The day the leader was killed

whores and madams who would modestly inquire: Are we not more merciful than your great rulers? We are doing our utmost to entertain you whilst they toy with you for their own amusement.

To everlasting paradise, then, Zumurruda, Lahluba, Umm Taqiya, and all of you outcasts to whom we have been ungrateful until a day has come along bringing with it ominous heroes breeding poverty and defeat. Cheers, then, to those nights shrouded in smoke and ecstasy, nights devoted to the art of preening, when no efforts were spared for the sake of others. Content they were with simply eking out a living.

And then the rapacity of the others who gloated over the mishaps of the less fortunate.

This is what that untimely smile was intimating, a smile alighting on one brokenhearted in a mad world.

There is much regret and an immense yearning for forgiveness. One is ever so weary because there are so many questions about what can or cannot be done, about what should or should not be done whilst the looters are busy sharing the spoils. May God and all miracle workers and learned men step in to put an end to this long night of oppression!

Fawwaz and Hanaa came over to talk to me before retiring to bed.

“What’s in store for Elwan?” asked the man.

“All the best.

He’s strong and will get over his crisis in good time,” I said calmly and confidently.

“He’s free now and can freely make his own choice,” said Hanaa.

“Don’t forget that he is the one who made the decision

.,

I was hoping he would be back before I went in to sleep. An old — but new — idea occurred to me, and that is that one must both love the world and know how to shake off its fetters. Once again, I muttered to myself: so many dear ones gone. Have I really known them that long in this world of ours bent on devouring its own sons?

Elwan Fawwaz Muhtashimi

I played my part unembarrassed. I walked over to where Randa was seated at the office with my hand outstretched. “Heartiest congratulations,” I said.

“Thanks and good luck to you,” she muttered, throwing a quick glance in my direction. The moment no one was around, I seized the opportunity of telling her a few words from where I was seated close to her.

“I must admit I was hoping you’d make a better choice.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” she inquired calmly.

“Actually, I want to tell you that you deserve the very best.”

“How nice of you!” she said, smiling vaguely.

I told myself that I must close this chapter once and for all. Let us put up with the pain until it disappears altogether. If I give in to grief, I’ll go mad. When I heard that the boss had arrived, I immediately went over to him and said:

“Excuse

me,

I’ve come to congratulate you.”

“Had you not given up on the matter, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought myself,” he said in a sympathetic tone.

“You always do the right thing.”

“Thanks and good luck. From now on, you must think in terms of your own best interest.”

I did not know what to say, so he went on:

“The path ahead is clear and all you have to do is think lucidly.”

“An excellent piece of advice, sir,” I said as I was getting ready to go.

“I’ve been asked to invite

you…

that is, my sister has invited us to a small tea party to celebrate her moving into the new villa,” he said hurriedly.

Indeed the path is clear.

“I’d be happy to go,” I said.

I accepted the invitation, although the idea of selling myself had not occurred to me. I went there around six o’clock on a hot and humid evening. The villa was not far from Anwar Allam’s building: small and elegant, with a garden full of pink and purple rose bushes. I sat in a brand-new rose-colored living room, with canvas pictures hanging on the wall. Gulstan sat between us, clad in a white dress that accentuated her attractive silhouette.

“The party’s limited to just ourselves, for you have been invited as a member of the family,” said Anwar Allam.

“He’s the only one of your colleagues whose manners I like,” said Gulstan softly. I thanked her.

“Indeed, you’re quite right,” said Anwar Allam with a laugh.

We had tea and!

swallowed

a big piece of the cake.

“There’s talk about the aftereffects of sectarian strife,” he went on saying.

“What does this mean?” inquired Gulstan.

“Where’s the government?” I asked in turn.

“These are uncertain times,” answered Anwar.

“That poor generation of yours has all my sympathy,” said Gulstan with compassion, looking my way.

“And rebuke,” I added, irritated.

“Excuse me for a few minutes, I have some urgent phone calls to make,” said Anwar, standing up.

When we were alone, she drew close to me and murmured gently:

“People like you deserve the very best.”

I was wondering what she meant by that.

Politics or my own personal tragedy?

But I was suddenly aroused by the proximity of her ripe and attractive body. I stared at it with a look of utter shamelessness. All I wanted at the moment was to have her as my mistress.

“I’d like to be alone with you,” I whispered, my throat parched.

“I’d be delighted to be alone with a decent person like you,” she said sedately.

The electric current running through me came to a sudden halt. She was saying a great deal in the least possible words. Although she had put an end to my reckless dreams on the one hand, yet she seemed to beckon me on the other.

“I respect myself and appreciate those who respect themselves,” she said in an attempt to clarify herself.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” I said, concealing my disappointment.

“You’re welcome to come here at any time. I know a great deal about you, but you hardly know anything about me.”

Randa Sulayman Mubarak

He wants to get married as soon as possible and I can find no excuse for procrastinating. We decided to hold the celebrations in Gulstan Hanem’s villa. My father, though, was unable to attend. It was a silent party. The buffet was excellent and it was attended by the company’s top executives and a group of businessmen. I wore the inevitable mask of joy. In fact, I had long prayed — and was determined — to succeed. I had a genuine desire to try to make it work and to adjust to my new life. What I dreaded most was the possibility of finding Elwan among the guests, but he was not

there.

Although I was not attracted to him, I did not find him altogether repulsive. Imagine if Elwan had been the bridegroom tonight. What would he have done? I lived my whole life imagining I could not give myself to anyone but him. But, there it is, reality dictates a different set of options. Suffice it that I now feel that I could come to love Anwar one of these days.

In the days that followed, there was an uninterrupted stream of well-wishers, particularly on my side of the family.

But what about these men?

They come bearing gifts. We welcome them and offer them drinks. Night after night, this wretched stream of men, and some of them are most persistent. I was worn out by these permanent fixtures and by having to exert painstaking efforts at being courteous.

“You’ve so many friends in the business world!” I told him.

“Actually, they are our future,” he replied with a telling bluntness.

“What do you mean?” I inquired, perplexed.

“My job is worthless except in the eyes of a young employee. Our real future is in the private sector, in the