13
THE DREAM
Translated by Nodira Azatova
I dreamt. My mother was walking with torch in her hand. I couldn‘t see
her face clearly but the lamp was shining dimly. ―Be careful, my son, there is
pothole…‖ she said constantly. I looked, but there was no pothole. When I
woke up, my mother had gone too.
Sometimes because of my work, sometimes of meetings or being with
my friends I came home late. One day guests had come from Namangan. They
did not agree to guest at home and they brought me to restaurant instead. I
lingered on restaurant till midnight. When I came home I was drunk. Mum
opened the gate. She was shivering as wet cat in cold weather.
- Why didn‘t you sleep hitherto? - I said with choler voice. – Don‘t we have
anybody else to open the door.
My mother smiled miserably.
- How could I sleep? I was sitting and waiting.
Next day I was also late because of being on duty at editorial office. I saw
the light of Mom‘s lamp again.
- Why didn‘t you sleep?
She smiled sadly again and said:
- You know, my dear son, I was sleepless.
I was dolt, I got into the way to my mother‘s sleeplessness and waiting for
me, despite I was used to gadding at midnight going back lately or at dawn, and
the glittering light of my mother‘s lamp.
Once when I saw off my Russian guests to the airport after work, I was late
because of delayed flight. When I came back home… everywhere was in dark
silence… All felt asleep…
I dreamt my mother walking with her lit lamp in her hand.
14
HAQQUSH
Do‗stlarim: ―Juda
siqilib ketdingiz, aylanib kelamiz‖, deb toqqa sudrashdi.
Allamahalgacha o‗tgan-ketgandan gaplashib o‗tirdik. Qiziq, har gal bosh ustiga bosib
tushgudek mag‗rur qad kerib turgan tog‗larni, ulkan novvot parchasidek qirrador
qoyalarni ko‗rganda hayot abadiy emasligini o‗ylayman. Qorong‗i
osmonda yana
ham qoraroq soyadek qilt etmay turgan bu qoyalar bizga о‗xshaganlarning necha-
nechasini ko‗rdi ekan?.. Faqat ularning tili yo‗q...
Kechasi tunagan joyimiz sovuq edi. Anchagacha uxlay olmadim.
Tashqarida
teraklar shitirlaydi. Qayerdadir, yaqin joyda daryo shovullaydi. Bir mahal qulog‗imga
dilni orziqtiruvchi mungli tovush chalindi: ―Haq-qu, haq-qu...‖ Bir zum sukunat
tushdi-da, ancha olisdan yana o‗sha tovush takrorlandi: ―Haq-qu, haq-qu...‖
Bola edim, go‗dak edim. Onam aka-ukalar haqida g‗alati bir cho‗pchak
aytib
bergan edi. Emishki, bir zamonlar ikki aka-uka yashagan ekan. Birining oti Ilhaq,
ikkinchisiniki Is‘hoq ekan. Ikkalasi bir-birini ko‗rarga ko‗zi yo‗q, juda noahil ekan.
Ularninng ko‗nglini olaman, deb ikki o‗rtada onalari adoyi tamom bo‗pti.
Shunda
qodir Xudoning qahri kelibdi-yu, ikkovining ham ko‗zini ko‗r qilib, qushga aylantirib
qo‗yibdi. Shundagina aka-uka bir-birini ko‗rmasa turolmasligini,
bir-biriga kerak
ekanligini tushunibdi. O‗shandan beri ikkalasi kechalari bo‗zlab bir-birini chaqirib
chiqisharmish-u topolmas emish...
Tashqarida hamon terak barglari shitirlaydi. Daryo shovullaydi.
Mana shu
shovullagan sukunat ichida dilni titratadigan iztirobli nido yangraydi: ―Ilhaq!
Is‘hoq!..‖
Bechora onam! O‗sha iztirobli afsonani aytayotganingda inidan mo‗ralagan
qaldirg‗och bolasidek ko‗rpadan bosh chiqarib yotgan besh bolang bir-biri bilan inoq
bo‗lishini shunchalik xohlaganmiding!
...Onalar farzandlari hamisha birga bolishini istaydilar. Qismat esa ularni qanot
chiqarishi bilan har yoqqa uchirib ketadi. Hayot loaqal
shu masalada ham onalarga
shafqat qilmaydi.
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