Assalamulaikum (or Selam Aleyküm in Turkish) is basically a polite ‘hello’; a standard form of greeting in Middle Eastern, and Muslim-majority countries. There are so many ways to say it depending on the context, but the tone Zeynel’s using (and the one I’ve heard and like the most) is a musical one; a spring at the first syllable, and a light succession of skipping steps till the gentle landing at the final syllable.
↓ Transcript
Zeynel stands up and scoffs, a soft blush on his cheeks. “Aw, come on!” He pours himself a cup of tea. “Ayse and I only just got to know each other.”
Zahra snickers. “Well, whatever. I gotta go now. You aren't the only one baba forced to study.”
Zahra sticks out her tongue, and leaves.
Zeynel smiles. He always cherishes their banter, however absurd. It never fails to preserve his love for his sister.
He is about to place the teapot back onto the tray, when he notices on it a small piece of paper, tied with a red string. Curious, he opens it, and reads the following:
"When you're done studying, come to the room at the end of the hallway. My family and I invite you to see for yourslef the magic behind the carpets."
He contemplates this message awhile. He is conflicted; on one hand, he isn’t finished with his studies. On the other, he really wants to learn more about the world he was introduced to earlier today. It offered him a glimpse of a lifetime he never considered before. Who knew a carpet in his past life could contain so many stories and people behind it? He certainly didn’t, and now that his eyes are open, he longs to explore further.
He sighs. He performs a final round of recitation. That is most of the hadith memorised.
He shrugs. “Eh, I can cram tomorrow.”
He puts on his dark blue kaftan and an orange waist sash over his nightshirt, and makes his way downstairs to the appointed room. It is a private dwelling, hidden behind a curtain. From it he could make out the sound of familial camaraderie. Suddenly he is reminded of the foreignness of his body. Is he even supposed to be here? But Ayse sent that message, right? So it should be okay?
He closes his eyes, counts to ten, then breathes. Certainly, it must be ok.
Gently, fearing retribution, he ventures with a greeting. “Selam Aleyküm?”
Zahra snickers. “Well, whatever. I gotta go now. You aren't the only one baba forced to study.”
Zahra sticks out her tongue, and leaves.
Zeynel smiles. He always cherishes their banter, however absurd. It never fails to preserve his love for his sister.
He is about to place the teapot back onto the tray, when he notices on it a small piece of paper, tied with a red string. Curious, he opens it, and reads the following:
"When you're done studying, come to the room at the end of the hallway. My family and I invite you to see for yourslef the magic behind the carpets."
He contemplates this message awhile. He is conflicted; on one hand, he isn’t finished with his studies. On the other, he really wants to learn more about the world he was introduced to earlier today. It offered him a glimpse of a lifetime he never considered before. Who knew a carpet in his past life could contain so many stories and people behind it? He certainly didn’t, and now that his eyes are open, he longs to explore further.
He sighs. He performs a final round of recitation. That is most of the hadith memorised.
He shrugs. “Eh, I can cram tomorrow.”
He puts on his dark blue kaftan and an orange waist sash over his nightshirt, and makes his way downstairs to the appointed room. It is a private dwelling, hidden behind a curtain. From it he could make out the sound of familial camaraderie. Suddenly he is reminded of the foreignness of his body. Is he even supposed to be here? But Ayse sent that message, right? So it should be okay?
He closes his eyes, counts to ten, then breathes. Certainly, it must be ok.
Gently, fearing retribution, he ventures with a greeting. “Selam Aleyküm?”
