about the news, which saddened his nation. The head of Intelligence Department of General Prosecutor’s office – Abu Abumov – was assassinated at the entrance to his house in March 2002. He was one of those few people, who had not lost humanity and remained in the System, serving his nation truly. For a whole week, newspapers were roaring with condolences; black boxes were mourning the loss. People wanted to learn the name and reasons of the killer, but every loophole for information leakage was thoroughly blocked. That is why for relatives Abdul was “someone from the System, who should know the truth” about the nature of this murder:
“Well, nothing surprising,” – coughed Abdul to give more severity to his tone of voice. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” Then he tried to cut short the conversation, but his kin were eager to suss out more: “Why do you think the assassin was called by General Prosecutor – Lunar Basitov – just before being killed?! They say, the victim had been talking on the phone with him for about a minute. Do you think it is a mere coincidence?”
Abdul was picking his teeth with a toothpick, removing scraps of kebab, at the same time carefully listening to the continuous inquires. The subject was delicate: he was personally involved in work under the guidance of General Prosecutor in question. Some two or three years ago, now a prominent politician Lunar Basitov had been Local Prosecutor in Abdul’s current workplace in this very city of “N”; and only in year 2000 he was promoted by President to become General Prosecutor of the whole country. Although Abdul served Lunar Basitov for only two years, he felt that he should not say anything derogatory about him at that moment. After all, wolves never prey upon wolves. Therefore, he answered brusquely “Sure”, clearly showing his indisposition for further discussions of the subject.
Accompanying Abdul in various family get-togethers, Leila easily sensed her husband’s irritation at uneasy conversations and could immediately introduce an array of other topics for discussion. She seemed to lay herself out to be a good wife to her high-flying husband.
A daughter of a former GP in the city of “N”, she had never been abroad. She was raised in the Evil Empire and, being a part of the system, witnessed the prosperity – as well as the downfall of the regime – with ambiguous feelings. From time to time, she nostalgically recalled little heart-warming moments of the past, successfully omitting the miserable ones. That was her nature: to see the sunny side even in the ugliest things. To feed her over-romantic soul, she would lose herself in poetry, occasionally trying her hand at writing one. She took across her love for beauty to almost everything: to their grey house, which she kept impeccably neat; to the beds of flowers, she planted on the front porch of their abode, and to her trimmed into perfection appearance. Even after giving birth to two children, she was still petite in figure. Her silky black hair, which she wore long, gave her a girlish look. Indeed, she frequently received compliments on looking young in her mid-thirties. She liked to be sometimes mistaken for her daughter's elder sister. She rejoiced at those moments and would later retell those experiences to her neighbors – with some exaggeration.
Abdul was irritated by his wife's “juvenile behavior” and found it inappropriate for a married woman with children to pay so much attention to style and fashion, but he had enough tact to keep his resentment to himself. He adored his wife’s patience and gave her way in most things. He cherished the way she ran the household, feeling free from any disturbances related to chores. He was even more satisfied with the way his wife handled the kids, without involving him into their tedious routine. The only time he participated in his children's life was when choosing their names. As a person who hated being bothered by minor stuff, he without much thinking called them after his grandparents: Ali and Hannah.
Although Abdul took practically no interest in the upbringing of his children, he did not miss any opportunity to talk about them to others – especially when his relatives were around. He dwelt upon Hannah and Ali to such an extent, that if one heard his detailed narrations, they would definitely take the speaker for a truthful father. All the information he shared was obtained through his talkative wife. Actually, being married for twenty years, they had a limited number of common topics for small talk – mainly about children. Indeed, Abdul could tolerate endless discussions about Ali’s future life, as they heated both his pride and imagination. Being the only male offspring in the family, Ali was looked upon as the succeeding heir to everything, Abdul had achieved.
Hardly living up to his Parent’s expectations, Ali was poor in constitution, anemic in development and pale in face. His raven-black hair in contrast with ghostly complexion made its look even more sallow. Despite his constant struggle with asthma, Ali was industrious and reflective, and would do anything to take after his deserving Dad. From the very early age Ali was made clear, that all the breadwinner’s responsibilities would one day befall his slender shoulders; and he had to bear the brunt till his very death with dignity, inherent of the Bahtulovs’ House. He was also expected to financially support his parents in their ripe old age; as well as to marry a girl, thoroughly chosen by his scrupulous mother, and raise his own sons under the same roof.
In eastern culture, it is a rooted tradition to determine children’s destiny from infancy, or even better – before they are born. When it comes to the child, his duty is to vassally obey and not to disappoint those who bring him up, otherwise he can be easily disinherited.
However, Ali had luck to deviate from some unwritten rules, as he was given the freedom to choose his future profession. To everyone’s astonishment, the adolescent’s choice was connected with the sphere, totally alien to his parents’ generation. There was hardly anyone, who could grasp the desire to work with such outlandish machines, as computers. Nevertheless, being put through the mill of the pick of trade by his own father, Abdul decided not to force his son into anything as well. Although with reluctance, he still went along with his son’s option – to become a programmer.
Less lucky was the fate of his second child – Hannah, for whom everything was settled from the day of birth. She was betrothed to a man fifteen years her senior; and the perspective marriage was due to come into force as soon as she reached physical maturity.
Then, being a girl of thirteen, Hannah started gradually acquiring exquisite features, inherent to a stunning beauty. The only thing, constantly drilled into her head by her mum, was about getting married and having children – as the final aim of all women’s existence. This kind of conversations evoked indignation in the rebellious nature of Hannah’s. Provoked, she would inquire the origins of this antiquated belief. The answer she got failed to satisfy her curiosity: “It is by God's will”. Observing ever-complaining wives around her, the young mind could not get a grip on why the supposedly kind God imposed such a gruesome fate on his beloved children. No one seemed to be able to give a reasonable explanation to the burning question of hers. Her rare beauty accompanied with an inquisitive mind only fuelled her growing resentment and made detest her status of the most sought-after bride. Hannah's snowwhite skin and shoulder length brown hair, which was a good match to her fair complexion, arose much envy among sun-burnt girls of her age. Inheriting grey eyes from her father’s line, she took after her grandma, who used to be a recognized paragon of beauty in the good old days of her youth. They say, once her grandma’s stunning charm was on everyone's lips. Unfortunately, Hannah was slow to witness that fact: when she reached a conscious age of thirteen, she could see a withering woman of fifty with a whole bunch of flourishing diseases. The ex-beauty sorrowfully condemned childbirth as the main culprit of her fading good looks.
Inwardly, Hannah followed her mother’s line: she found delight in burying herself in poetry; her sense of beauty was a match to Leila's. A bird in flight, a tree in bloom, the starry sky could easily take her breath away. She shaped her admiration for the stated things into poems. Over time, writing became her obsession. She was convinced that literature was up her street; and she wanted to devote the rest of her life to Euterpas, the muse of lyrics.
The question, whether or not she should attend high school, was on the family agenda daily. Her aspiration for knowledge and cultivation disturbed her uncle Mohammad, who was an ardent adept of the traditional way of life
