What Are You Really Selling?

Around a hundred years ago in the city of Damascus, all sugar arrived from India. The price of each kilogram was one majidi (an Ottoman currency). Merchants would add expenses and a margin of profit and sell a kilogram for two majidis.

One day a merchant by the name of Tarek began to sell each kilogram of sugar for only one majidi. The sugar merchants were very upset with Tarek, but they decided to ignore him.

"After all," they would comfort each other, "how long can he possibly keep up this ridiculous strategy?"

But months passed by, and Tarek continued to sell a kilogram of sugar for one majidi. The merchants met to discuss the “Tarek Affair.” “This has gone beyond any reasonable attempt to gain new customers,” they argued. “We simply have to put an end to this.”

The merchants decided to invite Tarek for dinner to discuss the matter with him. Tarek arrived and sat with his fellow sugar merchants. A very nice dinner was served and, later, over tea, the merchants proclaimed: "We have locked the door, and you shall not leave until you explain to us how you can possibly continue to sell sugar for no profit at all?"

Tarek smiled, took a sip of his tea, and said: "But I don’t sell sugar."

"This is not the time for humor," the merchants said firmly.

"But that is the truth. I really don’t sell sugar. Allow me to explain. You have been in my shop; it's just a big room. I have placed the sugar on a big cloth spread out on the floor. My customers come in, all attracted by the fact that they can buy a kilogram of sugar for only one majidi. So, it is only natural that they want to buy lots of sugar. Where are they going to place all the sugar they decide on buying? Naturally, they need bags. I stand ready to satisfy this need. I have all the bags they may ask for, but my bags are not free. I sell my bags for profit, for lots of profit. But who is going to stop and question the price of my bags when they are getting such a good deal with the price of my sugar? I don’t lose on sugar; I simply deliver it for the price for which I purchase it. But when it comes to bags," Tarek smiled again, "that's where I really make a profit. So you see, my friends, I really don’t sell sugar. My specialty is bags."

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

Adam and Musk

It is said that when Adam and Eve first arrived on earth, a deer was very eager to meet them. When the deer approached Adam and Eve, they asked her, "Why have you come to meet us?"

"I have come only to be blessed by meeting you," answered the deer.

And so Adam placed his hand over the deer's back, and instantaneously the beautiful scent of musk permeated its fur.

On its way back home, the deer met many animals. They all exclaimed, "What a beautiful scent you carry! Where did you acquire it from?"

The deer would smile and answer, "Adam touched me, and the scent hasn’t left me since."

And so before the day was over, numerous animals had gathered around Adam, hoping that they, too, would be touched by his hand and acquire the scent of musk. Although Adam touched them all, they all returned with the same scents with which they had arrived. Only the deer, who wanted nothing else but to be blessed by seeing Adam and Eve, was forever blessed with the gift of musk.

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

When You Are Shoved from the Right, Look to the Left

A man once went on Hajj (pilgrimage). As he circled the Kaaba (the black cubic structure in Mecca that pilgrims circle seven times during Hajj in worship of the one God), he was suddenly shoved from the right. Wanting to stay focused on his spiritual experience, he ignored this and continued to walk around the cubic structure, like a planet circling a star. Only a few seconds passed before he was once again shoved from the right. This time he looked over his shoulder and politely asked the man standing next to him to stop pushing him, but no sooner had he resumed his walk around the Kaaba than he was once again shoved from the right. This time the man decided that he must put an end to this impolite behavior. He turned to his right and asked the man next to him why he was continuing to shove him, but the man refused to apologize or acknowledge that he had even approached him. Loud voices began to interrupt the serene atmosphere:

"You must stop pushing me!"


"You are deluded! I haven't even touched you!"

A few minutes later, the man felt guilty for allowing himself to be distracted from his spiritual experience.

"Let everyone shove me as much as they wish" he whispered to himself. "I just want to concentrate on emulating the cosmos, circling the Kabaa as the earth circles the sun."

However, as he moved away from the scene, he suddenly noticed that the small leather purse that had been fixed on the left side of his belt was no longer there. While he was obsessed with the man shoving him from the right, another man to his left had been cutting off his purse. How artistically do they divide their roles: one shoves, the other cuts!

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

Honey and Humility

After all the animals were created, many decisions had to be made. One of these decisions involved who would be entrusted with carrying an amazing substance called 'honey'. The animals started to argue amongst each other, each trying to prove why it should be selected for this special task. The angels arranged for a competition to resolve this dispute. First, the elephant stepped forward.

"I am clearly the most qualified. Not only do I have an enormous belly where all the honey can be kept, but I also have a trunk that is perfectly designed for the task of inserting the honey into containers."

Next came the lion. He roared a few times and then said: "Honey needs to be protected and who is more qualified to protect it than the king of the jungle?"

Then the horse stepped forward:

"Honey", the horse proclaimed, "needs to be transported quickly and reliably. There is no one more qualified for this task than me".

As the animals were arguing their cases, one of the angels noticed that the bee was flying away from the scene. The angel inquired:

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to participate in the competition?"
The bee responded: "You must be kidding, how can I possibly participate in such a competition? I am completely and utterly unqualified to carry such an amazing substance. I am nothing but an insignificant insect".

At that very moment the decision was made: "Honey will be entrusted to the bee because it posses the most important quality of all. Not a large container. Not strength. Not speed. Humility."

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

The Complaining Servant

In the days when servants were bought and sold, there once was a servant who had a very kind master. The master would not eat unless his servant sat and ate with him. When he wanted to rest, he would ask his servant to sit and talk to him. If the servant had nothing to say, the master would share his latest jokes and fill the air with the joyful sound of his laughter. When he purchased a new robe or a turban, he always purchased one just like it for his servant. When he asked his servant to carry a heavy object, he helped him carry it. When he asked him to cook for many people, he would take charge of the most difficult task: finding enough logs for the fire.

Nonetheless, the servant was always complaining. "I am so tired of this master," he could be heard repeating. "Sit with me and eat, sit with me and talk … do this and do that … what makes him so sure I want to sit with him? What makes him so confident that I enjoy his company?"

One day the master overheard his servant speak like this and was very hurt, and so he decided he would return him to the servants' market. There the servant was bought by another master. This new master was very different from the previous one. He would never eat with his servants. After he finished eating, the servants ate the leftovers. When his robes and turbans became old and faded, he would give them to his servants to wear. And when he asked his servants to carryout difficult tasks, it was unthinkable for him to help.

With this master, the servant complained day and night. "Eat his leftovers!! Wear his used clothes!! Who does he think he is, the Sultan himself?"

And so the master heard of the complaints of the servant and, once again, the servant found himself in the servants' market. This time, he was purchased by a master who appeared like he never smiled in his life. Not only did this master not feed his servants, not even leftovers, but he didn’t provide shelter, either.

A night arrived when the servant stood under the pouring rain, tired, hungry and cold. Suddenly, a man approached him.

"May I be of help in any way?"

The servant looked up and could not believe his eyes. It was his first master who had treated him so kindly.

"Please take me back, Master. I promise I will never take your special treatment for granted again."

And so the master purchased him again. And whenever he wanted to rest, he would ask his servant to sit with him, drink coffee drenched with cardamom, and listen to his latest jokes.

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

Khshnaker

There once was a man named Samir who always pretended that he was well informed about everything.

"What do you know about the theory of gravity, Samir?"

And Samir would speak on and on about the theory of gravity that he knew nothing about.

"What do you know about Antarctica, Samir?"

And Samir would proceed to describe the tropical forest in Antarctica, which was, of course, located in Southeast Asia.

One day Samir's friends got tired of his boastful claims of knowledge and decided that the best way to silence him forever was to humiliate him in public. So, they invented a word that was a combination of the first letters of their names: Kh from Khalid, Sh from Sharif, N from Nabil, A from Ahmad, K from Karim, A from Ayman and R from Riyad–khshnakar!

They all went to meet Samir at the coffee shop he frequently visited. When he arrived, they gathered around him and one of them said, "Knowledgeable Samir, we have a question only you can answer. We heard someone speak of khshnakar, and we have no idea what it could possibly be."

Samir took his water pipe out of his mouth, blew smoke into the air, and with a very serious expression on his face began to speak, "Khshnakar, my brothers, is a very rare plant. Its original home is in the Sub-Saharan Desert. It has been shown to regenerate the growth of hair, improve sexual performance, and even cure the common cold, but it is funny that you would ask me about khshnakar when only last week I started planting it in my backyard."

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

Your Mouth Blew, and Your Hands Tied

There once was a town that was divided by a wide and deep river. On one side of the river sat a man with a box full of goat skins next to him. This man was an expert at blowing the goat skin and tying it in such a way that it became a perfect float that one could hold onto in swimming from one side of the river to the other. The man was known as the "skin blower," and he would charge a nominal fee for his expertise in blowing and tying.

For those who were better-off, there were small boats available to take them to the other side.

A very stingy and conceited man once wanted to cross the river. Boats, of course, were out of the question since they were far too expensive for his taste, but even the nominal fee which the skin blower charged seemed too high for him.

"Just lend me one of your goat skins, and I will take care of blowing it and tying it," he argued over and over again.

"But it has taken me years of practice to know when to stop blowing and how exactly the skin should be tied," the skin blower answered.

No matter, it was hopeless. The man was too stingy and too conceited to be convinced by the skin blower's words. Finally, the skin blower said, "All right, I will let you borrow one of my skins for free, but you are responsible for the consequences."

"Consequences? What consequences? Saving my precious, hard earned money?" the man whispered to himself as he proceeded to blow the skin and tie it.

However, no sooner had he jumped into the water than the skin began to lose air. The man did not notice at first, but by the time he reached the middle of the river, where the current was at its strongest point, the skin had lost most of its air, and the man, who did not know how to swim, began screaming, "Skin blower, skin blower, the skin you gave me is no good. Come quickly, and help me!"

When the skin blower heard the frantic screams of the man, he stood up and shouted back, "It was your mouth that blew, and your hands that tied!"

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

A Bit Farther, Please

There once was a man who had an old father. The father was very weak and frail. He needed to be cared for constantly. So, the man got tired of his father and decided he would get rid of him.

"Let’s go for a ride, Father," the man said.

And he carried his father into the carriage, pulled on the reins, and rode off toward the wilderness outside of town.

After a while, the man reached a place that seemed very deserted. It appeared like a good spot to drop off his father.

"He will die here in a manner of minutes, and I'll be relieved forever of my burden," he said to himself.

But just as he was about to stop, he heard his father say in his quiet frail voice, "Son, a bit farther, please!"

"What?" exclaimed the man.

"A bit farther, please," the father repeated.

"But what difference does it make?"

"You see, years ago my father became old and sick, and I, too, got tired of caring for him, but when I dropped him off, it was a bit farther from here."

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

Shilabib

A man once committed a crime. He was very rich, and he inquired about the best lawyer around.

When the lawyer arrived and examined the case, he said, "Look, the evidence is overwhelming. You will be found guilty in a manner of minutes. There is only one way to get you out of this, but you have to do exactly what I tell you. From now on and until I tell you otherwise, no matter what you are asked, you are to respond by saying, ‘Shilabib’.”

"Shilabib? What does shilabib mean?"

"Nothing. It's not even a proper word. Now, stop asking me questions, and just follow my instructions."

Later, when the man was asked by the prosecutor what his name was, he responded, "Shlabib."

"Why did you commit this crime?"

"Shilabib."

"Did you act alone?"

"Shilabib."

"Are you mentally unstable?"

"Shilabib."

The judge decided that the man was mentally unfit to stand trial and that he should spend some time in a mental institute.

Later, the lawyer arrived to collect his fees. Smiling, he declared, "I told you I would get you out of this. You have to admit that I had a brilliant strategy, but, as I am sure you will understand, brilliant strategies are expensive."

The man just stared at his lawyer, nodded his head, and said, "Shilabib."

"Oh, that’s funny. That's really cute. You can stop saying ‘shilabib’ now, okay?"

"Shilabib."

"Listen, my friend, the case is over. I got you completely out of this mess. Now it’s time to pay me."

"Shilabib."

"I am getting tired of this."

"Shilabib."

“I was the idiot who taught you this game, okay."

"Shilabib."

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my dear friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

The Sheep That Never Lost Hope

There once was a sheep who dreamed of walking in the very front row of her flock. But each time she tried to move towards the front, she was pushed back by her strong and mighty sisters and brothers.

"Know your place, sheep," they would whisper. "even the very last row is too much for you".

Day after day the sheep would try to move towards the front row and day after day she was pushed back with sarcasm.

A dawn arrived when the shepherd, after having directed his flock towards the usual northern pasture field, suddenly stopped and decided he would try out a pasture field to the south which he had heard about from one of his friends. With his rod, he gestured to his flock to turn towards the opposite direction and suddenly the sheep, who had never lost hope, found herself at the very front row.

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

For a Few Silver Coins

Once a man heard about a place where people worshipped a tree.

"These people are under a delusion. They have replaced the glory of the transcendent God, the secret of all that is alive, with a mere tree? I must save them from this path. I must cut down this tree."

And so the man climbed on his horse and headed towards the tree. When he got there, he picked up his ax and began to strike at it. People ran to him, yelling:

"Stop. This is our most sacred tree."

But everyone who tried to push him away from the tree failed. He was simply too strong and too determined. When everyone was about to give up, an old man approached him and said:

"Listen my friend. The truth is that you have severely surprised these people. They are all very devoted to this tree and they will be very hurt if they see it cut down today. However, if you were to wait just till tomorrow, they will be far more prepared mentally to see their special tree cut down. Meanwhile, here is a bag of silver coins. It's not a bribe of course. Give it away in charity or use it for some good purpose. Then come back tomorrow and you can cut down the tree. I promise it will still be here waiting for you."

The old man's words seemed very convincing. After all, what would a day possibly change? And as for the silver coins, it's true, he could think of many good ways to spend them.

And so he returned to his town. First, he used a few silver coins to help an old widow he knew. But later, he began to use the coins to buy meat, milk and honey.

"Its ok," he would comfort himself, "I'm simply trying to stay strong and fit so I can perform good deeds."

When the last silver coin was spent, ten days after he had taken them from the old man, he decided he would now return and cut down the tree. When he arrived, he found the old man along with others prostrating to the tree.

"Move away," he screamed. "The time has come for your tree to be cut down."

But no sooner had he said these words, when a woman approached him and pushed him to the ground. Surprised, the man stood up again and waked towards the tree. This time, a child, no older than seven, approached him and pushed him to the ground. Suddenly, everyone appeared to be stronger than him, far stronger than him. The faces that only ten days ago were full of fear were now full of contempt.

"Cut down our tree? Who do you think you are to cut down our tree?"

"We'll cut your head off if you try this again!"

But the words of the old man echoed within him the most:

"There is nothing weaker than that which can be stopped with silver!"

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

Why the Painting Is Smeared

A man stands on a terrace that overlooks a deep valley. He is absorbed by painting the golden clouds of the oncoming sunset. A while later he pauses to assess his progress. He starts walking backward so he can view his painting from a distance. He is unaware that he has reached the very edge of the terrace and that the next step he is about to take will be toward the valley below.

You are standing a few steps away from him. You realize what is going on. Thoughts race through your mind. What shall you do to save him?

If you scream, "Stop, look back," you may scare him and make him lose his balance and fall. If you attempt to take hold of him, both of you may lose yur balance and fall. There is only one way to save him: smear his painting.

When he sees your hand moving against his precious work of art, his feet will freeze, and he will move toward you with all his strength. Only then may you take hold of him and explain to him what was about to take place. Yes, you have smeared his painting, but you have also saved his life.

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005.

The Angel's Instructions

There once was a man who was traveling through the desert. The journey took longer than he expected and soon all his provisions were gone except for a small jug of water and a loaf of bread. An angel carrying water and food was sent with this command: "When he drinks the rest of his water and eats his last loaf of bread, give him the water and food."

And so the angel observed the man from a distance, waiting for him to drink his water and eat his loaf of bread. But the man was so afraid of finishing his supplies and being left with nothing that he simply couldn't get himself to do so. Whenever he was about to drink or eat, he would say to himself, "But what will happen to me if I were to finish my water or eat my last loaf of bread? I must hold on to them, they are all I have left."

And so he would continue to walk and the angel would continue to observe from a distance.

Sometime before sunset, the man collapsed on the sand. In one hand, he held that very last loaf of bread, and in the other, that small jug of water. The angel, still carrying the food and water, kept on observing until it was clear that the man had died.

"How strange are the children of Adam," the angel said as it ascended to the sky.

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005. I originally posted it on Blest Atheist but felt it would be better posted here since I have subsequently posted other stories here from the same book.

Escaping the Design

A man who lived in Baghdad once saw the angel of death in the market. It was obvious that the angel of death was staring at him.

"He must have come to take me," the man said to himself. "I must escape!"

And so the man went quickly to the governor's house who was his friend. "You must help me. The angel of death is here in Baghdad. He has come to take me."

The governor said, "How would you like me to help you my friend?"

"Send me, send me away on your fastest horse to Damascus."

And so the governor ordered that the fastest horse in Baghdad was to be given to his friend. In only three days, a record speed, the man arrived in Damascus! No sooner had he arrived, however, than he saw the angel of death near the eastern gate.

"You actually are here," the angel said.

"What could you possibly mean?"

"Well, I was very surprised to see you in a market in Baghdad because I knew that I was supposed to take your soul three days later in Damascus. How you managed to get here this fast is beyond my comprehension!"

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005. I originally posted it on Blest Atheist but felt it would be better posted here since I have subsequently posted other stories here from the same book.

What Are You Really Selling? (Or, The First Capitalist)

Around a hundred years ago in the city of Damascus, all sugar arrived from India. The price of each kilogram was one majidi (an Ottoman currency). Merchants would add expenses and a margin of profit and sell a kilogram for two majidis.

One day a merchant by the name of Tarek began to sell each kilogram of sugar for only one majidi. The sugar merchants were very upset with Tarek, but they decided to ignore him. "After all," they would comfort each other, "how long can he possibly keep up this ridiculous strategy?"

But months passed by, and Tarek continued to sell a kilogram of sugar for one majidi. The merchants met to discuss the “Tarek Affair.” “This has gone beyond any reasonable attempt to gain new customers,” they argued. “We simply have to put an end to this.”

The merchants decided to invite Tarek for dinner to discuss the matter with him.
Tarek arrived and sat with his fellow sugar merchants. A very nice dinner was served and, later, over tea, the merchants proclaimed: "We have locked the door, and you shall not leave until you explain to us how you can possibly continue to sell sugar for no profit at all?"

Tarek smiled, took a sip of his tea, and said: "But I don’t sell sugar."

"This is not the time for humor," the merchants said firmly.

"But that is the truth. I really don’t sell sugar. Allow me to explain. You have been in my shop; it's just a big room. I have placed the sugar on a big cloth spread out on the floor. My customers come in, all attracted by the fact that they can buy a kilogram of sugar for only one majidi. So, it is only natural that they want to buy lots of sugar. Where are they going to place all the sugar they decide on buying? Naturally, they need bags. I stand ready to satisfy this need. I have all the bags they may ask for, but my bags are not free. I sell my bags for profit, for lots of profit. But who is going to stop and question the price of my bags when they are getting such a good deal with the price of my sugar? I don’t lose on sugar; I simply deliver it for the price for which I purchase it. But when it comes to bags," Tarek smiled again, "that's where I really make a profit. So you see, my friends, I really don’t sell sugar. My specialty is bags."

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005. Two other stories from this book have appeared on my main blog, Blest Atheist. The given title for this story is Dr. Omar's. The title in parentheses is my tongue-in-cheek suggestion. (I thought it was time for a little change in the fare of this blog.)

When All Disappears

There once was a family that lived in a small village. The family owned a goat, a rooster, and a dog. One day the family awoke to find that the goat had died.

"How will we drink milk now?" the husband asked his wife.

The wife had a firm faith in God and so she answered, "We will drink milk when we are supposed to drink milk."

The next day, the family awoke to find that the rooster had died.

"How will we wake up early for prayer?" asked the husband.

The wife answered: "We will wake up when we are supposed to wake up."

The day after that, the family woke up to find that their dog had died.

"Who will alarm us when strangers approach our home?" asked the husband.

The wife answered, "We will be alarmed when we are supposed to be alarmed."

The husband was completely unconvinced, but he loved his wife too much to respond.

When the family awoke the next day, there was a big shock awaiting them. A gang of violent thieves had attacked the village during the night. All the men were killed and the women and children were taken prisoners. Their home was the only one that was left unharmed.

The husband sat next to his wife unable to understand why the thieves chose not to attack them. The wife held his hand and said, "The thieves didn’t choose not to attack us. They simply were not aware of our existence. You see, we didn’t have a dog to bark, a rooster to crow or a goat to bleat – all of the sounds that directed the thieves to homes in the midst of the night. As we were losing our precious animals, we were, in fact, being prepared for an event that we were not aware of. Have faith my dear husband!"

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The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005. Two other stories from this book have appeared on my main blog, Blest Atheist.