Diaspora

Ghost in the house

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Know thy challenger

For geopolitical as well as geostrategic reasons any Middle East policy which does not encompass a detailed long term policy vis-à-vis the Islamic Republic is a costly exercise in futility. This hypothesis can best be validated by a simple dissection of the events in Lebanon, Israel, including the territories, Afghanistan and Iraq. In every instance the clash of the Islamic Republic’s agenda with those of the West has bogged down any meaningful progress. So the germane question that comes to mind is why such a knowledge deficit about a country as important as Iran?>>>

How I Became My Older Brother

I am sure there is a problem that can hopefully be rectified, said my sixth grade teacher. While he was patting my back gently as the sign of support, he told me you should be able to take the final exams when we correct the mistake. After nearly fifty nine years of age, I still think about the boyhood memories and cherish them with an open heart. May be the weird and wonderful stories that happened in my life in a very distant past are reawakening my mind to the childhood era. Past memories appear like crystal clear drops of water providing me with interesting subjects to write about. They are like burning clean natural gas creating clear blue flames; they are like acid reflux at the middle of night keeping you awake and thinking>>>

The Pomegranate Path

The sun was just beginning to rise over the March horizon as Ollie’s new alarm clock began to ring. He struggled to open his eyes, but with the room still dark and the bed so invitingly warm, he fought to resist the temptation to lay back down for just a few minutes more. The last time that he closed his eyes for just a few minutes more, he ended up being an hour and a half late for school. This is the reason why his mother bought him this damn new monstrosity. As he struggled to consciousness, the fleeting thought popped into his groggy head that this was no ordinary clock; no, this was Big Ben!>>>

لرزه های تن تو

می دانی وقتی به تو فکر می کنم
پیراهن روحم را از تنم بیرون می کنم
تا به تو بیاویزم من
لبان صورتی ات را به دهانم می دوزم
ودر جسم تو حل می شوم
تا تنمانمان در هم دوخته شود
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Who do you hate the most?

I always knew so well how to hate. I hated being a child and being ignored. I hated being a teen and waiting, wondering, doubting. I hated Shah, I hated Khomeini, I hated Saddam the way their ideological differences changed all of us for the worse. The way the war locked me in my room, listening to the silence, listening to the noise, missing joy or temerity, missing the light seeping through sheer curtains. I hated missing one small volume of space in time when opening my window or listening to loud music, or painting red on my bloodless lips and nails wouldn’t have been called an act of bravery>>>

Vote Malihe! Vote Hillary!

I am not a politician, but I have decided to run for a seat in the Democratic National Convention in Denver. While Iranian-Americans have been successful in academia and in business, they have not focused on politics. I seek to fill this gap and work towards giving a voice to the Iranian community in the Bay Area. As a loyal supporter of Senator Clinton, who has traveled to campaign for her in Nevada, Texas and soon in Pennsylvania, and helped to raise campaign money, I have been a dedicated volunteer in the coordinated effort to elect a Democrat to the White House>>>

This is where I call home

"I don't wanna go there! It looks too ethnic. I don't like this! It tastes too strange." I have heard these sayings before and their hundreds of variations, putting down whatever that is out of the ordinary, whatever that does not line up with the mainstream. I am bored with the mainstream. It is a light cream color over white. It is lifeless. You look and probe but you find nothing to excite your senses. Boredom weighs over your entire being and you feel deader than a dead man, being busy to be dead, while you, being bored to be alive, if you catch my wandering drift>>>