The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

  “Rahima, you’re always making trouble. I’m all right here. It’s a lot of work but it’s okay. Madar-jan said we should do what’s asked of us and I am. You’re going to get yourself into big trouble if you try anything.”

  I felt my throat tighten to hear her talk this way. She wasn’t herself but I realized there was no running away for us, especially her. Parwin wouldn’t make it more than a few feet from the compound with her limp.

  Voices in the hallway grew louder.

  “Where is she? Who let her in here?”

  “She came alone? Does Bibi Gulalai know about this?”

  I heard the footsteps and knew my time was up, quicker than I thought. I didn’t bother turning around to see who had come after me. I kissed my sister’s face and squeezed her hands as the door flung open.

  “I’m sorry, Parwin. I’m sorry about all of this,” I said. “I’m not far from you, Parwin, remember that, okay? I’m not far from you!”

  I kept my eyes on her as I was yanked to my feet. Parwin looked oddly peaceful amidst the shouting.

  “Birds fly away, one by one . . . ,” she said meekly, watching as I was pulled away from her once again.

  CHAPTER 27

  RAHIMA

  BIBI GULALAI SEETHED WITH ANGER.

  Someone had seen me leaving the compound. Word got back to Badriya, who, probably happily, reported the news to Bibi Gulalai. It didn’t matter much. Just made me hate them more. Badriya was a more spiteful person than I’d first thought. I prayed I’d one day find a way to get even with her. No wonder Hashmat was such a jerk.

  But I’d invited this round of punishment. I’d asked for it. With every blow, every curse, I held out hope that my mother-in-law would blurt out that she’d had enough, that she was sending me back to my mother. I covered my head with my arms and waited to hear what she’d said the last time. When she didn’t say it, I spoke up.

  “If I’m so terrible then why don’t you send me back?”

  She paused. At that moment, I realized I hadn’t done myself any favors. She knew that was exactly what I wanted and refused to give it to me, even if it would shame my family and me before our entire community. No, at that moment she decided she would straighten out this pesky bride herself. My plan had backfired but at least I’d seen Parwin. Or what was left of her. My sister, so different and delicate in her disposition, had been changed by her new life. I knew it was partly my doing. This had all come about because of me, the bacha posh, and because of the argument I had with my mother. The rest of the blame sat on my father’s addicted shoulders.

  I thought of Shahla. I wondered if she still blamed me too. She had forgiven me on the day of our nikkahs, but I wondered if things were different now. Maybe things were better for her than Parwin or me. Shahla had a way of pleasing people, making people smile. I found it hard to believe anyone could treat her badly.

  Now the relationship between Bibi Gulalai and me was forever soured. She focused her energies on making life miserable for me. My husband took from me what he wanted, did to me what he wanted and left the rest of my existence in his mother’s hands. He was too busy to care about the details, now that he had even more lucrative business with some foreigners. His power and influence in our area were growing, and with it, so was his aggression and domination at home. We four wives shared a fear of his ready fist.

  There was something else that worried me these days. For two weeks, I had been waking up in the mornings, my stomach reeling with nausea. The feeling frightened me and I finally confided in Jameela, who looked at me and sighed.

  “Let me see your face,” she said, cupping my cheeks in her hands. She turned my head from side to side, looking at my skin and my eyes. I let out a yelp when she felt my full breasts. “Yes, it looks to be true. You’re going to become a mother, Rahima-jan.”

  Her gentle words stunned me. For some reason, this possibility had not occurred to me.

  “What? How can you tell?”

  “Rahima-jan, how long has it been since your monthly illness?”

  Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember when I had last bled. It happened so irregularly that I never could keep track. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Well, it seems that you’re pregnant now. The sickness will pass, you’ll see, but other things will change for you.”

  I felt light-headed. Jameela took me by the arm and sat me down on a stool in the courtyard.

  “It’s all right, dokhtar-jan,” she said. “Every woman goes through the same thing. All of us. This will help you, you’ll see. Your husband and mother-in-law will be pleased. Bearing children is a wife’s duty.”

  One that Parwin had not fulfilled. Maybe that was why they had made her life so miserable. I wondered if Bibi Gulalai would treat me any better knowing this.

  “I don’t want anyone to know!” I whispered. I didn’t want anyone to look at me differently. I felt ashamed.

  “Do not say anything to anyone. It’s not proper, anyway. We don’t speak of these things. Keep quiet, do your work and let Allah handle the rest. In a few months you will see your child, if Allah wills it. May God keep you in good health,” she whispered at the end.

  I had no idea what was ahead of me. Jameela looked worried, even as she tried to comfort me. In her wisdom, she kept from me the troubling things she’d seen before she was married. Her uncle had married two girls around my age. When the first delivered her child, she bled for three days until her veins went dry and she could bleed no more. Her baby, with no one to nurse him, followed her ten days later. His second bride survived childbirth but the baby had ripped through her immature body, leaving a hole in its wake. Her husband, repulsed by the constant trickle of urine down her leg, said she was “unclean” and sent her back to her family to hide from the world in shame. Young mothers did not fare well but Jameela did not want to frighten me.

  I took Jameela’s advice but before long Shahnaz recognized the way my nose turned at the smell of food.

  “You’re pregnant!” she laughed haughtily. “Now you’ll see how tough life can really be!”

  Some days I hated her more than Bibi Gulalai. She shared the news with Badriya, knowing it would make her even more spiteful toward me. If I brought a son into Abdul Khaliq’s compound, her husband and mother-in-law might not treat me as the lowly servant in the house. I doubted much would change. Bibi Gulalai looked at me as one would look at a flea-infested dog yapping at one’s feet.

  But surprises were always around the corner and a month later, I was permitted visitors. I wasn’t sure if it was because my mother-in-law had learned I was with child. I was shocked to see Khala Shaima standing in our courtyard, looking around with a suspicious eye. Behind her stood Parwin, clutching her chador at her chin and keeping her eyes downcast, a model of modesty. I dropped the heap of laundry I was carrying and ran over to them. It felt so good to see their faces, though I prayed they wouldn’t be able to see the change in mine. I didn’t want to share the news with them.

  I held Parwin’s hand tightly. Khala Shaima balked when I tried to kiss her hand. She grabbed my shoulders and looked me over, assessing the changes of the past few months.

  Khala Shaima shook her head and sighed when she saw my full face and rounded belly. My baby was three months away. She didn’t look surprised in the least.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  I nodded. We didn’t speak any more on the matter. I was thankful for that.

  Satisfied that I was at least whole and fed, she pulled me aside so we three could talk with some privacy. I had so many questions for her. She was my link to my past life.

  Our first meeting was bittersweet. Or sweetbitter, which better represented the order of things. I was thrilled to have them here but I knew how painful it would be when they left. Parwin and I couldn’t get close enough to Khala Shaima.

  “How’s Madar-jan? Why didn’t she come with you?”

  “Your mother is fine. You know how she is. She manages things inside
the house but she’s been kept under your father’s thumb for so long that sometimes she forgets to stand on her own two feet.”

  “What about Rohila and Sitara?” Parwin asked. “Do they ask about us?”

  “Of course they ask about you! They are your sisters. That hasn’t changed just because you’re living somewhere else now! Don’t listen to the garbage that some people say about girls belonging to other people. Bah! Girls belong to their families and always do. You have a mother and sisters and nothing changes that—I don’t care who you’ve married.”

  We nodded but I looked around quickly to make sure no one was within earshot. I knew enough about Khala Shaima to know that her fiery comments invited trouble.

  “But why didn’t Madar-jan come then? Is she all right? Doesn’t she miss us?”

  “Of course she misses you! She’s . . . well, you might as well know. She’s been very upset since you girls left. She’s been so upset that she started taking some of your father’s medicine.”

  “She what?”

  “That’s how things go sometimes. Listen, girls, when things are rough, people look for an escape. A way out. Sometimes it’s hard to find the right way. Your father’s escape has been that damned medicine and now your mother too. It was just a matter of time. It’s in front of her face every day.”

  I was angry. Madar-jan was going to be just like our father. I pictured her glassy eyed and snoring on the couch, Rohila looking after the baby.

  “What about all the money? What are they doing with it?” I asked bitterly.

  “They divided it up. Of course, your father took most of it but he gave some to his brothers and your grandfather. They feasted on greasy meals, showed off around the village thinking it’s going to change the way people look at them. God knows what else he’s spending it on. I know your mother hasn’t had a finger on any of it.”

  “What about Shahla? Have you heard anything about her?”

  “No, I asked your father about her since he’s more in touch with that family than anyone else but he just says she’s doing all right. He hasn’t seen her. So far away, that poor thing. At least you girls have each other.”

  “But, Khala Shaima, I never get to see Parwin! She’s so close but it’s like she’s on the other side of the world.”

  “Hmph. Still? Well, I’ll just have to stop by more often so we can all see each other then. How are they treating you girls otherwise? Parwin?”

  “I’m all right, Khala-jan. They’re treating me just fine,” she said so sweetly that no one would have believed it.

  Khala Shaima’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother-in-law? Does she beat you? Do you get enough to eat?”

  “She’s kind to me, Khala Shaima. She shows me how to do things and I eat plenty. Most of the time I’m not hungry anyway.”

  Khala Shaima turned to me, unsure what to make of Parwin’s answers.

  “I’m all right, Khala-jan. My mother-in-law, Bibi Gulalai, she’s hit me a few times but I’ve figured out how to keep her happy. And she can’t hit very hard anyway, that old witch.” I lowered my voice instinctively. Bibi Gulalai always seemed to pop up when I least wanted her to.

  “Witch is right,” Khala Shaima hissed. “Damn these people, taking such young girls.”

  “Khala Shaima, can you promise to come often? I miss seeing you so much!” I blurted. Parwin nodded her head in agreement.

  “Of course. I’ll come as often as I can with this damned back of mine. Somebody’s got to keep an eye on you girls. Abdul Khaliq may be the biggest man in this village but you girls have a family too. I want to make sure these people know that.”

  Her words, her presence, were such a relief, although it did nothing to change our daily life.

  “And maybe you could tell us more about Bibi Shekiba?” I asked.

  “Ah! Now, there’s something we should pick up again. No one likes an unfinished story . . .”

  Periodically, she would pick up Parwin and bring her to Abdul Khaliq’s compound, where the three of us could sit and talk. She was persistent and managed to get her way. I thanked God for that. Those were the rare occasions when I was able to see my sister. Each time broke my heart and almost made me wish I hadn’t seen her at all. The weak smile she gave me and Khala Shaima looked ridiculous on her fragile frame, her sallow skin. I hated her husband’s other wives for what they were doing to her.

  Parwin never complained to us. She never told us just how things were.

  In some ways, I think she was the bravest of all. She, my meek and timid sister, was the one who acted in the end. She was the one who showed those around her that she’d had enough of their abuse. As Khala Shaima said, everyone needed a way to escape.

  CHAPTER 28

  SHEKIB

  OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, and with Ghafoor’s help, Shekib became familiar with her new home. Arg was a majestic building and Ghafoor had explored every niche. The palace had been built by Amir Abdul Rahman, while Shekiba was just a toddler. A trench of water surrounded the heavy walls and a tower stood watch at each of the four corners of the estate. At the top of each tower, Shekib could make out a canon aimed into the distance. There were ramparts all around the fortress and soldiers posted everywhere.

  “That building over there, on the eastern side, that’s Salaam Khana. That’s where the king receives his visitors. There are a few smaller buildings behind it where he spends time with his family or his closest advisers. There is where the soldiers sleep and that building is all for weapons.”

  They walked onward; the soldiers kept their gaze averted but watched their movements with great interest. They crossed the vibrant gardens and walked to the other, western side of the palace grounds.

  “What’s that one over there?” Shekib pointed to a larger structure, tall enough that you could see it looking over the palace walls. It was a beautiful piece of architecture, stately appearing and just a short walk from Arg.

  “Ah, that one! That’s Dilkhosha Palace.”

  “It looks amazing!”

  “It is. The inside of it is so beautiful that it can make your heart melt! There are paintings, carvings and gold vases. You could never imagine anything so beautiful!”

  “You’ve been inside?”

  “Well, I haven’t exactly been inside . . . but that’s what I’ve heard.” Ghafoor’s voice was full of conviction.

  “Where does the king live?”

  “Oh, well, he travels a lot but when he’s here, he stays in that building over there with his wife.”

  “His wife? Do the women ever go in there?”

  “For God’s sake, no! What kind of crazy idea is that? The women of the harem stay in the harem. That’s their place. They can wander into their courtyard and they have their own bathhouse that they can use whenever they please but they are not to be confused with the king’s wife!”

  “The harem?” Shekib took a deep breath. If she wanted to survive this new place, there was a lot she needed to learn.

  “Yes, like haram. It means that it’s forbidden for other men to enter. Except for the king of course. That’s part of the reason why we’re guarding it instead of his soldiers. But mostly it’s because he knows men would be men and they can’t be trusted around women, not even women who belong to the king.”

  Shekib had left the harem with Ghafoor early in the morning. The women were still sleeping and the other guards were just dressing to begin their duties.

  “How many women are in the harem?” Ghafoor had only pointed out five or six women yesterday evening but their quarters were large with many rooms. Shekib thought there could be more.

  “How many? Hmm . . . by last count there are twenty-nine.”

  “Twenty-nine?!”

  “Sure. Twenty-nine. That is, if you still consider Benazir one of them right now!” she laughed. “She won’t really get his attention now that her belly has begun to swell. He won’t bother with her until after it’s done.”

  “Until what’s done?”


  “Until it is done. Until the baby is born,” she said.

  “Oh. And their children, they will live with their mothers in that house?”

  “Of course. Did you not see Halima’s children there with her?”

  “Where did he find all the women? For the harem, I mean.”

  “Same way he found me. And you. Lots of families can do without their girls. Lots of families need things. Anyway, he is the king. He takes what he wants.”

  “And what of the children? Does he have anything to do with them?”

  “Surely. You know”—Ghafoor brought her voice to a whisper—“the king himself was born to a slave mother. He knows firsthand that any child can rise to greatness, not only those who are born to the first wife.”

  A steady breeze began to blow and Shekib reminded herself that her backside was not exposed. It would take some time to get used to wearing pants, she decided. Ghafoor, on the other hand, looked entirely comfortable in her garb.

  “Does it hurt?” Ghafoor asked casually.

  Shekiba knew to what she was referring but feigned ignorance. “What?”

  “Your face. Does it hurt?”

  “No.” Shekib kept her gaze straight ahead. It was no accident that Ghafoor was walking on her right side, her good side. With the head scarf gone, she had no cover for her deformity. She wanted Ghafoor to see her face as it should have been.

  “That’s good.”

  Shekib was glad the conversation ended there.

  They returned to the harem, now bustling with chatter as the women had woken up. With so many new faces around, Shekiba’s hand rose up instinctively to bring her head scarf over her cheek but there was nothing to pull.

  Past the foyer, there were women everywhere, sitting in groups of four or five. Two or three were feeding young children; one nursed in the corner. Some were in their thirties and some looked to be around Shekib’s age. Some were slender and others were plump. Few bothered to look up. Ghafoor put a hand on her elbow and led her into a large room with stone floors. In the center was a large pool. Three women sat with their bosoms half submerged in the water. Their voices echoed against the walls.