Two years ago, I left Magam in Budgam district of Jammu and Kashmir with a suitcase full of books and my parents’ prayers. I was going to Tehran University of Medical Sciences to pursue my MBBS degree.It was the first time I had travelled so far from home — into a country where the language, the streets, the food, everything felt unfamiliar. I was excited because I could see my dream of becoming a doctor come true. But today, that dream feels fragile.Since 28 February, life here has not been normal. We had sensed rising tensions for weeks. Something similar had happened in June 2025, and it eventually calmed down.This time, too, we told ourselves it would pass. We kept attending classes. We prepared for exams. We called home and reassured our families. Then Israel and the United States launched strikes on Iran in broad daylight.The first explosions were distant but unmistakable. Windows shook. Car alarms went off. My phone was filled with messages: “Did you hear that?” We stood in the corridors, reading fear in each other’s faces, hoping someone would say it was an overreaction. But it wasn't.Since then, fighter jets have been roaring overhead day and night, and bomb blasts can be heard every now and then.We knew from past escalations that leaving early back home in India can be safer. I would have gone home if I could. But our university scheduled exams for 5 March and strongly advised us not to leave, warning that our academic year could be jeopardised. For families like mine, who have invested everything in our education, losing a year is not an option. So we stayed.Now we are questioning our decision. Mobile networks and internet services have become unreliable due to infrastructure damage. Sometimes there is no signal for hours. Sometimes calls drop mid-sentence. When I do reach home, I keep it brief.Iran Has Been Attacked By US and Israel When Peace Was Within Reach“I’m fine,” I say. “Don’t worry.” But I am not fine.I want to tell Abbu how grateful I am for his sacrifices. I want to tell Maa how much I miss her — her cooking, her voice in the kitchen, the comfort of home. Even before the war, there were nights I wished I could hug her just once.But I stop myself. If I speak too long, I will cry. And if I cry, they will hear the fear.The uncertainty is the worst part. Strikes are unpredictable. They can target any city, any neighbourhood. Electricity cuts out without warning. Even stepping out for basic supplies feels risky.We analyse every sound. Was that a blast? Was it closer this time?I grew up in Kashmir, witnessing conflict — tense nights, curfews, and stories of violence. When I left for Iran, I believed I was stepping into stability, into a life focused only on medicine, textbooks and hospital rotations. Instead, I find myself in another war zone.Loud explosions now trigger panic attacks. My heart races. Sometimes I feel like running somewhere — anywhere — without knowing where safety lies. During one intense night of airstrikes, I found myself whispering my mother’s name over and over, as if she could hear me across borders.US‑Israeli Attack On Iran Risks Plunging The World Into TurmoilThe news of schoolchildren dying in airstrikes affects me deeply. They were innocent. They had dreams, just like us. It feels as though part of my generation is being erased.Sleep offers no escape. I dream of blood and fire. Of collapsing buildings. Of injured children. When I wake up, it takes a few seconds to remember where I am, and then reality returns.I came here to become a doctor, to save lives, not to fear losing my own in a conflict that has nothing to do with me.And yet, here we are — foreign students caught in geopolitics far beyond our control.There is kindness, too. My Iranian classmates sit with me when I feel overwhelmed. They bring tea. Some of their parents have invited us home, so we do not feel alone. In those moments, humanity shines through destruction. But for them, too, the situation is overwhelming. The death of the supreme leader of Iran, Ayatollah Ali Hosseini Khamenei, has left them devastated. Amidst the strike, echoes of mourning have filled the streets of Tehran.All I want is to complete my education and return safely to my parents. I want to wear a white coat one day and make them proud. I want to heal wounds instead of living among them.I hope the Indian Embassy and the Ministry of External Affairs will evacuate us from here, just like they did last time.Right now, safety feels uncertain, and the future is unclear. But the determination that brought me from Kashmir to Tehran remains. I am holding on to that. Because sometimes, in war, hope is the only thing we have left.Ayatollah Khamenei Ruled Iran With an Iron Fist. He Will Not Be Revered By Many(All 'My Report' branded stories are submitted by citizen journalists to The Quint. Though The Quint inquires into the claims/allegations from all parties before publishing, the report and the views expressed above are the citizen journalist's own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)