Alisan Jabbari and Taha Behrouzi: Seven-Year-Old Children Who Just Wanted to Play

Alisan Jabbari and Taha Behrouzi were both seven years old, two inseparable souls who grew up side by side in the Heydarabad neighborhood of Tabriz. From preschool to playground, they were more than friends; they were brothers in spirit. Every afternoon, their laughter echoed through the narrow alleyways of their neighborhood, their games filled with innocence and dreams far larger than their small frames.

On the evening of June 20, 2025, as twilight settled over the city, the two boys stepped out of their homes to play, Taha proudly wearing his favorite shirt, telling his father with joy, “I want to show off in the alley!” Minutes later, an Israeli drone was shot down by Iranian air defenses. But its scattered fragments found their way to the heart of a quiet residential area, landing where Alisan and Taha were playing. The blast silenced their laughter forever.

Their bodies were found side by side, just as they had lived. The same street that had once carried their footsteps now carried their memory. Both of their mothers were injured in the explosion and rushed to the hospital. But no wound could compare to the ache left by the absence of their sons. Taha’s father recalls the moment he heard the news: “There was silence, heavy, unnatural silence in the house. My brother answered the phone and said, ‘Taha is no longer with us.’” His voice breaks, but his dignity holds.

Alisan’s mother, with trembling hands and a voice that mixes pride with heartbreak, said: “They started life together. They walked through every stage hand in hand. And now they’ve flown together to heaven. Their martyrdom was a shared ending to a shared beginning.”

They were two little lights extinguished too soon, but in truth, they have become eternal stars in the sky of memory, guiding hearts toward justice, reminding the world what the cost of silence truly is.