Diaspora

Watch out, here they come!

"We’re not Pink Floyd" he says. "Why do they expect us to be Pink Floyd?" Those are words from Arash Sobhani, singer/songwriter of Kiosk, the Iranian rock band that has been making quite a name for itself in the past two years. Since the days I wrote and published the conversation we had on Orkut in November 2005, the band has made a major leap in making itself known to the general public, and quite successfully, I might add. As I also run the Kiosk fan community on Orkut, the release of their second album a few months ago gave me the opportunity to have a second conversation with not only Arash, but also with Babak Khiavchi, head of Bamahang Productions (Kiosk’s record label) and Ahmad Kiarostami, the director of the now famed Eshghe Sorat video. >>>

کیوسک در زیر زمین خانه ما

من از گوشه جاز کیوسک به کیوسک وصل شدم. شهروز مولایی ، جازیست گروه کیوسک در یک پیشنهاد بی شرمانه از من خواست که برای ترانه "افسوس" هلهله بزنم. مساله هلهله خدا را شکر منتفی شدم و جایش هلهله عروسی علی کمالی (بیسیت گروه)را جایگزین کردند. ولی من دیگر درگیر شده بودم و این درگیری یعنی بعنوان مثال چند آخر هفته تمام خزیدن در خانه و سیفون نکشیدن برای جلوگیری از ایجاد صدای زاید در هنگام ضبط جاز " تو کجایی " و یا در یک روز منفی چهل و سه درجه کانادایی ، ساعت سه صبح با شهروز کیوسک تا اتاوا رفتن برای اخذ ویزا برای اولین کنسرت کیوسک در سانفرانسیکو . آلبوم عشق سرعت از نظر من یک آلبوم کاملن زیر زمینی است. همه آلبوم در زیر زمین دو خانه در تورنتو ضبط شده است. یک خانه در شمال تورنتو و خانه ما. >>>

I found Azita!

I like to write. I dream of writing wonderful, amazing fiction, but then reality happens, and it’s more amazing and powerful than fiction. Maybe “truth” as it is simply cannot be overshadowed by “truth” as I imagine it should be. Today I read this story about a young Iranian man. His name is Sina. He is 18 years old, and he was going to be hanged. When he was much younger, he killed a drug dealer, and by Iranian law, he had two options: He could wait to be executed on his 18th birthday or he could extract the forgiveness of the victim’s family and pay them the blood money. The amount was not specified in the story I read, but in Iran, each life has an exact price. Those who are rich enough or have the right connections, might consider justice an attainable ambition. >>>

Blaming others

Honestly, I kind of agree with most but not all conspiracy theories. If we look at recent Persian history, there is now documented evidence that foreigners, especially the British, did in fact meddle badly in our affairs. They overthrew governments, toppled dynasties, and had prime ministers and other high officials assassinated or replaced. In fact, I wish George W. Bush, being a strong ally of British, would have learned a few things from them when it comes to dealing with the Middle East. Incidentally, did you notice that for the first 3 years of the war in Iraq, southern Iraq which, was under the control of British troops, was the quietest area? Accident? I think not.>>>

چهره جدیدی از ما

چند سالیست که در هر گوشه و کنار وقتی پای صحبت با ایرانیان را باز میکنم و در مورد مسایل مربوط به کشورم و یا بهتر بگم هموطنانم در داخل و جامعه ایرانی در خارج از کشور بحث و گفتگو اغاز میشه همیشه در یک نقطه ای از این گفتگوها همه چیز به نسل جدید یا جوان یا بهتر بگم نسل مدرن و پیشرفته ایرانی ختم میشه. در حقیقت همه کم و کاستی نسل قبل از نسل جدید یکدفعه سپرده میشه به نسل امروز ایران حتی در خیلی از موارد معرف ایران مدرن یا ایرانیان مدرن نیز به دوش این نسل قرار میگیرد و همچنین قرار این نسل آبروی از دست رفته ما ایرانیان را در همه عرصه ها به ما برگرداند. >>>

Free and weightless

Sunday afternoon, an aviation guru friend of mine and I took a drive to Bealeton, VA, located 60 miles South West of Washington, DC to check out a 1930s air show called The Flying Circus and what a delightful circus it was! Melodies of the 20s blasting in the background, a re-enacted 20s radio personality reporting the latest and the greatest in the style of the time, old retired air force pilots relaxing under their straw hats, reminiscing about the old war years, and kids with balloons in one hand, melting ice cream in the other, fully mesmerized by the site of the planes, helped recapturing the sights and sounds of bygone days.>>>

Golden eye

I was doing some personal research on how Hollywood film fashion and the American Way of Life had influenced Persian Society particularly in the 50's and 60's. It was for an article on American Soprano Monika Jalili and her Noorsaaz Band who have revived ( and translated from Persian) some of the great music score's of Iran's Pre-Revolution classic movies. I thus came across a book precisely on one of Hollywood's quintessential icon's of the swinging sixties: Audrey Hepburn the Paramount Years by Tony Nourmand. >>>

Enduring endearment

Global communication and the urge to become one with the world has brought on drastic changes and bent a few rigid rules. Long gone are the days when we used different greeting for different people. Just three decades ago, you never said goodbye to your seniors with “Bye” or even the common term of ghorbanat – meaning may I be sacrificed for you! Instead, where I grew up, you had to say sayeh-toon-kam nasheh -- may your shadow never diminish. Or Marhamat-e-shoma-ziyad -- may your favors increase! The undertone was understood, yet such formal expressions often required additional gestures such as a bow, hand kissing, or simply standing up. I never understood why my father said taazeem arz meekonam when talking on the phone, and to this day can’t imagine the need to verbally bow to anyone. >>>

Our short order cooks

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Freedom does miracles

Farhad is not just an ordinary friend. I have known him since high school. We were also roommates at college in Iran in the early 1970’s. While a Junior at college, he was arrested by Savak (Shah’s secret police) for distributing political pamphlets, put into prison, and sent to the Army to serve a mandatory 2 years service. I lost touch with him for over 25 years. A few years ago while visiting Iran , a mutual friend invited me to a college reunion in Tehran and it was there that I saw Farhad again. He told me the story of his life and how he was able to finish his engineering degree after completing his term in the army, how he was briefly detained again after the revolution, and how he began working like a ‘normal’ person, as he puts it, in the engineering and construction field.>>>

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. >>>