He was born in Herat, in the year 881 Hijri or 1476 AD. He is nicknamed the Qibla of the calligraphers. He was an Imam in a class of calligraphers, a skilled, highly important artist, he defined the rules of Taaliq (Farisi). Sultan Ali al Katib al-Mashady said in his poem in Farsi:

نسخ تعليق اكر خفي وجليست واضع الأصل خواجه مير عليست

Taaliq is also called “Nastaaliq” which means that at Mir Ali’s time, they were using Taaliq to copy most writings and letters, so it became known as Naskh Taaliq, and then many started calling it Nastaaliq, lightening it by omitting the foreign letter khaa.

It is said that the reason behind his invention of the new script was that he asked the Most High one day to favor him with the gift to create a new script. That night Ali bin Abi Talib (may God be pleased with him) visited him in his sleep, and told him to look carefully at a flock of a particular type of fowl, a duck in fact. And he took from their forms the rules of the new script he is known for.

Mir Ali derived Taaliq script from all the parts of the duck, making each letter a suitable shape: turning, hollowing out, curving, and extending the length, width, and breadth, the thick and the thin, the close and the near, where to grow, where to shrink etc… He was in fact unique in his time, alone in his era in this fine art. He has a lofty position and a deserved fame. Of course, he also introducted to this style many of the calligraphic geniuses that would come after him.

Mir Ali of Herat was a writer of poetry and prose, attracting attention. He stopped writing poetry under the name Katib because he was of Turkish origin and had some Turkish verse. He prepared the most calligraphers in Nastaliq before artistic support came, and he used to sign his writings or his calligraphy scattered here and there in the museums of the world as “Ali,” “poor Ali,” “Mir Ali,” “Ali al-Katib,” “Ali Sultani,” “Ali Husseini,” “Mir Ali al-Katib,” “Mir Ali Sultani,” “Ali Harwi (Herati),” “Ali Husseini Harwi,” “Ali al-Katib al-Sultani,” and that of course paved the way for a mix-up with him and other calligraphers.

He had many students that were raised by his hand. Among the names worth mentioning are Mir Mahmoud Baqir, Sir Mahmoud Shahabi, Mir Said Ahmed, Mir Hussein Bukhari, and Mir Jumla.

He died 951 Hijri, 1544 AD and was buried in Bukhara.

Taken from the book “Tarikh al-Khat al-Arabi wa Ialaam al-Khatateen” History of Arabic Calligraphy and Information About Calligraphers, by Ahmed Sabry. Translated by Josh Berer.

Abu Qays rested his chest on the damp ground, and the earth started to beat underneath him: the beats of a tired heart moving through the grains of shaking sand, then crossing into his cells. Every time he layed his body on the dirt, he felt that heartbeat, as though the heart of the Earth was still, since he layed there the first time, blazing a difficult path to light, from the deepest depths of hell. When he said that, once, to his neighbor with whom he shared a field, there in the land he left ten years ago, he answered him sarcastically:
“That’s the sound of your heart you hear when you stick your body to the ground.” What nonsense. And the smell, then? The smell that, if he inhaled, would swell in his brow and then disappate into his veins? Anyone who smelled the smell of the earth as he layed upon it would imagine he was smelling the hair of his wife, after she had come out of the shower, and washed her hair with cold water. That smell, the smell of a woman washed with cold water who has then spread her hair out over his face, no longer wet.
The heartbeat itself, it’s as though you’re holding a small bird between your two curving hands.
The damp earth, he thought, is no doubt whats left of yesterday’s rains. No, it didn’t rain yesterday. These days, the sky can’t rain anything but heat and dust. Have you forgotten where you are? Have you forgotten?

He turned his body around and laid on his back, cradling his head in his hands, and looked to the sky. It was white, and shining. There was a lone black bird soaring high in the sky, aimlessly. He didnt know why he was filled, suddenly with the stagnant feelings of the solitude of exile. It seemed, for a moment, that he was about to cry. No, it didn’t rain yesterday. We’re in Aab now. Have you forgotten? This flowing empty road, like a black eternity. Did you forget it? The bird was still sailing alone in the sky, a black dot on the glowing expanse above him. We’re in Aab! So, then, why is this moisture in the ground? It must be the coast! Did you not see it extended out as far as you can see in front of you?
“And where the two great rivers meet to form one great river that is the Shatt al-Arab, starting a little before Basra and extending to…”
Professor Saleem, the wizened, gaunt, and grey, said that ten times in his loud voice to a small child standing at the blackboard. He was a passerby, then, in front of the school in his village. He climbed a rock and started listening in at the window. Professor Saleem stood facing the small pupil and shouting at the top of his voice while shaking a long stick in his outstreched arm. “And when the two great rivers meet, the Tigris and Euprates…” The child was shaking with fright, which amused the rest of the students, who were laughing. He put out his hand and tapped a student on his head, who turned to see where he had been eavesdropping at the window. “What happened?”
The student laughed and answered him whispering, “Goat!”
He turned around and got down off the rock, finished his trip, the words of Professor Saleem still ringing in his ears, over and over: “and when the two great rivers meet…”

That night he saw Professor Saleem sitting in the hall of the headman, smoking a hookah. He had been sent to their village in Yaffo to teach the children. He had spent so much of his life teaching that the word ‘professor’ had become an inseperable part of his name. One of the men there that evening asked him, “You’re going to lead prayers this Friday, right?”
Professor Saleem answered him simply, “No, I am a teacher, not an Imam.”
The headman said to him, “What’s the difference? Our Teacher was an Imam.”
“He was a teacher of writers, I am a school teacher”
The headman replied, “What’s the difference?”

Professor Saleem didn’t answer, but glanced around the room as if calling for the help of someone present, despite the fact that all seated seemed confused by this, like the headman. After a long silent period, Professor Saleem cleared his throat and said in a clear voice, “Fine, I don’t know how to pray.”
“Don’t know how?”
The group gasped and Professor Saleem reiterated himself: “I dont know how!”

The people seated exchanged glances and then settled their gazes on the headman, who felt he must say something, so he pressed out without thinking, “So what do you know then?
It seemed as though Professor Saleem had been expecting a question such as this, but he replied quickly while getting up, “Many things. How to shoot, for example.” He got to the door and turned around. His gaunt face was shaking. “If you are attacked, wake me up. You may find me useful.”

Here was the coast Professor Saleem had spoken of 10 years ago!
May you rest in peace, Professor Saleem, may you rest in peace. No doubt it was God favoring you when he took you one night before the fall of the poor city at the hands of the Jews. One night only, my God.

Is there divine comfort greater than this? It’s true that men were working at burying you, and welcoming your death, but you stayed there, stayed there, you saved yourself humiliation and debasement, and saved your years from shame. May you rest in peace, Professor Saleem. You see that if you lived poverty would sink you like it sunk me. Would you do what I’m doing now? Would you be carrying all your years over your back and escaping across the desert to Kuwait just to find a morsel of bread?

-Ghassan Kanafani

from the book An Anthology of Arabic Literature, Culture, and Thought, From Pre-Islamic Times to the Present, by Bassam K. Frangieh

Translated by Josh Berer

The Girl and the Lion

One day, a merchant wanted to travel to buy merchandise he needed for his business. He brought together his three daughters before his trip to ask each one what gift she would like him to bring her when he returns from his trip.

The oldest said, “Father, please bring me a necklace of precious pearls.” The middle one said, “Father please buy me a gold watch with a beautiful band.” The youngest said, “dear father, please

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bring me a while rose.”
She wanted it not to cost her father a thing, and not to burden him with her request, like those of her two older sisters.

She had, at all times, great taste, and was a lover of flowers of all types. She didn’t notice that it was winter time, and the weather was intensely cold, and there was snow everywhere, layers of snow on the trees, and the lakes were frozen. It wasn’t easy to get a white rose at that time of the year. There were no planes at that time to take flowers from warm areas to cold ones, as happens now.

There also no greenhouses, warmed with generated heat in which to grow flowers and trees in cold countries, as happens

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today. She didn’t know that the flower she asked for would be the cause of much sadness for her and her father in the future.

The youngest daughter was the most beautiful of the three, and the most emotionally sensitive. Her father had already firmly decided to take pains in order to get the flower his daughter had asked for.

The merchant kissed his wife and three daughters, they kissed him and then they bid each other farewell. He took a personal servant with him on his trip. The merchant then went on his journey

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to buy merchandise from another country.

After he had purchased the merchandise he needed, he thought of returning to his country and his house, and so he bought the oldest daughter the gift she had wanted, and he got the middle daughter the watch she liked, and started looking in every garden for a rose for
his beloved daughter, but didn’t find one.

He continued to repeat the question and kept looking while he was returning from his trip, whenever he would see a garden, hoping he would find the flower his daughter had wanted. People were surprised by his strange question, and answered him saying, “do you think the flower will appear in snow, with intensely cold weather, when the temperature has dropped below zero?” The merchant was hurt whenever he heard this rational answer, and rational assumption. His sadness increased

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because he couldn’t realize the desire of his youngest daughter, for it was a simple desire, with no cost during warm seasons when there were many flowers.

Her father continued traveling on his path, his mind troubled, worrying because of the rose he had wished to find to bring to his daughter, until he saw a big castle, surrounded by a strange garden. It was vast, and split into two parts. In the first section, one would find the weather warm, like the summer, with green leafy trees and see many beautiful flowers, of many different types. In the second section, one would find white trees, covered in a layer of snow and without leaves, and see no trace of flowers. The weather there was winter weather, where water freezes and snow falls.

The merchant was surprised by this strange view, and to find two different climates

at one time, and to find two gardens, one summer and one winter in the same castle. Then he looked at his servant and said to him, “What good luck, to find this summer garden in this castle! It appears this garden is heated artificially at this time of year, for I see many pretty trees and flowers. I’m going to ask permission from the gardener and pick one white rose.

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The servant went, and they shouted [for the gardener] in the garden, and didn’t meet anyone, so the servant picked a white rose from a rose bush, gave it to his master, and the merchant was very happy. So the two rose off on the road, happy with their rare gift.

After a little while, they saw a wild lion running behind them and roaring a terrifying roar, and gaining upon them. The lion said to the merchant, “how dare you steal that rose without permission?”

The merchant answered him by saying, “we called and tried to get permission from the gardener, but we didn’t find anyone to ask! I am so, so sorry, I didn’t know it was your garden!”

The lion said, “you’ve already taken the flower, and stolen from my garden, so I am determined to kill you.”

The merchant said, “I beg you to forgive me for this offense, and not kill me,

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I’m prepared to give you whatever you want, no matter the cost.”

The lion said, “I do not want money. I’m not going to let you go alive unless you promise me a firm promise: that you’ll give me the first thing that greets you when you return home”

The merchant didn’t know what to do. He began to think before he agreed to the conditions imposed upon him by the lion, so he said to himself, “My little girl might remember to run out to welcome me when I return home, because she loves me so much. What do I do if she greets me, for she is the dearest thing I have in this life.

The servant made the issue easier for his master. Fearing for his life, he said “maybe the dog or the cat will be the first thing to greet you when you get home.”

The merchant was forced to agree to this condition, and promised to give the lion

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whatever greeted him first when he arrived home. The lion agreed, his heart untame.

The merchant took the flower with him and the lion returned to his garden and the merchant went on his way until he returned to his house.

Then the youngest daughter heard the sound of her father’s voice she quickly ran to greet him, delighted by his safe return. She kissed him and welcomed him. She was the first to greet him, unluckily.

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When she saw that he had brought her the flower she wanted, her joy and happiness in seeing her father increased, delighted with the rare and beautiful gift her father brought her. She didn’t know what was waiting for her as a result of this flower.

While her joy was increasing, so was her father’s sadness and grief. He started to say, “I am so sorry my dear daughter, for I bought this flower with something that isn’t worth money or jewels, the price is extremely expensive,

She asked him, “why do I see you sad, Father? What is the price you want?”

He answered her, “I’m sad for you, scared for your life. I promised a ferocious lion that I would give him the first thing that greeted me when I got home. That is the price of this flower. I fear he will eat you if he sees you.” He then told her everything that had happened, and he was determined that she not go, to [not] let happen what would happen.

She made the issue easier for him, saying, “calm down, Father, don’t be sad at all, and don’t fear for me. I’m calm, and good sense and good thinking will overcome this. Harm won’t touch me. You can keep your promise and let me go. Don’t worry about me, I’ll get the better of this, and make him let me come home safe to you, God Willing.

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Her father was surprised by her thinking, cleverness, and agreement to fulfill his promise. He let her go, and put the matter in God’s hands.

The next morning, she said goodbye to her father and asked him the way to go, and got ready. She left her family and went out, her heart full of bravery and courage.

The lion was a sorcerer prince and would change himself and the men and servants around him into lions during the day, and in the evening they would become men and return to their original shapes before they were enchanted. When the girl arrived at the castle, it was late afternoon, and the sorcerer prince greeted her in the form of a lion, and greeted her with politeness and respect. He started talking like a human would, and told her his life story. He then informed her that she was to be married, and she was pleased. At the very moment she agreed, the effects of the magic ended,

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and the prince returned to his natural human form. After a few days, there was a marriage party at the enchanted castle, and the newlyweds lived a happy life.

The prince continued to leave his spouse every morning, and be absent during the day, then return in the evening with his men, and his wife would greet him with all kindness.

One night he said to her, “Tomorrow your big sister is getting married,

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and they’ll celebrate the wedding with a great celebration at your father’s house. So if you want to go see your family and partake in the joy, it’s alright by me.”

The prince’s wife thanked him for his noble feelings, and then became very happy with this joyous news, and saw this as a chance to see her father and her family. She had been cut off from news of her family since she left, and everyone thought she was dead and the lion had torn her apart the day he saw her.

The sorcerer prince’s wife left for her trip, and her family relatives and friends welcomed her arrival with great joy. She reassured them, saying, “Don’t be afraid.”

She then told them her story and the story of her husband, and that she was extremely happy, and that her joy was now doubled: her joy, and the joy for her sister. She stayed until the end of the wedding party, then

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asked permission from her father to return to her husband, and bid her family farewell for her journey. Her father gave her permission, everyone bid her farewell, and she returned to the castle.

The sorcerer prince was very happy when happy upon his wife’s return, and gave her a hearty welcome. After a short time, they had a beautiful baby, and he was the joy of their lives.

One day, the prince and his wife received an invitation to the wedding of the second sister. She said to her husband, “This time I’m not going alone. Please come with me to see my whole family and participate in the joy together.”

He said to her, “I would love to go with you, and not be away from you, but my going there would be very dangerous. If any rays of light touch me during the party, my situation will turn bad, and my form will change, and I will become a white bird, like a dove. I will be forced