PASSION ON THE BOSPHOROUS
Rasheeda Bhagat
Business Line
/01/25/stories/2008012550050200.htm
Jan 25 2008
India
Istanbul conjures up visions of grandeur… of domes and minarets… of
the Blue Mosque, the Hagia Sophia, the Ottoman empire and the
unbelievable treasures in the Topkapi Palace museum. But it also
reminds you of the long-prevailing tensions between the Turks and
the Armenians, the unimaginable oppression and violence to which
Armenians were subjected by the Turks.
The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak (Viking Penguin) makes a
bold attempt to admit and examine the persecution of Armenians,
a topic which puts most Turks in an immediate denial mode. Another
commendable feature that recommends the book is a strong underlying
feminist theme in the entire narrative, which is presented entirely
through the eyes of women.
It is basically the story of Zeliha Kagazci and her illegitimate
daughter Asya; the novel begins with Zeliha’s failed attempt to get
an abortion. A modern, educated and headstrong woman, she refuses to
tell her family about the father of the child in her womb.
The Kazanci family is cursed in that all the male members of the family
die young. After being guarded through his childhood through evil-eye
beads and amulets to break the voodoo, Mustafa, the 18-year-old
son of Gulsum, and Zeliha’s brother, is packed off from Istanbul to
Arizona. This leaves Gulsum with four daughters, each with a strong
idiosyncrasy, and the only male member, Pasha the Third, a tommy cat.
Shafak describes the four daughters’ idiosyncrasies with great delight
and delectable prose. For instance, Feride with her obsessive medical
disorders, was first diagnosed with a "stress ulcer". But nobody in
the family took the diagnosis seriously "because ‘stress’ had become
some sort of a catchphrase. As soon as it was introduced into Turkish
culture, ‘stress’ had been so euphorically welcomed by the Istanbulites
that there had emerged countless patients of stress in the city."
Banu has the art for clairvoyance – later this is used rather artfully
in the novel to take a peep into the past on the systematic execution
of Armenian intellectuals in 1915 by the Turkish administration. Zeliha
earns her living by running a tattoo parlour and is passionately
loved by Aram, who is Armenian.
Into this Istanbul family comes Armanoush, the daughter of an Armenian
father and an American mother, with the mission of getting to the
bottom of the mystery surrounding the execution of her Armenian great
grandfather in the 1915 event. As Mustafa is her stepfather, she
manages to trick the family into believing – the teenager would never
get the permission of her parents to travel alone to Istanbul where
Armenians cannot be ‘safe’ – that she is his guest. The resultant
feasts and Turkish delicacies to which she is treated is another
theme of the book – food.
Both Asya and Armanoush have their own private worlds to escape to.
The characters in Cafe Kundera, "a fictive place with fictive people",
where Asya hangs out with the oddest of friends and drowns carafes of
wine – oh yes, there are enough references in the book to reiterate
that Turkey is not a typical Islamic country where alcohol or strong
and independent women are frowned upon – are sketched with a light
and expert touch. Her companions include the Dipsomanic Cartoonist,
Non-nationalist Scenarist of Ultranationalist Movies, Exceptionally
Untalented Poet and Closeted-Gay Columnist.
Another reiteration of Turkey being a modern Islamic nation comes
when Gulsum frowns on her daughter Banu emerging one day, all of a
sudden, with a cherry red scarf on her head, which she dubs a "sorry
thing". She adds: "What kind of nonsense is that? Turkish women took
off the veil 90 years ago. No daughter of mine is going to betray the
rights the great commander-in-chief Ataturk bestowed on the women of
this country."
Armanoush’s private world is the Internet chat room where Armenians
of different hues talk about the Turks with deep resentment, and are
the only ones who are aware of Armanoush’s journey to Istanbul, and
how Turks react to her story. The openness with which Asya accepts
Armanoush’s mission, embraces her cause and introduces it and her to
her companions at Cafe Kundera are indicative of hope from the youth
on both sides.
Asya’s companions at the Cafe are incredulous about the pain, torture
and executions the Armenians were put through by their predecessors.
"That didn’t happen", is the first response, followed by: "But it
was a time of war. People died on both sides. Do you have any idea
how many Turks have died in the hands of Armenian rebels? Did you
ever think about the other side of the story? It’s tragic but we
need to understand that 1915 is not 2005." Somebody else calls it
"collective hysteria". Shafak was prosecuted by the Turkish government
for terming the massacre of Armenians ‘genocide’ in the book, but
later the charges were dropped.
The essence of the Armenian-Turkish conflict/mistrust is best captured
in the passage where a puzzled Armanoush asks Aram, Zeliha’s lover,
why he continues to stay on in Istanbul. His reply will find an echo in
the hearts of many Indian Muslims who are asked by the lunatic fringes
of the Sangh Parivar to migrate to Pakistan. "This city is my city. I
was born and raised in Istanbul. My family’s history in this city goes
back at least 500 years. Armenian Istanbulites belong to Istanbul,
just like the Turkish, Kurdish, Greek and Jewish Istanbulites do. We
have first managed and then badly failed to live together. We cannot
fail again."
He adds how he knows every street in the city. "I love strolling
these streets in the mornings, evenings, and then at night when I am
merry and tipsy. I love to have breakfasts with my friends along the
Bosphorous on Sundays. I love to walk alone amid the crowds. I am in
love with the chaotic beauty of this city, the ferries, the music,
the tales, the sadness, the colours, and the black humour."
Aram also explains the dangers of the Armenians not having Turkish
friends and being acquainted with the Turks only through the
"heartbreaking stories" they’ve heard through their grandparents.
Shafak’s prose is both gripping and evocative. Asya always resents
the fact that she is not as beautiful as her mother, and Zeliha "could
clearly see that the knowledge of her physical dullness, among other
things, was pricking at her daughter’s young heart. If only she could
tell that the beauties would only attract the worst guys. If only she
could make her understand how lucky she was not to be too beautiful;
that in fact both men and women would be more benevolent to her,
and that her life would be better off, yes, much better off without
the exquisiteness she now so craved."
The heartache, the bitter secret in Zeliha, the rebellion and
frustration within Asya at not knowing who her father is, till the
very end in a shocking detail, the grey and hazy world of Alzheimer’s
that grips 96-year-old Petit-Ma’s existence, the frustrations and
craziness that can engulf an all-female family are skilfully and
movingly sketched in this passionate book.
The imagery that Shafak invokes is simply brilliant. Having entered
the fifth stage of Alzheimer’s, Petit-Ma muddles up the most familiar
faces and facts in her life. "Last week, for instance, toward the
end of the afternoon prayer, as soon as she had bent down and put her
forehead on her little rug for the stage of sajda, she had forgotten
what to do next. The words of the prayer she had to utter had all of a
sudden fastened together into an elongated chain of letters and walked
away in tandem, like a black, hairy caterpillar with too many feet
to count. After a while, the caterpillar had stopped, turned around,
and waved at Petit-Ma from a distance, as if surrounded by glass walls,
so clearly visible yet unreachable."
How Zeliha, who knows nothing about namaz, or religion, brings her
out of this creepy predicament is both touching and funny!
This book is a compelling read for all feminists – men and women –
and those interested in understanding the various nuances of conflict
and conflict resolution. The frustrations and bitterness that can
dominate and overpower the lives of educated, intelligent, fiercely
independent and slightly crazy women unfold rather strikingly in
Shafak’s writing. After all, all of us have our crazy side, don’t we?
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