Naguib Mahfouz: The Seventh Heaven

“What’s happened to the world?” I called out aloud.

An angry voice shrieked back at me, “You’re frightening me — may God never forgive you!”

I looked at the man apologetically, and motioned toward the final road. “I beg your pardon,” I entreated, “I’m exhausted and I need someone to go with me.”

He stared at me doubtfully. “I’m sorry,” he reproved. “Entrust yourself to God.”

He turned about menacingly as he moved away from me. There was nothing left but to try my luck on my own. Sunset was descending without any escape. The road wasn’t my normal way, but it seemed to lead to civilization. This was a big, exciting street, remarkable for its magnificence and splendor; one could call it the Avenue of the Grand Cafés. The names of its coffeehouses, painted in electric signs, were frank and defiant: Café of the Pickpockets, Café of the Con Men, Café of the Pimps, Exclusive Café of the Bribe. For the first time I smiled — and whatever would be, would be. The important thing was to return to my house, and let the cafés — with their brazen, openly touted shamelessness, and whoever was in them — go to damnation. I kept up my pace, propelled by both worry and hope. For the first time, I glimpsed at the end of the street something that reassured my heart and calmed my imagination. I saw a band of security men led by a fearsome brute — and had no doubt they were about to launch a vigorous attack to clean the place up and put things in order. With exuberance I sputtered, “May God preserve you! Have you heard what’s happening on the other streets?”

I was met with a hail of cold, dry looks that warned of malice and woe. In my stunned dismay, I imagined they were getting ready to arrest me. I began to question their real identities, and sped off without stopping — all too aware that there remained for me no new passage to salvation. I reached the square as darkness was spreading— drowning in a quagmire of confusion, without a life preserver. The place was not empty, as it appeared, but its precincts were occupied with numerous spirits, the atmosphere filled with obscure murmurings. Then cries boomed out, clashing and conflicting to the utmost — raging, threatening, and preparing for combat in the jet-black gloom. I felt myself endangered, though I had no weapon beyond my empty bag. From where did all these creatures come? And what do they want? Are they friend or foe? Did they spring from the desert or from the wild, riotous roads? Then the shouts were permeated with sounds of different kinds — songs of debauchery, religious anthems, and military airs. My chest tightened and I was about to smother, as feelings of annihilation, loss, and despair lashed me onward — until, in the climax of my exasperation, I balled up my fist and struck myself on the skull….

Suddenly, in what seemed a miracle, Hell disappeared. It vanished suddenly, not by degrees, as wakefulness fell from its free kingdom in the sky. An enlightened wakeful-ness, replete with kindness, peace, and serenity, restful and at rest — a happiness exuding sympathy and affection. I peered through the window — and saw the radiant horizon blooming in the garden of the rising sun.

At a certain time, Tayyib al-Mahdi believed that his mission in this world had come to an end. Deeply relaxed, with only minor aches and pains, he would mutter to himself in contentment, “All praise to God, Lord of the Worlds.” He had generous health insurance and a more than adequate pension. He lived in an apartment that he owned in Nasr City, which he had won as a reward for many years of service abroad. His four daughters had each gotten married — there was nothing left for him to do but to spend his evenings with his wife, watching television, reading the newspapers, and listening to the radio channel devoted to the Qur’an.

Was it so strange, then, that he thought he had discharged his duties in life in a commendable way? Yet he had no idea what the future had hidden from him, for one night a man of radiant appearance, bathed in light and wrapped in a snow-white robe, came to him in a dream. In a kindly tone, the apparition told him:

From this moment onward, and for as long as God wills, you shall have the power to tell something, Be! — and it will be. Do with it what you please.

When he woke from his sleep, Tayyib pondered the meaning of his dream. But no sooner had he forgotten it, the way one typically does with dreams, than peculiarly it recurred exactly in its entirety on the following night, and for many nights on end, until he felt there was some secret message hidden within it. Wisely, though, he kept it to himself, telling no one about it, not even his companion in life, his wife Haniya. At the same time, he felt infused with physical energy, filled with confidence, inspiration, and joy. And why not? He was a good man; his sins were forgivable ones. Pious and observant, he was a lover of virtue who lived his life — despite his modest status — as though he bore on his shoulders the worries of the world and of people everywhere.

But from the dream’s intense, ceaseless pursuit of him, he decided to try out his supposed new power discreetly. One evening as he was watching a discussion on the first channel on television, his wife Haniya busy in the kitchen, he mentally demanded that it switch to the second channel instead. Without any warning, and without him rising from his seat, channel one disappeared, replaced by a foreign film on channel two. Trembling in violent confusion, he was seized by conflicting emotions of fear and elation.

He kept commanding the television to change channels, and ordering the room’s chairs to rise in the air, then returning them to their original places, until he was sure of the miracle that had befallen him. He accepted that its significance was beyond his comprehension — yet he saw that his purpose in the world was not yet fulfilled. Indeed, it had not even begun.

He recalled his benevolent dreams for his country and the planet, which had flared and faded in just a few seconds. Now was the time that they all would come true. He would reform reality with his own hands, but without any acclaim or credit to his name. Yet he reckoned that he must heed the inner voice that had accompanied him through his long life, which occupied his mind when awake or asleep. So at the time that he habitually went to the café each day, he got dressed, his awesome new power enfolded within him, and — entrusting himself to God — left the house in his usual way.

As he hailed a taxi to take him to the heart of the city, the driver waved his hand at him in haughty refusal, speeding on his way without paying him further mind. Even though this was hardly the first time such a thing had occurred, Tayyib’s irritation now was greater than in the past. He considered for a moment that he could make the driver suffer an accident on the road. Whoever is granted a power like mine, must use it only for good. As he said this to himself, his anger nonetheless got the better of him. He stared at the taxi’s rear wheels — and both of them exploded suddenly, like a bomb. The driver pulled over, and drumming his palms together in frustration, glanced back and forth at the two shattered tires. “Both at one time!” he exclaimed.

Tayyib felt that he had taught the man a needed lesson, but had it been mistaken for mere coincidence? He walked by the man, casting him a meaningful look and asking, “Can I be of any help?” but his unknowing pupil glared at him, resentful and enraged. When Tayyib reached the bus shelter, he stood beneath it. As the bus pulled up, jammed with humanity, he watched an argument erupt inside between a woman and a man behind her. He couldn’t hear what was going on between them, but he studied the dimensions of the conflict carefully. Then the man suddenly slapped the woman’s face with shocking impulsiveness. Tayyib was so startled by the incident that he focused all his anger at the offending man’s stomach. Stricken by severe cramps, the brute unexpectedly doubled over, moaning and screaming in pain. The bus didn’t move until he had been carried outside for an ambulance to fetch him. Meanwhile, more than one voice cried out, “He deserves it! That’s what he gets for his bad manners and cheekiness.” Tayyib al-Mahdi observed all this with satisfaction, certain that he had done his duty in the best manner possible.