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132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

 

Chapter 8 of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"


(Translated by author)


Chapter 8

Moon over the cotton fields




For the tractor driver Sultan there is nothing more romantic than fall quiet hours of sunset, when the sun is setting over the cotton fields. He loved looking at a sad ball of fire the sun which is slowly sinking into the crimson cloud. Then it starts to get dark. Looking at this landscape, the tractor driver Sultan somehow wanted to cry with a swarm of mosquitoes who mourn forever gone forever day. Immersed and fields in the twilight, where workers still picking cotton, to complete the cotton harvest and to earn money for their daily bread. Most interesting is that cotton can assemble even in the dark, so as he white and it can be seen even in the dark. In the twilight fields Comptroller Abdelkasim shouts in the voice, something like:


- Hey bring the cotton! His voice is alarmed as the bird flies over fields in the evening silence. Sultan is a tractor driver with a trailer and carrying cotton on hirman, that is, to a point where the harvested cotton is sent to the dryer in the open air, under the sun. Stopping his tractor, he was with his beloved girlfriend Khurshida to carry harvested cotton to hirman. Together they folded the cotton into huge bales, barely tying the ends of the apron. When the tractor driver Sultan put the bale of cotton, Khurshida laughed.


- Why are You laughing, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige pace of sua e fusible manege? - asked the tractor driver Sultan.


Khurshida, barely suppressing his laughter, said:


- You are very similar to the white spider, which carries its larva she said, still laughing.


The tractor driver Sultan laughed too. Then they went to the side of the Maidan where the timekeeper in the light of a kerosene lamp, which lit up his face, weighed the bales of cotton. His assistant wrote down the digits in a worn notebook with a list of names of cotton growers. Khurshida and the tractor driver Sultan was in the queue at the last place. Weighing the cotton workers on the hanging weights attached to a self-made tripod, the timekeeper, shouting loudly for all to hear:


- Twenty-nine kilograms! Next!


With these words he removed the bale from the hook of the scales and throwing it to the side kick the knee. And there are two healthy guys missed a bale with two sides, and swinging at the expense of "one-two-three" and threw it into the tractor trailer. The trailer worked two porters who emptied apron, threw it down. Blank white aprons flying in the gloom in all directions shot as swans and as the night parachutes paratroopers. Sultan with Khurshida sat on the edge of Maidan, bales, stuffed with cotton, as other workers who were standing around, slapping hands, killing and driving away mosquitoes bloodsuckers. Meanwhile, the sky lit up a distant star and the horizon beyond the fields slowly began to raise, the moon softly lighting hirman.


- What a beauty! - Admiringly said Khurshida.


- Wow!What a beautiful moon! How brightly the stars twinkle! - confirmed her words to Sultan.


- You see, over the slope shines the big dipper! - Continued to admire Khurshida- one, two, three, four... seven bright stars! They are similar to bucket! An amazing sight, isn't it, and the moon? It is round-round, as if drawn by a compass, like a bowl of Chinese porcelain! -Khurshida said, waving away the pesky hungry mosquitoes.


- And the crickets? How loud and in unison they sing! Night rings from their streets! Or is it grasshoppers sing? Honestly, I don't know much about insects. But I love their monotone chorus, and you? - asked the tractor driver Sultan.


And who doesn't like singing crickets?! This is divine music cleanses the soul by the light of the moon, said Khurshida.


Yes. I had one friend poacher said the tractor driver Sultan. He engaged in fishing crickets, put them in matchboxes and sold in the city fishermen, who used crickets as bait, fishing, stringing them on hooks of their fishing lines. Many citizens bought crickets that my friend the poacher and let them free in their apartments, where the crickets sang enthusiastically in the silence of the night, as on the lawn when the moon peeks out the window. And I think the citizens were happy, lying in their bedroom and could not sleep until I stop cricket. Romance!


So talking, they approached the scales on a tripod, made from willow sticks where the timekeeper was weighed last bales of cotton. At this time, almost all the workers went home. It was only the timekeeper and his assistants there.


- Oh, Sultan, all gone. How will I now go home in the dark alone? - fearfully said Khurshida.


- Don't you worry Your Majesty Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege. I'll take you home to this fabulous carriage with the iron horse. Just today I go to the cotton dryer place, through Your Street. What do You fear, when You humble mechanic athlete, who have long studied such martial arts as Jiu-jitsu, street fight, kung fu, Taekwondo, Muaythai, Aikido, and so on - began to calm his beloved tractor driver Sultan.


- A joke is a joke, but I in any case will not sit beside you in the cab of your tractor. Just go in the trailer warned Khurshida.


- Good - agreed the tractor driver Sultan.


Before leaving, Khurshida climbed into the trailer and lay down on comfortable cotton. She lay like an angel who is resting on white clouds. The tractor driver Sultan wanted to have the tractor engine, but the motor for some reason would not start. Heard only the sound of the starter - chgi-gigi - gigi -gigi! Chgi -gigi -gigi -gigi!


- Come on, Satan! - Sultan got angry and slapped his hand on the steering wheel. Khurshida was still drowning in cotton, as in a white cloud, and looked at the shining moon and bright stars.


- Well, what have you, Sultan?! Won't start or what?! - asked the timekeeper who just were leaving.


Lifting up the lantern, he lit the cabin.


- Yes, with the carb, something happened. Or the plugs are wet. You need to check nervously said Sultan, and added:


- You are the timekeeper, leave me a kerosene lamp. I'll leave it in the field camp. And then, as luck would have it, I don't have even a flashlight - said Sultan.


- Okay - agreed to the timekeeper and leaving the lamp to the Sultan, went with his assistant home.


The tractor driver Sultan jumped out of the cab and turned to Khurshida:


- Excuse me, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege! I never thought that fabulous coach breaks down! Go down, need your help! Hold this magical lamp of Aladdin, and I'm in its light I'll try to fix the motor! he said.


Oh my God, what is it, huh?! My mother must have given birth to another Khurshida worrying for me. Now I'm done. Dad's going to kill me! Well, what a fool I am, eh? Why could I not go home? -Khurshida said, getting off the trailer.


Frustrated, she went to the tractor driver Sultan; he took the kerosene lamp and began to cover the open hood of tractor, illuminating his face a red light.


- Don't you worry, Khurshidabanu, everything will be fine ' said the tractor driver Sultan, digging in the motor.


This time around the burning of the kerosene lamp started flying little bugs. In the lamplight their transparent wings were glowing orange-yellow, then fiery red. To Khurshida they seemed fiery. Moths hovered around the light. After a while Khurshida began to swell hands. But the tractor driver Sultan was still fiddling with the engine.


- Well, how long there'll still be digging?! And my hands are swollen! -Khurshida complained.


- Now, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege, be patient and don't drop the lantern, you hear?- said the tractor driver Sultan.


- Well - said Khurshida complained, holding the lamp in the other hand. Finally, the tractor driver Sultan fixed the motor and raised his head, wiping cloth stained dirty hands.


- Well, that's all he said, smiling and jumping down. And you were very impatient majesty, Mrs. Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege.


Closing the hood, he climbed into the cab, and Khurshida climbed into the trailer. Convinced that Khurshida in the trailer, the tractor driver Sultan started the engine, and the tractor smoothly went to the side of the field mill. On reaching the field camp, the tractor driver Sultan stopped the tractor and got out of the cab, carefully holding a kerosene lamp, which shone like a large precious diamond. As he promised, put the lamp on a makeshift field in the table under the acacia and wanted to repay it, when his knees buckled.


- Wow!- he groaned, leaning on the table, and sat down exhausted. Seeing this, Khurshida scared.


- Oh, what's wrong with You, Sultan! You get sick or hurt? I now! - she shouted and quickly got off of the trailer. Then he ran to rescue his beloved.


- What happened, Sultan?! Are you sick?! Do not scare me, please. Or You are joking again? - she asked, approaching the tractor driver Sultan.


- Nothing, don't worry, it'll pass. Head something spun by me, ' said the tractor driver Sultan, trying to calm the frightened girl.


Khurshida sat down next to the tractor driver Sultan and inadvertently palms of the hands touched his forehead the tractor driver Sultan to know if he had temperature. The tractor driver Sultan thought that his forehead touched the hand, Khurshida, and heavenly angel.


- Excuse me, Khurshida for what You because I was late home. Here comes a little to himself, and we'll go. I will come to your home and explain everything to your parents. I think they will understand us correctly. If anything, I'm even prepared to die defending You and Your mother from Your father!.. Oh, something I want to lie down... Can I go lie down a bit?


- Yes, of course. You, it, Sultan, don't worry about me; I'll explain everything to my parents. They believe me. Let me help you. You lie so... I mean put your head on my lap and don't be shy - said Khurshida.


Thanks, Khurshida- thanked the tractor driver Sultan adhered on the bed and put my head on my knees Khurshida.


- Do you think the temperature... God, I don't even know how to help you. Unfortunately, there is no nearby phone so I could call an Ambulance - crying Khurshida. She sat up, fending off mosquitoes with a scarf from the tractor driver Sultan, and its dense and gentle curly hair shone over the face of the Sultan as black silk half-mast the flag of love, with her eyes rolling tears.


'Don't cry, Khurshida. Even when I'm gone, don't cry. Because I'm not worthy of your diamond tears. You're not meant to grief and tears, and to smiles and happiness. Come on, smile. Oh, how I love your smile! It's like the sun illuminates my life and my inner world, my soul with joy begins to sing like a lark over the morning field said the tractor driver Sultan.


- You know, Sultan -Khurshida smiled through her tears.


- How you are beautiful, Khurshida! You have a lovely smile! That smile will heal even the most hopeless incurable disease! Here you smile, and I begin to feel healing. Yes, I feel better already, believe me, Khurshida. This is a new method of treatment in the medical world and its called smilingtherapy! Help me please; I want to raise -said Sultan.


- Yes?! Well, thank God, thank God! - Glad Khurshida, helping her beloved boyfriend up.


The tractor driver Sultan sat down. Khurshida involuntarily hugged the tractor driver Sultan and laid her head against his shoulder. On a makeshift field Desk all burned kerosene lamp, gazing at its red light face couple. Around the glow of the lantern happily flew a small light-brown beetle. Over the fields the moon is shining bright and dreamy stars glittered.

 

 


Chapter 9

Lumberjack





The tractor driver Sultan was driving his tractor on a country road, thinking about the beauty Khurshida, forgetting everything else except the steering wheel and the road.
- What a beautiful girl! What color was her hair, what hair, Oh, my God! They look like curly algae in the clear water on the ocean, on some Pacific Atoll, and the figure of her? Eyes, lips, smooth chin, Swan-like neck and white soft hands! If Khurshida will participate in the international beauty contest, I'm sure on one hundred percent that she would take the first place, and possess the title of "the most beautiful girl on the planet." I wonder if Khurshida has a boyfriend. I wonder why I did not immediately ask her. Oh, i wish this tractor go faster. Why is time as slow as a tortoise in the Galapagos Islands? On other days, the sun quickly rises over the fields and wakes skylarks, who selflessly poured a trill on an empty stomach, and there look - it's already heading into the sunset, where the plaintive buzzing mosquitoes. Oh, it's beauty slowly and silently rises like the moon softly lighting the deserted fields of my soul, reducing me crazy! As now I can work and live without her? And how loudly she laughs!
With such thoughts the tractor driver Sultan arrived at the field where the cotton harvesters in the morning started picking cotton. He stopped his tractor in a convenient place at lunchtime cotton growers bring to the weigh harvested cotton in huge bales. Sitting in the cockpit, he found the sight Khurshida, jumped from the cab and approached her. They said Hello.
- Well, mister slacker Monsieur Sultan de La Crua je'mapple a la maison general, la tge bien, merci beaucoup moi!, help me gather the cotton? Here, take my extra apron and put it on - she grinned Khurshida.
- And, of course, will help, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege said the tractor driver Sultan, wearing the apron, so from the front it formed a pouch like a kangaroo.
- Well, how similar do I look like a kangaroo? -asked the tractor driver Sultan bouncing.
- The kangaroo arms are very short and You have long arms -said Khurshida fun and laughing loudly.
- Yes? You think? However, Madam Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege, you can climb up to my bumper and I'll ride across the savannah cotton fields, doing a two-meter jumping - said the tractor driver Sultan.
Khurshida again burst into laughter. So conversing, the lovers began to pick cotton.
Sultan, who were you before, before you got here? - asked Khurshida.
-Oh, it's a long story - started to remember about his past Sultan, not looking up from his work and continued. -I used to work in Charvak mountain nature reserve as a Ranger. I lived in a cottage on a high cliff, at an altitude of 1000 meter above sea level. In cloudy weather my hut disappeared among the clouds. Sooner from lack of oxygen I was opposes ears, and my nose was bleeding. Then gradually I got used to it. Under a high cliff, where I led a solitary life, furiously seething Mountain River, and its waves roar assailed on granite rocks, honing and polishing them to a Shine mirrors. The water in the river was so cold that my teeth instantly froze even in summer. Entering the water was more dangerous not so much because of the transience and deep-water nature of the river, but because of its icy water that freezes the feet, body and even the human brain. The amazing thing to me was that in a river with too cold water, fish lived. One evening, opening the window of my hut, I lowered a rope with a bucket into a deep well and got the water out of the river. Then I raised the bucket. Look in the bucket floats a small carp, slapping the tail on water, which splashed, glittering in the light of the shining moon! Well, wonders! - I think. For a person like me who lives in the desolate mountains, it was amazing. And on a nearby cliff lived an eagle. They were flying high, spreading its mighty wings and soared in the sky forming a large circle.
-Chyaaaaaaake!- the eagles shouted they have, proudly flying over a century of mining the rocks above the forests above the rushing river. Although they by nature were birds of prey, but they lived in their nest in peace and friendship, treated each other with understanding and respect. The eagles fed their Chicks fresh meat, when people in our country ate only bread and tea, sometimes eating the grass as vegetarians. I was jealous of eagles and white and from the heart, because they lived freely, not like other eagles that live in cells.
One day I came home from work and look in my cabin all upside down, as they say, upside down. The cause of the mess I immediately recognized. It turns out that my hut got protein. I barely drove it, hitting with a slotted spoon in the bowl and shouting. In clear weather, looking out the window of the hut you can enjoy the summer scenery. I was fascinated by the snow coated Mountain peaks, green pine forests with its original untouched form. The funny thing was that when I looked down, it seemed to me that rock where is my hut, floating in the air constantly, like a ship at sea. My head was spinning at the sight of this spectacle. In bad weather I was forced to stay at home, tightly closed doors and Windows, as the cabin could invade the clouds. In the cloudless night sit at the window and watching the moon in the vast sky teeming with a myriad of stars shimmering over the forest. Sometimes in the blue dusk I fell asleep at the window leaning on the sill. Sometimes the noise starts pouring tropical rain, and the grey wall of rain fade area. Rolling thunder, stunning the neighborhood. And after the rain it was easy to breath, filling your lungs with fresh and healthy air. After the rain, the world seems rejuvenated. In such moments, you more want to live on this beautiful planet. You see, on the leaves of grass and on the wet branches of bushes slowly crawling snails, lazily stretching out their delicate little horns on the ends of which located their tiny eyes. I love snails. They move slowly, sticking his neck out of the fragile shell. Deep in the mountains where I lived and worked as a Ranger, especially on the lawns, a lot of snails - I finished the story of the tractor driver Sultan.
-What wonderful dreams and what you have a past lyric, Sultan! - Admiringly said Khurshida.
Yeah, I can't complain. Now let me ask you one delicate question, Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege - said the tractor driver Sultan, without waiting for a reply, continued:
- Of course, I am sorry for what you are asking sometimes silly questions, like an inexperienced investigator in an investigative isolator. It's the fact that I love you, and without you I can't live not only in this world, but even in Heaven. Well, judge for yourself if I miss you after a few minutes after we parted, how can I live without you in heaven where people live forever? I love you so much that when I see You, I freeze for a moment like a wall, like the person in the picture. Answer me honestly and straight-You have a boyfriend or not? Soothe the soul of the poor mechanic, who adores you. Did you find it difficult to say two little words, Yes or no?
After hearing the tractor driver Sultan, Khurshida again blushed. She tried not to look into the eyes of the tractor driver Sultan, who waited for an answer from her on his hard inquisitive question. Finally, Khurshida said:
- You know, you are asking me very tough questions. Well, the tractor driver Sultan, if you insist, then I will have to still answer this question. Just promise me that You won't be offended -Khurshida said, his eyes downcast.
- I promise. The word of man - said the tractor driver Sultan, prepared to listen.
I don't know how to tell you...Well, if briefly, then... yeah, I mean... I have a boyfriend - admitted Khurshida. From these words the tractor driver Sultan shuddered, turned pale face from feelings of jealousy and powerlessness.
Yes? - He said with difficulty, as he had a dry throat. Although the tractor driver Sultan was quite strong and a strong guy, but there he sat from impotence on a large bale of cotton.
- Yes - said Khurshida.
- Who is he? - asked the tractor driver Sultan.
I'm afraid to say. He's so handsome, strong, clever,Khurshida started to list the positive side of her lover guy.
- Well, You cut me without a knife. Well... well, okay. So there is still having a boyfriend. Well, it's a pity that so happened. Okay by then, I'll leave so as not to disturb you. Au-revoir, Mrs Duchess Khurshidabanu Madame de La Marquise La tombala neige a pa seue pasuble manege, Au-revoir- said the tractor driver Sultan, rising, going out. But then it kept - Khurshida said.
- It's you! That is, I have no boyfriend, except for You, Sultan! -Khurshida said smiling and blushing.
-Yes?! -asked the tractor driver Sultan.
- Yes - quietly, almost in a whisper - said Khurshida.
The tractor driver Sultan full of joy he wanted to shout at the whole field that he's the luckiest man in the world, but Khurshida shut his mouth with the palm of his gentle hands. The tractor driver Sultan hugged his beloved girl tightly and kissed her on the lips, eyes, neck...
- Hurray! - he said, looking into the beautiful eyes. And she smiled through her tears.

 


 

132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

 

Chapter 7 of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"

(Translated by author)

7 chapter

Funny story of the tractor driver Sultan




- Daughter, have you collected information about the guy? -asked Raheela.

- Yes, mother, I learned that the tractor driver Sultan from the village of "Tuyamuyun", located at the foot of the Charvak mountains. According to him, near the mountain village flows the river, which originates high in the snowy peaks, where even in summer the snow does not melt. Healing water, the air crystal clear, the village is in the verdure he says. At the foot of the snowy peaks stretch for miles, pistachio, apricot and hazelnut trees, mountain ridges covered with tall thickets of wild raspberry, old spruce forests, where woodpeckers knock, run and jump squirrels in the pine trees, the chirping of birds - in short, a Paradise on earth. Here will go there, spend a day or two, and all You have, says he, will disappear forever the desire to return home, it is here in the farm Tillaquduq. If you want You can stay there for life he said.

And why is he leaving such a wonderful mountainous land here? How did he even get here? You did not ask him?- asked Raheela.

- The fact that he is out of his mountain village went to Tashkent to enter the University, but he failed, and he was ashamed to go back. He decided to work here next year to try again to enroll at Tashkent State University. Prior to that, he is graduated from proof those College and received a law tractor. And he found a job here. In short, that his fate is - explained Khurshida.

- Well, that aggravates the situation, and I'm afraid that your father will never agree to let you marry him because you're our only daughter. If you had brothers or sisters, it would be possible for you to give in marriage, at least in Canada, at least in Europe or in Africa .And I don't want you to go away in distant lands, because without you, I can slowly fade away like a kerosene lamp, which is running out of fuel. Yes, your father is strict but he loves you more than life, and that is why he is demanding to see you. In life anything can happen. In order not to happen something irreparable, we must be very careful. Especially you, because it all depends on you - said Raheela.

What if he wants to stay here and live? -Khurshida asked, not looking up from his work.

- And are you confident in this? He himself said about this?

- No. I'm just guessing.

- I don't know, daughter. You should talk to him about everything.A life of marriage is not a toy. Marriage is for life. But many lovers parted with their beloved, who immediately after the wedding, who later when there are differences and different issues between them. It's the fact that they didn't know about each other before the wedding. The world is a market and life together by. The person, who wants to buy something, must carefully inspect the goods. Or they can buy what he will soon have to throw in the trash. Well, let's say, you bought shoes in the store. In a day or two you feel it's too tight. Going back to the store and change them. A man is not shoes to be able to go and change. To not have to change after marriage, girls should be able to choose the right husband, after a careful examination and testing before getting married said Raheela. Khurshida thought then asked:

- Mom, what if I bring him here? I would talk about everything specifically in your presence.

- Not a bad option. But will he agree to this? And what will the people who see it with us? said Raheela.

- I need to talk to him about this and bring him here said Khurshida.

- Good - agreed Raheela.

Mother and daughter worked until lunch, during lunch, Khurshida spoke to the tractor driver Sultan, and he agreed to go there, where Khurshida with her mother. After lunch, did not wait long, the tractor driver Sultan arrived at the appointed place. After they shook hands, Raheela the first to start a conversation:

- I beg do not judge us strictly, son. Frankly, I know about your warm relations, and see that you are a good guy. Although I believe in you, but all the same I need to know the guy my daughter wants to link their fate. Don't get me wrong. In my place any mother would do the same. Khurshida told me about a mountain village where you come from. In my opinion everything is fine .But, you know, to confess, father of Khurshida strict man with a tough character, and I'm afraid he will not agree with me if I say that I intend to give her husband for you, since you live in a remote mountain village "Tuyamuyun". My question is as follows. Once you are accepted into Tashkent State University, you will go back to your village, or want to live in our area?

- To be honest, Auntie, I used to think that enrolling in Tashkent State University, I live in Tashkent. After graduation, I think to go to the native village, and there to teach lessons to students at a local school. And now I have other plans. You see, that I check young and I am only twenty-five, but I'm still not married. I'd show you my passport, so both of you have seen this,

But I left my passport at home that is in the tractor Park, where I live temporarily. I don't want to carry all the time, both in the area where the curfew, right? - He said.

After these words, Raheela, too, began to laugh.

- Oh, You Joker. And I, naive fool, believed. Don't worry. I believe you, son ' she said.

- Thank you for your trust, Auntie. To be honest, though, my name Sultan, means king, but I'm really, pathetic slave of your daughter. Now I'm ready to do anything to be with Khurshida. Not to stay in these parts, I am ready even to go to the edge of the world if Khurshida wants. Day and night I thank God for what he sent me here, and Iet such a beautiful girl like Your daughter. My life acquired meaning only after I met her. I used to be a simple tractor driver. But despite this, I read a lot for example the novel "don Quixote Lamanchas". Loved the library of our village, where always reigned peace, comfort and tranquility. Come, walk between shelves, looking at books, and relax the soul. Dizzy from the fragrant smell of books, get drunk. Well, the library was for me something quiet resort, free resort, where people restore their health. Read Jack London, Tolstoy, Turgenev, Gogol, Cervantes, Hemingway, Pushkin, Kafka, Yesenin, Abdullah Kadiri, Chingiz Aitmatov and many wonderful writers and poets of world literature. Once I was asked if I wanted to earn a little in the field of sports. I grew, interesting you people of the Lord. So, who wants to earn money, especially in my situation? Of course, want. After that we went. We drove for a long time through the wilderness, crossed the desert, and went to the trailer of the truck, "lorry" of the Stalin era through the mountain passes, where we were being chased by the mute moon. A torn piece bedspread fluttered in the wind like a tattered flag on Mars. We finally arrived in a city. Walked into a building where there were people - a full house. There I was told to take off my clothes. I stand, then, in his shorts and holey t-shirt. They put my skinny arms like sticks, Boxing gloves, and one of them, says he, I am your coach, Mr. Trendeldinov, and you will participate in the world championship on Boxing. Then I accompanied with healthy big boys went to the side of the stage, enclosed by ropes resembling a sheep pen. When everyone walked out on the stage, that is, in the ring, I left my opponent, a short, bald referee with a goat's beard. When the referee introduced us, I was surprised to see his rival, with overly large heads and slanting eyes. The opponent reminded me of Bigfoot, and he continually jumped up and down. His muscular body, from head to toe was covered with tattoos. He drew on his body, the devil knows what: naked mermaid, an octopus, a dragon, devil, Rhino, skull, cemetery, graves, and crosses - in General, a gallery of creepy paintings. Despite his scary appearance, he seemed a good, honest, helpful friendly honest God-fearing man. Finally it was the long-awaited Gong. You see, slash the opponent hits me. I said that you, dear scythe rival, beat me, that said, have I done wrong?! And slash the opponent instead of stop and apologize, even stronger began to beat me. Well, I think things... Crazy to some a patient who just escaped from a psychiatric hospital. He hits and I'm freaking out screaming, through crushing blows. Wanted was to turn to the undersized bald referee with goat beard, but he could not, began to poison us with each other:

- Fight! Fight, grit, scum fighting dogs, rabid bulldogs and pit-bull in human form! Kill, gnaw, grit, throat each other, and tear, grit, meat ripped up!

I said shame on you, comrade undersized bald still narrow-eyed referee with a goat's beard?! Then slash the opponent hit me in the face, and I almost fell. Look - my coach, friend of Trendildinov, also looks with interest and does not take the necessary measures of intersection to solve problems peacefully sitting at the negotiating table.

- Help, people-All! Christians! Jews! Muslims! Bhuddists! Godless atheists -Communists! Well though someone! - I shouted to the whole room.

But my voice disappeared in the noise of onlookers. And people used to to separate us, on the contrary shouting in unison:

- Go-RIL-La! Go-RIL-La! Cross eyed gorilla, kill the skinny boxer with hands like sticks!..

Well, I think, really, not a bit of pity left in this world. Well, to my happiness, came the long-awaited Gong, saving me from the apparent death. I was moving on all fours, barely reached the stool, which was missing one leg. Sitting on a stool, my nose broken, eyes lined on his forehead a lump a size of a lemon, mouth dripping bloody saliva as the count Dracula. Breathe. Suffocating. Give, grew, water. The coach opened the thermos and pours me a cut in a Cup of boiling water. I said, well, you are a greedy miser, where, grew the sugar? Eaten?

- Oh Yes! - remembered my coach friend of Trendeldinov, and pulling from his pocket bodysuits sugar "Comrating", throws in a glass. Coach Trendeldinov, says he, let's chug it down to the bottom, sugar, helps alert, which had lossed a lot of blood in the ring. Then I started to rush, let's great faster, they say, the second round started, and again sounded the Gong. One pot-bellied woman in a quilted jacket with a short, curves and skinny legs in a dirty canvas shoes without soles walked across the stage, raising high the banner with the words "Round 2". I said, comrade coach Trendeldinov, but may not be necessary, they say, stop this bloodshed? Coach, says he, no, not Sultan. People, grit, bought expensive tickets with great hope to see a bloody hand to hand combat modern Gladiator with a fatal outcome. We, says he, now, is doomed. If you pause the fight, the crowd, very angry and could attack us and trample, stoned. Can even apply to us in the Basmanny court, so we returned them the money they spent from the family budget to buy expensive tickets. You, says he, must fight to the end. Then I drank the second glass of water, got up, and again started beating him in the literal sense of the word. When the blows intensified, I began to suspect that slash the opponent whether wearing iron gloves, or inside the glove he put lead knuckles. I'm covered in blood, yelling wildly, beckoning for help, but no one, unfortunately, never responded to my call. In the skull of my head came a solid crack from where a red fountain spurted blood. Bald and diminutive referee with goat beard did not run in the paddock and was driving around in my blood, like ice skating at the arena and shouted, pitting us all against each other. Then, to my luck, the doctor asked to suspend the combat, to cover a crack in my skull something and bandage tape, and that skinny athlete (me) can die, and the carnage will stop earlier than scheduled, greatly disappointing the audience. Only then the referee decided to give me a break. After examining my wound and measure its width and length by using a hand caliper, and the doctors were so scared, pale face as the boy was attacked by a vicious dog. In their conclusion, the crack in my head was so dangerous that through the crack was visible to my brain, like a walnut kernel. Doctors quickly after consulting among themselves, decided to cover the crack of my skull antiquated way, and they put her back a towel. When the towel disappeared in my head, they've sealed the gap with tape. Then let me again return to the ring and fight to the end. But I could no longer fight, as I lost consciousness and fell. In-about-from, so please forgive me if I say silly words that you don't like, -finished his funny story Sultan, wearing his skullcap, which he kept in his hand. After hearing his story, Khurshida and her mother laughed heartily.

- A joke is a joke, but I do not intend to part with Khurshida, even in that light, if not ask about it me she said the tractor driver Sultan.

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Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

 

6 chapters of the short novel of Holder Volcano "Falling leaves"


(Translated by author)

Chapter 1

Spring fields


 

Spring, birds singing in the high poplars at field mill, where the white acacia. Recently, among the thorny branches of acacia could see a nest of magpies, and now it disappeared from sight among the leaves and flowering bunches of the tree. Magpies are very smart birds. They know that boys can't climb a tree, whose thorny branches, as its sharp spiny thorns may hurt to scratch his hands and feet and even to rip their harem pants. Acacia flowers have captured the soul like Souvenirs made from pieces of white porcelain. The pleasant smell of these bunches winds spread across the field where farmers work. Khurshida worked, knocking hoe on the rocky field. It was a girl of eighteen, fair-skinned, with a dense and gentle curly dark brown hair, with a slender figure and magnificent Breasts, with hazel eyes, and clear eyes. She is so beautiful smiling coral lips, showing white healthy and beautiful teeth, that a lot of guys in the village were crazy about her. But Khurshida did not pay attention to either one of them, as she felt for him the tender feelings called love. His indifference she has increased "oppression" on the lovers. She didn't even answer your love letters that boys wrote and passed her through her friends.

Khurshida"s father Abduljabbar very strict towards his daughter Khurshida and his difficult character and behavior more like a stepfather than her own father. He often drinks alcohol and satisfied with drunken fights. But Jabbar is a good specialist in the field of sheep shearing. He works as a mechanic on a cattle farm. Repairs on the farm milking machines, automatic drinking bowls, conveyors, cleaning barns, combines, forage shredders and so on.
Although Abduljabbar is not a religious fanatic, but he strictly prohibits Khurshida to go to parties dedicated to the birthday of her classmates, which was attended by boys. Abduljabbar swore that if his daughter Khurshida will disgrace their family, he will curse. So mother of Khurshida Raheela every day insisted that she did not play with fire and was cautious in communication with her classmates and other unknown guys, Raheela knew that the class of her daughter not all girls were friendly with Khurshida. That is, some girls are jealous of Khurshida and look at her with despise, because she's pretty and many guys were in love her but not with them.

With these thoughts in mind, Khurshida continued to work on the field, leveling soil for planting cotton. She loves to work in the fields alone, as nobody bothers to think about what she wants to think. Loneliness for her freedom was like the boundless sky. Sometimes Khurshida stops to straighten her back, listening to the distant of a sad voice of an alone hoopoe which comes from Willow Grove, where the wind wanders drunk. There, in the distance, a willow grove, a cotton field, she saw an alone tractor that silently glided over the field like a ship on the surface of a green sea of cotton. Khurshida thoughtfully watched agile low flying swallows. They flew over the fields, almost touching the ground, and its white belly and wings similar to bent black daggers with sharp blades. Then again she set to work, humming a sad song about love. And the sun slowly but surely rose to the tip of the sky. Khurshida worked on the field under the scorching sun and stopped work only when on the hill, the cook Tubo shouting the beginning to entice people for lunch.

-Choygaaaaaaaaa!- she cried, and her voice flew over the spring fields, like a bird freed from its chest.

Leaving the hoe on the edge of the field, Khurshida went to the side of the field mill. Approaching her, she smelled a delicate sweet smell fragrant acacia which bloomed near the field camp, which grew tall poplars and weeping willows. At this point, of the cultivator, which stopped near a field camp, jumped a young tractor driver of about twenty to twenty five, in a worn skullcap, tall, broad-shouldered, snub-nosed, with curly hair, with a mustache above fleshy lips, a peculiarity of the guy with a green scar on his left eyebrow. It gave him the appearance of harshness and masculinity. His appearance resembled a Roman Gladiator who fought with his bare hands with hungry tigers. Khurshida had not seen this tractor driver in these parts, but I just remembered his tractor, which she just watched from afar in the cotton field. While Khurshida was removed from the branches of the mulberry tree a small pouch in which was bread, sugar, welding, aluminum spoon, and a mug with a bowl, the tractor driver was already standing in the queue at the field tin samovar, where workers were poured theirself a Cup of boiling water. Taking her mug, Khurshida poured her the tea and also got in line. Seeing her, the guy turned to look and gave up his place. Not expecting such a gentleman, Khurshida thanked the young tractor driver and kindly smiled. After a few minutes the guy started to talk to her:
- Girl, let me tell you an amazing story while we stand in line. In short, yesterday I go past this tree - beauty!- from the white acacia flowers that you can’t stop looking at. The acacia blooming was like a young bride in a white wedding dress! I stopped involuntarily admiring the unusual beauty of this tree, looking at it with delight, like a farmer who came from a distant village with a bag on his shoulders, who first saw the city. Then there was gunfire. I thought, there was a terrorist shooting at me from the machine gun. I quickly lay down on the ground, so he couldn’t fire the whole clip at me. I layer down for a while and I look, and there's a singing magpie. Well, I felt ashamed about myself. Stood up, looked around, found my dirty skullcap, shook off the dust, jammed it on my head and went on. It’s a good thing nobody but me saw it.

After hearing the story of the tractor driver, everybody having lunch amicably laughed. Khurshida too, then came their turn. But, unfortunately, boiling water ceased to flow from the samovar's tap. It turned out that the cause was the fact that in the samovar boiling water level dropped below the level of the faucet, so it stopped showering. But the tractor driver found a way out: he asked Khurshida to bend the samovar and pour the boiling water into a mug, which he set up.

- Okay - agreed Khurshida and when the young tractor driver framed his mug to the tap of the samovar, Khurshida gently bent the samovar. But then disaster struck: Khurshida accidentally dropped the samovar, and he fell over, the young tractor driver scalded with boiling water. Tractor driver, making a face from a severe burn, started to jump from the pain, leaning on one leg, pulling air into the lungs.

- Vsss -ah-aaah! Vsss-ahh-ahhhh! Ooooohhhh!- he jumped from the stinging pain and spun like a dog chasing its tail.

Khurshida started to cry, not knowing what to do and how to calm the poor tractor driver. And workers who had already begun eating, all got up from their seats, feeling for the tractor driver who accidentally scalded with boiling water. Some laughed, especially when the timekeeper Abdelkasim cried, you take off your pants and jump right into the pond!

- Oh, excuse me, for God's sake, mister! This is all my fault!.. Badly burned?! Poor!.. I don't know Your name... what your name? - Said Khurshida, crying and circling around the guy in confusion.

A young tractor driver, holding his scalded thigh, stopped for a moment and with a grimace on his face said:

- Me? A-aaaaah- ahhhh... my name is Sultan!

- Oh, Mister Sultan, sorry! I didn't want to... - said Khurshida with tears in her eyes.

-Don't worry, girl, about anything... Aa-a-ahhh-ahhh... Ahh-ahh-ahh....My leg will get better before the wedding said tractor driver Sultan, smiling through the grimace on his face, continuing to jump on one leg.
Then he asked, distorting the face of unbearable pain:
-And You? What's your name?

- Me? Oh yeah, my name is Khurshida.

-Very nice... Vsss-aaaaa-aah... Yyyyh! That's a beautiful name, like you, honestly. You, Khurshida, do not pay attention to me. Better get yourself something to eat. Its lunch time right now... - said Sultan, continuing to rely on one leg to alleviate the pain.

- No, I will not eat. Well, how am I supposed to eat when you suffer because of me? - cried Khurshida.

Here the tractor driver Sultan stopped limping and said.

- Well, Khurshida, now quit crying! After all, people are looking at us. Already released the pain, don't you worry. I have everything in order. Don’t you believe my words? Well, then I have no choice but to prove to you that I'm healthy as an ox.
Here look and, humming a tune, he began to dance, stamping their tarpaulin boots, as a dancer with great experience.

Sultan danced, whirling like a whirlwind and singing cheerful music. Seeing this, everyone around laughed as if the viewers who are watching a funny presentation of a wandering artist. Khurshida was also smiling through her tears, rejoicing that the Sultan let go of the pain.

 

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132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of Writers

 

I believe the time will come



All people who living on this planet, Uzbek and Canadian, American and British, Japanese and French, Israel and Arab, German and Russian, and all the others are siblings and children of Adam and Eve! Therefore all of us, all people of Mother Earth, regardless of nationality, race or religion, should live in peace and harmony as children of one family!


I believe the time will come when humanity will realize this and remove all the borders, the maintenance of which cost billions and billions of dollars for the budget, dismantle all nuclear intercontinental ballistic missiles and put an end to senseless wars once and for all.


And then the world will have one neutral capital and just one parliament and one a president. All citizens of the planet will have the same identification cards. People will be able to move about the planet freely without any visas and without bureaucracy. They will stop wasting crazy money on arms and wars, as well as on strengthening borders, on intelligence and counterintelligence, on the nuclear cruise missiles and anti-missile defense.

Then, to everybody's surprise, terrorism and corruption will disappear from the face of Earth.


Canada,Toronto.

2012.

 

 

132221451_gorod_Brempton (202x216, 31Kb)

Holder Volcano

Member of the Uzbek Union of  Writers

 

Evening lights



I love your evening lights, Toronto,
and flying flocks of wild Canadian geese,
which will fly low over me,
waving it's wings and chorus,
along the corridors of your skyscrapers,
and will fly over Lake Ontario,
Silent, disappearing somewhere far away,
where I look from the shore in silence,
turning my hair into a straw
against the background of a blazing sunset.



26/03/2018.
7:21 pm.
Canada, Ontario.



Dance in the Rain



The night street is a deserted disco,
Everyone is gone, they are brutally tired.
The rain pours noisily, as if from a watering can,
Without violating the rules of nature.

The lights in the windows are still burning,
Thoughtfully and sadly.
Thunder blows up a projectile in the sky,
Flashing instantly.

The rain floods the street with tears,
There is fiery-hot dance.
The Twilight with Bound Eyes,
Dances proudly, like a Spaniard.



25/09/2017.
9:21 AM.
Canada, Ontario.

 

 

 
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