Three Fishermen and Their Escape from the Island

Take a little time and read this story. Three friends had managed to get a fishing boat and went out every day to fish. It was how they made their living. Their names were Navid, Mohsen, and Omid, whose name means hope. One day they decided to go farther out than usual in the hope of catching more fish. Everything was going well until the weather suddenly turned. Rain and a storm came in, and the boat became hard to control. “Mohsen, hold that rope tight!” Navid shouted. “Omid, watch the engines. Pull them up so they don’t get smashed!” “The waves are coming from the left,” Omid called. “We’d better turn and ride them. We’ll take less of a blow.” “No,” Mohsen said. “That’ll take us farther from shore.” Wild waves broke over the boat, one after another, doing terrible damage. It was a hard night. The next morning, Mohsen slowly opened his eyes to the sound of waves washing over sand. He was lying on a beach in half-torn clothes. He didn’t know where he was. He saw the bodies of Omid and Navid a little farther away, remembered the night before, and ran to them. Thankfully, they were alive. Once they’d recovered a little, they looked around to work out where they’d washed ashore. None of them remembered reaching land. Their last memory was of drowning. A few pieces of their boat lay along the beach; clearly it had broken apart. They didn’t recognize the shore. They explored for one day, then two, and found no person or sign of life. On the fifth night, they sat on the beach, bewildered and losing hope. “We’re on an island with no trace of human life,” Mohsen said. “Maybe we’re actually dead.” “Oh, stop talking nonsense,” Navid said. “What do you think this is, Lost? Are you hallucinating?” “Calm down, Navid,” Omid said. “We’re all in a bad state.” “But listen to the rubbish he’s saying.” “We need to think of something. We can’t go on like this.” “What can we think of, my friend?” Mohsen asked. “We’re dying. We’re hungry and weak, and we don’t even have a boat to get back.” “That’s it,” Omid said. “We need to build a boat.” “Did you study industrial design?” Navid said. “Why not put a sauna and hot tub on it too? You say ‘build a boat’ like your father designed the Titanic and you’re an admiral commanding the submarine Marinus.” “We’ll die of hunger before it’s built,” Mohsen said, “or some creature will find us and finish us off.” “I’m making a giant SOS out of stones and rocks on the beach so a rescue helicopter can see it,” Navid said. “Building a boat is ridiculous. You can build one if you want.” He walked away. Mohsen began to cry and went to lie down where they had made a place to sleep. Omid refused to sit and wait for death. He set to work finding a way to cut wood and build a boat. Several days passed. Navid spent his time roaming the island and found a fruit tree, which relieved their hunger. Mohsen grew more depressed, withdrawing into himself and crying. Omid had managed to put together some tools and kept building. There wasn’t even a bird in the sky, let alone a helicopter or plane. At last Omid made something like a boat and launched it. It was sturdy, too. He urged his friends to come with him, but they refused, certain it would sink. “I know someone will come to rescue us,” Navid said. Mohsen said nothing. Omid took his courage and his boat out to sea. Perhaps you expect the story to end with Omid heroically finding help and returning, like a loyal friend, to save the other two. And he did reach a merchant ship after several days. Its crew rescued him, alerted the coast guard, and came back with him for Mohsen and Navid. But it was too late. My compatriot, my friend, a part of my own flesh: in these times, you and I can be like any of these three. We can be Mohsen, sitting and grieving over what we once had and what we’ve become, sinking into despair and depression. We can be Navid, making no effort and waiting for someone else, or foreign powers, to rescue us. Or we can be Omid, full of hope and working to carry out our national revolution and save our Iran. Together, neither sea nor mountain nor sky can stop us. Light will triumph over darkness. Long live Iran. Long live the Shah.