The Twenty-Sixth Flash

“Know that this cemetery surrounding you contains a hundred Istanbuls within it. A hundred times over, Istanbul has emptied its inhabitants into this cemetery. And you, who dwell in this city, cannot escape the decree of the Almighty Judge, Who has brought them all here. You too shall come here.”

I left the cemetery and, with this awe-inspiring thought weighing upon my mind, went to a small room in the Eyup Sultan MosqueA historic Ottoman mosque in Istanbul, located beside the tomb of Abū Ayyūb al-Ansārī (ra), a Companion of Prophet Muhammad (saw). It is one of the most revered religious sites in Turkey and an important place of pilgrimage and prayer. where I had often stayed. There I reflected:

I am a guest in three respects. Just as I am a guest in this room, so too am I a guest in Istanbul, and likewise a guest in this world. A guest must give thought to his onward journey. Just as I shall one day leave this room, so shall I one day leave Istanbul, and one day depart from this world.

In this state, a deep and painful sorrow weighed upon my heart. For I was not merely losing one or two friends; I realised that I would have to bid farewell to countless beloved friends in Istanbul, as well as to Istanbul itself, which I loved so dearly. And just as I would have to part from innumerable friends in this world, so too would I have to leave behind this beautiful world, which I loved and which had so captivated me. As I reflected upon this, I returned once more to that elevated spot in the cemetery.

Since I occasionally went to the cinema to draw lessons from what I saw, the people I now saw in Istanbul suddenly appeared to me like walking dead—just as in the cinema, where images of the past are brought to life and the dead appear to walk among the living.

My imagination said to me:

“Since some of those lying in this cemetery can appear alive and walking in the cinema, you should regard those who are alive today—but who will inevitably be buried in this cemetery one day—as people who have already died and whose graves are already here. They too are, in reality, walking dead.”

Yet through the light of the Qur’an and the guidance of Ghawth-i Azam“The Greatest Helper”; an honorific title of Shaykh Abd al-Qādir Gīlānī (1077–1166), the renowned Islamic scholar and Sufi master associated with the founding of the Qādiriyyah Sufi order., Shaykh GīlānīAbd al-Qādir Gīlānī; the celebrated Muslim scholar and Sufi master, founder of the Qādiriyyah order., that sorrowful state of mind was transformed into joy and relief.

The light of the Qur’an brought the following truth to my attention:

“When you were held captive in KostromaA historic city in western Russia, situated on the Volga River. During the First World War, Bediuzzaman Said Nursi was held there as a prisoner of war after being captured by Russian forces. He later escaped captivity and returned to Istanbul., in northeastern Russia, you had a few fellow prisoners, officers, among your friends. You knew that they would one day return to Istanbul. Had someone asked you then, ‘Would you rather remain in KostromaA historic city in western Russia, situated on the Volga River. During the First World War, Bediuzzaman Said Nursi was held there as a prisoner of war after being captured by Russian forces. He later escaped captivity and returned to Istanbul. or go to Istanbul?’, you would, if you had even a little sense, have gladly chosen to go to Istanbul.

For of your thousand friends, nine hundred and ninety-nine were already there, in Istanbul. Only a few remained with you, and they too would eventually depart for that city. Thus, going to Istanbul would not have meant a sorrowful separation for you, but a joyful reunion. And were you not happy when you arrived? For you had been delivered from the long, dark nights and the cold, stormy winters of that hostile land and had reached a city as beautiful as Paradise.

Likewise, since your youth, ninety-nine out of every hundred people you have loved have departed for the cemetery—a place you had regarded with dread.