‘The last sounds must be recorded’: Musicians playing to global audience amid Tehran’s ruins

NEW DELHI: In the ruins of his 15-year-old music school, Iranian musician Hamidreza Afarideh sat on the debris-strewn floor, drew his bow and played on the kamanche, what he called the “last sound” of his life’s work turning to dust.Weeks after an airstrike destroyed the Honyak Conservatory of Music, Alfarid returned to the perilous ruins on April 7, 2026, and recorded an unforgettable video that quickly spread beyond Tehran, capturing his profound grief after the March 23 airstrike leveled the college and severely damaged it.

“Today is the last day to say goodbye to school. I hope the last sound left in this place is the sound of music… not explosions and missiles,” Alfarid wrote that day in a now-viral post. Within days, his photos and videos racked up millions of views on Instagram, X, Youtube and TikTok, sparking a flood of multilingual reactions online that many saw as a stark reminder of the human toll beyond military headlines, sparking widespread calls to “stop the war.”“

talking toy Alfarid recalled the day of the attack in Tehran. “I feel like a very important part of our memory, and the sounds that might have persisted in that space—sounds that many artists could hear and see and live with for years—were suddenly destroyed by missiles and drones.” The academy was built over fifteen years by Alfarid and his wife, Sheida Ebadatdoust, in what he calls “their shared life project.”“We built this academy with very limited resources, solely on our dreams and dedication. To lose it suddenly is very painful. All our hard work, hard work, sustained actions to bring people closer to music and instruments, disappeared overnight. It is difficult to accept.” Everything we’ve built over the years…this loss is going to take years to digest. “

Despite the risk of collapse, he returned to the damaged building. “I knew it was very dangerous…but I felt like if I didn’t record this sound, it would stay inside me forever. I might not be[alive]after that…I felt like I had to go out there and let this be the last image and the last sound left in the safe space that we created.”Over the years, the academy has been filled with the laughter of children, the warm chatter of parents and layers of Persian classical music. After the attack, the teacher said, “that sound just disappeared.” For Alfarid, the viral moment attracted global attention, but he said it also underscored the “reality of war and destruction” faced by his 250 students, ranging from young children to seniors, and 22 teachers. His videos have become a global call for recognition of the cost of war, not just in terms of bodies and infrastructure, but in terms of art, memory and fragile ecosystems of creativity that take decades to build and minutes to undo.After more than a decade of shaping, he calls the place his “second home,” a place where students come not just to learn music but to feel seen and embraced — and for them, the loss is personal, too. “Students who were expected to return one day are now scattered, shocked and trying to process what happened. One child walked through the building with his mother and did not speak for several hours. All students are experiencing similar feelings.“Yet even in the midst of disaster, Alfarid remains adamant about the universal power of art. “Music…is a symbol of freedom,” he said. “In times of war, it can heal – even just a little – the pain of those who have lost everything.”