The Whirling Dervishes

If you, like me, were concerned that the Orient Express was a figment of Agatha Christie's imagination,  stress no longer: 

It's here! In Istanbul! In all its opulence.  The original route saw luxury tourists travel from Paris to Istanbul via some truly magnificent centres of empire like Vienna and Budapest.  Things went smoothly up to the mid-20th century when technology and transport started shifting and in 1977 Istanbul was cut out of the route altogether.

What remains is a glorious edifice built with a nod to European Orientalism during the late 1800s.  As if Istanbul didn't have enough going for it already, Sirkeci Terminal still serves as the centre point for trains heading to both Europe and Asia.  

More topically, one of its antique rooms also served as a gateway into a dizzying and magnificent tradition, that of the whirling dervishes. Wikipedia has it that the men, followers of the Sufi faith, spin round and round as a form of remembrance of God. It's a reverence and a skill that defies words; I cannot begin to understand the ritual and religion behind the practice, but of all the rituals performed in the name of religion, I must admit this was the most mesmerizing. 

We were witness to a tourist version of the 'Sema', a mystical journey of man's spiritual ascent through mind and love to find the 'perfect'.  As the men spin, they defy ego to turn towards the truth and grow in their love for God and the universe.  This process complete, the men return from their spiritual journey as men who have reached maturity and a greater perfection, able to be of service to the whole of creation. 

The evening began when a group of musicians carrying traditional instruments stepped out followed by a solo singer who sang a haunting medley. According to my wikipedia-gained knowledge, this part of the ceremony is called 'Naat and Taksim' where a solo singer offers praise for the Islamic prophet Muhammed.  The musicians improvisation that followed is meant to symbolise man's separation from God. 

For twenty minutes they drummed and strummed along before a group of black robed(symbol of the grave), brown hatted (symbol of the tombstone) men appeared to start the next part of the ceremony, the Devr-i Veled':

They bowed and kneeled together in a  row before completely ignoring the crowd gathered around them in a large square. This bow is said to represent the acknowledgement of the divine breath which has been breathed into all living beings. 

And then one by one by one they unfurled themselves into a sequence of spinning bodies, spinning on left feet only with right palms facing upwards towards Heaven, starting the next part of the ceremony, 'The Four Salams':

 

Of the five dervishes, four wore white gowns (meant to be symbols of death) under their cloaks and stood as symbols of the moon. The fifth dervish, the Sheikh, representative of the sun, wore turquoise blue.  The men in white spun around the man in blue; their heads never moved down and their eyes never looked forward.   There was a trancelike bliss to their state and what appeared to be a true harmony with God:

Each spinning man represents a part of the spiritual journey every believer goes through.  The first man represents the recognition of God; the second one spins in recognition of unity; the third represents the ecstasy a person experiences with total surrender to God; the fourth symbolises peace that comes from divine unity.  

The men spun for minutes on end without stopping or swaying.

As the hour wound down to an end, each man began to slow down, bow and then re-robe himself and walk away. Finally, the leader of the group knelt, mumbled a prayer to himself, folded the red robe (pictured above) over himself, folded the mat underneath and then casually strolled out of the room.  They waited for no applause. 

We walked out in  one of those comfortable but profound silences and we remained that way for half of the walk home.