When we finally finished tomorrow's work, it was time to leave; the five of us turned our route towards Istiklal. We got off the bus at the stops that had now been moved underground. How much could a place change? This place looked more like the Sirkeci underground market than Taksim.
I immediately remembered that we came here to have fun tonight; neither the concrete square nor the nostalgic tramway path that looked like a converted astroturf field could spoil my mood.
Swaying slightly, we drifted to the door of the tavern where we would spend the evening. Although I found it extremely strange at first, the conversations of these men started to grow on me. It wasn't their fault, really; they had only been able to develop themselves this much within the education they received and the environments they were in.
In a way, these people were one of the main factors in my escape plans abroad; I was afraid that I would gradually become a prisoner of inescapable vicious cycles like them.
"We bought a house, I need to work overtime to pay for it," "There's still a long time until the car loan is finished, let's tighten our belts," "Our kid isn't very bright anyway, he won't study..." I wanted to get away before these phrases became a part of my daily life.
While I was busy with these thoughts, the hot appetizers had arrived. Forks were going up and down on the table to create a base for the drinks everyone except me would consume. By the way, I have no relationship with alcoholic beverages; although everyone who hears this for the first time gets the impression that it's for a religious reason, as they get to know me, they see that I have no relationship with religions either and accept the truth of the matter.
I literally couldn't drink; I tried every kind, but to no avail, the moment they poured from the glass into my mouth, they came back up. It didn't look like this would change on my farewell night; even the smell of anise filling my nose the moment the seventy-cl bottle was opened was enough for me.
With the hunger of the whole day, I dove into the appetizers; I was going to handle the drink business with spicy turnip juice. We were past twenty now; I wasn't in a position to order cola or yellow soda in a tavern like a child who came to a tea garden with his mother.
My colleagues had already downed the first glasses enthusiastically and were clinking glasses loudly before drinking the second ones. What kind of joy did they have inside them? Were you guys that sick of me?
Of course, that wasn't the truth of the matter, I understood everything. They were people wearing blinders; since they didn't accept it no matter how much I wanted to explain, I had given up on hitting them in the face with this reality after a while.
Looking at their current state, it was as if they had stolen a pinch of pleasure from somewhere outside their miserable lives, from vast blue waters where there was only peace and happiness. I had no choice but to join them; besides, I had been feeling a bit strange since the belly dancer got up on our table.
Now I understand the state of mind of those men throwing money around; without caring about my poverty, I had tucked a fifty-lira bill into the outfit of the lady who knocked me out with her hips. The man of the night was none other than me; I danced the most with this beauty who danced by tossing her waist-length hair towards my face.
Time had flowed like water, and we had let it all out as if it were the last day of the world.
"Gentlemen, we are closing now!"
We were swimming in such a wave of happiness that we only realized we were the only ones left after the waiter's warning with an embarrassed tone of voice. It was exactly upon these words that they surrounded me in an instant; before I understood what was happening, there was a glass of straight raki in front of my mouth.
"Come on, son, down it in one go!"
Muharrem Abi had waited and waited, only to chase after some devilry at the last moment. This was the moment I was done for. The old man's persistence was famous; once he got obsessed, there was no possibility of escaping his hands.
"Abi, don't do this, you know I can't drink!"
I was trying to escape my fate; this action of mine, which was synonymous with rowing against the current, had not had the slightest effect on the seasoned old man.
"Drink, you scoundrel, who has ever been harmed by a glass of raki!"
It was officially over for me. I threw caution to the wind; I finished the glass in one go as soon as I took it. The place was brought down with applause as we were leaving, as if I had done something very impressive. Angrily, I pulled the handle of the outer door, which was given a nostalgic atmosphere with four small panes of glass.
The night had clearly ended; the winds heralding the morning, filling one inside with chills, were hitting my face. With my body temperature increased due to alcohol, heat, and excitement for long hours, I had to sneeze hard after a small skirmish with the colliding breeze.
"Bless you!"
"Live well!"
My colleagues, who were completely wasted, were shouting in unison. It was so strange that such a tiny event became the polish of their joy. Normally, these men, who were perpetually tense with faces like thunder, were now as cheerful as children going to the grocery store to buy soda after playing a match in the neighborhood.
"Thank you, all together!"
This phrase is a classic for us; no matter who says it, you say it back so as not to be rude, but perhaps for the first time in my life, it had come out of my mouth so fully.
I worked and strove, collected money for my dream; my visa application, my language school were all ready, and starting tomorrow, I was flying like a bird far away.
My last night was ending with seeing the warm faces of the people I had worked shoulder to shoulder with for two years, sometimes fighting, sometimes watching their backs; I wouldn't grieve even if I died after this hour.
"Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar."
"Whoa, is it time for the morning prayer already?"
One of the team spoke in astonishment; how the man had lost track of time when he found the opportunity to have a little fun in his boring life.
"Bzzzzuuuuuuuuuuuuuvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv!"
Along with the end of the adhan, a terrifying horn sound was heard; it resembled the sound of an instrument of the kind that informs everyone in the castles that enemy forces are approaching.
Subsequently, I was startled by the sound of collapsing from my right side; when I quickly turned in that direction, I found Muharrem Abi kneeling on the ground with his hands open, praying.
"Oh God, forgive me, forgive the sins I have committed. You are great, You are omnipotent!"
The man, whose mustache tips were yellowed from cigarettes, was praying with such speed and breathing out that my mind, slightly cleared from the smell of raki mixing into the environment, was about to get drunk again.
In the next moment, I found the whole team doing the same movements; what happened that they suddenly started worshipping in such fear?
I would be saved from this thought occupying my mind when the light of the newborn sun hit my head, because I had understood, albeit slowly, what was happening.
Everyone has a side they are good at in this life; some have the ability to be friends with numbers, some with words. My navigation ability allowed me to stand out from other people from birth; I could tell you the directions at a glance like a walking compass.
I guess that was why I knew I witnessed the end of the cheerfully passing night and the morning continuing at the same speed by watching the sun rise from the west.
I don't remember what happened after that at all. When I opened my eyes, I was in a place where people from every race and nation were packed like sardines. The ground was dry, the soil cracked; the sun, which was in the sky when I last remembered, had come almost on top of my head, thrusting its scorching rays like swords.
Everything I convinced myself wouldn't happen had happened; I guess the apocalypse had broken out, and we were all gathered to wait for the moment of reckoning.