The Abandoned Prince
We met him only on that occasion, one long weekend, many years ago. It was my daughter’s wedding. The wedding took place at her husband’s family’s working ranch in Northern California. We flew to San Francisco and drove for seven long hours up narrow, dusty, winding inroads that hugged the mountains on one side and, on the other, overlooked a steep, dizzying chasm. One prayed that no mistake was made while driving, for we could easily be hurled down into a deep abyss. To me, it was exhilarating, for it reminded me of the roads we used to travel through to get back to and from Ramsar, Chalous, or Bandar Pahlavi by the Caspian Sea from Tehran, my hometown. The air was thin, the landscape was verdant. Trees grew from the most unlikely formations of rocks. It was untouched by man. It was exhilarating, raw, wildly beautiful. Every once in a while, we spied eagles soaring high above us. On a ledge, we glimpsed a couple of lions frolicking at play. They paused for a moment to observe us as we drove past them, then they continued with their game.
At last, we reached the ranch. The van was covered with dust. We were relieved to have finally reached our destination. One of our group got out to push open the gates, but they were locked. Now, what were we going to do, we asked ourselves? Luckily, we did not have to fret too long. Very soon after we arrived, a young man in a dust-covered red sports car drove up.
“Are you going to the wedding?” he asked.
“Yes,” we answered in relief. “But the gates are locked and we cannot enter.”
“Ah! They must have forgotten to give you the passcode,” he said cheerfully. “It is a good thing I came along when I did, isn’t it? By the way, I’m the groom’s cousin.”
Peter replied, “And we are the bride’s family. I’m her stepfather; these are her mother, brother, and stepbrother. Pleased to meet you.”
The young man pressed in the passcode and we entered the ranch. We followed him. The road was still unpaved, dusty, and winding. We continued to climb up a winding, narrow mountain road, but this time it was part of the ranch. We observed more wild animals. There were eagles and mountain lions; there were gazelles, rabbits, and hares. I felt that we intruded upon their private domain. This was where they lived. We were infringing on their habitat. We were driving through land that belonged to them. They were part of nature, and we were their uninvited guests. I felt that we were infringing on their privacy. Higher and higher we climbed. It was majestic, and we were in awe of its beauty. It was the start of the month of June. The ground was covered with a carpet of red wildflowers. Butterflies fluttered above them. The aroma of the flowers perfumed the air. I could not help but be in awe of what God had created. My soul could not help but marvel at that which surrounded us. What beauty nature offered! What a thrill I felt in all that was about me. It took another hour for us to reach our destination. Before us was a sprawling ranch house. On one side was a swimming pool filled with ice-cold water, shimmering temptingly, just like our pool at home in Tehran. I longed to take a dip after that long, dusty ride. The area was surrounded by trees that provided privacy from the working cattle ranch. There were horses and stables.
That was many years ago, but I vividly recall there being streams on the property and someone mentioned a private railway stop. It was quite a pleasant place.
We were happily greeted by everyone. We settled in the rooms assigned to us. Once we made each other’s acquaintance, I became drawn to the young man and he to me. He had a warm and sweet personality, yet there was an underlying air of sadness about him as well. In the few days we spent at the ranch, between all the activities in preparing for the wedding ceremony, he gravitated towards me. He seemed to have the need to talk. I don’t know why, but something makes people confide in me. I never met that young man again, but he left a lasting impression upon me. I have never forgotten him.
One day, as we walked about, he began to speak. He was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He was doted upon by his parents. There was nothing that he desired which he did not have. He was an only child. As a young child, he had traveled in luxury everywhere he went, sometimes to faraway places. And everywhere he went, people were anxious to please him and make him feel happy, because he was his parents’ son. He truly believed himself to be a little prince. He experienced things that others had only dreamed of. He believed everyone lived in this manner. He wasn’t spoiled; he was just a happy child; a little boy living his happy life in his happy home. He had his mother and father, he had his nanny and the other staff that made sure their lives ran smoothly.
At about the age of ten, all of that changed drastically. His father left. Their home felt abandoned. His mother wept bitter tears of incredible pain. The walls echoed with a dismal silence. For a long while, their world seemed to stand silent. It throbbed with pain. There hardly remained any social interaction with friends coming and going. The staff whispered and tiptoed about in order not to distress their heartbroken mistress. The little boy was confused and bewildered. Where had his father gone? Why had he gone? Why did he not call him? Why did he not come and see him? Why did he not love him anymore? What had he done that was so wrong? He felt such a deep sense of loss, confusion, and hurt.
Years passed. He was in his early twenties now. He now knew that his father had more or less abandoned them because he had fallen in love with another woman. He was old enough now for an explanation for the cruel treatment he and his mother had endured. All these years, his thoughts taunted him, wondering why his father had so heartlessly turned his back on his mother and himself. He had a right to know, and he made up his mind to face his father for the reason. It took a great deal of courage for him to call his father’s office and make an appointment to see him.
At last, the day of the appointment arrived. He felt somewhat nervous and angry as he entered his father’s office. His father was sitting behind his desk. He got up and formally shook his hand and silently motioned him to a chair. The young man looked at his father critically. Whereas his father looked vibrant and healthy, his mother, in contrast, had become a sad, shriveled shadow of what she had once been. She felt rejected, unwanted, and unloved. The divorce had affected her greatly.
The young man no longer felt nervous. He looked his father in the eyes and with a firm, cold voice, he said, “Today I have come to ask you, why have you never come back to see how my mother and I were. After all, we are part of you. I am your son and my mother was your wife. Not once did you call to speak to me or to her. How could you have so cruelly abandoned us? We had such a wonderful life together. I had felt so loved. I thought I was the center of your world, then you left suddenly and pretended we did not exist, as if we were never part of your life. I felt crushed and very hurt. I did not know what I had done wrong to deserve this cold treatment. Now I am asking for an explanation. Why, father, why?”
A long, heavy silence filled the room. All the while, the son did not drop his gaze from his father’s face. He stoically waited for a reply.
At last, the father said, “I have another life now, another family. Sorry, son. I cannot help you.” With that, he got up and walked around to the young man. He placed his hand lightly upon his son’s shoulder and gently led him to the door and out of his office. He firmly closed the door behind him. The young man felt a bitter rush of pain wash over him. He closed his eyes for a moment, his head bent down. He clenched his fists helplessly. He pushed back the hot tears that threatened to run down his cheeks. Once he gained control of his emotions, he raised his head and slowly walked out of that building.
We were walking aimlessly through the paths of that ranch as he spoke. After he was done talking, I had tears in my eyes and I felt a lump in my throat. I quickly gave him a hug. There was nothing I could say. I experienced his pain and anger, and I never forgot.
Many years have passed since then. Recently, I heard that he has passed away. I wept for him as if I had lost a very dear friend. I wondered if he ever got over his father’s rejection. Oh, the cruelty of that fickle father, the heartless cruelty of him…