In the popular culture of Tehranis and the people of Shemiran, Tajrish holds a special place. From its street songs to its old bazaar alleys; from Imamzadeh Saleh to Saadabad Street; from its fresh produce markets to Shemroon kebabs; from Seyed Mehdi’s ash and haleem to Akbar Mashti’s ice cream; from its days to its nights—everything is memory, and each of these names awakens a particular nostalgia in the listener’s mind.
But these days, the nights of Tajrish are different from its familiar, nostalgic nights—different in a way that will itself become memorable.
Since the beginning of the war during Ramadan, people have spontaneously taken to the streets, coming in greater and greater numbers each day. Those who saw Tajrish Square during the first nights of the war will surely agree with me: not only did the crowd multiply several times over, but the diversity of the people changed as well, and the slogans became different—shifting from the form of mourning to a heroic, epic tone.
Perhaps writing this may seem a bit strange, but it must be written. In the harsh conditions of the war imposed by the United States and Israel against our good people—when every day we hear distressing news and the sounds of various explosions do not fade from our ears—the nights of Tajrish have become a balm for the pains of our days, a remedy for our sense of loneliness, and if I say they have dispelled our unknown fears, I would not be exaggerating.
When you see young girls entering the square from the surrounding streets, carrying the flag of our beloved Iran; when you see a young mother holding the hand of her small child, who carries a tiny flag in the other hand, as they come into the square; when you see families arriving with all members of the household, even with children in strollers—you gain courage, you feel hope, and you come to believe that these people will surely be victorious.
The nights of Tajrish are writing new memories.
