Chapter 13
“Wait, what…what are you saying!?” Razi is out of breath, flustered and exasperated.
“I am saying to you, my brother, that for me it was all just a vision, a dream induced by the poppy!”
“So you really didn’t…but then again, yes, yes…how could you have known…?”
“It’s the magic of the medicine,” Ibrahim soothes his friend. “It opens gateways of our consciousness we thought were close, just like Abbas and Zayn have been telling us.”
“The magic of the medicine…” Razi mutters. Then he shoots Ibrahim a hard, desperate look. “But what of Khepri, brother! She has not said anything, she has not acted as though she knows. But what if…” Razi breaks down again. He simply cannot stomach the thought of making his beautiful wife, the woman who has done so much for him, cry or feel unworthy. He can not stand even the thought.
Razi stares at Ibrahim. “Thank you, Ibrahim. You have saved me. Your vision has shown me the error of my own ways. I am going to cut things off with Sara.”
“This is good my friend. But still, how would Khepri know?” asks Ibrahim. “This was something that I saw, I didn’t even know it was real until you made it known, right here, right now.”
“You are right,” said Razi with a dark mystery in his eyes. “I will make sure my wife never, ever knows what I have done with Sara. She will never know I went against the word of Allah. Never!” Razi is almost shaking with passion.
Ibrahim is unsettled by his friend’s intensity. He can only nod and squeeze his friend’s hands. He feels pity for his friend. But behind that, he feels intoxicated by his own newfound power. The medicine has made him a soothsayer, a seer, a medicine man. He smiles inwardly, hiding his glee from Razi.
Chapter 14
A handful of days have passed since his friend’s confession. Ibrahim decides to speak to Razi about obtaining more of that magical powder he had used to take his journey into the mind. Ibrahim is hungry for more inspiration, for more power. He walks to Razi’s house, and as usual, is greeted by Khepri, who leads him into the study. And was she shorter than usual with him today? Ibrahim cannot tell.
Before Ibrahim enters, he overhears Razi talking to their mutual friend Ahmed about the night he had just had. How he felt so high, so out of his mind that it was like he was lost in a fairytale. How it felt as though the world he had entered was not his own. Ibrahim listens intently to Razi’s description of his high, and wonders if they are speaking of the same medicine as before, or perhaps something different, something even more potent and powerful.
Ibrahim then realizes that Razi had made eye contact with him, and was waving his hands to usher him inside.
“Come in, brother, come in. Ahmed, look who has joined us: the poet of Shoubra himself!”
Ibrahim sits and invites Razi to continue his story of the night before. Razi continues. “Do you know Ibrahim, Zayn showed up at my door yesterday and did a real number on us. He had us smoke the most incredible poppy tears. They made me feel like I was walking through the world of one of your stories. I felt so entranced and taken away that I am still high from it as we speak. It is unreal.”
Ibrahim is more than intrigued. “What was it,” he asks, eagerly. “Was it like, some kind of new kind of poppy?
“I’m not sure. I trust Zayn you know and of course, he more than delivered. But if you like the way you feel on those other poppy tears, I can assure you, you will feel even better with this stuff. Apparently, it is grown at a special altitude in the Hindu Kush of Afghanistan, and that land must be favored by the Gods, because this is God's very own personal medicine.”
“I, just…” Ibrahim stammers. He is almost drooling at the thought of another flight with the poppy, and feels entranced by the thought of going even deeper with this divine strain of poppy. “Do you…perhaps, have some?”
“What do you think, brother?” Razi laughs. “You think I’d tell you about the nectar of the Gods and not offer some to you? Come, let’s sit and journey together.”
Razi walks to the table where he opens a box. He pulls from it a spoon and a small container.
“What is this?” asks Ibrahim.
This is the divine nectar, my brother. This is much better than those other tears we had before.”
“It looks very different. Is it not a powder?” Ibrahim asks in surprise, as he had expected to see something similar to the tears he had already taken.
“Don’t worry Ibrahim,” said Razi. “It’s perfectly fine, you will love the way you feel with this. You will never want to return to normal life.” Razi winks at Ibrahim, in a way that makes Ibrahim squeamish. “Instead of that sting in our sinuses we felt when we snorted that other powder, thismedicine we are able to smoke.”
Ahmed is staring at Razi, perplexed. Ahmed knows that Razi is not as versed in these substances as Zayn, and thought that he might have wanted to wait until his more experienced friend arrived before embarking on this journey with these two naive lambs. Razi produces a strange and ornately decorated pipe from a dresser drawer, and instructs Ibrahim to smoke the new medicine. “Inhale as much as you can, friend. When you cannot inhale anymore, take a breath and then inhale more! You want to go very deep, do you not?”
Razi packs the tar-like substance in the mouth of the pipe’s long glass tube and holds it up to Ibrahim‘s mouth. Ibrahim takes the pipe, with a mix of reluctance and excitement in his eyes.
“Are you ready for your flight, my friend?” asks Razi
Ibrahim nods his head. Razi lights the tar, and as he does so, Ibrahim inhales more forcefully than he had ever inhaled before in his life. As though he is taking in his first breath of life, without realizing how close it was to his last.
Chapter 15
“What are you doing?” whispers Ahmed, a look of deep concern in his eyes.
“Ibrahim is closing in on me,” replies a breathless Razi in low frantic tones, clearly in a state of panic.
“He has found out about me and Sara, and I am not at all comfortable with him knowing. He even went as far as to write a story about it! I cannot let him ruin my life.” He whispers, low. “What if Khepri finds out?”
It is different that you know, Ahmed. You are the one who introduced me to Sara. I have a lot of respect and trust for you, my dearest friend.”
“So what do you intend to do Ibrahim?” Asked Ahmed
“I intend to silence the Poet of Shouba Street,” says Razi, darkly.
They both look over to Ibrahim, he is sitting in his chair, motionless. He looks like a small child who is lost deep in his dreams. His eyes are not open or fully closed, but somewhere in between.
“He will be so lost with this substance that he will be too scared to ever try these again and retire his ideas of going into his imagination this way. I saw what it did to Zayn, it was scary. That’s why he gave it to me, to get rid of it. He said he didn’t want anything else to do with it.”
“That’s why I am so concerned with this. I was there when Zayn asked you to get rid of it,” said Ahmed. “He said not to give it to anyone else. I am not sure this is a good idea, Razi.”
“It will work!” insisted Razi frantically.
Razi kneels down toward Ibrahim and lights the pipe once more. He takes a breath of it in his mouth and immediately blows it into Ibrahim’s partially opened lips.
Ahmed gasps, shocked at this sight. “Razi, let’s leave him. Let’s go for a walk,” said Ahmed, now fully frightened.
Ibrahim is slumped even more into his stupor. He begins to breathe heavily, and his eyes start rolling back in his head. As they roll, they are met with darkness, a kind of darkness Ibrahim has never before experienced outside of the black walls of sleep.
Ibrahim is floating just below the ceiling, gazing at himself slumped over in the chair. He looks so calm, so unconcerned. This however is a different Ibrahim from his last vision. This Ibrahim looks neither proud nor distinguished. Rather, he looks at peace.
Ibrahim begins to realize that his floating self is becoming more real than the stoned Ibrahim slumped over below him. He can see Razi and Ahmed worrying over the slumped Ibrahim below. Ahmed looks concerned, frantic. Razi looks… different. Is it relief he sees on his friend’s face? Ah, Ahmed, Ibrahim thinks. You poor fool…
The whole scene seems to be retreating, so, so far away...
Chapter 16
“Razi, he is not coming back! This is taking a lot longer than last night! Why is it taking so long for him to come back!?” Ahmed has panic in his voice.
Razi walks over to Ibrahim and begins to shake him violently. He didn’t think that the puff he blew into his mouth would have this long of an effect on Ibrahim.
“Pour some water on his face!” exclaims Ahmed, frozen in horror.
“Get me some ice!” yells Razi. “Get Khepri!! Bring ice from the cooler!! Bring wet towels, hurry!!”
Ahmed hurries out of the study, shaking with fear and regret.
Razi gazes into his friend’s calm, still, quiet face. “Too quiet,” he chokes. “Much too quiet for the Poet of Shoubra.” Razi fights back tears.
Ahmed and Khepri storm in the study with ice and wet towels. They are pouring cold water over their friend. They are shaking him, shaking themselves, yelling, fighting, scolding, cursing.
Ibrahim, meanwhile, is utterly tranquil, far above the fray. He is floating up towards the ceiling, farther and farther away from the chaotic scene below. Ah, Razi, he thinks. Do not worry so much over me, my good friend. My brother. Ahhh…if you only knew how peaceful I really am… Do not blame yourself Razi.
Ibrahim tries to communicate with his friend: I asked you for this medicine, friend. I sought you out. I chose to sniff the tears from my pinky. I chose to snort the long line of powder. I chose to smoke the tar. I wanted to go deeper than ever before. I wanted the glory that comes with fame. And now…now…all those vanities, all those goals and dreams and disappointments, all that cursing at the Gods. Oh, Munira… Munira… my love… I am so sorry….
It is the last thought the Poet of Shoubra would ever think. The final flourish of a rare and gifted imagination. Like a flare, it sparks brightly and is gone, leaving only its smoke as evidence of a light that once shone. And then, not even that. Nothing left except the silent procession of the wind, and the memories of those left behind.
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