Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

The men held on with the ropes wrapped around their waists, digging their feet into the earth. Their bodies leaned back; their feet were set forward. They were like narrow trees bending in wind. The two master well diggers were standing at the edge of the well and were looking over the edge into the well.

The rope was also twisted around Mergan’s body.

“Its neck is caught against a pole in the well. Right in the middle of the rod!”

“What shall we do? What can we do? Our hands and waists are being cut through!”

“We have no choice! Pull. We have to keep pulling. We can break its neck and then bring it out. Pull!”

“Pull! With God’s help!”

They pulled with all of the strength they could conjure from their bodies. But the animal was still stuck.

“Pull!”

“No! Don’t pull!”

Two of the rope strands went slack and tore. Two of the groups fell back onto each other. The body slipped down and six groups of men were pulled forward with their strands of rope.

The well diggers shouted.

“Slowly, slowly, pull on the ropes! Slowly!”

“Slowly, now let the ropes go loose! Slowly!”

The body suddenly tumbled back down as the wall of the well collapsed onto itself, and six strands of rope, like six dragons, leaped into the mouth of the well.

“Oh no! Worse! The spring in the well will be blocked by all the dirt!”

A billow of dust rose from the mouth of the well.

“Oh no! Much worse!”

Covered in dust and sweat, the men stood there.

“Now what do we do?”

The well-diggers sat down.

“We need tools, implements. And better rope.”

“Ah! I have an idea!”

“Okay. What is it? Tell us!”

“Let’s cut the animal into pieces and bring them up one at a time!”

“That’s a great idea, Khodadad. You always know what to do, old shepherd!”

“Let’s get to work! Who thinks they’re up to it?”

The shepherd and the well-digger volunteered.

“Bring the well wheel! Sharpen your dagger, Khodadad!”

“Who’s going to explain this to the Sardar!”

“I’ll do it!”

“We’ll all do it!”

“All that’s left for him is the price of its hide!”

They brought the well wheel to lower down the men. Khodadad the shepherd and Mohammad Kazem the well digger took off their boots. Khodadad thrust his dagger into his waistband and went toward Salar Abdullah and the Kadkhoda.

“I’m taking my life in my own hands by going to the bottom of this well! I’m expecting to be paid. One hundred tomans !”

It was no longer necessary to have everyone there at once. Those who had a role to play and those who had a share in the waters of the canals stayed. The others began wandering back to Zaminej.

But no, they failed to pull the camel from the well whole. Ali Genav went to collect the grazing camels for his cousin the Sardar. Mergan was also worried by the thought that the camels would be lost.

“It’s a shame, those camels! They shouldn’t be lost in this way!”

* * *

The moon had risen by the time Mergan returned home.

Only Abbas was still awake. He was sitting and looking up into the night. The others, Molla Aman and Abrau, each had put something under his head and fallen asleep.

Mergan was exhausted, so she should have gone to sleep as well. But how could sleep come to Mergan’s worried eyes? Without sitting down, she began to pack whatever possessions she had. Possessions … one might just say a few shirts and a pair of leggings and a shroud.

Those people who have roots in the old ways generally accept that at the first opportunity, whenever there’s enough to feed oneself for a bit, one should then think of obtaining a death shroud. A couple of lengths of cloth; it’s not expensive to procure one. And once in her life, Mergan had found herself with such an opportunity. A shroud, the only piece of clothing that a person will wear only once. She packed the shroud separately in a trunk, setting it aside. She also wrapped some bread, sugar, and tea in a separate package. She collected some bits and pieces to leave for Abbas and put the trunk with the shroud on top of them. Then she went over to the bag of flour; there was less than one man of flour left. She also put that beside the bits and pieces for Abbas. Only one thing remained, one task she still had to do. She looked at her brother and her son. They were both asleep. She tiptoed outside. Abbas was still awake, and the light of his cigarette shone in the darkness. Ignoring him, she went into the alley.

In the late-night alleys of Zaminej, it’s impossible to even see a bat flying. The darkness can be deep, the silence profound. But the uneven ground was familiar to Mergan’s bare feet. Walking from alley to alley, from hovel to hovel, she quickly reached the outskirts of the village. The fields and the night filled her lungs, both immense and yet compressed. She paused. Not from fear, but from doubt. She turned and walked back toward the village and went straight to Sanam’s house. The door was shut and everyone was asleep. She knocked on the door. Morad, sleepy and confused, opened the door.

“Eh? What’s happened, Auntie Mergan?”

“Bring your shovel and bag and come with me. I’ll explain.”

He took his shovel and bag from the edge of the wall and latched the door behind himself quietly. The two were in the alley together. Mergan walked in silence, and Morad couldn’t bring himself to ask about what they were doing. He walked behind her quietly as she traversed the various winding alleys to the outskirts of the village. She stopped there and turned to face Morad, who stood beside her. She asked, “You’re still coming along with us?”

“I told you myself! I’m coming. Why would you think otherwise? I’m not meant to stay here. So what if I leave a month earlier than I’d planned? I was going to go in one direction; now I’m going in another! What difference does it make?”

“Good, okay … Now listen up, then! I’ve buried something out here somewhere, and I have to dig it out. Just follow me!”

Mergan walked ahead.

“I would trust Abrau as well, but I’d be afraid if someone else caught wind of it. But I feel I can rely on you. I think of you as one of my own sons. Come this way!”

Morad walked through the empty field behind Mergan. He asked, “How are you going to find anything in this darkness?”

“I’ll find it. I’ll find it. Just come! I just hid my possessions from these thieves. But I’ll find it. Come this way.”

Mergan suddenly turned around.

“No one noticed us, did they?”

Morad said, “At this time of night, everyone’s asleep dreaming of kings and princes. Who has the heart to go out walking around in the darkness?!”

Mergan froze in her place.

“This is it! It must be right here! Start digging here. I’m sure it must be here.”

Morad brought the shovel down from his shoulder and busied himself with digging the dirt. Mergan knelt on the ground and dug with her hands as well. But it was in vain. Mergan had chosen the wrong spot.

Morad asked, “Are you certain this is the right place?”

“I’m sure; I’m certain. I did the calculations.”

“Let’s take a minute so you can remember. What was the marker of the spot?”

“A rock! A large rock. I’m sure, I remember. It was a large rock!”

“But there was no rock here!”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing my mind!”

Mergan sat up and grasped at her knees with her hands, like a mother wolf who’s gone to give birth in the desert night.

What if she couldn’t find what she’d buried?

She rose and took Morad’s hands in her own and said plaintively, “Morad my dear, you have to find it! Find it for me … My heart will break if you don’t! Morad dear, please!”