Many years ago, Jemal Khan lived in the wonderful city of Kandahar. Throughout the area it was famous for its beauty and nobility.
And not far from Kandahar, in a palace surrounded by high walls, lived Musa Khan, who had a beautiful daughter, Zib-un-Nissa.
Everything in this world is in God's hands! And then one day Dzhemal Khan saw Zib-un-Nissa, whom everyone in the area affectionately called Zibo. And then a fire of love lit up in the heart of the beautiful young man. He suffered far from his beloved, he dreamed of her eyes at night, and finally, after many months of heartache, he sent venerable elders to the palace of Musa Khan, who undertook to marry the beautiful Zibo to him.
Musa Khan found out that the matchmakers had been sent by Dzhemal Khan, whose name was known throughout the area, and agreed to marry his daughter to him.
Jemal Khan was delighted. Zeebo, whose heart was also burning with the fire of love, was also happy. And soon everyone in the area began to prepare for their wedding.
But happiness is as changeable as the wind... A few days before the wedding, Jemal Khan went broke.
It was difficult for him to survive this shame, and he decided to secretly go to India in order to quickly become rich again and return to his beloved Zeebo. Dzhemal Khan decided so, and as he decided, he did so.
Everyone in the area was amazed at his disappearance. And soon people decided that Jemal Khan had died somewhere.
When Zeebo found out about this, she cried for days on end and asked Allah for protection for Jemal Khan, because she did not believe in his death.
But a little time passed, and everyone forgot about Jemal Khan. And then another khan, known for his wealth, sent matchmakers to Musa Khan. Musa Khan thought, thought, and decided to give Zeebo to him as his wife.
Zeebo found out about this and began to sob. It was easier for her to die than to cheat on her loved one. That same night she wrote a letter to Jemal Khan, called a messenger and told him to go to India.
“Go,” she said, “find my beloved and give him this letter!”
And in the letter she wrote this:
“Beloved Jemal Khan, my life partner! I was destined to be your wife, but now my father has agreed to marry me off to another. The wedding should take place on the holiday of Loy Akhtar. But to be the wife of another is a shame for me. Know that if you do not arrive by that time, I will no longer be alive. I will not bear this shame and will poison myself...” The messenger hid the letter on his chest and that same night rode off on a fast horse to India.
He had to visit many cities and villages before he reached Hindustan.
A messenger went from city to city, jostled in noisy bazaars - everywhere he looked for his beloved Zeebo. But Jemal Khan was nowhere to be found. And the day of Loy Akhtar was already approaching.
The tired messenger walked around the bazaar, looked into the faces of those he met, and asked passers-by if anyone knew an Afghan named Dzhemal Khan. But all searches for him were in vain. .
The messenger had already decided to return with sad news to his homeland to the beautiful Zibo, who stood on a high tower day and night waiting for news. And suddenly, in the noisy crowd in the square, he saw Dzhemal Khan, surrounded by a noisy crowd of richly dressed people.
The messenger was delighted, rushed to him, pushing away the people, and handed him a letter from Zeebo.
Jemal Khan’s beautiful eyes filled with tears of joy when he took the precious news from his beloved in his hands.
But great was his grief when he read the letter. Jemal Khan prayed, asking Allah to save the life of his beloved. After all, the prayers of a suffering heart sometimes reach the Almighty. And then Dzhemal Khan and the messenger ran out of the city gates. Without making out the road, they ran further and further and soon found themselves in a dense forest. Huge trees went high into the sky, thick foliage did not allow the sun's rays to pass through - eternal twilight reigned here.
Suddenly, in a small clearing, Jemal Khan saw four malangs. All four were furiously arguing about something, shouting and spitting on the ground, calling all the saints as witnesses to their rightness.
[Malyang – beggar, derzish.]
Approaching them, Jemal Khan said this:
- Greetings, oh travelers! Who are you? Where are you going? And what are you arguing about?
“We are murids of the same feast.” Pir died that week, and we inherited four things from him: a knapsack, a prayer mat, a club and a rope. So we can’t divide them in any way.
Jemal Khan, despite the excitement and grief in which he was, smiled:
- We found something to argue about! What kind of wealth is this - a knapsack and a rope?
“Never judge hastily, O traveler, otherwise you will make many mistakes in life,” said one of the Malangs. - All these things are not simple, but magical, otherwise how could we quarrel? This knapsack seems ordinary, but as soon as you want something, what you want will immediately appear in it.
- And this prayer mat? Priceless rug! – the other boy sighed and affectionately stroked the frayed fringe with his hand. “You just have to stand on it and perform namaz, and you can immediately fly away.” wherever you want...
- And the baton? – added the third malang. - There is no price for this baton. Just give the order and she will beat whoever you want.
The fourth malang took the rope in his hands:
- Do you know what kind of rope this is? He will tie up anyone you want and never let him go.
Hearing all this, Jemal Khan mentally thanked Allah and addressed the Malangs with the following words:
- I can resolve your dispute, oh malangi! Are you willing to listen to me?
- We agree! – the Malyangi exclaimed in one voice.
- Okay. Then listen. Now I will shoot an arrow from my bow, and whoever finds it first and brings it back will be the owner of all these magical things. Do you agree?
- We agree! – again in one voice and this time the Malyangi exclaimed joyfully. They immediately lined up near Jemal Khan, waiting for him to shoot an arrow.
Dzhemal Khan pulled the bowstring so tightly that it rang subtly. Another moment - and the arrow soared high into the sky.
Like hounds, the malyangi rushed after the arrow, knocking down and pushing each other away.
And Dzhemal Khan needed only this. He quickly performed prayer, stood on the mat, took a knapsack, a club, a rope and said a spell:
– I want to be in Kandahar!
A carpet of clouds flew up, and Dzhemal Khan, laughing with happiness, saw rivers, forests and mountains flashing beneath him. He waited impatiently for his native land to appear below.
Less than an hour had passed before the carpet smoothly landed on the city square. Fun reigned all around, lively and joyful people crowded noisily everywhere.
- Come on, rope, tie them all up and don’t let them go! And if anyone disobeys, work on it, you bludgeon,” Dzhemal Khan whispered quietly.
Oh, what started here! Not a single person could escape! And whoever tried, then groaned bitterly and complained about his fate, rubbing his hefty bumps.
Meanwhile, night had already fallen, the night before the Loy Akhtar holiday.
Zeebo sat in her room and tears flowed from her eyes. She waited until midnight to take the deadly poison and keep her vow to her beloved.
Suddenly she heard the voice of Jemal Khan calling her. “Isn’t this a dream?” – Zeebo thought and took a grain of poison in her hand.
But Jemal Khan called her louder and louder. But Zeebo could not recover from her amazement and remained silent.
But then the door of her room opened, and on the threshold she saw a joyful, laughing Dzhemal Khan. And then they rushed into each other’s arms and froze, forgetting about everything.
And the next day they got married. And from then on, the life of Zibo and Jemal Khan was full of happiness.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru