Azfaar and I were both undergraduate students at the same "Kandahar University" in 1996. I was accepted into a "Sharia-law" program. Sharia is Islam's legal system. Sharia is an Arabic term that means "the clear, well-trodden path to water" and is derived from our holy book, the Quran. Azfaar, on the other hand, was passionate about computer engineering. I was 19years old, and he was 20.
Despite being Muslim, he was a tall, thin man with a short beard. I first noticed him at the college entrance. I wore a hijab and held books in my hands. It was forbidden for a girl to hang out with men. Furthermore, as a student of Sharia law, I must always adhere to its principles. Azfaar and I used to make 5-second eye contact and feel each other's smiles through our eyes.
Ruksaar, Savanna, and Mumtaaz used to be in my group. He was constantly alone, surrounded by his books. We attempted to converse but lacked the courage. Finally, Eid arrived, and the University hosted a little celebration. I wished him a "Happy Eid," and he reciprocated. I was overjoyed. I inquired as to what he was studying. Computer engineering was Azfaar's response. I was looking forward to speaking with him. Then, to lengthen the conversation, I inquired about the meaning of his name. Azfaar means victory and triumph, he said softly. So I explained the meaning of my name to him. "One who has a comfortable existence," my name implied. " Ferhana, are you happy with your life?" he questioned, smiling. In Afghanistan, I mean, during the civil war? I responded, "Azfaar, I could have been living a comfortable life, but I am a Sharia law student.” We all chuckled at the same instant. My girls were staring at us and smiling at the same moment. Then I added a third time, "Whoever walks a path in search of knowledge, Allah will make the path to heaven simple for them.” Surprisingly, he asked me, Ferhana, you had read Hadith?
Hadith is Prophet Muhammad's holy book. To Azfaar, I said yes. "It'll be fantastic making talks with you now," he added. I reddened a little. I began casually conversing with him during breaks the next day. Days passed, and then all of a sudden he starts an unusual conversation with me. " Ferhana, you always look gorgeous in Hijab, anyone might fall in love with you," he added. "Does your Sharia law permit you to make anyone fall in love with you?" he said again. Azfaar, I said, love, knows no bounds." Then he expressed his feelings and said, "I am in love with you Ferhana". Azfaar, how did you fall in love with me? I asked him again. "How do you constantly fall in love with the sun throughout the winter?" he responded eloquently. I responded that I sense its warmth. When I'm with you, I sense your warmth as well. He continued, Do you like me, Ferhana? Since the first time I spoke with you, I've liked you. I said, "I'm in love with you, Azfaar." We hugged strongly, yet this was against my Sharia rule. We began to pay frequent visits. We used to converse about our classes and sometimes referring to the same "Sunnah and Hadith" book.
"When husband and wife gaze at each other with affection, Allah looks at both of them with mercy," Azfaar wrote me one morning, paraphrasing a Hadith adage. I told Azfaar that we are not husband and wife. Simply keep your love from over flowing hero” I added. I was an average student, but Azfaar was a brilliant student. Mom, Dad, and my older brother were all strict, so I wasn't permitted to go out at all.
So we used to communicate over the phone and remove the messages from Mom's phone. However, with the help of my friends, we were able to set up a coffee date in a very intimate way. We had such a wonderful day together. After a week, Taliban insurgents took control of the government, resulting in widespread instability throughout the country. The university was closed, and the entire country was terrified.
We were not permitted to attend school and work. Women were subjected to harsh punishments. My brother was studying at the American University of Afghanistan in Kabul at the same time. Azfaar used to call me and inquire if I was okay. "Always in terror, Azfaar," I would always respond. The next day, national and international news stations broadcasted footage of the Taliban people's brutality.
"I honestly feel that you had never taught to make women cry," I used to respond to Allah. Mumtaaz forwarded me a note from Azfaar the other day. He had written beautifully about how much he missed me and how he wanted to share his life with me. I, too, wrote a letter and answered all of his questions. "Life is uncertain Azfaar, especially the future," I added.
I can't guarantee you anything I've never seen before. But I make a "dua" for both of us every time. We were head over heels in love. Azfaar, in particular, was experiencing more than I had anticipated. Through our letters, we used to tell the story of Prophet Muhammad and Ayesha's love. "I always want you to be my Ayesha, I love you Ferhana," he once wrote. My brother hastily returned from Kabul.
He was a talented student as well as a kind brother. "Ferhana," he clarified. I'm concerned for your safety. This is a dangerous place. I'd like to look after you and our family. Along with you guys, I finished my undergrad and filed for a US visa. There, we'll live in safety. "Is it good to leave a home nation, Nasir?" I was astonished and asked my brother. " Ferhana, the home that just brings you misery can't be a home country for all of us," he said. Why don't you see that the Taliban is using Allah's name to fulfil their desires?" Nasir was accompanied by our parents. Mom persuades me to support Nasir. I asked for some time.
I wrote Azfaar a letter right away, detailing everything. We can't leave Ferhana, he responded, because it would be too difficult for us both." Because I couldn't go against my parents, I requested if he may move to the United States after a few years. "No, I can't go against my parents either," he said, "so please remain with me Ferhana, I'll look after yours." Azfaar, I said, it's not feasible.
He used to write me countless letters and notes, but I had become harsh and had been ignoring his communications for quite some time. The charming talk had come to an end. During the night, I used to cry uncontrollably. I used to cherish the time I spent with Azfaar. Unfortunately, the time for departure was approaching. The visa arrived after a month. I dialed Azfaar's number. "When are you leaving Ferhana?" he inquired when he picked up the phone. Tomorrow, I said, tearfully. With a gentle voice, he said, "All the best for your future." He then hung up on the phone. I cried a lot. Some destinations are just for a short time, but their memories will stay with us emotionally and mentally for a long time. We arrived in the United States after leaving Afghanistan.
Although the country was safe, my heart was not. I'm continuing my general law studies. I tried calling Azfaar several times but couldn't summon the confidence. A decade and a half had passed, as has the second decade. Now it's 2021, and I'm married with three children. The Taliban's capture of the Afghan government was the next big story. The president took off. If the Talibanic takeover hadn't occurred, I may still be with Azfaar today, I reasoned. I eventually remembered Azfaar and called him. The phone rings several times, but no one answers it. Azfaar will never forgive me; I exhaled deeply and exclaimed, "Oh Allah!"
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