Once again, the bus was so crowded that it felt like there was no room to breathe. My journey was long. Standing while traveling prevented me from being in sync with my thoughts and feelings. I quickly found a seat and settled in. I put on my headphones and leaned my head against the window. I couldn’t calm the tears of my weary heart. The pain of parting surrounded my heart from all sides, and I turned my gaze outside. Istanbul appeared misty through the windows that hadn’t been wiped for a long time. The cries of babies, the voices of retired uncles whose arguments would escalate when politics was discussed, accompanied me. Where were all these people going? They were individuals whose lives I would never get to know. Bayrampaşa, Fındıkzade, Haseki, Unkapanı, and the final stop, Eminonü… As soon as I got off the bus, I took a deep breath, straightened myself up, adjusted the strap of my shoulder bag that had slipped off, and started walking quickly. From the bus stops towards the Galata Bridge, I increased my pace. The call of the vendors like “Fresh fish here!” and “Pickle juice here!” echoed amidst the bustling crowd, accompanied by the call to prayer rising from Istanbul’s myriad minarets. I felt the melodies of the vivid spirit of Muhammad that filled Istanbul’s skies resonating in my heartstrings, and my eyes welled up.
The sky is immersed in light from countless minarets,
When the vivid spirit of Muhammad arrives. (Yahya Kemal Beyatlı)
In this city, the call to prayer was recited in a captivating manner that enchanted both land and sky inhabitants, inviting all creatures to the presence of God Almighty by whispering love into hearts. I took off my headphones and allowed this Divine melody to touch my soul as I walked step by step on the Galata Bridge. When I reached the halfway point of the bridge, the call to prayer had not yet finished. I leaned against the rusted, icy-cold iron railings of the bridge. On one end stood Galata, on the other end stood the Süleymaniye Mosque. With every step I took in this grand city, I felt like I was inside a work of art. As fishermen cast their lines into the sea with hopeful cries of “In the Name of God!”, the call to prayer from the minarets was added to the scene. The pigeons, free yet persistently loyal, filled the courtyard of the mosque. In the heavens of Istanbul, they fluttered their wings and once again became a part of the congregation of this mosque.
I blended into the crowd, making my way into the Eminonü Bazaar. The aroma of freshly ground coffee greeted me as I entered the bazaar. A tentative smile appeared on the corner of my lips. Then the fire in my heart enclosed my smile and the ache in my heart spread to my face again. I walked through the bazaar, which was lined with shops of all sizes, and allowed the crowd to carry me along. I headed toward the steep streets leading to the Süleymaniye Mosque. I began to ascend the hill, fixing my gaze on the gleaming Jewel Minaret of the Süleymaniye. The sun had enveloped all of Istanbul, adding radiance upon radiance, and I found myself in need of a drop of water. I reached the summit of the hill, resting on the steps by the wall of the Süleymaniye Mosque. With the sea breeze washing over me and squinting eyes, I gazed at Eminonü one last time.
I started walking toward the street alongside the wall that encircled my university’s main campus. Print shops, second-hand bookstores, kiosks, restaurants serving home-cooked meals… Of course, I stopped by that restaurant I always visited on class days and indulged in a bowl of magnolia dessert, savoring it at a pace that would etch its taste into my memory. It was fresher and more delicious than ever today. I counted the loose change from my pocket, paid for the dessert, thanked them, and continued walking. Passing through Istanbul’s historical streets, where student groups gathered at every corner, I reached the main gate of Istanbul University, previously known as Bab-i Seraskeri during the Ottoman era. I continued walking along the left side of the street. I turned my head to the left and cast a sidelong glance. The majestic presence of this monumental structure captured my gaze. I took a photo of the first verse of the chapter Al-Fath inscribed on the building and placed it at the beginning of my new album: “We have surely granted you a manifest victory (which is a door to further victories).” (Qur’an, 48:1).
In the final steps of my journey, sometimes accompanied by the music of grace and sometimes by the challenging conditions of life, I left a piece of my youth, my loved ones, my dreams, and my hopes in Istanbul. With my heart still resonating with the words that deeply touched me from the farewell of our beloved Prophet to Mecca, “I love you so much that if they hadn’t taken me away, I swear, I wouldn’t have parted from you,”[1] I realized that until I reunite with what I left behind, the path of all farewells passes through Istanbul.
[1] Sunan at-Tirmidhi, Manaqib, 68; Ibn Majah, Manasik, 103; Ahmad ibn Hanbal, Al-Musnad, 4/305.
