Al-Fozail ibn Iyaz

by Farid al-Din Attar

Abu ‘Ali al-Fozail ibn ‘Iyaz al-Talaqani was born

in Khorasan, and in the beginning of his career he

is said to have been a highwayman. After conversion he went to Kufa and later to Mecca, where

he resided for many years and died in 187 (803).

He achieved considerable repute as an authority

on Traditions, and his boldness in preaching

before Harun al-Rashid is widely reported.

Fozail the highwayman and how he repented

At the beginning of his career, Fozail-e Iyaz pitched his

tent in the heart of the desert between Merv and

Bavard. He wore sackcloth and a woollen cap, and

hung a rosary around his neck. He had many companions who were all of them thieves and highwaymen.

Night and day they robbed and pillaged, and always

brought the proceeds to Fozail since he was the senior’

of them. He would divide the loot among the bandits,

keeping for himself what he fancied. He kept an inventory of everything, and never absented himself from the

meetings of the gang. Any apprentice who failed to

attend a meeting he expelled from the gang.

One day a great caravan was passing that way, and

Fozail’s confederates were on the alert for it. A certain

man was’ travelling in the convoy who had heard

rumour of the brigands. Sighting them, he took counsel with himself how he might conceal his bag of gold.

“I will hide this bag,” he said to himself. “Then if

they waylay the caravan, I will have this capital to fall

back on.”

Going aside from the road, he saw Fozail’s tent and

Fozail himself close by it, an ascetic by his looks and

the clothes he wore. So he entrusted the bag of gold to

him.

“Go and put it in the corner of the tent,” Fozail told

him.

The man did as he was bidden, and returned to the

caravan halt, to find that it had been pillaged. All the

luggage had been carried out, and the travellers bound

hand and foot. The man released them, and collecting

the little that remained they took their departure. The

man returned to Fozail to recover his bag of gold. He

saw him squatting with the robbers, as they divided up

the spoil.

“Ah, I gave my bag of gold to a thief!” the man

exclaimed.

Seeing him afar off, Fozail hailed the man, who came

to him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Take it from where you deposited it,” Fozail bade

him. “Then go.”

The man ran into the tent, picked up his bag, and

departed.

“Why,” cried Fozail’s companions, “in the whole

caravan we did not find so much as one dirham in cash,

and you give back ten thousand dirhams!”

“The man had a good opinion of me, and I have

always had a good opinion of God, that He will

grant me repentance,” Fozail replied. “I justified his

good opinion, so that God may justify my good opinion.”

One day later they waylaid another caravan and carried off the baggage. As they sat eating, a traveller from

the caravan approached them.

“Who is your chief?” he asked.

“He is not with us,” the brigands replied. “He is the

other side of the tree by the river bank, praying.”

“But it is not the hour of prayer,” the man

exclaimed.

“He is performing a work of supererogation,” one of

the thieves explained.

“And he is not eating with you,” the man went on.

“He is fasting,” the thief replied.

“But it is not Ramazan.”

“Supererogation again,” the thief retorted.

Greatly astonished, the traveller drew near Fozail

who was praying with great humility. He waited until

he had finished, then he remarked.

“Opposites do not mingle, they say. How can one

fast and rob, pray and at the same time murder

Muslims?”

“Do you know the Koran?” Fozail asked the man.

“I know it,” the man replied.

“Well then, does not Almighty God say And others

have confessed their sins; they have mixed a righteous

deed with another evil?”

The man was speechless with astonishment.

It is said that by nature he was chivalrous and highminded, so that if a woman was travelling in a caravan

he never took her goods; in the same way, he would not

pillage the property of anyone with slender capital. He

always left each victim with a due proportion of his

belongings. All his inclination was towards right doing.

At the beginning of his exploits Fozail was passionately in love with a certain woman, and he always

brought her the proceeds of his brigandage. In season

and out of season he climbed walls in the infatuation of

his passion for the woman, weeping all the while.

One night a caravan was passing, and in the midst of

the caravan a man was chanting the Koran. The following verse reached Fozail’s ears: Is it not time that

the hearts of those who believe should be humbled to

the remembrance of God? It was as though an arrow

pierced his soul, as though that verse had come out to

challenge Fozail and say, “O Fozail, how long will you

waylay travellers? The time has come when We shall

waylay you!”

Fozail fell from the wall, crying, “It is high time

indeed, and past high time!”

Bewildered and shamefaced, he fled headlong to a

ruin. There a party of travellers was encamped. They

said, “Let us go!” One of them interjected, “We cannot

go. Fozail is on the road.”

“Good tidings!” Fozail cried. “He has repented.”

With that he set out and all day went on his way

weeping, satisfying his adversaries. Finally there

remained only a Jew in Bavard. He sought quittance of

him, but the Jew would not be reconciled.

“Today we can make light of these Mohammadans,”

he chuckled to his fellows.

“If you want me to grant you quittance,” he told

Fozail, “clear this heap.”

He pointed to a mound of sand, to remove which

would tax all the strength of a man except perhaps

over a long period. The hapless Fozail shovelled away

the sand little by little, but how should the task ever be

completed? Then one morning, when Fozail was utterly exhausted, a wind sprang up and blew the heap

clean away. When the Jew saw what had happened he

was amazed.

“I have sworn,” he told Fozail, “that until you give

me money I will not grant you quittance. Now put

your hand under this rug and take up a fistful of gold

and give it to me. My oath will then be fulfilled, and I

will give you quittance.”

Fozail entered the Jew’s house. Now the Jew had put

some earth under the rug. Fozail thrust his hand under,

and brought forth a fistful of dinars which he gave to

the Jew.

“Offer me Islam!” cried the latter.

Fozail offered him Islam, and the Jew became a

Muslim.

“Do you know why I have become a Muslim?” he

then said. “It is because until today I was not certain

which was the true religion. Today it has become clear

to me that Islam is the true 3 religion; for I have read

in the Torah that if any man repents sincerely and then

places his hand on earth, the earth turns to gold. I had

put earth under the rug to prove you. When you laid

your hand on the earth and it turned to gold, I knew

for sure that your repentance was a reality and that

your religion is true.”

“For God’s sake,” Fozail begged a man, “bind me

hand and foot and bring me before the Sultan, that he

may exercise judgment against me for the many crimes

I have committed.”

The man did as he requested. When the Sultan

beheld Fozail, he observed in him the marks of righteous folk.

“I cannot do this,” he said. And he ordered him to

be returned to his apartment with honour. When he

reached the door of the apartment he uttered a loud

cry.

“Hark at him shouting!” people remarked.

“Perchance he is being beaten.”

“Indeed, I have been sorely beaten,” Fozail replied.

“In what part?” they asked.

“In my soul,” he answered.

Then he went in to his wife.

“Wife,” he announced, ‘I would visit God’s House.

If you wish, I will set you free.”

“I will never go apart from you,” his wife replied.

“Wherever you may be, I will be with you.”

So they set out and in due time came to Mecca,

Almighty God making the road easy for them. There he

took up residence near the Kaaba, and met some of the

Saints. He companioned Imam Abu Hanifa for a while,

and many stories are told of his extreme discipline. In

Mecca the gates of oratory were opened to him, and

the Meccans thronged to hear him preach. Soon all the

world was talking about him, so that his family and

kinsmen set forth from Bavard and came to look upon

him. They knocked at his door, but he would not open

it. They for their part would not depart, so Fozail

mounted the roof of his house.

“What idlers you are!” he cried to them. “God give

you employment!”

He spoke many such words, till they all wept and

were beside themselves. Finally, despairing of enjoying

his society, they went away. He still remained on the

roof and did not open the door.

Fozail and Haran al-Rashid

One night Harun al-Rashid summoned Fazl the

Barmecide, who was one of his favourite courtiers.

“Take me to a man this night who will reveal me to

myself,” he bade him. “My heart is grown weary of

pomp and pride.”

Fazl brought Harun to the door of the house of

Sofyan-e Oyaina. They knocked at the door.

“Who is it?” Sofyan asked.

“The Commander of the Faithful,” Fazl replied.

“Why did he trouble himself so?” Sofyan said. “I

ought to have been informed, then I could have come

myself to him.”

“This is not the man I am seeking,” Harun commented “He fawns upon me like the rest.”

Hearing of what had happened, Sofyan said,

“Fozail-e Iyaz is such a man as you are seeking. You

must go to him.” And he recited this verse: Or do those

who commit evil deeds think that We shall make them

as those who believe and do righteous deeds?

“If I am seeking good counsel, this is sufficient,”

remarked Harun.

They knocked at Fozail’s door.

“Who is it?” Fozail asked.

“The Commander of the Faithful,” Fazl replied.

“What business has he with me, and what have I to

do with him?” Fozail demanded.

“Is it not a duty to obey those in authority?” countered Fazl.

“Do not disturb me,” cried Fozail.

“Shall I enter with an authority or a command?”

said Fazl.

“There is no such thing as authority,” replied Fozail.

“If you enter by force, you know what you are doing.”

Harun entered. As he approached Fozail, the latter

blew out the lamp so as not to see his face. Harun

stretched out his hand, and Fozail’s hand met it.

“How smooth and soft this palm is, if only it could

escape from Hell-fire!” Fozail remarked.

So saying, he arose and stood in prayer. Harun was

much affected and weeping overcame him.

“Say something to me,” he begged. Fozail saluted

him and then spoke.

“Your ancestor, the Prophet’s uncle, once demanded

of the Prophet, ‘Make me commander over some people.’ The Prophet replied, ‘Uncle, for one moment I

have made you commander over yourself.’ By this he

meant, ‘For you to obey God for one moment is better

than a thousand years of people obeying you.’ The

Prophet added, ‘Command shall be a cause of regretting on the Day of Resurrection.’ “

“Say more,” Harun pleaded.

“When Omar ibn Abd al-Aziz was appointed

caliph,” Fozail related, “he summoned Salem ibn Abd

Allah, Raja’ ibn Hayat, and Mohammad ibn Ka’b. ‘I

have been afflicted with this trial,’ he told them. ‘What

am I to do? For I know this high office to be a trial,

even though men count it for a blessing.’ One of the

three said, ‘If you wish tomorrow to escape from God’s

punishment, look upon aged Muslims as though each

were your father, and regard youthful Muslims as your

brothers, Muslim children as your own sons, treating

them in all respects as one does one’s father, brother,

and son.’ “

“Say more,” Harun repeated.

“The lands of Islam are as your own house, and their

inhabitants your family,” Fozail said. “Visit your father,

honour your brother, and be good to your son. I fear,”

he added, “that your handsome face will be sorely tried

by the fire of Hell. Fear God, and obey His command.

And be watchful and prudent; for on the Resurrection

Day God will question you concerning every single

Muslim, and He will exact justice from you in respect

of every one. If one night an old woman has gone to

sleep in a house without provisions, she will pluck your

skirt on that Day and will give evidence against you.”

Harun wept bitterly, so that his consciousness was

like to fail.

“Enough! You have slain the Commander of the

Faithful,” chided Fazl the vizier.

“Be silent, Haman,” cried Fozail. “It is you and your

creatures who are destroying him, and then you tell me

that I have killed him. Is this murder?”

At these words Harun wept even more copiously.

“He calls you Haman,” he said, turning to Fazl,

“because he equates me with Pharaoh.” Then, addressing Fozail, he asked,

“Have you a debt outstanding?”

“Yes,” replied Fozail. “A debt of obedience to God.

If He takes me to task over this, then woe is me!”

“I am speaking of debts owed to men, Fozail,” said

Harun.

“Thanks be to God,” cried Fozail, “who has blessed

me abundantly, so that I have no complaint to make to

His servants.”

Then Harun placed a purse of a thousand dinars

before him.

“This is lawful coin, of my mother’s inheritance,” he

said.

“Commander of the Faithful,” said Fozail, “the

counsels I have spoken to you have yielded no profit.

Even now you have recommenced wrongdoing and

resumed injustice.”

“What wrongdoing?” demanded Harun.

“I call you to salvation, and you cast me into temptation. This is wrongdoing indeed,” said Fozail. “I tell

you, give back what you possess to its proper owner.

You for your part give it to another to whom it should

not be given. It is useless for me to speak.”

So saying, he rose up from the caliph’s presence and

flung the gold out of the door.

“Ah, what a man he is!” exclaimed Harun, leaving

Fozail’s house. “Fozail is in truth a king of men. His

arrogance is extreme, and the world is very contemptible in his eyes.”

Anecdotes of Fozail

One day Fozail was holding in his lap a four-year-old

child, and by chance placed his mouth on its cheek as

is the wont of fathers.

“Father, do you love me?” asked the child.

“I do,” replied Fozail.

“Do you love God?”

“I do.”

“How many hearts do you have?” the child asked.

“One,” answered Fozail.

“Can you love two with one heart?” demanded the

child.

Fozail at once realized that it was not the child

speaking, but that in reality it was a Divine instruction.

Jealous for God, he began to beat his head and repented. Severing his heart from the child, he gave it to God.

One day Fozail was standing at Arafat. All the pilgrims there were weeping and wailing, humbling themselves and making lowly petition.

“Glory be to God!” cried Fozail. “If so many men

were to go to a man at one time and ask him for a silver penny, what do you say? Would that man disappoint so many?”

“No,” came the answer.

“Well,” said Fozail, “surely it is easier for Almighty

God to forgive them all, than for that man to give a silver penny. For He is the most bountiful of the bountiful, so there is good hope that He will pardon all.”

Once Fozail’s son suffered an obstruction of urine.

Fozail came and lifted up his hands.

“O Lord,” he prayed, “by my love for Thee deliver

him out of this sickness.”

He had not yet risen from his knees when the boy

was healed.

Fozail would often say in prayer: “Lord God, have

mercy! For Thou knowest my repentance; and do not

punish me, for Thou hast all power over me.” Then he

would add, “O God, Thou keepest me hungry, and

Thou keepest my children hungry. Thou keepest me

naked, and Thou keepest my children naked. Thou

givest not to me a lantern by night. All these things

Thou doest to Thy friends. By what spiritual station

has Fozail earned this felicity from Thee?”

For thirty years no man saw Fozail smile, except on

the day when his son died. Then he smiled.

“Master, what time is this for smiling?” he was

asked.

“I realized that God was pleased that my son should

die,” he answered. “I smiled to accord with God’s good

pleasure.”

Fozail had two daughters. When his end

approached, he laid a last charge upon his wife.

“When I die, take these girls and go to Mount Bu

Qobais. There lift your face to heaven and say, ‘Lord

God, Fozail laid a charge upon me saying, “Whilst I

was alive, I protected these helpless ones as best I

could. When Thou madest me a prisoner in the fastness

of the grave, I gave them back to Thee.'”

When Fozail was buried, his wife did as he had bidden her. She went out to the mountaintop and conveyed her daughters there. Then she prayed with much

weeping and lamentation. At that very moment the

Prince of Yemen passed by there with his two sons.

Seeing them weeping and making moan, he enquired,

“Whence are you come?”

Fozail’s wife explained the situation.

“I give these girls to these my sons,” the prince

announced. “I give each of them as a dowry ten thousand dinars. Are you content with this?”

“I am,” their mother replied.

At once the prince furnished litters and carpets and

brocades, and conveyed them to Yemen.

al-fozail-e iyaz 6

Source : Sufism.ir