Story 2 - Part 1: The Political Figure

My job was cotton picking and spinning. Some days I earned two thousand, some days just one toman. In the evenings, I would bring home one man of stone-baked bread and five seers of meat. But my wife, who had limited understanding, would always scold me at night, saying: “Go on, sit still, shake your body, spin cotton, and come home with your beard full of spider webs. Meanwhile, our neighbor, Haj Ali, who had nothing a year ago, is now becoming someone. He’s doing business and soon he’ll be a member of parliament with a monthly salary of one hundred tomans, a few small coins, and a lot of respect. But you, you fool, you just spin cotton. I wish your hat even had some wool on it!” Yes, my wife had a point. Haj Ali, barefoot and in his simple robe, had slowly become someone through his hard work and nonsense. His name appeared in the newspapers, where they called him a “Democrat.” He became a member of parliament, mingled with the king and ministers, and was highly respected. As for me, I had grown tired of this cursed job—the worst job of all. The sound of the loom and the bowstring had become unbearable, and every time I took the cotton spinner in my hand, it felt like holding the hand of a stubborn donkey. So one night, when my wife’s insults reached their peak, I made up my mind to slowly stop working with cotton and follow in Haj Ali’s footsteps. Fortunately, luck was on my side, and everything turned out just as I wanted. I don’t know what happened