was overcome by revolutionary dizziness. The old principal and deputy had fled and half of the students were absent from the classes that met irregularly. One of the teachers who had taken up the responsibilities of the principal nodded and Ahmad returned to work. But before the first real spring came to an end, he was arrested by the Revolutionary Committee on an afternoon that boasted its brilliant sun in a blue sky. It was the same day General Babapoor, the head of SAVAK, was tied to an antenna pole and executed by a firing squad. Two young revolutionary guards, in boots and olive overcoats, approached Ahmad as he walked toward his car after school.
“Ahmad Torkash-Vand?” the young man asked.
Ahmad nodded his head.
“Were you a member of the twenty-first parliament?”
Ahmad nodded his head.
“Would you come with us, please, sir?”
In his confessions after his arrest, General Babapoor had mentioned Ahmad’s speech that preceded a crackdown on revolutionary violence. Ahmad was tried in court and convicted of collusion in the death, torture, and persecution of many civilians and fighters of the Revolution. Ahmad tried, but could not offer counterproof of having written the poem that enabled the Air Force Arsenal occupation, the derailment of trains, and many more acts that harmed the regime.
“Even if you did write that, sir,” the judge said, “you wrote it for a woman, not the Revolution.”
Because Ahmad had left the parliament and because his name was found on a SAVAK blacklist, he received a clement sentence of nine years.
32
EEBA THOUGHT POORAN was going crazy because she heard her spend long hours in the basement talking to her dead husband. She heard Pooran shuffle down the steps and say things like, “Do you want anything besides water?” or “At least have a seat, dear.” She saved her longer conversations for nighttime. Up on the roof, Zeeba heard Pooran sit in the creaking chair and talk about her day before drifting into memories. Zeeba was worried Pooran would deteriorate into madness, but a few months passed and, besides talking to herself in the basement, Pooran was the same astute woman she had always known, and so Zeeba came to ignore the sounds she heard from the basement and sleep with peace of mind.
For a year and a half, Nosser did not sit down, except at night when Pooran came and insisted. Then one night, he still would not sit when she arrived, only shook his head, and she knew it was important. “You are leaving, aren’t you.” She did not ask, she knew it. Nosser did not answer, but in his concrete-cold face there was a look of sadness, of tears unable to flow. “Can you sit with me this one last time?” Pooran asked.
Nosser rearranged the strap of his rifle on his shoulder. “The Iraqis are coming.” He walked toward the door, stopped before going out, and turned back to Pooran. “Can I take the ball?” He glanced at the plastic ball that had sat in the bookshelf since the first night. “War is dreary.”
Pooran nodded softly, then got to her feet and took the ball from the shelf. She put her hands on his chest and strong arms, hugged him, and breathed the dusty smell of his uniform. Then she detached herself and waited for him to leave. Nosser opened the door and stepped out. He turned and said, “I love you,” then climbed the stairs, one hand on the strap, one hand holding the ball.
* * *
—
THE FIRST YEAR, THE WAR was only in the west. The second year, Pooran went to the store and bought rolls of protective tape.
“I want to help,” Khan said from his wheelchair.
Pooran gave him the scissors to hold and cut the tape for her. The old house had many windows and panes. They took their time. Khan put the scissors down in his lap and picked them up when Pooran unrolled the tape before him with a screech. Within three days there were X’s on all the glass panes of the house, except for the ones Pooran could not reach. The red siren alert sounded over the radio and the two TV channels, but Pooran relied on Zeeba whose ears were more reliable than the alerts. When she heard the bombers in the sky, the girl would hurry down the elevator and put Khan in his wheelchair long before the alarms went off. Panting, the two women took the wheelchair down the stairs and through the narrow door of the