The House on Sun Street by Mojgan Ghazirad

Author:Mojgan Ghazirad
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blair

The Fortress of Mystery

Indeed it was said that she had collected a thousand books of histories relating to antique races and departed rulers. She had perused the works of the poets and knew them by heart; she had studied philosophy and the sciences, arts and accomplishments; and she was pleasant and polite, wise and witty, well read and well bred.

_______

“The Story of King Shahryar and His Brother”

The library at Farzan School was a fortress of mystery. The senior girls told us the old librarian had straight white hair braided down to her waist. They claimed the braids gave her the magical power to know the place of every book on the shelves. She would know specific words in paragraphs of the books, and if a girl uttered a phrase, even a word from a certain book, she would find the location of the book in one breath. One day, the white-haired lady vanished from the school and never came back to her beloved library. Rumor had it she never retired—as the school administration claimed—but was detained on account of being a member of Hezbeh Toodeh, the major communist party in Iran. She faded into the same dark fate other individuals who fought with the Islamic regime had, and the library became lackluster after her disappearance.

The first day I visited the library, when I was browsing a book on the “New Books” shelf, I heard a soft voice behind me. “Do you need help finding a book?”

I turned and there, for the first time, I saw Shirin. She was the new librarian appointed by the school administration. She was about Leila’s age, maybe a couple years younger, with the same height and build. Her hazel, highlighted hair was soft and straight, peeking out from beneath her cream-colored scarf. Her honey-colored eyes were streaked with gold. With her upturned eyes, she reminded me of Badr-al-Budur, the princess in the Aladdin story. She had a birthmark on her forehead, slightly lighter than her skin tone, that looked like a country map to me. I couldn’t say which country, but I imagined it to be a country from the East. Nusha later told me it was a firebrand, or a daagh, as it is said in Farsi. She said that people who genuflected and placed their foreheads on the prayer clay for long hours had it. I rejected the idea since she was young and I couldn’t imagine her praying like an old man.

“Yes,” I said, “I am looking for a poem.” I recited the verse at the beginning of One Thousand and One Nights.

“I think I know this poem,” she said. “It’s at the opening pages of Alf Layla Wa Layla. Let’s see if we still have it in our library.”

I was surprised she knew the poem, but I remained silent, letting her lead me to the book. We passed three columns of bookcases until we got to the section that was labeled PERSIAN LITERATURE. The faint, musty scent of vanilla and grass filled my lungs as we passed through that aisle.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.