Seyyed of Quarters 15 (7)

Memories of Iranian Released POW, Seyyed Jamal Setarehdan

2016-11-26

Seyyed of Quarters 15

Memories of Iranian Released POW, Seyyed Jamal Setarehdan

Edited and Compiled by: Sassan Nateq

Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company

‎2016 (Persian Version)‎

Translated by: Zahra Hosseinian

From a few days ago, radio and television broadcasted the attack marsh and we heard different news about clashes of fighters in Faw. I felt apprehension each time I heard about an operation. I was waiting for bad news each moment. Those days I heard the body of some martyrs has been brought to Ardabil for obsequies. After preparing the coffins and spraying them with rose water, people accompanied the martyrs’ funeral in front of Mirza Ali Akbar mosque. As soon as I heard it, went to the mosque along with Davood Noori[1]. Do martyrs' families of martyrs and people still had not gathered for funeral. We were entering the mosque, when a young man put his hand on my chest and said, "Where are you going?"

• We want to help.
• Not possible, some guys are busy doing it. 

We begged and said that we liked to take a share in the preparation of the martyrs. He stepped aside and we entered the mosque. Some ones were busy preparing the coffins. One of them was sprinkling rose-water. To my surprise, I saw the name of Hussein Ganjgahi[2] and Reza Kouhkamari[3] on the coffins. Ganjgahi was responsible for the staff in 31 Ashura Division, but in the continuation of Valfajr8 operation he was the commander of Hazrat Abolfazl (AS) battalion. Kouhkamari was the deputy of company3 in Qasim (AS) battalion.

Some of martyrs had been laid inside coffins with their very dusty clothes and bloody head and face. They opened the lids of coffins, sprinkled rose-water on martyrs, and then closed it. I knelt beside one of the coffins. As soon as I opened its lid, a dazzling light shone on my face. It was like a white bird, suddenly flew out from inside the coffin. My heart throb increased. I felt weak at my knees. I sat down and I said: "B-ismi-llāhi r-raḥmāni r-raḥīmi."

"Shahid Davar Gebraeeli" was written on the coffin. Unlike other martyrs, Davar's body had been wrapped in a shroud and the light which shone from inside the coffin was because of whiteness of shroud.

Jamshid Jabari also had martyred by direct bullet of one of the Iraqi tanks in Valfajr8 operation. He always wanted to be called ‘Abdullah’[4]. Jafar, the brother of Abdullah, was student of teacher training in Tabriz, and studied there. Students of teacher training in Tabriz had arranged a memorial service for martyrdom of their classmate's brother. We agreed to go to Tabriz with Jafar and a few others.

The day came and me and Jafar, Khabazahsani, Adel Molaee, Naser'ali Sufi and a few others rode a minibus and headed Tabriz. Khabazahsani whispered Ahangaran’s song. Like him I whispered it too.

• “Oh Ali’s mihrab… bloody site of Ali’s murder… the cause of Ali’s murder… Ali’s justice…”

Adel Molaee was a clergyman and sometimes his words were tinged with humor. In the way he read some poetry of Hafez and Saadi for us. I was sunk in thinking and daydreaming when I remembered one of Fakhri Abadani’s songs. The memory of our friends’ martyrdom had caused I felt like crying, and contrary to my will, my voice echoed inside the minibus. Those who were speaking fell silent.

• Said “Ow, bird! I see your feathers in blood / said if you have come from Karbabla trip...”

I was singing and my friends’ tears flowed on their cheeks.

A school had been prepared for our settlement. It was arranged the event held at sunset. Molaei had removed his turban. Naser'ali Sufi picked Molaei’s turban when we were going to the memorial service. I kept an eye on him. I liked to know what he wants to do. He put the turban on his head. I thought he would like to joke with guys, but when he turned toward me I saw his sorrowful look and his eyes full of tears. He looked away. He stood toward Kiblah and hummed something.

Students’ program was simple and intimate. After reciting the Quran, a lecturer spoke and then they sang a dirge. We returned to Ardebil overnight.

Three or four days later, we had agreed to go to Haft-tan hall and play football at ten o'clock at night. The person who was in charge of hall was my friend. Unluckily my friend wasn’t present that night and the one, who was in place of him, didn’t let us enter. Still we had not changed our black shirts. Bag in hand, we were undecided. I took him to a corner and said: "Listen, brother, they are martyr. They are alive today, maybe they won’t be tomorrow. Why don’t you want to make them happy! "

The man looked at them one by one. He said nothing and opened the door of the hall.

***

It was in the afternoon. I went to Mohammedia mosque. I hadn’t observed my Zuhr and Asr prayers. I was performing ablutions when Karim Daneshparvar entered the mosque. Soon he rolled up his sleeves to perform ablutions. I realized that he wanted to pray behind me. Suddenly I got into mischief. I stood quickly toward Kiblah and pretended that I was praying. I didn’t express my intention and as soon as I recited takbirat al ihram, Karim entered the mosque and said, "ya Allah ... ya Allah[5]."

I was about to laugh because of the idea which was in my mind. Karim stood behind me and began performing prayer. I let him to join me and recite al-Fatiha and Surah. I couldn’t help stopping my laugh. When I wanted to stoop and touch my knees, Karim also stooped and touched his knees. As I just pretending to pray, turned to him and said, "your pray is wrong."

I couldn’t help stopping my laugh any more. What a laugh! He was confused and looked at me bewildered. "Why are you doing this?"

• I didn’t pray. Who told you to follow me?

He laughed. He frowned and said: "What a man you are ..."

He went a little away and prayed.

A few days later, I saw Khabazahsani in the mosque. He had returned from the front three or four days ago. He was busy reciting the Quran near the mihrab. I sat beside him. He kissed the Quran and put it in its place. Then he told me about the operations in which he had participated. We were humming one of Ahangaran’s songs when he said, "Seyyed Jamal!"

• Yeah.
• The operation was begging, I wanted to say ‘May God grants us the grace of martyrdom’, but I couldn’t. I tried two or three times, but I couldn’t say it. But this time I will say it by hook or by crook.

At that moment I didn’t know what to say. He spoke about his wishes and I looked at him in surprise; I was surprised because he spoke about his death for the sake of God so conveniently and yearningly.

To be continued…