The General’s Wife
She came from a royal family, the Qajars. The Qajar dynasty ruled Persia for close to two hundred years. That ended in 1925 when Ahmed Shah Qajar was exiled. She is part of the Qajars.
Good breeding cannot be eradicated as easily as a dynasty can. It is inbred. As a young girl, the general’s wife, let’s call her Pari for the sake of anonymity, lived in a palace-like home, with myriad of servants to cater to the family’s every whim. She had a French governess until she was old enough to go to school. At first, her governess oversaw her education. As she grew older, she went to Lycée Razi, a highly regarded French school run by the nuns, in Tehran. There were two international schools that were highly desirable in Tehran at that time. One was Lycée Razi, a French school, and the other was the Community School which was originally run by American missionaries. Most of the children who attended these schools came from affluent families. Each weekday morning, the chauffeur drove Pari to school and each afternoon brought her back home. She was a good-looking young lady with excellent deportment and diction. She was poised and soft-spoken. She played the piano, studied ballet from a very young age, and read all the classics. She had a way of holding herself erect, which made her appear very much in control.
Because of who they were, the present shah wanted to ensure cordial ties with their family. As a matter of fact, one of his wives was a Qajar princess. Her parents’ home was frequented by diplomats, heads of governments, ministers, chargée d’affaires, and the like.
When she graduated from the Lycée, she was sent to the Sorbonne in Paris. She spent a few years in Paris, after graduating and attained an extra je ne sais quoi Parisien polish and self-assurance. Upon her return to Tehran, everyone noticed that self-assured quality. Mothers of eligible sons began to suggest to their husbands what a fine catch she would make. Soon there were plenty of marriage proposals coming her way. In no time at all she was engaged to be married. He was an officer in the Shah’s Royal Guards. The old king had been exiled. It was now Mohamed Reza Shah Pahlavi that reigned. Whereas her education was of European influence, her husband’s was not. Their upbringing was of purely Persian old-fashioned values. They knew that Persians had a rich culture. Their literature, their poetry, their arts, and their music were known worldwide and surpassed most in richness. Her husband, Ali Reza, was a tall quiet man. He was not gregarious or loud. His demeanor commanded instant respect. Both he and the king were young then. He became a trusted friend of the Shah. Eventually, he rose to become a general.
They were content in their lives together. It inched pleasantly forward. One fine day followed another. They raised their family. The children grew and were sent to universities in the United States.
In the late 1970’s the country experienced political unrest. Khomeini, with the help of the Western powers, France, the UK, and the US, instigated demonstrations. The Shah had always been a great friend to the West. Recently he wanted to encourage the country to start becoming more self-reliant. He started to encourage building factories and producing their own goods. This did not sit too well with the Western powers. They created chaos and unrest in the country. Shah’s regime was unable to control it. Even though there were tanks and armed soldiers filling the streets of the various cities, cabinets and ministers constantly formed. However the were unable unable to last. They constantly formed and dissolved. Ministers came and left, came and left. A very astute, honorable, and much-loved prime minister, Amir Abbas Hoveyda, who faithfully served his country for twelve years was arrested and eventually executed. More public figures were executed. The Shah’s friend and bridge partner was peremptorily executed just because of his friendship with the king. The general was arrested as well. People became uneasy. The arrests had no rhyme or reason. People feared for their lives and that of their families and of their children. The general’s children were already studying abroad. The general decided his wife should leave the country, lest their children become both fatherless and motherless. She escaped and came to New York.
All of a sudden she found herself homeless and almost penniless. She was terrified that she would lose her husband. She shared a modest apartment with her daughter. They were like lost souls swaying in the feckless winds of fate. One night, on the news, she heard that a general had been executed in Tehran. She feared that it was her husband. She panicked and went into hysterical shock. She seemed to turn into a block of stone. She virtually was unable to see, she could not hear, she could not feel. She sat there unmoving and in shock as if she were an unfeeling block of stone. Her children hugged her, kissed her, and begged her to say something. ‘’Maman, Maman! Answer us! Maman! Maman!’’ they sobbed. Her children ranged in age from their teens to their early twenties. They were children of a privileged family. They had been cosseted all their lives. They were not equipped to handle life’s tragedies. And here they were with a father who might be executed and a mother who may lose her mind and become catatonic. It was too much for them. Too much! On the second day, the daughter hugged her unresponsive mother, laid her head on her mother’s bosom. She began to sob profusely. Her tears soaked her mother’s chest. Those bitter tears awoke the mother. Pari became aware of her children’s deep distress. Little by little, she took control of her situation. She constantly thanked God that it was not her husband who had been executed. Otherwise, who knows in what kind of situation she would have ended?
When one goes through a period of misfortune, most friends seem to desert one. That is what happened in her case. Her friends avoided her. Somehow others came to her aid, people that she knew casually. They found her jobs. They became her crutch. Slowly, she began to take control of her own fate. She was artistic. She designed and created costume jewelry and scarves. Because of her very elegant and ladylike demeanor, people trusted and respected her. I first met her at a friend’s house. She was showing her jewelry there. We became close friends. She was about ten years older than me. Her children were older than mine. But we formed a close relationship.
Eventually, her husband was freed from prison. He came to New York. He seemed to be emotionally exhausted and drained. He would smile vaguely, lean his head back against the armchair he sat on, and just listen, reluctant to join in any conversation. As time passed, he became less remote. He began to get better and stronger. We were all newly arrived in this country. We were all escapees from the revolution. Although we had not known each other in Iran, we found comfort in each other here. We understood each other’s pains and fears. We stayed friends for quite a few years. Pari’s son graduated and found a very good position in another part of the country. They all moved. At first we stayed in touch but eventually we drifted, as too often happens. I liked her. We had a connection in our personalities. More than thirty-five years have passed since they left. Sometimes something reminds me of her. I stop and remember. I wonder how she and her family are doing, and I wonder if she ever thinks about me, for once we were quite close, we were quite good friends. I wonder.
In life, one crosses paths with so many people. Some remain in one’s life until the end. Others stay for just a while as if they are a temporary wisp of breeze and then disappear. Then there are the ones that come into one’s life, leave an indelible imprint, and then vanish. Such was the general’s wife.