War widows and orphaned children still beg in the streets, dangerously close to the teeming traffic, and no amount of reconstruction can bring back an old man’s dead sons or a nomad child’s sightless eyes.
But life is returning to this city of 3-5 million people. Lively markets and traffic jams fill the avenues under the parched mountains. Brick factories fires are burning around the clock to meet demands for new houses. Children are returning to school and in 2004 women were allowed to vote for the very first time, in the country’s first democratic election. Instead of the severed limbs of thieves, there are now photographers in front of the mosques. Afghans are again savouring the joys of all that was banned by the black-turbaned religious police: taking pictures, eating out and weddings with dancing and singing.
Since the fall of the Taliban regime in late 2001, the Afghan capital Kabul has seen many changes. The scars left by the radical Islamic regime are still visible and will linger for a long time to come but in the space of just three years Afghans have started rebuilding their shattered lives.
War widows and orphaned children still beg in the streets, dangerously close to the teeming traffic, and no amount of reconstruction can bring back an old man’s dead sons or a nomad child’s sightless eyes.
But life is returning to this city of 3-5 million people. Lively markets and traffic jams fill the avenues under the parched mountains. Brick factories fires are burning around the clock to meet demands for new houses. Children are returning to school and in 2004 women were allowed to vote for the very first time, in the country’s first democratic election. Instead of the severed limbs of thieves, there are now photographers in front of the mosques. Afghans are again savouring the joys of all that was banned by the black-turbaned religious police: taking pictures, eating out and weddings with dancing and singing.
Since the fall of the Taliban regime in late 2001, the Afghan capital Kabul has seen many changes. The scars left by the radical Islamic regime are still visible and will linger for a long time to come but in the space of just three years Afghans have started rebuilding their shattered lives.
War widows and orphaned children still beg in the streets, dangerously close to the teeming traffic, and no amount of reconstruction can bring back an old man’s dead sons or a nomad child’s sightless eyes.
But life is returning to this city of 3-5 million people. Lively markets and traffic jams fill the avenues under the parched mountains. Brick factories fires are burning around the clock to meet demands for new houses. Children are returning to school and in 2004 women were allowed to vote for the very first time, in the country’s first democratic election. Instead of the severed limbs of thieves, there are now photographers in front of the mosques. Afghans are again savouring the joys of all that was banned by the black-turbaned religious police: taking pictures, eating out and weddings with dancing and singing.
Since decades in Afghanistan, it is celebrated with community gatherings and special meals. During Taliban regime, Nowroz celebration was banned in most of the country as it was considered as un-Islamic.
Nowroz, new day or New Year as the Iranians call it, is a celebration of spring Equinox on March, 21st. It has been celebrated by all the major cultures of ancient Mesopotamia. Sumerians, in Southern Persia, and Central Asia. Nowroz has been celebrated for at least 3000 years and is deeply rooted in the traditions of Zoroastrian belief system.
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