“At this stage in our history we are passing through the straits of death, enveloped by misery on every side. So let’s make use of those miseries as ammunition for our thoughts about the future. Ivory towers certainly have their particular delights, but for the time being we must resist our own egotistic tendencies.”
“So, while you’re busy rescuing the downtrodden from the pits of animal status, you’re sacrificing the humanity of intellectuals and destroying their spirits!”
“I specifically said, ‘for the time being.’ Just think of the wartime situation we’re now in, and the way that religious scholars — the most moral of people — have turned into outright criminals.”
“But you have your own store of outrageous ideas — the universe and the atom!”
For the first time Ahmad Rashid let out a loud laugh. The game players all looked up.
“You laughed!” said Boss Nunu. “So tell us what it’s about.”
The two of them said nothing, and eventually the game players went back to their games.
“Knowledge is indispensable for the true revolutionary,” the young lawyer went on, “not to bury ourselves in its contemplations but rather to liberate ourselves from the bonds of illusion and humbug. There was a period when religion was able to liberate us from idolatry, but now it’s the turn of science to liberate us from the bonds of religion.”
At this point, Sulayman Bey Ata lost his temper, a normal occurrence when he managed to lose a twenty in a game. Sayyid Arif decided to tangle with him. The whole thing soon degenerated into a vicious slanging match in which all the resident debauchees were eager to participate. Thus ended Ramadan’s first evening of conversation.
With the arrival of midnight Ahmad Akif stood up to go home.
“I’m going home too,” said Boss Nunu as he stood up. “I want to get my coat. The weather’s very wet and chilly close to dawn.”
They walked together.
“Why don’t you stay awake until dawn?” he asked Ahmad as they were walking.
“Between midnight and dawn I normally read,” Ahmad replied wearily.
“You read books?”
“Yes. That’s all I read.”
“What’s the point?”
“It’s my hobby, Boss Nunu!” Ahmad replied with a smile.
“But any hobby is supposed to have some point to it. Do books make you live longer? Stop you getting sick? Stave off the inevitable? Avoid hardship? Fill your pockets?”
By this point Ahmad was feeling so superior, he was thrilled. “I fully intend to write a book as well!” he went on with a smile.
“That’s even worse! Are you a journalist, or what?”
“Suppose I said yes?”
“Impossible!”
“Why?”
“Your parents are decent folk!”
That made Ahmad laugh so loud that it released all the evening’s dark tensions. “But I really am going to write a book,” he said.
“There are more books in the world than people. Just take a look at the Halabi Bookstore just below the Egyptian Club. It has so many books — good heavens! — if you stacked them all side by side, you’d have more than all the students at al-Azhar! Why go to all the bother of adding yet another title to the pile?”
“Okay, okay. But every book has its own qualities.”
“You should develop some other hobby that won’t cost you so much effort.”
“Such as what?”
“You don’t know? Have a guess.”
“I’ve no idea, Boss.”
“People call it Ramadan’s best entertainment and life’s greatest joy.”
“So what’s it called?”
“It comes out of the ground, but its true pasture is above the clouds.”
“Amazing!”
“You’ll find it either in a prison cell or by the Sultan’s throne.”
“There’s nothing in the world like that.”
“Craved by pauper and minister alike.”
“That much?”
“Consolation for the desolate, quaff for the merry.”
“How eager I am to make its acquaintance!”
“Just a tiny bit, and for every tight spot it’s fit.”
“That’s magic!”
“They’ve brought it from the land of the elephant for the delectation of the people of the Nile.”
“Are you serious?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of hashish?”
At the very mention of the word Ahmad started. For his part, the boss laughed.
“Oh, come on,” he said, “play along with me! Life’s full of things that give much more pleasure than books!”
Ahmad’s curiosity got the better of him. “Where?” he asked.
“If you agree and do me the honor,” the Boss continued, “I can take you there.”
“Aren’t you afraid of the police?”
“Let’s just say that I know how to keep them at bay. What about it?”
“That magical pastime doesn’t interest me at all. But thanks anyway, Boss.”
Back in his room he did his best to forget about his conversation with Nunu and his questionable pastimes. Instead he pictured Ahmad Rashid, the young lawyer, with all his complaints, enthusiasms, and violent gestures, and that made him feel angry, jealous, and vicious. He asked himself sadly how he could possibly have failed to absorb the world of modern knowledge, and how he would be able to fill in what he had missed. When would he be able to hold forth on Freud and Marx the way he could on the Brethren of Purity and Ibn Maymun? He spent some time pondering these issues and found it impossible to clear his mind for reading or even focus on it. Even so he stayed there, bent over his book without ever looking up. Such a posture — even when he felt distracted — was enough to convince him that his day would not have gone to waste by not acquiring some piece of culture, that being the thing he worried about the most. As a result an hour slipped by with his sense of superiority going through its own agonies.
Just then he had an idea, one that wafted its way into his heart like a gentle, moist breeze. It managed to douse the flames in his angry heart and leave it clean and fresh. He beamed. How lovely and joyful life would be, he thought to himself, if only chance and fate, coincidences and agreements, people and characters, all of the things he encountered could be like those two honey-colored eyes that exuded such sweet simplicity. Just then he recalled — somewhat to his own surprise — that Ramadan had long had a place of affection in his own heart. It had been in that month that his heart had first fluttered with love. Just like seeing the light of the world for the first time, it was a strange sensation, one that never again hits one with the same impact. It was then that he had seen the girl with whom he had wanted to share the rest of his life, but he had failed. Now here was Ramadan again, and once more his heart was brushing away the cold, dank fog from its surface in order to open up to rays of sunshine with their invigorating warmth. His mind was one of those that can find a piece of worldly wisdom in every little coincidence. Whereas other people might regard such things as mere coincidences with no real significance, for him they all contain hidden wisdom. That is why he now stared dreamily in front of him, his face a blank. Eyebrows raised, he opened his mouth. “So, Ramadan,” he whispered excitedly to himself, “what will you bring this time?”
12
Next afternoon he jumped up and stood in front of the mirror to shave, something he usually did only twice a week. Normally he was not bothered if people saw him unshaven, but now he had decided to change his ways; from now on, he was going to shave every day.