Shahana

by Rosanne Hawke

  One boy, Hanif, wakes up crying that first night. He must be only six years old. She cuddles him as if he is Tanveer. ‘I wish my ummie was here,’ he says between gulps.

  Shahana doesn’t like to ask about her in case she is dead, so she just rocks him. ‘Is your father at home?’ she asks instead.

  The boy nods into her shawl. ‘Abu was injured in the fighting. He lost his job and doesn’t have the money to look after me.’

  Shahana can imagine how it happened. Maybe the man secured a loan from Mr Nadir and then couldn’t repay it. No doubt he was forced to give up his son, just as she has given up her freedom.

  The boy speaks again. ‘When Abu finds a job again he will take me home.’

  Shahana doesn’t say anything. Who has ever earned enough money to buy a child out of bonded labour? Hanif will have to wait until he has worked enough to pay for it himself. That could take twenty years.

  Shahana counts the hours and the days. She has an embroidery square in her pocket, a needle and some thread, but she soon finishes it. She sweeps the room, but mostly she sits on top of the mattresses, wondering what Tanveer and Zahid are doing. She feels a pang when she thinks of Ayesha. She will be wondering where she is.

  On the third afternoon Mr Nadir brings in clothes for her. ‘Wash and put these on tonight.’ There is a long embroidered skirt with a kurta, a long shirt to match. They are red and gold – a bride’s clothes. They sparkle even in the low light of the room. ‘I am sorry there is no wedding week for you.’ He doesn’t look sorry at all. Shahana knows he is only thinking of the money he will get. ‘See what you can do with this.’ He gives her soap, shampoo and a hairbrush, make-up, and clips for her hair – all things from his shop. ‘I suppose you’ve never used make-up before.’ He says this while hanging a mirror on the wall.

  It is true Shahana has never worn make-up, but her mother did. If she was still alive, she’d be showing Shahana how to do all those things women do and this marriage wouldn’t be happening at all. Only the thought of Tanveer being safe brings her some peace of mind. As Mr Nadir leaves her to wash and dress she tries to close her mind against thoughts of what might have been. This is the path she has been forced to take and she will have to learn to live with it.

  When Shahana is finished and has tucked the piece of embroidery into her waistband as a keepsake, she looks into the mirror. She sees a girl’s face framed by a gold dupatta, cheaper than the one she embroidered, with red lips and white skin with kohl surrounding her eyes. She imagined her face as a piece of embroidery and has applied the make-up as carefully as she sews. The girl in the mirror looks sad, but that is the way a bride should look, as she has to leave her home. Shahana hopes the man who bids the highest is kind, but the richest men are rarely the kindest.

  This is not what her parents planned for her. She would have had a wedding with families involved, a mehndi night when female relatives and friends would have come to bath her, apply henna patterns to her hands and feet and sing wedding songs; the groom arriving next day on a white horse with the wedding band of horns and drums. In her wildest dreams the groom would be Zahid, but she knows that dreams don’t come true. Only nightmares do.

  The boys come in tired and hungry. ‘You look like a bride,’ Hanif says. ‘Are you going away?’

  He cries and Shahana hugs him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘Brides always go away.’

  The food comes and the boys eat, even Hanif, but Shahana can’t swallow a bite.

  Mr Nadir finally returns. ‘Accha, you have done a good job as usual. Maybe making yourself beautiful will be useful in the future.’ He isn’t sneering this time, and she glances up in surprise. ‘If times were different—’ But he doesn’t say what would happen if times were different, and Shahana is sure she doesn’t want to know. She follows him into the shop. The electric lights are off; gas lamps shine a warm glow over the room.

  In the centre of the room is a carpet and a few metres from the carpet are three chairs. Three men are sitting in the chairs. They look like the men with shiny haircuts, dressed in long achkan coats, that Shahana has seen on TV. One man is smoking.

  ‘Stand in the middle of the carpet, Shahana,’ Mr Nadir says.

  ‘This is Shahana,’ Mr Nadir says to the men. ‘She is an innocent orphan who has been living in the forest.’ It is the kindest she has heard him speak, but she knows it is just to get the highest price. Mr Nadir asks her to walk slowly in front of each man. One cups her chin and turns her face sideways; another asks her to turn a full circle. At least she is not asked to smile – she couldn’t have managed that. Then she returns to the carpet. She doesn’t know how long the ceremony will take and hopes it isn’t too long – she is afraid her legs will fold up. They haven’t been the same since the avalanche.

  ‘Can she dance?’ the third man asks.

  ‘She is very talented,’ Mr Nadir says, ‘she will easily learn.’

  The second man smiles at her. Shahana thinks it is worse than Mr Nadir’s smile.

  One man says fifty thousand rupees; the next says one hundred thousand. It sounds like a fortune to Shahana. Money like that could build a proper school. There is a silence and Mr Nadir shakes his head sadly. ‘She is worth much more than this, my friends. Where would you get such a precious jewel, so untouched by the world? Just imagine—’

  Mr Nadir doesn’t get to say what the men should imagine as the door of his shop is pushed open. Not another man? Shahana thinks. Then she sees who it is. She presses her lips tightly together so no sound will slip out. It is Amaan.

  ‘What do you think you are doing?’ Mr Nadir says. His voice is tight with fury. ‘This is a private function. Chello, leave this instant.’

  Amaan strolls into the room and looks around. He has his Kalashnikov over his right shoulder, but his right arm cradles it so his hand rests on the trigger. ‘No wonder you have such precious carpets if this is what you do in your spare time.’ He takes a chair from the corner with one hand and brings it to face Shahana. ‘Is this not an illegal practice? You wouldn’t be taking advantage of this child because she’s an orphan?’

  ‘Get out!’ Mr Nadir’s face is turning purple.

  ‘Not until I take this child with me.’ He emphasises the word ‘child’ and one of the men swiftly stands behind his chair, a wary eye on Amaan’s Kalashnikov.

  ‘You wouldn’t have the money,’ Mr Nadir says, rage making his voice tight. ‘I know what you are – you are just a jihadi, causing trouble. You lot think you can put your nose into our affairs. Well, you’re not one of us. You have no right to ruin my business.’

  Amaan stands and the Kalashnikov falls easily into his hands. His voice rises over Mr Nadir’s. ‘Children have the right to be safe and everyone has a duty to protect them. And I think the police outside will agree with me.’

  At that the suited men all slip out the door.

  ‘If I hear you have interfered with this child again I shall kill you.’ Amaan says this so simply that even Mr Nadir must know he tells the truth.

  Yet Mr Nadir splutters. ‘You won’t get away with this – I can have you killed. You’ve crossed the wrong man.’

  ‘You can tell that to the police.’ He gestures to Shahana to come to him.

  She glances at Mr Nadir. Can he stop her? But he is standing as if his legs are made of ice. She walks to Amaan as quickly as she can without tripping over the long skirt. The door bursts open and two policemen stride in. One looks at Amaan as if he’d like to arrest him, but Amaan says, ‘This is my sister.’ He points to Mr Nadir. ‘There is your criminal who tried to sell her.’

  ‘Mr Nadir Khan?’ asks the other police officer as Shahana slips out the door after Amaan. She doesn’t hear any more.

  Amaan takes his huge shawl from his shoulder and wraps it around her, then picks up a backpack and guides her to the road.

  ‘I thought I told you not to go near him,’ he says.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be able to do anything.’


  He makes a sound like a sigh. ‘It was a brave thing you did, but foolish. You could have been in a big city in a week.’

  ‘But I had to get Tanveer out. Mr Nadir was going to move him to a factory. I would never have found him.’

  ‘I should have blown up his blasted shop. He deserves it.’

  ‘I’m glad you didn’t. There are three more boys living there, even younger than Tanveer.’

  ‘I am joking only. I am finished with that life.’

  There is a silence while Shahana wonders about the police. She doesn’t remember when she last saw them in the village. ‘Where do the police come from?’

  ‘I don’t know. I saw their jeep heading for the bazaar before I entered the shop. I was bluffing about them being outside.’

  ‘Mr Nadir will try to bribe them.’

  They walk past Mr Pervaiz’s house and Shahana wonders what Zahid is doing.

  ‘How did you know I was there?’ she asks.

  ‘I imagine you will hear all about it soon. You did look beautiful standing there – you would have fetched a high price.’ He stops to face her, even though Shahana can’t see him very well. ‘I am proud to call you sister.’

  When they reach Aunty Rabia’s house Amaan stands with his foot on the bottom step, looking up at her. ‘You must still be careful. I think the man will not bother you now that the police are involved, but I have caused him too much embarrassment and shame. I will return now across the mountains to the Khagan Valley to look after my own sister.’

  ‘Is that your home?’

  ‘Close to there. You only have to look at the mountains and know that I am on the other side.’ He glances away. ‘All we are doing is destroying lives and a culture. This war cannot be won but no one will understand why I have given up the struggle.’

  ‘I do,’ she whispers.

  ‘And now I owe an obligation to every orphan.’ He looks at her again. ‘But I will never forget you. You are so surprising, like the snow, so pure and quiet, yet you burn with fire.’

  She wants to say she won’t forget him either. Instead, she takes the embroidery square out of her waistband and hands it to him. This time it is a true gift, and he tucks it in the top pocket of his qameez. He puts his hand over his heart and inclines his head, then backs a few steps before he turns away.

  It is not until she can’t see his shadow anymore that she opens the door.

  Chapter 28

  Ayesha is right by the door when Shahana pushes it open. ‘Shahana, it is you. I thought I heard a noise outside.’ She looks out the door. ‘What happened? Tanveer said you were coming, but that was days ago.’

  ‘Mr Nadir kept me, but I escaped.’ She doesn’t mention Amaan; he will be too hard to explain.

  Ayesha takes her hand and leads her inside. ‘These clothes – they are fit for a wedding. Was he going to marry you off after all?’

  And suddenly, at the sound of Ayesha’s voice, the relief of being in her house is too much. Shahana can’t stop her tears. ‘There were three men – they were bidding for me.’

  Ayesha is almost speechless. ‘How – how did you escape?’

  Shahana stops and gulps. She can’t name Amaan. Then she remembers the police.

  ‘The police arrived.’

  ‘Police?’ Ayesha says the word as if it is foreign.

  Shahana nods. ‘They must have come from Athmuqam.’

  Ayesha is quiet a moment, as if wondering how such a thing could happen. Shahana too is confused. The police rarely visit their little village.

  Ayesha puts her arms around her. ‘I’m so glad you are safe.’

  Shahana lets the sobs takes over. What horror it was. She hadn’t realised what she was walking into. After a while her crying eases. Ayesha hands her a tissue.

  ‘Come,’ Ayesha says gently. ‘We must get you out of those clothes.’ ‘Where is Tanveer?’ Shahana asks.

  Ayesha gestures towards a new bed in the room. ‘Asleep. It’s quite late.’

  Tanveer is curled up like a baby under the quilt. Shahana bends to kiss him on the forehead. ‘Where did you get this bed?’ she asks.

  ‘Mr Pervaiz gave us one of his daughter’s beds – they rarely visit here now. Mine is in the other room.’

  Ayesha takes her hand again. ‘When you’ve changed, there’s something I want to show you. It will dry all your tears.’ She can’t keep the excitement from her eyes and Shahana wonders what can’t wait until morning.

  Soon, after dressing in one of Ayesha’s outfits and washing off the make-up with special remover, Shahana sits in front of the computer.

  ‘I know it’s late but Ummie’s asleep and you have to see this.’ Ayesha presses some keys on the computer and the website where their stories are flickers onto the screen.

  ‘There are more stories?’ Shahana asks.

  ‘Better than that,’ Ayesha says, scrolling down with the mouse. ‘Look, there’s a place to put comments, and see? There are hundreds of them, all saying how sad they are, how bad our situation is. Other people have told about their own situation, too. And one of them has written an email and it has already travelled around the world to countries like Britain, Australia, Canada and even America. People are signing a petition for the government to help us.’

  Shahana turns a stricken face to Ayesha. ‘We will get into trouble. We will be punished.’

  ‘No, we won’t.’

  ‘But everyone will know what is happening, what it is like here. The government will be embarrassed. Mr Nadir—’

  ‘The government official is coming up to Athmuqam sooner than the end of winter. Look.’ She shows Shahana a news item on the website. ‘He is going to give us money to start a school here. Ummie will teach again.’

  ‘What if they send Tanveer and me to an orphanage? That is why I have never told anyone how hard it is to live and to look after him.’

  ‘Shahana, people need to know what happens to kids like us. When others know, it is harder for evil people to get away with the things they do.’

  ‘Did someone from the website contact the police?’ Shahana asks.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Ayesha murmurs. ‘But this is wonderful support. And Ummie has something to tell you tomorrow, too.’

  Suddenly there is an explosion. Shahana grabs the bed as she feels the floor shudder. There’s a thump, then the shelling and gunfire starts. It sounds just like the day Irfan and her mother died. ‘RPGs.’ She clutches Ayesha.

  ‘It doesn’t sound close,’ Ayesha says, but Shahana can tell she is worried. One could get used to gunfire, but not RPGs. ‘I think it is high up the mountain.’

  The door opens and Shahana jumps. ‘Tanveer.’

  He runs to her. ‘Shahji, I heard rockets.’ He climbs onto her lap. ‘You took so long to come home, I thought Mr Nadir had you working on the loom instead.’

  ‘It was a little like that but I got away.’ She looks up at another whomp, louder and closer. It sounds as if the whole mountain is falling down.

  They wait, but the fighting seems to be staying on the mountain. Shahana hugs Tanveer to her, then carries him to the new bed and slips in beside him.

  Shahana wakes tired in the morning, having dreamed she was holding an AK-47 Kalashnikov, about to shoot a man to save Tanveer. But the gun was too heavy and she couldn’t aim it straight. Would she shoot Tanveer by accident? Half the night she couldn’t tell if the sound of gunfire was in her dreams or really happening.

  ‘Is the village safe?’ she asks quietly as Ayesha comes into the room to look out of the window. Aunty Rabia and Tanveer are still sleeping.

  ‘There’s fog, but nothing seems different.’

  Later, as they eat breakfast on cushions in the main room, Tanveer chatters. Shahana is realising that this is his way of shutting out things he is frightened of. ‘Tanveer,’ she says, ‘the fighting didn’t reach the village. We are safe.’

  He nods and bites into his roti.

  ‘I am so glad you are home with us,’ Aunty
Rabia says.

  Shahana smiles at her as she lifts her teacup. Aunty Rabia is like her old self.

  ‘Ayesha and I have something to tell you both.’

  They are smiling so Shahana can tell it is good news. She wonders if it is about Ayesha’s father.

  ‘We want you to always live with us and be Ayesha’s sister and brother.’ Aunty Rabia watches them expectantly. Shahana tries to put the cup on the tray but it clatters and spills. She wants to show how happy she is but tears come instead. Tanveer jumps up and hugs Aunty Rabia.

  ‘Thank you, Aunty-ji,’ Shahana says through her tears. ‘We shall always try to bring you honour and happiness.’

  Ayesha hugs them both. ‘I love you like a sister already.’

  Shahana decides to take Tanveer to see Mr Pervaiz. She is hoping to see Zahid too, and she has warned Tanveer that Zahid will need to go home. She expects he will act as he did when Nana-ji was ill, insisting that Zahid won’t leave, but he keeps silent, as if he doesn’t hear her.

  Ayesha stops them at the door. ‘I should come too. That way if Mr Nadir should try to grab you, he will think twice, knowing there will be a witness.’

  ‘We will not go through the bazaar – we’ll take a shortcut. Then you won’t have to worry.’

  Shahana and Tanveer creep behind the houses, climb across stone fences and walk in thick snow until they reach the back of Mr Pervaiz’s house. Their shoes and legs are wet, but they are safe.

  Mr Pervaiz’s eyes widen when he sees Shahana. ‘Zahid,’ he calls. ‘Come, Shahana is free.’ He ushers them inside and fills his samovar to make chai. Zahid is there, watching her walk in. She feels the warmth, just like in Aunty Rabia’s house. Mr Pervaiz has a gas bottle with a heater warming the room.

  ‘Did you hear the fighting last night on the mountain?’ Shahana asks.

  ‘Ji.’ Both Zahid and Mr Pervaiz nod, but Zahid frowns as well.

  ‘What is it?’ she asks.

  ‘It was the militants’ camp,’ Zahid says, checking her face with a careful look.