Kabul diaries

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: and there will be firing. Unfortunately, the firing takes place outside a friend’s house while I am looking for the address with great difficulty (as Kabul has no house numbers or nameplates).

So, I took a detour and went to the other part of the city where I found Hazara, Tajik and Pashtun children playing. I saw a couple fighting over a shoe and wondered if they will grow up to fight over this country as their forefathers have. Ghulam decided I was gloomy and, ironically, tried to cheer me up with a tour of the Landmine Museum, the European Cemetery, the Russian War Memorial Cemetery and the Kabul stadium, site of the Taliban’s infamous beheadings.

Infinitely more dreary, I decided it was time to eat some chocolate and watch television in my room. ‘A1 Supermarket’, an institution beyond the memorials offers chocolate Magnums (last spotted in England) and reminded me of my university lessons that Afghanistan was a war-ravaged country. The ruins of the Dar-ul-Aman Palace emphasise that sentiment, reminding me how hollow a battlefield is and how the City Walls of Bala Hissar were designed to keep invading forces away but not to combat air strikes. Amidst war, the common man has been left far behind. The Kabul University, the Habibia Girls High School and the various other donor-driven initiatives offer some hope. The Afghans shared about their life and their land with such pride and gratitude that I came back much humbled.

Waiting to board my flight at the Japanese departure terminal, it occured to me that Kabul is addictive and that I will make a comeback soon. And hopefully, so will Afghanistan.