Nadia Hashimi - The Pearl that Broke Its Shell

“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.

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.