6,49 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Bedrettin Şimşek
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
A hilarious story about love that will make you think and laugh about fetishism and fetishes.
Bedrettin Simsek surprises his readers in "Sweet Fetish" by transforming the dramatic short story "Hair" by French writer Maupassant into a smart, farcical story that depicts madness with clever, quick-witted characters and wise dialogues in the style of Oscar Wilde.
The story "Sweet Fetish" is followed by a two-act play adapted by Bedrettin Simsek from the same story, this time called "The Hair or The Oddities of Love".
Briefly, the plot of the play is as follows:
"In a hidden panel of an antique piece of furniture, a man discovers a long braid of hair. And the contemplation of this head of hair drives him mad. Do spirits really come back to inhabit the forms they left in this world? Or is it we who give life to these forms?"
"The Hair or The Oddities of Love" is an absurd love comedy about fetishism with an exciting and provocative dramatic structure that keeps the audience's interest at all times, and written in a very logical and clever style, so much so that the more absurd the play is, the more sense it makes.
For readers who crave real literature and meaningful humor.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
Ähnliche
Bedrettin Simsek
Sweet Fetish
Or the Quirks of Love
Table of contents
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
Bedrettin Simsek was a promising writer when his first two books were published by major Turkish publishers in 1996 and 1997. His combination of philosophy, humor, and literature set him apart from other writers, and he stood out for his skeptical attitude toward religion. When his third book, "The Discussions of an Atheist and a Clergyman" was published in 1998 by one of Turkey's leading publishers, he was sued over readers' complaints and both he and the publisher were sentenced to prison terms for insulting religious values. This sentence was suspended on the condition that he would not commit the same offense again and was noted in his record. His conviction made Bedrettin a criminal forever. All publishing houses closed their doors to him; he was excluded from the literary world. His later works were always rejected by publishers, some for fear of punishment, others for fear of reader reaction.
Based on the dramatic short story " Hair" by French writer Maupassant.
Translated by Bedrettin Simsek
1
It's time to accept a fact: as our civilization progresses, it's unfortunately getting harder and harder to call people crazy! So the history of psychology is the history of injustice to the insane.
It was in the light of this fact that N..., one of our talented psychiatrists, gave the following golden advice, which every psychologist should write down in his notebook, to his lawyer friend who came to visit him in his office because of his brother.
"Look," said this very famous doctor to his lawyer friend, "in the old days, when relatives of patients came to us, they found a judge, a prosecutor, rather than a doctor. That is why poor crazy people were treated so unfairly for so long. They were even considered insane. But now everything has changed. Today it is no longer possible to convince the mad that they are mad; you have to be smarter than them. And unfortunately, science has not yet discovered that much intelligence in humans. You say that you are worried about your brother's condition. Let me tell you, if he's okay with his condition, what can we do? Can you convince him that he's crazy? I think it's very difficult. Let's say he believes it. What if he's happy with it? Remember, psychology exists to solve people's problems. There will be a solution to your problem. All you have to do is go to a health center."
The poor lawyer wasn't in trouble for nothing. His brother had been acting strangely for some time. Tugrul - that was his brother's name - was a thirty-something man with a big imagination, who had an unhappy engagement and worked in the antique business. He was deeply attached to his antiques and felt happiest when he was surrounded by them..
One day a customer brought in a walnut cabinet that was at least two hundred years old. The antique dealer immediately fell in love with the cabinet. He had it in front of him all the time, and there wasn't a moment when he didn't dust and wipe it. It was a masterpiece of carpentry. It had smooth drawers, hidden compartments that opened with a lock under thin wood carvings that made it possible to hide letters. As if the carpenter had made it for an unhappy woman who wanted to hide her forbidden love from her jealous husband.
The antiquarian enjoyed this object of love for days, trying to decipher its hidden language, to learn its secrets. Finally, he came upon the mysterious thing hidden in the inner wall of the wardrobe. A piece of a woman's hair sewn into a piece of bright red velvet. There was no clue who it belonged to. But it captured the antiquarian's imagination, and he made up stories about it until he fell in love with the piece of hair. He didn't have the rest, but that wasn't a problem for him. He put one of the most beautiful bodies a man could imagine under the wig and began to go out with it. Now he wore the hair on his arm, took it with him wherever he went, talked to it as if it were a real woman in front of him, appeared everywhere with it. He felt no need to hide his strange love. He said to those who looked at him in amazement and mocked him:
"We believe that our love deserves as much respect as anyone else's. So what! Does our love have to be like everyone else's? Does love have to be the way you experience it? So we ask you to accept our love as normal as any other love, that's all. We expect some understanding from people. Let the world accept that there can be different people, different loves”.
The young man's words did not go unanswered. Society decided that useless loves were harmless, which was considered the best for love. The fact that the antiquarian walked around the theaters and concert halls with a wig on his arm, introducing it to everyone as his future wife, and sitting and chatting with it between confused glances, attracted the attention of the newspapers. One newspaper even wrote:
This is one of those common strange loves that we see so often today, and now it is fashionable. For some, these loves are a symbol of being different. They're even proud of it. And these brave lovers act in a way that makes everyone accept them.
Some newspapers went even further, saying that the wig had given the young man a reputation. His presence in public was enough to draw all eyes to him. People looked at it as if it were a work of art. After all, isn't falling in love with a wig a more effective way to attract attention than falling in love with a woman? Many even discovered a surprising, intellectual, philosophical side to it. Moreover, this difference invited people to think about love, and even brought a new criticism to the present day. The antiquarian and the wig were declared the happy couple of the year, and their love the ideal love. No one had ever seen them quarrel until that day.
The dignitaries of our art world competed with each other to see this scene from close up and to say a few words about it - because it was one of the most commented on events of the present. It even became a trend to throw organizations just to invite them. They were usually surrounded by a curious crowd when they were in the theater, and the audience found it a thousand times more interesting to watch them than to watch the play.
Then the antiquarian would boast:
"Compared to my love, the play on the stage was pale again. Well! I can't say that I don't deserve applause for it."
One day, during an intermission at a concert - the conversation that day had extended the intermission long enough for the second part to start late - a curious lady did not hesitate to say that she envied that love in front of adoring fans. A curious crowd had formed a circle around the couple. It was Babelesque. There were a few cynics in the crowd. But it was a woman's question that caught their attention:
"How do you do it, I wonder? How do you kiss her?"
"Those are private matters," the antiquarian said very seriously, pointing to her hair:
"And she's very pure, very shy. She's also my future wife. So I ask you not to mention anything in front of her that might make her blush. But since you asked, I'll tell you. No woman has ever given a man so much pleasure. The excitement I feel when I am with her is equal to the pleasure of actually doing it”.
The lady who asked the question sighed: "If she can blush without a face, she must give you a hard time in bed.
The antiquarian:
"She is a soul. All we can see is her hair... I grab her and pull her to my side. Her soul enjoys it when I stroke her hair".
Another lady said enviously:
"I would be satisfied with that. But still, this love seems so impossible..."
The antiquarian boasted:
"Those who think so are those who do not believe in the miracle of love."
An old man with no teeth in the crowd expressed his thoughts: "Imagine how many men who have suffered at the hands of their wives imagine her as a wig in their minds. I think she'd make an ideal wife. She can go anywhere naked. You don't have to wait hours for her to get dressed."
One stylish woman said, "Honestly, I wouldn't want a man to just fall in love with my hair. I'd like him to caress the rest of me, even love all of me."
"I think bald men will understand this love very well," said someone who carefully examined the wig, not a single strand of hair on his head. "For they are the only ones who will listen to a lecture on wigs."
The antiquarian addressed the crowd:
"She has all the qualities I look for in a woman. Hot, emotional, thoughtful. In short, everything I like to see in a woman. I mean, she never lets her man down. She never says no to anything. She knows how to take any shape. She has none of the qualities of my ex-fiancée that made me hate women."
"Oh, you had a fiancée?"
Young man:
"In fact, if I were to praise my current lover, I would be putting down my ex-fiancée. Because she was a jealous, belligerent, talkative, grumpy woman. She killed my love by justifying herself. But now I have someone completely different. Someone who is kind, understanding, who loves to listen more than to talk... All women can come and learn womanhood from her. And she has no beauty to scare people away".
Someone who looks stupid asked naively:
"Would she talk to us if we asked her?"
The antiquarian looked at him with contempt. Suddenly someone shouted, "What do you mean, talk? Look, she doesn't seem to say a word. But I wouldn't be surprised if she starts talking on her wedding night."
A cynic said, "I wonder what woman could spend her wedding night in silence?" and made everyone laugh.
Another examined the wig and noted his suspicion by saying, "Perhaps it belongs to a woman who has suffered severe hair loss.
A man in the crowd, who introduced himself as a funeral director and said he visited concert halls hoping to find a good piece to play at funerals, said, "But she's dead!"
The antiquarian, who had an answer for everything, said, "What if she's dead? When your beloved dies, does your love for her end? And her love? Can we say that's over too? I think if our love for her continues, she continues to live for us.
Someone in the crowd introduced himself as a doctor and stuck his head out of the crowd. Pointing to the wig, he asked, "Why this, why not a woman?"
The antiquarian replied,
"Because I'm a jealous man, Doctor. I'm jealous enough to cause the death of the woman I love."
The doctor said, "It is obvious that you will not let anyone touch the wig. Is that the only reason you love her?"
"Of course not. I can only love a dead woman. Because when a woman is dead, there's no reason to be jealous of her."
Doctor:
"Strange! You talk as if if you loved a woman, she would surely cheat on you. Of course, a wig won't betray you, and you don't have to kill her. I swear I've never seen such a good match. One of the lovers is very jealous and the other is very shy, I think they are the ideal duo".
"I don't think men who can't stand their wives cheating on them should ever get married," said a floosy-looking lady, then added, as if reflecting the feelings of the crowd.
"How do you expect others to treat you?"
The antiquarian:
"I ask everyone to show my future wife the respect she deserves."
The crowd immediately shouted, "But how?"
"I expect them to see her as I see her, to say good morning in the morning and good evening in the evening, to greet her when they see her, and to ask her how she's doing.
The toothless old man with the arrogant attitude threw himself forward without considering his age.
"Just like that?" he shouted as he leaned over and greeted the wig. "Good morning, Miss Wig. Or good evening, Miss Hair. How is my lady today?"
A storm of laughter broke out in the hall at this charade. But the young man was quite serious.
"If you were a little more cordial," he frowned.
The old monkey leaned all the way to the floor again, making everyone laugh.
"Well. Good day, my lady. I see that you are very happy today. I'm glad to see you in such good health. Oh dear, don't let your hair fall out. Or there will be nothing left of you."
Rude waves of laughter came again from the crowd.
"I prefer her to many women who walk around with beautiful bodies but are soulless," the antiquarian said proudly. "And my lover has no flaws that you would want to hide in darkness like yours. She is not dishonored when she speaks like other women. To see her, you must look at her as I do."
A middle-aged man took off his hat at these words:
"By God, she is certainly superior to my wife."
A flatterer, thinking that all these jibes were annoying the antiquarian, wanted to defend him. Looking at the wig with appreciative eyes, he asked everyone, "Isn't the dream what we love, even in true love? In the end, we see that this dream does not fit into reality, and we suffer. But now there is no danger that he will suffer like that. Because the woman he loves is exactly as he wants her to be.
Another disputed these remarks.
"When we fall in love, we can't just hope to be happy. Sometimes we want to be miserable," he said. "All the infidelity, the sadness, the deception that you fear so much cannot be thought of apart from the happiness that love gives us."
The flatterer:
"You are right. It is impossible to think of love without unhappiness. As for happiness, I don't think there will be any more happiness in a normal love than in this strange love. So all we can do to get him out of his abnormal love and into normal love is to teach him not to be afraid of suffering. And in exchange for what? In exchange for finding less of the happiness he's experiencing now, in a normal way.
"Isn't that the right way?"
"Yes, but not everyone can afford to go through that ordeal. That's why most people would rather look normal than be normal."
Flatterer:
"So you have to suffer to be normal, and you have to be crazy not to suffer, right? I really admire your logic. I understand that I can't change your mind. In that case, there's only one thing left to do. Defend Miss Wig even more!"
The debate seemed to be escalating. Fortunately, the bell announced that the second part of the concert had begun. As everyone went back to their seats, an elderly man in a red bow tie, who looked like a waiter, approached the antiquarian with his wife, who sparkled like a peacock in her satin dress and was drowning in jewelry. He first bowed to him and then introduced himself as a businessman who was a protector of art and artists. He mentioned that he had a mansion where he regularly entertained painters, poets, and musicians, and invited him and his future wife to an event to be held at his house the following evening. His very kind wife would have been honored to receive Miss Hair. With this love, the antiquarian showed the whole world what ideal love is. It was also a silent protest against the fact that true love can no longer be found today.
2
The next day, the antiquarian dressed up more elegantly than ever. And he styled his cute wig differently than usual that day. As a matter of fact, this did not escape the attention of the guests at the meeting. All of them, eminent members of our intellectual community, considered it a novelty in modern love. The poets among the guests resented the fact that they could not attract as much attention as she did. Everyone looked at her and wanted to talk to her. Everyone said they would be glad to see her in their own homes at the next invitation. The artists could not find a nice word to describe this painting. The antiquarian, happy and spoiled by all this attention, thought that his love was dazzling and beat himself up to talk to everyone.
While drinking, a painter said to his colleague:
"I don't know if this is a disease. But I must say this. What we love in a woman is nothing more than a reflection of what's in our hearts, my dear...".
When one of the invitees described this landscape as an idyll that saves our age from being annoying, another admitted that such a thing would not be considered madness, that love itself is already madness.
"It used to be easy to be considered crazy. Now that order is almost inaccessible," he added.
Another explained that everyone can have a fetish, but no one can have the courage to display such an object of passion until that moment, so this love should be celebrated. Although he felt very proud at the time, the antiquarian, tired of these compliments, said he wasn't offended that his fiancée was called a fetish because nothing could diminish the pleasure he was getting.
When some doctors heard that the antiquarian would attend this invitation, they came, even though it was not customary for them to attend such invitations. They said that many people had fetishes and that for the first time one of them was making history by going outside the walls of a bedroom.
Happy to receive such a crowd in his mansion, the businessman did not let his guest and his future wife from his side, he carried them with tens of thousands of protocol. When it became less a question of whether this love was reasonable or not - because other fetish enthusiasts who were present at the time suddenly became the antiquarian's greatest defenders - and more a question of whether it was moral or not, a storm of words broke out in the hall.
"I don't know what the moralists will say, but it's harmless madness, that's all," said a doctor who considered himself more competent than anyone else to comment on the matter.
The moral side among the guests was led by an old lady who was overly decorated, putting her ugliness in a beautiful frame.
"We are all moralists here, Doctor," she shouted in a harsh voice.
The doctor, who represented the other side of the debate, replied, "Then my advice to you is, don't be stupid and tell him about morality. Or you'll drive him crazy."
As the battle raged over whether immorality should be considered an illness, if not a disease, the doctor felt compelled on that historic day to stand on a chair and address the entire crowd. He cleared his throat and said, "Look, I'm a doctor, not a preacher. If a person is immoral, if he is not hurting anybody, that is his own problem. If he's harmful, it's our problem. So it's no coincidence that people always go crazy after listening to moral preachers. What a pity! There is nothing we can do to save those who have lost their minds because they have been subjected to the indoctrination of ascetics. Even science is desperate.
Fanning the flames of the debate was a professor, highly respected by all, who admitted that he had a fetish and could not bear to see pantyhose in front of the guests and his very religious wife. And he found women's feet a thousand times more attractive than the rest of their bodies. In fact, he had married his wife only because she had beautiful feet, and he always made her wear the most stylish shoes. It was enough for his wife to take off her slippers to undress. That's when the host suggested throwing a wild party and that everyone bring their most secret fetish, but first the crowd was invited to explain without hesitation what their fetish was, if they had one.
And the seasoned women, as if they knew what the men were hiding from them, said, "Come on, gentlemen," to encourage them. "Empty your pockets."
A very fat and almost round man immediately stepped forward as if to carry out an order; he pulled out at least ten fancy panties of different sizes and patterns from his pockets.
Suddenly, the women surrounded the fat man as if they were buying panties in a store.
After one woman put on her glasses and examined them all, she burst out laughing.
"These look like they've been worn. But how do you fit into these little things, given your size?"
Everyone expected the fat guy to be embarrassed, but it was the opposite; the cheeky guy put the most glamorous red panties on his head like a hat. Then, kissing and caressing the objects of love, he said, "Oh! These are more precious to me than jewels. They are more precious to me than women. Oh! I'd give my life for these puppies."
The moral woman said sharply, "Well, where do you get them? Do you buy them yourself?"
The fat man said, "I steal them from my wife."
The host said, "Well, anybody else? That can't be all, can it?" and continued to provoke his guests.
This time a skinny bald man revealed his secret, which he had been hiding from everyone all his life, and threw it up in the air like a madman. Suddenly, lace garters flew over their heads. But the skinny man preferred to see those coquettish garters on hairy legs.
These heroic men who bravely revealed the truth made it clear that they were not afraid to be the object of women's ridicule. Of course, they got their courage from the antiquarian. So the young man deserved even more respect.
The doctor, whose garter had fallen on his head, explained the situation:
"Unfortunately, psychology has not yet discovered what is normal. Because man is a creature who considers himself very normal even in the most abnormal situations”.
Meanwhile, a rich widow took the antiquarian by the arm, separated him from the crowd, and dragged him out into the garden, where she could not hide her great admiration for him.
Pointing to the wig, she said, "Why can't men who love a part of us feel all their passion for us? Is it because they lack courage?" She continued, "I'm curious. I wonder if you loved your ex-fiancée like that."
"No," said the antiquarian. "Because she said I would have to be crazy to love something like that."
The noblewoman couldn't hold back her tears. She pointed to the wig again:
"I see," she said. "You don't just see it as a wig. But your fiancée does. So she hasn't learned to see the world through the eyes of the man she loves. Then I don't believe in her love."
"Why?" asked the antiquarian.
"Two people who love each other, who are in love with each other. If one of them goes mad, the other still retains his mind. So they are not really in love, nor is the love between them called true love”.
When they soon returned to the hall arm in arm, they found themselves in the midst of a fierce argument. The guests were divided into opposing opinions. Some called the antiquarian's passion a disease, while the flatterers were strongly opposed to it.
The virtuous group was led by old women, whom the other side called stubborn goats. Scientists, artists, hosts, doctors and, of course, foot-loving professors represented the opposite side.
These virago women, not accepting their opponents, shouted at once to make them accept their superiority. One of them asked, perhaps for the thousandth time, "So you see it as love, is that it?"
Speaking for the artists, the poet replied, "This is a love that all philosophers should argue about!"
The women, who had the opposite idea in this war, were showered with "jokes. The poet, who used the most venomous language among artists, said:
"Women are terrible creatures. There is no monstrosity a woman can't do to look young".
A woman who was a painter said, "And a man does not come to heel until he is old and his teeth fall out. Didn't you know that?" she laughed.
"You must still be a virgin, for you seek only true love and have vowed to give yourself only to the perfect lover," said a writer to the women who accused the antiquarian. "Be careful, ladies! After this age, you can't stay a virgin, even if you want to. Because you're old enough to die of too much stubbornness."
The older women were not far behind the younger men in this joke competition.
One woman said, "Men dare to be husbands. There can be many heroes among them who dare to be husbands. But who can replace all the lovers he makes a woman leave behind?"
Another woman said, "Don't get me started on husbands! The more a husband trusts his wife, the louder he snores. And the wife spends the night sleepless like me. I think it should be the other way around."
Then a woman came out and suggested that all the men there take a love test. But first they all had to be quiet. But it didn't seem so easy to shut the men up.
Another woman:
"If a man doesn't listen to the woman he loves to the end, does that count as loving her? In fact, I think that the more talkative a woman is, the more a man loves her with great love. Well, the love that can stand the talkativeness of a woman like me is probably as strong as a castle.
Meanwhile, the crowd objected when they saw the subject move away from the wig. Then a nice lady asked the person next to her, "Would you lend your wig to your lover to love and caress, darling?"
The other lady said:
"For such a thing to happen, I would have to make him very desperate. But, as you know, I've shown the ability to make my lovers run after me forever, and not to turn any of them halfway. I didn't give anyone hope. But I didn't kill anyone out of desperation."
Finally, seeing that the struggle was growing, the doctor said, "Is there even such a thing as perfect love?" he stood on the chair again and reminded the guests of Adam and Eve. "Imagine, even the first love faced infidelity. So there's no perfect example of love that we can present. Therefore, you should not expect anything from the following ones. You see, the history of love is as old as the history of betrayal. But the history of betrayal is older than the history of love. It goes back to Eve's deception of Adam."
That night, the antiquarian returned home tired. He found his lawyer brother in the living room, deep in thought. His sleepless eyes looked very worried. The doctor's visit that day had been terrible.
3
In the morning, the antique dealer had an unexpected guest: his former fiancée. This thirty-year-old woman, who could not accept the breakup, believed it was the worst thing that had ever happened to her and still hoped for something for herself. She tried so hard to convince the man she loved to seek treatment. She kept telling him that falling in love with a pile of hair was a disease. But more than that, she resented the fact that she was being dumped for that clump of hair.
"If you like wigs so much, why don't you look at mine?" she told the young man, throwing her own hair into his lap several times. She even went to the hairdresser every day, and every day she appeared before the man she loved with a different hairstyle. But the antiquarian had already made up his mind. He preferred women without bodies to those with bodies.
As a last resort, the young woman went to the doctors, waiting for them to say that loving objects was something temporary. Almost all the doctors said:
"Unfortunately, such loves are much stronger than what we normally accept, so they last longer, even a lifetime!"
The young woman despaired, "Then can I consider myself betrayed in this situation?" she shouted angrily.
She then rebelled against the doctors who saw this situation as just another state of love. It was the lawyer, the brother of the man he loved, who comforted her in these troubled times.
"Our laws side with the criminals just so that justice is done, as if our doctors do anything different when they try to make the insane look sane?" he lamented. "But, thank God, there are doctors who accept crazy people as patients and consider treating them," he added, making it clear that he was looking for ways to lock his antiquarian brother up in a mental hospital.
The lawyer's intentions were not unknown. But he was wrong. For he hadn't found a single one of those doctors until that day, and he had heard the same thing from all of them.
In fact, after listening to him for a long time and without giving him a chance to finish his speech, the first doctor he went to said:
"Look, what we do when we're alone in a room is not crazy. As long as we close the doors. As long as we close the windows, the curtains."
But when the lawyer told him everything, the doctor said:
"Then let me tell you this: no one becomes sane by being locked up in an asylum. And he's not going to believe that he's crazy. He would have to be really crazy to believe that, and psychology has never discovered so much madness in anybody.
The second doctor he went to met him very badly. Because when the desperate lawyer said, "Save my brother from this passion, let him be sick," the doctor said, "Do you think his recovery means that he is sane? You're letting him talk nonsense. If you say he should be normal, you will drive him completely mad".
The third doctor was far from angry, but he scoffed at him.
"I don't think he's crazy," he said, trying not to laugh. "Think about it, aren't there women who crave love and become so lifeless that they end up turning into a wig? Don't they pour all their money into their hairdressers? Don't men begin to love women by stroking their hair?"
And then he made this assumption:
"Suppose you put him in a hospital. If he loses his mind in a mental hospital, you'll be responsible".
Another one listened to him carefully and said: "The public sees no difference between love and madness. In fact, in modern psychology, a little madness is healing. So if he's not as crazy as you want him to be, don't get upset.
Feeling hopeful at these words, the lawyer said: "So can my brother be cured? Can the wig be taken off?"
"That would require a miracle outside of medicine."
"Is there no hope?"
"Unfortunately!"
"What does that mean?"
"It means that you can cure the most serious diseases of the body, but you can't cure the soul."
"So you have nothing to say to comfort us, doctor?"
"The human mind changes. No abnormality is permanent. Neither is normality. If you change the way you look at it while it's changing, everything looks different and you start thinking it's a cure."
The lawyer was delighted.
"So even if he doesn't get better, there's hope?"
"Sure."
"Well, how?"
"We can't cure him, but we can fix you."
"I don't understand. I'm normal, Doctor. What makes you think I need to be healed?"
"It is clear that your brother's sickness is affecting you. You're so sad that he loves a wig."
"Should I feel good?"
"Of course."
"So I'm sad for nothing?"
"Absolutely. You can't help being sad. It's the fault of being normal. But it can be treated. To do this, you must attend our hypnosis sessions. At the end of our treatment, you will be very happy to see that your brother is not in love with something else, a mean woman more soulless than this wig. So you'll get better."
The lawyer nearly threw himself out of the doctor's office.
When he asked if he could cure his brother, the fourth doctor replied:
"Cure him? Why? Living in peace with such a disease is sometimes the only solution and has proven to be more effective than any kind of medicine. "
"What do you mean, doctor?"
"I had a married patient. It was a case of split personality. Because sometimes she thought she was the maid and not the wife. Yes, when she couldn't control her husband, she was under his command. So she lived as two people without realizing it: the lady of the house and the maid... Fortunately, the couple had no children. When the wife changed her personality, that is, when she became a maid, her husband met a completely different woman. He eventually fell in love with her and made her his lover. Because at that time she was calling him from a fantasy world. And there was no danger for this love. That is, the lady of the house couldn't know that her husband was having an affair with the maid. He was more than happy about it. Because the colder his wife was, the hotter the maid was. When the poor woman became the lady of the house again, she wouldn't remember anything. So she couldn't know that she had been cheated on. Isn't it rare for a married man to have a forbidden relationship without fear of scandal, and hide it from his wife? In the end, three people lived happily ever after in the same house, just like in fairy tales. Although at first he made some idle efforts to cure his crazy wife. But later he decided that "it would be a real madness to cure her".
The fifth doctor was the most interested. He even found wisdom in the antiquarian's madness.
"Isn't that why he's happy to be mad?" he asked, almost giving him a lesson. "Look at the state of the world. Don't you have to be crazy to be happy in this world? I think he should be considered smart just because he thinks he's happy. If you try to cure him, you will punish him. I can even say that the world is in such a state that if you drive someone crazy, you are actually doing them a favor. Psychology has to take all this into account. It doesn't focus all its attention on the madman, but on his family. So that they will leave the poor madman alone, and their health will not be endangered in vain. In fact, a crazy person won't accept treatment from us. So he is not that crazy. He doesn't want to admit that he's crazy. He doesn't want to be called that. That is how sane he is".
Finally, the frustrated lawyer said, "How? Should we all just let him walk around with a wig on his arm?"
Then the doctor changed his tune and said, "There are so many people who are crazy about love. They all deserve respect. We're not going to put any of them in an institution."
Lawyer:
"Well, let me tell you this. I'll use my position, my reputation, and get the powers that be to put him in a mental institution."
"All right, but that's against our professional ethics."
"But it is conceivable."
The doctor:
"Then don't say I didn't warn you. It'll be worse. If you take away the wig, you get a bad romance."
The lawyer:
"Why is that?"
"Because if you destroy the wig, you destroy the possibility of healing."
The lawyer seemed to go crazy. The doctor continued sweetly:
"Why don't you have a little tolerance for your brother? Why must you immerse him in this nightmare world of true love? Let him do whatever he wants in his dream world. I've seen worse love accepted in my professional life. That's what we call the miracle of love.
The lawyer said, "These are your crazy ideas, doctor. According to you, we must accept everything that is good just because there is something worse. In that case, there will be no misfortune that a person will not accept".
The doctor looked at the lawyer coldly.
"Can you give up your passion to change him?" he asked.
"Never!"
"You see? You want the madman to keep up with you. Isn't it stupid to expect that from someone who is not sane? I've had a lot of doctor friends who went crazy trying to cure crazy patients. They are now in mental hospitals and are regularly visited by the patients they once tried to treat".
The lawyer was on the verge of losing his mind. Fearing that he would do something crazy, the doctor tried to calm him down.
"We prevail over the strongest side of man and are defeated by his weakest side, my friend," he said.
But the lawyer had already made up his mind. He stood up.
"I'm sorry, I can't listen to you anymore, Doctor. I'm going to find my powerful friends. I want him to spend the night in a mental institution."
And the lawyer was gone. Although he visited all the doctors in town, he couldn't find a single one who would put his antiquarian brother in a mental hospital. His nerves were shattered, and he ended up in a mental hospital himself. During his treatment, he was told that it was normal for his brother to fall in love with a piece of wig.
They kept saying the following words:
"Please don't obsess. Don't interfere in other people's private lives. Such love is not harmful to anyone. There is no reason to be sad or crazy in such love".
One day a nurse gave him such advice:
"Oh dear, come on! Be happy that he loves what he loves and nothing else. What if he loved a virago? What if he brought you a gold-digger for a wife? Imagine, instead of a wig, who would you call your sister-in-law? I think the best sister-in-law is the one who does not exist".
A nurse who was passing by chimed in.
"Oh, my dear, if no one is harmed, let them do as they please. Why do you want to separate them? Why do you come between them? The more normal you accept this situation, the more peaceful you will be. Or if you feel sorry that your brother has lost his mind, you will definitely lose your mind as well".
Another day the same nurse whispered in his ear as if to tell him a secret:
"Many women are saved from going mad when their husbands go to prison. On the other hand, how can you cure a crazy husband without saving him from his wife? It's better for him. I know many women who killed their husbands just because they were treated like a wig. See that woman sitting there? If she were just a pile of hair, her husband would be alive right now."
The lawyer recovered quickly. Unfortunately, things got worse after he was hospitalized. When his mother heard that her son had gone mad, she fainted from extreme grief. His father hurt his back trying to pick her up. So both his mother and father were admitted to the same hospital for treatment.
In short, it was what the doctor said. He once saw the future like a seer.
"When someone loses his mind, it's normal for his family to become depressed," he said. "In fact, the madman is healthy. It is the members of his family who are in poor health. There are so many families who end up in the asylum trying to get their crazy relatives admitted! Because a madman is happy, cheerful, comfortable, keeping up with the world. His health may deteriorate as his parents try to fix him. After all, no one wants to be unhappy, right? Especially, you have to be completely crazy to want to be unhappy. Crazy people are very sane in this respect. It's the sane people who are really crazy."
The antiquarian's ex-fiancée came to visit the man she still secretly loved to tell him about all these misfortunes and to see with her own eyes if this strange love still existed, but she found the same ruthless man in front of her. The young man did not feel the slightest pity for his family, who did not accept the hair into their home and thus despised his only love. And just for revenge, he announced to everyone that he would soon be married to his cute wig, put it on his arm and walked around the whole city.
The young woman, her hopes shattered by these words, pointed to the wig and said reluctantly, "I wonder what he has that I don't have?"
The antiquarian disdained to answer this reproach. "You never made me dream. And you destroyed the ones I did have. You boast of being real. That's right, you're annoyingly real," he said in an icy voice.
The young woman:
"Oh! Those are the words of a man who is deluding himself."
The antiquarian:
"I said what I said. Goodbye."
"This nonsense can't last long," the woman called after him.
The other said, "One must seek happiness in its perfection, beautiful. Even if it doesn't last long, my love will be a precedent for those who follow. For even if my beloved is incomplete, my love is complete".
The young woman was in tears.
"So I have no hope?"
The antiquarian blew kisses on his wig from afar and said, "I have found true love. I belong to another now. Goodbye."
The wig lay on the couch, tired and limp from all the teasing. The young woman lost her mind over these words and became so angry that she suddenly threw herself at the wig and began to tear at it with her fingernails. At the same time, she screamed as loud as she could. There was little that could be done to save Miss Hair. The ex-fiancée was rushed to the hospital that same day.
So the antiquarian walked around happy and cheerful like a pantry mouse who had found a wife with the pile of hair on his arm - even though it had been plucked a little during the attack - and his whole family, mother, father, brother, ex-fiancée, were treated in the hospital.
4
A few weeks passed. One day, on his way home from the hospital, the lawyer ran into an acquaintance. It was the father of the antiquarian's ex-fiancée. This sixty-year-old man, who looked like he'd been cuckolded, worked for a newspaper; he was still as energetic as a hawk. He'd been on bad terms with his daughter for a long time. Those who knew him intimately said that after many unhappy years, this man who had divorced his grouchy wife thought his marriage was hell.
"If only I had loved a lifeless wig instead of a woman who was as alive as a tiger, I'd be happier now," he would often say, showing everyone the scratch marks on his face.
In fact, he never forgave his daughter for blaming him for every fight he had with his wife and taking her mother's side. He accused his daughter of being indifferent to his problems or not understanding him. He attributed this to the fact that she, too, was similar in character to her grumpy mother. The same resentment he felt for his wife he also felt for his own daughter. In this case, he sided with the antiquarian, passionately declaring that men who loved only part of a woman were averting a danger so that they could get away with it.
When it came to the antiquarian's strange love, the old journalist, who had suffered much at the hands of his wife, said:
"It's a pity when a person has useful views on love, but suffers because of it! And what's wrong with loving a wig? At least when he closes his eyes he doesn't find himself in a nightmare and lives his love as he imagines it".
Meanwhile, the lawyer, who wanted to change the subject because the doctors had advised him not to think about the same things, told the older journalist about his days in the hospital. He told him that sometimes you have to look at life from different angles. He'd learned that himself. That's why he was never bored in the asylum. Finally, the lawyer described the asylum as the best place in the world to spend a lifetime, because he said that the patients he shared a room with constantly saw ghosts, which amused everyone.
The playful journalist laughed:
"When someone sees ghosts, I think it's natural for them to freak out."
"Oh, why?"
"Modern science has so convinced people that there are no ghosts that those who see ghosts go crazy, whether they want to or not."
It was a conversation between two people who had matured from what they had gone through. For this, one had to go to the asylum and the other had to get married. It was obvious that the lawyer had entered the asylum sad and had left it happy. He even considered himself lucky to have been in the asylum for a while. Because he knew that nowadays doctors don't call anyone crazy, except the ones they drive crazy.
He sighed, "Even if you are crazy today, there is no guarantee that doctors will diagnose your madness. So it's not enough to lose your mind to be considered crazy."
After that, the journalist began to whine in a way typical of old people. He declared that in modern times there is no morality, no honor, and there is more madness on our streets than in an asylum.
"I am sure that no one will notice that the mad are mad, as long as they are moral, honest and quite religious," said the lawyer.
After these words, the old journalist opened his pocket and took out a letter.
"How innocent this madness is compared to the madness that surrounds the world," he said.
The letter belonged to the antiquarian and was addressed to the wig in the days when they first met.
The lawyer was surprised.
"But how did you get this letter?" he asked.
"Test yourself how normal you are by reading this letter," said the old journalist. "I did, and I found myself very normal."
The old man said that when his daughter caught her fiancé, the antiquarian, red-handed with the wig, she somehow stole this letter from him. In his writings, the young man clearly expressed his passion for the wig. When he began to wear the wig on his arm and carry it around shamelessly, the young woman thought it appropriate to hide the letter. But then, for whatever reason, she couldn't bear to be betrayed in this way, and vowed to embarrass her, and gave the letter to her father to expose this invisible betrayal in his newspaper. The journalist never intended to publish the letter because he respected all forms of love. This, in turn, increased his daughter's anger toward him. Since then, he has kept this relic in case he needs it in a moment of romance. For there had never been a woman in his life who had aroused such desires. His wife had killed all the love in him. He wondered if a woman had to be invisible to arouse such passions. He also personally needed this document to defend the antiquarian's love, which at first seemed strange. And he never thought of showing it to the lawyer, who he thought might be biased. Because it was certain that reading these lines, which belonged to his brother, would make him even sicker. But now that he's fully recovered, he could have given this letter to him with peace of mind.
When the lawyer came home and read the letter, he couldn't hide his surprise, but that didn't mean that he thought this love was abnormal.
It was obvious that the letter was written by the antiquarian in the early days of their love and was addressed to Lady Hair. Obviously, for some reason, perhaps after an argument between them, the wig was angry with the antiquarian, or the antiquarian was angry with her. But then love prevailed, and the first to try to make up was the antiquarian, and the wig played hard to get. How could the antiquarian have imagined these events, which resembled a comedy, in his mind? Maybe his sweet fetish wasn't as flirtatious as it used to be. Or maybe he could no longer complete the half-woman he was imagining, and the dream that had always been complete and perfect was now missing. In fact, in that brief moment of separation, perhaps because he couldn't put all the pieces together, the antiquarian wrote in his drunken letter to his beloved wig:
"Oh, darling, I'm waiting for you, come... Come, come and kiss me... Oh, what a strange passion this is! I know, darling, you'll think I'm crazy. But no, my love, I'm not mad... Oh, darling, I'll grab your hair and pull you close to me! Here! I've been staring into the darkness for hours, waiting for you. Come, let me feel your touch. Kiss me so that my soul can find its way to your lips. All the dead return. You too will return. Come out of your grave and come to me. Oh, that's what? You're here? Here, I see you. I'm looking at you. At last. Who could bear to wait? Wouldn't she come to me even if she were seven stories underground? Come closer, darling. Come into my arms. Don't stop. But first, bend down and I'll put your hair on your head. Because you're not beautiful when you're bald, my love. Whoever plucked your hair, plucked it badly. Come closer, bend your head. Just like that. Oh, now you're beautiful, my love! Happy me, my longing is over! I'll never leave you by my side. You'll always be with me. I'll take you everywhere. I'll show you, everyone. My brother will be here soon. He is a good lawyer. I'll need his opinion right away. I hope he won't make the wrong decision about you. But can I go one minute without making love to you first? Come here, honey. The woman with the beautiful breasts! What beautiful thighs you have. Come on, get undressed. Don't be shy. Are you shy of your husband, honey? Don't do that. What's there to be ashamed of? Look, I undressed too, am I ashamed? Let me undress you, darling. Look, there's a mole. And two on your hip. Let me untie your ribbon. There you go. Be careful. Don't let the hair fall out. I can't bear to see you bald. Oh, you were amazing, darling! I've never seen a woman as beautiful as you. Come on, get dressed and let's go. We'll eat outside. Let me help you get dressed. Oh, like this! Now come into my arms, darling. Come on in and let everyone see my treasure. Oh, what is it, darling? Where have you gone? Where are you, my love? Oh, my silent fiancée! You have disappeared again. What a pity! When a soul disappears, there's nothing left behind. Except the smell of fresh lilies. But that's okay. Even if you're not with me, I'll always pretend to be with you, darling. I'll never get your dream out of my mind. And even if no one can see you, I will see you.
When the lawyer placed this letter in front of his brother's ex-fiancée, who was visiting him that day, the young girl who remembered everything could not hold back tears.
"Oh!" she sobbed. "Wasn't it better to be normal and unhappy like everyone else than to be abnormal and happy?"
Lawyer:
"You're right, beautiful. He can no longer marry you without risking being considered insane for the rest of his life."
That same day, his doctor friend came to see the lawyer. At one point the lawyer asked, "Well, what am I supposed to do now?"
The doctor shrugged, he was relaxed, "Nothing. Just don't seem to object. Just act like you're glad he's crazy, that's all," he said.
The next day the lawyer had another visitor. An old school friend and colleague who was a judge came to him with complaints. The cases he had seen up to that point had increased this jurist's taste for strange things. His soul, fueled by excess, was always hungry for more and wanted to know the most unusual things. And although his beloved friend knew of his curiosity, he never mentioned this strange event that shook our city. How could he not have heard about this event that would go down in history, the event that everyone was talking about? But he was really angry that the lawyer hadn't told him about it. However, he said that if he told him everything in detail, he could forgive him. He had heard that the antiquarian and the wig were engaged. Were they married? If not, had the wedding date been set? Surely he was waiting for an invitation.
"Our only consolation is that they haven't been married yet," the lawyer sighed. And then he began to speak. As he spoke, the judge listened intently. When the lawyer finished his story, the judge immediately said he wanted to see the old closet where the hair came out.
The lawyer did not refuse his old school friend. Putting on his glasses, the curious judge examined the closet where the hair had come out with the meticulousness of a lawman. He opened all the lids, looked everywhere, searched inside and out, and then he found this mysterious thing in one of the secret compartments, stuck in the back, wrapped in a cloth similar to the one to which the wig was sewn. It was a letter that revealed the true identity of the wig, and it said
"This hair reminds me of my dearest, most precious one. She was all I had in life. She was such a sweet, wonderful being. She was the best lover. She taught me what it means to love and to be loved. I never thought I'd be without her. Until death took us apart. At her last moment, I cut this hair from her head and hid it. To enrich her unforgettable memory with this glamorous ornament, I took it from her. Every time I look at it, I cry more. In those moments when I turn to stone with sadness, it will be considered a relic of my love. If I touch this hair, my beloved will come back to life in my dreams. Then I will think that my soul, wrapped in mourning tulle, is being stripped from the garment of grief, and my tears of joy are finding a way to flow into her heart, now beating in heaven. That's what will keep our love alive after her death. Oh! I remember our meetings. I remember our whispering, our making out, our kissing. Every time my heart beats, it repeats the promise of her love for me. My promises are no longer a secret. My poor darling. We always met in the haystack. That is where she paid the most attention to me. And there were many nights when we lit the haystack with our fire. On the last day, she greeted me again on all fours. She felt she was dying. Even then she wanted to make love and, as usual, she immediately took the position she knew I liked. But I was so sad that I did not move at all. However, she gathered her last strength and let me ride her. She had never let anyone ride her before. And I didn't let her mate with others in return. I was jealous of her. She was mine and should have stayed mine. Once she felt that, she wouldn't let anyone ride her. So we had a love that both men and women envied. Oh! She got so excited when I got on her back and spurted on her that she wouldn't stop even when she was tired. Love makes you neigh. I have heard that before. But I've never heard it in women. In fact, when her love became too much, she kicked and tried to relax. My poor darling! Now, when I compare her wet kisses with the dry kisses of women, I find hers far superior. After all, what woman can kiss like a horse? Especially when love is galloping, is there a woman on earth who can make the sounds a horse makes? That's why I found her so much more sensual. No woman ever made love as hot as she did. My passion should be understandable. Because even when the goal of pleasure has to be reached quickly, women trot. When they run for pleasure, you always have to push them from behind. But my beloved horse was not like that. I'd say I spent my whole life trying to prevent this disaster. What man wouldn't want such an honest woman? I was so happy. She was my lover, my wife, and my mistress, and the more I loved her, the happier I became. But I guess too much love didn't help her, her heart was tired from too much joy. And finally, death took her from me. So I cut this hair from her tail, this beautiful piece. It will always remind me of her, my sweet lover who is now in heaven. I put it here. Oh, one who has found it, you will probably look at it and you will be able to imagine it in your mind and understand what this being was like.
The letter revealed the true identity of the hair and who it was addressed to. Then they found other papers in the closet that were even more embarrassing to read. All of them described how the person who wrote the letter had put his horse in his wife's place and dressed it in women's clothes. He described how he took the animal everywhere in a scandalous manner, tried to take it to his friends' houses, sat with it at the dinner table, and talked to it in front of everyone. The animal, in accordance with the very specific wishes of its owner, did not seem to complain about all his perversions. They even organized a simple wedding ceremony attended by close friends. In his letter, our hero shamelessly tried to explain this love with logic, with reason. But unfortunately, what was expressed in the brightest words was revealed in the most immoral details.
5
The lawyer, who was always careful, told no one about the letter he had found in the grave, except the doctor he knew. Only once was he surprised that his brother still had the hair on his arm, as if it were his wife, and he said: "Where there is love, there is no lie, no deception, is that possible?
With these words, he made it clear that the wig, who didn't like to talk too much, might be hiding something from him.
"I wonder, did it ever occur to you to investigate your lover's bloodline? I wonder what kind of family he comes from. Who are his parents? Because there are such facts that when they come out, they embarrass the person," the lawyer asked.
"The past doesn't concern me," replied the antiquarian, his eyes hugging the wig that was resting in the bed. "And no matter what, she's very honest now. And I don't think there are any bad things in the past of such a shy, husband-dependent creature."
The doctor, who had been closely involved in the case, did not seem at all surprised that day when he read the letter the lawyer had shown him; everything was very clear. Meanwhile, the lawyer was waiting for the doctor to say something that would justify his painful remarks. But the famous doctor didn't; instead, he put down the letter and began to speak as if remembering the past.
"I had a patient," he said, sitting down in his chair. "His greatest pleasure was making love to heels. He didn't care about women. He only cared if they wore heels. He would first look at a woman's shoes, like them, and then propose. Of course, the poor woman thought it was a proposal, but it wasn't. Because they're used to taking their shoes off when they go to bed. And you can imagine that what happened at that moment is nothing to be ashamed of. Even a child can easily watch these scenes. Because our patient wasn't interested in anything above the knee. He would then become completely aroused and want to get rid of the unnecessary obstacle between the shoes and himself. He would push the woman out of bed and tell her to get out, leaving her shoes behind. How?"
The lawyer, not knowing why he was telling all this, said, "Strange!
The doctor said seriously, "But these people have shown us that their passion is not strange at all. And apart from the fact that love makes even the smartest people ridiculous, it is a very reasonable passion.
The lawyer didn't know where this conversation was going.
The doctor:
"Of course, this patient did not come to us himself. His complaint wasn't that he was in love with shoes. One day he saw a very expensive pair of shoes in a shoemaker's window and immediately fell in love with them. But when he went to see the shoes to ask how they were, he found that they had already been sold to someone else. Since then, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about those cute twins. Our doctors diagnosed this as a typical case of desperate love. Because it was no different from love; the same tedious devotion, a way of thinking that leads to madness, a bunch of stupid repetitions. Then we decided that love is a feeling that can develop independently of the object to which it is attached.
"Of course, you considered this state a disease?"
"Yes, but the happiness and pleasure it brings is no less than that of love. Even more... Even though it may cause some injuries during lovemaking. Because our patient made it obligatory for the woman to kick and trample him in bed with her high heels. And that hurt a lot. But tell me, if he fell in love with the woman and not with the shoes, would he suffer less?"
"Is that all the danger?"
