6/12/2008

Love In A Rice Field

Rice fields of Gilan, May 19, 2008.
The air smells so sweet and so delicious around a rice paddy in Northern Iran in the summer. You can smell the rice ripening in the fields. My friend, Maryam, who doesn't remember many things now, used to tell me stories about rice growth from planting to harvest. When I complained about how warm and humid Rasht was during the summer, making it difficult to move about and breathe, she would remind me that this is the weather rice needs to grow. I remember one day I told her how much I wished those clouds would gather and for rain to follow. Her beautiful and sweet face became thoughtful and as though she was talking to a child, she told me: "But if it rains, the rice would be ruined. You must be patient and pray that it wouldn't rain until after harvest time in Shahrivar. This is the wrong time of the year for rain." I was embarrassed for my ignorance and so thankful for her wisdom. For the rest of my life, I would remember Maryam as the woman who understood the earth and the nature of Gilan so much better than I ever could. She may not remember much, and chances are she will soon not remeber me either, but I remember her vividly, joyfully, and longingly tonight. Of her son I may have learned pain, but of her and her husband I learned nothing but love.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Salammmmmmmm


marzieh

Anonymous said...

Salam again
So glad to see you back and in control of your life, my sweet Nazy.
Thanks for the posts,I learn alot every day.

Marzieh

Parinaz said...

Yes Nazy jan;
And life is exactly a rice field! you have to wait for rain to wash your soul in an appropriate time; but till it rains, you have to tolerate the drought.
Tolerate the pain;
Tolerate the distances;
Tolerate the being...

Have a nice weekend.

ا. ش. said...

جمله ی پایانی ات تکان دهنده بود نازی عزیز. ما از "کسی" درد نمی آموزیم جز از بخش گسسته ی خویش.ء
حافظه بخش صلب ذهن است دوست من. در گذشته نمان نازی عزیز. آن که پسین می آید خاطر سنگ از او تهیست. می دانم که باور داری باید رونده بود در جریانی از "فردا" چون "رهگذری پسین".ء

نیما said...

کوه باید شد و ماند، رود باید شد و رفت...قبول نیست! اینجا خیلی رنگ و بوی گیلان داره،من هر وقت میام دل تنگ خونه میشم!...هفته ی پیش گیلان بارون خوبی بارید،کلی خوش به حال نشاهای برنج شد.کلی هم خوش به حال من که خیلی وقت بود هوای خودم بارونی بود ولی هوای تهران بارونی نمی شد!آره...مرداد که برنج پزونه! همه دعا می کنن که بارون نزنه...

Shobeir said...

wow!!
I do agree with Alef. Shin on how striking the last sentence is...
It's 2:30 am here and you have a shocked(!) reader in Iran, who is sitting in the silence of the night and thinking about ways to tolerate the pain and the should be learned lessons ...

Shad ziid

Shoeir

مسعود said...

سلام نازی خانم
سالهای دور رمانی ترجمه شده بود به نام : عشق روی کومه های یونجه
نام نویسنده و مترجم یادم نمانده است. بهر حال آمدنش مهم است،هر جا میخواهد باشد.آخرش حدیث نفس است دیگر.نه؟

ahmad said...

Such sweet memories from her and sense of appreciation to her whose son did not make nice with you show how fair you are ...

احسان said...

I appreciate the metaphore in this beautiful post. Isn't life bitter-sweet? Hot and humid weather pairs with quality rice, love pairs with pain, and so forth.

Azita said...

Salam Nazy Jan,
Life without emotions would be meaningless. We experience all sorts of things, the good the bad and the ugly. You’ve experienced pain and from the ashes you rise with a heart filled with love; this is triumph.

Esfand` said...

=) Have a wonderful sunday Nazy jan!

Wish you loads and loads of love and joy in days to come :D