Elif Shafak is one of Turkey’s most acclaimed and outspoken novelists

Aladdin 
KONYA, MAY 1247
Being forced into a decision that I knew I would deeply regret later, I remained silent and did not 
openly object to this marriage. But on the day Kimya was going to be married to Shams, I woke 
up with a pain such as I had never felt before. I sat up in bed gasping for breath like a drowning 
man, and then, annoyed with myself for wallowing in self-pity I slapped my face again and 
again. A strangled sigh escaped my lips. And it was that sound that made me realize I wasn’t my 
father’s son anymore. 
I had no mother. No father. No brother. And no Kimya. I was all alone in the world. What little 
remained of my respect for my father had disappeared overnight. Kimya was like a daughter to 
him. I thought he cared about her. But apparently the only person he really cared about was 
Shams of Tabriz. How could he marry Kimya to a man like him? Anyone could see that Shams 
would make a terrible husband. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that just to 
make Shams safe, my father had sacrificed Kimya’s happiness—and along with it mine. 
I spent the whole day struggling with these thoughts while having to watch the preparations. The 
house was spruced up, and the bedroom where the newlyweds would sleep was cleansed with 
rosewater to ward off evil spirits. But they forgot the biggest evil! How were they going to fend 
off Shams? 
By late afternoon I couldn’t stand it anymore. Determined not to be part of a celebration that 
meant only torture for me, I headed for the door. 
“Aladdin, wait! Where are you going?” My brother’s voice came from behind me, loud and 
sharp. 
“I am going to stay at Irshad’s house tonight,” I said without looking at him. 
“Have you gone crazy? How can you not stay for the wedding? If our father hears this it will 
break his heart.” 

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I could feel rage rising from the pit of my stomach. “How about the hearts our father is 
breaking?” 
“What are you talking about?” 
“Don’t you get it? Our father arranged this marriage just to please Shams and make sure he 
doesn’t run away again! He offered Kimya to him on a silver tray.” 
My brother pursed his lips, looking hurt. “I know what you are thinking, but you are wrong. You 
think this is a forced marriage,” he said, “whereas it was Kimya who wanted to marry Shams.” 
“As if she had a choice in the matter,” I snapped. 
“Oh, God! Don’t you understand?” my brother exclaimed, lifting both palms up as though asking 
help from God. “She is in love with Shams.” 
“Don’t say that again. That is not true.” My voice cracked like thawing ice. 
“My brother,” Sultan Walad said, “please don’t let your feelings veil your eyes. You are jealous. 
But even jealousy can be used in a constructive way and serve a higher purpose. Even disbelief 
can be positive. It is one of the rules. Rule Number Thirty-five: In this world, it is not similarities 
or regularities that take us a step forward, but blunt opposites. And all the opposites in the 
universe are present within each and every one of us. Therefore the believer needs to meet the 
unbeliever residing within. And the nonbeliever should get to know the silent faithful in him. 
Until the day one reaches the stage of Insan-i Kâmil, the perfect human being, faith is a gradual 
process and one that necessitates its seeming opposite: disbelief. 
That was the last straw for me. 
“Look here, I’m sick of all this syrupy Sufi talk. Besides, why should I listen to you? It’s all your 
fault! You could have left Shams in Damascus. Why did you bring him back? If things get 
messy, and I am sure they will, you are the one who is responsible.” 
My brother gnawed the insides of his mouth with a look that verged on fearfulness. I realized in 
that instant that for the first time in our lives he was frightened of me and the things I was 
capable of doing. It was a bizarre feeling, but strangely comforting. 
As I walked to Irshad’s house, taking the side streets that reeked of foul smells so that nobody 
would see me cry, I could think of only one thing: Shams and Kimya sharing the same bed. The 
thought of him taking her wedding dress off and touching her milky skin with his rough, ugly 
hands was revolting. My stomach was tied in knots. 
I knew that a line had been crossed. Somebody had to do something. 

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