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Chapter 11 Tears of the nightingale

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  Chapter 11 of the Povest of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"
  (Translated by author)
  Chapter 11
  Tears of the nightingale
  Autumn came. Of the poplars, maples and willows softly falling red crimson and yellow leaves. Sometimes the leaves whirled to the sad wind, like a Golden butterfly. No, it is rather a slow dance crimson yellow leaves, which are swept away frown the janitor in the wind On an autumn Tillacuduq fields farmers collected stems of cotton called "guzapaya", uprooting them using tractors, cultivators. From the collected stems of cotton they bind the sheaves and stack them in mop, which resemble thousands of tanks on the misty field of battle. Especially when thick fog enveloped the field, moving silent dull silhouettes of working people in the fog, like the souls of the dead soldiers. Already the leaves fell from the acacia-tree, which grew near a field camp. Exposing a nest of magpies, like the old blackened woven from twig baskets in the middle of thorny black branches of an acacia tree.
  Makeshift field Desk workers covered with fallen yellow leaves of acacia, poplars and willows. For the field mill to the field, Khurshida with her mother Rakhila stems of cotton gather the stalks and tying them into hay bales, pitch slides, to make it easier to load them in a trailer vehicle of a tractor. They work in warm clothes as it is cold. The tractor driver Sultan in those days was working on a transport tractor-trailer, taking out bundles of cotton at home, at the client's request. He sat on the edge of the field and warmed himself at the fire, where the noise of burning firewood, lifting into the air and throwing orange smoke and red sparks, like stars. He warmed himself, thoughtfully pouring into a mug of hot tea from a thermos and sipped, waiting for customers will load stem stems of cotton on the trailer of his tractor. He was in cotton trousers and a sweatshirt. On his head was a lumberjack hat, and on his feet - tarpaulin boots.
  His thoughts were interrupted by the man who came out of the fog with a pitchfork in his hands. After learning his name and thinking that this man is the father of Khurshida, the tractor driver Sultan got scared, thinking, surely he learned about my relationship with his daughter? Did she and her mom betray me and that angry man came to deal with me as man to man? But when the father of Khurshida Abduljabbar politely continued the conversation, he calmed down.
  - Jian (my nephew). You will carry our guzapaya (cotton stems) or You don't have time for this ? If not, tell me immediately and I'll go find another tractor driver said Abduljabbar.
  - I have time. Just let me drop guzapaya (cotton stems) the client will be free - said Sultan.
  - Thank You, my nephew that refused. Well, I'm off then. Our cotton stems over there for the field camp - said Abduljabbar.
  - Well, uncle, as soon as I can, so just go to You -promised the tractor driver Sultan.
  - Uh, thank you, my nephew! (God will give You the benefit of my cousin!) - happy Abduljabbar and he walked away, disappearing into the fog. The tractor driver Sultan also enjoyed thinking about meeting once again with his beloved. He was ready not that there free to take their cotton stems home, but even did not hesitate to become a dog Khurshida, bound in heavy iron chain rattling and to protect their yard in the night, in the cold and barking would be steam coming from the mouth, lying in the doghouse when swirled snowflakes in blizzards thicker and thicker covering trees, roads and fields.
  With such thoughts he went to the side of his tractor to fit it to other stacks to create a comfortable condition for loading. The tractor driver Sultan took the loaded cotton stalks of the client at the appointed place and released, returned to the field, where he waited for the family of Khurshida. The lovers smiled at each other in secret from Abduljabbar.
  - Thank you, nephew that came without having to wait long. Well, started then. You, daughter, take the fork and you will serve me heaps, but your mom will put them in the trailer so that the cargo did not fall on the road - said Abduljabbar, as if dispensing work.
  - Well, father,Khurshida said, taking the fork.
  Then Sultan stopped her.
  - No, - he said - This job is not for girls. Wet bundles of cotton so heavy that they can easily break the wooden handle of the pitchfork. Give me a pitchfork, I'll help.
  - Thank you, nephew. It turns out you are a noble tractor driver. So help you God, because you decided to help us! - blessed Sultan Abduljabbar.
  For such conversations, they started boarding. Sultan with power lift heavy bundles of cotton and stretched up, and his father Khurshida stacked them neatly in the trailer. When they finished, everyone was sweating from the strain. By this time, the trailer was a large heap, over which stood the parents Khurshida as on the hill. When finished, the Sultan has stuck a pitchfork in a haystack bundles of cotton, and said:
  - Uncle, aunt, sit back and hold on! The road is not smooth! Go! Khurshida"s father before you sit down, shouted:
  - And you, Khurshida, let's get in the cab and go! - he said.
  - All right, dad! - said Khurshida and climbed into the cab of the tractor. The tractor driver Sultan started the motor and began to slowly and gently picked up speed. The parents of Khurshida went sitting on a huge stack of cotton, swaying, like an Arabian Bedouin on a camel high. The tractor driver Sultan drove slowly, like the tortoise, that the goods have not fallen to the side. Moreover, the fog made it difficult to see the road and to navigate on the road. They drove for a long time. Finally, they arrived, and the parents carefully down with huge stacks down.Khurshida is also out of the cockpit. Lifting the hydraulics of a trailer, Sultan dumped the stacked sheaves have beside the gateway. The cargo fell with a crash to the ground, thus raising the front part of the tractor. When the discharge ended well, all breathed a sigh of relief.
  - Thank You, nephew- said Abduljabbar, took out the money from his pocket of his pants, and handed them to the tractor driver Sultan.
  - That's the money we agreed on. You can find - he said. In order not to arouse suspicion, the tractor driver Sultan took the money and began to count it.
  - Now we have to drag into the yard all these sheaves and lay down in a haystack. And for tomorrow weather forecasters promise a rain with sleet - said Abduljabbar.
  - Yes? What we stand then? Dragged! I have such a principle, once started someone long enough, I will go to the end!- said the tractor driver Sultan, taking the bundle and heading in the yard.
  -No, no, You, nephew, we'll figure out something. Out in the field, You helped us enough. And then You get tired, fall asleep at the wheel, and in the mist will fall into a deep ravine with his tractor. Better You take a break - said Abduljabbar.
  - No, uncle, what are you saying? I'm not at all tired. I myself am a rural guy, that is not the first time I get into such situations, "said Sultan, continuing to carry sheaves into the yard.
  Well, as you know, in General, I warned You, nephew. And I have to say that I cannot pay you for your help, you want to have on.
  - Yes, you do not worry about the additional charges, uncle Abduljabbar. I want to help for free. As they say, of the feelings of humanity - explained Sultan.
  -Well , then thank you again, for help free, dear nephew. The first time I see such a good tractor driver as you. Apparently, the world is not impoverished, good people - he thanked the tractor driver Sultan - said Abduljabbar and told his wife and daughters, to prepare dinner, and work themselves right.
  Then Abduljabbar with the tractor driver Sultan worked in silence, dragging to the yard sheaves of cotton. Then they started to build a stack on a flat clay roof of the barn. By evening they had finished work and showered. The tractor driver Sultan was about to leave, but Abduljabbar stopped him.
  - No, no, Mr. Tractor driver, how is it You don't know, but we have since been made. Get together for dinner and then You can go on all four sides. Come, come inside, as they say Russian, you are welcome to our hut insisted Abduljabbar. The tractor driver Sultan was left with no option but to obey the hospitable customer. Before to go in the house, he managed to secretly exchange a glance and a smile with his lover girl Khurshida. He kicked off his boots at the entrance. Removing and hanging on hangers for outer clothing and headdresses, he again washed his hands and sat down on the mattress, folding his legs like Buddha, in the area of the low table with short legs, which is called Khontakta. According to the custom of the Uzbeks, Abduljabbar read a short prayer and made amine, having hands to the face. The tractor driver Sultan also joined in. On the Khontakta was a glass bowl of salad for pilaf. Here Abduljabbar stood up and said in a low voice:
  - I, by the way, there's a strong Russian vodka in the fridge. Let's get sloshed on the best. And it is a sin not to drink for such a meeting with a great tractor driver and a good man like You, Sultanbai. Booze up softly to my wife not noticed. No, I'm not afraid of her. Only, you know, I can't stand the crying and the tears of women. And here such meeting. The more you tractor driver, I'm a mechanic and livestock farms, that is, it appears we are colleagues - blinked brightly Abduljabbar. And added:
  - And You know how my father taught me in my youth? It is often said that son, eat shit, but immediately wipe your mouth with a lump that nobody noticed what shit you eat. My father was such a wise man, uuuuuuuu... - boasted he began to laugh in a fist, shaking his shoulders.
  -Yes, no, uncle, I don't drink alcohol! I'm driving and my clients! said the tractor driver Sultan, sitting near at khontakta in a Buddha pose.
  - Yes, I do. You are a guest here and do not have the right to vote. I'm the host. Well, at fifty... and I Drink that Nightingale a tear for the health of the Chairman of our kolkhoz, comrade Kokyutalov abu Salasarimsak ibn Guslvozhib Tezaktelybakezavuch- said Abduljabbar and left. After a few minutes he came back with vodka and ringing in Tashkent cups in his hands. He was so happy smiling from ear to ear, his smiling mouth was reminiscent of sliced watermelon. Squatting, Abduljabbar opened a bottle of Russian vodka, teeth like a dog gnawing a bone.
  Then he poured the fiery moisture into bowls, with the words "forgive us Allah," and handed to Sultan a bowl.
  - Well, Sultanbay, drink the tears of the Nightingale, which untie our tongues - he said. The tractor driver Sultan would never have picked up a Cup of vodka, but took a bowl, as I didn't want to hurt the father of his beloved girl.
  - Let's drink first, as they say, for our meeting. But we'll see what to drink next stack. Cheers! Come on let's go! said Abduljabbar, like the great Russian cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin before flying into space. With these words he drained the bowl and started to eat, distorting accordion face and exhaling the air that fire will burn him inside. The tractor Sultan only took a sip of vodka and set the bowl on khontakta. He ate a salad, preprared a tomato, onion and hot pepper. While Khurshida was preparing to bring pilaf, vodka in the bottle over. But Abduljabbar was already tipsy.
  - Come, take, eat pilaf, Sultanbai. Or You bring a spoon? I know, urban people are very cultural, and they eat risotto with a spoon. It is their right. But these foolish people do not know how many mouths have been the spoon. To even think about it unpleasant. And the hand is their own, private, live spoonful, which was given to us none other than God Almighty! For this simple reason we are with you the second dish is always needs only hands. And liquid food we have to eat with the bread, dipping pieces in the broth. So the Great Ibn Sina, the one with Avicenna, who was born in the village of Afshan near Bukhara. Here, he said to eat food with your hands is helpful, as our fingertips are highly sensitive nerves, and they help the flow of bile acids in the stomach which ensures good digestion - he said, eat hand pilaf.
  - Well, uh, when Avicenna said that, I too, perhaps, join - said the tractor driver Sultan, and he also began to eat plov with his hands. After some time, the father of Khurshida spoke again.
  - You know, a young colleague that I respect the Chairman of our kolkhoz, comrade Kokyutalov abu Salasarimsak ibn Guslvozhib Tezaktelybakezavuch? I respect him because thanks to him I became a mechanic of livestock farms. Our esteemed President was the first to notice my performance, and, of course, my God gifted talent. He, says he, you have Golden hands, and indeed it is. Every spring I go to the pasture and shear the sheep at such a pace that seeing as I do it, dumbfounded, even American cowboys from Texas! Yes, Yes! I for hour can shear a hundred sheep, not even tying their legs. Now keep the silly sheep with a huge Gissar sheep between his legs and "Vgik! Vgik!", ready! You wouldn't believe. One day we arrived in a barn an American journalist with a video camera. He even began to agitate me.
  - He said to me, Mr. Abduljabbar, what are you doing in this place? You have a talent! You must live in America or in France!
  - You miserable American, what have I lost there at all?!
  - He says, as it is not lost, a farmer are you, a Communist?! Would you, says he, opened a Barber shop there in the crowded New York or in bustling Paris, near the Eiffel tower and sheared'd grit, day and night dogs of billionaires! I would live like human beings. Eating, grit, layered burgers, opening your mouth to overflowing, to bite off a slice of this exotic food. I said, no, miserable American, thank you very much, do not agitate me, still I will not go there, I said, can't leave his Homeland, his native village Tillakuduq and these mountain ranges, I "m sorry. He says, okay, a farmer Communist, ay, says he, of handstand you and he drove away on a motorcycle "Irbit" the biker with the wheel, raising a cloud of dust. Well, you think You like, check normal, how can I go overseas, when the Chairman of our kolkhoz Kokyutalov abu Salasarimsak ibn Guslvozhib Tezaktelybakezavuch, he trusted me with this responsible work, how to shear sheep. I'm the Chairman of our respect more than my father! His word is law to me! The Chairman of our friend Kokyutalov abu Salasarimsak ibn Guslvozhib Tezaktelybakezavuch, my idol who gave me more than I asked for. And God?! I begged him to give me a son, and he gave one daughter. You know, I at night, not showing anyone the tears, silently crying, crying, from what, I have no son, the heir, of a man like you. My soul cried when you helped me, honestly. I aged twenty years, turned black from a grief! Many times I asked God about it, but He is still silent. If you do not believe, I can try to repeat this event now, in Your presence - said Abduljabbar. And, looking at the ceiling, began to pray:
  - Oh, my God, my God! Well, tell me, in the presence of the guest, the tractor operator Sultan that I have done you wrong, huh?! Has not diminished Your wealth, if You gave me a son like this guy! This is because I do not read namaz, right?! Well, yeah, I drink. But what do I do if I am addicted to alcohol, tell yourself, God?! I'm used to it, and drink have become my habit, you know? That is, I can't exist in this world without vodka. In the morning I swear on everything Holy, promising his wife that he tied, to the cross in this set, and - for you, in the evening, without knowing it, come home already drunk, winding steps! As bewitched. It's all of that, I have no son, the heir. I'm not just for fun, and of sorrow drink my God! Don't get me wrong, and in the day of judgment you tell your angels that they didn't leave me in the fire river, where bubbling lava! - he cried .
  Seeing and hearing this, the tractor driver Sultan was confused, and not knowing what to do, he began to calm Abduljabbar:
  - Well, don't, stop it, uncle Abduljabbar, don't cry.
  Abduljabbar stopped crying and looked up. Then, lazily licking his lips, reproachfully looked at the tractor driver Sultan.
  And who are you to teach me, huh, punk! Tell me, who the hell are you?! What, strong? Cool huh?! Yes, I am now...this tool will rip your belly! - he said and suddenly grabbed an empty bottle, broke it in half, striking it on the edge of khontakta.
  The tractor driver Sultan got scared and stood up.
  -Yes, no, no, uncle Jabbar, I didn't want to teach You and... I just wanted... to... ' he said, cautiously looking down at the broken half of the bottle, which turned into a sharp and dangerous cutting tool.
  - Come close to me, stinking tractor driver, if you are tired of living! Well, what are you waiting for, cool! Hit me! Strike! Well, good luck! Afraid? That is something! Now you'll never leave here alive! Pray lastly, dead!I'll wear your guts a turban on your head like a Grinch. - threatened Abduljabbar, and, rushing to the tractor driver Sultan, he began waving a broken bottle left to right, but each time he missed. The tractor driver Sultan barely escaped the yard. Behind him ran out and Abduljabbar. The wife of Abduljabbar Rahila and her daughter was crying, shivering with fear.
  -Wai, dead, help-those-Muslims! At least one of nibua-uude! Daughter, run to the neighbors, help us! I'll distract your father. - shouted Raheel.
  - No, mother, to run together! I can't leave you! - cried Khurshida, running around in the yard.
  Men fought to the death. Finally, the tractor driver Sultan using the method of aikido, he twisted Abduljabbar's hands and sat on it as the hunter-poacher over just to shoot wild boar.
  - Bring the rope quickly! he shouted
  The mother of Khurshida brought the rope, and with her help, the tractor driver Sultan tied the hands and feet of Abduljabbar. He scolded the tractor driver Sultan was worth, threatening to kill him as soon as he had the opportunity.
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