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November 26, 2007

Once again, the town I loved

That is the title of a beautiful book by Reza Ebrahimi. raw sentiments of a man toward his hometown at a new beginning. The book is written with such heartfelt longing that it does crawl under your skin and shake your bone. I read t in my teens, leaving in Tehran, My town, but as a young man who had never left all he had, and was secure within the everyday habits of his life, I could not have understood it as I do now.

It is so very hard to separate our culture from our religion. Although in my business life I have come across many of my Jewish friends that are truly Iranians although they practice. The high school I used to attend was primarily a Seventh Day Adventist school that also accepted Muslim and Jewish students. We started each day with a prayer in the small Chapel. There was a great tolerance toward other religions but this was Uptown. This was were upper Middle class lived. The rate of education was high amongst the heads of the house holds. Mostly Doctors, or high ranking government employees, and of course the entrepreneur merchants that owned factories or were involved in export and import.

If you travelled for an hour toward down town, you would notice how the scenery changed. and if you went further another half an hour, getting close to the Gates of the Old Tehran, then the change was much more drastic. You had to pass Bazaar before you got there, and Bazaar was probably a two miles square compound of wholesalers of raw materials like Iron products, netting wire, wool, Fabrics, paper, and many more. Some of the most powerful, richest Merchants had started in Bazaar as an apprentice, and had made their millions by their Forties or fifties. These were mostly smart, shrewed individuals who had learned their trades in the school of hard knocks. Many of them did not know how to read or write, some younger ones had attended elementary and maybe even high school.

Bazaar was the heart of the economic power of Iran. And amongst these merchants they controlled over billions of
dollars worth of commodities and trade. About ninety percent of these merchants were practicing Muslims, and mostly quite devoted to their religion. You had to wear your religion on your sleeve to be successful amongst them. You had to attend the afternoon prayers at the local Mosque, and be seen there. You had to give away your Zakat(5% of your earnings) or Sahme Imam ( Share of the Imam from your earnings). You had to attend overnight Ahya (sermons at the Mosque during the holly month of Ramadan, and Ashura and Tasoa ceremonies). You would throw dinners for all the attendance of the Mosque during the holly month, and you would do this all brazenly in front and showing. Once you had accumulated enough wealth that you had no debts, you also would go to Mecca for Haj ( every Muslim is obligated to go to Mecca at least once in their lives to pay respect to the house of God and participate in religious rituals there) and once you come back from Haj you would add the word Hajji (someone who has been to haj ) to your name and off course that would elevate your position amongst the other merchants.

Most of these Merchants would have lavish houses uptown, and commuted to work every day in their latest European or American cars. Their kids would be exposed to the more modern ways of life amongst the educated Doctors engineer's kids and they attend some of the best schools and even go to universities. Some of the Hajjis become exposed to European lives by their wives and kids, and even might enjoy a beer or a drink at night. Their religions would start to lose its grip as their standing elevated amongst their peers uptown. But these Hadji's kept their appearances, many would never wear a tie with their suites, many would have a two day stubble's, and of course the mark that their MOHR ( the stone you push your forehead against while you are kneeling and praying)
on their foreheads.

Some would add a bit of a spice to their double life by having a woman on the side quietly. they would buy her an apartment in mid town, and pay for her living. They could have a SIIGHEH ( a man can marry a women for a period of time, that was preset by agreement of the two parties. By reading a certain Surret from Quran in which the woman agrees and accepts that she is willing to become a short term wife, and union was not sin and accepted by the religion.). The man would have full control of such a union and he could release her and himself by simply
telling her that he is done and she s divorced. There are many tails, stories in Iranian books and movies of the tragedies that are caused by this ritual. Many of these women became pregnant, and many kids were born and raised in such situations.


-will continue


Posted by Idinraha at 11:15 AM | Comments (0)

November 24, 2007

Writers write

I was reading some of my rants on the site, old ones. I guess that in many ways fulfills the promise of this discipline.
I enjoyed them. I enjoyed the words, how they had come together, their projection and their flight. How could a writer not write?. someone asked me long time ago. I had no answer, for next to our gathering with my wife and kids, waking up in the morning or getting sleep talking to my wife in bed, there is nothing as fulfilling to me as writing.

There is a season to everything, a time, and so many other elements - an audience, a muse, inspirations, and it seems for the short while that I posted everyday here, I had it all. but time is fluid, it passes, people change, muses go away, the audience leaves or the writers becomes disillusioned, and earth moves in its deliberate motion. But the words stay and live for an eternal forever. I do have an obsessive compulsive charachter on top of so many other shortcomings, I do not stick around for too long, I get bored, and I fly away.

But these are interesting times, there is so much mayhem and destruction in the world. The rise of the Yellow race, the dying of the Green Africa, the intolerance of accepted moralities, and the indifference of so many good men. The Global warming that is sold retail, Causes that are made to front profiteers, the ever struggles of Good, Evil, and bored. Its the Primary Season for packed audiences and calculated answers at prime time debates.

Same characters, different names, same thirst for power, same greed, as perverted as ever. The world is a stage and the show must go on. We have it all in all colors, minions of color coded morals and values, the script is written, the piper is paid, God is in exile and humanity in its full arrogance and savagery is on a hunt. Silence is the language of God, and in all our pretenses we are not Godly, so what does a writer do, if we can call ourselves one, we write.

We object , we disagree, we mock, we chew the words and spit, we persuade, we call, we incite, we revel,
we say, we define, and say it again, we decipher, we count, we deliver, we move, we push, we invite, we deny , we deliver and we write..................................

So let us not lose heart, let us find a new season, a new rise within our bones, find our voices, warn of the wicked ones coming our way, warn of the storm in the horizons afar, warn of the decay of the quiet days, read, comprehend, understand, and offer our words, our opinion, come what may...............................

Posted by Idinraha at 12:15 PM | Comments (0)

November 14, 2007

the woods are inviting..............

Lets, lets go to the beginning, lets turn the page, remember my smile, I cherish your whisper, hold my hand and
lets walk to the woods, again for a new beginning, lets listen to the wind, and allow the rays of the sun to soothe our skin, lets be curious and celebrate a new beginning, lets be curious and watch with wonder in our eyes and thirst deep inside .....

remember my smile, i cherish your whisper, leave the distances be, and get closer, there is so much, so very much to see, so very much to say, the woods are inviting, we are better now, much calmer and we understand time, lets begin another story...... lets.......

the woods re inviting, and soon you remember, how much you loved me, how much you love me, the enigma, me, your enigma, the one you do not understand but still .............................you will remember how you loved me, and I will be your guide, your beloved, your friend, the enigma, your enigma, for I have been yours for an eternal ever, you know the one who make you smile, the one that writes you poems and decipher them to you each day, loud and clear, don't hide your smile, you know that for an eternal forever I have been yours, and I will be your poet soldier.

Posted by Idinraha at 05:37 PM | Comments (0)

Turn in.........reach

Driving the narrow roads at dusk, I wondered the reality of the realm we live in, does the world, our world begins upon recognition of the conscious self and thus demises upon its death. did it matter what happened before and
does it matter what will happen after.........................

Some one said happiness is looking forward to something, a kiss, a hello, a smile, the smell of baked bread, the colors of spring, the loneliness of the first snow. I have left the harbor and there is no going back, staring at the horizon , riding the waves. I think I left too soon, I think I didn't have to..........but there was so much to see, so much
to learn, and the promise of the new beginnings.......................................

I am wearing my beard longer these days, it is mostly white around my face, somehow it softens my face and it does make me look older........I Like that. I also find myself touching my face more, I guess at this point in my life it suits me well. I wore a bright Orange T shirt under my brown shirt and I liked its brightness, I like the fit of loser clothing, dressing in layers, and the bright orange makes me smile.

Turn in, turn in, I tell myself, walk slower, look further, its all here, everything I need , everything I want, close at hand ......... Just reach, Just reach.........I tell myself. The beloved is close so close you do not see, turn in, turn in,
and watch all there is of all you wish, the beloved, the kiss, the first snow, and the smile that crowns the day.....
Just turn in and reach, reach...................................

It is much simple than it seems, allow the words their freedom, the liberty they seek and the jest as they breathe and become, and then let them go and lay in silence, picture the world in your hands and then slip it slowly in your pocket, it can be your oyster, it has been , it is and if you reach, turn in, it will be.

Dressing in layers allows you to disrobe in layers, one by one, at home at the end of the day where you can leave all there was out, and turn in, reach

Posted by Idinraha at 05:08 PM | Comments (0)

November 01, 2007

Fragile Moon

Time goes by, I am sleeping better these days. Have to push myself , step by step, I think is the struggle that I like, I do a lots of crossword puzzles, trying to focus with my bad eye. As I said I like the struggle. Comfort bores me, there always should be more, a bit further, maybe behind the next door, curiosity, I told Dr Kline how I am getting interested in Science magazines, even Car magazines.

I am also becoming more selfish, more private, Do not think I want to share, at least not with the people I know, why should I let them inside. Loneliness becomes easier once you accept it. I read Wayne Dyer these days and his words wash over me. Calms and cleanse me. The light at the end of the Tunnel is so far away but time is my friend, I will crawl, and in time I would get there, in the mean time there is so much to learn, " you never change what you are and never stop changing who you are".

I have always said, it is between writing and therapy. I enjoy both, Captive audiences in both case. But writing for me is even more internal, there is no projection and it mostly dwells in subconscious. I like that. There is no road map, no guidelines, you come hungry and leave fullfield, even if for a day. There are simpler ways to live and many ways to be simple. You are what you are, and it is what it is...............................

Walking in the painting for a stroll in the scenery, and looking further beyond where the picture finishes and the frame stands solid, but you could if you want sneak in, at your own peril, curiosity, madness, or attraction of unknown, unseen, unexpected.

I have a big head, a big square head, sometimes I feel the pain in my skull, or a certain coolness inside my brain, my head, big square head. I don't now if his passing throw me a loop or gave me an excuse to miss the woods and the midnight strolls. To question everything again, like when I used to stare at the sun, knowing it would hurt but I could not stop. That was many moons ago.

I had been struggling to come back here, I knew I had to , and I am glad I am here although as a guest I have worn
my welcome, but I rely on Kindness of strangers and patience of friends. I am a hermit , I enjoy being left alone.

Posted by Idinraha at 11:36 AM | Comments (0)