One evening I met one of Dogan's most interesting friends. He was a beggar but he sure did not look or acted like one. He was a total anomaly - the classiest beggar I had ever seen. His body was crippled from waist down so he had to squat on his haunches and when he walked, his hands became his front legs that he used to give him momentum while his legs dragged behind. Despite this handicap, his mind was sharp, alert and not at all crippled. His handsome face and dark, lively, intelligent eyes gave him a certain stature. In fact, his whole being radiated light, energy and warmth.

I don't think he felt sorry for himself. There was not even the slightest hint of apology for his deformity. He never complained or expected pity from others. On the contrary, he seemed truly happy with his life, despite having so little in the way of material and physical comforts. It was a bit of an anomaly.

I had wanted to visit the famous thermal spas of Bursa, so Ragib decided to escort me there. It was the first time that I had ever spent any time with someone like him. But he made me feel at ease with him and I began to overlook his handicap and treat him like a perfectly normal person. We strode through the streets together, Ragib darting through traffic like a fast spider; he used his left foot and his right hand to propel him forward. He was low to the ground but in another sense, high above the crowds. People looked with interest at the strange spectacle of a girl walking and talking alongside this poor deformed beggar. But they did not look at us with pity.

Everywhere we went, he was treated with dignity and kindness, never horror or pity. I was amazed with his nimble and quick-witted movement. We found a taxi and Ragib hopped in the front seat. I sat directly behind him and kept staring at his chiseled face reflected in the side mirror. He could be an engineer, scientist, poet, writer, doctor, lawyer if one just looked at his face and nothing else. He certainly had the allure of someone important. He intimidated me.

We descended a steep hill to arrive at the bathhouse. Along the foothills of one of the tallest mountains in Turkey, Uludag, once referred to as Mount Olympus, lies the heart of old Bursa, the district of Çekirge, famous for its thermal springs and spas. Water is a constant theme in Bursa. It flows liberally in fountains and streams and waterfalls and hot mineral pools. It soaks the gardens where Cypress trees stand tall and erect as the pencil thin minarets of the old mosques.

Bursa has never forgotten that it was a former capital, a sacred city, a leading spa town of Asia Minor from the time of the Romans through the 19th century when pashas came with their wives and stayed at huge baroque hotels taking the waters. Now the hotels are new and modern but the same hot water flows from the same great mountain that feeds it.
Ragib courteously waited for me outside for over an hour as I was bathed and massaged by a plump Turkish matron.

It was a jet black night illuminated with a half disk moon. I looked down at Ragib and for an instant pictured him as an illustrious professor lecturing on the history of the world, which he knew so well. He spoke terrific English and Arabic that he had taught himself. We headed back to town to meet our friends.

This time, in the taxi, he sat next to me and I couldn't help but notice that he was staring at me intently with those espresso eyes. Was I just imagining it but was he trying to flirt with me? I think he was trying to be fresh with me, never for a moment downplaying his limitations. He gave me his cell phone number and said we should meet up in Istanbul.

I was so thrown off by his behavior. I had always thought that handicapped beggars were humble and downcast. But this one was confident, proud and even a bit arrogant. It was hard to reconcile his contradictions. But then I realized the enigma of Ragib. He was proof positive that our limits are formed entirely in our minds. He was imprisoned by his body, but he was not a prisoner of his mind. He was utterly free in his mind and pure in his spirit. Ragib was a true survivor. He gave me a brief and poignant lesson in personal freedom.

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