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The golden sun rays were filling the room with light along with the large and heavy chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the Topkapı Palace. It was afternoon, around 17:00. The warm spring evening was just perfect, the tulips in the Topkapı Palace’s enormous garden had started to bloom again.
Not only tulips, roses, hyacinths, pansies, violets and many other colorful and various flowers. It made life feel peaceful. The return of spring was the symbol of reborn, and the rebirth of these beautiful flowers was the best example.
There were nobody else other than the Sultan and the Sehzade, or the Crown Prince, in the room. The Sehzade was seated next to his father, their kaftans brushing against eachothers. The table in front of them was low, low enough for the Sehzade to reach.
There were a few long rolled up parchments and black ink on the table. And there was also a calligraphy brush on the Sehzade’s tiny hand. It moved up and down, right and left, trying his best to create the best calligraphy he could make.
“This one is so much better, well done.” Sultan Ottoman Empire celebrated his son’s calligraphy art, “It is better compared to your previous ones, but you still have to improve.”
“Your praise honors me, my Sultan.” Türkiye replied in that innocent tone of his, “I shall strive to do better.”
“I’m sure you’ll do better, I have no suspicion in that.” Ottoman said, his hand moving upwards to pat his son’s back, his hand stayed there for a few seconds before he withdrew his hand.
“I won’t disappoint you, my Sultan.”
Ottoman gave a small nod once, then he kept watching his son’s hand again. How the brush flew over paper, spreading ink on the paper where it touches.
After 20 minutes, when the calligraphy art was finally done, Ottoman grabbed the two ends with his hands and raised it up to see it better in light.
“Excellent, you show promise. Keep it up and you’ll improve in time.” He praised his son’s art, as Türkiye nodded.
“Do I need to work on it more for today?” Türkiye asked, his eyes locked to his father.
“No, that’s enough for the day. You can continue tomorrow after resting, studying when you’re tired brings no gain.” Ottoman responded as he lowered the calligraphy art and placed it on the table. “You’re free to go, run around in the garden. The tulips are blooming again.”
“As you wish, my Sultan.” Türkiye said as he rose up to his feet and grabbed his father’s hand gently, placing a soft kiss on it then left the room.
He ran in the long hall leading to the front gate. He ignored the noise and the echo of his footsteps made and kept running until he was standing outside.
Türkiye stood next to the long section of tulips, the tulips were pink and fresh, they had bloomed not so long before. Every spring, the garden was filled with the smell of these beautiful flowers. Tulips were Türkiye’s favorite, he had always loved tulips. He actually loved every type of fascinating flowers , but tulips were the special ones for him. Simple and beautiful.
He had no intend in plucking those innocent tulips, he crouched next to the tulips and bent over slightly over them, raising a tulip near his nose to smell the distinct scent. He inhaled the fragrance to his lungs, then breathed out.
Türkiye ran around the garden, looking at every single flower he could find in the garden, watching them for sometime, then running to another to do the same thing over and over again.
-
It had gotten late, there were only a few minutes left to the call for the evening prayer. Türkiye was sitting on a bench near the pink tulips with a white cat on his lap, until he heard footsteps.
“You’re still here?” The question hung heavy in the air. Sultan Ottoman looked at Türkiye across the grand garden.
“Yes, my Sultan.” Türkiye replied as he lifted his head and eyes off the cat. His hand still kept rubbing the back of the cat’s ear in a comforting way, even the cat seemed happy.
“It’s dawn, it’s only a few minutes before the evening prayer. You should get ready.” Ottoman said as he walked in slow steps towards Türkiye.
“Ah, yes you are right, your majesty. I completely forgot-“
“You always do this every spring, it’s no surprise, don’t worry.” He eventually reached the bench and sat near Türkiye. Türkiye stopped petting the cat and turned towards his father.
“Keep going, she likes it.” Ottoman said. He turned his head to the mosque in the palace garden, waiting patiently. Just 2 minutes after, the call for the prayer was heard.
“You have wudu, right?”
“Of course.”
They headed to the mosque for the evening prayer and performed salah together.
-
The sun was no longer present, it had left its place to the crescent moon instead. The crickets were chirping inside the trees and bushes, soft lantern light flickered in the huge palace garden.
The Sultan left the mosque, his heavy footsteps audible in the garden, much little and quieter footsteps followed behind him. They walked inside the palace, to the private library in the harem section.
Ottoman wandered through the book shelves, he had finished reading his last book, he looked for another one to read. As his hand brushed against the thick books, his son had already seated down to the cushions near the window.
He reached for a Divan from the freshly cleaned shelves and went near the cushions. Türkiye had already opened his book and started reading it in silence.
“Close it.” Ottoman demanded calmly, “I’ll read and you’ll listen.”
Türkiye lifted his head from the book, looked at his father few a few seconds, then closed the book without saying anything.
Ottoman sat down on the soft cushion and opened the poetry book. The Sehzade watched him do so with a little bit exhaustion yet curiosity in his blue eyes.
He looked at what his father had picked for to read, a divan book. He sighed silently, making sure Ottoman did not hear it.
10 minutes had passed since the Sultan had started reading the poetry in that distinct tone of his. This small (sometimes small) reading sessions he had with the Sehzade was a common thing between them. The Sehzade preferred to read a book himself instead of listening to his father reading poetry though.
“I already can write poetry, I do it all the time. Is it necessary that I have to listen to my father reading poetry too?” Türkiye thought to himself. He knew things would not end up well if he had told these thoughts out. So he just played along until his eyelids felt heavy.
“Hem bâd-ı sabâ ere beşâret vere gülden
Hem gonce dahi gül gibi handân ola bir gün-“
(“May the morning breeze bring good tidings from the rose,
May the bud too, one day, bloom and smile like a rose.”)
Ottoman realized Türkiye’s zoned out state and his lidded eyes, he lowered the book below his eye level.
“Türkiye.”
Türkiye looked up instantly, his eyes snapped open.
“I’m sincerely sorry, my Sultan. I was exhausted a bit that’s all.”
“ ‘A bit?’ You’re worn out completely. Go to your chambers and rest.”
“No, no, I will keep listening to you.”
Ottoman sighed and took a look at his son’s tired face, but he returned to reading the poetry back.
-
Maybe half an hour passed by, Ottoman had found his favorite poetry in the divan. He said the first word out, then paused. He hadn’t got the reaction he expected. He lowered the book, and saw Türkiye completely asleep, his head lowered, his chestnut colored hair falling over his lidded eyes.
Ottoman stared at the boy for a few seconds, his enthusiasm to read his favorite poetry wore off. He sighed deeply and closed the boon and set it on the window marble.
He adjusted his kaftan, and right after the call for the prayer was heard.
His hand reached out to brush away the hair falling over Türkiye’s eyes.
“It’s time to perform salah, get up. You can sleep later..”