Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

“Don’t be scared. Take a step. And another. Yes, another. Now just keep yourself up like that. You’re not a cripple, my dear. You can do it!”

Hajer walked in circles around the room. Then she suddenly sat down. Rather, she threw herself down and began to cry.

“My feet! My feet hurt! Why do I have to wear shoes at all! I don’t want to … I don’t!”

Before replying to her daughter, Mergan ran and quickly shut the door. She couldn’t let the sound of Hajer crying be heard outside. She then came and sat with her knees against her daughter’s, put the girl’s head against her chest, and calmed her. Hajer slowly stopped crying. She knew what her mother wanted. Mergan took her daughter’s head from her chest and carefully wiped the tears from her eyes before they could spoil the rouge on her cheeks. But it was difficult to see Hajer’s face, as the house was dark. Abbas’ white head, set on his bony shoulders, was all that could be seen, quiet and motionless.

Mergan suddenly rose, ran to the door, and opened it. Molla Aman was standing in the doorway. Calmly and clearly he spoke, “Why is the door closed?”

“I was dressing Hajer.”

“It’s night already. You’re not ready yet?”

“We’re nearly done.”

Mergan ran to Hajer, took her hand, and pulled her toward the light from the open door. She took another look at her face. Oh no! Her tears had made streaks in the rouge and powder that Mergan had applied to her face. Mergan carefully and calmly wiped under Hajer’s eyes with the edge of her scarf. Hajer’s tears were about to drip from her eyelashes.

Molla Aman said, “Why don’t you bring in a lamp for this house?”

“Honestly, I just forgot.”

Mergan went and brought out the lantern. A gray light filled the room. But now things could be seen a little better. Molla Aman sat leaning against the wall and looked over at Abbas, who was sitting quietly, not moving at all. Molla Aman wanted to speak to him, but couldn’t. What could he say? He rose from where he was and went to pour some feed in his donkey’s trough.

Mergan was done. She felt as if she should sit for a bit, but didn’t feel as if she could stay in one place. Instead, she kept circling around herself, coming and going, for no particular reason. She went to the pantry, then into the yard, then up to the alley and back to the house again. Then she thought she would put a bit of incense in the fire, and the smoke from the incense filled the room. Molla Aman shook the bits of hay off his sleeves, then stepped in the room, intoning a prayer. Hajer remained sitting against the wall. Molla Aman sat to one side and lit a cigarette.

Where are they? Why haven’t they arrived yet?

This was what his eyes seemed to be saying. He finished his cigarette, put it out under his heel, and then left the house. Night had begun to spread. Molla Aman stood for a while by the alley, then came back. He was anxious. He stood by the door and said, “What do you say we go over to the groom’s house to see what is going on?”

Mergan said, “That’s just not done. How would it look? They have to come to seek the hand of their new bride and take her, not the other way around.”

“I’m just worried that woman … Maybe she’s pulled some sort of trick?”

“No! Wait a second. What’s that sound? Ah … I hear something …”

Molla Aman ran out to the alley. The light of a lantern was accompanying shadowy outlines. Molla Aman stepped forward and then suddenly stopped. He saw Raghiyeh, Ali Genav’s wife, limping ahead with a crutch under her right arm. But it seemed she was also holding something in her left hand, a tray. In the middle of the tray was a copper bowl, shining with a dim light emanating from inside it, the light of embers. Beside her was the groom himself. Ali Genav was carrying the lantern and was walking slowly to keep pace with his wife. Behind them, Karbalai Doshanbeh, and beside him Hajj Salem followed. At the back, Moslem was following behind his father. As they arrived, Karbalai Doshanbeh stepped beside Raghiyeh and took a few seeds of incense from the tray and placed them into the embers. Hajj Salem called out a prayer. Molla Aman went to greet them; he was very clearly pleased. If all went well tonight, he would be able to load his things and leave first thing in the morning with a clear conscience.

They came into the narrow yard of the house. Mergan brought out her lantern. Raghiyeh stood leaning on her crutch. Mergan also poured a few seeds of incense onto the embers. Molla Aman entered the house, took Hajer by the hand, and brought her out. Hajer was walking with difficulty. She could hardly even stand up straight. Mergan held her by her elbow as the group turned to leave the house, lit by their two lanterns. The surface of the alley was uneven, so the shoes of the bride were that much more unwieldy. They moved slowly; in a way, it was good that Hajer could not walk fast, as Raghiyeh was also pulling herself ahead only with difficulty. That was why they had been late even traversing that short distance to the house. Once they arrived, Mergan took Hajer into the pantry of Ali Genav’s house. The nuptial bedroom was to be there. Ali Genav had prepared the bed already. Hajer took off her shoes, and Mergan came out. The guests sat in the room just beside the pantry. Raghiyeh did not join the guests; she was standing by the oven holding onto her crutch. Mergan went to prepare the dinner. Raghiyeh was silent, but despite this Mergan was still uneasy. As a woman, she understood her perfectly.

God forbid it were I! I should bite my tongue!

Mergan could easily imagine a day when this weak and broken woman would try to harm Hajer.

The meat was cooked. Mergan took the pot and brought it into the room. Ali Genav had laid out a cloth and had set the bread and yogurt on it. Moslem and his father were on one side. Molla Aman and Karbalai Doshanbeh were on the other side. Ali Genav and Mergan were to sit on another side. Raghiyeh stayed outside.

The dinner did not take long. Ali Genav quickly cleaned up afterward. Everyone knew that the wedding dinner is usually a different kind of assembly, but in this case it was proportionate to the situation at hand.

“May the blessings of your table be increased. May God bless you!”

“Amen. Amen.”

Hajj Salem had intoned the first prayer. Karbalai Doshanbeh offered the Amens.

Molla Aman found an excuse to break up the gathering, and so helped up Karbalai Doshanbeh to take him outside. Ali Genav pressed a coin into the hand of Moslem and helped him up as well. The men went out and Ali Genav accompanied them to the alley and then returned. As per tradition, Mergan was to stay behind, but Ali Genav also encouraged her to leave.

“Don’t worry, Raghiyeh is here … If we need anything …”

Why does the bride’s mother usually stay behind? To confirm her daughter’s good fortune? But what else could she want?

“Take the leftover stew and give it to the boys. Don’t leave them at home all alone!”

* * *

Mergan’s sons were sitting in the darkness, silent and blind. Mergan relit the lamp that had gone out in the alley. Abrau was leaning against a wall. It looked as if he’d just come back from work. These days his clothes were, head to foot, covered in oil. He spoke much less, as if he had suddenly aged. He had grown serious. He acted older than his age. It was as if something had been added to him, something that Mergan didn’t want to know about. She simply sensed that now she was dealing with a man rather than a boy. A man who in some ways was trying to become a stranger to her. There were aspects to Abrau’s life that were no longer in Mergan’s hands. They were now in the hands of others. It was as if he came from somewhere else. He was a stranger to Mergan, but strangely also a cause for her to feel proud. What can be more pleasurable for a mother than to see her son become a man? Even if this son, this man, has in a sense also stabbed her in the back by selling her portion of their land in his name.