Arabian Nights and Days by Naguib Mahfouz
“And what in your opinion was the motive behind the plot?”
“To revenge themselves on Aladdin because he had married Zubeida the daughter of God’s saint, al-Balkhi, who had refused to give her in marriage to Habazlam Bazaza because of his evil character and behavior.”
“Have you any evidence for what you are saying?”
“Aladdin’s innocent nature is beyond any evidence. Ask all the people living in the quarter about him. The plot is a reality and everyone believes in it. Had I any clear evidence I would have saved the neck of the innocent and blameless young man, but I place my hope in the sultan’s justice and his unequaled influence.”
Immediately the sultan had Ugr taken away and called for the governor of the quarter, al-Fadl ibn Khaqan. The man was brought before him, the lineaments of his face expressing fear and contrition. The sultan said to him, “Governor, I have no doubt that you are a virtuous man. I chose you for the post after you had been educated for it and as you had the experience for it. I command you by Almighty God to reveal to me the secret behind this affair, for I have no doubt that you are knowledgeable about it.”
“O God, I bear witness that I shall speak the truth,” mumbled the governor as he spread out the palms of his hands. Then, addressing his master, he said, “After the death of Aladdin I got to know about the whisperings of people regarding his innocence and the guilt of the others. I was alarmed as a man would be who has been brought up steeped with the ideologies of the true faith. I sent off my spies to all quarters and they were able to obtain the truth from the mouth of al-Mu’in ibn Sawi himself when he was drunk. I there and then determined to bring down the culprits. However, I…”
The governor fell silent, then said meekly, “However, I weakened, Your Majesty, for it was I who had tried Aladdin and sentenced him to be beheaded. I was frightened of the consequences of the truth being revealed and made known, for he who has killed a single soul has killed all people.”
“You feared the consequences for your reputation and your position as governor,” said the sultan.
The man lowered his head and remained silent.
“Did your private secretary know of the truth?” the sultan asked him.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said sadly.
“God has His own wisdom in His creation, and as for us we have the canonical law. Thus we give sentence that al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, Darwish Omran, and Habazlam Bazaza be beheaded; we also give sentence that al-Fadl ibn Khaqan and Haikal al-Zafarani be dismissed from their posts and their properties be confiscated.”
V
The leather execution mat was brought, together with the culprits. The executioner moved forward. At this the real Shahriyar could not stop himself from rising to his feet and saying in a loud voice, “Stop this farce!”
The guards leapt forward and the sultan called out from his dais, “Who has given you permission to talk, you mad stranger?”
“Wake up from your state of madness,” chided the sultan firmly. “You are addressing the sultan Shahriyar.”
The surprise silenced all tongues. Dandan and Shabeeb Rama took their positions alongside the sultan, their swords drawn. As for the sultan, he took from his pocket the ring of kingship and waved it in the other’s face. The false sultan, recovering from his amazement, jumped down from the dais, then prostrated himself before the sultan.
“Your slave, Ibrahim the water-carrier,” he said in a trembling voice.
“What’s the meaning of this farce?”
Quaking with terror, the man said, “Your pardon, Majesty! Give me permission to relate my story and forgive me my stupidity.”
VI
Ibrahim the water-carrier told his story to the sultan at the meeting chamber of the summer council in the palace.
“Since my childhood, Majesty,” he said, “I have been one of those who put their trust in God. I toil from dawn till dusk and though my earnings are limited, my heart is content and I get my pleasure from a pipe of hashish. God presented me with a great blessing when I married the widow of Gamasa al-Bulti and I never dreamt of eating meat other than on the feast of Greater Bairam. When the son of my friend Ugr the barber was killed my balance was disturbed and I heard people whispering. I was overcome by a sadness I had not known previously and I told myself that we poor had no one other than God. Destiny was concealing from me a surprise that I had never imagined, and I found a treasure outside the gate and became one of the richest of men. I thought—and this is the usual thing—to enjoy the wealth on my own, but my love for the poor pushed me to another path and I decided to set up an imaginary kingdom in which we could all be on an equal footing.”
“Hashish has consumed your mind,” said Shahriyar, smiling.
“I don’t deny that, for the idea would occur only to the mind of a hashish smoker. The vagabonds were very enthusiastic about the idea. Our choice fell on this deserted island where I crowned myself sultan and chose viziers, commanders, and men of state from among the barefooted hungry. We did not come together to act out our game other than at night, when we would be transformed from down-and-out vagabonds into great men of state, each in accordance with his situation and rank. The plot that brought about the death of Aladdin was the inspiration for us to hold each night a tribunal at which justice would take its course after it had been unable to do so in the world.”
“And you squandered the treasure, you hashish addict?” scoffed the sultan.
“There is only a little left, but we bought with it a happiness that cannot be reckoned in terms of money.”
VII
Though greatly delighted at the story of Ibrahim the water-carrier, Shahriyar said to Dandan, “Bring me up to date on what is being said about the death of Aladdin the son of Ugr the barber.”
“You will find the key, Your Majesty,” said the vizier, “with al-Fadl ibn Khaqan, so summon him and you can bring great influence to bear on him.”
“Do you think we should be guided by what the sultan Ibrahim the water-carrier did?” asked the sultan.
“In truth, Your Majesty,” said Dandan, “it was an extraordinary trial which affirms that hashish did not consume the whole of his mind.”
“I won’t hide from you the fact that I was also delighted at the judgment,” said Shahriyar.
Thus events proceeded: the transgressors fell and al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, Darwish Omran, and Habazlam Bazaza were beheaded and al-Fadl ibn Khaqan and Haikal al-Zafarani were dismissed from their posts and their property confiscated.
The Cap of Invisibility
I
“Abbas al-Khaligi the governor of the quarter, Sami Shukri the private secretary, Khalil Faris the chief of police—no depravity is to be expected from them in the near future,” said Sakhrabout listlessly.
“Why not?” asked Zarmabaha scornfully.
“They came to their positions following bitter experiences that toppled those who had transgressed.”
“Let us leave the rulers till ruling corrupts them, and look at that active young man Fadil Sanaan.”
“He is a living epitome of work that spoils our intentions and plans,” said Sakhrabout indignantly.
“What a target truly worthy of our skill and our wiles!”
Mirth crept into his voice as he said, “You’re an inexhaustible treasure, Zarmabaha.”
“Let’s think up together some delightful sport that is worthy of us.”
II
Fadil Sanaan was relaxing on the stairway of the public fountain after a hot summer’s day. He was always missing Aladdin and mourning him with a wounded heart, and he would ask himself angrily, “When will release from suffering come?”
He became aware of a man of radiant appearance and smiling countenance coming toward him and sitting down alongside him. They exchanged a greeting, but the man displayed toward him such attention that it was as though he had come there because of him. Fadil waited for him to give expression to his thoughts. When he did not do so, he said, “You are not, I belie
“Your instinct is right,” said the man in a friendly manner, “but I have chosen you to speak to.”
He stared at him with a wariness that he had learned from being pursued by plainclothesmen.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“That’s of no importance. What really matters is that I am a man of destiny and I have a gift for you.”
Fadil frowned, even more wary, and inquired, “Who has sent you? Speak openly, for I do not like riddles.”
“Nor do I,” he said, smiling. “Here is the gift—it makes anything else unnecessary.”
He extracted from the pocket of his gown a cap decorated with colored embellishments, the like of which he had never seen. He fitted it onto his head and in the twinkling of an eye he was invisible. Fadil was amazed and looked around him anxiously.
“Is it a dream?” he asked.
He heard the man’s voice asking with a laugh, “Have you not heard of the cap of invisibility? That’s what this is.”
The man took off the cap and he again assumed concrete form where he had been sitting. Fadil’s heart beat faster.
“Who are you?” he asked nervously.
“The gift is both real and tangible and any question beyond that is unimportant.”
“Do you really intend to give it to me?”
“It is for this reason that I have sought you out rather than anyone else.”
“And why me in particular?”
“And why did Ibrahim the water-carrier find the treasure? But do not squander your treasure as he did his.”
Fadil said to himself that the world was being created anew and that it behoved him to be careful of this present for saving mankind. Quickly his heart was filled with noble aspirations.
“What are you thinking about?” the man asked him.
“About beautiful things that will please you.”
“Tell me what you’ll do with it,” he asked cautiously.
“I shall do with it as my conscience dictates,” he said, his face radiant.
“Do anything except what your conscience dictates,” said the man.
The look in his eyes cooled and he was overcome by a sense of disappointment and disquiet as he inquired, “What did you say?”
“Do anything except what your conscience dictates—this is the condition. You are free in what you accept or refuse, but be careful not to be deceitful, for then you will lose the cap and you might well lose your life as well.”
“Then you are pushing me toward evil, you knave!”
“My condition is clear—don’t do what your conscience dictates to you. You must also not commit any evil.”
“Then what shall I do with it?”
“Between this and that are many things that bring neither profit nor harm. You are free.”
“I have lived an honorable life.”
“Continue it as you will, but in your turban and not with the cap. What, after all, did you reap from it?—poverty and prison from time to time.”
“That is my affair.”
“The time has come for me to go,” said the man, rising to his feet. “What do you say?”
His heart beat anxiously: it was a chance that did not present itself twice. He could not refuse. He said confidently, “An acceptable present and there’s nothing for me to fear from it.”
III
Right away the next morning Fadil Sanaan went off like the breeze that is present everywhere but which is not seen. The new magical experience took control of him. He tried to be a hidden moving spirit, so happiness made him forget everything, even his daily toil in search of a living. By being hidden he felt that he was rising up and taking charge, that he was reaching equal terms with the hidden powers, that he was in control of the reins of affairs, and that the scope for action stretched out without limit before him. It was a unique period during which he was at rest from his body, from the eyes of men, and from human laws. He pondered that it might all have been made possible for some scoundrel and he thanked the good luck that had singled him out for attention. Because of his great happiness he was not really aware of himself till evening came. Then he remembered that Akraman and Umm Saad were waiting for his limited amount of dirhams so they could prepare supper and buy the ingredients for making the sweetmeats. Worried, he realized that he could not return to his home in the rooming house empty-handed. He passed by a butcher’s shop; the man was calculating his day’s earnings, while his young lad had moved to one side. He decided to take three dirhams, that being the amount of his daily earnings, telling himself that he would return them when things were easier. He found himself entering the shop and taking the money. He came out into the street again feeling down at heart, guilty for the first time in his life of stealing. He looked toward the shop and saw the butcher raining down blows on his young assistant, then driving him out, accusing him of theft.
IV
After supper he thought of cheering himself up by visiting the Café of the Emirs while wearing his cap. It would afford chances for some innocent pranks, though he would have to be careful not to involve himself in any dishonorable action as he had done at the butcher’s shop.
For the first time he saw familiar faces without their being able to see him. His gaze passed scornfully over Hasan al-Attar, Galil the draper, Ugr the barber, Shamloul the hunchback, Master Sahloul, Ibrahim the water-carrier, Suleiman al-Zeini, Abdul Qadir al-Maheeni, Ragab the porter, and Ma’rouf the cobbler. He heard Ugr asking, “What has kept Fadil Sanaan?”
Shamloul the hunchback answered in his high-pitched voice, laughing, “Perhaps some catastrophe has befallen him.”
He determined to punish the buffoon. The waiter came bearing glasses of karkadeh, prepared from the petals of hibiscus flowers, and suddenly the tray was spilt over the hunchback’s head. With the drink all over him, the hunchback jumped up shouting, while the waiter stood there dumbfounded. The men laughed mockingly. The owner of the café gave the waiter a slap and began apologizing to the sultan’s jester. Ingratiating himself in an exaggerated way, the owner himself brought some fresh glasses of karkadeh, which this time were spilt over the head of Suleiman al-Zeini. Wonderment and secret delight took over, with more than one voice calling out, “It must be the hashish!”
Ugr, freed of constraints and forgetting his sorrows, laughed outright, but he was not allowed to enjoy his laughter, for he received a resounding slap on the back of his neck. Turning round angrily, he found Ma’rouf the cobbler behind him and struck him in the face with his fist, and the two of them were soon locked in battle. Darkness fell when a stone struck the lamp. In the gloom blows were exchanged, tempers rose, and they shouted and fought until all were strewn about the street in an ugly state of madness and fear.
V
Fadil practiced his normal life and hid the cap in his pocket until such time as he should need it. He told himself that he had derived nothing from it up to now except that it had caused him to steal and to commit some meaningless pranks. He was anxious and depressed. He told himself that he could not ignore a rare opportunity like this. He had not had the chance of thinking things over, but what was the advantage of doing so? If it was impossible for him to do good with the cap, then what could he do with it?
He was resting on the stairway of the public fountain after sunset a short distance from a peddler selling watermelons. He saw someone going toward the man to buy one. His limbs trembled when he saw that it was a prison warder well known for torturing his fellow creatures. He saw him making his way with the watermelon toward a nearby alley where it seemed that he was living, so he followed him. When he was sure there were no passersby he put on the cap and vanished from sight. Having forgotten the pledge to himself, he drew out the knife which he used for cutting the sweetmeats. Let him at least find out how the man who had given him the cap would prevent him from doing what he wanted. He came up to the jailer, who was not aware of his presence, and aimed a deadly blow at his neck. The man fell down
The feeling of victory exhilarated him. He could do what he wanted! He did not leave the scene but stayed on to see what would happen. He saw the people gathering in the light of lanterns; he saw the police come and heard the jailer utter the name of the watermelon-seller before breathing his last; he saw the police arresting the innocent vendor. Fadil was shocked and disturbed. What was there between the jailer and the vendor that had made him bring him down? His unease became impossible to bear.
“There is no choice,” he told himself, “but to save this innocent man.”
At this he saw the owner of the cap in front of him, saying, “Be careful that you don’t break the pact.”
“Did you not let me kill the criminal?” said Fadil in panic.
“Not at all,” said the other. “You did not kill the criminal but his twin, who is a good and blameless man.”
VI
From stealing, to committing stupid pranks, to murder. He had fallen into the abyss. When the watermelon-seller was beheaded the following day, he found himself overcome by a state of complete despair. He roved around aimlessly in the lanes like a madman. He hated himself so profoundly that he hated the world itself and his everlasting dreams.
“To confess and to face the penalty, that is all that is left to me,” he whispered to himself.
Then he saw the owner of the cap in front of him, saying, “Beware!”
“May you be accursed!” he shouted angrily.
The other disappeared, saying, “Is this the recompense for someone who has handed you the key to power and pleasure?”
Bitterness enveloped him, mixed with heated madness, and he began to drink, summoning the devils from their hiding-places. He brought to mind thoughts that were heavy with lust, thoughts that tempted him and were driven off by piety. They manifested themselves through radiations of red-hot madness in two shapes: that of Qamar the sister of Hasan al-Attar and that of Qut al-Quloub the wife of Suleiman al-Zeini. He told himself: “Seeing that the wine is lodged in my stomach, why should I fear being drunk? Nothing remains for me but to submit gracefully to the curse, so let me raise myself to the skies, let the devils burst forth from their bottles, and let punishment come crowned with victims.”