Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

Salar Abdullah sat silently, dumbstruck, then asked, “So? What about my payment, then? Soluch took my wheat, which you’ve all eaten, and what about me? Am I guilty that I have to suffer at the hands of his wife and children this winter?”

Mergan said, “I didn’t eat bread from your wheat, his children did. Go tear open their bellies if you want and take back your wheat.”

Salar Abdullah was losing his patience. His anger flared as he said, “What are you saying, woman?! You think you’re speaking to a fool? Do you think I’m joking with you that you would answer me in this way? I’ve sold my wheat, and now I want the payment in money or in property. Just yesterday Soluch swore an oath.”

“So go find him! He’s not flown away to the heavens. He’s probably gone off hiding somewhere in these ruins.”

“So you’re not willing to give me the copper?”

“I don’t have any to give anyone.”

Salar Abdullah leaned over and brought his face close to Mergan.

“Look at me. Why are you looking at the backs of your hands? Open your ears! I want the copper.”

Mergan removed her hands from the bowl and shook them.

“So if you were to demand my children’s heads, I would have to give them to you?”

“I’m not asking for your children. I am owed these.”

“So collect what you’re owed from the one who you did business with. What do I know about all of this? Did I buy the wheat from you?”

“Your husband did. Didn’t that same son of yours pick up the canvas bag and bring the wheat to your house? Wasn’t it you, Abbas? Didn’t you bring it?”

Abbas looked at his mother. Mergan said, “He’s not of age yet. When he’s old enough, he’ll take the winds of the desert that he’s inherited from his father and sell them to pay off what’s due you!”

Salar Abdullah suddenly leapt forward and furiously shouted, “So all you know is how to talk high and mighty? You’re quite a sweet-talking, rag-wearing one; you think you’re equal to me and that I have to go head-to-head in playing games with you? What’s wrong with you? You think I’ll let someone get away with taking what’s mine? If I have to tear it from the belly of a wolf, I’ll get what’s rightfully mine. So I’m not worried about you!”

“Well fine, kill me if you can. I’m tired of this life already.”

“To hell with your feeling tired of life. I’m just here for what’s mine.”

Mergan’s heart was racing, and the blood was rushing through her hands and feet. She leapt up and screamed, “Get up and get out of here, you bastard! What a song and dance you’ve put on for me, you hyena! I have no food for my own children, and here you are trying to drag the last few pieces of copper I own away from me. You think you’re up against a weakling?”

Salar Abdullah, who had also jumped to his feet, said, “I should leave? Fine, I’m going. But I’m taking the five measures of copper that are owed me before I leave this house.”

He rushed into the pantry of the house and emerged a moment later carrying a tray, a vase, a bathing pitcher, and a pot. Mergan threw herself onto him, grabbed his hands, and cried out, “Put them down. Put them down, you merciless bastard!”

Salar Abdullah reached out and also took a skillet set beside the doorjamb. Mergan grabbed onto his arms and hung on.

“Put them down, you bastard … Leave them!”

With a single motion, Salar Abdullah threw Mergan to one side. Mergan rebounded and shouted, “Children! Abbas, Abrau, my girl, block the door. Don’t let him take what’s yours. Get him!”

Abrau had just returned with the short-handled sickle, and he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Abbas in the doorway. Salar Abdullah rushed the door with his hands full of the items. Mergan leapt onto him from behind, tore his scarf from his head, and threw it to the edge of the room. She grabbed the cloth of his robe, and he had to let go and drop the pot, vase, and pitcher to try to disentangle himself from her. Hajer quickly grabbed the copper pieces and hid them in a chest. Mergan slid down to Salar Abdullah’s feet and grabbed him between the legs. Shouting, he kept trying to free himself, but Mergan would not let go. She dragged on him, pulling him down. Salar Abdullah’s wailing filled the air. Then he kneed Mergan in the shoulder violently, sending her tumbling.

Salar Abdullah had lost any sense of restraint and unleashed a stream of whatever insults came to his lips. The boys rushed in, Abrau with the sickle and Abbas with a cord of rope. Mergan, short of breath from the pain in her shoulder, dragged herself back to the center of the room, grabbed Salar Abdullah’s leg, and sank her teeth into his heel. He screamed and kicked Mergan away. Reaching the door, Salar Abdullah was entangled with three people at once, swearing and swinging. Abbas and Abrau didn’t back down either, insulting his wife, children, father, and mother in return. He finally freed himself of Mergan and her sons and rushed back toward the chest, opened the door, and threw the copper pieces out. Abbas and Abrau threw their bodies on the copper. Salar Abdullah flayed at them, trying in vain to pull them off. Mergan dashed to the door shouting, “Thief, help! Thief … Help me! In broad daylight, he’s emptying my home!”

Somehow she rushed to the stable and grabbed Soluch’s shovel and was back inside the house in seconds, like the wind. She raised the shovel and with wild eyes and foam at her lips said, “Salar Abdullah … your life is in your hands. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you and one of these children as well. I’ll kill you with God’s blessing. I’m done with living! Done. Do you hear me, man?”

Under Mergan’s shovel, Salar Abdullah slid up against the wall and, with wide eyes, stared at her. Mergan’s eyes were also tinged with dread. Kill him? Could she really kill him? Salar Abdullah, with an uncovered head, raised himself from the ground and threw himself out the door of the house, where, met by the frightened faces of the neighbors, he broke his silence. “That woman … that bitch … she’s crazy! She tried to kill me! Ay … Ay … Honest to God, she wanted to kill me! I swear … I swear on the Prophet, she wanted to kill me! Kadkhoda … Norouz … She wanted to kill me. She almost smashed my head in with a shovel!”

The neighbors gathered one by one in the alley and joined the arena. Ali Genav took the role of the mediator. Sanam’s son, Murad, went back to calm Mergan. In the midst of this, Kadkhoda Norouz arrived. With him were Mirza Hassan, Zabihollah, and Karbalai Doshanbeh, who entered from the alleyway. But Zabihollah hadn’t realized that a woman had fought with his cousin. So, before Zabihollah could make a move, Kadkhoda Norouz passed by the side of Salar Abdullah and entered the room. Mergan was standing with the shovel in her hands, her eyes wide open. The boys, Abbas and Abrau, were on either side, leaning against the walls. Hajer was shaking. The Kadkhoda took the shovel from Mergan’s hands and laid a backhanded slap against her face.

“Troublemaker! Stirring up things?”

He left the room, tossed the shovel to one side, and handed Salar Abdullah his headscarf. Then he shouted at the crowd, “So what are you all standing here for? Is there something to see here?”

Salar Abdullah tied the scarf around his head. Agha Malak’s son-in-law grabbed him under the arms, and along with the others — Zabihollah, Karbalai Doshanbeh, and Kadkhoda Norouz — he left.

Mergan fell to her knees in the doorway of the house. She covered her face with her hands and, with a wail, let go of a cry that had been locked away inside of her heart until that moment.

The moist earth was frozen beneath the boys’ feet. The icy soil sent painful jabs through their bare soles, as if they were walking on crushed glass. For all their effort, they had little to show for it. The sun was already climbing into the sky but Abrau and Abbas had gathered less than a bushel of corkwood each. The roots of the plants had frozen in the soil, and the tendrils of the roots were thoroughly entwined in the earth, making it as if the plants were rooted in stone. Pulling out each root required more effort than it otherwise should have, straining and hurting their backs and shoulders. At times, it felt as if a snake had twisted itself around Abrau’s waist. His face was contorted — his eyes squinted, lines emerged in the corners of his eyes, and his eyelashes would press together — expressing his pain in a thousand different signs. But Abrau couldn’t dare to let even a quiet cry escape through his lips. This was because Abbas was heartless, always competing at work. Because of this, he would goad Abrau constantly and incessantly. He did so both for the excuse of driving him on as well as to ensure that Abrau didn’t manage to sneak off with a few of the roots that Abbas had himself collected and set aside.