Monday, November 9, 2009

Jome Bazar

Friday flea market in Tehran
We are creatures of our habits ever since I moved to Berkeley on Saturday s I'd found myself at Ashby BART station flea market. Especially in lonelier times when most friends had moved from Berkeley and forever friendships were broken up by realities of life, moving for jobs back East or simply basis for friendships change most important of all people change.
I'd spend an hour or so getting basic necessities and at times quite unnecessary watches, fountain pens, nice bottles or cheap art works or music and later on fascination with older books first editions or simply interesting books.
Years have passed I finally have made my way back home I go to a Friday market in Tehran in one of the oldest parts of this mega city. Once this area was hub nub of elite, intellectuals, government and technocrats few theaters and hotels. Further up the street Housing embassies of major powers. Laleh Zar Used to have a Great shopping district which provided latest fashion, great restaurants and café's. Now especially after February insurrection of 1979 it has definitely lost its lure like most of this once vibrant live city.
I come here once a month covering my loneliness and in a way am trying to reconnect to the past I left behind once February insurrection happened to us like a horrible accident a horrifying explosion of sort which threw us all over the world separated and disconnected, even here when in epicenter of the devastating event.
Last time I was there I found this toy fire truck similar to which my mother had bought me when I was eight or nine years old. I guess others come here for the same reason as me searching for the past they've lost. We search for the lost years the lost people the burnt years the burnt people we all have them.
The burnt years of our lives are silenced in high pitch sound of sellers and haggling of customers. We've all lost precious moments and people in our lives, we come here to silence the disturbing sound outside, quietly we lament our lost unattainable past.

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