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Bakhtiyar Ali
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hands over his soul, man
should have the courage
to gaze into its darkness.
If not, what will he talk
about with the One, the
Omnipotent? Now I must
sharpen my eyesight, take
down my book of secrets
and open up my book of
sins.
The young man who
visited me that night was
me, myself, when I fell
for a shy, noble and most
honourable woman. No
one is unluckier than a
man who takes a fancy to
a modest woman. When I
die, sick, bedraggled insect
that I am, I will pluck up
all my courage to tell the
Lord of all creation that no
one is so as unlucky as he
whom God condemns to
fall in love with a shy and
honourable woman.
As I neared the end of my
life, my sole purpose to
increase my worship and
consolidate my faith, God
Almighty, He in whom
all creatures take pride,
inflicted upon me such an
ailment that I still smart
with it today, still simmer
with a suppressed anger
that boils up within me.
One day I awoke and found
myself in love, in love with
a modest woman whose
name was Baharbanu,
who was your late mother
– may her grave tonight be
filled with more light than
any other. Love is without
honour. Love alone is
above honour, the only
thing to which both God
and the Devil devote the
same degree of labour ...
I beg you, do not see this
as blasphemy or regard it
as the godless sentiment
of a soul without hope.
Love, my son, has two
faces; one painstakingly
created by the Devil, who
spent all his energy upon