A Tea Party in the Garden in Vanak
It was a calm and serene night as I sat on the porch. The night was so still, I could almost imagine the stars moving to a graceful minuet in the starlit skies above. I smiled at that thought. I can hear Peter chuckle as he says, “Only you, Stella!” The pups were lying on the cool porch floor beside one of Teal’s cats. This one is his new tiny one who is very skittish. He is not comfortable with us just yet. He has only been with us for a few days. He will adjust. The three of them curl up side by side and doze off.
I lean back and relax. The ceiling fan makes a gentle whirring sound as it lazily turns round and round. It makes my mind drift off to years gone by. It was summer in Tehran. After our main meal at lunch time, everyone took a nap for an hour or so. To avoid the summer heat, work starts early. Everyone is at work by seven o’clock in the morning and by one o’clock everyone comes home for lunch. After lunch the whole household naps for an hour or two to allay the heat of the summer sun. By three, Turkish coffee is served and the men head back to their offices.
In those days there were no automatic sprinkler systems in Tehran. Our gardener, Mashkambar, rolls up his trousers and with bare feet he begins to water the lawn, the shrubs and the flower beds. He loves the feel of the cool water on his legs. He enjoys the sensation of his body cooling down as he waters the garden. He sprays the tiled veranda. With all that watering the garden begins to revive. The lawn feels cooler and somehow looks greener. The lawn emits the heady aroma of newly watered loam and grass. Papa’s roses, Mama’s jasmine and the patch of mint and other herbs, revive in delight. Their heady perfumes mingle together and waft throughout the garden. They all seem to have woken up as if from a long nap. Noses sensuously twitch from all the delightful aromas. A lone bee revives itself and begins to drunkenly buzz round and round the bushes. The birds sing their songs more joyously in appreciation of the breaking of the heat. The two huge forsythia bushes by the swimming pool begin to sway in delight in the fast cooling air. The gardener’s work is done. He is Khatoon’s husband. He lets Sultan and Khatoon know that he is done. They come out and make sure the seats and tables are dry. They arrange cushions on the garden chairs and embroidered tablecloths on the tables. Then they hurry back with platters of nuts, fruits and cakes. In the kitchen, Mama’s Russian samovar is humming contentedly to itself. Perched on top of it is a teapot filled with freshly brewed tea. On the counter in preparation, is a tray of estekans, the small tea glasses, and a silver intricately chased bowl of sugar cubes. Everything is ready. Mama’s friends will soon arrive. They usually come when the evening cools down sufficiently.
As I write, I picture them all. Some are elegant and smartly dressed. One walks in smelling of Ponds Cream and limping slightly. Then there is the one that Papa does not seem to like at all. I used to feel sorry for her, for he always made snide remarks to her and she would giggle in confusion. She was quite a gossip and he abhorred gossips with a passion!
In Fresh Meadows, night has fallen. The streets are silent. Every so often a lone car passes by. I enjoy the peaceful silence of the evening, but perhaps I should call it a night, but not just yet, for I enjoy the silence and the cool night air.
My mind travels back to the distant past, a lifetime ago. Mama’s friends arrived in groups and individually. I can hear the sound of their chatter. One of her friends, whom I truly liked because she always seem to have a happy expression on her face, walks in with her youngest child. He is a couple of years older than my two. Her other ones are much older. She is overjoyed with him. He was an unexpected gift from Above, which makes him all the more precious. She delights in him. She proudly holds his little hand as she walks in, as if she won the jackpot. She has. He is a lovely little boy. As soon as he see my young ones they all smile a big smile at each other and start chasing each other with Bingo, our dog, in tow. You could you hear the sound of children’s happy laughter and the dog’s joyful barking. Next the Aunties arrive and more mothers with more children. Some of the children ask if they can go swimming. Absolutely not, comes the reply! This is an afternoon tea party not a swimming party. Swimming parties are during the day, they are told. Some of the children settle down to a game of Snakes and Ladders. The older ones play Scrabble. The ladies chat. They speak of the latest parties and who became engaged to whom, as they sip their tea and nibble at the food. They speak about recipes and the latest dressmaker they had just discovered. She’s truly talented, dahling! Simply marvelous! A child falls and begins to howl until the booboo is kissed better. One of the older women thinks to herself, “Thank God I’m finished with that stage of my life!” Another older lady begins to speak about her blood pressure. She uses the French term,‘tension.’ Now a few of them begin to speak of their blood pressure.
Everyone seems to be having a great time. Sultan and Khatoon run back and forth trying to please them all. They are tired but they know they will be recompensed for the extra work. Evening falls. Some of the men return from work. More tea, more fruits, more nuts and cake. No more cheese toasts, for Papa hates the smell of cheese! The men sit a while then gather up their wives and children and go home.
It had been a most pleasant evening. Everything is tidied up. With a sigh of relief, Sultan and Khatoon retire for the night. It is just the family now. The stars in the sky twinkle merrily. Old Mr. Moon smiles down kindly. The crickets busily rub their appendages together as they chirp away their music. They reassure us that all is well. There are many tomorrows to come in the future. The world will be here into infinity and who knows what fate has planned for us, so enjoy the moment while it lasts.