Faruzeh: Hurry up I told them dinner at...

Faruzeh: Hurry up I told them dinner at eight! (Hosro starts picking at the food, she turns to him.) Take off that school uniform, you have to leave soon.

Hosro: Do I have to go to the mosque with Baba? Please?

Faruzeh: Yes! It’s all arranged, he’s waiting for you outside Salim's shop in 5 minutes.

Hosro: It’s not fair, please can’t you tell him I’m sick. I’ll stay in my room I promise I won’t bother you…. Oh go on?

Abbas: I don’t see why he can’t stay here?

Faruzeh: (Exasperated.) If Hosro doesn't join him for evening prayers, he’ll stay home praying on the floor here in the middle of dinner.

Abbas: Please Hosro? Look, I’ll give you extra pocket money to spend with your friends on Saturday.

Hosro: OK. (Big sigh, he ambles out the door grabbing a handful of nuts off the table as he goes.)

(Faruzeh begins folding paper serviettes into fans and putting them into the glasses. Abbas puts a CD in the CD player of Arab pop songs with the volume low. The doorbell rings, Faruzeh takes off her apron and goes out the door. She returns with Sepideh and Sadam. Sadam plonks two bottles of wine on the table.)

Sadam: I see we have the house to ourselves!

(They kiss each other on the cheeks and sit down to eat, passing the dishes between them.)

Sadam: (Uncorking the wine and filling their glasses. He holds his own full glass up in the air.) Here’s to us! By the way what have you done with your old man?

Faruzeh: Ohh…. He’s at the mosque with Hosro.

Abbas: I wish he’d f#$king go and live there! (Picks up his glass of wine and drains it in one gulp.) He’s getting worse by the day, I can’t stand it! Those prayers every bloody morning, he’s even kicked a hole in the bedroom door.

Faruzeh: He hasn’t, it’s just dented.

Abbas: How many times have I trodden on his insulin syringes in my bare feet? I ask you? (He stands up away from the table.) I sat on one too the other day, I got the needle stuck in my arse, it snapped and I had to go to Casualty. (He throws up his hands.) Just think! I had to wait three hours because they said it wasn’t an emergency, and I couldn’t even sit down.

(They all laugh while Abbas dances, snapping his fingers in the air, stamping a loud rhythm to the Arab pop music. He dances under the chandelier glistening with sweat.

Sepideh: Where'd you get that chandelier? Three tiers and nine arms, and in here?

Abbas: The old man bought it. I told him it’ll bring the ceiling down!

Faruzeh: He sits for hours every day under it, dreaming he's still living in the sun.

Abbas: More like remembering his days as the school head master caning all the students.

Faruzeh: That's not fair, he wasn't like that then, he was fun.

Abbas: So you keep saying.

Faruzeh: Well he was, he wasn't even religious. Something bad happened when we were kids, and we don't know what. (Faruzeh takes a drag on her cigarette.) I've tried asking Auntie Banul, and all I get is 'let the past be the past.' (Faruzeh stubs out her cigarette.) He changed. After we came here and after mum jumped off the balcony, he's just got worse and I feel sorry for him.

Abbas: I bet he drove her to jump off, so try feeling sorry for me.

(The old man walks straight into the sitting room followed by a sheepish Hosro. The table freezes and conversation stops. The old man strides over to the window, he doesn’t notice the dinner.)

Old man: The boy wanted to come home, says he feels sick…. It’s stuffy in here, the air is no good! (Shakes his head.) No good air is bad for the brain.

(The old man opens the curtains and leans his head outside. Abbas whips up the wine bottles. He goes to the wall shelf and quickly hides the bottles behind a photograph of a holy man. He’s in such a fluster he puts the photograph back upside down.)

Faruzeh: Hosro?

Hosro: I can’t help it if I feel sick. (He looks ashamed and guilty.) I’m going to bed.

Old man: (Closing the curtains and turning to Hosro.) Bring my insulin I need a shot!

(Hosro goes out the sitting room door. Faruzeh is panic-stricken and she sinks down in her chair. Abbas sits down too, looking worried.)

Abbas: Do you remember Sadam? And Sepideh?

Sadam: Good evening Sir.

(The old man steps over to the table, he peers closely at Sadam.)

Old man: Yes, my pleasure. (Pointing his finger at Sadam.) You’re the one that married that fatty beautiful girl.

(Sadam stands up offering his hand. Sepideh stays in her seat.)

Old man: (Ignoring Sadam, leaning forward, looking hard at Sepideh.) Ehh, your husband not with you?

(Meanwhile Hosro has come back in, he’s waiting with the syringe and insulin behind the old man, he coughs.)

Old man: (Turning round.) Oh there you are!

(The old man sits down on the sofa, pulls his tunic up over his knee, prepares his syringe and jabs his thigh. The two guests are watching while Faruzeh and Abbas try not to notice and Hosro leaves the sitting room to go to bed.)

Old man: (He stands up and throws the syringe on the sofa.) Well, I never got the chance to recite my Isha prayers, Abbas, Sadam let us pray!

Abbas: We’re eating.

Sadam: Erh, yeah, maybe after we’ve finished Sir.

Old man: Greed will be your downfall! (He turns his back to them, and stands on his prayer mat reciting verses under his breath bowing up and down.)

Abbas: This tart is delicious.

Faruzeh: Yes, I picked it up from the new bakery next to the shop. I had a hard time choosing.

Sepideh: Have you heard they’re opening an ice skating rink at the park?

Abbas: Ice rink? It’s not winter yet.

Sepideh: It’ll be all year round, refrigerated under a dome.

Old man: (The old man gets up and comes over to the table, he picks up some tart and shoves it in his mouth and starts talking with his mouth full.) Refrigerated! What a waste of money, tsk, it will be a failure. (He shakes his head sadly.) Who’ll want to go? (He shrugs his shoulders.) Now! (He jabs his finger at them, then takes a chair and sits down.) I’ve been thinking of a plan! A good business, do you know what? A laundry service! Buy some washing machines and some irons and you know with a small investment we could make a lot of business…. Tsk…. Everybody has dirty washing! Women work, who has time to wash? Huh? (He stuffs more tart in his mouth.) Now I’ve been looking into this laundry business, it’s a good thing. Get some machines and then you start.

Abbas: (Sarcastic.) Of course, how stupid I am! Why on earth didn’t I think of it?

Old man: Because you’re a fool, born a fool and will always be a fool. Ha ha, it’s clear we only need to look at you! (Suddenly taking in how Abbas is actually dressed.) And what is that you are wearing tonight? (He stands up and points at Abbas, his voice rising.) A lady’s dressing gown? What are those wooden contraptions you have upon your feet? Oh my God, what is this? Has my idiot daughter married a sissy boy, a pansy? Ooh, don’t look shocked, the truth is always the truth.

Faruzeh: Dad, that’s enough, finish your prayers!

Old man: (Slams his fist down on the table.) Finish my prayers? Who are you to tell me what I must do? What do you know of Qiyaam al-Layl? If a man is tired from long standing and recitation, he may allow some rest. True believers forsake their beds at night to invoke their lord in fear and hope and you! (Points his finger at Abbas.) He who sleeps all night gets up ill-natured and lazy!

Abbas: I’ve become a Buddhist and follow the eightfold path! You’re the one who gets up ill-natured and lazy. Old man: You filthy blaguard, what is this Buddhist rot? You were born a Muslim and will always be Muslim, so shut your bloody mouth and stop blaspheming. Who do you think you are? Are you Chinese? I dare say your guts are fat enough to be a Buddha. (He walks away from the table and turns back to face Abbas.) You want to kill me? How much shame must I carry on my shoulders? You are a donkey that’s why you think you’re a Buddhist. A Muslim should never give the Quran to a Buddhist. They mistake it for a comic book with a Mickey Mouse character called Mohammed in it. You’re an imbecile just like them!

Sadam: Mr Babai, Sir, Buddha never professed himself a god, so what’s the harm?

Old man: Don’t you stick your big nose in my family affairs, you are here without your wife and she (Points to Sepideh.) is here without her husband. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. I know what’s going on, in my own house too! (Points to Faruzeh.) It’s a bad day when an old man comes home from the mosque, he wishes to pray and his prayers are drowned with talk of tarts. Am I disturbing your fine dinner party? Why wasn’t I invited? Not even your own son! Why do you arrange all this without your family? (He looks down under the table and kicks a plate across the floor.) And how many times have I told you not to feed the bloody dog on our PLATES!

(The old man storms off through the screen doorway into his bedroom. He turns on the lamp. The bedroom lights up. He sits down on the bed. The others continue eating in silence. Abbas gets up from the table and turns up the pop music very loud.)

Faruzeh: (Shouting.) Abbas, turn it down!

Abbas: (Shouting.) No! He’s ruined my evening, I’ll ruin his sleep! (He starts to pile up the plates. The others help him and they clear the dining table taking everything out through the door to the kitchen.)

(In his room the old man begins to undress, taking off his jacket and tunic, standing in his long underpants, his back is criss-crossed with scars. He pulls his long nightshirt over his head and gets into bed, turning off the bedside lamp. The bedroom darkens.)

Abbas: (Enters the sitting room alone and wipes down the dining table with a cloth.) Bugger him!

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