A Night of Redemption

June 17, 2013

On June 15, 2013, one day after the 11th Iranian Presidential Election, as the sun was going down, our anxious eyes remained glued to the television screen. The Interior Minister announced the final result: "Hassan Rouhani." For a moment, we sat there, continuing to stare at the TV screen in awe and wonder, until somebody said: "It's over at last! What are you waiting for? Applaud!" It seemed like we could believe it now.

There was a quivering voice on the other side of the line: "Everyone is moving towards Rouhani's Haft-e-Tir headquarters, hurry up, come!" We put the deserted streets behind us, until we reached the Karim Khan Bridge. All the cars had their lights on, the traffic had taken a strange shape, and there was a deafening chorus of honking horns. "Reforms, Reforms, Victors of the Election!" At those very minutes, the traffic was gridlocked, it became impossible for the cars to move forward, and it appeared impossible to reach Haft-e-Tir. There were green lights and green laser beams moving all around the Karim Khan Bridge. The distant Greens, the hard Greens, appeared so near and so easy now. On top of the bridge, we could hear people shouting, the roar of jubilation.

I got out. Among the crowd, I found a friend who could drive. I gave him my car and joined the crowds of people who were moving towards Vali-e-Asr Avenue and Haft-e-Tir Square in groups, "...Salaam to Khatami/Salute to Rouhani!" I started moving toward Haft-e-Tir, camera in hand. There is no swearing this time. I am not fearful of wrath and captivity. I have come to register a victory this time, your laughter, not your tearful, tear-gassed eyes or your bloody shirt. There were a lot of police forces in front of the headquarters, controlling the crowd. One guy gave his camera to one of the police forces to take a picture of him and his friends. There was laughter, there were tears, and the protest song, "Yar-e-dabestani-e man" (my grade school friend). A few people started chanting, "Ya Hossein, Mir Hossein...." At first, the crowd did not chant along with them, I think they were afraid. It was a strange and ambiguous atmosphere.

I went to the pedestrian overpass, "...Ahmadi Bye Bye, Ahmadi Bye Bye..." After that widespread crackdown, I would have never imagined such an outpouring of people. On top of the bridge, there was no end to the crowd, ..."My martyred brother/I claimed back your vote..." Some were passing out pastries, and the city seemed to be unanimously shouting, "Ya Hossein, Mir Hossein," and "Mousavi, Karroubi, must be set freed..." My Iran is rejoiced in passion. It had nothing to do with green or purple, "...We are all together, green and purple..," and "Help from Allah and a near victory*...another May 23** was created..."  

My feet had found new strength. I had to register whatever I was seeing with my eyes, so that I would not forget it for years to come. The temptation of seeing what was happening in other parts of the city pulled me to Vanak Square. "Sir, Sir, take a picture of me, too!" Nobody is fearful of anything anymore. "I took my vote back...I'm showing off with it!" A big green cloth is changing hands and moving on, the world was orbiting around these people now. It was past12 midnight. People were dancing and stumping their feet in joy, full of joy. It's name is "hope" and nobody feels disappointed anymore. The police car's PA announced, "May God give you power," and "Imam Ali be with you," "happy celebration," and "more power to you!" The faithful people of my land were dancing on the streets pastmidnight. It was impossible to register all that it was. It was a night of redemption, a night of triumph, and I chanted along with others, "It is the spring of freedom, wished Neda were here."

*  نَصْرٌ مِّن اللَّهِ وَفَتْحٌ قَرِيبٌ From the Qoran
** Referring to May 23, 1997, the landslide election of reformist Mohammad Khatami.