A Temporary Matter

A wonderful short story from Jhumpa Lahiri's book "Interpreter of Maladies".

Enjoy!

A Persian Rug

The whole world was silent for a moment. Ali couldn’t hear anything for a minute until his mother’s weeping suddenly broke into his ears. There was the old man, lying peacefully in his bed, looking pale as he has never seen him before. Ali knew that that would be the last time he’d see his father. Ali, who was a lonely child, did not cry. All of a sudden he was not able to bring tears to his eyes. He was shocked more than being sad. He recalled the first memory of his father, smiling in his face and playing with him. He remembered how his father taught him how to plant “romman” –pomegranate- at an early age; he even remembered how his father got angry if Ali wouldn’t eat all the seeds. He told him there’s always one seed in the romman that gets a person into heaven when they eat it. From that day on, Ali loved eating romman every day; he saw it as a short cut to heaven and gave him comfort when his father got angry because Ali didn’t do his daily prayers. He recalled the first time his father has beaten him when he took a nap under a tree instead of working on the field. All these memories flashed before his eyes as he stood in front of the body of his dead father.

Ali knows that it’s been hard for his family lately to manage their lives, his father’s death only made it worse. The drought has affected their land severely, and is now moving to neighboring towns. His village is empty, everyone left to places where they can earn a living. Ali doesn’t know what to do, he suddenly found himself, at the age of 11, in the position of responsibility towards his pregnant mother and widowed aunt.

It was a cold afternoon in March in Sangeel, a village in the outskirts of Shiraz in Iran. Ali was sitting outside his house, like any other day lately. Ali remembers how just two years ago, he and his father would plant the seeds for the following season’s crops. A woman walked out of the house, he knew she was the wife of Mr. Ismael, his father’s friend. Ali’s mother called his name, her voice sounded urgent. Ali walked into the house, an old one floor house made of red clay that somehow over time began to look grey. His mother was sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room with his aunt whispering something, as his mother saw him, she looked ready to tell him something. Although he couldn’t think of anything that would have his mother look so anxious to tell, Ali feared what she was about to say even before knowing what it was. He wanted to escape the pressure and avoided eye contact with her immediately. He tried to look unworried, and went to the other corner of the room to the clay container where water was stored to keep it cold. He took a sip of water even though he wasn’t thirsty; he did it just to get him self some more time before knowing what he thought was troubling news. His mother called again, thinking that he didn’t hear her before, “Ali come my darling,” she said trying to comfort him. The room was very dark but from a ray of light coming from the window beside his mother. His aunt was giving him looks of sympathy that he didn’t understand.

“Ismael’s wife was just here,” His mother said, and continued “you’re uncle Ismael wants to talk to you tonight. I told her you will go see him after the night prayer,” She concluded authoritatively.

“What is it about?” Ali asked.

“Don’t worry my dear; it’s only for the best of you and all of us. It will be the start of something good.” His aunt Khadija said with a smile.

That night, Ali felt an urge to perform the Esha –night- prayer. Maybe because it was what his father always wanted to see him do, be a good Muslim, but probably to kill time, especially that his mother always told him about the comfort of prayer. He needed the comfort before going to meet uncle Ismael. He never liked someone to tell him that they want them with something, because all it does is make him worry until that meeting. During prayer, the thought of possibilities couldn’t escape him, only he didn’t know what the possibilities are. Finally, the time came; he left their house for uncle Ismael’s house. It was a 5 minute walk, he tried to think about silly things on the way; where do falling stars go? Where does this small stream end?

As he arrived, he saw that a torch was on in the men’s lounge which was a separate part of the house. Ismael’s family was better off than Ali’s, they had a bigger house and many torches to light all the rooms at once. Ali’s house had only two torches, two bedrooms and a small living room part of which was a kitchen with a ground stove and a couple of pans. Ali entered the room, taking his shoes off outside. The room was filled with light as if it was morning. Uncle Ismael was sitting at the head of the room on the floor cushions that surrounded the room. Six other men were sitting having small conversations around the room. He didn’t recognize any of them. “Al Salam Alaikom,” Ali said in a loud voice that still sounded childish. Uncle Ismael looked at him with a wide smile as he walked through the long room, he pointed to Ali to sit next to him. Ali leaned forward and kissed uncle Ismael on his head and sat beside him. Ismael carried on with a conversation with the man next to him, while Ali started scanning the room around him. The walls were decorated with Persian rugs and some paintings; he smiled remembering how their house’s walls are decorated with cracks and stains. He looked closely at the Persian rug on the wall, it was beautiful and colorful. It showed a golden lion with people surrounding it. He remembered what his father told him about the Persian rugs, they’re the finest in the world and the rug gets better the more people step on it.

Finishing his conversation, uncle Ismael turned to him with a smile and poured minted tea into a cup next to him and handed it to Ali. After asking about his family, Ismael proceeded to say, “My son, I called you here to offer you help. I know you and aunt and mother are living a hard life, especially now with your father gone. It was hard enough for him... I can understand how you now can’t bear to live here.”

Uncle Ismael’s words were somewhat comforting to Ali, but he couldn’t see where he’s going. And just like what his father told him to do when older people talked, Ali listened. “I promised your father that I would take care of you and your mother, and I’m doing my duty towards him in front of god. I have arranged for you and your mother and aunt to move to Bushehr, it’s an area down by the sea. There’s a Bandar –port- in this area and I have talked to some people that are going to take care of you and get you on a boat. The boat will take you to across the sea to Koveit.” Ali didn’t want to hear the rest, and although uncle Ismael was talking, Ali this time was not listening. How can I move to another place? Why?! What is this Koveit?! He simply is not willing to go anywhere.

“Are you with me my son?” Uncle Ismael said when he noticed that Ali was drifting away with his thoughts. Ali gave his attention back to Ismael who continued, “As I said, it is a new country where one can make a decent living. Many of my relatives have gone there and many of the people in Sangeel too. I’m sending a letter with you to my cousin and he will take care of you and find you a job. Go there, and earn a living and one day you will come back here. It’s getting very hard to live here in Iran. This is the best thing for all of you.”

“But uncle, I have never been anywhere! How can I travel and leave our home? I don’t know what Koveit is!” Ali said with a very worried look. He looked even more worried than at his father’s funeral where Ismael last saw him.

“My son, this is all for the best. You don’t want your pregnant mother to have her child live a life here. There is no future here. I’m also thinking of moving, and might join you there soon. As for Koveit, I’m getting very good news from our relatives and friends there. They struggle with the language at first, because beyond that sea they’re all Arabs, but there’s a decent living. Go there
and make money then decide if you want to come back or not, it will only be for a short while at least until things get better here. Arrangements have been made, and you will leave to Bushehr in 5 days.”

It seemed inevitable to Ali, especially when he went back to his house and saw his mother and aunt. They agreed with what uncle Ismael offered, and told Ali that it would be for the best of everyone and that there’s nothing to loose anymore with the worsening conditions in Iran.

۩۩۩

The sea was spectacular. Ali has never seen that much water in one place. He remembered the old stream next to his house and asking where it ended. He also hasn’t seen that many people in one place. He remembered when his father once took him to Shiraz. It was huge with many people but not as much as here. The port was crowded with people moving in all directions, many shouting and yelling. Many were speaking a language he never heard before. He realized then that it was a different Iranian dialect than what they use in Sangeel and Shiraz. He seemed like a kid among giants. All the men around him had a strong build. He kept his mother and aunt waiting for him on a corner, while he went to ask about their ship.

As he turned the corner, he realized what a port is. He saw all the ships and dhows packed next to each other on the port’s dock. He stood for a second absorbing the enormity of the scene. It was a different world than what he had known. He suddenly felt excited, but the fear overwhelmed the excitement. He wanted to be back in Sangeel listening to his father’s stories over his mother’s cooked hot dinner about the legends that built this country. But he had to face the new reality. He walked to a group of men sitting at a table playing with dice a game he doesn’t understand. He didn’t want to distract them from what they’re doing, so he just stared at them from a close distance hoping to gain their attention. It didn’t take long for the bald man among them to stare back at Ali. He said something in a weird language. From the man’s tone Ali understood that he was asking him a question, but couldn’t really understand what he was saying. He quickly gave the man a piece of paper he was holding that had the name of the boat they were supposed to travel on. Recognizing the language Ali speaks, the man talked to him in that language and pointed to a dhow parked at the dock. Ali thanked the man and went back to his mother and aunt.

In front of the huge dhow stood two wooden walkways that lead to the main deck, people where rushing in and out of the ship carrying boxes and bags that were on the dock on their way in. A huge man was standing on the main deck talking to some men and seemed to be giving instructions. He was wearing a white shirt half buttoned, he looked overweight, and the white shirt appeared to be from his younger days along with the short black pants. He wore a black beret hat that had some writing in the front and carried a red handkerchief in his hands. His face was huge, almost non human with a short beard that had not been shaved for a couple of days. As soon as the man saw Ali and his company, he shouted to one of the men in a language that Ali understood, “I told you, women and children from the back.” The skinny man looked troubled and hurried towards Ali. He told him to get in the boat through the rear walkway. Ali followed his instructions. The walkway looked dangerous; it had no handles so any tiny shake would mean that he will fall in the water. The man on the deck told the women to get in first, they did quickly. Ali followed them. He walked slowly and kept looking down despite the man telling him not to do so. Ali knew that he did not know how to swim, and feared falling in the water beneath him. The man reached his hand to pull Ali and he did. His hand was not soft. The hand reminded Ali of his father’s rough hands. The man told Ali to go to a corner where other women, children, and some men were sitting. There were about twenty of them.

Ali gave the paper he had to the man that pulled him onto the deck. The man quickly went and showed the paper to the huge man that looked to be in charge. The huge man kept the paper in his hands and went towards Ali who wasn’t standing with the rest of the travelers, while his mother and aunt made themselves pretty comfortable and even started talking with others from what Ali saw. As he got closer to Ali, the huge man smiled showing his unorganized set of teeth. They looked rotten. Ali wondered why a man that lives by the large sea wouldn’t use some of its water to clean his teeth.

“So, you know Ismael?” The huge man asked Ali who nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry young man, you will be fine. We’ll take care of each other until we reach the other side of this sea.”

Ali felt some comfort. At least he was beginning his new journey with someone that knew who he was and where he came from.

As the boat pulled away, Ali saw Iran getting smaller and further away. He also saw the sea seeming even more never ending. His mother was talking with his aunt and another lady that he didn’t recognize. They were smiling and he was glad that they were. He looked back at the port and Iran as a whole, he felt as if he left part of his heart in there. He wondered whether he had also left the problems and sorrow he and his family were facing. He was hoping that he was traveling to a better place. The sky was clear blue with some scattered clouds, and the sea
looked fearful and peaceful at the same time.