The Time of Limbo!

I had stopped there where we came out of the building of the airport. To have a check please click here. I don’t know if you have ever had such of impression; belonging nowhere, yes, we were two nowhere man! We had a feeling we’d fallen into Limbo, no idea what would or ever could do. We had given away, and donated all we had, and got ready to leave Iran. Our books which were not a few; were spread among friends and family. Of course, we had actually no certain plan for the future. We knew that we would not back, at least for a long time. The first thought was to rescue our life, but now: what is next?

Al was a little more relaxed than me. He was more optimistic that it might get better, and he’d continue working as a writer, and he was about, may the regime would leave us alone to do our works. I understood him well. His style in Persian literature was extraordinary. It was a complete heritage from our father. What a pity he couldn’t do his genius works. But I wasn’t! I could still feel the pain in my ribs through an everyday getting beaten in the jail, but it was not important at all. I was more often in the society between people and knew this folk needed a long time to practice democracy. I knew that we are still free because of our father fame as a writer, (He has translated many Islamic histories from Arabic to Persian and wrote a lot of stories in his sophistical way).

When I got free from jail, one of the guards in the office took me by the side and told me that I was lucky to get free because the chairman there knew my father well and was a fan of him. But he advised me that there were not so many like this chairman. Therefore, it’s better I’d not appear here again! Yes, we had not to miss this little chance. Time ran fast, and we had to act faster.

We got a taxi and drove to our close friends, a couple whom I knew from the time when I was playing in the theatre. They were a nice pair and trustful friends. They were shocked, first when they saw we’re standing at the door. We had told them what happened and they tried to solace us. But I had to act immediately: first, to surprise my uncle and ask him to try to get us another exit permission.

Then, there was another problem, a big one; to get a new ticket to Germany. That couldn’t be so easy as I knew it. Because many peoples spiring to get out of Iran those days, and all needed a long time reservation to have a flight. Anyhow, I had to try it. After talking to my Uncle, I drove to the flight agency and told the woman behind the pane all the true story. She looked at me with her beautiful eyes, not in the way: what a crazy guy, but with a full understanding. “Here are two free sits for you, in about ten days, that is all I can do”, she said; and wished me good luck! I’ve felt somehow relieved and got back to our friends to tell Al and others about the happening.

I have also phoned my uncle to ask him about the permission. I knew he’d do his best, and he did it as well; he had found another connection which was a more reliable one this time, and he’d also suggested to me it might better to take my guitar with me.

That was an idea which I had once before our first try, to take my guitar, an old acoustic guitar, with me. Of course, for such an action, I needed permission too. In the rule of the Islamic Republic, the one who wants to take any musical instrument within any travel, he/she, had to prove the ability to play it! I passed the test and had a permit, but at that time, I renounced this idea because I was very nervous and didn’t want to be conspicuous. This time, my uncle thought that it might give me some gentle opinion by the transit police. A musician isn’t dangerous! I agreed and took my guitar with me. Anyway, we didn’t have any luggage with us, and it was not a bad idea, I could make some money in the earlier time in Germany.

Women’s day celebration in 87, I suppose. I sing Lennon’s Song: Woman.

I took my uncle’s suggestion by heart, I bought an old Guitar case from a friend and after making an appointment with the Travels Administration, I, accompanied by my cousin, (the oldes Son of my dear uncle), went there to get the new permits for our travel.

These ten days were an unforgettable time-lapse in my life. Al was cooler and enjoyed this as I was getting all things together. Our friends had helped us a lot to spend the time easier and finally, the time had come for the next try.

My cousin drove us to the airport, where we did not need check-in (no luggage!) and went directly to the gates. Those days were not such an advanced technique for body-checking like it is now. Therefore, every passenger one by one, had to pass through a small room for being examined by the transit police. We were still not sure, that with all papers and permits, if they’d allow me to keep my guitar. Therefore, we decided that I go first through the Gate, and if they reject my guitar, Al can give it back to my cousin. Oh yes, exciting and uncertain!

I have entered the room. There were two young men, just over twenty years old. I had to take off my jacket and empty my pockets. After that, one of them opened the guitar case, said; Wow! Do you play guitars? He took out the guitar and asked me to play a little! I took that from his hand and played some accords. He said to his colleague; look here, the good people going away from Iran, we are losing our artists, and turned to me saying; you will not come back, I know for sure! My heart was pumping crazily. I knew they were playing a dirty game, to make a fool of me that I might say something inappropriate. But I gathered my senses together and said what? Of course, I’d come back again. Why shouldn’t I? I would miss you guys!!


Puh! They let me gather my things and get through. Now I had to wait for Al to pass through, and he was faster out than I expected, but with some pale face, I wonder why? He just said; Fu…! He then told me that our cousin was restlessly asking him; has Aladin got it through? At this moment there was police near them and asked them at once; what the hell have you got through? They were shocked, of course, Al continued; and told the police it’s all about a guitar, but he didn’t want to believe it and said that he’d come after us and find out what we had smuggled! That was really Fu…!

Anyway, we walked through the corridors, got upstairs into the aeroplane, and sat in our place, only hoping no more new troubles. I think that my heart, as well Al’s, had never beaten so fast as in these minutes. We didn’t speak a word until the pilot, with his wonderful voice, said hello to us all and wished us a good flight, and we took off.

That was a story of an Escape from so-called freedom into real freedom? (I had to add this question mark because I am a little desperate right now!) And I hope it wasn’t so boring for you. Thank you for your all supports. 🙏💖🤗🙏💖


  1. Wow! Aladin, that was truly awesome and so worth the wait to hear the whole story of how you and Al both escaped Iran … and you with your guitar in hand! I mean, seriously wow!

    I felt breathless reading this … as my eyes were racing ahead! Thank goodness for your father’s excellent reputation and the kindness of the flight agency woman at the airport.

    What a story, my dear friend! Wow! You should write the book! Love and light, and bright Beltane blessings to you, Deborah.

    Liked by 2 people

    • That’s really a heartfelt compliment for me. You have sent me into the sky… Though, to put it bluntly, I would rather play on the stage instead of writing. By the way, I sent you a message about my dead comment, which I wrote from my heart, but your 100% insured blog kicked me out. I am sorry that I can’t repeat my feeling. your words are my prayer 🙏💖

      Liked by 1 person

      • That’s is the solution! I am such a idiot not to come on this idea 🙃, you know, you have prised me as a writer, I thank you heartily, but to writer is no so easy for me. Especially, when I write my whole heart out. Anyway, your post is wonderful and instructive, for soul and mind. 🙏🥰❤

        Liked by 1 person

  2. elainemansfield

    Phew! Whew! Deep exhalation. I can’t imagine the agony and fear of being in jail and being beaten and tortured. I’ve led such a sheltered life. Thank you for sharing this powerful story, Aladin. It makes me admire you all the more that, somehow, you survived despite desperation and more grief to come. Thank you and blessings to you.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I have such trouble reading these posts since I’ve never know anyone who has gone through such crazy hardships as you have, but I’m happy that at the end of the day you were saved by music (and some good familial connections). xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

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