In Isfahan, that paragon of Iranian cities, there is a zurkhaneh . This is a ritual gymnasium, where a ring of men and boys of all ages, shapes and sizes, exercise with great wooden truncheons, bow-shaped weights and chunky shields, culminating in a moment of throw-wrestling, a moment of stylised violence. Above the exertions sits the Morshed , or Master on his raised platform. Throughout the session, he recites verses from the great Persian Book of Kings, the Shahnameh , from the poetry of Rumi and Hafez and intones Shia hymns to Mohammed, Imam Ali and his martyred sons.
Images of the great Imam surmount pictures of improbably muscled champions, benefactors, hanging swordfish bills, and strings of leather shorts, which hang over a shallow octagonal pit. Here, the pahlevani spin, leap, juggle, wrestle, throw weights and call in response to the salutations of the Morshed , blowing into his flute, beating his drum, and striking bells.
The zurkhaneh relies on donations, and carries out its social work largely through fund-raising matches. It accepts athletes from all sections of society and is more like a brotherhood than a gymnasium — characterised by ritualised mutual recognition, patience for younger members and absolute deference to the Master. There is a rhythm inside — unlike a conventional gymnasium, exercise here is a team sport. The octagonal pit is small so the pahlevani are always alert to each other, getting out of the way, changing places, each taking turns to lead the group as they move through the cycles of exercise.
Zurkhaneh traditions date to Parthian times, and may still carry Zoroastrian inflections into the age of Islam. After the Arab conquest of the 7th century, the zurkhaneh became secret societies, preserving Persian traditions and identity in the face of occupation and conversion. The ritual chants are a type of oral history, a way of passing down the legends and lore of Persia.
A crucible of sorts for the modern Iranian identity, the zurkhaneh enjoyed prominence under the Shahs of the Qajar and Pahlavi dynasties. The current clerical regime is ambivalent; its chants invoke pre-Islamic glory; but it is also a symbol of a resurgent nationalism. The combination of physical experience and spirituality is reminiscent of Sufism. Indeed, Morshed is the word used for the head of a Sufic order.
The zurkhaneh is a physical representation of two contrary longings that fold together to form Iranian selfhood — the love for Ali’s family and the glory of Persia. This place is a cult to both, a sacred stage for an invocation of the bravery of Husayn, but also the feats of Rostam, Persia’s legendary hero. The ring of men in the domed arena embody this ambiguity in their invocation of both Ali and Rostam, Islam and Persia, glorying Shia Imams through Sufi practices. It is the ambiguity that gives this martial dance its power, tension and pathos.
Abhimanyu Arni read history and politics at the University of Oxford and now teaches and writes in Bengaluru.
