The Death of Mevlana

The description of Mevlana during his final days is as follows: He had crescent-shaped open eyebrows, and his large hazel eyes, with a colour between yellow and black, were so sharp and captivating that no one could withstand his gaze. There was a slight redness on his pale wheatcoloured complexion, and fine hairs covered his temples, with a moustache always neatly trimmed and a sandy beard that had streaks of grey. He walked with a slight stoop, weakened by continuous ascetic practices. One day, while in the bath, he looked at his frail body with pity and remarked, “Throughout my life, I have never felt ashamed in front of anyone, but today I am ashamed of this weak body.”

The writing of the Masnavi had come to an end. However, in his final days, his face had become even paler. His eyes were more distant and profound, and occasional waves of fever came and went. In the last months, he began writing gazelles that spoke of the impending time to depart from this world. One day, while wandering in the courtyard of the madrasa designated for him, he would occasionally sigh and sometimes groan. Suddenly, he fell ill. It was the beginning of November. The illness persisted for about forty days. The two renowned doctors of the Seljuk palace, Physician Mevlana Ekmeleddin and Gazanfer, were in attendance. However, the illness could not be diagnosed. The signs of the illness were high fever and irregular pulse. Yet, he never lost his consciousness, memory, or the ability to be treated. The great patient consoled those around him, saying, “Do not grieve for me; our illness is nothing but a reason to separate from this world.” Initially, his most valued disciple, Hüsameddin Çelebi, who had transcribed the Masnavi, his son Sultan Veled, and all his companions, including Şeyh Sadreddin and Qadi Siraceddin, never left his bedside. They constantly endeavored to alleviate his condition by washing his face, head, feet, and chest with cold water. Sometimes, despite the high fever, he continued to recite his most beautiful rubaiyat and gazelles.

Regarding Mevlana’s illness, one of his esteemed grandsons, Feridun Nafiz, says today: “Despite the pallor of his face, we are not sure whether this is the fever of typhoid or chronic carditis. We personally believe it to be the latter, as the final ailment.” On the day before his death, on December 16th, Mevlana had relatively improved. Until the evening, he conversed with those who came to check on him, yet every word seemed like a farewell. That evening, his most faithful friend, Çelebi Hüsameddin, and his beloved son, Sultan Veled, two doctors, and close friends were once again at his bedside. Sultan Veled had not slept for several nights. Mevlana looked at him with aged eyes and, in a weak voice, said, “Bahauddin! Today I feel a bit better; go, rest!” As Sultan Veled left the room with a moved heart, Mevlana recited his final ghazal, and Hüsameddin Çelebi recorded it with tears: “Go! Lay your head on the pillow. Leave this wretched one who writhes in agony alone. We, the waves of love, struggle and strive through the long winter nights. If you wish, bestow your grace with a smile; if you wish, depart and inflict suffering. There is no need to keep promises for the king of the beautiful faces. “Oh faded lover, be patient; be faithful. The one who kills us has a heart as hard as stone. The one who kills us does not suggest any remedy for the price of our blood. There is no solution to this pain other than to die; so how can I say, ‘Cure this pain!’?” “Last night, I saw an old man in the neighbourhood of love in my dream. He pointed to me with his head and said, ‘Come to our side.’ Even if there are dragons on this path, drive away the dragon with the brightness of that emerald! “It’s enough now! I am unconscious. If you want to show your skill, tell the history of Ebu Ali Sina; talk about the admonition of Abu alAla al-Ma’arri!” This became Mevlana’s final ghazal. Mevlana passed away on December 17, 1273, the fifth Sunday of Jumada al-Akhir of the year 672 in the Hijri calendar, while speaking words of truth and wisdom. As some admirers expressed it, “The sun of his majesty set in the western horizon of the holy realm, becoming invisible.” In reality, as the Sipahsalar described, he had seated himself at the threshold of eternity, awaiting the opening of the door and his invitation. However, the “sun of Mevlana, which had warmed hearts and enlightened minds for 700 years in Konya,” perpetually kept him alive among us. The next morning, Konya was in a serene silence. A grand funeral ceremony was taking place. However, this calm shattered when the time came to lift the casket. As Mevlana’s outer shroud, known as the ferace, was brought out, people poured into the streets, flowing in from markets and bazaars, shedding sincere tears as they came to welcome the funeral. At the head of the funeral procession were Sadreddin Konevi, two doctors, Muhiddin Pervane, and all the Seljuk viziers, emirs, professors, and students. According to the Sipahsalars, they circled the casket through the marketplaces, and officials wielding sticks attempted to disperse the crowd. Finally, the casket reached the prayer ground close to the evening prayer. Mevlana had willed for his prayer to be led by Sheikh Sadreddin. However, when Sheikh Sadreddin came forward to lead the prayer, the physician Ekmeleddin advised, “Observe decorum. Mevlana was the true king of these venerable sheikhs, and he has departed.” Hearing this, Sadreddin, unable to contain his sorrow, broke into sobs and seemed on the verge of fainting. They had to support him, and in his place, Qadi Siraceddin stepped forward and conducted the prayer. Mevlana’s admirers considered that night not as a night of separation but as a night of union. For this reason, they named that night “Şeb-i Arus” (The Night of Union) and celebrated it in their ceremonies. Because, as Mevlana said: “When they pass my bier after my death, do not think that I am concerned with the troubles of this world. When you see my funeral: Do not cry as ‘Separation! Separation!’ My true meeting with my beloved is at that time. “When they lay me in the grave, do not say, ‘Farewell! Farewell!’ because the grave is a veil behind which there is the tranquillity of paradises.” Mevlana knew this well: “God created me from the wine of love. Even if death crushes me, I will still be that love.”