Darband Dancing Beneath the Stars
Sometimes as I sit on the porch in my solitude, I wander back in my memory to times gone by.
I always loved Darband. I loved the roaring rush of the melted snow coming down the mountain turning into a powerful river. The sound of the water was so loud that sometimes it blocked all others sounds. During the hot days and nights of summer, we looked forward to going to Darband. The mountain air was so refreshing, the sound of the water was like a calming elixir.
We would drive up north to Tajrish and on to Darband. The road would narrow and become windy as we drove up the mountain road. At the end of the road, we would park against the craggy rocky mountains which towered over us. From there, the only way to travel further would be to climb by foot or later by mule, depending on how far you wanted to go. Up we would walk and cross tiny little rickety foot bridges with the river roaring and snapping beneath our feet. Sometimes the water would lap at our legs flirtatiously.
Flanking the river were numerous little eateries that served barbecued lamb hearts, liver, kidneys and other organs. They would arrange the food on large round metal trays, lined and blanketed in long freshly baked flatbread called nan sangak. They would include barbecued tomatoes and onions in the mixture, together with sabzi khordan, a mixture of fresh herbs. It was delicious! With their fingers, the diners would tear pieces of bread, wrap the meat, herbs, and vegetables in it and eat from the communal dish.
The diners would sit around wooden bed-like platforms covered with Persian carpets, with their legs neatly tucked underneath them. These platforms perched on top of the riverbed. Radios crooned Persian love songs, which reverberated throughout the mountain range. I remember going there with my family as a little girl. Later on, as a young mother, we took our children when they were young. Alas, I do not even know if they retained any memory of those magical times, for the revolution came and we had to flee our country.
Sometimes we went to Hotel Darband. Hotel Darband was the grande dame of hotels. She was old, stately, and distinguished. The architecture was old-worldly. We climbed up sweeping stairs with impressive columns flanking each side to reach the main building. Some families would stay there during the summer months to beat the heat of the city. The men would go to their offices during the day and return in the early evening. The ladies would spend the day together with their friends and children, either chatting or walking along the footpaths. It was a very pleasant way to spend the summer.
For the younger generation, there was a discotheque where I had spent many an hour on many an evening dancing the night away with my group of friends before I got married. But my favorite spot at that hotel was their summer restaurant. It was situated outside under the starlit skies. A fragrant garden surrounded it. An orchestra played as we wined and dined. We danced to the music. The ladies mostly wore long elegant gowns and the gentlemen were clad in suits.
Once or twice a month, we went there to dine and dance, sometimes with other couples, sometimes with out-of-town visitors. Once we took our son and daughter as well, just the four of us. They were approximately four and five years old at that time. They too wore evening outfits. He wore a Lord Fauntleroy suit and she was dressed in a dreamy white silk organza gown with a pink sash. They were exquisite and so well-behaved. I smile to myself in delight each time I remember that night.
After dinner, we would get up to dance and our children danced by our side. Everyone smiled fondly as they watched them dance. I felt so proud to be the mother of such exquisite creatures. I often remember that night with great delight and a smile on my face. The black velvet skies were studded with twinkling stars scattered across their vast expanse, the heady plants perfumed the night air; the orchestra softly played in accompaniment to the sound of the rushing mountain stream as it hurried by. That was what made that place so special. Those were magical times, times when we thought all that was, would always be. We thought time would stand still at those sparkling moments. My children would live enchanted happy lives. We would always be young, strong and beautiful and we would all live happily ever after…
Once upon a time…