The soul that is at the end of its rope plans to see you. Shall it hold out or shall it let go. What is your command?
Râkım paraphrased this couplet as: “I melted with the sorrow of your love. I have no hope left for what remains of my life. Now my sweet life has risen to my lips and longs to see you. Should it spring forth and leave or should it return to its place, what is your command?”
The girls responded to this couplet with such enthusiasm that they almost erased the previous one from their notebooks. Yet, the next couplet amazed them even more, and they recorded it with complete astonishment. Here it is with its translation:
Keep your skirt far from the dust and blood when you pass by us.
For there are many slain in this path, sacrificed to you?
“The beauty of your face, the intensity of your perfection created disarray in this world. Everyone considers themselves blessed to be your sacrifice. To see the lovers’ condition, as you walk through our neighborhood, lift your skirt to keep it from the blood, soil, or rather from this dreadful mud kneaded with blood, for there have been many to shed their blood and to sacrifice themselves for you, your victims.”
They didn’t select any other couplets from this poem. They also didn’t choose any couplets from the poems starting with, “Saqi, brighten our chalice with the light of wine,” “Sufi, come, for the chalice is poor mirror,” and “Saqi! Arise and fill up the chalice.” They found that the poem starting with “I’m losing the handle of my heart, you who have a heart, for God’s sake (help)!” was incomprehensible, and although they found a couple of noteworthy poetic descriptions in the poem, “The garden again has the splendor of youth,” they decided not to copy them down as they didn’t enjoy them as much as the others. When they read the poem starting with, “If that Shirazi Turk would satisfy my heart,” they found the following couplet very rich and colorful:
You spoke ill of me, and I am content. God forgive you, you spoke well!
A bitter answer befits ruby sugar-shedding lips.
Râkım paraphrased this couplet elegantly as follows: “The disarray caused by my passionate desire for you rendered me unconscious and stole my sanity. As a result, I commit thousands of impertinences with everything I say and do. Finally, you resented the disarray of my language and spurned me disdainfully. You scolded me. A scolding I enjoyed. Would such bitter words suit those ruby-lips, that sugar-eating and sugar-spilling mouth? Surely, any word tastes sweet, coming out of that rose-mouth.”
Afterwards, they read the poems starting with “Morning breeze, gently tell that lissome gazelle,” and “Last night from the mosque our master came to the wine tavern,” but couldn’t find anything worth recording in them. The poems starting with “To the retainers of the sultan who will convey this salutation” and “Where is the right thing to do and where am I in my ruined state” were received similarly. Only this following couplet from the poem “We’ve gone, you and our sorrowing heart know (why)” was selected:
If all the horizons gather around your head.
It is not possible that desire for you be driven from my head.
Râkım paraphrased this daring couplet audaciously as follows: “What were you thinking, for God’s sake? Did you think that I am a coward who would give up on your love just because I became the target of public insults and disapproval? I swear on your life that even if everybody were to rise against me and slay my head with a sword, they couldn’t sever my passionate desire for you. Should they spill my blood, the vapor emanating from it will be the vapor of my desire and love for you.”
That evening, the girls recorded these five couplets as if they were treasures and spent the next couple of days constantly reciting them. Even though Râkım took the greatest pleasure from the way the girls read the Persian poems with their English accents, he also wanted to have them read the couplets eloquently; so after giving them a couplet, he’d spend five to ten days correcting their reading and pronunciation. In the end, the way these girls read the couplets in Persian was so beautiful as to make a human soul quiver.
Do you remember how last winter Mr. Ziklas asked Râkım to show them an example of an alaturka meal? You might have forgotten about it but Mr. Ziklas hadn’t. He reminded Râkım of his old promise.
RKIM: It would be my pleasure, Sir! But there is a slight hitch.
MR. ZIKLAS: What is it?
RKIM: Since we’re Muslims, our women hide away from men.
MR. ZIKLAS: Oh, I know! Although I assume you’re not married.
RKIM: I’m not, but there are women in my house. What I’m trying to say is women aren’t supposed to be present at an alaturka meal. Yet, if this meal will only be for your wife, Mrs. Ziklas, and the girls, they can participate in an alaturka meal in its entirety.
MR. ZIKLAS: I wanted this meal to be for them after all. Let them see it, and they will tell me about it afterwards.
RKIM: But there’s another way to go about it according to alaturka culture.
MR. ZIKLAS: What is it?
RKIM: It’s having an alaturka family meal where women and men dine together.
MR. ZIKLAS: Much better my friend, much better!
RKIM: However, in that case, you yourself can’t see the women. You can only see a black Arab arm extending a shallow frying pan through the door.
MR. ZIKLAS: You mean my family will hide away from me?
RKIM: Not from you, from me!
MR. ZIKLAS: Oh, I see. That is the alaturka way. If we can modify that part, then let’s proceed.
RKIM: In that case it won’t be entirely alaturka.
MR. ZIKLAS: Oh, for God’s sake, then make it entirely alaturka so that I can see what this is all about.
RKIM: Very well.
With that, they decided to arrange the meal for the coming Friday. When Râkım arrived at his house and told his nanny about this arrangement, poor Fedayi was surprised but gladly took on the added responsibility for Râkım Efendi’s sake. Better still, there wouldn’t be any evening revelry at this meal as the guests were coming for brunch.
How many days were there until Friday anyway? No matter how many days there were, they all passed and Friday arrived. Seeing that everything was ready and in order at his house, Râkım started the day early and headed out to the Ziklas household in Beyoğlu.
“Hey, shall we get going?” “Yes, let’s go.” As these words were exchanged, two carriages were being prepared. Mr. Ziklas and his eldest daughter got on the first one, and Mrs. Ziklas, their youngest daughter, and Râkım got on the other. They used the Azapkapısı, Galata, and Tophane route to get to Salıpazarı. Upon entering his house, Râkım exclaimed, “There shall be no one,” and explained what this exclamation meant and why it was used. First, he showed Mr. Ziklas into the living room. After Mr. Ziklas observed the living room and complimented Râkım on his good taste, Râkım hid him away in Janan’s room, which was more spacious as Janan’s bed had been removed. Râkım left Mr. Ziklas there saying, “Now you are captive in here.” Then, he received the mother and their daughters in the living room.
MRS. ZIKLAS: Where did Mr. Ziklas go?
RKIM: Miss, you are now forbidden from being together with him.
MRS. ZIKLAS: Oh come on now, really?
RKIM: Didn’t you want the alaturka way?
When Janan appeared in front of the guests, Râkım had to introduce her to them; however, he couldn’t make something up and say, “She is my sister,” and he couldn’t express himself thoroughly by giving only her name “Janan,” so he was finally obliged to introduce her by saying, “She’s my slave.” He immediately went into the other room and sat with Monsieur Ziklas. In the living room, Mrs. Ziklas and the girls were astonished at Janan. They assumed that a slave would be tied up in a stable like an animal the way they are in America, so they couldn’t comprehend what kind of a slave she was. On top of this, when Janan asked after their health in impeccable French, they were astonished, but pleased that this would help clarify the situat
ion.
You know how the English are! When they are curious about something, they don’t hold back from asking about it in great detail. For this reason they didn’t only ask about when and why Janan became a slave but also about what her price had been. After Janan said, “My master bought me for a hundred liras,” they were completely bewildered. When they noticed that she was wearing three to five hundred liras worth of diamonds, they were even more surprised and asked each other in English, “My dear, how could they sell such a beautiful girl for a hundred liras?” Finally, they also asked, “Do these diamonds belong to you?” Surprised and a bit embarrassed at the guests’ overt and relentless questioning, Janan answered them saying that her master had given them to her as a gift.
Mrs. Ziklas liked Janan and admired the little girl’s manners. Yes, even the girls appreciated her politeness and nice manners. Why? Who knows? They would converse by whispering into each other’s ears, “Giving a slave that was bought for a hundred liras, five or six hundred liras worth of diamonds as a gift . . . How does that work?”
Meanwhile, in the other room, Râkım was describing to Mr. Ziklas the methods and rituals of an alaturka meal. Mr. Ziklas couldn’t agree to being separated from his wife and children for another hour or two, so he reminded Râkım of his wish to mix some alafranga into this alaturka style and have his wife and children beside him.
Râkım informed Mrs. Ziklas and her daughters about this wish, which they all approved, and they joined Mr. Ziklas. They were amazed at everything they saw in Râkım’s home. They even informed Mr. Ziklas about Janan. Margaret told him, “Father! So here they can buy a girl more beautiful than me for a hundred liras.” When her father also expressed his amazement, Râkım said, “No Sir! She was worth a hundred liras at the time she was bought. Now, she would be worth somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 liras.” Even this surprised Mr. Ziklas, who said, “How strange! So there is a price even for people? How wonderful! If I sold my wife and daughters for 2,000 liras each, that would make 6,000 liras. Not bad, eh?”
RKIM: By all means! You should definitely do that! Now that the ladies have learned Turkish, they would make wonderful Turkish and Ottoman wives.
MARGARET: Would that be so terrible?
JAN: If I weren’t going to be imprisoned in the house, I’d consent to being a Turkish wife.
RKIM: Janan, who isn’t even a Turkish wife, but just a slave, isn’t imprisoned in the house. She goes wherever she wants.
MARGARET: And father, the girl has a couple thousand shillings worth of diamonds on her.
RKIM: Do you see it now? How wonderful. You’d also have diamonds worth a couple thousand liras.
MR. ZIKLAS: But Râkım Efendi . . . you describe slavery in such a way that soon I’ll want to be sold as a slave myself . . .
After this conversation, they had a good laugh together. As the girls were curious to see Janan one more time, they took leave from their father and went to sit next to her in the living room. Janan showed them the garden. She showed them everything: her flowers, pigeons, birds, two beautiful chickens, one rooster, and a lamb. The girls liked these animals very much and regretted that although they were wealthy, they didn’t possess such pleasant things. Afterwards, they went into Râkım’s personal room. When they saw the library, they started poking around his books. They opened every single book and looked over a couple of words in each. Janan wasn’t terribly surprised when she saw them reading Turkish for she knew from her master that they could. The girls even looked at his collection of treasured items. Later, they started looking around the drafts of the novel that Râkım was in the process of writing; however, they couldn’t read his handwriting, as it was hastily written, thus a bit illegible. Finally, they all sat down on the floor and started talking:
MARGARET: Aren’t there any other rooms in this house?
JANAN: There is another room that way, where our nanny sleeps.
JAN: What nanny?
JANAN: She is an Arab that raised my master.
MARGARET: An Arab? Where is she now?
JANAN: She is getting things ready downstairs.
MARGARET: Is this Râkım Efendi’s room?
JANAN: Yes.
JAN: Then where do you sleep?
JANAN: My room is the one where your father is sitting now.
MARGARET: No, no . . . that’s not a bedroom. There are no beds in there!
JANAN: We removed it because you were coming.
JAN: No, that’s not right.
JANAN: Why shouldn’t it be right?
JAN: You are Râkım Efendi’s wife.
JANAN (blushing like a beet): No, Mademoiselle! I am his slave.
MARGARET: No, no, it’s not like that either. You are his “concubine”; what do they call it here . . . ah, odalisque. I know all about it, all of the Ottomans have odalisques.
JANAN (even more embarrassed): No, no! Our master doesn’t do such things.
JAN: Or, does he not like you? But if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have given you that many diamonds. You are hiding something.
JANAN (feeling quite bothered by their boldness): He likes me, but not like an odalisque, he likes me like a sister.
MARGARET: Oh, please! Is it even possible to like one like a sister? You can hide it all you want. Congratulations. Râkım Efendi is very handsome, very smart, and very mature!
At this point in their conversation both of the English girls’ attitudes changed. If you looked attentively at their faces, you’d see countless symptoms of jealousy. In fact, even if they themselves weren’t aware of it, Janan understood it very well but couldn’t make sense of why the girls took issue with her. She, too, expressed a certain hostility toward them.
Janan left the room to take care of some things. This time, the girls started talking among themselves.
JAN: You’re right Margaret. This girl is Râkım Efendi’s odalisque.
MARGARET: Isn’t that obvious? Didn’t you see how she blushed?
JAN: Yet, she is a beautiful girl, isn’t she?
MARGARET: Oh, what is beautiful about her?
JAN: Oh, come on, she is beautiful; however . . .
MARGARET: However, what?
JAN: I’m trying to say she doesn’t deserve Râkım Efendi.
MARGARET: If you think she is beautiful, then why do you say she doesn’t deserve him?
JAN: She deserves him for her beauty; however, she is still a slave! Where is the harm in that, though? Let her be a slave. She is a slave; yet, do you see how happy she is? She has become Râkım Efendi’s odalisque. She is beautiful, and Râkım Efendi is beautiful. Both beautiful and mature.
MARGARET: It seems like you are also jealous.
JAN: Why would I be jealous?
MARGARET: My, this is just like a dream! I’d want to be a slave like this. If I were Râkım Efendi’s odalisque, I would have him read Persian poems to me night and day.
JAN: Let’s see if he shows us the same regard that he shows this poor slave. And who is she? We . . .
MARGARET: Let me tell you something, Jan. Râkım Efendi certainly likes this slave very much. See, as he told us, he taught her Turkish and then French.
JAN: Besides, did you see the piano outside?
MARGARET: I did but how we do know if she’s the one who plays it?
JAN: Who else would? Râkım Efendi doesn’t know how to play the piano.
MARGARET: Do you see? This means that he found someone to teach her how to play the piano. What was he saying just now? This girl was worth a hundred liras when she was purchased. He said that she’d be worth two thousand liras now. See, he finds her so valuable because he educated and polished her in this way.
We included the details of these conversations between Jan, Margaret, and Janan because we thought that they were necessary for our story. The conversation in the other room between Râkım and the Ziklas couple touched on this and that. Afterwards, the girls returned to the living room with Janan and sat in front of the piano.
At this point, Mr. Ziklas’s pleasure heightened. They played both alafranga and alaturka tunes. They played their favorite song, “O morning breeze, do not blow,” twice. Finally, mealtime arrived and Râkım entered the room bearing a short, round dinner table with folding legs, a round brass tray, a tablecloth, and napkins. He then showed Mr. Ziklas all the accessories of an alaturka table: the pouch for the silverware, breadbasket, salt and pepper shakers, and the floor poufs. The crazy Englishman studied each of them one by one and was surprised at the detailed information he received about them all.
Everybody sat down at the table. They ate the soup in keeping with tradition. Later, just as Râkım had described, a black Arab arm extended the frying pan filled with stew through the doorway. Mr. Ziklas was so surprised and curious that he attempted to stand up and look at the Arab. The girls had already leaped up from their seats but sat back down when their mother intervened.
People always laugh when they see a Turk who’s never eaten at an alafranga table eat in alafranga style. For instance, it really amuses people to see Turks who can’t manage to cut their meat with a knife and instead pick it up and shred it with their hands before using a fork. On the other hand, it makes people split their sides laughing to see an Englishman, who has never eaten in the alaturka way, eat in alaturka style. The way the guests ate today made them laugh at themselves! For example, as soon as Mr. Ziklas dipped his finger all the way into the frying pan, which was filled with boiling hot stew, he pulled his arm away in pain as quick as lightning, hitting his wife, who was sitting right next to him, with his elbow, and knocking the poor woman over. You couldn’t have stopped laughing if you’d seen this yourself.
Anyway, they finished the meal, and it was late afternoon by the time the Ziklas family returned home. Mr. and Mrs. Ziklas were enchanted with the alaturka way of life just as Madame Josephine had been a couple days ago. The girls, on the other hand, returned regretting that they had ever gone in the first place.
Why?
Who knows? We only know that they left the place feeling jealous of everything they observed about Janan. If you wish, you can attribute this to their childishness, or, if you wish . . .
Felâtun Bey and Râkim Efendi Page 13