To say that, by and large, we Iranians are proud of our ancient culture and the Persian language – often to a fault – is to point out the obvious. In naming our children, we look back to our emperors and the legendary heroes of ancient Iran. We revel in the syrupy sweetness of Persian as the words of Hafez, Rumi and myriad other mystics and bards languidly roll off our tongues, leaving us and our audiences spellbound. We believe, as Sa’di once wrote, that mankind is one, but nonetheless regard our roots and distinct identity with an ineffable reverence and joy. Yet, there might have been relatively little left of our indigenous culture and the Persian language to celebrate today, had one particular poet not been around.

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Completed by Abolqasem Ferdowsi in the early 11th Century, the Shahnameh (Book of Kings) is not only a literary masterpiece, but also a book that has for centuries helped define Iran and the Iranian peoples, as well as safeguard the existence of the Persian language. Consisting of more than 50,000 rhyming couplets, it is the longest poem ever written by a single author. It is not an epic about a single defining event, a fantastical voyage, or a particular pair or star-crossed lovers or arch-rivals, as is the case with many national epics. Although certainly brimming with the aforementioned, the Shahnameh is an epic centred around the very essence and soul of Iran; and, while ancient Iran is its chief object, the book’s messages are timeless, and in many cases may well have been written for humanity as a whole.

Breaking the silence

To appreciate the importance of Ferdowsi’s magnum opus, it is crucial to understand the context in which it was written. After the Arab invasion of Iran in the 7th Century and the fall of the Sassanian Empire, there followed one of the darkest periods in Iran’s history. Under the reign of Iran’s foreign occupiers, adherents of its indigenous monotheistic Zoroastrian faith were persecuted, libraries were burned, and the Persian language vehemently suppressed during, as Iranians term it, the ‘two centuries of silence’. With Islam being the new order of the day, and Arabic the language of Iran’s new governors, the Persian language was, as with Zoroastrianism and indigenous Iranian culture as a whole, at risk of extinction. While some submitted to the yoke of the occupiers and tried to find a place for themselves within a strange new world, other Iranians chose to resist.