Agha Bozorg and Losing Yourself

“What are you looking for, Agha Bozorg?” He was searching all around his room. He turned toward me. “It was right here...” “What was? Your glasses?” “No.” “Your pills?” “No, dear boy.” “Then what is it? Maybe I can help you find it.” He smiled. “No one but me can find it.” I watched him curiously. “I’m looking for myself, dear boy. For myself. I lost him years ago. I’ve spent so many years treading carefully that I’ve forgotten how I used to walk. People have called me ‘Haj Agha’ for so long that I’ve forgotten Ferdowsi’s poems. I’ve become so caught up in the performance that I’ve lost my own part.” “Agha Bozorg...” “Son, whatever you do, be yourself.” Damn the Islamic Republic for forcing this mask on us, making us act, but never as ourselves. I hope for a day when we can play the leading role in our own lives. Long live Iran. Long live the Shah.