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Volcano "The Moon Outside My Window" (Satirical Novel) (64) Freedom

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  Volcano
  
  
  
  
  "The Moon Outside My Window"
  
  (Satirical Novel)
  
  
  
  
  (62) Freedom
  
  
  
  
   At last I was freed and received a considerable sum of money as a compensation for the moral damage. In order to come round and adjust to life in freedom I had spent two weeks at Dmitry Stepanovich"s place. He said that after the incident his sons moved to the farm and working there continued the cause of their father. Dmitry Stepanovich and his wife apologized to me for what had happened.
   - Why, it"s not your fault, really. It was just misunderstanding. It"s I who must ask your pardon for it all happened because of me. Had I not been on the farm that scoundrel would not have come to see me.
   - No, Alec, you are not to blame - said Dmitry Stepanovich - I shouldn"t have sent you to fetch vodka.
   -Well, no. Don"t say that, Dmitry Stepanovich - I said - The main thing is that you are safe and sound. Nothing else matters. Now I have a chance to pay my debts to people in Matarakch who gane us fruits and vegetables on credit. I was given a temporary identification card for the road, instead of a passport. Now I will go home to see my relatives and give out all my debts. Then I"ll get a new passport and come back to go on working on your farm. We"ll work together.
   - Ye-e-s, you are a good man indeed, Alec -said.
   That evening Dmitry Stepanovich and I had long talked drinking tea with sugar and lemon and only went to bed at around midnight. In the morning I packed my things, said good-bye to Dmitry Stepanovich and his wife and accompanied by their sons left for the airport to fly to my dear homeland Uzbekistan.
   The plane landed at Tashkent airport. Wishing to present my daughter with a nice gift, I bought a big fluffy Teddy Bear, a panda, at the airport.. Then I went to the railway station by taxi, and to save a little money, I decided to travel by the second class.
   I like to travel by train. It"s nice to look through the carriage window at the people, trees and houses moving away. Particularly at night. You watch the darkening steppe and the moon which pursues the train keeping pace with it. You can see stars shining somewhere beyond the night plain. Then again, stretching like a ribbon in an old news-reel, trees, empty streets, the starry sky, solitary stations and dreary drowsy street lights begin to flow by.
   I sat as usual looking out of the window when suddenly the conductor turned up. He asked the passengers to show him the tickets. I recognized the man who was a boxer, a bad-tempered man and had bad friends. When he saw me he blushed like a turkey and having checked the tickets walked away quickly. I smiled following him with my eyes because there was someone sleeping on the third shelf meant for baggage. I watched the night landscape again flashing outside and didn"t notice how I fell asleep. I woke up from a crashing sound. I looked and saw a man who fell down from the third shelf meant for baggage.
   - Did you hurt yourself? - I asked. He turned to me and burst out laughing. All passengers also laughed. Somehow we all cheered up.
  . Two hours later we arrived in Andijan . Again I took a cab to go home. When the cab reached the center of Matarak I saw a friend of mine and asked the driver to stop. I took my things, payed the driver and went out. I called my friend:
   - Matash!
   He turned back and stood dumb like a statue with a bicycle. I left my things on the roadside and walked towards him with my arms open.
   - Hello, buddy!
   For some reason Matash stepped back with his bicycle. I was surprised.
   - Why, don"t you recognize me? - I said - it"s me, Al Kizim, a friend of yours.
   Then he stopped and, flapping with his eyelashes, kept silent for a moment and then said:
   - Oh my God! I can"t believe my eyes! Is it really you, Al Kizim? We thought you...No-oo-o,, this must be some misunderstanding.
   Then he threw down his bicycle and hugged me. We exchanged greetings, and I asked:
   - Do explain plainly to me. They were going to kill me, or what? Don"t worry, I will pay all the debts today. As I said it I suddenly shuddered and asked him hurriedly:
   - Or maybe, some of my relatives...Oh my God! Why do you keep silent? Speak!
   - No, your relatives are all right. And nobody was going to kill you. How should I explain it to you... In short, you were born under a lucky star. Thank God, you are alive. The point is that we have buried you.
   - What are you saying? Stop kidding, will you?
   - Upon my my word! - Matash went on - We got the terrible news that you had died, and you were found in the wood with your skis on. Now it"s clear that it was someone else"s body. But how come he had your passport in his pocket? It"s beyond me.
   - On hearing these words I squatted feeling giddy. Trying to set my mind at rest Matash said:
   - Then your sons went to Saint Petersburg to bring your body which was I the morgue. When they brought it we buried him that is you, next to the Kalankhan Adalatov. Your sons have even set up a marble headstone on your grave with your photo and your poem "The Love of the Store Keeper" on it. You had that poem published in the Uvada Newspaper, remember?.. Yeah, that"s a pretty kettle of fish! Don"t cry, buddy, come on, get up, will you?
   Now Usta Garib and Mirzakalandar turned up. Then a crowd of people quickly gathered round. Some were looking at me as if I was a heavenly creature others made a noise wishing to greet me. Hugging me, Usta Garib said:
   Well, Al Kizim you are Koschei the Deathless. You have come back from the better world. Or, perhaps, you are not Al Kzim, eh? Maybe, you have just put on a mask? Well, let me see...
   - No-oo. It doesn"t look like a mask. It"s Al Kizim!
   He started shaking my hand and greeting me.
   Presently I heard a familiar voice. I looked around and saw my sons running up to me.
   - Daddy, dear! Are you alive? God be praised!
   It was my elder son Arabbai. He joyfully threw his arms round my neck, while my younger son Sharabboy also threw himself upon me crying happily like a Pakhtakor football player that hugs his teammate who has scored a goal:
   - Father! Good gracious! Daddy!
   I nearly fell down trying to keep the balance. The three of us stood embracing one another like a team of KVN players trying to answer the question of their rivals.
   I walked towards my house along the corridor of onlookers.
   As I was about to turn round the corner Ramazanov"s wife caught up with me looking like Jean-Claude Van Damme"s fan wishing to get his autograph. She must have been running fast, for she was breathing heavily. She greeted me and asked me where here husband was. I didn"t know what say, so I told her a lie:
   - We parted after we had been cheated by crooks. Then we met nice people. One of them offered him a job so he went away with that employer. After that I didn"t see him again. I didn"t know where he was working because I was put to prison. Ramazanov"s wife thanked me and walked aside.
   Meanwhile I saw Salima running fast towards me. She was limping. Now all of a sudden she fell down on the ground. She must have lost consciousness. I ran up and lifted her.
   - Salima! Come round, dear! What"s the matter with you? - I cried.
   But she didn"t reply. My sons ran to call the ambulance. Holding my wife in my arms I walked dragging my bad leg. The crowd of onlookers was getting bigger. They ran pushing one another like western reporters recording a fresh sensational scene on a video camera.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   Andijan (Andijon in Uzbek; also Andizhan) - the fourth-largest city in Uzbekistan, and the capital of the Andijan Province. It is located in the east of the country, in the Fergana Valley, near the border with Kyrgyzstan on the Andijan-Say River. It has a population of 323,900 (1999 census estimate).
  
  
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