The Pearl that Broke Its Shell (53 page)

As the days passed, Shekiba became terrified. There were too many pats on the back, heartfelt embraces of congratulations, baskets of sweets sent to their house. She worried about
nazar,
that their good fortune would be cursed by someone with a jealous eye. Her king sleeping peacefully, she fired the
espand
seeds and wafted their protective powers over him.

Nazar
was not the only danger. Shekiba remembered what she had seen Dr. Behrowen doing in the palace and boiled everything that came near the baby. She boiled his clothes, even the evil eye that she had pinned to his tiny blanket. She scrubbed her breasts raw before she let him nurse. Her fears multiplied when Aasif came home shaking his head.

“What is it?” she asked. “Has something happened?”

Aasif was cordial with her these days, engaging in conversations as his first wife listened bitterly from her room down the hall.

“It’s that damn illness again, sweeping across the villages. Even in Kabul.”

“What illness?” Shekiba asked, suddenly alarmed. Shah was only three weeks old. Instinctively, she pulled her swaddled baby closer to her.

“Cholera. Maybe you’ve never heard of it. It’s a powerful disease. God help whoever it strikes. I’ve heard that at least twenty families in Kabul are sick with it. The doctors can’t do anything about it.”

Shekiba knew better than anyone else just how powerful cholera could be. Her back stiffened.

“We mustn’t let the baby get ill,” she said, her voice quivering. Panic was setting in.

“Don’t you think I know that? Just take good care of him and keep him inside. You’re his mother so it’s up to you to keep him from getting sick!”

Shekiba’s mind flew back to her village, watching her siblings waste away in a corner of their rank home. Thinking of her mother, broken at the sight of her dead children, Shekiba boiled, washed and prayed fiercely.

Please, God, don’t let anything happen to my little boy. He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever had. Please do not take him away!

And when the cholera wave passed, there was time for Shekiba to think of new dangers. She would not let the baby near the kitchen and kept him away from anything made of glass. She surrounded him with pillows and did not take her eyes off him. It was clear she did not trust Gulnaz to watch him. What if he broke his leg and walked with a limp? What if he was hit and lost an eye? Shekiba could hear the names, the teasing, a crestfallen little boy. She wanted better for her son.

“You know, I have managed to care for Shabnam reasonably well this past year. I think I am capable of holding a baby! What is it with you? What do you think I’m going to do? Drop him from a window?”

“I’m just… I’m just nervous. Don’t be offended, please. It’s just that I don’t want anything to happen to him.” Shekiba turned away so she wouldn’t see the angry look on Gulnaz’s face.

Shah changed every dynamic in the house, even for his half sister. When Shabnam waddled toward Shekiba, Gulnaz was quick to pull her back, and if she caught Shabnam eating something Shekiba had prepared, she would hold a hand in front of the baby’s confused mouth and make her spit it out. But only when Shekiba was watching.

It hurt Shekiba to see Shabnam yanked away from her. She loved the little girl as much as she could love any child that was not her own. And Shabnam, who had grown up with two mothers, did not understand why one was now off-limits. She looked at Shah with suspicion, as if she knew he had disrupted her happy home.

Aasif made the situation worse. Gulnaz no longer joined them for dinner, always making some excuse about Shabnam needing to eat or sleep. Aasif, having just proudly celebrated his son’s fortieth day, hardly noticed that his first wife had retreated into her room for over a week. What he did say to Gulnaz only made her more resentful of Shekiba.

“Long overdue, but worth the wait. Look at my son! Look at the healthy color in his cheeks! He’s a lion, my son!”

Gulnaz, listening from her room, bit her tongue, thankful that her daughter was not yet aware of her father’s partiality.

“
Nam-e-khoda.
May evil eyes stay away,” Shekiba murmured nervously as she looked at her fingernails, another superstition she had picked up from one of her uncles’ wives, though she couldn’t remember which one.

Gulnaz nearly laughed. An evil eye could hardly find its way to Shah, with all the talismans and prayers and
espand
that Shekiba used in the house. It occurred to her then that Shekiba was probably worried about her. She thought on it for a moment and realized it made sense. That was why she wanted to keep Gulnaz away from her precious son!

And so Gulnaz retaliated. She showered Shah with compliments, purposely not invoking the name of God.

How plump his cheeks have gotten! How quickly he’s learned to roll over! He’ll be walking before you know it, Shekiba-
jan
.

How well he nurses! He’ll grow up to be bigger and stronger than his father! And look at how alert and curious he is!

Shekiba was frenzied. She knocked on wood, burned
espand
and prayed even more. She tried to downplay the compliments as quickly as they came.

Oh, it’s just today. Yesterday he barely wanted to nurse at all. I don’t think he’s gained any weight in the last couple weeks. He feels so light when I lift him.

You don’t see how skinny his legs are? He’ll probably end up short and bowlegged, at the rate he’s eating.

Animosity simmered as Shekiba slowly realized what Gulnaz was up to. Frustrated, she decided to turn the game around. They sat in the courtyard, giving the children some sunlight while Shekiba hung the laundry on a clothesline. Gulnaz was watering the flowers.

“Just look at Shabnam! She’s walking as if she’s been doing it for years! I bet she could run right across Kabul with those strong legs!”

Shekiba watched Gulnaz’s mouth open slightly and her eyes widen. She mumbled something incomprehensible in return.

“Coo coo! Coo coo!” Shabnam called out, her word for the canaries.

“Yes, my little one, coo coo is there,” Gulnaz said without turning around.

“Coo coo! Coo coo!”

The two mothers turned around and saw only two yellow birds flitting about the cage. Gulnaz walked over, her head cocked to the side.

“Where is the other? How could he have gotten…” Her voice trailed off as she neared the cage. “Oh no!”

“What is it?” Shekiba said as she walked over. Gulnaz’s eyes were wide.

“He’s dead.”

The feathered creature lay lifeless on the floor of the cage while his roommates huddled close to one another and chirped softly. Both women were silent. The omen did not go unnoticed.

We’re just like Aasif’s mother,
Shekiba thought with a sigh.
Making daggers of words.

CHAPTER 60

T
he relationship between Shekiba and Gulnaz had cooled now that Aasif had warmed toward his disfigured second wife. Shekiba prayed Gulnaz would have a second child, a boy, to even their score, but months and then years passed and Gulnaz had no other children. They learned to be civil with one another and make the house function as it had when Shekiba had first arrived—two wives embittered against each other.

Shah and Shabnam made up for the relationship between their mothers. By the time Shah turned one, he was chasing after his older half sister, who giggled and watched him with a toddler’s curiosity. Shabnam was much more beautiful than her mother, her perfect curls in a ponytail behind her head and bangs that shadowed her forehead. Her cheeks were full and rosy, her eyes almond shaped and chestnut colored. She had inherited the best of her parents’ features, and a cheerful disposition that was foreign to their home.

Shah, as Gulnaz had so facetiously predicted, grew to be strong and taller than most boys his age. He had walnut-colored hair that curled just slightly and a grin that melted hearts. The two made a perfect set of siblings, despite the rancor between their two mothers.

In February of 1919, Shabnam was five and Shah was four. The temperature was barely above freezing. Hundreds of miles from Kabul, someone brought the country to its knees. Gulnaz and Shekiba were tending to the chores when they noticed that the streets were loud and boisterous. There were people shouting and doors slamming. Shekiba sent the kids into the house from the courtyard and opened the gate. Men were walking down the street in a hurry, consternation on their faces and arms waving wildly as they shouted.

“No, it’s true! My brother is in the army! They have no idea who it was!”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know but it’s best to get home and stay there until we find out.”

Shekiba closed the door and leaned against it, the metal sending icy shivers down her spine. What could have happened?

Gulnaz met her at the inner door. The two canaries, brought inside during the winter months, tweeted loudly, egged on by the agitation in the streets.

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure. I just heard someone saying it’s best to stay home. Something is going on.”

“Where is Aasif?”

“God knows.”

Four hours later, their husband showed up. The women had locked the doors and closed the windows, fearful without knowing what it was they were afraid of. His face was heavy with worry and his forehead sweaty, even in the cold.

“Aasif! What is it? What’s happening?” Gulnaz said, meeting him at the door.

“It’s the king. Someone’s killed Habibullah!” he announced, his voice quiet and his breaths heavy. He took off his hat and scarf.

“Allah!” Her hand covered her mouth.

“The city’s in a panic. I was at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs when we got word. He was on some kind of hunting trip, as usual, and he was shot. For a while, they were trying to keep it quiet, but stories began to leak out. You can’t keep something like that hidden for long! We thought it might have just been rumors—you know how easy it is to spread stories in Kabul—but it seems to be true. The army is on alert and they sent for Amanullah. Thankfully, he’s in Kabul already.”

“The shah is… ,” Shekiba said incredulously. She could not bring herself to use her son’s name and “dead” in the same breath.

“Did you not hear everything I just said!? Yes, Habibullah is dead! He’s been assassinated, the bastard.”

His wives winced. However Aasif might have felt, it was unwise to speak ill of the dead.

“How could this have happened? Was it here? In the palace?”

“No, he was in Jalalabad. It must have happened two days ago at least, if word is getting to us now. I can’t believe someone killed him.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Gulnaz said while Shekiba put a hand on her son’s head. Shah had just entered the room and looked at his father with concern. He had no idea what “dead” meant but he could sense that something was not right.

“I don’t know. My guess is that Amanullah will take his father’s place. And he rightfully should. But it’s impossible to say. If his assassination was a coup, then his assassin will have to get through the army. They’ve sworn allegiance to Amanullah.”

“Allah, have mercy on us. This could be a disaster for Kabul!”

“We’ll sit tight and see. Just keep the children inside and keep your mouths shut. This is no time to speculate with the neighbors. Be smart.”

Shekiba turned away so Aasif would not see her roll her eyes. It was hard to swallow such words of wisdom from a man who had violated the king’s harem and condemned Benafsha to a horrible death. Where was his sense of caution then?

But they did as he said and Aasif nervously returned to his post in the Ministry of Agriculture in the morning. The streets were desolate as panic spread through the capital. Aasif stockpiled extra food as a precaution. The assassin was still unidentified and no one had made any moves toward the palace but the army was on high alert, all the same.

Aasif had not seen Amanullah in nearly a year, but now it was critical he reconnect with his friend. He needed to pay his respects and make sure he was aligned with the man who would most likely be taking Habibullah’s place as ruler of Afghanistan. He stopped by the palace, his nerves on edge.

Amanullah was heartbroken and enraged, Aasif reported to his wives. His father’s brother Nasrullah had accompanied the king on his hunting trip. Word came from Jalalabad that Nasrullah had been proclaimed Habibullah’s successor, which angered Amanullah. Amanullah’s eldest brother, Inayatullah, seemed to be in support of his uncle, as were many of Habibullah’s sons.

Amanullah, born to the king’s chief wife, knew his father would have selected him to take the throne. And as leader of the military and treasury, Amanullah was in position to assume the reins of the country and declared himself the new king from his post in Kabul.

Shekiba could picture him, his heart heavy with grief, his noble face drawn and sad. He would be a just and wise king, she knew. She blushed to think of how stupid she had been five years ago, to think that such a man might want her.