Iran is the land of poetry. The greatest of the Persian poets, Hafez, Khayyam, Ferdowsi, Saadi, live on in the hearts of Iranians today. Their verses – penned centuries ago – roll effortlessly of the tongues of most Iranians: taxi drivers, school children, housewives, and businessmen will all know at least a few verses and would gladly recite their favorites from memory. It is said that every household in Iran must have two books – A Quran and a copy of Hafez’ Diwan. Hafez, the most honored of Persian poets, is consulted regularly on important matters. It is customary to open a copy of Hafez’ Diwan to a random page when faced with a difficulty; it is believed that the solution is buried in the verses of that page.
To understand more about the Iranian love of poetry, I took a trip to Shiraz – the heart of Persian culture and resting place of some of Iran’s greatest poets including Hafez and Saadi. The tombs of Hafez and Saadi are major pilgrimage sights – people come from all over Iran to pay homage to these greats. Shiraz is also conveniently an hour from Persepolis, the ruined capital of ancient Persia. Built over 2500 years ago, Persepolis was the symbolic center of the Achmenid Empire which stretched from Anatolia in the east to the Indus River (modern-day Pakistan) in the west. The seat of emperors such as Darius, Cyrus and Xerxes, the Persepolis complex was captured and burned to the ground by Alexander’s armies.
I arrived in Shiraz late in the early evening and wandered around the bazaar for a few hours. More pleasant than Tehran’s dirty industrial bazaar and Esfahan’s tourist-hungry shopkeepers, the Shiraz bazaar was the best I have been to in Iran thus far. Trade was brisk but orderly down the main thoroughfare of the Bazzar-e-Vakil. Colorful and attractive rolls of cloth lined most of the stores and quiet passages led off to the less-travelled corners of the bazaar. The sound of chirping bulbuls filled the air as many merchants had kept the birds in little cages near the entrances to their shops. I took a lane off to the left and entered a large courtyard with a shaded pool in the middle. A fountain was gently bubbling in the center. Souvenir shops surrounded the pool – overflowing with the most exquisite of Irani handicrafts: carved and painted wooden jewelry boxes, chess sets, water pipes, jewelry, copper plates, carpets, shawls, mirrors, antiques lamps, swords, photographs, tapestries….
The Bazaar-e-Vakil
The Bazaar-e-Vakil
A Courtyard in the Shiraz Bazaar
The Regent's Mosque in Shiraz
The next morning I hired a car to take me to Persepolis. It was early in the morning so the site was nearly empty and more importantly - the desert sun still lay low over the mountains. Persepolis was splendid in its isolation. It was set upon a massive base several stories high. The ruined columns and statues were visible from a distance. As I walked up the ancient stairs and walked through the gate of Xerxes, I marveled at the still-recognizable carvings of horses that flanked the entrance gate. I wandered amongst the ruined columns and statues towards the palaces in the rear of the complex. I came upon the hall of One Hundred Columns which had once been used as a receiving area for dignitaries from all corners of the empire during special occasions – particularly the Zoroastrian New Year.
On my way back from Persepolis, we stopped at the Naqsh-e-Rostam, the tombs of several Achmedian Kings, including Xerxes and Darius the Great. The tombs were carved high into the cliffs overlooking the dusty plains below. The silence was complete and the vista spectacular. What a wonderful and glorious place to spend an eternity.
The resting place of Darius the Great
In the evening I met up with a friend who had joined me from Tehran and we went to the Aramgah-e-Hafez – the resting place of the great poet. Set in a beautiful garden with fountains and Cyprus trees, Hafez’ tomb was very crowded that evening. Families with noisy children, reflective old people, and soldiers, all respectfully approached the simple tomb below the ornate dome. Many ran their hands over the carved verses on top of the tomb while others sat nearby reciting Hafez’ poetry under their breaths. The tomb of Hafez it seemed, was almost a religious place.
The Tomb of Hafez
The Tomb of Saadi
Later in the evening, the air became very bad. The giant pollution monitor at Engalab Square told us that particle levels in the atmosphere were 300% higher than safe breathing levels. Our taxi driver told us that dust had come from Arabastan – Iraq and was going to get worse over the coming days. We dutifully bought face masks at the nearest drugstore similar to the ones which had suddenly appeared on everyone’s faces in town. After weeks in Tehran breathing the lead-infused exhaust belched by the decades-old Paykans, I had finally succumbed to a face-mask in Shiraz. Of all places for the air to be un-breathable, I didn’t imagine that it would be in the city which had inspired so much poetry about its lush green beauty surrounded by blue mountains and bluer skies.
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