Shaayad shireen tareen shaftaalv-i-darakht
baashi
Imma barkhi az mardum shaftaalu dost nidarand
[It is possible that you are the sweetest peach of the tree
But then some people do not like peaches]
| I |
I first came across the short-lived Iranian writer Samad Behrangi (1939–1968) in Sibte Hasan’s classic work on the Iranian Revolution, Inquilab-i-Iran (1980). While describing the suffocating atmosphere under Reza Shah Pahlavi, Hasan noted how scores of Iranian writers and poets paid the ultimate price for dissenting against the Shah — by suicide, execution or outright murder. Behrangi was among these immensely gifted figures. He died on August 31, 1968, before he had reached the age of 30.
Behrangi was a teacher, social critic, folklorist, translator and short-story writer. He was born in the neighbourhood of Charandab in Tabriz, Azerbaijan province, on June 24, 1939, into a Turkish working-class family. Educated in Tabriz, he graduated from high school in 1957 and, in the same year, began teaching in the village schools of East Azerbaijan Province, approximately 50 miles south-west of Tabriz, a role he continued for 11 years.
Behrangi began writing short stories and translating from Turkish into Persian in the late 1950s. Influenced by Azerbaijani folk tales, he also translated many of them.
He was 29 when, in August 1968, he set out to collect his writings. He drowned in the Aras River, unable to swim. At the time, his most famous children’s stories, including Mahi-ye Siyah-i Kuchulu, his best-known work, were still in press. They were published posthumously. In 1969, other notable works such as 24 Sa’at Dar Khwab va Bidary and Yek Holu, Yek Hazaar Holu also appeared in print.
The book under review is an Urdu translation of Yek Holu, Yek Hazaar Holu, published as Aik Aroo, Aik Hazaar Aroo by Turkish translator Tahire Güne . This allegorical tale follows the fate of a peach seed planted by two children that grows into a tree.
The story traces the life of a barren peach tree, beginning when it is still a tiny fruit, a sad but exemplary tale contained within. The writer speaks so vividly in the voice of the peach that one feels, “He must have heard this from the peach itself.” As the narrative unfolds, the reader is led to ask: “Can I take a stance like this peach tree in the face of injustice?”
A voice must be raised for one’s rights, even if it is faint and fragile, like the cry of a swallow.
Things change quickly and as these changes are taken together and measured with care, one realises that nothing remains quite the same. Every peach that has the chance to grow ripens into something full and succulent. But those that falter, deceived by wolves, stunted before their time, can never develop fully in skin, flesh or seed.
The story itself is brief, though told through a layered and extended narrative. Set against the helpless condition of the Iranian Azerbaijani people and the oppression they endured, it raises a stark question: when does it make sense to pick up a pen rather than a gun against fascism? This seemingly small tale, which reflects an entire struggle, stands as tall as the Himalayas.
The narrative is spontaneous and bold: bold in the sense that what appears to be a children’s story was in fact written to awaken revolutionary and rebellious thought in adults. As the translator notes in her foreword, in rendering the story into Urdu, she aimed not only to respect the rules of the language but also to ensure that its central idea and meaning were not lost.
On the surface, this is the story of a peach. In reality, it is the story of a man, a man bound to his soil, who gives it all he can. But when life becomes unbearable, it is incumbent on him to withhold his labour.
Where an oppressor strides arrogantly, the oppressed should not agree to an existence like lifeless symbols of despair. They must rise and confront. Bowing the head is not always humility, nor does such humility bring rewards. A voice must be raised for one’s rights, even if it is faint and fragile, like the cry of a swallow.
This is a book suited to both children and adults, and one that should be read by people of all ages. Alongside its heart-touching tale, it carries layers of meaning and messages, much like the writer’s other work that draws on the world of fairytales.
The story has been faithfully and skilfully translated into Urdu, in a style that is simple and accessible. Readers of Urdu will take pleasure in it, and it will serve them well.
In the end, the reader is left with the force of its final lines. The little heroine is imbued with defiance, a defiance that must also have stirred in Samad Behrangi himself as he swam to his untimely death on that fateful August day.
“Who knows how many years have passed since then. The gardener has failed to obtain even a single peach from me. And he will be unable to obtain even in future. I do not comply with his desires. He can make a futile effort in intimidating me with his saw.”
Aik Aroo, Aik
Hazaar Aroo
Author: Samad Behrangi (Translated by Tahire Güne )
Publisher: Emel
Publications, 2025
Pages: 64
The reviewer is a critic, translator andresearcher.He iscurrently translatingAbdullah Hussein’s novella Qaid intoEnglish.He may be reached at razanaeemhotmail.com. He tweets raza_naeem1979