Some time after our business began to flourish, Hassan and I went our separate ways; we got another shop next to the iron bridge in Chalus, which still exists. Hassan took over the new shop, and I kept the original one.
Hassan stayed in Chalus and later moved his wife and children there as well; his daughter married an Esfahani who also owned a shop; his son went on to study and became the head of forestry in that area.
In the summer, I turned the shop into a juice stand. Back then, there was no ice; I would bring snow from Kandovan and store it in a pit I had dug behind the shop; I covered it and even slept there at night; it was cool. Towards the end of the summer, my father came and said, “You must come to Karaj!” He had visited before; I told him, “This place is growing, I am progressing here, I have my own income and I help you too”; he said, “Even if you make a brick of gold a day, I won’t be satisfied. I am alone, I have problems, and I have no one to help me. Whatever you want to do, you must come to Karaj.” Eventually, he convinced me; we rented a truck, loaded my belongings, and went to Karaj; I settled there.
This event changed the course of my life; I entered the political arena. At that time, the political struggle for the nationalization of the oil industry was underway, and I gradually became involved in this path until it became my full-time occupation; I could no longer attend to my business, to the extent that I took a job with a daily wage of three tomans, so I could devote more time to political activities.