My Father's Notebook Read Online Free PDF

mountain.”
      
    That evening the muezzins from all the villages called from the roofs of their mosques, “Allahu akbar. La ilaha illa Allah. In the name of Allah, our forefathers and Reza Shah, we call on all strong men. Hurry, hurry, hurry to the mosque. Whatever you’re doing, stop right now and hurry to the mosque.”
    All evening and all night young men from the neighbouring villages poured into the mosque in Saffron Village.
    Early the next morning hundreds of men walked behind the village elder and stood in the designated spot at the foot of the mountain. One of those men was the seventeen-year-old Aga Akbar. He didn’t have the faintest idea who Reza Shah was or what he had in mind, much less what his plans for the country were. Like the other men, he had no idea why the railway tracks had to reach the other side of the mountain so quickly. All he knew was that a train had to go around the cave and that it was their job to save the cuneiform inscription.
      
    Reza Shah stood high on a rock and looked down at the men. The villagers had heard the legends about the shah.
    In those days the people in the towns and villages thought of him as a saviour. A powerful man. A champion of the poor. A reformer who wanted to give the country a face-lift.
    But his reputation in Tehran was very different. There he was known for his brutal treatment of the opposition.
    The shah had ordered that all the opium, tea and sugar be removed from the house of an important mullah, and had kept him under house arrest for three weeks. To the mullah this was tantamount to the death penalty. The shah had ordered the imams to remove their turbans and appear in public with their heads bare. His policemen went through the streets plucking chadors off the women who were still wearing them. When the imams in the holy city of Qom rose up in revolt, Reza Shah ordered that a cannon be placed at the gates of the golden mosque. Then he taunted the leader of the Shiites: “Come out of your hole, you black rat!”
    A rat? A black rat? What did he mean by that? He just called our great spiritual leader a black rat! Suddenly hundreds of young imams with rifles appeared on the roof of the golden mosque.
    “Fire!” the shah screamed at his officers.
    Dozens of imams were killed and dozens arrested. The sacred shrine was partially destroyed. A wave of shock ran through the Islamic world. Shopkeepers turned off their lights. The bazaar closed. People wore black. But the shah wouldn’t listen to reason.
    “Are there any more out there?”
    No, not a soul was left on the streets and rooftops. Everyone was sitting inside, behind locked doors.
      
    Aga Akbar knew none of these stories. He thought the shah was simply a high-ranking military officer. A general in a strange-looking tunic, with a stick under his arm.
    The village elder walked over to the shah, bowed and said, “The men are prepared to sacrifice themselves to realise Your Majesty’s dream.”
    Reza Shah didn’t answer. He looked at the peasants. His face was filled with doubt. Would they really be able to solve his problem?
    Just then a pair of armoured cars drove up and stoppednear the men. Two generals leapt out and raced over to the shah, each holding his cap in one hand and his rifle in the other.
    “Everything is ready, Your Majesty!” called one of the generals.
    “Unload them!” ordered the shah.
    The generals hurried back to the armoured cars.
    The soldiers threw open the doors and unloaded hundreds of English pick-axes.
    “You!” the shah yelled at the village elder standing before him. “Here are the pick-axes you asked for! If any of your men are lazy, I’ll put a bullet through your head!”
    He wheeled around. “Don’t just stand there,” he said to the chief engineer. “Get started!”
    The shah headed for his jeep. Suddenly he stopped, as if he’d forgotten something. He returned to his elevated position on the rock and beckoned one of the generals with his