“This is a lonely place. Like my wife, I welcome company any time of night.”
“A quick errand—an orphan needs a place to stay for a short while and can help Aza and Mohan.”
The man stepped closer. Blank eyes aimed at Parsaa’s neck. “I assume you saw my wife.”
“Briefly.” Parsaa did not want to talk about Zahira.
“Yes, she has time for all but her husband.” The bitter man’s head bobbed with every sarcastic word. He resented his wife’s control over the compound. Arhaan had supplies for his birds, books, computers, his own workshop—but Zahira handled the funds that ran the place. The compound could never truly belong to Arhaan. His wife and the servants kept too many secrets.
Closing his eyes, Parsaa tried to think of something to say, anything, to move the conversation away from another man’s wife—but the mind was tricky that way. In trying to avoid the one topic, all he could do was think about Zahira. Men should not talk loosely about their wives around other men. Arhaan’s distrust was constant, a character flaw that invited others to keep secrets.
Encounters with Arhaan added to Parsaa’s determination to prohibit his sons from living at the compound. Arhaan regarded Mohan and Parsaa as servants, replaceable, and he would be just as haughty with the next set. Arhaan assumed that he owned great tracts of land, and Blacker had urged allowing that misunderstanding to continue as long as possible. Such secrets protected Zahira, but not Parsaa or his sons.
Parsaa thought about telling the man that it wasn’t safe to wander about at night, even at the compound, but he stopped himself. Arhaan regarded advice as threats or insults. Every topic was off-limits with the man.
At last Arhaan broke the silence. “Is the orphan a girl or a boy?” Arhaan queried.
“A girl,” Parsaa replied.
“Dokh-tar, dokh-tar,” the bird screamed, lifting its wings.
Arhaan chuckled as he gently stroked the myna’s head. “So Zahira asked for help?”
“The possibility was raised, and she agreed.” He once knew more about Zahira’s life than Arhaan did, but that was no longer the case.
“Zahira will tire of her before long.” Arhaan leaned too close toward Parsaa. “No one can measure up to her standards. You know it. Perhaps I’ll find use for the girl with the birds.”
The myna lifted its head, letting loose with a string of unintelligible phrases.
“And Parsaa, the next time you visit, be sure to see me first.” The tone was imperious, dismissive. “I do not want another man sneaking about my home.”
Tapping his cane, the blind man hobbled away. Parsaa was weary and not for the first time worried about Zahira. The match approved by Blacker had not led to love or acceptance, and Parsaa could not protect a woman from a husband. He glanced back toward the compound where one lonely light glowed from Zahira’s bedroom. The other buildings and canyon walls were cloaked in darkness. Parsaa could not detect the outlines and felt almost as blind as Arhaan.
Parsaa headed for the narrow trail. So many times he had raced down the hillside, eager to reach the compound, but now he only looked forward to the steep climb and journey home. He had so many jumbled memories of a bustling place, huge meals and games among loyal friends, the hearty bursts of laughter. Zahira never talked about the boisterous gatherings and her father’s many friends. She rarely talked about her father at all.
The attention from Blacker once made Parsaa feel superior, a feeling that had vanished long ago, replaced by regret for not spending more hours with his parents and brother. Parsaa wondered if too many secrets were attached to the place, if the secrets really protected the compound.
Moving with care, he stepped carefully along the narrow ledge etched into the canyon wall, and as he walked, he could still remember his shock at hearing that Zahira and Arhaan would become man and wife.
Blacker made the announcement after Parsaa had returned home from a school break to a cold and empty home, shortly after the death of his parents. His father had been the victim of a shooting accident—a young hunter chasing down a duck for his family’s dinner—and his mother had died from grief soon afterward. Fortunately, his sisters, all older, had already left for marriages. With his parents dead, Parsaa’s younger brother had decided he didn’t need school. Long envious of his older brother’s ties with Blacker, the brother traveled to join a distant militia and never returned to claim his share of his father’s property.
His parents had already been buried, and Blacker took care of punishing the hunter. As with all his breaks from school, Parsaa immediately rushed for the compound to thank his benefactor and tussle with old friends.
His life changed that day. Zahira rushed to greet him, but Aza scolded. “He is a man now, and you are a woman.”
Normally, Zahira would have ignored Aza. This time, she walked away.
Blacker was impatient that day, his greeting truncated. He directed Parsaa to enter a match with other young men who had been practicing daily. After a few rounds, Blacker embraced Parsaa, announcing that school had not diminished the young man’s skills, and Parsaa remembered the hard punch of pride coming from inside.
Then Blacker had moved on to introduce a young man waiting at the edge of the field. The man was detached, in fine clothes that made his nervous ways more pronounced. He gripped a thin walking stick and listened intently to avoid the rowdiness. Blacker explained the newcomer was well educated, with an advanced degree in ornithology, and from that day onward, he would make his home at the compound.
“Arhaan is one of us,” Blacker pronounced. “And he will marry my only daughter before the year is through!”
The crowd went silent, as if in a stupor, before a few older men realized that Blacker was serious and let loose with a belated cheer. Blacker and Zahira were such vibrant personalities, too extraordinary for conventional marriage. So attentive to her father, Zahira had gradually taken on duties as mistress of the compound. At times, the man and daughter often seemed more like husband and young wife, though no one dared suggest as much.
Parsaa had the good sense to hide his resentment and raise a fist in the air in support. Amid the cheering, jealousy coursed like hot blood through every part of his body. He could not be certain whether he was more upset about Blacker bringing another man into the family or Zahira taking a husband. He stared at the newcomer and only then realized that the man was blind. Then Parsaa glanced at Zahira, who returned a cool stare that suggested she knew exactly how he felt.
Later that night, the contract was signed in a ceremony. From threads of gossip winding through the compound, Parsaa learned that Arhaan was a distant cousin whose parents had died and left him and another brother property in the city. He had studied at the university in Kabul and was known for his ability in training songbirds.
Just before the contract was signed, Blacker whispered something to Arhaan, and the young man’s face went pale. Then, after the ceremony, as the guests relished a huge meal, Blacker asked Parsaa to step inside his private chamber, separated by a rare interior door.
Blacker closed the door and invited the young man to sit among the fine silk pillows.
“I saw your reaction,” Blacker said. “Yes, you are like a son to me. But she is not the right woman for you, and it is wrong for a brother to marry his sister.” The man lit a pipe and passed it to Parsaa. “Not tonight, but someday you will realize this is best for the both of you.”
Parsaa inhaled and watched the smoke drift around the room, irritated that Blacker thought he could read his feelings.
“Sit back and listen, there is something much more important to discuss regarding your father’s death.” Blacker then explained that he had secretly borrowed from Parsaa’s father and repaid the man before his death. He extracted a document from a chest and handed it over to Parsaa. “Here are the forms, signed by your father.”
Parsaa unfolded the papers and studied the scratchy line that served as his father’s signature. His father could not read
or write, and Parsaa had never seen his father sign anything. “Your father agreed to payment made in property.” Blacker explained that the transaction had already been registered with the proper office in the provincial capital. “The government is unstable,” he added with a sigh. “The payment does not include this compound, only the surrounding land including Laashekoh and the fields. He cocked his head toward the door. “No one else knows. Only your father, and I will soon tell Zahira and Mohan. But not Arhaan, he doesn’t need to know.”
Parsaa was unaccustomed to smoking. The expensive tobacco made his head swim, and the details from Blacker came too quickly.
“The two of them won’t be here long. Both of them prefer the city, and my daughter wants to finish her studies.” The man had shrugged, but his voice was firm. “I want this property secured. And you have no plans to leave.”
It was not a question, yet Parsaa offered a short nod so typical of his conversations with Blacker.
“Your father said as much. It is why the property is in your name.”
“I would not have known about this debt.” Parsaa stared at the papers. “You did not have to tell me. We owe you so much. More than what you could have possibly owed my father.”
“What do you know?” Blacker snapped, suggesting the comment showed a lack of respect for Parsaa’s father. “No one needs to know the circumstances.”
Debt severed all love. Parsaa’s throat was tight, and he wished he could talk with his father. He wondered if the debt was real or if his father had signed an agreement that he did not understand.
Parsaa stubbornly asked about Arhaan. The marriage contract was brief, and Blacker’s sole heir was Zahira. Her property transferred to Arhaan by rite of marriage. Only later Parsaa understood how Blacker chafed under Afghan dictates on inheritance. He could not favor friends or distant relatives or protégés over his only child. Arhaan, blind and forced to trust others to read the documents, made assumptions about Blacker’s holdings, and Blacker let those assumptions go uncorrected.
Blacker did not trust Arhaan. “He knows there will be consequences should Zahira suffer from abuse or untimely death,” Blacker said. “I trust you and Mohan to handle those.”
Blacker spoke not with the relief of making final payment on a debt, but with intent to control the land beyond the grave. He issued his orders.
“I expect you to protect the compound in all ways. Be an advisor to Zahira. Provide security. An attack here is a threat for Laashekoh.” He tapped the papers on his desk. “The two of them think of themselves as wise, much more intelligent than you or me. My daughter is resourceful, but she is not prepared for the coming changes. And both of them are foolish enough to think that money and property give them power or control.” He shook his head and explained that new forces were determined to take over Afghanistan. The zealots wanted more than money and would not question Parsaa’s control. “Turbulent years are ahead.”
Blacker went on to explain that Parsaa could share benefits with Zahira or not as he wished. “Should she give birth to a child and decide to stay at the compound, should you feel uncomfortable with this arrangement, you may organize a similar debt to transfer the land.”
He glanced at Parsaa. “I trust you to do right by her.”
Again, he urged secrecy. “You will find it easier if others do not know the details. The passing years will secure this arrangement.”
Parsaa was too troubled to be grateful. He had long imagined his life stretching out peacefully, marked only by marriage, children, harvests, and the passing years. The villagers lived in Laashekoh only because of Blacker. Most trusted the man and did not expect a sudden change. Most counted on him giving his daughter away in a marriage to a strongman like himself.
Instead, Blacker had approved of a weak husband for his only daughter, hoping to control his world long after death. That required help from loyal men like Mohan and Parsaa. The night was a turning point for Laashekoh, yet only Parsaa knew. The village, once linked so tightly with Blacker, could protect the land in its own way.
Blacker chose the right man. “My father, did he understand?” Parsaa’s voice broke.
“You are a good son to think about your parents. I hope Zahira feels the same for me someday. And I promise, the story behind the debt does not sully your parents. Your father provided fighters over the years and other favors. Trust me, he was grateful for this transaction. He trusted that you more than anyone else could protect the land from parasites.”
The warlord suddenly seemed haggard. Blacker embraced Parsaa and waved him away. “This is our secret. Now enjoy yourself and do not hurry. There is no need for you to head back to school.”
Arhaan still assumed that he owned the property surrounding the compound since his marriage to Zahira. He certainly played the role of wealthy manager, expecting deference from Mohan, Aza, Parsaa, and Zahira. As Blacker had advised, keeping the secret was easier than not.
The man was slightly younger than Zahira, and before their marriage, she was sure that she could control the blind man. Blacker had understood that no man put up with such nonsense for long, and the most insecure were among the worst.
Over the years, Arhaan posed no challenges about the property. The couple talked about relocation but made no real plans. If they remained in Afghanistan and didn’t try to sell the land, there was no reason for Arhaan to learn the truth. The couple had no children or close family members who would try to make claims. All Arhaan cared about was ample space for his birds, books, and equipment.
Zahira had spoken with Parsaa about the land exchange not long after her father’s death. She expressed relief for the arrangement and gratitude for his complicity. Already, the marriage was strained, and there was always the possibility of her lashing out at her husband during an argument, revealing the true owner of the land. Zahira taunted her husband but held off revealing the secret, even as Arhaan tried to humiliate her, Parsaa, and the others. Instead, she smiled, enjoying a secret shared with Parsaa.
Mohan and Parsaa were cool with Arhaan, never letting on that they possessed greater understanding about the property and the intricacies of the couple’s life. After so many years, Arhaan would be furious to learn that Parsaa owned the land, knew more than he did, and patronized him like an ignorant child. The two men let Arhaan think that he wielded power over them, and that made him less dangerous.
Mohan had once confided in Parsaa that Aza, though she loved Zahira as a daughter, detested the bickering and wanted no part of it. Only loyalty to Blacker kept them at the compound to care for the ornery couple. Aza often expressed disappointment in Zahira and berated her husband. “They take us for granted. Blacker did not expect her to stay behind in this desolate place. If we left, that might motivate Zahira to leave, too. I think that is what Blacker really wanted.”
Aza, arthritic and tired, often avoided contact with Parsaa. The couple should have left long ago, and perhaps the woman blamed him.
But Mohan found it hard to leave. Yes, Blacker had rewarded his trusted lieutenant with an ample trust fund, and Aza missed their only son, who worked in the provincial capital. The young man didn’t like witnessing his parents working so hard at their age. He had reserved ample space for them in his home and urged them to move to the city. For Mohan, it was hard to walk away from so many memories or admit that he was no longer useful. The man assured Parsaa that he was firm with his wife. “I owe Blacker much and won’t abandon his daughter. We leave only after Zahira decides to leave.”
After such conversations, Aza would not speak to her husband for days.
Parsaa pitied the compound’s unhappy occupants, but he could not interfere with a husband and wife. So it wasn’t hard for Parsaa to turn his back on the dark compound. He took long strides in climbing and aimed for the stars overhead—Aaronj, Oqaab, Almesian, the elbow, the eagle, and the shining light. Memories of the compound no longer brought joy, and walking away was a release. The small group focused on old worries. New i
deas were rare. Perhaps Najwa would invigorate the compound, but he doubted it.
Parsaa would be ashamed to trap one of his sons into working for the compound. Sofi would never forgive him. With every step away from the compound, Parsaa felt younger, freer, thrilled to escape his past and return to the comfort of the present and his family.
CHAPTER 11
Zahira left the small hut and watched Parsaa walk away into the darkness. She dismissed Aza and took the infant into her own bed.
She could not sleep. Men knew so little about women and didn’t care. They also didn’t understand how a woman might react if held back from pursuing what she wanted.
Parsaa would not dispose of his orphan and other problems so easily. He and the other villagers made the mistake of thinking that Zahira depended on him. Laashekoh was linked to the compound. The village would not exist without the approval of Blacker and his daughter.
Parsaa suggested she was a good influence but would not recommend others to seek out her assistance for medical treatments. He claimed that he could not control the women who whispered together when they gathered to wash clothes, work the fields, or cook communal meals. He did not expect the villagers to invite Zahira and her husband to their gatherings.
Not that Zahira would have attended.
Women of Laashekoh thought of her as arrogant. They resented her. All Parsaa had said to other villagers was that the families could stay on and live at Laashekoh. The villagers assumed that Blacker’s heirs owned the land, but they assumed that Parsaa had some control over her. They did not want to know more.
Time and time again, Zahira imagined the nearby villagers coming to her in desperation. She especially longed for Sofi to appear in her doorway, pleading to end a pregnancy. Zahira imagined her own loftiness in considering the request, asking many questions before proceeding, then insisting on securing Parsaa’s permission. He would admire Zahira and thank her.
But Sofi never knocked at the door, and Zahira never met the woman.
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