My Father's Notebook Read Online Free PDF Page A

telegram, hopped into his jeep and had himself driven to Saffron Mountain. After a long night’s drive, the jeep stopped at the foot of the mountain. The local gendarme offered the shah a mule, but he refused. He wanted to climb the mountain himself. Early in the morning, before the sun had struck the mountain peak, Reza Shah stood at the entrance to the cave. Wearing a military tunic and carrying a field marshal’s baton under his arm, he checked on the progress of his dream.
    • • •
    “What’s the problem?” he asked.
    “Your Majesty—” the chief engineer began, trembling. He didn’t dare go any further.
    “Explain it to me!”
    “Th-th-th-the rails have to go past here. I’m afraid that … that … that …”
    “Yes?”
    “I-I-I would like Your Majesty’s permission to … to … to relocate the cuneiform relief.”
    “Relocate it? Shut up, you stupid engineer! Find another solution!”
    “We’ve done all the cal-cal-cal-culations, checked out all the options. No matter how we do it, the dynamite could destroy the cave.”
    “Find another route!”
    “We’ve explored every alternative. This is the best route. The others are virtually impossible. We could make a huge detour, but …”
    “But what?”
    “It’ll take longer.”
    “How much longer?”
    “A number of months, Your Majesty. Six or seven months.”
    “We haven’t got that much time. We can’t lose a day. Or even an hour. As for you—get out of my sight, you idiot! ‘Impossible’— is that the only word you engineers know? Six or seven months? You must be joking!”
    Furious, the shah marched into the dark cave. Outside, no one dared to move. After a while he came out again. He looked down at the hordes of peasants—young men who’d climbed up the mountain to catch a glimpse of Reza Shah. When they saw him emerge from the cave, they leapt onto the rocks and began to shout, “Jawid shah! Jawid shah! Jawid shah!”
    The shah thrust his field marshal’s baton under his arm and slowly made his way down the mountain. Just as the gendarmes were about to chase away the peasants at the bottom, a group of elders from the surrounding villages appeared. Dressed in their most festive garments, they walked towards Reza Shah, carrying a bowl of water, a mirror and the Koran. When they were a hundred yards away, the oldest man threw the water in the direction of the shah and the other men bowed their heads.
    “Salaam, sultan of Persia!” the man exclaimed. “ Salaam , God’s earthly shadow!”
    He knelt and kissed the ground.
    “Come forward!” commanded the shah, pointing his baton at the place where he wanted the old man to stand.
    “Listen, graybeard! I don’t need your prayers. Use your head and give me some advice. That idiot of an engineer doesn’t know how to route the railway track. How can I get the train past the cave without doing any permanent damage?”
    The old man turned and went back to confer with the others.
      
    After a while he came back.
    “Well?”
    “For centuries our fathers have built houses here on Saffron Mountain, using only a pick-axe and spikes. No one has ever damaged the mountain. They chipped away the rock only in places where it was absolutely necessary. If Your Majesty wishes, I will call together all of the young men in the village. They will clear a path for your train.”
    A look of relief spread over the shah’s face. Then it clouded over again.
    “No, it’ll take too long. I don’t have that much time. I want it done fast.”
    “As Your Majesty wishes. In that case, I will call all of theyoung men on Saffron Mountain and, if necessary, all of the young men from the neighbouring mountains. We have experience, we know the mountain. Give our men the opportunity to prove themselves.”
    The shah was silent.
    “Give us the strongest pick-axes in the country.”
    “And then?”
    “Then we will clear a path, so the train can go around the cave and reach the other side of the