Thought Archive

Monday, August 25, 2008

Confession

I imagine myself a part of a great army of Tung Yabgu – khagan of Turks – ready to lay siege to a great Sassanian town of Derbent, sword in my hand and murmuring my prayers to Tengri – a great God of Blue Sky and Ruler of all Spirits. I am a Son of Grey Wolf, from the Valley of the Wolves. I am a mighty Turkut.

How can any of these smelly brown people understand the sounds of my beautiful language, how can they cherish blooming valleys of Orhon where streams come to form the mighty Ulugh-Khem which flows north into the Unknown Northern Ocean.
How can I not be a Turk then, and not marry one?

I imagine myself as a warrior of the Great army of Islam during the first siege of Constantinople, just few decades after Prophet’s death. I am serving Ayyub– the flag-bearer of the Prophet, and I am to be the one to take the Green Banner from his hand and to hear his last words about the walls of Constaninople to scaled by a Conquering Turk.
How can I not be a Muslim and not marry one?

But then my thoughts sadden and darken and I imagine myself as a part of small band of hangers on with Imam Huseyn (a.s) on the field of Karbala. I am bloodied and wounded and hiding in a tent. After the battle, when Yazeed's army is looting the tents, they fnd me and place my head on a spear. Umar ibn Sa'ad sends Imam Husayn's head to ibn Ziyad on Ashura afternoon and orders to sever heads of his comrades to send them to Kufa. I am one of them. How can I not be a Shia and not marry one?

And then my thoughts sadden yet again and I see myself on the bridge over Ganja river in May 1920, commanding a small band of survivors from Azerbaijani Army. Russian Bolshevik horde and its Armenian backers are coming to take the bridge and I am – like in Ali and Nino book – waiting for my martyrdom, knowing that there is no way back into the beautiful but short-lived dream of our nation. I will be dead for seventy years.
How can I not be an Azeri and not marry one?

Then I smile again and think about all the good things people had said to me and done to me, the people who knew and cared nothing about sanctity of blood, far away from my land and people, and were inherently good or even better than some of my compatriots.
How can I not be a human and not marry one?

4 comments:

L. Julius Maximus said...

This was very impressive, and it was the best thing that I have read in these days in internet.

Hazar Nesimi said...

Thank you very much, for appreciating these words.

Riri said...

I am back from the wedding. My legs are killing me! I did dance like a mad woman.

Hazar Nesimi said...

Is this your confession or?