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He entered my house in search of the
murderer,
0 Shah, what greater humiliation than this?
The reason for murder was the officer's being drunk, Why, then, yell and
treat an old woman like this? The officers of the Sultan ransack the land,
But old women are accused as criminals!
He who has committed this oppression
Has harmed my reputation and your justice. ,"
In the rest of this poem Nizami draws the comparison between the sultan who
lives upon his subjects by plunder and oppression and the sultan who
protects his subjects by justice and even-handedness.
During the summer holiday I decided to find another job somewhere other than
my father's factory. I thought that if I worked for my father I would not be
able to study as much as I wanted. Besides, I wanted to support my own
education, that is, pay my own fees and travelling expenses. My parents did
not expect any money from me. The relationship between parents and children
in Iran and the East in general is rather different from that in the West.
Parents in Iran do not charge money for food and accommodation unless they
are poor and unable to support themselves. In this case the children work
and support their parents.
Through a friend I found a job in a material shop at Amir Bazaar, which was
one of the best and most crowded bazaars in Tabriz. Many people shopped for
their weddings in this bazaar, particularly for the dresses and jewellery.
It was well arranged and brightly lit, with goldsmiths, jewellers,
perfumeries and material shops of all kinds. There was another bazaar
parallel to Amir Bazaar where there were herbs and haberdashery shops. I
used to like passing this bazaar, which was full of the smell of fresh
herbs.
I worked in Haji Ali-Asghar Turchiyan's shop from 9 a.m. to 4.45 p.m. and
went to my evening classes at 5 p.m. I had to leave the shop almost three
hours before closing time. There are no fixed hours for shops in Tabriz and
in other cities of Iran. The bazaars usually close between six and seven in
the evening but the shops in the streets are open, especially in summer,
until midnight. This gives an air of liveliness to the evening streets, with
people strolling up and down, shopping and window-shopping. Most shops close
for two or three hours at midday for the afternoon siesta. This is an
especially welcome break during the hot summer months.
My job in the shop was to help the customers, measure the materials, arrange
and pack them. Mr Turchiyan handled the money. At noon Mr Turchiyan would go
to the mass prayer at the nearby mosque and I used to sit, if there were no
customers (the shop was usually very quiet in the afternoons), and revise my
lessons. We ate our lunch together - fresh bread with butter and honey in
winter and fresh bread, cheese and fruit in autumn and summer. Then twice a
week I was sent to different places to collect money from Mr Turchiyan's
debtors. These hours were most pleasant ones when I had a chance to read my
books and go through my English vocabulary while waiting for the people from
whom I had to collect the money.
On the whole, my employer was a kind and polite man who did not interfere
with my studies while the shop was quiet. I was paid 25 tomans (about £3 at
that time) per month, excluding my lunch. I paid 12 tomans for the evening
class and spent 13 more on travelling and books. I managed to save some
money from my wages and tips so that I would have something to spend during
the three months (April to June) when I left work to concentrate on my
studies and prepare for the final examination.
I stayed at home during these months to revise. I spent part of April in the
library and May and June in our garden under the fruit trees. It was
pleasant to be able to revise and think in the fresh air and spring
sunshine, especially since I could help myself to the fruit which hung above
my head as I sat and studied underneath the trees. At lunchtime my mother
would call me in for a meal. I never wanted a big lunch in case I felt
sleepy afterwards and could not study, but enjoyed sitting with my parents,
brothers and sisters. I was always anxious not to miss the melon or
water-melon after the meal.
After this effort I managed to pass all the subjects and had thus completed
both the second and third years of secondary school. I had now moved one
year ahead of my former classmates at Nizami School. This year (19501951)
when I attended the Azar night-school, Bungah-i Azar, was a year of change
for me. I was introduced to the outside world. I met many people from
different levels both in the bazaar and at night-school. There were workers,
army and air-force personnel, businessmen and young students like me in my
class. We had well-known teachers in physics, chemistry, history, Persian
and other subjects. Our physics teacher was called Murtaza Alasti. He was a
good teacher but very strict and treated us like schoolchildren. Nobody was
allowed to enter his class after he had started the lesson. I remember one
day one of the workers, a Mr Dabbagh, who worked in a textile factory in
Tabriz, arrived five minutes late and knocked at the classroom door. The
teacher did not let him come in. I protested and said, "Sir, Mr Dabbagh is
no schoolboy, but a worker who is returning from his work. It is not fair to
keep him outside." My words fell like a bombshell in the classroom. Mr
Alasti lost his temper and said sarcastically, "A new barber has arrived and
cuts our hair differently." He meant that I had opposed tradition and his
programme. Perhaps he was right, but I could not bear to see the innocent
face of Mr Dabbagh outside the door and deprived of attending one of our
most important subjects.
After speaking these words, Mr Alasti stalked out of the classroom. The
reaction in the classroom was mixed: some believed that the teacher was
right and some believed that I was right. A member of the air force who was
sitting next to me (and in fact supported me) said, "You'd better go and
apologise to Mr Alasti and ask him to return to his class." Worried about
the loss of the physics lesson, I took his advice and went to the
principal's room, where I found Mr Alasti. The principal, without
hesitation, advised me to stay out of class for two weeks while Mr Alasti
decided whether to accept me back or not.
For a fortnight I stayed away from the physics classes. One evening I went
to Mr Alasti's house and knocked on the door. A woman answered and I asked
for him. She said, "Wait, while I go and call him." Shortly afterwards Mr
Alasti appeared at the door. I greeted him and apologized for disturbing him
in his class. He said, "I appreciate your feelings" but you put me on the
spot in the classroom and made me feel guilty. You know, there are many
individual rich students who want me to teach them privately but I prefer to
teach the students at Bungah-i Azar. You may come back to my classes." In
June when we received our examination results, Mr Dabbagh received the
highest marks in the classroom. I was delighted.
During the following summer I worked in the shop next to the one owned by
Haji Ali-Asghar Turchiyan. The name of the shop owner was Mr QariZadeh. My
work was rather dull and less stimulating in this shop, nor did I have the
same freedom that I had in my previous employment. Mr Qari Zadeh neither
showed any interest in my studies, nor did he talk to me about bazaar
matters.
Before the summer ended I decided to work with Hassan, Haji Turchiyan's
nephew. We both had a small amount of savings with which we bought some
material. His father, who also owned a large material shop opposite his
brother's, let us use the outside corner of his shop to sell our goods. This
suited me very well, because I was my own boss and could sit and read or
prepare my lessons and meanwhile serve any customer who wanted to buy some
material.
I had enrolled at Bungah-i Azar to study the fourth and fifth years of
secondary level. These years were equivalent to '0' level or Scottish '0'
grade. As in the previous year, I worked in the bazaar until 5 p.m. and then
attended my evening classes. This year I had much to do. Mathematics,
physics and chemistry were much harder. In addition we had Arabic, English
and Persian examinations. In April I stopped working in the bazaar and
started to revise for the final examination. My father, who had seen that I
was studying very seriously, did not bother asking me to do any odd jobs in
the factory. But I still went there sometimes and talked to the workers.
I took my examinations in June and passed all of them. It seemed like a
miracle. Some of the students who attended the classes with me had tried
several times and failed. Their talk of failure had frightened me and made
me anxious. A few weeks before the examinations I had talked to myself
sternly: "Those who have attempted the examinations several times and have
failed are those who attend the classes but do not do their homework and do
not revise properly before the examinations. Look at those who frighten you.
They spend most of their time in front of the girls' school and watch them
or chat with them on their return home. If you study all the allocated books
and answer all the questions in mathematics, physics and chemistry, and
translate Arabic into Persian correctly, then there is no reason for
worrying." This talk to myself had helped me.
By now I was two years ahead of my former fellow students at Nizami School.
Most of my friends there knew what I was doing and in fact seemed proud of
me. Their positive attitude had encouraged me and I was pleased that I had
not disappointed them.
The following summer, 1952, I did not work in the bazaar but I helped my
father at the factory and at home. I was also busy thinking about my future:
whether to enrol in the military academy and become an officer after three
or four years of study, or to enrol in a day-school and do the sixth and
final year of secondary school, which is equivalent to 'A' level or Highers
in Scotland. I finally decided on the latter and enrolled at Firdausi
day-school.
Firdausi Secondary School was one of the largest and oldest schools in the
city centre. It was a three-storey brick building surrounded by a large
schoolyard. It had large laboratories for chemistry, physics and physiology.
Dr Kishavarzi taught chemistry. Mr Alasti (who also taught at the
nightschool) taught physics and Dr Taymuri, the principal of the
night-school, taught physiology a few days a week and also worked at the
university hospital. He had a degree in physiology and a degree in medicine.
Our teacher of Persian literature was Mr Batman-Qilinj, whom I liked very
much; he had a sense of humour and stimulated and encouraged creative
writing. I remember once we were asked to write about the meaning of
"knowledge". I wrote a very short essay in Persian explaining that there are
two kinds of knowledge: one is acquired through one's own daily experience
and the other is taught by others. I trusted and preferred the former to the
latter. Mr Batman-Qilinj called me to his office and told me how he liked my
essay and encouraged me to write on the basis of my own experience rather
than relying on the information of others.
The school had a huge hall where we could gather to watch plays and films or
listen to speakers. I found some of the lectures very boring, especially
those of the principal, Mr Mirfakhrai, who taught French. He was a cultured,
upper-class man who tried to translate French novels into Tabriz life! Our
English teacher, Mr Lazar, on the other hand, was an Assyrian who told us
dirty jokes and often talked about his Chevrolet car, which was well known
in the city. He taught Essential English; and A Tale of Two Cities by
Charles Dickens. Mr Lazar was one of the best English teachers in Tabriz. He
had learned the language while working for the British in southern Iran
during the Second World War.
The students at Firdausi School came mostly from middle-class families. In
our class there were about 60 students, who were aiming to study either
engineering or medicine. I intended to study dentistry. My close friend Mr
Tisheh-Zan, who hoped to study medicine, combined his studies with helping
his father in their carpenter's shop. We often studied together at each
other's houses. At the end of the year we both passed the sixth-year
examinations. He could enrol at Tehran University to study medicine but I
could not. I decided to study in the Faculty of Arts - English and Persian
language and literature.
After the final examinations I decided to travel to other parts of Iran. I
went to Tehran with my brother Ismail, where he went to a lung specialist
for treatment of his tuberculosis. While attending the hospital he stayed
with my cousin in Tehran. I, meantime, visited Esfahan and Shiraz. I found
these ancient cities very beautiful and cultured. In Esfahan I visited
bluetiled mosques, which had the most beautiful mosaics on their domes;
there were also huge squares with fountains and wide streets with tall trees
and the bridge over the river, whose unusual architecture attracts many
visitors from all over the world. The bazaars in Esfahan were also full of
interesting handicrafts. A mosque in Esfahan However, I was anxious to visit
Shiraz before returning to Tehran to rejoin Ismail, so I did not stay there
more than a few days. |