Short Story from Moscow
A story of a boy’s love for his far flung snow-clad native place and own language and dislike for artificial urban life and society of Moscow
By Sherzod Komil Khalil
Dyunlecan was born at a place covered with deep woods. That place is still covered with white snow. Reddish-grey ground will be seen only in summer. What saw Dyunlecan in the world is his father’s wooden cabin, green fir trees and nut trees, flannel dogs and deer that pull sledges, sky, clouds and frogs. He also knew polar fox, blue wolf, brown and black bear and bogs of the thicket. Although his father, Mirgachan told him about marvelous things of other world, he hardly believed that they existed. How could he believe the things he hadn’t seen?
One day a helicopter landed on the thicket. Like every child, Dyunlecan was surprised looking at helicopter. His hair was as brown as bear and his eyes were as blue as the lake. He was coming towards Mirgachan. Dyunlecan’s father, also hurried: “At last you came, Victor – he said.
“Mirgachan, it has passed 12 years since we last met”, a white man slightly beat on Mirgachan’s shoulder. “Where is your son, at that time he was a new born baby. The time flies.”
Mirgachan met Victor, when Dyunlecan was born. This all happened because adventurous Victor, fifteen years before visited this village and got lost in the wood. Fortunately, Mirgachan on the sledge ran into him. He took Victor to his wooden home and gave him clothes to warm himself. He made healing tea by verdures for him. These were the reasons of their friendship. Uncle Victor told him about the world, where he lived and Mirgachan wanted to go to that world. So, Uncle Victor took him to Moscow. Mirgachan came back with a lot of impressions and would always tell about another world with pleasure. No one expected Mirgachan had been there. Uncle Victor lived a week at Dyunlecan’s cabin. During this week Mirgachan took him for hunting on the sledge with dogs. Mirgachan also went for a trip on the sledge with deer. Uncle Victor was very happy. Near to his leaving, Uncle Victor invited Mirgachan to Moscow again.
“No, thank you,’ – he refused seriously, ”I have been there. I won’t go again. Impressions which I’ve taken are enough for me to the rest of my life. Can my son Dyunlecan go with you, if you don’t mind? I want him to have conception about another world“.
Uncle Victor listened to Mirgachan with a smile on his face and agreed to his offer. So, Dyunlecan on the iron bird came to Moscow. To Dyunlecan’s surprise, there weren’t any wooden houses. They lived as a flock of deer in the crowded square houses that reminded big stone boxes. Besides, there were glass buildings all around and they hang colorful lamps everywhere. They shone day and night over noisy city. They cut the wood and build wide plains. They go in the cars, but not on the sledge. Just to please Dyunlecan, Uncle Victor took him to places, where women have short hair like men’s and wear open clothes. He saw uncountable new things like underground, internet, hypermarket, bar, disco clubs. They all were artificial and strange for Dyunlecan. All the people here talked using such senseless words as massage, “odnoklasniki”, “WhatsApp”, “Facebook” and “office”. Dyunlecan missed his own home because there people talked about sky, bread, wood and deer in his native language – Tungus.
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