Between two mountains

Between two mountains
Juan Gabriel Borges

Left alone after her husband's death, Shahsanem opens a bakery. She becomes the richest person in the area where she lives. Those who have not yet achieved success think that there is some other secret to her wealth and one day Shahsanem's house burns down. Investigating who burned the house, Vasif encounters unimaginable oddities.

Each novel in the book separately reflects other worlds, human destinies, ordinary human characters standing behind seemingly wonderful and unimaginable events. The founder of magical post-surrealism in literature Juan Gabriel Borges, in his story "Hotel in Paradise" reminds everyone of what they have lost and long forgotten …

Old acquaintances appear on the pages of the book – characters from the world created by Juan Borges. Lively, humorous stories with elements of melodrama will certainly please the reader.

Juan Gabriel Borges

Between two mountains

short novels

Red raspberry

The wide road passes through the center of the village and divides it into two parts. Behind the village, there are high mountains covered with wood, but below the village there are pine and fir-tree forests. In front, the village is pressed against the sandy shores of the sea. Possibly, this village is the nicest village of the world. It is situated in the frontier. Look, the frontier lines lie along the top of the mountains seen from here. In other side of these lines, there is situated one of the oldest and biggest countries of the East…

For years the frontier was closed. It was impossible for the villagers of this nice village to go to the country situated in the other side of the frontier. It wasn’t too easy as at present. Till the time when the former system was abolished, the inhabitants of this village grew harvest in the sowing areas, gathered the harvest and lived somehow thanks to the wages they got. But the villagers had another income too.

Each year starting from the middle of May till autumn, all the people of the village, including the children and adults, picked the fruits of raspberry bushes, which grew on the outskirts of the village, in the forest and in their gardens. They picked raspberries into the buckets, placed the buckets on the road, at their gates towards the city. The road was towards the north, leading to other different countries.

So, the inhabitants of the village lived in this way, brought up children.

During that period there were two big houses. One of them belonged to the chief of the collective-farm, the other house belonged to the director of the village school.

Years passed…. The borders were opened after the former system fell. It became easy to go to the country situated in other side of the frontier not only from this city, but also from the whole country. There was built a big custom -house in the village.

Then in the village there was much changing. The clothes of the villagers and some traditions also changed. Every day on the main road passing through the village, a lot of nice and colored trailers were rushing about. Those trailers were coming from the far countries and directing towards the north.

But only one thing wasn’t changed in the village. It was the tradition of to place the bucketful of raspberries at the gates of their yards, on the main road.

There was a singularity in this village. This singularity was that there grew only the bushes of red raspberry. The black raspberry grew only in the gardens of rare villagers. During that time there was much need to black raspberry. They could be sold expensive. Those who came from the city wanted to buy black raspberry. In this village, only in the garden of Unal’s parents, there grew more black raspberry bushes. Unal was born after the borders were opened.

The years passed…Unal grew up… After two days at the school where he studied there would be the ceremony of the last bell ringing. Unal would finish the secondary school.

He was sitting on the thick bough of the old mulberry tree in the yard and was eating the sweetest mulberry of the world, looking at the houses in the other side of the village. The reason which made Unal stare at the far houses, was his hope to see his lover Paknur. Every day he saw Paknur in the classroom, but he wasn’t tired of seeing Paknur.

Unal had opened his heart to his lover just when they were in the eighth form. Paknur neither said to him “ no” or “ yes”. She stood at the window, stared her green eyes at the apricot garden in the behind of the school, seen through the windows of the classroom, and said :“ I shall be an English teacher.”

Unal also took a step towards Paknur, stood near her. My God! How beautiful this girl was! His lover as if was much charming and fresher than the flowers on the mountains around the village. Now this place, the classroom, where he was admired at her beauty, was for him the most sacred and native place. Just here, in this classroom he had opened his heart to Paknur. That was why Unal answered without thinking: “ I shall also be a teacher.”

–Really? – Paknur asked him naively.

–Yes! My decision is resolute. We shall work as teachers in this school,– he said.

The booming sound of the turbo motor dispersed his thoughts. Even he would fell on the ground from the high bough of the tree. He looked round the road. In the middle of the wide road, golden “ Lamborghini “ was rushing about. Recently, he had seen a lot of nice cars rushing about in this road. But Unal had never seen such a nice car before. He remembered that it was the car of Abisalam. He looked forward, towards the four-storey villa seen highly among the houses of the village. “ Lamborghini” once more honked and then its sound couldn’t be heard. It appeared that Abisalam had reached to his home.

…There were times when at least all the children of this village lived only with wish- to go to the city, to enter any institute, to graduate from that institute, to own a profession, to work in their village.

At school only Abisalam didn’t read his lessons well. They say that the director of the school always scolded him. He advised him to read and to be a teacher or a doctor. The director told him that if he walked idly in the streets of the village he wouldn’t be able to enter any institute. But though the director of the village school made efforts, Abisalam yielded to no persuasion. He did whatever he wanted. Alongside with not reading his lessons, he behaved badly and hindered the reading of other pupils.

The director of the school had only one way-out- Abisalam was expelled from the school. Just at the same day, when he was expelled from the eighth form, Abisalam got on the train in the small station on the outskirts of the village, and left the village. Since that time nobody could see him. But afterwards it was known that he had gone to the far country in the north.

Seven years passed after his leaving the village. Some days ago Abisalam came to the village. He returned with his new golden “ Lamborghini”. This time he didn’t go to his father’s home but his private home. Because a year ago he had come to the village, giving much money he bought the yard in the neighborhood of the school director, the workers knocked down the old house in the yard. Well, he bought the yard in the neighborhood of the director who had expelled him from the school. He gave much money to the workers, they built the foundation just at the fence adjoining the house of the school director. Now the house of the director remained in the shadow of Abisalam’s big villa. They said that he asked the workers to dig the foundation too deeply, even the director’s house cracked.

Abisalam who was excelled from school just seven years ago, had everything he wished- four-storey villa, golden “ Lamborghini”, only the great God knows what he has in the country in the north. The people of the village said that most of the colored trailers coming from the different countries, and rushed about towards the north, including Afghanistan, passing through the middle of the village belonged to Abisalam. Abisalam didn’t know the language of the people living there, while going there seven days ago.

The people of the village also were aware of that the booming sound of the turbo motor of “ Lamborghini” of Abisalam returning from one of the restaurants at the seashore, at midnight woke the director of the school who was accustomed to go to bed early and get up early. Since the day Abisalam returned to the village, the director couldn’t sleep at nights. The school director was waiting impatiently the day on which Abisalam would return to the country in the north.

Then Unal was sitting on the thick bough of the mulberry tree and looking at the villa of Abisalam, thinking how nice villa it was. Abisalam’ s “ Lamborghini” was nice too. Unal thought that Abisalam had everything. “ But…no, – “ Unal said to himself: ” Abisalam hasn’t a lover like Paknur.”

The laughter of his sisters and brothers dispersed Unal’s thoughts, parting with his dreams he again returned to his yards. His parents, sisters and brothers were picking black raspberries from the bushes in the behind of the yard. There was smiling on their faces. It wasn’t a joke. This time they were picking black raspberries with great pleasure. After selling the bucketful of raspberries his parents would buy him a nice white shirt, black trousers and shining shoes, for him to put on the next day in the ceremony of the last bell ringing. Unal wondered what his lover Unal would tell seeing him in the new clothes.

His father took two buckets of black raspberries, went out of the gate, put the buckets at the gate in one side of the road. Unal’s mother said to him: “ Why not to take the buckets of raspberries to the bazaar situated at the end of the village, we can sell the blackberry much expensive there.”

Recently, some of their fellow-villagers took buckets of black raspberries to the end of the village, sold in the place which looked like a small bazaar. They didn’t put the buckets at their gates and waited for hours to sell.

But each time when Unal’s mother wanted to go there for to sell raspberries, father worried, he was against to go there and sell raspberry there. He used to say that they could sell at the gate too.

But this time Unal’s mother insisted on going to the small bazaar situated at the end of the village. Because he was afraid that might be they couldn’t sell the raspberries, and wouldn’t buy new clothes for Unal. Mother said: “ If we can’t sell raspberries we can’t buy new dresses. I can’t send my son to the ceremony of the last bell ringing dressed shabby clothes. Soon, Unal is going to enter the institute. Why don’t you want the raspberries to be sold? I wonder are all the people gathering there, mad? “

But Unal’s father again didn’t want to go there. – “ Yes, those who gather in the place like a small bazaar, are as if like mad. They don’t know what they are doing. They want to get money but forgot about everything. The day will come on which for they or their children will have to answer for it. All the money gained there is forbidden.”

Unal’s father’s words arouse mother’s interest. She continued in her insisting.

–Well, let’s go there, I want you to see everything with your eyes.” –his father was obliged to go, took the buckets and began to go in the direction of the end of the village. Unal’s mother was following her husband.

Their fellow-villagers were standing along the road placing the buckets at them. Mother saw that except their buckets, in the buckets of none of them were black raspberries. It appeared that all of them were selling red raspberries. The woman calmed for a while. She hoped that soon they would sell the buckets of black raspberries.

“Mercedes” coming from the city stopped just at them. The man wearing black glasses got off the car, looked at the buckets at Unal’s parents, then he approached to their neighbors whose buckets were full of red raspberries. “ How much is gram of it?” –saying thus he said: “ Put this bucket to my car.” Then he again got on his car.

Unal’s mother couldn’t realize anything, looked at the “ Mercedes” . She said to herself: ” I wonder do they sell raspberries in grams?”

The neighbor came up the window of the car, stretched out something folded to the man wearing black glasses. The man snatched the folded thing, hid under the seat of the car. He took out hundred dollar from his pocket, gave the neighbor. Then he drove the car, stopped at the buckets of Unal’s parents. Unal’s mother began to praise the blackberry: “ Take these ones, you can’t find like this anywhere.” Unal’s father waved his head hearing her words. “ Let him go. He isn’t in need of black raspberries.” The man wearing black glasses drove his car, withdrew.

The neighbor whose buckets of raspberries were still at him, as if struck dumb. He put the buckets on the earth, stood silently. But his eyes were smiling.

That day a lot of new and nice cars stood at the villagers stood near the road, and then they withdrew in a moment.

It was towards evening. The buckets full of black raspberries were

still at Unal’s parents. Firstly, mother looked seriously at his husband, then she said to her well-off fellow-villagers: “ I think all go mad. Nobody wants to buy black raspberries. I wonder why do all the cars stop at those who sell red raspberries? What does it mean?”

All of a sudden as if Unal’s mother struck dumb, she began to shout:

“ Dishonest! Ignoble! Shameless! Indecent! Just now I understand that all of you sell narcotics. Let the heavens punish you!”

The fellow-villagers looked at Unal’s father’s face and asked him: “ How long are you going to stay here? Take her home away!”