By Zohal Azad
All around the world, February 14 is celebrated as the festival of love. But in Afghanistan, it has become a day of fear since the Taliban began their hardline rule of the country.
Today, Kabul is no longer a city where red roses adorn flower shop windows on the eve of Valentine’s Day, and cafés are filled with lovers. Now, even saying a simple “I love you” can get you into trouble.
The Taliban oppose the celebration of occasions like Valentine’s Day. Although there’s no formal ban, people have reportedly been stopped from marking the day.
Any romantic relationship outside marriage is now considered a crime and forbidden under Taliban rule. Reports abound of Afghans being publicly flogged as a punishment for “illicit relationships” outside of marriage.
But behind half-closed shop doors and in private social media messages, efforts are underway to keep this celebration alive. In Kabul today, Valentine’s Day no longer carries the same excitement and noise; instead, it finds meaning in small, hidden gestures.
Tamanna, a 27-year-old woman living in Kabul, says she ordered a Valentine’s gift for her boyfriend online this year. “Three days before Valentine’s Day, I messaged a flower shop whose WhatsApp number I had. They said they would deliver the package to any address on whichever day I wanted,” she said.
Living under the shadow of a group that considers contact with the opposite sex an unforgivable sin is, she says, not just difficult, it is terrifying. Still, she believes that “no one can take away loving and being loved from anyone.”
On February 14 last year Tamanna’s boyfriend, who does not wish to reveal his name, showed up at the clinic where she works on the pretext of having a stomach ache, just so he could spend time with her.
“I stayed at the clinic all day. When she finished work, we walked together through quiet alleys until we reached her home,” he said. “Whenever I miss her, I find an excuse to see her. In empty alleys, I hold her hand and kiss it. In a city where fear rains down from every corner, love is our only consolation.”
In Kabul, many cafés and restaurants have been divided into separate sections for men and women. The morality police constantly patrol the city, and on Valentine’s Day, these patrols intensify. Despite all the restrictions, Tamanna and her boyfriend still search for moments to be together—even if those moments must be hidden and fleeting.
Jalil, 29, avoids February 14 itself because of the heightened scrutiny from authorities, but gives the object of his love a gift a day before or after.
“In the past, we could go to a restaurant or take a walk, but now we’re too afraid even to think about it,” he said. “If I want to give a gift, we arrange to meet in a quiet alley where the Taliban presence is less, and we just walk for a few minutes.”
He adds, “It’s not just the Taliban; people have also become very sensitive. We’re afraid someone might see us and report us.”
Zarghoona, 26, who also lives in Kabul, has always considered Valentine’s Day special. Last year, she celebrated with her boyfriend at a friend’s house. This year, she’s ordered cake and gifts online. “It may sound funny, but we live in a place where loving is considered shameful and expressing love is treated as a crime,” she said.
Even now, there are people brave enough to express their feelings in public. They walk hand in hand in the streets and behave as though they are not under scrutiny.
“Feelings are not something you can hide or be ashamed of,” said Shabir, 28, who regularly walks hand in hand with his fiancée through Kabul’s streets, but who admits he has had bad experiences.
A few nights ago, he said, he was reciting poetry to his beloved as they walked home from work, when they were stopped by a Taliban official. The man slapped him in the face, breaking his glasses and demanded, “are you trying to start a democracy?”.
“That slap made me more determined,” said Shabir. “For Valentine’s Day, we plan to eat out, and I’ll buy her a gift.”
In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, Kabul’s shopkeepers also face their own challenges. They are forced to find discreet ways to deliver gifts to their customers.
“This year most orders have been online,” said Ahmadwali, 39, a shopkeeper in Kabul. “Customers want to receive gifts in places away from prying eyes—quiet alleys or behind closed doors. These days are hard for us too, but we want young people to be happy.”
Ahmadwali, who started his online business a year ago, reports receiving dozens of orders in the week before Valentine’s Day and says he has scheduled many of them on the days before or after February 14.
One florist in Kabul told Rukhshana Media Valentine’s Day has always been a peak time, but now he delivers orders by bicycle. “After these restrictions, work has become difficult, but we have to find a way,” he said.
Another said he prepares orders in the back of his shop and only brings them out when customers come. “What can we do? We have to work out of the Taliban’s sight,” he said.
