It was the twenty-eighth of November 1988. Goldash didn’t have anything to do on the ground floor of 147 Mentmore Terrace, where he lived and worked as an outdoor machinist. He cleaned his flat and had a shave, a shower and breakfast. It was raining gently. He took his umbrella and went walking in London Fields. Leaves were falling gracefully from ageing branches and recycling themselves happily. He walked around the park, stood under a plane tree and looked at the branches. He was enjoying the falling of the leaves when he realised a puppy was pulling at his trousers. He was scared and stood quite still. An elderly man approached him calmly and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, son. She is a vegetarian.”
That was the turning point in Goldash’s life. When the puppy pulled at his trousers, he remembered to go to Dillons bookshop and buy a copy of the book Reflexology: The Definitive Guide. He immediately walked to Graham Road, took the number 38 bus, and got off at Holborn before heading to the bookshop on Gower Street. He found the book in the basement of the shop and checked its price, realised he had forgotten to bring his wallet, and looked a bit strange checking all his trouser and jacket pockets again and again. He heard the voice of a woman.
“Excuse me, sir.”
When he saw her face, he was mesmerised and dropped the book from his hand. Both of them crouched down to pick it up at the same time, and he hit his nose against her knee. His nose started to bleed. She took a tissue from her handbag and gave it to him.
“I’m a doctor. My name is Oya Oydash.”
He couldn’t say anything and just stood there, holding the tissue to his nose. She held his hand and took him to the nearest café. She bought coffee for both of them and waited for him to say something. When he had finished his coffee, he finally started to speak.
“I’m sorry, doctor. I was having a poet’s tragedy and couldn’t speak for a while.”
“Are you a poet?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Where do you come from?”
“I come from Gulistan.”
“Unbelievable! Can you recite some of your poems to me please?”
“This is very strange, doctor. Suddenly, I don’t remember any of my poems. My memory has failed me for the first time.”
He stood up and checked his jacket pockets.
“Yes, I’ve found my notebook. These are my recent poems. Would you like to read them for me? I like it when somebody reads my poems.”
He gave her his notebook, and she opened it and read two poems.



This fertile land has a golden field
On the left-hand side.
Many enthusiastic volunteers
Were dying to be the owners.
All of them failed to get it.
Though they knew
Keeping it would be more difficult
Than getting it.
This fertile land needs a conqueror
Who knows how to get it
And how to keep it.



If she has the combination of
A beautiful body and a brilliant brain,
She will be in charge all the time.
So never try to compete with her.
It is more than enough
To be her humble worker.

“I like them very much. Can I have your name please?”
“My name is Goldash Goldadash.”
“Are you studying medicine?”
“No, I’m studying accountancy. I am a qualified reflexologist and massage therapist, though.”
“You were at the medical books section in the bookshop. I thought you might be studying medicine and was going to buy that book for you.”
“That’s very kind of you. I give reflexology and massages to my landlady, her parents and her friends. In return she doesn’t take any rent from me. I don’t have any other clients at present. I do a cleaning job in a snooker club in the mornings, and work part-time as an outdoor machinist. I don’t go to college on Mondays and have no work today.”
“What is unbelievable, doctor? You’ve said that twice. I’m not lying to you. I would never lie to you. You are a doctor.”
“I believe what you say, you seem to be an honest person. Somebody told me once that one day I would meet a poet from Gulistan who had healing hands. I thought she was joking and didn’t believe her. That is unbelievable, isn’t it?”
“Yes, doctor. I’m beginning to understand you. Somebody told me that one day I would meet a delightful doctor. Her birthday would be on the twenty-third of April. I thought she was joking and didn’t believe her either.”
“My birthday is on the twenty-third of April. This is truly incredible.”
He stared at her. “You’re not joking, are you?”
“No, I am not joking. Here, have a look at my driving licence.”
He looked at it and said, “It is the twenty-third of April. This truly is like a dream.”
“Some dreams do come true after all. I know Gulistan means ‘the land of roses’. I am told people give and receive lots of roses there. Is that true?”
“Yes, it might be true. I haven’t had any experiences like that yet though.”
She smiled at him. “I knew you wouldn’t have had experiences like that. When you were a teenager, you had a stomach operation, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. How do you know that?”
“I am both a medical doctor and a medical psychic. When I look at you, I also know your body’s medical condition.”
“I’ve never heard of a medical psychic before. I am so happy to meet you.”
“So am I.”
“Where do you come from, doctor?”
“I come from Lovistan.”
“I know Lovistan means ‘the land of lovely people’. You must be the princess of that lovely land.”
“You’re right. I haven’t had either reflexology or a massage before. I would really like to enjoy your healing hands today.”
“I’m not sure if I have healing hands, although my landlady and her parents say I have.”
“I know you have no money on you. Would you take this twenty-pound note and buy that book from the bookshop? I’m going to make a phone call.”
“That’s very kind of you. Thank you, doctor.”
“Please call me Oya. I am your friend now.”
“Yes, you are my dearest friend.”
He bought the book and came back to the café.
“Where do you live, Goldash?”
“I live in Hackney. Let me hail a black cab.”