The Astral Ordinance
Ayshen’s Story
Meltem Y. K
Copyright 2013 by Meltem Y. K
The bell rang, marking the end of another school day. Ayshen wished a pleasant afternoon to her grade five students and reminded them to do their homework. She was a popular teacher among students and families alike. The children loved her dedication and smiling face. They studied hard and did their best just to please her. The parents loved her too. She was bombarded with compliments and letters of recommendation to her Principal for the very fine job she was doing with her students.
Life was good, Ayshen thought. She was happy and fulfilled with her career. She was a fine example of how a good education equalled a good career and better opportunities in life. She only wished her mother would not freak out so much over her status as a single woman. As far as Mother was concerned, Ayshen’s life would be perfect only when she was happily married.
“Mother, I am perfectly happy with my life as it is,” she had said on more than one occasion - to no avail. “Don’t you believe in Kismet? When the time is right, I will meet someone I will like enough to marry; and preferably I will fall in love with my future husband.”
“Honey, of course I believe in Kismet, but one must do certain things to create opportunities to help out so, Kismet can do its thing. You take one look at your prospects and turn them down flat. You don’t even give them a chance.”
Ayshen’s mother shook her head desperately. She knew this was a losing battle between them. Ayshen was stubborn as a goat when it came to the topic of her finding a husband and marrying.
“Mother, I don’t doubt that I will meet someone and marry one day, but I am in no hurry.”
Her mother gave her a chilling look. “You aren’t getting any younger.”
“I know, I am practically an old maid in your book, but twenty-seven isn’t really that old.”
“I had three kids when I was your age,” her mother countered.
“I know, but times have changed, Mother. Science has put man on the moon, why can’t we be more progressive and let women have a career and enjoy their freedom without the stigma of not being married?”
Her mother decided to change tactics. “Your grandmother is blaming us for giving you too much freedom and spoiling you. A young woman’s first priority is to find herself a suitable husband and make a good marriage, carve her own place in society. You cannot possibly do that as a single woman. People will talk.”
Ayshen knew that her mother would resort to crying if she thought it would help, but Ayshen wasn’t about to buckle. She would produce her own tears. It was Tit for Tat. She refused to be forced into marriage just for the sake of marrying. For all her practicality Ayshen was a romantic at heart. Her parents had arranged great marriages by introducing proper eligible partners for their older children who were now happily married and were busy raising their families.
Ayshen would not let them do it for her.
Ayshen’s own parents were still in love after decades of marriage. Of course, her own mother was married at the tender age of eighteen and luckily to a man she was secretly in love with. She had heard the stories: Her mother was seventeen when Ayshen’s grandfather had taken ill and the daughter was sent was to the local pharmacy to fetch the prescription as her two elder brothers were away from home. The young lady had frequented the pharmacy and met the dashing young man, who was a new graduate. The young pharmacist was smitten by the dutiful daughter and could not wait for the school year to end, so he could ask for her hand in marriage. Back then young people attending high school were not permitted to be engaged; otherwise, they would be expelled from school. Ayshen’s father had to suffer in silence and wait for his beloved to graduate, before they could make things legal. Until then, there were a lot of secret rendezvous and love letters that exchanged hands. The day Ayshen’ other graduated from high school, she was also declared engaged and was married within a few months. Ayshen fantasized that one day, she too would fall passionately in love as her parents had years ago.
She just hadn’t met Mr. Right yet.
Of course, her status as a single female made really easy reading of her coffee cup; people always saw “rings” in her cup - a sign that she would soon be engaged. So, Ayshen stopped having her cup read. She didn’t need false predictions that she was about to meet her Mr. Right.
Mr. Right could surprise her. He didn’t need to be announced in a coffee cup.
Alas, her mother more than made up for Ayshen’s lack of interest in having her fortune read. Mother told all her friends to let her know if they heard of a good fortune teller. She would be knocking on their door, trying to unlock the mystery that surrounded her daughter’s lack of interest in finding a husband. The fortune tellers she visited told her to relax; her daughter was not destined to be a spinster. She would one day make a good marriage.
One day wasn’t good enough for Ayshen’s mother. She wanted her daughter married sooner rather than later. She also visited amulet makers who promised that their wares would bring a wonderful Kismet to the daughter in question if she wore the object they had skillfully prepared.
Ayshen refused to wear them, driving her mother crazy.
She blamed her husband for spoiling the girl too much.
He would tell her to relax.
And she would double her efforts.
It was through one of her contacts in the underground world of fortune telling - a second cousin’s wife’s sister – who called to let Mother know of an old lady who practiced the mystical art of water gazing. Mother was thrilled; these people were rare individuals who performed miraculous deeds. She was determined to drag Ayshen there, and she knew exactly how she would do it. Mother’s birthday was coming up. She would tell Ayshen that, to mark the occasion, they would visit the old lady and have her gaze into water and do a reading for them. Ayshen could not possibly refuse her mother’s birthday wish. This was a done deal.
On the appointed day, Ayshen dutifully followed her mother to the old lady’s residence, which was quite a ways away from their own district. This was a really old part of town; the woman lived in a miniscule house with a wonderful inner court. Her gardens were spectacular. High walls surrounded the property. The tiny anteroom led to the gardens where people sat and admired the beautiful plants, most of them in bloom, and waited for their turn.
“Mother, I thought you made an appointment,” Ayshen said upon entering the house.
“One does not make an appointment with a mystic, dear,” her mother chastised. “One comes and respectfully waits for one’s turn.”
“So we just sit here and make small talk with all these strangers?” Ayshen asked under her breath.
“Think of this as an adventure,” her mother whispered. “We are lucky to have been informed about her. Such people don’t like their name passed around.”
“Why is that?” Ayshen asked. “How else would they build up their business?”
“They don’t want to be spotted by the Police, dear. On account of some charlatans, mystical consultations are against the law. This is the government’s way of protecting the public from unscrupulous money grabbers.”
Ayshen’s heart skipped a beat. “Mother, what are we doing here? I can’t jeopardize my career with a stint in jail.”
“No one is going to jail, relax; and keep your voice down.”
“Don’t worry sweetie,” one of the women said to Ayshen, “Fatma Nene (Grandmother Fatma) is well protected. If there was trouble coming, she would see it and clear everyone out of here. She has Angels helping her.”
Now I’ve heard it all, Ayshen thought.
Mother smiled politely and gave her full attention to the woman who was more than happy to share the secrets she knew about Fatma Nene. The old lady had lived in the neighbourhood for many years. She had no living relatives. All her relations had passed away. She was providing a public service by doing mystical consultations, a dying art to be sure. She could see the past, present and future when she gazed into her bowl of water. The Police knew about her, but left her alone. Fatma Nene was the real thing – not a charlatan; furthermore, she did not charge for her services. In fact, rumour had it that even the Police consulted with her when they were stuck; she had helped them on more than one occasion. This lady was truly special.
Hmmm, thought Ayshen, feeling slightly better at the prospect of not getting arrested and being carted to the local jail.
Ayshen left her mother with the ladies and wondered around the walled garden. She didn’t know about the fortune telling talents of the old lady everyone called Fatma Nene, but she sure had a green thumb. Ayshen had never seen such beautiful and lush plants in anyone’s garden. If there was any magic to this lady, it was definitely coming through in her gardens. A spectacularly pretty jasmine bush was in full bloom. The scent was intoxicating. Ayshen inhaled the scent into her lungs and felt her spirits rise instantly. This must be what aromatherapy is about she thought.