Chapter 2 of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"
Although Khurshida with her own eyes saw the tractor driver Sultan climbed to his cultivator, went back to the side of the field, but she still could not forgive herself for what was scalded by negligence of the poor, innocent guy, drummer, mechanic of farm Tillaquduq. Poor thought only of Sultan, and she was sorry for the inoffensive, patient and funny guy. Another man in his place thought she would be angry and maybe even hit her, or, at least, would appeal to the court with request to pay her a certain sum of money as compensation for the damage caused to his health, and, he? He, on the contrary, comforted Khurshida, dancing in front of the workers of the kolkhoz who could testify in court in his favor as witnesses. He groaned and jumped from the pain, and I, the fool, asked him his name. Despite the searing pain, he said. And not forgot to make a joke, saying that his wound will heal before the wedding. And how he danced! As the American Michael Jackson, I swear! I wonder why he even works as a tractor driver when he has the talent of the artist-humorist. After all, he could open his own theater of humor and satire to make serious money. I wonder why he works as a tractor.
With these thoughts in mind, Khurshida could not sleep, listening to the ringing singing of the crickets and looking out the open window, curtained by a curtain of white tulle, through which shone round the moon and twinkle of a distant star. From afar came the tired lazy barking of dogs and the croaking of frogs in the old pond with blooming white and pink water lilies.
Khurshida decided to go in the morning on the field, where he will cultivate cotton tractor driver Sultan, to ask him again for forgiveness, and discover how Sultans leg feels, which yesterday received a burn on her fault.
Meanwhile, at the open window not a strong night cool breeze gently fluttered and slightly blew the curtain, woven from tulle resembling a sail.
Khurshida was sleepy. She fell asleep like a patient under anesthesia during surgery. She dreamed tractor Sultan, who was working on his tractor plugging the endless and eternal sky covered with clouds.
- Hello, Mister Sultan! -Khurshida said, looking up at the sky.
Hearing her voice, the Sultan looked at her and smiled, continuing to run his air-ship bulldozer in a boundless sky.
- Oh, it's You, Khurshida?! Well, how are you?! -he said.
- I have everything in order! And how are you?! Are your legs okay?! -asked Khurshida.
- Nope, not sick! Last night I anointed my scalded leg with toothpaste and by the morning the wound stopped hurting - it was gone! Honest mechanic! If you don't believe, I can show you the wound healed, just a second. Here, let me take my jeans off, and you'll see this firsthand... said the Sultan.
With these words he rose from his seat and jumped on the hood of a bulldozer, moving on the balls of gray clouds. There is a tractor under his feet, famously shaken, and the Sultan nearly fell to the ground. Have Khurshida heart sank. She was so scared.
- No, no, Sultan, don't take off your pants! I believe you! Oh, be careful! -shouted Khurshida.
- Yes?! Well, as you wish! Watch me, I will dance tap dance! - said Sultan, without waiting for a response, and began to dance right on the hood of the bulldozer.
Sultan danced with his tarpaulin boots, like the ring of iron horseshoes hitting the hood of the tractor.
Then he suddenly lost his balance and fell from the flying bulldozer. But he managed to grab the spotlight of the bulldozer. The young tractor driver was hung and tried by all means to stay, not to fly down. Bottom Khurshida fear a little crazy is not gone. And Sultan went flying down, plugging the clouds their ploughs.
- Oh, God save the Sultan! Hang in there, Sultan! Hold the spotlight bulldozer! I'll call people for help, and we'll work something out! Be patient!-shouted Khurshida, running here and there, but never taking his eyes off of the tractor and from the tractor of the Sultan, which hung in the sky like the great Hollywood stuntman, jumped at chassis jet bomber in the movie about the American-Vietnam war.
Then something irreparable happened: headlight air tractor came off with all the wires and the tractor driver Sultan flew down like a stone. He flew through the air with a wild cry like a paratrooper, who has a jammed chute. Khurshida fear covered her face with her hands, and in a few minutes with a crash he hit the ground, raising a cloud of dust. You should have seen how bitterly Khurshida cried hugging the body of the tractor driver poor Sultan, who fell from the sky!
- Sorry, Sultan! Oh, forgive me, for God's sake! This is my entire fault! If I hadn't asked you about your health, you wouldn't have got on the hood of your flying bulldozer that sails the boundless sky of our solar system where You tap-danced to convince me that your scalded your leg doesn't hurt anymore! - She cried, shedding bitter tears.
Here, surprisingly the tractor driver Sultan woke up. Khurshida was surprised and froze like a marble statue of Aphrodite.
- Well, You're roaring again, like a little girl in kindergarten, dear Khurshida? Would you please stop crying, I'm alive and healthy as an ox. If you don't believe, I can get up and dance tap dance - said Sultan.
And rising, he again began to dance, circling like a whirlwind.
- Oh, thank you, God, for saving Sultan! Thank God! -Khurshida cried, shedding tears of joy.
She woke up, like a patient after a successful operation. Realizing, finally, that all this happened in reality, she breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God. She was delighted, thinking, saying as well that others will not see the dream that she dreamed. When she stood up, and opened the curtains, looked out the open window, she saw the morning sky, like a furrow.
After breakfast, Khurshida went to the field, eager to meet the tractor driver Sultan to know about his health. But, unfortunately, she didn't see that the tractor of Sultan. She was worried, thinking, what happened with him? Maybe his leg at night got swollen due to the fact that he danced to appease me? Poor Sultan! Well, what am I so careless and clumsy. Maybe he was up all night in pain and writhed in pain, and his parents called an ambulance at midnight. Then the doctor gently laid him on the stretcher, drove him to the hospital? Maybe he was lying and groaning still from the pain, and he has already begun gangrene? Who knows, the doctors might amputate his leg to gangrene not surprised the weight of his body. The horror! A young guy in a prime of life, because he became disabled for life? Really now, Sultan will move with crutches and walk on four legs? Maybe the district social service will provide a free wheelchair with the wheels of a bike, and he will travel by spinning the wheel by hand, he could have fell on the side and in a ditch? Or maybe he already died on the operating table and the surgeon wearily taking off his mask, told his family the terrible news that they have done everything that depends on them, but, alas, could not save him, as they were not able to stop the gangrene. Maybe siblings of Sultan crying over his body took him home and buried? Who knows, maybe now his mother, crying in a loud voice, curses Khurshida because she was scalded by her son, who died on the operating table surgical Department, tormented in hellish pain? No, no, no. God grant that the Sultan everything was in order, she prayed.
Although Khurshida mentally tossed in the assumptions, she also hoped that Sultan with the sunrise appeared in the cotton field on his tractor.
Finally the sun rose, and she saw in the distance, in the cotton field, the familiar tractor driver Sultan, happily smiled. Her eyelashes trembled again and tears welling joy like dew on a morning rose. Leaving his hoe, Khurshida ran down the path, with the two side's overgrown green lush grass, in the direction of the cotton fields, where Sultan worked on his tractor. She ran like a girl on the platform, which runs struggling to meet with the dearest person in the world. And Sultan at this time happily glided over the cotton field, kicking up dust and taking a large flock of swallows.
When Khurshida came closer to the tractor, from what she saw she was motionless, like a wax figure of a girl in Madame Tussauds museum in foggy London. But Sultan was not in the cab of the tractor, instead an elderly person. Khurshida wanted to ask him about Sultan, but she was afraid of her father, she did not dare to ask about what happend to Sultan, thinking that suddenly this person would tell someone about their conversation, and if it reaches the ears of her father, and it would be the end for her.
With these thoughts, Khurshida went back and began to work. Working, she thought only of the tractor driver Sultan. She wanted to see him. She felt a huge need. She began to feel that without Sultan, her life turns into an endless desert. She felt in her soul a longing for the tractor driver Sultan. She wanted to cry, loudly and bitterly. She sat, and rested her forehead on her knees, beginning to cry silently, shaking her shoulders. The tears rolled from her eyes, dripping as large drops of rain before a storm. Khurshida stopped crying only when her mother Rahila came to help. Hearing the crackling of brushwood, where her mother walked, Khurshida raised her head and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes on the hem of the dress.
- What's wrong, daughter? Why do you have tear-stained eyes? Are you sick?
Oh, you naughty girl! How many times have I told you to have a breakfast in the morning, and you? You eat very thin. Sometimes, don't even have Breakfast, and you run to work. And here is the result, now, perhaps, you have a headache or a stomachache. Looks like you've lost weight recently. Like a model on a diet. So it is impossible. Well, okay, you go home and take a day off, my lovely. And I'll work here - Raheela said, hugging her daughter and stroking her head.
- No, mom, I don't want to go home. And the headache is gone. I have everything under control; don't worry ' said Khurshida. After that, they began to work together, knocking hoe, leveling the soil in the stony field.