The Last Wednesday Before Spring

Brisk mustiness from the morning entered through the partially opened window. The humidity formed a heaviness in the air, sticking onto Mitra's skin as she lay in bed, restless from a sleepless night. Her tired eyes were dry, and her head throbbing.

Mitra rolled over and grunted. Ugh...

It was early. But her mind was still racing, and the pits of her stomach churning from yesterday's news.

Today was her last day as a scripter, and tomorrow she would be expected to stand the ranks as one of the town delegators.

Why me? Mitra thought to herself for the thousandth time.

What have I done that's so great to deserve such a responsibility?

What if I can't handle it or if I disgrace my family? I've already disappointed them enough.

Mitra had come from a family of harvesters, that for generations had been sowing the land to bear the fruit of their village. To her parents' dismay, Mitra wanted to carve a new path for herself, and convinced their neighbor to offer her an apprenticeship as a scripter for several years before they finally hired her.

"Our hands were designed to transform the dirt." Her parents would remind her with a scolding tone.

"The Earth provides for us, and we thank it by returning nourishment to the soil. How can you change what's in your blood, your destiny that nature has decided for you?"

*

The resonance from voices and carts outside grew increasingly louder.

The day was adrift.

I should get up. There's no point in attempting to catch any more sleep. At least let's start the day productively and say our proper goodbyes.

As Mitra entered the kitchen, she was greeted by the aroma of freshly brewed black tea with cardamom. There was an empty plate with bread crumbs and fig peels on the table. Her father must have already left for the fields.

At the front of the house, her mother was watering potted grass sprouts by the alter. Each Spring, her mother planted one pot of grass for each family member, to throw into the river for good luck in the New Year.

Mitra peered over her mother's shoulder.

"Bah, bah, bah! Your babies look good. They're growing pretty tall now." She teased her mother.

Her mother turned her head slightly to offer a glare from the side of her eye. She raised her eyebrows.

"Eat something before you leave. You need to make a good impression on your last day. You don't want them to take away your new opportunity."

"I'll be fine, I'm not hungry anyway. My stomach's hurting."

"Are you coming to the fire festival tonight? You have to for good luck. And to honor your aunt."

"Yes, I'll be there, don't worry."

Mitra quickly kissed her mother on the cheek and took off.

"Bye maman, I'll see you tonight."

She grabbed her bag and scurried out the door.

*

As Mitra walked down her street, she passed her old mentor's house and paused. He was tending to the plants in his yard before heading to work. Bright purple hyacinths were blooming by his porch, attracting bees and butterflies. The flowers reminded her of childhood, when she would pick them in the fields with her family during Springtime.

It took a couple moments before he noticed her standing in front of his house.

"Mitra, hello!" He put his sheers down and waved. "Congratulations! I heard the news. I can't believe that just a few years ago you were so young, studying under me. Who knew I would be the reason you became a delegator, running this town!"

"Good morning Mr. Hakimi! Oh, you heard already?"

"Yes, of course! Everyone knows. We're all so excited for you. It will be sad to see you leave, but we have such high hopes for you!"

"Thank you sir! See you at the fire festival later."

"Bye Mitra, good luck!"

Mitra continued walking to work, aggressively kicking the stones on the road around with her leather boots.

This was a nightmare.

She didn't know why they had selected as a delegator. It was a great opportunity of course. But was this something she even wanted to do? She didn't have any delegation experience. She hardly had any experience in anything.

Now the whole town knew and they had expectations.

*

At her workplace, her colleagues were a mixed bag.

"Congratulations Mitra! I'm so proud of you!"

"You better not forget about us!"

But there were certainly some mutterers.

"Who gave her a promotion? She's just a child."

"Have you heard, her family are harvesters? She's not even educated."

Mitra tried to ignore them. As she began clearing her desk, and putting away her scrolls, she found a small gold coin in one of the containers. Her aunt had given her this coin when Mitra had started the apprenticeship. She held up the coin to her face to get a better look. There was a tulip carved on one side, and the coin was a bit dented and dusty. She rubbed the coin on the bottom of her dress to clean off the dirt.

"The tulip represents prosperity and new beginnings." Her aunt had told her. Mitra's aunt was the only person who was proud of her for taking a chance on the scripter role, while the rest of her family shunned Mitra for betraying them in the fields.

Mitra's aunt always told her folktales about adventures and morals.

"Oh to travel to these lands Mitra. I can only imagine how exciting life would be."

Her aunt was a dreamer, but was forced to be a harvester like the rest of the family.

Mitra grew sad remembering her beloved aunt, and what she was unable to accomplish. Her aunt grew sick earlier that year and passed away without ever having the chance to leave their town.

"I have to do this for her." Mitra held the coin close to her heart and put it in her pocket.

Mitra gathered her things and said her final thank yous and goodbyes.

*

Mitra approached her new office building down the road. It was completely made of white stone, and reflected the afternoon sun into her eyes. She squinted and nervously knocked on the front door.

"Hello?" Her voice was cracking as she yelled. "It's Mitra, I'm here to bring my things! I'm starting work here tomorrow."

A tall older woman opened the door.

"Yes, come in. We've been waiting for you."

She guided Mitra to her new seating area. As Mitra passed by the desks of her new coworkers, she noticed how quiet it was. Everyone was so serious, so focused on their tasks.

"Here you are." The woman opened a door to a back room with a dusty desk.

"This is you. Someone will come with your assignment shortly."

Mitra reluctantly placed her scrolls down onto the table. She sunk into her new wooden seat, and felt the splinters brush against her legs. The room was so dark, with no windows. She would have to keep the door open to allow for natural light to come in.

"Hello." An older man about her father's age knocked on the wall.

"You must be Mitra. Nice to meet you. I'm Shapur, the town council urban planner."

Mitra looked up from her seat.

"Nice to meet you sir. Thank you for this opportunity."

"Of course. We have a very important role for you Mitra. You have been selected to help us with our new development project. As you might have noticed lately, our town is growing in population, and we need more buildings for housing and businesses."

"That makes sense. But sir, I don't have any construction experience." Mitra said shyly.

"Yes, however you do have harvesting experience. We have decided that the cheapest and closest places to begin expanding are on our local farms. You will be in charge of identifying and documenting the lands for the construction projects."

Mitra's pulse shortened. She couldn't think straight.

What about her parents? Where were they going to work? Or all the other harvesters?

"Sir, if we remove the farms, where will we get food from?"

"Well, we plan to start expanding trades with other towns." Shapur was quick to respond.

"What about the harvesters? Where will they work?

"They can find new lands in other places to harvest. It's not really a priority at the moment."

Mitra was baffled, she didn't know what to say.

"We're so excited to have you start on this very important project tomorrow Mitra. Do not let us down."

He smirked and walked out of the tiny room.

I feel so horrible. Mitra thought to herself.

How am I supposed to tell my parents? Or the other harvesters?

They may have to leave the town. Leave their homes that have been in their families for generations.

She pulled her aunt's gold coin out of her pocket and admired it in her palm.

I can't disappoint you too. What would you think of me?

Mitra slipped the coin back into her pocket and headed towards the orchards for the fire festival, the last Wednesday's eve before Spring.

*

As Mitra approached the top of a hill at the edge of town, she could see all the fields in the area. A bright orange light blanketed the crops. Barley plants glittered as the breeze turned them towards the setting sun.

She let out a sigh, knowing how much these fields meant to her and her village.

In the middle of the orchard, there was a large bonfire set by the town council, surrounded by many small fires lit by each family. Already, a group had formed a circle, holding pinkies and dancing around the large bonfire together. Musicians played cheerful songs about the New Year on the Setar and tambourine. Neighbors laughed and clapped, and sang along. The coming of Spring was the happiest time of the year.

Mitra looked around for her parents among the glowing fires and the dancers.

"Mitra!" Her mother's voice came from her left.

She spotted her parents at a section with their neighbors.

"Mitra! Wow it's our very own town delegate."

"The girl who made it. Our Mitra!"

"Hello. Good to see you." Mitra responded sulkily. Mitra passed hugs and kisses to her familiar neighbors.

"Mitra join us!" Her parents were standing by their fire reciting prayers and poetry with some friends.

"Oh fire take away my sickness and my woes from the year past. Bring me light and warmth in the coming Spring. Cleanse me of the old and bless me with luck in the New Year." They chanted.

"It's time." Mitra's parents gently grabbed her by the arms. "Let's jump over the fire for good luck this year."

Mitra's mother went first.

"My dear sister. May the fire leave your sickness behind, and may your spirit bless us with a healthy year."

She jumped, grabbing onto her skirt.

Her father went next.

"Dear fire, bless us with a good harvest, as you do each year. May this Spring be even more plentiful than the last."

He ran and leaped over, joining his wife on the other side.

My turn. Mitra thought.

"May you provide me with strength and guidance in my new beginnings."

Mitra closed her eyes and jumped over.

The celebration went on all evening. Mitra, her family and the rest of the town jumped over the fires over and over. They danced, they ate, they sang. Mitra couldn't have asked for a more blissful moment.

As the night grew later and the sun was fully down, the crowds began slowly trickling home and the energy of the festival calmed down. Mitra was sitting cross legged on the floor by her family's fire, wrapped in a woven blanket.

"Mitra, are you ready to go home?" Her parents asked, as they were finishing up goodbyes with friends.

"No, I think I'll stay for a bit." She looked at them with her wistful eyes, peeping from between the blanket layers.

Her parents glanced at each other for a second and nodded. "That's fine, just don't stay too late. We'll see you at home."

The orchard slowly emptied, as each family joyfully went home to sleep, excited for their New Year's fortunes. One by one the little fires were put out. The wind began feeding the cold front up and the fog rose into the crevices of the hills. Mitra's fire was the only one left besides the large bonfire, which would be extinguished the next morning.

Mitra waited, and watched her fire shrivel and get put out by the wind. It was just a stream of smoke now.

She got up and walked towards the large bonfire. It was still going strong, at twice her height. The hues of orange and red danced around and glowed with the surrounding mist. The fire's radiating warmth was comforting during this cold front.

Mitra pulled her aunt's coin out of her pocket. The reflection of the fire outlined the tulip carving into a crimson red.

She remembered a tale her aunt had told her when she was young. It was about a Prince, Siyavash, who walks through a fire to prove his innocence and to find his truth.

A gust of wind raised the flames higher and Mitra felt her aunt's energy.

Mitra tightly grasped the gold coin in her fist.

"Fire, may you show me my destiny."

She closed her eyes and took her first step into the flames.

____________________________________________

This story is based on the Zoroastrian and Persian celebrations of Nowruz (the New Year/Spring Equinox) and Charshanbeh Suri, where families jump over fires for luck and prosperity in the coming New Year.