mornings with freshly drawn well water; we reentered the house in the dead of
night; and it suddenly seemed that the elongated shadows we were casting by
the light of the oil lamp belonged to others。 Most frightening of all was the
horror that overcame us like a silent act of piety; as we solemnly washed his
bloodied face and changed his clothes so that I might deceive myself into
believing that my father had died at his appointed time; “Hand me his sleeve
from underneath;” Hayriye had whispered to me。
As we removed his bloody clothes and undergarments; what aroused our
amazement and awe was the vitality and whitish color of my father’s skin
illuminated by candlelight。 Because there were many more threatening things
to frighten us; neither of us was shy about looking at my father’s sprawling
naked body covered with moles and wounds。 When Hayriye went back
upstairs to fetch clean undergarments and his green silk shirt; unable to
restrain myself; I looked down there and ed at
what I’d done。 After I’d dressed my father in fresh clothes and carefully
cleaned the blood off his neck; face and hair; I embraced him with all my
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strength; and burying my nose in his beard; I inhaled his scent and cried at
length。
For those of you who would accuse me of lacking feeling; or even of being
guilty; let me hasten to tell of two further instances when I broke down crying:
1。 When I was tidying the upstairs room so the children wouldn’t discover
what had happened and I brought a seashell he’d used as a paper burnisher to
my ear; as I’d done as a child; only to discover that the sound of the sea had
diminished。 2。 When I saw that the red velvet cushion my father sat upon
often over the last twenty years—so much so it’d bee part of his rear
end—had been torn apart。
When everything in the house; excluding the damage that was beyond
repair; was put back in order; I mercilessly denied Hayriye’s request to spread
her roll…up mattress out in our room。 “I don’t want the children to get
suspicious in the morning;” I explained to her。 But; to be honest; I was as eager
to be alone with my children as I was to punish her。 I entered my bed but was
unable to sleep for a long while; not because I was preoccupied with the
horror of what had happened; but because I was considering all that yet lay in
store。
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I AM RED
I appeared in Ghazni when Book of Kings poet Firdusi pleted the final line
of a quatrain with the most intricate of rhymes; besting the court poets of