diff --git a/falahcast-e19-published.md b/falahcast-e19-published.md
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--- a/falahcast-e19-published.md
+++ b/falahcast-e19-published.md
@@ -69,3 +69,9 @@ sweep (`wmj/mautic-mcp-server`, `wmj/ihya-migration-test`) via
 `PATCH /api/v1/repos/{owner}/{repo}` with `{"archived": true}` —
 reversible, non-destructive. `falah-mobile`'s earlier "partial API
 response" flag turned out to be a non-issue on re-check (69KB, healthy).
+
+## Episode 22 — Madinah / al-Farabi's Virtuous City
+
+**Live:** https://iqra.falahos.my/madinah-twice-the-covenant-and-the-virtuous-city/
+
+Same pipeline. Bridges to Ibn Ata'illah's Kitab al-Hikam (aphorisms) next.
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+Assalamualaikum, and welcome back to Falah Cast,
+
+Yesterday, we walked through Sejarah Melayu—the Malay Annals—where daulat is not just power, but a sacred trust, and where a people curates its own memory the way a careful hand arranges heirlooms: not to freeze the past, but to keep it alive. And we ended with a promise to move—from the memory of Melaka to the dream of the ideal city.
+
+So today, let's step into a city that arrives through two doors with the same name.
+
+The first door opens onto dust and sunlight, onto the sound of sandals on dry earth. We enter Madinah al-Munawwarah—Madinah, the radiant city—where history is not theory. It is lived. It is argued over, negotiated, prayed through, repaired. It is a place where people are still learning how to be a people.
+
+Imagine it: not a marble capital, not an empire's center, but a town of farms and palm groves, of clans and old rivalries, of guests and strangers. A place of Ansar who open their homes, and Muhajirun who arrive carrying loss in their ribs. A place where the Prophet ﷺ is not only leading prayer, but stitching together a society.
+
+And one of the most remarkable stitches is not a sword or a speech, but a document: what we often call the Constitution of Medina.
+
+It's easy to say that phrase quickly—"the first constitution"—and turn it into a slogan. But slow down and feel what it implies. A constitution is not poetry. It's not a story you tell when things are easy. It's what you write when you know life is complicated, when people disagree, when power can tempt and fracture.
+
+In Madinah, the Prophet ﷺ does something quietly revolutionary: he frames a pluralist covenant among different tribes and faiths—Muslims, Jews, and others bound by mutual obligations. Not identical beliefs. Not uniform culture. But shared responsibility.
+
+It's a city trying to answer a question that every society eventually must face: How do we live together without erasing each other? How do we build a "we" that isn't just a loud "me" wearing a bigger mask?
+
+The Constitution of Medina sketches an answer: you can belong through covenant. Through rights and duties. Through protection of life and property. Through the idea that justice is not optional—especially when conflict appears, as it always does.
+
+You can almost see it unfolding in real time. Disputes brought forward. Blood-feuds cooled into law. Old tribal reflexes challenged by a new moral gravity. Madinah as a living experiment: the city as a promise under strain.
+
+And this is the first entrance: Madinah as a historical reality—messy, diverse, sunlit, strained, luminous.
+
+Now let the scene fade.
+
+Centuries pass.
+
+The second door opens not onto palm groves, but onto a room filled with books. A quieter city—made of ink. We are no longer in the Prophet's Madinah ﷺ, but in the Madinah of an imagination shaped by philosophy.
+
+Here sits Abu Nasr al-Farabi.
+
+If the first Madinah smelled like earth and dates, this one smells like paper and lamp oil. Al-Farabi is far from the dust of Arabia now—he lives in the long afterlife of translation: Greek texts carried into Arabic, arguments migrating across languages the way birds cross seas.
+
+And you can picture him with Aristotle and Plato open before him. Not reading them as museum pieces, but as living challenges.
+
+Because here is the puzzle he's trying to solve: The Greeks built grand philosophies of politics—what makes a city just, what makes a ruler legitimate, what makes a life worth living. But al-Farabi is not Greek, and he is not living in Athens. He is living in an Islamic world where revelation exists, prophecy exists, law exists, worship exists. So what does it mean to speak of the "ideal city" here—under the shadow, and the light, of Madinah?
+
+His answer becomes one of the great works of Islamic political philosophy: al-Madina al-Fadila—the Virtuous City.
+
+In al-Farabi's hands, the city is not merely buildings and markets. It is a body. A living organism.
+
+Every part of that body has a function. Some limbs move, some perceive, some protect, some nourish. And the city is healthy only when these functions align toward the true good—not just wealth, not just security, not just pride, but a deeper flourishing: the perfection of the human being.
+
+And at the center of this body is the ruler.
+
+Not as a tyrant, not as a celebrity, not as a mere administrator. Al-Farabi describes the ideal leader in almost cosmic terms—like a "first cause," the way a foundational principle gives order to everything that follows. Or like a physician of souls—someone who understands what makes people sick inside: greed, confusion, fear, false beliefs, broken desires.
+
+Because for al-Farabi, politics is not just about roads and taxes. It's about belief and action—what people hold to be true, and how they live because of it.
+
+In the Virtuous City, citizens share true beliefs and right practice. Their cooperation is not just transactional; it is moral. Their unity is not merely tribal; it is oriented toward goodness.
+
+And if that sounds intense—almost too ideal—it is because al-Farabi is writing in the space between aspiration and disappointment. The very need to describe a Virtuous City hints that many real cities are not virtuous. They are fractured, performative, corrupt, confused. People cooperate for profit, not for truth. Leaders heal appearances, not hearts.
+
+So al-Farabi maps the alternatives, too: ignorant cities that chase pleasure, cities that worship wealth, cities that chase power like a mirage. Cities where the "good" is reduced to whatever the crowd claps for. Cities where people still live together, but only by habit and force—not by shared vision.
+
+And here, we begin to see the throughline between our two doors.
+
+Historical Madinah was not an abstract utopia. It was a covenant in motion—a plural city learning how to hold together. It was revelation shaping social life, but also human beings stumbling, arguing, returning, repenting, rebuilding. It was the practical labor of justice.
+
+Al-Farabi's Madinah is centuries later, and it is philosophical—yet it is not born in a vacuum. It is built partly in that shadow. The Prophet's city ﷺ remains an archetype in the Islamic imagination: a place where leadership was not merely control, but moral guidance; where law was not merely punishment, but protection; where belonging was not merely bloodline, but covenant.
+
+Al-Farabi takes Greek political architecture—Plato's Republic, Aristotle's ethics and governance—and he translates it into an Islamic register. But he does not simply "Islamize" Greek ideas like decorating a borrowed house.
+
+He asks: what if the aim of the city is not just order, but felicity—sa'adah—true happiness? What if the best ruler is not just wise, but also connected to the highest truths? What if politics is about cultivating souls?
+
+And in that question, you can feel the ache of someone trying to rescue public life from becoming shallow.
+
+Because cities always drift toward noise. Toward slogans. Toward convenience. Toward power for its own sake.
+
+Al-Farabi is insisting: no—your city has a soul. And if that soul is sick, no amount of prosperity will save it.
+
+But now, let me bring us back to the intimate scale.
+
+We started with Madinah as a community held by covenant. Then we entered Madinah as a philosophical ideal held by truth.
+
+And perhaps the quiet lesson is this: every "city" is built twice.
+
+Once with hands—laws, agreements, markets, institutions, habits.
+And once with hearts—beliefs, virtues, intentions, the inner architecture that decides what a people will tolerate, and what a people will honor.
+
+Which means the ideal city is never only "out there." It is also "in here."
+
+And that's the bridge to where we're headed next.
+
+Because if today was about the architecture of the city—how a society is ordered toward the good—then next time, we move inward, toward the architecture of the inner life. From city-building to soul-building.
+
+In the next episode, we'll step into the luminous brevity of Ibn Ata'illah's Kitab al-Hikam—aphorisms that don't design streets and constitutions, but design the heart: the hidden motives, the quiet traps, the openings of sincerity, the pathways back to God.
+
+Until then—keep that double Madinah in mind: the city of dust and covenant, and the city of ink and ideals. Because somewhere between them is the question each of us inherits:
+
+What kind of world are we helping to build—and what kind of self are we becoming inside it?
+
+Assalamualaikum, and I'll see you in the next episode of Falah Cast.