Mystery of mysteries
(The Turkistan epos)

If you don't believe in God in soul,
If you don't shake your 360 blood vessels,
If you don't enslave your 444 bones,
You are a liar; you aren't in love with God.
Akhmad Yassaviy

Chapter I

       If yesterday acquaintances of Kenja in the hospital had told him "Tomorrow you will be a long distance away at this time" he would have laughed telling "Are you prophesizing?" Helplessly, a human being can not know what will happen not only after a day but even after a moment. You plan "I'll do this" or brag "I'll do that". But totally unexpected occasions suddenly arise before you and break all your plans. Otherwise, would a man, who just yesterday lied suffering in a bed in the hospital, clutching his head and not knowing where to put his strongly, incessantly aching head, be sitting trembling painfully, looking at the dark window in a compartment of a coach! Yes, they call it life, which is fine if you can bear, but if you can't, there, ready train, like the woman, who lost her husband relying on her lover, throw yourself under the wheels and could go to heavens!
       There are moments in one's life, when he takes his duppi (Uzbek national headdress) off and wants to ponder seriously over his flowing life. Even when the whole world is on fire and you are running back and forth in hope of extinguishing the fire, you need to stop for a while and look around. For a person greeting 40th year of age, it is not simply a wish, but a necessity. Inner necessity! You see, out dads-granddads have not vainly told "Man's life is like a mountain; forty hills - ascent, forty hills - descent". If you don't look attentively ahead and behind at least when you are on an acme, when are you going to look? There is also a saying "If you learn something at your thirty not at ten, do at your forty, then are you going to think where dead?" Yes, it is the counting world, especially; the life has to have its counting!
       A week ago it wasn't only a neurotic sickness, which made Kenja come to be in the hospital. It wsa hot the assertions and alarms of doctors like "You ended your nerves sawing! This way you would go crazy!" He had other reasons to make strong decision "That's it! I'll get in!" In the beginning he would not think of anything, but take a forty-year rest. Then he would analyze his forty-year life. And then… he would take up his scientific work, which had been eating camel's meat for many years, and put an end to it!" Further nowhere!...
       He has recently read three works one after another while preparing a written speech on orthographical matters to use in his doctoral work. "A law of eternity", "An answer", "A tulip field" Note that in all these three works, a protagonist be in hospital and estimate his past live. At that time Kenja thought "Oh, by the way…" Clearly, his estimation will not take months! One or two, at most, three days will do. What is the use of torment yourself in thought? It is enough to rest his nerves and collect his thoughts. Then you'll see him standing on a peak of "A thousand of horse herd" ready saying "I'll wring mountain!"
       These were streets of his desire! And now, all left somewhere unattained.
Damn all those world affairs that "sensational" doctoral work! When does unlucky man's hunt go well, if it does - his claim goes well?
       He took his eyes off the pitch-black window and unfolded a crumpled weekly in his hand. Stared at the last page: "Advertisements"…"Welcome to cool beverages!" Laughed bitterly. "Cool beverages! A beverage is not a seacoast to call it cool! It could be "cold", "icy", "freezing", whatever, but … not Uzbek, not Turkish, but it is dull. Shifted his glance to another point of the page: "Relax station" Of course! Name it "A station for waiting", call it "Resting station" …
       He got disappointed at it too and his heart contracted. He headed dizzily to the tambour like a drunkard. Tambour! Look at the coincidence of that tambour (tambour - a stringed musical instrument) to this one. ("Am I playing tambour to your ear?" means "Am I speaking in vain?") Honest to God, at the moment his nerve is strained more than both tambours!... Trying to avoid touching the dirty tambour's walls he hardly took a tobacco-case out of his pocket. A piece of paper came out together with his fingers. That bad news! The four torn sentences, which has been memorized during the last three hours, intruded his thoughts like a black whirlwind: "Botir, your mom feels bad, arrive quickly, brother" Interesting! Which brother is it? Sobir or Qodir? Elder brother has not much skill at writing. Then, younger! But … The most skillful of all skillful able to …………………………., his brother with curved horn … has sent a telegram, but forgotten to write his name. Did he get lost at mom's being ill in bed? Then tell that something has really happened! How is his mom?...
       "No, it is not so, it can't be so!" - Kenja looked for consolation to himself. Two months ago when he went she was quite well! True, she looked a bit worried at the new business his brothers had started jointly, but lively. Furthermore, no matter how much hostile they look at each other both his brothers are not inept. Especially, his brother Qodir, whose hand can reach the other side of the world!... Would he keep a dying person at home and send a message? Seating her in his car, he could have taken her to that big city with those well-known doctors. Could he call at least?
       Moreover, what can you do to the clumsy woman, who had been hiding such an urgent message for three days, huh! "When you have just lied down… I didn't want to bother you!" she says! There MOTHER is in that state, here she exhibits such care.
       To tell the truth, he made a mistake himself at the beginning. What was he doing in the hospital in the middle of the city in such hot time? He could have gone to the village taking his children. No! He thought to make three-four days of rest, then to put an end on that work and turn into for typing… He gave it successfully. It is always so: plan one - the result is another. What the heck, are his works, luck cursed?!
       True, whether the sleeping-pills taken one over another have shown their power, in the beginning he didn't lift his head from sleep for 2 days and nights. Having his nerves fully relaxed and taking a look at the weekly schedule on the 3rd day he became happy. How can he not be happy if after another three days he will give a serious speech to all the people of the republic on "The problems of speech culture nowadays"! He hardly spent the three days showing off the schedule to his roommates. Then listening to radio - his only entertainment, he couldn't believe his cars. His "sensational" speech announced in the weekly schedule… for some reason wasn't of programs? What mean person's work is this?" Right after lunch he made a call from the booth at the side of the building to literary worker, who had prepared his speech. "Is everything all right, brother, I wasn't in the morning program?" The worker answered shortly: "Calm down, brother, there is nothing". He wasn't satisfied with the answer. "How do I need to get it, brother?" The man on the other end was more hot-blooded than him and he shouted angrily: "You are strange, brother! I said there was nothing, that is it! Do you understand Uzbek or not?" In order to avoid irritating the workers he didn't say good-bye and hang the handle. Coming out from the four-cornered booth he swallowed his grievance inside. "No, I don't understand Uzbek, brother! Here, I've been mad for thirty years not to be able to understand the language! It is not a language, but a mystery!"
       He endured until noon, trying to cool his nerves. At last, in the afternoon he went to the city in the dress, which he'd been keeping in the room just in case. It seems the literary worker does not want to tell something! There is likely something here! He needs to know what it is! Maybe, it is not late yet? Maybe, the situation can be corrected? Is it bad for a candidate of science to tell truth from his heart in the democracy? Why do they cross out his words with one strike?
While waiting for a bus at bus stop he thought: "To radio I can go anytime, should I better take the second copy of the manuscript?" When he phones home, he was given a directive from his wife: "Since you'll come home, could you do shopping on your way, daddy? Till then I will look after the baby and cook plov? Okay?" It made his blood boil again.
       The working day drew close to end, when he came home having carried out the directives of his wife. Anyway, there is about an hour… Putting aside his string-bag he grabbed the phone. Called the worker even those higher than him one after another. What if one picked up the phone! No! "That is it, today is lost as well!" - thought in anger. At this moment condemns of the doctors came to his mind: Lead such a life, if the world floods don't let water rise to your feet! Be more careless, brother! By sawing your nerves incessantly is there any benefit?…" He waved his hand negligently, enough for today! He will go straight to the radio committee, finish his work and then pass to the hospital. It is not that bad! With the thoughts he caressed his little daughter, then glanced out of the window at his children plating in the yard and entered calmly the bathroom. He enjoyed the warm bath. Putting on a housecoat went out to veranda. Switched on TV. Lied on his side on a pillow and pulled his little daughter standing near table to his chest, who had recently learned how to walk. He felt his nerve relaxed. Quietly ate plov listening to the meaningless talk of a fat man on TV with careless facial expression and to his wife's complaints in sick voice. After the prayer for the meal he sipped hot tea and lied sideward on a pillow, his wife stared at the window holding the empty dish. He didn't pay attention in thought she wanted to call children for dinner. But his wife's dreamy words… strained again his nerves rested for a while. "In the world there are people who live in pleasure, brother Kenja! Hanging two bags in two hands like a double-bag we are walking. There, brother Tukhtaboy put his very new car at the door and stands significantly nearby; his children are carrying trailer full of melons and water-melons in the peak of summer! Do they also have unrealized wishes?"
       His patience didn't remain to listen to the rest of the words. Something appeared right in his heart and started to sting around it. Involuntarily yelled: "How many times have I told you, Malika?! I will never get a car in an unfair way as Tukhtaboy! If can't bear, there, highway!" The wife wept: "I just let out what I thought. But you should have been ashamed to speak so…" Now Kenja didn't have any tolerance - neither to drink tea nor to watch TV, even to see children. Having hardly bridled the newly risen riot in his heart he quietly went in his room. He rotated the round doorknob from inside. That is it! He will imagine there is no one in the world but him! Neither that ambiguous literary worker, not the nerve-racking wife, nor the extraordinary neighbor in front of the building, his former roommate, unpleasant Tukhtaboy!... In hope to soothe his nerves twisted like a silk rope he started to walk side to side in the room. To make himself busy he took the second copy of the speech that he looked forward to listening in only a day and a night incomparably blurry, colorless, colder that that at his heart. No matter how much he tried to collect his thoughts, wife's just told words came up to his mind. He grew angry again. Why is the woman getting more dissatisfied day by day? The person, who had not meant even when she lived on lease and endured if now recall incredible difficulties… has been residing for three years at the royal apartment and instead of being content she whines greatly. Whenever you look at her she complains "there is nothing at home". "Damn such a life" she says. "Damn your profession" she curses.
       It is right, tough profession, for the one, who can handle it! A wise man like Gete has written: "Book addict is a horse without a bridle that only knows how to run eagerly". Imagine not a coolheaded European, but how a hot-blooded Asian run a zealously.
       While Kenja gazed at the stack of papers before him sizing his head in his arms and seemed like reading, the door was slowly flicked. It was followed by the begging voice of Malika:
- Open the door, Kenja aka!
Standing up he moved towards door. Stopped in hesitation "Open or not?" Her anger hasn't ended yet. It means, she'll tend to argue! Slowly, but firmly told:
- Leave me alone, Malika! It is enough that you spoiled my weekly effort. Let me recover. Meanwhile, you go take the little downstairs to play!
- Your Ilkhom took the little…
- Then… go as well! I've got a work for about an hour.
- And I … have a word to you, Kenja aka, very important …
- What is the matter?
- To tell your ear…
       Suddenly his heart anticipated. Before his eyes it embodied very innocent and beautiful Malika of fifteen years ago. Slowly, turned the knob, felt hopeful of as well as worried at something, went to take his seat. In short his shoulders sensed the heart of mild forearms.
- Please, don't be nervous, Kenjaka! In order you could recover quietly … I've done something…
"What thing? Yet even for "to recover quietly"! The one, who wished his quiet recovery …" He got tired of waiting:
- What thing? Stop tormenting me and tell if quicker!
- The thing is … three days ago … came a telegram.
- What telegram?
- From your brother …
- Where?... Looking hastily through the piece of paper in wife's hand, stood up dizzily. It turned out he had to catch the nine o'clock train. What can you tell to the woman? Without telling an appropriate word he quickly got dressed and going out cried:
- I'm gone! Take care of children!
- Where?
He barely calmed himself down and stopped awhile at the door:
- To village, dear, village! As soon as I get there, will phone… - said hardly.
How he got to the station. How many doors and windows he looked in hoping to get a ticket. Entreated in vain what apathetic people showing the slip of in mind right now. All the same, the words of the guy are still sounding under his ears: "I understand you, but understand me, brother! The time is delicate. Everywhere is at revision. Can't take without ticket!... He begged almost weepingly: "I will talk to the reviser myself! Fine, I will go without sleep! Ok, I will stand by! It is only a seven-hour way! Don't let it be a chimera, dear brother!... While he was begging the train started to move and the doorman began closing the door. He grabbed the handle desperately and pulled himself up. All the same, it was clear, that his soul was at his throat at that time.

Chapter II

His new acquaintance, a found again forty-year friend looked at Kenja warm:
- Well, now, if you not call it tedium, I would like to tell you a tale, son. First of all the way will shorten. Then, won't get asleep as hardly like if it stands dust, it will not reach feet as these men!
- The old woman mimicked to the Fat man lying right before their eyes and shaking like a sack of meant. Then she made her hand an awning over her forehead and stared into the dark window:
- Did not we get to Turkistan, yet?
Kenja leaned to direct his watch to the light:
- There is an hour to go!
- Then you can listen to it till the end. In fact, what I want to tell isn't a tale, but a real event - what our great-grandfather Zakhiriddin Alam has seen. My father, be peace upon him, has requested me "Tell the story to your sons and daughters when they grow up". Well, since you are grand son of Botir polvon (muscular man) you are about the age of my son. I tell and you listen! You will tell it to your children one day.
       Kenja became all ears.
       "Long time ago in Turkistan there lived husband and wife as friendly as Adam and Eve. They had two daughters and a son. When time came and their daughters grew up they gave on in marriage to Turkistan and another to Terskay. You know Terskay, don't you, son? It means "reverse", "the other side of Qoratov Mountain".  At present the place is called "Suzoq". Have you feared "Suzoq event"? they have written much painting about it. So they only gave their daughters in marriage and not having their son marry they had an accident and died. The youngest son became an orphan at fourteen and being deprived of the huge house burned down to ashes he was left at his eldest sister's hand. Months passed by. The time is hard. Living is harder than a stone. It was the time, when on e had to think of himself. It was hard to look after not a brother of wife, but even own son. It was necessary to feed the orphan boy, educate him, when time comes to have him marry. Brother-in-law has many children! His affairs are more than enough to himself. The eldest sister has thought much and told to her brother one day: "Brother, did you miss your sister in Terskay? Don's you go to see her?" the boy was well-brought up and quickly agreed with her. He packed necessary things for a week and departed alone on feet going over Qoratov Mountain to Terskay. Found the house of his little sister. Gave "warm regards" Thus he started to stay here. A month passed by. The sister had many children as well. Own problems were enough. The brother needed to be fed, educated to a good man, married when grows up. At last, the little sister also told the words: "Brother, you probably was obedient, quickly consented. Again took weekly things and got on the way on feet over Qoratov Mountain to Turkistan. When arrived at elder sister's house in Turkistan, he conveyed his little sister's "cordial greetings". Started to live looking at the moods of brother-in-law, and nephews and running at their errands. It didn't pass a month, when the sister started the talking: "You probably missed you sister, brother?..." So the boy went back and forth between Terskay and Turkistan and squandered his life going over Qoratov over and over again. Thus he grew up. The poor boy couldn't read, differ white from black, understand what was going on in the world and was na?ve like a child. They told they need to marry him at least now. When his head doubles and takes the family burden on shoulder hopefully eyes will open! Then his sister in Terskay pondered and came up with a tricky solution. She started to praise her brother well to the grown-up, cute, Kazakh daughter of a neighbor camel shepherd: "My brother has a large house in Turkistan! In Margilan he has a big store, in Bukhara a supporter, in Samarqand a garden!... in dreamt of marrying him the prettiest girls of Turkistan are ready braiding their hairs and embroidering his name on a veil…" So, the skillful a tradition in Kazakhs to abduct a girl. So, she made the guy and the girl flee to Turkistan.
       Now listen about her brother, son. The guy kidnapped the girl, but stopped on top of Qoratov mountain. What should he do? Should he lead her to Turkistan? Should he tell the truth and return the girl? Or should he throw himself off the peak? Not speaking of a large house if he had a shelter in Turkistan! When he was living under patronage of his sister and brother-in-law to bring the girl too? Wouldn't be hard? He has only heard that there were cities called Bukhara, Samarqand, and Margilon. Tomorrow the girl might reproach him…
       The guy thought much and chose the third way to throw himself off the mountain. The girl was keen, she noticed the guy's intention went bad and grabbed his hand firmly. When she asked him persistently, he told everything.
       The girl was smart; therefore, she didn't step back. "I got on the way not for your huge house or wealth, but trusting in you. Take me to Turkistan! We will see from out fate!" said the girl. Sad to the additional burden, glad for the easy solution of one task the brother-in-law and the elder sister engaged them with a bowl of water; their small wedding took place worse than "Toyi iqonbacha" of Mavlono Muqimiy. The poor girl was smart, patient, and skillful. Moreover, she had golden hands, every her step - treasure. After the wedding asked husband "Could you buy a sack of fur at the market?" There were cattle all around and then in Turkistan the fur was very cheap. Husband brought a sack of fur from the market. Wife started to weave socks from it. Husband sold the socks one after another and brought fur for the money. Then wife turned to weave vest. Husband kept selling vests at the market and delivering fur for their money. Then wife began weaving carpet … thus, son, the husband and wife soon get so rich that they could buy half of Turkistan. In their opinion wide Turkistan seemed small to them. Meanwhile, they'd owned a large house, four big stores at four corners of the city, many servants, maids and shepherds. They became parents to two sons, each of whom resembled Rustam from the poem. The sons grew up. One day parents decided after much thinking to get out of the small town to live in wide field. They headed to Qoratov Mountain turning out a thousand horses, a thousand camels, and ten thousands sheep. They lived pleasantly in the fresh air mountain putting up a tent, drinking horse milk, eating qazi (food out of horsemeat) and bathing in the medical water of the well of "Cried father" meantime, their third son was born. The three brothers grew up on top of the mountain plating like a deer, roaring like a lion, howling like a wolf, and skipping like a lamb. All of them led happy life. One day a talk of the three brothers turned into Turkistan and they argued "Turkistan is such, Turkistan is so". At that time the owner of a thousand sheep who lied comfortably on his side on a pillow, are sheep meat and drank horse milk, told arrogantly relying on his wealth:
- Damn that Turkistan! At past it has made me suffer. When I got married to your mother my wedding occurred worse than a funeral!...
       The next morning the five of them woke up and saw it stood a black wind whirl! ... When they looked around placing their hands over eyes, all their cattle lied dead at everywhere.
       They didn't know what to do. Their relied wealth left them like dirt washed off a cloth. Alas, that's fate! Now it is a soul need to be saved! After long thinking at last, they had to get on way to Turkistan. They walked a long distance. When they descended from the mountain onto a plain the wind whirl also stopped. But then it started a wind whirl in dad's stomach. Usually modest people like you and me can satisfy their hunger with a piece of rigid bread, son. If there is no bread they will be full with patience. But one, who is used to eat large, can't endure a hunger! The stomach of one with a cave desire can't be filled with a thousand horses. The father with an insatiable desire couldn't bear the hunger and ran side to side. Howled like a wolf before a burrow of ground squirrel. It was uneasy: the need's mouth opened wider like a mouth of a dragon. It came out moans from the mouth as a flame. Turned fully to an animal the Father yelled at mother attacking at his little son: "You take two sons away, wife, I will satisfy my hunger eating the kid otherwise I can't get to Turkistan! ... "Yes, it's always been so, son! At the time of need - at the time of life and death mankind turned to eat the flesh of the youngest and suck their blood. That's the nature of humankind, son! Your uncle Usmon was like the brave young, in afghan war a scoundrel killed him! ... So, the mother knelt down before husband and begged: "If you can get to Turkistan with it, ok, eat the young! Fine let it be a donation to Turkistan! But my sole implore, don't let my ears hear and eyes see my child's soul suffering. Can't see it, suffer it! You wouldn't touch him until we get a mile away!..." Father agreed. Waited holding his youngest son tightly in his hands. At last, his patience ended and he tore his cloth laid him on the ground and bit his thick thigh. The boy cried desperately. At his moment it appeared two mountain goats on top of the mountain! The boy shouted so loudly that his voice went straight and almost pierced the stone underneath the two goats. When father lifted his head to look at the sky, something was rolling down from the acme of "Thousand herd" to right to his side. He waited to find out what it was. You see God's power that the ibex rolled and fell right under the feet of Father. The wild goats with skins peeled and bruised body turned to an evaporating red meat. The Father attached the bit of meat back to its place with his spit and thinking "God gave it" he threw himself at the meat like a hungry wolf. When he satisfied his need told his son to wait him there and ran to the side of Turkistan. He ran so hard that in short reached his wife and two sons. "Our youngest is alive!" he shouted. At that time the Mother stopped. The Father told the event and four of them returned back gladly. They came to brave Kenja, ate meat cooking at fire, placed the remaining into nag and reached Turkistan with its energy. They began all over: Father built a shelter at the outskirt of the city and brought a sack of fur from market, the Mother got onto sawing a sock. Passed from a sock to a vest, then to a carpet. Soon they got rich again. Having had a bitter experience the Father started to live appreciating Turkistan from that time on. He sent one of his three sons to the West, another to the East and the youngest Kenja to Mecca. They studied, saw the world, then returned back home and spread the fame of their country to the world again. The man's youngest son, Zakhiriddin, who has become a'lam (scientific degree of a religious person) in Holy Mecca is our grandfather, your great grandfather, father of powerful Botir, son. My passed away dad has once seen the traces from teeth bit at the thick thigh of the man…
       Kenja grew up and called himself Turkistanian, however, he heard the story for the first time. Moreover, the story regarding his great grandfather! Why has never told the story either his mother or uncles or countrymen, anyone? Have not they known or told even if they knew? Anyway, late, but he heard the story worth rating equally with the tale "Three brave brothers". It was such a balm to his broke soul that he felt reborn. At this time the woman asked:
- What is the time, son?
Kenja rushed to look at his watch.
- Five past four, - then told with sparkling eyes:
- So, you are saying our road difficulties are nothing compared to those of our ancestor, aunt?
- Think what you like, son. It is either a real event or only a tale I told it for you not to be dissatisfied in life. Good or bad those blessed men brought us on the convenient train making our far close. And you want to fight them! All are beggars of good words, son! ("Good word makes a snake come out its nest, bad word makes a Muslim come out his religion" said thinkers!...
       "Ah, aunt, aunt! Don't you see the conscious less of the careless controller? His appearance shows it clearly. For you everybody is good, everybody is worth being blessed. If so, then, where do come bandits from? Thieves and fraudulent? ... "Kenja suppressed a rebellion in his chest and bowed his head obediently before the woman.
- Sorry, aunt! I think, I truly freed my anger earlier. Every time I try "to be heavier, to act with mind", but the nerves … are getting worse day by day!
- When you argue with every mean man, of course, your nerves worsen, my son! Is it possible to insert humaneness by fisting when one lacks it from nature? You harm yourself in result. Merciful God hasn't created you to fight all the unkind men, has he?
At that time the old woman seemed caring to him.
- You are right, aunt! - said smiling meaningfully. - God has created me to work. But most of the time it is impossible to do it. For instance, instead of arguing with you, I would like to take your luggage if you have if not to take you on my head to your son's house.
- There is no need to it! - said a little smiling.
- Usually, a splinter falls into a saved eye, son. Your such care is more needful to the women in Tashkent, who are old not yet turning thirty!
It excited Kenja.
       From a crowd near the building constructed in a western style at the end of the last century separated a guy, a little younger, but fit like a Khojumuqon and walked to them. The old woman walked faster and called gladly.
- Hey, my young boy! - Then started to embrace the guy, who reached her in two large steps. - I'm glad to see you, sunny! It's been a half year I have not seen you! ...
The guy bent his shoulder-blade to the old woman and looked at her worriedly:
- How did you travel? We worried about you!
- Why do you worry, would a wolf eat me! Told the old woman and looked around. She signed to Kenja, who thought inappropriate to leave without saying good bye and was waiting nearby:
- Here, I come speaking with your namesake! By the way, get acquainted, this man is a son of your niece Shakhoday from Qorachiq!
The guy greeted Kenja warmly, and went ahead:
- Come, let's go! You are probably very tired?...
Three of them passed through a draught hall and were walking to the site with rows of cars someone grabbed his arm:
- Oh, brother-in-law, is that you? What brought you to Turkistan?
       Surprisingly, it was his brother-in-law Shokir mercury. Still troubled and impatient like a mercury.
- Here, came! - Kenja told with a slight honor, which was a usual practice in their communication: - Do you go to Tashkent time after time, here we came too!
- Good-good, welcome, - the brother-in-law got troubled for something. - Is Malikakhon well? Children?... So, let's go home, brother-in-law?
- I have to go to Qorachiq, brother! Hey, is our aunt healthy? Are you all right? - Kenja looked at the site without waiting for the answer. At a distance of 10 steps far the old woman and his namesake were looking around concerned by a car.
- You stay here, Shokirvoy! I'll go to say bye to those my acquaintances, - having said that he was heading to the old woman's side, his brother-in-law stopped him:
- While you tell good-bye to them, I'll take my people over two stops, then get back, ok?
       He said "Ok, deal!", and then went toward his acquaintances. The old woman scolded:
- Where did you get lost, son? My eyes were about to become holes looking for you>
- The guy called to his car.
- Come, sit in the car, let's go, brother!
       Kenja placed his hand on his chest with respect:
- Thank you! Be well. People came to meet me as well.
The woman agreed:
- Ok, tell my regards to Shakhodat, son. If God wants, I will visit her soon. - She patted Kenja's shoulder, then say on the seat. The guy nodded his head as a sign of "bye" and shut the door.
       He stood there fixing his eyes on the starry sky. Dear sky! Innocent like a child sky! It is incomparable with Tashkent's sky pure, bottomless and full of shiny stars. There, "seven robbers", there, "Polar star"! It is so bright in Turkistan, how is it in Qorachiq?!
       Meeting his brother-in-law wasn't bad. He was not a burden to that seventy-year old woman anyway, if she had taken him to Qorachiq, it would not have been right! With these thoughts in mind he started to walk back and forth from one corner of the site to another. He admired his brother-in-law's business-like nature. To tell the truth, a dog, a bird gets rest, but this boy never relaxes. Works night and day. He makes busy trips between Turkistan and Tashkent - earns money. He serves tourists - earns money, "waters gypsy's donkey - earns money" in short, he lives happily and deserves it!
       But … where is he now? Why is he so late? Involuntarily looked at his watch: a quarter to five! During this time one can go not only to two bus stops, but can go further! Or did it happen some accident? For example, his car's wheel might let air out…
       His heart contracted watching how cars were decreasing on the lot. There, it left the last car in the corner of the yard. What if he asks him to take him home? He would take as much money as he asks from his brother Qodir and pays him. But at this time probably late-coming tourists, observes, anyway, four teenagers rushed out of the building, walked quickly and got in the car, he was relying on. The car moved ahead dynamically. That is how he left alone in the empty field.
       Kenja's nerves started to tighten again after an hour of relaxation. As he walked from one corner to another, he was about to cry and laugh. He can't believe: "did his brother-in-law fool him like a gypsy? Or did his engine fire?"
It passed five. He made him wait almost an hour, scoundrel! He stood like an eagle prepared to fly. Then a scream erupted like a volcano from deep inside: enough! There is at least an hour until dawn - until cars start moving, what is he standing here like a fool?! If he runs as fast as his legs will carry, he could get home too.
       He made up his mind and he walked fast. Then he got out in the middle of the highway and went without looking back.

Chapter III
       
       Almighty God! Can one not wonder for the people he created with different appearance and soul?! It was never born the taciturn man like Sobir in the world the eldest son in the tale "Three brave brothers". When his younger brothers pile up ten sentences, he makes his mouth ache if tells one. Even if he does, he limits himself to say "yes" or "no". "What is the matter, is he dumb or deaf? - complained his mother. I talk so much, but he says nothing! I think we should have shown the boy's tongue to a doctor, father?" the teacher Zokir waves off and laughs sarcastically: "So be it, mother, quietness also adorns a man. Does one grumble like you?" When alone Qodir teases his brother Sobir: "Come, brother, open your mouth! This Kenja wants to be a doctor when grows up, let him see whether you have a tongue or not!" Kenja climbs on him "Tell A-a, I will see". He doesn't let. Then Qodir twists brother's arms and bends him to Kenja. Kenja hangs on his neck. The eldest brother left confined by his brothers mumbled protesting: "Release me by good" this makes brother Sobir angry and he slaps into their faces.
       Qodir is totally opposite of his brother. This one is as much talkative and communicative as the other one is silent. He persuades like a snake. He doesn't calm down until cuts off his bit. In childhood he had a terrible desire. He used to grab brothers' shares. Mother always scolded. "Hey boy, do you have a snake inside or something? Greed is not good", she used to say. But Qodir didn't listen to her. Inconspicuous to his parents he made his brothers run into woe, got all credits and came dry out of water. He is still that Qodir… So tedious, annoying, deceptive, adventurer… But, one must admit, he is so skillful one can't describe. Kenja learned to work from his brother Sobir and father. But all the pranks like flying a kite making a paper headdress, instigate a dog and a cat to fight, tie a pail to a tail of cat he learned from his active brother.
       It is hard for one to evaluate his character. Anyway, it is a fact, like people say, an apple takes color from another apple Kenja grew up learning equally from both brothers. Lived trying to acquire all virtues of his brothers. And always felt like he left in difficulty. He likes his brother Sobir. But his quietness irritates him. He feels sorry for brother's inability for anything but hard work. It is impossible not to be delighted at brother Qodir's aptitude. However, he feels anxious about his sly intentions behind every unique action. He has always been fearful of his tricks. It seems he is going not on a plain road but between two fires. He is hardly proceeding. What has happened to his dear Mother? Because such tortures began not yesterday, but thirty years ago…
From a long time the grassy steppes of Turkistan were covered with "field princess" (corn). The wheat became less and bread was scarce. At first sight the corn and its flour seemed enough. But his mother moaned: "Is it going to start a starvation again? Wealthy can't get wheat flour. At home children can't satisfy their hunger with buns made out of corn flour. The boundless corn field attracts people like a magnet. But almost every stem of corn is protected by a guard! Try to enter - you will see. But bread is tasty, what can you do if not enter!
It was as clear as it is not. At one moment brother Qodir pinched Kenja's rib to wake him. Brother Sobir stood half awake not far away. They went together.
- Walk faster. Be careful, don't let mom wake up! - he whispers into his ear. At last Qodir announces a plan:
- We will enter the corn field, fumble the bigger stems and carry them out. If we collect three sacks, still better than nothing! We will enjoy a whole week.
       The plan appealed to Kenja. His brother Qodir's head works well! When mom sees the three sacks of stems in the morning, she will be glad!
       "The job" started well. It was Ok not to mention the dangerous noise of corns. But when they carried sacks full of corns out… the guard Ismat was standing in front on the horse. "Aha! Gotcha!" then recognized and wondered: "Oh. Are you sons of Zokir? Father - truthful, children - thieves! It is interesting!" the man ordered strictly: "All three of you, take your sacks and let's go!" Kenja cries from fear. Qodir tries to flee. Sobir keeps silent… For short, guard Ismat waved his stick over them, made them lift their sacks, brought them to the warehouse and locked in the adjacent dark room. "Here at this place eat unripe what you have got!" said he and locked them in.
       "The three brave brothers" spent the rest night in tremble and suffer. "What now? What are their teachers going to say? What about mother? What about father, who scolds one even for a little playfulness!" Brother Sobir, who is going to go to the tenth grade after a month, rocked like a lion in the cage. "I am the fool to listen to Qodir!" said he fisting his chest. Then beats Qodir "You started all this!" Kenja is nervous unable to separate them. Beaten up Qodir smiles unpleasantly near narrow opening" It is an adventure!" he consoles them or himself…
       At the dawn guard Ismat opens the door, enters and talks loudly to Sobir: "Hey, the eldest of nervous Zokir! Probably you misdirected your little brothers and started all this affair! Now you stay here! Unless your righteous dad comes to beg to release you, you remain here. Then took a generous look at Qodir and Kenja: "You two are free!" The eldest brother leaves at the place, and they return home. But neither Sobir nor Qodir nor Kenja told to the guard Ismat" No, it is the wrong man to blame. Can't tell! It keeps, being secret the next day, when father brings Sobir home fisting his shoulder. For thirty years Kenja recalls it sometimes laughing, sometimes with a concern he has been delighted with Qodir's skillfulness, and Sobir's generosity. When father returned to the neighbor village again that night for "clay game" (making items from clay) and three of them lied on the large wooden bed counting stars his mother narrated the tale "Three brave brothers" who knows on which time and drew the conclusion: "The animals the three brothers killed are not just lion, dragon, forty robbers, my children! They first of all won their own lion of anger, dragon of appetite and forty soul vices. And you? You made a theft and let that dishonest man criticize your father! Is this what I hoped from you, my courageous sons?!"
       Yes, at that time the game ended badly. It was so bad that true and false details reached the school and put his father Zokir in great trouble. Think yourselves, how one can stand if the educator is told "Look at you, you couldn't even manage your sons, and you lecture us?!"
       No, no! it is not the reason for dad's sudden death! Lecturer Zokir's endurance had experienced many such ordeals and persisted many of them. There Kenja is a witness, father suffered a lot at that time, it is true, but he didn't give up. He lived several years after that out of spit to some people. And lived releasing his anger at work! Probably what devastated him completely was that "unexpected luck" - the sudden luck happened to the people of Qorachiq precisely twenty five years ago!
At that time Kenja was studying on the eighth grade. His brother Sobir was a farmer, brother Qodir had just returned from a military service. In the height of winter it snowed so strongly that not only children but also grown ups were unable to walk in streets. Dad and three sons were busy clearing roof and front yard all day long. The next day it stood freezing cold that it could kill a donkey! When they came out in the morning after one day, hundreds of mouflons were running around in search of shelter! Kenja still remembers clearly: the thick snow as high as children's necks - white, the mouflons - also white! This double whiteness glimmered under the just rising sun rays and made eyes strain. Long and short, yellowish and brownish, curly, countless horns resembled tiny sail floating in a white sea with a slight shake. Only the black-brown "stains" (mouflons' snouts) of fist's size located two feet below these horns witness they were not miracle in a white sea, but live animals, who tried to survive. The strong guys of the village hurried side to side loudly brandishing knives in their hands and pulling sledges. They catch these animals and onto the white snow. The guy takes his prey to his sledge, loads it, and then rushes to capture the next one. The more dense "tulips" got on the snow the higher the piles of prey became on the sledges. As Kenja watched the unbelievable event occurring in front of him with wonder, his father emerged near spectators. The sick father, who lied moaning near the sill a little while ago, oh God, ran around like a ghost grabbing knife holders one after another and shouting with a hoarse voice at them: "Conscienceless! Blood-thirsty! Executioners! Do you know what you are doing?! Better stab yourselves, you villains! ... "He got tired after much running and weakened in the middle of field. He and his brother Sobir barely lifted unconscious father and carried him into house. Father whimpered embracing a pillow. Raves whether in conscious or in his dream: "Run, mouflons!... Right on top of Qoratov Mountain … someone again… scolded Turkistan … Oh, mouflons… My animal, who came in search of shelter from wolves!... Will the country recover again?!..."
       On that day in all houses of Qorachiq the meat was boiled all day long. The tasty, well-cooked meat made sick even the most insatiable man. Neighbors laughed at the hunter Bashir's words of becoming an exhaler of bad odor out of eating too much. Later it became Bashir's favorite saying: "I hunted precisely forty mouflons, little brother! We had great pleasure then! Ate it by freezing, by drying, but it didn't' end. The last part even got spoiled. It was good that I had turned half of it into the farm" In that year the collective farm "Pobeda" (Russian for victory, not "Galaba" in Uzbek) exceeded the plan of supplying government with meat for five times. It was truly pobeda!
       Thanks to brother Qodir's smartness the house of teacher Zokir wasn't left out from the sudden donation on "the day, when scones fell from the sky" whether the treatment of the village doctor helped or the soul wasn't needed like Qodir's soul, in two days father regained consciousness. After finding out about the whole thing, he called brother Qodir to himself, fisted his shoulder cursing "Oqpadar" (the son denied by his father) how hard the strike of ill father would be to twenty years old fit guy it is like a bite of a mosquito! But the words of mother told in defense of her son: "Calm, father, are we the only ones who are eating mouflon's meat?" were too much. Father moaned: "Ok, if it relates to many, don't part from many! But I … have parted … tired … I have five days to live or not! But you will know it when these greedy boys make problems to you…"
       A week later father as mother told "recovered by God's mercy" … got lost! Where, how did he get lost, is a big man a needle to get lost no one knew. What they knew was when they got up in the morning the bed near next to the table was empty! Mother wept desperately. Three brothers and uncles searched all the outskirts of the village went to Koriz, to Signoq even over to Qizilyol. He was absent like sunk into the water. But after two days his dead body was found on the way of Qoratov. Later as his elder uncle told over and over again in wonder, he lied embracing the ground at the slope of Khontov.
       He will likely never forget that terrible day! When he returned home tired not from Khontov, but from Signoq his mother hanged on his neck sobbing: "We lost your father, son! What will happen to us, Kenja!"  Brother Sobir was sitting gloomy at the threshold. Brother Qodir fists his chest and cries.
Now, can you guess this secret, pal? Why did you father, teacher Zokir die? Did he die his own death? Or as mother days, "the death brought him to the way of Qoratov"? Maybe he was tired of living? Or… someone like guard Ismat - robber Ismat killed him? No, you can't find reasonable answers to these questions, fellow! Because you… think you are standing on top of Qoratov, but in reality you wander in some ditch and dugouts. Who knows, you may bite the ground at the robust age of father, may wither on half way!... You are helpless, Kenja! You are hapless and unskillful! Didn't you get on the highway due to your sour destiny!...
When he passes the last barrier - Shortepa, then the cemetery at the bottom of the hill, where his father teacher Zokir and his grandfather strongman Botir rest, comes to his dear village…
       He was going along the clay wall of the cemetery and stopped when the car, going from up, came up to him. The door opened and the owner showed up.
- Get in, brother, I will drop you by.
Kenja rushed into the car and sat back:
- Thank you, brother!
Companion took a look at him:
- Is everything all-right, brother? You are going so early as though the world is in fire.
Kenja relaxed when noticed sincerity in the guy's eyes and felt disposition to joke:
- Stroll, brother, stroll!...
- To Otaboy?
- No, I will get off … in this Qorachiq…
- Simply asked … Then you are from the village of hermit Qarnoqiy?
- Who is he?
- What, being from Otaboy … you haven't read "Ulugbek's treasure"?
       Then cried when noticed they were passing by the house of his neighbor, a chair old man Akhmad:
- Hey! Could you stop here?
       The car stopped right next to the house.
       He ran towards house without saying goodbye. He swiftly opened the door at the left wing of veranda and stopped a while. Far in the room his mother and nephew were sleeping peacefully. Leaned against the wall out of sudden weakness. It came out a thought from the bottom of his heart - Thank you, God!
Mother woke up scared. Seeing her son she quickly got up and strived for him. Kenja made two large steps and hugged his mother, who was shaking on her knees:
- Thanks God, you are fine! - then he released her a little from his embrace and fixed his teary eyes - What happened, mom?
       She seemed not to hear him and stood crying and stroking her face:
- What happened, mother?
There was still no answer and on her wrinkled face the tears increased and accelerated. It scared him:
- What happened to you, mom? Speak!
       Mother wanted to tell something, but couldn't. she shouted as loud as she could:
- Khikmat! Khikmat! Get up!
       Khikmat got up sleepily.
- What happened to your grandmother?!
       Khikmat recognized him and hanged on his neck with a cry:
- Uncle! Grandmother… lost her speech!
- What?!
- She has been unable to speak for four days!
- Oh God? Where is your father?!
       Khikmat hardly replied coping with his sob:
- In jail … hum…
- In jail? How about uncle Qodir?
- Uncle is … ill… humm…
- Oh goodness! What happened to my brother?!
- My father … chopped with an ax … hum…
- What?! Is there anyone in this house, who hasn't lost speech?! Where is your mother?!
       Khikmat ran out:
- I will be back… hum…
- Call, quickly!!
       Kenja lifted mother, who was crying on his shoulder and put her on her seat, then knelt down nearby. A strong roar erupted from his deep heart like a volcano:
- What happened to you, mom?! What lightning did strike the house? What a God's curse did fall upon the house?!
       He weakened and fell on his side. In his mind the whole world started to spin around at his eyes.

Chapter IV

       Three of them were climbing onto the peak of mountain. The peak high, the mountain - enormous, the way - difficult. Ahead - his brother Sobir, behind - his little brother - Botir and in the middle - himself. One after another they jumped from a stone to another like deers. But how would he look at the steps of his clumsy brother. Since the aim is to get to the peak can't he just leave him behind? Suddenly, it appeared a good chance and he climbed onto to abrupt cliff. As he left both his brother and the cliff behind and clutched at the next rock, the brother, who came around, told:
- Turn back from the dangerous rod, little brother! Where do you rush to when there is a pass built by our ancestors?
       He didn't want to return:
- Ok, go around yourselves! - said he and clang to the rock with more effort, but all of a sudden, one of his legs grew heavier and pulled down. When he hardly looked down saw his brother dragging.
- Turn back from the hazardous way, brother! Ok, you lead, but get back from such ways! - begged his brother.
- The reversible way is a present to you, brother! For me even it is risky this way is short. Leave me alone!
       Brother kept drawing as though he did not hear. It annoys him. When he concentrated his weight onto his two hands and placed his freed leg on brother's face, something pricked his spades like an arrow. His hands weakened and he started to slide down. It seemed he was falling into an abyss…
He couldn't know where he was lying at. Anyway, it is for sure it is still penetrated. It is even impossible to move not speaking about straightening up from the intense pain. What he saw, when opened his eyes, was the pitch black. Barely turned his head and stared around. Then his glance set at the window and quickly understood: he had been lying here for three days with his face down!
       The torment he suffered during these three days! The left hand lain still like dead! If moves slightly the pitiless pain inflicting his whole body! The worst of all - keep lying without motion! Where did all the misfortunes come to his head from?! For the skilled man, who used to solve hard puzzles easily and come whole out of big ordeals, is it easy to keep lying on the ground? He has lived for forty four years in this bright world, run forcefully for thirty years being able to his a star without a ladder and is this where he arrived?! What is the reason, who is to blame for this accident? For which writing is this punishment? All his life dependent on friend and mockery to enemy, struggles for "himself, his children", never ever wished bad to anyone, never did wrong to anyone, then what is this mistake? Is his guilt to think it is shameful for the guy to lead average life, to want to live better than many? Is this a sin?!
       Indeed, he tended to live ahead of others. Like a speedy horse in Kupkari (a horse contest to take a lamb out of field) he wanted to see vast plain rather living things before his eyes. He couldn't become calm until he outran others. Easy to say he has lived exactly one should live happily since he comes into this world with hope if he can! Not to budge like insects dishonoring human dignity!...
       Recalls, there was a strange game in childhood, which he invented himself. In this game named "Camel walks and caravan passes" brother Sobir often was camel, brother used Botir - leader and he was an owner. Qodir used to have fun sitting on Sobir's shoulders, beating Botir with a twig and making both of them leap.
- Hay, damn you game! - mother cursed them sometimes. - What is the behavior, what kind of game is this? I'm afraid one day your game could harm you.
One day their game didn't flame, but father saw the game. At that time he didn't scold like mother. On the contrary he watched joyfully for a while. When Qodir slid off brother's shoulders with fear he shook his head and laughed bitterly:
- If you go like this you won't be a boy, but a bad boy. You will become someone!
       Were these words a condemnation or a recognition, a blame or a praise - it was hard to tell. One thing is sure; he felt incredible power in himself. Such power that if he wants he can ride not only his brother but also his father!
       When time arrived the power showed itself he was class leader in his class, comsomol at school, head among friends. There were many compliments of his teachers like "You will be head to something" he earned golden medal, which had just been becoming popular, only himself among three brothers and the first at school. Having finished the school he was aiming Tashkent Polytechnic University, father dissuaded him: "Now put the study aside, and learn a trade, son! You will prosper from trade, told my dad!"  ... "Ok, let it be!" told and studied at the driving course for six months. When he was going to have a car he was called to the military service. Spent two years at the coast of the Japanese sea - at the harbor Nakhodka. He went to the service as an ordinary soldier - returned as starshina, in plain words, the old man. During these two years, in addition to the Russian language, he learned Japanese language from his foreign acquaintance so well that he could teach specialists of Japanese language! If it were his will he would have gone to Tokio and achieved the most beautiful girl, but the country borders were stronger than the Great Chinese Wall! He went to the border and turned back not being able to get over it.
       When he returned from the service, not only his short house, mild brothers, simple-hearted countrymen, but also his father and all Turkistan seemed miserable to him. He couldn't fit duppi-sized (duppi - national Uzbek headdress) Qorachiq, moreover, the whole Turkistan. In addition, in that year it was so cold, it snowed so hardly that one couldn't step out of the threshold! Furthermore, his dad became ill and lied in bed. How could he pull the piece of meat, which could recover his suffering body out of the bloodthirsty mouth of dragon and drop into the pot! Honestly, you want to cry when you see yourself poor and pitiful! Is this how one should live?! Where are the herd of sheep, horses and camels left from his granddad Botir just yesterday?... Could the slim goat in the cattle-shed, whose door has been hard to close back once, opened, relieve the half soul of the sick man? How is it?! On the heavenly Turkistan land … what kind of life is this?!
       In these writhing, anxious times of him, the village was covered with mouflons just like locusts. No, you think it is pancakes fallen from the sky! Watching how his countrymen were collecting share-come-with-it-own-legs in an attempt to compete others, his blood in the vessels started to heat up. In hand - knife, in eyes - blood, he ran into the field. "Here, the time came to be the lead of the village!: said to himself. Despite his effort, he couldn't be the head of the village at that time. The lamb went with their neighbor hunter Bashir. Later when they counted, the number of his prey was less than that of the hunter Bashir for only two!" So what if there were two less, he consoled himself that he can find until Bashir's age. That is fine, but his father's scolding "Ungrateful", moreover, beating after he restored his strength eating the delicious soup with the mouflon's meat boiled softly!... He can bear the fisting, but how could he bear cursing?! What is his fault? Is his fault - not to sit still like a fool? Is this his sin, his ungratefulness!
       He can endure it somehow. There was a hope that it would be forgotten when in close future he forgives him. But father's sudden death became a great woe to the family. In addition to the woe the burden of parting as well as the fallen mountain of funeral! Poor looks of his brothers Sobir and Botir in the empty house! How can one persist such misfortunes?! Do the lecturer Zokir's funerals - third, seventh, twentieth, fortieth, annual pass poorly? What do people, friends and enemies say? Is not it a death to three brothers?!
       Wasn't his "ungratefulness" a sooth to his "short-handed" mother's and "empty-handed" brothers' sore souls at that time? It was good that he had taught Uzbek to that foreigner, for which he had learned Japanese and gotten a new VCR with some Japanese songs. It was good that he had sold it to hunter Bashir and gotten rid of the title "the owner of the first VCR in village". His money served well and he breathed lighter.
       At that time they conducted forties of his dad, sent brother Sobir to Chochqakol for work, sent brother Botir to school and left alone with his mother in large, empty house. In the mourning ceremonies is it easy to stare at mother's eyes all day long? On the forty first day he also put on his ton (robe). "Was there any good from idling!... I should get a job: he said and came up to the chairman. Without beating around the bush he went straight to the point:
- So, let us drive a car in your time, brother?!
       The chairman felt disturbed at his seat:
- How can I find a car to everyone? There, go to Chochqakol to join your brother. Here, stack bricks in Qizilkoprik, there, a shepherd is needed! ... you granddad has been cowboy?!
       Qodir didn't let himself down:
- Pardon me, brother! - said he laughing bitterly. - Thanks God, I have gotten beautiful trade of my own! I have learned in Turkistan for six months. I have spent the military service poking small and large cars. Let me tell you, I can turn guts of any car out. In short, you give me a car even it is broken, brother!
The chairman relaxed a bit and shrugged his shoulders:
- If it were possible I would love to, brother, what should I do, I don't have a car even if there were, it would need to be greased! The car doesn't move if not greased. You will waste you time!"
       He returned from the office losing his hope. On the way he consoled himself. What to do, if there is not, then there is not! Even if there were, you couldn't take it with force if he doesn't give! If not in Qorachiq, then there the largest car is in Turkistan! He has the trade in his hands, the document in his pocket, maybe he will find there… When he was passing by his house, he encountered the hunter Bashir. Who knows maybe he has been waiting on purpose the rogue smiled unpleasantly when say him from far. Having greeted, started to speak:
- I see the "video" is a good thing, he, Qodirboy! You know, the high-ranking people, who didn't come even if I called them, have become frequent visitors to my house! You earned a good to yourself, brother! It was really good you have brought and given it to me! So, where from? ...
       Qodir grew angry:
- From the chairman's office… I went in search of job; he didn't give a car…
- You didn't make the way of getting, good boy! - hunter Bashir tapped his shoulder and smiled meaningfully. - There is a way of everything! Didn't you grease his mouth?
He looked wondering at hunter Bashir:
- Who knows, brother! I've heard the new one cost a thousand.
- Ok, good, it is cheap, affordable to buy, - he said at that day, but thought long at home. It didn't remain mot a thousand, but even a hundred from the VCR's money. What should he do? Whom should he beg? If he only could find five hundred, he would take an older one. On the other hand, it seems Bashir wants to mediate. If he finds a free car from Turkistan… is it easy to work in the city! ...
Next day he went to Chochqakol to say "hi" to his brother Sobir. In between conversation asked:
- Can you find five hundred, brother?
- What do you do with it?
       He was irritated by the question: "I'll die with it! I'll cook and eat it! It is needed, therefore I am asking. He could say "yes" or "no" without questioning!"
- I need, brother!
- What for?
- Want to buy the state's car! Satisfied?
- Say better "I'll bribe the chairman", - brother Sobir smiled bitterly. Moreover, lectured him: - Leave, don't step to a dangerous road, brother! Instead, my advice - do watering with me.
- No, I'll drive a car! - said nervously. - I'll buy for cheap and sell for high price! I've got a trade, I've got a license!... Tell me, can you find it? Don't worry, I'll pay back tripled! He regretted when saw his brother kept silence. His effort was in vain! He shouldn't have asked! He is the brother he has known! Unable to hurt a fly. At this moment he hated good people. One can not eat the goodness nor sell it! You can't buy a car for goodness! No, he will be a bad man! He will be such a bad man that all will fear him. No one could trample him down! ...
       He told furiously:
- Ok, fine, I'll look for the debt for someone else. But I'll drive a car for sure, brother! That is it! I'll buy it even if for gold!
       Brother Sobir told "Wait a minute" and went hastily in the house. After a short while he came out with the debt probably taken from his step-father Ismat:
- Here, brother, do what you want! But be careful!...
- Leave it to me, brother! - teased Qodir. - It is only the lousy car, I'll buy the chairman in the future!
       Thanks to the "disinterested service" of Bashir hunter he got old car after three days. You will spend a lot to fix something old. Anyway, exactly in two weeks he signaled the car before the home. In the dusk Botir ran out. Sitting slanted in the cabin he ordered his little brother:
- Bring the ax, the ax! We will see brother Sobir and take some haloxylon. On our way back.
       From that day on he started the job with great enthusiasm. He's made the "purchased car" run for eight hours for the collective farm, and for eight hours for his own benefit. He's taken presents from those who saw the car for the fist time and fare from clients. He revived during the harvest. From every load of his car with wheat he dropped two sacks to his house. True, he could have taken more. But forefathers have told the wealth comes with conscience. The wheat is food and its straw will bring lots of money! Selling one car of the wheat by 50 he provided the hundreds of houses in Turkistan. When exactly three months passed he returned the thousand promised to brother Sobir, placed a thousand into his little brother Botir's pocket, who was going to study, spent ten to get the VCR back from Bashir hunter and only after that he paused for breath. Has the head of garage complained, don't know, at this time the chairman called him.
- You boy, why don't you put your car in garage? What is the matter?!
       He laughed:
- I have bought this obsolete car of yours for my fair money, brother! The Poor's property should stand in his sight! ...
       The chairman bewildered and whispered nervously:
- Qui-e-et! - then made an enemy look: - It seems right that you chicken have become full! Should I pull you feather?!
       Qodir changed his treatment:
- If I have sinned, forgive me, brother, - said he and placed his hand on his chest. At one he took a roll
of ten soums from his pocket: - So, brother, this is the "oil" for the new car. However, the old one suits me as well. Should not that yellow goat be glad for my repairing the worthless item in the garage and driving it!...
       The anger of the chairman softened now and turned into the form of mere threat:
- Watch yourself, boy! Don't make me think of the old one too much for you!
- Ok, brother, ok! - he came out with clasped hands and got to work again. He should find the way to cover the lost money. What is lost is lost, forget it, one should make a charity. The money is so - the dirt of hand, it is washed off, but … is the driver a driver without greasy hands! True to his promise he didn't overstep his limit, but in the time of harvest he went beyond the borders of Turkistan district, Chimkent province, moreover, Kazakhstan. The business he started with delivering a car full of tomato and selling it wholesale in Qizilorda, he temporarily terminated at the beginning of winter by transporting a car full of pear to Novosibirsk. Most people in the city saw the "pear" for the first time in the lives, having tasted they have bought up like bumble-bees attached to a honey. When he returned from the trip, he put a roll of tens before his brother and pushed him:
- Clear the way, brother, move away! There, I give you three months period! During these three
months try to get married otherwise I will get married myself!
       His brother got married, but he didn't rush to marry. He has just turned twenty one and going to twenty two. It is early! Moreover, he has traveled a lot from Qorachiq to Sobir and seen a number of pretty girls, but no one turned him on. Even if he meets, will the pretty girl respect the uneducated cart driver, he doesn't know it. It is probably unlikely to pay attention! Therefore, until then he should enter a college at least by correspondence! Having studied all winter he came back from Chita at the beginning of summer. He wrote a letter to the chairman requesting him to give his three years' vacation at one and added a bunch of twenty fives:
- I have finished working so far, brother! Let me study as well!
       Either the addition softened his heart or maybe he thought "Hopefully the vigorous guy will fly to other places and he will get rid of him forever", anyway, despite his animosity he easily gave him a consent. He went straight to Turkistan - to the house of head of a village economical department, with whom he had gotten acquainted roughly a year ago. At one of their parties he has boasted a lot "A half of Olmaota is in my hand! That is my brother, this is my uncle", where should he go if not to him? He doesn't need a half of Olmaota! It is enough the only one place at correspondence section of the village economic college!
       Whether his boasts have been real or his money helped him or he knew agricultural vehicles enough, anyway, in the same year he came back after entering the college. However, he didn't have a chance to drive a new car the chairman had prepared for him. He found out the old goat had left the work. His position was vacant. He took advantage of it to occupy the position with the help of money and ties. "The end - he thought to himself. He is tired from running like a dog. From now on he will sit at a place and earn money with his mouth blow". True, the chairman probably has thought "The guy should be under my hands", he asked him to be his driver. But he smoothly slipped out the trap: "It is little to carry you on my head, buy what should I do; I have studies two times a year? Sending me to the study, do you want to leave at foot? Please, trust me the garage, I will improve it? You will be glad. There is something!" - he said. Indeed, it has developed so much! ... A half of hundred cars were of no use. He gave directions to his students and added them to the row. The drivers were made very obedient to him. He taught them to his hand. The drivers have been instructed so well that no one would leave the garage in the morning without giving one "Lenin"! When they give, they give it with pleasure! All they want is the four wheels to roll. When he sorted out the works of the garage, sitting in his office he made estimation. Eh! For two years he has been tormenting himself by running like a squirrel! It is possible to earn five hundreds a day on average without putting one's hand under cold water. Ok, let's say one or two hundreds will be spent! The rest three hundreds! ... It is the combined salary of two strong teachers like his father! The retail sales of spare parts don't count towards this sum, certainly. The head of garage is so! Then you can imagine the state of chief accountant or engineer, and other "chiefs". And the chairman? He does not explode from overfeeding! So, how about those at district committee? Province committee? Do they eat a whole camel and not show its tail or do they give its tail?! Who is the first eater, the greatest profiteer? Which of the "heads"?! Isn't it the chief secretary, by chance?!
       He hardly calmed his aroused lungs. Look where the twenty-two old guy studying at the first course is and the thin-browed chief secretary is who is sitting in the "heart of the Native land"! He better look at his capacity. Try to be a head to a department of the small village economy first! Like the yellow goat he should not put all his five fingers into his mouth (exaggerate, take liberties)! The elders say "be damned what the unseen sees". It is no good to scare all so soon. See, his ancestors have seen. Maybe, they haven't seen like these. If God wishes, he will see how it is being chief engineer and other "chiefs"! Everything has its time. Until then should he go through the street of his desires instead of tying himself with retail trade and petty troubles of the passing world?
       When he looked attentively, simultaneously three streets of desire became visible to him vividly: for the beginning let him be the second after the chairman in the village. He should get a "Jiguli", which has been spreading in the district. Then he will find the sweetheart, who suits his soul. At last, there he is going to twenty three; he shouldn't keep searching the metal someone has created and INVENT SOMETHING!
       Suddenly it appeared a chance to walk through all three roads: "Jiguli" of the chairman was broken, he was irritated unable to fix it, he called him to his office and requested: "You should restore it somehow, brother! Let's see your ability! …" During his search of the "guts of rare horse" in the village, suddenly his brain started to work better than his arms. He patiently explained one corner of his plan to the chairman: "It broke down such a part that it is necessary to fetch from the plant, brother! Give me a permit, I will get an impossible? …"
       Putting the permit into checkbook, first he headed to Tashkent. In the dormitory his brother Botir was buried into books. He showed him a restaurant and strengthened his belly. Sat at the flier and flew. In two days he placed the "unobtainable" into the glove compartment of his new "Jiguli" and sat at the steering wheel. Those, who received money from his walk and his hands, were glad to see this black-eyed progressive man off like someone who was more generous than Kuwait prince. He decided to travel to Moscow, "The heart of the county". Having seen the city and loading all purchased items into the car, he set out on his journey back to Turkistan seeking "Where are you Turkistan's Qorachiq?". When he was leaving Moscow, his eyes rested on the cutie with burning hairs and straight body, who was softly waving her delicate hand at the edge of the road, saying "He is me". He stopped unintentionally. It became known she needed to get to Saratov and was in a hurry for a wedding. He invited her to the vacant seat next to him: "Would you like me to get you to Saratov flying? …" In a little while, he asked pretending to be careless:
- Whose wedding are you in such a hurry? Yourselves?
His new car was filled with laugh as pure as a clink of glasses:
- What are saying! It is early for me to get married!
- Really? - asked Qodir. Started to tell with keen interest the story he had heard before: In the past,
when invaders chased after innocent girls on a horse, they used to hit them with their big hats. If the girl flies like the hat - she didn't mature, if keeps riding the horse - she is considered to be matured. One can marry the girl.
       The girl turned out to be cheerful: she understood the joke and replied properly:
- You are an invader, I think? But … where is your hat? You are without headdress!
- It shows that I am not an invader, but getter. At most a tiger. Or getter and flyer or getter and
runaway!
- I don't want to believe for some reason. From your words, you don't look like an invader!
       He sees that the girl is taking the joke seriously. Is it the time to be serious! Turning the wheel, he
changed the tone of conversation: 
- How should I honor you, my sole companion?
       The girl got the joke right again, but the surface meaning:
- Vera. Why?
- I can't believe it! - Qodir frowned deceitfully.
- Why?
- You will be Vera when you believe I am not an invader!
       It seemed the girl got the joke in direct meaning and smiled innocently:
- Ok. Now I start to believe… What is your name?
- Do you want original or translation?
- What do you mean?
- The thing is I am Qodir, that is, Powerful!
       The beautiful companion combed her blond hair and laughed cheerfully.
- Really! And what can you do!
- Of course, not omnipotent. However, can do many things! - he stroke the iron while it is hot. - For example, I can take you directly to Turkistan with me!
       The girl was tough as well, she responded with a good joke:
- You think, it is relatively cheaper, huh?
       No, she is not simply tough, she is very hard! In addition to her question, she added such an anecdote, you hear such things seldom! During war it was formed a special regiment out of Uzbeks. The commander saw that Uzbeks were unwilling to fight. In order to motivate them he announced an unbelievable condition: "Every fascist's corpse will be bought at ten soums". Soon, there were dead fascist bodies everywhere. Such an incredible fight bewildered the commander. He had to lower the price: "Now every dead body will be purchased at five soums". The soldiers were unsatisfied with it. When the commander asked the reason, one told it frankly: "We ourselves buy each dead body at seven soums!"
       True, it is a bit insulting anecdote! But it has a deep meaning. It seems, not only her beauty is worth being delighted, buy also her intelligence? The saying that pretty girls be dumb is wrong, or what! Anyway, she seems the girl with delicate taste, good sense of humor, with whom one can speak. If you show her what Uzbeks are capable of apart from trade, maybe, she will understand it too? Doesn't she really have any flaws?!
       The thorough revision of the girl until Saratov witnessed that she didn't have defect in her look, her mind, her descendants and her lifestyle! Right, it is said "flawless is only God". But the girl was an angel, how much he didn't look for he couldn't find a little stain. Her father - the commander of Turkistan military forces in Tashkent, her mother - the vice president of minister of foreign affairs in Moscow, her aunt - the first secretary of Comsomol committee in Saratov, herself - a first course student in Moscow! At the center of the city there stands their grandiose house and on its yard there stand "Chayka" and "Mercedes" cars! Why was she walking at the bus stop at the outskirt of Moscow? Did she want to see him? Right! You found whom to fool! You are only seventeen year old girl, if your father walks on the branch of a tree; I walk on its leave (I am smarter than him)! You will tell the tale to your Ivanushka the fool. But he didn't let out the secret. Leaving the girl near Comsomol Committee as she wanted, he continued his way phoning the numbers he had taken from her. He just wanted to check his suspicion. Oh God! His strange suspicions prevented him from catching firmly the bird of fortune! Indeed, her father - Peter Ivanovich Vladimirov, the commander of Turkistan military forces, her mother - Anastasia Borisovna Vladimirova, the first secretary of Union's minister of foreign affairs, herself - Vera Petrovna Vladimirovna, a student of the main university of the country! She meant when said "If you don't believe me, ask!"? He had told Vera he would be glad to help her parents anytime, but he got disappointed at his simplemindedness. He even thought "What if I return from Qizilorda to Saratov?" No, it is against his will! He will never go to someone begging or with bowed head. If it is true that she liked him, she will find him herself. Even then he will keep his dignity high. He will build the future palace not by means of someone else's hands, but with his own hands!
       As he entered Qorachiq, he felt pleasant satisfaction in his entire body. During the journey be it not three, but two birds were hit: he got the car and met who he had been looking for. Now he should walk through the third road of his soul - INVENT something.
       In Qorachiq what can one invent other than the second "Jiguli"? Is it possible to invent at all? He wished his invention to be so miraculous that would surprise not only that beauty but also her parents!
       He has thought for a week and came up with such a wonderful idea that even the inventor of the plant near the river Edil will never dream of: not going far he can develop the "Jiguli"! Let's say, if he attaches a propeller to its forehead and folding wings to both sides, then with the help of special devices he can connect them to the engine and the steering wheel and make it lighter, will it fly then? Why it is flying on the ground, but won't in the sky? In the tales there are horses with wings, which can fly both on earth and in the sky! In the age of turning to reality of so many tales, what if the tale will also become a reality? It is fine if the car can't fly to Moscow, even to Turkistan, but it is enough for it to fly around in Qorachiq!
       Is it possible to accomplish his intention in Qorachiq? Looking for an opportunity he went to his relative engineer Ernazar Ruzimatov's work at repair-mechanics plant in Turkistan. He saw that at the plant only the equipments, which move on the ground, were repaired. However, the man gave a good advice: "At the tractor plant in Tashkent, there is my countryman, who rules there. If you go to him, he might help you" He went. It was a man named Mirzaakhmedov. In the yard of the plant there were many items. All of them were designed not to fly, even to go, but to crawl. The man also gave a good advice. His father worked as a chairman's first secretary at the Cabinet of Ministers, he called him: "A guy from Turkistan's Qorachiq … came to ask a help … his dreams are in the sky! Can you help him?" His father's assistance was that he sent him to Tashkent Airplane Company and to some military unit. The company was so dreadful. He liked the military unit. He explained his ideas to an inventor drawing on the paper: "I would like to make such a horse. If I construct, will it fly?" The inventor mocked him: "A horse flies only in tales. It will not fly even in dostons!" Qodir grew stubborn: "It is my job to make what doesn't fly in doston to fly in life! Your job is to explain me how helicopter operates and to give me old parts sent to refining!" He loaded a truck with metal and returned to Turkistan. Half of it was unloaded at repair plant, and the rest half at the garage. He got to work with full energy: he cut, sawed, flattened, connected, adjusted, in short, in three months his idea took a concrete tangible form. At a turn of key, his horse opened its wings and its propellers started to rotate. In short, if he turns the key - it goes, turns once again - it stops! "If I can't make it fly, I will change my nick Uchar (Flyer)!" - promised to himself. He found it more appropriate to test it at night than at daytime: at deep night he went onto the broad way, which goes through the village. He speeded up his car. First he made it fly on the ground. When "Aris - Turkistan" channel was seen like a ribbon from far away, he said "Bismillo, oh Prophet David! ..." and turned the key once again. On two sides the two wings unfolded loudly. It slowly lifted up from the land. In his thought he flew aiming directly at Khazrat Sulton. First he flew above Birlik, then above Ishtikhon. Making three flights around the mosque, he went back. Slowly flew down, passing the channel he turned the key back when the wheels smoothly touched the ground. The wings folded loudly. The wheels started to roll at one speed…
       At that night he could not sleep until the morning. Can it be true what he invented?! Did he reach the Truth indeed?! Who should he tell the news? In general, should he tell it? Or is it better to conceal it?
       He chose the second way …
       … To be honest, he is tired of lying still. The only consolation for the last three days - he just dived into his deep and dense layer of his thoughts! His sleeps turned off completely. It looks like the deep night of that day? He couldn't reach and look at the clock! He couldn't think as freely as that day! Oh well, at the moment he doesn't have other choice but lie in the bed and immerse into the ocean of thoughts! …

Chapter V

         There is a miracle in the world, which flies faster than all flyers and which poets call "a bird of thought". Only it is free as a pigeon, active as mercury, strong as muscular man, at the same time, hollow as soap bubble, green as a fruit! Therefore, it is called "green thought" too.
       No matter how ripen it is, it always strives for the most pure place, the tastiest dish, the most innocent flower, attach to it. If it moves away from it from a while, it will fly back to it again. That is probably why Qodir's thoughts return to the happy moments so soon.
       He buried his flying horse under the straw in the warehouse and went to work by the events of the last night, the door opened with force and he entered. "Oh, Almighty God! Dream or reality? Is the girl standing before him … Vera?!" He made two large steps and stood face to face.
- Here, you have run away somewhere! - The pretty girl put all his joy, reproach, caprice and looked at him with love. Then, laughed merrily and said: - What busy cities, to live in this steppe, my dear, like an exiled ghost?
       Although the joke bothered him like that time, he did not show it.
- You can't find the air of the steppe from the coasts of the Black Sea, my dear! … What have brought you here?
- You…
The admittance spread all his suspicion like a fog.
- Really?... Then… Let's go!
- Where?
       Hugging Vera softly he led her out and laughed:
- To see my power in the steppe air!
       In front of the building it stood a new cream color "Volga" like a saddled horse. When he saw how Vera walked towards it, he stopped.
- What … yours?
- Commissar's. According to my dad's appointment … my bodyguard…
       He looked into the car with surprise. He saw there was a military man next to the driver. Colonel! The commissar Vera told, no, bodyguard!
When he sat on the back seat next to Vera and greeted, he told the address to the driver. He didn't want to invite the unexpected guests into his house. When they came close to his house, he whispered into Vera's car: "Wait me outside - I'll change my dress. Then … you'll let them go. "They should not be a fly to a food! …" He drove out his "jet horse", which he had been missing for several ours.
       When they left alone, he wished to show Turkistan to Vera. First, he went to Shakarbuloq, then to Kentov. Took her to Kentov. He demonstrated what his "jet horse" could do. He showed himself, his country much and well, but … showed neither his house nor his mother. How does he show? Moreover, what will his mother think? Instead, he will be limited with explanation of national traditions and apologizing. On the next day he submitted her to the commissar as agreed and said good bye.
       When it passed three-four months, he took all exams in three-four days during winter and thinking "it is my turn to look for her" he flew from Olmaota straight to Moscow. Two of them traveled the large city a lot from side to side. The trip started from their house in the Arbat Street and ended in the office of Anastasia Borisovna at the building of Foreign Affairs. Anastasia Borisovna was attentive and after asking his family, his future plans and dreams, she didn't hide her daughter's good taste. However, she got disappointed with the future son-in-law's patriotism, who clung to the native land with all his teeth and nails. She started to worry about his "strong feudal" She suggested him to live in Moscow and offered world trips… But she became quite when her dear daughter said "Mom, don't interfere, Kolya knows what to do himself". In short, the final decision was left to a later time and they fare welled at Domoyedova.
When he returned to Qorachiq, his mom, unaware of anything, told anxiously:
- In few days your brother Sobir will leave for Chochqakol again packing all his bags. Kenja is in the college. Do I remain alone at home again? I wish to "double your head"…
       Qodir has been waiting for such a chance and he took a shot. Mother was startled from the unexpected news:
- Oh my goodness! Do I have a bride from Russian? No, son, don't speak nonsense! Look at the difference between the rich in Moscow and us!
- What, what is wrong? Isn't it Ok if she learns your language and obeys you? Russian is also a human, mom!...
       Mother panicked even more:
- Who knows, Russian or Chulchut, will learn or teach, will come herself or take you away with herself!...
       Qodir started to explain the situation with patience.
- You used to say "See mother and marry her daughter", I have seen her mother - she is a good person. Speaking of herself, she is saying she will live wherever I live.
       The mother still didn't agree:
- Well, yes, she says so now. Tomorrow, when she turns your head… - She looked at him weeping: - Please, give it up, don't sin, which you can't wash off rubbing with a brick for forty years, son! If you marry, there, the whole Qorachiq is full of girls!
       Qodir had to take the last measure:
- Mom, first could you take a look at the girl one time! If you don't like her, ok, you will tell! You know, there are many men, who have married Russian girls and have been leading good lives!
       Mother ruined it as well:
- Don't give me the city, son! The city is a city! Everything is mixed up and unorganized there. But the person, who makes Qorachiq a native land …
       Qodir understood the rest of the words his way. Laughed and said:
- … true, there hasn't been such case! That is why, I want it to be an interesting matter, mom!...
       There came no sound from his mother. It seemed she lost her speech. She kept cleaning the cotton from pits. Certainly, it was difficult to resolve the biggest problem in the history of Qorachiq. Therefore, he looked for consolation for himself. "Ok, let the time pass! Let her see the girl! Maybe then she will agree!..." Again hesitated: "Ok, she will see her! But … in what language will they talk? Will he be their translator? Will he be able to? For how long?..."
       He thought of himself as able at everything, but when it came to this he felt weak. Then he didn't keep thinking upon it and busied himself with a work. He began to develop his flying horse. One day a huge truck entered his garage. There got off a handsome military man from its cabin. When he asked coming out of his room, he was told to be wanted. It turned out that the commander of Turkistan army, Peter Ivanovich Vladimirov had heard of his "sensational intention" and wished to see it … He got it: "Vera must have told! She has told even after "Don't tell anyone"! Or did some "spy ear or eye" report it? Since it is not about a CRIME, but about INVENTION, anyway, he should be glad from the visit! Maybe it is the bird of luck landed on his head and the wide door to be opened before him?
       While waiting for the appointed time, he phoned Vera to shed light on the matter. Since he is able, he didn't only clarify, but also hit several birds with one stone! He searched an answer to three-four questions in one: "Did you tell? Does your father want to see me? Is his intention good? If he has a bad intention, will you defend me?" He was satisfied with the answers. It means, the message has been taken by someone else! But his intention is good - to help… Moreover, he's got the answer more than enough: "Tell my regards to your father"
       His future father-in-law accepted him warmly. Clasping his hands, he put a paper in front of him:
- We have analyzed your invention with specialists. It is the document confirming its official recognition! Congratulations, fellow first sergeant.
       Qodir put his hand on his chest and bowed:
- Thank you, general-colonel! For appreciating my humble work so high!
       His companion looked at him closely:
- Put aside these talks and tell me what you want to do now?
       Qodir couldn't understand the question. What is he talking about? Is it a form of thanking, a new creative plan, or… the continuation of the relationship with Vera?... He replied a little vaguely:
- Studying … working… that is it for now!
- If we hire you to the inventors' society and create a good condition, will you work with us?
       The question bedazzled Qodir even more than the previous one. Before he tells anything he should ponder over the outcome. He should see the true intention under the offer! He asked time at most a month:
- Let me think seriously, general-colonel.
- Ok, think thoroughly upon it!
       Coming to Qorachiq, he thought much. What to do? But he turned to neither Vera, nor mother, nor his brother Sobir for advice. He should think and decide himself. The thing he found was he couldn't work at invention of military airplanes! It is true that for a student passing to the third course such an opportunity will not occur everyday. To refuse it is ungratefulness. But what is there to do! He hasn't got any work or debt at the army. Here, his brother Sobir has been supplying the rare strategic raw material in the way to increase the military power of the country. There, the mountains of Turkistan are holding unbelievably powerful weapons on their shoulders. Should he make the weapons with his own hands now?! No, it won't work! His goal is not to make fly, but fly himself! Could be Dedar, Ikar, anyway, he is a flyer! How will he tell these words to the general? He added the following to his next "love letter" to Vera: "Tell your father, dear, I can't abandon Qorachiq!"
       Having finished the second course, he made a call from Alma-ota to Moscow in great hesitation. Vera has been waiting for his call with great hope and she "dropped a flame into his heart": "Come to Moscow, dear! You have made me miss you a lot. Also, there is something to talk over. Very good thing! Or do you want me to go?" The invitation ended all his hesitation continuing for two years. In four hours he stood face to face with Vera. Then their walking in thick forests of outskirt of Moscow, the intimate talks at the summer house resulted in his decision to transfer his study to Moscow and to marry Vera. If he lives in here for only three months, and finishes the study, two of them, maybe, three will go back to Turkistan. That is it, no room for other opinions! Vera's parents will remove all obstacles on his way. To take mother's consent - from her!
       Of course, it is the most difficult. Qodir understands that well. But he will handle it. Since he is Qodir, he will handle it. For how long will he be living bounded to that inconspicuous garage in palm-sized Qorachiq?! Going back to fatherland will wait! But now - while he is young, he should fly, fly as high as possible!
       No matter how much he tried to explain, persuade, he could receive mother's approval. He heard bitter words, which he had not heard from his father:
- Did we raise you in this hope, son? Because of study… because of that broom-haired girl… do you want to go there forever? Wasn't enough to disappoint your dad?
- Ok, say what you want, mother. But could you help at the wedding? It is only for three days!  You go one day, stay one day and the next day I'll take you back myself, - said he.
       She didn't agree no matter how much he begged. She said terrible words: "I wish to see my only son's wedding not in other cities, but in my own house. I don't mind it going poorly! - said she. If she doesn't agree, what can be done? He returned by himself. On the way he wanted to take brother Botir with him, unfortunately, he caught a cold and was at the hospital. Well, even if he comes, what can he do? Will he substitute parents?
       In three days after his arrival to Moscow, it occurred their extraordinary wedding at the restaurant "Metropol" At the wedding, which no one among Qorachiq people from 7 to 70 years old has ever seen such wonderful wedding, unfortunately, it participated nobody from the groom's side. "If they didn't see, that's fine" - he grew angry - they are such people: "CAN'T SEE" It means, he shouldn't suffer, but be glad of it! Did the bird of luck land on everyone; did the luck come to everyone? As he sat modestly in the heart of the banquet, he looked around with joy. There, his father-in-law - his wing stretched to Turkistan, there, his mother-in-law - his another wing stretched to the world, here his Vera - his heart: she has white chiffon dress on her, white chiffon flowery corona, she is white herself!... With these double wings and white heart … he will fly far! But now! … Since the wedding is called "toy" (in Uzbek "eat full"), he should satisfy his eyes.
       He and Vera have decided to come to Qorachiq for a week after the wedding. But, because of the unexpected (is it "unexpected"?) wedding present of his mother-in-law,  it needed to be postponed to a later time. A month long honey moon trip will pass through Eastern Europe, the countries at the Mediterranean sea and the East. It would be foolish to refuse the fortune. The best way - to go to mother's place as three people! What mother will not melt down seeing grandchild?! By that time he will travel as much as he wishes.
       From the amazing trip like in the dream Qodir didn't return up-hearted, on the contrary, came down-hearted. To think back, there were things he hasn't seen more than he has seen. Living in the bright world for 24-years, does what he has seen make thousands part of it? When will he see the rest? Will he have the chance? Will he have time? Putting aside other destinations, when will he see Japan?
       Interesting, the trip should have ignited his motivation, curiosity, but it turned it off instead. He hasn't studied "in the most famous university of the country". He hasn't worked at the "get anything you like" inventors' society. All his thoughts were at Japan: "When will I see Japan" - kept asking.
       In hope of his dream come true, he stared long into his mother-in-law's and wife's eyes, waited long for their mouths. At last there came an end to his patience. He felt empty inside. He thought to fill the emptiness with something. In the intention he decided to take the initiative. During the night talks he "raised his wife's ears" and "heated his mother-in-law's ears": "Should we not go for another wedding trip? Mummy isn't saying anything about it? We'll have one more honey moon? …" He swung the delicate strings of the woman's soul, it seems, Vera asked playfully: "What country is your soul coveting, my dear Kolik?" Qodir almost stayed calm: "It doesn't matter, - trying to keep himself as calm as possible. - I want us to get a good rest that is all! Japan is praised a lot. Is it true?"
       In about two weeks when he returned depressed home from the inventor's society "not being able to pull anything out of his mind" Vera welcomed him with good news: "Get ready, dear, starting next week it is a trip to Far East countries!"
       Frankly speaking the second trip exceeded the first one. The trip started from Japan, continued in South Korea, China, Taiwan, Singapore, India, and like last time ended in Ceylon. Frankly, it is impossible to tell all what he has seen in this trip! How can he describe the 5th generation robots he saw in Japan? How about Korea's industry? The medicine of Tibet? The miracles of India? Taj Mahal … how can he finish? To express it shortly in his language: cool! It is so cool that you feel yourself miserable before them. You wonder how our ancestors have built Samarqand, Bukhara, moreover, the unfinished mausoleum of Khazrat Sultan. In comparison to these wonderful lands why Turkistan is lying so low? - you ask yourself over and over again. You think with sorrow: "Why the ancient region, which has been a head to Eastern caravans, isn't the owner, or the caravan leader, but it is a "rear leg of a dog"?"
       When he returned from his second trip, he strongly realized how much he missed Turkistan, Turkistan's Qorachiq, and his mother in Qorachiq. That is it; he has seen the world enough for now. Now, if the God wants he will see a son, after that he can go to visit the missed ones - Turkistan, Qorachiq, his mother.
       One day his wife whispered to his ears: "You know Kolik, I seem to be pregnant?" "Oh, really? Thanks God! I had a pure intention!" while he was delighted of God's power, his wife mumbled disagreeably: "Now that's the limit! In the very period of our joy and excitement … it may be an extra burden to our studies, I don't know? I'll abort and relieve!"
       At that time he forgot his might completely - begged his wife placing his head on her feet: "What are you saying, dear Verochka? Ok, I'll help myself, all right, I'll feed myself, Ok, I'll be your slave, but don't do that! Don't deprive the innocent of life! I beg you …!" The wife didn't say anything to these entreats. Only during breakfast she let her mother know the situation. Anastasia Borisovna took Qodir's side. "Kolechka is right! I've been waiting for grandchild, and you silly! …Leave nurturing of the child to me! I'll resign in about a year …"
       Thus, when it went 4-5 months by, his offspring he saved from his wife came into the bright world. Right, it wasn't a son as he dreamed, but a girl was born. But she was so wonderful girl that probably legendary Zukhra was so too in her infantry! Obeying Vera's will they called her Venera. Son or girl, Zukhra or Venera, it is an open road for Turkistan!
       After three months they finished the third course and their girl's bones stiffened, he thought: "Now there is nothing to hinder us from going to Turkistan!" He was anxious about unexpected destruction of his plan, so he prepared wife. "Should I take mother and baby to Turkistan for melon picnic? If you didn't eat the melon grown in Turkistan - think you haven't come into this world! Also, we will strengthen our girl and show her to grandmother! What do you say, darling?" They got ready for the journey at last after two week of preparation and arguments. By the way, Vera learned a few words like "Assalom", "Are you all right?", "Bye". The three planned for only a week not a month this time. At the Tashkent airport his father-in-law welcomed with great attention and … greeted Qodir coldly, hugged his daughter, amused his granddaughter, and saw them off.
       Holding his Venera up on his arms, accompanying wife Vera on the side, they entered the house. At first, the mother turned still like a monument on the spot. In a little while, she hurried to them with ample tears in eyes. She welcomed three of them simultaneously: "Oh, my son, who multiplied from himself! Oh my children!" They sat around khontakhta (low table) and mother loved the baby and asked with great inner desire:
- What is the name of this my sweetie?
- Zukhra! - said Qodir, which he translated as precisely as he had done his own name to Vera. - Her name is Zukhra! It is a nice name, isn't it, mom?
- Good, certainly good! - said mother happily. - I wish the God has given her to you with life! - Then she loved her once again and wondered: - She is so white, however, how come my sweetie's eyes are so black! I am not sure about her, but her eyes look like yours, son!...
       "Enough!" - Qodir shouted to himself. - He won't think the rest! There is nothing to think! But he doesn't have anything else to do but think and immerse into thinking!...                 
Chapter VI

       At that time, the three weeks for the melon picnic went by in a blink. - they returned Moscow. While his mother saw them off, she begged: "I couldn't see you fully! In whole year did you come only for a week? Do you go back again? Let Kenja come at least! The entire vacation is ahead!..."
       Yes, the vacation is still ahead! It awaits not only the vacation, but also the ticket for the gold sands on the sea coast! Moreover, during the weekly journey he realized that he couldn't stay in Turkistan for another day! If he stays, he can't leave. He can see off his wife and baby, but he … won't be able to leave! Therefore, he tried to calm his mother: "From now on, we will come frequently, mom! In two years our studies will finish. We will see Kenja on the way. Since, we will fly from Tashkent!:
       Alas, it was impossible to see Kenja. Rather Vera didn't agree: "No, Kolik, do we go from dorm to dorm with Venerochka! Your brother should go to Moscow! He is younger than you!"
       In short, they rested for two-three hours at the house of father-in-law in Tashkent and flew to Moscow. In Moscow they relaxed for another two-three days, left Venera to Anastasia Borisovna and nanny, and flew to Golden sands - the land of Bulgarians. The pleasures unavailable to many frankly didn't suit him. In addition to Turkistan, Qorachiq, mother, brothers, now it is added his daughter whom he missed a lot. When he suggested taking Venera with them, Vera criticized him: "No, Kolik, don't interfere the matter of mother and baby! I should stop breastfeeding - my figure will distort! Let's rely our daughter on mother and nanny, and take rest quietly!"
       When they were lying in bedroom to relax, they watched a Turkish movie. A poor girl, who was lover of rich man, seduces a poor guy, thinking he was rich, who came to the resort as a lover of rich woman. When she found out the truth and all her dreams crashed, she blames the guy for being womanlike and mocks him. That is all!
       Certainly, Vera isn't his lover, but wife. Nevertheless, the movie had a great impact on Qodir. He admitted his dependence on his wife. Their wedding took place not in Qorachiq, but in "Russia's heart" - he agreed. He wasn't truly groom, but groom, who stayed at girl's house - he accepted. Their daughter was named not Zukhra or Cho'lpon, but Venera - he agreed. They left the baby, who didn't turn half a year yet, into strange hands and "they came here quietly" - he agreed. After so many agreements … can he still be Qodir? Isn't it real weakness, the fivefold womanishness of that guy?!
       He didn't show it to Vera, but he returned Moscow with boundless disagreement against it. Even his daughter, who started to make noise, couldn't pacify him. He busied himself with inventive work. He wanted to find peace from invention of something. Oh God! "Invention" depends on a peace of mind and calmness of soul - at the society he was given such convenient conditions, but … he couldn't create anything. The saying "Something always hinders for bad dancer" seems to be true. He couldn't make a new version of his horse at least. Interesting. Did he create something two years ago for real?! The certificate about his invention, here, lies in his hands. But where is the flying horse itself? Why isn't his father-in-law saying a word about his invention? Should he ask?...
       He quit invention and turned to reading. He studied the industry of developed countries and compared it to that of great country as well as Turkistan. As he learned his spirit went lower and lower. Even in the light industry he noticed the wide gap and how else could he feel? It was drummed a lot "Turkistan got rid of lagging swamp and became a highly developed industrial country" In reality, is the country capable of producing a simple match? The whole industry consists of refining the raw material and hammering the ready parts. At least, would they allow our traditional shoemakers, jewelers? In the plants there are no classes of workers formed by domestic people. If Bolsheviks - are called workers' power, and there is no worker's class in Turkistan, then, in whose hands is the power here? Can the nation, be it Qodir, Ozod, who in reality doesn't possess its own government, be considered a nation in general?! No, it resembles Qodir, who follows Vera as a shadow.
       Studying deeply in oblivion of his wife, Turkistan and mother, at last defended his diploma and sensed really good feeling: now he can fly straight to Turkistan. It is good for his daughter as well. He wonders, maybe, it affects the cold European weather, or artificial milk, or continuous kindergarten, or yet other things, his daughter can't recover from illness. Doctors are also recommending changing air and traveling to south. But will his wife, who is specialist with diploma on "foreign economic relations", agree? If doesn't, so what?! Is Vera husband and he wife, who came after - to follow all life?! When he declared his final decision, Vera didn't agree: "You know, dear Kolik, I was given a directive to work in San-Francisco for two years!" Qodir stared at wife: "Who promised to go back to Turkistan after finish of study?" Wife destroyed the last hope too: "I remember, Kolik, I know, but at that time, there was no talk about San-Francisco. To give up San-Francisco for Turkistan… instead, let's go to America to lead two years of wonderful life" At first, he was inclined to this proposal. "So what, what will happen if he sees America too, do all people get such luck?" he said to himself. But thinking deeply he changed his mind: "No, I have seen enough in this world, wife! - said trying to keep himself as calm as possible. - Speaking of America, although I haven't seen it, but I feel like I have seen it - nine centuries ago Beruny has seen it from Turkistan! It is heredity to me from father to see far ahead, to ride a carriage and see distant places, dear!" Wife didn't give up: "Right, but to see it with your own eyes is incomparable. Moreover, what will be the directive? How do I reject?.." "Then … reject me! Ok, don't delay from the way to San-Francisco; I … will take Venera to Turkistan! Is it clear?"
       Vera was shocked from sudden suggestion and she softened a little: "What are you saying, dear?! You became so wild and capricious like a child, dear! I didn't say "I will not go to Turkistan", did I?"
       The argument, which lasted for two weeks, resulted in the decision of father-in-law: "It won't go away to work abroad. Come to our Turkistan! I am here!..."
       With this short invitation they moved to Turkistan. However, he didn't stay in Tashkent as his father-in-law invited. He didn't go to Qorachiq as his mother asked. He chose the middle and settled in Turkistan. He purchased an eight-room villa near the mausoleum of Yassavy. Vera took a job at district committee - became a head of the tourist department, which opened thanks to Khazrat Sulton. He started to work as an engineer of repair-mechanics plant and at the same time as a senior lecturer of the Turkistan Industrial College (TIC).
       Before he started his job, he played a house wedding for "moving here". In the new "Volga" of the plant husband-wife called people starting from their parents in Qorachiq!
- "Will you come to the wedding?" - hinted Qodir. Mother understood the hint - replied quickly: - "If not in my house, it is near my Sulton, of course, I will come with great pleasure, dear son!" The wedding was excellent and Qodir prepared much for it. True, on one issue he couldn't succeed. At the wedding Vera's parents or relatives didn't participate. Vera sat herself alone.
       When the wedding was over, Qodir said to his mother: "From now on, you will live here, near Sulton, mother! Let brother Sobir pull his cart himself!" Mother was frustrated from his words:
"Don't say that, son! I can't leave the house, where your forefathers have lived, to stay here. I need to marry Kenja in that house!"
       Then, she changed the tone of her speech to advice: "When I looked closely, son, you found good wife although she is stranger! The atlas dress suits her so well!.. Now teach her Islamic traditions! I just want you … to avoid sinning at the side of my Sultan, son!"
- Be calm about it, mom! - said Qodir feeling stressed inside. - I came here not to immerse into sin, but wash off my sins!
Here it passed twenty years by. He vividly remembers the promise he gave to his mother at that time. But he still doesn't understand: if he could keep his promise!
He started to work with great concentration. As a starting point he intends to open a shop to experiment. He will produce light as a bird, flying as a horse, miraculous as a UFO devices in there! He will name the cars excelling "Ford" and "Mercedes", "Toyota" and "Opel", and capable of both running and flying one as "Sir" another "Amu", the other "Shovvoz" and the best one "Qodir"! He will present them at various international exhibitions. Gradually the shop will expand and turn to a concern! He will take the plant not to a dangerous road but to the road of success. The director is aware of whose son-in-law and husband Qodir is; therefore, he doesn't oppose his initiatives and open wide doors.
- Do what you want, - said he. - Most important - as a chief engineer you have to maintain consistent work of the shops and fulfill the plan in time! True, the "wide doors" will not solve the problem easily. The capacity of the repair-mechanics plant is so limited that it can hardly handle any job other than painting not speaking about repairing. He will do undoable. First, he will reinvent the new model of the flying horse, which disappeared in his father-in-law's hands like in sand! Wouldn't the thing, which was created in the garage in Qorachiq, be created in the repair-mechanics plant! After all, it is not a mere garage for entry-exit, but a whole plant!

       In the result of the work delayed for a month everything was found and prepared, but … the flying horse he created neither went nor flew. He wished to develop, but spoiled it as a result. The weight of the new "Jiguli" dedicated for "restoring" lessened, but it stopped to move not to speak about flying. Oh heavens! How did he create the flying horse only five years ago - during his student time?! Did he create it indeed? Did he make it in reality or in his imagination?! Since, the second attempt didn't promise good outcome, should he talk to his father-in-law about the fate of the flying horse instead of reinventing a bicycle? It seems, if he doesn't do so, he will not recover from sadness! ... He asked Vera: "- Do you want to see our dad this weekend?"
       Husband makes the suggestion and Vera shouldn't be glad! Two of them entered the winter house of Peter Ivanovich leading Venera by hand. He was silent as usual, therefore, during the play of chess he asked in a low voice:
- What happened to that … my flying horse, father? Is it flying?
- Oh, that? - Peter Ivanovich waved his hand disturbed. - Our damned specialists tried to test it and burned. We have been aggravated unable to restore it! Haven't I told you this?
- Qodir was surprised staring at his father-in-law. Look at this! Is he telling the truth or … lying? Anyway, this must be what is said "My flying bird flew away". It seems father-in-law noticed dissatisfaction from his face, started to threaten.
"Are you unable to produce anything even though it has been created many opportunities, sonny?"
Qodir mumbled:
- I have been working on the new one. It didn't work in Moscow, perhaps, now it will work in Turkistan Peter Ivanovich!
While going home, he felt stressed. What did curse him? Why his luck turned away from him? True, thanks God, He returned to Turkistan. As he has dreamed, he lives ahead of not ahead of Qorachiq but ahead of Turkistan. He is not a head of capsized garage, but chief engineer of a large plant. He is powerful! But his soul … is still worried about something. It is not calmness. In addition, his affair isn't progressing. Moreover, his plant is being audited. The director, who used to greet him friendly, changed to criticism.
- If you want to work, work harder, otherwise leave us alone! It is inappropriate to complain on such mockery words to his father-in-law. What does he complain? When the continuous criticism hurt his too much, he complained first to district committee, then to regional committee, after that to the secretary in industrial affairs of Central Committee.
- What is this, is there a room for an invention at our plant?! - But he couldn't receive a clear answer to his straightforward question. All - give advice like dear:
- Why do you need to earn a problem to your head, dear? It is known the function of the repair-mechanics plant. Make it perfect, then enjoy yourself.
- It means, we should keep painting the faded seeding machine.
- Yes, mainly that is it! - made it clear secretary of the Central committee. - People above will think about other sides of the problem. You can be calm!

       He returned to Turkistan feeling himself as the most miserable person in the world. He handed over all his "main work" to his deputy and directed all his effort to the lectures in the college. The tongue, mumbled before the secretary of the Central Committee, loosened in front of the students. "Little brothers! - said he freeing his soul. - If I say to you, the world has never seen such sly type of colonialism! You can find the last version, the stunning look of all the colonial, semi-colonial and dependent lands that exist in the world! Well, is there a single full-fletched plant in Turkistan? At least, is there a plant making a match out of wood or a factory manufacturing a shirt out of cotton? The ones that exist are busy with painting like that repair-mechanics plant or with assembling ready parts like that aircraft construction association after Chkalov! In the past the nation has been able to invent the flying horse. What has it been fireless, poor since five thousand years? No, whatever has caused it occurred these days. Turkistan tried to attach a tail and was deprived of the wing..."
       It is unknown if it reached the hearts of his students. But, it has reached the ears of some people at some place and one day his father-in-law called him himself:
- Come to my place, son! Fly here, fly... No, leave children and come yourself!
When he arrived to Tashkent, his father-in-law, who had called him himself, had left for fishing to his summer house for the unknown reason. He was taken there at once. On the way he thought nervously: "Does he want to fish with me or what?!" He worried in vain. His assumption was right. Father-in-law and son sat side by side on the coast of the river and silently watched the foam plastic of the hook. In order to avoid frightening fish Peter Ivanovich asked in a low voice:
- Do you have brothers, first sergeant?
- I do, -- said Qodir wondering why he gave the question at the moment. - I have one elder and one younger brother. You knew, didn't you?
       Peter Ivanovich didn't answer and changed the topic.
- It means, you are "Great triple"? We also have many "triples"! Also, we have estimation "Three - empty". "We have a carriage called "Triple". If you know or not, we had an evil in thirties called "triple'. We are many, but, it is said, our ancestors have been three brothers. They called the eldest - Vladicaucas, the middle - Vladivostok, and the youngest - Vladimir. We are grandchildren of that Vladimir. "Turkistan" is not a gate of the east, but the gate of the world. We will not stand still at the gate for long, of course. We will go out of it and pass to Afghan, then - to Pakistan, Iran, India, beyond it - the world ocean. Who joins us on the way is our friend, who is not with us - our enemy! And we will destroy our enemy till the last one!... Understood?
As Qodir listened to this extraordinary speculation, he grew angry inside: "Great! I don't know about brothers, but his grandfather's appetite was good! He was about to swallow the bone of Khazrat Sulton without chewing. But Turkistan as a large bone got stuck in his throat. In order to digest it, he needs to swallow it. Unfortunately, he can neither swallow it nor spit it out! Yeah, it is difficult for you grandchildren! Is it easy to swallow and digest Turkistan, then the whole world? The commanders as Alexander the Great and Chingizkhan couldn't handle it! There, even Adolf Hitler … could not go beyond constructing the "Turkistan legion"!" He was involved into deep thought staring at the Mother Sirdaryo and regained consciousness from the voice of Peter Ivanovich.
- You are my son-in-law, right, first sergeant?
       Qodir nodded his head.
- That is right.
Peter Ivanovich started to give advice now.
- It means, it will put a special responsibility on you, my son! It is uneasy to be son-in-law to Vladimirovs! You should weight every your step and keep your mouth shut.
- What have I done not to hold my tongue, Peter Ivanovich? My tongue is still locked. Here, at the moment at the place I'm talking in your language? - he turned it to a joke.
- Leaving the tongue alone, try to recall what came out of it?
- What?
- Tell me, first sergeant, in Soviet Union, who is colonial to whom, who is semi-colonial to whom and who is dependent to whom?!
- Here, am I looking at your mood? It is clear who is dependent to whom, Peter Ivanovich? - said he laughing.
To the Qodir's words told as a joke if understands, truth if not, Peter Ivanovich didn't laugh. On the contrary, he became very serious. At last, his advice took the form of not warning, but overt threatening, that is, took the political form:
- All right, our conversation must stay here! We put it into Sirdaryo water… Now… as far as I know you haven't seen the northern parts of the Far East? I mean the Siberian woods? … Or … do you want to cut trees over there for a year to sharpen your mind? Isn't it shameful for son-in-law of Peter Ivanovich? What you say, son?
What should he reply to this underlying threat? Should he play dumb saying "Although I have never gone through forest, I have delivered apples to Novosibirsk for sale. It was a lot of money!"? Or should he talk about the complaints of mother to son? Should he say his grandfather and uncles have seen the Siberia, moreover, their bones have remained there, isn't it enough? If it is in his fate to see those woods, maybe, he could hear anything about them at least? Oh, I am not sure! Will the message that hasn't been heard for forty years come out now, when it has snowed and covered the traces?...
After long thinking, at last, he lost his heart and joined his hands.
- Forgive me, father! - he addressed his apology.
Father-in-law relaxed all of a sudden:
- There you go, son! If you are tired, here we've got such nice places as this. If you are bored, have a world trip. But, be careful with your tongue!
       Qodir put his hand on his chest before leaving:
- Ok, father.
       Peter Ivanovich said goodbye in a friendly manner.
- Say hi to Verochka from me! Kiss Venerochka for me! Let us meet at good things from now on.
       That day he returned Turkistan directly and left a request for a half-year-leave at his work. He dived into reading, thinking and drinking. In the eight-room house alone, like Afanasiy Nikitin, "voyaged" the three seas by himself. After it passed two months, his wife's patience was over. On one day she asked with a little tender, a little concern, and a little threat:
- What has damned you Kolik? - said in Russian.
       Drunkenness is honesty, no matter how hard he tried to hide his secrets, part of the anger accumulated deep in his heart emerged to his tongue involuntarily:
- God bless you, could we talk in Uzbek at home at least!
       The sudden menace shocked Vera. Then she sat down onto a soft chair crying:
- You are hurting me, dear! I've refused such wonderful places as San-Francisco and come to your land … is it good?
- What is good?
- That vodka … your menace.
       Wife's words made his blood rush to his head. He threw all the poison came to his tongue:
- This demand of mine? What, is it an unjust demand? You should become fair, wife; do I have the right to speak with my wife in mother language in my own house?! If I speak in you language at work, read book in your language at home, and lecture in your language at college! Be well, while I know your language better than you would you be so kind to speak in my language a little at least at home. There, look at our daughter! Could she say her name in father's language at least! There should be a limit for the violence, dear Verochka!
       Wife hugged his shoulders and caressed him stoking his hair:
- Home alone … isolated from the world you've become so wild, my silly! It seems we should change air and go out to relax?...
       After two days, Vera loved him with a stroke of his hair:
- I have found a ticket for the month long trip in the American mainland, dear! How long do I welcome and see off other tourists? Not speaking of ourselves let our Cho'lponoy see foreign land!
       It flew spring warmth into Qodir's cold heart. His double journey in the world resulted in acquisition of this - Cho'lpon. Since then, it passed five months. He is going to twenty nine, wife - twenty four. They have a single daughter. There is neither brother nor sister. Indeed, it is necessary to change the air.
       Having been guests one night in father-in-law's summer house, another in mother-in-law's house, finally, they flew straight from Moscow to New-York with Vera on one side, Venera or Cho'lpon on the other and behind (he guesses) two-three spies. First, US and Canada, then traveling Latin American countries one by one, they stopped in the middle - Cuba. They rested two weeks on the coast, "digested" what they have seen, in short, they resumed their third trip and went back the way they had come.
       Look! The skyscrapers of New-York and ancient buildings in Canada, Brazil's soccer and Columbia's literature! … Columbus has opened the gate to these miracles and Beruny has imagined all these miracles?! Now, will not the miracles return to Spain and Turkistan ever?! Is there a grain of truth in the stories that the word "Cuba" has derived from the word "quva"? If there is, is the "Island of Freedom" the place where humankind arrived chasing one another? Is the freedom based on chasing and fleeing … a real freedom or Tokhir's state in chest?
       He became quiet after the trip. Since, it has been invented the theory of relativity in the mainland and like other things in the world the notions of world "freedom" and "dependence" are very relative, what does it remain for him but to surrender to the world stream? The large country boasted "What is America before us?" in the beginning of the century, however, in reality it couldn't even come close to its progress and is still up to its neck in lagging and dependence. If so, when will Turkistan, which is easy prey for the large kingdom, become truly independent and achieve such high development? Is the task doable? Probably, it is impossible to reach even with the flying horse! Those, who attempted to develop Turkistan in the beginning of the century, seem to be superficial? …
       After the return to Turkistan he submitted to fate and stopped to swim against the current. One day his pleasure increased tenfold - his son Tokhir was born. He received the right to give him a name. He made his name spelled accurately into the ID: "Tokhir Qodirovich Zokirov!" He was proud deep inside and repeated over and over again: "Tokhir Qodirovich Zokirov! Tokhir, who was born in Turkistan! …" One day he overheard how his wife was caressing the baby: - "My Tolik! My Anatolik!" All of a sudden it seemed it struck lightning in his mind and explained neatly to bear in mind: "Ok, let me be Kolik, all right, let my daughter be Venera, ok, let you not speak in my language, but our son will be Tokhir, do you get it, his name is Tokhir!"
       From that day on he started to deal with his son's fostering himself. It seems he is unable to be Qodir, hopefully, his son will be Tokhir! Hopefully, his son will be able to achieve dreams of his ancestors! He consoled himself with the hope. He consoled with the effort. But the boy turned out to be weak, his illness followed another. Parents have given their work over to deputies and took care of their child, but he got even worse. What can be done now? To call his mom, she can't come abandoning Qorachiq. To move to her side, brother Sobir has many children and the children can't fit the house. To hire a babysitter, they can't trust the only son to heavens could they trust a stranger?...
       Vera showed the way.
- That is enough, we'll go back to Moscow. We'll be fine then. We have worked enough at the border, now we will work at the ministry of foreign economic relations! And my mother is pensioner - she will look after Tokhir. What you say, Qodirjon, dear?
       "Don't even try, you speak in vain! - thought he feeling angry inside. - Now, you can't take me to that city even shooting from cannon! I'll never step your Moscow!" But he didn't show it, explained clearly.
- You have seen, darling, we have hardly treated our Zukhra bringing to here! Our son Tokhir, who has breathed the steppe air … can't adapt to the choking air or Moscow! It is better, maybe, you ask your mom to come here?
       When they called, mother-in-law was laconic.
- The remainder of my life is in Arbat, my dears! I haven't gone for your father's invitation, do I accept yours? Come yourselves! - said she.
       In response to his mother-in-law there was born an excellent idea in his mind. He will move to Qorachiq! He explained delicately to his wife.
- You see, darling, Turkistan is getting bigger and its air polluted year in year out. Let's make Qorachiq our motherland now. It is a nice place. Wonderful water. Mom will do our Tokhir's treatment well. Speaking of ourselves, it is only ten chaqirims (1 chaqirim = 1 kilometer), we can attend work! What you say, darling?
       Vera objected it:
- No, leave it, Kolik! Do we need to squeeze into those beggars!
       Qodir started to persuade.
- Don't worry about it, dear. We will build such a superb house in the village that it will be better than the house in Arbat left to you from your granddad. If I do so for our Tokhir, would you like it?
       Vera agreed:
- If for Tokhir, all right!
       On that day he went to village and crept into mom's soul:
- We want to move to your side, mom
       Mother coveted:
- Bless you, how come, when, where?...
       Qodir explained.
- You have said there was granddad's oil mill on the hill at the center of the village. Would you like me to build a house in place of the oil mill?
       Mother longed even more.
- I would like it very much to see you before my eyes!...
       It means the job can be started.
       He ran to the chairman's office: "There, now, at last, it seems the time has come to buy not only his lousy car but also him" The chairman stood up with an external gladness and internal worry to welcome him:
- Hey, come, come, dear Qodir Zokirovich! If you had told, we would have met you?!
       He stretched his hand to the chairman carelessly, who was twisting-curling like a snake, went straight to his vacated chair and shook it with hand:
- I see, the chair's legs are grinding and became unable to hold you! Don't you want to get a new one? Or do you think the owner should be renewed? What do you say if I sit here myself tomorrow?
       The "joke" totally bewildered the chairman. He took his seat involuntarily and grabbed tightly the back of the chair. Probably the silliness of his attitude angered him he stood up again and started to flatter with him:
- "The man, with whom we are proud of saying "born in our kolkhoz"… the chief engineer of a large plant … is unlikely to look to the small position. The man, who can reach Olma-ota with one hand, Moscow with another…
       These words pleased Qodir's self-esteem incredibly. He sat on the chair in the corner and crossed his legs:
- Then … there is a deal, brother!
- I am all ears, brother?
- Your bride is willing to live in the village. Don't worry, we aren't going to work, but to live!
       The blood returned to the chairman's face and he sat comfortably on his chair:
- It is very good, brother! It is said "The horse goes around and finds its stake" What can be better than living in your own village among friends! What place would you like?
- I am thinking the place of the old oil mill will do. It is an abandonned place. It is close to my dad's house?..
- Your one word, brother! To build the house you want at the place is from us, to accept it from you! Is it OK?
- What help is needed from me?
- What are you talking about, Qodir Zokirovich! It is worth of erecting a monument for the person like you, what is a small house to build! … By the way, I'm telling as you are asking yourself, our little son … is going to be called for a military service in a day or two?...
- It is a piece of cake for me! ... We'll fix it! Don't worry! …
… Qodir lied face down and smiled sarcastically. The chairman has been calm about his son since then! But what about himself? Where is the calmness? To swim in the ocean of pleasure as much as you wish … to fail to be calm! What pain is it, what suffering is it?! To be unable to find it either travelling the whole world or becoming father of Tokhir or moving out or fleeing out to Qorachiq! … Is the "calmness" so rare? When will he find it? When he dies? …

Chapter VII

       After a month they had moved out to Qorachiq, his father-in-law made a call. He started his speech with congratulation.
- Let the house serve you for good, son! Now… I have been busy with the affairs related to the Afghan, therefore could not go. You receive my congratulations over the telephone, dear first sergeant!
- Thank you, dad, thank you! - Qodir felt a wonderful wing in him. But the wing… faded away with a little strike:
- We wish the house to please you, but you… have been unable to justify our trust, son-in-law! I thought you would be the foreign affairs minister at least eventually, and you… are pulling yourself down as much as we try to raise you! The wild nature of yours isn't good, sonny!
       What should he reply to the words? "Our ancestors have told "Instead of being a king in a different country, be a servant in your own land". Should he say - If I prefer the smith trade in my own village for the ministry of foreign affairs and higher positions you are offerring, will it be wildness? He was silent in wonder what to say, the words of his father-in-law sounded interesting.
- It is fine if you want that yourself, but why are you leading our only daughter astray? Or should I part her from you?
       What should he say to the cold reproach? Should he say - "Keep your daughter!" But what is her fault? Is her fault - to come to his fatherland with her two children for him as a bride? What does "bride" mean, come or leave?.. Should he say "Ok, you could part a husband from wife, a flesh from nail, but how can we divide your grandchildren to four? Maybe you have found the method in Afganistan"? But his conscience overcame: he hardly defended himself:
- Forgive me, father! I think, for me to justify your hopes the construction of the single house for your grandchild in his grandfather's land will not be an obstacle?..
       It seems the father-in-law felt satisfaction from his words, which had a good logic, respect, and proper noun and verb, he said goodbye asking to kiss his grandchildren.
       Thus, he could dodge the worst attack and settled firmly at the place of his great grandfather's old oilpress! Now he wished to build a modern oilpress himself and rotate it with a piece.
       His works have been prospering gradually, his Tokhir has stood on foot, and his Venera has started to read Uzbek, in the meantime he noticed a shortage in his life when his brother Sobir celebrated their mother's turning to the Prophet's age. He was sorry to see the ceremony go poorly like the funeral of his father and that he was only a spectator in the ceremony. In the result… in his soul it emerged an unusual thought that not only the people of Qorachiq but also of Turkistan would be afraid of thinking. What if he takes his mother to the Khaj (pilgrimmage)? If he redeems all his faults in the superb way that his brother Sobir will never dream of! Besides, he can visit the sacred place one more time and wish Turkistan a piece and a development to his own matters? Maybe he should bring the modern press and other equipment used in small firms on the way from Turkey! What if he disseminates them in large and small villages of Turkistan like qualitative seeds! Will it not produce a sensational harvest?..
During the ceremony he revealed one side of his intentions, his mother wished sincerely:
- I would love to, son, to go for the Khaj! It is the dream of not only mine, but also of my ancestors! Then she turned sad and added. - Even if it is possible… It would probably cost a wealth?..
- Would it be a million? You want to go, would we grudge the money! - said he.
       But his mother nodded her head with regret:
- I need pure money, son! Should I make the Khaj for unclean money… and spoil my both worlds at once?
- It means my earnings are… unclean?
- Can your earnings be called clean… that are found by teaching your children in a foreign language, son?
       Qodir turned to a frozen man before his mother. Look at her words! "Ok! - said he feeling angry inside. - If all depends on this, he will find a way out for it too. He has been unable to found the national industry, what if he tries to base the existing industry on the native language at least?"
       But it was easy to say! He was able to convert his lessons to the native tongue at the technical school, but he stumbled at every step. For instance, what does "technical" mean? What about "industry"? "Machine"? Leave "Accumulator" aside. His head started to spin.
       He got on his "Volga" and headed straight to Tashkent. He looked ironically at the "poor people" once and again, who were walking around in the six-floor building, and ascended to the fourth floor - to his brother Kenja. He entered his room mumbling.
- What are you doing, brother?!
- Writing… - The little brother, shocked by the unexpected visit, didn't look like a city man. He looked at him and felt strange.
- Is this the work you found turning away from the surgery? - he said with a pity for him. - You don't stop writing! But do those arrogant educators of yours think about the fate of our language?! These high misters, they should eat their bread fairly.
- What's the matter, brother, is everything all right?
       He explained his intention. His little brother calmed down a little and smiled.
- This is a Speech department, brother! You should go the Terminology department.
       The little brother hesitated for a while and started to take him downstairs:
- Let's go, I'll show!
       He didn't find it appropriate to walk with his brother, therefore he stopped Kenja.
- That is Ok, carry on your writing! I'll go there myself! - said he and headed to the stairs. When he entered the department, there was a big man of around 60 years old.        He went straight to him and expressed his intention without greeting:
- How do we call "motor", lecturer?
       The owner of the room stared at him with irony and raised his eyebrow.
- How to call, call it "motor", brother! Don't you know this simple word!
- What, isn't there a term in our native language for this word?!
       The owner of the room waved his hand finding it silly:
- Who knows brother …
       Qodir's hairs stoon on end:
- What?! - yelled freely. You don't know? If you don't know it, what are you doing here?!
Then he left the room as abruptly as he had entered it. When he came home, he told the whole "conversation" to his brother with laughter. Kenja went almost crazy.
- Look at you! Do you know who you talked to? Qodir said indifferently playing the key of his "Volga":
- Let him be Aristotle, so what? It is certain that he is not Aristotle - he doesn't know "motor"!..
- If he doesn't know your "motor", let him not! But that man … is an expert in the study of dostons, brother! He is at the Terminology department of necessity. What if he remembered you…
       Qodir didn't know whether to laugh or not to and leaned against the door. If he is your most experienced specialist, the rest is clear. Then he was short on goodbye and left to Turkistan. Thus, he was upset with the institute of literature he had strived for and with his brother. But time to time he makes calls to his brother's office when he misses him or his mother insists. Everytime he calls, he asks him with sarcasm:
- Are you sitting, brother?
- Sitting! - answers Kenja.
- Ok, go on sitting! - permits Qodir and laughs out loud.
       Little brother hardly laughs along with him. Only after that they pass to the normal greeting…
       He realized that over the last five-six years he had visited the institute again twice. Everytime he advanced into his room and asked:
- Are you sitting, brother?
- Sitting! - as usual Kenja replies smiling either meaningfully or with effort. This time he didn't laugh saying "Ok, right, carry on sitting". He was near to grab his little brother's collar.
- How long are you going to sit like a boy who made dirty? Is it so difficult to become a candidate? If there are sharks, who are opposing you, tell me, I'll hit their mouths with money! Or are you fool?!
       Brother turned his face away:
- You don't intervene, I have my own counts!
       Even though he was satisfied with the response, he wanted to tease his brother.  
- You are like a mathematician! Haven't your calculations ended?!
       Kenja begged now:
- Leave, don't burn my heart too, brother!..
       It has passed six months since then; at last, his brother defended the candidacy. He became a candidate. But here, he is fourty years old, but still he has not gotten any richer.
       Three months ago he has negotiated Tokhir for the study and dropped by his brother again:
- Are you sitting, brother?
- Sitting…
- Ok, good, you shouldn't lie down! - he sat down on the soft seat and threw a bunch of keys besides. - Here, I'm coming from the Politechnics University, to which I have spoken my son Tokhir to the department of aircraft construction!
- You can't stand without boasting, brother! The examinations haven't started yet?!
       He looked at his little brother reluctantly:
- It hasn't started to you and brother Sobir, but it has already finished for me, brother!
- Really!
- If you don't believe me, ask Tokhir! He is sitting in the car - downstairs!
When they came down, he told the truth.
- I don't know if you know him, the rector of the university is from Turkistan. I have enetered straight his office, taken a tiger-skin out of my bag and put it on his shoulder. "I am from Turkistan too, brother, this is - "over many cemetries" a memory from my travel to Australia, - said I. My brother is surprised! I intensified the method of stunning and placed the key before him: - This is also for you. It is from a "Mercedes"! It is standing downstairs brand new. And now tell me, do you want our aircraft manufacturing industry to develop? Our brother has livened up: "Well, why shouldn't we want it?" At that moment I posed the question across: "If you want it for real, you will accept my only son to the study! He is in the entrance. He has won a contest three times. He knows any of your airplanes from alpha to omega. If he doesn't improve this area, I'll change my name!" Our brother stood up from his seat nervously: "Ok, call your son!" He gave only two questions. And now you can find out the rest from Tokhir.
       Kenja looked at Tokhir, who was sitting in the back seat of the car. As he was silent, father went on with his speech.
- … it seems he was satisfied with his answer, our brother was excited: "Where, give me your documents!" Checking the documents, "Good! - he said. - In three months he can easily enter the university, why do you worry ahead?" "I'm sorry, brother! - I said. Usually the biggest camel gets strikes on the bridge; the best students fail to enter the university. That's why… The man named Qakhor has said "I will rub my place, which will itch after a year, in advance" I intend to rub only three months in advance. I don't want the boy to suffer tomorrow, brother!" Our brother grew more generous: "Ok, you can leave your documents and go back to Turkistan calmly taking these covers and keys of yours with you! Your son can attend the studies from the first September" said he. In general, he is a real man, a true man from Turkistan!..
       Qodir lied face down on the bed and whirled like a snake with a crushed head.
So, was this his goal? Was it to leave from himself or to come to himself? Is his largest dream to make his son enter the university, to encourage his little brother to defend, to take his mother to Khaj and regular things like that? When he has been striving for so many years like being able to hit a star without a ladder… Did he fly up to the sky as "Qodir flier" or lies flat on the ground? If he has ever flown, he flew once twenty three years ago, since then he has been crawling. And at the moment he is just lying on the ground inertly being unable even to crawl! Here is the destination he has arrived…
At that time as he returned back to Turkistan having been unable to translate the word "motor" into Uzbek he thought: why should I care? The people, who have been eating this tongue's "bread" working as terminologist, dictionary editor, publicist, song editor, novelist all their lives, are at such state, what can he do? Although I can't invent a flying horse, I can build another house, can travel abroad, and can be a father of one more son. He may handle such works, but he is unlikely to carry out this particular job! What to do, it seems he can not take his mother to Khaj. Where can he get fair hundred thousands sums on average working in the education sector? Is it possible to find this much money fairly in this system?!
       In order just to distract himself from the unpleasant thoughts, he whistled looking at the plain steppe, which seemed to rotate around him. As though there is no one in the world calmer and more worriless than him. He wasn't satisfied with it again and started to sing:
       Under the dark blue dome sky
       We are neither true Muslim, nor atheist nigh…
       This is the situation, he is deprived of spiritual enjoyment, and therefore, he jumps into the ocean of physical enjoyment. What else could he do? For the start he takes "the colonel sleep" with pleasure in the convenient colorful bed. He is not a colonel himself, but his father-in-law is! The man is not an ordinary colonel, but the grandchild of Vladimirovs, who wish to rule the world!..
       When he got up in the evening stretching greatly, he saw Vera sitting in front of mirror. She looked at him turning aside and asked:
- You are tired, Kolik? You slept so long!
- Yeah, right, I am tired! - Even though he felt himself like an ox at feeding, he agreed with wife and sighed deeply for its proof. - Your father has boasted saying "we also have many good places for rest". Shouldn't two of us go up to the places, Vera?
- It would be great … but what do we do with children?
- You see, Tokhir got accustomed to my mother. We will leave him to mother. We will give Venera to your mother. She needs to go to school in three months. Ok, let her study in Russian in Moscow?..
       Vera was glad from the sudden proposal. After a week-long preparation, they went to a trip to rest. On the way he dropped by his office. At the repair-mechanics plant his deputy wished him happy journey: "Rest as much as you like, I will take care of everything here…" The director of the technical institute bent side to side like a snake alluring a frog: "You are needed for not only our pedagogic, but also for the future of our industry, brother! We need your health! I will substitute you to deliver your lectures!.." It means everything is all right. His self-esteem experienced some delight. He has left Turkistan. In four hours they saw themselves in Tashkent, after another four hours in Moscow, and after the other four days on an uninhabited island in Amudarya. He has lived for forty years, seen more than half of the world up to that moment, for which he was proud, but hasn't seen or known the legendary island just under his nose! He couldn't even imagine that there was a wonderful hotel in the island. There - the great river, which splits into two and flows around you! There you have Uzbekistan on one side and Afghanistan on the other side! Here the island of miracles for you! The wild animals and trees you have never seen in your life: antelopes, poplins!.. It is truly called "The Island of a prophet"!
       No, it is not only the island of a prophet, but also the island of emperors! While Qodir sailed on the motor boat to the opposite side of the river and settled there, he had a conversation with a writer guy Mingziyo in Termez city. He had worked in the forest reserve of the island and was very smart, however, his knowledge was divided into two like the river: one - the history of prophets, another - the history of rulers. What can be done, on the land divided into five, ten, thousand is there anyone who is not divided into two! To be short the small portion of the second stream surprised Qodir. It is said, in the past the three world rulers - Alexander the Great, Chingizkhan, and Temurlane have rested on the island for quite a while. Is it really true? If so, why is it not called "Ruler's island"?
       Look at that! Standing on the miracle island, you start to believe in any miracle at once! Indeed, in the middle of the age, we had many fast horses. But at the moment… who is the owner of the island?!
       Since now - there is no one else, but him and his Vera, it means - he is! So, he should stop thinking and enjoy the ownership?!
       Yes, at that time, he has practiced the ownership of the "Prophet's island" for exactly three months. He enjoyed it so much that he had nearly choked off in the ocean of pleasure. The tasty food delivered three times a day on the motor boat has made them sick at last. He imagined himself as a ruler for several days, as a prophet for other several days. It is known only to God! Maybe to his father-in-law too?
       But Qodir is not fool too. If he wants he will fish on the island in Amudaryo River or on the island in Sirdaryo River. If he wants he will drop by his daughter Venera, who is studying in Moscow, or gather mushrooms in the outskirts of Moscow city. If he wants - he will travel to overseas.
       He still remembers, about seven years ago while he and Vera were staying in Hawaiian islands, suddenly … they met their countryman. The mountain doesn't meet mountain, but human does meet other human. And where, in the remote area like this. At that time seeing the black eyes of the obese man he was glad, but looking at his appearance he hesitated: isn't he a lucky Japanese businessman? His glance fell on the beautiful girl in atlas dress walking near him and it left no room for hesitation. He stretched his hand running to him:
- Assalomu aleykum, brother! Look where we met! Where are you from in Turkestan?..
The man didn't shake his hand. He continued his walk embracing the girl and waved his hand like he was driving away flies:
- Go, your partner is waiting for you!
       Qodir turned stubborn. Let him be a noisy fly! He went after his countryman and held his arm:
- I was glad to see my countryman on the island unattainable to a poor.
His countryman didn't reply. Instead, the charming girl in atlas gown replied maybe with an aim "to get rid of the problem" or out of naivety:
- The man is Mr. Oromov, Mr. Farogat Oromov!
- Your profession?
       His countryman must have thought he faced an unsolvable problem, therefore, started to talk:
- Are you a politician! You … are investigator, I think?..
       On the way back from the trip, he dropped by his little brother's place. During his conversation, he asked about "the politician Farogat Oromov". His brother pointed to the books ordered like beads on the bookshelf: "There, his speeches!" He took and looked through: "Assalom, jahon!", "The meetings in the regions" etc! He looked through the book "The meetings in the regions" There are details such as the trousers sewed in Calcutta, the beard shaved in Canada, but … when will the story about meeting in Hawaii be written?! Or maybe this one … will be written by his PhD pupil, the charming girl?..
       At that time, he said "Very good!" for the first time. "I had been considering myself a dare-devil! - he thought. - In fact, the soil of Turkistan is incomparable in bringing up the clever and ambitious too!"
From that time on he quit all foreign trips, islands and beaches, the thousands of attractions of the relaxation: "Enough! I am fed up!" Returning home, he became a hermit. He shows up at work once in a week or not, he is busy with reading all day long, even to see Venera he sends his wife and remains at home alone. It is good that he has filled up the large room with books! All of them are rare books unavailable even to the wealthy! At times he liked to boast to his friends: "Here is my wealth! I have been collecting for forty years. When I resign I will read them all!.." It is better to finish work earlier. Since, there are an opportunity and an interest, should he wait for resignation! He was pleased with reading one, he didn't understand another, and he was frustrated reading the other one.
       He was disappointed with the Uzbek literature and turned to his last enthusiasm, last support, and last hope - Tokhir. He has prepared everything necessary for his good studying. His lessons, which started from teaching him how to fly a kite, ended with showing him how to make the last model airplanes controlled from the ground fight in the sky. Their lessons started from the story about Dedar and Ikar and ended with a description of the current state of the aircraft industry in the world and Turkestan. His wish followed his theoretical lessons and practical seminars: "I wanted to fly aiming high, my son, what I could do, at the beginning I was deprived of my iron wings. Then I stayed on the ground, but my lust grew high into the sky. At the moment, thanks God, my lust quite slowed down, but now, you see, I have a pain, but don't have strength! From now on, I have the pain and you will find a cure for it, Tokhirjon!.."
       While he was delighted with his son's sharp and quick mind, pure and free soul … it started a movement "perestroika". One, perhaps the only benefit of the movement was that the man Peter Ivanovich Vladimirov, who was striving for the Indian ocean and passing the Khayraton bridge back and forth from Turon land to Afghan land and vice versa, returned to this side of the bridge permanently. Not only returned to this side, but went back to Moscow. Not only went back, but also resigned. He didn't only resign. … Possibly his heart could not endure the life of being the lonely husband to his lonely wife, or possibly missing his only grandchild, who had transferred study from Moscow to Rio de Janeiro, or possibly suffering from going in opposite direction of the destination his grandfather "Vladimir" had indicated, anyway, he died over night! If he wishes him heavens, he knows for sure, his place is in hell. If he says "For a dog, there is a dog's death", he realizes it is his father-in-law. Anyway, he felt a relief. He felt so relieved that it seemed a powerful hand took away the sword hanging above his head and broke in his eyes! He felt so relieved that he wanted to fly happily in the sky like a pigeon.
       It is said correctly that "Wet and dry burn equally when a fire starts in the forest". The storm of "perestroika" began blowing fiercely not only above his father-in-law, but in all parts of the country. The staff of the plant split into two - "conservatives" and "radicals". One "radical" man, who had been aiming his position for many years, told him "If it were in my power, I would build a reservoir in one of the Hawaiian Islands and send more than forty leaders to that place, so that they wouldn't hinder the reconstruction we have started!" No matter how dare-devil Qodir was, he couldn't have told such a thing. He was so surprised. Oh good heavens! For fifty years you have been seeking fault in people, have been expelling, blackening, killing so many beautiful minds, aren't you still satisfied? You became a grave, when you were satisfied? Is this the place you arrived wandering like a headless rider?
He understood how it was dangerous the way "radicals" were acting! He said "No, I don't want to see the Hawaiian Islands any more, I have seen everything" and resigned voluntarily. While it didn't get complicated, he gave up his lectures at the technical institute. He shut the brick house in Turkistan under a lock and went to his house in village. He constrained himself to his strong house. "My Hawaiian Island, my last resort, my grave is this Qorachiq! Let them have the works! He has enough wealth to live through the perestroika even if he does not work for a long time. Let them enjoy perestroika themselves!"
       He was able to run away from the woes and freed himself from the works, but couldn't get rid of the bad thoughts. As he lied in the soft bed - he swirled like a snake and couldn't reach the bottom of his thoughts. Oh my God! Where is the world heading to? Where has the time brought him and where is it taking him to now?! Is this the place he has been aiming at eagerly for a quarter of century! While he was living with dreams "I finally got rid of the disaster, and now Turkistan will experience a prosperity, its light and heavy industries will develop, its plants will see national spirit and flying horse!" … he was pushed to the side of the stream trying to run away from strikes as "the enemy of perestroika", "conservatives", and many others! Look at this hero Qodir! Moreover, who are the people, who pushed the hero Qodir to the side and attained their goals? If your goal is to make a real reconstruction, if you think about the nation's interests and not of your own, do you destroy yourselves by expelling the people like the hero Qodir to Hawaiian Islands instead of using their bitter experience, you scoundrels?!.



…

- It seems, my friend, your house has been built by the collective farm's budget. When are you going to repay the money? - said he.
- What, is it not enough? - he intended to speak loudly, the chairman grew more angry.
- Enough-not enough, you go to prison to the chairman to get even with him! But here  … pay the money for the house… otherwise it is needed for a kindergarten…
- Ok, brother, I will pay it and placed his arm on his chest.
       Next day he entered the accounting office and paid the house's money completely.
       At home his wife had news.
- For a year we haven't been able to visit neither mother, nor Venerochka. How has she been doing in a foreign country? Can we go there?
       You are talking about Rio-de-Janeiro wife! I am hardly fitting this Qorachiq! I have just lost half of what I had been gathering to get rid of a problem! - he wanted to tell, but how could he say that. Therefore, he told:
- All right, we will go. For now, tell you mother, when holidays start, to ask our girl to come here!
       Right, paying the double price of a single house, he didn't get poor! He has got a magnificent brick house near Khazrat Sultan and a treasure in it, a "Mercedes" in its yard. But they are for the three of them, for Tokhir, moreover, for rainy days. There is about a year to enter Tokhir to a university. But, are those rainy days starting right now?

       He lied in the fluffy bed and whirled: he has lived very badly. He didn't live as one should. He has lived putting himself at stake like in gambling!
       He realized that he always wanted to be the First, first of all to be ahead of his brother Sobir. But, it is funny; he could even reach him not speaking about being ahead of him. There, Sobir's twelve sons and four daughters are standing near him. He has been able to build houses for two of them, to marry four sons and to see six weddings. All his children are very strong. The food they eat is very modest, do they get thick from water, or something! How about himself? He has got only a son and daughter after so much effort! Who is he going to give his daughter and be relatives?! As for Tokhir… Right, he has big hopes for his son. But he is so thin and weak, should a boy be like that?!.
       He has led very restless life! If he flies, can't land and vice versa. In general, does life blow and play light person like that? His brother? He has been living on the motherland coupled like a grass.
       Even his little brother Kenja, whose foolishness he used to mock, turned out to be smarter than in reality. Here, he is living in great Tashkent. He is a father of five. Candidate of Science. Soon he will become a Doctor of Philosophy. And he… can fit neither Earth, nor sky! Like a wandered, tries to jump over Amudarya river. He noticed he actually was only kicking one place!..
       He got tired of thinking. It is necessary to work instead of thinking! It is essential to use brains like Afandi, the brains! He needs to teach a lesson to those, who are trying to crush him! That sucker chairman… doesn't know him yet! Is this kid the equal of Qodir powerful?!
       So, what should he do? When he came home, mother and child were drinking tea. He greeted them and passed ahead. There was a strange silence after their greetings. The mother and child looked at each other secretly as they were drinking tea. The meaning of their look is clear to every Turkistanian! "You were very rare, what wind blew you here?" - asked mother's eyes. "What can I do, I don't have any other place to go, but father's house!" - replied Qodir's eyes.
Then Davlat and Shukhrat entered and quickly greeting with the people sitting around table started to complain: the new chairman is going to plant cotton on the land which we have tilled!
       His thoughts became clear and an extraordinary plan came to his mind.
- Don't hurry! Nowadays it evolves the cooperative, communal and so on. Taking advantage of the time should not we create a family communal? What do you say, brother? What if we till the land in Cho'chqako'l again and grow melons? You do the farming; I will take the responsibility of negotiating the land and providing with finances and machinery.
       His brother hesitated:
- How will it be?
       Qodir went on persuasion:
- It will be wonderful! Here, you will see. You remember what melons used to ripe in the past. At those times, melons cost very cheap. At present, it is worth of gold!
       Taking brother's consent, he went to chairman next day. So and so, you land us a deserted land, a forsaken "DT" tractor, a combine "Vladimirov" and a truck. We will take care of the land as well as the machinery. In fall you will receive a certain ton of crop.
       He agreed with the chairman and started all over: he entered his dear garage and first of all he stopped at a "DT" among forsaken tractors. He took spare parts from the warehouse and made it as new in two days. Joining trailer to it, taking brother Sobir's son Khikmat near him headed to Cho'chqako'l. He plowed about thirty hectares of field as well as taught his "one of thousand trades" to his nephew.
In spring brother Sobir along with his sons joined them…
       All was going well, where the hell that unprecedented disease clung onto stems and hastened brothers. Like a proverb "I do thirty, my lord makes it nine", is it possible that the thirty hectare field will turn to a desert and all their effort will turn to nine coins?! No, it is not acceptable. A measure needs to be found! Even if that measure is on the other side of the world, it needs to be found!
       He opened "the treasure" in his brick house and looked for a solution in Chimkent, then in Alma-Ata, at last in Toshkent, but in vain. Finally he visited his countryman, who worked in Toshkent institute of soil science. At that place he heard a word of hope: it was said on one of the experimental lands of VASHNIL it was being tested an unusual drug. It was miraculous that it could revive withered plants. He flew straight to Moscow. On the train traveled to outskirt of the city. He found the institute.        The "pillars" of the institute confirmed those words:
- It is true; we have invented such a drug. We have already tested it in Chernobyl province in Ukraine, in Baltic and Caucasus regions! But…
- What! Are the results good? - Qodir asked nervous with the indolence of the scientists.
- The result is better than we expected, but…
- What else? Do you need greenbacks? If you need, be frank?! - he became impatient.
- It is not about greenbacks! But… we don't know how the drug works in hot regions.
- Why don't you?! Having destroyed the land and water, plants and animals of the region, now you don't know?! You have done all the mess and now are you saying "you are on your own, do whatever you want"?!
       They wondered like they saw an African giraffe. They probably feared the scandal to grow, who knows, the more Qodir spoke highly, the more they tried to lower and defend themselves:
- Our saying don't know doesn't mean we don't want it. What can we do, at the moment we are unable. Let us finish the tests in Azerbaijan and Georgia, Ok, next is your turn.
       Qodir didn't relax.
- What should we do until then?! Do our plants go on to wither? No, friends…
- What do you suggest, then?!
       At the moment Qodir was glad with his ability to see far. He put the melon taken with its soil and wrapped into cellophane in front of the scholars:
- Please! This is our state…
… A miracle occurred before his eyes, the withered plant recovered and enliven!
- Now, dear brothers, could you tell me if any unpleasant circumstances were observed during the tests? - said he just in case.
-  No, it is going very well.
- What about crop? How is the crop?!
- For instance, in Chernobyl we sprayed it to mushrooms. A mushroom produced nearly thousands of mushrooms!
       Qodir's blood boiled.
- I will surely take your drug with me.
- But we have to warn, when we applied it on the stones in Indian mountains, it didn't grow flower in the stones.
- Don't worry; we will not sow the drug on the stones, but on the steppe! - said Qodir.
- If you are happy with it, Ok, dear friend!..
- I invite you to the melon party in fall, brothers!
       He took drugs sufficient for thirty hectares and flew back.
       In general, sometimes one can easily fool not only Uzbek's businessman, but also Turk's very skillful businessman as well. The reason is he is very simple and credulous from nature.
       No matter how skillful Qodir is, he is simple-hearted Uzbek. True, he is not stupid, but simple! Otherwise, would not have he comprehended underlying reason at that time?! To realize it, was it necessary for his brother to raise an axe?!
       Alas, as you sow, so shall you reap. At that time he not only believed in unselfishness of humans, but also convinced his brother as well. They didn't see disease, nor axe, nor spade. To be more accurate, they saw only the "pure profit" they were expecting from the miraculous drug, which was way better than niter. As he with his brother excitedly watched the melons to flourish, he evaluated the profit at nights: the melons ripen in entire thirty hectares… If the melons are sold in Turkistan markets back to back! Let's say it will be gained 40 tons of crops from each hectare!.. Overall it means one thousand two hundred tons! If it is sold without loss and the sales are organized well, then considering each ton to cost one thousand, it can be obtained one million two hundred thousand soums. From it, say, two hundreds go away. If a hundred thousand covers expenditures, a hundred thousand is paid to the chairman, he will give one hundred thousand to his brother Sobir!.. Look, they are all glad, naturally, seven hundred thousands are pure profit… For hundred thousands of the profit he will take his mother to Khaj (It is necessary fair money for Khaj, doesn't "pure profit" mean "fair money"?), moreover, he will bring machinery for a small firm from Saudi Arabia or Turkey or bring at least their projects!.. The remaining one million is for running the machinery and living light-heartedly…
       On early days of the evaluation season of the results he started to believe in the reality of his estimations.
       Right, the guy, who did medical test of the first truck of melons, worried him a little:
- I can not let you sell this, brother! - said he looking at him pitifully. It contains poison!
- Poison? What, nowadays the niter has disappeared… where it comes to the melons from, brother! If you have a problem, tell it frankly!
       The guy either didn't understand Qodir's hints or something else didn't pay attention.
- To be frank, I wonder myself, brother.
       From the reviser's attitude he understood that his problem is money! As he put a batch of tens into the guy's pocket he said what needed to be said:
- Now, brother, there is a little amount, nothing bad will happen! There, in Uzbekistan people are eating, drinking the whole poison and aren't dying. It seems it is said correctly that poison cuts poison. Like a small amount of honey is useful, a small amount of poison is also a cure.
       The inserted money probably softened his heart, the guy agreed.
Thus, they worked for three days nonstop. On the fourth day he was counting the hundred thousandth soum, the guy, who had permitted to sell, came running nervously and led him aside:
- People have been getting poisoned from your melons. Militia has received a complaint. Haven't I told you?
       He saw the miserable state of the guy and felt sorry for him. "It is so difficult to find lump sum! - he thought inside. "You need to put your soul at stake!" But he kept it from him and pacified him:
- Those at militia are also thirsty, brother! I will take care of it myself, don't worry about it! Its solution is money.
       The guy grew more anxious:
- It is good if it settles down, what if a problem comes up… throw us in prison?
       Starter calmed the reviser down:
- Why do you panic! You have a heart! I said I had the share of militia!
       Coming back, he sent the next empty truck to Cho'chqako'l.

(to be continued)
ORQAGA        UY
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