The Whole World in My Home

Sulayma was not one of those girls reared in palaces, nor a university graduate, but one of those whose culture was limited to the measure that the town of her own good country had allotted her.

The days had folded up a long record between us, during which we had nearly forgotten one another — had not the play of chance and its jesting brought us together on the road.

So we became acquainted and grew fond of one another anew. Then she began presenting her four children to me as if they were pieces of her own self, fair of face and neat of dress. I asked her: And are you happy with this, my sister? She answered: Why not? Come and see — the whole world is in my home. I have such ease and comfort of living, and such devotion and gallantry from my husband, that I am immersed in a constant bliss. After this, is there anything left to desire? So I patted her shoulder and promised her a visit at the first opportunity.

I walked on repeating her words as a conjurer repeats the rest of his spell. It was, by my faith, a beautiful confession, of a kind women have not accustomed us to hearing; rather we see one of them, the moment her circumstances grow hard, begin reproaching fate for her misery and deprivation. What, then, of this woman who, unlike other women, acknowledges God's blessing upon her and sees the whole world in her home — who even boasts of it before people and smiles with delight at its mention? I said to myself: perhaps she has married some wealthy, moneyed man who has made her forget time's trickery and loosened her tongue in thanksgiving.

It was incumbent upon me to keep my promise, not merely as a matter of duty, but so that I might witness at close hand that world she had deposited in her home as a trust is deposited in a noble breast.

There she was, watching for me from afar. No sooner had I made out her house than I felt a chill of bewilderment, for I thought I must have mistaken the house: this little building, which appeared to me at a distance of some meters like a red dot, could not possibly, small as it was, contain more of the world's goods than its own small space would hold.

Surely my friend had been joking. Then I said to myself: Go forward — do not let the world's huge edifices beguile you, nor let great bodies deceive you; perhaps the most trifling of things are the greatest in benefit. Was it not said: Do you think yourself a small body, when within you the greater world lies folded?

This red dot you are mocking is the symbol of true love, of faithfulness, of happiness and beauty.

This sermon had an effect on my soul that restored my calm, and I ran toward my friend like a rushing torrent, and she came forward to meet me in turn. She brought me into a small room she had prepared for visitors, and before long she made to go out, and I understood that she wished to change out of her work clothes. She excused herself gently, saying that the hour of her husband's arrival had come, and went out to adorn herself, while I let my eyes rove over the corners of the house, searching for the world — and finding nothing out of the ordinary among its furnishings. Then I understood that by "the world" she meant what she found in her home of contentment, satisfaction, confidence, and well-being.

My friend returned after a short while in the most splendid show of adornment and the most marvelous arts of beauty, in the belief that this brings joy to the heart of the tired, careworn husband. Then she sat down beside me, telling me of the happiness of love, of play, and of work that she found in her world, while I gazed at her radiant beauty and revered in it that divine art which God diffuses through His creation, granting man to sense it in every scene and every condition — so that when his faculties are filled with its delights, patience grows sweet in his breast and the bitter turns palatable in his mouth.

My friend perceived that I had begun to understand the meaning of the world that was in her home, so she pulled me by the hand, saying: Come, let us go to the garden and refresh ourselves in its gentle breeze. One swift glance was enough to show that the garden's arrangement in that exquisite geometric design was the work of her own hands. Then she raised her eyes to me and said slyly: Is this not the paradise of this world? I said: Indeed it is, and you are the mistress of eternity within it. She smiled, then said: Come, let me show you the house library — you may find some precious books in it. And the library, small as it was, was the most precious thing her world contained; the most prominent item in it was the set of the Household Encyclopedia. I said: There is still a grievous shortage of books in your library. She said: True — but when I came into this world of mine, I saw that true culture is the kind that begins with knowing what a woman needs for raising her children and managing her home. So do not mock these books, few though they are, for they are the best instrument for guiding the housewife.

She would have finished what she was saying, had not some knocks at the door interrupted her, by which I knew that her husband had come. She flew to meet him like a speeding arrow, and then the two of them came toward me, each arm in arm with the other like a bridal pair. The husband greeted me with courtesy and charm, and when we had settled down, I asked him: Are you happy with Sulayma? He answered, smiling: "Perfectly happy. Ever since she came under my wing and I came under her care, she has brought me the world with all its joy, as the jinn brought to Solomon the throne of his Bilqis." I said: And what is the constitution of your happiness, that we may make of it a lesson and an admonition? He said: "Each of us lowers to the other the wing of humility, out of mercy..."