按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
spoon to eat whatever food God had blessed us with。
At that moment； standing before a caravansary beside a fountain； my dear
friend； nay； my beloved； nay； my brother and I had given ourselves over to the
usual argument： “You first please； no you first；” we were noisily deferring to
each other as to who’d be the first to take up the spoon and eat from the
bowl； when a Frank traveler； a strange man； stopped us； gave us each a silver
Veian coin and began to draw our picture。
He was a Frank； of course； he was weird。 He situated us right in the center
of the page as if we were the very tent of the Sultan； and was depicting us in
our half…naked state when I shared with my panion a thought that had
just then dawned upon me： To appear like a pair of truly impoverished
Kalenderi beggar dervishes； we should roll our eyes back so our pupils look
inward； the whites of our eyes facing the world like blind men—and that’s
exactly what we proceeded to do。 In this situation； it’s the nature of a dervish
to behold the world in his head rather than the world outside； since our heads
were full of hashish； the landscape of our minds was more pleasant than what
the Frank painter saw。
333
Meanwhile； the scene outside had grown even worse； we heard the ranting
of a Hoja Effendi。
Pray； let us not give the wrong idea。 We’ve now made mention of the
respected “Hoja Effendi；” but last week in this fine coffeehouse there was a
great misunderstanding： This respected “Hoja Effendi” of whom we speak has
nothing whatsoever to do with His Excellency Nusret Hoja the cleric from
Erzurum； nor with the bastard Husret Hoja； nor with the hoja from Sivas who
made it with the Devil atop a tree。 Those who interpret everything negatively
have said that if His Excellency Hoja Effendi bees a target of reproach here
once again； they’ll cut out the storyteller’s tongue and lower this coffeehouse
about his head。
One hundred and twenty years ago； there being no coffee then； the
respected Hoja； whose story we’ve begun； was simply steaming with rage。
“Hey； Frank infidel； why are you drawing these two？” he was saying。 “These
wretched Kalenderi dervishes wander around thieving and begging； they take
hashish； drink wine； bugger each other； and as is evident from the way they
look； know nothing of performing or reciting prayers； nothing of house； or
home； or family； they’re nothing but the dregs of this good world of ours。 And
you； why are you painting this picture of disgrace when there’s so much
beauty in this great country？ Is it to disgrace us？”
“Not at all； it’s simply because illustrations of your bad side bring in more
money；” said the infidel。 We two dervishes were dumbfounded at the
soundness of the painter’s reasoning。
“If it brought you more money； would you paint the Devil in a favorable
light？” the Hoja Effendi said； coyly trying to start an argument； but as you can
see from this picture； the Veian was a genuine artist； and he’d focused
upon the work before him and the money it’d bring rather than heeding the
Hoja’s empty prattle。
He did indeed paint us； and then slid us into the leather portfolio on the
back of his horse’s saddle； and returned to his infidel city。 Soon afterward； the
victorious armies of the Ottomans conquered and plundered that city on the
banks of the Danube； and the two of us ended up ing back this way to
Istanbul and the Royal Treasury。 From there； copied over and over； we moved
from one secret book to another； and finally arrived at this joyous coffeehouse
where coffee is drunk like a rejuvenating； invigorating elixir。 Now then：
334
A Brief Treatise on Painting； Death and Our Place in the World
The Hoja Effendi from Konya； whom we’ve just mentioned； has made the
following claim somewhere in one of his sermons； which are written out and
collected in a thick tome： Kalenderi dervishes are the unnecessary dross of the
world because they don’t belong to any of the four categories into which men
are divided： 1。 notables； 2。 merchants； 3。 farmers and 4。 artists； thus； they are
superfluous。
Additionally； he said the following： “These two always tramp about as a pair
and always argue about which of them will be the first to eat with their only
spoon； and those who don’t know that this is a sly allusion to their true
concern—who’ll be the first to bugger the other—find it amusing and laugh。
His Excellency Please…Don’t…Take…It…Wrong Hoja has uncovered our secret
because he； along with us； the pretty young boys； apprentices and miniaturists；
are all fellow travelers on the same path。”
The Real Secret
However； the real secret is this： While the Frank infidel was making our
picture； he gazed at us so sweetly and with such attention to detail that we
took a liking to him and enjoyed being depicted by him。 But； he was
mitting the error of looking at the world with his naked eye and rendering
what he saw。 Thus； he drew us as if we were blind although we could see just
fine； but we didn’t mind。 Now； we’re quite content； indeed。 According to the
Hoja； we’re in Hell； according to some unbelievers we’re nothing but decayed
corpses and according to you； the intelligent society of miniaturists gathered
here； we’re a picture； and because we’re a picture； we stand here before you as
though we were alive and well。 After our run…in with the respected Hoja
Effendi and after walking from Konya to Sivas in three nights； through eight
villages； begging all the way； one night we were beset by such cold and snow
that we two dervishes； hugging each other tightly； fell asleep and froze to
death。 Just before dying I had a dream： I was the subject of a painting that
entered Heaven after thousands and thousands of years。
335
IT IS I； MASTER OSMAN