Sanam sat on a rooftop in a bed
draped with a white mosquito net, not wanting to go to sleep.
"Tell me just one more
story," she begged her grandmother. "Then I'll
go to sleep. I promise."
"Get under your covers,
then," her grandmother replied.
Sanam got under the covers while
her grandmother sat on the edge of the bed and closed the mosquito net tightly
behind her.
"When I was a young girl
like you," her grandmother recounted, "I loved being with my grandmother,
Naneh-joon, just as much as you love being with me.
"Naneh-joon was a very devout Muslim. She got up to
pray before the sun rose and went to bed after
her midnight prayer. Even in her old age and poor health, she went to the
mosque every day. She gave money to the poor
and was kind to all.
"One hot day in August, Naneh-joon gave me permission to accompany her on her daily journey to the mosque.
"'On the occasion of
your turning nine,' she said, 'you may come with me to the mosque. But you must cover yourself
well and be silent as a mouse in God's
house.'
"I held my chador
tightly in place under my chin with one hand,
and with the other I held Naneh-joon's. We went through the alleys of southern Tihrán. I was going to the mosque!
"As we drew near to the mosque, we heard loud noises echoing between the clay houses.
"'Bábí! Bábí!' The sound of people shouting reached our ears. 'Enemy
of Islám!'
"Naneh-joon gripped my
hand. 'Those Bábís!' she hissed. 'The mulla says
they are bad people. They do things I shudder to
tell you.'
"I wanted to free my hand
from Naneh-joon's tight grasp. 'Please, Naneh-joon,' I pleaded. 'Let's go home.' I wanted my Naneh-joon back, not this stranger with an
angry look
in her eyes. "
“'The mullá says that hurting
any Bábí helps the Prophet Muhammad,' Naneh-joon said.
"Naneh-joon pulled me
toward the noise, walking faster than I had ever seen her. She pushed and shoved
until we were at the front of the crowd that
was shouting and throwing stones.
"Then and there was the
first and last time I saw Him. He was barefooted and bareheaded, but I felt I was standing in the
presence of the King of Kings. I stood mesmerized, shutting out the noise of the people and
seeing nothing but the glory surrounding Him.
"Naneh-joon let go of my
hand, and I jolted
out of my
trance. I saw her picking up a stone.
"'No!' I shouted. But she did
not listen to me. She was about to step forward when an old woman ran
ahead of her into the street.
"The old woman's frame shook with
rage as she stepped forward and raised her hand to throw her stone at Him.
"'By the Holy Imam, I beg
you,' the old woman pleaded with the guards surrounding Him. 'Give me a chance to fling my stone in His face!'
"The King of Kings turned to His guards and said, 'Suffer not this woman
to be disappointed. Deny her not what she regards as a
meritorious act in the sight of God.'
"Tears welled up in my eyes at the words that had passed through His lips.
I looked up and saw, through my tears, my
old Naneh-joon standing by my side. She had dropped her stone to the ground. She took hold of my hand, and we walked back to her house in silence."
"Then what happened?" asked Sanam. "I'm not going to
tell you the story of how Naneh-joon and I became Baha'is, Sanam!" her grandmother said. "It is your bedtime!"
"Okay, okay!" replied Sanam.
Sanam made herself snug under the blankets. She
prayed in her heart for Baha'u'llah to
forgive the old woman for what she had done. Then she went to
sleep.
(by Suzan Nadimi; Core Curriculum for Spiritual Education –
Stories)
