Fataneh Kasra

At the same time as the 1979 revolution, I immigrated from Iran and settled in America with my spouse and my two daughters, first in Sacramento and later in Los Angeles. As with the other Iranian immigrants who had left their comfortable living conditions in the hope of finding freedom and tranquility while embracing a completely new and unfamiliar environment, I began to work in a newly established record company so that I could help build a new life. After a while, having gained some experience I began to work in a record company called Taraneh. This company was founded by Vartan Avanissian who along with Jahangir Tabarayi initially began to remake and publish songs sung by artists in Pre-Revolutionary Iran, and after a gradual migration of some artists to the United States, he began recording and publishing their new work. 

I was very active in this field and worked hard to advance the art of Iranian music and help those who were involved. Through this endeavor, I managed to get to know Iranian singers, composers, and songwriters. I knew some of of them closely, and some I knew only by their names and through their art. Lila Kasra was part of the second group. I had never met her before, but I had heard her beautiful poems a lot and liked them very much. I had written many articles about the richness of her poetry and poetic power, which had been published in publications such as “Youth.” I knew she was a very capable and talented songwriter. I also knew that she lived in Northern California in a small town called Petaluma and that she was also struggling with a severe illness.

 One day I much to my surprise received a phone call and heard the poet’s voice on the other side of the line. She seemed to know that I worked for Taraneh and was quite familiar with my expertise in advertiseming and public relations for music artists. I was also delighted to hear her voice. She expressed interest in meeting me. Along with her husband Ekandar Afshar, she came to Los Angeles from Northern California. I visited her at the hotel where she was staying. She was an extremely beautiful woman and not even cancer and numerous chemotherapy sessions had managed to diminish her beauty. She was tall and slemder. While she was very serene, she was in full control of herself and the environment around her. 

We talked for a long time. She had read the articles I had written about her and acknowledged them in her conversations with me. We gradually became close. Leila wanted me to be with her all the time. I liked her too and tried to use my professional expertise in a manner that best fitted her and supported the advancement of her career. 

Leila quickly and seriously pursued her work. The singers insisted on performing her songs, and Lila, who was unfamiliar with the atmosphere and artistic environment of the city consulted with me and did not agree to give a song to any singer without seeking my opinion first. In that period, she wrote about sixty songs. She worked with numerous composers and singers, most of whom were and still are the most well-known and popular artists of the time. Leila’s songs were a great boost to the popularity and fame of most singers of her time. Most of these were written at the time of her illness and before her numerous surgeries and hospitalization

The singer Haydee was Lila’s close friend, and her voice was Lila’s favorite. She was truly taken by Hayedeh’s voice. She wrote her most beautiful poems for Hayedeh. Leila’s poems culminate in the transcendence and richness of Hayedeh’s voice.

The first time I talked to Leila, she told me the story of how she wrote her first poem. As she said “I was a noisy and restless girl who studied hard, and this restlessness led me to get bad grades in the seventh grade while attending Anoushirvan Dadgar High School. As a result, I was banned from attending the class for two days. I wrote a few bits of poetry on the blackboard that I cannot recall now. But the theme, which had been written with a rhyme was sufficient to convince me that I had talent and that I did not need good grades and should not be ashamed of being a bad scholar.

Lila’s father Colonel Mahmoud Kasra, also known as Mahmoud Mirza, was one of the descendants of Fathali Shah Qajar. The emblem of the monarchy in this family was hereditary, and today it is in the possession of her brother (my husband) Anushirvan Kasra. Lila really was a princess. She dressed, talked, and vowed her audience. Her beautiful face, the way she carried herself and her general persona would envite people to listen and respect her. Her husband Eskandar loved her and tried in every way to make her wishes come through. I believe Leila was more in love with Eskandar than he was in love with her. Eskandar was the lover and the object of affection in all of Lila’s love songs 

In the final months of her life, Leila was heart-broken and depressed. She was very tired and annoyed with everyone and everything. There were times where I felt as if the spirit of life was escaping in her eyes. She wanted me to throw a large party after her death and to invite all her acquaintances so that they could rejoice her life. She always asked people to take care of her kids. She was especially always worried about her youngest Alidad, who was young and more vulnerable than her other sons Pasha and Johnny. 

The last time she was admitted to UCLA, I was asked to go and visit her, which I quickly did. When she saw me for the last time, she said excitedly:

“Come on, look, my father’s here.” 

And one by one she called on her acquaintances that she would see around her.

“Fataneh, did you say hello to my father?” 

And I responded:

“Hello, Mr. Kasra…”

I could not hold back my tears. I left the room while crying uncontrollably.  Outside the room, the doctor told Eskandar and Anoushirvan that this would be the last night of her life and it would be better for her to spend these last hours at home surrounded by her loved ones. 

She was very alert and aware. I couldn’t fathom that this was the last night of her life. She told me that Pasha’s daughter would be born the next day and to call her “Lila.” 

Pasha’s daughter Lexi was born the next day.

That night they brought Lila home. Those close to her were waiting for her, including her beloved Aunt Molouk, myself, and a pious woman who was an acquaintance of Lila and whom Leila loved very much. She laid down on the couch, and I put a pillow under his head. Upstairs, Eskandar, Anoushirvan, and the children watched television. She asked everyone to come down. All the family members gathered around her. She told Eskandar, “I’m dying, and I have a request, bury me like a Muslim, throw me a party, but don’t mourn. But if you want to mourn me, try to throw a large and well- organized celebration of my life get together. Then as if she was tired, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. 

I was sitting on the floor next to her, holding her hand, my head next to her on the couch and together we went to sleep. 

Suddenly, I woke up feeling cold and terrified of this unusual coldness. Layla’s hand was frozen, crumpled and numb in my hand. Cold Cold…oh, so cold.

Mehdi Zokaei asked me to an write an article as Lila’s obituary for youth magazine and I wrote the following: 

“The eagle that escaped at dawn…”