Читать книгу 18 Stories on the Train - Алем Гулу оглу Кенгерли (Акперов) - Страница 5

It seemed to be an ordinary day, but for Safar, it was to be not quite an ordinary one and it became clear from the very morning. He woke up earlier than usual, went into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of yesterday’s tea, and plunged into his thoughts. When he came to Ukraine, encouraged by his childhood friend Kerim, he was a young, healthy and handsome guy. Years have passed since then. He has grown old. There was not a trace left of his former enthusiasm.

Lately, he has been thinking only about one thing: how will his future fate be? Previously, he could serve himself: pour some tea, cook a dinner, even wash his dirty laundry. Today he is not the same he was before. The years took away a lot from him, and most importantly, his youth. Worries and problems lay on his shoulders now. Longing for his homeland, concern over the future of his children born to Larisa…

He was confused.

The daughter Marina, after graduating from high school, left Kharkov for Kiev with her classmate Zakhar. And when the guy was drafted into the army, she went to live with Vadim, who was renting a room in a hostel. Her father's words, telling her that she should not do this and that it was a shame had no effect. The young couple was not married officially, but Marina gave birth to a daughter named Vera. The girl was already two years old. And his son Ilya lived with his parents. He was already 30 years old, but he didn't even think about getting married.

When Ilya was born, Safar was very happy that his firstborn was a boy. But when it was time to give the child a name, he and his wife had a disagreement, which upset him very much. Safar wanted to name his son Veli, which was his father's name. But Larisa began to object.

“What kind of name is that – Veli? I don’t like it.”

And she named the child Ilya. Although he was upset, Safar then thought that this name was somehow consonant with the name Ilyas, that reminded him of his late uncle. He began to console himself with this.

Ilya spent his free time drinking with friends. He led a carefree life of a single man and did not take his father's advice seriously. He changed many jobs due to not being serious about it. Although he loved his father, it was not part of his nature to take care of him. He did not even take care of himself, let alone his father. He slept and ate whenever he could and didn’t think about today or tomorrow. Often he would not come home. He stayed with his friends until late hours and slept wherever he could. Safar did not manage to raise his son the way he would have liked to, although he tried very hard. It looks like the environment and entourage in which the guy grew up played an important role in the formation of Ilya.

Now, in his declining years, Safar was full of problems. This is the law of life: in advanced age, a person often remembers the past years. He was haunted by the longing for his homeland and for his former family, which he once left in his homeland. He was tormented by an irrepressible desire to be close to his family and friends, with whom he parted through his own fault. At the same time, he could not find the strength to return to his homeland, although he was thinking about it day and night. A long time ago, he left his wife there with two young daughters for the care of his parents and left under the pretext of finding a job. He came to Kharkiv and never returned. He blamed himself: “I should not have left my family.” But at the same time, he knew that a late remorse was of no use and so he rushed about in despair.

His present condition was not an easy one. He was thinking about what he could say to his ex-wife, who raised two daughters with great difficulty, dressing them in rags left by relatives and neighbors and feeding her loved ones with leftovers. How will he introduce himself to his children, who did not know him by sight, and who, through his fault, grew up without knowing their father's affection? How will he look into the eyes of his old sick mother who raised him, serving in other people's homes, and who was waiting in vain for her ungrateful son? After all, she was pretty weak now and almost never got out of bed.

Will his conscience allow him to visit the grave of his father, who perished, having drowned himself in the sense of longing for his prodigal son?

Will he be able to stroke the gray hair and heal the wounds of his only sister Zuleikha, who raised him together with his mother?

He did not know that. He only knew that he could not live far from his homeland anymore. He felt abandoned and alone in a foreign land.

Lately, he has also suffered a lot from insomnia. Homesickness robbed him of sleep.

“Why didn't the curse of my daughters, abandoned to the mercy of fate, strike me?” he thought to himself and groaned. “I am getting along somehow, but what will I do in five years from now? After all, here people keep away from each other, they are indifferent to the problems of others. Maybe I should commit suicide and free everyone from me before becoming bedridden?” it occurred to him suddenly. And then immediately drove this thought away. “Where will I be buried if I die?

And what will happen next? Who will visit my grave?… God knows where they will bury me. Surely, my wife and children will drink after my funeral and will party a lot.”

Safar has been thinking about himself for hours. He thought: could it be that after death Allah would forgive him his sins and allow his prodigal soul to return to his home and rest in his native land? Over time, he became more and more convinced that he could not live in places where elders were not honored. What could he expect from strangers when your own children did not give a damn and could not care less about you?

Actually, homesickness haunted Safar for five years already. During these years, there was not a day that he did not think how to escape from suffering and live in peace. He was paying for his mistake that he committed in his youth. After much reflection, Safar came to the conclusion that today was the best day to make the final decision. He had to return to his homeland today. His wife Larisa was not at home. She was with Lyudmila, her friend. This came in handy.

He took a paper, a pen, and began writing a letter to his daughter Marina: “My dear Masha! I am leaving for my homeland. Forever. I feel that I don’t have much time left. It is better for me to die in my native land, among my loved ones. I wish you happiness. Try to save your family this time. Daughter, never change husbands like gloves. Nothing good will come of it. S. W. K. Your father!"

Then he went into the bedroom of Ilya, who was sleeping until late as usual, and called him:

“Wake up, son, it is late already.”

“What’s up dad, let me sleep a little,” Ilya murmured, rubbing his eyes.

“I have to tell you something. Get up, let's talk.”

“Early in the morning? Okay, let’s talk, I'm listening.”

“Ilya, my dear,” Safar began, getting one step closer to his son's bed. “You know how much I love you. I even wanted to give you my father's name, but your mother did not allow me to.”

The son felt melancholy in his father's voice, but even that did not move him.

“I know, dad. Now tell me what happened?” Ilya asked.

Safar kept silent for a while, trying to pull himself together. Finally, clearing his throat, he said:

“Son, I want to go back to my homeland, forever.” Ilya, who could not believe his ears, asked in perplexity:

“What did you just say?”

The father repeated what he had said earlier. Ilya could not resist asking: “At your age?”

Safar voiced his arguments as to why he suddenly made this decision, and at the end, he remarked:

“Son, I am old already. I feel my strength leaving me. I want to spend my last days in my homeland.” Ilya did not even think of arguing with his father. He agreed immediately.

“Look, dad. You know better. If you decided so, then so be it.” And then he asked:

“When are you thinking of leaving?”

Safar expected his son to be against his decision. He did not think that Ilya would agree so easily to part with him.

“Today… now…,” the father replied, upset.

“Does mom know?” the son asked.

“Not yet,” Safar answered and handed the paper to his son. “I want you to give this letter to Marina.”

Ilya got up and sat on the bed, taking the letter. “Okay dad, I will, don’t worry.”

He looked at the letter, then asked about the transport his father was going to use: if it was by plane or by train.

Safar answered:

“I don’t care. The main thing is to leave.”

Safar contemplated the upcoming conversation with his wife, as the son got out of bed and said: “Dad, I'll walk you to the door.”

He had not yet started his journey, but already he felt a sense of relief. As if a mountain had fallen off his shoulders. After all, he was going to end many years of melancholy and find himself in his native land. Making a decision is a step to success.

At the moment, he was even glad that his son agreed so quickly with his decision. The last thing he needed now was his son opposing what had already been decided on, standing in his way and saying: “I will not let you go anywhere.”

He smiled. The anxiety of the last days vanished as if by magic. He no longer worried about where and how he would live in his homeland. He didn't even think of looking for answers to the different questions. He could only think of one thing: he wanted to arrive to his homeland as soon as possible. He recalled an episode from a book that he had read in his youth, and which had haunted him for a long time. The book read something like this: after the shah listened to the song performed by a young singer taken as a prisoner, he realized that his mournful singing was caused by longing for his homeland, and said to him: you left your soul in those places.

He knew that this was something from the work of the writer Elcin, but from which one?… he could not remember. “This is it,” Safar thought to himself and smiled.

Now he himself was in the state of the hero of that episode.

* * *

He got off the train at the Baku station. Full ofjoy, he looked around and took a deep breath. Then he sat down on a bench nearby and thought. It was beginning to get dark. At this moment, a hand lay on his shoulder:

“Safar?!”

He turned around and tried to remember the person with a familiar face. Even if he didn't remember, at that moment he became one hundred percent convinced that he did the right thing to have returned to his homeland. A person would never get in trouble at home. There will always be someone you know, some relative, even a stranger who will reach out to you and help.