and some of the other servants, told them to pretend they were movers and to collect everything they could.”
“Oh, thank you, Meshang, how clever you are.” She was greatly relieved. It would have been unthinkable for her to have gone herself. Her eyes filled with tears. “I know it’s the Will of God but I feel so empty without Father.”
“Yes, yes, it’s the same for me… Insha’Allah.” There was nothing more he could do. He had done everything correctly, overseeing the washing of the body, binding it with the best muslin, and then the burial. Now the first part of mourning was over. On the fortieth day would be another ceremony at the cemetery when once more they would weep and rend their clothes and all would be inconsolable. But then, as now, each would once more take up the weight of living, there was the Shahada to say five times a day, the Five Pillars of Islam to obey to ensure you went to heaven and not to hell - your only important reason for life. I will certainly go to Paradise, he thought with total confidence.
They sat silently in the small room over the shop that such a short time ago was the private domain of Jared Bakravan. Was it only four days since Father was negotiating with Ali Kia for the new loan - that we still somehow have to provide - and Paknouri burst in and all our troubles began? Son of a dog! It’s all his fault. He led the Green Bands here. Yes, and he’s been a curse for years. If it hadn’t been for his weakness, Sharazad would have had five or six children by now and we wouldn’t be saddled with the Infidel who makes us the butt of a thousand bazaari sneers.
He saw the bruise around her left eye and did not comment. This morning he had thanked God and agreed with his wife that the beating had brought her out of her fit. “No harm to a good beating from time to time, Zarah,” he had said with relish, and thought, All women need a good beating now and then with their constant nagging and nattering and crying and bickering, and jealousies and interference and all this ungodly talk of voting and marches and protests. Against what? Against the laws of God!
I’ll never understand women. Still, even the Prophet, whose Name be praised, he, the most perfect man that ever lived, even he had problems with women and ten more wives after Khadija, his first, had died after having given him six children - how sad that no sons survived him, only his daughter Fatima. Even after all this experience with women it’s written that even the Prophet, even he, would have to take himself aside for peace from time to time.
Why can’t women be content to stay in the home, be obedient, keep quiet, and not meddle?
So much to do. So many threads to pick up and to find, secrets to unlock, accounts and promissory notes and debts to uncover, and so little time. All our property stolen, villages, the estate on the Caspian, houses and apartments and buildings all over Tehran - all the ones the devils know about! Devils! The Revolutionary Komiteh and mullahs and Green Bands are devils on earth. How am I going to deal with them all? But I must, somehow. I must, then next year I will make the pilgrimage to Mecca. “As God wants,” he said and felt a little better. And it’s as God wants that I am put in charge long before I expected it, even though I’m as well trained as any son could be to take over an empire, even the Bakravan empire.
It’s also as God wants that I already know where most of the secrets are, whispered to me by Father over the last few years when he discovered I was to be trusted, cleverer than he had ever expected. Didn’t I suggest the numbered Swiss bank accounts nearly seven years ago, and explain about U.S. Treasury bills, real-estate investment in America, and most of all about the Seven Sisters? We made millions, all of it safe from these sons of dogs, thanks be to God! Safe in Switzerland in gold, land, blue chips, dollars, deutsche marks, yen, and Swiss francs…
He saw Sharazad looking at him, waiting. “The servants will do everything before sunset, Sharazad, don’t worry,” he said, loving her though wanting her to leave so that he could continue his work. But it was time to gather in other strings: “This husband of yours, he agreed to become a Muslim, didn’t he?”
“How kind of you to remember, dear Meshang. My husband agreed to consider it,” she said defensively. “I’ve been teaching him whenever I can.” “Good. When he returns please tell him to come to see me.” “Yes, of course,” she said at once. Meshang was head of the family now, and, as such, was to be obeyed without question.
“The year and a day is overdue, is it not?”
Sharazad’s face lit up. “I’m honored to tell you, darling Meshang, that perhaps God has blessed us, I am overdue one or two days.” “God be praised. Now that is worth celebrating! Father would have been so pleased.” He patted her hand. “Good. Now, what about him - your husband? This would be the perfect time to divorce, wouldn’t it?”
“No! Oh, how could you say such a thing?” she burst out before she could stop herself. “Oh, absolutely not, oh, no, that would be terrible, I would die, it would be terr - ”
“Be quiet, Sharazad! Think!” Meshang was astonished by her bad manners. “He’s not Iranian, not Muslim, he has no money, no future, he’s hardly worthy to be part of the Bakravans, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, yes, of course I… I agree to everything you say but if I may add…” she said hastily, keeping her eyes lowered to cover her shock, cursing herself for not being aware how much Meshang was opposed to her Tommy, that therefore he was enemy, to be guarded against. How could I have been so naive and so stupid? “I agree there may be problems, my darling, and agree with everything you say…” she heard herself tell him in her most honeyed voice, her mind working with the speed of light, analyzing, discarding, trying to make a plan - for now and for the future - for without Meshang’s benevolence, life would be very difficult. “You’re the wisest man I know… but perhaps I may be allowed to say that God put him into my path, Father agreed to my marriage, so until God takes him out of my path and guides m - ”
“But now I am head of the family and everything’s changed - the Ayatollah’s changed everything,” he said curtly. He had never liked Lochart, resented him as an Infidel, the cause of all their present and past troubles, despised him as an interloper and an unwarranted expense, but because he had had no power to interfere and because of their father’s tacit agreement he had always kept it hidden. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, but the revolution’s changed everything. We live in a different world, and in the light of this I must consider your future and the future of your son.” “You’re perfectly right, Meshang, and I bless you for thinking of me and my child, how wonderful you are and how fortunate that you’re here to take care of us,” she said, back in control now. She continued to flatter, cajole, being penitent for her lack of manners, using all of her guile, allowing him no opening and turning their conversation to other things. Then at the perfect time she said, “I know you must be very busy.” She got up, smiling. “Will you and Zarah be home for dinner? Cousin Karim’s coming if he can get away from the base, won’t that be fun? I haven’t seen him since…” She stopped herself in time. “For at least a week, but most important, Meshang, cook is making your favorite horisht, just the way you like it.” “Oh? He is? Oh, well, yes, yes, we will - but tell him not to use too much garlic - now concerning your husb - ”
“Oh that reminds me, darling Meshang,” she said, playing her last card - for the moment. “I heard that Zarah now has your permission to go on the Women’s March, the day after tomorrow, how sensitive of you.” She saw the sudden flush and laughed to herself, knowing that Zarah was as adamant about going as he was adamant against it. His fury soared. She listened patiently, her eyes guileless, nodding in agreement from time to perfect time. “My husband agrees with you totally, darling Meshang,” she said with suitable fervor. “Yes, totally, dearest brother, and I’ll certainly remind Zarah, if she asks me, about your feelings…” Not that this will make the slightest difference to her, or to me, because on this protest march we will go. She kissed him lightly. “Good-bye, my darling, try not to work too hard. I’ll make sure about the horisht.”
Then she had gone at once to Zarah and had warned her that Meshang was still furious against the march: “Ridiculous! All our friends will be there, Sharazad. Does he want us shamed before our friends?” Together they had made a plan. By this time it was late afternoon and she had rushed home to command horisht, “just as the Master likes it and if you use too much garlic and it’s not perfect I’ll… I’ll get old Ashabageh the Soothsayer to put the evil eye on you! Go to the market and buy the melon he adores!” “But, mistress, there haven’t been any melons for s - ”
“Get one!” she had screeched and stamped her foot. “Of course you can get one!”
Then supervising Jari tidying away all her clothes and Tommy’s clothes, shedding a tear now and then, not for the loss of their apartment that he had wanted and enjoyed more than she, but only from happiness to be home again. A rest, last prayer, and then a bath and now the massage. “There, Princess,” Jari said, her arms tired. “Now you should dress for dinner. What would you like to wear?”
Wearing the dress that would please Meshang the most, the multicolored woolen skirt and blouse he admired. Then once more checking on the horisht and the polo - the golden-crusted, mouth-watering Iranian way of cooking rice - and the other Meshang specialty, the melon, sweet-smelling and juicy and perfectly sculptured.
