{"id":32066,"date":"2026-03-18T10:12:45","date_gmt":"2026-03-18T09:12:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kaizen-blog.org\/?p=32066"},"modified":"2026-03-18T10:12:48","modified_gmt":"2026-03-18T09:12:48","slug":"auch-in-teheran-sagt-man-ich-liebe-dich","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kaizen-blog.org\/en\/auch-in-teheran-sagt-man-ich-liebe-dich\/","title":{"rendered":"People in Tehran also say I love you"},"content":{"rendered":"

Chaharshanbe Suri is older than Islam in Iran. It goes back to Zoroastrianism, to a time in which fire was not worshipped but regarded as a sign of purity, light and truth. The festival always takes place on the evening before the last Wednesday, that is from March 17 to March 18, of the Persian year, shortly before Nowruz, the Persian New Year, which this year falls on March 20. The idea behind it is as old as it is simple: What was heavy, what was sick, what burdened the past year, should not be taken into the new one. It is left with the fire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The sentence many say when jumping reads in meaning: My paleness belongs to you, your redness belongs to me. Illness and weakness go to the fire, strength and life come back. This is not a prayer, not a formula, not a religious act in the institutional sense. It is something people simply do because their parents did it and their parents as well, through bans, through systems, through centuries.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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In the past this was a quiet ritual. Small fires in the alleys, neighbors, food, visits, a warmth that meant more than temperature. That has changed. Today Chaharshanbe Suri in Tehran is loud, sometimes chaotic, a mixture of street festival and uncontrolled New Year\u2019s Eve, with fireworks that echo in narrow alleys and throw sparks that no one counts anymore. The original silence is gone, but something of the original meaning has remained, deep inside, beneath the noise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n