Monday 14 April 2008

The last time that I met Searching for the President in Tehran

"It hurts when you have to press that dull little thing
That you are supposed to use once and then discard
Wish I had more, more opportunity
More chances to remember something
You are personally responsible for
The entire strip to be washed away
Cleansed as if gallons of, um, rubbing alcohol
Flowed through the strip and were set on fire"

Kurt Cobain (February 1967-April 1994)


I saw him like always, with tight jeans, lose T-shirt and dirty Converse. He came toward me.

- Ali, The man died...
- When?
- Yesterday, I heard in Voice of America...In the morning...
- How?
- They said suicide, but you know how...
- Overdose?
- What else can be?...It is all for that bitch...
- Ditch the bitch...
- We are all gonna meet up after the school...In Sasan's basement...His brother and the band are gonna play for Kurt...
- But I don't think I can make it
- Why?!!
- I have to study
- Fuck you man...Today?
- I can't..
- Fuck you pussy...Go and fucking shave!!!

And I didn't answer....I didn't go but I didn't study either....I spend all day in my room listening to Nirvana. Yasha called me in the night....We went for a walk and talking about Kurt and making stupid comments about his death...

But the man was dead, regardless to our comments and the stories we were making by our imaginations....

The day after, it was around 40 of us in a hidden corner of Alborz with a portable HI-FI listening to Smell Like Teen Spirit....Some bastards informed the school officials, and well, my parents should have come to the school and met the officials for the second time in one week....

Of course we found out who the bastard was and we treated him nicely after the school...

It is now 14 years after that day and I am still listening to the man...I have changed, many things have changed...Non of school mates are in my life anymore but the man and his voice is still around...

And I am still studying....And still like old Innocent days, sometimes I just stay in my room and listen to Nirvana...

In this 14 years I've learnt many things...I've lost and I've gained more than I was expected...And that makes me happy and satisfied....

But, I think, my roots are the same....

During these years of Searching for the President in Tehran, I have seen that freedom is the product of justice and can be sung only by knowledge...Although, it might be painful, but that's the only way to achieve freedom...Inside or outside, the rules are the same...

During these years, I wrote freedom on many walls...In Iran or in mine...I shout it in different inner and outer cells while I was in different part of the globe and I've seen how freedom can become cheaply ridiculous just like a loaf of bread...Just the survival, not the fittest...

It has been proved to me that if freedom is a right, you have to fight for it and if it is expensive you have no way but pay for it...

We are responsible animals but responsibility is just a personal choice...And this constant choosing/withdrawal struggle makes us to constantly lose something but gain something else...And I think that is the real origin of transformation regardless to its direction....

But roots remain unchanged.

He is like always, with tight jeans, lose T-shirt and dirty Converse... He is still studying while the dead man is singing...

Yasha is calling me...I think, regardless how personal it is, I should tell him that I've completed Searching for the President in Tehran through surprisingly quick spirtual simulation...As a true freedom fighter (although, not in my way) he is gonna be happy....

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