We are at a dinner party in suburban Perth, a home away from home for our diaspora. As guests arrive, a Persian ballad plays in the background: Morq-e Sahar (Dawn Bird), a freedom song, a century-old protest against dictatorships and tyranny in Iran. This version was sung by the late Mohammad-Reza Shajarian, Iran’s most decorated maestro.
Dawn bird, lament!
Make my brand burn even more.
With the sparks from your sigh, break
And turn this cage upside down.
Shajarian’s virtuoso voice frames an old question. One I’ve heard, it seems, at every Iranian gathering since my childhood. It hangs in the air like a cloud, unanswered, as guests greet each other with customary bowing and rooboosi (cheek kissing). We settle around a table laden with âjil (trail mix), fruit and wine, the smell of saffron rice and ghorme sabzi (herb stew) all around.
