Arts and Literature

A geography lesson

In a rather warm June morning, I buy a poppet from Maryam for 400 toomans. Maryam looks at me and the notes surprisingly. She smiles and let me take some photos of her. As I want to leave, she sends her greetings to my wife. “I don’t have any” I say. Maryam looks at me wondering, asking me: “How do you live then?” I don’t know what to say to Maryam whom in her 12 years’ life hasn’t been out of Masoule at all. Up til this moment I haven’t thought either how I could live without a wife! >>>

Camping in Big Sur

My tent is small
I put my boots outside
When I put them on in the morning
My socks become all wet
I look at my neighbor's huge tent
and his dog behind the screen door
Grinning at me
>>>

در اردوی «بیگ سِر»*

چادرخواب من کوچک است
چکمه هایم را بیرون می گذارم
صبح که آنها را به پا می کنم
جورابهایم خیس می شوند
به سراپرده ی همسایه نگاه می کنم
و سگی که از پسِ درِ توری
به من پوزخند می زند
>>>

Iran's Rock Prodigies

WASHINGTON, DC - Emerging on the global music scene not long ago, Hypernova proves to be a legend in the making, already. Rocking out sold-out venues in major cities across the world, these Iranian rock-prodigies, Raam (Vox/Guitar), Kodi (Lead), Kami (Drums), Jam (Bass), are a part of all that’s prideful and consuming about being Iranian. Jamming away in unison passionately, Hypernova creates a magical sort of synergy between themselves and their fans>>>

All birds are my friends!

Most days, during late mornings or early afternoons when I just have gotten up, with my hair still in a mess and dressed in my morning robe, a cup of black coffee in my hand and a lit cigarette standing in the balcony, I get a visit by a sparrow. He comes and sits very close to me on the edge and talks to me. He brings me news and briefings form the previous night’s adventures in the other realm, which I visited during the night in my sleep.>>>

Aim high

A prince, a hero
a healer, a rebel,
what they had in common
was need.
The prince wanted
a world to see,
the hero his people
to finally free, >>>

The Spider Killings: Conclusion

Roxanne had just finished emailing her story to the newspaper office in Tehran. “The Spider Killer Dead in His Own Web!”, the headline of the newspaper would read in the special evening edition. They had found the remnants of seven bodies buried in Sharif’s garden, and they suspected that the oldest one was that of his wife, Azam. Along with the more recent victims found scattered inside and in the outskirts of the city of Mashad, the body count totaled sixteen. There was no doubt that Sharif was the Spider Killer as each corpse found interred in his backyard had the telltale signs of having been strangled to death>>>

The last TV tycoon

Born April 17th 1930 in Tehran Iran, Reza Badiyi moved to the United States in the 1960s to pursue a film career. He was educated at Syracuse University. He has Over 40 years of industry experience which include over 400 hours of primetime television, four feature films, and more than 60 documentaries. His directing credits include episodes of Mission Impossible, Star Trek Deep Space Nine, Hawaii Five-O, The Six Million Dollar Man, Starsky and Hutch, Cagney & Lacey, Falcon Crest, Baywatch, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, La Femme Nikita and dozens more. He received the Gold Medal of Art from the hands of the Shah of Iran in the mid 70's. >>>

How the hyena got its laugh

In the largest and most famous pack of hyenas in South Africa, lived over 90 dull, dangerous aggressive spotted hyenas…OK, maybe they weren’t so famous, and there wasn’t so many of them, but one thing is true though, and that is, that this story is very ancient, and that is exactly why you should hear it now, before it is lost in the mist of time. Now among them lived a playful and happy baby hyena. Now be prepared for a shock. These hyenas did not have a laugh, they never even imagined having one>>>

رنگ آمیزی چشمان بی رنگ تو

آرام از کنار خانه ی تو گذشتم بی آنکه درش را بزنم .آرام بی آنکه حتی گل های آفتابگردان سرشان را بگردانند و نیم نگاهی به رد پای من بکنند. از کنار نرده های خانه ات که می گذشتم به رنگ آمیزی در و دیوار نگاه کردم و به یاد آن روزی افتادم که برای نقاشی صدایم کرده بودی. ساعت نه صبح بود که زنگ خانه ام را زدی. تازه میز صبحانه را جمع کرده بودم ، فنجان قهوه به دست در را باز کردم .با کلاه حصیری قهوه ای رنگ و لباس کار ایستاده بودی. دوچرخه ات را به نرده خانه تکیه داده بودی باصدای نرمت گفتی هنوز آماده نشده ای؟>>>

Dream of becoming

It is dark. Lying under my bed, touching the thick harsh wooden board that holds the mattress, touching the cold metallic bed frame, listening to the drum-like sound of artilleries aimed at invisible enemies. The darkness of night blankets the absurdity of the situation, and still knowing that does not help me to calm down. I lower my hands to the ground, pressing the floor, hard, as if I am trying to dissolve into it, to transform into cold grey vapor--smoke and ashes. My body, my fingers, my back, feel numb, but still not as numb I dream of becoming>>>

امشب لوچیا می رقصد

لوچیا ارام و باهوش و بی سر و صدا و بی جنجال است. وقتی سرش را کلاه میگذارند، لوچیا خاموش می ماند و با دستهایش، با همان دستهای فرز و مهربانش تند و تند چیزی را تکرار می کند که من دقیقاً نمی فهمم و لوچیا نفس عمیقی می کشد و دوباره همان را از سر تکرار می کند و آنقدر تکرار می کند تا بفهمش. وقتی می فمهش و از آنچه بر سرش آمده خشمگین می شوم و فریاد می کشم، لوچیا نفس عمیقی می کشد و ساکت می نشیند. >>>

The Spider Killings (20)

Ever since he had caught a glimpse of Azadeh wailing over the body of her dead friend in front of the Mausoleum of Imam Reza, Sharif, like a hungry tiger fixated on its prey, had kept close track of her. He had followed her to the police station, wondering when she would be released from questioning, hoping he could approach her for a ride then. But for the two days that Sharif kept his vigil, he had been thwarted in his plans. Coming and going, Azadeh was always accompanied by an older woman. An older woman who struck Sharif as one he had seen before. Well obviously, she must be a prostitute too. These morally ill women stuck together after all>>>

Mother’s Day

Before I became “Mother”
Worry was just a word
Sleep meant long, peaceful nights
Didn’t need fairytales, lullabies or sweet lies
Before I encountered motherhood
Tiny fingers wouldn’t tug at my heart
Someone else’s pain couldn’t make me die >>>