DUBAI – Zahra Arghavan and Mehdi Alishir stood on their balcony, watching the sun set over Tehran and bracing for the sound of airstrikes. In the current geopolitical climate, their lives, like many others in Iran, have been turned upside down.
As tensions escalate due to U.S. President Donald Trump’s ultimatums, anxiety fills the air. The couple is preoccupied with troubling questions: How long will the power remain out if critical infrastructure is targeted? What happens if the bridges they rely on are destroyed?
Five weeks into this new state of fear, they have grown accustomed to the roar of American and Israeli fighter jets, the sound of distant explosions, and the sleepless nights that ensue. Like many others, they have left Tehran and returned in search of safety, only to be met with the stark reality of their circumstances. Married for over a decade, they managed to navigate the challenges of the COVID-19 pandemic and the 12-day war last June.
Taking precautions, they have lined the edges of their windows with clear packing tape to minimize the risk from blasts. They have moved mirrors and fragile objects to safer spots and prepared a packed bag containing essential documents and medications, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
Trump’s recent threats have only added to their stress. In a striking warning, he declared that “Tuesday will be Power Plant Day, and Bridge Day,” stating that Iran’s leaders will face dire consequences if they do not open the Strait of Hormuz. This type of rhetoric only exacerbates the uncertainty they face.
“Honestly, the situation is really unclear,” Arghavan expressed. “We don’t really understand how long the power might go out if it does, or what life without electricity would even look like.”
Alishir added that they might cope with life without power—and possibly without running water—for about a week. “If it goes on longer, we’ll definitely run into problems,” he said, highlighting the critical nature of their situation.
Their struggles began even before the first bombs struck Iran on February 28. The Iranian government’s crackdown on nationwide protests in January severely limited internet access, leading to what the internet monitoring organization NetBlocks describes as the longest nationwide shutdown ever recorded.
Arghavan operates a small language school that teaches French to Iranians aiming to relocate to Quebec, Canada. “We were basically an online school, and our students had classes with kids abroad,” she explained. “Around 50% of our learners were outside the country. But now, with all these internet outages, it’s really disrupting our work.”
Amidst this turmoil, public sentiment in Iran is divided. Some citizens participate in daily pro-government rallies, while others quietly support the strikes against their leaders, condemning the loss of civilian lives and the destruction of critical infrastructure.
The couple, however, places the blame for the war squarely on the shoulders of Israel and the U.S., expressing a desire for a peaceful resolution. “I really hope an agreement is reached soon and that whatever happens, it ends up helping people, because right now people are the ones paying a heavy price,” Arghavan said, encapsulating the hopes of many in a tumultuous time.
