According to reports EconomyOnline According to Etemad, the young girl comes out of the fruit shop with a bag in her hand, nothing but a banana in the bag. He looks at his hand and walks with uncertain steps. It is Yalda night, but here in one of the busiest streets in East Tehran, there is no news of the efforts of the past years. Has the corona flourished in Yalda or are people’s pockets empty? In a fruit shop, a woman hides her white hair under a scarf with one hand and hands the card to the fruit seller with the other: “Will you buy me a stock to see how much I have in my card?” After hearing 103 Tomans, he thinks a little and says quietly: “How much is a kilo of walnuts?” On the pretext of Yalda night, Hussein also opened an account on dried fruits and placed a few small bags of dried fruits in a corner of the shop. The only sign of Yalda on this big street is a van full of Hussein watermelons: “I have been selling watermelons since 7 or 8 in the morning.”
Pomegranate 22 thousand and 500 tomans, banana 35 thousand and 500 tomans, tangerine 14 thousand and 800, green apple 16 thousand and 300, Portugal 14 thousand and 900, etc. The confusing numbers have no relation to last year’s prices.
A few steps further Fruit shop There is another who has neither pomegranate for sale nor watermelon. Saman, the owner of the fruit shop, says: “You are happy, are you looking for watermelon on Yalda night? In previous years, I used to bring a watermelon Nissan, it would end overnight, but this year, you see, there is no news. Why should I bring it when I know no one buys it? Everyone comes, takes inventory and leaves. I would like to say that until a few years ago, on the night of Yalda, we used to sell boxes of fruit, last year a kilo, this year also a seed. If it continues like this, next year people will pass by the fruit shop like antique shop. “They take a look and that’s it.”
On the contrary, clothing stores with their green and red showcases are prepared for Yalda. They remind one of someone who has cleaned the house, prepared the food, and is ready for the guest to come, but there is no news of the guest, just as the shopkeepers stand at the back of their shops, watching the passers-by.
Uncle Majid in a large white mask with his long white mustache protruding from side to side of the mask, squats in a corner of his laundry shop and flips through his office, and his large, green washing machine washes the blankets with soothing music: “No. Only Yalda night is over, our work and business is over. After all, people used to go to parties, funerals, weddings, they even gave us their clothes to wash or iron, but now sometimes they bring us curtains and blankets. There is no problem for us to lose our job and business, I am satisfied, God willing, we will get rid of this disease sooner. By God, I have not kissed or seen my grandchildren for months; What else can we do … By the way, these days the children call and say that I will come to your house for Yalda night. I told them all to sit in your father’s house, you do not have to play in this guest coronation situation. “We call a picture on our phone and tablet and we fall in love.” He talks fast and is constantly forced to lift his mask. It seems like he has been waiting for a long time to talk. It seems that no matter what they are talking about, Uncle Majid just wants to talk. He takes a deep breath and begins again: “The father of this property next to our shop has died. I told his son, out of respect for your father, I will close the shop today and install the notice. “He said, ‘Please do not do this, people understand that in this situation they come home to offer condolences.’
This year, it seems that Corona has dismantled large family overnight parties on Yalda night. But the whistle and blindness of the Afshin nut shop announces that the celebration has been disbanded, even in small family gatherings. The smell of roasted seeds has filled Afshin’s small shop. “Last year, I earned 5 million on Yalda night, but this year, I have not sold a single kilo of nuts to God since morning,” he says. You see how good this pistachio is, 220 tomans per kilogram. I mix this walnut for 235 tomans per kilo and pour a few other things into it, which averages 135 kilos per kilo, but still no one buys it. “I think I will have to separate again in two or three days.” The peddler has laid flowers in front of the confectionery cafe. Flowers with watermelon design. Passers-by look and pass: “Come, I have brought a special flower for Yalda night. Watermelon and pomegranate flowers. “Come and buy it when it’s over.” Maybe a little girl will take one of them as an excuse and her mother will have to buy it; What have you seen of God? There is no cold outside inside the confectionery cafe. The warmth and smell of sweets leave you feeling. There are white tables and chairs in the middle of the pastry, and a couple of young couples are sitting on one side, with the families of four others on the other. Soraya, the owner of a confectionery cafe, says: “Our customers have decreased compared to last year. Most of them sit here, eat a donut and leave. “Purchases per kilogram have decreased.” He himself does not want to go to parties like Uncle Majid, Saman, Hussein, Afshin, etc. He says: Because our confectionery has a customer until late. Of course, the situation is not good this year. “Every year, we get good work and business from Yalda, which also declines.”
Last year, no one bought shoes for Yalda. However, many people calculate that if they put their teeth on the liver for 3 months, they can buy a good pair of shoes for Eid night, but no one went to Yalda’s party with torn shoes. Mahmoud, one of the old shoemakers on Parstar Street, is busy sewing, dosing and patching with his 3 students. A woman enters and asks for a black color for the shoe and explains that a little next to the little toe of her right shoe has turned white. One of the students says that we have 70,000 foreign sprays and 40,000 Iranians. The woman knows that her money does not go abroad, she says, “Then I will buy her foreigner.” Mahmoud says that his Iranian lady is very good. The woman is satisfied and pulls her card out from under the nylon. Uncle Mahmoud’s student draws a card: “There is no stock, madam.” Uncle Mahmoud also told his children and grandchildren to make a video call on the night of Yalda to offer alms to them from afar: “What celebration, what Yalda?”
Here, in one of the busiest streets in East Tehran, passers-by pass in front of shops, children buy donuts or watermelons with watermelon designs, adults ask for prices and push their cards to get some stock for them.