By Sarath Obeysekera

Recent events have once again brought Iran into the international spotlight. Much of what the world sees today is shaped by geopolitics, sanctions and military tensions. Yet my memories of Iran are quite different. 

They are the memories of a shipbuilder and businessman who had the privilege of working closely with the Iranian shipping industry during a significant period in Sri Lanka’s maritime history.
During my tenure as Chief Executive Officer of one of Sri Lanka’s leading shipyards, Iranian vessels—including tankers operated by the national Iranian fleet and joint Iranian-Indian ventures such as IRESL were regular visitors to Colombo. Tankers of up to approximately 125,000 tonnes frequently called at our yard for periodic surveys, repairs and maintenance. Each docking represented a contract worth close to one million US dollars, making Iran an important customer for our ship repair industry.
Negotiating these contracts required frequent visits to Tehran. Those trips offered an insight into a country that was often misunderstood by outsiders.

Arrival in Tehran was always an experience. Immigration officers were polite but cautious, reflecting the atmosphere of a nation living under international scrutiny. Waiting outside was our local agent, a retired Admiral from the Shah’s era who had married a British lady. Despite the political changes around him, he remained sophisticated, cosmopolitan and exceptionally well connected.
Before taking us to the hotel, he invariably insisted we visit his luxurious apartment. One feature that fascinated me was his living room curtains, cleverly designed to conceal satellite dishes that enabled him to receive foreign television broadcasts despite official restrictions. It was a small but telling reminder that people often find practical ways to stay connected with the outside world.

His British wife prepared wonderful meals. I still remember the traditional Persian rice with its prized golden crust, together with generous servings of beef and lamb. Equally surprising was his well-stocked bar filled with expensive imported liquor—something few foreigners would have expected to find in post-revolutionary Iran.
Only afterwards would he drive us to our hotel. The hotel itself was comfortable rather than luxurious, but one detail left a lasting impression. At the entrance, the tiled floor displayed the American flag together with the slogan Down with America.” Every guest entering the hotel walked across it, symbolising the political rhetoric of the time.
Yet beyond these public displays, everyday life often painted a more nuanced picture.

One of the Iranian superintendents whose vessels we serviced invited us to his home. Outside, his young wife and daughters strictly observed the dress code, wearing long black coverings whenever they appeared in public. Once inside their home, however, the atmosphere changed completely. The women exchanged their outdoor clothing for fashionable Western-style dresses, wore makeup and entertained guests with warmth and confidence. It was a vivid illustration of the distinction between public conformity and private life in Iran.

I also came to know senior executives of the Iranian shipping industry. One influential chairman invited me to a beautiful café high in the hills overlooking Tehran. During the Shah’s time it had been an elegant liquor lounge; after the revolution it had become a traditional tea house. The transformation of the building itself mirrored the transformation of the country.
During one conversation, this senior executive quietly confided that he wished to accumulate foreign currency outside Iran. He mentioned that his brother, who lived in Switzerland, would contact me. Some time later the brother visited Sri Lanka, and we reached a mutually acceptable commercial arrangement connected with the ship repair business. Such informal financial mechanisms were perhaps an inevitable consequence of the international sanctions and banking restrictions that affected Iran during that era.

Years later, after I had moved to the United Kingdom, I learnt that this powerful shipping executive had been arrested on corruption charges. I was told that under Iranian law at the time, those found guilty of financial misconduct could, in certain cases, avoid harsher punishment by repaying the misappropriated funds together with an equivalent financial penalty. Whether entirely accurate or not, it reflected a legal approach that differed considerably from many other jurisdictions.

Today, when I watch television coverage from Tehran, I notice another striking change. Many younger Iranian women appear dressed in modern fashions, with colourful clothing and stylish makeup, often wearing their head coverings more loosely than in decades past. Society has clearly evolved, even while remaining within the framework of the Islamic Republic.
Iran is a nation of remarkable contrasts. It possesses immense natural resources, an ancient civilisation stretching back thousands of years, highly educated people and a strategic maritime position connecting the Persian Gulf with global trade routes. Its history is rich, its culture sophisticated and its people remarkably resilient.
Those of us who dealt with Iran professionally discovered that beneath the political slogans was a society of capable engineers, experienced mariners, hospitable families and pragmatic businesspeople. The friendships formed through maritime commerce demonstrated that trade often builds bridges where politics erects barriers.
As Sri Lanka looks to strengthen its maritime economy once again, it is worth remembering that shipping has always been more than ships and cargo. It is about relationships, trust and mutual respect between people from different nations.
My memories of Iran remain not those of headlines and conflict, but of negotiations in Tehran, friendships forged over Persian hospitality and the enduring lesson that every nation has two stories—the one told by politics, and the one lived by its people.

Dr Sarath Obeysekera