Kader Abdolah - My Father's Notebook

No answer.

“Who are you anyway?” he called angrily. “His new wife?”

“Me? The hunter’s wife? Don’t be ridiculous! After that remark, you can be sure I won’t open the door.”

Discouraged, he rode off.

“Stranger! Wait a moment,” she called and came downstairs.

She opened the gate. Kazem Khan rode inside.

Just then he was struck by an idea: maybe she was the woman they’d been looking for. But the idea disappeared as quickly as it had come.

He got down from his horse. The woman led him into the opium room, where the hunter, his pipe in his hand, had fallen asleep beside the cold brazier.

She lit a few dry almond twigs and got a fire going. Then she transferred the glowing twigs into a clean brass brazier, placed a few chunks of pure yellow opium on a porcelain plate and fetched a bowl of fresh dates. “Here, these are for you,” she said and disappeared.

Kazem Khan was speechless. He’d been smoking opium since he was a young man, but in all that time no one had ever presented him with such a clean opium kit.

“What’s your name?”

“Tina,” she said from the adjoining room.

“What?”

“Tina.”

“Is that a Persian name? Or is it a name from the other side of the mountains, from Russia?”

She didn’t know. Kazem Khan smoked and thought: no, it probably wouldn’t work. Even if he promised her a mountain of gold, she wouldn’t agree to marry Akbar.

He smoked and blew the smoke out through the shutters and into the cold night air. Something will eventually unfold, he thought. Life, a miracle, a secret. Or maybe it won’t, maybe I’m mistaken.

“Tina,” he called again. “Where are you? Your name is Tina, isn’t it? Come here, I have something for you.”

She appeared with a fresh pot of tea and a bowl of brown sugar, which had come from far, far away.

“Is this the hunter’s house or is it paradise? Thank you. I have a turquoise ring for you. I have no children — no sons or daughters — but you could be my daughter. Go ahead, put it on your finger. Why don’t you come and sit by me?”

Tina warily sat down across from him and tried on the ring, which had a beautiful turquoise stone. Then, apparently having decided that the old man wasn’t serious, she started to get up.

“Please don’t go. You’re the hunter’s daughter, aren’t you? Good, may I ask you a question? Do you live here with your father, or are you just visiting?”

He saw the sudden fear in her eyes. She handed him back the ring and ran out of the room.

Just then the hunter woke up.

“My God, look who’s here! Is this a dream, or are you real?”

“It’s a dream,” Kazem Khan said. “As for me, I’m in paradise. Your daughter let me in. Come sit over here. The fire is as red as a ruby. That Tina of yours is worth her weight in gold.”

“I’m at your service. It’s an honour to have Kazem Khan as my guest,” the hunter replied. “Tina,” he called, “prepare a meal for this gentleman.”

Kazem Khan took out his wallet and tucked a few bills under the carpet on which the hunter was sitting.

“Heavens, no. You’re my guest. You’re welcome in my house.”

“I insist, hunter, but thank you. Anyway, you’re lucky to have such a nice daughter.”

“Nice? She’s a shrew.”

“A shrew?”

Kazem Khan passed him the pipe. After the hunter had taken a few puffs and relaxed, he continued. “She sits up on the roof like a tiger and won’t let anyone through the gate.”

“Does she live here with you? I mean, is she married?”

“Married? She’s been married three times. She hates men. If you even mention the subject, she screams, and the women in the neighbouring houses go running up to their roofs and shake their brooms. They think I’m trying to sell her to some old opium addict. Hey, Tina, where are you?”

While millions of stars twinkled in the sky, Tina served the aging poet a delicious meal. She treated him with such extraordinary kindness that her father was amazed.

When the hunter fell asleep again, Kazem Khan called to her.

“Tina? Please sit down. Here, take the ring, it’s yours. I’d like to talk to you. I have a problem and you may be the only person who can help me.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Listen, child. I’m going to ask you a few questions. You can answer or not, as you please. I’m going to spend the night here, then go back home in the morning. Who knows? Maybe it was fate that brought me to this house. Maybe you’re the one we’ve been looking for. I have a son … well, actually he’s my nephew. A strong, handsome young man from a good family. But we have a problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

“He’s a deaf-mute. And we still haven’t found him a wife. We’re looking for an intelligent woman. Do you understand me?”

They talked until deep in the night.

The next morning, as soon as the sun’s first rays hit the snow, Kazem Khan mounted his horse. Though it still wasn’t safe to travel, he rode through the snow to Saffron Village.

“Where’s Akbar?”

He went from house to house in search of his nephew, and finally found him at a customer’s.

“Come with me, Akbar! No, leave that. I want you to go to the bathhouse, then put on your Isfahan suit and comb your hair with brilliantine. Here, take the fastest horse. Don’t forget to put some dried rose petals in your pockets. Hurry, Akbar! Now ride with me. Here’s a necklace. As soon as she opens the door, throw back your shoulders and hold your head high! Then take the necklace out of your pocket and give it to her.”

They reached the hunter’s house at nightfall. Kazem Khan knocked on the door. Tina opened it.

“Here he is,” Kazem Khan said aloud and he pointed at Aga Akbar, dressed in his good black suit and looking down at Tina from his horse. Neither of them knew what to do next. Even the experienced Kazem Khan was at a loss for words.

“Come in,” Tina said. She turned to Aga Akbar and welcomed him with a gesture.

Kazem Khan’s eyes filled with tears.

“Excellent. You’re an excellent woman. Come, Akbar, get down from your horse. Stop staring. We’re going into the house. But first, Tina, my daughter, I have something to say to you. Tomorrow our family will be coming to pick you up and soon you’ll be our bride. We’ll take you home and give you a hearth of your own. But I warn you that your life may be hard. Or maybe it won’t be. There’s no way of knowing in advance. I do know, however, that it won’t be easy, especially not in the beginning. Now you’ve seen your future husband. Take your time, you can still change your mind. Go stroll by the cedars and think it over. I’ll wait for you.”

But Tina didn’t need to take a stroll. She walked up to Aga Akbar and gestured, “Go inside. My father will be here shortly.”

“Oh, my God, oh, merciful God, what a moment, what a wonderful woman! Where are you, hunter? Roll out the carpets and stoke up the fire.”

The horses arrived the following day. The family brought gold, silver, clothes, cloth, walnuts, bread, meat, sheep, chickens, eggs and honey. All for the hunter. They dressed Tina in a flowery white chador and helped her mount the horse. No party, no songs, no guests — just a bride on a horse. It was as if they were afraid to celebrate, to express their feelings.

Don’t say a word, just go, you read in their eyes. Nevertheless, the imam recited a short melodious sura: “ Ar-rahman, alam al-Qur’an, Khalaqa al-insan,’ allamahu al-bayan. Ash-shams wa al-qamaru be-husbanin, wa as-sama’a rafa ’ha wa waza’a al-mizan .”

The bride was taken to Akbar’s house. “Here’s your home, your husband, your bed.”