Archive - 2011 - Article

My Father's Play

My father wrote a play. Before then, I hadn't known that it was possible to be sad about Americans. I hadn't known that it was all right to be sad about Americans, rather. I certainly hadn't known that it was beautiful, although I was beginning to see that sadness and beauty were closely related. In the play, there are men and women divorcing and re-marrying, with a regularity that to us was American>>>

طلسم شده

من برهنه به دنیا آمدم
لیک پوشیده از دنیا خواهم رفت
حرف هایت را بپوشان
بدنت را بپوشان >>>

گنبد واژگون و دوار

در سینه تنگ و خسته من
یک نکته نه! بلکه صد هزاران

رازیست که تاب گفتنم نیست
دردی است مرا که نیست درمان
>>>

Peace is War

Reflecting on the July 4th weekend, I'm struck by how we traditionally use the holiday to commemorate our war heroes. While I have tremendous respect for those who serve in the military, 21st century citizenship needs to reframe the meaning of nationalism and civic pride as a commemoration of Peace, not War. In the ecology of the new millennium, War is, more than ever, a zero-sum game for all involved. We are beginning to understand that there are no longer any winners in War. Instead, we must wage Peace>>>

سکوت= سهیم در جنایت

حال و روز بسیاری از زندانیان نگران کننده و وخیم است. انور خضری و کامران شيخه دو زندانی کرد در اعتصاب غذای طولانی به سر می‌برند و حال ايوب قنبر پوريان و حسین رونقی ملکی وخیم گزارش شده است. به اضافه نمونه‌های بسیار دیگری که در این مختصر نمی‌گنجد. و دردناک‌تر از همه این‌ها، خبر قتل عام‌های مخفی در زندان‌های ایران است که از مدت‌ها پیش شروع شده و هم‌چنان ادامه دارد>>>

Capturing Confinement

Internet: the megaphone of the people brought me the artwork of Tabriz-based photographer, Ghazale Ghazanfari. I first stumbled upon the dark textures and subtle emotions of her images on Iranian.com months ago, and the impression left was just as difficult to shake as tracking her down for an interview. The 24-years-old artist is completing her MA in Industrial Design in Tabriz: a kind and modest city in the far northwest corner of Iran near the borders of Turkey, Armenia and Azerbaijan. Her conceptual photos play on morbid backdrops of loneliness, abandonment, self-reflection >>>

If I shall rise...

Hamid Mosaddegh’s poem points to the fact that change may begin with one, but it will only lasts when a group joins hands. And I am grateful for a life-changing experience that came about through the help of a community. What began as a gift to my best friend, and later became a legacy to my three first generation children, is now the quest of a people. I am referring to my debut novel, Sky of Red Poppies, and to its recent nomination for the next "One Book, One San Diego">>>

Sonnet Ghazal

Hafez, the baker, could see what I mean;
If she were a spice, she’d be cinnamon.   
It’s both terrifying and exciting,
The idea that she’d see other men >>>

همین تلنگرها کافی نیست؟!

یکی از خدمات شایان رضا شاه فقید در دوران نسل کشی از یهودیان، تهیه و پخش چند ده هزار پاسپورت ایرانی برای یهودیان ایران و بسیاری یهودیان دیگر از ملیتهای دیگر بود که توانستند از اتاقهای گاز نازیها جان به در ببرند. جالب این که ایران تنها کشوری بود که بعدها پس از تشکیل دولت اسرائیل برای این انسان دوستی اش [برعکس دیگر کشورها] از اسرائیل مطالبه ی غرامت نکرد. اما سالها بعد...>>>

Beauty With Wisdom

In Isfahan, Iran, blue against a blue sky, is the most beautiful building I have ever seen. Entering the Lotfollah Mosque, I made my way to a corner and sat on the floor beneath the soaring dome to take it all in. Then I lay down and gazed up. A melody of light played through the latticed arches. At the dome's center was an explosion of yellow, a sunburst from which a bewildering forest of tendrils and blossoms laced their way over the dome's surface. I began to see shapes within shapes, and to feel that I was being showered not only with beauty but with wisdom>>>

Good Garbage

I really miss many things about the hometown I left behind nearly 38 years ago when I decided to travel to America to pursue graduate education. One of them is lettuce. Not the head lettuce popular here in the United States, but the special kind of lettuce that grows only in the warm and arid areas of my home town, Qum, Iran. This lettuce, known as Minaei lettuce, grows tall, especially if not cut and harvested on time, and has long, dark, lush, green leaves and soggy, slender, purplish ribs>>>

ایوان مخوف

آلفونس علی در کتابش که در بین طرفداران به کتاب "سرخابی" معروف شد، روز 11 فوریه سال 2010، ساعت 12 و 11 دقیقه به وقت واشنگتن را لحظه سقوط سرمایه داری جهانی به سرکردگی آمریکا عنوان کرده بود که چنین اتفاقی نیفتاد و در آن روز سرمایه داران آمریکایی، دوش گرفته، صبحانه خوردند، پیراهنی سفید پوشیده و کراواتی آبی زدند و...>>>

Over the City of Istanbul

Three brothers and four sisters
Sat at the four corners of a vast table
Under a half-cloudy sky
And ordered swordfish and Alexander kebabs
With yoghurt drinks and fruit sherbet >>>

Poet Made in Space

The neat part of the International Space Development Conference is meeting a lot of very smart people who share a passion for space exploration. Neda Ansari is in that third category. She is a poet. I expressed a wish to read some more of her poetry, as I only glimpsed a bit in one of the thousands of emails that zipped through my inbox, and she agreed. More than agreed, she sent a hand-bound, self-published compilation of poetry, translations, and other writings>>>

On the Brink

Although factional rivalries have long plagued Iranian politics, the current conflict is threatening the stability of the Islamic Republic at a critical juncture. With mounting challenges both at home and abroad, the government can ill afford to let political infighting spiral further out of control. However, insofar as the conflict represents a clash between two fundamentally conflicting outlooks on Iran’s future, it is unlikely that the crisis will be resolved any time soon>>>