Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

The boy’s sack falls from Mergan’s hand to the ground. Mergan comes closer. No! How can one believe it? An old man stands before her. She comes closer. Her eyes are like the outlines of two dry wells. In the depths of her eyes, two old vipers are coiled. They are lost. The sun of hell shines over the fields and into Mergan’s eyes. Her gaze is lost in the fields. She puts her hand upon Abbas’ hand. His hand is in his mother’s hand. Mergan begins to walk; everyone begins to walk. The Sardar remains with the body of his camel. They walk slowly. An old man is holding Mergan’s hand. They are silent. Silence, sun, the sun of hell fire rains on the fields. Where is water?

Karbalai Doshanbeh was used to sitting with his back to the wall. He would sit with his legs wide apart, the palms of his feet flat on the ground, and his elbows on his bony knees and he would finger his worry beads.

The cup of tea sitting before him had grown cold, and he was staring quietly into space. His silence was as heavy as a millstone. He was like a useless millstone leaning against a wall. Old and out of use, heavy and silent. He had plenty of reasons for making an appearance at Mergan’s house, such as to ask about Abbas’ health or to offer congratulations on Hajer’s upcoming marriage. But more effective than these was the excuse of Molla Aman’s presence in Zaminej village: this was Molla Aman, his old friend and the former herder of his camels. However, the actual motivation for his visit was doubtless the debt that Molla Aman owed to Karbalai Doshanbeh. It was time for Molla Aman to at least settle the interest that had accumulated on his loan so far. His host Mergan could choose to accept any of the possible excuses for Karbalai Doshanbeh’s visit. The generous interpretation of his visit was the idea that he had come to see his old friend and companion Molla Aman, and was enjoying a cup of tea celebrating the marriage of this old friend’s niece. The more jaundiced interpretation was the notion that Karabalai Doshanbeh suspected Molla Aman of trying to cheat him out of his dues and that he had shown up right then and there to begin such a row that the good news of the wedding would be quickly forgotten by all in the village. Mergan knew that both of these possibilities simply meant that he had at his disposal the ability to present different excuses, giving him the right to show up uninvited to her house in the morning over the next day or two: he could slide in and sit in a corner quietly, drinking tea, and, if possible, eating the bread and stew offered him, occasionally tossing out a suggestion or comment invariably tinged, as they always were, with sarcasm or a veiled insult. This was his nature and in fact the story of his life, and the residents of Zaminej had come to just recognize it as the way he was.

Since Molla Aman was in a tight spot, he had no choice but to act obsequious and deferential to Karbalai Doshanbeh. He had to let pass most of the more insulting insinuations and had to find a way of coming to terms with his old friend. At heart, he simply wanted to find a way to bear the next two days, since he didn’t have much keeping him in Zaminej. He was only there to give Hajer’s hand to Ali Genav before taking his donkey’s tether and heading back out on his way. As for Abbas, it was clear that there was nothing to be done for him.

Abbas sat in a dark corner, quietly staring at the floor, as if in shock. No one bothered him, and he interacted with no one. He was silent and sullen, with lips shut and eyes open. Eyes that had not yet seen sleep. Yet no remedies were offered him, no prayers said for him.

“Just wait a few days. A few days have to pass first.”

This had been Karbalai Doshanbeh’s suggestion. Ali Genav had nodded his head to this. Molla Aman had to respond in turn, and said, “What’s done is done. Now things just have to return to normal. Ah … life is full of these twists and turns!”

Hajer was hiding herself somewhere. It seemed the event that had befallen her brother was not an auspicious sign for her.

Abbas’ sudden aging was interpreted most simply and persuasively by Ali Genav.

“I myself spoke to a dervish in front of Shazdeh’s caravanserai that somewhere in the Mount Shahjahan region the same thing happened to another boy, but that after a few days he’d returned to normal. These worries are just a stage; they will pass. You can’t get wrapped up in them. Eh, Uncle? What do you think about this?”

Molla Aman looked over at Karbalai Doshanbeh.

“Karbalai Doshanbeh is much more worldly than I!”

The response came, “Just wait a few days. A few days have to pass first.”

Molla Aman had agreed earlier, and then agreed again.

“Yes, well … What else can we do? It’s just the way of the world!”

But Mergan was on fire, burning like incense. It was as if smoke was pouring from her eyes.

“Auntie … Auntie …”

Ali Genav had begun calling Mergan “Auntie.” Mergan walked out of the room and joined him where he had drawn himself against the outside wall.

“Everything is ready now. I’ve cleaned the house as well. It’s ready.”

Mergan replied, “Very well. Come tonight and take your wife’s hand in yours and you can take her to your home. What else should I tell you?”

Ali Genav asked, “Is everything set with her clothes, bedding, shoes …?”

“They’ll be ready.”

“Fine, good. So I’ll go and make the rounds, now. And listen, I’ve made arrangements for dinner to be ready there tonight. You come and bring Uncle Molla Aman with yourself. Afterward, you can bring back a couple of bowls of meat for Abbas and Abrau as well. Okay?”

“Fine. Okay.”

Ali Genav left and Mergan returned to the house. Karbalai Doshanbeh and Molla Aman were still sitting against the wall. Mergan passed by the stove, under Karbalai Doshanbeh’s gaze, and entered the pantry.

“I need to have a word with Hajer. I need to tell her a few things!”

Karbalai Doshanbeh’s gaze followed Mergan and then crossed over to Molla Aman, whose head was lowered. Karbalai half-smiled as he said, “So go make Mergan a bride! Why don’t you marry her off?”

Molla Aman raised his head and was about to open his mouth when Karbalai Doshanbeh spoke again. “I wish I would die! I smashed my own wife like she was made of crystal! My neck could break from all of the gossip they told about me! I wish people’s tongues would fall out!”

Molla Aman said, “Don’t start all over, Karbalai. What’s happened, has happened.”

Karbalai Doshanbeh said, “The hurt is still there. She was like fine crystal, that woman. But the gossip! She gave birth in the seventh month, and the gossip began. Disrespectful mob! They kept saying, ‘That girl was pregnant before she entered her husband’s home’!”

“The innocent girl! After all, would I know better, or them? But I smashed my beautiful crystal with my own hands. I wish my neck would have been broken instead! After that, even water was too bitter for me to drink. I beat that girl like she was a beast, and kicked her out. In the cold of winter, with the babe in her arms. And I don’t know where she ended up! How could a seven-day-old baby survive the cold winter outside? The poor child! It’s all the fault of Abdullah’s mother, my first wife. She was the one who began all the gossip. Evil woman! She didn’t want to see a shepherd’s daughter on God’s Land. And if I’d kept her at home, she might have done her in herself. In any case, she wanted me to be without a second wife. Although I can say I also was able to make the life of Abdullah’s mother hell. From that day on, I ended any real marital relationship between us. Absolutely! And it’s been twenty years. That’s what she gets for her gossiping. But … but, now the old woman’s beginning to win the fight. She’s kicked me out of my own house and left me in the old storage shed. Well, her son’s now become a man for himself. Salar Abdullah! He provides for her. What does she need me for? She refuses to even wash my laundry. She won’t even offer me a glass of water to wet my bread in. If I were in the throes of death, she wouldn’t so much as open the door for me! It’s as if we’re not husband and wife, as if we never were! But I understand … She’s getting her revenge. But … but, I wish my own neck had been broken rather than my having made my beautiful crystal of a wife homeless as I did. I broke her myself.”