Karabalgasun and Bamiyan

Here is a story about Karabalgasun and Bamiyan which has been censored for over a decade, among other things because of the old man of Bamiyan is older than methusaleh and may still be alive When Karabalgasun fell, it fell from its splendor as a gem of the steppes, from its fame as the easternmost great center of the faith of Mani, the Illuminator. It is said that tens of thousands of dark, torch wielding horsemen descended from north of the Orhon Valley, hailing down from the monstrous hills surrounding the city before the dark of the night. Flaming arrows were discharged, raining on palaces, temples and pagodas like angels of death. The city soon found itself in hell, perishing on a pit of fire and brimstone. There was this Uighur prince, Tughlug Arslan Beg, who narrowly escaped this Kyrgyz onslaught, which would bring the glory of the Uighur empire to an abrupt end, after which Civilization would not visit the valley of Karabalgasun for another 500 years. Tired and dejected, Tughlug rode aimlessly, with a few of his vassals, toward where the sun sets, where there still were followers of Mani, the Illuminator. "Beg, His Valiant Nobleness Arslan Beg, may your thirst of spirit be quenched by the Light; May this Gobi desert be your ornate rug; May the Eternal Sky be your yurt…" Rowshan, the jester, beat his tambourine and started singing, hoping to cheer up his master. "Rowshan, what's all that--- wouldn't a real yurt be more helpful at this moment? When will we reach Samarkand?" "Uh… Beg… Yes my Beg, another 13 days my Beg." --- All fell silent as they marched on, observing a distant sandstorm ravaging the ruinous ancient kingdoms of the Tarim Basin. They finally reached Samarkand, only to find it overrun by Tajik cavalrymen, who conducted raids of the Buddhist princedom and garrisoned here, preparing for the investiture of their command of the region by a certain Tahir ibn Hussein, the beloved of Allah and the favorite of Caliph Harun al Rashid. Not a decent Manichaeist church was to be found, all looted, the booties carried to Tahir's fortress in Balkh. Tughlug clenched his teeth--- his face turned red with zeal--- and called upon his servants: "We will march southwest towards Babylon, where the Prophet received the Angels of the Light. It is there that I can find my peace of mind." A few days on their southwestward journey, they arrived at a site, a ghost town. They did not hesitate approaching this town, not without awe and marvel, because--- presiding over the decayed adobes and broken columns, were two giant statue of the prophet Buddha, which, although weather beaten, still told of the heydays of a great empire whose memories were otherwise long buried in remote history. Stopping in front of the cavernous cliffs where the Buddhas were carved out, beholding this wonder of immortal hands, prince Tughlug forgot about his grief and erupted into a hysterical joy, covering his ears with both hands, screaming like a frenzied child, his echos madly bouncing on the rocky walls in the surroundings over and over again as if incarnating into ceaseless forms of existence until it finally died down. An old tattered man appeared in front of the crazed prince--- a dervish? No, a monk? No, a Brahmin, priest? A holy man. He seemed to have just woken up from a long slumber, wearisome and cynical. "Say, old man, what province on this great wide world are you from?" Asked prince Tughlug. "Young man, I am from Ard-allah, the Earth of God." Tughlug startled a bit and Rowshan protested: "Over here is Prince Tughlug Arslan Beg of Karabalgasun, Land of the Uighurs, the Brave, Noble and Enlightened…" Tughlug stopped Rowshan, looked up and surveyed around, and rested his eyes on the old man: " Well then, Elder of Ard-allah… Do you know… I am quite struck by the immensity of these… images of our prophet Buddha. Who built it? When?" "Yes my lord. These are in fact the monuments of the reign of Kushanshah Kanishka of old. His empire perished 500 years ago… They said it wasn't men who destroyed this empire, for such a great empire could not be put down by human hands." Tughlug felt a faintness seizing him, almost bringing him aground from the saddle, and then he felt moistness blurring his eyes, and wept. He said: " Old man, if you permit. My nation too, was such that no mortal could destroy. On the night of its fall, I've seen the Angels of Death. Now I am without home. Not even the faithful of Mani are spared the mercy of God--- I just passed through Samarkand, that city of Light. I saw wanton pillage and the rampage of believers of the Arab religion. Come, Rowshan, come. Let's pray to Mani, for our strength and deliverance." The cynical old man interrupted: " Who is it that you are praying to?" "Pardon me?" " Are you sure you are not praying to a dead man, for a dead nation?" Rowshan literally jumped up and, with rage, dragged the frail old man to ground. He yelled hysterically to the offender: " You will learn a lesson today, old… old beggar: do not insult a Uighur… do not insult a Uighur before his Prince the Righteous, Pious and…" Tughlug's face was also red with intensity. The old man regained his balance, sat up on the dusty ground and spoke with a panting voice: " Pri… Prince, a man is the most powerful when he is without possession, most high when he is without title. He will only see the true Light without prophets in between." Tughlug burst in anger: " Lie! Pitiful lie! Mani is the illuminator illuminated. It is through this window that Man can see the true Light. He is the prophet of the Uighurs. In misfortune, it is from Mani that we seek solace. Although my nation is no more, my faith lives on. It is in my prophet that my nation lives on and that I know I am a noble prince of the Uighurs. The prophet is the pillar of my people in exile, the pillar of my existence." The old man, with a mysterious smile: "Oh no, my Lord the Prince, don't let your existence blind you. You receive the Light through the Heart. Your Ego is the curtain of the Heart; Nation is the Ego of Humanity. Who are the prophets? What are the prophets but the Light's shadow on Nations?" It took Tughlug quite a while to contemplate on the old man's words, and then the prince burst into a malignant laughter: "Hahaha, old fool… haha… I understand, I understand that you are a mad, mad man…" Tughlug then gathered his entourage and marched off in the direction of Babylon again. Miles away from the giant cliffs, Tughlug suddenly decided to turn back. Rowshan volunteered to go back alone and chop that old man into pieces. But the prince stopped his horse and gazed at the cliffs, murmured: " I've dreamed him… I've dreamed him at the end of Babylon…" By the way, later the prince bypassed the cliffs and Samarkand on his way up to the marshes of Syr Darya. It was there that he joined the Oghuz nomads. There he would convert to Islam. One of his sons, Seljuk, would seize Babylon (then called Baghdad), and presided over an empire reaching from Khorasan to Rum. The sons of Seljuk would see Baghdad razed to the ground by the Mongols. But then an Oghuz vassal of the Seljuks would again found a great empire extending from Iraq to Europe to North Africa. It was these Ottomans, as they were call, who proclaimed themselves to be the Caliphs of the Prophet, Amir of the Faithful. And then, inevitably, this empire also fell. Now the faithful of Islam lament the downfall of the Caliphate. Some turn their grief and prayers into zeal and answer the encroaching enemy forces with bullets and bombs. It is a wintry day when the Taliban of Afghanistan capture Bamiyan, where the great statues of Buddha stand. A Taliban minister, as soon as he gets off the jeep, passes through the mortared rubbles and corpses of Hazara fighters, and walks straight up to the open ground facing the two badly weathered giants. He beholds these monuments of awe--- his teeth clenched, his face turned red with intense zeal--- and murmured: "I've dreamed him… the mad man… I've dreamed him at the end of the World…" And then he orders the demolition of the statues.