covered everything, decorating the veranda. During summer months, it was a dining room. A heavy oval oak table occupied almost all the territory, leaving a narrow pass-way to the wooden door, opening into the living room.
Back then, living rooms were called aynabends. The word could be literally translated as a glass-room, because the walls of it were built with multiple doublesashed windows.
Abdul’s house was a fine example of this conventional style. Being rectangular in shape and no shorter than 9 meters in length, the walls of the living room were incorporated with a long row of windows.
From the point of view of practicality, these windows were a reckless thing to install, as under the Regime the city had no central heating. This construction could sustain comfortable temperatures during winter months, but in the blistering heat of summer, such rooms turned into boiling kettles. The sanity of people, who came up with the idea of these glass-rooms, could be questioned.
In her turn, Abdul’s wife never questioned the necessity of the windows’ decoration. They were dressed in tulle with brown boteh, which is a traditional almond-shape print, patterned on crimson portieres. A true match to them – Vinous Persian carpets covered the wooden floor, overlapping one another, hardly leaving a single spot bare. To finish this fabulous sight, a Czech crystal chandelier with twenty-four lights was installed by the hospitable mistress of the house.
Unfortunately, such wonderful chandeliers fulfilled only decorative function, as in the 2000th the city was devoid of regular electricity supply – to indulge in its luxurious light. Joyfully, it was not totally deprived of those happy bright hours. For two or – on some particularly lucky days – even three hours, citizens were blessed with this achievement of civilization.
Therefore, Leila, by regularly dusting the crystal treasure, served this chandelier more than it served the family – by illuminating the room. An ideal counterpart to this ceiling-masterpiece was sophisticated furniture with typical of the eastern culture curved designs. Placed in the left corner of the living room, two display cabinets were filled to capacity. The cottage china was white elephant and never used to treat guests. As if awaiting for them, a bare table with a thick rectangularshaped panel stretched itself on four ridiculously thin legs in the middle of the room. It was long enough to accommodate a family of elephants.
The left side of the living room was adjacent to three poorly furnished bedrooms. The second floor of the house was uninhabited for most part of a year and, therefore, was also of no use. As you can see, there was more than enough space in Abdul’s house to throw a party and less than enough furniture to cause problems in accommodating volunteers to share the joy. Besides, neighbors were willing to lend their meuble, as they were eager to be of any help to Abdul.
They even helped to write and distribute numerous invitations to all the relatives. Next door mates did not need any official asking to participate in the event, as their presence on the day of celebration was inevitable.
In an unstoppable ant-line, neighbors were carrying additional tables and chairs on their backs to Abdul’s yard. Arranging the scene, they left the central part empty – for dancing. Women from the neighborhood came carrying their sets of crockery and cutlery in boxes, tucked under their arms or graciously holding them on their heads. Soon the whole house was swarming with rushing legs, aching backs, cooking hands. Two days were spent on preparation for the event.
The fifth of August finally arrived – as well as the guests at the door. Abdul in his crispy black suit was standing at the entrance, shaking male-guests’ hands and tossing a few words in between. Hannah was to accompany her father and meet female guests, which traditionally meant kissing them on both cheeks and giving welcoming hugs to every invited soul. A true match to her dandy-like Dad, she was dressed in a stunning red gown, slightly revealing her knees and was forced onto high heels by her mum. The scarlet colour, lavishly coating her plump lips, flattered her white skin. It did produce a wow-effect: it made the girl eye-catching and made men involuntarily turn their heads in her direction. As if shielding from these curious glances, Hannah felt timid but self-conscious. Each minute spent there – under the scrutinizing eyes put together with those sole-crashing high heels – felt unbearably long. But the worst was yet to be faced.
A car with familiar numbers turned the corner, raising all possible dust at its reckless speed. This was the car of the man, Hannah was betrothed to; the man whom she hated with all her heart, the man whose wife she was supposed to become – Ibrahim. The car stopped right in front of Abdul’s gate.
Two pairs of massive legs fought out of the rear doors: Nargiz and Aila. The former was Ibrahim’s mother – a morbidly obese woman of forty-eight with greasy black hair. Her short limbs with fatty flesh, bouncing in all directions, made an amusing spectacle for everybody including Hannah, towards whom her future in-law was dragging herself. The black dress, she had squeezed into, was so tight that it seemed to burst apart at the following uneasy step. She was being followed by her daughter. Aila was a cheerful woman with shoulderlength chestnut hair. She was in her twenties and despite excess weight, her gait was elegant and light. Smiling from ear to ear, she threw a swift appraising glance at Hannah and generously pecked her several times.
Ibrahim lingered in the car and after a while pushed himself out of the driver’s seat. Eyes fixed on Hannah, he was striding towards Abdul. A sore sight to witness: his fat belly-apron was hanging and swinging from side to side with every step. The sun was unsightly exposing his grease thinning hair. His swarthy face looked darker under thick black brows. Beads of sweat were trickling down to his aquiline nose. Ugly spots of perspiration were all over his shirt. His slow movements were given an impression of haste. His whole appearance seemed gawky. Under the compassionate looks of the guests, he finally reached the host and thrusted his wet hand to Abdul: “Salam aleykum!”
– Aleykuma salam! – responded Abdul. Ignoring the expecting hand, Abdul hugged Ibrahim, patting on his shoulder approvingly: “How are the things with you?”
– I am all expectation, – Ibrahim grinned with delight, broadly revealing his yellow teeth of a tobaccosmoker. He was hinting at his marriage with Hannah. Then, turning to her, he nodded his head as a token of greeting. The latter did not look at him, intentionally avoiding any eye contact. The mere sight of this man turned her stomach, though he was supposed to become the father of her children. The man, at whose company she repelled, had something extremely repulsive in his gestures and manners. He was more like a predator than a human. «I would rather die than…» – she thought to herself. She stepped back, keeping as far as was politely possible and forced out: “Hello!”. To her relief, he carried his body further and joined other men.
All the guests had almost arrived by 5 p. m. and took their places at tables. Separately from others there was sitting Ali – brimming with the best mood since the day he was born. For him, this celebration was a farewell to this city, these people, this shell-like world! Receiving congratulations, he could not help looking down on them: “Small people with small wishes.”. This thought crossed his mind, whenever the guests approached him. Some of them were genuinely happy for him, others exhibited insincere gladness, but all of them were equally complimenting him on his resounding success.
The first sounds of traditional music came out from the band of musicians, who were blowing into their clarinets, standing in a line on the improvised “dancing floor”. Abdul welcomed the guests by inviting them to join his dance. According to the local tradition, the host should be the first to hit the floor and, approaching each table, to absorb guests in merry-making. After that, all felt free to eat, to drink or to shake a leg on their own will.
Meanwhile, women were serving the main course. They were running back and forth, devoid of a chance to take a breath or a glass of wine, though toasts were coming from different ends of the tables. Praises were told to Abdul for bringing up such a talented son and bottles of vintage were drunk in one go.
The
