Читать книгу O’TKAN KUNLAR - Абдулла Кодирий - Страница 16

Hasan Ali grew delirious from the night’s great fortune, and his old eyes drooped from fatigue. He counted the ways to present the pending betrothal to Bek, dreaming about how he would welcome the news. He felt in his heart that Otabek’s whole view of life and the world would change for the better. A vision danced before his eyes of Otabek revitalized by his announcement; the same man who sequestered himself alone in his room for weeks would now walk through the streets, through the bazaars, to Qutidor’s house, happy and excited.

After entertaining these thoughts, his eyes grew even wearier and once again he saw Otabek before him, exclaiming, “Father, I will never forget what good deeds you have done for me” and thanking him profusely.

Hasan Ali woke a second time from his fantastic musings and began to think: “Poor wretch, you must be mooning over your beloved. Perhaps you are suffering from a headache, lying there breathless, not knowing whom to call to soothe your complaints. Your hopes have been cut short because you think you have no allies. Worry not, my young master. Your father Hasan Ali has not forsaken you in this matter. Tonight will be the end of your sad evenings and the beginning of nights filled with light and poetry, my dear master.”

Yet again Hasan Ali was easing into sleep as images swam before his eyes, images of Otabek and a charming, beautiful girl— both of them smiling at Hasan Ali as if they were saying, “You are our true father.” Still sleepless, Hasan Ali muttered to himself, “I am turning sixty-four and could not have children. I will leave this world without progeny. Why shouldn’t Otabek be my son, and his wife my daughter, with their children running after me, calling me Grandpa? When I lie under the earth, forgotten by the world, it would be enough if they remembered me with the kind words ‘There once was a time when we had a grandfather named Hasan Ali.’ ”

The night had long since turned into morning, yet he could not keep himself from imagining Otabek’s happiness. These thoughts kept him from sleep. The time had come to deliver Otabek into a life of contentment.

After tea, Hasan Ali left his room, went to their common area, and sat down in front of Bek with a package under his arm. Hasan Ali wanted to weed out his melancholia, plant seeds of hope, and water them with affection.

“Now, congratulations,” he said.

Otabek looked at Hasan Ali, confused. Smiling, Hasan Ali took out from under his arm a gilded robe, placing it on the sandal.

“What sort of robe is this?” asked Bek. “Congratulations, I said.” “Congratulations for what?”

“Congratulations on your pure and beloved fiancée, not to mention a father-in-law of the likes of Qutidor. Hasan Ali now has a daughter- in-law.”

A striking transformation overtook Otabek: he was struck dumb, and his eyes widened, bulging out of their sockets. Sitting contorted in an unnatural pose and greatly agitated, he asked, “What do you mean by these words?”

“Do not question the good news I have brought you. Just believe what I say,” said Hasan Ali, laughing. “Ziyo Shohichi and I decided to marry you to the daughter of Qutidor and carried out our decision last night. I mean simply that I engaged you to the daughter of Qutidor.”

Losing control, Otabek asked quickly, “To which of his daughters did you betroth me?”

“To the one and only daughter of Qutidor,” said Hasan Ali. “Don’t worry. Ziyo Shohichi said that Qutidor will visit after tea. We are going to finalize the details of the wedding with him.”

It was hard to discern whether Otabek was happy or upset. He showed no sign of either refusing or accepting this engagement…

Kumush encountered an extraordinary situation as if she had just awoken from a dream: it seemed everybody had had the same vision of a wedding the night before. They were all talking about buying new feather pillows and were even discussing at length the groom’s clothing. Oftob Oyim was ordering her husband to buy a new gold belt for the groom… There is no other way to say it than “Good heavens! Who is the groom Oftob Oyim refers to so openly? Whose daughter is going to be married? Are there other daughters besides Kumush Bibi?” They only have one daughter… therefore Kumush is going to be married.

All these discussions defied comprehension.

“Who is going to be married?” she asked everyone. “Kumush.”

“Does Kumush like her groom or not? Is it necessary to know her opinion or not?”

“It is not necessary to discuss this with her.” “Why?”

“It is tradition! Kumush must be married to a man suitable to her parents,” declared Toibeka.

After Toibeka’s explanation, Kumush found out about the groom. “Listen to me, my lady,” said Toibeka, laughing. “Don’t ignore your aunt Toibeka. She has miraculous powers. If your aunt takes something to her heart, the angels will at once command ‘Amen.’ The other day I told you about a young guest. You became upset. From this day forward, you are engaged to that same man. Now because of that you must bless and trust me with your secrets!”

On hearing this news, Kumush’s black eyes filled, drenching her eyelashes with tears.

“Don’t cry, my mistress,” said Toibeka. “We know the source of these tears. Where men laugh from happiness, girls like you cry. You are crying from joy… I also cried when I became engaged, but in my heart I waited impatiently for the wedding day…”

“My patience is finished, Aunt!” said Kumush. “Do not say another word.”

“I will say no more,” said Toibeka, “but I will say this truthfully: Oh, if only you had seen that groom. You would truly know, my lady, how handsome and clever he is. Your stars are closely aligned. You are perfect for each other.”

Kumush could not stand it anymore and cried out in a pained voice, “Ah, don’t say another word. I will die!”

Hearing Kumush’s angry shouts, Oftob Oyim and her mother, Oysha Bibi, ran out of the house.

“What happened? What’s the matter?”

Kumush covered her head under the blanket of the sandal and lay down. Toibeka, fearing a sticky predicament with the ladies of the household, told them, “I was only describing her future husband. She became angry with me.”

Oftob Oyim berated Toibeka, “You are an imbecile. You embarrassed Kumush! Nobody will punish you if you leave well enough alone. Go do your work!”

The older women interpreted Kumush’s tears as simple shyness and went back into their room, rummaging again through the contents of a chest and continuing with their wedding preparations. Kumush lay still for several moments, her head under the blanket and her eyes wide open. Then, finally, she got up and went over to the men’s part of the yard. Her eyes were red and her eyelids swollen after a long cry; her face was puffy. But these changes didn’t lessen her charms, or her grace; on the contrary, they made her ten times more beautiful. She sat down at the edge of the veranda, putting her face in her right hand, and lost herself in her private thoughts – long minutes spent remembering, contemplating, dreaming. She finally freed her hand from her face, eagerly taking a breath, and as if waiting for somebody, glanced around…

“The bank of the stream, the mystical bank of the stream…”

Her tears fell freely and her delicate legs tiptoed toward the water’s edge. When she reached the embankment, she jumped to a dry patch, crouching down in a place that will soon be known to us. Taking some water in her hands, she washed her face and slowly looked toward the passage, then back at the water. Nobody knew Kumush’s pain, nobody could know what she dreamed about, only this stream knew her secrets… The spirit of the water was speaking to her, was listening to her heart, but nobody but Kumush could know their private deliberations. She washed the pearls from her eyes with the transcendental water, not once, but again and again. Her emotions soothed, redness leaving her eyes, she walked slowly back inside the Ich Kari.