Trepidation gave way to awe moments after I exited Istanbul’s Ataturk airport on 8 June, two days after the beginning of the holy month of Ramzan, and a day after bomb blasts had ripped through the city, killing several policemen. Except for the barricades and huge posse of security personnel, it was quintessentially summertime Europe, breezy and sunny, and there was no sign of unrest. “Bomb blasts? No dikkat. All fine,” said my cabbie in halting English. Dikkat, Turkish for danger, is the root of its Hindi variant. The trouble was far away from us, assured the taxi driver, who in his seventies seemed dressed to kill. Named Aydin (meaning ‘enlightened’), he was a veteran, he confessed, having driven many celebrities around Turkey’s largest city in his heyday. He had…