TIME THIEF

This terrifying story happened ten years ago. Sharp ten tears ago, quite unexpectedly, with heart and soul he realized that he was sure to die in one of these days, close his eyes for ever. This unusual discovery brought him into indescribable horror, his body covered with cold sweat, his hair stood on end, and first ever in his life he was frightened of death. He thought much of it, but could not reconcile himself with the fact that would never see sun, flowers, trees, and moon light, his children again; would never repair clock and watch of clients; would never love his wife; would finally disappear from this world. These thoughts brought him into horrible, inexplicable and concurrently confused feelings and his heart as if broke. This was really sad: would he really be deprived of taste for life, grief, sorrow, joy, children, wife, and other people residing in this world. If it takes place in reality, what is the sense of this indeterminate life, full of confusion, bringing no delight with sorrow and hardships more than joys? When he imagined what would happen to this perfidious world after him, he wanted to spit, scream, shout himself hoarse until his voice is lost. At any rate, this astonishing world with its inexplicable, sometimes inadmissible events, with all its bad and good people, with its joys and grieves, unsteady welfare; this world which shatters a human being, urges other people to do the same conformably to others; this always new and always old world was much more better. The point is that he has accustomed to this world like his native children, like himself, like his small shop, like bread, sun, wife; and this world with its miracles and deformities proved to be native and relative.

Everything is so simple, very simple as nothing else. He would die, and like others he be taken to the cemetery and, in conformity with all traditions, buried in the cold earth. His body would be covered with earth, and sun rays would never penetrate into this grave, this mouth of earth to gulp him down. Never in the world. Sun would die away. Riff-raff! Why do they deceive him so shamelessly? These liars alleged that sun would never die away.

After funeral, all the participants of the ceremony would go home. But he would never do, first ever in his life he would not open doors of his abode, no door would sweep open before him. Still, children would be waiting for him to come, and ask mother: “Where is papa? Why does not he come?” His wife would invent anything to calm them. The only thing these creatures called women excel us, men, is that they are Jack of all trades. First ever in their life they would dine without him, eat his favorite bozbash with spring onions, cress-salad, hot flavored tendir bread. Then a new day would come, and his children, these innocent creatures, his flesh and blood, would plunge into whirlpool of this life like a small defenseless boat.

And the most terrific thing is that this day would be new for his wife as well. God knows what rascal dares kiss his blue-eyed wife, caress her rusty, soft hair, snuggling up to her snow-white breast and fondling her white, round belly with his hands like two twisting snakes, which glide over so native, hot flesh, and this rascal folding her in his arms…

Perhaps, this would be a new watchmaker who takes his place at the shop. May be, somebody else. At any rate, this would happen, sooner or later. Women are the most treacherous and unfaithful creatures like the life proper. And what would happen to him, under this cold, damp earth, without sun, light – God knows.

My God, how horrible!

Pah!

These feelings broke his heart, and he felt inevitability of decision-making, for he disliked his life after death. His nerves failed him when he imagined the world without him. At a moment, he felt pity for his father, grandfather, grandmother, and all his forefathers. It is surprising that he suddenly realized how to get out of the impasse. It is imperative to stop time, turn the wheel of time back. Beyond any doubts, it was the cleverest, wisest decision, for there was no other way out. In doing so, he would be able to steal time and life for him from…time. In doing so, he would be able to make children tranquil and calm, take them out of stormy flow of life. The life thirst for his death to play with them like small ships in distress, and it is his mission only to admire rusty locks and blue eyes of his wife. That’s the true happiness.

In an effort to finish his plans, he, sitting on one of his stools, in a booth permeated with the smell of time itself, full of spoilt watch and clock. And very soon, he attained his goal: watch went backwards.

This watch manufactured by the skilled craftsman counted time out; it streamed like spring water between stones. Years mercilessly pushed months out; months did the same with weeks, and weeks – with days. Time went backwards. With every year passed, the watchmaker felt he was growing younger. With all his heart and soul, in each deed he sensed these miraculous changes, he felt as if he was twenty. The world around him became wonderful, longed-for, and he like a teenager wanted to cognize all joys and delights of this life. The more, the better. Not far from his shop there lived a young girl, delightful as early spring, and this girl aroused strange feelings. That year the girl entered a university, and every day she passed by his shop when going to and back from studies. He exactly knew when she would pass by, and he thirsted for this moment to come. Sometimes she came back late and ran near him ignoring to greet him. In these days he followed her with flaming eyes and crazy jealousy, and a noise of her heels reminded him of ticking.

His friends and relatives when dropping in at his shop to jest and kill time noticed that he changed very much, but they could understand what was happening to him. Even his wife was surprised. Her husband behaved like the days after wedding, kissed her incessantly, solicited her love again and again untiringly. In the morning she was in no position to get up even despite her duty to see children off to the school. She was satisfied when watching her husband dress himself to hurry to the work, and she was perplexed where he contrived to derive his strength from. Meanwhile, quiet recently he came home exhausted, and having supper immediately fell asleep on a sofa.

He went to work, but he gave his preference to younger friends, not older ones, he joked and debated with them.

However, it lasted not long. It was a death of a neighbor in a car crash that ruined everything. The funeral was held, it was cloudy and drizzling. All his neighbors and familiar went to the cemetery. While a mullah was busy with administering a ceremony, he looked over the gathering. A strange picture, an impression was that these were not different people, these were a single person. Despite different clothes, their faces were identical, yes, absolutely identical. Sorrow in their make-up blended with purity and chastity. It is impossible, absolutely impossible! That big-bellied man was a butcher, and his soul was the one of butcher. A person to the right was a profiteer, who traded in small things and called his work as business. He cheated in weighing and counting everybody. He cheated even himself taking a paper bag with sugar or rice home. And this one who stood by the profiteer…

He was glancing at them surprisingly. What was the mystery? Till today neither butcher, nor profiteer or anybody else had such blessed and lucid expression. Not only their faces! Even their deeds and intentions were far from purity. They had the mask on their faces like wrinkles on skin; hypocrisy and slyness left an ineffaceable imprint on their faces. But today in the proximity of the dead body, face to face to death on the threshold of the last asylum they as if purified, became immaculate. Perhaps, he was mistaken, and they were as immaculate today as before? No, it is impossible. It was this death that equalized and purified all of them with its grandeur and inevitability.

When the funeral was over, he was unpleasantly surprised. Purity and immaculacy on their faces disappeared, and all of them returned to their initial status. Heartlessness appeared on butcher’s face; profiteer’s face assumed a previous cunning expression; insidiousness on another’s and envy on next’. It is terrible, my God! The most intolerable thing is that he was doomed to live among this double-faced tribe henceforth. Why are people so improper? Why? The death is better. It would be better to die, for the death purifies, protects against ugliness and injustice of this world.

His hearth was ready to come out of the breast. He did not remember how he reached his shop. He again and again asked: Why are people so improper? Why? Why? His head was buzzing, his heart hammering in the breast. His heartbeat reminded ticking of his watch: from now on two watches incessantly ticked in the shop. And he confused his heartbeat with ticking of the watch he manufactured with his own hand. Why? - He cried again and swinging his arm he punched the watch into smithereens.

At the very same time, the ticking ceased the watch and the heart stooped simultaneously, this time for ever.

Baku 2001

Translated by Ali Efendiyev