Naguib Mahfouz - The Mirage

On a Saturday morning in mid-October, I left home shored up by prayers of supplication and headed for the Egyptian University. I stood on the sidewalk waiting for the tram, the same one that used to take me to the Saidiya School. Despite the resentment I felt over having to go where I was going, I wasn’t without a feeling of pride.

As I stood there waiting, I heard the clattering of a window shutter as it opened forcefully and struck the outside wall. I looked up at the second story of an orange building located directly in front of the tram stop where, up until around a month before, there had been a sign advertising a doctor’s clinic. My glance fell on a girl who stood on the balcony drinking tea, and I realized immediately that a family had moved into the flat that had been vacated by the physician. Fixing my gaze on her, I began following her movements as she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, then puckered her mouth and blew on the hot liquid once more. She stood there repeating the process over and over, engrossed in the enjoyment of her drink. She was a tall girl with a slender, svelte figure and a wheat-colored complexion. Clad modestly in a jacket and a gray tailored suit, she looked as though she were about to go to school. She had the side of her face to me, and when she held her head up straight, I saw a round face surrounded by a halo of chestnut hair whose appearance from afar suggested a lovely composition, though I wasn’t able to make out its features from where I stood. The sight of her had a joyous effect on me. However, she only remained in view for a short while, and before I knew it she’d turned and gone back inside.

I kept her image in my mind out of curiosity as the tram approached, then I boarded with a sense that, thanks to the agreeable effect she’d had on me, I’d been relieved of the gloom of this day on which my studies were to begin. At the same time, the Faculty of Law possessed advantages that were likely to relieve me of my fears, though they did nothing to detract from the reasons for my overall aversion to studying. One such advantage was that students generally attended classes for only four hours a day, their school day ending at around 1:00 p.m. Another advantage was that students were unsupervised, and enjoyed the freedom to choose whether they would attend lectures or not. And most important of all was the absence of the notion of punishments. In fact, I gathered from the general mood of the students that the threats that hung over professors were more fearsome than those faced by the students themselves. All this was cause for delight as far as I was concerned, and I consoled myself with the thought that this period of study, like those that had preceded it, would ultimately come to an end, however bitter it turned out to be. It wasn’t new to me to have to drink the bitter cup of academics to the dregs, however much I detested it. And when I came home to Manyal later that day, a sudden elation came over me as I fancied myself to be a man of importance: half a professor, and a quarter of a public prosecutor!

* * *

The following morning as I approached the station, I remembered the balcony. Stirred by a quiet, natural curiosity, I looked toward it, but found it empty. My glance then stole inside the flat, where I saw a mirror on the opposite wall and to the left, a burnished silver bedpost and a ceiling lamp covered with a large blue lampshade. There appeared in the center of the room a fifty-year-old man wearing gold spectacles and buttoning his suspenders. Upon seeing him, I lowered my gaze and began pacing up and down the sidewalk. Then, happening to glance over at the stop where the tram heading for Ataba would come in, I saw the girl again. I recognized her by her height and what she was wearing, and this time she had a book in her hand. She had a dignified bearing that was lovely for her age, as she couldn’t have been more than twenty. She didn’t turn to look at any of the people crowding about or passing by her. Her reserve had a salutary effect on me and filled me with respect and admiration, as a result of which I felt a kind of attraction and affection for her. It was nothing new for me to be affected by women, of course. After all, I would often see beautiful women on the street or in the tram, and in general I would look at them like a passerby tormented by deprivation, loneliness, and desire. After glances of this sort, I would come away with a combination of intense elation and a painful jolt. As for this girl, though, she was something different. My attitude toward her wasn’t that of a mere passerby. Rather, it was the attitude of a resident, or someone who’s on the order of a neighbor. After all, I was seeing her today, and I’d be seeing her tomorrow, and so on indefinitely, a fact that intensified my interest in her, stirring in my heart imagined hopes and a desire for a happiness that could be renewed every day. It was as if my seeing her were a kind of getting-to-know-one-another, a vague hope, and an object of passive delight beyond which a shy, diffident sort like me would entertain no aspiration.

I went to the university in high spirits, and I wondered: Might she possibly take notice of me? I remembered her again in the heart of the night, in my emotional solitude as the delirium of erotic visions toyed with my imagination. However, I discovered within myself a fierce resistance to the idea of admitting her into this part of my world — indeed, a violent rejection of it. Hence, I banished her from the realm of my vile habit and, turning away from her image, I contented myself there with the lewd creatures that always inflamed the basest of my physical sensibilities.

* * *

On the morning of the third day, I set out for the tram stop filled with such anticipation you would have thought I had an appointment to keep. I looked over at the tram stop across the street and saw her standing in the same place I’d seen her the day before, with her tall, slender frame, her moon-like face, and her charming, dignified bearing, and relief coursed through my whole body. Then it occurred to me to find a way to approach her without her noticing, thereby quenching my thirst to get a close look at her face. Fearful that the tram she was waiting for might come along and rob me of the opportunity, I hastened without further ado to carry out what I had in mind. I headed gingerly in the direction of the other tram stop, my heart sinking in my chest from fright, then walked past her with a stealthy look in her direction. In terrified haste, I saw a pair of limpid, honey-colored eyes that were dripping with sweetness, a dainty nose, and delicate lips. She may or may not have felt the warmth of my gaze, but she happened to look up and our eyes met. No sooner had she looked up than I looked away, since it’s easier for me to stare at the sun at high noon than to bear the weight of someone’s gaze. I strode to the edge of the sidewalk and stood there uncertainly, not knowing how to get back to the other side. It now seemed that I’d committed an act of madness, since I’d gotten myself into a predicament from which it would be difficult to escape. This, however, was how I perceived even the most unthreatening of situations. In any case, I stood frozen in place until the girl boarded the tram and the sidewalk was empty again, whereupon I returned breathlessly to my place. I thought to myself: Who could imagine such loveliness, such grace and modesty?

I lived the rest of that day in the shadow of her presence, hardly taking notice of the lectures I heard. The more I longed to give free rein to my emotions, the more I detested the lectures that stood in the way of my dreams and aspirations. I was filled with the desire to rebel against this academic life that so tormented my mind and disregarded my heart and feelings. It was as though I were taking notice of my heart for the first time, recognizing it as a living part of me just like my other bodily organs: one that gets hungry like the stomach, that grows tender like the soul, and that longs expectantly like the spirit. I wished I could devote my life to its happiness, giving myself over to the warm contentment from which its springs erupt.