The family home of Mohammad-Javad Tondguyan is more than a residence; it is a living historical record. It was the birthplace and setting of part of the personal and family life of the first oil minister of the Islamic Republic, a figure who became a symbol of committed leadership, deep faith and extraordinary resistance to the enemy. His 11 years of captivity and subsequent martyrdom in Baathist prisons only underscored the magnitude of his character.

The house preserves memories that can pass on his simple lifestyle, public-mindedness and sense of responsibility to future generations. Preserving it is, in effect, preserving a piece of historical identity and revolutionary values; turning it into a museum or cultural memorial could make it a center for education and inspiration.

Dec. 20 marks the anniversary of the return of Tondguyan’s remains to Iran. On that occasion, his son, Mohammad Mehdi Tondguyan, spoke with Shana in the family home about the deepest layers of his memories—from the first, tender image of a father to the heavy grief of orphanhood and an 11-year wait. What follows is not merely the story of a life, but a window into beliefs and sacrifices that shaped an enduring example.

First memories

“My strongest memory of my father is his kindness and fatherly gentleness,” Mohammad Mehdi said. “His presence with the family was brief—he had been imprisoned before the revolution and then quickly absorbed by work afterward, especially when he was at the Oil Ministry. He often came home around midnight. Sometimes I would wake up and find him beside me, taking me to the kitchen, giving me water or comforting me. Our time together was short, but it was filled only with affection.”

A wartime trip to Abadan

One of his last memories was a trip to Abadan during the war, when he accompanied his father. “He was overwhelmed with work, but at night, during late meetings at the guesthouse, I would fall asleep on his lap,” he said. “Even though I was nearly seven and in school, that fatherly care left a lasting mark. I never recall a harsh moment—only kindness.”

He also recalled being taken along to refinery visits and meetings with managers and workers. “It sent a clear message: that even in the worst conditions, he was present—and he brought his family. It showed solidarity with the workers at a time when many were sending their families away.”

Lessons in fatherhood

Asked how his father’s behavior shaped him as a parent, Tondguyan said the experience was limited by loss at a young age. “I wish I could have spent more time with him and learned more. Losing a parent so early matters. Now that I have two children, I feel his influence was small, though I hope at least a trace of him remains in me.”

What ‘oil’ meant to him

Hearing the word “oil,” he said, still evokes “commitment, sensitivity and honor.” He recalled his father opening a post-appointment interview with a Quranic verse, framing oil as a divine gift entrusted to the people. “He believed he was the guardian of that trust—and he gave his life for it. That is a very different way of seeing oil.”

Life after captivity

For a time, the family did not grasp the reality of his captivity. “His absence felt normal; even when he was in Iran, he was rarely home,” Tondguyan said. “At first we were told he was on a mission. Only later, when officials began visiting our home, did I understand something serious had happened.”

During those years, their rented house was bombed and destroyed. The children lived with relatives for a time. “The hardest part,” he said, “was the uncertainty—every night for 11 years wondering whether he was alive or not. You cannot lose hope, but you cannot fully hope either.”

The return of the remains

Tondguyan first encountered his father again at the border, when the body was brought back through Qasr-e Shirin. “It was a mummified body, still recognizable. I saw him and yet did not. At Behesht Zahra in Tehran, the signs of torture were clear. I sat beside him and renewed my pledge, knowing the words I had saved for his return would remain unspoken.”

He was 17 at the time. “Yet I have always felt his presence—more caring than that of a living father.”

A shared wish to preserve a legacy

The family home, he said, is central to preserving that legacy. “This is where my father and I were born, where he grew up. His handwriting is still here. It is filled with his presence.”

He noted the uniqueness of his father’s captivity: abducted from Iranian territory, held alone for 11 years in harsh conditions, never registered with the Red Cross. “These are features that make his case unparalleled and worthy of global recognition.”

Signs of foreknowledge

Before his final trip to Abadan, Tondguyan said, his father settled debts, arranged religious dues and handed his wedding ring to his mother. “It was as if he knew he would not return.” Years later, that ring became his son’s own wedding ring.

An unmatched figure

“What makes a person do this—settle accounts, leave everything behind and go?” he asked. “We owe people like him a great debt. He was not a military man; he could have stayed behind a desk in Tehran. Instead, he went where he believed he was needed. How many oil ministers in the world die on the front lines, endure 11 years of torture and return only as a body?”

Tondguyan said his father became a minister at 30 and spent only a few years with family before enduring years of imprisonment and suffering. “In history, where else do you find a life like this?”