Istanbul Was a Fairy Tale Read Online Free PDF Page B

gap between themselves and others. This was one of the reasons that brought reticence, a tabooed subject never to be referred to. However, as far as I can gather, it was one of those overwhelming love stories, an ineluctable love that had to be eventually sanctioned despite all hostile reactions and barriers, in which the parties involved vowed to each other to share their lives for better or for worse, resigning themselves to all the consequences, and, according to others, the parties involved, as castaways, were determined to lead each other toward each other’s unhappiness. It looked as if they had vowed allegiance to each other with full knowledge of the fact that the whole thing was going to end up in an interminable brawl. Their domicile had been in Feriköy for a time. Then they had moved to Harem, a locality alien to them and completely removed from their families, as if they wanted to give their banishment an official identity. Harem was, at the time, a district removed from the commotion of society, where a Jew would never think of residing. As far as I know, this had been Estreya’s idea. This was a choice that could be made perhaps but once in one’s lifetime with a view to determining one’s place in the world, in full anticipation of a bright future. For a bright future, yes, but at the same time, to impart on certain people the cry of revolt, the servitude of love, the call of a true love and the determination not to turn back, by having their bridges burned once and for all; to be able to stick to one’s determination to continue on this one-way journey by taking into consideration all untoward events looming ahead, wrapped in sentiments of abandonment and the call of self-affirmation. Apparently, this change of domicile had not been easy for Muhittin Bey, as he had always considered himself part and parcel of the ‘opposite coast’ of Istanbul. He would never cease to convey his passionate attachment to that place by telling people how he had given refuge to a childhood friend, Apostol, at his house during the September Incidents; he would also narrate this to his six-year-old nephew during a trip to Beyoğlu, holding him by the hand, showing him the devastation and the rabble caused by the events referred to the day before, saying to him: “A sight which you will never again witness in your lifetime!” thus reaffirming to himself, this evil act, perhaps with a faint hope of returning to those days of yore, years after his love affair.
    Yearnings, disappointments, simple joys . . . They had lived this love, in their confined space, learning in installments what forbidden love might bring or take away from them. Believing that they had earned their requited love at the cost of all the experiences they had had to face, in total disregard of other people, of traditions and of the suffering of those they had left behind, without hiding themselves behind other people and forsaking tradition. This determination explains why they had preferred to keep detached from their families. It goes without saying that patience was required in order to be able to properly understand their sentiments and lifestyle choices once seen in their proper places. Through the years, religious holidays had always been occasions of lost opportunity, visits home made tentatively, a timid attempt at reconciliation. Home, for them, was now different, having undergone a process of gradual transformation; such visits were approached with circumspection and suspicion. And so, they proved fruitless. Filling the void that had come about in the course of their absence had already become impossible. It was too late, the links forming the backbone had been severed at the base and the bridges had all been burned.
    Madame Estreya, had, according to an unwarranted assumption, been converted to Islam, assuming the name Yıldız. However, in the long run, it became clear that this had been a monstrous lie. This might also have been a stratagem to