Will You Dance With Me?

Mohammad Reza Mortazavi, an accomplished Tombak player, leads Dast Afshan group of young Iranian percussionists in a performance in Tehran.

First a story for you...

Saeed was our neighborhood's bad boy. The one all the girls really liked, because he was handsome, a little older than the rest of us, drove fast cars, and appeared so mature and indifferent to all the girls. He was also my friend, confiding in me and telling me stories about the girls' attempts to get close to him. Saeed loved a girl on our street who wasn't giving him the time a day, so he wasn't paying attention to the other girls. One of the girls, Ramona, a classmate of mine at Kharazmi High School who lived a few blocks away from our street, was obsessed with Saeed and really wanted to get close to him. She had found his phone number and kept calling him at all hours, never telling him her name or showing herself, but just talking to him. Saeed was overwhelmed by this girl's calls, but didn't know how to stop her from calling his house. He had offered to see her in person to talk to her, but she refused. One day Saeed received a call from Ramona. As they were talking, he heard traffic noises in the background, so he knew she was calling from a pay phone. They talked and Saeed listened some more, until he heard the sound of Azan, loud and clear, broadcast from a mosque obviously nearby. Our neighborhood had only two mosques, so Saeed figured this girl was in a phone booth near one of the two mosques. He told her someone was at the door and asked her if she wouldn't mind holding for a few minutes for him to go and see to the visitor. She agreed. Saeed got behind his car and drove very fast to the mosque closest to our home. He could see a girl in the phone booth just outside the mosque. He parked the car and got out and knocked on the glass door of the booth. Ramona turned around and saw him. She fainted. The calls stopped. The End.*

It's Friday. I am ending a happy week. I hope it has been the same for you. I am going to relax and enjoy my weekend. It is quite possible that my sons will join me and my friends to go dancing tomorrow night! How cool is that?! If it happens, I will let you know all about it. I hope your weekend is filled with the joy of dance steps with those you love and hold dear. The best things in life are free and yours just for the asking. Ask someone to dance with you. You don't have to be in a ballroom or at a party. A room with two people in it would suffice. When you step to the dance floor, dance with all your heart, and pour all your stress out of you! Hold hands and gazes while you dance, and there you have it, a dance full of love and life. Do it! Have a good weekend you all.
*Not quite the end. Saeed married Fariba, the girl three doors down who wouldn't give him the time a day! They have two grown children and live in Sweden. I saw them last Christmas and this was one of the hundreds of memories we reminisced about. Their entire family are excellent dancers! Last I heard of Ramona, she lived in the UK.


Anonymous said...

OMG! That has to be one of the funniest stories. She should have covered her tracks and gone to a payphone farther away from his house...Boys are suddenly so sharp and clear-headed when they want to know something. Wish they were like that all the time!!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy dancing with your friends and the lovely boys!! How was orientation!?

Love you Nazy Joonam! Kiss kiss!!

مسعود said...

آمد بهار جان‌ها ای شاخ تر به رقص آ/ چون یوسف اندرآمد مصر و شکر به رقص آ
ای شاه عشق پرور مانند شیر مادر/ ای شیرجوش دررو جان پدر به رقص آ
چوگان زلف دیدی چون گوی دررسیدی/ از پا و سر بریدی بی‌پا و سر به رقص آ
تیغی به دست خونی آمد مرا که چونی/ گفتم بیا که خیر است گفتا نه شر به رقص آ
از عشق تاجداران در چرخ او چو باران/ آن جا قبا چه باشد ای خوش کمر به رقص آ
ای مست هست گشته بر تو فنا نبشته/ رقعه فنا رسیده بهر سفر به رقص آ
در دست جام باده آمد بتم پیاده/ گر نیستی تو ماده زان شاه نر به رقص آ
پایان جنگ آمد آواز چنگ آمد/ یوسف ز چاه آمد ای بی‌هنر به رقص آ
تا چند وعده باشد وین سر به سجده باشد/ هجرم ببرده باشد دنگ و اثر به رقص آ
کی باشد آن زمانی گوید مرا فلانی/ کای بی‌خبر فنا شو ای باخبر به رقص آ
طاووس ما درآید وان رنگ‌ها برآید/ با مرغ جان سراید بی‌بال و پر به رقص آ
کور و کران عالم دید از مسیح مرهم/ گفته مسیح مریم کای کور و کر به رقص آ
مخدوم شمس دین است تبریز رشک چین است/ اندر بهار حسنش شاخ و شجر به رقص آ

Unknown said...

Dancing !!!!
وای نازی عزیز چند روز پیش تولد شبیر بود !!!!
و همه جمع شدیم و کلی زدیم و رقصیدیم !!!!
اتفاقا من هم تازه تازه دارم رقصیدن یاد می گیرم !!!!
این نوشتت من رو یاد اون ساعات خوش انداخت ...
شاد باشی عزیزم

Anonymous said...

hi there...u always have some new story to tell...

Anonymous said...

Actually your name could be Shahrzad (the storyteller!) :D
It was nice story and it is even nicer that you know where those guys are now!
And by the way I don't know what does Farshad talking about :-"
Shad ziid

Bioland said...

You know, what your story reminisce me is those days when it rained cats and dogs and I did my best but my best wasn`t good enough…!
“I love you, you love another guy and the guy may fall in love with me. Finally loneliness is what we`ve shared together”

Daisy said...

Nazy jon salam, send you this link and I hope you enjoy it:
Save The Last Dance For Me
At http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VY60CkP1qAc&feature=related

Michael Bublé is one of my favorite singers and I often listen to him.
p.s. I loved the story