A Hundred Sweet Promises

by Sepehr Haddad

  Nasrollah was surprised by his father’s request, but at the same time, did not mind showing off his skills at the keyboard. He took a few moments to warm his fingers and take in the musical notes and then proceeded to play the piece. After he finished delivering an impassioned performance, tears of joy began to flow from the eyes of his proud—and now satisfied—father.

  Once Nasrollah finished, Salar Moazaz hugged his son, kissed him on both cheeks, and said, “Congratulations, my son. Welcome home!”

  Salar Moazaz had big plans for his son, as he and Nasrollah had grown quite close during their stay in Russia. Salar Moazaz hoped his son would follow in his footsteps, first as a military musician, and then as a professor at the Dar Al-Funun.

  However, in the two years since Salar Moazaz left Russia and Nasrollah had lived alone in St. Petersburg, the son felt he had become his own man, and he had other ideas for his future. Nasrollah harbored the desire for a quick return to Russia to continue his studies at the conservatory with Professor Rimsky-Korsakov. His domineering father would soon realize he was dealing with a different-minded son than the one he had left in Russia a few years back.

  After a few weeks of settling in, Nasrollah became acutely aware that his father was irritated with him. Salar Moazaz was surprised that Nasrollah seemed to lack interest in teaching the new music. Every time Salar Moazaz had tried to discuss his son’s future plans, Nasrollah was able to either change the subject or politely excuse himself when he felt the conversation was leading in that direction. But Nasrollah felt the pressure slowly building as his impatient father was on the lookout for an opening to broach the subject. Nasrollah could only hold him off for so long, until one day, Salar Moazaz had waited long enough.

  “Son, you have had enough time to settle in, and now it is time for you to join me in my work. These past seven years, you have completed all the music studies necessary to help me transform music education in this country. It is your duty to your family and your homeland!”

  Nasrollah, having anticipated this conversation, tried to remain calm and convincing. “My esteemed father, I sincerely believe that I could be of better service to my country by continuing my studies and having the opportunity such as my peers in St. Petersburg to write, conduct, and perform symphonies. Especially where there is an audience that understands such things. You know full well, there are only a few in our whole country who can even appreciate this art when they hear it.”

  Nasrollah delicately cleared his throat. “Was it not you, dear Father, who in despondence wrote to me that some Persians enjoy hearing the tuning of instruments more than the performance itself, only because it sounds more like traditional Persian music to them? I would rather not spend my time teaching at this point in my life, especially to people who do not have a yearning for the beauty of this new music. Instead, I want to compose for those who already have an evolved taste for it. That is why I must be in St. Petersburg.”

  Salar Moazaz was shocked at this unexpected and arrogant response his son had offered. He tried reasoning with Nasrollah. “There are many talented students right here at home who need guidance and direction to be taught an appreciation for this new music.”

  Noticing that his son was not convinced, Salar Moazaz wondered why Nasrollah rejected this opportunity, in light of all he had done for him. He raised his voice in frustration. “You are extremely selfish! Why do you only think of your own fame? This is the height of arrogance to regard your own countrymen as unworthy of your attention but to think that foreigners are. Try to be humble. Humility provides a certain clarity, whereby arrogance clouds one’s mind.”

  Nasrollah, who was not expecting his father to get so agitated, remained silent. Salar Moazaz caught himself, realizing he needed to convince his son rather than scold him. Trying to sound calmer, he offered Nasrollah a more persuasive reason to stay in Persia. “Where would you even study now that Russia is going through political tumult, with the demands of constitutional reform and all the chaos? No one knows when the conservatory will accept students again, so you should put these thoughts out of your mind!”

  Nasrollah had expected that his father would ask him this obvious question and had a prepared response. “Some of my fellow students from the conservatory were taking private lessons from Professor Korsakov since his dismissal, and even if the conservatory does not reopen, I plan to do the same.”

  Sensing his son’s fierce determination, an exasperated Salar Moazaz temporarily relented but made a request of Nasrollah that he stay in Persia for at least one year. He suggested that during this time, his son assist him with his ambitious but complicated plan.

  As his final pronouncement on the issue, Salar Moazaz told Nasrollah, “After that, then go and pursue your own dreams,” to which his son reluctantly agreed.

  When Nasrollah left the room, Salar Moazaz turned to his wife and said, “Khanoom”—Madame—“you will immediately begin searching for an appropriate girl from a respectable family to become his wife. We need to tether him to his homeland, for he is like a boat with no anchor, being swayed by every wind that blows.” Unbeknownst to Nasrollah, the search for a wife had begun.

  Nasrollah retreated from this confrontation feeling defeated and depressed. After the initial excitement of seeing his family, the reality of what he had given up by coming home became apparent.

  As the days went by, his family and servants treated him with extra attention as a sign of respect, but also with deferential awe, for he was like a foreigner to them. He dressed differently, and his personal habits reflected the many years he had lived abroad. He had become used to conducting most of his own affairs with the help of just a few attendants in St. Petersburg. But now, he was always uncomfortable with the many people and servants surrounding him. Where he had the freedom to come and go as he pleased before, now his family was curious whenever he left the house.

  In Russia, Nasrollah was used to spending his days amongst other talented musicians and having a steady stream of exciting ideas and creative pursuits in the company of his elite cadre of friends. But here in Persia, there was no one to share his views, and he was especially disappointed that his father, who had been his closest confidant in St. Petersburg, was now not in agreement with him.

  Nasrollah carried on as best as possible, following Salar Moazaz’s directive to introduce modern music to Persia. This was no small task, and when he was not met with outright resistance, the sheer challenge of bringing an entirely new music method to an ancient, tradition-bound culture was sometimes overwhelming. However, there were moments when he found teaching music personally rewarding, especially when his students caught on to the new methods he introduced.

  The year passed quickly, and in 1906, Nasrollah was officially recognized when the new king, Mozaffar Ad-Din Shah, appointed him as director of one of the military band’s divisions. Along with this appointment, the king also bestowed upon Nasrollah the honorary title of Nasrosoltan.

  This was a joyous occasion for Salar Moazaz, who had been decorated by the shah’s late father, and now his own son was awarded such an honor. This event validated Salar Moazaz’s plan for Nasrollah as he had envisioned to continue the family’s legacy. Salar Moazaz now saw himself as the head of what was becoming an influential family in the musical history of Persia, the Minbashians.

  Nasrollah was incredibly proud of his new title and, from then on, preferred to be called Nasrosoltan, at least in public. These titles were akin to medals pinned on a chest, but they were better in the sense that unlike a medal, which would be shed with the uniform's removal, this title became a part of a new identity. Every time he was addressed, this honor reinforced and elevated not only his status but also respect for the entire Minbashian family.

  Nasrosoltan had also become aware of his mother’s efforts to find him a wife, and he was displeased. As he had told his friend Rustam back in Moscow, he did not want to be a passive spectator in life but wanted to create his own destiny. Therefore, Nasrosoltan n
ever took the idea of marrying seriously, rejecting the anchor of matrimony his parents planned to use to hold him in place. To his family’s disappointment, their match-making efforts were futile.

  Nasrosoltan was also feeling overshadowed by his father in Tehran, with Salar Moazaz maintaining a firm grip on his affairs. Back in Russia, living with his father as a teenager, Nasrosoltan had appreciated Salar Moazaz’s total control and had no issue with him making all the decisions. But having returned to Tehran, he was alarmed at the level of his father’s influence on his daily life, as Salar Moazaz was deeply involved and even decided the smallest of matters on his behalf.

  Nasrosoltan realized he needed to make a change to set a healthy boundary between him and his strong-willed father. But Russia was still reeling from the tumultuous political events of the past year, and he was not yet prepared to return to St. Petersburg. So, Nasrosoltan quietly began to look to his friends and family acquaintances for a way out of his predicament.

  At the same time, Tehran was experiencing its own quest for constitutional reform. Protestors demonstrated forcefully for more freedom, especially from foreign interference and the shah’s oppressive policies. These protests led to the first significant democratic movement in Persia and in the Middle East region when Mozaffar Ad-Din Shah signed the Persian Constitution of 1906.

  The signing of this document was a considerable achievement as it established a parliament and a constitutional monarchy. The constitution incorporated progressive and liberal democratic values such as freedom of the press, freedom of political parties, and separation of religion and politics.

  Despite the promising beginnings of this newfound freedom, there were still ongoing protests and demonstrations resulting in deadly skirmishes between the opposing parties throughout the capital city.

  Nasrosoltan’s search for a way out of Tehran finally yielded the desired result when he received a generous offer from a family friend, the commander of Shiraz’s garrison. The proposal was for Nasrosoltan to become the leader of the military band there. Even though the position was not as prestigious as his current one, the compensation and supporting benefits were significant, and this would allow him the independence he sought.

  When Nasrosoltan shared the offer's details with his father, Salar Moazaz was disappointed that his son acted against his advice and agreed to accept the position in Shiraz.

  The day before his departure, his mother, Khata Khanoom, arranged a gathering at their home for the extended family and close friends who wanted to come and personally wish him well in his new endeavor. Food preparation for such an event was always a several-day affair, and so Khata Khanoom spent most of her time in the kitchen to ensure a successful farewell feast.

  A Persian kitchen is a beautiful place, at least to the eyes and nose of an Iranian. Persian food is a stunning combination of spices, meats, rice dishes, stews, and pastries, and it is rare that the food ever runs out since so much is made that it is always too much.

  Nasrosoltan’s mother was preparing food for about fifty people, so many cauldrons were on the fire for the rice and stews. The smell of grilling onions and eggplants and hints of saffron and other aromatic spices, with the ever-present steam rising from the cooking rice, was the perfect picture of her kitchen, and her kitchen was her domain. Here Khata Khanoom was not the quiet lady everyone knew; she was still graceful in character, but here she was in charge, giving commands where necessary to make sure the food was prepared and presented according to her high standards. Her power was the food.

  Khata Khanoom was good at cooking because she paid attention to detail—an attention she paid to most things she did. That is why Nasrosoltan wanted to talk to her alone before he left. His mother had a hold on him that he could not explain, and like most mothers, she was the glue that kept the family together. But, in hindsight, a place where Khata Khanoom felt in command might not have been the best place to discuss a subject she wanted to have none of.

  Nasrosoltan said, “Dear Mother, I will miss you while in Shiraz, but I do not intend to stay there long, only for a short while, and God willing, I will be back soon. But you should know that when I do come back, I plan to return to Russia soon after that. So please, do not search any longer to find me a wife. And I beg of you to not tell your friends in Shiraz that I am interested in finding someone. I am going to be extremely busy, and I will not have time for that kind of socializing.”

  Out of character, and to Nasrosoltan’s surprise, Khata Khanoom forcefully replied, “My son, don’t think so highly of yourself. I now see you have been away from us for too long; this is no way to talk to your mother the day before leaving. You do not know what you want. You do not even know what is good or bad for you. Do not worry; I think with this attitude, there will not be many women showing an interest in you anyway. Maybe your new title has gone to your head! Don’t you know the path to up is down?”

  Nasrosoltan tried to calm her, sensing that she was agitated, and said, “Dearest Mother, what do you mean the path to up is down? What you say does not make sense.”

  She replied, “My son, I will tell you, but this is for sure: life will teach you! Up is the direction everyone wants to go because up is where people think they will find fame and glory. However, if you want to build a tall building, you must first dig down to lay a deep foundation. If not, at the sign of any trembling, the building will crack and eventually fall. Humble yourself under God’s mighty hand, and don’t embarrass yourself any further with this kind of talk!”

  Khata Khanoom may not have said these things if she were not in her kitchen, but that is where she felt comfortable enough to say them. And she believed in what she had said. Now that the words were out, she was relieved. From the moment of Nasrosoltan’s return from Russia, she had been harboring an intense dislike of her son’s love affair for St. Petersburg, as if his own country were not good enough and everything in Russia was better.

  Her words reminded Nasrosoltan that his mother still had much power to affect his mood. Recalling Khata Khanoom’s temperament from his childhood, he knew she had always been his faithful looking glass. She would tell him off when necessary, if he was doing or saying something he should not, and then she would give him an ice-cold shoulder that nothing could melt. Through trial and error, he had learned that only time could end these one-sided standoffs. But he was leaving the next morning, so he did not have time, and he needed to finish it right there. So he tried to salvage the situation by appealing to her superstitious side, pleading, “Dearest Mother, forgive me. I did not mean for you to get upset. Please, do not be hurt. I am leaving tomorrow, and if you are angry, it will not bring good fortune for my trip!”

  From her body language and brandishing of a half smile, he could sense that she relented. He then kissed her face on both cheeks, as a sign of his love and respect, after which she hurried him out of the kitchen, saying, “All right, I am not upset anymore, but now go, my son; a man should not smell of the kitchen!”

  Chapter 6

  The Leader of the Band

  Shiraz, Persia, 1907

  Shiraz holds a special place in all Persian hearts, for it is the birthplace and resting place of two of the country’s most revered poets, Hafez and Sa’adi. In addition to being famous for its beautiful gardens, Shiraz is also the capital of the province of Fars, the seat of the first-ever world empire in nearby Persepolis.

  Salar Moazaz was not happy with his son’s decision to accept this position in Shiraz. He felt the capital city was where his son had a future for introducing the new music. A more disturbing thought to him was about the position itself since Salar Moazaz was not keen on Nasrosoltan becoming involved with the family of the garrison’s commander.

  The commander was the son of the famous and powerful governor of the province, Qavam Al-Molk Shirazi, a wealthy landowner and a member of one of the region’s most prominent families. He had publicly declared his allegiance to the new constitutional monarchy; however, there was a feeling
that, in fact, he was just paying lip service to the desires of the democratic reformers. Qavam Al-Molk had no intention of giving up or even sharing his tremendous power over the region to this new democratic idealism.

  Salar Moazaz and Nasrosoltan were not only forward-thinking in their desire to bring modern music to Persia, but they were also politically progressive. It was apparent to both of them that the concentration of wealth and privilege amongst the elites had held the country back from much-needed improvements.

  Father and son had traveled and lived abroad and welcomed the culture and liberal ideas of Europe, wanting to see similar thinking take root in Persia. That is why Salar Moazaz and Nasrosoltan sympathized with the constitutionalists’ intentions to promote democratic reforms in their country.

  Salar Moazaz’s suspicion of the commander’s family’s true allegiance concerned him, and he did not want his son to be embroiled in any political drama. But Nasrosoltan paid no heed to his father’s alarm and traveled to Shiraz in 1907. The position intrigued him, and he saw it not only as a way of regaining his independence from his overbearing father but also as an adventure to live in this enticing “city of the poets, literature, and wine.” As the conductor of the military band, Nasrosoltan believed he would have the necessary autonomy to introduce his unique ideas about music without external interference.

  Upon arriving in Shiraz, Nasrosoltan marveled at the pleasant weather and sculpted gardens. The commander welcomed Nasrosoltan with an outpouring of respect and the appropriate amount of pomp and circumstance, which made him feel highly esteemed as an honored guest.

  Nasrosoltan had first become acquainted with the commander while they were childhood classmates in Tehran. Nasrosoltan had not seen him since then but was surprised that not much had changed in his physical appearance. The commander was still short and stocky with a round face and small eyes, but now his mouth was framed by a well-trimmed bristly black goatee covering most of his lower sunburned face. He was dressed in his military suit and cap, adorned with various medals, a small pistol at his side, and an ornate jewel-encrusted decorative dagger on his belt.