Kader Abdolah - The House of the Mosque

‘Why would I object?’ said Aqa Jaan. ‘You were right to come home. You’re safer here than anywhere else. I can help you better here than in Tehran.’

‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘I don’t live here any more, but whenever I feel unsafe or insecure, you’re the first person I think of. This house has always been my haven. Thank you for giving me a sense of security. And for raising me. When I was living here, I didn’t really know who I was. Now I do. You’ve made me into the strong person I am today.’

Aqa Jaan was touched by Shahbal’s remarks. ‘Not only do you have a good head on your shoulders,’ he replied, ‘but you can also express your feelings.’

‘There’s something else I’d like to tell you,’ Shahbal said. ‘This afternoon, when the train pulled into Qom, I saw an incredible scene. Hundreds of young imams were holding a demonstration in the train station. They were standing on the tracks, blocking the trains, and shouting, “ La ilaha illa Allah! There is no God but Allah!”

‘I’ve never seen such a demonstration! Their voices were so strong and powerful! What I saw in Qom today was a totally new kind of resistance. The ayatollahs have changed their tactics. Imams who used to turn their backs on modern inventions like trains were now standing on the railway tracks. One young imam scaled the wall in the waiting room and pasted a picture of Khomeini over the shah’s portrait. Someday the great event we’ve all been waiting for is bound to happen… Have you been in touch with anyone in Qom?’

It was an unexpected question. No, he was no longer in touch with anyone in Qom, and no ayatollah had phoned him during the past year. Now that Shahbal had told him about the demonstration, he felt as if a train full of ayatollahs had left the station, and he had missed the train.

It was thirteen minutes to one when Muezzin heard footsteps in the alley. The footsteps sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place them. Then he heard someone fumbling at the lock on the front gate. He got out of bed, padded barefoot into Aqa Jaan’s study and whispered, ‘I heard a noise in the alley. Someone’s at the gate!’

Aqa Jaan immediately turned to Shahbal. ‘Go and hide in one of the minarets!’

Shahbal gave his father a quick kiss, went up to the roof, took a blanket out of the shed, opened the trapdoor in the left minaret, crawled inside and closed the door behind him.

Aqa Jaan saw a bewildered-looking Lizard standing in the middle of the courtyard. His clothes were soaking wet. ‘You can’t stay here!’ he whispered to him. ‘Go upstairs!’

Outwardly calm, Aqa Jaan strode to the gate and opened it. A man wearing a hat and a pair of dark glasses was standing on the pavement with a key in his hand. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Aqa Jaan couldn’t remember where he might have seen him.

‘I think we’ve met before,’ Aqa Jaan said, ‘but I don’t see very well in the dark. Can I help you?’

The man took off his hat. Only then did Aqa Jaan recognise him, though it took a moment for it to sink in. It was Khalkhal! He had aged.

‘ Salaam aleikum ,’ Khalkhal said.

For a moment Aqa Jaan wasn’t sure how to react. After all, Khalkhal had destroyed Sadiq’s life. He had abandoned her when she was pregnant with Lizard and had gone to Iraq to be with Khomeini. Now, after all these years, suddenly here he was again.

‘What can I do for you?’ Aqa Jaan said coolly, stepping outside and shutting the gate behind him.

‘I’ve been travelling round the country, spreading Khomeini’s message. This afternoon, I met with a group of merchants here in Senejan. I thought I’d see you there, and was surprised when you didn’t turn up. I’m leaving later tonight for Iraq, but I have one request: may I speak to my wife?’

‘She’s not your wife, not legally. When a man abandons his wife and has no contact with her for several years, the marriage is officially dissolved. You’re an imam; you ought to know that. You have no right to see her.’

‘I know, but I thought she might be willing to see me anyway.’

‘I’ll decide that! And I’m telling you, she won’t see you!’ Aqa Jaan heatedly exclaimed.

‘But I have a son, and I do have a right to see him.’

‘That’s true. But it would be better for us all if you turned and left and we could forget you ever came here,’ Aqa Jaan said in a slightly calmer tone of voice.

‘To be honest, I wasn’t planning to come. I was already in my car, ready to drive off, when I realised I couldn’t go without seeing them. I understand your anger, but you know that I was forced to leave my family because of the intolerable political situation in this country. The Americans are running the show. We must be prepared to sacrifice ourselves, our wives and our children in order to overthrow the regime, or else we’ll never achieve our goal. I had no choice, but I can live with the consequences.’

‘I don’t have to stand here in the middle of the night and listen to your drivel!’ Aqa Jaan snapped, and he pointed to the street.

Khalkhal glared at Aqa Jaan from behind his dark glasses. ‘If you want me to go, I will,’ he said. ‘But we’ll meet again some day!’

And he turned on his heel and left.

Aqa Jaan went to bed and told Fakhri about his unexpected meeting with Khalkhal. They discussed it briefly, but were both too tired to go into it further.

The next evening Fakhri knocked on the door of Aqa Jaan’s study. ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Come in,’ said Aqa Jaan, a little taken aback.

Fakhri came in and stood in the middle of the room to deliver her bombshell: ‘I think that Zinat has been in touch with Khalkhal, and that Khalkhal has been meeting Sadiq, with Zinat’s knowledge and consent.’

‘What? I can’t believe it!’ Aqa Jaan said, stunned. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I suspect that Khalkhal and Zinat are in cahoots. I think that he’s even put her in contact with Qom. Zinat has had a taste of power. I can tell from the way she’s been acting. Have you noticed that she’s stopped going to our mosque? Beware of Zinat; I don’t trust her. She’s been doing some strange things lately.’

It might very well be true, thought Aqa Jaan, but how could I not have noticed?

‘I shouldn’t be telling you this,’ Fakhri continued, ‘but now that this has come out, I think there’s something else you ought to know. Khalkhal and Sadiq met quite recently, and, if you ask me, they did more than just talk. Sadiq has a bounce in her step again.’

‘What? That’s impossible! It’s just silly women’s gossip.’

‘No, it’s not. You notice every little change in the bazaar, so why can’t you see the changes in your own household? Every time I hear Zinat’s footstep on the stairs, I automatically reach for my chador. I don’t dare wear any make-up when she’s around. It’s like having a strange man look at me. I don’t know what she’s up to or who she’s in touch with, but she looks at people in a different way. I have the same feeling when our devotional group gets together. Nobody dares to speak up when Zinat’s there. I used to enjoy our meetings, but now they’re dominated by a bunch of rude women who talk about nothing but the sharia. And Zinat is the ringleader.’

Aqa Jaan sank deeper into his chair.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Who’s there?’

‘The cinema is smoking.’ Qodsi’s voice could be heard from the other side of the door.

‘What are you doing out so late at night?’ Aqa Jaan asked.

He jumped up and opened the door.

A thick layer of smoke was hanging over the centre of town, and fire engines were racing noisily towards the fire.