Conflict known as “Ramadan War” has reshaped life in Iran,forcing many,teachers included,to adapt. In central Tehran,47-year-old teacher Mehran holds classes online from cramped corner of apartment. Common scene since war began. “Life hasn’t stopped here,it’s just a different rhythm now,” he said, managing virtual education amid chaos.
Mehran starts day battling for internet connection. War's brought severe restrictions on access; education now relies on domestic “Shad” e-learning platform. “National internet's available,but it's painfully weak with surge in users,” he explained. His voice often breaks up,students vanish from platform.
His small Amirabad apartment buzzes with activity. While Mehran teaches,14-year-old daughter Mehraneh uses old tablet for lessons,8-year-old son Sam searches for signal on mom’s phone . Wife Azadeh handles company finances from another room,remote work now norm . “Weak internet barely supports one stable connection,let alone three or four,” he said,feeling the squeeze.
After virtual class,Mehran heads to pharmacy for mother’s heart meds. Shelves look stocked,but essentials missing for weeks. Pharmacy worker says prices have skyrocketed. “Medicines now eat a quarter of my salary; it was just seven percent before,” Mehran noted,lucky compared to families hit hard by U.S. blockade and supply chain issues .
Economic strain clear at Jomhouri electronics market,where Mehran sought new TV after explosions damaged his. World Cup in Mexico coming,need for TV urgent. He took metro,public transport free since war began,to cut traffic and save fuel. Yet vendor said while transport’s free,everything else is unaffordable,especially food.
TV prices surged by 40-60 million rials (~$29-$44),local currency plummeting against dollar. Nearby shop owner pointed out prices for local goods doubled,blaming rising wages and material costs. “War made transport free,but everything else unaffordable,” he said, capturing the economic pinch.
After exhausting market trip,Mehran finds peace in Osta public park. Atmosphere's stark contrast to outside chaos . Families picnic,kids play,elderly woman reads. “For a moment,you forget blockade life,” Mehran noted, enjoying fleeting normalcy .
But 22-year-old Mona sees scene differently. Says calm's a facade,hiding city’s struggle with food prices and bills. “It’s like they decided on an hour-long ceasefire from war,” she remarked,noting Tehran’s dual reality.
As night falls,Mehran heads to Enghelab Square by Tehran University. Crowds chant nationalistic slogans,show support for state. “These gatherings make us feel like we’re in same trench,” he said,speaking of solidarity born from adversity. What began politically is now something more.
“By 30th night,I looked for familiar faces,” Mehran reflected. Nightly meetings now part of life. “What if these gatherings stopped? Where would we put our energy,our anger,our hope?” The question lingers,showing conflict's deep mark on Tehran's daily life…
