Craving for the Odor of Dust: Modegh, Narrated By His Wife

By Maryam Baradaran

Their love was fiery and full of dreams, just like their Revolution. They were meant to be as such and pay the price of love, like their Revolution.
Fereshteh and Manouchehr met in the stormy days of 1979, standing shoulder to shoulder for the triumph of the Islamic Revolution. Then the war broke out. He was bound to go. She waited. He returned with tiny metal fragments in his flesh and some amount of toxic chemicals in his lungs. The war had been won, but a new battle was on the way.
Shortly after, they lost a great man, their leader, their father figure, '¬Imam Khomeini' .¬They grew lonelier. Friends of yesterday turned their back on them and became strangers" .We used to break the same bread, now, you must schedule an appointment ”!¬Manouchehr would always say. But they did not want a seat as prize of war. They did not want a life like that.He was growing weaker every day, with cancer taking over his frail body… his prize of war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781794833784

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Craving for the odor of dust

Modegh, Narrated By His Wife

Maryam Baradaran

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Craving for the Odor of Dust

This is a work of nonfiction. Names, charac- ters, places, and incidents are based upon a true story and were obtained by a face-to-face interview. In this book no pseudonyms have been used.

Published by arrangement with the Translator All rights reserved.

Copyright© 2019 by

Islamic Civilization Discourse Institute

Translation © 2019 by Mojtaba Esfandiar Editing © 2019 by Ali Arsalan Shahla

This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permis- sion.

Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

For information contact: Islamic Civilization Discourse Institute

Translation Group

13 Rasht Street, Hafez Street, Tehran, I.R.Iran ICDI Publishing House website address is http://www.icdi.ir

Cover and Design: Mohammad Hasan Moradof Persian Reviser: Alireza Fattah

Electronic edition: October 2019

Originally published by

The Martyr Chamran Foundation © 2003 ISBN: 978-1-79483-378-4 

Author: Maryam Baradaran © 1999

Manouchehr Modegh

Fereshteh remembers every moment of her life. Barely might she remember what she had just said or who she phoned, but she recalls the time she spent with Manouchehr, and she takes a great deal of pride in him.

No wonder when you see that her life start- ed with Manouchehr, and still goes ahead. When you see their honesty and spiritual bond, you understand - what changes love can bring about. Only when stories come true in real life do their truth come to light, a bitter but lovely truth.

She had everything a girl of her age would have wanted; she was fancy-free and did what- ever she desired. But there still had remained an unfulfilled wish; she wished to put a tray full  of Bamieh (a kind of Iranian sweet, made from flour, oil and sugar) on her head and to sell them in the streets. This was the only wish to which her father was not open. She was always mutter- ing how they could deprive her of this pleasant experience. But one night, her father bought a tray full of Bamieh and said to Fereshteh, Sell these to us at home. She had no more wishes to pander.

My father always had our back. Everything was ready at the drop of a hat. I grew in a fam- ily of four sisters and two brothers. Fariba who got married to Jamshid, Manouchehr’s brother,

a year after my marriage; and Faranak, Fahimeh, Fariborz, Mohsen, and I. Every single one of us had the same freedom at home. You can do whatever you want; however, just lead a decent life, my father would always say to us.

At around 15, I started reading books. It was about 1978-79. There were plenty of factions and I wanted to know what they were. I hated the books of Toudeh Party (a Communist Party in Iran) like sin. I felt close to God in my heart and loved Him endlessly. I could not believe that God did not exist. I could not fight against my heart and soul. Finally, I decided to put them away. The books of Munafiqeen¹ included accounts of all their sufferings and tortures. I did not like their stuff, so I made up my mind to know Is- lam first, and then study other sects. I read Dr. Shariati’s books with my friends when we met for doing our homework. By and by, I decided

The terrorist group of ‘People’s Mujahedin of Iran’ is called by Iranians as Monafiqeen, meaning 'the Seditious'. Atfirst,thefoughtthemonarchist,butaftertheRevolution, theyturnedtoamassivemurderofpeopleandauthoritiesin 1981. Finally, due to their political and religious disagree- ment with people and the government, fled from Iran, and even took refuge in Saddam's Iraq during the War, where theycollaboratedwithhim.Formanyyearstheywerelisted asaterroristgroupbytheU.S.andEurope;however,today, Western powers supportthem.

to wear hijab. My mother was not into chador (a veil which Muslim women wear). I asked her to sew me a chador for visiting Imamzadahs¹ with my friends. I always folded my chador and put it at the bottom of my bag and covered it with a pile of books. When I went out, I wore it until I went back home. Wearing hijab was considered a political issue at that time. My family did not like my following politics. I see the end of the story and you see its excitement and enthusi- asm, my father used to say. But I was already a revolutionary. I knew that this regime had to go.

The backdoor of our school would open up to a boy’s high school, so we could exchange Imam’s (Imam Khomeini²) leaflets and cassettes with the aid of some boys. The janitor of the school helped us too. I remember the first time I listened to Imam’s speech; I was more mesmer- ized by his voice than his words. He was just like

Imamzadah,literallyoneborneofanimam,refers to a descendant of a Shia Imam and, by extension, to a shrine where such a descendant is buried. It is worth noting that Imamzadahs are appealed to asintercessors.

Beingaphilosopher,mystic,poet,andtheleaderofthe Islamic Revolution, Imam Khomeini (1902-89) led Iran's Revolution stressing the socio-political aspects of Islam, Velayat-e Faqih, empowering the oppressed and the poor, the unity of the Muslims, and importance of the freedom ofPalestinian.

us. I could understand his colloquial words and intimate accent. I was to believe that I was do- ing everything secretly. I was careful not to be unmasked.

My  father  knew  that  Fereshteh  was  up  to something. Fereshteh and her sister,  Fari-  ba, were in the same school. Fariba saw that Fereshteh ditched her classes and went out with her friends. Fariba let my father know about it but he shrugged it off. He just wanted to keep her away from Tehran, or to send her to Ahvaz or Arak to their relatives’. We are better off in Arak because it is a small city and one would get to his business more easily. It is the same with Ahvaz, Fereshteh said.

She would make matters worse anywhere she was sent to. Father did not know what Fereshteh was doing. Whenever something was up, she was the first person to show up. She did not miss any demonstration. She and her friends would act as security guards. Even her father did not know that she was chased after and almost ar- rested on November 7.

On November 7, the guards of Shah¹ sup- pressed demonstrations. We managed to escape and some guards chased us. They clutched at my chador and scarf and started to