Translated by Sama Marwan,
In the stories of “One Thousand and One Nights,” there is a tale that says: (Ali Baba reached the mountain’s treasure when he was able to know the word that opens the cave’s locks. It was enough for him to stand at the huge rock and repeat the password, and then the enchanted rock would open to the hidden door, and its dark interior would shine with light, revealing a flood of jewels and precious stones.)
I believe in this word that flirts with the heart of the rock, making it move and give its best and finest.
More than this, I know the word, and you also know it like me without realizing it. It’s not necessary for magic or a magician to mediate between you and it.
Do you want to know it? It is the kind word.
In every heart, no matter how hard, there is a side for love and compassion, a small corner where sweet emotions chirp. Even from the eye of a killer, a tear must fall someday.
Some hearts may be filled with hatred and malice like snakes, those snakes that kill and kill, coiling around each other in a knot of venomous anger that can only be unraveled by the creeping death within them bit by bit. In these hearts, if you mutter a word, you can find the path to the treasure, and there is no soul that refuses a kind word.
You and I, and that person who kept you awake in the café yesterday, and the one facing you in your office or next to you in the shop, we all are used to letting our tongues run in criticism of people, like whips on the wounds and groans on the backs of slaves. We tear their absences apart, filling the café, the reception area, and the street pavement with bitter chatter and envy for this and that, and then we burn with enmity and meet with furrowed brows with others.
I’m not saying to curse criticism and avoid it altogether, as there is much wrong in people, but have you tried to say the kind word instead of the bad one? To build so that the building constructed by others appears? To rise so that the dwarfs around you feel ashamed? To light the candle instead of cursing the darkness?
If you did, you would see how grudges melt and how the furrowed brow laughs at you. Then you would know that you have magic in your hands, but you do not use it.
The poor Indians play the flute to make the snake dance, and the wild horse calms down when its mane is tickled. Your heart and mine give all their love for a sweet whisper. Even the truth itself, we hate it if it doesn’t wear the kind word.
Believe me, you can always choose the second word to say what you want, and you can build to show that what others have built is weak, and with criticism, you can gain love, provided you believe in the kind word.
