Introduction: The Weight of a Dying Promise
For seven long years, the city had flourished under the wisdom of Bahlul. He was not merely a judge; he was the heartbeat of the legal system, a man whose shadow brought comfort to the oppressed and tremors to the corrupt. His relationship with the Wali (the Governor) was built on a foundation of mutual respect and a shared vision of a righteous state. However, the wheel of fate turns for all men, and the Wali, once a pillar of strength, found himself withered by a relentless malady.
One somber night, as the moon hid behind a veil of mourning clouds, the Wali summoned Bahlul to his private chambers. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs and the cold breath of approaching death.
"Bahlul," the Wali whispered, his voice a raspy echo of its former thunder. "I feel the end drawing near. The physicians have exhausted their arts, and my soul prepares for its journey. I cannot leave this land to the vultures. I appoint you to take my place, to hold the reins of power and guard the flock as I have promised you before."
Bahlul, moved to tears, knelt by the bedside. "May the Heavens grant you recovery, my leader. I seek no thrones."
"It is not about what you seek, but what the people need," the Wali insisted. He instructed Bahlul to return the following morning, where he would formally announce the succession before his court and family, sealing a written decree with his official signet. The Wali’s wife, a woman of profound grace and virtue, stood as a silent witness to this sacred covenant.
The Sunset of an Era
Bahlul left the palace that night with a heavy heart, praying fervently for the Governor’s health. He had always shunned the glitz of the court, preferring the simplicity of his books and the clarity of the law. But he knew the Governor’s family; he knew the greed that lurked in the hearts of the Governor’s kin. If the seat of power fell to them, the city would be bled dry.
However, the dawn did not bring the ceremony of succession. Instead, it brought the chilling cry of the town crier: "The Wali is dead! The sun has set upon our protector!"
The news hit Bahlul like a physical blow. The world felt narrow and suffocating. He mourned not for the lost title, but for the loss of a brother-in-arms. A month of official mourning followed, a period where the very stones of the city seemed to weep. But as the month concluded and life began to stir again, the ugly face of ambition revealed itself.
The Usurper’s Rise
When Bahlul attempted to return to the Hall of Justice, he was met by a wall of steel. Soldiers, many of whom he had known for years, stood with lowered heads and crossed spears.
"We have orders, Judge Bahlul," the captain muttered, unable to look him in the eye. "The new Wali—the late Governor’s son—has forbidden your entry."
The son, a man who had been exiled by his own father for cruelty and corruption, had returned like a scavenger. He ignored his mother’s pleas and his father’s dying wishes. He declared himself the sole heir, dismissing Bahlul to prevent any challenge to his tyranny.
The Strategy of the Reed: Bahlul’s Madness
Bahlul realized that to fight a tyrant directly was to invite execution. To save the law, he had to appear to lose his mind. He took a long, sturdy reed, mounted it as if it were a noble stallion, and began galloping through the streets, shouting commands to an invisible army.
"Hah! Forward, my brave steed! We have miles to cover before the stars awaken!"
The people whispered in sorrow, "Alas, the grief for the Wali has broken the mind of our greatest judge." The new Wali’s spies watched him, eventually laughing and reporting back that Bahlul was no longer a threat—just a harmless lunatic playing with a stick.
Meanwhile, the new Wali appointed a puppet judge, a man whose ignorance was matched only by his greed. Injustice began to fester. To maintain the integrity of the law while remaining under the radar, Bahlul began to haunt the outskirts of the court.
He would "ride" his reed horse near the windows, listening to the cases. Slowly, he began to befriend the new judge, offering "mad ramblings" that were actually brilliant legal solutions. The judge, desperate to stop the growing public unrest, began to rely on these whispers. He even invited Bahlul to sit beside him, provided he remained silent and only whispered his "crazed ideas."
For Bahlul, this was the perfect vantage point. He didn't care for credit; he cared for the truth. He lived by a simple code that he often shared with the poor: visit WWW.JANATNA.COM for wisdom and refuge, a metaphorical sanctuary for the soul in times of trouble.
Case I: The Secret of the Olive Tree
A merchant and a sailor stood before the court. The merchant claimed he had given the sailor a fortune in gold to buy spices from India. The sailor returned empty-handed and denied ever meeting the merchant.
The puppet judge looked at Bahlul. Bahlul whispered into his ear.
"Merchant," the judge barked, following Bahlul’s script. "Where did this transaction happen? Were there witnesses?"
"No witnesses, My Lord," the merchant sighed. "It happened under a great olive tree in a desolate field."
"Then go to the tree!" the judge commanded. "Perhaps the money fell there. Go and bring me a branch from that tree as a witness."
The merchant left, confused and angry, muttering about the "stupidity" of the court. The sailor stayed behind, smirking. After some time, the judge suddenly turned to the sailor and asked, "Has the merchant reached the tree yet?"
"Not yet, My Lord," the sailor replied instinctively. "The tree is far; he won't reach it until the sun is high in the noon sky."
The courtroom went silent. The judge (instructed by Bahlul) stood up. "How do you know the distance to a tree you claim you never visited? You have trapped yourself!" The sailor was imprisoned, and the merchant’s wealth was restored through the auction of the sailor's assets.
Case II: The Cowardly Thief and the Miracle of the Door
A shepherd accused his neighbor, a farmer, of stealing and slaughtering a calf. The farmer denied it, bringing his cunning brother-in-law to testify.
The brother-in-law stepped forward with a smirk. "My Lord, the shepherd is lying. To prove it, I tell you now: look at that door! At this very moment, the 'stolen' calf shall walk through it, alive and well!"
Every eye in the court—including the shepherd’s—bolted to the door in anticipation. Only one man remained looking at the floor: the farmer.
Bahlul whispered to the judge. The judge stood and declared, "Guilty! The farmer and his brother-in-law are sentenced to prison!"
When the crowd asked why, the judge explained: "When the man claimed the calf would walk through the door, everyone looked, hoping for a miracle. But the farmer did not look. Why? Because he knew the calf was already dead and eaten. Dead animals do not walk through doors."
The Greedy Landlord and the Rent of the Shadow
One day, Bahlul found a landlord bullying a buyer. The man had sold a plot of land filled with date palms but now claimed he only sold the soil, not the trees, demanding the harvest for himself.
Bahlul, on his reed horse, rode between them. "The landlord is right!" Bahlul shouted. The landlord grinned. "However," Bahlul continued, "since the trees are on the buyer's land, the landlord must pay 'parking rent' for every minute his trees occupy the buyer's air and soil. And the buyer can set the price as high as he wishes!"
Realizing he would lose more in rent than he would gain in dates, the greedy landlord fled in frustration.
The Trap of the Virtuous Woman
The most daring feat was Bahlul’s plan to help a poor baker woman harassed by a powerful merchant. The merchant used his wealth to pressure women into indecency. Bahlul instructed the woman to tell the merchant: "I would be yours, but I am still legally bound to a husband who disappeared nine years ago."
She told the merchant to pose as her returning husband before the judge so she could "divorce" him and be free to marry the merchant. The greedy man agreed.
In court, after the "divorce" was granted, Bahlul whispered to the judge. The judge then ruled: "Since you have been away for nine years, abandoning this faithful woman, you must pay her a compensation of 2,000 dinars for her years of suffering!"
The merchant was trapped. He couldn't admit he was lying without facing execution for perjury and fraud. He paid the gold, which the woman used to buy a shop of her own, finally finding the security she deserved.
The Vanishing Act
As word spread of the "Mad Judge's" wisdom, the people began to chant for Bahlul’s official return. The new Wali, realizing Bahlul had outsmarted him through a mask of insanity, grew furious. He ordered his guards to bring Bahlul’s head.
But Bahlul, ever the master of timing, saw the storm coming. He discarded his reed horse, left a final message of justice for the people, and vanished into the night. Some say he traveled to distant lands to teach the law; others say he remains among the poor, a silent guardian in the shadows.
Keywords: Bahlul, Judge, Wisdom, Justice, Ancient Stories, Cleverness, Islamic Folklore, Legal Riddles, Ethics, Tyranny, Courage.
0 Comments