Afsoon encountered the sensation of takaan interestingly on 15 August 2021.That Sunday she woke at 10:00 to a call from an associate at the beauty parlor where she worked. Afsoon was at her most joyful there, the smell of new cleanser and nail clean blended in with the hum of a hairdryer and prattle.
“Try not to come in today,” Afsoon’s collaborator disclosed to her when she rang. “We are quitting for the day. It’s finished.”
Sitting up in bed, Afsoon actually look at her portable. Her thumb went here and there the screen of her telephone as she looked through many messages from loved ones and afterward many online media posts. A deluge of fear hammered her with such power that she felt freezing cold and debilitated simultaneously.
The messages were no different either way. The Taliban had entered Afghanistan’s capital Kabul. Inside 16 days Western soldiers and their negotiators were gone from the country.
“It’s finished,” she rehashed to herself. The time had come to stow away.
Afsoon is in her mid-20s and sees herself as an advanced Afghan lady.
She adores online media, she cherishes motion pictures, she can drive and she has profession aspirations.
Afsoon can’t recollect the time during the 90s, the decade she was conceived, when the Taliban originally restricted beauty parlors in her country.
Yet, she experienced childhood in an Afghanistan where salons were an ordinary piece of her life. In the twenty years since the US-drove intrusion that removed the Taliban in 2001, in excess of 200 salons opened in Kabul alone, with hundreds more in different pieces of the country.
As a young person she would browse magazines and web-based media for exciting looks, and she’d visit salons with ladies in her family.
She adored everything concerning that world. The multi-hued nail painting, the make-up craftsmen twisted around ladies to paint smoky kohl eyeliners to outline thick brushed eyelashes on a dewy shining made-up face. The gleaming blow-dries and swishy long hairdos.
At last Afsoon satisfied her fantasy about working in one of them as a fruitful make-up craftsman. There was nothing else she’d needed.
Like all salons in Kabul, Afsoon’s salon had windows that were completely covered with banners of exciting and exquisite ladies promoting a guarantee of magnificence that could be yours inside.
The banners implied a bystander in the hot, male-ruled roads of Kabul couldn’t see inside the serene and multi-generational female space of Afsoon’s salon.
At any one time there would be in excess of twelve ladies inside, be it the beauticians or the client base – who shifted from specialists to writers, from vocalists and TV stars to ladies preparing for their huge day and adolescent young ladies snickering with their moms on a unique holding day out.
