Once upon a time life in Afghanistan had all the semblance of normalcy. And then as its fate got embroiled in war and violence, the country’s beautiful landscape was tragically mired in the colour of blood. Yet amidst the fear and struggle, the pain and loss, Afghans learned the art of living.
A Fort of Nine Towers is a profoundly touching memoir of a boy growing up during the last three tumultuous decades in an Afghanistan that bears testimony to extreme brutality and unmeasured compassion. Qais Akbar Omar begins his coming-of-age story by writing about his early life in Kabul, where family picnics and kite-flying were considered the usual thing. With the passage of time, death and destruction became a constant companion of the war-ravaged land.
“It’s been a long and eventful journey and revisiting it has been a difficult and painful experience. But then the nightmares of the past have refused to abandon me. The decision to write about my life story, was perhaps a search for a sense of closure. For two months, I confined myself in a secluded corner of the house, converting memories into words, deliberately opting to first walk through the darkest alleys of the bygone. And then like several times in the past, my mother came to my rescue, she reminded me of the happy moments we had shared. All the humour in the Fort of Nine Towers comes courtesy her,” reveals Qais.
Reflecting on the title, the young writer says, “As the civil war between the warlords intensified, my family was forced to abandon our home and move to a comparatively quiet zone. A good Samaritan who happened to be my father’s friend offered his house that was once a fort with nine towers. Initially, we had assumed, the stay will be of brief duration. But the hope of return was short lived. Like humans, the concretes too suffered from the insanity. The freshly coated façade of our erstwhile home was riddled with bullets, its inside was stripped off all the belongings, my grandfather’s garden lay in ruins. Soon realisation dawned, the house was also a hostage of the vicious gang war that prevailed in the city. The temporary shelter at the fort stretched for years and holds a special place in my memory simply because it provided a sanctuary during the most eventful days of my life.”
In the 1990s, the civil war intensified and the hardships of the family too multiplied. Qais’ clan were in desperate pursuit of a safe haven, which existed beyond their land’s territorial borders. They travelled extensively in the war town country seeking a silver lining of hope. Although the efforts went in vain, in the process they accumulated invaluable experiences, discovering the natural beauty of their country and the loving nature of their countrymen.
As the Taliban replaced the war lords, the rulers changed but the much awaited dawn eluded Afghanistan’s destiny. During the course of the conversation, the uncomfortable question of comparing the mayhem of the Mujahideens’ decade long civil war and living under the Taliban tyranny arises. Qais structures his reply by raising a counter question, “Between death and prison, what will you opt for? Both were extremely cruel and only this thin line separated them.” Looking back, the author who manages a carpet business in Kabul says, “In all the madness, the loss has been hard to compensate. I lost my childhood but realised the value of life.”
Today with the US forces on the verge of leaving, and the whispers acknowledging Taliban’s undeniable presence growing louder, Afghanistan once again stands at the crossroads. On a thought provoking note and in a restraint manner Qais remarks, “Peace is the fundamental need of Afghanistan. For centuries, Pashtuns, Hazaras, Tajiks, Turkmen Uzbek have lived amicably without any trace of schism. The ethnic scars are a recent menace and unity is not a far fetched dream. Remember we are famous for our hospitality but foreign invaders live to regret looking in this direction. Alexander had written to his mother, “It is easy to march into, but difficult to march out.” History remains a witness, Afghan can resist till eternity.”
Underlining the unwavering Afghan spirit, he concludes with the words, “The outside world often attaches a gory image while perceiving Afghanistan. This is an incomplete picture. My homeland is filled with the voices of my sisters, reciting couplets of Omar Khayyam, Rumi, Hafez and Mirza Ghalib. The carpet weavers whose creative endeavours transform yarns into beautiful carpets. This country is rich in valuable minerals and natural resources. The high mountains continue to have a defiant look about them. Truth is, the war was thrust upon us. We are the victims of the grave blunders committed by others. And we still hope, the Afghanistan that was lost and now exists only in fond memories, will gradually return.”