It was one of the coldest November mornings in Helmand. The stars of the night sky started to disappear in almost no time as the orange light radiated from the horizon. On this chilly, cold winter morning, the town of Grishk seemed to be tucked inside a thin blanket of snow. This time snowing started a little early. Even the winding river, which would normally be free of snow, now had a thin layer of fleeting ice. Surely Helmand was all set to have one of the harshest winters this time.
The rays of the sun struck the snow making it shine like diamonds. Few of the streaks seeped through the cedar grove, piercing the curtains of the shabby wooden window, waking up Naghma from her slumber. She reluctantly opened her eyes to check the grandfather clock on the wall in front of the bed only to find it was yet not time to get ready for school, she still had half an hour before she had to start getting ready. She lazily turned to her left to throw her tiny arm gently on her father’s chest and hugged him. This short span of time she got before starting her day was her ‘me’ time. She would spend this time thinking about far-off lands, of the magical horses that could fly, of the porcelain goat that could speak like humans. Her mind would also be clouded with worldly thoughts like how she would spend her day at school or what games she could play with her friends during the recess. She thought about the snowfall that she waited for all year long. It suddenly occurred to her how the snow that she adored could cause her school to close. Last year, her school was closed for weeks because of the snow. Her hometown lacked advanced infrastructure, which was why heavy snowfall affected the everyday activities of people. Naghma’s school was still functioning since the snowfall was minimum till now. Suddenly, the flow of her thoughts was interrupted by the sound of the clock. She shot up, trying to wake up her father. “Baba, wake up! Please get me ready for school or else we will be late for school.“ She hated missing even a single day at school.
Jamil gradually opened his eyes, slowly sitting up on the bed. He could barely open his eyes. He vigorously rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. “Naghma, go back to sleep. You have been growing slimmer recently, you should take a day’s rest” said Jamil sleepily, trying to convince his daughter to stay back home that day.
“Don’t worry Baba, I am absolutely fine. Shabana must’ve come to school today and I’m sure she will be waiting for me.” This was one name Jamil was quite familiar with and often heard in conversations with his daughter. Jamil knew for sure how worried she was since Shabana had been absent from school for the past two days.
“But it’s snowing heavily dear, we cannot go to school today”
“No Baba, you know, today our English teacher is going to tell us a story of Rostam and Sohrab“, argued Naghma. Out of all the other lessons in school, Naghma used to wholeheartedly enjoy the English class. Every English class, their teacher would tell them stories about distant lands she longed to visit. Towards the end of her day in school, her mind would drift away from classes, thinking about what she would tell her father about her day when she got back home. Her favourite time of the day was when after reaching home, she would sit down to have her lunch while telling her father the story she was told that day in the English class.
Jamil started getting restless. He knew how much Naghma enjoyed attending school. The walk to her school with Jamil is what she enjoyed the most. She had to cross the river to reach her school. Every day before getting on to the bridge, she would collect a few pebbles and stuff them into her uniform’s pocket. While she walked down the bridge, she would toss the pebbles into the river, each time trying to throw it farther than the last. She would jump around, clapping her hands, every time she succeeded in doing so. Seeing his daughter happy would never fail to warm the cockles of Jamil’s heart. Jamil now felt helpless. His jaw stiffened. He snapped at Naghma, “I do not want to hear another word!”
Naghma’s eyes swelled up with tears as if all the waters of Helmand would soon be flowing down her cheeks.
Jamil, at a loss for words, looked blankly at his daughter for some time. The sight of Naghma’s weeping face filled his heart with remorse. Only he knew how much he wanted to take back his words. In the whole world, he only had his daughter whom he could call his own just like Naghma had no one else but him. Fathers around the world protect their daughters from all evil, wish the best for them, make arrangements so that they live a happy life. Otherwise, what are fathers for after all? But, today Jamil felt devoid of all strength. The Taliban Fatwa of disallowing girls to go to school was so overbearing. It had occurred to Jamil several times to leave Helmand. But, where would they go? They did not have the means. And, wherever they went, the Taliban would soon follow.
He pulled Naghma closer to him, hiding her face in his bosom. He somehow managed to prevent letting out his bottled up feelings. His gaze shifted to the street outside the window. The first few Taliban soldiers with their guns were starting to appear at the crossing. Jamil let out a deep breath. The world around him was crumbling at breakneck speed. Would he ever see Naghma going to school again? Would he live to see his dream, of seeing Naghma as a doctor, fulfilled? Several thoughts occupied his mind. He lowered his sight that now fell on the pot on the window sill. A single Violet flower had bloomed. He had not noticed this till that very moment. For sure a strange event amidst the chill of winter. But then, life is full of surprises and so many of them are pleasant ones. Jamil’s heart filled with hope as he clasped his daughter tightly.
DoubleSpeak 