A wandering dervish was walking towards the royal palace, considering it to be an inn for travelers. As he was about to enter, the gatekeeper stopped him and harshly inquired, "Where are you going?" The dervish, slightly startled, quickly regained his composure and replied, "Why? I am going to the inn. Why are you stopping me?" In response, the gatekeeper informed him that the place was not an inn, but rather the magnificent palace of the Emperor. However, the dervish was not ready to listen. Firmly and stubbornly, he declared, "This is not a royal palace; it is merely an inn." As this heated argument continued, several onlookers gathered. They all tried to convince the dervish that he was mistaken in his understanding. However, the dervish refused to accept his error under any circumstances. As such a heated argument was taking place, at that very moment, the Emperor himself arrived at the palace gates. After understanding the situation, the Emperor called the dervish closer and said, "You are indeed mistaken. This grand building is not an inn, but my royal palace. I am the Emperor. However, if you wish, you may still accept my hospitality and stay in the palace as my guest."
The dervish was not a simple man. He said, “I will not accept the king’s hospitality, but I will stay in this palace, because it is indeed an inn.” Eventually, the Emperor, considering him to be somewhat delusional, ordered the horse carriage to be moved forward. However, the dervish, with great insistence, said, “If you do not mind, I will explain to you why I call this palace an inn.” Hearing this, the Emperor's curiosity increased, and he agreed to listen to the dervish’s reasoning. The dervish first asked the Emperor, “Who had this palace constructed?” The Emperor replied, “One of my ancestors.” The dervish then asked, “Alright, and after him, in whose possession was this palace?”
Answer — “One of my forefathers who came after him.”
Question — “Alright, who was the last holder of rights over this?”
Answer — “My father.”
Question — “Who holds it now?”
Answer — “I do.”
Question — “Who will be the holder after you?”
Answer — “My son, then his son, and after him in succession, my great-grandson and so on — thus, in my own lineage, the descendants will continue to enjoy this.”
Then the dervish said, “In that case, it is you all — in succession from grandfather to father — who have been coming and enjoying and possessing this mansion, and further on, in succession through sons and grandsons, you will continue to enjoy and possess it?”
When the Emperor assented to this, the dervish said, “Then consider and understand: if that is so, then isn’t it the case then that this mansion is an inn as I had earlier declared it so?”
The Emperor, displaying displeasure, proceeded to depart; but once again, the dervish spoke humbly, “I have already taken some of your time — grant me a little more as alms — and allow me to ask one more question. What do you understand by the term ‘inn’?”
The Emperor replied, “That which everyone understands, I too understand the same. By ‘inn’ is meant a place where a few travellers arrive, dwell for a day or two, then depart; again, new travellers come, stay, and likewise leave — no one remains there permanently — such a place is called an inn.”
The dervish, saying “You have spoken rightly,” began to offer reasoning: “In this mansion, first there dwelt one individual, then another person, after that yet another — in this way, one after another, various individuals have lived here, and now you are residing in it. But you too shall not remain forever; you also shall depart. After you, another person from among your sons or their descendants will dwell here, and after him, yet another. In this manner, this mansion will continue to be transferred from one hand to another. Just as in an inn no one can remain forever, likewise in this mansion too, no one has been able to dwell permanently. Only the holders of possession have changed and shall continue to change. Whether you call this mansion a royal palace or by any other name, in my understanding, it is truly an inn.” Realizing the truth of the dervish’s words, the Emperor extended to him his hospitality with great honour and respect.
Now our gaze turned inward. Reading in our own document the clause, “in succession through sons and grandsons shall enjoy possession, make donations, and effect sale,” we consider ourselves the rightful owners under a permanent settlement and take great pride in it, at times boasting about it.
But reading the words of the dervish, it seems that in this world, no so-called permanent settlement confers lasting ownership. Today, or perhaps tomorrow, or after a few days, a few months, or a few years — we shall have to depart. No matter how vast the landed property or opulence under one’s conditional possession at a given moment, for us it is but a temporary lodging in a traveller’s inn. Our house under permanent settlement is not truly ours in this world — here we are but mere travellers. Considering this body to be “I,” we say of it: “this is my house,” “that is my estate,” “that is my property,” “she is my wife,” “he is my son” — with these fleeting notions of “I” and “mine,” we pass our days. But we do not inquire into the reality of the eternal “I.” Is this the mark of our wisdom? Now it is necessary to reflect on how this delusion may be dispelled.
