The Days Without Mirror (Part 5)

2018-12-18

The Days Without Mirror (Part 5)

Memoirs of Manijeh Lashgari; The wife of released pilot, Hossein Lashgari

Edited by: Golestan Ja’farian

Translator: Zahra Hosseinian

Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company

‎2016 (Persian Version)‎

On February 1^st 1979, Mr. Khomeini came to Iran. At that time, Hossein did his military service at the Dezful Air Base. I kept listening to the news, because the Air Force was the first branch joining the revolutionaries. I did not say anyone, but I was worried about Hossein. I was afraid that the government made life difficult for pilots. We knew that Hossein was a religious, revolutionary, and opposed to the Pahlavi regime.

Just a few days after the victory of the revolution on February 11^th 1979, Hossein came to our house and when the house was not crowded spoke with my mother about proposing marriage to me. He said that he went to Qazvin and would return along with his parents at the weekend. ‘No, dear Hossein,’ my mother said, ‘don’t do that. I should first talk to my husband. I don’t think that he agrees Manijeh gets married before Azar does.’

My mother immediately shared the story with me: ‘What do you think about Hossein?’

‘Mom, I don’t even know Hossein. After all, what about Azar?’ I replied.

My mother said, ‘Hossein says that he’ll even wait until Azar gets married if we accept his proposing.’

‘I don’t know; it’s up to daddy. But I should speak with him one or two times. I don’t know him at all.’

When my father became aware of the story, said: ‘I agree. He comes from a noble family, and also he is one of our relatives. But, what about my older daughter Azar?’

I remember it was twenty three or twenty four of February. Schools were shut down earlier than any other year due to the revolution and for the changes that had to be made in them. We had taken all furniture out of the rooms and placed them in the big porch to do house cleaning. My mother, Haj Khanum, my sisters, and two maids all were busy working.

The next door was Mr. Saeedi’s house which had a porch exactly symmetrical to ours. These two porches were separated by a short wall. Hossein was in Tehran and apparently in Mr. Saeedi's house. He had realized that something was happening in our house. So, he appeared in the porch and called me while I was busy sweeping the rugs. I stood by the wall. We greeted.

‘Your mother spoke with you about my proposing, Manijeh?’ Hossein asked.

‘Yeah’ I answered.

‘I wish your parents let us to speak with each other in one or two meetings! Well, you don’t know me. And your family is not like to let us to go out one or two times...’

‘How cheeky he is!’ I said to myself, ‘he thought here is like the USA and I have permission to have date with him...’ I was drowned in my thoughts when my mother appeared in the porch and began greeting with Hossein. ‘Ma’am,’ Hossein took the opportunity and told my mother, ‘please ask Mr. Lashgari to permit me and Manijeh to speak with each other in one or two meetings in your presence.’

When my mother and Hossein were talking to each other, I was drawn to Hossein's clothes; he had worn a pair of jeans with a white and blue checkered shirt. It was near Nowruz and the weather was good. Hossein had worn a spring grey jacket over his shirt too. The smell of his perfume was always felt before his presence. He was seemed to me as a clean man with strong personality.

My mother mumbled, ‘well…my husband’s not yet given me any proper answer ... but I’ll give it a try.’

My mother loved Hossein and it was in his benefit. Because all things went on as Hossein wanted to.

A meeting was appointed for Hossein and me, but my brother was unknown and it was going to be held in an afternoon when he wasn't at home.

My mother and Hossein had sat at the drawing room. Haj Khanum, my father's first wife, gave me a tray in which there was some cups of tea and said: ‘Go girl ... trust in God, don’t be afraid...’

With a tray in my hand I entered the room. I put the cups of tea on the table and sat down on an armchair near the door. My mother put one of two plates, which were full of peeled fruits, in front of Hossein and the other one in front of me. Then she said, ‘all right, I'll let you alone to speak with each other.’ and went.

Hossein looked around and said, ‘Manijeh, you've sat too far away. I think I won’t hear your voice at all. Please come closer to the extent of two armchairs.’

He was right; the drawing-room was big; he had sat down at one side of the room, and I had sat down at the other side. I felt if I got closer to him even one step, had no control over the surroundings and could not speak easily. I pull myself together and said: ‘No, I’m more comfortable to be here.’

‘Ok.’ He said and picked up the cup of tea, drank a sip, and said, ‘oh, it’s hot!" And put the cup in the saucer and began, ‘you know, I should first tell you why chose you.’ again I said to myself, ‘how cheeky he is! How soon he addresses me so informally...’

Then he continued: ‘Your mother is a patient housewife who’s good at public relations. My first reason is the personality of your mother. My second reason for choosing you is that I really love you and want you to be my wife. But if you give me a positive answer, I'd like you to wear a scarf and be properly dressed.’

Those days, there was still no manteau, and ladies who wanted to have hijab, wore coat and skirt, and a scarf. That day, I had worn a pair of jeans with shiny long sleeve blouse. My hair was long and thick; I wore my hair in a bun.

‘When we’re going to go to my friends' house, I want you to be dignified and with strong personality, just like you are now. I want you not to make up...’ Hossein said.

I looked at the floral motives of the rug. I could not raise my head. ‘Making-up isn’t my favorite at all.’ I said gently.

He said: ‘right, it’s not now; it makes a difference when you get married. But that time, I don’t like you to have make-up. I wish you’ll be a good housewife; the house will be organized, and it shouldn’t be ok if it’ll be in a mess. I want the order of life to be important to you...’

I raised my head and saw he has eaten all the fruits my mother had peeled, but I could not even drink a sip of tea.

Hossein talked comfortably, as if I was his wife for a few years. When I addressed him very formally, he said: ‘come off it! I confuse when you speak like that.’

I was a little shocked by his informal and intimate tone. ‘What do you expect me?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know how to cook.’ I replied, ‘at home, my dad always says: ‘not to be hard on girls.’ They should be like queens in their father’s house. Maids do house works. I want you to know these.’

‘It doesn’t matter, you learn it little by little.’ he said, ‘I myself train you. It's important that cleanliness and tidiness of house to be important to you by nature. I hate disorganized and dirty house.’

I smiled and said: ‘Don’t worry! I'll surely bring a vacuum cleaner in my dowry, because I can’t bend and sweep the house with a broom every day.’

We both laughed. ‘Well, what else are you going to say?’ he continued.

‘If you took me away to live in another town, bring me very soon to Tehran to see my mother and family. Being away is very difficult for me.’

He nodded kindly and said: ‘Sure. Put your mind at ease.’

We talked for two hours, then he got up. His clothe just caught my attention. Unlike always he had not dressed informally; he wore a grey suit with a bright blue shirt.

That night, all the words I had with Hossein circulated in my head. I had reviewed them ten times, but I couldn’t sleep, and they were repeated in my mind again and again.

Hossein seemed to me a well-spoken, sincere, and honest man. He was a twenty-six young man, who studied in America, handsome, and pilot, but when he began talking to me, was such a sincere that I forgot his job and level of his education.

Hossein was not that kind of men who first praised themselves and say if they choose a girl to get married with, she thanks God and becomes his wife. Even though I knew him a little, I felt that I love him.

The next day, Hossein went to the Vahdati air base in Dezful. Then, he had gone to Qazvin and shared the story with his parents. His mother, apparently, had disagreed and said, ‘Right here, in Qazvin, in the family, you have many cousins; why did you choose a stranger girl? She’s from Tehran and doesn’t wear hijab. She’s not fit for our family.’

Hossein's family was religious. His mother and sisters wore complete hijab. Their religion was not related to the revolution. Hossein's father was gardener in Qazvin. He was an open-minded man. ‘My son’s no longer a common man;’ he had said, ‘he’s educated in America. We can’t expect him to like a girl that we do.’

To be continued…