M6:3225 — کین عمر را نان ده ای انباز من / راز یعنی فهم کن ز آواز من

Translation: "Give this 'Omar' bread, O my partner, but understand the secret from my voice." Meaning: In a Shia-majority town, a shopkeeper subtly instructs his associate not to serve a customer named 'Omar,' disguising the true message within a seemingly ordinary command to provide bread, implying that the real 'secret' is conveyed through the undertone of his voice.

This couplet is nestled within Mevlana's delightful tale of "the man named 'Omar' in the city of Kashan"; a narrative that imparts the essence of his unitive and mystery-unveiling insight into the world's apparent multiplicity and the necessity of transforming one's inner vision. In that city, where all are of one mind and heart, a man named 'Omar' wanders, perpetually denied bread wherever he goes. This beyt captures a pivotal moment where one baker (khabbāz) directs him to his 'partner' (anbāz), yet accompanies the overt command, "Give this 'Omar' bread," with the cryptic rider, "but understand the secret from my voice."

I discern in this the very crystallization of Mevlana's thought on the mystical worldview. The world, for us, much like this city of Kashan, appears to be full of diverse manifestations and distinct 'shops.' But for the 'truth-knower' (ḥaqq-shenās) who gazes upon the inner reality of things, all these shops are fundamentally one in their essence and ultimate purpose. The 'squint-eyed' (aḥwal), whose vision is afflicted by double-sight, believes the shops are separate, hoping to obtain bread from one if denied by another. However, the baker, through this hidden 'voice' (āwāz), signals to his partner that beneath the apparent multiplicity lies a hidden unity that forbids giving bread to anyone bearing the name 'Omar.' Here, 'Omar' is not merely a historical name; it symbolizes any identity or attachment that distances humanity from its true origin and entraps it in double-vision and multiplicity-worship.

Similarly, in this 'Kashan of dust' (Kāshān-i khāk), meaning the physical world, restlessness (sargardānī) and being 'passed from place to place' (ḥavāleh-yi jābejā) are the fate of the same 'aḥwal' who cannot perceive unity within multiplicity. He is constantly driven from one place to another, 'transferring anew' (naql-i naw) from corner to corner, hoping to find goodness (khayr) that he imagines lies elsewhere (ey thum khayr). Yet Mevlana asserts: "See the Friend filling the expanse of both worlds" (dūst pur bīn 'arse-ye har dū sarā). Until our vision is 'Friend-filled,' until we can perceive the Beloved's presence in all manifestations of the world, we shall remain deprived and aimless, like that man named 'Omar.'

This refusal of bread to 'Omar' is an allegory for spiritual deprivation. Mevlana here points to something deeper than mere opposition to a historical name. He speaks of 'tadarok' (remedying), of 'compensating' the name, meaning the transformation of one's inner nature and individual perspective. Had that man changed his 'Omar' identity to 'Ali,' he would have instantly received bread. This implies that inner change and transformation from divisive identities to a unitive, all-encompassing identity, is the key to liberation from 'wandering' and finding 'meaning in life.'

Mevlana speaks of the wandering of those who have "lost their home" and resort to anything to alleviate their 'melancholy' (malāl), even their Quran recitation becomes mere 'entertainment' (sargarmī). But the remedy lies in filling the 'stream of the soul' (jūybār-i jān) with 'pure, clear water' (āb-i zolāl-i ṣāfī) so that "sorrow does not linger in the hearts of gnostics" (gham napāyad dar darūn-i 'ārifān). When the soul is filled with the water of unity and love, there is no room left for debris and melancholy-inducing waste. This is only possible with a 'unitive vision' and a 'love-prone soul.'

This couplet, like the Quranic story of Queen Bilqis who mistook the glass floor for water and lifted her skirt (pas masho 'oryān cho Bilqīs az ḥubāb), teaches us not to be deceived by appearances. Seeing a 'picture' (aks) instead of reality (ḥaqīqat) is the path of error. The truth-knower recognizes the King in every garb and perceives reality not in the 'picture' but in its 'meaning' (ma'nī) and as the fruit itself, even if it initially appears in an 'imaginal' (khiyālīn) form. Mystical experiences are not mere imaginations; they are realities that have donned the garment of imagination. This beyt commands us to transcend the 'voice' (the outward sound) and comprehend the 'secret' (the inward truth) to be liberated from aimless wandering and attain the true bread of unity.

Key takeaways

• The literal word does not always contain the inner secret; one must listen to the hidden voice and context.
• The apparent multiplicity of the world can lead to spiritual wandering, but its foundation is an underlying unity.
• To escape spiritual deprivation, one must transform divisive identities ('Omar-ness') into unitive ones ('Ali-ness').
• One must not be deceived by appearances; akin to the story of Bilqis mistaking glass for water.
• Only with the 'truth-knowing' eye can one 'see the King in every garb' and discern reality from illusion.
• The solution to melancholy and aimlessness is not external, but in filling the soul's stream with the clear water of unity.