The Height of Ambition and the Perseverance of a Dwarf

Dear Iranians

I share with you your pain, though I can only imagine very little of your suffering, disappointment and depression at this moment. You must have felt very lonely now, as if you are running into a dead end, when all you did was to fight for what is right. And with that all your hope and dignity seem to wither away.

On behalf of the world, I'm sorry.

You are neither dead, nor will you die.
You will always remain alive
You have an eternal existence.
You are the voice ("Neda") of the people of Iran

Simin Behbahani (June 2009)

Jeans and Broken Bricks

There was a woman, in her late twenties. Yesterday morning she woke up, put on her scarf over her highlighted hair, her lipstick, her makeup. She pulled up her jeans, and slipped her feet into her shoes.

As she opened the door of her apartment, she saw thousands of her fellow countrymen, all streamed in the direction of the sunrise in the desire of a new hope and freedom. But today there's none of that hope for all of that had been trumped by a delusional dictator, all for the need to preserve power and control. His self-denial of their humanity and the modernity that surrounds him, where religion isn't in the driver's seat anymore.

She walked down the concrete stairs, and soon found herself with strangers of Tehran. "Assalamualaikum," she greeted peace to them in the fresh morning air. She heard news of police clampdown, scared she did feel but with the strong men in her company she has nothing to be afraid of.

Later in the afternoon, she was with them hurling rocks and broken bricks at the paramilitary troops. Cheers erupted as the troops retreated behind a corner a few blocks away.

But out of nowhere, a scream of gunshots streamed past them like a dashing furious river. And one bullet caught her, just below the neck...

And how shocked she felt that that will all be it. The dignity of her life that she stood up for, the conversations she had with friends in coffeeshops, the hand of her boyfriend she tenderly held under the eyes of the Basij.

A few men rushed to drag her away from the shooting scene but the world was fading, and somehow it presented more joy to her than the world she grew up in. But at the same time she could not be sure if her death would worth all that she and her friends desired.

One of the men frantically stanched the wound. But to no reasonable eyes did it promise any measure of success. The other men were begging her to not give up, to stay on. Her eyes wandered among these noble people that she was proud to walk with, with whom she had chanted and marched in defiance of the overarching theocratic regime.

As her wide shocked eyes lost their last visible sign of life, and rolled weakly to the ground, shrieks and cries of anguish broke out in her vicinity. Blood quickly flowed from her mouth and nose. And as swiftly her lifeless eyes were flooded with crimson red.

I mourn and stand at this moment with the Iranians.

Iran: A nation of bloggers

I found this video from the Huffington Post page that reports on the riot in Tehran. It is happening now as we speak. My heart and prayers with the Iranians. I pray that they will achieve the freedom that they so deserved.

When it was all well

Light bulbs of variant colours strewn below the starlit sky. Music, guitars and drums blasted the air as the crowd moved in one synchronised motion, up and down to the upbeat melody.The singer cried out the emotion in resonance to what they were feeling that night. Alcohol. Boys and girls. Hugs, kisses. Giggles and charming smile.

He made his way through them while flowing skirts greeted him along the aisle. Guys are dancing with light steps on the dancing floor while their eyes fixed on those of their partners'. The timeless ritual of courting, diverse and transcends all cultures and most creatures. The natural bondness between a man and a woman, across the divide of mutual differences, stays with them, from the dance floor to the privacy of their rooms. From their beds to the morning call for breakfast.

As the music stops, he finally saw where she was, sitting with her thighs held close together with her feet spread apart. Her dark green gown matches her perfectly tanned skin. With drinks in both hands, he introduced himself and so did she. And that was how their night began.

_________________________

They later got together again. This time with families and friends. On the shores of the famous Mediterranean beach, before the bright clear sky above the wide sea. With sea gulls dotting the landscape, the priest uttered these words:

"I hereby pronounce you as man and wife."

Clapping of hands then followed, both those of the young and the old. Popping of expensive champagne bottles, young couples held their hands even more closely, inspired by this newly-weds. The old ones leaned on each other, reminded of their own journey.

Amid the celebration, he felt grateful, heart warmed, to be the luckiest man to find the perfect woman. He stared at her, and whispered this:

"I love you. You have no idea how happy I am."

She smiled, and returned him with a stare that he would expect.

"I love you too."

_________________________

The days that followed went by like any typical newly-married couple. They soon greeted their first baby, and now they are a family for the first time. It was then followed by all the concerns and things that any family would be dealing with. From the purchase of diapers to a new baby crib. From taking turn to carry her to rearranging financial priorities.

However, just like some couples, difficulties soon arise until it was only the child that held them together. Without the child, things would have been disturbingly different.

He got home from work, from a stressful day, like any other working days. Door opened, and he saw his wife feeding their 5-year-old daughter. But the image did not present to him an unequivocal comfort. It was mixed feelings. Questions began to surface as to how he actually felt about her now but not alarming enough to preoccupy his thoughts.

Several steps to the child, and she did not turn up to look at him. The child did, and how glad she was to see him, smiling with her small baby teeth shown. And it was her that he felt unequivocal, undoubted affection and comfort. My daughter, he thought. But only if she had been our daughter too.

_________________________

A body fell heavily to the floor with a heavy thud. Sweat trickled down his temples, throbbing with uncontrollable fury. Moments ago, he had grabbed her by the collar of her blouse and threw her off. As a result her head knocked the night stand, the lamp on top shook and it almost fell on her, threatening to seal whatever damage he might have wreaked already. Before that, they had got home from his company's dinner party and both had settled into sofas, different sofas with some distance apart. Quarrels had erupted unexpectedly, and he couldn't understand how he got into this.

The body moved. She was still alive. As she rose up, he could see blood on the floor where her 'dead' face had laid. She quickly ran to the door, he tried to stop her, sincerely wanting to check on her injury. This time she did turn up to look at him alright, but her forehead was so seriously bruised that blood covered her left eye and all that made the bitterness between them more pronounced. What he saw now out of her own eyes was hatred and anger. It was an understatement that apology was not enough now. In fact not that it would be inappropriate, far more than that, it would only be cruel.

"Mommy, daddy?" he could hear his daughter through the door. She didn't hesitate, she yanked the door opened. No sooner had her hateful image dissipated than the person itself disappeared.

"Mommy..." This time the voice was clogged with tears and shock.

His right hand was now covered with blood.

What had gone wrong?

Iran's Green Tsunami?

Moving on without Him

Originally published on 25 July 2008 under 'Atheism', now republished in conjunction with the recent publication of Robert Wright's book "The Evolution of God"

A child of the mob once asked an astronomer who the father was who engendered him in this world? The scholar pointed to the sky, and to an old man sitting, and said: “That one there is your body’s father, and that your soul’s.” To which the boy replied: “WHAT IS ABOVE US IS OF NO CONCERN TO US, and I’m ashamed to be the child of such an aged man!” O WHAT SUPREME impiety, not to want to recognize your father, and not to think God is your maker!

- Barthélémy Aneau

The statement is an example of atheism's relation to immorality. Growing up in Malaysian society, I had always been used to the idea that morality comes from God, and with God only would morality makes sense.

However, most of our moralities today did not come from the Bible, or the other so-called God-inspired texts. On this I agree with Richard Dawkins, author of the book "the God Delusion". In fact, most of our moralities are shaped and formed by human experience, our rationality, our philosophies, our wars, our own sufferings, our history. It is guided today by our communities' sensibilities. I'd agree though that these God-inspired texts do inspires and motivates us to do the right thing. But I also believe that humankind will one day mature and be confident to rely on its own intellect.

I do not think that we need a God who in the past condones a mass rape of virgins, inhumane slaughter of the Jews who were fighting to defend their way of life or command you to kill your brother for his unbelief, and who seemed to only recently shares our compassion for human rights and religious plurality. I appreciate the effort done by millions of religious leaders in presenting this God as compassionate and merciful, benevolent, the teachers who appeals for moderation and sensibility towards others' rights, despite the persistent call from the religious text to feel contempt for those who do not believe.

We do not need God. We are made to think we are too weak to breathe on our own. In fact, we ought to know that, religious doctrines are not to be taken too seriously. It was never at one point in time that our forest-foraging ancestors could identify with this God. Humanity, in the early days, with its highly-evolved cerebral cortex could not comprehend disasters and diseases with so little the knowledge they had. So came anxiety and thus the need to appease the "spirits" wherever they are. Then animism cease to make sense to most of us, then we progress to polytheism and then to monotheism. Monotheism began with the belief of a supreme almighty God above all the lower deities, then progress to a lone personal omniscience omnipotent God with the deities 'demoted' to ranks of 'angels'. Today, with modern science that challenge traditional monotheism, it just makes more sense that we refer to God as a metaphor of the Universe and Nature itself, passive and stripped of his human emotions like anger, with which he was formerly associated with. And guess what, atheism, like monotheism, could be just another progress.

The fear of God doesn't go well with our modern conscience that places value on our freedom of choice. Our worldview has evolved with what we know today, far more than these past well-intentioned religious teachers. The Arabs in the Jahiliyah Age were stuck in their out-dated belief system and ideas. They invested all their resources and energy to no-more worthwhile customs and traditions, like tribe loyalty and honour-killing. Prophet Muhammad was determined to reform the whole Arabian society with new better ideas of monotheism that he gained from his business travel. That is why he placed utmost emphasis on honest knowledge-seeking.

However, if God needs to be displaced in the course of this seek of knowledge, so let it be. It's time that we shake hands with God and thank him for his security and inspiration, without which we wouldn't have made this progress. It's time that we move on, and not to desperately cling onto what's old and familiar.