From honey to ashes

I always thought that if I ever wrote anything against Noam Chomsky all my ancestors would rise from their graves – and I’d just have to bury them again, as Groucho Marx once said. But that was the Chomsky of old times, when he was regarded as “Einstein of Social Sciences.” That claim about him, however, today no longer seems to hold water. As Hegel said, “philosophy paints its gray on gray only when a form of life has grown old.” Chomsky did not know that his purpose was philosophy of language, not international politics, never mind the Middle Eastern politics. But we now know this thing, to paraphrase Richard Rorty, “for we latecomers can tell the kind of story of progress which those who actually making progress cannot.” >>>

Ammameh Gozaroon

Even though she never insisted stubbornly, my mother wanted me to become a theology student or, at least, to have a close relationship with the clergy. After a few casual encounters, I was able to establish a friendly relationship with one of them, a rather handsome young man, who was also Sayyed, let’s call him Mr. H. I liked him because he was moderate and reasonable when expressing his views, and embraced modernity. Mr. H invited me to his Ammameh Gozaroon ceremony. It was really interesting to me. It was like a costumed-made graduation party, a crowning a prince, Taj Gozari. The pre-rolled black turban, which was placed at the top of his head by a high-ranking ayatollah in the midst of the jubilation and the chanting of Slavat by the audience, contrasted his bright-skin face so fittingly>>>

Arvand

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Treading softly

October 7th 2008 marks the 80th anniversary of the birth of one of Iran’s most celebrated modern poets, Sohrab Sepehri. On that day, hundreds of people will make their way to the lonely, remote mosque of Mashhad Ardehal, (on the desert road between Kashan and Dilijan), to pay their respects, recite poetry and lay flowers on the grave of this much-loved poet. Awaiting them will be no grand memorial tomb such as that of Hafez or Sa’adi: no pavilion with fragrant gardens, no trees to adorn and give shade. All they will see is a marble flagstone in the courtyard of the mosque (outside the women’s entrance), sometimes trodden below the feet of visitors on their way to prayer. The inscription on the stone reads:>>>

Kodoom.com Feeds your Needs!

Ever since the dot com boom and bust, I don't get too excited about new websites anymore, especially Iranian sites. Iranian sites for the most part either suck, or they are template sites and the greedy developers seem to want to create the most busiest and complicated sites with the teeniest tiniest text that you can't read, almost as if they wanted to make it as hard to use as possible. God forbid they have those awful ads on them too. Farsi language sites are often bad, as the penchant for Iranians to blog like crazy, at times becomes too much to bear. Certainly painful on the eyes. I think the number of Iranians blogging now, is more than the actual number of Iranians reading those blogs>>>

یرما: آبرونامه ی زنان جهان

دیشب نمایش یرما اثر فدریکو گارسیا لورکا را دیدم. پیش از رفتن به نمایش دلم می خواست چند کلمه در موردش بنویسم ولی کار و گرفتاری نگذاشت و برای همین موکولش کردم به نوشتن مطلبی به بهانه اجرای یرما. از اجراهایی که در آن یرما از صبح تا شب با لباس خواب جلوی چشمان خوان می چرخد تا او را به رختخواب بکشاند و باز هم تلاشی بکنند تا شاید بچه دار شدند خوشم نمی آید. از ویکتوری که هی مردانگی مذکر خود را به رخ تماشاچی می کشد خوشم نمی آید. از خوان قلدری که زنش را له و لورده می کند خوشم نمی آید. نکته ی شخصیت های لورکا در دوگانگی وجودی شان است. یرما در عین عفیف بودن پر است از امیال سرکوب شده. خوان در عین قلدری و سختی، شکننده هم هست. ویکتور دخترکش نیست، بلکه جفت مناسبی است برای یرما و آن دو خودشان این را نمی دانند بلکه ما هستیم که این را می دانیم و در خلال نمایش به آن پی می بریم.>>>

در جستجوی غرب زدگان

در دوران معاصر کمتر اتفاق افتاده که اصطلاحی از جانب نخبگان و متفکران ايرانی وضع شود، و يا مورد استفاده قرار گيرد، که در بين اهل قلم و انديشهء جهان هم کاربرد پيدا کند. واژه ای خاص و در حال حاضر يکی شده با انديشه های مسلط بر حاکميت اسلامی ايران، اصطلاح «غربزدگی» است.در واقع، غربزدگی، به معنی علاقمندی و گرايش به «برخی» از مظاهر تمدن غرب، چماقی است که بخصوص بر سر نسل جوان ايران فرود می آيد و خيابان ها و بازار های کشورمان را به صحنهء برخورد نيروهای انتظامی با جوانانی تبديل کرده است که ظاهرشان از «مصاديق غربزدگی» محسوب می شود. اما فهرست اين مصاديق را فقط گردانندگان رژيم اسلامی می توانند بصورتی کاملاً دلبخواه تهيه کنند. حال آنکه اگر تمايل به استفاده از مظاهر تمدن غربی نشان غربزدگی باشد، چه کسی را می توان در حکومت اسلامی ايران يافت که غربزده نباشد؟>>>

The good monarch

In a recent article, titled “UN Treasure Honors Persian Despot,” Spiegel Magazine criticizes the United Nations for recognizing an ancient artifact believed by many to be the world’s first declaration of human rights. The “Persian Despot” of course is Cyrus The Great, the author of the doctrine inscribed on the outer surface of a clay cylinder housed at the British Museum in London where it’s simply known as the Cyrus Cylinder. When this cylinder was discovered in 1879, amid the ruins of Babylon, it made huge headlines in the Christian West. It was the first time a biblical story had been confirmed through archaeology. But the euphoria quickly wore off. The democratic age had no room for a celebrated monarch>>>

Irrational eyes

The picture that Jose Saramago presents of the blind is more repulsive than any Eugenicist dares to draw. The reader asks himself if this writer before writing his book had ever met a blind person or after publishing his story, has he ever received feedback from a blind reader? It is ironic that Mr. Saramago intends to write a book in order to criticize a kind of ideological/spiritual bias by which human society is divided into "us" and "the others", but the result is Blindness in which the author has slipped into one of the worst kinds of bigotry>>>

نامحرم با تاریخ

ما ایرانی‌ها دو خصیصۀ متنافر داریم: یکی اینکه وقتی به ما بگویند که بالای چشممان ابروست بی‌تامل می‌رنجیم و دیگر اینکه همواره این احساس را داریم که خدنگی چشممان را می‌خلد غافل از اینکه این خدنگ از ابروی خودمان است. کم کم دارند این دو خصیصۀ ظاهرا همزاد، در عرصۀ تاریخ (امروز همراه جامعه‌شناسی) به خطری جدی تبدیل می‌شوند: انتقاد تنها از دشمن مجاز است. در نتیجه «عیب‌بینی» بی‌لحظه‌ای درنگ «عیب‌جویی» تلقی می‌شود و بینندۀ عیب در خط مقدم نبرد جای می‌گیرد. پس لازم است که لشکری برای رویارویی با دشمن خط مقدم نبرد انگیخته شود. از سوی دیگر، چون عادت ما بر این است که هر کس در برداشت‌های سیاسی و اجتماعی و تاریخی راه خود را برود و جناحی برای خود راه بیاندازد، تکان بخوری، با دلتای هزارشاخه‌ای رو‌به‌رو می‌شوی، که در مصب هم آرام نمی‌گیرد. از این است که شمشیرهای پنهان و از روبستۀ ما از شدت چکاچک همیشه کند هستند.>>>

غریبه ای با ما آشنا

در کنار دریای خزر نشسته بودیم با چند تن از دوستان ،یک جائی را پیدا کرده بودیم که دور از دست پاسدارهای نسل خمینی بود. کنار ساحل دراز کشیده بودیم و به صدای شیرین دریا گوش میدادیم که ناگهان سایه شخصی را در کنار مان احساس کردیم ،من با واهمه برگشتم ببینم کیه که یکهو پیداش شد.توی دلم میگفتم نگاه کن جلادای رژیم اسلامی همه جا کمین کردن که ما را بگیرن و بندازن توی زندان. اما وقتی برگشتم ،متوجه شدم که طرف پاسدار نیست،خیلی خوشحال شدم و یک نفس راحتی کشیدم. اما خوشحالی من بیشتر به این خاطر بود که این شخص لباسی بر تن داشت قرمز با موهای بلند و ریشه های بلند که خیلی قشنگ فر داشت و فر خیلی زیبائی هم داشت.یک پارچه قرمزی هم دور سرش بسته بود .کاملا شبیه سربازهای ایران باستان >>>

The last brave intellectual

Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s life is a narrative of sexual repression and gradual emancipation. She became who she is today (Time magazine listed her as one of the 100 most influential people in the world) by redescribing Islam and reacting against radical Muslims - real live people whom she had met in the flesh, not in the book. “I left the world of faith, of genital cutting and marriage for the world of reason and sexual emancipation. After making this voyage I know that one of these two worlds is simply better than the other. Not for its gaudy gadgetry, but for its fundamental values”, Ayaan Hirsi Ali wrote in her autobiography "Infidel">>>

The Reed flute

It was a summer day year 2000(I think it was 2000). I was in New York City to visit some relatives and enjoyed the stay. A cousin of mine who was interested in Sufism told me about a Rumi conference that was going to be held in the Columbia University. I have had read little about Rumi and remembered some famous lines of his poetry and his love for Shams Tabrizi, but I really did not know so much about him. Also, the only thing about sufism I knew was the paintings of old dervishes with their axe. Back at my parental home we used to have a very elegant copy of the Omar Khayyams Rubaiyat. I enjoyed reading its poems so much that I made my high school special assignment about Khayyam>>>

Fifty Ways To Kill Your Lover

In the beginning was the word, says the Book, but which word and did a sentence follow, and was it funny or all too serious, like Him? You see, this is the question that sort of attacked me one day out of nowhere and, yet, He kept evading my question, so after a while, when I was starting to think vacation and how I should busy myself, being the most workaholic soul in the entire universe, I said to myself: I can be an author! He laughed at me of course and mocked me and eventually we made the bet -- that I would prove my literary skills by getting published by a respectable publisher and, searching the directory, we settled on you, that is why I am here>>>