The Pearl that Broke Its Shell A Novel by Nadia Hashimi

Author:Nadia Hashimi
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Family Life, Contemporary Women, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780062244758
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 32

Shekib waited for the right time. Mahbuba was rarely alone but she was the right person, Shekib had decided. She had borne the king four sons.

The first stage of Shekib’s plan was to find out what Mahbuba had done right. How was it that she came to have four sons while other women continued to bring girls? There must have been something she had done differently to not have a single girl in her brood.

Her boys ranged in age from one to seven years old. When Shekib came upon them, Mahbuba was bathing her youngest son. Her eyes searched for a towel, while the older boys ran off to play.

“Thank you! I thought I had something here with me,” she said as Shekib handed her a cloth from a nearby shelf. Mahbuba held Saboor’s hand as she dried him off.

“Certainly,” Shekib mumbled. She had made a point of being quietly helpful with the king’s consorts. It was unlike her to start a conversation but she forced herself to speak the lines she had rehearsed.

“You have lovely sons.”

“Thank Allah, they are blessings,” she said, sighing. The boy was wiggling to escape his mother’s grip. His eyes chased after his brothers.

“The others have daughters. Mostly. You are lucky.”

“Yes, well, some of us are blessed with sons and others have to bear daughters.”

“You have made the king very happy.”

It dawned on Mahbuba that this conversation was peculiar. She turned around to see who she was talking to.

“Oh, you! What is your name?”

“Shekib.” She looked at Mahbuba straight on. The women of the harem had made her quite comfortable in the last few weeks. They were too busy picking each other apart to pay attention to the woman-man guard with the melted face. Shekib no longer missed being able to pull her head scarf over her cheek. She found it liberating to walk about, her hands in her pockets and the sun on her face.

“Right. Shekib. Let me ask you something. What’s your real name, my dear? Your girl name?”

Shekib fidgeted. Mahbuba had surprised her.

“My name is Shekiba.”

“Clever. Bet that was Ghafoor’s idea. Do you and the others get along well enough with her? She can be such a nuisance.”

“Sure,” Shekib said vaguely.

“It’s so ridiculous that they have you wearing those uniforms. As if anyone would forget that you are not men. As if we need guards anyway. What we need are more servants to help us with the children. But that would offend the king’s sense of security.”

“Some people forget.”

“Forget that you’re women? Do you really think so?” Mahbuba was struggling to dress her son. He scratched at his mother’s face in angry protest. She turned him around and locked him between her knees. He looked at Shekib with a defeated pout.

“How did you make it so… how did you manage to have boys?”

“What?”

“I want to know how you managed to have all boys. What did you do?”

Mahbuba laughed naughtily. “Do you want me to start with the basics? You are dressed as a man but know nothing about their parts, eh?”

Shekib blushed.

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