Accompanied by his true fellow traveler Koldybai mullah Zhackyrshan set off to auls “Tort-tube” – “Four Hills” – to levy a usual tribute.
These auls are rich. They even have their own mosk. Each year Zhackyrshan-mullah slips there in. He beats all the houses for and misses nobody. In a month he returns as if having some bride-money: drives thirty-forty heads of cattle along.
Kaldybai is some kind of mullah’s flunky. They are of the same age, old fellows and banders. But it must be said that it does not stop them teasing each other and sometimes even quarrel. However they do not quarrel seriously. They do not have a grievance and spite against each other.
But in front of people’s eyes they behave absolutely in a different way. Mullah has a pious air of detachment. He wears a turban on his head, a large white wadded chapan on his shoulders, his eyelids are humbly dropped to the bottom, and mullah seems to dream sunk into his godly thoughts. Kaldybai tiptoes around him and catches every movement of his spiritual advisor.
- Taksyr, - he says oilily, - it is just time for namaz. Would you like to go through the ceremony of abdest?
And then deft Kaldybai gives mullah kumgan, spreads out a prayer rug – shai-namaz, and holds out a subha. With a harsh impenetrable air on the face Zhackyrshan drops on his knees, opens the black book and starts muttering. From time to time he says plainly:
- Iya, al-la-a!..
And each time after hearing such Zhackyrshan’s shout Kaldybai shudders reverently…
All the people respect Zhackyrshan and Kaldybai in auls “Tort-tube”.
- So young but make wholly a commitment service of god, - they admire Zhackyrshan.
- He cannot distinguish black from white but he has been able to find a right partner for himself, – they say about Kaldybai.
When Zhackyrshan-mullah comes, respectable elders and affluent rich men gather around him – fat napes of the auls – “Tort-tube”. They escort him around the auls and yourts, peep in his mouth and behave in all like an obedient cortege.
Zhackyrshan tells insipiently aul-inhabitants moral parables from the Scripture: speaks about righteous in the paradise and about sinners in the hell, about great Acts of the prophet’s Apostles, about Muhammed-paigamara’s follow-ups.
- Oh, my heaven honey sweet! – Kaldybai is thrilled.
And when mullah starts speaking about judgment and coming Judgment Day the eyes of touched elders begin watering and their chops begin shivering.
- Taksyr! Tell us, what is the sense of sacrifice? – Kaldybai asks respectably.
- Sacrifices soften the God’s wrath, open Pearly Gates and turn into emergency exit in the Judgment Day, - mullah replies.
- Uai, uai! How very powerful and benevolent our kudai1 is! – Somebody confirms without doubt.
Then while coming back with a full rich bag from “Tort-tube” auls mullah Zhackyrshan and Kaldybai threap all the way.
1God.
- My liver-chestnut filly! – “Murid” insists.
- Eh, don’t be so foolish! It is my cattle but not yours. I have blessed indeed!
The mullah’s long nose starts turning pale and spiring. Kaldybai’s face fungus stares skittishly and he rolls his eyes.
- Knock it off – mine! Forget it, Zhackyrshan! – He roars dreadfully.
- Why?
- Why do you muzzle me with your blessing? What is the use of it, of your nonsense? If it were the good of your prayers people themselves would drive their cattle to your place. And now together run about and together procure by sweat of our brow. It means we have even rakes-off. I have even more deserts, for the matter of that!
Zhackyrshan-mullah’s face covers with spots, the lips begin shivering, he starts gasping with rage. At this moment he hates Kaldybai as a bad dog. The devil tempted him to have deal with him and schlepp him everywhere.
- What a fool you are! Bonehead! It was I who had got this liver-chestnut filly for the service in remembrance of the dead Ulbolsyn. It was I who had read Koran! It was I who had recited the requiem! Lity for the death – also I!..
Kaldybai does not listen to. He knows very well what mullah Zhackyrshan wants to say. Having heeled the horse Kaldybai bunches disorderly straggling cattle in a close tabun. Some time they go keeping silent. Suddenly Kaldybai’s face grows light like the sun peeping out from the clouds.
- Hey, Zhackyrshan, you are dead to shame! Why do you decry my work? Remember just that night, ah! It cost one dear without speaking about the other!
Kaldybai snaps his eyes shut of sweet memories.
- Ah, booby! – Zhackyrshan feeling highly honoured smiles.
The both momentary change, drive the cattle with gusto along the way, shriek with laughter being glad with each other.
- Yes, you have distinguished yourself that time! – Kalybai admires.
The clouds of recent dislike pass into nothingness.
- And then you helped me very much! – Thankful mullah replies generously.
***
Alimbai’s winter hut is situated near Archala. In spring the aul wanders to dshailyau and the wintering is empty, overgrown with mat grass and weed. Only poor man Konka watches the wintering but by old habit he lives somewhere on the outskirts, closer to a lonely steppe road.
His own reddish cow with the stub of a horn constantly grasses at his black hut. Konka’s wife – Kalampyr, - dragging after a curve pole drives away the cudster in the steppe abusing and cursing it up hill and down dale.
- Uh! Why are you grassing at the house all day long? – She says, - bad creature! Because of you it is impossible to let the calf grass. And when I do it, so it sucks out all your milk. Pest on you!
Konka lying on the bedding says lazily:
- Get a cramp in your chops, stupid callet! What will we do if it bellies up?..
Paddling lazily in the spinning Konka’s daughter Kanysh is bored in the shadow. Her fingers run habitual in spinning but her thoughts are far away. She misses the neighbours, her friends, and her aul. She misses noisy jolly life in her crowded aul during a winter six months long. What a dear thing is for Kanysh severe winter that clasps the whole world in its icy palm! In winter you can have fun with your herd mates. You can go to play or visit tois.
And summer with its green wild grasses full of smells, with close lingering nights – what for does alone Kanysh need these all? She wishes her friends and herd mates were together with these all! But now she sits in the shadow from the morning till the evening and thinks, thinks, black-eyed!
The host is also heartily sick of his lonely poor hut. He fiercely gravitates to dshailyau. At night he sees lakes in his dreams overgrown with silky cotton boll and sparkling tart kumis in the cups. His soul suffers, pines and soon he is not already able to manage his melancholy, and then he suddenly grasps his white staff and sets off on foot to the desired summering. Of course, Kalampyr grumbles:
- You think only about yourself! And what will I be doing here with the girl? I will watch the graves, will I? You wish us to drop of the hooks here! Us to be cut by someone?!
The wife grumbles and mumbles but when Konka disappears after the passage anxiety creeps in her heart. It is not so easy to go forty miles in such a heat! He will die from thirst, he will drop from tiredness, - she thinks.
***
There passed about five days since Konka had set off to dshailyau. Disturbed and afeared Kanysh and Kalampyr do not close their eyes all the night. Scaring monsters, jinns and peris from the tales seem to them. It seems that demons are raging at the deserted wintering, they roar blackguardly and throw bunches of flame into each other in the wilds of weeds. In such a way her daughter not to hear Kalampyr mumbles to herself the fragments of remembered prayers. All her body is shivering but she tries to hide the fear not to scare Kanysh.
And Kanysh does not sleep too but not because of fear at all. She is thinking about her life, about different simple adventures, about desired friend, about kinsfolk in Satpai’s house.
That was an unforgettable evening. There gathered girls and dzhigits from the whole aul. There were so many people – there was left no place to step. It became hot and close. The lamp glowed darkly threatening to go out. Sweat dropped over the faces but the youth wiped with a towel and did not stop playing.
- Now then, sister, give here your palm! – Merry fellow Ahmetbek moved to Kanysh. He had a braided belt in his hands. He took a wide swing as if he wanted to lash her palms hammer and tongs but at this a smile wandered on his face.
Kanysh roared playfully with laughter:
- Ta-ke pi-ty! Just not very strong.
Then somebody proposed:
- Let’s begin a new game!
- What kind of?
- A song along the circle!
The dombra went from hands to hands. It came to Ahmetbek. He tried to held it more handy and more gracefully. He rolled the pegs, turned up the catguts. He cleared his throat, tried his voice. The voice sounded some griffish. Young people spoke, joked and were self-absorbed. Kanysh was offended by their coldness. She froze with admiration when she heard:
To the steppe lake the auls wandered
At the lake lovers dreamt about love
When you, darling, made a date
The clouds of the grief disappeared in the heart.
And still now thinking about Ahmetbek she constantly heard his voice and this song. Kanysh seemed that the last two lines were aimed only at her alone…
The fire went out in the oblong ashy stove – sher-oshak. The sky was covered with a black blanket. Myriads of stars winking gemmed the sky. The night got everybody drowsy sank into dream.
Soon there heard the drumming patter of hoofs on the road. Sholdiayak barked shortly but became silent at once. There heard a hushed conversation. Kalampyr and Kanysh kept their ears open.
- Alyrmai, wanderers perhaps?
- I wish them to make an overnight stop at our place, - Kanysh whispered frightenedly.
Sholdiayak started barking again. The wanderers came up. They could see only dim shapes of two riders through the grating. One of them cried:
- Uai, is anybody in?
- We are at home! – Kalampyr replied gladly.
The riders tied the rains to the pommel of the saddle, dismounted the horses and came into the hut. They greeted. Kalampyr asked:
- Who are you?
- You must have heard about mullah Zhackyrshan, must not you? It is he! – One of them answered.
Kalampyr was unspeakably glad. She ran to the fireplace to make the fire, cook dinner but the guests positively refused the treat having said that they were very tired and wanted just to sleep.
They lit a splinter. By its uncertain light the hostess spread an old palace on the place of honour but she did not have any pillows and blankets and confused Kalampyr apologized to the guests.
- Oibai, shenge, do not worry. We are grateful for what you have; - Kaldybai said and stretched out on the palace without taking off his clothes but having turned sideways Kalampyr.
The hut of poor man Konka was clearly two-by-twice for four people.
- Shengey, we are lying to close to each other. If I fall into dream, don’t be angry, - Kaldybai joked trying to fall asleep.
The mother and the daughter care-worn by the sleepless nights felt asleep at once. Kaldybai elbowed Zhackyrshan.
- Hey, are you sacking out?
- No, I am not.
- Then go. Go on hands and knees!
- Then she will start crying, awake the mother…
- Do not worry! I will make short work of her mother somehow with God’s help.
Zhackyrshan-mullah kept head down as if he was praying and went on hands and knees.
- Eh, who is this, who is this? Mu-u-um! Kanysh cried out frightenedly.
Kalampyr awaked but she did not have any time to realize what had happened when Kalybai having grasped her arms dragged her out from the hut.
- Shut up, shengey! Hush! Come on with me! I have a conversation…
When dawn hardly broke, Zhackyrshan and Kaldybai went on their way. Kalampyr and Kanysh dishonoured and scared the daylights out of cried heart out in the lonely hut on the road.
***
Kaldybai and Zhackyrshan are sitting in the pub of the settlement. The table is laden with bottles. The fellows were all aglow with delight. It was clear that they were feasting for a long time.
- So, what? Let’s take a sup of some schnaps?! – Kaldybai winks.
- Ah, I do not know, - mullah smiles. – Well, we are going to the aul. And schnaps – it is violent…
- Do not worry. We will sleep off by the way. It does not hurt us after the roaring night…
Kaldybai giggles. Mullah pushes a glass to him.
- Eh, booby! Ok! Now I am pleased with you. Come on, tip off once more.
Mullah reaches into his pocket to get out the kerchief to wipe the sweat on his forehead but instead of kerchief he pulls out the subha long like a thin intestine and drops it into his glass with schnaps. “Astapyralla!” – mullah mumbles and pushes the subha again into the pocket. The fellows drink and share the details of their yesterday’s night love affairs.
With the sunset the cattle returns from the pasturage and pigs straggle grunting from time to time. At the house under the red roof in the middle of settlement sheep, goats, cows with ears erect fight shy of either from fright or from abhorrence. Here in two steps from the pub respectable mullah and his true “murid” have fallen down their snoops plump into the mud. As distinct from the other cattle, pigs do not flight shy of the fellows lying in dust. They busily nuzzle their snoots in senseless Zhackyrshan-mullah and only then squeamishly wrinkling go away homeward. Only a red scabby he-dog came up and licked mullah’s holy mouth…
1928
