Marjan Zahraani | Najmeh, a mother carrying a 9-month-old unborn child, was waiting for a new life. She never got to hold her baby and was killed. Instead of celebrating the birth of her child in the hospital, her body—along with her unborn daughter, her husband, and a four-member family traveling with them—was escorted from the Forensic Medicine Organization to the Martyrs’ Cemetery of Isfahan. Life ended for them all.

The harsh reality of war: Dying before living
This is war. The real face of war is dying—even before being born. Ordinary people, with no safe refuge, seek shelter but are still not safe. Najmeh and Moslem lived in Habibabad, Isfahan. The sound of war had made them restless. The proximity of military zones and the airport frightened Najmeh, who was nine months pregnant. To avoid danger and the noise of rockets and air defenses, they packed their belongings and headed to Chadgan (a nearby region). On Sunday morning, they set out, and on Tuesday night, while returning home, Najmeh and Moslem—along with their daughter—were killed in the missile attacks. Najmeh was only 29 years old.

Mahlin: Like the Moon
Had Najmeh survived the war, she would have held her daughter Mahlin in mid-Tir (mid-July). But war did not allow it. Najmeh, whom her family called Zahra, was due to give birth in two weeks. Her mother said she couldn’t even pronounce her granddaughter’s name correctly, which is why Mahlin’s name on the death notice was misspelled. Zahra used to tell her mother that once born, she would practice saying her name until she got it right. But war left no time—neither for Najmeh to hold her daughter, nor for her mother to call her by name. Mahlin lived less than 36 weeks.

Najmeh Karimi had a high school diploma in sewing and was a housewife, while Moslem Taati worked as a municipal laborer. They had been married for about ten years. A simple working-class life that was supposed to be brightened by Mahlin. Filled with anticipation and fear, Najmeh set out with her family toward the outskirts of Isfahan, hoping her pregnant self and her child would be safer. On Tuesday afternoon, during the return journey to Isfahan, Najmeh, Mahlin, and Moslem were killed. Moslem never got the chance, at barely 30-something, to call his daughter’s name: Mahlin.

A friendly death
Najmeh and Moslem were not alone. The Sharifi family, neighbors and family friends, traveled with them. The Sharifi family, with two teenage children, Fatemeh and Mojtaba, were also killed at 4 p.m. on Tuesday, leaving seven young lives extinguished. Najmeh was supposed to go home after giving birth so the Sharifi family could help care for her and her baby. Najmeh’s crib was ready in the Sharifi home. But war gave none of them a chance.

Zahra was more than my daughter
Zahra, the youngest child, cared for her elderly and ill parents—parents who had already lost a son 15 years prior. Najmeh’s mother says that Zahra was not only her daughter but also her caregiver. She was attentive to everyone around her, always ready to listen and help. Losing her, especially after also losing a brother, was an unbearable blow for the family.

We don’t know exactly what happened
All the bodies were buried on Friday after prayer. Najmeh’s sister Narges says they still do not know the exact details of what happened. They were informed the morning after by people claiming to be from Moslem’s workplace at the municipality. The morning after the incident, both families received the news of their loved ones’ deaths. Najmeh’s brother retrieved the bodies from the Forensic Medicine Organization. There was nothing left of the vehicle that carried seven young passengers. The families still do not fully understand how or why they lost their loved ones. With the support of certain institutions, they conducted the burial ceremonies, bringing the lives of Najmeh and Moslem—whose youth was cut short—finally to rest at Isfahan’s Martyrs’ Cemetery.