Winter in Winter

 

 

 

Golrokh Mehri

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

 

A young man and woman got into the car with their young child and went out to shop. It was winter and the cold air was piercing to the bone. The young mother had covered the young child with warm clothes, but she was still worried that the cold would not penetrate her beloved child’s body. But the child saw everything as beautiful in his childish world and his gaze was on the red balloon in his hands. He could not yet pronounce words correctly, but with his speechless language he tried to show his happiness to his parents.

The young parents were driving around the streets of the city with their one and a half year old child in the car to buy a house. The owner of the house had bought a car with his savings and the salary increase he had received from his job promotion and had been able to improve the quality of their lives. They were trying their best to be successful in life and provide the necessary facilities for their beloved child, and in this way, by earning a halal livelihood, they were trying to deliver a worthy child to society.

The cold winter air inside the car cabin had cooled down. The heater had no power to heat the air, but the warmth of this family’s presence filled the space with the warmth of love and affection.

The young couple talked a little about their child’s future. The mother, a benefactor of her child, would go and give her alms and recite poems to her. A smile of satisfaction would appear on the father’s lips, and while driving, they would thank God a thousand times for such a wife and child. They did their shopping at several points. In the hustle and bustle of the streets and the light of the street lamps, Ramtin’s eyes would sparkle and he would play with balloons with joy and loud laughter.

Meanwhile, they got out of the car at another point to go shopping. Suddenly, a cold wind blew in the darkness of the night, and its howling could be heard among the leafless branches of the trees on the street.

Ramtin, the playful little boy, let go of his red balloon. The wind did not spare him and snatched the balloon from his grasp and carried it into the sky. Ramtin, who did not understand being abandoned, was saddened that his balloon had left him and gone to the skies. He could not believe that his red balloon had left him alone and gone. He cried and became restless. The mother, who had just realized that the balloon was missing, tried to comfort him, but Ramtin desperately wanted his red balloon. The mother became impatient with the child’s restlessness and thought that perhaps she could get him another balloon, but Ramtin’s restlessness was of a different kind; it was as if his heart was filled with something else and now it seemed empty.

The father went to Zarathusht Street to buy the rest of the things. The weather had become darker and colder, and they had to return home as soon as possible; both to rest and to go to work earlier the next day, and because the cold was stronger on winter nights and caused a deeper burning sensation.

They were halfway down Zarathusht Street when life suddenly showed another face to this family; the black face of the devil. From the darkness of the night, a terrible explosion arose, causing the family to hear the sound of bells and bells, which eventually led to a trance-like silence. Silence filled the whole place, and space, time, and gravity suddenly disappeared. The young mother held the child in her arms and felt that she was in a dreamy and ambiguous space. She still did not understand what was happening and thought that she was traveling in the skies and the void.

But she suddenly felt a movement in her hands, and the sound of Ramtin crying in her arms brought her to her senses. She did not know where she was. Suddenly, pain penetrated her entire body. She tried to hold the child tightly in her arms. She wanted to get up, but she couldn’t feel her legs. She didn’t know what had happened, but she wanted to pick up her child and leave; but there was no strength in her body. Suddenly, she saw her husband on the other side, with a deep wound on his head and something hitting it; blood was flowing from it. Everything was so vague and unclear that she couldn’t react. Ramtin was in her arms and she tried to hold him tightly; her maternal instinct told her that this was how she could protect her child.

People came to their aid, but it was too late, and this warm and sweet family experienced the ruthless cold of a hated group in the cold winter; a pain that would haunt them for the rest of their lives and change their faces forever.

Days later, in the hospital, the young mother realized that she would never be able to stand on her feet again. She had no other mobility except her hands and head, and nothing was left for her body. But what was worse was that she had lost her life partner; the one who was supposed to be her and her child’s support for many years had suddenly passed away in a bitter and unbelievable accident. Of all the beautiful memories she had made for him, only Ramtin remained.

After months of useless treatments to regain a minimum of health and the ability to walk, the results failed and she lost her mobility forever. In such a situation, only one question formed in her mind: Why? What was the logic of these criminals? Why did they deprive a child of having a father? Why did they destroy the life story of a young woman who had great dreams of being with her husband and child in her youth and condemn her to sitting in a wheelchair? Why did they deprive a young child of having the blessings of a father, and thousands of other unanswered whys.

Years passed, and forty-one years had passed since that date. Ramtin and his mother had nothing left of their father and husband except a faded photo frame, and they never found an answer to the cowardice of some unscrupulous people. They had no choice but to be patient and left everything to God. The old mother joined her father without answering.