The Grand Bazaar Is Longer a Sealed Box

Is there anyone who hasn’t seen or heard of the Grand Bazaar You’ll say that that is ridicilous. Many poets wrote about it, it is even possible to say that everyone has a different perception of the Grand Bazaar. You read about the Bazaar of memoirs, connotations and feelings in Orhan Veli’s poetry: “How about the women at the windows 1 with these blue 1 with these green dresses  Do they stand like this at nights, too  How about this shiıt of a fine fabric Doesn’t it have a story, too It is not just a Bazaar;  The Grand Bazaar  The sealed box. The Grand Bazaar Magazine, whose three issues were printed up until today, opens this box and keeps the beauties that we couldn’t forget, the things and people there alive with all its liveliness. Act:ually everybody should read this: Helping to the owner of the magazine, Attila Özbey and the editor, Rifat Dedeoğlu, is the esthetic debt of the people living in this city, which must be paid immediately.

While d1is place had entered into our lives, the memoirs without it are incomplete. Some of you enter the Bazaar from Beyazıt Square and after a cool joumey which protects you from heat of summer; you arrive at the courtyard of Nuruosmaniye Mosque. When you go from the main street of the Bazaar, for many times you probably stopped by d1e jewelers market accepting the dazzling invitation of the shiny gold. The happiness of a couple choosing their wedding rings can reflect upon you. If you give ear to the silence of the antiques in Bedestan, you can find a lot of romance there, too.

We used to sit in Çınaraltı and stop by the Elif bookstore of our philosopher friend Arslan Kaynardağ. Like a teacher, Kaynardağ used to share his knowledge with us with a book. Later on, we would continue our book trip which usually ended in Bab-ı Ali Stı·eet. Those cool and moldy streets attracted me. We used to go to Edip Cansever’s antique shop and listen to his new poerns on the mezzanine. When we wander in Sezai Karakoç’s the Grand Bazaar poem, our imaginations and impressions have endless connotations: “A cigarette in the Grand Bazaar 1 A violin case, an oil for your hair 1 Tell them, what goes through their women’s eyes 1 is the Grand Bazaar and its times. I expeıienced the atrnosphere of the bond in the Guild during d1e iftar dinner in Ramadan. Individuals mentioned in the pages of the Grand Bazaar Magazine were entering in the dining hall one by one and taking their seats. In the face of one, the brighmess of gold was reflected while the joy of making hookah hoses was reflected on the others; the carpet repairer was mending his carpet as if he was caressing it.

Doğan Hızlan 

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