Istanbul Noir - Mustafa Ziyalan [49]
“I was, son. But there’s no need, I already know about Esra’s predicament. Like you said, I sit at the window all day, and I’m not blind. But anyway, my claim remains.”
“What claim?”
“About heaven.”
“You mean, even if she’s a slut?”
“What exactly are huris supposed to do, Tufan?”
Tufan tried to recall what he’d been told in religion class back in school, or the things he’d heard during his childhood. He hadn’t had anything to do with God for some time. After his father died and he’d gotten the apartment all to himself, he never went to prayer, not even on religious holidays. He could hardly remember a thing. But okay, the duty of huris …
“That’s exactly it, Tufan.”
“What, you mean about them being some kind of whores, right?”
Ekber Amca burst out laughing.
“Nooo! What kind of language is that now?”
Well, what then?
“Theirs is a holy duty.”
“Oh, so you mean if she spreads her legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry here, she’s a slut, but over there …”
“Slut’s a term we use, son. A label we slap onto people when it suits us. Look up. We can’t know who’s what in His eyes, now, can we? Look, for example, back in Sumer, it was the responsibility of priestesses.”
“Now you’re messing with me.”
“It’s historical fact.”
“Well,” said Tufan, laughing, “then you’re right. akınbakkal’s crawling with huris.”
“And handsome gılmans too.”
“If it’s like you say, then yes.” Tufan was in a good mood now. He’d forgotten all about the police. But wait, what about the abundance, all that milk and honey in heaven?
“You said it yourself.”
“Said what?”
“That akınbakkal could only be a heaven for rich people. I mean,” he said, spreading his arms out, “you want abundance, well, here you have it.”
“Like that abundance is for us.”
“Why not? You get your share, don’t you?”
“Selling drugs?”
“However. The fact of the matter is that there is abundance here, and you benefit from it.” The old man laughed again, then stopped and shook his head. “No, I haven’t lost my marbles from loneliness, or from sitting at the window all day. But, well, yeah, when you’ve got nothing else to do, you think … a lot.”
“So, you mean you thought and you pondered, long and hard, and you found heaven, here?”
“Not yet. But it’s around here, somewhere. Or at least, it seems like it to me. Look around you: the sea in front of us. Look at those lights coming from the islands, like a necklace of jewels there on the dark sea. Where else can you find such beauty? This is one of the most beautiful seas on earth.”
“You mean the Sea of Marmara?”
“Of course.”
“That sea in front of us? The one teeming with germs?”
“It didn’t used to be like that.”
That’s right, it didn’t. Tufan remembered going swimming here back when he was five or six years old. Right over there was the sailing club. And a little farther down, Suadiye Beach. A long time ago. Before they filled in the shore and built the road.
“Besides,” said Ekber Amca, “they’ve reopened Caddebostan Beach.”
Tufan laughed again. That’s right, they had reopened it. And the masses had rushed in to get their feet wet. The municipality claimed that the pollution level had fallen. Bullshit. Just pulling the wool over the people’s eyes. But Tufan didn’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary.
“All right, fine. A beautiful sea before us. What else?”
“Tufan, you ever walk around?”
“What do you mean?”
“Here. Not on the avenue, in the streets.”
“Like, when?”
“Anytime. Spring, summer, winter, whenever. Tell me, when was the last time you took a walk though the side streets of akınbakkal? Those treelined roads, quiet, calm, so far from the chaos of the avenue, with the occasional breeze caressing your hair?