Between two mountains

Masud looked sourly at Khadija:

–But all this money is the money of the people you had deceived. How can I use it?

–Be clever. The chances like this are rare. –Khadija smoothed her hair finically.

Masud called Safarov in order to put an end to this talk. As soon as Safarov entered the room he saw the money in Masud’s hand and looked at Khadija.

Khadija:– Your friend is stupid. This is the money that I had told you about while you were taking me to isolated cell. See, what he did. I wonder why haven’t you told him anything. – She looked at Safarov reproachingly.

– 

Well, would I need him? I told this to chief and he was supposed to let us both of us to carry out the investigation.

Then Safarov muttered something which only he could hear in sotto voice:

– 

How could we know ahead, we considered him a dork. We didn’t think that he would find the money so quickly.

Khadija stared furiously at Safarov. Safarov looked hesitantly at Masud. But he could feel what Safarov wanted to say and that was why he waved his head.

Safarov:

–The chief won’t let you get off the hook.

Masud was silent.

– 

Why wouldn’t you agree? Hurry, we don’t have much time. The investigator may enter the room at any moment. The witnesses are also in the next room. Hurry up and come to a conclusion.

Masud moved towards the door. Safarov approached the window and said angrily: – Khadija, he is crazy, there is no use.

Khadija tilted forward her large breasts to Masud and said: – Well, take all the money yourself, don’t give me anything. But I feel sorry for the money. Don’t submit the money.

He moved fowards making Khadija to back up and headed towards the kitchen where the investigator was writing a report. But from behind he could clearly hear Khadija and Safarov to say simultaneously:

– Stupid…

***

Masud was happy. Jokes apart, but he succeeded to return their honestly earned monies to a number of honest people.

When captain Ibrahimzade was in high spirits he used to tell some hemistiches of Pobindrant Togor in Russian language. However him being in high spirits was a rare case.

One – is always one, and nothing but the one

But it takes two to create the beginning of the one

That day, towards evening he didn’t know where to go after work. Since he divorced his wife and longed to see his daughter, life lost its meaning. The tables of the tea-house near theatre “Nizami” were outside. Two men were drinking tea sitting under the tree seemed to come from a different reality. It seemed that he was not living in the same city with those guys indolently drinking their teas under the shade and playing backgammon.

He couldn’t find an empty place. He entered a nearly located used books shop. For a long time he didn’t visit bookshops. He had forgotten which book he had read recently. The atmosphere of the bookshops attracted him when he studied in Moscow. What luck that he entered the bookshop, he felt good, he felt young and hale like he was in student years. In fact, he still was “a student”. He always had some small change in his pocket, and always daydreamed. People like him are often called “eternal students.”

The salesman was looking at him attentively, as if he was watching him. He wondered which books he will encounter. Then his glance fell on a poetry book. – Oh, my God! This is an Indian poet – Ashok Vajpeyi. A photo of a young man wearing glasses was pictured at the cover of a pocketbook. Under the photo it was written:

“Ashok Vajpeyi was born in 1941. He is the head of the Academy of “Lalit Kala”, that is to say the Head of Academy of Fine Arts. He was awarded the name of the commander of the French art and literature. Ashok Vajpeyi is one of the talented representatives of the trend of “new poetry”. His poems have been translated into some Asian and European languages”.

He began again to dream about India. Taj-Mahal palace …And his first love.

His heart gave a leap. He looked outside through the window and saw an empty place in the tea-house. He bought Ashok Vajpeyi’s book of poems and rushed out of the shop.

– 

Come again! – The salesman said.

He opened a book on the random page and read the first poem he came across:

My words

Touched you

Like a light wind,

Like sun beams,

Without being felt.

The buds of the words

Faded before blossoming

Fine smelling of the faded words

Disappeared all of a sudden

On the branches of tree named you.

What a happy man was Ashok Vajpeyi. What a beautiful poem was he able to write, able to express his feelings… He never wrote even one hemistich during all his life. In fact, he never thought about writing a poem. But now, while sitting under a tree behind theatre “Nizami” and drinking tea, dreaming about India he regretted that he wasn’t able to write. He felt sorry for himself.

–I feel sorry for you, Masud Ibrahimzade…

***

He woke up to someone’s angrily slam closing the door. He jumped out of his bed and looked at the pendulum clock on the wall; it was a quarter to eleven. In a hurry he stretched out his hand to his clothes thrown on the chair. Hastily he wore his trousers; his heart was beating fast because of anxiety and waking up suddenly. His blood pressure has definitely risen. If only he wasn’t late for work…

Suddenly he noticed the honorary order on the bookshelf. He chewed his lips for a moment with sorrow, and then relaxed. Only now, while seeing the honorary order he remembered that since yesterday he is retired. The honorary order which he had put behind the glass on the bookshelf had been signed by the head of the Criminal Investigation Department. On behalf of the Ministry he was thanked for his thirty year activity. He sat on the bed, and threw the shirt he was going to wear on the sofa. But it appeared that his retiring wasn’t to Jannah’s content. While leaving she slammed the door so that he understood how angry she was.

Deep in his heart he justified Jannah. Is there any woman who agrees with her husband’s retiring and sitting at home all day long? Especially in this age… Fifty one year isn’t old age. He should not offend Jannah. If Jannah leaves him…well, what to do. It is right, Jannah is too plump. As a woman she isn’t so attractive. But it is better than to live alone, all by himself. He is not smart – now it isn’t the Soviet’s time, the borders are open. He had to take a holiday and go to India. He should have found Kaushari whom he could never forget, and tell her that he was going mad because of her. He would tell her that though many years passed, he still loved her. Maybe Kaushari wouldn’t remember him. Kaushari saw a lot of tourists every day. And all of them were from different countries. Would she remember Masud? If Jannah didn’t live with him he would collect his pension money and would somehow go to India. But he shouldn’t brake up with Jannah.

He would be reproached. They would tell that Zibeyde couldn’t bear because he didn’t earn enough money; she and his daughter Sabina lived half starved, half satisfied. That was why one day she collected all she could take with her and said: “Most of the men in your age are with position. They have much money. Do you think all of them have relatives at high posts supporting them? No, of course, not. Simply, they are not as stupid as you. All day long you are in the streets, in the cities. You search for a swindler. You never celebrated New Year at your home. Each year you are on duty in the office. You can’t demand your rights. Isn’t there anybody except you? I feel shy to tell anybody that my husband is a captain. When I see young boys become generals, how can I tell that my good-for-nothing husband isn’t even a major, not a general? ”

High pitched voice of Zibeyde tingled in his ears. He grabbed his head. Each time when Zibeyde’s shouting tingled in his ears his mind shook up. In fact, it was thus since the first day of their marriage. Since the morning of the wedding he began to hear that odd voice. Zibeyde spoke over telephone loudly too. How happy Masud became when Sabina was born. He had promised himself to bring her up as the happiest girl of the world. Because she is a girl. She is a guest at home, as one day she will leave for her husband’s house. She should not hear the word “no”. She should be brought up as a lady. She should get good education. As if Sabina was his breath. He thought that his small daughter was the best gift of the Great God to him. He had a lot of optimistic wishes and plans connected with Sabina. After he divorced with Zibeyde, though he was reproached he could find time to rush to Sabina’s school and see his daughter. Day after day he could feel how his daughter becomes colder and colder towards him. During the first days when Zibeyde left home taking Sabina with her, Masud missed Sabina too much. Every day he woke up crying bitterly saying “Sabina”. At court he told that he passes his house to his daughter. The home in which he was living now was the home his parents lived once. Approximately for a year he went to school to see his daughter. But one day he saw Zibeyde coming out from the chief’s office. As soon as Zibeyde left, the chief called him and informed: – Masud, your wife complained that you were going to kidnap your daughter. She says that you instigate your daughter against her mother. She says that if you go to see your daughter once more she will complain and try to get you to jail. Be careful. Your wife is too aggressive.

After that event captain Masud Ibrahimzade went to school to see his daughter Sabina but he could feel how his daughter grew cold to him. The last time when he went to school he saw how Sabina ran towards classroom seeing him. He turned back and wanted to leave the school, he saw Zibeyde at the gate. Even now he can remember the insulting words of Zibeyde. Since that time neither he could forget Zibeyde’s words nor his daughter Sabina. Masud who wanted to console himself somehow, would never forgive himself for losing Sabina. Zibeyde could be able to make Sabina lose interest to him. Even if he married Kaushari and they had five or six daughters or four sons Sabina was dearest to him. The wound in Masud’s heart would never be recovered. Now there was neither Sabina nor Zibeyde near him. Only Jannah was near him….

***

Jannah Agafovna Gubanova worked as a ticket-seller in a booking-office. They met when Jannah’s son killed some guy. He was a member of operational group. Jannah was taken to the department as a murderer’s mother. He felt sorry for a stout woman waiting in the corridor for her investigation for hours. He called her to his office and offered her a seat. Jannah was crestfallen and revealed the story of her life to him. When Masud brought up the subject of India he felt how attentively this large woman was listening to him, what only increased his sympathy to her. He didn’t allow other policemen to hurt somehow her feelings. After one month Jannah called him at his work place:– Masud, help me. My darned daughter deceived me and made me sell my house. She told me, let’s sell it and move to Rostov, and so I did and went to Rostov. Over there coupled with her husband drunkard they took my money and ditched me on the street, telling me to scram back to the place where I came from. Masud, the booking-office is also closed. Who would lend money to anyone nowadays. God forbid, should I beg on the streets?

This is Jannah’s life. What can she do? Then he brought Jannah to his house and told her that she can stay here for awhile. “I am also alone. You can tidy up the room. Later we would figure something out”. Since that time Jannah lives with him. Everyday she leaves in the morning and returns back in the evening. “Masud, I am seeking for a job”. “Let me go have a look if the booking-office is open”. “Masud, do you maybe have 3 manats? As soon as I find a job I will pay everything back…”

Oh well, at least from time to time Jannah cooked a borsch or something else. Plus, no one listened to his story of India as attentively as Jannah did. In fact, Masud started to like her initially because of this. Everyone has heard his story of India. Some, as their chief used to do, were telling him that they were fed up with his stories of India and if he doesn’t want to work, why doesn’t he move to his beloved India. His colleague who sat with him in the same room would leave the room immediately as Masud started talking about India saying: “I will come back in a second”. Zibeyde in these cases used to increase the volume of TV or would quickly start dialing her sisters. Sabina would smile and say: – “Father, you have said this already. Arsham is there, Taj- Mahal is there, there are the monuments of Buddha” – and would quickly leave to her room. At times some of his joker friends would ask him: “Masud, how are your relatives in India?” and burst out laughing after this – “Ha, ha, ha…”

But when a young employee who graduated from the Police Academy was appointed to the Criminal Investigation Department, Masud was happy. That young employee was attached to him, he had to teach him the secrets of work. The trainees whom he taught are either a major or a colonel. When the young employee was assigned to him in between teachings of subtleties of work Masud also used to tell him about India. Masud talked about India in such a way that young man the relative of some authoritative man started to believe that India is better than the places like New York, London, Dubai and Venice which he has visited numerous times. But after some time the employees who sat in the next room stared to ask the young boy whether the talks of Masud bored him or not: “We respect your father a lot…Masud has lost his mind…Only once in his life he traveled India, since that time…Well, don’t pay much attention. We know that you won’t stay here for long anyway… You will be either transferred to the Passport Registration department or become deputy of the head of the department. It is temporary inconvenience.” Maybe the reason of why the employees who were assigned to Masud would quickly rise to a higher pillar was that on the example of captain Ibrahimzade they would learned how not to work, and would advance to a higher rank earlier.

Among the foreign countries Masud visited only India. He had been in Russia too but he didn’t consider it to be a foreign country. He graduated from the faculty of law of the best higher education institution, Moscow State University named after Lomonosov. The year he finished the secondary school his father was the third secretary of the party committee of the district. When Masud was entering the University named after Lomonosov, the first secretary called his father and said: Well done! I congratulate you! “Sputnik” international tourism agency has issued a voucher for travel. Last year my son went to Yugoslavia. He liked it a lot. This year send your son. The voucher is to India.

His father used to phone him every day, watching his every step. He didn’t want him to go to India as a tourist, but the first secretary wouldn’t offer India trip just to anyone – “No, I am obliged to send my son to India if the first secretary offers. I can’t object to him. I would let him go” – he said.

Yes, if it wasn’t for the first secretary he wouldn’t be able to travel to India….

***

…In Delhi they were placed in a “Holiday Inn” hotel which was assigned to a group. In the morning they were drove to “Taj -Mahal” with the buses. All around was greener than green and bluer than blue…

The guide was a girl – as if she was carved out of an ivory. She was like a Sirius* which was described and glorified in the classic Indian poetry. Her eyes resembled the eyes of the Goddess Varuna*. She could speak Russian very fluently with sweet Indian pronounciation. When she was opening her lips and speaking the student of the Law Department of Moscow State University named after Lomonosov , Masud Inbrahimzade thought she was singing a song. As if Masud was dreaming. A fear was emerging in his heart to wake up from this dream. He desired to live in this dream for all his life. But each dream has its ending. He didn’t have choice – it is called a love from the first sight. He didn’t know the reason why he similized this girl to a Goddess Varuna. The girl also did not stay indifferent to this tall guy….Maybe invisible spirits of Jahan Shah and Mumtaz Mahal, that were soaring above the Taj -Mahal palace blessed this love. Right there, in front of this love temple the girl told him her name:

–Kaushari.

–Masud.

India…The paradise on Earth….The country of contrasts. ..The stream of people of Delhi…Rosy city of Jaypur. The magnificent castle of Amber. Fascinating Agra. Romantic love city with five beautiful lakes one better than the other, “the Venice of India”– Udaypur. The old city of Jaysalmer, with narrow streets and charming palaces. The palace of Hava Mahal. The magnificent banks of Gang…Travelling to all these places accompanied by the girl with whom he fell in love at first sight made all these beauty become engraved in his mind forever.

As it is said in the Indian Vedas the life is itself like a dream. When they were separating the girl was moved to tears. Masud told her: – Wait for me, wait for me in any case – his voice broke.

Kaushari:

– 

I am “A mountain between two worlds.”*

I shall wait for you. Take, this is my mother’s gift for you.

– 

There is no need for it.

– 

It is

Surabkhi -

the girl smiled.

It seemed to Masud that only the girl who love comes from the heart can smile like this and he believed that she would wait for him.

***

* Sirius- a tree from the family of bamboo that blossoms white

* Varuna- the Goddess of water

* “A mountain between two worlds”-According to the belief of Indians the world is surrounded with mountains. These mountains are like the borders between the Earth and the unseen world of beyond. When the sun is inside the chains of mountain it lightens one side of the mountains, when it exits it lightens the other side of the mountains.

* Surabkhi- a mythical figure of a cow which is able to fulfill all the wishes

It would have been better if he didn’t study in Moscow at all. If he studied in his own city everything would be different. His diligent studies and afterwards diligent working brought disaster upon him… He was always appointed to the most difficult tasks and was never appreciated. Since that time there were those who envied him.

Unlike other students he didn’t have expensive fur coat or a fashionable cloak. He always wore shoes made at factory named after Volodarskiy, shirts made at Baku sewing factory or clothes made at Moscow “Proletarka” factory. But whatever he wore suited him well. Everybody thought he was wearing world’s most expensive clothes.

His heart started beating faster. Maybe his blood pressure went too high. He moved towards the telephone. He didn’t have any other way out except to call first aid. His blood pressure had to be measured, or he would again be stuck between life and death as previous time when he took medicine without measuring his blood pressure. Falling of his blood pressure would again drive him nuts. Maybe he should wait for some time, maybe blood pressure would fall. Or the neighbors would see the ambulance and would worry what has happened to him. As soon as he retired on a pension his health got worse. What does this supposed to mean? As soon as any of my colleagues retires he either gets a heart attack or passes away – he touched wood superstitiously – God forbids! Oh Lord, please help me…

He looked at the telephone. Whom else to phone? Who else did he have…He has a sister, but he isn’t in good relations with her. Numerous times she complained to him that despite the fact he works in such a place like Ministry of Interior he wouldn’t assist to find an employment for neither one of her sons. “If you really wanted you would do it” – she reckoned. When he felt that he is unable to explain he stopped calling her. Neither did she. Is there anybody else? He himself used to phone her only on holidays. Is there anyone out of his friends? One guy, Alibala, who worked in a little national cuisine restaurant near the Ministry, used to phone him sometimes asking about his health. He used to invite him over and he would visit him, eat some national meals with 50 gram of vodka. Alibala used to tell him about Samara city where he spent his youth years, and he used to talk about India. For the last time Alibala called him saying that representatives from Taxes Department came over and want to close the place. He asked if Masud could give a phone call to someone from Taxes. But in return, Masud told him that they don’t listen to anyone. Who am I for them? Since that day Alibala didn’t call anymore. Probably the restaurant got closed or maybe he isn’t in the city, he has left to Samara.

His blood pressure will fall by the time ambulance comes. Maybe not to call at all? His neighbors who never greeted him would ask about his health, “What happened to you, mister Masud?”… As if a policeman can never get ill.

Recently he feels better when outdoors. He decided to try to go out to see what happens.

Masud leaned his right hand on the wall and went forward in the corridor. He opened the door and went towards the stairs. He remembered that he didn’t lock the door with the key. What is there in his room except broken and old furniture … He returned back, locked the door with the key and went to stairs, went out of the bloc, but thought that it was not interesting to walk in the yard where there was no place because of the cars. It would be better to go behind the building. At least there are some trees left. Staggering he went behind of the building. He reached the grove and stood for a moment. He tried to breathe deeply; his heart was beating faster than before. Here he had to lean on to the building in order not to fall, but they wouldn’t understand him if he did so. It is better to go towards the trees. He took some steps forward, but seeing trash cans lined up in a row in the grove, he felt upset. He had to lean against something; he had to hold on to something. Somehow he approached a tree. Though there was a smell coming from the trash cans he leaned against a tree and breathed the smell of acacia trees mixed with the smell of trash.

How nice the wind wasn’t blowing. As if recently Baku wind has also changed, as if it felt hatred to everybody… While driving in the bus the wind brings the dust of newly built buildings and passengers in the bus are covered with dust. As if the wind was saying to people why they hide themselves in the buildings built in disorder. Do you deceive me or yourselves? The wind didn’t let the persons like Masud to feel comfortable even in the buses. As if it asked them whether they considered themselves so smart. Maybe the drivers who stopped hectically even in narrow streets or the passengers who reached out their hands to stop the buses act rightly? May be you live your lives same way you get into buses? My God! The wind was speaking to him so roughly…

He had a fit of coughing; he sat down on the ground. When he felt a bit better he stood up, but he was scared. By the other side of trash cans two persons dressed in shreds and tatters were rummaging sweepings of food, empty bottles and put them into their sacs. His started coughing again. The two persons heard the sounds of his coughing stopped rummaging and looked at him. The older one nudged his friend and took steps back from the trash can. His friend understood nothing, and stopped rummaging, went back. At any case they were homeless. The homeless vagrants who lived in the account of sweepings of food they gathered from the trash cans. Their faces looked bluish. They even had traces resembling the color of moldy bread.

Suddenly the older vagrant said without moving:

– How do you do, mister Masud? Do you need anything? We are leaving now, we shan’t return here anymore.

He was surprised seeing that the old vagrant knew him. – Do you know me?

The old vagrant had a puzzled look, he combed his dirty hair with his hand, said: – Well, when we came here yesterday, – he showed the second floor, a woman shouted at us: – “What are you doing there? We can hardly sit at home because of the stink”. You were passing near by. She pointed at you and said: – “See, mister Masud is coming. He is a policeman. I will tell him and he will take you away”. Mister Masud, we left this place yesterday. Today we decided to come here for the last time until we find some new litter-boxes. Now we are leaving.