Kamal anxiously kept track of her excesses and cautioned her about the consequences. She answered him with a smile as though to say, "What would I do if I weren't drinking coffee?" In a confident and assured tone she told him, "There's nothing harmful about coffee."
They sat facing each other, she on the sofa between the doors to the bedroom and the dining room, Kamal on one between the entries to his bedroom and his study. She was bent over the coffeepot, which was half buried in the brazier's coals. He was silent and staring vacantly into space. Suddenly she asked, "What are you thinking about, I wonder? You always look as though you're thinking about something important."
He sensed the criticism in her tone and replied, "The mind constantly finds things to occupy it."
She looked up questioningly at him with her small, honey-colored eyes. Then she said somewhat shyly, "It's been ages since we found time for a conversation."
"Really?" he wondered. That past was gone forever - the era of religious lessons and stories about prophets and demons, when he had been insanely devoted to her. That era had come to an end. What would they discuss today? Except for meaningless chatter there was absolutely nothing for them to say to each [other. He smiled, as though to apologize for both past and future silences.
Then he said, "We talk to each other whenever we have something to discuss."
She replied gently, "People who want to talk set no limits on their conversations, but you seem always to be absent or absent-minded___"
After reflecting a bit she added, "You read a lot. You read as much during your vacation as when you're in school. You never get enough rest. I'm afraid you've worn yourself out."
In a tone that indicated he did not welcome this interrogation, Kamal answered, "There are many hours in a day. Spending a few of them reading won't wear anyone out. It's nothing but a pastime, even if it's a beneficial one."
After some hesitation she observed, "I'm afraid reading's the reason you seem so quiet and preoccupied…."
"No," he thought. "It's not reading. If only you knew how it distracts me from my discomfort". Something else had been absorbing him, and he could not escape from it even when he was reading. His was a condition without a cure that she or anyone else could provide. He was sick with love, devoted but at his wits' end, not knowing what to wish for beyond his suffering.
Slyly tie said, "Reading's like coffee. There's nothing harmful about it. Don't you want me to become a scholar like my grandfather?"
Delight and pride shone in her pale, oval face. She answered, "Of course. I wish that wholeheartedly, but I want to see you in good spirits all the time."
Smiling, he said, "I'm in as good spirits as you could wish. So don't trouble your mind with idle speculation."
He had noticed that her concern for him had increased in recent years more than was necessary or desirable. Her devotion, solicitude, and apprehension about anything that might harm him or that she imagined might - had begun to engage her mind to a degree that made him uncomfortable, prompting him to defend his freedom and dignity. Yet he never lost sight of this development's causes, which included Fahmy's death and the misery she had endured. Thus Kamal never overstepped the bounds of affection and politeness in defense of his independence.
"I'm happy to hear that from you, if it's really true. All I desire is your happiness. I prayed for you today at the shrine of our master al-Husayn. I hope God may answer my prayer."
"Amen."
He watched her raise the coffeepot to fill her cup for the fourth time. The corners of his mouth spread open in a faint smile. He remembered how a visit to the mosque of al-Husayn had once seemed an impossible dream for her. Now she visited it whenever she went to the cemetery or to see her two daughters on Sugar Street. But what an oppressive price she had paid for this limited freedom. He too nourished impossible dreams. What price would be exacted from him if he was to fulfill them? Yet, any payment, no matter how great, would seem insignificant if he could.
Emitting a forced laugh, he observed, "The visit to al-Husayn is certainly linked to unforgettable memories…."
Smiling, she felt her collarbone, which she had broken during her first trip there, and said, "And to lasting results."
With a modicum of enthusiasm Kamal said, "You're not a prisoner in the house as you once were. You've gained the right to visit Khadija, Aisha, and our master al-Husayn as often as you want. Imagine what you would have missed if Father had not relaxed the rules."
She looked up at him with confused embarrassment, for the reference to a distinction she had won as a result of losing a child troubled her. Then she bowed her head despondently, as if to say, "I wish I had remained as I was and kept my son". She did not air the feelings raging in her breast for fear of upsetting Kamal. Apologizing for the freedom she enjoyed, she said, "My occasional excursions are not for my entertainment. I go to al-Husayn to pray for you. I visit your sisters to reassure myself about them and to resolve the problems no one else seems able to handle."
He had no difficulty guessing which problems she meant. Knowing she had visited Aisha and Khadija that day, he asked, "Anything new at Sugar Street?"
Sighing, she answered, "The usual."
He shook hishead sadly. Then with a smile he remarked, "Khadija has a gift for quarreling."
Amina responded sorrowfully, "Her mother-in-law told me that any conversation with her threatens to end badly."
"It seems her mother-in-law is growing senile too."
"Her age is excuse enough. But what's your sister's excuse?"
"Did you side with her or with the truth?"
Amirta laughed in a way that suggested she knew only too well what he meant. She sighed again and said, "Your sister has a hot temperament. She is quick to bridle at even the most sincere advice. And woe to me if I'm polite to her mother-in-law out of respect for her age and status. Then she'll ask me with fiery eyes, 'Are you for me or against me?' There is no strength or might save from God. 'For me or against me!' Are we at war, son? Strangely enough, at times her mother-in-law is at fault, but Khadija carries the fight to such extremes that she ends up in the wrong."
[t would be impossible for anything to make Kamal angry at Khadija. She had been and still remained his second mother and an inexhaustible source of affection. How did his sister Aisha compare with her beautiful, giddy Aisha who had absorbed all the characteristics of the Shawkat family?
"What did the investigation reveal?"
"This time the argument began with the husband, and that's unusual. When I entered their quarters, they were having a violent dispute. I was amazed that something had agitated the good man and intervened to make peace. Then I learned the cause for all of it. She had made up her mind to dust the apartment, but he was still sleeping at nine. So she insisted on rousing him, and he woke up angry. Feeling obstinate for once, he refused to get out of bed. His mother heard the row and was quick to come. Then the fires Qared. This quarrel was scarcely concluded before another one broke out, because Ahmad returned from playing in the street with mud on his shirt. She hit him and wanted him to take a bath. The boy appealed to his father for help, and the man came to his rescue. So a second fight broke out in one morning."
Laug] ling, Kamal asked, "What did you do?"
"I tried my best but did not succeed. She scolded me for a long time because I had attempted to mediate. She told me, 'You should have taken my side the way she stood up for him.'"
Sighi ig a third time, she continued: "I told Khadija, 'Don't you remember how you saw me act when I was with your father?' She answered sharply, 'Do you think there's another man in the whole world like Father?'"
Uninvited, the vision of Abd al-Hamid Bey Shaddad and his wife, Satiiya Hanim, popped into Kamal's imagination. They were walking side by side from the veranda to their Minerva automobile, which was parked by the gate of the mansion. They did not seem a master and his servant but two equal friends conversing easily with each other, with her arm draped over his. When they reached the vehicle, the bey stepped aside to allow the lady to climb in first.
"Will you ever get to see your parents act like this?" he wondered. "What a silly idea!"
The couple walked with an air of distinction befitting the parents of his beloved. Although her mother was as old as his, she was wearing an expensive coat, which was a marvel of taste, elegance, and style. Her face was unveiled and attractive, although it did not compare with the angelic countenance of her daughter. There emanated from her a fragrant perfume and a captivating elegance. He wished he knew what they discussed and their manner of agreeing and disagreeing, if they ever did differ. He was eager to learn about this life, which was linked to his beloved's by the firmest ties and bonds.
"Do you remember," he asked himself, "how you gazed at her like a worshipper viewing great priests and high church dignitaries?"
He told his mother calmly, "If Khadija's character was more like yours, she would be assured a happy life."
She smiled with delight, although her pleasure ran afoul of a bitter truth - namely, that her disposition, no matter how mild, could not always guarantee her happiness. Then with the smile still on her lips to conceal her gloomy thoughts, which she was apprehensive he might detect, she said, "God alone is the guide. May our Lord make you even more sweet-tempered than you are, so you'll be a person loving others and loved by them."
He quickly asked her, "What do you think of me?"
With conviction she replied, "You're already like that and better."
"But how can angels love you?" he wondered. "Call up her blissful image and contemplate it a little. Can you imagine her unable to sleep or left prostrate by love and passion? That's too remote even for a fantasy. She's above love, for love is a defect remedied only by the loved one. Be patient and don't torment your heart. It's enough that you're in love. It's enough that you see her. Her image shines into your spirit and her dulcet tones send intoxicating delight through you. From the beloved emanates a light in which all things appear to be created afresh. After a long silence, the jasmine and the hyacinth beans begin to confide in each oth er. The minarets and domes fly up over the evening glow into the sky. The landmarks of the ancient district hand down the wisdom of past generations. The existential orchestra echoes the chirps of the crickets. The dens of wild beasts overflow with tenderness. Grace adorns the alleys and side streets. Sparrows of rapture chatter over the tombs. Inanimate objects are caught up in silent meditation. The rainbow appears in the woven mat over which your feet step. Such is the world of my beloved."
"I went by al-Azhar on my way to al-Husayn and ran into a large demonstration with people chanting slogans. It reminded me of the past. Has something happened, son?"
He answered, "The English do not wish to leave peacefully."
With a look of anger sparkling in her eyes she said sharply, "The English… those Englishmen! When will God's just vengeance fall on them?" She had felt a similar aversion to Sa'd Zaghlul himself for a long time, until Kamal had finally convinced her it was impossible to detest a person Fahmy had loved. With obvious anxiety she asked, "What do you mean, Kamal? Are we returning to the days of suffering?"
He replied resentfully, "Only God knows!"
Her discomfort was apparent in her facial contractions. She said, "May God preserve us from suffering. We'll leave them to the wrath of Almighty God. This is the best policy. To throw ourselves to destruction is madness. Let us take refuge with God."
"Don't alarm yourself. Death is inescapable. People die for one reason or another - or for none at all."
She responded indignantly, "I don't deny that what you say is true, but I dislike your tone."
"How should I talk?"
With compelling emotion she said, "I want you to state that you agree it's sinful for a man to risk his life."
Trying to hide his smile, he gave in: "I agree."
She looked at him skeptically and begged, "Say that with your heart, not your tongue."
"I'm speaking with my heart."
"What an enormous gap there is between ideal and reality, " Kamal thought. "You zealously strive for the ultimate in religion, politics, thought, and love, but mothers think only of their children's security. What mother would want to bury a son every five years? The quest for ideals in life necessarily requires sacrifices and martyrs. Body, mind, and spirit are sacrificed. Fahmy gave up a promising life in return for a magnificent death. Will you be able to meet death as heroically as he did? You would not hesitate to make this choice, even though that would crush your unfortunate mother'sheart. A death that would drain blood from one wound to stanch others… what a love it would be! Yes, but as you know', A'fda, the love between me and Budur is not ofthat kind. The truly amazing love is mine for you. It testifies on behalf of the world against pessimistic adversaries. It has taught me that death is not the most atrocious thing we have to dread and that life is not the most splendid thing we can desire. I have learned that some facets of life are so rough and repulsive that death is sought instead and some so smooth and sustaining that immortality is desired. How captivating are the world's appeals to you in its indescribable voice, not too high or low like a violin playing the middle note of a scale resonant and pure as a light (if you can imagine this) colored sky blue and pulsing with conviction. These calls are an invitation to the empyrean."
"NEXT THURSDAY, putting my trust in God, I'll get married."
"May our Lord grant us success."
"I'll be successful if I please my father."
"Your father isn't angry at you, praise God."
"The only guests will be family members. You won't find anything there to upset you."
"Fine, fine!"
"I wish Mother would come, but…"
"It's r ot our fault. The important thing is for the evening to pass quietly."
"Naturally. That hasn't escaped me. I know your tastes as well as anyone. There will be nothing to the wedding beyond the marriage contract and some refreshments."
"Fine. May our Lord guide you to the right path."
"I've asked Kamal to give my greetings to his mother and to request her not to deprive me of the benefit of her prayers and to forgive me…."
"Of course. Naturally."
"Please let me hear you say again that you're not angry with me."
"I'm tiot angry at you. By God I hope you're destined to find success and prosperity. God hears our prayers."
Matters did not turn out according to the wishes of al-Sayyid Ahmad. He was forced to go along with his son for fear of jeopardizing their relationship. Hisheart was too tender for him to quarrel seriously with Yasin, let alone to sever ties with him. Al-Sayyid Ahmad had agreed to hand over his eldest son to Bahija's daughter and to sanction by his presence the wedding that would bring his former mistress into the family circle. Fie had rejected Amina's attempt at intervention when she had declared her wish that Fahmy's brother and sisters should be prevented from attending Yasin's marriage to Maryam.
He had told her in a peremptory tone, "That's a silly idea. Some men marry their brother's widow, in spite of their love and devotion for him. Maryam wasn't married to Fahmy. She wasn't even engaged to him. It's ancient history, from six years ago. I won't deny that he's made a poor choice, but for a mule he's got good intentions. He's hurting himself more than anyone else. He could have found a better family, and the girl's divorced. It's in God's hands. Yasin bears full responsibility for this."
Amina had fallen silent, as though accepting his arguments. Although she had acquired from her time of suffering some measure of courage about voicing her opinion in front of her husband, she did not have enough nerve to oppose him. Thus when Khadija visited her to say that Yasin had invited her to his wedding and that she was thinking of using ill health as an excuse for declining, Amina had disagreed and advised her to accept her brother's invitation.
Thursday arrived, and al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad went to the home of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan, where he found Yasin and Kamal waiting to greet him. They were soon joined by Ibrahim and Khalil Shawkat, who were accompanied by Khadija and Aisha. Maryam's family was represented by only a few women, and al-Sayyid Ahmad felt reassured that the day would indeed pass tranquilly.
On his way to the parlor, he encountered familiar landmarks, oneshe had seen previously in radically different circumstances. He was besieged by memories, which provoked various forms of disgust and vexation within him, because of the silent mockery of the new role he had come to perform - that of the dignified father of the bridegroom. He was secretly cursing his son, who had landed him and himself - if he would only realize it - in a fix. The fact that the marriage was actually taking place tempted him to reconsider the situation and to hope that God had created the daughter from another pattern than her mother's and that Yasin would find Maryam an excellent wife, in every sense of the word, and be spared reckless behavior like her mother's. Then he asked God to conceal things best forgotten.
Yasin was handsome in his finery and obviously happy, despite the simplicity of the reception honoring his wedding. The secret of his good spirits was the presence of his brother and sisters. He had been apprehensive that their mother might influence one of them to stay home. Would it have been possible to dispense with Mar-yam for their sakes? Certainly not… He loved her. Since she had offered him no route to her save marriage, this wedding was inevitable. The objections of his father and stepmother were misplaced. Yasin was unimpressed by the threat of dire consequences. Furthermore, Mary am was the first woman he had desired to marry on the basis of a prior knowledge of her character and appearance. For this, reason he was optimistic about the prospects for the marriage, hoping that it would establish a lasting conjugal life for him. Th at much was true. He felt he would be a good husband and that she would make a good wife for him. In time he was sure Rddwan would have a happy home in which to grow up and mature. Yasin had drifted around a lot, and it was time for him to settle down. Had the circumstances attending his wedding been difFerent, he would not have hesitated to celebrate it with a party offering many delights and pleasures. He was not so old, poor, or ill at ease with parties that he would ordinarily be content with this dreary reunion, more like a funeral than a wxdding. But one should no t judge the situation too hastily, for necessity has its own laws. He would cedicate this abstinence to Fahmy's memory.
Maryam's reunion with Khadija and Aisha, after a separation of several years, was an emotional one, no matter how reserved or awkward. They exchanged kisses and compliments. Their lengthy conversation ranged far and wide but sidestepped the past, as far as possible. The first moments were the most strained. Each of the women expected old memories relating to the rupture and the development of bad feelings between them to be dredged up in a negative or critical fashion. These first delicate moments passed safely, and Maryam adroitly steered the conversation toward Kha-dija's clothes and Aisha's slender figure, which she had retained even after bearing three children. Maryam and her mother asked about "the mother". They were told that she was well, and nothing more was said about her.
Aisha looked at her longtime friend with an eye filled with tender affection, for her heart was always ready to love. If she had not felt apprehensive about the consequences, she would have turned the conversation to memories of the past, in order to laugh over them to her heart's content.
Khadija stealthily scrutinized Maryam. Although she had not thought of her former friend for years, news of her marriage to Yasin had inspired a flood of bitter comments. She had reminded Aisha about the incident with the Englishman, wondering aloud what could have blinded and deafened Yasin. Yet Khadija's emotional commitment to her family was so intense that it took precedence over everything else and prevented her from criticizing Maryam within earshot of members of the Shawkat family. Not even Khadija's husband was exempted. She cautioned her mother: "Whether we like it or not, Maryam is going to become part of our family". There was nothing strange in this attitude, for Khadija, even after giving birth to Abd al-Muni'm Shawkat and Ahmad Shawkat, still considered the Shawkats strangers, to a certain degree.
The marriage clerk arrived early in the evening, and the wedding contract was drawn up. Cool drinks flavored with fruit syrup were passed around and a single whooping trill of joy resounded. Yasin received their congratulations and good wishes. The bride was summoned to meet her "senior master," al-Sayyid Ahmad, and the family of her new husband. Escorted by her mother, Khadija, and Aisha, she kissed her father-in-law's hand and shook those of the others. Then al-Sayyid Ahmad presented her with the wedding gift, a set of gold bracelets studded with small diamonds and emeralds. The family gathering lasted a long time, with the guests starting to leave, one after the other, at about nine. Then the carriage arrived to take the couple to Yasin's house in Palace of Desire Alley, where he had prepared the third floor to receive his bride. Everyone thought that, for better or for worse, the curtain had fallen on Yasin's second marriage.
But two weeks after this wedding the home of the late Mr. Muhammad Ridwan witnessed another nuptial party, one considered truly bizarre by the residents of al-Sayyid Ahmad's home, of Sugar Street, of Palace of Desire Alley, and of the whole Palace Walk neighborhood. Without any prior warning, people learned to their total amazement that Bahija was marrying Bayumi, who sold fruit drinks. Everyone was stunned by this. It seemed they were realizing for the first time that Bayumi's shop stood at the head of the alley where the Ridwan residence was located and that it lay directly beneath one of the venerable latticed balconies of the house. Confronted by this fact, they could only wonder. And people had every reason to be amazed, for the bride was the widow of a man known during his lifetime for his goodness and piety an d she was considered one of the respectable ladies of the district, even though she was fond of personal adornment. And she was fifty. The bridegroom was a common fellow who wore unpretentious ankle-length shirts and sold carob- and tamarind-flavored drinks in a small shop. He was only forty. He had also been married for twenty years and had fathered nine children. All these factors provoked gossip. Without any reserve whatsoever people waded into the subject of the events that must have preceded the wedding but which had passed undetected by anyone. When and how did these things happen? How did they develop to the point of culminating in matrimony? Which of the two parties had initiated the relationship and which had accepted the invitation?
Uncle Hasanayn, the barber, whose establishment was on the other side of the street, next to the ancient building housing the public cistern, reported that he had frequently seen Mrs. Bahija standing in front of Bayumi's stall, consuming a carob drink. Perhaps they had exchanged a few words then, but, being a kindly man, the barber had never suspected anything. Asking God's forgiveness, Abu Sari', who sold roasted snacks from a shop that closed later than other ones, said he had occasionally noticed men slipping into her house by night but had not known Bayumi was one of them. Darwish, who sold cooked beans, had some things to say, as did al-Fuli, the milkman. Although they pretended to pity the man with all those children and to criticize him bitterly for being so stupid as to marry a woman old enough to be his mother, they were secretly envious of his luck and resented his ascent from their class by means of this unorthodox ploy. Following those comments there was a great deal of talk about the extent of his expected inheritance from the house and a possible treasure trove ofjewelry.
The households of al-Sayyid Ahmad, of Sugar Street, and of Palace of Desire Alley were severely shaken. "What a scandal!" everyone exclaimed. Al-Sayyid Ahmad was so angry that members of his immediate family were too terrified to speak to him for several days running. From that time on, Bayumi the drinks vendor would surely have a right to consider al-Sayyid Ahmad his relative. "Curses on Yasin and his lusts!" Bayumi the drinks vendor had become his "uncle," and everyone's nose had been rubbed in the dirt.
When the information reached Khadija, she shouted, "What awful news!" Then she asked Aisha, "Who could ever fault Mother after this? Her heart is never wrong."
Yasin swore to his father that the event had taken place without his knowledge or his wife's. It had made his wife sadder than anyone could possibly imagine. But what could she do?
The scandal did not stop there, for the moment Bayumi's first wife heard the news, she went berserk and stormed out of her home like a lunatic, pushing her children in front of her. She swooped down on Bayumi in his store, and a fierce battle broke out between them as words, hands, feet, shrieks, and screams were employed within the sight and hearing of their children, who began to howl and implore people at hand and passersby to help. Soon a crowd had collected in front of the store - pedestrians, shop owners, women, and children. When they separated the couple and forced the woman back into the street, she came to rest under Bahija's balcony. Her dress was ripped, her wrap in shreds, her hair disheveled, and her nose bloody. She reared her head back to look up at the shuttered windows before unleashing a tongue like a whip with poisoned, weighted ends.
Worse still, when she left her post there, she headed for al-Sayyid Ahmad's store, because he was the father-in-law of her husband's new stepdaughter. She begged him tearfully and ora-torically to use his influence to convince her husband to mend his sinful ways. Although seething with rage and chagrin at his plight, al-Sayyid Ahmad heard her out. Then he delicately tried to make her understand, so far as he was able, that this whole affair was beyond the scope of his influence, contrary to her expectations. He kept at it until he persuaded her to leave his store. He was furious but, even so, thought long and hard about Bahija's motives for this strange marriage, especially since he was certain it would not have been hard for her to find a way to gratify any desire she might have felt for Bayumi the drinks vendor without exposing herself and her family to the disturbing consequences of marriage. Why had she committed this folly, paying no attention to the man's wife and children and wantonly disregarding the feelings of her daughter and her daughter's new family, as if she had gone insane? Was it not a gloomy feeling of growing old that had made her seek refuge in marriage? Indeed she was sacrificing many of her possessions in her pursuit of the happiness that fleeting youth had once secured for her. He brooded over this idea sorrowfully and despondently. He remembered his own humiliation at the hands of Zanuba the lute player. She had refused him so much as an affectionate glance until he had set her up in the houseboat. That humiliation had shattered his self-confidence and had made him, despite his apparent serenity, frown back at time, since it had begun to frown at him.
In any event, Bahija did not have long to enjoy her marriage. By the end of the third week she was complaining of a sore on her leg. When she had a medical examination she was diagnosed as being diabetic and taken to Qasr al-Ayni Hospital. Reports of the gravity of her condition were heard for several days. Then the appointed hour overtook her.
Дата добавления: 2015-09-29; просмотров: 27 | Нарушение авторских прав
| <== предыдущая лекция | | | следующая лекция ==> |