After tended to go to t told me tor at tidings, I to discover a messenger from tan’s contest. Fine, t beautiful ell me hem.
Ratained my reserve, and simply invited ting at t for a moment: t beautiful even exist t I mig. I can draeeds, large Mongolian full of stone to a building site, but no one beautiful urally, by “t beautiful Our Sultan meant t splendid of t ed times in Persia, in keeping why?
Of course, t me to old me to dra nobody’s picture could compete t an? Our Sovereign, despite tists, knows
full I am t talented of urists. rations.
My ly and angrily sprang to action as if ing to rise above all of tions, and in one concentrated effort, I drerue ip of its see one like treet or in battle. eary, but controlled…Next, in t of anger, I daster. None of turists of ts to drahe palace said, “One is enough.”
to grab t and leave, but I restrained these horses.
If I illustrate t to, t give me t arnisopped to t ,” I said to t inside and returned Venetian gold pieces, o the boy: he was afraid, his eyes widened. “You’re as brave as a lion,” I said.
I removed one of tebooks of forms t I kept ly made copies of t beautiful illustrations t I’d seen over t to mention t treasury trees, dragons, birds, ers and is, if you gave en gold pieces, tebook is excellent, not for t to see tual ion, but for t to recall the fables of old.
Flipping to ted t of t picture , I placed a clean s of paper under tencil. I gradually sprinkled a liberal amount of coal dust on top, t so t ed tencil. t, dot by dot, ransferred tiful ire so t belo o behold.
I grabbed my pen. ition t suddenly ly connected ts rokes, suc as I t is,” I said. “t beautiful one of this.”
So t explain to Our Sultan o draure, I gave erfeit coins. I implied t I o catc of my ell a good miniaturist by to be t miniaturist, it’s not enougo make t also convince Our Sultan and s t you are indeed t miniaturist.
hing more.
I ILL BE CALLED A MURDERERere you able to determine wched a horse?
As soon as I ed to make a ition: ted to catcration. I’m perfectly a tc Effendi’s body. But I or style by ain of ting a ne of completely different trained” myself and became another.
But o fit tyle of tist thin himself?
Suddenly and error, I felt tence of t triump miniaturist c, I was ashamed.
I quickly kne I be able to remain at ing outside, I reets. As Se in s, in order for a genuine roam ire life remaining anyer roaming from city to city for sixty-seven years, ired of running and surrendered to ter miniaturists attain blindness, or tarily acyle, ions of style.
I in Bayazid, ty square of t, amid t aromas of soup and pudding sing me in surprise; I passed a grocer’s sed fisaken only by colors, I o a ions s of a lamp, stared passionately, t one’s beloved, at tic, t ed from ter, and at mounds of broimes I to put everyto my moutimes I to fill a page ure of all creation.
I o tomac ually, of te. It il midnigo t it. Inside unates dressed like ic cers whose
sorroo slip from to distant paradises, as s; to folloiquette; and a young gentleman ance from ting. -filled cabbage dolma into my bo and topped it off red pepper flakes before taking a seat beside tleman.
Every nigting, dying, o our necks in misery…Some nig er me, but I kno possibly rise from the grave.
tleman, en to a conversation. as t to t consistency, my stuffed cabbage is quite to my liking.” I asked about ly graduated from a miserable ty-coin college and been taken into Arifi Pasronage as a clerk. I didn’t ask t, at tate, at t cead to be at treet kitceeming for a moment.
“My name is Bi and tabriz. I’ve painted t magnificent pictures, t incredible masterpieces. In Persia and Arabia, in every Muslim book arts ions are made, t me for looks real, just like the work of Bihzad.”
Of course, t tings reveal t painting, as you knoe for ts, my is:ALIF:Painting brings to life for the eyes.
LAM: ters ting to t it serves the mind.
MIM:Consequently, beauty is t the mind already knows.
Did te of tand tracted ning inspiration from t at all. ted at t of a -of-ty silver coins a day—today you can buy ty loaves of bread amount—you still kno ty-coin kno me explain. I said:
“I’ve painted everytely everyt at ted togetle and Prop of God ascending t of to Cemple to scare off a monster stirring up torms; a masturbating sultan spying on ties of ening to a lute; a young ler sure of victory after learning all or’s moves, only to be defeated in tan at tor trick up ely decorated y of lovers, from t embarrassed to t crass, to look at eacone by stone construction of palaces; t by torture of ty; t of eagles; playful rabbits; treacigers; cypress and plane trees t ing poets; feasts to commemorate victory; and men like you hem.”
tertaining and was smiling.
“Your ’ve ,” I continued. “tory I love from Sadi’s Garden. You knoed from t and goes off to roam tedly, a dangerous-looking stranger ee appears before o a panic and reacing your arro you recognized me? Am I not to ed a imes emperament and disposition, nay, by color even. So t you pay no attention to us, ts under your command, even ter h such frequency?““
tnut and ure covered even t of readers and tory: ty and mystery of tion, attention, interest and compassion; if you to live in t paradise ually see ttending to its colors, details and irony.
ty-coin once entertained and friged to drop I didn’t give he chance.
“ter of masters Bied t picture,” I said. “For a urists stopped imitating t of Biion and urists, including myself, can draure of a horse?”
“I once sa a great teaced to my late hoja.”
I didn’t knorange Creatures seriously, and droerms ture copy. I came up ernative, and t o drop my spoon and quit ter idied up and doing anytened to the silence.
Later, I removed t it it upon table. Next, I placed tration and t, I attempted to drarait in cime, patiently. Mucer, resemble my face in t tears ers t Enis? I to be one of t if I illustrated in t state of mind, I could perrait.
Later still, I cursed ters and Enis I’d done and began looking into to begin another drawing.
Ultimately, I found myself reets again, and t t even sure o come ered, I felt suc about mingling urists and calligrap s accumulated on my forehead.
I sensed t tcing eac, I could plainly see t. I seated myself in trying to beurally. At time my eyes sougers, my dear bret one time, I’d served as Master Osman’s apprentice. I ain eaco dra desperate efforts, taking test arranged by ts quite seriously.
toryteller effendi yet begun ure even been . I o socialize he coffeehouse crowd.
So be it t me be frank oo, made jokes, told indecent stories, kissed my companions on ted gestures, spoke in double entendres, innuendos and puns, asked ant masters er I really so far as to roug, kno a part of my soul remained mercilessly silent .
Nonet only succeeded in using figurative language to compare my o , to bruses, newel
posts, door knockers, leeks, minarets, lady fingers in rees, and to tself, I ty boys to oranges, figs, small ries, pilloo tiny ant conceited of to compare ool—quite amateuris any self-confidence I migo a s and a porter’s pole. Furto old miniaturists’ dicks t ices; master calligrapain place (“t disgusting nook”); into tead of rose petals; t great masters of tabriz and Siful boys to be found there.
At times it seemed t one of ts orious, leaving t I’d finally forgotten t silent and loveless aspect of myself. At times I remembered tions of my co be myself along e all till a silence left me suffering and isolated in t of the crowd.
and merciless spirit—it a spirit but a jinn—an? But t by tigated by Satan, on trary, by t pure and simple stories t drove into one’s soul. Under told tories, t me peace. A tall, pale, yet pinkised calligrapice focused o mine and ening to me attention.
tories on Blindness and Style turist told to Ease trary to ual a discovery of European masters. to t master Jemalettin of Kazvin. After tall eser Jemalettin content to simply join ts ed to embellisory nessed master, les ever tle, to time. But before clasing to enemy cannon-fire. ter, like all genuine virtuosos, ing blindness as t t deficiency. ained t turist ed not in ted, but in tellect and t, and furt rue pictures, scenery and essential and flaed, green-eyed calligrapice to whom he
dictated exactly o dra appeared to o er ter’s deat of o draed by tice into tively entitled tion of e ime in tesy of neions and copies, rators, apprentices and tudents and ice books, after tall esion erated and t style of illustration overtook all of Persia, Jemalettin and s ten. Doubtless, ttin R 1za of ’s violent criticism of t t to be burned, urn of events. Kemalettin R 1za claimed t none of ttin of Kazvin in e,” since ter er nessed an actual battle scene, no matter reasures of tall esan Me t to Istanbul, it s occasionally certain of tories appear in ots in Istanbul and even t some ructed therein.
LAMIn and Ser miniaturist nearing t blind from a lifetime of excessive labor, it only be taken as a sign of t master’s determination, but of t master’s alent. time in e uation t compelled quite a feo actually induce blindness in tly recalled artists Abu Said, tamerlane’s grandson from t, introduced a furt in er as and Samarkand: tice of paying greater o tation of blindness to blindness itself. Black Veli, tisan urist could see true talent resided in a sigurist y-seven by das came to tip of so muc t tistic ceremony for e storytellers recite stories to support ter’s efforts, t Black Veli lengtsoever among to Miran Sation; ter, ter declared t a miniaturist possessed of talent, regardless of Alla master miniaturists, ted: t no sucion called “style.” t master Black Veli ated by all Muslim miniaturists for 110 years. As for Black Veli
er t of Abu Said and to Kazvin, er eful attempts to refute t declares, “t equal.” For t blinded, then killed by young Nizam Shah’s soldiers.
I elling a tory, describing to tty-eyed calligrapice master Bied to leave , er being taken forcibly to tabriz, urist’s style yle of tales I’d er Osman, but I became preoccupied oryteller. o tell Satan’s story tonight?
I o say, “It an an yle. It an from est.”
I closed my eyes and drean on toryteller’s roug of paper as my desired. As I dreoryteller and ant, otists and curious onlookers giggled and goaded me on.
Pray, do you tyle, or do I o to the wine?
I, SAtAN
I am fond of to a calm sea at daed appearance of a an open and patience. I believe in myself, and, most of time, pay no mind to me. tonigo to set my miniaturist and calligrapraig certain gossip, lies and rumors.
Of course, because I’m to believe t opposite of you’re smart enougo sense t te of alrue, and t doubt me, you’re astute enougo take an interest in my my name, imes, is one of t frequently cited.
All rig me begin me in trut it be kno y. For tyle. It pain t I’m belittled in t t is.
It’s true, God created man before ted us to prostrate ourselves before tion. Yes, it ’s ten in “ts” cer: Adam as all of you are familiar. So I didn’t bow before man. And God found my behavior, well, “proud.”
“Lo’s beyond to scness here.”
“Permit me to live until Judgment Day,” I said, “until the dead arise.”
ed during tire time I empt ts of Adam, o tell you t o o say about tter.
As some t time Almig. According to to test ty’s subjects by attempting to destroy t, be led astray, o later fill t I did e important: If all men to ened, and ts governments could never function on virtue alone; for in our ue and sin as necessary as rectitude. Given t I am to to live until Judgment Day?)—to be branded “evil” and never be granted my due is my roment. Men like tic Mansur, t Gazzali, aken to conclude in tings t if tually committed t God desires; furtain t good and evil do not exist because everyt of him.
Some of te appropriately been burned to deat, and ty for drao eac Alla ted sucies into ts; t all by themselves.
to my second complaint: I am not t of tion, lust, lack of often, out of t any instigation, deception or temptation on my part. s of certain learned mystics to absolve me of any evil migoo is tion t I am t, s t tempts every fruit monger s rotten apples upon omers, every cells a lie, every fa find anyt commit grave sins. But some all of you understood me in t.
Let tand you, so you can dupe t suggest. true. But let
me remind you, I caused me to fall out y in t place. Even t’s been recorded in numerous books tens of times t I’ve successfully tempted t-kindling guise of a beautiful urist bretonig in picturing me as a missailed and gruesome creature ruding moles?
Like so, t of tter: figurative painting. An Istanbul street mob incited by a preac mention so boter on, condemns trary to tting in eacing o t of musical instruments; and t some of turists among us ing in tyle. For centuries, countless accusations me, but none so far from truth.
Let’s start from ts caugo eat of t and forgets about ter began. No, it doesn’t begin y, eitter of ing man to us and expecting us to boo e appropriate and decisive refusal—t fitting t, after creating me from fire, o bo of t mud? Orut, t it and fear t anyt just remain bet. Fine, never mind instance; I agree, you’re justified in being afraid, and I’ll forget about tion and te. But t—yes indeed, something I’ll always be proud of: I never bowed down before man.
t ters are doing, and t satisfied ing and displaying every single detail doo ting ear lemen, priests, s and even fall bets. tists also dare to situate ts in ter of t to be s like idols before e ourselves. Is man important enougo being draail, including reet o man’s false perception t to tance, man tively be usurping Alla ter of ty and omnipotent, ter t surely it’s absurd on t to credit me raits; I, rate myself before man suffered untold pain and isolation; I, of curses. It o s.
I comment on t, but my for men heir
eagerness to s for money or ote and me: as it not You o regard t ter of t devoted servants to be depicted in tyle of ters. I kno as tting You entirely. And I’m the one who’ll be blamed.
I convince you t I don’t take all of to ? Naturally, by standing firmly on my o despite centuries of merciless stonings, curses, damnings and denouncements. If only my angry and sire of condemning me, it y ed me life until Judgment Day, y or seventy years. If I o advise t tend te some, because it an speaking, opposite and refuse coffee entirely, or , stand on try pouring it into their asses.
Don’t laug’s not tent, but t t counts. It’s not urist paints, but yle. Yet tle. I o conclude ory, but it’s gotten quite late. tongued master storyteller ell tory of love er tomorro.
I, S my fatelling me incompre errifying t I . S omacing y o get out of bed and leave t hem.
I crossed tly opened Black’s door. In t cast by my candle, I couldn’t see e mattress o reactress.
my of truck Black’s weary, unso as Or curled up like a pill bug, and he expression of a sleeping maiden.
“to myself. ant, so mucranger, t I actually to do suc’d be if I killed believe s of me, neit childlike expression.
Prodding , I led more ted and excited, if only for a moment, just as I’d ely come to his
senses, I said:“I dreamed I sao me: You he one who killed him…”
“eren’t ogether was murdered?”
“I’m a you kne my fat home all alone.”
“I did not. You t it. And as for er idea than I.”
“times I feel an inner voice is about to tell me une. I open my mout voice mig as in a dream, I make no sound. You’re no longer the good and naive Black of my childhood.”
“t naive Black her.”
“If you’ve married me to take revenge on my fat like you.”
“I knoo bed you airs for a wing ”Black, Black, my ass’s crack,“ loud enough so I could hear.”
“You sing,” I said, at first them, I’ll kill you.”
“Get into bed,” o death.”
“Maybe I’ll never get into your bed. Maybe ake by getting married. timacy before tsteps before I fell asleep? It’s not surprising, eps for years. t one. ake care to guard yourself against it.”
I saern in Black’s eyes t I kne be able to scare him.
“Of t struggling not to be uno protect my cubbornly trying to prove yourself. It’s not because you love me.”
on at lengt only of me in desolate
caravansaries, on barren mountains and during snourned to my former imes it seems t my former return at any time. It’s not t I fear being caug by t as soon as we embrace he door.”
e s fig outside tyard gate. t I mig my candle able nor turn around and o my room to be old myself t I leave til I ely convinced t Black soever to do h.
“You belittle us,” I said to Black. “You’ve groiful.”
“My respected Siously. It pleased me t none of true. I’d do anything for you.”
“t out of bed, and .”
I ing?
“I cannot,” , gestured to t and gown.
, but it annoyed me any .
“Before my fatered t y—as t us to kno is.”
I rembling, not out of anger, but because of t seized my legs, back and neck.
“Get into bed and be my wife,” he said.
“’s going to take some time before ’s not rigo stay in th you.”
“to you and Ester Osman tention on the horses.”
“Master Osman in peace. No you’re depending on Master Osman to find must be causing agony.”
ly leapt out of bed and came to even move. But contrary to ed, snuffed out my candle ood tch blackness.
“Your fatell me noer t you’d be able to love me, t you’d be able to make room in your for me. then you’ve been running away from loving me.”
“I o marry you,” I whispered.
t pity, I sensed o Fuzuli it.
“If I could love you, I would’ve loved you when I was a child,” I whispered again.
“tell me ty of t’ve spied on all turists he murderer?”
I ill keep ter all, my husband.
“I’m cold.”
Did I actually say t remember. e began to kiss. Embracing ill ook y tongue into my moutears, my gorembling and even c; but timid Srained let myself go or drop t t of my fatching me, and of my former husband, and my children asleep in bed.
“ted. I pus out into the hall.