
Khorramshari Cinderella
I went up to her and said, "I know you." What
a small world.
July 12, 2005
iranian.com
I had been looking forward to going to this wedding literally a lifetime. The
beautiful little girls whose mother is like my own sister (literally) not only
because she is from Khorramshahr but also because she is a true sister in every
sense of the way, has all grown up and her big day was scheduled for May 28th.
The perfectionist mom had been working on all the details for
the past year and a half.
I was a bit anxious because many of the guests had met me 19
years ago at another wedding my friend had coordinated (her brother’s).
I wondered about the reaction of people and whether they would
remember me.
I had a picture from the wedding in 1986 with the beautiful 6-year-old
as one of the flower girls. We had taken a picture together since
I had always been "Auntie Azm". I was dying to
see her reaction on her wedding day when I would give her that
picture as "something old" for the wedding.
Most people in my office said I had not changed at all. Of course
they were being nice because in that picture I am 35 pounds lighter
even though I had just given birth!
For some reason my longing for Iran had become really unbearable
these days and certain things that happened which added fuel to
the fire.
I had read nearly 925 pages of a book by the famous Khuzestani
writer, Ahmad Mahmoud, and the book, which is superb in every aspect
of literature, had made me really homesick. A few people visiting
the lunchroom when I was reading stated that they had never seen
me so quiet and peaceful!
I had also found one of my old Aghasi CDs and all the old songs
I had been looking for years and could not find where in that album.
For the past two weeks, as I was driving, I would sing along and
sometimes cry. Of course the tears were of joy because all the
good memories came back
When I arrived at the beautiful Catholic Church on Saturday,
I entered the wrong side and just went and sat inside. An American
woman sat next to me and introduced herself and indicated that
her son was the groom’s best friend.
I introduced myself as the bride’s only aunt (bride’s
mom is the only girl).
In no time the church filled up and I could hear Farsi in the
row behind me.
I turned around and one recognized me and said, "My god,
Azam Khanoum salaam, you have not changed at all." That was
reassuring.
The orchestra began to play and the first person to appear was
the bride’s grandmother.
My tears began to pour. This was the lady who owned "Shahnaz
Kindergarten" where I was a student at the age of five and
she had ended up kicking me out for continuing to misbehave.
The beautiful face and green eyes were the same but the body
now fragile and she walked with a cane on one hand and holding
on to her grandson Nima on the other. I had flashbacks of when
she was on the playground 45 years ago.
Finally the beautiful bride walked in and I started to cry hard.
More than 6 feet tall with those big brown eyes and gracious smile,
she looked like a Persian Goddess.
The long Catholic ceremony in which so many sections of the bible
were read, then all the prayers that were read (God forgive me
but when the priest asked us to pray for the Benedict and Archbishop
so an so, I said; "and for all the child molesters in the
Catholic Church, Amen".). Of course, the Catholics had to
receive communion as well. I thanked God; I was not a Catholic
because I would go straight to hell for being so bored.
Outside the church I ran into the bride’s other uncles
and recognized all of them except the one I had attended his wedding
19 years ago. At that time he had blonde hair, blue eyes and only
spoke English. Secretly I had despised him for being so cold and
non-Iranian and told myself he deserved that "South African
Bimbo".
I asked one of the uncles; where is Hossein? A very handsome
man with beautiful gray hair and gray blue eyes turned around and
looked right into my eyes. I was flabbergasted as he spoke perfect
Farsi in a very warm voice and said hello. I said; do you remember
me?
Of course, he said. I remember
you at my wedding and you have not changed. He told me thathe had
an 18-year-old daughter and
I said my son was now 19-years old. I felt really rotten for having
thought so badly about him for so long and I could not get over
the fact that he was such a handsome Iranian man from my part of
the world.
I drove to the hotel for the Persian ceremony. An Iranian artist
had done a great job in illustrating the ceremony in miniature
drawing and there was a good description in the card about Persian "aghd".
I loved the Persian display and all the non-Persian seemed to
think so.
I had asked my Abadani friend Ali who is anti -religion to conduct
the ceremony and the minute he appeared in his Judge like robe,
I tried hard to speak with an Abdani accent to match his. Ali is
very eloquent in both Farsi and English but his accent is that
of a person who has lived in Abadan all his life.
He read a few lines and when the marriage was announced I heard
the beautiful sound of "kel" which my son calls the "native
Indian" sound.
There was my Kindergarten teacher and I went to give her a kiss.
She told me something I never knew.
Hossein, the one with blue gray eyes said; you were so mischievous
that the parents of other kids threaten to remove their children
and you had to be thrown out!
His mother laughed and said; Azam’s house was near the
school and I had to call her poor mother in every other day! I
felt better as I realized after 45 years I had been given chances
but I had not paid attention. I was amazed that she remembered
our house too
I heard an older man’s voice with a distinct Khuzestani
accent. I turned around and nearly screamed; Oh my God; Doctor
K. He looked at me and said yes; do I know you?
I told him my last name and he remembered my dad’s name.
I told him that he had been the family’s physician and I
had been at his hospital where my girlfriend Shala had her appendix
removed. He told me that he lives with his memories and they keep
him company. I did not say that my last visit had been with my
mom and my baby brother Mamad Reza who had chicken pox and when
we brought him home from his office, he died in front of my eyes
and that scene has never left my mind. I felt no resentment toward
him even though my mother had always blamed him.
As I went to the table to get something to eat, I saw a lady
in her 70s walking with a cane and in a commanding voice asking
people to move.
I went up to her and said, "I know you."
In her commanding voice, which was distinctly Abadani, she said,
"Where are you from?"
I said, "Khorramshahr."
She said, "I had nothing to do in Khorramshar."
I did not give up and said, "I have an amazing memory and I know
that I have seen you probably in Abadan.
"
She became impatient and called me "bolkom" which
loosely translated means bloody stubborn, and said, "I was an assistant
principal in Abadan." I jumped up and said, "I knew it!
I came to Abadan for two friendly volleyball games and you were
at the stadium."
She looked at me closely for a few seconds.
I lowered my voice as I said, " Mr. Bahrami was my coach. I was
the one who blew a kiss at the crowd when my name was announced
and caused chaos as the boys cheered."
Her jaw dropped.
I quickly said, "The second time I was sent to
the bench because I went up the ladder to grab the umpire’s
neck to punch him for fouling us!"
She shook her head and said, "I can see that you are just as
bad."
I smiled and nodded my head in agreement. She smiled back.
I announced that I was going to change into the Khorramshari
Cinderella and when I came back most people were seated in the
ballroom.
I did not know any of the people at my table but they were very
nice and said they had been in many events I had been one of the
organizers and had always seen me on stage. They thought I was
so different up close and personal. I did not bother to ask what
that meant. Usually, it means that I am warm and more approachable
in person!
After dinner, the Iranian DJ played music and my kindergarten
teacher and the assistant principal said’ okay, dokhtar Abadani,
go and show them how to dance.
I was dancing when the one with the blue gray eyes stood right
in front of me and began to dance. I was so thrilled that my teacher
was watching me and smiling that I did not bother to look at the
one dancing in front of me.
When the song finished he caught me totally off-guard as he kissed
my face on both sides. I was so surprised so continued to dance
by myself. I had no idea why he had done that.
I went and sat next to my kindergarten teacher and we reminisced
about Khorramshar. She had been there six months ago and told me
about some of the changes. I told her that I wanted to retire there
and she asked me to be more reasonable and act maturely. She was
so sweet and kinds as she said; go for a visit first.
She then told me about some of the families I knew who are still
there but for the most part people speak Arabic and are not natives.
I felt a sense of fulfillment as I counted my blessing and thought
how fortunate for me to be able to have such a good memory and
be nostalgic in a good way.
Many people had often told me that they love to watch me because
I am like an unpredictable child who is always plotting to shock
adults. In a way, I had thought they meant it as an insult perhaps
to tell me I was still a juvenile.
However, recently, a retried executive from a world-renowned
organization who managed hundreds of people and easily identifies
people on a few minute conversations had moved here and I met her
in one of the events I had helped coordinate.
Amazingly, every housewife in town calls her and invites her
to the house. Men who are looking for influence and contacts
in Washington also call me and ask for her number.
I was surprised when she told me that she really liked me and
I am the only Iranian that does not bore her and she is proud of
me for working so hard on behalf of so many projects without getting
paid! She went so far to tell me that one could always learn something
from me because I am so spontaneous.
She had invited me to her place a few times and when my schedule
allowed I went. On the last visit she said, "Do you know that there
is a child like innocence about you? You are curious about everything,
have a sense of adventure and love to learn. You have a great sense
of romance about everything you like and you truly get excited
over little things. Your mind has remained uncorrupted and your
emotions are clearly evident in your eyes. How lucky you are for
having remained such a big idealist. I am so curious to see how
you have managed to remain that way."
When she finished I looked at her and smiled. I realized that
these words were not meant to insult me but to give my behavior
a stamp of approval.
As I finished talking to my kindergarten teacher, I realized
those words about my idealistic nature were true. I had not turned
frustrated or bitter despite being nearly a half a century old
and away from my motherland for more than 26 years. I still get
excited over little things. Tonight was proof of that. I felt I
had hit the jackpot just because I had run into people who were
part of my past.
I kissed my teacher goodbye and told her I had to go because
on Sunday I had a lunch date and then had to go to dinner party
given by an Iranian man who had asked to have my birthday party
at his place. A few of my friends would be at this party as well.
It was midnight as I opened the door of the ballroom to exit;
the blue gray eye man was standing and talking to another Iranian
man, which from the moment I had laid my eyes on him, I did not
like. No doubt he did not like me either and I did not care because
he was not important.
I went up to him and said; where is everyone? I want to say good-bye.
He peered at me with those gray blue eyes and said’ weren’t
you going to say good-bye to me"?
Before, I could say anything; he kissed my face on both side
and threw me off again. I did not dare to look into his eyes and
tried to remain calm. I was certain he had done these unexpected
acts to test me because I had noticed a few times that he was staring
at me when I walked around the ballroom to speak to people. I wondered
if he had read my writings and wanted to see how I would react
when aught by unexpected.
As I walled toward the lobby, Mohsen whom I call my older brother
came up and asked me why I was leaving. For a split second I was
a teen-ager back in Mehr Hospital where my girlfriend was staying
because her appendix had been removed. Mohsen who had just graduated
medical school was there with his white doctor’s coat.
I chuckled and said, "I hope you
have become a good doctor since you have practiced on unsuspecting
patients!"
He laughed. I kissed
his face and he kissed my hand. How lucky I was to have met this
family 25 years ago in the US.
As I walked towards the parking, the clear sky, the ocean breeze
and the palm trees transported me back to Khorramshar.
I marveled that how small is the world we live in and as my dad
always told me your world is as big or as small as your imagination
wants it to be and how you can handle it.
I was glad tonight my world and imagination were so small and
I was amazed that instead of being bored or frightened at this
discovery, I was very content.
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