Memories
Where are the days lost?
Going, memories of golden days.
The happy times are disappearing,
I remember the old memories.
The times of sitting together,
And chatting are changing.
How time has passed today,
I have grown up
One of the eternal truths of the world is that,
Life is beautiful if you adapt yourself to each moment.
Md. Easa Hossain (subas) is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
-MD. Rizwan Islam (Talha)
My Mother
My mother’s name is Mst. Roksana Yesmin. She is 35 years old. She is a M.A. She teaches in a primary school in Dinajpur. After school hours she works at home. She cooks our food. She also looks after my old grandmother and my little sister. She takes care of our health and studies. On holiday, she cooks special dishes for us. She washes the clothes. She keeps the house clean. Sometimes she goes to the market. She also visits relatives. She helps the sick people. In the evening, she watches TV. She spends her free time with us. She remains busy the whole week. No person in the world is like my mother.
So, I love my mother very much.
MD. Rizwan Islam (Talha) is a student of grade six in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
Vollmann’s Poor People slightly altered Soot covered woman of the burned land, Madagascar Homeless camp under the freeway, Miami People and streetscapes, Riverton, Oregon Office cleaning lady just off work with Colonel Sanders (life-sized statue) Bangkok “I think they are poor” venerable white-haired man begging, Beijing Congolese beggar boy, dressed in filthy rags Unknown street sleepers Man in rubble of destroyed home Man with photo and deed to his destroyed home Garbage lady, Nanking Panorama of box houses, Tokyo Beggar in full body burqa like an angel of death, Yemen Streetwalker in burqa approaching a rickshaw, Peshawar Homeless man reading a newspaper in park, Tokyo Three drunks, Nome, Alaska Beggar girl with deformed nose Beggar pretending to be armless, Bangkok Family in front of their bullet pocked house, Congo Snarling beggar, Bogotá Man with crooked face, Bogota “Donate here to get me out of your neighborhood” placard, Oregon Afghan boys playing in wrecked Soviet plane, Afghanistan Afternoon on Ave de la Mort, Brazzaville Operation Crossroads 1948: Bikinis, a journal, extracted As culled from the journals of forward observer Of Bikini Island tests, Dr. David Bradley, in his book , NO PLACE TO HIDE “In the three years of the “atomic age,” five bombs (or is it six?) have been exploded. On only these last two or three have men been prepared to study and record the findings under anything like controlled conditions.” “This morning the surface (of the ocean) was scattered over with tiny floating jellyfish, or baby men-o-wars. Delicate, diaphanous creatures, they look like blown cherry blossoms on a windy lawn of the Pacific.” “By the nature of our work almost everything we know is potentially dangerous.” “Actually, of course, there will never be any great control of ideas concerned with atomic energy, the principles have already spread like an epidemic.” “Lectures on physics have given way to the practical business of the detection of radioactivity.” “It will be difficult to convince people of the dangers of radiation.” “The persistent power of the bomb after it has exploded is its greatest menace.” “They(the old and wise) doze a moment in the sun and wake up on fire.” Sante’s Evidence “Traces of innumerable human beings lost to history once and for all, without monuments or descendants or living record.” “A copy of a Black Hand threat letter, decorated with obscene drawings.” “An enigmatic set of shots, from various angels of a man’s right hand with two thumbs.” “Magnified views of pieces of jewelry and barely decipherable snapshots.” “Studies of urinals at different (police) station houses.” “Locations: bedrooms, bars, back alleys, vacant lots, storerooms, hovels hallways” “You do not have to be glamorous to meet a violent end.” “Objects of interest, at least momentarily, taken together, they become stills from a film, a nightmare, ride from room to room in the small hours.” “These subjects are constantly in the process towards obliteration.” “These photographs-as evidence, they are mere artless records, concerned with the details…they are the book- keeping entries, with no transfiguring mission, and serve death.” “We are breaking a taboo as old as the practice of shutting the eyes of cadavers and weighing down their lids.” “Photography like death, interrupts life.” “The more empty the photograph, the more it will imply horror.” “Empty photographs have no reason to be except to show that which cannot be shown.” “Evidence is a magnet for the random.” “You do not have to be glamorous to meet a violent end.” Julia Solis’ New York Underground: the Anatomy of a City, in text and photographs with occasional commentary Inside the Croton Aqueduct (like The Thing from Outer Space) Roots (like veins) inside the long-abandoned Croton Aqueduct Rebuilding the foundation of 7 World Trade Center A manhole cover leading to a branch of Croton Aqueduct (like a portal to the outer circles of hell) Sealed water pipes to a branch of Ridgewood Reservoir with graffiti, Brooklyn The gate chamber on the Bronx side of High Bridge (with standing water and garbage) Inside a storm drain Queens Ghost Stations: City Hall station abandoned retaining some of its former glory Abandoned 91st street station with elaborate graffiti Sealed staircase lower-level City Hall station Remnant of obsolete trolley station Essex and Delancy Long abandoned Croton Aqueduct well on its way to being reclaimed by nature Virginal track segment, never used Ghostly staircase eastern end of Lexington Ave. station Ground Zero October 2001 Long after last transport, a gurney in a tunnel, Seaview Hospital Mattresses piled in deteriorating heaps in basement of a mental hospital Obsolete freight track, Hell’s Kitchen Long forgotten abandoned burial crypts The central aisle of the crypt of St. Patrick’s cathedral A Plague of Souls: Contemporary (Mostly) Japanese Noir Devotion of Suspect X Tokyo Nights Hotel Lucky Seven Sleeping Dragon All She Was Worth In the Miso Soup Coin Locker Baby The Devil’s Flute Slow Fuse Three Assassins Bullet Train Crossfire Grotesque Real World Out Winter Sleep Almost Transparent Blue The Memory Police Village of Eight Graves Freud On Aphasia Interpretation of Dreams Secret Memories The Future of Illusion The Ego and the ID Jokes and Their Relationship to the Unconscious The Psychology of Everyday Life “Civilized” Sexual Morality and Modern Illness The Most Prevalent Form of Degradation of Erotic Life Mourning and Melancholy Civilization and Its Discontents Beyond the Pleasure Principle Medusa’s Head Totem and Taboo: Resemblances between the psychic lives of savages and neurotics Reflections on War and Death A Case of Paranoia Running Counter to the Psychic Analytic theory of disease Case Studies: Dora Little Hans Rat Man Wolfman Jokes and Their Relation to the Unconscious Brutal (Soviet) Bloc Post Cards “Ideas are more powerful than guns. We would not let our enemies have guns, why should we let them have ideas? Joseph Stalin Monument to Builders of the Volga Power Station 1967 Worker and Collective Farm Women (statues) circa 1960’s (Literal) Flower of Life (concrete sculpture) 1968 Monument to the Conquerors of Near Universe 1988 Monument to the Conquerors of Space (glass ellipse) 1964 A Special Sign at the entrance to the city, Brest, (indescribable) 1987 Memory of Military Glory, Moldavia 1983 Karl Marx Monument, Tashkent, 1980 (Flyaway concrete hair) Kulpenberg TV Tower (“beehive” on concrete tower) Avala TV Tower, Belgrade (pointed as a needle) Slovak Tower Building, Bratislava 1983 (inverted pyramid) Brotherly Mound, Hillock of Fraternity Memorial Complex, Bulgaria 1980 Museum of the revolution, Lithuania SSR 1980 Obelisk of Glory, Modavic, 1972 Concrete arch known as Andropov’s Ears, Tbilisi, Georgia 1983 Museum to the Defenders of the Caucasian Mountain Passes, 1983 (Concrete henges rising) Monuments to the heroic Sailors of the Black Sea, 1971 All-Terrain Vehicle Monument to the Pioneers 1987 Broken Ring Monument, Lake Lagoda, 1966 Monument to the Communists Who Died in September 1923 Uprising, Bulgaria Alyosha Monument to the Defenders of the Soviet Arctic, Murmansk, 1986 Armenian Genocide Memorial Cemetery Complex 1967 The Sash of Glory, Odessa 1975 (glorious silhouette carved From concrete) The Constinesti Obelisk-Constinesti Beach, 1970 (White Polished marblesque, whatever on the beach front) Star Monument Kharkiv, Ukraine 1975 Monument to the executed partisans, Yugoslavia Arch of Diversity, monument dedicated to the unification Of the USSR and Ukraine 1982
shedding ten-thousand shipworms of worry
skip the low-interest, multi-step directions... I've a better chance of deciphering the Voynich manuscript
swallowtail guess what I was about to say
even though the complex probability amplitudes are against me, ‘Moon Ra’
tic convulsif… elder brother’s son home from war
let them use the glitter
heads bowed in the next yard, requiem for a woo woo
kids blowing bubbles in a world without end
he was a nervous talker, who punished wide-eyed historians with Roman forecasts
she preferred he accept a non-speaking part
graciously receiving morning salutations from the thundercloud tree
hard as I tried, the infinite series continued right on out of the back of my flat head
the voiced and unvoiced consonants that happened in the front of the room
Patrick Sweeney is a short-form poet and a devotee of the public library.
We wish a very happy Father’s Day to everyone who will celebrate this month! Creativity is an act of fathering, of providing, protecting, nurturing, and raising, as much as birthing works.
Also, at the request of many contributors, we are sharing ways writers and artists can lend a hand to different places in the world.
Literary Ways to Help Ukraine
Engin Program, Online English-speaking conversation partners for Ukrainian youth
Donate to Help Ukrainian Books make grants to librarians and booksellers
Literary Ways to Help Haiti
Children’s book donations through Friends of Humanity
Volunteer virtually with Partners in Literacy Haiti
Now, for our second June 2024 issue, we return to the basics of many human stories: life, love, and death.
Z.I. Mahmud explicates how Zeffirelli’s film adaptation of Romeo and Juliet captures the violent and tumultuous atmosphere of the romance. Shuhratova Shaxina praises the clarity of feeling in the writings of Alexander Feinberg as Prasannakumar Dalai illuminates strong, plaintive bursts of feelings of romance and lament.
David Sapp recollects a childhood crush and his mother’s early rebellion against gender roles. Jacques Fleury rebels against the racism and class prejudice against marginalized writers. Aziza Saparbaeva takes pride in her home village and how the people fought for freedom, and Muntasir Mamun Kiron offers up an elegy for the bold warriors who founded Bangladesh.
Ibrahimov Saidakbar outlines the historical accomplishments of Uzbek writer Gafur Ghulam as Zeboxon Akmalova speaks to children’s education and the potential of children and Sadoquat Begamova talks about methods for education of visually impaired young people. Sharipov Ubaydullojon outlines the basics of German linguistics, Narzulloyeva Munisa Bakhromovna highlights the good parts of the Internet but offers a caution against obsession, and Zamira Hakimova explores the etymological roots of the terms Uzbeks use to talk about financial processes as Mamatazimov Kabiljon outlines principles of mechanical safety for workers in industrial plants.
Gulsanam Qurbonova writes about finding the motivation to achieve one’s goals as Amir Hamza describes a lonely boy who rises to the occasion to save lives. Bruce Roberts reflects on the artistic self-assertion embodied in Michelangelo’s David as Xidirova Mahliyo offers a patriotic celebration of her country. Christopher Bernard’s riddle poem invites speculation while drawing on history and myth as Alan Catlin confabulates historical and artistic images into poetry.
Mark Young concocts images combining text and different sorts of shapes, lines, and colors for visual effect as J.D. Nelson links words together into fragmentary monostich poems. Brian Le Lay plays with sound and thought in hay (na) kus that seem bilingual or trans-lingual.
Gregg Norman’s poetic speaker grapples with weather, with what humans cannot control. Graciela Noemi Villaverde’s poem explores feelings of waiting and watching, for the return of hope or a lover. Faleeha Hassan compares writers’ block to the abandonment of a lover. Elmaya Jabbarova evokes the mystery, wonder, and unpredictability of love and happiness. Dr. Jernail S. Anand illuminates how much our world is beyond humans’ influence as John Grey contributes humorous reflections on being stuck, staying or escaping with your mind. Hatamova Charos poetically longs for chamomile and the cities of Oman that are lost to her.
Kathleen Hulser speculates on matter remaining as it transforms, suggesting that it is okay to declutter and let go of things. Sushama Kasbekar looks at an old tea set to comment on the constant flow of time and on enjoying what you have while you can. Audrija Paul reflects on the tragedy of love and life nearly lost while Taylor Dibbert reminds us that life after tragedy can be strangely uneventful.
Susie Gharib captures the world-weariness of 2020, full of war and disease, as Mykyta Ryzhykh highlights the world’s tender questions and contradictions and J.J. Campbell recollects a search for love amidst the brutality of those who should have cared for him. For Joan McNerney, the “world is too much with us,” too tiring, scary, and complex, and she finds comfort in the mysteries of nature. Jasmina Rahmatullayeva explores the psychology underlying acts of criminal violence, Dr. Jernail S. Anand laments the selfishness in too many people’s love, and Bill Tope’s protagonist realizes as an adult that his childhood friend was being abused.
Michaila Oberhoffer explores the role social conditioning plays in our emotions in her book The Roots of John’s Happiness. Irodaxon Ibragimova speculates on where we can find happiness and offers gratitude for it. Azimjon Toshpulatov’s hopeful poem asserts that she will find joy one day.
Rachel Gorman-Cooper explores our primal hungers as Jim Meirose provides a humorous take on humans’ deciding everything by committee. Nahyean Taronno begins a horror tale where humans must work together to overcome primal fears and escape the threat of the unknown.
Brian Barbeito idly speculates on life on a horse ranch as Isabel Gomes de Diego sends up photographs of direct encounters with nature and Kylian Cubilla Gomes highlights the subtle and obvious ways we work with and regulate nature. Munnavar Boltayeva urges us to save the environment as Zulfiqurova Muslima discusses pollution of the Aral Sea and the need for restoration and O’razaliyeva Charos revels in the joy of the spring. Terry Trowbridge plays with syntax enough to restore a feeling of wonder at nature.
Duane Vorhees talks about sensual Southern European love, nature, politics and beach life. Norman J. Olson reminisces on a recent European cruise he took with his wife that inspired poetry and sketches. Easa Hossain remembers the green farmland of his home village with nostalgia. Shafkat Aziz Hajam shares regrets over lost love as Daniel De Culla visits a museum exhibit on dinosaurs and speculates on the ghosts in Spain’s past.
Allison Grayhurst offers a tribute to her mother, a very slow, gentle, realistic take on death and caregiving, accompanied by a photo of the sky on each of her mother’s last days. Yuldashev Jumanazar Muradjanovich relates a tale of love that lasts until death while Bill Tope explicates how war can break up families and the extent we can go for love.
Awodele Habeeb claims that the devil and death will not have the final word as Michael Robinson takes comfort in faith and forgiveness. Lidia Popa comments on how humans throughout time have turned to faith to process our feelings about death.
Sandy Rochelle calls us to let go and rest and let life carry us on the winds of change as Michael Stewart gives gentle encouragement to rest, let life take its course. Michelle Reale speaks to an intuitive and spiritual relationship between a father and daughter as Kristy Raines revels in wonder at the tenderness of love. Mesfakus Salahin rests content in an eternal love as Mirta Liliana Ramirez depicts a moment of passion made possible because people trust and feel safe with each other. Dr. Maheshwar Das finds tender joy in faith and birdsong as Anindya Pal offers a sensual tale of rain and love and Don Bormon meditates on the soft and gentle promise of sunrise.
Dilnoza Xusanova highlights the example of compassion in Ahmed Lutfiy Kazanchi’s novel Stepmother. Mukhammadova Mushtaryibegim Otabekovna praises the value and high calling of motherhood. Yuldasheva Xadichaxon’s essay explicates true friendship as Makhzuna Habibova’s poem reflects the exquisite emotions of love and Sevinch Nusratullayevna praises the virtue of kindness. Nigar Nurulla Khalilova rejoices in a love that has overcome major obstacles and stood the test of time. Maja Milojkovic urges people to turn towards caring for each other, starting with gentle inner attitudes. Mahbub Alam celebrates the community and joy created by the Muslim feast and festival of Eid as Nosirova Gavhar remembers an afternoon where she baked and enjoyed mint pie with her mom and grandmother and Muslima Murodova speaks to the healing power of bread cooked with a family’s love.
Thank you for your kindness and consideration in reading our publication. We invite you to leave words of encouragement for the authors and artists.
PETRICHOR
Jumanazar Yuldash
‘I beg you, please never leave me alone…’
He unintentionally whispered as he held his wife’s hands both firmly and in a kindly way, and he rubbed them on his eyes. Having heard this crying-like exclamation the patient who used to be groaning a minute before regained consciousness. She caressed hair of her husband who was kindly kissing and rubbing her hand on his forehead.
‘Oh how can I quit you, my madman?’
The man who went into ecstasy of seeing his wife’s consciousness automatically kissed her forehead.
‘Just recently doctor was here. He said that you would not wake up in a short time. However, thanks to my God, my prayers seem to be reached to him’.
A weak smile appeared on the pale face of woman. Afterwards for some reason she sighed and army of thoughts conquered her mind.
‘You… never ask for my recovery’ she said utilizing all strength she possessed.
‘Why you are uttering these words?’ the man shocked.
‘Because… I do not know why but for some reason God does not gave us what we asked for but the very opposite one. For instance, now you absolutely want me to live but maybe until tomorrow I will have been perished and fairies will be dancing around my spirit in the heavens’.
‘What should I do then? See, you are in a bad situation and I simply cannot keep calm without paying attention. At least I must pray for your sake’.
‘You would better… ask for my death’.
The situation was really uncomfortable for the husband and even it cannot be described with the help of words unless the reader have been in a such situation. Inclining his head, he was completely dumbfounded by the last utterance. From his condition it was possible to know that he was imagining his life alone. Finally, he managed to say a word:
‘Do not repeat this anymore…’
Apparently, woman suddenly realized that she started talking about unhappiness, therefore she did all her best to explain what was the real meaning of her words.
‘I assume that you misunderstood me. I do not choose passing away, contrarily, I want to live, only to live happily with you, my lover, and I can imagine my future in the dim: you and I shall hand-in-hand go to forest after the rain to collect mushrooms, with a wide smile in our faces. Yes, I can see the very scene! Yes!
A light, tired but happy smile appeared on her pale white face which had been revived a bit but still showing traces of illness. With the most sudden and hopeful gaze she stared outside the window. Due to the fact that her place was inconvenient to look outside, she intended to see the view standing up on her feet. Unfortunately, hands of her husband did not let her move.
‘Please, look at the window. Haven’t it rained recently?’
‘It haven’t rained since you are in bed. Why are you asking?’
‘Honestly, I wish it was raining right now and we could go to collect mushrooms together. But I don’t know the reason. Give me a word, please, shall we go to the forest when I recover from illness?’
‘I promise you, darling. We will go as soon as you are well, but please, get over your illness as soon as possible. Your contemporary condition is the most unbelievable pain for me, darling’.
‘Why you are always being pessimistic, as I said you, I will never let you stay in this world alone. It is not my fate. Let us change the theme, I don’t know why but I am really eager to converse with you’.
Now for the first time a couple of loving hearts felt the initial sweetness of ecstatic moments after surviving prolonged days of misfortune and these moments seemed not to come to an end forever. While dreaming about endless delight a man always lets his painful breath out unintentionally; the whole world, especially, his lovely friends look very gorgeous to his eyes and at that time he will be ready to do anything for his friends.
Now the husband was staring at his wife with the same happy and positive gaze that he suddenly realized it was impossible to stop himself from expressing his feelings.
‘A conversation?’ he questioned holding her hands firmly. ‘Darling, if only you had known that not only conversing with you, but deserving your attention also is the biggest joy for me. Oh, if only you had known that, dear!’
He put palm of his woman on his chest as if he was intending to let her listen his heart beats. But woman pulled his hand back with a quick act as if she touched the fireplace and stared at him smiling mildly.
Eyes could not help looking at each other’s deepest sides and lovers smiled at the same time.
‘I know, even I know very well and every morning I thank God that I am not a blind one. Do you know why I do so? Because God had not deprived me to see you’.
‘Oh darling… We are extremely happy! Have you ever thought whether there are others who are as much contented as we are? If yes, how many of them exists? Very few or so many in quantity?’
‘To my mind, probably there are not any blissful couple except us’.
They both laughed with joy. Husband stared at somewhere so long. Those who had tasted the real happiness and those who had realized what a magic it is usually dwell in the same way: with a smile in their lips, staring at one particular point as if they are obliged to look at that side forever or like a thinker who aimed to reveal all the secrets hidden in that tiny area of room they gaze. In this period of staring, for sure, others’ opinions on happiness seem very interesting to them.
‘For you what is the happiness itself?’ he asked keeping on staring at the same point.
After a while he accidentally recognized what he had said, so he felt somehow embarrassed from his question.
‘You may consider that question as a ridiculous and childish one. But please, do not be shocked, do not be disappointed from me for giving you this kind of weary question. Simply this question came to my mind and I transformed it to my speech. You do not need to answer it’.
‘No, I answer with all my heart. The only thing surprised me is your embarrassment. Because this question should be asked from everyone. It is the greatest question in this world. I commended it a lot, sorry, now I have to answer to this properly. For me every breathe I take is happiness, my ability to cry, to laugh and to see is the great joy, and in general, my existence is happiness. Everything related to me in this world is delight. Breathing in the fresh air, listening to the song of birds, lying underneath the initial beams of sunlight, watching the flight of beautiful butterflies, smelling lovely perfume of flowers – all things I have mentioned is happiness, I even consider pain and sorrow as a type of joy’. Having finished her speech, woman looked at her partner who was analyzing his thought. At that moment she found herself eligible to repeat this question. ‘So, how would you answer it yourself?’
‘I can only state my answer in short. Your existence and your belonging to me is happiness. Right, I am madly devoted to you, darling. I adore you even though you hate me as you hated the most awful man in the world. Maybe my words seem very simple to you. But I want you to know this: you are second half of me. I cannot be perfect without you’.
Woman broke into laughter unintentionally.
‘You spoke like…’ she said and paused for a while. She understood that continuation of her words would harm her husband’s soul.
‘Like what?’ he asked seriously. His facial expression revealed that he was eager to hear the rest of her speech.
‘You spoke like a fake lover!’
Woman smiled sweetly. Her husband once looked at her and then he aimed his glaze at the window.
‘It is still cloudy…’ he said with a sick voice.
His spouse was still staring at him regretfully. Husband had already realized this, however he went on looking at the window intentionally.
‘Look at me’ said she. And he obeyed. ‘I let you down, I know…’ she held his hands and kissed them. ‘Sorry… Please, forgive me…’
He, as well, replied to his wife by holding her hands.
‘No, I am not upset with you. I never be sad because I am not allowed to be sad’ he smiled to prove his words. ‘Do you know, it was not your words, but my own behavior offended me. My attitude and ridiculous sample-like words seemed to you like an artificial one, so it is my own fault, not yourself. I cannot hide waves of feelings I have. I really want to express all the words I possess in my heart. I want to share all the joy and all the sorrow I have with you. Therefore, I reveal you my secrets’.
‘Forgive me for offending your soul, I am so sorry…’
‘No! Please do not say that feel sorry. I am not allowed to be angry with you. It is sin’. He kept a bit silence. ‘Do you know, God lavished us with a great joy. All we have to do is to deserve this joy and enjoy it. Now imagine, if you carry on quarreling and offending each other without any reason, if we do not stop asking for forgiveness, how God will again bless us? He would be upset from our ungrateful attitude. I am afraid of this… I am afraid of living these happy days no more. I am worried that God might possibly retake what he gave us. If I tell you, I have read a book yesterday. The author of that book was a person who denied the God. A minute, please…’ he quickly stood up and took a book with red cover from the shelf. ‘It consisted of such frustrating things that I shocked while reading. Surely it is written by a murderer of happiness’ he started reading the lines which he highlighted before:
“I cannot spend all my life fearing of Great Creator who supposed to be able to deprive me from happiness I have. I would rather live unhappily or die. God wants us to live in fear. He is an egoist. The best way is to disobey his rules and to pass away” – ‘I cannot read more. These are words of a wicked person who teaches to quit bright side and leads people to the darkness. Can it be really true that people follow him and accept his thoughts? Isn’t it a whole of malice, it is? How this person, whose words stink the smell of secularism and materialism, can be able to someone’s attitude towards the life. God will never punish those who are not grateful of their happiness. God is the most generous one. He only wants to give people all the best things because whoever in this world want to harm his or her own children? He will forgive all of our sins if we understand and feel sorry for what we have done. He will even forgive this atheist author, if he feels really sorry. The greatest sin is to criticize openhanded God. But why he does not understand this?!’
‘Can you give me that book, please?’ suddenly she said.
She took the book handed to her and looked for a while. Flipping through the pages she started to read some pieces of it. The more he read, the more sadness and horror appeared on her face… Having read the last page, she closed the book and whispered something. She passed the book to her husband and turning her head back, said: ‘Let it burn…’
Man gazed at her astonishing, but he did what he ordered: he threw the book away to the fire. It started to burn better. Then he looked back at her. The woman accidentally became apathetic to everything, it was difficult to know exactly where she was looking at or what she was thinking about.
‘What you asked for while whispering?’ he asked. ‘I hope you haven’t asked for the death of author’ he laughed.
Now, hearing this sudden question she gained her consciousness and glared at him seriously. Man felt embarrassed at his weird and unlucky joke.
‘How can you assume that? How do I dare to ask for someone’s death?’
‘No, I was only joking, sorry’.
‘You said that you were not allowed to be upset from me. This rule not only works for you, but also for me. Therefore, no need to say sorry. I asked… I asked from God to forgive this sinner. I think, we don’t have to hate these kind of people. Contrarily, we must feel sorry for them. How cannot you feel sorry for those who failed to find the right path? They resemble to the yellow autumn leaves. If an evening breeze blows a bit, they abandon their branches. The reason why they sink in the ocean of sins is that they have lack of patience and ambition’.
Painful silence filled the room. They both were sadly thinking about something. At first husband recognized that there was inconvenience and found it very annoying.
‘Why we are keeping silent. See, we are happy people. Sadness does not fit us. Why not we cheer up or remember something. Because we are not this kind of individuals. What is the difference between us and unhappy people if we carry on keeping silence?’
‘You are right. We got even much sadder. But these kind of people…’
‘Okay, please, let’s stop discussing them. Because they are not related to our life in any way. Why not we look back on any of our more delightful times which are wort to remember. There is no need to think about this kind of issues while we have lots of sweet memories, I think. On the other hand, the world is getting much darker and darker day by day. All we have to do is to burn and tear up this darkness conquering the world.
‘Yes’ she said smiling.
Her husband did all his best to find any worth-to-remember story they had. It did not take a long time. He found what he wanted but it was not a story they both took part in but he was very impatient to tell her something he had had in her mind for long time. Unfortunately, he had no suitable situation to retell it. Now it was the very right time he wanted so he took his wife’s hands in order to let his words out.
‘Actually, I was going to speak about the funniest moments we had. But now I want to tell you something I was dwelling on for a long period. Do you still remember once we made a trip to mountain? At that time something unknown happened and weather turned bad. So as to find a dry shelter we had climbed up to the shanty on the peak of mountain. A wrinkled old man with grey hair had welcomed us. Even though he was not extremely glad to have guests, he did not seem so sad as well from our visit. He invited us to drop in. He even gave us a cup of tea and to towel to dry ourselves and took his sit in front of fireplace and went on reading a book. While we were sipping tea and conversing with each other he had glanced at us so many times both secretly and openly. When we talked about something interesting, he also had smiled and I think, our conversation was more intriguing than book for him. In order to behave as a polite man, he was pretending himself as if he was not listening to our discussion, however my eyes had recognized it already. For some reason the old man sighed while listening to our nostalgic memories. He put the book and gazed at hearth for a long time. He light of the fire revealed that he was hiding his tear drops on his face. He was whimpering with no sound. (You hadn’t recognized it.) At that time, to be honest, I felt very unusually embarrassed. I felt so sorry for an old man that… I contemplated that my future will duplicate this old man’s fate. Do you believe in seeing one’s future or past on another one’s life? I had seen… Then it ceased to rain. We abandoned his old house expressing our gratitude. I overthought about him. But I had not searched for him until I knew that I had to see him again. I had revisited that are to find him and investigated everywhere we stepped on. Unfortunately, I could find neither him nor his shanty. I don’t know why, but I wanted to tell you this…’ – he stared at somewhere for awhile – ‘I… I love you to death!’ As he was going to cry, put his face into the embrace of his wife, – ‘I… I…’ – he could not help himself stop crying, – ‘Why?… Why?’
Early drops of the tear appeared inside the woman’s eyes.
‘It will never happen… Trust me, dear. Because I have told you…’
Suddenly thunderstorm broke out. Thick black clouds veiled the whole sky.
Woman hopefully looked at the window.
‘Look, my dear, it is raining…’
‘Yeah, it is raining’ he also stared hopefully.
They both glared at window for long, until it stopped raining. Despite they both were in tears they were trying to hide it from each other.
It was raining no more.
‘Can you help me stand up?’ she could not do it by herself so she asked for a help.
She went to the door counting on the shoulders of her helper. While walking she looked at her partner. He was trying to hide his eyes for some reason. His eyes were weeping. She paused for a while, wiped his eyes and smiled with sorrow. Then she took her basket.
‘Shall we go?’ she said happily.
‘Let’s go!’ her husband as well said in the same way, forgetting all the pains and tortures of his soul.
Laughing happily, they stepped into the wood spreading dewy petrichor.
2018
Translated from Uzbek into English by Shokhrukh Usmonov
About the author
Jumanazar Yuldash was born in 1997 in the Khiva district, Kharezm, Uzbekistan. He is an undergraduate student of Philology and Uzbek Language faculty at Urgench State University. His stories were published on the pages of national press. His works were included in several collection such as “Song of the Rivers” (“Jilgʻalar qoʻshigʻi”), “Common hearts” (“Mushtarak dillar”), “Garden of Creativity” (“Ijod gulshani”). He is a participant of the Zaamin seminar (2018). Winner of the creative festival “Spring of Uzbekistan II” (“Oʻzbekiston bahori”) in Khiva in 2019. Author of the collection of short stories named “Petrichor” (“Yomgʻirdan soʻng”).
Description of the image of the stepmother in the novel “Stepmother” by Ahmed Lutfiy Kazanchi
Ahmad Lutfi Kazanchi was born in 1936 in Churum district of Turkey. He is a very famous writer. His works include “Stories of the Age of Happiness”, “Abu Bakr Siddiq r.a.”, “Hazrat Umar ibn Hattab r.a”, “Stepmother”, “Mother-in-law”. Writer relies on historical sources while showing the beauty of Islam, how well-mannered and conscientious Muslims. From the artistic point of view. When the writer writes about the bandalas on the right path, he narrates the stories that can be an example for us.
Speaking about the work “Stepmother”, it should be noted that it is not about Fatima. Badia is about what the mothers of the whole community are like. Like many works of Ahmed Lutfiy Kazanchi, the work “Stepmother” made a special impression on the readers, and the exemplary behavior of people whose only religious goal is God’s pleasure is beautifully illuminated. “Stepmother” by Ahmed Lutfiy Kazanchi can melt everyone’s heart, it can be said that it is a piece of his soul.
This work gives readers a lot of knowledge. He calls them to be believers, to do good. This book is scientifically interesting, but also full of virtues. The sequence of events is also very well written. The experiences of the heroes of the work absorb the reader to such an extent that one becomes a partner in their joys, pains, and trials. As soon as we read the title of the work, we imagine a mother who oppresses and humiliates her stepchildren. But Fatima is not one of those mothers. She studied both religion and the world from a young age. She lives only with love for God and his prophet. In his heart was not to win the love of servants, but to fall in the eyes of God.
So, can we call Fatima, who brought up Odilbek’s children more than her own children, who washed and combed her hair white and white, “stepmother”? Mother, who had the intention of becoming a true Muslim in her heart, accepted the hardships and various trials as a blessing. Because,
In verse 127 of Surah An-Nisa, God blesses you with “…treating weak children and orphans fairly. Whatever good you do, God is All-Knowing.”
There are many qualities that we should learn from Fatima. Surrender to God, patience and love… She became the educator not only of his children, but of the entire society. It is said that if you educate a boy, you educate a person, and if you educate a girl, you educate the whole society. Therefore, it is necessary for us girls to learn every second, to be like Fatimas. This work “Stepmother” is a work that can prove that a person can achieve bright and shining days by being patient and doing good deeds. In short, this book is proof that every good deed does not go unrequited. Every work of Ahmad Lutfiy Kazanchi has a place in the hearts of people. Each of his books are wonderful books that call to faith. In the end, we realize that Allah will reward us according to all our deeds and that we can receive two worldly rewards for our good deeds. Can I do the same as you read the feats of Fatima? you ask. We ask Allah to give us all knowledge and courage like Fatima.