In the land of the lion and sun, or, modern Persia

by C. J. Wills

Then again commence the cries, the whistlings, the agitating flags, and the liberation of single or pairs or flights of birds. As one of Mr. A.’s birds is being convoyed towards B.’s roof with a pair of his, Mr. C. envelops the three in a cloud of pigeons, and the whole flock alight—C.’s flight in his own dovecot, and A.’s bird and B.’s pair, as timid strangers, on a neighbouring wall; A. and B. vainly screaming while their two flocks keep circling high in air. C., B., and A. simultaneously run over roofs and walls to get near the birds. But B. and A. have a long way to travel, while happy C. is close by; he crouches double, and carrying in one hand a kind of landing-net, makes for the birds; in his bosom is a fantail pigeon, in his left hand some grain. Artful B. throws a stone and his two birds rise and fly home, and with a fancier’s delight he watches C.; but A. is too far off for this manœuvre, and hurries over roof after roof. Too late! C. has tossed his fantail down near A.’s bird, the fantail, struts about calling “Ba-ba-koo, ba-ba-koo!” The prize has his attention taken and stoops to peck the seed that C. has tossed over a low wall. As he does so C.’s landing-net is on him, the fantail flies lazily home, and C., shouting and brandishing his capture, makes the best of his way to the roof of his own premises.

Then the flights begin again, rival fanciers from distant roofs liberate their flocks, flags are waved, and the drama, with endless variations, is repeated. Once a fancier always a fancier, they say.

A. repairs to C.’s house to buy back his bird at six or more times its intrinsic value, for to leave a bird in the hands of a rival fancier might cost the man his whole flock on a subsequent occasion, the captured birds, of course, acting as the best of decoys.

The favourite birds are ornamented with little rings or bracelets of silver, brass, or ivory, which are borne like bangles on the legs (the mallagh, or tumbler, has no feathers on the leg) and rattle when the bird walks; these bangles are not ransomed, but remain lawful prize.

As the colours of the birds are very different, one soon recognises the individual birds of one’s neighbours’ collections, and the interest one feels in their successes and defeats is great. Our high roof, towering over most others, made us often sit and watch the pigeon-flying; and the circling birds as they whirred past us, flight after flight, against the blue, cloudless sky near sunset, was a sight worth seeing. The fanciers were many of them old men, and some actually lived on the ransom exacted from the owners of their captives.

These pigeon-fanciers had a slang of their own, and each coloured bird had a distinctive name. So amused were we that I ordered my groom to buy a flight of pigeons and commence operations; but Syud Houssein, the British Agent, pointed out that it would be infra dig. to engage in a practice that was considered incorrect. It is strange that sporting, or what is called sporting, generally leads, even in the East, to blackguardism.

Card-playing, too, is only indulged in by the less reputable of the community; there is only one game, called Ahs an Ahs; it is played with twenty cards—four kings, four soldiers (or knaves), four queens (or ladies), four latifeh (or courtesans), and four ahs (or aces). This latter is shown generally by the arms of Persia, “the Lion and Sun.” The lion is represented couchant regardant, bearing a scimitar, while the sun (“kurshid,” or head of glory) is portrayed as a female face having rays of light around it; this is shown as rising over the lion’s quarters. There is only this one game of cards played with the gungifeh (or cards); they can hardly be called cards, as they are made of papier-maché an eighth of an inch thick, and elaborately painted. As much as ten tomans can be given for a good pack. European cards are getting generally used among the upper classes, who, under the name of bank or banco, have naturalised the game of lansquenet. But as Persians have an idea that all is fair at cards, like ladies at round games, they will cheat, and he who does so undetected is looked on as a good player (“komar-baz zereng,” clever gamester).

Chess (“shahtrenj”) is much played by the higher classes, but in the Indian manner, the pawn having only one square to pass and not two at the first, as with us. Backgammon, too, is in great vogue; the dice, however, are thrown with the hand, which leads to great “cleverness,” an old hand throwing what he likes; but as the usual stakes are a dinner or a fat lamb, not much harm is done.

The lower orders have a kind of draughts played on a board (marked somewhat similar to our Fox and Geese), and at each angle of which is placed a mor (seal), i. e. piece. This game is generally played on a brick or large tile, the board being chalked, the pieces stones; they are moved from angle to angle. I never could fathom how it is played, the rules being always different and seemingly arbitrary.

Another game is played on a wooden board or an embroidered cloth one; this is an ancient one called takht-i-pul. I have a very old embroidered cloth forming the board, the men being of carved ivory, given me by Mr. G⸺, of the Persian Telegraph Department, but I never could find two Persians who agreed as to the rules. Pitch-and-toss is constantly engaged in by the boys in the bazaar.