Reader One:

Bismillahirrahmanirrahim - Let us begin in the name of the All-Merciful, the All-Compassionate.
  

Reader Two:

Once upon a time, in a place not too far away, two friends were travelling the road together telling each other stories to pass the time. And one said to the other: 
 

Reader One:

Tell me where you get your stories from, you seem to know so many. And the other replied:
  

Reader Two:

Well, once upon a time in the Muslim world there was a wonderful storyteller – or perhaps there wasn’t really, the truth is sometimes hard to tell. But certainly there are lots of stories that have been handed down, and some of them mean a lot more than they seem to say. Or so I have heard, for every story that has a teller must have a listener.
  

Reader One:

Like me?
   

Reader Two:

Well, yes, like you, or whoever else might be listening, at least while I’m doing the telling and you and whoever are listening.
   

Reader One:

That’s good. I like to feel useful and included.
   

Reader Two:

And those stories have been used to teach the meaning of life. Not the mechanics of life that can be taught to the intellect, using argument and analysis, but the meaning that lies beneath, that confronts logic with paradox, that truth of our life experience that can be as hard to hold on to as a bar of soap in a bath of water, that side of life that we glimpse when we fall in love, or listen to music, or otherwise encounter beauty.
   

Reader One:

And “God is Beautiful and loves Beauty” said the Prophet.
   

Reader Two:

Indeed, and God’s creation involves two kinds of knowledge, two seas of knowledge, the outer and the inner. The outer knowledge we tend to find in schools and universities, but the inner knowledge we find passed down through the ages in a much more subtle manner. And though the inner knowledge recognises the place of outer knowledge, like the child that saw the absence of the king’s new clothes, it clearly recognises its deficiencies, whereas the outer knowledge rarely recognises, let alone understands, the wisdom of the inner.
   

Reader One:

And that’s what they call the wisdom of the idiots. 
   

Reader Two:

You know our wise idiot has many names around the world and down through history. In some places he is known as crazy Joha, and in others as the Mullah Nasruddin. 
   

Reader One:

And what’s he known as in Scotland?
  

Reader Two:

I don’t know, just an ordinary name, someone who might live up your close or down your street, someone who might seem a little strange - friendly but a bit peculiar. 
   

Reader One:

Oh, in our street that has to be wee Malky, he’s friendly enough, but he’s not quite all there. Definitely peculiar!
   

Reader Two:

That’s sounds like him, wee Malky, the holy man. I think you’ll find that he’s known to his Muslim friends as the Mad Mullah. That’s him, Mullah Malky.
   

Reader One:

Could be.
   

Reader Two:

Well, see if this sounds like him. You know, once upon a time Mullah Malky was reported to the authorities for going around saying that the wise men of his day were all ignorant and confused. He was accused of slander and heresy and brought before a jury of seven famous philosophers, logicians and doctors of law. When the judge said “Malky, you may speak first” he said “Please give these so-called wise men pens and paper, and have them each write an answer to the question ‘What is bread?’’” This was done, and when they had finished Malky had the answers read out to the gathering. 

The first said “Bread is a food”, the second “It is flour and water”, the third “It’s a gift from God”, and the fourth had written “Baked dough”. The fifth said “It all depends on what you mean by ‘bread’”, the sixth “It’s a nutritious substance”, and the last said “It’s not really possible to define”. “When they can decide what bread is” said Malky “it might be possible for them to decide other things, such as whether I am right or wrong. But isn’t it strange that they can’t agree about something which they eat every day, yet they are unanimous that I am a liar and a heretic?”
   

Reader One:

Now that reminds me of a story of Malky, when he was working as a ferryman and a famous scholar came on board his boat. Shortly after he was on board he asked the Mullah about the impending weather conditions, and he replied “I don’t know nothing about that”, or perhaps something a little coarser. “What awful language. Have you never studied grammar?” said the scholar. “No” said Malky. “In that case” said the scholar “I’m afraid half of your life has been wasted.” The Mullah said nothing and just kept rowing, but soon a great storm blew up and the boat started filling up with water. Malky then shouted out to his passenger “Tell me, my learned friend, have you ever learned to swim?”. “No!” he shouted back. “Well, in that case schoolmaster all your life is lost, because I’m afraid the boat is sinking.”
   

Reader Two:

Ah yes, scholars often think that the only thing of any importance is what they study. As Ahmad Minai, a sufi saint once said, “Intellectuals try to abolish any learning that can’t be contained in books. This doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist, just that it’s more difficult to find and teach, since the intellectuals have trained people not to look for it.”
  

Reader One:

Yes, it’s like that other well-known story where one night a group of friends were walking home when they came to the lamp at the end of Malky’s street, and underneath it they found the Mullah scrabbling around on his hands and knees. “What are you doing Malky?” they asked. “I’ve lost the key to my house” he said, so being good natured they all spread out around the lamp to help him search. After a while, one said “Are you sure you dropped your key here Malky?” “Oh no” he replied “I dropped it down there by my front door, but the light to search by is up here.”
   

Reader Two:

As it says in the Qur’an, “God is the Light of the heavens and the earth”
   

Reader One:

Or as Hasan of Basra (a man sometimes called the patriarch of Muslim mysticism) said “I saw a child carrying a light and asked him where it had come from. Whereupon he put it out and said ‘You tell me where it’s gone.’’”
   

Reader Two:

Or as Attar of Nishapur (the sufi) said “The true lover only finds the light if, like the candle, he is his own fuel, consuming himself.”
   

Reader One:

Al-Shibli (born in Baghdad in the eighth century) once explained how a dog showed him the way along the spiritual path. The dog was almost dead with thirst despite standing by a pool of water, for every time he approached the water the dog saw his reflection and took fright, thinking it was another dog. But when finally he leapt into the water, the other dog vanished, and the barrier between him and what he longed for melted away. It was himself.
   

Reader Two:

As Hazrat Ali (son-in-law of the Prophet) said “Your medicine is in you and you do not observe it. Your ailment is from yourself, and you do not register it.”
   

MUSIC  
   

Reader One:

So are all these stories just handed down by word of mouth? Haven’t any of them been written down?
   

Reader Two:

Well, of course they have, and some of them are famous around the world, books like the Conference of the Birds, or even more famous, the Thousand and One Nights. Now in this part of the world, the Thousand and One Nights, tales of Sinbad the Sailor, Alladin and Ali Baba, with their wondrous happenings, their wizards and their djinni, are thought of as stories for children, or reduced to themes for a pantomime. The originals are really teaching stories shedding light on human behaviour, but by the time they reach the pantomime stage there’s little of the original stories left.
   

Reader One: 

Much like the story of Malky, when his cousin came from the country bearing a gift of a nice fat duck. Malky was very grateful, had the bird cooked, and shared it with his guest. The next day a stranger arrived at his door, saying he was a friend of the cousin who had brought the duck, so Malky invited him in also, and fed him before he went on his way. Over the next few days several people turned up at his door, each of them a friend of the giver of the duck, and each of them ate heartily before going on his way, and by this time Malky was starting to lose his patience.
  

Reader Two:

Yes, until finally a man arrived who said he was a friend of a friend of a friend of the man who had brought Malky the duck, and Malky, not wanting to be inhospitable invited him in also. But when they sat at the table for their meal the guest seemed annoyed when a bowl of hot water was placed on the table before him. “What’s this?” said the guest. “Oh that”, said Malky “is the soup of the soup of the soup of the duck.”
   

Reader One:

But some people would wonder if these stories are really Islamic, or if they are just humorous stories told by Muslims?
   

Reader Two:

Or indeed how you can tell the difference. Certainly many of them, like the stories of Rumi, are clearly and specifically concerned with the spiritual and religious aspects of life, and over the centuries they have been used to teach their morals in the mosque. In fact there are even many such stories, that might be seen as no more than entertaining fables, if it weren’t that they were written in the Qur’an, such stories as those of Solomon and the Ant, and tales of the Djinni, the Queen of Sheba, the Men of the Cave, and of course the lessons given to Moses.
   

Reader One:

Oh, I love that story. Let’s tell it. It was a time when Moses went on a journey in search of knowledge with a companion, much like you and me, and by the strange behaviour of a magical fish he was led to a meeting with one of God’s servants, ‘Abdallah (sometimes considered by Qur’anic commentators to be Khidr, the Green Man). So Moses asked the stranger if he could teach him the inner knowledge, but he said that he would be impatient in the face of an understanding he had never encountered before.
   

Reader Two:

But Moses said “I will trust in your judgement”, and so ‘Abdallah agreed that they could travel the road together, and so they did, until they reached a point along the coast where a ship was berthed, whereupon God’s servant made a hole in the side to sink it. At this, Moses couldn’t hold his tongue, but when ‘Abdallah pointed out his impatience, he said “I’m sorry, I won’t question you again.”
   

Reader One:

So they travelled on until they met a young boy beside the road, and without warning ‘Abdallah killed him. “You’ve just killed an innocent child” said Moses “That was a terrible thing.” “Did I not say you couldn’t be patient?” said God’s servant, “Question me again and you will have to leave my company.” So Moses agreed to remain silent once more and they travelled on. But then they came to a city, and when they asked for food the inhabitants were rudely inhospitable and turned them away. 

On the edge of town, however, God’s servant stopped by a tumbledown wall and repaired it. “Why do you help them freely in that way, when you could have asked for payment” said Moses.
   

Reader Two:

Whereupon God’s servant said “Now, this is the parting of our ways. Let me explain what you couldn’t observe patiently because you didn’t understand. The ship belonged to some poor men who earned their living on the sea, but approaching that region was a king with his army seizing all usable boats by force to use for his own purposes. The hole was small, and after the king has passed by the boat’s owners will easily be able to repair it.”
   

Reader One:

“As for the boy, he was a ne’er-do-well who would cause his parents endless grief and now their Lord will send them a son who will treat them with compassion and tenderness. As for the wall, it belonged to two orphans, and beneath it was a treasure hidden by their father to await their coming of age. If it had been discovered before that time it would have been stolen and they would never have come into their inheritance. I did these things not from my own volition but as a mercy from your Lord” said God’s servant “This is the explanation of what you have seen and could not bear with patiently.”
   

Reader Two:

Sometimes the things that God wills seem most unfair to us, with our limited vision of the way things are, and our lack of vision of the future. It sometimes seems that the most common reason given for disbelief in God is “If there were a Just and Merciful God how is it possible that He could let so many innocents suffer.” Of course, the answer is “If God’s Mercy and Justice didn’t exist, why would you care about human suffering at all.”
   

MUSIC
  

Reader One:

I suppose it’s a common myth in this part of the world that Islam is dreadfully serious, all old men with long beards shouting threats at the West and preaching imminent doom and destruction. It’s a rather strange outcome considering that Muhammad was known as the most laughing and smiling of men.
   

Reader Two:

Even more strange since it’s only a few years since the West thought of Islam not as repressive and restrictive but as shameless and dissolute, lustful and licentious. Yet here we are, in a time and place in which the idea that Islam might be associated with laughter and good humour is seen as a contradiction in terms.
   

Reader One:

So what is the truth?
   

Reader Two:

Ah, well, that reminds me of another story of the Mullah Malky. One day, Malky was arguing with a judge. “The Law doesn’t make people good; it just makes them careful” he said, “For people to be good they must become attuned to inner truth, a form of truth that resembles what you think of as truth only slightly.”

Now, the king overheard the conversation, and disagreeing with the Mullah, decided that he could and would make people tell the truth. So, next to the gates of the city he erected a gallows, and instructed the Guards that they should challenge all those that wished to enter, with those who responded to questioning truthfully being allowed to enter, whereas those who replied with lies were to be hanged.
   

Reader One:

I know this one. Next day, Malky approached the gates. “Where are you going?” said the guard. “Unfortunately” said Malky, “I’m on my way to be hanged.” “That can’t be true” said the guard. “Very well” said Malky “so hang me if I’m lying.” “But if we do,then we will have made what you say come true” said the guard. “Correct! Now you know what truth is – Your truth” said Malky.
    

Reader Two:

Certainly the truth that Malky speaks of isn’t always easy to grasp. For instance, once upon a time the people asked the Mullah to preach a sermon in the mosque. When the day came, he mounted the pulpit and said “Do you know about what I am going to tell you?”. “Of course not” they replied. “Well then, what’s the point of my talking. You are too ignorant to understand.” said Malky, and came down from the pulpit and went home.

Next week, slightly chastened, the people again asked him to preach, and he started his sermon in the same way as the week before. “Do you know about what I am going to tell you?” he said. This time they thought they had learned their lesson, and replied “Yes, we know.” “Well in that case” said Malky “there is no need for me to tell you.” and again came down from the pulpit and went home.

The third week they tried again, but this time when he asked “Do you know about what I am going to tell you?” they were ready. “Some of us do, and some of us don’t” they replied. “Excellent” said Malky, “Let those who know pass on what they know to those who don’t”, and for the last time came down from the pulpit and went home.
    

Now, obviously it’s not always easy to discover the inner truth of the Mullah’s teachings, but sometimes that inner meaning is hidden behind a much more apparent outer meaning, which on occasions can be perfectly obvious, eminently sensible, and even downright useful.
    

Reader One:

How about when Malky was a young man, and his father used to berate him for lying in bed until late in the morning. “My son, it is much better to get up early in the morning.” he said, “You know, one morning early I found a wallet full of money lying in the street.” “But you could just as easily have found that the night before” said Malky. His father, however, said “No, no, no. I walked past that spot the previous evening and the wallet wasn’t there.” “Then the early morning isn’t good luck for everyone” said Malky, “as the person who lost the wallet was obviously up and about before you.”

Talking of wallets, I’ve been wondering how Malky managed to fill his.
    

Reader Two:

Well, with a certain amount of difficulty. It’s common enough for people to think that the religiously inclined are not only inherently simple minded but also worth very little – quite similar to Mullah Malky.
    

Reader One:

That’s true. You know on market days, Malky used to stand in the street, and people would point him out to their friends as an idiot. They used to prove it by offering him a choice between two coins, and he invariably chose to take the coin of lesser value. One day a well-wisher said to him “Malky, you should take the larger coin. Then you will make more money and the people won’t ridicule you.” “That might be true” said the Mulla, “but if I started taking the larger coin, people would stop offering me money to prove to others what a fool I am. And then I wouldn’t get any money at all.”
    

Reader Two:

I wonder what it might feel like to hear that on your radio if you were sitting in a shop doorway on a freezing morning.

Cue music.
    

MUSIC
 

Reader One:

So was Malky always a poor man?
    

Reader Two:

Well, certainly in cash terms, as he was never too concerned with amassing a worldly fortune. But a cat can look at a king, of course, so he was on occasion known to fraternise with those who thought themselves a considerable social cut above him.

In fact, once upon a time, Malky heard that the Prince was to hold a Jubilee banquet in his nearby palace, to which everyone, rich or poor would be welcomed. So the Mullah went along dressed in his usual ragged clothes, as might be expected of a poor and simple man. Now when he entered the banqueting hall they took one look at his rags and seated him as far from the Prince as possible, and whereas the guests at the top table were already being served, it was clearly going to be an hour or more before the waiters reached him. 

So Malky left the gathering and went home again, where he opened an old trunk that had been left to him by his grandfather, drew out a magnificent cloak and hat and put them on. This time, when he returned to the banqueting hall clad in this splendid attire, everyone thought he must be a wealthy dignitary and the Lord High Chamberlain himself came to greet him, seating him next to himself and almost next to the Prince. 

Immediately, a huge dish of wonderful food was set before him, and straight away Malky picked up handfuls of the food and began to rub them into his cloak. 

 “Excuse me your eminence” said the Chamberlain “I am curious as to your eating habits. I haven’t seen their like before.” “Oh” said the Mullah “That’s easy to explain. It was the cloak that got me the food, so it’s only fair that it receives its portion.”
    

Reader One:

Now that can mean so many things, depending on how you say it.
    

Reader Two:

You know, once upon a time someone complained to a Sufi sage that the stories which he told were interpreted in one way by some people and in other ways by others. “That is precisely their value” said the sage. “Surely you wouldn’t think much of a cup out of which you could drink milk but not water, or a dish from which you could eat meat but not fruit? But a cup and a dish are very limited containers. How much more capable should language be to provide nutrition? The question is not ‘How many ways can I understand this, and why can I not see it in just one way?’ The question is rather ‘Can this individual profit from what he is finding in the tales?’”
    

Reader One:

Of course, at different ages and stages in our lives, such stories mean different things as we discover more about ourselves and the creation that surrounds us. And our response to the way such tales are told can have equal variation over the span of our lives. An infant might demand that a bedtime story be repeated regularly and exactly word for word. 
    

Reader Two:

While a teenager, bored by the pace of anything less than frenzied, may yet be happy to get lost in endless repetition of a simple song. 

Then in the maturity of middle life we mostly demand variations in texture, setting or presentation, to add interest to old familiar themes. Whereas old folks will happily repeat a tale for the hundredth time as though it were the first time they had told it, quite oblivious to the eyes raised heavenwards of their audience capable of foretelling that same story word for word.
   

Reader One:

As a group of storytellers in some part of the Muslim world might remember and recite: Some say “This is an old, old story you are telling”, while others say “You are simply making all this up as you go along.” Some say “Tell us that tale that we know so well once more”, while others say “Oh no, not that boring old story again.” Some say “I’ve heard this all before”, while others say “This is not the way it’s supposed to be told. This is not the way that I know the story.” But then, as they would say. “These are our people, dear friend, this is mankind.”
    

Reader Two:

Which, of course, includes me and you, you and me and the BBC, speakers and listeners, tellers of tall-tales and tall tale-tellers, one world, one creation, one Creator, and amidst it all the magnificent Mad Mullah Malky.
    

Reader One:

One evening Mullah Malky was walking home on a deserted road that was bounded on one side by the wall of the local graveyard. Suddenly he saw in the distant shadows coming towards him a group of men that he thought looked most suspicious. Immediately his mind started racing, and he imagined himself being painfully beaten, robbed of his money and left for dead. Sick with terror, he ran back and forth across the road looking for a place to hide and finally decided that his best plan was to leap over the graveyard wall and look for somewhere. Which he did. 
    

Reader Two:

Now, the group of people coming towards him saw this shadowy figure in the distance behaving in a very suspicious manner, and when they saw it leap over the graveyard wall they decided to investigate. Finally they found the Mullah lying cowering in an open grave that had been prepared for somebody’s funeral the following day. “What are you doing in that grave, Malky?” they asked, “We saw you running away. Are you in trouble? Can we help you with something?”
    

Reader One:

Malky, as ever, was not lost for a reply. “Just because you can ask a question doesn’t mean there is a straightforward answer” he said, finally realising the truth of the situation. “In fact, it all depends upon your viewpoint, but if you must know, I am here because of you, in just the same way that you are here because of me.”
   

Reader Two:

As it says in the introduction to The Thousand and One Nights: “Praise be to God, the Master of the Universe, and prayer and peace upon the Prince of Messengers, Muhammad. And upon all his people prayer and peace together until the judgment day.
    

Reader One:

And afterwards may the legends of the men of old be lessons to the people of our time, so that a man may see those things which befell others beside himself: then he will honour and consider carefully the words and adventures of past peoples, and will reprove himself.
    

Reader Two:

So glory be to the One God, Who preserved the tales of the first dwellers to be a guide for the purposes of the last! 

CLOSING MUSIC