Month: April 2026

At the Agarak border crossing, dust settles on the weary bodies of cars, while a longing for peace hangs heavy in the air. Here, at Armenia’s southern gate, where the Araks River flows silently between two worlds, news of the war does not arrive via screens, but through the stories of those crossing from Iran into Armenia.

Farhad’s story

52-year-old Farhad (name changed), who owns a printing house in Tehran, has temporarily rented accommodation near Meghri before heading to the capital, Yerevan. He says that while he is physically in Armenia, his mind remains in Iran, constantly updating the news feed on his phone.

“Do you know what the most terrifying thing is? It is not the sound of the explosion, but that split second when you hear the roar of a fighter jet in the sky and you do not know what will happen next”, explains Farhad. “We left home in a hurry. My wife wanted to take some belongings, but I told her: Leave them – only passports and medicine. Now I sit here in this calm, wondering if maybe we should have stayed. My friends are there, while I am here, quietly drinking coffee”.

According to Farhad, many Iranians now perceive Armenia as a “haven of peace”.

“We did not come here to stay We have no intention of emigrating from Armenia elsewhere. Our roots are there. I simply want my grandson not to jump out of his sleep at night when a tire bursts outside. Armenia gives us a peaceful night’s sleep”, says Farhad. He adds, however, that their financial savings are not inexhaustible, and he hopes that peace will soon return to their land so they can go back home.

Nazanin’s surprise

23-year-old Nazanin (name changed) reached Yerevan by bus with her parents during the days of conflict. This young student found more than just safety in Armenia.

“When I saw a girl playing guitar at the Cascade, I was genuinely surprised. Something like this cannot be seen in our country”, says Nazanin.

The fear of war in her voice is mixed with a sense of rebellion.

“I am very calm here. I like the pace of everyday life. People here live in the true sense of the word. I have fallen in love with Armenia. Honestly, I would love to live here, although I do not know how feasible it is”, says the student. She adds that if she knew the language, she would love to pursue a master’s degree in Armenia.

Saeid’s economic concerns

In a typical Yerevan courtyard where the children of Iranian migrants play with locals, 65-year-old Saeid sits in his car, engaged in a long phone conversation. He owned a small construction materials shop and a warehouse in Tehran. His house and a lifestyle built over years remained there.

“I am not a big factory owner, I am an ordinary shopkeeper. For fifteen years, I opened my doors at the same time every morning and drank tea with the same people. Now, my neighbor has the keys to my shop. I call every day and ask: ‘What’s the news? Is the building still standing?’. Business must live, if there is no business, there is no money”, says Saeid.

For him, Armenia is not a land of new opportunities but a peaceful harbor.

“I know Iranians who are thinking of starting a business here, but I want to return to my old address. I am currently spending the savings that were meant for buying new stock for my shop. In Iran, with 300 dollars I could feed my entire family for a month. Here, that amount disappears in a few days. Yerevan is expensive. Perhaps if I had an income based on local prices, my mindset would be different, but I am old now; maybe I cannot think anew”.

“Every day, I calculate how much longer I can stay in this rented house. As soon as things settle down a bit, I am going back. Here, I am just a guest, but my life, my goods and my work are there. The war forces us to choose: stay here and adapt, or go back home and take the risk”, says Saeid expressing hope that peace can come to Iran in the same way as it has come to Armenia.

According to Saeid, Armenians, who experienced the war firsthand, do not ask: “Why did you come?”. They simply open their doors. The visa-free regime is a lifeline for Iranians whose homes could be bombed at any moment. In Armenia, they are not strangers. Iranians, with their music, their cuisine and their daily habits, have a place here.

The FIFA Council has announced that the 2029 FIFA U-20 World Cup will be jointly hosted by Armenia and Georgia. This decision marks a new milestone in the global body’s strategy to expand its geographic reach.

This is a landmark appointment. By entrusting Armenia and Georgia with the organization of the 2029 U-20 World Cup, FIFA is betting on an unprecedented co-hosting arrangement for this age group. The two Caucasus nations will have the chance to welcome a major youth tournament, a showcase for the football stars of tomorrow.

“This is an unprecedented achievement for Armenian football. For the first time, our country will host a major international tournament of this scale, demonstrating the great confidence the international football community has in us,” stated the Armenian Football Federation in a press release.

Meanwhile, the next edition of the tournament will be hosted by Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan in 2027.

This selection rewards the efforts made in recent years to modernize sports infrastructure and boost the appeal of their domestic leagues. It also reflects FIFA’s ambition to diversify the host countries for its tournaments, moving beyond the traditional destinations.

Rare books from the personal library of pioneering British scholar of Armenian and Iranian studies Professor Charles Dowsett form part of Sworders’ Books and Maps online sale running through May 4.

Dowsett (1924-1998) established the modern academic foundations for the study of Armenian in the UK, his research spanning medieval Armenian literature, Iranian philology, and the transmission of Near Eastern texts to Europe. His personal library was assembled over decades of study and travel, and the proceeds from the auction will contribute directly to the preservation of the Armenian Institute Library and the core Dowsett collection.

The 578 volumes offered in 31 lots reflect the breadth of Dowsett’s teaching, including folklore and fairytales from Europe to the Caucasus and Central Asia, comparative religion and mythology (spanning Biblical, Islamic and Indo-European traditions), philology and lexicography across Turkic, Persianate and European languages, as well as ethnography and Romani studies plus travel books from Crimea to the Hindu Kush. All have been carefully selected for deaccessioning after a curatorial review with the scope to underwrite the Armenian Institute and their activities of cultural promotion and heritage preservation.

Leading the sale are the three volumes of Richard Burton’s A Pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina (1855). The copy here, a very good set complete with maps and plates is offered together with three other volumes, with an estimate of £3,000-£5000. Other highlights include a first edition copy of Hero Tales and Legends of the Serbians, signed and inscribed by the author Nikolaj Velimirović, the Serb theologian recently deemed Saint Nicholas of Zhicha (estimate: £300-£600), and a group of 19th and 20th century books on witchcraft including a first edition copy of Francois Lenormant’s 1877 Chaldean Magic: Its Origin and Development (estimate: £400-£800)

Proceeds from the auction will contribute directly to the preservation of the Armenian Institute Library, the core Dowsett Collection of Armenia-related volumes, the digitisation of some of its content, and the development and delivery of public and academic programmes that advance understanding of Armenian history, culture, and scholarship.

Three hundred years have gone by, but the Armenian church’s six sonorous bells continue to spread calm, and remind some others of a home far and beyond

Do bells clang, chime, or ring? On Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day on April 24, they seemed to toll, ringing across the streets of George Town.

There is nothing more definitive about this area than a flurry of black lawyer gowns, derelict century-old buildings, and mayhem on the streets. The demeanour of this neighbourhood, just North of Fort St George, insists that in order to be alive, one must first sweat. Amidst the chaos though, is an oasis of iridescent white calm. The 300-year-old church dedicated to Saint Mary — located on Armenian Street opposite the High Court of Madras, acts as an insulator, cutting off honks, chatter and the harsh sun.

Upon entering this chamber of quiet I am struck by the view of a stellar belfry (pronounced bel-free and not fry, as I learnt yesterday). It is the church complex’s only real medium of sound. When we climb to the top and inspect the bells up close, I am unsure about what to expect, particularly because of how old they look.

Jude Johnson, the caretaker of the Armenian church, stands at the precipice of the structure, holding on to six thick ropes, each connected to its six bells, weighing around 150 kilograms each. “Shall I ring it?” he asks. Several deep, heavy clangs rush through the air. “It is a special day, it is okay to ring it,” he reconciles with himself.

“It is so calming, isn’t it?” asks Ashkhen Khachatryan, an Armenian who researches the community’s connection to Chennai.

The 300-year-old bell tower of the Armenian Church of St Mary is one of the most remarkable symbols of Armenian heritage in Chennai, says Ashkhen. “It houses six historic bells, each connected to the story of the Armenian community in old Madras,” she adds.

When early Armenians arrived in Chennai as merchants and traders in the mid 1600s, they began realising the need for a formal space of prayer. The church on the eponymous street was built in 1712 as a small wooden chapel, and later reconstructed in 1772. The six bells in the belfry were used to call the congregation to attend services and gatherings. “At that time, Madras had a larger Armenian population, so the bells played an important community role,” she says.

Ashkhen says that the first and oldest bell, dating to 1754, became even more distinctive when its lettering was reworked in 1808 by a local Madras foundry named Arulapan. The name Arulapan can still be seen on the bell, written in Tamil script. It was gifted in memory of ‘Mnatsakan‘, a then-resident by his father Ghukas. “It makes the bell especially significant, as it reflects a rare meeting of Armenian heritage and Tamil craftsmanship. It shows how the Armenian community in Madras was closely connected with local artisans who helped preserve and maintain their sacred objects,” she says.

All but two bells lie suspended from thick Burma teak beams that seems to have stood the time. “They are impossibly strong and require little maintenance. Just regular cleaning,” Jude says.

Another one of these bells dates to 1778. “There are two others from the 1790s which were donated in memory of Eleazar Shameer, a young member of the prominent Shameer family who died at just 19. The final two bells are from 1837 and were cast in London by Thomas Mears, one of the leading bell foundries of the time. Their donor names are not mentioned, but they were likely gifted by wealthy Armenian benefactors of Madras,” Ashkhen says.

There is a reason why the belfry continues to charm visitors till date. The bells are rung every Sunday morning by the caretaker and whenever Armenians visit the church. Ashken says that her son loves pulling the rope and hearing the peals when they visit.

They are also rung on Armenian Christmas (celebrated in January) , Easter, Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day, Republic Day, and other meaningful community events. “It serves as a living symbol of the Armenian presence in Chennai. Everytime I am there, I think of the time from centuries ago when people from my country once sat in the same chairs listening to this service,” Ashken says.

She adds that for Armenians who visit today, the bells are deeply emotional. Their sound creates a connection between past and present. “Many visitors say they have never heard bells with such a beautiful and powerful tone as the bells of the Armenian Church in Madras. When they ring, it is more than sound — it is memory, identity, and belonging,” she says. “I am several thousand kilometres away from home but during those moments, I am transported.”