Zahra My Grand daughter1

Whenever I look at my little granddaughter, Zahra, and my grandson, Muhammad Javad, I usually review the course of events that have led to the present day when I enjoy visiting my Sayyedah daughter-in-law, Marzeiah from Mashhad, my beautiful granddaughter, and my charming grandson, while myself being a Khadim of the holy shrine of Imam Riza (A.S). It began when during a summer holiday I, my wife, and our five children were sitting round at home in Qom. My wife began complaining in a happy mood, “You have never taken us to Mashad to perform a Ziyarah to the holy shrine of Imam Riza(A.S).” While feeling ashamed, I replied, “There are only two problems. The first is the lack of enough money for the bus fare and the second is a residence in Mashad

The Broom of a Khadim1

It was a cold winter afternoon. Under the faint rays of the sun, Zuhre was sitting on the eroded stairs in their house, leaning against the wall and embracing her folded legs and gazing at the leafless apple and pear trees in the middle of the yard covered with snow. The half-warm rays of the sun had melted some of the snow but the stone-made water container in the yard was frozen.

Zuhre loved winter. She felt a connection between the winter cool and her own life. The life was no more beautiful for her. Her sad eyes, bonny cheeks, and weak hands expressed her internal pain and suffering.

It was after the sunset and getting dark. Her chronic headache had begun. At first she tried not to take it seriously, so she got up and began walking, but it was really serious. She held her head between her palms tightly and sat back on the stairs. Her headache soothed a bit.

A Reward for a patient wife

            It was night. The sky just like an angry lion was roaring successively, and from time to time horrible lightning made everywhere light up. The family including me, my wife and the five children were sitting around the table cloth spread for dinner. I had a glance at the five pale faces lacking any smile on their lips, the waves of a mysterious amazement were reflecting from them. I wonder why I felt their look was filled with hostility, fear, uncertainty, and abjectness. Maybe they were waiting for a storm which had previously happened on many occasions. There was another lightning flash followed by a frightening thunder clap that vibrated all the glass panels. My little daughter screamed and threw herself into her mother’s arms.