Tehran, Iran – The Iranian capital is slowly returning to life following the most intense Israeli military strikes in recent memory, but fear and uncertainty still grip the city’s residents. From baristas at Boof Cafe to frontline nurses, the psychological impact of the recent war is profound and far-reaching.
On the surface, Tehran’s recovery is visible: traffic clogs soaring highways again, shops in the iconic bazaars have reopened, and people are slowly returning to their neighborhoods. Yet, the emotional damage from Israel’s 12-day military campaign, which targeted nuclear facilities and media outlets like the IRIB state TV complex, remains raw.
Boof Cafe and the Ghost of US-Iran Relations
Inside the Boof cafe, tucked inside the compound of the long-closed US embassy, iced Americanos are served under anti-American murals dating back to the 1979 hostage crisis. Amir, the barista, says he dreams of better relations with Washington.
“US sanctions hurt our business and make it hard to travel,” Amir tells the BBC’s Lyse Doucet. His hope is shared quietly by many Tehranis, even as state propaganda continues to frame the US as Iran’s arch-enemy.
Ayatollah’s Message Amid the Rubble
At the charred remains of the IRIB complex, Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei’s prerecorded speech played from one of the few surviving offices. The studio that would have aired his message was reduced to twisted steel and ash by an Israeli strike on June 16. Israel accused the network of housing military operations—a claim its journalists denied.
Khamenei, speaking for the first time since the ceasefire brokered by Donald Trump on June 24, declared that the U.S. and Israel want Iran to “surrender”. The 86-year-old leader had reportedly taken shelter in a secure bunker during the attacks.
The Human Cost: Hospitals and Heartbreak
Across Tehran’s hospitals, the emotional and physical scars are undeniable. At Taleghani General Hospital, head nurse Ashraf Barghi recounts treating victims from the June 23 strike on Evin prison—where most political prisoners are held.
“The injuries were the worst I’ve seen in 32 years,” she says, visibly shaken. “We don’t trust that the war has ended.”
Among the injured is Morteza, a transport worker at Evin. From his hospital bed, he shows the wounds on his arms and back, insisting: “Israel says it only hit military targets, but it’s a lie.”
Daily Life Resumes, But With Caution
While Tehran’s famed Azadi Tower hosted a patriotic concert to calm frayed nerves, residents like university student Hamed remain defiant. “Attacking our nuclear bases goes against diplomacy,” he says. “We want to live in peace, not under threat.”
Ali Reza, another attendee, calls for reform: “Our government needs to listen. We want greater freedoms.”
Despite the restrictions on free speech and clothing, citizens—especially the youth—are increasingly vocal, risking punishment to express their hope for a better future.
Grim Toll and Lingering Uncertainty
The Iranian health ministry reports 627 deaths and nearly 5,000 injuries from the conflict. While ceasefire announcements offer temporary relief, many fear renewed violence from either side, especially after attacks on sensitive locations like nuclear facilities and Evin prison.
Mina, a young woman weeping near the Azadi Tower, summed up the emotional toll: “We tried so hard to have a better life, but now we see no future.”
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Source: BBC News
