My name is Sohrab, brother of
Rustam, and a native of my beloved Esfahan in the land of Persia. My parents
were dreamers of the past and gave me a name that is a good name among the
children of Persia for it is a Persian, and not a religious, name such as
Mohammad or Ali. My parents loved and admired the history of our former
greatness, and they thought to preserve a part of that greatness by giving me a
name of ancient renown. My name might even be considered a classic name in
Esfahan since there are many things that are classic about my city. The
Masjid-i-Shah mosque overshadows the street on which I live. It is also
anciently constructed at a time when the Kings of Persia (Shahs) were notable
world figures – around four hundred years ago.
As a boy growing up, I heard the story of Rustam and Sohrab repeated many times
from the ‘Epic of the Kings” or, the Shahnemeh. These were heroes and
brave. But I want to tell you about my feelings of Persia and how the
Masjid-i-Shah mosque affects those feelings. First of all, it is a gigantic
structure with azure blue décor and many intricate patterns adorning its walls.
The prayer towers stand as guards over our ancient city to plead the mercy of
Allah on all who live here. During the time of Shah Abbas, there were polo
games organized around the mosque’s ball ground that were attended by the
royalty of Europe and many European polo-ist participated in the games. Our
people took our faith quite seriously, but we did not allow it, in those days,
to shut out the world from our understanding. We had great poets such as Rumi,
Saadi, and Hafez. Even Edgar Allen Poe makes reference to our “poet of Shiraz.”
When I view our great mosque from my low place on the ground, I am reminded by
its vastness of the greatness of our land. I am reminded of Omar Khayyam and
the beautiful poem written of him by the pen of his own hand – perhaps a
thousand years ago.
I am secretly in love with a young girl named Simin, but I do not know if she
cares for me. I am not allowed to talk with girls since it is against the
counsel of the mullahs. Why this is so, I do not know. I have watched Simin
from a distance and see that she is sweet and kind. She walks with the grace of
a beautiful sailing vessel. If only I could tell her what is in my heart, but
Allah forbids it! I have watched the mullahs present the law of Allah many
times at the great mosque, but it seems that Allah has many masks. Many years
ago, he was benevolent and accepting of other peoples of the Book, but now he
seems to have discovered that all people, except his people, are only worthy of
death. I do not know why Allah changed his thinking, but I am sure he has good
cause since the mullahs say that he does have. Perhaps feelings of love are not
according to Allah’s will?
Today, as I was walking to my madrasah on Abbass-abad Street, I chanced to meet
Simin and her mother coming towards me. I was embarrassed, but I kept on
walking. I tried to play the man and look Simin right in the eyes, but she was
so very modest. Even though she was wearing a chador (veil), she averted her
eyes away at the last minute. But, for some reason, I was so very happy for the
rest of the day at seeing Simin. I dared to dream that I might actually be
able, someday, to tell her how I felt and that she might respond in the same
way; but who knows? Perhaps she is a devout Moslem who fears Allah and believes
the latest mask that Allah wears forbids love and kindness to all who do not
follow precisely his teaching from the Quran. Even though the merchants
in the Bazaar are obedient to Allah, they still swindle people of their last
rial by deceitful practices, yet these same people would never even think of
stealing outright because Allah forbids it. I wonder: does Simin believe this
way? In the past, the great mosque was the center of culture for the Shah and
people of Esfahan, but the Shah is no more, and Allah seems to have the
Masjid-i-Shah mosque all to himself. So there are no more polo games for Allah
forbids that too.
Perhaps my fascination with the great mosque is that it holds the memories of
great historical events of national importance as well as the stories of
beautiful moments of literary accomplishment of times past within its
mysterious and foreboding walls. It’s beautiful hues of blue remind me of the
Persian sky, filled with stars gleaming through the pristine air. It is a jewel
of the high desert. Before its being built, there were many who called
themselves ‘Zoroastrians’ who lived in our city. They still have a holy
mountain on which a fire is kept and never allowed to go out. I wonder if Allah
believes these people, too, were an unworthy people, for most of them left
Persian and went to India or some other land. Now there is only Allah that remains,
and his home seems to be the great mosque. Allah is not a teller of stories. He
only speaks through the ancient words written in the Quran. The words are
strong and beautiful, but do we not need food for our imaginations as well as
our souls?
Since the Masjid-i-Shah mosque has stood in the same place for many centuries
and has watched as kings and poets, warriors and merchants have passed beneath
its tall towers, I wonder if it may not be the witness of another more
wonderful masks of Allah in the future. Who knows what glorious history may yet
be written on the sands of the high desert of Persia? I am sure the great
mosque will approve of the beauty of the past being repeated in the lines of
the future. But, Allah forbid, perhaps the wise poet, Omar Khayyam, has
understood the matter aright:
"The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ,
Moves
on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to
cancel half a Line,
Nor all
thy Tears wash out a Word of it."
In any case, that which will be, will be, Inshah-allah (if Allah wills)!
My name is Sohrab, brother of Rustam, and I live in the shadow of the great
mosque of Masjid-i-Shah!
©2013
Jerry Ogles - While living
in Iran, I was impressed with some of the virtues of the culture that were
holdovers from the glorious past of Persia. I wrote this little story a few
months back and thought you might enjoy reading it.
