Information about this story:

A presentation of the research institute "Andishe Online Germany (AOG)".

Excerpt from the book "The Miracle of Guadalupe"

Author: Faramarz Tabesh

Date of completion of the original Persian version: January 19.2005

Publication of the English and German versions: March 14, 2025

The following text was translated from Persian into German and then into English by Faramarz Tabesh.

An exciting true story

My Pretty Childhood Friend

As a child, perhaps from the age of six or seven, I spent most of my time at my loving paternal grandparents' house, which was relatively close to our home. I was interested in and respected my grandfather, a man of letters. But my dear grandmother and I had an intense spiritual connection. After all these years, she is the only person I can honestly say I loved deeply and still do.

To get a little bit of the atmosphere of this story, you need to know some facts about this powerful woman. But as briefly as possible, so you don't get bored.

One of my grandmother's favorite things was to rent a beautiful garden in the countryside around Tehran¹  every summer. She loved to spend time there with her grandchildren, so she rented a whole garden, including all the fruit on the trees, for three months in the countryside, namely Abali² and Oshan³, which most people called Oshan-Fasham⁴. It was the greatest time of my life! As soon as we got the keys, I'd go swimming in the beautiful river nearby or hunt for and enjoy ripe fruit on fruit trees, either by myself or with my uncles' children. The children of our family and their parents visited us in the village every weekend, on Thursdays and Fridays⁵. The other days, the parents had to work. We had such a good time. Sometimes, our friends from Tehran joined us, which made it even more fun.

I was so excited to be part of the whole process from the beginning, and it was indeed the highlight of these events, which I'll always cherish. Finding a large orchard in one of the villages, the ceremony of leasing the garden, and the move weren't just fun for me; they were an exciting adventure.

A few years later, as time passed and they grew older, my beloved grandparents sold their house in Tehran and moved to their hometown of Mashhad⁶.

However, my beloved grandmother would come to Tehran a few weeks earlier every year and take me to her new house in the Koohsangi⁷ district of Mashhad right after the last day of school when the summer vacation began. This trip was a real highlight for me because it was my first experience with air travel. The house in Mashhad was definitely much bigger than the one in Tehran, and for me, it was like a little world of its own. In the refrigerator, I could find delicious pastry creams, sausages, and organic eggs, three things I particularly liked. She got me a three-month pass for the outdoor pool to make the summer vacation even more exciting. She thought of everything that would make me happy and couldn't forget anything. In the courtyard of the new house, there was a big pond protected from the direct summer sun⁸ by the leaves of an old pear tree so that I could swim in it.

........

But let's go back to when they were still living in Tehran and the strange thing that happened to me there. Almost sixty years later, this event is still etched in my memory, forming the core of this story.

I'd love to give you a picture of the vibe and atmosphere of this house so you can imagine the time and place and immerse yourself in the story.

When you walked through the front door of this fascinating house, you entered a relatively large courtyard with a large pond in the middle—the size of a small swimming pool. I can't put into words how invaluable it was! I was absolutely ecstatic! But then, when the house was modernized, the large pond was replaced by a smaller but modern fish pond. The old trees and flower arrangements were supplemented with apple and pear trees and various new flowers, giving the courtyard a completely new, wonderful ambiance. Even before the house's modernization, when the courtyard walls were still made of bricks, some very old and tall poplars and dense and fragrant jasmine and trumpet flowers adorned the courtyard. This house was more than paradise for me, and I loved the fragrance of the jasmine flowers and poplar leaves, which, when sprayed with water on hot Tehran summer afternoons⁹, gave off all sorts of wonderful scents.

Every afternoon, after caring for our green friends—watering the plants and flowers and mopping the courtyard floor—we spread our carpets on the large wooden platforms and waited for guests. We never knew who they would be, and you know, that was the most exciting part. At night, we used these platforms covered with mosquito nets as beds.

At last, the doorbell rang, and the guests were joyfully greeted. Grandma served a delicious spread of peeled and sliced watermelons, mashhadi melons¹⁰, sweet treats, and tempting nibbles. Of course, there was also aromatic tea to warm the hearts of everyone present.

Even though my grandmother always had a maid in the house who she treated like her own child and was considered a family member by the family's children and, of course, by me, my grandmother used to do most of the work on her own.

Every night, my dear grandmother would place my wooden bed next to her in the yard, turn on her six-band radio, find the night story program after some searching, and adjust the radio volume. She'd take a cigarette from the pack, light it, and we'd both listen to the story of the night: "Train Signalman," "Johnny Darrell," or any other story on any theme broadcast by the radio. We enjoyed them together, with the scent of white and pink jasmine and other plants.

After the exciting night story ended, the music program called "Flower Program"¹¹ began, in which the most famous musicians and singers participated. The beautiful voices of Homeira¹², Mahasti¹³, and Golpa¹⁴, along with the breathtaking view of the starry sky, created a dreamy, heavenly atmosphere in this magical courtyard. But that wasn't all. From the corner of the courtyard, you could also hear the sound of the gentle summer wind blowing through the leaves of the towering poplars, playing a unique music like a waltz symphony that intoxicated and fascinated me, taking me out of time and out of place.

My beloved grandparents and I planted two little pine seedlings in the green space in front of the house, next to the newly built water channel. I measured them every two or three days to see if they had grown. Of course, it is clear that with my childish method, this mathematical calculation would never have been done correctly.

That was my wonderful world, and I loved it dearly. It was a place where I felt completely safe and free. It was such an exciting and reassuring world that I was unwilling to leave it momentarily. It was a tension-free and calming world that took me beyond the dimensions of time and space and embodied my childhood dreams.

My grandmother was an incredible leader. She maternally had everyone under control. In this yard, you could always see some of the brides, my parents, uncles, her grandchildren, and my grandma (maternal). The latter was actually the wife of my paternal grandmother's brother. She was a very kind and funny person. In this warm atmosphere, my dear grandmother assigned everyone their tasks in an authoritarian but friendly manner. Every Thursday evening¹⁵, there were a lot of activities in this beautiful courtyard because you could meet almost everyone there. In the light of the fluorescent lamps, some played backgammon, others cards or chess. The children ran around, playing or helping the adults cook and set the table. The sound of beautiful Iranian music, especially from Golpayegani, kouros Sarhangzadeh¹⁶, Homeira, Hayedeh¹⁷, Mahasti, Marzieh¹⁸, Elaheh¹⁹, and Pouran²⁰, echoed through the air, creating a joyous atmosphere. But the grandmother's voice was the loudest, as she kept giving orders. The only ones who were exempt from work were my maternal grandmother and me.

My beloved grandparents had a really special tradition that I remember with great affection. Every Thursday evening, my grandfather would take a turkey to the local butcher and have it slaughtered. The turkeys would be kept together with the poults in a garden in a part of town that I unfortunately no longer know where it was. The meat was used to prepare delicious dishes served to our esteemed guests, along with a traditional vegetable soup with special Iranian noodles. In Iran, this soup is called Ashe Reschte²¹ and is very popular.

Sometimes, friends and neighbors were invited to this private weekly party. One of them was a charming Kurdish woman from Kermanshah²². She always wore a beautiful Kurdish costume and walked around the neighborhood with a pretty little girl my age. I later found out that the girl was her granddaughter. She had lovely, honey-colored eyes, European blonde hair, fair skin, and a soft voice like a cat's. She was just the sweetest, cutest girl I ever met.

With these descriptions above, I think you might picture that this fantastic girl my age has completed the vibe of this wonderful house and turned my world into the most amazing one ever. But that's precisely the point.

My grandmother and I would often visit the lovely girl and her warm-hearted grandmother in the afternoons when there were no guests. Their house was just a block away from ours. As far as I can remember, I accompanied my grandmother on only one or two of these visits. After that, I avoided her company because this enchanting child had a strange effect on me that I couldn't describe. I always felt that she smelled of a special detergent called Tide. 

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Unification of the sciences of both dimensions

Even now, as I write these lines, despite having written dozens of scientific articles in different languages about the psyche, I am unable to psychoanalyze myself about this misplaced feeling.

Sometimes, I wonder if this feeling has arisen because of the encounter between the incredible beauty of the little girl and my little shame and embarrassment. But every time I think about it that way, I don't like that conclusion so much, and I try not to think about it anymore.

I was so surprised that the more I ran away from her, who could have been a great playmate, the more she wanted to play with me. Sometimes, she would ring our doorbell at ten or eleven in the morning and ask my grandmother about me. My grandmother, always kind and considerate, would give her a polite but incorrect answer out of respect for me.

She would say, "He's gone home, or he's sick, or he's in the bathroom," and she would invite the beautiful little miniature girl into the cozy courtyard, give her candy and milk so she wouldn't have to go home empty-handed, and send her on her way. She would observe the little girl until she reached her house, which was only a few houses away, and when she was sure that the little girl had gone inside, she would close the door and enter our home.

I should say that I was always open to playing with girls my age. This was never a problem because most of my childhood playmates were girls. There was a family in the neighborhood with two sisters who lived across the street from my grandparents. I think one was a year or two older than the other. On most summer days, I enjoyed playing with these dear sisters until, as usual, they had to go with their parents to their hometown in the beautiful green province of Gilan²³ in northern Iran for the summer vacation. Besides, most of the children of my age in our family were girls.

This suggests that my feelings for this beautiful Kermanshahi²⁴ girl must have another psychological reason.

Anyway, if I remember correctly, the gist of the story was that the doorbell rang on a summer afternoon. I opened the door and suddenly faced the pretty little girl and her grandmother. I greeted them briefly and sprinted into the hallway, which led to the stairs, and from there, to the roof. But just before I started to run away from it, my eyes fell for a few seconds on this extraordinary creature, and in that brief moment, I saw a deep, childlike smile on her face, full of longing for friendship. She just wanted to be my friend and play with me, but I didn't seem to be a suitable and appropriate friend for her.

Anyway, as I ran toward the roof, my grandmother suddenly appeared from the kitchen on the first flight of stairs that began at the end of the kitchen door. She was carrying a tray of tea and biscuits, and a maid was following her with a tray of fruit and snacks. In this complicated situation, I had no choice but to pass her at full speed. The result of such stupidity was an annoying shock to her.

Although my dear grandmother never spoke to me loudly or harshly but was always so gentle and loving, she was so shocked and angry that she screamed behind me:

"Hey, boy, what are you doing?"

She knew I was running away from this sweet little girl.

She continued:

"Run, run from her while you're a kid! And then, when you're an adult, you'll run after her, and this time she'll run away from you!"

Then, she continued in a calmer but reproachful tone:

"Incompetent!"

From the roof, I had a clear view of a spot under the apple and pear trees where bowls of fruit, sweets, and teacups were set out. There, sitting cross-legged between the two grandmothers, was a little girl with golden hair tied back in a flowery headband, bright honey-colored eyes, and a white dress with a pattern of tiny pink flowers. Her back was slightly bent, her fists clenched under her chin as she listened to the dull conversation of the two older ladies. A conversation that was decades away from the excitement of her vibrant childhood. It seemed pointless to a girl of five or six.

Amid this tedious passage of time, the little girl suddenly tapped her palm on my grandmother's thigh to get her attention and then asked:

"Aunty! Isn't Faramarz coming to play?"

My grandmother replied with extraordinary tenderness and kindness, perhaps a little confused:

"No, dear, forget it, he doesn't deserve it!"

Who knows, maybe she was so transfixed by this tiny creature's question that she could think of nothing but that sentence. Under normal circumstances, hearing this from my beloved grandmother, I would have gone home in protest because I didn't expect her to judge me so cruelly.

Anyway, remembering the little angel's disappointment when she heard my grandmother's answer and what I had seen when I opened the front door, I did not feel angry at my grandmother's judgment, but I gave her the right to think so.

In this regard, if you, dear readers, promise not to tell anyone, I will honestly reveal to you the secret that this situation made me feel a sharp pain in my throat and brought a few tears to my eyes.

Looking back now, after so many years have passed, I can see that my sweet grandmother, who always tried her best to do things the right way and plan ahead, saw this beautiful girl as her future dream bride—the girl I had to marry in the future.

The phrase "He's not worth it" or "He doesn't deserve it" might indicate that she was reconsidering her decision regarding her beloved grandson, whom, at least in this one case, she considered unworthy because of his stupid behavior. It felt like she was disappointed in me because I had probably crushed her dreams.

When school started after that incident, I never saw or heard from that little girl again. Apparently, she also returned to her parents in her city, but the memory of her and the way I had treated her stayed with me forever, haunting me.

Decades had passed since that incident, and the last time I was on vacation in Iran, I went with one of my cousins to the street where my grandparents' beautiful house stood. The house had been torn down and replaced by several floors of apartments, but the two pine trees that my grandmother and I had planted in the garden in front of the house when I was a child had remained. Those two seedlings had grown into lush, dense, tall pines.

Looking at the trees that I had planted myself over half a century ago, I was suddenly reminded of that time, especially of the little angel, and it made me so sad. I asked my cousin to accompany me to the home of the lady of Kermanshah and her beautiful granddaughter. After a short walk, we stood in front of the house that had suffered the same fate as my grandparents' house, and suddenly, my mood changed.

My cousin kept talking and explaining, but I couldn't hear her. At that moment, I imagined a sweet little girl, full of joy, coming out of the courtyard gate. She saw me and smiled, asking,

"Faramarz, have you finally come to play with me?"

I answered her with tears in my eyes,

"Yes, my dear, absolutely, with all my heart, whenever you want, wherever you choose, and as long as this game lasts."

Then, in the same fantasy, I saw my pretty childhood friend walking hand in hand with a boy of her age in an unknown direction. Away from today's Faramarz, who was standing there regretfully.

Faramarz Tabesh

From the book "The Miracle of Guadalupe

Footnotes:

1- At that time, many beautiful villages surrounded the Iranian capital, Tehran, but none remain today.

2 -At that time, Abali was a lovely village about 75 km from Tehran, known mainly for its dairy, international ski resort, and casino.

3- Oshan was a lovely village north of Tehran, known for its fresh air even in summer and its relatively wide and deep river.

4- Fasham, a beautiful village, is about 50 km from Tehran.

5- Friday is the weekend day in Iran. Work starts again on Saturday.

6- Mashhad is the capital of the Iranian province of Razavi-Khorasan and the second largest city in Iran. It is located 850 km east of Tehran. Mashhad is mainly known for its precious stones, unique sweets, and carpets, but also for the beautiful villages in the surrounding area. The inhabitants of Mashhad are known throughout Iran as Mashhadi or simply Mashdi. One of the most essential sights in Mashhad is the mausoleum of Nader Shah Afshar (1688-1747), one of Iran's most significant rulers.

7- Koohsangi is a park in Mashhad, Iran, and the second largest recreational, scientific, and park complex in an affluent neighborhood.

8- In the summer, Mashhad is very hot between 11 a.m. and 6 p.m., sometimes up to 40 degrees.

9- In Tehran, the capital of Iran, high temperatures must be expected even in the summer months. They can reach up to 35 degrees Celsius at midday and around 22 degrees Celsius in the afternoon. However, it gets cooler at night.

10- Mashhadi melons are known throughout Iran and neighboring countries for their unique sweet taste.

11- This music program title means the following: The music pieces are as dreamy and delicate as flowers.

12- Homeira, whose real name is Parvaneh Amir-Afshari, was born in Tehran on March 17, 1945, and is one of Iran's most renowned classical singers. She occupies an outstanding position in the Persian music scene.

13- Mahsati was born on November 16, 1946, in Tehran and died on June 25, 2007, in Santa Rosa, USA. She was one of Iran's most renowned classical singers and was prominent in Persian music.

14- Golpa, or Akbar Golpayegani, who was born in Tehran in 1934 and died there, is regarded by experts as an essential singer of the Iranian classical music genre. He is counted among the most renowned representatives of his art and occupies an outstanding position in the Persian music scene.

15- Thursday evening is the beginning of the weekend in Iran.

16- In professional circles, Kouros Sarhangzadeh enjoys the status of one of Iran's most critical classical singers.

17- Hayedeh, born Ma'soumeh Dadehbala on April 10, 1942, in Tehran, died on January 20, 1990, in San Francisco, California. She is regarded as Iran's most important classical and popular music singer.

18- Marzieh, born Ashraf al-Sadat Mortezaie in Tehran in 1924, died in Paris on October 13, 2010. She achieved great fame as a classical singer in Iran.

19- Elaheh was a renowned classical singer in Iran.

20- Pouran was a well-known classical singer in Iran.

21- Ashe Reshteh: Ash is similar to Vegetable soup, and Reshteh is a type of Iranian pasta. It is a traditional dish in Iran and is very popular.

22- Kermanshah is a large city in the central district of Kermanshah Province in Iran and serves as the capital of the province, county, and district. The city is located 525 kilometers (326 miles) from Tehran in the western part of the country. Kermanshah is known for its sweets, clothes, and local dances, but its ancient carvings on large stone pillars, such as the Taq e Bostan, the Behistun Inscription, etc., and the Museum of Ancient Arts have made it world famous. The inhabitants of Kermanshah are called Kermanshahi or Kermanshani.

23- Gilan is one of the greenest provinces in northern Iran, located on the Mazandaran Sea. The distance from the provincial center, Rasht, to Tehran is about 330 kilometers. Gilan Province is famous for its sweets, various syrups, different types of biscuits, unique foods, and exceptional types of fish.

24- The inhabitants of Kermanshah are called Kermanshahi or Kermanshani.