Kismet

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Yes, yes, yes.

Rise and pray for all is writ.

All is writ.

If everything is written down,

what's the use of getting up?

Oh, Father. You gave me

the whole blanket again.

- That's untrue.

- You mean, I took it?

I mean, it is not a whole blanket.

Only half.

Only enough to cover one small girl.

It's empty.

We ate the last loaf for supper.

- Don't you remember?

- Stomachs have no memories.

And I at the moment am all stomach.

Not even a crumb.

Perhaps today will be kind to us.

Allah, I make a prayer for my daughter.

And I, for my father.

Let this day spare her

the monkey bites of hunger and want.

Let my verses sell in profusion...

...that my daughter may eat

and prosper and wear shoes.

I pray the unselfishness

of my father's prayer be noted.

Hmm.

Remove us from Earth

If we've nothing to stay for.

They pray the best...

...who have something to pray for.

Oh, look.

Look, the camel likes your rhymes.

- See, it's an omen.

- I thank you.

Rhymes. Rhymes for sale.

Rhymes. Fine rhymes,

sweet rhymes have I.

Rhymes for sale.

Poetry in profusion.

Rhymes to help you sell your wares.

Charm your wives. Educate your children.

Ah. There's a won'thy citizen.

A rhyme for any purpose you name.

What use has a butcher for rhymes?

Sir, to increase your sales.

What meat do you sell today?

Nothing. Nothing but leftovers of mutton.

Good, good.

The haunch of the paunch

Or the rib of a sheep

Is tasty and tender,

Though priced a bit steep.

The part that you can buy

With no financial frown

Is on the ground

When the sheep's sitting down.

You're mad. Mad.

A man can sell anything in the world

except poems.

He can sell poisons, emetics,

false noses, but no poems.

Alms for love of Allah.

- Has your hunger grown?

- Like a magic tree.

Alms for the love of Allah.

There are fresh oranges this morning

at the Bazaar of the Vendors.

- I'll be there.

- Do not take so many.

- They interfere with your speed of foot.

- Oh, my father's wisdom always guides me.

Alms for the love of Allah.

Alms for love of Allah.

Alms for love of Allah.

Oh, great master...

...thou shalt live if thou shalt give.

- Ah!

May though soul burn by fire,

O thou dog.

A father sending his daughter to steal.

Could anything be baser than that?

Take note, Allah,

how low a human can sink to the bottom.

Alms for the love of Allah.

Sir, do you wish to purchase a poem?

Poem? Are you not a beggar?

I beg your pardon.

Do I look like a beggar?

Alms for love of Allah.

Alms for love of Allah.

Open thy purse and let the

inflicted bend over the house of Mecca.

Hard father, may Allah ruin thee forever.

Alms for the love of Allah.

You can't beg here.

This is one of the best begging locations

in Baghdad.

- Oh?

- Why do you think this space is empty?

It's not empty. I'm here.

It must remain empty

until old Hajj returns from Mecca.

That begging place belongs to him.

My dear verminous friends,

I am a cousin to old Hajj.

- That's impossible.

- Please, come, consider.

Only a Hajj may sit here. That is the law.

Would I dare risk it if I were not a Hajj?

- Omar.

- Would I?

Alms for the love of Allah.

- Oh, may Allah give thee ease.

- Alms for a starving brother.

- May Allah give thee ease.

Alms for the love of Allah.

Oh, stop it.

Alms for the love of Allah.

Alms for the love of Allah.

Alms for the love of Allah.

What's this? Where's old Hajj?

Hajj has gone to Mecca, great sir.

Yeah, this fellow claims to be

a member of the family.

A customer of Hajj's, I presume?

I am taking over his practice.

All my life, I have given one dinar

each morning to Hajj the Beggar.

I am too old to change beggars.

You say you're too old

to change beggars.

Your attitude strikes me as strange.

It's easy enough to change beggars.

What's difficult is to beg change.

Not bad. Ha-ha.

Not bad.

Here, you deserve encouragement. Here.

One dinar is not enough

to encourage me.

- Take it. Take it.

- No, it's too little. You're too stingy, no.

Now, the beggars tell us what to give.

Well, here.

- But not for the beggar, for the poet.

- I thank you.

- You disgrace us.

- We mustrt seem to be greedy.

- We're not supposed to notice the amount.

- It's the spirit behind the gift that counts.

Never have I seen a profession

more keenly in need of new blood.

As of now, this business

is under new management.

Alms for the love of Allah.

Give me a few dozen dinar, my friend.

And an already pleasant morning

will be made pleasanter for both of us.

If you do not wish my blessing,

I'll be happy to give you my curse.

I do not give money away.

I'm a businessman.

May the graves of your ancestors

vanish in the spring floods.

May your wives grow warts

on their noses.

May your taxes increase.

- May your taxes increase.

- May your taxes increase.

May your taxes increase.

May your taxes increase.

May your taxes increase.

- May your taxes increase.

- I sat down, feeling desolated

Bowed my head and crossed my knees

Is fortune really predicated

Upon such tiny turns as these?

Then fate's a thing without a head

A puzzle never understood

And man proceeds where he is led

Unguaranteed of bad or good

Fate

Fate can be the trap in your path

The bitter cup of your tears

Your wine of wrath

Fate can be shade in the desert blaze

Sudden food in a famine found

The sound of praise

Incomprehensible and strange

Fate can play a trick with the twine

To weave the evil and good

In one design

And so my destiny

I look at you and cannot see

Is it good? Is it ill?

Am I blessed? Am I cursed?

Is it honey on my tongue or brine?

What fate

What fate is mine

Fate can play a trick with the twine

To weave the evil and good

In one design

And so my destiny

I look at you and cannot see

Is it good? Is it ill?

Am I blessed? Am I cursed?

Is it honey on my tongue or brine?

What fate, what fate is...

Good morning, O giant men of the desert.

Welcome to civilization.

You are the beggar called Hajj?

Even so am I. Far and wide the name of...

Permit me to correct myself.

My name is not Hajj.

- Silence.

- But my name... But my name is not...

You, what is this beggar's name?

- He said that Hajj, that he...

- Thank you.

But I tell you, you're making a mistake.

It must be a case of mistaken identity.

And I...

You're making a terrible mistake.

I don't think...

Now I know what you are.

You're slavers.

Slave traders of the desert. Allah! Allah!

- We have him, master. Hajj the Beggar.

- Good.

Such a profitless error. I have nothing.

Oh, glorious chieftain, let me be,

I pray you.

I'm not won'th selling at the slave market.

Look, my bad legs, injured in a fall,

unable to bear my weight.

I'm old, foolish, forgetful

and broken-brained.

I'm won'thless. Less than won'thless.

Talks a lot, doesn't he?

Are the irons hot?

Quite hot, master.

Take a look at my face.

Do you know me?

I know no one and nothing.

I have no memory.

- I am Jawan.

- Jawan. Oh, no.

Your memory freshens.

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