Ibrahim Nabioglu
It is the month of Ramadan. A sunny weekend morning.
We are in the courtyard of Istanbul's famous Eyüp Sultan Mosque.
During the fasting days, this place takes on a completely different spiritual atmosphere. Soon, it will be impossible to move here due to the crowds. Although the sun generously casts its rays, the air still retains traces of winter – it is cool and clean.
Eyüp Sultan is not only a mosque but also Istanbul's spiritual memory, its history.
This place is built over the tomb of Eyüp Sultan – Abu Ayyub al-Ansari (died 672) – one of the most revered figures in Islamic history. He was a companion who hosted Prophet Muhammad in his home during the Prophet's migration to Medina. In the final years of his life – already around 90 years old – he participated in the campaign against Constantinople and died of illness near the city walls. Abu Ayyub al-Ansari was one of the Prophet's companions known for his knowledge, loyalty, and as a scribe of revelation.
After the conquest of Istanbul in 1453, his tomb was discovered by Akshamsaddin, the great scholar and physician who was the teacher of Fatih Sultan Mehmed and is claimed to be of Azerbaijani Turkic origin. By Fatih's order, a large complex – a mosque, madrasa, imaret, and mausoleum – was built here. Since that day, Eyüp Sultan has become a place where Ottoman sultans girded their swords upon ascending the throne (cülus), offered prayers, and is considered one of Istanbul's most sacred pilgrimage sites.
The mosque embodies the serene and restrained beauty of classical Ottoman architecture.
White stone walls. Slender minarets. Soft light filtering inside.
Centuries of tranquility reign in the courtyard. The sound of water flowing from the ablution fountain mixes with the chirping of birds. It is as if the breath of Istanbul's history is hidden within these walls.
Upon entering the mosque, everything seems to slow down a little.
Ancient carpets absorb the footsteps of the crowd.
A large dome above. Delicate calligraphy panels on the walls.
Soft light filtering through the windows.
One inevitably tunes into a different state of mind here.
A few days have passed since Iran's bombing. I pray for this brutal and unjust war to bypass our country. While my companion is inside the mausoleum, I take a few photos.
There are countless shops around the mosque. Some of them are over a hundred years old. Every time we come here, we invariably buy Ajwa dates. Known as "Prophet's dates," these dates grow in the Medina region. Their color is dark black, and their taste is deep and soft. They hold a special place in Islamic tradition. Many fasters consider it a Sunnah to break their fast with these very dates.
Ramadan pide, on the other hand, is an ancient tradition inherited from the Ottomans. It is one of the indispensable symbols of the iftar table. Soft dough, sesame seeds sprinkled on top, and net-like patterns on the bread…
In the hours leading up to iftar, the scent of pide fills the streets of Istanbul, and people wait in long queues. But for some reason, the taste of pide baked around Eyüp Sultan is different. It is as if the spiritual atmosphere of this place permeates the bread. Even if it cools down by iftar time, it is impossible to leave here without buying pide.
Then there is Güllaç – one of the most delicate desserts of the month of Ramadan. Thin starchy sheets are softened with milk, walnuts are placed between them, and pomegranate seeds are sprinkled on top. Due to its light and refreshing taste, it is considered one of the finest delicacies of the iftar table.
Despite having come here many times, we once again explore the ancient structures around the mosque, especially the historic cemetery. Many of the tombs here are 400-500 years old. Each one is like a page of history written in stone.
Ottoman cemeteries possess a peculiar mystique.
Tall, slender gravestones.
Verses carved by calligraphers on them.
And most interestingly — gravestones with headwear.
While wandering through this cemetery, one quickly realizes that the headwear on the gravestone is not merely an ornament. It is a sign indicating the identity of the deceased. This is precisely the most characteristic feature of Ottoman gravestones. The turban or kavuk on the stone's head seems to whisper who the deceased was. Large turbaned headpieces often belong to the tombs of scholars, ghazis, and statesmen. The shape of the headwear sometimes also indicates the period in which the person lived.
As Ottoman fashion changed, so did the language of these stones. Towards the 19th century, fezzes began to appear on some gravestones. It is as if the breath of the empire's final centuries has fossilized in this red headwear. Long, cylindrical hats without turbans, on the other hand, belong to Mevlevi dervishes. This headwear is the immortalized stone form of the famous “sikke” worn by whirling dervishes.
Thus, these gravestones are not merely tombs. They are a social map of Ottoman society. Here lie scholars, Sufis, statesmen, merchants. Each one is a person who once walked the streets of Istanbul, breathed the air of this city. Perhaps in life, due to their high position, some did not even greet a merchant or a dervish. But now, all of them lie side by side in this ancient garden, in the same silence.
As I wander through the cemetery, I feel that the noise of the great metropolis does not reach here. Only the sound of birds comes from afar. The shadows of the old stones stretch like long lines across the ground.
Centuries of tranquility reign here.
It is as if time flows a little slower.
I stop and take photos.
There is an inscription on every stone.
Every gravestone with headwear carries the fate of a person, the breath of an era, the memory of an empire.
Amidst all these silent memories stands Eyüp Sultan – calm, proud, and majestic.
This place, shining in the light of a Ramadan morning, is as if the very soul of Istanbul.
March 7, 2026
