Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

Letters of Mizhappar

(The short novel)

(In loving memory of the great humorist of Uzbekistan Hadjibay Tadjibayev)

The 9th letter of Mizhappar

Hi, Mr. Sitmarat!

Today we again went to the city to visit the legendary commander who put his wise head on the chopping block of the executioner in the name of the future of our people, leader of our party Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy. There we saw doctors who stood in the yard and they told us to wait as in this institution pass presidential elections, and there is a vote counting. Hearing this news, we were stunned.
- What presidential election?! Here is you and democracy! Why don't we know anything about this?! We would also participate in the presidential elections! We know you organized all these elections on purpose when our party leader fell ill. How many candidates participate in these so-called elections?! Why don't people know about it?! It's not fair! It is a total dictatorship! - I screamed in rage.
- Yes, here I completely agree with You, Dr. Mizhappar. I will tell you frankly that there is only one candidate in this election, and he promises to improve the life of our people by making bread free. Therefore, there is no doubt that this candidate to win races for a presidential chair - the chief physician of hospital with confidence told.
- I wanted to argue with the head doctor, but the noise that rose, suppressed my voice.
-Step aside! The President is in his cart! To lay all and not to raise their heads! Not that, we'll just be forced to open fire to kill! - shouted, the person who stood on the cart, having put on the face a mask and holding the wooden automatic machine in hands.
-Get down! - the chief physician told and himself the first lay down on the crude earth as though military helicopters and fighters flew "Shark" to strike blow to the territory of mental hospital carpet bombing. By order of the chief doctor, the other doctors and nurses followed him. We look, - from-for medical cases there was a crowd of mentally ill, and, pushing the cart with wheels from a tractor, went towards an arbor where visitors usually sit with the mentally ill relatives. Seeing this, we froze, as if in photographs. Because on the cart sat the leader of our party, the great and valiant hero of his era leader of our party Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy  wise. When the cart stopped, leader of our party Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy got up and started talking:
- Dear relatives on disease! Thanks to everyone who voted for me! I knew it would be that way! Now you and I will kick out of our psychiatric hospital all these doctors and nurses with educators who want to treat us! They have no place in this sacred institution! We now have unlimited freedom and will be with you to privatize medical buildings, developing small and medium business. First, we'll knock down all these trees and plow these flower beds, turn them into fields, and plant a pumpkin there! We have enough forces and funds for this, comrades brothers on disease! Let these doctors who suffer from paranoia, schizophrenia and epilepsy roll their way! We have our own way, which leads to a bright future!
I see, one mentally ill person constantly writes down in a pencil in the notebook everything that to speak  leader of our party Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy. Another patient warmly applauded by the president of the mentally ill, Qurumboy.
-Hurrah-ah-ah! - the crowd of mentally ill people cried in one voice.
We, Mamadiar, Yuldashvoy and I, too, went to the wagon to congratulate our super-leader  Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy wise with a Grand victory in the presidential election.
-  Comrade commander! Please accept my congratulations on behalf of the members of our party on the Grand victory in the presidential election! We are happy for you, and we believe that You are quite worthy of it! We also know and firmly believe that democracy and freedom of thought will flourish in our country now more than ever! Our people will now have free access to information and world news, that is, there will be no restrictions and censorship in the media! Remember, the comrade commander, we are in the years of exile were waiting for a political spring and built a huge birdhouse for birds of happiness "Gamayun". You lived in a foreign country then and were the leader of the United opposition. Remember? That came the spring that We have been waiting for! - I said, wiping away tears of joy with a green beret of Legionnaire paratroopers.
But,  leader of our party Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy not know me, nor Yuldashvoy or Mamadiar. On the contrary, pointing to me with his tarpaulin boot without a sole, indignantly shouted:
-   Who else?! Why is he yelling at me?! Is he a badass or something?! What is the political spring and what kind of a bird such as, Gamayun?! What freedom of thought, what democracy?! What kind of opposition he says, I do not understand at all! What is the opposition?! Yes, this opposition must be destroyed! They are not the opposition, they are terrorists! They should be caught like stray cats and put in a cage, that is, in prison! They have no right to exist in this world! They are the enemies of our long-suffering people! What do you see?! Catch them! Kill them!
Hearing this, the mentally ill attacked us like a tribe of hungry cannibals in the rain forests.
We, of course, in time made feet and ran to gate. The sick were still chasing after us, but they didn't catch up, because we were running at a breakneck speed. It is good that the gate was open, and we managed to escape. Fortunately the bus stop was the bus, and we managed to get in it. Although I was doing karate and have a simple, black pants belt with a crocodile pattern, I was still scared to death. Here I sit now in my cabin and write you a letter, still shaking my knees. Okay, Mr. Sitmrat round out your short letter and for the sake of security, the carcass of a kerosene lamp. Say Hello to everyone... Poof!.. Oh, man, the kerosene lamp fell off the table!.. A -a-a-a-a, uh, lit my jacket! Help me!.. Oh, thank God the flames went out... Okay, good night, Mr.Sitmrat.
With fear for tomorrow,  - the guard of leader of our party Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy - matial artist Mizhappar.

27 April, 2008,
12 hours, 24 minutes of the night.
The Collective Farm "Chapaev".





Холдор Вулкан

Член Союза писателей Узбекистана

Я выпью луну со льдом звезд

Оледенелые звезды сосульками звенят,
Бездомные псы тявкают в тиши.
Хожу тихо, чтобы не разбилось, гремя,
Звенящее вечное зеркало душы.

В котором ты отражаешься до сих пор,
Со вкусом поцелуя на мягких губах.
Где ветры на фоне заснеженных гор,
Рвали облакам паруса рубах.

Помню твои слезы и сказанные слова,
В той светлой ночи влюбленного поэта.
Ты искренно плакала как на ветру трава,
И как хотелось мне верить в это...

Доносится дробь железного скакуна,
Блестят под луной стволы берез.
В колодезном ведре отражается луна,
Я выпью ее со льдом звезд.

10:47 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.


Безлюдную дорогу вылизивает туман

Словно заброшенный хутор в глуши,
Плачет листопад золотыми слезами.
Тихая осень, ты музыка моей души,
Я слушаю тебя глазами.

На лугу тишина, во рту  с кляпом,
Деревья хмельные пьян да рвань.
Пугало грустит в соломенной шляпе,
Безлюдную дорогу вылизивает туман.

Звеня сосульками едет очевидно,
Зима на тройке седовласая мадам.
Отвернись, осень, как тебе не стыдно?
Там деревья, одетые как Адам!

9:31 утра.
Канада, Онтерио.

Нет, дождь не плачет

Мчится всадник к мельницам, это,
Ветер - с печальными глазами рыцарь.
Под листопадом тихо уходит лето,
Чешуи золотой русалки - листья.

Ветер как в ракушке морской стон,
Крылатые караваны потянулись на юг.
Дождь прослезился, это от того что,
На столе горький, нарезанный лук.

Пусть царапает в тишине стекла окон,
Дождик серым и колючим ежом.
Думая о далеких днях ненароком,
Ты не порежь свои пальчики ножом.

9:14 утра.
Канада, Онтерио

Свет, который ты на окнах зажгла

Кружатся снежинки в метели и в ней,
Деревья аукая ищут друг друга.
Как песок сквозь пальцы сыпется снег,
Дверь одиночества отпирает вьюга.

Снежинки как пыль гудящих лавин,
Я закрою дверь с трудом на замок.
Чтобы тихо глядя в трескучий камин,
Задуматься вновь о тебе я мог.

Поседевшая вьюга воет со зла,
С белыми наушниками в ушах.
К свет, который ты на окнах зажгла,
Словно мотылек стремится душа.

8:21 вечера.
Канада, Онтерио.

Бежали волны, спотыкаясь о камни

Белая бумага на столе моем лежит,
Напоминая мне далекие белые ночи.
И зимнюю мглу где тихо снежит,
Когда город спит, не смыкая очи.

Она и раньше так безмолвно лежала,
Как лунный берег детства давный.
Где ко мне на встречу дружно бежали,
Белые волны, спотыкаясь о камни.

Чем она не рассвет тихий и бледный,
Она росой поседевший утренний луг.
Над которым жаворонков веселые трели,
Сиротливый полет бабочек вокруг.

Как напоминает она сентябрские поля,
Где народ мой собирает хлопок.
Она больно похожа на белые тополя,
На белизну луной освещенных тропок.

От этой безлюдной безмолвной белизны,
Не сложно человеку сойти с ума.
Где мчится крикливо скакун железный,
И на меня из лужи смотрит луна.

10:40 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.

Бросились с моста в воду фонари

Росистый луг плачет все тише и тише,
Не смахивая росу как слезы с ресниц.
Луна поднимается все выше и выше,
По ступенкам невидимых лесниц.

На бродячем ветру шелестят березы,
О чем, я не знаю, невозможно понять.
В васильковом небе далекие звезды,
Алыми рябиновыми гроздями горят.

Забеременили от ветра занавески,
За открытыми окнами плакали комары.
Не издавая звуки и грохоты резкие,
Бросились с моста в воду фонари.

10:33 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.


Глядя лужам в бездонные глаза

Березовый лист приобрел покой,
Болтаясь грустно в паутинной петле.
Подхватывает листву невидимой рукой,
Прямо в воздухе безногий ветер.

Дорожки бульвара устланы листвой,
Закат медленно угасающий камин.
Листья - порванное в клочья письмо,
Истекают кровью кисти рябин.

Потерью деревьев не восполнить ничем,
Последние листья на ветру дрожат.
О рыжая осень, ты задумалась о чем,
Глядя лужам в бездонные глаза?

5:45 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.


Там, где васильки синеглазые растут

Знойное лето тишине внемлет,
Горлинка тоскливо воркует в роще.
Тишина в тени деревьев дремлет,
Разинув рты зевают голошы.

Бабочки по палисадам как в раю бродят,
Зеленеют ряской зеркальные затоны.
Где отражения свои роняя в воду,
Кувшинки белые раскроют бутоны.

Сквозь марево на дальные дороги,
Из под ладони глядит пастух.
В пойме реки мирно пасутся коровы,
Где васильки синеглазые растут.

12:13 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.


Я брожу по парку в рваной куртке

В дальных дубравах дремлют туманы,
Как пушистая вата, как хлопок.
В паутинный шелк запутались буряны,
Вдоль луговых заросших тропок.

Осень женщина губастая как утка,
Разбрасывает золото, не прося сдачи.
Я брожу по парку в рваной куртке,
Перелетным птицам пожелая удачи.

Шуршит метлой дворник в кепке,
Клин журавлиный в небе трубил.
Бедный листопад все шепчет и шепчет,
Имя девушки, которая он любил.

11:45 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.

Будто все это я вижу во сне

Уснувшие поляны криками будя,
Что есть мочи не каркают вороны.
Не плачут как летом, печально гудя,
В замерзшей реке паромы.

На просторы тихо и бесшумно легли,
Белые дюны - снежные барханы.
То прямо то коса летя во мгле,
Снежинки кружатся, порхают.

Даль уснула заснеженными лесами,
Будто все это я вижу во сне.
И как околдованный человек я часами,
Гляжу из низкого окна на снег.

5:40 дня.
Канада, Онтерио

Как звезды дрожат усталые огни

Видны водоросли под прозрачной водой,
В тишине из пруда выскакивают рыбки.
У полуночного ветра начался запой,
Шляется он невидимый и гибкий.

А лягушкам наверно надоело петь,
Потухли окна и уснули все.
Сумрак отдаляющим мопедом храпит,
Тявкают лениво бездомные псы.

В тишине слышно как трава шелестит,
Просторы лугов освещает луна.
На траве тонкая паутина блестит,
Словно оборванная струна.

Луна все сияет, безмолвье кругом,
Снова с тишиной мы остались одни.
За сумрачным полем, за дальным лугом,
Как звезды дрожат усталые огни.

10:42 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.

Поседел от горе одуванчик бедный

Устало выглядит сентябрское солнце,
Так быстро и незаметно прошло лето.
Жизнь одуванчика подходит к концу,
Боже, как страшно все это.

Птицы тоже улетают за синее море,
Листья деревьев золотистые и медные.
Всего за одну ночь на лугу от горе,
Поседел одуванчик бедный.

Тут ветер разгильдяй бездельник лопух,
Задул и пушинки тихо полетели.
Белые легкие, похожие на пух,
Словно снежные хлопья в метели.

11:02 ночи.
Канада, Онтерио.


Кружатся воронкой комары

Вечерней росой умывается трава,
Глухая тишина вот вот заговорит.
Она любит пение сверчков как слова,
Когда кружатся воронкой комары.

Огненные облака на закате догорает,
Пожар этот не перекинется на поляны.
Потом луна через крыши сарая,
На сумрачные поля молча глянет.

Освещаются луга все шире и шире,
Заблестит паутина как стальные нервы.
Небо как колокол повисает над миром,
У которого язык вырван.

1:08 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.

Осенний сон

Стая птиц растает в тумане,
Под серым небосклоном какраз.
Мачты деревьев с парусом рваным,
Как хамелеон меняют окрас.

Сорвана с лица осени вуаль,
Ветром, который по полянам рышет.
Исполняя свой последний ритуал,
Бабочка в лугах что то ищет.

Маскируются листвой грибы,
Листья тихо кружатся с трухой.
Журавлиная стая прощально трубит,
На скамье дремлет старик глухой.

7:38 утра.
Канада, Онтерио.

Осенняя галерея

Зачем мне Венеция, Эрмитаж и Питер,
Зачем мне Лувр и шумный Париж?
Когда за окном тихо гуляет ветер,
И клен канадский полыхает горит.

Вот пришла осень золотая снова,
Я камнем замераю от восторга у окон.
Опавшие кленовые листья словно,
Золотые чешуи добрых дракон.

Жаль, что скоро прямо на глазах,
Пейзаж с осенними березами дивный,
Со стекла окон горькими слезами,
Смоют ноябрские ливни.

11:30 дня.
Канада, Онтерио.




Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

"Letters of Mizhappar"

(The short novel)

(In loving memory of the great humorist of Uzbekistan Hadjibay Tadjibayev)

The 8th letter of Mizhappar

-Dear Mr. Sitmirat, early this morning, when I came to the headquarters office, a strange thing happened. That is, Qurumboy, looking at my tarpaulin boots, said:
- I order, on behalf of the revolutionary Committee, to immediately take off your boots, fellow Mizhappar!
- Why, Comrade camindon? Did a Scorpion or a spider (black widow) get into my boots? - I was surprised.
- Put it down, comrade! Don't ask stupid questions! The commander's order is not negotiable! Revolution on the verge of disaster! - Qurumboy shouted.
I had to remove my boots. Qurumboy took them off with a screwdriver pulled out of the sole.
- Comrade camindon these boots are my only shoes! What is this vandalism?! - I asked in surprise.
- Comrade, Mizhhappar, remember once and for all-secret agents of the special services can install a listening device in the form of small microphone chips in the soles of our boots. For this reason, we, and our loved ones should immediately to tear off the heels from their boots - said Qurumboy, giving me my boots back. Now we have boots without heels. Yuldashvoy and Mamadiar too.
- I think they've installed their listening devices in my house, too. So, today we have to do operation "cleansing" in my house. Forward, comrades! - said Qurumboy.
We dutifully followed the comrade commander. What to do? We're soldiers. And the soldiers must obey their commanders, unquestioningly carrying out their orders.
We go, one day on the street and see the guys near the school, who were returning home. There's one boy, the nephew of Qurumboy named Tuqumboy, ran to say Hello to his nephew. He immediately stopped him:
- Stay where you are and don't move! - he said in a loud voice. Tuqumboy afraid, is poor, as soldier stepped on an anti-tank land mine in the hot spot of the planet, weight pale.
- Come on, take off your shoes and throw them to me! - said Qurumboy. His nephew, not understanding what was happening, removed his shoes and gave it to his uncle. Qurumboy took the shoes and with a screwdriver and removed the sole. Then put the shoes back. Seeing this, the crowd of students laughed, some of them with astonishment, with fear and watched the strange process. Qurumboy again ordered his nephew to give him his backpack. He gave his uncle, who ripped the bag to shreds with his rusty dagger.
-Uncle! Don't! What're you doing?! - exclaimed Tuqumboy.
- I should check set whether the intelligence agencies are in your backpack! - Qurumboy, continuing to tear the backpack of Tuqumboy. Tuqumboy cried. Seeing this, comarades and classmates fearing , the students fled. Then we went in the direction of Lattaqishlaq, where he lived as Qurumboy. Seeing us, the mother of Qurumboy was happy. Qurumboy greeted her.
-  Are you alive my, son? Where did you go to? You've changed, grown a beard. Did you become a religious man? I guess you pray five times a day and you lose weight. Oh, was your father alive, he'd be happy to see your progress in the area of politics and religion - said the mother of Qurumboy, hugging his son.
- Thank you Mom, for your kind words concerning my humble political activities. But, I'll tell you a secret, that my beard is not insisted, that is, from the skin of the dog, which we ate. Yes, you don't lose the gift of speech, we ate it not in raw,  fried, and sometimes boiled. About religion, you're right, I've become a religious man. My faith is disbelief. My idols Charles Darwin Karl Marx and Vladimir Lenin! - said Qurumboy.
Then he gave us an order that we would be armed with crowbars, axes, nail-makers and all sorts of other tools. We carried out his order and lined up in one line in anticipation of the further decree. Qurumboys picked up the hoe and ordered us to pull out the floors and ceilings of the rooms to check if there is somewhere an eavesdropping bug. We got to work, and Qurumboy, too. He began to hit with a hoe on the wall and from it the plaster began to crumble to the floor. Seeing this, the mother of Qurumboy asked in disbelief:
- What you doing?! What else has crossed your mind! Wait! Qurumboy, son, what's wrong?! Don't destroy it! Your late father would turn in his grave! Stop right now!- she begged.
But we continued to work. Then the mother of Qurumboy began to call people to help.
People, vigilantes! Help me! He is destroying my house! My son is out of his mind!  she screamed.
After hearing the plea of the poor mother, she went in the house owened by Shishrilda who works in the mosque.
- What happened, why are you shouting for help? - he asked.
The mother of Qurumboy cried even louder:
- Oh Mullah Shishrilda, God himself must have sent help! My son and his accomplices are destroying the house! You're a Mullah, after all, maybe they'll listen to you. Talk to them, please - she said.
Mullah Shishrilda went into the room where Qurumboy worked  and said:
- Hello, my son! Stop! Parents ' home for a man as a temple! Destroying the temple is considered a terrible sin! Come to your senses, my son! - said Shishrilda ibn Osrilda. Qurumboy suddenly attacked Mullah Shishrilda like a tiger that rushes at the deer and grabbed him by the throat with tenacious fingers. Mulla Shishrilda began to snore from suffocation. His mouth and eyes widened from the lack of air to an incredible size from fright.
- Who are you?! Tell me, who sent you?! Who do you work for?! Who's your handler, you say, you bastard?! Or I'll rip your mangy beard off alive!  Qurumboy, jerking the Mullah's beard. Here the Mullah lost his mustache with a beard. Qurumboy from fright temporarily released the throat of the Mullah, and he sat on his knees and began to beg:
- Mr. Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy, don't kill me! For God's sake!I'll tell you. Yes, I really work closely with the internal Affairs bodies, informing them about the events in the Chapaev collective farm on a daily basis. I work as a set-up Mullah in a local mosque. What can I do about it? That's my credo, my business, you know?! I have a big family, that is, I have many wives. Their total number in my harem is fifteen beautiful and young women. If you let me live, I'll give you the most beautiful one! I swear! My wives are still very young, and they will be lost without me! The oldest wife was only sixteen. Let's make a deal! You let me go back home, and I in return will release your sins on all four sides! You will get, as they say, to Paradise without interrogations and examinations.
At this time, a buzzing siren, with a car came which came from the mental hospital, and out of it came a team of doctors with nets in their hands, with which veterinarians catch stray dogs in landfills and in city alleys. Apparently, one of the villagers managed to call a mental hospital. But Qurumboy immediately took Mullah Shishrilda hostage and began to dictate his terms. In case of failure to comply with his requirements, he threatened to kill the fake Mullah of the local mosque, sacrificing him to the birthday of his idol, Satan.
Then the doctors quietly loaded the gun with a silencer, and shot Qurumboy using a bullet with a tranquilizer. Qurumboy managed not to kill Mullah Shishrilda ibn Osrilda, and in a few minutes fell with a clatter on the floor. After that, he calmly picked it up, put on a stretcher and pushed the stretcher along with Qurumboy in the carriage. And we, pretending to be a victim, remained at large.

The next day, we, that is, Yuldashvoy, Mamadiyar and I, cooked a therapeutic soup from a dog for our sick man, who was taken to the hospital. Then poured the soup into a thermos and went to the city to visit the permanent and valiant leader of our party, Commissioner Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy.

When I saw the mental hospital, my jaw dropped in surprise. Around the huge trees, all shady and cool, clean benches, especially the track, which is buried in the greenery and thickets of colorful marvelous white roses. There is peace and quiet around like a resort. From the Windows of the medical corps of smile politely sick in the striped pajamas. We saw, our friend and Director of our party Qurumboy engaged in whitewashing of trees in lime, with the help of a broom. He was dressed, like other patients, in striped pajamas without buttons, on his feet he had boots with cut off tops. On his head he slapped a paper hat made from the newspaper " Yosh leninchi " Near him stood a doctor in a white coat. When we came up and said Hello, Qurumboy didn't recognize us. Just looking at the thermos of medicinal soup, asked a strange question.
- Tell me, friend, what is the weight of this your thermos? Hearing this, we cried. Fate, huh? Such a wise and intelligent man...
- Eh...  I thought.
Then the doctor got mad at Qurumboy and hit him on the head with a wooden sledgehammer. The result is a paper hat of Qurumboy flew off, revealing his tonsured head like a badly mow field of rye. Seeing this, we cried in chorus. It turns out the most important thing in a person is health.

With great respect, guard of Qurumboy martial artist Mizhappar.

March 30, 2008, 12 hours and 30 minutes at night.





Холдор Вулқон

Ўзбекистон Ёзувчилари уюшмасининг аъзоси


Жасоратли журналист Муҳаммад Бекжоннинг "Алвидо, Жаслиқ!" китоби тўғрисида

Аслида бир икки жумласига кўз югиртирилиши биланоқ, дарров у ёки бу асарнинг қай даражада ёзилгани, ёзувчининг бадиий диди, истеъдод даражаси тўғрисида аниқ ташхис, тасаввур ҳосил бўлади ва у асарни ўқиш ё ўқимаслик қарори олинади.

Олтиндан ҳам қиммат вақтини ва кўз нурини бехуда сарф қилмаслик учун, ё муаллифнинг истеъдод даражаси ўртамиёнадан ҳам пастлиги сабаб, ё дейлик "асар" диний ёки дунёвий фанат тамонидан бирёқлама, зерикарли ёзилгани учунми, дидли уқигувчи дуч келган асарни ўқийвермайди.

Аммо узоқ йиллар "Жаслиқ" қамоқхонасида ўтириб, руҳан синмаган журналист Муҳаммад Бекжоннинг қамоқхоналарда чеккан ўз жабру жафолари ҳақида ёлғон қўшмай, самимий ёзган "Алвидо, Жаслиқ!" китоби бундан мустасно.

Мен бу асарни ўқиб чиқиб, нафақат асарнинг ўзи, балки унинг номиёқ ижодкор инсон табиатини, қалбини ва бадиий дид даражасини белгилайдиган бир сирли кўзгу эканига амин бўлдим.

Эътибор беринг.Муҳаммад Бекжон ўз асарини "Алвидо, Жаслиқ!" дея номлабдилар.

Одатда одам бирон қадрдон дўсти ёки яқинлари билан мангуга хайрлашаётибгина "алвидо!" дейди, видолашади, видо айтади.

Бу ерда китоб номи икки ҳил маънони англатади.

Бири ўзининг узоқ йиллик қадрдони - дахшатли қамоқхона билан ҳайрлашаётгани бўлса, иккинчиси қамоқхоналарда ўтган навқирон ёшлиги (қорақалпоқ тилида Жаслиғи)билан видолашиш.

Бошига мусибату азобу уқубатлар ёғдирган қамоқхона билан видолашаётган Муҳаммад Бекжон китобининг номи менга беихтиёр Бобраҳим Машраб мисраларини эслатди.


Аҳволи дилим айтғали бир маҳраме топмай,

Зулмингни қариндошу ғамингни падар эттим.


дея ёзади Шох Машраб.

Шоирнинг юқоридаги байтини ҳис қила олган одамнинг кўзларидан ёш чиқиб кетади.

Э, Худойим!Менга жамолингни кўрсатмай қилаётган зулмингни ўзимга қариндошдек яқин олдим, ҳажрингда ғамгин бўлган бўлсам, ўша ғамни ўз отамдай эъзозладим -деган маънолар бор бу байтда.

Ҳа, журналист Муҳаммад Бекжон ҳам ўзига етган қийинчиликларга тоқат билан сабр қилди, қамоқдан қутилиш учун қамоқхона мулозимларига зимдан хизмат қилмади.Амницияга тушиш илинжида қамоқхона маъмуриятига ва катталарга ёқадиган гапларни айтишдан ўзини тийди.

"Э, халойиқ, мени ўлдиришяпти йиттиришяпти, дубина билан товонларимни уриб ёриб ташладилар!" қабилида фарёд кўтармади.

Бошига тушган дахшатли кулфатларга сабр билан миқ этмай чидади.

Ундан ҳам ҳайратланарлиси, Муҳаммад Бекжон ўз акаси, шоир Муҳаммад Солих, Салай Муҳаммадаминовга:

-Ҳаммасига аслида сен айбдорсан.Сенинг касофатинга оиламиз хонавайрон бўлди.Биз қамоқларда чиридик.Сен эса, ўз жонингни эхтиётлаб, хорижда ялло қилиб юрибсан.Ҳеч йўқ укаларимни демасанг ҳам, Каримовга қарата: -қамоқларда ноҳақ азоб чекаётган махбусларни қамоқдан озод қилиб, БМТ ихтиёрига топшир, уларнинг ўрнига мен ўз ихтиёрим билан бораман дейишга ҳам ярамадинг -дея таъна -маломат қилмади.

Шу маънода Муҳаммад Бекжон метин иродали, ҳалол , жасоратли журналист ва яхши инсондир.

Илоҳим "Жаслиқ" қамоқхонаси энди фақат ва фақат инсонларнинг мудхиш қисматларидан ҳикоя қиладиган, келажакда бундай машъум воқеалар содир этилмаслигини инсониятга эслатиб турадиган тарихий музейга айлансин!

Бундан кейин озод ва обод юртимизда одамлар ҳеч қачон қонунга зид равишда қамалмасин, азобланмасин!


Кундуз соат 10 :51.

Канада, Онтерио.




Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

"Letters of Mizhappar"

(The short novel)

(In loving memory of the great humorist of Uzbekistan Hadjibay Tadjibayev)

The 7th letter of Mizhappar

-Mr. Sitmirat, now is not the time to even say Hello. There is extraordinary news. Qurumboy went into opposition. He emigrated to a small island, which is located on the river "Karadarya", where the wind in the Delta of the river and blooming water lilies.He lives alone in a foreign country, having built a hut of reeds. The night before last, someone knocked on the window of the room where I sleep. You know that in our village there is no light for several months. On moonless nights our village plunges into darkness and reigns a dead silence. Hearing a strange knock, I was afraid. Lifting the kerosene lamp, I carefully went to the window and asked:
- Who's there?!
-It is I, Mr. Mizhappar , open the window, there is a thing - someone said in a whisper. I heared a voice , - it was Qurumboy. But when I opened the window, I was even more frightened when I saw a man with a red beard and a mustache of the same color. The man in the sailor's cap with the orange eyebrows was Qurumboy ... It turns out, escaped arrest, he carefully disguised, gluing a beard, mustache and eyebrows from the skin of the same dog, which I killed.
-  Hello, Qurumboy, come on - I said to be nice and wanting to appear hospitable man.
- Thank you, Mr. Mizhappar , some other time. I'm wanted, I'm wanted everywhere. You go to an abandoned pigsty at midnight tonight. There You will meet a member of the revolutionary Committee Commissioner Yuldashvoy, and he will lead You to an underground meeting of the revolutionary Committee. This meeting will address organizational issues. Be sure to come and don't be late. The Chairman of the revolutionary Committee, Commissioner, Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy - said Qurumboy and walked away.
Within a few seconds as he disappeared from my sight, dissolving in the darkness like a Ghost, I closed the window, lowering the wick of the kerosene lamp and went to bed. But I could not sleep any more, and at midnight I put on my boots, carefully opened the window so as not to disturb my stepfather and stepmother, and leaping through the window, went towards the abandoned pigsty through the cemetery, where the eagle owl had gone. When I came to the pigsty, at the entrance, I was greeted with Yuldashvoy. It was worn a skull-cap with a red star. He came up to me, walking in a soldier's way, rustling his dermatin jacket with his collar up, and saluted me:
-   I wish you health, comrade Mizhappar . The Chairman of the revolutionary Committee comrad Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy and Commissioner of Mamadiyarenco waiting for you at the headquarters, follow me - said Yuldashvoy.
We went to the headquarters of the office through the dark corridor, in which two sides darkly glittered cages, iron bird feeders, where once lay a pig. I saw it all when the light is lighted matches which burned in the hands of the Commissioner Yuldashvoy. Although there have not kept pigs, but strong, stinking smell, everything has been preserved. When we went to the headquarters of the ceiling, where a huge blackened doorway like a dark hole of the universe, I saw Qurumboy  and Mamadiar. They sat at the table, which was missing one leg, and on which stood a lamp "Chaitanya", increasing the dark shadows of my friends on the walls of the office. On the table, like an old still life of the artist, there were empty cans, a half-drunk bottle of wine and a piece of bread with crumbs. All this was laid out on the old yellowed newspaper "the Lie of the East".
- Ahhh, come soldier Mizhappar ? Come and sit down, please, here - said Qurumboy , pointing to the inverted iron trough, from which once voracious pigs, greedily grunting and pushing each other, with a great appetite ate slops.
Thank you, Comrade comander -camindon - I said and sat down on an overturned trough. Mamadiyar wrote something on paper in the light of a kerosene lamp "Shaytan Chirac". Before starting the meeting, Qurumboy  tore off pieces of the yellowed newspaper "a Lie of the East", and stuffing them densely the tube and lit. Then, as if wishing to buy Mamadiar, handed him the phone:
- Would you like to smoke, comrade Commissar?  he asked the Mamadiar.
Well Yes, said Mamadiar and picked it up.
But he after the first puff, choking on the smoke, began to cough heavily, sticking his tongue like a sick sheep with leaky lungs. From tension his artery on neck swelled up to the maximum size, his eyes shed tears, and his face was very red. Qurumboy quickly poured in a tin of wine and handed it to the Mamadiar:
- Here, comrade, Mamadiarenco, drink healing balm - he said. Mamadiar, gave up Qurumboy, took a jar of wine and drank to the bottom. Yuldashvoy gave Mamadiar tomato for a snack, poured with fifty grams of wine for himself and drank. Qurumboy  held out me up and asked:
- You want to smoke, comrade Mizhappar ?
- No, no, thank you Comrade Camindon, Smoking is bad for my body. About it warned me in writing by the Ministry of health - I replied, cautiously looking into a Smoking pipe.
Well, as you said Qurumboy s dokurivat the remaining tobacco from a piece of yellowed newspaper "a lie of the East", which still smoldered in the tube. Then he went up to the podium, also made of wooden feeders for pigs and began his fiery speech:
- Members of our party, "valiant beggars "! Enough! The knife has reached the bones! How much can you tolerate oppression and humiliation! We must fight evil, that is, democracy and religious obscurantism, without sparing our blood, in the name of the bright future of our long-suffering people! This book will help us in this fight!.. With these words Qurumboy  showed us some book in a red cover, and I asked him:
-Sorry, Comrade commander is "Capital of the Karl Marx"?
- No, comrades! This book is called"folk tales". We must learn this book by heart! Because these tales contain unique ways of dealing with the wicked, triceps takanami dragan - "Ajhdarcho" and other abominations. For example, on these pages... Now, I read this tale somewhere here... Ah, here! In short, one poor old man had three grown sons, and they were unemployed. From morning till late at night they slept and woke up just to eat. One day, the elder built them in one line and began to read them morality:
"My sons, you have become adults and strong! Now you have to fight for your own happiness. To do this, you must unite as never before. If you walk through life together, no enemy can defeat you. Here, I'll show you a unique example... With these words, the old man gave his sons one cotton stalk and told them to break them. Sons easily broke the stems. Then the father gave everyone a sheaf of cotton stalks. The sons broke easily, and the sheaves of cotton "guzapoya". Seeing this, my father was surprised. He gave his sons one wooden pole each and told them to try to break it. Sons without any labor broke and these poles, and began to wait for the next test. Then the old man got angry and shouted to them:
- You freeloaders! Bedpans are miserable! With such strength, lie at home and live off my pension?! And the cashier does not give us our pension in time, letting it into circulation and getting a score! I can't feed you anymore! Get a job, you parasites! Go to the market and roll the cart! Come on, get out of my house, don't sit here, get out! So the old man began to expel his sons, pushing them out. But the sons clung to the door jamb and begged that the elder did not expel them from the house.
- Father, don't kick us out, please! We're afraid to go outside! It's full of police officers! They will catch us and, without noticing, put forbidden literature or leaflets in our pockets, send us to prison. From there, we are shocked into camps where innocent people die of malnutrition and tuberculosis!
- Don't be afraid, jackals cowardly! I will tell your mother, and she will sew up your pockets with a fishing line, having filled them with sand, and any cop will not be able to put to you in your pockets religious leaflets or shells - the old man told.
- Hih-hih-hih-hih! - laughed senior son, and other sons, too, began laughing at me, showing her teeth, blackened from regular Smoking shag.
-Father! Pockets-sew mom, but there on the street even more dangerous and ruthless types, your countrymen who hunt for slaves, their own kind. They can trick us into taking us to neighbouring countries and, by taking our passports away, sell us to slave traders for eternal use! Then what?! You want us to become slaves and work in the woods with shackles around our necks and legs, rattling iron chains sadly?! - asked sons at the old man.
-Nothing, you are so strong that will easily cut steel chains with shackles and escapes- the old man said...
Here is the story of Qurumboy  interrupted. The window without glass appeared clean shaved face, donkey mug Hubbigul, who worked in the part-time confidential informant, that is, a Snitch.
- Ah, gotcha, you bastards! Well, congratulations. So they created an underground party against the Constitution of our country, right?! I have everything recorded on my dictaphone, and today I will pass all the information where it should be... You now cover, hobos! - said Hubbugul, procesa his wooden leg, dressed in tights.
Qurumboy in a panic grabbed the bottle and shouted: "Comrades! The striped revolution is in danger!" Then this bottle with all the force he hit Hubbugul on the head. From a crushing blow, Hubbugul fell on the earthen floor Chancellery owned our party. Mamadiar, checking the pulse Hubbigul, made a sign that the informer dead.
- Camrade Camidon you killed the Snitch!  I was glad.
Although he was a Snitch, still a pity - said Yuldashvoy, sadly removing from the head a skull-cap made of cat skins.
-Cheer up, comrade Yuldashin! Politics is art! But art always requires sacrifices. - said Qurumboy , holding a half-broken bottle. Then he commanded:
- Pick up this bastard's body, throw him in the river! We dutifully agreed with our camindon and raised the dead body of the deceased rat. At this time in the sky over the pigsty there was a moon, which sadly floated among the curly clouds, illuminating our way.
- Comrade Camidon , shouldn't we bury him in the ground than to throw in the water. After all, this corpse will sooner or later come out like a bloated donkey corpse and get stuck somewhere, what will happen then? - Meanwhile, he begins to deteriorate and stray dogs flock there, from time to time jealously growling at the crows, - which will circle in the sky. Do you think that farmers will not notice it and will not call the district Shgabuddinov? - Mamadiyar asked.
- Before we throw a body in the river, we have to tie that plow to his leg - and it's over. The plow is heavy, and no one will guess about our heinous crime - said Qurumboy .
- Good idea - we said in unison.
Then the four of us rose and brought to the shore a heavy plow from an abandoned tractor "T - 28 - x-4" and we tied it to the feet of the Hubbigul, and threw it into the deep river "Karadarya", where the whirlpool raged.
- That, finally, we got rid of the insidious Snitch-and the revolution is saved! - said Qurumboy , sighing with relief.
And the moon was still shining over the pigsty. When we returned to the headquarters of the office, we put out a kerosene lamp and went home.
- Yes, Mr. Sitmrat, to be a revolutionary is not easy. Sitting here in his cabin, I write this letter to You, listen in silence and think about how if they came for me, the precinct of Shgabuddinov, sneaking up quietly and pointed his pistol "the Mauser".
- Okay, goodbye, Mr.Sitmirat - the carcass of a kerosene lamp.
- Fuff! Oh, man, my mustache burned again.
With respect to all, revolutionary soldier Mizhappar .

Written during the dark night, in the Collective Farm "Chapaev".





Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

"Letters of Mizhappar"

(The short novel)

(In loving memory of the great humorist of Uzbekistan Hadjibay Tadjibayev)

The 6th letter of Mizhappar

Let this letter fly, fly with the speed of an electric current, which hit my friend Qurumboy and let it reach the hero of the paper war Mr. Sitmrat!
Hi, Mr. Sitmrat! Qurumboy opened his company and, finally, provided us with work. In this company, Qurumboy - Director of the company, Yoldashvoy works as a cashier, Mamadiar - chief accountant, and I - a bodyguard. The office of our company is located in the cemetery, where old, inverted coffins and tools for digging graves are stored. We sleep there. Qurumboy, as Director of, sleeping in a coffin, wrapped in the old a shroud. And we sleep on the ground, making a pillow of raw unburned bricks. Although not political spring has come, it is still cool at night. We lie one night, floating sadly lonely moon high in the sky, twinkling stars as salt on the wound, in the distance on the horizon, somewhere behind the river tired barking dogs, croaking frogs, in a word - romance. Suddenly, in one of the coffins played a strange music, and we jumped in fright with their earthen pastels, thinking that it is evil ghosts or ghouls. It turns out, called clients in a phone. Qurumboy quickly pushed the button of his grave phone, as the button from the atomic bomb, and there was a hoarse voice of the client.
- Hello, is this the Deep grave office?! - a customer asked.
- Yes, how can we help? - Qurumboy politely asked.
- Who am I talking to? -  a customer asked.
-Is, Qurumboy Koramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy, Director of the company "Deep grave". Do you want to order anything? I mean the grave, the tombstones or the crosses and all the accessories?! - Qurumboy asked.
- The grave should be dug out three-room-the client told in a hoarse voice.
- Well, who is the grave, if not a secret? Tell me his name, I should write this down in my notebook, in order not to stray from the account!We have many customers! - Qurumboy, pulling from the inside of his pocket of his overcoat a pen and a Notepad.
Then write it down. Surname, name, patronymic of the deceased - Bairam Barabanovich! - the customer said.
-  Is the Governor of the city Bairam Barabanovic?!  - Qurumboy asked.
- Yes - the client answered.
- Oh, the poor man kicked too?! Uh, he was cursed, you say? People cursed him?! What for? Ah, bastard... He put thousands and thousands of innocent people in jail?.. Yes, that you, of course, this conversation remains between us, do not worry. No, no, what You, our phones are not being tapped by the competent authorities. No, we have a democracy in our country, here respect for human rights. So you're ordering a two-bedroom apartment, huh? What should the interior of the grave look like? So-so, should it be painted in beige... yeah, and on the living room wall, you have to paint a landscape with a tiger that's about to attack a deer that came to a watering hole, right? Oh, don't you have to draw crocodiles? Well, no problem, it will be done. On the ceiling patterns in the Gothic style? Good. Yes, dear customer, you can pay in cash. Because we hate non-cash payment, since the money must still be cashed out, sacrificing half the amount. How should we dig a two bedroom tomb?.. You know, it's not very expensive. Two bedroom tomb of our price is only $ 500  - said Qurumboy, scratching his tarpaulin boots.
-And for the materials separately?
- Of course, separately. Today I will send you a list of materials in the form of a text message on the grave phone. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Our work is harmful, that is very dangerous. For this we are allowed to drink alcohol in unlimited quantities during operation. I hope You understand me and do not forget to buy a box of vodka with a snack when you buy the necessary materials. In General, we agree?  - Qurumboy, rounding out the conversation.
- Yes - the client answered.
The next day the client brought all the necessary materials together with a box of vodka. We first drank four bottles of alcohol and started to work. Having worked well before lunch in the light of a kerosene lamp, we did almost half of the work. After drinking four more bottles of alcohol, we again took up work. Suddenly Mamadiar ran out of the grave and began to cry:
-Help me!
We thought he was being attacked by ghosts. We look, a large lizard, two meters in length runs after Mamadiar, ruffling his orange tongue, trying to bite the victim, who runs ahead. Mamadiar ran among graves and gravestones to escape from the lizard with a red mouth and disgusting color of a skin. He ran crying. We wanted to help him, but we didn't know how. Here Mamadiar suddenly fell into an open grave and the monitor lizard that was chasing him began to spin over the pit. Mamadiar yelled even harder : - Mizhappar! Qurumboy! Yoldashvoy! Help me! I'm scared! I stepped on a soft and warm corpse, wrapped in white cloth! Get me out! I fight! - he screamed in fear.
Qurumboy threw in a monitor, the shovel held in hand, and he, frightened, hid in the Bush. We raised Mamadiar from the grave and calmed him, pouring him a hundred grams of turpentine, in a hurry confusing the bottle. Mamadiar drank turpentine and calmed down. Then we continued to work again. Aside from a couple of two-meter-long black snakes, one big turtle, a bunch of toads, half a bag of Scorpions and worms, when digging the grave, there were almost no difficulties. After we finished the finishing work, Qurumboy painted an oil paint on the wall of the living room landscape, swallowing in addition to the solvent with turpentine. By the evening the customer came and saw the landscape, and said:
- The landscape you can say turned out more or less. But, excuse me, it's not a tiger, most likely a donkey pattern or a devil knows what kind of beast.
- This is not a problem - said Qurumboy and drew a bold arrow that points to the animal he drew. Then on the tip of this arrow wrote: "Citizens, be careful, it is a tiger!" Then, as in the comics, I drew a ball around the mouth of this so-called tiger, and made a circle inside this inscription. "Rrrrrrrrrr!"
When he finished drawing, Qurumboy looked back to the customer and asked:
How about now?
- Now better - said the customer.
- I used to think tigers roared."wolves: "woooooooooo!"horses." hoooooooooo!", donkeys " dooooooohh!", dogs: "doooooooooooo!"and birds "beeeeeee!" It turns out, not so, the tigers growl ", Rrrrrrrrrrrrr! - I said.
In short, we passed the "object" and began to change. When I took off his plaid jacket and wooden pagename, then stiffened, seeing his body. It was all painted. It seems that when I painted the ceiling and painted Gothic patterns under the chandelier, the paint, quietly draining from the brush, flowed through the sleeves of my shirt down. In order to clean my body from oil paint, I began to wipe with a cloth moistened with solvent. As a result, the colors of green light are even worse smeared on my stomach, like a surreal picture of Picasso. My clothes smell like acetone, man!
The weather was cool, so I had to get dressed. At this moment there arrived a carriage with a body of the deceased Governor, and we handed over the object to the customer. Circle of relatives and disciples of Bayram Baraanovich. Sobbing, lights, pillows with awards, tears and all that. While buried Bayram Baraanovich under the funeral March, we are on the sidelines drank the rest of the vodka and walked over to the customer. He gave us five hundred dollars, which we earned by honest work. Our joy knew no bounds. We collected the tools, put them in a bag and went outside.
Forever wise, and indispensable leader of our party Qurumboy Koramoygutalin Moriqultezak Tappitutuniy said: - Dear party members! We just have to go to the black market to convert our bucks earned by slave labor to the cemetery! What to do if there is free convertibility of currency in our country, where there is a dictatorial regime?Where there is no free conversion, there is a rapid decline in the exchange rate of the national currency, causing serious damage to the country's ecanomics and this is alarming foreign investors. And without foreign investors it is difficult to develop the economy.After these words of our partbase, we went to the black market, where changing the currency in sum, our poor countrymen.
We went to the market, where carefully looking around, currency traders.
One of them came up to us and asked:
- You want to change dollars?
Yes, we said in unison.
-How much? - asked speculator in foreign currency.
-500 said Qurumboy and pulled out American money from the tops of his tarpaulin boots without the soles. The speculator in foreign currency took them, and here there were strange people in civil clothes. When they began to wring his hands of Qurumboy, we fled. Yoldashvoy with Mamadiar was caught immediately, and handcuffed him. You know, I do karate, so throwing a huge bag of tools for digging graves, ran that there is urine towards the tea house, but inadvertently hit my forehead on the post and fell. The cops who were chasing me caught me and handcuffed me.
In the detention center, one of the investigators began an explanatory conversation:
- Who gave you the right to trade foreign currency. In addition, these dollars were false. Now, gentlemen, we're going to have to freeze your Bank accounts, because you've grossly violated business laws and received cash from clients. This is contrary to the Constitution of our state. Here it is clearly written that all banking operations should be carried out only by transfer. You, getting money from customers in cash, seek to deceive the state, that is, brazenly evade taxes. All, your firm will close forever!  he said, rounding off the conversation.
In order not to close our company, we had to say goodbye to five hundred dollars.
After that, our company was left open, but we began to have disagreements with clients, that is, none of the clients wanted to transfer money to our Bank accounts, fearing that they are under the hood of the tax office. As luck would have it, our competitors appeared in the labor market, who dug graves at a much lower price and did it not with their bare hands as we did, but with the help of an excavator. Swine. Now we're out of a job.

Greetings to all people of the planet,
gravedigger Mizhappar.

February 27, 2008.
City cemetery the name "Vasily Ivanovich Chapaev.



Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

"Letters of Mizhappar"

(The short novel)

(In loving memory of the great humorist of Uzbekistan Hadjibay Tadjibayev)

The 5th letter of Mizhappar

Hi, Mr.Sitmrat!

"Half my mustache and about 60 percent of my curly hair burned down yesterday. It's my own fault for that. I wanted to write you the following letter, but there was no light. In the dark is inconvenient to write. Let me think I'll light the kerosene lamp. I took a match and struck it. The kerosene lamp exploded. It turns out that my stepfather confused the fuel and mistakenly filled the lamp with gasoline. Barely put out the fire. Now, I write to you the letter and I'm afraid to look in the mirror. Because when I saw my face, my stepmother fainted. Poor.
So I had to put on a mask cut out of cardboard and go to work, or cotton plantation, where I work, rolling barrels of pesticides, with these toxic chemicals in the cotton seed processing shop. I go, damn, my saliva is flowing and flowing, can not stop. She stuck to our gate made of tin from the casks in which to store pesticides, and never ceased to flow, stretching out like a sturdy string to the field camp where I went to work without protective clothing and without a respirator. I was scared, and after work went to the folk healer Gpreddin Kokyotal. Checking my pulse, he told me:

- Do not worry, Mullah Mizhappar, the symptoms of Your illness, I have determined what the disease is. It turns out, we with you relatives - he said.
-Yes You that, Mr.Gpreddin Kokyotal crazy, or what? What kind of relative am I? Look, we're not like each other at all. Your nose is like this one, eggplant, and your ears are too small, like a Jerboa. My head is spherical, and You face won some, asacia! -  I said.

- We are relatives through illness, Mullah Mizhappar said the folk healer Gpreddin Kokyotal, choking cough.

- A-and-and, so would and said. And then I got scared - I said. The folk healer Gpreddin Kokyotal: -Our common disease of which we are proud, originates from daily malnutrition. Alas, our food in the cauldron is cooked on the water, that is, we do not eat hot food for months. Just tea and bread. Thanks for that - said the peoples healer Gpreddin Kokyotal, constantly coughing. He had a long and terrible cough, was completely blue from lack of oxygen. I'm choking red, too. Because, I, too, tried not to breathe, not to get national powwow of Gpreddin Kokyotal. It turns out that people without air, like a fish out of water. Like a scuba diver with an empty oxygen tank at the bottom of the Pacific ocean. I left the house national powwow of Gpreddin Kokyotal and went out in the yard, eagerly began to swallow portions of oxygen, filling the air with my empty lungs.
I went outside, and there met Yuldashvoy with Mamadiar. From them I heard the latest news, which I want to share with you. Recently, well, just last week, beloved wife of Qurumboy sick. She complained of abdominal pain. Qurumboy ran to the village Council where a phone with a broken tube, one in the whole village, and they called in the ambulance. But the ambulance did not come because of the lack of gasoline. Then Qurumboy, he'd put his wife Qoryaxan on the bike and went to the hospital. While he was driving, he was sweating like a horse after the race. The thing is, there was an eight in the back wheel of the bike.
The wife of Qurumboy doctors have long turns were examined behind a screen, then put it to the chamber office therapy. Looking from the window, Qurumboy told his wife that he would bring her a kettle, a bowl, and a bowl with a wooden spoon. After that Qurumboy went back home and brought to his beloved wife the necessary things that he promised. Tying chain his bike to a post, Qurumboy approached the window and asked the nurse on duty that she called Qoryaxan. The nurse said that Qoryaxan, that is the wife of Qurumboy, was transferred to the hospital... Qurumboy, of course, was surprised, and asked supposedly for what? Maybe the doctors mistook his wife for some other pregnant woman.
"No," said the nurse on duty.

- Our doctors are the best in the world. They are never wrong - she said proudly.
Qurumboy immediately went to the side of the hospital, rattling things that were in the bag. As soon as he appeared near the window of the maternity Department, and immediately began to congratulate the nurse midwives:

-Are you, Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezal Tappitutuniy ?! We thought so! What a happy man you are! Congratulations from the heart, you have become a father! Your wife gave birth to twins! They're both girls! Can you, give us gifts, happy father! Now! Where are the flowers and the champagne and the chocolate?! - fun shouted they.
Hearing this, Qurumboy almost went crazy.
- What are you talking about?! What twins?! I recently married, how can give birth to my wife in such a short period of time? She's not! What a joke! Is it funny?! - Qurumboy got angry.
- We're not kidding, we're telling the real truth! If you don't believe me, we can call her to the window, and you'll see for yourself. Go over there, there's a microphone, and you can talk to your wife, " said one of the nurses.
- Call-said Qurumboy and reluctantly approached the microphone.
Ten minutes at the window appeared the wife of Qurumboy Qoryahan with a pale smile on his lips. Then through a megaphone began to speak:
- Hello, my lovely huzband Qurumboy!..
- Honey, is it true you gave birth?! - Qurumboy asked.
- Yes, honey, it's true. Now we have two children! Twins! What happiness, my God!  she smiled.
- What kind of mess is that?! What are you saying ?! How dare you... After all, we got married recently. How could we have made it, anyway?! - Qurumboy.

How do I know?! Maybe it's an abnormal phenomenon. Maybe it's a girl's miracle. We must not reject God's gift, Qurumboy? -said Qoryahan.
- What?! God's gift? You leave the rest to God! That's impossible! I do not recognize these children, that is, they are not from me! What an abomination! Oh, what a shame! I trusted you! I loved you! What a fraud!.. I'd cut You with a gardening knife or a sickle, but I don't want to get my authority dirty! You don't deserve to be stabbed! From now on you are nothing to me! I will announce to you now "three talaq" according to Sharia law! Goodbye, Qoryagar... Forget about me forever, good bye... - said Qurumboy.
- Qoryahan began to dance moving her huge her ass, singing a song :

My husband told me to leave!
I'll tell him:
There will be a court, decision!
You will be awarded child support!"

Looking at Qoryahan, Qurumboys smiled angrily, then he spit through his teeth, walked away. But, Qoryah-han's mom, which is engaged in supplying a live product, that is, the girls in a far country, sued Qurumboy a lawsuit. She gave bribes to lawyers and doctors and got the conclusion it is judicial-medical examination which States that Qurumboy Qoramoygutalin Moriqultezal Tappitutuniy is the father of two girls, which Qoryahan gave birth to. The court rendered a verdict of double, leaving Qurumboy chance of selection. He had to choose whether to pay child support or serve time in prison with a lousy rape article. Qurumboy chose the first punishment, agreeing to pay child support.
These extra costs have worsened the already meager family budget of Qurumboy. For this reason, he was simply forced to engage in the shadow business.

One early morning when I was doing Kung Fu on the flat roof of our closet, he came and said:

- Mizhappar, I decided to go into business. The pension my mother receives is not even enough to pay child support . So yesterday I signed a large, contractual agreement on the stand of high-quality aluminum to my business partners - he said, lighting his pipe clogged with sawdust.

- Wow,where do you get high-quality aluminum? - I was surprised.

- I'll go climb the iron poles that stand in the fields like the Eiffel tower on the banks of the Seine in Paris, and cut the wires with these gardening scissors. There's no electric current in those wires anyway. If someone asks, I will tell that a pier, update a line of electric wires, and I work in power networks.
- And if they require an electrician's certificate?  - I asked.

- Then, I will show the certificate with a red cover which was given to me in crazy hospital when I was treated - Qurumboy told.

- Oh, then you can. Just be careful not to climb too high. You might fall down... I don't want your little children to be orphans - I warned my friend.

- Thanks, Mizhhappar - said Qurumboy and went in side field. Having had a hearty Breakfast with bread, I put on a padded jacket and went to work. On the way I saw my friends Mamadiar with Yuldashvoy. They painted, doing whitewashing the walls of the building of the collective farm with lime using brushes with long wooden cuttings. Both wore caps made of newspaper "Pravda Vostoka".

- God help, guys! Well, well, congratulations. Finally, found a prestigious job - I said, greeting them.
- Yeah, it's not a regular job. The party Committee promised half a liter of vodka. They say that Mr. President himself comes to our collective farm. Look, out, the teachers and the students are cleaning the ditches and cleaning up the trash.

I see, really, the little guys are cleaning up the trash and raking the grass along the road with the help of big hoes. Near the building of the village Council, journalists are interviewed by farmers. I even heard one farmer was interviewed. The journalist asked him a question:

-Dear worker now in Your farm arrives, our esteemed President. Your feelings about this, please... don't grab on to the microphone... yeah, talk here.

The farmer began to speak:

- Thanks to our wise President and our state, the sky over our heads is becoming cleaner and cleaner every year... And most importantly - bread on the shelves there... We get paid prematurely, that is, in advance... Recently, our dear manager gave us pasta two pounds for every trooper cotton plantations. Gas in our village burns under such pressure that sometimes even we are afraid to include a gas stove. Electricity is also buzzing in the wires so that the transformers can not stand the ultra-high, terrible voltage, sometimes explode. Taking this opportunity, on behalf of the workers of our collective farm, who, responding to the calls of our government with their military work, work day and night, from early spring to severe winter, despite any vagaries of nature, I want to Express my gratitude to our wise President and ask that our guide will guide us until the end of his life!
Another request to give him Chernobil nuclear station worker the award he said, adjusting his bald cap with earflaps, which moth ate. At this point, Durmail Evogar, master of anonymous letters and gravedigger the Tulane Gorkov dressed in heavy coats, canvas boots, ran home.

- Why are you running, master of anonymous letters Mr.Durmail Evogar?! What happened?! - I asked the master of anonymity.
- In honor of the arrival of the President in our collective farm, we decided to give light today! Gas already in! Now at least one day we will live like modern people! Fifteen minutes will give electricity, Ur-rra-a! - crucial master of anonymous letters Durmayl Evogar and ran as a proud member of the Komsomol in the battle with the white guards and Basmachi gangs, sometimes on holidays was on TV when he was giving light only for a few hours.

Hearing this made my heart skip a beat.

It is necessary to immediately alert Qurumboy, I thought, and ran towards the field where my friend and kinsman Qurumboy  from the village "Lattakishlak" cut aluminum wire. I ran, stomping on my boots. The run that is urine, not to be late and shout:
- Qurumboy-ooooy! Come down quickly from the post-ahhh! Hear-s-IISI, Qurumbo -o -o -o -o! Current into the wires!..

Qurumboy - zero work on the pole like a monkey, which is sitting on the top of the tree, gorging on succulent leaves in the rainforest. Not hear me. When I reached the abandoned pigsty, from afar I heard a friendly cry of the villagers. They shouted hooray. This meant that the light was given, that is, I did not have time to warn my friend about the danger. Just at this point in the post where Qurumboys cut a line of electric wire using gardening scissors, flashed a big flash, like ball lightning, and Qurumboy flew down. When I ran to the scene, Qurumboy was lying like a clown, holding scissors. From his overcoat and hat of red army soldiers was smoking. He lay on the field of the collective farm "Chapaev", looking at the boundless sky with the blackened face like the devil. I sat on my knees beside him, closed his eyes and cried loudly.

- Oh, my friend, forgive me, for God's sake! I couldn't warn you in time, you know, I couldn't! Did not have time! Poor! Then I did wrong to you when you were arrested the precinct of Shegabubutdinov. If I hadn't fought you back then, you wouldn't have suffered in prisons and camps! Qoryahan  also lied to you. She's the reason you took that risky step and died. You're a victim of injustice! If I, without knowing, accidentally offended you - sorry, mate. I know that it is even very difficult to exist in our country. Now who's going to pay child support to your daughters?! Who will educate them?! Here in our country, the leaders are given the title of hero! It's not fair! Because they live in luxury, eating black and red caviar every day for Breakfast, and ordinary people like you, in search of a piece of bread risk their lives! The title of the hero should not be assigned to the leaders, but to ordinary people, who continue to exist and feed their children even when they do not have a penny in their pockets! You died with honor, and we must bury you as a national hero! May you rest in peace, Qurumboy! I'm going to go to the village and show you to the President! Let him look at you and imagine what is happening in the country and what is happening to ordinary citizens of the country from total unemployment!  I cried.
Then, having carried a body of the native friend on a shoulder, went towards the village. I walked like a warrior who carries his dead brother. The body of Qurumboy was heavy. Therefore, before reaching the village, I was tired and decided to rest a little. I gently lowered the body of Qurumboy down and sitting on the ground, wiped the sweat off my face with a hat, which he made from the skin of a mad dog, the one that we ate. Poor Qurumboy was lying on the wet ground, still holding the scissors. I looked at him and cried. After resting a bit, I again raised Qurumboy shoulder and froze in surprise - Qurumboy hoarsely groaned and opened his eyes. I quickly lowered him to the ground and checked her pulse. Qurumboy was alive!
- Qurum! Qurumboy, you alive?! Oh, thank God Almighty! You returned my friend! Oh, good thing we didn't bury him alive! Qurumboy, can you hear me?! Say something! - I shouted. Then picked him up again and walked quickly towards the village. In the center of the village villagers surrounded me.
- Where is the President?! I want to show him my poor friend, who was a victim of universal poverty! Let Mr. President look at him! - I shouted.
The President didn't show! He drove past our village! As soon as he passed, so immediately turned off the light, turned off the gas, bastards! - said Durmail Evogar.
There it is, Mr.Sitmrat. Please forgive me for such a short letter.

Sincerely, the farmerMizhappar.

February 21, 2008.
The Collective Farm "Chapaev".



Холдор Вулқон

Ўзбекистон Ёзувчилари уюшмасининг аъзоси

Қадрдон кўча.Шу қурама ариғда чўмилиб катта бўлганмиз.Укам Иномиддин кўча тамондаги менинг дарсхонамни ва бошқа эски уйларни бузиб тейлаб, қурилиш, реконструкция ишларини бошлаб юборган.

Уйимиздан чиқиб келаётган синглим Дилором.(Х.В.)

Холдор Вулқон туғилган уй.

"Олисларда ёнган чироқлар" номли повестдан янги боб

2000 йиллари Холмирза тоғамларникига бордим.Тоғам билан кўришиб, иккаламиз ховлидаги сўрида чой ичиб, узоқ суҳбатлашиб ўтирдик.Энамни, бобомни эсладик.Мен ховлига хавас билан кўз югиртириб: -Тоға, қандай бойиб кетдингиз? Бойиш йўлларини менга ҳам ўргатинг -десам, тоғам: -Э, сен ҳам ҳали ўзингнинг қандай бойиб қолганингни сезмай қоласан - дедилар.Кейин уйдаги енгил машиналарга ишора қилиб: -Анави янги қора "Нексия"ни Баҳром ўғлим олиб берди.Наряғда "Дамас". Айтгандай, сен Бахромнинг ҳашаматли участкасини кўрдингми? -дедилар. -Йўқ -дедим мен.Бир кўргин -дедилар тоғам, бизнесмен ўғли билан фахрланиб.

Тоғам билан суҳбатлашиб ўтирган пайтимиз Тўхтахон келин аям кўчадан бир говмиш сигирни хайдаб кириб келдилар.Салом аликдан сўнг келин аям ажойиб палов тайёрлаб, ўзбекона меҳмондўстликни ўрнига қўйдилар.Бу муваққат дунёда йиллар ўтган сайин сен учун муқаддас бўлган ховли жойлар, болалигингда ўйнаб ўсган кўчалар, далаю дашт, қишлоғу шаҳарлар ҳам таниб бўлмас даражада ўз қиёфасини ўзгартириб, азиз инсонлар бирин кетин охират сафарига равона бўлаверар эканлар.Улардан фақат мунис ҳотираларгина сақланиб қолар экан.

Йиллар ўтиб, Тўхтахон келин аямнинг ҳам умр қуёши сўнаркан, вафотларидан авал Холмирза тоғамга: -дадаси, мен ўтиб кетгач, биронта яхши аёлга уйланинг.Мендан сўнг ёлғиз қолиб, қийналишингизни сираям истамайман -дебдилар.

-Э, нималар деяпсан, онаси, унақа гапларни гапирма.Васият қилишинга ҳали эрта.Бахтимизга тезроқ соғайгин, сафар навбати меники, сен ортимда қолгин -дебдилар тоғам, йиғлаб.

Тўхтахон келин аям сўзларида туриб олибдилар.Мен оламдан ўтгач, биронта инсоф диёнатли аёлга уйланаман дея вада беринг -дебдилар.

-Э, онаси, эсинг жойидами?Мен қандай қилиб бошқа аёлга уйланаман?Сендай аёл бу дунёда борми? -дебдилар тоғам, жигархун бўлиб йиғлаб.

Қаранг, кўплаб аёллар эрини ҳар қадамда тергаб, дуч келган симёғочга рашк қилиб, ортидан одам қўйиб, кечасию кундузи пойлаб, кетар чоғи :- мендан кейин биронта аёлга уйлансангиз икки қўлим ёқангизда кетади.Рашк ўти жисму жасадимни қамраб, мозорим то қиёмат гувиллаб ёниб туради! -дейдиган замонларда Тўхтахон келин аям охират дорвозаси олдида ўз умр йўлдоши, Холмирза тоғамнинг ёлғиз қолишларини ўйлаб, ташвишланибдилар, унга ачинибдилар.Мана ҳақиқий ўзбекона муҳаббат!Бу ҳазрати Алишер Навоийнинг достонларида, ёки Абдулла Қодирийнинг романларида эмас, бизнинг замонда, ҳаётда юз берган ҳақиқий воқеа!

Шундан кейин Тўхтахон келин аям оламдан кўз юмиб, Холмирза тоғам ёлғиз қолдилар ва ўзлари айтгандай, қайта уйланмадилар.Оғир жудоликка чидолмаган тоғам ҳам узоққа бормай, оламдан ўтдилар.



Суратда Дадам Усмонжон Абдусаломов ва онам Эзозхон Кенжаева.(Х.В.)


Менинг иккинчи онам

Чақалоқлигимда мени тарбия қилаётган Патила аммам Исмон ака деган хоммомчига турмушга чиқиб кетгач, мени иккинчи онам Эзозхон Кенжаева ўз қарамоғига олганлар.

Аям мени худди ўз туққан боласидай ювиб, тараб, кечалари бешигим устида алла айтиб, онамнинг йўқлигини билинтирмай, парвариш қила бошлаганлар.Секин - секин эсимни таний бошладим.Дадам ёғочдан мусиқа яратадиган даржада қўли гул дурадгор уста бўлсаларда, улфатлар билан отамлашишни, гап гаштакни, шовқинли давраларни севар, улфатлари уйимизга келса, аям, акам ва мен нимқоронғи дахлиздаги ўчоқ ёнида биқиниб, қимтиниб ўтирардик.

Уйимизда ёғоч қутига ўхшаган "Беларус" номли приемник магнитоламиз бўлар, дадамнинг улфатлари ўша магнитоладан таралаётган Комилжон Отаниёзов, Мамуржон Узоқов, Таваккал Қодировларнинг қўшиқларига ҳамоҳанг жўр бўлиб қарсак чалишар, чарчаб ҳолдан тойгунларича оммавий рақсга тушишар, баъзилари мастликдан кўзларининг жилити чиқиб, алжираб, меҳмонлар тонга яқин тарқалишарди.

У пайтлар газ электр қаёқда дейсиз.Уйлар лампашиша - жинчироқ ёрдамида ёритилар, чой ўчоқда қайнатилар, овқат ҳам шу йўсинда тайёрланарди.Аям бечора дахлиздаги ўчоқ бошида ўтин - чўп ёқиб, олов пуфлаб, меҳмонларга тинимсиз егулик тайёрлар, қумғонда қайнаган чойни чойнакларга дамлаб, дадамга узатар, дадам қаттиқ қуруқ гапирса, мени бағирларига босиб, овозсиз йиғлардилар.

Бир куни колхозимиз клубига концерт келишини эшитиб, ҳовлиқиб, югирганимча колхоз клуби тамон бордим.Қарасам, дадам ўша жойда бошқа дурадгорлар билан тахтадан сахна қураётган эканлар.Эх, тезроқ оқшом тушиб, концерт бошлана қолсайди дея ўйлайман.Ниҳоят қуёш Тянь -шан тоғ тизмаларининг қорли чўққилари ортига беркиниб, қишлоғимизга осуда ёз оқшоми чўкди.Дарё тамонда бақалар ҳасратли қуриллаб, чигирткалар бир моромда чириллай бошлади.Дурадгорлар бригадаси движок ёрдамида ёқилган чироқлар ёруғида ишлар, қулоқ супраларига қистирилган қаламни олиб, тахталарга чизиб, уларни ўлчаб, арралаб, тешалар билан тўқиллатиб мих қоқиб, куймаланиб юришарди.

Бир маҳал дадам ишлагани ҳалал бераётган бир ўрам симни олиб, четга қўймоқчи бўлдилару бирдан юқори кучланишли ток уриб, гурс этиб қуладилар.Қий - чув, бақир-чақир, тўс -тўпалон бошланиб, одамлар ининининг қопқоғини шамол ағдарган асаларилар галасидай тўзғиб кетди.-Э, сувга тооорт, сувгаааа! -дея бақирарди кимдир.Одамлар дадамни кўтариб, қишлоғимиздан оқиб ўтгувчи Қурама ариқнинг намчил қумига кўмдилар. Анчадан кейин кимдир, ҳайрият, тирик, тирик! -дея ҳайқирди.Бўйлари пастаккина Фотима энам вой боламлаб ариқ қирғоғида йиғлаб уёқдан буёққа чопиб, изиллаб юрар, бобом, амакиларим ҳам ўша жойда, мислсиз қайғуга ботиб туришарди.Ўша куни дадамни капали машина кузовига чиқариб, Андижон шаҳридаги Облбольница деган клиникага олиб кетишди.

Бу воқеадан аям бечора адойи тамом бўлдилар.Қачон қарасам, кўзларида ёш, овозсиз, эзилиб йиғлаб юрган бўлардилар.Бир куни почтачи мактуб олиб келди.Хат дадамдан келибди.Конвертни очсак, дадамнинг бошқа беморлар билан тушган сурати чиқди.Суратдаги йўл -йўл пижама кийган дадам ниҳоятда озиб кетибдилар.Бечора худди фашистлар ўлим лагеридаги махбусга ўхшаб қолибди. Қўшнимиз Улфатхон ая, Ҳекматхон аялар билан суратни тамоша қилаётган аям шундай йиғладиларки, кўз ёшлари дувиллаб суратга тўкилди.

Ҳеч эсимдан чиқмайди, кўчада болалар билан ўйнаб юрсам, хиром этик кийган дадам солдатларга ўхшаб катта катта қадам ташлаб келяптилар.Соғиниб кетган эканман, югириб бориб, хиром этик кийган оёқларини махкам қучоқлаб олдим.Дадам худди иккинчи жахон урушидан қайтган ногирон жангчидай мени даст кўтариб бағрига босдилар.Биз уйга кирганимизда хурсандчиликдан аямнинг кўзлари жиққа ёшга тўлди.Хувиллаган уйимиз яна тўлиб, ҳаётимиз байрамга айланди.Лекин энди дадам аввалгидай ўз хунари билан шуғилланолмас, меҳнат ногиронига айланиб қолган эдилар.Оиламиз дадамнинг нафақа пулига қараб қолди.Энди аввалгидай еб -ичиш йўқ эди.Аччиқ қора бўрка нонни шакарга текизиб ердик.Қозонимиз сувда қолди.Бизга раҳмлари келиб, Матлуба аммам ярим қоп ун ташлаб кетдилар.

У маҳаллар дадам бош оғриғидан қаттиқ азоб чекар, у янада инжиқроқ бўлиб қолган эди.Бунинг устига носвой чекардилар.Энг ажабланарлиси, дадамнинг жонажон улфатларидан биронтаси ҳолинг не деб йўқлаб келмади.Шундан кейин дадам ароқ тугаши биланоқ дўстлиги ҳам тугайдиган ундай улфатлардан қўлларини ювиб, қўлтиқларига урдилар.Ичкиликни ташлаб, номоз қиладиган бўлди.Бобом отбақар бўлсаларда Қуръони Каримни ёд олган муфассир олим киши эдилар.Дадам энди бобомдан оз -оз илм ўрганишга киришдилар.Менинг зехним жуда ўткир бўгани учун дадам номозларида овоз чиқариб ўқийдиган сураларни ёдлаб олардим.

Бир куни фотиха сурасини ёддан айтиб берганим учун дадам менга бир рубль пул берганлар.Худди кузги япроқ каби сап -сариқ пул.Мен ўшандай сариқ рубль сабаб бир гал дадамни қийин аҳволга қўйганимдан ҳали ҳануз азоб чекаман.Воқеа бундай бўлган эди.Кўчада болалар билан ўйнаб юрувдик, дўстларим кўчада гаплашиб турган дадаларидан пул олдилар.Қарасам, ўша одамлар орасида менинг дадам ҳам турибдилар.

Боламанда, югириб бориб, дада пул беринг дебман.Дадам чўнтагини ковлаб, менга бир сўм бердилар.Табиийки, биз болалар дадаларимиздан олган пулларга дўкондан ул -бул харид қилиб, пулларни тугатдик.Уйга келсам, дадам носқовоғини чўп билан ковлаб, сўнги носвой кукунларини кафтига тўплаб, каппа отдилар.Мен дарров тушундим.

Менга берилган пул дадамнинг носвой сотиб олиш учун асраб қўйган пуллари экан.Дадамга раҳмим келди.Ҳомушланиб, бошимни қуйи солдим.

Йиллар ўтаверди.Дадам электр токи тасиридан ҳамон азоб чекар, тобора серзарда, асабий бўлиб қолган эдилар.У умрининг охиригача ўша дарддан азоб чекди.Бизларни минг меҳнат - машаққат билан ўстириб, вояга етказган дадамдан мингдан минг розиман.Бечора умрининг охирларида телефон орқали суҳбатлашар эканмиз, мендан йиғлаб кечирим сўрадилар.

-Ўйласам, сенга раҳмим келаверади.Сенга ёрдам беролмаганимдан хижолатдаман..Мана энди ёлғиз ўзинг тиришиб тирмашиб қурган уйингни ҳам ташлаб, Канадага кетиб қолдинг.Ўз ватанинга сиғмадинг.Яқинда болалар сен эккан оқ ўрик меваларидан олиб келишди.Йиғлаб едим.Илоҳо, менинг беролмаганларимни ҳам сенга Оллонинг ўзи берсин деди.Узоқ дуо қилиб, охири йиғлаб, гапиролмай қолдилар.Жойлари Жаннатдан бўлсин.

Яна ўтмишга қайтамиз.Биз, мен акам ва аям уччаламиз рўзғорга ёрдам бўлсин, дадамнинг пенциясига қараб ўтиравермайлик деб далада астойдил ишлардик.Аям раҳматли мени доим ўзлари билан етаклаб юрар, тез тез Чувамадаги ота уйига, тоғаларимникига олиб борардилар.Аямнинг оналари энам, оппоқ юзли, қизиқ қизиқ гапларни топиб, гапириб, ҳаммани кулдириб қотирадиган қувноқ кампир эди.Энамнинг кенжа ўғиллари Адхамжон тоғам ҳам ҳазил мутоибани яхши кўрадиган бола бўлиб, худди такаббур раҳбар ролини ўйнаётган актёрдай қўлларини орқага қилиб, гердайганича энамга: -Ҳа, кампиршо! -деб қўяр, унинг бу гапларидан ҳаммамиз кулар эдик.Кенжавой бобом соқол мўйлови ўзига ярашган, подшолардай баланд бўйли, камтарин, меҳрибон инсон эдилар.Болалар хурсанд бўлсин деб бобом бизга пул берар, биз болалар чуввос солиб, Мохидил опам бошчилигида кўчага, дўконга қараб югирар эдик.

У маҳаллар олий маълумотли Ҳурмуҳаммад тоғам мактабда, Холмирза тоғам чорвачилик фермасида, Бекмирза тоғам электромонтер бўлиб ишлар эдилар.Катта холамнинг ўғиллари Миролим, Миркомил, Ҳурмуҳаммад тоғамнинг ўғиллари Азамжон, Акрамжон ва бошқа болалар ҳаммамиз эртадан кечгача ховлида у ёқдан бу ёққа югириб ўйнардик.Қирғоқларидан тошиб оқадиган, ховлини кесиб ўтган ариқ сувида кўкариб, жағларимиз такиллаб қолгунча қий чув қилиб чўмилар эдик.Остида қумлари, тошлари қўриниб турадиган дарё сувлари, қамишли соҳиллар, шамолларда шаршарадай шовуллагувчи толзорлар, узоқ узоқларда сайраётган каккуларнинг ҳасратли оҳи, дарё ортидан охиста кўтарилаётган ой, осуда жимликни бузиб қуриллаётган бақалар, Чуваманинг сокин ва осойишта қуриллоқ кечалари ҳамон ёдимда.

Совет зомонлари Адҳамжон тоғам ўзимизнинг Бухорои шарифда харбий хизматни ўтагани ажойиб бўлган ҳаммадан ҳам.У Қоровулбозор қамоқхонасида аристон қўриқлар, бизга мактублар ёзиб турарди.Харбий хизматни тугатгач, бир куни у бизникига келди.У ўз одатича виқор билан ховлимизда уёқдан буёққа юрар, ўз қиёфаси билан менга худди "Сангам" фильмидаги Сундрни эслатарди.Тоғам ўша пайтларда шунақа келишган йигит эдилар.У менга чумолига қарагандай қараб, худди сехрли чироқдан чиққан девдай; - Холдормирза, қалайсан? -дедилар.- Яхшиман, тоға -дедим мен юқорига қараб.

-Манабу сурат сенга -дедилар тоғам, менга ўзининг оқ -қора тасвирдаги суратини бериб.Ўша пайтлари мен далада ғўзаларнинг дўл урган олаларига чигит экувчи қизларга дориланган чигитларни етказиб турардим.Бўйига етган қизлар мени тушунмайди деб сирли гапларини ўзаро ўртоқлашишар, мен эса ҳамма нарсани тушунардим.Бир куни уларга тоғамнинг суратини кўрсатдим.Тоғамнинг суратини кўриб, қизларнинг униси уёққа, буниси буёққа йиқилиб, хушларидан кетди.

Йўқ, тоғамнинг суратини кўриб, қўрқиб кетмадилар, аксинча, дарёдан тутиб олинган сандиқни очгач, Тохирни кўрган паризодлар каби эс - хушларидан айрилган эдилар.

Улар энди рашк ўтида тоғамни талашиб, бир -бирларини теша билан чопиб, ўлдириб қўймсалар эди дея анчагача ҳавотирланиб юрдим.Суратни маҳалламиздаги бошқа қизлар ҳам кўришди.Шундан кейин жуда кўп қизлар тоғамнинг ишқида оҳ чекиб, тунлари ҳижрон тўшагида тўлғониб, қанчаси бўйнига тош боғлаб, кимдир Хонариққа, яна бировлари Қорадарёга ўзини отиб, сувга ғарқ бўлди, яна баъзилари ўзларини тарктор тагига ташлаб ўлди.Ҳазил ҳазилу, лекин ростдан ҳам бир опамиз тоғамнинг суратини кўриб, қаттиқ севиб қолганлар.У: -Холдорбек, тоғанг қачон келади? - дея ҳадеб сўрайверганидан кейин мен шундай хулосага келганман.

Бекмирза тоғам, катта холам, холамнинг фарзандлари, дадамнинг божалари поччамиз, дўстим Миролим билан Пахтаободнинг Қўқонқишлоғида, оқшом тушган ховли узра сакраб, қуриллаб юрган бақаларни қувлаб юрган дамларимиз ҳақида ёзсам, воқеалар бу бобга сиғмаслиги мумкин.Шу сабаб кўпроқ мен мулоқотда бўлган Холмирза тоғам ҳақида тўхталаман.

2000 йиллари Холмирза тоғамларникига бордим.Тоғам билан кўришиб, иккаламиз ховлидаги сўрида чой ичиб, узоқ суҳбатлашиб ўтирдик.Энамни, бобомни эсладик.Мен ховлига хавас билан кўз югиртириб: -Тоға, қандай бойиб кетдингиз? Бойиш йўлларини менга ҳам ўргатинг -десам, тоғам: -Э, сен ҳам ҳали ўзингнинг қандай бойиб қолганингни сезмай қоласан - дедилар.Кейин уйдаги енгил машиналарга ишора қилиб: -Анави янги қора "Нексия"ни Баҳром ўғлим олиб берди.Наряғда "Дамас". Айтгандай, сен Бахромнинг ҳашаматли участкасини кўрдингми? -дедилар. -Йўқ -дедим мен.Бир кўргин -дедилар тоғам, бизнесмен ўғли билан фахрланиб.

Тоғам билан суҳбатлашиб ўтирган пайтимиз Тўхтахон келин аям кўчадан бир говмиш сигирни хайдаб кириб келдилар.Салом аликдан сўнг келин аям ажойиб палов тайёрлаб, ўзбекона меҳмондўстликни ўрнига қўйдилар.Бу муваққат дунёда йиллар ўтган сайин сен учун муқаддас бўлган ховли жойлар, болалигингда ўйнаб ўсган кўчалар, далаю дашт, қишлоғу шаҳарлар ҳам таниб бўлмас даражада ўз қиёфасини ўзгартириб, азиз инсонлар бирин кетин охират сафарига равона бўлаверар эканлар.Улардан фақат мунис ҳотираларгина сақланиб қолар экан.

Йиллар ўтиб, Тўхтахон келин аямнинг ҳам умр қуёши сўнаркан, вафотларидан авал Холмирза тоғамга: -дадаси, мен ўтиб кетгач, биронта яхши аёлга уйланинг.Мендан сўнг ёлғиз қолиб, қийналишингизни сираям истамайман -дебдилар.

-Э, нималар деяпсан, онаси, унақа гапларни гапирма.Васият қилишинга ҳали эрта.Бахтимизга тезроқ соғайгин, сафар навбати меники, сен ортимда қолгин -дебдилар тоғам, йиғлаб.

Тўхтахон келин аям сўзларида туриб олибдилар.Мен оламдан ўтгач, биронта инсоф диёнатли аёлга уйланаман дея вада беринг -дебдилар.

-Э, онаси, эсинг жойидами?Мен қандай қилиб бошқа аёлга уйланаман?Сендай аёл бу дунёда борми? -дебдилар тоғам, жигархун бўлиб йиғлаб.

Қаранг, кўплаб аёллар эрини ҳар қадамда тергаб, дуч келган симёғочга рашк қилиб, ортидан одам қўйиб, кечасию кундузи пойлаб, кетар чоғи :- мендан кейин биронта аёлга уйлансангиз икки қўлим ёқангизда кетади.Рашк ўти жисму жасадимни қамраб, мозорим то қиёмат гувиллаб ёниб туради! -дейдиган замонларда Тўхтахон келин аям охират дорвозаси олдида ўз умр йўлдоши, Холмирза тоғамнинг ёлғиз қолишларини ўйлаб, ташвишланибдилар, унга ачинибдилар.Мана ҳақиқий ўзбекона муҳаббат!Бу ҳазрати Алишер Навоийнинг достонларида, ёки Абдулла Қодирийнинг романларида эмас, бизнинг замонда, ҳаётда юз берган ҳақиқий воқеа!

Шундан кейин Тўхтахон келин аям оламдан кўз юмиб, Холмирза тоғам ёлғиз қолдилар ва ўзлари айтгандай, қайта уйланмадилар.Оғир жудоликка чидолмаган тоғам ҳам узоққа бормай, оламдан ўтдилар.

Вафотларидан аввал Холмирза тоғамга синглим Дилором менинг "Тунги лайлакқор" китобимни олиб бориб берган экан, тоғам қувониб, кўзларида ёш билан: -Дилором, сен Холдорнинг китобини келтириб, миллион доллар пул бергандай мени хурсанд қилдинг -дебдилар.(Гап шундаки 2004 йили Тошкентдаги "Янги аср авлоди" нашриётида чоп этилган китобимга Холмирза тоғам учун дастхат ёзиб қўйгандиму лекин топширишга улгирмаган эдим )

Энди яна ўтмишга қайтамиз.

Менда ўша болалик пайтларимдаёқ романтик туйғулар шаклланган бўлиб, декабрнинг шамол гувиллаётган совуқ кечаларида соатлаб осмонга тикилиб, қоронғу осмондан қор учқунларининг тушишини кутиб турардим.Қор ёғаётган кеча менинг руҳимда ботиний, илоҳий байрам бошланар, дераза ортидаги чироқ шуъласида оппоқ чивинлар галаси каби тўзғиб, чарх уриб, чирпираётган оппоқ қор учқунларидан шуурим зулматлари ойдиндаги қудуқдай туб - тубигача ёришиб кетар эди гўё.

Тунлари осуда жимлик, қорли сукунат, зулмат қаърида сассиз садосиз беғамгина ёғаётган қор учқунларини кузатиб ўтириш менинг энг севимли машғулотим эди.Бир тонг уйғониб, кирза этикларимни кийиб, ташқарига чиқсам, қор қоплаган дарахтлардан ховлимиз қалин қорли ўрмонга ўхшаб қолибди.Вооо! -дея ҳайратланиб, қорларни ғарт -ғурт босиб, гох уёққа юраман, воооҳ! -деб буёққа.Шу асно чопиб кўчага чиқибману шайтон васваса қилиб, қор емоқчи бўлибман, қаранг.Қорни шундоқ тилим билан илиб оламан дебманми, кутилмаганда тилим чип этиб кўпригимизнинг темир тўсқичига ёпишиб қолса бўладими.Тилимни тортсам худди магнитга ёпишгандай сира чиқмасди.Тилингиз ёпишиб қолса фақат унли товушларнигина талаффуз қилиб, бировни ёрдамга ҳам чақиролмас экансиз.-А -а-а-а-а! -дейман ҳалос.Қўрқиб кетдим.Яхшиям аям ховлида қор кураётган эканлар, товушимни эшитиб, югириб чиқдилар.- Вой, вой ўлмасам, сенга нима бўлди! -деди бечора, саросима ичра.Кейин чопиб уйга кириб кетдилар.Бироздан кейин туника чойнагимизда илиқ сув олиб чиқиб, тилимга қуйдилар.

Шундан кейингина тилим темирдан ажраб, худди қопқондан қутилган бўридай енгил тортдим.

Келаси йили дадам билан колхоз отхонасига бориб, ховури чиқиб турган от гўнгини қопларга солиб, тележкада уйга ташидик.Кейин уларни ўрага ташлаб, қўлбола теплица қурдик.Дадам у ўрага февраль ойларида помидори уруғларини экдилар.Шундай қилиб биз кўчат етиштириб, тадбиркорлик билан шуғилланадиган бўлдик.Кейинчалик ростакамига теплица қурдик.Мен қиш кечлари ўша парникка кўмир ташиб, буғли истигич печкасини ёқиб, қўқонлик шоир Гулханий каби гўлахилик қиладиган бўлдим.Жим - жит қиш кечалари парник чироғи шуъласида Машраб, Муқумий, Фурқат, Чехов, Пушкин, Жюль Вернларнинг китобларини ўқиб ўтирар эканман, баъзан эгма сувқоғоз томга шитирлаб тушаётган қор учқунларининг илоҳий шивирига қулоқ тутардим.

Секин аста парникчилик ортидан беш тўрт сўмлик бўлдик.Бир ёз оқшоми, дадам ҳаммамизни тўплаб: -Озгина пул йиғилди.Шунга сигир харид қилсакми, ё телевизор сотиб олсакмикин? -дедилар, бизга синчиков назар ташлаб.Кейин: -Қани, сигир оламиз деганлар қўл кўтарсин! -деди.Мендан бошқа ҳамма қўл кўтарди.Дадам менга ҳайрон бўлиб қарадилар.Сўнг: -Ҳа, сен нега қўл кўтармаяпсан?!-дедилар. -Телевизор оламиз -дедим мен, секингина.Дадам мени койий бошладилар: - Эҳ, калласи йўқ!Қара ака -укаларингнинг ақллилигини!Тўғрида, сигирнинг сутини, қатиғини ичасан, сарёғини нонга суртиб ёйсан.Туғса, боласини катта қилиб, сотсанг, ана пул!Тапписини деворга ёпиб, қишда печкага ёқасан.Гўнгини айтмайсанми, гўнгини! Тайёр ўғит!Сен бефаросат бўлсанг, телевизор оламиз дейсана.Телевизордан нима фойда, хомкалла?!-дедилар.Мен индамадим.Аммо ўз фикримдан қайтмадим.Ўша кеч бу дунёнинг адолатсизлигини ўйлаб ётиб, уйқуга кетдим.

Эртасига дадам шаҳарга бориб, сигир эмас, "Рассвет" русумидаги оқ -қора тасвирли телевизорни стабилизатори билан бирга харид қилиб, уйга олиб келсалар бўладими.Телевизорни қўйганимиздаги хурсандчилигимни оддий сўзлар билан ифодалаб бўлмайди.Қарасам, кеча сигир оламиз деб қўл кўтарган ака-укаларим ҳаммалари симга қўнган қалдирғочлардай қатор бўлиб ўтириб, телевизор кўришяпти.Раҳматли дадам мени ўшанда койиган бўлсаларда, барибир адолатли подшо каби менинг мухолиф фикримни инобатга олганлар, масалага инсоф билан ёндошган эдилар.

Энди аям билан боғлиқ бир воқеага тўхталмасам бўлмас.

Ёз эди.Даладан ўт ўриб, оғир ўт боғламини елкамда кўтариб, ихраб -сихраб ховлимизга кирдиму боғламни елкамдан ташладим ва шу ондаёқ бир оёғимни чангаллаб ўтириб қолдим.Оёғимга катта яра чиққан эди.У яра шимимнинг пойчасига ёпишиб қолган экан. (Мен ўша пайтларда ҳам бошқаларга оғиримни туширмаслик учун дард келса, ҳеч кимга айтмай, индамай юраверар эдим.) Ҳуллас, ўтни ерга ташлаганимда ярам кўчиб, арчилиб кетибди.Оғриқдан афтимни бужмайтириб, азоб чекаётганимни кўрган аям югириб келдилар.Сўнг кўчиб кетган ярамни кўриб, йиғлаб юбордилар.Ҳа, ахмақ бола, оёғинга шундай яра чиққанини бизга айтмай юравердингми? -дедилар, кўз ёшлари дувиллаб тўкилиб.Сўнг илиқ сув олиб келиб, ярамга қуйиб, уни шимимнинг пойчасидан ажратиб, тозалаб ювиб, бинт билан боғлаб қўйдилар.

Йиллар ўтиб улғайиб, билим юртида ўқидим.Билим юрти мутахассислиги бўйича дипломни олдиму у диплом бўйича бир кун ҳам ишламадим.Ўзимнинг Худо берган хунарим рассомчилик билан уйларнинг деворларига халтура расмлар чизиб, колхозларда алвон матоларга елим аралаштирилган тиш парашоги билан шиорлар ёзиб, тирикчилик қиладиган бўлдим.

Кейин харбий хизматга кетдим.Армия хизматидан кейин Тошкент Давлат Университетида ўқидим.Тошкентнинг нуфузли нашриётларида китобларим нашр қилинди.Шеърларим адабий жамоатчилик тамонидан тан олиниб, Ўзбекистон Ёзувчилари уюшмасига аъзо бўлдим.Ҳурмуҳаммад тоғам олий маълумотли зиёлий, адабиётни чуқур тушунадиган инсон бўлганликлари учун китобларимдаги шеърларни таҳлил қилиб, фахрланиб юрдилар.

Айниқса бир фалсафий шеъримдаги:

Осмон о симон, худди йўқлик рамзи ноль рақамидай

деган ташбехдан ҳайратланар эдилар.

2000 йиллар уйларига борсам, Ҳурмуҳаммад тоғам овқатга уннаб, нарсаларни тўғраштираётган келин аямга: -Турсиной, эсингдами? Шу Холдор кичкина бола эди.Манашу ховлиларда югириб ўйнаб юрарди.Энди қарагин, катта бўлиб, шеърлар ёзиб, китоблари чиқибди.Ўзбекистон Ёзувчилар уюшмасига аъзо бўлибдия! -деди.Шунда унинг меҳр тўла кўзларида хурсандчилик кўз ёшларини кўрганман.Афсус, мени ҳаммадан ҳам кўпроқ тушунадиган, шундай ажойиб, ўқимишли, зиёлий тоғам эрта оламдан ўтиб кетдилар.Жойлари Жаннатдан бўлсин.


Биламан, бечора тоғамни фарзанд доғи адойи тамом қилди.Бир ўғли автоҳалокатда оламдан ўтди.Яна бир Акрамжон деган олий маълумотли жаррох ўғиллари буйрак дардига йўлиқди.

Қаранг, қанча одамлар ҳаётини сақлаб қолган жаррох ўз дардига даво тополмади!Акрамжоннинг ахволи йилдан йилга оғирлашаверди.Охири буйраклари ишламай қолгач, унга соғлом буйрак имплантанти зарур бўлиб қолди.

Шундай кунларнинг бирида Ҳурмуҳаммад тоғамнинг Рустамжон деган ўғли жаррохлик столига ётиб, оғир дарддан азоб чекаётган акаси Акрамжонга ўз буйрагини кесиб ўрнатишларига рози бўлди ва бу ҳайрли муолажа муваффақиятли амалга оширилди.Аммо Акрамжонга бу муолажа ҳам ёрдам беролмади.Автохалокат туфайли оламдан ўтган фарзанд фироқи, ва ҳаёт шами шундоққина кўз ўнгида сўниб бораётган ўғли Акрамжоннинг тузалмас дарди тоғамнинг юрагини тилка пора қилди.Худди яшин урган дарахтдай фарзанд доғидан ёниб кул бўлган тоғам, яна бир фарзанди Акрамжоннинг иложсиз аҳволига чидай олмай, охири бу ғам - қайғу тўла муваққат дунёни тарк этдилар. Ҳурмуҳаммад тоғамнинг вафотларидан кўп ўтмай, Акрамжон ҳам оламдан кўз юмди.

Ўз буйрагини ҳеч иккиланмай акасига кесиб беролган Рустамжоннинг ҳақиқий укалик жасорати эса ҳали ҳануз мени қойил қолдиради, ҳайратлантиради.Баъзи ака -укалар арзимас молу дунёни деб, уй жой талашиб, бир бирлари билан уришиб, юз кўрмас, қиёмат дийдор бўлиб кетаётган шу кунларда Рустамжоннинг жасорати нафақат ўзбек ёшларига, балки бутун инсониятга ибрат эмасми?

Менинг шундай яхши қариндошларим борлигидан доимо фахрланиб юраман.



Тунги соат 11:36.

Канада, Онтерио.

Сўз сўнгида меҳрибон тоғам Ҳурмуҳаммад Кенжаев ҳотирасига бағишлаб ёзган шеъримни ҳукмингизга ҳавола қиламан.


Ойдин сукунат

(Тоғам Ҳурмуҳаммад Кенжаевнинг порлоқ ҳотирасига)


Тоға, Чувамада ҳозир ҳойнаҳой,

Оқшом тушиб, қуёш ботгандир.

Оппоқ чинни товоқ каби ой,

Тентаксойда чўкиб ётгандир?

Тошқин бузган кўприк ходаси,

Тахталари ётгандир кўчиб?

Сув кечарди сигир подаси,

У кўприкдан ўтгани чўчиб.

Қуриллайди балки бақалар,

Қирғоқларда қамишлар оҳи.

Дайди тулки сувлар ёқалаб,

Қулоқ тутар жимликка гоҳи.

Сўқмоқ уни соҳилга бошлар,

Ғир ғир эсар тунги шабада.

Кўринар сув остида тошлар,

Боғбон эса ухлар капада.

Юлдузларни жимлик хоритар,

Олис осмон -овоз етмас жой.

Қабрингизни ғамгин ёритар,

Жим -жит, сокин сукунатда ой.




Тунги соат 1 дан 21 дақиқа ўтди.

Канада, Онтерио.



Холдор Вулкан

Член Союза писателей Узбекистана




Дедушка Холдора Вулкана


1 глава повести "Далекие огни"

Бабушка Холдора Вулкана


Я задумчиво смотрел на падающий снег. Он падал, кружась, то торопливо, то тихо. Крупные белые снежинки, кружились в воздухе, словно пушинки пристреленных лебедей, собравшихся улететь на юг.

Снег падал так красиво и так густо, что я едва различал деревянный забор, стройные березы, кафе под названием "У Ахмеда" и частную лавку, которая в народе называлась "Камок", где торговала продуктами добрая дунганка по имени Халима.

Я здесь жил, днем убирал снег, рубил топором дрова и иногда топил баню. Я любил колоть дрова. Это было одно из моих любимых занятий. Когда я орудовал топором, я чувствовал себя лесорубом, который валит вековые сосны и кедры в глубине далекой тайги, где от стука дятлов дрожит воздух, где с грохотом падают срубленные деревья, пронизывая воздух запахом свежей и сочной сосновой коры. Я колол дрова и забывал на какое-то время о моем изгнании из родных мест, где я родился и вырос.

Я колол дрова, а из окна глядел на меня мой маленький сын Саид, улыбаясь и махая мне ручкой.

Проклятое изгнание не пощадило даже моих сыновей, лишив их друзей, которые остались на родине. У Саида здесь не было друзей. Он играл один, и, глядя на него, я чувствовал, как на глаза мои наворачиваются слезы. Жалко мне было сына.

Я думал о своей прошедшей жизни, которая было похожа на трагикомедию. Если хорошенько подумать, то мне представляется, что я был врожденным оппозиционером. Помню, я часто играл в футбол со своими друзьями во дворе старого, заброшенного свинарника, который располагался на берегу реки Карадарьи, где в маленьком хуторе жили каракалпаки. Хутор находился недалеко от глубоких оврагов и ущелий. Какие высокие тополя росли тогда в этом хуторе! Как шумели воробьи, оглушая своим щебетаньем всю окрестность, когда садилось солнце, скрываясь за горами Тянь-Шаня, господи!

Я вспоминаю, как-то раз мы, ребята с нашей округи, долго играли футбол, не заметив, как стало вечереть, и возвращались по пыльной дорогой домой, голодные, усталые и довольные. Приближаясь к дому, я вспомнил о заданиях, которые дал мне отец, и в сердце моем тоже начали опускаться сумерки. Отец у меня был строгим, и я чувствовал всегда его пытливый взгляд и боялся его. Я хотел зайти в дом тихо и незаметно, продвигаясь на цыпочках, как аист в рисовом поле, который шагает осторожно, чтобы не вспугнуть лягушек, надеясь полакомиться ими. Но тут вдруг появился отец и - хоп! - я попался. Начался "суд" надо мной, в котором отец единолично был одновременно и прокурором, и судьей. Он вынес мне суровый приговор и определил наказание.

Лишённый адвокатов, я оказался на улице.

В такие моменты я знал, что мне делать. Не раздумывая долго, я пошёл к дедушке с бабушкой, которые любили и жалели меня. Я попросил у них политическое убежище, и они, не требуя особых документов, дали мне убежище. Помывшись, я сел на курпачу обильного дастархана*. Накормив меня, бабушка постелила мне мягкую постель с пуховой подушкой и, поцеловав меня в лоб, пожелала мне спокойной ночи.

Низкий дом, где жили дедушка с бабушкой, имел глиняный пол, на котором была расстелена мягкая солома, покрытая ковром. Человек, который наступал на этот ковер, чувствовал себя человеком, стоящим над огромной резиновой грелкой с теплой водой.

Смотрю - дедушка мой сидит и при свете керосиновой лампы читает какую-то книгу с пожелтевшими страницами, надев очки с овальной оправой, какие люди носили во времена Антона Павловича Чехова. Бабушка латала белый яктак*, похожий на японское мужское кимоно моего деда. В лачуге царила такая арктическая тишина, что я слышал громкое, ритмичное тиканье старинных часов, похожих на голос ящерицы Геккона, которая жила в щелях не отштукатуренных стен и в сумраках охотилась за мотыльками. Дед мой в то время пас колхозных лошадей. Хотя он был пастухом лошадей, он был большим ученым, то есть муллой, который знал наизусть "Куръони Карим" и умел правильно трактовать ояты из этой священной Книги мусульман. Как он гонял лошадей на водопой! Какие были красивые лошади! Красные, белые, черные, серые, пятнистые! Как они пили воду отражаясь в воде арыка, шевеля своими смешными губами и храпя, у края арыка, где мы купались, где на ветру шумели высокие зеленые ивы и стройные тополя! Как эти лошади скакали дробя своими копытами по наших улиц, теребя на вольном ветру свои гривы словно разноцветные флаги государств мира у задании ООН!

Дед мой был стариком высокого роста, худого телосложения и с короткой бородой. А бабушка моя - напротив, была низкорослая и полная. Дедушка с бабушкой напоминали мне Дон Кихота с Санчо Пансой. Но, несмотря на различие, жили они дружно. Когда бабушка смеялась, во рту у неё виднелся один единственный сохранившийся зуб, как у зевающего бегемота. Лежа в постели, я глядел в окно низкой лачуги.

За окном сияла огромная луна, тихо поднимаясь из-за деревьев. Неподалёку стояло огромное дерево бака терек*- белый тополь, который принадлежал соседке дедушки с бабушкой по имени Куки-хола, то есть тетя Куки. Это была чересчур худая женщина, кривая на одну руку, которая высохла, к тому же она была почти без нижней челюсти и слепая на один глаз. Слепой глаз её был похож на белый камень, торчащий из щели в заборе. С непривычки, человек, увидев её в первый раз, упал бы в обморок от сильного испуга. Но эта одинокая старуха была доброй, любила детей, и мы, дети, тоже любили её и не боялись её внешнего вида. Было ли имя Куки её псевдонимом или настоящим именем, я до сих пор не знаю. Знал только, что она всю жизнь ждала своего любимого мужа, который ушёл на фронт и не вернулся домой после второй мировой войны. Она всё время ждала его, так и не выйдя замуж. Тетя Куки хотя была внешне некрасивая, но она была самой красивой женщиной внутри, то есть в душе. Я часто вспоминаю тётю и её дом с низким окном, где вечерами за окном грустно тлела керосиновая лампа, освещая её грустное лицо, покрытое тенью одиночества.

Я лежал на постели и думал о ней, но тут неожиданно дед, сняв с глаз очки с круглой оправой, сказал бабушке:
- Ну, старуха, кончай штопать! Ты ляжешь спать, в конце концов, или нет, латтапарст! Если честно, я до этого никогда не слышал такое смешное слово как латтапараст и не знал, что оно означает Женщина, которая любит тряпки. Я чуть не захохотал. Еле удержался. Я давил свой смех так, что от напряжения весь покраснел до самой шеи, набрав полный рот воздуха. Сижу и думаю, не дай бог, я захохочу, ведь они тоже могут выгнать меня из своей лачуги. Куда я пойду, на ночь глядя. Но я не смог удержать себя и взорвался. Захохотал. Смотрю, дедушка с бабушкой тоже смеются. При свете керосиновой лампы я снова увидел единственный сохранившийся у бабушки зуб, и ещё сильнее начал смеяться. Сам шайтан алайхуллаъна попутал меня. Смеюсь - и не могу остановиться.

Тогда дедушка снова сделал серьезный вид и, глядя на свои ногти, как бы подавляя смех, сказал:
- Астагфируллах, Астагфируллах!*

И мы перестали смеяться. Потом, потушив керосиновую лампу, легли спать. Утром после завтрака дед мой взял меня за руки и депортировал меня обратно, то есть отвёл домой.




Холдор Вулкан



Холдор Вулқон

Ўзбекистон Ёзувчилари уюшмасининг аъзоси

Комронбекнинг ўчмас ёди

18 ёшида дунёни тарк этган жияним Комронбек вафотидан аввал ўзи касал ётган холатда, синглим Дилоромга: -Ая, акангизни эслаб, ҳадеб қайғураверманг.

Ижодкорлар мусофирликда, қийинчиликда ватанини, халқини қаттиқроқ соғиниб, янада кучлироқ ижод қиладилар.

Тоғам ҳам Бобур, Фурқатларга ўхшаб, Худо ҳохласа, зўр асарлар ёзади, мана мен айтди дерсиз -деган экан.

Бу сўзлари билан у менинг зиммамга Ер шари оғирлиги қадар улкан масъулият залворини юклаб кетди.

Раҳматли жиянимнинг ҳали ҳеч ким эшитмаган мураккаб топишмоқлар айтиб, одамларни ўйлашга, мулоҳаза юритишга ундайдиган одати бор эди.

Бугун энди ўзи топиб бўлмас топишмоққа айланиб қолди.

Мен ҳар доим ғам - қайғудан ҳоли ёруғ ва туйғули асарлар ёзишга ҳаракат қилганман.

Қуйидаги шеърни эса, ҳарчанд уринмайин, кўз ёшисиз ёзишнинг уддасидан чиқолмадим.

Жойинг Жаннатдан бўлсин, Комрон!


(Жияним Комронбекнинг порлоқ ҳотирасига)

Мисоли минг йилда бир келган даҳо,
Юрардинг жилмайиб, топишмоқ айтиб.
Бу ёруғ дунёда, Комронбек, наҳот,
Энди кўришмасмиз сен билан қайтиб?

Кексалардай оқил, донишманд, зийрак,
Сен келган эдингми дард, азоб учун?
Топиб беролмадик биз сенга буйрак,
Дардинг ололмадик, сен бизни кечир.

Дарчадан мўралар сени излаб ой,
Ахтарар боғлардан сени то саҳар.
Комронбек қаерда?, топингларчи, ҳой!
Тополмайди ҳеч ким, берарлар шаҳар.

Йиғлаб, мозоринга очганча бағир,
Онанг изларингни тополмай ҳалак.
Сенсиз дунё унга Саҳрои кабир,
Оҳидан зир титрар осмону фалак.

Шум ўлим кўзларни қилиб шамғалат,
Олиб кетди умринг гуллаган пайти.
Энди завол кўрмай юргин сен абад,
Жаннат ҳурларига топишмоқ айтиб.

Кундуз соат 10:32.
Канада, Онтерио.