wish, but at the same time, who uses the name Madinah nowadays, you know?

So we wrote it on the official papers, but she goes by Amani.”

“Good decision.” Mrs. Sahib said. I fixed my stare at her as the clock ticked in the room next door.

“Well, how do you want to proceed?” Mrs. Sahib asked Mother after a long pause. “I assume your husband has been asking people around the village about my son?”

“He has, and we’ve been hearing amazing things about him,” Mother said “Top of his class in medical school, religious, social, volunteers, I could go on and on.”

Mrs. Sahib nodded at every word.

“There isn’t really much to do,” Mother said. She took a deep breath “her father was wondering—if it’s OK with you of course—if Amani and your son Ahmad can exchange phone calls before the official engagement?” Mother cracked her joints.

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all,” Mother chuckled. “We love Ahmad. We certainly do. It’s just that, you know, we want it to work this time.”

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“What’s wrong with getting to know each other before we commit for life?” I asked “Guys these days spend weeks deciding which car to buy, but when it comes to marriage, they expect the girl to say yes right away.”

“You’re lucky we even chose you,” Mrs. Sahib said before she got up and gathered her belongings. “Girls these days, breaking engagements for the silliest reasons. Who knows what you’ve been doing in the US for the past four years.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but Mother was quick to get up and motion Mrs. Sahib to sit down, but she was reluctant to do so.

“That was six years ago. Trust me. She’s mature now.” Mother patted Mrs. Sahib’s shoulder. “If it makes you uncomfortable, they don’t have to talk. We know he’s a great guy, and you’ve asked around about Amani too. I’m sure you’ve heard good things about her.”

“I don’t trust a girl who talks back to her future mother in law,” Mrs. Sahib walked to the door, not saying a word, and Mother hurried beside her, regaling her with tales of what a well-behaved young lady I was— how much people loved me—but Mrs. Sahib walked out. Mother stood by the open door before she closed it.

“What is wrong with you?” she sprinted back to where I was sitting, her face a light shade of crimson. “Did I not tell you a million times to stay quiet and let me do the talking?”

“Mother! How do you expect me to be quiet? Have you seen her? She’s so arrogant and full of herself.”

“She was nothing but polite, and you disrespected her.”

“I’m sorry, who disrespected who?”

“Don’t get smart with me. Do you realize what you’ve done? They’re never going to call us now.”

“Good. I hope they don’t.” I said as I got up and made my way upstairs.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking, Amani.”

“For the millionth time, my name is Madinah.” I was a few steps away from my room when I ran into my dad.

“What’s all the yelling?” He asked, adjusting his glasses that always managed to slip slightly off his nasal bridge.

“Hi habibi,” I answered, making my best effort to hide my cracking voice.

“Hi honey,” he paused for a few seconds “I assume tonight didn’t go well.”

“At all,” I said threw myself back on my bed “Mrs. Sahib was horrible, and the worst thing was that Mother loved her.”

“I’m sorry, happened?”

honey,”

he

said,

“what

“I don’t feel like talking about it,” I sighed, “but I think I managed to chase that lady off.”

He chuckled. His gentle laugh caused the pounding of my heart to calm down.

“She just couldn’t keep her mouth shut, again. Thirty guys she repelled. Thirty!

I swear I don’t know what’s wrong with your daughter, but she’s definitely not the same person she used to be before she went overseas.”

“I think you broke the world record of turning down proposals. What number is this guy? Twenty-nine?”

“I was the same person all along,” I said, trying to override her voice “You just didn’t know it.”

I stared at the ceiling as I talked to him.

There were these small round pieces of paper that stuck to the ceiling. My doing.

When I was young I had read in a magazine that if you chew little pieces of paper and threw them to the ceiling they would stick.

Mother was furious with me. She had asked me to take them down several times when I was younger, but I always pretended to forget, and she just gave up with time.

Sixteen pieces of paper.

I slammed my bedroom door, and the picture frame next to it shook slightly. I dropped on the bed and buried my head in my pillow. Mother was still shouting, and I could hear my father’s voice as he tried to calm her down. I covered my ears with the sides of the pillow and closed my eyes.

I didn’t want to cry, but tears managed to escape from my eyes and stain my pillow. I shouldn’t cry. Stop crying.

I tried to force myself to sleep, but as soon as I started dozing off, my phone started ringing. I rubbed my eyes before I reached for it from my nightstand. The blinking screen showed his name.

“Thirty. And Mother goes crazier every time.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m counting the pieces of paper on my ceiling.”

“Sixteen?”

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“Sixteen,” I smiled and let out a deep sigh.

“Honey, when are we going to tell our families about us?”

“Soon, habibti, soon.”

“I can’t keep this act much longer. Things are getting impossible with Mother. I can’t live under the same roof with her anymore.”

“You know it’s a complicated situation. My mother already made up her mind of who I should marry. It’s not easy just to go and tell her I’m in love with another girl, one I met in college and dated behind their back” “I know,” I sighed. “I’m just tired of all this.

Just promise me things will eventually work one day, and I’d be happy to turn down another thirty guys.”

He laughed. “I love you.”

Someone started knocking on my door before I got the chance to respond.

“Madinah, can we talk?” my father asked from the other side of the door.

“I’ll call you later.” I hung up my phone and straightened up as I motioned to open the door.

“Hey,” my father whispered. “Can we sit?”

I nodded and walked him towards my bed.

“I assume Mother told you everything” I said. He smiled. I waited for him to talk.

He always took his time before he spoke, so that by the time his words came out, they seemed memorized by heart.

“I assume your mother exaggerated things a tad, but I think you could have been nicer to Mrs. Sahib.”

“But dad, she was a snob.”

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“Let me finish talking, Madinah.”

I pressed down my lips as I chewed on the inside of my mouth.

“I know Mrs. Sahib’s son. We've been going to the same mosque for years. He’s a very nice, educated guy. He even comes to the morning prayer, even though he’s a busy graduate student. I would hate to see you end things just because of his mother.”

He paused, and after a while I realized he was done talking. I lowered my gaze to my hands.

“I really think it’s over, dad,” I said.

“I know Mrs. Sahib’s husband. I can talk to him to straighten things up, and I can also have you and Ahmad talk to get to know each other, just like you wanted.”

“Dad. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Even if he and I get along, his mother and I probably never will.”

“Don’t worry about his mother. Somehow there are always problems with the in-laws.

Just focus on the guy.”

I cracked my joints as I tried to gather my thoughts into a coherent sentence. My father paced around the room, then busied himself looking at the titles of books on my desk.

“I really don’t feel ready to get into a relationship dad. I need to focus on myself right now.”

“Madinah, it seems like you always find excuses every time a guy proposes. You need to be more decisive,” he pulled out my desk chair and sat facing me “Listen, I know things have been hard after your unfortunate experience, but it’s been six years now. I assure you Ahmad is a great guy. He will treat you with nothing but

utmost respect and compassion.” My father patted my knee as he got up and made his way to the door “I trust that you will make a mature decision. Good night, Madinah.”

I rested the back of my head on the bedframe, thinking about a reasonable way to get out of this situation. There were many occasions when I was so close to telling my dad about Mustafa. I had met him during my undergraduate studies in the US. He was a sophomore when I was a freshman. We had a math class together. At first, he’d asked if we could study together, and I’d hold him I was respectable girl who did not befriend guys. I was very shy back then. But that did not seem to stop him. He continued finding excuses to talk to me in class. I hated him at first, with his confident attitude and sneaky, beautiful brown eyes.

But one night before my finals, I’d studied at the library until 2 am, and was too scared to walk back to my apartment. He was at the library by coincidence, or at least that was what he said, and he’d walked me home that night. He started calling frequently to check on me. Then his phone calls became longer and more frequent. I’d later told him that I was uncomfortable talking to him secretly. It was not right, but he told me he was serious about me and that he would talk to his parents so he could officially propose to me. Four years had passed since then.

My phone screen started blinking in the darkness of my room, and I realized I forgot to call Mustafa back.

“Hey.”

“So you got everything settled down?”

“I don’t know,” I tied my hair into a loose ribbon. “Dad seems serious about things this time.”

“Just keep stalling,” Mustafa said.

“Mustafa, it’s not that easy,” I sighed deeply “This guy is practically an angel in my parents’ eyes.”

“You’ll figure something out.”

“And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

I switched my phone to my other side as I took off my earrings.

“Say I went through the trouble and got out of it this time. Will you then talk to your mom?”

“Madinah, we’ve been over this. I’m waiting for the right time” “But I’m tired of waiting,” I took a deep breath. “I’m tired of going through every time with my parents.”

“You’re just tired from your overwhelming night,” he said. “You know I’m trying to work things out. All I need you to do is be patient. I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else.”

“What happened?”

“So, what’s the problem?” Mother asked as she sat across from me at the dinner table, her protruding veins dividing her forehead.

“Nothing,” I rested my phone between ear and shoulder as I changed from my uncomfortable dress to my pajamas. “My father came in to talk things over.”

“I don’t know,” I stammered. “I just did not feel comfortable with him.” I took one bite of my cold chicken and rice and stared down at my plate.

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“Are you being serious? After all your father went through to fix the damage you’ve done?”

“Sameera, let’s hear her out,” father said quietly, “Madinah, why are you doing this?”

“Dad, I didn’t like him. I talked to him and I didn’t like him.”

“For God’s sake Amani,” Mother pushed back her chair, and her dinner utensils scattered on the floor. “You’re marrying him whether you liked him or not. I’m calling his mother right now to arrange everything.”

“I’m not marrying him.”

Mother sprinted out of the living room to the room next door and came back with her phone.

“Now I think I have her phone number saved. Yes, there it is.”

“You’re not calling her.”

“Sameera, slow down,” my father got up and held her phone. “Madinah, enough of this. Now why are you refusing to marry Ahmad?”

“I don’t know, dad. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“Madinah, let’s all be adults,” my father said, as he sat back down at the dinner table. “You’re hurting yourself more than us when you keep turning down proposals. Do you think people will always be interested in you? Soon the marriage train will pass by, and you’ll end up being an outcast by society.” He picked up my mother’s fork form the floor and placed it neatly next to her full dinner plate.

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“I’ve always tried to be understanding of your situation, Madinah, but I’m beginning to feel you think this is a fun game. I hate to do this, but you’re making a huge mistake, and I’ll have to put my foot down on this one.”

I looked my father, his glasses fogged around the edges by a few fingerprints.

My ears stung as my heart beat to a fast rhythm.

“Dad, please.”

“Madinah, it’s for your own good. I honestly thought you were more mature than this.” He got up and took out his car keys from his Thoab pocket. “I need to go to a wedding now. We’ll talk when I come home.”

I suppressed my tears as he walked away, while Mother stood a few paces away, phone still in hand.

“Even your dad has had enough of your behavior,” she said as she sat back down. “America changed you. Maybe we shouldn’t have let you go study there in the first place.”

I walked to my room, and as soon as I locked my door, tears poured down, stinging my cheeks and dripping down my chin. I wiped my nose with the edge of my sleeve and tried to take a deep breath.

I took out my phone and called Mustafa.

“Hi habeebati.”

“You have to tell your parents about us.”

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you crying?”

“I want you to go to your mom right now and tell her about me. I’ll wait on the phone.”

“Madinah, happened?”

what’s

wrong?

What

“Don’t call me habeebti,” I said with a choked voice.

“My parents are about to force me to marry that guy. I need you to do something.”

My voice came out more desperate than I intended, and I regretted it even more when he lingered before he responded.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I won’t officially be engaged until next month, so we can still talk until then.”

“It’s been two years. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Madinah.”

“You either talk to your mother now or it’s over.”

“Madinah, it’s complicated,” he said after a pause, “my mother is a traditionalist. She already picked out a bride for me.”

I sat on my bed and closed my eyes as hard as I could.

“You’re going to talk to your mother, right?”

“Madinah, you don’t know my mother.”

“When did this happen?”

His breaths were long and faint.

“Just recently.”

“When?”

I hung up the phone and hurled myself on the bed. I sobbed until I had to flip my pillow to the other side. I felt something small fall on my forehead. I reached for it, and between my fingers was a round piece of paper. I lifted my head and raised my eyes to the ceiling. Fifteen pieces of papers stuck to the ceiling.

It was a rainy night. It rarely rained in Saudi Arabia. I sat in the living room, dressed in a long sleeveless turquoise dress. I wore my hair down. Mother had told me to. She was sitting next to me, spraying perfume and fixing my makeup.

My father walked in, dressed in his thoab and shimagh, smelling of Oud oil. Special occasions called for Oud. “Amani, are you ready for Ahmad to come in?”

“Not yet,” mother said as she fixed my lipstick and gave me one final spray of perfume. “Now she is.”

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“Two months ago,” he sighed, “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you let me have this whole argument with my family despite the fact that you already knew?”

“You don’t understand, habeebti, I couldn’t stand the fact of you being with someone else.”

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SESAME A New Research Center in the Middle East Professor Herman Winick Professor Emeritus, Stanford Linear Accelerator Center (SLAC)

Herman Winick is a Professor Emeritus at the Stanford Linear Accelerator Center (SLAC) and the Applied Physics Department of Stanford University.

As of 2010, his work has been largely focusing on the International Centre for Synchroton-Light for Experimental Science Applications in the Middle East (SESAME), which he was instrumental in starting in 1998.

Developed under the auspices of UNESCO & modeled on CERN, SESAME (Synchrotron-light for Experimental Science and Applications in the Middle East) is an intergovernmental research center just completed in Jordan. It enables world-class research by scientists from the Middle East, in attempt to prevent or reverse the brain drain. It will also build bridges between diverse societies, contributing to a culture of peace through international cooperation in science.

The centerpiece of SESAME is a new 2.5 GeV 3rd Generation Electron Storage Ring/Light Source (133.2m circumference, 26nm-rad emittance & 12 places for insertion devices), which will provide very intense light from infrared to hard X-rays for a wide range of basic and applied studies (e.g. regional biomedical and environmental issues, local archaeological objects). SESAME offers excellent opportunities to train 14 avicenna

local scientists and attract those working abroad to return to the Middle Eastern region. The project is governed by a Council which meets twice yearly and presently has 8 Members (Cyprus, Egypt, Iran, Israel, Jordan, Pakistan, Palestinian Authority, and Turkey). Members have collective responsibility for the project and provide the annual operations budget.

Jordan provided the site, building, and infrastructure. The facility will have the capacity to serve 25 or more simultaneous experiments. Seven Phase I beamlines are planned, two of which are now in operation. An inauguration event, hosted by the king of Jordan, was held on May 16, 2017.

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The SESAME building in Allan, Jordan1

The SESAME storage ring and first phase beam lines2

1 Sanders, Robert. "Campus to Share Expertise with Middle Eastern Research Center." Berkeley News. N.p., 09 July 2015.

Web. 29 May 2017.

2 Winnick, Herman, and Sekazi K. Mtingwa. "A Synchrotron Radiation Research Facility for Africa." Lightsources.org. N.p., 5 Sept. 2014. Web. 29 May 2017.

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“Song of the Reed” by Rumi Original Artwork Mina Mohtasham B. F. A. ’21, The Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts

From “Song of the Reed” by Rumi1 Translated by Coleman Barks Listen to the story told by the reed, of being separated.

"Since I was cut from the reedbed, I have made this crying sound.

Anyone apart from someone he loves understands what I say.

Anyone pulled from a source longs to go back.

At any gathering I am there, mingling in the laughing and grieving

1 Rumi, Jalal Al-Din. “Song of the Reed.” The Essential Rumi. Trans. Coleman Barks. New York: Harper Collins, 2004. p.17-19. Print.

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Economic Difficulties in Predominantly Muslim Regions of Russia Ravi Patel MS Candidate, Biology, Stanford University William Healzer Class of 2018, Bellarmine College Preparatory, San Jose, California

Ravi Patel is currently a graduate student in the Department of Biology at Stanford University. He serves as a research assistant to Secretary William J. Perry. Ravi also is the executive director of the Stanford U.S.-Russia Forum.

William Healzer is currently a junior at Bellarmine College Preparatory in San Jose, California. He is an intern at the Preventive Defense Project at Stanford University.

While the Russian economy in the Caucasus stagnates, local oblasts struggle to find foreign investors and financiers capable of salvaging local economies.

Many of the nation’s 83 regions have elected to focus on European and East Asian markets, as evidenced by recent deals involving Kaliningrad and Bavaria, as well as recent discussions between Kaluga and Vietnam. Meanwhile, several of Russia’s predominantly Muslim republics attempt to attract foreign financial support through traditional Islamic economic practices.1 However, the Kremlin has attempted to block the establishment of entrenched relationships between its regions and the Middle East, and it also has worked to prohibit economic ventures conducted by Islamic financiers in the nation that do not directly work with Moscow. Russian leaders fear that its Muslim republics may grow distant from Moscow, due to both high domestic security threats from 1 "Russia's Muslim Regions Turn to the Gulf for Help."

Stratfor Worldview. N.p., 18 July 2016.

Web. Apr. 2017.

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radicalized jihadists and fears of resumed fighting in Chechnya after warfare plagued the region in the late 20th century.2 After the Caucasus Wars, many Muslim immigrants have entered Russia, and one in every seven Russians is now a practicing Muslim.3 A majority of these Muslims live in Russia’s eight autonomous Muslim republics: Chechnya, KarachayCherkessia, Bashkortostan, Tatarstan, Kabardino-Balkaria, Dagestan, Adygea, and Ingushetia. After fighting in the region ended, the Russian government reluctantly agreed to grant the regions the right to choose their own primary language, such as Tatar instead of Russian, constitutions, elect their own presidents, and create a local security force, provided that they comply with official Russian regulations.4 2 Ibid.

3 "The World Factbook: RUSSIA." Central Intelligence Agency. Central Intelligence Agency, 12 Jan. 2017. Web. Apr. 2017.

4 Markedonov, Sergey. "Chechnya Has Come a Long and Hard Way since the 1990s."Russia Direct. Russia Direct, 22 Dec. 2016. Web. Apr. 2017.

Russia’s Muslim republics have recently become vital parts of domestic economic ventures, due to the region’s rich oil deposits and access to other natural resources. Infrastructure in Bashkortostan and Tatarstan has enabled businessmen to grow the local economy and create successful local banks. The bank in Tatarstan is considered by many foreign economic experts, including John Mauldin and George Friedman, to be one of Russia’s most reliable and important economic institutions.5 However, economies in Chechnya and Dagestan, continue to struggle in the wake of nearly two decades of war with Russia, like their North Caucasian neighbors. These republics continue to rely on federal subsidies, which comprise at least eighty percent of the Chechen and Dagestani budgets and more than half of the other North Caucasus regions' budgets.6 7 Recent decreases in the price of Russian oil has hurt local economies, therefore pressuring leaders to seek support from allies in the Islamic World.

While Tatarstan and Bashkortostan have had relatively large success in attracting foreign markets—foreigners invested 1.3 billion USD in Tatarstan and 209 million USD in Bashkortostan in 2015—leaders in the North Caucasus struggle immensely to find foreign aid.8 In response, several of these regions have considered adopting Islamic lending laws to resolve this struggle. These laws would be greatly beneficial to the region, not 5 Mauldin, John, and George Friedman. "4 Warning Signs Of Instability In Russia." Forbes.

Forbes Magazine, 23 Feb. 2017. Web. Apr. 2017.

6 Tabakh, Anton. "How Long Until Russia's Financial Reserves Run Out?" Carnegie Moscow Center. N.p., 27 Oct. 2016. Web. Apr. 2017.

7 "Russia's Muslim Regions Turn to the Gulf for Help."

Stratfor Worldview.

8 Ibid.

only because they could potentially attract Middle Eastern investors, but also because they prohibit interest that currently bogs down the local economies. Analyst Lauren Goodrich believes that “from the republics' perspective, the use of Islamic financing would draw the interest not only of Muslim consumers at home but also of other Muslim states,” thereby improving the local economy.9 However, Islamic financing is illegal in Russia because it does not require interest and it encourages banks to engage in commercial interests.10 In 2014 and 2015, 25 billion USD were invested into the region by Middle Eastern powers. However, the Russian Direct Investment Fund tightly controlled these resources.11 If these Russian regions are to engage Middle Eastern powers, it would likely increase their Gross Regional Products, improve the quality of living for its residents, and build local infrastructure.

As regional leaders in provinces such as Tatarstan and Chechnya work with Saudi, Indonesian, and Emirati financiers in attempts to secure foreign funding, the future for these predominantly Muslim regions is bright. Perhaps the integration of global economies into the North Caucasus can reshape geopolitics in the Middle East, transforming the region from a having a reputation as a hotbed of radical terror into a growing and perhaps leading economy in the region.12

a

9 Ibid.

10 Sokolov, Denis. "Kennan Cable No.17: Russia's Other Pipeline: Migration and Radicalization in the North Caucasus." Wilson Center. Kennan Institute, 15 Aug. 2016.

Web. Apr. 2017.

11 Russia's Muslim Regions Turn to the Gulf for Help."

12 Sokolov, “Migration and Radicalization in the North Caucasus."

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We, the People (Hum Log) Original Calligraphy Nashwah Akhtar M. A. Public Diplomacy ’15, University of Southern California

We, the People (Hum Log) by Faiz Ahmed Faiz1 Translated by Riz Rahim In the heart, an array of snuffed out candles, Stunned by the bright sun, tired, bored— Like a fleeting image of a lover Quiet, wrapped in darkness— Discussion of gain-and-loss, beginning-and-end An old inquiry, a useless pursuit!

Bored by gray listless hours of the day, Unhappy with the past, apprehensive of the future, Recurring thoughts that remain unsatisfied, Burning tears that don’t even reach the eyes, A severe pain that can’t be poured into a song, Wouldn’t leave dark fissures of the heart And a chaotic search for some remedy, A craving for desert and prison, A search for a torn garment.

1 Rahim, Riz. In English, Faiz Ahmed Faiz: Faiz Ahmed Faiz A Renowned Urdu Poet. N.p.: Xlibris, 2008.

Print.

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Women in Islamic Cities: Privacy and Power Sao Bac B.A. Philosophy '18, Stanford University

Political developments altering the relationship between the West and the Islamic world and a new wave of feminism have led to an increasing number of conversations centered on the role of women in Muslim societies.

Unfortunately, these conversations often contain misconceptions about the gendered power-dynamics, and one of the major misconceptions is how privacy (or modesty) standards actually affect women.

Many writings on the role of women in Islamic societies separate the lenses of privacy and power. Writings addressing the lens of privacy reference the spatial separation of men and women, where men inhabit the public spheres as women inhabit the private spheres. Meanwhile, the lens of power often highlights the limits and freedoms of women in pursuing particular actions under Islamic scripture or in actual practice with reference to specific historical figures.

However, there is not much literature that makes explicit connections between privacy standards and the extent of power held by women in Islamic cities. This essay seeks to understand how privacy standards placed upon Muslim women in historical Islamic civilizations manifest in gendered power dynamics. I argue that although women usually did not have power in 22 avicenna

the public sphere of political and civic life, privacy standards in Islamic cities gave women powers and privileges in the private and semi-private sphere of family and neighborhood that were not available to men.

There are varying sources of evidence that I could have chosen analyzed to prove this point, three of which are historical evidence (in the form of important events and individuals), legal evidence, and archaeological evidence. This essay will focus primarily on archaeological evidence (specifically urban structures and layout), but also give special attention to specific historical details in order to form a picture of the lived, practical, roles and experiences of women (as opposed to the theoretical and idealized). As a roadmap, I will examine the women’s experiences in private spaces (the home), semi-private spaces (the neighborhood), and public spaces (central gathering spaces).

The Islamic home exemplifies the significance of privacy in Muslim communities. Despite the Islamic world covering such a vast amount of regions and climates, Islamic housing structures (both permanent and temporary) were especially concerned with protecting the sanctity of the family, a major part of

which was secluding the women.1 This preoccupation with privacy presents itself across the Islamic world through the key architectural features of a home like the entrance, windows, and the buffer zone2 between the private family space and the space open to visitors.

Entrances to Islamic homes were often angled in order to limit the line of sight from the door, which often were small cutouts from the larger gate to begin with.3 This is in contrast to Roman homes, where the fauces (entryway) offered a long line of sight through the atrium and garden and the doors were always open, except in mourning periods. Windows in Islamic homes were also strategically placed or designed in order to maximize the family’s privacy. The most widely discussed type of window is the mashrabiya, which is characterized by intricate wooden latticework and projection outward from the plane of the house’s walls. Janet AbuLughod in her discussion of private homes in the Islamic world explains that this window facilitates an asymmetrical reality, where men (outside) would not able to see women, but from within their houses women were able to see outwards and gaze at men however much they wished.4 This is an important instance of the direction of privacy, which I will expand on later in this paper.

In Sana’a, where the homes are designed vertically and multiple stories tall, there is a mutual understanding between 1 Insoll, Timothy. “The Domestic Environment.” in The Archaeology of Islam. (Blackwell, 1999) 62.

2 I consider spaces like courtyards in courtyard homes, the stairwell in Sana’as tower houses, and the hallways of Anatolian homes.

3 Bianca, Stefano. “Components of Urban Form I: The Residential Unit.” in Urban Form in the Arab World: Past and Present. (Thames and Hudson, 2000) 74.

4 Abu-Lughod, Janet. “The Islamic City: Historic Myth, Islamic Essence, and Contemporary Relevance.”

International Journal of Middle East Studies 19(1987) 167.

neighbors that their homes must not be able to overlook one another and see into each other’s windows. Sana’a is also an interesting city to look at when understanding the role of privacy in Islam because of its history as a Jewish city.

Jewish homes differed greatly from Muslim ones in height. Muslim homes were built upwards and were six to ten stories high, while the homes of Jews were restricted to two stories in order to preserve the privacy of Muslim women.5 Sana’a also provides an interesting contrast to many Muslim homes in its placement of the main reception room, for male visitors.

The best reception room was at the very top of the building. In uncoordinated spaces, this might entail the guests travelling through the private areas of the house in order to get to the more public reception room. However, stairwells in Sana’a’s tower homes were designed as a buffer zone. It was possible to ascend through all the levels without interrupting the private space because the stairwell was separated from the rest of the space. There is also special detail in avoiding inappropriate chance encounters in the stairwell by having “strategically placed wooden grilles which allow women to observe who is on the stairs.”6 However, the most common type of house in the Arabo-Islamic world was the courtyard house. These houses are aptly named for their courtyards because of the way all of the rooms (or baits, in the much larger homes) were centered around the courtyard. There is an implied functionality in the courtyard because it provided ample lighting (as with Greek courtyard homes), but it also served as a buffer space separating the male reception 5 Insoll 71.

6 Insoll 70-71.

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rooms from the female private space.

Though, in very wealthy households there were female reception rooms as well. The details of features overlooking and surrounding a courtyard often allow women to spectate, even if not participate, male affairs. For example, in Syrian courtyard homes there was the maqad, a covered loggia overlooking the courtyard that was used primarily by women. The women could look into the courtyard without having to worry about being seen.

Meanwhile, in Iraqi courtyard houses there was the kabishkan, a low mezzanine where women retreated to when the main floor was being used for male reception. The kabishkan had windows where women could look into the ursi where guests were being received.7 The importance in outlining the specific features of the house rests in how these distinctive features promote privacy and seclusion of women from men, but also help facilitate a direction of privacy where women become unseen spectators.8 However, I will attempt to curb my own hopeful biases by briefly entertaining the possibility that women’s resourceful usage of these features are a happy accident. For example, even without privacy benefits the mashrabiya would still have been incredibly useful in the hot climates where it is found because of its ability to simultaneously let in a breeze and filter out excessive sunlight. Furthermore, it is important to note the class distinctions when it comes to implementation of some of these distinctive features of the home.

Wealth was required for ornate mashrabiya windows and very often homes simply did not have windows at street level.9 Nonetheless, the tangible results of these 7 Bianca 94.

8 Abu-Lughod 167.

9 Insoll 63.

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features, intentional or not, gave women access to the lives of men, but limited men’s access to the women.

On the note of wealth, it is also important to understand how wealthier families were more able to achieve the ideal level of gender separation than poorer families.10 Unsurprisingly, the surviving homes studied by scholars and archaeologists belonged to the very wealthy. There is much less attention given to poorer members of society, though we know the Islamic pillar of almsgiving often supported them.

However, on the point of the power of women, it appears that poorer women had mobility outside the home because they were required to do chores that brought them outside the house (e.g. getting water from the well).11 Interestingly enough, it appears that the needs of poorer women, whose houses were too small to contain the many activities the women were responsible for, helped create the narrow dead end streets which mark Islamic neighborhoods. It is also because of this, that the neighborhoods were an extension of the home and family.12 These semi-private spaces (as termed by AbuLughod) are not open to strangers or people who are not part of the cohesive neighborhood unit. From her exploration of Arab cities, Janet Abu-Lughod remarks:

"I am often struck, as I wander around Arab cities, with how easy it is to tell whether I am in a public space or have blundered into semi-private space. I have often tried to identify the markers that indicate this. A sudden narrowing of the path...is a sign of the shift, especially when the road widens again soon afterwards. But even when the 10 Abu-Lughod 167.

11 Cohen, David. "Separation, Seclusion, and the Status of Women in Classical Athens." in Greece and Rome (1988) 7.

12 Abu-Lughod 168.

spatial semiotics are absent, the personal ones are present. There is the questioning look or the approach of someone wanting to help but clearly also wanting to know." 13 I find Abu-Lughod’s remarks noteworthy on the pervasiveness of the ideas of privacy in application to the significance it has on the relationship neighbors and community members have with one another. The strength of neighborhoods is a prominent marker of the Islamic urban layout, so neighborhood features are able to highlight a lot about the lived experiences of Muslim individuals. The fact that neighborhoods exist as a semi-private space show the extent of how the needs of women have shaped Islamic society. Women’s need for mobility and space to carry out their tasks but also the need for “privacy” determined the structure of neighborhoods. However, the neighborhood’s accommodation is representative of the larger significance of privacy in Islam.

Often overlooked when discussing gendered privacy in Islam is its universal importance for all members. If we narrowly view the situation of privacy and assume that only the women have responsibilities to conduct their actions in spaces where men cannot see them, of course the power dynamic is totally skewed. However, the men also have responsibilities. Cohen in his overall discussion of Mediterranean social structures explains that the men also have an onus to not be home during the day, and to leave the domestic spaces for their wives and children.14 Alternatively, this is also apparent in the fact that men visiting each other’s homes are not allowed into the private spaces. It would be a taboo for a male guest to venture beyond the reception room or other approved 13 Ibid.

14 Cohen 6.

spaces because it would signify disrespect for the sanctity of the household that is being visited. This point becomes more significant in helping us understand the extent of women’s powers when it is revealed that women and children have the freedom to venture into these spaces.15 As pointed out in critiques of the idea that women were restricted to private spaces, while men had the freedom to move about in public spaces, Muslim women were not immobile.16 More than that, female public spaces have often been wrongly categorized as part of the private sphere. For example, watering wells are hardly private spaces, but were frequented by women and often used as a social gathering space. However, the common social gathering spaces for women seem to exclude wealthy women.

Wealthy women would not have had any excuse to go to the watering well when they have servants to perform laborious tasks. However, what can be applied to wealthy women as well as poorer women is that they visited one another. As earlier mentioned, very wealthy households even had separate ornate female reception rooms. For poorer women, visiting a friend’s home probably entailed going into the private space of the house that was normally reserved for family.

The interactions of women within the house are interesting and show the power given to matriarchs. This plays out in the organization of the traditional Muslim family unit. The largest level of relation a group of people could have was being part of the same tribe, then clan, and within clans there was the multi-generational family.

At the tribe level (sometimes manifesting itself in the form of a neighborhood), there is a seemingly political leader, a 15 Bianca 75.

16 Insoll 64-65.

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male sheikh. At the level of the clan there is a dominant male ancestor who relates the clan through blood. However, within the house, within the female society, the mother or grandmother was the leading personality.17 Historically, there were also many prominent Muslim women whose powers extended far beyond the family and into the public sphere. In “Women in Islamic Civilisation: Their Rights and Contributions” Islamic scholar Elmira Akhmetova lists many examples of women’s contributions to Islam. These examples range from al-Shifa binti ‘Abdullah, who was a universally respected scholar, healer, and wise woman, appointed by Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab to the position of bazaar-inspector18 (which meant she had supreme access to the marketplace, one of the significant public components of Islamic cities) to Fatima al-Fihri who used her great inheritance to build Fez’s al-Qarawiyin, which at its height was a leading scholastic institute that facilitated religious and political discussion.19 Looking at women’s great contributions and participations in the public spheres (which are thought to belong exclusively to men) of market and institution, it can be said that the pervasive privacy standards present in historical Islamic societies still allowed women enough power to make tangible, long-lasting contributions.

Nonetheless, it would be foolish to let the glory of a few great women overcast the lived experiences of the majority of women in the Islamic past. These women, with the exception of a very few from the early periods of Islam (during the Prophet’s lifetime and in the time of the 17 Bianca 75.

18 Akhmetova, Elmira. "Women in Islamic Civilisation: Their Rights and Contributions." Islam and Civilisational Renewal 7, no. 4 (October 2016): 479 19 Akhmetova 480.

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first caliphs), were usually the daughters or wives of important and distinguished men.

The mechanism that gave many prominent women of Islamic history such great power, despite the standards imposed on them, was their men’s power. While women are allowed to do as they wish in private spheres, or female public spheres, the public spheres of civic life and politics were off limits to them. This makes sense given that the nature of public life requires being seen and recognized in order to gain followers. As has been established throughout this essay, women were unseen spectators.

In conclusion, the direction of privacy that pervaded Islamic cities across the regions gave women power in domestic and familial spheres, but hindered their ability to independently gain power in political spheres. The archaeological evidence of Islamic style houses shows the care that was put into promoting privacy in a way that did not limit women’s power within the private sphere of the home. The prevalence of artifacts like the mashrabiya or other screens is representative of women’s power to observe the lives of men and the restraints put on men. The formation and usage of narrow neighborhood streets as semiprivate spaces where women were free to pursue their daily tasks shows how Islamic cities catered to the roles of women—even if to paternalistically protect them from outsiders. The prominent contributions of women to Islamic progression in history shows that women were still afforded some power in the public sphere, but there was not true independence because this power was a result of male appointments or allowances. Islamic standards of privacy for women intertwined aspects of patriarchal limitation as well as empowerment and protection.

The application of understanding the

dynamic relationship between privacy and power as it relates to women in historical Islamic societies is important in the modern day for a multitude of reasons. A nuanced understanding of the way privacy lends itself to the amount of power Muslim women hold better equips us to properly understand the political conversations that affect them. For example numerous Western European countries are discussing legislation (or have already passed legislation) what would ban the veil, which is a tool for women to retain privacy and modesty standards while they are outside their private domestic spatial spheres. Given what we know about the pervasiveness and importance of privacy within Muslim communities, it could be argued that the veil is a source of empowerment to devout Muslim women because it allows them to freely travel into public spaces without worrying about the inappropriate gaze of men who are not related to them. There are also important repercussions for understanding the current state of Islamic gender affairs.

Elmira Akhmetova actually wrote her piece centered around the argument that historically Islam empowered women in scholastic pursuits and that it was only later political developments that led to the declining role of women in Islamic civil life. Janet Abu-Lughod wrote her piece with the intention of properly advising Islamic countries on city planning and urban development, by pointing out that the urban layouts of historical Islamic cities happened organically, and with the shifting roles of women the city layout also benefits from change. Overall, further insight into how privacy standards affect women and the city is necessary to understand the repercussions of political decisions.

a

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Poems of Rumi Original Translation Foad Mir B.S. Electrical Engineering, University of Massachusetts, Amherst

Foad Mir is an Iranian-American filmmaker and author based in Berlin and San Francisco.

The People of Saba1 Dear reader, you may not have heard the legend of the people of Saba, or you may have only heard a sketchy version, a faint echo of the actual story, as it is so often the case with ancient tales. But how much does the mountain understand of the echo? After the voice falls silent, does the mountain not cease to reverberate? Does it not fall silent too?

There was once a superb land, in the far reaches of the world, beyond the deserts of Arabia. The Kingdom of Saba was a wondrous, strange land, where all was beautiful and rich, where order was the mirror of affluence, where life was good, where it was sweet to breathe and disorder, turbulence, and the unforeseen were excluded. It was a land where all was beautiful, clean, shining like a clear conscience, like splendid jewelry of gold, like multicolor adornment of silver. Great treasures were found there; it was a singular land, as superior to others as art is superior to nature. There were enormous ships drifting beneath their loads of riches; there were ships gorged with treasures of the Orient, ships that came back to the ports.

1 Rumi, Muhammad Jalaluddin. Mathnawi Ma'anawi (Meditative Couplets), Ed. Reynold A. Nicholson, Hermes Publishers, Tehran, Iran, 2005.

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The people of Saba had great affluence— castles, palaces, and lush orchards.

Everyone had more than enough. But they had has lost all sense of proportion. Theirs had become a culture of rampant instant gratification, not of gratitude, loyalty, and balance.

Critics said canines had more gratitude and loyalty than the people of Saba.

Dissenting voices said: “We want no palaces of crystal—we desire no beautiful orchards, no images of fair women, neither the safety nor the ease.”

Even the convenience of the city life was spurned by some, who preferred the adventures of deserts. Man craves winter in summer; when winter comes, he likes it not. Man is never content with the state of things. When he obtains what he sought, he spurns it. When the people of Saba’s excesses had crossed all bounds, their pundits admonished them; but they did not heed the advice of pundits and sought to persecute them. Their foolishness led them astray. It was as if they had been struck by bubonic plague.

This is an ancient fable, mysterious and at times banal, but among all the nonsense uttered by all sides, you will find words of

wisdom and a lesson or two: There was once a large city, a populated multifaceted metropolis, that extended in all directions. Corruption had become rampant there: its inhabitants recoiled from confronting their own nature. But they were endowed with great abundance— estates and orchards and meadowlands.

And many led lives of luxury. Travelers stood in amazement at the plenty they saw.

Thirteen prophets came to admonish the people of Saba, to provide them with new guidance: “Behold, with such great abundance, where are your virtues and where is your temperance? Reason requires that a people live with great virtues, otherwise they will stray and bring everlasting wrath upon themselves. Hark, behold the benevolence of heavens! They expect piety and devotion!”

The people replied: “We have grown weary of all talk of gratitude, piety, and devotion! We abhor heavenly bounties and rewards. We desire neither piety nor sins, neither lavish gardens, nor orchards.”

The prophets retorted: “In your hearts, there is a malignant disease, for you rebel against divine authority. When abundance comes to the impious, its purity turns into darkness, its sweetness turns into bane.

If one becomes your friend, you show him contempt. As for the ones beyond your reach, you see them as grand and venerable.

That too is a symptom of illness: its poison pervades your hearts. It behooves you to seek a cure for that malady; for it causes you to confound sugar with mire, pleasure with nausea.

That macabre illness is the elixir of death and woe; it is the road to doom and perdition.

There is nourishment that could revive the spirit; but inside the body, it begins to rot.

There was a heart that you set out to conquer; once you succeeded, you lost all interest in her.

When the intellect comes to know another intellect in sincerity, devotion will go on increasing. Friendship with a base soul is doomed; a sordid spirit suffers from an illness that corrupts friendship. Therefore, seek friendship with the intelligent.

When friendship diminishes, what once seemed to be wisdom will seem tasteless— one says to the other: ‘I heard that many times; it is old now: pray tell something new!’

If something fresh be said, that too will be old in the morrow. Once the disease eating away at friendship is cured, old tales will seem fresh; a good ancient tale can make a hundred flowers bloom.

We are the physicians, disciples of Truth: we are the ones who made the Red Sea part.

The physicians dedicated to the sciences, they look into the heart and measure its pulse.

But we look well into the human heart through clairvoyance.

Those physicians of nutrition—they seek to fortify the animal soul.

We are the physicians of the Logos, inspired by divine light.

We can tell you what deeds will be profitable to you, what will be to your detriment.

Our words will lead you forth along the Way, while others will lead you astray.

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Earthly physicians base their diagnosis on urine samples; but ours is evidence of divine preambles.

But why do you seek evidence in bright daylight? Seek the vision and accept the Divine command!”

And we seek no fees: our wages come from the high up.

But ever suspicious of the prophets the People of Saba replied:

Hark, come forth to heal your incurable disease!

“This is all fraud and deceit!

We are the ones who can soothe your pains.

Every messenger that comes from a sovereign must be of his kind.

We are the bearers of good news.”

How can an earthly being come down from the Creator of the heavens?

The people replied:

Did you think that we ate donkey’s brain or that we would take a fly for the Phoenix?

“O you company of impostors, where is your evidence?

What knowledge of medicine, and what profit?

Are you not bound, as we are, to this same sleep and food?

Do you not pasture in the country, entrapped by this same water and clay as we are?

Love of power induces men to claim the rank of prophets.

So we will neither be deceived, nor heed such vain boasts and lies.”

Where is earth compared to God? How are you related to the sun?

What resemblance is this and what connection is there?”

Someone even related this parable to prove the previous point, it was about a certain hare who claimed to have been sent down by the Moon: “Once upon a time in a remote jungle, a herd of elephants had monopolized all access to water.

All other beasts suffered from thirst.

The prophets said:

As their strength was inferior to that of the elephants, they devised a plot.

“Your refusal comes from the same malady, a veil which hinders you from seeing the truth—it is cause for blindness of the heart.

When the full moon came up, from a hilltop an old hare cried towards the elephants:

Ye have heard our call, and yet ye see not this gemstone that we bring—it is a test for the people.

‘O king of elephants, come forth so you may find our evidence in the spring—I am the emissary of the Moon. And the Moon says, “O elephants, depart! The spring is mine, away with you! Lo, here is my evidence—the reflection of Moon in the spring will be disturbed by your drinking from it. You shall then believe us!’

How can anyone ask us for further evidence?

Suppose the sun rises and says, ‘Arise, for the day has come!’

And suppose you say, ‘O sun, where is your evidence?’

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When on that night the elephants put their trunks in water, it was disturbed; the Moon’s reflection was distorted. So the

elephants believed the tale that the hare had told them and fled.”

And the People of Saba added: “O company of prophets, we are not like those silly elephants terrified by the disturbances of the lunar image in the water.”

you have been afflicted with blindness.

But if you take objects of stone for Truth, then why not take the intellect and the spirit for Truth?

In truth, the dead objects were made by you, whereas a living fly was made by God. But ye are in love with yourselves and objects that you manufactured.

Hark—Meddle not in divine business!

The prophets proceeded to reply: “Ah, O ye fools! What a ludicrous tale! Alas your words of wisdom have turned into your shackles!

What was meant as a remedy to your suffering, has turned into poison for the soul.

The lamp of the intellect has darkened your vision.

On what authority do you assert anything that you say?

Our authority reaches to the heavens!

Suppose a ship has been filled with dung— how is that supposed to bring glory to the sea of pearls?

Say the eyes have turned blind—will they recognize the sun?

Say Adam was peerless. Did Satan see anything but clay in him?

The eyes of the ignorant confuse springtime with winter.

Oh, many a fortune comes now and then to the unfortunate, but they stay away from it.

How often may a lover come unbeknownst to a lonely soul, and he will not know the ways of love.

What confounds the sight is to our detriment, and what confuses the mind is our pitfall.

If you prefer to worship stony idols, then

Behold how He fashioned the world to be well-proportioned, beautiful, and harmonious.

The mind and the eyes are as a pen held in the hand of a writer—fingers of grace and potency, and the heart writes out its content, now in a state of distress, now with ease.

O my pen, behold! Ask whose fingers hold you.

Your movements are commanded by these fingers.

The difference that you can make is at the crossroad of that workshop where choices are made.

These letters that you see are His calligraphy: Your purpose and the changes that you bring, are from Him. There is no way but the recognition of this fact.

Though not every pen be aware of it—the good is in the comprehension of necessity.

In your tale of struggle between the hare and the elephant, they just confused eternity with trickery. How do you come up with such parables to cast at the words of the Almighty?

It is for the Lord to make parables and allegories.

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He is the sole authority of all knowledge of that is hidden and the manifest.

thus: this will not be changed through your discourse.

How do you know of the hidden essence of anything?

A hundred years you may ask of the stone to turn into a ruby, a hundred years you may ask earth to turn into water—it is all in vain.

In fact, that hare who advised that trick was evil.

You spoke of the moon's image being disturbed in the translucent water.

To every one He allotted a certain course— that will not be altered.”

You spoke of the hare that frightened the elephants.

The prophets replied:

But the one who told you that story did not just deprive elephants of water.

He tried to deprive your foolish souls from the Elixir of Life!

And you perverted the parable—you uttered blasphemy.

Take your tale of the hare, the elephant, and the moon: What is the moon, what is the sun and what is the sky?

Besides, we too have tales with elephants!

Our birds of Ababil faced an army of elephants from the sky; and they routed them outside Mecca!

Who has not heard of the Flood of Noah, or of the battle of Pharaoh?

Open your eyes for once and hear our tales of elephants!

You pretend not to see the visible and the obvious; but think of death.

Though the world be full of sunlight, when you go into the grave, it will all turn dark.”

The people of Saba brought forth new arguments: “You admonish us; but what you have said is enough!

Reality has fortified our hearts.

Our Maker made the picture of us to be

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“He has assigned some qualities to each and every being. But He has also created qualities that are only accidental.

So a person hated today may become acceptable later. If you bid the stone to turn into gold, it is futile; but if you wish to turn copper into gold, you may do so through the science of Alchemy. He ordained for us maladies for which there is no remedy, such as blindness. He has also given maladies for which there are remedies, such the headache—the medical science is not in vain. Nay, most maladies have a cure: when you seek the cure in earnest, it will come to you.”

The people retorted: “O prophets, this malady of ours cannot be cured. For years we heard admonitions of this kind, and nothing has ever changed!”

The prophets said: “Despair is wrong: for the grace and the mercy of the Creator is infinite. After despair there is hope; after darkness there comes the sun. Behold! We have come through this Portal and we are not weary; on this journey, we have no need to rest.

In our hearts we have a rose-garden— no room for decay. We are fresh and full of graces. To us a hundred years seem like a single hour; for we live beyond the dimensions of time and space. We live in the realm of spirits. And if you have not tasted our wine, you can not imagine it!”

The people of Saba replied: “You seem so content with yourselves; but you are ill-starred for us and we reject you!

We were so carefree; and your discourse causes us grief and trouble. Because of your ominous presage our delightful harmony has been turned into discord. We were once happy birds; now we meditate on death. You came to spread tales of grief here with your tales.”

The prophets replied: “That ominous presage must have resonated with something within your souls. Say you are happily asleep in a perilous spot, and a dragon is nearby, approaching you. And someone says: ‘Rise and make a leap, lest the dragon devour you!’ ‘Why do you utter an evil presage?’ You will say. We will point at the fire rushing from afar. If you will not listen to our admonitions, the evil presage will go with you wherever you go.”

take other paths, temples, and religions.’”

Ode 605: The Moon Maker2 Which is sweeter, sugar or the sugar maker?

Which is fairer, the moon or the moon maker?

Put sugar out of your mind, my friend, And leave the moon behind.

He knows better. He is the eternal Maker.

Praise for the one who moves all things that are, And emanates the universe— He is the light that penetrates the heavens and the earth.

There are wonders in the sea besides the pearl.

None is wondrous like the king, the pearl maker.

If you show magnanimity to a generous man, he will give seven hundred times in return.

Even in the maritime realm, None surpass the wonders of the creator.

As for a villain, he will show loyalty only when you mistreat him.

There is water other than this water.

Incomparable and relentless, That water springs from a rare water wheel.

It is that water that nourishes the heart.

Show him kindness and he will be unkind.

Prison is like the cloister for the villain— that is where they’ll care for Truth.

Now recite this: ‘The purpose of the world is to adore the divine.

Though they made a book for the knowledge that it contains, you may use it to rest your head.

And so in this world you can engage in many sorts of business.

Humans may aim to seek reason and knowledge.

They may choose the Way, or they may

Without reason one cannot design a bathhouse.

Look into that science that our intellect uses to build.

Without science one cannot render oil from fat.

It is science that shows how the human brain is formed from the fat.

There are bewildered souls, famished and exhausted, 2 Rumi, Muhammad Jalaluddin, Divan Shams (Compendium of the Sun), Ed. Badi al-Zaman Forouzanfar, Negah Publishers, Tehran, Iran, 1998.

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Waiting for the sumptuous feast at dawn.

Happy is the dawn when my lover, the envy of the moon, Wraps her hands around my waist.

The heavens laugh at the boasting of the deluded; They are donkeys on a parade of vanity, Who throw themselves at the hay and they call it gold.

‘I am out of breath, I shall rest now,’ So says my lover, the joy of my sight and hearing.

Ode 749: Drunken Lover3 This morning, my lover came to me drunk, to tempt me.

O people, save me from the hands of my drunken lover.

Last night, my heart had leapt forth with a vision set in flight.

‘What will this heart and these eyes see ‘till dawn?’ I asked.

This morning I was in thought, when suddenly Your love rose to me joyfully, like the moon.

When earth, wind, water, and fire are all drunk with your love, Who am I to resist?

What will the fire of your love bring me?

What will it bring to earth and to wind?

All four elements are pregnant with your love.

And love is pregnant with you.

This world was born to the four elements, And the elements were all born to love.

3 Rumi, Muhammad Jalaluddin, Divan Shams (Compendium of the Sun), Ed. Badi al-Zaman Forouzanfar, Negah Publishers, Tehran, Iran, 1998.

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Ode 905: A Place4 Through love, I have reached a place that love knows not.

And things reached a point beyond which reason goes not.

The one who suffered a thousand oppressions, He used reason to seek the way to salvation.

Now that the intellect, hindered, cannot find a way to go forth, He must now study the causes—all that the Way shows not.

O my dear, now reason seems to have been unhinged.

Reason trades in signs; There is so much that love gives and reason bestows not.

Let a thousand spirits come to enfold the intellect.

Without the spirit of love, the river of life flows not.

She let you catch a glimpse of her beauty.

You sat by her side, and with a sleight of hand, She wrapped her hair around you, to have you entangled, Make an effort; let her take you there, enchanted.

If the gazelle pleads with the heart of a lion, A thousand other gazelles will be spared.

If the fowl is received into the heart of the hunter, A thousand birds captured, shall be set free.

Once the heart finds its way to the fair Sun of Tabriz, It shall across the heavens like the cavalry of the moon.

a

4 Ibid.

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A P E O P L E ’ S P U B L I C AT I O N

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