Nowruz, which means "new day," marks the joyous arrival of spring, coinciding precisely with the vernal equinox. On this day, the Earth's tilt brings equal measures of daylight and darkness, symbolizing a fresh start. Celebrated across Afghanistan, Iran, and Central Asia, Nowruz signifies a time of balance after the winter's chill. A traditional greeting embodies this spirit: "May your every day be like Nowruz, and may your Nowruz be victorious." The exact origin of this greeting remains unclear. However, Nowruz itself has persevered through centuries.

Nowruz, which means "new day," marks the joyous arrival of spring, coinciding precisely with the vernal equinox.

It is in northern Afghanistan that Nowruz was celebrated more vibrantly than anywhere else. If you travelled a bit further from the city hustle and closer to the villages and valleys, you'd experience a different Nowroz and spring. That can be seen in our rural area. A group of young girls would dedicate a week to collecting food supplies from houses. I was eight years old the first time I witnessed the organization of "mela Nowruz" [the word mela is derived from Sanskrit meaning festival or fair].

Happy memories of Nowruz from my childhood

My mother was doing laundry, my aunt was cleaning vegetables, and we children were busy playing, when a group of young girls wearing blue scarves suddenly entered our house. They exuded an air of beauty and joy. They asked something of my mother, who stopped doing the laundry and went to the kitchen. The girls had baskets and sacks with them. My mother handed them a basket full of oil and 10 kilograms of rice. Then, laughing and joyous, they left our house.

When Nowroz finally arrived, we went to the mela with my mother, grandmother, and aunts. All the girls in the prime of their youth were wearing beautiful clothes in the newest designs, such as wide and large trousers and a loose-fitting coat with equally large sleeves, all in the same colour. One outfit was in red, another green, one purple, and another in a cream colour. Many women were sitting on the front porch in a circle. Music was playing from an old music player, and the girls took turns dancing. They asked my aunt to dance, too. I saw many beautiful women.

The gathering was in a large garden belonging to the father of one of our teachers. She was also present, and, while dancing, told us, "Even your teacher dances."

One outfit was in red, another green, one purple, and another in a cream colour. Many women were sitting on the front porch in a circle. Music was playing from an old music player, and the girls took turns dancing. They asked my aunt to dance, too. I saw many beautiful women.

Some women were busy cooking and preparing food. Several large pots were placed in the middle of the garden, and one contained samanak [germinated wheat]. They sang the samanak song by playing the daira [a hand drum common in the region].

After eating lunch with bread, everyone headed toward a hill behind the garden. Some women had thermoses of tea, and others had more food to eat when they reached the top of the hill surrounded by greenery. That part of the celebration was called "Sabza'lagad" [grasswalking].

I didn't understand the philosophy of walking on grass, but all the girls and women were heading towards the hill. The soil under the greenery had been trampled, making it soft and beautiful for walking and sitting. The girls were laughing and enjoying themselves with their peers. The children were sitting in one place, and the girls were freely wandering around the hill and greenery, breathing in the fresh air and perhaps expressing gratitude to nature for spring and greenery.

After eating lunch with bread, everyone headed toward a hill behind the garden. Some women had thermoses of tea, and others had more food to eat when they reached the top of the hill surrounded by greenery. That part of the celebration was called "Sabza'lagad" [grasswalking]

Among the women, there was a gorgeous woman. She had styled her hair in a masculine way — instead of long locks, her hair was short and cropped. That woman was accompanied by a group of elderly women, and she made them laugh. It was the first time I saw one old woman joking instead of advising, cursing, or praying.

The first Nowruz after the Taliban's return to power

Twenty years have passed since this story. We had many Nowruz celebrations, but they decreased after the onset of Taliban wars and the weakening government. We marked the first Nowruz after the Taliban's return to power without the usual celebrations. At that time, the universities were not yet closed to women, and the university entrance exam results had been released. Many girls had been accepted into universities, which was a reason for hope and happiness. Women and girls were not yet tired or suffocated from the closure of parks and the absence of public Nowruz celebrations, including grasswalking.

I spent the second Nowruz at home. The universities were closed. Schools were already closed. Parks and all recreational places were officially off limits to women. I was alone at home all day. My husband was at work. The house was dark. There was no electricity. My husband came home in the evening and said, "Let's go out." I asked, "Where?" He said, "One of the parks allows families." We both went with our daughter, as indeed one park allowed us to enter. Many families were walking around.

I spent the second Nowruz at home. The universities were closed. Schools were already closed. Parks and all recreational places were officially off limits to women. I was alone at home all day. My husband was at work. The house was dark. There was no electricity.

We walked between two tree rows when I decided that we should mark the day with a picture. Just as my daughter and I had entered the camera frame of my husband's phone, we heard a man yell loudly, "Shameless! Dishonorable!" We didn't realize we were the target of those slurs. The man, who had a potbelly and terrifying eyes, came closer and pushed us out of the park uttering violent and obscene words. We left.

I concluded that Nowruz isn't always victorious. Some people dominate Nowruz and the smell of spring, not allowing others to breathe the scent of grass and trees.

There is no sense of victory to this third Nawroz. The Taliban have forbidden any celebration of Nowruz. As a woman, I am doubly banned from going grasswalking and organizing a Nowruz mela with other women. Any action on my part that violates the Taliban rules would have terrifying consequences for me. A housewife is not supposed to endanger her life; she is to work in the kitchen and care for the children.

Just as my daughter and I had entered the camera frame of my husband's phone, we heard a man yell loudly, "Shameless! Dishonorable!" We didn't realize we were the target of those slurs. The man, who had a potbelly and terrifying eyes, came closer and pushed us out of the park uttering violent and obscene words.

I stare out from behind the walls and a black veil. I don't smell the scent of trees, but my soul is filled with springs and tulip fields. No regime can block the path of my free soul. My soul and mind are mingled in the Dasht-e Shadian [fields of joy], beside the Amu River and Kokcha, with the tall hills behind that large garden, the jokes of that old woman, and the short-haired beautiful woman.

I don't know who I owe this freedom to, but surely, the soul of a human in love with freedom, liberation, spring, and Nowruz is living in me. May our Norwuz also be victorious one day!

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