Fallen Hero Mojtaba Rostaei
Death Mojtaba Rostaei 40 years old in Iran Tehran Afserieh
Written by: Roodabeh
He arranged the last layer of pizza and stood in front of the oven; The heat settled on his face, but his heart was running through streets where the sound of protest had not yet risen from its slumber. — "Where's your head? We still have customers... Just the last three, son..." Mojtaba quickly prepared the rest of the orders. He was the chef at Palm Cafe in Afsarieh; he worked until late. When they closed the shop, he sat on the back of his friend's motorcycle to go home. That night, he talked to me until late. His voice was calm; the same voice that, when Dariush sang, became like an old wound. He said: — "Sara... There's a call to action tomorrow and the day after. The Prince has said to come out or chant from home... This time it's different... Do you think people will come?" I laughed. My suitcase was in the corner of the room. I was planning to travel. He, however, seemed to have caught the scent of trouble. On the morning of 8 January (18 Dey), Mojtaba headed for the cafe, and I, for the airport. An indistinct fervor stirred within his heart; a longing for the night, a longing for streets that might fill with cries, and simultaneously a heavy apprehension, like a cloud cree…
تهران · افسریه · شلیک گلوله · مجتبی روستایی
