Naguib Mahfouz - Khan Al-Khalili

From the outset he had been brash and forward in his approach to life in general; and all this while the person who was supposed to be looking after him — namely his elder brother — was the exact opposite, trammeled by the fact that he was both spoiled and scared. As a result, Ahmad had tended to rely on the younger brother he was helping to bring up — who was reliable along with other people — when it came to doing things for him, buying whatever he needed, and borrowing books for him. The younger brother had thereby gained world experience, along with self-reliance, initiative, and masculinity. His elder brother needed him just as much as he needed his elder mentor. However, while he may have learned about the world and operated within it, he still had no fixed set of principles to protect him from its pitfalls. Ever since Akif Effendi had been pensioned off, he had kept to himself and left the running of family affairs to his elder son and his wife. As far as Rushdi was concerned, neither of those two dear people had the necessary resolution to provide him with guidance and restraint. He preferred to make his own way and to do everything on impulse. In fact, had he not been even-tempered and considerate, he might well have crossed the line from youthful indiscretion to criminality.

His early educational career in primary and secondary schools had often heralded great success; to such an extent that even Ahmad declared that Rushdi seemed to have inherited some of his own intellectual abilities. But once he had enrolled in the School of Commerce things changed. Corruption bent his will. He found himself drawn toward a group of young men who indulged in heavy drinking, betting on card games, and in general living a dissolute life. His behavior became more and more crazy; he went into debt several times and neglected his studies, to such an extent that it almost caused a rift between himself and his brother. Things reached a climax when he started thinking seriously of abandoning his university studies and becoming a singer, and all because he had heard a lot about the bohemian lifestyle of singers and their success in attracting women, quite apart from the fact that he was well aware of what a sweet, harmonious voice he had. With that, Ahmad’s patience snapped; he warned his brother that he would cut off his allowance if he didn’t immediately stop behaving in such a debauched and reckless fashion. Sometimes he became so angry that he really felt as though he hated his brother. So strong was his feeling of resentment that he found himself doing some things that he himself was actually incapable of undertaking on his own, one or two of which caused him no small amount of heartache.

And yet, in spite of everything, the two brothers still remained very fond of each other, due in no small part to the talents of the younger one. Whenever the elder brother applied pressure, the younger one slowed his pace a little; whenever the former frowned, the latter smiled; if Ahmad cursed and swore, Rushdi used to laugh and then either kiss his brother’s hand or nudge his shoulder; if Ahmad clenched his fist, Rushdi would tease him ever so gently. This phase came to an end with a miracle. Yes indeed, a miracle in the form of a BA degree. All of which drove Ahmad to observe that here was a student being awarded a degree that gave its holder precedence over himself! But then he gave a deep sigh and realized that now his own responsibilities were over. He would not have to concern himself — to an excessive degree — with his younger brother’s raucous behavior any longer; Rushdi was in charge of his own life. All that meant that the atmosphere between the two brothers calmed down a lot; their mutual affection returned to the way it used to be when Rushdi was a boy, with nothing to mar the picture. In fact, they were so comfortable with each other that Rushdi would often share with his brother stories about his love affairs, drawing from his wide experience involving both chaste and distinctly unchaste episodes. He was just as likely to look for adventure in low dives as he was to chase pretty girls across roads and squares. He managed to collect a number of photographs of pretty girls with this odd expression scribbled in pleasant handwriting: “To my beloved fiancé, Rushdi.” It was not that he meant any harm to these young women or that he found it in any way easy to plot dirty tricks against them. The truth of the matter was that it was all too easy for him to fall victim to his own intense passions. For him nothing was easier than to become a lover, a genuine and sincere one at that. But, once he was involved, he would never actually swear a lie, all too often he would break his word.

When his emotions became really intense, it often happened that he would take it further and make a genuine, truthful promise; then there would be an engagement. But not long afterward, his emotions would calm down or something else would happen. In his life there was no such thing as peace and quiet; it provided fertile ground for pleasures and passions, so much so that he actually wore himself out. He grew thinner and downright skinny, so much so that, according to his parents, he looked like a beanpole. Ahmad, who loved him and felt sorry for him, kept looking at him anxiously. “Have pity on yourself,” he told his brother, to which Rushdi replied with his usual merriment, “God have mercy on us and you!” When the bank had sent him to work in the Asyut branch, his family had been secretly delighted — even though they were sorry to see him go so far away. They clung to the single hope that in his new posting — his exile to the South — their younger son might adjust his lifestyle and regain some of the health he had lost. They also hoped that he would be able to save some of his salary as well. For that very reason they were delighted when they heard he had been moved back to Cairo, all the while keeping their worries to themselves.

There were just three days left in the month of Ramadan. Ahmad was actually sad that the blessed month was coming to an end. After all, how could he possibly forget all the benefits and mercies it provided? How could he commune with the sunset hour about his rotten luck and lonely heart? What would tomorrow bring, he wondered to himself, and what of the future? His mother, Sitt Dawlat, and the servant girl were both busy getting the room ready for his brother who was coming home from Asyut. It was the room next to his parents’ bedroom and looked out onto the street that led to the old part of Khan al-Khalili, as did one of the windows in Ahmad’s own room. They swept and cleaned the room, then put some furniture in it so that it was completely ready for the young man’s arrival. Their mother then embarked on one of her seasonal campaigns — as usual, one that involved her son, Ahmad — all connected with the arrival of the first day of the Eid, or “the Cookie Feast,” as she liked to call it. After they had all broken the fast, she took advantage of the fact that she was alone with him and started bidding a fond farewell to the Ramadan days with their particular rituals.

“Just a couple more days,” she said, “and we’ll all be enjoying the smell of cookies!”

He was expecting something of the sort and realized that there was no avoiding an argument about it; he was bound to lose no matter what he said or however much he objected. Even so, he was not in the habit of surrendering even a single solitary penny without putting up a fight as a way of salving his conscience.

“In times like these,” he said by way of justification, “people won’t be smelling cookies! They’ll be asking God to keep them safe and provide them with life’s bare necessities. You’re always keen to get us trivial luxuries, Mother. You don’t think about how much money I have. Have mercy on those who dwell on earth, and He who dwells in heaven will have mercy on you!”