‘No, Mum, please don’t say that,’ Massoud said. ‘You are our pride and honour. To me, you are still the most precious person on the face of the earth and to my dying day I will be your slave and do whatever you need or want. I swear, the only reason I haven’t come to see you in a few days is because I have been so terribly busy, but all my thoughts are with you.’
‘That is exactly what I mean!’ I said. ‘You are a married man and a father and you have a mountain of problems and responsibilities, so why should all your thoughts be with your mother? All three of you have to think about your own lives. I don’t want to be a cause for worry, an obligation, or a burden. I want you to see that I am not alone, that I am happy and that you don’t need to worry about me.’
‘There is no need for that,’ Massoud argued. ‘We will not leave you alone. With love and respect, we want to be at your service and will try to make up for a tiny bit of all that you have done for us.’
‘My dear, I don’t want that! You don’t owe me anything. I just want to live the rest of my life with someone who can give me the peace and tranquillity I have always dreamed of. Is that a lot to ask for?’
‘Mother, I am surprised at you. Why can’t you understand how dreadful a plight this will be for us?’
‘A dreadful plight? Would I be doing something immoral and ungodly?’
‘Mother, it would be against tradition, which is just as bad. News of this is going to explode like a bomb. Do you realise what a scandal and embarrassment it would be for us? What would my friends, colleagues and employees say? Even worse, will I ever again be able to hold my head up in front of Atefeh’s family?’ Then he quickly turned to his sister and said, ‘Shirin, make sure you never mention any of this in front of Atefeh.’
‘And what will happen if she finds out?’ I asked.
‘What will happen? She will lose all the respect she has for you. The idol I have made of you for her will shatter. She will tell her parents and everyone at the ministry will find out.’
‘So what?’
‘Do you know what they will say behind my back?’
‘No, what will they say?’
‘They will say, “At his age, Mr Manager has a new stepfather. Last night, he put his mother’s hand in the hands of some good-for-nothing jerk.” How could I ever live with the shame?’
There was a lump in my throat. I couldn’t talk any more; I couldn’t stand them talking like that about my pure and beautiful love. My head was throbbing. I went inside, took a couple of painkillers and sat in the dark on the sofa, leaning my head back.
Shirin and Massoud talked for a while longer out on the balcony. Massoud wanted to leave and they came back inside. While seeing him off, Shirin said, ‘It’s all Aunt Parvaneh’s fault. She is just clueless. Poor Mum would never even think of such a thing. She talked Mum into it.’
‘I never liked Aunt Parvaneh,’ Massoud said. ‘I always found her to be vulgar. She never observes decorum. That night at our house, she tried to shake hands with Mr Maghsoudi! The poor man was so flustered and upset. You can be sure if Aunt Parvaneh was in Mum’s place she would have remarried a hundred times by now.’
I got up, turned on a small lamp and said, ‘This has nothing to do with Parvaneh. Every human being has the right to decide how to live his or her life.’
‘Yes, Mum, you have that right,’ Massoud said. ‘But would you want to exercise it at the cost of your children’s honour and reputation?’
‘I have a headache and I want to go to bed,’ I said. ‘And I think you are late. It is best that you go see to your wife and child.’
Despite the sedatives I took, I spent the night restless and agitated. Conflicting thoughts flung me back and forth. On the one hand, the knowledge that I would be hurting my children made me feel guilty. Massoud’s tired and troubled face and Shirin’s tears would not let me go. On the other hand, the fantasy of freedom beckoned to me. Oh how I needed for once in my life to unchain myself from all responsibility and to fly free in this big world. My heart’s desire, the love I felt for Saiid, and my fear of losing him again were crushing my heart.
Morning came, but I didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. The telephone rang several times. Shirin answered, but the caller hung up. I knew it was Saiid. He was worried, but he didn’t want to talk to Shirin. Again the telephone rang; this time Shirin said a cold hello and then rudely barked, ‘Mum, it’s Mrs Parvaneh, pick up.’
I picked up the telephone.
‘So now I am Mrs Parvaneh!’ she said. ‘Shirin almost swore at me!’
‘I am so sorry. Don’t take it to heart.’
‘Oh, I don’t care,’ Parvaneh said. ‘But tell me, how are you?’
‘Awful. This headache just won’t go away.’
‘Does Massoud know, too? Is he taking it as badly as Shirin?’
‘Much worse.’
‘What selfish kids! The only thing they don’t care about is your happiness. They just don’t understand… It’s your own fault for always sacrificing yourself and giving in to them. They’ve become so impudent they can’t even imagine that you have rights, too. Well, what are you going to do now?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘For now, let me pull myself together a little.’
‘Poor Saiid is half dead with worry. He says he hasn’t heard from you in two days. Every time he calls, Shirin answers the telephone. He doesn’t know what the situation is and whether he should talk to her or keep his distance for now.’
‘Tell him not to call. I will call him myself later on.’
‘Do you want the three of us to go for a walk in the park later this afternoon?’ Parvaneh asked.
‘No, I’m not in the mood.’
‘I’m here for only a few more days and Saiid is leaving soon, too.’
‘I can’t, I really don’t feel well,’ I said. ‘I can barely stand. Tell him I said hello. I’ll call you later.’
Shirin was leaning against the door, looking furious, and listening to my conversation. I hung up and said, ‘Do you want something?’
‘No…’
‘Then why are you standing there like hell’s doorman?’
‘Wasn’t Mrs Parvaneh supposed to run along and leave? Isn’t she clearing out of here?’
‘Watch your mouth!’ I snapped. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, talking like that about your aunt.’
‘What aunt? I have only one aunt, Aunt Faati.’
‘Enough! If you talk about Parvaneh like this one more time, you’ll have it coming! Do you understand?’
‘My apologies!’ Shirin said sarcastically. ‘I didn’t know Mrs Parvaneh enjoyed such a lofty position in your eyes.’
‘Yes, she does. Now, leave. I want to sleep.’
It was around noon when Siamak called. It was strange. He never called at that hour. Shirin and Massoud must have been in such a hurry to give him the news that they hadn’t even waited for him to get home from work. After an icy hello he said, ‘What is all this I hear from the kids?’
‘All what?’ I asked.
‘That you want to get hitched.’
Hearing my own son speak to me in that tone was excruciating. Still, I firmly said, ‘Is there a problem with that?’
‘Of course, there is a problem. After a husband like my father, how can you even speak another man’s name? You are being unfaithful to his memory. Unlike Massoud and Shirin, I will neither lose my honour nor do I find it strange that a woman your age would want to get married. But I cannot stand by and allow the memory of my martyred father to be mired in muck. All his followers look to us to preserve his memory, and you want to bring some tramp to sit in his place?’
‘Do you hear yourself, Siamak? Which followers? You talk as if your father was a prophet! Not one in a million Iranians has ever even heard of your father. Why do you always boast and exaggerate? I know the people around you encourage you and, being simple and gullible, you enjoy playing the role of a hero’s son. But, my dear, open your ey
es. People love creating heroes. They make someone big so that they can hide behind him, so that he will speak for them, so that in case of danger he will be their shield, suffer their punishments and give them time to escape. And that is exactly what they did with your father. They put him at the head of the line and cheered him on, but when he ended up in prison, they all ran away, and when he was killed, they denied having ever had anything to do with him. And afterwards, they only criticised him and listed his mistakes. And what did all your father’s heroisms bring us? Who knocked on our door to ask how the family of their hero was faring in life? The most daring and fearless among them barely mumbled a hello if they ran into us on the street.
‘No, my son, you don’t need a hero. I could understand your obsession while you were a boy, but now you are a grown man and you neither need to be a hero, nor do you need to follow one. Stand on your own two feet and rely on your own intelligence and knowledge to choose the leaders you want to support, and the instant you think they are heading in the wrong direction, take back your vote. You should not follow any person or ideology that asks you to blindly accept everything. You don’t need myths. Let your children see you as a man with a solid character who will protect them, not as someone who still needs to be protected.’
‘Ugh!… Mum, you never understood the magnitude of Father’s greatness and the importance of his struggle.’
Every time he wanted to make a giant of Hamid, Dad would become Father; as if the word dad was too small for that titan.
‘And you never understood the misery I suffered because of him,’ I said. ‘Son, open your eyes. Be a realist. Your father was a good man, but at least when it came to his family he had weaknesses and failings, too. No human being is perfect.’
‘Whatever my father did, he did it for the people,’ Siamak argued. ‘He wanted to create a socialist country where there would be equality, justice and freedom.’
‘Yes, and I saw how the country he looked to, the Soviet Union, was ripped apart after only seventy years. Its people were ill for the lack of freedom. The day that country was dissolved, I cried for days, and for months I asked myself what exactly did your father die for? You never saw the citizens of that superpower’s southern republics who came to Iran desperately looking for work; you never saw how bedraggled, confused and ignorant they were. Was that the Medina he gave his life for? I am happy he never lived to see what became of the mainspring of his hopes.’
‘Mother, what do you know about politics and political issues? And besides, I didn’t call to argue with you about this. The problem is you and what it is you are planning to do. I really cannot bear to see anyone take my father’s place. That’s all.’
And he hung up.
Arguing with Siamak was useless. His problem was not me, his problem was his father, and I had to be sacrificed before that idol.
Late that afternoon, Massoud, Atefeh and their adorable son who always reminded me of Massoud’s childhood came to the apartment. I took my grandson from Atefeh and said, ‘My dear Atefeh, welcome. I haven’t seen this fair-haired boy in a while.’
‘It’s all Massoud’s fault,’ she said. ‘He is so busy at work. Today, he cancelled a meeting and came home early. He said he wanted to come visit you because you were not feeling well. I hadn’t seen you for a while and I was bored at home, so I forced him to let me come, too.’
‘You did well. I missed you and this little boy.’
‘I’m sorry you haven’t been well,’ Atefeh said. ‘What is wrong?’
‘Nothing really,’ I said. ‘I just had an awful headache, but these kids make it sound so much worse. I certainly didn’t want to cause you any trouble.’
Massoud said, ‘Please, Mum, it is no trouble at all. It is our duty. You have to forgive me for having been so busy lately that I have neglected you and not taken care of you.’
‘I am not a child for you to take care of me,’ I said dryly. ‘I am still on my feet and you have your own wife and child to take care of. I don’t want you to leave work and come here just to perform your duty. It makes me even more uncomfortable.’
With a quizzical look on her face, Atefeh picked up her son who had started crying and went to change him. I got up and went to the kitchen, my usual refuge. I busied myself washing some fruit, giving Shirin time to comfortably update Massoud on the latest news so that they could plan their next move. Atefeh quickly returned to the living room and was desperately trying to figure out what their cryptic and hushed conversation was about. Finally, as if she had overheard enough, she said out loud, ‘Who? Who is getting married?’
Flustered, Massoud snapped, ‘No one!’
And Shirin rushed to his rescue and said, ‘Just one of Mum’s old friends whose husband passed away a few years ago. Now, in spite of having sons- and daughters-in-law and grandchildren, she has got it into her head to get married.’
‘What?’ Atefeh exclaimed. ‘I can’t believe some women! Why doesn’t someone tell them that at their age they should be thinking about doing good deeds and properly observing their prayers and fasts. They should be turning to God and thinking about their hereafter. And here they are, still preoccupied with their whims and fancies… unbelievable!’
I was standing there holding the fruit bowl, listening to Atefeh’s eloquent sermon. Massoud looked at Shirin and avoided my eyes. I put the fruit bowl on the table and I said, ‘Why don’t you just tell the woman to buy a grave and lie down in it?’
‘What sort of comment is that, Mum?’ Massoud chided. ‘A spiritual life is far more rewarding than a material life. At a certain age, one should strive to experience this sort of life, too.’
My children’s attitude to my age and to women my age made me realise why women never like to reveal how old they are and keep their age to themselves like a sealed secret.
The next day, I was getting ready to go to Parvaneh’s house when Shirin walked into my room all dressed and ready and said, ‘I am coming, too.’
‘No. There is no need.’
‘You don’t want me to go with you?’
‘No! As far back as I remember, I always had a guard. And I hate having a guard. I suggest you all stop behaving this way; otherwise, I will head for the mountains and deserts where none of you will ever find me.’
While Parvaneh packed her suitcases, I told her everything that had happened.
‘It is unbelievable how our kids want to quickly send us off to the other world,’ she said. ‘I am surprised at Siamak. Why can’t he understand? What a fate you have had!’
‘Mother used to say, “Everyone’s fate has been predetermined, it has been set aside for them, and even if the sky comes down to earth it will not change.” I often ask myself, What is my share in this life? Did I ever have an independent fate of my own? Or was I always part of the destiny that ruled the lives of the men in my life, all of whom somehow sacrificed me at the altar of their beliefs and objectives? My father and brothers sacrificed me for the sake of their honour, my husband sacrificed me for his ideologies and goals, and I paid the price for my sons’ heroic gestures and patriotic duties.
‘Who was I, after all? The wife of an insurgent and a traitor or the wife of a hero fighting for freedom? The mother of a dissenter or the sacrificing parent of a freedom-loving fighter? How many times did they put me on the highest heights and then hurled me down on my head? And I deserved neither. They did not elevate me because of my own abilities and virtues, nor did they cast me down because of my own mistakes.
‘It is as if I never existed, never had any rights. When did I ever live for myself? When did I ever work for myself? When did I have the right to choose and to decide? When did they ever ask me, “What do you want?”’
‘You have really lost your nerve and confidence,’ Parvaneh said. ‘You never used to complain like this. It’s unlike you. You must stand up to them and live your own life.’
‘You know, I don’t want to. It’s not that I can’t, I can, but there is no pleasure in
it any more. I feel defeated. It is as if nothing has changed in the past thirty years. Despite everything I suffered, I didn’t even manage to change things in my own home. The least I expected of my children was a little compassion and understanding. But even they were not willing to consider me as a human being who has certain rights. I am valuable to them only as a mother who serves them. Remember that old proverb, “No one wants us for ourselves, everyone wants us for themselves.” My happiness and what I want is of no significance to them.
The Book of Fate Page 52
