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Kandovan is an ancient village tucked away in the northwest corner of Iran at the foothills of Mount Sahand and near the city of Tabriz. What makes the village so unique is that its homes have been carved inside cone shaped rocks. The original substance for these unusual cone formations consisted of volcanic ash and debris from an eruption of Mount Sahand in the distant past. It was subsequently compressed and shaped into cone towers by natural elements over thousands of years. This hardened material is strong enough to function as the walls and floors of a house, whilst also providing efficient insulation against the harsh cold of the long winter as well as the summer heat.

Legend has it that Kandovan’s first inhabitants moved there in the 13th century to escape from the invading Mongol army. They dug hideouts in the volcanic rocks but eventually decided to settle in these caves which they gradually developed and transformed into multi-storey, permanent houses. Since then, many generations of their descendants have continued living in the same houses.

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The attractions of Kandovan, however, are not restricted to its unusual cave dwellings. It is located in a green and scenic valley where wild plants and particularly natural spring waters are reputed to have healing properties. The spring waters which are traditionally used to cure kidney problems draw many people from surrounding towns and beyond to this area. The combination of Kandovan’s natural landscape and resources, and above all the unique way in which its inhabitants have adapted to the environment, has made it a popular destination for visitors.

In this multimedia report, we are taken on a guided tour of the extraordinary cave dwellings of this unique village, perhaps the only one of its kind in the world.
Source: jadidonline.com

Niavaran, in the northern part of Tehran, is one of the most affluent and expensive districts of the city. Passing by some of its modern tall buildings with their luxury apartments and ostentatious facades, it is difficult to imagine that it was just a small village until about a century ago. Yet, a closer examination reveals winding leafy backstreets leading to some other remnants of its past, such as crumbling old houses, traditional bakeries, or a public bath.

The documentary film maker, Hadi Afarideh, stumbled upon these when one day he accidentally lost his way in the area. This incident sparked off his interest in the history of Niavaran, and particularly its complex of palaces built during the Qajar and Pahlavi periods in a vast garden of eleven hectares. Situated in the foothills of the Alborz mountains, north of the then much smaller Tehran, Niavaran had a cooler climate compared to the rest of the city. This made it a favourite location for the Qajar rulers to choose as their summer retreat.



Later, during the reign of the last Shah, all the buildings, with the exception of the Sahebqaraniyeh Palace and the Ahmad Shahi Pavilion from the Qajar period, were demolished. They were replaced by a modern palace and several other buildings, which together with the two existing palaces constitute the present-day Niavaran Palace complex. These were all occupied by the revolutionary forces after the Islamic Revolution, and gradually opened to the public many years later.

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After extensive and painstaking research into various archives, interviewing several people and encountering many obstacles on the way, Hadi Afarideh finally succeeded in completing his documentary on the fascinating history of Niavaran and its palaces. In this multimedia report, he takes us on a nostalgic journey to this old village.
Source: jadidonline.com

Hushang Ebtehaj (هوشنگ ابتهاج), with the pen name of H. E. Sayeh (ه‍. ا. سایه, or H. A. Sayeh, lit. Shade) is an eminent Iranian poet of the 20th century, whose life and work spans many of Iran’s political, cultural and literary upheavals.

ارغوان
شاخه همخون جدا مانده من
آسمان تو چه رنگ است امروز؟
آفتابی است هوا؟
یا گرفته است هنوز؟

من درین گوشه که از دنیا بیرون است،
آسمانی به سرم نیست،
از بهاران خبرم نیست،
آنچه می بینم دیوار است
آه، این سخت سیاه
آن چنان نزدیک است
که چو بر می کشم از سینه نفس
نفسم را بر می گرداند
ره چنان بسته که پرواز نگه
در همین یک قدمی می‌ماند
کورسویی ز چراغی رنجور
قصه پرداز شب ظلمانی است
نفسم می گیرد
که هوا هم اینجا زندانی است

هرچه با من اینجاست
رنگ رخ باخته است
آفتابی هرگز
گوشه چشمی هم
بر فراموشی این دخمه نینداخته است
اندر این گوشه خاموش فراموش شده،
کز دم سردش هر شمعی خاموش شده،
یاد رنگینی در خاطر من گریه می‌انگیزد
ارغوانم آنجاست
ارغوانم تنهاست
ارغوانم دارد می گرید
چون دل من که چنین خون آلود
هر دم از دیده فرو می ریزد

ارغوان
این چه رازی است که هر بار بهار
با عزای دل ما می آید؟
که زمین هر سال از خون پرستوها رنگین است؟
وین چنین بر جگر سوختگان
داغ بر داغ می‌افزاید

ارغوان
پنجه خونین زمین
دامن صبح بگیر
وز سواران خرامنده خورشید بپرس
کی برین دره غم می‌گذرند؟

ارغوان
خوشه خون
بامدادان که کبوترها
برلب پنجره باز سحر غلغه می‌آغازند،
جام گلرنگ مرا
بر سر دست بگیر،
به تماشاگه پرواز ببر
آه بشتاب که هم پروازان
نگران غم هم پروازند

ارغوان
بیرق گلگون بهار
تو بر افراشته باش
شعر خونبار منی
یاد رنگین رفیقانم را
بر زبان داشته باش
تو بخوان نغمه ناخوانده من

ارغوان،
شاخه همخون جدا مانده من
هوشنگ ابتهاج

ه. ا. سایه
فروردین ۱۳۶۳