Dear Mr. Mortazavi,
He hates being called anything else, just Baba. You call him papa, daddy, pedar…he won’t answer, just Baba. He first became a Baba on March 5th at 1:00 am, some twenty five years ago. He has been a great Baba ever since. He has stood by me and with me in sickness and health, like a lover should. I have always been very weak. I used to get sick a lot. Every month I used to come down with a fever. He used to sit by my bed at night. He then massaged my little back with his big hand. What a sense of relief it was. A sense of security I never had in life again.
I know a daddy, my dear Mr. Mortazavi. I don’t know what he likes to be called. He has been forced to exile because of you, and your likes. His little daughter is sick. She has a fever. He is sick. He has a fever, because he cannot be beside her by her bed at nights to comfort her and secure her life.
You my dear Mr. Mortazavi, you are a horrendous criminal. You separated the little girl, from the loving embrace of her daddy. May that god of yours forgive what you have done to all those little girls!
Yours
Nazli