December 28, 2007
Work in progress 3
Working in progress 3
By the time Agha Bozorgeh was twenty seven he had his own store front in the main drag of the bazaar. he dealt in all sorts, from scrap metals to home appliances. His business was strong and he was making a name for himself amongst his colleagues. he was making a good living, good enough to save money, and purchase his first house. As good as he was doing in his store he was doing so much more in the store cellar. That was where he warehoused his Antique collections. He had rich merchants, government officials and foreign dignitaries as clients. They would come to the store and then follow him down stairs, and in a few hours they would leave with wrapped packages carried by the store workers right behind them.
The house he had purchased was a small house in Moshirol Saltaneh, one of the best neighborhoods, where the house were much larger than his, populated by wealthy landowners, merchants and many relatives of the Gadjar's ruling king, Ahmad Shah. Going to work every day he witnessed a large property that was being built with tall walls taking over of a half of the block. he asked around and found out that the property belonged to a Gadjar Prince who was building a little fortress for himself. Every day he passed by it he dreamt of one day owning it.
Soon his mother started pushing him to get married. the thought appealed to him. Having a wife would add so much to his prestige in the Bazaar, and having a son to carry after him was thrilling. He told his mother to look around, it was time. The main arena for mothers looking for future wives for their sons, and the ones looking to marry their daughters was ether the public bath, or the Sofreh's ( religious gatherings , mostly attended by women and their daughters for launch. neighbors and relatives were invited to seat around a Sofreh which was a long wide white cloth t on the rug on the floor for the guest to sit around it and eat specific ceremonial soups and foods, while a Mullah would do a sermon sitting in the adjoining room), this was where most gossip of the neighborhood was shared and the attending women and girls felt free enough to take their veils off and show off their latest dresses and jewelries but most of all their pubescent daughters to each other.
The other venue was the public bath. Going to bath had its own certain rituals and usually it took the whole day. the lady of the house and her daughters would pack fruits and sweets, and launch for their venture, usually carried by the female servants who went along. The Public bath were divided to men and women. It consisted of a very large hall that was finished with tiles from wall to floors and ceilings. there was a smaller room before the main hall where the attendees could disrobe, and leave their clothes. Once inside the women were mostly naked with a towel around them. There was a large deep pool in the middle of hall and showers set all around the walls. There were many Dalaks ( mostly older ladies who washed the women and got paid for it) and every family had their own Dalak who had helped them through out the years. The ladies would take a swim inside the heated pool, and then sit to be scrubbed with a Kiseh ( a rough cloth the fit the dalak's hand like a mitten). then took another dip in the pool, sat around, got washed gain with the Dalak using a Leefeh( a soft soaped sponge cloth). took another dip in the pool, got their hair washed and rinsed under the shower before they leave.
Public bath was more of a social gathering for these women who were mostly kept inside their house with covered curtains on the windows and not much socialising. they lived a lonely lives carrying on their house hold duties, cooking which took the most of their time, washing the clothes ( wealthier people had servants do most chores but cooking was mostly done by the lady of the house). So there was great anticipation when the time for bath came and no one was in a hurry to leave. They were free here to roam around naked talk to each other, get to know new people, and some even brought Dumbak ( a musical tool consisting of a container covered tightly on top by thin animal skin, sheep or deer, using their fingers and thumbs the player could make rhythms and music) they played and danced, had their launches, took a nap, swam again in the pool and in the late afternoon went back home.
There were also ceremonial bathng occasions for the new Bride, or for pregnant women ready for birth. For the new Bride , mother of the bride would rent the whole bath for a day. Female relatives favarable to the family on both sides would be invited. there would be music, fruits and pasteries, and lunchens. the new Bride to be would be treated to a whole day of grooming, with a few Dallaks working on her all day. First a skilled Band andaz ( frmale groomer who uses two pieces of strings and by runnibg them against each other on the face it would remove the acsess hairs) would band the bride's face. Then another Dallak would use Vajebi ( a home made remedy to remove coraser hair from arms and legs) to clean the brides extremeties from any unwanted hair. After ward a specialist would pick the eyebrows ( a grils eyebrow would not be picked until she marries- picked eyebrows were the sign of womanhood ). Then they apply Sefidab ( a white grooming foundation) and Sorkhab ( rosey powder to be applied on the cheeks). There also would be the ceromonial Hana Bandoon ( applying Hana on hands, nails, feet and toes) to finish up the grooming. Sometimes there also would be carriages carried by servants waiting for the Bride to take hr to where the ceremony was. caravan of relatives would walk behind the carriage and some servants caryy Gas lamps to lit the road.
Dalaks served an important part in these gatherings. They knew who had a beautiful girl, if she was pretty without any physical problems. They knew when each family came to bath and could let the inquirer know when to be there to see the young girl in the flesh. They would also work as a go between, introducing the mothers of young men to the mothers of the young girls and if everything went thorough they would get paid handsomely. they were the source of many Gossip, who was beaten by her husband lately, who ws pregnant, who had a miscarriage, and some times most of the deep secrets of their clients were trusted to them. Agha Bozorgs mother had tried and attended some of the Sofrehs n the neighborhood, but she hadn't found any candidates to her liking. she knew2 for her son to get married the bride had to be the prettiest girl around. The only other alternative was to make connection with the oldest Dalack in the neighborhood bath.
She met Massoumeh the Dalak at the bath hall, after explaining her predicament, she passed her a fresh hundred Riyal Bill, showing how serious she ws in her intentions. Massoumeh told her she knew of a new girl in the neighborhood, a very tall pubescent girl named Raana who had light brown hair, creamy skin, with luscious lips and large hazel eyes, she was definitely the most beautiful girl in the neighborhood, and she was always smiling, running around the bath, dancing and all together a very happy girl. Agha Bozorg's mother asked of her age, and when she could see the girl herself and was told by Massoumeh that Raana was Twelve, but a fully grown woman at that age. she also told Agha Bozorg's mother that she expected to see Raana and her mother the following week on Saturday morning.
The Following Saturday agha Bozorg's mother made her way to the bath, where she was greeted by Massoumeh and after getting another hundred Riyal bill, Massoumeh pinted Raana who was plying and swimming in the pol to Agha Bozorg's mother. Massoumeh also told her that Raana was recently engaged to marry her cousin but the poor boy had tuberculosis and Raana's mother had broken the engagement. Agha Bozorg's mother took her time and slowly got herself to where Raana's mother was sitting with a Dalak working on her. She sat next to Raana's mother and introduced herself as the newcomer to the neighborhood. rana's mother was a rather young beautiful women in her early thirties. she had light brown her and even more beautiful than her daughter. they talked and soon they found out they had many things in common. Rana's mother was also married in her youth to an older landowner in Isfahan ( one of the wealthy larger states south of Tehran, which used to be the capital during Safavid's dynasty and ws famous for its many magnificent landmarks designed and built at the heights of Islamic arts.) . after her husband's death she also had brought her only daughter with her to Tehran, joining her family and had married a relative of hers, living not too far from where Agha Bozorg and her mother lived.
Raana's mother invited her to join them for launch, and soon Raana came and sat by them. Now agha Bozorg's mother had an opportunity to thoroughly watch raana and see if she was suitable to be her Son's bride. Raana was tall, much taller than an average women in that time in Iran. She had long arms and legs. probably one of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen, beautiful bosoms and wide hips to bring healthy children to her future husband. she had beautiful singing voice and was mostly singing underlips, always smiling which opened her beautiful face and made her much more endearing to any one around.
Posted by Idinraha at 10:58 AM | Comments (0)
It was almost three in the afternoon, the sun was hot and the air dry but the kids playing soccer did not care. you could see their sweaty faces with their hair sticking to their foreheads, breathing like race horses as they passed each other by dripping the ball or passing it to a teammate, while the field dust hanged in the air like a fog covering them all.
This was Mahmud's favorite after school pass time, every afternoon they would get together and spend one a half to two hours playing soccer. That is where Mashti Mahmoud's house servant found him. Mashti shouted for Mahmoud while walking inside the field: " Mahmoud agha, Mahmoud agha", he shouted while waving his hands. At last Mahmoud heard Mashti and stopped. He did not expect Mashti to be there for another hour. Mahmoud walked toward Mashti, and once in front of him he asked," Why are you here"? . Mashti wiped his face with his big ands, took a deep breath and said, " Bozorg Agha and Khanoom want you at home immediately, they sent me to pick you up". Mashti said then smiled looking up at Mahmoud.
At six foot four, with wide shoulders, a thick head of black hair, Mahmoud made an imposing figure. He was only sixteen but already he was the talk of the neighborhood, his creamy skin ,large almond shape eyes with It black deep irises, and the way his eyelashes inked around his eyes showcasing them. His wide cheekbones, square jaw and his lips full and supple, all and all made him a dream catch for any family in the neighborhood who had a young daughter at home. The fact that his father Agha Bozorg ( his real name was Ahmad, but they called him Agha Bozorg as a way to respect his stature in the neighborhood) owned the largest house in the neighborhood, and a thriving Antiques business, made mahmoud even more of object of many neighborhood mother's desire.
Mahmoud went back to his teammates, said goodbye and back to Mashti' " this better be good Mashti or else" Mahmoud said while pushing Mashti toward their Carriage that was waiting for them by the side of the field. Once they got there, Mashti opened the carriage door and let Mahmoud get in, closed the door and got in front of the carriage sitting next to the driver. It was not proper for Mashti to sit in the carriage with Mahmoud, although Agha Bozorg used to let him sit in the back with him whenever he wanted to talk. Mashti enjoyed a close relation with Agha Bozorg which had made Khanoom and the other servants envious. Mahmoud rolled down the window and sat back, opening his shirt allowing the breeze to cool him down. he felt anxious but the movement of the carriage and the cool breeze lulled him to sleep.
It took twenty minutes before the carriage stopped in front of the door. Mashti got down, took hi key and opened the door to the house then went back to the carriage, Mahmoud was still in sleep. Mashti gently shook him on his arm," we are home Mahmoud Khan," mashti said, then he stood by as Mahmoud got off the carriage and walked inside. Mashti told the driver to take the carriage to the back of the house, and followed Mahmoud inside. The house with its twenty feet walls surrounded three compounds inside. the main house in the back, the servants quarter to the right of the main house and the smaller quarter close to the front door that housed mainly Agha Bozorg on the main level with Mashti and his family living in the basement. A large Round pool in front of the main compound leading to a thick large batch of bushes and fruit tree garden separated the Main house from Agha Bozorg quarters and the front door.
You had to walk Hundred yards of cobble stone yard before you reached the garden and another hundred yards of the garden before you reached the pool and the main house. There were also tall trees planted along the side of the walls on all sides and corners to keep the houses very private from any peeping eyes. the house was a small fortress.
Posted by Idinraha at November 28, 2007 03:01 PM
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December 10, 2007
The Work in progress 2, hard hat area
By 1935 Tehran was a city tearing at its seams. Reza shah the new monarch of Iran had tightened his grips on power and had cleared his cabinet , his army and family of all that could harm his regime. He had made deals with the Russians to the North, keeping them outside behind the Aras river, and the English in South were busy exploring Iranian Oil fields, happy that all they would pay the Iranian government was a measly 21% of all the riches they unearthed.
The Germans had agreed to make Iran's first steel factory. The railroad was already in use connecting the warm ports of Persian Golf to the snow covered heights of Zagross in north west all the way to the North in Azerbaijan.
Tehran was expanding its limits, the old Gates have been broken out and new roads were built to connect all the regions from the dry Sahara of Yazd to the rice farms of Gilan by the Caspian sea. Iran's first university was built and the new laws muscled by Reza shah through Maglis was bringing modernization to the Iranian society. Men were ordered to do away with the old clothing of the ghadjar dynasty and wear Frocks and pants. and the Iranian women were prohibited to wear Chador (veil )in the public.
The crown prince Mohamad reza was studying in Switzerland, and many young Iranian were sent to the universities in Europe to study the latest scinece, medicine, and new schools of business. In a way Reza shah was in a feverish rush to bring every thing of modern values to hi people. the hundred twenty years of Ghadjar dynasty had brought nothing to Iran but an sleepy acceptance of a nation weak in its ambitions and scattered in the fumes of the opium that tinted the Ghadjars palaces and had sipped within the conscious of its people. Reza Shah knew of the thirst that the English had for Iran's Oil, and how Stalin desired Iran as a passage way to the Persian golf trading waters, and the uprise of the Third Reich in Germany was also a threat to the stability of the whole world. He knew the time was not on his side, he had to do all he could in stolen passage of the time he had.
The army was fully behind him. He was a man of short sentences, orders that were concise and to the point. empowered by his booming voice, and fierce eyes that looked through the soul of anyone he talked to. His tall strapping figure mostly clothed in his army gear made him the picture of authority, and he used it to the best he could.. There were stories told of his fierce determination, and cruelty. When an English engineer finished a railway Bridge in North of Iran, he ordered him and his family to stand underneath the bridge while the train passed above.
Iranian people who had lived through the shame of the ghadja dynasty, were thirsty for a hero, a man of authority who could show them the way to capture the glorious past of their nation.
Reza Shah perceived his nation as a secular society in tune with all the progress of the west. His early alliance with the clergy who still manipulated the masses in Iran had solidified his power, but the new rules of modernization specifically the prohibition of women wearing veil had angered the clergy, but by now Reza shah had become not only the king but his legend had captured the hearts of many Iranians. They respected him and feared him in the same breath, and all the wealth that the new contract with English and the new trades have brought to the people had made him confident enough to ignore the clergy for now.
Mahmoud's father, Agha Bozorg was one of the beneficiaries of all these changes. His trade in netting wire, Iron, and scrap metals had flourished with all the need in the new Iranian economy. He also dwelled in Antiques. Porcelain french statues, golden Sabres, Russian Cloaks, and gold coins had made him a very rich man. His short ascend to riches had made hm a legend amongst his colleagues in Tehran Bazaars. He was a quite man of medium height. His weathered face with his large nose and lips, his unassuming eyes, always looking down and overshadowed by his thick eyebrows did not make him a handsome man. His long years in the bazaar had made him a suspicious man who rarely trusted anyone. He had a keen sense of measuring people and reading their every move. he could sense hostility, insecurity and betrayal. he knew when to pounce on an opportunity and was ruthless in getting all he could. there were stories about him of how Gypsies had stolen hm as a child and he had fled to the woods how he was raised by the wolves.
Agha Bozorg's name was Ahmad. He was born to a wealthy old landowner, and her young new bride in Brojerd, north west of Tehran. His father passed away shortly after his birth. Agha Bozorg had many older brothers and sisters, who could not stand their father's new beautiful young bride and her son. They decided to murder the new son and his widowed mother, but she fled with her infant son and travelled to Tehran where she had relatives. She was a young beautiful woman and soon she married her cousin and brought Agha Bozorg another set of step brothers and sisters. Haj Amoo became his step father and raised him like one of his own. Agha bozorg started his apprenticeship in Tehran Bazaar ( a community of wholesale dealers of all kind of raw materials, from fabrics, textile, rugs, Iron metal and netting, located in the heart of the old Tehran in a two miles square territory). Tehran Bazaar was the mecca for all the new ambitious young men who wanted to make a name for himself. they came in herds from all over the land and started as apprentices, and one in every hundreds became wealthy and famous, the rest would grow within the hierarchy of the Bazaar based on their potential, and made good living. The work was hard and physical. carrying bales of merchandise, learning the trade, the language of Bazaar, the culture of men who would buy and sell fortunes on a hand shake and passage of ones whisker or Mustache to bind the deal further. persistence, resolve, hard work, obedience, and ambitions were the ingredients
that differentiated the successful ones from the bottom dwellers.
Haj Amoo was a respected merchant, though limited in his ambitions and wealth he was highly regarded amongst his colleagues for his honesty. He was able to find a job for Agha Bozorg easily. At Twelve he was big enough to handle the hard work and ambitious enough to be at work earlier than every one else and leave later than all. Agha Bozorgs mother had thought him how to read and write, and he had learned math from Haj Amoo. Most of the merchants in the Bazaar were illiterate, helped by well paid book keepers in running their business. Agha Bozorg's knowledge helped hm to become the assistant to his bosses, book keeper, and learn the business with more awareness of prices, quotes, orders, sales and future predictions. He saved hs money and his curious nature had made him interested in Antiques, looking for them , taking about them, textile, statutes, silverware, anything with some ware and tarnish would catch his eyes, and soon he started buying some with his saved money. he was on his way to riches beyond his imagination.
Posted by Idinraha at 11:34 AM | Comments (0)
January 03, 2006
Tatiana
Tatiana made her way through the Museum door. She was coming from the rain, she stood by the door for a minute, took a deep breath, then she carefully put her colorful umbrella on the side close to the door. Afterward she took off her raincoat folded it carefully and put it in the large bag she carried with her. She walked to the guard "may I leave my umbrella here, would it be okay"? she asked while she smiled. The guard walked closer to her" We can not be responsible for it, you know some one might like it and then you have to walk home in the rain", he said while smiling back at Tatiana. She nodded her head and turned back, toward the umbrella, picked it up, and folded it carefully, then took a plastic bag from her bag and put the folded umbrella inside the plastic bag and back in the large bag. she then held up the large bag to see what kind of impact the bag would have on her carrying it around with her. It was a but heavier than she hoped for. She made a face and then she walked on.
She walked inside after buying a ticket from the guard man. Once inside the main auditorium the lights were bright and the air was warmer. She took a Paphmlet from the side of the desk were the guard was stationed. and looked through it. she then slowly walked to the side of the wall, put her bag on the floor. and looked more thoroughly at the pamphlet. She had the whole after noon. There was nobody home waiting for her, and there was nothing else that demanded her attention at all. she could take her time and enjoy her quiet adventure. She decided to see the paintings firs. they were exhibited on the first floor and not too far from where she was. She picked up her bag again and walked toward the right of the auditorium.
The Museum was not crowded. and she could walk freely. she liked the quietness of the museum, since the girls had moved away, living alone by herself had made her appreciate the silence that comes with loneliness. At first it was a bit cumbersome for her, but she had learned to enjoy it. At Seventy she was still in good shape, she had gained a bit of weight lately, but she had always been energetic. She used to run her husband's shop single handedly, talking to customers, taking orders, and sometimes even help them carrying the merchandise to their car. Raising two girls and running her over size house at the same time. she had learned long time ago that to avoid the black clouds she had to stay busy and staying busy, she did most of her life.
Posted by Idinraha at 02:18 PM | Comments (0)
untitled
To claim that I was conscious of my being and surroundings during my birth might sound much unrealistic, but I am not obliged to see it through your eyes. I am the story teller and this might be a tall tale. My mother has always been amazed of what I claim to remember, and she does have her own theory about my claims. She knows that most of what I say has many aspects of truth to it. She believes that I do have a very good memory and a keen sense of listening. So most of my memories are recorded inside my mind of what others have said and remembered. However she does enjoy when I use old words in my tales and how I do make them memorable.
I was born yellow, my skin was yellow , not Canary yellow, but to the skilled eyes of the obstetrician who had the pleasure of welcoming me to the world I was jundas. I could see the expression in her blue eyes and puffy sweet face, as she thought, well he would not last long. And I would also like to claim that it was that expression that made me more aware of my situation and pushed me into survival mode. I knew immediately that I had to try harder to live through this. Once they washed me and wrapped me, they put me back in my mother's arms and suddenly I felt in familiar territory. I looked deep within my mother's eyes and I knew well that those eyes will be with me for a long time.
My mother had looked exhausted, her hair still wet by the sweat, but the expressions on her face was all of love and happiness. So in a very short time I had come to experience the expressions of surprise and doom by my obstetrician's face and love and hope by my mothers. It looked like a good start and since I was the second child of my mother, she was a pro in breast feeding , so soon I was holding to her like dear life and her life was coming through me, spiked by hope and love what she was feeding me was heavenly . It was the warmth of the fluid that was running through me and the touch of her breast on my face the promise of the life that was within her, and the scent of her, all and all cradling me in bliss, and soon I was sleep.
I don't remember how impressed I was upon my introduction to my father. I could imagine that his touch would not have been as soft and his arms did not smell of milk and he would have been in a hurry to go somewhere or do something, and our introduction would have been short. Realistically, my birth would not have had as much novelty for him since he already had a son, my brother who was two years older than me, and I was not a fresh discovery, and later on we found out how stale was my introduction since he has had a busy schedules and many secrets to keep. I immediately should had known and maybe I did, that this relationship with my father would not amount to too much, and maybe as my analyst has told me recently, there is the base for my ever fascination with women and my dismay for men.
Posted by Idinraha at 11:29 AM | Comments (1)
September 13, 2005
The Persians
I had just written the poem -The hour of ascent. It was more than a poem, it was a pleading. It was the cry's of a man who knew he would fall, and all his grace would be claimed by his urges. Urges so human, so fitting within the arrogance of his young life. I was standing at the tip of the cliff and beneath me was the air, the ocean and my fall, and I was at this knowingly. I had come for my fall. I had sinned before but not of this magnitude, never with such fervor. I had always wanted more, but never this much.
The boy grows to be a man, but he is not a man till he becomes aware of his limitations. I had not known my limitations, and I had always needed so much. To push further. Though conservative in all my elements, I enjoyed the lure of sin, and the depth it held. Now I had come to claim it. The opportunity was at hand, and I was eager. I knew, another step, and I would not know how to return, another step, and I fall. I had enough of living within the parameters of reason, I had enough of my middle class sensibilities. Not knowing who was my father, was it Cane or Able. One more step, and I would know. One more step and my life would be defined within the heritage of my tribe.
I had come to this of my own will, or at least I presumed so. I had always been my own man, even at the tender age of Four and five, carrying my big head on my puny shoulders, walking straight and stern. A friend told me later on," You never used to smile, you were so serious,". That was my sanctuary, where I crawled and stayed. It was my def fence, my armor, my solitude, and salvation. They would not have reached there and I was safe. The damage was done much earlier. Healthy as I might have looked, if you could look deeper within my eyes. only if I allowed you to tread closer, you would have seen the decay of a soul in pain. The helpless mutant that had crawled and stayed in me for years. Deformed and raw, with such thirst , such appetite. And yet I had concealed him within me, dancing on surfaces of every day living of a child. There is no pity here for me, I was blessed for my damage and even then I knew the extent of distances and differences.
The man prays to his God for allowance of sight, of knowing what he is not designed to know, and seeing what he should not. His God asks him if he could bear, if he could stand the severity of knowing , and the horror of unseen. To which he replies with such greed, such fever, not knowing the limits within him. So he is allowed, and he gets to see, and know more than he should, and the illusions bleed within the reality he adheres to and he loses both, what he knows and what he dares to know. I saw too much, and heard too much and wanted so much, and needed much more, and this all became a tender wound within my soul, and no healing in sight. No giving arms to hold, no bosoms to feed of, and the wretched quietness of days that dripped so slowly within my patience.
There was the dreams of rooftops, the two white toy accordions, for me and my brother, and my father who walked with his hands inside his pockets and his empty eyes filled with dread. Happiness was a game of hide and seek, a game we played. drinking the cold water after a long run, or hitting the ball to cross the lines. Happiness was easy, at reach. My mother, the most beautiful woman I've ever known, playing her own game of house. She walked around the house in her black ceremonial dress, and as she passed, I could hear how her heart was sinking within her chest and her pride was fading. And the displacement of our days, and the new beds we never cared to sleep in. as the security of the every day rituals were gone, and we were settled in unknown territories. Too young to know, maybe. But my eyes could see and my heart would ache. She was not there and I wondered, if The world would ever be safe again.
Posted by Idinraha at 05:59 PM | Comments (0)