Arts and Literature

The Caspian

I am traveling north
Leaving Tehran in a car
With my family
On a snaking road
I am going up and through
The craggy mountains
The air is cool and refreshing >>>

Cover girl

I stopped wearing a hejab at twelve, and at thirteen my clothing style gradually grew shorter. I thought that the entire point of hejab was to blend a woman with her surroundings, and if my surroundings exercised their right to bear skin, shouldnŒt my hejab follow in pursuit? For a while it worked, but the longer time passed since I wore my hejab, the more and more I felt like a sore thumb. I felt displaced, homeless, and when I sought safety, I would crawl onto my bed and drape my blanket over my entire head and body. Even today, when I remember the empty act of praying, I don't remember the foreign words or the unexplained movements so much as I remember the light, see-through cloak that enveloped me, embraced me, and if I had any faith in God during my five daily prayers, it was in the feeling that as long as I was engulfed by his hejab, I was safe. >>>

Xerxes

Interestingly Hollywood may well discover a new and interesting version of the legendary tale of Xerxes and Esther thanks to a script written by a beautiful American actor/writer of Iraqi heritage: Ren A. Hakim. All the more interesting is that Hakim's script is titled Xerxes and tries to take a look at this story from the perspective of the King whose reign saw the expansion of the Persian Empire to its pinnacle and during which the Palace of Persepolis was to be completed as an architectural Imperial legacy for future generations before its fatal destruction and burning centuries later by Alexander the Great. >>>

Somebody is calling my name

I don’t know the meaning of my name. But I know one thing: my name is entirely what I am. Already, I’ve forgotten the name that’s given to me. Maybe if I think harder, I’ll remember it. Yet I feel no urge to look for it: it was like all those things that must have been lost, those that must have been gone and set free in formlessness. I shaped my new name on my own, though. First, it was simply an insignificant speck of pollen among thousands of other specks, drifting around in the air, searching for the pistil. I waved at that very spec and it floated toward me. “Just don’t forget to water me everyday,” it whispered.>>>

The first mammal

In moments of statistical introspection, I wonder if LA Dodgers fans are generally Pahlavi supporters. The occasional Shah picture posted on huge Westwood billboards, and the handful of TV stations time capsuling pre-revolution Tehran are tempting bits of data. San Francisco Giants fans, on the other hand, are likely pro-Mossadegh, though I lack the evidence of billboards. Needless to say, Giants rule and Dodgers suck, but it is nice occasionally to brawl with facts and reason. Two meticulously researched books by Oxford scholar Homa Katouzian hit the ball right out of the ballpark for the Giants.>>>

ضد ولایت فقیه

راهی كه در این كتاب برای براندازی نظام اسلامی عرضه شده ساده و روشن است. اول به داو مبارزه پرداخته شده كه پایهٌ نظریه پردازی است، بعد به استراتژی كه تابع هدف است و در نهایت به سازماندهی كه تابع استراتژی است. این روش در جهت منطق تاریخ معاصر ایران كه نبرد بر سر تعیین نظام سیاسی است و در جهت خواست یك قرنهٌ مردم ایران كه دستیابی به دمكراسی است حركت میكند. نظام حكومتی امروز ایران با سلب حاكمیت از مردم، با تعریف خود به عنوان ضدلیبرال و مذهبی واروی خود را هم كه نظامی دمكراتیك و لیبرال و لائیك است، تعریف كرده است >>>

Disowned

(Mr. Amiri is getting the mail on a Saturday morning. He sees a letter from Farhad's school addressed to his parents. He opens the letter. It reads:  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Amiri: Congratulations! Your son, Farhad has been selected to receive a scholarship for a summer writing program at the prestigious Foster Academy for the Arts.)
Mrs. Amiri: Oh, that is wonderful!
Mr. Amiri: Pah! It is wonderful to you, not to me. My son has no interest in such things, he will be an engineer, and then the world's greatest surgeon. He will invent new instruments, he will win the Nobel Prize, he will have a family with a good Persian wife and children, he will be a great soccer player on the over 40 league, he will -- where is he -- (yelling) FARHAD! Come down right now! (Enter Farhad) >>>

جمهوری خاوران

مسلمانی یا نه؟
مثل همیشه چشم بند به چشم داشتم ولی ضربه ی باتون برایم آشنا بود
سرم را گرفتم و با چشمان بسته گویی جن دیده باشم گفتم: بسم الله. بسم الله. بسم الله
شصت و هفت هزار بار گفتم: بسم الله
آنقدر گفتم: بسم الله تا رهایم کردند
>>>

Tariaak raa be baazdamat paz

I will love once again

Courage is not the absence of fear.

Courage is when you shake in your underwear and still face the melody.

Courage is being numb of pain and still not surrender.

Courage is to see the last light of your aura being drained and consumed by the invisible and faceless pain and still stand there and smile.

Courage is to never let them make you a victim. >>>

Raging against the gods

In the thirteenth century A.D. there was Rumi and Shams. In 2700 B.C. there was King Gilgamesh and Enkidu. The heroes, Rumi and Gilgamesh, were civilized masters of their domain, enjoying a small greatness in their time. Shams and Enkidu were untutored outsiders who burst in from the wild to become the heroes' beloved companions. The same extraordinary spiritual upheaval created by the unlikely friendships launched both Rumi and Gilgamesh out of their time and into legend. George Charbak's play, The Epic of Gilgamesh with a long prologue, thankfully does not dwell on the Enkidu-Shams comparison. In fact Enkidu's god protector is simply referred to as the sun god, sidestepping the god's real name Shamash, the root for the Arabic word Shams >>>

Cloudy, with a chance of war

As an American-born Iranian, who has lived and studied in Iran, Ebtekar’s war images are influenced by the Iran-Iraq war. “My earlier works borrow a lot from the Iran-Iraq war. If you look closely at my earlier works you will see jet-planes and tanks that are direct references to the ones used in the Iran-Iraq War.” But war does not stop there for the globe, nor for Ebtekar. He explains: “When 9/11 happened I stopped working on this manner and felt as though I couldn't continue in that political climate. However when current war was declared shortly after, I remember saying to myself I have to continue working, it’s actually more important to do it now that any other time. So I continued, and now the references are not solely from the Iran-Iraq war but from a larger body of sources and material that are coherent with contemporary geopolitical crises we are in.”>>>

The right mix

The story itself is a marathon runner, for the most part it’s slow, preserving energy for later, every now and again it bursts out to gain speed and then it slows down and then towards the end, it goes full out but still for the most part, the runner is slow. If you didn’t get that metaphor, then here’s the translation: Basically, the story is slow, with outburst of action every now and again and then a climatic ending. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because Rowling wanted to stretch it out because she didn’t want it to end, or maybe it was for extra suspense but it simply went on for way too long. There were points in the middle and a 1/3 of the way in where I really just wanted to put the book down as it was boring me to sleep. There were moments where the action spiked up and those were quite invigorating at the time in contrast to the dull block of text.>>>

LET ME...know you azizam

Conquering Kamran was my all consuming desire. He asked whether I had a YAHOO id and soon we were sending IMs for eight hours or more at a time. We discussed life and the difficulties we had been through in life in general but also in our love lives. He also spoke about his upcoming book and how I would love the stories. It felt wonderful for a man to understand what I was talking about and it was easy to connect with him because we had both felt intense thoughts and emotions throughout our lives. This went on for so many hours and soon afterward he called me simply to hear my voice. He said, “I need to hear that sexy voice.” I responded, “How could you possibly know my voice was sexy.” He said, “Because I get so excited every time you IM me.” I was shocked and turned on.

 

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A piece of woman's clothing

... suddenly among the remaining things
A piece of a woman's clothing touches my hand
It is pale pink
Its front is made of net
And one delicate band
Connects the front to the back
I rub my fingers on this fig leaf
To extract all of its sweet juice >>>

یک تکه رخت زنانه

و ... ناگهان در میان تکه های به جا مانده
دستم به تکه رخت زنانه ای می خورد
که رنگی صورتی دارد
پته ی رویی اش توری است
و بندی نازک آن را
به پته ی پشتی پیوند می دهد
انگشت هایم را به نرمی روی این برگ انجیر می سایم
و می خواهم تمام شیره ی شیرین آن را بیرون بکشم
(English) >>>

Ode to mid-summer

Waking to the sound of cicadas
Wrapped in the sweaty tulle of mid-summer
Every movement lingers: becomes sensual
The mind in a haze refuses to think: goes on strike >>>