wife and plenty of money. The truth is that a man may be happy with his niche as a spouse, an employee, a father, or a son and yet be condemned to suffer various travails or even death by virtue of the fact that he is a man.'
Whether Ahmad was sentenced to prison this time or released, the heavy, glowering prison gates would always hover at the horizons of his life. He asked himself again, 'What is pushing me down this dazzling and dangerous road unless it is the human being that lurks deep inside of me, the man who is conscious of himself and aware of his common, historic, human condition? What distinguishes a man from all other creatures if not his ability to condemn himself to death by his own free will?'
Ahmad felt dampness coursing through his legs and weakness penetrating his joints. Snores echoed through the room with a regular rhythm. Then, between the bars of the small window, the first feeble rays of delicate light were visible.
169
Kamal despondently followed the physician out of the bedroom. Catching up with the man in the sitting room and gazing at him with questioning eyes, Kamal heard him say calmly, 'I'm sorry to inform you that the paralysis is total.'
Feeling miserable, Kamal asked, 'Is that serious?'
'Of course! And she's also suffering from pneumonia. I'm prescribing an injection so she can get some rest.'
'Isn't there any hope she'll recover?'
The doctor was silent for a time and then replied, 'Our lives are in God's hands. For what it's worth, my judgment as a physician is that she has three days at the most.'
Kamal received this prediction of death resolutely and escorted the physician to the door of the house before returning to the bedroom. His mother was asleep or so it seemed. The thick blanket revealed only a pale face with lips closed but slightly awry. Aisha, who was standing by the bed, walked toward him, asking, 'What's wrong with her, brother? What did the doctor say?'
From her station by the head of the bed, Umm Hanafi observed, 'She's not speaking, master. She hasn't said a single word.'
Kamal reflected, 'Her voice will never be heard again'. Then he told his sister, 'An attack of high blood pressure combined with a slight cold. The injection will help her rest.'
Aisha commented, perhaps to herself, 'I'm afraid. If she lies in bed like this for a long time, life in our house will surely be unbearable.'
Turning from her to Umm Hanafi, he inquired, 'Have you told the others?'
'Yes, master. Mrs. Khadija and Mr. Yasin will be here at once. What's wrong with her, master? This morning she was hale and hearty.'
She had been! He could attest to that. As always each morning, he had passed by the sitting room before rushing off to al-Silahdar School. Taking the cup of coffee she had handed him, he had said, 'Don't go out today. It's very cold.'
Showing him her gentle smile, she had replied, 'How can I have a good day if I don't visit your master al- Husayn?'
He had protested, 'Do as you like. You're stubborn, Mother.'
She had murmured, 'Your Lord preserves us'. When he was leaving, she had said, 'May our Lord make all your days happy ones.'
That was the last time he would see her conscious. The news of her illness had reached him at school this noon, and he had returned home, accompanied by the doctor who had just predicted her death. Only three days were left. How many more did he have?
Going over to Aisha, he asked, 'When and how did this happen?'
Umm Hanafi answered for her: 'We were in the sitting room. She rose and started toward her room to put on her coat prior to going out. She told me, 'When I finish my visit to al-Husayn, I'll call on Khadija.' She went to the bedroom, and the moment she entered I heard something fall. Rushing inside, I found her stretched out on the floor between the bed and the wardrobe. I ran to her, calling for Mrs. Aisha.'
Aisha said, 'I came as fast as I could and discovered her here. We carried her to the bed, and I started asking her what was the matter. But she didn't respond. She didn't say anything. When is she going to speak, brother?'
He answered uneasily, 'When God wills.'
Retreating to the sofa, he sat down and began to look sorrowfully at the pale, silent face. Yes, he should gaze at it for a long time. Soon he would be unable to. This very room would no longer be the same, and the characteristics of the whole house would change as well. There would be no one in the building to call 'Mother'. He had not imagined that her death would cause his heart such pain. Washe not already well acquainted with death? Of course he was. He was old enough and experienced enough not to be frightened by death, but the sting of an eternal separation was agonizing. Perhaps his heart could be criticized for suffering like a novice's despite all the pain it had experienced. How much she had loved him! How much she had loved all of them! How much she had loved everything in existence!
'But your soul only pays attention to such fine qualities when losing someone,' Kamal thought. 'At this critical moment your memory is crowded with images of places, times, and events having a profound impact on you. Light overlaps darkness as the blue of early morning blends with the roof garden, the glowing brazier of the coffee hour mingles with religious legends, and the dove's cooing mixes with sweet songs. Heart of an infidel, this was a magnificent love. Tomorrow you may truly declare that death has claimed the person you loved most. Perhaps your eyes will fill with tears until old age reproves you. The tragic vision of life is not free of an infantile Romanticism. It would be far worthier of you to view life courageously as a drama with a happy ending called 'death.' But ask yourself how much longer you will continue wasting your life. Your mother dies after concluding a lifetime of achievements. What have you done?'
He was roused by footsteps as Khadija entered the room in a state of shock. She made straight for the bed, calling to her mother and asking what had happened. His pain was compounded by this scene, and fearing that his sangfroid would desert him, he fled to the sitting room. Yasin, Zanuba, and Ridwan arrived almost immediately. After shaking hands with them, Kamal told them about his mother's condition without going into details. They went into the bedroom, leaving him alone until Yasin emerged to ask, 'What did the doctor tell you?'
Kamal answered despondently, 'Paralysis and pneumonia. Everything will be over in three days.'
Yasin bit his lip and said mournfully, 'There is not any power or might save God's'. Taking a seat, he muttered, 'The poor woman the whole thing comes so suddenly. Hadn't she complained of feeling poorly of late?'
'Not at all. As you know, she never complained. But she did seem tired at times.'
'Shouldn't you have called the doctor earlier?'
'She detested nothing so much as consulting a physician.'
Ridwan joined them after a while and told Kamal, 'I think she should be moved to the hospital, Uncle.'
Shaking his head sadly, Kamal answered, 'It wouldn't do any good. The pharmacist will send a nurse he knows to administer the injection.'
They fell silent, their concern evident on their faces. At this moment Kamal remembered a matter that courtesy required he should not neglect. So he asked Yasin, 'How is Karima?'
'She'll have her baby this week, or that's what the woman physician says.'
Kamal murmured, 'May our Lord take her by the hand….'
Yasm lamented, 'The baby will come into the world while the father is in detention.'
The doorbell rang. It was Riyad Qaldas. After greeting his friend, Kamal escorted him to the study. On the way up, Riyad explained, 'I asked for you at the school, and the secretary gave me the news. How is your mother?'
'She's paralyzed, and the doctor says it will all be over in three days.'
Riyad looked glum and inquired, 'Can't anything be done?'
