Swords of Ice

by Latife Tekin

  My liddle laydi, Sunsun, Sunsun, Sunsun, my lavely mami…

  He simply couldn’t believe it. Time couldn’t have turned into such a vile artist. The scene he faced must be happening in some impossible, inscrutable dimension outside of time. Clearly, the confusion he was feeling now demanded some major interpretation, but his nerves were in such a state of complete collapse that he couldn’t even begin to order his thoughts.

  He’d never in his life known an afternoon as unlucky as this. Even so, as a man who’d always held spiritual love above the physical, he was determined to stay friends with Jülide. His collision with this unexpected terror made him tremble, but he made sure he remembered to say, ‘You’re welcome to a few million if you need it.’

  ‘If a woman turns down money even while showing every sign of being in dire straits, she must have loads of self-confidence.’ This discovery relieved Halilhan. Despite her aged spirit and witch-like appearance Jülide’s honour remained intact. Still, to soothe his conscience, he left her some pocket change. As he did so, he suffered, for about a second, the hardship of being born a man. Men were forced by life to behave in this way. Normally, he would have had to take Jülide shopping and buy her a few dresses so she’d look pretty. But if he’d taken that route at this point, he’d have landed her with a moral burden not befitting her pride. Rather than flashing his money about, therefore raising himself above her, he wanted a plain and simple friendship with Jülide. He was glad to see Sunsun at her side. When the cat had got lost, he’d thought Rübeysa had taken her revenge by having her drowned. ‘How great it is to see her alive! It’s just as sweet to me as the nightingales’ song.’ Dazed by emotions, he couldn’t stay any longer. He kissed Jülide’s hand and fled.

  ‘There you have it, the unknowable thing we know as love!’ Halilhan sat at the wheel, having no idea which way to turn. ‘So fate has made room for me too in the train of sick lovers,’ was the best he could manage to see his way clear of confusion. Forming a heart-to-heart attachment with somebody you couldn’t even stand to be side-to-side with – now there was an illogical sort of twist! Life had played a sweet little game with him that let him see yet another, more special, kind of profit yielded by money: it helped pull back the curtains of illusion veiling our eyes. At this moment, he did indeed owe thanks to his millions. He felt shaken as he remembered the only person who could understand his feelings: Gogi. At the thought of his friend, he felt an unbearable burning in his body from head to toe.

  Gogi…! The one person whose warmth still radiated through the centre of Halilhan’s world! If he felt any sort of love for the others it was transitory. Perhaps the ugliness he now saw in Jülide’s face had nothing at all to do with money. Once he’d broken away from his bosom buddy, love had disappeared like a feeling stripped of its meaning, and all his pleasure in life had shrivelled up instantly, like a dried mushroom.

  He had money but what was the use of living without tansiyon?

  He was going to plug Rübeysa back into the circuit and give the soul of Gogi’s girl a real shock (he’d never felt jealous about Gogi’s feelings for her before this). And if she tried playing coy about answering Gogi’s letter, he’d just go and count out some bills into her palm. He drove the Volvo over to the cemetery, rinsed off his heart with a few prayers, and then started dreaming up the world’s greatest wedding for Gogi and the girl.

  He was firmly resolved to waylay the girl on the street. ‘Lady,’ he’d ask, ‘just what are your feelings toward my friend?’ He knew why the girl had sunk into silence and, in fact, understood her very well. Gogi should never have started off from space. A man whose entire life could be summarised as LEP (low energy point) and HEP (high energy point) hadn’t a hope or a prayer of injecting romantizm into a woman whose only thoughts were of marriage. NORTH MOUNTAIN, SOUTH MOUNTAIN/BLACK HOLE, OH BLACK HOLE – it was these topics Gogi wanted to talk about endlessly. So even if they did happen to get married, Gogi and the woman would be incompatible. Naturally, then, any children they had would be crippled. Even as he dreamed on about Gogi’s wedding, he could picture his friend’s threadbare future. Gogi’s life in this world was doomed to remain a code-book unless humankind solved all the mysteries and started living in space.

  Halilhan got so wonderfully caught up in his concerns about Gogi, that he started to believe they’d already made up. He felt such a deep bond with his friend that he could forgive himself on Gogi’s behalf for having hurt him, and even take on the part of Gogi himself. Nevertheless, he wasn’t brave enough to step up to Gogi with an unclouded face and kiss him on the cheek. Before talking to his friend Halihan needed to prime himself with some booze.

  After leaving the cemetery, he therefore started to drink, which naturally weakened his will power. Also, the burden of his emotions made it hard for him to figure out directions. He felt so utterly alone and despondent that he couldn’t even manage to ask himself, ‘Are we heading straight or just right and left?’ So he shot off into emptiness, sailing toward a luminous object that glided by as swiftly as a star. His sight was suddenly shattered and blown to bits by fiery arrows that streamed through the dark.

  Hanging over him, written on the air, was that fiery fruit, the vision of fatal love.

  Consciousness drained away from him in waves as his spellbound cells were startled into transformation. In an instant he took on a fish-like spirit. Swimming with a mad elation, he lowered the Volvo’s window.

  It was no dream but a real woman!

  As if he were surfing down to her on the crest of a wave he rolled open the window. This had a strange effect on the woman, and without a second’s hesitation she shot into the Volvo like an arrow. Even in his booze-soaked state Halilhan knew that the woman was acting out of fear. But incapable of linking his instinct to his brain, he pressed his mouth to the woman’s ear and shouted, ‘Lady, would you care to accompany me to immortality?’ Shocked by Halilhan’s question, the woman started to cry.

  The ragged men had crossed the last circle around the city. Gulping up the light reflected off the snow and breathing in time together, they’d leapt lightly off into nothingness.

  Halilhan could hardly bear the sight of a weeping woman because it affected his psikoloji so strangely. Tears trickling down from a lady’s eyes instantly brought on an attack of homesickness. And a longing for home always made him hungry, even if he’d just eaten. No sooner would he think of his home than he’d be struck by unbearable hunger pangs (a situation he’d never been able to work out). For a while Halilhan just sat watching his companion, enthralled by this mystery that had been a part of his psikoloji since childhood.

  Poor woman! When Halilhan had first surfed towards her, she’d mistaken him for a relative. Not only was she weeping innocently but by the look of her clothes she was poor. In no way could he think of such a woman as a makina for seks, no matter what path she’d chosen in life. Leaning sideways, Halilhan whispered kindly, ‘Don’t y’know, bawling is something children do, it really doesn’t suit the female sex? Their faces immediately look spongy, like mushrooms. I’ll bet you anything on that.’ He felt a little pity, as well as compassion, for her. It was almost winter but she still had on summer clothes. ‘Why don’t you tell me your name?’ he asked tenderly. ‘I think I’ll take you out for a nice meal.’ He wanted her to be certain he had no dark, devious intentions but only wanted to be her friend.

  With deathless looks and trembling like wind through an emptiness, they were disappearing, defying any attempt to explain their worldly existence.

  ‘Keriman,’ murmured the woman. ‘Mersi,’ Halilhan replied. ‘And your family name, would it by any chance be Muhammed? Don’t be coy, now, tell me the truth. I’m not trying to test you or to catch you out, to my mind we’re friends. But I can’t help feeling curious concerning how you came into such a marvellously historical name.’ Then he jerked on the wheel and they took off, skidding for about thirty metres.

  After lurching over to one side, they dropped b
ack down onto all four wheels. ‘Çiçek!’ ‘My family name’s Çiçek,’ the woman repeated. ‘Is that so!’ Halilhan replied. ‘And what kind of flower might that be exactly? A daisy? ‘I’ve got a monster of an appetite for flowers – the reason being that I used to eat them a lot as a kid – but it seems that you’re being fickle, not wearing a flowery dress that I can pick the flowers from. So be straight with me, shouldn’t I give you a hard time because of that?’

  Keriman held her breath and drew back. It upset Halilhan to see her try to ponder out her fate. He knew he shouldn’t brag, but compared to most men, he was a super interpreter of the mimiks staged by women. Let no woman dare remind him of his manners! He hadn’t made a pass at her, so why was Keriman putting on those queenly airs and adopting the look of a prosecutor. To cut it short, he said, ‘If you’re going to be so foolish as to take me for a man without honour, let’s fix your problem, my girl. You can get out right here.’ He didn’t have time to waste on ignorance this late at night, with the tune of kadillaks humming through his head.

  Since she didn’t budge an inch, the woman was obviously very hungry. Halilhan bowed his head sadly when he thought of how queasy she must be feeling. To lots of people, there wasn’t a smidgen of difference between the world and a dark dungeon, and life was as ruthless as a stinking murderer. Tallying up what the future might hold for him, Halilhan warned Keriman, ‘Of course, if you do want to go off with me, you’ll have to bend to fate and do some fast cribbing on kültür.’ Then he launched into a silly song, ‘Drop by drop, fly the days by…da-da, da-da, da-da…’ He had to find a way to squeeze a little laughter out of this unlucky woman.

  Their showpiece lives, spun as they were from life’s far-off reflections, were becoming veils for their vanishing.

  If only he could comfort her a little…then, tonight, in return, she might bring a tiny bit of love into their lives. Once unimaginably beautiful feelings had swept her off her feet, then, following the twist of fate that had led to their meeting, her bad luck would take a marvellous turn. Her worries about making a living would end and her life would become sweet, a real paradise. All she had to do was flash on the ‘yes’ light, then no man could resist renting her a place on the spot. Halilhan could easily furnish and decorate such a place for her, setting up the most modern lifestyle imaginable by flipping the millions through his hands. He dared not tell her how he felt, afraid she’d think he was crazy. And his fear was well-founded, because there was no way she could have imagined the loneliness of the man in whose car she was now sitting. To gain that sort of insight she’d have had to study the concepts of time and fate. What a shame that, though she had a very beautiful face, her type wouldn’t even notice the sort of feelings she’d sparked off in him.

  Devil Hüseyin’s place!

  ‘This is one of my favourite hang-outs. If I weren’t so tired, I’d wait on you myself. The fact is, I seem to have been poisoned – in my heart, not my body. I’m telling you this so you won’t feel guilty. Just now, you’re not a burden to me either materially or morally. You’ve got to know that. Some time ago, dear lady, I met a woman even my enemies would agree was truly delicious! I thought, for her I could set the world on fire. As life goes on it takes some strange twists and turns. “How so?” you may ask. Well, in our world there are certain karakters who talk politics to swear at each other. You’ll notice it’s when they’re angry that they use politics. I’ve noticed something in myself like that. I use women to fall in love. I just got back from seeing my ex, and I’m truly ashamed to say how she has turned out. What she’s been hiding from me, I think…what I’ve had to face up to…is the fact that the woman I love is running a brothel. It wasn’t anything I actually saw, it just hit me like a lightning flash. I have to put faith in my instincts. The only compass you have to go by is your own instinct as it comes to light. I’m a man who doesn’t know any other way to make sense of how, in no time at all, a beautiful woman can fall from grace and become the spitting image of a witch. I’d like to laugh off this great love of mine, but I can’t. So I just tell myself, a moment comes along when you’re far away even from yourself. We’ve just met, I know, but I tell you this as a man well trained in the ways of love. With men like me you can either go out to eat or meet on the sly, but you’ll never get hurt, just please keep that in mind…’

  Keriman was glugging down her first ever alcoholic drink, and it hit her hard. A mist of confusion had clouded her country-girl looks. Halilhan had only to strike a match and she’d surrender herself to him at once. The fiery fruit squeezed into Devil Hüseyin’s feast had cast its spell.

  The mirage the dispossessed have used for hundreds of years to shield themselves from the world is the life others possess.

  When Halilhan zoomed in on Keriman’s face to try and read her feelings, a shiver ran down his spine as he was struck by the beauty of her eyes. As he became aware how much those eyes resembled his mother’s, he was overcome by a delicious fever that weakened his limbs. The thrill gripping his soul sent sweat pouring from the roots of his hair, and his breath, like a gust of wind, seized his churning heart and bore it off to a shining void.

  He drew his chair close to Keriman’s, and they took a long leave of absence from the real world. ‘Don’t dock up on me like a ferry boat or I’ll whop you one!’ said Keriman, mixing laughter into her words, and they could never remember (not until they died, that is) how the business was finally wrapped up.

  Smooching passionately in the Volvo, they must have closed their eyes to the fact that they were soaring off toward death’s horizons. They probably didn’t wake up even when the Volvo hit the earth and ploughed up its crust. A second after Keriman’s head smashed into the glove compartment, her face was awash with blood, and the rear right wheel bounded off down the asphalt like a dream, spinning merrily into the sea.

  With one eye on the wheel that was rolling away, Halilhan cradled Keriman in his arms and hailed a cab. Keriman imagined they must be heading for a hospital since the trip seemed to last a whole year. She dozed off in Halilhan’s arms, badgered by the many thoughts darting through her mind.

  After poisoning himself with alcohol and causing the crash of his life, Halilhan headed off straight to Gogi, the only creature in the world he could turn to for shelter.

  Keriman came screaming back to life when she opened her eyes suddenly to the gravestones in Gogi’s garden. She thought she’d dropped down into hell and started struggling to scramble back out. Gogi rushed outside, but when he saw Keriman he felt ashamed of his vest and pyjama pants and fled back into the house without waiting to hear Halilhan’s factual explanation: ‘I figured that no one but you would be able to treat this lady.’

  Keriman was scared to death as Halilhan hugged Gogi and sobbed, ‘C’mon, Gogi, admit it, her eyes look just like my mother’s, don’t they?’ She slipped into the back room where, squeezing under the sofa and backing herself up against the wall, she lay hidden, holding her breath.

  Up by sunrise, Gogi groomed himself thoroughly, from his hair down to his tie, socks and shoes. After seeing that Halilhan had passed out and was snoring away, he began to search for Keriman. The early morning prayer call was just starting up when he raised the edge of the sofa cover. He bent to peer underneath and heard from the far end: ‘Save me, brother, and I’ll die for you!’ Gogi dropped the cloth cover and stepped back, propping himself up against the door in deep distress. Not even in the movies would you see a scene like this!

  After catching his breath, Gogi mustered up enough courage to call out to Keriman. ‘Lady sister,’ he cried out, ‘don’t be afraid, we’re safe people, we have our morals. Come out of there and lie down on the sofa.’ The sight of this woman in hiding troubled his conscience deeply. He also felt guilty for deserting Halilhan, his soul mate, just when he had been totally at a loss about handling his money.

  They protected everything about themselves by dressing up in the echo of voices that didn’t belong to them.

  G
ogi had experienced plenty of blood and wounds during his stint in the morgue. He administered first aid to Keriman in the most polite way imaginable, carefully wiping the blood off her face and dressing her cuts. But before he left, he reproved her, saying, ‘It surprises me that you were scared of Halilhan. There’s a strong spiritual tie between us. If you’re not one of those who do happen to exist but aren’t truly living, you’ll never be able to see what a gentle and caring man he is. Anyway you look at it, he’s a jewel; as for karakter, he’s an ekol of his own.’

  Given the unclear state of affairs, it was anybody’s guess what their lines would be when the curtain arose the next morning. Each of them looked a bit wounded when they sat down to breakfast at the table Gogi had laid out facing the gravestones. Unable to shake off the mystery of the night before, they sipped their tea with prayer-like devotion. ‘I believe this is the first time we have had breakfast together at your place,’ Halilhan ventured to Gogi, trying to spark off a friendly chat. After a few moments of awkward silence, they slowly opened up. As Gogi would say, there’s no getting around it, in every human being is a box of hallowed light that hungers after friendship.

  A wonder surpassing all known bounds!

  (To Gogi’s mind, this idea of the box of hallowed light inside every human being was related to the newly discovered ‘Orgon’ enerji. The sort of intimacies that defied all explanation emanated from that 0 [zero] point within each of us which existed outside of time’s bounds and had nothing to do with the concepts of ‘near’ and ‘far’. Gogi believed that any matter we take up in our hands is energy, all things are in a process of change, and human beings themselves are massed forms of energy. Where there’s no matter, there’s no ‘place’. Nor is there remoteness or proximity. The zero point may also be viewed as that ‘place’ where our sense of Allah can be found.)