A Curse on Dostoevsky

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TAT, TAT, tat… tvam, tvam… asi…

Where do these paltry words come from? He’s probably heard them somewhere before. In an Indian film, perhaps. It doesn’t matter. The noise is soothing, it makes the filthy fly seem more attractive.

Rassoul whistles the tune to block out the world.

And he hears nothing. Not the engine of a car as it stops next to his window. Not the men’s footsteps entering the corridor and approaching his cell. Not the key in the lock, the door opening, or the gruff voice ordering: “Stand up!”

He remains sitting.

Light floods in, revealing the forbidding face of Amer Salam. He asks for the two of them to be left alone for a few minutes. As soon as the others leave, Amer Salam grabs Rassoul by the neck, insults him briefly, and asks him what he has done with the money and jewels that he stole.

Rassoul shrugs his shoulders to indicate that he doesn’t know. Amer Salam insists, swears that he will cut them out of his mother’s stomach if he has to, and presses his gun into Rassoul’s belly. Rassoul gazes at him without fear and then points to his throat, groaning to indicate that he cannot speak. Out of his mind with rage, Amer Salam yells for a pen and paper. He will give Rassoul five minutes to write down the location of the jewels and the money. “And if you don’t, I’ll use that paper to set light to your girlfriend’s pussy!” With that, he stalks out of the cell.

Rassoul is brought pen and paper. He writes: “Leave my family alone. I will give you everything at the foot of the gallows.” He hands the piece of paper to the guard.

Five minutes later the guards return. They take Rassoul out, his hands and feet still bound in chains.

Before they get into the van, one of the guards asks Rassoul if he has performed his ablutions. He nods yes, smiling. The van drives out of the Wellayat gate, onto the road, and accelerates. Rassoul is hunched over when he hears his name being shouted from a distance. He looks up to see Razmodin running down the empty street, shouting and waving at the vehicle to stop. Rassoul gazes at him serenely.

The van drives along. Rassoul looks at the few pedestrians hurrying in the same direction, toward Zarnegar Park.

Lately, the sky has never been so blue, or so distant. And the sun has never been so clear, or so close.

The van stops in the park, and everyone gets out.

Rassoul is absorbed by the birdsong. He gazes at the branches of the trees, looking for the birds so he can hum along with them: Tat, tat, tat… tvam, tvam… asi…

“Rassoul!” A woman in a sky-blue chador rushes toward them, lifting the corner of her veil. It is Sophia, in tears, and the armed men push her away on the instructions of the new clerk. They prod Rassoul forward. He is apathetic, indifferent to everyone watching him, even to Farzan who nods a greeting with his usual sad smile.

“Don’t take him there!” It is Razmodin again, shouting from the back of the procession, out of breath. “Yes, Commandant Sir!” sniggers one of the armed men as he stops him from coming any closer. Razmodin desperately repeats the same words, over and over: “Listen to me, this is awful, awful!”

The men push Rassoul forward; Sophia and Farzan follow behind. Suddenly they all stop, at the sight of the noose-less gallows surrounded by a silent crowd.

“Where is the noose?” demands the clerk. “It’s been cut!” exclaims one of the guards.

They rush forward and join the crowd at the foot of the gallows. “Let us through, brothers, we have the convict. Move back, move back!”

People turn toward Rassoul and move back as he approaches. A corpse is revealed, lying on the floor. Everything freezes: time, breath, tears, words. Legs tremble. Rassoul falls to his knees beside Parwaiz’s body, the noose around its neck. The crowd murmurs, fidgets, backs away. Other armed men appear and furiously push people aside to make way for the commandants, who arrive in a great cacophony. With their boots, everything disappears. Rassoul can no longer see. There is only the voice, nothing but the voice, Sophia’s voice.