Kinza’s Blog

Flowers are beautiful and being loved unconditionally irrespective of, to which garden they belong. They bring delight no matter what. They are the symbols of hope, innocence and beauty. Their fragrance is something to be longed for. Same is true for the kids too. These small angels cheerily running around, possessing innocent and cute gestures, easily molded like a clay, are the flowers of their parent’s garden and source of their smiles and peace to their hearts.

In this era of gloom and miseries, the freshness of the flowers has been stolen by the monsters of the society. Visibly they might be just stealing their freshness but deep down they are crushing their dreams, passions, snatching their innocence and brutally killing their self esteem and ultimately converting them into precocious widowers who have lost everything even before seeing the world. They are no more kids then. An eight year old might have the cognitive ability of an 18 year old. The guilt remains in them for so long (considering their mistake of what’s done) that barely any night goes peaceful or hardly a dry portion left on the pillow. The laughter of their peers serves as the source of noise pollution only. They start living into their shells hence becoming nothing but introverts. They are easily be recognized in the group being the quietest and hell shy. In the meantime, they learn how to handle themselves, how to appear normal outside when there’s a killing storm inside, how to wake up fresh as they have the most peaceful sleep at night, perfectly depicting themselves as “A lively being with a dead soul”.

That dead soul is ultimately encroached by an old man who neither has any sexual desires, attraction to romance and love (as the peers of their age) nor any kind of such expectations. They either just don’t dream about it or don’t want to and that’s the worst thing and the entire blame is on the bloody monster’s head. They’ve invented various escape routes for them so that they may not be able to feel anything. Meanwhile, their hearts are touching the heights of purity and become soft like butter. They understand others so well that they start welcoming their pains and accumulate them under their wings. But their small pure hearts are crushed when they are misunderstood and blamed for what they haven’t done and that’s because they’re unable to fight for themselves and haven’t spoken to anyone of how were their souls pierced once.

TO THE MONSTER,

Didn’t your heart skip a beat while ruining a flower? Didn’t you think, even for once, what were you doing? Didn’t for once you get a thought of your own flower who may face the same? Didn’t you think of your parent’s honor? Didn’t you get panic attack while looking at the blossoming flower who could never be same again? Didn’t you even for once think of getting punished for this? If no one was watching you…. GOD WAS THERE….! How could you even think of living a peaceful life after this? How could you live without the fear of your own flowers being crushed now? CAN YOU?

TO THE CRUSHED FLOWERS,

You are beautiful with a pure heart and spotless soul. Whatever you have gone through, is not your fault. We are sorry for not understanding you and refusing to give you the shoulder when you needed the most. We are sorry for being unavailable when you wanted to speak up and you didn’t because you will be labelled by our small fragile minds. You must remember one thing, YOU WERE NOT AT FAULT. We stand by you and will be standing for you.

Identical twins, Pembe and Jamila, were added to the Berzo’s family though unwanted in front of the desire for having a son, grew up in the hands of step-mother as their own mother died while fighting with the last pregnancy afterwards. Growing up in the same worm doesn’t guarantee the same fate, so did they. Love touched the growing heart of Jamila who found life in Adem. How fragile was that love which lost its soul upon hearing that she was kidnapped once and nobody knew she was still virgin or not. Adem decided to marry the other twin who loved to travel and wanted to see beyond horizons but left a portion of his heart and happiness with Jamila.

Elif Shafak posses the art of story telling, mingling harsh social realities with deepening emotions floating over the sparkling ocean of spirituality and sprinkling suspense over the top as finishing. The book opens in the darkness of the prison where a young boy is held accountable of murdering her mother in the name of honour. A sister, who hates her brother but he’s a brother after all, is writing the story who wants to tell the tale “How her mother died twice”. The book vividly portrays the patriarchy, women subjugation and broken personalities who have nothing in them but its all the society who’s driving them towards the end.

Life started in Istanbul and ended in London. Together they had 3 kids, each with entirely different genetic makeup. Eldest one, Iskander turned Alex (when reached London) had fire in him. Being ditched several times in childhood when he least expected, made him a boy who felt the need to protect himself all alone and never be weak to fell prey to anyone. The kind of family where father was involved in gambling, losing money of his wife which she earned by working in rich houses, calling her prostitute, beating her and himself abandoning his family for a slut, the eldest son felt the responsibility of saving the family’s honour. He grew faster than his age. Pembe called her “Sultan”, the apple of her eye, saved him from the ghost of her late mother, who wanted a son.Middle one, Esma, was a good reader. Spending her most of the time in books, lacking the girlish qualities of the time. Younas, the youngest, had a small body with large brain.

The plot gets the twist as soon as Pembe met Elias. A man who’s wife took divorced and his life stopped somewhere till he met Pembe. Despite of being married, Pembe never felt for Adem, who kept on regretting the decision of marrying her, what she felt for Elias. She tasted what’s the feel of being loved and protected. They kept on meeting until the day they were caught by Tariq, Adem’s elder brother, who empoisoned Alex with his thoughts about his mother’s illicit relationship. The feeling of being the head of family and the responsibility of protecting the family’s honour being stained caught him and he decided to take the step which he’s gonna regret the rest of his life.

Meanwhile, Jamila, who decided never to get married was serving as a mid wife in the village, felt the urge to visit her twin. Being worried of what Pembe told her about Elias, she wanted to fix things. Alex strictly forbidden her not to leave home and unaware of the arrival of aunt, he mistakenly stabbed her with a dagger and took her life. Newspaper had a big headline next day.

“16 year old boy killed his mother for Honour”

Elif remarkably places cultural prospects with the society. Being Turkish native, Pembe took the native values with her. Even London’s breeze couldn’t spoil the essence. She kept on preaching her daughter to be a modest one yet Alex enjoyed all the privileges for being a man. The same Alex who tried to save the honour of his family from getting stained, had a 16 year old pregnant girlfriend of his and that obviously didn’t ruin the “HONOUR”. Younas, getting least attention from her mother, found the love of his life, a 20 year old young lady living among the squatters who wanted to overthrow the capitalist system. He used to spend much of his time there planing a future for both of them.

Elif brilliantly puts the feels in her words. The book unwind many of the issues at the same time. Improper socialization, patriarchy being transmitted over generations, issues of unclear visions and life prospects, suspicious natures, the urge of sons and the “HONOUR’ obviously that ultimately guards the respect of family. Broken and disturbed families produce off springs who in return cause the upheaval in the stability of the society. She perfectly portrays the clash between the cultures and norms followed by heart breaks that can torn anyone inside while reading.