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The Motif of Fear in Abdulla Qahhor’s Short Story “Daxshat”:
The Clash Between Psychology and Social Environment
Abstract
This article analyzes the short story “Daxshat” by the prominent Uzbek writer Abdulla Qahhor. In the work, the motif of fear is not presented merely as a narrative element, but as a manifestation of the violation of individual social rights and profound psychological suffering. The story is examined from the perspective of modern psychology, particularly through the theory of fear developed by Sigmund Freud. The literary-critical views of Ozod Sharafiddinov and Matyoqub Qo‘shjonov are also discussed in a scholarly and publicistic manner.
Keywords: Abdulla Qahhor, “Daxshat”, Unsin, motif of fear, social oppression, realism, cemetery.
Abdulla Qahhor entered Uzbek literature like “a ray of light.” Each of his short stories represents a small world; however, carrying the weight of this world requires considerable emotional and intellectual readiness from the reader. Despite their concise form, Qahhor’s stories possess deep psychological intensity.
As literary scholar Ozod Sharafiddinov noted:
“Qahhor turns his gaze to such layers of the human soul where the boundary between fear and courage, baseness and nobility, is thinner than a strand of hair.”
The image of Unsin in Abdulla Qahhor’s short story “Daxshat” exists precisely on this fragile psychological boundary. Analyzing Unsin’s inner experiences through the lens of modern psychology—specifically Sigmund Freud’s theory of fear—helps reveal the core essence of the work. Freud classified fear into three types: real fear, neurotic fear, and moral fear. In Unsin’s character, all three forms tragically collide.
Real Fear and the External Environment
According to Freud, real fear arises from a tangible danger in the external world. For Unsin, the nighttime cemetery, wild animals, or corpses represent real sources of danger. However, Qahhor’s artistic mastery lies in using real fear merely as a background element rather than the central focus. When Unsin enters the cemetery, his mind sends a signal to “escape,” yet social pressure and coercion shackle his movements and suppress this instinct.
Moral Fear and the Superego
Moral fear emerges from a person’s sense of responsibility toward their conscience and the moral norms imposed by society. Freud explains this phenomenon through the concept of the Superego. Unsin fears not the horror of the cemetery as much as Dodkho’s wrath and the violation of his honor and dignity. His tragedy lies in the fact that the Superego—social obligation—defeats his instinct for survival. Although he fears death, he trembles even more at the prospect of living in forced submission with Dodkho.
Neurotic Fear
The most critical moment in the story occurs when Unsin’s foot sinks into the mud and he imagines that he has stepped on a corpse. This episode is a classic example of neurotic fear as defined by Freud. Here, the threat does not originate from the external world but from the individual’s internal imagination. Under extreme emotional tension and panic, rational thinking collapses. Unsin’s unconscious fears are awakened, and reality is interpreted in a horrifying manner. As a result, the human psyche cannot withstand such pressure.
Regarding this scene, Ozod Sharafiddinov states:
“Unsin’s death is not merely a cardiac arrest, but the collapse of a human imagination that crashes into the terrifying wall it has created itself.”
Literary scholar Matyoqub Qo‘shjonov writes:
“It was not the cemetery that killed Unsin, but the remnants of outdated traditions that enslaved his will and the violation of human dignity that led him to this state.”
Conclusion
The motif of fear in Abdulla Qahhor’s “Daxshat” serves as a symbolic representation of a society in which personal freedom is suppressed. Through Unsin’s tragic death, the author exposes the ugly reality of his era and highlights the individual’s psychological loneliness. The story demonstrates that fear is not solely generated by external threats, but is intensified by inner powerlessness and social oppression.
In my view, for contemporary readers, this story stands as a profound moral lesson emphasizing the importance of protecting human dignity and liberating individuals from the shackles of fear and ignorance.
References
Qahhor, A. Selected Works. Tashkent: G‘afur G‘ulom Publishing House, 2010.
Sharafiddinov, O. The Difficult Path of Creativity. Tashkent: Literature and Art, 1980.
Qo‘shjonov, M. The Mastery of Abdulla Qahhor. Tashkent: Fan, 1988.
Freud, S. Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis. (translated edition)
Hadaa Sendoo is a world-renowned Mongolian poet, translator, and literary critic. He is considered one of the leading voices in contemporary poetry, and his work is a unique milestone in modern poetry worldwide. His work often explores the intersection of nature, nomadic traditions, and universal human suffering. Critics note his ability to blend traditional Mongolian subjects with modernist and avant-garde sensibilities. Sendoo’s poems have been translated into more than 40 languages. In 2012, at the Poetry Parnassus festival in London, where his poems were literally dropped by helicopter over the city as part of a “Rain of Poems” event. He has received numerous honors, including: Poet of the Millennium Award (2000). Mongolian Writers Union Prize (2009). World Peace Prize (2019).
Inside the meadow there was a stand of trees and inside there was the cool shade and whimsical winds sometimes made a sound through the branches. I stood there and rested, halfway through my sojourn exploring nature. There were times outside of there that blue butterflies were thriving and many grasshoppers bloomed, plus some spiders.
Up above in the summers a blue sky often, but, if it turned and became overcast and that atmospheric energy entered the air, that sort of ‘before the storms’ feeling, well that was just as good as I wasn’t that far from the paths that led out and it was also an interesting change to feel that charge in the air.
And in the four seasons, that area was a dutiful and true friend, for it at its base never wavered. I think I realize now that the truth of the truth of the truth of the real and actual truth is that that area became along the way a special and loved and loving destination, a marriage of sorts between a poet and the lands where the walking would help the poet go a symbolic and literal step more towards becoming a mystic.
Spirit message. Intuition. Renewal of the mind, body, and spirit. self-healing. Kindness. Clarity. A structure out of regular psychological sets and more centred in the universal or cosmic. Society was literally and figuratively so far away in those moments, times with feet grounded on the earth, and say, the summer fields colourful or the spring universe beginning to bloom, but also the autumnal grounds with leaves or after, the wild winter, its snow resting upon the world’s reeds, branches, and pathways. Yes, it was a fine place to be and learn, to get ideas for poems, stories, and pictures. And to naturally expand consciousness.
Soft winds caress the silent groves, Along the roads thin pine rows rise. A raven circles — distant envoy, A lone horse wanders under open skies.
Here mountains stand and valleys widen, Among a thousand lands on earth — No place has ever been more precious, No soil of greater sacred worth.
The ruins of forgotten cities, Old fortresses of ancient days, The lands once held by noble peoples — Massagetae and Saka ways.
So many wars we fought for freedom — No count can hold the tears we’ve known: For land and honor, truth and homeland, For sacred right to guard our own.
Here came the early Arab marches, Met by lions proud and brave. Here rode the khans of Genghis’ empire, And blood was spilled in every wave.
Yet through the storms and burning ages, Through iron will and destiny, The sons of sacred Turan guarded Their living flame of liberty.
From grief, from chains and bitter sorrow Rose simple fighters, firm and strong. Fathers and Jadids stood together, Side by side where they belong.
Unbroken stands our spirit, rising, High and steadfast through the years. Wide-hearted, open, kind and noble — The Uzbek people persevere.
It matters not the clay that shaped the jar, nor the wind that blew through the flute of bone, art is the thread, subtle yet well-known, that binds all maps into one single star. The hand that weaves, the voice that tells the tale, belong to no shore, nor a single wall; they are lights that guide through the future’s call with rhymes of silk and silver’s trail. Let the brush travel through paths of earth, let the dance awaken the sleeping square, for a statue is life that breathes the air, erasing the hate and giving peace birth. Peoples of the world, open every door: let your neighbor’s song become your own way, for art is the sun, the wine, oand the day that joins our distant souls forevermore.
Fernando Josè Martínez Alderete
Mèxico
The Sowing of Silence
Peace is not born from the coldness of steel, nor from signatures on paper, torn and hollow; it grows in the furrow where wounds start to heal, between the stranger and the friend we follow. It is a language where borders are gone, trading the rifle for the grain of wheat, where hands that once fought, before the dawn, now build the shelter, the bread, and the seat. Let the walls of shadow and fear now fall, let the echo of hate be lost in the gale, for more strength is found in a finger’s call that reaches for another, beyond the veil. It matters not language, the faith, or the skin, the earth is the map of a single heartbeat; we are the lineage that lets grace in, leaving the ghosts of the past in retreat. Peace is the bridge that spans the abyss, the table is set, the light on the face, to find in the other a kinship like this: that their home is our home, a shared holy space.
Fernando Josè Martínez Alderete
Mèxico
Dr. Fernando Martinez Alderete
Writer, poet, theater actor, radio producer. Born in Leon Guanajato Mexico on April 21, 1977, President of Mil Mentes por México in Guanajuato. Dr. HC, global leadership and literature.
His poems were published in more than 200 anthologies in fifteen countries around the world and he is author of ten books, of poetry, short stories and novels.
Moon-aphor
Wait, the moon is a big pizza pie
in the sky? I don’t think so. Man
in the Moon, I never quite saw it.
A dinner plate, a saucer, a heavenly
body. (I’d like one of those.)
Mistaken for a lamppost
on a drunken stumble home.
That’s more like it.
An orb. A cue ball.
At times a mere crescent,
a meniscus, the Dreamworks logo
of the boy fishing off its edge.
The cutout in an outhouse door.
A half moon doesn’t know
which way it’s headed,
it’s useless in guiding me.
The moon aligns with nothing.
Planets can at least do that
from our perspective on Earth.
Let’s face it, the moon is a symbol.
Maybe a cymbal. That’s it.
The moon is our soul.
Stephen Schwei is a Pushcart-nominated Houston poet with Wisconsin roots, published in Wax Poetry & Art, RFD Magazine, GetOutMag.com, Hidden Constellation, Borfski Press, and Table//Feast and is the winner of the 2023 Kenan Ince Memorial Prize in Poetry. He has published one volume of poetry, Bluebonnet Whispers and a collaboration, Catch Me at the Carnival. A gay man with three grown children and four wonderful grandchildren, who worked in Information Technology most of his life, he can be a mass of contradictions. Poetry helps to sort all of this out. www.stephenschwei.com @steveschwei
