The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

by Nadia Hashimi

There will always be idiots in the street saying all kinds of things and giving all kinds of looks. You can believe that. If you hold these girls back for that, you’re no better than the Taliban who closed their schools.”

The borders between Afghanistan and India were drawn and redrawn from time to time, as if only penciled in. People belonged to one country and then the other, nationalities changing as often as the direction of the wind.

People who are beset by tragedy once and twice are sure to grieve again. Fate finds it easier to retrace its treads.

Madar-jan was barely eighteen when they were wed. I imagine she must have been as terrified on her wedding night as I was on mine. Sometimes I wonder why she did not warn me, but I suppose those are not things women should speak of.

What would happen if she were to try to claim that land? The thought almost made her laugh. Imagine that. A young woman trying to claim her father’s land, snatching it from her uncles’ greedy claws. She tried to imagine taking the deed to the local judge. What would he say? Most likely he would kick her out. Call her insane. Maybe even send her back to her family. But what if he didn’t? What if he listened to her? Agreed with her? Maybe he would think it was her right to have her father’s land.

There should have been a word for what she felt, the way her stomach jumped with anticipation to be somewhere she missed so much, to be around people who missed her as much as she missed them. It was a feeling that started sweet and finished bitter, when she realized that she stood in the ashes of those perfect times, as short as they’d been.

“The human spirit, you know what they say about the human spirit? It is harder than a rock and more delicate than a flower petal.”

She floated in and out of genders easily now, aware of her flattened bosom and hidden curves only in Amanullah’s presence.