Molla Aman ran out to the alley. The light of a lantern was accompanying shadowy outlines. Molla Aman stepped forward and then suddenly stopped. He saw Raghiyeh, Ali Genav’s wife, limping ahead with a crutch under her right arm. But it seemed she was also holding something in her left hand, a tray. In the middle of the tray was a copper bowl, shining with a dim light emanating from inside it, the light of embers. Beside her was the groom himself. Ali Genav was carrying the lantern and was walking slowly to keep pace with his wife. Behind them, Karbalai Doshanbeh, and beside him Hajj Salem followed. At the back, Moslem was following behind his father. As they arrived, Karbalai Doshanbeh stepped beside Raghiyeh and took a few seeds of incense from the tray and placed them into the embers. Hajj Salem called out a prayer. Molla Aman went to greet them; he was very clearly pleased. If all went well tonight, he would be able to load his things and leave first thing in the morning with a clear conscience.
They came into the narrow yard of the house. Mergan brought out her lantern. Raghiyeh stood leaning on her crutch. Mergan also poured a few seeds of incense onto the embers. Molla Aman entered the house, took Hajer by the hand, and brought her out. Hajer was walking with difficulty. She could hardly even stand up straight. Mergan held her by her elbow as the group turned to leave the house, lit by their two lanterns. The surface of the alley was uneven, so the shoes of the bride were that much more unwieldy. They moved slowly; in a way, it was good that Hajer could not walk fast, as Raghiyeh was also pulling herself ahead only with difficulty. That was why they had been late even traversing that short distance to the house. Once they arrived, Mergan took Hajer into the pantry of Ali Genav’s house. The nuptial bedroom was to be there. Ali Genav had prepared the bed already. Hajer took off her shoes, and Mergan came out. The guests sat in the room just beside the pantry. Raghiyeh did not join the guests; she was standing by the oven holding onto her crutch. Mergan went to prepare the dinner. Raghiyeh was silent, but despite this Mergan was still uneasy. As a woman, she understood her perfectly.
God forbid it were I! I should bite my tongue!
Mergan could easily imagine a day when this weak and broken woman would try to harm Hajer.
The meat was cooked. Mergan took the pot and brought it into the room. Ali Genav had laid out a cloth and had set the bread and yogurt on it. Moslem and his father were on one side. Molla Aman and Karbalai Doshanbeh were on the other side. Ali Genav and Mergan were to sit on another side. Raghiyeh stayed outside.
The dinner did not take long. Ali Genav quickly cleaned up afterward. Everyone knew that the wedding dinner is usually a different kind of assembly, but in this case it was proportionate to the situation at hand.
“May the blessings of your table be increased. May God bless you!”
“Amen. Amen.”
Hajj Salem had intoned the first prayer. Karbalai Doshanbeh offered the Amens.
Molla Aman found an excuse to break up the gathering, and so helped up Karbalai Doshanbeh to take him outside. Ali Genav pressed a coin into the hand of Moslem and helped him up as well. The men went out and Ali Genav accompanied them to the alley and then returned. As per tradition, Mergan was to stay behind, but Ali Genav also encouraged her to leave.
“Don’t worry, Raghiyeh is here … If we need anything …”
Why does the bride’s mother usually stay behind? To confirm her daughter’s good fortune? But what else could she want?
“Take the leftover stew and give it to the boys. Don’t leave them at home all alone!”
* * *
Mergan’s sons were sitting in the darkness, silent and blind. Mergan relit the lamp that had gone out in the alley. Abrau was leaning against a wall. It looked as if he’d just come back from work. These days his clothes were, head to foot, covered in oil. He spoke much less, as if he had suddenly aged. He had grown serious. He acted older than his age. It was as if something had been added to him, something that Mergan didn’t want to know about. She simply sensed that now she was dealing with a man rather than a boy. A man who in some ways was trying to become a stranger to her. There were aspects to Abrau’s life that were no longer in Mergan’s hands. They were now in the hands of others. It was as if he came from somewhere else. He was a stranger to Mergan, but strangely also a cause for her to feel proud. What can be more pleasurable for a mother than to see her son become a man? Even if this son, this man, has in a sense also stabbed her in the back by selling her portion of their land in his name.
Mergan placed a bowl of the meat stew before Abbas and then called Abrau over. He moved over and she brought them dry bread, which they broke and sprinkled into the stew. Abrau asked about his uncle. Mergan said, “I have a feeling he’s gone out with Karbalai Doshanbeh.”
Abrau said, “Mirza said to say hello, and that you should come by to get your money from him whenever you’d like.”
Mergan replied, “Tell him to save his money. I won’t sell!”
Abrau said nothing more. Abbas was eating the food in large mouthfuls.
Molla Aman came in.
“This guy just won’t leave me alone. He’s a real bastard, you know!”
Mergan didn’t reply, and didn’t raise her head. She didn’t want to discuss Karbalai Doshanbeh in front of her sons. She busied herself with some task.
Molla Aman sat beside the pot of stew and began to eat as well.
“He didn’t even let me have a real dinner! It’s as if we’re living in a famine; half of my stomach is still empty! So … good for you, our hero, my boy! Tell us, what kind of a beast is this tractor anyway?”
Abrau didn’t take his focus off of his competitors for the stew from the pot, replying, “It starts a racket and just keeps going!”
“Well, well, the times have changed. Who would have expected it?”
Abrau said, “When you head up to the higher villages, ask around. If anyone has land they need ploughed, they can hire us. We just finished ploughing God’s Land this afternoon.”
Molla Aman replied, “That’s not bad. Let’s see what’ll happen. And will I get a broker’s fee?”
“From just saying a few words?”
“Well, yes. These days, even husbands have to pay their wives compensation for work. So you want me to do work for Mirza Hassan for free? Why? Because you think I like the look of him so much?”
“It’s not for Mirza Hassan; it’s more for me. The tractor shouldn’t be left unused for even an hour, you know? As long as the chug, chug of the tractor is going, I’m working. If there’s no work, and the tractor goes quiet, I’ll have to pack my bags like the others and leave the village. You see these pants I’m wearing? I bought them for twenty-eight tomans. You have to spend money just to live!”
Molla Aman said, “Let me see! How many pockets does it have?”
Abrau rose and turned around himself, while still licking his fingers.
“Four of ’em. And it has a little pocket right here, next to the waistband!”
“Good. So you can fit all your extra money into the pockets! It seems Mirza Hassan’s paying you a decent wage?”
“He does, and why not?”
“So that’s all right. Have you borrowed from him as well?”
“Ah … not that much, but a bit. He gives me enough for food and clothing and …”
“Does he save the rest for you? Or does he hold it in escrow?”
“Escrow for what?”
“Nothing! I’m just kidding around. So, do you have a bit of change so we can play a game of dominoes?”
“No, and even if I did, I don’t want to gamble. I have to sleep pretty soon. In the mornings, I can hardly get up since I’m so tired. Mama, can you clean this up!”