A Persian Requiem by Simin Daneshvar

Author:Simin Daneshvar [Simin Daneshvar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781905559480
Publisher: Halban
Published: 2012-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

14

Kolu’s illness and the confusion that went with it, caused Zari to forget all about Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s lunch invitation. But Ezzat-ud-Dowleh herself had not forgotten. That distinguished lady had probably gone to great lengths to make preparations, because she rang bright and early on Wednesday morning to double check, reminding them of the invitation. Now it was Ameh’s turn to grumble.

“Why don’t you all go, sister. I, for one, am not going. I went to the baths only the day before yesterday. And sister, you didn’t say a word to stop me. Besides, I’m not in the mood for Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s fuss and ceremony. She spreads a feast from one end of the room to the other, but her crossed eyes follow your every mouthful. She watches the sugar-bowl to count the sugar-lumps you take! And probably sees double, too.”

Zari had never felt so tired in all her life as she had over the past few days. “Ameh Khanom, the lunch is in your honour,” she said. “In any case, Ezzat-ud-Dowleh is your friend.” She nearly added, “She is your sister-by-oath and your crony,” but decided against it. Instead, she said, “You know, lately you’ve been cutting yourself off from us, and I was thinking perhaps it’s because you’re preparing to leave us altogether.”

“You’re quite right. When I leave here on my pilgrimage, I don’t want to feel your absence all the time. Besides, I don’t want these poor children to keep asking for me as soon as I go away.”

But finally Ameh Khanom consented. They took a droshke through the avenues, but walked the narrow back-streets. Khadijeh carried one twin while Zari gave a hand with the other, who was walking, helping her over the rock-strewn alleys. They passed the narrow Qahr-o-Ashti street, and on the right-hand side, just before Sardazak, they stopped in front of the enormous gates of Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s house. Khadijeh was out of breath. Ameh Khanom read the Quranic inscription on the mosaic over the gate: “Lo! We have brought unto ye a great and glorious victory.” She glanced at the house opposite Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s, the house in which she had grown up. “What a ruin it’s become!” she commented.

The gates of Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s house were open. As they passed through the large, shady octagonal porch, the doorman was sitting idly on his wooden bench. He jumped to attention, as if roused from a dream. Taking off his felt hat, he greeted them and invited them in. At the entrance to the outer courtyard, an old black maidservant held out a crystal bowl. She removed the lid of the bowl and invited them to help themselves. The two women each took a jasmine-flavoured almond sweet. The black maid bent down to serve the twins, and then came round to Khadijeh. At the entrance of the inner courtyard, which was an orangery, Ezzat-ud-Dowleh’s personal maid Ferdows, wearing a blue silk chador, offered them a platter of fragrant melon. She served them as the black maid had done. Zari placed the cool

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