Tales and Stories

Chapter 8 - Arabic Philosophy

“Splendid.” Kifkef cried, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Now that was a real story.”

“Tell me, boys - Do you believe in fairies too?” Gypsy Lou sneered.

“It does not surprise me that an infidel should doubt the limits of Allah’s creation.” Kifkef snorted with an upturned nose. But then, realising this was hardly a response to win the affections of the dusky Spanish woman, he relented:

“However, perhaps some things must first be seen to be believed. Or maybe they must first be believed to be seen. Or may-“

“Kifkef,” Gypsy Lou growled, “If all the bars have shut by the time you’ve finished your little lecture on Arabic philosophy, then I swear on the graves of my first three husbands that I will slit open the vein in your wrist and squeeze out a drink from that.”

Baba Gene looked up from mixing the tobacco with charas in his palm to see if the serenity of his dhuni was threatened. But Kifkef merely grinned and wagged his head a little.

“What is life without risk?” He asked, a little facetiously, “And is it not far better to live on one’s feet than die on one’s knees?”

Baba Gene demurred.

“I think the expression is ‘to die on one’s feet is better than-“

“I prefer it my way.” Kifkef continued, finding his stride. “And it was this that I liked about young Adiv in your last story - He understood that this life is only given to us on loan and that it will be reclaimed all too soon.

And so it is as well that we do not hang onto every dying moment. Each second of our lives is like a poker chip given to us on credit - We must gamble each one if we are to gain any lasting rewards. Listen now.

The Story of the Gambler