The King

47. The Hookahs

No one could have foreseen the impact of the events in Shiraz. The fact that England was under fire was a godsend for Russia. And because it was becoming obvious that the shah was losing his self-confidence and control, the Russian ambassador in Tehran submitted the definitive contract for the Russian railway to the shah for his signature.

The shah hadn’t fully grasped what the fatwa actually meant, let alone that anyone knew how to put it into practice.

Ayatollah Shirazi himself was at a loss. One day, while taking his daily walk, he paused for a rest and looked behind him. There he saw his hookah lying on the bench. Probably the servant had put it there. Shirazi walked back and pushed the hookah over with the point of his walking stick, so it hit the paving stones with a crash and shattered into pieces. The servant witnessed this and took it to be an act of resistance. The report spread like wildfire. Thousands upon thousands of hookahs were thrown into the street and smashed.

In no time at all the country was littered with broken hookahs. Even in front of the British embassy in Tehran there were shards of hookahs lying in protest. To be on the safe side the building caretaker locked the iron gate of the embassy with a heavy chain and the embassy staff withdrew into the residence.

The shah too heard about the hookah actions. At first he thought it was just the work of young mischief-makers, but it appeared that the perpetrators were from all walks of life. What would the ayatollah’s next appeal be? Would he dare to set the populace directly against the shah?

At his wits’ end, the shah paced through the corridors of the palace. He even went to the second floor, where he seldom ventured. The garments and personal effects of his deceased father and the other kings were kept here. Hanging in this room was a large painting of his father. He knew the painting, which showed his father with his crown and royal robes, gloriously reclining against the throne’s gold satin cushions. But only now did he notice that his father was proudly smoking an enormous hookah. It was incomprehensible. Why had he never before seen this remarkable hookah in his father’s hand? Only now did he realise that this was not a portrait of the king, but of the hookah.

If the resistance movement’s shattering of hookahs were to reach his own palace, there was a chance that even his wives would heed the call of the aged ayatollah. The last thing the shah wanted was unrest among the people closest to him. Every day he sent Malijak into the harem to see whether any hookahs had been destroyed. Malijak always came back with a vague story.

‘Did you see the hookahs?’ the shah would ask him.

‘Yes, the hookahs,’ Malijak would say stupidly.

‘Were they intact?’

‘Intact?’ Malijak would ask.

‘Were they broken or not?’

‘No, not really broken.’

‘Are the women smoking their hookahs today?’

‘The women? Sure,’ Malijak would say.

‘Did you see it?’

He would look absently at the shah with his crossed eyes. The shah had the urge to give him a good hiding, but the pathetic spectacle of his little corpulent pet made his anger subside.

The shah could take it no longer. Late in the afternoon, when the women usually got together to smoke their hookahs, he strolled into the harem with Malijak. He greeted the servants in an unusually friendly manner and waited for Khwajeh Bashi, the harem overseer, who was always to be found in his room beside the door. But this time he wasn’t there, and his hookah was not where it ought to be, either.

‘He’s busy. He’ll come on his own,’ said the shah to Malijak, to reassure himself.

It was oddly quiet. Usually the women chattered with excitement whenever the shah was in the harem, and they fought for his attention. But today there wasn’t a woman to be seen. All the hookahs were standing against the wall.

Suddenly one hookah fell from the second floor and shattered nearby in a thousand pieces. Malijak hid behind the shah, who pretended he had seen and heard nothing. If this had happened a month ago the shah would have had the guilty party chopped to bits. But now he knew such a thing was no longer possible. He was sure the women in the harem who hated him were using the fatwa to seek revenge. If he were to punish one of them the rest would complain to the ayatollah and portray the shah as a godless man.

‘Khwajeh Bashi!’ shouted the shah.

The harem overseer crept out from behind a pile of dirty blankets and bowed awkwardly.

‘Call the women! We are going to smoke a hookah,’ said the shah.

The servants hastened to prepare the hookahs. Khwajeh Bashi walked past the women’s rooms and called out in an unsteady voice, ‘Ladies, the hookahs are ready. His Majesty would like to smoke with you.’

The shah went past the rooms with his hands behind his back. Malijak climbed up the slide, but he didn’t slide down. He felt the tension in the air and stayed at the top to keep an eye on his patron.

The women did not appear. The servants who had got the hookahs ready feared for their lives and kept a safe distance from the shah. Khwajeh Bashi went to fetch the shah’s chair and set it down next to the fountain. Handing him a hookah, he shouted, ‘Ladies, the shah has already started!’

The sound of the bolting of doors was barely audible. The shah inhaled a few times and concentrated on the red and green fish in the fountain. No one was allowed to smoke, according to the fatwa, and whoever did was unclean. The shah had now become unclean, and the women had the right, given to them by God, to ignore him and not to let him touch them.

‘Where is everyone?’ cried the shah.

The servants shrank into the dark corners. Khwajeh Bashi took cover behind the stack of dirty blankets. Although he was king the shah understood that he was not more powerful than the aged cleric. Even if he were to punish the women more severely than ever, not a single woman would consider touching a hookah or sharing her bed with him.

‘I said, where is everyone?’ roared the shah.

Malijak climbed down from the slide and approached the shah with hesitation. He took his hand and pulled him towards the door. To everyone’s relief the shah let Malijak lead him out.