 | | The Blue Mosaic Vase
Through the sympathetic eyes of an impoverished orphan boy named Mohammad, "The Blue Mosaic Vase" explores the role of women bound by thousands of years of tradition in a land where sons are prized. Left with only the beautiful blue mosaic vase, a gift he once gave his mother, Mohammnad begins his quest for identity, love and belonging. And just as the fragile and intricate pieces of the blue mosaic vase fit together, so Mohammad's coming of age intertwines with the lives of these women, set against the ancient rhythms of Tehran's bazaar, the desolate mud-brick villages of Turn-of-the Century Persian, the impact of Islam upon their lives. Mohammad first explores his world in the footsteps of his mother, Pargol, victim of the bazaar's harshness and disease; next through his brother's child bride, Feredeh, bound by ancient religious tradition; and by the suffering of the harlot, Leila, shackled by hunger into a life that has few options. He experiences life within the dark, liquid eyes of his first love, Sherine, forced by the solemn promnise of her father to marry another; through his wife, the beautiful Amira, driven by gold and lust for one she cannot have; and from the pain of the little servant girl, Batool, imprisoned by her society and left with only one choice--to bury her disgrace in the murky waters of the jewb. Although disillusioned by the unfairness and cruelty that reign in his world, Mohammad is determined not to give up. His journey finaly leads him to the widowed village weaver, Najmeh, who brings real meaning to his life. Filled with love and compassion, yet free and unbound as the shifting desert sands that surround her village, she answers only to herelf. But will Mohammnad find the strength to break the bonds that bind him? He knows he must.
Tehran, Iran
1909
Although it was early morning, the air was already hot. A heavy mis rose from the murky waters of the jewb, a large stone ditch that ran alongside the dirt road, one of the few sources of water for the southern part of the city.
A woman dressed in a black chador twisted through the maze of dustry streets that comprised the ancient bazaar. Only her eyes, the same color as her body-length garment, showed through the small opening below her forehead. She carried a swathed bundle in her arms, clutched it to her bosom.
On a slight rise, she paused, w |
