In memories of a prostitute


by divaneh

When I was a kid there was a famous prostitute in Abadan called Mahin Chamani whose name in the local dialect had changed to Meychamani . Meychamani was not famous because she was the most beautiful, most elegant or even a big mama. She was only famous because she was the most available, and hence the title “Chamani” which meant “On the Grass”, Mahin Chamani, Mahin on the grass.

I once saw her. I was in a bus and my brother said look, look, Meychamani. I leant over him to see the unordinary and saw a woman like all other women who had veiled herself in a chador and who wore a cotton dress and loose cotton pyjamas to cover her legs. Standing in the bus stop in her plastic slippers she seemed uncomfortable, perhaps embarrassed of the fingers and the peering eyes.

I never met her again, because back then I was a little boy and before I could have the pleasure of meeting her in person, the Islamic revolution had happened. In Abadan, like every other city, the newly formed revolutionary committees were struggling to identify and punish the enemies of the revolution and remnants of the old regime. The punishment in most cases was execution by firing squads. In absence of the guilty, many of those who were arrested were nothing but the prey in the blood game of the lawless land. The unforgiving god of revolution had arrived and the devotees were praising the new lord. The ever thirsty god roared for blood and the worshipers sacrificed the weak of the society at his feet, wishing and praying for better life.

One of the anti-revolutionaries that they arrested was Meychamani who by then was a mature woman. She was accused of perverting the otherwise good men and was sentenced to death for all her sins.  She was put in front of a firing squad and executed by the worshipers of the god of insanity. She lived without love and she was killed without love. Her unjust death proved once again that poverty is far more expensive than what it looks. May she rest in peace.


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more from divaneh
David ET

Thanks for sharing

by David ET on

so many sad stories, so many victims of this madness of an Islamic Republic. Shame!  



Tragedy, beautifully-written

by Monda on

Thank you divaneh jan for sharing your memory with us.

Meychamani Rest in Peace sister.


Dear divaneh

by Fatollah on

I am not a religious man, and don't believe in God either. I believe, heaven and hell are to be found around the corner, though in my hour of despairs during my lifetime, I've sent off one or two prayers asking for help! being a hypocrite that I am, -God bless her, may she rest in peace and yaadash geraami.

thanks for sharing this memory, and indeed poverty is far more expensive... 



Thanks for your comments

by divaneh on

Yolanda Jaan: Thanks for reading. Lives are indeed cheap in Iran.

MM Aziz: Thanks for being here.

Dear Nur: Thanks for sharing the interesting story. These women are indeed the victims and in many cases the most selfless in the society. I heard the story of a prostitute who was sentenced to death in Shiraz and then authorities received many letters from professionals such as doctors and teachers who wrote in defence of the woman who claimed that she has been like a mother to these poor children and help each one of them in that early path. I heard she was pardoned.

Darius Jaan: Thank you for your kind comments.

I do ignore Bomannyali comments in this and all other blogs. I have not seen his first comment but I am sure it was as sick as the rest of his comments. I know who he is and once we all complained to bar him from a developing news blog for leaving too many spams under a different name. I don't think he is worthy of a response. 

Darius Kadivar

divaneh Jaan what a Touching Testimony ...

by Darius Kadivar on

What a nice tribute.

Like someone said. He who has never sinned cast the first stone ...

May Meychamani rest in Peace ...



Two Sufis and a prayer of a prostitute in Isfahan

by Nur-i-Azal on

A Sufi master once told me this true story. He said before the (counter-)revolution he and his own teacher were once walking the streets of Isfahan at night after the breaking of fast during Ramadan chatting with each other and discussing the intricate mysteries of the poetry of Hafiz when they came upon a small woman in a black chador standing outside the entrance of a local mosque refusing to enter it with her hand pressed to its entrance wall busily talking to herself. There was no one around, so these two Sufis, thinking the woman had gone mad so that maybe they could go help her, went a little closer to hear what the woman was saying.

When they got close enough to hear, they heard her raz o niyaz (secret dialogue) with the All-High, saying, "O my God, I am a sinner. Forgive me. This is why I refuse  to enter your holy precincts because I am a sinner. But I am a sinner because I have been forced into it by circumstances not under my control. I have three small children. I possess no skill. My husband has left me, and in order to feed my three babies, I have been forced into prostitution so that they don't starve. O God almighty, please intercede and show me Your mercy, and forgive me for placing my sullied hands on the walls of Your house of purity!"

This Sufi master said his teacher was so deeply moved by this women's plight and sincere entreaty to her God that he suddenly fell to the ground and began to weep uncontrollably. He then put his own hands up in the air crying this impromptu prayer at the top of his lungs: "O Lord, forgive us for being negligent of our children! O Lord, may your intercession for this woman also count us in such intercession and wash away our sins and negligence in failure to perform our duty to Your creation! O Lord, this humble woman, although outwardly committing a great sin, is as You know inwardly a greater saint (wali) than any of us who have been walking this Path for a lifetime! May Your intercession for her also be the cause of our deliverance from error, O Lord All-High!"


yolanda, you are ....

by bomannyali on

 forgiven by the power  and mercy vested in me by the Love of God, i hereby forgive you!


You are hereby forgiven for your transgression against God

 I, I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them to lie down. I will seek the lost ... and bring back the strayed ... and bind up the crippled and strengthen the weak; the fat and the strong I will watch over." (Bomannyali Ezekiel 34.15)

bomannyali: loved by God, humiliates his adversaries by their own confessions



by yolanda on



restrict freedom of thought? That is new from an IRI sympathizer

by MM on

Bomannyali: loved by God's self-appointed representative on earth, humiliates his adversaries by their forced confessions after serving coke with batons.


respect "Nothing is scared"

by bomannyali on

Yo, I hope you're not trying to restrict freedom of thought.


Bomannyali: loved by God, humiliates his adversaries by their own confessions



by yolanda on

What a sad story.......lives are cheapened over there.....I am speechless.....


Dear Souri

by divaneh on

Thanks for reading. I am sure we all have bitter memories of those unfair and pointless executions.


One hell of good writing!!

by Souri on

Good, sad and specially true! It was very inspiring. I think I may write one of my asad memories on those unfair execution, one day.

Thank you so much for sharing this with us.