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17 <strong>The</strong> <strong>Conference</strong> <strong>Of</strong> <strong>The</strong> <strong>Birds</strong> By Farid Ud-Din Attar<br />
“Gratification and disappointment of desires pertaining to the<br />
transient objects of this world are alike illusory,” replied the Hoopoe.<br />
“He cannot be said to be alive whose heart is attached to transient<br />
things. You have therefore no heart, my friend.”<br />
Another bird said, “O light of our eyes, I am ready to carry out the<br />
behests of the Lord. Whether He accepts my humble services or not, I<br />
am prepared to proffer them to Him.”<br />
“Well said,” replied the Hoopoe. “<strong>The</strong>re can be no better virtue than<br />
this. How can you take your soul to Him, if you carry with you your<br />
soul (consciousness of self) You will be able to take your soul to Him,<br />
only if you carry out his behests with your soul, surrendering it<br />
absolutely to His will.”<br />
“Remember,” continued the sage mentor, “such devotion and selfsacrifice<br />
are very noble, but there should be no trace of irreverence or<br />
want of decorum in such service. I will illustrate what I mean by a<br />
story. One day a king presented a robe of honour to one of his<br />
attendants. <strong>The</strong> fool wiped his face, which had been covered with dust,<br />
with the sleeve of his robe. A man happened to witness this vulgarity<br />
and reported the matter to the king. <strong>The</strong> attendant was at once<br />
beheaded.”<br />
“Explain to me, please, the mysteries of negation and selfannihilation,”<br />
said another bird. “I hold it unlawful for me to be<br />
absorbed in self. Whatever I touch stings me like a scorpion. I have<br />
therefore renounced all things, and it is my earnest prayer that I may<br />
be able to have a glimpse of the Royal Presence.”<br />
“It is not given to all,” said the Hoopoe, “to tread this path. <strong>The</strong> only<br />
provisions for the journey in the Path of Truth are total renunciation<br />
and selfanni-hilation. Consume to ashes whatsoever thou hast.”<br />
A FATHER’S LOVE<br />
An old man in Turkestan had two most beloved objects—his swiftfooted<br />
horse and his son. “I hold nothing dearer than these two,” said<br />
the old man, “but if anyone informs me that my son is dead, I would<br />
present to that person my favourite horse as a thanksgiving for the<br />
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