The Tale of the Three Calendars

In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful, I shall tell you the tale of three Calendars—wandering dervishes who had renounced the world—whose paths crossed on a night that would reveal the mysterious workings of fate and the hidden connections that bind seemingly separate lives.

In the great city of Baghdad, during the reign of the illustrious Caliph Harun al-Rashid, there stood in the wealthy quarter a magnificent house whose beauty was renowned throughout the city. This house belonged to three sisters of extraordinary grace and accomplishment, each more beautiful than the last, who lived together in harmony and prosperity.

The eldest sister was called Zahra, a woman of commanding presence and wisdom who managed their extensive household with skill that would have impressed the Caliph’s own stewards. The second sister, Amina, possessed knowledge of music and poetry that drew scholars and artists from distant lands to hear her discourse. The youngest, Safiya, had such beauty that poets compared her face to the full moon and her grace to the swaying of cypress trees in the evening breeze.

These sisters were known throughout Baghdad not only for their accomplishments but also for their mysterious ways. They received no male visitors, conducted their business through trusted female agents, and appeared in public only when heavily veiled. Yet their wealth seemed inexhaustible, their knowledge encyclopedic, and their influence considerable, leading to endless speculation about their true identities and the source of their fortune.

On a particular evening in the month of Rajab, when the spring air carried the scent of jasmine and the call to evening prayer echoed across the city’s minarets, three strangers arrived separately at the gates of Baghdad. Each was a Calendar—a wandering mendicant who had renounced worldly possessions to seek spiritual enlightenment through pilgrimage and contemplation.

What made these three Calendars remarkable, and what would soon draw them together in a bond of shared mystery, was that each had lost his right eye under circumstances so extraordinary that they seemed to belong to tales told by professional storytellers rather than the experiences of ordinary men.

The first Calendar was a young man whose bearing suggested noble birth despite his humble robes. He had arrived from the direction of Basra, carrying only a staff and a small bundle containing his few possessions. His missing eye had been replaced by a patch of fine silk that somehow enhanced rather than diminished his handsome features.

The second Calendar approached from the Damascus road, walking with the easy stride of one accustomed to long journeys. Though dressed in the simple garb of a religious mendicant, his hands showed the calluses of one who had once handled weapons, and his remaining eye held the alertness of a trained warrior.

The third Calendar entered through the northern gate, having traveled from distant Aleppo. His demeanor was that of a scholar, for even in his humble clothes, he carried himself with the dignity of one whose mind held vast stores of learning. The loss of his right eye had occurred under circumstances so bizarre that he had never fully explained them to another living soul.

As fate would have it—or perhaps as Allah ordained—all three men found themselves at nightfall standing before the same mosque, uncertain where they might find shelter for the night. Baghdad’s inns were expensive, and their purses contained barely enough for bread, let alone lodging.

“Peace be upon you, brother,” said the first Calendar to the second, noting their similar circumstances and appearance.

“And upon you, peace,” replied the second, gesturing toward the third Calendar who was approaching them. “It seems we are all travelers in the same predicament.”

When the third Calendar joined them, the three men marveled at their similarities—not only were they all mendicant dervishes, but each bore the mark of having lost his right eye. This coincidence seemed too remarkable to be mere chance.

“Brothers,” said the first Calendar, “surely it is no accident that three men of such similar circumstances and appearance should meet on the same evening in this vast city. Perhaps Allah has brought us together for a purpose.”

As they discussed their situations, a servant girl approached them. She was beautifully dressed and carried herself with the confidence of one who served in a wealthy household.

“Noble sirs,” she said with respectful courtesy, “my mistresses have observed your plight from their window. They are women of virtue and charity who invite you to share their evening meal and spend the night under their protection. They ask only that you conduct yourselves as men of honor and ask no questions about matters that do not concern you.”

The three Calendars, amazed by this unexpected hospitality, accepted gratefully. They followed the servant through streets lit by hanging lamps until they reached the magnificent house they had heard described but never seen.

The interior of the house surpassed every tale of its splendor. Rooms with walls of polished marble were illuminated by chandeliers of crystal and gold. Persian carpets covered floors inlaid with precious woods and mother-of-pearl. The air was perfumed with incense of sandalwood and rose, and soft music played from hidden musicians.

They were led to a great hall where three ladies sat upon divans covered with silk brocade. Each lady was veiled, but their bearing and grace marked them as women of the highest refinement. Before them was spread a feast that would have graced the table of a sultan—roasted peacock stuffed with precious spices, fish prepared with sauces from India, fruits from the gardens of Damascus, and sweets that melted upon the tongue like honey mixed with pearls.

“Welcome, noble travelers,” said the eldest sister, Zahra. “You are our guests tonight, and everything in this house is at your service. We ask only that you enjoy our hospitality and refrain from curiosity about matters that must remain private.”

The Calendars, overwhelmed by such generosity, expressed their gratitude and promised to conduct themselves with perfect courtesy. The meal that followed was accompanied by intelligent conversation about poetry, philosophy, and the spiritual mysteries that occupy the minds of those who have renounced the world for higher purposes.

As the evening progressed and the servants brought sherbet cooled with snow from distant mountains, the second sister, Amina, began to sing. Her voice was so beautiful that it seemed the very angels paused in their celestial hymns to listen. The melodies she chose spoke of love and loss, of journeys both physical and spiritual, and of the mysterious ways that fate guides the steps of mortals.

When her song ended, the youngest sister, Safiya, spoke: “Noble guests, we have shared food and music with you. Now, if you would honor us further, perhaps each of you would tell us the story of how you came to lose your right eye. For we perceive that each loss occurred under circumstances most extraordinary.”

The Calendars looked at each other in amazement. How had these women discerned that their similar disfigurements each concealed a tale worth telling? But the hospitality they had received, and the evident wisdom of their hostesses, moved them to agree.

The first Calendar began his tale:

“Noble ladies, I was once a prince in a kingdom beyond Basra, heir to wealth and power that seemed as permanent as the mountains. But I was afflicted with curiosity about the forbidden arts, and I sought knowledge that mortals are not meant to possess. Through studying ancient books of magic, I learned to transform myself into various creatures and to travel to realms invisible to ordinary men.

“One night, I used these arts to transform myself into a great bird and flew to a distant city ruled by a sorcerer king. There I discovered a beautiful princess held captive by evil magic, and I fell deeply in love with her. But when I attempted to rescue her using my magical knowledge, I was discovered by the sorcerer, who punished my presumption by striking out my right eye and transforming me into a monkey.

“For a year, I lived in this form, serving as entertainment in the court of a king who never suspected that his amusing pet was actually a prince under enchantment. Only through the intervention of a wise woman skilled in counter-magic was I eventually restored to human form, but the loss of my eye remained as a permanent reminder of the dangers of seeking forbidden knowledge.”

The second Calendar then told his story:

“I too was once a man of position, though not royal birth. I served as captain of the guard to a great merchant whose caravans traveled from Constantinople to Cairo. This merchant had a beautiful daughter whom I loved desperately, though I never dared declare my feelings due to the difference in our stations.

“One day, the merchant’s caravan was attacked by bandits in the desert, and his daughter was captured and carried away to be sold in the slave markets of distant lands. I pursued the bandits alone, following them through territories more dangerous than the valleys of hell itself.

“After months of pursuit, I finally tracked them to a hidden city ruled by a king of the djinn. There I learned that the merchant’s daughter had been transformed into a gazelle by jealous female spirits who resented her human beauty. To rescue her, I had to engage in single combat with the djinn king’s champion, a creature of supernatural strength and ferocity.

“Though I ultimately triumphed in this battle, the djinn champion’s final blow cost me my right eye. The merchant’s daughter was restored to human form, but when I brought her safely back to her father, she chose to marry another man, saying that my disfigurement reminded her too painfully of her ordeal. Thus I lost both my love and my eye in service of a quest that brought me nothing but sorrow.”

The third Calendar completed the trilogy of tales:

“Sisters, my story begins with scholarship rather than love or adventure. I was once considered the most learned man in Aleppo, master of seven languages and versed in all the sciences known to mortal men. My pride in my intellectual achievements was so great that I believed no mystery in heaven or earth could resist my investigation.

“When I heard rumors of a book written by Solomon himself, containing the true names of all the djinn and the keys to commanding them, I spent my entire fortune seeking this legendary tome. My search led me through the libraries of Baghdad, the monasteries of Mesopotamia, and finally to a cave hidden in the mountains where an ancient hermit claimed to possess the book.

“This hermit, who may have been a djinn himself in human form, agreed to let me study the book for one night in exchange for my most precious possession. I thought he meant my gold, but when I opened the book and began to read the sacred names written therein, I felt my right eye burning with supernatural fire.

“The hermit explained that the book’s knowledge could only be purchased with sight—that to see the invisible world of spirits, one must sacrifice the ability to see the visible world completely. I had gained the power to perceive djinn and angels, but at the cost of half my earthly vision. Moreover, the book vanished at dawn, leaving me with knowledge I could never fully use and a loss I could never recover.”

When the three Calendars had finished their tales, the sisters sat in thoughtful silence. Finally, Zahra spoke:

“Noble travelers, your stories reveal the workings of a destiny more complex than any mortal mind can fully comprehend. Each of you has lost his eye through seeking something beyond the ordinary realm of human experience—whether magical power, transcendent love, or forbidden knowledge. Yet perhaps these losses, painful as they have been, have prepared you for roles you could never have imagined.”

She paused, then continued: “We too have tales to tell, and perhaps the time has come to reveal why three women live in such splendor while maintaining such secrecy, and why we were moved to offer hospitality to three strangers whose stories echo our own.”

And so the eldest sister began to speak of their true identities—how they were actually the daughters of a king who had been overthrown by a usurper, how they had escaped with a portion of the royal treasury, and how they had lived in hiding for years, using their wealth to help other exiles and refugees while waiting for the time when they could safely reclaim their heritage.

The middle sister told of how she had used her musical gifts to communicate secretly with loyal supporters of their father throughout the Islamic world, encoding messages in songs that could be safely sung in public without arousing suspicion.

The youngest sister revealed that her extraordinary beauty had drawn the attention of the Caliph himself, who had offered her protection and a place in his court, but that she had refused in order to remain with her sisters and continue their work of hidden charity.

As dawn approached and the morning call to prayer echoed across Baghdad, the three sisters made an extraordinary proposal to their guests:

“Noble Calendars, you have each sacrificed much in your quests for truth, love, and knowledge. We offer you the opportunity to join us in a quest that combines all three—helping us reclaim our father’s throne and restore justice to a kingdom that has suffered under tyranny. Your varied experiences and skills, combined with our resources and connections, might achieve what none of us could accomplish alone.”

The three Calendars, amazed by this unexpected turn in their fortunes, readily agreed to this proposal. Over the following months, they worked together to build a network of supporters, gather intelligence about conditions in the usurped kingdom, and plan a restoration that would be achieved through wisdom and justice rather than mere force.

The first Calendar’s knowledge of magic proved invaluable in gathering intelligence and protecting their secret communications. The second Calendar’s military experience enabled him to assess the loyal forces they could count upon and plan strategies for regaining the kingdom with minimal bloodshed. The third Calendar’s scholarship allowed him to draft legal documents and treaties that would legitimize their claim and ensure stable governance once victory was achieved.

When they finally launched their campaign to restore the rightful royal family, their success was so complete and their methods so honorable that even their enemies were impressed. The usurper, faced with evidence of his crimes and the overwhelming support for the legitimate rulers, abdicated without bloodshed and was allowed to live quietly in exile.

The three sisters were restored to their rightful positions as princesses, but they chose to rule jointly, with each taking responsibility for different aspects of governance. The three Calendars were offered high positions in the new administration, and each married one of the sisters in ceremonies that celebrated not only their personal happiness but also the triumph of justice and the mysterious ways that fate brings together those who are meant to serve great purposes.

And so this tale teaches us that sometimes what appears to be loss or misfortune is actually preparation for unexpected opportunities. The three Calendars’ sacrifices—made in pursuit of worthy but impossible goals—equipped them perfectly for achieving something far greater than any of them had originally sought.

Moreover, their story demonstrates that true hospitality opens doors to possibilities that the hosts could never have anticipated, and that when people of virtue and determination unite their efforts, they can accomplish things that would be impossible for any individual acting alone.

In their old age, the three couples would often gather in the same hall where they had first met, marveling at how a chance encounter on a Baghdad street had led to the restoration of a kingdom and the founding of a dynasty renowned for its wisdom and justice. Their children grew up hearing the story of how their parents’ apparent misfortunes had been transformed by divine providence into the foundations of lasting happiness and meaningful service.

Thus ends the tale of the Three Calendars and the Three Sisters, a story that reminds us that the most significant meetings in our lives often occur when we least expect them, and that those who have suffered much are often best equipped to help others find their way from darkness into light.