The Pearl That Broke Its Shell

This life is difficult. We lose fathers, brothers, mothers, songbirds and pieces of ourselves. Whips strike the innocent, honors go to the guilty, and there is too much loneliness. I would be a fool to pray for my children to escape all of that. Ask for too much and it might actually turn out worse. But I can pray for small things, like fertile fields, a mother’s love, a child’s smile—a life that’s less bitter than sweet.

The human spirit, you know what they say about the human spirit? Is is harder than a rock and more delicate than a flower petal.

The hell with naseeb. Naseeb is what people blame for every thing they can't fix.

When things are rough, people look for an escape. A way out. Sometimes it's hard to find the right way.

The person who doesn't appreciate the apple, doesn't appreciate the orchard.

People who are beset by tragedy once and twice are sure to grieve again. Fate finds it easier to retrace its treads.

Life has typhoons. They come and turn everything upside down. But you still have to standup because the next storm may be around the corner.

Funny, isn't it? We hear the same name and while they see dark, I see light.

I was pretty sure everyone was praying for different things. I wondered how Allah would sort it all out.

Do as you must -- you are not a child. But understand that there are many people willing to make your life more difficult. It is up to you to find a way to make things easier for yourself.

He tried to work alongside his father as a carpenter but a man who had been taught only to destroy found it hard to create.

The human spirit, you know what they say about the human spirit? It is harder than a rock and more delicate than a flower petal.

But times change. Everything changes. Birds fly away, one by one.

Why do we keep the Qur’an all the way up there, Madar-jan? It is so hard to reach it there! Because nothing is above the Qur’an. This is how we show our respect for the word of Allah.

But her personality made her glow. People looked at her and couldn’t help but smile.

Poor girl. She ran out from under a leaking roof and sat in the rain.

That is the problem with gifts, Madar-jan. They are always given away.

On education - Every bit does some good. I'm lucky I know how to read. It's a candle in a dark room. What I don't know, I can find out for myself. It's easier to fool someone who can't figure things out on his own.

A conversation began to take shape between us. A conversation that happened in unspoken words, in false words, in knowing glances.

Shekiba was born at the turn of the twentieth century, in an Afghanistan eyed lasciviously by Russia and Britain. Each would take turns promising to protect the borders they had just invaded, like a pedophile who professes to love his victim. The borders between Afghanistan and India were drawn and redrawn from time to time, as if only penciled in. People belonged to one country and then the other, nationalities changing as often as the direction of the wind. For Great Britain and the Soviet Union, Afghanistan was the playing field for their "Great Game," the power struggle to control Central Asia. But the game was slowly coming to an end, the Afghan people ferociously resisting outside control. Chests expanded with pride when Afghans talked about their resilience. But parts of Afghanistan were taken—little by little until its borders shrank in like a wool sweater left in the rain. Areas to the north like Samarkand and Bukhara had been lost to the Russian Empire. Chunks of the south were chipped away and the western front was pushed in over the years.

Ghafoor came from a modest family in a nearby village and had been given to the palace in exchange for a cow.

Shekiba-e-shola? Are you joking? He’ll take one look at her and come after us demanding twice what we owe!

was. It had been years since her father had shown an interest in anything beyond their walls. “Is he coming here?” “Here? Are you crazy, Shekiba? He is going to Kaka Hafizullah’s house.” Azizullah’s brother had managed to secure himself a position as a friend of the monarchy. He served as a regional overseer and reported to the authorities in Kabul, the capital. For years, he had

[My father,] A man who had been taught only to destroy found it hard to create.

Her father read a prayer over the mound of dirt and they looked at each other, quietly wondering which of them would join the others first.

He would be waking up soon.

Many of our decisions were not decisions at all. We were herded into one choice or another, to put it gently.

But sometimes you have to act out of line, I suppose. Sometimes you have to take a chance if you want something badly enough.

The person who doesn’t appreciate the apple doesn’t appreciate the orchard.