A Conversation with Agha Bozorg in Dark Days

A few years ago, I fell into a severe depression. Nothing seemed beautiful to me. The world had taken on a particular darkness and meaninglessness. One day I was sitting alone by Agha Bozorg’s grave when an old woman came up to me. “You are so beautiful,” she said. “Me? Are you talking to me?” “Yes. Hold your head up and look at yourself.” “I don’t see anything.” “Because you’ve closed your eyes. Those beautiful eyes of yours should see more of the beauty in the world.” I felt strange that day. I went back to my parents’ house, where they had guests. A large group was sitting together, talking. Suddenly I remembered the old woman, and for a few brief moments I couldn’t hear anything. Everything seemed to grow still. Like in a film, the whole room appeared to move in slow motion for an instant. I looked around. My mother and aunt were laughing and talking. My father was playing backgammon with my uncle, both of them laughing loudly and teasing each other. Khanom Bozorg was braiding my cousin’s hair. All at once, I came back to myself. The sounds returned, and the slow motion ended. I saw it. I could see again. My eyes could see joy and beauty again. I could see the beauty around me. That was the first day of my return to life, the day I learned to see beauty again. Dear Ali, you were right. I have known both the pain of being unable to see and the pleasure of seeing the world’s beauty. Time is limited, so let us be grateful for beauty. Let us be grateful to the Pahlavi kings, who brought the ability to see beauty to Iranians left broken and depressed. My king, Reza Shah II, is the beauty I see today in myself and my land. Long live Iran. Long live the Shah.