The Merchant and the Parrot

Tonight’s story comes from Persia, the old name for the country we now call Iran. It is a land of walled gardens, fountains and houses decorated with blue tiles. About eight hundred years ago, a poet called Rumi wrote a very long book called the Masnavi, full of stories. Tonight’s is one of them.

Long ago there was a rich merchant. In his house he kept a green parrot in a beautiful cage. The parrot sang wonderfully, in a clear, bright voice, and it could talk too. The merchant was very fond of it.

One day the merchant was getting ready to travel to India to trade. Before he left, he asked everyone in the house what present they would like him to bring back. He asked the parrot too. “And you, what shall I bring you from India?”

The parrot answered, “In India, lots of parrots live free in the forests. When you get there, please give them my greetings. Tell them there is a parrot just like them, shut up in a cage, who misses them very much. And ask them: what can I do to get out?”

The merchant promised to pass on the message.

He made a long journey, across deserts and mountains, all the way to India. One day, in a forest, he saw a flock of green parrots chattering in the branches. He remembered his promise, stopped, and called out the message from his own parrot.

As soon as he had finished, one of the parrots on the branch trembled, fell to the ground with a thud, and lay perfectly still.

The merchant was horrified. Oh no, he thought, what have I said? I’ve made that poor parrot die. It must have been related to mine, and the sad news was too much for it. He felt terrible, but there was nothing he could do, so he went on his way.

When his trading was done, the merchant came home with presents for everyone. The parrot in the cage asked, “What about my message? What did the parrots in India say?”

The merchant sighed. “Don’t ask. When I gave them your message, one of them fell down dead. I wish I had never passed it on.”

As soon as it heard this, the parrot in the cage trembled too, fell to the bottom of its cage, and lay perfectly still.

The merchant was stunned. He cried out, he called its name again and again, but the parrot didn’t move. Heartbroken, he opened the cage, gently lifted the parrot out, and laid it on the ground outside.

At that very moment the parrot sprang up, flapped its wings, and flew up to a high branch of a tree.

The merchant stared up at it, open-mouthed. The parrot called down from the branch: “That parrot in India didn’t die. It was only pretending. That was its advice to me, sent without a single word. It was telling me: it’s your beautiful singing that got you locked in a cage. If you want to be free, be as quiet as if you were dead. I did what it told me, and now I’m free.”

The merchant stood still for a while. Then he understood. “Go on, then,” he said. “Go in peace. You’ve taught me something today.”

The parrot said goodbye to the merchant one last time, then spread its wings and flew away, over the blue-tiled rooftops, on and on towards the edge of the sky.