The Book of Fate

by Parinoush Saniee

  The next morning I somehow managed to drag myself out of bed. There was no one I could turn to for help but I couldn’t sit idly by and watch my child be destroyed. My life was like reruns on television, except that each time the events were slightly different and each time I could bear it less. I got dressed. Massoud had fallen asleep on the sofa fully dressed. I gently woke him up and said, ‘I don’t want you to go to school today. Wait here until Mrs Parvin comes and give Shirin to her. And call your Aunt Faati and tell her what has happened.’

  Still groggy, he said, ‘Where are you going this early? What time is it?’

  ‘It’s five o’clock. I’m going to Mahmoud’s house to see him before he leaves for work.’

  ‘No, Mum! Don’t go there.’

  ‘I have no choice. My child’s life is in danger and Mahmoud knows a lot of people. No matter how, I have to make him take me to Ehteram-Sadat’s uncle.’

  ‘No, Mum. For the love of God, don’t go there. He won’t help you. Have you forgotten?’

  ‘No, my dear, I haven’t forgotten. But this time it’s different. Hamid was a stranger to him, but Siamak is his blood, his nephew.’

  ‘Mum, you don’t know.’

  ‘Know what? What don’t I know?’

  ‘I didn’t want to tell you, but yesterday afternoon I saw one of those Revolutionary Guards at the corner.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘He wasn’t alone. He was talking with Uncle Mahmoud and they were looking at our house.’

  I felt the world spinning around me. Had Mahmoud betrayed Siamak? His own nephew? It was impossible. I ran out of the house. I don’t know how I drove to Mahmoud’s house. I pounded on the door like a madwoman. Gholam-Hossein and Mahmoud opened the door in a panic. Gholam-Ali had enlisted in the army and had been at the front for some time. Mahmoud was still wearing house clothes.

  ‘You, you scoundrel, brought the Revolutionary Guards to my home?’ I screamed. ‘You brought agents to arrest my son?’

  He looked at me coldly. I was waiting for him to deny it, to get angry, to be insulted by my accusation. But with that same coldness he said, ‘Well, your son is a Mujahed, isn’t he?’

  ‘No! My son is too young to pick sides. He has never been a member of any organisation.’

  ‘That’s what you think, sister… you’ve stuck your head in the snow. I myself saw him selling newspapers on the street.’

  ‘That’s it? You sent him to prison for that?’

  ‘It was my religious responsibility,’ he said. ‘Don’t you know what treason and murders they are committing? I am not going to trade my faith and the afterlife for your son. I would have done the same if he was my own son.’

  ‘But Siamak is innocent. He isn’t a member of the Mujahedin!’

  ‘That is none of my business. It was my duty to inform the authorities. The rest is up to the Islamic Court of Justice. If he is innocent, they will release him.’

  ‘Just like that? What if they make a mistake? What if my child perishes for a mistake? Could you live with that on your conscience?’

  ‘Why would that be any of my concern? If they make a mistake, they are to blame. Even then, it won’t be too bad. He will be considered a martyr, he will go to heaven and his spirit will forever be grateful to me for having saved him from a fate like his father’s. These people are traitors to our country and religion.’

  The only thing keeping me on my feet was rage.

  ‘No one is as big a traitor to his religion and country as you are,’ I screamed. ‘The likes of you are destroying Islam. When did the Ayatollah ever give such fatwas? You would do any dirty deed for your own gain and chalk it up to faith and religion.’

  I spat on his face and walked out. I had a splitting headache. Twice I pulled over to the kerb and vomited bitter bile. I went to Mother’s house. Ali was about to leave for work. I grabbed his arms and begged him to help me, to find an acquaintance who had some influence, to ask his father-in-law for help. He shook his head and said, ‘Sister, I swear I am devastated. Siamak grew up in my arms. I loved him…’

  ‘Loved?’ I shouted. ‘You talk as if he is already dead!’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant. All I want to say is that no one will do anything, no one can do anything. Now that he has been labelled as a Mujahed, everyone will turn aside. It’s because those miscreants have killed so many people. Do you understand?’

  I went to Mother’s room, dropped down on the floor and beat my head against the wall, moaning, ‘Here you are, these are your beloved sons, ready to kill their nephew, a seventeen-year-old boy. And you tell me not to take things to heart, that we are all of the same blood.’

  Just then Faati arrived with Sadegh Agha and their baby. They picked me up off the floor and helped me go back home. Faati couldn’t stop crying and Sadegh Agha was gnawing at his moustache.

  ‘To be honest, I am worried for Sadegh,’ Faati whispered. ‘What if they accuse him of being a Mujahed, too? He has got into a few political arguments with Mahmoud and Ali.’

  Tears were streaming down my face.

  ‘Sadegh Agha, let’s go to Evin,’ I begged. ‘Perhaps they will give us some information.’

  We went to Evin Prison, but it was a wasted effort. I asked for Ezatollah Haj-Hosseini, but I was told he would not be in that day. Dazed and confused, we returned home. Faati and Mrs Parvin tried to force me to eat something, but I couldn’t. I kept thinking, What will Siamak have to eat? I wept and wondered what I should do and whom I should turn to.

  Faati suddenly said, ‘Mahboubeh!’

  ‘Mahboubeh?!’

  ‘Yes! Our cousin Mahboubeh. Her father-in-law is a cleric. They say he is an important man and Auntie used to say he is very decent and kind.’

  ‘Yes, you are right!’

  I was like a drowning woman grabbing driftwood, a glimmer of hope in my heart. I got up.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Faati asked.

  ‘I have to go to Qum.’

  ‘Wait. Sadegh and I will go with you. We will go together, tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow will be too late! I will go by myself.’

  ‘You can’t!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Why can’t I? I know where my aunt’s house is. Her address hasn’t changed, has it?’

  ‘No, but you can’t go alone.’

  Massoud started getting dressed and said, ‘She won’t be alone. I will go with her.’

  ‘But you have school… and you didn’t go today.’

  ‘Who cares about school under these circumstances? I won’t let you go alone and that’s that. Now I am the man of the house.’

  Leaving Shirin with Mrs Parvin, we left. Massoud took care of me as he would a child. On the bus, he tried to sit up straight so that I could rest my head on his shoulder and sleep. He made me eat a few biscuits and forced me to drink water. When we arrived, he pulled me along and found a taxi. It was dark by the time we reached my aunt’s house.

  Stunned to see us there and at that hour, my aunt stared at my face and said, ‘May God have mercy! What has happened?’

  I burst into tears and said, ‘Aunt, help me. I am about to lose my son, too.’

  Half an hour later, my cousin Mahboubeh and her husband Mohsen arrived. Mahboubeh was still a cheerful woman, just a little plumper and more mature looking. Her husband was a handsome man and seemed to be intelligent and caring. Their love and affection for each other was apparent. I wept uncontrollably and explained everything that had happened. Mahboubeh’s husband comforted me and spoke reassuringly.

  ‘It is impossible that they would arrest him based on such weak evidence,’ he said. And he promised to take me to see his father the next day and to help in any way he could. Eventually, I calmed down a little. My aunt forced me to eat a light dinner, Mahboubeh gave me a sedative, and after twenty-four hours I went into a deep and bitter sleep.

  Mahboubeh’s father-in-law was an endearing and compassionate man. He was touched by my grief and tried to comfort me. He made
a few calls, wrote down several names and a few notes, which he gave to Mohsen, and asked him to accompany me back to Tehran. On the way, I ceaselessly prayed and pleaded with God. As soon as we arrived home, Mohsen started contacting different people until he finally managed to arrange a meeting at Evin Prison for the following day.

  At Evin, the warden exchanged pleasantries with Mohsen and then said, ‘It is certain that he is a Mujahedin sympathiser, but to date they have found no reliable and binding evidence against him. We will release him as soon as the usual legal procedures are complete.’ And he asked Mohsen to extend his greetings to his father.

  The warden’s words kept me on my feet for ten months. Ten dark and painful months. Every night I dreamed that they had tied Siamak’s legs and were flogging the soles of his feet. His flesh was sticking to the whip and shredding off. And every night I woke up screaming.

  I think it was a week after Siamak’s arrest when one day I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I looked old, wretched, thin and sallow. Strangest of all was the cluster of white hair that had suddenly appeared on the right side of my head. After Hamid’s execution, I had started to see a few strands of white in my hair, but this was new.

  I was constantly in touch with Mahboubeh and, through her, with her husband and father-in-law. I went to a meeting at Evin Prison that had been arranged for the parents of inmates. I asked about Siamak. The prison official knew him well and said, ‘There is no need to worry, he will be released.’

  I was overjoyed, but then I remembered what one of the mothers at the meeting had said. ‘When they say, “He will be released,” they mean released from life.’

  Horror and hope were killing me. I tried to work as much as I could just to have less time to think.

  Reports of universities reopening became reality. I went to register for the few credits I still had to complete so that I could finally reach the goal for which I had worked so hard. With a frown on his face and with the utmost cool, the administrator said, ‘You are not eligible to register.’

  ‘But I have been attending the university!’ I said. ‘I just need these few credits to get my degree. Actually, I have already taken the courses; I just have to take the final exams.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You have been subject to eradication and dismissal.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ he said with a sneer. ‘You are the widow of a communist who was executed and the mother of a traitor and dissenter.’

  ‘And I am proud of both of them,’ I retorted angrily.

  ‘You can be as proud as you want, but you cannot attend classes and receive a degree from this Islamic university.’

  ‘Do you know how hard I have worked for this degree? If the universities hadn’t been closed I would have received my degree several years ago.’

  He shrugged.

  I spoke with several other administrators, but it was useless. Defeated, I walked out of the university. All my efforts lay in waste.

  The gentle sun of late February was shining. The winter’s biting cold had gone and the cool scent of spring was wafting in the air. Sadegh Khan had taken my car to the garage to be repaired. I walked to work. I was terribly depressed and tried to keep myself busy. Around two in the afternoon, Faati called and said, ‘Come here after work. Sadegh has picked up the car from the garage and will fetch the kids…’

  ‘I’m not in the mood,’ I said. ‘I’ll just go home.’

  ‘No, you have to come,’ Faati insisted. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘No. Mahboubeh called; they are in Tehran. I asked them to come here. They may have some news.’

  When I hung up, I wondered. Faati had sounded different. I started to worry. A last-minute project landed on my desk and I went back to work, but I couldn’t concentrate. I called home and told Mrs Parvin, ‘Get Shirin ready. Sadegh Agha will come to pick her up.’

  She laughed and said, ‘He is already here. He was waiting for Massoud who just walked in. They are going to Faati’s house. When are you going?’

  ‘As soon as I finish work,’ I said. And then I added, ‘Tell me the truth, has something happened?’

  ‘I don’t know! If something had happened, Sadegh Agha would have told me. My dear, don’t worry so much over nothing. You are wasting away.’

  As soon as I handed in my assignment, I left the office and took a taxi to Faati’s house. She opened the door. I looked at her probingly.

  ‘Hello, sister,’ she said. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘Tell me the truth, Faati. What has happened?’

  ‘What? Does something have to happen for you to visit us?’

  Firouzeh half ran, half danced over and leaped into my arms. Shirin came running, too. I looked at Massoud. He was standing there looking calm and pensive. I walked in and quietly asked him, ‘What is going on?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We just got here. They are acting strange; constantly whispering to each other.’

  ‘Faati!’ I screamed. ‘What has happened? Tell me. I am losing my mind!’

  ‘For the love of God, stay calm,’ she said. ‘Whatever it is, it is good news.’

  ‘Is it about Siamak?’

  ‘Yes, I have heard they are going to release him before the new year.’

  ‘Perhaps even sooner,’ Sadegh Agha added.

  ‘Who said this? Where did you hear it?’

  ‘Calm down,’ Faati said. ‘Sit and I will bring some tea.’

  Massoud grabbed hold of my hand. Sadegh Agha was laughing and playing with the children.

  ‘Sadegh Agha, for the love of God, tell me exactly what you know.’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know much. Faati knows more than I do.’

  ‘Who did she hear it from? From Mahboubeh?’

  ‘Yes, I think she spoke with Mahboubeh.’

  Faati walked in with the tea tray and Firouzeh skipped over with a plate of pastries.

  ‘Faati, for the love of your children, sit down and tell me exactly what Mahboubeh said.’

  ‘She said, it’s all done, Siamak will be released very soon.’

  ‘Like when?’ I asked.

  ‘Perhaps this week.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I exclaimed. ‘Is it really possible?’

  I leaned back on the sofa. Faati was well prepared. She quickly handed me a bottle of nitroglycerine drops and a glass of water. I took the medication and waited until I felt calmer. Then I stood up to leave.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Faati asked.

  ‘I have to go tidy up his room. If my son is coming home tomorrow, everything has to be neat and ready. There are a thousand things I have to do.’

  ‘Sit down,’ she said quietly. ‘Why can’t you ever sit still? To be honest, Mahboubeh said he might be coming home tonight.’

  I fell back on the sofa. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Mahboubeh and Mohsen have gone to Evin, just in case they release him today. You have to control your nerves. They may show up any minute. You must stay calm.’

  Restless and impatient, every few minutes I asked, ‘What happened? When are they going to get here?’

  And then I heard Massoud shout, ‘Siamak!’ And I saw my son walk in.

  My heart couldn’t take all that joy and excitement. I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. I clutched Siamak in my arms. He was thinner and taller than before. I was short of breath. Someone splashed water on my face. Again, I held my son. I touched his face, his eyes, his hands. Was it really my darling Siamak?

  Massoud hugged Siamak and cried for an hour. How had this kind and gentle boy, who had bravely shouldered the responsibilities of life and given me hope, kept all those tears inside him for so long?

  Laughing and excited by the commotion, Shirin, who was at first a bit reticent, leaped into Siamak’s arms.

  The night passed with indescribable joy, exhilaration and delirium.

  ‘I have
to see your feet,’ I said.

  ‘Come on, Mum.’ Siamak laughed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  The first person I called was Mahboubeh’s father-in-law. I cried and thanked him and showered him with every term of endearment.