𝐌𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡
The night knows my wakefulness and my sublimation after the inward dilemmas. How the most read childhood poem ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ befriends me in the night of internal chaos and insomnia, how the very childhood dreams rejoin to commemorate the lofty earlier days, how the uncorrupted mind takes a look at the underhand darkness of the sophistication, how the first destruction of the world chases after me are known by the timeless origin. The juxtaposition of ecstasy and bloodcurdling senses accompany me in the brutal solitude. The first invention of light, the first creation of the universe, the first proposal to Eve by Adam pursue me to make my eternal being onlooker. The anguishes of repugnancy and the felicitations of reflectiveness make my being bizarre. I want to take a snapshot to make the moment tangible, but, camera is not allowed there. The mighty space calls and hums in such a melodious note that my heart does not want to be confined to the worldly subject. The skyline of Bengal, the nightlife of Arab Bedouin, the morning light of Andalusia, the recitation of Rumi during the high noon by a middle class European and the dance or opera by an American or African maiden make my day manifesting.
But, the day is only explicable by the night. When, an Azerbaijani Muslim boy is calling and saying to his beloved Christian girl,
“Neynim aman, aman, Seni mene vermezler”
“Your parents will not give you to me, let you marry me, My leyli, please!”
The word “Aman (Secure me)” seems to be similar with my lamentation that time as I am also seeking the eternal asylum to Someone to be protected from the rotten, bastard and contaminated brains. As there is no love, no understanding of divinity and compassions, I have become a refugee to the eternity. I want to conceal myself so that I can be invulnerable and not a product of microeconomics.
I curse the grandmother of the girl who is responsible for this separation. The folk boy becomes my friend. Then he makes me acquainted with a Turkish, who has been gone through the same case. We continue our conversation in the majestic moonlight and share our acute miseries. We do not take nepenthe; the deep inner state of knowing enchants us and makes us experienced wretched. Our nepenthe is our dreams, the first light of the universe or the first touch of the Christian girl or the first smiling face of our mothers, or the first birth of the mankind when Adam proposes Eve.
15 August 2024