This is the last mom’s posts on Iran. She is writing on Iran now. I was planning to post this later till Sharmila, Madhu and Pinku wrote in asking for more. The ending was quite Bourdainish if you ask me.
“This one’s for Mamma… may she rest in peace
So this is the story of all the experiences that I had in Iran during that transitional period. I had long wanted to share these tales with others but the daily grind of everyday life did not allow me to. While writing this article I went through different emotions- some made me ecstatic and some touched raw nerves.
Many years have passed after this. I do not know what happened in Iran after we left it except for a stray newspaper report here and there or some news on TV.
Funnily enough, after many years I met a group of people who were very much interested in knowing about Iran and its culture. They are my bahu Kainaz’s (daughter in law’s) family. They belong to the Parsi community. Most interested among them was her maternal grandmother. Kainaz called her ‘mamma’ and doted on her.
Parsi’s are originally from Iran. But for some reasons, they were ousted from Iran centuries back. So were the ‘Bahais’ in recent years. We met quite a few Bahai doctors in the U.K. I am ignorant about the causes of exile in both the cases. The ‘Lotus Temple’ in Delhi is built by the Bahais.
Whenever we met Mamma, the good old lady would ask me about Iran and its people. But at that time I had not collected all my thoughts about Iran. Moreover, the language barrier also prevented me from saying much to her. (Mamma was extremely fond of my Mom and would keep asking ‘when is Rekha coming back to Mumbai’: Kalyan).
I appreciated Mamma’s feelings for Iran. Her desire to know more about it. I remember having seen similar sentiments among the migrants from East Pakistan when we were young. They would ask anybody, who came from that country about how things were in ‘daish’/ ‘desh’. They always referred to East Pakistan as their ‘daish’ / ‘desh’ or native place whatever the political reason for their migration might be. Now that generation is almost extinct and East Pakistan is referred to as Bangladesh, without being called anybody’s ‘daish’/’desh’ or ‘native land’. (Guess, its similar for Parsi’s after having spent so many centuries in India. But then you always want to know more about your origins…Kalyan)
While writing this post, I often remembered that good old Parsi lady who is no more with us. I felt like saying, ‘Mamma, this is for you. Sorry. I could not say much before.’
Here are the links to the earlier posts: