SAEDNEWS: At the shrine’s shoe-stand stood the Indian prince, brother of the late Mohammad Najaf Mirza. Seeing him was so oddly comical that one couldn’t help but laugh—even if tragedy struck right before your eyes.
According to the Saed News Social Affairs Service, this entry focuses on the memoirs of Naser al-Din Shah on Thursday, 21 Ramadan 1287 (24 Azar 1249 in the Iranian calendar).
In his memoirs, Naser al-Din Shah wrote:
I woke up in the morning; my back teeth ached intermittently and caused me great discomfort. We went to the men’s bath, accompanied by Erfanji and others. The herald was shouting, so I ordered him to be struck. They said the photographer’s mule had lost its load and was making noise. It was very cold, and a harsh, biting wind was blowing.
After lunch, numerous letters from Khorasan, Sistan, and Tehran were read, and I wrote responses. The women of the harem went for pilgrimage late and returned late as well. With two hours remaining until sunset, we went for visitation. The judge and the Karbala assembly members were at the gate of the pavilion. Vakil al-Molk from Kerman had sent two falcons, 500 tomans, a shawl, felt, and a carpet. The deputy aide had arrived from Bandar Abbas via the Tigris River and presented himself.
In summary, we went for visitation. Near the shoeshiner stood the Indian prince—the brother of the late Mohammad Najaf Mirza, residing in Iran here as a court attendant. His name was Zahed al-Din Shah, brought by Yahya Khan. Pasha and others were present, as well as Hessam al-Saltaneh and others.
When I saw the prince, he appeared so extraordinary that one could not help but laugh; even if a beloved were to die before them, it would be impossible not to laugh at this sight.
He wore a tattered, old silk and gold-embroidered robe, with a strange and indescribable hat—neither a turban nor a scarf, neither Arabic nor Persian, Roman, European, nor Indian. Around the hat hung pieces of fabric covering his ears and head. The hat was loose, with a large, dirty ornament sewn with imitation gems onto the fabric. His beard was neither black nor white, neither long nor short, neither pointed nor bushy, and its color was indescribable—neither purple, white, black, brown, blue, nor yellow. His trousers were dirty white, and his thick woolen socks were old and grimy.
The prince’s appearance was so strikingly absurd that I nearly choked with laughter. He presented two bottles of perfume and an old, worn European golden snuffbox after bowing. I could hardly bear to look at him.
Many nobles and dignitaries were present. The prince stood behind me. My laughter overwhelmed me to the point of tears and near outburst, despite the pilgrimage leader’s prolonged recitation. I managed to restrain myself and entered the shrine. The prince followed, and I again found it impossible not to laugh, even during prayer.
After prayers, we visited Hazrat Abbas, where the prince had created further amusement. Today, because of this prince, the entire day passed in uncontrollable laughter and mischief.
Finally, we returned home at sunset. I ate some lettuce. The women of the harem arrived, including Mahtab Khanum Qamar al-Saltaneh, Anis al-Dowleh, and others.
Haji Qasem Beyk, aide of the second regiment, had gone for pilgrimage tonight. He came, had tea, and reportedly died. The chief aide noted—meaning for tomorrow—that he had eaten leftovers from the previous night and passed away.
We slept at night. Anis al-Dowleh…
