Once upon a time, there was a kingdom in southern Arabia named Kinda. It was ruled by a blind but wise and benevolent old king and his son, Prince Walid. The Prince was blessed in every way—handsome, intelligent, brave, a great warrior, a cultural leader, and a magnificent poet. In the opinion of all his people, the prince could do no wrong.
So a competition was arranged and the representatives of all the poets came forward and recited their master’s work. The poems had to be quasidas, poems in three parts, telling of the loss of the poet’s beloved, his journey through the desert seeking her, and his praise of and homage to an important person. And though the prince’s poem was very beautiful, the contest was won by a poor carpet weaver. The prince was stunned. But he decided to hold a second contest. The results were the same, and afterwards, the prince went to the head judge for an explanation. “Your poem is perfect, noble prince, but the carpet weaver’s poem is more. He has made a poem that has an inner beauty and substance yours does not have. His poems shows his heart, his soul.”
For every action there is a reaction. Life returns to us what we give out, whether it is good or evil. And for doing wrong, we always have to pay the price. Walid was about to learn how he would have to pay and pay and pay for his revenge.