Dey 10, 1403 (December 30, 2024) – It was early Dey, and although the weather was cold, there was no sign of heavy snow or nighttime frost. I recall that in the winter of 1386 (2007), Yazd endured 33 consecutive days of frost, severely damaging many eucalyptus trees across the city.
Now, in the second week of Dey, the weather was still pleasant for travel. Two old friends, my former classmates from Abadan, had contacted me earlier about their third visit to Yazd. One of them travels from Canada to Iran yearly, while the other lives in Tehran. We all share a love for books and short trips, and they have a deep appreciation for Yazd and its culture.
When we visit Tehran, we usually stroll through the downtown area, especially around the University of Tehran and Valiasr Square, stopping by bookstores before settling in a teahouse for tea and conversation. However, rising prices have limited our book purchases, and given the current uncertainty, we rarely discuss the future.
My friends arrived in Yazd late at night and checked into their hotel. We spoke briefly by phone and planned our first day’s visit to Mazraeh-ye Kalantar and Pir-e Sabz. The next morning at 8:30, I headed to Parsian Safaiyeh Hotel, their accommodation (Photo 1). This hotel, with both old and new sections, once belonged to the late Reza Sarrafzadeh.
From what I gathered, the Parsian hotels, including this one, are confiscated properties managed by the Mostazafan Foundation, along with vast lands, industries, and transportation services like railways and airlines. How they are managed today is another story.
The original hotel and much of its surrounding gardens were founded in 1335 SH (1956) by the late Reza Sarrafzadeh, a prominent Yazdi entrepreneur. He owned large parts of Safaiyeh and initiated its urban development in the 1950s. He had previously established Jonoob Textile Factory, employing hundreds of workers. Near the hotel, where Azadegan Park now stands, he built an open-air drive-in cinema, a rare concept in Iran at the time. I remember visiting it with my uncle, seeing cars neatly parked in rows, with tables and chairs beside them where people enjoyed sandwiches and drinks while watching a movie under the open sky.
Unfortunately, after 1979, most of Sarrafzadeh’s assets were confiscated. He spent years in exile, later returned to Tehran, and passed away in 1367 SH (1988).
In front of the Safaiyeh Hotel reception, a vintage 1952 Mercedes-Benz caught my attention (Photo 2), evoking memories of 1930s American gangster movies. The hotel’s interior is a striking blend of traditional and modern architecture (Photo 3), with stunning Shahnameh battle scenes and other historical artworks adorning the walls. The overall ambiance is peaceful—but, of course, maintaining that peace comes at a five-star price!
On this day, a kind fellow Zoroastrian driver graciously agreed to accompany us on our one-day journey. As a resident of Mazraeh-ye Kalantar, he knew the local roads well, which put our minds at ease. By the time we set off, it was already past 9 AM, but everything was going smoothly.
Our primary destination was Pir-e Sabz, also known as the Chekchek pilgrimage site, near Ardakan, but at the driver’s suggestion, we decided to visit Mazraeh-ye Kalantar village first. I had assumed that there would be a few people around the village on this Monday morning (Dey 10), so we could chat with them about the village’s history and current state. However, when we arrived around 10 AM, the village was unusually quiet, with not a single person in sight. I decided to call my dear friend, Khodadad Monavaheri, who serves as the head of the fire temple and the village chief. I had met him the previous week at a cardiologist’s office, where he had mentioned spending most of his time in the village. When I called, I learned he had traveled to Yazd for a special ceremony, and the few villagers who were present were out in the fields at the time.
Mazraeh-ye Kalantar is an ancient settlement in the Meybod region, believed by locals to date back to the Sassanid era. Originally home to Zoroastrians, several Muslim families gradually settled there over time. The village is located about 46 kilometers northwest of Yazd and around 10 kilometers east of Meybod. Interestingly, the village’s elevation at the western entrance is over 1114 meters (according to Google Earth), while at the eastern exit, it reaches approximately 1103 meters above sea level. The climate is characterized by hot and dry summers with relatively mild nights and mild winters with cold nights, occasionally accompanied by frost.
At the entrance to Mazraeh-ye Kalantar, besides the memorials for the village’s martyrs, a striking building caught my attention. In the square, atop a brick column, stood a structure resembling a large silver coin from the Yazdgerd Sassanian era (see photo four). This reminded me of the 1930s Benz car at Safaieh Hotel and the modern high-rises in Safaieh neighborhood, making me feel like we had traveled through time—from the first century of the Solar Hijri calendar to the early 14th century (old car) and then to the early 15th century (modern buildings). In just 40 kilometers, we moved from symbols of ancient history (the Sassanian coin) to modern elements.
Geologically, Mazraeh-ye Kalantar features layers from the Third Geological Formation (60 million to 3 million years ago) in the east and north, while in the west, toward Rokonabad and Meibod, newer formations and Quaternary alluvium (less than 2 million years ago) are visible. In this region of Yazd, both ancient and modern elements stand out, showcasing the area’s rich historical and geological diversity.
It is important to note that Mazraeh-ye Kalantar has a long history of protecting and preserving Pirsabz, and the family names Khademi and Kadami in the village trace their origins to this tradition. Interestingly, the people of Mazraeh-ye Kalantar, who grew up there, pronounce the letter “خ” as “ک,” so the surname “Khademi” is pronounced and registered as “Kadami.” The dedication and efforts of these villagers in maintaining Zoroastrian shrines like Piresabz are deserving of further research and recognition, both for public awareness and to honor the hard-working guardians of these sacred sites. Additionally, three eco-lodges have been developed by local residents in Mazraeh-ye Kalantar, one of which, named “Shirin and Farhad,” was established by Shahrokh Rafiei and his wife, Narges Khanom.
Visiting Pir-e-Sabz again with my old school friends felt like a new experience, despite the memories of my childhood visits. It gave me the chance to share everything I had experienced over the years. As a sociologist once said, even when revisiting a place alone, we are never truly alone—memories of past interactions with others come flooding back.
Pir-e-Sabz (or Chak Chak) is about 100 kilometers northwest of Yazd. We traveled east from Mazraeh-ye Kalantar on a dirt road until we reached a main two-way road leading to Choupanan and Ardakan. After about half an hour, we reached Pir-e-Sabz. As we passed the final bend and saw the site (Photo 7), both Mr. Izadi and I couldn’t resist shouting “Habiro Habiro, Hey Shabash!” in excitement!
Today, Pir-e-Sabz is unrecognizable compared to fifty or sixty years ago, when it was only accessible via a dirt road. The paved road, gates, stairs, and improved facilities now make the site far more accessible. It’s hard to imagine that visitors once had to carry their belongings on foot or with the help of donkeys, as cars could only go so far. There was also a separate animal path for transporting heavier loads up the hill.
Seventy or eighty years ago (in the 1920s and 1930s), preparing for a few days at the pilgrimage site was a challenging task that required teamwork. Whether traveling on foot or with pack animals, the journey would take more than 16 hours. The rough terrain, combined with the heat, dust, and fatigue, made every stop along the way to rest, light a fire, and drink smoky tea an important part of the experience. In rainy years, the fields would be lush with shrubs and grasses, providing ample food for the animals, especially when sheep were brought for sacrifice.
Walking through the bushes, the fragrance of dermeh (sagebrush) and wild thyme filled the air, offering a refreshing scent that helped ease the weariness of the journey. All of these efforts on the way to Pir-e-Sabz reminded me of the famous line by Hafez: “Do not mind if the thorn of the plain rebukes you,” symbolizing that the challenges were part of the devotion. Thankfully, the tradition of animal sacrifice at the pilgrimage site is now rarely practiced.
The journey to Pir-e-Sabz itself was an integral part of the pilgrimage, a testament to devotion. Today, with changes in time and daily life, our perspectives and emotions toward pilgrimage sites have evolved. A quick look at the history of Pir-e-Sabz reveals the transformations that have taken place over the years.
While many stories about the origins of Zoroastrian pilgrimage sites in Iran have been written, they often rely more on folklore and local tales than on academic research, with new layers added with each generation.
Pir-e-Sabz, also known as Pir-e-Sabz Chak Chak, is an ancient and historical pilgrimage site. Like many other sacred places of the Zoroastrians, its history may have been obscured by the dust of the post-Islamic era. The earliest reference to this site appears in a Safavid-era text, where it mentions the visits of Zoroastrians (referred to as Gabrans) from Yazd and surrounding villages during a particular season, celebrating and enjoying their time in the sacred space.
There are a few important points to note here. First, contrary to what some news websites and personal blogs may claim, this site is neither a fire temple nor a burial place. Instead, it is a historical site that reflects a collection of events or functions, possibly even dating back to pre-Sassanid times. For instance, it is possible that the origins of these sacred sites are connected to the worship of water and springs, which were highly valued in the dry and desert environment of Yazd, and perhaps even linked to the Mithraic faith (as suggested by the late Mobed Rostam Shahzadi).
Another significant role of these sites was as refuges for persecuted individuals, including followers of Mithraism or Zoroastrianism, seeking protection from oppressive rulers throughout history. Additionally, they may have served as sanctuaries for those fleeing from lands under pressure from the Arabs or other rulers, particularly for travelers heading eastward. These sites could have acted as safe havens during migrations.
Among the Zoroastrians today, the origin of Pir-e-Sabz is often associated with the story of a Zoroastrian princess named Hayat-Banu (or Nik-Banu in some accounts) who fled from enemies (Arabs) and sought refuge in the mountain. According to the tale, the mountain miraculously opened its mouth to swallow the princess, saving her from her pursuers. Whether or not this is the true origin, the site has remained a sacred and revered place for Zoroastrians for centuries.
Pir-e-Sabz, like other important pilgrimage sites in Yazd, holds great significance for Zoroastrians. Scholars often interpret Pir as sacred, a guide, and one who leads. The association of “Hayat-Banu” (the lost one) and the name Sabz (green) may be linked to the ancient goddess Anahita (goddess of water, plants, and fertility). Over time, this connection likely merged with the story of Khidr, the prophet associated with the waters of life and rejuvenation, which helped establish the legacy of Pir-e-Sabz.
Every year, from the 24th to the 28th of Khordad (days of Ishtar Izad and Anaram), Zoroastrians from across Iran and beyond gather to visit Pir-e-Sabz, engage in prayers, celebrations, and reunite with fellow believers.
To reach Pir-e-Sabz from Yazd’s Quran Gate to the Lower Bridge of Pir is about 100 km by car. Upon arrival, visitors encounter a guardroom, entrance gate, and surveillance cameras. At the entrance, there are signs and banners. Then, visitors walk a three-meter-wide path, facing steep steps every few meters, each about 15 cm high, leading to the stairs. I found it more challenging than when I was younger, needing breaks every ten steps. After climbing about 300 steps, we reached the top, washed our hands and faces, and finally arrived at the Pir.
The water flowing down the mountain nourishes plants, including Persiawashan, and trickles into a small pool. The sound of dripping water combined with the chanting of the Gathas was both soothing and mystical. Thankfully, the weather was pleasant, with no sign of the harsh winter cold.
It is believed that the oldest khile’s (shelters) at Pir-e-Sabz date back to the Qajar era, with one of the oldest being khile-ye-Dasturan. These khiles are designed so that the yard or area in front of one khile serves as the rooftop of the one below it, with several khiles built on top of each other.
The lower slope of Pir-e-Sabz mountain is steep, with a gradient of about 30 to 40 degrees. However, at the upper part, it turns into a fault wall, causing landslides in some areas, one of which is visible on the eastern side of the Pir. The springs and water sources here are likely a result of the faults and limestone rocks, which store hidden water that becomes abundant during snow and rain. This water gradually trickles through tiny cracks and crevices, creating a gentle stream down the wall.
In ancient times, upto 1950, the shrine’s room was merely a shallow depression, large enough for only a few people to stand. However, in that year, a group of Zoroastrians from Tehran, Yazd, and Sharifabad began digging and expanding the space to create a larger area for more visitors. Alongside this, they built a small pond to collect the water dripping from the mountain, adding to the site’s beauty, coolness, and tranquility.
After our visit to Pir-e-Sabz and taking a few farewell photos, my friends and I went to see the caretaker, a resident of Mazraeh-ye Kalantar. He graciously welcomed us into his room, where we shared tea and biscuits and exchanged stories about the past and present. Interestingly, for centuries, the people of Mazraeh-ye Kalantar have been entrusted with guarding and serving this sacred site. However, in recent years, there has been a shortage of caretakers, mainly due to the challenges of the job, low pay, and the difficulties of living in the area. Few young people are willing to take up this responsibility. Since the revolution, the Zoroastrian Association of Sharifabad has taken on the task of managing and maintaining the site, working hard to improve the Pir’s condition. Nevertheless, the issue of finding suitable caretakers remains unresolved. May the souls of those who have dedicated their time and efforts to preserving and enhancing this valuable historical place rest in peace. We also wish health and strength to those who, in these challenging economic times, continue to contribute to the upkeep of these sacred sites.
During my recent visit to Pir-e-Sabz, I couldn’t help but feel something missing despite all the security systems, the guardroom, and the surveillance cameras (which were undoubtedly necessary). Even with all the renovations, I noticed the absence of the old cypress tree that once stood proudly in front of the Pir, visible from the lower khile where we used to sleep. I also realized that the deep sense of connection I once felt as a child and young adult when visiting the Pir was no longer there. I was searching for something lost in my memories, but this place (this homeland) had changed. Can our beautiful, beloved Pire-e-Sabz alone, without a strong and stable homeland with a clear future, give me the feeling of joy and peace it once did?
