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!”
-“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
- 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
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
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.
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
-“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 …..is?
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
-“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
-“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
-“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,
-“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
-“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
- 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