Once again, Qasr Prison
By the orders of military justice, I was transferred to Shahrbani [the police] Prison on July 19th 1972. Since the prison was quarantined, they queued up us to frisk. They searched the mouth and all the cloths even the underwear. When it was my turn, the officer told me: “Open your mouth!” I said: “No. I won’t!” We were about to fight that another agent intervened and said: “Sir! He is a political prisoner and not addicted.” Then he said: “So, why he is here. Change his place.”
They took me to another room. It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon that they came to me and said that I had to go to another prison. They took me to a bus. In the bus, they handcuffed my left hand to an addict’s. Moments later the addict said: “Hey, man; I don’t like to be handcuffed.” Then he opened it with a pin in less than few moments. He also taught me how to open it.
The bus was moving through the city streets. I found out that we were going to Qasr Prison. The prison that hosted(!) me in 1967 and 1966 along with INP members. When we reached to the gate of the prison, the addict locked the handcuff again. We entered Qasr Prison. After doing the usual paperwork they took me to Prison No. 4.[1] From the very early behavior of the Prison officials I found out there had been many changes made and prisoners and officials did not know me. It seemed they had all changed.
They took me to the interrogation room. A lieutenant was sitting there who began advising me and said: “I f you show a good rational behavior, you would be forgiven and freed. I showed myself as a simpleminded and timid man. He also talked about the discipline and silence governing the prison and then called an agent and told him: “Take him to Prison No. 4”
As what that lieutenant had said, that hour was the hour of resting and I had to be silent when entering the row. I would step so silently that nobody would hear my footsteps. The door opened slowly. I entered the corridor. There was a particular silence. I moved some steps. Suddenly I heard the explosion of laughter that filled the entire corridor. I was surprised. The one who was
laughing shouted: “Hey palls! Ahmad, the bald is coming…” He was laughing and shouting. The palls came out of their rooms and made a link around me. I found out the one who was shouting was Haj Abulfazl Heydari[1]. I suppose he had seen me when coming back from toilet all by sudden. Thus, the silence broke up in the prison. The palls around me put me on their shoulders and shouted: “Ahmad came. Ahmad came!”
The agent beside me reported this scene to the lieutenant in charge. When he saw that I was ignorant to his advises he did not talk to me anymore and never called me. He found out that I was not a new prisoner…!
Among the INP members I saw Mohammad Mir Mohammad Sadeghi, Abulqasem Sarhadizadeh, and Kazem Bojnourdi and from the members of Islamic Coalition Councils, I saw Ayatollah Mohiyeddin Anvari, Habibullah Asgarowladi, Haj Mehdi Araghi, Abulfazl Heydari, Hashem Amani, and Ahmad Shah Budaghlou. I knew them as my friends but cautiously I did not say anything about Hezbollah and told them that I had been arrested for because of Saeed Mohammadi Fateh.
The first few days passed for giving and getting the news and in later days, after seeing the behavior of prisoners I found out there was a strict dividing border between the Marxists and Muslims. The Muslims would avoid any contact or encounter with the Marxists.
Once again, I began my usual program. I would study. I would take part in classes by Ayatollah Anvari, Habibullah Asgarowladi and Ezzatullah Sahabi. In general, I had a comprehensive and disciplined program for myself.
The food program was as what it was in past. Haj Mehdi Araghi would provide the food materials and then cook the food with the help of others. For sports I would usually follow Ping Pong and Volleyball. The games were sometimes scenes of facing two main trends in prison; the Marxists and Muslims. We (Muslims) were superior in these two games with the presence of Sarhaddizadeh with us. We would hold the daily prayers on time. We had nice nights there. We would walk with each other in the prison yards and sometime some palls would smoke. We would also hold the Islamic ceremonies in their own cases and time.
The days in Qasr with all those old friends, were days of memories which made our mind’s structure. With all these things the days were passing one after the other.
[1] Abulfazl Heydari, son of Mahmood, was born in 1940. He was selling grains in Bazaar of Tehran that got acquainted with Islamic Coalition Councils and joined them and began political activity. After the assassination of Hassan Ali Mansour on February 9th 1965, he was arrested along with some other members by the accusation of attempting against the national security and carrying unlawful gun and then sentenced to life imprisonment.
[1] Prison No. 4 in Qasr Prison had a big yard. There was a pool in the middle and some berry trees around it. When entering the row’s gate you would see a narrow corridor with 7 rooms; 3 big rooms and 4 small ones. Each big room had a big window opening to the yard. There was a porch behind the rooms. There was also an arbor down the pool that was covered with some grape trees.
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