Wednesday, November 19

Tehran, a city of certain charm and...

In the heart of the Middle East, in an ancient land of Iran, I was born and bred in Tehran; the city of dangerous charm and enviable spirit, a jewel in the palm of Damavand. Tehran of my time was the city of tall sycamore trees, narrow alleyways, old architecture, mysterious courtyards, historic gates and squares, a rarity in its own right. An old city with a young soul, ambitious in heart and quick in temper, but above all, Tehran was really honest about being what it was, what it could offer and what it would take away from you in return! A little unconventional, perhaps, a little daring and shocking at times, Tehran had its own charisma, and, with a generous heart accommodated the needs of a colourful crowd.

I loved Tehran because of its ease in revealing its true colours, its tolerance for everything that a thriving city had to endure, its dubious reputation, and its powerful influence on those who came to love or despise its guts. Despite its cruel nature of being the hub of the opportunists, self-seekers, and sons-of-bitches of all walks of life, Tehran was the city that I liked to live in, experience life, and leave a memory behind.

I loved and adored Tehran, because it was more than a generous city in tolerating scums and crooks. Tehran was, also, a progressive cosmopolitan quite serious in providing well for those who were doing their own things, without disturbing the spirit of generosity and hospitality. In one simple sentence, Tehran, with all its roughness and curtly of a thriving city, was a city of hope—even though, at times, it acted a little bit stingy in offering any at all!

But, after the establishment of the despotic power of “the Islamic Republic,” and during the “sacred-war,” Tehran, with its bruised face and ruined image, became the gloomy capital of the fascist state; the air filled with the stench of fear, sweat and blood, the streets crammed with those who were doomed to rot, later on. Tehran was no more Tehran. Many lamented the death of the spirit of Tehran, and many used the event as an occasion for taking advantage and make up for things they had never possessed, but those who witnessed the fall of that city, would never forget what they lost!

Nowadays, I don’t live in that city anymore, and all I hear about Tehran is so confusing, discouraging, and surreal that I’d rather remember Tehran just as it was in my own time! No melancholy, no regret, I had seen the best of Tehran, and will always keep the best of it in my heart. And in my heart I am still hopeful!


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

what an amazing post. I love your writing.
And i love Tehran Too!!!!!!!