The Stone Woman

by Tariq Ali

  I left Alexandria the next day on a boat bound for the East. I spent a year in Tokyo, which was so different from our world that it distracted me from the pain and grief I had left behind in Alexandria. The mind has a capacity to relegate unwanted baggage to its most secret recesses. I was never fully cured. Memories of those early days of happiness sometimes came flooding back and I fought hard to drive them away by recalling the ugliness of the last week or the cruel words that she had deployed to kill our love.

  My Uncle Kemal was also in that part of the world, expanding his fleet of merchant ships, opening new offices in Tokyo and Shanghai and seeking solace in the arms of his numerous mistresses. I had met one of them in Tokyo. He had decided that there should be no secrets between us and introduced me to her. She was beautiful and, on the surface, submissive in her exquisitely embroidered red silk kimono.

  She had prepared a meal for us and I was, frankly, horrified when she sat cross-legged with us on the floor, but did not touch her food till she had fed my Uncle Kemal. She did so with some delicacy. The fish never escaped from the little sticks as she dipped it in a tasty sauce and popped it into my uncle’s mouth. I could see why he spent so much time in the East. He had never been happy with his wife. How could such a good-looking man with a passion for finery and a strong sensuality have married a woman with no redeeming qualities? He could never understand why I was puzzled by his choice and would say, with a touch of irritation, “Do you think I would have agreed to the marriage if her dowry had not been able to finance my shipping company? I always loved boats and the sea. So I thought if I had to marry this midget and fertilise her with my sperm, I must make sure the means of escape was always nearby. There are times, Salman, when one is forced to sacrifice long-term happiness in favour of short-term gain. What is really annoying is that all my daughters have inherited their mother’s shape, size and stupidity. It will require three very generous dowries to have them removed from the house. I mean, can you imagine anyone, and I really mean anyone, falling in love with any of them? The pity is that I love Istanbul more than your other uncle and your father. Iskander loves Paris. Memed is besotted with Berlin. I have remained faithful to my Istanbul, but the beauty of the city has become associated in my mind with the never-ending ugliness that greets me at home. So I escape and, as you can see, I am happy here. I prefer Tokyo to Shanghai. Here I can submerge myself in the landscape. Shanghai is too noisy and too filthy. I never feel safe in its streets.”

  I was keen to visit China, Stone Woman, and for many reasons, but Uncle Kemal suggested I return to Istanbul. “They worry about you,” he said. “They imagine you are still in Egypt. I think you need them a little now. Solitude cannot help you any more. You can always come back to me later. You have always been like a son to me, but now we have also become friends and this is a rare pleasure at this stage of one’s life.”

  I followed his advice and returned to Istanbul. I was there when my father suffered a stroke and I rushed here with Halil. Remember Halil when he was little? Full of mischief. Who would have thought he would be a general?

  When I first came here I was gripped by a severe depression and unable to focus on anything, but the clouds have lifted at last, Stone Woman. My father and I have never been as close as we are now. I love Nilofer’s children and soon I will tell her my story so that she knows why I do not speak of “my children”. And as for General Halil Pasha, what can I say? He, of all people, has reawakened my youthful interest in politics and history. We are on the verge of big changes, Stone Woman. Everything could be different. The inertia that has always marked our lives could be swept away by a tidal wave of reform. It is in times like these that one realises that there are other joys in this world apart from those of love and union with the beloved.

  All will change, Stone Woman, and it will change soon, but I hope you will always remain to provide comfort for those who find it difficult to tolerate pain in silence.’

  FOURTEEN

  Nilofer is overcome by longing for Selim and decides to marry him; the Baron refuses to discuss Stendhal on love

  NEWS THAT ISKANDER PASHA’S speech had miraculously returned and he was speaking again without impediment had reached Istanbul. Letters and messages from friends and officials began to arrive here at an alarming rate. Some saw in his recovery the invisible but omnipresent goodness of Allah. Others felt it was a strong omen.

  The Grand Vizier himself despatched a special messenger with a letter congratulating Iskander Pasha on his recovery and inviting him, on behalf of the Sultan, to attend an audience at the palace as soon as he returned to the capital. The letter ended with the following sentence: “You will no doubt be amused to hear that the Austrians are running into serious trouble in Serbia. When I informed His Majesty, he smiled and remarked, ‘May Allah help those ungodly Serbs to drive the Emperor’s soldiers back to Vienna.’ I told him that you would appreciate this remark and he very graciously gave me permission to repeat it to you.”

  After we had all read the letter in turn, Salman rose to his feet and began to mimic the Vizier’s servility with exaggerated and slightly vulgar gestures, common to sycophants the world over, while all the time he kept repeating the last sentence over and over again. Everyone present began to laugh, with the exception of poor Zeynep. Her husband worked at the palace as a secretary and was, everyone supposed, loyal to his masters. Even if he had been secretly disgusted with what was taking place he had not informed his wife. Zeynep had been growing more and more alarmed by the goings-on in this house. I think that is why she decided to leave immediately for Istanbul—or it may have been that she was missing her children and felt that since Iskander Pasha had recovered fully, there was no need for her to remain here any longer.

  She left the next day after an emotional farewell. She hugged Halil with extra warmth, whispering words of warning in his ear and advising caution in whatever he had undertaken. Out of all of us Zeynep was the easiest to please. She was happy with her husband, whom we all regarded as dull beyond endurance and whose premature baldness was a source of great amusement to my father. She was happy with her children and her home and she was even tolerant of her mother-in-law, regarded widely as one of the most poisonous women in Istanbul. Her malicious lies were so well known that her name had become a byword for mendacity in the bazaar. Shopkeepers hated her because she continued to haggle long after they had reached their lowest price. Even my brother Halil, the mildest of men, was heard to remark that he would contribute generously to make up a heavy purse in order to hire a few bandits to kidnap and lose her in Albania. To his horror and my father’s delight news of this remark, too, spread in the city and Halil received three letters from the richest shopkeepers offering to pay any amount of money if he would take on the responsibility of organising the actual abduction. Zeynep knew all this, but preferred to maintain a discreet and slightly sad silence. She knew that if she had joined us, life at home would become unbearable. She had to face this woman every single day.

  I was preoccupied with my own problems. While the children were beginning to recover from the shock of their father’s death, helped by the love of my mother, Halil and, even more, my lovely brother Salman, I had become very deeply involved with Selim. I had never known anything like this before and there were times when I was frightened by the intensity of the relationship. Frightened not by him, but myself and how dependent on him I had become. I longed for his presence. I yearned for his passion. There were days when we could not meet and I would think of him all the time. Sometimes, to reassure myself that I was in control of the situation, I would neglect him quite callously and we would squabble. He would get very upset and the anguish lengthened his face. It may sound cruel on my part, but sometimes I preferred to see him sad rather than happy. It was the only way I could assert my power over him. He could never understand that my behaviour was intended to test myself and not him. Was I really in love with him or was it simply his sensual presence? I was sure his love for me was
real, even though I had no idea where it would lead us and how it would end. I had never swum in such a sea of love before and I was frightened that I might drown.

  The children alone were capable of distracting my attention. They had to be loved, looked after and settled in bed every night. At these moments nothing else mattered to me. Orhan and Emineh were the two most important things in my life. But the minute I left their presence, Selim would instantly enter my head and I would be overpowered by longing.

  He had already been here for three weeks and Hasan Baba had begun to grumble and moan and had berated him for leaving his shop in Istanbul untended. Selim would argue that the children were freshly orphaned and Orhan, in particular, needed his company. This was true. Orhan had become very attached to Selim and the two of them would go for a long walk every day, while my mother and her maids fussed over Emineh, doing and redoing her hair in several different styles and showing her the mirror to get her approval. But Hasan Baba was not convinced and threatened to request Iskander Pasha to instruct Selim to return to Istanbul.

  He had told me all this a few nights ago. He had never felt any fear at the prospect of being discovered. It did not bother him at all. He would laugh at the thought and tell me that if ever we were caught in flagrante, there would be no choice for me but to marry him. I was not yet convinced that this was the best solution. Orhan and Emineh might react badly. My mother might withhold her permission. The romance of elopement begins to fade when there are children involved.

  What could I do in this situation? I knew from my own experience with the unfortunate Dmitri as well as the experiences of a number of my women friends that, often, grand passion burns itself away and the couple who mistook it for a deep and lasting love realise one day that they have nothing to say and do after they have briefly enjoyed each other’s bodies. The discovery discomfits them because they had always believed their love to be unique and special. They were not like other people. When they finally admit that there is nothing left, they run away from each other and the place where the love originated, as rapidly as the coachmen can drive them. All the letters written late at night but never posted are now hurriedly destroyed. If, some years later, they run into each other by accident at a wedding or funeral or in a shop buying presents for their children or lover, the only emotion they feel is one of embarrassment.

  I say all these things to convince myself that this time I must not rush into anything and yet I know that it was never like this with Dmitri and that if I push Selim aside, I might be punishing myself rather than him. I doubt whether I could feel such a love for anyone again. There are times when I am bewildered by the calm he exhibits in the present situation. There are other questions which for him are more important than our love and, in a curious way, I find that reassuring.

  The last time we made love, he stayed in bed afterwards discussing the dangers of a military uprising against the Sultan unless the ordinary people were aroused to defend their own interests. I did not know what he meant. The bewildered look on my face silenced him. He held me very tenderly in his arms and explained. “Nilofer, there are rich and poor in this world. The poor are many and the rich are few. Their interests have never coincided. Both rich and poor need to get rid of the Sultan, but what will happen after they succeed? Will we find another Sultan whom we will call a President, but who will wear a uniform? Or will we found a party as they have in Germany and France which fights for the poor?”

  I had never thought of these matters before and I found them dull, but for him they were the subterranean dynamos that charged every fibre of his body.

  For over an hour, I had been sitting outside on the terrace watching the changing colours of the sky, while my mind was whirling with ideas and possibilities. When Zeynep left that morning it had just begun to rain. Even now, though the sky remained cloudy, the tiny strip of blue that had marked the horizon since the morning had been growing by the hour. I had observed it at various intervals throughout the day. The clouds had now begun to disperse in strange shapes and the setting sun at the edge of the sea was painting them different shades of pink, red and purple. The effect was sensational, and suddenly this raw natural beauty made me want to share my life with Selim. The thought grew stronger and stronger, till I went in search of Salman. I found him strolling in the lower section of the garden, where steps lead to the sea. He, too, had been admiring the sunset. I did not pause for reflection. I told him the story of my love as we walked up and down the terraced garden. He did not interrupt me, not even once, but waited till I had finished telling everything, which I did, including the fact that Selim often entered the house in search of my bedroom and my body.

  Salman smiled as he embraced my shoulders. “I think it is dangerous to continue in this fashion any longer. I will talk to Halil to see if our young friend can be recruited into the army as an officer this week. Then I shall talk to Father on your behalf and you must tell your mother at the same time. I think that through such a combined operation we could achieve instant success. But tell me something, my little one. Are you very sure this time?”

  I nodded. “When we were first together it was as if a stroke of lightning had passed through our bodies at the same time.”

  He laughed. “I know something about this lightning. You must never let it burn you. Never forget that its effects are not always permanent. Lightning comes differently at different times. You can be unstruck by it as well.”

  “I know that,” I replied. “But with us it becomes more and more intense every day. It is not simply the passion, Salman. We are close in so many different ways and he is genuinely fond of Orhan. There is a natural affinity between us. Is that not truly rare?”

  “Yes, it is, but how can there be a natural affinity when you had no idea as to the identity of Auguste Comte?” he teased. “You might have to change your reading habits.”

  And then my brother told me his story. When he had finished he saw the tears pouring down my cheeks and he embraced me.

  “I stopped weeping a long time ago, Nilofer. You mustn’t start now. Life is full of pain and suffering, but there is always a way out. Always. Once you stop thinking that, you are doomed. I was on the edge of self-destruction. Everything appeared out of focus and I could no longer see the sharp outlines of my future. It was Hamid Bey and my Uncle Kemal who saved my life. I can never repay them for such a favour. Now I am at peace with myself and waiting impatiently for our world to change.”

  “Do you never think of her?”

  “No.”

  “That frightens me, Salman. How could it all have gone away when you once loved her so much? If love is so ephemeral and transient, what hope is there for us?”

  “It did not go away of its own accord. She plunged a dagger through my heart. The love simply bled away. The wounds remained for a long time, but they have healed now. When I think of that episode in my life I feel angry with myself, not her. It was I who misjudged her. You know, I have this strange instinct that she would have done this even if the children had been mine. There was a streak of pure masochism in her. I do not wish her any harm, let alone those poor children. The only person I miss in Alexandria is Hamid Bey. He is such a warm human being and I hope he has found true peace at last. Why is there so much unhappiness in our lives?”

  When one is feeling happy it is not possible to answer such questions and I moved the conversation in another direction.

  “Salman, there is something else I have to ask you.”

  He looked at me and smiled. “Today has been declared the day when family secrecy was abolished. Ask and you shall hear the truth.”

  “Did you know my mother Sara’s story?”

  A worried frown appeared on his forehead. “I know your mother Hatije’s story.”

  “It is the same story.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Why?”

  “Sara loved another man who abandoned her. Hatije is your mother and my father’s wife.”

  “You
are wrong, Salman. Sara is my mother and Hatije is your father’s wife.”

  “We heard all that years ago, but Father loved you so much as a child that it killed the gossip instantly. A maid in the employ of Halil’s mother was dismissed for spreading vile rumours. If Iskander Pasha had been unhappy, this household would have talked of you and your real father without pause and your mother’s life would have been a misery. That never happened. Instead we were lucky to have a beautiful child in the house and one who looked so different. What we all loved about you as a child was your strong character. I sometimes wish Zeynep was a bit more like you. That girl has learnt to suffer in silence, which is never good for anyone. Enough family talk for one day. I will go and find our General to discuss your future. You should take yourself immediately to the library and study some Comte. It can only enhance your happiness!”

  We were laughing as we walked towards the house. It had suddenly become dark, but the clouds had disappeared and stars were beginning to fill the evening sky. Outside the door, we paused for a moment to gaze at them.

  Salman sighed. “One memory will always stay with me. When I was fleeing Alexandria and heading for Japan, our boat reached the line of the Equator. It was a warm night, but it was very late and all of us were in our cabins. The captain had seen the sight many times, but there must have been some poetry in his soul. He weighed anchor and ordered us on deck. Never in my life have I seen the sky as it was that night. It was truly as if we were on the edge of the world. The sky was like a sea of stars and they were rolling past us at an incredible speed. I knew then that I was going to recover. Compared to the universe our emotions are as nothing.”