“I AM CALLED “OLIVE”
“I AM CALLED “OLIVE” (第1/3页)
Afterthemiddayprayers,IwaseversoswiftlyyetpleasurablydrawingthedarlingfacesofboyswhenIheardaknockatthedoor.Myhandjerkedinsurprise.Iputdownmybrush.Icarefullyplacedthework-boardthatwasonmykneesofftotheside.Rushinglikethewind,Isaidaprayerbeforeopeningthedoor.Iwon’twithholdanythingfromyou,becauseyou,whocanhearmefromwithinthisbook,aremuchnearertoAllahthanweinthisfilthyandmiserableworldofours.AkbarKhan,theEmperorofHindustanandtheworld’srichestshah,ispreparingwhatwillonedaybecomealegendarybook.Tocompletehisproject,hesentwordtothefourcornersofIslamdominvitingtheworld’sgreatestartiststojoinhim.Themenhe’dsenttoIstanbulvisitedmeyesterday,invitingmetoHindustan.Thistime,Iopenedthedoortofind,intheirplace,mychildhoodacquaintanceBlack,aboutwhomI’dforgottenentirely.Backthenhewasn’tabletokeepourcompany,hewasjealousofus.“Yes?”
Hesaidhe’dcometoconverse,topayafriendlyvisit,tohavealookatmyillustrations.Iwelcomedhimsohemightseeitall.Ilearnedhe’djusttodayvisitedHeadIlluminatorMasterOsmanandkissedhishand.Thegreatmaster,heexplained,hadgivenhimwisewordstoponder:“Apainter’squalitybecomesevidentinhisdiscussionsofblindnessandmemory,”he’dsaid.Soletitbeevident:
BlindnessandMemoryBeforetheartofilluminationtherewasblacknessandafterwardtherewillalsobeblackness.Throughourcolors,paints,artandlove,werememberthatAllahhadcommandedusto“See”!Toknowistorememberthatyou’veseen.Toseeistoknowwithoutremembering.Thus,paintingisrememberingtheblackness.Thegreatmasters,whosharedaloveofpaintingandperceivedthatcolorandsightarosefromdarkness,longedtoreturntoAllah’sblacknessbymeansofcolor.ArtistswithoutmemoryneitherrememberAllahnorhisblackness.Allgreatmasters,intheirwork,seekthatprofoundvoidwithincolorandoutsidetime.Letmeexplaintoyouwhatitmeanstorememberthisdarkness,whichwasrevealedinHeratbythegreatmastersofold.
ThreeStoriesonBlindnessandMemoryALIFInLami’iChelebi’sTurkishtranslationofthePersianpoetJami’sGiftsofIntimacy,whichaddressesthestoriesofthesaints,itiswrittenthatinthebookmaker’sworkshopofJihanShah,theruleroftheBlacksheepnation,therenownedmasterSheikhAliTabrizihadillustratedamagnificentversionofHüsrevandShirin.AccordingtowhatI’veheard,inthislegendarymanuscript,whichtookelevenyearstocomplete,themasterofmasterminiaturists,SheikhAli,displayedsuchtalentandskillandpaintedsuchwonderfulpicturesthatonlythegreatestoftheoldmasters,Bihzad,couldhavematchedhim.Evenbeforetheilluminatedmanuscriptwashalffinished,JihanShahknewthathewouldsoonpossessaspectacularbookwithoutequalinalltheworld.HethuslivedinfearandjealousyofyoungTallHasan,theruleroftheWhitesheepnation,anddeclaredhimhisarchenemy.Moreover,JihanShahquicklysensedthatthoughhisprestigewouldgrowimmenselyafterthebookwascompleted,anevenbetterversionofthemanuscriptcouldbemadeforTallHasan.Beingoneofthosetrulyjealousmenwhopoisonedhisowncontentmentwiththethought“Whatifotherscometoknowsuchbliss?”JihanShahsensedatoncethatifthevirtuosominiaturistmadeanothercopy,orevenabetterversion,itwouldbeforhisarchenemyTallHasan.Thus,inordertopreventanyonebesideshimselffromowningthismagnificentbook,JihanShahdecidedtohavethemasterminiaturistSheikhAlikilledafterhe’dcompletedthebook.Butagood-heartedCircassianbeautyinhisharemadvisedhimthatblindingthemasterminiaturistwouldsuffice.JihanShahforthwithadoptedthiscleveridea,whichhepassedontohiscircleofsycophants,untilitultimatelyreachedtheearsofSheikhAli.Evenso,SheikhAlididn’tleavethebookhalffinishedandfleeTabrizasother,mediocreillustratorsmight’vedone.Hedidn’tresorttogameslikeslowingdowntheprogressofthemanuscriptormakinginferiorillustrationssoitwouldn’tbe“perfect”andtherebyforestallinghisimminentblinding.Indeed,heworkedwithevenmoreardorandconviction.Inthehousewherehelivedalone,he’dbeginworkingafterthemorningprayersandcontinueillustratingthesamehorses,cypresses,lovers,dragonsandhandsomeprincesbycandlelightinthemiddleofthenightagainandagainuntilbittertearsstreamedfromhiseyes.Muchofthetime,he’dgazefordaysatanillustrationbyoneofthegreatoldmastersofHeratashemadeanexactcopyonanothersheet.Intheend,hecompletedthebookforJihanShahtheBlacksheep,andasthemasterminiaturisthadexpected,hewasatfirstpraisedandshoweredwithgoldpieces,beforebeingblindedwithasharpplumeneedleusedtoaffixturbanplumes.Beforehispainhadevensubsided,SheikhAlileftHeratandwenttojoinTallHasantheWhitesheep.“Yes,indeed,Iamblind,”heexplainedtoTallHasan,“yetIremembereachofthesplendorsofthemanuscriptI’veilluminatedforthelastelevenyears,downtoeachmarkofthepenandeachstrokeofthebrush,andmyhandcandrawitagainfrommemory.MyExcellency,Icouldillustratethegreatestmanuscriptofalltimeforyou.Sincemyeyeswillnolongerbedistractedbythefilthofthisworld,I’llbeabletodepictallthegloriesofAllahfrommemory,intheirpurestform.”TallHasanbelievedthegreatmasterminiaturist;andthemasterminiaturist,keepinghispromise,illustratedfrommemorythemostmagnificentofbooksfortheruleroftheWhitesheep.EveryoneknewthespiritualpowerprovidedbythenewbookwaswhatlaybehindTallHasan’ssubsequentdefeatoftheBlacksheepandthevictoriousKhan’sexecutionofJihanShahduringaraidnearBing?l.Thismagnificentbook,alongwiththeoneSheikhAliTabrizimadefor
thelateJihanShah,enteredOurSultan’streasuryinIstanbulwhentheever-victoriousTallHasanwasdefeatedattheBattleofOtlukbelibySultanMehmetKhantheConqueror,mayherestinpeace.Thosewhocantrulysee,know.
BASincetheDenizenofParadise,SultanSüleymanKhantheLawgiver,favoredcalligraphersoverillustrators,unfortunateminiaturistsofthedaywouldrecountthepresentstoryasanexampleofhowillustratingsurpassescalligraphy.However,asanyonewhopayscloseattentionwillrealize,thistaleisactuallyaboutblindnessandmemory.AfterthedeathofTamerlane,RuleroftheWorld,hissonsandgrandchildrensettoattackingandmercilesslybattlingoneanother.Intheeventthatoneofthemsucceededinconqueringanother’scity,hisfirstactionwastominthisowncoinsandhaveasermonreadatthemosque.Hissecondactasvictorwastopullapartthebooksthathadcomeintohispossession;anewdedicationwouldbewritten,boastingoftheconquerorasthenew“ruleroftheworld,”anewcolophonadded,anditwouldallbeboundtogetheragainsothatthosewholaideyesontheconqueror’sbookwouldbelievethathetrulywasaworldruler.WhenAbdüllatif,thesonofTamerlane’sgrandsonUlu?Bey,capturedHerat,hemobilizedhisminiaturists,calligraphersandbinderswithsuchhaste,andsopressuredthemtomakeabookinhonorofhisfather,aconnoisseurofbookarts,thatasvolumeswereinthemidstofbeingunboundandthescriptedpagesdestroyedandburned,thecorrespondingpicturesbecamemixedup.SinceitdidnotbefitthehonorofUlu?Beyforhissontoarrangeandbindalbumswithoutacareforwhichpicturebelongedtowhichstory,heassembledalltheminiaturistsinHeratandrequestedthattheyrecountthestoriessoastoputtheillustrationsinproperorder.Fromeachminiaturist’smouth,however,cameadifferentaccount,andsothecorrectorderoftheplateswasconfusedallthemore.Thereupon,theoldestsurvivingheadminiaturistwassoughtout.Hewasamanwho’dextinguishedthelightofhiseyesinpainstakinglaboronthebooksofalltheshahsandprinceswho’druledoverHeratforthelastfifty-fouryears.Agreatcommotionensuedwhenthemenrealizedthattheoldmasternowpeeringatthepictureswasindeedblind.Somelaughed.Theelderlymasterrequestedthatanintelligentboy,whohadnotyetreachedtheageofsevenandwhocouldn’treadorwrite,bebroughtforward.Suchachildwasfoundandtakentohim.Theoldminiaturistplacedanumberofillustrationsbeforehim.“Describewhatyousee,”heinstructed.Astheboydescribedthepictures,theoldminiaturist,raisinghisblindeyestothesky,listenedcarefullyandresponded:“AlexandercradlingthedyingDariusfromFirdusi’sBookofKings…theaccountoftheteacherwhofallsinlovewithhishandsomestudentfromSadi’sRosegarden…thecontestofdoctorsfromNizami’sTreasuryofSecrets…”Theotherminiaturists,vexedbytheirelderlyandblindcolleague,said,“Wecould’vetoldyouthataswell.Thesearethebest-knownscenesfromthemostfamousstories.”Inturn,theagedandblindminiaturistplacedthemostdifficultillustrationsbeforethechildandagainlistenedintently.“HürmüzpoisoningthecalligraphersonebyonefromFirdusi’sBookofKings,”hesaid,againfacingthesky.“Acheaprenditionoftheterribleaccountofthecuckoldwhocatcheshiswifeandherloverinapeartree,fromRumi’sMasnawi,”hesaid.Inthisfashion,relyingontheboy’sdescriptions,heidentifiedallofthepictures,noneofwhichhecouldsee,andtherebysucceededinhavingthebooksproperlyboundtogetheragain.WhenUlu?BeyenteredHeratwithhisarmy,heaskedtheoldminiaturistbywhatsecrethe,ablindman,couldidentifythosestoriesthatothermasterillustratorscouldn’tdetermineevenbylookingatthem.“Itisn’t,asonemightassume,thatmymemorycompensatesformy
blindness,”repliedtheoldillustrator.“Ihaveneverforgottenthatstoriesarerecollectednotonlythroughimages,butthroughwordsaswell.”Ulu?Beyrespondedthathisownminiaturistsknewthosewordsandstories,butstillcouldn’torderthepictures.“Because,”saidtheoldminiaturist,“theythinkquitewellwhenitcomestopainting,whichistheirskillortheirart,buttheydon’tcomprehendthattheoldmastersmadethesepicturesoutofthememoriesofAllahHimself.”Ulu?Beyaskedhowachildcouldknowsuchthings.“Thechilddoesn’tknow,”saidtheoldminiaturist.“ButI,anelderlyandblindminiaturist,knowthatAllahcreatedthisworldlyrealmthewayanintelligentseven-year-oldboywouldwanttoseeit;what’smore,Allahcreatedthisearthlyrealmsothat,aboveall,itmightbeseen.Afterward,Heprovideduswithwordssowemightshareanddiscusswithoneanotherwhatwe’veseen.Wemistakenlyassumedthatthesestoriesaroseoutofwordsandthatillustrationswerepaintedinserviceofthesestories.Quitetothecontrary,paintingistheactofseekingoutAllah’smemoriesandseeingtheworldasHeseestheworld.”
DJIMTwohundredfiftyyearsago,Arabminiaturistswereinthecustomofstaringatthewesternhorizonatdaybreaktoalleviatetheunderstandableandeternalanxietiesaboutgoingblindsharedbyallminiaturists;likewise,acenturylaterinShiraz,manyillustratorswouldeatwalnutsmashedwithrosepetalsonanemptystomachinthemornings.Again,inthesameera,theelderminiaturistsofIsfahanwhobelievedsunlightwasresponsiblefortheblindnesstowhichtheysuccumbedonebyone,asiftotheplague,wouldworkinahalf-darkcorneroftheroom,andmostoftenbycandlelight,topreventdirectsunlightfromstrikingtheirworktables.Atday’send,intheworkshopsoftheUzbekartistsofBukhara,masterminiaturistswouldwashtheireyeswithwaterblessedbysheikhs.Butofalloftheseprecautions,thepurestapproachtoblindnesswasdiscoveredinHeratbytheminiaturistSeyyitMirek,mentortothegreatmasterBihzad.AccordingtomasterminiaturistMirek,blindnesswasn’tascourge,butratherthecrowningrewardbestowedbyAllahupontheilluminatorwhohaddevotedanentirelifetoHisglories;forillustratingwastheminiaturist’ssearchforAllah’svisionoftheearthlyrealm,andthisuniqueperspectivecouldonlybeattainedthroughrecollectionafterblindnessdescended,onlyafteralifetimeofhardworkandonlyaftertheminiaturist’seyestiredandhehadexpendedhimself.Thus,Allah’svisionofHisworldonlybecomesmanifestthroughthememoryofblindminiaturists.Whenthisimagecomestotheagingminiaturist,thatis,whenheseestheworldasAllahseesitthroughthedarknessofmemoryandblindness,theillustratorwillhavespenthislifetimetraininghishandsoitmighttransferthissplendidrevelationtothepage.AccordingtothehistorianMirzaMuhammetHaydarDuglat,whowroteextensivelyaboutthelegendsofHeratminiaturists,themasterSeyyitMirek,inhisexplicationoftheaforementionednotionofpainting,usedtheexampleoftheillustratorwhowantedtodrawahorse.Hereasonedthateventhemostuntalentedpainter—onewhoseheadisemptylikethoseoftoday’sVianpainters—whodrawsthepictureofahorsewhilelookingatahorsewillstillmaketheimagefrommemory;because,yousee,itisimpossible,atoneandthesametime,tolookatthehorseandatthepageuponwhichthehorse’simageappears.First,theillustratorlooksatthehorse,thenhequicklytransferswhateverrestsinhismindtothepage.Intheinterim,evenifonlyawinkintime,whattheartistrepresentsonthepageisnotthehorsehesees,butthememoryofthehorsehehasjustseen.Proofthatforeventhemostmiserableillustrator,apictureispossibleonlythroughmemory.Thelogicalextensionofthisconcept,whichregardstheactiveworklifeofaminiaturistasbutpreparationforboth
theresultingblissofblindnessandblindmemory,isthatthemastersofHeratregardedtheillustrationstheymadeforbibliophileshahsandprincesastrainingforthehand—asanexercise.Theyacceptedthework,theendlessdrawingandstaringatpagesbycandlelightfordayswithoutbreak,asthepleasurablelaborthatdeliveredtheminiaturisttoblindness.Throughouthiswholelife,themasterminiaturistMirekconstantlysoughtoutthemostappropriatemomentforthismostgloriousofapproachingeventualities,eitherbypurposelyhurryingblindnessthroughthepainstakingdepictionoftreesandalltheirleavesonfingernails,grainsofriceandevenonstrandsofhair,orbycautiouslydelayingtheimminentdarknessbytheeffortlessdrawingofpleasant,sun-filledgardens.Whenhewasseventy,inordertorewardthisgreatmaster,SultanHüseyinBaykaraallowedhimtoenterthetreasurycontainingthousandsofmanuscriptplatesthattheSultanhadcollectedandsecuredunderlockandkey.There,inthetreasurythatalsocontainedweapons,goldandboltuponboltofsilkandvelvetcloth,bythecandlelightofgoldencandelabra,MasterMirekstaredatthemagnificentleavesofthosebooks,eachalegendinitsownright,madebytheoldmastersofHerat.Andafterthreedaysandnightsofcontinuousscrutiny,thegreatmasterwentblind.Heacceptedhisconditionwithmaturityandresignation,thewayonemightgreettheAngelsofAllah,andheneverspokeorpaintedagain.MirzaMuhammetHaydarDuglat,theauthoroftheHistoryofRashid,ascribedthisturnofeventsasfollows:“AminiaturistunitedwiththevisionandlandscapeofAllah’simmortaltimecanneverreturntothemanuscriptpagesmeantforordinarymortals”;andheadds,“Wherevertheblindminiaturist’smemoriesreachAllahtherereignsanabsolutesilence,ablesseddarknessandtheinfinityofablankpage.”
CertainlyitwaslessoutofdesiretohearmyanswertoMasterOsman’squestiononblindnessandmemorythantoputhimselfateasethatBlackaskedmethequestionwhileheporedovermypossessions,myroomandmypictures.Yetagain,IwaspleasedtoseethatthestoriesIrecountedaffectedhim.“BlindnessisarealmofblissfromwhichtheDevilandguiltarebarred,”Isaidtohim.
“InTabriz,”saidBlack,“underMasterMirek’sinfluence,someoftheminiaturistsoftheoldstylestilllookuponblindnessasthegreatestvirtueofAllah’sgrace,andthey’reembarrassedaboutgrowingoldbutnotblind.Eventoday,fearingthatotherswillconsiderthisproofofalackoftalentandskill,theypretendtobeblind.AsaresultofthismoralconvictionwhichbearstheinfluenceofJemalettinofKazvin,someofthemsitforweeksinthedarknessamidmirrors,inthedimlightofanoillamp,withouteatingordrinkingandstareatillustratedpagespaintedbytheoldmastersofHeratinordertolearnhowtoperceivetheworldlikeablindmandespitenottrulybeingblind.”
Somebodyknocked.Iopenedthedoortofindahandsomeapprenticefromtheworkshopwhoselovelyalmondeyeswereopenedwide.Hesaidthatthebodyofourbrother,thegilderElegantEffendi,hadbeendiscoveredinanabandonedwellandthathisfuneralprocessionwouldcommenceattheMihrimahMosqueduringtheafternoonprayer.Hethenranofftodeliverthenewstoothers.Allah,mayyouprotectusall.
IAMESTHERTellmethen,doeslovemakeoneafoolordoonlyfoolsfallinlove?I’vebeenaclothespeddlerand
matchmakerforyears,andIdon’thavetheslightestclue.Howit’dthrillmetobecomeacquaintedwithmen—orcouples—whogrewmoreintelligentandbecamemorecunninganddeviousastheyfelldeeperinlove.Idoknowthismuchthough:Ifamanresortstowiles,guileandpettydeceptions,itmeanshe’snowherenearbeinginlove.AsforBlackEffendi,it’sobviousthathe’salreadylosthiscomposure—whenheeventalksaboutShekurehelosesallself-control.
Atthebazaar,Ifedhimbyroteallthewell-rehearsedrefrainsthatItelleveryone:Shekureisalwaysthinkingofhim,sheaskedmeabouthisresponsetoherletter,I’dneverseenherlikethisandsoon.HegavemesuchalookthatIpitiedhim.HetoldmetotakethelettertoShekurestraightaway.Everyidiotassumesthere’sapressingcircumstanceabouthislovethatnecessitatesparticularhaste,andtherebylaysbaretheintensityofhislove,unwittinglyputtingaweaponintothehandsofhisbeloved.Ifhisloverissmart,she’llpostpheanswer.Themoral:Hastedelaysthefruitsoflove.
HadlovesickBlackknownthatIfirsttookadetourwhilecarryingtheletterhe’dchargedmetodeliver“posthaste,”he’dthankme.Inthemarketsquare,Inearlyfrozetodeathwaitingforhim.Afterheleft,IthoughtI’dvisitoneofmy“daughters”towarmup.IcallthemaidenswhoselettersI’vedelivered,theonesI’vemarriedoffthroughthesweatofmybrow,my“daughters.”Thisuglymaidenofminewassothankfulandbeholdentomethatatmyeveryvisit,beyondwaitingonmehandandfoot,flittingaboutlikeamoth,she’dpressafewsilvercoinsintomypalm.Nowshewaspregnantandingoodhumor.Sheputlindenteaontheboil.Isavoredeachsip.Whensheleftmealone,IcountedthecoinsBlackEffendihadgivenme.Twentysilverpieces.
Isetoutonmywayagain.Ipassedthroughsidestreetsandthroughominousalleywaysthatwerefrozen,muddyandnearlyimpassable.AsIwasknockingonthedoor,mirthtookholdofmeandIbegantoshout.
“Theclothierishere!Clothierrr!”Isaid.“Comeandseethebestofmyruffledmuslinfitforasultan.ComegetmystunningshawlsfromKashmir,myBursavelvetsashcloth,mysuperbsilk-edgedEgyptianshirtcloth,myembroideredmuslintablecloths,mymattressandbedsheets,andmycolorfulhandkerchiefs.Clothierrr!”
Thedooropened.Ientered.Asalways,thehousesmelledofbedding,sleep,fryingoilandhumidity,thatterriblesmellpeculiartoagingbachelors.
“Oldhag,”hesaid.“Whyareyoushouting?”
Isilentlyremovedtheletterandhandedittohim.Inthehalf-litroom,hestealthilyandquietlyapproachedmeandsnatcheditfrommyhand.Hepassedintothenextroomwhereanoillampalwaysburned.Iwaitedatthethreshold.
“Isn’tyourdearfatherhome?”
Hedidn’tanswer.He’dlosthimselfintheletter.Ilefthimalonesohecouldread.Hestoodbehindthelamp,andIcouldn’tseehisface.Afterfinishingtheletter,hereaditanew.
“Yes,”Isaid,“andwhathashewritten?”
Hasanread:
MyDearestShekure,asItoohaveforyearsnowsustainedmyselfthroughmydreamsofonesingleperson,Irespectfullyunderstandyourwaitingforyourhusbandwithoutconsideringanother.Whatelsecouldoneexpectfromawomanofyourstaturebesideshonestyandvirtue?[Hasancackled!]Mycomingtovisityourfatherforthesakeofpainting,however,doesnotamounttoharassingyou.Thiswouldneverevencrossmymind.Imakenoclaimathavingreceivedasignfromyouoranyotherencouragement.Whenyourfaceappearedtomeatthewindowlikedivinelight,IconsidereditnothingbutanactofGod’sgrace.ThepleasureofseeingyourfaceisallIneed.[“HetookthatfromNizami,”Hasaninterrupted,annoyed.]Butyouaskmetokeepmydistance;tellmethen,areyouanangelthatapproachingyoushouldbesoterrifying?ListentowhatIhavetosay,listen:Iusedtotrytosleepwatchingthemoonlightfallontothenakedmountainsfromremoteandgodforsakencaravansarieswherenobodybutadesperatehankeeperandafewthugsfleeingthegallowslodged,andthere,inthemiddleofthenight,listeningtothehowlingofwolvesevenlonelierandmoreunfortunatethanmyself,Iusedtothinkthatonedayyouwouldsuddenlyappeartome,justasyoudidatthewindow.Readclosely:NowthatI’vereturnedtoyourfatherforthesakeofthebook,you’vesentbackthepictureImadeinmychildhood.IknowthisisnotasignofyourdeathbutasignthatI’vefoundyouagain.Isawoneofyourchildren,Orhan.Thatpoorfatherlessboy.OnedayIwillbecomehisfather!
“Godprotecthim,he’swrittenwell,”Isaid,“thisonehasbecomequitethepoet.”
“”Areyouanangelthatapproachingyoushouldbesoterrifying?“”herepeated.“HestolethatlinefromIbnZerhani.Icoulddobetter.”Hetookhisownletteroutofhispocket.“TakethisanddeliverittoShekure.”
Forthefirsttime,acceptingmoneyalongwiththelettersdisturbedme.Ifeltsomethinglikedisgusttowardthismanandhismadobsession,hisunrequitedlove.Hasan,asiftoconfirmmyhunch,forthefirsttimeinalongwhilesetasidehisgoodetiquetteandsaidquiterudely:
“Tellherthatifwesodesire,we’llforceherbackhereunderpressureofthejudge.”
“Youreallywantmetosaythat?”
Silence.“Nay,”hesaid.Thelightfromtheoillampilluminatedhisface,allowingmetoseehimlowerhisheadlikeaguiltychild.It’sbecauseIknowthissideofHasan’scharacteraswellthatIhavesomerespectforhisfeelingsanddeliverhisletters.It’snotonlyforthemoney,asyoumightthink.
Iwasleavingthehouse,andhestoppedmeatthedoor.
“DoyouletShekureknowhowmuchIloveher?”heaskedmeexcitedlyandfoolishly.
“Don’tyoutellhersoinyourletters?”
“TellmehowImightconvinceherandherfather?HowmightIpersuadethem?”
“Bybeingagoodperson,”Isaidandwalkedtothedoor.
“Atthisage,it’stoolate…”hesaidwithsincereanguish.
“You’vebeguntoearnalotofmoney,CustomsOfficerHasan.Thismakesoneagoodperson…”Isaidandfled.
Thehousewassodarkandmelancholythattheairoutsideseemedwarmer.Thesunlighthitmyface.IwishedforShekure’shappiness.ButIalsofeltsomethingforthatpoormaninthatdamp,chillyanddarkhouse.Onawhim,IturnedintotheSpiceMarketinLalelithinkingthesmellsofcinnamon,saffronandpepperwouldrestoremyspirits.Iwasmistaken.
AtShekure’shouse,aftershetookuptheletters,sheimmediatelyaskedafterBlack.Itoldherthatthefireoflovehadmercilesslyengulfedhisentirebeing.Thisnewspleasedher.
“EvenlonelyspinstersbusywiththeirknittingarediscussingwhyElegantEffendimight’vebeenkilled,”Isaidlater,changingthesubject.
“Hayriye,makesomehalvaasapresentofcondolenceandtakeitovertoKalbiye,poorElegantEffendi’swidow,”saidShekure.
“AlltheErzurumisandquiteacrowdofotherswillbeattendinghisfuneralservice,”Isaid.“Hisrelativesswearthey’llavengehisspiltblood.”
ShekurehadalreadybeguntoreadBlack’sletter.Ilookedintoherfaceintentlyandangrily.Thiswomanwasprobablysuchafoxthatshecouldcontrolhowherpassionswerereflectedinherface.AsshereadIsensedthatmysilencepleasedher,thatsheregardeditasmyapprovalofthespecialimportshegavetoBlack’sletter.Shekurefinishedtheletterandsmiledatme;tomeetwithhersatisfaction,Ifeltforcedtoask,“Whathashewritten?”
“Justasinhischildhood…He’sinlovewithme.”
“Whatareyourthoughts?”
“I’mamarriedwoman.I’mwaitingformyhusband.”
Contrarytoyourexpectations,thefactthatshe’dlietomeafteraskingmetogetinvolvedinheraffairsdidn’tangerme.Actually,thiscommentrelievedme.IfmoreoftheyoungmaidensandwomenI’vecarriedlettersforandadvisedinthewaysoftheworldattendedtodetailsthewayShekuredid,theywould’velessenedtheworkforusbothbyhalf.Moreimportantly,theywould’veendedupinbettermarriages.
“Whatdoestheotheronewrite?”Iaskedanyway.
“Idon’tintendtoreadHasan’sletterrightnow,”sheanswered.“DoesHasanknowthatBlack’sreturnedtoIstanbul?”
“Hedoesn’tevenknowheexists.”
“DoyouspeakwithHasan?”sheasked,openingwideherbeautifulblackeyes.
“Asyou’verequested.”
“Yes?”
“He’sinagony.He’sdeeplyinlovewithyou.Evenifyourheartbelongstoanother,it’llbedifficultevertobefreeofhimnow.Byacceptinghislettersyou’vegreatlyencouragedhim.Bewaryofhim,however.Fornotonlydoeshewanttomakeyoureturnthere,butbyestablishingthathisolderbrotherhasdied,he
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