Rituals are the password and key to the wonderful novel (The Devil of Al-Khidr) by the writer Muhammad Ibrahim Taha, those rituals that start from the first scene and never go away through the pages of the novel, which relies on a rural popular memory.

But before entering the novelistic text, we must question the title, as Al-Khidr in the popular conscience is based on his presence as a figure not mentioned by name in the Quran. He is described in Surah Al-Kahf, as a righteous servant of God possessing great wisdom or mystic knowledge and to associate him with the devil becomes a risky encounter, and perhaps it stimulates the imagination, before raising doubt, about the implicit and apparent meanings of the text. But with another reading, (the devil) in the title could be a reference to deviation, revolution, and absurdity, or apostasy as well.

It is nice that our childhood is linked to the places that are mentioned throughout the novel, which adds additional pleasure to its interrogation in the texts of events. The novel begins when Al-Khidr and his companion Al-Men’akesh - we will notice this duality in the roots of the story - prepare for the dawn prayer at Al-Bahr Mosque, where Al-Khidr asks Al-Men’akesh - who does not walk without an audio recorder, and is infatuated with Najat Al-Saghira’s voice (an iconic Egyptian lady singer) and its angelic nature - that he is inclined towards the Quran suras whose verses revolve around stories, so he wants him to recite the verses that are connected by a narrative context. 

After reading and revelation, Al-Men’akesh turns to chanting: “My God, how great You are in Your power and Your loftiness.. My God, how merciful You are in Your anger and Your pleasure.” 

Al-Khidr responds to him and harmonizes his voice with him. But Al-Men’akesh opens the sound machine to send the voice from the mosque’s microphone to the people, and the worshipers flock from every corner, and the mute sways with tearful eyes, as if the call and the melody moved even what the hearing could not move. However, this did not please those working in official religion, so an order is issued to prevent both Al-Khidr and Al-Men’akesh from Spending the night at the mosque.

This is the mother story; the confrontation between the popular and the official, from which stories are born that are scattered on the roads and pages, and thus the reader will not find a series of events, but rather a proportional event, its hero is the young "devil of Al-Khidr" Abu Talib, and Yusuf Al-Men’akesh, his companion and friend who is twenty years older than him, as if with their stories they are ringing a theatrical bell, the scenes follow one another and a curtain is raised and another is lowered, and you find the confrontation again and again, as if we are in a Sufi ritual, in which we swing our heads, a mirror for the swing of our thoughts, hidden and declared.

Al-Khidr reproaches him:

- You play music in the house of our God?!

- For your information, music was only created to be heard in the houses of God!

The ritual of loving to play the Quran and music is close to being an Egyptian specialty, a recipe that unites all those who work in creativity, in general, and literature in particular, and thus you will see us, with the author, weaving our days with the music of this worldly life and the hereafter, and creating our daily and eternal rituals, and repeating without getting bored, the states of listening and enjoyment to elevate them and them and their existence at the same time.

If we see the key to the novel in its rituals, then perhaps we should also point out that its linguistic rituals, which were keen to compose verses of the religious text, examples of popular heritage, the lyrics of selected songs, and sarcastic humorous jokes, as if that linguistic ritual is an integral part of writing the novel for Muhammad Ibrahim Taha.

Perhaps the writer's ability to make all of this a homogeneous mixture comes from his keenness to be the voice of his creative tools, as he does not imitate a style, but rather creates his own style, into which colloquialism creeps in a charming way, and you can hardly feel except its popular eloquence.

Thus, the devil of Al-Khidr brought me back to my hometown, Benha, and perhaps he delved into my memory to search for the faded places in the spaces of imagination, the forgotten characters in the paths of life, as if he was drawing with magic water, and his lines appearing when events flare up. I thought I knew the characters, as if I had met them once or more, and perhaps I had listened to their stories, or the story itself is our rituals that we distribute over the years, the writer reformulated it, and gave it from his spirit as he bestowed contemporary projections on it, as if the quiet rituals draw with their rhythm a mosaic of a revolution, which will be launched when the painting is complete, a revolution that began with a harmony between the religious and the secular, and perhaps reaches a match between dream and reality.

As for the most present ritual, it is the use of music, not only by summoning melodies, songs, sounds and words, but by making music, that language, a definition of everything, of people, of their feelings, of their conditions, and of their positions as well. 

The Arabic maqam is a system of familiar musical scales and phrases, familiar transitions, traditional ornaments, and agreed-upon aesthetics that together form a rich artistic tradition and heritage. In this novel, the author writes rendering the Arabic maqams: "What is the difference between the comfort of the souls and the Hijaz?" 

He said: "The first is the introduction to the desert, and the second is its heart. I returned to the comfort of the souls, so he accompanied me, muttering quietly as if he was whispering to himself, and entered into a calm, transparent, and sedate monologue with features that came and went without his monologue rising to the level of explicit disclosure or fading to the level of silence. We remained in the comfort of the souls until I heard: Enter it in peace and security. I looked at his features, and saw them still, so my index finger moved automatically to the Saba scale.

In my youth, I went back and forth between clear weeping and painful lamentation until the earth shone with the light of its Lord, and I saw a yellow chamomile flower growing in its place. I took off the feather and the chestnut, and before I put the “qanun” (an oriental musical instrument) aside, I saw engraved on its side from the inside: Comfort of the souls, the tongue of the poor, May God forgive him, he is of good character.

When Al-Men’akesh told me his name years ago, I did not rely on him, and his story remained alone without any support because everyone I asked about him after my first meeting with him denied that the descriptions I said applied to anyone in the area: my uncle Al-Husseini Abu Ras, a graduate of the Faculty of Da’wah at Al-Azhar, Sheikh Fath Al-Bab “who knows the ultimate bricks on the earth”, and Sheikh Shams Al-Din Ahmed, head of the “Ahl Allah” group, Jumaa Abu Al-Joud Al-Tarbi,and  Kamel the barber whose shop is crowded with customers, and Ibrahim Al-Manakhli who is in the market every day. I asked with anguish and no answer about an old man I was with, even “Khanoufa” who stood between me and  him and the car at the crossing, he said: I was alone, and I felt sad.

It seems we are before two novelistic facts; Al-Men’akesh is the author himself, or he was just an imaginary character brought to question the original story character; Al-Khidr.

“I had walked the road from the city to the town where I first met him dozens of times, and the slide to the graves was in vain, I took the paths and accompanied the streams until the bend stopped me at the meeting of two gulfs: Are you looking for someone, brother?

- yeah

- a native or a stranger?

- a stranger

- Old or young?

- He is old and his smile is calm and reassuring and no one gave me trouble.

- You asked me?

I said: "I asked everyone except you, so he sat up straight and he was lying under a palm tree and turned off the radio, and said: Sit down, so I sat down. He asked me to calmly repeat the man's features, so I repeated them while he stared at the horizon with narrowed eyes”.