The Book of Fate (15 page)

‘Yes.'

‘Why didn't you resist? Why didn't you stand up to them? Why didn't you rebel?'

He looked flushed.

‘You should have claimed your right, even if by force. If people refused to submit to coercion, there wouldn't be so many oppressors in the world. It is this submissiveness that strengthens the foundations of tyranny.'

I was amazed; he had no notion of reality. I stifled my laugh and with a smile that must have been sarcastic, I said, ‘So you didn't submit to coercion?'

He gaped at me and said, ‘Who? Me?'

‘Yes, you. They forced you to sit through that marriage ceremony, didn't they?'

‘Who said such a thing?'

‘It's obvious. You can't say you were counting the minutes to get married. Your poor mother worked so hard, swooned and pleaded so much, until you finally gave in.'

‘My mother said all this, didn't she? Well, she told you the truth. And you are right, I was forced into it. Beating and torturing people isn't the only means of oppression; sometimes people use love and affection to disarm you. But when I agreed to get married, I didn't think any girl would want to marry me under these circumstances.'

For a while, we ate in silence. Then he picked up his tea glass, leaned against a floor cushion and said, ‘You are really good at cutting someone down to size… I like it. You didn't waste a minute.' Then he laughed and I started laughing, too.

‘Do you know why I didn't want a wife?' he asked.

‘No. Why?'

‘Because when a man gets married his life is no longer his. His hands and feet are tied and he gets so tangled up that he can't think about his ideals or try to reach them. Someone once said, “When a man gets married, he stands still. When his first child is born, he drops to his knees. When the second child comes, he lies prostrate. And with the third one, he is destroyed.” Or something along those lines… Of course, I don't mind having my breakfast ready and my home clean, having someone to wash my clothes and take care of me. But this is all human selfishness and it is rooted in the incorrect way we are brought up in a male-dominated society. I believe we shouldn't think about women like this. Women are the most oppressed people in history. They were the first group of humans to be exploited by another group. They have always been used as a tool and they continue to be used as a tool.'

Although his comments sounded a little like they came straight from a book and I didn't understand a few of the words, such as ‘exploited', I still liked what he had said. The phrase ‘Women are the most oppressed people in history' became etched in my mind.

‘Is that why you didn't want to get married?' I asked.

‘Yes, I didn't want to be restricted and confined, because that is the inescapable nature of traditional marriages. Perhaps if we were friends and of the same mind and outlook, it would be different.'

‘So why didn't you marry someone like that?'

‘The girls in our group don't opt for marriage all that easily. They, too, have dedicated themselves to the cause. Besides, my mother hates everyone in our group. She used to say, “If you marry one of them, I will kill myself.”'

‘Did you love her?'

‘Love who?… Oh, no. Don't misunderstand. I don't mean I was in love with someone and my mother was against it. No! My parents were insisting that I get married and I decided to put an end to the whole issue by marrying someone in our group. That way, she wouldn't become an obstacle to my activities, but my mother read my hand.'

‘In your group? Which group do you mean?'

‘It is not a formal group,' he said. ‘We're just a bunch of people who get together to take valuable actions that benefit the disadvantaged. After all, everyone has goals and ideals in life and strives to achieve them. What are your goals? What direction do you want to take?'

‘My goal was to continue my education. But now… I don't know.'

‘Don't tell me you want to spend the rest of your life scrubbing this apartment.'

‘No!'

‘Then what? If your goal is to get an education, do it. Why are you giving up?'

‘Because they don't allow married people in secondary school,' I said.

‘You mean to tell me you don't know there are other ways of getting an education?'

‘Like what?'

‘Go to night school and take the standardised tests. Not everyone has to go to an ordinary school.'

‘I know, but wouldn't you object?'

‘Why would I object? As a matter of fact, I would rather be with an educated and intelligent person. Besides, it's your right. Who am I to stand in your way? I'm not your jailer.'

I was stunned. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What sort of a man was he? How different he was from all the other men I knew. I felt as though a light as bright as the sun had been turned on in my life. I was so happy I could barely talk. I said, ‘Are you telling the truth? Oh, if you would only let me go to school…'

He wanted to laugh at my reaction but instead he kindly said, ‘Of course I'm telling the truth. It is your right and you don't need to thank anyone for it. Everyone should be able to pursue what they like and believe to be the right path for them. Being married doesn't mean impeding your spouse's interests. On the contrary, it means supporting them. Isn't that so?'

I nodded enthusiastically. I understood his inference that I, too, should not impede his activities. From that day on, our agreement became the unwritten rule of our life together; and although because of it I gained some of my human rights, in the end it was a rule that proved not to my benefit.

He didn't go to work that day and, naturally, I didn't ask why. He decided we should go to his parents' house for lunch. They were leaving on their trip that evening. It took me a while to get ready. I didn't know how I should dress. I decided to wear my headscarf as I usually did and if he disapproved then I would put on my chador. When I walked out of the bedroom, he pointed to my headscarf and said, ‘What is that? Does it have to stay?'

‘Well, ever since my father gave me permission, I have only worn a headscarf. But if you prefer, I will wear a chador.'

‘Oh, no! No!' he exclaimed. ‘Even the headscarf is too much. Of course, it's up to you. Dress any way you like. This is a human right, too.'

 

After a very long time, that day I felt cheerful. I felt I had a supporter I could rely on, I felt the dreams that only a few hours ago had seemed impossible were now within my reach. And I walked beside him with tranquillity. We talked. He talked more than I did. At times, he was too bookish and sounded like a teacher lecturing a stupid student. But I didn't mind. He was truly well read and when it came to experience and education, I wouldn't even be considered his student. I was in awe of him.

At his parents' house everyone gathered around us. His oldest sister, Monir, and her two sons had come from Tabriz. The two boys were somewhat distant and didn't mingle with the others that much. They mostly spoke to each other and only in Turkish. Monir was very different from her sisters and looked much older than them. To me, she looked more like their aunt than their sister. Everyone was happy to see that Hamid and I were getting along with each other. Hamid was constantly joking with his mother and sisters. He kept teasing them and, stranger yet, he would kiss them on the cheek. To me it was all funny and surprising. In the house where I grew up, the men rarely spoke to the women, much less joked and laughed with them. I liked the atmosphere in their home. Ardeshir, Mansoureh's son, had started crawling. He was very sweet and kept throwing himself into my arms. I felt well and I laughed from the bottom of my heart.

‘Well, thank God, the bride knows how to laugh,' Hamid's mother said joyfully. ‘We hadn't seen her laughter.'

‘In fact, she looks so much more beautiful when she laughs, with those dimples in her cheeks,' Mansoureh added. ‘I swear, if I were you I would always laugh.' I blushed and looked down. Mansoureh went on, ‘See, brother. See what a beautiful girl we found for you. Say thank you.'

Hamid laughed. ‘I am much obliged.'

‘What is the matter with all of you?' Manijeh said, sulking. ‘Why are you acting like you've never seen a human being before?'

Then she walked out of the living room and her mother said, ‘Leave her alone. After all, she was always her brother's pet. Oh, I am so happy. Now that I see you two together, I feel so relieved. I thank God a hundred thousand times. Now I can fulfil my pledge at the house of God.'

Just then, Hamid's father walked in and we stood up to greet him. He kissed me on the forehead and gently said, ‘Well, Miss Bride. How are you? I hope my son hasn't been bothering you.'

I blushed and looked down and quietly said, ‘No, he hasn't.'

‘If he ever does, come and tell me. I will pull his ear so hard that he won't dare ever upset you again.'

‘Dear Dad, please don't,' Hamid said, laughing. ‘You've pulled our ears so much that we are all long-eared.'

While we were saying our goodbyes, his mother drew me aside and said, ‘Listen, my dear, ever since the olden days it has been said that you have to establish the terms of your marriage from the very first night. Stand firm. I don't mean fight with him; instead, use good humour and kindness. You will find the way. After all, you are a woman. Flirt, coquette, sulk and charm. In short, don't let him stay out late at night and in the morning send him to work on time. You have to cut his friends out of your life. And, God willing, get pregnant soon. Don't give him a break. Once he has a couple of kids around him, he will forget all about his tomfooleries. Show me your grit.'

On the way back home, Hamid asked, ‘Well, what was Mother telling you?'

‘Nothing. She just said I should take care of you.'

‘Yes, I know; to take care of me so that I stop socialising with my friends. Right?'

‘Something like that…'

‘Any what did you say?'

‘What could I say?'

‘You should have said, I'm not a watch-guard in hell to want to make his life miserable.'

‘How could I possibly say such a thing to my mother-in-law on the very first day?'

‘God save us from these old-fashioned women!' he groaned. ‘They don't understand the concept of marriage. They think a wife is a shackle around a wretched man's ankles, when in fact the meaning of marriage is companionship, collaboration, understanding, acceptance of each other's desires and equal rights. Do you think marriage means anything other than this?'

‘No. You are absolutely right.' And in my heart, I praised all that wisdom and selflessness.

‘I can't tolerate women who constantly ask their husband, where were you, who were you with and why did you come home late? Among us, men and women have equal and clearly defined rights, and neither has the right to fetter the hands and feet of the other or to force them to do things they don't like. And they don't have the right to cross-examine each other either.'

‘How wonderful!'

I got the message loud and clear. I must never ask why, where and with whom… The truth is that, at the time, it really wasn't important to me. After all, he was much older than me, much better educated and far more experienced. Surely he knew better how one should live. Besides, what did I care what he did and where he went? It was more than enough for me that he believed in women's rights and would allow me to continue my education and pursue my interests.

We returned home late in the evening. Without saying a word, he took a pillow and a sheet and started preparing a place to sleep. I was ill at ease. It was embarrassing for me to sleep on the bed and to make someone as kind as him sleep on the floor. I hesitated for a while and finally said, ‘This is really not right. Go sleep on the bed and I will sleep on the floor.'

‘No, I don't mind. I can sleep anywhere.'

‘But I'm used to sleeping on the floor.'

‘Me, too.'

I went into the bedroom and wondered how long we could continue living like that. I had no amorous feelings or instinctive desire for him, but I did feel indebted to him. He had saved me from my parents' house and he was extending the greatest kindness to me by allowing me to go back to school. And that first day's feeling of repulsion at the thought of him touching me had disappeared. I went back to the hall, stood over him and said, ‘Please come and sleep in your place.'

He looked at me with curious, probing eyes. With a faint smile, he reached out and I helped him get up; and he took his place as my husband.

That night, after he fell into a deep sleep, I cried for hours and paced up and down the apartment. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I had no clear thoughts. I was just sad.

 

A few days later, Mrs Parvin came to see me. She was all excited. ‘I waited all this time for you to come and see me, but you didn't, so I decided to come myself and see how you are.'

‘I'm fine!'

‘So how is he? He hasn't bothered you, has he? Tell me, what did you have to suffer on the first night? The state you were in, I thought you would surely have a heart attack.'

‘Yes, I felt terrible that day. But he understood. Seeing the way I was, he went out and let me sleep comfortably.'

‘Wow! What a sweetheart!' she said, surprised. ‘Thank God. You can't imagine how worried I was. Now do you see how wise he is? If you had married that butcher, Asghar, God knows what he would have done to you. So, all in all, are you pleased with him?'

‘Yes, he's a very nice man. His family is nice, too.'

‘Thank God! Now you see how different they are from your other suitors.'

‘Yes, and I owe it all to you. I am only now realising what a great service you have done for me.'

‘Oh, come on… it was nothing. You are so good yourself that they liked you, and thank God you are now comfortable. It was your good fortune. Miserable me, I didn't have any such luck.'