Vol. 8a, Sufi Teachings The Spell of Life
There was a king who had a servant who was a great drunkard. Once, wishing to amuse himself, the king told the other servants to give the man a lot to drink and to put him into his own bed when he was completely overcome. When the day broke, there were musicians playing, as was the custom, and ten or twelve girls were singing in the king's room to waken him.
When the servant awoke he thought, 'What has happened to me? Last night I was a servant; now I am in the king's bed and everything is kingly! Am I a servant or am I a king?' When he looked at the girls, they all bowed. Everyone called him 'Your Majesty'.
He got up and went out. Then he came to the Durbar. There he was seated on a throne and all the vizirs came, bowed before him, and presented their addresses. He thought, 'I must be a king. If I had only been a king in the bedroom, it would have been nothing, but here too everyone bows and says "Your Majesty!"'
The whole day he enjoyed his kingship. But in the evening his wife came. The night before, when he did not come home, she had thought that perhaps he was lying drunk somewhere. She looked for him everywhere, and when she could not find him she went to the palace. No one stopped her, because the king had given his orders. When her husband saw her he looked at her as if she were death; he thought, 'I cannot be a king, because if I were, my wife would not be here. I shall have to go with her!'
She said, 'What are you doing here? You did not come home; I have had no food, and you are enjoying yourself here. Come with me.' He said, 'I do not know you; go away.' But she said, 'You are my husband, come with me.' And she dragged him away, while he kept on saying, 'I am a king, I am a king.'
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