The Last Days of School

It was late spring, time for final exams. The weather was warming and the air conditioners were being switched on. The thought of summer vacation was perhaps the loveliest feeling of those days. My mother asked me to visit Agha Bozorg after my exam the next day. I remember it was a math exam. I was pleased with how it had gone and set off happily for his house. On the way I passed a sandwich shop. Agha Bozorg loved bandari sausage, so I bought two sandwiches and went to his door. As always, it was open. I went into the yard and saw him sitting by his window, watching the gate. He saw me and smiled. I held up the bag. “Agha Bozorg, I brought bandari sandwiches.” He smiled and motioned me inside. After kissing my forehead, he said, “Sit here in the sitting room while I bring the tablecloth, water, and things for lunch.” I jumped up. “No, Agha Bozorg, I’ll get them myself.” He lowered his head and said nothing. I went to the kitchen, gathered everything, and brought it back. He was standing with his cane by the mantel, looking at a photograph of Khanom Bozorg. I spread the tablecloth. “Come on, let’s eat.” He set the photograph back and said to Khanom Bozorg, “A tree with no one sitting in its shade will wither.” “What did you say, Agha Bozorg?” “Son, when your parents grow old and you’ve become a man, remember this: if one of them wants to pour you tea or iron your shirt, don’t stop them. I know you’ll be grown. I know you won’t want to burden them. But don’t take away one of their greatest joys. “Even when a person grows old and less able, they still take joy in doing something for their child, a piece of their own heart. People die on the day they feel they’re no use anymore. Let a cup of tea show your parent that they can still do something for you.” Years passed. My mother came to visit us and see her grandchildren. One day on my way home from work, I bought a few pieces of fabric and took them to her. “Mom, I got these in case you feel like sewing dresses for the girls.” You should have seen her eyes light up. The girls rushed over, excited. “Yes, Grandma!” One wanted a red bow; the other, in her little child’s voice, wanted a rainbow bow. Amid the commotion, my mother looked at me and silently mouthed, “Thank you.” I nodded. “Anything for you.” My compatriot, my dear friend, a part of my own flesh: people can survive many days without food, three days without water, but not a moment without hope. You and I have grown strong and become people in our own right. Yet we may be the only piece left in someone else’s basket of hope. Let’s live with strength and hope, and give life to others. Hope for victory and dignity, belief in ourselves, in taking back our homeland, Iran, and bringing our Shah home: these give life to the generations after us, for whom we may be, indeed surely are, the last bit of hope. Long live Iran. Long live the Shah. #KingRezaPahlavi