Mahmoud’s Jacket
A Jar of Jam - Mahmoud’s Jacket
Mahmoud Chavoshi was a muscular handsome young man whose curly hair had made him more attractive. On the way to the frontline, there was a gap between arrival of the Mashhad train and departure of Tehran train, so we found an opportunity to wander around Tehran. Mahmoud bought a jacket, but it turned out to be tight for him. He laughed while giving it to me. “Here, it suits you well”, he said. Then, we went to Ahvaz for the operation and didn’t see each other. I went on a leave and went to my village to see my fiancé wearing Mahmoud’s jacket. T here wasn’t electricity in the village back then. I wanted to turn the pressure lamp on when the flame hit the jacket and burnt its sleeve. I was so grieved; I don’t know if it was for the jacket or missing Mahmoud who I got used to be in touch with. He popped into my dream on the same night. “Dear Mahmoud, I’m so sorry I got your jacket burnt”, I said. “I know. Don’t bother. This is the sign of me being martyred”, he replied. I told him that I don’t believe him. “In a few days, they are going to bring my body. I want you to be at my funeral”, he said. It happened so. Mahmoud went [from this world], but my memories of him still ignite in my heart from time to time along with the very flame which burnt the sleeve. It still .[suddenly blazes up and burns [my heart
