CHITCHATS IN HEAVEN

                                                         Heaven as they call it

                                                         A few palaces and a few houris

                                                         Give them to those who want

                                                          I need nothing but YOU

                                                         

                                              Yunus Emre, 13th century Turkish sufi poet

The day was the most beautiful day of the week and the time was the most beatiful time of the day. God’s beautiful image* has risen through the mountains that surround the city. It was like a sunrise on a spring day. The faithful people who have waited a week for this day to come, enjoyed the moment with great celebration while the priceless beauty of God was being reflected on their faces. Billions of people felt the ecstasy of seeing their God without a veil in between. With the highest possible emotional breakthrough in their hearts, most of them promised themselves that they will never move away from this peak moment. Outcries, shouts, screams of bliss and tears of happiness all mingled together, a storm of peace spread towards the sky. In that very moment of excessive joy, Ahmet’s eyes caught the steps of his childhood friend Adem** who was slowly splitting the crowd and seemingly looking for a quiet place for himself. He decided to chase him and without much effort he made his way through the crowd.

-          Hi Adem. How are you? We haven’t seen each other for a week. If not Fridays, we won’t see each other at all in this huge heaven.

He knew that Adem is having some serious troubles in recent months but he didn't know how to start the conversation. This is why he tried to refer to their friendship back in the previous life in the world.  Adem unwillingly opened his mouth to speak. The words came out through his tongue like a bicycle wobbling through a steep uphill.

-          I am ok, as you know. I don’t have any problem. We are in heaven, there is no such a thing called “problem” here. You know it too.

Ahmet stared at his friend closely. They knew each other since the middle school. Although they studied at different high schools, fate brought them together again at the engineering faculty of the same university. Since those years, they stayed as close friends and even after death, this did not change much.

-          There is something but you are hiding. Is it the same houri*** problem? As I heard from others, you sent all the houris away. Is it true that there is no even a single gilman**** at your home! I cannot understand you. We were patient people in the world life, did not get indulged in pleasures. Now we deserve them. You don’t need to worry about the others anymore. Thanks God, we passed the bridge***** without any trouble. I don’t understand why you make your life so difficult for yourself. Look at me, I now have seventy houris. I also have twenty gilmans. On Fridays, I come here for the ceremony. I am extremely happy with my life in heaven. You can do the same.

Adem smiled slightly once he hears the number seventy. He seemed controlling his laughter though. Perhaps, if he laughs loudly, it would mean as a support to Ahmet’s decision of seventy houris.

-          I cannot stand the fact that those houris and gilmans work for me all day and get nothing. I feel guilty and this guilt gnaws me inside. I cannot stop thinking that they also have their own rights to exist, live a decent life like us.

Ahmet slightly stroked his one-year long beard.

-          You are speaking nonsense, Adem. You know it too but you are so stubborn. You cannot admit it. They have been created to serve us. It is their raison d’être. They exist to make us happy, not for any other reason. They are definitely not the oppressed class. The more they serve us, the more they feel happy. Believe me! Listen, do you know what I have been thinking recently? Let me send ten houris to your house tonight. Spend your night with them, enjoy every possible pleasure, let your mind ease a bit. Tomorrow, we can go together and look for nice houris for you. 

      Adem stared at his friend’s face in order to check whether he was serious in his offer. To his surprise, Ahmet seemed quite adamant. From their long friendship in the world life, he always considered Ahmet as a man who enjoys putting salt on bleeding wounds of his friends and it seemed even the heaven didn’t change him much.

-          No, thanks! I am fine. I plan to read in the evening. Despite all the distractions, my biggest pleasure is still reading and contemplating.

      A sharp grin spread over Ahmet’s face, showing the effect of the disappointment. He couldn’t believe that Adem declined his offer. Perhaps, he needed to deviate from this serious topic.

-          Do you know what makes me the happiest? I am so glad that we got divorced before dying. Otherwise, we would be getting all that nonsense noise from our wives here too. Actually you lived many years after your divorce but me! I had an accident right after the court’s decision, died on the same day. God loves me, man! I escaped at the very last moment. Now I am very fine. My wife, I mean ex-wife, lives at the other corner of heaven. I never see her. Our kids come to visit me once in a while. When they visit, I send all the houris away. I don’t want them to misunderstand me, you know! I am their father. I somehow feel a bit embarrassed. But once they leave, we make the best parties of heaven. Come on, don’t decline my offer. Take ten of them, let your mind rest, let your body enjoy. 

-          Don’t insist, Ahmet. I will never say yes. Last time I spent time with houris, I could not feel well for months. I suffered as if I carried a large rock in my stomach while walking along the honey rivers. I cannot be happy by oppressing others.

-          Haaaaa! You are getting out of the path, my friend! Who is oppressing who? They are doing their job. You must do your job too and your job is to be happy. You were like this in the world too. You should thank me for not letting you on your way. Otherwise, your heart would have been blackened by those dangerous thoughts and you would not have passed the life exam. We passed the bridge because of me.

-          You are right, Ahmet. I cannot thank you enough. However, this still doesn't change my thoughts about the houris and gilmans. I wish they never existed so we could do our jobs ourselves or jobs could be completed by themselves.

A long laughter exploded in Ahmet’s mouth.

-          You are speaking without thinking. It is not about the jobs only. What about our needs? How can we satisfy those needs by ourselves? Your words make no sense at all. Our infinite God’s infinite mercy put us here and we are content with what He gives us. We, the faithful ones, have no right to decline what He gives us.

Adem’s eyes opened wide when he heard the word “infinite”. Perhaps, it was the only opportunity that he will be getting today. He wanted to flow like a river which just found its bed.

-          You say infinite! That also confuses me in these days. I understand and respect the idea that our God is infinitely powerful and infinitely beautiful.

-          Yeahh! Finally, you started making sense.

-          No, no! It doesn’t end there. Where does this infinite beauty and power come from? What is the source?

-          My dear Adem, your mind is more confused than I previously thought. If you continue talking like this, I will not talk to you any more. Otherwise, you will put me in trouble too. Are you crazy? Do you hear what you are saying?

-          Calm down, Ahmet. No need to be so worried, believe me. I am just contemplating.

-          No, you are not contemplating. You are moving towards infidelity. Contemplating is going uphill, you are going downhill.

-          Why so? Let’s think together. We both know that there is not a single concept of infinite. Technically, we can claim that there are infinite number of infinites. For example, there are infinite number of real numbers between zero and one. But there are also infinite number of real numbers between one and infinite. Can we say that these two sets are equally big? Of course not! The latter one is infinite times bigger than the former one. 

-          And then? Where are you heading to? You made me curious too. Out of nowhere you are sprouting the seeds of doubts into my heart! Anyway, continue. I am listening.

-          Don’t worry, Ahmet. Nothing bad can happen to you. We go to see God on Fridays. We all appreciate His infinite power, His infinite knowledge and His infinite beauty.

-          And then?

-          What if there is another God who is even more infinite than our God? Do we have a proof that there is none!

-          We don’t have a proof that there is one either!

-          You are right, Ahmet. Mine is just doubt. I am just thinking.

-          I think you are exaggerating. Don’t you see? We are in heaven, my friend. Those thoughts were good when we were in the world. There is no need to contemplate any more. Love, be loved, serve your own interests. There are honey rivers and winefalls here. If houris don’t make you happy then enjoy the other beauties. 

-          But Ahmet, I enjoy contemplating. It gives me more pleasure than the houris or the honey rivers can. Like everybody else, I too, choose doing things which make me happy. Am I doing wrong?

-          Ok, my dear Adem. Do whatever you wish but do not get me involved. Tell me your other adventures once you have them.

-          Don’t worry. We are in heaven. Didn’t you tell me that once we enter here we will always be here? Let me give you another example. You also studied engineering so it won’t be difficult for you to understand. Think of the function f(x)=ln(x). It is divergent****** but it grows very slowly. Now think of the function g(x)=e^x. This one is also divergent but it grows infinite times faster towards infinity. I mean the ratio of the g(x) to f(x) is also infinite. When we were in the world life, it was enough to believe in one infinite but now I doubt about it. What if the God we see on Fridays is f(x) and there is a g(x) which is infinite times more powerful, more beautiful, more knowledgeable? Perhaps, in the heaven of g(x), there is no place for houris and gilmans. The entire being is equal, regardless of their natüre.

-          Ohhhh Adem! You are obsessed with equality. Listen to me! You cannot find more equality and more freedom than what you find here. Here is heaven! There is no other life after this one. In this life, everything is offered to us in the most beautiful way possible. Show some gratitude! You might have ended up in hell too. You might not even have existed at all.

-          How do you know, Ahmet?

-          How do I know what?

-          How do you know that this heaven is not an exam place? Perhaps, beyond what we see and perceive there is another power. Perhaps, everything we see and perceive has been created by that power. I just mentioned g(x). Perhaps, He wants us to find him. He wants us to contemplate and reach Him by contemplating.

-          I am going home, Adem. You are not only thinking a lot, you also talk a lot. If you continue like this, you will turn your heaven to hell. Listen to my advice. Start doing something.

-          Ok, go! But I would like to ask one more question. Do you remember when I was at the faculty, I used to read a lot of philosophy and ask questions about the meaning of life. In those days, you helped me out and introduced me the infinite power of God. Do you know what I am thinking in these days? I wonder if God also questions His own being like the way I did. I mean, does He ever ask Himself why He exists or what is the meaning of all these things? Does he ever doubt that if there is another power bigger than His own? If He does, then shouldn’t He also reach the same conclusion that I have reached by using the rules of logical inference? 
     

As soon as Adem finished his last words, the ground under his feet started shaking with enormous noise. A small crack appeared right behind him and it got larger in a few seconds. It passed between Adem’s feet and made it difficult for him to stand. After a few seconds only, he felt helpless as one of his feet remained at one side of the crack and the other foot remained at the other side. His final effort to escape only ended with his fall into the crack. The whole thing happened so quick that Ahmet could only stare at his friend, speechless with what just happened before his eyes. In that short period of time, he could not even had chance to give him a hand or at least pray God to forgive him. Adem disappeared in the cold darkness of the crack and there was no single trace of him once the ground calmed down.

At the same moment, Adem found himself at the middle of a muddy swamp. The sky was purely clear, air was so clean. He spotted zebras, giraffes and deers at the other side of the swamp. Big colorful birds passed over his head with the songs of morning. At the other end of the swamp, Adem saw an ostrich moving away from her eggs to find some food for herself. There is neither a human being around nor a trace of any human community. Slowly he moved towards the ostrich’s eggs with the hope that he might fetch one egg for himself. Once he was out of the swamp, the mud sticked to his body dried up and fell. At that moment, he realized that he is nude from head to toe. Without thinking that there is no men or women to see him, he ran to a nearby fig tree. He took a leave from the tree and covered his genitals.

                                         Written by Alirıza Arıcan – May 2nd 2014
                   Translated to English by Alirıza Arıcan - May 3rd 2014

                                                                
                                                                          Changzhou, China

* seeing God: In Islamic tradition, there is a belief which suggests that muslims will be able to see God (Allah) without any veil in between. This event wiil occur every Friday.

** Adem is an Arabic name which is the equivalent of biblical name Adam.

*** houri: Female servants in heaven. They also provide sexual services if asked.

**** gilman: Male servants in heaven. They usually do the house chore. There is a debate on whether they can also provide sexual services if asked.

***** bridge: the bridge that the people are supposed to cross in order to reach heaven. Hell is under the bridge so if one is not successful, s/he falls into the hell.

****** divergent: If an infinite series cannot reach a real number, it is called divergent. For example, 1+2+3+.... is a divergent series because the sum never ends at a real number. However, some series grow faster than the others. For example 2+4+6+..... is twice the first one although it is also called divergent. The two functions mentioned in the story, f(x) and g(x), are both divergent but g(x) outgrows f(x) infinite times. This basically means g(x) divided by f(x) approaches infinite when x approaches infinite. The biggest confusion about infinity occurs when we think infinite as a number. It is a concept that we can numerically never reach. This is why we use “limit” when we deal with infinity. Whenever we assign a numerical value to infinite, we end up with a contradiction.

Diary of a Mouse Living in 1.6.01 with Illustrations

As you all know I rarely post personal things on my blog. However, today is somehow special. It is my birthday. It is the end of my 34th year in this world and today I am living the 12,418th day of my life... I cannot recall how each day passed but I lived long enough to taste love, friendship, joy, grief, success, failure, sorrow and many more... Today, I can say I lived all of them in one day...

For me, a birthday is like any other usual day but today, thanks to the friends in the office and three lovely students who brought me a wonderful gift, I consider it the most special one so far. We had two cakes -one from the teachers in the office and one from the students-, had some loud conversations and laughter.

These three students -two of them I have never taught, but they know me through my blog- brought me a very pretty and personalized gift. It is the "Diary of a Mouse Living in 1.6.01 with illustrations". I am posting the pictures of the illustrations and some brief information about each photo. I also post the picture with the three students (Giao, Khanh and Long), assuming they won't mind being on my blog for one day. There is also Mr Tien and Mr Giovanni, who are the invisible hands behind the gathering.

Those who want to read the entire story, they can find it by clicking on this link.

Here are the photos of the illustrations (Please forgive my non-existent photography skills):

This is the cover of the booklet. The name of the cute mouse in the picture is "Snow" and he is the protagonist of this story.

Here is the illustration showing the class division in the entire population. Rats control the food supplies and live in wealth. Poor mice are starving and they have no access to the food.

Here, the protagonist "Snow" is falling in love with a human "femme fatale" although this is strictly against the rules in the mice community.

Snow is happy on the grass after a very boring Sunday without seeing his sweetheart. He is now hopeful that he will see her soon...

Snow receives the letter of warning from the revolutionary committee because he ignored his responsibilities due to his recent love affair. If he misses one more meeting, he will be excommunicated :(

Snow is very amorous but his love does not seem pleased. Poor Snow will be brokenhearted soon with this unexpected reaction from her sweetheart but he will not give up.

A policemouse comes to bring the letter. Snow is summoned to the court to defend himself in front of three judges. His kids are taken to an orphanage till the court makes a decision.

An emotional scene in the court: Snow meets his wife who left him long time ago. He learns the truth behind her leaving. He feels betrayed right before the court starts...

Snow in the court, defending his recent actions and trying to convince the judges about his understanding of revolution: Permanent Revolution

The Great Leader visits Snow in the cell. He is shackled to the wall and thinks that his end is soon. he still does not know that his diary is read by many.

Snow escapes from the cell and makes a new home for himself outside the building 1 thanks to his fans who supported his ideas without him aware of anything. He rolls downhill like a ball. He is greeted by a little girl mouse. She calls him "Snowball" for the first time.

Happy End :)

PS: All illustrations are hand-drawn by Le Tran Vinh Hien, a student of HCMC University of Pedagogy, a friend of Long.

THE STRIKE - CH 1 (1)

Prelude

This is the road of dust and mud, this is the road of misery and wealth, this is the road of hope and desperation, this is the road of love and hatred, and this is the road of compassion and cruelty. Like all roads, this one too deserves the travelers who can pay enough attention to its details. There is blood in this road, there is pain. They are the tears of struggling souls, the tears of the people who deserve more than what they are given and asked to be content. This road is not smooth, full of thorns and sharp rocks. It is a road going nowhere and everywhere. It is a circle and a line; it is a life and a death.

CHAPTER 1

Right after a huge lorry passed on the highway, the dust waiting beside the road moved up from the asphalt, got speed and rolled in the air like smoke from the tip of a cigarette. With the wind coming from the dirty façades and pavements, collecting the odour of the unnamed wastes through every door along the road, the dust got accumulated to a white cloud and went through the iron gate of a shoes factory. It became a wheel revolving around itself, a vacuum sucking the air inside and giving nothing out. The security guard of the factory found himself at the middle of a painful fight against an invisible enemy and without losing more time he ran to his cubicle, closed the window, locked it tight and sat on his chair. The cloud of dust turned towards the large lane between two big buildings of the factory where the workers were waiting for the bell to ring. The lane is large enough for two trucks to enter and leave for heavy loadings.

By the time the power of dust eased and it became completely harmless, the bell on the four poles of the four corners of the factory rang and hundreds of workers rushed towards the gate. Little women, some as thin as dolls, left their production lines as if there was a fire in the factory, found their shoes at the bottom of the walls –some were hidden behind the stairs or inside the small holes of the wall- and got in a long queue to punch their attendance cards. A dog and two puppies were shaking their tails while turning around the workers. The women with tired eyes and tired tomorrow did not have the luxury of playing with the puppies before getting back to the family responsibilities. For them, life is a jumping process: happy but poor childhood, crazy but restricted youth, hopeful but highly responsible adulthood… One ends, the other starts. No break for stopping and taking a deep breath.

By the time the entire factory is emptied and the foreign managers started walking up and down to check the facilities, the telephone in the director’s room rang.

-Yoboseyooo

He assumed a Korean manager is calling either from Seoul or from another unit in the factory. But at the other end of the phone line there was the voice of a frightened child with broken, heavily-accented English.

-Sir, can we talk for a minute? I am Khoa, from line 7. This is very important, sir!

Director thought in a millisecond to recognize the owner of the voice. This was one of the spy union members he hired after the last strike the factory had a few months ago. The agreement was simple. Whoever informs the director about a possible strike at least one day earlier will receive a double salary at the end of the month. The promise was clear and there was not much to lose for the factory. In fact, if he can stop the strike or at least intimidate those who will attempt, the damage can be minimized.

- Yes, we can talk. But you should not come here. Come to the empty room behind the warehouse. I will be inside and the door will be unlocked. Just get in. Ok?

There was a long silence on the line. The director somehow thought that Khoa did not understand what he meant so wanted to repeat everything once more.

- Did you understand what I said? Come to the empty room behind the warehouse. No one should see you. Be careful!

Silence continued but this time it was befriended with susurrant breathing. Perhaps he was intimidated by the possibility of being seen by other workers or he was not sure about the accuracy of the information he gathered.

- Yes, sir! I will be there soon. See you soon.

The director hanged up the phone without saying a word. He watched some of the office girls who are preparing to leave and one accountant was looking towards him as if she saw something suspicious. “What are you staring at?” he shouted at her. The young accountant smiled as she did not understand what the director asked her to do. It was one of the weird moments and as in all weird moments, she escaped the ambiguity by a quick, meaningless smile.

The director left the room without saying any more words and went to the warehouse. There was the warehouse manager at the gate. After greeting him with usual words, he asked him to watch around and do not let any worker inside the warehouse except for Khoa from Line 7. The warehouse manager bowed his head without asking any question and stood up to check the surrounding area. When the director went inside the ware house, he could not stop himself checking the newly-arrived rolls of leathers from China. He touched the top of the roll to feel the quality but the idea of the secret meeting with Khoa made him uneasy. He walked through the paints, ropes and wooden materials and reached the end of the building. When he opened the door of the small security room between the ware house and the wall, he saw Khoa walking up and down in the room with a bundle of papers in his hand.

- How did you come here? The ware house manager did not even tell me you were here! He did not see you?

Khoa looked absentmindedly and seemed he did not understand why the question was important.

- I jumped over the wall. It is the safest way. If I come from the front, some who have cleaning duty can see me.

The director seemed pleased with Khoa’s self-guided intelligence. He smiled but this was too brief that Khoa could not catch even a glimpse of it. The director sat on the old chair which seemed ready to collapse but somehow it did not. He stared at him with questioning eyes.

-Sit down, first! Stop walking around… You are making me dizzy. Sit down and tell me what you learnt.

Khoa sat on the other old chair and before starting to talk, gave him a paper from the bundle in his hand.

-Sir, there will be a strike tomorrow. And not a small one! It is the biggest one so far…

-- To be continued

History of Broken Hearts - Ch2 (2)

It was his thought, perhaps a miscalculation of his naïve mind that he would be able to forget her easily. However, the memories of the recent years haunted him wherever he went and whatever he did. She was like a ghost lurking into every hole he enters and making him feel more miserable. It took more than a month that he could wake up without thinking of her and he can get into the in the night without the pills. After the break up, he did not meet his friends and did not join the social occasions. Grief for his loss was his best friend and he just wanted to be alone, wanted to work long hours and once he realizes that he cannot work more, he gets back home and sleeps. One pill was enough when he gets too tired in order to make him fall in sleep without losing much time. On Saturdays and Sundays, he needed two pills to kill the screaming woman in his mind. Walking on the crowded streets now, he keeps seeing her in every woman’s face. Her eyes, her nose, her eyebrows, her lips are somehow scattered around the city and given to many women so that the city will be carrying the memories for him even if he tries hard to leave everything to the absolute oblivion.

When he turned from the large street to the one of the small lanes going his house, he saw a man looking at the paintings inside a gallery. First he did not recognize him but somehow he felt the obligation to look at his face more carefully to make sure what he thought of who he was could be true. Yes, this was him! This was Kien, the boy with the nickname “Zapata” from the high school years. This was the only boy with high-pitch voice and strong political views in the classroom. Minh still remembered his counter-arguments echoing in the classroom, disagreeing with the social sciences teacher and trying to convince other students for the possibility of a better society. Minh never became a close friend to him as Kien is a sort of loser in his family’s eyes. His father used to say “Don’t talk with those who want to destroy the upper class. They do nothing but complain. We came to this point with hard work and determination, not with whining and crying. This country needs us so it can build up its industry and economy. No country needs people like him. They are parasites and you need to stay away from them to be a successful in this life.”

However Minh’s father was right or wrong, he felt a strong necessity to touch Kien’s shoulder and talk to him briefly about the high school years. After all, this could be a good chance to scatter the clouds in his head and think of the past which is much older than the recent cause of his absent mind. It was once in a life chance to commemorate the good old days and perhaps it could mitigate his pain even it is for a short time only. “Hey, Kien! Is this you?” he said as if he was not sure of it.

The man who was absorbed into the bright yellows of imitation of Van Gogh inside the gallery turned back slowly and stared at Minh’s face with bewildered eyes. His face slowly turned from a distant land to a familiar scene and showed the signs of remembering him. “I am sorry, I think I know you from somewhere but I couldn’t recognize. Were you one of my students in the past?” Minh grinned without losing his expectation. In fact, he liked Kien’s false guess as it unintentionally meant he looked very young. “It’s me! Minh from …. High School. We were in the same classroom for three years in junior high. Don’t you remember? I was the head of Business Club in high school and you were the president of … Mmmm, what was it? Writing? No no, it was Literature, right? Yeah, you used to invite poets to the school. Remember me now?” Minh still looked absentmindedly but this time his face seemed a bit more nonchalant. “I am sorry, I cannot recall you. I know your face and I am sure what you are saying is true. Yes, I was the president of Literature Club. It doesn’t matter anyway. We were in the same high school. When was it? 15 years ago? 16? Anyway, it is nice to see someone from the same high school after many years. How have you been? How is everything” Minh seemed pleased but the question at the end made him a bit worried. Should he just say “I am fine, everything is fine.” and leave it to the conversation on other things or should he give clues about his recent loss. “Everything is almost fine or almost everything is fine” he said without knowing what prompted such an ambiguous expression.

"Ha ha ha, such a nice answer! At least you are better than saying “nothing is fine.”.” Kien’s eyes sparkled, showing the sign of a small laughter without showing his teeth as if it would be a betrayal to his grief if he laughs loudly. Minh seemed slightly pleased with his cheerful response as it melted the iceberg of long years even though there was never a close friendship between them. He looked at the paintings first and then tried to see what is inside the shop. It was one of the many shops mushroomed in the city in recent years, selling the imitations of famous painters like Picasso, Van Gogh, Botero and Munch. Trying to catch Kien’s eyes, “So what are you doing here? Looking for a painting? You can find these imitations everywhere in the city. This gallery is not open yet.” Kien stared at his face suspiciously and said “I am not looking for a painting. I am looking for a painter.” Minh raised his eyebrows as if he understood what Kien meant. “A painter? Why?” Kien scanned Minh’s sluggish look and with a small smirk on his mouth, he said “Yes, a painter with one hand only. Her left hand is damaged. But it is a long story. If you have time for a breakfast, we can sit at a café and talk. How does it sound?” Minh was surprised by the offer. This was the same guy who just did not recognize him. Now he was inviting him to a breakfast. He raised his hand to see his watch but before he even looked at his wrist, he realized he left the watch in the office. “Yes” he said without thinking once more. “Why not? I can go to work a bit late. I worked all night anyway”

In the café which is located on the pavement of a busy street, right across the art gallery, they sat on small chairs and asked for two banh mi op la with coffees. Kien paid extra attention to face towards the street so that he can see if anyone opens the gallery. Their conversation did not go too far from their recent pain so all they talked about the heavy feeling of loneliness they feel after the break up. Both agreed on the difficulty of getting used to the absence of the voice of the one who used to be around all the time. Then Kien told his story of the book. How he paid a deposit for Gorki’s book before going to Hanoi but how the bookseller sold the book to a young girl before he got back to Saigon. He explained why he needed the book so desperately and how much he wants to have it back if it is possible. This explained why he was waiting in front of the art gallery, pretending he is interested in Picasso’s cubism or Botero’s fat asses. When Minh asked what he plans to find the book, Kien said “I will check all the art galleries in this city, including the photo shops and T-shirt designers to find the book. This is the only thing I care about now. I need that book because somehow I convinced myself that it is the only valuable thing which can bring my wife back.” Minh stayed silent for a few seconds, hiding his doubt behind his stagnant eyes. While finishing their first coffee, they were talking about the benefits of free trade and consumerism for Vietnam.

They ordered another coffee but before the coffees arrived, Kien stood up and ran to the art gallery like a rabbit chased by a fox. Minh paid the bill and walked after him but before he arrived to the door, Kien left the gallery with an empty face. “She is not the one who bought the book. I saw the young girl entered to the gallery so I thought she might be the one. But she is not! Damn it! This is 9^th gallery so far. How many more I will need to check!” Minh wanted to console him although he did not know how to do it, he just patted on his shoulder and said “Let me walk with you for a while. Maybe when we both look for it, we can find it quicker. We can talk while searching so time can pass fast. I won’t go to work today! Fuck it! I will call them and say I feel sick. Having a broken heart is a sickness, isn’t it?” Kien laughed loudly this time without worrying about the possible betrayal to his heart. “Although we don’t agree on the economic policies of our government, somehow I like your way of ignoring the work. If it is ok for you, I don’t mind walking with you and searching for the book. Besides, we are the ones who are left behind by their loves so this makes us true brothers. Poor victims of love! We are all equal in front of God and the ones who broke our hearts. Ha ha ha!”

History of Broken Hearts - Ch2 (1)

First chapter is here: http://rizaarican.blogspot.com/2009/07/history-of-broken-hearts-chapter-1.html

Chapter 2 – Mappaemundi is a map for sinners, not for navigators.

When the telephone’s alarm started ringing like a crazy rooster, M knew that it was time to get out of the bed and prepare for the work. But once he opens his eyes, he realized that he is neither in his house nor sleeping in a bed. He is in his office, on his beloved chair and in front of his large computer screen. The light coming from the ceiling was not effective any more due to the daylight outside. The arrival of twilight hit him in the office, witnessing his hardwork and determination for success or the opposite, his laziness and sluggishness due to the failure of his persistance against sleep. He could not say which adjectives should be used to describe his night because he did not know how much job he has done and how much more to go. He tries to move his body slightly towards the table so that he can get some support from it to stand up but the accumulated pain at his back does not let him move. “Damn” he curses, while trying to hold his back with one hand and hold the chair’s side-arm with his other hand.

This wasn’t the first time he spent his night in the office, among the stock exchange rates, empty coffee mugs, dozing computer hard-drives and a list of the things he wanted to finish yesterday. His loose necktie seems having a race with his untucked shirt and of course his online customers in USA or Europe were now sleeping without noticing his sacrifice. He stares at the computer screen in order to figure out where he stopped before falling into sleep but he can see only the blackness which is as strong as the sunlight. For a second, he thinks if there is also a way to measure the darkness without considering its inverse relationship with light. The dark he sees when he closes his eyes before sleeping and the dark he gets when he turns off the light in the office cannot be the same. Darkness can be inspirational for some people. It can be scary for those who cannot rely on their other senses as much as they trust their eyes. It can be like a vacuum, ready to suck the entire light of the universe together with everything inside. He mumbles the words “dark, darker and the darkest”, remembers MM’s sparkling dark eyes in the moon light and realizes that dark can illuminate light if it is loved and appreciated.

His second attempt works well despite his reluctance to go anywhere. The force he exerts through his body pushes the chair back and without letting the pain intervene, he stands up.The staff will be coming to the office within an hour so he has to get out of here as soon as possible. He probably looks like a homeless man now sleeping on the streets, begging for the next meal. Is there a mirror in the office? Why should there be one? This is where he makes money by negotiating with international customers and convincing them to buy stocks from Vietnamese market. This is where he writes his economic reports and dreams his quick rise in the ladder. Mirrors will show this place smaller and uglier. Mirror will double the rush and will show the place more chaotic than it really is.

He walks towards the window to see the city, the one which never sleeps but just takes short naps. From the seventh floor of the building, people look like ants running for the benefit of the colony although he knows that everyone runs for their own behoof in this city. The motorbikes are honking to make sure that someone on the road will notice their existence. Honking here is not a warning; it is like breathing, an indispensable part of driving. He remembers the days he used to drive his father’s motorbike in the city, the days his mother used to say “You will be a great man, a great leader and everyone will respect you.” He did not know what it takes to be a great man but the idea sounded plausible, almost imaginable for a little boy. A few motorbike drivers were waiting at the corner of the junction for customers. At this rush hour, they can find a lot of people who need to go quick. It is not because they need to rush, it is the speed of the city that makes people rush, like a gravitational field created by the mass of a heavenly object. There is no choice for earth other than spinning around the sun. It is the path, the rule, the flux, the dharma imposed on us…

He turns his back to window and tucks his shirt in. After taking his necktie off his neck, he looks for his shoes for a while. They are under the table, like two children abandoned at a safe place for the comfort of their parents. Outside, the sun is not in baking mode yet so it is not hard to walk on the streets. He decides to take a walk even though he has not done it for long time. His home is not so far and it is nice to see people running around, to witness the city waking up. Most of the shops are already open, pavements are full of middle-aged people, drinking their iced-black coffees and watching the flow of the traffic as if a miracle will happen and save them from their misery or at least from the bitter taste of the coffee. Taxi drivers in front of hotels and business buildings seem tired of waiting for customers all night, some sleep on their front seat, their feet are dangling out the window like a piece of fabric swinging on a bride’s car. He sees one driver cleaning the vomit in his car while cursing the drunken foreign passenger. Another driver laughes at him from a safe distance and asks him if he managed to charge the foreigner double for the shit he caused. “It wasn’t he, it was a she” the driver shouts back. M walks through and cannot hear the rest of the conversation.

He walks through one of the tall buildings and passes in front of a homeless man, wrapped in his dirty clothes and his nonchalant viewers. One of his arms is crooked like a broken branch of a tree, swinging freely. His other arm is holding a dirty bowl in which there are a few coins. His both legs look fine but somehow he bandaged them with dirty clothes to make sure that they make him look more miserable than what he really is. He wants to keep his eyes away from the poor man but somehow he feels he cannot do it. The more he tries not to touch his eyes with his stare, the more his stare gets stuck in the beggar’s sunken eyeholes. There, he sees nothing but hope for a few thousand dong or maybe a recognition, like a dog waits for the master’s stroking hand on its back. The eyes scare him as if he is afraid of falling inside the hole and will never be able to return.

He walks faster while dreaming that there will be no poor people in the society when he becomes a leader of the economy in this country. There will be no beggars, no crowded hospitals, no dirty streets… With his economic plans and educational targets, Vietnam will prosper in the next twenty years, will be open to international trade and of course will be a centre of attention, first in Asia and then in the whole world. It is all hard-work and determination. It is all about believing that knowledge can enlighten the world and can slowly change it. It is all about having a faith in love of people, in beauty of freedom and in economic reforms which eventually will change the entire country as they changed the neigboring countries during the last few decades. He had the faith; he had the power and determination. But he also had a broken heart from a recently ended relationship and this only was enough to darken everything in his life including his future plans. His hope in future sank like Titanic sank despite the fact that it was the most advanced ship ever built in that time. It does not matter if a man’s heart is made of steel or glass, when it hits a flower which cannot be owned, his heart shatters like a frozen rose, loses all its challenging face, becomes pieces of useless red petals equivalent to the blood-washed leaves… That is how he felt in the recent few weeks: useless… As useless as the mirrors attached to the motorbikes but turned towards each other so that they will not hit the cars or other motorbikes.

He passed another large building and turned left to short-cut his way to home. When he started his relationship with MM, he was rushing home after work so that he can spend time with her, cook together, watch movie together and make love like they have never made love in their lives before. Home was a target to hit, a shrine to touch and expect a divine miracles. After one year or so, things started to change. He got bored with the monotone-ness of their relationship, the predictability of the weekends, and mundane-ness of the evenings. Then home became the place to go when there is nowhere else to go. The reasons he created at the office to go home earlier tuned upside down as he needed reasons to go home late. Maybe he made a mistake in rushing a decision of living together or maybe he was not the right person for her. When both of them realized that there is no solution for their jammed relationship, the complaints replaced the sweet words. Then his late office hours started. He worked late because he believed that the oblivion created by the working environment was for him to ease his pain, to forget his prospective loss. It was interesting for him that he felt the loss before it comes even though it striked him like a flash flood.

One morning he woke up early as usual to go to work. He found MM sitting on a chair, next to bed, smoking a cigarette. From his sleepy eyes, he saw her like she was smoking her fingers, her own body, perhaps her own life but he did not say anything except for a suspicious “good morning!”. MM did not reply him, inhaled another big smog from her cigarette as if she wanted to suck the entire world and fill her lungs with the all the filth of the earth. After exhaling what she just inhaled, “I don’t love you any more.” she said. He did not know what to say so he waited for more like a climber hit by the avalanche but there is nothing he can do except for waiting for the flux to stop before he decides what to do. “I woke up this morning and found out that I don’t love you any more. I checked my heart and could not find you there except for a lot of sweet memories which are now causing pain only.” Then she grabbed her bag, put a forced smile on her face as a last gesture and walked towards the door. For M, the whole thing was like a dream. A dream that tells you that you are in a dream and when you wake up the bitter experience will end. When the door shut behind her and left nothing behind but the dead silence of the bedroom, he thought about her heart. Where was it? Was it where he found it at the first time, at the little café where their eyes locked into each other? Or was it already packed and carefully put in the bag she was carrying? Or maybe her heart was stolen by another man? He never thought about it before but somehow this thought first time descended to his mind now like a defiled revelation after a razor’s cut on the cheek during a morning shave. He jumped from the bed and run to the balcony to see her walking away. She was not on the streets; not on the pavements… He waited for a while but could not see her. She had disappeared like a fairy, leaving only tricky mental games which will keep him awake for the next few weeks.

To be continued...

The Lift (End)

The phone rang and I picked the receiver. Hikmet Bey’s voice carried the sunlight of Antalya and the beaches of Alanya into my cage. He sounded cheerful and after expressing his sympathy for my miserable situation, he asked my husband and my children. Then our conversation turned to buying new fabric from his factory and dealing with the German buyers together. He asked me to lower the price but I kept telling him I cannot go lower than what I have offered two weeks ago. He insisted, I declined, he insisted, I declined... We could not find a midpoint so I asked him to talk with Tufan Bey about his request. He stopped talking and haedng up the phone without saying a good bye. I sat on the floor again and kept myself busy with the model drawings till Ahmet appear at the door again.

“Abla, it is lunch time. I brought you the lunch.” I stared at the gap and saw the tabledhote. I asked angrily “Ahmet, are you kidding? Where the hell is this technician? It has been three hours.” He pulled the tabledhote back and put his face down. “He is coming, Abla. This morning his wife’s water broke. He took her to the hospital.” I didn’t know what I should day. Should I be happy for the newborn baby of our mysterious technician or should I be upset for his wife’s delivery coincided with the broken lift? I chose the former one, trying to look positive despite the growing darkness in my head. “Wow, I did not even know he was married. Anyway, give me my lunch and tell the girls in the office to collect some money so we can buy a small gift for the baby.” He looked surprised showing all his yellow teeth again, “Valla Abla!, you are the kindest woman in this office. The other girls in the office don’t care about anything except for their hair and makeup.” He then gave me the lunch. I sat on the floor, at the middle of four candles and their flickering lights, I ate my lunch quietly.

I was eating the dessert and thinking of my son’s math exam. He must be writing the answers now or must be having a panic attack looking at the numbers. I tried to help him last night but the topics were too difficult even for me. When I was a kid, we learnt only add, subtract, multiply and divide. Now, kids learn different things. All this x and y! I was so absorbed by my son’s struggling face, I did not even hear Tufan Bey’s footsteps. He sat on a small stool, bent his loin, put his bag on the floor. “Fahriye, how is the lunch? Look, you are having a romantic one. Can I join you?” I swallowed the last morsel of the künefe and stood up again. “If you give me a glass of tea as well, you can join.” He shouted to Ahmet, “Ahmeeeeet, bring two tea here. Mine should be light.” Then he turned to me, “Technician is coming. Don’t worry! But even he comes now, it might take a few hours till he finishes the work.” and took the laptop from his bag “Here is a computer for you. Battery can last at least 4 hours so you can contact the other girls and finalize the model drawings. We need to send them to Germany tonight and without you it cannot be done.” I took the computer without saying a word, turned it on and waited for the screen to appear. Fortunately, wireless connection works here well so I felt a bit closer to the world. At least I am no more disconnected when there is no one near the door. When Ahmet asked me if I want one more tea, I had to say “no” as my bladder may not be able to hold the pee till the technician finishes his work.

I worked all afternoon, replied the e-mails of the clients, contacted the buyers from USA and Sweden through Skype, did the final touches to the model drawings. When the technician came and started working at the door, I did not even ask him where he has been all day. I just told him “Congratulations for the baby!” and continued working as if he is not the one who showed up there to save me. Somehow I was fine with my new office space and got used to it. Holding my pee to its unbearable limits, I focused on working, called the girls to exchange the papers, had a small meeting with my staff in front of the door and asked them to bring me the receipts of the purchases made in recent months. I also made a few more calls to make sure everything is being done in order with the new products. When the candles are used up totally, I asked for new ones. About 4 pm, to my surprise, the lift started working again. It slowly moved up and I walked out to the corridor. There were about ten people on the corridor waiting for me so once they saw me they started applauding. Şule and Buse hugged me and kissed my cheeks. Tufan Bey came and said “Geçmiş Olsun, Fahriye. Have a rest for a while and then go home. Today you worked enough.”

After the toilet, I sat on the couch looking outside the window and called my son to ask him about his mathematics test. He said “Mom, I did all questions except for the one about the speed of a lift.” I said “Don’t worry, my boy! Lifts can cost you a few points in the exam and they can also cost you an entire day of sunlight.” He did not understand what I meant and asked me. I said “I will tell you later in the evening. Now pick your sister from the school and go home, ok? I will come home early today so will cook mantı for you.” He kept quiet for a few seconds, perhaps hiding his excitement“Ok, mom! See you! Mantı, ohhhhhh… Byeeee”

The technician came and sat next to me, smiling from head to toe. I asked “How is your baby?” He stared at my face as if he wanted to say something very important. “Ohh, thanks abla, both the baby and the mother are fine. I just called her and talked with her. She asked about you.” I was not sure if I heard correct so I asked “She asked about me, why?”. He looked a bit shy this time, eyes rolling down and up, feeling uneasy. “She heard from Ahmet about your situation and admired your patience in the lift.” I told him to thank her for worrying about me. But this was not really what he wanted. He turned to me and waved his hand to the people in the office, “My baby is a girl and we decided to give her your name, Abla.” Then the office burst into laughter and applauds… I laughed, he laughed, they laughed… To have one more Fahriye in this world, another Fahriye needed to work in darkness for an entire day.

Before going to bed, my husband asked how my day was. I said “Started dark and ended lightful” to keep it simple with no more explanation. He smiled “Ying and yang, huh? Good! Mine was all dark. He he!” I did not ask him the cause of his dark day. I hugged him behind and fell in sleep…

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Turkish words

Abla: elder sister (commonly used by younger ones to address middle-aged ladies)

Bayram: Religious or national festivities

Peynirli poğaça: a pastry with cheese filling

Bey: Mr

Künefe: a kind of Turkish dessert.

Geçmiş Olsun: condolences after someone recovers from a sickness

Mantı: a ravioli-like dish served with yoghurt and garlic