Nowruz: how the West got the new year wrong

The 3,000-year-old new year from Balkh, that still outsmarts the Gregorian calendar.

We are just days away from Nowruz, the Persian New Year, on 20th March 2025—the first day of spring. And yet, most of the world has already toasted to a "new year" in January, wrapped in woolly scarves, nursing colds, and wondering why life still feels exactly the same.

Let me break it to you gently: the West got it wrong.

A new year in January? - the ultimate seasonal mismatch.

Think about it. Celebrating the New Year in the dead of winter, when everything is lifeless, grey, and miserable? That’s like throwing a birthday party for a bear while it’s hibernating. No energy. No warmth. Just frostbite and regrets.

But in Afghanistan, Iran, and Tajikistan—once part of the greater Persian cultural sphere—we’ve always known better. We celebrate Nowruz, which literally translates to “new day”, on the first day of spring—when the earth awakens, flowers bloom, and the world starts again. A real beginning.

The Persian scholar Al-Biruni, writing in the 10th century, put it plainly: “It is the belief of the Persians that Nowruz marks the first day when the universe started its motion.” The ancient world understood this. But then, as with so many things, power, politics, and a few emperors with bad ideas got in the way.

Blame Rome. (And also, the Pope.)

Historically, the New Year made a lot more sense. The Romans originally celebrated it on March 1st. Logical, right? Then in 153 BC, they moved it to January to align with the political calendar of newly elected consuls. Julius Caesar cemented this change in 45 BC with his Julian calendar. But even then, most of medieval Europe refused to go along with it. Some rang in the year on March 25th, others on Christmas.

Then came 1582 AD. Pope Gregory XIII introduced the Gregorian calendar, which finally locked in January 1st as New Year's Day in the West. And because European colonialism ensured that Western ideas stampeded across the globe, this arbitrary winter celebration became the default.

But the people of Balkh—one of the birthplaces of Nowruz, and a city so ancient it makes Rome look like a teenager—never abandoned the logic of the seasons. They knew that a new year should follow the rhythms of the earth, not the whims of men in togas.

And so the timing of Nowruz isn’t just symbolic—it’s scientifically precise. It aligns with the vernal equinox, the celestial moment when the sun crosses the equator and day and night are equal. Everything—plants, animals, people—feels the shift.

The Zoroastrians, who first celebrated Nowruz over 3,000 years ago, built their calendar around the sun, ensuring that the year began with spring’s arrival. The great Persian polymath Omar Khayyam, who lived his early life in Balkh, refined it further in the 11th century, creating a calendar so accurate that it surpasses both the Julian and Gregorian systems. (Yes, surpasses. The West is still playing catch-up.)

Despite the weight of empires and forced calendar reforms, Nowruz lives on. Today, millions celebrate it across Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Pakistan, India (among Parsis), Turkey, Albania, Georgia, Bosnia, and even parts of Iraq, Syria, Russia and China. It is an inheritance of a world that once followed the earth, not arbitrary dates decided by rulers.

And let’s not forget—the idea of celebrating new beginnings in early spring isn’t unique to Persians. The Chinese New Year or the Spring Festival in February marks the end of winter and the coming of warmth. Holi, the festival of colours in March in India is a festival of renewal. Japan’s Hanami sees entire cities pause to marvel at the cherry blossoms—because spring is the season of rebirth.

Nowruz isn’t just a New Year’s celebration. It’s a philosophy. A reminder that life begins again, no matter how long the winter has been. It’s about shaking off the dust of the past and stepping into renewal, cleansed and ready for what comes next.

The Romans—and later, medieval Europe—pushed the world into January. But history, nature, and common sense tell us that spring was always meant to be the beginning.

And for over 3,000 years, we—those of us who trace our roots back to Balkh, to Persia, to the lands that watched empires rise and fall—have kept Nowruz alive.

My family have been living away from Afghanistan for almost 45 years. My siblings were born in the West, raised with the Gregorian calendar, yet every year, we mark Nowruz as the real beginning. Because no matter where we are in the world, we know that a new year should feel like renewal—not frostbite and forced resolutions.