Mina

Mina
We are playing ping-pong on your resort house long dinner table. Wonderful smell of sandalwood and aroma of good home cooking still lingers on my mind. Here you are with your loose gown rolled up sleeve entertaining us kids so your friends upstairs can play gene rummy without hassle of dealing with us kids. You did not make sense in the way I pictured adults too serious or busy with their own business. I would call you in a coarse voice every morning waking the whole house up. And your daughters beautifully blossoming in front of you, even in those days I could see the immense love you had for them. When they ran around the sea resort in their bikini’s you saw your youth and the way you broke hearts and gained new lovers. I’d seen your pictures when you were young and god no one came close to being as beautiful as you. Summers I’d wait for that big white Chevy Impala to take me with god knows how many others my age to the shores of Caspian. You loved us equally when it came to lunch or dinnertime or when we went to the movies I always felt your love for all of us. Morning we had our program of breakfast soccer till noon and then heading back home for lunch and a short nap which none of us kids would participate in and later in the afternoon heading for the old theater in Ramsar. Now I realize how rare those days were and somehow I feel that you instilled this fear of losing those moments as if you knew what is awaiting us. We all left Iran for education first your kids and then I followed them for cold gray England. You came and stayed for six months and I clearly remember how you changed that cold environment. I came to London to spend time with you and your kids. The same warmth of your home cooking and love for us all helped us in overcoming homesickness. I miss those days the innocence of naiveté and common ignorance that had engulfed the well to do classes in our society. I was taking a break in the lobby of the International school, when I was confronted by some one who had a whole bunch of anti government literature in his leather looking under arm file bag. He jumped right into it and began telling me how the Shah’s regime is a puppet regime and takes his orders from Washington. He told me of the bravery of men and women who’ve fought to the last breath in Shah’s torture chambers. I was amazed by all this and quite impressed that there were people who were fighting the regime! I had some idea that my father and quite a few of other s in my family were involved in anti imperialist struggles of 1950 s. Now there were all those rumors, which mainly Savak and its agents were trying to push on student’s abroad. They dissuaded people by saying confederation and communists drive people crazy, brainwash them and make them do things against the Shah and the nation. You were the most concerned even though my involvement with the confederation of Iranian Students was minimal. I’d sometimes try to get their paper or get books from Chinese stores that sold works of Lenin and Mao. Regardless you sounded the alarm to my mother and in matter of months I was back home from there on in hope of having me under closer supervision I was sent to U.S. I learned about your dear brother the one that you almost worshipped, he was a Savak agent. Quite accidentally I came across bunch of documents from Shah’s embassy in Germany after activists 3-hour occupation. From there on I didn’t know who you were anymore I had to fight my resentment of you and your major cover-up. I remember how you tried once again to create some kind of haven for all of us even accepting me the way and who I was. I still get lonely and long for those sunny days by the Caspian, your delicious cooking and kind embrace. Last I heard of you had a stroke I was saddened and hoped for speedy recovery. I loved you like an aunt that I never had, we were such good friends even though you were at least 40 years older. You’ll always be remembered!!!