On 17 March 1985 we were summoned to the council room for a meeting with Sister Tahereh, masoul of the society. We were surprised. It was Wednesday and council meetings were held on Fridays. I thought the extraordinary session must be to discuss the public meeting we were to hold on the next day to celebrate the Iranian New Year.

            Our council room was a narrow, austere place. The only furniture was a large rectangular table flanked on both sides by two long benches which were so uncomfortable that before each meeting we would all scramble for a seat by the wall so that we could ease the back-ache brought on by our usual lengthy sessions.

            Once all twelve or thirteen members of the council were present, someone brought tea and biscuits. “Let’s eat something sweet, I have very good news for you,” said Sister Tahereh. Obviously something important had happened. Perhaps there had been a victorious operation inside Iran; perhaps Khomieni had died, perhaps . . . As our minds ran quickly through the possibilities, Tahereh stood up to read the message she had brought with her. Then her deputy got up as well, a clear signal for us to follow suite. We all stood to attention like soldiers, listening intently. “In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful. In the path of God and the people, willingly and with satisfaction, we have accepted an ideological and organisational imperative, which is the will of God and the Iranian people’s new revolution. Observing all religious customs and requirements . . . we have decided to marry each other. Signed: Maryam Rajavi and Masoud Rajavi.”

             In a very loud voice, Sister Tahereh said “MOBARAK BASHAD” (congratulations) and started clapping. Unable to understand what was going on, we joined in. There was a deathly silence. “What’s happened?” asked Sister Tahereh. “Why are you all as stiff as planks? Don’t you have anything to say?” She turned with a questioning look to her deputy Fazeleh who had obviously already heard the news, and then rapidly focused on the person sitting next to her and demanded to know what he thought. As confused and stunned as the rest of us, he smiled limply and said: “Well I don’t know what’s going on, but since Brother Masoud has made this decision, I am sure it is very good news.” “Won’t you offer your congratulations?” she said. “Well of course,” he replied and with the smile still fixed on his face he said “congratulations” loudly. “Have you any questions?” she asked. “Excuse me, who is Sister Maryam Rajavi?” came his rather foolish response. Tahereh laughed even louder and said: “Don’t you know? Sister Maryam Rajavi is co-leader of our organisation.” He swallowed hard: “But Sister Maryam Azodanlu was…”Tahereh finished his sentence for him: “the wife of Brother Mehdi (Abrishamchii).” He said, “Yes” She laughed again: “Why are you stammering? Why has your face gone white? Has something snapped in your mind? Have your male prejudices been offended? Don’t worry. No religious principles have been violated, they divorced a few weeks ago, before this news was announced.” She was silent for a few moments. Then she asked him if he still wanted to offer congratulations. “Well, I still don’t understand, but yes, of course, congratulations, many congratulations.”

            Before asking the next member what he thought, she read the message again. “Of course congratulations are in order,” he said. “I’m sure that whatever decision the organisation makes is for the good of the people and the revolution.” Then she put the same question to all the council members, one by one. Some offered their congratulations without hesitation. Others, less cautiously, protested that they had not understood the news fully, but would still congratulate the newly-weds. The more conservative elements like me said: “I don’t know, I will have to think about the news to understand it fully.”

            Then Tahereh read us a message from the politburo and the central committee. It was very long and because I was sitting on the bench that had no support, I had to stand up every so often to rid myself of back pain. It began with a sentence from the Quran, “Those who relay messages of God, and are afraid of God, and are not terrified of any body except God. And this is enough to consider God as sole judge and the one who paves the way.” Then came the usual opening passage of Mojahedin communiqués, only this time in addition to ‘in the name of God and the heroic people of Iran, in the name of martyred Mohammed Hanif-Najad [the founder of the organisation] . . . ’ the politburo had added, for the first time, ‘in the name of Maryam and Masoud Rajavi’. The only living people who had ever in the past been named in the title of Mojahedin messages were Khomieni and Taleqani.

            The message continued with a long list of Rajavi’s achievements: how he had saved the organisation from a Marxist coup in 1975, how he had fought against right and leftwing tendencies in the organisation, how he fought Khomieni and revealed his true nature to people. We had believed that all important organisational decisions has been made collectively, but we were now told that it was Masoud who founded our militia, it was he who stood up to the Tudeh party’s sedition, carried out in the name of the fight against ‘liberals and reactionaries’, and had chosen the correct tactics against them, while other organisations fell into the Tudeh’s trap and lost everything, It was he who had reorganised the Mojahedin over the past two years and had stood against those who wanted to destroy them … . The message declared that: ‘while the organisation was scattered around the world and under immense pressure, under the shadow of Masoud’s leadership we were saved from splits … and became more united than ever.’ The signatories of the letter claimed on behalf of the members that: “we in the organisation laugh at those who accuse us of hero worship, and look at them as a wise man looks upon the foolish’. A few sentences about Masoud’s personal sacrifices followed. He was the first Mojahed to have volunteered for a ‘suicide mission’, only to be rejected by the organisation; it was he who, in prison under the Shah, had inspired his fellow prisoners to resist their gaolers, and it was he who had inspired thousands of Mojaheds to go to prison and to accept martyrdom in the fight against Khomieni.

            Masoud was also portrayed as a champion of women’s rights. It was as a result of his leadership that the Mojahedin had appointed Maryam as co-leader, the highest position a woman could gain within a revolutionary organisation. The message went on to say that, “Mehdi Abrishamchii and Maryam were in love and had no problem in their marriage, but they volunteered to divorce in order to pave the way for the union of Masoud and Maryam. The marriage had been advised by the politburo and central committee in order to deepen the ‘great ideological revolution’ and to avoid the ‘difficult contradictions’ between the leader and co-leader, who, although ‘NA MAHRAM’, [an Islamic term for those who must not touch or see each other] had to work closely with each other. Their joint leadership without marriage would have been ‘mere bourgeois formalism’. Had Masoud not been divorced from his wife, the Mojahedin would have had no option but to accept the disadvantages of the joint leadership of the unmarried Masoud and Maryam. But since Fyrozeh Banisadr, Masoud’s previous wife, had divorced him there was no reason for the organisation to deny itself the advantages, which could be gained by this marriage. The idea was inspired by a sentence from Quran about the marriage of the Prophet Mohammed to the recently divorced wife of his adopted son. Furthermore, although Mehdi and Maryam had made a supreme sacrifice by divorcing while they were still in love, Masoud had, in accepting this marriage, made even greater sacrifices. His was described as ‘much more than a heroic action … Had Masoud not been able to accept this marriage, he would have demonstrated that he did not have the capacity to lead the organisation

            We realised from the message that this incident is going to happen just once and only on the top of the organisation.

            Hence there was no need for us to worry that we are not married to those whom we were working closely every day!

The last remark dispelled my disquiet as it assured me that nothing is going to happen to my own marriage. Since my return to the society I had trained myself not to think much about organisational relations and news. They were of relevance to me only if they affected my daily work. But when Sister Tahereh first announced the marriage I was deeply concerned. By this time I knew perfectly well that sex, love and marriage meant little to the organisation. I thought that it might have decided to order couples to separate and re-marry whenever the organisation believed that the change would serve its interests. If it had, what would happen to my own marriage and my relationship with Anna?

             I was almost sure that Tahereh would turn to me first for a reaction to the Politburo’s message and I had to find something to say. I was right. “Well,” I began, “I’m now in a position to offer my congratulations. I now understand that this is one of those rare and unusual actions taken by those who are vanguards of the people to open a new way and direction for the evolution of mankind.” Then I offered few examples. I was ignorant of the example given in the message about the Prophet, but it didn’t matter. I repeated it and added the examples of Imam Hussein’s departure from Mecca during the Hajj (it was customary to stay there during the pilgrimage), and the story of Ashab Kahaf, who went with a dog (which is ‘NAJASS’, dirty) to a cave and slept there for hundreds of years as a result of which the dog was blessed. These examples saved not only me, but others who had to speak after me.

            Having found adequate logical and religious reasons for the marriage I decided that I didn’t need to think about it any more. But how naive and childish I was. This news was just marked the beginning of a new era in the organisation called the ‘ideological revolution’.

            While Tahereh was reading the message, her deputy Fazeleh had been crying hard. Her tears astonished us, but they did not seem to trouble Tahereh. Once she had finished asking us about our understanding of the message, she turned her attention to Fazeleh who started saying things that were utterly strange to us. I wondered how on earth she could learn so much from the message, and how stupid I could be. Still weeping, Fazeleh explained how the divorce and marriage had changed her completely and launched into a catalogue of unreserved self-criticism. Fazeleh, who could never acknowledge even her most obvious mistakes, was suddenly telling us about her most secret wrongdoings. She spoke of her selfishness and her pride and how they had affected everyone in the organisation.

            When her confession was over, Tahereh, showing no mercy or affection, said to Fazeleh: “but you know that you are still far from a complete revolution and from changing into a new person. You know that you still have long way to go and will have to work very hard . . . ’ We wondered what she meant. For the first time I felt pity for Fazeleh. I had often disliked her for selfishness and pride, but I never wanted to see her humiliating herself in front of us all. If I could, I would have hugged and kissed her as my sister and praised her courage and modesty. I was still thinking about her when Tahereh looked at us and said: “You, all of you, have to revolt as well, you all have to kill your old self and become a new person. Either you revolt and change yourself completely or you leave the organisation …” From now on our only concern would be to forget everything else and think and dream about the ‘ideological revolution’. Our immediate task, she said was to go away and think and then write a report about our past, or as it was code-named, our ‘old’ self. That evening the same scenario was repeated, this time at a meeting for all members where another sister, a council member, criticised herself publicly.

            I realised that something serious was afoot which would change everything in the organisation and I was no longer at ease. But I couldn’t imagine what it might be. I couldn’t relate the changes in Fazeleh to the news of Masoud’s marriage, and the more I tried to solve the puzzle, the less I was able to understand it. When Anna asked me to help her to understand I had to admit that I was bewildered and told her that she would have to rely on her instinct: ‘apparently this revolution is about the freedom of women,’ I said, ‘perhaps as a woman you will be able to understand it better than me.’

            Over the following weeks, it was rare to see anyone with a smile on their face or to hear laughter. At our New Year celebrations the next day our supporters had staged a comedy. Many of the audience were laughing. But whenever I looked around, I could see those who were members of the organisation deep in thought with a bitter smile on their lips, which did not hide their sad faces.

            We no longer worked very hard. Our supporters did much of the SW work and almost all the cooking. Those of us who tried to work made so many mistakes that the job usually had to be re-done. I found it very difficult to be myself anymore; the hardest part of my job was being responsible for ten to twenty supporters. I had to look after them, keep them cheerful and answer their questions . . . How difficult was to behave normally and be cheerful, encouraging and understanding whenever I had to visit their base? I guess only God knows it.

            One night after returning from the supporter’s base, I was told that another council meeting had been called. I soon discovered that this was not a council meeting but the first of a great many bizarre gatherings that came to be known as ‘revolutionary meetings’. When I arrived, I saw that Anna and few other sisters were present. The men sat along one side of the room and the women along the other with Sister Tahereh in the middle. Everyone was crying hard including the young man, a council member, who was talking loudly about his sex life. Sex was a great taboo for us and in the past we had never spoken of it except to our masoul, and especially not in the presence of ‘sisters’ in a public meeting. But no one was trying to stop him. He was admitting that he was attracted to Sister Tahereh. I couldn’t believe my eyes or ears. I could never imagine, still less accept, that any of us men had sexual feelings towards our ‘sisters’, not only because of the strict morals observed in the organisation, but also, to be honest, because of the way they dressed and their behaviour, which was much rougher than any man. But he seemed to be serious and honest.

            When he finished another member jumped from his seat, rushed towards him and slapped him hard in the face. He showed no reaction although his loud crying continued, as it had throughout his confession. A satisfied, affirmative smile appeared on Tahereh’s face. She told him to sit and asked him to write down what he had said later. Then she looked at me.

            “Why are you so surprised? Do you think you’re better than him? You’re worse, each one of you is worse than the other.”

            She asked me if I had any thing to say. I replied that I had written whatever there was to say down for her. I said this honestly as I had recently given her a report containing all my secrets, including my thoughts when I saw the videotape of Yaghobie, my feelings when I was not member of the council and….

            “Rubbish! You have said nothing, what you have written is naïve and childish. Many simple members and even supporters, who have no need for this revolution, have criticised themselves more severely than you … you have to work very hard … do you know that Anna has revolted and has gone further in the revolution than you?”

            She knew where to point her arrow and she did it skilfully. She knew how much I am in love of my wife and how worried of loosing her. If Anna had revolted and I had not, then she would remain in the organisation and I would have to leave. It would mean loosing everything, including my private life and my dear wife. Looking back I think that this was what she wanted to hear from me, but I could not see it at the time. I just sat there trying hard to search my memory for something untold about myself that would be accepted as a revolutionary revelation.

As soon as Tahereh felt that I was desperate to revolt, she left me alone and asked another man about his revolution. He started to talk about his wife and tell us how he was humiliating her. When he let drop that she was bony, Tahereh’s face clouded with anger. She stopped him.

            “What a pity your wife is not here, otherwise I would ask her to give you a few slaps.” She looked around. “Are none of you zealous enough to teach him a lesson and give him few slaps? But why should I bother asking? You’re all alike. You all think of women as a sex toys.” Then she ordered one of the younger members, who were supervised by the man who was confessing, to stand up and slap his face as hard as possible. He obeyed.

            As people got up one after the other to make their confessions, Tahereh watched my reactions and from time to time directed remarks at me. Soon I was no longer myself. My temperature seemed to rise and I was unable to think. I was desperately embarrassed. It was as if I was sitting there naked with everybody watching me. Tahereh pounced: “What’s happening Masoud? Is your icy logic melting away? You always thought you were clever and talented! Do you see your real self now? Do you see that when it comes to ideology you’re just dumb?” She was right; at that moment I was like a two year old. All my logic, all my powers of understanding, all my facility with words were gone. I wished I had something to tell her, that I could confess that I was attracted to a woman. Anything. That way I could save myself. But the harder I searched my memory for some untold offence, the less I could recall.

            Tahereh asked me yet again whether I had anything to say. Suddenly I began to cry loudly. My words were garbled, but I was begging her not to throw me out of the society, I was telling her that I couldn’t live alone, and would rather kill myself. I was talking about my childhood and how lonely I felt without my mother and how painful it was, and how terrified I had always been of loneliness. I could feel and see everybody, including Anna, watching me strangely and perhaps with pity. At the time, I only could see myself in that pathetic situation, while every body else if not worse than me were almost in the same awful situation.

            She stopped me and asked me not to do anything but to think and write.

            You have to burn, die, and born again!

            A few days later we received a videotape of the New Year’s celebrations at the Rajavi residence. There were almost 200 people present. The first to speak was? Reza’i, the mother of five martyred children

            “When I was summoned to a gathering to receive important news, I thought I would hear of another martyrdom, this time of my youngest son, Mohammed. I was preparing myself to say ‘God bless him’… When I was told of the marriage of Masoud and Maryam, my heart almost stopped, I moved violently . . . I blamed myself for not having the same power of sacrifice as they have. Five of my children have been martyred, I can see all of them in the existence of Masoud, I want to congratulate you Masoud and Maryam and Mehdi, for your ability to sacrifice . . . ”

             When she had finished Masoud got up. He spoke first at length about the history of the organisation, under the Shah, during the revolution and under Khomieni. How correct the organization’s prediction about people and events has been in different juncture. He said: “Divorce and Marriage!? Is madness, amazing, radical, imprudent and unwise, this is like many other actions of Mojahedin, like when we stood against Khomieni, while everybody was advising us to compromise with him. Like when, against advice of many, we met the foreign minister of Iraq in the same place as we are now. Today you are astonished again, it is like pouring boiling water at high pressure onto our head! Yes that is right, this was some sort of experience for testing you all, as we want to have steel. we are looking for new standard of power and capacity and work. Every body including our far-reaching supporters has to be cleansed of all reactionary tendencies and demagoguery. If you are in, you have to make it clear with firstly yourself then with the organisation. . There are many who claim they have feeling for people and freedom and independence of our country, but how can it be measured? Yes it can be measured according to the level of sacrifices of each person. Yes organisation has been shaken violently. We want to prepare ourselves for next ten years. If we do, then we are prepared about what we have in front of ourselves in next two years, namely overthrow of Khomieni regime. Those Mojahedin members who pass through this furnace, are more steadfastness, more steel like person, and have more future in the resisting . . . .” Then he showed two wedding rings, the rings that had belonged to Maryam and Mehdi Abrishamchii, and said: “These are the most complete and highest symbol of sacrifice. Can any heart see these rings and not weep? . . . Pity to you if you put any price for those rings. can you put any price for feelings and love?.”

            He then began to discourse on the freedom of women. “As long as even one woman remains in (the) prison (of her sex), all men are in prison too. The freedom of women is the freedom of the whole society.’’ “Whatever has happened,” he continued, “is not Maryam’s problem or mine. It is everyone’s problem. You all have to have answer for it.” Then he read few sentences from the Quran about the story of Mary and the marriage of the Prophet to the divorced wife of his adopted son.

            Soon it was Mehdi Abrishamchii’s turn to speak. He began by congratulating Masoud and Maryam, “with all my cells, skins and blood vessels …” . Then he said: “if it were not for Masoud, we would all have strayed and deviated and have been lost for ever … I wish each one of us had hundred lives to sacrifice in their path, not just one.” Then he referred to Masoud’s past sacrifices, adding that “whenever I met Masoud, I would wonder what kind of sacrifices are left for him? Not execution, nor torture are entanglement or hard for him, as he has seen them all in the prison. On June 20 he prepared us all for another ‘ASHURA’, (all of us being killed like Imam Hussein and his followers). He lost his wife, and enemy captured his child, he had to marry his last wife to keep Banisadr in the NCR, and then to divorce her. When this [marriage to Maryam] was suggested to him, I found my answer, he had to face the allegations and malicious accusations of counter-revolutionaries. But that was not all.” Then he faced the crowd and said: “OK be honest, say what passed in your heart? Did you understand what has he done? Did you not curse him? Did you not swear at him? Did you not want to kick him? Be honest, tell the truth. Be courageous, say what you thought. Then you can know yourself. . . . I know you will start to cry, you feel you are going to be forced upside down, this is an ideological move, we all have to pass through this furnace and melt away all our filthy parts, moving forward and leaving them behind. Then we can find ideological brightness. Then all will become true members of the Mojahedin. “

            Everyone wept as he spoke, including many of those watching the videotape. As usual Tahereh surveyed us carefully for our reactions. When Abrishamchii’s speech was over one of the ‘sisters’ stood up and said: “I know what discipline is and I respect it. I know I am not supposed to speak just now. But after hearing Masoud and Mehdi I felt a storm well up inside me and I can’t keep myself quiet.” Then she began to read a poem: “I am a sparking light, a flash from the storm, I am a storm, a storm in all of you, Maryam you have created a storm. Before [the wedding] that I was a small bush, but I broke my surrounding, as I was not able to be placed there any more. You are like sun, and I am like a spark radiant from you…” As she read her poem the crying got louder.

Ideological Revolution, a prevention for internal outcome of military and political defeats.

            While we were deep in the battle with ourselves, or as Moslems call it ‘JIHAD AKBAR’ (the great holy war), our external war was on the rise as well. Apart from our fight with the regime, which by now was mostly in Kurdistan, we were locked in a political battle with ‘anti-revolutionaries’ and leftist organisations outside the country. The newspapers published by the Iranian community in exile, were all discussing the marriage. Some made a joke of it, others condemned it as ‘immoral’, ‘dishonourable’ and ‘shameful’. Even leftist groups, who were supposed not to care much about Islamic values, criticised the Mojahedin in exactly the same terms. They also, because of the recent support of members of the United States Congress for the organisation, accused us of collaborating with imperialism – the same imperialism, as they reminded us, that we had been so much against in the past.

            On another front, after a series of defeats in Kurdistan, the Kurdish Democratic Party of Iran, and the Mojahedin who had fought alongside them had to withdraw from almost all the cities and most of the villages under their control to the Iraqi side of the border. Of course Mojahed spoke of the heroic actions of our combatants in different skirmishes without much emphasis on the outcome. We were not told the worst. As a result of its defeats the KDP opened peace talks with the regime and for the first time in November 1984 we saw an item in Mojahed questioning the KDP’s action. In our view it was outrageous for a party to be a member of the National Council of Resistance and at the same time to enter negotiations with the regime. Only a few months had passed since the revelation of Banisadr’s letter to Khomieni that had ended in his expulsion from the NCR. Hence we could sense that the end of the coalition with the KDP was near as well. Their own claim was that, as a local organisation which has control of part of Kurdistan, it was their duty to negotiate the safety of ordinary people with the enemy as much as to fight with them. But the Mojahedin insisted that: “between us and the regime there could only be a river of blood” Eventually, in April 1985 the NCR issued a resolution warning the KDP to break off its talks with the regime or be expelled from the council. They chose to leave. Following them a few smaller organisations and personalities resigned for different reasons, including the Mojahedin’s ideological revolution and except for a few personalities and the National Democratic Front which was represented by Dr. Matine Daftary (the grandson of Dr. Mossadeq), and a few members of one of the off-shoots of Feda’ian which called themselves by the same name, in reality the NCR meant the Mojahedin and their supporters. It was obvious to anyone but us, supporters of Mojahedin that politically we had failed to create the broad coalition Rajavi had promised: the sole reason for his presence abroad and his ‘heroic departure’ from Iran.

            Well we didn’t mind much about the splits nor about naming or cursing different people and organizations under different titles and slogans. Among ourselves we knew, and would repeat to each other, that the NCR was Masoud’s means of working on the political scene in Europe and America and nothing more, a product of his political art. Its main use was to deceive and fool the Americans and Europeans so that they would not think about us as the same Mojahedin who were responsible for assassinating American citizens in Iran or coining violent slogans against imperialism. We were part of a national alliance with a liberal and democratic appearance and programme. As Masoud had said in different circumstances, it was the Mojahedin and their supporters who had shouldered all the work and hardship of the resistance. So getting rid of unwanted partners was a cause for celebration, not grief as it set us free of different tendencies and the need to share power with people who ‘did nothing for the revolution’. As one of the masouls put it, “it is good to get to know these people while we are still fighting tyranny. If they were to wait for victory to show their real face, God knows what kind of price we would have had to pay for their split. So in a way we have to thank God that we did not succeed in overthrowing the regime earlier.”

Our sole concern: the ‘Ideological revolution’.

            By then, the ‘ideological revolution’ had accomplished its task. Not only did we pass over our military or political failures, but we were happy that we were unsuccessful since we were now able to see the real face of our friends in the coalition.

            Because in those days I was in charge of SW in London and every member had to work on SW for at least two days a week, I was in contact with many young men and women who were not under my direct command. Every night whoever had spent a day on SW had to report to our base, hand over the income they had raised, stay for dinner and attend our nightly meeting about our work.

            While everyone else slept, my deputy and I stayed up to plan for the next day, deciding which areas to assign to people and, with the help of another colleague, preparing the bags, which contained the material, they needed for their work, and their lunch. I was under great pressure to raise money, but few members could work properly. They were all so deeply involved in the ‘ideological revolution.’ I slept very little. At night I did the planning and preparation, and in the mornings I did not go on SW myself, I would monitor our teams work or look for new areas to cover. I also had to see our supporters and talk with them. By now they all knew about the ‘ideological revolution’ and had many problems and questions to which I could give no proper answer. I was breaking from within; but I had to keep up appearances. Only when I was alone in the base answering the telephone calls from our teams could I be myself. Then I could pity myself, and even cry for myself. I was paralysed and desperate. I didn’t know what to do or say to save myself from my misery. For me love and marriage were so natural and part of my life and myself which I never could see, this is the area which I should think about it and write about it.

            Once I was called to our main base where I was offered sweets, a cup of tea and words of congratulation. ‘What now?’ I wondered. ‘What kind of news do they have for us this time?! Soon I learnt that, brother Mehdi Abrishamchii had married the sister of Mussa Khiabani although only a few weeks had passed since his divorce. I had come to hate the word congratulations and the false smiles that went with it. But I controlled myself and did what was required. By now I knew what love and marriage meant in the Mojahedin and could see how far my emotions and my thinking were from the organisation’s requirements.

             Perhaps deep down my strong feeling about this news was due to this fact that I could see myself in his position. “What if they were to ask Anna to separate from me and marry somebody else and then ask me to marry one of the sisters?” After all, Anna had had her ideological revolution and I was still struggling to follow her. I was not going to our rest base any more and every night, even on Sundays, I slept in the work base. The truth is that I was not able to face Anna. I didn’t know who she was any more. Perhaps the ideological revolution had changed her so much that we could not live together. Perhaps she didn’t love me any more? . . .

            I was also ashamed that I had not had my own ideological revolution. In those days, Mojahed was full of members’ accounts of their ‘revolutions’, which I would read anxiously to find a direction for my own. But far from helping some of these added to my confusion. For example, Mansur Bazargan an old member of the Mojahedin, wrote that the impact of the news on him was greater than the news of 1971 when all the founders of the organisation were executed, or the news of 1975 when a Marxist coup in the organisation had caused a major split. “With this news,” he wrote, “all my blasphemies and class tendencies were burned. . . . . Masoud if for following and helping you they kill me and burn me, and then they give me life again, and if they repeat this a hundred times, I will not stop supporting and following and helping you. . . . .” It was like the words of one of the followers of Imam Hussein before Ashorra. But what did it mean? How could I get help from such idealistic wordings? Other statements were very simple and poetic, but still couldn’t show me any kind of mechanism for revolting. Sister Ronak Ali-Najad wrote: “I have a head ache, a very bad head ache, so painful that I feel I will only rid myself of it by crying hard. I feel I want to cry, I feel this room, house, city, everywhere is so small for me. I want to fly and find new love. I want to be host to a new person, the one who has destroyed my quiet and easy life. My eyes cannot see properly, I don’t know what am I writing. I know only that you, Maryam, are my ideological symbol. Tears are running from my eyes, everything blurs in front of them. I am revolting from within. I feel if I don’t write for you I will explode. . . . Let me please! Let me burn myself in your holy fire! Let me burn the monster of darkness in the fire of my own body! the one, which has darkened our country and has swallowed us all in pain and suffering … let me Maryam sacrifice myself for you and Masoud! You are the symbol of a nation in chains. . . . accept my desire to burn for you, for if you do not, I will burn every day for as long as I am alive.” Another sister wrote: “Dear Maryam I swear to God that, with all my existence I could feel that your path is the path of all messengers of God, from Abraham to Moses, to Jesus the sprit of God. . . . you are the one who are breaking unbroken knots and complexes. You are breaking the death locks … I am sure that it is not us but future generations who will understand you and worship you for what you did . . . .”

            Not only was I far behind my fellow Mojaheds, I was even incapable of seeing things which could be understood by foreigners. I reached this conclusion when I read a letter to Maryam from a French woman: “For me the Mojahedin were always not only an Iranian organisation but an international one, as the divine message which inspires this organisation is for all human beings . . . fighting against Khomieni and for the destruction of his regime is a means of uprooting reactionary cultures ways of thinking everywhere. The same kind of thinking which in different degrees exists in all human beings. This system doesn’t recognise the freedom of choice for women and thus denies them all human rights. This system of thought wants to change women into sex objects and merchandise … This system stands against the evolution of mankind, and by chaining women, wants to stop mankind reaching freedom and a monotheistic society. . . . this is why the Mojahedin’s Ideological revolution is not limited to the boundaries of Iran and has universal dimensions … Dear sister Maryam for me you are an infinity, you are the beginning and the end. You are the fruit of a holly tree flower, a tree which has its roots very deep in the earth, as deep as history of suppression of millions of unknown women in the entire history of mankind … But as God has given the power of birth to any flower, you are the fruit of that flower, and today this fruit, which has benefited from the sun [of knowledge] will be born in the spring (like many flowers and fruits born in the spring after darkness and cold of winter ).”

            ‘Everyone must revolt ideologically. Whoever does not cannot call himself a Mojahed” This was the slogan of the day, written in large print and were hung in many living rooms in our bases. Nobody could escape from this ‘revolution’. As our base was the largest in London, each week for one, two, or even three days, as we had to prepare it for ‘revolutionary meetings’. When meeting were held everything was put on hold – no work, no SW, no cooking and even no sleep for day or two. The meetings were no longer limited to members of the council. They were compulsory for all members of the society and not even illness could save one from attending. Our meeting room was large enough for thirty to forty people but sixty to seventy people would gather there, sometimes for a few days. Sitting on the flour was itself a kind of torture and on top of that there was only one toilet and almost no resting time. But the physical miseries of those gatherings were nothing compared to the mental pressures.

‘Ideological leadership’

            At times a guest member of the Mojahedin would attend our meetings. For example once Mohsan Reza’i was our guest. In the speech he delivered he mostly emphasised the importance and special position of the leadership that is Rajavi, in the organisation. He began by asking us, one by one, starting from me: “If all members of the organisation, including Mussa Khiabani if he was alive, decide on something, and Rajavi decides otherwise, who should we follow? The majority, or the ideological leadership …?”By now I knew perfectly well that Masoud’s position in the organisation, was like that of the Imam for the Moslems. The answer should be, ‘we would follow him!’ But it contradicted my own ‘liberal view’. So I answered, “I would follow him but I would ask him for an explanation!” “What if he refuses to give an explanation?” “Well I would accept, his word, but a seed of doubt would be sown in my heart, so if the scenario were repeated, the seed might grow and end with me refusing his words, or being forced to leave the organisation.” When he put the same question to others, and found that most of the answers were either like my own or a vehement, uncritical acceptance of his wording, he started to lecture us. Among other things he gave an example from the prophets Moses and Elias. Apparently when Moses still was not a prophet he asked Elias to take him on a journey. Elias accepted on one condition: that Moses had to follow him without question, whatever he did. While on the journey Elias committed many illogical and sinful acts, making hole in a merchant’s ship, which then sank killing many. Destroying the house of an old woman. Each time Elias wanted to commit such acts, Moses rejected them and asked him for a reason. In response, Elias would remind him of his condition and refuse an explanation. At the end of the trip Elias explained his actions one by one. For example, when the house of the old woman was destroyed, her two young children died from cold. Had they remained alive, they would have become repressive rulers, committing many crimes and murdering many people. From this story Reza’i concluded that: “An ideological leader has an ideological vision which is much deeper and more ideologically than political and certainly more broad and universal than understanding and vision of an ordinary follower. Usually he sees things and thinks in a way, which could not be explained at the time. He might seem illogical and irrational but only time can prove their correctness. Hence the follower has to follow his leader not on the basis of understanding, but on the base of total trust …” He added: “We have seen our leader in very difficult situations, and we have learned later how correct he has been in his decisions. Apart from his political vision, and his power in logic, speech, persuasion, his history of resistance under torture and immense pressure, his sacrifices in different areas. . . . Above all these advantages and capacities, he is different from us all and much in advance of any of us, because of his ideological vision and status.” In conclusion he said: “Even without a close encounter with Masoud, and perhaps with little knowledge of the history and ideology of the Mojahedin, you have all reached a common conclusion of accepting him as a leader and following his orders, even if they contradict everything else. But because you have accepted him with your mind and your logic, and not with your heart, although you accept his word, you do not deny your doubt. This might be ideal where you following a political leader. But since we are talking about an ideological leader, it is far from ‘good’ or even ‘just all-right’. To follow him ideologically, and not only politically, you have to see him and accept him not only in your mind, but in your heart. And you cannot do it unless you first open your heart to him. You should have no secret from him, no boundary should separate you from him. He should be the one and only, the closest person to you. To reach this close relationship, you have to work hard, beginning with the expression of all your contradictions and secrets, especially those concerning him.”

My personal ‘Ideological Revolution’

            I thought that by this time I knew where I stood and where I was aiming for. I thought I knew the procedure and what I had to do. After much effort, I would often find minor untold secrets or contradictions and, by writing about them in my weekly ‘ideological report’ or, as it was called, ‘revolutionary report’, I would feel “that is it!” and with a sham smile try to show that ‘I have revolted.’ But a look from Sister Tahereh, her sarcastic remarks, and eventually her straight reproach would show me how wrong I was and how far I was from revolting.

            In one meeting a brother confessed that once after SW work he had encounter with a prostitute. Anna jumped from her place shouting one insult after another at him, finally saying he should leave the room and never again face any of sisters who were present. I was shocked to see Anna like that: angry, offensive, impolite, cruel. It was the first time in thirteen years I had witnessed her abusing anybody. The incredible change convinced me that she had indeed had her ideological revolution. Like others in the meeting whose ideological revolution had been accepted, she no longer criticised herself and instead attacked others. When she spoke about herself it was to help others to revolt, to explain how she had reached that stage, and who inspired her. In the same meeting she told us of a long poetic letter printed in Mojahed, which had been her inspiration. It was by Mehdi Khodaie-Sefat. To reach Anna’s level, I read it several times, but the more I read, the less I understood how she could grasp its complexities. Now more than ever I lost hope. As one of the masouls told me, I was so dependent on my logic and the understanding of ‘my mind’ that I was unable to see and understand from ‘heart’.” Once during one of the ‘revolutionary meetings’, I was so desperate, and so angry with myself, with my mind and my logic, that, alone in the toilet, I started banging my head and cursing myself. I knew that I would lose everything, perhaps even my own mind, if I didn’t revolt. I would have to leave the organisation, to separate from Anna who, perhaps as a result of revolting was going to Paris, or to fight in Kurdistan. I was going to lose my political goal and my private life. At one point I felt that my only alternative was suicide. But I thought of Sarvy and Hanif, and started crying for them, perhaps even more for myself, as I thought how ashamed they would be to have a defeated and wrecked father.

            Noticing my catastrophic situation, Sister Tahereh called me to her office and asked me why I did not revolt like the others?! I replied: “Do you think, I don’t want to revolt?!” Then, crying loudly, I added: “but I don’t know how,” She merely laughed and told me that she pitied me. “You are an able person, are you not? You have studied for long time, have you not? You have read many books . . . but you are incapable of doing a simple thing which many, less able, less educated, much younger than you accomplished in a single day … You must have an untold secret which has turned you to stone, made you heartless. You have to talk about it and set yourself free. When you feel there is no barrier between you and the leadership, then you will be able to revolt and fly, then you will be able to see him with your heart and feel him with your whole being. Then you can be unified with him.”

            My darkest and most tormenting memory, secret or, as such things were known as ‘contradiction’, was of sexual molestation in my childhood. I had never talked to anyone about it, and never wanted to think about it. Now freed of all secrets in my political life, I was forced to remember the darkest and deepest secret of my life. How could I talk or even write about it? I knew from Iranian, perhaps a universal tradition, that this is the darkest and deepest demon of all, and perhaps the most dishonourable. What would happen to my dignity, my honour, my position among my friends, comrades and, worst of all, my wife and children? How could I talk about it? For several days, perhaps weeks the question engulfed me. Everything else was forgotten in a blink. I was ate, drank, worked and talked with it, even when I was asleep and dreaming. I could imagine faces or even thought of different people close to me when were hearing this revelation. I felt the shame and loneliness I was about to experience.

            But what choice did I have? Either way I was about to loose everything, my family and friends, my reputation and status in the organisation, even my goal, my desire to help my people. But at least I was no longer confused, puzzled or stupefied. It was hard, very hard, but at least it was the solution! With it I could change the situation, run from death, saves myself from madness … .

            For going from our base to central base of the society, I had to pass from a park. In that very disturbing, frightening, and in a way sad spring, I once lingered for an hour or two in the park, watching ordinary people, children playing with their colourful balls, couples hand in hand walking and talking with smiles, a girl jogging to achieve the figure she wanted, a man riding his bicycle, an old man smoking his cigarette, and an old woman who was feeding pigeons. How beautiful ordinary life was, and how far I was from it! The spring flowers were as sweet as ever, birds were flying and singing, butterflies were dancing on the flowers and bees were sucking their nectar. This was me who was sank in marshland of my thought, my problems, my misery. Suddenly I felt that nothing worse could happen. I might be left alone like the old man, smoking my cigarette, or the old woman feeding pigeons. At that moment I could not see anything positive about myself, I could not see the good things I had, my youth, my health, my knowledge, my capacity to build another future for myself . . . . those jewels of life, and many more valuable things, more than ever, during ‘ideological revolution’ were deprived of having any pride or self-confidence. We were changed into worthless commodity. Not worthless, let me be correct, ‘shameful commodity’. Thinking or remembering oneself capacities and abilities, self-happiness, self-assurance, self-confidence, were shameful, deplorable and outrageous. During those decisive moments I remembered an Old Persian expression: ‘fear is brother of death’. To save yourself from destruction and death you have to overcome and kill your own fear. So I had to fight against my own fear, fear of loneliness. In another word or perhaps from negative side of it, when one is desperate enough and has no alternative, he has to think of worse and prepare himself for the worse. And this was precisely what I did. Now I was brave and courage full enough to write about my fear and my dark secret. And I did. In a way many things changed for me, not when I wrote about it, but even before that, when I prepared myself to write about them. Suddenly, instead of feeling heavy as a mountain, unable to move an inch for millions of years. I felt as light as those butterflies in the park, as beautiful and colourful as them and as free as them. I felt no boundary, no restriction, no fear of the future, no complex of the past, no question, no problem, no dilemma. I felt free as I felt I have no need, when I overcame my biggest and deepest need, there was nothing left to make me poor and in need. So I was rich, I was as rich as one can be. I had killed my strongest fear, so I was strong, as strong as one might desire.

            I was not afraid of anything, I was strong, I was rich, I was free, so I was happy, happier and more self-assured than ever. These feelings were not hidden under my skin, nor were crawling about my mind and heart. They were real, as real as I was. They were visible, noticeable and crystal-clear to all who knew me. I had revolted, had my own ‘ideological revolution’. Immediately afterwards I felt the gates of my heart has been opened to every body and every thing. I felt I am more than ever capable of loving, and giving. I could love God, all existence, all human beings, my country, my people, my leaders, my masoul, my colleagues, those who worked under me, my family, my wife, my children. I could feel my heart is as big as be able to house all those loves at the same time and still there was more room for loving many more unknown things. Now I could even not only love but admire my own masoul, Sister Tahereh who was always teasing me, abusing and insulting me, and even aimed to crush me. Sister Tahereh who always tried to convince me I am nobody and nothing.

            Now perhaps I was able to understand Masoud and Maryam, those who could fight against their own fear, and overcome it. Fight against history’s old demagogues of ownership of women by men. Did they have the right for whatever reason to marry each other? They say it was because of the revolution and freedom of our country. They say if they were not married, because of Islamic traditions and restrictions. They were not able to work as close as they had to, and could not be as effective as they wished to, or expected to, as the joint leadership of the Iranian resistance. Their enemy were saying it was not the need of the revolution but the sexual desire of Rajavi. They say he stole his friend’s wife. They say he has broken all moral and honourable codes, traditions, customs. They say their action not only is a shameful and disgraceful spot for Mojahedin but for resistance forces against Khomieni, and further more for all Iranian, and perhaps for all human kind. Those who could think deeper and were more political and perhaps open minded. Said: “it was need of Rajavi himself as the leader of the Mojahedin to create a catastrophe to distract all attentions, at least concerns of the organisation’s members, from his failing policies in all directions. His defeat in different battle fronts, in cities, and in Kurdistan. Lose of many supporters and members either because of regime’s executions, and imprisonment, or their lose of hope and eventual passivity of them. His failure in creating a broad coalition. Those who were more philosophical claimed that Mojahedin from a broad and popular organisation have changed into a cult and compared this act with the acts of many Gurus for testing their followers. Their trust, faith and obedience toward themselves, one compared this with a story: “The story of a travelling Sufi guru, who, on being greeted by a large crowd, weeded out the half-hearted from the true believers by urinating in front of them. The faithful remained, but those weak in spirit left in disgust.” What ever reason, in our view a prehistoric taboo was broken, a woman had been able to decide for herself, between her ideological believe and her commitment toward her marriage and her child, she chose the former one. For a man as is considered as complete human, this action could not bring any rumour or ill faith remark. In whole history, in all different countries and cultures including in Iran and in Islamic culture there has been perhaps millions of examples of men leaving their wives and families for other women not because of joy or sex but for political and perhaps ideological reasons. Those who married their foe’s daughters to bring peace and stop bloodshed. Those who changed their religion and had to divorce their wives and marry those from the same faith. . . . . But for Maryam as a woman this was the worst crime that she could commit. Though nobody was talking about Maryam’s role in this affair. Mostly she was considered as some sort of commodity exchanged between two men. She had to prepare herself for committing the worst crime, which she could commit and prepare herself for any label, any curse and abuse and maltreatment.

            In their verbal or written reports of their ‘ideological revolution’, some said that they were inspired by this courage of Maryam. Hence they could face their own weakness and complex and overcome it. But in my case it was completely opposite. First I faced my own fear and then start seeing Maryam’s courage and struggle. In my long poetic letter to her I wrote about my own revolution, and proclaimed that I have been able to see her in my own revolution. Inspired by an Iranian poetic expression, ‘story of butterfly and candle’, where candle burns itself to give light to everybody and butterfly instead dances around candle till burning herself in its flames. I expressed myself as a butterfly that wants to dance in the fire of her sacrifice, to burn my own colourful wings, means losing all my own characters, and being burned in the flame of that love, and melted in the story of eternity told by her. Yes I asked her to let me to burn myself alive in front of every body, as a genuine evidence for her true and real revolution against all exploitation of mankind by men. Starting with worst of all, the exploitation of women by men everywhere around the world.

            Hold of the organisation united in expense of loses of supporters

            With the arrival of June, as usual we had to prepare ourselves for June 20^th demonstration. As in previous demonstrations I had been successful in organising our supporters in Manchester and the Midlands, I was sent north to recruit for the event. Unlike pervious times we had to recruit people not only to join our demonstration in London but for going to Paris for attending the meeting. I was told that all our close and trustful supporters with valid passport should be nominated for going to Paris and the rest of people had to be organised for coming to London. Apart from that we had to talk to rich Iranian and persuade them to help us financially, especially with the expenses of those who would travel to Paris, many of whom were penniless. But I soon discovered that my task this time would be not as easy as before. We had to talk for hours with the people we approached. On previous occasions everybody had just one question: “when are we going back to Iran?” Now everyone asked questions about the ideological revolution – moral, political, procedural, and even Islamic questions. Thanks to my own revolution, I went on the offensive asking our critics to explain exactly what wrong had been done. The most honest and frequent answer, to which I have to admit I had no response, was that: “it is going to prolong the revolution as ordinary people can’t understand it and will consider it as immoral and corrupt.” Any way however difficult, we could manage to have our own demonstration in London and send enough people to Paris. My team also managed to fulfil its finical commitment. We had with difficulty attracted 600 people to our demonstration, but thanks to sister Tahereh we claimed 1200 and were saved from those who wanted to say we had lost support because of ideological revolution.

            In the post-mortem council meeting held after the demonstration, when we faced the real attendance figures, including unemployed miners from the north east who joined the demonstration for a free days sight seeing in London, to answer sister Tahereh’s criticism, we had to number people who came from different region to see who was responsible most for this embarrassing failure. Since the number of people coming from outside London was known from the numbers in the buses, surprisingly we reached to negative number from London. At this point the person in charge of recruiting in London jumped from his chair with anger and astonishment and said: “so you mean that I not only didn’t recruit any body, including myself, to join the demonstration but I actually sent some people from other cities away!!” The truth was, however, that it had been difficult to recruit people and the targets set for us had been impossibly high. Furthermore, we all had to prove our revolution and a failure to meet Sister Tahereh’s targets meant that our revolution was not genuine or good enough. So somehow we had to lie, but in a way a white kind of lie without feel of guilt. For example I myself was so desperate that in my report I included those who promised us that they would come with their own cars, though I was certain they would not show. Another masoul, instead of saying how many people have come from his region talked about the capacity of buses he had hired. But our lies were no worse than Sister Tahereh’s who counted passers-by as demonstrators.

            While I was in Manchester, I could see clearly negative reaction to our ideological revolution. The number of those who were prepared to call themselves supporters of Mojahedin had dropped dramatically. In the past, people were shy and humble when they spoke to us, and felt indebted to us because of our fight for their country. Now they were aggressive, even rude. We had problem with our own members too. Among those under my responsibility, there was a very young man called Ardevan. When I returned from mobilisation I discovered that he had left the society. He was perhaps my best member, and I liked him very much for his innocent, hardworking and truthfulness. I was very upset, as we believed to live outside of the organisation was equal to the destruction of our humanity. An end to our existence as a free and honourable human beings. I tried very hard to find Ardevan and persuade him to return. A few years later I did find him and he re-joined us, but even then I could see this had little to do with the Mojahedin and owed much more to personal friendship. As soon as I left him with other masouls, he escaped again. In another case even a close friendship with a member for whom I was responsible could not offset the pressure of the ideological revolution. I gave Saleh permission to visit his family in Manchester. A few days later I realised that he would not return. For several weeks, I was unable to admit to sister Tahereh that I had permitted him to go because I was sure of the organisation and perhaps myself and my friendship with my boys. At that point still I could not see, that the pressure on members was so great that no organisational or personal tie could neutralise it or ease the pain created by the ‘throwing them into the fire’ as it was told by Rajavi himself.

Whatever our doubts about the size of the demonstration, we were happy that its quality was high. We had five people dressed in white clothes as a symbol of the 50,000 martyrs of the revolution, and fourteen people in prison dress as a symbol of the 140,000 political prisoners held in Iran. We had few people made up to look like Khomieni and his revolutionary guards, and few people playing music, at the end of demonstration we had a play of what is happening in Iran and what is going to happen eventually, namely uprising of people and freeing prisoners and killing of Khomieni and guards. Poor guards had so many beatings from not only prisoners but from martyrs too which for several days were complaining from those beatings. We had few speakers from labour and liberal parties. Among slogans of this demonstration for the first time apart from our usual slogans including ‘Hail to Rajavi’, we had very clamorous, controversial and new slogan of ‘Rajavi-Iran, Iran-Rajavi’, which could imply Rajavi is equal to Iran and vice versa. While we were repeating this slogan we had to cry very loud as many were not repeating it and it was very embarrassing to see it ignored by many including our close supporters.

            In this demonstration close to the many photographs of Masoud Rajavi, including one very large in front of the demonstration we were moving large photographs of Maryam whose family name was now changed from Azodanlu to Rajavi. Of course not because of marriage, as she was not still married to Rajavi, or even so she didn’t name herself Abrishamchii when she was married to Mehdi Abrishamchii, but as later was explained by her, because of resistance and symbolisation of residence in this name. She said: “many martyred Mojahedin Kissed the noose and in the name of Rajavi accepted their execution. And many more prisoners were inspired by his name to resist many kinds of torture and did not surrender or repent.” Rajavi, she added, is family name of all Mojahedin resisting Khomieni’s tyranny.

            With the return of those attending the celebration in Paris we were able to hear moving and fantastic news about that event. It didn’t take long when we received videotape and a colourful issue of Mojahed full of beautiful pictures of Masoud and Maryam, among bunches of colourful flowers at their marriage ceremony. From then on this day not only was celebrated as the anniversary of the largest ever demonstration of Mojahedin in the streets of Tehran, but also for this marriage which took place exactly four years later.

            That issue of Mojahed was treated like a rare commodity. All our members wanted a copy and were prepared to pay any price for it. We rationed it among different bases, but soon realised, presumably because there was no demand among other Iranians, that we could have two each. Soon everyone had photographs on their desk, and the pocket books and brief cases of our members were all decorated according to the taste and artistic talent of their owners with the wedding pictures. Our decorated pictures of Maryam and Masoud became a talking point for us and objects of competition as we vied with each other to show our love for the leadership and the depth of our own revolution.

            Apart from pictures, this issue of Mojahed was full of important and moving speeches and hundreds of messages of support for the Iranian resistance from political organisations, including the British Labour and the Liberal parties and many individual members of parliament including Conservatives. There were also letters of support from major French political parties and many more governing parties from different European countries and from fifteen members of the American congress.

            For the ceremony, from pictures and its videotape one could guess between one to two thousands members and close supporters were there to witness this ‘historical and moving’ event. In front raw were collection of people from different walks of life, to show off the support among different ranks of society, including sport-men, army personal, families of martyred Mojahedin, old and famous members of Mojahedin. Stage itself was full of different expensive, colourful flowers, which later on did create many criticism and comparison of this ceremony with the events that used to take place during Shah’s era. Sitting beside them near a table were Masoud and Maryam, Masoud in dark suit as usual without tie, and Maryam in simple, white dress.

            A ‘marriage ceremony’

            The ceremony began with Maryam. She starts by talking about Ashraf, the first martyred wife of Masoud, as symbol of revolutionary and Mojahed women, and her ideological mother. Then she starts answering different allegations against Masoud. She said: “He is accused of being selfish, power-thirsty, . While I have to say that a selfish person cannot remain even among lowest rank of Mojahedin, and certainly not in the circle of leadership. In a collective work, there is no room for self-interest . . . . But if you (those who are accusing him.) know any other person more capable than him, we have no objection in accepting him as our leader. But first we ask him bunch of questions. ‘Where have you come from?’. ‘What is your struggle and revolutionary background against two recent dictatorship in our country?’. ‘What have you done for people and revolution?’. ‘What kind of problem’s of the revolution had been solved by you?’. ‘What is your own organisation?’. ‘What is your strategic plan (for the resistance or revolution)?’. ‘What is your alternative? (For the regime)’.”

            Then after talking about freedom of women, she start talking about the marriage, its reason, and then she start answering related questions, she said: “Some ask if there is a need of marriage in circle of leadership, what about when one of you die? I say this marriage did happen just once. If Masoud dies, he is alive in me. . . . Some ask about family values and welfare of my daughter? I have to say when there are fifty thousand executions, and 140,000 political prisoners, when there are many unsupported families and children, how Mehdi (Abrishamchii ) or I could think of ourselves or our child? If we did, were not you questioning us for that?.” Then she said it was her right to divorce her husband, and it was she who proposed to Masoud. Again she pointed the accusers and asked: “why didn’t you talk as much as you did in this case, against crimes of Khomieni’s regime?. You consider woman under ownership of men, as some kind of merchandise which can be handed over between two men, the one who has no right and no will of her own. . .”

            After Maryam’s speech, for the first time in Iranian and Islamic history, Maryam as a woman read the Quran marriage sermon. Which brought tear of happiness in all our eyes. While Masoud with his joking gestures and comments, forced us to mix the tear with smile. Then there was column of people toward their position for congratulating them. First, Mehdi Abrishamchii, who forced us all to cry gravely. Then Mother and Father of Rezaie’s family. Others, like ninety four years old father of one of the martyred Mojahedin who start reading his poem for them and said: “by the grace of those two, Iran has become honoured, honouring is not only for Iran, but for all Mojahedin who have become like sun, as all have been honoured in the heart of people. . . . .” Then there were sport’s champions who present them with their medal and trophies.

            Then after singing of Mojahedin’s children, who were hugged by Masoud and Maryam, it was Masoud’s turn to give speech. As usual, a very long and moving one. He start by reading a sentence from Quran and then, with referring to children who sang for them, gave a story, story of ‘Phoenix’, story of different birds including pigeons whom in their land were not save from Hyenas with turbans, (referring to mullahs in Iran). There were foxes (those who deceived people in aid of mullahs), and cats (who were thief and were showing homage toward any body who was ready to feed them, without any honour or loyalty.) Foxes and cats were aiding Hyenas. Also there were rabbits that were ready to curl under-ground for not seeing the crimes of Hyenas. Eventually birds from fire which was made to cook them for Hyenas, decided to fly and find their own leader. “They were thirty and after long fly they became ‘SEYEH MORGH’ (phoenix-the leader of birds), and that phoenix today has been materialised in Maryam. (i.e. phoenix in Farsi is ‘SEYEH MORGH’ means ‘thirty birds’. so this is an expression that ‘they were thirty (and with collective effort and mind) they became phoenix. (Their own leader)).” Masoud finished his story with the name of Maryam and immediately all people in videotape and in our meeting room where we were seeing it stood up crying and clapping. Chanting: “Iran-Rajavi, Rajavi-Iran” Then again he start numbering the accusations of his foes and answering them, which were quite logical, and understanding and brought more hate among us for his foes. Then he carried on to the pick and climax of his speech, he said: “This is new birth, an explosion, I am asking you to come with me to infinity! First you have to judge me! You have to accuse me! Accuse me as a dishonourable, disgraceful, capricious, person, who has stolen his best-friend’s wife. You have to take me to your own court, you have to judge me, if the accusers win, good for people who will get rid of a leader like me. But if they lose, you have to come to aid me with all your might; you have to put your hand in mine to destroy Khomieni and to bring peace and freedom to our country. But that is not all, after that you have to think, what did you think yourself? If what ever you thought was correct so reject us as your leader. If not, you have to answer where from did your thought came from? If it was not inspired from our decision, it had to be from your own character and personality! (i.e. thief thinks every body are thief too.) Hence in this case we are going to act like mirror, a mirror that you will be able to see your own true face, in it.” Then with high emotions and very loudly he repeat a sentence from one of the Persian poems: “burn, burn, die, die, don’t be afraid of burning and die in the fire of this love.” Then he said “everybody has to die and born again (this time not from your own mother but from Maryam.) . . . If any body has not born again cannot call himself Mojahed, self-burning and self-sacrifice, compare to what Mehdi and Maryam have done, is nothing.” Again he start reading following sentences of the same poem: “die, die, when you come alive from this smoke, you are all ‘BADR MONIER’. (Higher than moon)” Then came climax of climax of his speech, while he rose from his seat, and was crying loud, said: “What is the message? Yes, I have come to sacrifice myself and my organisation and my generation, for the freedom of people. For thousand times they drilled my heart, for thousand times they put the hanging rope on my neck, thousand times they lashed my body, Yes I am people’s Mojahedin, I am hundreds of thousands, I am representative of generation of infinities. I have come to sacrifice myself for the freedom of my chained people. Hi people of Iran, ‘HAL MEN NASAR-A YANSORNIE’ (i.e. famous sentences from Imam Hussein, “is there any body to help me?”).” Well who could not cry, who could not shut, who could not chant: ‘BA MASOUD, BA MARYAM MIJANGIAM TA AKHAR’. (following Masoud, following Maryam, we are going to fight till eventual victory).

            Following that video, we had to revolt again. This time as it was told by Masoud, we had to take him to negative infinity and accuse him of any thing which we could think of, and then judge him, if we reached to the verdict that he is not guilty, then we had to make him as mirror and this time judging ourselves. Meant accusing ourselves for the same crimes, which we accused him of. Following that we had to find our class tendencies. And our true nature, hidden under nice and gentle behaviour of ours. Well how difficult it was, we, most of us wrote pages of reports, naming, describing and reasoning our own class tendencies, giving examples from our past. From our tendencies we had to find whom were we closer too, Shah or Khomieni?! Soon it became an expression among us, after asking each other if we have revolted, to ask: “how many Shah or Khomieni or both have we swallowed?” Then in ‘ideological-revolutionary ‘meetings one by one of us had to go by the big board in front of everybody and divide it by two, in one-side write: ‘OLD’ and the other side, ‘NEW’. Then underneath of each word write our way of thinking and behaviour and tendencies, in old time, and what are they now after our revolution. Among one of people who were under my responsibility there was one named Sharif, who was very fat and simple and kind person. When they asked him to talk about his old, or as it was custom naming oneself with prefix of ‘old’, he said: ‘KOHNEH SHARIF’. Meant ‘nappy of Sharif’ and not ‘old Sharif’ as ‘old’ and ‘nappy’ are pronounced with slight difference and write the same way in Farsi. So a very serious meeting while all were deep in their own thinking and were crying, exploded with laugh as every body immediately imagined the size and shape of his nappy.

            Now after we had our own revolution, we were asked to show the videotape of the wedding to everybody. So as usual I was sent to Manchester to recruit people to travel to London to watch it. It was unbelievable and funny for many whom we were asking them to leave their work and come to London just for seeing videotape. We had to invent many excuses for asking this ridiculous demand. The truth was that the organisation wanted to show how everybody is welcoming the ideological revolution, and our masoul was so afraid of low turn out, in this meeting. Hence she wanted to bring anybody interested, from whole country to fill the meeting place. To ‘aid’! Us we were received the videotape of Abrishamchii about the ‘ideological revolution’. While us and many close supporters were very interested to see that tape, perhaps to answer some of our own questions, other people’s reaction was completely opposite. He praised Rajavi like saints during whole of his speech, which we didn’t mind and didn’t take notice of it. But apart from us, it created strong negative reactions among those who saw it. So not only that video didn’t solve any problem, but even did create many more problems. Forcing people to come in their own city to see that video tape, by itself was a big task, and after that many with more questions and spending six to seven hours to see that very long video tape, were not ready even to talk to us, forget about coming to London. The day, when we wanted to move to London, we found our buses almost empty, even close supporters were hesitant to come, as many already had spent a lot of time for seeing many different video tapes and many had seen the ceremony itself in Paris. Hence we had to go to their houses one by one to ask them to fulfil their promises and come with us. When we went to one of them who was living in university’s residential hall, we found him sleep in his room, we were pressing his door’s bell and banging on his window, where from we could see him sleeping and not responding to all our knockings. While he was pretending he is asleep, we were worried if anything has happened to him. Eventually we called the guard of the building to come and open the door for helping him. The guard didn’t believe us and came to knock the door himself. When he saw no response, he became more worried than us and called for Ambulance and brought the spare key to open the door. At this time our supporter couldn’t pretend any more and while he was pretending that he has jumped from some sort of comma, thanked us very much saving him from probable death. Any way he said “as you can see I am not well at all so excuse me for not coming to London.”

            In London as our masoul was advised from Paris, a very expensive salon for showing the videotape was rented and was decorated with many expensive flowers, perhaps to make life even more difficult for us in answering even more questions.

            ‘Another divorce’. ‘Another marriage’

            In few weeks time it was announced that Brother Mehdi Abrishamchii, one of the heroes of this revolution, would visit London to ‘tie’ our individual revolutions. An expression used by the Mojahedin during ideological revolution, this meant helping people to conclude their revolution and return to normality and stability in higher dimension.

            To meet Abrishamchii in person was an unbelievable honour. The thought of him talking to each one of us about our revolution and certifying it drove us mad with excitement. The meeting was to take place in our base, of which I was the masoul. So, as host, I was especially anxious, when he entered the meeting room accompanied by two bodyguards, we clapped for almost half an hour, till our hands turned red. He turned his back to us and faced the pictures of Masoud and Maryam to show that our applause is not for him but for the leadership, then started clapping too. He opened the meeting by asking for someone to a volunteer to tell the story of his or her revolution first. Immediately all hands went up. A long, emotional, and perhaps unbelievable story thus began which continued for almost three days without any sleep start by one of our sisters who start talking about her own revolution.

            It was summer, but for us, used to the hot Iranian summers of Iran, it was like spring. The meeting room doors were wide open to the garden, and one could see flowers, birds and the children, including Sarvy and Hanif, were left alone to play any game they liked, however dangerous. In the room we were far away from the truth and the reality of the material world, or as we used to claim and call it: ‘alienated and exploited imaginary life’. With each story of misery, complexes, misfortune and dependency, we cried, feeling it was our own sometimes so loudly that the walls of the room would shake, as if crying with us. Sometimes, when we heard the story of a friend’s revolution we would clap with all our might for long time. A few minutes later we were laughing loudly and singing one of the Mojahedin’s anthems, or a love song. Later I learned that our neighbours thought we must be holding a curious religious ceremony for the death of a close relative and tried to show understanding. They even looked after our children.

            Although each time after the end of a speech, my hand, like many others, shot up as high as possible for the next turn, deep inside me I would rather die than talk. By now I had written everything, and had many times prepared myself to talk; but it was still difficult to imagine confessing my dark secret in front of everybody including Anna and people under my own responsibility. Eventually brother Mehdi asked me to talk, but first he said: “I have a question, you asked in your report to be permitted to burn yourself, may I ask, why?” I replied: “Well thanks to the ‘revolution’, I have seen my filthy past, and I hate it with all my being. So I want to burn myself so I can be born again as fresh and as clean as a baby from Maryam.” He asked me a few more questions, which I answered. I was crying hard and wanted to talk. But he stood up and said: “I praise the Banisadr’s courage. Not that Banisadr, (referring to my cousin, the ex-president), who I hate, but this Banisadr who has been born from Maryam.” Then he started to applaud me and the others followed suite, as it was a custom to clap for those whose ‘revolution’ was accepted. This time, I was really been ready to talk, but he didn’t let me and said he has read my report, and there is no need to repeat what I had said.

            Soon it was Anna’s turn. Again he silenced her, instead asking her if she was ready to divorce me. She started to cry loudly. I, sitting few rows back was crying slowly too. After a long pause she said ‘yes’ and he asked me to stand up and answer the same question. I said ‘yes’ too. He asked us both to take our rings and give them to him. We did. He showed those rings and said: “yes those rings like many others are symbol of the Mojahedin’s sacrifice for the freedom and independence of our country. May God accept them.” He repeated the procedure with a few other couples. And then he asked us all to stand up and, to more weeping and enthusiastic applause, he married us to our spouse in the name of Maryam and Masoud.

            There were still a few left who had not had their ‘revolution’, among them Behnam, a high-ranking member of the society’s council who was videoing. Suddenly we saw him banging very his head hard on his camera. Blood was spurting everywhere. Behnam was under immense pressure to have his ‘revolution’, and didn’t know what to do. Perhaps, like me when I was in the same situation he preferred to beat himself from anger and desperation. People jumped towards him to stop and help him. He didn’t say anything in that meeting. But I think that sometimes later he did have his ‘revolution’.

            Another was Sharif who was asked to stand up. Then Abrishamchii asked him why has he not have revolted. He could not answer. Then he was asked what is bothering him most? Again he had no answer. He was asked to reconsider, to look at himself and see if any thing was wrong. Again no answer. Some of us were angry at his ignorance, others were sad and crying for him and still others were laughing slowly. Eventually Abrishamchii, who was tired. Said: “You’re a chubby guy aren’t you?” He looked at himself and said: “Oh you mean this. Oh yes, that’s right.” Then Abrishamchii said: “Yes you’re chubby, but you’re a Mojahed, we have flabby Mojahed, bold Mojahed, (pointing at himself.), blind and deaf Mojahed … but these are not the adjectives which describe us, they are the values of those outside the resistance. Here you are measured by your sacrifices and your honesty as a Mojahed.”

            The meeting was ended by singing led by one of his bodyguards. Then, as usual now, it was time to chant ‘Iran-Rajavi, Rajavi-Iran’ for almost half an hour.

            After the meeting I was called to Abrishamchii’s room and he asked me, if I thought Anna was ready to go to Kurdistan to fight. I presume before wanting to know about her, he wanted to know if I am ready to lose her. I replied, “I don’t know, before this revolution, my answer would have been no. But after the revolution I hardly know her to judge her.” Then he asked me about Banisadr and asked me to write something about him. Few days later I did, but as my criticism was too mild, and was more logical than emotional, he didn’t like it very much. Although he accepted it, as one might guess, it never was published in Mojahed.

Change of my name from Masoud to ‘Masoud’

Once the revolution was over we were told to go to our ‘rest base’ more often and spend more time, at least few hours a week, with our family. Even Anna was asked by our new masoul, Sister Saeideh to go with children to Frankfurt to visit her mother who had recently arrived there from Tehran. After few days after Anna’s departure from London, Saeideh told me to join her. But when I reached Frankfurt, Anna said that we both had orders to return to London immediately where important news awaited us.

             In London we discovered that most members of the society were to leave us for either France or Kurdistan. The reason, we were told, was that: “as a result of revolution our capacity to work and accept of responsibility has magnified by hundred times, so each one of us is capable of doing the work of several people.” Those who remained, including me, now had to work much harder. I was told that from then on I would be the deputy of the society in England. I was cried badly as I didn’t want to stay in an ‘empty’ London and would rather be with my old friends in Kurdistan. But I had no choice.

            A few weeks later we received an order to mobilise and move most of our supporters and members to Bournemouth as Maryam was going to attend the annual conference of the Labour party there. At the conference we had to face different kinds of foe, this time supporters of Tudeh and various Feda’ian who had gathered to ‘disclose and reveal the true face of Mojahedin’. We were afraid that they might throw things, eggs or even a bomb at Maryam’s car when she is going to conference building. As it turns out, our presence there was so overcoming that it seemed conference is an Iranian one and has nothing to do with British politic. Apart from them and supporters of other left Iranian groups, the supporters of Right groups including supporters of Bakhtiar, all united against us joined them. To watch them, to argue with them, and to answer back their accusations in front of Labour party members, instead of discouraging us was giving us more reason that we are right and all of them are badly wrong. Even we were feeling pity for them for following corrupt leaders of their organisations and wasting their time and energy fighting against us while we were putting all our energy struggling against Khomieni’s regime. We could see with our own eyes that our leaders are right and those people are more worried of Mojahedin reaching to power than crimes committed by Khomieni, every day in Iran.

            One day during that gathering we were asked to go to Maryam’s hotel. It was our first time seeing her, our saint, our prophet, our heavenly angel. Sarvy was with us, and I was happy that she would see Maryam and be kissed and fondled by her. In the same meeting as it was custom of those days, as newborn babies to change our names and have name of one of our hero or leaders as our name. When she starts talking with me and mentioned my letter to herself. While I was crying from happiness asked her to change my name. She said: “well of course, what do you want to have as your new name?” I said, I want to change it from Masoud, to ‘Masoud’. At the time I had no idea of the kind of crime and mistake I am committing by wanting to be like Masoud. How could one dare to reach him and become like glorious Masoud. But with her ‘heavenly smile’ she accepted my request and everybody clapped for me. Over the next few years I many times begged my masouls to change my name again, but was refused each time. So I was left with this poisonous shame, which was a sign of my ‘ignorance’, my ‘self confidence’, and my ‘arrogance’.

            After that meeting a few of us were asked to attend another meeting with one of the high officials of the Mojahedin, Mohadessin. Sister Tahereh was also present. For the first time Mohadessin talked about organisation of Mojahedin and different ranks in the organisation. I found out that by now my rank was ‘SF-1’, foreign sympathisers-1 (i.e. the highest rank among supporters), but less than usual sympathiser as we were attracted to the organisation, not in Iran, where we could be tested in facing the regime and revolutionary guards, but in foreign countries. He told us: “but thanks to the revolution, you passed an even more difficult test than facing execution and physical tortures.” Then he explained to us the system of ranks in the organisation. I learned that it began with ‘member’ with the code ‘O’, then there was ‘OSH’, a council member of the ‘Nahad’, (i.e. unit structure of the organisation), then ‘MN’, deputy of the Nahad, then ‘MS’, masoul or responsible of the Nahad, and ‘M’, the deputy of a member of executive council, and ‘HE’ member of the executive council, which was the highest rank. We learned that to this point the difference between different members was matter of quantity, while the difference between the leadership and the rest of us was quality. Also the difference between O, a member of the organisation and the lower ranks, ‘K’ candidate of membership or ‘S’, sympathiser (i.e. one rank less than K, a person who has accepted to live in Mojahedin base and work full time for the organization and obey any order. The crucial difference between ‘S’ and ‘O’ is that ‘S’ still has not accepted or understood the ideology of Mojahedin), and ‘H’ a supporter (i.e. one rank less than ‘S’, the one who still is not ready to live with Mojahedin or work full time for the organization, or obey any order.) was again qualitative. In the same meeting he told us about our own new ranks. All gathered there were from then on members of the organisation, and I was one of the highest among them, a ‘MN’. After his speech I asked for permission to talk, and refused to accept membership of the Mojahedin. I was very honest as I could see my Liberal and bourgeois tendencies very clearly and could not accept myself as a member of my glorious organisation. I described myself as ‘dirty’ and ‘unworthy’. But he looked at me seriously and said: “you have had your ‘ideological revolution’, and it has been accepted, and you have no right to call a ‘revolutionary Mojahed’, ‘dirty’.” Anyway from that time I became a member of the mother organisation and remained so. I was told that Anna was very close to membership but not quite there. She was recognised as ‘K’, candidate of membership and she had became secretary of Saeideh, the masoul in London.

            Few months later in a ceremony on 8 February, in a large gathering of Mojahedin members and sympathisers, Masoud talked about new shape of the organisation and its different ranks. He talked about a sharp increase in the number of members and the growth of the old members as a result of the ‘ideological revolution’. In that public speech which was very difficult for even us to understand, Masoud announced that as a result of the success and progress of the organisation following the ‘ideological revolution’, all units of Mojahedin were changing into battalion units. He said by now for every three-battalion unit we had 97 social units, but we were going to mix those units and divide them into 33 commanding units for different part of the country. Our firepower would thus increase immensely and we would witness a quicker overthrow of the regime. With this conclusion the ‘ideological revolution within the organisation’ ended with ‘glory and success’. We were happy to see that the result of our suffering is the ‘earlier overthrow of Khomieni regime and happiness and freedom of our own people.”

Changing into a preacher of the ‘ideological revolution’

Now had had our own revolution, we had to spread it everywhere, among supporters. As deputy of the organisation in UK, and one who knew most of the supporters and had close friendship with many of them, I began to travel around the country to talk with them. I was very successful, especially in Newcastle and Manchester where I knew many of the supporters closely and had strong emotional ties with them. Because I liked these people I wanted to share with them the joy I had found through the ‘revolution’. By now I knew very well that like many other joys it may begin with pain. But I knew the pain was short lived while the joy was permanent. Many opened their hearts to me and told me secrets that had bothered them for years. We were told that, for the supporters, the revolution would be much simpler than ours. They simply had to see the organisation in new light and feel that their own existence as a dignified human being and freedom loving Iranian depended on their full commitment to it. They had merely to jump one step forward, and many did. Over the next few months we had series of ‘revolutionary meetings’ for them supervised by a high-ranking member.

            In those meetings my responsibility was to record and witness their revolution and ask questions or give comments. But most of the time I cried and suffered with them, as I could feel their individual pain. One man had to leave his much-loved black girl friend to become a full time supporter. He put his head on my shoulder and cried for a few minutes, telling me how much he loved her, but with her attitude toward the organisation he could not marry her and work with the Mojahedin at the same time. Another had to leave his brother who was working in the Iranian embassy, and show his readiness to kill him if it became necessary. A third was addicted to alcohol and had to swear never to drink again. Yet another had been in prison opium addiction. By joining the Mojahedin as full committed supporters or members all were leaving something behind, something dear to them, for their belief in the revolution, and belief that the organisation and its leader would bring freedom and independence to our country and its people. A young man, who was struggling between his love for his wife and the organisation, described his dilemma in a symbolic form. He looked at a picture of Masoud and said: “whenever I look at that picture it is from under of my eyes, as I can never look at it with my eyes fully open. I see him talking with me. Talking about suffering of our people, hungry women and children in the streets of Teheran and far cities and villages; lines of soldiers killed in the war; those hanged in the streets; those tortured in Khomieni’s jails. What right do I have to think about my own happiness in this situation? What right do I have to think about my own personal love and destiny? What kind of glorious future can I have with this bad conscience, if I don’t forget myself and join you? It is not matter of choosing between you and my own wife. It is a matter of choosing between living in hell, every day of my life as long as I am alive, or suffering a bit because of my personal loss but feeling consciously free and sleeping calm for the rest of my life.”

            Among those who had their revolution there were three English women and one English boy. When they were speaking, I had to translate their words. But how could I? I was simply happy and proud to see them revolting at the same time as us and able to see the universal and widespread results of our revolution. One woman was told us of her suffering during her childhood, because of insults of her mother and the humiliation she suffered in school. Another explained how empty one’s life is in this society. She was explaining that the only goal one can have is to become rich and have several instead of one holiday a year. “Even worshipping God is meaningless. Those worshipped God in the past did so in order to be saved from an insecure future. Now, with ‘social security’, they see no need for it any more. Those who were afraid of God because of their sin are not any more afraid, as they have seen those God’s worshippers in power with their unbelievable sins. They see clearly if God want to put all those people in hell, then there is no more room for them and their pity sins.” She said: “We see and hear and read, immense suffering of other human beings in different countries, not saying that we in ‘first world’ have been their main source of their suffering in first place. We satisfy ourselves by giving small donation to different charities. But soon we learn that those charities are ‘saving ships’ not for those who are suffering, but for the rich to escape taxes. At this point we feel we are paralysed and we prefer to return to our own life and forget about them. We switch off the radio and television, whenever it has that sort of news on, as they don’t exist … is there anyone to help those suffering people? Is there any body to help women around the world who are considered as second-class citizens? Is there any body, really fighting different discrimination? Is there anybody giving us an objective worth living for, explaining why we were born, why we suffer from different pains, get old and die? . . . I have found an answer to all my questions. My answer is short and clear. It has materialised in two names ‘Masoud and Maryam’.”

            In political scene there was also a sense of activity. Masoud and Maryam met with different personalities here and there including King Hussein of Jordan. This meeting created a lot of noise, especially among our leftist foes who reminded us that a few years back the Mojahedin were condemning King Hussein as a butcher of Palestinians and close friend of Shah. But their jibes passed us by. For the first time General Assembly of the United Nations condemned the violation of human rights in Iran and of course we saw it as a fruit of our own effort, and our own revolution. The Mojahedin published a new list of 12,000 Martyrs. Apart from showing the atrocities of the regime, it was a kind of show off of their ability to have detailed information from Iran, how widespread the organization is, which organization has sacrificed more and their organized work. There were photographs of a new march in Kurdistan, this time with heavy weapon and mechanised units as well as people marching on foot. We could see them how by standing on the hills they can write names of Masoud and Maryam and can make Iranian map and in the middle of it name of Rajavi. Of course after any of those news there were pages and pages of their coverage in different papers and media of the world. There was news of increase in propaganda activities of Mojahedin inside Iran and how people are welcoming the ideological revolution of Mojahedin, including the news of 120 million Toman help of an Iranian merchant.