Naguib Mahfouz: The day the leader was killed

“I too have responsibilities. We’re in exactly the same position,” she said firmly.

“I’ve got to admit I’m ruining your future.”

“And what about your future?”

“It’s different. A man can get married in his fifties.”

“For the first time, I sense that you feel defeated, Elwan,” she muttered, her face growing pale.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve been able to overcome my selfishness for the first time,” I said after some hesitation.

“My God, are you seriously considering…“ she cried, bewildered. She had hardly finished her sentence when I interrupted:

“I now free you from my bondage,” I said digging into my own wound.

“Elwan, I can’t stand hearing you say that,” she said with great emotion.

“Reconsider our position away from my insufferable presence.”

“I’m free and no one has any power over mc.”

“The matter has to be reconsidered.”

“ It’ssound logic hut I doubt its soundness where true love is concerned,” she said gloomily.

“Careful, don’t start doubting me and don’t make matters worse, for love, too, has been sacrificed,” I said hastily and emotionally.

“You don’t have to make any sacrifice.”

“I’m only doing what I think is right.”

“Just say that you now feel I’m an obstacle in your way,” she said bitterly.

“God forgive you, Randa. I shan’t sit and defend myself.”

“I won’t have you make any sacrifice.”

“But I insist on it,” I said quite plainly.

We were divided by silence, a silence heavier than the approaching night. We both shrank within our shells. Despair was driving us far apart so that our being together seemed to have lost all meaning.

“There’s no point in my remaining here,” she grumped, standing up.

So I too rose, lifeless. We looked like two strangers, each heading for his owncountry. Only pain is stronger than love. I could just visualize the loneliness lurking there at the end of the road. We did not exchange a single word all the way hack. And no farewells as we parted inside the old building.

My parents were in their room and my grandfather was sitting all alone in front of the television. I sat next to him; he glanced my way furtively and expectantly.

“A film about a mad woman.I don’t like it,” he said finally, as though he were trying to escape from his own thoughts.

“Why do you sit and watch something you don’t like?” I asked.

“There’s a speech on the other channel.”

“Why don’t you switch it off then?”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“We broke off our engagement!” I said.

A look of gloom and frustration crept into his eyes.

“God help you in your predicament,” he muttered.

“We broke up and that’s it,” I said dryly.

“I feel guilty,” he added in a sad tone.

“You’re not responsible, Grandpa,” I answered coldly.

I could see the image of my face reflected in the look with which my mother greeted me: pity and something very close to fear.

“Congratulations. Your efforts have succeeded,” I told her within earshot of my father. She sank into a deeper silence as tears began to fill her eyes. Suddenly my father said:

“I trustthe soundness of your judgment.”

“Papa, please don’t treat me like a child,” I said on a note of protest.

“You won’t regret it, and I’ll be soon reminding you of this,” he said calmly.

My mother finally spoke out and said:

“You’re a true believer and one therefore doesn’t have to worry about you.”

“Your mother wasn’t wrong, Randa,” said my father.

This is, however, a brand-new life I shall have to be lacing from now on, a life in which there is no trace of Elwan, one which I will have to patiently endure until I die. I was suddenly struck by the bitter sense that I was growing old, haunted by bleak visions of spinsterhood. My bedroom seemed old and shabby with its two ancient beds, its peeling cupboard and faded carpet with only traces of a design still visible. Even my sister Sanaa had become exasperating and nasty.

“You deserve to be congratulated,” she said coldly.

I was angry with Elwan. He proved to be weaker than I had imagined. He deserves to remain confused and aimless forever and ever. I can even see him getting into bad ways or selling himself to a woman like Gulstan. The fact is he’s tired of having to bear responsibilities. He’s trying to escape from this sense of inadequacy and imagines that no one will ever accuse him any longer of not being able to get married. I told myselfthat I should he congratulating myself on my freedom. I am lighter than I have ever been in the past. He has abandoned me; he has betrayed me. Who but him is ever to care about my excruciating unhappiness? I should be congratulating myself on my freedom. From now on, I can weigh matters rationally with a mind unfettered by the whims of the heart. I am free… I am free! Enough of that! But what did Anwar Allam mean when he spoke to me? What endless unhappiness is that! Does time really cure one from the pangs of love? When and how, damn it! The more I am humiliated, the more contempt I have for him. My parents are being deliberately elusive and will probably remain so until they are once again able to handle matters. First comesdefeat in victory, then the sense of victory. He fled and I havebeen freed. Nurse your pain courageously until it disappears.

I braced myself to meet him on his arrival at the office in the morning, bent on greeting him like any other colleague as though nothing had happened, determined to appear indifferent. But I could not. I was unable to look his way, thus revealing my unhappiness. I wonder how he spent the night?Had he shared my torment or did he sink deep in sleep, a restful sleep, the sleep of freedom? Our secret was going to have to be disclosed, it became known at the office and, on the face of it at least, a sense of gloom seemed to prevail. No one made any comment. The bankrupt must have rejoiced, for unhappy people find solace in like company.

When my turn came to appear before Anwar Allam, he seemed unusually serious at first. However, before I was allowed to go, he said:

“I’ve been told and am sorry!”

I kept quiet.

“But this was the inevitable end. I even believe it has come rather late in the day,” he continued. “A person like you should not have her future depend on a vague promise as though you had no idea of your real worth,” he added in a stronger tone.

I did not utter a single word, so he went on:

“When I once said that every problem had a solution, I had this end in mind. And, seeing that everything eventually disappears, sorrow will certainly not be the exception to the rule!”

Returning to his files, he added:

“My advice to you, Miss Randa, is that you should always remember that we are living in the age of reason. You should trust it blindly, for anything that goes counter to reason is false, false, false!”

Throughout our conversation he was eyeing me boldly. The barriers erected earlier were no longer there. I did not feel that he was more repulsive than before or less so; it was just that I no longer considered it a strange thing.

“I’d like to clarify something, Randa. If he were really and truly sincere, he wouldn’t have ever given you up,” said my father that evening.

Father is sarcastic and suspicious of people. He digs behind every good deed until he finds a nasty interpretation for it.

“He had to make a painful sacrifice because he could no longer bear to be blamed. I know him better than you, Papa,” I said, although I was half inclined to believe him.

“I predict that yours will be a happy end,” he said, smiling. When I failed to comment, he added, “Since we have freed ourselves from love, let us place our faith in reason. And then, there’s no escaping people’s opinion.”