I happened to be in the Kasimiye Seminary when the rueful tale was told. I planned to attend the recital to be staged by the State Opera and Ballet Troupe. I was under great emotional strain. I was lucky enough to experience the unique pleasure of music in this edifice, which I admired. I was wondering how the music would be echoed on the walls. For me the concert was really an unbelievable phenomenon... I went up to the highest floor of the seminary. The lights cast their manifold hues on the walls. The members of the choir had lined up in rows. How coherent would Baroque music be with such an atmosphere... When the music started, suddenly it began to rain. The artists picking their instru-ments hurried outside from courtyard. Turning my head I looked at the sky. I had never seen such a sky before. The sky had practically descended and the clouds had become pitch dark. They were rapidly flowing... The moon oftentimes showed its face among the clouds but the pitch dark clouds moving with great speed were obscuring its visibility. The concert got going several times. On each occasion, rain began to pour down wit dire soon as the music commenced... At last the concert was ended and we started walking towards the town. A little later the fury of the sky came to an end, the clouds dispersed and the sky cleared.

        There I was told many legends. I was particularly impressed by the way Sultan Kasım was executed. Kasım who had such a great masterpiece built had been beheaded at the behest of Timur. His sister in great distress taking the blood on the ground and scattered it all over the walls. Taking off her veil, she smeared it with blood subsequently lashing the walls with it. The next morning I went there and saw the traces of blood. The blood traces became more visible when water was sprinkled on it. Many television channels passed this as news. Science intervened and had the blood traces broached in this legend scrutinised...It became apparent after a number of tests that these were root paint or henna. On each trip, I looked at the traces on the wall...If we confide in science; these are not blood traces. On the other hand, if we fall in with legends this is the pain in the sister's heart as embroidered on the wall... A grief which is indelible... Although not being verified by science, this episode is alive in the legend...The grief has been virtually absorbed by the legend. The grief in the heart of the sister...On each trip, I looked at these traces and ruminated. Why are these tracings not being deleted? They maintain their same colour tone on the wall. Would henna last for so many years? However, we should fall in with the assumptions of sciences. This being the case, legends do not fail to attract their audiences. The blood of the personage who had this monumental artifice built has been dissipated in the walls of the edifice. However, more importantly, is the manner in which the suffering of the sister has been embroidered on the wall. This appears to be a living grief.