A Persian Requiem by Simin Daneshvar

your bath,” Zari greeted Ameh, taking the paper bag over the children’s heads, so that she could go and wash the walnuts. When she returned, Khadijeh had brought in the bag that Ameh used for her trips to the public baths, and put it down on one of the cane chairs. Ameh took out her towels and hung them on the line. Mina was dashing about chasing Marjan, but when Zari put the plate of walnuts on the table, the children rushed over excitedly.
    “Well, talk about having your prayers answered!” Zari smiled.
    “This town has turned into a zoo,” Ameh complained. “ Everywhere you go, those dark little Indian men follow you about saying, ‘Need woman, need woman!’” She dipped her hand in the pool as if to wash away the obscenity of their suggestion. Holding out her wet hand, she sat on a chair and continued:
    “The children in the street tried to chase away the pathetic Indian who followed me; they were teasing, and singing some nonsense at him. Then suddenly the man brings out this chain he had with him, swings it around in the air, stamps his foot, and shoos them all away in no time.”
    Khadijeh appeared then, carrying Ameh’s opium brazier with all the accessories, as well as some fresh tea. As Zari and the twins joined her on the verandah, Mina asked: “Auntie, did the Indian cut the children’s heads off?”
    “Oh yes! He put them over his knee and sawed their heads off, didn’t he?” Marjan said with rounded eyes.
    “Our Khosrow’s late,” Ameh commented. “Perhaps that difficult final exam didn’t go too well, and that’s why he’s not home yet. I think we should send Gholam to fetch him, sister.”
    Before Zari could answer, they spotted Abol-Ghassem Khan coming up the garden path towards the verandah. He was muttering to himself and gesturing with his hands. Zari’s heart sank at the sight of him. Lately she had begun to feel as though she were facing the prophet of doom every time she saw him. And each time he blinked, she imagined he would blink her whole life away. As he reached the edge of the verandah, Zari stood up.
    “Please come in,” she invited.
    “No, I’ll just stay here.”
    “Greetings!” said Ameh Khanom, between two puffs on her opium pipe.
    She put the pipe down next to the brazier and poured some tea, which she handed to her brother. Zari’s eyes were on Abol-Ghassem Khan who put a lump of sugar in his mouth, then poured some tea into the saucer to cool it.
    “Has something happened?” she asked.
    Abol-Ghassem Khan put the saucer down on the edge of the verandah and asked: “Any news of my brother?”
    “No, not yet.”
    “I don’t really know how to tell you this,” he said. Zari suddenly felt dizzy. She sat down and said faintly, “God forbid, has something happened to Yusef?”
    “Out with it, let’s hear the worst!” Ameh cried out.
    “This morning they called from the Governor’s house,” said Abol-Ghassem Khan. “They told me: ‘Miss Gilan Taj has heard a great deal about Khosrow’s colt, and she’s decided she would like it, so we’re offering to buy. Send us the colt and we’ll gladly pay any price you like.’ God knows I’ve been in a state since this morning; I’m so distracted, I can hardly think.”
    Zari’s eyes filled with tears. She looked at Ameh, with her braided hair and red scarf, flushed and tearful by now, hardly able to fix the piece of opium on her pipe for the trembling of her hand. Sure enough, the opium slipped from her grasp into the blazing brazier, raising a lot of smoke.
    “A curse upon their household!” she said. “I’m so furious I could take this brazier with its burning charcoal and smash it over my own head! You didn’t happen to mention, I suppose, that the boy’s whole existence revolves around his horse? They cut off your tongue, did they?”
    Mina sidled up to Ameh and tried to offer her the one remainingwalnut which she had held tightly in her little fist.
    “Have it, auntie,” she urged, as if