Battling Kufr Unbelief in The Land of I PDF

© Copyrighted Material
Chapter 14
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Battling Kufr (Unbelief) in
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the Land of Infidels: Gülşehri’s Turkish
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Adaptation of ʿAṭṭār’s Manṭiq al-Ṭayr
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Sara Nur Yıldız
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Introduction
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If the Shaykh devotes himself to these locks, he’ll gird his Sufi cloak around them
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as if it were a Christian belt1
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For whenever I reveal the unbelief of my hair, I make a Christian out of many
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a Muslim.2 ww
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The poetic image of the power of the Christian beauty’s seductive locks,
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enticing the believer into kufr (unbelief), illustrates a central theme in

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Gülşehri’s Mantıku’t-Tayr (Speech of the Birds),3 an early fourteenth-century

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Anatolian Turkish4 adaptation of ʿAṭṭār’s5 Persian mystical mathnawī of the

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1
Kemal Yavuz (ed.), Gülşehri’nin Mantıku’t-Tayr’ı (Gülşen-nāme). Metin ve Günümüz Türkçesine
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Aktarma, vol. 1 (Ankara: Kırşehir Valiliği Yayınları, 2007) (hereafter cited as Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-
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Tayr, ed. Yavuz), 68, line 456: Şeyh eger bu zülfe ikrar eyleye / Hırkasın bu zülfe zünnar eyleye. All
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English translations are my own unless otherwise specified.

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Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, couplet 458: Çün saçum küfrini peyda eyleyem / Çok
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Müsülmanları Tersa eyleyem.

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3
In addition to Kemal Yavuz’s recent edition, this work has been published in various
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formats: Agâh Sırrı Levend (ed.), Gülşehri. Manṭiḳu’ṭ-ṭayr. Tıpkıbasım (Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu
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Basımevi, 1957), (hereafter as Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Levend); and Aziz Merhan, (ed.),
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Die ‘Vogelgespräche’ Gülşehris und die Anfänge der türkischen Literatur (Göttingen: Pontus-Verlag,
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2003), (hereafter as Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Merhan).

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4
For an overview of the Oğuz or western Turkish variety spoken and written in medieval
Anatolia, usually referred to as Anatolian Turkish, or Old Anatolian Turkish (in distinction to
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Ottoman Turkish, which did not technically exist until the late fifteenth century, if not later),
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as well as its relationship to the classical Persian literary tradition, see Barbara Fleming, ‘Old
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Anatolian Turkish Poetry in its Relationship to the Persian Tradition’, in Turkic-Iranian Contact
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Areas: Historical and Linguistic Aspects, ed. Lars Johanson and Christiane Bulut (Wiesbaden:
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Harrassowitz Verlag, 2006), 49–68.

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5
We know little about the life of Farīd al-Dīn Muḥammad al-ʿAṭṭār (d. 1221), author of
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the original Persian Manṭiq al-Ṭayr (‘Speech of the Birds’, or ‘Conference of the Birds). A native
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of Nishapur and pharmacist by trade, he is believed to have died during the Mongol sack
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of Nishapur (John Andrew Boyle, ‘The Religious ‘Mathnavīs’ of Farīd al-Dīn Aṭṭār’, Iran 17
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(1979): 9; J.T.P. de Bruijn, ‘Comparative Notes on Sanāʾī and ʿAṭṭār’, in Classical Persian Sufism:
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From its Origins to Rumi, ed. Leonard Lewisohn (London and New York: Khaniqahi Nimatullahi
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Publications, 1993), 362–4).

© Sara Nur Yıldız (2015)

From A.C.S. Peacock, Bruno De Nicola and Sara Nur Yıldız (eds), Islam and Christianity in Medieval
Anatolia, published by Ashgate Publishing. See: http://www.ashgate.com/isbn/9781472448637
330 Islam and Christianity in Medieval Anatolia
same name.6 Among the many dangers lurking on the spiritual path to divine
unity in the shape of alluring idols, the Christian beauty was one of the
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most lethal. Even the most faithful Muslim was in danger of her charms, as
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Gülşehri illustrates with his account of Abdürrezzak, the Shaykh of Sanʿān,
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who apostasises in order to win the heart of a beautiful Byzantine princess.7
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The shaykh returns to his faith only with the intercession of the Prophet
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Muḥammad, obtained through the collective prayer and acts of repentance by
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his disciples.
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Although Gülşehri’s Turkish adaptation remains faithful to the essence of
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ʿAṭṭār’s masterpiece,8 it significantly differs from the Persian original in content
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and structure. In this chapter, I examine Gülşehri’s treatment of unbelief,
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arguing that his emphasis on the Muslim struggle against kufr, especially in the
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Christian context, is unique to his work. Gülşehri’s almost obsessive concern
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with kufr is particularly striking in his rendering of the legend of the Sīmurgh,
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the account of the Prophet Muḥammad and Ṣafwān (an episode which is original
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to Gülşehri’s text), and his rewriting of the story of the Shaykh of Ṣanʿān,
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the pivotal narrative episode in both Gülşehri’s and ʿAṭṭār’s work. Gülşehri’s
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particular reshaping of the Speech of the Birds, one of the earliest datable works in
Anatolian Turkish,9 may be attributed in part to his geographical and historical
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6
ʿAṭṭār, Farīd al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm Nishābūrī, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Muḥammad-
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Riżā Shafīʿī-Kadkanī (Tehran: Intishārāt-i Sukhan, 7th edn, sh.1389/2010), hereafter referred
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to as ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī. English translations of ʿAṭṭār’s Manṭiq al-Ṭayr
include: Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis (trans.), Farid ud-Din Attar: The Conference of the Birds
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(London: Penguin, 1984); Peter Avery (trans.), The Speech of the Birds: Concerning Migration to the
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Real, the Manṭiqu’ṭ-ṭair. Farīdu’d-Dīn ʿAṭṭār (Cambridge: Islamic Texts Society, c.1998).
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7
The story of the Shaykh of Sanʿān’s apostasy induced by his burning passion for a beautiful
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Christian girl reveals a Muslim deep-seated fear of conversion at the hands of Christians, The
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Qurʾan warns Muslims of the danger of Christians (or Jews) as agents of apostasy (Qurʾan 2: 109):
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‘Many of the People of the Scripture long to make you disbelievers after your belief, through
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envy on their own account, after the truth hath become manifest unto them’ (Marmaduke
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William Pickthall (trans.), The Meaning of the Glorious Koran: An Explanatory Translation (London
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and New York: Penguin Meridian, 1997), 42).

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8
In view of the lack of a comprehensive comparative study between ʿAṭṭār’s and Gülsehri’s
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versions, scholars have had only an impressionistic understanding of how the two works differ.
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For instance, Christopher Shackle points out that Gülşehri’s translation follows ʿAṭṭār’s work
in metre and ‘appears to be quite faithful in style, although in places divergent in content’
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(Christopher Shackle, ‘Representations of ʿAṭṭār in the West and in the East: Translations of
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the Manṭiq al-ṭayr and the Tale of Shaykh Ṣanʿān’, in Attar and the Persian Sufi Tradition: The
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Art of Spiritual Flight, ed. Leonard Lewisohn and Christopher Shackle (New York and London:
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I.B. Tauris, in association with The Institute of Ismail Studies, 2006), 176). I am grateful to
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Andrew Peacock for bringing this publication to my attention.

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9
In the absence of dated or datable works and manuscripts, it is difficult to say when Old
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Anatolian Turkish first emerged as a written language. Turkish scholars generally place this
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phenomenon in the thirteenth century, following Mehmed Fuad Köprülü’s claims in his Early
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Mystics in Turkish Literature and other publications. Based on rather tenuous textual evidence of
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several undated works and manuscripts, Mecdut Mansuroğlu advanced Köprülü’s hypothesis
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that there was a rich Turkish literary tradition in the thirteenth century (Mecdut Mansuroğlu,
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‘The Rise and Development of Written Turkish in Anatolia’, Oriens 7, no. 2 [(1954]): 251). See also
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331
circumstances. Composing the Turkish Speech of the Birds in 1317 in the north-
western Cappadocian town of Gülşehir, Gülşehri recasts ʿAṭṭār’s religious
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allegory within an Anatolian, or Rūmī10 context, addressing the concerns of
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the Muslim mystical adept striving for spiritual unity in a land populated by a
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Christian majority. Gülşehri’s Anatolian Turkish rendering of the Speech of the
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Birds thus emphasises the ever present danger of alluring Christian idols in the
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spiritual battle against unbelief in a way not seen in ʿAṭṭār’s original.
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Gülşehri, a Rūmī Poet
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In this highly personalised text, Gülşehri combines the role of narrator of the
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tale of the birds with that of the shaykh in the form of the Hoopoe bird; thus
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the Hoopoe not only represents the alter-ego of the poet-narrator, but also
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takes on the guise of the shaykh who guides wayfarers along the path to divine
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unity, paralleling in the worldly sphere the role of Muḥammad as spiritual
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guide. The merging of the narrator’s voice with that of the Hoopoe/shaykh
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becomes particularly apparent in the second part of the text. Here the Hoopoe
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te.
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the introduction of idem, Ahmet Fakih. Çarhname (Istanbul: İstanbul Üniversitesi Yayınları, 1956);
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idem, ‘Anadolu Türkçesi (XIII. Asır) Şeyyad Hamza’ya Ait Üç Manzume’, Türk Dili ve Edebiyatı
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Dergisi 1, nos. 3–4 (1946), ): 180–95; idem, ‘Anadolu’da Türk Dili ve Edebiyatının İlk Mahsulleri’,
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Türk Dili ve Edebiyatı Dergisi 1, no. 1 (1946), ): 9–25; idem, ‘In Connexion with the Language of
the Şarḥu ‘l-Manār, an Old Anatolian Turkish Manuscript’. Oriens 15 (1962), ): 315–24; Zeynep
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Korkmaz, ‘Selçuklular Çağı Türkçesinin Genel Yapısı’, in idem, Türk Dili Üzerine Araştırmalar I
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(Ankara: Türk Dil Kurumu Yayınları, 1995), 274–86. Recently, in the light of new manuscript
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evidence, Mustafa Koç has revisited this question, claiming that for the first time we can
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ascertain the date of a thirteenth-century Turkish composition. Koç identifies the previously
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unknown author of the Turkish Behcetü’l-hadayık as a certain Fahrüddin ibn Mahmud ibn al-
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Hüseyn el-Tebrizi, who notes in the manuscript in question (Istanbul, Süleymaniye, MS Yazma
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Bağışlar 4040, fol. 133), that he began to compose the work in Karahisar Develü in 669/1270 and
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completed it in 685/1286 (Mustafa Koç, ‘Anadolu’da İlk Türkçe Telif Eser’, Bilig 57 (2011): 164–6).
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Indeed, the question of the emergence of Anatolian Turkish as a literary language needs to be
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completely re-evaluated based on manuscript evidence, solid codicological methods, and in

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the absence of the nationalistic anxieties motivating earlier Turkish scholars.

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10
In regard to their political and cultural identities, fourteenth-century Turcophone
Muslims of medieval Anatolia may be described as Rūmīs, although at present it is impossible to
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identify satisfactorily exactly how this identity was constituted. For more on Rūmī as an identity
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among Turcophone Muslims of Anatolia, see Cemal Kafadar, ‘A Rome of One’s Own: Reflections
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on Cultural Geography and Identity in the Lands of Rum’, Muqarnas 24 (2007): 7–25. For the
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earlier medieval period, in the Muslim context, Stephen R. Humphreys points out that Rūmī was
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used to designate Christians from Anatolia, either Armenian or Greek (Stephen R. Humphreys,
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Islamic History: A Framework for Inquiry (1991; London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 1995), 137). For
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discussions of how this term has evolved and changed, see Demetrius J. Georgacas, The Names
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for the Asia Minor Peninsula and a Register for Surviving Anatolian Pre-Turkish Placenames (Heidelberg:
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Carl Winter Universitatsverlag, 1971), 61–3; and Nikolai Serikoff, ‘Rūmī and Yūnānī: Towards
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the Understanding of the Greek Language in the Medieval Muslim World’, in East and West in the
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Crusader States: Context – Contacts – Confrontations. Acta of the Congress held at Hernen Castle in May
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1993, ed. K. Ciggaar, A. Davids and H. Teule (Leuven: Peeters, 1996), 169–94.

instructs the birds through dialogue in the form of questions and answers,
the content of which is original to Gülşehri’s text.11 Furthermore, Gülşehri’s
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Hoopoe and the bird murīds are clearly Rūmī, or Anatolian, residents. When a
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bird asks the Hoopoe about the necessity of leaving behind one’s family and
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loved ones when one embarks on the mystical path, the Hoopoe answers that,
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even if he were padişah, he would abandon his rulership and depart Rūm for
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Mount Qāf (Rum ilinden kuh-ı Kaf ’a gideyem).12
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Let us briefly digress with a particular idiosyncrasy of Gülşehri’s mathnawi –
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his abundant use of his poetic pen-name. Through constant reference to himself,
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Gülşehri establishes an authorial presence throughout the text, coupled with
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the claim of being a shaykh of the highest station along the spiritual path. Not
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only does the poet identify himself as author at the beginning of his work:
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As for the rest, Gülşehri put the words together
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And thus the Mantıku’t-Tayr (Speech of the Birds) came into being.13
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But, in fact, Gülşehri ends every section of his work with a self-reflective
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couplet or two containing his penname, often boasting of his poetic skills and
mystical gifts:
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Is there anything sweeter on earth like justice?

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Is there in the world any name like Gülşehri?14

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Who is superior to Gülşehri – who could be?

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[For he is] the seal of those illustrious strivers on the path.15

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The historical identity of the early fourteenth-century Anatolian Sufi poet

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known by the pen-name of Gülşehri nevertheless has long eluded scholars. The
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poet’s actual name has even been subject to dispute.16 Likewise speculative are
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11
Franz Taeschner selectively studies several chapters from the second half of Gülşehri’s
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Speech of the Birds in his Gülscherîs Mesnevi auf Achi Evran, den Heiligen von Kırschehir und Patron der
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türkische Zünfte (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1955), esp. 49–66. Among the topics of discussion
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in the second part of the text are: aşkbazi (meditation through gazing at exemplary beauty),
maşuk, knowledge, justice, slander and falsehood, the Enlightened Knower/Knowing One (arif),
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what a shayh is, adab-i tarikat (guide to the behaviour of the one on the Sufi path), futuwwa, God’s
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forgiveness of sins, the taming of the nefs, anger, loyalty, wisdom, şeria, tarikat, and hakikat. For
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a survey of the text see Selim S. Kuru, ‘Gülşehri, the Seventh Sheikh of the Universe: Authorly
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Passions in Fourteenth Century Anatolia’, Journal of Turkish Studies 40 (2013): 279–87.

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12
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 560, line 3782.
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13
Ibid., line 17: Girü Gülşehri sözi saz eyledi / Mantıku’t-Tayr’ı hoş agaz eyledi.
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14
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 394, line 2651: Tatlulık gibi cihanda dad mı var/ Dünyada
Gülşehri gibi ad mı var?
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15
Ibid., line 4362: Kim ola Gülşehri’den yig kim ola / Namdar erenlerüñ hatmı ola.
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16
Although Mehmed Fuad Köprülü, drawing on evidence from a manuscript of the
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Mantıku’t-Tayr (Istanbul, Archaeology Museum MS 1360), believed that his name was Ahmed,
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Franz Taeschner argued it was Süleyman, citing the frequent mention of the name Süleyman
in Gülşehri’s Mantıku’t-Tayr, and pointing to the existence of a türbe (mausoleum) in Kırşehir
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Gülşehri’s supposed Mevlevi associations.17 Whatever his actual identity may
have been, clearly the poet was a Sufi shaykh, as internal evidence of his Speech of
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the Birds indicates.18 His chosen pen-name Gülşehri19 likewise draws attention to
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his regional identity as a poet from the town of Gülşehir. The town of Gülşehir was
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located in the north-western corner of Cappadocia, lying in between the larger
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towns of Hacıbektaş to the north and Nevşehir to the south, on the south bank
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of the Kızılırmak River (Halys) at an important crossing of the river along a well-
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travelled Roman road. During the Seljuq and Ottoman periods, this region was
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part of the province of Kırşehir; today, however, the village is administratively
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tied to the Cappadocian province of Nevşehir.20
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Lying between the two important Seljuq centres of Aksaray and Kayseri in
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central Anatolia, Cappadocia retained its centrality during the period of Mongol
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domination of the Seljuq realm. The winter grazing lands of the Mongol generals
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based in Anatolia were centred in the north-western Cappadocian steppe along
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the rivers of the province of Kırşehir. Some of the best pastoral lands in the region
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were found in the valley of the Delice River (Kanak Suyu, or Kappadox River), an
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important branch of the Kızılırmak (Halys River).21 To the south and south-west
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were Christian communities with their rock-hewn churches interspersed and
mixed with Muslim settlements.
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Experiencing its heyday during the late-Seljuq and Ilkhanid period between
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c.1240–1340, the city of Kırşehir (Mokissos) and its vicinity developed into an
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important mystical-religious centre.22 The presence of diverse Sufi orders

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and groups such as the Mevlevis, Bektashis, Babaʾis, and the Kalenderis in the
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city and outlying villages led to a dynamic and competitive atmosphere of

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constructed in the name of a likewise unidentified Şeyh Süleyman (Mustafa Özkan, ‘Gülşehri’,
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TDVİA 14 (1996): 250; Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Merhan, 30).

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17
The bookseller and bibliophile Raif Yelkenci (1894–1974) identified Gülşehri with
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Şeyh Süleyman-i Türkmani, a disciple of Sulṭān Walad sent to Kırşehir in 1297 to establish a
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Mevlevi dervish lodge. Subsequent scholars, however, have dismissed this attribution to Şeyh
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Süleyman-i Türkmani, for he died in 710/1310, and thus could not have written the Mantıku’t-
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Tayr, a work completed in 1317. In the light of no direct proof that he was a Mevlevi, the
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literary historian Mustafa Özkan opens up a new line of speculation by claiming that it was
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more probable that Gülşehri was a disciple of Akhī Evren (or Evrān) (Özkan, ‘Gülşehri’, 250).
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18
Later Anatolian and Ottoman authors such as Ahmedi, Hatiboğlu and Kemal Ümmi
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refer to Gülşehri as a prominent shaykh at the head of a zāwiya with many followers in the
Cappadocian town of Gülşehir (Özkan, ‘Gülşehri’, 250).
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19
In addition to his Turkish Mantıku’t-Tayr, Gülşehri composed works in Persian, such
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as his Falak-nāma (1301) and ‘Arūż-i Gulshahrī. A Turkish Keramat-i Ahi Evran has likewise been
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attributed to him; however, the authorship of this is disputed.

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20
Zoropassos is identified with the Koropassos of Strabo. Zoropassos was known as
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Yarapsun or Arapsun in the late nineteenth century (William Mitchell Ramsay, ‘Unedited
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Inscriptions of Asia Minor’, Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 7 (1883): 323). For reference to
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the crossing of the Halys at Zoropassos, see J.B. Bury, ‘Mutasim’s March through Cappadocia
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in A.D. 838’, The Journal of Hellenic Studies 29 (1909): 123, 128, 129; Nicholas Adontz, Armenia in
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the Period of Justinian: The Political Conditions Based on the Naxarar System, trans. Nina G. Garsoïan
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(Lisbon: Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, 1970), 60.

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21
Today it forms a natural border between the modern provinces of Yozgat and Kırşehir.
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22
Franz Taeschner, ‘Ḳırshehir’, EI2.

mystical practice and learning. The region has been referred to as the ‘Kaʿaba
of Bektashism’ (Bektaşiliğin kabesi) and the ‘qibla of the akhīs.’23 Indeed, it does
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appear that akhī groups, the most famous being the community associated
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with the semi-legendary Akhī Evren (alternatively, Ewrān or Evran),24 played an
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important role in the dynamic religious life of Kırşehir. One manifestation of this
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religious dynamism was the production of Turkish vernacular Sufi texts aimed at
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popular audiences. Some of the earliest examples of literary Anatolian Turkish
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are found among this corpus, the most celebrated being Aşık Paşa’s Garib-name,
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a work composed in 1335.
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Gülşehri’s Warnings against Idol Worship in the Legend of the Sīmurgh
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Gülşehri’s Manṭiḳu’ṭ-ṭayr, as an adaptation of Farīd al-Dīn Muḥammad al-
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ʿAṭṭār’s Persian mystical mathnawi, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, is a religious allegory framed
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around the tale of the quest of the mythical Sīmurgh (phoenix), symbolic of
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the Deity/Truth, interspersed with didactic anecdotes and stories and replete
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with allusions to the Qurʾan, ḥadīth and Sufi traditions.25 As with ʿAṭṭar’s work,
Gülşehri’s Turkish adaptation tells the story of the soul’s journey to its origins
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and union with its Creator, with the soul represented by birds of various species,
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and the Creator by the mythical bird, Sīmurgh.

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One can trace the metaphorical use of birds for man’s soul in Islamic
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philosophical and mystical literature to the early eleventh century. ʿAṭṭār’s

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Manṭiq al-Ṭayr has been described as a ‘grandiose poetic elaboration’ of Aḥmad

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al-Ghazālī’s (d. 1126) Risālat al-Ṭayr (‘Epistle of the Birds, or Spiritual Flight’),26
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which in turn draws on Ibn Sīnā’s (d. 1037) Risālat al-Ṭayr.27 The title Manṭiq al-
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23
Cevat Hakkı Tarım, Kırşehir Tarihi Üzerine Araştırmalar, vol. 1 (Kırşehir: Kırşehir Vilāyet
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Matbaası, 1938), 7. The relationship between the large numbers of Christian communities in
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this part of Cappadocia with the establishment of the centre of Bektashism, with its so-called
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Christian-influenced rituals, at Kırşehir just to the north deserves further investigation.

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Akhī Evren, came to Kırşehir where he established a dabbagh-khāna (slaughterhouse)

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24
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and zāwiye. He was later supposedly killed by Nūr al-Dīn ibn Jājā, the Seljuq commander of
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Kırşehir, in 1261. Ottoman records tell us that there were 28 malikane-status (mixed timar-
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vakıf) villages in the vicinity of Kırşehir endowed to the Akhī Evren zāwiye (M. Akif Erdoğru,
‘Anadolu’da Ahiler ve Ahi Zaviyeleri’, Türk Dünyası İncelemeleri Dergisi 4 (2000): 47).
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25
Fatemeh Keshavarz, ‘Sewn Together with the Thread of the Sun: Religion and Literature
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as a Discipline’, Religion and Literature 41, no. 2 (2009): 38; B. Reinert, ‘al-ʿAṭṭār Farīd al-Dīn
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Muḥammad’, EIr; Dick Davis, ‘The Journey as Paradigm: Literal and Metaphorical Travel
sh
in ʿAṭṭār’s Manṭiq al-Ṭayr’, Edebiyāt 4, no. 2 (1993): 173; John Andrew Boyle, ‘The Religious
w.a
‘Mathnavīs’ of Farīd al-Dīn Aṭṭār’, Iran 17 (1979): 9.

ww
26
Helmut Ritter, ‘ʿAṭṭār, Farīd al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm’, EI2.
m
27
Ibn Sīnā’s works in his mystical trilogy dealing with the soul’s return to its origins, the
co
Recital of Ḥayy ibn Yaqẓān, Recital of the Bird, and Recital of Salāmān and Absāl, served as models for
te.
later authors. His Recital of the Bird (Risāla al-Ṭayr) introduces the metaphor of the bird for the
ga
sh
soul (Firoozeh Papan-Matin, Beyond Death: The Mystical Teachings of ʿAyn al-Quḍāt al-Hamadhānī
w.a
(Leiden: Brill, 2010), 53, 61–6). For more on these works by Ibn Sīnā, see Henry Corbin, Avicenna
ww
and the Visionary Recital, trans. Willard R. Trask (New York: Pantheon Books, 1960), and William
335
Ṭayr is based on the Qurʾanic phrase manṭiq al-ṭayr (sura 27: 16), which refers
to the Prophet Solomon’s ability to understand the speech of birds, a faculty
m
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metaphorically understood as Solomon having been graced by God with special
te.
ga
esoteric knowledge.28 The original frame story involves a group of birds who
sh
express a desire to seek out their legendary king, Sīmurgh. With the Hoopoe
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as their leader, the same bird who guided King Solomon across the desert to
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Bilqīs, the Queen of Sheba of the Yemen,29 the birds undergo an arduous journey
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through seven valleys, representative of the seven stages of mystical awakening.30
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te.
Only 30 birds, however, manage to make it to Sīmurgh’s abode, the final mystical
ga
stage of annihilation in God. Although they do not actually find Sīmurgh, ‘they
sh
feel themselves immersed in an indescribable presence’, as they become united
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with the Divine One.31 Through the allegory of the birds’ journey to Sīmurgh,
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ʿAṭṭār’s Manṭiq al-Ṭayr demonstrates how purification through renunciation
m
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of all worldly possessions and ties leads to mystical union with God, releasing
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the soul from its earth-bound body and allowing its return to its source in the
ga
divine realm.32
sh
w.a
In his version of this religious allegory, Gülşehri retains ʿAṭṭār’s notions
ww
of the soul and its journey to the divine source, as can be seen in the opening
lines: ‘The merciful and all-knowing God (karim and alim), created the world
m
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first, and then man from His own divine light (nur).ʼ The author exhorts man
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not to remain apart from the Creator, nor to depart from the path to him, for
ga
sh
‘it is a shame to forget your origins: don’t you wonder where you were before
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this transitory life of a few years?’33 The goal of the spiritual aspirant should be
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breaking lose the bonds of the material worldly existence so that one’s soul may
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return to its original state: ‘Our souls are descended from the heavens – how can
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those [souls] which stay on the earth return to the heavens?34 Gülşehri notes that
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it is in Heaven where one achieves unity with the Divinity in contrast to ‘Hell,
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the furthest point from God’.35 Sīmurgh, the metaphor for God, is cast as the
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monarch (padişah) of all the birds.

ww
m
co
E. Gohlman (trans.), Avicenna: The Life of Ibn Sina. A Critical Edition and Annotated Translation (New
te.
York: State University of New York Press, 1974), esp. 57–63. Later works referring to the bird
ga
sh
metaphor of the soul include Abū’l-Rijāʾ al-Jājī’s (d. 1122), Rawḍat al-Fariqayn, ʿAyn al-Quḍāt
w.a
al-Hamadānī’s Tamhīdāt (d. 1131), Shihāb al-Dīn al-Suhrawardī’s (d. 1191) Ṣafīr-i Sīmurgh, Najm
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al-Dīn al-Rāzī Dāya’s (d. 1256) Risālat al-Ṭuyūr, and ʿIzz al-Dīn Maqdīsī’s (d. 1280), Kashf al-Asrār
ʿan Ḥikam al-Ṭuyūr wa’l-Ashjar (ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī, 29–36).
m
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28
Boyle, ‘The Religious “Mathnavīs”’, 9–10.
te.
29
Ibid., 10. Solomon’s Hoopoe Yaʿfūr had the special ability to locate underground water
ga
sources in the desert. See Abū Isḥāq Aḥmad al-Thaʿlabī, ʿArā’is al-majālis fī qiṣaṣ al-anbiyā’ as
sh
Recounted by Abu Isḥāq Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Ibrāhīm al-Thaʿlabī, trans. William M. Brinner
w.a
(Leiden, Boston and Cologne: Brill, 2002), 519 ff.

ww
30
Boyle, ‘The Religious “Mathnavīs”’, 10.
m
31
Fatemeh Keshavarz, ‘Sewn Together with the Thread of the Sun: Religion and Literature
co
as a Discipline’, Religion and Literature 41, no. 2 (2009): 38.

te.
32
B. Reinert, ‘al-ʿAṭṭār Farīd al-Dīn Muḥammad’, EIr.
ga
sh
33
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 2, lines 7–8.
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34
Ibid., 2, line 9.
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35
Ibid., 2, line 11.

Yet, the perilous journey to Sīmurgh residing at the distant Qāf mountain
cannot be undertaken on one’s own: one needs a guide, the Hoopoe (hudhud;
m
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Turkish hüdhüd).36 Gülşehri often reminds his audience of the importance
te.
ga
of a guide on the mystical quest for unity, primarily through the voice of the
sh
Hoopoe, who serves as shaykh to his bird murīds who have agreed to venture
w.a
on the spiritual journey together. Indeed, Gülşehri merges his own persona of
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poet-narrator with that of the hoopoe – his metaphorical alter-ego. Thus, in
m
emphasising the importance of spiritual guidance, Gülşehri/Hoopoe repeats to
co
te.
the birds throughout the text that if they attempt to reach the true Lord without
ga
his help, they will fail, for they will inevitably mistake a lesser lord (beg) dressed
sh
in silk and mounted on a horse for the true Lord (padişah):
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I’ll show you who the Sultan is amongst the begs
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For it is I who will recognise Him.37
te.
ga
Kufr, or unbelief, occurs when God’s Oneness goes unrecognised or is obscured
sh
w.a
and His multiple attributes are worshipped separately as idols. The emphasis
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of the twin themes of idol worship and unbelief in Gülşehri’s adaptation of
the Speech of the Birds becomes apparent in his choice of verse as well as the
m
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selection and placement of illustrative stories and parables, resulting in a work

te.
substantially different from ʿAṭṭār’s original. With the legend of the mythical
ga
sh
bird Sīmurgh, placed immediately after the prologue meditating on God’s unity
w.a
of being,38 Gülşehri explains how this mythical bird symbolises God’s creation
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of His creatures as a manifestation of the incarnation of souls. Derived from

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the Persian sī murgh, ‘thirty birds’, Sīmurgh represents the notion of 30 birds
co
te.
united with the Godhead. Sīmurgh appeared to the world when, suddenly one
ga
night, he radiantly passed over a city in China.39 ʿAṭṭār’s description of Sīmurgh’s

sh
appearance in the world emphasises His unveiling of Himself to the world, which
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ʿAṭṭār interprets as a metaphor for creation: ‘All these traces of creation originate
ww
from His kingly glory, all souls from the markings of His feather.’40 In contrast,
m
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Gülşehri reworks the legend to demonstrate how, from this momentous cosmic
te.
ga
sh
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36
Ibid., 2, lines 11–12; 4, lines 15–16.
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37
Ibid., lines 1572–1575: Begler ortasında size sultan / Gösterem zira ki bilürem anı.
38
Ibid., 4–8, lines 18–42.
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A comparison of the texts reveals Gülşehri’s very similar wording: Bir gece Çin şehri
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39
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üstinden meger / Nagehan Simurg geçdi cilveger (Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 4, line 18)
ga
with that of ʿAṭṭār’s phrasing: Ibtidā-yi kār-i Sīmurgh ay ajab! / Jilvahgār bi-guzasht bar Chīn
sh
nīmshab (ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī, 108).

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40
Helmut Ritter translates ʿAṭṭār’s verses as: ‘One time the Sīmurgh cast off a feather
ww
in China and thereby unleashed confusion in all countries. Everyone formed an image of
m
this feather. Everyone who saw the image began another action. The feather is kept today
co
in China. That’s why one should seek knowledge even in China. If the image of this feather
te.
hadn’t become public, there wouldn’t be all this noise and strife in the world. All these traces
ga
sh
of creation originate from His kingly glory, all souls from the markings of His feather’ (Helmut
w.a
Ritter, The Ocean of the Soul: Men, the World and God in the Stories of Farid al-Din Attar, trans. John
ww
O’Kane (Leiden and Boston, MA: Brill, 2003), 627).

337
event, kufr first appeared among people lacking knowledge about the truth of
God’s unity. As the legend goes, one night in China, when Sīmurgh first appeared
m
co
in the world and was spotted soaring in the skies, one of his feathers floated
te.
ga
to earth. Different groups of people abandoned their original religion and took
sh
to worshipping the beautiful images (nakş) found on that magnificent feather.41
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Gülşehri recounts how the worship of different idols (put) arose among different
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groups, each choosing different images to hold sacred:
m
co
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One worshipped an idol saying ‘it is my Beloved Lord’,
ga
Another a cross, saying ‘it is my Purpose’.42
sh
w.a
Gülşehri’s reshaping of the legend of Sīmurgh depicts the origins of idol worship
ww
as a response to Sīmurgh’s appearance in the world, when he left the trace of one
m
co
of his feathers. Out of ignorance, people began to selectively worship different
te.
signs or decorations on the feather rather than seeing them for what they
ga
were: mere fragments of His being. Gülşehri thus defines an infidel: ‘He who
sh
w.a
worships an idol on one of the feathers [of Sīmurgh] is an infidel’ (Bir kanat nakşın
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tapan kafır-durur).43
Gülşehri’s concludes his account of the legend of Sīmurgh with a warning
m
co
to his audience about the worship of idols, the deceptive outward forms of
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the fragmented being of the Divine. Only Muslims, i.e., true believers (mümin),
ga
sh
recognised Sīmurgh in his entirety and true full being:

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Whereas the believer/faithful one believes in the bird’s unity/oneness

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The infidel assumes that the bird is an image on the feather44

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Don’t be deceived by the image on a feather

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Don’t confuse the bird for its feather.45

sh
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Don’t be the lover of thousands of different images from one [mere] feather
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Of that which has 100,000 more feathers.46

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Believers are thus distinguished from unbelievers for having refrained from
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worshipping one of Sīmurgh’s thousands of different feathers in their various

ga
manifestations. Muslims alone are able to discern the divine whole.47

sh
w.a
While bringing to the fore the relationship between idol worship and the
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appearance of Sīmurgh in the beginning of the text, Gülşehri nevertheless

presents the creativist aspect of Sīmurgh’s very initial appearance, as
m
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emphasised by ʿAṭṭār, much later in the text when further edifying the birds
te.
ga
sh
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41
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42
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Merhan, 151 line 24: Biri puta tapdı mabudum didi / Biri haça
m
tapdı maksudum didi. Cf. the Yavuz edition, 4, line 24: Biri haça halk-ı maksudum didi.
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43
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 6, line 12.
te.
44
Ibid., 6, line 29: Mümin ol kuş birliğine inanur / Kafir ol kuşı kanat nakşın sanur.
ga
sh
45
Ibid., 6, line 31: Bir kanaduñ nakşına aldanmagıl / Ol kuşı ol bir kanadı sanmagıl.
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46
Ibid., 6, line 37: Bir kanatdan olmagıl biñ nakşa yar / Kim anuñ yüz biñ kanadı dahı var.
ww
47
Ibid., 34, line 232.

on their relationship to Sīmurgh, their Creator, in one of the many question
answer sessions:
m
co
te.
ga
When Sīmurgh flew felicitously over the world,
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And opened his wings auspiciously down to the earth.48
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Sīmurgh’s shadow fell upon the world;
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That shadow was the world’s source.49
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All birds took on form thanks to that shadow.
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They likewise arose from that source.50
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sh
Gülşehri’s rearrangement of the legend of Sīmurgh in his Speech of the Birds
w.a
presents a striking example of how his emphasis on kufr leads to the reshaping
ww
and modification of ʿAṭṭār’s material. Now let us look at how Gülşehri inserts new
m
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material into his text out of the similar thematic considerations regarding idol-
te.
worshippers.
ga
sh
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ww
The Prophet Muḥammad and Ṣafwān’s Conversion to Islam51
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Of the 30 different anecdotes, tales and parables included in his work, Gülşehri
te.
only makes use of only seven from ʿAṭṭār’s Speech of the Birds, thus presenting
ga
sh
a considerably different corpus of illustrative stories.52 Thus, rather than

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reproduce ʿAṭṭār’s set of stories, Gülşehri borrows from a variety of sources

ww
including Jalāl al-Dīn Rūmī’s Mathnawī-yi Maʿnawī53 and Kalīla and Dimna.54 One
m
story original to Gülşehri’s Speech of the Birds is that of the Prophet Muḥammad
co
te.
ga
sh
w.a
Ibid., 226, line 1526: Çün cihan üstine Simurg uçdı hoş / Aleme kanatlarını açdı haş.
48
ww
Ibid., line 1527: Düşdi Simurguñ cihana sayesi / Alemüñ ol sayedür sermayesi.
49
m
50
Ibid., line 1529: Kamu kuşlar sūreti ol sayeden / Hasıl oldı vü hem ol sermayeden.
co
51
Ibid., lines 78–241.
te.
Kemal Yavuz, ‘Çeşitli Yönleri İle Mantıku’t-Tayr ve Garib-nāme Mesnevileri’, Türk Dili ve
ga
52
sh
Edebiyatı Dergisi 31 (2004): 348; Vesile Albayrak Sak, ‘Eski Türk Edebiyatında Tercüme Geleneği
w.a
ve bu Gelenekte Mantıku’t-Tayr Tercümeleri’, Turkish Studies 7, no. 4 (2012): 658–9 (655–69).

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Gülşehri makes use of a total of 30 anecdotes, whereas ʿAṭṭār’s work contains around 180.
Gülşehri took the following stories from ʿAṭṭār: (1) the Prophet’s intercession with God on
m
co
behalf of the umma (2) Sultan Maḥmūd (of Ghazna) and his slave, Ayas (3) Şeyh Abdürrezzak
te.
(equivalent to Shaykh Ṣanʿān) (4) The governor (vali) and Hızır (5) The legendary bird called
ga
the kaknus (6) The lover who notices the white of his beloved’s eye (7) The moth and the candle.
sh
Gülşehri also reduces the number of specific birds engaging in dialogue with the Hoopoe to
w.a
eight, as opposed to ʿAṭṭār’s 10 birds, and substitutes different birds for some of ʿAṭṭārs’.
ww
In Gülşehri's text, the following birds present the Hoopoe with excuses for not joining the
m
spiritual journey: the nightingale (bülbül), parrot (tuti), peacock (tavus), phoenix (hüma), goose
co
(bat), white falcon (şahbaz), partridge (kebk), and owl (bum).

te.
53
Sak, ‘Eski Türk Edebiyatında Tercüme Geleneği’, 658–9.
ga
sh
54
Berrin Uyar Akalın, ‘The Poets Who Wrote and Translated Mantiku’t Tayr in Turkish
w.a
Literature’, International Journal of Central Asian Studies (Prof. Dr. Mustafa Canpolat Armağanı) 10,
ww
no. 1 (2005): 171.

339
and the Qurayshī leader, Ṣafwān, a rather late Meccan convert to Islam.55 The
story of Ṣafwān ibn Umayyad, one of the Prophet Muḥammad’s most difficult
m
co
conversions, is recounted in the second longest anecdote in Gülşehri’s work, and
te.
ga
precedes the work’s longest story, the Shaykh of Ṣanʿān. The story appears at the
sh
beginning of the work, immediately after the first 18 introductory lines of the
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prologue, embedded in the praise for the prophet section (Dastan-ı Muhammed
ww
Mustafa Aleyhi’s-Selatu ve’s-Selam).56 Gülşehri’s account of Ṣafwān appears to be an
m
expansion of one line in ʿAṭṭār’s work in the section praising Muḥammad (Dar
co
te.
naʿ‘t-i Rasūl)57 to which the Prophet’s mission in destroying the idols of Mecca is
ga
obliquely referred.58 Gülşehri’s account of Ṣafwān begins with a description of
sh
Muḥammad’s cleansing of Mecca and the Kaʿaba of idols and idol worship:
w.a
ww
All these idols should be destroyed;
m
co
They should be gathered up and sold to the ironsmith.59
te.
The heads of the idol-worshippers should be cut off,
ga
sh
With their idols hanging from their necks.60
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We’ll befriend the believer in faith,
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We’ll cleanse the Kaʿaba of idols.61
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The people of Mecca defended their paganism against Muḥammad’s attempt to

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cleanse Mecca of idols, declaring that they were not the only people worshipping
ga
sh
idols, and pointing out that the entire world worships the images of idols: ‘Kamu
w.a
alemdür putuñ nakşın öpen’.62 Gülşehri then introduces Ṣafwān, a ruler (beg) of the
ww
outlying desert around Mecca, a man of noble lineage and bearing, and a leader
m
who faithfully served his people. Refusing to forsake their idols, the people of
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Mecca complained to Ṣafwān about Muḥammad.63 Ṣafwān became incensed when

ga
he learned of Muḥammad’s assault on the religious traditions of the Meccan

sh
cults. Accompanied by his supplicants, he set out for Mecca, vowing to split
w.a
Muḥammad in half with his sword (Kılıç-ıla anı iki böleyim).64 Arriving in the city,
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Ṣafwān inquired about the young man (oğlan) ‘who spit out fire instead of words
m
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when he opened his mouth’ and the ‘one who hurls insults on the gods Hubel,
te.
ga
sh
55
This Ṣafwān can be identified with the historical Qurayshī leader, Ṣafwān ibn Umayya
w.a
ibn Khalaf of Jumaḥ (W. Montgomery Watt, Muḥammad at Medina (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
ww
1956), 19; A. Guillaume, The Life of Muḥammad: A Translation of Isḥāq’s Sīrat Rasūl Allāh (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1955), 318).
m
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56
te.
57
ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī, 89, lines 265–408. This section is immediately
ga
followed by praise for each of the first four caliphs, which is absent in Gülşehri’s work.
sh
58
Ibid., 91, line 330: biʾthat-i ū sar nigūnī-yi butān (‘His mission was that of overturning the
w.a
idols’).
ww
59
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 14, line 85: Bu kamu bütleri uşatmak gerek / İltüben
m
demürçiye satmak gerek.

co
60
Ibid., line 87: Büt-perestüñ başını kesmek gerek / Kendü bütin boynına asmak gerek.
te.
61
Ibid., line 88: Mümini imanda yar idiserüz / Kaabe-yi bütlerden arıdısaruz.
ga
sh
62
Ibid., 18, lines 115–18.
w.a
63
Ibid., 18–20, lines 118–30.
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64

Manāt, Lāt and ʿUzzā’.65 He was told that Muḥammad was a master of witchcraft
(cadulıg) and magic (sihir), no more than a penniless beggar (geda) dressed in
m
co
rags and with nothing to eat.66 Having abandoned the visible gods, Muḥammad
te.
ga
worshipped an invisible God (Bu görinür tañrıları kim koya / Vara görmedügi
sh
Tañrı’ya uya).67 Thus expecting to find a beggar, when Ṣafwān spied the Prophet
w.a
at a graveyard, he was immediately struck by Muḥammad’s majestic appearance:
ww
‘I have not seen a man like this; I have not run across the likes of such a man’ (‘Ben
m
bunuñ şeklinde adem görmedüm / Buña beñzer ademiye irmedüm.’).68 As if burned by
co
te.
the fire in Muḥammad’s eyes, Ṣafwān became enraptured by the Prophet, and
ga
there and then understood that Muḥammad was not a magician casting spells
sh
but the true Prophet.69 Gülşehri has Ṣafwān admit that out of ignorance he had
w.a
erred by attempting to hunt down the Prophet. He however realised that it was
ww
he who was the ‘prey’.70 The story climaxes with Ṣafwān prostrating himself
m
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before Muḥammad and declaring his belief in him and his religion.71 Muḥammad
te.
then orders Ṣafwān back to his own land where he was to spread the faith and to
ga
lead the holy war against the infidels (Sen olısarsın gaza sazın düze / Var ilünde ehl-i
sh
w.a
iman olisar).72 Gülşehri concludes the story with spiritual advice:
ww
m
Whichever path the intelligent one chooses to take,

co
There is no better companion on the way than Muḥammad.73

te.
ga
sh
Gülşehri’s story of Ṣafwān, which concludes with the Qurayshī chief ’s mission
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of jihad in the name of Muḥammad against the infidels in order to expand the
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Dar al-Islām, must have resonated with a Muslim Rūmī, or Anatolian, audience.
m
Indeed, Gülşehri’s composition of this work is contemporary to the ongoing

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te.
expansion of the Dār al-Islām into Byzantine-held lands under the Turks.
ga
sh
w.a
The Tale of Shaykh Ṣanʿān: Battling the Kufr of the Beloved

ww
m
co
The tale of Shaykh Ṣanʿān, one of the seven anecdotes Gülşehri adapted from
te.
ʿAṭṭār, is a pivotal story placed strategically in the narrative, put in the mouth of
ga
the Hoopoe to motivate the birds to embark on the mystical journey. This story is
sh
w.a
also of exceptional length, comprising nearly one-tenth of the entire narrative,

ww
with 409 couplets in ʿAṭṭār’s work, and 371 couplets in Gülşehri’s, making it the
longest anecdote in both versions of the Speech of the Birds.74 Gülşehri calls ʿAṭṭār’s
m
co
te.
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65
Ibid., line 121.
sh
66
Ibid., 20, lines 122–36; 30, line 204.
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67
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68
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69
Ibid., 24–6, lines 157–63.
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70
Ibid., 32, lines 210–16.
te.
71
Ibid., line 217.
ga
sh
72
w.a
73
Ibid., line 321: Ne yola vara aceb akıl kişi / Kim Muhammed’den yig ola yoldaşı.
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74
Shackle, ‘Representations of ʿAṭṭār in the West and in the East’, 165.
341
Shaykh Ṣanʿān Şeyh Abdürrezzak: both names refer to the historical figure, ʿAbd
al-Razzāq al-Ṣanʿānī.
m
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Although clearly drawing on ʿAṭṭār’s work in his rendering of the story of
te.
ga
Shaykh Ṣanʿān, sometimes word for word from the Persian original, Gülşehri
sh
claims to be retelling a story (dasitan) that had been previously badly composed
w.a
in Turkish in a very confused manner (key çepürdük),75 with faulty metre and
ww
broken grammar.76 Since the story, however, was beautiful in essence, the less
m
than competent poetic form in which it had been cast did it no justice. As Gülşehri
co
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puts it, this clumsy Turkish composition was like a heavenly beauty (hüri)
ga
dressed in old rags, or a moon-like beauty donning goat-hair rather than silks.77
sh
Gülşehri boasts of having now dressed this moon-like beauty in newly tailored
w.a
clothes suitable for a lady of high station.78 Thus transformed, explains Gülşehri,
ww
the story could be appreciated by scholars, now that it properly commemorated
m
co
the power of God and celebrated the Prophet, and in such a colourful and sweet
te.
way that you would think it was the story of Khusraw and Shīrīn.79 Gülşehri thus
ga
boasts that not only does he provide mystical edification, but he does so with
sh
w.a
elegance, boldly comparing himself to the master Persian poet, Niẓāmī of Ganja.80
ww
Gülşehri’s predecessor, the author of the poorly composed Turkish version of
the story of Şeyh Abdürrezzak, remains unidentifiable.81 Yet, Gülşehri’s critique
m
co
te.
ga
sh
75
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 110, line 748: İlla lafzın key çepürdük söylemiş
w.a
(‘Someone told this story, but made the words very complicated’). I have corrected çöpürdek
ww
in Yavuz’s edition (there is no such word documented in Old Anatolian Turkish) to çepürdük,
or alternatively çipürdük, or çıpurduk meaning ‘confused’ (Türk Dil Kurumu, Tarama Sözlüğü,
m
co
vol. 2, 2nd edn (Ankara: Ankara Üniversitesi Basımevi, 1996), 859). See also Köprülü’s analysis
te.
of this section (Köprülü, Early Mystics in Turkish Literature, 251–2 n. 77).

ga
76
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 112, line 750: Vezn-içün lafzuñ gidermiş harfini (He left
sh
out letters for the sake of the metre).

w.a
77
Ibid., 110, line 749: Eski bezden hürriye ton eylemiş / Bir keçeden aya pilven eylemiş.
ww
78
Ibid., 112, line 751: Şimdi Gülşehri geyürdi bu aya / Lefkari tonlar ki benzetdi baya.
m
79
Ibid., 112, lines 753–5.
co
80
Niẓāmī of Ganja wrote Khusraw u Shīrīn, the second work of his Khamsa, in the name
te.
of Sultan Tughril ibn Arslan (1177–1194) in between the years 1180/81–1191. See Jerome
ga
sh
W. Clinton and Kamron Talattof (eds), Nizami Ganjavi: His Time, His Life, and His Poetry (St.
w.a
Martin’s Press, 2000).

ww
81
Aziz Merhan identifies and provides a transliterated edition of one such alternative
early Turkish versions of the story of Şeyh Abdürrezzak (Aziz Merhan, ‘Şeyh Abdurrezzak
m
co
(Şeyh San’an) Destanının Eski Anadolu Türkçesindeki İlk Çevirisi (Mi?)’, Türkiyat Mecmuası
te.
22 (2012): 123–54). See also Yusuf Babür, ‘Şeyh-i San’ān Kıssasına Dair’, Turkish Studies 8 no.
ga
13 (2013): 511. Merhan proposes that this earlier Turkish account of the legend must have
sh
been the object of Gülşehri’s criticism. The work in question, part of a multiple-work codex
w.a
(Istanbul, Süleymaniye, MS Hacı Mahmud Ef. no. 4311, fols 254b–261a), entitled Dastan eş-Şeyh
ww
Abdürrezzak, exists in manuscript form and consists of 254 couplets. A quick perusal of the text
m
reveals no direct correspondence to either ʿAṭṭār’s or Gülşehri’s versions. Merhan identifies

co
the author/copyist of this version as a certain Ahmedi whom he speculates is to be identified

te.
as Ahmed-i Rumi (c.1271–1349), a Mevlevi poet who composed in Persian. This attribution is
ga
sh
clearly wrong, for upon further inspection it is apparent that manuscript codex in question
w.a
was copied in Antakya by a certain Ahmedi Muhsinoğlu Antaki, who furnishes the date of
ww
939/1532–33 in the second work of the codex (fol. 207). The codex consists of works such as al-

of this earlier Turkish version, as well as his reference to Shaykh Ṣanʿān as Şeyh
Abdürrezzak, does indicate an awareness of alternative accounts of the story and
m
co
a wider circulation of this legend independent of ʿAṭṭār’s work.
te.
ga
The story of Shaykh Ṣanʿān appears to have had a wide following among
sh
medieval Muslims. There is considerable evidence that different versions of the
w.a
story were in circulation before ʿAṭṭār composed his Speech of the Birds. According
ww
to Mujtabā Mīnuwı, ʿAṭṭār took the Shaykh Ṣanʿān tale from al-Ghazālī’s Tuḥfat
m
al-Mulūk. ʿAbdalḥusayn Zarrīnkūb, however, argues that its true source is to be
co
te.
found in Ibn al-Jawzī’s Kitāb Dhamm al-Hawī, which relates how the shaykh ʿAbd
ga
al-Razzāq al-Ṣanʿānī committed the great offense of unbelief by having fallen
sh
in love with a Christian woman. The shaykh later repented and returned to his
w.a
former state.82 Nevertheless, despite the similarity of name and circumstances,
ww
ʿAṭṭār’s Shaykh Ṣanʿān has little to do with the historical figure, ʿAbd al-Razzāq
m
co
ibn Hammām ibn Nāfiʿ al-Ṣanʿānī (744–827). Of Iranian family origins and
te.
the leading scholar of the Yemen of his time, ʿAbd al-Razzāq’s fame attracted
ga
students from all over the Islamic world, including Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal (d. 855).83
sh
w.a
Thus, rather than being a Sufi shaykh with 400 murids from the Ḥaram in Mecca,
ww
ʿAbd al-Razzāq was a renowned traditionalist who became a key figure in the
isnāds of some of the most important Sunni ḥadīth compilations and likewise was
m
co
author of al-Muṣannaf fī’l-Ḥadīth, and Tafsīr al-Qurʾān al-ʿAzīz.84

te.
Although he must have been aware of alternative versions of the widely

ga
sh
circulated story of Shaykh Ṣanʿān, as his use of the name Abdürrezzak indicates,
w.a
Gülşehri nevertheless follows ʿAṭṭār’s version in its basic framework; the

ww
opening lines are almost a word for word translation. As the story progresses,
m
however, Gülşehri modifies it with an emphasis on the theme of kufr and casts
co
te.
it in a particularly Rūmī context: In Gülşehri’s version, the Christian beauty to

ga
whom Şeyh Abdürrezzak loses his heart is not just any Christian girl, but the
sh
daughter of a Christian Rūm ‘sultan’. The Beauty cast as the daughter of a local
w.a
Christian ruler in Anatolia, attainable only after a great struggle, was a common
ww
m
co
te.
ga
sh
w.a
Kisāʾī’s Arabic Qiṣaṣ al-Anbiyāʾ, al-Wāqidī’s Futūḥ al-Shām, likewise in Arabic, followed by a series
ww
of Turkish works, such as an unknown Turkish history of Constantinople (Konstantiniyye) and

Konyalı Hüseyin’s Dastan-i Cümcüme (Legend of the Skull King). Further evaluation of these
m
co
works, and their apocryphal content, would be revealing in the connection between the qiṣaṣ
te.
al-anbiyāʾ genre and stories such as Cümcüme and Abdürrezzak. See also Favziye Abdullah
ga
Tansel, ‘Cümcüme Sultan: Ottoman Translations of the Fourteenth Century Qipchaq Turkish
sh
Story’, Archivum Ottomanicum 2 (1970): 252–69; Michele Bernardini, ‘Solṭan Jomjome et Jesus
w.a
le Paraclet’, in Les traditions apocalyptiques au tournant de la chute de Constantinople, ed. Benjamin

ww
Lellouch and Stéphane Yerasimos (Paris: Harmattan, 1999), 35–53; and Ahmet Yaşar Ocak, Türk
m
folklorunda Kesikbaş: Tarih-Folklor İlişkinden Bir Kesit (1989; Istanbul: Dergah Yayınları, 2013).
co
82
ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī, 52–4.
te.
83
H. Motzki, ‘al-Ṣanʿānī, ʿAbd al-Razzāḳ ibn Hammām ibn Nāfiʿ, Abū Bakr al-Yamanī al-
ga
sh
Ḥimyarī’, EI2.
w.a
84
ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī, 54; Yusuf Babür, ‘Şeyh-i San’ān Kıssasına Dair’,
ww
Turkish Studies 8 no. 13 (2013): 511.

343
literary topos in medieval Anatolia, as the popular Turkish epic the Danişmend-
name attests.85
m
co
Gülşehri begins by describing how, in the city of Ṣanʿān, there was a
te.
ga
great man ‘whose heart was an ocean full of pearls’, a friend of God named
sh
Abdürrezzak, who had spent 50 years at the Kaʿaba as a shaykh. The shaykh
w.a
had 400 disciples and many intimate companions, fellow travellers on the path
ww
to God, all of whom were the very model of ascetic self-denial. In addition to
m
having performed the Pilgrimage 50 times, he was deeply knowledgeable about
co
te.
religious duties and obligations (sunnat ve farz), and his ritual prayer and fasting
ga
had no limits. His esoteric knowledge was as extensive as his exoteric learning.
sh
His illumination was endless, his miracles numerous, his abstinence complete
w.a
and his spiritual station high (maqamat-ı azim). In addition, he could cure people
ww
with his breath; yet, while performing such miracles, he never transgressed into
m
co
unbelief (literally: he remained clean of infidel belief).86 In short, he was a model
te.
Sufi shaykh.
ga
One night, when his heart was full of knowledge (ilm-ile tolu), he had a dream
sh
w.a
in which he travelled from the Ḥaram (of the Kaʿaba in Mecca) to the land of
ww
Rūm where he witnessed himself prostrate before an idol,87 ‘kissing it in such a
way you would think he was worshipping God’.88 Interpreting this dream as a bad
m
co
omen foretelling future hardships and difficulties, and that fitna (disturbances)
te.
were convening around him, he felt as if he had arrived at a dangerously narrow

ga
sh
pass (akabe) along the spiritual journey to which he had devoted his life.89 Feeling
w.a
it was better to sacrifice his life than his faith, his only recourse was to confront
ww
this danger by seeking it out in Rūm and get someone there to interpret the
m
dream (Baña bir iş düsdi gelüñ gidelüm / Rum’a vü bu müşkili hall idelüm / Bize bir Rum
co
te.
iline varmak gerek / Bu düşüñ tabirini sormak gerek’).90 He thus set off on the journey
ga
with his entourage of disciples and companions in tow, enjoying it as a pleasant

sh
excursion through the Anatolian countryside (Rum ilini hoş teferrüc itdiler),91
w.a
oblivious of the sufferings that were in store for him. He thus ‘passed through
ww
every garden and city like a nightingale’,92 and circumambulated the land with
m
co
ease (Rum ilini hoş tavaf eylediler),93 as if he were making a circuit about the Kaʿaba
te.
at Mecca, until finally arriving at the city of the ruler of Rūm (şehr-i kayser).94 It
ga
was there that he laid eyes on a girl of indescribable beauty, the daughter of
sh
w.a
ww
85
The heroine of the Danişmend-name, the Christian beauty Efrumiyye (Efromiya) was
m
co
the daughter of the Christian ruler of Amasya. She converts to Islam after marrying Artuhi,
te.
a Muslim convert in the service of Melik Danişmend (Necati Demir (ed.), Dânişmend-nâme
ga
(Ankara: Akçağ, 2004), 71 ff).

sh
86
w.a
87
ww
88
Ibid., line 334.
m
89
Ibid., lines 335–9; 52, lines 340–43.
co
90
te.
91
Ibid., line 346.
ga
sh
92
Ibid., line 347.
w.a
93
Ibid., line 348.
ww
94
Ibid., line 350.

the Rūm sultan. With the usual litany of poetic conceits, the poet describes her
physical attributes, with her bow-like long and sweeping eyebrows, her ruby
m
co
lips, pearly white teeth and moon-like face so radiant that the sun was dim
te.
ga
in comparison.95 ‘What the Shaykh would not give for that beauty!’ exclaims
sh
Gülşehri. Indeed, ‘whoever was to set eyes on her, would sacrifice his life for
w.a
her’.96 In addition to having a face as beautiful as that of a Turk, the infidel girl
ww
was endowed with spiritual qualities: ‘Although immersed in unbelief (küfr), she
m
was quite pious (ruhani-sıfat) / and well versed in the knowledge of the spirit
co
te.
of God’ (Ruhullah’a yüz marifet)’.97 The poet continues: ‘Even a believer (mümin)
ga
would burn for desire and gird the zünnar of her locks’.98 Setting sight on just a
sh
little of her unbelief would render 100,000 believers into Christians.99 Enflamed
w.a
with passionate desire for the infidel girl, the Shaykh abandoned all reason
ww
and submitted to all of her humiliating demands. He sacrificed his belief for
m
co
her unbelief, and abandoned Islam to become a Christian (‘Terk ider İslam’ı vü
te.
tersa olur’).100
ga
Whereas in ʿAṭṭār’s Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, the Christian beauty’s locks merely drive
sh
w.a
the shaykh mad,101 Gülşehri imparts greater emphasis on the motifs of belief
ww
and unbelief, and conversion and apostasy. In verse replete with the imagery of
Christianity, Gülşehri describes how the shaykh, driven crazy with passion for the
m
co
girls’s seductive locks, descended into the state of unbelief with his conversion:
te.
ga
sh
They baptised the shaykh in the monastery

w.a
And transformed a Muslim into a devil.102

ww
They branded his heart with the fire of unbelief

m
And girded his waist with the belt [of Christianity].103

co
te.
And when the shaykh wrapped the Christian belt around himself
ga
His unbelief became famous throughout town and country.104

sh
w.a
An idol looted his faith;

ww
The hair of unbelief turned him into a Christian.105

m
co
95
Ibid., 52–4, lines 349–55, 363–4.
te.

ga
96
sh
97
Ibid., line 359. Compare with ʿAṭṭār’s version: dukhtarī tarsā wa rūḥānī-ṣifat / dar rah-i
w.a
rū-Allahish ṣad maʿrifat (Frank Lewis’s translation of this couplet: ‘A Christian girl of spiritual
ww
qualities / deeply versed in the knowledge of the way of God’s spirit’ (Franklin Lewis, ‘Sexual
Occidentation: The Politics of Conversion, Christian-love and Boy-love in ‘Attār’, Iranian Studies
m
co
42, no. 5 (2009): 697).

te.
98
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 54, line 362–3. Zünnar (Ar. zunnār) refers to the
ga
distinctive cord-like belt Christians wore as a sumptuary marker in Muslim lands.

sh
99
Ibid., line 362.
w.a
100
Ibid., line 366; 56, lines 371, 379; 60, line 404.
ww
101
ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī, 132, line 1318: Gar bi-zulfam shaykh iqrār āvard
m
/ har damash dīvānagī bār āvard.

co
102
Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Yavuz, 78, line 520: Deyr içinde şeyhi vaftiz itdiler / Bir
te.
Müsülmanı bir iblis itdiler.

ga
sh
103
Ibid., line 521: Küfr odıyla göñlini tagladılar / Bilini zünnar-ıla bagladılar.
w.a
104
Ibid., line 522: Şeyh çün zünnarı bagladı bile / Küfri meşhur oldı şehre vü ile.
ww
105
Ibid., 86, line 583: Bir büt imanını yagma eyledi / Saçı küfri anı tersa eyledi.
345
In this involuntary state of madness, the Shaykh did a thing unimaginable for a
m
co
Muslim: not only did he burn his Sufi cloak, but he also put to flame the sacred
te.
ga
pages of the Qurʾan (Hırkasın yandurdı vü dinin kodı Mushaf’ın dahı köyindürdi odı).106
sh
Aware of the perfidy of these acts, yet unable to prevent himself from committing
w.a
them, the shaykh laments the abject condition to which he had descended. In
ww
addition to his apostasy, this included drinking wine, and girding the Christian
m
belt (zünnar) around his waist. Indeed, with his religion gone, taken away by the
co
te.
Christian beauty, and his belief replaced with unbelief, his soul was bound to
ga
burn in hell.107 The shaykh regrets that ‘the fifty years of my obedience [to the
sh
Islamic obligatory acts] have been for naught!’ The wretchedness of the shaykh
w.a
reaches a climax when he agrees to the infidel girl’s most humiliating demand:
ww
m
co
The Shaykh of the Kaʿaba, the master of the age
te.
Elected to serve as pig herder for a year.108
ga
sh
w.a
The shaykh’s disciples and companions who had accompanied him to Rūm
ww
remained powerless to prevent the shaykh’s ignoble descent into unbelief and
returned to their homes. Upon their return, the shaykh’s most devoted disciple
m
co
– the one disciple who had not initially joined him on the journey – learned of
te.
his master’s fate. After berating the other disciples for having failed to save the
ga
sh
shaykh through prayer, the devoted disciple, together with the others, set off
w.a
for Rūm, where for 40 days they collectively prayed for the shaykh’s soul. They
ww
also did penitence in a cave for 40 days, wailing and writhing with tears in their
m
eyes. In the end, the Prophet Muḥammad appeared before the most devoted
co
te.
disciple in a dream and informed him that their prayers had secured the Lord’s
ga
forgiveness. The shaykh’s heart thus would be cleansed of unbelief so that he

sh
could return to his previous pious state.109

w.a
That night, when the party of disciples set out to return home with the
ww
shaykh, who had donned his Sufi cloak once again and had been completely cured
m
co
of unbelief, the infidel girl had a dream in which the sun came before her and
te.
informed her that the shaykh had left. The sun implored her to go to him and take
ga
up his religion, saying that ‘although you diverted him from the right path, now
sh
w.a
you take the path of him who has returned to Islam’.110 The girl awoke from the
ww
dream with her heart filled with divine light and, burning like a candle, she began
to cry bloody tears as passionate love for the shaykh filled her heart. She set off in
m
co
search of him, barefoot and bare headed, wandering in bewilderment, lost in her
te.
grief. Likewise in his dreams, the shaykh was informed by a vision from God of the
ga
sh
Christian girl’s miserable state. When he and his disciples found her writhing in
w.a
the mud somewhere on a mountain, she was so beyond help in her wretchedness
ww
m
co
106
te.
107
ga
sh
108
Ibid., 82, line 554: Pir-i Kaabe şeyh-i sadr-ı rüzigar / Bir yıl eyler hukbanlık.
w.a
109
Ibid., 88–96, lines 593–641.
ww
110
Ibid., 96–102, lines 642–90.

that she begged for release from her life with the sole desire of reuniting with the
shaykh in the other world. The story concludes with the repentant girl dying upon
m
co
the prayers of the shaykh.111
te.
ga
sh
w.a
Conclusion
ww
m
The stories of Sīmurgh, Muḥammad and Ṣafwān, and Şeykh Abdürrezzak (i.e.,
co
te.
Shaykh Ṣanʿān) are striking examples of how Gülşehri’s thematic emphasis on
ga
kufr and idol worship give particular shape to his version of the Speech of the
sh
Birds. The legend of Sīmurgh appearing over China provides the backdrop to
w.a
the emergence of idol worship during the pre-Islamic era. Gülşehri’s story of
ww
Ṣafwān and the Prophet Muḥammad illustrates the Prophet’s battle against the
m
co
idol worship, and his success in cleansing Mecca of unbelief and converting even
te.
the most obdurate infidel to Islam. Finally, the long account of Shaykh Ṣanʿān
ga
demonstrates that, in the face of seductive and irresistible idols, one could
sh
w.a
muster divine assistance in the spiritual battle against kufr by supplicating the
ww
Prophet.
Linking literary works with the political, religious, socio-economic and
m
co
historical contexts in which they were produced proves to be one of the greatest
te.
methodological challenges facing scholars of cultural history. Making connections

ga
sh
between literary works and material culture proves to be equally difficult.

w.a
Evidence from the thirteenth century indicates that Christians were the majority
ww
in Seljuq Anatolia.112 Gülşehir, like much of Cappadocia, was home to medieval

m
Christian churches carved out of the soft volcanic turf and elaborately decorated
co
te.
with colourful frescoes. The Church of St John of Gülşehir (today Karşı Kilisesi),
ga
a two-storey structure built in the shape of a cross with one apse, complete with
sh
a wine cellar, graves, water channels, and living quarters, seems to have been a
w.a
local aristocratic family’s private chapel with a pictorial programme is dated

ww
at 1212–13.113 Situated three kilometres in the distance is Açık Saray, a site of

m
co
extensive rock cuttings, with Roman tombs and churches from the ninth to the
te.
eleventh century. That it served as an important bishopric indicates that there was
ga
once a thriving Christian community here. Yet, we know virtually nothing about
sh
w.a
this region during the Muslim period, and how its Christian communities fared
ww
under Seljuq and Mongol rule. Although scholars of Muslim medieval Anatolia
have focused on the history of Muslim rule and Muslim communities, without
m
co
knowledge of the Christian communities sharing the same space with Muslims, we
te.
have only half the picture.

ga
sh
w.a
Ibid., 104–10, lines 691–746.

111
ww
Speros, Decline of Medieval Hellenism, 445–6, 450.

112
m
113
Nota Karamouna, Nilüfer Peker and Tolga B. Uyar, ‘Female Donors in Thirteenth-
co
century Wall Paintings in Cappadocia: An Overview’, in Female Founders in Byzantium and Beyond,
te.
ed. Lioba Theis, Margaret Mullett, Michael Grünbart, Galina Finarova and Matthew Savage,
ga
sh
(Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 2014), 235; Günter Paulus Schiemenz, ‘Zur politischen Zugehörigkeit
w.a
des Gebietes um Sobesos und Zoropassos in den Jahren um 1200’, Jahrbuch der Österreichischen
ww
Byzantinischen Gesellschaft 14 (1965): 209 (207–38).

347
Finally, I conclude with the suggestion that what appears to shape the Turkish
author’s re-adapation of the Persian original is the subtext of an underlying
m
co
religious polemic against Christianity, presenting it as a dangerous form of kufr,
te.
ga
or unbelief. More research on late thirteenth-century and early fourteenth-
sh
century Muslim–Christian polemics composed or circulated in Anatolia may
w.a
allow us to better contextualise the textual communities in which Gülşehri
ww
possibly participated or by which he may have been influenced.114
m
co
te.
ga
Acknowledgements
sh
The research leading to these results has received funding from the European
w.a
Research Council under the European Union’s Seventh Framework Programme
ww
(FP/2007–13) / ERC Grant Agreement n 208476, ‘The Islamisation of Anatolia,
m
co
c.1100–1500’.
te.
ga
sh
w.a
ww
m
co
te.
ga
sh
w.a
ww
m
co
te.
ga
sh
w.a
ww
m
co
te.
ga
sh
w.a
ww
m
co
te.
ga
sh
w.a
ww
114
The genre of qiṣaṣ al-anbiyāʾ, which serves to assimilate Old Testament scripture into
m
the Muslim context, appears to be connected with Muslim antichristian polemics, similar to
co
the case of Old Testament material used in Christian and Jewish polemics (see Frank Talmage,
te.
‘Polemics, Christian-Jewish’, in Dictionary of the Middle Ages, ed. Joseph Strayer (New York:
ga
sh
Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1988), vol. 10, 1–7). Also see Chapter 10 by Andrew Peacock in this
w.a
volume. Likewise, the relationship between polemical literature, apocalyptic literature and
ww
religious conversion deserves further attention.



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enticing the believer into kufr (unbelief), illustrates a central theme in

Gülşehri’s Mantıku’t-Tayr (Speech of the Birds),3 an early fourteenth-century

Anatolian Turkish4 adaptation of ʿAṭṭār’s5 Persian mystical mathnawī of the

English translations are my own unless otherwise specified.

Müsülmanları Tersa eyleyem.

2003), (hereafter as Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Merhan).

Harrassowitz Verlag, 2006), 49–68.

Publications, 1993), 362–4).

© Sara Nur Yıldız (2015)

and New York: Penguin Meridian, 1997), 42).

Andrew Peacock for bringing this publication to my attention.

completely re-evaluated based on manuscript evidence, solid codicological methods, and in

the absence of the nationalistic anxieties motivating earlier Turkish scholars.

© Sara Nur Yıldız (2015)

Is there anything sweeter on earth like justice?

Is there in the world any name like Gülşehri?14

Who is superior to Gülşehri – who could be?

[For he is] the seal of those illustrious strivers on the path.15

The historical identity of the early fourteenth-century Anatolian Sufi poet

Passions in Fourteenth Century Anatolia’, Journal of Turkish Studies 40 (2013): 279–87.

important mystical-religious centre.22 The presence of diverse Sufi orders

city and outlying villages led to a dynamic and competitive atmosphere of

TDVİA 14 (1996): 250; Gülşehri, Mantıku’t-Tayr, ed. Merhan, 30).

attributed to him; however, the authorship of this is disputed.

(Lisbon: Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, 1970), 60.

© Sara Nur Yıldız (2015)

and the Creator by the mythical bird, Sīmurgh.

philosophical and mystical literature to the early eleventh century. ʿAṭṭār’s

Manṭiq al-Ṭayr has been described as a ‘grandiose poetic elaboration’ of Aḥmad

Christian-influenced rituals, at Kırşehir just to the north deserves further investigation.

Akhī Evren, came to Kırşehir where he established a dabbagh-khāna (slaughterhouse)

‘Mathnavīs’ of Farīd al-Dīn Aṭṭār’, Iran 17 (1979): 9.

monarch (padişah) of all the birds.

(Leiden, Boston and Cologne: Brill, 2002), 519 ff.

as a Discipline’, Religion and Literature 41, no. 2 (2009): 38.

© Sara Nur Yıldız (2015)

selection and placement of illustrative stories and parables, resulting in a work

of His creatures as a manifestation of the incarnation of souls. Derived from

night, he radiantly passed over a city in China.39 ʿAṭṭār’s description of Sīmurgh’s

nīmshab (ʿAṭṭār, Manṭiq al-Ṭayr, ed. Shafīʿī-Kadkanī, 108).

O’Kane (Leiden and Boston, MA: Brill, 2003), 627).

recognised Sīmurgh in his entirety and true full being:

Whereas the believer/faithful one believes in the bird’s unity/oneness

The infidel assumes that the bird is an image on the feather44

Don’t be deceived by the image on a feather

Don’t confuse the bird for its feather.45

Of that which has 100,000 more feathers.46

worshipping one of Sīmurgh’s thousands of different feathers in their various

manifestations. Muslims alone are able to discern the divine whole.47

appearance of Sīmurgh in the beginning of the text, Gülşehri nevertheless

© Sara Nur Yıldız (2015)

a considerably different corpus of illustrative stories.52 Thus, rather than

reproduce ʿAṭṭār’s set of stories, Gülşehri borrows from a variety of sources

ve bu Gelenekte Mantıku’t-Tayr Tercümeleri’, Turkish Studies 7, no. 4 (2012): 658–9 (655–69).

(bat), white falcon (şahbaz), partridge (kebk), and owl (bum).

no. 1 (2005): 171.

The people of Mecca defended their paganism against Muḥammad’s attempt to

Mecca complained to Ṣafwān about Muḥammad.63 Ṣafwān became incensed when

he learned of Muḥammad’s assault on the religious traditions of the Meccan

demürçiye satmak gerek.

© Sara Nur Yıldız (2015)

Whichever path the intelligent one chooses to take,