Father was glad he knew at least three other doctors who wanted to work with him on budgeting a proposal to improve the amenities of their hospital, but they would not be able to have their meetings in the hospital for now. Crowd control was at an all-time high in all corners of Iran because of the protests against brutality that had seized the country for the last few months. College campuses were being excessively staffed with police, any woman who did not cover even a bit of her neck or arm was being threatened with arrest, and any sort of gathering in public was patrolled with suspicion. Because Father was a member of the Assyrian community, a Christian sect which happened to be one of the oldest and proudest clans of mankind, he knew he was going to be watched with even further scrutiny. He had been brought up used to having his identity threatened, but in the last two months, he was starting to wonder if life for all minorities, particularly of different religious communities, would start to see more restriction and harassment.
Father had chosen his house because it was in a prosperous and private part of Tehran. Darrous was full of well-lined streets, cedar trees, and embassies, and his house was well gated. It was a neighbourhood for the privileged. He had assumed it would attract little attention because little attention was paid to the lives of the people here in the first place, an area too residential for people to come for the sake of provoking a conversation.
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