M6:2363 — زانک جاهل ننگ دارد ز اوستاد / لاجرم رفت و دکانی نو گشاد

Translation: Because the ignoramus feels shame before a master, He necessarily went and opened a new shop. Meaning: This couplet speaks to the arrogance of the ignorant person who, rather than humbly submitting to a teacher, feels ashamed of acknowledging his lack of knowledge. Instead, he boldly opens his own 'shop,' pretending to be a master, a practice Mowlana vigorously critiques.

Mowlana introduces this couplet with a unique and decisive tone, deeming it 'vital' and 'essential.' He seemed to fear that the 'ignoramus' of his era—a veiled reference, I believe, to certain philosophers and dogmatic theologians—were obscuring the profound simplicity of the prophetic invitation, thereby diverting people toward their own counterfeit wares. He felt the very essence of religion was at stake, and this parable served as a crucial warning. This directness is unusual for Mowlana; rarely does he emphasize the urgency of a parable so explicitly. He states that those who abandon the simple, straightforward path condemn their own souls to unnecessary suffering.

I am one hundred percent certain that this verse extends beyond mere philosophy or academia; this ailment pervades all domains of human endeavor. The jāhel, or ignoramus, is not merely someone who lacks knowledge, but one who refuses to acknowledge their own ignorance. Instead of humble apprenticeship before the truly wise, they feel a deep 'shame' (nang) at the prospect of bowing before a master. This shame stems not from modesty, but from pride and arrogance. Consequently, they set out to establish their own 'new shop' (dokān-i now gushād), a place where they falsely claim mastery, peddling goods they themselves do not possess. This act of 'opening a new shop' is precisely what Mowlana elsewhere calls 'claiming shaykh-hood in the world' or 'equating oneself with the prophets.' Such individuals, in their profound self-deception, believe, 'They are human, we are human too / Both worthy of sleep and food,' oblivious to the truth that 'between them is a difference without end.'

Mowlana explicitly declares that 'the teachers of religiosity are the prophets.' Therefore, anyone who, instead of following these true masters, considers themselves their equal and opens a parallel shop, has strayed from the authentic path. He states elsewhere, 'Whoever takes up a profession without a master / Becomes a laughingstock in town and village.' Similarly, 'Whoever travels without a guide / Makes a two-day journey a year-long one.' Only the Necessary Existent (God) needs no master; all other created beings are dependent on exemplars and instructors.

Such a shop offers no benefit; indeed, according to Mowlana, it is not merely 'above the master's' but 'full of stench, scorpions, and snakes.' It is a place of decay and spiritual venom, bringing darkness instead of light, destruction instead of life. What then is the remedy? 'Swiftly demolish the shop and return / To the greenery, rose gardens, and pure spring.' We must dismantle this deceptive edifice and return to the truth, to the 'greenery, rose gardens, and pure water' of genuine knowledge and righteous guidance, which flows to the thirsty from the hands of true masters—the prophets and saints.

Key takeaways

• Arrogant pride and shame at acknowledging one's ignorance are the primary obstacles to attaining true knowledge.
• Opening a counterfeit 'shop' and claiming mastery without qualification is a path to misguidance and spiritual ruin.
• Mowlana emphasizes that only prophets and saints are the true masters of religiosity, and we are in need of their tutelage.
• For Mowlana, this parable was a 'vital' warning against false claimants and spiritual highwaymen in his time, and ours.
• The outcome of self-conceit and unauthorized 'shop-opening' is suffering and perdition; the remedy is to demolish this false edifice and return to the pure springs of true knowledge.