Could my Persian grandmother be a winner at the Academy Awards?

As it turns out, Solemani’s own grandmother, on whom the film is based, was best friends with my own grandmother (my Bibi), which is how she ended up in a montage of black and white photos in the film. In short, my Gone With the Wind-loving Bibi is currently appearing in an Oscar-shortlisted film. It’s something she would never have dreamed of and I hope she is up there giggling away at the thought.

Whether the film is nominated or not, it’s certainly a story that deserves attention. Following pogroms in the 1800s, the Jews in the region were given the choice – convert or be killed. Most chose a third option: to preserve their Jewish way of life in secret but pretend to live like Muslims. They hid signs of their Judaism, had Muslim names, built secret underground shuls and risked their lives to keep Shabbat and preserve their Jewish way of life. They were subject to raids by local police and were constantly on guard and under threat. That constant tension is something Solemani gets across brilliantly in her film.

My Persian heritage conjures love and sweet-smelling stews, not glamour – unless you count lace doilies 

Stories that broaden people’s understanding of the Jewish experience are more important now than ever. A short film about Mashhad is not going to combat antisemitism, but anything that gives a fuller picture of our complex Jewish journeys, and helps to replace narrow narratives with a more truthful reflection, is worthwhile. Chatting to Solemani at the screening, she also sees the value in “deepening and widening” understanding of our history in the region. But the heart of the film, she says, is about “celebrating the ancestors who survived so much and give us so much strength”. Strength is certainly at the heart of so much Jewish history – across eras and continents.

Sadly, strength is something many in our community have had to find within themselves this year too. And I can’t sign off without mentioning what’s really been so much in my heart and on my mind these last few weeks – ever since my son came downstairs on January 1 and told me one of his friends was missing. Her name was Charlotte and she had last been seen in the bar that caught fire the previous night in Crans-Montana. By now, most of you will know the lovely face of Charlotte Niddam, who four days later was identified among the fatalities. Her friends hoped and prayed for a miracle, but as the injured were accounted for, they prepared themselves for the worst. On the first Sunday of the year, the worst was confirmed.

She has now been laid to rest in Paris, where her family are from. I never met her parents but their unbearable pain has clouded my own mind these last few weeks, as I’m sure it has so many of yours. Witnessing the grief of the 15- and 16-year-olds grappling with the loss of a friend has been heartbreaking too. The horrific circumstances of her death have made it that much harder for them to bear and to fathom.

But if ever there was an illustration of inner strength, it was a moment my friend described to me from the funeral. At the graveside, many of Charlotte’s friends were in a state of despair. Seeing their pain, Charlotte’s father wanted to comfort them and opened his arms out wide to offer them all an embrace – not to weep with them but to console them.

He found it within him to give them a message he wanted them to take with them: that Charlotte would not want them to be sad. Charlotte would want them to have good times, to party and to live life to the full. He had a soft smile on his face, my friend said, and when the kids saw the warmth of his expression, the pain written across their young faces eased too. That thoughtful gesture from a grieving father was the most powerful gift those teenagers could have wished for in that moment. It was a tonic that will stay with them – whether they realise it now or not – and a moment of inner strength to inspire us all.

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Naomi Greenaway is the deputy head of long reads and magazine at the Telegraph