Whether it happened or not, the famous storyteller Seyfutdin, nicknamed the Eloquent One, once lived in Khorezm. The fame of him, like a high-water river, flowed from one country to another, and many people came to Khorezm from afar to enjoy the honey of his conversation and drink from the source of his eloquence.
And one rich Bukhara merchant heard about this storyteller. He was not used to denying himself anything and, of course, wanted to listen to the famous Seyfutdin, but he could not give up his trade and go to distant Khorezm himself. Then the merchant decided to invite this glorious master of eloquence to his place. He put rich gifts and a wallet with money on a silver tray, went to the caravanserai and bowed to the old caravan - bashi, who was leaving with camels for Khorezm. The merchant said:
“If you bring Seyfutdin the Eloquent to me, these gifts and the wallet will be yours.”
The wallet was heavy, and the gifts had no price, and the caravan bashi agreed. Before the moon had time to renew itself twice, he brought the famous Seyfutdin to Bukhara. The merchant greeted the guest with the greatest honor. He showered him with gifts, and in the evening, when the guest had rested from the long journey, the merchant called his relatives, friends and neighbors, sat the narrator on a precious Tekin carpet and asked him to please everyone with the flowers of eloquence and the diamonds of wit.
The house became so quiet that one could hear a mosquito squeaking on the terrace, entangled in a web, and Seyfutdin the Eloquent began his first story.
What praise the guests showered upon the narrator after listening to his first story! They spoke words of flattery to him, like sweet sherbet. And the encouraged Seyfutdin began the second story.
The second story caused such delight that many of the listeners fell off their pillows, and the owner himself became like someone who had lost his mind and sat with a disheveled beard and bulging eyes. And although the ancient custom forbade women and children to be present during the men’s conversation, both children and women came running from all over the house to listen to Seyfutdin’s third story.
Birds from all over the garden flocked to enjoy the fourth story.
When the famous storyteller began his fifth story, all the camels and donkeys from the market came running under the windows of the merchant’s house, although everyone has known for a long time that even the prudent donkey prefers an armful of fresh hay even to the poetry of poets. This is how incomparable, extraordinary, unique, perfect and awe-inspiring, bliss-giving and excellent was the art of the Eloquent Seyfutdin!
The night passed, and the words flowed and flowed like a golden river from the narrator’s lips. The day came, and the tireless Seyfutdin kept telling and telling and telling, and it seemed that there would be no end to the flow of his eloquence.
When Seyfutdin began his one hundred and first story, the owner politely invited him to rest and refresh himself with tea, but, carried away by his art, Seyfutdin no longer saw or heard anything - he continued to tell. He told and told and told, but at the two hundred and first story, even the most patient and enduring ones slowly left the merchant’s house.
At the three hundred and first story, the women and children fled.
In 401, donkeys and camels fell dead. And Seyfutdin kept telling and talking. The house was plunged into the darkness of night, no one lit the lamps, no one made tea, there was no one to even close the doors, because all the servants had fled. Only the owner did not dare to break the duty of hospitality; he sat in front of the tireless storyteller and pinched his ears so as not to fall asleep and thereby offend his guest. He prayed to Allah for a quick death and did not know how to get rid of the ruthless king of storytellers.
And so, when the merchant was already close to death, his faithful wife Saltan-Bibi looked through the window. The poor woman had no doubt that the merchant had long ago choked on the terrible downpour of stories, and came to bury her husband’s lifeless body. But the merchant was still breathing. Seeing his wife, he perked up and, gathering his last strength, groaned:
- O Saltan-Bibi, the most faithful of the most faithful! Run quickly to the caravan bashi and redeem my soul from death!
Allah is my witness! When the gray-haired caravan bashi entered the merchant's house, Seyfutdin was telling the eight hundred and first tale!
The unfortunate owner hugged the old man’s knees and screamed:
“My father, because you brought Seyfutdin to me, I gave you a tray with gifts and a purse of gold, but for the fact that you take him away, I am ready to give you everything I have - this house, and the garden, and the shops, and all my wealth!”
The gray-haired caravan bashi had seen many miracles in his lifetime, and he was not surprised at the merchant’s request. He smiled into his beard and said:
“People say it’s true: it’s not the master who starts well, but the one who knows how to finish on time!”
Let us also finish our fairy tale, so as not to become like the Eloquent Seyfutdin.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru