A Persian Requiem (14 page)

“Sister, which way did you come?” Abol-Ghassem Khan asked. “Halfway up the hill, we realized you weren’t with us. We followed you to the street …” He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I suppose there’s no whisky to be had in this house? Spare us a bottle of Tavuus Khanom’s wine then, will you? As there’s no Dutch cheese to be found either, we’ll put up with some goat cheese and thyme. I’m not an ungrateful sort, after all!”

Zari didn’t move, watching for Khosrow as he approached them by the garden path. His footsteps could be heard on the gravel, but his body was enveloped in darkness. He walked up to his mother and flung the bundle he had in his hand at her feet. It was the sack, the rope and the blanket.

“Mother, why did you tell me so many lies?” he shouted. “Why?” And turning to his father, he added, “Father, you ask them why they all got together to fool me? Would they do something like that if you had been here?”

“I’ve decided,” Yusef sighed, “that I’m incapable of changing anything. If I can’t even influence my own wife …”

“We were afraid you might do something rash and endanger your life to try to get Sahar back,” Ameh told Khosrow, interrupting Yusef, “which you did … and now don’t shout so much, you’ll wake the twins.”

But Khosrow stubbornly raised his voice louder than before. “Either the children are sleeping, or the ladies are afraid!” he shouted. “Women are either worrying or lying. All they can do is to dig graves, or sit around and cry!”

“Sister, how about that wine?” Abol-Ghassem Khan asked, blinking.

Zari looked at him; she looked at all of them. How strange and unfamiliar they all seemed! Abol-Ghassem Khan bit his lip and turned to Khosrow. “I told you it was my fault, my boy, now don’t argue so much with your mother …” And to Zari he said, “Sister, give us your wine, I want to drink the boys’ health.”

Zari walked off like a robot. She went to the cellar and fetched the wine. Khadijeh followed her with a tray of drinks and snacks. Zari could hear Ameh Khanom telling Hormoz, “You’re the older one, you should’ve had the sense to tell us. Poor Zari nearly died of fright tonight.”

“But if we told you, you would’ve tried to stop us,” said Hormoz.

“If they had seen you climbing that wall, they would have shot you!”

“Well, they didn’t, and no one shot us,” said Hormoz. “Our plan was to have me climb the wall first, then pull Khosrow up by the rope tied around his waist. We wanted to throw the blanket over Sahar’s head and bring him out through the back gate. We were going to let the snake loose in the garden as our revenge …”

Abol-Ghassem Khan poured three glasses of wine. He handed one to Hormoz. “Cheers!” he said. “Drink this stuff from now on and try to enjoy the world! I hope you won’t turn out like your uncle who ruins life for himself and everyone around him by taking on a whole nation’s burdens. Brother, why aren’t you drinking? Lord knows this world isn’t worth it; all your pleas for justice, your frustration and your self-destructive attitude. A man of the world like myself is clever enough to have his smuggled whisky always at hand! One must take advantage of these foreigners, you know. Besides, they’re having the time of their lives behind your back and a good laugh at your expense. Actually, why don’t I break the good news to all of you now? I’ve finally made it as deputy in parliament and my appointment has just been confirmed! The telegram of approval arrived from Tehran today.”

And he got up and did an absurd little dance of joy.

“Uncle, you’ll probably go to Tehran and take Hormoz with you,” Khosrow said sadly. “We had so many plans together …”

“Yes, my dear boy,” Abol-Ghassem Khan replied, “I’m certainly taking Hormoz. He’s very lucky too. Here the two of you have been taken in like so many idiots by that man Fotouhi. The fool’s gone to Isfahan to get a permit to start a Communist party here, and he’s persuading the seamen down south in Bushehr to join him. Pah!” Turning to Yusef he added, “I hear his highness came to you first to try to enlist you, but thank God for once you had the sense to refuse. I don’t believe in these political parties one bit. They’d invited me to join that Anglophile Baradaran party too. I didn’t refuse, though, I just put them off for the time being.” Then he chuckled and added, “Actually, it wouldn’t be so bad, would it? One brother flirting with the Russians, and the other with the British. When the going gets tough, one brother could come to the rescue of the other. Still, I guess you’re not the kind to help out your own flesh and blood when it’s needed …” He lifted his glass again and said, “Cheers!”

There was a pause while he carefully rolled some meat patties, pickled eggplant and fresh herbs in a piece of bread and gave it to Khosrow. Then he continued, “I was there when the man reported to the Governor about you and Fotouhi, telling us how well you’d spoken and stood up to them. I said well, don’t take my brother here too lightly! It’s not for nothing that he has a doctorate in agricultural economics from Manchester or Massagussets or
whatever
university it is …” He laughed heartily at his own joke. Then he added, “Actually, I’m making up these names right now. At the time I didn’t mention the name of your university. I don’t even remember the name. Anyway, our man said you told them you don’t like being a slave—either to an individual or to a group. You’d said you despise party discipline. Even though laziness was probably behind it all, I’m still proud that, for once in your life, you came out with the right thing …”

Yusef shook his head bitterly. “That person was obviously a bit of a hypocrite, and hadn’t understood most of what I said, or didn’t repeat it all because you were there …”

“On the contrary,” Abol-Ghassem Khan interrupted, defending the man. “From the report he gave the Governor, it was clear he had been keeping his eyes and ears open.”

“The main thing I said was that it wasn’t as easy as they thought,” explained Yusef. “I said Marxism or even socialism is a difficult school of thought which requires careful training and education. I told them that adapting those ideals successfully to our way of life, attitudes and social fabric, requires a great deal of maturity, open-mindedness and sacrifice. I said I was afraid they were about to stage a play with inexperienced actors; that because of its novelty the play would draw large crowds for a while, but that soon both actors and audience would tire of it and despair. To achieve something for the people of this country, we need enlightened minds, intellectuals, and no outside interference.”

“And what actors these are! Gorbeh Shah Cheraq, Masha Allah Qari, Fotouhi, Seyyid Agha with the long face, the son of Ghavam’s wet-nurse … Hah!”

“I didn’t mean to insult anyone,” Yusef replied sadly. “These people are worth ten times the rest of the so-called Actors of our Golden Age …”

Hormoz laughed uproariously. Abol-Ghassem Khan threw him a ferocious look. Hormoz lifted his glass clumsily to his lips,
grimacing
as he swallowed.

“My uncle is right,” he opined.

“Who asked you to air your views, you young parasite?” his father retorted.

“Brother, let him have his say,” Ameh Khanom interceded. “Don’t shut him up like this in front of everyone.”

Hormoz stammered, “This—this very Masha Allah Qari has so far sold two of the houses he inherited in the weavers’ quarter, and distributed food among the poor with the money.”

“Don’t tell so many fibs, boy!” Abol-Ghassem Khan snapped. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Let’s go now, it’s getting late. I was in such a rush, I forgot my night-pass. We’ll be lucky if we don’t get stopped under the curfew.” He stood up and told Yusef, “Do you imagine that the British are just going to sit quietly and watch while others carry on as they like down by the Gulf? You just wait and see how they’ll buy off all these upstart Communists in one go. If they can’t do that, they’ll bribe the big shots and the leaders. Then all the pious, gullible, freedom-loving idiots better start watching out!”

After Abol-Ghassem Khan had left, Yusef turned to Khosrow. “How many times have you been to Fotouhi’s house?” he asked.

“Four times.”

“Did he give you the idea of stealing the horse?”

“No, he said, just like you did tonight, to try and find the solution to the problem on my own. Hormoz said let’s do a sit-in and protest. I said no, it’s better if we just steal him.”

“You should have told your mother where you were going.”

“Told my mother?” Khosrow sniggered. “I’m not a baby anymore, I’m a man. Mother likes to cover up and stop you from doing things. The first thing Mr Fotouhi taught us was to burn the bridges behind us so there would be no way back. He said we were to memorize those words like a lesson.”

“Well, bless my soul!” Zari exclaimed angrily. “You’ve got to have a reason to be burning bridges behind you! What reason do you have? What have you ever had but love and affection from your father and me? Have we neglected your lessons, your schooling, your clothes or your fun for an instant? If Fotouhi is at all sincere, he should look after his pathetic sister at the insane asylum, who’s glued to the window, waiting for him to come and take her to some imaginary garden!”

“But Mr Fotouhi says when society is reformed, no-one will go mad, and every place will be a garden!” Khosrow said innocently.

“I’m certain a Fotouhi-type is just what we need to reform our society!” Zari snapped back sarcastically.

“Can’t he, father?” Khosrow turned to Yusef.

“If Fotouhi and others like him can’t,” Yusef answered, “at least they’ve offered our people the opportunity of sharing an important experience.”

“I don’t understand, father,” Khosrow said helplessly. “You’re talking above my head again.” Suddenly he grimaced at his mother and said, “In any case, Mr Fotouhi doesn’t lie, and he defends your rights behind your back!”

“If I lied about Sahar,” Zari said in a calm and motherly tone, “it was on your uncle’s orders. At any rate, I don’t want you children to be brought up with fighting and quarrelling around you. I want our home to be peaceful, so …”

Khosrow finished his mother’s sentence, “So, as Mr Fotouhi says, we can all be blind calves who never see when we turn into cows. Just like …”

“That’s enough now,” Yusef stopped him authoritatively.

“No, let him talk,” Zari said with bitterness. “He probably means a cow like me. Now listen here, the two of you, do you really want to hear the truth? You remember the day of the Governor’s
daughter’s
wedding? They came and took my emerald earrings as a loan, and never returned them. On the day of the foreigners’ party, the Governor’s daughter had the nerve to thank me for the present I gave her. Then they started talking about the horse. I’d decided to stand firm and not give in this time, in spite of Abol-Ghassem Khan’s insistence. I knew myself that eventually I’d have to stand up to them. But I was afraid. Yes I was afraid of that gendarme who came to get the horse …”

“But that stupid idiot was Gholam’s friend!” Khosrow broke in. “You could’ve tricked him somehow, you’re good at that!” Turning to his father, he explained, “He was that same man who followed us half-way up the hill after we left the guard-house and said I could come and ride Sahar in the mornings. He said the little mistress wouldn’t mind. He said the poor animal had lost a lot of weight and wouldn’t let the girl ride him at first, but now she can take a few turns around the garden. She doesn’t dare go outside with him yet … he said he’d taught Sahar to trot. He said Gholam
beat him up …” His lips puckered and for a moment he became the same little boy whose plaything had been snatched away and given to another, not the lad burning with desire for manhood.

“That night I wanted to tell you about my earrings, Yusef,” Zari continued, “but you were already so angry, I didn’t want to make things worse … it’s always like that, to keep peace in the family …”

“I always tell lies,” Khosrow finished her sentence for her.

“When I said enough, I meant enough!” Yusef reprimanded sharply. And he added thoughtfully, “It’s not your mother’s fault. It’s the way things work in this town; the best school is the British school, the best hospital the missionary hospital, and when a girl wants to learn embroidery, it has to be on a Singer sewing machine with Singer for a salesman. The teachers who’ve trained your mother have always tried to steer her away from reality, filling her instead with some etiquette and coquetry and embroidery. She can only talk about peace and quiet …” And suddenly turning on Zari he shouted, “Woman, what use is this peace and quiet when it’s based on deception? Why shouldn’t you have the courage to stand up to them and say those earrings are a wedding present from my husband, a keepsake from his late mother? After all, the poor woman died in poverty but she was still thinking of the bride her son would choose … How could you have given them up so easily? It’s not their value that matters. It’s the memory and the love behind them.” He paused for breath. “Woman, think a little bit. When you become too soft, everyone will bend you.”

Ameh Khanom who had been silent for a long time, decided she had had enough. “What’s all this about?” she said. “Why are father and son taking it out on this poor soul? Giving away the horse was not at all her fault. I was a witness. I even told her to give it away. As for the earrings, when I first heard the story from
Ezzat-ud-Dowleh
, I was very upset too, but after I thought it over, I decided she couldn’t have refused them. What can you do when there are people who govern your possessions and your life, not just your town? Now do you want to know the truth, brother? She is soft, she gives bribes, so they leave you alone. And that’s enough for one night. Eat your dinner and go to bed. Tomorrow morning it will all be water under the bridge. As for me I’m going to bed.” With that she got up and left.

“I’m going to show you what I can do,” Khosrow said, standing
up. “I’m not my father’s son if I don’t get Sahar out of their clutches. First I’ll write a letter to the Governor himself and if he doesn’t answer, I’ll go to see him. My father and Mr Fotouhi are right. I have to solve my problem myself. If the Governor refuses to see me, I’ll do my best not to get upset. No one’s ever going to see me cry again. Mother, when they caught us, I was really crying for your sake because I knew you’d be worried about our being late. I hated crying in front of Hormoz, in front of the officers, but I couldn’t help it because I know how afraid you are about me or father … Comrade Fotouhi …”