Random Quote #8

Excerpt

Prologue

Hashtian, Iran – Summer

The night air was full of heat and promise as Shahram “Ram” Zare slammed his brother’s car door shut, hammering two slaps on the roof with a wide grin. He could not believe it—his brother was really married.

Even at twenty-two, Ram felt such pride at Javad’s accomplishments and success. A bride named Aveen. What a beauty, too.

A wistful kind of ache settled in Ram’s chest, wondering when it would be his turn. Not that he necessarily wanted the whole responsibility of a wife and children on his shoulders right now, but his parents wanted the whole package for him. And family ruled supreme in the Middle East, but he hoped he could put it off another couple of years. He wanted to go to medical school.

His cousin, Saied, yanked on his arm, yammering out, “Let’s go!” in Kurdish with a smile that went on forever. The guy had more teeth than a lion, and Ram followed him to his car, his step light, nearly floating.

Tonight, they were celebrating!

Other cars peeled out down the dusty road ahead of them in a furious rush with long beeps of their car horns.

Custom dictated the entire family escort the bride and groom home, but they still had an hour’s drive before reaching their destination. Not a problem. They could roll down the windows, turn up their Kurdish music, and honk their horns all the way back to Urmia.

They took off.

Yet it was minutes later when Saied slammed on the brakes, his voice filled the air with obscenities.

All the cars, which had left before them, were stopped in a deranged mess of chaos. It took Ram all of a second to realize Javad’s car was smashed up with steam wafting up into the summer air.

He leaped out of his cousin’s car, running. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, dark fear suffocating him. A million thoughts scrambled through his mind. Where was Javad? Was he all right?

Ram bypassed other family members, ignoring their dazed expressions and fierce yelling. He was only concerned about one thing: his brother.

Before he reached Javad’s car, Saleh, his uncle, stepped in his path, shooting off in rapid Kurdish, “They’re gone, Shahram. They were lying in wait for them.”

A measure of sanity stuttered through Ram’s brain, finally turning away from the smashed, empty car to look at his uncle. “Who…? What are you saying?”

“We were right behind them. Javad and Aveen were ambushed. Some men forced them out of their car with guns before we could reach them.”

What…?

Shahram did not wait for more details, shoving off the concerned voices faster than mud off his shoe. There was no time. His eyes sought the first available car, jumping in. Several family members tried to stop him, but he could not wait, and Saied slid into the passenger seat… always his wingman.

He started the car with shaky hands, peeling out, and the squeal of the tires reverberated off the cracked, potholed pavement.

Javad needed him.

Speeding down the road, his heart thundered in time with the rising car gauge…

Chapter 1

Tampa, Florida – January

Ram jerked awake, his eyes burning against the sunlight streaming through the windows. Sweat beaded his forehead, his hair was drenched, and his heart thundered through his chest.

He had dreamed it again!

The same gut-wrenching nightmare he wished he could forget. It was the reason he was in this room, away from everything familiar. He would have thought five years would have erased the vividness, but it had not.

Ram blinked several times, willing the darkness back into the shadows. He would not contemplate the level of blood, pain, and suffering surrounding his past.

People died.

A great deal of time, money, and finagling went into creating a new existence in America, though nothing limited his nightmares from entertaining the demons dancing through his dreams. His mind was their playground, pulling him under with frequent enthusiasm.

He angled his head to the left, and red panties dangled off the lamp. He sighed. Alyssa had stayed the night.

Closing his eyes, memories of last night came crashing back to him. The club. The jackass who had pulled a knife. How he had intervened.

The night had begun pleasantly until some drunken loser thought himself king over all females, refusing to take no for an answer. Another random guy went to help, ignoring the bouncers threading through the crowd to take care of the problem. The next thing Ram knew, fists were flying right and left, tables were smashed, and a few bodies were thrown through the glass windows.

The idiot, who had started the fight, yanked a knife from his boot, and that was when Ram had stepped in. Fists were one thing, but a weapon? Not on his watch. He was not scared; he had bravery oozing from his Kurdish pores.

The loser had managed to sink his knife into Mr. Chivalrous. Then, the police had arrived, and he had needed an escape from the violence.

Alyssa had been convenient.

He knew he should not mix business with pleasure, but all his common sense bit the dust after the night’s upheaval. While he should have cared she was a barmaid at the club, he had needed a distraction, and she was definitely that.

Restless, he shifted on the bed, realizing he was barely covered. Yeah, the black sheets were in chaotic disarray. Alyssa shifted beside him, a wanton gleam in her brown eyes.

Inside a sigh, Ram glanced at the wall clock across the room. He was supposed to meet his brother, Javad, down at the club in ten minutes. There was nothing worse than catching hell from his older brother. He was rigid ever since they had fled the Middle East. Rightly so, Ram guessed. He was dealing with his own memory of that time. His nightmares proved that, but he dealt with it. Or at least, masked his ghosts with endless women.

Javad would have to wait.

****

Mia Phillips was late—again! Barefoot, she rushed through the apartment she shared with her mother and cousin. Her long, dark hair was a wet mess, buttoning her jeans and balancing her purse as she went.

She could not afford to be late again. Though her bosses, Steve and his wife, Vicky, were understanding enough, her sense of right and wrong made her a bit obsessive compulsive. She hated for anyone to look down on her or to criticize her work ethic. It grated on her nerves. Shamed her even.

“Whoa, where are you going in such a hurry, Speed Bump?”

Mia slammed her purse down on the breakfast bar, out of breath, not bothering to look at her cousin JB.

She pulled her scrunchy off her wrist, working her damp hair up into a ponytail. “Work and I’m late.”

JB grunted. “How many times does that make this week?”

Three. She rolled her eyes, wincing as her fingernail snagged in her wet hair, nearly scalping herself. “Can we not do this now?” Her eyes landed on his T-shirt, ‘Mad as a hatter… and twice as twisted.’ How appropriate, she mused, finally looking at him.

Jacob Broward Phillips was a great big teddy bear all wrapped up in sweetness and bright red hair. He lived with her and her mother since fall, having recently obtained his CPA license, helping with the bills and rent. JB had a quirky sense of humor and the greatest obsession for Duck Dynasty. They rarely hung out or had anything in common, but he loved his family, and Mia was grateful for his presence.

He chuckled. “You know, most people use alarm clocks to wake up on time. I should know, mine works great.”

Grabbing clean socks out of her purse, Mia twisted up on a barstool, and yanked them on. “Thanks, but that’s hardly helpful right now.”

Moving toward the front door, she shoved her feet into her red, faded Chucks, working them on over her heels.

“Yep,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee, scanning the morning paper.

Mia wished she could do that, drink coffee and read the newspaper, but JB took off Wednesday mornings to look after her mother, Natalie Phillips, who suffered from stage IV ovarian cancer. The prognosis was not good and she had a home health nurse, Susan, to care for her except for today. She had the morning off and Mia’s helpful, but often sweetly sarcastic cousin, stepped into help.

She worked for French Maid Cleaning Service for the last four years. It had started out as a part time gig, making a few extra dollars while in college, but then her dad had died in a car accident, leaving her to care for her ailing mother. She’d had two years of college under her belt when hell unloaded, and no time or money to continue her education.

Now, at twenty-two, more dreams were squashed, more goals were squandered. She could not even contemplate when the black cloud would lift. That would mean… her mother would be gone. And that was unacceptable. Mia was hoping to get her into an experimental treatment program, but she had not received word on the approval.

“Hey, is your crew still cleaning that nightclub Starzzz?” JB asked.

“Uh-huh,” she murmured, tucking her black, knit shirt into the waistband of her jeans. “Why?”

“They’re in the newspaper. They had a police raid down there last night.”

She stilled. Worry clouded her expression. “What for? Does it say?”

Mia walked closer, peering over JB’s shoulder at the paper. Her eyes scanned the headline, Starzzz and Bars? Someone had the demented wherewithal to make a joke.

“A fight between customers. Some guy pulled a knife and all hell broke loose. Be careful down there.”

Mia patted his burly arm. “Don’t worry, the place is a graveyard while we’re there.”

He tilted his head to the side, rubbing his clean-shaven face. “Still, watch your back.”

“I will. Gotta go,” Mia said, scooping her phone and keys off the bar, tossing her stuff in her purse, and moved toward the door. “God, mornings really should be moved to a more convenient time of day.”

A deep rumble filled his chest. “Dude, alarm clock.”

She gave a frustrated sigh, reaching for a jacket off the tree stand, shrugging into it. “Thanks, Mr. Helpful.”

JB peered over his husky shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Always,” he said with a grin. “You do know that’s my jacket, don’t you?”

Mia looked down, realizing she wore his oversized, yet deliciously warm jacket. The sleeves hung over her hands and the ends hit her thighs. “Sorry, no time to change,” she said, reaching for the doorknob.

“Have a good one, Speed Bump.”

As Mia closed the door, she stilled. She had not stopped to see her mother before leaving and a quick glance at her watch revealed she was really late now. She would have to call her later.

Fishing her phone out of her purse, she hit Steve’s cell and made her way downstairs, but Vicky answered, “Hi, sweetie pie. Are you on the way?”

“God, I’m sorry, yes,” Mia said, wishing she had taken a more professional tone instead of whiny.

Granted, working for a cleaning service was not her finest moment, but she had the most understanding employers and the work was honest. She had no desire to tick them off unnecessarily.

“Hush now. Steve and I know what you’re going through with your mom. How was she last night?”

Mia hated to think about it, much less explain it. “Bad. She had another round of chemo yesterday and spent the rest of the night… you know…” she trailed off, trying to block out the memory of the sickness dogging her mother. Her blessedly sweet mom, she never thought to see suffer in such a way. “She finally dropped off to sleep around four this morning. I think I crawled into bed soon after.” Tears, she rarely allowed to fall, stung her eyes.

“Oh, hon, what can I do?”

The last thing Mia needed was sympathy. She could not hack it, not when tears were a drop away.

“Thanks, Vicky, but it is okay.” Right, nice lie. “Are you already down at Starzzz? JB read in the newspaper where they had some excitement last night.” A smooth topic change, she hoped.

Vicky sighed. “Yeah, and it’s a ruckus down here. The whole front of the club is shredded, but Mr. Zare is paying big bucks to get the repairs finished before they open tonight.”

“What happened? JB said some guy pulled a knife.”

Her voice dropped low, “The guy got his ass up over a girl, and they beat the shit out of each other. From what I heard, a few bouncers were injured, glass flew, and tables were smashed— a real free for all! Then, one guy pulled a knife, stabbing someone. Steve has been working on removing the blood stain, but I’m not sure it will come up completely,” Vicky said as if a distant afterthought.

Horror filled Mia. “Did the guy die?” she asked hoarsely.

“No, poor bastard. But the good news is, the police managed to arrest the stabber.” She sighed. “So, between us, some carpenters and new glass installation, things are pretty intense. Come join the fun, sweetie pie, as soon as you can,” she said. As if on cue, the sound of a drill lit up in the background. “Oh, you might want to come in through the back entrance to avoid the glass we haven’t been able to clean because the hot workers deemed it off limits until they’ve completed their work. A couple of the hotties are shirtless and I’m trying to contain my enthusiasm from Steve, but I’m pretty sure he saw me ogling them.”

Digging her keys out of her purse, Mia opened the door of her economic but crappy car and swung in. She laughed with her employer. “Really? Shirtless?”

She knew how proper and put-together Mr. Zare always appeared, and she could not imagine him allowing anyone to walk around shirtless. The man was a stickler for proper dress in his club with staff or workers, and she never saw him in anything but a suit—gorgeous that he was.

Though he was the ultimate sin candy for the eyes, he was completely hard around the edges. She envied the woman he found to take him on.

“Nah, not shirtless, but I wish. I have to say though, the carpenter guys have the best pecs. Hurry up before they leave. No woman should miss such a fine display of male flesh. It’s a feast, I tell you!” Vicky gushed with another peal of laughter.

“On my way. Be there in twenty.”

Mia settled into her beater mobile, cranking it up and flipping on the heat. She was lucky the heater still worked at all. Her little car was at least thirteen years old. As she moved out of the parking space, her car backfired, and she shook her head, gritting her teeth in embarrassment. She really needed a new car, but with no extra funds, this got her from point A to B. Mia hoped that by the time she arrived at Starzzz, no one was around.

However, as she pulled into the back parking lot, her embarrassment resurfaced with a hard punch, flaming her cheeks. She had to turn off her car, and when she did, two significant pops would fill the air. Her car sounded like a drive by shooting.

And there stood Ram Zare, leaning against his black Audi with his arm wrapped around a woman, and not just any woman. She was Alyssa, a barmaid at Starzzz. The woman pushed the limits, wearing a sequined bra under every shirt with a nasty disposition. Vicky started referring to her as Ms. Skittle Boobs.

Mia couldn’t be certain from this angle, but his other hand looked to be on her breast? Perfect. He was tasting the rainbow in the parking lot.

Book Release: A Serenade with Beauty (A Kurdish Love Story) by Beth Mikell

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 Amazon *Free to read on Kindle Unlimited*

A window opens into the soul of a Kurdish heart…

Shahram “Ram” Zare carries a dark secret—shadows of unresolved pain. Five years earlier, he and his brother fled their home country after a tribal war, but now, the ghosts have settled, and their uncle travels to the US, hoping to encourage the brothers to marry. And Ram has been charged with finding a pseudo-fiancée for his older brother, Javad. His search leads him to a beautiful woman. He hesitates to ask her to be a pawn in such an archaic system of duty, especially as his heart grows deeper in love with her.

As Mia Phillips watches her mother slip away from cancer, she bows under the pressure of unpaid bills and heartache. No amount of soul searching fills her empty bank account… or her indecision over the most breathtaking man. Ram offers her a life change, yet not with him—a fake marriage of convenience to his brother. Javad is too hard and rigid, but Ram… he is the other half of her soul. Yet they must remain friends to make the lie seem real. Or will they?

Everything comes down to propriety, honor, and the right to choose the love of their hearts…

Pinterest Storyboard

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Story Tags: Kurdish romance; contemporary; multicultural; interracial; novel

*Publishing changes. Please note, this book has a new cover and will be reflected in Amazon’s system in a few days.

Prologue for A Serenade with Beauty (A Kurdish Love Story)

Coming February 16th…

A novel highlighting Kurdish culture…

Prologue

Hashtian, Iran – Summer

The night air was full of heat and promise as Shahram “Ram” Zare slammed his brother’s car door shut, hammering two slaps on the roof with a wide grin. He could not believe it—his brother was really married.

Even at twenty-two, Ram felt such pride at Javad’s accomplishments and success. A bride named Aveen. What a beauty, too.

A wistful kind of ache settled in Ram’s chest, wondering when it would be his turn. Not that he necessarily wanted the whole responsibility of a wife and children on his shoulders right now, but his parents wanted the whole package for him. And family ruled supreme in the Middle East, but he hoped he could put it off another couple of years. He wanted to go to medical school.

His cousin, Saied, yanked on his arm, yammering out, “Let’s go!” in Kurdish with a smile that went on forever. The guy had more teeth than a lion, and Ram followed him to his car, his step light, nearly floating.

Tonight, they were celebrating!

Other cars peeled out down the dusty road ahead of them in a furious rush with long beeps of their car horns.

Custom dictated the entire family escort the bride and groom home, but they still had an hour’s drive before reaching their destination. Not a problem. They could roll down the windows, turn up their Kurdish music, and honk their horns all the way back to Urmia.

They took off.

Yet it was minutes later when Saied slammed on the brakes, his voice filled the air with obscenities.

All the cars, which had left before them, were stopped in a deranged mess of chaos. It took Ram all of a second to realize Javad’s car was smashed up with steam wafting up into the summer air.

He leaped out of his cousin’s car, running. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, dark fear suffocating him. A million thoughts scrambled through his mind. Where was Javad? Was he all right?

Ram bypassed other family members, ignoring their dazed expressions and fierce yelling. He was only concerned about one thing: his brother.

Before he reached Javad’s car, Saleh, his uncle, stepped in his path, shooting off in rapid Kurdish, “They’re gone, Shahram. They were lying in wait for them.”

A measure of sanity stuttered through Ram’s brain, finally turning away from the smashed, empty car to look at his uncle. “Who…? What are you saying?”

“We were right behind them. Javad and Aveen were ambushed. Some men forced them out of their car with guns before we could reach them.”

What…?

Shahram did not wait for more details, shoving off the concerned voices faster than mud off his shoe. There was no time. His eyes sought the first available car, jumping in. Several family members tried to stop him, but he could not wait, and Saied slid into the passenger seat… always his wingman.

He started the car with shaky hands, peeling out, and the squeal of the tires reverberated off the cracked, potholed pavement.

Javad needed him.

Speeding down the road, his heart thundered in time with the rising car gauge…

ASerenadewithBeauty

Shahram “Ram” Zare carries a dark secret—shadows of unresolved pain. Five years earlier, he and his brother fled the Kurdish region of Iran over a tribal war, but now, the ghosts have settled, and their uncle travels to the US, hoping to encourage the brothers to marry. And Ram has been charged with finding a pseudo-fiancée for his older brother, Javad. His search leads him to a beautiful woman. He hesitates to ask her to be a pawn in such an archaic system of duty, especially as his heart grows deeper in love with her.

As Mia Phillips watches her mother slip away from cancer, she bows under the pressure of unpaid bills and heartache. No amount of soul searching fills her empty bank account… or her indecision over the most breathtaking man. Ram offers her a life change, yet not with him—a fake marriage of convenience to his brother. Javad is too hard and rigid, but Ram… he is the other half of her soul. Yet they must remain friends to make the lie seem real. Or will they?

Everything comes down to propriety, honor, and the right to choose the love of their hearts…

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*Subject to change prior to publishing*

Coming Soon: A Serenade with Beauty (A Kurdish Love Story)

Coming February 16, 2016

ASerenadewithBeauty

 

Shahram “Ram” Zare carries a dark secret—shadows of unresolved pain. Five years earlier, he and his brother fled the Kurdish region of Iran over a tribal war, but now, the ghosts have settled, and their uncle travels to the US, hoping to encourage the brothers to marry. And Ram has been charged with finding a pseudo-fiancée for his older brother, Javad. His search leads him to a beautiful woman. He hesitates to ask her to be a pawn in such an archaic system of duty, especially as his heart grows deeper in love with her.

As Mia Phillips watches her mother slip away from cancer, she bows under the pressure of unpaid bills and heartache. No amount of soul searching fills her empty bank account… or her indecision over the most breathtaking man. Ram offers her a life change, yet not with him—a fake marriage of convenience to his brother. Javad is too hard and rigid, but Ram… he is the other half of her soul. Yet they must remain friends to make the lie seem real. Or will they?

Everything comes down to propriety, honor, and the right to choose the love of their hearts…

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Pre-Order on Amazon!

A New Kind of Romance

Everyday, my fingers are flying over the keyboard. This story is taking shape and surprising me. I’m so excited! I still have a bit more to go, but I am 3/4 finished. I’m pioneering a new kind of love story, something I’ve never seen in fiction, I know because I’ve searched all over the web. I’m going to introduce you to a new culture–a new kind of romance. I’ll go ahead a give you a little information. It’s called, A Serenade with Beauty: A Kurdish Love Story. Check out the blurb. I’ll do an official cover reveal soon…

Shahram “Ram” Zare carries a dark secret—shadows of unresolved pain. Five years earlier, he and his brother fled the Kurdish region of Iran over a tribal war, but now, the ghosts have settled, and their uncle travels to the US, hoping to encourage the brothers to marry. And Ram has been charged with finding a pseudo-fiancée for his older brother, Javad. His search leads him to a beautiful woman. He hesitates to ask her to be a pawn in such an archaic system of duty, especially as his heart grows deeper in love with her.

As Mia Phillips watches her mother slip away from cancer, she bows under the pressure of unpaid bills and heartache. No amount of soul searching fills her empty bank account… or her indecision over the most breathtaking man. Ram offers her a life change, yet not with him—a fake marriage of convenience to his brother. Javad is too hard and rigid, but Ram… he is the other half of her soul. Yet they must remain friends to make the lie seem real. Or will they?

Everything comes down to propriety, honor, and the right to choose the love of their hearts…

*Subject to change prior to publishing*

Story Tags: Kurdish romance; contemporary; multicultural; interracial; novel

Kurdish Music 101

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In my upcoming book, Shahram – A Kurdish Love Story, my hero is Kurdish, and he grew up in the west of Iran. To make it easy, his nickname is Ram and I’m going to let him tell you about some of his favorite music. Before he arrives, here’s a small excerpt from my book of what he looks like…

Ram Zare was still leaned up against the hood of his car with a sexy grin curving his lips. Nope, she wasn’t that lucky to go unnoticed. The guy was desire, lust, and sin from the top of his dark, overlong hair to his scrumptious body, and silky brown gaze. She hated how her eyes zeroed in on his black leather jacket, emphasizing his hard chest. Of course, they’d barely spoken outside his sensual grin and her awkwardness, but the man oozed all kinds of carnal appeal that should be illegal.

–Mia Phillips

Me: Hello, Ram. Thanks for stopping by today.

Ram: Salam. Thank you for inviting me. I appreciate the opportunity.

Me. Well, it’s great you’re here. I wanted to introduce you to everyone before your story hits.

Ram: (flashes a smile) Anytime.

Me. So, I was hoping you would share some insight into Kurdish music. Would you share the basics?

Ram: To keep it simple, there are three basic kinds: storytellers, minstrels and bards. These are considered to be classical. There are some heroic ballads about Kurdish heroes and love ballads expressing the pain of separation and unfulfilled love. And some religious, love songs, and dance. Wedding songs are very popular too.

Me: I see you brought along some samples. What is the first one?

Ram: This is a song typically played in weddings when the bride arrives. It’s called Şemmame by popular singer, Ibrahim Tatlises. In this video, you get a sense of the happy times a wedding is for families.

Me: Awesome. Love the dancing too. It’s so lively and happy.

Ram: Kurds love to dance—especially at weddings.

Me: Wait…? I heard they love to dance anytime.

Ram: (grins) Yes, you heard right.

Me: What does Şemmame mean?

Ram: Well, here’s the translation. I hope it’s not too complicated. (He winks)

Şemmamê Şemmamê Şemmamê bûkê

—- şemmam is a type of melon, but is also used to refer to the breasts of a young woman which should be the case in this song, bûk = bride. Şemmamê is also the name for a girl.

 

Me: Thank you for that. (trying not to blush) Okay, so what is the second example?

Ram: This one is more modern. It’s by two singers who are very popular in the Middle East: Jamshid and Mansour. The song is called Naz Maka, and it’s a very happy song, though the video doesn’t show traditional Kurdish culture. It’s probably more for the upcoming generation, but it is in the Kurdish language with a few lines of Farsi/Persian. It’s one of my favorites.

Me: Oh, that is high energy!! LOVE IT!! What does Naz Maka mean?

Ram: (he laughs heartily) It means… don’t be spoiled. You never know what kind of song will hold a few surprises. Asking a girl not to be spoiled is one of them.

Me: Oh, really? Do you have anyone in particular in mind?

Ram: Of course I do, but I’m not telling you. (he winks)

Me: Why not? This would be a great way to share a bit about yourself.

Ram: (nods) I agree, but I’m not feeling it.

Me: (I resist the urge to roll my eyes, looking thoughtful) I see you brought us a final song to look at. What is this?

Ram: This… (he pauses, his face softening)

Me: Ram?

Ram: This is called Delale. Just listen…

Me: It’s beautiful. What does Delale mean?

Ram: It means “My love.” It is written and produced by: Saam Moosa. Here… I also brought the translation:

I can’t wait to hear your voice, I’m yearning to see you

I missed you a lot, and are waiting here until you coming back

So many days have passed, I’m home alone,

Bored and counting every minute

My heart wears your name

Our love is endless

There is no girl like you

My love is infinitely great

My love, my darling

My Sweetheart My wife and friend

When will you reach me I cant wait no more

Please run faster to me, my Love, my darling

The sun is shining down on me when you smile, when you leave, it turns dark

Your warmth is like the summer, your every touch is lovable

You really deserve all my love, You mean the world to me

My love, my darling.

My heart wears your name

Our love is endless

There is no girl like you

My love is infinitely great

My love, my darling

My Sweetheart, my wife and friend

When will you reach me, I can’t wait no more

Please run faster to me, My Love, my darling

As long as I live, my heart will always be yours

As long as I live, my soul will always be yours

My love, my darling

My Sweetheart, my wife and friend

When will you reach me, I can’t wait no more

Please run faster to me, My Love, my darling

Me: That is very beautiful, Ram. Thank you for sharing this with us today.

Ram: My pleasure. It is very special to me.

Me: Oh? Why is that?

Ram: (he hesitates) Well, if I tell you now, then I’ll be giving away something too soon. Trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.

Me: Ok. Cryptic and vague, but thank you all the same. (slight pause) I appreciate you stopping by and giving us a flash insight into the various Kurdish music out there. I’m sure there’s more, but what you shared has been beautiful.

Ram: It’s been an honor to share. I’ve only shown you three of my favorites. Kurdish music spans different types and meanings. Our music is steeped in history. Some sad, some happy. No matter where a Kurd lives in the world, we all keep the beauty of music in our hearts. That’s not simple words, but a fact. And thank you for having me.

Me: Goodbye, Ram–

Ram: Wait, I brought you a final video.

Me: Really? That’s wonderful. What is it?

Ram: It’s at a Kurdish wedding in Iran. The men love to dance like this after lunch. Tell me what you think.

Me: Oooooo, I loved it! They really look like they are having fun. I appreciate the small surprise at the end.

Ram. Happy to share some of my favorites with you.

Me. I’ll be seeing you soon to discuss more on your book.

Ram: I’m ready when you are. Take care, Beth Jaan. Khodahafez.

**Thank you for stopping by, dear reader. I hope you enjoyed a little insight into Kurdish music from Ram’s point of view.**