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It was a sunny balmy morning. But the guide had warned tourists to wear a windcheater or some warm clothing as the Bosphorus cruise was going to be extremely windy and chilly. Nisha wore her regular red quilted jacket, blue jeans and a beanie to cover her head and ears. Raj wore something similar—his black quilted jacket over his dark blue jeans. Raj and Nisha hopped on to a small ocean liner and took a seat at the upper deck.
Suddenly dark clouds started appearing and the sky became overcast in no time. As the ship moved, it became quite windy. The icy cold winds slapped Nisha’s face and as usual her cheeks and nose became red. She was warmly clad yet shivering. Istanbul as ever looked magnificent even from the seas.
The tourist guide grabbed a mike and asked:
“Can everybody hear me?”
“Yes,” said everyone in a chorus.
“Okay. So ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Bosphorus cruise. It is going to be an hour long tour and we’ll show you both the European and the Asian side of Istanbul. But first a little bit of geography.”
“Bosphorus is a strait that connects the Black Sea with the Mediterranean Sea. It also divides Istanbul into two continents: Asia and Europe. Right now we’re in Europe. In half an hour we’ll reach Asia,” said the tourist guide.
Nisha smiled despite the cold. The tourist guide spoke with enthusiasm. He told that the European side of Istanbul was also known as the Old Istanbul. The Asian side has been referred to as the New Istanbul. She noticed that Istanbul looked very green and very hilly despite being so densely populated. The Old Istanbul was full of grand mosques towering above the landscape. She’d had that experience from her tram journey but now she was seeing the landscape from a different perspective.
The spring sky was absolutely grey and depressing. Raj was excited to see a few sea gulls flying over them. He immediately took out his digital camera and tried to click pictures. But the sea gulls were impatient and didn’t pose for him.
The tourist guide picked the mike again.
“You’ll see the Dolmabahçe Palace over there. This palace was constructed in the 18th century and was heavily influenced by European Style. The construction of the Dolmabahçe Palace was ordered by Sultan, Abdülmecid I. Previously, the Sultan and his family had lived at the Topkapı Palace but that looked very medieval to the Sultan. So he wanted to build a new palace which reflected the style of the European monarchs,” explained the tourist guide.
Nisha looked at the palace. It did look very European in style, as if it had just been transported from France or Italy. There was nothing Turkish about it. Nevertheless, it was beautiful. The next site was the University of Istanbul.
Then she saw a bridge appearing out of nowhere.
The tourist guide picked up his mike.
“Do you see the bridge over there?”
Everyone was so cold by now that they could just nod.
“That bridge connects the European side and the Asian side of Istanbul. It is called Boğaziçi Köprüsü in Turkish,” said the tourist guide.
The name made no sense to Nisha. It was Greek to her. Oh sorry—Turkish. But she understood the purpose.
The ship slowly reached the Asian side. Nisha noticed that the Asian side looked so different from the European side. It looked like a completely different city. More modern. More commercial. Skyscrapers. Strangely the Asian side felt a little warmer too.
Nisha loved fantasising. Imagining things. She imagined how thousands of sailors throughout the ancient, medieval and modern world sailed through the Bosphorus. Crossing two continents. In their wooden ships, armed with side cannons, and with sails depicting all kinds of fancy symbols: crosses, dragons, snakes, etc. She looked at the waves. They looked so gentle yet so mysterious, hiding the details of so many bloody battles that had taken place over their bosoms. She closed her eyes and focused her mind on the sounds of splashing and the sea gulls.
Nisha suddenly thought about the conundrum. Is the Bosphorus strait in Europe or in Asia? Or both. Or in neither of the two. Her mind drifted to something else. Does she see herself as a cancer victim or a survivor? Europe or Asia? Victim or survivor?
Her mind was becoming overactive. More questions. No answers. Only puzzles. No solutions. And then a light flashed in front of her eyes. It was an important realisation.
Ever since her lung cancer was diagnosed, she had forgotten the most important thing in life. To love herself. She’d blamed herself. Her body. Her soul. Her karma. Her destiny. Her parents. Her studio. Her astrologers. Knowingly or unknowingly, she’d forgotten to love herself. And that was the sole cause for depression. For her abject surrender.
Without loving herself first, how could she love Raj? If she hated herself, she would knowingly or unknowingly hate Raj. Hate him—for coming into her life and making things look so wonderful? Hate him—because she was the one who became a burden on him? Hate him—because she destroyed his career?
It was all because of hating herself. Or the thousands of other phrases she used to denote the same thing. “I’m the unlucky one.” “It’s my fault.” “I think we should part ways”—just to name a few.
Had she loved herself, she would have reached a totally different conclusion. That she was herself responsible for guiding her destiny. What happened, happened. But she could still take some positive steps to improve her life. And Raj’s life. She’d been angry at Raj for more or less abandoning his job. But what about her? She’d left singing because she could sing no more. She had accepted defeat. But she could still help others. So did she even try?
Being a victim or a survivor may sound the same. But in reality, it is like crossing two continents. Like Europe and Asia. There is a world of difference between the two words. The stretch may be small—just like crossing the Bosphorus strait. Yet it is a courageous journey. It sounds easy to love yourself. But it’s often the most difficult thing to do.
Nisha’s emotions were in a whirlwind. She realised she had been treating herself as a victim. With no hope. Now she needed to cross her own Bosphorus strait and become a survivor. She promised herself—she’d love herself first before loving others.
That from now on, she’ll take charge of her life and her destiny. She promised herself—that she’ll resume doing what she loved doing. And that nothing can stop her. She promised herself—that she’ll not shed any more tears. No more.
Suddenly as in agreement the dark clouds dissipated and the sun appeared. Shining bright. Its rays blessing her. Heralding the beginning of summer. The weather warmed up all of a sudden. And the ocean water turned into a shiny deep blue colour. The ocean waves smiled at Nisha. The warm sun embraced her.
The Bosphorus spoke to her:
“Welcome survivor! I’m glad you could find the answers you were looking for. They were hidden deep beneath my surface, and yet you succeeded. But there is something I want to say to you. As a fairy godmother, I’m proud of you. My little girl, you have re-discovered yourself. You have been reborn. And I feel so proud that I gave birth to a new you. To a new way of thinking. I wish that this will be a new beginning in your relationship with Raj. When you are successful, please don’t forget me. Always remember that I’ll love you like your mother.”
Suddenly a big wave dashed against the ship’s hull and Nisha’s face was sprayed with a few droplets. She knew the Bosphorus had blessed her.
She squeezed Raj’s arms. He looked towards her.
“Raj, I’ve finally understood the purpose of my life.”
