Zulfiyaqurolboyqizi zulfiya kurolboy kizi

Muharrir:ZulfiyaPardaeva
Editor: Zulfiya Pardaeva


Musahhih:AnoraJabborova
Corrector: Anora Zhabborova
O‘zbekistonYozuvchilaruyushmasiJizzaxviloyatbo‘limitomonidannashrgatavsiyaetildi. 2021.
Recommended for publication by the Jizzakh regional branch of the Union of Writers of Uzbekistan. 2021.

ZULFIYA'S literary abilities.

About Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi.
Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi was born on September 17, 1966 in Jizzakh region.She graduated from Jizzakh Pedagogical Institute in 1989.Over the years, she has taught at the school, working for various central newspapers.She currently works as an editor at the «Yoshlik» film studio.
Member of the Writers' Union of Uzbekistan since 2013.She has published about ten books.In particular, “Death is nothing”, “Ancient song” collection of stories (“Uzbekistan” publishing house), “Whirlpool of hardships” (G. Gulom publishing house), “Captive of dreams” (“Yangi asr avlodi” publishing house), “Hard lifetracks ” (New Book Publishing House).Her works have been translated into Russian, Korean and Bulgarian.In 2010, at the Uzbekfilm studio, director Abdukhalil Mignarov made a feature film based on the story of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, "Lightning Strikes at Night."In 2011, Uzbekfilm produced the feature film “Summer Without Year” (directed by Hotam Fayziev) based on the screenplay by Zulfiya Kurolboy qizi, and in 2014, the feature film “Er Tafti” (“Dilor, Dilor, dil va or”) (directed by Shuhrat Abbasov and Nozim Abbasov) was made. In 2012, the Uzbektelefilm studio shot the series "Fidoyilar" based on the script of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi.Based on the poems of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, the Uzbek State Drama Theater staged "Woman", and the Syrdarya Regional Musical Drama and Comedy Theater staged "Tafakkur". She has married. She has got four children.

A new era has begun in the annals of Uzbek literature.Due to the specificity of this period, it is safe to call it the literature of the National Revival period.The reforms being carried out in our country are primarily aimed at shaping the human spirit, worldview and aspirations on the basis of universal principles while preserving the national spirit.The President of Uzbekistan Sh.M.Mirziyoyev stated that "... attention to literature and art, culture is, first of all, attention to our people, attention to our future."
Talented girls with their own voices, such as Nigina Niyaz, Salomat Vafo, Jamila Ergasheva, Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, Khosiyat Rustamova, entered the Uzbek literature of the new period. Today, we often use the phrase “burned in literature” for active artists. Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, an Uzbek writer of the 21st century, is among those burned. In Zulfiya's works, a woman shows her grief, anxiety, joy and sorrow. Most of Zulfiya's "women" are hard-working women who carry the burden of the family and claim to have their own role in their life".
It is no exaggeration to say that Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, who is causing a lot of controversy and debate among literary critics and readers today, has started a new principle in Uzbek prose. Zulfiya's novels "Life", "Angel of Evil", "Death is nothing", "Ancient song" and novels "Captive of Hope", "Whirlpool of Troubles" are among the works that expand the possibilities of Uzbek prose. The works of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi cannot be interpreted and analyzed in a one-sided way. Each work is an artistic discovery. You get excited to read. But you can’t finish reading one story and move on to another. You live the life of the heroes of the story.
Zulfiya's works require new scientific thinking. Uzbek literary critic Kazakboy Yuldashev, in his article “Great Achievements in the Small Genre”, praises the works of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi: . The most memorable stories of 2001 were Salomat Vafo's "Forgotten Woman", Zulfiya Kurolboy's "Woman", "Oh, Life". In "Oh, Life" man is portrayed in new situations. Until now, it has not been shown in Uzbek literature from such a perspective.
Literary critic Kazakboy Yuldashev noted that the daughter of writer Zulfiya Kurolboy was able to revive the desire to live with great skill. The old man, who is deaf, deaf, blind, unable to walk or move his hands, is pleased with his life, the world of a cell on one side, the old man Nazar, who wants to live a little longer, is physically tired, and does not want to live spiritually. Involuntarily, the prophecy in the novel "A Hundred Years of Loneliness" comes to mind - the older generation will spend their lives dependent on the tree. What is the purpose of living? You ask yourself.
“Even when the image is called Nazar, there is a reference to his own point of view, the absurdity of the image of Sisyphus, the writer through the old man Nazar, the process of descending to bring the stone up again and again, through the seemingly absurd idea that life itself is human life. both Sisyphus and Nazar the Elder, who have absorbed new ideas about the meaning of inclusion, have their own meaning as images that understand the essence of human life in the midst of eternal meaninglessness. It is more important for them to understand that ignorance, indifference, and living without understanding the world is a tragedy than to live forever, ”said the researcher M. Jo'raeva.
Well-known literary critic Khurshid Dostmuhammad compares Adiba's artistic skills with those of Salomat Vafo. "... relatives say to each other, 'He died the day before, and he'll die the next day,'" he said. While the analysis of the poetics of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi's stories shows a synthesis of different methods in the writer's style, the breadth of the writer's artistic thinking, his observations show that she is rich in philosophical and artistic language. “It is pointless and completely pointless to cover all forms of literature under one name at all times: only when the life of human society is studied historically will the significance of literature in different periods become clear. However, it is not possible to add such general clarity: similar cases in different periods are sometimes relevant to the literature, and sometimes not.
Here we would like to draw your attention to the critic Abduvali Eshqobil's "Read your story or an open letter to Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi": “Sister Zulfiya! I really liked your story "Woman". For a long time He has never read prose in Uzbek since I would. "Woman" is created in the style of neo-romanticism. Maybe someone buffer disagree, but the spirit of romanticism is more than realism in the play predominates. After all, that’s how the protagonist is in life more than likely, the author would try to do the same to him wants more. This is the first sign of romance. ... works the novelty of the subject and the details, motifs skillfully used in it a lot, special; high refined taste and artistic-aesthetic from the style of expression ability blows. ... You are the first in Uzbek storytelling on the topic of "feminine death" (if I’m not mistaken, of course) art as a new subject consumed, Zulfiya opa. So you are into our national literature You have made a worthy contribution. ”
The remarkable thing about this letter is that the critic not only reacts to Zulfiya Kurolboy's story "Woman", but also speaks objectively about today's Uzbek literature: However, starting from our folklore, every sample of our classical or modern literature needs poetic-structural and other analyzes. Unfortunately, these and other relatively new methods of analysis, which have been repeatedly and repeatedly emphasized in many scientific works, are not used in practice. Therefore, it would be expedient to study the poetics of the works of Zulfiya Kurolboy qizi, who combined the synthesis of principles and methods in her work, such as realism, romanticism, modernism, postmodernism, mysticism, on the basis of systematic literary analysis.
Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi is one of the most talented writers in modern Uzbek literature, who portrays the image of a woman as the protagonist in almost all of her works. Almost all of her protagonists are women around us - ordinary, humble, sometimes unlucky, helpless, thirsty for mercy, lost in the twists and turns of fate. The writer does not look for the causes of how such situations arise, but merely describes exactly those situations. Such an open description is one of the artistic features of "rigid realism" observed in the works of mature writers in world literature, such as Chingiz Aitmatov. Each of his stories contains extraordinary findings, melodies that involuntarily attract the reader. Each woman in the stories of Zulfiya Kurolboy's daughter is depicted with unique lines. The protagonist of the story "The sun is on my side" is a beautiful, at first glance very simple, very confident woman who lives only for her family and children. She always says my home, my family, my children, but forgets that she is a woman, she expects her husband to bring her more money, not love, because her life is not prosperous, there are many shortcomings. The story begins: “The woman was late in the day with anxiety. The only thought in his mind was, "What if he came without money today?"She gave half a bowl of onion soup to his children, who said, "I'm hungry." This soup was invented by the woman herself and gave a strange name: "Shameless soup!" A woman who is tormented by the difficulties of life sometimes does not pay attention when her husband does not come home, believing her lies. The husband, on the other hand, masters the simplicity of the woman. “I’m working, wife. I'm working. What’s the point of going to work late every day, coming back early, and sitting in front of you? Maybe I’m pregnant? Maybe I was dragging a car! ” She is willing to do both street vending and doing someone else’s work in order to fix the shortcomings in a beautiful home. No matter how hard a woman tries, her marriage will not go well. Eventually the woman's cup of patience fills up. She senses that her husband is cheating on another woman and asks her husband for an explanation, but she is driven into the street by her husband and also loses her children in the middle of the two. The husband, who has fallen into the trap of a betaine woman, easily abandons Beauty, accusing his wife of adultery and slandering her. Surprisingly, he convinces others of this as well. One day, a woman who has lost both her family, her children, and her honor will be stunned by the blows of fate. The hypocrisy, deceit, and cruelty of the people completely break the psyche of the Beauty. The woman is completely unconscious. As you read the story, the question, "Who is the real culprit in this tragedy?"
When you think about the unfortunate fate of a beauty, you wonder if she is to blame for this tragedy. Her husband Rustam could give her the pleasure and peace that she could not find in her family, not only other women, but also the Beauty herself! The writer portrays the woman as resilient, patient, but simple and carefree. The thematic content of the stories of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi is colorful. The creative protagonists are the people you and I know who have tried to interpret their lives in concise forms. Creative works are a gallery of female images. In the story "Pictures of a time of stagnation", the image of a woman is depicted with inner pain, burning. In this story, the images of Isak Chol, Zilay Biycha, Bekpolat, Malika are vivid, convincing, artistically mature. The events of "Stopped time" take place during the winter chill in the house of old Isak. Isaac convincingly describes the daily life of the old man and his family. This in turn helps the student to imagine rural life. For example: According to the village custom, a new bride is not allowed to do menial work for two or three months. Maybe they don't want it to be "dirty" right away. That's why the eldest daughter-in-law, Norbuvi, takes her eleven-year-old daughter with her and does the housework, which doesn't bother the bride and groom very often. Norbuvi did not hesitate when the princess obeyed the pleas of the tribe and took her home. It is clear from this quote that the writer tried to convincingly describe the lifestyle of the Uzbek bride.
Zulfiya Kurolboy's story "Pictures of a Stopped Time" emphasizes that a person never stops, but to enrich his spiritual world as much as possible and improve his intellectual potential on the basis of life experiences and spiritual heritage, which is the artistic idea of ​​the work. The author's story "Victim of Loneliness" will impress any reader. No matter who a person is, no matter what nationality he belongs to, he cannot live alone. Aunt Tamara, the protagonist, is left alone after the death of her husband, Ulfat aka, in a deserted two-room house that looks like a cage-like cage where parrots are kept. Aunt Tamara, who did not drink wine alone when she was with her husband, did not go out with her neighbors, had few relatives, but did not have a warm relationship with them, began to feel lonely. when she does, this offer frightens Aunt Tamara's heart. The worries of dressing, grooming, educating, marrying a child do not want to disturb her current peaceful life. The skill of the writer is that the tragedy of a lonely woman is described in an antithetical way. Aunt Tamara, who ran away from her relatives, preferred her belongings to human beings, or at least did not build her life properly despite her old age, gives the jealous rats a jealous love from the people around her, and they become female cousins.
The thief, who was watching Aunt Tamara, overnight loaded Aunt Tamara's belongings into the car and even dropped her down and took the bed. Just as he leaves, he sprinkles marjoram into the room. One rat after another is also extinct. Neighbors don't even know that Aunt Tamara, who was bitten by rats, died and her house was burglarized. Admittedly, Zulfiya Kurolboy's daughter's style is colorful, each story amazes the reader with a new theme, a unique interpretation, completely different protagonists. The artistic psychological interpretation, mystical plot, romantic situations, realistic images typical of the author's stories ensure that the works are educated.
Each work is born as a product of the creative artistic and aesthetic world. Uzbek writers also have a special place in the literary process, where "women's prose" has a phenomenal significance in world literature. An example of this is the work of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, who can compete with writers from around the world in the field of artistic skills. Every work of the writer is a world, each hero is individual, the language of the work is unique. In the works of Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, a woman's destiny, a woman's past, her desires and aspirations are reflected. In every image of destiny, a woman's point of view, a woman's value, becomes clear. She does not lift a woman to the heavens for her cracked hands and heels, nor does she ask her to be loved for her slave-like devotion. At any given time, the question of style arises as each writer seeks to interpret man more perfectly. Because style also expresses a writer’s artistic skill. We took the opportunity to write an article about the colorful style used in the stories of Zulfiya Kurolboy's daughter. Every work of Uzbek writer Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi, which has a special place in the modern world "women's prose", deserves attention and recognition.
The stories published in this small collection, we think, can show the English-speaking reader the artistic skills of the Uzbek writer Zulfiya Kurolboy kizi.We would like to thank for this our young translator student Zarina Saidova .

Zulfiya Pardaeva

doctor of philological sciences, professor


AYOL

Devorlarioppoqxona.

Derazaoynasidanto‘kilayotganoppoqnurayolningyuzidajilvaqildi, yumuqqovoqlariniqizartirdi, yonoqlarigailinganmarvaridtomchilaridavabarmoqlaridagiuzukningolmosko‘zchalaridaaksetdi.
Ayolko‘zlarinixiyolochdi. SHu’laendiuningqorachiqlaridaakslandi.
“Qandayyoqimli... Tiriklikningyanabirtongiotdi, – ayolko‘zlariniyumib, quyoshnurlarinisimirdi, keyinyanaohistapichirladi: – Seniqanchalikyaxshiko‘ramanquyosh!..”
Quyoshnurlarinimo‘l-ko‘lto‘kdi. Ayolbutkuloftobnurigag‘arqbo‘ldi...

KeyingihaftasurunkasigaNazokatningharoratiko‘tarilib, tushibturdi...

DavolovchishifokorSHavkatnixonasigachaqirdi.
– Nazokatningahvoliyaxshiemas. Hozirligingizniko‘ravering.
SHavkatboshinichangallabqoldi.
– Og‘irbo‘ling. Bo‘shashmang. Haliuko‘pazobtortishimumkin. Bularhaliholva... – do‘xtirjimibqoldi.
SHavkatilkisboshiniko‘tardi.
– Nahotki... SHunchaqiynalganietmaydimi?..
– Ko‘pazobturibdioldinda, – dedido‘xtir, so‘ngmahzunlikbilanxayrlashdi.
SHavkatkasalxonahovlisidaanchavaqtaylanibyuribkeyinpalatagakirdi. Nazokatuxlabyotardi. Ujudaozibketgandi. Qovoqlariichgabotgan, yonoqsuyaklariturtibchiqqan, lablariningchetidachuqurchapaydobo‘lgan, chekkatomirlariko‘m-ko‘kbo‘libbo‘rtibturardi.
Dunyodagibarchakasalliklargala’nato‘qidiSHavkat.
Nazokattikilibturgannigohlarnihisetdishekilli, astako‘zlariniochdi.
– YAxshimisan?..
– Tuzuk, – o‘rnidanqo‘zg‘aldiNazokat. – Hovligachiqibkelsammi, devdim.
SHavkatungaqo‘liniuzatdi.
– Halikuchimbor, o‘zimyuraolaman, – dediNazokatg‘alatiqarab.
SHavkatbeixtiyorchuqurxo‘rsindi.
Ularhovligachiqishdi.
– Do‘xtirsizgabirbalolarnivaysaganshekilli, – dediNazokattashqarigachiqqanlaridankeyineriningqovoqlarisalqigan, kayfiyatsizyuzigazimdantikilgancha. – Lekinularyanglishyaptilar. Aft-angorimgaqarang, yaxshilabqarang, menyaqin-o‘rtadao‘ladiganodamgao‘xshaymanmi? O‘zimniharqachongidanyaxshiroqhisetyapman. YAshashuchunbundanortiqyananimabo‘lishikerak? – Ayolyurishdanto‘xtadi. Havosovugan, osmondauvadabulutlarkezinar, quyoshxiraginanursochar, qorninghidikelardi. – Menoynagaboqib, qayta-qaytatikildimo‘zimga, o‘ladiganodamningyuzibunaqabo‘lmaydi. Sizhameshitganmisizshugapni?
– Ha, eshitganman, – dediSHavkatshubhagao‘rinqoldirmaydiganohangda.
– Ana, ko‘rdingizmi, – Nazokatningallaqandayichkinurdanyuziyorishdi. Unariroqboribkungayerdaturdi, ayolningqorachiqlaridaolovakslandi. – Haliyamhavobulut, – dediu, –yorug‘liktiniqemas. Buhavoodamningranginiochmaydi, bo‘g‘ibqo‘yadi!
Haqiqatanhamochiqhavodauningyuzidakasalliknuqsisezilmas, egnigato‘kilganupag‘ubori, havogataralayotganyoqimlihiduningo‘zigaoroberganinibildiribturardi.
Birdankutilmaganholyuzberdi. NazokatyuguribkelibSHavkatningquchog‘igao‘ziniotdi. Avvallarihechhambundayqilmasdi.
– Bizfaqater-xotinemas, undanhamyaqinroqbo‘libketganmiz, a, dadasi? – dediueriningko‘ksigayuzinibosib.
SHavkatkuchliharoratnivako‘zyoshlarnituydi. Uqimiretolmayqoldi.
SHavkatnimadirdeyishni, xotininingko‘ngliniko‘tarishniistadi, ammotiliaylanmadi. Ko‘ksidanbeixtiyoryanaog‘irxo‘rsiniqotilibchiqdi.
Nazokateriningyuzidano‘pdi, avaylab, nazokatbilano‘pdi. SHavkatningtanasigatitroqkirdi. Xotininingqovjiraganlablariissiqedi. YUziissiqedi. Nafasiissiqedi. YUzigategibturgansochlaridan-dahovursachrayotgandekedi.
– Senganimabo‘ldi?.. – deyaoldiSHavkat.
Nazokatjilmaydi. Birvaqtlardagiday... Ammobukulguemas, og‘riq, armonto‘lashodmonlikedi.
SHavkatunibag‘rigabosdi, nigohlariniyashirdi. Nazokatningyuzigaqarashgaortiqbardoshietmadi.
– Manako‘rasiz, ikki-uchkuno‘tsin, yanaavvalgidaybo‘libketaman. SHundaybo‘lishiniko‘nglimsezibturibdi, – shivirladiNazokat.
SHavkatningko‘zigadunyoqorong‘ubo‘libketdi.

KechasiNazokatningyanaissig‘iko‘tarildi. Alahsiradi. Bolalariniso‘radi.

SHavkatnavbatchivrachnichaqirdi. UkoldankeyinNazokattinchlanibuxlabqoldi.
Ertalabodatdagidayvaqtliuyg‘ondi.
– Qattiquxlabqopman-a? – debuso‘radiallanarsadanhadiksiragandekbo‘lib.
– CHarchagansan, – dediSHavkat.
– Radioninimagao‘chiribqo‘ydingiz?
– Sengatinchlikkerak. Do‘xtiraytdi.
– Menatayradioniyoqibqo‘ygandim. G‘ing‘illabtursaqattiquxlabqolmayman...
– Bugunhamhavojudayaxshi, hovligachiqasanmi? YOzgaham, kuzgahamo‘xshamaydisira, – dediSHavkat.
– CHiqaman, albatta. Ertalabkitozahavoniyaxshiko‘raman.
Nazokatadyolniustidanolibtashlab, oyoqlarinikaravotdanpastgatushirdi. Birdanoyoqlarigako‘zitushganayolningyuzio‘zgaribketdi. Ikkalaoyog‘ihamshishib, po‘rsillabturardi. Birkechada-ya...
– Keyinroqchiqarman... – Nazokatbo‘shashganchao‘ringacho‘zildi. Oyoqlariustigaadyolnitashladi.
– Nonushtanishuergaolibkelaqolay. Ikkalamizo‘tiribchoyichamiz, keyinbolalardan, ishdanxabarolaman, – dediSHavkatxotininingbirdanavzoyio‘zgarganidantaajjublanganinisezdirmay.
– Mayli...
SHavkatg‘ildiraklistoldanonushtaolibkeldi. Nazokatoyoqlariniadyolbilano‘rabo‘tiribchoyichdi...
KechgaboribNazokatboldirlarihamshishib, ko‘pchibturganiniko‘rdi. Uninghafsalasipirbo‘libketdi. Kechasiyanaisitmatutdi.
Ertasigasaharuyg‘onganidaqorinqismidaallaqandayg‘ashnikeltiruvchiog‘irliknituydi. Qoqsuyakqo‘liniqorniustigaqo‘ydi-yu, shuzahotitortiboldi. SHishendiqoringao‘tgan, uoshganxamirdayko‘pchibturardi.
– Do‘xtir! – qichqiribyubordiNazokat. Lekinbunio‘zisezmadi.
Salobatlikeksado‘xtir, uningketidanozg‘inhamshiraichkarigakirishdi.
– Qalaysiz, qizim, isitmabezovtaqilmayaptimiendi? – taburetkagao‘tirdido‘xtir.
Nazokatmahzunjilmaydi, ko‘zlariningostidaajing‘ujumipaydobo‘ldi.
– YAxshiman.
– Haroratinio‘lchang, – dedido‘xtirhamshiragaqarab. KeyinyanaNazokatgayuzlandi. – Mendagapingizborekan. Eshitaman, qizim.
– SHishmasalasida... – Nazokatgapirolmayqoldi.
– Xo‘sh.
– Qorniimdayanasuvto‘planganshekilli? Qarang... SHusuyuqlikninghammasinibirdanoldirsam, shishqaytadimi?.. – Nazokatningko‘zlarig‘iltilladi.
– SHishqaytadi, – dedido‘xtirvazminlikbilan. – Lekinmenimcha... Sizgado‘xtirsifatidaemas, oddiybirodam, otangizqatoribirodamsifatidaaytadiganbo‘lsam... bunimaslahatbermayman.
– Nega?
– Endi... shunisima’qul... – Do‘xtirnigohlariniqaergayashirishnibilmasdi.
– Bugaljudayamqiyinbo‘lsakerak-a? Qattiqazobtortsamkerak. Qaysidirpalatadabirayolkechadanberichinqiribyotibdi-yu, shungao‘xshab. Lekinbuniqarang, qornimsoatsayinkattalashibketyapti. Hademaydo‘mbiradaybo‘libqolsakerak. Menbundayxunukalfozda... – Nazokatyuzinidevortomongaburdi. YOstiqnamtortdi.
Tog‘daydo‘xtirbirdankichrayibqolgandekhisetdio‘zini.
– Tushunibturibman... – dedibirozdankeyinovozixirillab. – Bizkeraginioldiksuyuqlikning... Ammoortiqchaazobningnimakeragibor?
– Mayli, menchidayman... – dediNazokattersqarabyotganko‘yi. – Hammasigachidayman.
Do‘xtiro‘rnidanturdi. Nazokatjonholatdado‘xtirningqo‘lidanushladi.
– Bilaman, ozqolganinibilaman. Lekinbundayxunukalfozdao‘lishniistamayman. Istamayman!..
Do‘xtirqo‘liniavaylabtortibolib, xonadanchiqdi...
Tun.
SHavkattezdauxlabqoldi. AmmoNazokatyotaolmadi. Uoyoqlarigailashganengilko‘rpaninarisurib, qiynchilikbilantizzalariniquchoqlaganchato‘shakustidao‘tirmoqchibo‘ldi, ammobunoqulayedi. To‘g‘rirog‘ijudao‘ng‘aysizedi. Xipchabelidaosilibturganyoqimsizog‘irliko‘tirishgaxalaqitberardi. Ayolo‘rnidanturibderazaoldigakeldi. Uninguyqusio‘chgan, butunolamninigohlaribilanqamrab, ungajoylabolmoqchidek, ochiqderazadanunsizosmongatikilar, hayratomuzmanzaradandongqotardi. Zerobuvaqtdahad-hududsizosmonnurafshon, tillarangyog‘dugag‘arqbo‘libyotardi. Ufqtepasidaosilibturganoy, jimir-jimirqilayotganyulduzlaryaqinlashibkelayotgantonggao‘rinbermaslikka, asta-sekinxiratortib, so‘nibyo‘qbo‘libketmaslikkatirishayotgandayyanadayorqinroqjilvaqilishardi.
Tunvatongo‘rtasidakeskinkurashketayotganbirvaqtdaborliqdateransukunathukmsurardi. Ayolbutunjismujoniquloqqaaylaniballaqandayeshitilmastovushlarga, sirliohanglargag‘arqbo‘ldi, oynuridayaltirayotganyaproqlarningsehrlititrog‘inihisetdi... Keyinchuqurnafasolibo‘pkasinitozahavobilanto‘ldirdi. Lablariniqattiqqimtib, nafaschiqarmayturdi.
Asta-sekinborliqqakumushrangoqimyoyildi. Qushlarchah-chahlabyubordi...
Nazokatchuqurxo‘rsindi. Ko‘zlariyoshlandi.
SHavkatbezovtalanib, qimirlabqo‘ydi.
Nazokato‘ringacho‘zildi. Boshiniko‘rpabilanburkaboldi. Zumo‘tmayadyolsilkinaboshladi.
Ayolyig‘lardi, unsizyig‘lardi...

KechgaboribNazokatningnafasisiqaboshladi. Boshiyostiqqategishihamonhavoetishmayqolgandekbo‘lardi. Qorniyanabirozkattalashgandekedi.

VrachNazokatgayostiqqasuyanibo‘tirganko‘yiuxlashnitavsiyaqildi. YOtganpaytidaqorinbo‘shlig‘idapaydobo‘lgansuyuqliko‘pkanisiqibqo‘yardi, shuninguchunNazokatnafasolishgaqiynalayotganedi...
Palatagahamshirakirdi.
– Erimkelsaichkarigakiritmang, iltimos, – dediNazokatunga.
– Nega? Do‘xtirkechasiyoningizdaodambo‘lishinitayinlagan, – dedihamshira.
– Vaqtinchakiritmayturing, iltimos.
– Lekinuxavotirlanadi...
– Birorbahonao‘ylabtoparsiz! – Nazokathamshiraningcho‘ntagigapulsoldi.
Hamshiraikkilanganchachiqibketdi.
Nazokatderazagatikildi. Uningko‘zoldidao‘g‘illaripaydobo‘ldi.
Ayolo‘kiribyubormaslikuchunlabiniqattiqtishladi...
SHavkatishdanchiqibto‘g‘rikasalxonagakeldi. Lekinunipalatagakiritishmadi.
– Mumkinemas! – dedihamshiradarchagaengashib.
– Ahvoliog‘irlashibqoldimi?!. – dahshatichidaso‘radiSHavkat. Birdanuningyuziko‘karibketdi.
– Ahvoliyomonmas, lekin...
– Vrachbilangaplashsambo‘ladimi?
– Vrachkechkiobxodda!
SHavkatningyuragixavotirliuvishdi. Nazaridaatayvrachlaruniichkarigakiritishmayotgandaytuyuldi. Allaqandayqoraxayollarbirdanbostiribkeldivauo‘zinibosaolmayqoldi.
– Eshiknioching! Oching, deyapman! – deyaqichqirdiueshiknimushtlab. – Vrachbilangaplashishimkerak! Xotinimniko‘rishimkerak!
Ichkaridanjavobbo‘lmadi.
SHavkatningxavotirikuchaydi. Dunyoko‘zigaqorong‘ibo‘libketdi.
– Eshiknioching! Oching! – deyaqichqirdiujonibo‘g‘zigatiqilgudaybo‘lib. Keyineshiknibir-ikkitepdiham.
– Nimagap, tinchlikmi? Negato‘polonqilyapsiz? – dedibirmahalkeksanavbatchivracheshikoldidapaydobo‘lib.
– Do‘xtir, xotinimniko‘rishimkerak... Ko‘rishimkerak... Lekinularmeniichkarigakiritishmayapti! – dediSHavkathovliqib.
Eshikochildi.
– Ortimdanyuring, – dedikeksadoktor.
SHavkatungaergashdi.
KeksavrachuniNazokatyotganpalatagaboshlabbordi. Lekinichkarigakirishgaruxsatbermadi.
– Ana, xotiningizuxlayapti, endiko‘nglingiztinchidimi? – dedikeksavracheshikniqiyaochib.
SHavkatqiyaochilganeshikdanichkarigaboshsuqdi. Ha, haqiqatanhamderazaostidagikaravotdaNazokatuxlabyotardi. Quyuqqorasochlarioppoqyostiqustidaparishonsochilgan... Ko‘rpadansalchiqibturganelkasidaoynurijilvaqilardi. SHavkatsalxotirjamtortdi. Ammodilidagig‘ashlikvaqo‘rquvtarqamadi.
– Negameniichkarigaqo‘ymayapsiz? – debso‘radiukeksavrachdan. – Axiro‘zingizaytgandingiz-ku, kechasigaoldidaodambo‘lishikerak, deb.
– To‘g‘ri, o‘zimshundaydegandim. Lekinbubemorgayoqmayapti. Utinchlikniistayaptichog‘i. Mayli, ko‘ngligaqaraymiz.
– Mennimaqilayunda?
– Siz? Istasangizuyingizgaborib, bolalaringizdanxabarolibkeling. Darvoqe, ularniertagaolibkelsangizhambo‘ladi. Faqatderazaortidangaplashishadi, xo‘pmi?
– Xo‘p...
Keksavrachunieshikoldigachakuzatibqo‘ydi-da, keyinxonasitomonketdi.
SHavkatkasalxonahovlisidaanchavaqtturibqoldi. Uningketgisikelmayotgandi. Birdanuningxayoligaderazatomondanborsam-chi, degano‘ykeldi. Keyinkasalxonaniaylanibo‘tib, Nazokatyotganpalataderazasitagigakeldi. Ammoichkariniko‘ribbo‘lmasdi. Derazaoynalariyarmigachato‘sibqo‘yilgandi.
SHavkatergacho‘ktushdi. Keyinbuerdanbirqadamhamjilmadi...

Azobedi...

YOtaolmasdi. O‘tirishhamanchanoqulay. Ikki-uchqadamyurmasdanharsillabqolardi. Holdantoyganvujudiortiqchayukniko‘tarolmayqiynalardi.
KechgaboribNazokatnihiqichoqtutdi. Ikki-uchmarta “hiq-hiq” etdi-yu, birdanichidanqandaydirsuyuqlikotilibchiqdi...
– Hamshira! – xirqiroqovozdaqichqirdiNazokat.
Zumo‘tmayvrachetibkeldi.
– Endisuvniolmaslikningilojiyo‘q, a? – dediNazokatvrachgaqarab.
Vrachjavobbermadi.
– Do‘xtir... – Nazokatbarmog‘idagitillauzuginivrachningcho‘ntagigasoldi. – Suvnioling, iltimos. Faqatoxirigacha!
Vrachyanajavobbermadi. Hattoqarabqo‘ymadi. Ayolningqo‘licho‘ntagigakiribchiqqanidankeyinhamyuzigaqaramadi. Biroq…
– Hamshira! – deyachaqirdiyo‘lakkaqarab.
Nazokatjilmaydi. Keyinyostig‘iostidanupa-eliknioldi...

Tunchekindi.

Derazaoynasigakumushrangyog‘duyopirildi.
Keyinufqqizarib, astaquyoshboshko‘tardi. Quyoshnurlarixiravakuchsizedi, ammoutezko‘tarldi. Harer-harerdauniuvadapardalardekkulrangbulutlarto‘sdi, lekinquyoshyurishinito‘xtatmadi. Birdanquyoshko‘zniqamashtiradiandarajadaoppoqbo‘libporlabbepoyonosmonniyoritdi, so‘ngyurishinisekinlashtirgandaybo‘ldivakasalxonatepasigakelganidaborshu’lasiniderazasiochiqxonagatushirdi, shu’lashulahzakaravotdayotganxushbichimvago‘zalayolyuzidajilvaqildi, qovoqlariniqizartirmoqchibo‘ldi, lekintoshqotganqovoqlarqiltetmadi, shu’lao‘zigaqadrdonqorachiqlardaakslanmoqniistadi, ammoularnitopaolmadi, ufaqatayolningbarmoqlaridapaydobo‘libqolganuzukningolmosko‘zchalaridaginaaksetaoldi.
Bukunquyoshqanchalarporloqvanurafshonbo‘lmasin, ungahechkimmuhabbatizhorqilmadi, muloyimnurlarinisimirmadi...
Baribirquyoshningbuerdanuzoqlashgisikelmadi, usaxiylikbilannurlarinimo‘l-ko‘lto‘kdi, jimginayotganayolvujudiko‘zniqamashtirib, yarqirayotganoppoqnurlargaomuxtabo‘libketdi...


WOMAN
A room with snow-white walls. The sun's rays penetrating through the window fell on the woman's face, coloring her eyelids, reflecting on her cheekbones with pearl drops, sparkling in the facets of a diamond ring on her finger.
The woman slightly opened her eyes. A ray of sunlight flashed in her pupil.
"How nice… The woman, closing her eyes, eagerly caught the sun's rays, whispering– "How I love you, the sun! .."
The sun generously gave light. The woman seemed to dissolve in his tender rays.
For the next week, Nazokat had a fever, the temperature rose and fell.
The attending physician invited Shavkat to the office.
- Nasokat's condition is grave. Prepare for the worst.
Shavkat clutched his head.
Be strong. She still has a lot of suffering ahead of her. These are just flowers..." the doctor paused.
Shavkat suddenly raised his head.
- Really… She's already suffered enough, isn't that enough?
- There is still a lot of torment ahead– - the doctor sadly remarked and said goodbye.
Shavkat circled the courtyard of the hospital for a long time, then entered the ward. Nazokat was asleep. She has lost a lot of weight. The eyes were fallen in, the cheekbones protruded, deep wrinkles appeared at the corners of the lips, the veins on the temples swelled, becoming completely blue.
Shavkat cursed all diseases in the world.
Nazokat, feeling the gaze, slowly opened her eyes.
- How are you?..
"It's fine," Nazokat stirred . - Here, I thought maybe I'd take a walk.
Shavkat gave her his hand.
- I still have the strength, I myself ... - gazing intently at her husband, Nazokat said.
Shavkat involuntarily sighed heavily.
They went out into the courtyard.
6"The doctor probably told you all sorts of nonsense," Nazokat said, secretly examining her husband's upset, darkened face. –But he's wrong. Look at me, take a good look, do I look like a person who is going to die soon? I feel better. What else is needed? The woman stopped. It was cool, patchy clouds were floating in the sky, the sun was shining dimly, it smelled of snow. – I looked in the mirror, dying people don't have such faces. Do you know about this?
"Yes, I have," Shavkat said in a confident voice.
Here, you see, - Nazokat's face shine from within. She moved to the side, where the sun was warming, the woman's eyes sparkled vividly.
"It's cloudy and dull today–" she said– "Such weather puts pressure on a person, makes him ugly, pale!
In the fresh air, the traces of the disease receded, there was a barely perceptible pleasant smell of powder, which fell on her shoulders, giving her an elegant look.
Suddenly the unexpected happened. Nazokat ran into the arms of Shavkat. This has never happened before.
- We are not only couple, we have become much closer, right, Daddy? – she exclaimed, clinging to her husband's chest.
Shavkat felt her intense heat and tears. He stood motionless.
Shavkat wanted to say something, wanted to cheer up his wife, calm her down, but his tongue was stiffened.
He involuntarily sighed heavily again.
Nazokat kissed her husband's face, as before, affectionately . Shavkat's body trembled. His wife's dry lips were hot. His face was burning. The hair that touched his face smelled of heat.
- What's wrong with you? - that's all Shavkat could say.
Nazokat smiled. Like before… But it was not a smile, but a grimace of pain and pity .
- You'll see, I'll be fine in two or three days. I feel that it will be so," Nazokat whispered.
The light didn't seem nice to Shavkat.
At night, Nazokat's temperature rose again. She was a little rave. She called the children.
Shavkat called the doctor on duty. After the injection, Nazokat calmed down and fell asleep.
In the morning, as usual, I woke up early.

• 
  I slept soundly, didn't I?""what is it?" she asked, frightened of something.
  

"You're tired," Shavkat said.
– Why did you turn off the radio?
– You need peace. The doctor recommended it.
– I turned on the radio on purpose. If it sounds, I won't fall asleep so soundly…
- The weather is fine today, will you go outside? It's so warm there, either summer or autumn–" Shavkat said.
- Of course I will. I love the freshness of the morning.
Nazokat, throwing off the blanket , swung her legs off the bed and, looking at them, changed her face. Both of her feet were swollen . And this is just for one night?!..
- No, I'll come out later– - upset Nazokat lay down, throwing a blanket on her feet.
- Let me bring breakfast here. We'll have tea together, then I'll go to work, check on the children–" Shavkat did not show that he was surprised by his wife's sharply changed mood.
- Okay…
Shavkat served brought breakfast on a wheeled table. Nazokat was drinking tea, covering her legs with a blanket…
In the late afternoon, Nazokat saw that her lower legs were also swollen. She was upset. The temperature rose again at night.
When she woke up at dawn, she felt a nagging pain in her stomach. Placing her dry, bony hand on her stomach, she immediately pulled it away. The tumor has now moved to the stomach, it was growing by leaps and bounds.
Doctor! Nazokat shouted, not hearing her own voice.
A respectable elderly doctor entered the ward palatu, followed by a thin nurse.
- How are you, my daughter, does the temperature no longer bother you? The doctor sat down on a stool.
Nazokat smiled sadly, wrinkles appeared around her eyes.
- It's okay.
"Take the temperature," the doctor said, glancing at the nurse. Then he looked carefully at the Nazocat. – You wanted to tell me something. I'm listening, daughter.
– About the tumor... - Nazokat could not continue.
- So.
It seems that liquid has gathered in the stomach again? See… If all the fluid is drained, will the tumor subside? Nazokat said, looking pitifully at the doctor.
- The tumor will subside, - the doctor said with restraint
- But, in my opinion... I will not speak as a doctor, but as a simple person, as a peer of your father … I don't advise you to do that.
– Why?
"Well... that's better," the doctor said, hiding his eyes
– It's going to be very hard this time, isn't it? I'll probably suffer a lot. In some ward, a woman screamed all night. I also… But look here, my stomach is getting bigger by the hour. Soon it will be like a drum. I'm in such a terrible state... – Nazokat turned her face to the wall. The pillow was instantly soaked with tears.
Big as a mountain, the doctor suddenly felt very tiny.
– I understand ... - after a pause, the doctor said hoarsely. – We have partially removed the liquid… But why do you need additional suffering?
"Okay, I'll be patient," Nazokat said, looking in the opposite direction. – I can handle everything.
The Doctor got up from his seat. Nazokat grabbed the doctor's hand in desperation.
– I know, I know, I don't have much left. But I don't want to die in such a terrible way! I don't want to!..
The doctor, carefully freeing his hand, left the room.
Night.
Shavkat quickly fell asleep. But Nazokat couldn't sleep. Pushing aside the light blanket that had caught on her legs, she wanted to sit up on the bed, hugging her knees with difficulty, but it was uncomfortable. Or rather, it is very difficult. The unpleasant pain that gripped her slender figure made it difficult to sit. The woman, with difficulty, went to the window. She couldn't sleep, she stared out the window in silence. The whole world appeared before her in all its glory, presenting an amazing sight. The boundless sky sparkled, drowning in golden radiance. The moon and the twinkling stars in the sky did not want to give way to the approaching dawn: they dimmed, faded and flared up again, began to shine brightly.
While there was a struggle between night and dawn, silence prevailed in the universe. The woman, with her whole being turned into hearing, listened to the magical harmony, some barely audible sounds, felt the mysterious fluttering of leaves shining in the moonlight... taking a deep breath, she felt her lungs filled with clean air. Tightly pursing her lips, she stood for a long time, holding her breath.
By evening, Nazokat began to gasp . As soon as she lay down, she immediately ran out of air. The belly became even bigger.
The doctor advised me to sleep sitting, leaning on a pillow. When she was lying down, the liquid formed in her stomach pressed on her lungs, and it was difficult for her to breathe…
A nurse came into the room.
"If the husband comes, please don't let him in," Nazokat asked her.
– Why? The doctor said that someone should be with you at night–" the nurse was surprised.
- Please don't let me in temporarily.
- But he will worry...
- Think of something! - Nazokat put the money in the nurse's pocket.
The nurse came out in confusion.
Nazokat looked out the window. I remembered about my son.
In order not to cry, she bit her lip hard…
After work, Shavkat went straight to the hospital. But he was not allowed into the ward.
- You can't! - said the nurse, leaning towards the window.
– Has she gotten worse?! Shavkat asked anxiously. His face instantly paled.
– I feel fine, but...
- Can I talk to a doctor?
- The doctor is on his evening rounds!
Shavkat's heart fluttered with alarm. It seemed to him that he was not allowed in on purpose, and he could no longer restrain himself.
- Open the door! Open up, I say! – he shouted, banging on the door with his fists. – I need to talk to a doctor! I need to see my wife!
No one answered.
Shavkat's anxiety grew. His eyes went dark.
- Open the door! Open up! – he shouted angrily. And even kicked the door several times.
– What's going on? Why are you making noise? "Doctor
I need to see my wife... I need to see… But they won't let me in," Shavkat gasping for breath
The door opened.
"Follow me," said the elderly doctor.
Shavkat followed him.
An elderly doctor accompanied him to the Nasokat ward. But he wouldn't let me in.
- You see, your wife is sleeping, now you have calmed down? - said the doctor, opening the door a crack.
Shavkat stuck his head through the half-open door. Yes, indeed, Nazokat slept on the bed by the window. Her jet-black hair was scattered on a white pillow. Moonlight played on the slightly opened shoulder. Shavkat felt relieved. But anxiety and fear did not leave him.
– Why don't you let me in? he asked the elderly doctor. – You said yourself that someone should be near her in the evening.
- Yes, that's what I said. But the patient does not like it. She seems to want peace. Let's not contradict her.
– What should I do?
- You? If you want, go home, check on the kids. By the way, we can bring them tomorrow. But you can only talk through the window, okay?
- Good…
The elderly doctor escorted him to the door and went towards the resident's room
Shavkat stood for a long time in the hospital yard. He didn't want to leave. Suddenly the thought came to him: should he go to the window?! After bypassing the hospital, he went to the window of the Nazokat ward. But nothing was visible. The windows were half-curtained.
Shavkat squatted down nakortochkax. He never moved…
It hurt…
Couldn't sleep. It was also uncomfortable to sit. Having stepped two or three times, I was suffocating. The exhausted body could not stand the extra weight.
By evening, hiccups attacked. Nazokat hiccupped two or three times, some liquid suddenly gushed out of her throat like a fountain...
- Nurse! Nazokat called in a hoarse voice.
The doctor came right away.
– Now you have to pump out the liquid, right? Nazokat asked, looking hopefully at the doctor.
The doctor did not answer.
– Doctor... – Nazokat, removing the ring from her finger, put it in the doctor's pocket. - Please drain the liquid. Only completely!
The doctor did not answer again. He didn't even look at her. He didn't look at her even when the woman put the ring in his pocket. But…
- Nurse! he shouted in the direction of the corridor.
Nazokat smiled. Then she took out her makeup bag from under the pillow.
The night was passing.
A silvery glow was pouring through the window.
The horizon was lighting up, the sun was waking up. Its rays were still dull and weak, but the heavenly body was rapidly gaining strength. Gray clouds, tattered like curtains, blocked his path, but the sun rose higher and higher and finally shone with a dazzling bright light. After a little hesitation, it reached the roof of the hospital and looked through the window of the open ward, sending its rays on the face of a beautiful elegant woman lying on the bed. They, as usual, wanted to color her eyelids, but the eyelids were lifeless and frozen, they wanted to be reflected in the pupils that had already become native, but they did not find them, only the edges of the diamond ring that appeared on the woman's finger turned out to be accessible to them.
No matter how radiant and shining the sun was on this day, no one confessed to him in love, did not want to dissolve in his rays…
Anyway, the sun did not want to leave this place, it generously and abundantly gave its rays. The body of the woman lying quietly melted into the dazzling streaming bright light…