Women Without Men

by Shahrnush Parsipur

  Flabbergasted, Ostovary asked, “What is the hurry, madam? Stay in town for the time being. I will supervise the project. And Mosayeb will be here to help.”

  “No,” Farrokhlaqa said emphatically. “I’ll be here myself. I don’t want it to take longer than a month.”

  There was a knock at the garden gate. “It will not be proper, madam,” opined Mosayeb, as he moved toward the gate. “The local peasants don’t know you and they are nosy. You see? They are already at the door.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Farrokhlaqa said, “I’ll teach them not to mess around with me.”

  Mosayeb opened the door to a man and woman. “Pardon me, young man,” the man addressed Mosayeb. “Is there need for a gardener at this villa?”

  “For sure, my man, for sure,” Farrokhlaqa intervened, before Mosayeb could make a response. “Are you a gardener?”

  “My dear lady,” answered the man, “I am a gardener. They call me ‘Kind Gardener.’ I am well-known for having a green thumb. I touch a bush and it sprouts a hundred stems, and I grow a hundred blooms on each stem.”

  Farrokhlaqa’s head was spinning, what with the human-tree and now the green-thumb gardener.”

  “Can you do construction work?” she asked.

  “I can do everything, madam,” he replied boastfully. “Everything.”

  “Who is that?” Farrokhlaqa asked, pointing to the woman beside him. “Your wife?”

  “No, madam,” he answered. “I met this poor woman on the Karadj highway, confused, not knowing where she was. When she saw me she screamed and threw herself at my feet, crying. I asked her why she cried and kissed my feet. She said I was the first man she’d seen in six months that had a head.”

  “Is she crazy?” Farrokhlaqa asked.

  “I don’t think so,” said the man. “Anyway, she followed me here. She says her name is Zarrinkolah. She says at one time she did some sinful things, but she’s now foresworn it all.”

  “Zarrinkolah,” Farrokhlaqa addressed the woman. “Can you cook?”

  “No, Ma’am,” she answered.

  “Can you do house cleaning?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “How about washing dishes?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Then what can you do?”

  “Madam,” said the woman, “I can learn to do all these things. What I can do is tell stories and sing songs. Besides, although I am young, I have a world of experience.”

  “What is your real name?” Farrokhlaqa asked, turning to the gardener.

  “What is the point of knowing my real name?” he answered. “Everyone calls me ‘Kind Gardener.’ You too can call me that.”

  “Gardener,” she said, “as of today you are my employee. But what do we do about this woman?”

  “Employ her, too,” Kind Gardener suggested. “She’ll mill around the place and learn to do things.”

  “So be it,” said Farrokhlaqa. She thought the woman had the potential of becoming a useful addition to the house. She didn’t look dishonest; in fact she appeared simple and sincere. Turning to the driver she ordered, “Bring back as much of the furniture and luggage as possible. Suitcases are packed and carpets are rolled. If necessary, rent a truck. I want everything here tonight.”

  She then ordered Ostovary to take Mosayeb with him to the town center and buy all the building material necessary for the renovation.

  “But madam,” Ostovary objected, “it is past six in the evening and everything is closed.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she told him. “After all, we share a secret and we must help each other.” Ostovary complied with her orders and left with Mosayeb.

  “You just stay here close to me,” she told Zarrinkolah.

  “By all means, madam,” she replied.

  A couple of minutes after the men had left there was a knock on the garden gate. Farrokhlaqa opened the gate to find two women in soiled chadors, looking very exhausted and disheveled.

  “What do you want?” asked Farrokhlaqa.

  One of the pair burst out crying. The other, who looked older, waited for her companion to get over her emotional outburst.

  “I am asking you,” said Farrokhlaqa impatiently, “What do you want?”

  “First of all, greetings, dear madam,” the older woman began to speak. “My name is Munis and this is my friend Fa’iza. We have come a long way from Tehran and are very tired. And we have had some dreadful experiences along the way. If you permit us to stay here tonight, we will get back on the road tomorrow and follow our fate.”

  “Ladies,” Farrokhlaqa said, “I am myself a new arrival here. I have no furniture. But I find it strange that two ladies like you should find yourselves stranded in this wilderness. You look like you are from respectable families. Why are you traveling unaccompanied?”

  “It is a long story,” Munis said. “The fact is that we decided to break out of the bondage of familial conventions and travel, to go on pilgrimages, explore the world. Unfortunately the first place we chose was Karadj, and a catastrophe happened.”

  Farrokhlaqa was intrigued. “Please, come in,” she offered. “I expect some furniture tonight. Come on in and tell me what happened.”

  The new arrivals stepped into the garden and the group settled on the bedstead by the pool.

  “Young lady,” Farrokhlaqa addressed Fa’iza, who was still sobbing, “stop crying. It’s not good for your health.”

  “On the contrary,” interrupted Zarrinkolah. “Believe me, madam, I cried for twelve hours yesterday. This is not how my eyes look normally; they are big and brown. They are swollen because I cried so much. But that made me feel much better. Let her cry.”

  Farrokhlaqa patiently tolerated Zarrinkolah’s interjection, but turned to Fa’iza again. “Now, miss, tell us what happened. Say something” she demanded.

  Fa’iza was still crying, unable to speak.

  “Dear madam,” Munis added, “let me tell you that I had gotten it into my head to travel to India and the Orient in order to learn things for myself and not be told by others what to believe and what not to believe. I did not want to waste my life ignorant of transcendental truth. Of course, they say, ignorance is bliss, but I had decided to walk the path of enlightenment even if it meant suffering hardships. Naturally, when you embark on a journey you run risks. You either have the substance to overcome hardships or not. If you don’t, you return to the flock like a poor little lamb. Even so, because you have taken the risk of stepping out, others think of you as mangy. You’re avoided, ostracized. Again, you can either tolerate the situation or you can’t, and you go kill yourself.”

  Munis stopped briefly and looked over her fascinated audience. “There is a lot to be said along these lines,” she continued. “It so happened that this old friend became my traveling companion. I was afraid to leave her behind because she was likely to hurt herself—or hurt some other poor bastard more helpless than herself. I don’t know why I thought the only exit out of Tehran was through Karadj. Can you imagine that? Now I realize there are other ways out of Tehran. You can leave through the airport, Shahr Rey, Niavaran, etc. But I only thought of Karadj. We were walking along the road when a truck pulled over. The drivers got out and raped us.

  “Of course in all of this I see a mystery. I feel there was a force that wanted to confront me with a sample of the troubles I was to face in my journey. My poor friend here had the bad luck to be in my company. I now think with this bitter experience, I have taken the first step to discover a new jurisdiction, a new set of laws. As we were walking along I was thinking about how many people had to drown so that the first human could learn to swim. Even so, there are still those who drown. In any case, these thoughts are no consolation for my poor friend here.”

  Fa’iza managed to bring her sobbing under control enough to cut into Munis’s monologue. “Madam,” she addressed Farrokhlaqa, “but I was a virgin. At some point I want to get married. How can I deal with the dishonor of losing my vi
rginity? How can I live down the disgrace?”

  “But, my dear girl,” said Munis, “I was a virgin, too. To hell with it. So what if we are not virgins anymore? Who cares?”

  “But you are thirty-eight years old,” returned Fa’iza. “Virginity is of no use to you anymore. I am only twenty-eight and still have a chance for a husband.”

  Farrokhlaqa was shocked. She thought the woman was very rude and insensitive to bring up her friend’s age in that way. However, before she could make any comment, Munis turned to her and said, “No, Madam Farrokhlaqa, she is not rude. She knows I read minds. It is that simple. I know what goes on in her mind. So she’s learned to be frank with me.”

  “Besides,” Fa’iza continued, “you can change the shape of your face and the pupils of your eyes. Why didn’t you punish them for what they did to us?”

  “Sweetheart,” Munis said, “I can only read minds. Besides, I did want to punish them. But I didn’t have to; they brought disaster upon themselves.”

  “How?” asked Farrokhlaqa.

  “A couple of miles down the road they had a wreck. I didn’t have to lift a finger.”

  “That’s not true,” Fa’iza objected. “We saw no wrecks on the road.”

  “My dear,” said Munis, “we took a detour through the hills to avoid running into more rapists. But I know the truck crashed.”

  “How do you know?” asked Farrokhlaqa, her curiosity piqued.

  “I just know. I read minds.”

  “Can you really read minds?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. For instance, Your Ladyship, you want to become a member of the parliament. That poor girl over there was a prostitute until yesterday. I just know these things.”

  “Do you want to stay here?” Farrokhlaqa asked with anticipation.

  “Of course,” Munis answered. “Unfortunately it is still not a time for a woman to travel by herself. She must either become invisible, or stay cooped up in a house. My problem is that I can no longer remain housebound, but I have to, because I am a woman. Perhaps I can make a little progress at a time. But then I will have to be stuck in a house for a while. Maybe this is the only way I can see the world, at a snail’s pace. That is why I gratefully accept your invitation.”

  Farrokhlaqa was overjoyed. “Ladies,” she addressed the group, “I want to make additions to the villa. There is the gardener who can also do construction work. He is the only male we’re going to keep around. We’ll start work as soon as possible.”

  “That’s a great idea,” declared Munis. “I knew this earlier. I predict success.”

  Turning to Fa’iza, who was still sobbing, Farrokhlaqa said consolingly, “Don’t worry. It is possible to live without virginity. I have lived without it for thirty-three years.”

  “What will happen to my reputation?” Fa’iza answered dejectedly. “How can I justify it to my husband on wedding night?”

  “If it comes to that,” Munis said, “I will do something so your husband won’t find out. You know me; I’m the one that changes the shape of my face.”

  “So why didn’t you do something to prevent the assault by those monsters from the truck?” Fa’iza asked with an accusatory tone.

  “My dear,” Munis said, with her temper rising. “I have died and come back to life twice. I see things in a different way. God knows I would fly if I had wings. But my spirit is still earthbound. Believe me, virginity will be of no consequence. Should you find a husband, I’ll arrange it so that you will live in conjugal bliss ever after.”

  Fa’iza calmed down and turned quiet. Waiting for furniture and building supplies to arrive, the women shared their life stories with one another.

  Farrokhlaqa’s Garden

  Part Two

  BY SPRING THE GARDEN HAD TURNED into a flower grove. The gardener was right; he did have a green thumb. All he did was touch a bush and it blossomed into a hundred flowers the following week.

  They renovated the house together. Farrokhlaqa did not engage in the work per se, but she constantly moved around giving orders and checking details. It took the autumn months to complete the work. The gardener had the women do different building chores: Zarrinkolah would prepare the mortar; Munis would take it to the building; Fa’iza would carry bricks in a wheelbarrow, while the gardener did the actual construction work. At the end of the autumn the house had six rooms, three showers, and three bathrooms.

  On sunny days Farrokhlaqa would rest by the pool and survey with satisfaction the work in progress. Sometimes she would have Zarrinkolah accompany her on her shopping trips to the city. She had a sense of accomplishment in the fact that the project was progressing according to her plans.

  When the remodeling work was completed at the end of the autumn, Farrokhlaqa assigned one room to Fa’iza and Munis, who by now had become her primary companions and counselors. Fa’iza tended the kitchen and Munis the other household affairs. She herself took over furnishing and decorating the house. The gardener asked for and received permission to build a small lodge for himself at the far end of the property near the river. He also asked that Zarrinkolah be allowed to assist him in the endeavor.

  In due course the gardener built the lodge on the riverbank directly facing the Mahdokht tree—which still had not sprouted limbs and leaves. The barrenness had caused Farrokhlaqa some concern, but the gardener had assured her that it would be full of blooms by the spring. He had also suggested that the human-tree is not like other trees; it needs human breast milk to achieve maturity and growth. Farrokhlaqa was stumped by the suggestion, not being able to think of a source for human breast milk.

  “Don’t worry,” the gardener said, “I am going to marry Zarrinkolah. She will lactate when she bears a child. We will fertilize the tree with her milk.”

  Fa’iza proposed inviting a cleric to solemnize the marriage. The gardener did not agree; he would perform the ceremony himself without the benefit of the clergy. To Fa’iza, such a marriage was not legitimate. Munis stayed out of the discussion and made no references to her own mind-reading ability. Farrokhlaqa was neutral. She did not care one way or other, as long as there was breast milk to feed the tree, as the gardener had promised.

  Zarrinkolah spent most of her time alongside the gardener helping him in his work. He had taught her bricklaying, tree planting, landscaping, cooking, and embroidery. She was always humming as she moved from place to place on the property, something that annoyed Fa’iza, who held Zarrinkolah in low esteem for lax morals and incessant jollity, as if she had to laugh to prove she was alive. Fa’iza had little tolerance for people like that, although she did not let that interfere with her general satisfaction with her current situation. Occasionally she felt a tinge of sadness when she thought of Amir Khan. Deep down she nursed a longing to be married to him, not so much out of love for him but a desire for vindication. To have him as a husband would vindicate her womanhood.

  Farrokhlaqa persisted in her plans to become a member of the parliament. Impatiently, she waited for the completion of the building renovations so she could start entertaining celebrities and influential people to cultivate associations with them. In consultations with Munis she had arrived at the conclusion that to have name recognition she had to write poetry and publish it in newspapers and magazines. She was intrigued by the idea and spent much of her time trying to write poems.

  At the onset of winter, the house was ready to be fully occupied by the women. Farrokhlaqa furnished the parlor as a music-cum-party room, equipped with comfortable furniture, chandeliers, and bookshelves displaying dozens of poetry anthologies that she had ordered from a book-store. She bought large candlesticks displaying designs of moths as if they were burned by the flame of the candles, giving poignancy to the timeless metaphor. She also stocked the cellar with various vintages of wines and liquors to ensure an inexhaustible supply for the parties.

  Then came the task of developing guest lists and sending invitations. Guests were welcome to arrive Friday mornings and stay well into the early hours of
the next day. Lambs were slaughtered and carefully dressed on the premises every Friday morning by the local butcher and sent to the kitchen to be prepared into elaborate dishes overseen by Munis and Fa’iza. Zarrinkolah tended to the lesser details of the process. Soon the word of Farrokhlaqa’s hospitality spread among her friends and new acquaintances who would arrive at the villa in large numbers on Fridays. She did not mention a word about the tree to the guests, under orders from the gardener, who wanted to wait for it to be in full bloom later in the year.

  Zarrinkolah stopped coming to the house. She spent all her time at the lodge. When Munis brought it up with the gardener, he said that every dawn both of them looked for dewdrops on vegetation to irrigate the tree. Since Zarrinkolah did not have a baby yet, she could not provide breast milk.

  Munis was not able to penetrate the gardener’s mind to know his thoughts. She simply asked to join him and his wife in their search for dewdrops. The gardener agreed and the three of them spent the morning hours collecting dewdrops with which the gardener irrigated the tree according to his secret process.

  By early April the tree was covered with blooms. It accompanied the chirping birds by singing a haunting song. Farrokhlaqa could not wait to show it off to her guests, but the gardener still would not permit it. “It is not the right time for it yet,” he would say gravely. In fact Farrokhlaqa herself was discouraged from visiting the tree. She resented the restriction, although she kept it to herself, afraid of alienating the gardener whom she desperately needed. Besides, she was too busy trying to write poetry, since the Friday morning guests now included a coterie of reporters, poets, painters, novelists, and photographers and she felt the need to produce something to break into their circle. During the hours of leisure Munis would give her comfort and encouragement in her effort to write poetry. Fa’iza was pessimistic about the prospects, but, afraid that Munis would read her mind, she did not think much about it. Sometimes, when she was far enough away from Munis and confidant that distance would insulate her mind against Munis’s intrusions, she thought of the enterprise as stupid and blamed the round-faced Munis for creating the delusion in Farrokhlaqa that she could become a poet. Fa’iza recognized that Munis had certain abilities, including reading minds and elongating her face, yet she was born with a round face, therefore she could not escape her simple-mindedness and low-grade intelligence.