The Bloody Veil. Abdurashid Nurmuradov

      * * *

      The father came back late, in a depressed mood. I couldn’t overdo myself and asked what was going on. He drew to himself a balysh1, lying on him with a dirty cloth, sweating his forehead. He drank a cold tea until the last bite and only then turned to me:

      – My son, it seems to have to go to Tashkent faster. She has given up very recently. The doctor advised to hurry. On the way, I went to the post office and took my pension. I leave money, buy something to eat and take care of the children. As long as I put my mom in the hospital, you’ll have to deal with it yourself. God knows when I’m running. Having said this, he gave me a dozen out of a bundled cloth pack.

      Son’s heart told me that my father was tormenting something else. He closed his eyes and walked away from talking, which was not typical for him.

      I could not sleep all night. In the depths of the room lies the father, my brothers sleep between us. From time to time, I hear the voice of the sister Gulnoz, calling her mother in a dream. Her voice wrecked my soul even more. It was tight in the room. It feels like walls on four sides are trying to squeeze me. I suffocate in the dark. I feel like my father is not asleep either. It seems, an invisible thread is stretched between us.

      – Rashidjan, do not you get sleepy?

      –Yes, – I am answering.

      – You are not small anymore, you know a lot. For me and my mother, you are the only support in the world. You probably condemn me for having to leave our hometown and wander in the naked steppe. Having lived my life, having became old, I realized that there is no happiness for an honest man in that blind light. You do not know everything.

      All the relatives from our village were fed and raised by my mother, Uzuk. And I myself, how many people helped come out, accepted, listened. At work, what happened, my chest stood up to protect them. I thought, "Bloody, who can help if not them?" It will not be said in disgrace, they gathered with us every morning and ate our bread. One after the other, they grew up. My efforts went to institutions, began to earn. Eventually, they bit the hand that fed them. Because of them, my son, we came here. Like unfamiliar dogs, relatives clinged to me, and joined in the harassment arranged by my enemies.

      – That is so, my son. No book can contain this history. If you are healthy now, I have nothing more to ask of God.

      – Well, what happened, it passed, – he breathed hard. After a long pause he said:

      – A month ago I received a letter from Vahidjan. He exploded on a mine and now he is in hospital. I couldn’t tell to mom, and you didn’t dare to tell. I read the word “exploded” and it was like a cliff in my heart. The head went round, the pressure rose. After that, I do not feel the letter of life in me. What it is to explode, I have experienced on myself, son. It is impossible to come to him. How, I do not know. – My father’s voice changed. He was crying. I felt like the earth was falling from under my feet. The head swings. "Exploded, exploded" thousands of times the voice of the father sounds in my ears.

      Something burning rose from the inside and approached the throat. Tears flowed on my cheeks, not obeying my will. My sister turned to me:

      – Mommy, Mommy, – she whispered, stroked my face. Then she hugged me tightly behind my neck and, as if on my mother’s chest, fell asleep with a strong, peaceful sleep. I could only hear her quiet breath.

      And before my eyes was a brother standing in the train, with sad, anxious eyes. And I could not at that moment find the strength to ask my father in more detail how it all happened. As if he wanted to keep his brother in memory as he had.

      Man has such a condition. You don’t want to live, but you live. You don’t want to breathe, but you breathe. You don’t want to see anyone, but you see. You get used to everything. Must be!

      I tightly pressed my sweet sister to my heart, as if I was seeking refuge in her fragile, pure soul. And she, as if wishing to calm me, rubbed her cheek on my cheek, quietly standing. But the words of the father "exploded, exploded" still sounded in my ears, rushing into me from all sides, burned my heart."My brother, my dear, dear brother; what have they done to you, how are you now?”

      The soul is devastated. As if something was broken inside. I can’t even imagine how my father lived this month. How was he…

      I had a dream at night. My mother was in white clothes, holding bread in her hand:

      – You and your father are deceiving me. Where did you hide Vahidjan? I’ll give him at least the bread he left behind, – she said, stretching a slice to me. I was awake. The sister was sitting on the bed and staring at me.

      – Sleep, sleep, my sweetheart, – I said quietly, hugging her by the shoulders. Turning her head, she laid her head on my chest and fell asleep. It was down. A pale light broke through the dusty windows. The light filled the room.

      Carefully, not to wake up my sister, I released my shoulder, laid the girl on the pillow and went out. A cold morning wind was blowing. Never flying beyond the threshold of my house, my thoughts are now far away. Everything was not nice, everything around me lost its meaning in my eyes. Even the magnificent mansion of the director of the state farm, which proudly stood before me, now seemed to me to have collapsed, lost its majesty. With a mixed sense of embarrassment and amazement, I looked at the marble facade of this house, the brilliant new "Volga" in front of it. Having a house and car was the limit of my dreams. Not only mine, but everyone around me. Now, in the face of the impending trouble, these values somehow immediately dimmed, lost their significance. I don’t know how long I stood on the threshold. I woke up when I felt my father’s touch. In his hand he held a knot. My distracted face worried him:

      – Son, take yourself in your hands. I am already old.

      You will remain the head of your brothers and sisters. Here is a letter from Vahidjan. Write him a more pleasant answer to raise his spirit. I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, – he said and handed me a letter. – I will go to your mom. You will be alone, – he added and went out on the road. He walked heavily, slowly, tired, heading his head, as if he was searching for his once lost happiness on this dusty canyon road.

      I was left with the letter in my hand, exhausted from reading, not finding the strength to uncover it, to find out where my brother was wounded. I stood unconsciously at the threshold. Someone pulled me by the sleeve. There was a sister next door. In her eyes was a childish anxious. I bowed and took her on my hands. The girl hugged me tightly and grabbed my cheek. She lacked the warmth and care of her mother.

      We entered the house. I put her carefully, and she fell asleep again. My relatives were sleeping. And I was sitting next to them with a dying heart, looking at the letter. My patience has finally ended. Every word of grief entered my heart. I will never forget these simple and terrible lines.