The Wily Dervish Meets His Fate

There was once in the kingdom of Kashmir, a Dervish famed throughout the land for his learning and piety. Disciples from all over the country flocked round this holy, man to listen to his teaching and to minister to his needs.

One evening, a certain disciple approached the Dervish, bowed his head before the master and, with tears in his eyes, implored his help. "Sire," he cried out, "my daughter is now come of age. But, alas, where shall I find the wherewithal for her dower? Wretch that I am, who will take a beggar's daughter for his bride?"

The Dervish appeared to be lost in thought for a minute or two. "Go home, my son," he then gently advised the poor man. "All will be well. Infinite is Allah's mercy! Tomorrow I will invoke His blessings upon your child."

Early next afternoon, the disciple was nearly startled out of hip wits to see the great Dervish himself standing at his door. In a moment, the little household was in the wildest bustle you could think of. Did one ever hear of such high honour? They dusted an ancient and tattered carpet and spread it out for the guest. They plied him with delicious sweets to eat and sherbet to drink. The mistress of the house ran hither and thither on a hundred errands, chattering away in a delirium of excitement.

When the Dervish had rested awhile, his host led his daughter, Fatima, into the holy man's presence. She approached with all the bashfulness becoming to a maiden and touched the feet of the Dervish, who, thereupon, placed his hands upon her head in token of his blessing.

After all the rest had withdrawn, the Dervish addressed the disciple. "Listen, my son," he said with more than his wonted solemnity. "You are poor, but your child will, nevertheless, find a bride-groom worthy of her great beauty. God's ways are mysterious. We poor mortals must place unquestioning trust in Him and carry out His injunctions:"

"It all came to me in a vision last night - what you must do that your daughter may win happiness," the Dervish went on. "Pay heed. You'll have need for high courage and boundless faith. Place your daughter in a wooden box, close it down securely and seal it. At the hour of dusk tomorrow, cast this box into the river and let it drift downstream-so will your child be carried to her destiny. When you have done, repair to the solitude of your room and spend the hours of the night in prayer. Again, put all your trust in the All-Merciful and be of good cheer!" So saying, the master departed.

This Dervish, as you may have guessed already, was far from the holy man people reckoned him to be. His heart was full of wickedness, and his subtle brain teemed with snares and stratagems. Fatima was a comely maiden, radiant as the full moon. When the Dervish looked upon her loveliness, he had been smitten with lust. "I'll take her for my own bride," he had vowed to himself. No sooner had this sinful thought seized him than his plot was hatched, for he had a nimble and resourceful wit.

Now, back in his own hut, he clapped his hands to summon the rest of his disciples. "A great task awaits us, tomorrow, my children," he said, when they were gathered round him. "Satan will go drifting down the river that runs past our village about the hour of sunset.
Yes……………imprisoned in a big, black, wooden box, floating downstream. Assemble on the wooden bridge yonder, seize the box and carry it in to my room. I shall deal with Satan, alone, behind barred doors, as is the way to deal with him. Stand outside, beat drums, blow trumpets and chant loud prayers in unison, for only thus may the power of Satan be
utterly overthrown. Doubtless, he will shriek, and storm and rave. Who knows what scurvy tricks he'll try, what fiendish commotion he will raise! But pay no heed whatsoever; only drown his unholy noise in the sound of sacred music. I charge you, be bold of spirit and breathe no word of this secret adventure abroad".

So, that is done, the wily Dervish thought.

About sunset next day, Fatima's father, credulous fool that he was, carried out his master's instructions to the letter, Almost fainting with terror, the poor girl was borne helplessly, by slow and imperceptible stages, towards the bridge.

But the Fates were kind to Fatima. In a pleasant grove by the riverside, not far from the spot where the box had been pushed off on its perilous voyage, was the Prince of a neighbouring country, reclining after a long day's hunting. He cast his eyes lazily on the waters and espied this curious object. "What can this be?" he wondered.

In a moment, the box had been fished out and broken open. Then the Prince stepped back in wonder as Fatima, still trembling with fear, but looking as bewitching as a fairy princess, rose unsteadily to her feet. It all happened in a whirl after that. The Prince promised to take Fatima to wife and she, reeling with happiness, was soon pouring her tale into his eager ears.

"Ah a villain forsooth!" the Prince muttered, for he was no fool "I'll teach the rascally Dervish the lesson he deserves!" He fetched one of his fiercest bloodhounds, thrust him into the box and fastened the lid down. Then he sent this strange cargo spinning down the current towards the bridge. When that was done, he set out with Fatima. For Fatima, indeed, the Dervish, black as his heart might be, had prophesied truly.

Down by the bridge, a little while later, stout hands were laid on the drifting wooden box. By nightfall the Dervish was alone in his room, all doors bolted and the precious treasure, as he thought, in front of him.

Picture the rest for yourself, the maddened hound leaping at the Dervish's throat and the fierce unavailing struggle as the wretch was torn from limb to limb. As for the disciples keeping watch outside, what indeed were they to do? The master's orders had been strict. The louder he shrieked in his death agony, the higher rose the beat of drums, the blare of trumpets and the wail of prayers!

The wicked Dervish's sin had come home to roost!