He went to the war in Iraq and returned with love songs. Together we had often walked the back streets of Istanbul. ?You?ve come at the perfect time? he said Nilgun and Ozcan prepared the table for yet another home cooked meal. This was a stolen moment, in between Tokyo and Prague. A night halt to see my old friends and breathe the air of Taksim Square.
As always it was Ozcan I turned to, to make sense of the complex politics that surrounded Turkey. I knew of the trees and how the resistance grew from the small gathering to protect them to the massive collection we were witnessing.? But that didn?t explain it all. My thoughts wandered to Shahbag. To the clusters gathering on the night of February 5th. I had stopped my bicycle on the way back from Shilpakala Academy, where the closing events of Chobi Mela, our festival of photography was taking place. The torchlight processions had been spontaneous, the gatherings organic, but there was hope in the air. Continue reading “Selling Tayyip at Taksim Square”
Skip to content
Musings by Shahidul Alam