Opinion | The Embassy That Brought Us Home

A first-hand account of being evacuated twice from Iran and the extraordinary diplomatic mission that ensured thousands of Indian students returned home safely.

For generations, becoming a doctor or an engineer has remained one of the most cherished aspirations of Indian families. In Kashmir, that aspiration is perhaps even stronger. Every year, thousands of students prepare for the National Eligibility cum Entrance Test (NEET), hoping to secure a seat in one of India’s medical colleges. While many succeed, countless others, despite being exceptionally capable and hardworking, fall short because of intense competition and the limited number of seats. Determined not to let their dreams end there, many students choose to pursue medical education abroad. Bangladesh, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Russia have emerged as popular destinations. Iran, too, has become a preferred choice for a significant number of Kashmiri students, and I happen to be one of them. People often ask why so many students from Kashmir choose Iran. The answer lies in more than affordability. Kashmir and Persia have shared deep historical, cultural, literary and intellectual ties for centuries. Persian once served as the language of administration and scholarship in Kashmir, leaving an enduring imprint on our culture and vocabulary. For many parents, Iran is also viewed as a culturally familiar and secure environment, particularly for female students. Its comparatively affordable medical education, internationally recognised universities and proximity to India, with a flight of about five hours from New Delhi, make it an attractive destination for aspiring doctors from Kashmir.

I still remember boarding a Mahan Air flight from Indira Gandhi International Airport, New Delhi, on 25 April 2025. I was not merely carrying two suitcases. Like thousands of Indian students who leave home every year in pursuit of a dream, I was carrying the hopes of my family, my brothers and everyone who had wished to see me become a doctor someday. It was an emotional moment. I was leaving my country to study medicine, but I was also travelling to a land with which Kashmir has shared centuries of cultural and intellectual ties. The following day, I reached my university in Iran, settled into my hostel room and met my roommate, Fawad Nazki, a fellow student from Srinagar. Owing to delays in my visa, I had joined the university later than most of my classmates and had to appear in an examination within just three days of my arrival. Life, however, soon found its rhythm. We attended classes, prepared for our mid-term examinations, explored our new surroundings and gradually began to feel at home. By early June, our mid-term examinations were over and our final examination schedule had been announced. Like every medical student, our days revolved around lectures, books and the anxiety of upcoming examinations. Everything changed on the morning of 13 June 2025.

I woke up at around 5 a.m. to unusual sounds outside. As I reached for my phone, news alerts began flashing across the screen. Israel had launched a large-scale military operation targeting Iran’s nuclear facilities and senior military leadership. Within hours, Iran responded, and the conflict escalated rapidly. The atmosphere in our hostel changed overnight. Conversations that had until then centred on examinations were replaced by fear, uncertainty and questions about what lay ahead. Calls from home began pouring in. Parents, relatives and friends wanted reassurance that we were safe. At the same time, as the Iran Unit Coordinator of the Jammu and Kashmir Students Association (JKSA), I found myself speaking continuously with students, their families and media organisations across India. Television channels, newspapers and digital platforms sought updates on the situation of Indian students stranded in Iran. While trying to reassure anxious families, I repeatedly conveyed one message: we were safe, and we were in constant contact with the Embassy of India in Tehran. Only later did I realise what those words meant to thousands of worried parents back home. For them, the knowledge that the Embassy was closely monitoring the situation brought a sense of relief amid uncertainty. For us, stranded in a country suddenly engulfed in war, the Embassy was no longer just a diplomatic mission. It had become our strongest source of reassurance, guidance and hope.

When I finally reached home, the sight of my family waiting for me at the airport is something I will cherish forever. The moment they saw me, tears of relief replaced weeks of fear and uncertainty. For them, I had returned from a war. For me, I had returned to the warmth of home with a renewed appreciation for the value of life. I spent nearly two months with my family, convinced that the worst was behind us. The conflict had ended, classes were expected to resume and, like every medical student, my focus shifted once again to textbooks, lectures and examinations. Confident that life in Iran had returned to normal, I booked my flight from New Delhi to Tehran for 30 August 2025. Returning to Iran felt like turning a new page. The university welcomed students for the new academic session, and our second semester began in September. Hostel life resumed, classrooms were full once again and the dream of becoming doctors slowly reclaimed its place over the memories of war. For several months, life remained peaceful. By January 2026, however, subtle changes had begun to appear. Prices in the local markets had risen noticeably and an atmosphere of uncertainty started taking hold. What initially appeared to be isolated disturbances gradually spread, with reports of unrest becoming more frequent. Internet services were disrupted, shops began closing unusually early and daily life became increasingly unpredictable. Even before anyone said it aloud, we could sense that something was changing. Our parents in India, unable to contact us regularly because of the internet restrictions, became anxious once again. Ironically, history seemed to be repeating itself. Just as during the previous crisis, we had completed our mid-term examinations and had begun preparing for our finals. We believed we were entering the most important phase of the semester. Fate, however, had something entirely different in store for us.

As the situation deteriorated once again, the Embassy of India in Tehran swung into action without losing a moment. Student representatives from different provinces were brought into constant coordination so that every Indian student could be accounted for and assistance could reach us without delay. What stood out this time was not just the efficiency of the operation, but the human concern behind it. Among the officials whose dedication left a lasting impression on me were Deputy Chief of Mission Rakhee Mayuri, Anwar Sir, Sanjeev Mandia and many others who worked relentlessly behind the scenes. I was fortunate to be in regular contact with Rakhee Ma’am. Almost every morning and evening, my phone would ring. She never began with formalities. Her questions were always the same: “Faizan, are our students safe? Do you all have enough to eat? If not, we will arrange it.”

Those conversations may have lasted only a few minutes, but they carried immense reassurance. In the middle of uncertainty, they reminded us that someone was constantly watching over our well-being. At such moments, moral support becomes just as important as food, transport or accommodation. Knowing that the Embassy was only a phone call away gave confidence not only to us but also to our families waiting anxiously in India. As the security situation evolved, students across different provinces were once again shifted to safer locations, including Qom. Coordinating the movement of hundreds of students spread across a vast country under uncertain security conditions was no ordinary administrative exercise. Every relocation demanded careful planning, continuous communication with local authorities, assessment of rapidly changing ground realities and timely decision-making by officials who themselves were working under considerable pressure.

An evacuation plan was prepared, and although it had to be revised following reports of an impending ceasefire, the Embassy adapted swiftly to the changing circumstances. Some students were facilitated through the Armenia border, while others travelled via Dubai or Azerbaijan, depending on the safest and most practical option available. Throughout this period, the Embassy remained in constant touch with students, ensuring that every decision prioritised their safety. Students bore only the cost of their onward airfare to New Delhi, while the complex task of coordination, documentation, movement and logistical support was handled by the Embassy. Looking back today, what stays with me is not merely that thousands of Indian students were brought home safely. It is the extraordinary commitment with which this responsibility was carried out. Not a single student was left to fend for himself or herself. Every phone call was answered, every concern was heard and every possible effort was made to ensure that Indian citizens returned safely to their families.

Embassies are often judged by the agreements they negotiate or the diplomatic engagements they host. My understanding changed forever over the past two years. An embassy is equally defined by how it stands beside its citizens in moments of fear and uncertainty. The Embassy of India in Tehran did precisely that. For thousands of Indian students, it was not simply India’s diplomatic presence in Iran. It was India’s reassuring presence beside us when we needed our country the most.

As I look back today, I realise that my years in Iran taught me lessons far beyond medicine. They taught me the value of resilience, the meaning of service and the reassuring strength of belonging to a nation that refuses to abandon its citizens in times of crisis. I was evacuated twice from a country I had travelled to with dreams of becoming a doctor. Both times, it was the Embassy of India in Tehran that stood firmly between uncertainty and hope. Diplomacy is often understood through high-level meetings, bilateral agreements and official ceremonies. My understanding of diplomacy was shaped differently. I witnessed it in the countless phone calls made to anxious students, in the buses arranged to move us to safety, in the sleepless nights of officials coordinating evacuations and in the unwavering assurance that every Indian mattered. This article is, therefore, more than a personal recollection. It is a humble acknowledgement of the men and women of the Embassy of India in Iran who worked with extraordinary dedication under extraordinarily difficult circumstances. Their names may never make headlines, but for thousands of Indian students and their families, they will always be remembered with gratitude.

Some debts can never truly be repaid. They can only be remembered. This is my attempt to remember.

Email: faizannabi227@gmail.com