Zari grasped her husband’s arm. “Please don’t get angry, my dear,” she pleaded. “You can see the boys are perfectly safe and sound. There’s just been a misunderstanding which we’ll soon clear up.”
“They’re treating my children like criminals,” Yusef shouted more angrily than before. “Do you know why they came here …”
Zari knew that if Yusef told the truth, there would be no end to the matter, and none of them would be allowed to leave. “My husband has just returned from a journey,” she interrupted, explaining to the lieutenant, “he’s very tired …”
The lieutenant suddenly noticed the sack Hormoz was holding. “What’s in this sack?” he queried.
“A snake, sir!” Hormoz answered coolly.
“A snake?” the lieutenant exclaimed.
Zari instantly realized that it was probably the snake Haj Mohammad Reza had found in their house. She remembered that the snake’s fangs had been pulled.
“I told you they collect reptiles. This time they found a snake. But it’s probably harmless.”
“Would you like to see it, sir?” Hormoz asked. And he emptied the contents of the sack on the floor.
A brightly-spotted snake crawled out. At first it held its head high, looking straight at the lieutenant’s shoe. Then it flashed its tongue and slithered under the desk. The lieutenant hastily lifted his feet out of the way.
“Kill it!” he cried.
Gholam’s friend went for the snake with his rifle butt, but it escaped.
“Threatening the life of an officer on duty with a snake …!” shouted the lieutenant. But he never finished his sentence. Jumping down from the desk on which he had taken refuge a few seconds ago, he inadvertently stepped on the head of the snake. Meanwhile Gholam’s friend was about to attack the snake again when the lieutenant suddenly stood to attention and did a military salute.
“Good evening, your honour!” he said.
Zari turned to discover Abol-Ghassem Khan in the doorway. “Sister,” he chuckled, “is this where you bring your newly-arrived husband?”
The young lieutenant was stammering in confusion. His foot was still on the snake’s head, while at the other end the tail wriggled grotesquely.
“Your honour,” he said, “I had no idea the gentleman was your honour’s brother. Even though the resemblance of nobility can be detected in every feature … if I have given offence, please forgive me, I apologize …” And turning to Yusef, he bowed and said, “Why did you not inform me, sir?” Indicating the other graded officers he added, “I shall have these bastards thrown in jail.” Giving the man closest at hand a slap across the face, he barked, “Imbecile, you bring the son of the most respected man in town to this sentry post?”
“Forgive them this time,” Abol-Ghassem Khan said with measured coolness and dignity. “My regards to His Excellency, the Governor. It’s too late, otherwise we would have gone to convey our regards in person.”
Yusef, Abol-Ghassem and the boys were climbing back up the hill, joking and chatting. The sons were telling their fathers all about it from the beginning. They took no notice of Zari. She no longer had the strength to follow them uphill so she turned into a side-street which led up to the main road, and walked off alone as quickly as possible. A few Indian soldiers were sitting by the stream along the road, another one urinating at the foot of a tree. When Zari passed him, he turned and flashed his naked body at her, saying, “Need woman!”
Zari quickened her step. A gendarme and a night-guard turned to look at her as they walked past. Deep down she was hoping that either her son or her husband would follow her, but when she turned into the small road that ran alongside their garden, she saw no one on her trail and felt it was just as well they hadn’t even done her that favour.
As she went into the garden, she was surprised that the others had not arrived yet. The twins were sleeping peacefully under the mosquito net. Zari sank on to her knees by the pool and immersed her face in the water. Then she sat on the edge of the pool and soaked her feet in the surrounding overflow. The water was luke-warm. She placed her hand on the head of the stone figure by the pool. Whenever they needed to use the well for watering the garden, the cistern supply flowed out of that open stone mouth. Hossein Kazerouni, the labourer, would arrive with a little cushion which he placed on the ledge behind the treadwheel, and from morning till dusk, from that cushion-seat he would work the wheel with his feet, filling the water-bucket and bringing it up to the surface. His hands were free, except when the brimming bucket appeared. Then he would detach the bucket and empty it into the little reservoir which led in turn to the cistern. Alone, from morning till dusk, that was all he did. When he went to other houses, he did the same thing. He never even sang, and Zari used to think it was a wonder his mind didn’t wither away. In order to keep him entertained, she would send the twins to watch him and talk to him. But how long could they be expected to stand there and watch?
Suddenly Zari thought, “That’s the way I’m spending my whole life! Every day I’ve sat behind a wheel and made it turn. The wheel of our lives, nurturing my children, my flowers …”
Ameh Khanom called her from the roof, interrupting her thoughts. “Did Abol-Ghassem Khan arrive on time?” she asked.
Zari lifted her head and said, “Ameh Khanom, please come down. I’m not in the mood for arguing with them by myself.”
There was loud knocking at the garden gate. Gholam, lantern in hand, dressed in a nightshirt and his usual felt hat, opened the gate. They all came in. But Khosrow followed Gholam straight to the stables and stopped in front of Sahar’s make-believe grave. Zari could only see his legs in the light of Gholam’s lantern and she stood up despite herself to get a better look at what he was doing. The feet kicked over the flowerpots one by one, and then all of Khosrow could be seen squatting to dig out the stones arranged around the grave. He flung them around the garden, disturbing the birds in the trees. The others came to join Zari and sat on the cane chairs. By this time, Ameh Khanom had come down too. Her head was bare and she was wearing a long white nightdress.
“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!”
&n
bsp; “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 …”