Father lit the candles on the cake with trembling hands. His turbulent stomach was filled with fear and dread. Mother was full of tenderness these days, even as we were drowning in torment.
I was about to blow out the candles when I heard Majid’s hopeful voice in my ears: “First make a wish, then blow out the candles.” My wishes were colorless. I looked into my mom’s dead eyes that had begged Majid with all its existence. I closed my eyes and wished for togetherness in a free and democratic Iran, as envisioned by Majid and his friends.
I looked at the picture frame. My birthday was such a bitter day. The picture in the frame told the harrowing story of our absent loved one. My mother’s face was yellow with apprehension and despair. Her lips, overcome with distress, no longer smiled. How can they possibly torture such a mother yet call themselves the guardians of Islam?
Mother said with her quivering voice, “I don’t like this picture.” I immediately went into my room and retrieved an older picture to replace the one in the frame. The tears in my mother’s eyes moistened her dry lips, revealing a faint colorless smile. Her eyes told the story recounted in her soul.
“I wonder if my Majid has the ability to laugh right now? Does he even have the strength to sob?” I took her hand and replied, “Mother, Majid might be physically weak right now, but he has the courage of the indestructible Alborz mountain. He has the determined spirit of the immense skies above Iran.”
My dear Majid, we are all with you.
They wanted to silence your voice, but your powerful resolve transformed into a roar. Once again, you questioned these curators of Islam.
Know that now, we are your voice and the fifteen other Green friends. We vow to be with you heroes no matter where we are on this Earth. We are steadfast and united until you are free and with us in a Green and prosperous Iran.
My dear brother who means more to me than my life, God bless you.