In the Dorvan, alongside the rivers, there were some farms; because most of the residents were livestock owners, the movement of the herds caused damage to the farms; the herds damaged the crops, and cattle and sheep ate the trees. Therefore, the elders of the village and my father gathered to find a solution to this problem; it was decided that when the herds come down from the hills or in the spring when they go to the pastures, they should not pass through the farms so that the landowners would not object; the herds had to pass through the village. They wrote this agreement, sealed it, and entrusted my father with its implementation; they also gave him an order to take care of this matter.
That autumn, when the herds were returning, my father would go to the farms. One day, during one of these trips, he saw a herd coming down from the hills, heading towards the farms by the river; my father was ahead of them, and he saw that it was Kedkhoda’s herd; he became upset and angry, and he scolded the shepherd and Kedkhoda’s son, and they ran away; my father had a gun as well; they went to the village, and the herd was left unattended; my father had to gather the herd and deliver it to its owner. Because of this incident, Kedkhoda and his relatives became upset and angry, saying, “Our shepherd has been beaten, we must punish him tomorrow.”
The next morning, they gathered their supporters to confront my father; I was five years old at that time. My father, who was informed about the situation, locked us in the house and told us not to come out; it was me, my mother, my paternal grandmother, and the children. My father loaded his gun, had a double-barreled shotgun, fastened it on his back, and then mounted the rifle on it, facing towards the people; we were at an elevation. When they arrived and saw that my father had pointed his gun at them, Kedkhoda realized that my father might fire the gun, he thought rationally, held back his companions, and they turned back. My father called out, “Stop!” They, who were standing, said, “Didn’t you write an agreement that I should go to guard the farms? Why did you trespass? After this, put your seals on your donkeys back!” Then he tore up the agreement, and they went back to their work, and the incident ended; when my father came inside, he said, “This village is not a place for us anymore.”
Of course, besides this incident, my father had other disagreements with the villagers; his high-minded opinions led to conflicts; for example, he would say, “Don’t cut down these wild barberries and tamarisk bushes, they are capital,” but they wouldn’t listen and cut down the trees for firewood. Incidents like these led to our migration from Dorvan. We migrated to Karaj in 1308; in 1315, we returned to the village, and after 1325, we went back to Karaj.