Barseesa

The Holy Man

He bowed. Not to Allah. Not to the angels. Not to anything holy. He bowed to Shaytan… and the rope around his neck did not loosen.

This man — remember his name — Barseesa. A worshipper among Bani Israel. For years he did nothing but worship his Lord. No wealth. No family. No distractions. Just prayer after prayer after prayer, until the people of his village knew him as the most pious man among them.

And he died… on his knees… before the devil. But this is not where his story begins.

His story begins in a quiet village, with a man the people trusted more than they trusted themselves. Not because he performed miracles. Not because he was a scholar. But because in a world full of men who chased this life, he was the one man who wanted nothing from it.

And Shaytan could not reach him. For years he tried. Every whisper, every trick, every soldier in his army — sent and defeated. The man was untouchable. Until Shaytan said: “None of you could break him. So I will go myself. And I will not use force… I will use his own goodness against him.”

The Condition

Three brothers lived in the village. Good men. When the call for jihad came, they had no choice but to answer. But they had a problem — a younger sister, unmarried, with no one to care for her.

They asked among the people. But every time, the same thought returned. The worshipper. The one man no one had ever doubted.

They went to Barseesa. “We are leaving in the path of Allah. Our sister has no one. Will you look after her?” He refused. Immediately. “A‘udhu billah. I will not put myself in this fitna. Find someone else.”

But Shaytan was already moving. Not toward Barseesa — not yet. Toward his conscience. “These men give their lives for His deen. And you will not even help them? And think — if she goes to someone who does not fear Allah the way you do… what will happen to her then? You are the safest hands in this village. You know that.”

So Barseesa agreed. But on one condition. “I will take care of her food. That is it. No interaction. No conversation. I will leave food at my doorstep, and she will come and collect it.”

The brothers left. And for months it worked. He placed food at his door. She came and took it. He never looked. Never spoke. But Shaytan was not trying to break Barseesa. He was trying to get Barseesa to break himself. And the first move was already in place.

The Inch

For months it worked perfectly. Food at his doorstep. She comes, she takes it, she leaves. No words. No contact. Clean. Then the whisper came.

“Barseesa… she is a young woman, walking in the open where the whole village can see her. Do you know what people think when they see a woman walk to a man’s door every day? You are not protecting her. Take the food to her door instead. No one sees. No one talks.”

It made sense. It sounded like protection. So he started leaving food at her door instead. Weeks passed. Then another whisper.

“She lives alone. You leave food and walk away — but what if she is unwell? Her brothers trusted YOU. At least knock. Ask if she is all right. That is not desire — that is the duty they placed on your shoulders.”

So he knocked. A few words. Nothing more. Then twice a week. Then every day. Then the door was open when he came. Then he sat down. Then the conversations grew longer. Then the hours disappeared without him noticing.

And one day the man who had worshipped Allah for longer than most men have lived… forgot to pray. Not because he chose to. But because something else had quietly filled the space where his Lord used to be.

The Fear

What happened between Barseesa and the girl, the story does not dwell on. Because the sin is not the point. The fall is.

The man who once stood in prayer from dusk to dawn now rushed through his worship like a man late for something else. And then she told him she was carrying his child.

Months passed. The child was born. And the moment it cried for the first time, Barseesa felt something he had never felt in all his years of worship. Fear. Not the fear of Allah that had kept him standing in prayer. A different fear — the fear of being found out.

And the whisper returned. Cold now. “Those brothers are coming home. They will see the child. They will see her face. And they will know. Your name — the name mothers told their children to respect — will become the story they tell to warn their daughters. Everything you built, gone. Not in years. In one single day.”

He sat in the dark for hours. “There is only one way this does not end with you destroyed. And you already know what it is.” He knew. And by morning, there would be no one left to tell the story.

The Burial

He stood up. Walked to the door of her room. And stopped. His hand was on the door. Everything inside him was screaming to turn back — to fall into sajdah and never get up. But he opened the door.

She looked up at him, the child in her arms. She did not scream. She did not run. Because she trusted him — the way the whole village trusted him. The way her brothers trusted him.

He took the child from her arms. She let him. Why wouldn’t she? He was the holiest man she knew. Then he turned to her. She saw it in his eyes before he moved. He killed her. And then he looked down at the child — his own child, that had not taken a single step in this world. And he killed the child too.

He carried them to the edge of the village. Dug into the earth with his own hands. Covered them. Patted the ground flat. Then he went back inside, washed his hands, lay down, and stared at the ceiling in silence. But across the desert, three brothers had already begun the journey home.

The Dream

The brothers came home. Dusty. Tired. Alive. They went straight to Barseesa. “Where is our sister?”

He looked them in the eyes — the same eyes that had trusted him more than anyone in the world — and said: “She fell ill while you were gone. One day she stopped coming for the food. By the time I checked, it was too late. I buried her with dignity.” And because he was the most pious man in the village, they believed him.

But that night the first brother saw a dream. A figure standing over two graves at the edge of the village, and a voice: “He is lying to you. Dig.” The second brother saw the same dream. The third saw it too.

At dawn each described the same place, the same voice, the same two graves. Silence filled the room. They walked to the edge of the village. They dug. Two bodies. One small.

They dragged Barseesa before the ruler. The people who once looked at him with reverence now could not look at him at all. The ruler sentenced him to death. They tied his hands, put a rope around his neck. And Barseesa stood there with nothing to say. But Shaytan had one last thing to say.

The Smile

The rope was around his neck. The village was watching. Then a man stepped forward — a face Barseesa had never seen — and walked calmly through the crowd until he stood right in front of him. “Do you know who I am?” Barseesa shook his head.

“I am the one who brought you here. Every step. Every whisper. Every thought you believed was your own was mine. I am Shaytan.” Barseesa’s blood went cold. “Then get away from me. You have already destroyed me.”

Shaytan did not move. “I can save you. I brought you to this rope — I can take you off it. One bow, Barseesa. Not to Allah. To me. Just one. Bow your head… and I will set you free.”

“My hands are tied. I cannot bow.” “You do not need your hands. Just lower your eyes. Drop your gaze to me. That is enough.” And the man who had raised his eyes to no one but Allah… dropped his gaze. His neck followed. And that was his sajdah to Shaytan. The moment he did, death took him.

Shaytan stepped back, looked at the body, and said — calmly, with no malice at all: “I am free of you. Indeed, I fear Allah, Lord of the worlds.”

He always feared Allah. He never stopped. Every whisper, every inch — he knew exactly what he was doing. His job was never to disbelieve himself. His job was to make YOU disbelieve.

كَمَثَلِ ٱلشَّيْطَٰنِ إِذْ قَالَ لِلْإِنسَٰنِ ٱكْفُرْ ۖ فَلَمَّا كَفَرَ قَالَ إِنِّى بَرِىٓءٌ مِّنكَ إِنِّىٓ أَخَافُ ٱللَّهَ رَبَّ ٱلْعَٰلَمِينَ

“Like Shaytan, when he says to man: Disbelieve. But when he disbelieves, he says: Indeed I am free of you; I fear Allah, Lord of the worlds.”

Surah Al-Hashr 59:16