R.B.R. BARRETO
Allah is one, and all souls converge towards Him, whether they are aware of it or not.
Balam, the pilgrim, lived a rough and uncertain life. He chose to walk the paths as a dervish to worshiping Allah and fulfilling his desire to bring the relics of true Islam to the world and to everyone he met. Thus, he became a wanderer in middle age and had lost count of how old he was and how long he had been wandering. He was born in the lands of Turkey, where he learned the arts of reading, writing, astronomy, pharmacy, poisons and healing. After becoming a dervish and learning the Zikr and the art of Sama, he decided to venture out into the road, chose the desert and made it his home. He never had a roof over his head since he left his homeland. With body, mind and spirit, he learned to walk the vast Arabian desert, living through the four seasons, observing and learning from the elements and the weather. He uncovered many secrets, learned the paths that wanderers use to get to and from cities and tribes without being stopped by local customs, muggers, and other dangers. He lived in caves and caverns, walk in underground, met the jhins and the secrets they hold about almost everything. He also mastered many defense arts, concentration techniques, and mental and physical discipline. He thus became a master, a recognized sage, versed in the sacred scriptures and the sciences of the earth. He acquired prophetic and visionary gifts and, with the permission of Allah, the Almighty, could enter consciously into many worlds and know the past, present, and future of cities or countries, of kings or common people. He considered everyone who sought him out or met by chance to be disciples that Allah had sent him. And although he did not cultivate lasting relationships, he lovingly kept everyone in his memory and kept them in his prayers and care. According to him, each human being had his own light with colors that changed according to his emotional state, mental attitude and spiritual evolution. This was how he recognized and accompanied his disciples, even from afar.
Throughout his life, Balam had made countless pilgrimages to the three sacred mosques, Mecca, Medina and the Great Mosque of Jerusalem. On this journey he always took different paths where he accumulated disciples, new knowledge and experiences. When he met Kadir he was on one of these pilgrimages. He had no need to stop in that tribe, but he felt drawn to it. Every pilgrim was well received in the desert tribes, from the Middle East to the ends of Asia. They always gave them shelter and provided good food. In Kadir's tribe it was no different. The young man immediately caught his attention with his stubborn desire to be a saint. He had a personal idea of what sainthood meant and was convinced that Islam was not for everyone, but for special people. Kadir's colors, as well as his intentions, he observed, were pure, but very immature. He confused isolation with detachment and selfishness with humility. Even so, Balam recognized in him a sincere effort to want to be better every day. To learn the sacred scriptures and follow the path of the Prophet.
That was how, even without knowing it, Kadir became Balam's "disciple" even before he went to see him. The same thing happened with Aisha. The young gypsy, who had approached him casually without any pretension, caught the old dervish's attention. Love was the mark of her soul and, in an almost inconsequential and totally unrealistic way, she projected it onto the young heir of the tribe. This love exuded a color so strong and pure that it erased any other feeling she might have. Any hint of fear, ignorance or disbelief disappeared before the young woman's conviction to follow the source that she believed inspired such feeling. She never approached the two while she watched their meetings. She was always at a safe distance. But Balam knew that she followed his conversations, listened and wrote down his words and teachings in her memory and heart. The young prince never realized this furtive presence. But Balam did know of her presence and often spoke only to her. So that she would listen and learn.
When Balam left, he took with him the bonds he had formed with his two disciples, even if they didn't know it. He knew he would meet them again and that his departure would be the beginning of their adventure. Nothing went unnoticed by him; he could guess the plans they had in mind, each for a different reason.
"Allah, the Almighty, is the master of our destinies," he thought, "but he has given each of us a portion of free will. Let's see what our friends will do with the portion that is each one's lot."
A few moons later, between comings and goings, Balam was already very close to Mecca. He had met a troupe of dervishes and followed them for much of the way. Like all wanderers, he alternated between moments when he wanted to be alone and others when he sought the company of his brothers to pray together, practice collective rituals and perform the sacred dance during which, as he believed, they united each person's own lights with their counterparts in the universe. He was about to enter the great gorge that separated the most arid lands from the fertile lands of the coast when, during a trance, he was taken by a vision.
The whirling dance of the dervishes, performed in groups and to the sound of the recitation of the Zikr, provokes a state of deep trance that can lead to visions and raptures. Balam was accustomed to being overcome by visions. But this time, he was swept away to other frontiers. On the wings of a great bird, he found himself breaking through the interior furrows of the earth, exploring caves, flying over seas and reaching new and mysterious dimensions. He was on the wings of the Simorgh, for sure. He recognized it by the brilliant tone of the feathers that seemed alive and talking to each other. Balam was one of the rare dervishes who knew something of the language of birds. In the Simorgh, the message emerged from the movement of the feathers. They produced a soft, murmuring sound, accompanied by the smell of incense. Among all the wonderful things he was seeing and hearing on that fantastic flight, the old dervish knew that only one thing mattered – the Simorgh's message. What did he want to tell him? That was when he realized that he was not alone in that adventure. Between the bird's wings he noticed a sleeping figure in which he recognized the beautiful but sad colors of the young gypsy woman.
– Cailin?! Cailin?! – he called
He was not sure if he had been heard. He himself had heard his own voice as a distant clamor. He also did not know from which corner of his memory that name – Cailin – had emerged.
The bird continued along a distant trail until it reached the Oasis of Clarity, almost at the edge of the "end of the world". The "Oasis of Clarity" was part of a set of secret, sealed places that only the sacred and pure of heart know how to reach and recognize. They are beyond time and the reach of human instruments. They are portals to the invisible dimensions, connecting worlds and consciousnesses to the Creator of all things. Contemplating the sleeping young woman lost in the midst of that adventure, the old dervish confirmed what he had always believed: Allah is one, and all souls converge towards Him, whether they are conscious or not.
When Balam regained his consciousness, his body trembled with surprise and emotion. He had never come into contact with those mysteries, even in his most sublime visions. The Simorgh, for him, was just a distant dream that he did not dare touch. But, its message was clear in his mind. He had to leave. He had received an important call. He had to go find Aisha and bring her back. She was on one of the bridges on the path that can lead to Paradise or to the abyss of eternal night. Frontiers that the human soul sometimes faces when it has to choose between life and death. So, he gathered his few belongings, said goodbye to his companions and left.