Criticism! | Fars news

Life group: The little girl was sitting in the corner of the recliner and stomping her feet on the ground. His mother also carelessly folded her legs in her chest, draped a veil over her face and twirled the rosary.
I gave the girl smileys a few times so that she might calm down a bit, but it didn’t help, her screams got louder! I took out some chocolates from my bag and waved them to him, but there was no willow to shake in these winds.
I wanted to take out that imaginary needle and ampoule that was supposed to come out of women’s bags in the mosque and in the mosque and give it to us, so that maybe the girl would calm down. A lie, why am I not the man of this horror tunnel?
These motherly group discussions have also tied our hands and feet to judge and don’t let you even say in your heart, “What a shameless mother… God bless you.”
The women of Hayat are tired of the girl’s screams and cries and they are constantly looking at her. But he does his work without care.
At one point, an old woman gets up from the corner and comes towards me.
John’s daughter! What kind of child do you have? Vardar does not let his tiger out to make noise.
When I want to say that it is not my child, I bite my words and smile and say, “Chesh Haj Khanum!”
Suddenly a thought comes to my mind. I take out my handmade bracelet that was torn on the way a few minutes ago from my bag. I untie it and fall on the ground. The beads of the bracelet dangle in front of the girl and attract her attention.
He calms down and looks at the seeds under his eyes.
I say to him: “Would you like to make a bracelet together?”
Buddy blows in his stomach and says: “I know myself.” I always make Azina and…” He shows me a long list of his resume in the field of bracelet making.
I am convinced and leave the work in his little hands.
I look at her face and say: “Didn’t you say your name, little lady?”

As he throws the beads of the rosary into the thread, he says: “My name is Ruqiya!”
I smile and say what a beautiful name you have, Mrs. Ruqiya! Now tell me what you were crying for?!
He raises his head and looks into my eyes, as if I have renewed his sadness, he says angrily: “Because I want my father.” I want to go to my dad…”
I smile and say that he is not crying. When the fast is over, you go to your father with your mother.

The picture is decorative

His eyes fill with tears and he says: “It’s not my dad.” I don’t have a father. My father was martyred.”
The seeds of the bracelet are scattered on the ground from his hand.
My heart goes out to Harry. My body is hot. I can hardly swallow my anger. I’m left facing a small ruqiya, what can I say…
Once his mother’s attention is drawn to us. He starts apologizing when he sees the thread of the bracelet in the girl’s hand.
I immediately jump into his words and say: “The bracelet was torn, Mrs. Ruqiyeh has been wearing it all over since then.”
He smiles at me with his bloodshot eyes and says, Ruqiya is the master of these works.

Mother also comes to help us to thread the seeds. As he stretches his hand on the carpet to collect the beads on the floor, he says, “Ruqieh’s father was martyred a few weeks ago, Ruqieh has been making excuses since the first night of Muharram. Tonight, I took his hand and brought him here and said, “Imam Hussain (a.s.), you know yourself and the children of the martyrs!” There is nothing left of me…”
The girl throws the last seed into the rosary and tightens the knot with delight.
I take the bracelet and put it in his small fist and kiss his forehead. He jumps into my arms and says softly in my ear: “Auntie, let me tell you a secret.” I finally saw my father tonight. He went to the men’s section…”

Tonight I didn’t hear the sound of the pulpit nor the lamentation of the singer… after all, I had a critique myself.

Footnote: The girl’s father was one of the oppressed martyrs of Fatemiyoun brigade.

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