A play in one act by Gowhar Murad (Gholam-Hossein Sa’edi)
Translated and adapted by Eden Naby
Characters
HADI, an actor
BEHRUZ, a playwright
NAHID, Behruz’ wife
TWO GARDENERS
A summer day in the country, a garden in full bloom. Behruz, the owner of the garden, and his city friend Hadi are strolling along a path while Nahid trails behind holding a child.
HADI: Yes, I know… but it’s not that serious… You shouldn’t pay any attention.
BEHRUZ: But you can’t imagine how much I have suffered from all the jokes and snickers. I’ve told myself a thousand times that it was a mistake to publish “Memory of Atiq’s Promise.” You don’t know what a flood of criticism and sarcasm ensued from every corner. In my letter to you I barely touched on it. A week after the publication I couldn’t even step outside the house. After fully blasting the play, the paper went on to say, “Sir”-meaning me-“this kind of work isn’t going to put bread on your table. Forget about your pride, stop fooling around and wasting ink and paper… if for no other reason than for the sake of your wife and child.” And on top of that, they added a few inane verses satirizing the play. And then there was the letter from a high school teacher. After criticizing the play, he added sarcastically, “I know you will become the Molière of Iran.” One of the weeklies, I can’t remember which one, said, “With the publication of this play, a Shakespeare in prose has risen on the horizon. We are dispatching our photographer forthwith to get an image of this newborn phenomenon from all angles.” Goddammit! That’s enough to tear a man apart.
HADI: No… No… Don’t be silly. You can’t take what everybody says seriously. When I first started in the theater, I never saw anything but cynical looks on people’s faces. Now, I’m so used to things that even the applause doesn’t mean anything. Do you see my point?
BEHRUZ: You may be right. It probably isn’t worth the bother. But it is so discouraging….
HADI (Leaning against a tree): When I’m on stage, I forget everything else. Honest to God. I see no one. I pay attention to nothing but what the playwright has written. When you write you have to forget everything else too.
BEHRUZ: By the way, what do you think of The Crows, the play I read to you yesterday? Did you really like it? Honestly.
HADI: It was tremendous … I swear. Would you believe have memorized every line already? I read it more than five or six times last night and memorized all of it. If you wouldn’t mind, when I get back to the city I’ll have it staged at my own expense.
BEHRUZ (Laughs): I wonder where Nahid got to? Nahid, Nahid!
HADI: She’s picking flowers…. Hey! Do you want to play out the last scene of The Crows?
BEHRUZ: Sure, but I’ll…
HADI: OK… I’ll be the First Murderer and you be the Second.
NAHID (Comes over; the child laughs when it sees its father): What’s going on?
BEHRUZ: We want to play-act a little. We’re going to do the last scene of The Crows.
NAHID: Good. I’m glad to see you two are up to your old tricks again.
HADI: Is there anything wrong, Nahid?
NAHID: No… I’m just going back to pick more flowers.
(She goes off some distance.)
BEHRUZ: Let’s begin.
HADI: OK… Let’s see, I’m the First Murderer.
FIRST MURDERER (Hadi glares at his friend and looks angry and upset): You know, it was all your fault. Goddam bastard! You’re the one who dragged me into this and made a criminal out of me.
SECOND MURDERER: Me! Me! You were a two-bit punk from the beginning. I guess you’d like to forget what you did to that poor slob in the park that day.
FIRST MURDERER: Shut your mouth, you… I swear I’m going to carve out your heart and that ugly mug of yours one day.
SECOND MURDERER: Sure, that’s what I get for not turning you over to the cops.
FIRST MURDERER: Cops, is it? Cops! Squealing bastard.
SECOND MURDERER: Yeah, the cops. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d be ashamed to be connected with the likes of you…
FIRST MURDERER: Ashamed of me? You! That’s a laugh.
SECOND MURDERER: Stop shouting. Keep it down. Do you want everybody to hear you?
FIRST MURDERER (Taking a deep breath): Listen… Didn’t you make me go with you to that woman’s place and get me drunk? You made sure I had a couple of bottles…you don’t remember? And you promised me all kinds of things. Didn’t you then hand me the knife and show me how to use it? Didn’t you clap your hand over his mouth when I stuck the knife in his gut? Didn’t you? It wasn’t my fault… I was drunk. You had it all planned. You scheming skunk, you filthy-
SECOND MURDERER: That’s a lie. A lie. Sure, I was with you. I was passing by, I heard a scream and saw you run out the gate, knife in hand. I don’t even know you!
FIRST MURDERER (Rolling his eyes in disbelief, he takes a butcher knife out of his inside coat pocket): So you don’t know me?
SECOND MURDERER: You’d better be careful or I’ll choke you right now.
FIRST MURDERER: I’ll be careful… you, you-(He rushes at the Second Murderer, raises his knife, and plunges it into his stomach.) Choke me, will you! (He stabs again.)
The Second Murderer screams and falls. Nahid rushes over and sees her husband lying in a pool of blood. She runs, screaming “Murder, Murder!”
FIRST MURDERER: Come on, choke me…. You tricked me. You got me drunk. This is what you deserve, goddam bastard. Didn’t you know that your soul is not yours? Do you know me now?
Hearing Nahid scream, two gardeners rush up with shovels in their hands.
From New Writing from the Middle East, ed. Leo Hamalian & John D Yohannan, Mentor Editions, 1978.
About the Writer and Translator
Gowhar Murad is the pen name of Gholam-Hossein Sa’edi, the Iranian psychiatrist, fiction writer, and the most significant modern playwright of Iran. Born in Tabriz into an Azerbaijani family, he trained first as a physician and then as a psychiatrist – a clinical lens that would permanently shape his literary vision.
Eden Naby (1942 – ) is a cultural historian and independent scholar specializing in Central Asian studies and the ethno-religious minorities of the Middle East. Born in Urmia and raised in Tehran, she earned her PhD in Central Asian studies from Columbia University and taught at Pahlavi University in Shiraz (1975–77). She was the wife and close collaborator of the eminent Iranologist Richard Nelson Frye.
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