In his own words: My late father was from Hamamyan and my late mother was from Mallara. Both are from Mahali Bokan, but five of their sons and two daughters are all from Sablagh (Mahabad). So did my two brothers, who died before I could serve them! I was born in the summer of 1962 in the Seashan neighborhood of Mahabad. My father wanted me to become a mullah of the (12 sciences), but I was not happy. I wasn't lucky. I liked music that I didn't get. Also in journalism, which is nothing! I was twelve years old when I became a Kurdish scholar with a twenty-three-page book that I think Mohammed Amini of Egypt wrote and sold himself! I became a Kurdish scholar! I soon became terrified of the author because after he sold me the book, he frightened me that the Savak might find out about the secret that The book of the hero was smuggled into ten houses. I would shiver in the toilet every day, reading until my knees were shaking and stinking. But i couldn't hold myself I told my older brother the secret after two weeks. Because he was so smart and kind, he was warm and light. But he piggybacked me. Then, like men, he put the expensive book in the toilet hole. finely finely. He watered two or three vases over it. In the heat of the Iranian Revolution, when no one could afford to study, I received a diploma in experimental sciences in Tebriz and a year later in literature in Maragheh. He didn't benefit from any of them. Therefore, they sent me home to Tebriz and Maragheh, so that I could avoid the disaster. In 1981, I joined the army like the donkeys and returned two years later wounded on the Iran-Iraq war front. It was at that time that, by God's command, I wanted to get married, but no one listened to me. My hands remained intact. In the summer of 1984, I started working in the Kurdish department of Radio Mahabad. I played a role in night stories, writing programs for children, students, the disabled, and housewives. Every day I translated dozens of pages from Persian and read them to the world, or they gave them to another poor soul to read them. I became a teacher of art, religion, the world, literature, sociology, agriculture, science, and so on. And I still couldn't do anything. Just like now. In the autumn of 1985, I became a guidance teacher at Mullah Jami School in Mahabad, but because the head of the education department thought I was too arrogant, he expelled me from the city to the two villages of Goektapa and Kosekarez and after a year he expelled me completely. In the autumn of 1986, I went to Tehran and continued my radio work in the outside department of Kurdish Radio and Television in Tehran while studying for university. There was nothing I couldn't do there. From writing, translation, editing and acting, to dubbing, sound recording and program preparation. From his interest in what I thought was Kurdishness to organizing a social and literary conference of thousands of students. I worked for Kurdish television for a couple of years. There, I occasionally wore the clothes of a jurist and read Kurdish religious literature. Or I would edit films and direct and so on. Finally, in the summer of 1993, I was fired from Kurdish Radio and Television in Tehran. May Allah bless them and make their homes a hundred times more prosperous!
In 1992, I graduated from the Department of Cinema Engineering and Screenwriting at the Tehran University of Film and Theater. So what has cinema given to engineering, unless God knows for Himself? Well, don't ask me! In the winter of 1993, I crossed the country through Turkey and settled in Stockholm. Thanks to the smuggler's skillful guidance, it took me two and a half years to obtain a residence permit. During that time, in order not to kill men because of their unemployment, I and a couple of friends who were more unemployed than me established a local Kurdish radio station called Panjara (Window), which broadcast fifteen hours a week. Later, for fear of debt, I left the radio with my colleagues. I wasted two years studying computers, website development, and the first and last Kurdish websites. The website was Kurdish Sorani because I couldn't find any other name I named it Malpar (website). I also got bored with the website that I haven't even changed the cover for more than two years. Because I had just lost my radio and television, I couldn't help but go back there again. In the summer of 1996, I became a collaborator in the Persian section of Radio Sweden International, and in the spring of 2000, I started the Kurdish program. I keep doing it now because I don't know anything else. Obviously, I can't do cultural work, so I'm interested in political talk. I do this job not for politics, which I am not even willing to take a light swim in. The reason is that I have a wife I love very much, a five-year-old daughter, and a three-month-old black kitten. With this clean state, where is the time for politics?!
I have written several screenplays and plays in Persian. I have published two or three story cassettes for children and translated some things from Persian and Swedish into Kurdish, and vice versa. I have also published some other works here and there, none of which was worth a penny.[1]