(Oration delivered on 1.1.2012)

I am extremly privileged to deliver this Oration on the 122nd Birth Anniversary of Alhaj Dr.T.B.Jayah on the invitation of the Conference of Sri Lankan Malays, whose President Alhaj.T.A.Azoor has devoted much of his energy and time in fostering the concept of Bersatu (unity) Keikhalasan (sincerity) and Pengorbanan (sacrifice), and also in perpetuating the memory of that great National hero the late Dr.T.B.Jayah.

Dr.Jayah devoted his entire life for his community and the Nation in the struggle for obtaining Independence to Ceylon, to forge National Unity and communal harmony among all citizens, to develop the educational standard of the whole country by whole heartedly supporting the policy making and implementation of the Reforms enunciated by the Board of Education of the State Council under the leadership of the Father of Free Education, Dr. C.W.W.Kannangara, and particularly to improve the overall standard of the Muslim community by providing political leadership, educational direction and the path for social regeneration.

 Very early in life he had remarked that one should be “prepared to scorn delights and live laborious days not for the sake of filthy lucre, not even for mere vanity of name and fame, but for greater ideals of service.” This, he fulfilled positively and in full measure, was evident in an expression of gratitude by Dr.A.M.A.Azeez, whom Jayah had personally chosen to succeed him as Principal of Zahira College, Colombo to continue his services of twenty seven years in taking Zahira to the zenith as the ‘radiating centre of Islamic thought and activity.’

In a speech delivered in 1914 at the Ceylon Muslim Association on the topic of ‘Education and National Progress’, seven years before he became the Principal of Zahira, Jayah said that “it was only by the revivifying influence of English education that the Muslim community would be brought to a position of intellectual elevation, social efficiency and political power….To achieve this end, who is to be the Sir.Seyed Ahamed Khan of Ceylon? Who among our leaders will follow in the wake of that renowned Indian leader? He need not necessarily be a child of Western culture, for Sir.Seyed Ahamed was not. But he must certainly be fearless in his actions, disinterested in his motive, inspired by a mighty purpose and ready to dare and even die in the cause he espouses. If such a one there be, he will doubtless go down to posterity as the savior of the Muslims of Ceylon.”

This question was answered after 36 years in 1950 by A.M.A.Azeez in the following words: “Mr.Jayah posed this question in 1914 and today in 1950 we say without any hesitation and with one accord that the Hon.T.B.Jayah is that Sir.Seyed Ahamed Khan and that leader and that Saviour of the Muslims.”

Early  life

Tuan Brahanudeen Jayah, the great educationist, community and national leader, Statesman , Patron, President and Chairman of 55 organisations  was born on  1st January, 1890 at Galagedara, where his father, Cassim Jayah, was employed in the Police Department. Owing to the transfer of Cassim Jayah, the family shifted residence to Kurunagala, where the young Brahanudeen started his Quranic Education under the tutelage of Noordeen Alim and Omarlebbe and the secular schooling at the Anglo-Vernacular School. Once again on the transfer of the father, the family moved to Colombo and Brahanudeen was enrolled at the St.Paul’s College, Modera in Grade 1 at the age of 10. It would be curious today to see a boy of ten years in Grade 1, but was common occurance in that era. The young student was found to be so brilliant that he was awarded a treble promotion from Grade 1 to Grade 4 and once again a double promotion to Grade 6 in the following year. In1904, he obtained a scholarship to St. Thomas’ College, situated then at Modera.

Having passed the Matriculation and Inter Arts Examinations, he obtained a teaching job at Dharmaraja College, Kandy in January 1910, then shifted to Prince of Wales College, Moratuwa in May 1910 and thereafter to Ananda  College, Colombo in 1917, where he remained till he assumed duties as Principal of Zahira College, Colombo on 1st September 1921.

Though he embarked on a teaching career at an early age due to the financial constraints he encountered in proceeding with higher education, yet while being a teacher, he continued his academic pursuit and became a graduate. He subsequently enrolled himself at the Law College with the intention of becoming a lawyer; but his conviction that he could serve the community in a better way by continuing as an educator persuaded him to remain in the teaching profession.

In a lecture delivered to the Ceylon Muslim Association in February 1919, he posed the question  “What have we done? The other communities have produced eminent men in different walks of life. They have produced eminent lawyers and doctors, eminent councilors, men of eminence in other ways. What have the Muslims? Have we any eminent men in the service of the Government or in learned professions? Have we even a few schools and colleges of our own? Have we sent largely our children even to non-Muslim schools? The answer is an emphatic ‘NO’…..My humble suggestion to the Mohammedan leaders is that, if they cannot start both colleges and elementary schools for the Mohammedans, let them at least give us one Mohamedan College, because that Mohamedan College might form a centre which might send out a noble band of heroes who might rejuvenate the nation. The supreme need of the hour is education, not merely elementary education, not mere half-hearted education, but an education that will turn out heroes and heroines, leaders and reformers, thinkers  and philosophers, an education that will make us a progressive, enlightened and powerful minority.” These are prophetic words indeed.

Zahira blossoms

In his twenty seven years of stewardship at Zahira until 22nd  August, 1948, he successfully produced the leaders and reformers, thinkers and philosophers, and Legislators and national figures, who brought forth an enlightened Muslim community, which in course of time was able to contribute to the political, social, economic and cultural development at the national level.

Zahira evolved as a symbol of unity and social integration .Perhaps his early experience at Dharmaraja, Prince of Wales and Ananda gave him a broader outlook in his vision .In fact, three of his students at Ananda, who in later life emerged as pioneer Leftist leaders, namely Dr.N.M.Perera, Philip Gunewardena and Robert Gunewardena always referred to Jayah with utmost respect as their mentor and guide during their student days.

In the same manner, Zahira had teachers, students and employees from all the communities. His Vice-Principals were George Weeramantry, who came from Ananda and Mr.Wijeratne; when he opened the Commerce Stream, the person he chose to head the Section was J.A.Charles; some of the prominent teachers were Rauff Pasha from India, Moulavi Haniff Nadvi, Pandit Nallathamby who translated the Ceylon National Anthem into Tamil, Navaliyoor S. Nadarajan, a famous poet, N.P.Pillai, Mrs.Pillai, Ms.E.Dissanayake and a host of others.

The tradition of this cosmopolitanism continued and during the Principalship of Azeez, almost half of the more than one hundred students who entered the University – indeed one hundred was a very large number at that time – were non Muslims. We still find even today the strong foundations laid by Jayah for communal amity persisting at Zahira.

This enormous achievement took quarter of a century of labour and dedication by a man of utter sincerity, whose heart and mouth spoke the same language and with the unstinted support of the Maradana Mosque Committee, who were the Managers of the College and an array of well-wishers.

The situation at Zahira at the beginning of his Principslship was described by him in the following words: “The outlook was dismal – six teachers, fifty nine boys, hardly any furniture worth the name, with a building just enough for a primary school, used at night by loafers and other undesirables, with unattractive surroundings and about twenty or thirty yards from the buildings, thickets and shrubs regarded by the public as the rendezvous of the denizens of the underworld, relieved only by the majesty of the Maradana mosque.”

Undaunted, he accepted the challenge and undertook many development projects. Classes were started  upto matriculation, number of teachers increased from six to thirty, sports and athletics expanded, Literary associations formed which started the publication of the magazine ‘The Crescent’, opened a Hostel, Dental Clinic, Free Night School and a Canteen that provided a wholesome rice and curry lunch for ten cents. The Night School was perhaps the first of its kind in Ceylon.

He started the ‘College Extension Fund’ through which a large number of class rooms, Science Laboratory, and the Main Building of this Ghaffoor Hall where we are assembled today were constructed, the main benefactors being the Maradana Mosque Committee, N.D.H.Abdul Ghaffoor and Puthen Bootil Umbichy.

The indicator of the vast strides of development was the increase in the number of students from 59 in 1921 to 450 in 1922, to 645 in 1925, which within a few years exceeded 1000.

Every important dignitary visiting Ceylon was invited to address the students, teachers, parents and public at Zahira College. Sarojini Naidu, Moulana Saukat Ali, Jawaharlal Nehru, Mahathma Ghandi and Rajaji- all the top-level leaders of the Indian Freedom Movement made it an integral item in the programme to visit this citadel of education. The speech made by Jayah on the occasion of the visit of Mahatma Ghandhi on the efforts of Gandhi on Hindu-Muslim Unity in India was one of the finest speeches that demonstrated the attitude of Jayah on communal harmony, national unity and integration.

Political leadership

The concepts which were inherent in Jayah’s philosophy brought him naturally into the arena of politics, by his entry to the Legislative Council in 1924.

The system of Legislature was introduced by the British colonial rulers in Ceylon in 1833, through the Colebrooke Constitution. The Legislative Council consisted , besides the officials of the Government,  a very limited number of members representing the English, Burgher, Low Country Sinhala and Tamil communities. It was not considerd necessary to grant Kandyan Sinhalese and the Muslims (then termed Mohemadans) representstion.

Consequent to long agitations the Kandyan Sinhalese and the Mohamedan communities were given one representation each and the first Mohamedan nominated to the Legislative Council in 1889 was Mohamed Cassim Abdul Rahman, who was succeeded by A.L.M.Sheriff  in 1899; Wapitchi Marikar Abdul Rahman in1900 and N.H.M.Abdul Cader in 1917.

A very limited number of Ceylonese were granted voting rights at the beginning of the 20th Century to elect representatives  on the basis of Island-wide ‘communal electorates’ to the Legislative Council . Such election to a Mohemadan electorate was held for the first time in 1924, in which three members were elected to represent the Muslims obtaining the following number of votes:

            H.M.Macan Markar               10311 votes

            N.H.M.Abdul  Cader                 6705    “

            T.B.Jayah                                 5221    “

The other candidate, M.L.M.Riyal obtained 3629 votes. This heralded the entry of Jayah into the Legislature, where he continued to serve from 1924-1930; 1936-1947; 1947-1950   and a brief period in 1960. Instead of being a ceremonial member of the Legislature, he made ample use of every opportunity to serve the community and the nation , thus emerging as a community as well as a national leader at the time of British Imperialism in this country. He became an active participant in the struggle for Independence from 450 years of European domination.

M.T.Akbar in the Legislature

One other great personality from the Malay community, who sat along with Jayah in all the committees appointed by the Legislative Council for the recommendation of framing of Laws pertaining to the Muslims and whom we cannot fail to mention at this juncture was Justice Akbar. After a brilliant school career at Royal College, Colombo, where he carried away every possible prize, he proceeded to Cambridge University in the United Kingdom on the Government Scholarship having obtained the highest points in the selection for the scholarship to qualify as an engineer. He not only qualified as an Engineer, but also as a Barrister-at-Law.

 On his return to Ceylon, he joined the Government Legal Department and very soon was appointed as the Solicitor General and subsequently as a judge of the Supreme Court .He could have risen to be the  first Ceylonese Chief Justice, but suddenly and prematurely retired from the service. No one, including the Governor, could persuade him to reconsider his decision. He spent the remainder of his days in religious activities, living in Wekanda and distributing his monthly pensions to his relations, friends and the needy. It was said that “Akbar’s Pension day was the salary day of the others.’

By virtue of his position as Solicitor General, he became automatically a member of the Legislative and Executive Councils. Though a Government nominee to look after the  interests of the rulers, he utilized the opportunity to the maximum benefit to the Muslim community by being chairman or member of many committees, in which Jayah also actively contributed to the formulation, enactment and implementation of many legislations, such as the Muslim Property Laws, Wakf Act  and Muslim Marriage and Divorce Act. He was also Chairman of the Committee that recommended the replacement of the term ‘Mohamedan’ with the term ‘Muslim.’

Akbar was the Chairman of the Committee that finally decided the site for the establishment   of the Ceylon University.  The battle of the sites whether to establish the university at Peradeniya or Colombo was long-drawn, where a very powerful group preferred Colombo. However, the Committee finally decided on Peradeniya, one of the most scenic sites for a university in any part of the world.

But a point of regret is that the university authorities thought it fit to perpetuate the memories of many leaders of the university movement by naming the Halls of Residence with their names, but quarter of a century elapsed before the same authorities thought it fit to name a Hall with Akbar’s name, and that too only half of a hall was named , the other half being named as Nell Hall.

Movement for Freedom

The national consciousness for self-rule began to emerge  by the beginning of the 20th Century. The Ceylon Reform League founded in 1917 under the Chairmanship of Ponnambalam  Arunachalam came to an abrupt end being succeeded by the formation of the Ceylon National Congress, which continued to be the prime organization in demanding Independence to Ceylon.

The Muslims participated in the demand for freedom from British rule without any hesitation and in full strength through their organizations. The Moor Union was founded in1900 which blossomed into the All Ceylon Moors Association in 1922, of which in later years A.R.A.Razick (Sir.Razick Fareed) became the leader and made significant contribution to education and national independence.

1903 saw the birth of the Ceylon Muslim Association, which soon became the Young Muslim League under the chairmanship of Barrister Saheed A. Marikkar. In 1924 it assumed the name of All Ceylon Muslim League under the chairmanship of N.H.M.Abdul Cader, on whose death, Jayah was chosen as the President and remained so till 1950.

In articulating the Muslim point of view, Jayah balanced the national and community aspirations in such a manner that the Muslims became an integral part of the freedom movement, while preserving their community identity intact. This was evident as early as 1930s when is his capacity  as the leader of the Muslim Political Conference, he led a delegation to England and presented a Memorandum on “Muslims and Proposed Constitutional changes in Ceylon” to the British rulers. He steadfastly continued this policy of ‘country and community’ all throughout his political career. As stated by Dr. M.C.M.Kaleel, “He was sincere and dedicated in the cause of his country and community above all personal considerations. He valued freedom so dearly that he declared that no concept in political life was more precious than freedom.”

At the same time,Jayah had the courage to forewarn the members of the State Council, how a section of the membership was attempting to convert the struggle for reforms to a narrower and parochial approach. Speaking on the Governor Caldecott Reforms in 1937, in which Debate Jayah spoke for three hours; G.G.Ponnambalam for nine hours and forty five minutes; A.E.Goonesinghe for four hours and thirty minutes and Nadesan for nine hours, Jayah said that “ some of the politicians here particularly those who are puffed with power cannot understand the realities of the situation. They think that self-government for this country means self-government for themselves .The benefit of self-Government they think should accrue only to one community. When others say that the benefits of self-government should be diffused among all the people, they want to call such people all sorts of names. They cannot distinguish between what is proper and  what is improper, between what is legitimate and what is not legitimate, between what is good for the country and what is detrimental to the country”.

When finally the arrangement for granting Independence to Ceylon was being arranged and the State Council debating in November 1944 the Soulbury Report and the White Paper of the Government of the United Kingdom , Jayah  said that “I speak with the full support of members of the Muslim community of Ceylon. I saw to it that the Muslim community was consulted with representatives in different parts of the country on the important issue before the House; and I am in a position to say that the Muslim members of this Council have the fullest backing of the Muslim community of this Island. When the Muslim members of this Council decided to take a definite stand at the time the ‘Sri Lanka Bill’ was introduced, they did so for one and for one reason only. The reason was that where the political freedom of this country was involved, they were prepared to go to any length, even to the point of sacrificing advantages and benefits as a result of such action.”

Mr.S.W.R.D.Bandaranaike, then Leader of the House, speaking during the Debate, appreciated the definitive views expressed by Jayah. He said that “the hon. Nominated Member Mr.Jayah had made a speech today that will have a great effect in bringing about unity among the people of the country in bringing  some sense of reality to this struggle, however it may shape, that we are going to undertake to obtain a satisfactory measure of freedom. What have the Nominated Member Mr.Jayah and his colleagues Hon. Nominated Member Mr.Razick and the Member for Colombo Central Dr.Kaleel  done? There is provided in the Bill a scheme of representation under which the Muslim community more than any other community in this country might suffer in this form which it appears, but yet he himself was so sincerely determined to work for the main idea of freedom that he was prepared to vote for the principle embodied in the Bill.”

Such was the greatness of Jayah who was primarily an educationist, who advocated that the most important way for the community to advance economically, politically and socially was to upgrade the standard of education, specially English education among the Muslims. He not only made Zahira to blossom into one of the leading schools in Ceylon, but extended its wings to other parts of the country by opening Zahiras in Gampola, Matale, Puttalam, Alutgama and Wekanda. His hand-picked successor Azeez took Zahira to its zenith, and another disciple Badiudin Mahmud whom he appointed as the Principal of Gampola Zahira, rendered yeoman service as a longest serving Minister of Education.

 Prime Minister D.S.Senanayake once referred to the prominent part played by Denominational schools specifically mentioning the role of Stone of St.Thomas’, Hartly of Royal, Highfield of Wesley and Jayah of Zahira. He further stated that “Ceylon’s securing of Dominion Status without civil strife or political turmoil was not a little due to the priceless lessons which young and old learnt at the feet of those successful school-masters and bridge builders.”

As a politician, he entered the Legislative Council of the Colonial Ceylon, continued to serve in the State Council and became the Minister of Labour and Social Services in the first Parliament of Independent Ceylon. During the many decades as a Legislator, he always espoused the cause of his community, but balancing it with the national interest. He was a Statesman, who was fittingly declared a National Hero.

Jayah was the first Ambassador of Ceylon to Pakistan, where he became so popular and prominent that the University of Punjab conferred  on him the title of Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) on 22nd December, 1951. He politely declined the Pakistan citizenship offered by its Government. His recall by Allah itself was so significant that he breathed his last in the holy city of Medina on 31st May, 1960 after accomplishing the mission of setting up the ‘Ceylon House’ in the holiest city of Mecca.

Remembering Jayah

It is the bounden duty of the Muslim community to perpetuate the memory of such a great personality. We appreciate efforts taken by the members of the Conference of Sri Lankan Malays under the Presidentship of my good friend  Alhaj Azoor.I should also mention with gratitude two persons, Dr.M.S.Jaldeen and Enver C. Ahlip, for having extensively recorded the biography of Jayah in their books. I may mention with humbleness that I too have published a book in Tamil language in 1994 titled  ‘Educational Contributions of Jayah.’ In fact as a student I received two prizes from the hands of Dr. Jayah at the Zahira College Annual Prize Giving in 1958, which occasion he graced  as the Chief Guest.

The All Ceylon Muslim League on the demise of  Jayah decided to inaugurate a Fund to perpetuate the  memory of late Dr. Jayah. In fact, funds were collected, a piece of land was bought close to Ananda College and plans were drawn to build a Memorial Hall. This land we are told, has gone into litigation and the plan is still dormant for half a century.

The Government of Sri Lanka has honoured him with an issue of a postage stamp on declaring him a National Hero and naming a school and a street in Colombo in his name. My earnest hope is that the Memorial Building will one day become a reality.

We produced the TV show to understand and humanize Iran. I've written this to share my personal experiences, lessons learned, and opinions that were shaped by my trip. And it's your chance to wander with me behind-the-scenes in this rich, perplexing society. I hope you enjoy this journal, and the TV show.

Last year, a friend from the Washington State chapter of the United Nations Association called me and asked what I could do to help them build understanding between Iran and the US, and defuse the tension that could lead to war. I answered, "The only thing I could do would be to produce a TV show on Iran." Over the next few months, I wrote a proposal for a TV show—no politics, just travel. The working title was Iran: Its People and Culture, Yesterday and Today.

Today I walked into the Iranian Embassy in Athens and picked up the visas for my crew and me. It's official: I'm heading to what just might be the most surprising and fascinating land I've ever visited.

Like most Americans, I know next to nothing about Iran. This will be a journey of discovery. What's my hope? To enjoy a rich and fascinating culture, to get to know a nation that's a leader in its corner of the world (and has been for 2,500 years), and to better understand the 70 million people who call this place home.  My mission? To share these lessons through a public TV special.

The permissions were so slow in coming that the project only became a certainty about a week before the shoot. (I had a contingency plan for filming in Istanbul.) Like excited parents-to-be who want to tell the world but hold back until everything looks okay, I couldn't announce our plans until we knew for sure the trip was a go. Because the US does not maintain a diplomatic relationship with Iran, the only way we could communicate was indirectly, via the Pakistani Embassy. Here in Greece, it was strange to go into a relaxed, almost no-security Iranian Embassy…and walk out with visas. We were on our way.

Our 12-day Iran shoot will cover Tehran, Esfahan, Shiraz, and Persepolis. I'll travel with my typical skeleton crew of three: Simon Griffith (director), Karel Bauer (cameraman), and me. We'll also have the help of two Iranian guides: One is a Persian-American friend who lives in Seattle. The other will be appointed by the Iranian government to be with us at all times. This combination will be fascinating…and tricky. We want to be free-spirited, but don't want to abuse the trust of the Iranian government.

Why is Iran letting us in? They actually want to boost Western tourism. I would think this might frighten the Iranian government, since these tourists could bring in unwanted ideas (like those that threatened the USSR, prompting its government to keep most tourists out). But Iran wants more visitors nonetheless. They also believe that the Western media have made their culture look menacing, and never show its warm, human, and gracious side. They did lots of background research on me and my work, and apparently concluded that my motives are acceptable. They say that while they've had problems with other American network crews in the past, they've had good experiences with public television crews.

I hope they understand that, although our approach will be apolitical, that doesn't mean we will simply glorify Iran. While I'm excited to learn about the rich tapestry of Iranian culture and history, I can't ignore some of the fundamental cultural differences. For example, I intend to show the state of Iranian women, which is sure to be very delicate. (Cafés that allow crews to show women breaking modesty regulations can lose their license.) And I hope to learn more about why Iranians always seem to be chanting "Death to America."

I travel to Iran with plenty of anxiety. We considered leaving our big camera in Greece and just taking the small one. I even made sure all my electrical stuff was charged up before flying in. And there are questions: How free will we actually be? Will the hotel rooms be bugged? Is there really absolutely no alcohol—even in fancy hotels? Will crowds gather around us, and then suddenly turn angry?  Will the food be as bad as I remember from my 1978 backpacking trip through Iran?

While I'm exhausted from a month of guidebook research and TV filming in Europe, I need to be fresh and quick-minded for on-camera interactions with people on the street (we hope for lots of this), and to simply stay healthy. I'll lose a night's sleep as we fly in, arriving in Tehran at about 4 a.m.

We have a very sketchy script to start with. It will evolve over the next week and a half. Each day, after a long day of shooting, I'll massage what we've shot and learned into the script, print out a new version, and come up with a shooting plan for the next day. My hunch: By our last day, we'll have a fine show.

The pilot said, "We're taking this plane to Tehran"…and nobody was alarmed.

Suddenly it occurs to Rick's producer, Simon, that the plane is filled with Iranians…and everyone has been given a metal knife.

Flying from Istanbul's Atatürk Airport to Tehran's Khomeini Airport, I think about the airports my fellow passengers likely used—Reagan and De Gaulle. The airports are named after four very different 20th-century leaders, but each one left an indelible mark on his nation.

The plane is filled with well-off Iranian people. Their features are different from mine, but they dress and act just like me. As so often happens when I travel, I'm struck by how people—regardless of the shapes of their noses—are so similar the world over. As we all settle into the wide-body jet, I wish the big decision-makers of our world weren't shielded from an opportunity to share an economy cabin with people like this.

I made this same Istanbul-to-Tehran trip 30 years ago. Last time it took three days on a bus, and the Shah was on his last legs. Wandering Iranian towns in 1978, I remember riot squads in the streets and the Shah's portrait seeming to hang tenuously in market stalls. I also remember being struck by the harsh gap between rich and poor in Tehran. I was 23 years old. I believe that was the first time in my life I was angered by economic injustice.

My first visit to Iran 30 years ago gave me a rich-vs.-poor case of culture shock.

My Istanbul-Tehran trip is quicker this time—three hours rather than three days. And every main square and street that was named "Shah" back then is now named "Khomeini." On my last visit, all denominations of paper money had one face on them. They still do today…but the face is different. At Khomeini International Airport, the only hint of the Shah is the clientele (many of those flying in are likely his supporters who fled Iran for the West in 1978, and are now back to visit loved ones).

As the pilot begins our descent, rich and elegant Persian women put on their scarves. With all that hair suddenly covered, I notice how striking long hair can be—how it really does grab a man's attention. Looking out the window at the lights of Tehran, the sight reminds me of flying into Mexico City at night. Greater Tehran has more people than all of Greece (where I was just traveling).

I'm starting this trip a little bit afraid. I don't know what's in store for us. We are anticipating a challenging and extremely productive 12 days here.

Tehran is a mile-high home to 14 million people.

Tehran: Heavenly Pistachios a Mile High

I was hesitant to tell anyone about this trip until it was actually happening. One day into this experience, we are definitely here. Playful Revolutionary Guards, four-lane highways intersecting with no traffic lights, "Death to America" murals, and big, warm, welcoming smiles…Iran is a fascinating and complex paradox.

Tehran, a youthful and noisy capital city, is the modern heart of this country. It's a smoggy, mile-high metropolis. With a teeming population of 14 million in the metropolitan area, its apartment blocks stretch far into the surrounding mountains.

I step out onto the 15th-floor balcony of my fancy hotel room to hear the hum of the city. I enjoy the view of a vast, twinkling city at twilight. Fresh snow whitens the mountain above the ritzy high-rise condos of North Tehran.

Cars merge through major intersections without traffic lights as if that's the norm. Surprisingly…it works.

As I look straight down, the hotel's entryway is buzzing with activity, as the hotel is hosting a conference on Islamic unity. The circular driveway is lined by the flags of 30 nations. Huge collections of flags seem to be common here—perhaps because it provides a handy opportunity to exclude the Stars and Stripes. (Apart from the ones featured in hateful political murals, I haven't seen an American flag.)

A van with an X-ray security checkpoint is permanently parked outside the entrance. All visitors who enter the hotel needs to pass their bags through this first. It's interesting to see that Iran, a country we feel we need to protect ourselves from, has the same security headaches we do.

Back in my room, I nurse a tall glass of pomegranate juice. My lips are puckered from munching lemony pistachios from an elegantly woven tray—they're the best I've ever tasted (and I am a pistachio connoisseur). I cruise the channels on my TV: CNN, BBC, and lots of programming designed to set the mood for prayer. One channel shows a mesmerizing river with water washing lovingly over shiny rocks. Another shows the sun setting on Mecca, with its Kaaba (the big black box focus of pilgrim worship), in real time.

Cameraman Karel prepares to be shot for his press pass.

Jumping Through Hoops in a Society on Valium

Iran has presented our crew with some unique hurdles. Today we dropped by the foreign press office to get our press badges. There a beautiful and properly covered woman took mug shots for our badges and carefully confirmed the pronunciation of our names in order to transliterate them into Farsi.

The travel agency—overseen by the "Ministry of Islamic Guidance"—has assigned us what they call a "guide," but what I'd call a "government minder." Our guide/minder, Seyed, is required to follow our big camera wherever it goes—even if that means climbing on the back of a motorcycle taxi to follow our cameraman as he films a "point-of-view" shot through wild traffic (photo page 16). When he's not holding on for dear life, Seyed slips a tiny camera out of his pocket and documents our shoot by filming us as we film Iran.

My reach is longest as two narcissists (Seyed and Steves) burn under the Persepolis sun

Our guide Seyed was expected to follow that big camera wherever it went. Zipping through the chaotic traffic to show the "point of view" of Rick on a motorcycle taxi? Hang on tight and follow that bike!

While this sounds constraining, Seyed is a big help to our production. Whenever we film a place of commercial or religious importance, a plainclothes security guard appears. Then we wait around while Seyed explains who we are and what we're doing. No single authority is in charge—many arms of government overlap and make rules that conflict with each other. Seyed makes our filming possible.

Permission to film somewhere is limited to a specific time window. Even if we are allowed to film a certain building, it doesn't mean we can shoot it from the balcony of an adjacent tea house (where we don't have permission), or from any angle that shows a bank (banks cannot be filmed).

Many readers of my blog have skeptically predicted that our access to Iran would be very limited, to only the prettiest sights. (Meanwhile, Iranians I meet are convinced that I'll doctor our footage to make Iran look ugly and dangerous.) In reality, it's far less restrictive here than I expected. Seyed has not stopped me from going anywhere. And, when pushing the limits set on our filming, I actually feel a righteous confidence. Some subjects are forbidden for reasons of security (banks, government, military) or modesty ("un-veiled" women). But because the government understands I'm not filming an "exposé," we are free to shoot all that we need to—including some subjects that are far more potentially provocative, such as anti-American or anti-Israeli murals (more on these later). Bottom line: I already feel I am getting the Iran I came for.

And we are free to talk to and film people on the street. When our camera is rolling—or when Seyed's is—it reminds me of my early trips to the USSR, when only those with nothing to lose would risk talking openly. But at other times, such as when the crew sets up a shot, I'm free to roam about on my own and have fun connecting with locals. Routinely, I'll look up from my note-taking or memorizing my lines to see curious locals gathered, greeting me with smiles, and wanting to talk. When I explain where I'm from, the smiles get bigger. I have never traveled to a place where I had such an easy and enjoyable time connecting with people. Locals are as confused and fascinated by me as I am by them. Young, educated people speak English.

Locals find me quite interesting. Routinely I've looked up from my note-taking and seen people gathered, curious, and wanting to talk.

Even early in the trip, it's clear that the people of Iran are the biggest joy of our visit—everyone's mellow, quick to smile, and very courteous.

From a productivity point of view, it seems as if the country is on Valium. Perhaps Iranians are just not driven as we are by capitalist values to "work hard" and enjoy material prosperity. I understand well-employed people here make $5,000 to $15,000 a year, and pay essentially no tax. (Taxes don't matter much to a government funded by oil.) While the Islamic Revolution is not anti-capitalistic, it feels like a communist society: There seems to be a lack of incentive to really be efficient. Measuring productivity at a glance, things are pretty low-energy.

But that doesn't stop human ingenuity. Just as I'm marveling at some example of Iranian inefficiency, I see an old man with a beautifully carved walking stick ingeniously designed with a small flashlight in its handle to light his way home through his poorly lit village late at night.

No Credit Cards, Alcohol…or Urinals

In this mural (filling the entire wall of a building), martyrs walk heroically into the sunset of death for God and country.

Traveling through Iran, my notebook quickly fills with quirky observations. Reading the comments readers share on my blog (some of whom are upset with me for "naively" trying to understand "our enemy") is thought-provoking. The whole experience makes me want to hug people and scream at the same time. It's intensely human.

One moment, I'm stirred by propaganda murals encouraging young men to walk into the blazing sunset of martyrdom. The next, a woman in a bookstore serves me cookies while I browse, then gives me free of charge a book I admired.

While English is the second language on many signs, there is a substantial language barrier. The majority of Iranians (a little more than half) are Persian. Persians are not Arabs, and they don't speak Arabic—they speak Farsi. This Persian/Arab difference is a very important distinction to the people of Iran. My film crew and I hear over and over again, "We are not Arabs!"

In a bookstore, a woman patiently shows me fine poetry books. As we leave, she gives me a book for free.

The squiggly local script looks like Arabic to me, but I learned that, like the language, it's Farsi. The numbers, however, are the same as those used in the Arab world. Thankfully, when I needed it, I found that they also use "our" numbers.

Iran is a cash society. Because of the 26-year-old American embargo here, Western credit cards don't work. No ATMs for foreigners means that we had to bring in big wads of cash…and learn to count carefully. The money comes with lots of zeros. One dollar is equal to 10,000 rial. (If you exchange $100, you are literally a millionaire here.) A toman isten rial, and some prices are listed in rial, others in toman…a tourist rip-off just waiting to happen. I had a shirt laundered at the hotel for "20,000." Was that in rial ($2)—or in toman ($20)? Coins are rarely used, and there are no state-issued large bills. Local banks print large bills to help local commerce. To tell if a bill is counterfeit, you rub the number with your finger—if it's the real deal, the warmth makes the numbers momentarily disappear.

While Washington made it on our one-dollar bill, Khomeini made it on every denomination here.

People here need to keep track of three different calendars: Persian and Islamic (for local affairs), and Western (for dealing with the outside world). What's the year? It depends: After Muhammad—about 1,430 years ago, or after Christ—two thousand and some years ago.

Of course, the Islamic government legislates women's dress and public behavior (see "Imagine Every Woman's a Nun," on page 14). Men are also affected, to a lesser degree. Neckties are rarely seen, as they're considered the mark of a Shah supporter. And there are no urinals anywhere. (Trust me. I did an extensive search: at the airport, swanky hotels, the university, the fanciest coffee shops.) I was told that Muslims believe you don't get rid of all your urine when you urinate standing up. For religious reasons, they squat. I find this a bit time-consuming. In a men's room with 10 urinals, a guy knows at a glance what's available; in a men's room with 10 doors, you have to go knocking.

Our guide, Seyed, makes sure we're eating in comfortable (i.e., high-end) restaurants, generally in hotels. I wasn't wild about the food on my first trip here in 1978. It's much better now…but still not very exciting. (If French and Italian are the top cuisines in Europe, someone has to keep Norwegian cooking company at the bottom.)

Iran is strictly "dry," so would-be beer-drinkers need to fantasize. They drink a non-alcoholic "malt beverage" that tastes like beer and comes in a beer can.

Restaurants use facial tissue rather than napkins; there's a box of tissues on every dining table. Because Iran is a tea culture, the coffee at breakfast is always instant. Locals assure me that tap water is safe to drink, but I'm sticking with the bottled kind.

Iran is strictly "dry"—absolutely no booze or beer in public. While I keep ordering a yogurt drink (similar to Turkish ayran), local would-be beer-drinkers seem to fantasize: They drink a non-alcoholic "malt beverage" that tastes like beer and comes in a beer can.

 I can't help but think how tourism could boom here if they just opened this place up. There are a few Western tourists (mostly Germans, French, Brits, and Dutch), but they all seem to be on a tour, with a private guide, or visiting relatives. Control gets tighter and looser depending on the political climate, but basically American tourists can visit only with a guided tour. I've met no one just exploring on their own. The Lonely Planet guidebook dominates—it seems every Westerner here has one. Fortunately, it's good. Tourists are so rare, and major tourist sights are so few and obvious, that you bump into the same people day after day. Browsing through picture books and calendars showing the same 15 or 20 images of the top sights in Iran, I'm impressed by how our short trip will manage to include most of them.

CAPTION: Breakfast in a village: A box of Kleenex is always on the table, bread comes in a baggie to stay fresh and dust-free in a dry and dusty world, the coffee is boring instant, and juicy watermelon graces every meal.

Clipped Wings and Conformity On Campus

At the university, there's a lounge for boys…and one for girls.

I was excited to visit the University of Tehran, in hopes of filming highly educated and liberated women and an environment of freedom. I assumed that in Iran, as in most societies, the university would be where people run free…barefoot through the grass of life, leaping over silly limits just because they can.

But instead, the University of Tehran—the country's oldest, biggest, and most prestigious university—makes BYU look like Berkeley. Subsidized by the government, the U. of T. follows the theocracy's guidelines to a T: a strictly enforced dress code, no nonconformist posters, top-down direction for ways to play, segregated cantinas…and students toeing the line (in public, at least).

Hoping to film some interaction with students, I asked for a student union center (the lively place where students come together as on Western campuses). But there was none. Each faculty had a cantina where kids could hang out, with a sales counter separating two sections—one for boys and one for girls.

In the USA, I see university professors as a bastion of free thinking, threatening to people who enjoy the status quo. In Tehran, I found a situation where the theocracy was clearly shaping the curriculum, faculty, and tenor of the campus. Conformity on any university campus saddens me. But seeing it in Iran—a society which so needs some nonconformity—was the most disheartening experience of my whole trip.

Death to…Whatever!

Rick and his driver celebrate their success as road warriors (with a culturally inappropriate thumbs-up).

Traffic is notorious in Tehran. Drivers may seem crazy, but I was impressed by their expertise at keeping things moving. At major intersections, there are no lights—everyone just shuffles through. People are great drivers, and, somehow, it works. I think I'll actually drive more aggressively when I get home.

While the traffic is hair-raising, it's not noisy. Because of a history of motorcycle bandits and assassinations, only small (and therefore quieter) motorcycles are allowed. To get somewhere in a hurry, motorcycle taxis are a blessing. While most Iranians ignore helmet laws, I'm more cautious—I'd rather leave a little paint on passing buses than a piece of scalp.

Adding to the chaotic traffic mix are pedestrians, doing their best to navigate a wild landscape. Locals joke that when you set out to cross a big street, you "go to Chechnya." I'm told that Iran loses more than 30,000 people on the roads each year (in cars and on foot).

While in Tehran, we're being zipped smoothly around by Majid, our driver. Majid navigates our eight-seater bus like a motor scooter, weaving in and out of traffic that flows down the street and between lanes like rocks in a landslide. To illustrate how clueless I am here, for three days I've been calling him "Najaf." And whenever a bit of filming goes well and we triumphantly return to the car, I give him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. But today, Majid patiently explained that I've been confusing his name with a city in Iraq…and that giving someone a thumbs-up in Iran is like giving them the finger.

"Death to traffic!"

While traffic is enough to make you scream, people are incredibly good-humored on the road. I never heard angry horns honking. While stalled in a Tehran jam, people in the neighboring car see me sitting patiently in the back of our van: a foreigner stuck in their traffic. They roll down their window and hand Majid a bouquet of flowers with instructions to give it to the visitor. When the traffic jam breaks up, we move on—with a bouquet from strangers on my lap.

Later, as we struggle to drive along a horribly congested street, Majid declares, "Death to traffic." Then he says, "Because we can do nothing about this traffic, this is what we do. We can all say, 'Death to traffic.'"

The casual tone of Majid's telling aside made me think differently about one of the biggest gripes many Americans have about Iranians: Their penchant for declaring "Death to" this and that. Does Majid literally want to kill all those drivers that were in our way?

The experience makes me wonder if Iranians' "Death to" curses are not so different from Westerners who exclaim, "Damn those French" or "Damn those teenagers" or "Damn this traffic jam." Even though this technically means "die and burn in hell"…of course we don't mean it so severely. (The same goes for some English-speakers' liberal use of the "f-word," which is also rarely intended literally.)

Don't get me wrong: All those "Death to America" and "Death to Israel" murals are impossible to justify. (Can you imagine Americans tolerating "Bomb Iran" banners in their towns?) But I will say they seemed very incongruous with the people I met. Do the Iranians literally wish "death" to the US and Israel? Or is it a mix of international road rage, fear, frustration—and the seductive clarity of a catchy slogan?

Friday: Let Us Pray

Esfahan's great Imam Mosque is both a tourist attraction and a vibrant place of worship.

Esfahan, Iran's "second city" with 3.5 million people, is a showcase of ancient Persian splendor. One of the finest cities in Islam, and famous for its dazzling blue-tiled domes and romantic bridges, the city is also just plain enjoyable. I'm not surprised that in Iran, this is the number-one honeymoon destination.

Everything in Esfahan seems to radiate from the grand Imam Square, dominated by the Imam Mosque—one of holiest in Iran. Dating from the early 1600s, its towering facade is as striking as the grandest cathedrals of Europe.

We were in Iran for just one Friday, the Muslim "Sabbath." Fortunately, we were in Esfahan, so we could attend (and film) a prayer service at this colossal house of worship.

Filming in a mosque filled with thousands of worshippers required permission. Explaining our needs with administrators there, it hit me that the Islamic Revolution employs similar strategies to a communist takeover: Both maintain power by installing partisans in key positions. But the ideology Iran is protecting is not economic (as in the USSR), but religious.

President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has inspired a fashion trend in Iran: simple dark suit, white shirt, no tie, light black beard. Reminiscent of apparatchniks in Soviet times, all of the mosque administrators dressed the part and looked like the president.

To film the service—which was already well underway—we were escorted in front of 5,000 people praying. When we had visited this huge mosque the day before, all I had seen was a lifeless shell with fine tiles for tourists to photograph. An old man had stood in the center of the floor and demonstrated the haunting echoes created by the perfect construction. Old carpets had been rolled up and strewn about like dusty cars in a haphazard parking lot. Today the carpets were rolled out, cozy, and lined with worshippers.

I felt self-conscious, a tall pale American tiptoeing gingerly over the little tablets Shia Muslim men place their heads on when they bend down to pray. Planting our tripod in the corner, we observed.

As everyone bowed in prayer, they revealed security soldiers and a "Death to Israel" banner.

As my brain wandered (just like it sometimes does at home when listening to a sermon), I felt all those worshippers were looking at me rather than listening to their cleric speaking. Soldiers were posted throughout the mosque, standing like statues in their desert-colored fatigues. When the congregation stood, I didn't notice them, but when all bowed, the soldiers remained standing—a reminder that the world was dangerous…especially in mosques. I asked our guide, Seyed, to translate a brightly painted banner above the worshippers. He answered, "Death to Israel."

Despite this disturbing detail, I closed my eyes and let the smell of socks remind me of mosques I'd visited in other Muslim countries. I pulled out my little Mecca compass, the only souvenir I've purchased so far. Sure enough, everyone was facing exactly the right way.

Watching all the worshippers bow and stand, and pray in unison, at first seemed threatening to me. Then I caught the eye of a worshipper having a tough time focusing. He winked. Another man's cell phone rang. He answered in a frustrated whisper as if saying, "Dang, I should have turned that thing off." The mosaics above—Turkish blue and darker Persian blue—added a harmony and calmness to the atmosphere.

I made a point to view the service as if it were my own church, just north of Seattle. I was struck by the similarities: the too-long sermon, the "passing of the peace" (when everyone greets the people around them), the convivial atmosphere as people line up to shake the hand of the cleric after the service, and the fellowship as everyone hangs out in the courtyard afterwards. On our way out, I shook the hand of the young cleric—he had a short slight build, a tight white turban, a trim Ahmadinejad-style beard, big teeth, and a playful smile. In the courtyard, a man hit the branches of a mulberry tree with a pole as kids scrambled for the treasured little berries.

After the service, the cleric was eager to talk with us…and share some ice cream.

Esfahan TV, which had televised the prayer service, saw us and wanted an interview. It was exciting to be on local TV. They asked why we were here, how I saw Iranian people, and why I thought there was a problem between the US and Iran (I pointed out the "Death to Israel" banner for starters). They fixated on whether our show would actually air…and if we'd spin our report to make Iran look evil.

Leaving the mosque, our crew pondered how easily the footage we'd just shot could be cut and edited to appear either menacing or heartwarming, depending on our agenda. Our mosque shots could be juxtaposed with guerillas leaping over barbed wire and accompanied by jihadist music to be frightening. Instead, we planned to edit it to match our actual experience: showing the guards and "Death to Israel" banner, but focusing on the men with warm faces praying with their sons at their sides, and the children outside scrambling for mulberries.

It occurred to me that the segregation of the sexes—men in the center and women behind a giant hanging carpet at the side—contributes to the negative image many Western Christians have of Islam. Then, playing the old anthropologist's game of changing my perspective, I considered how the predominantly male-led Christian services that I'm so comfortable with could also be edited to look ominous to those unfamiliar with the rituals. At important Roman Catholic Masses, you'll see a dozen priests—all male—in robes before a bowing audience. The leader of a billion Catholics is chosen by a secretive, ritual-filled gathering of old men in strange hats and robes with chanting and incense. It could be filled with majesty, or with menace…depending on what you show and how you show it.

We set up to film across the vast square from the mosque. My lines were memorized and I was ready to go. Then, suddenly, the cleric with the beaming smile came toward us with a platter of desserts—the local ice cream specialty, like frozen shredded wheat sprinkled with coconut. I felt like Rafsanjani (he looked to me like Iran's moderate former president) had just interrupted my work to serve us ice cream. We had a lively conversation, joking about how it might help if his president went to my town for a prayer service, and my president came here.

CAPTION: After prayer service at the mosque, a proud dad grabs a photo of his children with his cell phone.

Persepolis: This Land Was Once a Superpower

Persepolis is pharaoh-like in its scale. Emperors' tombs are cut into the neighboring mountains.

The sightseeing highlight of our time in Iran had to be Persepolis. Persepolis was the dazzling capital of the Persian Empire, back when it reached from Greece to India. Built by Darius and his son Xerxes the Great around 500 B.C., this sprawling complex of royal palaces was the awe-inspiring home of the "King of Kings" for nearly two hundred years. At the time, Persia was so mighty, no fortifications were needed. Still 10,000 guards served at the pleasure of the emperor. Persepolis, which evokes the majesty of Giza or Luxor in Egypt, is (in my opinion) the greatest ancient site between the Holy Land and India.

Bottom: About 2,500 years ago, subjects of the empire (from 28 nations) would pass through the Nations' Gate, bearing gifts for the "King of Kings."

My main regret from traveling through Iran on my first visit (back in 1978) was not trekking south to Persepolis. And I wanted to include Persepolis in our TV show because it's a powerful reminder that the soul of Iran is Persia, which predates the introduction of Islam by a thousand years. Arriving at Persepolis, in the middle of a vast and arid plain, was thrilling. This is one of those rare places that comes with high expectations and actually exceeds them.

Locals—quick to smile for the camera of a new American friend—visit Persepolis to connect with and celebrate their impressive cultural roots.

We got here after a long day of driving—just in time for that magic hour before the sun set. The light was glorious, the stones glowed rosy, and all the visitors seemed to be enjoying a special "sightseeing high." I saw more Western tourists visiting Persepolis than at any other single sight in the country. But I was struck most by the Iranian people who travel here to savor this reminder that their nation was a huge and mighty empire 2,500 years ago.

Wandering the site, you feel the omnipotence of the Persian Empire, and get a strong appreciation for the enduring strength of this culture and its people. I imagined this place at its zenith: the grand ceremonial headquarters of the Persian Empire. Immense royal tombs, reminiscent of those built for Egyptian pharaohs, are cut into the adjacent mountainside. The tombs of Darius and Xerxes come with huge carved reliefs of ferocious lions. Even today—2,500 years after their deaths—they're reminding us of their great power. But, as history has taught us, no empire lasts forever. In 333 B.C., Persepolis was sacked and burned by Alexander the Great, replacing Persian dominance with Greek culture…and Persepolis has been a ruin ever since.

With the sun low and the colors warm, Simon, Karel, and Rick are enjoying a great day of filming.

The approach to this awe-inspiring sight is marred by a vast and ugly tarmac with 1970s-era light poles. Reminiscent of another megalomaniac ruler, this hodgepodge is left from the Shah's 1971 party celebrating the 2,500-year anniversary of the Persian Empire—designed to remind the world that he ruled Persia with the extravagance of a modern-day Xerxes or Darius. The Shah flew in dignitaries from all over the world, along with dinner from Maxim's in Paris, one of the finest restaurants in Europe. Iranian historians consider this arrogant display of imperial wealth and Western decadence the beginning of the end for the Shah. Within a decade, he was gone and Khomeini was in. It's my hunch that the ugly asphalt remains of the Shah's party are left here so visiting locals can remember who their Revolution overthrew.

As in any desert, the temperature dropped dramatically after the sun set. I pressed my body against the massive stone walls to feel the warmth stored in the stones. The next morning, under a blistering sun, I hugged the same wall to catch the cool of the night that it still carried.

Martyrs' Cemetery: Countless Deaths for God and Country

How has this boy's loss shaped his world view?

War cemeteries always seem to come with a healthy dose of God—as if dying for God and country makes a soldier's death more meaningful than just dying for country. That is certainly true at Iran's many martyr cemeteries.

Most estimates are that there were over a million casualties in the Iran-Iraq War. Iran considers anyone who dies defending the country to be a hero and a martyr. Each Iranian city has a vast martyrs' cemetery from this conflict. Tombs seem to go on forever, and each one has a portrait of the martyr and flies a green, white, and red Iranian flag. All the dates are from 1980 to 1989. Over two decades later, the cemetery is still very much alive with mourning loved ones. While the United States lives with the scars of Vietnam, the same generation of Iranians live with the scars of their war with Iraq—a war in which they, with one-quarter our population, suffered three times the deaths.

A steady wind blows through seas of flags on the day of our visit, which adds a stirring quality to the scene. And the place is bustling with people—all mourning their lost loved ones as if the loss happened a year ago rather than twenty. The cemetery has a quiet dignity, and—while I feel a bit awkward at first (being part of an American crew with a big TV camera)—people either ignore us or make us feel welcome.

We meet two families sharing a dinner on one tomb (a local tradition). One of the fathers insists we join them for a little food. They tell us their story: They met each other twenty years ago while visiting their sons, who were buried side by side. They became friends, their surviving children married each other, and ever since then they gather regularly to share a meal on the tombs of their sons.

Could be anywhere: A mother and her son.

A few yards away, a long row of white tombs stretches into the distance, with only one figure interrupting the visual rhythm created by the receding tombs. It's a mother cloaked in black sitting on her son's tomb, praying—a pyramid of maternal sorrow.

Nearby is a different area: marble slabs without upright stones, flags, or photos. This zone has the greatest concentration of mothers. My friend explains that these slabs mark bodies of unidentified heroes. Mothers whose sons were never found come here to mourn.

I leave the cemetery sorting through a jumble of thoughts:

How oceans of blood were shed by both sides in the Iran-Iraq War—a war of aggression waged by Saddam Hussein and Iraq against Iran.

How invasion is nothing new for this mighty and historic nation. (When I visited the surprisingly humble National Museum of Archaeology in Tehran, the curator explained that the art treasures of his country were scattered in museums everywhere but in Iran.)

How an elderly, aristocratic Iranian woman had crossed the street to look me in the eye and tell me, "We are proud, we are united, and we are strong. When you go home, please tell the truth."

How, with a reckless military action, this society could be set ablaze—the uniquely Persian mix of delightful little shops, university students with lofty career aspirations, gorgeous young adults with groomed eyebrows and perfect nose jobs, hope, progress, hard work, and the gentle people I experienced here in Iran could so easily and quickly be turned into a hell of dysfunctional cities, torn-apart families, wailing mothers, newly empowered clerics, and radicalized people.

I had no problem chatting with members of today's Revolutionary Guard.

My visit to the cemetery drove home a feeling that had been percolating throughout my trip. There are many things that Americans justifiably find outrageous about the Iranian government—from supporting Hezbollah and making threats against Israel; to oppressing women and gay people; to asserting their right to join the world nuclear club.

And yet, no matter how strongly we want to see our beliefs and values prevail in Iran, we must pursue that aim carefully. What if our saber-rattling doesn't coerce this country into compliance? In the past, other powerful nations have underestimated Iran's willingness to be pulverized in a war…and both Iran and their enemies have paid the price.

I have to believe that smart and determined diplomacy can keep the Iranians—and us—from having to build giant new cemeteries for the next generation's war dead. That doesn't mean "giving in" to Iran…it means acknowledging that war is a failure and it behooves us to find an alternative.

Back To Europe: Tight Pants, Necklines, Booze…and Freedom

My flight out of Iran was scheduled for 3 a.m. For whatever reason, planes leaving for the West depart in the wee hours. The TV crew had caught an earlier flight, Seyed had gone home, and I was groggy and alone.

Walking down the jetway onto my Air France plane, I saw busty French flight attendants—hair flowing freely—greeting passengers at the door. It was as if the plane was a lifeboat, and they were pulling us back to the safety of the West. People entered with a sigh of relief, women pulled off their scarves…and suddenly we were free to be "normal." The jet lifted off, flying in the exact opposite route the Ayatollah had traveled to succeed the Shah.

For 12 days, I'd been out of my comfort zone, in a land where people live under a theocracy and find different truths to be God-given and self-evident. I tasted not a drop of alcohol, and I never encountered a urinal. Women were not to show the shape of their body or their hair (and were beautiful nevertheless). It was a land where people took photos of me, as if I were the cultural spectacle.

Landing in Paris was reverse culture shock. I sipped wine like it was heaven-sent. I noticed hair, necklines, and tight pants like never before. University students sat at outdoor cafés, men and women mingling together as they discussed whatever hot-button issue interested them. After the Valium-paced lifestyle of Iran, I felt an energy and efficiency cranked up on high. People were free to be "evil." And, as I stood before that first urinal, I was thankful to be a Westerner.

Reflecting on My Motives…and the Real Souvenir I Carried Home

Hooking fingers seems to be human nature—we can be friends and can get along.

Returning home to the US, I faced a barrage of questions—mainly, "Why did you go to Iran?" Some were skeptical of my motives, accusing me of just trying to make a buck. (As a businessman, I can assure you there's no risk of a profit in this venture.) Others condemned me for acting as a Jane Fonda-type mouthpiece for an enemy that has allegedly bankrolled terrorists.

But I didn't go to Iran as a businessman or as a politician, but as what I am—a travel writer. I went for the same reasons I travel everywhere: to get out of my own culture and learn, to go to a scary place and find it's not so scary, and to bring distant places to people who've yet to go there. To me, understanding people and their lives is what travel is about, no matter where you go. And, as a TV-producing travel writer, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

I have long held that travel can be a powerful force for peace. Travel promotes understanding at the expense of fear. And understanding bridges conflict between nations. As Americans, we've endured the economic and human cost of war engulfing Iran's neighbor, Iraq. Seeing Iraq's cultural sites and its kind people being dragged through the ugliness of that war, I wished I'd been able to go to Baghdad to preserve images of a peacetime Iraq. More recently, as our leaders' rhetoric has ramped up the possibility of another war—with Iran —I didn't want to miss that chance again. As an American taxpayer, I believe that every bullet that flies and every bomb that drops has my name on it. That's a big responsibility. It's human nature to not want to know the people on the receiving end of your "shock and awe"—but to do so is wrong. I wanted to put a human face on "collateral damage."

Young couples—regardless of their presidents—share the same basic dreams and aspirations the world over.

It's not easy finding a middle ground between "The Great Satan" and "The Axis of Evil." Some positions (such as President Ahmedinejad denying the Holocaust) are just plain wrong. But I don't entirely agree with my own president, either. Yes, there are evil people in Iran. Yes, the rhetoric and policies of Iran's leaders can be objectionable. But there is so much more to Iran than the negative image drummed into us by our media and our government.

My trip to Iran taught me things I could only understand by actually traveling there. First, I learned how thankful I am that I live in America instead of Iran. Yet I also learned that the vast majority of Iranians would choose to live nowhere else but their country.

Throughout my trip, I kept thinking, "Politicians come and go, but the people are here to stay." While I didn't like Iran's government, I gained an empathy and a deeper respect for its people. My initial fears about the place were overcome by the hospitality, spontaneity, and curiosity of the people. I found that while most Iranians didn't like America's government, they genuinely like Americans.

As a traveler I've often found that the more a culture differs from my own, the more I am struck by its essential humanity.

I left Iran struck more by what we have in common than by our differences. Most Iranians, like most Americans, couldn't care less about politics. They simply want a good, safe life for their loved ones. Just like my country, Iran has one dominant ethnic group and religion that's struggling with issues of diversity and change—liberal versus conservative, modern versus traditional, secular versus religious. As in my own hometown, people of great faith are suspicious of people of no faith or a different faith. Both societies seek a defense against the onslaught of modern materialism that threatens their traditional "family values." Both societies are suspicious of each other, and both are especially suspicious of each other's government.

My hope is that the TV show we produced (along with this journal) will help promote understanding between our two countries. When we travel—whether to an "Axis of Evil" country, or just to a place where people yodel when they're happy, or fight bulls to impress the girls, or can't serve breakfast until today's croissants arrive—we enrich our lives and better understand our place on this planet. People-to-people connections reduce fear and mistrust. We learn that we can disagree and still coexist peacefully.

Granted, there's no easy solution, but surely getting to know Iranian culture is a step in the right direction. Hopefully, even the most skeptical will appreciate the humanity of 70 million Iranian people. Our political leaders sometimes make us forget that all of us on this small planet are equally precious children of God. Having been to Iran, I feel this more strongly than ever. If this all sounds too idealistic, or even naive…try coming to Iran and meeting these people face-to-face.

Happy travels…and, as they say in Iran, "May peace be upon us."

“The modern man with his philosophies of criticism and scientific specialism finds himself in a strange predicament. His naturalism has given him an unprecedented control over the forces of Nature but has robbed him of faith is his own future…. Wholly over-shadowed by the result of his intellectual activity, he has ceased to live soulfully, i.e. from within. In the domain of thought he is living in open conflict with himself, and in the domain of economic and political life he is living in open conflict with others. He finds himself unable to control his ruthless energy and infinite gold hunger which is gradually killing all higher striving in him and bringing him nothing but life-weariness.”

Iqbal does not, however, advocate a total repudiation of the West; nor does he think that the Eastern Society should close itself hermetically against the culture of the West. Instead, he advocates a critical appraisal of the West and the understanding of its sources of strength as well as of its weakness with a view to the adoption and assimilation by the East of all that is good in the culture of the West without any hindrance to the organic development of the culture and traditions of the East.

Iqbal finds that science is really the source of the dominance of the West: And yet the experimental method of science and technology is certainly not an European discovery. Iqbal proves that it was something inspired and greatly encouraged by the Holy Quran and was practiced assiduously by the Muslims till Muslim Society was undermined by the extraneous influence of Greek speculation and degenerate mysticism that unfortunately became popular, during a later period.

Neglect of science was, therefore, not due to any basic defect in the Islamic teaching itself. With a wealth of illustrations and quotations from the Holy Quran, Iqbal demonstrates that Islam is definitely opposed to a static view of the universe and encourages Man’s conquest of Nature. Of all the creations of God, Man alone is possessed of a personality and is endowed with the status of God’s Vicegerent – Khalifa, which enables him to become “an active participant in the creative activity of his Maker.” Iqbal stresses that Man is born free and therefore should not choose the path of the slave. He need not be a serf to any priest or potentate.

“It is the lot of man to share in the deeper aspirations of the universe around him and to shape his own destiny as well as that of the universe, now by adjusting himself to its forces, now by putting the whole of his energy to mould its forces to his own ends and purposes. And in this process of progressive change God becomes a co-worker with him provided man takes the initiative.”

World and matter are thus to be subordinated to human personality and human ends and not to be regarded as just illusions, to be abhorred or ignored. “True self-development according to Islam would come not by renunciation but through a proper adjustment of man’s relations to the external world in the light of inspiration received from the inner world.”

Western Science is therefore not alien to Islam but a part of it, and there should therefore be no difficulty in the assimilation of this Science. In fact, true Islam demands such an assimilation. In this process, the deficiencies of the West should not however be forgotten, namely: Without Religion there is no salvation for mankind. And Iqbal emphasized that Power without Vision and Science without Religion and Politics without Morality would lead Humanity to be sure perdition both in the Here and Hereafter.

He explains that Islam demands of its votaries the strengthening of the Self – Khudi, with the aid of a society characterized by the conception of the Oneness of God, and the finality of the Holy Prophet; and every one of the five principles of Islam has a special significance in the journey of the Self towards its freedom.

The social or sociological implications of such developed selves living in such a society are not left unexpanded by Iqbal;“Islam recognizes the worth of the individual, and disciplines him to give away his all to the service of God and man. Its possibilities are not yet exhausted. It can still create a new world where the social rank of man is not determined by his caste or colour, or the amount of dividend he earns, but by the kind of life he lives; where the poor tax the rich, where human society is founded not on the equality of stomachs but on the equality of spirits…. where private ownership is a trust and where capital cannot be allowed to accumulate so as to dominate the real producer of wealth.”

These, Iqbal points out, are derived from the distinctive features of the Islamic Society some of which are specifically treated in his poems and lectures: Islam’s abolition of all the artificial and pernicious distinctions of caste, creed, colour and economic status, its abhorrence of narrow nationalism and its strong advocacy of patriotism, Islam’s encouragement of science and self-development, its emphasis on equality, solidarity, freedom and tolerance, its distinctive doctrine of unadulterated and unalloyed monotheism – tawhid which banishes all fears except the fear of God, Islam’s acceptance of the inspired leadership of the Last Prophet, its possession of a Code for the guidance of Society in all spheres of Life, its goal of man as the Vicegerent of God, its emphasis on Man as the trustee of a free personality which he accepted at his peril and which betokens God’s trust in Man, its conception of Taqdir or destiny and its conception of the Ideal Character.

“This Society of Islam has thus one single purpose running through its mind, a unity of sentiments inspiring its being and a single criterion for good and evil, and a basis enshrined in the sanctuary of our hearts.” The Quranic description of the righteous as “those who believe and do good” makes it clear that in the living religion of Islam there is no division between dogma and deed, between creed and conduct; nor is there dissociation of belief from behaviour, or faith from action.

A good Muslim according to Iqbal is one, “who develops all his powers and strengthens his individuality through active contact with his material and cultural environment.

This strong, concentrated individuality sharpened and steeled through a life of an active experience, is to be dedicated to the service of the Lord in whose name he is out to conquer the world.

But when the world lies conquered at his feet, he is strong enough to stand aloof from and superior to, the well nigh irresistible temptations which weaken the moral fiber.

His self-respect gives him courage and adventurousness: his tolerance and respect for the rights and personality of others make him sensitive to the claims which their common humanity makes on him. In the pursuit of his ideals he is strong enough to defy with contempt the vested interests and forces which stand in the way of their realization.”

Iqbal thus belongs to our century; he has a special message for our time and a solution for the cultural conflicts of our period. He asks us to achieve a synthesis of the cultures of the East and the West, gaining a new vitality from the healthy sources of our past culture.

He has given us a glimpse of Islam, pristine and pure and has exhorted us to go in quest of it, trusting in the Almighty and placing reliance in ourselves and without being oppressed or overwhelmed by the extremes of either scholasticism or Sufism. Iqbal thus becomes our modern guide of Islam, who has shown us the old path, having himself cleared it of the dead leaves and fallen trees that were impeding the progress of the travelers And to Humanity in general Iqbal has given a dynamic message of a life of striving and courage motivated by the fear of God. This article was written by A.M.A.Azeez, well known Muslim scholar , in 1964. 

Rss IN 1963 Republic day Parade in New Delhi

[Bismillahnews.in-28-11-11-New Delhi] In this article I wish to give you an account of the evolution of ghastly Hindu terrorism. It is about how Muslims have faced systematic massacres and suffered atrocities unleashed by the fascist forces the RSS, BJP, VHP, and the A Bajrang Dal in collusion with the communal-minded police and administration.

Hindu terrorism was unleashed on 30 January 1948 when the father of the nation Mahatma Gandhi was shot dead by an activist of the RSS, the terrorist organization which was established in 1925 as the military wing of the All-India Hindu Maha Sabha with the express purpose of combating the Muslims. Soon after the assassination of Mahatma the Hindu press spread the rumour that he was killed by a Muslim. Then a hell was let loose upon the Muslims. They faced death and destruction everywhere. They had circumscised Godse to give him a Muslim identity. In this ghastly atmosphere it was decided at the highest level that the Hindu public will not believe the truth unless the identity of the assassin is disclosed by none else than the Prime Minister of India Pundit Jawaharlal Nehru. As soon as Nehru announced on the All-India Radio that Gandhi was killed by a Hindu youth named Nathu Ram Godse, violence against Muslims subsided and they took a sigh of relief. Who was this Godse? He was a worker of the RSS.

Later trial of Godse and others proved that Gandhi’s assassination was a result of a conspiracy on the part of fascist leaders and organizations. The RSS was banned thereafter for some time.

The next most dastardly act of Hindu terrorism took place on 6 December 1996 when leaders and workers belonging to the fascist RSS, BJP, VHP, and Bajrang Dalassembled in Ajodhya for the so-called kar seva and exhorted the unruly crowds to demolish the 500 year old Jama Masjid, claiming it as the so-called Ram Janam Bhoomi. This happened against the undertaking given by the UP Government to the Indian supreme Court towards maintaining the status quo and in the presence of a horde of Central and State armed forces, and repeated false assurances given by the then PM Narasimha Rao, who was an RSS worker in his youth.

The third important act of Hindu terrorism is the assassination of former Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi at the hands of LTTE cadres, which was essentially a Hindu terrorist organization committed to elimination of Muslims from Sri Lanka. They  wantonly razed many Muslim villages to the ground. Although they were Hindu terrorists the Hindu media never called them terrorists but referred to them as Tamil Tigers.

The United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA) is yet another Hindu terrorist organization whose apparent aim is freedom from India but whose one objective is to wipe out Muslim population of Assam. The Hindu media never calls them terrorists but refers to them as liberators of Assam.

In 2008 the twin bomb blasts in Malegaon that killed a large number of Muslims were masterminded by the Hindu terrorists as confessed by their leader swami Aseemanand.

In Kanpur, UP, a bomb manufacturing factory was in full operation with the money provided by the Hindu fascists and in collaboration with retired military officers. Its existence came to light when a sudden explosion inside killed some and deprived others of their limbs and legs. The Hindu media hushed up the matter and gave its news in back-page columns to minimize its impact. The police made some arrests for namesake then the case was shelved forever.

On the contrary, whenever an explosion takes place Muslims are always suspected, arrested indiscriminately and false sketches of bearded Muslim youth circulated as wanted terrorists.

It is the first duty of the police in a secular democratic country to maintain peace and uphold rule of law. But in India they join hands with the Hindu terrorists in killing Muslims and destroying their properties. Once the late Justice Anand Narain Mulla of the Allahabad High Court had described them as a criminal organization.

In the recent bomb blast that took place at the Delhi High Court, a 15-year old Hindu student sent an email in the name of the so-called Indian Mujahideen claiming responsibility for the blasts. Thereafter, the Hindu media published pictures of bearded faces to propagate that Muslims had done it. God damn these lying media.

In a joint assault by the local police and the Hindu terrorists on Muslims assembled for prayers in their mosque at Gopalgarh Town of Bharatpur district of Rajasthan at least nine unarmed Muslims were gunned down and scores injured and the walls of the mosque were pierced through bullets. No action has been taken against the culprits so far.

Soon after the violence in Gopalgarh, an act of sacrilege in Rudrapur, Uttarakhand, incited the local Muslim youth to agitate for action against the culprits. Instead of redressing their grievance the police shot dead eight, injured many and arrested  many unilaterally. No inquiry was held and no action was taken against the culprits.Hyderabad, Kurnool, Adoni, Ahmednagar Anti-Muslims riots on the occasion Ganesh Idol Visargan this year by Police in compliance with Hindu Vahini have largely gone unreported in the Hindu Media.

It is a tragedy that the person who presided over the genocide of Muslims in Gujarat in 2002 is being touted as a future prime minister of India with the blessings of LK Advani. In the most dastardly act of mass burning of Muslims only 31 criminals have been awarded life, not death sentence. The guilty men of Gujarat have yet to be brought to justice.

The latest atrocity of the Hindu terrorists against Muslims is their opposition to the bill for prevention of violence against the minorities. The bill aims at holding the police and administration of the states responsible for such acts of violence against the minorities. By preventing its passage the fascist forces want to keep the door of anti-minority violence open for ever.

The Pakistan Pavilion was opened by President Mahinda Rajapaksa in May. The pavilion offers an excellent opportunity for visitors to access to information about the places of Buddhist values in Pakistan.

Despite being a predominantly Muslim country, the people and the government of Pakistan have preserved heritage sites and the places of worship belonging to other religious communities.

Buddhism left a rich legacy of art and architecture in Pakistan. Despite the vagaries of centuries, the Gandhara region preserved a lot of the heritage in craft and art. This legacy is visible even today in Pakistan.

The Pakistan Pavilion at the International Buddhist Museum aims to showcase the historic legacy of Gandhara region of Pakistan, which is preserved in a respectable manner in Pakistan.

The Pakistan pavilion is composed of two chambers namely Gandhara and Taxilla. It contains replicas of historic Buddhist monuments from these regions.

The statue of Fasting Buddha has become an icon of the rich Gandhara heritage of Pakistan.

It has unique characteristics, depicting the hardships that Siddhartha endured to attain the enlightenment. This statue ranks the finest specimen of Gandhara Art and the rarest antiquities of the world. The original statue from 2nd century AD is available in Lahore Museum, Pakistan.

A replica depicting the visit of the Buddha to a Brahman's hermitage is at the museum. Siddhartha was facing problems in attaining the enlightenment. He, therefore, decided to take advice of the Brahmans. He consulted the first one, but was not satisfied.

He consulted the second one who also could not solve his problem. He realized that the best way to find the solution was in his own way, without getting into consultation with anyone.

The Buddha displayed his miraculous powers at Sarasvati before king Prasenajit in a specially built pavilion to convert six heretical teachers of Rajgir.

Another replica is at the museum depicting the passing away of the Buddha.

The museum also includes replicas depicting the pyre of the Buddha (the cremation) and important places of Siddhartha's life.

Born in 1911 in Jaffna, Dr. Azeez joined the Allapichchai Quran Madrassa in 1916 where he learnt to read the Quran. He passed the Standard III examinations in the Tamil medium in 1920 at the Mohammadiya Mixed School. He joined the Hindu School, R.K.M. Vaidyeshwara Vidyalayam in 1921 and the Jaffna Hindu College in 1923 and studied there until 1928. Dr. Azeez was a child prodigy having always been one year ahead of the age limits during his academic career, so much so that when he came to entering University in 1928, he had to wait for a year as he was underage. He spent that excess year at St. Joseph's College, Colombo. In the formative years of high  life, the socio culturally religious mixed education moulded the future of the young man who learnt a great deal from his Maulavis at the Madrassa, and the Teachers at the predominantly Hindu Schools. It was during that time that the foundations were laid for a good upbringing and education in the Tamil language which was one of his strongest suits in his later years. Dr. Azeez as a matter of routine every morning listened to Hindu devotional songs (Thevarams) over the radio as a result of which he relished the beauty of the Tamil language in those songs. He had an abiding interest and love for the Tamil language.

Dr. Azeez completed the 1933 examinations of the University of London which were conducted in Ceylon finally achieving a Degree with Honours in the subject of History. The excellent performance at University Degree level won him a Government Scholarship to the Cambridge University in England to pursue a Post Graduate Degree. However, just before he left Ceylon, he sat for the competitive Ceylon Civil Service Examination in an attempt to embark on a solid career in Government Service.

Having started as a Cadet in 1935 Dr. Azeez was recognized as a very capable Administrator and a relentless worker whose ability to get things done were soon spotted and rewarded. From Matale where he started he was transferred to the AGA's Office in Kandy and thereafter he held the post of Administrative Secretary, Department of Medical and Sanitary Services, Secretary to the Minister of Health (Hon. Dr. W A. De Silva), Additional Landing Surveyor, H M Customs, AGA (Emergency, Kalmunai), Department of Food Control, AGA Kandy, Information Officer, Additional Controller of Establishments, Treasury, Assistant Commissioner of Parliamentary Elections and Additional Secretary to the Minister of Health and Local Government (S.W.R.D. Bandaranaike), all in a short space of 13 years – an exemplary record for any Government Servant.

History also tells us that although there are Muslims who had excelled in various fields, by the beginning of the twentieth century in Ceylon there were virtually no intellectual giants in the Muslim community to match the calibre of Dr Azeez. In addition to God given intelligence, Dr. Azeez also was endowed with rare talents and the ability to communicate in the written and spoken medium in both Tamil and English. His senior students in the College had always looked forward to the weekly Assembly, especially to listen to the articulate deliveries. He was not only a handsome leader to behold but he was also a great speaker who kept the audience spellbound. For us as young men at that time his rhetoric was a treat.

The pursuit of excellence in all spheres was more than evident to all of us HSC students at College during that time as the visible efforts of Dr. Azeez our Principal, spread like wildfire. His mere presence inspired in the students a promise of hope, faith and confidence.

In the immortal words of Shakespeare "some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them", Dr. Azeez certainly fell into the second category in that by virtue of his intellect, his enormous contributions to mankind – the Food Programme in the Eastern Province during World War II, setting up of the Ceylon Muslim Scholarship Fund, the Y.M.M.A and a host of other institutions, his period as a Senator in the first Parliament of Ceylon and the greatest contribution of all being the multiplier effect educational developments that he contributed at Zahira and elsewhere are lasting monuments to a great man who has left his footprints on the sands of time. His story for generations to come will always recall him for the remarkable record he has left behind.

The Ceylon Government and the British Empire awarded Dr. Azeez him the Order of the British Empire (MBE) in 1951. Surely, Allah will have a special place for him in the Jennath. Ameen.

The writer  is currently the Chairman of the Confifi Group of Companies and the Bairaha Group was at one time Professor of Management Accounting at the University of Sri Jayawardenapura. He was also a Member of the Finance Commission of Sri Lanka and the National Police Commission of Sri Lanka. He was awarded the title Deshabandu in 1987 and elevated to Desamanya in 2005 by the Presidents of Sri Lanka.

National Professor Mohammad Ibrahim was a great and successful physician, a gifted teacher, a talented organiser and a reformer. His contribution in the field of medicine in general and diabetes in particular has been nothing less than phenomenal. He spent the major part of his life in the government health services in different key positions after getting the MB degree in 1938 and becoming MRCP in 1949. He was made an FCCP in 1950.

In recognition of his contributions, the government of Bangladesh honoured him by appointing him the first National Professor from among physicians in 1984. He was awarded Swadhinata Padak (1979); Gold Medal by Begum Zebunnesa and Kazi Mahbubullah Trust (1981); Gold Medal by Mahbub Ali Khan Memorial Trust (1985); Gold Medal by Comilla Foundation, Comilla (1986); Gold Medal by Khan Bahadur Ahsanullah Memorial Trust, Ahsania Mission, Dhaka (1989); Gold Medal by Islamic Foundation Bangladesh (1989).

Dr. Mohammed Ibrahim was the founder of the Diabetic Association in Dhaka (1956) and in Karachi and Lahore, West Pakistan (1964). He first thought of diabetic care in the country. He realised that not only doctors but also patients should be involved in the process of diabetic care. He called it socio-medical care. Although the real extent of the problem of diabetes was not evident in our part of the world, he could foresee the present picture at that time and organised a group of social workers, philanthropists and professionals. With their help he established Diabetic Association of Pakistan on February 28, 1956. Diabetic care was started in a tin-shed building at Segun Bagicha with only 23 patients.

Dr, Ibrahim's motto was: "No diabetic patient should die untreated, unfed or unemployed, even if she/he is poor." So, he committed himself to give primary care to the diabetic patients free of cost, irrespective of socio-economic, racial or religious status. Even rich patients were not allowed to pay for the primary diabetic care, but they could donate money to the association. The funds were raised through motivation programmes. As there were no indoor facilities initially at Segun Bagicha, patients in need of hospitalisation were sent to other hospitals. In the beginning of the '70s, a few short-stay beds were established to take care of the serious patients.

He succeeded in establishing the diabetes health-care and research institute complex, named the Bangladesh Institute of Research and Rehabilitation in Diabetes, Endocrine and Metabolic Disorders (BIRDEM) at Shahbag, Dhaka, in 1980, where the out-patients centre of the Bangladesh Diabetic Association was shifted. The institute is housed in two large buildings, named the Ibrahim Memorial Diabetes Centre, after his death in 1989.

To develop trained and specialised manpower, he also established an Academy in BIRDEM for postgraduate education in Diabetes, Endocrine and Metabolism (DEM). BIRDEM has been acclaimed as a model for South East Asia. In recognition of its innovative, extensive and high quality services BIRDEM was designated in 1982 as a "WHO-Collaborating Centre for Developing Community-oriented Programmes for Prevention and Control of Diabetes." It was the first such centre in Asia.

Dr. Ibrahim was very much aware about the quality of the service provided to the patients. He used to tell the patients: "We are grateful to you for giving us the opportunity to serve." His humility was legendary and most genuine. Deep empathy and compassion were characteristics of his dealing with his patients, especially those who were poor and in pain. He also motivated other doctors to serve the patients with empathy. He included social welfare, health education, nutritional education and rehabilitation in the diabetes healthcare delivery system.

He always believed that an institution achieved its goal and excellence not by machines but by their its resources, and he spent all his life in developing talented human resources. For over three decades, Mohammad Ibrahim succeeded in generating awareness about diabetes through free-of-cost quality services, health education, and motivation. He also established the Bangladesh Institute of Research and Training for Applied Nutrition (BIRTAN) and Rehabilitation and Vocational Training Centre (RVTC) to develop low-cost nutrition and give vocational training to poor and unemployed diabetics. He also set up a family planning section at BIRDEM for motivational work.

He took keen interest in family planning. His involvement began as a founder member of the Family Planning Association of Bangladesh, which first started its programme in the mid-fifties. He made his real impact as an adviser to the resident, with the rank of minister, in-charge of the Ministry of Health and Population Control, in the mid-1970's. He was instrumental in formulating the population control policy of the government for the first time, and introduced the National Population Council.

Under the luminosity of the guidance and philosophy of its founder the Diabetic Association of Bangladesh upheld its vision that no diabetic should die untreated, unemployed or unfed even if poor, and all people shall be provided with affordable health care service.

The Association has set some targets and objectives as its mission, which include, inter alia, providing total healthcare including rehabilitation for all diabetics irrespective of gender, economic and social status through different institutions of the Association; expanding these services to provide affordable BADAS healthcare through self-sustaining centres of excellence; developing human resources to create requisite specialised quality manpower (physicians, technicians, nurses, etc.) of high ethical standards; developing leadership in healthcare through dedicated and transparent management system and setting up industries for manufacturing diabetic and other health foods and medicines.

Diabetes care 

centres have been established all over the country with local entrepreneurs, and now there are 59 branches in 59 district headquarters and 2 sub affiliated centres in Satkania and Bheramara.

Dr. Mohammad Ibrahim died on September 6, 1989. His death anniversary is observed as Diabetic Service Day (Sheba Divash) to endorse and honour his great contribution to socio-medicare services.

The writer is Chief Coordinator, Diabetic Association of Bangladesh.

Source: The Daily Star, Dhaka

This Prof Ibrahim is also a social worker having a great contribution too. He is the brother of Prof M Yunus, the Nobel Laureate, and is very well living.