A woman searches for her belongings in her destroyed flat in Tehran.
Zahra is preparing her home for Nowruz, the ancient festival that celebrates the onset of spring and the Iranian New Year.
As a grandmother residing in a suburb of Tehran, Zahra would typically anticipate a joyful family gathering for Nowruz. However, the ongoing conflict has overshadowed these plans. With government-imposed internet restrictions, she faces significant challenges in keeping in touch with her loved ones.
"My children are restless. Not being able to hear their voices is driving me insane. This is truly the height of cruelty and oppression for a mother."
Zahra's name has been altered to shield her from potential government repercussions. Like many individuals in Iran, she risks severe consequences if her identity were to be revealed.
These voices long to communicate their realities to the global community but can only do so while ensuring their anonymity and concealing their locations.
Those who discreetly share information with international media are acutely aware of the inherent dangers involved.
According to the US-based Human Rights Activists News Agency, quoting Iran's Ministry of Intelligence, ten individuals were recently detained for "co-operating with foreign media," while two others were arrested for "creating psychological insecurity in society through cyberspace."
This reflects the grim reality of life in Iran, now nearly four weeks into a war following attacks from the US and Israel.
Utilizing reliable sources within the country, the BBC has gathered testimonies from a diverse range of Iranians. The emerging narrative conveys a deep sense of anger, sorrow, and escalating fear as reported death tolls approach 3,000, with over half of the victims being civilians.
Outside Zahra's residence, the remnants of "black rain" from the US and Israeli airstrikes on oil depots are evident, staining the ground.
"Everything in the courtyard had been blackened by oil. We no longer have visits or gatherings, but symbolically, we must prepare ourselves, clean our homes, and welcome Nowruz. Perhaps this dark night will finally give way to dawn."
When asked whether she desires a ceasefire, Zahra expresses her disdain.
"This regime has caused so much suffering over the past 47 years, leaving countless mothers without their children, even more than the war itself has. Therefore, I prefer that there be no ceasefire until this entire regime is gone."
Supporters of the government frequently take to the streets to criticize the US-Israeli operations.
In this oppressive environment marked by censorship and the stresses of war, it remains challenging to determine the level of support for regime change among the populace.
The brutal slaughter of thousands of anti-regime protesters in January continues to haunt the collective memory of the nation.
Samar (a pseudonym), a student in Tehran, notes that the fervent supporters of the government are entrenched in a "culture of martyrdom," which raises concerns of civil conflict should clerical authority be challenged.
"It means they're willing to die but not let the regime fall - they believe such a collapse equates to the end of their faith. This reflects the extent of the regime's brainwashing."
Samar articulates a commonly held perception that for every high-ranking official, "they've reportedly assigned three to seven successors. Like a hydra - you cut one head off, another grows back. They won’t surrender any time soon."
While she aspires to see the end of the current regime, she emphasizes the numerous complexities that underpin its support base and hinder meaningful change.
"They [the regime] have cultivated multiple ideological narratives, each supporter aligning with a different viewpoint.
"One is rooted in religion; others are influenced by nationalism and the notion of external threats, or through fears of national disintegration."
When queried about her hopes for the future, Samar responds: "Wherever I look, it's a mess. Even if Pahlavi [the son of Iran's last Shah] were to return and attempt to establish a new government, I fear those loyalists would resort to suicide attacks. They are not going to back down."
In addition, sources in Iran managed to interview a young man preparing for mandatory military service.
Ali (a fictitious name), in his early 20s, recently suffered the loss of a close friend during an air strike on his army base.
"I heard that they had bombed that place. Then I learned my friend was dead. It was difficult to accept. I called other friends, and they confirmed, 'Yes, he has been killed.'"
He recounted the harrowing escape of another friend, alongside the account of another who had chosen to desert.
Military service is compulsory for all males over the age of 18.
"You must go... They come for you. They take you from your home. If they see you outside, they take you with them," he explains.
Yet, Ali expresses his refusal to serve. His stance isn't grounded in ideology; rather, it stems from a desire to preserve his life.
"I definitely won't go because my life would be in danger. Whatever it takes, I will avoid military service."
Currently, the state maintains its oppressive apparatus, military strength, and a sufficiently robust support base to continue its engagements.
Any ceasefire is likely to leave the current authorities in power, allowing them to persist at least in the medium term.
A prolonged conflict could lead to a far less predictable situation for both the regime and the Iranian people.
Additional reporting by Alice Doyard and Josh Cheetham, BBC Verify.
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