Legendary Love

I can’t quite get this picture out of my mind. I’m sitting at the tram station, Sultanahmet in Persia, waiting for the last tram to go back to the hotel. It has been an evening of whirling Dervishes and belly dancing and I’m feeling so lucky as I sit on my bench and watch the moonlight play over the turrets of the Blue Mosque that stand tall beyond the trees.

And then I see them; a middle aged couple. She’s wearing the standard Muslim long gown and her hair is covered in a headscarf. Her back is towards me and I can see that she is short and a little on the plumb side. She is talking to a man who is facing me. He’s a middle aged man with a paunch and his blue shirt is half tucked in and he’s leaning on one leg as he talks to the lady. I note that he’s fat and unfit and has stubble on his face.

There was a certain comfort in the way they stood and chatted, totally oblivious to anyone who was watching them, as though they were lost in their own little world. There was genuine affection and I could see them laughing and chuckling away, holding hands in-between. She says something to him and he laughs and reaches out to touch her cheek and then this dowdy old couple just transform.  Here was no haggard, middle aged man but a dashing prince looking at his beloved princess. And she was no fat lady, but a queen being courted by her king. I couldn’t take my eyes off them and watched them till my tram arrived. I wanted to take a picture of them – but it felt like an intrusion on something so beautiful and personal.

 Ah, these are the moments that make me believe in legendary love.