The Book of Fate (46 page)

‘She said, it's all done, Siamak will be released very soon.'

‘Like when?' I asked.

‘Perhaps this week.'

‘Oh my God!' I exclaimed. ‘Is it really possible?'

I leaned back on the sofa. Faati was well prepared. She quickly handed me a bottle of nitroglycerine drops and a glass of water. I took the medication and waited until I felt calmer. Then I stood up to leave.

‘Where are you going?' Faati asked.

‘I have to go tidy up his room. If my son is coming home tomorrow, everything has to be neat and ready. There are a thousand things I have to do.'

‘Sit down,' she said quietly. ‘Why can't you ever sit still? To be honest, Mahboubeh said he might be coming home tonight.'

I fell back on the sofa. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Mahboubeh and Mohsen have gone to Evin, just in case they release him today. You have to control your nerves. They may show up any minute. You must stay calm.'

Restless and impatient, every few minutes I asked, ‘What happened? When are they going to get here?'

And then I heard Massoud shout, ‘Siamak!' And I saw my son walk in.

My heart couldn't take all that joy and excitement. I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. I clutched Siamak in my arms. He was thinner and taller than before. I was short of breath. Someone splashed water on my face. Again, I held my son. I touched his face, his eyes, his hands. Was it really my darling Siamak?

Massoud hugged Siamak and cried for an hour. How had this kind and gentle boy, who had bravely shouldered the responsibilities of life and given me hope, kept all those tears inside him for so long?

Laughing and excited by the commotion, Shirin, who was at first a bit reticent, leaped into Siamak's arms.

The night passed with indescribable joy, exhilaration and delirium.

‘I have to see your feet,' I said.

‘Come on, Mum.' Siamak laughed. ‘Don't be ridiculous!'

The first person I called was Mahboubeh's father-in-law. I cried and thanked him and showered him with every term of endearment.

‘I didn't do much,' he said.

‘Yes, you did. You gave me back my son.'

Two days passed in a frenzy of family visits. Mansoureh and Manijeh kept a close eye on their mother who was becoming more fragile, forgetful and confused. She believed Siamak was Hamid.

I had made so many pledges and promises to God that I didn't know where to begin. I dropped everything I had to do and the four of us went on a pilgrimage to Imam Reza's shrine in Mashad. From there we went to Qum to thank my aunt, Mahboubeh, her husband and my saviour angel her father-in-law.

What sweet, happy days. I felt alive again. With my children at my side, nothing could bring me sorrow.

 

Siamak would soon turn eighteen. He had missed one year of school, but because I had entered him in school a year sooner than usual, he was not behind agewise. He had to enrol in school, but given his prison record, they would not accept him. I had always hoped my children would reach the highest levels of education, but now I had to accept the fact that my son would be deprived of even a school diploma.

Not being allowed to finish school was a heavy blow to Siamak. He was agitated and restless. Being idle, staying at home and living an unstructured life was not prudent. Especially since a few of his old friends had started coming around again. Although Siamak didn't seem too interested in them, their presence made me nervous.

Siamak decided to find a job. He saw how hard I worked and how frugally I managed our lives and he wanted to help. But what sort of work could he do? He had no capital to start a small business and no education. At the same time, the war with Iraq was still raging and moving closer to us. I was grappling with these thoughts and worries when one day Mansoureh came to see me and I shared my concerns with her.

‘As a matter of fact, that is exactly why I came to see you,' she said. ‘Siamak has to continue his education. Among the new generation of our family, everyone has gone to university. It is unacceptable for Siamak to not even have a school diploma.'

‘I have looked into it,' I said. ‘He can go to night school and take the general education exams. But he says he wants to work. He says if he can't go to university, a school diploma serves no purpose. With or without it he will have to work and he might as well start now.'

‘Well, Massoum,' she said, ‘I have another plan in mind. I don't know how you will react to it, but please keep it between us.'

‘Of course!' I said, surprised. ‘What is it?'

‘You know that my Ardeshir finished secondary school last year. He has to go for his military service and this war doesn't seem to be ending. Under no circumstances will I let them send my son to the front. Besides, as you know, he has always been somewhat cowardly. He is so terrified that if a bullet doesn't kill him, his fear will. We have decided to send him out of the country.'

‘Send him out? How? Everyone who has to serve in the military is banned from leaving the country.'

‘That's the problem,' Mansoureh said. ‘He has to cross the border illegally. We have found someone who charges a quarter of a million tumans and takes kids across the border. I was thinking of sending the two of them together. They can look after each other. What do you think?'

‘Well, it sounds like a good idea,' I said. ‘But I have to come up with the money.'

‘Don't worry about that,' she said. ‘If you are short of some, we will help. But it is very important that they go together. Siamak can take care of himself, but Ardeshir will need help. If he knows he will not be alone, he will agree to go more easily. And we will be less worried.'

‘But where would they go?' I asked.

‘There are many places they can go to. Every country accepts refugees. They will receive a stipend for a while and they can continue their education,' she said. ‘But tell me, what are you really concerned about? The money?'

‘No. If it is to my child's benefit, I will sell everything I have and I will borrow. But I have to be sure it is to his advantage. Give me a week to think about it and to discuss it with him.'

I spent two days deliberating about what I should do. Was it wise to leave a boy Siamak's age in the care of a smuggler? How dangerous was it to cross the border illegally? He would have to live all alone somewhere on the other side of the world. If he ever needed help, whom could he turn to? I had to seek advice. Privately, I explained the situation to Sadegh Agha.

‘Honestly, I don't know,' he said. ‘Everything has its own risks and this is going to be dangerous. I have no notion of life in the West, but I know of many people who have recently sought asylum in different countries; a few of them were actually returned.'

The next day, Mr Zargar was delivering some work assignments to me. He had gone to university in the West and could offer me reliable advice.

‘Of course, I have no experience of crossing the border illegally and I don't know how dangerous it is,' he said. ‘But more and more people are taking the risk. If Siamak is accepted as a refugee, which as a former political prisoner he certainly will be, he won't have any financial difficulties and, if he has the will, he can get the best education. The only problem is loneliness and life in exile. Many youths his age become depressed and develop serious emotional problems and not only do they fail to study, but they can't lead a normal life. I don't want to frighten you, but the rate of suicide is high among them. Send him only if you know a truly caring person over there who can to a certain extent fill your place and keep an eye on him.'

The only person I knew and trusted overseas was Parvaneh. I went to Mansoureh's house and called her from there. I was afraid our telephone at home was tapped. After I explained the situation, Parvaneh said, ‘Definitely do it. You cannot imagine how worried I have been for him. Send him by any means you can and I promise you I will take care of him as if he were my own son.'

Her sincerity and eagerness lessened my worries and I decided it was time to talk to Siamak. I had no idea how he would react.

Shirin was sleeping. I quietly opened the door to the boys' bedroom and walked in. Siamak was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Massoud was sitting at his desk, studying. I sat down on Massoud's bed and said, ‘I want to talk to you two.'

Siamak jolted up and Massoud swung towards me and said, ‘What has happened?'

‘Nothing! I have been thinking about Siamak's future and we need to make a decision.'

‘What decision?' Siamak said sarcastically. ‘Do we have the right to make decisions? All we can do is say yes to whatever they tell us.'

‘No, my dear, it's not always like that. All this week, I have been thinking about sending you to Europe.'

‘Huh! You are dreaming!' he said. ‘Where would we get the money from? Do you know how much it will cost? At least two hundred thousand tumans for the smuggler and just as much to live on until the request for asylum is processed.'

‘Bravo! And how accurate!' I said. ‘How do you know all this?'

‘Oh, I've looked into it extensively. Do you have any idea how many of my friends have already left the country?'

‘No! Why didn't you tell me?'

‘Tell you what? I knew you couldn't afford it and it would just make you sad.'

‘The money isn't important,' I said. ‘If it is for your good, I will find it. Just tell me if you want to go or not.'

‘Of course I want to go!'

‘And what do you want to do over there?'

‘I want to study. Here, they will not let me go to university. I have no future in this country.'

‘Don't you think you will miss us?' I asked.

‘I will, a lot, but how long can I sit here and watch you type and sew?'

‘You will have to leave the country illegally,' I said. ‘It is very dangerous. Are you willing to accept the risk?'

‘The risk is no greater than military service and being sent to the front, is it?'

He was right. In another year, Siamak would be drafted and the war didn't seem to be ending.

‘But there are a few conditions and you have to promise you will do them and you cannot ever break your promise.'

‘All right. But what are the conditions?' he asked.

‘First, you have to promise me that you will not go anywhere near the Iranian political groups and organisations. You cannot get involved with them. Second, you will study as far as the highest degree possible and you will become a well-educated and respectable man. Third, you will not forget us and, whenever you can, you will help your brother and sister.'

‘You don't need to ask me to make these promises,' Siamak said. ‘They are exactly what I intend to do.'

‘Everyone says that, but then they forget,' I said.

‘How could I possibly forget you three? You are my entire life. I hope that one day I can make up for all your love and hard work. You can be sure I will study well and I will stay away from politics. To be honest, I am sick of every single political group and faction.'

We spent hours talking about how Siamak would leave the country and how we could come up with the money. He was alive again; excited and hopeful and at the same time worried and nervous. I sold two of our carpets and the few pieces of gold jewellery I had left. I even sold my wedding ring and Shirin's small gold bangle, and I borrowed some money from Mrs Parvin. But I still didn't have enough. Mr Zargar, who always kept an eye on me and understood my problems even before I spoke of them, showed up one day with fifty thousand tumans and said it was my back pay.

‘But I didn't have this much money due to me!' I said.

‘I added a little to it.'

‘How much? I need to know how much I owe you.'

‘It's not much,' he said. ‘And I will keep account of it and take it out of your future pay.'

In exactly one week, I gave Mansoureh two hundred and fifty thousand tumans and confidently announced that we were ready. She looked at me with surprise and said, ‘Where did you get all this money? I had put aside a hundred thousand tumans for you.'

‘Many thanks, but I managed it myself.'

‘What about the money they will need for the few months they will be in Pakistan? Can you cover that, too?'

‘No, but I will come up with it.'

‘Don't,' she said. ‘This money is here and it's ready.'

‘All right,' I said. ‘But I will pay you back over time.'

‘You don't need to,' Mansoureh said. ‘This is your money, it is your children's share. If Hamid had died a week later, half this house and everything else would have been yours.'

‘If Hamid hadn't died,' I said, ‘your father would still be alive.'

Contacting the smuggler, a young, skinny, dark-skinned man dressed in the traditional clothes of his province, was another story in itself. His secret name was Mrs Mahin and he would talk on the telephone only if the caller asked for her. He said the boys should be ready to leave for Zahedan, a city in south-eastern Iran, at a moment's notice. He promised that with the help of a few friends he would safely take them across the border into Pakistan and deliver them to the United Nations' offices in Islamabad. He said he would dress them in sheepskin and they would move across the border among a herd of sheep.

I was terrified, but I tried to hide it from Siamak. He was a fearless adventurer and found all this more exciting than frightening.

 

The night we received the order from the smuggler, the boys left for Zahedan with Bahman, Mansoureh's husband. Saying goodbye to Siamak, I felt as though one of my limbs was being severed from my body. I didn't know if I was doing the right thing or not. I vacillated between sadness over our separation and horror over the danger he faced. That night, I did not leave my prayer rug. I prayed and cried and put my son in God's hands.