Mirza Aga Khan Mumtahn-ul-Mulk Aliyar Fakhran — During the Diplomatic Mission in Russia
In 20th-century Iran, the title Mirza (میرزا) underwent a major transformation, shifting from a mark of high nobility to a general indicator of education before eventually fading into history.
The meaning of "Mirza" depended entirely on where it was placed in relation to a person's name. This distinction remained crucial in the early 1900s:
- Before the Name (e.g., Mirza Hassan): This designated a literate man, a clerk, or a secretary. In an era where literacy was a specialized skill, being a "Mirza" meant you were part of the professional, educated class.
- After the Name (e.g., Abbas Mirza): This indicated royal or princely status. It was reserved for the sons of the Shah or high-ranking members of the Qajar dynasty.
During the first three decades of the century, "Mirza" was the standard title for:
- Accountants and Scribes: Known as Mirza-ye Benevise, these men handled the financial and administrative records for the government or wealthy merchants.
- Government Bureaucrats: As Iran began building a modern state apparatus, "Mirza" became synonymous with the civil servants working in the newly formed ministries.
The turning point for the term came in 1935 under Reza Shah Pahlavi. As part of a sweeping modernization and "Westernization" program:
- He officially abolished all aristocratic and honorary titles, including Khan, Agha (in its old sense), and Mirza.
- The goal was to create a sense of national equality. The title "Agha" (placed before the last name) was adopted as the universal, egalitarian address for all Iranian men, similar to "Mr."
By the latter half of the 20th century, "Mirza" had almost entirely lost its function as a living title:
- Surnames: It survived primarily as a prefix or suffix in family names, such as Mirzakhani, Mirzazadeh, or Amir-Mirza. For example, Maryam Mirzakhani (1977–2017), the renowned Iranian mathematician and Fields Medal winner, carried the title as part of her surname, representing the legacy of education and intellectual achievement associated with the historical "Mirza" class.
- Nostalgia: If used in conversation, it was often a term of endearment or respect for an elderly, dignified man who still practiced traditional calligraphy or possessed "old-world" manners.
Mirza Hashem Amoli was a prominent religious scholar and jurist (faqih) of the modern era. As a figure in contemporary Islamic jurisprudence, he contributed to theological discourse during a transformative period in Iran's religious and intellectual history.
His works and teachings reflected the intersection of traditional Islamic law with the evolving circumstances of the 20th century, positioning him among the respected voices in Shi'a scholarship.
Evolution Summary
| Period | Primary Meaning | Social Context |
|---|---|---|
| 1900–1935 | Literate professional or Prince. | Highly respected; indicated status or education. |
| Post-1935 | Legally abolished as a title. | Replaced by "Agha" for formal address. |
| Late 1900s | Part of a surname or archaic honorific. | Linked to family history rather than current profession. |
Before the 1935 reforms, Iranian society was rigidly stratified under the landlord-peasant system (Nezam-e Arbab-va Ra'iyat). Social hierarchy was absolute:
- Khans and Aghas: Held exclusive titles denoting landed nobility and administrative authority.
- Peasants and Laborers: Had no formal titles and existed at the bottom of a feudal order.
- Women: Were addressed only as Khanoom (if upper-class) or had no formal address if lower-class.
Reza Shah's decree represented a radical break from this feudal system:
- All men became "Agha" (Mr.), regardless of birth or wealth.
- All women became "Banoo" or "Khanoom" (Mrs./Lady), regardless of class.
- Aristocratic titles (Khan, Mirza, -ul-Mulk) were abolished to create a uniform, egalitarian nation.
This modernization granted dignity and formal respect to every Iranian citizen—a revolutionary shift that reflected the Shah's vision of a unified, modern state.
However, the reform's promise diverged sharply from its practice:
- Economic inequality persisted despite title abolition; the landlord-peasant structure remained largely intact.
- Mohammad Reza Shah's later reforms (currency stabilization, land redistribution, industrialization) accelerated development but deepened internal contradictions.
- Western influence in politics and economics intensified resentment, particularly among the clergy and traditional classes.
By 1979, these contradictions erupted in the Iranian Revolution, overthrowing a monarchy that traced its lineage 2,500 years through civilizations spanning 7,000 years. The irony: Reza Shah's egalitarian vision of "all Iranians as equals" could not survive the very modernization that created it.
In the 19th century, the term Khan (خان) served as a multifaceted title in Persia (Iran), primarily denoting social status, political authority, or simple politeness.
During the Qajar era (1789–1925), "Khan" was an extremely common title used for noblemen, courtiers, and tribal leaders.
- Tribal Authority: It was the standard title for the heads of powerful nomadic tribes (like the Bakhtiari or Qashqai). These Khans held significant local power, often acting as autonomous rulers over their territories.
- Bureaucratic Rank: Within the central government, it was a title bestowed by the Shah upon high-ranking officials and military commanders.
By the 19th century, the term began to shift from a strictly hereditary or granted noble title toward a general honorific.
- It was attached after a man's name (e.g., Daryoosh Khan) to mark politeness or social distance.
- While Aqa (Mister) was also used, Khan carried a slightly more formal or prestigious weight in 19th-century social hierarchies compared to its more informal use today.
The word has two distinct origins in Persian history:
- Turko-Mongol Origin: Borrowed from Old Turkic (qaɣan), referring to a "ruler" or "king." This is the source of the political title.
- Middle Persian Origin: Derived from Middle Persian (xān), meaning "house" or "inn," which led to the word Caravanserai (a roadside inn for travelers).
In summary, a "Khan" in 19th-century Persia was typically a man of influence—either a tribal chief, a government official, or a member of the landed gentry—though it was increasingly used as a respectful way to address any man of standing.
In the context of 20th-century Iran, Mumtahen-ul-Mulk (Persian: ممتحنالملک) was a high-ranking aristocratic title that roughly translates to "The Examined of the Kingdom" or "The Proven of the Realm." It is most famously associated with Mirza Mehdi Khan Shaqaqi, a prominent 19th and early 20th-century figure who was a pioneer of modern architecture and diplomacy in Iran.
The title is composed of three Arabic-derived Persian words:
- Mumtahen (ممتحن): Meaning "one who has been tested," "examined," or "proven."
- Al (ال): The definite article "the."
- Mulk (ملک): Meaning "kingdom," "country," or "realm."
In the Qajar era (up until 1925), titles ending in -ul-Mulk were granted by the Shah to elite civil servants, diplomats, and intellectuals to denote their service to the state. "Mumtahen-ul-Mulk" specifically implied that the holder was a person of proven merit and expertise who had been "tested" by the state through rigorous education or service.
The title is almost inseparable from the man who held it, Mirza Mehdi Khan (1844–1920). He was a transformative figure in 20th-century Iranian history for several reasons:
- Pioneer Architect: He was the first Iranian to be formally trained in academic architecture in Europe (Paris). He designed iconic buildings in Tehran, including the Sepahsalar Mosque and Madrasa and the original Majlis (Parliament) Building.
- Diplomat: He served in various diplomatic roles, representing Iran in Europe and eventually serving in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
- The "Examined" Title: He allegedly received the title because of his extensive and successful examinations in France, which were unprecedented for an Iranian student at the time.
- Memoirs: His autobiography, Khaterat-e Mumtahen-ul-Mulk, is considered one of the most valuable primary sources for understanding the social and political transition from the Qajar period to the early 20th century.
By the early 20th century, such titles were becoming symbols of the "Old Guard." In 1935, under Reza Shah Pahlavi, these elaborate aristocratic titles were officially abolished in favor of modern, fixed surnames. Many families, including descendants of Mirza Mehdi Khan, eventually adopted their titles or variations of them (like Shaqaqi or Momtahen) as their permanent family names.
Building on the history of that title, it is fascinating how it transitioned from a formal bureaucratic designation to a prestigious family legacy in 20th-century Iran.
Mumtahen-ul-Mulk (ممتحنالملک) literally means "The Proven of the Kingdom" or "The Tested of the Realm."
- Summary: In the Qajar era, it was an aristocratic title given to individuals who had demonstrated exceptional expertise—often through rigorous Western education or high-level diplomatic service—signifying they were "tested" and "approved" by the state.
During the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Iranian government used these titles to categorize the elite. A title ending in -ul-Mulk was among the highest honors for civil servants.
| Component | Meaning | Significance |
|---|---|---|
| Mumtahen | Tested / Examined | Refers to someone who has passed rigorous trials or exams. |
| Al | The | Arabic definite article. |
| Mulk | Kingdom / Country | Represents the Persian state or realm. |
As we discussed, the title is most famously tied to Mirza Mehdi Khan Shaqaqi. His life perfectly illustrates why the title was granted:
- Academic "Testing": He was the first Iranian to earn an architectural degree in Paris. His "testing" was literal—he had to prove his skills in a foreign system before bringing that knowledge back to modernize Iran.
- Diplomatic Service: He served as a bridge between Iran and Europe, specifically in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, embodying the "Proven" nature of the title through his loyalty and skill.
The year 1935 was a turning point. Reza Shah Pahlavi abolished these titles to modernize the country and eliminate the old feudal class system.
- Holders of the title had to choose permanent surnames.
- Many chose Momtahen, Shaqaqi, or Momtahen-ol-Molk as their official last name to preserve their family's history.
This title represents a bridge between the traditional Qajar aristocracy and the modernizing efforts of early 20th-century Iran.
Since you mentioned your great-grandfather Aliyar Fakhran (Mirza Agha Khan Momtahen-ol-Molk), would you like me to see if I can find more specific records regarding his diplomatic service or his time as an ambassador to the Soviet Union?
In the context of the early 20th century—spanning the transition from the late Qajar period to the era of Reza Shah Pahlavi—the name Aliyar Fakhran (known formally as Mirza Agha Khan Momtahen-ol-Molk) carried deep significance as a symbol of the "Modernizing Statesman."
His name and title reflected a man who bridged the gap between old-world Persian diplomacy and the new, centralized administration of the Pahlavi state.
- Aliyar (علییار): A name of Turkic-Persian origin meaning "Friend of Ali" or "Helper of Ali," common among the traditional elite and warrior classes of Northeastern Iran (Khorasan).
- Momtahen-ol-Molk (ممتحنالملک): As discussed, this title translates to "The Proven of the Realm." In his specific case, it signified his status as a trusted expert who had been "tested" through high-stakes international service.
- Fakhran (فخران): Likely adopted as a permanent surname during the 1935 reforms, it stems from Fakhr (Pride/Honor), marking his family as one of established noble standing.
During the transition from the Qajar dynasty to Reza Shah, Aliyar Fakhran occupied a rare position as a survivor of the old bureaucracy who was competent enough to lead the new one.
| Role | Impact and Meaning |
|---|---|
| Governor (Bojnourd & Quchan) | Represented the Central Government's Authority in the sensitive border regions of Khorasan. His role was to stabilize these areas during the shift from tribal rule to a centralized state. |
| Judge / Justice Leader | Acted as the Architect of Modern Law in regional centers like Bojnourd. This was a period when Iran moved from religious Sharia courts to a secular, codified judicial system. |
| Diplomat (Tbilisi, St. Petersburg, Batumi) | He was the Eyes and Ears of Iran in the Russian Empire and later the Soviet Union. His service in these "hotspots" during the Russian Revolution was critical for Iranian national security. |
| Ambassador (Leningrad) | His final post as Ambassador signified he was one of the Elite Diplomats of the early Pahlavi era, tasked with navigating the complex relationship with the USSR. |
To the people of the 20th-century era, a figure like Aliyar Fakhran represented Order and Modernity. He was seen as part of the Roshanfekr (Intellectual) class of statesmen who believed that for Iran to survive, it needed:
- Centralized Governance: Moving away from fragmented local khanates.
- Professional Diplomacy: Engaging with world powers (like Russia) on equal academic and legal footing.
- Rule of Law: Replacing arbitrary local rulings with a structured judicial process.
His legacy is that of a patriot who helped steer the "Ship of State" through the turbulent waters of the 1921 coup and the subsequent rise of modern Iran.
Mirza Agha Khan Momtahen-ol-Molk Aliyar Fakhran (1868–?) was a distinguished 20th-century Iranian diplomat and statesman whose career spanned the critical transition from the Qajar to the Pahlavi era.
Born in Jajarm, he was part of the elite intellectual class of his time. His education reflected the international focus required for high-level diplomacy:
- Dar al-Fonun: He studied at Iran's first modern institution of higher learning in Tehran.
- Tbilisi: He furthered his studies at the Muslim Higher School in Georgia (then part of the Russian Empire), which provided him with the linguistic and cultural fluency needed for his future roles in the region.
His career was marked by a steady rise through the diplomatic ranks, particularly in relation to Russia and the Soviet Union:
- St. Petersburg: He served as an Attaché (1314 AH) and later Vice-Consul (1316 AH) at the Iranian Embassy.
- Batumi: He served as Consul in 1319 AH, a key port city for regional trade and diplomacy.
- Leningrad (St. Petersburg): His highest diplomatic achievement was serving as the Ambassador (Sefir Kabir) of Iran to the Soviet Union.
- Regional Governance: Beyond diplomacy, he held significant domestic posts, including Governor of Bojnourd (1325 AH) and Head of Justice in the same region (1328 AH).
The title Momtahen-ol-Molk (The Examiner of the Realm) and his nickname "Kargozar" (Agent/Official) signify his role as a trusted representative of the state. In the early 20th century, these titles were reserved for individuals who bridged the gap between traditional Persian administration and modern international relations.
Based on the history of Mirza Agha Khan Momtahen-ol-Molk (Aliyar Fakhran), his name and role during the early 20th century—specifically the transition from the Qajar to the Pahlavi era—represented the "Professionalization of Iranian Diplomacy."
To have been an "Aliyar Fakhran" in that era meant being a high-level intellectual who moved fluidly between the tribal dynamics of the Iranian frontier and the sophisticated courts of Europe and Russia.
His career path highlights how the Iranian state transformed from a loose collection of provinces into a modern nation-state.
| Period/Location | Role & Title | Historical Significance |
|---|---|---|
| Late Qajar (Russia/Caucasus) | Attaché & Deputy (St. Petersburg); Consul (Batumi/Tbilisi) | He was part of the "Front Line" of Iranian interests against the Russian Empire. Serving in Tbilisi (Tiflis) and St. Petersburg meant he was managing Iran's most critical and volatile foreign relationship. |
| Transitional Era (1333 AH / ~1915 AD) | Consul of the Caucasus | He held this post during World War I and the Russian Revolution. This role required immense skill to protect Iranian citizens and interests as the Russian Empire collapsed. |
| Reza Shah Era (Khorasan) | Governor & Judge (Bojnourd/Quchan) | Post-1921, he was sent to the "Wild East" of Iran. His role as a Governor and Judge meant he was the face of the new central government, replacing local feudal power with national law and order. |
| Final Mission (Leningrad) | Ambassador | Ending his career as the Ambassador to Leningrad (the former St. Petersburg) showed he was one of the few diplomats trusted by the new Pahlavi regime to handle the sensitive relationship with the burgeoning Soviet Union. |
In the early 20th century, a man with this background was seen as a "Modernizing Patriot."
- The "Momtahen" (Proven): His title was not just a vanity—it reflected a career of surviving the most difficult diplomatic assignments in Russia during its most violent transitions.
- The Governor-Judge: By combining judicial and administrative power in Khorasan, he helped build the "Blueprint" for how modern Iranian provinces would be run—moving away from local khans toward a unified legal system.
- Cultural Bridge: Having studied at Dar ul-Funun and in Tbilisi, he was part of the first generation of Iranians who could speak the language of European modernism while remaining deeply rooted in Iranian statecraft.
When the 1935 surname reforms arrived, the name Fakhran (meaning "The Proud ones" or "Honored ones") was a fitting choice. It turned a history of individual service into a permanent family identity, marking a lineage that helped build the infrastructure of the modern Iranian state.
Based on your family history and the records we've discussed, here is a detailed timeline of Aliyar Fakhran’s (Mirza Agha Khan Momtahen-ol-Molk) significant diplomatic and administrative missions during the pivotal years of the early 20th century.
His career in the North was defined by the transition from the Imperial Russian era to the early Soviet period.
- 1308 AH (~1890/91 AD) — Tbilisi (Tiflis): Served as a member of the General Consulate and its administrative office. At this time, Tbilisi was the cultural and political hub of the Russian Caucasus and a critical link for Iranian intellectuals.
- 1314 AH (~1896/97 AD) — St. Petersburg: Appointed as the Attaché of the Embassy. This was the height of Qajar-Romanov diplomatic relations.
- 1316 AH (~1898/99 AD) — St. Petersburg: Promoted to Deputy of the Embassy, handling high-level state affairs in the Russian capital.
- 1319 AH (~1301/02 AD) — Batumi: Served as Consul in this vital Black Sea port city, a major transit point for trade and oil between the Caucasus and the world.
- 1333 AH (~1914/15 AD) — Caucasus: Elevated to Consul of the Caucasus. This was a high-pressure role during the onset of World War I, requiring him to navigate the collapse of the Russian Empire and the rise of the Bolsheviks.
- Post-Revolution — Leningrad: His final diplomatic post was as Ambassador to Leningrad (formerly St. Petersburg). Being sent back to the city under Soviet rule as an Ambassador shows he was one of the few veterans trusted to manage the new, complex relationship with the USSR.
Between his foreign missions, he was a key figure in stabilizing the Iranian interior during the rise of Reza Shah.
- Governor of Bojnourd & Quchan: He managed these strategic border districts, which were often prone to tribal unrest. His presence brought the weight of the central government to the periphery.
- Justice Leader (Bojnourd): As a judge, he helped implement the early 20th-century legal reforms, transitioning local disputes from traditional tribal mediation to a formal state judicial process.
In the 20th-century context, your great-grandfather was the embodiment of the "Technocrat-Statesman." * In Diplomacy: He was the bridge between the old Qajar court and the modern world, serving in Russia during its most violent transformations (1905 and 1917 Revolutions).
- In Governance: He was a "Law and Order" figure who used his title Momtahen-ol-Molk (The Proven of the Realm) to signify that he was a modern professional, not just a hereditary noble.
| Year (AH/AD) | Position | Location |
|---|---|---|
| 1868 (1285 AH) | Born | Jajarm, Iran |
| 1314 AH | Attaché | St. Petersburg, Russia |
| 1319 AH | Consul | Batumi, Georgia |
| 1325 AH | Governor | Bojnourd, Iran |
| Late Career | Ambassador | Leningrad, Soviet Union |
Aliyar Fakhran, nicknamed Mirza Agha Khan Mumtahn-ol-Molk, was born in Jajarm (a district of Bojnord, now a city) in 1285 AH (1868 AD). He was educated at the Dar al-Fonon School in Tehran and the Muslim Higher School in Tbilisi.
They had one daughter and four sons. Their eldest son, Bagher Khan Fakhran, studied at Dar al-Fonun School and died at the age of twenty-seven. Queen Malikeh Fakhran is Bagher Khan's daughter.
I was unable to find specific digitized diplomatic records for Mirza Agha Khan Momtahen-ol-Molk Aliyar Fakhran's exact tenure in Leningrad through general public archives, as these are often held in the restricted Archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Tehran or Russian diplomatic archives.
However, based on the historical context of the Iranian Embassy in the Soviet Union during the early 20th century, we can reconstruct the environment in which he operated:
Before the capital moved to Moscow, the Iranian Embassy in St. Petersburg (later Leningrad) was the crown jewel of Iran's diplomatic missions.
- The "Kargozar" System: Your ancestor's nickname, "Kargozar," refers to the specialized branch of the Foreign Ministry that handled legal and commercial affairs for Iranians abroad. As a Consul in Batumi and later an Ambassador, he would have been the primary protector of Iranian merchants and citizens in the Caucasus and Russia.
- Diplomatic Transition: Serving as Sefir Kabir (Great Ambassador) in Leningrad during the early Soviet period was a high-stakes role. He would have navigated the transition from the Tsarist regime to the Bolshevik government, managing the complex "Treaty of Friendship" (1921) which reshaped Iran-Soviet relations.
His education at Dar al-Fonun is significant. This school was the breeding ground for the "New Men" of Iran—intellectuals who moved away from purely religious education toward secular statecraft. This explains why he was chosen for the "Momtahen-ol-Molk" (Examiner of the Realm) title; he was part of the first generation of scientifically and linguistically trained bureaucrats.
His appointments as Governor of Bojnourd and Head of Justice were likely due to his family's deep roots in the Khorasan region. In the late Qajar and early Pahlavi periods, local prominent figures with international experience were often sent back to their home regions to modernize local governance and secure the borders.
- National Archives of Iran: If you are looking for his specific correspondence, the Sazman-e Asnad-e Melli (National Archives) in Tehran holds the "Kargozari" files which would contain his reports from Batumi and Leningrad.
Here is a more focused look at the diplomatic environment and the specific challenges Mirza Agha Khan Momtahen-ol-Molk Aliyar Fakhran would have faced during his tenure as Sefir Kabir (Ambassador) in Leningrad.
By the time your great-grandfather was serving in the early 20th century, the Iranian mission in Leningrad (the former St. Petersburg) was one of the most sensitive posts in the world.
- Navigating the Bolshevik Rise: He served during a period where the Russian Empire collapsed and the Soviet Union emerged. As a diplomat, he had to maintain Iranian interests while the very government he was accredited to was being completely restructured.
- The 1921 Treaty of Friendship: This was a landmark event for any Iranian diplomat in Russia at the time. The treaty cancelled all Tsarist debts and concessions, but it also introduced "Article 6," which gave the Soviets a pretext to intervene if they felt threatened by a third party on Iranian soil—a point of contention for decades.
His nickname/title "Kargozar" is a specific technical term in the Iranian Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA).
- Legal Oversight: As a Kargozar, he wasn't just a political representative; he acted as a high-level magistrate. In cities like Batumi and Leningrad, he was responsible for the legal protection of thousands of Iranian merchants and workers.
- Trade and Transit: Since Batumi was a major gateway for Caucasian oil and trade, his role there likely involved heavy negotiation over customs and the safety of Iranian caravans.
His education at Dar al-Fonun and in Tbilisi placed him in a very small circle of "Westernized" Iranian officials.
- Multilingualism: To be the Ambassador in Leningrad, he would have been fluent in Russian, French (the language of international diplomacy then), and likely Turkic dialects (given his time in Tbilisi and Batumi).
- The "Momtahen" Legacy: This title suggests he was part of the group tasked with "examining" or modernizing the state. Men with this title were often the architects of the new Iranian bureaucracy that replaced the old, disorganized Qajar systems.
If you wish to pursue deeper academic or archival research, these are the specific files you should look for:
| Archive | Department/File Name |
|---|---|
| Iran MFA Archives (Tehran) | Kargozari-ye Batum (Consulate of Batumi) and Sefarat-e Leningrad (Leningrad Embassy) files. |
| Russian State Archive (RGIA) | Diplomatic correspondence between the Persian Mission and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MID). |
| Institute for Iranian Contemporary Historical Studies (IICHS) | Look for "Fakhran" or "Aliyar" in their photographic and biographical database. |
Mirza Aga Khan Mumtahn-ul-Mulk Aliyar Fakhran — During the Diplomatic Mission in Russia
Mirza Aga Khan Mumّدtahn-ul-Mulk Aliyar Fakhran — During the Diplomatic Mission in Russia
Aliyar Fakhran, nicknamed Mirza Agha Khan Mumtahn-ol-Molk, was born in the village of Jajarm (a part of Bojnord, now a city), in 1285 AH (1868 AD). He was educated at the Dar al-Fonon School in Tehran and the Higher Muslim School in Tbilisi.
They had one daughter and four sons. Their eldest son, Bagher Khan Fakhran, studied at Dar al-Fonun School and died at the age of twenty-seven. Queen Malikeh Fakhran is Bagher Khan's daughter.
Garmeh Jajarm is located in two cities, approximately 10 kilometers away from the Golestan Forest Road from Gorgan to Bojnourd. 50 years ago, several kilometers after the Golestan Forest on the right side of the Gorgan-Bojnourd road to Mashhad, there was a ruined historical castle that was an Achaemenid post with a history of several thousand years, with a history of 2500 years and a gas station a little later. A very beautiful road with sharp bends like the Chalus Road, flowing uphill, but with a very high accident rate leading to death due to the lack of visibility on the beautiful forest road and the lack of patience and tolerance of inexperienced and clumsy drivers who were turning at high speed in the bends of the road or with trees or with oncoming traffic, creating numerous and bloody tragedies that the author himself experienced, not in the Golestan Forest, but a few kilometers from Mashhad.
Once a dirt road, later a highway, later a two-lane asphalt road, and today it is probably a multi-lane highway. There were truck tracks on the desert, in the hills and mountains, which had deep ruts left by the rain, and from time to time there were multi-branched paths, one or two branches leading to a different path and several branches leading to the right path. Cars would maneuver between the heights of the ruts with special skill and choose the right path with a sense of direction until the pass ended and it was a desert, with multi-lane roads to the vicinity of Garmeh, and a through route from Garmeh's main street to the city square, and a beautiful route to Jajarm, which, like Amirkola attached to Babylon, had an old, defunct mill, and the cold water of the very old Sar spring, and green and beautiful trees with a fiery desert breeze that danced under the trees whose leaves danced to the tune of the wind and the sun. It was a rest and recreation area for the weekend or to relieve fatigue, picnic, and relax. The entrance to Jajarm was on the right side of the gendarmerie outpost, and the gendarmerie was a remnant of the Reza Shahi era with a French name and the order and order of the Russian Cossack brigades. The head of the outpost was mostly a white man and an assistant to the local white men, because Garmeh was the largest garage for truckers. Most of them either had several trucks or had rented them. Aalab was a hunter and armed with all kinds of rifles and hunting weapons and Tabrizi hunting taqi and the famous grocer of Garmeh with his old war pocket and a stop where he could have fun and drink cool canada and head for Jajarm.
Jajarm was a village more vibrant and lively than Sangsar, and if every conceivable organization and office were not run by a Jajarmī, there would be several Jajarmīs in the government, and friends and acquaintances who all had distant and close family ties, and with one contact with a close family member, a relationship could be established and the impossible would be accomplished.
It is said that Jajarm was founded several thousand years ago and there is a clay castle in the city that has a Jajarm coin with a date of 5000 years. Once the people were fed up with the heat at the foot of the mountain and started complaining and the government said that if Jajarm is cold then go to Garma because it is Garma and thus Garma was built on the slopes of the mountains and hills with a more moderate climate and again the people complained about the heat of Garma and the government said then go to Evar meaning that way and the foundation of Evar was laid and the last glory made the government fed up and they showed them Go to Darq and the foundation was laid.
"A thousand families" was an Iranian allusion to the Pahlavi court, but "thousands of thousands of families" were, and are, just a few examples of the relatives of the author of these lines.
Colonel Hassan Ghiyati, my second cousin, my American-educated friend and my love, had a consistent, patient, tolerant, humble personality but within a certain framework. When he was in Texas and the border of El Paso, he had two American cars, an Old Trafford and a Buick, and he played backgammon and backgammon, and he was a thorn in the Arabs' side during the USAF Air Force era, and in the eyes of the Arabs, he was a rich, ironic oil well owner who also had a rented house for the organization and a rented house and during the maintenance period, I don't know what he saw, but he went to see the Imam, and when he became a colonel, he finished his honest service and was the center of gravity of peace, reason, and speech. Uncle Hassan brought me a set of jeans and a western cowboy hat from America, and I was a jean vest that my late uncle fell from a horse and broke his neck. I have never seen or known Uncle Hassan riding red silicate in the Golestan forest like lightning and wind. He did not come and go, but I had many uncles and aunts and hundreds of lives and loved ones. Aunts' daughters were aunts, Aunts of father and mother, Aunts' daughters, Aunt Sahra, Dear Aunt, Aunt Tayyaba, Aunt Tayyaba, the first daughter of my maternal grandfather, Hajj Mohammad Taghi Dama'anian, was Aunt Jun, and her sister Shah Bibi Ismaili was Aunt Jun's mother, because I, the second grandson, came to speak earlier than Koresh, whose father was an accountant at the American accounting firm Coopers, like Deloitte or Ernst & Young today. Later, he became a truck spare parts salesman in Zanjan, and Koresh and Kian became Pahlavi's Mustafa, who, when Babylon arrived, cried at the sound of the shouts and shouts of Allahu Akbar and opened his mouth to complain that I was so afraid of Allahu Akbar, and my uncle changed my face, the stubble of my beard turned into a Kermani face, he himself consoled him with laughter and sarcasm, but the child was right. Aunt Tahereh, except for her romantic biting, her sharp tongue, and her constant debt to Manouchehr, was my love, and if Maryam hadn't pulled the glass from Mom's arm in the car, my sister Eldang would be a stone in Behesht Zahra's chest today, because...
When we left Tehran, our hearts were beating like a bride, her ice was melting, and the forest around Quchan, which we passed, was covered with mud. The Quchan flood was a story for the bad, what unstable people, that Mom and Maryam only stayed for a short time and left Tehran, and when the flood came, I was there, and Dad and the Imperial Gendarmerie, and the Gendarmerie Commander became our host, while Dad and I were stuck in a bank, and a Russian bomb hit us. Before the flood broke the wooden door, we jumped out of the wooden window on the second floor into the bomb and hit the water. I was making love in the back of an army truck that was not afraid of the flood, and the beautiful and kind daughter of the regiment commander gave me her sister's bicycle and we went cycling in the military organization town, which was prepared by Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi.
The silent deer became the silent donkey, and for a few years, my mother would call me at home; because the accident happened at the corner, "Oh Imam Reza, I want my son from you, and because I was a demon, I was a jinn, but I was in the morning, and Reza and Rozat didn't fit my blood type, I was always a yabi, and I was a complainer for Persepolis fans, just as much as I sang Karim Khan for Esteghlal fans. When Rasa said Canada, I said, "El Sosula," whatever you do abroad, Varamin, Lash, and Lush, the driver's apprentice, the gate is empty for Persepolis fans. May you be happy, Coca is Lata's. May you be happy, but Lasha's is Lata's. Don't tell anyone. Gogury, you left me, so why didn't you piss on me?
It's a sure thing to do if the local chocolate bar is a latte.
The conservative Mammad Quchani on the Mashhad road with his gray youth arrow was not a servant of God and was showing me the flowers of the Imam Reza shrine when a Fiat was in reverse on the center line and Mamli Bella took a curve as if he had an M5 on the F-track. The driver himself was a bull and slammed on the brake pedal without ABS. At a speed of one hundred and sixty, the poor Duff truck in front of him pulled into the dirt and stopped. We did a half-turn from the front fender to the rear fender like a piece of chewing gum that had been thrown hard into the wall. It stuck to the bumper of the Duff truck, which he then bought with Asadi. After the driver's voice, Soghra's cousin changed the driver to a rented blue Benz. After the driver's voice, they changed it to a two-door truck. He bought a blue Benz for rent on the Babol-Amol line. How beautiful was Uber Block? She was a doll, and Rasa was also handsome. She wore a three-button Hawaiian shirt with wool and a cocoon without a van. I was obsessed with her style, oh my gosh. In short, I went under the chair, Zabel Khan, but my head still needed 5 stitches and I coughed for two weeks with a glass of wine. I went to the Mashhad hospital ward with Dr. Pafak Namaki to see the sick and Uncle Manouchehr, who was also the center of operations and psychological warfare information, who made my aunt and the others snort with Asmon, knitting yarn, Uncle Ali, who was looking for his own gypsy girl, with Uncle Hossein, the doctor, who either fainted or had an incomplete stroke, Uncle Atish, a broken-hearted Croatian accountant, the inspector of Coopers, who gave Mamed Khordo the ninety minutes to not faint and see us that at least we didn't die. Mom wants a little paint correction. The cow's eye was closed for six months with a catheter and a tight bandage, and Aunt Ain was around my mom in the comings and goings, and Uncle Six, his ancestors were going from grave to grave, but Mamed Kharflan went to the palace. I still don't know, Aunt Cheza, don't snort, Dad, but well, as I said, and don't give her to her mother, her husband, so what's the point? He eats and why did I get married? I had just taught him to be a piece of me. He wasn't in vain for me. Mustafa, may God forgive him. He would say in the morning, the World Cup, the Olympics, the World Cup, how many rounds are there? I have to go ahead and honk. Mahsam would say, "Take your time, Dad. But this uncle has messed up the IQ of the family. Now he has a husband and a child, Parvaneh, and his grandson, and his son-in-law, Ta'ari, is still a student and is studying. Mustafa is also under a pile of dirt like Navid and the rest of his dear friends. 60,000 Iranians, 5 million Syrians, 60,000 in Gaza, and here and there, I've lost count. .
Mom's ribs were broken and she was joking, "Oh my God, you tried to kill me, but you couldn't."
We were supposed to bring Mom to Alborz, Tehran, and my uncle arranged it. When they brought the car to the parking lot of Mashhad Hospital, people were asking with regret, "Wow, how many people died in this accident?" I was giving a wonderful class when the back pillar, which was bloody, cut my head and I was coughing and coughing. With a clear explanation, half of the roof was crumpled, and I showed it to the front of the student's side that my mom had broken her ribs and was moaning and unable to breathe. The child was crying a lot, but Dad did nothing. But today I'm telling you, the stupid porter didn't understand, he gave everyone a shit, the donkey porter.
At Mashhad Airport, my mom was in a wheelchair and I was next to her. We got out of the car behind her and with a smile, she gave us a very beautiful seat. We boarded a 747 with a General Electric engine, which I became the architect of its separation from General Electric. We boarded the King's plane and headed for Tehran, and tears were streaming down my face.
Last night, my little finger on my left foot hurt and then burned. In short, I found a burn gel and an antibiotic in my first aid backpack. I applied it and applied cream, and in the morning, the blister was gone. God knows how. I put on my slippers and went outside to have the room cleaned. This is a newbie, but half of it is seasonal. I came a mile to Highland to sit somewhere, get some science, tell a story, and get some fresh air, and see how it is to use a computer on a mobile phone. It's better than a desktop computer on Persian.
It got cold, I went for a walk and I met an acquaintance and I met the agent and I gave him a quick branding about the war and I went back to sit down and write. His friend found me and asked what was going on, then he asked if there was any news about LA, what I told you about LA and the ironies, I had also asked about Perplexity, in short, I handed it to him that this is a terrorist fundraising, hello, no, and there is no credible threat. Many people in California want to blow up many things, but they wanted one thing, they were able to do one thing, and they are not reporting any news about Iran, the newborn, Five Eyes, and the factions of KGB, MIA, 5 and 6.
Then he asked AIG and I said, "Many people want it, but I and people like me don't know. Be patient, bro." He laughed and went to a kid selling tickets at TLC to keep his head above water.
In Mehrabad, Uncle Doctor Dawam came running and sat down and put his head on Mom's feet. He put his beloved's two legs on his feet and thought that Mahboubeh was paralyzed, but Mahboubeh played tennis and was relieved. After a lot of hardship, after a few years of fighting diabetes and Forough Jun, Aunt Farzaneh's sister, the wife of Uncle Ahmad Astarabadi, who was also a pharmacist, passed away. In the little Paris of Khorasan, or Bojnourdi, whose governor's agent was Colonel Dadras, the head of the gendarmerie, and Mr. Kalali, the head of the registry office, and it's interesting that my grandfather was also the head of the registry office of Jajarm. And my father had a stroke this year, his father's year. His mother, Sakineh Sultan, the daughter of the agent, didn't know which poor blind bald man would take Mahboubeh's broken heart and curse her to be the fate of the desert wolf and the fate of the deer on the street. They would escort the Keshari Bank with two desert deer and bring them back. When I left Babolsar for a business trip with the driver, I found a deer with a deer. We were coming to another desert. He pulled over to the side of the road and said to his boss, Mr. Fakhran, I can't do several difficult tasks at the same time. I have to pay attention to the road. Listen to you. Translate it into Turkish. I will answer it in Persian. The truck is coming around a bend in their stomachs. Broken stones and bricks are pouring down from the mountain. The weather is cloudy, or it is hailing or raining. I said, "What are bricks doing on the mountain?" He said, "Mr. Bamdad, you know what I'm saying." As Aunt Mahin Akhvin used to say to my father, "You are a villager, so understanding, so wise, so intelligent."
We went to Alborz once, when Dr. Akhvait was the founder and Dr. Fakhran Parsons were there until Aunt Tahere arrived. From the guard at the door to the nurse and the doctor himself, he washed the last of the clothes and left. There was a line between Manouchehr Elahi and Elahi, except for the liver, Elahi, you will be torn to pieces, my beloved father, you have an accident, you say, going to the shrine, going to Vakilabad for a visit, and who could be an opponent to Auntie? Auntie came and said, "Run, run, Khan Sheikh Baha'i and Auntie Khanum Sheikh Baha'i, and our pain is incurable. Where have you been until now?" And Auntie Parso was upset when they gave up hope on Maryam.
Dad passed away last year, then Aunt Tahereh slept at night and ended up in the emergency room or on the way, then Uncle Dr., then Mom. I was in the GE, doing risk management and swindling and poisoning, and I had a green card to be Iranian, and I didn't go to hell, and it was a good thing because I wasn't in the mood to do all this work and go back and forth like a madman when there were hundreds of Cloud accounts and me and a whole army of us, confused and fooled. This one wants this, that one doesn't know what he wants, but he knows he's a great guy. I had 4 teams competing, and the winning team 🏆 was the team that came to me as the director of cyber team, the winner was Lockheed Martin's SIS. Oh my god, this broker's conscience, you were like that too, your voice in your mouth is like a wise man looking at a fool, asking, "Why are you?"
Officials and positions of Aliyar Fakhran, nicknamed Mirza Aga Khan Mumtahan-ul-Molk, according to the genealogy:
Family tree of Mirza Aga Khan Mumtah al-Molk
- Entering the service of the government against and representing Jajarm (1300 AH / 1882 AD)
- Deputy Governor of Jajarm (1303 AH / 1885 AD)
- Received a scientific medal (1305 Sh. / 1887 AD)
- Membership in the Consulate General of Tbilisi and its administrative office (1308/1890 AD)
- Attaché of the Petersburg Embassy (1314 AH / 1896 AD)
- Lion and Sun Emblem (1314 AH / 1896 AD)
- Title of Khan (1314 AH / 1896 AD)
- Lion and Sun emblem renewed (1315 AH / 1897 AD)
- Deputy Ambassador of Petersburg (1316 AH / 1898 AD)
- Colonel's badge and shield (1318 AH / 1900 AD)
- Third-class Majidi Order from the Ottoman Empire (1318 AH / 1900 AD)
- Order of Stanislav, 3rd degree, from the government of Tsarist Russia (1318 AH / 1900 AD)
- Medal of Isabella the Catholic from the Spanish government (1319 A.D. / 1901 AD)
Mirza Aga Khan Mumtah al-Mulk — after receiving the Order of Isabel the Catholic from the Spanish government (1319 AH / 1901 AD)
- Consulate of Batum (1319 AH / 1901 AD)
- Quchan Brokerage (1323/1905 AD)
- Batumi Consulate (date torn in genealogy)
- Bojnourd Brokerage (1325/1907 AD)
- Bojnourd Justice Department, 3rd of Safar (1328 AH / 1910 AD)
- Kalat and Dargaz Brokerage, 26 Sha'ban (1329 AH / 1911 AD)
- Consulate of the Caucasus (1333/1914 AD)
His last position was the Grand Ambassador of Iran to Leningrad, Soviet Union.
Mirza Aga Khan Mumtahan-ul-Mulk — Full-length
Mirza Aga Khan Mumtah-ul-Mulk — Diplomatic, European Mission Period
Mirza Aga Khan Mumtahan-ul-Mulk — At the place of service
Mirza Aga Khan Mumtah-ul-Mulk — Portrait
| Old term | Modern equivalent |
|---|---|
| Entry into service | Entry into government service |
| Viceroy | Deputy Governor |
| Consulate | Consulate |
| Attaché | Attaché (military or diplomatic) |
| Deputy Head of Embassy | First Deputy Head of Embassy |
| Broker / Brokerage | Governor / Governorship |
| Justice | Justice |
| Presidency of Justice | Presidency of Justice |
| Ambassador-at-Large | Ambassador Plenipotentiary — Official representative of the host government with full powers, including declarations of war and peace |
I was a child. At that time, Dariush was the manager of the Epicure restaurant in Tehran. He had very beautiful handwriting, he wrote with both hands and drew paintings that were on par with the works of the greats of this art.
Once, my father and I went to see Dariush. He described the clerk as having just plastered and whitewashed the walls of the courtyard, and Dariush, the devil and lover of calligraphy, was writing something on the wall with charcoal when suddenly the clerk arrived. Dariush said, “He twisted my ear so much that I got up from the ground and it still hurts!” After he finished reprimanding and scolding, he looked at the writing on the wall and said, “You have beautiful handwriting!” Then he gave him a substantial toman, or coin, as a reward. Such was his morality; discipline, encouragement, and punishment in their proper place.
My father used to tell me that when the table was being laid, the waiter would go and sit at the head of the table and ask each child: “Whose child are you? Who is your father? Who is your grandfather? Why are you sitting there? Go to the door, or go two steps down, or come up!” No one dared to start eating, so as not to insult everyone based on their grandfather’s nicknames and titles. Now imagine how strict he was with his own grandson and the children at the table, who were treated like this. My father's discipline and discipline had gone to the office, but a lot of it had gone to the office. We were building a building, and the concrete was supposed to be poured in half an hour. He would collect my cigarette butts and then say, "This building doesn't have a single cigarette butt in it." My Afghan workers and I would laugh when one day we would put a few cigarette butts in the mortar, plaster, and mortar. A few of them would stick out of the whitewash. We dug them up and fixed them. Dad came and asked why I had covered the wall with a stain. The others, like sheep, said, "Yes, sir, they're right." He was doing his job, and I was pouring my own. There was also a pear skeleton. One Thursday, we were going to the tulip garden. Two classy ladies from Goguryeo were standing at the bottom of Saadi's head. Then the lines, my pear father, said, "Son, give these ladies a ride too. I'm guilty." I said in a strained tone, "The ladies are waiting. They're going to go in a Goguryeo car." My father said, "What's wrong with our Benz?" I said to myself, "Let's laugh at a joke." You jumped and said hello with a smile. Where are you going? Jigra also went straight. The main point of the story was that I gathered it up. I'm going to the shop in the tulip field with my father. Where are you going? I'll meet you on the way. He pulled my cheek. You naughty one. You're playing with your father. Dad said, "What's playing with your father?" I said, "In your hot mood." The other one flirted and said, "Your father is good at hitting himself on the back of the mountain. He just fell off his horse. We got off. Then when I said that, he didn't say anything. He said, "I didn't know." I said, "You're from the countryside. You didn't come from behind the mountain." He said, "I'm not a lady." I said, "Oh, my gosh. I've never given you money before. I'm a virgin. I still got a gift. The other side was in need. Then ask Hajj Agha Salehi. How many people have you brought so far this morning and ordered him to fix things for them? And Mehdi is going to visit them. Hajj is also sending them to the right place." He said, "So tell me, you and Mehdi, don't you have a wife?" I said, "Oh, Dad, don't worry, our donkey has already had its eggs pulled out of the ground." Kilo said why did I say half a kilo then how many kilos yes I was also when I was getting caught it was six-packs that Gagool you tell me don't go in the alley you'll get ruined don't go yourself am I a village kid like you I myself don't have a hundred big guys to play against friends instead of us from their stupidity. Maybe his order and discipline has gone Gagool his games haven't gone to the broker, I don't know why I hope but Reza Shah I wouldn't hire Gagool and he would be a jerk his head would be in the wind if his lineage hadn't gone to hell but why me myself; I have inherited a sharp and biting tongue for high-ranking and sensitive work.
Whether in Iran, where I was a private consultant for the installation and commissioning of factories, repair and troubleshooting of production lines, CNC machines, computers and electricity, or in the field of software and networks. Or in America, where I held sensitive positions and network architecture in companies ranging from Morgan Stanley and Verizon and Apple to General Electric, which now, if I want to express them, I have to translate them to see what their Persian equivalents are. Of course, I apologize, I did not know the Persian of these terms and they were not useful to me, because I learned these skills in English and did my work in English.
I don't remember, I bought a book called "Operational Amplifiers: Catch and Kill"! (Which they meant push-pull), or the word "seesaw" which they translated for Flip-Flop! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I gave it to him and read his English reference for the end of my semester.
My language was always good and of course long! When I was about to come to America, the consul told me: "Your language is good too." I said: "I know it's long! But I think my accent and pronunciation are terrible, because I learned English by reading, not listening and speaking." My only practice was with a dictionary. Remember, there was a thing called a dictionary in the old days, which was a kind of indexed book; now it seems like no one knows what a dictionary is and...
Unfortunately, my memories of this great grandfather end with just a few names and surnames, the story of the rider's daughter, Dariush's calligraphy, and the children's scribbling at the table.
My dear father was not a thief, he did not steal from people, he did not listen to them, he did not speak harshly to the poor, he did not care about people's honor, but the honor of his niece, nephew, family, friend, and acquaintance, his cousin's wife, the tyrant, the modern, the Hezbollah, the believer, and the Muhhabah, was no different. Kissing and kissing was always in its place, he was always on the lips of women and the daughters of women. With this revelation, women are gentle and I am more comfortable with women and it was flirting. He had not stopped kissing and kissing to the point where my cousins were holding hands and Ahmad said that uncle had not gone to Mecca, he had not gone, he would touch and rub our vaginas, now that he was old enough to do so, he would not let me go. I smiled and said loudly from the top of the assembly, in the Khans' house, like eighteen years old, "Oh my God, do not kill your wives, what kind of flower does he want to take care of me?" Ahmad also bowed his head, uncle, you can rest easy, that Abbas is a Hezbollah member, and his cousin. Tahereh was going out and I was also saying, "I beg for God." My father, you are a man who goes to the door and the neighbor and the neighbor's daughter, or the flower in the flowerpot itself. My mother is also an accountant. I haven't seen you buy it for years. Ahmad was also a lion. Uncle Han's wife, Uncle Han, with this heater that is working here, there is no heater left in the house. The lady is also a fool and a fool. Uncle used to warm the assembly, but except for the food, he either didn't offer it or it was held for fun and jokes. My partner in crime was my aunt, Asadi's wife, my father, who was burned, and my aunt, Fati, the wife of Mr. Reza Asadi, the dishonorable one who ran over her with a truck. Mr. Reza also scratched her. You bought a shop. Laleh Zar, a new one. Dad gave me cash. Mr. Reza. You bought a credit card. Later, when I was looking through the office one day, I saw that so-and-so had one and a half million from the money in the shop or brought it. Dad borrowed a hundred thousand tomans a month and gave a check to a good bank. The market has interest and is going down. One and a half million. 5% interest is 75 thousand tomans a month. The compound would be 50,000 tomans, so you would be paying 100 tomans a month in installments. Did you think I was a donkey or did you think I was a thief?
Then I told my father that I would file a lawsuit, that I would also throw a party, that I would have a copy of the book, that I would buy it or sell it. In short, it all went up and up and up. I bought a million and sold it to Uncle Manouchehr, and he also took it down, because I was not a partner. I lent him money with interest or a loan. Then we became partners with Mr. Narozi, and in the end it went bankrupt due to the decline and high profits and low income.
He came and brought a piece of paper, "Baba, don't read this, sign it, I won't do it either." I said, "Baba, don't read it, I gave you something, don't sign it." And there was a fight, I wanted to put the shop in your name. I said, "Hey, where's the money and the money?" With bitter meat, I got a quarter, my share was a quarter, my share was his, the rest was in equal proportions, mom and Mary. In the end, I said, "Al," he said without thinking, "But he did his own thing and did his own thing." My argument was, "Baba, burn your pears, mine are mine, my son, I have the right to collect your money, it's mom and Mary's, why did you give it to the cow? Mom and Mary are on my side, dad, I'm going to hell."
Mr. X-Large had donated land to the telecommunications company. A few years later, the tax office complained that you had not paid the tax. You were giving it to me without any money and debt. I also gave the land to the government. Now, God will pay the tax. Take back your land. Do you want to give it? Don't pay the tax? Wouldn't it be a shame to go to hell? I saw this method, I was his son, and I was burning it and building it. It was amazing. One morning, a smart college student called me a genius. I didn't know who he was talking about. I myself have never praised myself that much, but I was a web donkey. For myself, I was a university professor in my second year of college. I taught the basics and principles of programming and mathematical calculations and the formula for sine, cosine, tangent, and cotangent. The lessons were endless. The infinity you drew is not infinite, so I had to limit it. So I had to limit it. Autolisp and Automated introductory structural accounting for the second year. I was teaching architecture graduate students, and Auto Lisp would generate ten thousand lines of code, and they would say, "What's wrong, mother?" I would print out every hundred or so lines, so that I could have the code in my hand and look for errors in the last few lines, not several thousand lines.
I was the head of the German hall at the oil exhibition, then the head of the exhibition's general staff. When the bell rang and Rafsanjani came, I would visit the IRGC General Staff for advice. The IRGC's voice or IP was not working. My intelligence satellites were free consultants. They didn't pay me, and it wasn't useful. But I was in a bad mood. It wasn't smelly. And because it wasn't smelly, I would either give them the wrong direction or say it wasn't me.
I was doing research for Mustafa under the cover of the Zaheda Recovery Headquarters. I bought an American metal detector and a hole finder for the office. Then they brought it to Iran. Motahari's office did reverse engineering and made and sold the Persian catalog of Movelte Media. I also called Mustafa, who didn't do it, and he didn't pay, but I loved him. He was a smuggler, a fat worker, and a friend of a bunch of prostitutes. When he got lost and buried, two people kept track of him. One was his wife, Parvaneh. The other was me. Parvaneh would call me in the morning. You don't know about Mustafa. I must have gone to that one's house. If he had any of these offers, it would be good. I don't have them. I want to arrange a marriage contract for him. Why not? Mom, Dad, it's good. Negin came. Except for Babak and Kalili and Maryam's friends, Mustafa was the only one we went to see. And for his daughters, he brought one each while the Americans were gone. And Mehla and Mona were holding hands with Mustafa. It was good, uncle. Good morning. People count on you, otherwise you won't be of any use. She was in love and started to get all excited. She was wearing her hajj, she would run and come and go and hide. I don't just take Mahsa and Mona, I'm not an alcoholic uncle. Just a kiss, a hug, Mahla. Mahsa laughed. My dear uncle, in the morning, this Islam tied our hands and wings. By God, your father's hands and wings not only tied us, but also asked for forgiveness from Allah. And this butterfly in the morning, my heart won't let me go home.
Katayoun Riahi didn't give a damn when she saw that her head was on Negin's leg from the beginning of the night until the middle of Alireza and Simin's party, and Negin was playing with Kati's hair. And since I saw her posts, Kati has become even more dear to me, and there are many like her.
Mustafa and Ehtesham Qanbari were examples of good guys who would knock on every door to get their affairs in order. When he left, he had a mine and a debt from this and a hundred transactions with him. If the creditor had refused, no one would be found to say, "I owed Mustafa two thousand." Or, "I'm a martyr," they would say, "This unfortunate man who was in the chemical front and had been on the brakes for a long time. This is your thirty-something son and his children. What about those who went to university, got scholarships, built factories and properties, and built free houses, and drove Benzes, BMWs, and Maseratis, and had villas worth billions in Velingrad and Lavason? Or, like the Duttons, they would go to a baguette shop and buy a hammam, and spend a lot of money, and start a gang, or they would gang up on these people's asses and they would jump on me because I was a single man and they would give me their Opels and tell me to bring a woman. I used to say, "It doesn't count as a bribe for a friend and comrade," but it did count because... Just as they came, they suddenly disappeared and there was no news of them because they had nothing else to do. But Mehdi Taba, the grandson of Tayyeb Haj Rezaei, was not like that. Mehdi Lavoli ate with everyone, his bottle was clean, Saeed played with lizards and his nosy were not Navid, who was a child in the skin of a gorilla, and four months after Haji Mammad Abgar died, I think he died and could not bear Haji's death. Vahid also drowned in a swimming pool in Germany and had his spinal cord severed. Once when I saw him in Iran, he came to three handsome German nurses. Well, he was German, and Mustafa, the soldier of Islam and the warrior of Islam, was like those same brothers of the Aslaat brothers who went to the signing of the resolution for the children and put a horn on every grave.
Ehsan was the brother of Saeed, Masoud, and Azam. The children of Mrs. Saeedian Gul, who made people's hearts burn when they were complimented. How could he go all the way to Oromia to see Saeed, Masoud, and Ehsan? And in the end, he ran so hard to show him Ehsan's grave and burial place, and even get the right to shoot him? She was a lioness. Engineer Mohammadian was a bank appraiser, a legal expert, and the man of her life. Mahdis is a specialist in women. Mahsa has become a woman for herself. You are against my advice. These are friends of Babylon. The same Babylon that Sarhi's brother was the head of her shop, and he beat his butcher, killed his classmate, and became a prostitute. The same Babylon that Leningrad had, and the same Leningrad that was the agent of the great ambassador in another time, another era. Mrs. Saeedian's workplace and bank were opposite the Tabaripour Mosque, where her daughter Adela became the wife of my son-in-law, and Sadeq, Baqir, and Jund, and I saw Larihani in the apartment and I didn't know him. I think Ali was there too, and I offered Haj Agha pizza. Kian is now in Canada, he has a master's degree in construction, and Toli has designed brake systems for Porsche and Arbash. I went to Saipa and Iran with Kian, and Kian told me that it was as if they were making a copper atomic bomb, designing the Paykan and Peugeot Zipper, which didn't require so many locks and keys, doors and security gates, and I knew that they were starting the missile industry. Saipa and Iran are cover companies and they manufacture parts for the defense industry and their storage, just like TVAM was, just like IBM in Pahlavi, called Iran, imported Sashin from Canada for the IBM brothers, or a dear friend in the capital imported Supermicro from America and went to Dubai and came to Iran, thousands of them, just like they bought Led, Compaq, and Sismo from Canada or through intermediaries, and a small amount of it came to the market, and the rest, the smuggler brothers got tired of it, even to Israel, and started manipulating it, and I made Stuxnet. My SSD drives and disks had viruses and I knew it, I just didn't know what kind of virus it was. Now I know.
Bahram Saadatfar and I were going to Isfahan to repair spinning machines that had a pulley, but the control was faulty and had a virus because it would make a noise and jam. We would take a bus from the Abbasi Hotel to the good spinning machine. The spinning machine, which was not so far away, was the basis and source of centrifuges and controls, and the compartmentalization that the right hand does not know what the left hand is doing. Now that I was forced to tell the truth, did anyone believe me and I became a thief and a liar? My hand is not crooked, no matter what I do.
Forough Jun and Aunt Farzaneh Esfarayni were arrested in Bojnourd, Saeed, Shahab, Shahryar, Masoud, and Shahrokh. They arrested everyone from Mujahid to Fedayee. Shahryar and Shahrokh were handsome, arrogant, and arrogant. Saeed came and went to Karaj. The rest of them went to Canada and Australia. Mehrdad also became a cousin of Demeter. He became a bookseller in the revolution, a bookshop owner, a leftist, and a god of football information. Oh, how he got greedy at the hands of this donkey who only reported for a short while. He just realized that the game was between Italian clubs, not Spanish, and he was going to the desert of Karbala. Yes, when he came in a taxi in the morning, the organization was in short. Hawad Khiabani was once in a daisy shop, braying like a cow, half-half-half. I said, "Mr. Hawad, I am very sincere. Hawadi, I gave Mola a cup of coffee and he hit me on the left. Ali cleared his throat and swallowed. I said, "I am going to choke now." He took a drink and bowed and said, "Sir, thank you very much, this dog of his had the honor of being with him." Javad Kharihaini, an educated Mirza Amoli or Sadeq, has nothing to do with them.
When I was taken to the intelligence office, Shapur, the one who blindfolded me from behind, kicked me gently in the leg. My childhood friend in Jajarm and my younger brother, Mr. Reza, was my aunt Fati's husband, who was in the intelligence of the IRGC. In Kashgark, I went to my father's lodge and volunteered to join the mini-barracks of the Guard in Kashgark. Then we found out that the commander of the party's guard and my father had a bandage on his head. When I was transferred, we were taking weapons and ammunition to Tabriz and Parchin by truck, and I was like an empty gesture of my husband's apprentice and a scarecrow with a clean head. I saw the Parchin depot where the army trailers had to return empty-handed and could not go through the Parchin gate. The children of the Guard and the IRGC were responsible for the rest of the transportation. When I was going to Lazgark, I saw both sides of the highway, from the IRGC and Intelligence headquarters to Jaharah, which were the depots and barracks of the Shah's defense and missile industries. Hawad Shofrei was his colonel.
My two cousins and my dear Forough Jun got leukemia and I fought with everyone at the Madison Foundation to take a positive step. It was very personal for me, but to this day I didn't say anything and no one knows. When I saw Forough Jun, weak and broken, in the hospital bed, he took off the scarf tied around her head and with his own sarcasm and humor, he said, "Look, Forough Jun, how deformed you have become." I said, "Your heart and soul are beautiful and beautiful." I was very heartbroken with Forough Jun. When I burst out when we left, he said, "I'm glad you came to see Forough Jun." I knew Houshang Ghaffari, the brother of Mohammad Ghaffari, the father of Ali Hamid Ghaffari, my high school classmates. He was a brother. He was the master of Mr. Habibi. He was the master of Mr. Ghaffari. Khan Valiullah Alamzad, whose nephew Zoya became the sister of Nima Sina, the thief, and a friend of Fab Parviz Lahimchi. He became the girlfriend and wife of Masoud Saeedian.
Two cousins and two aunts were victims of ass cancer, and the shame of Islam was that all my friends and comrades in the intelligence and organization were thrown out. When they said, "This way or that way," they wanted to go into smuggling everything and economic work to export the revolution, and the foundation of Shiite halal was laid, and for three years no one was heard from until I saw one of them in the tulip field and he hit me in the chest. People followed him. Then there was the sound of shooting and Mehdi dragged me into the market and put me in the water house and stood at the door like a wounded tiger. If anyone came, I think he would eat him. Then Mehdi told me what the story was.
The Islamic Republic made no distinction between insiders and outsiders in the distribution of poverty, misery, blood, bloodshed, and dishonor. As long as you were insiders, your bread was in oil. But if you had gone, your exit was your own doing. Your departure and your absence from the scribes were not mentioned. I still don't know if anyone is still alive, but with the statistics I have, I don't think it's likely that he is a lost and forgotten scumbag, and maybe one day I will find him. I don't remember his name or his address. It's like a dream, a nightmare that one doesn't like to remember and forgets. I remember his past, but his people weren't like Sayyid, Hahi, Mammad, and Tha'id, but his face, appearance, and special memories. Is my memory playing tricks on me or is it giving me a bad mood? Now, this is the first time that tears haven't welled up in my eyes.
I have said many times, jokingly and seriously, that we are software, hardware, and special animals. I wrote a poem about it, but contrary to its humorous and sly appearance, it is the absolute truth, like a good Indian, a dead Indian. There are good and bad Indians, good and bad cowboys, good and bad guards, good and bad allies, and in every class, class, ideology, and profession. Dad was always a friend, but without expecting a job or a relationship, death did not happen to me. When his beloved Donjo son went to the desert, he would find friends and acquaintances from under the rock. Not because of me, but because of his sense of ownership, and I knew it too, and I was afraid of that. But when it came to me, work and cheese were good, blood enemies were friendly, neither I nor he, and we always had arguments. From the age of fifteen or sixteen, we were constantly in war, peace, and purgatory until the day he left. Maryam also had a bad habit and her mother drank the glass and inherited her father's sense of humanity. He is the model of Maricator. And I am also a dear, loving, genius, my dear brother and the most ignorant person in the world. He won't accept it and won't do it. The problem is not mine, it's his. I have no argument. Dr. Shirazi says, "I have several personalities. The Van Nuys court has to go to class. I'm not going to tell you how many personalities I have. I have infinite personalities. I am my mirror. I am ruthless. I am ruthless. I am kind. I am kinder. I am better. I am a prick. I respect your mother, but in the end I don't like it and I forgive her and I say it's not worth the trouble. And in the end, I find an excuse to not worry. I could kill someone but I didn't. I haven't gotten into a fight with anyone in forty years. I either said, 'Excuse me,' or I passed by, and I passed by like a step you're passing by. Except for my sister and my father, who I still haven't gotten even with, I know that the end result is a lot of shit, and Maryam was the same way. I couldn't break all these giant horns and get fired and get a bigger job and more pay and heavier responsibility. I couldn't find a single donkey. Give me something once. Tell me this line, this stick, this line, this web, we'll do it, you idiot. If you take a wrong step, I went to a meeting for half an hour and said, "No, it can't be done." And finally, I said, "When will the final decision be made?" I said, "You pineapple, you hai, you hai, you iron, you ohoni," I said, "It's simple. Changing the network and software with a big explosion. No. Changes and changes in production when several other customers are involved in this change are very serious on Friday. Then, on Monday, the five freezes asked me why I came so late and said, 'We'll go before morning.' He said, 'Okay, they said, 'We changed everything you said.' I said, 'If you had come to your senses and had made a mistake, I shouldn't have said, 'You should have done it yourself.' Or, 'You've lost your mind.' Or, 'What did you say?' You said, 'Excuse me,' go. If they said, 'Okay,' here I am, I guarantee you with the changes and restrictions that I requested. I will review it once this weekend. I will guarantee you that my boss will say, 'Okay,' you ask me. No. I went to Kab Kab and he said, 'It's not possible to send an email without thinking.' His opinion in the morning is closer to our five edoraizo. Forgive us. We didn't have time to go to Korea. We'll take a break at New Year's. We'll collect the pending work until after the freeze.
I have never been forced in my life, but the force was strong and the consequences were severe. I bowed down and did not make a fuss. The man's words are the same. Children, friends and colleagues, always tell me, "You are so simple, you say sorry and apologize, it doesn't suit you. What a bowl under half a bowl is not a bowl. Research shows that even gorillas change their beliefs in the face of recent evidence. I am no less than a gorilla. Navid was not one of those gorillas. There was another model, and in the end it became full.
My father used to tell me that when the table was being laid, the waiter would go and sit at the head of the table and ask each child: “Whose child are you? Who is your father? Who is your grandfather? Why are you sitting there? Go to the door, or go two steps down, or come up!” No one dared to start eating, so as not to insult everyone based on their grandfather’s nicknames and titles. Now imagine how strict he was with his own grandson and the children at the table, who were treated like this. My father's discipline and discipline had gone to the office, but a lot of it had gone to the office. We were building a building, and the concrete was supposed to be poured in half an hour. He would collect my cigarette butts and then say, "This building doesn't have a single cigarette butt in it." My Afghan workers and I would laugh when one day we would put a few cigarette butts in the mortar, plaster, and mortar. A few of them would stick out of the whitewash. We dug them up and fixed them. Dad came and asked why I had covered the wall with a stain. The others, like sheep, said, "Yes, sir, they're right." He was doing his job, and I was pouring my own. There was also a pear skeleton. One Thursday, we were going to the tulip garden. Two classy ladies from Goguryeo were standing at the bottom of Saadi's head. Then the lines, my pear father, said, "Son, give these ladies a ride too. I'm guilty." I said in a strained tone, "The ladies are waiting. They're going to go in a Goguryeo car." My father said, "What's wrong with our Benz?" I said to myself, "Let's laugh at a joke." You jumped and said hello with a smile. Where are you going? Jigra also went straight. The main point of the story was that I gathered it up. I'm going to the shop in the tulip field with my father. Where are you going? I'll meet you on the way. He pulled my cheek. You naughty one. You're playing with your father. Dad said, "What's playing with your father?" I said, "In your hot mood." The other one flirted and said, "Your father is good at hitting himself on the back of the mountain. He just fell off his horse. We got off. Then when I said that, he didn't say anything. He said, "I didn't know." I said, "You're from the countryside. You didn't come from behind the mountain." He said, "I'm not a lady." I said, "Oh, my gosh. I've never given you money before. I'm a virgin. I still got a gift. The other side was in need. Then ask Hajj Agha Salehi. How many people have you brought so far this morning and ordered him to fix things for them? And Mehdi is going to visit them. Hajj is also sending them to the right place." He said, "So tell me, you and Mehdi, don't you have a wife?" I said, "Oh, Dad, don't worry, our donkey has already had its eggs pulled out of the ground." Kilo said why did I say half a kilo then how many kilos yes I was also when I was getting caught it was a six-bit coin that you gogol tell me don't go in the alley you'll get ruined don't go yourself am I a village kid like you I myself don't have a hundred big lottery players my opponents friends instead of us talk about their stupidity. Maybe the order and discipline has gone Gagool his games haven't gone to the broker, I don't know why I hope but I wouldn't hire Reza Shah Gagool and he would be a jerk if his lineage hadn't gone to hell but why me; I have inherited a sharp and biting tongue for high-level and sensitive work. Whether in Iran where I was a private consultant for installing and operating factories, repairing and troubleshooting production lines, CNC machines (CNC), computers and electricity, or in the field of software and networks. Whether in America or in companies ranging from Morgan Stanley to Verizon and Apple to General Electric, I held sensitive positions and network architectures, which now, if I want to express them, I have to translate them to see what their Persian equivalent would be.Of course, I'm sorry, I didn't know the Persian for these terms, nor did they apply to me, because I learned these skills in English and did my work in English.
I don't remember, I bought a book called "Operational Amplifiers: Catch and Kill"! (Which they meant push-pull), or the word "seesaw" which they translated for Flip-Flop! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I gave it to him and read his English reference for the end of my semester.
My language was always good and of course long! When I was about to come to America, the consul told me: "Your language is good too." I said: "I know it's long! But I think my accent and pronunciation are terrible, because I learned English by reading, not listening and speaking." My only practice was with a dictionary. Remember, there was a thing called a dictionary in the old days, which was a kind of indexed book; now it seems like no one knows what a dictionary is and...
Unfortunately, my memories of this great grandfather end with just a few names and surnames, the story of the rider's daughter, Dariush's calligraphy, and the children's scribbling at the table.
Family Tree and Links — Fakhran Family
"Fakhransara" was the name of Bahmanjoon's villa in the north, which also had a tennis court. The original building was very close to the water and was eventually washed away by the sea. Since the land was long, he built another one further away from the water. I didn't see the new villa and I don't know who owns it now or what happened to it. But the old one was very spacious, two stories, with a terrace on the top floor overlooking the Caspian Sea. I have very beautiful nights and happy memories of it. Sometimes we would get the key from Bahmanjoon — of course, there was no key, we would go to the caretaker, say hello, visit, have dinner and make him happy. We enjoyed Bahmanjoon's conversations. He was my father's cousin; my father called him "Mammadjan" and he "gave him" as well. I would call him "Bahmanjoon" as usual.
Bahmanjun had pride and dignity and was the court's special physician. Later, Dr. Ardebili came and others had different opinions, but Bahmanjun was a cardiologist and as a physician, he made no difference. It was not in the interest of Pars Sara to stay with the established regime, and I understood that well. He had no courtesy or pretensions, he spoke frankly, and his diagnosis was amazing.
Karim Khan was the son of a clerk. He had a practice in Jajarm and was a doctor. I have interesting memories of him; he was very sociable and eloquent. My father also had a heart for Karim Khan and his family. My wife, Zeenat Khan, was Karim Khan's wife. Since they were all Khans and Khans' sons, most of us addressed them as "Khan," but the patients, either out of stubbornness or indifference, would say "Mr. Doctor."
Afghans do not have diseases, but rather become besara. Two separate Persian-Dari names without any pretense. Dear Iranians, mar means health and besara means loss of health or lack of health. They speak very beautifully. I did not know that until I sat down and chatted with Afghan construction workers, and the caretaker of my trading firm, Laki Navid, opened new doors for me to the culture, customs, and forgotten subtleties of Persian-Dari.
My wife's cooking was amazing. Firuz was their eldest son and my friend and comrade in the factory—the same age as my cousins. Evil and evil aside; one night they had gone to a certain garden with Ahmad to steal some tomatoes. They had also taken a salt shaker to put in the red and green tomatoes and cucumbers! But no matter how hard they tried, these sons of the family could not climb over the door or jump into the garden. Ahmad also tried, chained his left hand to the garden door and pulled it with a jerk until the door opened. The next day, when he was sick, they took him to his father's garden—theft! What a subject he had become.
Let alone that the child Firuz had an unsuccessful marriage; he was kidnapped and I think they got married in an emotional or moral situation. Karim Khan and Zeenat Khanum rejected him. Mojgan was his patient rock and he was most upset with my father. “Mammadjan, Firuz... Al-Firouz... Bal-Faqrouz!” Firuz went to Mashhad and on the Mashhad-Quchan road, during one of these trips, he had an accident and died young — like my father’s older brother who was run over by a horse and died, and my father dropped out of school for two years.
Later, my father met Colonel Dadras — the head of the Mashhad and Bojnourd Gendarmerie Regiments during the revolution — and Dr. Asterabadi, a pharmacist. Dr. Asterabadi knew my doctor’s uncle, who was a pharmacist. Uncle Ahmad had taken Aunt Farzaneh. My father also became a benefactor and introduced Foroughjoon to my uncle, in the villas of the former Keshavarzi Bank — the same Islamic Banking Sciences Faculty of Keshavarzi Bank that my father had become the head of after the revolution. Mr. Kalani — his uncle — had also become the head of the Bojnourd Civil Registry.
When we went to Bojnourd, I just found out that my grandfather had the title of "Prophet" because he was a man of prayer and fasting, and neither sweat nor women—and I didn't know either! For a while he smoked cigarettes; with my force, he even beat a courier with me. Until he passed away, he went to Mecca and said, "I have become a pilgrim and that's it, Mammadjan." My grandfather died.
Ali's obsession was also hereditary! When he came home from work at night, he would take off his clothes in the yard, pick up a few newspapers, throw them by the stove, and sleep naked on the newspapers until morning—until they turned on the water heater, went to the bathroom, put on clean clothes, and came in.
Karim Khan was also terribly obsessed—wash, rub, soap! He once told me that he had gone to Iver or Darq to give birth. Then when he came to wash his hands, they gave him soap; he was left wondering where to put the soap. He asked, “Where should I put the soap?” The other person wouldn’t put it down or pick it up. He said, “Avi ku”—meaning, “Cow! Put your feet on another stone!” Karim Khan told me in an accent, and we would burst out laughing.
Firuz, Mojgan, and Zeenat were normal, cheerful, and easygoing, while Ali, Karim Khan, and Sosa were like an aunt who rubbed and rubbed and rubbed so much that she had a hundred different skin diseases and was getting a rash. She had to clean something, like Navid, may God forgive her, when he chatted.
My chess and board games got better there, because everyone was playing chess and backgammon. When my father was embarrassed, I would sing a song for Karim Khan. He would say, “Mammadjan, this morning he is the proudest of all! Like his father, no one can compete with him!” Firuz would come and say, “Let me rap on this little boy.” I would say, “Mammadjan, is that allowed?” He would say, “Firuzjon, are you calling me a little boy, are you going to apologize to your father later?” He would say, “You are still a fool!” — I would give him a piece of bread with two hands, and take it with three hands. Mojgan would say, “Come on, father, it’s my job!” Mojgan was also a cousin, couldn’t she fight him? She would take the dice, cast a spell on Hanbal. Mojgan and I would play so much that Dad would get bored and say, "Leave me alone, my cousin, what are you doing? Dinner is ready!"
Karim Khan used to tell stories: A man goes to him and says, "Doctor, my stomach hurts." He says, "Okay, tell me what you did? What did you eat?" He says, "I went to see my cousin, who is a girl..." The cousin says, "Where did you go, Dad?" Karim Khan says, "Let him go, tell him what you think!" He says, "Okay, Doctor, you won't!" In short, when Hassan Kurd finishes his story, Karim Khan angrily says, "You bastard! What does this have to do with your stomach ache? I'll tell you what you ate, you got hit in the stomach, what the hell?" And he says, "What do I know? Are you a doctor or a cow?!"
Now he had eaten his greed and was telling us stories and we were laughing. Then Baba and Karim Khan and Ali and Mojgan and Zeinat Khanum and Mom and Maryam and Ali and I would start telling jokes. My jokes never ended. I would only wear my eyebrows; I wouldn't tell the ones with the top in front of Mojgan and Zeinat Khanum. Baba would whisper everything in their ears and Mojgan would faint and become a thread. In short, it was a sweet time.
When we went to Cambiz, the old man was much more down-to-earth, smooth, and simple, and I liked all of this in a different way. I don't know if it was because I was closer to myself or because I was more comfortable with them. I had a lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but the old man was very calculated, handpicked, and arrogant. He had told his niece, Sugel, that in the morning when he said, "Neghin, John," with emphasis and intensity, "There is news, and I have done something wrong, and now come and load up on beans." The next day, when I said that, "John, look at me." L said, "Oh, what's wrong, Mommy? This is the same Gogol who asked his mom when he was very young, "Mommy, are you old?" and at dinner, he said, "Oh, my God, you're almost dead." He looked at her and said, "Okay, it's good that Gogol thought I'm almost dead, not at all." Look, he spoke Persian. Sogel was also broken and his grandmother complained, "Look, why are Togol and Phoebe speaking Persian?" Phoebe understood it but didn't speak it. Sogel also spoke English to her. She answered in Persian, but a little bit in a strange and funny way.
When we were in New York, I had become Google Maps. It was as if Google was asking. I searched. I answered. And when Google Maps was removed, Sogel would also answer the next question. It wasn't because of his cleverness, it wasn't because of his laziness. I think I was a more credible reference for him. Oh well, he's the smartest of all and he has nothing to do with family dharma. When he talks, he waves his finger around his ear in a circle. Well, they all waved it. Don't worry, Dad, I'll give him a kiss. How intelligent you are, girl. I wish Maryam had a lung like Google's.
Colonel Hassan Khan and Colonel Hussein Khan were also Karim Khan's brothers. They prayed but without ablution. I said, "Sir Colonel, don't you perform ablution?" He said, "Bamdadjan, ablution is for cleanliness, I am always clean too." I once made a mistake - in front of Karim Khan, I said to Colonel Hassan Khan, "You mean you have never farted in your life, Colonel?" He said a firm "no." Karim Khan burst out laughing and said, "Bamdadjan, Colonel Hassan Khan and Colonel Hussein Khan have fart stoppers!" Mojgan's eyelashes fluttered as the soda jumped down his throat and spilled out of his nose. Zeenat Khanum also said, "Well, Dad, he's telling the truth!"
In her youth, Zinatakhanum was a horseman and hunter, with a pedigree. When Bahmanjun came, Baba and I would either go with Firuz to the Bahmanjun garden and farm, or hunt, hunt meat, and have fun. It was a sweet time. Everyone was either related or knew us. Firuz and Ali were the grandchildren of the broker and the children of the village doctor. My father was the mayor and the head of the bank, and I had a bunch of cousins, each one more evil and famous than the other. The head of the Jajarm court — who is now the head of the Revolutionary Court — was a friend of Baba’s Fabrik.
Their sister, who was my father's grandmother, used to say to my mother, "May the desert wolf take you! What blind, bald, wretched man wants to get you?!" I've been to my grandmothers, each one more eloquent than the other! I didn't meet my father's grandmother, but my mother would say, "He's a big talker, literally!" Or she would say, "He's got a hundred bad things in the morning, one good thing—he doesn't lie." Or, "His spoon for eating is always his waist." I would say, "Mother, he's got two!" He would say, "Wakhi, wakhai, uncle!" Shahrudi was a proverbial mine, and I was his proverbial parrot, and I would pass them on to them. I knew all of his family and friends. I don't have the patience to be lazy. If I was very careful, I would stick a plantain in the other person's bowl two or three times. They had a plan; whoever was absent would be slapped with a soap opera and become the family joke of the year.
My father used to say: "My poor mother didn't know! The blind, bald, miserable wolf of the desert, Mamedek is his own son — a spoiled, spoiled boy after two sisters!" It was water under the straw for him. I am poor; my only son, but I put the itch in his mourning. He would pretend to be a servant to me, he didn't know that he himself was a proud man! Bahmanjon would honestly say: "Mamedjon, in the morning his language and literature are like a servant, may God have mercy on him." The story of the father's and Bahmanjon's death also has a story to leave for later.
To be continued...
Karim Khan was the son of a clerk. He had a practice in Jajarm and was a doctor. I have interesting memories of him; he was very sociable and eloquent. My father also had a heart for Karim Khan and his family. My wife, Zeenat Khan, was Karim Khan's wife. Since they were all Khans and Khans' sons, most of us addressed them as "Khan," but the patients, either out of stubbornness or indifference, would say "Mr. Doctor."
My wife's cooking was amazing. Firuz was their eldest son and my friend and comrade in the factory—the same age as my cousins. Evil and evil aside; one night they had gone to a certain garden with Ahmad to steal some tomatoes. They had also taken a salt shaker to put in the red and green tomatoes and cucumbers! But no matter how hard they tried, these sons of the family could not climb over the door or jump into the garden. Ahmad also tried, chained his left hand to the garden door and pulled it with a jerk until the door opened. The next day, when he was sick, they took him to his father's garden—theft! What a subject he had become.
Let alone that the child Firuz had an unsuccessful marriage; he was kidnapped and I think they got married in an emotional or moral situation. Karim Khan and Zeenat Khanum rejected him. Mojgan was his patient rock and he was most upset with my father. “Mammadjan, Firuz... Al-Firouz... Bal-Faqrouz!” Firuz went to Mashhad and on the Mashhad-Quchan road, during one of these trips, he had an accident and died young — like my father’s older brother who was run over by a horse and died, and my father dropped out of school for two years.
Later, my father met Colonel Dadras — the head of the Mashhad and Bojnourd Gendarmerie Regiments during the revolution — and Dr. Asterabadi, a pharmacist. Dr. Asterabadi knew my doctor’s uncle, who was a pharmacist. Uncle Ahmad had taken Aunt Farzaneh. My father also became a benefactor and introduced Foroughjoon to my uncle, in the villas of the former Keshavarzi Bank — the same Islamic Banking Sciences Faculty of Keshavarzi Bank that my father had become the head of after the revolution. Mr. Kalani — his uncle — had also become the head of the Bojnourd Civil Registry.
When we went to Bojnourd, I just found out that my grandfather had the title of "Prophet" because he was a man of prayer and fasting, and neither sweat nor women—and I didn't know either! For a while he smoked cigarettes; with my force, he even beat a courier with me. Until he passed away, he went to Mecca and said, "I have become a pilgrim and that's it, Mammadjan." My grandfather died.
Ali was also obsessed with Taghari! When he came home from work at night, he would take off his clothes in the yard, pick up a few newspapers, throw them by the stove, and sleep naked on the newspapers until morning—until they turned on the water heater, went to the bathroom, put on clean clothes, and came in.
Karim Khan was also terribly obsessed—wash, rub, soap! He once told me that he had gone to Iver or Darq to give birth. Then when he came to wash his hands, they gave him soap; he was left wondering where to put the soap. He asked, “Where should I put the soap?” The other person wouldn’t put it down or pick it up. He said, “Avi ku”—meaning, “Cow! Put your feet on another stone!” Karim Khan told me in an accent, and we would burst out laughing.
My chess and board games got better there, because everyone was playing chess and backgammon. When my father was embarrassed, I would sing a song for Karim Khan. He would say, “Mammadjan, this morning he is the proudest of all! Like his father, no one can compete with him!” Firuz would come and say, “Let me rap on this little boy.” I would say, “Mammadjan, is that allowed?” He would say, “Firuzjon, are you calling me a little boy, are you going to apologize to your father later?” He would say, “You are still a fool!” — I would give him a piece of bread with two hands, and take it with three hands. Mojgan would say, “Come on, father, it’s my job!” Mojgan was also a cousin, couldn’t she fight him? She would take the dice, cast a spell on Hanbal. Mojgan and I would play so much that Dad would get bored and say, "Leave me alone, my cousin, what are you doing? Dinner is ready!"
Karim Khan used to tell stories: A man goes to him and says, "Doctor, my stomach hurts." He says, "Okay, tell me what you did? What did you eat?" He says, "I went to see my cousin, who is a girl..." The cousin says, "Where did you go, Dad?" Karim Khan says, "Let him go, tell him what you think!" He says, "Okay, Doctor, you won't!" In short, when Hassan Kurd finishes his story, Karim Khan angrily says, "You bastard! What does this have to do with your stomach ache? I'll tell you what you ate, you got hit in the stomach, what the hell?" And he says, "What do I know? Are you a doctor or a cow?!"
Now he had eaten his greed and was telling us stories and we were laughing. Then Baba and Karim Khan and Ali and Mojgan and Zeinat Khanum and Mom and Maryam and Ali and I would start telling jokes. My jokes never ended. I would only wear my eyebrows; I wouldn't tell the ones with the top in front of Mojgan and Zeinat Khanum. Baba would whisper everything in their ears and Mojgan would faint and become a thread. In short, it was a sweet time.
Colonel Hassan Khan and Colonel Hussein Khan were also Karim Khan's brothers. They prayed but without ablution. I said, "Sir Colonel, don't you perform ablution?" He said, "Bamdadjan, ablution is for cleanliness, I am always clean too." I once made a mistake - in front of Karim Khan, I said to Colonel Hassan Khan, "You mean you have never farted in your life, Colonel?" He said a firm "no." Karim Khan burst out laughing and said, "Bamdadjan, Colonel Hassan Khan and Colonel Hussein Khan have fart stoppers!" Mojgan's eyelashes fluttered as the soda jumped down his throat and spilled out of his nose. Zeenat Khanum also said, "Well, Dad, he's telling the truth!"
In her youth, Zinatakhanum was a horseman and hunter, with a pedigree. When Bahmanjun came, Baba and I would either go with Firuz to the Bahmanjun garden and farm, or hunt, hunt meat, and have fun. It was a sweet time. Everyone was either related or knew us. Firuz and Ali were the grandchildren of the broker and the children of the village doctor. My father was the mayor and the head of the bank, and I had a bunch of cousins, each one more evil and famous than the other. The head of the Jajarm court — who is now the head of the Revolutionary Court — was a friend of Baba’s Fabrik.
Their sister, who was my father's grandmother, used to say to my mother, "May the desert wolf take you! What blind, bald, wretched man wants to get you?!" I've been to my grandmothers, each one more eloquent than the other! I didn't meet my father's grandmother, but my mother would say, "He's a big talker, literally!" Or she would say, "He's got a hundred bad things in the morning, one good thing—he doesn't lie." Or, "His spoon for eating is always his waist." I would say, "Mother, he's got two!" He would say, "Wakhi, wakhai, uncle!" Shahrudi was a proverbial mine, and I was his proverbial parrot, and I would pass them on to them. I knew all of his family and friends. I don't have the patience to be lazy. If I was very careful, I would stick a plantain in the other person's bowl two or three times. They had a plan; whoever was absent would be slapped with a soap opera and become the family joke of the year.
My father used to say: "My poor mother didn't know! The blind, bald, miserable wolf of the desert, Mamedek is his own son — a spoiled, spoiled boy after two sisters!" It was water under the straw for him. I am poor; my only son, but I put the itch in his mourning. He would pretend to be a servant to me, he didn't know that he himself was a proud man! Bahmanjon would honestly say: "Mamedjon, in the morning his language and literature are like a servant, may God have mercy on him." The story of the father's and Bahmanjon's death also has a story to leave for later.