”the sun was dead and no one knew that the sad dove which escaped from hearts was Faith”

Southeast of Iran, the land of  infertile  moments, the land of sadness and poignant human challenges with the nature and injustice, the land of remoteness and dark sorrow, the land of sand, wind, lizard and black scorpions, was the place which I was destined to live Two years of my life in its boiling days and its freezing nights as a soldier. Sistan and Baluchistan the southeastern province of Iran, neighbouring with Afghanistan and Pakistan, has always been really a bad lot for any 18 years-old male Iranians who must serve Two years in one of the military forces as a mandatory duty in accordance with the rules and regulations. As a relatively adventurous person I was not that worried about my unfortunate lot which was going to send me to the most dangerous place in Iran; but my family were obviously worried about that, especially my father who had previously been working as a lorry driver in that area for One and half a year; but there was no way to escape from the destiny and thus I had to go to add another challenge to my thoroughly challenging life.

Zabol, a really awful and tiny city, located in the middle of a mean and dark desert which is enough generous to yield to nothing but wind, sand, and ugly Lizards and fatal black scorpions, as the remotest place in the province of Sistan and Baluchistan which I was sent to for a Three-months training course. It was in the middle of a very furious and cold Autumn, the wind and sand were decidedly to welcome us to the region as good as they could! So they were lashing onto the body of the dilapidated bus which in fact was moving on the road like a desperate Turtle, tracking the smell of water and sea. Some of my fellow soldiers where sleeping, some of them were chatting, regardless to the wind and sand which were furiously intended to show off their dominating existence in the region. The wind, twisting and whistling, was obviously to stimulate every single grain of sand to participate in its illusive dance, while the mean and small bushes were desperately trying to save themselves of being uprooted by the tyrannic wind.

it was 4pm that the dilapidated bus stopped in front of a so called restaurant which were much more similar to a deserted stable. It was just hunger which could make me to accept that dirty and strange place as a restaurant. An old and shaggy man as the chef was enough disgusting to make me forget all about hunger and eating; it was the same for the other fellow soldiers who would rather to buy some biscuits from the Small neighbouring shop instead of taking the great risk of eating in that odd restaurant which in fact was a place for the lizards to make a fabulous show of their incredible skills in hunting the various flies which were abundantly moving on the dirty walls of that so- called restaurant.

” just Four hours more , dear little soldiers, then we will be in Zabol, so do not be worried, just keep chatting” He was the bus driver who indirectly was trying to encourage the little soldiers who were obviously effected by the hallucinative   atmosphere of the region. dilapidated bus, completely covered by dust, was again on the road, compelled to move and barely moaning like an old turtle , wandered in the middle of a dark desert, desperate and frustrated with itself and its destiny. It was apparently calmness which was drawn on the faces of my fellow soldiers; but the truth was something else; it was the fear, the uncertainty, the unknown horror, the ambiguous hesitation, the vulnerability, the bewilderment which we have been undergoing as a result of living in a society in which religion as a denigrating tool has been painfully succeeded to constitute a fatal failure in our observations and recognition. It was obviously an unknown and intricate fear which was going to make the youth and braveness faded away on the faces of my fellow soldiers. a sense of being lost , seemed to me a much more accurate expression than a fear of being exposed to a physical hurt, to explain what was going on in the minds of my fellow soldiers.

The dilapidated bus, quite adverse to its driver,s promise , was not able to get us to the awful city of Zabol before 11pm. It was almost impossible to see the city through the dusty bus’ windows. So, the young soldiers , mute and tired, unwillingly were trying to get up in order to see the first aspects of the city through the bus’   windscreen, but it also was not so effective as the twisting wind -which was still on its rampage, had made an obscure and milky scene before the bus which its dim headlights were barely able to help the driver to see just a few metres before the bus.

as we stepped out of the bus, It was the wind which was actually on its climax to welcome us as the newcomers , obliged to listen to its odd music which was sort of moaning and melancholic whispers. A few minutes later two sergeants turned up, one of them short and somewhat stout with a big mustache on his freckly face, the other one tall and slim with a thick black beard on his long face. the short one, all of a sadden, shouted while coming to us, obviously intended to show us how he would be serious in dealing with us as new soldiers : ”Hey, mother f****rs come here! come on wankers!” The soldiers, shocked by the insult, bored by the freezing wind, heads down, went to the large gate which the Two sergeants had already stood by. It was the bearded -long face who was going to show off his innate talent at applying the vulgarism language to welcoming us. So , he yelled at us: ” hey goats! keep your heads up, look at there- gesturing with his hand up towards the big sign over the gate.- All of a sadden all of us burst into laughter; it was a large and very funny painting, showing a bird, a big cockerel , laying eggs!! look at it carefully, it is a cockerel, but we made him to lay eggs! It means here in this barrack, we do not bear with cheeky boys like you; it means we will make you to lay eggs, like hens!!” ”Stand in a line.” It was the short and stout sergeant who shouted again, while kicking the young boys as if they were really some animals that should necessarily be kicked to move towards their folds.

As we entered the wast barrack  under the outrageous treatment of the Two sergeants, a row of huge buildings caught my eyes; they were very similar to that stable-like restaurant -which was in fact a cosy place for the lizards. A few minutes later we were standing in front of the one of those huge buildings; a floodlight, surrounded by strange and big flies, had illuminated the wooden entrance door of the building; it was shining as if it had been polished a few hours ago. I found some sort of a very delicate art within the structure of that big and well-designed door. all of a sadden I felt a sharp pain on my back, – while I was thinking about the wood which had been used to make such a precious door-, and before realising what happened, I fell on the ground, a blinding pain let me know that it was my face which had touched the sandy ground , before my hands could be of any use. Half an hour later I was told of being kicked on the back by the short and stout sergeant.

The taste of blood in my mouth was much more boring than the cold wind which was mischievously trying to penetrate into the large building via its numerous small windows which most of them had no more than just a small piece of glass , clinging somewhere to their corners. My teeth were unharmed, it was what that I realised, while lying down on the bare and metallic bed. It was enough for me to forget about my swollen nose which certainly were going to give me a ridiculous feature for the next couple of days. As a result of laziness and undutifulness of the Two sergeants, we had to sleep on the bare and metallic beds without even a blanket over the night.

I was in the middle of an awful dream that a shrill sound woke me up. All the lights were turned on. My tired eyes were barely able to see an obscure human-shape, standing in the middle of the dormitory; as the shrill sound echoed in the cold air for the second time, my tired eyes was obliged to see a real bulk, dressed awkwardly in a full-green colour uniform, and wore a pair of black boots which were undoubtedly of the biggest size which I had ever seen before. It was enough frightening to prevent me of making an imagination of consequences of being kicked by those awful boots. ” stand up. stand up” he shouted, as he was moving his bulk towards me; I pulled myself together abruptly as I knew it would be too much for me to receive the Second kick in just a few hours. there was a fluttering in the dormitory, and then an absolute silence, stretched on the sleepy, tired, and withered young faces which were obviously afraid of being insulted again. The bulky sergeant, with a shaggy and round head which with Two big eyes was very similar to the head of a young and sturdy calf, looked at the sleepy faces while he was walking on the concrete floor with a great care to tread every single grain of sand – which were actually swept in by the wind, in order to make a cracking sound, and perhaps giving a charismatic air to his awkwardly big body. It was his shrill voice – which adverse to his bulk, was not so frightening, that echoed in the silence of dormitory, asking the soldiers to become ready for Namaz( prayer). He added: from now on you must get up at 3:30 am to say the morning prayer.

So suffocating, as hypocritical that was that first prayer in that awful garrison, that I had no reason not to feel a great hatred towards whatever was branded with the name of God and religion. Although I knew that my hatred was somehow blind and irrational, but I had enough knowledge to relatively justify my hatred and getting out of the negative effects of that intricate and somewhat poignant feeling. I, as a teenager, crazy with books, reading and understanding, had begun to read various books when I was just Ten. ” Twenty Four hours between sleep and wakefulness” was the first book that I read. It was a very bitter story ; a story of homelessness, wandering, and poverty. As the first child of a populated and poor family and familiar with poverty, I cried for hours for the poor teenager in that story. That book left a great and seminal effect on my personality, observation and existence. The final scene of that book remained in my mind for ever: The poor and homeless teenager, hungry, frustrated and absolutely worn-out as a result of walking for hours aimlessly in the streets, came across a toy shop, looking at the expensive toys through the shop’s window and watching garish people who were paying a fortune for a small toy; meanwhile a machine-gun caught his eyes , a big and beautiful one; and all of a sadden he wished that machine-gun was a real one, so that he could break the shop’s window and would take the machine-gun and shoot at all those rich and garish people; but at the end of his imagination he came to this beautiful conclusion that no machine-gun can be the right tool for getting rid of homelessness and poverty. It was in fact the first beautiful and rational philosophy which I learnt and from then on a surge of devotion for knowledge made me involved in a serious challenge to understand more and more.

Back to the dormitory, we were told to stand beside our beds to receive our khaki uniforms and leather boots. Meanwhile an officer, dressed in a different uniform with those of Three sergeants which we had already seen, came in. His blue and tidy uniform plus his meticulously polished boots and Three golden stars on his square shoulders ,made me sure that there would not be an other show of vulgarism and insulting to watch; as in fact he was one of the members of police organisation belong to the previous regime which had recently been combined with one of the most notorious police organisations in the world, which was known as the Committee of Islamic Revolution and had been established by the Imam Khomeini just a few days after the victory of revolution. He stopped walking, right in the middle of the vast and cold dormitory, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds, then, down round the numerous and almost broken and open windows and finally uttered a sentence, while obviously avoiding eye-contact with the young soldiers: ” my sons, welcome to your house; this place is going to be your house for a while, so try to get used to it as soon as possible” promising to come back again in a few hours to sort out the other problems, he left us alone with the Three sergeants who were actually the members of the previously police organisation , known as Committee of Islamic revolution which its members had been intentionally chosen from between the crudest and cruellest bullies in order to deliberately suppress the people via a dirty way of psychological denigration and contemptuous treatment.

” put whatever you have brought with yourselves on your beds; move your asses, wankers” It was the bulky sergeant, with the calf-like head, who issued this order. It was actually the fear which made the young soldiers to put their luggage on their beds in a flash, and standing beside their beds like stony statues. As the other Two sergeants- the stout one with his freckly face and the tall one with his long and bearded face- were searching through the pile of luggage on the beds, the bulky sergeant came to me just to remind me that I was already a soldier and no soldier had the right of putting his hands in his pockets. He did it in the most possible outrageous manner by calling me son of a bitch; and then said to me ” well, let me see what you have in your bags” he just screamed as he opened my second bag which was full of books; and said to me: ” so, you are a fucking Christian ! Why did not you tell me when I asked you to become ready for Namaz(prayer)? why did you come to mosque with us? You fucking bastard! I will let you know!” I, puzzled, disturbed, teased and absolutely harassed replied: ” I am not a christian” Shut your dirty mouth! He replied furiously while he was turning the pages of the book in his hands. ” you got Bible and Two other books about Jesus Christ in your bag and yet telling me that you are not a christian” He added in a sarcastic language; and before I could add any more word to explain the matter, it was his wide and heavy hand which lashed on my already painful face . all of a sadden I felt blind as a sharp pain rushed from my swollen nose up to my brain; and then it was blood, warm and dark, running down on my white jacket. A pure sense of innocency, imparted by my blood, was circulating in every atom of my body; so, I was feeling free , light, and multiplied in existence, floating on the surface of current moments which seemed were patiently going to help me to ge to a rational and rich way of concluding my struggle, as I obviously could not sense any feeling of hatred towards that bulky and impolite sergeant.

”Why did he slap you so savagely?” It was one of my fellow soldiers who asked me this question while he was washing my face in the dirty and stinky toilet. The bleeding was not going to stop. ” the only way to stop it is keeping your head under this cold water for at least Ten minutes” my fellow soldier said. As I held my head under the cold water, my body began to shake and after a few minutes I felt faint as the bleeding seemed far more serious than I could imagine. I knew what would be the consequences of bleeding for me, as I had been suffering from a minor anaemia, so I tried to let my fellow soldier knows about my really threatening condition; but as I turned to him, his face became a distorted picture in my mind, before I could utter even a word. And it was not before Four hours later that I came to in the hospital to see myself laying down as motionless and mute as a real dead body. As I was trying to open my eyes, a dim figure, dressed fully in white, was approaching my bed; and seconds later I felt a strange warmth, so invigorating, as elevating and genuine that I could not accept that it had actually been a worldly feeling, inserting my body and my soul via a fleshy and beautiful hand. Then, I saw the owner of that warm and beautiful hand. She was an unbelievably beautiful woman; her thick and black eyebrows gave her an air of mythical beauty. Her big , black and shining eyes was so inspiring and hopeful which instantly caused me to forget what had happened to me. She looked at me on the eyes and then smiled and said ” thanks to God, you seem very well. A blood-vessel have been hurt and you have lost a lot of blood; but your body is very strong, so I think you will be fully recovered in a few days” then she added , while connecting another serum to my hand: ”There are here a sergeant and Two soldiers to take you back to the garrison, but I am not going to let them do so. You must stay here for at least Three days more.” It was just unbelievable for me to see the bulky sergeant standing in a few metres away from me with a pair of handcuff in his hand, in which I had been slapped with. The beautiful doctor turned to the sergeant, while her twisted thick eyebrows gave her face an absolute air of charisma, and said to him: ” he is my patient. He has lost a lot of blood. So, I do not allow you to take him so soon” the bulky sergeant, blushed and furious, replied: ” we think that he should be an anti-revolution; and the worse, an anti-Islam. So, If he escaped, you, surely would be held responsible for that” with an other twist of eyebrows, the beautiful doctor responded in an incisive tone: ” although what you are telling me is absolutely nonsensical, but I will take on the responsibility for this boy staying here, while showing the way out to the bulky sergeant who became embarrassed and was awkwardly trying to pull himself together” ”ok, I will leave, but these Two soldiers stay here to watch him around the clock!” said the bulky sergeant and left.

No wise man gets tempted to escape while in such a funny pyjamas; I said to one of the soldiers who had come follow me to the toilet, while looking at my pale face in the mirror. ” I am a soldier, and I do my duty. I am sorry for disturbing you” replied the soldier. seeing how the trace of bulky sergeant’s hand was imprinted on the right side of my face, was enough harrowing to cause a sadden and sharp pain in my nose; and then an intricate feeling occurred to me; an air of self-pitying was part of that intricate feeling which in fact was going to involve me into an other beautiful and seminal struggle. Although I was very young, but I was relatively capable of digesting my mental challenges in a reasonable manner. Finally I came up with this idea that taking on any kind of self-pity in the way of understanding would cause a great failure in the process of self-realization. So, I took it as a serious note which definitely could be effective in the way of shaping and formation of my personality and trends.

In the way back to my bed, I saw Two men, sitting on the wooden bench at the end of the narrow corridor . As I approached them, they turned to me. Their excessively confident faces with the short and meticulously trimmed beards, made me sure that they were members of Security  Service. All of a sadden I felt a sharp pain in my spine, while my heart was nearly going to let me down , as my already paralysed mind flashed back to remind me of how the only son of our neighbour in Shiraz had been taken away from his house by the Security Service’s agents and his dead body had been brought back to his totally crushed family after Two days. I, like a frightened sparrow, looking in the eyes of Two vipers, had just One desire left to think about: to be vanished! to be vanished! In a delirious tone, this word was echoing in a far distance, in a near distance, in somewhere, in nowhere of my mind. ”What is going on here? ”It was the pleasant sound which I had already recorded it in my mind. The beautiful doctor, just dashed to the end of the corridor, where the Two Security  Service’s agents now were standing up as their unbelievably intimidating eyes were going to switch into a professional look. As  the doctors’ presence had already given me a chance of taking a deep breath and pulling myself together, I looked at them more bravely than before I did through an absolutely obscure vision. In their similarities to viper, I had no reason to make any doubt as I could see no human attributes in their glowing eyes. Both of them were tall and slim and worn in dark jackets. One of them had a small and black cap on his big head which seemed to be a heavy burden to his slim body, and the other one had a big black spot right beside his nose which had given his face a strange smack of hypocrisy. ” we have to  take him right now” he was the one with the black cap on his head who let the beautiful doctor to know how he was serious in his request, as he imparted his intention in the most possible tone of confidence and certainty; and before the beautiful doctor could make an answer even in her mind to reply, the other one, raised his hand to stop her . ” so, please, please give me just twenty minutes to check his condition” the beautiful doctor said. ” OK, but just Ten minutes” replied one of them. As the beautiful doctor shut the door behind us, I saw an other Two viper-like men standing on the other side of the window; and It was actually why the Two viper-like men inside had not make any objection to closing the door by the doctor.

”listen” said the beautiful doctor as the agitation had made her fabulous face much more beautiful. ” I know what is your problem; I have been told about it. And I have already learnt a little about you; I found your diary in the breast-pocket of your jacket . you are a very promising writer. You have got a fantastic ability to observe and recognising on different issues, plus possessing a prose of a very high quality. I have read all your writings, so I think It had better I keep it with myself because the contents in your diary are of a nature which can give these people more excuses to put you in a real trouble. I have experienced facing with these strange and stony-face people during the time that I was studying in Tehran university; so, I advise you not to dispute with them over your beliefs. Just try to take on an apologetic and somewhat ignorant position against them. and above all, if you are not a member of any political party, I am sure you will get through this problem with your ability at reasoning and justification.” She handed me a blue bag, while telling me that my jacket was not washable and asking me to change my clothes. As I unzipped the blue bag and saw the clothes in it which were exactly of a pleasant correspondence with my taste, I felt a great sense of intimacy and attachment towards that fabulous woman who really was a genuine human being, privileged by a dual beauty, the beauty of inside and the beauty of outside.” my name is Zahra. I wish you the best of all. I wish to see you soon again.” She said so , while one of the Two agents were handcuffing me.

I had already been blindfolded when I was pushed into the car. Perhaps it was the blindfold which had given me a chance of concentrating on my mind to relatively find a rational answer for such a mischievous conduct which definitely could not  repose  on any kind of human rationality and consistency of mind. It seemed to me somehow strange to see myself being arrested by the most influential security organisation just for possessing some books which in fact had been inevitably chosen due to my serious intention of studying the world literature and knowing about the world which I did belong to. Honestly, I was not able to dispose the words in a cohesive way for getting to a relevant conclusion due the oddness of the issue.

” are you christian?’ this question was asked by the man who was sitting on the other side of the iron table which definitely had been the only witness of the most nonsensical and inhuman questions being asked in that dark and grave-like room. I was not able to see his face as the strong lamp which were hanged over the table was angled towards me. No, I am not a christian. I replied. ” you are lying like a Dog!” he responded. I, mused: Likening a human being to a dog in way of telling lies, is not so fair as a grateful and loyal animal like Dog never lies. ” I am not lying, sir” I answered. ” so, you are a Muslim! Ok. I am wondering if you make a virtue of necessity by reciting somethings from Quran” he said to me, in a mocking tone. I, immediately, began to recite from different chapters of Quran and ended with adding that Quran encourages human beings to look for knowledge in every corner of the universe. An absolute silence occurred for a few seconds. and then in a different tone he said: ” and else?” , I continued: – while aware of consequences of applying my own opinions to my responses in a critical way, on the final decision which was going to be made about me-, ” the essence of Quran and Islam is based on wisdom through a metaphysical philosophy” , and again I concluded with adding an other thoughtful religious quotation : ” search for knowledge and wisdom from cradle to grave”, thereby, I was trying to indirectly justify my ardent passion for reading books in general, and in particular for books about Christianity and Jesus. The next question that was asked by him, left no doubt for me that he was one the most elite interrogators in its own kind: ”what do you mean by telling THE ESSENCE OF QURAN AND ISLAM?” I , suddenly, realised that I had gone a little too far with my explanations, by forgetting the doctor’s advice on the necessity of performing an ignorant personality against these viper-like people. So, I had to compensate for my failure in being ignorant; thus I answered : ” I mean every thing in Islam is OK!”

” you know, you are an unlucky boy just because of being a Muslim in this case as you have already proved it to me. You know, being a Muslim and reading such books which you can not deny the meticulousness that you have applied to your notes on them in your notepad, means that you have already adopted the new belief, I mean you are a converted and surely you have an intention of transferring your opinions to others. Yes, it is a very nasty intention which surely you will pay for it; yes you will pay a very high price for it!” the weight which he put on HIGH PRICE , honestly caused a very terrible tingle in all my cells. ” Last temptation of Christ- Recrucified Jesus- The philosophy of Christianity and the Bible, these books plus your digests on them on your notepad are obvious proofs which will leave no room to make any doubt that you do not believe in Islam no longer.” I, in a stammering tone asked him for being allowed to give the relevant explanations on my books and my intention of reading them. In a jeering tone, he said: ” OK! OK! Let me know! Fill me in” I , still struggling to over come my stammering tongue, said to him : ” I have chosen these books just because of their writer who is one of the greatest writers in the world. You know , Sir, I am interested in writing ; so, I have to know the elites in this issue. Therefor the Greek writer , Nikos Kazantzakis as a writer who possessed a  specific style of writing is one of my favorite ones as I think studying his books can be of a great and beneficial help for me in the way of learning the clues and tricks of writing. This time, in amazingly a solemn tone , he said: ” is he just a religious writer?” I, unhappy with his tone! Replied: ” no sir, he was a philosopher, and a poet as well; but from my point of view his works on Christianity and Jesus are his unique works.” This time in a conclusive tone, he said to me: ” listen, you cockerel are trying to make the piss out of me; you have intentionally gathered these books as it is obvious that you have been looking for the philosophy of Christianity rather than of having been interested in reading the works of an specific writer. Therefore, I am going to send to the hell, where you will be privileged to associate with Jesus and the Greek writer; so that, you can learn all the clues and tricks of writing and of course you will learn a lot about the Christianity in a very practical way! Adding to this, that you have got an other book which is a forbidden book in this country, I have no reason not to believe that you can be a very harmful creature for this country and of course for the Islam.

”Looking for an other philosophy as a young Muslim boy through an other religion means you have already made an opposing idea in your mind towards Islam and of course Islamic regime. You have written in your notepad that we can live an ethic life even without God. Do you know what a sinister idea is that? That is sheer BLASPHEMY! Yes, you rubbish are even against GOD! No human being can live an ethic life without religion and God; but you rubbish boy have a nasty intention of imparting such BLASPHEMOUS opinions to the others.” He said so; and adjusted the lamp hanging over the table in order to let me see him. I , already passed out by hearing such awful accusations, was not that willing to see his face. Fortunately his hidden eyes behind a wide sunglasses were not able to bug me in a psychological way. The reflection of light on his sunglasses was leaving an strange and frightening effect on my mind as I knew that my life could be easily attached to an infinite darkness. Now I could see his hands which due to my delirious frame of mind, seemed to me unusually big and frightening. He banged his hand on the table and said: ” how did you get this book? ” while pushing the book towards me. The white pig on the book’s cover was looking at me in a pose as if he was going to answer instead of me. I answered : ” in the basement  of a house. a deserted house , belongs to some people who had left the country at the time of revolution. My father’s lorry was hired by the  man who had bought that house, so I went there by my father and there I came upon this book” He pulled the book back and said: ” You are lying like a Dog!” It was for the second time that that arrogant  human being made me to regret for hearing a dog to have compared in such an unfair way with human being as really a Dog is the beautiful symbol of honesty and gratitude. ” Animal Farm! Animal Farm!” he read out the title of book in a very furious tone, and then added : ” You rubbish, have written in your notepad which this book undoubtedly is an adaptation of all the known revolutions in the world. How dare you to express such dirty opinions while you are living in a sacred country which is ruled over by the God and his virtuous servants who have dedicated  themselves to the country and people? As a matter of course, I am under no illusion that you must be a member of an anti-Islam and opposing group of daydreamers who think the Islamic regime will be toppled by your ridiculous opinions. Now, you have Two choices: first : like a son of human being tell me which group are you working for, and the second: keep making me fool with your articulate answers; although I do not believe that either way will make that difference in my final decision about you rubbish infidel.” I, stunned and mute, was trying to understand the meaning of one of his phrases, ” like a son of human being” while I had previously been compared to a Dog in way of telling lies; but honestly at those agonizing moments I would sooner to have been asked t go on with the  rest of interrogation like a son of Dog; free of hypocrisy, and human considerations, as I was not able to perceive any kind of attribute related to humanity in  those  awful  moments.

” I will let you know! I will let you know!” he said to me in a malicious tone while leaving the cell. Absolute darkness. Deadly silence. Frozen moments. I was feeling cold. I was feeling hot. As a young boy it was too much for me to cope with, as I knew in such cases there would be a low possibility of getting rid of the satanic attitude that had been the main reason of exercising the power and hegemony in an exhaustive manner for a long time. suppressing any kind of expression which should be a suggestive of opposing trends, had been the destructive policy of the amazingly intelligent group of rulers, ruling over Iran. Branding the youths as ANTI-REVOLUTION( as they consider the revolution as a divine gift, and as sacred as God himself; so any adverse opinion to the principles of revolution is considered as confrontation with God), and killing them with the absolutely inhuman intention of escalating the horror between the families in order to make them to prevent their youths from being involved in political issues, had been the horrible manner of Islamic regime in controlling the people.

It was the darkness which had already begun to insinuate a bitter sense of defencelessness and obliviousness in my confused mind. I was feeling an intricate sadness through every word which was shattered as soon as it had been shaped in my mind, before being able to get  its content. The multitude of different thoughts with different contents were just rushing out of my mind as if they were trying to save themselves from being destroyed in those infertile moments which were going to impart a sense of giving the hope of survival up. All of a sudden I burst into a hysterical laughter and then cry; and it was enough revealing to let me know that in fact the real and bitter death of a marvelous creature like human being was just cowardliness and humiliation. Thereby, the miraculous function of moments in yielding to everlasting values, acted rightly upon my mind and helped me to pull myself together and brace my mind and my soul to encounter with whatever which was to happen next, trough a much more honourable attitude.

A meager thread of light which was lazily trying to penetrate into the absolute darkness of the cell, made me aware of the presence of my interrogator in the cell for the second time. As soon as he closed the door behind him , the hanging light over the table was turned on. As a result of a sudden change in my morale, this time I really was not that worried about whatever which he was going to tell me. After adjusting the light, he sat on the chair which its cracking legs let me know that the person sitting on it, was an overweight one. A short piece of a thick and black cable was slowly pushed forward on the table by the hand which did not seem to my sight as big as it had seemed to my frightened eyes at the first time. He, growled at me, perhaps to break down the self-confidence that I had already obtained by undergoing an emotional challenge( which probably had been imparted to him via my indifferent attitude to his presence in the cell) ”listen bastard , right now you have to tell me, in full details, understood? In full details, I mean thoroughly, whatever you know about the group or party which you have been working for; otherwise I will not hesitate to make you talk in my own way” the weight that he put on MY OWN WAY and simultaneously grasping the short, thick, and black cable which was lain on the table like a frozen snake, left no doubt for me that I would be exposed to an other experiencing of pain. I replied, in a relatively confident tone: ” I am not a member of any group or party; and as I have already told you, the books which I have chosen to read are in fact the ones which I have to read as they are the fine examples which are representers of different writers and different cultures. To this, I have to add that I have already prepared a long list of all the elite writers form all over the world with no intention other than the intention of learning about my world and of course to satisfy my thirsty soul for knowledge and wisdom. As a matter of course, a writer must necessarily get the right command on all branches of human sciences, from philosophy to religion and to the most ordinary human customs and beliefs. So, reading a book, written by an enormously skillful Greek writer which is a fantastic revision on Christianity and Jesus, surely, surely, can be of a great assistance in the way of learning and acquiring the clues on the ways of expanding the ability of observation and recognition. As to the Animal Farm, as a masterpiece of the world’s literature and its genuine and great writer with that specific style of writing and applying imagination and a very bitter humour to his great works, I, really , have had no desire other than the soul-elevating desire of learning. Adding to this that I as the first child of a poor and populated family that its only breadwinner is my small but vigorous father who barely have been able to provide us with butter and bread, used to work after school and at summer holidays to earn some money just to buy my desired books as I knew my father would never afford to pay the awful expenses of sending me to the university. Now I am absolutely puzzled to understand why I have to be kicked on the ass, why I have to be slapped on head, why I have to be punched on the nose, and above all, why I have to be arrested by the Security Service?!!” as I finished with my explanations, he moved his bulk towards the door, and a few seconds later an other agent crept his bulk in. The newcomer unlocked the handcuff on my hands and instantly and before I could realise how, he banged my body on the iron-table as if I was a sack of potatoes! ” talk, just talk, and tell me the name of people who you have been working for, otherwise! otherwise I will kill you right know,” and as I repeated my previous answer, the thick, short and black cable lashed blindly onto my back, and a few seconds later I was far beyond the pain as my already weakened body had become so tender which really was not able to stand being beaten so hard and savagely.

A freezing bucket of water had already made me sure that I was still alive, as one of the two agents were trying to keep my head up. ” listen bastard!” he said, while holding my chin between his strong fingers in a way as if he was going to pull it off my face. ” either you talk or not, tomorrow we will receive your records, and now, I assure you! I assure you! I, will send you to the hell, as I , promised you previously! Yes! I, will send you to the hell just to help you to be associated with all famous infidels and above all with the Jesus, the Greek writer and all the other elite writers,” then, they were gone; and I was left alone with the darkness and silence of my cell which strangely seemed to me as a place out of time and current moments. It did not take me more than a couple of seconds to realise that my hands were in fact tied from behind to the chair which I was sitting on. I was so tired; I wished to sleep ; I wished to lay down and put my face on the floor, in order to feel the earth and getting rid of the heavy responsibilities of a living creature and to be pulled into the focus of gravity in the heart of the earth. As my body was getting cold, the pain began to surge in all my cells. My wet cloths had already doubled the irritating pain of my wounds, constituted by that awful piece of Cable and it was really going to make me feel absolutely desperate. All of a sudden a killing desire for the water made me aware of my intensive thirst which in fact had been forgotten as a material need in the frenzy of inner struggles. As the thirst and pain were allied to take me to the climax of a melancholic exasperation, my nerves came, timely, to help me by giving a halt to sending the maddening impulses to my brain; so the numbness followed by a delirious sleep which yield to a horrible but thoughtful dream: ” I saw myself, wandered in the middle a very hot desert, running like a frightened Dog, towards an unknown destination. ”Steps. Steps. horror. horror. Mirage. Just keep running; do not look back. You would not see any butterfly in this hell! Steps! Steps! getting closer ,going away!” A voice was telling me. far, far away, close, very close, a Shack, a wooden, or perhaps an earthen Shack was looming. I quickened my paces. The Shack, moving over the mirage, rather a boat; the mirage, retreating in a way as if to nowhere, rushing forward in a way as if to no target, rather a wave in the middle of a vast ocean . ” no butterfly in this hell! keep running! Lizards! Lizards! They are getting closer! They are getting closer!” the voice was telling me again. It is true! It is true! I cried as a certain figure was enlarging through my vague sight; a man, an old one, dressed in white loose cloths, his long beard, grey and tidy, poured down almost on his belly. He waved me, and instantly uttered: ” hey! hey! wandered! to where, are you running so fast?” and a few moments later I was standing in front of him, gasping like a thirsty dog, while trying to utter something as an answer. ” I, I am looking for a butterfly” I answered. He, taking on a look of sagacity, and shrewdness, looked at me, straight on the eyes, and then exclaimed: ” here?! In this bare desert?! Butterfly?! In a garden, in a green place and in the growing season one should get tempted to look for a butterfly. Come. Come with me. The thirst must be eased off before it burns your brain”

The world Inside the wooden shack was absolutely different with the boiling world outside. It was cool and pleasant. opposite the door, there were a remarkable number of books, setting on each other in a way that looked like a tower. A small wooden – table with an open scroll on it- which was accompanied by Two small stools, was perfectly a suggestive of a pure sagacity and intellectuality. As soon as I sat on one of the stools, he handed me an earthen – jug of cool water. ” never, ever rush in getting rid of thirst” he said, as I , instantly, held the jug between my hands. As the thirst was eased off, I came to his fantastic point; it was in fact a great and thoughtful philosophy; as thirst , in a metaphorical point of view, is the beginning point of an instructive challenge in the process of getting involved in the beautiful struggles for knowledge  and realization. ” well, young man, lucky young man, you could have been eaten by those giant Lizards in this desert; but you are still alive and surely able to let me know why have you been wandered in this desert?” he said, while his glowing eyes were going to burn me into ashes of regret and sorrow for the real love and altitude of genuine human values. ” I am escaping” I said in a lamentable tone. ” from who? from where?” he said ,as his eyes seemed to me as an everlasting origin of light and brightness. ”I do not know from who or from where;I am just escaping. I said so and felt an ambiguous constraint somewhere behind my mind. ”listen” he said ” no human being can escape to no where, we are prisoners, we are the victims of stupidity and ambiguity; yes my dear, we are intricate beings , tangled with a lofty philosophy in which there is no way to certainty and clearness. Thereby, we had better to take on an alternative way of approaching the life and its inevitable rules. So, I think, to define the word ”escape”, we need to avoid of its literal existence as we really are not enough   able   to adopt  it  in a practical manner.” As I was finished with the drinking of the remaining water in the earthen-jug he was vanished as if he had not been there at all. I, frightened to death, laboured to put my body on my legs; and before I could repose on my mind to know what to do, the books, the tower of books, started to burn. I could see the words, the certain words, which were fluttering towards the ceiling. And all of a sudden the burning books turned to a fountain of blood, surging up and falling down as the words, the certain words, seen and unseen, were bobbling in a way as if they were intended to save themselves of being dissolved in the blood. As the fountain of blood changed to its previous form of a burning tower, I saw Two groups of words, right on the face of the fire, trying to stand beside each other to impart something; and as they succeeded in getting to a relatively parallel situation I read Two sentences: ”death is an eternal agony!!” and ” death is freedom” and a few moments later I was running to escape from the desert to the people, or perhaps from nowhere to nowhere!! I was running. I was crying. I was laughing. I was singing; and the sinister utterance of ” death is an eternal agony” were echoing all over the desert in a deafening tone. No butterfly can be found in this desert…………. we are prisoners………

Four days later a miracle, a real miracle happened. I was informed of being released in a few hours. Adverse to my optimistic view towards any single phenomenon in life, I did not felt any kind of authenticity in that news, as I had never heard of anyone who would have been released in case of being arrested by Scurity Service. As an absolutely inhuman procedure, killing and destroying , had been the terrible manner of dealing with oppositions, within the awful principles of the horrible Islamic regime of Iran. Thus, although, it was true that I was not a significant person, and above all, that I had not been involved in no kind of political activities against regime, but I, as a person born, and brought up in that God-forgotten country, knew that many people, young, very young people had been destroyed through that sinister policy. By that time I had already studied the chronicles of all the events which had constituted the circumstances within Two specific periods: The time of Shah and before the revolution and the time of Islamic regime and after the revolution. So, as far as I knew , almost all of the significant figures of the Islamic regime had been imprisoned for long periods in the time of previous regime; and in fact they had been offered the chance of remaining alive and going on with their beliefs in an absolutely fair and frank condition; and in fact and according to the authentic documents, they had been allowed in prisons to study, to write, and to communicate with the world outside. Adding to this, a remarkable number of this astute and tricky people had been living on long time exiles at the time of Shah(king), as everybody knows, Imam Khomeini was one of these people who as the leader, led the revolution while on exile. So, it was obvious for me that the Mullahs who in fact had been nourished in the jails of previous regime instead of being flogged , slapped , denigrated, punished and destroyed, had already learnt their lessons from that fair and human way of dealing with oppositions; and therefore they took the policy of killing and destroying on, absolutely adverse to what that that so-called tyrannic Shah(king) and his regime had done to them. Therefore , there was no doubt for me that the secret of controlling and ruling within the principles of Islamic regime was the sinister policy of killing the oppositions, particularly the young and raw ones , in order to prevent them of turning to mature and wise oppositions; in this, the memory of Iranian nation never ever forget those GRAVEYARDS, called:” LAANAT ABAD”( the place populated by cursed people) which were populated by the youths ( who were our brothers and sisters) without even a sign over their graves to be known perhaps by a passerby.

” hey! You f***ing talented boy!” said to me my interrogator, in a sarcastic tone. ”You are the luckiest creature who I have ever seen in whole my life! We have already received your records which is telling us that you have no bad records at all; and you blabber boy are a very talented football player who has already played in teenagers’ national team for Three years and has relatively made a name for himself; and surely, has got a bright future; but listen bastard! I do not give a shit to the future of rubbishes like you because you bastards are ungrateful people who are using the opportunities which has been created by Islamic regime for you and yet you are treasonably trying to skew the values of regime which in fact are the divine values which has been offered to us by great God. You, bastard might have been a devotee to such a regime that has provided you bastards such amazing atmosphere in which a bastard like you has been able to progress and playing for national team. It is shameful that you bastard instead of being faithful to your religion and your leaders, have got some ludicrous trends in your mind towards things which are barely worthy of shit!’ Any way we have already received a letter asking us to release you! Shit! Yes, to release you! You cockerel! Who in my point of view are a potential threat to the Islamic values, as I am under no illusion that you have been brainwashed by the enemies of Islam and Islamic regime. Although, although, I am sure that there is something wrong in this issue , but I am going to let you go; but I promise you to send you to the hell, if, if, in the future you insist in retaining to your nasty opinions” all of sudden my heart was laden with horror and pain as the handcuff was unlocked and I was blindfolded again as it was really unbleivable for me that they were really going to release me. On the Thrirty Second step as the last one to climb, I felt like ascending , to the farthest place in the sky, far, far beyond the reach of fear and obligation. Coming out from that awful basement was like coming out of a very deep grave althoughthe  person  who was actually dragging me up seemed to me as a suggestive of an undertaker from the hell.

I was kicked into the car by the man who I could not see and I would not like to see even if I could. As the rampegeous car took on a smoother strain in moving , my intterrogator began to rant again ; and as he was going to take on a nasty and mischievous language( and in fact to prove that how the so-called divine and worthy trends within the Islamic regime have been actually so much effective that have constituted such a disgusting attitude which shamelessly call the interests for knowing about the other religions: ” barely Worthy of shit!”), my mind popped up a bittersweet memory back to Four years ago that I saw my picture on a very popular sport magazine. Seeing my own picture on such a magazine caused so much happiness in my little heart that I really was not able to bear it; so I cried from the bottom of my heart; I danced , like crazy; I sang, awkwardly; and I did whatever a poor and a crazy with Football teenager would probably do. After reading the captions under my photo ( which had praised me as a talented teenager) for more than Ten times, I saw my name in a list of the best teenagers who had been chosen and invited to Tehran to play for national team. Remembering that going to Tehran would cost me some money , was enough distressing to spoil my invigorating happiness, as I knew it would be very difficult for my poor parents to provide me with the needed money and also to buy me some suitable clothes, and above all a pair of just enough good Football shoes. On the same day I had to prepare myself for setting off the long journey to Tehran on the next day. So, I left the school and headed for home ; knowing that how my mother and my Four brothers would become happy of hearing the news of my being chosen for the national team , had made me cheerd up again. As the dooor was opened by my youngest brother who had not gone to school on that day, I saw my mother , coming in from the backyard; and before she could ask me to explain about being at home at that time instead of being at school, I waved the Magazine over my hand and while trying to dance like one of the Brazilian who I had previously seen on TV, let her know about her unasked question. Pride and rapture added a dual whiteness and beauty to the lines of my mother’s genuine face. She hugged me with all her maternal affection. The moments were multiplied in themselves to enrich the effects of love and pure beauties of human soul. She said, while slapping me gently on face: ” you are deserved it my son; and I am sure you will be the best in Tehran” and as she hugged me again, I whispered under her ear: ” mam I am sorry but I need some money and—–” and all of a sudden I felt moments came into a freezing halt, as my mothers’ hands stopped tapping my back. Her face, tangled in pain. Her eyes , moistured and laden with a dark sorrow, as she looked at my face in an embarrassed posture. As an emotional and still childish teenager It was too much for me to bear; in fact it was the first , heaviest and the most poignant experience of poverty that I had to undergo. That dear women, that kind angel, that patient and lovely women, that perfect symbol of humanity and commitment who was breaking down before my eyes, was my mother, my hope, and my dearest; every single drop of her tears was like a heavy burden, dropping on my tender soul. So I cried and said to my mother (while my little brother was trying to empathize with me in my destroying struggle by holding my hands in his tiny hands) : ” listen mam, I am going to forgo the football; so I will not go to Tehran; I mean I do not need any money, clothes, or shoes; listen mam, I am OK. I am happy” ” no. no.no” She said,while trying to shape a smile on her shivering lips . ” you have to go; so as your uncle knows that your father is away, I am sure he can help us with the needed money” I stopped her of going further with her plan to borrow money by telling her that I would go if she got enough money to buy me a bus ticket.

The next day I was sitting in a bus which was headed to Tehran, feeling like a little alien tramp, wandered in the world of humans , with no desire left to think about but the desire of being told where to go. A bag, a ridiculous bag (which its contents were rather effective in making me feel distressed and bored than making me to feel at least a childish interest for what I had) was the only belonging which I had with myself. As to my pocket and its contents , surely it was not less distressing and boring than my bag and its content. I got just enough money to buy some cheap foods  and paying for the Taxi on the next day to take me to the Iran’s Football Federation. And finally the next day, on a beautiful but cold Autumnal afternoon I saw myself walking on the velvet turf of Azady Stadium as one of the most beautiful and biggest stadiums in the world. It was so stimulating and invigorating that I forgot that my absolutely worn out shoes was not enough good for playing on that lustrous and slippery turf. Adverse to the killing burden of pain and sorrow which had already settled down  the bottom of my heart like a layer of lead, I was hopeful and overconfident as the miracle of moments had already helped me to spot my quest which was to play a beautiful football for my mother, just for my mother and no one else. Eighty Five teenagers from all over the country were decidedly to show their merits and wear the beautiful shirt of national team; and after Forty Five days of training sessions I found myself as the happiest little man between all those little men ,as I had proved myself as one the main members of the national team. And a week later on I played a fantastic football against a very strong team from Bulgaria and a few days later a team from China , while wearing the number 8 Green shirt of national team. Every span of the green field seemed to me as a  space to create something which could comes to my aid as a moral spur in dealing with the bitter and diminishing  sense of poorness and deprivation; as to the patchy ball (which was actually a bewitching thing, highly capable of adding sense and quality to my quest), I had an exhaustive passion to discover all the  intricate and hidden secrets in its patches as every single patch of its rampageous fabric had in fact a meaning of life and happiness for me. Two months of absolute happiness and triumph for me came to an end and I had to go back to my home; but unbelievably no one bothered to let me know how should I go back to my home when there was no money in my pocket even to buy a loaf of bread. In the morning of the night before I found myself alone in a vast camp as all my playmates had left the camp on their own on the same day. It was the caretaker of that building who came to my aid by letting me to phone one of my close friends and playmates (who in fact was the best member of our team and later on succeeded with his career to play in the world cup in Franc) and asking him for help; and finally with his help I went back to my city. This bittersweet memory was an evident proof to reject the absurd and nonsensical claim of my interrogator based on the benevolent and caring nature of the Islamic regime and its so-called affectionate leaders ; as actually the only thing which Islamic regime had had to offer to the lower classes of Iranian society in that God-forgotten country had been the heavy burden of numerous disasters like Eight years of war with Iraq, and so forth to an infinite account.

As the car stopped, my interrogator gave the last notice as a security advice by telling me that how harmful would be the consequences of disclosing what had happened to me in the buliding of Security Service for me in the future. Then I was thrown out of the car while the blindfold was still on my eyes. At the last moment before they leave, I was told that walking to the end of the road would lead me to the barrack. As soon as I took the blindfold off my eyes, it was the darkness which welcomed me to its horrendous sanctuary which was absolutely deteriorated by the wild wind which was awkwardly blowing to differen directions. I found walking very difficult as my painful legs were not able to take on a consistent pace to carry my painful body forward.

It was half past One am when I reached the barrack as the clock mounted on the wall of scurity kiosk was telling me. Seeing that funny but toughtful picture of that lovely cockerel that was forcing himself to lay the third eggs caused me to feel a surge of a very bitter humour somewhere behind my mind. The Two soldiers and a sergeant in security kiosk were looking at me in a way as if I was from an other planet, landed in my flying saucer a few momets ago. ” where are you going in this time of night?!” asked me the sergeant who was chewing something which seemed to me should be of a very bitter taste as the lines of his face were twisting like leeches , stuck in thick mud. ” I am a soldier” I said, as I was really struggling to control my shaking body which was going to let me down as a result of hunger, thirst, and sleepnessness. ” which kind of soldier are you?” asked the sergeant, who his rustling voice had already let me learn what kind of stuff he was chewing which had made him so cheerful and inconsiderate that I was sure he would go on with his nonsense questions for a long time; so, I told him my name and the relevant explantions on my situation in a short sentence and after being obliged to answer some other nonsensical questions, I was taken to the relevant division.

While the soldier (who had come with me to intruduce me the officer in charge on that night), was knocking on a small wooden door, I was praying for not being faced with an other person, with lines of his face twisting like leeches stuck in mud, as a result of chewing at a bitter stuff. As the door was opened I took a very long breath, as the person who emerged from the room was the same solemn and tidy officer in blue uniform, and polished boots, who I had seen at the first night of my unfortunate presence in that place. As the soldier left, the solemn, and tidy officer said to me : ” I have been waiting for you from morning up to know”, while puting his hand around my shoulder and leading me into his office. A sharp pain rushed up to my brain as I sat on the wooden and solid chair, as my buttock had been badly wounded by that bloody piece of cable. ” sit on the bed” he said without looking at me while making a big mug of tea. As soon as I began to sip the hot tea, my mind just rushed me to muse on what the officer told me as the first sentenc: ” I have been waiting for you from morning up to now” and then instantly I uttered, in absolute amazement: ” is it true that you have been————?” ”yes my dear” he said in a very kind voice. ” yes it is true and it is also true that you are a very clever boy, and as it goes without saying that you are absolutely worn out; so I am not going to keep you siting here for a long time” then he handed a piece of sky blue paper and added : ” read it and give it back to me” I unfolded the fine sky blue paper which ran so:

My sensible brother

” they smell your breath,

lest you have said ” I love you”

They smell you heart.

These are strange times my dear…

And they flog love

at the roadblock..

We had better hide love in the closet….

In this crooked dead end and twisting chill,

they feed the fire

with the kindling of song and poetry.

Do not risk a thought.

These are strange times my dear

He who knocks on the door at midnight

has come to kill the light.

We had better hide light in the closet…..

Those there are butchers

stationed at the crossroads

with the bloody cloves and cleaves.

These are strange times my dear.

And they excise smiles from lips.

We had better hide joy in the closet…

Canaries barbecued on a fire of lilies and jasmines.

These are strange times my dear.

Satan drunk with victory

sits at our funeral feast.

We had better hide God in the closet…….”

”Ahmad Shamlu”

My dear brother , we are victims of stupidity and oppression; and there is nothing for us to do at the present time which weather is so cold and poisoneous; but surely one day shall be our day, a day of

light and prosperity. I will do my best to dig you out of your grave.

D. Zahra

I raised my head from the paper to look at the officer’s face in order to confirm my guess; so, in just a few seconds my guess was ratified by the lines of officer’s solemn face; and before I could compose any sentence as a question, he said, while smiling and shaking his head: ” I do not know her; I mean I do not know her very well; but my answer to your unasked question is that you are right about your guess.” he said, after an instant halt which followed by an other instant halt: ” she is my sister; she is a perfect woman; a very capable and kind woman. These are the only things that I know about her. To prevent you of asking more questions, I should let you know that she had been sent to this province by the University of Tehran to make a report on the situation of hospitals and other hygienic issues in this area; so, you have been very lucky for being arrested at the time that she was in this city’s hospital. She told me about you and your problem. Yesterday she phoned me just to let me know that the lucky boy would be released in Twenty Four hours. and I think what I have already told you is more than enough for you to know about your miraculous escape from the hands of death.” I handed the paper to him and a few seconds later on the sky blue paper was turning to black and burnt pieces which were performing a dance of pain and thought over a flame which seemed ashamed of itself to burn those rich words for no other than reason but the reason of hiding love , friendship and thought. ”we had better hide these kind of communications in the ashes not in the closets; perhaps, perhaps, to make an eternal flame of them in the future.” the officer said so and sighed, deep and bitter. ”get up, get up” he said to me, while an other officer came in . ” we should go home; you need to take a shower and of course your wounds have to be cured as soon as possible; to this, my wife knows what to do as she got a playful son at the same age with you who sometimes hurt himself , so his mother have already acquired some tips in this case. As to your inner wounds, I think there will be no easy and instant remedy for that, but the remedy of time”

It was around Twelve am that I got up in the officer’s home to receive the warmest love and affection from the officer’s wife, son and girl. A kiss on my forehead by the officer’s wife who was a real angel, created an elevated moment in my heart to feel a holy respect for the holy maternal ingrained sentiments in the heart of woman. Officer’s son hugged me so warm and friendly that I felt a Thousands-years old and forgotten brotherhood and friendship somewhere behind my mind. As to his daughter and her beautiful eyes that gave me a pure sense of the essence of human life, I felt a familiar smack of an old, holy, and forgotten love towards her. Being with that nice and affectionate family for a couple of hours had effectively cheered me up and ready to think of a more effective way of approaching the mental struggles which were going to involve me in an intricate challenge which was a little stronger than my abilities in working its different layers out in a rational manner.

Passing through the narrow streets of the awful city, while the dark, mischievious, and blind wind, allied with the sand and dust to make the dark life of the city darker, was blindly lashing into faces which were tightly wrapped up in white cloths, was in fact the first opportunity for me to see the face of that awful city which really seemed to me as the most perefct suggestive of loneliness and remoteness. A dark and sad air of vulnerability and deprivation was ruling over the city and its unfortunate people who their concealed faces in the white cloths, definitely were the gloomiest faces in the world. ” what is this crazy wind?” I asked officer who was looking out through the car’s windscreen in a way as if he was driving a submarine under the deep and dark waters of an unknown ocean. ”this wind” he said in a bitter tone. ” begins to blow from the first momemnts of the Autumn and keeps blowing to the last moments of it; I mean it keeps blowing for exactly and fully One hundred and Twenty days.” a few minutes later on as the car was pulled over and the officer lef the car to buy some disinfectant, I opened the carrier bag which had been given to me by the officer’s kind family. The first thing which I pulled out was a tiny book wrapped in a green piece of paper; and when I unwrapped the book and saw the portrait of its writer, all the hidden corrners of my mind and my heart were ignited by an abstract surge of word, meaning, and poetry. It was actually a present from officer,s daughter which its contents were amazingly of a very close and correspondenc nature to my state of mind at those boring moments. The book was a collection of Forogh Farrokzad,s poetry; the woman who her poetry works was as short and rich as her life. I turned the pages one after an other and just devoured the words which ran so: ” I will greet the painful growth of poplars which pass through the dry seasons; I will greet the streams which were flowed in me; I will greet the clouds which were my lengthy thoughts.” ” the sun was dead and no one knew that the sad dove, which escaped from hearts was Faith.”

Returning Back to that vast barrack which its buildings had seemed to me somehow alien , instantly gave me a good sense of interest for the new experiences which I was going to acuire. ” would you please give some explanations about these buildings” I asked officer while we were walking down the barrack. He laughed loudly, stopped walking, while looking on my eyes, and said: ” my son, you got a fantastic eye which works correspondingly with your imaginative mind; well, very well; let me know what have you found different in these buildings which has made so curious to know about them?” I said: ” the architecture, the red bricks and the wooden doors; these things are obviously indicating a fine delicacy and solemnity which is different with those in our architecture.” he tapped me on the back and said: ” you are absolutely right; because these buildings had been made by English back to many years ago.” I, while absolutely wondered, uttered: ” English! Here! In these ruins! In this desert!!? What really they had been looking for here in this place which even the sky over it does not seem so willing to roof it?” he burst into a cheerful laughter and said: ” my sensible son, this is an unbelievably great question; thank you; thank you indeed for asking such a thoughtful question. Treasures are hidden in the heart of ruins. No precious thing can be found in a garish and flamboyant city or palace ; so, as a matter of course, the intelligent English who had been privileged by an exquisite merit and will, surely had been aware of this attitude more than any other nation in this world, who had bothered themselves to come here from the other side of the world and made such amazing buildings which have amazed you , and of course many others will be amazed by this, as the future will reveal the treasure which English had been looking for in this awful place.” the resonance of words ”merit and will” were beating on my mind in a pace of depth and meaning; and it occured to me , in an instant realising, that merit, will, and love , in a consistent combination can make the people great in mind and fair in heart, and surely, people of great minds and fair hearts, get at a point which is called virtue which in fact is the point of a superb perfection. Therefore it occurred to me that English should be people of greatness in mind, fairness in heart, and of course people of love and virtue.

Now eighteen years after those dark days which followed by many other darker days, I am escaping from my home ( although I have not been able to find a proper definition for the word ”escape” as yet), I am escaping form its oppression, misesries, injustices, and its ferocity. Now I am escaping from my home, the home which buried my desires in a grave of thorn and blade; the home which wandered my soul in a hell of doubt and hesitation; the home which depressed me in the most outrageous manner. Years, has passed after years, nonstop, hastily and carelessly towards the destinations, known, and unknown; but I have been lost in the darkness of a blind bias in favour of God and sanctity! Years has passed after years, but no destintion, known or unknown, niether to my mind nor to my soul, has been assigned to my share of life. Years has passed after years, and have left me alone with a chill running in my blood. Now, eighteen years after those dark days which followed by many other darker days, I am looking for a trustworthy place to burry the dead songs and words which were supposed to enrich the life of that vigorous, talented, and spontaneous teenager who eighteen years ago was infatuated with words and knowledge. Nowadays, years after those dark years, in which God and religion did not allow me to search for my identity, I am still suffering from the bitter ambiguity of my existence.