The Santoor Player of Belgrade

He stands two meters tall, bakes his own barbari bread in Belgrade, and taught himself the santoor without a teacher. Meet the Serbian professor who found his second home in Isfahan.

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I started learning Persian exactly 25 years ago. Two months before I started Farsi, I saw an ad at the Belgrade Book Fair: “Let’s learn Persian.” I had no idea what Persian was—I didn’t even know this language existed. I thought, I’ll go to the Iranian Cultural Center to see what this Persian is like, and then decide whether to continue or not. And that’s how it began.

The course was called Āzfa—short for Āmuzesh-e Zaban-e Fārsi (Learning the Persian Language)—and it had four levels, which took about four years.

In the first level, I found Persian wasn’t too difficult. Maybe that was because my teacher was very smart and explained everything so well. But the second level showed me it was, in fact, quite hard. Because I saw it was hard, I kept going—I’ve always loved a challenge, I don’t like easy.

People here speak English, Italian, Spanish, or German. I also know Greek, which is considered one of the harder languages, but Persian is much harder. And because it’s hard, it fascinates me.

When I finished the fourth level, the head of the cultural center asked if I’d like to go to Iran for a Persian language and literature course. I said I would. So, in February 2004, I went to Iran.

Because I’m afraid of flying, I wanted to go to Iran by bus. But at the time, I was told there were problems in Turkey due to heavy snowfall, and I might not be able to get through. So I ended up going by plane.

I arrived in Tehran at 3 a.m. My Persian teacher and his brother were waiting for me. We drove around the city until 5 a.m.—the streets were very empty. We grabbed something to eat, and I went to the Faculty of Literature at the University of Tehran.

You could say my first impression of the city was quite negative, because I was alone, had just come from Serbia, and didn’t know anyone except my teacher and his brother. When they left, I didn’t know what to do or whether I should call someone or what.

I stepped outside and saw a few women heading to the mosque. I’m not religious, so seeing religious people felt strange to me.

But when I met the professors at the Faculty of Literature and we started talking, I realized everything in Iran was normal. After that, I had no problems. Although my first impression was negative, my opinion changed after just one day, and everything was fine. Our residence was across from the University of Tehran, on a little alley called 16,000. I think the building belonged to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and it was only a two-minute walk from there to the university.

Valiasr Street was full of different shops, very modern. I remember it being both beautiful and very long, stretching all the way to the north of Tehran. My roommate was Ukrainian. He loved hiking and walking, and we would go for long walks together—15 kilometers, sometimes even 20.

One time, we went to Tajrish, and on the way back to the university, we got a taxi. The driver was a lady. She asked us where we were from. I said I was from Serbia, and he was from Ukraine. She said, “I have two daughters—if you want to get married, give me a call!” She meant we could go to Khastegari (a ceremony to ask for a girl’s hand in marriage) and get married in Iran!

At that time, my Persian wasn’t very good, but people were surprised. Of course, they could tell I was a foreigner because I’m two meters tall, but I tried to speak only in Persian. Then they would say, “No, he’s not a foreigner; he’s Iranian.”

Tehran has two and a half times the population of Serbia. This was the first difference I noticed. The second difference was that Tehran is very large, meaning we don’t have a city like Tehran in Europe. The third difference was that it’s very dirty, not because you see trash in the streets, but because almost everyone owns a car, everyone is outside, and there is traffic everywhere. Belgrade is also dirty, but you could say Tehran is dirtier.

I found it interesting that Tehran has a lot of parks; Belgrade isn’t like that. It also has some very interesting museums, like the Carpet Museum and the Museum of Contemporary Arts. I don’t think Belgrade has more than five or six museums, but in Tehran, each district might have five museums. The food is much more diverse than here. I love Iranian food—rice, koobideh kebab, barg kebab, and any dish made with eggplant.

I cook Persian food myself. Barbari bread was the very first Iranian thing I made. I made Barbari this morning: flour, sugar, salt, yeast, a little butter, black sesame, and white sesame—that’s it. Then I put it in the oven. I used to make it with baking soda, but now I see butter makes it much better and tastier. 

Just recently, I made halva—homemade halva! I also make baklava with almonds, rosewater, and cardamom. I have made sonati ice cream with raw pistachios. I want to make faloudeh as well, but haven’t had the chance yet. I don’t think it will be very difficult; I want to try it and see how it turns out. A friend of mine brought me herbs and spices for ghormeh sabzi from France, but I haven’t cooked it yet. I’ve made Koofteh Tabrizi—it’s excellent! I brought some for my colleagues, and they really liked it. They keep asking when I will make it again because it was excellent. I say, “Well, it’s an Iranian dish, so of course it has to be excellent.”

Most of my Iranian friends are from Belgrade, but I’ve also made a few friends in Iran. I’ve been to Iran several times; except for the first time, all the other trips I went by bus, because when you travel by bus, you get to talk with different people along the way. I’m still in contact with some of those people. In 2017 or 2018, I was a guide for Iranians coming to Belgrade, and I made friends with some of those travelers, too.

I don’t think there is a big difference between Iranians and Serbs. I have been to Turkey, Iran, Egypt, Macedonia, and several other countries, and I feel we are all one family—from here all the way to Bangladesh even. The differences between us are very, very small. Apart from religion and language, I think ninety percent of us are the same. Like the Saadi poem (Human beings are members of a whole, In creation of one essence and soul).

They could tell I was a foreigner because I’m two meters tall, but I tried to speak only in Persian. Then they would say, ‘No, he’s not a foreigner; he’s Iranian.’

Reading Persian poetry is very difficult for non-Iranians; someone definitely needs to explain it. I’ve noticed that sometimes it’s even hard for Iranians. My favorite poet is Ferdowsi. But my favorite verse is [from Saadi] “ta mard sokhan nagofteh bashad, eyb va honarash nahofteh bashad” (Until a man speaks, his fault and art stay hidden). 

You can’t say that poems translated into English are the same as their Persian originals. A poem translated into English or any other language no longer conveys the full meaning of the Persian.

I love Iranian music too. In 2001 or 2002, I asked the cultural center to give me a tape or CD of Iranian music, and they did. I went home and listened. I heard an instrument that was very unique and beautiful, but I didn’t know what it was. I went back to the cultural center and asked; they told me it was a santoor. I didn’t know what that was. At that time, there was no YouTube to help me find more information. I told myself that one day I would buy this instrument and try to learn how to play it.

I went to Iran for a seminar in 2015. I am a professor at the Faculty of Agriculture. After the seminar, I talked with a friend who was also a professor and told him I wanted to buy a santoor. He said he wasn’t familiar with santoor and that we should ask around to see which one is better and which one has good quality. I told him I just wanted it for myself, to try playing at home. We went and bought the santoor. I returned to Serbia, but there was no one there to talk to about it because Europe is completely unaware of this instrument and doesn’t know what it is.

Then a music ensemble from Isfahan came to Belgrade, and one of the IRNA reporters who was here at the time told me to definitely go meet them and ask about the santoor. I went there and one of the musicians tuned my santoor, and we became friends. I wanted to pay him, but he said no, I don’t want money, we are good. I said, “Alright, then I’ll make baklava for you in return.” He agreed. I went home, made Iranian baklava, and brought it to him. They went to Istanbul later, and he messaged me from there and said he had eaten the entire two and a half kilos of baklava! I said, “Really? The whole two and a half kilos?” He said, “Yes, it was very delicious; I ate it all!”

Two years later, I went to Iran for another seminar and stayed at the home of that same friend in Isfahan. He said, “Let’s go have some baklava.” We went and had baklava with walnuts. I said, “This isn’t real baklava; I’ll make some for you.” So we bought rose water, almonds, and the necessary ingredients, and I made baklava at his house in Isfahan. He ate it all, but I didn’t—because I don’t really love baklava, though I enjoy making it.

Afterward, my friend and I went to see a santoor master, and he gave me a book and a CD to learn it. I had to teach myself because there are no santoor teachers here. So I learned it on my own. I think I’ve reached an advanced level with santoor, as I have practically finished the two or three instructional books I had. I downloaded some of these books from Telegram. I’ve learned about two hundred or so different pieces, both short and long. My favorite piece is “Rang-e Dashti” by Habib Sama’ai. I think I have to go to Iran again and take a few private lessons from santoor masters so they can teach me to tune it and help me buy advanced instructional books.

As for modern Iranian music, I like Moein. Songs like “Kol Donyami,” “Tanaaz,” and “Yade To.” Hayedeh’s “Shab-e Eshgh” is amazing, Mahasti’s “Zendegi,” Javad Yasari’s “Lab-e Teshne,” Ahmad Azad’s “Room Nemishe,” and….

If I were to describe Iran to someone who has never been there, I would say it is a very large and beautiful country—a historic land with statues and monuments over 500 years old. It has a very ancient and rich civilization, excellent food, and wonderful people. I would describe everything positively. Of course, I would also tell them not to believe the negative propaganda from television and mass media because they do not show the real Iran and its people.

Iranian people used to be religious, but I see now that many have grown to dislike religion. None of my friends go to the mosque. None of them believes that the Iranian government is good. No one says that Iran should interfere in other countries. None of them support the government. In other words, the people are one thing, and the government is something else entirely. But people outside the country don’t know this.

When I was traveling from Tehran to Mashhad, there was a man on the train who asked me where I was from. I said, “Former Yugoslavia, Serbia.” He asked, “Are you Serbian?” I said yes. Then he asked, “Why did you do those things in Bosnia?” I replied, “I didn’t do anything myself; I didn’t go to war. But yes, Serbia was involved. Just like Iran, Russia, and Germany were involved [in conflicts]—it’s the same thing.”

I asked him, “Do you think Serbs are bad?” He said, “No, no, sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

I said, “But maybe because of the mass media, you think I’m bad. But the mass media says the same thing about you—they say you are bad.” He said, “No, I’m not bad.”

I said the mass media is like a central source that spreads propaganda everywhere. They say we are bad, and they say you (Iranians) are bad. They say you are terrorists, but I’ve traveled five thousand kilometers across Iran and haven’t met a single terrorist. If that were true, I wouldn’t be alive. He said, “You’re right.”

I told him, “We have to look at it this way: unfortunately, there is a central source that says we —us, you, and the others—are bad. But in reality, we are not bad.” And that’s how our conversation ended.

The first time I went to Iran, I had read in Serbian newspapers that on 22 Bahman, people in Iran gather in front of the U.S. Embassy in Tehran and throw various stones they’ve brought inside the embassy. I took a stone weighing about half a kilo or a kilo—not a small one—and brought it with me to Iran. Nobody at the airport noticed the stone, and I brought it to Tehran.

When I finished my Persian language course, I talked to my professors and said I wanted to go there and throw the stone inside. They said, “Baba, that’s no longer an embassy; soldiers are there, and you can’t go inside.” I said, “You don’t understand how upset people in Serbia will be if I can’t put this stone inside the U.S. Embassy!” They said, “No, no, it’s not possible.”

Anyway, I threw the stone into an alley.  I realized it was a lie, but that’s what the newspapers had written.

I have been to many cities—Tehran, Tabriz, Zanjan, Shiraz, Yazd, Babolsar, and Mashhad—but Isfahan is something else for me. Isfahan is my number one city, my number two, three, four, and five. It’s in my heart.

In Shiraz, I visited Persepolis, Pasargadae, and Naqsh-e Rostam, which were very interesting. I also went to Vakil Bazaar, which was beautiful. But I simply cannot describe the beauty of Naqsh-e Jahan Square in Isfahan. I got lost three times in the bazaar there and asked people how to get out, and they guided me. It was very fascinating and beautiful. Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque, Ali Qapu Palace, Si-o-se-pol Bridge, and Khaju Bridge—all of it is stunning.

Isfahan is really “Half of the World.” The last time I was there was six years ago. On the very day I arrived, water returned to the Zayandeh River, and my friend told me that because I came to Isfahan, the government had allowed the river to fill with water! The whole city had gathered there, celebrating the water’s return.

We share many cultural and linguistic similarities; did you know that Persian and Serbian have about 800 to 1,000 common words? Words like “azhdaha” (dragon), “moshama” (plastic bag), “abrou” (eyebrow), “devist” (two hundred), “kolahche” (small hat), “fitileh” (wick), “divar” (wall), “shalvar” (pants), and “qashoq” (spoon). We also say “bezan be takhteh” (knock on wood), and it means the same thing in Serbia as in Iran. Or when people meet each other, they kiss three times, just like in Iran. In most of Europe, it’s usually two kisses, but in Serbia and Iran, it’s three.

In Iran, I saw a type of hat and shoes very similar to the traditional hats and shoes of central Serbia, from the Šumadija region. In Shiraz, there is an area called Sarvestan, and some say that Sarvestan and Serbestan (Serbia) sound alike and may be connected—that perhaps we came from there—because their clothes, shoes, and hats are quite similar.

I have heard that when Cyrus and Darius came this way, to northern Greece, people came with the soldiers and settled there. An interesting fact is that we also have a city in southern Serbia called Birat, and its carpet designs are very similar to Iranian carpets, which is quite fascinating.

If I could find a good job, I would love to live in Iran—either in Isfahan or maybe Mashhad. There is an area in Mashhad called Torqabeh where I spent only two hours, but it was very beautiful. The handicrafts, small carpets, everything was wonderful. I don’t quite know how to describe it. I saw people coming from Saudi Arabia, Dubai, and Kuwait to Mashhad to visit the Imam Reza shrine, but Imam Reza might make up only about five percent of the whole city. The rest of the city was very nice to me. Now, I think Imam Reza’s shrine is empty, and most people don’t go there anymore!

One of my friends lives in Mashhad, and his father is a judge. Once when I visited, he told me, “Any problem you have will go away in three minutes, just call me.” I said, “Alright, very good.” This is another one of the similarities between Iran and Serbia: if you know the right people, any problem can be solved in three minutes.

I don’t ever want to live in Tehran because it’s very crowded. Wherever you want to go, it takes three hours. Isfahan is also pretty busy, but not as much as Tehran. I think Mashhad has a metro now. Fifteen years ago, when I was there, they were building the metro, but I don’t know if it’s finished yet.

Right now, my focus is on santoor. I’ve performed a few short concerts in Belgrade, but I was very nervous, much more than I expected. Even though I’m a university professor and I’m used to speaking with students weekly, teaching and attending various meetings, playing the santoor was a different beast. The stress I felt was unbelievably intense.

No one believes that I’ve taught myself to play the santoor. Maybe it’s because of the great love I had for it that I was able to learn. Santoor is love—love and nothing else exists.

If santoor is God, then I’m a believer. If it isn’t, then I’m not.