An Unforgotten Dream

In a small village lived two little brothers, Idil and Imir. Alongside the brothers were their elderly grandfather, a fat cow, and a constantly meowing kitten. Both brothers were very mischievous children. While their grandfather worked in the fields, they would jump and play around him, and the old man, watching their joy, would smile to himself.

Days passed, and for twelve months of the year, the grandfather never rested. Every autumn, he would take Idil and Imir to the city and buy them new clothes and toys. The children were always thrilled to go to the city. Surrounded by forests, the village was so isolated that they would wait an entire year for that one trip to town. They would pester their grandfather constantly:

“Grandpa, when will autumn come? Why doesn’t autumn come twice a year?”

They never let the old man rest with such questions.

The village was located in the farthest corner of the country, surrounded by forests and valleys, and it had fallen far behind in terms of development. It was as if this place had been left behind by time, frozen and forgotten. Things that were invented long ago in the city would only reach their village a year or two later. Life itself – and the government too – seemed to have forgotten this place. The people lived and died in their own way, unnoticed by the world.

Whenever Idil and Imir went to the city, it felt as if they had entered an entirely different world.

Seasons changed, and finally, autumn came. The old grandfather joined the other villagers, and together with Idil and Imir, they set out for the city. After eight days of travel, they arrived in the city just in time for lunch. As they reached the central school, the bell began to ring.

“Jingle-jingle”

Like a dam bursting through the river, the children poured into the schoolyard.

Idil and Imir stood in awe, watching the children – clean, neat, and dressed identically. Their old grandfather tugged at their sleeves.

“Come on, let’s not fall behind. We still have a lot to buy.”

“Grandpa, what is that?”

As the children followed their grandfather, they couldn’t take their eyes off their peers. Their games seemed completely different, fascinating. Had they ever seen such things before?

The grandfather and the boys wandered around the market. They bought everything they needed. But neither Idil nor Imir could forget the children in matching uniforms.

The villagers began preparing for the journey back home. The boys longed to pass by that same place again, to see those children one more time, but the guide led them down a completely different street.

At last, everyone returned home, riding carts full of gifts and purchases, satisfied. Yet this time, Idil and Imir were not jumping for joy as they usually did.

“Grandpa,” Idil nudged the old man, “what was that place, where the children were?”

The grandfather’s expression darkened. His already wrinkled face tightened further in thought.

“That… that’s a school.”

“A school?!”

“Yes.”

“What do they do there?”

“They study.”

“What is studying?”

“Studying is…” the old man’s face scrunched even more, “…where they write, draw, and do things like that.”

Others joined in the conversation between the old man and the boys. Everyone started talking about things they had never seen with their own eyes.

“They say they beat children in school!”

“No way…”

Sitting on the edge of the cart was a small-framed young man whose face was covered with large blotches. He started an intriguing conversation.

“Could it really be that they beat them?!”

“Yes, with a long stick, they say,” someone replied.

Idil was intrigued by this.

“Does everyone go to school?” he asked.

“Everyone does,” the same young man answered.

“Then why don’t we go? We’re people too, aren’t we?”

“Because we don’t have a school,” said a fat man with a large belly, laughing as if he had just told the funniest joke. But when he saw that no one else was laughing, he gave a little cough and fell silent.

The cart rolled along slowly. Stars twinkled above. Just like their owners, the horses pulling the cart walked with their heads lowered. Everyone was quiet, walking with their heads down. Even Idil and Imir could feel deep inside that it wasn’t the right moment to ask any more questions.

The cart driver finally lost his patience and flicked his whip, urging the horses forward.

“Chuv! Move, you creatures, chuv!”

“Where are the spirited young men of this golden valley?
Where are the beautiful maidens of these homes…?”

He began to sing the familiar song at the top of his voice. The others joined in chorus. It was such a relief – everyone had secretly longed to escape the heavy burden of those difficult questions. As if released from a weight pressing down on their shoulders, their faces lit up. Cheerfully, they continued on their way. There was bread, there was water – the days passed. Who really needed school anyway?

Only Idil, Imir, and the old grandfather did not smile. His stern face grew darker still. A sorrowful look settled in his eyes.

Finally, they arrived home. Idil and Imir fell asleep. But the old grandfather did not sleep. Early in the morning, the children woke to a stir of noise. Something was happening.

Their grandfather was gathering things into a sack. From outside came the voice of the cart driver:

“Hey, old man! Why are you bothering me at the crack of dawn? I haven’t even recovered from yesterday’s exhaustion.”

“Take me to the city.”

“To the city? But we just came back yesterday.”

Just then, the fat man from yesterday entered, holding a small bag. He handed it to the grandfather.

“Your house wasn’t really worth this much – but since you’re my neighbor, fine. Still, why are you selling it?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Seriously? Where to?”

“To school!”

At the grandfather’s words, both the neighbor and the cart driver burst out laughing.

But the old man ignored them and began dressing his grandchildren. The boys were overjoyed.

At last, the cart driver, sensing the seriousness of the situation, tried to talk the old man out of it.

“Come on now, could we really go to school? Look at those who left before – none of them came back. The city’s not like the village. The city is heartless.”

“Are you taking us or not?” the grandfather stared straight at him.

Realizing it was useless to argue, the cart driver gave in.

“Fine… but you’ll pay me more.”

“Alright.”

The villagers came out to see them off. Some, with tears in their eyes, wished them good luck; others scoffed and chuckled with disbelief.

On the cart sat Old Grandpa, the little brothers Idil and Imir, their constantly meowing kitten, and the cart driver. The fat cow had been sold to the fat neighbor.

The old man turned to look at the village fading into the distance and said:

“Someone has to begin…”

But no one heard his voice except himself. Then, glancing at his two hopeful, dream-filled grandchildren who reminded him of his younger days, he smiled.

“They’re not like me,” he whispered.

With pride, the old man raised his humble head – something he had never done before. The road was long ahead, but now it was time to prove to the world that they too existed, that they too mattered.

At that very moment, in a small home back in the village, a young bride hung a tiny clock on the wall – a wedding gift from her husband.

“Tick.” “Tick.”
Time began to count the seconds.

Urazaliyeva Sarvinoz Saidakhmadovan was born on December 27, 2002, in Sirdarya region. She is currently pursuing an incomplete higher education. In 2020, she graduated from the specialized boarding school for English language in Mirzaobod district. She is now a 4th-year student at the Nizami Tashkent State Pedagogical University. In 2021, she became the winner of the regional stage and a participant of the national stage in the prose category of the “Duel” Republican Creative Contest.