The Happiest Man in the Prison City

A retelling for children, based on Bahá'í Chronicles, from 'Abdu'l-Bahá's book Memorials of the Faithful.

Late in the afternoon, a man would lift down his samovar — the little kettle he used for making tea — and wrap it carefully in a dark cloth pouch that had once been part of a saddlebag. Then he would carry it out the door and go looking for somewhere beautiful: a garden, perhaps, or a green meadow, or an open field. There he would sit, pour himself a cup, and have his tea.

His name was Muḥammad-‘Alí, and he came from the city of Iṣfahán, far away in Persia. He was one of the very first people to follow Bahá'u'lláh. But the thing everyone remembered about him was not where he came from. It was how happy he was — even when, by all rights, he should have been miserable.

Let me tell you how that happened.

Back in Iṣfahán, long before, Muḥammad-‘Alí had been one of the most respected men in the whole city. His house was always full. Travelers knocked at his door knowing they would be welcomed, whether they were rich or poor, and no one was ever turned away. He was generous and good-humored, the kind of person everyone liked to be around.

Then he heard of the new Faith and gave his whole heart to it. After that, his house changed. Now it became a place where the believers gathered, day and night, to pray and to learn. For a long time he was safe, because he was related to an important man in the city. But at last even that man could not protect him. "I can protect you no longer," he warned. "You are in grave danger. The best thing for you is to leave here, and go on a journey."

So Muḥammad-‘Alí left his comfortable home behind. He traveled to a country called ‘Iráq, and there he did the thing he wanted most in all the world: he came into the presence of Bahá'u'lláh. He did not have much money anymore, and he lived very simply. But he was happy and content, and kind to everyone he met.

When Bahá'u'lláh was forced to leave the city of Baghdád and travel far away, Muḥammad-‘Alí went too. When the journey continued on to another city still farther off, he went again. He simply would not be parted from Bahá'u'lláh. And here is something people noticed about him: no matter what happened, no matter how hard the road became, his heart stayed exactly the same — steady, calm, and full of trust.

At last the journeys led to a grim fortress city by the sea called ‘Akká. And there, Muḥammad-‘Alí was put in prison. He was to be a prisoner now for the rest of his life.

Stop and think about that for a moment. This was a man who had once owned a fine house full of guests. Now he was locked inside a prison city, an old man with very little, far from the home of his youth. You might expect his story to turn sad here.

Instead, it became the happiest part of all.

Because Muḥammad-‘Alí had learned a secret. He had learned to notice every single good thing that came his way, and to be glad for it. In the mornings he kept busy with a tiny bit of work. And then, in the afternoons, came the samovar, and the cloth pouch, and the walk out to some bright meadow for tea.

"How delicious my tea is today," he would say, holding his cup. "What perfume, what color!" He would look at the field around him and marvel: "How lovely this meadow is, and the flowers so bright!" He used to say that everything in the world had its own special fragrance, even the air, even plain water. To him, ordinary days felt like pure delight.

The people watching him could hardly believe it. Even kings, they said to one another, were not as happy as this old man. "He is completely free of the world," they would declare. "He lives in joy." And it was true. He was a prisoner — and yet, somehow, his heart was freer and more peaceful than the hearts of powerful rulers in their palaces.

Muḥammad-‘Alí lived to be more than eighty years old. He had received many loving letters from Bahá'u'lláh over the years, and he held on to his gladness right to the very end.

Here is the secret he had found, and it is one we can keep too: happiness is not really about how much you own, or whether everything goes your way. A heart full of love and trust can find beauty almost anywhere — even in a cup of tea, even in a meadow's flowers, even in a prison by the sea.

This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see "Muḥammad-‘Alí-i-Isfahání".

editors, B. C.. *Bahá'í Chronicles*. https://bahaichronicles.org/mu%e1%b8%a5ammad-ali-i-isfahani/