Respected Sir, Wedding Song, the Search

by Naguib Mahfouz

  Bahjat Noor said, “You’re probably wondering why your promotion has been delayed.”

  “Indeed I am, Your Excellency.”

  “Well, you know my opinion of you and I may tell you that the Minister’s opinion is the same as mine.”

  “I’m most gratified.”

  The Under Secretary of State was silent. They looked at each other for a long while.

  “What do you deduce from this?” the great man asked.

  “That there must be objections from above?” Othman answered, feeling very low.

  “Frankly there’s a bit of a battle going on.”

  “And the outcome, Your Excellency?”

  “I don’t think the Minister will give in.”

  “How much hope do you think there is?” he asked, feeling his mouth go dry.

  “Oh, plenty! Just put your trust in God like the devout believer you are.”

  His trust in God was boundless, but the devil had long been active in the department. Othman was constantly having to cross a bridge of nails.

  —

  “There’s little chance left,” he sighed.

  “Don’t be sad!” said Radiya. “Promotion is not the only thing in life to look forward to.”

  But sad he was, and his sadness settled deep in his heart. He aged, as it were, by a whole generation and all life’s dreams turned to ashes. Radiya suggested that they spend a day the following weekend in al-Qanatir Gardens. He welcomed the idea and let her lead him away to wander with her in the huge park. She was the only happy thing in his whole life.

  “People have always forgotten their worries in nature’s arms,” she said, laughing.

  She squatted on the grass and gave herself up, soul and body, to the water, the green lawns, and the cloud-dotted sky. He watched her with admiration and warmly endorsed what she said about the beauties of nature. But when he looked around all he saw was scenery that had never meant anything to him in the past, nor did it now. The fact was, he was always absorbed in an inner world, a world of restricted thoughts and fancies conjured up by instinct, a world in which God and God’s earthly glory, and the conflict between good and evil, predominated. These things apart, he saw nothing of life.

  “Surely you love nature!”

  “I love you.”

  “Look at these happy couples all around us!”

  “Yes, there are so many of them!”

  She rested her palm on his hand as she said, “Let’s forget our worries, it’s so refreshing here.”

  “Yes, let’s!”

  “But you’re so sad.”

  He sighed without speaking.

  “Look,” she said, “you are a senior official in grade one. Others would be happy with much less than that.” He nearly told her that true faith was the contrary of trivial happiness.

  “I’m not like other officials, and to prevent me from occupying the position I deserve is despicable behavior and a blatant breach of the moral system the state operates on.”

  “Don’t you think you set too high a value on government positions?”

  “A government position is a brick in the edifice of the state, and the state is an exhalation of the spirit of God, incarnate on earth.”

  She gazed at him with amazement and he realized that she did not comprehend the nature of his faith and all it comprised.

  “That’s a new idea to me,” she said. “But I’ve often heard that the spirit of the people comes from the spirit of God.”

  He smiled scornfully. “Don’t speak to me about political conflicts!”

  “But that’s the real life.”

  “What absolute rubbish!”

  “But the whole world…”

  “The real world,” he interrupted her, “is in the depths of the heart.” His heart ached at the thought that she might think he was mad, as some idiots did, and he said to her, seeing a way out, “Let’s not argue!”

  She gave way and smiled sweetly.

  “It’s time,” he went on, seeking refuge in a new hope, “to make our marriage public.”

  She blushed. “Is our way clear now?”

  “We must face life with courage to be worthy of happiness.”

  “How beautiful to hear you say that!”

  “I’m going to tell my wife.” His face brightened with a smile. “A sacred power calls on me to start life afresh and father children I can be proud of.”

  Thirty-Seven

  He declared his good intentions again in the presence of Radiya’s aunt.

  “For the first time you appear to be a sensible man,” said the old woman.

  Both Othman and Radiya laughed.

  “Our life is worth nothing without you, Aunt,” he said. The old woman showed her approval with a smile.

  “We’ve spent a good day in al-Qanatir Gardens and it’s time for me to go,” he said.

  “Will you tell your wife tonight?” asked the aunt.

  “The sooner, the better!” he answered as he got up. He took one step forward and then stopped, his expression visibly changing.

  “What’s the matter?” Radiya asked.

  He pointed at his chest without uttering a word.

  “Do you feel tired? Sit down!”

  “A severe pain here!” he mumbled, indicating his chest again.

  She rushed forward to help him but he fell back into his chair and fainted.

  When he came to he found himself lying in bed, his clothes still on except for his tie and shoes. He saw in the room a new person, who, despite his weakness, he realized was a doctor. Radiya’s face was sad and drained of color and even her aunt’s face wore an expression of dejection.

  “How do you feel?” asked the doctor as he looked into his eyes.

  “What’s happened?” answered Othman.

  “Nothing very serious.”

  “But…”

  “But you will need quite a long rest.”

  “I feel perfectly all right,” said Othman, greatly disturbed. “I think I can get up.”

  “If that’s the case, I must tell you that your condition is critical,” the doctor said firmly. “In medical terms it is not serious, but any failure to do what I tell you can make it so. You need complete rest for at least a month.”

  “A month!” exclaimed Othman.

  “You must take the treatment regularly, and rigidly follow the prescribed diet. This is no matter for argument. I will look in again tomorrow.” He put his instruments back in his bag and added: “Make sure you remember every word I’ve said!”

  The doctor went out, Othman’s eyes pursuing him with a look of anger and despair. Radiya came nearer until she was standing next to the bed. She stared at him and smiled encouragingly.

  “A little patience and everything will be all right.” The look on his face reflected his anxiety. Tenderly she touched his forehead with the tips of her fingers.

  “Don’t worry! You’ll be fine.”

  “But there are so many things…”

  “I will take care of the situation at the ministry.”

  “How?”

  “The truth must be known. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “What a situation!”

  “Your wife must know too.”

  “That’s even harder.”

  “We must face reality at any cost.”

  “You just rest!” Radiya’s aunt interrupted.

  Radiya was right. He mustn’t give up. The will to live in him rejected despair and surrender, come what might! In the end the whole thing was something of a joke.

  He shut his eyes, and let events outside weave their way as if they had nothing to do with him, though he was in fact their very center. His colleagues in the office soon came to see him, and as he was not allowed to receive visitors, he was flooded with dozens of get-well cards. He read the prayers and good wishes they contained and remembered Sa‘fan Basyuni and Hamza al-Suwayfi. His thoughts reverted to memories which made him feel uneasy. He wondered how Hamza al-Suwayfi was and
whether he was still alive. Then he reflected that new employees who did not know him, and who probably would not have a chance to, were joining the department now. And overhead, above all this, clouds raced in the sky and vanished beyond the horizon. Only now did he understand the meaning of the movement of the sun.

  He closed his eyes for a while and then opened them to find Qadriyya sitting near the bed gazing at him. In her eyes he saw a stupefied look, soft, dark, and indifferent, like the moon when veiled with a transparent cloud. He realized she no longer lived in this world and was not to be feared. However, she seemed to have been told to be nice to him, for she asked him calmly, “How do you feel?”

  He smiled in confusion and gratefully murmured, “Fine, thank you.”

  “They told me that moving you to your ‘original’ home might be dangerous,” she said, as though reproaching the unknown. “I would have liked to look after you.”

  “Thank you, Qadriyya. You’ve always been so good to me.”

  “You must rest until God helps you out of your illness.” She shook her head with an air of wisdom that was not typical of her and went on: “I don’t blame you. I understand everything. You want a son, and you’re right. God grant you your wish!”

  “You are so good and kind, Qadriyya.”

  She relapsed into silence and was then transported into a world of her own suffused with the perfumes of Paradise. He felt deeply relieved because the secret was out, and the critical and potentially explosive moment had passed. On the other hand, he fully realized the meaning of his illness. What hope was there now for promotion? And…and what hope was there of having children?

  “I didn’t have the slightest warning,” he said to Radiya.

  “The doctor wasn’t surprised.”

  “This has certainly taught me what it means to be taken unawares.”

  “It’s only a passing cloud.”

  “I’m very sorry for you, I really am.”

  “Me? All I care about is your health and well-being.”

  He looked at her with affection. “One can never tell what’s going to happen to one in this world.”

  She bowed her head in silence till he feared she was seeking to hide a tear.

  “I’m grateful to you,” he said. “You are a spark of light in this world of ours, which has no logic and no real existence.”

  “Look on the bright side of life, for your sake and mine!”

  He sighed. “Has Qadriyya gone in peace?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought I heard her voice rend the air. What was the matter?”

  “Nothing at all. She’s an unlucky woman.”

  “Yes. One makes mistakes as often as one breathes.”

  “You must rest completely.”

  He looked at her tenderly. “Will we be able to realize one of our hopes?”

  “Yes, with God’s help.”

  He stared at her sadly. “In a moment of despair I put the thought of promotion behind me and all my hopes centered on a single dream—a child.”

  “We shall have one.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  “You just take it easy and everything will be fine.”

  “But how could a hope of immortal kind be lost? It would mean that the annihilation of the world is possible and may, quite simply, happen…”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to keep philosophy for another time?”

  “Very well.”

  “Is there anything you want before you sleep?”

  “Just to know the secret of existence,” he answered with a smile.

  Thirty-Eight

  At last he was able to receive his visitors. Everybody came to see him: his colleagues, the staff working under him, and even porters and messengers. Gatherings took place in the bedroom, lasted a long time, and seemed to promise full recovery. Conversations went on about health and illness, miraculous recoveries, and the mercy of God. They also discussed the skill of doctors, the news of the ministry and the department, the cards sent by the Minister and the Under Secretary of State.

  “Why didn’t the Under Secretary come himself?”

  “He’s been up to his neck in work. Still, he has no excuse.”

  “Well, and what does that matter?”

  Soon conversations turned to public affairs: the latest radio concert, prices, the generation gap, etc.

  Othman took some part in the conversation, but mostly he just listened, and suddenly he found them discussing politics. Once again talk about the conflict raging in society and the slogans that go with it resounded in his ears: freedom, democracy, the people, the working masses, revolutionary ideologies, and confident predictions about the upheavals of tomorrow.

  He told himself that every individual staggered under the weight of his own ambitions: was that not enough? But they believed that each man’s hopes were dependent on his dreams of revolution. Well! What revolution could guarantee him recovery, a child, and the fulfillment of God’s word in the sacred state? But he kept his thoughts secret. They were a paltry flock, grazing in the pastures of misery. They hung their hopes on dreams because their faith was weak and they did not know that solitude was an act of worship.

  A feeling of warmth generated by the assurance of imminent recovery made him want to try his strength. Being on his own in the room was a good opportunity, so he moved slowly to the edge of the bed and lowered his legs carefully until his feet touched the floor.

  “My trust is in God,” he mumbled.

  He stood up and leaned against the bed until he gained confidence in himself, then he moved his feet tentatively like a child taking its first steps on its own. His legs barely supported him, so weak was he, and so long had he been on his back. He walked till he reached the door. He opened it and continued to walk in the direction of the living room. He wanted to give Radiya and her aunt a pleasant surprise. As he approached the room, he heard voices: an argument between Radiya and her aunt.

  “Who? Who?” Radiya was asking sharply.

  Uncha­racte­risti­cally the aunt answered in soft tones, “You’ve brought it all on yourself. I warned you long ago.”

  “What’s the use now?”

  “See what your greed and miscalculation have brought you!”

  “Go ahead and shout so he will hear you!”

  Then they fell silent.

  He returned to his bed stunned. What were they arguing about? What was it she had brought on herself? What greed? What miscalculation? He closed his eyes and bit his lip.

  “Oh God! What does that mean? Could it be true?” Why shouldn’t it? He himself had always wanted to play that game, but had been unlucky. So strong was his feeling of frustration he was completely carried away with it.

  “What a fool I have been!”

  He had a setback, suffering a further attack. For days life and death fought over him. He appeared determined to cling to life despite everything and despite telling himself it would be a long and losing battle.

  “God’s will be done!” he said.

  People said he had passed the critical stage, but it was known from the beginning that he would have to stay in bed indefinitely. He revealed his secret to nobody. When Radiya came in he kept his eyes closed. He bore her no grudge nor was he angry with her.

  “I have no right to hate her more than I hate myself,” he would tell himself.

  “If one day I can have a child by her, I will not hesitate, so the game of life will have its bright side as well as its dark,” he thought. And in the end he sighed. “What a fool I was! What a bad end I have come to!” He was not angry but he no longer had any confidence in space.

  One evening Radiya entered the room, her face flushed.

  “The Under Secretary of State has come to visit you,” she said.

  Bahjat Noor came in with his usual dignified bearing. He shook his hand and sat down as he said, “You look marvelous!”

  Othman was touched. “This is a great honor, Your Excellency.”

  “You des
erve to be honored. Good services cannot be forgotten.”

  Tears came to his eyes.

  “Your absence has created a vacuum that nobody else can fill,” said the Under Secretary.

  “You’re so kind…That’s why you say these things…”

  “Soon you’ll be all right and you’ll come back to us. I have brought you good news.” The man smiled while Othman gazed at him with incomprehension.

  “A decision has been made today to promote you to the position of Director General.” Othman continued to gaze at him blankly.

  “Right and justice have won in the end.”

  “I owe everything to your kindness,” murmured Othman.

  “His Excellency the Minister has asked me to convey to you his best wishes for a speedy recovery.”

  “I’m most grateful to His Excellency.”

  The man went away, leaving him in seventh heaven, as though he had been a messenger of mercy sent by the unknown. Othman received the congratulations of Radiya and her aunt with his eyes shut. And again he felt he no longer had any confidence in space.

  “How happy I am!” he heard her say.

  He savored his success tranquilly. He was now “His Excellency,” the occupant of the Blue Room, the authority on legal rulings and administrative directives, the inspiration behind perceptive instructions for wise administration and the efficient manipulation of people’s interests, one of God’s faithful empowered to do good and prevent evil.

  “My cup shall be full, Oh Lord,” he addressed himself to God, “the day I am enabled by Your gracious mercy to get up and exercise power and exalt Your word on earth.”

  But the doctor said to him, “What matters to me is your health, not your job.” Indeed, the doctor was unbendingly obdurate, and if his prognosis proved correct, that promotion would never take effect.

  “Health alone is not enough to make a true believer happy,” Othman said to him.

  “I’ve never heard that before.”

  “If I use up my sick-leave entitlement, I’ll be pensioned off.”

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about that.”

  Othman was depressed and he thought to himself, “Perhaps they only promoted me as an act of charity, knowing all the time I would not be able to take up the job.”