The cherubs were having a field day. One of them would read out the list of people in order, another would hold the sack open, and the third would throw in the stars as the name of each owner was announced. When the sacks had been filled up, the old Charioteer tied and sealed them one by one, and then handed them to the cherubs. Each cherub was given one sack with a list of people whose stars it contained, and in return they gave a receipt. The Charioteer appointed one supervisor and five assistants for them, and ordered the ladders to be lowered to Earth.
It was a sight worth seeing. Imagine! Millions of sun-beam ladders, with millions of cherubs carrying sacks full of stars, rushing down those ladders. The old man had seen many interesting sights in his lifetime, but never anything like this. He had witnessed the day Lucifer stood up to the Master, quarrelled with him and left; he had seen Gabriel’s wings burn away, and had been there the day the Master commanded the lotuses in every earthly lake to open while He sent the Light of Wisdom to that man sitting cross-legged beneath the tree …
The young cherubs were to knock at every door on Earth, and give each person his or her own star. “From now on,” they were to say, “it’s up to you!” Actually, they were free to phrase that message any way they chose.
Now the old Charioteer went to the West to see the Sun off on his course. Climbing out of his Golden Chariot which he left to the Charioteer, the Sun said, “Well done!”
“I’ll have to think of a solution for the Master’s cloak,” said the old man. “From now on there will be no more stars on it at night until He has time to create some new ones.”
“Why should that be up to you?” replied the Sun, before bidding the old man a chilly goodbye.
The Charioteer was glad his task was over. He ran a hand over his thick, woolly beard and thought, “Well now that I’ve got the chance, I might as well clean up too!”
It seemed a shame, but he decided to chop off that impressive beard which reached all the way down to his toes. As he did so, bit by bit, he covered the whole sky with the shavings. Then he broke Nahid’s pitcher and poured the water over his head and body, washing himself thoroughly in the process. He looked quite a bit younger in the end. With all this water, the heavenly river of the galaxy swelled. Meanwhile, the sky over Earth was looking very cloudy. There was even some thunder and lightning and much rain, but the cherubs were not in the least frightened. They knew the old Charioteer had broken Nahid’s pitcher of water.
Thrice the Sun came and went, and there was no news of the young cherubs, their supervisors or their assistants. Every day the Charioteer would sit in a corner of the heavens, gazing on the planet Earth as it spun like a top around the Sun in space. Little by little, he began to worry. “What if they’ve lost the way,” he thought. “What if their sun-beam ladders have got soaked in the water from Nahid’s pitcher and then burned to cinders in the lightning?” The heavens were empty; empty of stars, empty of cherubs … and still there was no message from the Master.
On the morning of the fourth day, he heard some noises in the distance. It sounded like the beating of wings, and the rustle of a breeze. Then the noises became more distinct. It was like a cosmic ringing, a melody which arises from the orbiting of planets and galaxies. Ladders were hoisted skywards, and soon enough the cherubs appeared. The Charioteer smiled. How the little cherubs had grown in this short time! How tall they had become!
He came forward to welcome them, all the while looking out for the supervisor and his assistants. Most of the cherubs didn’t recognize him at first, but those who did said at once, “Why do you look like that? We came back because we missed playing with your beard.”
They all began talking at the same time about their experiences on Earth, and there was such a din no-one could be heard above the others. The Charioteer suddenly thundered out in a voice which penetrated the noise, “I’ve had enough!” Then, when everyone had quietened down, he asked, “Where is the supervisor I sent with you?”
A cherub who was taller than all the rest stepped forward and said, “He didn’t come. He stayed behind, and asked me to replace him.”
“What happened to the assistants?” asked the Charioteer.
“They stayed too,” said the new supervisor; “you know, one hundred and eighty thousand, three hundred and twenty-five cherubs stayed on Earth. With the supervisor and assistants, that makes one hundred and eighty thousand, three hundred and thirty-one.”
“Why?” interrupted the Charioteer. “What was happening on Earth?”
All the little cherubs shouted together, “The Earth is so interesting, everything is alive there!”
The Charioteer clapped his hands to his ears. “You’re deafening me!” he said. “One person at a time! You, supervisor, you tell me.”
“You see,” said the new supervisor, “the Earth is genuine. It’s real. It’s not imaginary or illusory. It’s not nebulous, fleeting, or chimeric. It is solid. Your feet are on firm ground, and everyone and everything isn’t floating.”
“What do humans look like?”
“They come in all shapes and sizes. None of them look alike, but they are all real, made of flesh and blood. You know, down there everything grows, everything is in a state of flux. Everything is subject to the laws of creation, evolution and decay. There, nobody and nothing is eternal.”
“I gathered that when I saw you. Now tell me about your mission.”
“We really enjoyed ourselves. We celebrated their festivities. They had wars too, as well as poverty and disease. We wept for them.”
“What did you do with their stars?”
“We gave each star to its owner, from the young to the old. The assistants gave me a report of their work on every continent. I’ve summarized all the reports for you here.” And the new supervisor took out a folded piece of paper from underneath his right wing, and read out loud, “As you had instructed, the cherubs were to hand each person his star, with the words, ‘We now entrust you with your own star so you know you are henceforth free. You must be your own support and refuge.’ The reaction of the earthlings was the following: the children’s eyes sparkled upon seeing their stars, and they quickly took them and started to play with them. When we left, they were still playing. The old people merely said, ‘It’s too late now’ As for the youth and the middle-aged—and they are the ones who run most of the affairs of Earth—their reactions were mixed. All the people in this group received their stars, but most of them, no matter how much we explained, could not grasp what the Master meant. Some of them almost immediately lost their stars. Others hid their stars in their pockets, smug with the knowledge that they had a star tucked away. Only a few amongst these people understood very well. Some of them said, ‘This is the way we have always been. We had no expectations from any celestial or earthly stars, as we neither believe in destiny nor in complaining about being born under a good or bad star.’ This group of people used complicated words, and the cherubs didn’t always understand. Even their fellow earthlings had difficulty understanding them. Then again, one or two others from this group said, ‘What a good thing it is that each person has found his own star.’ These were an odd group, and in every country we came across a few of them. Some had beards, but not quite as long as yours used to be. These people immediately went to work on their dictionaries, striking out a lot of words from the vocabulary; words such as destiny, fortune, chance, fate, pre-determined and pre-ordained and all the other synonyms or equivalents. They were trying to replace these words with new ones rooted in ‘freedom’ and ‘liberty’ as we were leaving.”
The Charioteer smiled. “One of these days I shall have to visit Earth,” he said. “From what you tell me, it sounds very interesting.”
McMahon fell silent. Zari opened her eyes. It felt as though she had just woken from a pleasant dream.
“What a story!” she said.
“Did you understand all of it?” asked Yusef.
“Whatever I didn’t understand I pieced together with my
imagination.” Then turning to McMahon, Zari said, “Actually, at first I was expecting to hear a children’s story.”
“You see,” he explained, “your daughters planted the germ of this story in my mind … the first images I had were those of someone sweeping the sky and a sackful of stars inside a dark cupboard. But to tell you the truth, no matter how hard I tried I wasn’t able to write a story for the children themselves, to pay back my debt to them. It turned out as you heard it.”
Yusef laughed; he got up to pour some wine for McMahon and handed him the glass. McMahon took a sip and said, “It’s good wine, where can one buy it?”
“You know,” Yusef said, “now that I’ve heard your story again, it occurs to me your favourite theme is that same one you keep repeating in your poems.” McMahon didn’t say anything, so Yusef continued, “You’re trying to atone for the sins of others.”
Zari no longer understood what her husband meant. She was about to ask him, when she heard Abol-Ghassem Khan’s voice from the parlour.
“Where’s everybody hiding?” he called out. Then he appeared in person. He blinked and said, “I heard there was a feast in this house tonight, so I got myself here on the double!”
20
As Kolu began to regain his strength, he made himself a slingshot with which he pestered the sparrows in the garden until they could have no peace on any branch. There was still room to be grateful, however, since of all the window panes in the main building, only the pantry’s had been broken. That day Zari had given Kolu a hard slap on the back of his hand, saying, “I’ve had more than enough of you!”
And Kolu had sat underneath the orange-blossom tree, crying and sobbing loudly to be taken back to his mother and brother.
Every Sunday before dawn, Kolu would get up, undress, and jump into the pool with the copper crucifix around his neck, waking Zari up with the noise. Then he would get out of the pool and, according to Gholam, dress in his new clothes, gulp down a little breakfast and rush off to see the black-robed man at the Missionary Hospital. Just before noon, he would return home and instead of his usual hello, announce, “I am a Christian.” By lunch-time, though, he had clean forgotten it, and reverted to swearing by Hazrate Abbas again.
That last Sunday, Kolu had come home later than usual. Zari was in the kitchen, preparing provisions for Yusef’s trip, so they could have some dinner ready when they reached Zarqan that night. Kolu came into the kitchen and eagerly preached to Zari and Khadijeh about Jesus Christ. He also mentioned Judas and asked Zari whether that ungrateful scoundrel was to be found in the Jewish quarter. Then he said with a sigh, “I am a lost Iamb of Jesus.” He clasped his hands in prayer before his lips and continued, “O Jesus who art in heaven. Let’s see if you can find me and take me home to my mother!”
Khadijeh scolded him. “You stupid boy, repent before Allah! Go wash out your mouth!”
“Leave him alone,” said Zari quietly.
“Every night from now on I’ll talk to Mr Jesus and pester him until he comes to me. After all what kind of shepherd is he to abandon all his lambs and go and sit up in the sky? If he’s true to his word, let him come down and take me … if he takes me with him then I’ll give him my father’s flute which I’ve hidden under the bedclothes. But if he doesn’t, may Hazrate Abbas strike me down if I don’t hit him one in the middle of the forehead with my slingshot when I come across him!”
He dug a hand into his coat pocket and brought out three copper crucifixes which he showed to Zari. “The fang-toothed woman gave me these charms,” he said. “One is for my mother, one for my uncle, and the other for my uncle’s wife—I’m taking these for them as souvenirs.” He held one of the crucifixes in front of Khadijeh and said, “Kiss it!”
Khadijeh shoved his hand away. “You idiot!” she snapped. “Go back to your mother!”
Zari thought, “None of them have ever accepted him as a son in this family. Not even myself or Ameh Khanom.”
“The fang-toothed woman told me Jesus is everywhere—in our village too,” Kolu went on. “She said any child who calls out, ‘Mr Jesus!’ He immediately says, ‘Yes, my child.’ But I’m too old now so I can’t hear him.”
That evening Yusef decided to take Kolu with him to the village. Zari couldn’t help thinking, “What does the poor boy imagine now? That Jesus found him?”
Kolu couldn’t keep still for joy, so much so that he left his slingshot behind, even though he knew he wouldn’t be going straight to his family. First he was going with Yusef to Zarqan until someone could be found to take him to the lowlands. Clearly the poor lad felt that every step away from Yusef’s homestead was a step closer to his own village …
They departed, and Zari found herself alone during the long, turbulent nights, filled with nightmares. Nights so long, it seemed they would never be followed by morning. As time drew on, her thoughts became more distressed and her dreams more agitated.
Ameh was an expert at interpreting dreams. Everyone—even strangers—acknowledged this. Sometimes total strangers would telephone her and recount their dreams. She would greet them politely, and then proceed to give her interpretation, in the hope of doing a good deed. She also had a handwritten manual of dream interpretation which she would refer to in case of difficulty. But even Ameh was unable to unravel two of Zari’s dreams. She leafed through her book carefully, but she still couldn’t find the key to those two dreams. And it was for this reason, according to Ameh, that of all Zari’s dreams, those two were constantly repeated.
Zari would dream that she stood stark naked in the middle of an unfamiliar square, surrounded by thousands of staring men and women. She also dreamt that it was exam-time at school, and a dark-skinned, scowling examiner was standing before her. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she didn’t know any of the answers. She racked her brains and sweated and her pulse raced, but still she was unable to answer the questions. In the morning, she could no longer remember what the questions were.
Ameh instructed her to beg a piece of bread from a beggar and then eat it so she would remember the questions.
One night Zari dreamt that a two-headed dragon swallowed her husband whole, as he was galloping along on his mare. When she looked closely, she realized that the two-headed dragon looked like Captain Singer, dressed in a Scottish tartan kilt with embroidery all around the edge. This particular dream Ameh interpreted easily. She said it meant that Singer would become a public laughing-stock, but Yusef, like Jonah, would learn patience and endurance in the whale’s stomach. The darkness inside the whale would enlighten him so that he could understand the secrets of the universe.
A few nights later Zari dreamt that the Governor had tossed Yusef into the furnace with his own hands. Yusef had burnt to a cinder, but nevertheless managed to grope his way out. Ameh interpreted the fire as the biblical one which had descended upon Abraham and then turned into a flower-garden. Yusef’s coming out of the fire meant that he had passed his ordeal. And although Ameh’s words reminded Zari of Siavush’s story, she kept quiet. Because that night, in the tent of the tribal chief … that night when Malek Sohrab took a bet with her over a Brno gun, and she had lost but never paid up … that night they had talked of Siavush the whole time, and teased Zari because she knew about John the Baptist and not about Siavush, and they had explained to her that Siavush had passed through the fire and come out vindicated …
Ameh went on with her interpretation. “The furnace is clearly the same one in which the wicked Khuli woman hid Muslim-ibn-Aqil’s children. Burning to a cinder signifies being purified and vindicated because, as you know, the meaning of a woman’s dream is always the reverse of the dream itself.”
Another night just before dawn, Zari dreamt that Kolu had struck Yusef right in the middle of the forehead with his slingshot. Ameh didn’t bother to interpret this one saying that dreaming just before dawn has no significance.
Ten days after Yusef’s departure, it was rumoured that Malek Sohrab had become an outlaw. Everyone who ca
me to the house had something to say about it. Gholam told Zari that Malek Sohrab had taken to the mountains with a thousand gunmen and was hiding in an inaccessible spot.
One day Khosrow told her excitedly, “He’s close to Yasuj now, with two thousand fighting men. And he still hasn’t come down the mountain—what a man!”
A few days later, Hormoz showed up and commented, “Auntie, you know how much I admire bravery, but I think brave men should also have a sense of timing.”
Abol-Ghassem Khan often came along in a hurry to pick up Hormoz and take him off to his highness the Governor, but each time Zari would coax him into staying awhile, plying him with some of Tavuus Khanom’s oldest and best wines, and pressing delicacies on him until she managed to draw out some news.
“I hear Bibi Hamdam, Malek Sohrab’s mother, went to Army Headquarters,” Abol-Ghassem Khan told her. “She barged into the captain’s room without permission and threw herself, in those wide breeches of hers, at the major-general’s feet. She begged immunity for her son, and promised to bring him to the authorities herself. The major-general advised her to do that as soon as possible, at which point Bibi Hamdam pulled out a Quran from her bosom and tried to make him swear not to harm her son. But the major-general only kicked the old woman’s hand away.”