Even pretty Pitt cannot live forever
IWRITE here about Brad Pitt’s seemingly age-defying appearance and we all want to buy into that, and indeed any form of immortality wherever it may appear to be on offer. Don’t we?
But it’s a chimera; a false idol. We should browse through the Tales Of The Arabian Nights for timeless wisdom as to our timeless mortality. Here’s my favourite, probably first told well over 2,000 years ago. The Tales were first recorded in writing in around 700AD and were current in the Middle East for generations before that.
A wealthy merchant sent his best servant down into the market in Baghdad to buy provisions. However, the man reappeared empty-handed within minutes, and he was in a blind panic.
“I am sorry, master, but I saw Death standing in the market place! She was staring at me, and raised her hand in a threatening gesture! I must flee!”
The master considered.This was, obviously, nonsense, but he must stand by his man.
“Very well.Take my best horse and ride across the desert to my house in Samarra. I will send word for you there.” The man did as he was told and galloped away like the wind in a cloud of dust. Soon he had vanished over the horizon. His master was left increasingly annoyed. He was now down his best servant and his finest horse. And for what?
He took his second-best horse and rode down himself to the market. Sure enough, Death was loitering there, blackcowled and skeletal. Unafraid, he approached her. “What do you mean, threatening my best man like that?” he demanded. “He is fit and well. You have no business with him here. Why did you make a threatening gesture at him? I’m most displeased.” Death was momentarily surprised. Then she smiled, and nodded. “Ah! Now I understand. And I share your surprise, Sir. Because that was no threatening gesture... it was one of surprise. I was astonished to see your man here in Baghdad this morning, of all mornings!”
The merchant frowned. “Why?” Death smiled again and spread her bony fingers “Because I have an appointment with him tonight... in Samarra...”