Maybe it was because of her cry or the thunder that my whole body began shaking. I was psychologically and mentally disturbed which was followed by a convulsion. My madness always arose in this way. No more excuse was needed.
I angrily picked up a jar of water and threw it towards my daughter, but my wife hurried between and was hit on the forehead. The stream of hot blood flowed down her cheeks. The other children trembling out of fear hid themselves in the other room. With a bloody face, my wife hurried towards the mantelshelf to pick up my pill container while my attention was drawn to the old radio newly mended by my son, which was broadcasting happy music. I imagined it was mocking me, so I picked it up and threw it against the wall. It was broken into pieces as a result. My wife returned with a pill and a glass of water. But I received the water and spilled it onto her face, then after hitting the door posts against the frame I ran into the yard.
That night I walked under a heavy rain for hours and reviewed the events of the past twenty years. I remembered the events that occurred during the suffocating Pahlavi regime due to which I was afflicted with such a neurotic disease and changed our home into a hell for my wife and children.
My eyes were closed to the reality. They could see no sign of life, but the storm of life was blowing, sometimes slowly, sometimes violently. When it was violent, I beat, broke, cursed, or burned our things. My poor wife would bear my ill words with tearful eyes and a blackened face. She only tried to calm me down. This disturbance was endless. It was my unwilling illegal and violent behaviour that would send my dear wife to the police station or the judge. She went there only to make me understand that all these deeds were madness.
That stormy night for me also ended at the police station, but as usual my wife returned me home. Not just as a skilled psychotherapist but also because of her modest kindness she disclosed the dark points of my soul and took the lantern of life into the dark spaces of my mind and tried to show me the ways of escaping from the world of madness and nightmares. My kind and patient wife reminded me of our love of the first years, respecting our contract of marriage, and for the sake of our five children’s destiny would bear all that violence. She had a mixture of love, sense of responsibility, and bitterness in her. Our children were deprived of fatherly affection and kindness and also of welfare because of the family’s poverty.
Hoping that I would recover from my illness, my wife tolerated all those adversities, but I was just like a dying tree, the leaves of which grew yellow and fall one by one. My state of health worsened day by day, due to severe headaches and neurotic reflections I was sent to the hospital again. My wife had turned into a defeated archer with a broken bow and empty quiver. She was at a critical junction, the death with an eternal tranquility or life with so much suffering and bewilderment.
It was for the first time that she did not come to the hospital to visit me. In the darkness of my loneliness I could observe her weary visage swinging between the two choices. I wasn't sure how long she could cover her exhaustion and pains with patience and tolerance. It took a long time, however, at last she came. It was the night before the 15th of Sha‘ban, the birthday of Imam Zaman(A.S) that she came with a bunch of red roses.
That night she took me to the Haram. We stepped into the Haram with both our hearts broken, sad and disappointed with everybody and everything. In the Imam courtyard behind the steel grill, we sought refuge in the holy Imam (A.S).
From the depths of her heart and with a wailing tone she began praying to the Merciful God. She made a recourse to the Immaculate Imams (A.S). She cried severely as if she wanted to turn her tolerance, patience, and keeping silence for twenty years into tears and penetrate them through the ears of people of the heavens and the eyes of the people of the earth.
It was the night of hope, the banquet of light, the night of happiness, love, and fulfillment of long, long wishes. It was the night followed by the birthday of the last Imam (A.S). My wife was swinging between hope and disappointment. After midnight my languished eyes were submitting to sleep. I was in the state of half wakefulness when I glanced at my wife’s face. I heard her voice among the other pilgrims’ voices calling: O’ Imam Rḍā(A.S)! O’ Imam Zaman(A.S)! Come to my relief, please! I have become weary!
Having heard these words I turned confused, nobody was there. In a frenzy I woke up, due to my excitement I was shaking uncontrollably. The gentle wind was sliding on my face. My soul was filled with a deep joy. I felt that I was dancing in the sky, over the white clouds with yellow margins painted by the sun, in an infinite atmosphere, on the blue blanket of sky, among the green leaves of Lombardy poplars, and over the red rose leaves. There was a diffusion of light everywhere. Thousands of lights green, white, red, and yellow were radiating, colorful lights all around. A pleasant sound of supplication was heard.
Unwillingly I shouted: O’ Imam Zaman(A.S)! , O’ Imam Rḍā (A.S)! I feel well. I feel no headache anymore! My wife was astonished. She couldn’t believe she witnessed what she wished to dream.
The Merciful God had responded to her prayer. Both of us were crying unwillingly, but this time we were shedding tears of joy and hope. These tears were for being, surviving. We were crying and the people around us, most of whom accompanied a diseased one to seek refuge in the Imam(A.S), were rushing toward us while reciting Takbeer, and Salawat and expressing feelings for our joy. The Khoddam of the holy shrine saved us from the excited crowd by taking us to one of the offices and let them calm down after observing that great miracle.
After a few hours, when the first beautiful rays of the sun gave the glad tiding of the first day of our new life, we returned to the courtyard. The people who had witnessed the miracle embraced and kissed me. We stayed among those believing and hopeful people for more than an hour, an eternal strange feeling was holding us together. Observing that strange event increased their hope and belief too.
Currently by the grace of God and the blessings of the Immaculate Imams(S.A) there is no sign of any neurotic problem in me. Alhamdu Lillah.
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