By Victoria Kline
It was a somber night as well as a celebratory one. Before the festivities truly began, we paused to remember the lives lost in January 2026, a wound that still sits heavily in the hearts of many in the Iranian community. Grief and remembrance stood side-by-side, with hope and renewal.
We were invited to the Nowruz celebration at the Matt Ross Community Center. The room was filled with color, warmth, and history. Among the guests was my Iranian friend, who had visited my home two years earlier. I remember serving him Greek baklava, and he smiled and said, “Sometimes you just need Persian baklava to taste the real thing.” That night, surrounded by saffron, cinnamon, pistachios, and pastries rich with tradition, I finally understood. The table didn’t just offer food — it extended an invitation: Come share our story. Taste our past.
At the heart of the evening stood the Haft-Seen table, with its seven symbolic items
Then there are the seven symbols of the festival. They each start with the letter S – Sabzeh (سبزه) – Sprouted wheat or lentils
Symbolizing rebirth and the renewal of nature. The green shoots are a reminder that life pushes forward, even after the harshest seasons. And in memory of those whose names will grow again in the soil of Iran.
Samanu (سمنو) – A sweet pudding made from wheat germ
Representing strength and the sweetness that patience can bring. It takes hours of slow stirring to make—an edible metaphor for endurance. The strength of a people who stood empty-handed.
Senjed (سنجد) – Dried oleaster fruit
A symbol of love. In Persian tradition, its fragrance is said to awaken affection and compassion.
Seer (سیر) – Garlic
Representing medicine and protection. A nod to ancient wisdom that health is the foundation of prosperity.
Seeb (سیب) – Apple
Symbolizing beauty and good health. Its presence on the table is a wish for vitality in the coming year. A reminder that the beauty of Iran lies within its people.
Somāq (سماق) – Sumac berries
Representing the sunrise and the triumph of light over darkness. A fitting symbol for a holiday that celebrates the first day of spring.
Serkeh (سرکه) – Vinegar
Symbolizing patience, wisdom, and the acceptance of life’s natural aging and transformation. It takes time to form and so does freedom.
On this table also rested an open copy of the Shahnameh by Ferdowsi — a thousand-year-old epic that preserves Persia’s ancient identity and mythology.
Yet this year’s Nowruz carried an extra layer of meaning. One image that circulated widely captured it perfectly: white calligraphy floating above a blood-stained street, with red tulips rising from the darkness.“نوروزین از سرگذشت تو”
“This Nowruz is born from your story / your journey.” Red tulips (lāleh-ye sorkh) have long symbolized martyrs’ blood, sacrifice, and renewal in Persian culture. They remind us that beauty and hope can still bloom from tragedy.
A separate memorial table featured rows of framed photographs, flickering candles, and fresh flowers — a quiet but powerful tribute to those who did not live to see this spring.
As we stood before these faces, the words from the Haft-seen message echoed with special weight: “We set the Haft-seen not for fun or for enjoyment, but to declare a simple truth: Life goes on. No winter lasts forever.”
What is the winter? It is tyranny. And these faces are but a few examples of the 36,000 killed in two days in Iran during the brutal crackdown in January 2026. Later in the evening, the mood shifted as Iranian music filled the hall. The opening song, “Fasle Bahar” followed by an opening speech. Traditional melodies echoed through the room, and one could not help but tap our feet and sway gently to the inviting rhythms. Music brought life back into the space and reminded everyone of the joy that still exists alongside sorrow.
The evening also brought us the poem by Dr. Esfandiari, about the mythological hero Arash Kamangir (Arash the Archer). After a great war between Iran and Turan, the borders needed to be redrawn. Arash, one of the greatest archers, climbed a high mountain. With all his strength and life force, he shot a single arrow that flew for days, finally landing far away and securing Iran’s expanded territory. The effort exhausted him completely — he died the moment the arrow left his bow.
This ancient legend has taken on new power today. In murals, statues, and social media, Arash has risen again from the ashes of tyranny. He has become a symbol that the rallying cry for freedom and change is like an arrow launched into the future — a reminder that sacrifice can lead to rebirth. Additional songs such “Azkhoone Javanane Vatan” Honors young patriots who sacrificed their lives for the Persian Constitutional Revolution.
It was a night at Matt Ross Community Center, which I witnessed both profound sorrow and quiet, unbreakable strength. Nowruz 1405 was not only about the arrival of spring. It was about the resilience of a people who, even in the face of darkness, continue to set their Haft-Seen tables, play their music, tell their ancient stories, and declare with quiet determination that no winter — no matter how cruel — lasts forever.