The Islamic Republic
The Islamic Republic of Iran
Ever since I can remember I have wanted to go to Iran, yet contrary to popular belief this desire did not begin when my visa application was rejected by the authorities in Tehran, but rather with childhood stories from the Sikh Holy Scriptures. Our Guru’s travelled Iran, some of our scriptures have come from Persian Sufi Saints, and many of our Shabads (hymns) are in Farsi or include lots of Farsi. It felt as though we were brothers, and all the Iranians I have had the fortune to meet became very good friends. An Iranian brother I always carry with me, I had met ten years ago whilst studying in Australia. I had always hoped to visit Iran with Nima, and then when I was living right next door in the UAE, and eager to go, I learned that it was not so easy for him to visit either.
In many ways the Persian Gulf seems like the exact opposite of the Arab Gulf, and this difference is witnessed as soon as you try to visit the countries. The UAE is easy to visit, because you do not need a visa and everyone is welcome (admittedly things are a little different with Saudi), but once in the country the local population are actually rather closed. Acquaintances are easy, but friendships, such that you are always in touch, at each other’s houses, and in each others lives is a little more difficult. However, in Iran’s case, it is the Government that closes the country making visits difficult, whereas the local population is easily one of the most open, friendly and hospitable ever experienced in the world. The country is not only closed to foreigners, but even to Iranians living abroad. The aforementioned Nima, who lives in Vancouver, cannot go to his home country, because like all young Iranian men he is obliged to serve in the Iranian military for two years, and if he were to go back to Iran he would either have to stay to serve or pay a lot of money to buy himself out. My visa application was rejected – because I hold a British Passport. Stood at the Iranian Visa office, in the UAE, with my head covered, looking all subdued, I was told I will get what I deserve which is what the British give the Iranian applicants. I didn’t say a word, though puzzled because there is a thriving Iranian community in the UK. So, I just applied again, as an engineer this time, under the supervision of an Iranian friend’s construction company. This worked.
Why is it so difficult? Does the Iranian Government not want visitors? Does the Iranian Government not want non residential Iranians to visit? Does the Iranian Government not want young, idealistic, educated, young men to come back? You got it. No. I learned, slowly, slowly, that though Iran is a world away from the images we are fed through the media, the Government would rather keep up appearances, and do whatever they want in their own country, without frequent outside scrutiny. ‘They can say whatever they make believe’ type attitude, hence we in the media, use the same old B-rolls of outdated footage, again and again, about the same, stuck, nuclear weapons story. Accurate information is not easy to obtain, and so the stories continue.
So I had no idea what to expect upon entry in Tehran, all I was told before hand was to buy a long coat and to take a few scarves, and that I would wear these items all the time when in public, and in potential view of the police. Despite having searched the Abu Dhabi malls until 10.30pm the night before and being all covered in the longest coat I could find, within half an hour of being in Tehran, I was ‘warned’ by the police because my above knee coat was too short. Sunday evening, entering one of a beautiful feature filled gardens called Bagh Mouseh Honar-e Iran (Iranian Art Museum Garden), was my first interaction with Iranian police, and thereafter I never wore that ‘short’ coat again. The warning was sincere and strong, and suddenly I understood why the girls didn’t wear knee high boots when asked not to, and why the youth don’t play card games, and why no one speaks about the regime in public.
I could talk about my experience in Iran endlessly, because it was so rich and varied in culture, language and its people, but in order to keep this letter a digestible length I will just share a few stories.
The Islamic Republic of Iran may sound like a strict title for a country and faith, but actually this is the only formal Shi’a country in the world, and I witnessed more ‘spirituality’ than formal religion. Although Mullahs (the Islamic Clergy) rule the country and are everywhere (I attended a public gathering in Yazd at which Mullahs were preaching to the city about rights and wrongs), the average Iranian did not seem to be following orthodox rules. Few prayed five times a day, even fewer visited working Mosques, and you can have a glass of Shiraz in Shiraz. Yet, this is not to say that people are not in his remembrance - constantly, but just not in the way that the Mullah’s would like. I understood why when I was invited into the Mosque of Mirrors in Shiraz. Unlike the other Mosques I visited, which were so stunningly beautiful but not operational, this mosque was magnificent and in use. It was small and as I began to take off my shoes a little man out of no where threw a sheet over me. I am serious, a bed-sheet. It wasn’t a purdha, burka or abbaya and shayla, I am familiar with those, but a bed sheet, without holes for the arms or head; you were just meant to wrap your whole body up and hold it. Now I understood what all those women, walking around Iran covered with a big, fat, black sheet felt like. It is just as unmanageable as it looks – hard to walk, turn your head or move properly. This ‘chaadar’ looked as though it had been washed a million times, and so whilst I was in the Mosque another kind gentleman came up to cover me with a newer one. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and quickly took my leave.
More spiritual encounters occurred away from the beautiful mosques and in peoples’ homes. I was invited to a Sufi worship in Kurdistan with some friends, where people were praising, worshiping and connecting with Allah through music, song and dance. Women and men were in separate rooms/ halls and the same music and the same energy it seemed flowed through them both. In no time at all, both sets were in rhythmical trances – without consciousness they seemed to have entered another realm. At times it was moving and at other times incomprehensible and even shocking, but the hospitality always remained the same – people were loving and looked after all their guests as if each were an image of God his/ herself.
Generally homes are the only place people can be themselves and practice in the way they want to. Saying that, there are all forms of active mosques, churches and temples, and even Gurdwaras from the Guru’s time, standing tall and alive. I found spiritual practice, thoughts and talk to be a commonality amongst all. Perhaps this is because the authorities are so far removed from such practice that people hold it close. Or perhaps because the country and traditions are full of spiritual philosophy, Ostad Elahi’s memorial for example, is visited continuously for an exchange of love and wisdom. Or as I was told, connection is the purpose of life since Zoroastrian times in the C5th. Rather than Eid, Iranians all still celebrate the Zoroastrian New Year at the beginning of spring called Norooz. Believing in active participation in life through idea of good thoughts, good words, good deeds – Zoroastrianism has perhaps had more direct influence on mankind than any other faith.
Either way, I felt at peace, and seeing the Sikh spiritual sign everywhere – even on the Iranian flag, helped. Persian’s say that they use the Sikh Khanda because it spells Allah, but perhaps this is just a c
ontinuation of all the other things that they have used/ borrowed/ taken from India. During a mind boggling tour of the National Jewellery Museum I was told smugly that 90% of the treasury’s wealth was taken from Punjab in repeated battles, and most recently and gleefully by Nadir Shah in 17th century. I was then given a guided tour of the Koh-i-noor which was apparently gifted by the Sikh Army, to the Iranian Royals – I had a hard time imagining the scene. The Sikh Symbol here, known as the Khanda, looks just like Iran’s Symbol with a squiggle on top (see above;)
Ever since I can remember I have wanted to go to Iran, yet contrary to popular belief this desire did not begin when my visa application was rejected by the authorities in Tehran, but rather with childhood stories from the Sikh Holy Scriptures. Our Guru’s travelled Iran, some of our scriptures have come from Persian Sufi Saints, and many of our Shabads (hymns) are in Farsi or include lots of Farsi. It felt as though we were brothers, and all the Iranians I have had the fortune to meet became very good friends. An Iranian brother I always carry with me, I had met ten years ago whilst studying in Australia. I had always hoped to visit Iran with Nima, and then when I was living right next door in the UAE, and eager to go, I learned that it was not so easy for him to visit either.
In many ways the Persian Gulf seems like the exact opposite of the Arab Gulf, and this difference is witnessed as soon as you try to visit the countries. The UAE is easy to visit, because you do not need a visa and everyone is welcome (admittedly things are a little different with Saudi), but once in the country the local population are actually rather closed. Acquaintances are easy, but friendships, such that you are always in touch, at each other’s houses, and in each others lives is a little more difficult. However, in Iran’s case, it is the Government that closes the country making visits difficult, whereas the local population is easily one of the most open, friendly and hospitable ever experienced in the world. The country is not only closed to foreigners, but even to Iranians living abroad. The aforementioned Nima, who lives in Vancouver, cannot go to his home country, because like all young Iranian men he is obliged to serve in the Iranian military for two years, and if he were to go back to Iran he would either have to stay to serve or pay a lot of money to buy himself out. My visa application was rejected – because I hold a British Passport. Stood at the Iranian Visa office, in the UAE, with my head covered, looking all subdued, I was told I will get what I deserve which is what the British give the Iranian applicants. I didn’t say a word, though puzzled because there is a thriving Iranian community in the UK. So, I just applied again, as an engineer this time, under the supervision of an Iranian friend’s construction company. This worked.
Why is it so difficult? Does the Iranian Government not want visitors? Does the Iranian Government not want non residential Iranians to visit? Does the Iranian Government not want young, idealistic, educated, young men to come back? You got it. No. I learned, slowly, slowly, that though Iran is a world away from the images we are fed through the media, the Government would rather keep up appearances, and do whatever they want in their own country, without frequent outside scrutiny. ‘They can say whatever they make believe’ type attitude, hence we in the media, use the same old B-rolls of outdated footage, again and again, about the same, stuck, nuclear weapons story. Accurate information is not easy to obtain, and so the stories continue.
So I had no idea what to expect upon entry in Tehran, all I was told before hand was to buy a long coat and to take a few scarves, and that I would wear these items all the time when in public, and in potential view of the police. Despite having searched the Abu Dhabi malls until 10.30pm the night before and being all covered in the longest coat I could find, within half an hour of being in Tehran, I was ‘warned’ by the police because my above knee coat was too short. Sunday evening, entering one of a beautiful feature filled gardens called Bagh Mouseh Honar-e Iran (Iranian Art Museum Garden), was my first interaction with Iranian police, and thereafter I never wore that ‘short’ coat again. The warning was sincere and strong, and suddenly I understood why the girls didn’t wear knee high boots when asked not to, and why the youth don’t play card games, and why no one speaks about the regime in public.
I could talk about my experience in Iran endlessly, because it was so rich and varied in culture, language and its people, but in order to keep this letter a digestible length I will just share a few stories.
The Islamic Republic of Iran may sound like a strict title for a country and faith, but actually this is the only formal Shi’a country in the world, and I witnessed more ‘spirituality’ than formal religion. Although Mullahs (the Islamic Clergy) rule the country and are everywhere (I attended a public gathering in Yazd at which Mullahs were preaching to the city about rights and wrongs), the average Iranian did not seem to be following orthodox rules. Few prayed five times a day, even fewer visited working Mosques, and you can have a glass of Shiraz in Shiraz. Yet, this is not to say that people are not in his remembrance - constantly, but just not in the way that the Mullah’s would like. I understood why when I was invited into the Mosque of Mirrors in Shiraz. Unlike the other Mosques I visited, which were so stunningly beautiful but not operational, this mosque was magnificent and in use. It was small and as I began to take off my shoes a little man out of no where threw a sheet over me. I am serious, a bed-sheet. It wasn’t a purdha, burka or abbaya and shayla, I am familiar with those, but a bed sheet, without holes for the arms or head; you were just meant to wrap your whole body up and hold it. Now I understood what all those women, walking around Iran covered with a big, fat, black sheet felt like. It is just as unmanageable as it looks – hard to walk, turn your head or move properly. This ‘chaadar’ looked as though it had been washed a million times, and so whilst I was in the Mosque another kind gentleman came up to cover me with a newer one. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and quickly took my leave.
More spiritual encounters occurred away from the beautiful mosques and in peoples’ homes. I was invited to a Sufi worship in Kurdistan with some friends, where people were praising, worshiping and connecting with Allah through music, song and dance. Women and men were in separate rooms/ halls and the same music and the same energy it seemed flowed through them both. In no time at all, both sets were in rhythmical trances – without consciousness they seemed to have entered another realm. At times it was moving and at other times incomprehensible and even shocking, but the hospitality always remained the same – people were loving and looked after all their guests as if each were an image of God his/ herself.
Generally homes are the only place people can be themselves and practice in the way they want to. Saying that, there are all forms of active mosques, churches and temples, and even Gurdwaras from the Guru’s time, standing tall and alive. I found spiritual practice, thoughts and talk to be a commonality amongst all. Perhaps this is because the authorities are so far removed from such practice that people hold it close. Or perhaps because the country and traditions are full of spiritual philosophy, Ostad Elahi’s memorial for example, is visited continuously for an exchange of love and wisdom. Or as I was told, connection is the purpose of life since Zoroastrian times in the C5th. Rather than Eid, Iranians all still celebrate the Zoroastrian New Year at the beginning of spring called Norooz. Believing in active participation in life through idea of good thoughts, good words, good deeds – Zoroastrianism has perhaps had more direct influence on mankind than any other faith.
Either way, I felt at peace, and seeing the Sikh spiritual sign everywhere – even on the Iranian flag, helped. Persian’s say that they use the Sikh Khanda because it spells Allah, but perhaps this is just a c
ontinuation of all the other things that they have used/ borrowed/ taken from India. During a mind boggling tour of the National Jewellery Museum I was told smugly that 90% of the treasury’s wealth was taken from Punjab in repeated battles, and most recently and gleefully by Nadir Shah in 17th century. I was then given a guided tour of the Koh-i-noor which was apparently gifted by the Sikh Army, to the Iranian Royals – I had a hard time imagining the scene. The Sikh Symbol here, known as the Khanda, looks just like Iran’s Symbol with a squiggle on top (see above;) Still, I guess the fact that I could understand about every fourth Farsi word, that I look Persian, and can connect with my brothers and sisters so easily counts for something:)
Forgiveness was made easier by the overwhelming taro goodness that was shown to me. Perhaps it is because the country has been kept closed that there is a real keen interest in foreigners, to the extent that one day, whilst randomly walking through a small Kurd town called Sanchez we were stopped by a lady who had clearly ran out of her kitchen (her apron was still steaming!) and insisted that we join her for dinner! On another occasion, after admiring a sculpture of Mastoore Ardalan the most admired Kurdish historical lady I asked if the piece were for sale, not that I could carry it home. When the world-class sculptor finally stepped into the workshop to be asked, he said no, and then promptly walked over to me to gift me the piece instead! Seriously!
Material matters are easy in Iran, in comparison to marriage! I was surrounded , , matters are not so easy when it comes to proposing to a lady or visa versa.
The historical and modern beauty in Iran is so overwhelming that your eyes begin to hurt from an overload of the magnificent impressions on your eyeballs every few moments. I would suggest taking your time in exploring one of the oldest continuous major civilisations in the world, with remains from over 4000BC. Once a world Superpower, Greater Iran included the modern nations of Afghanistan, Pakistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan and parts of Turkey and Iraq, and this is history remains close through the sites, stories and arts. Visiting the memorials of the poets such as Hafez and Sa’di in Shiraz, the gardens, rivers and palaces in Esfahan, the temples and Gods at Pasargad, and Kingdoms at Persepolis, and then travelling from Kurdistan to Baluchestan, seeing all the variety in between – I just cannot do justice to it all in words.
There are many reasons not to visit, and the Government can give you more. Persians themselves are tired and another revolution or even gradual change in the political regime will take time. The Mullah’s have a tight grip of the country and other Iranian’s are still leaving in droves. Opportunities if you are not connected are scarce, corruption is rife, and freedom is severely limited. Whilst I was there our neighbour immigrated with his parents, and his betrayed goodbye was gratified on his bedroom wall - ‘G’bye forever oh unfaithful nation’.
Yet, all I can say is that if you haven’t already, it is worth a visit, and then another. Behind closed doors, there is perhaps more action, philosophising, art, creativity and business than ever before. The birth of a new generation has bought hope back to the souls of the inhabitants of this nation of historical survivors.
Forgiveness was made easier by the overwhelming taro goodness that was shown to me. Perhaps it is because the country has been kept closed that there is a real keen interest in foreigners, to the extent that one day, whilst randomly walking through a small Kurd town called Sanchez we were stopped by a lady who had clearly ran out of her kitchen (her apron was still steaming!) and insisted that we join her for dinner! On another occasion, after admiring a sculpture of Mastoore Ardalan the most admired Kurdish historical lady I asked if the piece were for sale, not that I could carry it home. When the world-class sculptor finally stepped into the workshop to be asked, he said no, and then promptly walked over to me to gift me the piece instead! Seriously!
Material matters are easy in Iran, in comparison to marriage! I was surrounded , , matters are not so easy when it comes to proposing to a lady or visa versa.
The historical and modern beauty in Iran is so overwhelming that your eyes begin to hurt from an overload of the magnificent impressions on your eyeballs every few moments. I would suggest taking your time in exploring one of the oldest continuous major civilisations in the world, with remains from over 4000BC. Once a world Superpower, Greater Iran included the modern nations of Afghanistan, Pakistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan and parts of Turkey and Iraq, and this is history remains close through the sites, stories and arts. Visiting the memorials of the poets such as Hafez and Sa’di in Shiraz, the gardens, rivers and palaces in Esfahan, the temples and Gods at Pasargad, and Kingdoms at Persepolis, and then travelling from Kurdistan to Baluchestan, seeing all the variety in between – I just cannot do justice to it all in words.
There are many reasons not to visit, and the Government can give you more. Persians themselves are tired and another revolution or even gradual change in the political regime will take time. The Mullah’s have a tight grip of the country and other Iranian’s are still leaving in droves. Opportunities if you are not connected are scarce, corruption is rife, and freedom is severely limited. Whilst I was there our neighbour immigrated with his parents, and his betrayed goodbye was gratified on his bedroom wall - ‘G’bye forever oh unfaithful nation’.
Yet, all I can say is that if you haven’t already, it is worth a visit, and then another. Behind closed doors, there is perhaps more action, philosophising, art, creativity and business than ever before. The birth of a new generation has bought hope back to the souls of the inhabitants of this nation of historical survivors.
posted by Mandeep Rai at 8:39 AM
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