Afghanistan: The Unexplored Frontier

It was 11^th September 2001. The printers in the University computer cluster had been spitting out papers non-stop as dissertations were printed out. It was the final leg of our Masters degree. I don’t recall how the news came in. Maybe someone rushed in and announced or maybe someone saw it online and it spread across the room like a game of Chinese whispers. But, in a few minutes all the screens were tuned into one version or other of the planes crashing into the twin towers. And then in minutes, the towers collapsed into the ground in front of our eyes.
My first thought was that it could not be real. A movie promo? A prank for a show? I scrolled up and down, for a sign to prove that what i had seen had not happened. I looked at my classmates around me, their faces mirrored my disbelief. And that's when reality struck.

For me, that was the day Afghanistan was born. And for the next 14 years, that was all that I identified it with. Up until a month ago.

“I am reading - In A Land Far From Home,” my friend Yash told me. “It is hilarious.” I Googled it and found an excerpt. It was nice but it did not hook me. Then the entire title caught my eye - ‘In A Land Far From Home: A Bengali in Afghanistan’. I was intrigued. I looked up the summary which explained that the novel was an account of the time spent by Bengali writer Syed Mujtaba Ali in Kabul as a teacher in the late 1920s. I was hooked. I wanted to know about the Afghanistan of way back then.

The novel was originally written in Bengali and has been translated to English by journalist Nazes Afroz. In those days, Afghanistan was unknown territory and the translator, in the Preface, describes it as a country ‘keen to shed its hermit image’. The story starts with the writer’s journey from Calcutta to Kabul, first leg by train and the latter by bus. Mujtaba Ali delineates the tribulations that he faces on his trip and the many characters he encounters on the way. Once settled in Kabul the first year passes by without incident. The description of the settings, the food and the people invokes the travel-lust in me. Will it be possible in this lifetime to travel to Afghanistan like one would to Spain or Thailand or …? And see the gardens that Mujtaba Ali spent afternoons in or the snowy peaks of Paghman that formed the backdrop of his house? Unlikely.

Two-thirds into the story, the political climate of Afghanistan changes. The reigning king Amanullah is forced to abdicate and a brigand takes his place. Thievery and rioting are rampant in the streets of Kabul and diplomats and ambassadors of various countries are evacuated by the embassies. With India under British reign at that time, Mujtaba Ali’s evacuation is more complicated and takes longer. Money and food is in short supply and the writer is driven to the brink of death by starvation. But, he survives to tell his tale.

The writer’s incisive observations about everyone and everything around him bring the anecdotes to life. He finds humour in his daily life and interactions with those around him and relays it well to the reader. I am not enamoured by the storytelling skills but the story holds me. Most of all, it is the revelation of a different Afghanistan, the before of the horrific after, that is intriguing.

The story ends just as things start turning downhill for the country and even though it is more than 80 years ago from today, the start of the decline is visible.
Or maybe I say that because I have seen the future.