Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

Abbas was about to scurry out of the ditch like a frightened dog with its tail between its legs when Mergan grabbed his ankle, pulling him back.

“Sit down. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Just sit down!”

Abrau stared at his mother and said, “What’s wrong with you, then, woman! Don’t you understand anything? What are you trying to prove? Why are you causing a scene like this? This isn’t your land that you’re sitting on, in any case! Is this just because you’re stubborn?”

Mergan didn’t reply to her son.

Abrau slid into the ditch and then grabbed his brother’s hollow wrist.

“You get yourself out of this disgrace! You’ll do what I tell you! Go!”

Abbas surrendered and let himself be dragged in any direction his brother pulled him. But Mergan intervened, grabbing Abbas’ waist and pulling him back.

Abrau said, “Don’t be so stubborn, woman! I’ll put you under the dirt, right here!”

Mergan looked away from her son, as if she didn’t want to see him. She quietly put her head on her knees.

Ali Genav approached them.

“Why are you rolling in the dirt like that, you foolish woman! What’s come over you? Why is it nothing seems to lead you back to the straight-and-narrow path? This was wild land. It’s not something you inherited from your mama! That man’s gone and registered it and has a government official with him. So why are you causing a scene …?”

“You come down here. Come here!”

Ali Genav went into the ditch. Perhaps Mergan wanted to have a private word with him? Instead, Mergan spit at his face and said, “Now go, you!”

Ali Genav leapt out of the ditch, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a length of chain, as if to beat her with it. But Morad moved quickly and wrapped his arms around Ali Genav’s belly, holding him tightly. Ali Genav tried to push forward, swearing. But Morad held his ground. Eventually, Ali Genav managed to pull himself free from Morad’s grip, turning to face him.

“What’s with you?! You want to lock horns with me, pip-squeak? Itching for a fight?”

Morad ripped his jacked off and said, “You sorry bastard. You think you can fight me? Think you can raise a finger against me? I’ll shit on your pimping daddy’s head! Go on! Take a swing!”

Before Ali Genav could swing his chain over his head, Morad had tucked in his head and thrown himself at his body. He forced one shoulder beneath Ali Genav’s body and began to lift him up and suddenly with all his might threw him to the ground. He grabbed the chain from his opponent’s hand, and — as if he was putting a muzzle on a horse — he pushed the chain across Ali Genav’s mouth.

“You want to talk fancy with me, you fool?”

Ali Genav couldn’t reply in kind. He was beating his legs and arms against the ground and foaming at the mouth. The village men and the officials ran over and pulled Morad off of Ali Genav’s chest. With a bloody mouth, Ali Genav leapt up, picked up his hat from the ground, and took up a fighting stance. Mirza Hassan grabbed him by the arms and pulled him aside. The fight had to be contained. He passed Ali Genav over to the elders of the village and came over to Mergan.

“See what a mess you’ve started, Mergan?!”

Mergan didn’t reply.

Abrau grabbed Morad by the collar and said, “You go get Abbas out of there! I’m not my father’s son if I won’t bury that woman under dirt today myself. But you get that innocent fool out of there!”

Then he ran to the tractor, jumping in the driver’s seat and starting up the motor.

Mirza Hassan ran over to him, shouting, “Don’t do anything foolish, son! We don’t want blood to flow. If you do anything, only scare her!”

Abrau didn’t reply. He took the tractor’s shovel control in one hand and pressed on the gas pedal. The tractor stormed over toward Mergan. The officials were circling Mirza Hassan, and the crowd moved forward. Morad had pulled Abbas out of the ditch. Mergan had let go of Abbas but was remaining seated inside the ditch. Abrau drove the tractor forward. Steel has no conscience! It roared and moved ahead. The tractor’s shovel rested on the edge of the ditch. His mother remained there seated: her face, leather; her eyes, coals; her lips, stone.

Abrau shouted from where he was sitting.

“Get up or I won’t control myself, mother! I don’t want to hurt you, but you’ll be torn up under the teeth of this shovel!”

She remained silent. It was too late for talking.

Abrau threw himself down, and by the edge of the ditch, on his belly, he nearly began to plead.

“Get up, mother. Get up! Don’t let me go insane. I’ll kill you, I swear!”

She still didn’t respond. Abrau let forth a bestial cry and threw dirt at her eyes.

“Just stare at me! Just stare! Why did you ever give birth to me!”

Mergan just blinked.

Abrau jumped back onto the tractor, and the machine began to roar again. It began to back up, and he waited for a moment. Then he pressed on the accelerator. It advanced. It was as if the teeth of a giant began to press into the dirt on the edge of the ditch. The crowd began to shout, screaming and swearing. But the hubbub was lost in the roar of the engine. They waved their hands; the old men waved their cloak ends. But what could they do? Mother and son were of the same cloth. Mergan was the mother of this boy, and Abrau was the son of this same mother. But at the last moment, Mirza Hassan managed to climb onto the tractor and switched the ignition off.

Abrau, looking injured, sour, and unsettled, leapt off the machine and into the ditch and threw himself onto his mother.

Had Mergan turned to stone? She didn’t even open her mouth to swear at him. Abrau dragged his mother’s body from the ditch and pulled her over to the tractor. He struggled to tie her onto the tractor with a rope. He sat cruelly in the driver’s seat, and again he started up the metal beast.

The deed was done. The crowd stood seeing what the outcome of the reunification of God’s Land meant. What was the tractor doing?! What was Abrau doing? Was the cruelty acceptable? Mirza Hassan lit a cigarette for himself and then untied Mergan from the body of the tractor.

Mergan had collapsed in a heap. Abbas had as well. Mergan took Abbas’ hand — they held each others’ hands. Morad followed the two of them. The mother and son were unified. Mergan had aged. She didn’t walk as she used to; now she matched Abbas’ broken steps. They walked like two ants. Morad walked to the same rhythm, quietly and calmly. It was as if the earth had been emptied and only these three people were walking on its tired back.

What color was the sky? And the earth? The earth was so strangely silent! Was there so much as a bird in the fields? No … the earth was empty, the sky was empty, everything empty. But Mergan faced down whatever they had put upon her.

“Don’t worry, my son. Don’t worry. You’ll live a long life yet!”

At the cusp of dusk, Mergan and Abbas reached home.

Morad stood outside the door. Then he sat against the wall and held his head in his hands. How many years had he aged today? He felt as if he had become heavy, like a mountain. He didn’t want to speak a word to anyone. He didn’t know anything; he just didn’t know anymore. He felt dizzy and at a loss for words. He didn’t feel like leaving. He didn’t feel like standing. He didn’t feel like sitting. Everything seemed meaningless. How meaningless were these new clothes on his body! The only thing he felt like doing, that his heart would want to do, was to take off the clothes. But why now? His questions remained unanswered. He rose and went into the stable, emerging only wearing his undershirt and underwear. He entered the house and tossed the new clothes onto a pile of blankets and sat in a corner.