Iranian Woman
 

 


زن ايـرانـی
Iranian Woman
 

 
 
 

Can't Keep Quiet

 

 


Reelcontent.org

.

Recent

دختر کوچولو، هر از چند شبی ... نصفه شب بعد از دس...
The US is preparing for a financial war on Iran. ...
Whores and Other Feminists Whores and Oth...
Indigoviolin blogs: "The regime spends millions on...
What's good for the goose is good for the gander ...
"حتی تبعيد، پناهی برای آدم‌هايی مثل من نيست، که ر...
Citizen Journalists Here and here... and our...
15 prisoners will be executed in Gohardasht prison...
Enough. We have reached the breaking point! ... a...
دوستم الهام از ایران نوشته است: "جریان آزادی ...

Archives

03/01/2003 - 04/01/2003
04/01/2003 - 05/01/2003
05/01/2003 - 06/01/2003
06/01/2003 - 07/01/2003
07/01/2003 - 08/01/2003
08/01/2003 - 09/01/2003
09/01/2003 - 10/01/2003
10/01/2003 - 11/01/2003
11/01/2003 - 12/01/2003
12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004
01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004
02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004
03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004
04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004
05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004
06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004
07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004
08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004
09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004
10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004
11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004
12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005
01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005
02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005
03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005
04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005
05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005
06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005
07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005
08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005
09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005
10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005
11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005
12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006
01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006
02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006
03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006
04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006
05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006
06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006
07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006
08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006
09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006
10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006
11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006
12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007
01/01/2007 - 02/01/2007
02/01/2007 - 03/01/2007
03/01/2007 - 04/01/2007
04/01/2007 - 05/01/2007
05/01/2007 - 06/01/2007
06/01/2007 - 07/01/2007
07/01/2007 - 08/01/2007
08/01/2007 - 09/01/2007
09/01/2007 - 10/01/2007
10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007
11/01/2007 - 12/01/2007
12/01/2007 - 01/01/2008
01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008
02/01/2008 - 03/01/2008
03/01/2008 - 04/01/2008
04/01/2008 - 05/01/2008
05/01/2008 - 06/01/2008
06/01/2008 - 07/01/2008
07/01/2008 - 08/01/2008
08/01/2008 - 09/01/2008
09/01/2008 - 10/01/2008
10/01/2008 - 11/01/2008
11/01/2008 - 12/01/2008
12/01/2008 - 01/01/2009
02/01/2009 - 03/01/2009
03/01/2009 - 04/01/2009
04/01/2009 - 05/01/2009
06/01/2009 - 07/01/2009
07/01/2009 - 08/01/2009
08/01/2009 - 09/01/2009
10/01/2009 - 11/01/2009
11/01/2009 - 12/01/2009
12/01/2009 - 01/01/2010
01/01/2010 - 02/01/2010
02/01/2010 - 03/01/2010
04/01/2010 - 05/01/2010
05/01/2010 - 06/01/2010
06/01/2010 - 07/01/2010
07/01/2010 - 08/01/2010
09/01/2010 - 10/01/2010
10/01/2010 - 11/01/2010
11/01/2010 - 12/01/2010
12/01/2010 - 01/01/2011
01/01/2011 - 02/01/2011
02/01/2011 - 03/01/2011
03/01/2011 - 04/01/2011
04/01/2011 - 05/01/2011
07/01/2011 - 08/01/2011
11/01/2011 - 12/01/2011
12/01/2011 - 01/01/2012
04/01/2012 - 05/01/2012

 

 

Thursday, April 27, 2006

 

Ashura

I wrapped myself in my grandmother's black shawl, leaned against the turquoise blue exterior tiles of the mosque and stared at the mourning ceremony. It was Muharram, the month of admonition and marking the anniversary of the battle of Karbala (a civil war between the Shiites and Umayyad). I was watching the Shiite Muslims commemorating the martyrdom of Imam Hussein. It was customary for mosques to provide free meals on certain nights of the month to all people. My grandmother and every one in that neighborhood had arranged long wooden tables in the narrow street with water pots on top- years later in Boston, I saw similar arrangements in an Italian neighborhood fest. The meals served during Ashura were viewed as being special and holy, as they have been consecrated in the name of Hussein. My grandmother's house was located close to a Husseinieh where men and boys were portraying the Battle. It was a musical act, an Iranian opera, a religious dramatic play and reciting poetry. In the wake of the incident, men in inspiring high and low movements overwhelmed viewers by respect, love, fear, pain and death. Some of them engaged in chest beating were moving in circle. It was an odd set of circumstances. I was eight or nine and mesmerist by the event and by one of Karbala's children, a slim and shaved head boy. He was on the center stage, built temporary in the middle of the narrow street. In the damp night the performer boy looked quite sensational. He moved his hands with such passion and individualistic rituals that he made it almost impossible not to think he implored to capture audience attention. The tiles of the mosque, the air and my body felt warm. The devised gates of a forbidden zone was unhooking . As the war drums pounded louder, men parading around the stage slapped their chests harder for Hussein. At that moment I came to realize, I have my own set of mind and belief system!
  


 

 

Blogroll Me! Global Voices Online - The world is talking. Are you listening? Bookmark and Share Blog Directory - Blogged