Rooftops of Tehran by Mahbod Seraji

Rooftops of Tehran by Mahbod Seraji

Author:Mahbod Seraji [Seraji, Mahbod]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780451226815
Publisher: NAL Trade
Published: 2009-05-05T07:00:00+00:00


19

Doctor’s Candle

More than four weeks have passed since Doctor’s execution, although it feels a lot longer than that. The trees have shed their leaves, the rosebush that I planted outside our house is bare, the days have become shorter, and the nights seem to fall into a deeper silence.

I haven’t seen Zari since the day we came back from the cemetery, and I still can’t think of Doctor without spiraling into an anxiety attack. I keep telling myself that one of these days, I’ll go to his grave alone and spend the whole day talking to him about what happened that night. I’ll tell him that I wish I’d ducked before the man with the radio saw me, that I would do anything to go back in time and correct my mistake. I’ll say I’m sorry for falling in love with Zari, for spending most of my summer days at her house while he was away, and for betraying his trust in me. I’ll apologize for dreaming about her now, for not being able to go through one minute of the day without thinking about her, for being mesmerized and spellbound by her.

I’m sitting against the wall that edges the roof and watching the sky. It’s cool outside but I don’t mind it at all. I’ve read about our solar system in science class, but the only way I can recognize any of the stars is through the names Ahmed and I have assigned to them, the names of the people who have That. When I’m in the U.S., I’ll communicate with my friends by talking to their stars every night. The fact that I’ll be seeing their stars even on the other side of the world somewhat lessens my anxiety of being away from them.

I’ve been reading Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment instead of doing my geometry homework. I still hate my major, and I still hate my teachers, but I don’t hate Iraj anymore, even though he still looks at Ahmed’s sister. Our new composition teacher, Mr. Rostami, has asked us to write a five-page paper on a subject of our choice. Ahmed suggests that I turn in his masterpiece on “Technology as the Mother of all Sciences.” I politely decline. Instead, I write a paper about crime and punishment in Iran. I write that crime is an unlawful act of violence that can be committed by anyone, and that punishment is the consequence designed for criminals who don’t have the economic means to cover it up. Throughout history, men of wealth and power have been exempt from facing the consequences of their evil deeds. Crime, therefore, can be defined as an offense committed by an individual of inferior status in society. Punishment is a consequence forced on the perpetrator of the crime only if he occupies one of the lower steps of the social ladder.

Mr. Rostami is standing in the back of the class watching me quietly over the frames of the large square glasses resting on the tip of his nose.



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