This post is dedicated to the 7-year-old Iranian boy Makan Nasiri, who was one of the 168 children who were victims of the atrocious missiles strike of the school in Minab, Iran on Feb 28, 2026, by US-Israel troops. He was the only child whose no human remains were ever found even after 7-weeks of search, and he was thus declared as the missing martyr in the war. The only thing ever found of him were a blue sweater and a single shoe.
(Makan
Nasiri, the only child still missing from the school bombed in Iran | US-Israel
war on Iran News | Al Jazeera)
Photos showing the smiling little Makan (taken from the various links below) as that's how I would like to remember him too..
Makan was a boy who brimmed with life and was also someone who had a devotion to God as his mother reported that he would take part in religious rituals and helping with activities in the mosques (https://www.instagram.com/p/DXM18hZSS7e/).
I am sharing some clips which I found from the web:
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DW7eTs5gpCz/
(showing the bubbly cute Makan in few clips)
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DXrl3wmjC33/
(This clip (AI generated) an attempt to show Makan (after his passing) walking on path of roses and entering the mosque and being welcomed with other martyrs.)
other clips showing the little angel and the aftermath:
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DXklmmtDPPd/
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DXeuBhBCDtb/
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DW3w1gziNPU/
Makan Nasiri was reported as missing after the 7-week search, but he was killed on Feb 28. I discovered that his Arabic-origin name (that means "place" or "location") appears exactly 28 times in the holy Quran. Perhaps, his passing was chosen and was meant to set an example as his role on earth was finished. But then, it is not possible to fill the void he has left behind and the sorrow which his loving parents feel and will continue to feel. Truly, his loving parents were spared the horror of seeing their little child in bits and pieces. Rather, God decided to have him become part of the Iranian soil completely and inspire young blood to wake up to their roots and faith and stand up for the truth.
May God grant patience to his parents to manage to live with his loss....
I was getting reminded of some poetry lines of Allama Iqbal at this:
"Kitni Mushkil Zindagi Hai, Kis Qadar Asan Hai Mout
Gulshan-e-Hasti Mein Manind-e-Naseem Arzan Hai Mout
Seena Chaak Iss Gulistan Mein Lala-o-Gul Hain To Kya
Nala-o-Faryad Par Majboor Bulbul Hain To Kya
Zindagi Ki Aag Ka Anjaam Khakstar Nahin
Tootna Jis Ka Muqaddar Ho Ye Woh Gohar Nahin"
-Allama Iqbal
https://iqbalurdu.blogspot.com/2011/04/bang-e-dra-139-walida-marhooma-ki-yaad.html
English translation of above lines:
"How hard life is! How easy is death!
In the garden of existence, death is as cheap as the morning breeze.
If in this garden the breasts of the tulip and the rose are torn, so what?
If nightingales are forced to cry and lament, so what?
The finality of the fire of life is not a bed of ashes.
It is not the pearl whose destiny is to be broken."
https://iqbalurdu.blogspot.com/2011/04/bang-e-dra-139-walida-marhooma-ki-yaad.html
Targeting and killing little children is a war crime and it obviously impacts me to a deeper level, and although I have penned many poetries (unpublished) on that topic, I could not stop myself from expressing my emotions especially for this little boy as it also helps me in my healing too as I am highly overwhelmed as I can deeply feel sorrows of little children and their mothers as I am a highly sensitive person...
I am sharing a poem dedicated to Makan I wrote few days ago. This poem is inspired by the story of Surah Yusuf from the Quran, especially as it's believed that even Prophet Yusuf (A.S.) was 7-year-old when he was separated from his loving father and there was a striking similarity. Even the sweater of Makan had some blood spots/ flesh on it but it was later confirmed it belonged to someone else and not Makan, so essentially, the sweater left a window of hope open...
Anyways, here is my first poem on Makan:
Waiting for Makan
They have given me that torn
blue sweater with blood spots
that are not your blood,
found after the intense search,
the silent witness of your
disappearance and predicted death.
No trace, no remains
of your gentle little body,
only debris and ruins remain.
Should I believe them?
My heart shall not.
I shall cry and cry,
empty out my two eyes
in your sorrow,
turn myself blind to this world
as I wait in beautiful patience.
For I know,
after a long long wait,
I shall be able to smell
your scent from your
heavenly garment
and I shall be granted the sight
to glimpse your full face and body
shining beautiful and bright
and embrace it in my arms
in Paradise, where we
will meet again.
-Shilpi
