“Are you proud, son?” The old man asked with a smile.

“Are you humbled, father?” He grinned.

“Always.” The wise monk replied.

Aqil had trained years for this moment. The chance to prove himself the better man; to surpass his father in wit and skill.

Yet as the opposing king was taken off the chess board, he realised that he felt no real triumph. For even now, Al Mualim smiled a warm smile and radiated the joy and serenity he had always had.

How could he feel victorious when his opponent felt no loss?

Aqil stared enviously as Al Mualim withdrew from the battlefield and went to the prayer mat.

Now, in his waning years, prayer was a physically straining task for the old man. As he bowed his head and called upon the mercy of God for his son, he supported himself with a staff made from his favourite oak tree.

“O Aqil! I do not have much time left. Azrael knocks at my door and my father calls me. Your studies are complete. You are ready to take my place.”

“Dearest Father, how can I ever live up to your expectations? To your legend? How can I do what Al Mualim does?”

“Do not do any such thing, my son. For indeed, you must not bind yourself to the path I chose. Live your own legend. And be better than this old man. The title of Al Mualim is nothing but a title given to a teacher. But the truth is that even now, I am but a student. And today, you have taught me that it is time for me to return to the desert and dig a grave next to my father. For your time has come and mine has passed.”

With these final words he went into the desert.

The Teacher had taught all he had known and the burden fell upon another…

(An extract from “Tales of The Teacher”)

*I’m currently working on the book. Hopefully will have it published some day!