Norooz, the ancient Persian new year, is holiday of roughly two weeks, celebrated by Iranians and people of some neighboring countries. I do remember that Google regarded the day as Spring Equinox and avoided the term Norooz which at least 100 million people call it. The time of festivity and early spring, mixed with rejuvenation, come together to make Norooz unique in its beauty and energizing spirit. Its energy is mostly derived from the life which runs in the blooming of flowers and the rain that transforms all that winter cold into a more temperate tenderness in the shape of a morning dew left on the hollyhocks in our small garden as well as the palm trees and the cacti which make up most of the vegetation in a place where I am from. Rain is a little scarce and comes as a total surprise in my town but when it pours, it is loved by the locals. I do agree that land is thirsty for rain in order to grow its vegetation but people’s thirst for rain is rooted in their souls because they see mercy showering down not a disaster. Few fear flood. Children are seen to have happy looks on their faces. They go playing in the rain fearlessly regardless of what season it is. Their enthusiasm is not even stopped by the warnings of their parents. I remember vividly that evening of Norooz with a clarity that is added to your car windshield every time wipers clear the rain drops off the screen, that a special liveliness was running in my family and friends since it had rained heavily the night before and it had even hailed. So rain and Norooz, hand in hand, made that day lovelier and more pleasant. Waking up late at noon left me with no sign of fatigue after seeing through the windows that it looked more like early morning as the sky was dark with clouds and the streets wet. After having lunch, my friends called me and arranged for a drive out of the town to enjoy the post-rain sceneries. Nothing could make me get dressed faster. They came faster than I expected and I left the house while putting on my t-shirt. I thought there was no need to wear a jacket, and I am strong enough against the weak cold of the springtime. But I was wrong. So they arrived. Mohammad had brought his new car. Ahmad and Haj soon joined us and we got going. Mohammad’s car smelled new. On the way out of the town, we were discussing what were chances of raining that day again and few other things.
In all those talks, one complaint seemed to remain unsolved and that was the fact that his car lacked a CD player. We didn’t give up moaning and groaning that in such pleasant weather, music was missing. Mohammad blamed the manufacturer for that and we the entire car industry in Iran. It sounded ridiculous that they removed the original CD player and replaced it with nothing and put a lid on its place as if a snake was lurking behind it. Anyway, we didn’t much prolong the discussion of the empty CD player case and picked up other topics like gaming and at times silently feasted our eyes with the rare greeneries of fields and hills. Ahmad was in a hurry so we returned to the town not much later. Haj and I were not quite satisfied with the drive and we suggested Mohammad to go to the Billiard and play pool to complete the fun in that day. He didn’t object. Moments after, we found ourselves at the local Ariana pool club.
A few kids were playing. We went past them to the pool table and played the game for a few rounds. Some victories here and there and some defeat alongside the usual competitiveness which resulted in ranting and raving. Mohammad had to go to a barbershop so he left us midgame. Later, we, Haj and I left the pool for home, my house actually. I invited him there because it was much nearer for a walk because we had to walk when Mohammad took the car with him. We went home. It was early evening, then. In we went. My mom was home preparing some dough to make some local bread called Phalazen later. They greeted warmly and we went to my room.As he was seated, I asked Haj to work on some logo project for he was more skilled in that field while I went to pray the late afternoon prayer. I got back to him a while later and together we designed the logo that I desired for my website. Sometime later, Mohammad, having got a haircut and looking more handsome, was at our house gate waiting for us to join him for another drive at first, I hesitated to go but finally seeing another friend of ours in the car, I agreed. We had quite a short drive in the town this time and I asked them to drop me off at my place again. I felt my mom might need my help while baking Phalazen. I was right. Upon coming in, she summoned me to assist her in the baking and she was alone for a kind of baking that is usually done by two or three people. As she was flattening the dough for baking with her special tool called Chuvu, a wooden stick with mostly hard dough sticking round it, Iwould stick the flattened dough to Tavo, a flat round metal put on the stove to act like the old day ovens. As this went on for a few minutes along with talking about trivial things, telephone rang. I had my mom take over my role so I could pick up the telephone. It was my cousin Maryam, she had a word with my mom. So I returned to baking while giving the phone to her. I was overhearing their conversation, first up the usual greetings and wishing well and best of Norooz then something else which took my mom aback. I heard her asking in surprise “Now?” … “Isso-and-so coming too?” … “they arrived from Tehran?” … “OK, goodbye”.
That was it. Norooz guests were coming. They were distant relatives living in Tehran who happened to visit our town for Norooz holiday. My mom put down the phone in a hurry and said “your relatives from Tehran are coming in a moment, y’Allah. C’mon we need to stop the baking.” I Okayed. We had to do lots of things. First, the cleaning and vacuuming then the shopping and buying. After that phone call a chaos came to our kitchen. Mom was worried about sweets and fruits for entertaining the guests. I said I would go shopping. Mom was hiding the bakery tools as if they were evidence of a crime and she was also doing the dishes and simultaneously do a few more things. Things were happening fast. I called my sisters to come and help us in that grand duty of every family in Norooz and also their main concern, the entertaining of the guests. After that, I got on my bike and rushed to the nearest confectionery to get pastry and candy;in case, they bring along their children. I entered the pastry in a hurry as if I wanted to outrun the guests in a marathon towards my house. The guy in charge was kind and in all his kindness tried to ask me all manner of questions related to job and studies.
He didn’t know they were out of place but I think I didn’t look that much in a hurry to him. After weighing the candy and pastry and swiping of the card, back I was on my bike seat plus a bag of sweets and candy which imbalanced me on the bike. Hurry mixed with a bag of things on a bike is not recommended at all. While trying to get back to the main street, I was keeping the balance with one of my feet and trying to keep the bag in place with the other. In doing so, I had to brake somewhere and I lost the dear balance and the bag fell off my bike on the ground but thank God it didn’t get torn. I tried to remain seated and restore the balance, and get the bag again. I got back home with more sense of caution this time and didn’t make any more mess on the way. Reaching home, I found my mom vacuuming. Knowing full well that she suffers from backache, I got the hold of the vacuum pipe myself and handed her the rescued bag of sweets. I did the vacuuming in the entire living room fearing that guest would arrive any moment. On the other hand, the hustle and bustle in the kitchen continued and my mom was busy putting the fruit and pastry in china dishes. The bell rang and our hearts stopped. We weren’t ready yet. I needed to clean a few more things. I opened the door and I felt relieved when I found my sisters and my nephew behind it. I sighed in relief andassigned some of my tasks to them. The weather was brisk and cool and we didn’t need to turn on any fan or A/C. Opening the windows let the fresh cool air in. while I was dusting the sofa, my mom and my sisters were talking about the guests and that they come usually all of a sudden. Mom was still worried about the fruits.
We had only apples. It was a little weird to have only one kind of fruit to serve the guests. It would seem quite monotonous and uncommon in Persian tradition, especially in Norooz gatherings. We couldn’t either buy fruits for all fruit shops had run out of fruits in this time of the year. So my sister had an idea of going back to her house and fetching some fresh mandarins and oranges because the color orange itself adds a sort of spark and liveliness to the table as well as the fruit dish. We had no choice. All agreed and she left. Cleaning the fans was no easy task. It demanded a tall person and I was perhaps the tallest in the family so I got appointed for that arduous task when dusting the furniture was finished.
The bell rang again and this time, I was sure it was the guests. Everyone was like “What about the mandarins…” I guess my sister hadn’t even reached her house by the time the guests arrived. All in a hurry we did what was left of cleaning and putting the stuff in their places. Door was opened and there entered the troubling guests. A distant cousin of mine from Tehran and some other acquaintances accompanying her. Her husband was to join them a bit later. They came in and were met with the Norooz kind of greeting with lots of kisses on both cheeks, hugs and talks. My 3-year-old nephew, free from all the concerns of this world, was running across the living room with my mom’s walking stick in his hand maybe thinking himself to be Harry Potter and the stick to be his flying broom.