Iran syndrome

The story is familiar. It is a mild October day in New England. One can paint the sky blue with many little white clouds and scarf the quality dreams and call it impressionism! After hours of fever... I can confidently say that I am sick. The little girl and I are burning and no amount of satellite dish or talking to my father can bring back my mother from death. Tomorrow is her birthday and it seems as if she never passed away. ... She would be 62 tomorrow (My dad insists that she would be 64! Anyway...)

Nothing can justify the unnecessary revolution and the ensuing mass murders of the Kurds, Political prisoners, Bahaies, etc. at the hand of the Islamic regime. The pathological liars whose deceitful and cruel belief system has condemned the Iranian nation to a life in misery and humiliation! And the growing number of people that blog under the banner of reformism gives me a toxic feel, as does the suffocating air in Tehran these days. The main difference between Khatamist charlatanism and Ahmadinejad's extremism should be sought not in ideology but in their honesty about the true nature of the regime.

Sheema Kalbasi

Iran: Lives Are Worth Nothing

Pro Rafsanjani blogers claim Ahmadinejad's latest comment will have severe consequences for Iran. This is while Rafsanjani said the exact same thing. In fact Rafsanjani said: Iran will bomb Israel and if Israel in return bomb Iran the loss will only be around one million Iranian lives!

On his October 26th, 2005 post Hossein Derakhshan writes: "The referendum project is unrealistic in principle and turning it to an organized political movement doesn't help it either. Especially given its neo-conservative supporters who are also behind Reza Pahlavi." The referendum may or may not be realistic but what is bizarre is the misrepresentation of the Iranian regime by supporting (or blogging about,) the regime by presenting their case to the blogosphere-dermatologists around the world and believe a chemical face peeling a.k.a. a the reform movement from within the regime may actually change the Islamic legal system of the republic! ********* I am sick with fever and every delicious thing that accompanies the memories and this season at my home! So I decided to bake... bread with mushroom and broccoli... thinking... this may change my daughter's opinion of Broccoli. Seeing her reaction to this particular vegetable makes me wonder what has gone wrong between her and her babyhood's love affair with this green! Anyway ... not because of the Broccoli... but for other reasons... I came across this blogger... now I am posting this recipe for other moms to try... hoping to answer if only... to the cry of one human-mom! 1 bunch of broccoli, or broccoli crowns fresh ginger, according to taste 3 cloves garlic (unless you get gas, which broccoli tends to produce anyway) red pepper flakes olive oil water Skin broccoli, and put small pieces in the pot. Cover with ginger, garlic and red pepper flakes. Add just enough olive oil and water to make steam. Cover, and cook for five minutes, until you can put a fork in the broccoli. But don't overcook. (via Larry Bloom's blog)

To see Worlds in a grain of sand,
And a Heaven in a wild flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,
And Eternity in an hour.
.

.

.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

-William Blake, "Auguries of Innocence"

The cleft of civilizations: when liberal West "Chalabifies" western-leaning liberal Iranians, while promoting bigots as indigenous liberals.

Day ten

It is Friday and my husband and I... have a lunch date at the panera bread.... I drive through the narrow driveway and park the silver car close to the restaurant. I still have 15 minutes before he appears and waves at me. I walk pass the golden-brown door and find us a table. My back is straight from the pain and my eyes randomly close on the people... who are walking in. I am thirty-two... Maman... and I hear a lady's voice laughing loud and clear. I am shaken. It is your laughter! I look around and my desire remains virgin. Tears spring to my eyes and awaken by the sudden urge to sniff and sniff... I search through the faces. My foot starts bouncing back and forth. If I was a smoker... this would be the time to light up one! Ten days to your birthday and I sit in a Panera Bread restaurant with a Cherry-vanilla pink ribbon bagel on my plate. I am waiting for my husband to help me fast forward my day... before I lean to the woman sitting next to me and ask if she can help me wipe the wrinkles of being motherless off my thirty two year old face.

You would be fasting! It is your Ramadan, mother!

Sheema Kalbasi

'Iran cops' kill man for eating in Ramadan'

دکتر راتی ساکسینا شاعره هندی و محقق سانسکریت... مترجم تعدادی از اشعار انگلیسی ام به زبان هندی می باشد... وی سایت تازه اش را راه اندازی کرده...
اینجا

----
A reader's response to my Sunday, October 16, 2005 "When the Iranian intellectuals have the microphone!":

Bush - Halliburton’s lips don't move when he speaks. I still cringe at the idea he invaded a Middle Eastern country using the word crusade. His reason for going into Iraq all proved false as anyone with any sense could see from his doctored "proofs". The when the other reasons didn't work he got all sensitive about the plight of the Iraqi people. As if he ever really cared about the plight of anyone who isn't rich. Now he has a quagmire, has had to downgrade the place we are really needed (Afghanistan) and has the forces so stretched he can't do much about Iran. Ironically, if democracy does succeed the succeed it will mainly be because of the secular climate caused the education policies of Sadaam's regime.

Blair - Bush's jailhouse bitch on the Iraq.

Chirac - it is sad to see a French politician throw tantrums in public because he isn't getting his share of the spoils.

---
Sheema (myself)--- now... I am sure you mean well!

و هر شام ...
در آرزوی
کاسه ای شیر برنج - و خواهری
بی نقص از نقش سنگی بر تن...
با کفشهای براق و دستانی کوچک-
با ناخنهایی جویده
به انتظار نشسته و مژگانم را
دانه دانه تک تک
م ی ی ک ن ن م!

----------------------
سه تا از اشعارم در فلش که توسط آقای احسان عابدی مدیریت می شود چاپ شده...

دختر کوچولو مرتب و آراسته هست و برخلاف مامان شلخته و بریز و بپاشش... صبح بعد از خواب باید حتما صورتش رو بشوره... موهاش رو خودش شونه کنه... پیراهن بپوشه... کفش پر زرق و برق پاش کنه و روی موهاش تاج بزنه... انگشتر و النگو دستش کنه... بعد بریم طبقه پایین که یک کم کارتون ببینه (عادت کارتون دیدنش عوض شده... به جای ساعت چهار صبح که باید افتان و خیزان می رفتم پایین... ساعت شش بیدارمون می کنه!) صبحانه بخوره...مسواک بزنه... اگر روز مدرسه باشه... لباسهاش رو عوض کنه... حاضر بشه که بره مدرسه و اگر روز کلاسهای تکواندو و باله باشه ... هم که باز هم شوفر-مانی در خدمت خانم کوچولو حاضره! و اما ... هالووین در راهه و دختر دوست داره سیندرلا باشه... و از اونجایی که من و پ همیشه... همه چی رو براش نمی خریم... دیدیم که دیگه بالاخره سه و سال و نیمش هست و باید یواش یواش یاد بگیره پولش رو جمع کنه... گفتیم هر روز یک سکه (همون یه قرون سابق خودمون) بهش می دیم (زحمت می کشیم!) که بندازه توی قلکش... و وقتی پولهاش رو جمع کرد... می ریم که لباس رو بخریم... و دیشب خوشحال با لباسی که خودش (مثلا) پولهاش رو جمع کرده ... خریده... روی زمین نشسته بود و عکس برگردونهاش رو تو کتاب سیندرلاش می گذاشت... که این عکس رو ازش گرفتم...