The Hindu Business Line : Passion on the Bosphorous

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 Café Kundera are indicative of hope from the youth on both sides.

Asya’s companions at the Café 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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