Earth and Ashes - Atiq Rahimi [16]
Slowly you open your clenched fists. Your shoulders, drawn up to your ears, relax. You know Murad. Murad isn’t one to remain calm. He either burns or causes others to burn. He either destroys or is destroyed. He didn’t set fire to others this time, he burned himself. He didn’t cause destruction, he was destroyed … But why didn’t he come back and burn together with his mother’s corpse? If Murad were Dastaguir’s Murad, he would have returned to the village, he would have beaten his chest beside his lost ones, not around a fire … They told him that you too were dead. The day when you do die—and you will die, you won’t live eternally—what will he do? Will he see you have a proper burial? Will he lower your coffin into a grave? No, without shroud or coffin your body will fester under the sun … This Murad isn’t your Murad. Murad has sacrificed his soul to the rocks, the fire, the coal, to this man sitting before you, whose hot breath stinks of soot.
“Murad is our best worker,” the foreman says. “Next week we’ll be sending him on a literacy course. He’ll learn to read and write. One day he’ll hold an important post. We’re sending him because he’s a model mine worker who earns respect for being an enlightened, hardworking youth who’s committed to the revolution …”
You don’t hear the rest of the foreman’s words. You think of Mirza Qadir. Like him you must choose whether to stay or leave. If you see Murad now, what will you say to him?
“Salaam.”
“Salaam.”
“You’ve heard?”
“I’ve heard.”
“My condolences.”
“Condolences to you, too.”
And after that? Nothing.
“Good-bye.”
“Bye.”
No, you have nothing else to share with each other. Not a word, not a tear, not a sigh.
You pick up the bundle resting on your knees. You no longer want to give it to Murad. The apple-blossom scarf smells of your wife. You stand and say to the foreman, “I am going. Please tell Murad that his father came, that he’s alive, that Yassin, his son, is alive. With your permission …”
Good-bye, Murad. Head bowed, you walk out of the room. The air has grown thicker, heavier, and darker. You glance at the hilltop. It seems bigger and blacker … The men coming down the hillside have faces that are even more tired and even more black. You don’t want to look at these faces, the way you did when you first arrived at the mine. What if Murad were among them?
You head toward the gate of the mine. You have only taken a few steps when a shout stops you:
“Father!”
The voice is unfamiliar, thank God. You recognize the foreman’s servant hurrying stealthily to your side.
“Father! What I say stays between us. They told Murad that it was the mujahideen and the rebels who killed his family … in retaliation for his working here at the mine. They terrified him. Murad doesn’t know you’re alive.”
You are now even more hopeless and forlorn. You glance back at the foreman’s building and grab the servant by the arm.
“Take me to my child!”
“It’s not possible, father! Your son is working at the bottom of the mine. If the foreman knew, he’d kill me. Go, father! I’ll tell him that you came.”
The servant wants you to release him. Confused, you place your bundle on the ground. You explore your pockets. You take out your box of naswar, hand it to the servant and request that he give it to Murad. He grabs the box and rushes away.
Murad will recognize your box of naswar. After all, he gave it to you himself, the first time he was paid. As soon as he sees the box, he’ll know you’re alive. If he comes after you, you’ll know Murad is your Murad. If he doesn’t, you will have no Murad anymore. Go, get Yassin and return to the village. Wait there a few days.
You quicken your step toward the exit of the mine. You reach the gate. Without waiting for Shahmard, you walk toward the hills. A sob constricts your throat. You close your eyes and weep quietly within. Dastaguir, be strong! A man doesn’t weep. Why not?!