I could clearly glimpse the delight overflow from my father’s face as
he continued his tour at the heavenly gardens of the Regent as if he was
attempting to consume the sap of the distilled lives that had
entrenched their feet and souls deep into that place generations ago.
His gaze was complex and profound, always stretching to the other end;
for him a tree there was not merely a tree anymore; it was a creature
that for our sake had abandoned one of its extremities to continue its
eternity while being deprived of the ability to move. The tour had been
more glamourous whenever the sun golden strands dusted off the London
carpet.
That day fell in Al Murzim – The Announcer (Beta Canis Majoris) of the
moon calendar which lasts for 13 days and contains one mansion which is
Al Thira’ (The arm). The harvesters gave it the name of “The Color
Cooker” believing that its Simoom and heat blizzards are what caused
dates to ripen (be cooked). That season is known for bounties of ripen
dates, lemon, pomegranate and most of the summer’s fruits and towards
its end the rollers start to migrate.
Perhaps in a few days the table would have been filled with
Murzim-cooked dates and we might had head towards those gardens with
some of Al Thira’ pomegranate and lemons. Perhaps birds would have flown
by and we would have remembered the migrating rollers.
My father’s was peaceful bearing a pure smile while pealing the layers
of beauty to reach its core. This tranquility was only disturbed by
flagrant dogs attempting to muddle the purity of the moment; some are
soiling the ground and some are spreading their legs to “irrigate” a
tree, some are endlessly barking and some are just showing hostility.
On the other hand, something would make such scenes recede and
eventually disappear. The frown painted on my father’s face disappeared
when he saw a Chihuahua engaged in a fight with a Doberman triple its
size, a Great Dane, or even an Afghan dog, which had been brought by
British troops from its homeland. Once we diverted our sight a bit, we
would find a Humongous Caucasian dog dragging a thin man, so thin one
would recall the saying of Al Mutanabbi:
“My slender body rendered me a man who if did not utter a word would have been invisible”
Yet a motionless dog might be seen gazing while his owner is whistling or even shouting as if its ears are blocked by tar.
All of a sudden, a Cerberus from Hades underworld might appear. In
front of it, other dogs might seem to have lost their memory wishing
they could meow like cats to make him move his eyes away and leave them
in peace.
Sometimes women would take the scene inducing my father to recall the
story of a young Sheikh named Al Mahroosi who had a petite lean posture.
“Whenever a tender voluptuous woman passed by him” said my father while
trying to contain a laugh; “Al Moahroosi would wonder how he would beak
this wild mare with his collapsing body, a mare robustly stomping the
ground to remind it of its presence”. He continued: “Al Mahroosi would
glance women from the corner of his eye and if he made eye contact with
any of them he would promptly find another safe place to gaze at”. My
father recalled “Whenever Al Mahroosi was about to travel to London, his
chest would shiver and tremble as if it’s about to pop out. The man
definitely needed to be equipped with a genome in order to identify,
decipher and comprehend beauty”.
What would Al Mahroosi do if one of those gigantic Cerberus hounds of
hell decided to abandon its master and aggressively pursue Al Mahroosi
