The Taliban Cricket Club (23 page)

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Authors: Timeri N. Murari

BOOK: The Taliban Cricket Club
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“Nargis,” I said. “You remember her, don't you? I played cricket with her, and she came over to the house sometimes to pick me up. She called.”

He frowned, trying to place her. He had been only eleven or twelve years old then and, at that age, boys paid very little attention to an older sister's friends. “No, I don't remember her at all. What did she want?”

I was lying, without a conscience, to my brother if only to protect myself. “She wanted to know how I was, how we were, and I told her.”

“Where was she calling from? Delhi?”

“Yes. I told her my problems and she promised to help.”

“How?”

“By sending me the money, as a loan of course.”

“Is she rich?”

“No, she's working in America. I guess that makes her a lot richer than us.” I did a little dance around the dark room to make him happy. “She's using a
hawala
.”

He laughed now and held me. “As soon as it comes I'll see Juniad and make all the arrangements for you to leave. Today's Wednesday. I think it will take two or three days for the money to reach here.” We didn't need to check the calendar. “So it could be here Friday or Saturday.”

“That's very close. I'll leave Saturday.”

“If he has a full load. He won't make a run until he does.”

“Can't he just take me?” I said in impatience.

“The price will go through the roof of his old Land Rover.”

“More than two thousand?”

“It carries nine or ten, depending on how many he can squeeze in. So that makes around nine thousand for just you.” Jahan kept hold of me. “Even if you had that much I don't want you to travel alone with him. There'll be safety in numbers.”

“I know. You come with me, there's enough for—”

“No, I can't,” he said, shaking his stubborn head. “I won't let the team down, I have to play in the match. They will never forgive me for breaking my word.” Then he added with a sneer, “I'm not a Shaheen who doesn't honor his word.”

“You're right.” I sighed. He was as obstinate as me and I knew I couldn't change his mind. I had to respect his decision. “I have to get out by Saturday night. Friday night, if we have the money. Go and talk to him and bargain. Offer him one, and if he pushes, make it two. Once I'm in Pakistan we'll meet and go to Delhi.”

He looked past me, upstairs to Mother's room. “But you can't leave until . . .”

“I have to, as the alternative is . . . ,” I replied. “I only pray she will forgive me.”

I slept in my cell as if I was on a feather bed in an open room.

The next day too I remained at home while Jahan went to practice with the team. I was in a state of enchantment, and in a state of utter despair, remembering every word of my conversation with Veer. I wiped my eyes with my shirtsleeves. I had to occupy myself. I dusted, I cleaned, I sat dreamily staring at the walls that couldn't contain my imagination as I flew across boundaries to meet Veer.

I made a vegetable soup for Mother, and when she woke I sat beside her to spoon in the hot nourishment. When she tried to hide a grimace, I put it away and prepared the injection. Each time her flesh grew even more papery and her veins were faded blue trickles flowing through a parched landscape.

“No cricket again today?” she whispered.

“I just wanted to spend time with you. Dr. Hanifa will be in later to see you. She says you're fine . . .”

“Liar,” Mother said gently. “I know it's nearer. I dream a lot now. I dream of your father mostly and I know he's waiting for me to join him.”

“Don't say that,” I cried and held her in my arms, as light as a small child, as fragile as crystal. “I can't live without you.”

“You'll learn to live your life, even as Jahan will too, without me.” She smiled and looked into my eyes. “It would happen sooner or later.” She pulled me closer. “You must leave me, Hanifa will care for me.”

“We'll see . . .”

“Then you must marry Shaheen, have your own children, and live a happy life. And look after Jahan.”

“As my own child,” I said and kept crying, rocking her gently in my arms.

She pushed away and held me at arm's length. “There's something you're not telling me. Your eyes have a glow that I haven't seen for a long time.”

These were her final days and hours. I could not lie to her. I believed the last words spoken were carried into the next world, where the person had all the leisure to examine them and, if they were false, send out their displeasure to haunt the liar.

“You must tell me.”

“Shaheen married another girl in America.”

“Oh god.” Her face crumpled. “How could he do that, he was committed . . . ?” She pushed away so the light touched my face. “Why the glow then? You should be weeping.”

“I had a . . . friend in Delhi.” I hurried on, “He called me yesterday.”

“A friend?” Now she frowned. “The boy you were seeing in Delhi?”

“You knew?”

“I knew that radiance—a woman can tell when another woman is in love. You had it many evenings when you came home from college and after all those afternoon films. And then on your final day you were darker than night. I didn't ask his name. I knew you would behave. And you had the right to fall in love. We cannot control our emotions when the unexpected happens. And when you never spoke of him, I knew you had refused to marry him. But the more you postponed your engagement to Shaheen, the more I knew you still loved the man. What's his name? This mysterious ghost who has haunted my daughter's life.”

“Veer.”

She nodded understandingly. “Your father would never have given permission. He would have sent you back to Kabul if he had known.”

“Would you have?”

She let me wait for her answer as she thought about it. “Yes, if only for your own safety I would have honored your father's decision. We have so many divisions among us, why add religion to break our backs? So much evil has slipped into religion and we'll never be rid of it.” She reached for my hand and I held on just so I could feel its warmth. “Let me hold you, my child.” I lay down beside her, my head in the crook of her arm, a child snuggled in for comfort. “I wish I had met him. He has held on to his love for you all these years.”

I smiled in her embrace.

“I know you love this Veer. Go to him.” She shook her head in finality. “But you cannot live in this country with him.”

“I know.”

I lay with her while the morphine took effect and she dozed off. I rose when I heard the front door open and sneaked out to look. It was Jahan, and he looked somber as he climbed the stairs.

“Why aren't you practicing?”

“I went there but couldn't find the team. Then I went to Parwaaze's.” He took a breath. “Droon visited Parwaaze and the team early this morning.”

“Oh god!” My hand flew to my mouth. “Are they alive?”

The Cricketers

A
N HOUR LATER, THEY CAME TO OUR HOUSE
. P
ARWAAZE
had a swollen cheek and Qubad nursed a badly cut lip and was still sucking on the blood. When I reached out in apology to caress their faces, they pulled away in pain. Their clothes were muddied and the front of their
shalwars
were spotted with blood. Jahan brought in cups of tea and Parwaaze drank his quickly, while Qubad winced at the heat.

“They woke me up from a deep sleep while it was still dark and one of them dragged me out and slammed me against the wall.” Parwaaze spoke, slurring the words slightly as his tongue worried that cheek. “Another Talib hit me in the mouth and then punched his gun butt into my stomach. I swear I didn't know where I was: asleep and dreaming of pain, or wide awake and suffering it. There was a third man, grinning widely. He grabbed my hair and dragged me to my feet.

“ ‘Where is your cousin Rukhsana?' ” he asked.

“I was too surprised to answer immediately and the gun butt hit me in the lower back. Even in such pain, I knew I had to spin lies. I would not be responsible for your fate.”

“I'm so sorry, so sorry that I have caused you such pain,” I said, tears coming to my eyes.

“I knew that behind these men was Wahidi. I remembered your words—‘Cricket is drama, it is theater, it is the conflict between one man and eleven others, and that one has to defeat the enemy surrounding him on the field. It is about the two warriors battling it out between themselves.' I was a warrior now.

“I told him, ‘She went away to Mazar-e-Sharif with her uncle and . . .'

“He called me a liar and then took my face between his fingers and squeezed, nearly breaking my jaw. He said, ‘You will be imprisoned in Pul-e-Charkhi, tortured and raped, if you don't tell us.'

“When I didn't show I was frightened, he went on, ‘I am Droon, Wahidi's brother, and I promise I have not come to harm her. My brother only wishes to talk to her, to see if she will consider his proposal. Just tell us where she is and nothing will happen to you or to her.'

“ ‘Mazar,' I told him again.

“Droon gestured to a fighter and the man smiled as he pressed the muzzle hard against my head.

“ ‘When I lift this finger,' and Droon shook his finger under my nose, ‘he will pull the trigger.'

“I was scared that would happen, but I managed a smile.

“ ‘He's mad,' the fighter said.

“ ‘Why do you smile?' Droon demanded.

“ ‘I'll be captain of my cricket team and teach everyone how to play the game in paradise,' I said.

“ ‘He is mad.'

“ ‘I heard about your wanting to learn this game and that you practice at the university.'

“ ‘Who told you?' I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“ ‘A friend. You entered your team in the match next week?'

“ ‘Yes. There will be a foreign observer and he will learn that we wanted to play, but you killed the captain so that the other team could win. Everyone will know about that when I am killed.'

“ ‘And how did you learn to play the game?'

“ ‘From books.' I pointed to the book on the floor. He picked it up and slipped it into his
shalwar
pocket.

“ ‘And you are a team of cousins.'

“ ‘Yes.'

“ ‘They won't be as mad as this one,' Droon said to his fighters. ‘They will tell us where she is. Search the house.'

“They searched and of course didn't find you. Then he dragged me out of the room, past my father and my brother. My father stood between them and the door.

“ ‘What has my son done?' Father demanded.

“ ‘We are looking for Rukhsana. Do you know where she is?'

“ ‘No,' my father said.

“Droon gestured. His fighter raised the automatic and pointed it at Father's chest.

“ ‘Is that how you expect respect? My son says he does not know. He is not a liar.'

“ ‘You're all liars. I will return and your family will see ruin.'

“ ‘Ruin!' Father said. ‘Your government has already ruined me. Your men destroyed my business. What worse can you do to me?'

“As they took me outside, Father placed his palm against his heart in farewell. They dragged me to the waiting Land Cruiser and threw me into the back like a sack of grain, and that really hurt.”

“I am so sorry,” I said to Parwaaze. “All because of me.”

“Also cricket,” he replied, trying a smile and wincing.

Qubad took up the story.

“Droon sent the police to search all our houses. He knew the whole team. He then lined us up on the road. Everyone stopped to watch before getting out of their way. Then we saw Azlam on his motorbike ride past very slowly. He didn't look, but I could see the smile on his face as he passed. I'll kill him when I see him.”

I noticed in his fury that he had lost his stutter.

“Droon then slapped each of us very hard,” Parwaaze continued.

“ ‘All of you listen carefully.' Droon spoke slowly, deliberately. ‘You will die very soon, when I give the order. No one can stop me from killing you, no one will care that you have died except your families. You are hiding a traitor to this great country. But you can live and be well rewarded if you tell me where we can find Rukhsana. I will guarantee that you will be paid a lot of money and you can leave the country to live wherever you wish to live. There will be no loss of honor in serving your country.'

“He stopped. When none of us said anything or even moved, he lifted his hand; the fighters lifted their guns. Royan put his arm around Omaid's shoulder.

“ ‘I don't understand the power of this woman that keeps your mouths shut,' Droon told us. ‘She is only a woman. Why die for a woman? She should die for you. Women are evil.'

“ ‘My mother was not evil,' Omaid said. Omaid! Who could have imagined! He surprised us with his anger, and surprised Droon too. ‘She was a good woman. Is your mother evil?'

“ ‘I was not talking about her,' Droon snapped at Omaid and walked over to him.

“We thought he would shoot him.

“Then Namdar stepped forward, and he didn't speak with any fear. ‘Sir, we are young men and don't know the world. If women are evil, why then is your brother so anxious to marry Rukhsana?' ”

“Namdar said that?” I said. Before playing cricket, he would just shuffle his feet and look away. But once I chose him to be our fast bowler, he had gradually become more aggressive, a necessary trait.

“Yes,” Parwaaze continued. “Droon did slap him but not too hard.

“Droon said, ‘My brother is a pious and good man and believes he can save this woman from her bad traits.' ”

Parwaaze went on: “Don't forget, his men still pointed their guns at us and I thought now he would give the order. Instead, he gestured for them to lower their guns and, like them, he looked disappointed.

“He said to us: ‘You are fortunate. My brother does not want me to kill any one of Rukhsana's family, as this will cause bad blood between him and her family.' ”

Parwaaze paused, holding my attention while he was blinking hard. “We relaxed when we heard that.

“Then Droon smiled and went on:

“ ‘I promised I would not kill you, but those in Pul-e-Charkhi will. After six months none of you may be alive, such things happen there. If you win the final match—and you won't, as the state team is very good—I cannot stop you from going to Pakistan. My brother gave his word and I will not break it. But when you lose, and I know you will, and stay in the country, you will have a holiday in prison for defying my authority. Don't think you can run away and hide like that woman. I will find you; my men are watching your homes.' ”

I still had my hand to my mouth when Parwaaze finished, or at least I thought he had, and didn't break the silence until he spoke again.

“There's something else Droon said, but not to us. He talked to himself and didn't think I'd overhear.

“Droon stepped back and I heard him mutter to himself, ‘I should have shot her in the office if I'd known this would turn into an obsession.' ”


I was a fraction away from the bullet,” I whispered. “But I had expected it from Wahidi then, not Droon, who stood behind him.”

Parwaaze remained grim. “He's not forgotten you either and he will kill you when he finds you.”

I couldn't even say a word. My throat was dry with fear.

“He won't do that,” Jahan said fiercely. “His brother will never allow it.”

“His brother won't even know,” Parwaaze countered. “He finds Rukhsana, kills her, and then tells Wahidi that he couldn't find her or that she's gone to Pakistan. He believes”—he stared at me with compassion—“you've cast a spell on his brother and the only way to counter it is to kill you and free him.”

None of us spoke a word. The threat was almost visible in our heads and we saw it racing toward us—for them the prison, for me the bullet. I knew that we were lost.

“Shaheen's sent the money and papers?” Parwaaze asked, breaking into our thoughts.

I told them the story, ending with the money arriving Friday, Saturday at the latest, I hoped.

They both shook their heads. “He's betrayed the family,” Parwaaze announced angrily.

“He has dishonored you and Jahan,” Qubad added, with the same fervor. “But Friday's a holiday. The
hawala
dealer will close.”

“Then it has to be Saturday.”

I turned to Jahan. “Go and see Juniad. Tell him he has to take me out this Saturday night.”

“We have to win all our matches, as Droon promised that he wouldn't stop us from leaving.” Qubad looked beseeching. “Before you leave, you must help us sharpen our game.”

“Okay. I'll join you tomorrow.” It was a reckless act, but I owed them at least this.

The next morning, after watching the road for half an hour for any suspicious-looking loiterers, Jahan and I left the house by the side gate and cut through back lanes. We kept looking back for pursuers but saw no one. It was a hazy, warm morning and I felt such pleasure at being freed from the house after days of imprisonment.
Soon, every day of my life will be free,
I thought.
I'll be with Veer and we'll live in Delhi, and I'll work as a journalist again.

The team was waiting, eager to polish their game as much as they could while they still had their coach. We started practice immediately and I worked with them all day—correcting their batting technique, getting them to bowl straighter and bounce the ball in the right place. Namdar was bowling ferociously now, a leap in his stride as he delivered the ball; Omaid smiled and clapped when his ball bounced and turned; Royan was flamboyant, like Parwaaze, in his batting, taking steps down to hit the ball hard. Each one had grown over the three weeks and I saw how much they loved the game and believed they had a chance to win the final match. They were not just cousins but teammates and friends. Yet I was still concerned about that ringer on the state's team. He looked very good.

As the light began to fade, we had our usual fielding session with me hitting the ball high for them to run and catch. And that was when the accident happened.

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