"One Signature Left" (Part 7)

 

? The truck driver was a sergeant from East Azerbaijan, usually singing some Turkish songs in a low voice while driving.

“If you remain silent for the rest of the way, you have to listen to my songs!” he told me.

“I am actually listening to you while taking the last looks at the city. You sing well.” I said.

“Can you understand what I sing? I’m signing “Heydar Baba”, the great work of our poet Shahryar. Do you know him?”

“Of course, I know him but I’ve not heard this one.”

“Oh! So you have lost a half of your life!” he laughed when changing the gear. “Heydar Baba is the name of a mountain near Tabriz, where Shahriar spent his childhood there. In this great long poem, old Shahryar talks to the mountain about the memories of his childhood and the people whom he knew at that time and then shares his grievances with it in a very touching way.”

“That must be great.”

“It's great and it relates to everyone even those who don’t know the Turkish language.”

“But I see you are also counting numbers occasionally when you are singing!” I said.

“Hmm! I’m counting the long road turns! We’re already at 11 and there are 135 turns left!”

“Oh! I don’t think that way is helpful. I prefer not to realize how many turns we’ve left behind and how many we have ahead. I also don’t like to read the road signs that tell us every ten kilometers how many kilometers we have to take.”

“That’s OK with you as a passenger but doesn’t work for me as a driver.” he said. “I have to be very careful and alert in every moment of driving. The road is so slippery and as you can see, the valleys are deep. In that way, I keep my mind sharp and on alert. On the other hand, some particular numbers have a particular meaning to me. Number 35 indicates it’s lunch time and I have to stop at a Kurdish restaurant that serves very delicious dishes but number 62 reminds me of some of my colleagues who lost their lives there! Just two years ago, when the UN resolution 598 was not accepted by us yet, two of my colleagues who were truck drivers along with 4 soldiers were captured on the way in a snowy day by an opposition military group and they were all beheaded beside the road and the whole cargoes were confiscated. They had guns but can you imagine how they beheaded my friends!?”

“By bayonets!?”

“No! The two trucks were also carrying some foodstuff. The bandits emptied them and opened some big oil cans and used their metal sharp lids as cutters! A local witness described the scene to us later. He said one of the soldiers stood on his feet and took one or two steps with his hands tied, while his head was aside from his body!”

I took a deep breath, leaned back my head and looked outside. The sky was cloudy. Far away in the sky, I could see some soundless thunders. The earth needed a great rain. There were so many dirty things that should be washed away. I could hear the sergeant singing again, the same poems of Shahryar.

"???? ???? ???? ????? ?????? / ?????? ??? ??? ??? ????? ??????"*

I did not like to imagine drops of blood on the snowy farmlands. Instead, I kept looking at the farmlands in both sides, the mountains and hills and the people and the way they were changed before my eyes, city to city on our way from the Kurdish city of Marivan to the Turkish city of Maragheh in East Azerbaijan.

****

It was about 5 p.m and long after leaving behind the 135th turn, we were now in Maragheh. The driver stopped near the railway station. I never liked to leave the truck and enter directly the railway station just in a minute. I needed to walk for a while, to make up my mind, to buy some souvenirs for my siblings but I was tired and a little frustrated! So I entered the station.

The high number of soldiers wearing gray uniforms had given a military appearance to the public station. The box offices were crowded and I was lucky that I could get a ticket for the 6 p.m Tabriz-Tehran train.

“No seat! Only on foot!” the ticket man was repeating without looking at the people when selling the tickets.

“How can I stand on my feet for about 12 hours!?” I thought.

I found a bench occupied by three soldiers in the saloon, but I could seat in one end with a little pressure if they made no objection. I applied the required pressure and received no reaction because two of them were asleep.

“Going to Tehran!?” It was a young man with shaved head and wearing thick glasses, sitting on the ground next to me and selling chewing gums. I nodded.

“Buy some chewing gum for your mother!”

“I take three boxes because I myself need one for the whole night.”

He laughed joyfully and I could count the few teeth he had!

He put the money in his chest pocket and closed it back with a pin.

“I’m so happy today because it’s Tuesday.” he said with the same smile. “I love Tuesdays. You know why?”

“No!” I said while beginning to chew a gum which was so hard to be broken!

“I love Tuesdays in weeks because they are right in the middle, nor near the beginning of the week nor near the weekends! What day you like most?”

“I haven’t ever thought about this. I can’t say I love which one most, but I think I hate Friday evenings!”

A child asked him the price and went back to his father to take the money.

I opened my bag and checked my books and notebooks if I had collected all of them quickly. Then I took my notebook and began to read my notes. I read some quotes from some famous authors or the like. A quote of Romain Gary caught my eyes.

“When a war is won, it’s the losers, not the winners, who are liberated.”

I tried to interpret it in the case of Iran and Iraq war and tried to think who was the winner in what aspects and who was the loser in what aspects but the idea did not stimulate my mind. I was totally tired. I needed somewhere quiet, out the crowd of people. But I had to use every minute of having a seat because I had to spend a long and tiring night.

It was announced over the loudspeaker that the train would not arrive on time! The gray color in the sky was spread out everywhere. Trains whistling stirred something vague inside me time to time. I felt it had a message scattered in its white smoke but I was unable to get it on. The huge snake-like trains were supposed to take back piles of soldiers to their homes what they had done in a row for about eight years during the war. I had already heard that the train station of Maragheh had commenced operation shortly after World War II! A train from Tehran was approaching. Its loud whistle made everyone in the station move. I just looked at a child who left his family and ran joyfully toward the platform. The train slowed down and stopped. It looked like a horse riding a long way, now neighing, waiting for someone touching gently its mane and tapping its croup and preparing for continuing the long ride. The doors were open and some passengers got off and almost the same number got in. Next month, my cousin who was living in Tabriz was to marry in Tabriz and we were invited but I doubted if I could attend. The train whistled again. The doors were closed and it moved on. The train whistled again, the wheels began to turn round and the white thick smoke began to mingle with colorless air.

I already had time to get some rest. The thick white smokes were slowly thinning before my eyes. I closed my eyes. I thought of the whole mountainous way I had taken. I had not ever had such a long travel with a truck. I thought of the horrible and heartbreaking scene at the 62nd turn and the soldier who had stood on his feet while he was beheaded!

“Why can’t a man stand up, move, speak, walk, run and even live for years without his head!?” I thought. I felt my feet were numb and my head heavy. I had actually no control over my feet anywhere and had no idea of where my bag was from the last time I had checked it below the bench. My neck was extended down and my head was over my shoulders and they, not me, had kept it there…!

I heard a whistle from outpart. I opened my eyes. I felt a little cold. The platform was in the same condition as of I had closed my eyes. The white smoke was already thinning but it looked thick and fresh! The soldiers next to me were gone. The young man selling chewing gum was gone! The Station looked empty of the crowd of people! I heard another long whistle. I quickly stood up and ran to the platform. A train was just leaving the station but contrary to the direction of the previous train!

“Was it Tabriz-Tehran train!?” I asked a man who had a red flag in his hand and was exchanging the last signals. 

“Yes! Where were you!?” he asked me while bringing down the flag and coming back to the station. I could see the last wagon and I could get it if I could run after it! Now the train looked like a horse riding and shaking its tail to me! I put down my bag and stood motionless. My mind was frozen and not able to make any decision.

“Ghareh Chaman! Ghareh Chaman!”

A man was calling while turning a bunch of car keys around his finger.  

“Did you miss the train? I can take you to the next station.”

“Is that your job!?” I asked.

“Yeah, and my car is outside the station. We need to wait for at least another passenger to move to Ghareh Chaman.” 

“How much do you get for it?”

“Only Rls.1,000!”

“But it’s higher than the price of the train ticket to Tehran!”

“But think of one night you have to stay here, rent a room, have dinner tonight and lunch tomorrow and buy another ticket for tomorrow afternoon if you are lucky to get it!”

“What if we wait for another passenger for a long time and you can’t catch up with the train in the next station!?”

“Then I will take you to the second station and that would cost you a total sum of Rls.1,500! You may also bear the charge of another passenger and we can move right now if you pay me just Rls.2,000!”

He was clever and had a plan for each station but once again, I came to this conclusion that I was slow at thinking! But for the moment, I had to say something and get rid of the rascal driver!

“What if we drive after the train, station to station and get it only in Tehran? How much should I pay you in that case!?” I asked him.

“I can take you directly to Tehran if you order.”

“No, I’d like to see the train in parallel on the road. I was supposed to stand on my foot the whole way. Now it’s so pleasant to see the standing passengers and sit comfortably in your car!”

“I’m at your service.” he said while mentioning the huge amount of fair. I could see he had applied some fine for missing the train in his pricing!

“I think I prefer to stay one night in this city. Is there any hotel or inn around here?”

“You are free to waste the first day of your short leave in a strange city! There are some hotels and inns there and I can take you to one of them whose owner is my friend.” he said and began to turn his keys around his finger.

“No, thanks! I prefer to walk.”

I took my bag and move with heavy and slow steps.

I could hear the driver calling the name of the next station behind me. A family approached him in a hurry. The man of the family began to talk to him. So quickly they agreed on a price and the driver took one of their suitcases and made his way toward his car.

“There is a suitable inn in the beginning of the city main road. You don’t have to take a taxi”

The drive told me.

****

I entered the city in darkness. Comparing to Marivan, it could be named a luxurious city. I did not like to begin to see the old city of Maragheh in darkness. About 800 years ago, when Iran was invaded by Moguls Hulago Khan, the Mogul ruler appointed Maragheh as the capital city and then appointed Khajeh Nasireddin Toosi, Iranian great philosopher, scientist and astrologist as his vice-minister. It was the vice-minister who cleverly took the opportunity and made an observatory and a huge library thereupon persuading the Mogul ruler of the power of predicting future events that the observatory could offer them!

“I’ll take a look at the city tomorrow.” I thought once I ran into a nice old restaurant where I could have a delicious Persian kebab with rice. There I came across another personal drawback of mine: In addition to being slow at thinking, it was my habit to overeat in critical moments when I needed to make an important decision quickly! Chelo Kebab was something most welcomed every time and under any circumstances, specially when a layer of white butter was cut from a big ball-like butter and laid down on the rice!  

It was about 10 p.m that I was behind a small desk by a window in my room in an inn and beginning to write a letter to Khosrow! I just needed to talk to someone and Khosrow came to my mind. I wrote a few words, folded the paper and put it in an envelope. I was to post it tomorrow to his address in Marivan but I thought that all letters were first taken to Tehran and then distributed from there to other cities. So, I decided to take it with to Tehran.

The street was almost empty. Long and narrow lights of a few cars crossing the street in that winter night showed that it was rainy. I liked to watch people hurrying under the rain. The shops were closing down one by one and the rain was pouring faster. Some men in sidewalks were walking fast and a few men were waiting for a taxi. I could see and hear the drops of rain tapping in tune on the edge of the window. I remembered the old question in which way one would get less wet in rain: walking or running. But in my case, hearing the drops of rain and writing were what could always make my eyes wet!

I took the train ticket and began to underline the departure date: 31 Jan. 1991 and continued to underline the origin and the destination cities: Maragheh-Tehran. I was travelling from an old city that was a capital city some centuries ago to the present capital that was appointed as the capital city, in 1776 by Agha Mohammad Khan Ghajar, the founder of Ghajar dynasty who transferred the capital city from the great city of Shiraz to new city of Tehran with its great climate and strategic situation. The point was that Tabriz was the first candidate to become the capital city but it was omitted in the mind of the king due to being close to Ottoman borders! Overleaf, I began to draw a train and then a man who was actually the driver! The rainfall was soaring. I thought of Shiraz, that I had not ever visited and imagined the great poets Hafiz and Saadi living there at that time. Then I thought of Maragheh at the time of Moguls and Iranian genius scientist Khajeh Nasireddin Toosi.

As far as I had read about the great scientist, he had written about 150 books in Arabic and Persian languages and the strange point about him was that he had complained once that things were worsening every day in his life and he was writing and developing his ideas while suffering and with wet eyes most of the times! Comparing to him, Hafiz was cleverer to take poetry and joyfully escape to his own magical world!

The rain and wind were roaring outside the window. A thunder illuminated a part of the empty street. I sneezed, then pulled back the curtain fearing from more severe thunders.

I threw my heavy body on the bed and closed my eyes. I felt the bed was slightly moving like a boat!

“What am I doing here!?” I repeated the same question I had asked in the past three or four months.

“This time, it’s better to be in bed than to be on that train and traveling in darkness! So far so good!” I thought. I could feel the sound of train’s wheels moving from far away, approaching me and crossing right below my bed and then fading out! The thunders outside the window, made the train in my imagination speed up! I thought of my parents and my grandfather who was living with us and I could have been with him alone in his room by tomorrow morning if I had not missed the train. I felt a great pity about missing my rarely speaking and mostly in silence but so kind grandfather for such a long time.

A huge thunder illuminated the red curtain and suddenly every kind of light went out everywhere. It took a while for my eyes to get used to the deep darkness. I could hear someone speaking loudly outside on the stairs probably for electricity. I pulled the blanket over my shoulders and then on my head. I could feel drops of sweats on my forehead. I closed my eyes and it neither added anything to the darkness nor decreased anything! I was so tired and wished I was able to go to sleep like bears for six months or hibernate like them, then get up and walk around and get prepared for another six months, then one day find my military service completion card in my pocket! How good it was if mankind was able to go into hibernation on his own wish. I would have surely chosen winters for hibernation period if I had been given a right to choose! How good it was to live into hibernation, just like that beheaded soldier who took one or two steps! And how fantastic it was if we could choose the ones we would go into hibernation together!

Whom I would choose if I were allowed to!? Was Hafiz living into hibernation!? Was Saadi living in reality!? Was Khajeh Nasireddin living in reality as vice-minister and into hibernation at his observatory!? Was my military service period the hibernation period of my life and the rest of my life was reality or my whole life, except the military service period was the great hibernation!? I thought over and over but I could not fall asleep!

A light headache was added to my tiredness. At home, my mother used to prepare a kind of vegetable soup that immediately made me feel well once she felt I was ill.

Sleep was something like a train and I was like a passenger waiting for it to come and take me with. I was cautious not to miss it like the way I missed the train in that afternoon! But I could not hear or feel any sound or sign of the sleep. I looked at the closet before the bed and my clothes inside it.

“How long am I going to wear this kind of uniform?” I thought. “Am I going to wear any other uniform during the rest of my life!? No, I would never ever put on any other uniform anymore!?”

A huge thunder interrupted my mind. I could not guess what time it was exactly and how long the thunders would go on. I took the pillow and put it on my face! Then thought about where I was last night and where I would be tomorrow. Yesterday, I was in Marivan, that night in Maragheh and tomorrow in Tehran. How could I be sure of tomorrow? I was there in a cheap inn in Maragheh just over an accident. How many of such accidents would be on my way to affect my life for a day or for a month or for a year or for ten years or for more years? My body was shivering but now I had no idea of where I was. I could hear someone whispering by my head. I did not dare to find out what it was but a thunder shed light on a part of someone who was sitting right above the closet before my bed! To my surprise that was the sergeant!

“Did you miss the train!” he asked me. “I told you to be careful and hurry up!”

“But you didn’t tell me!” I said while a little ashamed of the odd and impolite position we were in!

“Didn’t you tell him to hurry up!?” he asked while looking at me but addressing someone else who was sitting next to him above the closet that I could only see his legs hanging down!

“I told him but he was a little stingy to spend some money!” the faceless man said while moving something in his hand! 

Another thunder illuminated the face of the man. He was the driver turning his car keys around his finger!

“It was the first train you missed today but it won’t be the last!” the sergeant said. “Remember, there are lots of so valuable things you will lose in your life and you should be prepared for them!”

Then they began to talk to each other and I tried to tell them something but they could not hear me or even I was not their addressee at all and they were there or I was there merely by a chance! 

I took the pillow from my face and opened my eyes. Sunlight had filled a part of the room through the edge of the red curtain. I stood up and went toward the curtain and pulled it back. The street was filled with cars and people. I opened the closet, took my clothes out and put them on. I extended my hand to the closet, then touched the roof where the sergeant and the driver were sitting last night, then gently pressed my forehead.

“What a long, tiring and strange night!” I thought. “I’ll have another long day today here in Maragheh!”

I rushed out to stay among people and feel warm and safe among them and enjoy the sun after all those rains, thunders and the nightmare-like hours.

*“Heydar Baba, it’s a fake world, remained from Noah and Solomon…!”

 - The title photo belongs to Iranian great filmmaker late Abbas Kiarustami.

(End of Part 7)

13 May 2017

Tehran

Mansour Rad