The Promised Moment Bijhan Mirzaee Transalation by Ali Abani

The Promised Moment

  Bijhan Mirzaee                                         Transalation by Ali Abani

 The Clock was ticking: 4:45 in the afternoon, traffic….,

damn traffic … the trouble starts where you least expect. Now is

4:55….. The honk of the automobiles’ horns hurts your ear. I

should have arrived by now….. Only one block left…. There is

no time to check the safety of the rendezvous….. I get out of the

car…..I ran on the ice…. In spite of the cold weather my face and

neck feel they are like being massaged by the wind. Some cars are

frozen on the road. I walked on the sidewalk. I arrive at my

appointment at 5 PM.

Noori is standing in the appointed place. He is looking at me

sad and worried. Maybe there is a trouble? In that bazaar,

everything could be bought, even drugs. Shoppers surrounding the

peddler, standing next to their products,

I stand next to Noori but ask the peddler for the price an

item. I walk slowly. Noori does not move. First step …. second…..

I look back. He is still standing. Oh, what a mistake. Third step,…

they swarm in surrounding me. One is holding my right hand

while holding a colt at my temple. The other one is holding my left

arm tightly and the third one is pushing his machinegun’s barrel to

the back of my head. I want to take my hand out of my pocket.

-“Don’t take your hand out!”

-“Don’t move!”

-“Were you selling drugs?”

Perhaps they have got me wrong. After so much

sleeplessness and dark circles under my eyes, it could be possible

they mistaken me for a drug dealer. With all the prints I am hiding

in my jacket, It is safer to separate myself from Noori. I hope they

have not recognized him and he can escape. They search my

mouth and in a rush they take me away from the scene. We stand

next to a Mercedes Benz. First they search my body and then they

handcuff me from behind. They throw me inside the car. All this

time they talk about drugs and all I do is deny.

The car door closes. I am sitting right in the middle. Noori is

sitting next to me on the left side. On the right is sitting a big

strong Pasdar. With one hand he pulls my handcuffed hand up in

the air and with the other hand he plays with his colt to my head.

The driver is skinny with beard. He has a little head and next to

him is sitting a Pasdar with an evil eye. He has an elongated face

that his beard makes his face his face longer. This rough looking

Pasdar seems be their commander.

“Rough” asks me: “What is your name?”


Slaps, fists, like hammer and belt sits on my face. He asks

again: “What is your name?”

The Pasdar next to me pulls my hand with a smile on his

face: “Your identity is being revealed.”

“Rough” asks Norri: “Say his name!”

Noori, slowly and calmly answers: “Bijhan…

Do I hear right?… I cannot believe it… I say the same thing:


Pasdar next to me repeats again: “Bijhan, you are revealed,


“Rough” hits me on my face with his fist: “Miserable,

everything has been revealed about you, have mercy for yourself.”

He looks at Noori and says: “Say his name!”


Noori has brought them to the rendezvous. I did not believe

  1. He was one of the most trusts worthy of all who were in our

team. We never anticipated this. Maybe I was wrong in analyze

and judging people in the past.

They had taken the handwritten articles that were supposed

to be published in the next edition. The “Rough” asked: “Who did

get these?”

I said something that made no sense. Another fist to my face.

They left me alone till we came to the basement of

interrogation section 209. (Iran’s most notorious detention center.

Unfortunately there was no control over the actions of the officials;

anything could happen to the detainees, a tragedy.“)

Driving to Evin I looked at people in the road. I was looking

at the shoppers and the store windows for the last time. It was

interesting to see people in a rush for shopping. In that moment I

was also busy. The car was driving fast toward the Evin Prison.

Close to Evin Prison, one of the tire chains broke. They were not

sure that they could drive more on the icy road without the chain.

Finally they decided to stop and straighten up the broken chain. In

that moment two of them were watching me like hawks.

When we reached Evin Prison, they shouted: “Your leaders

repent when they reach this gate.” (The motto that Lajevardi, then

the head of the Evin, was saying all the time.) They pulled my hat

forward so I could not see anything. The Rough was arguing with

the guard in front of the door: “We are Zarbat e Dadsetani

(Immediate Prosecutor Group, known for their vicious behaviors

and torture methods).”

-“It does not make a bit different. You have to deliver your

guns before entering the Jail.”

-“I do not go anywhere without my gun.”

-“It is Haji’s own order!”

The Pasdar next to me got out so he could ease the situation.

Some whispers and then they walked away. Since they

assassinated Kachoii, then the heads of Evin Prison, they doubted

themselves also.

I started to count backward. Every second that was wasted

was important to me. The hourly group rendezvous should be

canceled so the Organization could be alerted of absented

members and be aware of the arrests. I wish I had cyanide.

-“Get out!”

Pasdar sitting next to me held me by my collar and pulled me

out of car. They dragged me to the building. I could not see in

front of me. Several times I almost fell on the ground.

-“Doctor, look to see if he has swallow anything”.

A man with a white lab coat came close to me and smelled

my mouth: “I assure you.”

They walked me as they were pulling me. I just realized that

when they were searching my mouth it was for cyanide. After

turning right or left we went down the stairs. We passed a metal

door when they throw me to the floor. I had not reached the floor

when I got a kick on my stomach. The next hit my face. I was

pounded to a wall.

One ordered: “Bring the other one….

After minute, I heard someone walk in. The threats stopped

for a moment. They were surrounding me like vultures.

-“Take off your blind fold but close your eyes.”

I felt someone in front of me; all of a sudden I opened my


Pasdar screamed: “Shut your eyes!”

It was right, Masood was also being arrested. A polite and

intelligent young man that I knew added again very officially: “yes

it is Bijhan.”

Exactly one month ago, Noori had requested for answering

Masood political questions we should have a rendezvous. After

that rendezvous I wished I had asked for a written questionnaire,

so Masood could not see me. The same rendezvous caused a head

ache now, revealing my identity.

They took my blindfold to my eye level, at that time I

glanced at my watch: 5:20. very fast they took the watch away

from me.

-“Take your shoes off.”

-“what is your shoe size?”

_”now will be double.”

They took my boots and socks off. One of them started to

search inside of them. Two of them laid me on a metal bed frame

on my chest. They wrapped my legs with a rope to the frame of

the bed so they can hit my foot easily. Then they stretched my

hand like a cross.

At any time, first hand experience is different. I want to

confess. The first cable was a bit different than the rest: definite

starting of a pain and good by to the beautiful life. A valediction to

the basic wish of a human being: a farewell.

The first cable wailed on my foot.

-“would you reveal your next visit?”

-“Do …y..o..u.. k..n..o…w…..where … he…re …


one of them kindly sat next to the bed. He laid his hand on

my shoulder: “my dear…tell us then you can rest. Your friend did

not get any lash and you saw him coming to your visiting place

very healthy. Masood did the same. Actually he has started to pray

to God. If you do not reveal your information you will be shattered

to pieces. Have a mercy on yourself!

Silence made their task easier.

-“leave him alone. The trash is not going to cooperate.”

The hitting by the cable started again. They were hitting my

feet with the speed of machine guns. Sometime later, a fresh

interrogation started. Swearing and yelling were mixed with the

sound of Qur’an reading in loud speaker and the howling of the


I said goodbye to my life at the first hit. The rest of the hits

were so hard that I was thinking how to tolerate them. I started to

calculate for the time of rendezvous how as long I do I have to

tolerate. I thought about the damage that organization has taken

and how many members have been arrested. Those two who had

been arrested were from the same cell. The information that the

interrogator would spill out clearly showed that they have no more

information than what they have had. They were looking for a


-“Helpless man, everything is being revealed. We know

everything now.”

-“We just want to see if you are honest and admit to the

activity. We do not need any of your useless information.”

-“Noori and Masood have revealed all the information. Why

do you want to punish yourself?”

-“Ill-starred! What the shit you did at the beginning of the

revolution when you freely printed, where you can achieve today

with the hide-out print?”

-“Where is the print shop?”

-“Who is your commander?”

-“Would you write the name of your commandeer and the

place of your rendezvous?”

It was cable and cable and cable howling through the air.

A friend of mine, who was prisoned in the Shah’s Prison,

had mentioned once that the torturers get crazy with every scream

that you make. They become hysterical. Therefore most of them

take anxiolytics before coming to the torture room. That’s why

they had invented the Apollo, a metal helmet put on the prisoner’s

head so he, the prisoner only, could hear the screams. It made their

hitting easier and them less anxious.

The Régime had not yet used the Apollo. My screams and

howls were creating chaos in that prison. I did not know how long

passed before they stopped hitting me. I felt that they were

scratching something like a pen on my soles.

They took me of the bed. They started to hit me with their

feet and fists. In the freezing weather of winter, my body was

burning. It seems they were seven players playing international

football, except, I was their ball. Dizzy and fainting, I was thrown

everywhere. I would lose consciousness in a couple a minutes.

Oh my …. , this was just the beginning.

They dragged me on the floor to the bed. They tied me again

and the beating started again. I was a body in flames in that cold




-“This is going to continue until you tell us your next

rendezvous place….

-“You will be doomed if one of your rendezvous burn….

-“Who was writing the paper?”

-“How many were printed?”

-“Where has it been distributed?”

-“How did Massod received the organization’s internal


-“Why did you want report about Friday praying?

-“Who did you delivered the report to?”

-“Where did you get all those money that you were carrying

with you?”

-“Deserter! Did you receive money from Iraq?”

“Who did you want to call with all of those 2 Rials in your

pocket? You need to tell me the telephone numbers.”

-“We will make you grovel; We will spread the rumor that

you are repentant and working with us.”

It was pain and pain….. and the cable constantly lashing my


They took me off from the bed again. Is it finished? With the

first fist the football started again. This time they were close to me

and surrounded me in a tighter circle so I could not fall on the

floor. Fists, kicks, karate, hook, straight hit uppercut, each one

landed on my body…

I could feel the inflammation under my eyes, occasionally I

felt delusional. I remembered a couple years ago when I was

practicing boxing…. I struck the boxing bag, felt it

discombobulated. The hits brought me to the reality of the torture.

I swayed and fell a couple times getting a rest break. It reminded

me of my coach and his rigorous practice.

-“This is the third time that we tied you down to the bed. No

one has not confessed by this stage. It is better not to punish

yourself anymore. Reveal all the information and then relax.”


The beating started again. I was worried about the method on

the third round. The sound of the cables hitting me was lower

pitched. Sounded like an ongoing sound of an engine room. I fell

awaken but sleepy. Slowly I imagined the faces of my loved one.

They marched in front of me. Golnar’s mom with her white hair is

looking me straight in the eye, laughing. Hamid’s youngest

brother, with his glowing face, runs toward me to play. Another

little one in a wet diaper, laughing hard. I come back to my reality

…….what are these crazy people are doing?

Nothing….the third round wasn’t anything other than cables,

hitting and all kind of profanities. My blindfold had come off a bit.

Somehow I could see a little from the corner of it. Three of them

look very tired. I am still yelling and screaming. It seems that they

are prostrated but angry and hopeless.

Football starts again. This time the head interrogator comes

closer and with his Turkish accent states: “Beat him until he dies”.

Every time that I fall, as a boxing habit, I try to get up. I get

angry at my own stupidity. I do it again. I start fighting with

myself: go to sleep, crazy man! Do you think you are in a boxing

match that you don’t want to be knocked out?

-“One hit. Only one fist hit if I may?

-“Nothing is going to happen. You just wanna show off.

How do you think the rest of the prisoners were treated?

-“I know that I would be hanged. What the heck. Just a hit,

why not?

-“All the information that they to claim have, is not really

true. It shows how much they don’t know. Remember, the enemy

knows as much as you give them.”

-“Ok, Ok, let it go. I would not hit them. Let them hit me!”

Delirium, hallucination, the sounds of the torture room, pain,

swearing and profanity …..

I was tied to the bed for the fourth time. I lay down in the

bed. Slowly I loose consciousness.

-“get up…. Wake up… it is 24 hour that you are sleeping.

Tell me how many rendezvous have you had expired now?”

I was familiar with this trick. That’s why they had taken my

watch before. “I did not have any rendezvous.” I answer

-“shut up…hit him!” the cable started.

-“Where are the hideouts?”

-“Where did you sleep at nights?”

-“With how many of your teammates did you mate?”

-“Idiot, we have found so many contraceptives.”

-“You will be hanged, bastard.”

They were finished. With every cable hit they were deeper in

a lagoon and I was resurrecting. They were the one who were

suffering. They were the meanness. They had showed what they

had. They had captured no one except Noori and Masood. They

had not reached any other part of the Organization. In the midst of

all the hitting, cables, swearing and commotion, the fear and the

possibility of the hit to the Organization was bothering me.

I was assured of my own action.

I could not see my own fee but the heaviness mixed with the

pain would not give me comfort. I thought my feet would be cut

off with a couple of more strikes. I wanted to be hanged as soon as

possible. Half dead, they took me off. They shrunk to three now.

They started to hit me as if they were all present. At the first

opportunity, I looked around from under my blindfold.

Other then this bed there was another bed with some cables

in different diameters. The cable they were hitting me with was

black with some copper wire inside of it. The metal door that we

walked through had a small window designed with two vertical

metal lines. One of them had a handcuff on it.

The three who were hitting me were 20-30 years old. Two

of them looked like outlaws and pimps.

I was tied down to the bed for the fifth time. Constant hitting

with the cable without any question or any opportunity, even time

for breathing.

-“Any time you want to confess, just open the palm of your


The hitting of the cables again reminded me of the engine

room. They still were hitting on the same spot. Seeing them from

under the blindfold and knowing that they are tired gave a hope for

killing time. This time they were hitting constant, non stop. One of

them picked up a dirty army blanket and put on my face. For

covering my mouth and nose, he sat on my chest. I was breathing

very hard. It was impossible to breath through the dirty blanket. I

was choking. His weight was an obstacle to my lungs for

expansion. My body sweat was mixed with the smell of dirty

blanket. I tried to move. My extremities were tied up. They were

hitting with the cable as hard as they could, with all of their power.

It seems that I was struggling as one who is choking.

With all my struggle, the animal who was sitting on me lost

his control and by his displacement on my chest, I could breathe a

little bit. He got back on my chest again, not as tight as last. I

could breathe a little better. The cable was howling and mad at my


Till that moment, with my yelling and screaming, I was

answering unrelated to their questions. Now it could not be

continued, they would not ask any question. It was constant

hitting. I could not say any more irrelevant answer nor did they

have any question. It was just the cable in the air landing on my

body. Both parties had understood their duties.

I opened the palm of my left hand.

-“Don’t hit, don’t hit. He wishes to talk” screamed one of


They took the blanket off of my face and the hitting was


With a throat full if dirt and blanket dust I yelled: “What are

you guys doing? I am being choked.”

-“Shit! This guy thinks he has come to a picnic.”

-“He has not been straightened up yet. Put the blanket on


The hitting started again. My body was not reacting much

anymore. It seemed that I had no more energy to fight back. It

seemed that my nerve ending were gone and would not transmit

the pain of hitting. Only one part of my calf seemed were sensing

a pounding hit.

The cable was landing on the side of my right foot and then

it would curve around the top of my foot and locked itself. I could

still feel the burning sensation.

They took me off the bed. I could not stand on my feet. Two

of them held me by my underarm and the third one started hitting

and kicking me. When he got tired, those two would drag me

around the room and slam me on the concreted wall as hard as

they throw me.

The childhood memory and the smiles were disappearing.

All that I was thinking was him not to be arrested.

Omid (hope) was a strong hard working young man.. He had

a lot of secret information about the Organization. In spite of his

youth, he had strong background of organization skills. I could not

tolerate him to be in this hell. A talented young man, an artist

without any complain. He carried the most difficulties and most

profound Organization tasks.

Half dead, I was again strapped to the bed. I was having

chills. The cold and merciless cable was pounding on my feet.

Pain does not have a measurement. I cannot be explained. But I

think this one was different than the others. I can not distinguish

the differences. I only felt that they are differing. Every one of the

hits was different than the other. It seems that they were a couple

at the same time. How many has it been since the beginning?..

How many hits can a person tolerate?…. When would one fall

unconscious or die?

My screaming was lower now. I could not understand my

interrogator’s speech. Even on the bed I was dizzy. I don’t know

why I thought the torture room does not have a ceiling and how I

could see the stars on such a wintry sky. I was tired and out of

energy… the cable hitting my leg had no limit. When I was silent,

someone hit me on my rib. The one that struck my rib cage was

the harshest. I was thinking about the traffic and the bad luck that I

had that day. I could not forgive myself for not checking the

visiting place. Indiscretion and carelessness was I.

A couple days prior to my arrest, I was some leaflet of The

Iranian People’s Fadaee Guerrillas (IPFG) related to their

experience of the Shah’s regime. I did not know why they were

insisting that 90% of the arrests had happened at the rendezvous

place. Now I should forget all the safety lessons! Absolute

movement, absolute assurance and absolute awareness! I swear at

myself but they are still hitting me with the cable. I have fallen

into their trap.

They untie me from the bed again. One of them pulls me off

of the bed and I fell on the floor. Without saying anything all three

drag me toward the metal door. They pull my hand up and hand

cuff me to the little window. They let me go. Oh my, I hang down

the door with my hand tight to the window cell. They leave me for

their own break.

I can not stand on my feet. Now my arms are killing me. The

arm pain awakens me. I have lost time. One of them comes back

with a glass of water: “Do you want some?” he asks.

-Yes” I reply.

He laid the glass on my lips and slowly I start to suck on.

-“Don’t drink too much; it is not good for your kidney!”

He left the room. I become more aware of my surroundings.

It was horrible. I felt the pain more now. There were noises from

the stairs or the hallway. Two interrogators brought a prisoner in

while yelling and swearing at him. It seemed that they did not see

me or they simply ignored me. They slammed the prisoner to the


-“You do not want to cooperate? We only let your dead body

get out of here. Will you talk or should I strap you to the bed?”

It seemed that the prisoner knew the interrogator, because

with a certain note in his tone of voice said: “Mr. Ayatollah! There

is nothing to say.”

-“Maryam has written about you and you still claim there is

nothing to say?”

-“She had said something irrelevant. How would I know?”

-“Then who was the representative of your Organization to

the Farabundo Marti’s Congress? My aunt?” (It refers to The

Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front or FMLN).

-“What are you talking?”

-“Maryam has revealed all the details!”

A fist hit the prisoner’s face. The prisoner’s voice was

familiar to me. I had doubts. Keramat had discontinued his

connection with me. I was worried about him. He had not

informed how he was doing but I was surprised to see him my first

day of the arrest.

-“How long were you active.”

-“I just studied abroad.”

-“Yes indeed. You want me to believe it.”

Activity in Iranian Student’s Confederation and relation to

all international organizanation, familiar voice and more

importantly Maryam’s name, who about two years ago was active

in our cell? I was pretty sure. During the conversation, I found that

they know a lot about Keramat, but he was rejecting all the

accusations. They tied him to a bed even though he had a fever.

It is strange, when you are waiting to contact a commarade

and you find him near you being tortured. Keramat was full of

generosity (The name of Keramat in Farsi means generosity). He

was playing with the interrogator. Not only would he not give

information to them but he was making a puzzle out of

information they had. He was a skilled chess player moving a

piece to puzzle them and waiting to checkmate them. He was


He bypassed on some questions easily which I knew it could

bring some comrades to the torture chamber and would hurt the

organization very much. After the eleventh hit, you could not hear

anything from Keramat. The interrogator hit him hard with a kick.

Nothing. After some whispering among themselves, they untied

Keramat from the bed. One of them brought a bucket of water and

dumped it on him. You could hear a very weak cry.

-“Get up. Get up. We would not bother you tonight but get it

in your head; Haji has ordered you to be beat. Every night I am

here at his order.

The forgotten pain is now coming to haunt me. The room

was in complete silence. Not far way was the sound of a television

and the mumbling of some people talking. About half an hour later

someone came and opened the handcuff.

-“I need to use the rest room” I said.

Without answering, he pulled my jacket and took me to a

room. He was wearing flip flops which he was dragging as he


In front of the bathroom, he yelled at me: “Only one minute.

Otherwise I will drag you out!”

Holding the wall, I pulled my blindfold off. I could not see

perfectly. Everything was blurred but I noticed my pee is dark and

bloody. My kidneys were still functioning.

-“Hurry up! I will open the door if you don’t.”

-“Ok. What’she matter with you?”

Pulling my blindfold down, I got out. Again without a word

he guided me to the torture bed. Near the bed, he handcuffed me to

the frame of the bed and said: “Yu could sleep on the floor.”

How tired I was. When I sat down on the floor, from under

my blindfold, I saw two strange things in front of me. They were

round and big. It took me a while to recognize my own feet.

Completely swollen and the soles of my feet were black and

rounded like a ball. I was surprised that the skin was intact. I

guessed that they had poured some kind of oil on them since they

were shiny. I felt sorry for my feet. They had no guilt. Why did

they become mine? Poor things.

I laid down. I was burning with fever. I had not laid down on

my back yet when someone came close to me and with a gentle

and kind voice said: “Are you shivering? Are you afraid?”

-“No.” I said. “It is the fever and the shiver of the cables” I


-“Yes…. This a natural reaction of the body.” He then

ordered someone to bring another blanket for me.

Quickly, they brought me another blanket, the same kind of

blanket that I was choking under. It seemed that this one is a

sensitive interrogator who wanted to attract you psychologically.

He spoke in an intellectual voice if he was not a interrogator, he

could have been an actor or perhaps a broadcaster.

-“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

-“Your coworker did this to me” I said.

-“You are wrong about the regime…… Why have you been


-“They found an article in my pocket protesting the torture in

prison. Now they are torturing me for saying there is torture in


-“They are not torturing you. This is called Tazir*. No one

is allowed to torture anyone here. This is Islamic law.”

-“Changing the name does not change your action! Torture

here is oppressing.”

-“You will not be hanged. You will be sentenced to a couple

of years.” All of your leaders have repented… Since you all are so

sincere, you are stubborn… Do you want me to bring Ahmad

Attaollahi or Atta Norian? Do you want to talk to them? You are

well aware that they were members of your central committee and

body of editors?

-“No I am not interested” I said.

-“Ok. Go to sleep… But think a little!” Then he left.

All night, I was moving between sleeping and awakening, I

had nightmares, fever and chills. With the coming light and

morning, my anxiety began to build. The sound of steps woke me


-“He is asleep?…. Wake him up….” He yelled.

Immediately they pulled the blanket off of me and hit me on

the head and face with a cable. I wanted to escape but my hands

were tight to the bed. Some of them were holding on the bed

making sure that it did not move. Like a captured bird, I was

moving in his trap trying to fly away. There were five or six of

them surrounding me. The morning torture began.

After a couple minutes, they crucified me to the bed. The

first hit was a catastrophe. It seemed that my nerve endings had

gotten rested and now they were alive and well. Not only was it

painful but it was added to the last night’s pain. They travel all

along my back. The torturers were fresh and rested. They lashes

were landing harder and stronger on my feet compare to last night.

One of them was standing on my hands and one was holding a

dirty blanket to my nose and mouth from the top. Another fat and

heavier looking Pasdar was sitting on my buttock making sure I

would not move much.

The hitting stopped for a moment. They pulled my jacket and

shirt up. This time, instead of hitting my feet, they started on my

back. With the first hit I felt part of my right side tore apart. After

some whispering, they started on my feet again. This time two of

them from each side hit my feet in a different angle and at

different times. The fat Pasdar, occasionally got off my back and

landed on his buttock on my back. His heavy weight moved the

laths of the bed but did not break my rib cages.

The pain was increasing exponentially. I felt the pain to the

end of my hair. I could not take it anymore but I would not lose

conscious. I tried to hit my head to the wood floor of the bed so I

may loose consciousness, to no avail. They were hitting worse

than before. I had no way to get this pain out of my body. Every

cell of my body was hurting. Pain was running in my vessels

instead of blood. My head was bursting. It seems that my feet

were not mine anymore. My back was on fire. My eyes were

bloody red and my eyelids were swollen and purple. My throat

was burning from screaming o much. The cables were landing on

my feet like thunder on the sky, hard.

All of a sudden my voice dropped down and the pain

subsided. They hit me some more but then they let me alone.

Several minutes later the head interrogator with a passionate voice

talked to me: “Why did they hit you so much? If I was here I

would not let them touch you…”

He did not realize that I heard his own ordering his bodies to

hit me at the beginning, and would not his benevolent voice.

-“Untie him and send him to the clinic” He ordered.

I could not walk on my feet. The skin of my soles was

ruptured and there was blood all over the end of the bed. I crawled

on my knees out of the room but could not continue more. I fell on

the floor. “Look at him. Communists are sinister and dirty, like

dogs! A human has two legs, why can’t you use them? The

Islamic compassion and affection is not necessary for you guys….

Salman, bandage his feet.” He ordered.

-“What has he done that he is so disfigured?”

The head interrogator did not answer the question and acted

as if this is not time or place to play an affection torture method.

Iodine and some wash and after that a wrap…. They walk

me back. They take me to a room size 2×3 meter without a ceiling.

On the dirty cement floor there is a filthy blanket. The head

interrogator orders me to sit on the blanket and pull my blindfold

  1. He then gives me a pen and an official prosecution form in

front of me. He wanted me to write my name and answer the

questions. They started:

“Explain in detail how were you arrested?”

In Islamic Law, tazir (or ta’zir, Arabic تعزير ) refers to

punishment, usually corporal, that can be administered at the

discretion of the judge, as opposed to the hudud (singular: hadd),

the punishments for certain offenses that are fixed by the Qur’an

or Hadith. Traditionally, ta’zir punishments could be applied to

offenses for which no punishment is specified in the Qur’an.


They could also be applied to hadd offenses in situations where

the standards of proof required for hudud punishments could not

be met.