"What about a satiric fable like the cla.s.sic 'Kalila and Dimna'?" Kamal asked himself. This splendid thought drove away his resentment. "Lord, have I stumbled on an idea for a book I never thought of before?"

"Addressing readers is one thing; telling parents you're not fasting is something else."

Gesturing toward Kamal, Isma'il told Husayn, "Here's a philosopher who comes from a family deeply rooted in ignorance."

"You'll never be at a loss for companions to play and joke around with, but you'll never gain another friend for your spirit capable of conversing directly with it," Kamal told himself. "So be content with silence or with talking to yourself like a lunatic."

They were all quiet for a time. The garden was silent too, for there was no breeze. Only the roses, carnations, and violets seemed to be enjoying the heat. The sun had withdrawn its luminous gown from the garden, leaving only a hem trailing over the east wall.

Isma'il ended the silence by turning to Husayn Shaddad and asking, "Do you suppose you'll get a chance to visit Hasan Salim and Mrs. Ai'da?"

"My G.o.d!" Kamal exclaimed to himself "Is it just my heart pounding or has the end of the world begun in my breast?"

"After I'm settled in Paris, I'll definitely think of visiting Brussels". Stniling, he added, "We received a letter from Ai'da last week. It seems she's having morning sickness ."

"So pain and life are twins," Kamal thought. "I'm nothing but unadulterated pain in a man's clothes. Ai'da has a swelling belly awash with fluids . Is this one of life's tragedies or comedies? The most blessed event of our lives will be our extinction. I wish I knew the essence of this pain."

Isma'il Latif exclaimed, "Their children will be foreigners!"

"It's agreed that they'll be sent to Egypt when they're old enough."

"Will you find them one day in a cla.s.s of your students?" Kamal asked himself. "You'll wonder where you've seen those eyes. Your pounding heart will reply that they've been living inside you for a long time. If her little boy makes fun of your head and nose, will you have the heart to punish him? Forgetfulness, are you a legend too?"

Husayn went on: "She wrote at great length of her new life and didn't conceal her delight with it. In fact, she only said she missed her family to be polite."

"She was created for a life like this in one of those dream countries," Kamal reflected. "That she should partake of human nature was one more example of irreverent toying by the fates with things you hold sacred. Do you suppose it didn't occur to her to refer to her former friends in her chatty letter, not even with one word?

But how do you know she still remembers them?"

They were silent again. The sunset colors gradually began to turn a calm brown. A predatory kite could be seen circling in the distant sky. The barking of a dog reached them. Isma'il got a drink from the pitcher. Husayn started to whistle, while Kamal stealthily watched him with a placid face and a broken heart.

"The heat this year's dreadful". Isma'il said that and dried his lips with an embroidered silk handkerchief. Then he burped and put the handkerchief back in his pocket.

"Separation from loved ones is even more dreadful," Kamal reflected.

"When are you leaving for the beach?"

"At the end of June," Isma'il said with evident relief.

Husayn said, "We're going to Ra's al-Barr tomorrow. I'll stay there a week with my family. Then I'll go with my father to Alexandria, where I'll board the ship the thirtieth of June."

The history of an era would end, and perhaps a heart would die. Husayn gazed at Kamal for some time. Then he laughed and said, "We leave you with the country happily united in a coalition of political parties. Perhaps news of Egyptian independence will precede me to Paris."

Addressing Husayn but pointing at Kamal, Isma'il exclaimed, "Your friend's not too happy about the coalition. It rubs him the wrong way for Sa'd Zaghlul to hold hands with traitors. It's even harder on him that Sa'd's agreed to avoid conflict with the British by leaving the post of Prime Minister to his longtime foe Adli. So you'll find that his views are even more immoderate than those of his revered leader."

"The truce with former enemies and traitors is one more disappointment you have to swallow," Kamal told himself. "Is there anything in this world that has lived up to your hopes?"

But he laughed out loud and said, "This coalition wants to impose a deputy from the Liberal Party on our district."

The three of them roared with laughter. A frog hopped into sight and then quickly disappeared in the gra.s.s. A breeze stirred, announcing the approach of evening. The clamor and commotion of the world encircling them began to diminish. The gathering would soon break up. That fact alarmed Kamal and made him look around to fill his eyes with the sights. Here for the first time he had experienced love. Here the angelic voice had sung out, "Kamal". Here the devastating conversation about hishead and nose had taken place. Here the beloved had leveled her accusations against him. Beneath this sky lay memories of emotions, feelings, and reactions. These could not be disturbed by any power weaker than one capable of bringing the desert to life and making it bloom. He soaked up all of this and took pains to remember the date, for events frequently seem not to have happened if the day, month, and year are not fixed.

"We appeal to the sun and moon for help in escaping from time's straight line when we wish to circle back and regain our lost memories, but nothing ever returns," brooded Kamal. "So break down and cry or dispel your worries with a smile."

Ismail Latif stood up and said, "The time's come for us to leave."

Kamal allowed Isma'il to embrace their friend first. Then his turn came, and they hugged each other at length. Kamal planted a kiss on Husayn's cheek and received one in return. The fragrance of the Shaddad family filled his nostrils. It had a gentle, zesty bouquet rare for a human being, like a puff of air from a dream that had circled in a sky replete with delights and pains. Kamal inhaled this scent until he grew tipsy. He was silent while he attempted to gain control of his emotions. All the same, his voice trembled when he said, "Till we meet again, even if it's not for a while."

106.

"THERE'S NO one here but the staff!"

"That's because the day's hardly over. The patrons usually arrive with the night. Does the emptiness of the place upset you?"

"Not at all. It encourages me to stay, especially since it's the first time."

"Barshere have the priceless advantage of being situated on a street frequented only by people in search of forbidden pleasures. No scolding critic will trouble your peace of mind. If someone you respect like your father or guardian stumbles upon you, he's more at fault than you are and more apt to pretend he doesn't know you, or even to flee if he can."

"The name of the street itself is scandalous."

"But that makes it safer than any other. If we go to a bar on Alfi, Imad al-Din, or even Muhammad Ali streets, we could be seen by a father, brother, uncle, or some other important person. But they don't come here to Wajh al-Birka, hopefully."

"That makes sense, but I'm still uncomfortable."

"Be patient. The first step's always difficult, but alcohol's the key to joy. I promise you'll find the world a sweeter and more charming place by the time we depart."

"Tell me about the different kinds of drinks. What should I start with?"

"Cognac's strong. If it's mixed with beer, a person drinking it's as good as gone. Whiskey has an acceptable taste and produces excellent effects. Raisin liqueur "

"That should be the most enjoyable! Haven't you heard Salih sing 'He poured me raisin liqueur'?"

"For a long time I've told you the only thing wrong with you is that you live in a fantasy world. Raisin liqueur's the worst drink of all, no matter what Salih says. It tastes like anise and upsets my digestion. Don't interrupt."

"Sorry!"

"Then there's beer, but that's a hot-weather drink, and, praise G.o.d, it's September. There's wine too, but its effect is like a slap from a Ditch."

"So so it's whiskey."

"Braao! For a long time I've had great hopes for you. Perhaps you'll soon agree you have an even greater apt.i.tude for fun than for truth, goodness, beauty, nationalism, humanitarianism, and all the other fancy items over which you've pointlessly exhausted your heart". He called the waiter and ordered two whiskeys.

"The wisest thing would be for me to stop after one gla.s.s."

"That might be wise, but we didn't come here in search of wisdom. You'll learn for yourself that delirium's more pleasant than wisdom and that there's more to life than books and thought. Remember this day and don't forget who's to thank for it."

"I don't want to pa.s.s out. I'm afraid ofthat."

"Be your own physician."

"For me the important thing is to find the courage to walk down that alley with no hesitation and to enter one of those houses when I need to ."

"Drink till you feel unconcerned about going in one."

"Fine. I hope I won't live to regret what I've done."

"Regret? I asked you repeatedly, but you excused yourself on religious grounds. Then you proclaimed you'd stopped believing in religion. So I renewed my invitation but was amazed to find you refusing in the name of morality. I must admit you finally bowed to logic."

Yes, at last he had after a long period of anxiety and apprehension, when he was torn between the ascetic skepticism of Abu al-Ala al-Ma'arri and the more hedonistic version of Umar al-Khayyam. He was naturally inclined toward the former doctrine, although it preached a stern and sober life, because of its compatibility with the traditions in which he had been raised. But before he had known what was happening, he had found his soul longing for annihilation. A mysterious voice had whispered in his ear, "There's no religion, no Aida, and no hope. So let death come". At that juncture, al-Khayyam had appealed to him, using this friend as an intermediary, and Kamal had accepted their invitation. All the same, he had retained his lofty principles by broadening the range of meaning for "goodness" to include all the joys of life. He had told himself, "Belief in truth, beauty, and humanity is merely the highest form of goodness. For this reason, the great philosopher Ibn Sina concluded each day of deep thought with drinks and beautiful women. In any case, only a life like this offers an alternative to death."

"I agreed, but I haven't abandoned my principles."

"Well, I'm sure you haven't abandoned your fantasies. You've lived with them so long they seem truer to you than reality itself. There's nothing wrong with reading or even writing, if you can find readers. But make writing a way of obtaining fame and fortune. Don't take it too seriously. You were intensely religious. Now you're intensely agnostic. But you've always been intensely concerned, as though you were responsible for all mankind. Life's not nearly that complicated. Get a government position you like, one providing an acceptable standard of living, and enjoy the pleasures of life with a heart free from cares. Be strong and a.s.sertive when you need to, and you'll find your honor protected, your success ensured. If this life's compatible with religion, then be proud of that and enjoy it. If it's not, then religion's at fault."

"Life's too profound and vast to be reduced to one activity, not excluding happiness," Kamal told himself. "Pleasure's my recreation, but ascending rugged mountains is still my objective. Aida's gone. So I must create a new A'ida exemplifying everything she meant to me. Otherwise you should abandon life with no regrets."

"Don't you ever give any thought to values that transcend human life?"

"Ha! I've been distracted from all that by life itself, or more precisely by my life. No one in my family's an atheist, and no one's overly devout. I'm that way too."

"A friend's as necessary a part of life as time for relaxation," Kamal advised himself. "He's odd-looking too and linked to your memories of Aida. So his place in your heart's guaranteed. He knows his way around these lively alleys. A tyrant if you defy him, he's at home with pleasures and avoids serious issues. He has no time for spiritual concerns. Your intellectual and spiritual companion has vanished overseas. Fuad al-Hamzawi's bright but has no taste for philosophy. He's self-centered even in the appreciation of beauty. From literature, he desires eloquence to use in drafting legal briefs. Who can ever replace Husayn for me?"

The waiter arrived and placed on the table two tall gla.s.ses with polygonal bases. Opening a bottle of soda, he poured some into the gla.s.ses, transforming their golden liquid into platinum encrusted with pearls. Then he set out plates of salad, cheese, olives, and bologna before leaving. Kamal looked back and forth from his gla.s.s to the smiling Isma'il, who said, "Do as I do. Start with a big swig. To your health!"

Kamal was content to take a sip and savor it. Then he waited expectantly, but his mind did not take flight as he had antic.i.p.ated. So he took a big drink and picked up a piece of cheese to dispel the strange taste spreading through his mouth.

"Don't rush me!"

"Haste is from the devil. The important thing's for you to be ready for what you want when you leave here."

What did he want? Was it one of those women who inspired disgust and aversion when he was sober? Would alcohol sweeten the bitter sacrifice of his dignity? He had once fought off instinct by appealing to religion and to Ai'da. Now instinct was free to express itself. But there was another incentive for this adventure. He wanted to investigate woman, the mysterious species that included Ai'da herself. Perhaps this investigation would provide some consolation for sleepless nights when tears were shed secretly. It might give some compensation for b.l.o.o.d.y torment curable only by despair or by a loss of consciousness. He could now say he had emerged from the confining cell of resignation to take a first step along the road to freedom, even if this road was paved with inebriation and bordered by pa.s.sions and other reprehensible things. He drank again and waited. Then he smiled. His insides celebrated the birth of a new sensation, one exuding warmth and sensuality. Kamal responded with abandon, as though reacting to a beautiful melody.

Isma'il, who was watching him closely, smiled and said, "If only Husayn were here to witness this."

"Where is Husayn?" Kamal wondered silently. "Where?"

"I'll write him about it myself. Have you answered his last letter?"

"Yes. I sent him a note as brief as his."

Husayn wrote long letters only to Kamal. They were so extensive that every thought was recorded. This great happiness was exclusively Kamal's, but he was obliged to keep it secret, for he did not want to arouse his coach's envy.

"His letter to me was brief too, except for the kind of discussion you know we enjoy but you don't."

"Thought!" Then Isma'il laughed. "What need doeshe have for it? He'll inherit a fortune big enough to fill an ocean. So why'she infatuated with such gibberish? Is it an affectation or conceit or both?"

"It's Husayn's turn to come in for a pounding," Kamal reflected. "I wonder what you say about me behind my back."

"Contrary to what you think, there's no conflict between thought and wealth. Philosophy flourished in ancient Greece when some gentlemen were able to devote themselves to learning because they weren't preoccupied by earning a living."

"Your health, Aristotle."

He drained the rest of his gla.s.s and waited expectantly. He wondered whether he had ever experienced a state like this before. A discharge of psychic heat raced off through his veins. As it progressed, it swept away the crannies where grief's residue had collected. The sorrow sealing his soul's vessel dissolved. Out flew singing birds of gaiety. One was the echo of a moving tune, another the memory of a promising hope, and yet another the shadow of a fleeting delight. Alcohol was the elixir of happiness.

"What would you think of ordering two more drinks?"

"May your life last longer than mine ". Isma'il laughed out loud and summoned the waiter with the flick of a finger. Then he said with relief, "You're quick to recognize a good thing."

"I have my Lord to thank for that."

The waiter brought two more drinks and fresh appetizers. Customers started to flock in, some in fezzes, some in hats, and others in turbans. The waiter welcomed them by wiping off the tabletops with a towel. Since night had fallen and the lamps had been lit, the mirrors on the walls flashed with reflections of Dewar's and Johnnie Walker bottles. Outside in the street laughter reverberated like the call to prayer, but this summons was to debauchery. Smiling glances of tolerant disapproval were directed at the table occupied by the two adolescent friends. A shrimp seller from Upper Egypt entered the bar. He was followed by a woman with two gold teeth who was selling peanuts, a man offering to shine the customers' shoes, and a kabob vendor who was also a pimp, as the greetingshe received from the men demonstrated.

Finally there was an Indian palm reader. Soon nothing washeard except "To your health" and scattered laughter.

In a mirror adjacent to hishead, Kamal saw his own flushed face and his gleaming, smiling eyes. Behind his reflection, he saw that of an elderly man, who raised his drink and rinsed his mouth with a rabbitlike twitch before swallowing. In an audible voice, this gentleman told a companion, "Rinsing my mouth with whiskey's a habit I acquired from my grandfather, who died drunk."

Turning away from the mirror, Kamal told Isma'il, "We're a very conservative family. I'm the first to taste alcohol."

Isma'il shrugged his shoulders scornfully and said, "How can you ofler opinions about something you've never observed? Were you there to see what your father did in his youth? My father has a gla.s.s with lunch and another with dinner, but he's stopped drinking outside the house or that's what he tells my mother."

The elixir of the G.o.d of happiness stealthily gained entry into the kingdom of the spirit. This strange transformation happened in moments. Unaided, mankind could not have achieved it in countless generations. All in all, it provided a dazzling new meaning for the word "enchantment". Amazingly Kamal did not find it a totally new sensation. His spirit had experienced this briefly once before; but when, how, and where? It was an inner music performed by the spirit. Normal music was like the apple's peel, while this music was the tasty fruit. What could be the secret of this golden liquid that accomplished such a miracle in only a few moments? Perhaps it cleansed life's stream of foam and sediment, allowing the restrained current to burst forth with the absolute freedom and unsullied intoxication life had enjoyed at the very beginning. When liberated from the body's noose, society's shackles, past memories, and fears for the future, this natural feeling of life's forward thrust becomes a clear, pure music, distilled from and exciting emotion.

"I've felt something like this pa.s.s through my spirit before," Kamal told himself. "But when, how, and where? Oh, what a memory it was love! The day she called out, 'Kamal,' that intoxicated you before you knew what intoxication was. Admit your long history with inebriation. You've been rowdy for ages, traveling pa.s.sion's drunken path, which is strewn with flowers and sv/eet herbs. That was before the transparent drops of dew were trampled into the mud. Alcohol's the spirit of love once love's inner lining of pain is stripped away. So love and grow intoxicated or get drunk and experience love."

"In spite of everything you've said and reiterated, life's beautiful."

"Ha-ha. You're the one who's been doing the saying and reiterating."

The warrior planted a sincere kiss on the cheek of his foe. Then peace settled over the earth. Perched on a leafy bough, the bulbul warbled. Lovers throughout the inhabited world were ecstatic. Stopping at Paris on the way, desires flew from Cairo to Brussels, where they were received with affection and songs. The sage dipped the point of his pen in hisheart's ink and recorded a divine revelation. Then the seasoned man retreated into old age, although a tearful memory inspired a hidden springtime in his breast. Like the black cloth covering of the Kaaba in Mecca, the strands of black hair on her forehead sheltered a shrine toward which drunkards in the taverns of love directed their prayers.

"Give me a book, a drink, and a beautiful woman. Then throw me in the sea."

"Ha-ha. The book will spoil the effect of the drink, the beautiful woman, and the sea."

"We don't agree on the meaning of pleasure. You think it's fun and games. To me it's something extremely serious. This captivating intoxication is the secret of life and its ultimate goal. Alcohol's only the precursor and the symbol for it. In a similar fashion, a bird like the kite was the forerunner of the airplane and observation of fish was a first step in the invention of the submarine. Thus wine's a necessary scout for human happiness. The question boils down to this: How can we turn life into a perpetual state of intoxication without resort to alcohol? We won't find the answer through debate, productivity, fighting, or exertion. All those are means to an end, not ends in themselves. Happiness will never be realized until we free ourselves from the exploitation of any means whatsoever. Then we can live a purely intellectual and spiritual life untainted by anything. This is the happiness for which alcohol provides us a representation. Every action could be a way of obtaining this. If it's not, it serves no end."

"May G.o.d devastate your home."

"Why?"

"I hoped I'd find you a charming, witty conversationalist when drunk. But you're like a sick man whose malady only becomes more severe with drink. I wonder what you'd talk about if you had a third drink?"