“Now, before we’re tempted to give an answer to such a question, we should bear this equation in mind: one divided by infinity (1/). I’ll take that up in a minute. But first, tell me, do you hear the song the roses are singing right now?”
“You know perfectly well that I can’t hear any such thing.”
“Which song are they singing, Diana?”
“I told you, I don’t hear anything.”
“Come on, just make a guess. Perhaps you’ll hit on the right one.”
Realizing that Zeynep Hanim wasn’t going to let it go, Diana said, “All right, fine. They’re singing ‘Purple Rain.’”
“Do you think you guessed the right answer?”
“Of course not.”
“I’ll give you one more chance. Take another shot.”
“Fine. ‘Ya Rayah’ by Rachid Taha?”
“Do you think you have it right this time?”
“Of course not. May I ask what you’re getting at?”
“Now, let’s test your knowledge of statistics a little. So, tell me, what are the chances of you ever guessing the right song?”
“Next to nothing.”
“Exactly. Dividing the number of songs being sung by the number of possible answers gives us the probability of arriving at the correct song by means of guessing. The number of songs being sung is one. If you think of the songs which have been written all over the world for thousands of years, in hundreds of languages, by millions of songwriters, the number of possibilities can be counted in the trillions. And if we add to that number the songs which haven’t yet been written but which are known to the roses, then we can say that we have an infinite number of possible answers. In that case, the probability of arriving at the correct song is the number one divided by infinity. And that’s the equation we have to know before we can learn how to hear roses. So, what’s one divided by infinity?”
“Zero, as far as I remember.”
“Right, but if it were the usual zero, this would mean there was absolutely no chance that anyone could know which song the roses were singing. So, one over infinity equals a special zero.”
“Special zero?”
“I’m sure your knowledge of mathematics is greater than mine, Diana. But I’d still like to briefly go over the mathematical value of this equation with you.
“Let’s take any equation, one over some number . . . As the number by which one is divided increases, the number of zeros preceding one also increases in the answer to the equation. If we divide one by infinity, in the answer there will be an infinite number of zeros in front of one. So, the answer would read as zero point zero zero zero, all the way to infinity. But even if we don’t see it, there’s always a one remaining at the far end of the answer. It’s zero, yet a special zero that ends with a one, even if it’s concealed in infinity.
“Now, this is very important. While the equation tells us that the probability of knowing the correct song by means of guessing is zero, it hints that it’s not impossible to arrive at the correct answer, because there’s a one at the end.
“When I asked you what song the roses were singing, you responded in the best way by saying you didn’t know. Why? Because you knew that you couldn’t know. You were able to see that, by means of guessing, it would be pointless to try to answer a question which has innumerable possible answers and which can’t be answered by using the five senses.
“So the Real Song can’t be arrived at by the mere guesses of the intellect, but only by way of witnessing. First, we have to understand that we hear roses not with our ears but with our hearts.
“At birth, everyone’s heart has this ability. But hearts grow deaf as time goes by. Those who wish to witness roses singing must first regain this ability, which we lose when we are being taught to become a grown-up. And the only way to regain this is by maintaining a constant interest in the roses and caring for them.
“Perhaps we may not hear the roses on our first visits to the garden. But we must never lose hope. First and foremost, a lack of certitude, along with any other negative thoughts or feelings, are our enemies in the garden.
“Imagine a mountain . . . From the top of this mountain, the view is wonderful. You want to be there, but the summit seems so far away that you lose hope of reaching it. You give up, saying, ‘I’ll never get there.’
“The truth is, the footsteps of those who reached the top were no bigger than yours. But they’d just gone on putting those small footsteps one after the other. It’s not miracles that make the impossible happen, it’s perseverance. This is how water wears away rocks, and this is how people of the twenty-first century hear roses sing.
“If we believe we’re capable of hearing them, and if we persevere, then sooner or later we will. It is possible because there’s always a one hidden at the end of the zeros. And if we follow the path of nothingness till infinity, we’ll definitely reach that One.”
“What if the roses don’t talk at all?” Diana said. “Or they don’t sing any songs? Let me tell you the probability of that. If the number of songs the roses sing is zero, the equation becomes zero divided by infinity, and that is equal to zero. And this time, it isn’t a special zero but a simple fat zero. Which means there’s no song and no possibility of hearing roses.”
“True,” Zeynep Hanim said. “Two paths. One begins and ends here and now, the other stretches out into infinity. In answering the question, ‘Do roses sing?’ or ‘Can I hear roses?’ we choose one of these two paths. These questions have only two possible answers: ‘Yes’ or ‘No.’ There isn’t a third answer. For those who say ‘Yes,’ the solution to the equation is the special zero; whereas for those who say ‘No,’ it’s—as you said—a simple fat zero. That’s why there’s no possibility for those who say ‘No’ to ever hear roses sing. This isn’t what they’re aiming for anyway. For them, it’s enough that they hear the sound frequencies picked up by the ear. Any sound beyond that is of no interest to them.”
“But who’s to decide which answer is right?” Diana asked.
“It doesn’t matter which answer is right, Diana. What’s important is what you yourself believe in. Ask yourself; say, ‘Which do I believe in?’ It’s as easy as that. If your answer is ‘I can’t hear roses,’ well, that’s okay. Nobody can blame you for that. There have to be those who don’t believe in order for there to be those who do believe. Day exists because there’s night, and night exists because there’s day. Instead of asking, ‘Which one is more beautiful, day or night?’ ask yourself which one you live in. Ask yourself, ‘Do I believe I can hear roses?’
“But you must ask yourself this question. Because if you’re sure the answer is ‘No,’ then you don’t ever need to enter the garden. You’ll be spared from the difficulties, disappointments and failures you’ll face there. To begin with, you won’t have to listen to me. You’ll not have to spend days, months, maybe years, waiting in front of a rose, hoping to hear it speak. Everything will be much easier, much more comfortable. For example, instead of getting up early to come to the garden, you can stay in bed sleeping for as long as you wish. What do you think, wouldn’t that be much more enjoyable?”
Zeynep Hanim paused for a second before she added, “Actually, that would depend on whether you believe you can hear roses or not. Just imagine, for someone who believes that roses can be heard, which would be more enjoyable: sleeping, or awakening with the hope of hearing the roses sing?
“So, Diana, are you one of those who say, ‘Yes, I can hear roses’?”
Zeynep Hanim waited some time for Diana’s answer, which never came.
“I knew it,” Zeynep Hanim said. “The answer you gave is the reason why you’re here.”
“But I didn’t give an answer.”
“I heard the answer I needed to hear. Sometimes silence is more convincing than a hundred spoken promises.�
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Diana remained silent.
“However, believing that roses sing isn’t sufficient to know the song they are singing. There are only two ways of knowing what the actual song is. Either you hear it yourself or learn it from someone who does.
“It’s much better to hear it yourself, though. Roses have a divine voice. They draw you out of yourself, take you to their world and bring you back permeated with rose scent. This scent then no longer originates from the roses but from within yourself; because you have finally come to realize what it means to be responsible for your rose.”
“Wait a minute,” Diana said. “That’s just the phrase Mary used in the farewell letter to her father. She wrote that she was leaving home because she’d finally understood what it meant to be responsible for a rose. She must have been thinking of coming to you when she wrote that letter. That’s why she must have left home.”
“I don’t think so,” Zeynep Hanim said. “Mary would know that she didn’t need to leave home, even for the sake of the rose garden.”
For a moment, Diana sat lost in thought. Then she said, “In her letters, Mary described you as ‘Someone Who Knows.’ There’s something I want to know, Zeynep Hanim. It’s something beyond the scope of the five senses, but it has nothing to do with roses.”
“It’s about your mother, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“Mary wanted to know the same thing. Do as Mary did. While she was here, she prayed to God to give her news of her mother. Even if no one else does, God knows what happened to your mother. Ask and He will answer. Even if you don’t hear God, He hears you.”
Diana looked unconvinced.
“God doesn’t leave us unanswered, Diana, especially not someone who’s sincerely and wholeheartedly waiting for news of her mother. God’s greatness will not allow those He has created to remain uninformed of themselves or of God Himself. Some people believe God is too great and too exalted to involve Himself in our daily lives. On the contrary, it’s because He is so great and exalted that He is involved in even the least of our affairs.”
Zeynep Hanim’s eyes shone. “He does concern Himself with us, Diana, He does. And in the best way. He takes an interest in Diana, in Mary, in Zeynep. In each of us, personally and individually. He is always with us, but to realize this, we, too, have to be with Him. Mary felt God was always taking care of her, that’s why she asked Him about her mother.”
“I also asked,” Diana said. “I prayed to God so many times for news of my mother. I pleaded with Him, but I never received a reply. I’m sorry, but God does leave us unanswered.”
“No, He doesn’t. But He may send the answers in unexpected ways. Sometimes through a dream, sometimes a rose, perhaps a mother or even a beggar.”
“A beggar!”
“Did I say something wrong, my dear?”
Diana didn’t know what to say. She wanted to believe that what Zeynep Hanim had said was only a coincidence. Trying to hide her astonishment, she gestured that Zeynep Hanim should continue.
“Just like you, Diana, Mary hasn’t heard any news of her mother yet. But she certainly will. And not the news that she lost her mother but the news that she’ll never lose her.”
“And how will that happen?” Diana asked, her voice breaking.
“If God so wishes, anything can happen. If God so wills, just to send Mary news of her mother, sixty-seven years ago, a man and a woman fall in love. They get married, and two years later, a daughter is born to them. Even though the doctor says this premature infant can’t live, the baby survives and flourishes. Many years later, as a grown woman, in the course of one of her journeys to far-off countries, she meets an old gardener. This gardener tells her that he can teach her how to hear roses. She believes him, and for the next twenty years she dedicates herself to the art of hearing roses. During this time, she goes through many difficulties. Solely on account of this ‘madness’ of hers, her husband leaves her, she is rejected by the people around her and is left with no choice but to move away from her hometown, finally coming to Istanbul. Here, she buys a house with a garden and spends all her time with her roses. Within a short while, the seeds sown in her heart by the old gardener put forth shoots, and finally she is able to hear roses.
“Do you know why all these events and the many others going on around them occur, Diana? Perhaps simply because God wishes to make Mary hear her mother’s voice through a rose. It’s for this reason a Zeynep is born, a garden is created and a rose blooms . . .”
Although Diana thought Zeynep Hanim was speaking eloquently, since what she said was all based on the assumption that Mary could hear her mother’s voice, Zeynep Hanim’s words fell short of consoling her.
“Very well,” Zeynep Hanim said. “That will do both for mathematics and as an introduction. I’ve talked myself hoarse; let’s have a break, and we’ll meet back here in thirty-three minutes, okay?”
“All right,” Diana said. “But first, I have a question: What song were the roses singing?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Zeynep Hanim said. “If I did, you wouldn’t strive to hear them yourself.”
29
WHEN THEY RETURNED to their stools, Zeynep Hanim said, “Now, Diana, I’d like you to go to that fountain over there, wash your head thoroughly and then come back here.”
“But I washed my hair just this morning.”
“I can see that, dear. Now please go and wash your head.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Diana walked across to the fountain. The water was ice-cold and she couldn’t avoid splashing her clothes. As she shivered in the cool morning air, she felt glad she hadn’t come there in winter. After wringing the water out of her hair and combing it through with her fingers, she returned to her stool like an obedient schoolgirl.
“Now, Diana, I’d like you to go to that fountain over there, wash your head thoroughly and then come back here.”
For a minute Diana felt as though she were experiencing déjà vu. It wasn’t just the words that had been repeated, but the expression on Zeynep Hanim’s face was also the same as before. Diana sat glued to her seat for a minute without saying a word.
Unable to resist the stern look in Zeynep Hanim’s eyes, she went back to the fountain and washed her head again. As she headed back to her stool, she feared the possibility that Zeynep Hanim might again ask her to do the same thing.
“There you go,” Zeynep Hanim said. “Now that’s done, we can begin. Oh, before I forget, if this lesson goes well, I have a surprise for you in the next one.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“Didn’t I say it was a surprise?”
“I see . . . By the way, am I allowed to ask questions in the garden?”
“Of course you are. Only, I should tell you that you don’t need to understand the reason behind everything we do in the garden to achieve your goal. If you don’t forget what you experience here, sooner or later, all your questions will be answered.
“During our time in the garden, you’re both the student and the teacher. You already have all the answers. As I said earlier, at one time you even had the ability to hear roses. I’m just here to remind you of the things you’ve forgotten, that’s all. Hearing roses is easy. Very easy. All you have to do is either recall what you’ve forgotten, or forget all you’ve been taught.”
“But I still want to know why my hair had to be wet!”
“Every question in the garden is like a seed, Diana. In time, it grows roots, stems and buds, and finally blossoms. I can assure you, you’ll never forget for the rest of your life that one cool morning you had to wash your already clean hair twice. Once something is lived it can never be like it was not lived. And the experience of having lived it will sooner or later give you the answer you’ve been looking for. But this time, let me answer your question for
you: I wanted you to wash your head because that head belonged to Diana.”
“But I am Diana!”
“Didn’t we agree to wipe out the résumé?”
“Well, why did I have to wash it the second time, then?”
“After the first time, you were freed of Diana’s hairstyle. But the mind that gave your hair that shape was still there.”
“Oh, so by washing it the second time, I stopped thinking like Diana, is that it?” she asked with a skeptical smile. “I don’t mean to judge, but all this sounds too formalistic.”
“You’re right; you can’t cleanse the mind with water from a fountain. But it’s a symbol. Silent at the moment, but if you don’t disregard it, one day it’ll speak to you. A print placed in your heart. It may not be apparent now, but when the right time comes, it’ll be manifest.”
“When is the right time?”
“Perhaps the day you finally realize that the things you know can no longer help you. Or perhaps when you realize that awareness is like a ladder and in order to climb higher, you shouldn’t retread the steps you’ve left behind.”
Diana, anxious to see the garden, refrained from asking any more questions.
30
IN SPITE OF bending her head, Diana still hit it on the lintel of the door. But at least there really was a garden on the other side.
A thin mist, pearly pink in the early morning light, covered everything, giving the garden an air of mystery, yet the mist was still unable to conceal the garden’s rainbow colors. A narrow path of hexagonal tiles wound its way among the roses. The light breeze made the roses sway in harmony with the nightingales flying above. Only the sound of the birds and the gentle murmur of the water in the marble pool broke the silence.
Diana stood for a moment with her eyes half shut, inhaling the perfume in the air. With each breath, she felt as if she was being drawn closer to some heavenly place. But she returned to reality as Zeynep Hanim took off her shoes and started to rub her bare feet in the earth.
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