Chaharshanbe Suri: Iran’s Fire Festival Before Nowruz

Last year in Milan, I tried to explain Chaharshanbe Suri to my Italian neighbors. “So we jump over fire,” I said. “In the street. While chanting.” The woman on the second floor looked at me like I was describing a felony. Her husband asked if we needed a permit.

No permit. No safety net. Just bonfires, firecrackers, and a chant that’s older than most religions. Chaharshanbe Suri (چهارشنبه سوری. châhârshanbeh suri) is Iran’s fire festival, celebrated on the last Tuesday evening before Nowruz. It’s Zoroastrian. It’s loud. And it’s the one night a year when the Iranian government genuinely wishes its citizens would just stay home.

They never do.

What Is Chaharshanbe Suri

چهارشنبه سوری. châhârshanbeh suri. literally means “Wednesday feast” or “Wednesday of the festival.” The name is slightly misleading. you celebrate it on Tuesday night, but since the Iranian day starts at sunset, it’s technically already Wednesday by the time the fires are lit. Classic Persian logic.

The roots are Zoroastrian, going back at least 3,000 years to the worship of fire as a purifying force. Zoroastrians considered fire sacred. a physical manifestation of اهورا مزدا (ahurâ mazdâ), the supreme deity. The festival marks the last Wednesday before Nowruz, the Persian New Year, and its purpose is simple: burn away the bad, welcome the good.

It falls on the eve of the last Wednesday of the Iranian calendar year. In 2026, that’s the evening of March 17. tonight, if you’re reading this when it goes live. The festival kicks off at dusk and runs until well past midnight, filling Iranian cities with the smell of smoke, the sound of firecrackers, and the sight of people literally jumping over flames.

The Fire-Jumping Chant: Word by Word

This is the moment. You’ve got a row of small bonfires. or one big one if your street is ambitious. and you run and jump over the flames while chanting:

زردی من از تو، سرخی تو از من!
Zardi-ye man az to, sorkhi-ye to az man!
“My yellowness to you, your redness to me!”

Every Iranian alive can recite this from memory. It’s probably the first Persian sentence most diaspora kids learn that isn’t salâm or a request for food. Here’s the linguistic breakdown:

زردی. zardi. yellowness
From زرد (zard. yellow). In Persian color symbolism, yellow represents sickness, weakness, pallor. When someone looks ill, you say zard shodi. “you’ve gone yellow.” It’s the color of bad health.

سرخی. sorkhi. redness
From سرخ (sorkh. red). Red is the color of vitality, health, warmth. Rosy cheeks. The glow of life. When the fire gives you its sorkhi, it’s transferring its energy to you.

من. man. I/me
از. az. from
تو. to. you (addressing the fire)

So the full chant is a negotiation with fire: take my sickness, give me your strength. You’re asking the flames to absorb everything bad from the past year. illness, bad luck, depression, whatever. and replace it with warmth and vitality for the year ahead.

The chant doesn’t change between registers because it’s a fixed ritual phrase. like a prayer. Nobody improvises. You chant exactly this, every year, exactly the same way your great-grandmother did.

Qâshoq-Zani: The Door-Knocking Tradition

Before the fire-jumping, there’s قاشق‌زنی (qâshoq-zani). literally “spoon-banging.” Think of it as the Iranian version of trick-or-treating, minus the costumes and plus a metal spoon.

Here’s how it works: you cover yourself with a چادر (châdor. veil/cover) or any disguise so you’re unrecognizable. Then you go door to door in your neighborhood, banging a spoon against a metal bowl or pot. The homeowner opens the door, sees a mysterious cloaked figure making a racket, and is supposed to fill the bowl with آجیل (âjil. mixed nuts) or sweets.

قاشق. qâshoq. spoon
زنی. zani. banging/hitting (from zadan, to hit)
چادر. châdor. veil, cover, disguise
آجیل. âjil. mixed nuts and dried fruits

The anonymity is the point. You don’t reveal who you are. The tradition symbolizes the dead visiting the living. spirits of ancestors returning on this liminal night between the old year and the new. The homeowner gives food to honor these visitors without knowing who they are.

In practice, it’s mostly kids in bedsheets banging pots and running away with pistachios. But the symbolism is genuinely ancient. predating Halloween by centuries.

The Government vs The Bonfires

Every year, starting about two weeks before Chaharshanbe Suri, the same cycle plays out. State television airs segments about fire safety. Police announce crackdowns on firecracker sales. The آتش‌نشانی (âtash-neshâni. fire department) goes on high alert. Officials issue statements calling the tradition “dangerous” and “un-Islamic.”

And every year, Iranians build bonfires anyway.

The tension is real. Chaharshanbe Suri is explicitly pre-Islamic. it celebrates fire in a way that connects directly to Zoroastrianism, Iran’s dominant religion before the Arab conquest in the 7th century. For the Islamic Republic, that’s uncomfortable. A nation celebrating a Zoroastrian fire ritual is a nation reminding itself that Iran existed. thrived. long before Islam arrived.

The firecrackers are a more modern addition and genuinely dangerous. ترقه (teraqeh. firecracker) injuries send hundreds to hospitals every year. The homemade ones. and Iranian teenagers are terrifyingly creative. can take off fingers. This is the one part of the tradition where the government’s safety concerns are legitimate.

But the fire-jumping itself? That’s not going anywhere. Three thousand years of momentum beats a government press release every time.

Chaharshanbe Suri Vocabulary: 15 Words

Three of these. âtash, zard, sorkh. are words you’ll use constantly in Farsi beyond this holiday. Âtash appears in dozens of compound words: âtash-neshâni (fire department), âtash-bâzi (fireworks), âtash-feshân (volcano). The fire vocabulary from Chaharshanbe Suri plugs directly into everyday Persian. For more on colors in Persian, the full guide covers every shade.

How Iranians Abroad Celebrate

In Tehran, Chaharshanbe Suri is a street-wide event. bonfires at every intersection, firecrackers echoing off apartment buildings, the whole neighborhood out past midnight. In the diaspora, it’s smaller but no less stubborn.

In Los Angeles. تهرانجلس (Tehrângeles). the Persian community organizes public Chaharshanbe Suri events in parks with supervised bonfires. Toronto’s Iranian community does the same. In London, Berlin, Stockholm. anywhere with enough Iranians to fill a park. someone will light a fire and people will jump over it.

In my case in Milan, the fire was a row of tea candles on my balcony. I stepped over them. not jumped, stepped. because my Italian landlord already thinks I’m unhinged. The chant was the same, though. Zardi-ye man az to, sorkhi-ye to az man. Whispered, at midnight, over candles barely taller than my thumb.

It still counted.

Diaspora Chaharshanbe Suri is always a compromise between the tradition and whatever country you’re in. Fire regulations in Canada are stricter than in south Tehran. But the core act. saying goodbye to the old year’s problems and asking for renewal. works at any scale. The fire doesn’t need to be big. It just needs to be there.

For the full map of Iranian holidays throughout the year, the complete Persian holidays guide covers every celebration from Nowruz to Yalda. And if Nowruz itself is what you’re after, the 13-day Nowruz deep dive starts right where Chaharshanbe Suri ends.

FAQ

Chaharshanbe Suri is the warm-up. literally. for the two weeks of celebration that follow. Tonight the fire takes the old year’s weight. Tomorrow, the haft-sin table goes up. By Friday, it’s Nowruz.

The full vocabulary from this post. all 15 words plus the chant. is available as a practice set in ZabanYar.

If you want to practice chanting zardi-ye man az to with correct pronunciation before your Iranian friend’s bonfire party, I teach on Preply. We’ll work on your fire-jumping form too. metaphorically. My landlord’s insurance doesn’t cover actual flames.