SAEDNEWS: In the heart of Tehran, amid melodies and handcrafted art, an Israeli strike shattered the peace. This is the story of a cultural week that began with joy and peace but ended in the shadow of war.
I still remember the music echoing through Vahdat Hall. It was the opening night of the Russian Cultural Week in Tehran—an event that had all the makings of something truly beautiful. Officials, artists, students, media activists, curious citizens—we were all there, drawn in by the idea of friendship and peace through art.
The performances that night felt timeless. A Russian ensemble performed traditional folk music. There were also classical instruments. For a moment, it didn’t feel like Tehran. It felt like a cultural bridge had truly been built, right in front of our eyes.
It was June 10, the opening ceremony of Russia's cultural week in Iran, which was set to run through June 15.
The next day, my colleague and I headed to Niavaran Cultural Center, where the Russian handicrafts exhibition was held. Antique dishes and hand-carved figurines—each item told a quiet story from another land. People took photos, asked questions, and shared smiles with the Russians who had traveled so far. It was so calming and peaceful.
But then, war.
Just two days later, the air changed. The city’s atmosphere, once filled with notes of music and art, was drowned out by the sounds of air defense and explosions. Israel’s unprovoked attack turned everything upside down. Israel launched a surprise strike deep inside Iranian territory — a direct attack that shattered any sense of peace. The air, once filled with music and friendship, was now thick with tension. The fragile bridge of cultural exchange was now caught in the crossfire of a conflict.
My country is home to a nation that will never bow to pressure or threats. With deep pride and unwavering resolve, the armed forces, backed by the support of the people, declared they would respond with full force. The spirit of defiance was everywhere—on the streets, in the hearts of millions, and in every word spoken by those who stood firm against aggression. The clashes intensified, echoing the unyielding determination of a proud nation unwilling to surrender.
For twelve intense days, the conflict raged on—a brutal testament to the courage and resilience of Iranians—until finally, after relentless struggle, a ceasefire brought the fighting to a halt.
A day before the Israeli attack, I was busy writing the second report of the event, but I didn’t even get the chance to publish it. Due to the Israeli aggression, cultural centers closed. Public events were canceled. The Russian delegation quietly returned home. No closing ceremony. No farewell.
I never got to finish my story back then. I kept the photos on my phone—of the crafts, the musicians, the hopeful eyes of visitors. I’m sharing them now, not just to document a lost event, but to show what this war really cost—not just lives, but shared moments, soft power, human connection.
Sometimes, war doesn’t destroy just buildings and bodies. Sometimes, it destroys beauty and hope, without even making a sound.
