Iranian interlude: Notes from a recent visit to the embattled country

After a recent visit to the embattled country, Ranjita Ganesan writes about the people and places that stand to suffer

At the risk of sounding like that foreign journalist writing on West Asia about whom Karl Sharro has amply warned everyone, I start this piece with something a cab driver said last November while taking me to the airport in Tehran. “You are leaving at the right time.” He was just referring to the weather, though. The only thing escalating in the semi-arid capital city then was winter, the temperature hovered a few degrees Celsius above zero. The first powdery bits of snow had fallen and begun to underline his windshield. 

A hint of looming unrest was sensed the night before I took the flight back to India, after a blissful week in Iran. A petrol price hike of 50 per cent had been announced at midnight, and international guests and local staff in my traveller’s hostel discussed the possibility of protests. No one could have guessed that the state would claim the lives of hundreds of protesters. Or that, just as people were dealing with these losses, the US would in December illegally kill Qasem Soleimani, the commander of the elite military Quds Force, while he was in Iraq. 

The next few weeks have brought a series of chilling developments: a stampede broke out on Soleimani’s funeral, two US military bases in Iraq were struck, and a Ukrainian airliner carrying many Iranian-Canadian passengers was mistakenly, unpardonably, brought down. Talking about a sojourn in Iran and sharing happy pictures seemed inappropriate in the midst of such strife, at least until US President Donald Trump, in a moment of war-kindling rhetoric, threatened he would hit as many as 52 sites of cultural significance to Iran. The US Pentagon disputed his claim. 

But maybe it is important, urgent even, to discuss Iranians beyond their government’s brutal crackdowns on dissent, and beyond the interventionism of a Trump administration which says it wants to liberate people while simultaneously banning them from US shores. To those trying to quickly form an opinion about Iran during periods of crisis, it may not always occur to separate the people from the geopolitics. Some Iranians themselves, hurt by global isolation, are conscious about their image abroad: Are you liking the country? Isn’t it different from what the media shows?

Azadi Tower in Tehran

Few can be as boastful about their city as the Isfahanis. The erstwhile capital of the Seljuq (1038-1194) and Safavid (1501-1736) empires is called “nesf-e jahan” or “half the world”. Naghsh-e jahan — the second largest square in the world after China’s Tiananmen — alone deserves two days to take in. Its four sides were dedicated to four aspects of society. The Shah mosque, with breathtaking tile work, conducted Friday prayers and stood for religion, while the fresco-filled Ali Qapu palace symbolised politics. Sheikh Lotfollah mosque was a place of education, and the Grand Bazaar, selling the finest engraved metal, hand-painted enamel, and carpets, indicated commerce.

Vast sections of Isfahan are built over Zayandeh, a river that was once life-giving but which runs shallow now, leaving the network of canals in the city dry. The series of picturesque bridges over it are still vibrant public spaces where young groups perform rap or practise tahrir (traditional rhythmic vocals) with equal gusto. Jolfa Square, the city’s Armenian Christian quarter, is home to a music museum chock-full with rare Persian instruments delineated by region. Ticket prices are steep but they include a personal tour and a mini live concert.

The Tabatabai House in Kashan. Photo: Ranjita Ganeshan

Kashan, an oasis in the desert equidistant from Tehran and Isfahan, is not a go-to for many travellers. But this small town perfumed headily by the Gol-e Mohammadi (Damask rose) produced Sohrab Sepehri, a stalwart of the New Poetry movement, and inspired lines such as “My Mecca is a red rose / My prayer rug a spring of water”. It was also the birthplace of Kamal-ol-Molk, who painted in royal courts during the Qajar and early Pahlavi eras. A day in the 430-year-old Bagh-e Fin, with its pools and fountains, and the many lavish mansions built by wealthy families in the past, is well worth it. 

Drivers plying between Kashan and Isfahan offer a stop in the hilly village of Abyaneh, which is much recommended for its azure skies and unsullied streams. En route, one can spot the Natanz power plant but photography is restricted. The village’s mostly elderly residents have held on to old customs: they use words from Middle Persian, build homes with local red earth, and the women wear bright floral scarves while men dress in loose pants. Some of the million Iranians who died in the war with Iraq, known as the “imposed war”, are memorialised there. 

A monument dedicated to the Iran-Iraq War. Photo: Ranjita Ganeshan

There are the symptoms of a sanctioned country. International bank cards don’t work so one is required to apply for a local debit card and load it with euros or dollars. The economy is in dire straits but mind-boggling numbers of local bank branches exist on every street. Card machines spit out the slimmest receipts because paper is scarce now. Importing drugs and pharmaceutical ingredients is slow  and expensive. At the Isfahan bazaar, a few shop owners quickly followed up their hellos to my guide — a chemist by night — with enquiries about medicines they haven’t received. Flight delays are par for the course.

Yet, the Iranian penchant for niceties and generous food portions remains. Loving attention to aesthetics is apparent in the grand architecture, the perfectly landscaped gardens, the way a pot of tea is served. Strangers are readily anointed “azizam” (my dear), and most interactions end with “khaste nabashid”, a wish for good health that loosely translates to “don’t be tired”. Beware of the poetry-laced “ghabel nadareh” (this is not worthy of you), a common refrain of taarof or Persian etiquette, often applied by bazaaris who consider it rude to declare the price. This stops if you say “khahesh mikonam” (please) enough times.

People advise against spending time in the big city but there are scores of experiences to be had in Tehran. Wake up early and get in line at the neighbourhood bakery to buy crisp barbari naan. Modern coffee houses run by young Iranians, who look straight out of an indie music video, have sprung up everywhere. Iran’s publishing industry is resilient, so, regardless of whether one reads Persian or not, bookshops are great for marvelling at graphic covers. The tree-flanked Valiasr Street, the longest in West Asia, connects the city’s top and bottom. It is easily navigable by underground trains, in which hawkers sell portable chargers, hair grips, and also boots.

A view of the Naqsh-e Jahan Square in Isfahan. Photo: Ranjita Ganeshan

It may be a while before I have another week in Iran but I would use it to travel further south to Shiraz, from where it is possible to journey to Persepolis, and then southeastwards to Yazd, from where the majority of Mumbai’s Iranis hail. Costs in Iran are comparable with India and dirt-cheap versus Europe but the inflow of tourists has plummeted in the last month. It has been a harsh winter for those Iranians who depend fully or in part on tourism, and they deserve not to be robbed of spring.