e
Aleppan cook a graceful greeting。 Heaping the meat…filled cabbage dolma into
my bowl； I covered it with yogurt and topped it off with handfuls of hot red
pepper flakes before taking a seat beside the young gentleman。
Every night a sorrow overwhelms me； a misery descends upon me。 Oh； my
brothers； my dear brothers； we’re being poisoned； we’re rotting； dying； we’re
exhausting ourselves as we live； we’ve sunk up to our necks in misery…Some
nights； I dream that he emerges from the well and es after me； but I know
we’ve buried him deeply beneath plenty of earth。 He couldn’t possibly rise
from the grave。
The gentleman； who I thought had buried his nose in his soup and
forgotten the whole world； opened the door to a conversation。 Was this a sign
from Allah？ “Yes；” I answered； “they’ve ground the meat to the right
consistency； my stuffed cabbage is quite to my liking。” I asked about him： He’d
recently graduated from a miserable twenty…coin college and been taken into
Arifi Pasha’s patronage as a clerk。 I didn’t ask him why； at this hour of the
night； he wasn’t at the Pasha’s estate； at the mosque or at home in the arms of
his beloved wife； but chose instead to be at this street kitchen teeming with
unmarried thugs。 He asked me where I’d e from and who I was。 I thought
for a moment。
“My name is Bihzad。 I’ve e from Herat and Tabriz。 I’ve painted the
most magnificent pictures； the most incredible masterpieces。 In Persia and
Arabia； in every Muslim book arts workshop where illustrations are made；
they’ve said this about me for