If Not Love

Winter day
Smoke-filled village
Tandoor walls are still warm
Chill wind from the mountains
Two lovers embrace

There is a commotion at the village. Early morning, ranks of angry partisans are gathered at the house of Qadir Mazloum. He has been a humble shepherd all his life. He doesn't know much, and he doesn't ask for much. He lives in a stone house with a mud roof, he is pleased with his way of life, and he always talks about gratitude towards God for what he has been given.

He has only one daughter, Zara. Her mother died in childbirth, and he raised her on his own. Zara is a witty girl, ever curious, and the troublemaker of their village. She loves to tend to the sheep, going every day with the women of the village to milk them twice, while taking provisions for her dad.

Zara's beauty is well known. Now that she is of age, suitors are abundant. Her father gets proposals from as far as five villages away, and many from the city. Qadir, the ever-caring father, isn't ready to give away her hand in marriage so easily.

"I insist that I have to get my daughter's agreement first," he says when the suitors start pressuring him.

"She must marry who she loves," he counters, as the suitors keep sending wave after wave of men to negotiate the proposal.

The partisans are not happy. Some are sitting in the main room, while others are outside, patrolling in pairs. Their clothes are khaki and dusty, and smell of sulfur. Combat ready, their guns always within hand's reach, they keep their gaze locked onto the horizon, looking out for any suspicious movements or people.

Some of them have been fighting the central government for seven years now, since the start of the revolution. Fighting for what they believe are their rights and freedoms as an ethnic and religious minority in the newly established country. The central government used an iron fist to crack down on the people when the civic demands were raised during the early days of the revolution. Ever since the massacres of Qrnaqa and Pshtashan by the government forces, people started joining the armed resistance group in droves. Support for the group is high among the people of the region, in particular in more rural areas, where abject poverty and neglect by the government are the reality of everyday life.

People see the resistance fighters as heroes, warriors who seek revenge for the wrongdoing the government inflicts upon them. They call them "sons of lions" to recognize their bravery. The only defenders of their home. Hence, when a band of partisans enters a village, people take pride in hosting them and are mostly happy to give what they have to the cause; it's an honor to have them as guests.

Territories controlled by the rebels are administered by a committee, selected by the central committee of the party. At the top, the responsibilities are split between a military commander and a civic administrator. They are on equal footing, and they usually stay away from matters that don't concern their posts. If one of them is absent, the other takes complete responsibility temporarily, until the first returns or is replaced.

The room is getting crowded. It's late in the morning. The civic administrator, Mustafa, is with the partisans, sitting on the upper side of the room. Qadir is sitting solemnly near the doorway on the lower side of the room, listening to their arguments.

"We cannot allow such a thing to happen," says Mustafa. "He is an enemy officer. He cannot be trusted. He has fooled your daughter with sweet words and promises of life in the capital. If you allow this, it will bring great shame to you and to the village."

Another shouts, "I will kill that bastard with my own hands if I have to!"

Qadir is silent, gazing down at the floor, resting his head on his palm.

Zara is on the brink of collapse, but she is keeping herself together proudly, serving tea to the men, as tradition demands for guests. She is being denied her choice, and she continues to serve tea. She has done the unthinkable. She is in love. Fallen for the enemy.

They say that the local enemy officer was young and good-looking. They say he usually didn't bother the local population, and when he came in contact with them, he tried to converse with the villagers; they even say he knew how to speak a few basic words of their language. It must have been on one of these visits that the two poor souls met. They had been seeing each other secretly for a while. It is not clear who was the first to spot them together on their tryst, but the news soon spread, and it wasn't long before it reached the rebels' civic administrator.

The partisans' local military commander, Omer, was on patrol that early morning. When he arrives back at the camp, he hears about the commotion from one of his trusted companions. After he is filled in on the details, he thanks him.

"I must go there and see what this is all about myself," he says, with a stern yet displeased look.

Then, without rest, in full gear, he marches down to the village, his rifle slung over his back, contemplating what he has just heard.

It's high noon. The room is full of partisans, sitting all along the walls, forming a rectangle with the only gap being the door. The room is disorienting from the noise of them arguing about the fate of Zara. The room is now filled with cigarette smoke. There is now an unpleasant heat in the room. Qadir is sitting by the door, silent, head resting on his palm. Zara goes back to brew more tea.

Omer enters the room. He moves to the center of the room. The noise stops. They all look up at him. He looks directly at Mustafa and asks, "What is going on here?"

"It seems the girl of this house wants to marry an enemy officer, and we are here to persuade them not to go on with this," says Mustafa. "As a representative of the party, I forbid this marriage from happening. You must understand the implications if we let this happen. The girl is young and foolish. So please, help me bring some sense back to Mr. Qadir here."

Omer listens attentively. After a pause, he says calmly, "Bring the girl here. I want to ask her a question."

Her father calls her over. "Zara, my dear, please come here."

Zara, pale as the moon, fearful but determined, stands in front of Omer. "Yes, sir."

"Do you love him?" Omer asks.

With eyes full of tears, she finally breaks down crying. "Yes... Yes! I love him!"

"And do you want to marry him?"

"Yes, I do!"

"Then this marriage must happen! And if anyone opposes it, they will have to deal with me first."

It is as if a hand grenade has exploded in the room. Some immediately start showing their disagreement, and some keep it to themselves.

"This cannot be!"

"Please, you must understand..."

"You should be ashamed of yourselves for coming between two lovers! Who are you? If not love, then what are we fighting for?" Omer tells them.

Mustafa tries to plead with him, but he can't convince him to stop the wedding. He too starts to doubt whether it is appropriate for them to show such opposition to this love affair. Soon many, like Mustafa, realize their hubris too.

Now it's dusk, and the sun has set. Finally, a compromise is reached: the lovers are allowed to marry, but they cannot stay in the village. They must leave the region, her homeland, and never return.

Qadir, finally realizing the commotion is over and they are once again free to live their lives, jumps towards Omer and hugs him tightly.

"I am your servant! Thank God for you!" he cries out, tears of joy flowing down his face.

Shortly after, the partisans disband and leave the family to arrange the wedding and the farewells. Later, a message is sent to the officer at his post about the agreement: the lovers can finally be together freely, even though they have to pay for this freedom.

Two lovers embrace.

They say that Zara and the officer left for the capital, got married, and had three kids. We know this because the officer, Arash, still occasionally writes letters to Omer, thanking him for what he did that fateful day.