The Night the Long Search Ended

*A retelling for children, based on Nabíl's account in **The Dawn-Breakers** of the night of May 22–23, 1844.*

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For many long months, a man named Mullá Ḥusayn had been searching. His beloved teacher had told him that someone very great was about to appear in the world — someone the world had waited for across many ages — and Mullá Ḥusayn wanted, more than anything, to find Him.

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So he travelled south across Persia, mile after dusty mile, until at last he reached the gates of the city of Shíráz. It was late afternoon. He was tired from the road. He sent his brother and his nephew ahead into the city to wait for him at the mosque, and he walked on alone outside the walls.

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And that is when it happened. A Youth came forward to meet him — a Youth with a face so bright and kind that Mullá Ḥusayn could not look away. He wore a green turban. He came straight up to the weary traveler and embraced him as warmly as if the two of them had been the closest of friends for years and years. Then He invited Mullá Ḥusayn to come home with Him.

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Mullá Ḥusayn hesitated. He explained that his companions were waiting for him, and that they were to pray together that evening. But the Youth answered him calmly, sure of every word, that no promise would be broken by coming, and that His will had decided otherwise. So together they walked back to the house, and as they crossed the doorway the Youth spoke gentle words of welcome: *"Enter therein in peace, secure."*

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Inside, the Youth was the kindest of hosts. He poured water so His guest could wash his hands, brought him something to eat, and made tea. Then He asked Mullá Ḥusayn a simple question: *Who are you looking for?*

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Mullá Ḥusayn began to describe the special person his teacher had promised would come — He would be young, of medium height; He would come from a holy family; and though no one would have taught Him, He would understand every kind of knowledge there was. One by one, Mullá Ḥusayn listed the signs.

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And quietly, the Youth told him: *I have every one of those signs.*

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Mullá Ḥusayn was not sure yet. He had carried a long way a piece of writing he had made — full of the hardest, most puzzling ideas he knew, the kind that took great scholars years to understand. He handed it over, almost as a test. The Youth opened it. And in just a few minutes He explained every hard part of it, untangling every knot, sharing truths Mullá Ḥusayn had never read in any book by even the wisest teachers he knew.

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Then the Youth picked up His pen. With astonishing speed, never stopping to think, He began to write — chanting the words aloud in a beautiful voice as they flowed out onto the page. Mullá Ḥusayn sat and listened, amazed, as the night grew later and later around them.

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At last Mullá Ḥusayn stood up to go — his heart pounding, his head spinning with wonder. But the Youth smiled and told him to sit back down. *"If you leave in such a state,"* He said kindly, *"whoever sees you will assuredly say: 'This poor youth has lost his mind.'"*

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Then He looked straight at Mullá Ḥusayn and spoke words that would change everything:

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> O thou who art the first to believe in Me! Verily I say, I am the > Báb, the Gate of God, and thou art the Bábu’l-Báb, the gate of > that Gate.

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The long search was over. The One Mullá Ḥusayn had crossed a whole country to find had come out to meet him at the gate, before he had even stepped into the city. And the Báb told him something more:

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> This night, this very hour will, in the days to come, be celebrated > as one of the greatest and most significant of all festivals.

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At that very moment, the record tells us, the clock showed two hours and eleven minutes after sunset. They stayed together, talking, until the sky turned light. And when Mullá Ḥusayn finally walked out into the morning of Shíráz, he was not the same tired traveler who had arrived the day before. He felt so brave and so strong that he believed nothing in all the world could ever frighten him again.

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Sometimes the thing we are looking hardest for finds us first — and the biggest moment of a whole life can arrive quietly, on an ordinary evening, when we least expect it. Bahá'ís all around the world still remember that night every single year, at the very same hour after sunset.

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*This is a retelling for children. For the fuller account, see ["Two Hours and Eleven Minutes After Sunset: The Declaration of the Báb"](/stories/hd-declaration-of-the-bab-mulla-husayn).*

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