Village atmosphere has always intrigued me. The fragrance of the plants, flowers and vegetables permeates the dusty scene of the returning cattle from the pasture. What a joy it is to watch that scene! In the background, the wheat has grown tall enough to paint the fields a pleasant green. The wind, running through the wheat creates pleasant waves.

Women went to the field early in the morning to gather hay. Mahmud accompanied me and, together, we walked on the fringes of the fields. Sometimes I went alone to give myself an opportunity to think. And soon discovered that nature is not at all compatible with sorrowful thoughts. The scenes it places before your eyes dispense with sorrow. I watched the women in the fields. They resembled tulips, vacillating in the wind. Just think of their colorful skirts and their red blouses against the green of the wheat fields. What a scene! From afar, Blue stood out among them. I could hear her sing. I sat at a distance from the women and watched them. When she saw me, it was as if a world was bestowed on her. She could not stand in one place. She joked, played games, and teased the other women. It were as though she was intoxicated by the sweet fragrance of the jujube trees. Bending as she was to collect hay, she sang. Her voice strong and clear:

"I love you little fat one
Don't call me, I shall come to you."

A pleasant eagerness comforted my soul. Her voice came to me like a soft breeze. Then I thought of her child and her husband, an itinerant worker with no land of his own. He worked for the others. Every day Blue tied the ankle of the child to the post in the center of the room and, for hours, left him there alone in the dark. They were destitute. Blue carried twice as much hay as did the men. She took the hay to the roof of their house to dry. Then, during winter, they sold the hay.

These thoughts filled me with a bitter-sweet feeling. Crestfallen, I returned to the school.

One day the villagers came pleading. They said that they needed the boys in the fields; they wanted me to hold class for half the day only. I accepted. From then on, as soon as the children left the school, I went to my room and rested on my bed. Later in the afternoon, I got up even more tired than I had started. I washed my face, went to the patio and watched Blue's window. She sat there, sorrowful and lonely, her arm propping her chin. Upon seeing me, she jumped with joy and, to express her pleasure, tossed her child to the air. Her kissing the child increased my sadness and bitterness. Eventually, I put my clothes on and left the house. Like an ivy, she appeared before me in the alley. She greeted me and in response to my inquiry about her health, she said, "I am your maid, Mr. Headmaster!"

That's all she said before she left. She was waiting for me to take the first step, to say something. But what was there for me to say? Irrelevant conversation turns man against his own soul.

The village was divided. Old wounds festered, creating new feuds. But that, too, did not bother me. It did not bother me what the villagers thought or, for that matter, what the city folk thought. Thinking of Blue plunged me in a sea of sorrow. Blue was extremely beautiful and she was married.

The heat weakens the body. At night, I rolled from one side to the other until I went to sleep. Then excessive sweat woke me. I looked at the rafters casually and rolled on my side. Blue was sitting on the floor of my room looking at me. She greeted me and said, "Mr. Headmaster, I brought you some eggs."

I said, "Blue, don't you have common sense! Why did you come to the school?"

She did not respond. She only looked at me. I shall never be able to either describe the expression on her face or know whom her eyes reminded me of. I asked her to leave. Her eyes filled with tears. Earlier that day she had gone to the bathhouse and made herself pretty. I was afraid to look her in the eyes, or look at her body or at the mole above the corner of her lip. She was as tame as a baby sheep. I repeated my request that she should leave. She wore her new tribal petticoat. My heart felt heavy. When I took my eyes off the floor, she was gone. She had left the school.

For hours after her departure I had the feeling that the entire village, carrying maces and clubs, waited behind the school gate to kill me. Why had Blue come to visit me in the heat of the afternoon? Why did I like her? Does she know what love is? Is love sleeping together? I don't know what my own expectation of love is.

In the afternoon I sat on the patio facing her window. But she did not come and sit in the window as usual. I missed her. The blue lotus of my imagination had perished permanently. Later, at sunset, I walked the village alleys in the hope of seeing her. She did not meet me as usual. I knew quite well what she expected of me but, dense as I was, I went back home, crept in the bed and went to sleep.

The next day, at noon, they had slaughtered a sheep at Blue's house. Mahmud said, "I will go and get the meat."

"Don't bother," I said, "I will go myself."

When I reached the gate, their dog barked at me and showed me his teeth. I stood motionless. The house was crowded. She said, "Mr. Headmaster! Mr. Headmaster!"

Those present noticed her enthusiasm and felt uneasy. She ran and calmed the dog. She did not look at me. The other women did not take their eyes off me.

Nazli, Blue's husband, squatted by the slain animal. He was holding a blood-stained butcher knife. He did not even acknowledge me. Blue's father greeted me warmly. Tea was ready. Blue placed her child on the dirty floor of the yard and washed the cups. Then she came, sat across from me and thrust her well-shaped breast in the child's mouth. She tried to pretend that she was not looking at me, but she did not succeed. I, too, had forgotten that we were in the presence of others. I pounced on her gaze and made it mine. Trapped, she could not get out. I smiled. Her face lit up, as if the sun had focused its rays on her face. She was no longer mad at me for sending her away. She resembled a blossom opening up in the delicate, morning air. I was transported with joy.

But my joy did not last long. A glance at Blue's father and at Nazli brought me back to reality. A vague sense of repentance lodged itself in my heart. When I saw her small child, I was crushed. Why did she seek my friendship? What do I intend to get out of this relationship? Am I seeking something that would enhance my depression, or am I seeking a little love?

When I took my leave, I felt the weight of Blue's gaze on me as she followed me from the rooftop. Not only the weight of her gaze, but also the weight of her desire for me.

The next day Nazli came to the school and asked for--no, demanded--some money. It was as if he were demanding his inheritance or something. I gave him some money. He took the money and, without even thanking me, left the school.

When I returned from town, I brought some ornamental coins for Blue. She had come to school on the pretense that she had come to get money. I asked her, "When are you going to wear those coins?"

"As soon as Nazli dies," she responded. "As soon as they carry his body to the morgue."

Her words shocked me. She then added, "Nazli says he knows everything. And he says he will not return your money!"

"I didn't give the money because of him," I said. "I gave it because of you. Besides, what is there for him to know?"

She brought her head close to mine, looked me in the eyes with her beautiful eyes, and said, "He knows that I come to the school. He does not consider you an upright man."

She then left. I placed my head on the back of the chair and allowed myself to be overtaken by thought. I hated myself. I wished instead of her, Nazli had come and cursed me. I felt that neither any thing or any one existed that could please me. I knew that even if, by a miracle, a spring with gorgeous blossoms were to appear in my life, an autumnal wind would immediately destine it for annihilation. My most sublime moments of life have always been shot down by inconsequential thoughts. For a long time now I have not either laughed or cried heartily. I look at the sunset, at loneliness, at the school with its tall and long walls. The walnut tree in the orchard across from the school has just leafed. It suffered during the winter but is now experiencing life again. In that sunset I witness the death of all the things that I have loved.

Ominous events lurked in the village. Starting as petty squabbles during the winter, they had grown and were about to blow up and shatter the tranquility of the village. Water rights rested at the bottom of all quarrels. The villagers had reached the end of their tether on the subject. And quarreling, passing the stage of mental harassment of each other, had reached the stage of physical confrontations. It was out and out battle now with no solutions in sight.

When children came to school the next day, each carried a slingshot in hand. At night donkey loads of rocks had been brought from the nearby river for those who manned the slingshots. Now, from below in the yard, women threw rocks up the roof to their men. And maces shone like small stars as the sun got caught in their shiny side. The battle started at ten.

The women shrieked the kel and the men cursed. They were all on the roofs and the roofs were connected to each other. There was a lot of commotion. All the students who had fled the school were also there. As for me, I ran from one rooftop to another and, under a shower of rocks, pleaded with them to stop. But they did not listen. By the time one party was convinced and brought down, another popped up on the roof and the battle began again. A rock from the slingshot is as devastating as a bullet. The farther the rock travels, the more damaging it becomes so much so that when at high speed it hits a door, the wood shatters.

I returned home, tired. But the battle continued until late in the afternoon. After quiet had returned to the village, Mahmud came to the school and said, "Five people are badly injured. They are critical. The gendarme is sent for. Two of the injured are women."

He then mentioned the name of one of the women, but withheld the name of the second. I began to worry about my Blue, about my little lotus.

At sunset, I went out and stood in front of the school. I was sad and worried. Blue's sister came and said, "Blue was struck by a rock. You can see her brain through the crack. She keeps repeating your name!"

Then tears ran down her cheek. Like Blue's head, my heart was broken. I recalled how she greeted me, "I am your maid, Mr. Headmaster!"

She was so kind and gentle. I had kissed her on the eyes only once. I could not believe what I heard. I whiled away my time until evening. I tried very hard to rest, but my body would not rest. I knew going to Blue's house would create more trouble. But I had no choice. I walked under the crescent moon lighting my way with a torch. I reached the house. The dog barked. Nazli, carrying a lantern, came to the door. The house was crowded. No one saw me.

Nazli did not approve of my visit. I prepared myself to ward off his attack. But he was calm. He had no right to be calm. He said, "Blue died a moment ago. You better go home and attend to your job of teaching the children."

He was right. I returned home. The sound of mourning came from the house; the village was dominated by evil. I felt I was losing a piece of my existence. I threw myself on the bed. It was dark. The wind blew through the trees in the orchard. I was terrified. My heart was heavy. The croaking of the frogs drove me crazy. Alone in the dark, I felt like crying.

When night eventually gave way to morning, I woke up and pulled myself out of bed. The children came to school. I sent them to their classes and myself went to the front gate and stood there. Blue's sister came towards me. I was saddened again. She asked, "Mr. Headmaster, why didn't you come?"

"I did," I said, "Nazli said that Blue had died early in the evening."

"No, Mr. Headmaster," she said. "He had told you a lie. Blue died at dawn today."

Then she began to cry. I was sitting on a stump by the brook. The frogs were jumping up and down in the water. How ugly they were! All their eyes were riveted on me. I laughed out of anger. I threw a rock into the water. It broke the surface and muddied the water. The frogs disappeared. It was as if they had never existed.

Shiraz
Spring 1967