understand the goal more correctly: they were not trying to make a superhuman of him (as he first thought) by implanting something foreign in him, but rather to bring to the surface the maximum that he had inside himself and to use it as efficiently and exhaustively as possible. It was as if they wanted to re-shape him into a whole person.
In truth, the latter was only true for Bajica and a few other young men from the group. No one else had to tell them that they were predestined for special assignments; they attended many of the lessons without the other boys. However, as a consequence of this separation and of so much time spent together, and probably also because of the stronger feeling of security in community, several of them began to develop a strange, perhaps also redemptive, newly found friendship; indeed, clandestinely so because they did not dare to show it openly. Up until one particular moment.
Even after several years of residence in the caravansary at Edirne, Bajica had never once managed to see his master. The Sultan was occupied with other business in other places. Even when he came to Edirne, however, the ruler would never see them at all, because as he drew near to the caravansary all the boys would be closed up in the training rooms and kept under strict control so that no one outside would ever see them as long as the ruler was staying there. The Sultan, they were told, was regularly informed about the advancement of the future keepers of the empire, because he was quite seriously and constantly interested in their destiny. Proof of this was the sudden appearance in the court of his emissary, Deli Husrev-pasha, one day. His was a face they were allowed to see.
For that guest and host in one, the public display of some of the skills and knowledge of the young students of the empire was immediately organised, according to official protocol and with the wearing of formal clothing, as part of an entire ceremony. They amazed him with their knowledge of Persian and Arabic, of history, and by the number of learned and recited sutras from God’s revelation to Mohammed.
The pasha gave them a speech at the end, as they were assembled in front of him. And then, dismissing the others, he invited the ten of them who were special in every way to come into the inner court of the caravansary, telling them that they deserved to see some of the sultan’s rooms. When they stopped in one of them, seemingly important because of its lack of furniture and decoration, the pasha told them,
“When our master gathers the viziers at Edirne, this is where the imperial Dīvān meets to decide about important matters of state. And up there, near the top of this wall, right next to the ceiling where you see that small screened window, behind its curtain sits the Sultan, listening from above to the work of his viziers.”
“Just as Allah watches all of us from above,” Bajica blurted out, at which most of his comrades looked at him in amazement: some with annoyance, some with approval.
However, the real amazement came when Deli Husrev-pasha dismissed his escorts and the boys’ guardians, and led them to the outer court, where he spoke to the boys in Serbian!
“You have proven to be good students of the empire. When I report that I am satisfied to our ruler, that will mean that you all will soon begin to head off in different directions, based on the detailed information given about each of you by your teachers and supervisors. You will be assigned to various jobs in different parts of the world.”
There was a pause.
Then he approached one of Bajica’s companions, now known as Mustafa, and suddenly hugged him and said to him gently,
“My brother.”
The boy was confused, not comprehending what was happening, afraid that he had perhaps not heard the pasha correctly. The pasha then whispered something for several moments to him, and then he put his arm around Bajica’s shoulder and whispered to him,
“He’s my brother, but he’s also your cousin.”
Then he once again addressed the group,
“It is clear to you that I am also one of your people. I was brought here just like you. From Herzegovina a full twenty years ago. I am of the Sokolović family, and I requested some of you be brought here. I’m now seeing my younger brother for the first time since he was born. Isn’t that wild and wonderful?”
Mustafa looked at him, his eyes and mouth wide open. Bajica observed him in no less amazement. To hear, from these lips, after all this time, their own surname, not quite forgotten but completely suppressed!
The pasha’s whole story, they understood, was aimed at encouraging them to not back out on the chance they were given to get as good an education as possible, to use what they were offered to the greatest possible extent and, when the time came, to utilise all of that to meet their own goals – whatever they might be and whenever they might become known. He showed a measure of intimacy, touched by their presence and overwhelmed with feelings. He tried to be clear, but he was careful not to reveal too much. And each of them understood, without being told, that they should help and support each other as much as possible, using every opportunity offered to them. That they should never forget where they came from, but they should also never shy from what was awaiting them. If they were already destined to have a given past, but a different future, they were to create and retain something from it that would, either in secret or visibly, make them different from all the others. Only in that way would they be able to maintain peace in themselves and with themselves. He emphasised that, if they were not conscious of the duality into which they had been cast, they would never be able to withstand even one of the trials awaiting them.
“Whoever among you manages to rise above his own duality will turn misfortune into an advantage. To not have either of your parents is a real tragedy. To have both is great happiness, but it should be remembered each and every day. Perhaps it seems to you now that you have no parents, but very soon you will see that you have both of them.”
The pasha’s speech helped Bajica to come up with his first, youthful piece of wisdom: if something cannot be avoided, then it must be confronted.
One strange consequence of Deli Husrev-pasha’s was that after his departure, this handful of chosen lads began to openly speak Serbian among themselves, respecting their own unspoken rule that they did so only outside of their training, but no longer trying to hide it. And just imagine – no one objected, and certainly no one tried any longer to forbid it! Why would they? The time was inevitably coming, and they knew this very well, when they would be disbanded and there would be nobody to speak Serbian with.
From its over-use during schooling, I have an aversion to the definition of anything. Yet, continuing with the topic of the melding of literature and maths (another school word that introduced children into the sphere of operations with numbers), I developed an irresistible urge to define money. And this is the conclusion I came to: money is a value expressed in numbers. It may seem that such a conclusion does not require a lot of intelligence. Couldn’t we say the same thing about, for instance, time: years are a value expressed in numbers. Ha! Precisely, just as many other things could be expressed with the exact same definition. But that’s not the point. If it is true that this ‘wisdom’ can be applied to many other concepts and phenomena, that does not mean that the original definition is not correct nor does it annul the existence of things.
What do I want to say? Well, that value cannot be equated with quality. Therefore, there is a different meaning in the claim ‘money is a value expressed in numbers’ and ‘money is quality expressed in numbers’. Now we are getting to the so-called crux of the matter: imagine when certain writers give in and equate the system of value expressed in numbers (the place held by their book on the top-list, let’s say) with the quality of their book. You do not know which is harder to forgive: the vanity
