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Once upon a time in a land of tall mountains where people celebrated their good fortune by dancing in circles to the beat of a drum, bridging the gap of time and space, there lived a girl who, in accordance with her ravishing beauty, we´ll call Shaperaii, a fairy. Her only weakness in life was her immortal love for her husband, an ishq so passionate that God himself felt the earth was unworthy of it and decided to let it die.
Many dark years later, after a few wars their mountainous paradise has become a mountainous hell. The drum is now silent and dancers remain in the Stone Age. God seems to have left the picture; her husband is long gone too. Her love has faded away, like much in this oblivient world. And as for the girl, well let's just hope she's in a better place now.
In her memory:
باران داوښکو مې وریږي
بې نیازه یار مې په زړه راکړل پر هارونه
دا باران د ملغلرو
یا د اوښکو فوارۍ دي
The present:
She sat on the cold, hard concrete floor drenched in her own tears as the sound of raindrops falling around her slowly drove her insane. She just couldn't take it anymore. They didn't let her sleep at night; it was either the war, bullets and explosions or worse, the rain. Always the rain. It was midnight now; she got up and walked to the main street.
There was a small group of children playing with something that looked an old rocket launcher and some soldiers had set up a check point. She ran towards them and started shouted and cursing, she threw rotten fruit at them and begged them to make the rain stop. Some of the younger kids ran away while the older ones started teasing her. "Lewanaii " they called her, crazy woman. She wasn't always like this, but as the old saying goes, "love's greatest ability is that it changes everything it touches."
The past:
Shaperaii was the youngest of 5 daughters born to an old illiterate couple in a small village. Her parents loved her dearly and sent her to school, something they hadn't done for their other daughters.
She was a popular, ambitious student at school and had no shortage of friends. She later got a scholarship to study at a prestigious high school and moved to the city.
It was in high school that she met Almar, the son of a butcher. The two of them became great friends. After talking to each other for a while, they fell in love and decided to get married. Almar would get a job, and Shaperaii would take care of their family.
Shaperaii´s parents were happy, while Almar had to convince his father, who eventually agreed. They got married. Nothing big, but they did let the whole of Kabul know. The new couple was happy, so were their families. But it was the kind of happiness that comes before a long period of sadness.
Shortly after their marriage, Afghanistan was invaded by the Soviet Union and Shaperaii´s village, a centre of the Afghan resistance had been levelled, and her parents were no exception.
After the Soviet forces gained control of his city, Almar had changed. He was no longer the same kind and caring broad-minded young man Shaperaii had fallen for. He was different.
Like Shaperaii's family, Almar and his father were religious, conservative people who couldn't bear to see their beloved country become a khalqi state with no room for the very God that created them.
Almar had become more and more interested in the Afghan resistance groups like the mujahedeen and their cause. He started talking about jihad and left his old friends who saw the invasion as a step towards modernization. Munafiqs he called them.
"They're all munafiqs. Their fathers are rich, they can afford to leave the country whenever they want. They have no ghairat, no nang or namus. Not a single concern for the rest of us, the real citizens of this country."
A month later, he decided to leave his wife and go fight the invaders. His father begged him not to and so did Shaperaii, but Almar left anyway.
His final words:
"I am going whether you like it or not. I have an obligation to defend my people and our din. What kind of people will we be if we let them do as they please in our land? I'll come back one day insha`Allah. When they leave, I will come back and we will start a family."
Shaperaii still pleaded. She told him she would die if he left, she even tried to stop him physically from walking out the door, but he left. He was gone.
This was the last time she heard his voice and the last time she'll see him standing.
She spent the next few weeks waiting for Almar. No news arrived. She started praying for the Soviets to leave.
Almar's father was very sick now. Doctors told her that it was only a matter of days and that she'd better arrange for a janaaza, a funeral. She hired people to look for Almar, but it wasn't any use. He was off the grid, but not for long.
Almar returned on the day of his father's funeral as a corpse. Shaperaii didn't have the heart see him lying on the floor, wrapped in a white sheet soaked in blood. She had lost it.
"Get up! Wake up! Wake up! The Soviets have left, we won Almar! Wake up! Look! Now we can have our family. They've gone!"
She cried hysterically. She shook his body. She slapped him, but no matter what she did, he never woke up.
It rained heavily. She spent the next few nights in the graveyard crying. The rain added oil to the fire growing inside of her. She believed the rain was Almar's tears. She looked up at the night sky. She shouted,
"Stop crying! For God’s sake, stop it!"
The Present:
"Lewanaii! Lewanaii!" the kids followed her as she headed towards the edge of the mountain.
"Hey where are you going? Do you want to die? You crazy woman!" one of the soldiers yelled. But Shaperaii ignored him.
She looked down from where she was standing; she saw the valley and the people below who looked like little ants. She thought of Almar. Their wedding. The songs he sang for her in high school,
I wish I could hold you in my arms, while you hold me in yours, and the night would never end, we could have quenched the unquenchable thirst of our desires.
She heard the Azzan, the call to prayer. Looking up, at the clear blue sky, she said,
"You took my family and you took my love, but you won't take me."
She closed her eyes and pictured Almar, her only love. She smiled, took a deep breath and jumped.
------------------------------------------------
Many dark years later, after a few wars their mountainous paradise has become a mountainous hell. The drum is now silent and dancers remain in the Stone Age. God seems to have left the picture; her husband is long gone too. Her love has faded away, like much in this oblivient world. And as for the girl, well let's just hope she's in a better place now.
In her memory:
باران داوښکو مې وریږي
بې نیازه یار مې په زړه راکړل پر هارونه
دا باران د ملغلرو
یا د اوښکو فوارۍ دي
The present:
She sat on the cold, hard concrete floor drenched in her own tears as the sound of raindrops falling around her slowly drove her insane. She just couldn't take it anymore. They didn't let her sleep at night; it was either the war, bullets and explosions or worse, the rain. Always the rain. It was midnight now; she got up and walked to the main street.
There was a small group of children playing with something that looked an old rocket launcher and some soldiers had set up a check point. She ran towards them and started shouted and cursing, she threw rotten fruit at them and begged them to make the rain stop. Some of the younger kids ran away while the older ones started teasing her. "Lewanaii " they called her, crazy woman. She wasn't always like this, but as the old saying goes, "love's greatest ability is that it changes everything it touches."
The past:
Shaperaii was the youngest of 5 daughters born to an old illiterate couple in a small village. Her parents loved her dearly and sent her to school, something they hadn't done for their other daughters.
She was a popular, ambitious student at school and had no shortage of friends. She later got a scholarship to study at a prestigious high school and moved to the city.
It was in high school that she met Almar, the son of a butcher. The two of them became great friends. After talking to each other for a while, they fell in love and decided to get married. Almar would get a job, and Shaperaii would take care of their family.
Shaperaii´s parents were happy, while Almar had to convince his father, who eventually agreed. They got married. Nothing big, but they did let the whole of Kabul know. The new couple was happy, so were their families. But it was the kind of happiness that comes before a long period of sadness.
Shortly after their marriage, Afghanistan was invaded by the Soviet Union and Shaperaii´s village, a centre of the Afghan resistance had been levelled, and her parents were no exception.
After the Soviet forces gained control of his city, Almar had changed. He was no longer the same kind and caring broad-minded young man Shaperaii had fallen for. He was different.
Like Shaperaii's family, Almar and his father were religious, conservative people who couldn't bear to see their beloved country become a khalqi state with no room for the very God that created them.
Almar had become more and more interested in the Afghan resistance groups like the mujahedeen and their cause. He started talking about jihad and left his old friends who saw the invasion as a step towards modernization. Munafiqs he called them.
"They're all munafiqs. Their fathers are rich, they can afford to leave the country whenever they want. They have no ghairat, no nang or namus. Not a single concern for the rest of us, the real citizens of this country."
A month later, he decided to leave his wife and go fight the invaders. His father begged him not to and so did Shaperaii, but Almar left anyway.
His final words:
"I am going whether you like it or not. I have an obligation to defend my people and our din. What kind of people will we be if we let them do as they please in our land? I'll come back one day insha`Allah. When they leave, I will come back and we will start a family."
Shaperaii still pleaded. She told him she would die if he left, she even tried to stop him physically from walking out the door, but he left. He was gone.
This was the last time she heard his voice and the last time she'll see him standing.
She spent the next few weeks waiting for Almar. No news arrived. She started praying for the Soviets to leave.
Almar's father was very sick now. Doctors told her that it was only a matter of days and that she'd better arrange for a janaaza, a funeral. She hired people to look for Almar, but it wasn't any use. He was off the grid, but not for long.
Almar returned on the day of his father's funeral as a corpse. Shaperaii didn't have the heart see him lying on the floor, wrapped in a white sheet soaked in blood. She had lost it.
"Get up! Wake up! Wake up! The Soviets have left, we won Almar! Wake up! Look! Now we can have our family. They've gone!"
She cried hysterically. She shook his body. She slapped him, but no matter what she did, he never woke up.
It rained heavily. She spent the next few nights in the graveyard crying. The rain added oil to the fire growing inside of her. She believed the rain was Almar's tears. She looked up at the night sky. She shouted,
"Stop crying! For God’s sake, stop it!"
The Present:
"Lewanaii! Lewanaii!" the kids followed her as she headed towards the edge of the mountain.
"Hey where are you going? Do you want to die? You crazy woman!" one of the soldiers yelled. But Shaperaii ignored him.
She looked down from where she was standing; she saw the valley and the people below who looked like little ants. She thought of Almar. Their wedding. The songs he sang for her in high school,
I wish I could hold you in my arms, while you hold me in yours, and the night would never end, we could have quenched the unquenchable thirst of our desires.
She heard the Azzan, the call to prayer. Looking up, at the clear blue sky, she said,
"You took my family and you took my love, but you won't take me."
She closed her eyes and pictured Almar, her only love. She smiled, took a deep breath and jumped.
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