It was the summer of 1979. I was 19 years old and looking forward to adjusting and enhancing my life and building up my future only a few months after the revolution in Iran. The political system had been changed by force of people and, despite all the ups and downs, the city was calm and people were going about their normal activities.
There was a very high ideological temper among young people. There were many lectures and sermons delivered by scholars and politicians in the city. People were friendlier and there was a very high sense of closeness in the community. Everybody was trying to contribute to society and help one another.
I joined as a volunteer in the local mosque, which was a very active community center. I undertook to teach English to younger teenagers in a summer program in the nearby school. I found new friends. We worked together and we also organized study groups for ideological subjects. They were the best days of my life, and I was flourishing, learning new skills.
In our group, three of my close friends wore glasses. They really needed to have them due to the condition of their eyes. However, it had become fashionable and people liked to wear them to look more intellectual. I had headaches and minor difficulty reading books. I was also encouraged to visit the optician to have my eyes checked.
The optician prescribed low degree glasses. I was wearing it all the time and, although I really did not need it; they became part of my face. I was also happy to look more intellectual like my friends.
Since my graduation from high school, I had started working with my father on a part time basis. He was a land surveyor. We used to go to the south of Tehran, a poor and low down neighborhood to carry out surveying for the purpose of installing a new sewage system. One day in the field, I was hammering a small nail into the ground. It was a very hard surface and I had to knock it harder. Suddenly, the head of the nail broke off and hit my glasses. I did not feel anything. I was just so hocked by the impact that, for a minute, I thought it had hit my eyes.
I removed my glasses and noticed a sheer cut through the glass. But there was no sign of the piece of nail. It was miraculous. I touched my face and my eye was OK. I could see and there was no blood. The glass saved my eye. It was a memorable day and turning point in my life. I keep the glass in the memory of this unforgatable experience.
If the piece had touched my eye, it would have certainly blinded me. It could have changed my life and forced me in a different direction. I often think about it and imagine a different route, lifestyle, education and family and children in my life. It could have changed my opportunities to go to university, travel overseas and get married. It was my destiny to have those pair of glasses for a short period of time to protect my eyes. From that day onwards, I did not wear the glasses. I never needed to wear glasses again.