Sadeh or the Small Forty Celebration
On the 10th of Bahman last year, while I was keen to experience ancient festivals up close, I traveled to Kerman with a tour to attend the Sadeh celebration. In my mind, Sadeh seemed somewhat like Chaharshanbe Suri, but that night, when we gathered in a neighborhood called “Baghcheh Bedagh Abad” on Sadeh Street, it was incredibly fascinating. I saw people of all kinds—men and women, Muslims, Zoroastrians, Christians, Jews—from Tehran, Karaj, Yazd, Ahvaz, Shiraz, Isfahan, surrounding villages, and even European, American, and Australian tourists, all gathered hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, around the fire. The fire symbolized “Ahura Mazda,” representing light and life. This unity and connection across cities and countries, combined with high cultural sophistication, moved me deeply, as the flame of love and friendship ignited in my heart and soul, warming me from within and giving energy and light.
That night was perhaps the first time in my life that I was among thousands of people of different genders, sects, races, religions, and beliefs, where only love, friendship, and solidarity were the guiding principles. I directly experienced “all different but all relatives.”
Yes, on the 10th of Bahman every year, people gather to honor and respect fire, according to their belief that this day marks the “birth of fire,” and with faith in the defeat of darkness, cold, and evil (symbols of demonic forces), they make a covenant of “peace and friendship” and share a table of warmth, light, energy, and kindness.
Sadeh falls on the fortieth day after the Sun’s birth, marking forty days into winter and the end of the Great Forty (Yalda). It is a time when people eagerly counted nights and days toward Nowruz, and the sum of fifty days and fifty nights makes one hundred days and nights before Nowruz.
In ancient Iranian culture, Sadeh was the festival of discovering and honoring fire. Ancient Iranians celebrated it at night, going to the desert, setting piles of brushwood and twigs on fire, dancing, and rejoicing. As Nezami said:
Adorned faces, hands decorated,
They ran in joy from every direction.
They believed that the fire destroyed the remnants of cold and warmed the earth, and lighting a fire like the sun strengthened the sun’s warmth and power.
Some scholars believe the festival was established by Houshang upon discovering fire. Others link it to the one hundred children of Keyumars, celebrating when they reached maturity. Some suggest the festival is 7,000 years old.
Sadeh occurs forty days after Yalda Night, marking the Sun’s birth—the Sun’s Forty. Celebrated at night, the night symbolizes darkness, representing the primordial chaos believed to rule the world before creation. Thus, lighting a fire at night signifies a return to beginnings and a renewal of the world.
In the past, Sadeh was celebrated in all cities of Iran, especially Isfahan, with grandeur. During the era of Mardavij Ziyari, in the 40th Hijri year, wooden birds were carved along the Zayandeh Rud River, soaked in special oil, and set on fire at sunset. The spectacle made it appear as if fiery birds were flying above the river, and people danced and rejoiced beneath them.
Today, in Kurdistan, Baluchistan, and the Turkmen desert, farmers celebrate Sadeh with enthusiasm from sunset to dawn. Zoroastrians in Kerman and Yazd hold special ceremonies for this agricultural and pastoral festival. Al-Biruni notes that at the end of winter, when the cold is severe, this festival brings warmth, joy, and vitality.
Again, joy, light, warmth, solidarity, and kindness—all are building blocks of peace. When we laugh together, our hearts and words aligned, we suddenly think: “Joy across the universe conveys peace, friendship, and coexistence.”
