beroq
04-05-2009, 09:17 AM
At this very delicate hour when the evening sun, mingled with the odor of the pine trees that grew old on the hillside, was coming together with a soft breeze from the nearby grove, Ekrem’s cat thought, sitting on a wall. Then he did not begin combing his shiny, black and white hair, as he did not have any shiny, black and white hair. Ever since he was of ill report in the town as being Ekrem’s cat, life did not treat him as it treated other ordinary cats. Being quite sure of this, he long understood even shiny hair could not bring him those old good days and chose to comply with what he already had.
You get used to anything in this world. You may have an hair that is smeared with dust, feet that leave tiny prints on the white, hand-made table clothes and a runny nose. You can get used to anything as long as you accept them heartily. You do not run after mice at the expense of being kicked out by the human kinds; instead, consent to dozing at someone else’s door and beg for a slice of dry bread. Or, you opt for strolling around, labeled on your forehead with a “coward” seal, instead of daring to plant yourself in front of the big, bad dogs hectoring around. Anything is possible and that you can become anything is possible, as well.
Ekrem’s cat thought. The home on whose wall he was sitting now was the home he made off with a large slice of delicious beef and he was not ashamed of this. Perhaps things were a lot different in the past. Perhaps, had his grandpa been alive, he might now charge him with mischief and arrogance. But who would want to be a hungry hero? Maybe his grandpa would die for this heroic heroism... But he would kill anyone to keep his stomach full. Such different were the volatile dimensions of heroism anymore.
The stories he used to hear from his grandpa were abundant with samples of heroism when the old folks took any kind of risk for numerous impalpable things. Well... Maybe there really were many things to die for in the old times. Was it so anymore?
You may have heard a bunch of these stories from those wretched old people. How they became brothers, how they fought, how they defended, and how they died. None of us is immune from listening to these stories. Could you be as brave as those folks used to be? Could you beat off the most troublesome dog in the town? Or, having been roasted under the sun for four hours, would you share the mouse you finally caught with a friend? No, you would not; because the description of the heroism has already been changed. Things that you do to become a hero are not the same as the ones your dad, uncle or grandpa did with the same purpose. Descriptions and beliefs have long been changed. And Ekrem’s cat is a superhero anymore. He is the hero of his own time. He is a coward, a liar, a thief or a grifter maybe. But he is still a hero. He is a hero the way some could not understand.
The wall on which he was sitting now was the highest point of the town that lay on a bare, dusty hill. From the place that he was he could see both slopes of the hill and the houses with red bricks on them. These two slopes were like two different worlds, literally, and the houses on the very top of the hill were under the constant threat of being rejected by both.
It was a weird situation. There existed two different worlds in the town which the cat could easily notice. Such that both called one another ‘the other slope.’ It was not good to be from the other slope. When you are from the other slope, you would lose the chance of penetrating into the ‘real’ slope.
The cat could see that Ekrem had no friends in the town and wherever he is in the town, had to live on the other slope. Both sides of the town did not like him; that was for sure. Because Ekrem had vagrant friends and these guys had no respect for anything else. The only thing they knew was to wander around and disregard old folks and the traditions. Ekrem and the like had no esteem for almost anything. These men had no sacred.
The cat looked at the soft lights of the sun and smiled. He knew he did not have to bear with anything. He had his own fate in his hands; just like all other creatures. The physical pains he had to endure as being ‘Ekrem’s cat’ had already far exceeded those moral and philosophical gains that he expected to have. Now he was, literally, at the threshold of making a serious decision that might affect his life thoroughly: To go away or to stay and endure.
He would consult a magician if he knew one. However, the cat had to make his decision all by himself. Time had changed and he was trying to keep up with it. He had put all the sacred, untouchable things aside and gave the priority to himself. Yet, things were not going in the right direction he wanted them to head for. People had embraced living with the archaic rules of the past and were eager to punishing those who oppose them. The cat was one of those wretched folks. Now it was beyond endurance. Ekrem was still bearing with all the agony inflicted by the society but this was mostly because of his lack of choice. He had a choice. He had made up his mind. The cat had decided.
He jumped off the wall and set to find some acquaintances to kiss goodbye. Meanwhile, by a sweet chance, he ran across with Ekrem and his two friends en route. Ekrem looked at his cat. Then he bowed his head and walked on, whirling up a little dust behind him. When the cat had lost the hope of finding an acquaintance, he concluded it was the right time to start off. He walked through both slopes of the town, not paying attention to anything on them. Leaving the town behind, he walked toward the red horizon, where the sun always goes down.
The cat marched on for hours. By the time he had his first break, it was midnight. There was no town anymore. There were no people and their nonsense things. There was nothing. Only a magical and beautiful moon in the sky and trees, creeks, rocks and plains on the ground – all veiled by the magical, white tulle of the moonlight.
Now he was enjoying the night and the quietness, sprawling upon one of the top branches of a long, large tree. The moonlight had temporarily softened his soul and he was now thinking that it was high time for the cat folks to end the malice they had been inflicting for ages upon the mice folks. Why did they have to become hostile toward those tiny, pretty creatures?
The cat contemplated over the situation until the morning. He was just about to consent to the idea of building a stable friendship with mice when he explored how hungry he became. The charm of the night vanished; the breath of life was felt. The cat decided to put off his thoughts about the mice folks until the following night.
He set off once again; this time with the lights of the morning sun shining on his back. He was firm about not letting the east sun shone on his face.
You get used to anything in this world. You may have an hair that is smeared with dust, feet that leave tiny prints on the white, hand-made table clothes and a runny nose. You can get used to anything as long as you accept them heartily. You do not run after mice at the expense of being kicked out by the human kinds; instead, consent to dozing at someone else’s door and beg for a slice of dry bread. Or, you opt for strolling around, labeled on your forehead with a “coward” seal, instead of daring to plant yourself in front of the big, bad dogs hectoring around. Anything is possible and that you can become anything is possible, as well.
Ekrem’s cat thought. The home on whose wall he was sitting now was the home he made off with a large slice of delicious beef and he was not ashamed of this. Perhaps things were a lot different in the past. Perhaps, had his grandpa been alive, he might now charge him with mischief and arrogance. But who would want to be a hungry hero? Maybe his grandpa would die for this heroic heroism... But he would kill anyone to keep his stomach full. Such different were the volatile dimensions of heroism anymore.
The stories he used to hear from his grandpa were abundant with samples of heroism when the old folks took any kind of risk for numerous impalpable things. Well... Maybe there really were many things to die for in the old times. Was it so anymore?
You may have heard a bunch of these stories from those wretched old people. How they became brothers, how they fought, how they defended, and how they died. None of us is immune from listening to these stories. Could you be as brave as those folks used to be? Could you beat off the most troublesome dog in the town? Or, having been roasted under the sun for four hours, would you share the mouse you finally caught with a friend? No, you would not; because the description of the heroism has already been changed. Things that you do to become a hero are not the same as the ones your dad, uncle or grandpa did with the same purpose. Descriptions and beliefs have long been changed. And Ekrem’s cat is a superhero anymore. He is the hero of his own time. He is a coward, a liar, a thief or a grifter maybe. But he is still a hero. He is a hero the way some could not understand.
The wall on which he was sitting now was the highest point of the town that lay on a bare, dusty hill. From the place that he was he could see both slopes of the hill and the houses with red bricks on them. These two slopes were like two different worlds, literally, and the houses on the very top of the hill were under the constant threat of being rejected by both.
It was a weird situation. There existed two different worlds in the town which the cat could easily notice. Such that both called one another ‘the other slope.’ It was not good to be from the other slope. When you are from the other slope, you would lose the chance of penetrating into the ‘real’ slope.
The cat could see that Ekrem had no friends in the town and wherever he is in the town, had to live on the other slope. Both sides of the town did not like him; that was for sure. Because Ekrem had vagrant friends and these guys had no respect for anything else. The only thing they knew was to wander around and disregard old folks and the traditions. Ekrem and the like had no esteem for almost anything. These men had no sacred.
The cat looked at the soft lights of the sun and smiled. He knew he did not have to bear with anything. He had his own fate in his hands; just like all other creatures. The physical pains he had to endure as being ‘Ekrem’s cat’ had already far exceeded those moral and philosophical gains that he expected to have. Now he was, literally, at the threshold of making a serious decision that might affect his life thoroughly: To go away or to stay and endure.
He would consult a magician if he knew one. However, the cat had to make his decision all by himself. Time had changed and he was trying to keep up with it. He had put all the sacred, untouchable things aside and gave the priority to himself. Yet, things were not going in the right direction he wanted them to head for. People had embraced living with the archaic rules of the past and were eager to punishing those who oppose them. The cat was one of those wretched folks. Now it was beyond endurance. Ekrem was still bearing with all the agony inflicted by the society but this was mostly because of his lack of choice. He had a choice. He had made up his mind. The cat had decided.
He jumped off the wall and set to find some acquaintances to kiss goodbye. Meanwhile, by a sweet chance, he ran across with Ekrem and his two friends en route. Ekrem looked at his cat. Then he bowed his head and walked on, whirling up a little dust behind him. When the cat had lost the hope of finding an acquaintance, he concluded it was the right time to start off. He walked through both slopes of the town, not paying attention to anything on them. Leaving the town behind, he walked toward the red horizon, where the sun always goes down.
The cat marched on for hours. By the time he had his first break, it was midnight. There was no town anymore. There were no people and their nonsense things. There was nothing. Only a magical and beautiful moon in the sky and trees, creeks, rocks and plains on the ground – all veiled by the magical, white tulle of the moonlight.
Now he was enjoying the night and the quietness, sprawling upon one of the top branches of a long, large tree. The moonlight had temporarily softened his soul and he was now thinking that it was high time for the cat folks to end the malice they had been inflicting for ages upon the mice folks. Why did they have to become hostile toward those tiny, pretty creatures?
The cat contemplated over the situation until the morning. He was just about to consent to the idea of building a stable friendship with mice when he explored how hungry he became. The charm of the night vanished; the breath of life was felt. The cat decided to put off his thoughts about the mice folks until the following night.
He set off once again; this time with the lights of the morning sun shining on his back. He was firm about not letting the east sun shone on his face.