The late Simindokht Vahidi in the Mirror of Poets’ Memories

Poetry Alley, Mother’s Plaque, Simindokht’s House

Dialogue and Arrangement: Maryam Asadi Jafari
Machine Translation Edited by Mandana Karimi

2026-8-7

The Iranian Oral History Website - Retelling Memories is one of the best and clearest ways to honor the memory of lost loved ones. Get to know their moral and spiritual dimensions and even recognize the unseen aspects of their lives. The late Simindokht Vahidi, a contemporary poet and writer who played an effective role in highlighting the role of women in revolutionary and war poetry, passed away on July 27, 2026 at the age of 93. She had a bag of memories and ups and downs of her personal and professional life, which were collected and compiled based on interviews conducted by Fariba Anisi, which we hope will be published as soon as possible. During the Holy Defense, Simindokht Vahidi was present on the battlefields alongside other poets and recited epic poems for the warriors. This was just a corner of the life of this poetess. The Iranian Oral History website, with the aim of honoring this poetess, has reflected short memories of some poets below.

Narration of “Parviz Beigi Habibabadi”

On December 19, 1981, a group of poets, writers, a singing group, and several of the painter’s loved ones and children who were active in other fields, traveled to the front lines of the war. Of course, they tried for about a year to get this permit. In any case, it was a journey full of various events. We went to Ahvaz by train and from there we rented a minibus ourselves. With various tricks, we were able to reach Abadan. It was almost evening when we arrived there. We wanted to go to the front lines, but the commander did not allow it, saying that the situation was dangerous. We insisted that we must go. I think his name was [Martyr] Mousavi. At that time, Khorramshahr was in the hands of the enemy. When the commander saw that he could not resist us, he said, “Then I will give you a brief training. How to move through the trenches or which areas are exposed to enemy snipers. I will take you to a place where I hope you can see Khorramshahr from there and that the headquarters will not be revealed.” As he was telling us, I saw the late Simindokht Vahidi, the late Sepideh Kashani, and Dr. Vasmaghi, who were with us, suddenly wrap their tents around their waists and walk 50 meters ahead of us. That is, before we could move, they moved ahead, and Martyr Mousavi was forced to do so, and he said, “Move.” That is, they were the leaders in this matter without any fear or apprehension. Martyr Mousavi himself was surprised how these three female poets suddenly set their hearts on fire and were not afraid. Finally, we reached the relevant headquarters. The headquarters next door had been exposed and their building was hit. We were in the adjacent building and from there we could see Khorramshahr, which had collapsed and we were all looking and crying. When we returned to the Persian Hotel, which was located between Abadan and Khorramshahr, we were on the negative floor of the first floor. The enemy artillery hit this hotel and its surroundings until morning. Nearly 80 fighters from different forces were also present. Later, we found out that a week or two later, all of them had been martyred. We had poetry readings there and experienced a life of a cradle. The building was constantly shaking and then we did the typical southerner's chest-beating. I saw these three great people sitting in a corner, their shawls pulled over their heads, mourning and crying. It was there that we got to know Ms. Simindokht Vahidi better, and we served her on several other trips. This memory is not tangible now. But when you are in that situation, you realize that death is not just a step away; rather, you have entered the border of death a few steps further, and that is where you have to cross the barrier of fire and iron and achieve more concrete and tangible experiences. For everyone, the movement of the women poets was surprising. Perhaps if they had not moved, Martyr Mousavi would have justified us in a way that it would be better if you did not go. Because you might be hit by snipers. As we were walking along the path, we would see that suddenly a bullet hit the opposite wall. But fortunately, no one was hurt, and this group was present in all the different areas for about a week, and we had reached a point where if we had been silent, we would have clearly heard the Iraqis. They would have hit us with rifle grenades. Look how close they were to us. After the war, we were returning from one of the poetry nights when we saw that Ms. Vahidi’s flight ticket had been misplaced. Ms. Vahidi went forward and gave her ticket to the person checking the tickets. Of course, the ticket had been given to her by mistake and was for another woman. The person looked at the ticket and asked, “What is your name?” She replied, “I am Simindokht Vahidi.” He said, “It’s okay. I know you. Go and board the plane with honor, and that woman can board with that ticket. It’s okay.” Then he recited a ghazal by Ms. Simindokht Vahidi. It was surprising to us that a person who worked at the airport had memorized and recited a complete ghazal by him.

Narrated by "Saeed Biyabanaki"

During the war, when I was a high school student and received my diploma in 1985, it was around this time that I began to whisper poetry. The only sources where we could read other people’s poetry were the press, newspapers, and magazines. Sometimes I would listen to our favorite programs on the radio. I had seen the name "Simindokht Vahidi" in the Etelaat newspaper, which had a poetry column every day, and also in the weekly magazines Jawanan and Etelaat Haftegi, and I followed their works. As a female poet, it was interesting to me that she worked in the atmosphere of war and the front. Until one night, I was sitting in our house in Sedeh, Isfahan. At that time, I was about 20 or 22 years old. I saw my neighbor a few houses away come and knock on the door. We greeted her and she said, “A lady from Tehran has come to our house and is our guest. We have been neighbors in Tehran before and she wants to see you.” I said, “On what occasion do they want to see me?” He said, “We discussed poetry. We said there is a young poet whose name we have recently heard here and there, and she said she would like to see you.” I asked, “What is this lady’s name?” She replied, “Her name is Simindokht Vahidi.” Surprised, I asked, “What is she doing at your house?” In short, I was happy, got dressed, and left. When I heard this name, I thought she must be very young. Because the name Simindokht was a special name. I went and saw that she was the same age as my mother. We greeted her and sat down. I said, “I have followed your works from here and there. I was surprised to see you here.” Ms. Vahidi had arranged for Ms. Narges Ganji to come there as well. I knew him. He was a poet from Isfahan and about the same age as me. He also came to Sade to see Ms. Vahidi. Ms. Vahidi was very insistent on hearing our poetry. We were also beginners and we couldn’t recite poetry. But I recited one or two poems and they praised me a lot; too much. The same with Ms. Narges Ganji. Then I said: “What is your relationship with our neighbor and what are you doing here?” And they said that I was neighbors with the Haj Heydari family, who are your neighbors, in the Narmak neighborhood of Tehran. The father of the family was martyred and we had a family relationship from the old days and now that I have come to Isfahan, I went to them and found them. They also talked about you. This was my first meeting with someone I had only seen by name and this was very interesting to me. Once, our destiny was to see this lady 200 meters from our house, and this literary and maternal relationship was formed, and I saw her many times in different places and was favored by her. She was kind to me several times and said, let’s come to her house. Later, we met Mr. Foroughi and this relationship continued. I wanted to tell young poets that once upon a time, seeing poets was an ideal and a dream for us. For this purpose, during the war and under bombardment, I would get up and go to Ahvaz; the War Poetry Congress. To see Nasrallah Mardani up close or to see what Qeysar Aminpour was like. I hope that today’s generation will not see the availability of people, poets, and famous figures as cheap and easy. There was a time when we almost lost our lives to see someone.”

Narration by “Mostafa Mohaddesi Khorasani”

This memory goes back to the 1980s. My first meeting and acquaintance with Ms. Simindokht Vahidi was at the Center for Poets and Writers of Education. In those years, I was a literary expert at the General Directorate of Education of Khorasan Province in Mashhad. In Tehran, Mr. Mohammad Ali Mardani, Ms. Simindokht Vahidi, and Nasrollah Mardani had formed a council and wanted the Education Department to launch poetry competitions. I met these elders at the first student competition camp. Of course, I was already familiar with Ms. Vahidi’s works, and after that I realized that Ms. Vahidi’s house was a kind of shelter and base for female poets who had connections with her from all over the country and came to Tehran to serve her. My own sister and other female poets in Mashhad had fond memories of her hospitality, kindness, and support for female poets, and this increased our devotion to Ms. Vahidi. The last time I met her was a year or two ago. The book house, Mr. Reza Esmaili and Mr. Hossein Esrafili talked to me about taking Ms. Simindokht Vahidi’s works from them, compiling them, and publishing a collection of selected works and summaries from her. We went to her, had the initial talks, and took the works. We are still compiling that book. But unfortunately, they are not there to see the book. Ms. Vahidi had special care for me, and whenever she saw me, she would tell me that you are a good poet and that I read your works, and they showed me this affection. In a way, you could say that I had developed a motherly affection for her. I remember how many times in the presence of Mr. Mohammad Qasem Foroughi, they told me that you are like my son.

Narration by “Koohmal Jahromi”

The Leader’s meeting with the poets was in 2008, and I was about thirty years old. I was in my thirties. This meeting was a friendly atmosphere where everyone wanted to read poetry themselves. Ms. Vahidi was very kind to me. On the one hand, she was our fellow citizen, and on the other hand, we were acquaintances. They had not even told me before that this was going to happen. After going through the preparations and formalities of the meeting, we sat down. First, it was the turn of the veterans to read poetry. When Ms. Simindokht Vahidi's name was brought up and it was her turn, she said that she wanted to see if so-and-so [they brought up my name] had a turn to read poetry, otherwise I would give my turn to her. There, the gentleman jokingly said to me, "Is that you?" What a great party you have! I have said many times that there is a situation where it is very rare for someone to give their turn to someone else. But before they brought up my name, they said that they had done a very good job in Jahrom and had invited many young people to read poetry. Anyway, the gentleman also said, you are doing a good job of giving your turn to the young people. He was very kind to the young people, and one example is that his home was a gathering place for young poets, and he especially liked women and made time for them. Many poets, especially women, are indebted to him. If they wanted to publish a book, Ms. Vahidi would help and make the arrangements, and this is a model for all cultural activists, how Ms. Vahidi helped the youth without any expectations. Maybe 10 years before this incident, there was a conference hall opposite the Belal Mosque, where the Sacred Defense Poetry Congress was held. She and several other poets were sitting at the table. Ms. Vahidi was kind and said, I like the youth and I gave you full credit. This was valuable to me.