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  • Date :
  • 9/3/2014

Parvin and Agony of Father’s Death

parvin etesami

What I was always afraid of and tried to evade thinking about happened to me ultimately. It was just few days that my aunt had passed away and I was worried; my aunt’s death had left a strange impact on me. With her death, she caused me to remember death and think about the fact that ultimately one day I will be separated from my father. I was always afraid of the arrival of that day and it was even frightening to think about it. My concern wasn't futile, for it was just one week after the death of my aunt that the ominous incident happened. My aunt took her brother after her. It was the eve of Sunday, December 31. It was winter and the weather was cold. That winter was the 31st one in my life and what a bad winter it was, the year 1937. The weather was really cold. Just like my heart and those of my family members it had turned cold out of agony and mourning. I mean the agony of father’s death. To the end of his life, he was the librarian of the Parliament Library and was a member of the Cultural Committee of the Parliament. During his short period of librarianship, despite his old age and illness, he prepared three voluminous volumes of the bibliography of the several thousand books of the library, two of which were published in his lifetime and the third was in the press when he passed away.

My father, Yousuf E’tesam-ul-Mulk Ashtiyani, was my Yousuf (Josef) of Kan’an who went missing and never came back.

O, father the adze digging your grave

Was hand of destiny destroying me as well

They named you Yousuf [Josef] and gave you to wolf

Death became your wolf my Kan’ani Yousuf

O, moon of firmament of literature ye were buried

Earth became your prison O, my imprisoned moon

With the death of father, happiness and felicity bade farewell to our life. I had no other sympathizer except my mother and a brother who needed a sympathizer after the great agony of my father’s death. My father’s death woke me up. There wasn't any day I wouldn't think about death. Bahar still used to pay me visits. It was a great blessing meeting him. He reminded me of my father. I had lost a dear father and Bahar had lost a kind, learned friend. This was why we sympathized with each other and had always something to exchange about my father.

Translated by: Sadroddin Musawi


Other links:

Parvin’s First Poem

Parvin on Iranian Women of Her Time

Parvin Invited to Join the Ministry of Education

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