I was killed on the 29th of October 1401. He would be twenty-two years old in a week, born at 10:30 pm on November 8, 1379. Son of Samia (Sara) Sarikhani and Farshid. I was the only boy and I only had one younger sister named Ghazal, who was named Fatema on her birth certificate at the insistence of my father, but we called her Ghazal according to my wish. My parents separated in 2014 when Ghazal and I were children, and after that we lived with my mother. At that time Ghazal was only 7 years old, my father never heard from me and Ghazal after the divorce, my mother raised us alone with thousands of pains and problems but with motherly love, she placed her family, which was Sarikhani, on us, my friend I was known as Irfan Dashti (my father's last name). My mother was both father and mother and a good friend to us, she was always attentive to us and did not let us go astray. I was the only delight of Ghazal. We were very good friends, I gave him any encouragement I got with enthusiasm, I loved him as much as I could. I was sensitive to Ghazal, no one dared to say anything to him, even jokingly! I was a native of Tehran and lived in Tehran Pars neighborhood.
Since I was 15 years old, I became a man of the house, I studied and worked at the same time, and I was a household helper. I am an accounting student and since I was 14 years old, I have been following photography with interest, especially studio photography, and I have been doing it professionally. Basically, I was a kind, happy, witty, active, full of energy and conscientious boy. I was very witty and I used to write poetry to my mother, my mother said Irfan, be serious first, I said I can't do it! I had been in love for some time and I insisted to my mother to let me marry, but she was against it, I was trying to show myself as a strong man, but also to please her, finally I succeeded! We agreed to go for a proposal in the month of April, but my short life didn't last long... With the start of nationwide protests after the killing of Mehsa Gina Amini, I bravely and fearlessly joined my compatriots in the street and participated in rallies every night until late.
At the beginning of October, when I was in a rally, government mercenaries attacked me and harassed me for having a young girl. I got into a fight with them and let the girl run away. Then the officers took me and some other young people and put them in a van, but the people saved us. We gave and ran away. That night, I rushed home and told the story to my mother. I didn't go to the demonstration for two or three days, but I started again. One night, I was caught and beaten up. One of the officers hit my ear hard. I was able to save myself, but when I went home, my ear was bleeding. The effect of the impact is torn! I started treatment and I promised my mother that I would be out less in that situation. One night when I was out and didn't have a mask, I took the turban and robe of a mullah and my friend and I made fun of him! When I went home and told my mother, she was very worried and told me, "Aran, don't go anymore. I told you to change your way of thinking. She said nothing will happen. I told you to correct your thoughts. She said, "Then what is our duty?" I said that my blood is not more colorful than others..."
On the days when my mother came back late from work, Ghazal and I would make molotov cocktails at home and we would watch them on the terrace until my mother came home! One evening, a crow was sitting by the window of my room. It was strange that it was not afraid of me and did not run away. I was giving it bread. I called my mother to come and see. At that time, we noticed two suspicious people in private clothes, who were clearly coming to the alley for identification. That night, my mother worriedly took me to a friend's house, I stayed there for two days, and on the third day, I returned home with my mother's insistence. The next day, October 26th, when my mother was at work, I went home, changed my clothes, kissed Ghazal and left. I was with my girlfriend at 7 o'clock, but between 5 and 7 o'clock my phone suddenly turned off... The criminals of the regime kidnapped me, killed me between 3 o'clock and 5 o'clock in the morning in Jajrud forest, before that they beat me, took off my clothes, and made me prostrate from the cold. It was dry, my lips were dry and white, and I was thirsty when I woke up... On the other hand, when I didn't answer my phone and didn't return home at night, my mother and Ghazal cried until the morning. They anxiously searched for me everywhere for three days, the police, the police, the emergency department, but they couldn't find any trace of me. After three days at 8:00 p.m. on Friday, October 29, 1401, someone called my mother and told her to come to the Jajrud police station. When my mother and my uncle and aunt arrived there, they were told that I committed suicide and that my body was found in the forest near Jajrud! This was a pure lie, I had no reason to commit suicide with all that passion for life, besides, the children of our neighborhood in Tehran-Pars had seen some people put me on a white truck and take me with them... My mother took me to the forensic morgue while I was still dead. Blood was flowing from my burst stomach and nylon was stretched around me, my nose and head were broken, my eyes were out of sockets and the marks of the beating were clearly visible. But my uncle saw my burst stomach... The medical examiner declared the cause of death unknown in the burial certificate!
It was 11 o'clock in the night when Ghazal jumped up on the street with my mother's screams. On the day of the funeral, they didn't let my mother get close to my lifeless body, but she held me by force, forced them to put me down, begged them not to take me, but they did... my lifeless body at 10:30 am on November 1, 1401 in Besht Zahra, Tehran. 327, Row 80, No. 35, was buried oppressively... When I put my body in the grave, I couldn't move, so I brought it out again. I
After that event, the officers took my mother to my grave because of the union of petitioning mothers! Telling her that you should not be in a relationship with demanding mothers, take care of your daughter. Until my mother protested about Ghazal, they threatened her! My mother, who was always fond of poetry and was very afraid that something bad would happen to her, would take her to school and sit in the yard so that she could take her home with her when the school day closed. The government mercenaries threatened her that she should not say anything at school so that no one would find out about me. ! My mother became ill from worrying about Ghazal. Once, they caught him from the front door and took him away, telling him that you are playing with your daughter! In those few days when I was in great danger before my kidnapping, when I wanted to go somewhere where the mercenary agents would not touch me, after many years I called my father and asked him to give me shelter, but the answer was negative! After I was killed, my father completely denied my existence because of his job as a journalist, business interests, and fear of the consequences, and he did not attend any of my ceremonies, not even my funeral! After I left, my mother wrote in one of her posts: "You who kicked people's girls, what could my son do except help that girl?" be a spectator I am proud of him, you are the one who punched my ear so hard that his eardrum was torn, you are the one who forced my child in the car and took him away, and for three days, me and his sister were door to door on the street, and after three days, the child was in the middle of the night. You left my child in that desert with a hot face and a torn stomach, what did it take for him to die..."
9 months had passed since I was killed, my uncle who was very close to me and his cancer had been contained for four years, with the sorrows he caused me, his disease returned and within less than two months, his whole body was affected and on the 25th of July, 1402 eyes He passed away... My grandfather and grandmother were very sad after the death of my uncle and me, and my grandmother became depressed when I left and talked to me day and night. Within a few months, the one who couldn't stop crying was filled with the grief of my uncle and me on March 18, 1402 and came to us... On the day of the presidential election, my mother came to my grave and the other deceased and wrote under our photos, "I came to the children today. Give me a vote, my vote is for the children and the overthrow of the regime!" All the satellite channels broadcast this and that night at 12:30 the police information called him that tomorrow you have to introduce yourself, my mom and Ghazal go out of the house and every three or four days in that two or three months. Stay!
My mom didn't have a case, but the mercenaries said that the case went to a certain branch of the Islamic Revolution Court! They called him all the time, but he didn't care and didn't go, he told them to send a notice, I'm coming! They kept threatening him. He was fired from his job, but his voice grew louder and he is still demanding my unjustly shed blood. After I left, many mental problems arose for my mother and Ghazal, Ghazal became severely depressed, even in his sleep he chewed his nails, jumped up from sleep, and had delusions. My mother used to say, "You killed my child and you fired me. Don't you say you didn't kill my child, so why are you having so much trouble with this matter now?!"
My mother's only happiness is my jacket, which was the only thing I had with me, and when I handed it over to her, she said, "My clothes still smell like your perfume!" When he gets sick, he hugs you until morning and sleeps..." Ghazal, who was tired of all the threats, said: "Don't they say that we didn't kill Irfan, so why are they so afraid? Taking the life of our loved ones and our peace and security. Ghazal is afraid because of my mother and my mother because of Ghazal! They come to my grave in the quiet hours when no one is around. When the mercenaries arrested some of those who came to the graves of the martyrs, they followed my mother and Ghazal as well, and this made them unable to speak at my grave. They vandalized my tombstone several times. Comrade, I am Samiya's son, Ghazal's brother, I fought and sacrificed my life for the freedom of all of us. My mother just wanted to see the fruit of the hard work she had put on me for years and to get rid of the fatigue, but the criminal government did not let her... she said: "You took my child, you took my life, you took my peace, then you are afraid of taking my life?"
You took my dearest life, all my love, all the fruits of my life are lying under the dirt, what else do I have to lose?" My mother is so tired and sad that she just wants to finish the poem and come to me, nothing has the smell of life anymore. The criminals are threatening to kill me and my mother and sister after seeing the three fires...
Don't let my blood be trampled, you too fight for freedom, this is the path to victory, believe in it and continue.
On the day of Independence Day, remember me that I was buried in a corner of this soil with my dreams...
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