A Persian Requiem Page 7

  “When is father coming to throw me up in the air?” Mina asked her mother. “You never do that to me!”

  Marjan pouted. Her lips were like little buds that seemed to Zari more beautiful than all the flowers in the world. “We won’t ever talk to you again,” she said, adding her voice to her sister’s. “So there!” And she pleaded, “Now why don’t you throw us in the air, just once?”

  Zari picked Mina up and tried to throw her into the air.

  “You’re too heavy—I can’t do it,” she complained, slapping the child’s chubby thigh.

  “Father’s hands are big and he can do it. Your hands are too small, so you can’t. We’ll wait till your hands grow up,” Mina told her mother.

  At that moment, Ameh came through the garden gate. She had been to the public baths and was holding a paper bag dripping with water. Mina and Marjan ran towards her, shouting: “Auntie, what have you brought us?”

  “Fresh walnuts.”

  “Give us some then.”

  “I hope you enjoyed your bath,” Zari greeted Ameh, taking the paper bag over the children’s heads, so that she could go and wash the walnuts. When she returned, Khadijeh had brought in the bag that Ameh used for her trips to the public baths, and put it down on one of the cane chairs. Ameh took out her towels and hung them on the line. Mina was dashing about chasing Marjan, but when Zari put the plate of walnuts on the table, the children rushed over excitedly.

  “Well, talk about having your prayers answered!” Zari smiled.

  “This town has turned into a zoo,” Ameh complained. “Everywhere you go, those dark little Indian men follow you about saying, ‘Need woman, need woman!’” She dipped her hand in the pool as if to wash away the obscenity of their suggestion. Holding out her wet hand, she sat on a chair and continued:

  “The children in the street tried to chase away the pathetic Indian who followed me; they were teasing, and singing some nonsense at him. Then suddenly the man brings out this chain he had with him, swings it around in the air, stamps his foot, and shoos them all away in no time.”

  Khadijeh appeared then, carrying Ameh’s opium brazier with all the accessories, as well as some fresh tea. As Zari and the twins joined her on the verandah, Mina asked: “Auntie, did the Indian cut the children’s heads off?”

  “Oh yes! He put them over his knee and sawed their heads off, didn’t he?” Marjan said with rounded eyes.

  “Our Khosrow’s late,” Ameh commented. “Perhaps that difficult final exam didn’t go too well, and that’s why he’s not home yet. I think we should send Gholam to fetch him, sister.”

  Before Zari could answer, they spotted Abol-Ghassem Khan coming up the garden path towards the verandah. He was muttering to himself and gesturing with his hands. Zari’s heart sank at the sight of him. Lately she had begun to feel as though she were facing the prophet of doom every time she saw him. And each time he blinked, she imagined he would blink her whole life away. As he reached the edge of the verandah, Zari stood up.

  “Please come in,” she invited.

  “No, I’ll just stay here.”

  “Greetings!” said Ameh Khanom, between two puffs on her opium pipe.

  She put the pipe down next to the brazier and poured some tea, which she handed to her brother. Zari’s eyes were on Abol-Ghassem Khan who put a lump of sugar in his mouth, then poured some tea into the saucer to cool it.

  “Has something happened?” she asked.

  Abol-Ghassem Khan put the saucer down on the edge of the verandah and asked: “Any news of my brother?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “I don’t really know how to tell you this,” he said. Zari suddenly felt dizzy. She sat down and said faintly, “God forbid, has something happened to Yusef?”

  “Out with it, let’s hear the worst!” Ameh cried out.

  “This morning they called from the Governor’s house,” said Abol-Ghassem Khan. “They told me: ‘Miss Gilan Taj has heard a great deal about Khosrow’s colt, and she’s decided she would like it, so we’re offering to buy. Send us the colt and we’ll gladly pay any price you like.’ God knows I’ve been in a state since this morning; I’m so distracted, I can hardly think.”

  Zari’s eyes filled with tears. She looked at Ameh, with her braided hair and red scarf, flushed and tearful by now, hardly able to fix the piece of opium on her pipe for the trembling of her hand. Sure enough, the opium slipped from her grasp into the blazing brazier, raising a lot of smoke.

  “A curse upon their household!” she said. “I’m so furious I could take this brazier with its burning charcoal and smash it over my own head! You didn’t happen to mention, I suppose, that the boy’s whole existence revolves around his horse? They cut off your tongue, did they?”

  Mina sidled up to Ameh and tried to offer her the one remaining walnut which she had held tightly in her little fist.

  “Have it, auntie,” she urged, as if to comfort her. “I was saving it for Khosrow.”

  “Khadijeh!” Zari called out. “Come and take the children to Haj Mohammad Reza’s house and show them the snake he caught yesterday.”

  “Has he taken the teeth out?” Marjan asked. “Has he?”

  “Yes, dear, don’t be afraid,” Zari reassured her.

  Mina took Marjan’s hand, saying: “You play with him for a minute, and then I’ll play with him for a minute, all right?”

  “They play with snakes?” Abol-Ghassem Khan asked incredulously.

  “No, she won’t let the children touch the snake …” Zari replied distractedly.

  “Seeing that everything is done backwards in this house, I thought perhaps …” Abol-Ghassem Khan began with a laugh, but he never finished his sentence. Instead, he asked gently: “Did you find the snake here, in this house?”

  Zari, distraught at the thought of Khosrow parting with Sahar, felt the more she talked about the snake the better.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Yesterday as we were sitting on the verandah, a female snake fell from the windowsill on to the paving in front of the house. Gholam happened to be watering at the time and he smashed the snake over the head with his watering-can. But it kept moving so Gholam had to finish it off with the shovel. He told us that the male snake would eventually come after its mate. So he called in Haj Mohammad the dyer who went to the roof, found the nest, and caught the male snake.”

  “Now I’ve dropped all my precious opium in the fire!” Ameh complained.

  In the end, it was Abol-Ghassem Khan who returned to the main issue.

  “Please don’t imagine that I want to hurt Khosrow,” he said. “I swear on my son Hormoz’s life that Khosrow is very dear to me. I told the Governor’s secretary over the telephone: ‘This child is very attached to his horse; he doesn’t leave its side for a minute. I’m prepared to go to the village and bring my best horses for the Governor’s daughter,’ I forget her name—Gilan Taj, Milan Taj, or whatever. She said, ‘Well, Miss Gilan Taj has had typhus … she’s just recovering … and she’s been hankering after your nephew’s horse.’”

  Ameh Khanom prepared her opium pipe again. She drew on it long and hard.

  “Didn’t you tell them his father had gone to the lowlands and to wait until he returned next week for his permission?” she said. “Don’t you know that my sister-in-law doesn’t move without Yusef’s permission?”

  “As God is my witness, I did. The Governor’s secretary said: ‘Your brother’s wife would refuse you a worthless horse? They’ll pay for it, they don’t want it for free, you know.’”

  Putting the opium aside, Ameh poured tea for Zari and herself.

  “I know this mess is all your doing,” she said to her brother. “To become deputy, you’ll stoop to anything. How did that little minx find out that Khosrow has a horse? You’ve engineered this whole thing. And now you’re stuck with it.”

  “By God Almighty and all the holy prophets!” Abol-Ghassem Khan protested. “I swear on the Holy Quran that I never mentioned the horse. Don’t yo
u know about Ezzat-ud-Dowleh? She’s at their house from morning to evening, plotting and scheming behind everyone’s back—a right old busybody … Anyway, I tried to ignore the whole thing, but just before I left, the Governor himself called me to ask about the horse. I said: ‘Your honour, my brother is away in the lowlands.’ He said: ‘Come, come, my daughter has just recovered from an illness. Send the horse over for a few days. When she gets tired of it, we’ll send it back.’”

  Zari thought that maybe he was telling the truth. She looked at Ameh, who was poking the ashes with the tongs. There were tears in her eyes. “This town has gone mad,” Ameh said. “I’m getting out of this place. I’ll go and live in Karbala, the holy city, as my poor mother did.”

  “What will you do for a passport?” Abol-Ghassem Khan shouted, his temper rising. “And what about an exit permit? No wonder they say women are bird-brained! And all of this with a war going on … You think it’s going to be easy to leave?” Turning to Zari, he said: “Tomorrow morning they’re sending for Sahar.”

  “When you’ve given in once, they expect you to give in every time,” Zari said, remembering the earrings. “It’s my fault, I’ve been too weak. But this time I’ll stand up to them.” Suddenly she felt something awaken in her. “I’ll go to the Governor myself,” she declared. “I’ll tell him there’s a limit to everything. Is his daughter the only one who’s allowed to hanker after a horse? Can’t he bear to see anyone else in this town with something precious? Mine, mine, mine, everything always mine!’”

  Abol-Ghassem Khan couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Sister!” he exploded. “I would never have thought it of you! Now you’re sounding like Yusef!”

  “If only more people were like Yusef, things would be very different,” Zari said. “Our men must learn to stand up for themselves. And if they’re away, their wives should do it in their place. If more of our people had the courage to stand up for their rights, maybe one day we could achieve something.”

  Abol-Ghassem Khan put his head between his hands.

  “I swear to God, you’ve all gone mad!” he moaned. “That one says she’s going to up and leave … this one says she going to stand up to them. See what kind of a corner they’ve worked me into! And all for a miserable horse …”

  At that moment Khosrow came out of the stables with Sahar. Zari watched as he let the colt loose in the garden, then walked on towards the verandah. His eyes travelled from his uncle to his mother; then from his mother to his aunt.

  “What’s happened?” he asked, seeing their sullen expressions.

  Abol-Ghassem Khan laughed. “I’m going hunting, and I’m taking you with me. Don’t listen to what women say. They’re all cowards.”

  “How did your exam go?” his aunt asked.

  “It went very well, auntie. I think I’ll get top marks,” Khosrow replied. Turning to his uncle, he asked, “Can I take Sahar?”

  “No, son, we’re going a long way. Captain Singer is coming too. I want to show them what fine young men you and Hormoz have become. You can ride all kinds of horses, you can shoot well …”

  “It’s not possible,” Zari interrupted. “Khosrow’s got exams.”

  “But mother,” Khosrow replied in astonishment, “you know very well my exams finished today. Please let me go.” Turning to his uncle again, he said: “If only I could bring Sahar along …”

  “Sister, let him come and see something of life, become a man, outgrow his fears. He’ll be in good hands, I promise you.”

  Ameh, who had been deep in thought till now, interrupted him:

  “The man you want to make out of him is a far cry from what Yusef has in mind. Leave the child alone. All this lying and pretence—”

  “Auntie, mother, please let me go! I’m old enough now,” Khosrow begged.

  “Go on, son, get ready for the trip. I’ll let you use my own Brno—that is, if it’s not too heavy for you,” Abol-Ghassem Khan said cheerfully.

  “I have my own gun,” Khosrow answered as he hurried off.

  “Do you imagine it’s possible to stand up to the Governor?” Abol-Ghassem asked gently. “Yusef is risking his life with the kinds of things he’s been doing and saying lately. At least let me cover up for him. I’ve heard that Malek Rostam has been listening to my brother’s high-flown nonsense and he went and pulled a gun on his own uncle. Now he’s taken refuge with Yusef. They’re even saying that Yusef has handed out provisions to thirty tribal families. Malek Rostam, who’s even more out of his mind than my brother, and that demented Majid, have joined forces with him to build houses for these families, filling their heads with all sorts of dangerous ideas.” Abol-Ghassem Khan paused.

  “For instance,” he sighed, “they’re building thorn-houses out of star-thistle. Pipes take water to the roof, the water drips down on to the walls, and the wind cools the place. Of course our dear Yusef is sitting there, whistling away, thoroughly enjoying himself! Doesn’t the young fool realize that these tribal people don’t need provisions? That they don’t need thorn-houses? As far back as anyone can remember, they’ve been content with their acorns, mountain almonds and their own shelters. Why should they need houses? Their black tents are more than enough for them. These people are rebels against the government. Just a few days ago they disarmed a gendarmerie regiment in the Takab Pass. And Yusef has joined up with a bunch of dreamers like himself to take over the unlawful distribution of the town’s provisions.” Abol-Ghassem Khan paused again. “So you see,” he concluded, “there’s no harm in giving the Governor a small bribe now and again to soften him a bit and make him better disposed towards Yusef. I tell you, it’s fatal to fall out with the Governor.”

  “You can’t oppose the Governor,” said Zari dejectedly, “and you can’t oppose Singer. They’ve become sworn brothers. This town becomes more and more like the Mordestan red-light district every day.”

  “By Almighty God!” Abol-Ghassem Khan lashed out. “More of Yusef’s nonsense! Look Zari, don’t argue with me. Don’t I have any rights at all over my brother’s worthless horse? I swear on my dead father’s soul that I won’t let Khosrow suffer … I’ll take him hunting. I’ll keep him in the village for a few days. Whichever of my colts he chooses, he can have. Get a receipt for the horse when they come early tomorrow morning to take it away. When we return, just say the horse died. It’s the only way. While we’re in the village, I’ll find a way to tell Khosrow that the horse is sick. I’ll say he mustn’t let himself be so attached to worldly things if he’s going to suffer so badly when he loses them.”

  Ameh raised her head. “Why don’t you practise what you preach?” she said bitterly.

  Before Abol-Ghassem Khan could reply, Khadijeh came to take away the opium brazier.

  “Where are the children?” Zari asked.

  “They’re with Gholam watching some tribal men and women do a dance. These beggars from the tribes are in such a sorry state, poor souls!” Khadijeh sighed.

  “Good gracious!” Abol-Ghassem Khan said with a laugh. “Why does every member of this household have to be so concerned with the welfare of tribesmen, peasants and porters? I just don’t understand it.”

  “Khadijeh, go and light a hookah and bring it here,” Zari said. As Khadijeh walked out, Khosrow came on to the verandah.

  “Mother, will you give me the key to the cupboard?” he asked. “I want to get my gun … Have you seen my hunting trousers?” he added. “I can’t find them.”

  “Come without them, boy,” Abol-Ghassem Khan said cheerfully. “We have so many pairs of hunting trousers there, you wouldn’t believe it!”

  Zari felt a lump in her throat. She took out the chain from her house-dress, and placed it on the rug on which she was sitting. When Khosrow left, she started to cry. “So this is how they manage to corner you,” she thought to herself. “By making all their deals behind your back. But there’s still time. Tomorrow morning when they come from the Governor, I can refuse to give the horse. I can tell the Governor�
��s servant that Sahar died and that will be an end to it.”

  “Sister, as God is my witness, I can’t bear to see you cry,” Abol-Ghassem Khan began. But he stopped short because Khosrow walked back in just then carrying his travelling clothes, his rifle and saddle-bag.

  “I’m ready,” he announced. Zari, struggling to hold back her tears, bent her head. Khosrow kissed his aunt, then turned to his mother and put his arms around her neck. Kissing her wet face, he said, “I’m not going away to China, you know … Mother, ask uncle to let me take Sahar with us.”

  “Come along, son,” Abol-Ghassem Khan urged. “Gholam will take care of Sahar.” And he said goodbye and walked away.

  “I can’t refuse to go,” Khosrow whispered in his mother’s ear, “because uncle will think I’m afraid of the shooting.”

  Sahar was standing quite still under the orange trees. He didn’t move when Khosrow approached him. The boy took the colt’s face between his hands and stroked his mane. Then he called over his shoulder: “Mother, don’t forget to give him some sugar lumps. Gholam knows the rest. He’ll muck out the stable, give him clean hay and groom him.”