Rooftops of Tehran

by Mahbod Seraji

My father pulled Ahmed and me aside one day and asked me, in front of family friends and relatives, what I thought life was about. I promptly said that life was a random series of beautifully composed vignettes, loosely tied together by a string of characters and time.

We Persians as a people are too deeply immersed in misery to resist despair when it knocks on our door.

I picture my father appearing unexpectedly and pinning me down with one of his dirty looks, the ones that hurt more than a thousand slaps in the face. I shake my head no.

Reviewing Zari’s qualities, however, quickly led to imagining our first kiss on the night of our marriage, which felt as if someone had poured boiling water through my veins: her bright eyes closing as our faces came together, breathing in her delicious scent as our lips met in a silent flood of softness.

‘It is not the consciousness of men that determines their social being; it’s their social being that determines their consciousness.’

There’s a soothing tranquility in her gaze, in the smiling eyes of a woman I would love to love.

“You don’t,” I say, as though I’m some kind of an expert on love. “In an arranged marriage, you rely on the wisdom of the elders; in cases like theirs, on the intuition of your own heart.”

“It’s like what you see in Hollywood movies,” Zari says. “Letting someone new into your life, sharing your secrets with him, learning new things about him, all of it sounds so romantic to me. It also sounds risky and dangerous.

“What do you like about her, besides her looks of course?” she continues, her tone a bit more serious. “Everything,” I admit. “She reminds me of snow, pure and clean; of rivers, calm and flowing; of rain, revitalizing and refreshing; of a mountain, strong and majestic; and of flowers, delicate and soft.”

Our therapist is time. We trust that time heals everything, and that there is no need to dwell on pain.

“Everyone stops at stop signs, even when there is no car coming from the opposite direction. That’s discipline for you. Discipline means respecting the rules regardless of the circumstances. We don’t even stop at red lights in this country.

Is it discipline or indoctrination?

He then called Ahmed every animal name except a cow before throwing him out of the class. Last year, our composition teacher was caught in the bathroom with his pants down and a fifteen-year-old kid bent over in front of him.

Talk about being turned off of learning

Doctor used to say that these shows are designed to keep people preoccupied with “the irrelevant.” Their ability to entertain keeps their viewers from questioning anything, slowly but surely eroding their intelligence. He complained that these shows have caused the Americans to slip into a political coma. “They are tragically uninformed of their government’s unfair and oppressive behavior in other countries,” he always disapproved bitterly.

She’s captured my heart like a ruthless invader, and I’m a slave to thoughts and feelings that don’t originate from my conscious self.

This is a massive world, I think, and in each centimeter of it, a different drama unfolds every second of every day. But we live on as if the next moment in our lives will be no different than the last. How foolish we all are.

Is abandoning public torture in favor of torture behind prison walls a great leap toward modernization and democracy?

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.

“Because I’d rather be with you in hell than without you in heaven.” I look down at my own knees.

She reminds me that there must be death so that there can be life, that there must be lies so that there can be truth, that there must be darkness so that there can be light.

“Life isn’t the same when a piece of your heart is ripped away from you,” she says. “It’s a blessing and a curse to be a mother, that’s for sure!”

“Life’s short, way too short. Enjoy every breath you take because no one knows what comes next. Through the eyes of creation, the time each of us spends on this planet is no longer than a blink! We have to live our lives trusting in God’s judgment.

What we had was a forbidden love—sweet, secretive, and intoxicating. I smile as tears roll down my face. I don’t feel ashamed of loving Zari anymore because there’s nothing wrong with loving someone who is worthy of being loved.

“It’s all about honor, friendship, love, giving it all you have, living an alert life and not pretending ignorance because it’s an easier way out—all those things packaged together, isn’t it?

I decide the best way for me to deal with the uncertainty is not to think about it, to suppress my guilt about seeking a better future in the country that has ruined my past.

Isn’t it true that genuine love is about respect for one’s character and disposition?