A theologian passed by a drunkard who had fallen by the wayside. Filled with pride at his own piety, he disdained even to regard him.
The young man raised his head and said: “Go, old man, and give thanks that thou art in the Divine favour—misfortune comes from pride. Laugh not when thou seest one in bonds lest thou likewise become involved. After all, is it not within the bounds of possibility that to-morrow thou mayest fall, like me, by the roadside?”
If with a mosque the heavens have befriended thee, revile not them that worship in the fire-temple.
O Mussulman! fold thy hands and render thanks that He has not bound the idolater’s thread about thy waist.
Turn to Him who guides the hand of Fate; blindness it is to look for help elsewhere.
Story of Sadi and the Idolaters
At Sumanāt[34] I saw an ivory idol. It was set with jewels like the Manāt, and nothing more beautiful could have been devised. Caravans from every country brought travellers to its side; the eloquent from every clime made supplication before its lifeless figure.
“Why,” I pondered, “does a living being worship an inanimate object?”
To a fire-worshipper, who was a fellow-lodger and friend of mine, I said with gentleness: “O Brahmin! I am astonished at the doings of this place. All are infatuated with this feeble form; they are imprisoned in the well of superstition. No power has the idol to move its hands or feet; if thou throw it down, it cannot rise from its place. Dost thou not see that its eyes are of amber?—it were folly to seek faithfulness from the stony-eyed.”