A Naïve Boy and a Cultured Cat
A reading of Ahmad Bahgat’s novel
The Novel and its Author
The fabulistic novel A Conversation between a Naïve Boy and a Cultured Cat (Ar. Ḥiwār bayna ṭifl sādhij wa-qiṭṭ muthaqqaf) (1988) tells the story of a ten-year-old boy and his remarkable relationship with a stray cat. One day, the boy finds a cat in a grocery store and decides to take it home with him. The cat, however, soon proves to be a very unusual tomcat — that is, a very educated and mannerly cat. The story takes the form of a dialogue between the boy and the cat, where the narrator is no one other than the boy himself, now an adult, who in retrospect relates his childhood memories.
This very fantastical tomcat accompanies the boy through the travails of youth and shares his wisdom of life. The conversations between the cat and the boy — who naturally gets older as the story progresses — are sometimes light-hearted and humorous on the verge of satire; at other times deep and meditative, dealing with subjects, such as God, spirituality, love, and the secrets and mysteries of life. Yet the cat remains throughout the story somewhat mysterious as he does not disclose much about himself nor is his “person” much delved into, and there might even be suggestions of a dubious, but unconfirmed, case of metamorphosis or reincarnation.
The implied audience of the novel is seemingly difficult to pinpoint. Whereas the sporadically occurring illustrations tend to suggest a work put forward to a younger audience, the textual and ideational structures of the work suggest a somewhat older audience. Moreover, the author, Ahmad Bahgat (1932–2011), plays with the technique of intertextuality by incorporating into the novel verses of Eastern poetry by Rumi, a rubāʿiyya (four-lined verse) by Omar Khayyam (d. 1122) from Nishapur, as well as poetry by T. S. Eliot, together with other anecdotes that occasionally appears in the text.
Ahmad Bahgat, born in Cairo in 1932, is most importantly remembered in the Arab world as a prolific writer and a socially critical journalist. In his early years, Bahgat studied law at Cairo University, however, after his graduation, he began his career as a journalist. His writing is characterized by religious subjects, Islamic spirituality, and satire. He also wrote books specifically aimed at children, such as the best-seller Animals in the Quran (Ar. Qiṣaṣ al-ḥayawān fī al-Qurʾān) (1987) and God’s Prophets (Anbiyāʾ Allāh) (1972), and like that of many of his other works were especially dedicated to the Archangel Gabriel in hopes of earning his intercessory prayers.
Bahgat was known for his love for animals, a love which he anchored in religion. He regarded all animals as God’s creatures from which man could learn something; while the dog teaches human beings how they should receive and let love in [into their lives], the cat teaches humans how the neighbor (i.e. the cat) supplies us with love. It is these kinds of life lessons that the anonymous boy in A Conversation between a Naïve Boy and a Cultured Cat experiences by accompanying his unique new-found animal friend.
The Path of ‘Love’
The cat teaches the boy about the different rules and manifestations of love, some of which are considered blameworthy, or even self-deceptive. When the by now probably somewhat older protagonist discloses to the cat his love for the girl next door, the cat reproaches him for his childish and superficial understanding of love. To which the boy responds:
“You don’t know how much I love her… Her existence has become my life’s sole perfume… and meaning.”
The cat responds:
“Human love is childishness of the heart. It’s stupidity if you exceed its boundaries… However, it becomes maturity, and a wisdom, if you love the Maker, and not the image... If you regard all that which you see of human beauty as an effect of His creation” (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 100)
The concept of love for the sake of God (al-ḥubb fī Allāh) must be what the cat alludes to in this exchange of words with the boy. In his immaturity, according to the cat, the boy confuses love and inclination, the need for love and love in itself. The cat bluntly informs the boy that he will love tens of faces and tens of images, or forms, over the course of his life, and each time he will foolishly proclaim it to be the love of his life. There’s a clear religious theme going on here.
The sometimes human mistake to believe that one possesses one’s beloved (al-maḥbūb), the cat explains, is the fastest way to kill love. Inevitably, therefore, the boy is mistaken in his adolescent ardor when he claims that he loves the girl next door. Soon after, he also commits the great error of believing that he owns another created being by virtue of this puppy love of his. Hence the episode’s moral is conveyed through a religious notion that love for the sake of God, besides being the only true and sincere love, also incorporates a recognition that one does not possess any real power or ability over one’s beloved.
Even love between created beings has its rules, and the cat berates the boy after an incident in which he flaunted his imagined state of ownership over the cat in front of his friends. In this episode, the cat, in his advisory function, presents a forthright challenge to the contradictory nature of the boy’s love. The cat asks the boy how it comes that he can claim to love a unique created being, with free will, while treating it like an object (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 14). While the boy might assume the role of the cat’s relative owner or possessor, as with other physical and non-physical things, he would never be able to do so in an absolute sense. The cat seeks to instill into the boy a kind of metaphysical knowledge that no one can assume more for themselves other than the free will and discretion which they have been granted (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 14).
The Path of ‘Pain’
As for ‘pain,’ it appears in various shapes and forms in the story: participation in someone else’s grief; the sorrow upon the death of a loved one; the impact of hurtful words of others; and a general sense of disorientation and loss. In an episode that includes the boy’s quick-tempered mother, the boy experiences something along the way of compassion. It begins with the boy mimicking the cat’s way of drinking, and the cat, in turn, mimics the human way of drinking. Upon seeing this, the mother of the boy hits the cat that, horrified, rushes toward the door, which ends up slamming on its delicate tail. The boy becomes overwhelmed by empathy and concern for the cat when confronted by its broken and bleeding tail and its laments of suffering, which the author represents by employing a simile that further alludes to the religious paradigm of the story:
His mewing bored into my mind like the staff of Moses into the stone (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 14)
Like the stone that was struck apart by the staff, and from which the twelve springs were made to spurt, the boy begins to compete with the stone in weeping. Following the incident, the boy is struck by the realization that pain separates one created being from another. This probably refers to a sense of isolation and human ineptness that may arise and become increasingly apparent when a person is left to their own pain. The agonizing sight of his wounded friend, incites the boy to act in charity.
As with the other episodes that deal with the subject of pain (of various kinds), a figurative parable of a sea journey is told:
My craft was the broken tail of the cat... and my sails were the salt that found in the tears. Tears and sobs, and the unrest in the chest, took the place of the waves’ movement. I do not remember, what I said to God. (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 19)
Later on, when the boy is approaching the age of twenty, his grandmother passes away due to an illness. She was the only woman, since his childhood, with whom he had a close relationship and truly felt loved. In fact, to the now young man, the grandmother was “the very word of love itself” (kalimat al-ḥubb dhātuhā) (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 30). In connection with her death, everything around the protagonist seemingly also passes away. Amidst a jumble of grief and despair enters again the image of the sea, upon which the grief over his grandmother unfolds to a personal wayfaring to Divine love (al-ḥubb al-ilāhī). This is when the protagonist becomes aware of the Divine Mercy which appears to have enclosed the grandmother in an afterlife.
For the young man, this marks a turning point, “a coming of age,” where grief lets itself be converted into love. Once again, the narrative hires a poetical mode in its representation of the protagonist’s experiences. One that draws to mind poetic Sufi imagery. In a flood of tears emerges a craft of sandalwood; a painting of abounding light and huge waves, on which Divine mercy smiles at his late grandmother, who is reciting verses of Scripture, over and over. This marks the day when the young man finally embarks upon the spiritual path paved with love and awe.
The sea imagery reappears a few more times later in the story. One example is the episode in which the girl next door, with whom the boy was in love, moves to Alexandria. This time, however, the sea contrastingly freezes to ice and all life therein dies. The background may be somewhat profane, yet the author invokes in the reader’s mind the story of Jonah. Analogously, therefore, the boy is left to free himself from his heart’s sorrow through the grace of God.
The sun had barely died before the sea suddenly froze to ice. I seized the boats that plowed through it […] The fish died abruptly when they got covered by the chest of ice. One of the whales resisted, but was eventually caputred in the ice… Jonah was caught in the detained whale’s abdomen. Suddenly, the whole world was filled with a coldness. (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 54)
The Strain of Sufism
The story continuously alludes to a tradition of Islamic spirituality, namely Sufism (al-taṣawwuf), as the author portrays the boy’s inner struggle with his cupidity or ego (nafs), in search of sincerity (ikhlāṣ) in devotion and humility in his relationship with creation and those that he loves. Possibly, this points toward the Sufi concepts of riyāḍa, ‘exercise [of self-discipline],’ and akhlāq, that is, a refinement of one’s inner character through a deep-rooted ethical code in human — and non-human — relations. Likewise, it appears that subsequent passages further illustrate the boy’s spiritual development, or coming of age. The older he gets, the more he seems to be able to receive and process the sometimes cryptic statements made by the cat:
“At night, my eyes can see many times as much as they can see during the day, and that which I want to see truly — I do not look at with my eyes” (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 15)
Indeed, it is tempting to imagine that the character of the cat adopts the role of the spiritual guide (murshid), or “upbringer” (murabbī), along a Sufi path. Among the tasks to which the murshid is devoted are raising an earnest aspirant (murīd) on the spiritual path and equipping him with essential knowledge and tools — both “exoteric” and “esoteric.”
As an extension of this Sufi-inspired literary discourse, the narrator himself wittingly employs wordplay when recalling his childhood. The reader finds what appears to be a conscious play with colors and faint processes of transition, or passage. The play with words nevertheless suggests a process of coming of age; an inevitable transition from the excused ignorance of an innocent child to what must be the discernment of an accountable adult. During this process of transforming into an adult, however, there still is something intrinsic from the child that needs to be borrowed and present.
My excuse was that I did not know. I did not understand. I was not cognizant! My excuse was that my hair was black in color, and my heart still white. When the excuses got many and sunk to the bottom, and my hair matured and shifted to white, the heart borrowed from the hair its ripe, black color. And so, the earth again resumed its course in space. (Bahgat, Ḥiwār, p. 22)
Final Thoughts
In the short, yet intriguing, novel A Conversation between a Naïve Boy and a Cultured Cat both love and pain are spoken of as possible spiritual paths to the Divine and self-awareness. In fact, it appears as if the two paths often intertwine, and one experience does not necessarily occur in the absence of the other. It might also be the case that pain often culminates in love. The two prevailing themes of love and pain respectively, and connectedly, set the paradigm of the story that integrates its religious ethos. This ethos often manifests itself in the form of Sufi spirituality by sharing its literary language and conventional thought. A tradition in which the aspirant, the murīd, sits at the feet of his spiritual upbringing, murabbī, benefitting from his secrets and words of wisdom.
It is quite noteworthy that the author, Ahmad Bahgat, let this, by tradition, very refined and often scholastic journey take place in an unexpectedly ordinary setting, and an even more unexpected relationship. Namely, a childhood home where a fantastic connection between a small boy and a mysteriously cultured stray cat is built and nourished.
All translations of the Arabic original into English are my own.
References
al-ʿAjam, Rafīq (1999), ”akhlāq,” ”akhlāq al-ṣūfiyya,” in Mawsūʿat muṣṭalaḥāt al-taṣawwuf al-islāmī. Beirut: Maktabat Lubnān Nāshirūn.
Bahgat, Ahmad (2009), Ḥiwār bayna ṭifl sādhij wa-qiṭṭ muthaqqaf. Cairo: Dār al-Shurūq.
Al-Qushayri, Abu ‘l-Qasim (2007), Al-Qushayri’s Epistle on Sufism. Translated by Alexander D. Knysh. Reading: Garnet Publishing.
Ṭāhir, ʿUmar (2011), “ʿIndamā yataḥaddathu al-ustādh Aḥmad Bahjat,” digital edition, Maktūb, Akhbār Yahoo. (No longer accessible online)
