My Abu was an intelligent man. He graduated with an Engineering degree in Lahore, before moving back to Kabul, where he grew up. He knew that the threat of the Taliban was prominent, and the hostile political situation was no place for a highly educated man like him. However, he couldn’t leave the city that gave him his passion for poetry, his love for the architecture, his fascination with religion, and my grandma a lover.
When he moved back in, he opened a repair shop for electronics. It wasn’t the most profitable, especially after the Taliban took over the city and forced him to shut down the business. But he persisted, taking his workshop to the small shed in our backyard. I remember waking up in the early mornings, occasionally to a metronome of distant gun fire, to find Abu in the shed, crouched over an open television box. The TVs fascinated me the most, I was enamoured by the tiny electrical components, that looked as if a model of a tiny city. The different shapes and colours, and the complexity of each of them surpassing anything my childlike mind could fathom. Abu would work on these parts like an artist would a painting. His hand scratching at the grey beard hanging on his chin whenever something puzzled him. I loved watching his work more than anything, sitting with my legs crossed besides as he went through the gruelling work. Though, I wasn’t allowed to be there when he wasn’t, he always locked the shed before leaving, which I assumed, for most of my childhood, was to hide his hobby from the vigilant eyes of the Taliban. However, nowadays, I’ve realized there was more to his need for security.
During the first unwanted rule of the Taliban, movies, alongside many other things deemed as “western propaganda” were prohibited. Punishment for possessing illegal items was always more than severe. Despite this, people took risks. I recall the titanic being a film that everyone would talk of in hushed whispers. CDs and tapes of the movie being discreetly passed around for entertainment. Abu would help folks get their old VCRs and DVD players started again, and unfortunately, while at a client’s house, men from the Taliban raided the small complex. Abu, being the saint that he was, told the men that he was going around trying to sell the CD player, and the client had nothing to do with what was happening. He took the blame of it all, despite having been called there to repair the device. The men didn’t believe him, and instead insisted on grabbing the client, Abu pulled one of them by the arm and enraged, the man pointed a pistol between my father’s eyes…and pulled the trigger.
For weeks after, my mother wept. Dark pits sinking under her eye sockets. Eventually, deciding she couldn’t take it any more, she made the choice to flee the country with me. I told her we couldn’t leave, I screamed about how Abu would have never wanted to go a mile away from Kabul, let alone another country, but she hit me till my protests withered into light sobs. She took the liberty of planning our escape, while leaving me to gather our stuff, instructing me to only take what we absolutely needed. I painfully obliged. While going through her room, I stumbled upon a silver key resting at the bottom of one of her drawers. A sense of familiarity echoed from it, and I soon recognized it to be Abu’s shed key. My eyes watered, instantly recalling the times I had spent with him in that little room, and eventually I was crumpled on my mother’s bed, dry heaving while clutching the key to my chest.
After the river of tears dried from my face, I rose to my feet. Deciding I needed to see that room one last time before we left, just one last time. The lock was rusty, being the same one since I was a little girl. I grabbed it, staring at my messy hair and puffy eyes in its reflection. The key sat perfectly inside, though required a bit more effort to turn it. The locked opened with a squeal and I place it on the floor besides me. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. The room was dark, and musty, strands of light pouring through the cracks of the old wooden walls, illuminating tiny dust particles that swam in the air. I walked in, reaching for the gasoline lamp Abu had kept in there, and lit it. I saw his little desk, and tears returned again, I fell on to the floor with my head between my knees, feeling the grief tear my heart a thousand times over.
“What’s the matter, gul?”
I froze. The voice sounded deep and scratchy, immediately grabbing my attention. I raised my head from where I sat, to find the room empty. However, an old television that Abu had in the corner was miraculously turned on, static casting a slight glow on the otherwise dimly lit room. We didn’t have electricity for months, so this made no sense. I heard the speaker on it hiss at me.
“Why are you crying, my child?”
My head cocked to the side,
“Is the TV talking to me?”
I thought.
“Do you not want to speak to me?”
The voice rasped again, its deep tone sounded calm and soothing.
“I don’t understand what’s happening…”
I replied, my voice shook a little from the absurdity of the situation.
“Ah… I see. Don’t be scared gul I am no enemy of yours.”
My legs strained, but I managed to get back on my feet.
“Tell me, why were you crying, child.”
I stared blankly at the TV, my face still moist from sweat and tears.
“Abu…the Taliban killed him.”
The words almost choked me on the way out, never did I acknowledge his death out loud, and I couldn’t have guessed how horrible it felt.
“Hai Allah, that’s bad, bad news…”
Its voice was slow and monotone, lacking any emotions behind it.
“He was a good friend of mine…your Abu.”
“He was?”
I questioned.
“Of course, my gul… I was nothing but a hunk of metal before your Abu helped me, he fixed me, brought me back to life, you see?”
The flame of the lamp made dark shadows stretch around me, for a minute I could have sworn I saw the shape of a man besides the dusty television.
“That’s…nice of him, I guess”
I said, not knowing how to respond.
“Do you want to see him, gul? I can help you.”
My eyes widened, the despair of losing my father had blinded me of the utter impossibility this mysterious talking television had just proposed. Nodding, I replied
“Oh please, I would do anything to see him again!”
The TV hissed once more,
“Of course my gul… I would love to help you out.”
I watched the static of the TV shift and swirl, it seemed to get more intense, until eventually the entire screen turned pure white. A high-pitched screech emanated from its speakers, comparable to that of the sound of nails on a chalkboard. I covered my ears, unable to bear the sharp sound. That’s when the TV suddenly turned black, and for a moment I thought it had switched off. But my eyes could make out a silhouette in the inky darkness of the screen. I watched as it made its way closer, growing bigger and bigger, until eventually it was right up to the other side of the glass. Then, a bright spotlight turned on above the silhouette, and immediately I recognized the old, wrinkly face and greying beard.
“ABU!”
I screamed, running towards the screen and pressing my face right up to it.
“Oh my baby.”
The sound of Abu’s voice made its way through the speakers.
“I’m so sorry I left you like that.”
“No! No, please don’t say sorry, I know you didn’t mean to.”
I said through tears.
“I just miss you so much Abu, I feel like my world is in two right now… And Ammi, I don’t know what’s gotten into her, she’s trying to get us to move out of Kabul, I told her you wouldn’t like it, but she doesn’t listen.”
“Shhhhh…”
Abu’s voice whispered,
“No more tears, okay?”
I nodded, wiping my face.
“Ammi loves you, beta…that’s why she’s trying to get you away from here. Kabul isn’t safe any more, you know this.”
“But Abu…”
I protested,
“Kabul is our home, what if I leave, and I forget you? I forget all the time we spent together, I forget all our favourite poems and all the stories you told me from when you were a child?”
He let out a warm, hearty laugh, momentarily making me forget about everything that had torn my world apart.
“You’re just as stubborn as me, aren’t you? You would never forget those things, beta, I will always be in your heart to remind you…”
“Abu…”
I sighed,
“I don’t want to leave Kabul…”
I watched as he scratched his beard, looking to be deep in thought.
“Hmm…okay.”
He replied,
“Well, there’s one thing, you can do, so you don’t have to leave.”
My eyebrows raised in excitement,
“What is it, Abu! What can I do?”
His image on the screen looked at me lovingly in the eyes,
“You can come with me, we can stay here, together.”
I took a step back, confused as to what he was suggesting,
“How can I do that…”
Abu smiled,
“With a little help, of course.”
He stretch his arm out, and I watched as his hand slowly emerge out of the screen. The hand, looked odd, occasionally glitching, and seemed to have a layer of TV static over it.
“Come with me beta, we can spend eternity together, here in Kabul. Just me and you.”
I hesitated,
“What about Ammi…?”
“Forget her.”
He replied,
“Wasn’t she the one trying to take you away from me? She doesn’t deserve you, come beta, let’s go live our lives happily together, we only need each other.”
The arm stretched out a little further, getting close to me. A shiver crept down my spine, Abu would never be this mean to anyone, especially not my mother. He loved her more than anything.
“When’s my birthday…?”
I asked timidly,
“What?”
Abu replied.
“If you’re really Abu, you should know my birthday. You never forget.”
The figure of Abu stared at me, his eyes squinting in annoyance.
“We don’t have time for such shenanigans, take my hand, so we can go.”
The voice was clearly agitated.
“No. I will only come if you tell me when I was born.”
I watched the figure contemplate for a while, before lowering its eyebrows in frustration.
“Fine… If you don’t come by yourself. I’LL JUST FUCKING TAKE YOU.”
It wasn’t Abu speaking to me any more, the voice was too deep to even be human, let alone my father. I watched as the arm threw itself towards me, I managed to dodge, barely missing its grasp. The shape on the TV doubled in size, no longer trying to disguise itself as Abu.
“COME HERE YOU HARAMI. YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN AWAY FROM ME???”
The figure cackled a demonic laugh. I panicked as I saw the arm dive for me again. I ran to Abu’s tool kit, grabbing the hammer that sat in the wooden box. Once again, barely escaping the arm’s reach. I sprinted towards the television, running alongside the extended limb that was now behind me. Once I got close enough, I swung the tool straight into the front, sending shards of glass everywhere. A shrill scream bounced off the shed’s rotting walls, followed by nothing but ear-splitting silence. Taking the first breath in a while, I fell to my knees, eventually finding the familiar heartache return to my chest with vengeance, once again causing me to weep.
We managed to flee Afghanistan, although it was never easy. Taking refugee in the same city where my father had once learnt all he knew about engineering. We didn’t take much from our house in Kabul, but I did manage to sneak Abu’s hammer with us, which I keep with me in my bedroom. The story of what happened in that shed only left my mouth once, and it was to my mother a few years back. She told me some things are never to be spoken of out loud, and I should just forget about what happened. How do I forget, though? How do I forget the evil entity that tried to trick me by disguising as my dead father? How do I forget the nightmares I had throughout my teenage years after that? And most importantly… How do I forget the reflection of Abu I often catch in our own flat screen at home every now and then…?