Читать книгу 18 Stories on the Train - Алем Гулу оглу Кенгерли (Акперов) - Страница 7

It was the last Friday of December. The residents of the five-story building were sitting in a self-built room arranged in the courtyard for various events and domino playing. People were waiting for their turn. It was very noisy. The losing pair left the game, giving way to another one. When someone made a wrong move, a clamor was heard. As a result of the squabble, the pieces of domino flew to the floor with such force that the noise from it could be heard in the nearest apartments. Everyone was equal here. No one was superior to any other. It could be a teacher, a scientist, even a simple worker – everyone was called “a neighbor.” They were united by the game of dominoes. In principle, they were not bad neighbors. They shared both their troubles and their joys, they helped each other.

It was hot in the room, even though it was December. A wooden stove was burning at one end, and a samovar was boiling at the other. Those who dropped out of the game, those who lost, were obliged to put hot tea in front of the players instead of the cooled ones.

When the turn came to Jabrail-muallim, who was the head of a company, the audience died down and the jokes stopped. After all, this person enjoyed high authority. Jabrail-muallim took his place and turned to his partner:

“Bahlul, my neighbor, please be careful, we must take revenge for the latest defeat.”

“Yessir,” said Bahlul-kishi, who was recently hired as a watchman in the yard market. The Jabrail-Bahlul pair was considered the strongest in the quarter. Both were graduates of the University of Economics and were good at calculating moves, as well as guessing the result of the game. The first round passed at quite a pace. They won and took revenge for their previous defeat, but were unlucky in the next round. They hardly sat down when they had to get up again.

The passions were burning. No one cared about tea anymore. Upset, Jabrail left the room. “Damn it, what an awful thing to happen,” Bahlul thought to himself and went out, following his neighbor. He had to solve his problem somehow. Having caught up with his neighbor, he began to apologize:

“Excuse me, for god's sake, I tried my best. We were unlucky somehow…”

“Take it easy, you lose once, you win later,” the neighbor tried to calm him down. These words made Bahlul-kishi cheer up, so he decided to move on:

“Jabrail-muallim, you promised to give me a suitable job if the opportunity arises.”

“I remember, neighbor,” Jabrail-muallim replied. “There’s no vacancy yet. Have some patience. I am a responsible person. If I promised something, I’ll do it.”

“I know, brother. Heaven bless you,” said Bahlul-kishi, expressing his gratitude. It was cold outside. Bahlul-kishi decided not to hold back his neighbor, said goodbye and thought to leave. Seeing this, Jabrail-muallim, apparently remembering about something, turned to his neighbor:

“Neighbor, what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Why are you asking, dear? I can ask my son to watch over the market for me. I'm at your service.”

“There’s no service. I haven’t travelled for a long time, I want to go on vacation to Kechresh, Quba, with my wife tomorrow. If you want, you can join us. Take your wife too. It will be more fun having a company.”

Bahlul-kishi was very happy with the proposal of his neighbor. To be honest, he did not expect it and considered it an honor to set out on the road with such a respected person, so he was quick to agree:

“With great pleasure. But I want to ask you for something. Just don't be offended, please.”

“I am listening.”

“I’ll pay my expenses.”

“Come on, what kind of expense are you talking about?” said Jabrail- muallim. Bahlul-kishi answered quickly:

“No. Please, don’t say so. I have to spend money as well, otherwise I will feel myself uncomfortable.”

At 9 am, both neighbors stood at their respective entrance doors with their bags and spouses. Despite the insistence of Jabrail-muallim, Bahlul-kishi did not agree to get into his new Jeep. “I cannot be so impudent,” he thought to himself and turned to Jabrail-muallim:

“Don’t you worry, neighbor. We don’t need to go far after all. Let everyone use their own car. It will be more spacious this way. And then, my Zhiguli needs a test drive as well. I have never traveled out of town on it.”

Jabrail-muallim was not a fan of high-speed driving. He always said, “The quieter you drive, the further you get.” This characteristic was beneficial for Bahlul-kishi, since his car was old, but at the same time reliable, having never let his owner down on the way. Bahlul asked God to make sure that nothing happened to his car on the road. This might annoy Jabrail-muallim.

They reached Kechresh. Then they went to the Ulduz hotel, located on a mountain covered with forest.

The hotel staff went out to meet them. Jabrail-muallim greeted them by shaking hands:

“How are you, daredevils?”

“Thanks, dear,” the guy who stood in front of everyone said. “Everything’s ok, your rooms are ready.”

Bahlul-kishi realized that Jabrail-muallim had called and booked rooms before leaving.

In the hotel, the two good neighbors were also located next door. But the difference was that in the city they lived opposite each other, but here they lived side by side. Each family had their own room. About an hour later, Jabrail-muallim went out into the corridor and quietly knocked on the door of Bahlul-kishi. The latter, as if standing just behind the door, waiting, immediately looked out.

“What can I do for you, dear?” he asked.

“It’s time for lunch, neighbor, let’s go eat. The shashlik is great here,” Jabrail- muallim said.

“I swear by Allah, brother, I am not hungry,” Bahlul-kishi answered immediately. “In the morning we left the house in a hurry and did not have time to have breakfast, so when we arrived, we began to eat immediately. Feel free to go and dine. Bon appetite.”

Jabrail-muallim began to object:

“What are you saying? Listen, we don’t eat shashlik every day, do we? Get ready, let's go. This one’s on me.”

“Don’t insist, neighbor. We are not hungry. Otherwise, we would surely accompany you.”

* * *

Although it didn't snow, it was still cold. Jabrail-muallim and his wife were sitting in the spacious, bright salon of the restaurant near the hotel and having lunch. The couple chirped about something sweetly, while contemplating the landscape.

Jabrail-muallim was a busy man, and as such, he rarely could find the time to leave the city and somehow relax. This means that he was greatly enjoying his trip. He took a break from the bustle of the city and felt relieved. He decided to go with Bahlul-kishi thinking that he would have someone to talk to when bored. But he could not imagine that his neighbor would show his stubborn character. Such a person is not good for a company. At the moment, his role was assumed by Laman – the wife of Jabrail-muallim.

Only the devil knows what Bahlul-kishi and his wife were doing back there in the room. They never opened their door until evening, and never left the room. When it was time for dinner, Jabrail-muallim knocked on his neighbors’ door again. Less than a couple of seconds later, Bahlul-kishi already opened the door:

“Please, brother, come in. Welcome.”

“Thanks. That’s not what I came for. You two did not leave the room today. I thought I’d ask what was happening.”

“Nothing special, we’re just chatting here, me and my wife,” Bahlul- kishi replied.

“Look, go out and enjoy nature, admire the landscape. You don’t have this clean air in Baku. You’ll have plenty of time to chat at home,” Jabrail-muallim advised.

“To be honest, we were afraid to catch a cold, that’s why we stayed here. And you know how expensive the drugs are.”

Shaking his head, Jabrail-muallim changed the subject:

“Alright, get ready, let’s have dinner. You did not share lunch with us.”

Bahlul-kishi took his neighbor by the hand and answered:

“My dear, maybe you can be our guest? My wife brought excellent cabbage rolls from home, she prepared it herself.”

Jabrail-muallim realized that the neighbors did not want to be a burden to them, so they were not a good company, and decided to be clear:

“Bahlul, we want to taste the turkey shashlik. We invite you too. If you change your mind, feel free to come.”

* * *

The night came. Like all the other vacationers, our neighbors slept soundly in their rooms. Waking up in the morning, they could not believe their eyes. It snowed at night and everything was covered in white. Bahlul-kishi was very upset: “What am I going to do? How do I get out of here in my wreck of a car? How can I get to Baku?”

Jabrail-muallim, on the contrary, was happy as a child:

“You see, how lucky we were, wife? Did you expect that we would see such snow?”

“I did not expect at all,” Lyaman replied, delighted, and then joked: “If I had known, I would have brought a thermos with me to collect and take some snow to the children.”

This time there was a knock on Jabrail-muallim’s door.

“Brother, there is snow everywhere, how can we get out in this weather?” Bahlul- kishi asked, agitated.

Jabrail-muallim began to calm him down:

“Don’t worry, neighbor. We’ll come up with something.”

It was about 12 in the afternoon. The snow would not stop. Bahlul- kishi was deeply worried. His wife Sakhne Khanum, seeing her husband's condition, began to calm him down:

“Look, why all this agony? Who forces you to race with your car? We’ll go slower and we will get there somehow.”

“What are you saying, wife? We saved money for 20 years to buy this used car. And now you say that I have to ruin it over bumps? You think it is easy to go downhill on bald tires? What it slips and crashes against the trees? Do we have extra money to pay for the repairs?”

“What do you propose, then?” the wife asked.

“We’ll walk down the hill. Then we’ll catch a ride with someone and continue. When the snow melts, I will come back for the car.”

Jabrail-muallim and his wife were also going to leave. Lyaman Aliyeva said:

“Jabi, the roads are covered in ice, maybe we should leave the car here and go down on foot. We'll catch some car and go home.”

“What are you talking about, wife?” Jabrail-muallim objected. “You want us to slip and hurt ourselves? To the hell with the car, let it break down. At least we will be alive and well.”

Secretly from Jabrail-muallim, Bahlul-kishi went and paid for his room, which greatly upset his neighbor. But he nevertheless accepted his offer to go in his Jeep, although he tried to refuse at first.

… The neighbors arrived safely at home.

Bahlul-kishi was going crazy. He just kept thinking about his old “Zhiguli” car. As for Jabrail-muallim, although he was in a good mood, seeing the concern of his neighbor, he also felt guilty somehow. He was not even particularly happy that he had travelled to Kechresh.

* * *

Bahlul-kishi could not keep still. It was two weeks already that the car had been waiting for him on the mountain. Every day he called the hotel and asked about the local situation, but the snow would not melt. He had to wait, there was no other solution.

Another week passed. The snow did not melt – on the contrary, it snowed harder now.

When they were playing dominoes again, Jabrail-muallim, seeing Bahlul-kishi's frustration, offered unexpectedly:

“Neighbor, our opponents beat us last time. If you play well and we win, I promise to bring your car from Kechresh using a tow truck.”

Bahlul-kishi almost jumped of joy. It was as if he was not facing a domino game, but a struggle for survival.