The Sahars of Afghanistan

Hello, Ma’am, hope you are safe. I pray to God to protect you, your family and friends from Covid-19…’ was her last message dated April 30 when the devastating second wave of the coronavirus was ravaging the country.

It was a touching message from Sahar, one of my old students, a postgraduate student in economics from Afghanistan. Sahar had a pleasant demeanour. Though not very bright, she was a diligent student. Her fundamentals in economics were not strong and she lacked proficiency in language, yet with her dedication and sincerity, she overcame challenges and managed a second division.

After completing her education, she returned to her homeland. Through my occasional interaction with her on social media, I learnt that she was decently placed in a government job in Kabul. Sahar was one of the few Afghan students studying in my college. In fact, it has not been long since Afghan girls have started coming to Chandigarh for higher education. Recalling my initial years as a lecturer in the ’80s, there were many foreign students from Fiji, Mauritius, Iran and also from Kenya, Nigeria and South Africa.

The African girls would stand out with their distinct physique and looks. I can’t forget how frail and pigmy I looked in my early twenties in front of those girls with an athletic built. Over the past few years, the demography of international students has changed altogether. Now, foreign students are mostly from SAARC nations, especially Nepal, Bhutan and also Afghanistan. The Afghan girls look distinctive mainly because of their attire, a scarf fully covering their head and a loose garment over their dress.

Coming back to Sahar’s heart-warming message, I happened to read the text a couple of days later on May 2. I responded immediately, thanked her for the good wishes and at the same time, warned her of the notorious new strain of the virus. But there was no response. Anxiously, I checked her Facebook page, but found her account deleted.

I had advised Sahar to be wary of the virus but little did I know that there was a bigger danger in the form of a civil war looming over Afghanistan.

I pray for peace in the land of Kabuliwala, a country which has a special place in my heart ever since I read Rabindranath Tagore’s iconic short story in my childhood. My heart goes out to Sahar, and all the girls and women in Afghanistan whose safety and rights are at stake. I wish and pray their hard won rights and limited freedom gained over the past two decades is not snatched away. With a sincere hope that the notable improvement in the lives of women in terms of education, job opportunities and civil liberties is not eroded, I also pray for the well-being of Sahar.