Hidayat Inayat-Khan now offers another insightful anecdote from his childhood, which was confirmed years later.. The previous post in the series is here.

A workman digging in the street

One day, while Murshid was going out through the gate of Fazal Manzil, holding my hand tight so that I would not run wildly across the road as I often did, he was most astonished to see a workman digging a deep ditch just in front of the house, and with hands and clothes covered with mud.

Murshid walked toward the workman and gently took off his hat to him: and then, while shaking hands, Murshid said, “Bonjour, Monsieur.” But obviously the poor man was absolutely spellbound at the thought of being greeted by the ‘King’ in such a most friendly way, and he stood there for a while, completely panic-struck, till Murshid walked a few steps away down the road, where some mureeds were waiting and had seen what had happened.

Surprisingly enough, instead of showing their feelings of understanding for the precious example of sympathy, which Murshid had so beautifully illustrated, those who had just seen Murshid’s friendly approach, said to him as he came toward them. “But Murshid, you just can’t do that here in the West. Don’t you know that in the West you are not supposed to shake hands with a workman?”

Murshid became very sad, and with deep emotion in his voice he just only said to them, “Are we not all children of one and the same Father?” after which all walked away in silence.

Many years later, while I was walking up that same road, an elderly man came running behind me, all out of breath, asking, “Who was that King who lived in the large house just there, up the road?” And while pointing to the house, he said: “Years ago, I had been digging in the street, when suddenly the King came out of the gate, and although he had never seen me, he shook hands with so much compassion, while also lifting even his hat in such a most noble way, but I am just a workman and have never learned to read or write, nor did I ever believe in God. At that moment I really felt as though Heaven was being offered to me, by the grace of that kind King.”

He added: “There were flashes of light in the eyes of that King, which I still always see so clearly ever since, even after so many years. The mysterious magic which that King performed on me that day has protected me during my whole life, and has given me the strength and the courage to endure all the cruel hardships in this world; but more than anything else, those moments were the happiest that I have ever experienced.”

Then, with tears in his eyes, he asked me, “Who was that King? Do you perhaps know who he was and where he is?”

‘Yes,” I said, “He certainly was a King; perhaps a Heavenly King, and now, from out of Heaven he constantly sends us sparks of heavenly light, shining as flashes of blessings, always present in our hearts, whenever we open our hearts to his loving guidance.”

Then I told him that I was the little boy who was holding my Father’s hand that day, when we came out of the gate together; and I retold him the whole story with all the details which he himself had experienced, after which we both fell in each other’s arms with tears rolling down our cheeks.

To be continued…