Dr. Marziyeh Askari was born on January 3, 1985, in Tehran. From an early age, she was known for her brilliance, discipline, and devotion to learning. Her notebooks were always filled with careful plans and repeated study notes. She often topped academic competitions, so much so that she once told her family she was tired of always scoring perfect marks. But her academic achievements were never about pride; they stemmed from a deep desire to help people. That’s what led her to medicine.
She pursued her medical education at Tehran University of Medical Sciences, specializing first in pediatrics, and later in neonatology. In the most delicate moments of life, when newborns struggle to take their first breaths, she was there. Her colleagues recall nights she spent beside the incubators, crying silently over critically ill babies, praying for their survival, vowing to sacrifice and fast if they recovered. Her empathy was boundless; her sense of duty, unmatched.
Dr. Askari’s colleagues remember him as an exceptionally dedicated physician—someone who poured his heart into saving children’s lives. He often went far beyond the call of duty, staying up through the night to care for his young patients, refusing to rest as long as they were in need.
His wife, Jamshid Barzegar, later shared a poignant video on social media: their three-year-old daughter, her beautiful curly hair framing her face, singing the patriotic anthem “O Iran, O Land of Jewels.” It was a heartbreaking glimpse into the life, the love, and the future that he was forced to leave behind.
Dr. Askari was not only a physician, but also a teacher, a mentor, and a mother. She had recently been promoted to Assistant Professor at Bahrami Hospital and was supervising a team of young residents. Despite her high-ranking position, she never hesitated to answer a call late at night or to stand beside a patient long after her shift had ended. To many, she was more than a doctor, she was a pillar of compassion.
Three years before her martyrdom, she had survived a near-death experience. During childbirth, she suffered cardiac arrest and a stroke. She went into a coma and temporarily lost movement on one side of her body. But she came back, stronger, more determined. “I saw death,” she once told her sister, “but God gave me back, for a reason.”
On the night of June 12, 2025 , the first day of Israel’s war on Iran, she had gone to visit her parents in Shahid Chamran Residential Complex in Tehran. Her young daughter Zahra, barely three years old, was with her. Her beloved notebook was in her bag, where she always kept it, ready to write tomorrow’s plans. That night, an Israeli missile struck their building. Her notebook burned with her. So did her parents. So did Zahra, whose body was found first under the rubble, in a different room. Colleagues remember her quiet strength and radiant smile. One recalls how she couldn’t bring herself to break bad news to a baby’s parents without trembling. Another says she had already saved countless lives by detecting issues that even specialists had missed. She didn’t seek recognition. She shunned noise and fame. She taught with humility and lived with grace. Dr. Marziyeh Askari was more than a name. She was knowledge, faith, empathy, and service embodied. And though her notebook will write no more, her life remains an open book, for anyone who still believes in light amid the ruins.
She was the mother of the little girl whose video—reciting the poem “O Iran, O Border” with curly hair and sparkling eyes—captivated Iranian social media. But now, the mother’s voice that once softly echoed behind her daughter’s words has been silenced forever by the Israeli attack on Iran.
