Archive - 2007 - Article

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.>>>

Empty voyage

Ms. Rice tells us that George W. Bush has now decided to enter the diplomatic Texas Holdem poker sweepstakes, and that on his first hand, he's prepared to go "all in." She is assuring us that this time around Bush is playing for keepsies, with real peace chips; so that there won't be any question he's going all out to achieve reconciliation for Palestine. And he wants every Arab leaguer to commit, fully cooperate in this Annapolis effort, promising that there will be an open-ended agenda. Open-ended agenda, yeah sure; but meantime Hamas, and any other "unsavory" representation need not show up at Annapolis, for the midshipmen may tag them as "enemy combatants" and Shanghai them on a one-way trip to Guantanamo.>>>

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. >>>

Mothers and their sons: Secret whispers

Horse-drawn carriage
Skids the stone,
Cemetery's birds sing a
Redeeming but drunken atone.

White-haired woman
Bends on her hump,

From beneath the son says,

"I am safe and sound." >>>

When politicians love journalists

I beg to say that the main premise on which Sadeq Saba's new analysis is built upon is just false. In his piece about the harsh criticism against Ahmadinejad, published in a newspaper in iran called Jomhoori-e Eslami, he argues that support for Ahmadinejad is diminishing among within the senior leadership of Iran. That's becoming an increasingly popular theme these days and the way I read it is that the U.S./UK official line against Iran is slightly shifting towards exploiting the remaining limited potentials of Rafsanjanists in breaking the political unity and common will behind the nuclear programme and particularly the decision not to give up on the enrichment. >>>

جای خالی احزاب غير ايدئولوژيک

به نظر من، بن بست کنونی اپوزيسيون حکومت ايدئولوژيک اسلامی، دقيقاً نتيجهء عدم دوری اپوزيسيون از «ايدئولوژی کاری» و آلوده شدن به «ايدئولوژی زدگی» است ـ وضعيتی که نمی تواند آلترناتيوی امروزی و دموکراتيک را در برابر حکومت اسلامی بنشاند. >>>

Lost

You walk beside my life
Looking ahead
Lost in what has to be
What can’t be
And I look at a last love
Looking in despair
Turning away from us
And disappearing in the midnight.
>>>

Dried Rose Petal

The girl whose journal was full of poems and rose petals
Turned out to be a cruel hunter
Chasing young prey
To taste still shaking young flesh
On her cherry lips
With her heart hidden in her grandma’s chest
Mask on her face
Sucking nectar like a butterfly >>>

Where is that brave?

Where is that brave, who has seen your face, daring to speak?
Where is beloved, who has longed for you, and didn't freak?
Who has the patience, to smell your scent, from far meadows,
The source of that scent, on head and on feet, began not to seek?
Who on the globe, has seen a picture, behind some curtains,
Kept claiming arts, before your image, didn't go bleak? >>>

از نيمه راه گمشدگی

داريوش فروهر، در زمان انقلاب، دفترش پاتوق من روزنامه نگار پر شر و شور آن زمان بود؛ و صرفنظر از افق های سياسی متفاوت، صميميت پر صلابتی در او بی اختيار افق هامان را برای لحظاتی که با هم بوديم در هم يکی می کرد. و مجيد شريف، حضورش در اين غربت مضاعف، برايم غنيمتی بود که تنها پس از آن که از دستش دادم معنايش را شناختم. جای خالی مجيد را ديگر هيچکس نتوانست در من پر کند. و او خيلی از اين نوشته ام خوشش می آمد. و خيلی در باره ی اين نوشته با هم حرف زده بوديم و بحت کرده بوديم و گفته بوديم و خنديده بوديم و در دل گريسته بوديم اما.>>>

Roses for Rabia

her last love poem she lettered
in her blood, her own pool of warm
blood dripping dipping in it
her fingers made of moonlight

as she lay dying on the tainted
tiles of a public bath
bent against the wall

bright Rabia Balkhi
Persian poet painter Princess

>>>

From prison

This is prison; the women’s ward of Evin prison. This is not my first time here; not the first time I’ve come to Evin. The first time, I came here as a journalist. Alongside the warden, I walked from cell to cell to listen to the stories of women who were here on charges of addiction, prostitution and murder. I heard only a few words from each woman, only what the presence of the warden allowed. That day all the inmates spoke highly of prison conditions in front of the officials and said they had no problems but as I was leaving they slipped a crumpled piece of paper in my pocket that read: "Help us! No one thinks about us here.”>>>

The evil side of extremism

We should condemn extremism of all kind, right? Wrong. The purpose of this writing is to demonstrate that, extremism like a coin has two sides-good and evil. Then, why do most of us fail to observe that during the long history of our world, the extremists have been behind all important events and movements such as revolutions, dynasty replacements and other changes, from drastic to subtle? We also need to remind ourselves that only one or a handful of leaders are the engines of the movements and they determine the direction of the change-good or evil.>>>

Embrace Me As You Did "Shams"

O' Mollana, Begging Upon Your Feet ..
Mesmerized By The Presence of Your Spirit ..

Bereft of All Evil, Embracing You In Love ..
With The Spirit Rising, Torrents Rush For Comapny ..

The Blessing of Your "Breath", Meandering My Existence ..
The "Casualness" of Your Stare, Awash in Tranquility .. >>>

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”>>>