Arts and Literature

پینوکیو در نیویورک

پیش بینی می کنم احمدی نژاد پس از بازگشت به وطن نیازمند جراحی دماغ بشود، بعید می ‏دانم یک رئیس جمهور در طول تاریخ در عرض یک روز این همه دروغ گفته باشد. محمود ‏احمدی نژاد در مصاحبه با چند رسانه مهم گروهی آمریکا شرکت کرد و با توجه به اینکه ‏مطمئن بود کسی دوروبرش نیست، هر چه دلش می خواست گفت... احمدی نژاد در مصاحبه هایش اعلام کرد در ایران ‏زندانی سیاسی وجود ندارد، استادان دانشگاه تحت فشار نیستند، در ایران آزادی مطلق وجود ‏دارد، 98 درصد مردم از دولت حمایت می کنند، قانون مخالف همجنسگرایی هفتاد سال قبل ‏تصویب شده، در ایران کسی فقیر نیست ومن نماینده دانشگاهیان بودم و در انتخابات پیروز ‏شدم. حالا چکار کنیم؟ به نظر شما اگر کسی تصمیم بگیرد رسما دروغ بگوید چه راهی برای ‏نشان دادن دروغ هایش وجود دارد؟ و اگر ثابت شد دروغ می گوید با او چه می شود کرد؟ ‏ >>>

Kish

With the borders closed, many turned their gaze inward and began exploring parts of Iran they had not seen in years. Despite the ongoing war, there was a boom in the tourism industry; this time it catered not to foreigners but to Iranians themselves. There was plenty to see that was out of range of artillery shells and mortars, so we took every chance possible to visit parts of Iran that neither of us had been to previously. One of our first trips was to the island of Kish, a windswept strip of coral in the Persian Gulf. Prior to the revolution, the Shah had spent millions converting the barren piece of land into a world-class resort that catered to rich Iranians and Arab sheikhs>>>

سه کلوز آپ از "شکیبا چون خسرو!"

خسروی خسروان، من و تو، با کمی پس و پیش، جز این که از یک دانشکده عبور کرده باشیم هیچ پیوندی نداریم. پس دانشکده بود و تئاتر بود و دانشکده هنرهای زیبا بود و صادق هدایت روزی در آنجا کار کرده بود و شما بعدها به دانشکده پای گذاشته بودید و دپارتمان تئاتر بود و رئیس دپارتمان در آن سالها بهرام بیضایی بود... خاطره اولم برمی گردد به دیداری در پیش و یا در آنتراکت و یا در پایان اجرایی از برشت در یک حیاط یک مدرسه. تابستان پنجاه و هفت بود. من تازه از اولین سفرم به اروپا برگشته بودم و موهایم را کوتاه کرده بودم و پیراهن مردانه و آبی بلند پدرم را با شلوار جین پوشیده بودم. آن شب در حیاط آن مدرسه، چندتایی از بچه های دانشکده هم بودند و تانیا (همسر سابق ات) هم بود و تو هم بودی. با هم سلام و علیک کردیم و تو از من تشکر کردی و من هاج و واج ماندم که چرا؟ >>>

Partner

Ali met Bita when they were both at university in Tehran. It was the autumn of nineteen ninety-eight. They were arguing politics at a friend’s rooftop party, one exchange led to another and they left with each other’s phone numbers. They were married by the following spring. Ali’s father had agreed to let them stay in an apartment he owned, for six months. It was furnished but the bed was a bit creaky so they got a futon. Months later, after Ali’s arrest, Bita found herself sleeping on it alone, with only a pillow to hug. That first summer, Ali, along with Sam, the boy at whose dinner party they had met, had helped to organise a number of sit-ins in the student protests of June nineteen ninety-nine. The men who whipped them assured them they would never be able to sit again>>>

Shoes

What pair of shoes should I choose
For the upcoming dandy dance?
Are my feet better off in blue
Bright shoes or black buckle shoes?
What of these fancy cocktail shoes?
Look, there’s a paper stuck
To my pretty pointy shoes >>>

Shall we dance?

Born in Tehran in 1930 into a mixed family of a Tartar mother and an Azerbayjani father, Haideh Ahmadzadeh started dancing at the age of seven in a country that was struggling to keep up with modern times. Dancing for girls was not an accepted or desirable occupation. Her love of dance made her overcome many obstacles and with the approval and backing of her mother and later her husband Nejad, she got to the top of her profession. With a great deal of hard work, discipline and drive, Haideh and Nejad founded a Ballet Academy, Iranian National Ballet Company and Iranian Folk Dance, Music and Song Group. They performed regularly for State guests at home and abroad, their travels wrought with a great deal of incident and adventure>>>

Diaries & Jallad

K. was thinking about Wednesdays, caught in the middle with little or no respite, nearly always a working day, without any one questioning why weekends should always get the big breaks, then wondered if the predicament of Tuesdays or Thursdays was any better and answered yes, since Tuesdays were like Mondays fresh with work spirit and Thursdays bound up with the excitement of weekends breathing at their neck, and yet, the moment he remembered Jalil’s voice informing him recently that as of late Thursdays were being treated in government offices as an extension of Fridays, i.e., a longer weekend, he quickly shelved any comparison of poor lonely Wednesdays and Thursdays. It was past 7 pm and he was sitting across the table from Dr. Assadi at his small office on the second floor overlooking the yard where a trickle of patients were still milling about.>>>

بابا

راجع به مرده‌شور و مرده‌شورخانه از بچگی زیاد شنیده بودم. انواع و اقسام نفرین‌ها در ارتباط با این محل مثل: مرده شورتو ببرن! الهی رو سنگ مرده‌شورخونه ببینتم! الهی خودم مرده‌تو بشورم! مرده شوووور!... ولی هیچ وقت وصال دیدن این محل خوشبختانه نصیبم نشده بود و حالا میدیدم. همون سنگ معروف را که مرده را روش میزارن و میشورن را حالا میدیدم . خلاصه بابا را گذاشتن روی اون سکوی سنگی. ظاهرا همراهان میّت اجازه دارند در محل حظور داشته و ناظر مراسم باشند (البته غیرازخانم‌ها در بخش مردان و بالعکس). هیچوقت در عمرم مرده ندیده بودم. اصلاً دل دیدن یک چنین صحنه‌هایی را ندارم و هیچوقت فکر نمی‌کردم بتونم چنین صحنه‌ای را ببینم و بایستم به تماشا.>>>

An Invitation

There are many ways to live
But surely one of the best must be
To search out the art of living
Contemplating truth and beauty
To retire to the society of the wise
To take time for philosophy
If you permit me, I would say
This alone is to live, and to live well >>>

Dream On

I take my prayers and start
To kneed them into creamy dreams
And from that rich texture
I will sing encapsulating songs from the void in my heart
To wrap them into bitter sweets
Then I wakefully task myself again
To taking these dreams and with them
Create a hammock that sieves my anger -into singing daffodils >>>

A Good Night's Sleep

"Let's go to an American bar and have an American beer," I said. "All right," he said. I could see he was thinking of why did somebody have to stop going to a bar and ordering a beer in order for somebody else to know what it was. Somehow I thought that if it really was like that, if there really was a time when everybody in the world could do that, could just walk right in and order a beer wherever they were, there wouldn't be any need for any beer to order. There was a way we could each walk into a bar individually - sit down, have a look around, check the score of the game - and there was a way we could walk in together. I felt sorry for him. I felt sorry for me too, and I felt sorry for everyone in the bar. I felt sorriest for them because at least we knew the value of a good night's sleep. It was a losing business to look at Americans and wonder what they thought of the war >>>

What is the truth?

The “Cultural and Arts” division of the IRIB channel 3 has released a two episode documentary program directed at explaining the problem facing the Iranian Youth. It is centered around the popularity of Iranian Rap music and titled “Shock”. The program is quit dreadful in the level of untruthfulness and absurdity is uses to explain the issues and problems facing the young people of our nation. Some of the readers here might ask, “well, what did hell did you expect”? My answer is, more than what I saw!! A little about the Iranian youth, this crucial demographic group between the ages of 15 and 29 comprises more than one-third of the nation’s population>>>

آن سه شنبه ی شوم

آن روز، از زماني که با صداي زنگ ساعت چشم از خواب گشودم لرزه اي به جانم افتاد. بايد سريع حاضر ميشدم و چشم به راه تعميرکارِ شوفاژ ميماندم، گفته بودند براي تعميرِ دستگاه در طول روزِ ۱۱ سپتامبر سر ميزنند ولی ساعتش را مشخص نکرده بودند. سرتاسر روز در خانه ماندن و انتظار! دلهره اي غريب داشتم. دلهره ميراثي! دلشوره مزمن! يا به قولِ خاله ام: «دِلَه هولَه» دو سه روز بود که زير پلکم ميپريد و دستانم بي جان بود. گمان بردم که از سر خستگي است و بهتر است حداقل امروز را خانه بمانم و استراحت کنم. در خانه ماندن و انتظار صداي زنگِ در؟ هميشه حسِ وقوعِ حادثه اي شوم مضطربم ميکرد. پيش ترها به يادم مي آمد که هر بار پيش از هر حادثه شومي در خانواده، گرفتارِ اين دلشوره بي مورد ميشدم و از پيش آمدي ناشناس ميترسيدم و بي دليل کلافه بودم. حس ششم نبود؟ >>>

The country that is not

A renowned and experienced Swedish diplomat by the name Ingmar Karlsson has recently been the top news in Sweden. Some angry bloggers and newspaper columnists want him fired and some cheer him on. The reason has got nothing to do with his diplomatic work. It has to do with his latest book: Kurdistan, a country that is not (Kurdistan, landet som icke är). The title of the book (beside Kurdistan) is derived from a Swedish poem about a wonderful place that exist only in dreams and not in reality. Since the release of his book Mr Karlsson has been under heavy fire. >>>

Haleh's Story

You love someone else, you say
I am confused and anguished for having put my guard down
Long enough to let you into my heart
I so want to be done thinking about you, so I try but
It is her I can’t get out of my mind
It is not about her looks
It is not about her youth
It is not about her figure, what has me thinking about
For what difference would any of that make? >>>

Taking the lead

Parwin is in a middle of a conversation with one of the IFF volunteers in café de Balie in Amsterdam, when I arrive too late and all whet due to another Dutch September rain storm. Like a committed and skilled manager who is in the business for years, she delegates tasks and preparations for the Iranian Film Festival. It is a lot of work to organize a three day long festival while having a fulltime job. As a program manager at an idealistic organization she unites people of different cultural backgrounds by introducing art and film-related projects. Parwin speaks enthusiastically about the variety she is going to offer in the program of the IFF 2008. She was only 5 months old when her parents brought her to The Netherlands>>>