Naguib Mahfouz - Palace Walk

"Third year, fourth section…"

"Splendid… splendid… Did you hear Sabir sing?"

Although the boy was answering Muhammad Iffat, he had been careful from the beginning to answer in a way that would please his father. He did not know how to reply to the last question or at least he hesitated. The man took pity on him and quickly asked, "Don't you like singing?"

The boy said emphatically, "Certainly not".

It was clear that some of the men present planned to make a joke about this response, the last they would have expected from a person related to Ahmad Abd al-Jawad, but their host cautioned them against it with his eyes, and they kept quiet.

Then Mr. Muhammad Iffat asked Kamal, "Isn't there something you like to listen to?"

Looking at his father, Kamal said, "The Holy Qur'an".

Expressions of approval were heard and the boy was allowed to depart. Thus he did not get to hear what was said about him behind his back. Al-Sayyid al-Far laughed out loud and commented, "If that’s true, the boy’s a bastard".

Al-Sayyid Ahmad Abd al-Jawad laughed and, pointing to where Kamal had been standing, said, "Have you seen anyone craftier than that son of a bitch, pretending to be pious in front of me?… One time when I got home, I heard him singing 'O bird, you up in the tree.'"

Al-Sayyid Ali observed, "Oh, you should have seen him standing between his two brothers and listening to Sabir with his lips moving as he sang along, keeping time perfectly, even better than Ahmad Abd al-Jawad himself".

Then Muhammad Iffat addressed an inquiry to al-Sayyid Ahmad: "The important thing is to tell us whether you liked his voice when he sang 'O bird, you up in the tree.'"

Al-Sayyid Ahmad laughed. Pointing at himself, he said, "He’s this lion’s cub".

Al-Far cried out, "God have mercy on the lioness who gave birth to you".

Kamal escaped from the reception room to the alley. He seemed to be awakening from a nightmare. He stood amid the crowd of boys on the street. He soon recovered his spirits and walked along, proud of his new clothes, delighted with his freedom that allowed him to go anywhere he wanted, except for the frightening reception room. There was no one to restrict or supervise him. What a historic night for him! Only one thing troubled his serenity whenever he thought of it. That was Aisha’s moving to this house, which they had begun referring to as her home. This move had been accomplished in spite of him, without anyone being able to convince him that it was right or beneficial. He had asked repeatedly how his father could allow it, since he would not allow even the shadow of one of his women to be seen through the crack of a window. The only answer he received was loud laughter. He had asked his mother critically how she could do something so extreme as giving Aisha away. She had told him he would grow up one day and take a girl like her from her father’s house, and that she would be escorted to his house with cries of joy.

Kamal had asked Aisha if she was really happy about leaving them. She had said no, but the trousseau had been carried to the stranger’s house. Aisha, whose place on the cup was Kamal’s favorite, had followed her trousseau. Although it was true that the present festivities were helping him forget things he had thought he would be unable to forget even for a moment, sorrow veiled his cheerful heart like a small cloud passing in front of the moon on a clear night.

It was interesting that his pleasure in the singing that night surpassed his other pleasures, like playing with the boys, observing the women and the men having a good time, or even eating the "palace" bread pudding and the fancy gelatin dessert at supper. All the men and women who noticed him were astonished at the serious interest he took in listening to Jalila and Sabir. It seemed unusual for a child his age, but no one in his family who knew his background in music as Aisha’s student was surprised. He had a fine voice, which was considered second in the family only to Aisha's, although their father’s voice, which they had only heard screaming, was the best of all. Kamal listened for a long time to both Jalila and Sabir. He found to his surprise that he preferred the singing of the male vocalist and the music of his troupe. They made a greater impact on his heart. Some lines from their songs stuck in his memory, like "Why are you in love?… Because that’s the way it is". After the night of the wedding, he frequently repeated these lines in the hyacinth bean and jasmine bower on the roof of their home.

Amina and Khadija also enjoyed some of the same delights and freedom as Kamal. Like him, neither of them had ever witnessed an evening so filled with fellowship, music, and merriment. Amina was especially delighted by the attention and flattery she received as mother of the bride, since she had never before been afforded either. Even Khadija’s grief disappeared in the festive lights just as the gloom of night gives way to morning’s radiance. She forgot her sorrows under the influence of soft laughter, sweet tunes, and pleasant conversation. It was all the easier for her to forget, because she had a new sorrow, an innocent one that arose from her feeling of regret over Aisha’s imminent departure. This feeling engendered sincere love and affection. Her former sorrows were obscured by this new one, just as feelings of animosity may be obliterated by generosity. Similarly, a person who both loves and hates someone may find that the sorrow of parting obscures the hatred, leaving only the love. Moreover, Khadija felt a new confidence in herself from appearing with makeup and fine clothes that attracted the attention of some of the women, who praised her enthusiastically. Their praise filled her with hope and dreams and provided her some happy moments.

Yasin and Fahmy sat side by side, alternately chatting and listening to the music. Khalil Shawkat, the bridegroom, joined them from time to time, whenever he had a break from the duties of his enjoyable but taxing evening. In spite of the atmosphere of celebration and delight, Yasin was rather anxious. There was a lingering, vacant look in his eyes. He would ask himself occasionally whether it would be all right for him to quench his thirst, if only with a glass or two of wine. For that reason, he leaned toward their friend Khalil Shawkat and whispered, "Rescue me before the whole evening is lost".

The young man reassured him with a wink of his eye and said, "I've set aside a table in a private room for friends like you".

Yasin was cheered by that, and his interest in conversation, jokes, and music revived. He did not intend to get drunk, for in a place like this, overflowing with family and acquaintances, even a little wine had to be considered a great victory. Although his father was secluded in the reception room, he was not far away. Yasin’s penetration of his father’s secrets did not shake the man’s traditional authority over him. Al-Sayyid Ahmad continued to occupy his heavily fortified stronghold of awe and reverence, and Yasin had not stirred from his own position of obedience and veneration. He had not even thought of revealing his father’s secret, which he had discovered surreptitiously, to anyone, not even to Fahmy. For all these reasons, Yasin was at first satisfied with a glass or two with which to cajole his unruly appetite. It would help prepare him to enjoy the merriment, conversations, music, and other pleasures that lost their savor for him without wine.

Unlike Yasin, Fahmy did not find and doubted he ever would find anything to quench his thirst. His grief had been aroused unexpectedly by the arrival of the bride. He had gone with the bridegroom and Yasin to welcome her with a carefree heart. Then he had seen Maryam walking directly behind the bride. Her mouth was resplendent with a smile of greeting for everyone. Distracted by the trills of joy and the roses, she did not notice him. Her silk veil was so sheer that the clear complexion of her face was visible. He had followed her with his eyes, his heart pounding, until she disappeared behind the door to the women’s quarters. He returned to his seat as shaken as a skiff suddenly caught in a violent storm. Before he saw her, he had been calm, apparently distracted enough by conversation to have forgotten everything. In fact, long periods would pass when he was in this oblivious, forgetful state, while his heart became a reservoir for his suffering. The moment a thought occurred to him, a memory stirred, someone mentioned her name, or anything similar happened, his heart would throb with pain and exude one grief after another. It was like a decayed tooth with an inflamed gum. For a time the toothache may die down until the tooth presses against a morsel of food or touches a solid object. Then the pain erupts. Thus Fahmy’s love would beat against his ribs from the inside as though craving a breath of air, shouting at the top of its lungs that it was still a prisoner. No amount of consolation or forgetfulness had set it free.