Prologue - In Search of Freedom

Prologue

1975 – A remote village in Northern Afghanistan.

Is it wrong to love, and be loved in return? Is it wrong to hold and be held in return? Is it wrong to make other people happy and be made happy in return? Is it wrong to feel and be felt? Is it wrong to hear and be heard? Is it wrong to see and be seen? Is it wrong to give life whilst keeping it? Is it wrong to be a woman?
These thoughts were running in Zemirah’s head, as she sat in the corner of the tiny room. The smell of human excreta did not bother her. The fact that she was seated in the excreta, her own excreta did not bother her. The pain did not bother her. She only prayed for one thing. That the child she was about to give birth to be a boy and not a girl. At least then she would know that he could hope for a better life. Zemirah looked back on how this night mare began. She realized now, trust no one.

It was the summer. Although the evenings were cold, the inside of the house was very warm. Or at least that was how Zemirah felt. She could feel herself changing. She had felt this way for quite sometime now. Two, three years perhaps, but at that time, she felt it was only on the inside. But now, all of a sudden it was on the outside too. One morning, she had awoken, to find her thighs and bed covers drenched in blood. Shocked, she had screamed for help. Her father had come running in, he was overjoyed at what had happened. By afternoon, the whole village knew about it.
The only thing Zemirah felt was, confused. She had heard some of the women saying that she had grown up, and about time too. But, she thought, doesn’t that happen gradually, and not all of a sudden, growing up. A friend of hers, who was much older to her had a chat with her the next day, ‘Zemirah, what has happened is a very happy thing, it happens to all of us.’
‘Has it happened to you?’ asked Zemirah.
‘Yes it has.’ replied Farah, her friend.
‘Has it happened to my father and brother and mother?’
Farah burst out laughing, and could not help thinking how innocent Zemirah was, ‘No, it happens only to girls.’
‘Why? Why does it happen only to girls?’
‘Zemirah, you ask far too many questions. All I can tell you is this. It’s a good thing. But now, you have to be careful. You are no longer a girl. You are now a woman. You have to cover yourself properly at all times. Soon, your father and brother will find you a husband.’
‘But I don’t want a husband!’
‘Don’t be silly child. Now you’ve talked enough. Go to bed. Sweet dreams.’ having said that Farah left, Zemirah sat on her bed.
Thoughts were running through her head. She looked up through the small window in the room. The inky black sky was outside. A lone star twinkled brightly. Zemirah thought that the star resembled her. Isolated. Suddenly, she started to feel very warm again. A walk outside ought to do her some good. She thought about waking her brother up, but that did not seem like a good idea, for that would only be cause for her to get shouted at. How she wished her father was here. He had gone to work some where.
She climbed out of her bed, put on her clothes, and covered her head. She was required to do so now, and quietly slipped out of the house. She knew of a place, her friends called ‘Big Rock’. There was an enormous rock where you could sit and get a bit of shade, but now, there was no need of shade. Still, her feet took her there. She sat, her back to the rock, and looked up at the sky.
The sky had always fascinated her. The little dots that glowed in it in the night, and the one big enormous dot that shone in it in the day. This was what God had created. God must be a great man she thought. Meeting him might be an honour. But where is he. Some people said he was up there in the sky. Others said he was all around, everywhere. Everywhere but where. She felt strongly about God.
Suddenly noises were coming from the other side of the rock. A boy a few years older to her emerged from behind the rock. Her impulse was to scream, but she thought better of it. This was it. He was going to run and tell her brother. What would he do? Would he beat her up, disown her perhaps. People said her brother was a religious man, and followed the teachings and laws of Islam very strictly. She cowered at the base of the rock, waiting to hear the footsteps running in the direction of her house, and a voice shouting out for her brother. But they never came.
She picked up the courage to take a peek. The boy was still standing there. Looking down at her, their eyes met, he smiled. Zemirah felt something welling up in her chest. She quickly cowered again, ‘Friend, why do you shy away from me, I am not going to hurt you?’ asked the boy. Zemirah said nothing. In the silence of the night, she thought she could hear her own heart beating. What is wrong with him she thought, he should be running off to tell my brother. Or at least he should be getting away from me. But the boy stood there, ‘Friend, why are you hiding your face, for it is beautiful, you should not hide it.’
Zemirah was shocked! She looked up at the boy. He moved his hand. She immediately ducked, ‘Please, I only give you my hand to stand up.’ Zemirah looked up again. She saw his hand. What was he asking her to do, hold his hand, he must really be mad, ‘Take my hand, I will help you stand up. I am not going to hurt you! Please.’ Zemirah continued to stare at him, his hand outstretched.
She could not help but notice how dark and black his eyes were. How charming he looked. His hand was also shivering, was it the cold, or was he feeling as she was. Finally, reluctantly, she gave him her hand. He held her hand in his. If felt warm, it felt rough, it felt soft. It felt good.
Slowly she got to her feet. She kept staring at the ground and could not help herself but smile, ‘You must not be seen out here alone at this hour. It is dangerous. You cannot trust these Russians.’ Zemirah turned to leave and started walking away, ‘By the way, I am Rauf.’
‘Thank you. I know you are merciful.’
‘No, my name, is Rauf, it means merciful, but it is my name.’ said Rauf.
‘And you are worthy of that name,’ she looked into his eyes, ‘friend.’ Zemirah turned once again and walked away. That was the first time.
She knew she should feel shameful and scared, but if she felt anything other than happy she did not know. She wanted to leap and shout. She also felt a little stupid, thinking that he was proclaiming himself to be merciful. What was she thinking?
That night, for the first time in many nights, she slept, contented. She felt warm, but this time it was the bed covers. She looked out through her window. The single star was still there. Some how, she felt it was shining brighter than it had shone before she went out, like her, it looked full.

She knew she should not go out to meet him again, but night after night, almost every night, Zemirah snuck out of the house. Rauf was waiting by the rock for her. They spent hours talking. At first she was shy, not speaking more than a few words. But with Rauf’s tenderness and encouragement, she opened up. They discussed many things. She found that they shared many similarities. He felt happy in her arms as she felt safe in his. Although Zemirah did not know it, she was experiencing what most people take for granted and call, love.
They continued to see each other, less frequently as time progressed. It was Rauf’s idea though, so that no one would get suspicious. Zemirah could hardly wait for the time when she would get to be with Rauf. She tried her best to look and behave normally through the day, some how, she felt that her brother did not like happiness. Months passed, in that time she learned that Rauf had been to university and was going to Pakistan soon to find work. From there he had told her that he would try to go to America. And then he had promised her he would be back for her and he would not forget about her.

As planned, Zemirah sneaked out of the house once her brother had gone to sleep. She took her normal route to the rock, making sure that no one saw her, no one heard her. As she moved away from the village she broke into a run. As she came close to the rock, Rauf appeared, she ran into his arms, into his safe arms.
‘My song of joy, you made it? Did anyone see you, hear you?’ asked Rauf.
‘No one, I am careful you know!’
‘I do.’
‘Why did you ask me to meet you here so suddenly? Why couldn’t you wait for our planned time tomorrow?’
‘I have something to tell you!’
‘What is it?’
‘I have been thinking for a long time and I have made a decision, a very strong one.’ Zemirah looked worried, ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing sad. You know I’ve been telling you about America and all that?’
‘Yes?’
‘I have been thinking and I have realised that I will not be able to live without you, my song of joy!’
‘Oh Rauf…’
‘Hush! Therefore I have decided, that tomorrow, I will ask your father for your hand in marriage.’
‘What? Are you telling the truth?
‘Yes.’
‘I can trust you.’
‘Never trust anyone my song of joy, never!’
‘Why?’
‘You ask too many questions, perhaps some day you will understand, for now listen, don’t trust anyone,’ said Rauf firmly, ‘but now I have to ask you something.’
‘What?’
‘Are you willing to be my wife?’ asked Rauf solemnly.
‘Don’t be silly, that is not my choice to make.’
‘It is, if you don’t want to there’s no point in me asking your father.’
‘In that case, I would love to marry you.’
‘I knew it! I knew it! My song of joy, you have brought more joy into my life than joy itself.’ Rauf embraced her and they hugged for a long time. And then they could not resist the urges that were building up inside both of them. They made love under the stars. Although Zemirah had never experienced what she was experiencing just now, she felt like she had wanted it all her life.
The two of them lay side by side, star gazing. The heavens looked down upon the heaven that they had just created. It was a wonderful feeling and Zemirah wanted it to never end. She had never felt so happy, so contented, so loved, so warm, so secure. She had never felt like this before.
After a time, Rauf looked at her, his warm black eyes, ‘We must now part, it will be light in a while, and I must make preparations to meet your father.’
‘I will be waiting for you.’
‘And I will not disappoint.’

But he did not show up the next day. Zemirah waited and waited, but Rauf did not come. He would not let her down. Later that day, a friend brought Zemirah news that the Russians had killed a boy in the village. His name was Rauf. A stray bullet had gone through his head. All Zemirah felt at the sound of this news was a white numbness. Beyond sadness. Beyond agony. Beyond pain. What she would do she did not know.
Ten days later her father died. A month later, she found out that she was pregnant. She kept it a secret, but something that big, cannot be kept secret for that long.

And now, she was seated or rather crumpled in this corner of this filthy room. All because she had loved and been loved. Her brother was responsible for this. He had condemned her, he and his Mujahideen Fighter friends. They claimed to fight for peace, for God, but were they? But she felt no anger toward them, only pity.
She must save her child she thought. She could not save herself now. She must save her child, their child. How happy Rauf would have been if he had been here today. The labour pains were coming up now. The room was so cold. The door opened and a cold wind rushed in. It was dark outside. A woman entered. She was carrying a basket in one hand and a bag in the other. She was plump, and looked old. She closed the door, ‘Are you in much pain, child?’
‘Yes!’ Zemirah gasped. The old woman started taking a few things out of her bag. Zemirah looked at the woman, she looked shocked, ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m trying to give you something for the pain.’
‘Don’t!’
‘What? Why? It’ll be good for you.’ said the lady, looking bit shocked.
‘I need the pain to help me not to think about other things and people.’ said Zemirah bitterly. Her labour pains were getting more and more intense.
The lady started using antiseptics and covered Zemirah with a blanket, and made other preparations for birth. Zemirah was now shouting and screaming in pain. She prayed that the child about to be born be a boy. The pains were reaching a crescendo. The lady, was shouting, ‘Push my child, push. You’re almost there.’ Zemirah was pushing as hard as she could, but nothing was happening. The harder she pushed, the harder it became for her to push. Finally, she pushed as hard as she could and suddenly started to feel the pain subsiding. The lady had a child wrapped in a white blanket. She was about to hand the blanket over to Zemirah, ‘I don’t want to see the child. Just tell me is it a boy?’
A grave look came over the old woman’s face. She didn’t have to say anymore. Zemirah was beyond tears, ‘Take her, give her a better life. Just go.’
‘Your brother…’ began the old woman.
‘My brother is not a religious man, he is a devilish man. He works not for God but the Devil.’
‘But…’
‘Just get out! Take the child. Give her a better life than god gave me. Give her a life! Keep her alive!’ The old woman got up and left, with Zemirah’s daughter.
Zemirah sat there in the corner, a deep void in her heart. She felt nothing. Nothing! Like a body without a soul. She turned and saw a window, through which she saw an inky black sky. A lone star was twinkling weakly in the distance. Tears welled up in Zemirah’s eyes.