My Uncle Napoleon

by Iraj Pezeshkzad

  “What problem? What difficulty?”

  “Well sir, savin’ your . . . savin’ your . . . savin’ your grace, sir, and not to be disrespectful like, I think this man from our town isn’t a man from our town.”

  “What do you mean? How isn’t he from your town?”

  “His name’s Ghiasabadi right enough, but he can’t be from Ghiasabad. Because in the war in Lurestan he was hit by a bullet . . .”

  “You mean bullets don’t hit men from Ghiasabad?”

  “They hit ’em, but not where this one hit this poor devil. To cut a long story short, and no disrespect like but this poor feller’s got no guts.”

  Aziz al-Saltaneh asked in a puzzled way, “Mash Qasem, how can he have no guts? . . . And what have guts got to do with . . . ?”

  Asadollah Mirza said, “Mrs. al-Saltaneh, Mash Qasem is rather shy, what he means by guts is the famous tower of San Francisco.”

  Aziz al-Saltaneh slapped herself on the cheek. “God strike me dead! Asadollah, what things you say.”

  And Dustali Khan followed up her remarks, “When people have no shame or modesty it’s better . . .”

  Asadollah Mirza angrily cut his words short. “Moment, moment, and you, who are such a paragon of shame and modesty, by what name would you refer to the aforementioned member?”

  “A man doesn’t use a name . . .”

  “Nevertheless, it’s a reality that exists. Either one has to call it by its proper name, or one conveys one’s meaning by hints and allusions. After all, we can’t refer to it as a nose or an ear or an eyebrow . . .”

  Dear Uncle interrupted their conversation, “Please, gentlemen, don’t argue . . . and in any case whether this particular exists or doesn’t exist, what does it matter? You’re not expecting them to grow old in one another’s arms, are you?”

  Aziz al-Saltaneh slapped herself on the cheek. “God strike me dead! God forbid!”

  Mash Qasem said, “The bad thing about this is we can’t blame the baby on him. We’ll have to tell him the truth!”

  Dustali Khan said, “At the most ten or fifteen days . . . then there has to be a divorce. That’s all we needed, to have this worthless Ghiasabadi for a son-in-law . . . we’ll have to explain to him that he takes the money and marries the girl and then a few days later divorces her and goes about his business.”

  Asadollah Mirza said, “Mash Qasem, go and talk to him. We’ve no choice now except to tell him the truth. When Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi realizes why we’re marrying her off to him he’ll also realize that this defect is a mere detail of no importance whatsoever. It makes no difference if a man has legs or if he’s completely crippled if he’s not going to be running anywhere.”

  Mash Qasem shook his head and said, “Well sir, to tell the truth, I’m afraid to say this to someone from our town. Sir, if you knew how important their honor is to folks from Ghiasabad, it’s impossible you’d dare to . . .”

  “Let him know carefully and bit by bit, Mash Qasem!”

  “In fact, it’s better we tell him all in one go and have hold of his arms and legs so he doesn’t start a bloodbath.”

  After some discussion, it was finally agreed, at Mash Qasem’s insistence, that Asadollah Mirza and I would go to assist him; we would sit down on either side of the cadet officer and when Mash Qasem indicated that he was about to broach the subject we would use some excuse to grip the prospective son-in-law’s arms, so that he didn’t wreak some terrible havoc either on Mash Qasem or on himself.

  As we were setting off for the cellar Dustali Khan lifted up the fore part of his body and said in a beseeching voice, “But don’t suddenly let him realize that Qamar has her own personal inheritance, or his expectations will really soar.”

  Asadollah Mirza threw him an angry contemptuous look and muttered, “Don’t worry, they won’t snatch that morsel from your jaws. Sleep well, great hero!”

  In the yard Mash Qasem gave his final orders concerning the precautionary steps that had to be taken, “You be on the watch out. When I give two coughs then you know I’m goin’ to tell him the heart of the matter. Then you grab his arms tight while I’m havin’ my say. Don’t let him go till I tell you.”

  Dear Uncle Napoleon and Aziz al-Saltaneh both tiptoed over to the cellar window so that they could overhear the crucial exchange.

  When we entered the cellar, the cadet officer, who still had his porkpie hat pulled down over his ears, stood up to his full height.

  “Please, Cadet Officer, sir, why do you stand on ceremony so much . . . there’s no need for any of this between us.”

  At Asadollah Mirza’s insistence, Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi sat on the rug at one end of the room, and Asadollah Mirza and I took up our positions on either side of him.

  Mash Qasem looked around the room. He picked up a pair of sugar tongs, and a little hammer for breaking cube sugar, and hid them behind a curtain.

  Asadollah Mirza began to speak, “Yes, Cadet Officer, sir, this girl of ours has seen you and likes what she sees . . . her mother and father are both agreeable to it, and you are still young. You can’t go on without settling down like this.”

  The cadet officer hung his head and said, “Whatever you say, sir. But I told Mash Qasem that I . . . I mean I told Mash Qasem my secret.”

  “Moment, Cadet Officer, sir, that matter’s of no importance. There are so many people who’ve had these problems and been cured. With modern medical methods . . .”

  The cadet officer interrupted him and with his head still lowered said, “But sir, I’m not curable. It’s my bad luck there’s nothing left . . . if you agree to it with me like this, then I’ve no objections. But the lady’s not to say tomorrow that she wasn’t told. I’m only doing this, it’s the only reason I’m doing it, to be of service to you.”

  “Her father and mother are happy with it, Cadet Officer, sir.”

  Mash Qasem confirmed this. “Yes, they’re happy. When the girl’s happy, then the mother and father’ll be happy. So why are you beatin’ about the bush?”

  “But I want to know why they want me to marry their daughter. Couldn’t they find someone more eligible than me in this city?”

  Mash Qasem glanced toward me and Asadollah Mirza and coughed a couple of times. From each side I and Asadollah Mirza placed our hands on the cadet officer’s arms. Mash Qasem said, “Because the girl is expectin’.”

  Then he closed his eyes and waited for the cadet officer’s reaction. We increased our pressure on his arms. Contrary to our expectations, the cadet officer’s face broke into a broad smile. With a laugh he said, “I thought so. So the apple’s got a worm in it, and if it weren’t for that, she wouldn’t be for me at all.”

  Our worried faces relaxed. We released his arms, and Asadollah Mirza said in mild tones, “Yes, that’s the way it is, Cadet Officer, sir . . . it seems that this poor girl went once to the men’s public baths and she was unlucky enough to get pregnant . . .”

  The cadet officer cut him off with a laugh, “Yes, that men’s public bath’s a terrible thing!”

  Mash Qasem muttered, “God rot you, you’ve no feelin’ of honor at all . . .”

  “What did you say, Mash Qasem?”

  “Nothin’, m’dear . . . to cut a long story short, that’s how it is.”

  “So now the girl has to be married off, and then after a little while there’ll be a divorce. Is that what you want?”

  Asadollah Mirza answered, “Yes, Cadet Officer, sir, after ten or fifteen days.”

  “It’s not a job for ten or fifteen days. Everyone’ll realize, I’ve my reputation to think of. We’ll have to wait at least three months, then invent some excuse . . .”

  Asadollah Mirza said, “That’ll be no problem . . . Goodness, I forgot, I had to make a phone call. Be so good as to wait here and I’ll be straight back.�
� Asadollah Mirza went out. I guessed that he had gone to get Aziz al-Saltaneh’s agreement to the length of the marriage, since he came back a few moments later and said, “Right, what were we talking about? . . . Oh yes, about the time . . . yes, that’s no problem, three months and then you divorce her.”

  “But sir, I have to tell you that I’ve no money for all the expenses.”

  “My dear Cadet Officer, what are you thinking of . . . you’re doing a charitable act, why should you be put to any expense . . . the girl’s mother will bear all the expenses . . . you chat with Mash Qasem . . . we’ll take care of all the expenses.”

  Asadollah Mirza signalled to me and we left the basement together. Aziz al-Saltaneh and Dear Uncle both had their ears glued to the basement window. Asadollah Mirza was about to say something but Aziz al-Saltaneh silenced him with a gesture of her hand. She was listening carefully to the conversation between Mash Qasem and the cadet officer and muttering to herself, “The greedy . . . the cheeky devil wants two thousand tomans cash.”

  Asadollah Mirza whispered, “Ma’am, it’s worth it . . . you’ll never find anyone for less than that.”

  Aziz al-Saltaneh still had her ear glued to the window pane. Suddenly her face began to glow and she angrily hissed, “The rotten bastard’s insulting me . . . when he’s sorted out that girl’s business I’ll show him who’s a running sore, who’s a shrew . . . God rot his bald head for him.”

  A few minutes later the meeting continued in Dustali Khan’s room. Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi was kneeling on the carpet, his head bowed.

  Dear Uncle Napoleon said, “Cadet Officer, I hope you realize that you are joining an aristocratic and respected family, and that you should comport yourself during this period of time in a way that will not injure our dignity and reputation.”

  “I’m at your service. I’ll do exactly whatever you say.”

  Asadollah Mirza said, “What’s your opinion concerning a house?”

  His question was directed to Dear Uncle. Dear Uncle answered, “Of course we’ll have to think about a house so that . . .”

  Aziz al-Saltaneh said, “Eh? Do you think I can be separated from my child? The cadet officer will have to come to our house . . . there are empty rooms upstairs, I’ll fix them up for them.”

  Without raising his head the cadet officer said, “Well sir, I’ve a mother who’s getting on and I can’t leave her alone.”

  Asadollah Mirza said, “Fine, bring the aged parent along too.”

  Dustali Khan jerked himself upright, “Why do you talk such rubbish, Asadollah . . . ? How in our house can . . . ?”

  In a palpably mischievous tone Asadollah Mirza said, “There’s no choice Dustali! Mr. Ghiasabadi can’t leave his old infirm mother without anyone to look after her.”

  The cadet officer took up the thread of his talk, “That’s right, sir, there’s just me in the world and my aged worn out mother . . . and my widowed sister.”

  Asadollah Mirza’s eyes lit up, “You have a sister, too? . . . How old is she? What does she do?”

  “Well sir, we married her off two years ago and last year her husband was run over by a car . . . Now she sings in a nightclub.”

  Dear Uncle and Dustali Khan and Aziz al-Saltaneh all said more or less simultaneously, “What? In a nightclub?”

  But Asadollah Mirza gave them no chance to speak. “Splendid, splendid. Wonderful. God keep her . . . Well, it’s obvious that you can’t just leave a young woman without a husband to fend for herself in a town like this . . . the cadet officer’s quite right.”

  Dustali Khan shouted, “Asadollah, can you just shut that filthy mouth of yours!”

  “Moment, moment, do you mean that the cadet officer should abandon his mother and sister and come and live as son-in-law in your house? If he can, so much the better . . . the matter has nothing whatsoever to do with me.”

  The cadet officer stood up. “No, it seems as though the gentleman isn’t very taken with me . . . I can’t just leave an old infirm woman and a young woman without any support to fend for themselves just like that . . . I’ll be on my way.”

  Mash Qasem and Asadollah Mirza ran toward him. “Where’re you goin’? Sit down! What that gentleman says doesn’t matter, it’s what his wife wants.”

  Aziz al-Saltaneh had been making a show of crying, “I’m ready to do anything for this poor wretched child . . .”

  Dustali Khan shouted, “Woman, do you understand what you’re saying? . . . The cadet officer and his old mother and his nightclub singer sister in our house!”

  Once again the cadet officer prepared to leave. “With your permission, gentlemen, I’ll be on my way . . . I can’t listen to people insulting my mother and sister.”

  Once again they sat him down in his place. Asadollah Mirza shouted, “Dustali, control your tongue, otherwise we’ll renew our investigations into who the child’s father is; we’ll bring him here and force him to marry the girl.”

  Dustali Khan gritted his teeth in fury and muttered, “Whatever you think is best.”

  The marriage ceremony was fixed for Thursday night. But the cadet officer insisted that out of respect for his mother he should bring her to ask formally for the girl’s hand.

  Asadollah Mirza said, “Yes, that’s certainly necessary. She can honor us with her presence today. And bring your sister, too. From now on we’re all one big happy family.”

  The cadet officer made as if to leave, but after a few steps turned round. “But, sir, I have to beg you that that matter we mentioned about the war in Lurestan remains just between us. No one in the world knows about this problem of mine. If this leaks out, your daughter’s reputation will be gone and so will mine . . . and don’t say anything about the lady being pregnant in front of my mother, because if my mother realizes, she’ll never agree to it.”

  After solemn promises had been made concerning the cadet officer’s demands, he went on his way.

  Asadollah Mirza and Mash Qasem escorted him to the garden door. After a few minutes Asadollah Mirza came back and said cheerfully, “The wig problem’s solved too. It’s agreed that he’ll come this afternoon and I’ll take him to Lalehzar Avenue and fix him up with a nice wig so that he won’t make Qamar feel sick to her stomach . . . Better give a thought to his clothes as well. For now, Dustali, give me the money for the wig!”

  “I have to give the money for the wig, too?”

  “Don’t if you don’t want to . . . then Qamar won’t agree to marry the cadet officer. Once again we’ll have to start from square one to try and find the baby’s real father and bring him here to marry his baby’s mother.”

  Trembling with rage Dustali Khan shouted, “Asadollah I swear on the soul of my father that if you say that rubbish once more I’ll murder you!”

  “Moment, moment, I don’t know why it upsets you so much. I said we’ll go and find the shameless, conscienceless, everything-less father of the baby. So why should you get so hot and bothered? God forbid that . . .”

  There was a general uproar of people objecting to Asadollah’s remarks; Dustali Khan picked up a bottle of medicine that was next to him and flung it at Asadollah’s head; it shattered loudly against the wall. With a peal of laughter Asadollah Mirza fled the scene.

  When I got back home my father, who had been out since morning, had returned and was pacing about in the yard. He called me over and took me to the room next to the front door.

  “What was all that fuss about today? They said when I wasn’t here Deputy Taymur Khan came.”

  I told my father the whole story. When he heard that Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi had agreed to marry Qamar he guffawed with laughter and said, “That’s really beautiful! A scion of the nation’s aristocracy in the arms of Cadet Officer Ghiasabadi! Thank God they’ve found someone less aristocratic than me, and good luck to them!”

 
There was bitter poison in my father’s laugh.

  He was relishing the taste of revenge after years of being treated with disdain, the revenge that nature was taking on Dear Uncle Napoleon and his family. And then staring off into space he muttered, “This marriage mustn’t go forward without anyone knowing . . . all the pillars of the community, all the aristocracy must be invited.”

  Then catching sight of my astonished stare, he started running around the room like a little child. “Read all about it! Read all about it! Latest news . . . aristocracy drags its skirts through filth . . .”

  He thought for a few moments. Then he seemed to come to a sudden decision. Paying no attention to me he left the room and went toward the garden door.

  “Where are you going, dad?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I anxiously followed him for a few steps. Then I watched him go as far as the corner of the alleyway. A few minutes later Shamsali Mirza and the shoeshine man came back from the police-station. The shoeshine man set about his work again.

  Dear Uncle went over to him with a big smile on his face. “We’re very pleased that the misunderstanding has been cleared up.”

  “God keep you, sir, that bastard Indian accused me of stealing. That lot have no faith or religion.”

  “Don’t worry, God sees to it that justice is done.”

  Spreading out the cloth he worked on, the shoeshine man continued, “And I’ll see he gets what’s coming to him, too. Just you wait. When the time comes I know what I’ve in store for him.”

  Dear Uncle’s eyes shone. Under his breath he repeated the shoeshine man’s words, “When the time comes . . . when the time comes . . .”

  Then after a moment’s silence he said in a would-be meaningful tone, “Pay no attention to such people. You’ve other tasks to fulfill. Attend to your own business.”

  Without understanding what was being implied, the shoeshine man said, “Yes sir, I’ll be attending to my own business.”