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.
48. Claiming Sanctuary
The ayatollah’s fatwa had brought the country to its senses. You could see hope in everyone’s eyes. In Isfahan one of the big tobacco merchants brought his stock to the bazaar square and dramatically set the bales on fire.
The destruction of the hookahs had made everyone conscious of their power. The shah had proved vulnerable, and fear of the country’s rulers slowly ebbed away. Merchants in the bazaars of Tehran, Tabriz, Isfahan and Shiraz went en masse to the Jameh mosques in their own cities to ‘claim sanctuary’. Claiming sanctuary was a well-known way of going on strike. The demonstrators would take refuge in a place of worship and stay there until their demands were met. As long as they remained in a mosque or shrine they were safe. No one was allowed to trouble them. Even an arrest warrant from the king had no validity. Now large groups of people were entering the various mosques to support the strike.
The people behind the strike kept in contact with Jamal Khan’s committee in Tehran. All the supporters made use of the same slogans: ‘England! Hands off our tobacco!’ and ‘Give us a national telegraph network or we pull down the poles and cables!’
Some members of Jamal Khan’s group had additional demands. They wanted Persian experts to serve as inspectors at the oil wells. But the others felt it was too early for such a move. Besides, no one had enough expertise to judge the situation properly. For the time being they stuck with attainable demands that people could grasp.
The resistance grew. More and more people came to claim sanctuary with the merchants. The shah pretended to be unimpressed and said that under no circumstances would he cede to the demands of the demonstrators. To do so would jeopardise the deal he had struck with regard to his income. That agreement, and the fixed royal duties being levied on the telegraph and oil-drilling projects, covered the enormous expen
se of running his palace and his harem and paying for his travels. He didn’t want to put his ties with mighty England at risk, especially now that he was feeling threatened at home. In turbulent times like these the British embassy was a more dependable ally than his own ignorant people.
More than ever he was seized by doubt. So he went back to paying regular visits to his old mother, who had helped him before with her powers of discernment. Mahdolia knew her son. She talked to him and roused his flagging spirits: ‘These are moments that every king has to endure. Your subjects don’t understand what they want from life. It is the shah’s job to direct them. Don’t forget that Russia is standing right behind you. Your father and I forged a strong bond with them. Don’t take a single step backwards, my son, not even when your enemy is closing in on you. The men of our tribe have never feared death.’
His mother never hesitated to remind him of this alliance, but the shah doubted its value. The Russians were not a whit better than the rest. When it came to the crunch they too would think only of themselves. He was determined to endure to the bitter end. He wanted to show England that he was capable of defending their interests. So he gave the heads of all the country’s police forces the authority to crush the resistance with violence.
The fatwa issued by the aged ayatollah had not yet had any direct impact on the military. The army had always been unconditionally loyal to the king, and it would take a while for the power of the ayatollah’s words to penetrate the thick skin of the armed forces.
In Tehran armed policemen stormed the Jameh mosque and threw the striking merchants out. A few shopkeepers fought back, and one was killed as a result. As the merchants carried the body of their dead colleague to the bazaar mosque on their shoulders, a gang of bandits set fire to the shops. People tried to extinguish the fire with buckets of water to keep the whole bazaar from going up in flames.
News of the arson served as a warning to the other cities. The bazaars were guarded day and night.
In Tehran the head of the police force locked the door of the Jameh mosque and issued an order to arrest anyone found in the vicinity. The merchants continued to claim sanctuary in the small bazaar mosque, however, and countless people gathered on the square of the mosque to protect them.
The police were ruthless. They rode into the crowd, beat them with their long sticks and finally drove them from the square. The merchants were thrown out of their small mosque as well. With such exceptionally harsh measures and violent arrests it became impossible for the merchants to stand firm and united. And although the bazaars were guarded, bandits nevertheless succeeded in sneaking in under cover of night and burning down a shop here, a warehouse or storage area there. The merchants were gripped by fear and doubt. They wondered whether it might not be wiser to open the doors of their shops.
Jamal Khan’s committee became aware of their misgivings and decided to change their tactics. So far now they had followed a policy of passive resistance, but now it was time for a new initiative. It was either that or lose the battle.
After several meetings the decision was made to attack British property all across the country. Tobacco factories and plantations were occupied and the British and Indian employees were sent packing.
England exerted pressure on the shah to provide protection for its people and to safeguard its property and factories. The shah sent in the army to defend the British embassy and to rid the tobacco factories of demonstrators. On the tobacco plantations the farmers showed what they were made of. Armed with nothing but shovels and sticks they attacked the soldiers, and the soldiers opened fire.
The army’s brutal response aroused the anger of the populace. Telegraph cables were cut and poles were pulled from the ground and set on fire.
All the Britons in Persia were sent to the southern province, where it was safe. Only the ambassador and his staff remained in the embassy in Tehran in order to be close to the shah and to follow developments as they happened.
In the oil-rich areas several villages sprang up overnight. The British had everything they needed there for the long haul. One look at all the installations, buildings, athletic fields and water facilities made it clear that England was planning on staying in the country for at least a hundred years.
But what the British had feared so long was now about to happen. The shah was incapable of controlling the revolt. At first England had seen his weak power apparatus as an advantage. They were satisfied when the powerful vizier was succeeded by vizier Sheikh Aqasi. But now that their interests were being threatened they began to think differently. In order to secure their position they would have to learn to work together with the country’s bazaars. So London instructed its ambassador to speak with both the shah and the leaders of the insurgents. But the shah rejected any form of mediation out of hand.
‘We know our subjects better than you do,’ he told the British ambassador. ‘If we give these ayatollahs free rein, we’ll never be rid of them. The businessmen can’t keep their shops closed for ever. They’ll get tired of striking and start pushing their wares again. Have patience, as we do.’
Jamal Khan and his people reviewed the situation. They saw two possibilities: either increase their attacks on British property in the south or hold a mass march on the palace to put the shah under even more pressure. An attack on the British in the south was not feasible, so the committee decided to turn their attention to two strategic places in Tehran: the British embassy, which they would have to occupy, and the palace of the shah, which they would have to surround.
‘The British embassy is out of the question,’ said Jamal Khan during their talks. ‘They need us and we need them. We have to fight them and at the same time regard them as a partner against the repression of the shah, or we’ll lose the battle on both fronts. If we attack the British embassy it will give the shah an excuse to destroy us. I think we have to increase the pressure on the shah and at the same time demand a national telegraph system from the British.’
The plan sounded good, but it was still risky. What if things got out of hand and people began storming the palace? What if they took the shah hostage or, even worse, murdered him? Wouldn’t England and Russia take advantage of the chaos and divide the country between themselves? And wouldn’t that put an end to the ancient Persian Empire, once and for all? The occupation of the British embassy seemed like the best way forward. It would force both the British and the shah to take further steps.
After a week of interminable discussions Amir Nezam had something surprising to report. ‘The British tobacco company is prepared to discuss national tobacco production.’
The embassy had passed on the proposal via a mediator, an old acquaintance of Amir Nezam who met with him regularly in a tea house. As the son of a carpet dealer he had lived in London for a few years. Now he had his own business exporting Persian carpets to England. He was on good terms with the British embassy.
‘Friends, we have learned from talks with the mediator that London is not happy with Sheikh Aqasi as vizier. A peaceful, stable Persia would be to their benefit, and they’re looking for a way to influence developments. Reading between the lines, I get the feeling that London is prepared to reach a compromise.’
‘A compromise about what?’ asked Talebof.
‘A domestic telegraph network.’
‘Were these the mediator’s actual words?’ asked Jamal Khan with surprise.
‘No, not exactly. The ambassador submitted the idea to the shah, but he doesn’t want to talk about it just yet. The shah is afraid that if he agrees, he’ll lose control of the country.’
Everyone was impressed by this message.
‘But what does the mediator want?’ asked Mirza Reza.
‘Nothing. He just passed it on to me.’
‘England seems to be saying they’re not happy with the shah and they’re looking for a reliable partner,’ said Amir.
‘England’s motives are more complex than we think,’ said Jamal Khan. ‘That’s why we have
to come up with our own strategy and turn the heat up under the shah.’
Amir Nezam wasn’t the only one who had picked up these signals. The British were playing a two-handed game. They were afraid that if emergency struck, Russia would support the shah. So they passed a message on to the ayatollah through those who were closest to him: ‘England is prepared to give in, but the shah is blocking every option. Your help is needed.’
After Friday prayers the merchants stopped claiming sanctuary and went to the shah’s palace, followed by a huge crowd. With one voice they cried, ‘Tobacco! Tobacco! Persian tobacco! Telegraph! Telegraph! Telegraph!’
The shah was sitting at his writing desk when a palace guard knocked on the door and said, ‘Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Thousands of your subjects are on their way to the palace!’
The shah looked in the mirror and saw himself turn pale.
‘What are they shouting?’
‘They’re shouting anti-British slogans!’
‘What kinds of slogans?’
‘I don’t know, Your Majesty. I just received the report from one of our guards.’
The shah wanted to know whether they were shouting slogans against him as well.
‘But what are they shouting?’
‘Something about tobacco and telegraphs,’ said the man hesitantly.
‘Where are they now?’
‘They’re coming from the bazaar square and they’re probably about halfway here.’
‘Prepare our cannon,’ said the shah. ‘Put a row of cannons on the palace square with the barrels aimed at the demonstrators and warn Eyn ed-Dowleh immediately!’
The shah had appointed Eyn ed-Dowleh military advisor. By giving his son-in-law an important position and responsibility in the army he was securing his allegiance. Eyn ed-Dowleh was brave and trustworthy. The shah hoped that his grandson would inherit those characteristics. Taj Olsultan was almost full term. She was eagerly looking forward to the birth of her baby. As was the shah.