‘You can’t smell Nowruz in the air’: Iran marks Persian new year under threat of strikes
You can’t smell Nowruz in the air’: Iran marks Persian new year under threat of strikes
As the Persian new year festival of Nowruz nears, Iranians are facing a stark contrast to their usual festive preparations. Mina, a woman in her 50s from Damavand, recalls the excitement of past celebrations: “We’d be busy getting ready … cleaning the house, shopping for new clothes, sweets and snacks,” she says. But this year, the atmosphere feels heavier. “Every day feels so long. It’s like I’ve lost track of time,” she adds, her voice trembling.
Persian New Year Traditions
Nowruz, which means “new day,” has its roots over 3,000 years ago, earning it recognition as one of the world’s oldest celebrations. The festival aligns with the spring equinox, symbolizing the renewal of nature and the beginning of the new year in Iran and neighboring regions. It falls on 20 March, with the following day marking the official start of the Iranian calendar.
Traditionally, families engage in deep cleaning to bid farewell to the previous year’s misfortunes. Yet this year, the joy of preparation is overshadowed by the war. Iran has endured relentless attacks from US and Israeli forces since 28 February, according to Human Rights Activists in Iran. The group reports 3,114 fatalities, including 1,354 civilians—among them, 207 children.
Voices from the Ground
“People are losing their jobs with the war. My biggest worry is our country’s infrastructure,” says Amir, Mina’s son, who moved to Damavand with his family. “At this rate, there might not even be much left of Iran. I don’t want this to be our last Nowruz.”
While some fear for their safety, others cling to the traditions that define their culture. Maryam, a woman in Tehran, notes the defiant spirit: “There were people out buying things for Haft Sin. I saw flowers and some street vendors. But no, it’s not like it was in previous years,” she says. Despite the dangers, she remains committed: “At the same time, this is a tradition that happens once a year, and we must celebrate it. I bought some items and we had some at home. I’m planning to lay out Haft Sin tomorrow.”
For others, Nowruz has become a symbol of resilience. Parmis, a 20-something resident of Tehran, recalls the usual bustle of markets and shopping centers in the final days before the holiday. This year, however, the excitement is muted. “It used to be so much easier to find all the items for Nowruz before. Now, if you go anywhere, you’re always worried whether you will be caught up in an air strike or not,” she explains. Despite the tension, she ventured out on 17 March for a manicure: “I feel like some are still carrying on despite everything, like me. I was in the salon when a loud explosion went off, and no-one even flinched.”
Diverging Perspectives
Opinions on the war vary across Iran. Ramtin, a 30-something in Tehran, argues that Nowruz is a distraction from the conflict: “What’s the point of Nowruz? If the Islamic Republic stays in power, we have to live with endless hardships. Nowruz is always there, comes and goes. This time, the Islamic Republic must go.”
“We don’t care about Nowruz, we don’t even have Haft Sin on our table,” says Kian, also from Tehran. His mother, he adds, is willing to sacrifice her home if it means the clerics’ rule ends: “She’d even be willing for the house to collapse on her head if it meant the clerics would be gone.”
Nowruz marks the point when the cold of winter begins to recede, but for many, it also signifies a time of uncertainty. The festival, once a unifying celebration of history and tradition, now reflects the divisions within a nation at war.
