Magical Summer Nights at Café Shahrdari
It is a quiet Saturday morning, as I sit on my armchair, sipping at my morning cup of tea. The only sound that I hear is the gentle whirring of the ceiling fan as it lazily spins round and round. It takes me back to my childhood summer days and the fans cooling the summertime air. I smile to myself. How time has flown. My parents were young and vibrant. I was a young precocious little girl. They are long gone and I am an old lady who hobbles painfully as I walk and here I am recalling happy memories of those bygone days.
The sun is setting. The air is gradually cooling. In the Middle East the work day is divided into two parts. Mornings work starts from 7:30 until 1:00. At that time everyone goes home for lunch and a siesta. At four in the afternoon work commences again until seven o’clock in the evening. That’s when the fun begins once more. During summer, at least once a week my parents would hire a horse and topless carriage which would leisurely take us over the cobbled street to Shahrdari Park. I can still hear the sound of the two horses gently drawing the carriage, ‘clip, clop, clip, clop,’ up Khiaban Pahlavi. We descended at the entrance of the park. My father instructed the driver of the time he was to pick us up. The skies darkened, the air cooled dramatically. Overhead the moon benignly beamed down upon us and the stars twinkled dazzlingly as they danced across the endless dark velvet skies. The mountains surrounding the city looked down at the city as if in protection. At the entrance of the park you could faintly hear the the band playing at the cafe at the end of the park. The evenings were cool. The black velvet sky above us danced and shimmered merrily with twinkling stars. The moon fondly gazed down at the people dining and dancing as the band played on during those magical summer nights.
After they ordered, my parents leaned back and smiled at each other. The music was divine, the monde was perfect. Mama looked at Papa and asked, “Shall we?” He responded, “We shall!” With that they scooped me up. With one arm around each of their necks we danced and danced until our meal arrived. I was too little to have my own dish. The waiter brought me a medium-sized plate and utensils; my parents placed food on my plate. We danced some more. My tummy was full, my eyes grew heavy. I rested my head on my mother’s lap. Papa glanced at his watch. It was almost time to go. Papa signaled for the cheque. He rose and gently picked me up from my mother’s lap. He held my head against his shoulder. Slowly they made their way to the entrance of the park where the driver of horse and carriage was waiting. The horses made their way back home. ‘Clip, clop, clip, clop, clip…’