M6:1277 — من همه عمر این نیندیشیده‌ام / نه ز جز تو قحبه‌ای این دیده‌ام

Translation: All my life I have not conceived of this / Nor have I seen such a qahbah (harlot/shameless one) from any but you. Meaning: In this verse, Satan, utterly astonished and enraged, tells the old woman who has desecrated a Quran for self-adornment that even he had never conceived of such a vile act, and had never witnessed such behavior from anyone, let alone a harlot.

In this verse, Rumi recounts a tale of an old woman who, driven by vanity and a longing to appear beautiful in society, commits a truly shameful act: she rips the gilded decorations, known as 'ashar-hā-ye mushaf' (the deca-verse markers), from a precious handwritten Quran and applies them to her face. This act stems from her inner destitution and old age, contrasting with her persistent desire for youth and beauty. It is at this moment that Iblis (Satan) suddenly materializes, addressing her with immense wrath and astonishment. Satan, the very embodiment of evil and misguidance, declares that even he, throughout his long existence, had never conceived of such a deceitful and vile act, nor had he witnessed such behavior from any 'qahbah' (harlot or shameless woman) other than her. Rumi describes this as 'takhme nādir dar fazāhat'—a rare seed of disgrace—implying that humans can sometimes descend to such depths of perversion that even Iblis, the master of evil, is taken aback.

However, Rumi does not confine his critique to this old woman alone. He immediately expands his address to include false claimants of insight and mysticism—those who adorn themselves outwardly to deceive people, yet possess no inner share of truth. They 'steal the knowledge of written books' and 'the words of God's men' to peddle them and garner applause from the masses. Like the old woman, instead of cultivating genuine inner virtues, they are preoccupied with 'binding' artificial adornments from the outside. Rumi here draws a profound distinction between 'basteh' (that which is bound or artificial) and 'rasteh' (that which has sprouted or grown organically). That which is externally attached to a person can never compare to what has 'sprouted' and grown from their heart and soul. Makeup applied to the face does not truly make one 'gul-gūn' (rose-hued), and a branch tied to a tree can never replace a real 'arjūn' (a naturally curved palm branch). These metaphors all underscore the authenticity and internal origin of true virtues.

Ultimately, Rumi concludes that all these superficial adornments and borrowed claims will crumble with the arrival of the 'chādor-e marg' (the veil of death). What truly remains with a person and transcends this world to the next is not wealth or children themselves, but the 'love of wealth' and the 'love of children'—not mere deeds, but the virtues that have taken root in the soul as a result of those good deeds. This is humanity's true capital; all else are 'basteh-hā' (external attachments) that will be left behind and are not intrinsic to our essence. This beyt and the continuation of the story offer a profound critique of all hypocrisy and pretense of spirituality that lacks an inner foundation.

Key takeaways

• Even Satan can be astonished by the depravity of certain human actions; humans can surpass evil itself in vileness.
• The instrumental and hypocritical use of the sacred for worldly gain and false self-adornment is the ultimate degradation.
• Rumi critiques false spiritual claimants who adorn themselves with external displays and feign 'the words of God's men'.
• True virtue sprouts from within (rasteh) and is authentic, not a superficial borrowed glitter (basteh) attached from outside.
• Ultimately, death strips away all outward pretensions and borrowed embellishments, leaving only the essence of one's being and what has truly become part of the soul.