Everyone sings to their own tune... until further notice!

It seems the world has decided to enter the Guinness Book of World Records for producing surprises, but of the kind that no one welcomes! Wars are flaring up, markets are fluctuating, dreams are evaporating, and people are waiting for a single piece of news that will restore some sense of reassurance to them.

Amid this global scene, the lady of predictions, Layla Abdul Latif, has appeared to tell us what might happen tomorrow, the day after, or at a time known only to God!

Strangely, some people no longer ask about the accuracy of her predictions as much as they ask: Why don’t her predictions that we love come true?!

Each of us now has his own Layla, and each sings to his own Layla, to the point that some of us are ready to believe the most bizarre predictions, provided they are in our favor!

This man no longer wants to know who will win and who will lose; he is tired of news bulletins, battle maps, and the names of cities whose borders change on television screens. All he wishes is for Layla Abdul Latif to appear one evening and say:

“I predict that humanity will wake up one morning having decided that all countries will abolish wars, and that world leaders will gather around a single table, not to divide lands, but to divide a loaf of bread!”

And at that moment, the man will stand up out of respect for the screen, perhaps even applauding her, even if there is no background music!

This is a completely different man; he is not concerned with political analyses or balances of power. He has decided to place his trust in luck and leave the future to the experts.

Every evening, he places his phone next to his coffee cup, awaiting a call from the bank.

He returns to his seat, seeks God’s forgiveness for his bad suspicions, then turns on the television, hoping that Layla Abdul Latif will announce a new prediction.

He does not ask for a villa in Switzerland or a yacht in the Mediterranean; he merely wishes to hear a single sentence: “Congratulations, you have won the grand prize.” And I believe that if that were to happen, he would donate half the prize to the program’s announcer who revealed the news!

And this is me; I confess that I do not ask Layla Abdul Latif to predict wealth, a position, or fleeting fame for me. I have a wish more bizarre than all of the above.

“I predict that the Arab homeland will witness an unprecedented artistic and cultural renaissance, that the audience will regain its aesthetic taste, that music will return to its proper mode, and that the listener will be able to distinguish between authentic melody and noise, between true musical delight and the clamor that mistakes itself for art.”

I want us to turn on the radio at night, hear Abdel Wahab’s “Al-Jandal,” then hear Fairuz singing “Give me the flute and sing,” and feel that the world is still well, that music has not lost its title, and that the Arab ear has not yet retired! Why wouldn’t Layla predict that the audience will return to the theater in search of words, to the exhibition in search of paintings, and to the library in search of books, and that the artist will find someone who listens to him with his mind before his ear?

Mrs. Layla! This is the prediction I am waiting for from you!

People in our time have become seekers of a glimmer of hope, even if it comes in the form of a sentence on a television program. The exhausted wants news that reassures him, the bankrupt awaits the ring of his phone, and the artist awaits an audience that understands him.

Each sings to his own Layla, to the point that some of us have started writing our wishes in the predictions section!

As for me, I suggest that Mrs. Layla dedicate an entire episode titled: “Predictions in which humanity loses nothing.”

In it, she predicts that people will reconcile, that wars will end, that culture will triumph over vulgarity, that art will become art again, books will become books again, and theater will become theater again, and that the citizen will win his grand prize without discovering at the end of the call that it was merely a bank advertisement!

In conclusion, I do not wish to spoil anyone’s dreams, nor to deprive Layla of her audience; yet I implore her to remember that there are people awaiting a single prediction, one that, if fulfilled, would render all other predictions of the year obsolete.

So, Ms. Layla! If you have a window through which you can glimpse the future, please open it slightly toward hope.

As for us, we will continue to wait for the phone to ring, keep our dreams tucked away in a small drawer, and sing through our nights, each according to his or her share of this world.