Life

Don't immigrate to the US

I immigrated to the US well before the so-called “Iranian Revolution of 1979”. I always thought I had one leg up ahead of those Iranians that “had to run away” from the tyranny of the Ayatollahs -- to anywhere, including the US. Being born in Tehran, I watched the flock of Iranians from Khorassan, Ahvaz, Esfehan, Yazd, Kerman and Shiraz to the US - you know – the ones we used to call Daahaati – if you were born and raised in Tehran. I used to shun those Daahaatis immigrating from Iran in the aftermath of post-1979, thinking “what are they doing here”? >>>

Targeting Iran

No, those are just excuses. I’m talking about the strategic reason which is as I just described it. In order to perpetuate US hegemony over the world and domination and control, any state that says no to Washington is singled out. And a state that is particularly rich in oil and natural gas has even more of an attraction to the United States.>>>

Salaaam Iran

My road to Iran began with the flames of September 11 and led me two years later to Forough's poem on light. And so it has been a road suffused in light, albeit two different kinds of light. The history of Iran has been suffused in light but it has also been veiled in darkness. I am an Eastern European Jew so I know well the ways of both darkness and light, and still I believe that Light will find the way >>>

Allied inavsion of Iran

As an Iranian, I can't wonder if we are headed towards similar events that took place when allies invaded Italy in 1943, after the country was already invaded by the Nazis? But before I get to that I want to write a paragraph about "Fools". The most dominant characteristic of fools is that they never fail to behave like fools. The fools in charge of Iran are no exception>>>

رنگ آمیزی چشمان تو

آرام از کنار خانه ی تو گذشتم بی آنکه درش را بزنم .آرام بی آنکه حتی گل های آفتابگردان سرشان را بگردانند و نیم نگاهی به رد پای من بکنند .از کنار نرده های خانه ات که می گذشتم به رنگ آمیزی در و دیوار نگاه کردم و به یاد آن روزی افتادم که برای نقاشی صدایم کرده بودی . ساعت نه صبح بود که زنگ خانه ام را زدی .تازه میز صبحانه را جمع کرده بودم ، فنجان قهوه به دست در را باز کردم .با کلاه حصیری قهوه ای رنگ و لباس کار ایستاده بودی .دوچرخه ات را به نرده خانه تکیه داده بودی باصدای نرمت گفتی هنوز آماده نشده ای ؟>>>

Iran beyond Iranians

Architecture is the art of living which is documented sometimes in the heart of a rock or it is molded as a mud brick or raised in the shape of a dome. Studying the architecture of a nation gives one insights on its peopleís personality and their characteristics. Iranian architecture is humble, pragmatic, and progressive as much of its creators the Iranians. I am not talking about the bad copies of Frank Lloyd Wright, Philip Johnson, or Le Corbusierís master pieces in northern Tehran. I am talking about the architecture of the old fabric of Yazd, Isfahan, Shiraz, Boushehr, Kerman, Mahan, Semnan, Kashan, Zanjan, Tabriz, and so on>>>

What has happened to us?

Early Saturday morning, poured myself a cup of coffee lazily threw myself on the sofa and turned the TV on, Aljazeera’s news. One suicide bomb after the other had torn people into pieces in Pakistan, Iraq and Afghanistan. When the news got to Afghanistan, I felt sick to my stomach. This bomb had taken its victims among children. 6 kids were blown up. The faces of their mothers and fathers came in front of my eyes, crying, pulling their hairs, kneeling on the ground, their faces covered with tears, blood and mud. This is not any thing out of the ordinary any more. It is part of every day life in Afghanistan and Iraq. And exactly this is the problem. We have got used to it.>>>

The nature of freedom

Recently Dr. Parvin sent me a copy of his just-published novel, Alethophobia. Before reading it, I always assumed that the ultimate sanctuary of truth is the world of academia. Apparently this is not always so. The main character in Alethophobia, Professor Pirooz, tells how the fear of truth (alethophobia) affected the lives of a nexus of students, faculty and administrators on the seemingly serene campus of a midwestern university in the 1980’s, and how it threatened to compromise academic freedom as well as his own career. I offered to interview Dr. Parvin about the book, and he agreed. Since we have not yet met in person, this conversation was carried out via phone and email

>>>

The lost requiem

There are gaps in our history, lost episodes in our collective memory caused not by forgetfulness, but by the deliberate policy of governments and politicians. There are also courageous individuals who fight to bring such material back into the public light. Khosrow Sinai is one such individual. Author of "In the Alleys of Love", “The Inner Monster”, and “Bride of Fire”, Khosrow Sinai is internationally famous for over a hundred short films, documentaries and features. One of his works, “The Lost Requiem”, has never been publicly released. Sidelined and ignored for over a quarter of a century, its content has been deemed too politically sensitive to be shown. Now, at last, its official obscurity is coming to an end>>>

What happened?

There are millions of Iranians, inside and outside of Iran, who are still trying to make sense of what happened to them and their country almost 30 years ago. Some blame it on the British, some on the Americans and some on location of Iran being the crossroads between East and West and therefore more at risk of being the victim of the whims of external forces and their interests. There are also those who have a fatalistic view of this all being the will of Allah and it all becoming very clear soon, an “Aha!” moment in the future.>>>

نهار روز " شکر گزاری"

"به به سلام، چه عجب از این طرفها آقا! خیلی خوش آمدین. مگه اینکه دیگرون دست شمارو بزور بکشند و بیارنتون اینجا، خودتون که اصلاً یادی هم از ما نمیکنین! نه باکفش بفرمائین، تورو خدا در نیارین، صفا اوردین، بفرمائید بریم تو ایوون همه اونجان، بفرمائین." و ماهم با عرض ادب، خضوع و خشوع معمول و چاق سلامتی با شیرین خانم و شوهرشان ایرج خان و چند تن دیگر از میهمانان ایشان که مثل بنده و دوستم مسعود قدری زودتر رسیده بودند دست دادیم و وارد منزل زیبای ایشان که در منطقه با صفائی بنام "پاسیفیک پلی صید" مجاور تپه های سر سبز "سانتا مونیکا" قرار گرفته است شدیم.>>>

Peace like a river...

Very soon the peace brokers are coming to meet in Annapolis. Men and women of different nationalities and faiths will sit down together by the water searching for peace in a conflict that seems to have no end. Their arguments have been in the making for more than a thousand years. Tonight I will go home to live in a peaceful sanctuary built by two people of different faiths that both cling to their one commonality - God, the One who makes all things possible. Who is full of compassion and mercy....and forgiveness. He holds no grudges to those who are truly regretful. >>>

Gift of love

It was autumn of 1998 when Rumi and I became friends. I was in my first semester of junior year in college; bubbling with excitement and preparations for the following semester which I would spend in Sevilla, Spain. During Thanksgiving break at home, I received a couple of gifts from my brother who had just returned from a business conference in Minneapolis. As the baby of the family, I was accustomed to this. What I did not expect however, was to receive a gift from his friend and co-worker Don, who had also traveled with him. I opened Don’s package to find a small book with a red cover containing 2 CD inserts. The word ‘Eshgh’ (love) was written on the cover weaved-in with its English title, “A Gift of Love Deepak and Friends Present Music Inspired by the Love Poems of Rumi”>>>

بگذار زبانها بگویند

در 22 نوامبر 1988 پس از شنیدن خبر قتل داریوش و پروانه فروهر شعر زیر را نوشتم:

ای دشنه
كاش بر آن دست
شوریده بودی!...

چرا شاعر دشنه را مورد خطاب قرار داده است؟ چرا قاتل را نه؟ و از آن مهمتر چرا مقتولین را نه؟ 

>>>

Let all tongues speak

[PERSIAN TEXT] On November 22, 1998 after hearing of the murder of two Iranian dissidents Dariush and Parvaneh Foroohar, who were stabbed to death by the secret police at their home in Tehran, I wrote this poem:

O dagger
I wish you had rebelled
Against that hand!...

Why does the poet address the dagger? Why not the murderer? And more importantly, why not the murdered?

>>>