©Photo by Veton Vehapi

Gleanings of interior man

Small DIWAN of Urban Sufi form the Balkan
By NUN

Synopsis

Prelude for cosmic entity in recess of human heart

1. Inner language

2. Inner sound

3. Inner image

4. Inner self

5. NUN a background of a cosmic manifestation

6. Interview with NUN

7. Poetry a channel for self outpour

8. Calligraphy a crystallization of poetic fluid

9. Reconciliation with personal devil

10. Retreat in the recess of own heart

11. A blossom of self rebellion

12. Lucid manifestation of will

13. Gleanings of heart dilemmas

14. Tranquility and Love

15. Maturity of self

16. Daduchos- a torch barrier

17. Discovery of a sparkling truth

18. Now, here, healing

19. Appendix Mulberries- the lost script

 20. Conclusion

Prelude for cosmic entity in recess of human heart

In the name of Thy, with the name of Nun1, with the aim of Kun2

…for you writing the EMERALD TABLET of our century my dear NUN I do. For you
The birth is never-ending beginning
The sky speaks in the language of the Lover
Love is up, down, in the front, behind and sleeps in the heart
You are the beginning
Everything exists everything what mind take for granted
The pain is reimbursed with Love
Happiness is illuminated SEX
The lie undresses the truth as a bridegroom undresses the bride
The transformation of milk into blood is the most realistic Alchemy
The poetry blossoms in the heart and speaks as angel as black color on the white
The God speaks to you only by ACT

And then you wrote the love song for the Godling with compassionate look that
infrasonic speech speaks freedom bestowed from the highest heaven.

YOU KISS MY TEAR AND SEAL GOD’S EXISTANCE

I KISS YOU AND DISSOLVE IN GOD’S ESSENCE

Let this be the entry into the threshold of the entity that passes the Emerald Macadam
accompanied with the most refined creatures producing supersensible melodies by their
moves, and the perfumes that evaporates by their souls and the pomegranate liquor to
obey the thirsty soul, and the torch of their heart that beams directly to your heart and
illuminates your conscience till the most pleasant faint ever.

And you are the silent shriek of the Paradise gates heard only by diamond shiny souls that
blinds the eyes of curious mortals just as the darkness blinds the eyes of the bat.

1
NUN, is the letter of Arabic alphabet , as the symbol of knowledge
2
KUN, is the Arabic word composed of two letters KEF and NUN, meaning be, becoming
And you are the process of making awareness for our century and those to come for those
to come and walk silently passing through the lost Kinvat of Zardusht.
And you are the light that cherishes the skins dried of burning Suns of all known and
unknown galaxies. Be the hidden bee of the last Sarmouni here. So be it…

…and please be pleased with my pleasure

1. Inner language

Have you ever heard? The voice that once is eternally captured as fly in amber finds
difficulties to release and became audible. Have you ever listened that voice that tells you
silently to cover your meaning and the truth emerging from it that says you are not God.
Have you ever tried to find the channel to outpour that voice? Which lies dormant
waiting to see the hole of hope to understand you?

Yes…it was October 1983 on a circumcision party. The sun was on its zenith just like the
summer in the Balkans. With the T-shirt with TITO’s 3 red star and shorts he walked
around with others, mixed to finally realize that he is also human. Being out means being
subjected to environmental harsh aggressors and his fragility went that far so he could
only understand the words of creatures other than human. But with humans oh…them, he
would only smile and show that appearance akin to theirs and nothing else.
All kids were happy to be there all of them were playing hide and seek in the midday and
while running with the mouth full of sweets of different kinds. It’s celebration of course.

Nun was everyday fed with boiled eggs and salt till he was seven what made him unusual
in his appearance and in his behavior. That much care! Oh my God; others were saying
repeatedly. But it was a sign in his forehead epidermis looked that cosmic constellation of
red spots that that visitor clairvoyant seen them as angelic kiss, as a seal that marked
eternally somebody who will suffer to show his real nature with permanent fear that
nobody will be able to percept that exposure. Yet he was able to struggle and show his
human side which later artist will define him as Angeloid4 , and pay extra attention to his
talk, his walk and his act to be described in the book of remarkable men.

On that very shiny day of October he went out and played so much with other kids that he
discovered another type of freedom, but he could not follow the velocity of the motion
creatures seen as humans. But this time this freedom had its cost and the cost was the loss
of contact with supersensible vibrations. After a circular run around the big garden all
kids disappeared and he remained alone felt like flying showing only a barking dog that
looked like having a mouse head once and the second as crocodile, changing shapes of
his head. He was not afraid but felt happy instead moving slowly stepping carefully

3
Josip Broz Tito, Former former Yugoslav president, Communist era prior to final disintegration of
Yugoslavia
4
A creature between human and angel
losing the ground beneath his feet and felt that he is flying and flying. And while flying
there were a plentitude of voices he couldn’t recognize, just like in dreams when you
thoroughly lost yourself and forget the reality, which is difficult that to be. Somebody or
someone was trying to tell the untold story in the language where the articulation is going
beyond frontiers of human understanding and found the medium to outpour the fluid
message of eternity. Its not revelation of course, he was to young for such combustion of
the fragile organic entity known as human, more precisely a boy with the mark in his
forehead.

What was he able to understand was the buzzing in small ears sometimes feeling the
pressure marking the ground with the seal of sport shoes produced somewhere in Croatia.
Returning from the episode lasting only few seconds, into the round table full of food to
join other kids, with the neon face and shining hairs, with the quivering voice exhausted
till the last drop of blood and fat dissolved into water elements to keep the flow of life in
previous manner. With the immaculate smile in wide face trying to remembers forever the
experience yet with the fear not to tell anyone otherwise he will be crucified with the
inexhaustible laugh by parents in the beginning then by the surrounding counterparts
humiliating and labeling him as pauper.

The food was excellent, and that was the thing he could only relax with and breathe deep
to finally find rest maybe just for a while. What he could understand were the words he
muttered unconsciously so ANKA could hear and feel confused.

I’M PART OF THE SAME GRAVITY

BUT MY PEAK KISSES THE WHITE CLOUDS

Even approximately I cannot describe the quiescent pain in my backspin, through which
with the century souls of every color passed, while minstrel in the late seasons of life,
stupefied with being eternal children which for senility have no idea.

Hasan5 was that type of creature who knew about the emptied cups and the way how do
they fill them, but somehow he lacked the ability to color liquors standing there with the
readiness to cascade in… only sometimes he was so convicted in the veracity of his
words which matched to the facts so he openly said, without turning laterally to see
people who thinks different and sees talking for themselves in superlative.

Looking realistically his perception of these conscious moments as his own and his
moment was driven by completely somebody else.
His already known outcry I’M PART OF THE SAME GRAVITY BUT MY PEAK
KISSES THE WHITE CLOUDS, once upon a time was the most expressive shriek and
continuously repeated blasphemy for them was queued as another indescribable
blasphemy, and now as the sound of the church bells which sounds without voice.

5
From Arabic, the good one
 2. Interview with NUN

1. Unknown
Are you human?

NUN
Well, people often do not answer to such questions. This is not such bizarre question for
something which is that much obvious. It appears accidentally/deliberately by strong
cosmic hand to have human shape in order to avoid fear from normal mortals so they can
recognize as life, as something known, not as unknown, as death, as fear from death
consequently by ignorance. You might see, how flowers are opening and smiling, how
children smiles when they see something angelic in the front

2. Unknown
Are you afraid of being mixed with people of different levels?

NUN
No, definitely. This diversity makes me sing my octaves silently so I can play my
invisible dance thoroughly, undisturbed by the psychology of mass after four of them.
There’s a fear of people being alone, therefore they collect into plankton on the surface,
they join the forces, confronting inner forces but strong to fight common external
aggressors and enemies.

3. Unknown
What do you do in everyday life?

NUN
Life is the most mysterious phenomenon that gurgle every second, micro-second. It’s
more mysterious than death. It’s partially known so rapidly running yet undiscovered. In
my everyday life I only LOVE. A day without love is dry, no flavor, no joy, no happiness,
no longing, no suffer. To suffer for love is the highest love. This is best done by writing. I
share writing, like sharing water in the desert and you know what does this mean.

4. Unknown
How do you manifest your Love?

NUN
I do it with entire being, with my soul, with my seven bodies, with organic hands, feet,
tongue. With writing, painting, calligraphy, with lectures if we speak materialistically etc

5. Unknown
Your poems are so simple and yet so mystic. How do you find balance in all this disorder,
better said in this misbalance?

NUN
Poetry has lost its place in human life, but the poets are those who keep the language
alive, those who create new words to express their feelings AS WE DO NOT HAVE
TERRESTRIAL VOCABULARY FOR CELESTIAL PHENOMENON, their discoveries
in a spiritual realm, and those who unveil the secrets of the hidden worlds. There’s no
bigger mystery than in simplicity. That is the core. Simplicity is like death. Life is
complex, therefore human brain is not able to absorb life, therefore they release their
valves so the life can outpour, therefore in life the make poetry hard, complex,
overloaded with unacceptable verses. Poetry must have the purity of soul in order to
achieve its goal otherwise it will become life. Poetry is beyond life, is after-life
phenomenon. Only like this it becomes mystic, since humans forgot the beauty of
eternity, from where they came from. You can not apply poetry as tool to solve daily
problems, you can not make money transfer in the bank, but you can transfer cosmic
credits from soul to soul, from heaven to earth. And heaven is in us. We have to only
open our bud and release the fragrance, to percept the Ozone of our inner heaven and see
the stars that are shinning permanently blinking showing their presence perpetually.

As for the balance its very important, you might hear the story of Buddha and the strings
of the lute, if you stretch to much they will break, if you don’t stretch enough you’ll not
have a nice tune, then the story of Muhammed teaching the golden middle way known as
Al Wassat al Tariq, then the balance in the sculptures of Constandin Brancusi etc.
The balance is very important not to loose the contact with the reader in literature or
audience in music etc. Something is as simple for somebody as he is in that cognitive
level, something for the same is not understandable, but leave it there he will return as the
heart is always open as ocean so he can find his pearls next time on his return. He has to
only dive in the nekton or beneath of the ocean, he out to be eel going back and forth,
from rivers to ocean. Extreme oppression causes death just as extreme freedom causes
death, and as people wants to live they must be well balanced.

Mulber ries
1.CAFE TOTTO-AFTERNOON-PRISHTINË

LIA came from Israel for two reasons, as tourist and as researcher. She meets BESIM
while he sits with his friend ELIF in Café TOTO in Prishtina.

LIA
Hello, you must be BESIM according to the picture you’ve sent by e-mail.

BESIM
Yes, it’s me and this is my friend ELIF.

ELIF
Hello, nice to meet you.

LIA
Hello, nice to meet you too.

(Waiter approaches to serve a guest)

BESIM
What do you like to drink before we start talking?

LIA
Diet Coke would be fine for me.

BESIM
So how did you travel?

LIA
Not bad. It was safe travel.

BESIM
It’s your first time in Kosovë

LIA
Yes and I hope not the last.
BESIM
So what did you expect?

LIA
I don’t know I thought what this is, I’m in a Muslim country but I haven’t seen so
much. I arrived yesterday and I stay in GRAND hotel. As I heard in the morning
the voice of muezzin I realize I’m in the Muslim country.

BESIM
Look this is not Middle East; somehow we are in Europe hahaha

LIA
Yes you are.

(Waiter brings the drink)

LIA
(To the waiter) Thank you very much.

WAITER
Welcome.

LIA
Your friend is very silent.

BESIM
ELIF is Sufi and they usually are silent. Another reason is that his father died two
weeks ago and he is depressed mood.

LIA
(To ELIF)
Please accept my condolences.

ELIF
Thank you.

LIA
 So was he sick or what?

ELIF
Somehow, his twin brother died in accident 20 years ago. By that time he became
different and ill will. I thought the war would have impact on him, but… no
changes.

LIA
The war was terrible

ELIF
Wars don’t have diminutives. Every war is terrible. I think every one of as has it’s
own history.

BESIM
Yes I agree.

LIA
Is there a big Sufi community in Kosovo?

ELIF
No we are almost invisible here.

LIA
Very bad I think. I red some of RUMI’s poetry and I was so impressed.

ELIF
RUMI is great.

LIA
Was your father a sheikh?

ELIF
Yes… I can say so

BESIM
No he was a true sheikh, respectable, silent, thorough minded, lovable,

LIA
 I can understand your modesty ELIF. How he died?

ELIF
He decided with God’s wish. For more than a week he entered alive in his room to
exit as corpse.

(ELIF, tells his story as follows)

2. MURSHID’S ROOM/ DAYTIMES

MURSHID, an 79 years old Albanian ill Sufi, wearing pyjamas, wanders in a room full of
old ottoman manuscripts, dried fruits, a writing paraphernalia, and crumbled tapestry
with the motives of desert on the wall. He feels the rug and thrilled till the top hair as he
walks barefooted only on the left foot. More than 9 days he did not receive any guest of a
mankind except ELIF his oldest son, who treats him angelically. ELIF, a well-dressed
polite man with a feminine gentility, enters the room bringing a breeze of hope to a
bewildered senile.

ELIF
Father. Well, I simply can’t refuse people to visit you, as they understood that
you’ve been suffering for quite a while. This is not a way to avoid people. You
know how much respectable you are here. And you also know how honored they
might be by visiting and feeling your presence. You served for ages. I simply
wander how can you ?…

MURSHID
Maybe you expect to shout on you as I did from the beginning you realize about
your self. No, my beloved…you have to understand my Silentium. You must also
tell to proponents that I want to die with dignity facing Ubiquitous, and repent for
all of my sins.
ELIF
You are talking about sins? Noooooo please don’t say that. You taught me that
we’ll all face death and I’m dully convinced. But…

MURSHID
What…No but…

ELIF
But, father… since we had had terrible experience during the war and thanks God
we are alive, now we must think and act toward future.

MURSHID
Are you giving me lessons? What is all this arrogance? How dare you? You
forgot my training. This is not applicable to all.

ELIF
Father, what I wanted to say is that death is far from you. You look very bright
and strong.

MURSHID
Every mountain has its own weight, I have mine so let my followers know this
and leave me to hold this weight.

(ELIF sits in a sofa, observing his father whiles his eyeballs playing in tears).

MURSHID
You’ll never grow up my son. Now I see how much I wasted my time training you
in spiritual practices.

ELIF
How many times I saw you crying father? You taught me … a mulberry falls
under the mulberry tree and never under Peachtree.
MURSHID
During long nights prayers many tears I have shed. That is true. You should learn
the difference. You are crying for my perishable body. But I cried for my sins.

ELIF
Sins again?!. What have you done that was opposite to God’s wish? I know you
can’t tell, as there’s nothing in comparison with what a mundane ignorant is
doing.

MURSHID
To whom I’m talking. I told you if for a normal servant a workload are 8 hours for
as is 24. You understand? If for a normal student one lesson per day for us it’s the
entire book. Don’t you ever forget this? Now go back in a shrine and tell
followers that the master needs a tranquility and to prepare himself for an honored
death.

ELIF, exits the room with a wet face and a heavy blood in veins hardly walking. He
realized that this is not a tranquility phase of retreat or something similar.

MURSHID sits in a sofa warming his body in a place where his son sat few minutes ago.
He opens a wooden box where he kept few very personal objects and was never detached
from them.
As he recalls his childhood and all of sudden starts to speak in a normal voice as he
speaks with ELIF, he took the little parchment scroll. It’s not a talisman, neither is a love
poem for his beloved wife.

MURSHID

(Recites)

I’m not here

To say the pride of forgotten past
Nor I’m here to sing miraculously
Suras and Sutras of the Holy Scriptures

I’m not here to watch fallen mulberry fruits

In river swimming as a dried leafs
Nor I’m here to pray endlessly
As a sages to repent for
 Sinful mundane ignorant

I’m here to kiss the sky in its forehead

And between two eyes where
The star has to spark its beauty

I’m here to perfume your soul

And dry in the sunny-golden pollen

I’m here too, to feed your lungs

With the air of the lost world
Eternally washed in the rivers of soul

I’m the soil of your secret sowed

As a wheat seeds in the fall
Waiting spring to green the fields
And to golden summer with poppies decorated

And fireflies during short nights

Dancing erotic games

Waiting fall to feed the holy stomach

Of enfant terrible
Perpetually called ME
The sarcophagus of your secret

I’m lost …you, concentrated

In a formula dissolved
Responding on their enigmas.

(Murshid lies in bed and the beam of sunlight goes through the parchment. His pillow is
wet by sweat and tears).

MURSHID
Now I know why I kept so much attached to my soul. This is not only a song.
This is more than that. This is what others can call it a crystallized fluid of a soul.
But…, which soul? To whom it belongs?
I wish I could have tears to wash these verses. I wish I could abandon everything
except this. This is a life that is difficult to call as such.

Eh….( deep breath) my brother… (Rubbing white beard slightly wet by tears)
every time I open this box and I find this song, I see your soul among angels. You
died and I chose completely new direction in life. I became what I never dreamt. I
lost you but Almighty bestowed me more knowledge, a new path of life, a new
man that has layered all fears, wishes, sins, and values.
 My brother, wait for me I’m coming. All I have from you is this parchment and
this poem I kept always in my soul. Please God forgive this sinful servant who
loved his brother and this love disturbed many times my prayers and my service
to Thee. So many times I melted my crystal tears and I wrote

…And my crystal tears melted

In a cosmic liquor transformed
To drunk the lover in love

NESRIN
(MURSHID’s daughter interrupts his self-conversation)

Father, do you need something?

MURSHID
No my dear... all I need is GOD.

NESRIN
Don’t say that please. It means for me that you’ll leave us.

MURSHID
…As rain going to the OCEAN. You remember what I have told you

NESRIN
Crying…(exits the room as she heard somebody coming))… I’ll be backing soon
father.

MURSHID
Please set a table with lot of food and drinks for the people praying in the shrine
for me.

NESRIN
OK father

NUN, 75 years old gentlemen form Istanbul, very mundane merchant, the owner of
carpet shop.
He enters the room without notification; even ELIF was not around to prevent visitors
from visiting the sick man.
NUN
To whom in the room you are talking in such a depressive voice?

MURSHID
Shocked…didn’t know how to behave. He tries to stand up from the bad but NUN did not
allow him.

For god sake …who told you? I never dreamt you’d come. I told Elif not to allow
anybody enter my room.

NUN
I know what you are able to order and do. Forget that my brother. I made a long
trip. I simply couldn’t stay in Istanbul without seeing you. So I took a first plane
Istanbul-Prishtina. I spoke with ELIF by phone. He told me everything.

I was shocked to realize that such a believer can fall in depression from an
ordinary illness. I brought you from Istanbul the musk from Balkh. (He knows
that this is serious, but thus teasing him to extract some words that he would
remember after his death)

MURSHID
Heeee… you call this ordinary illness. I know what you see in me, and I know
what you think. That’s why you came. You are replacing Vahid, my brother. You
are the one that never forgot me. I know this and you know this. Good you
brought musk, to perfume my corpse after some days.

NUN
Yes my brother. We both know the path we have chosen. This path leads us to
another state of existence. We already know, as we are dead before death.

MURSHID
 My days are counted. I have more fingers in my right hand then the days
remained.

Murshid moving very slowly takes an old notebook a legacy of the Sufi order from his
master. It’s Evrad, a grimoire hand-written for internal use only. He gave to NUN, as he
knows it by heard and starts reciting it.

Meanwhile ELIF enters briefly interrupting them without knowing that a guest is in the
room. He is afraid that father got crazy or talking to angels before death.

ELIF
Welcome Uncle NUN, I was afraid…

MURSHID
What… You were afraid?

NUN

(Addressing to Murshid)

Please let him finish his word. Don’t you see how much confused he is?

MURSHID
Yes I see.

ELIF
Father, people will not annoy you. They told me …as the master’s wish is so we’ll
only pray for him, we’ll pray God to bestow him Heaven.

MURSHID
Very good…and tell them not because I don’t want to see them but the
circumstance is as it is.
ELIF
Uncle NUN, shall I serve you with tea?

NUN
With two please. We are going to have together with MURSHID

MURSHID
No, no…not for me.

NUN
Why not… as in old times.

MURSHID
OK… OK.

(ELIF brings tea and the conversation between two old friends goes back for some 30-40
years. MURSHID laying in bad started).

MURSHID
How is business running?

NUN
Not bad. A week ago I received a contingent from Ispahan and from Diyarbakir,
as the westerners like very much the carpets from Persia and Kurdish motives, so
the Silk Road somehow is functioning. A lot of textile I have from Bursa also. You
know…Bursa’s textile mostly I have for selling to a small enterprises for
producing furniture.

MURSHID
I’m so glad. Your son Omar is helping you I guess.

NUN
He is my right hand. Without him I would never get what I have. Thanks God.
The best thing is that he follows our path and his children are in a good way.
 One more thing… I still keep your small carpet you made and brought as a gift for
my marriage. It’s hanged on the wall in my room so I can always look at it and
remember you.

MURSHID
Ma’ashallah. And I always kept you in my heart especially by the death of my
brother Vahid. A part of me went in the ground. I was orphan when my mother
died for the fist time and the second time I became orphan when my wife died
while giving birth.

NUN
When you were in Istanbul during the war in Kosova, you left so much
impression to some people that they can hardly understand that there, oversea
have such people. They often ask me about you.

MURSHID
Everything has its end and I’m on my own end. My end in fact, begun when
Vahid died in accident. I always remember when three of us were picking
mulberries in our neighbor’s garden.

NUN
I also do very often.

MURSHID
Driven by this while I was in Istanbul and I survived the war, I realized that I was
not yet ripening to fall as mature mulberry fruit does. It was not a death time for
me then. Now it’s for true. I can feel death angel’s hand touching my soul.

NUN
You are so much obsessed by death. Are you afraid or what? You shouldn’t
behave like this as you taught many people about life and death. You taught me
many things also.
MURSHID
Now I better understand RUMI’s story in Mathanwi about the reed and his
compartment from reed-land. This is it. He was talking about soul. I’m talking
about this world that I’m soon leaving.

NUN
You always understood RUMI

MURSHID
Yes but now I experience it just now.

NUN
Death is the bridge we all must pass. I hope for us should be more easy since we
are different then others.

MURSHID
How do you mean different?

NUN
I mean we respect people, we give charity, we pray and what is most important
we know ourselves what is easier to self- control and evaluation. If we make sin
for its correction we must compensate double.

MURSHID
Ma’ashallah…my brother well said. To attain God’s nearness we must abandon
mundane wishes. We all had them. And in the same time we must find balance in
what is allowed and what is forbidden. What is allowed for a normal believer for
us is forbidden. As we deliberately choose this path.

NUN
You still keep this old wooden box?

MURSHID
Yes…that was my world in miniature. Externally I taught people in my shrine
about many things, even how to prepare a delicious food and recipes for different
diseases impregnating their will and with the will of God they will be sound either
 with food or with prescriptions. But as Vahid died, you left for Istanbul this box
were the only toy for me, and the world to enter to our past years.
Can you please take it and see what we have there.

NUN
Here is the picture of three of us as nasty kids ha…ha…ha…

MURSHID
No… don’t say that. We were like a feather blown by the wind. It was very good
time. I feel my legs are too heavy now I can hardly move. You remember how
much we run almost flying.

NUN
(Wipes a teardrop from his face. Just now he realizes that MURSHID feels his legs as
stones and the soul is preparing to leave).

Yes my brother I often recall these days. I would give all the stocks from my
shops, my two houses and all wealth to get back to that age but the water from
that river has gone and will never return.

MURSHID
What else can you see there?

NUN
I see a rosary?

MURSHID
Ahhhh… those are a gift from Konya. Vahid was there to visit RUMI’s tomb and
somehow get a spiritual link to him as for his intention to be a poet such as Rumi
so the world can remember his name and read his verses.

NUN
Did he leave anything in written? Do you maybe have any notebook with his
poems?

MURSHID
Yes he left, but the war took everything since his house was burned. I have only
the peace of parchment with his handwriting and the poem, which is very nice.
NUN
You mean this peace.

MURSHID
Read please so you can ease my soul. I feel his presence

NUN

(Starts reading and Murshid is following him, to be both washed by tears afterwards)

Honeycomb

I’m not here

To say the pride of forgotten past
Nor I’m here to sing miraculously
Suras and Sutras of the Holy Scriptures

I’m not here to watch fallen mulberry fruits

In river swimming as a dried leafs
Nor I’m here to pray endlessly
As a sages to repent for
Sinful mundane ignorant

I’m here to kiss the sky in its forehead

And between two eyes where
The star has to spark its beauty

I’m here to perfume your soul

And dry in the sunny-golden pollen

I’m here too, to feed your lungs

With the air of the lost world
Eternally washed in the rivers of soul

I’m the soil of your secret sowed

As a wheat seeds in the fall
Waiting spring to green the fields
And to golden summer with poppies decorated

And fireflies during short nights

 Dancing erotic games

Waiting fall to feed the holy stomach

Of enfant terrible
Perpetually called ME
The sarcophagus of your secret

I’m lost …you, concentrated

In a formula dissolved
Responding on their enigmas.

NUN
This is the destiny of many talents. Vahid, no doubt was huge talent.

MURSHID
Yes he was. Contrary I never wrote I spoke instead. I taught but I don’t write and
after ELIF this knowledge will disperse in the air and nobody will show interest
on this learning. This is my big grief. Now you understand why my voice is so
depressed, why I’m so down.

NUN
No… I think the next generations will write dissertations on your talks and your
service. Few decades you spent to teach and train people in spiritual practices.
Nothing will be lost. You don’t have to worry. The Almighty will reward you. You
also wrote…where are your scripts?

MURSHID
I don’t trust next generations, as they are so materialistic. My scripts…
ehhhhhhh… my scripts got burned. What can you say after this poem left by
VAHID?

NUN
There’s enough teaching in these verses for those who understands.

MURSHID
True. But can you count how many we have here who can do that. ELIF is not
ready yet for such a science.
 There is something I would like to ask you.

NUN
Tell me please I’m keen to fulfill your wish.

MURSHID
My brother Vahid wrote a song in my soul. I never wrote on paper. So I please
you to take a pen and paper and start writing while I recite, otherwise it’ll be lost
forever. This is something that I want let happen.

(NUN takes the pen and the paper and writes the poem, which he’ll take in Istanbul as
the last gift from the best friend).

Far I got Thee

Memory is coming as stars light
Which vanishing I can’t imagine

The world got me as such

Till I’m waiting
Dew
To refresh
This outlandish heart body

This lip is drying

When it says that beautiful Name
The tongue is drying
It cleft

The balm is only presence as epiphany

But far even from this
That what the tongue can’t say

That is
This will be
God’s word
When said BECOME
It becomes
Me
I become
It
Then I extinguish
(NUN was finishing writing, MURSHID fall sleeping hardly moving his hand below his
face in the pillow.
NUN exits the room slowly leaving his friend to rest heading to the shrine where he meets
with ELIF and the rest of the visitors and proponents).

3. IN THE SUFI SHRINE/ BEFORE NIGHTFALL

ELIF
I guess now you are convinced.

NUN
Yes my son. He will not take long. I never saw him like this. We must prepare
everything and give him the last honor as he deserves. We must get together here
in the shrine and pray for him.

(They all gather in the shrine and made DEVRAN (a circle) for Zikir (remembrance)
mentioning divine names and prayers from the Holy Book. NUN directs the prayer for the
first time in this shrine.

ELIF left the shrine and goes to the room to check his father. Hi was still sleeping. ELIF
approached his father with the eyes full of tears. Start to speak to him knowing that he
sleeps).

ELIF
After mother’s death I was orphan for the fist time now it’s the second. You are
going to leave me. What shall I do with this people? What shall I do with myself?
I’m very raw. Not purified enough to lead. Brothers are in Diaspora. Tomorrow
they will come. I hope they will see you before you leave last breath here in this
bed.
He looked around and saw a peace of paper, which was freshly written. He took the
paper and starts reading.

ELIF
My son;
I hope you’ll not disgrace me and continue working for this matter.
People will expect from you to offer them the warmness I use to give.
About the shrine you going to take care and please be aware that two unfamiliar
will come to ask you two books those are behind the shelves in this room. They
will not enter my room but they will be in the shrine after only two days. They
will not ask to see me they will come only for books
Please take care about NESRIN, as she is the only sister you have. She needs
more care from you since you are taking my positions
My to beloved sons ALI and TARIK and their families will not have chance to see
me alive. They will arrive after my homage.
I pray God to leave you in peace.

ELIF was thrilled to death.... weeping, crying loudly enough to disturb the neighbors, but
there were no signs to wake up his father.
MURSHID never returned in a normal state of mind but for two more days he remained
in bed unconscious.
Thursday night, around 21.30, two men come in the shrine looking for ELIF and calling
by his name. He never saw them in his life. They look strange enough to ouster them
exactly in these moments when the entire family and friends are in grief for the valuable
man.

4. AT THE GATE OF THE HOUSE

TWO MEN
(In one voice)

We came after the message from your father.

ELIF
What… at this time? Don’t you know what time is it?
FIRST MAN
We have our duty and we must do it timely.

SECOND MAN
Exactly. We guess you know why we came.

ELIF
Yes…yes I know? The… (Stammering)…the… books yes. How much do you
want?

TWO MEN
Only two, you should read the paper your father left for you with messages.

ELIF went to take the books. Once again he looked at his father and reads the paper to
easily find the books. He quickly finds the books and gets out in the shrine to meet to
unfamiliar men.

ELIF
So gentlemen here we are. I think you were looking for these. (Giving them the
books)

FIRST MAN
Exactly, yeah…

SECOND MAN
Yes these are the books. Thank you very much.

ELIF
But… who are you? Can you please tell me?

FIRST MAN
I’m from up (showing with right pointing finger)

SECOND MAN
I’m from the South.

ELIF
I don’t understand you.

Suddenly a fanfare from the car shouts in the main street. It’s very loud. ELIF returns his
head to see what is going on. Two men disappear. As he returns to continue talking they
already are missing. He is shocked. Continue walking in the shrine and the people inside
the prayer room asking… who was there?

5. IN THE SUFI SHRINE

ELIF
Two strangers.

NUN
What did they asked?

ELIF
They wanted some alms?

NUN
Ok we were afraid on something bad happened.

They continue to pray for more than an hour. Suddenly they hear loud cry of NESRIN.
ELIF immediately runs in father’s room and meets NESRIN weeping. NUN runs promptly
after ELIF and finds MURSHID dead.

6. IN MURSHID’S ROOM

ELIF
NESRIN, did he talk something?

NESRIN
(Crying)
No he was so happy, he turned his eyeballs and he was not able to talk to me but
he was muttering something. I’m sure not to me. He was all yellow a kind of
shine in his face.

ELIF
Oh…God you took him. He knew. He told me everything. He told me the way
that he will die.
NUN
(Starts to pray, few tears rolled in his face)
OK my dears…crying will not help. Now he is in angel’s hands. I’m sure he will
have nice companion. We must be strong and secure his corpse till the morning to
burry him as soon as possible. He told me …now I’m mature enough to fall just
as mulberry falls when it’s ripen. And he did so. He knew his time. Oh…God.

7. IN CAFE TOTO

ELIF
This was my story dear LIA.

LIA
(LIA, wiped her right cheek with moisturized napkin)
I see death everyday in Israel.

BESIM
Shall we change the theme or the place?

ELIF
It’s good idea.

LIA
What… theme or place?

BESIM
Let’s change both.

LIA and ELIF

Perfect.

BESIM
In Prizren maybe

LIA
You decide I don’t know

ELIF
Let’s go to Prizren
BESIM
(Returns his car and three of them headed to Prizren)

END