The novel follows years of tumultuous Afghani history through the story of a prominent Afghan family. The story spans the invasion and subsequent occupation of Afghanistan, the reign of the Taliban government, the hope of withdrawal and the bittersweet blessing of a shattered but free Afghanistan.
From valiantly fighting against Soviet Russia as part of the Afghan resistance movement, to ensuring the success of a vicious drug trade, this sweeping epic ensures a gripping climax and maintains the sincerity and compassion of a family saga.
Nadeem Akbar has written children's books for many years that have been used as part of the curriculum in several Pakistani schools. This is her first narrative. The author is fully able to convey the feelings and aspirations of fellow Afghans with candor and style being an Afghan herself. Her family migrated from Afghanistan in the nineteenth century.
Her success as an author has brought her readership from all walks of life. Positive reviews of her books can be seen in the literary section of the English newspaper, Dawn, which currently has the widest circulation within Pakistan.
Nadeem Akbar is from Lahore, Pakistan but currently lives in London, England with her husband.
Bilal was still in a state of confusion when suddenly he heard loud bangs, and a deafening sound of a tank shell. He looked around and saw that his classroom was hit by the shell and one section of it was burning. Thick smoke was everywhere and bright orange flames were flickering on the wooden desks and chairs in one corner of the room. Everybody was screaming now. In panic his classmates were trying to run out of the burning class room, but the only door that could let them out was a wooden door and it too had caught fire.
Children were panicking and Bilal was so shocked that he was rooted to his desk and could not move. Then to his horror he saw his best friend’s clothes catching fire and in no time that boy was engulfed in flames. Bilal was crying and the thick smoke was hurting his lungs. He could not breathe. In desperation he called for his mother, Bibi Gul.
“Mama! Mama!” And then blissful darkness engulfed him and there was no more pain for him to endure.
Allah-Yar was moved to tears with this show of love and respect from his tribe. He, in his gruff voice which had a hint of sadness, said. “Please do not do this to me.”
He picked up the turbans and put them on the tribal men’s heads.
“It is a hard time for me, I have just received the news of the death of my son-in-law and I do not know the fate of two of my grandchildren. On top of that you are saying that I should not take revenge from my enemies, but instead I should run and hide from them like a mouse.”
He could not say any more, as his voice was breaking with emotions.
“No! No sir, you are mistaken. Your whole tribe will take revenge from the invading infidels and traitors alike. But at the moment we are facing a formidable enemy. It can strike and wipe out the whole tribe.”
Iftakher said again“Sir! We have to organize and gather our strength. We have to discuss the ways of retaliation, and that will take time. We have news that these days they are looking for the old regime’s high-ranking officials. We know that they will come looking for you sir. If you are not here and nobody will tell them where you are, we will have time to find out who is with us and who is against us; then we will strike.”
Allah-Yar kept quiet. Iftakher waited for the reply but when the silence continued, he said again.
“This is not the time for emotioal thinking. Please listen to me sir".
"I will go, but do not make me wait any longer than a week." Allah-Yar agreed to leave his house.