‘Yes, and they will give you gifts,’ Manijeh said. ‘Mother, remember the beautiful Allah pendant you gave Bahman Khan when he and Mansoureh came for the mother-in-law greeting?’
‘Yes, I remember. By the way, my girl, what would you like me to bring for you from Mecca? And don’t stand on ceremony.’
‘Nothing, thank you.’
‘And we’ve decided to hold the bedside ceremony after we return. Well, give it some thought until tomorrow and see if there is anything you would like from Mecca.’
‘Missus, let’s go,’ his father said. ‘I don’t think this boy is going to show up and I’m tired. God willing, he will come to see us tomorrow or he will come to the airport to see us off. Well, my girl, let’s leave the goodbyes for tomorrow.’
His mother hugged and kissed me and with a lump in her throat she said, ‘Swear on your life and his that you will take care and not let anything bad happen to him. And do look in on Manijeh while we’re away, although Mansoureh will take care of her.’
They left and I breathed a sigh of relief. I gathered the tea glasses and dessert plates and then went downstairs to look for the rice. I heard Bibi calling me from her apartment so I went over and said hello to her. She carefully looked me up and down and said, ‘Hello to your beautiful face. God willing you will have a happy marriage, my girl, and you will straighten out this boy.’
‘I’m sorry, but do you have the key to the cellar?’ I asked.
‘It’s right there on top of the door frame, my girl.’
‘Thank you. I’ll prepare dinner right away.’
‘Good girl. Cook, cook.’
‘I’ll bring some for you. Don’t bother preparing anything for yourself.’
‘No my girl, I don’t eat dinner. But if you go to buy bread tomorrow, get some for me as well.’
‘Of course!’
And I thought, If the stranger doesn’t come back home, how am I going to buy bread?
The scent of smothered rice and fresh herb stew stirred my appetite. I couldn’t remember the last time I had had a proper meal. Dinner was ready around ten o’clock, but there was no sign of the stranger. No, I couldn’t and didn’t want to wait for him. I ate ravenously, washed the dishes and put the leftovers, which were enough for four meals, in the refrigerator. Then I took my book and went to bed. Unlike the previous night, I fell asleep quickly.
I woke up at eight. My sleep hours were slowly returning to normal and the bedroom no longer felt unfamiliar. The peace that I felt after such a short time in that apartment I had never experienced in my own crowded and unsafe home. I lazily tossed around in bed for a while and then I got up and made the bed. I walked out of the bedroom and suddenly froze where I stood. The stranger was sleeping on a blanket on the floor, next to the floor cushions. I had not heard him come in the night before.
I stood still for a while. He was in a deep sleep. His figure wasn’t as burly as I had imagined. His forearm was resting over his eyes and forehead. He had a bushy moustache that completely covered his upper lip and part of his lower lip as well. His hair was curly and tousled. He was somewhat olive-skinned and seemed to be tall. I said to myself, This man is my husband, but if I had run into him on the street, I would not have recognised him. How ridiculous. I quietly washed up and turned on the samovar. But what was I going to do about bread? Finally, I had an idea. I put on my chador and soundlessly walked out of the apartment. Bibi was at the reflecting pool, filling the watering can.
‘Hello, Mrs Bride. Has that lazy Hamid not woken up yet?’
‘No. I am going to go buy some bread. You still haven’t had breakfast, have you?’
‘No, my girl, and I’m not in a hurry.’
‘Where is the bakery?’
‘When you walk out the door, turn right, at the end of the road, turn left, go one hundred steps and you’ll be right in front of the bakery.’
I fidgeted a bit and then I said, ‘I’m sorry, do you have any small change? I don’t want to wake Hamid and I’m afraid the bakery won’t have any change.’
‘Yes, my dear. It’s on the mantelpiece.’
When I returned, Hamid was still asleep. I went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. I turned to take the cheese out of the refrigerator and suddenly came face to face with the stranger standing in the doorway. I instinctively gasped. He quickly stepped back, raised his arms in surrender, and said, ‘No! No! For the love of God, don’t be afraid. Do I look like the bogeyman! Am I really that scary?’
I wanted to laugh. Seeing me smile, he relaxed and raised his arms higher to rest his hands on top of the door frame.
‘It looks like you are feeling better today,’ he said.
‘Yes, thank you. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.’
‘Wow! Breakfast! And you’ve cleaned the place. I guess Mother was right when she said, with a woman in the house everything will be neat and tidy. I just hope I can still find my things. I’m not used to all this order.’
He went into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he called out, ‘Hey… there was a bathtowel here. Where did you put it?’
I took a folded towel to the bathroom door. He popped his head out and said, ‘By the way, what is your name?’
I was stunned. He didn’t even know my name. After all, my name had been spoken several times during the marriage ceremony. How indifferent he must have been, or how deeply drowned in his own thoughts.
Coldly, I said, ‘Massoum.’
‘Ah, Massoum. But is it Massoum or Massoumeh?’
‘It makes no difference. Most people call me Massoum.’
He peered more carefully into my face and said, ‘It’s good… it suits you.’
My heart ached. He had said the same thing. What a difference between his love and affection and this one’s indifference. He once told me he repeated my name a thousand times a day. Tears welled up in my eyes. I turned and went back to the kitchen, took the breakfast tray to the hall and spread the cloth on the floor. With his curly hair still wet and a towel slung around his neck, the stranger walked over. His dark eyes were kind and cheerful. I no longer felt any fear.
‘Excellent! What a great breakfast. And we have fresh bread, too. Another benefit of being married.’
I thought he only said this for my benefit. He probably wanted to make up for the fact that he didn’t know my name. He sat down cross-legged and I put a tea glass in front of him. He spread some cheese on a piece of bread and said, ‘Well, tell me, why were you so afraid of me? Am I scary or would you have been frightened no matter who walked into your bedroom that night as your husband?’
‘I would have been scared no matter who it was.’
And in my heart I continued, Except Saiid. If it were him, I would have leaped into his arms with my heart and soul.
‘Then why did you get married?’ he asked.
‘I had to.’
‘Why?’
‘My family believed it was time.’
‘But you are still very young. Did you think it was time?’
‘No, I wanted to go to school.’
‘Then why didn’t you?’
‘They said a year six certificate is enough for a girl,’ I explained. ‘I begged so much that they actually let me study a few more years.’
‘So they forced you to sit through that marriage ceremony and they refused to let you go to school, which was your legitimate right.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you resist? Why didn’t you stand up to them? Why didn’t you rebel?’
He looked flushed.
‘You should have claimed your right, even if by force. If people refused to submit to coercion, there wouldn’t be so many oppressors in the world. It is this submissiveness that strengthens the foundations of tyranny.’
I was amazed; he had no notion of reality. I stifled my laugh and with a smile that must have been sarcastic, I said, ‘So you didn’t submit to coercion?’
He gaped at me and said, ‘Who?
Me?’
‘Yes, you. They forced you to sit through that marriage ceremony, didn’t they?’
‘Who said such a thing?’
‘It’s obvious. You can’t say you were counting the minutes to get married. Your poor mother worked so hard, swooned and pleaded so much, until you finally gave in.’
‘My mother said all this, didn’t she? Well, she told you the truth. And you are right, I was forced into it. Beating and torturing people isn’t the only means of oppression; sometimes people use love and affection to disarm you. But when I agreed to get married, I didn’t think any girl would want to marry me under these circumstances.’
For a while, we ate in silence. Then he picked up his tea glass, leaned against a floor cushion and said, ‘You are really good at cutting someone down to size… I like it. You didn’t waste a minute.’ Then he laughed and I started laughing, too.
‘Do you know why I didn’t want a wife?’ he asked.
‘No. Why?’
‘Because when a man gets married his life is no longer his. His hands and feet are tied and he gets so tangled up that he can’t think about his ideals or try to reach them. Someone once said, “When a man gets married, he stands still. When his first child is born, he drops to his knees. When the second child comes, he lies prostrate. And with the third one, he is destroyed.” Or something along those lines… Of course, I don’t mind having my breakfast ready and my home clean, having someone to wash my clothes and take care of me. But this is all human selfishness and it is rooted in the incorrect way we are brought up in a male-dominated society. I believe we shouldn’t think about women like this. Women are the most oppressed people in history. They were the first group of humans to be exploited by another group. They have always been used as a tool and they continue to be used as a tool.’
Although his comments sounded a little like they came straight from a book and I didn’t understand a few of the words, such as ‘exploited’, I still liked what he had said. The phrase ‘Women are the most oppressed people in history’ became etched in my mind.
‘Is that why you didn’t want to get married?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I didn’t want to be restricted and confined, because that is the inescapable nature of traditional marriages. Perhaps if we were friends and of the same mind and outlook, it would be different.’
‘So why didn’t you marry someone like that?’
‘The girls in our group don’t opt for marriage all that easily. They, too, have dedicated themselves to the cause. Besides, my mother hates everyone in our group. She used to say, “If you marry one of them, I will kill myself.”’
‘Did you love her?’
‘Love who?… Oh, no. Don’t misunderstand. I don’t mean I was in love with someone and my mother was against it. No! My parents were insisting that I get married and I decided to put an end to the whole issue by marrying someone in our group. That way, she wouldn’t become an obstacle to my activities, but my mother read my hand.’
‘In your group? Which group do you mean?’
‘It is not a formal group,’ he said. ‘We’re just a bunch of people who get together to take valuable actions that benefit the disadvantaged. After all, everyone has goals and ideals in life and strives to achieve them. What are your goals? What direction do you want to take?’
‘My goal was to continue my education. But now… I don’t know.’
‘Don’t tell me you want to spend the rest of your life scrubbing this apartment.’
‘No!’
‘Then what? If your goal is to get an education, do it. Why are you giving up?’
‘Because they don’t allow married people in secondary school,’ I said.
‘You mean to tell me you don’t know there are other ways of getting an education?’
‘Like what?’
‘Go to night school and take the standardised tests. Not everyone has to go to an ordinary school.’
‘I know, but wouldn’t you object?’
‘Why would I object? As a matter of fact, I would rather be with an educated and intelligent person. Besides, it’s your right. Who am I to stand in your way? I’m not your jailer.’
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What sort of a man was he? How different he was from all the other men I knew. I felt as though a light as bright as the sun had been turned on in my life. I was so happy I could barely talk. I said, ‘Are you telling the truth? Oh, if you would only let me go to school…’
He wanted to laugh at my reaction but instead he kindly said, ‘Of course I’m telling the truth. It is your right and you don’t need to thank anyone for it. Everyone should be able to pursue what they like and believe to be the right path for them. Being married doesn’t mean impeding your spouse’s interests. On the contrary, it means supporting them. Isn’t that so?’
I nodded enthusiastically. I understood his inference that I, too, should not impede his activities. From that day on, our agreement became the unwritten rule of our life together; and although because of it I gained some of my human rights, in the end it was a rule that proved not to my benefit.
He didn’t go to work that day and, naturally, I didn’t ask why. He decided we should go to his parents’ house for lunch. They were leaving on their trip that evening. It took me a while to get ready. I didn’t know how I should dress. I decided to wear my headscarf as I usually did and if he disapproved then I would put on my chador. When I walked out of the bedroom, he pointed to my headscarf and said, ‘What is that? Does it have to stay?’
‘Well, ever since my father gave me permission, I have only worn a headscarf. But if you prefer, I will wear a chador.’
‘Oh, no! No!’ he exclaimed. ‘Even the headscarf is too much. Of course, it’s up to you. Dress any way you like. This is a human right, too.’
After a very long time, that day I felt cheerful. I felt I had a supporter I could rely on, I felt the dreams that only a few hours ago had seemed impossible were now within my reach. And I walked beside him with tranquillity. We talked. He talked more than I did. At times, he was too bookish and sounded like a teacher lecturing a stupid student. But I didn’t mind. He was truly well read and when it came to experience and education, I wouldn’t even be considered his student. I was in awe of him.
At his parents’ house everyone gathered around us. His oldest sister, Monir, and her two sons had come from Tabriz. The two boys were somewhat distant and didn’t mingle with the others that much. They mostly spoke to each other and only in Turkish. Monir was very different from her sisters and looked much older than them. To me, she looked more like their aunt than their sister. Everyone was happy to see that Hamid and I were getting along with each other. Hamid was constantly joking with his mother and sisters. He kept teasing them and, stranger yet, he would kiss them on the cheek. To me it was all funny and surprising. In the house where I grew up, the men rarely spoke to the women, much less joked and laughed with them. I liked the atmosphere in their home. Ardeshir, Mansoureh’s son, had started crawling. He was very sweet and kept throwing himself into my arms. I felt well and I laughed from the bottom of my heart.
‘Well, thank God, the bride knows how to laugh,’ Hamid’s mother said joyfully. ‘We hadn’t seen her laughter.’
‘In fact, she looks so much more beautiful when she laughs, with those dimples in her cheeks,’ Mansoureh added. ‘I swear, if I were you I would always laugh.’ I blushed and looked down. Mansoureh went on, ‘See, brother. See what a beautiful girl we found for you. Say thank you.’
Hamid laughed. ‘I am much obliged.’
‘What is the matter with all of you?’ Manijeh said, sulking. ‘Why are you acting like you’ve never seen a human being before?’
Then she walked out of the living room and her mother said, ‘Leave her alone. After all, she was always her brother’s pet. Oh, I am so happy. Now that I see you two together, I feel so relieved. I thank God a hundred thousand times. Now I can fulfil my pledge at the house of Go
d.’
Just then, Hamid’s father walked in and we stood up to greet him. He kissed me on the forehead and gently said, ‘Well, Miss Bride. How are you? I hope my son hasn’t been bothering you.’
I blushed and looked down and quietly said, ‘No, he hasn’t.’
‘If he ever does, come and tell me. I will pull his ear so hard that he won’t dare ever upset you again.’
‘Dear Dad, please don’t,’ Hamid said, laughing. ‘You’ve pulled our ears so much that we are all long-eared.’
While we were saying our goodbyes, his mother drew me aside and said, ‘Listen, my dear, ever since the olden days it has been said that you have to establish the terms of your marriage from the very first night. Stand firm. I don’t mean fight with him; instead, use good humour and kindness. You will find the way. After all, you are a woman. Flirt, coquette, sulk and charm. In short, don’t let him stay out late at night and in the morning send him to work on time. You have to cut his friends out of your life. And, God willing, get pregnant soon. Don’t give him a break. Once he has a couple of kids around him, he will forget all about his tomfooleries. Show me your grit.’
The Book of Fate Page 13