A Fairy Tale

(A Story)

A certain man turned forty. His body was full of strength and his mind had reached maturity. There was nothing he could not do: if he struck a mountain, they say, he would grind it to dust. For he was born and raised in a noble family; he was hardworking, wise, conscientious and devoted to his family. He was kind to everyone, truthful and sincere. He was generous, he was noble-hearted. He was so exceedingly God-fearing that everyone called him a scholar, an ascetic and a devout worshipper.

But one day something strange happened: when he woke up in the morning, his past had slipped from his memory. Who his father was, who his mother was – he did not know. He had forgotten God completely. He remembered his children and his wife, but looked at them with indifference. Everyone became alarmed. The curious thing was that whenever he saw his parents, he would fly into a rage and try to bite them. His parents were bewildered by his state, frightened, and they took him to a doctor. The doctor said he was perfectly healthy. But he came to hate his parents terribly for doing this.

He did not care about his wife. He was indifferent to his children. No, he handled the night-time duties and the daily chores splendidly; for example, he provided everything needed for their living. His wife, who before had not gone out of the house, then started going out into the street. Then she began dressing up and chatting freely and amiably with any man she liked.

As for his son and daughter, they took to roaming about all night and sleeping in the morning until the sun was high. But he said nothing. He even sat and listened to curses from his children and wife. Well, now they have the right to speak, he would say.

In the end his wife fell in love with another man and left the house. One son became a drug addict, one daughter a prostitute, one child a thief. As for the youngest, he entered university, graduated, and grew up to be a bribe-taking official. But he looked on all this calmly and said that everyone builds their own life.

One day his parents, now very frail, came to his house. The old man and old woman wept. Look what days we have come to, they said. Look at your children, what a state, what a ruin this is, they said. Where is the mind you had twenty years ago, whom have you turned into, they said. What should I do, he said. You did not give your wife and your children a good upbringing, you were not firm enough, the old couple said with anguish. What, should I make the house a prison for them, he said; everyone builds their own life, everyone is free, he said again.

The old couple went on whimpering, and above all they said, “What will you say before God tomorrow?” – at which he brought an axe out of the house and hacked them both to death. “You people manipulate a person by calling him an infidel like that,” he said. Then he buried them under the swimming pool in the courtyard and poured cement over them.

He told a traitor named Pes about this. Pes praised him heartily and said that this is how a rotten past should be dealt with – well done. Pes was a draftsman by trade. The most curious thing was that no one blamed him for this deed. “Won't the old couple break out through the cement under the pool?” one person asked, earnestly worried. “No,” he said, swaggering. “If they come out, I'll shove them back in.”

He loved to read the story called “The Metamorphosis,” and he even knew about the mankurt. And he was always going about talking about the indifference of society and how people had lost their humanity.

And so the fairy tale ends.

Akrom MALIK