Story by Lobar Rustamova
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BREAD THAT WAS NOT MEANT TO BE
(A Story from the Past)
Tolibjon was from a neighboring village. After Halimboy’s shepherd passed away, Tolibjon was hired to work. Two and a half months had already passed. The boy asked several times for permission to go home. The rich man refused. If he ran away, where would he go? And whose work would he find again? When his father came, he gave up everything. If he didn’t work, his sister, mother, and himself would starve… Who would give them bread? No one! What kind of times were they living in now? Then, in front of his eyes appeared the pleading eyes of his sister with her cotton-white hair.
“Today I will go. I must go. I will run away. The bread I saved will be enough for my sister for a while. She will be very happy to see me.”
Even if she is strict, she will eat her fill. Then she can stand up and walk around freely. My mother won’t be leading her around.”
He thought this over. The dark, incomprehensible clouds of resentment in his heart seemed to dissolve, and their place was taken by the clear colors of early spring. His whole being was filled with a sense of happiness…
He got up to turn back the flock grazing beyond the mountain’s ridges. The flock was nibbling on the tender grass that the painter of autumn couldn’t save from the stones, running from stone to stone.
The sun’s warmth decreased and moved behind the mountain. It painted the horizon red and long kept the clouds around it white. Then fog covered the mountain’s bosom.
At that moment, Tolibjon reached the village, but whether it was exhaustion or the cold, his eyes kept closing. He wanted to get to his yard quickly, to pen the flock, and to sleep.
At the village entrance, a large stream flowed noisily at the countless foothills of the mountain. When the flock reached here, it started drinking water.
Tolibjon, seeing the darkness approaching, began driving the sheep by hitting them. Just then, a fat black sheep stepped into the swirling water and disappeared from view.
The boy’s desire to rest instantly turned to fear. He plunged into the water. The icy water felt as if it was cutting through his body. His body trembled. He searched underwater with his hands but caught nothing. The current carried him slightly downstream. In the dim light, only the surface of the water reflected the moonlight, and the flock continued carelessly along its path.
Finally, he got out of the stream’s edge. No sheep! Suddenly… in the darkness, he couldn’t see it, but a sheep was standing a little distance away, shaking its wet body and coughing occasionally.
Now, the feeling of fear that tightly gripped all the veins in his heart was replaced by loneliness, longing, and a sense of humiliation. The trembling that started from his feet reached his shoulders, as if the cold came from inside, not outside. The boy began to cry.
The autumn rustle. The boy’s eyes fell on the burning full moon above the large and slender poplars on the riverbank, and the kindred stars adorning the blue sky — and he realized that night had fallen. With no strength left, he set out on the road. He knew that before he could even enter the gate, the rich man’s wife would start scolding him. Then she would complain about her husband coming home late. He knew he couldn’t go home in this condition today because wolves and jackals roam at night, especially crossing the mountain was dangerous.
He also knew that today he couldn’t make his sister happy, and his sister would stay hungry and tired, falling asleep waiting on the road. In the morning, instead of walking on his own, he would sneak out with the help of his mother. He would ask his mother when his father and older brother would come.
His mother, with tear-filled tired eyes, hugged her daughter tightly, the only girl in the village, who was stuck on the lonely path. Then she spoke about how soon his father and Tolibjon would arrive, how they would bring many loaves of bread to Karomatkhon, eat their fill, and how his daughter would get better.
His sister silently listened, her body acting as ears. When she could walk, she would climb the mountains, stand at the highest peak, and look around. She said she would watch the sunrise and wish happiness for their family; she hoped that her father and brother would no longer go anywhere, always stay together, live happily, and have bread as big, white, and abundant as the sun...
...And Tolibjon’s words came true. Though Karimbobo had already penned the flock, when he saw the sheep that had slipped in, the rich man’s wife scolded him harshly:
“Where have you been wandering? What spell did you cast on this one? Hey, are you deaf? You lost your mind, making such a mess!”
Hunger, exhaustion, and cold mixed together, making the boy miserable. He heard the curses but lacked the strength to understand. He wanted to throw himself to the ground and lie down.
The old man saw the boy’s condition and felt quietly broken inside: water was dripping from the soaked clothes stuck to the boy’s body, his teeth involuntarily chattered, and his body trembled. Karimbobo penned the sheep, then picked up the boy and took him into the house.
He laid the boy down, gave him warm drinks brought by the old woman, wrapped him up, and sat beside him. At that moment, the old man felt pity for the boy and sorrow for his own hard, joyless life…
The boy knew dawn was breaking from the white light coming through the door gap. He tried to get up, but his head hurt like thunder, as if someone was pressing down on him. He tried to push himself up with his hands. No, his weak legs throbbed painfully. His vision darkened, and his heart started to ache. He coughed dryly and repeatedly. His head hurt so badly, it felt like someone was stabbing and twisting a knife inside…
He couldn’t bear it.
“Mother! My dear mother!”
He thirsted for cold water, eager and desperate. He reached the basin and collapsed.
The boy woke up sharply from the heavy blow. He opened his eyes and saw his master twisting his mustache and glaring at him.
You’ve also learned how to make him work - huh!
Afraid of the rich man’s wrath, when he tried to stand up, he managed to get up but fainted as soon as he reached the door...
He woke up around midnight, still burning like a coal. He faintly remembered Karim Bobo sitting nearby and then the rich man’s wife coming in and saying:
“Get up, leave him be, no harm will come. An orphan has seventy lives. Look after the sheep, water the horses, it’s gotten cold, split the firewood and prepare the saddles...”
At last, he saw his mother’s sorrowful face. It was as if she was saying:
“My son, you’ve suffered so much. When I want to go, I’m unwell. On top of that, with your sister left behind, where could I even go? I miss you terribly. What can I do, Tolibjon? If only there was a way and you wouldn’t stray far from my heart. Come, my child, come! Karomat misses you and cries every day. Come…”
“I’m coming now, mother, right now…” He painfully lifted his weak body and began searching for the bundle of bread he had prepared for his sister. He crawled around in the dark house for a long time. Then he remembered it was between the pillows. He took the bread, and with his hands, felt for his belt. Holding the bundle tightly, he decided: even if he had to crawl, he would go home! He wouldn’t stay here for a minute, not even a breath. He crawled toward the door, sat down, and thought, “Now I will stand up. My legs will surely carry me. I must walk! After all, I’m going home! There’s my mother, my sister… I’m taking bread to her, bread…”
Suddenly, his head spun. He began coughing nonstop. His head throbbed painfully. The pain in his heart spread through his body, and he lay down weakly...
The squeaking of mice was heard in the house.
They ran here and there, desperate for the bread in the bundle. Tolibjon involuntarily pulled the bundle away from a nearby mouse and hugged it to his chest...
Some time passed. The pale light of dawn entered through the door crack, gently coaxing the boy awake. It caressed his face and eyes. Outside, the bleating of sheep and lambs began to be heard. But the boy... two mice sat on him, gnawing on the bread crumbs from the bundle.
Story by Lobar Rustamova (Uzbekistan)
Member of the Writers’ Union of Uzbekistan
