had died of a serious illness. Muezzin had no desire to remarry. Instead, he slipped off every once in a while to the mountains to visit a couple of women. At such times he donned his best suit, put on his hat, grabbed his walking stick and disappeared for days at a time. While he was away, his son Shahbal took over his duties and climbed into the minaret to call the faithful to prayer.
After the evening prayer Imam Alsaberi was escorted back to the house by a group of men. Aqa Jaan always stayed a bit longer to talk to people. He was usually the last to leave the mosque.
Tonight he had a quick word with the caretaker about some repairs that needed to be made to the dome. As he was heading home, he heard his nephew Shahbal call his name.
‘Aqa Jaan! May I have a word with you?’
‘Of course, my boy!’
‘Do you have time to walk down to the river with me?’
‘To the river? But they’re expecting us at home. It’s almost dinnertime.’
‘I know, but it’s important.’
So they walked down to the gently flowing Sefidgani, which was not far from the house.
‘Actually, I don’t know how to say this. You don’t have to give me an immediate answer.’
‘Spit it out, my boy!’
‘It’s about the moon.’
‘The moon?’
‘No, not about the moon, but about television. And about the imam.’
‘Television? The moon? The imam? What are you trying to say?’
‘We . . . er, I mean, the imam needs to know what’s going on. He has to keep up with current events. Alsaberi only reads the books in his library, and they’re old, written centuries ago. He doesn’t read newspapers. He knows nothing about . . . well, about the moon, for example.’
‘Make yourself clear, for goodness’ sake! What is it that Alsaberi needs to know about the moon?’
‘Everybody’s talking about the moon these days. At school, in the bazaar, in the street. But we don’t discuss things like that at our house. Do you know what’s going to happen tonight?’
‘No, what?’
‘Two men are going to land on the moon tonight, and you don’t even know it! Maybe it’s not important to you or Alsaberi. But the Americans are going to plant their flag on the moon, and the city’s imam isn’t even aware of it. He didn’t make a single reference to it in his sermon. He should have mentioned it tonight, but he doesn’t even know it’s happening. And that’s not good for our mosque. The mosque is where people should hear about things that affect their lives.’
Aqa Jaan waited.
‘I tried to bring it up with Alsaberi,’ Shahbal went on, ‘but he didn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t believe in such things.’
‘What do you want us to do?’
‘The moon landing is being broadcast on television tonight. I’d like you and the imam to witness this historic event.’
‘How?’
‘On television!’
‘You expect us to watch television?’ Aqa Jaan was astounded. ‘You expect the city’s imam to watch television? Do you understand what you’re asking, my boy? Ever since television came to this town, the mosque has been warning people of its evils, urging them not to listen to the corrupt shah, not to watch the Americans. And now you’re suggesting that we sit and stare at the American flag! You know that we’re opposed to the shah and to the Americans who put him on his throne. We don’t need to bring the shah’s face and the American flag into our home. Why on earth do you want us to watch television? It’s a weapon used by the Americans to undermine our culture and religion! All kinds of strange things are being said about television. It’s full of disgusting shows that poison people’s minds.’
‘That’s not true! Or at any rate not entirely. They also broadcast serious programmes, like tonight. You ought to watch! The imam ought to watch! If we’re opposed to the shah and to the Americans, that’s all the more reason to watch it. Tonight the Americans are going to set foot on the moon. You’re the most important man in the city, and you should see it. I can rig up an aerial on the roof.’
‘You want to put an aerial on our roof? You’ll make us the laughing stock of the town. Tomorrow everyone will be saying, “Did you see the aerial on the roof of the house of the mosque?”’
‘I’ll fix it so that nobody will be able to see it.’
Shahbal’s request had taken Aqa Jaan by surprise. The boy knew what their position was on certain issues, but he dared to stand up for what he thought was right. It was a trait that Aqa Jaan had noted earlier in Shahbal. He admired his nephew for it.
Aqa Jaan had two daughters and a son, who was five years younger than Shahbal. And yet when he looked at Shahbal, he saw in him the man who would later take his place at the bazaar.
He tried to involve Shahbal in the important affairs of the house. He loved him like a son and was raising him to follow in his footsteps.
After school Shahbal always went directly to his uncle’s office, where Aqa Jaan told him about the latest developments in the bazaar and discussed the decisions he had taken or was about to take and asked him for advice.
Now, though, Shahbal had broached the subject of the television and the moon. Aqa Jaan suspected that the idea had been planted in his mind by Nosrat, Aqa Jaan’s youngest brother, who lived in Tehran.
After Aqa Jaan and Shahbal got back to the house, Aqa Jaan said to the grandmothers, ‘I’ll have my dinner in the library with the imam. I need to talk to him. Make sure we’re not disturbed.’
He went to the library and found the imam on the floor, sitting on his carpet and reading a book. Aqa Jaan sat down beside him and asked him what he was reading.
‘A book about Khadijah, the wife of Muhammad. She owned three thousand camels – the equivalent of three thousand delivery vans in today’s terms. Undreamt-of wealth. It makes sense to me now: Muhammad was young and poor, Khadijah was old and rich. Muhammad needed her camels – her vans – to launch his mission,’ said the imam, smiling.
‘That’s no way to talk about the Prophet!’ Aqa Jaan said.
‘Why not? Women were attracted to him, so why did he choose the widow Khadijah? She was nearly twenty years older than he was.’
The grandmothers came in with two round trays, set them down on the floor in front of the men and went out again.
‘Shahbal has been talking to me about the moon,’ Aqa Jaan said as they ate. ‘He thinks you ought to look at it.’
‘At the moon?’ said the imam.
‘He says that the imam of this city ought to be aware of the developments in this country and around the world. He objects to the fact that you don’t read a newspaper, that you read nothing but the old books in your library.’
The imam took off his glasses and wiped them casually on the tail of his long white shirt. ‘Shahbal has already told me all of this,’ he said.
‘Listen, his criticism is directed at me as well as you. In recent years we’ve focused entirely on religion. The mosque should introduce other topics as well, such as the men who will be walking on the moon tonight.’
‘That’s a lot of rubbish,’ the imam said.
‘Shahbal thinks you ought to watch. He wants to bring a television in here.’
‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Aqa Jaan?’
‘He’s bright, and I trust him. As you know, he’s a good boy. It’ll be our little secret. It won’t take long. He’ll remove