Tehran-Martyr Majid Tajan Jar – A scientific genius who traveled from the courtyard of his house in the village of Tajan Ja in Mazandaran to the heart of the AI of the world, now immortalized by the word martian.
Dr. Majid Tajan Jali was a child who not only disassembled the broken radio, but also stitched together scattered pieces like a puzzle to create a future with his tiny hands.
It was as if the inner voice was whispering to him: “The future begins here.” This is a story told by a mother who witnessed every moment…and now, the son, with his glow and blood, tells the silence of the house that her son gave meaning.
A glow that appears to have come from the future…
Some people are born not only in their own time, but in the time that is coming. From his childhood, Dr. Majid Tajan Jali showed this timeless sign with his attitude. This is a sharp, creative mind that quickly blurs the line between play and science.
“I remember one day when we went to the store together. The video players had just arrived. There were about 10 or 11 Majid,” said the mother of the martial artist, Zobaide Haregi.
Their simple courtyard became his lab where he worked in electrical circuits and soldering. “One day he asked me, “Mom, I don’t have a workshop. Can I work here?” I told him, “This house should do what you want.”
Majid’s father, a retired employee, spoke about their financial struggles. “We had very few, but Majid never gave up. At 18, he just built a robot that didn’t move.
Zobeideh continues. Her voice is quiet and choking with emotion. “The pain of losing a child who had built a future can’t bear. The house will feel small without him, and the silence will be bigger than ever.”
But not only is Majid unparalleled with scientific brilliance, his ethics have surpassed normal boundaries. “He was kind to everyone. His respect and politeness was legendary,” says his mother. “Sometimes I thought his “grades” in ethics were endless. ”
Majid’s move to Tehran was quiet and modest. “For 14 years he worked silently,” recalls his mother. “I wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing, but I felt he was fighting for something bigger than me.”
The scent of his shirt still remains at home…
Her voice trembles not from breaking, but from hardening and respecting the pain. Gently she says: “When I saw his body it was as if the world had stopped. I saw him… he always had the same smile he had in my memory.
“He always said, ‘Kiss me on the throat, Mama…” There’s a short silence. The mother looks down and tells the heavy truth: “Every time I visit his house he will say, “Mama, I kiss my throat…”
Our hearts are broken, but we are not falling
In this overwhelming sadness, the voice rises from the depths of faith. I don’t lament, but it’s resilient. “My sister calls every day and asks, and I say to her, “Patience is the only thing planted in my heart, but he left his patience for me.”
“His memories illuminated our lives.”
“Our mother lives with skin and bones. They touch the pain. But every night I say to myself, “Majid, my soul, they have your body from me, your name, your memory, your voice is still with me. Sometimes I still hear the door.
Martial father Ali Tajang Jali is a quiet man with heavy gazes with years of experience, sitting on the couch, flipping through old photos.
In a simple house, he had a global mind
His father, with a faint smile, took a glance towards the courtyard. A quiet pride remains in his eyes: “That simple house, the humble courtyard, has become the birthplace of endless dreams.”
“From that small room he connected with the world. He said, “I will stay in Iran, but my scientific voice must be heard across the border.” And when I was asked where his students were, he often heard him when asked, “Anywhere…Spain, England, Canada, Turkey…”
He built a bridge from failure
Before a brief silence remained between his father’s words, “In one of our talks, he failed many times… But I built a house. A scientific family. All my chances were there.” The group was called “AIO Learn.” I have given you those who rose from the ground and reached the summit. ”
The father places his hand on his chest. As if something was telling him deep inside him, “I didn’t know what Majid was teaching, not because of secrets, but because his side is less noticeable in robots and AI projects.”
“One day we heard that his students had exceeded 500,000. Majid was a teacher with no boundaries, with a virtual blackboard, but it was epic. And it all started in a room where there was no extra chairs. Just a light of love, a laptop, a passion.”
“He always said, ‘Science must be attractive, not fear, it’s just power, it’s just motivation and desire to know.’ ”
The Quran still carrying his presence…
After a while, the father becomes quiet. His eyes settle into a small Quran on the table. It was something he had accompanied his son for years. Slowly, he takes out his glasses, put them down, and quietly recites the poem.
His voice is soft, but his words are clear and solid. He closes the Quran and puts his hand over its cover, as if he still feels the warmth of his son’s hands.
In the silence of the house, only the sound of his breathing can be heard. His gaze remains in the portrait of his son. He doesn’t say anything. But its appearance conveys a thousand implicit words.
The end of the story, the beginning of the road
This chapter in Majid’s life was not just a career, but a part of today’s Iran’s scientific identity. A young man who chose to stay instead of migrating, instead of complaining, chose to build and take root instead of leaving.
In a simple house with his hands on the keyboard and hearts filled with confidence, he trained students who now carry heritage all over the world.
The legacy he planted in his life…
Martyr’s younger sister, Mohaddeseh Tajan-Jari, is composed of frames of images. The soft light from the half-open window falls on her face. Her voice, delicately measured, sways between sadness and pride:
“Sometimes they ask, ‘What did Majid leave behind?’ He had no children or his own family… but I say, “If you know what a child really is.” ”
“Majid was not the father of a child of his blood, but he made one of his heart a father. He named it his company.
She paused briefly, saying, “Majid wasn’t just my brother. He wasn’t my confidant. We never fought.
“When my child was born, he was really happy. He bought some toys and said, ‘He has to grow up smartly.’ He was not a father, but he was a father.
Her voice grows quietly, but it becomes more meaningful. “He didn’t see Martianism in combat alone. He got up to the dawn coding, created ideas and built the future.
“His jihad was the jihad of thought. His battlefield was science, his weapon genius. Martianism was not the end of his path. It was a manifestation of a life of total devotion.”
My brother said “no” to money, “yes” to his hometown
The story changes from emotions to loyalty, from offers to faith. “When a large European company made a phenomenal offer to him, everyone thought his choice was obvious. High pay, easy immigration… I told him, ‘That’s your decision,’ he smiled, and said, ‘Made, I can’t live in a country where they can’t lie day or night about my people.
Pre-defined ascension
Her gaze floats in a distant point, a moment of silence. Then, with inner conviction, she states: “Majid was not born. It was as if he had come down. He left at his peak, not silence when his mission was completed.”
“I think God has always entrusted Majid to us for just 35 years. Now his mission is over… but his voice is still flowing.”
We are still standing…
Today, the small room in Tajang Jhar’s house is silent. The soldering sound disappears, the monitor is dark and the desk is empty. But the ideas that emerged in that room were the pulsation of research, the veins of science, the sky of hope.
Martian Dr. Majid Tajan Jali is no longer among us, but his vision is still shining in the eyes of students. His thoughts live in the code he wrote, the projects he brought to life, the dreams he refused to leave unfinished.
He is gone, but his path remains. His principles believe in raising elites in the soil of his hometown, maintaining buildings, and staying in buildings.
The father with eyes filled with pride spoke of his son, dignified in silence, who wrote a new definition of scientific jihad in action.
And today we are certain: some people will not stay.
Martian Dr. Majid Tajan Jali was more than just a scientific genius. He was a committed, academic, embodied in national life. Those who may cross borders and shine with the world’s finest institutions, but have chosen to stay in this soil, take root and build a bright future.
(Source: Mehr News Agency)