Remembering Mona

Today, I found myself pondering on the life of Mona Mahmudnizhad, the teenager who was put to death in Shiraz solely on the basis of her religious beliefs as a member of the Baha'i community. The poem below by Shamlou captures what history has witnessed too many times:


مرد ِ تلخ که بر شاخه‌ی خشک ِ انجيربُني وحشي نشسته بود سری
جنباند و با خود گفت:
«چنين است آری.
مي‌بايست از لحظه
از آستانه‌ی زمان ترديد
بگذرد
و به قلمرو ِ جاودانه‌گي قدم بگذارد.
زايش ِ دردناکي‌ست اما از آن گزير نيست.
بار ِ ايمان و وظيفه شانه مي‌شکند، مردانه باش!»

حلقه‌ی تسليم را گردن نهاد و خود را
در فضا رها کرد.
با تبسمي.

Behold The Essense of Rain...

I thought it quite inconvenient when I saw that the weather forecast called for significant rain in Charlottesville over the weekend. Shahrzad and I like sleeping in on the weekends and then awakening gently by the rays of the sun as they tiptoe their way into our room!


Why does this happen everytime I am off, I thought to myself! Then, I pondered in Persian poetry, where rain is viewed as a blessing. I thought of the seven-year drought that has afflicted Eastern Africa. I remember that it was three years ago that in our very own Charlottesville the city had banned car-washing and suggested that citizens take three minute showers because we had experienced a rare drought in Central Virginia. How amazingly short-term our memory is! "Wash your eyes," as the poet suggests, so that you may behold the essense of rain. Here is a rough translation for the non-Persian speaking folks:

...
Wash your eyes,
Behold in a different light!
Your words must be,
The essense of wind,
Your words must be,
The essense of rain!

هر كجا هستم باشم
آسمان مال من است
پنجره فكر هوا عشق
زمين مال من است
چه اهميت دارد
گاه اگر ميگويند
قارچهاي غربت
چشمها را بايد شست
جور ديگر بايد ديد
واژه بايد
خود باد
واژه بايد
خود باران
باشد

The King of Festivals!

In the post-revolution Iran, where one always worried about wiretapping and "big brother" watching the activities of the community, the code word for the Festival of Ridvan, the holiest twelve days in the Baha'i Faith, was the "festival of flowers," or عید گل . Such is how we observed the festival and expressed our well wishes to other believers in public or on the phone without drawing too much attention. Below, is the greeting that Shahrzad and I made for this year's Ridvan, followed by another greeting I made in 2002. The greeting for this year was made using a picture of the "Collins Gate" at Bahji, the resting place of Baha'u'llah.

Have a wonderful Ridvan!

A Tribute to Mamaash

I remember growing up back in the motherland where my mom's office was a part of our apartment. Aside from learning lessons in medicine from eavesdropping behind the closed doors, my sister and I also became friends with her secretaries. I remember there was one secretary, Roya, who would help my sister style her hair or teach me dancing lessons! I also remember another one, Neda, who had a giant cat, affectionately named Mamaash. Mamaash ate a lot, and Neda was always looking for ways to get her more food. I remember she would draw cartoons of the angry and hungry Mamash on the desk calendars to remind herself to get food. Above is a picture of what Mamaash's cartoons looked like.

A few days ago, I went outside to help my neighbor fix his water sprinkler. Little did I know that I had left the door ajar despite Shahrzad's repeated pleas that the door must remain closed at all times. I came back to see Shahrzad at the door of our bedroom, speechless, pointing to the guest bedroom. I could tell from her expression that something had gone terribly wrong. She finally went on to say, "There is a cat under the bed over there!" Sure enough, nightmares of angry Mamaash came back to me in a rush. I recruited the help of our neighbor and Shahrzad, and a broomstick, and led the cat out of the house uneventfully!

On an unrelated note, here is a family picture from our visit to Khaleh Nahid's home in Maryland a few months ago:

Viva Downtown Mall!

The Historic Downtown Mall in Charlottesville is considered one of the finest urban parks in the country. This pedestrian mall is home to a vibrant collection of more than 120 shops and 30 restaurants located in the historic buildings on and around old Main Street in Charlottesville. The preserved red brick pavements, outdoor and indoor seating, fine dining, as well as world class shows at the Paramount Theater add to the charm of the Downtown Mall. People from all walks of life frequent the mall: gypsies, teenage fiddlers, bucket drummers, dancers, magicians, and peddlers selling exotic artifacts. If you have a moment, you should sit by the fortune teller. You will most certainly hear more than what you bargained for.

Last weekend, as Shahrzad and I paced through the Historic Downtown Mall, we viewed it in a different light, as if it no longer belonged to us. We tried to re-live the memories of many of our loved ones who set foot on the very pavements and enjoyed a drink or a meal on the premises. Here are some pictures of "famous" people on the Mall:

The legend of the dogwood tree

Dogwood trees are in full bloom in Virginia, and their silky white and pink colors glitter even at dusk. Dogwood is the state flower in Virginia, and of course Virginia falls on the so called "Bible Belt." As such, it is not surprising that the legend of the dogwood has religious undertones. It is said that the dogwood flower had many petals. But after the crucifixion of Jesus, the flowers shed all their petals but four, to represent their respect for the cross. Also, at the edges of the petals, small red dots appeared to represent the blood that Jesus shed on the cross.

While the story perhaps sounds far-fetched, I think the one who came up with the legend was quite clever. Look for yourself, and you may discover the subtle mysteries of this beautiful state flower:

!روزگار غریبی ست نازنین

From the recrudescence of the omnipresent anti-Baha'i rhetoric in the state controlled Iranian media, it is apparent that a new wave of persecution against this largest religious minority in well under way. The underpinning beliefs of the community that will fall victim to this campaign are non-violence and love. This environment of hatred reminded me of a wonderful piece by the late Persian poet, Shamlou, who speaks of how a suffocating environment can make the expression of love impossible:

The Beloved of God

An old Persian saying has it that guests are the beloved of God, or مهمان حبیب خداست
and as such, we always have a designated guestroom with clean sheets and scented candles that is freshly vacuumed and has "Pledged" shiny surfaces, lest they offend the "beloved of God." This past weekend, we had the distinct pleasure of hosting Elham and Elika Shabrokh and one of Elham's classmates, James, a Baha'i from Blacksburg at our home. We had a glorious time, especially since the guests brought the Ghormeh Sabzi! It is worthwhile to mention that the Persian food was prepared by James himself and it rivaled one of the best I have ever had.

The weather was rainy outside, so we did not venture out much, but we managed to cover a variety of topics ranging from fashion and gastronomy to US foreign policy. Despite our best efforts, we could not convince the guests to utilize the scented candles and the clean sheets and they chose to depart for Blacksburg instead. I guess I will save the Pledge wipes until the next round of God's Beloved people appear at 2328 Finch Court sometime soon!

How classic!

Two things never change:

1. Mehrdad will always be immersed in discovery of new things in his laptop.

2. My head will always be partially missing in pictures!

See example (also note the toes!):

The Bloodthirsty Prime Minister

In Charlottesville, a group of us are studying Ruhi book 4 at a snail's pace, on the life of twin manifestations. Our facilitator is Lin Cote, whom we affectionately call the "Jewish mother," and others in the group are the ever late Kaveh Khamooshi and the Persian hip hop queen Houriya Mahboobi. Then, there is Brian Cote, whose humor and wit are ever-present. Nima, the double doctor, occasionally makes a guest appearance. Shahrzad, the peace maker, is another indispensible member of the group.

Brian and Lin picked up on my critical commentary on how Ruhi sometimes over simplifies things. For instance, the prime minister who eventually ordered the execution of the Bab is labelled as selfish, incompetent, and blood-thirsty. I brought up that the man was not all evil and actually was competent in other affairs of the government and we need to be just in our study of history.

The conversation went on with many interpretations laced with humor and came to a new climax when Brian and Lin decided to make a doll out of the prime minister as a gift to me for my birthday. It is beyond the scope of this blog to point out how many painstaking hours they spent in the making of this doll and much fun they had in the process, and how their toaster oven caught on fire while the were cooking one of his belongings Brian had made out of clay... So, below you may find a picture of Ken (yes, the one that broke up with Barbie) transformed into a Qajar statesman, circa 1850 A.D. On him, he carries a book entitled: "10 easy steps to selfishness and incompetence." Shahrzad and I are glad that we will be able to take a piece of the Cote's humor along with us as we leave Charlottesville this July.

Parting with my shoes

"Arthis" may not ring a bell to anyone. It is no Nike or Reebok, but it was the brand name for a cheap pair of shoes I picked out in a downtown Tehran shoe store nearly 12 years ago. I did not think much of the brand name. They just seemed comfortable and appropriate for the occasional hiking trip I would make with friends on the trails of Darakeh North of Tehran. They also were my companion when I enrolled in an aerobics class with my long time friend and neighbor, Babak Mokri.

Above all, this pair has a very special significance. I wore these shoes on my expedition across the mountains of Azerbaijan to freedom. I never wore them again, as if there was a trace of Iranian soil still interlaced in the very fabric and soles of the shoes. But I made sure I held onto them, both as a reminder and an inspiration. I have moved four times and everytime, I latched onto these shoes.

Today, I parted with the shoes that I have carried for 12 years. I am getting rid of "junk" as I prepare for my next move and this time... I will have to go without my cherished shoes. I believe that they have served their purpose very well.

"Printemps" by Moshiri

Today, as I noticed the tree in our yard in full bloom, I thought of the late Fereidoun Moshiri. He was arguably one of the fathers of modern Persian poetry, who is best known for his famed piece "The alley," or "کوچه." He has a wonderful piece on the glory of spring. In this piece, he recounts and observes the intricacies of spring: the aroma of the rain on fresh grass, the tender twigs cleansed by the sprinkling of water, the weeping willow, the fragrance of narcissus, and the intoxicated chanting of the birds. He goes on to point out subtle image of the half-blooming rosebuds, whose youth he envies. He then invokes the freshness of the spring to refresh his saddened heart. I have attached the original for your perusal.


بوی باران، بوی سبزه، بوی خاک
شاخه های شسته، باران خورده، پاک
آسمان آبی و ابر سپید
برگ های سبز بید
عطر نرگس، رقص باد
نغمه شوق پرستوهای شاد
خلوت گرم کبوترهای مست ...
نرم نرمک می رسد اینک بهار
خوش به حال روزگار!

خوش به حال چشمه ها و دشت ها
خوش به حال دانه ها و سبزه ها
خوش به حال غنچه های نیمه باز
خوش به حال دختر میخک – که می خندد به ناز –
خوش به حال جام لبریز از شراب
خوش به حال آفتاب

ای دل من، گرچه در این روزگار
جامه رنگین نمی پوشی به کام
باده رنگین نمی بینی به جام
نقل و سبزه در میان سفره نیست
جامت، از آن می که می باید تهی است
ای دریغ از تو اگر چون گل نرقصی با نسیم!
ای دریغ از من اگر مستم نسازد آفتاب
ای دریغ از ما اگر کامی نگیریم از بهار

گر نکوبی شیشه غم را به سنگ
هفت رنگش می شود هفتاد رنگ!

Poisson d'avril...

Happy April Fool's day! The origins of this day come from the 1500s in France, where even after pope Gregory introduced the new Christian new year as January 1st instead of April 1st, some who had not heard of the change, continued to celebrate the new year on April 1st. Others, who were aware of the change, would invite the "fools" to fictitious parties and non-existent celebrations as a prank.

Today in France, French children fool their friends by taping a paper fish to their friends' backs. When the "young fool" discovers this trick, the prankster yells "Poisson d’Avril!" (April Fish!).

When in college, along with a few of my friends, we once impersonated another friend's ex-girlfriend on the email and professed a rekindled unconditional love toward the fool to be. Needless to say, after much embarrassmentt, to this day he is upset that he fell prey to the biggest April Fool's day prank of all time.

Here are some pictures from my 30th birthday celebration at a restaurant in Charlottesville, along with the Baha'i community: