Some of my earliest memories are of Nowruz. I remember my mother carefully preparing the Haft-Seen table, explaining what each element represented while the arrival of spring filled our home with hope. New clothes, family gatherings, visits to elders, and the excitement of a new beginning taught me that culture was never just about ceremonies. It was about belonging.

As a child, music became my language. It came naturally to me, and before I even understood musical notation, I was already playing songs by ear. But what fascinated me was never repeating what already existed. I wanted to create something new.

At eighteen, I formed one of Iran’s earliest Persian rock bands because I refused to accept that the Persian language couldn’t live within rock music. While many musicians covered Western songs, I wanted to write original music in Farsi and contribute something that did not exist before. In 2002, my song Mikhandeh was recognized as the Most Popular Rock Song among Iranian bands worldwide in Tehran Avenue Music Festival. Looking back, I realize I wasn’t simply making music. I was trying to add something to our culture.

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Immigrating to the United States changed many things, but it never changed that purpose. I discovered that success was often measured by how quickly an immigrant could blend into a new society and leave behind the language and culture they came from. I was encouraged to write English songs, join American bands, and pursue a more conventional path. While I understood the advice, it never felt true to who I was. America already had countless talented musicians telling its own stories. I wanted to tell ours.

 

Years later, acting introduced me to another way of understanding people. It taught me that every person sees the world through a different lens, and that true empathy begins when we stop judging and start listening. That lesson continues to guide every project I undertake.

 

My path eventually led me to cinematography, another craft I largely taught myself. Standing behind the camera gave me something I had never experienced before: the responsibility of deciding how the world would see another human being. I realized that through light, composition, and storytelling, I could help audiences discover beauty, dignity, and hope where they might otherwise overlook it.

 

PodMehr Foundation was born from the same belief that has guided every stage of my life.

I believe culture survives not because it is preserved behind glass, but because each generation chooses to contribute to it. Our language, our celebrations, our music, our stories, our values, and our art remain alive only when we continue creating with them.

 

For me, being Iranian is not simply an identity inherited at birth. It is a responsibility.

I hope that through PodMehr, we can help Iranians everywhere rediscover confidence in who they are, create new works that honor our heritage while looking toward the future, and ensure that the light carried through generations continues to shine for those who come after us.

 

If I can help even one generation of Iranians stand a little taller, create a little more fearlessly, and take greater pride in their heritage, then I will consider my life’s work worthwhile.