The Time Regulation Institute Read Online Free PDF Page B

room. I’m quite sure she cried all night. And she was right to do so; for if Halit Ayarcı was my benefactor, he was her best friend. Just considering the prospect of a memoir will have provoked in her, as in me, a grief that matches the occasion.
    I lay in bed, thinking, for quite some time. “Hayri Irdal,” I said to myself, “you have seen so much of the world, and you have witnessed so much as well. Although just sixty years old, you have lived the lives of several men combined. You have en-dured all manner of suffering and the misery of being shunned. You have bounded up the steps to your future, light-footed andnever faltering. You’ve tackled problems that no one given only strength or time could ever solve. All this is thanks to Halit Ayarcı. He’s the one who rescued you from the asylum. All the enemies in your life, all those who plagued your thoughts and peace of mind—he turned them into friends. Once you were a man who saw in the world around you only cruelty, poverty, and misery, but suddenly you found yourself amid the noblest of pleasures and a happiness that ought to be the province of all creatures on earth, and you came to understand the nobility of the human soul. You discovered the meaning of intimate love, for it was he who revealed to you the exquisite beauty in the face of your wife, Pakize. You assumed that the great Lord had sent you a rabble of pitiful creatures bent on making your life miserable, when suddenly he contrived for you the gift and joy of God’s children. Must you not do everything in your power for the memory of this good, pure, and—in every sense of the word—exalted friend? Can you even contemplate the possibility of him sinking into oblivion, his memory buried in a pile of slander and scorn? Think about it for a moment: What was your life before you met Halit Ayarcı? And what are you now? Think about your house in Edirnekapı and the creditors who turned up at your door day after day, even pouncing upon you in the street. Remember how you once had to struggle to get hold of even a single piece of bread. Then behold the comfort and happiness of your life today!
    II
    I mentioned my life prior to meeting Halit Ayarcı. But can one really call it a life? If to live is to endure endless pain and destitution and to suffer humiliation so deep that it afflicts each and every fiber of one’s being, if it means fluttering ceaselessly against the walls of a cage that will never open, then there is no doubt that I and others like me did “live,” in the fullest sense of the word. But if the word encompasses a wealth of spirit and possibility, a modicum of rights, a few rare moments of innerbliss, with a dash of trust in the outside world, and a sense of fairness and balance in dealing with one’s fellow man and suchlike—well, then things are quite different. You might have noticed that I make no mention whatsoever of helping others or doing anything constructive. Until I met Halit Ayarcı, I was never even aware of such pleasures. Today, however, my life has meaning. I shall leave behind a work that I believe will more or less secure me a place in the annals of history. For ten years, I acted as assistant head manager of one of the most innovative and beneficial organizations in the world. I helped not only my own immediate family but also my close and distant relatives and my friends, even those who had once betrayed me, by providing them with employment and a sense and source of well-being. In this regard I suppose it would suffice to highlight our contribution to urban development through the construction of a new district near Suadiye, as well as the services our institute provided to its workers, most of whom were in fact relatives of either myself or Halit Ayarcı. For as soon as the institute was established, Halit made the very important decision—from which we never strayed—that half the management