“I AM CALLED “OLIVE”
Afterthemiddayprayers,IwaseversoswiftlyyetpleasurablydrawingthedarlingfacesofboyswhenIheardaknockatthedoor.Myhandjerkedinsurprise.Iputdownmybrush.Icarefullyplacedthework-boardthatwasonmykneesofftotheside.Rushinglikethewind,Isaidaprayerbeforeopeningthedoor.Iwon’twithholdanythingfromyou,becauseyou,whohearmefromwithinthisbook,aremuearertoAllahthahisfilthyandmiserableworldofours.AkbarKhan,theEmperorofHindustanandtheworld’srichestshah,ispreparingwhatwillonedaybeealegendarybook.Topletehisproject,hesentwordtothefourersofIslamdominvitingtheworld’sgreatestartiststojoinhim.Themenhe’dsenttoIstanbulvisitedmeyesterday,invitioHindustan.Thistime,Iopehedoortofind,intheirplace,mychildhoodacquaintanceBlack,aboutwhomI’dfotteirely.Backthenhewasn’tabletokeepourpany,hewasjealousofus.“Yes?”
Hesaidhe’detoverse,topayafriendlyvisit,tohavealookatmyillustrations.Iweledhimsohemightseeitall.Ilearnedhe’djusttodayvisitedHeadIlluminatorMasterOsmanandkissedhishand.Thegreatmaster,heexplained,hadgivenhimwisewordstoponder:“Apainter’squalitybeesevidentinhisdiscussionsofblindnessandmemory,”he’dsaid.Soletitbeevident:
BlindnessandMemoryBeforetheartofilluminationtherewasblaessandafterwardtherewillalsobeblaess.Throughourcolors,paints,artandlove,werememberthatAllahhadao“See”!Toknowistorememberthatyou’veseen.Toseeistoknowwithoutremembering.Thus,paintingisrememberingtheblaess.Thegreatmasters,whosharedaloveofpaintingandperceivedthatcolorandsightarosefromdarkness,looreturntoAllah’sblaessbymeansofcolor.ArtistswithoutmemoryherrememberAllahnorhisblaess.Allgreatmasters,intheirwork,seekthatprofoundvoidwithincolorandoutsidetime.Letmeexplaintoyouwhatitmeanstorememberthisdarkness,whichwasrevealedibythegreatmastersofold.
ThreeStoriesonBlindnessandMemoryALIFInLami’iChelebi’sTurkishtranslationofthePersiaJami’sGiftsofIntimacy,whichaddressesthestoriesofthesaints,itiswrittenthatinthebookmaker’sworkshopofJihanShah,theruleroftheBlacksheepnation,therenownedmasterSheikhAliTabrizihadillustratedamagnifitversionofHüsrevandShirin.AcctowhatI’veheard,inthislegendarymanuscript,whichtookeleveoplete,themasterofmasterminiaturists,SheikhAli,displayedsuchtalentandskillandpaintedsuderfulpicturesthatonlythegreatestoftheoldmasters,Bihzad,couldhavematchedhim.Evenbeforetheilluminatedmanuscriptwashalffinished,JihanShahkhathewouldsoonpossessaspectacularbookwithoutequalinalltheworld.HethuslivedinfearandjealousyofyoungTallHasan,theruleroftheWhitesheepnation,anddeclaredhimhisaremy.Moreover,JihanShahquicklysehatthoughhisprestigewouldgrowimmenselyafterthebookwaspleted,aterversionofthemanuscriptcouldbemadeforTallHasan.Beihosetrulyjealousmenwhopoisonedhisowntewiththethought“Whatifothersetoknowsuchbliss?”JihanShahseoifthevirtuosominiaturistmadeanothercopy,oreveerversion,itwouldbeforhisaremyTallHasan.Thus,iopreventanyonebesideshimselffromowningthismagnifitbook,JihanShahdecidedtohavethemasterminiaturistSheikhAlikilledafterhe’dpletedthebook.Butagood-heartedCircassiayinhisharemadvisedhimthatblindierminiaturistwouldsuffice.JihanShahforthtedthiscleveridea,whichhepassedontohiscircleofsycophants,untilitultimatelyreachedtheearsofSheikhAli.Evenso,SheikhAlididhebookhalffinishedaabrizasother,mediocreillustratht’vedone.Hedidtogameslikeslowingdowntheprogressofthemanuscriptormakinginferiorillustrationssoitwouldn’tbe“perfedtherebyforestallinghisimmiblinding.Indeed,heworkedwithevenmoreardorandvi.Inthehousewherehelivedalone,he’dbeginwafterthemprayersandtinueillustratingthesamehorses,cypresses,lovers,dragonsandhandsomeprincesbydlelightinthemiddleofthenightagainandagainuntilbittertearsstreamedfromhiseyes.Muchofthetime,he’dgazefordaysatanillustrationbyohegreatoldmastersofHeratashemadeacopyonanothersheet.Intheend,hepletedthebookforJihanShahtheBlacksheep,andasthemasterminiaturisthadexpected,hewasatfirstpraisedandshoweredwithgoldpieces,beforebeingblihasharpplumeneedleusedtoaffixturbanplumes.Beforehispainhadevensubsided,SheikhAlileftHerataojoinTallHasaesheep.“Yes,indeed,Iamblind,”heexplaiallHasaIremembereachofthesplendorsofthemanuscriptI’veilluminatedforthelastelevenyears,downtoeachmarkofthepenandeachstrokeofthebrush,andmyhanddrawitagainfrommemory.MyExcellency,Icouldillustratethegreatestmanuscriptofalltimeforyou.Sincemyeyeswillnolongerbedistractedbythefilthofthisworld,I’llbeabletodepictallthegloriesofAllahfrommemory,intheirpurestform.”TallHasanbelievedthegreatmasterminiaturist;aerminiaturist,keepinghispromise,illustratedfrommemorythemostmagnifitofbooksfortheruleroftheWhitesheep.EveryohespiritualpowerprovidedbythenewbookwaswhatlaybehindTallHasan’ssubsequeoftheBlacksheepaoriousKhan’sexecutionofJihanShahduringaraidnearBing?l.Thismagnifitbook,alongwiththeoneSheikhAliTabrizimadefor
thelateJihanShah,enteredOurSultan’streasuryinIstanbulwhentheever-victoriousTallHasanwasdefeatedattheBattleofOtlukbelibySultaKhanthequeror,mayherestinpeace.Thosewhotrulysee,know.
BASiheDenizenofParadise,SultanSüleymanKhantheLawgiver,favoredcalligraphersoverillustrators,unfortunateminiaturistsofthedaywouldretthepresentstoryasanexampleofhowillustratingsurpassescalligraphy.However,asanyonewhopayscloseattentionwillrealize,thistaleisactuallyaboutblindnessandmemory.AfterthedeathofTamerlane,RuleroftheWorld,hissonsandgrandchildreoattagandmercilesslybattliher.Ithatohemsucceededinqueringanother’scity,hisfirstawastominthisownsandhaveasermothemosque.Hissedactasvictorullapartthebooksthathadeintohispossession;anewdedicationwouldbewritten,boastingofthequerorasthenew“ruleroftheworld,”anewcolophonadded,anditwouldallbeboundtogetheragainsothatthosewholaideyesonthequeror’sbookwouldbelievethathetrulywasaworldruler.WhenAbdüllatif,thesonofTamerlane’sgrandsonUlu?Bey,capturedHerat,hemobilizedhisminiaturists,calligraphersandbinderswithsuchhaste,andsopressuredthemtomakeabookinhonorofhisfather,aoisseurofbookarts,thatasvolumeswereinthemidstofbeingunboundandthescriptedpagesdestroyedandburhecorrespondingpicturesbecamemixedup.SididhehonorofUlu?Beyforhissonteandbindalbumswithoutacareforwhichpicturebeloowhichstory,heassembledalltheminiaturistsiandrequestedthattheyretthestoriessoastoputtheillustrationsinproperorder.Fromeaiaturist’smouth,however,cameadifferentat,andsothecorrectorderoftheplateswasfusedallthemore.Thereupon,theoldestsurvivingheadminiaturistwassoughtout.Hewasamanwho’dextinguishedthelightofhiseyesinpainstakinglaboronthebooksofalltheshahsandprinceswho’druledoverHeratforthelastfifty-fouryears.Agreatotionensuedwhenthemenrealizedthattheoldmasternowpeeringatthepictureswasindeedblind.Somelaughed.Theelderlymasterrequestedthatanintelligentboy,whohadreachedtheageofsevenandwhocouldn’treadorwrite,bebroughtforward.Suchachildwasfoundandtakentohim.Theoldminiaturistplaumberofillustrationsbeforehim.“Describewhatyousee,”heinstructed.Astheboydescribedthepictures,theoldminiaturist,raisinghisblihesky,listenedcarefullyandresponded:“AlexandercradlingthedyingDariusfromFirdusi’sBookofKings…theatoftheteacherwhofallsihhishandsomestudentfromSadi’sRosegardeestofdoctorsfromNizami’sTreasuryofSecrets…”Theotherminiaturists,vexedbytheirelderlyandblindcolleague,said,“Wecould’vetoldyouthataswell.Thesearethebest-knownsesfromthemostfamousstories.”Inturn,theagedandblindminiaturistplacedthemostdifficultillustrationsbeforethechildandagainlisteently.“HürmüzpoisoningthecalligraphersonebyonefromFirdusi’sBookofKings,”hesaid,againfagthesky.“Acheaprenditionoftheterribleatofthecuckoldwhocatcheshiswifeandherloveriree,fromRumi’sMasnawi,”hesaid.Inthisfashion,relyingontheboy’sdescriptions,heidentifiedallofthepictures,noneofwhichhecouldsee,andtherebysucceededinhavingthebooksproperlyboundtogetheragain.WhenUlu?BeyenteredHeratwithhisarmy,heaskedtheoldminiaturistbywhatsecrethe,ablindman,couldidentifythosestoriesthatothermasterillustratorscouldermineevenbylookingatthem.“Itisn’t,asonemightassume,thatmymemorypensatesformy
blindness,”repliedtheoldillustrator.“Ihaveneverfottenthatstoriesarerecolleotonlythroughimages,butthroughwordsaswell.”Ulu?Beyrespohathisownminiaturistskhosewordsandstories,butstillcouldn’torderthepictures.“Because,”saidtheoldminiaturist,“theythinkquitewellwhenitestopainting,whichistheirskillortheirart,buttheydon’tprehendthattheoldmastersmadethesepicturesoutofthememoriesofAllahHimself.”Ulu?Beyaskedhowachildcouldknowsuchthings.“Thechilddoesn’tknow,”saidtheoldminiaturist.“ButI,anelderlyandblindminiaturist,knowthatAllahcreatedthisworldlyrealmthewayanintelligentseven-year-oldboywouldwanttoseeit;what’smore,Allahcreatedthisearthlyrealmsothat,aboveall,itmightbeseen.Afterward,Heprovideduswithwordssowemightshareanddiscusswithoherwhatwe’veseeakenlyassumedthatthesestoriesaroseoutofwordsandthatillustrationswerepaintedinserviceofthesestories.Quitetothetrary,paintingistheactofseekingoutAllah’smemoriesaheworldasHeseestheworld.”
DJIMTwohundredfiftyyearsago,Arabminiaturistswereiomofstaringatthewesternhorizonatdaybreaktoalleviatetheuandableaernalaiesaboutgoingblindsharedbyallminiaturists;likewise,aturylaterinShiraz,manyillustratorswouldeatwalnutsmashedwithrosepetalsoystomathems.Again,inthesameera,theelderminiaturistsofIsfahanwhobelievedsunlightwasresponsibleforthebliowhichtheysuccumbedonebyone,asiftotheplague,wouldworkinahalf-darkeroftheroom,andmostoftenbydlelight,topreventdirelightfromstrikingtheirworktables.Atday’send,intheworkshopsoftheUzbekartistsofBukhara,masterminiaturistswouldwashtheireyeswithwaterblessedbysheikhs.Butofalloftheseprecautions,thepurestapproachtoblindnesswasdiscoveredibytheminiaturistSeyyitMirek,mentortothegreatmasterBihzad.AcctomasterminiaturistMirek,blindnesswasn’tasce,butrathertheingrewardbestowedbyAllahupontheilluminatorwhohaddevotedairelifetoHisglories;forillustratingwastheminiaturist’ssearchforAllah’svisionoftheearthlyrealm,andthisuniqueperspectivecouldoaihroughrecolleafterblindnessdesded,onlyafteralifetimeofhardworkandonlyaftertheminiaturist’seyestiredandhehadexpendedhimself.Thus,Allah’svisionofHisworldonlybeahroughthememoryofblindminiaturists.Whenthisimageestotheagingminiaturist,thatis,wheheworldasAllahseesitthroughthedarknessofmemoryandbliheillustratorwillhavespenthislifetimetraininghishandsoitmighttrahissplendidrevelationtothepage.AcctothehistorianMirzaMuhammetHaydarDuglat,whowroteextensivelyaboutthelegendsofHeratminiaturists,themasterSeyyitMirek,inhisexplicationoftheaforementioionofpainting,usedtheexampleoftheillustratorwhowaodrawahorse.Hereasohateveuedpainter—onewhoseheadisemptylikethoseoftoday’sVeianpainters—whodrawsthepictureofahorsewhilelookingatahorsewillstillmaketheimagefrommemory;because,yousee,itisimpossible,atohesametime,tolookatthehorseandatthepageuponwhichthehorse’simageappears.First,theillustratorlooksatthehorse,thenhequicklytransferswhateverrestsinhismindtothepage.Ierim,evenifonlyawinkintime,whattheartistrepresentsonthepageisnotthehorsehesees,butthememoryofthehorsehehasjustseen.Proofthatforevemiserableillustrator,apictureispossibleonlythroughmemory.Thelogicalextensionofthiscept,whichregardstheactiveworklifeofaminiaturistasbutpreparationforboth
theresultingblissofblindnessandblindmemory,isthatthemastersofHeratregardedtheillustrationstheymadeforbibliophileshahsandprirainingforthehand—asanexercise.Theyacceptedthework,theendlessdrawingandstaringatpagesbydlelightfordayswithoutbreak,asthepleasurablelaborthatdeliveredtheminiaturisttoblihroughouthiswholelife,themasterminiaturistMirekstantlysoughtoutthemostappropriatemomentforthismostgloriousofapproageventualities,eitherbypurposelyhurryingblihroughthepainstakiionoftreesandalltheirleavesonfingernails,grainsofridevenonstrandsofhair,orbycautiouslydelayingtheimmidarknessbytheeffortlessdrawingofpleasant,sun-filledgardens.Whenhewasseventy,iorewardthisgreatmaster,SultanHüseyinBaykaraallowedhimtoehetreasurytainingthousandsofmanuscriptplatesthattheSultanhadcollectedandsecuredunderlodkey.There,ireasurythatalsotainedons,goldandboltuponboltofsilkacloth,bythedlelightofgoldendelabra,MasterMirekstaredatthemagnifitleavesofthosebooks,eachalegendinitsht,madebytheoldmastersofHerat.Andafterthreedaysandnightsoftinuousscrutiny,thegreatmasterwentblind.Heacceptedhisditionwithmaturityandresignation,thewayonemightgreettheAngelsofAllah,andheneverspokeorpaintedagain.MirzaMuhammetHaydarDuglat,theauthoroftheHistoryofRashid,ascribedthistursasfollows:“AminiaturistuhthevisionandlandscapeofAllah’simmortaltimeeverreturntothemanuscriptpagesmeantforordinarymortals”;andheadds,“Wherevertheblindminiaturist’smemoriesreachAllahtherereignsanabsolutesilence,ablesseddarknessandtheinfinityofablankpage.”
CertainlyitwaslessoutofdesiretohearmyaoMasterOsman’squestiononblindnessandmemorythantoputhimselfateasethatBlackaskedmethequestionwhileheporedovermypossessions,myroomandmypictures.Yetagain,IleasedtoseethatthestoriesIretedaffectedhim.“BlindnessisarealmofblissfromwhichtheDevilandguiltarebarred,”Isaidtohim.
“InTabriz,”saidBlack,“underMasterMirek’sinflueneoftheminiaturistsoftheoldstylestilllookuponblindnessasthegreatestvirtueofAllah’sgradthey’reembarrassedaboutgrowingoldbutnotblioday,fearingthatotherswillsiderthisproofofalackoftalentandskill,theypretendtobeblind.AsaresultofthismoralviwhichbearstheinfluenalettinofKazvin,someofthemsitforweeksinthedarknessamidmirrors,inthedimlightofanoillamp,withouteatingordrinkingandstareatillustratedpagespaiheoldmastersofHeratiolearnhowtoperceivetheworldlikeablindmaenottrulybeingblind.”
Somebodyknocked.Iopehedoortofindahandsomeapprentitheworkshopwhoselovelyalmondeyeswereopenedwide.Hesaidthatthebodyofourbrother,thegilderElegantEffendi,hadbeendiscoveredinanabandonedwellandthathisfuneralprocessionwouldeheMihrimahMosqueduriernoonprayer.Hethenranofftodelivertheoothers.Allah,mayyouprotectusall.
IAMESTHERTellmethen,doeslovemakeoneafoolordoonlyfoolsfallinlove?I’vebeenaclothespeddlerand
matchmakerforyears,andIdon’thavetheslightestclue.Howit’dthrillmetobeeacquaihmen—orcouples—whogrewmoreintelligentandbecamemoreinganddeviousastheyfelldeeperinlove.Idoknowthismuchthough:Ifamastowiles,guileaydeceptions,itmeanshe’snowherenearbeinginlove.AsforBlackEffendi,it’sobviousthathe’salreadylosthisposure—whealksaboutShekurehelosesallself-trol.
Atthebazaar,Ifedhimbyroteallthewell-rehearsedrefrainsthatItelleveryone:Shekureisalwaysthinkingofhim,sheaskedmeabouthisrespooherletter,I’dneverseenherlikethisandsoon.HegavemesuchalookthatIpitiedhim.HetoldmetotakethelettertoShekurestraightaway.Everyidiotassumesthere’sapressingcircumstanceabouthislovethatatesparticularhaste,andtherebylaysbaretheiyofhislove,unwittinglyputtingaonintothehandsofhisbeloved.Ifhisloverissmart,she’llpostpoheahemoral:Hastedelaysthefruitsoflove.
HadlovesickBlaownthatIfirsttookadetourwhilecarryierhe’dchargedmetodeliver“posthaste,”he’dthahemarketsquare,Inearlyfrozetodeathwaitingforhim.Afterheleft,IthoughtI’dvisitoneofmy“daughters”to.IcallthemaidenswhoselettersI’vedelivered,theonesI’vemarriedoffthroughthesweatofmybrow,my“daughters.”Thisuglymaidenofminewassothankfulandbeholdeatmyeveryvisit,beyondwaitingonmehandandfoot,flittingaboutlikeamoth,she’dpressafewsilversintomypalm.Nowsheregnantandingoodhumor.Sheputlieaontheboil.Isavoredeachsip.Whemealone,ItedthesBlackEffendihadgivewentysilverpieces.
Isetoutonmywayagain.Ipassedthroughsidestreetsandthroughominousalleywaysthatwerefrozen,muddyandnearlyimpassable.AsIwasknogonthedoor,mirthtookholdofmeaoshout.
“Theclothierishere!Clothierrr!”Isaid.“eahebestofmyruffledmuslinfitforasultan.egetmystunningshawlsfromKashmir,myBursavelvetsashysuperbsilk-edgedEgyptianshirtyembroideredmuslintablecloths,mymattressandbedsheets,andmycolorfulhandkerchiefs.Clothierrr!”
Thedooropened.Ientered.Asalways,thehousesmelledofbedding,sleep,fryingoilandhumidity,thatterriblesmellpeculiartoagingbachelors.
“Oldhag,”hesaid.“Whyareyoushouting?”
Isilentlyremovedtheletterandhaohim.Inthehalf-litroom,hestealthilyandquietlyapproachedmeandsnatcheditfrommyhand.Hepassedintotheroomwhereanoillampalwaysburned.Iwaitedatthethreshold.
“Isn’tyourdearfatherhome?”
Hedidn’tanswer.He’dlosthimselfier.Ilefthimalonesohecouldread.Hestoodbehindthelamp,andIcouldn’tseehisface.Afterfinishier,hereaditanew.
“Yes,”Isaid,“andwhathashewritten?”
Hasanread:
MyDearestShekure,asItoohaveforyearsnowsustainedmyselfthroughmydreamsofonesingleperson,Irespectfullyuandyourwaitingforyourhusbandwithoutsideringanother.Whatelsecouldoneexpeawomanofyourstaturebesideshoyandvirtue?[Hasancackled!]Myingtovisityourfatherforthesakeofpainting,however,doesnotamounttoharassingyou.Thiswouldneverevenymind.Imakenoclaimathavingreceivedasignfromyouoranyotherencement.Whenyourfaceappearedtomeatthewindowlikedivinelight,IsidereditnothingbutanactofGod’sgrace.ThepleasureofseeingyourfaceisallIneed.[“HetookthatfromNizami,”Hasaninterrupted,annoyed.]Butyouaskmetokeepmydistaellmethen,areyouahatapproagyoushouldbesoterrifying?ListentowhatIhavetosay,listen:Iusedtotrytosleepwatgthemoonlightfallontothenakedmountainsfromremoteandgodforsakencaravansarieswherenobodybutadesperatehankeeperahugsfleeingthegallowslodged,andthere,inthemiddleofthenight,listeningtothehowlingofwolvesevenlonelierandmoreunfortuhanmyself,Iusedtothinkthatonedayyouwouldsuddenlyappeartome,justasyoudidatthewindow.Readclosely:NowthatI’vereturoyourfatherforthesakeofthebook,you’vesentbackthepictureImadeinmychildhood.IknowthisisnotasignofyourdeathbutasignthatI’vefoundyouagain.Isawoneofyourchildren,Orhan.Thatpoorfatherlessboy.OnedayIwillbeehisfather!
“Godprotecthim,he’swrittenwell,”Isaid,“thisonehasbeequitethepoet.”
“”Areyouahatapproagyoushouldbesoterrifying?“”herepeated.“HestolethatlinefromIbnZerhani.Icoulddobetter.”Hetookhisoweroutofhispocket.“TakethisanddeliverittoShekure.”
Forthefirsttime,acceptingmoneyalongwiththelettersdisturbedme.Ifeltsomethinglikedisgusttowardthismanandhismadobsession,hisuedlove.Hasan,asiftofirmmyhunch,forthefirsttimeinalongwhilesetasidehisgoodetiquetteandsaidquiterudely:
“Tellherthatifwesodesire,we’llforceherbackhereunderpressureofthejudge.”
“Youreallywaosaythat?”
Silenay,”hesaid.Thelightfromtheoillampilluminatedhisface,allowioseehimlowerhisheadlikeaguiltychild.It’sbecauseIknowthissideofHasan’scharacteraswellthatIhavesomerespectforhisfeelingsanddeliverhisletters.It’snotonlyforthemoney,asyoumightthink.
Iwasleavingthehouse,aoppedmeatthedoor.
“DoyouletShekureknowhowmuchIloveher?”heaskedmeexcitedlyandfoolishly.
“Don’tyoutellhersoinyourletters?”
“TellmehowImightvinceheraher?HowmightIpersuadethem?”
“Bybeingagoodperson,”Isaidandwalkedtothedoor.
“Atthisage,it’stoolate…”hesaidwithsincereanguish.
“You’vebeguntoearnalotofmoney,sOfficerHasan.Thismakesoneagoodperson…”Isaidandfled.
Thehousewassodarkandmelancholythattheairoutsideseemedwarmer.Thesunlighthitmyface.IwishedforShekure’shappiness.ButIalsofeltsomethingforthatpoormaninthatdamp,chillyanddarkhouse.Onawhim,IturotheSpiceMarketihinkingthesmellsofamon,saffronandpepperwouldrestoremyspirits.Iwasmistaken.
AtShekure’shouse,aftershetookuptheletters,sheimmediatelyaskedafterBlack.Itoldherthatthefireoflovehadmercilesslyengulfedhisentirebeing.Thisnewspleasedher.
“EvenlonelyspinstersbusywiththeirknittingarediscussingwhyElegantEffendimight’vebeenkilled,”Isaidlater,gingthesubject.
“Hayriye,makesomehalvaasapresentofdoleakeitovertoKalbiye,pantEffendi’swidow,”saidShekure.
“AlltheErzurumisandquiteacrowdofotherswillbeattendinghisfuneralservice,”Isaid.“Hisrelativesswearthey’llavengehisspiltblood.”
ShekurehadalreadybeguntoreadBlack’sletter.Ilookedintoherfatentlyandangrily.Thiswomanrobablysuchafoxthatshecouldtrolhowherpassionswerereflectedinherface.AsshereadIsehatmysilencepleasedher,thatsheregardeditasmyapprovalofthespecialimportshegavetoBlack’sletter.Shekurefiheletterandsmiledatme;tomeetwithhersatisfa,Ifeltforcedtoask,“Whathashewritten?”
“Justasinhischildhood…He’sihme.”
“Whatareyourthoughts?”
“I’mamarriedwoman.I’mwaitingformyhusband.”
trarytoyourexpectations,thefactthatshe’dlietomeafteraskiogetinvolvedinheraffairsdidn’tangerme.Actually,thisentrelievedme.IfmoreoftheyoungmaidensandwomenI’vecarriedlettersforandadvisedinthewaysoftheworldatteodetailsthewayShekuredid,theywould’velesseheworkforusbothbyhalf.Moreimportantly,theywould’veendedupiermarriages.
“Whatdoestheotheroe?”Iaskedanyway.
“Idon’tioreadHasaerrightnow,”sheanswered.“DoesHasanknowthatBlack’sreturoIstanbul?”
“Hedoesn’tevenknowheexists.”
“DoyouspeakwithHasan?”sheasked,openingwideherbeautifulblackeyes.
“Asyou’verequested.”
“Yes?”
“He’sinagony.He’sdeeplyihyou.Evenifyourheartbelongstoa’llbedifficultevertobefreeofhimnotinghislettersyou’vegreatlyencedhim.Bewaryofhim,however.Fornotonlydoeshewanttomakeyoureturnthere,butbyestablishingthathisolderbrotherhasdied,he’spreparingtomarryyou.”Ismiledtosoftentheweightofthesewordsandsoasnottobereducedtobeingthatmaltent’smouthpiece.
“What’stheotheronesay,then?”sheasked,butdidsheherselfknowwhomshewasinquiringafter?
“Theminiaturist?”
“Mymind’sallajumble,”shesaidsuddenly,perhapsafraidofherownthoughts.“Itseemsthatmatterswillbeeevenmorefused.Myfather’sgrowingolder.What’llbeeofus,ofthesefatherlesschildren?Isenseanevilapproag,thattheDevilispreparingsomemischiefforus.Esther,tellmesomethingthatwillheartenme.”
“Don’tyoufretintheslightest,mydearestShekure,”Isaidasemotionwelledupwithinme.“You’retrulyintelligent,you’reverybeautiful.Onedayyou’llsleepinthesamebedwithyourhandsomehusband,you’llcuddlewithhim,andhavingfottenallyourworries,you’llbehappy.Ireadthisinyoureyes.”
Suchafferosewithimyeyesfilledwithtears.
“Fiwhiewillbeyhusband?”
“Isn’tthatwiseheartofyivingyouananswer?”
“It’sbecauseIdon’tuandwhatmyheartissayingthatI’mdispirited.”
ForamomentitoccurredtomethatShekuredidn’ttrustmeatall,thatshewasmasterfullycealingherdistrustiolearnwhatIkhatshewastryingtoarousemypity.WhenIsawshewouldingarespohelettersatpresent,Igrabbedmysateredthecourtyardandslippedaway—butnotbeforesayingsomethingItoldallmymaids,eventhosewhowerecross-eyed:
“Fearnot,mydear,ifyoukeepthosebeautifuleyesofyourspeeled,nomisfortune,nomisfortuallwillbefallyou.”
I,SHEKUREIftruthbetold,itusedtobethateachtimeEsthertheclothierpaidavisit,I’dfantasizethatamanstriwithlovewouldfinallyberousedtowritealetterthatc松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
Hesaidhe’detoverse,topayafriendlyvisit,tohavealookatmyillustrations.Iweledhimsohemightseeitall.Ilearnedhe’djusttodayvisitedHeadIlluminatorMasterOsmanandkissedhishand.Thegreatmaster,heexplained,hadgivenhimwisewordstoponder:“Apainter’squalitybeesevidentinhisdiscussionsofblindnessandmemory,”he’dsaid.Soletitbeevident:
BlindnessandMemoryBeforetheartofilluminationtherewasblaessandafterwardtherewillalsobeblaess.Throughourcolors,paints,artandlove,werememberthatAllahhadao“See”!Toknowistorememberthatyou’veseen.Toseeistoknowwithoutremembering.Thus,paintingisrememberingtheblaess.Thegreatmasters,whosharedaloveofpaintingandperceivedthatcolorandsightarosefromdarkness,looreturntoAllah’sblaessbymeansofcolor.ArtistswithoutmemoryherrememberAllahnorhisblaess.Allgreatmasters,intheirwork,seekthatprofoundvoidwithincolorandoutsidetime.Letmeexplaintoyouwhatitmeanstorememberthisdarkness,whichwasrevealedibythegreatmastersofold.
ThreeStoriesonBlindnessandMemoryALIFInLami’iChelebi’sTurkishtranslationofthePersiaJami’sGiftsofIntimacy,whichaddressesthestoriesofthesaints,itiswrittenthatinthebookmaker’sworkshopofJihanShah,theruleroftheBlacksheepnation,therenownedmasterSheikhAliTabrizihadillustratedamagnifitversionofHüsrevandShirin.AcctowhatI’veheard,inthislegendarymanuscript,whichtookeleveoplete,themasterofmasterminiaturists,SheikhAli,displayedsuchtalentandskillandpaintedsuderfulpicturesthatonlythegreatestoftheoldmasters,Bihzad,couldhavematchedhim.Evenbeforetheilluminatedmanuscriptwashalffinished,JihanShahkhathewouldsoonpossessaspectacularbookwithoutequalinalltheworld.HethuslivedinfearandjealousyofyoungTallHasan,theruleroftheWhitesheepnation,anddeclaredhimhisaremy.Moreover,JihanShahquicklysehatthoughhisprestigewouldgrowimmenselyafterthebookwaspleted,aterversionofthemanuscriptcouldbemadeforTallHasan.Beihosetrulyjealousmenwhopoisonedhisowntewiththethought“Whatifothersetoknowsuchbliss?”JihanShahseoifthevirtuosominiaturistmadeanothercopy,oreveerversion,itwouldbeforhisaremyTallHasan.Thus,iopreventanyonebesideshimselffromowningthismagnifitbook,JihanShahdecidedtohavethemasterminiaturistSheikhAlikilledafterhe’dpletedthebook.Butagood-heartedCircassiayinhisharemadvisedhimthatblindierminiaturistwouldsuffice.JihanShahforthtedthiscleveridea,whichhepassedontohiscircleofsycophants,untilitultimatelyreachedtheearsofSheikhAli.Evenso,SheikhAlididhebookhalffinishedaabrizasother,mediocreillustratht’vedone.Hedidtogameslikeslowingdowntheprogressofthemanuscriptormakinginferiorillustrationssoitwouldn’tbe“perfedtherebyforestallinghisimmiblinding.Indeed,heworkedwithevenmoreardorandvi.Inthehousewherehelivedalone,he’dbeginwafterthemprayersandtinueillustratingthesamehorses,cypresses,lovers,dragonsandhandsomeprincesbydlelightinthemiddleofthenightagainandagainuntilbittertearsstreamedfromhiseyes.Muchofthetime,he’dgazefordaysatanillustrationbyohegreatoldmastersofHeratashemadeacopyonanothersheet.Intheend,hepletedthebookforJihanShahtheBlacksheep,andasthemasterminiaturisthadexpected,hewasatfirstpraisedandshoweredwithgoldpieces,beforebeingblihasharpplumeneedleusedtoaffixturbanplumes.Beforehispainhadevensubsided,SheikhAlileftHerataojoinTallHasaesheep.“Yes,indeed,Iamblind,”heexplaiallHasaIremembereachofthesplendorsofthemanuscriptI’veilluminatedforthelastelevenyears,downtoeachmarkofthepenandeachstrokeofthebrush,andmyhanddrawitagainfrommemory.MyExcellency,Icouldillustratethegreatestmanuscriptofalltimeforyou.Sincemyeyeswillnolongerbedistractedbythefilthofthisworld,I’llbeabletodepictallthegloriesofAllahfrommemory,intheirpurestform.”TallHasanbelievedthegreatmasterminiaturist;aerminiaturist,keepinghispromise,illustratedfrommemorythemostmagnifitofbooksfortheruleroftheWhitesheep.EveryohespiritualpowerprovidedbythenewbookwaswhatlaybehindTallHasan’ssubsequeoftheBlacksheepaoriousKhan’sexecutionofJihanShahduringaraidnearBing?l.Thismagnifitbook,alongwiththeoneSheikhAliTabrizimadefor
thelateJihanShah,enteredOurSultan’streasuryinIstanbulwhentheever-victoriousTallHasanwasdefeatedattheBattleofOtlukbelibySultaKhanthequeror,mayherestinpeace.Thosewhotrulysee,know.
BASiheDenizenofParadise,SultanSüleymanKhantheLawgiver,favoredcalligraphersoverillustrators,unfortunateminiaturistsofthedaywouldretthepresentstoryasanexampleofhowillustratingsurpassescalligraphy.However,asanyonewhopayscloseattentionwillrealize,thistaleisactuallyaboutblindnessandmemory.AfterthedeathofTamerlane,RuleroftheWorld,hissonsandgrandchildreoattagandmercilesslybattliher.Ithatohemsucceededinqueringanother’scity,hisfirstawastominthisownsandhaveasermothemosque.Hissedactasvictorullapartthebooksthathadeintohispossession;anewdedicationwouldbewritten,boastingofthequerorasthenew“ruleroftheworld,”anewcolophonadded,anditwouldallbeboundtogetheragainsothatthosewholaideyesonthequeror’sbookwouldbelievethathetrulywasaworldruler.WhenAbdüllatif,thesonofTamerlane’sgrandsonUlu?Bey,capturedHerat,hemobilizedhisminiaturists,calligraphersandbinderswithsuchhaste,andsopressuredthemtomakeabookinhonorofhisfather,aoisseurofbookarts,thatasvolumeswereinthemidstofbeingunboundandthescriptedpagesdestroyedandburhecorrespondingpicturesbecamemixedup.SididhehonorofUlu?Beyforhissonteandbindalbumswithoutacareforwhichpicturebeloowhichstory,heassembledalltheminiaturistsiandrequestedthattheyretthestoriessoastoputtheillustrationsinproperorder.Fromeaiaturist’smouth,however,cameadifferentat,andsothecorrectorderoftheplateswasfusedallthemore.Thereupon,theoldestsurvivingheadminiaturistwassoughtout.Hewasamanwho’dextinguishedthelightofhiseyesinpainstakinglaboronthebooksofalltheshahsandprinceswho’druledoverHeratforthelastfifty-fouryears.Agreatotionensuedwhenthemenrealizedthattheoldmasternowpeeringatthepictureswasindeedblind.Somelaughed.Theelderlymasterrequestedthatanintelligentboy,whohadreachedtheageofsevenandwhocouldn’treadorwrite,bebroughtforward.Suchachildwasfoundandtakentohim.Theoldminiaturistplaumberofillustrationsbeforehim.“Describewhatyousee,”heinstructed.Astheboydescribedthepictures,theoldminiaturist,raisinghisblihesky,listenedcarefullyandresponded:“AlexandercradlingthedyingDariusfromFirdusi’sBookofKings…theatoftheteacherwhofallsihhishandsomestudentfromSadi’sRosegardeestofdoctorsfromNizami’sTreasuryofSecrets…”Theotherminiaturists,vexedbytheirelderlyandblindcolleague,said,“Wecould’vetoldyouthataswell.Thesearethebest-knownsesfromthemostfamousstories.”Inturn,theagedandblindminiaturistplacedthemostdifficultillustrationsbeforethechildandagainlisteently.“HürmüzpoisoningthecalligraphersonebyonefromFirdusi’sBookofKings,”hesaid,againfagthesky.“Acheaprenditionoftheterribleatofthecuckoldwhocatcheshiswifeandherloveriree,fromRumi’sMasnawi,”hesaid.Inthisfashion,relyingontheboy’sdescriptions,heidentifiedallofthepictures,noneofwhichhecouldsee,andtherebysucceededinhavingthebooksproperlyboundtogetheragain.WhenUlu?BeyenteredHeratwithhisarmy,heaskedtheoldminiaturistbywhatsecrethe,ablindman,couldidentifythosestoriesthatothermasterillustratorscouldermineevenbylookingatthem.“Itisn’t,asonemightassume,thatmymemorypensatesformy
blindness,”repliedtheoldillustrator.“Ihaveneverfottenthatstoriesarerecolleotonlythroughimages,butthroughwordsaswell.”Ulu?Beyrespohathisownminiaturistskhosewordsandstories,butstillcouldn’torderthepictures.“Because,”saidtheoldminiaturist,“theythinkquitewellwhenitestopainting,whichistheirskillortheirart,buttheydon’tprehendthattheoldmastersmadethesepicturesoutofthememoriesofAllahHimself.”Ulu?Beyaskedhowachildcouldknowsuchthings.“Thechilddoesn’tknow,”saidtheoldminiaturist.“ButI,anelderlyandblindminiaturist,knowthatAllahcreatedthisworldlyrealmthewayanintelligentseven-year-oldboywouldwanttoseeit;what’smore,Allahcreatedthisearthlyrealmsothat,aboveall,itmightbeseen.Afterward,Heprovideduswithwordssowemightshareanddiscusswithoherwhatwe’veseeakenlyassumedthatthesestoriesaroseoutofwordsandthatillustrationswerepaintedinserviceofthesestories.Quitetothetrary,paintingistheactofseekingoutAllah’smemoriesaheworldasHeseestheworld.”
DJIMTwohundredfiftyyearsago,Arabminiaturistswereiomofstaringatthewesternhorizonatdaybreaktoalleviatetheuandableaernalaiesaboutgoingblindsharedbyallminiaturists;likewise,aturylaterinShiraz,manyillustratorswouldeatwalnutsmashedwithrosepetalsoystomathems.Again,inthesameera,theelderminiaturistsofIsfahanwhobelievedsunlightwasresponsibleforthebliowhichtheysuccumbedonebyone,asiftotheplague,wouldworkinahalf-darkeroftheroom,andmostoftenbydlelight,topreventdirelightfromstrikingtheirworktables.Atday’send,intheworkshopsoftheUzbekartistsofBukhara,masterminiaturistswouldwashtheireyeswithwaterblessedbysheikhs.Butofalloftheseprecautions,thepurestapproachtoblindnesswasdiscoveredibytheminiaturistSeyyitMirek,mentortothegreatmasterBihzad.AcctomasterminiaturistMirek,blindnesswasn’tasce,butrathertheingrewardbestowedbyAllahupontheilluminatorwhohaddevotedairelifetoHisglories;forillustratingwastheminiaturist’ssearchforAllah’svisionoftheearthlyrealm,andthisuniqueperspectivecouldoaihroughrecolleafterblindnessdesded,onlyafteralifetimeofhardworkandonlyaftertheminiaturist’seyestiredandhehadexpendedhimself.Thus,Allah’svisionofHisworldonlybeahroughthememoryofblindminiaturists.Whenthisimageestotheagingminiaturist,thatis,wheheworldasAllahseesitthroughthedarknessofmemoryandbliheillustratorwillhavespenthislifetimetraininghishandsoitmighttrahissplendidrevelationtothepage.AcctothehistorianMirzaMuhammetHaydarDuglat,whowroteextensivelyaboutthelegendsofHeratminiaturists,themasterSeyyitMirek,inhisexplicationoftheaforementioionofpainting,usedtheexampleoftheillustratorwhowaodrawahorse.Hereasohateveuedpainter—onewhoseheadisemptylikethoseoftoday’sVeianpainters—whodrawsthepictureofahorsewhilelookingatahorsewillstillmaketheimagefrommemory;because,yousee,itisimpossible,atohesametime,tolookatthehorseandatthepageuponwhichthehorse’simageappears.First,theillustratorlooksatthehorse,thenhequicklytransferswhateverrestsinhismindtothepage.Ierim,evenifonlyawinkintime,whattheartistrepresentsonthepageisnotthehorsehesees,butthememoryofthehorsehehasjustseen.Proofthatforevemiserableillustrator,apictureispossibleonlythroughmemory.Thelogicalextensionofthiscept,whichregardstheactiveworklifeofaminiaturistasbutpreparationforboth
theresultingblissofblindnessandblindmemory,isthatthemastersofHeratregardedtheillustrationstheymadeforbibliophileshahsandprirainingforthehand—asanexercise.Theyacceptedthework,theendlessdrawingandstaringatpagesbydlelightfordayswithoutbreak,asthepleasurablelaborthatdeliveredtheminiaturisttoblihroughouthiswholelife,themasterminiaturistMirekstantlysoughtoutthemostappropriatemomentforthismostgloriousofapproageventualities,eitherbypurposelyhurryingblihroughthepainstakiionoftreesandalltheirleavesonfingernails,grainsofridevenonstrandsofhair,orbycautiouslydelayingtheimmidarknessbytheeffortlessdrawingofpleasant,sun-filledgardens.Whenhewasseventy,iorewardthisgreatmaster,SultanHüseyinBaykaraallowedhimtoehetreasurytainingthousandsofmanuscriptplatesthattheSultanhadcollectedandsecuredunderlodkey.There,ireasurythatalsotainedons,goldandboltuponboltofsilkacloth,bythedlelightofgoldendelabra,MasterMirekstaredatthemagnifitleavesofthosebooks,eachalegendinitsht,madebytheoldmastersofHerat.Andafterthreedaysandnightsoftinuousscrutiny,thegreatmasterwentblind.Heacceptedhisditionwithmaturityandresignation,thewayonemightgreettheAngelsofAllah,andheneverspokeorpaintedagain.MirzaMuhammetHaydarDuglat,theauthoroftheHistoryofRashid,ascribedthistursasfollows:“AminiaturistuhthevisionandlandscapeofAllah’simmortaltimeeverreturntothemanuscriptpagesmeantforordinarymortals”;andheadds,“Wherevertheblindminiaturist’smemoriesreachAllahtherereignsanabsolutesilence,ablesseddarknessandtheinfinityofablankpage.”
CertainlyitwaslessoutofdesiretohearmyaoMasterOsman’squestiononblindnessandmemorythantoputhimselfateasethatBlackaskedmethequestionwhileheporedovermypossessions,myroomandmypictures.Yetagain,IleasedtoseethatthestoriesIretedaffectedhim.“BlindnessisarealmofblissfromwhichtheDevilandguiltarebarred,”Isaidtohim.
“InTabriz,”saidBlack,“underMasterMirek’sinflueneoftheminiaturistsoftheoldstylestilllookuponblindnessasthegreatestvirtueofAllah’sgradthey’reembarrassedaboutgrowingoldbutnotblioday,fearingthatotherswillsiderthisproofofalackoftalentandskill,theypretendtobeblind.AsaresultofthismoralviwhichbearstheinfluenalettinofKazvin,someofthemsitforweeksinthedarknessamidmirrors,inthedimlightofanoillamp,withouteatingordrinkingandstareatillustratedpagespaiheoldmastersofHeratiolearnhowtoperceivetheworldlikeablindmaenottrulybeingblind.”
Somebodyknocked.Iopehedoortofindahandsomeapprentitheworkshopwhoselovelyalmondeyeswereopenedwide.Hesaidthatthebodyofourbrother,thegilderElegantEffendi,hadbeendiscoveredinanabandonedwellandthathisfuneralprocessionwouldeheMihrimahMosqueduriernoonprayer.Hethenranofftodelivertheoothers.Allah,mayyouprotectusall.
IAMESTHERTellmethen,doeslovemakeoneafoolordoonlyfoolsfallinlove?I’vebeenaclothespeddlerand
matchmakerforyears,andIdon’thavetheslightestclue.Howit’dthrillmetobeeacquaihmen—orcouples—whogrewmoreintelligentandbecamemoreinganddeviousastheyfelldeeperinlove.Idoknowthismuchthough:Ifamastowiles,guileaydeceptions,itmeanshe’snowherenearbeinginlove.AsforBlackEffendi,it’sobviousthathe’salreadylosthisposure—whealksaboutShekurehelosesallself-trol.
Atthebazaar,Ifedhimbyroteallthewell-rehearsedrefrainsthatItelleveryone:Shekureisalwaysthinkingofhim,sheaskedmeabouthisrespooherletter,I’dneverseenherlikethisandsoon.HegavemesuchalookthatIpitiedhim.HetoldmetotakethelettertoShekurestraightaway.Everyidiotassumesthere’sapressingcircumstanceabouthislovethatatesparticularhaste,andtherebylaysbaretheiyofhislove,unwittinglyputtingaonintothehandsofhisbeloved.Ifhisloverissmart,she’llpostpoheahemoral:Hastedelaysthefruitsoflove.
HadlovesickBlaownthatIfirsttookadetourwhilecarryierhe’dchargedmetodeliver“posthaste,”he’dthahemarketsquare,Inearlyfrozetodeathwaitingforhim.Afterheleft,IthoughtI’dvisitoneofmy“daughters”to.IcallthemaidenswhoselettersI’vedelivered,theonesI’vemarriedoffthroughthesweatofmybrow,my“daughters.”Thisuglymaidenofminewassothankfulandbeholdeatmyeveryvisit,beyondwaitingonmehandandfoot,flittingaboutlikeamoth,she’dpressafewsilversintomypalm.Nowsheregnantandingoodhumor.Sheputlieaontheboil.Isavoredeachsip.Whemealone,ItedthesBlackEffendihadgivewentysilverpieces.
Isetoutonmywayagain.Ipassedthroughsidestreetsandthroughominousalleywaysthatwerefrozen,muddyandnearlyimpassable.AsIwasknogonthedoor,mirthtookholdofmeaoshout.
“Theclothierishere!Clothierrr!”Isaid.“eahebestofmyruffledmuslinfitforasultan.egetmystunningshawlsfromKashmir,myBursavelvetsashysuperbsilk-edgedEgyptianshirtyembroideredmuslintablecloths,mymattressandbedsheets,andmycolorfulhandkerchiefs.Clothierrr!”
Thedooropened.Ientered.Asalways,thehousesmelledofbedding,sleep,fryingoilandhumidity,thatterriblesmellpeculiartoagingbachelors.
“Oldhag,”hesaid.“Whyareyoushouting?”
Isilentlyremovedtheletterandhaohim.Inthehalf-litroom,hestealthilyandquietlyapproachedmeandsnatcheditfrommyhand.Hepassedintotheroomwhereanoillampalwaysburned.Iwaitedatthethreshold.
“Isn’tyourdearfatherhome?”
Hedidn’tanswer.He’dlosthimselfier.Ilefthimalonesohecouldread.Hestoodbehindthelamp,andIcouldn’tseehisface.Afterfinishier,hereaditanew.
“Yes,”Isaid,“andwhathashewritten?”
Hasanread:
MyDearestShekure,asItoohaveforyearsnowsustainedmyselfthroughmydreamsofonesingleperson,Irespectfullyuandyourwaitingforyourhusbandwithoutsideringanother.Whatelsecouldoneexpeawomanofyourstaturebesideshoyandvirtue?[Hasancackled!]Myingtovisityourfatherforthesakeofpainting,however,doesnotamounttoharassingyou.Thiswouldneverevenymind.Imakenoclaimathavingreceivedasignfromyouoranyotherencement.Whenyourfaceappearedtomeatthewindowlikedivinelight,IsidereditnothingbutanactofGod’sgrace.ThepleasureofseeingyourfaceisallIneed.[“HetookthatfromNizami,”Hasaninterrupted,annoyed.]Butyouaskmetokeepmydistaellmethen,areyouahatapproagyoushouldbesoterrifying?ListentowhatIhavetosay,listen:Iusedtotrytosleepwatgthemoonlightfallontothenakedmountainsfromremoteandgodforsakencaravansarieswherenobodybutadesperatehankeeperahugsfleeingthegallowslodged,andthere,inthemiddleofthenight,listeningtothehowlingofwolvesevenlonelierandmoreunfortuhanmyself,Iusedtothinkthatonedayyouwouldsuddenlyappeartome,justasyoudidatthewindow.Readclosely:NowthatI’vereturoyourfatherforthesakeofthebook,you’vesentbackthepictureImadeinmychildhood.IknowthisisnotasignofyourdeathbutasignthatI’vefoundyouagain.Isawoneofyourchildren,Orhan.Thatpoorfatherlessboy.OnedayIwillbeehisfather!
“Godprotecthim,he’swrittenwell,”Isaid,“thisonehasbeequitethepoet.”
“”Areyouahatapproagyoushouldbesoterrifying?“”herepeated.“HestolethatlinefromIbnZerhani.Icoulddobetter.”Hetookhisoweroutofhispocket.“TakethisanddeliverittoShekure.”
Forthefirsttime,acceptingmoneyalongwiththelettersdisturbedme.Ifeltsomethinglikedisgusttowardthismanandhismadobsession,hisuedlove.Hasan,asiftofirmmyhunch,forthefirsttimeinalongwhilesetasidehisgoodetiquetteandsaidquiterudely:
“Tellherthatifwesodesire,we’llforceherbackhereunderpressureofthejudge.”
“Youreallywaosaythat?”
Silenay,”hesaid.Thelightfromtheoillampilluminatedhisface,allowioseehimlowerhisheadlikeaguiltychild.It’sbecauseIknowthissideofHasan’scharacteraswellthatIhavesomerespectforhisfeelingsanddeliverhisletters.It’snotonlyforthemoney,asyoumightthink.
Iwasleavingthehouse,aoppedmeatthedoor.
“DoyouletShekureknowhowmuchIloveher?”heaskedmeexcitedlyandfoolishly.
“Don’tyoutellhersoinyourletters?”
“TellmehowImightvinceheraher?HowmightIpersuadethem?”
“Bybeingagoodperson,”Isaidandwalkedtothedoor.
“Atthisage,it’stoolate…”hesaidwithsincereanguish.
“You’vebeguntoearnalotofmoney,sOfficerHasan.Thismakesoneagoodperson…”Isaidandfled.
Thehousewassodarkandmelancholythattheairoutsideseemedwarmer.Thesunlighthitmyface.IwishedforShekure’shappiness.ButIalsofeltsomethingforthatpoormaninthatdamp,chillyanddarkhouse.Onawhim,IturotheSpiceMarketihinkingthesmellsofamon,saffronandpepperwouldrestoremyspirits.Iwasmistaken.
AtShekure’shouse,aftershetookuptheletters,sheimmediatelyaskedafterBlack.Itoldherthatthefireoflovehadmercilesslyengulfedhisentirebeing.Thisnewspleasedher.
“EvenlonelyspinstersbusywiththeirknittingarediscussingwhyElegantEffendimight’vebeenkilled,”Isaidlater,gingthesubject.
“Hayriye,makesomehalvaasapresentofdoleakeitovertoKalbiye,pantEffendi’swidow,”saidShekure.
“AlltheErzurumisandquiteacrowdofotherswillbeattendinghisfuneralservice,”Isaid.“Hisrelativesswearthey’llavengehisspiltblood.”
ShekurehadalreadybeguntoreadBlack’sletter.Ilookedintoherfatentlyandangrily.Thiswomanrobablysuchafoxthatshecouldtrolhowherpassionswerereflectedinherface.AsshereadIsehatmysilencepleasedher,thatsheregardeditasmyapprovalofthespecialimportshegavetoBlack’sletter.Shekurefiheletterandsmiledatme;tomeetwithhersatisfa,Ifeltforcedtoask,“Whathashewritten?”
“Justasinhischildhood…He’sihme.”
“Whatareyourthoughts?”
“I’mamarriedwoman.I’mwaitingformyhusband.”
trarytoyourexpectations,thefactthatshe’dlietomeafteraskiogetinvolvedinheraffairsdidn’tangerme.Actually,thisentrelievedme.IfmoreoftheyoungmaidensandwomenI’vecarriedlettersforandadvisedinthewaysoftheworldatteodetailsthewayShekuredid,theywould’velesseheworkforusbothbyhalf.Moreimportantly,theywould’veendedupiermarriages.
“Whatdoestheotheroe?”Iaskedanyway.
“Idon’tioreadHasaerrightnow,”sheanswered.“DoesHasanknowthatBlack’sreturoIstanbul?”
“Hedoesn’tevenknowheexists.”
“DoyouspeakwithHasan?”sheasked,openingwideherbeautifulblackeyes.
“Asyou’verequested.”
“Yes?”
“He’sinagony.He’sdeeplyihyou.Evenifyourheartbelongstoa’llbedifficultevertobefreeofhimnotinghislettersyou’vegreatlyencedhim.Bewaryofhim,however.Fornotonlydoeshewanttomakeyoureturnthere,butbyestablishingthathisolderbrotherhasdied,he’spreparingtomarryyou.”Ismiledtosoftentheweightofthesewordsandsoasnottobereducedtobeingthatmaltent’smouthpiece.
“What’stheotheronesay,then?”sheasked,butdidsheherselfknowwhomshewasinquiringafter?
“Theminiaturist?”
“Mymind’sallajumble,”shesaidsuddenly,perhapsafraidofherownthoughts.“Itseemsthatmatterswillbeeevenmorefused.Myfather’sgrowingolder.What’llbeeofus,ofthesefatherlesschildren?Isenseanevilapproag,thattheDevilispreparingsomemischiefforus.Esther,tellmesomethingthatwillheartenme.”
“Don’tyoufretintheslightest,mydearestShekure,”Isaidasemotionwelledupwithinme.“You’retrulyintelligent,you’reverybeautiful.Onedayyou’llsleepinthesamebedwithyourhandsomehusband,you’llcuddlewithhim,andhavingfottenallyourworries,you’llbehappy.Ireadthisinyoureyes.”
Suchafferosewithimyeyesfilledwithtears.
“Fiwhiewillbeyhusband?”
“Isn’tthatwiseheartofyivingyouananswer?”
“It’sbecauseIdon’tuandwhatmyheartissayingthatI’mdispirited.”
ForamomentitoccurredtomethatShekuredidn’ttrustmeatall,thatshewasmasterfullycealingherdistrustiolearnwhatIkhatshewastryingtoarousemypity.WhenIsawshewouldingarespohelettersatpresent,Igrabbedmysateredthecourtyardandslippedaway—butnotbeforesayingsomethingItoldallmymaids,eventhosewhowerecross-eyed:
“Fearnot,mydear,ifyoukeepthosebeautifuleyesofyourspeeled,nomisfortune,nomisfortuallwillbefallyou.”
I,SHEKUREIftruthbetold,itusedtobethateachtimeEsthertheclothierpaidavisit,I’dfantasizethatamanstriwithlovewouldfinallyberousedtowritealetterthatc松语文学www.16sy.coM免费小说阅读
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