18 Stories on the Train

“Look, go out and enjoy nature, admire the landscape. You don’t have this clean air in Baku. You’ll have plenty of time to chat at home,” Jabrail-muallim advised.

“To be honest, we were afraid to catch a cold, that’s why we stayed here. And you know how expensive the drugs are.”

Shaking his head, Jabrail-muallim changed the subject:

“Alright, get ready, let’s have dinner. You did not share lunch with us.”

Bahlul-kishi took his neighbor by the hand and answered:

“My dear, maybe you can be our guest? My wife brought excellent cabbage rolls from home, she prepared it herself.”

Jabrail-muallim realized that the neighbors did not want to be a burden to them, so they were not a good company, and decided to be clear:

“Bahlul, we want to taste the turkey shashlik. We invite you too. If you change your mind, feel free to come.”

* * *

The night came. Like all the other vacationers, our neighbors slept soundly in their rooms. Waking up in the morning, they could not believe their eyes. It snowed at night and everything was covered in white. Bahlul-kishi was very upset: “What am I going to do? How do I get out of here in my wreck of a car? How can I get to Baku?”

Jabrail-muallim, on the contrary, was happy as a child:

“You see, how lucky we were, wife? Did you expect that we would see such snow?”

“I did not expect at all,” Lyaman replied, delighted, and then joked: “If I had known, I would have brought a thermos with me to collect and take some snow to the children.”

This time there was a knock on Jabrail-muallim’s door.

“Brother, there is snow everywhere, how can we get out in this weather?” Bahlul- kishi asked, agitated.

Jabrail-muallim began to calm him down:

“Don’t worry, neighbor. We’ll come up with something.”

It was about 12 in the afternoon. The snow would not stop. Bahlul- kishi was deeply worried. His wife Sakhne Khanum, seeing her husband's condition, began to calm him down:

“Look, why all this agony? Who forces you to race with your car? We’ll go slower and we will get there somehow.”

“What are you saying, wife? We saved money for 20 years to buy this used car. And now you say that I have to ruin it over bumps? You think it is easy to go downhill on bald tires? What it slips and crashes against the trees? Do we have extra money to pay for the repairs?”

“What do you propose, then?” the wife asked.

“We’ll walk down the hill. Then we’ll catch a ride with someone and continue. When the snow melts, I will come back for the car.”

Jabrail-muallim and his wife were also going to leave. Lyaman Aliyeva said:

“Jabi, the roads are covered in ice, maybe we should leave the car here and go down on foot. We'll catch some car and go home.”

“What are you talking about, wife?” Jabrail-muallim objected. “You want us to slip and hurt ourselves? To the hell with the car, let it break down. At least we will be alive and well.”

Secretly from Jabrail-muallim, Bahlul-kishi went and paid for his room, which greatly upset his neighbor. But he nevertheless accepted his offer to go in his Jeep, although he tried to refuse at first.

… The neighbors arrived safely at home.

Bahlul-kishi was going crazy. He just kept thinking about his old “Zhiguli” car. As for Jabrail-muallim, although he was in a good mood, seeing the concern of his neighbor, he also felt guilty somehow. He was not even particularly happy that he had travelled to Kechresh.

* * *

Bahlul-kishi could not keep still. It was two weeks already that the car had been waiting for him on the mountain. Every day he called the hotel and asked about the local situation, but the snow would not melt. He had to wait, there was no other solution.

Another week passed. The snow did not melt – on the contrary, it snowed harder now.

When they were playing dominoes again, Jabrail-muallim, seeing Bahlul-kishi's frustration, offered unexpectedly:

“Neighbor, our opponents beat us last time. If you play well and we win, I promise to bring your car from Kechresh using a tow truck.”

Bahlul-kishi almost jumped of joy. It was as if he was not facing a domino game, but a struggle for survival.

4

It seems that this rain will never stop. In fact, the story of Bahlul- kishi, although it seems funny, is in fact sad. It reminds me of Nijat Bey. His story is very different from that of the previous hero. What happened to him brings up a smile, but not sympathy. It is a story with a good ending. Nijat Bey is in no hurry to get married, he is passionate about his work. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that it is time to create a family. His mother, Nargiz-khanum, complains to her son's friends all the time, saying that they have all got married and that they could try to convince her son to follow their example.

Aunt Nargiz has more than enough candidates for the position of her daughter-in- law. But the problem is, the son says that he will marry only the one he will love. Moreover, he is in no hurry, as I have already noted.

One fine day, friends on the street drive him into such a situation that he is forced to get to know two girls. And the girls are far from being of the timid kind. They test him so much that the poor fellow runs home and tells his mother: “Marry me with whoever you want, I agree.”

The Choice

The house where Nijat’s family lived was located near the Central Department Store. Nijat was busy in the office five days a week, and the other two days he spent at home. His mother Nargiz-khanum kept swearing: “How long are you going to stay at home, go out into the city, enjoy life.” But everything was useless. Sometimes friends managed to pull him out of the house by force and take him on a walk through the boulevard or to the cinema. But it happened extremely rarely. When at home, he would sit by the window, watching passers-by: he observed the way the people were dressed, the shapes of their faces and reflected on human society.

Nargiz khanum's cherished dream was to marry his son, who was already over thirty, as soon as possible, and devote the rest of her life to raising grandchildren. Actually, her husband Nadir-muallim dreamed of the same thing. But due to the respectful father / son relationship, he could not tell him about it directly, always passing a hint through his spouse, Nargiz-khanum. However, last time they talked, the head of the family put the question bluntly. His order was clear and concise. “Tell him that his father says that it is enough already, he has to have some mercy. I am giving him two months. If during this time he does not decide himself, he has been warned. I myself will go and marry him with the daughter of some relative.” Nargiz-khanum passed her father's words to her son, word for word.

The poor woman asked her son's friends so many times to try and influence him. And at each meeting, they tried to start a conversation about marriage in order to ignite a spark of interest from their friend. All these young people were married and tried using their own example to convince their friend how important and necessary it is to have a family, how good it is to be a married person.

The office where Nijat worked belonged to a computer programming company. Sometimes he did not have time to complete a job and then he took it home. He loved his profession and therefore did not get tired at work. And when he achieved good results, his joy had no limits. All of his attention was given to specialized literature and scientific research. He did not even want to think about the need to arrange his personal life. Over the years, he became more indecisive. He didn't know how to approach young girls, how to start a conversation with them. He could not imagine how he would behave if they refused. At the same time, he was actually aware of the need to start a family.

It was Saturday afternoon. A bit earlier than at noon, Oktay and Huseyn, the guys from neighboring families, knocked on their door and began to call him. Nargiz- khanum rejoiced at seeing her son's friends on the doorstep:

“It is so nice to see you, please, come in.”

“Thanks, auntie Nargiz. Is our nerd at home?” Huseyn asked. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Nijat’s voice sounded.

While he was preparing himself, Nargiz-khanum, as usual, made it clear to the guests that they should again somehow bring him to the question of marriage.

In the presence of his mother, Nijat just could not refUse the offer of his friends to “go get a breath of fresh air” and agreed reluctantly. They all went out into the street and stood under a wide pine tree that grew at the edge of the sidewalk.

Huseyn lit a cigarette and started chatting about stuff. Oktay, though, was more to the point:

“Why don’t you marry, Nijat? It’s time, brother. Time to act. Arrange a wedding, we would enjoy hanging out with you. You don’t have pity of yourself – ok, but have mercy of your parents. You promised you would soon decide yourself, didn’t you. So?”