CHAPTER 32. SHEKIB
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. “I mean… no, that’s not what I meant. I was asking how… the other women have girls. How did you manage to have boys instead of girls?” she stammered.
“Do you think you are the first to ask me such a question? Most of the women in this house have come to me looking for that very answer. I have borne the king more sons than any other woman!” Mahbuba needed a minute to sing her own praises. Shekib waited. “I have given him son after son and nothing but sons! That is why he looks at me with fire in his eyes, with respect in his heart. You are a wise girl-boy. You are looking for the key to a satisfied man.”
The humidity of the bathhouse made Shekib’s breaths heavy. She wondered if Mahbuba would ever reveal her secret. Maybe this had been a mistake.
“But tell me. Why are you asking such a question? You are a man now, are you not? Are you to be turned back into a woman? Are you to be married?”
Shekib shook her head.
“I did not think so. Then why bother to ask for answers you have no business using? Did someone send you to ask me this? Who was it? Was it Shokria? I’ve seen the way she looks at my boys. Five girls, she has. Can you imagine? That witch. I’ll fix her if she casts a jealous eye on my sons!”
“No, no one sent me!” Shekib panicked. She did not want to cause any fuss among the women. If it led back to her, it would not help her situation.
“Farida? She’s another one with her devil eyes… can’t be trusted. You shouldn’t go about the harem doing their dirty work for them!” Her son had managed to finally twist himself free. Mahbuba sighed. He was missing one sock.
“Forgive me, I have not been sent by anyone. I was… I was just asking out of my own curiosity.”
“Are you wanted by a man?”
“Am I… no, I just—” Shekib decided she should close this conversation.
“I am teasing you. I will tell you a few tricks if you promise—” Mahbuba paused and looked from left to right dramatically. Her voice turned into a hush. “If you promise that you will not share these secrets with anyone else. You can use them if you find yourself under a man one day and in the mood to give him a son.”
Shekib squatted next to Mahbuba, her ears hot.
Some of what she was told, she never would have anticipated. And would never have been able to repeat.
But she committed the tips to memory, hoping that they might prove useful. The shape of the moon, the seeds of the yellow flowered plant, the juice of an apple with no brown spots. These were simpler. But the other things, the things with the man, these made Shekib wonder if Mahbuba was not looking to make a fool out of her. But there had been no glimmer of trickery in her eye. She spoke casually, as if the things she talked about were commonplace and ordinary. To Mahbuba they were. To Shekib, they were not.
Did the women really allow the king to do such things? She thought of Halima and could not imagine it. Then she thought of Sakina, the way she had walked, half-naked, to the king’s chamber and knocked on the door with feigned timidity. It could be true.
She could not stop her mind from drifting to Amanullah, the governor of Kabul. She thought of the way he walked, the confidence of his step, his fingers grazing the petals with delicate respect. She wondered what it would be like to be near him, to feel his breath on her face, moist and warm like the air of the harem’s bath room. She thought of her fingers tracing the borders of his neatly trimmed beard and the medals of his uniform pressing against her unfettered bosom.
Shekib shook her head and hoped her face did not betray her thoughts.
At night, the guards slept in a room just outside the concubines’ quarters. They took turns standing guard. Tonight was Shekib’s turn. Kabul’s air was brisk but she did not mind it. She wrapped her coat tighter around her and rubbed her hands together. She thought back to her first night on duty, a night she spent standing at attention, terrified that someone would find her asleep or sneak up on her. By morning she had drawn her weapon, a heavy baton, a half dozen times, only to frighten the frog who had wandered too far from the pond. She nearly collapsed when Ghafoor came to ask her how her night had gone.
“Why are there so many noises at night? There are frogs and lizards and soldiers coughing and pacing! You said I should just stand in the quiet night until morning. It wasn’t a quiet night at all!”
Ghafoor had laughed uncontrollably. Two soldiers had turned, their brows furrowed in disapproval to hear a woman laugh so loudly, even if it was a woman-man.
“Did the frogs shake you up? Well, little girl from the village, I didn’t think a few little night critters would make you so nervous!”