a bottom man on the totem pole

“итнинг кейинги оёғи”

While Umar was in Shahrixon to see his younger sister Oftob, he also encountered the clever and virtuous wife of the Khan of Shahrixon, who offhandedly told the Emir: ‘Sire, you may remember being angry with G’ozixo’ja and expelling him from his home. This man now lives in a cottage very close by, just behind my house, and he is very poor. But he has a daughter called Oyxon, a girl of indescribable beauty – words simply can’t capture her, tongues become numb, pens break.

Бир куни ҳаракатда эпчил Амир Умархон Шаҳрихонга ўз синглиси Офтоб-ойимдан хабар олгани борганида, у даргоҳда Шаҳрихон хонининг оқила ва покиза хотини ҳам хозир экан. У Амир арзига ушбу сўзларни қилди: “Ҳазрати олийлари хотирларида бўлса, Ўратепадан Сайид Ғози-хожани ўз ғазабларига дучор этиб, кўч-кўрони билан ушбу вилоятга сургун қилиб эрдилар. У зот ҳозир шу ўлтирган уйимиз орқасидаги бир кулбада хору-зорликда кун кечирмоқда. Аммо ул зотнинг Ойхонпошша отли бир қизи борки, унинг чиройини тавсиф этишга сўз ожиз, тил соқов, қалам синиқдур.

This wise woman described the girl so vividly that the Emir suspected it could not be true. When the other guests had left, he questioned Oftob, and the cunning princess replied, ‘My lord, I have been lucky enough to see this girl: her face is as smooth as porcelain, her eyes are like two evening stars when night falls, her waist is as small as a wasp’s, her buttocks are as heavy as rounded sacks of sand…’ Oftob resorted to the language of A Thousand and One Nights, which she and the Emir had so loved to listen to when they were children: Umar’s heart was conquered. 

Ул қилвир хотин қизнинг таърифини зиёда қилдики, Амирул-мўминийн орада таъмами ё ғараз бор деган гумонга борди, бироқ барча тарқагач, Умархон ўз сингли Офтоб-ойим билан қолганида, ул маликаи айёр негадир янгидан ўрганган Шаҳрихон шевасида: “Ҳа, тузук, бу қизди мен ҳам кўрғонман-да, бети - синмаган сопол ой, кўзлари – тун бошида ярақлаган Чўлпон, бели - болчи арининг белидек ингичка, думбаси қум уюмидек оғир”, - деб болалигида бирга тинглаган “Минг бир кеча” тавсифларидан келтирган заҳоти, Амирнинг юраклари дарз кетди. Эртак айтмиш, энди чегачига эҳтиёж унинг бутун вужудини қамради...

It was dark when the car came to a sudden halt and Abdulla lost the thread of his thoughts. They must have arrived at the prison. What had he been thinking about? Oh yes, the five bright-red oranges he hadn’t been able to give his children, now left in a house where the lights were out. When he was still very young, he’d written a story called ‘Devils’ Dance’ about something terrible that had happened to his father. Could Abdulla have been taken captive by devils, as his father was?

Шу пайт ичи қоронғи машина таққа тўҳтаб, Абдулланинг хаёлини узди. Манзилига етиб келишибди-да... Нималарни ўйлаётган эди боягинда. Ҳа, қандили ўчган уйдаги болаларига улашилмаган бешта қуёшранг норинж ҳақида... Аттанг-а! Йўқ, навқирон ёшлигида ёзган бир ҳикояси бўлгич эди. Отасининг бир ваҳимали саргузашти ҳақида. “Жинлар базми” деган... Отасига ўхшаб Абдулланиям жин босдими?

Hands cuffed, elbows gripped, Abdulla was taken down a dark staircase into the building’s basement. In one of the niches, by the dim light of the caged paraffin lamp, a swarthy Russian stuck his hands under Abdulla’s gown and poked in all his pockets, pulling out everything to the last penny, and then, after feeling his trousers, removed his thick leather belt. ‘Sign this!’ he barked, holding out a piece of paper. Abdulla gestured to his handcuffed wrists. ‘Well, scribbler,’ the guard laughed, ‘you’ve had your itchy little
hands put out of action!’ He kicked Abdulla in the knee so hard that the latter curled up in agony. ‘Hold the pen with your teeth,’ the Russian demanded.

Қўлида кишани билан Абдуллани қоронғу бинонинг қоронғу зиналари бўйлаб қоронғу ертўласига судрашди. Ертўланинг бир хонасида темир катакка илинган жинчироқ остида пешанаси кетга кетган бир барзангидек ўрис Абдулланинг чопони остига қўлини тиқиб, чўнтакларини кавлаб, сариқ чақагача бор пулини йиғиб олди-да, сўнг иштонига ёпишиб, ултон қамарини ечди. “Мана бунга имзо чек!” – деб бир парча қоғозни узатар экан, Абдулла қўлидаги кишанга имо қилган эди: “Ҳа, ёзувчишка, қичиган қўлларинг қисқарибди-да!” - деб тиззасига оғир ўтиги билан тепган эди, қимтилаб Абдулла чидаб бўлмас оғриқдан икки эгилди. “Тишла энди ручкани!” - деб ўшқирди бу бандибон жаллод.

You get used to physical pain: you synchronise your breathing to its throbbing waves, you are ready for the waves to surge up and you can wait for the waves to die down. But the pains of humiliation are unbearable, and it is impossible to endure the suffering caused by your own helplessness. At first Abdulla attributed Vinokurov’s brutality to the fact that he was a Russian, but he then recalled that among the men who searched his house there had been an interrogator who spoke Uzbek like a Tatar, replacing all his ‘j’s with ‘y’s.

Лўққиллаган оғриққа ҳам кўникса бўларкан: нафасингни оғриқ тўлқинларига мослайсан-да, бу мавжнинг авжини атайин кутасан, лекин адолатсизлик аламига чидаб бўлмайди, кучсизлик азобига бардош бериш қийин. Абдулла аввалига анавининг бағритошлигинию юрагини анор қилиб эзган бу оғриқни унинг ўрислигига йўйди, бироқ уйидан чиқаверишида афтидан андироқ татар терговчининг “ий”лаганроқ талаффузидаги гаплари эсига тушди: “Сини биз билябиз. Уртақларинг барлиғини бизгя йеткургянляр...”

In prison you can’t avoid getting a kicking. In 1926, too, Abdulla had been beaten within an inch of his life. What made his blood boil was not the physical pain so much as the treachery of his own people, black-eyed blood relatives whom he had trusted and considered to be friends. Back then he’d begged for death’s release: that would have been easier to bear than the company of his own black-eyed friends. He’d been too young then: he hadn’t thought of his children, nor of Rahbar.

Қамоқ борки қамоқда тепки емасдан қолмайсан. 26-нчи йили ҳам Абдуллани ўлардек тепкилашган. Унда ўзининг эгиз ўзбеклари. Лекин унда ҳам юрагини қон қилгани бу тепкилару муштлар эмас, ўзи ишонган, ўзи дўст деб тутинган қора кўзларнинг хиёнати бўлган эди. Ўшанда шу қора кўзларга қайта қараш ўрнига маҳкамадан тузукроғи уни отиб ташлашни сўраган эди. Ўшанда бебок ёшлик ғурурида на бола-чақасини, на Раҳбарини ўйлаган экан...

As a drop becomes a rivulet, and a rivulet a river, and a river a torrent, so the men broke into the fortress in a matter of hours, pouring in until they had flooded it. The wounded prince Husayn rode through the open gates as the new Emir. Despite extensive searches, the rebellious vizier Hakim was nowhere to be found. Shortly afterwards he appeared before the Emir of his own accord, carrying the severed head of his chief of artillery. ‘Forgive your servant: I was in the grip of ignorance, when this ungrateful dog started firing
cannon instead of opening the gates to Your Majesty,’ he said, bowing and scraping at length. Husayn forgave him his sins, appointing Hakim as his vizier as his father had done before him.

Томчи сув кетидан фаврак, фаврак кетидан оқим, оқим кетидан сел келганидек, бир заҳоти оламон Аркка сизди, ёпирилди, босиб кетди. Яраланган шаҳзода Ҳусайн Аркка амирсимон кириб борди. Бузғунчи Ҳаким-қушбегини қидиришди, ҳеч қаердан топишолмади. Ўшанда бир пайт, тўпчи Ражабнинг олинган калласи қўлида, Ҳаким-қушбеги Амир олдига ўзи чиқиб келди. “Бир қошиқ қонимдан кечинг, ғафлат уйқусида қолибман, мана бу кўрнамак эса сиз Хумоюн ҳазратларига Арк дарвозасини очиш ўрнига ўт очибди!” – дея, кўплаб тавозеълар қилди. Ҳусайн-тўра унинг гуноҳидан кечиб, марҳум отаси йўлида ўз вазири қилиб тайинлади.