Naguib Mahfouz - Palace of Desire

Yasin, who had not set foot in the mosque all those years except a handful of times, answered, "I don't let a week go by without visiting my master al-Husayn."

The father turned toward Kamal and cast him a glance as if to ask, "And you?"

Feeling embarrassed, Kamal replied, "Me too!"

The father said humbly, "He's our loved one and our intercessor with his grandfather Muhammad on a day when no mother or father can be of any assistance."

He had recovered from his illness this time, but only after it had taught him a lesson he would not forget. He had found its violence convincing and feared a recurrence. His intention to repent was sincere. He had always believed he would repent, no matter how long he waited. He was now certain that postponing it after this sickness would be stupidity and a blasphemous rejection of God's blessings. Whenever he happened to think of forbidden amusements, tie consoled himself with the innocent pleasures awaiting him in life, like friendship, music, and jests. Therefore he entreated God to preserve him from the whispered temptations of Satan and to strengthen his resolve to repent. He proceeded to recite some of the Qur'an's simpler, shorter suras that he knew by heart.

When he rose, his sons did too. Then they went to the sepul-cher, where they were greeted by the sweet fragrance pervading the place and a murmur of whispered recitations. They walked around the tomb with the throngs of visitors. Kamal's eyes looked up at the great green turban and then rested for a time on the wooden door, which he had kissed so often. He compared the present with the past and his former state of mind with his current one. He remembered how revelation of this tomb's secret had been the first tragedy in his life and then how the succession of tragedies following it had carried off love, belief, and friendship. Despite all that, he was still standing on his own two feet as he gazed worshipfully at truth, so heedless of the jabs of pain that even his bitterness caused him to smile. He had no regrets over his rejection of the blind happiness illuminating the faces of the men circumatubulating the tomb. How could he buy happiness at the price of light when he had vowed to live with his eyes open? He preferred to be anxious and alive rather than comfortable and sleepy. He chose wakeful insomnia over restful sleep.

When they had finished walking around the sepulcher, the father invited them to rest for a while in the shelter of the shrine. They went to a corner and sat down next to each other. Some acquaintances noticed al-Sayyid Ahmad and approached to shake hands and congratulate him on his recovery. Some stayed to sit with them. Most of them knew Yasin either from his father's store or from al-Nahhasin School, but hardly anyone knew Kamal. Some of them noticed how thin the boy was and one jokingly asked al-Sayyid Ahmad, "What's wrong with this son of yours? He's skinny as a ramrod."

As if returning the man's compliment with an even nicer one, al-Sayyid Ahmad shot back, "No, you're the ram!"

Yasin smiled. Kamal did too, for this was the first chance he had had to observe his father's secret personality of which he had heard so much. His father was obviously a man who would not miss a chance for a little joke even when he was beside the tomb of al-Husayn in a sacred place devoted to praise of God and repentance. Yasin was inspired to reflect on his father's future, wondering whether al-Sayyid Ahmad would return to his previous joys even after this serious illness.

Yasin told himself, "Knowing this is extremely important to me."

Umm Hanafi was sitting cross-legged on a mat in the sitting room while Aisha's daughter Na'ima and Khadija's sons Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad sat on the sofa opposite her. The two windows overlooking the courtyard of the house were open because of the hot, humid August weather, but scarcely a breeze stirred and the large lamp suspended from the ceiling cast a steady light throughout the room. The bedrooms opening off the sitting room seemed dark and silent. Umm Hanafi's head was bowed, and her arms were folded across her chest. She would look up at the children on the sofa for a moment and then lower her eyes again. She said nothing but her lips never stopped moving.

Abd al-Muni'm asked, "How long will Uncle Kamal stay on the roof?"

Umm Hanafi muttered, "It's hot down here. Why didn't you stay up there with him?"

"It's dark, and Na'ima's afraid of bugs."

Ahmad asked angrily, "How long are we going to remain here? This is the second week. I'm counting every day. I want to go back to Papa and Mama."

Umm Hanafi said hopefully, "God willing, you'll all return and be in the best possible shape. Pray to God, for He answers the requests of pure young children."

Abd al-Muni'm said, "We pray before we go to sleep and when we wake up, just the way you instructed us."

The woman said, "Pray to God all the time. Pray to Him now. He's the only one who can remove our distress."

Abd al-Muni'm spread out his hands in prayer and looked at Ahmad to invite him to join in. The vexed look still on his face, Ahmad complied. Then they repeated together, as they had grown accustomed to during the last few days, "O Lord, cure Uncle Khalil and our cousins Uthman and Muhammad so we can return home with minds at ease."

The impact this made on Na'ima was apparent in her face. Her features had a sad look and her blue eyes were filled with tears. She cried out, "Papa, Uthman, and Muhammad how are they? I want to see Mama. I want to see all of them."

Abd al-Muni'm turned toward her to say in a consoling voice, "Don't cry, Na'ima. I've told you repeatedly not to cry. My uncle's fine. Uthman's fine. Muhammad's fine. We'll return home soon. Grandmother said so. Uncle Kamal said so too not very long ago."

Na'ima, who was sobbing, said, "I hear this every day. But they don't let us return. I want to see Papa, Uthman, and Muhammad. I want Mama."

Ahmad grumbled, "I want Papa and Mama too."

Abd al-Muni'm said, "We'll go back when they're well."

Na'ima cried out anxiously, "Let's go back now. I want to go home. Why are they keeping us away?"

Abd al-Muni'm replied, "They're afraid we'll catch the disease."

Na'ima answered stubbornly, "Mama's there. Aunt Khadija's there. Uncle Ibrahim's there. Grandmother's there. Why won't they catch it?"

"Because they're adults!"

"If adults can't catch diseases, why is Papa sick?"

Umm Hanafi sighed and said tenderly, "Is something upsetting you? This is your house too. And here are Masters Abd al-Muni'm and Ahmad to play with you. And your Uncle Kamal loves you more than all the world. You'll soon return to Mama, Papa, Uthman, and Muhammad. Don't cry, little lady. Pray for Papa and your brothers to get well."

Ahmad complained, "Two weeks! I've counted the days on my fingers. Besides, our apartment's on the third floor, and the disease is on the second. Why can't we return to our apartment and take Na'ima with us?"

Umm Hanafi put a finger to her lips as though to caution them and said, "Your uncle Kamal will get angry if he hears what you said. He buys you chocolates and melon seeds. How can you say you don't want to stay with him? You're not babies anymore. Master Abd al-Muni'm, you'll be starting primary school in a month. And you will too, dear Na'ima."

Backing down a little, Ahmad said, "At least let us go outside to play in the street."

Abd al-Muni'm seconded that suggestion: "That makes sense, Umm Hanafi. Why don't we go out and play in the street?"

Umm Hanafi replied firmly, "You have the courtyard, which is as big as the universe. And you also have the roof terrace. What more do you want than that? When Mr. Kamal was young, he only played in the house. When I finish my work, I'll tell you stories. Wouldn't you like that?"