A COUPLE of months ago, a report talked about a 19-year-old girl being stoned to death in Afghanistan for adultery. The article and images of the dead girl took me back to a book I had finished reading barely a week before this incident: Nadia Hashimi’s debut book The pearl that broke its shell. In the book, King Habibullah’s mistress (one of the several, actually), Banafsha, is stoned to death for daring to let a man other than the king enter her room at night. She was the king’s “property” after all!

I thought this happened only in books, but when I read the news item, I realised I was fooling myself by thinking things have changed in Afghanistan.

In her book, Hashimi has woven the stories of two women from different centuries very beautifully and poignantly. Rahima, the main storyteller is from the present generation, while Shekiba’s story is a century old. Shekiba is Rahima’s greatgreat grandmother. The book points out that except for a few changes such as education, computer knowledge, and the presence of women in Parliament, everything else remains the same. The Bacha Posh custom still exists, wherein a girl child is married off to a man old enough to be her father or grandfather, the wife is still treated like a commodity for sex and slavery, and so on.

This is the story of Rahima, who became a child bride at the age of 13. She, along with her sisters Shahla and Parwin, was sold into marriage by their drug addict father. Rahima was unceremoniously married off was a Bacha Posh. But before that, she was Rahim, and had to dress and act like a boy since her parents could not have a son. Just when she was enjoying the freedom of being a boy, she was married off and thus began her life of abuse and rape at the hands of her husband. Rahima’s crippled and ignored aunt, Khala Shaima, remains her mainstay who keeps the sisters’ minds occupied by telling them the story of Shekiba, who too dresses and behaves like a man to guard the king’s mistresses.

It is also the story of Shahla, who is lucky enough to find herself in a better marriage, since her husband turns out to be good human being. Parwin, socially inept but a gifted artist, ends up in a highly abusive marriage since her husband and family is unable to understand her “artistic nature”. Her story tugs at your heartstrings.

Whatever is doled out to the sisters is considered their naseeb (destiny) and this is how most women in Afghanistan convince themselves about their lives being tough. And it is this very naseeb that Rahima is determined to change for herself – just like her ancestor Shekiba.

This fast-paced, well-written book raises questions about the condition of women in Afghanistan and what can be done to change the mindset of people, both men and women.