The Colour Of the Room



LİFE WAS withdrawing at a fast rate. Just as a faded leaf withers, the city was also withering, losing its liveliness, withdrawing into itself. The city folk closed up in their various rooms at work from morning to night were now impatient to get to the rooms of their houses, rushing, pushing, angry at any obstruction. The journey between rooms had started. Or the journey between boxes was another way of putting it.

He boarded the minibus. He had eaten his dinner at home a little while earlier and had left in a hurry to make it on time for the evening radio program. While eating his dinner his wife had informed him that the sun was in the process of going down and that it would be nice if he could spare the time to watch it awhile. So, leaving his dinner briefly he looked out the window and then returned to his meal. When his wife wanted to talk, he said that he wasn't ready for the evening program and that he had to concentrate on that. So his wife had preferred to remain silent. She knew her husband, she knew that he could get irritated, even angry if distracted.

Suddenly he thought of Karen. Karen was a psychologist. He had met her at a conference in Copenhagen. He had told her about himself. "I feel as though I'm living in three boxes. The first box is the room in my house. The second box is my office at work. And the third box is the vehicle I travel in." When he said this, Karen had paused, her voice took on a sad tone and she said, "I also have three boxes. The first box is me. The second box is the country I live in and the third box is the world we live in." Karen was living in three dark boxes. Three boxes that she couldn't conquer, that she couldn't illuminate and that she couldn't get out of. Three boxes that she couldn't give any meaning to and that she didn't understand herself. He recalled that these words had hit him like a thunderbolt. Especially her image of herself and her existence as a box that she was crammed into, that she couldn't get out of, that she was drowning in. It hurt him to know that she was cheating herself of life's opportunities. He couldn't remember if he had ever heard an expression such as that one. A person's perception of their existence as a box was something that he still couldn't comprehend, that he was still perplexed by.

Now he knew how to begin his radio program. One thought had led to another and now here he was at an unexpected point. He was amazed at this. Just a half an hour earlier his mind had been blank, now the ideas were flowing like a waterfall and he was having trouble keeping up.

Without disturbing them, he glanced at the people around him. These people were withdrawing into themselves like the day that was retreating around them. It was like every body was in a box. They were wedged inside.

He had made a habit of studying people's faces, trying to find out the reasons for any changes that may have occurred. Looking at the faces on the minibus he saw different spiritual states. Some faces were tense, some were anxious, some were despairing, yet others were dejected. The person sitting next to him was like a ghost, still and lifeless, moving only when the minibus jolted him. He was totally buried in himself, like he was living in a well that descended deep inside him. As if he didn't belong to this world. He wished that he was acquainted with him so that he could talk to him but he was also a little annoyed at himself for being so interested in other people's lives.

With the sudden braking of the minibus his glance automatically shifted outside to a person trampling the autumn leaves underfoot as he walked under a tree. He tried to see his face but couldn't make it out. Was he aware of the leaves around him?

When he arrived in Kadikoy, the radio program he was about to present was clear in his mind. The inspiration he was waiting for had arrived. After clarifying the last detail in his mind, he too became absorbed in his own world. He had another minibus to catch. The person in front of him in the queue was reading a newspaper. The clouds over the harbour had turned orange. The sky above the water was virtually becoming one with the land.

II.

He reluctantly opened the door of his apartment and walked in. With despondent steps he went into the living room. He fell on the sofa in an exhausted state. His body felt like jelly. He didn't even have the strength to lift his arm. The weariness of his spirit met the weariness of his muscles and together they gave him no chance to move, confining him to the sofa, isolating him from the world, cutting all links, and leaving him all alone.

He sighed again."How many times is that?" he asked himself and sighed again for the unknown number of times he had already sighed. The pain that had begun above his chest and moved to his throat didn't let up, it tightened his chest, constricting him, restricting his every move, taking him out of the world he was living in. He put his hand to his throat. If only he could get a hold of the pain, if he could catch it with his bare hands he would cast it off, maybe even strangle it. But instead the pain was strangling him. The only thing he did when he was distressed was to walk about. He could do this with ease at home, but at work the odd looks made him uncomfortable. He was worried about what people might say about him. He didn't want others to know what he was going through, so he would force himself to sit at his desk, occasionally making like he was going to the bathroom, trying to lighten his troubles,

His cigarettes came to mind. He brightened up. He lit one up straight away. He blew the smoke into the air. His eyes followed the smoke rings. The slowly rising smoke suddenly disappeared."If only I could disappear like that" he bemoaned.

His distress was a little lighter now. He sat back down on the sofa. He couldn't sit like this until morning. He realised that he hadn't taken off his jacket and shirt. He thought he might feel better if he took them off and did so, flinging them across the sofa. He didn't sit back down but started pacing about again. "If only I could throw off this life I'm living as easily as I throw off these clothes", he said. He couldn't though. He couldn't strip off his life, he couldn't get out of it, he didn't know which road to take out of the thousands that lay before him. "I have to change my life" he said to himself. He recalled that he had said this hundreds of times before. He felt fed up. He kept seeing this change as happening outside, he was sure that his living conditions had to change if he was to find a solution to his problem. "If I had more money would my unhappiness go away"? he asked himself. "You'll be fine once you marry, son", his mother used to tell him often. Everything that he envisaged in his mind as a solution was actually complicating things even more. Everything he first thought of as a solution he later saw as part of the problem.

What was he to do now in this room? "Could someone who didn't know what to do with his life know what to do in a room?" He didn't know. He looked around. He wanted something to distract him. He picked up the nearest thing to him. He pressed the button. A voice and a picture appeared. At one time he had questioned the need for a remote control. "A person could get up and turn the television on themselves", he used to think. He didn't think like that now. This device was made for him. He felt deserted, debilitated, weak and totally worn out. The remote control had come to his rescue, it did the job without him having to get up himself.

He didn't like the program. He pressed another button and changed the channel. And then changed it again. He liked this. This way, he was taking his mind off things, he was moving away from himself.

A sad person appeared on screen, crying. Why were they crying? He paid careful attention. Maybe they had something in common. The picture on the screen disappeared. "That was me", he said, "that person looked so much like me". Thus he was reminded of himself again. He couldn't stand it. He changed the channel once more. The news came on. He was not watching television because he liked it or because he got any sort of pleasure in doing so. He just wanted to think about something other than himself. The best way to do this was to concern himself with news from afar, to ponder and reflect on other events far, far away. And just when he had wanted to distract himself, here he was faced with his own life again. "What to do now?". He asked for the last time the question that he had probably asked most often in life. He could do a thousand diferent things. He could travel, go for a walk, go to the cinema, go shopping. Should he visit a friend? Maybe a little conversation would do him some good. He listed the other options in his mind: go on holiday, go swimming, walk the streets, try eating out at a new restaurant, read a book, go for a Sunday stroll in the Belgrade Forest, flick through the newspaper or some magazines, look at the ads, get in the car and drive aimlessly to the first place that comes to mind.

He felt vexed again. In his eyes all of these activities seemed bigger than they really were. Wherever he went wasn't he going to take his heart with him? Wasn't his heart the seat of all his worries and distress? He chose the easiest option. He leaned toward the coffee table. There was a second remote control there. He picked it up and pressed the button. The radio which was right opposite the television came on. The room was filled with sound and seemed to gain a bit of life. When the sound of the radio interfered with that of the TV he turned the volume on the radio down.

The news was on all the channels. He watched them all in turn. The device in his hand was very handy, it made it easy for him to go from channel to channel without tiring him. "The same old news", he said. He was taken by a commercial. A new piece of music playing softly on the radio caught his attention. He pricked up his ears. Before long, the radio presenter said,"Did you know that a very important event is taking place in Istanbul right now?"

At once he felt excited. He was hoping to experience something out of the ordinary. "An important event", he said. It could make him forget everything. The presenter continued, "I'll get back to you with this news in a short while", and was then silent.

He felt his body tense up. He looked around the room. The light was not moving. The walls were still. He felt a bit better. A little while passed and he felt tense again. He got angry. "Why do they leave us in suspense? If something important has happened they should tell us straight away ". The telephone rang. He turned the volume on the radio down. His friend was on the line. They talked about this and that for a while. He talked unwillingly and without enthusiasm. At last his friend asked him what he wanted to know.

"These past few days you're not yourself, you look down. You seem withdrawn. Do you have a problem?"

He didn't like this question. So, he had been caught out. And all the while he had wanted to be seen as having no problems, he had tried to hide his worries.

"No, there's nothing. I'm fine. Don't worry".

The conversation was over. He had lied. He felt bad that he had lied. Then he remembered the radio. "What was this important event that not one TV channel had bothered to broadcast?"

He turned the volume up. He was very curious. "God damn it, they find just the right time to phone. They never phone when you need them but they're sure to phone if it's a bad time."

There was only some New Age piece playing on the radio. "Wait, maybe they'll give the news again," he said.

In situations like these a person feels the flow of time more intensely. They perceive time with a heightened sensitivity. The time he was living in had slowed down. Gradually he became more and more aware of time flowing.

"At this instant everyone of us is living in a box. Some of us are in a room, some are in a car. Or for some, our own existence is a box to us. There are two things I would like you to do. Firstly, I want you to open and close your eyes briefly. Everything has gone black, hasn't it? Outside it is light, but your own world that you live in and through which you perceive the outer world has gone dark. Now open your eyes again. What happened? You left yourselves at the mercy of the light. You went from darkness to light easily, simply, gently, effortlessly, with the blink of an eye. This was just an example. Why shouldn't it be as easy to free oneself from pain, offence, anguish, sorrow and grief?"

The presenter was silent. The background music played on. He blinked maybe ten times. With every closing of his eyes, he was actually preventing the light from reaching him. His eyelids functioned as a curtain. And this was so simple. To be a curtain. And everywhere darkness...To experience darkness in a brightly lit room. To remain in darkness in spite of the light. To remain in darkness in a place of light without extinguishing that light ( no-one can extinguish the light of the sun). And so easily too. The point that got to him most was the ease and speed of it all. To move into the light was the same. It was enough to simply not draw the curtain. He wanted to take in all of the light on the face of the earth.

While concentrating on his eyelids, he had forgotten about the important event. He was filled with curiosity again. The background music was still playing on the radio. He continued to open and close his eyes as if he had developed a tic. He was aware that he had made a game out of it. He liked this game. He felt like playing it over and over again. One after another he opened and closed his eyes at least ten times. He had found hope in this game.

When the presenter came on again, he held his breath. He turned the volume up and focussed entirely on the radio.

"Everyone is in a room at this moment. Look at the walls around you." The silence was back.

He looked at the walls. They were a pale yellow.

"Now count the pieces of furniture in your room"

In his room there was a TV, a table, a stereo, a sofa and a bookcase. He realised that he had forgotten the carpet on the floor. He added it to the list.

"What is the difference between the state of your room now and an hour earlier?"

This man was driving him crazy. There was still no news of the important event. At the same time he was willing to do everything the presenter asked of him, it had become a game to him. The only difference between this room now and an hour earlier was that he wasn't in the room then. The TV and radio were present but they were not turned on. Also the clothes he had taken off were not on the sofa then. He couldn't find any other difference.

"First of all, you looked at the items of furniture in your room. Apart from a few minor details you didn't find any major difference. Right now something very important happened in Istanbul. The sun went down over the horizon. All of the rays of light of the vast sun gathered up one by one to leave the sun as round as a ball. But not one news agency reported this. It was not broadcast on any TV channel. Because it was not considered newsworthy. Because it was considered ordinary. It's an event that happens everyday. It is not deemed miraculous as though it's an event that must repeat itself everyday, as if it occurs on its own, as if it's obligatory for the sun to go down everyday. There's another wonderful aspect of the suns going down my radio friends. The sun also went down on your room. The horizon was not the only thing left in darkness. Your room is also slowly being buried in darkness. Even though the furniture in your room is the same, the colour of your room is slowly changing. Tomorrow the suns rays of light will be brought to your feet once more. Tomorrow the sun will not just rise over the horizon, it will also rise over your room. The colour of your room will change once more. This change will be brought about by light only. The One Who holds the sun in His hands will alter entirely the colour of your room. He will take it out of darkness and bring it into light.

"This life of ours is like a room. A room without light however can become a box for us. As a listener from the previous program said, our lives will become an unfamiliar body box into which we are crammed. We all want to get out of this box. But we can't get out of our lives. This is not in our hands. It is out of our power to abandon this life since we didn't choose this life of our own will, since we didn't create our own lives. Our life was given to us. In trying to create a new life for ourselves we would first start by searching for conditions outside of us. But we don't have the power to do this. In actual fact we need a guiding force in our lives, we need to be shown the way. The first thing we must do is to lift the curtain. You tried it just now and saw for yourself. On closing your eyes, your whole world was draped in darkness. On opening them everywhere was filled with light. There is a fine line between day and night. The day and the night and the world around us is the same. The difference is in the light. Whoever changed the colour of the earth and the colour of your room can also change the colour of our lives."
Silence once more. He closed his eyes. He stayed there like that for a while. He was lost in thought. He felt so close to the sun which was so far away from him. He opened his eyes. He would wait for the morning. With the filtering of the sunlight into his room he would see a new path awaiting him. The One Who changed the colour of his room could also change the colour of his world.

Mustafa Ulusoy - karakalem.net