The following text is adapted from Adib Khorram’s 2018 novel Darius the Great Is Not Okay.
Darius, a teenager from the United States, is visiting his grandparents, Mamou and Babou, and other family members in Iran.
I was too tired to fall all the way asleep, and even though Mamou was soft and warm, leaning up against her wasn’t a terribly comfortable position to sleep in. So I dozed and floated on the clouds of Farsi that blew my way from the front seat of Dayi [Uncle] Jamsheed’s SUV.
It reminded me of when I was little, and Mom chanted to me in Farsi every night before bedtime. It’s hard to describe Farsi chanting: the way Mom drew her voice out like the notes of a cello as she recited poems by Rumi or Hafez. I didn’t know what they meant, but that didn’t matter. It was quiet and soothing.
Darius, a teenager from the United States, is visiting his grandparents, Mamou and Babou, and other family members in Iran.
I was too tired to fall all the way asleep, and even though Mamou was soft and warm, leaning up against her wasn’t a terribly comfortable position to sleep in. So I dozed and floated on the clouds of Farsi that blew my way from the front seat of Dayi [Uncle] Jamsheed’s SUV.
It reminded me of when I was little, and Mom chanted to me in Farsi every night before bedtime. It’s hard to describe Farsi chanting: the way Mom drew her voice out like the notes of a cello as she recited poems by Rumi or Hafez. I didn’t know what they meant, but that didn’t matter. It was quiet and soothing.