Mash Razzaq's eyes were afflicted with cataracts. To support his large family, he would do anything. He would buy half-dead animals, kill them and sell their meat. He had swindled three or four creditors by filing for bankruptcy. His family brought the girl into the room and sat around her.

Mash Razzaq's wife said, "Go ahead! Give us the money!"

The girl said, "I swear to God that I have no idea what you are talking about."

Razzaq said, "Did you hand it over to your dad?"

The girl said, "May God be my witness, I didn't."

"To whom then did you give it?"

"I didn't take any money. I didn't see any money."

"Did you put it in your suitcase?"

"I swear to God that I didn't."

"Did your father tell you to steal the money?"

"I swear to God that he didn't."

Then Mahtab began to cry. Hassan her ear. Blood spurted from her nose. A pitcher of water and a bowl were brought. They washed her face. She continued to cry. They threatened that they were about to brand her. She cried for her father.

Outside, Saberi shouted and ran around the house. The dog barked on the rooftop. Saberi shouted, "What are you doing to my daughter? People, be my witness. Tomorrow I shall file a complaint." He went to the Kadkhoda's house and returned with three or four of the Kadkhoda's men. Together they freed the girl and brought her out of Razzaq's house. People said, "She must have taken the money. We all know Razzaq to be a God-fearing man!"

Confused, Mr. Saberi found nothing to say. He had been feeling down earlier in the day as if waiting for something bad to happen. He felt especially strange because, whenever something ominous had been about to happen to him, he had first thought of his ex-wife, Ma'sumeh. Remembering his past depressed him and prepared him for the forthcoming event.

He held his daughter by the hand. People followed him. He entered the room and closed the door. The kerosene lamp was still burning. A ray of light penetrated the dark and threw red, green and blue hues on to the ceiling. Mahtab was still sobbing. She said, "They wanted to brand me. They slapped me. They made my nose bleed!"

She resumed her sobbing. Saberi, trying to hold back his tears, said, "They have every right! We are strangers to this village. A rolling stone gathers no moss. If we accept their impositions, we might be able to spend a couple of years here. They just cannot tolerate anyone to be better than they. All they do is backbite, steal, swindle. In sum, my dear, their storage places are empty. Mine isn't. They are short of cash; I am not. No matter who steals whose money, they accuse me. And everyone easily testifies against me. This is only the start. Your father's trials and tribulations begin tomorrow. You will have the front seat."

The night passed slowly. It was late. Saberi lit one cigarette after another. The girl was sleeping. Her golden hair partially covered her face. Four or five strands of long hair had stuck to her damp cheeks. A trace of tears remained along her eyes.

Dawn broke, but the light did not enter the room. Saberi was smoking cigarettes. It was still cold. He got up and made a fire. The room was dense with cigarette smoke. Outside, the air was fresh. The sun had just painted the tips of the stark poplar trees. The fields were covered with velvet green wheat.

As the crows took to the sky in great numbers, Saberi prepared to face the day. He knew the people of the village quite well. When he had wanted to leave the previous village and come here, everybody had told him to think twice before making this village his home. They had told him to go anywhere but to this village. He had laughed at those villagers, but now they were having the last laugh.

Traffic gradually picked up and eventually Razzaq and his sons appeared on the scene. They demanded their money. Saberi shouted, "People, bear witness. They wanted to brand my daughter last night. I am going to the gendarmes to file a complaint."

Darvish Razzaq said, "You cannot get away with the money. Enough of that nonsense. You have taken two hundred tumans of our money. Hurry and pay up."

He then brought his lips to Saberi's ear and said, "Old man, I've raped your daughter!"

Blood rushed into Saberi's face. The veins on his neck swelled. He reached out and took Darvish by the throat and began to choke him. Razzaq and his other sons intervened and saved the young man. A crowd had gathered. Saberi said, "People, Darvish Razzaq tells me that he has raped my daughter!"

Darvish said, "He is telling another lie. When did I say that I had raped his daughter? What a shameless old man! As if we don't have our own honor to protect! Cursed old fool! Do you understand what you are doing? You are accusing your own daughter of unspeakable acts."

The Kadkhoda said, "Mr. Saberi, so far you have lived in this village with honor and dignity. If your daughter has taken these folks' money, give it back. What is two hundred tumans to you! You can pay them in goods. It does not have to be cash."

Saberi said, "I am surprised, Mr. Kadkhoda. What do you mean: 'Two hundred tumans is nothing for me'? They have first to prove that my daughter has stolen the money; then we can discuss how it could be paid back. Besides, where did they get two hundred tumans that could be stolen?"

Ali Daad said, "Why didn't Razzaq accuse any of us? There must be something to this."

Shah Sanam, Hossein Daad's wife, said, "Poor Razzaq. He wanted to send the two hundred tumans to Shiraz for his son."

Rostam said, "Mr. Saberi, we are not accusing you of the theft of the money. God wouldn't be pleased with us if we were to accuse you. We are simply saying that your daughter might have taken it and stashed it somewhere."

Saberi shouted, "Are you saying that I have taken the money? Are you all ready to turn your backs on your consciences? Why are you telling these lies? You all know the grave is a very narrow place, don't you? Don't burden your passage with lies, backbiting and crap!"

The Kadkhoda said, "How do you want to prove that you have not taken the money?"

Saberi thought for a while. How could he prove his innocence? The number of onlookers increased. The sun spread itself all over the place. Saberi stood tall among the crowd. He was a thin man, like a skeleton. He had prominent cheeks and sunken eyes. He looked intelligent. He then spoke and the people hung on his every word. He said, "They have to take an oath. They must do that with a clean body and a clean conscience!"

The Kadkhoda asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Saberi, "that in the mosque they should place their hand on the holy Qur'an and say that I have stolen two hundred tumans of their money. And I shall place my hand on the holy Qur'an and say that I have not. If they take the oath, the way I instruct, I will pay them two hundred tumans cash."

The commotion which now began among the people gradually subsided. All eyes had turned on Razzaq and his sons who fidgeted under the burden of these piercing stares. The Razzaq's had to accept Saberi's challenge. As plaintiffs, they had no alternative.

In the villages, the bathhouse serves men from midnight until eight in the morning. From eight until four in the afternoon it serves the women. It was now about half past nine. Everyone was aware of the goingson, and they all had come to the gate of the fort. Saberi appeared carrying his bathhouse utensils under his arm. The woman bathhouse attendant was sent to get the women out of the bathhouse. Not liking being pushed out, they left quite unwillingly and they cursed Saberi. The rooftops were full of people again. Mash Razzaq and Darvish Razzaq were ready. The crowd followed them. They were all silent. It was as if they were returning from a dear departed's wake. Saberi entered the bathhouse; Razzaq and his sons followed him. The crowd sat outside under the winter sun, waiting. The fragrance of the jujube trees was intoxicating. Twenty minutes later Saberi and the others emerged from the bathhouse. Saberi wore a shroud and walked like a zombie. The Kadkhoda, who carried the Qur'an , walked in front. The crowd, including the noisy children, began slowly to move like a train. Dust particles filled the air. Nobody spoke. Razzaq seemed older and with his short legs looked like half a man. His sons, on the other hand, were tall. They had wide shoulders and each was a head and shoulder taller than the father. The yard of the mosque was already full of people. The women remained outside.

Saberi walked to the Mihrab and bent his knee.

Around the mosque were plenty of poplar trees. Two apple trees had just started to bud. Saberi asked the crowd to recite the praises of the Prophet. This they did. The Qur'an had been wrapped in a white cloth and placed on the step of the pulpit.

Saberi said, "There is a condition for my taking an oath." The people became silent. The Kadkhoda asked, "What condition?"

"The Razzaqs must repeat aloud whatever I say," said Saberi.

Razzaq could not oppose this. He accepted. Saberi picked up the Qur'an , kissed it, placed his brow upon it, then raised it above his head and said, "Oh God... Upon this, your Qur'an, which you inscribed on the heart of Mohammad, I have not touched nor do I have any information about Razzaq's money. My daughter, too, does not have any information about this. If I am not telling the truth, may you, oh Qur'an , strike me, my daughter and my wife dead!"

Then he handed the Qur'an to Razzaq and said, "Repeat after me!"

The crowd was all ears. Mr. Saberi said, "Oh, may the Qur'an ,"

Razzaq repeated, "Oh, may the Qur'an,"

"-That is the word of God."

"-That is the word of God."

"-Strike the youthfulness of my children!"

Razzaq backed away. Like a tree struck by a gusting wind, he trembled visibly. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He looked around. People's stares pierced his body. He stuttered, "-Strike the youthfulness of my children."

"-That two hundred tumans of my money"

"-That two hundred tumans of my money"

"-Has been stolen by either Saberi or his daughter."

"-Has been stolen by either Saberi or his daughter."

With sweat running down his face, Razzaq gave his place to his sons. Saberi said, "Say that we saw with our own eyes that Mahtab, Saberi's daughter, took our money."

The young men repeated that sentence verbatim.

Then Saberi reached under his white cloak and produced a wad of money from his pocket. He counted out two hundredtumans, held them in his hand, circled them over his head and, in front of the multitude, gave them to Razzaq. Razzaq took the money. The crowd's fever subsided.

It was noon. The crowd had left. Saberi, crestfallen and ashamed, passed among the people. He thought that the people all imagined he had taken the money. Dizzy, he felt sick and began to vomit. The people became excited again. Some said that the Qur'an has begun to work its miracle.

Razzaq and his sons entered their house and locked the door behind them. Razzaq then said to his wife, "Didn't I say I would get it!"

The wife pulled Razzaq aside and whispered to him, "But I found the money!"

"Where was it?" asked Razzaq.

"It was under the short-napped coarse rug," the wife said.

"You bitch," said Razzaq. "Didn't you say that you saw with your own eyes Mahtab take it?"

"Your children said that, too."

"What are we going to do?"

"We can't reveal that now, can we? We will become the laughing stock of everyone."

Razzaq thought for a few minutes, then said, "Look! Don't let the children learn about this. Two hundred tumans is a good sum of money. We'll just pocket it!"

Saberi remained the rest of the day at home. His daughter took some flour to the neighbors who baked bread for them. He could not shake off the thought of the incident. He felt strange. Nor could he concentrate. The smallest thing shattered his thoughts, then disappointment overwhelmed him. The thought of loneliness hurt him the most, especially that he was a stranger in the village. Gradually, vengeance made its way into his mind. Vengeance against those people, people who, with wide eyes, had stared at him and who were indifferent towards his plight. He was disgusted with people who oppressed him simply because he was a stranger or who oppressed him by choosing silence when they could help. Yes, he felt lonely.

At night, struck by fever, he became delirious. He was afraid of things. His eight-year-old daughter, Mahtab, tended him.

Saberi's was a weak constitution. He was aware of his weakness. Besides, his illness had no medical remedy. He could not stand excessive oppression. He had been exiled from his birthplace because of this same quirk in his character. He had been marked a non-conformist, perhaps a crazy man. Now, too, those same feelings returned to him. He could not convince himself that one can give up two hundred tumans just like that. He had believed that the Qur'an would strike the liar and force him to pay the money back.

The night passed slowly. Saberi lay in bed, feverish and sweaty. He was hot for a while and then a chill overtook him. His daughter had covered him with the quilt as well as a rug. Strange sounds bothered Saberi's ear. They were throwing stones at his house. Windows were broken. Terrified, the girl moved closer to her father. Broken pieces of shattered glass rested on the quilt. Saberi's leg had been cut in two or three places. Forgetting that his body ached, Saberi rose. Like a savage panther, he moved out of the house. Black shadows lurked in the dark. They were the village children.

One child shouted, "Grab your stuff and beat it, you thief. We don't like thieves around here."

Another said, "Son of a bitch. If you stay here, we will kill you."

They continued to throw rocks. Saberi picked up a club and pursued them. Their teeth shone like shells in the dark. They shouted obscenities at him and hid. Then, like genies, they materialized in front of him and disappeared in the bend of the lane. The dogs barked. The voices of the sons of Razzaq could be heard; they were encouraging the children and putting words into their mouths. Finally they cornered Saberi and injured him. But when Saberi broke a couple of hands and legs, the children gradually withdrew. The houses swallowed the people. Saberi was on the ground, moaning. His daughter sat beside him and eventually took him home. At midnight, Saberi lay in a corner of the room and a painful and moribund sleep closed his eyes. He was so tired that he did not open his eyes until morning. His daughter, sleepless, remained awake, listening to her father's moans and groans.

The sun was high in the sky when Saberi woke up. His head felt as heavy as a mountain. Like an angel, his daughter was sleeping next to him. When his eyes got used to the light, he could not believe what he saw. Like a corpse prepared for washing, the room was empty. The unprocessed rice was gone; so was his wheat. The torn and empty gunny sacks were scattered all over the floor. Terrified, he rose, walked to the closet. His can of money, too, was empty. Involuntarily he sat where he was. Then suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and his eyes sparkled with glee. It was as if he had made a great discovery. He left the house. The people were sitting in a row beneath the wall of the fort, taking the sun. As soon as they saw Saberi, they began to laugh. Saberi stopped. His eyes were filled with tears. People became silent. Perhaps for a moment they felt sorry for him!

Saberi said, "Please let me collect my IOU's and leave the village. But you must get my money back from Razzaq. Would I have taken an oath if I were not telling the truth! Could I not take a false oath, one that would prevent me from having to pay two hundred tumans ? Last night, they plundered a thousand tumans of my savings and took two sacks of unprocessed and processed rice. For God's sake, give me my money! You can keep the rice and wheat."

The peoples' looks pierced the bodies of the sons of Razzaq. Hassan Razzaq said, "Do you believe him? Saberi is crazy. Last night he wanted to kill your children. He is telling a lie. He wants compensation for the two hundred tumans

Darvish Razzaq said, "Have things gone so wrong that now you slander as well? Who the hell are you? Where the hell do you come from?"

The crowd one by one put in their two cents support for the sons of Razzaq. Saberi felt very lonely. He began to walk in the direction of the house of the Kadkhoda. The children followed him. It was rumored in the village that Saberi had gone mad. Children threw rocks at him. For some reason, whatever Saberi said sounded incredibly funny to the villagers. Even the Kadkhoda did not take him seriously. When Saberi persisted, the Kadkhoda ordered his men to throw Saberi out of the house. Saberi began to run away; the people ran after him, throwing rocks at him. Saberi went on to the roof of the mosque and sat there. Respecting the sanctum of the mosque, people here refrained from throwing rocks at him. He took control of himself and organized his thoughts. He could not appeal to the people. He knew they were hostile; there was not a spark of mercy or tenderness in their looks. Seeing that he could not trust the people, he felt more vengeful. He did not like to be called "mad". "They regularly brand whoever exposes the truth mad," he thought. "Mine is not a special case. Why don't they just go ahead and..."

He thought that because he was in the right, if he tried to go to the gendarme's headquarters, people would stop him. Therefore, he lay down. The roof was cold. The sun had covered him and only one thought occupied his mind--the thought of revenge. Then he had an idea. "Don't they think that I am crazy? Fine. Why don't I use their own idea to take my revenge!"

He rose and looked at the meydan of the village. The men were sitting in the meydan ; the women were washing dishes by the brook. People were signing a scroll which the Kadkhoda held in his hand. When he saw Saberi, he said, "Fellow, I am gathering signatures to send to the authorities to come and pick you up."

Saberi said, "What is the matter with you, Jewish matron? God has sent me to educate you."

People laughed. Saberi continued to speak. He walked down from the top of the roof of the mosque. Mehr Ali was taking his donkey to carry firewood. Saberi took Mehr Ali's donkey and rode it backwards. He then grasped the donkey's tail and said, "People, this is Dajjal's donkey. If you don't like that, think of her as the spouse of the Kadkhoda. Really, she is the mother of the blind Razzaq. You must all follow Dajjal's donkey (he pointed at the dung). As you see, I have opened the gate to provide you with diamonds! Didn't you want money? Here's your chance. Go ahead!"

The children had calmed down. They laughed. They followed the donkey as Saberi, holding a broom in his hand, went from lane to lane and made music with his mouth.

"God has sent me!" he shouted. "If you don't believe me, go ask Him. I work a life time and save every penny to get enough to release my child from the orphanage. You come and steal my money. Then a seyyed visits here for four days, kills Imam Hossein a couple of times and is paid money that would take me ten years to save. For this reason, God has sent me to exterminate all foolish Kadkhodas."

Men and women followed him, laughed at him, and made faces at him. Saberi had left the village and was going in the direction of the graveyard. There he got off the donkey. People formed a semi-circle around him. He picked up a large rock and threw it against a gravestone. People tried to stop him. Saberi threw rocks at them. He mostly destroyed tombstones that were higher than the ground level and which bore the date of burial. He shouted, "The time for class divisions is past. Rise up!"

People were losing control. They beat Saberi up. But Saberi only laughed. He had become immune against pain. They put him on the donkey. He clapped and sang songs. When he got to his room, he was extremely tired. He fell into a deep sleep.

The village was feverish. Everyone was talking about Saberi and his actions. It seemed that, in Saberi, they had found the means for amusement they had been missing. After all, this was a break from their continuous backbiting. Late in the afternoon the Kadkhoda's messenger came. The gendarme chief had said, "Watch him for a couple of days. At the moment the officers are involved in the disarmament effort!"

Now Saberi had become an important person. No one could contradict him. He climbed the walls like a cat; dogs that no one dared approach were his friends and did not bother him. He invited himself into people's homes. He would, for instance, say, "Kavus, I will be your guest for lunch today." Kavus then had to entertain him or suffer the consequences.

He also bulldozed his way into houses. Women did not dare leave at night. Late at night he was pushed out of their homes. First he talked to people in a calm tone. He would talk about his misfortune, about blind Razzaq. But soon his soft words were followed by actions that even he himself could not condone. Everyone was scared of him. When he sent his daughter to a house for milk, yogurt, or eggs, no one dared refuse her. Saberi had become a holy terror, the very thing he wanted. He would stand at the gate of the fort and unload all the firewood brought into the village. He then would deduct the two percent for the government, the bribe for the forestry official and his own share before he let the wood enter. People had to react to what he did. They stopped going to their fields. From morning to evening they followed Saberi around. Their wives had to come and take the men home for lunch. The village was in chaos. Saberi no longer respected any of the villagers. He cursed all of them equally. And, although he had started this for show, it had now become second nature to him. He had come to believe that he was mad. As long as he was dealing with the villagers he was crazy. He could not control himself. But when he was alone in his room, he turned into a really insane person with foam spewing from his mouth. He had lost his mind. Jumping from high walls, he had injured his testicles which hurt badly. He slept not a wink at night. He could not even stretch his leg without excruciating pain. Nor could he sit or lie down. He had to stand. Otherwise, he walked the village alleys and threw rocks at houses. In his second note to the gendarmes, the Kadkhoda wrote, "Hurry in sending those officers. People's lives, property and honor are in danger. Saberi has us all by the neck!"

Seyfullah had returned from town with stuff for the wedding of his son, Dadullah. They were Saberi's neighbors. Saberi walked into the village and said, "I'll give a gift of fifty tumans for Seyfullah's son's wedding."

Seyfullah's family took candy to Saberi's house and properly invited him to the wedding. They did this as a bribe to quiet him down for that night. They knew that the sight of a large crowd brought on Saberi's unspeakable behavior and foam to his mouth.

At the wedding musicians played. Saberi had become a friend of the musicians. Often he played the drum and danced the stick dance to make people laugh. Everything went smoothly until noon. Seyfullah was especially happy that all was going well. Late in the afternoon, the gendarmes arrived. Gendarmes to take Saberi!

This created a great deal of confusion in the village. The gendarme was at the Kadkhoda's. The villagers insisted that the gendarme should stay and participate in the wedding celebration. Razzaq had asked people not to allow Saberi to get near the gendarme. The Kadkhoda and the villagers had made the gendarme think that Saberi was an uncontrollable mad man. Saberi shaved, put on proper clothes, held his daughter by the hand and tried to go and talk to the gendarme. People did not let him. He insisted. He cried. They did not budge. Instead they held him down and tied him up. His cries did not help him. To start with the sound of the drum which came in from above through the chimney helped him to concentrate his thoughts. Later, however, it hurt his ears. He lost his concentration. The sound of the drum, bashing against his mind, shattered his nerves. He fell into a coma. His daughter was being held at Ali's house. The sunset was giving way to dusk and a cool breeze, mixed with a light rain, wafted. The Kadkhoda brought the gendarme to Saberi's room. Saberi was not awake. He had collapsed into a miserable form. He resembled a sleeping panther. Recalling what the Kadkhoda had said about Saberi, the gendarme did not dare approach him. Saberi was not breathing. The gendarme said, "Take care that he does not die. You will be responsible!"

From there they went to watch women perform the kerchief dance. The meydan was lit up. A large bonfire burned in the middle of the square and lanterns were hung on the fort wall to add to the light of the fire. Women danced in a circle around the fire. They wore new clothes, especially colorful tribal skirts. Their cheerful faces were adorned with their nicely arranged hair and expensive coins; coins that made a music of their own and added to the joy of the moment. Nobody thought of Saberi any more. Men had gone to have dinner. Only the women were dancing.

Saberi was awake. His daughter had awakened him. He cut the rope with a knife. He sat up. He looked like a rabid dog. He was extremely angry. He took off his clothes. Terrified, the girl ran away. Saberi, like a nimble cat, crossed the yard and, suddenly, stark naked, jumped into the middle of the circle of dancing women. The women screamed and ran away. The men, who had gone to have dinner, hurried out of Seyfullah's house. Saberi, still naked, held a burning log in his hand and whirled it around his head. The gendarme said, "God forbid! This man is dangerous!"

The Kadkhoda said, "This is nothing. We have had it up to here while waiting for you. But don't worry. I'll take care of it. We will tie him up till tomorrow morning."

The gendarme said, "That's fine. But I'll have to make a report on all this. Make sure you don't injure him. If he dies, you'll be responsible."

The meydan was empty. Saberi was doing his thing, throwing the burning logs around. The villagers, carrying clubs and ropes, surrounded him as you would a restive bull or a wild stallion. After much trouble, he was overpowered. His eyes were bloodshot and his body was black and blue.

The Kadkhoda said, "Mash Siyavash, the rope is no longer going to do it. We need the chain. He is dangerous. He is suicidal. He might harm people."

Mash Siyavash said, "Chains went out with the khans. We can't use chains. There is a gendarme in the village."

The Kadkhoda said, "Don't be a fool. gendarmes in villages follow the wishes of the Kadkhoda. Besides, he himself saw what shape the man is in."

"The chain is heavy," said Mash Siyavash. "It may kill him."

"You don't worry," said the Kadkhoda. "Ill accept the responsibility."

"Whatever you say," said Mash Siyavash. "You are the Kadkhoda."

Then turning to a third man present, he said, "Mash Karim, you be witness to this!"

Mash Siyavash's father had served as the sheriff for a great khan. The chain had remained in his basement from those days. It was heavy: seventeen mans. It took four men to carry it and bring it into Saberi's room. Saberi's eyes were red; his tongue was dry. He could not move. Only every now and then his eyelids moved. He behaved like a quiet, obedient lamb. His eyes showed no indication of protest, anger or resignation. They placed his neck, hands and feet in chains, ran the chain up the roof through the fireplace chimney and there placed it under the heavy roller used for pressing the dirt on the roof after each rain. Then they covered Saberi with a blanket and left the room. Saberi's daughter sat across from him but did not dare look in her father's eyes. The drums resumed their beat. Saberi felt his brain was exploding. He shouted as hard as he could but no voice came out of his throat. Only his mouth opened and closed, showing a row of uneven teeth. The more he struggled, the more he hurt his neck until blood flowed from his neck, wrists and ankles. He no longer knew who he was or where he was. He felt an invisible hand strike a sledge hammer on his head. He grew weak. His body burnt and a numbing sensation overtook him. Blood flowed from his mouth as well. They had treated him like an animal. They had beaten him up. His groin hurt the most. He felt air was entering his body. His belly was puffed up.

* * *

It was a long night. The bride and the groom had been ushered into their wedding chamber. First the blood on his wrists clotted. The chain made noise as Saberi struggled to release himself. He was short of breath. He felt a burning sensation inside his chest. He moved his shoulders up and down a couple of times. His open eyes pierced the ceiling. The girl had gone to sleep a long time ago. There seemed to be no end to the night.

Shiraz
Spring 1967