Searching for Bahá'u'lláh in the Mountains

Bahíyyih Khánum, the daughter of Bahá’u’lláh, told Myron Phelps of the time when her Father had left Baghdád and was living as a dervish in the mountains. When the family at last heard where He might be, but had no means of reaching Him, she recalled:

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There was then in Baghdad an earnest Bábí, formerly a pupil of Qurratu’l-‘Ayn [Ṭáhirih] (a woman famous for her beauty and learning, who was one of the disciples of the Báb, and a martyr). This man said to us that as he had no ties and did not care for his life, he desired no greater happiness than to be allowed to seek for him whom all loved so much, and that he would not return without him.

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He was, however, very poor, not being able even to provide an ass for the journey; and he was besides not very strong, and therefore not able to go on foot. We had no money for the purpose, nor anything of value by the sale of which money could be procured, with the exception of a single rug, upon which we all slept.

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This we sold and with the proceeds bought an ass for this friend, who thereupon set out upon the search. Time passed; we heard nothing, and fell into the deepest dejection and despair. Finally, four months having elapsed since our friend had departed, a message was one day received from him saying that he would bring my father home on the next day.

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The other members of the family could not credit the truth of this news, but it seemed to electrify my brother. He minutely questioned and examined the messenger, and became much excited. He quite believed that his father would return, but no one else did.

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During the night following the next day, however, my father walked into the house. We hardly knew him; his beard and hair were long and matted—he really was a Dervish in appearance. The meeting between my brother and his father was the most touching and pathetic sight I have ever seen. Abbas Effendi threw himself on the floor before him and kissed and embraced his feet, weeping and crying, ‘Why did you leave us, why did you leave us?’ … The scene carried a weight not to be expressed in words.

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The absence of my father had covered a little more than two years.

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