Our village is one of those ancient villages where our fathers, grandfathers, mothers, and grandmothers lived and a generation after another left and went away.

Our village used to be very prosperous. We had a large garden with all kinds of fruit trees. Although the owner of the garden was the lord of the village, we could buy fruit from the gardener when they were in season. What delicious fruits it had, do you remember?!

We had a river where during the summers, when the weather was warm, the village children would swim in it and sometimes we would catch small and big fish from the river and bring them home.

Spring season made the village’s nature so green and beautiful that come and see. Winter snow and sledding on the snow, autumn leaves and overall everything was beautiful and the days passed happily for us children. Weddings and celebrations in the village, oh what a world we had and how happy we were?!

Now that I have grown up, the village has changed in a different way, it has completely changed its face. I remember those days when my grandmother would divide a white bag of flour equally among all the families in the village so that no family would go hungry. The villagers would often help each other with carrying heavy loads and would work together to harvest the fields. Everyone was kind and caring towards each other. But now, the village no longer has the same color, scent, joy, unity, purity, and intimacy as before. I don’t know why.

A few days ago, they heard news from the village and said: Morad has kicked his eldest son out of the house and gone to the city to deprive him of his father’s inheritance. Where will poor Morad’s tall son go with his wife and three half-height children?! How will he provide for his wife and children, and from where, especially in these difficult days of inflation and drought?

My grandmother used to talk about her brother Asghar and say, “Asghar was from this very village. He passed away a few years ago.” My grandmother would also say, “For many years, his brother Akbar, who was a bachelor and never married, took care of him like his own child and they lived together.” Asghar’s wife and children always referred to Akbar as “eyebrows above your eyes” (a term of endearment). They always respected each other and lived together with love and affection. One day, when Asghar passed away, he had requested that all his possessions be divided equally among his wife, children, and his brother Akbar. They were all good and honorable people from a past generation. But look at the present, how this man has kicked his own son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren out of the house and says that since they don’t listen to him, they have no right to live in this

My grandmother used to say, “Is this how you make a living? Like trying to move a rock on top of another rock?” This action of Mashdi Morad not only brings shame upon his son, but also upon all the villagers. I can’t help but think that this will not end well for any of us. But Mashdi Morad sticks to his word and doesn’t back down!

My grandmother, who has a lot of life experience and has tasted the bitter and sweet days, is worried about the current situation and says with anxiety and concern that this action will lead to a bad ending. A human should not only give rights to themselves and cause hatred and animosity.

My grandmother used to say that thinking about war, bloodshed, and brother killing leads to nothing. A person should be accountable for their actions and accept the words and desires of others, not just their own. Is this not misery?!