The Chosen Highway/Mírzá Asadu’lláh Káshání

The Chosen Highway by Lady Blomfield

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[Page 117]

THE SPOKEN CHRONICLES

of

Mírzá Asadu’lláh Káshání,

Sakínih Sultán Khánum,

and

Siyyid ‘Alí Yazdí. [Page 118] --BLANK-- [Page 119]

Some incidents illustrating certain aspects of the progress of the Bábí teaching during the Baghdád exile period, narrated by MÍRZÁ ASADU'LLÁH KÁSHÁNÍ, whose life had been linked with the Cause from his early youth:

I well remember the agitation amongst our family and friends when my eldest brother became a Bábí.

He had heard a mullá preach in a mosque, expounding the prophecies concerning the coming Imám, and had accepted the Truth. Now, being a Bábí, he no longer followed the mullá, to whom (according to the Muslim custom) he had been attached.

Therefore this man became a bitter enemy.

One day he obliged my brother to go to a barber, and have his head shaved; not content with having caused this indignity, the mullá broke a pitcher, from which "the infidel" had drunk, as to his mind it had thereby become unclean!

This was a well-known sign.

It being unsafe to remain, after this, in Káshán, my brother and a friend left for the holy shrine at M'asúmih.

They carried brass and copper vessels, the making of which was their trade; these they sold, using the money gained for the journey to Baghdád, which it was their secret intention to accomplish.

One night I dreamed a dream:

Flying through the air towards Baghdad, I arrived at the river separating the old and new towns. His Holiness Bahá’u’lláh dwelt in old Baghdád, in a part of the town called Karkh. In my dream I saw the thin "Dividing Line of the Day of God" above the river. I flew over that line and came to the house in which Jamál-i-Mubárak dwelt. I saw a window over the door; through this window I gazed, and saw a room [Page 120] into which five or six steps led. I went down into that room, and there I saw Jamál-i-Mubárak.

After this dream I could not rest for the great desire I had to journey to Baghdád to serve the Blessed One.

At this time one of the friends came from Baghdád to Káshán; when I asked for news of Him, this reply was given to me: "Thou askest a question. He will give the answer, though far distant."

At this I knew that I would set forth at once.

I gave it out that I was going on a pilgrimage to M’asúmih, a holy place between Káshán and Tihrán.

On foot I left the city, walking day and night. I slept, with a stone for my pillow, full of happiness, because of the purpose of my journey. When I needed money, I worked at my trade of coppersmith in the towns through which I passed. Thus Baghdad was reached, where I rested with my brother, he having already safely arrived.

For the first time, I saw with my outer, waking eyes, Jamál-i-Mubárak, as in my dream I had seen Him.

I was quite ill for a time, about a month, because of the hardships of the journey. Mírzá Músá (called Aqáyi Kalím, i.e., "Moses who talked with God" by the friends) cared for me until I recovered. My food was sent to me by the holy househoid.

Five or six friends used to take it in turns to prepare food; after a time we all joined in this plan; it saved trouble, and, moreover, economized the scanty provender we were able to obtain.

Morning and evening we came into the Blessed Presence.

Some mornings He would come to this house of the friends.

In the evenings we used to gather round Him on the river bank, where there was a small garden (Bahá’u’lláh had bought the land, and Aqáyi Kalím employed workers to cultivate and plant it).

A sort of shed was made here, covered with branches of flowering trees; when sprinkled with water, it was cool and fragrant.

Bahá’u’lláh was very, very fond of this little garden, which was about half an hour's walk from the city of Baghdad. He often went to this garden, where He would be joined by the friends, one by one, very carefully, because of the unscrupulous and bitter enemies, who were always ready to seize pretexts for fresh persecutions. [Page 121]

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In this garden we had many blessed meetings in the presence of Him we revered.

At this time He had two houses, one for the holy household, His own family, the other where the pilgrims and friends stayed.

One never-to-be-forgotten day Bahá’u’lláh came to the pilgrim house, and said to us "Áftábam! Aftábam! Dar Ámadam-I am the Sun! I am the Sun! I have arisen!"

As we heard these blessed words, it seemed as though all the happiness of the whole world had come to live in our hearts.

As we looked upon His shining face, we were in an ecstasy― beside ourselves with joy. Our hearts were flaming within us!*

So enraptured were we, so high our hearts were beating that we could hardly sleep for thinking "In the morning! In the morning we are coming again into His Presence!"

We seemed to be living in an air of spiritual enchantment, of soul-stirring joy.

I can find no words to tell you of what our delight was. Nothing on earth was of any importance, of any meaning, but that His Holy Presence was here with us.

A friend, being given a piece of bread by Bahá’u’lláh, asked "Give me spiritual food I implore." Some words were spoken to him, we knew not what. The friend became so excited and unbalanced that he committed suicide.

Bahá’u’lláh then said:

"How much better had he made other use of his enthusiasm; if he had gone to Persia to teach the Cause, rather than to uselessly take his own life!"

One day, when He was walking in the garden, we heard Him say:

"No leaf, no flower, no fruit, no bark.

"All wonder why the gardener cultivates me, this tree."

This, I heard, was a quotation from His poems.

There was in the neighbourhood of Baghdad the holy shrine of an Imám; at Kázimayn. The friends used to follow Bahá’u’lláh at a distance, as he rode on a donkey to visit this shrine.

We were alert and ready to protect our Beloved should an enemy attack Him.

This incident did not, apparently, convey to Mírzá Asadu’lláh that Bahá’u’lláh was "He Whom God shall make Manifest."-ED. [Page 122] On some occasions the Persian Consul, and others of the Shi’ah sect, were at the shrine when Bahá’u’lláh arrived; they agitated themselves vastly, and were much perplexed, not comprehending the majesty in the personality of the wonderful visitor.

I was told that this Mírzá Asadu’lláh Káshání was a self-constituted guard, and hid a formidable weapon under his ‘abá, as he followed the Beloved Master about in those days of danger, although Bahá’u’lláh had made a law that nobody was to carry arms!

Whilst Bahá’u’lláh was encamped in the Riḍván, there was much wind for some days.

His tent swayed; we thought it might be blown down, therefore we took it in turns to sit and hold the tent ropes so that it might be steady; night and day we held the ropes, so glad, in this way, to be near our Glorious Lord.

All the city came, friends and others, to see Him leave for the Riḍván. There was a great crowd. Weeping women pressed forward and laid their babes and young children at His feet.

He tenderly raised those infants, one by one, blessing them, gently and lovingly replacing them in their sorrowing mothers’ arms, and charging them to bring up those dear flowers of humanity to serve God in steadfast faith and truth.

What a soul-stirring day!

Men threw themselves in His path; if only His blessed feet might touch them as He passed.

Our Beloved One got into a boat to cross the river, the people pressing round Him waiting, not to lose one of the remaining chances of being in His Presence.

At length the boat put off, and we watched it with sorrowing hearts. [Page 123]

THE SPOKEN CHRONICLES

Then we were aware of an extraordinary exhilaration, some marvellous exaltation in the atmosphere of that day.

The reason for this phenomenon we were in due time to learn.

When we had seen that the boat was on the other side of the river, we started off to walk to the Riḍván, where we set up His tent, and five or six others for the friends. I helped Mírzá Muḥammad Baqir to cook, and to make tea for the friends. The family of Bahá’u’lláh joined Him in the Riḍván on the ninth day; and on the twelfth day, in the afternoon, they went from us, under the escort of Turkish soldiers to an unknown destination.

Although Bahá’u’lláh had commanded the friends not to follow them, I was so loath to let Him go out of my sight, that I ran after them for three hours.

He saw me, and getting down from His horse, waited for me, telling me with His beautiful voice, full of love and kindness, to go back to Baghdad, and, with the friends, to set about our work, not slothfully, but with energy:

"Be not overcome with sorrow-I am leaving friends I love in Baghdad. I will surely send to them tidings of our welfare. Be steadfast in your service to God, who doeth whatsoever He willeth. Live in such peace as will be permitted to you."

We watched them disappear into the darkness with sinking hearts, for their enemies were powerful and cruel! And we knew not where they were being.taken.

An unknown destination!

Weeping bitterly, we turned our faces towards Baghdad, determining to live according to His command.

We had not been, at that time, informed of the great event of the "Declaration," that our revered and beloved Bahá’u’lláh was He Who should come-"He Whom God shall make Manifest" but we again felt that unspeakable joy, which surged within us, overcoming our bitter sorrow, with a great and mysterious radiancy.

Before the departure, the Governor of Baghdad had come to offer his services. "Is there not anything I can do?"

Bahá’u’lláh replied:

"One thing I ask of thee-protect the friends after I am gone. This only I wish from thee." [Page 124] The Governor respected the wish of Bahá’u’lláh, and protected the friends at Baghdád, particularly on one occasion which led to our migrating to Mosul:

It happened in this way:

A year after the departure of the Holy One, the days of the "Feast of the Riḍván," which we were keeping with all the joy of our souls, coincided with the Muharram, the days of mourning for the martyrdom of Husayn and his friends.

The Shi’ites, being angry that we were not joining the mourning, attacked us. One Bahá’í friend was killed, and several wounded, amongst whom was Badí’, whose marvellous martyrdom was to take place later on.

The Válí (Governor of Baghdád), hearing of the tumult, gathered us into the Governorate for protection from the fury of the mob. He said to us:

"There are many places in the Turkish Empire; if you would be in safety, it is well to choose where to go."

So we knew that we must leave Baghdad.

"Go in two groups-one the week after the starting of the other-I will send a soldier to protect each of you whilst you sell some of your goods; pack up others and make preparations for the journey."

Some of the friends, and I with them, chose to go to Mosul, situated between Baghdád and Aleppo.

A number of soldiers were sent with us for our protection, and indeed they were needed, for, in all the towns and villages through which we went, the people stoned us, spat upon us, yelling execrations, crying "Accursed Bábís! Accursed Bábís!"

At length our journey ending, we were promptly locked into an inn-none allowed to go out, none to enter. This was for our protection, so furious were the people!

Thus we remained until the second party arrived.

Remembering the request of Bahá’u’lláh, the Governor of Baghdad had sent word to the Válí of Mosul, requesting him to protect and provide shelter for the Bábís. He accordingly had several houses placed at our service, which, though not comfortable, still gave us shelter. [Page 125]

THE SPOKEN CHRONICLES

There were about an hundred of us in all, men, women, and children.

As soon as possible we set about our various trades; I to that of coppersmith, and, on the whole, the people were not very unfriendly.

Before we left Baghdád a Tablet arrived, brought by one of the friends, from Adrianople, telling us of the welfare of Bahá’u’lláh, of the declaration in the Riḍván, and of the more public proclamation at Adrianople; so that we started on our toilsome journey with our hearts lightened of the terrible anxiety in which we lived, not knowing the fate of the Holy Family.

Now we were upheld by a preoccupation of the spirit, so that outside privations, stonings, cursings, scorn, and all other ill-usages, seemed to us of small importance as we remembered the joy of that day at the Riḍván, and now knew the sublime reason of that sacred atmosphere.

As we chanted our prayers of praise unto God that the Holy One was safe, that the Great Light which should come into the world had not been "blown out by contrary winds," we were full of happiness, for ourselves and for all humanity.

Time went on at Mosul; we were always hoping for further news.

One day a Tablet arrived by post, which, under the prevailing conditions, seemed marvellous, indeed miraculous.

This Tablet brought the tidings that our revered Beloved One, with His Family, were at ‘Akká.

As soon as we knew that the Beloved Ones were at ‘Akká, I started off with a Persian Bahá’í, who, having escaped from Dahají, had joined the band of exiles at Mosul. We determined to make our way to ‘Akká. We walked six or seven hours a day, and coming to Aleppo we rested; thence we walked to Damascus.

Oh, how happy we were as we walked, each step bringing us [Page 126] nearer to the presence of Jamál-i-Mubárak and Sarkár-i-Áqá. Sometimes we sheltered for a night in the tent of a Bedouin, who welcomed us with unfailing kind hospitality; again we slept under the stars, with stones for our pillows, always with songs of joy in our hearts, because of our destination.

That preoccupation of the Spirit, as in our journey from Baghdád to Mosul, upheld us, and made all hardships so unimportant that we forgot them.

At length we came to Damascus, where, finding a friend from my native village, also a coppersmith, I tarried with him for ten days.

Then we started off again over the beautiful snowy Lebanon mountains, where the hospitable Bedouins were as ever our friends, and so we came to Beirut, where we rested for a week.

And now the last part of our pilgrimage from Beirut to ‘Akká. I disguised myself as a dervish. Very seldom did I think it wise to ask to be directed, therefore we often wandered out of our way.

Our exaltation grew. Oh, the loveliness of the land through which we walked, the fragrance of the orange groves, the beauty of the many coloured flowers which carpeted the plains!

We stayed one night in the town of Sidon, surrounded with its luxuriant fruit trees, the scent of which is so delicious; then a night at Tyre. As we walked the “Ladder of Tyre” we saw ‘Akká in the distance, shining in the sun, and there, in that place, were our Beloved Ones.

Great was the caution needed. We arrived separately.

My disguise allowed me to enter the city unquestioned. I wandered about in perplexity, for I did not dare to ask for information as to the abode of the Holy Ones. Fatigue was beginning to overwhelm me.

At length I went to the mosque, where I found a Shaykh who lived near by. I discovered that he was a Bahá’í; “Alláh’u’-Abhá.” When he knew of my journey and of my aim, he said: “Stay here with me, the Master will come when it is evening time.”

I waited, breathless with anticipation.

Then from the mosque came our beloved Master!

He was young then and very beautiful. [Page 127]

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"Aḥvál-i-Shumá? Marḥabá! Marḥabá! Khaylí Khush ámadíd." ("How are you? Welcome! Welcome! Your coming gives me most great pleasure and delight.")

His loving-kindness restored my soul. I was ready to sacrifice my life to once hear His "Marḥabá!"

"How tired you must be after that long, long, toilsome journey. I will send one of the friends to you in the morning."

So I rested in ecstatic peace, having achieved the desire of my heart.

In the morning Áqá Faraj came and took me to the Khán (inn) where four or five friends were staying. This was, of course, very secretly and cautiously arranged because of the threatened grave danger, at this time never absent from any suspected of being Bahá’ís. I rested quietly at the Khán, recovering from the physical fatigues of the journey.

After fifteen days, I was commanded to fetch my mother and my younger brother from Aleppo, where they were awaiting directions, having journeyed from Mosul, sometimes by steamer, and sometimes riding on mules.

How glad I was that my dear ones were to come into the presence of Jamál-i-Mubárak and the Master, Sarkár-i-Áqá! I joyfully departed on my errand, walking to Haifa, thence by boat to Alexandretta, thence to Aleppo. Returning with my family the same way, we arrived at Haifa. There we heard that my mother would be received into the holy household, to her extreme delight. My brother and I, however, were to remain at Haifa, not being suffered to go inside the town of ‘Akká.

We therefore remained at Haifa, working at our trade of coppersmith. We opened a little shop. I went round to the houses, selling things that we had made.

My brother and I prospered at our work.

We used frequently to walk over by way of the sea, wading through the brook Kishon to ‘Akká.

We would stand in a certain place, without the wall of the prison, and watch a particular window; sometimes we had the joy of seeing the hand of Bahá’u’lláh waving a greeting to us. We would then walk back to Haifa, delighted to have had our reward. [Page 128] How we prayed that the Blessed One might have His freedom. It was heartbreaking to think of Him being imprisoned in the pestilential atmosphere of that most unhealthy town.

After some time, when rules were less strict, the Master asked me to come and live in ‘Akká.

In these days Jamál-i-Mubárak was at liberty to walk freely about the town, and to live in His own hired house. Our happiness was great when He would come to the Khán to speak to the friends, or when we were invited to the house of His Holiness, where He would receive us with such divine loving-kindness, and wonderful words of gladness and joy, that our hearts and souls were wrapt in an indescribable atmosphere of purity and peace.

No words could possibly convey to you the majesty and glory of His Presence. It is needless to attempt to do so; if only my spirit could speak. But you have known Sarkár-i-Aqá, you can understand something of what those days were to us.

The sincerity and simplicity of this dear old man seemed to make themselves felt in other ways than by the mere words. It might well be that his spirit was speaking; but it was a never-to-be-forgotten experience—one saw the scenes and breathed the atmosphere of the spirit which he described.