*dancer’s voice*
Mohajerani, Minister of Guidance, Khatami, was born in the village of Mohajeran, Arak, and has a book to his credit
*Zari Dancer*
There is a corner of Zari Raqsa’s childhood and teenage memories before the revolution
And here is a memory from Zari Raqsa’s book with the title
National God:
Zari Raqas was something else in terms of literacy and understanding!
well-spoken and literate,
Writer and poet
what a happy lady
He did not have a monastery.
His hands were very strong
His life consists of self-distraction and the garden
His grapes were passing.
Mr. Akhwan, also the principal of the school
It was us and also the teacher; He taught well.
Until he got jaundice
And he was hospitalized in our house
And he asked Zari the dancer to teach instead of him according to the terms and conditions.
Zari, a dancer on the first day of attendance
He said in class:
Children! Today we want to talk about God.
It doesn’t matter if you are Armenian
or Muslim
We all talk to God from any religion and profession.
Now imagine that you are sitting alone and want to talk to God.
Now from every class from first to sixth,
Someone come and tell us how he talks to God?
And what does he want from God?
Meanwhile, Mamli raised his hand and said:
May I say?*
He said: Tell me my son!
Memli his father’s galashes
He was wearing.
When the weather was good, he used to come to school barefoot.
Memli closed her eyes and said:
God!
All the lands of the world are yours;
So why didn’t you give it to my father?
There are all these houses in the city and the village;
Why don’t we have a house?
God!
You yourself know that we eat empty bread in our house some nights.
My mother’s milk has dried up, now there is no more milk for my little sister Fashana.
God!
We don’t have cows and sheep.
If the world did not give us milk,
My sister is starving and dying!
God!
We never have Eid. None of us have ever worn new clothes
And if Hasmik didn’t give colored eggs to my mother during Eid, there wouldn’t be Eid in our house!
The class was very quiet. Mamli seems to have forgotten that she is in class.
Zari the dancer was standing in front of the window. He was looking at the horizon from there.
Some children were crying.
Zari the dancer said slowly:
Speak my son!
Talk to God, talk more!
Memli said:
Allow the lady! I’m done
Zari the dancer returned and Memli
hugged and said:
God bless my son!
You should talk to God like this.
The class is over
And Zari the dancer went to his house and that night wrote a letter in his own handwriting to his father’s garden
It was the best vineyard in Maron village.
Give to the national family!
And now close your eyes so that we can recite some prayers together in Memli style:
national god
Remind our mujtahids and scholars of humanity once again!
national god
Let the embezzlers understand that this nation has no respect anymore, please be fair!
national god
Let our officials know that our workers and teachers cannot live with these salaries
Let them live, let alone produce and create economic prosperity!
national god
Reminding our officials that justice among the people is not more valuable than freedom from the arrogant foreign hands!
national god
Make our officials understand that embezzlement, looting, and looting of the people cannot be solved with take-and-close, but rather with freedom of criticism and transparent economics.
And it is solved without rent!
national god
Once again, tell our officials to read the constitution once from the beginning to the end and at least stick to this law despite its shortcomings!
national god
Let our officials know
A person who does not have a living does not have a resurrection!
national god
Let our officials understand that the youth have lost their monopoly on understanding religion.
Defeat the waist of thinking!
*National God*
*Teach the people that it is not the fault of the God of heaven, but rather the fault of the Gods of the earth, that your father has no work, no land and no cattle;*