Arts & Culture - Literature

Rahnaward Zaryab is one of the well-known contemporary Afghan fiction writers. One can hardly find literate people in Afghanistan who are not familiar with his name and have not read his works.

Mr Zaryab also writes critiques as well as doing researches. He has written hundreds of short stories, essays, and has published several books. ‘The apple and Aristotle' is a famous novel by Mr Zaryab in Persian, parts of which have been published in some Afghan publications outside Afghanistan. We hope the full edition of this great novel will be published soon.

What you are going to read is the translation of one of his famous stories that he has written in France .

My mother would always say: "Keep away from the oleaster trees: they've got snakes."

She almost repeated this every day. The snakes and the trees were entwined in my mind.

In our village, across a shallow river, there was a small meadow surrounded by trees, standing closely, linked by wild shrubs and herbs. Small white, yellow and violet self-grown flowers shined like tiny colourful stars on the wild herbs here and there.

I can say there was a pleasant grove across the river, lying near the meadow. I liked to cross the river, lie on the meadow and stare at the pellucid azure sky and enjoy the pleasant breeze blowing from the small grove. Sometimes, I would chase a butterfly and reach near the grove. The butterfly would disappear in the wild herbs and bushes and I would be filled with a slight fear. My mother's words echoed in my ears:

"Don't go near the oleaster trees; they've got snakes!" I would look at the oleaster branches fearfully and curiously and expected to see a black snake coiled around a branch creeping forward.

My mother would say: "The snakes like the fruit of the oleaster tree. The snakes go where there are oleasters."

And again, she would say: "When the oleasters bloom, the snakes get crazy. The fragrance of oleaster flowers intoxicates them and they become more dangerous!"

But I never saw any snakes on the branches. Only the oleasters' greenish leaves glistened in the sunshine and nothing was heard. It was silent everywhere.

My mother would say: "The snakes under the oleaster trees furiously move their tongues and start hissing. Their eyes resemble black diamonds and bewilder people and make them numb." So, any slight movement or rustle of branches and leaves scared me.

My mother would say: "These snakes are wizards who have come from India. Their venom can turn human into ash!"

Once I asked my mother: "What are these snakes doing here? Why do they not go to India?"

She answered: "King Mahmood Ghaznawi has imprisoned them here and they will be here till dooms day!"

Sometimes, I felt sorry for the snakes. They were wandering prisoners. The people in our village would always speak of Mahmood Ghaznawi's wrath and his mighty army's attacks on India when leopards came to greet him and the snakes put their heads on the ground before him.

My mother said: "These snakes had once forgotten to greet King Mahmood Ghaznawi. The king ordered his men to kill them, but the wizards turned themselves into pigeons and flew away. Mahmood ordered his minister to catch the pigeons. His minister, who was a skillful wizard, turned into a falcon and caught the pigeons straight away and threw them at Mahmood's feet. The wizards started crying and begging for mercy. They cried and begged for mercy for seven days and nights until their eyes looked like red rubies and then got as black as charcoal. Mahmood decided not to kill them, but ordered his minister to turn them into snakes, take them to Ghazni and imprison them, to be there till dooms day. The minister brought them and imprisoned them in our village."

I sometimes asked myself why King Mahmood's minister chose our village to imprison the snakes and why he did so. I found no answer, but my mother's words had made the small grove very mysterious and fearful to me.

That year, when spring came, the oleasters bloomed and bunches of honey-like oleasters were hanging from their branches. Their pleasant scent passed from the river and pervaded everywhere. This scent attracted me towards the oleasters, but I feared the black snakes. I wanted the blooming season to pass, so that I could go to the meadow again and chase its beautiful butterflies. Suppose my waiting was useless. The blooming season didn't finish. Bunches of blossoms were still hanging from branches, their pleasant scent spreading everywhere. I was gradually running out of patience, and finally one day I tired to be courageous, crossed the river and got to the meadow. The newly grown grasses were gentle and avocado in colour and had pleasant moisture. I was scared and did not even look at the oleasters. I lay down on the meadow. The scent of oleasters pervaded everywhere. There were little yellow and white flowers among the avocado grasses.

I saw a beautiful butterfly sitting on a star-like flower. Its wings were as colourful as rainbow and perhaps more colourful than rainbow. I wanted to catch it; it flew away. I chased it. It flew here and there on the grasses and finally flew towards the oleasters and disappeared among the wild bushes. I suddenly realised that I was under the oleaster trees. I had even gone some steps further into the wild herbs.

Fear circulated in my veins. I felt numb. I couldn't move. I thought I was spell-bound. I thought that the black snakes had cast a spell on me. I was very frightened and looked at the branches from the corner of my eyes. I was sure the snakes would be coiling on the branches, sucking the ooze of the blossoms. Suddenly, my body got cold, as I heard a voice. I imagined it was a snake hissing there. I was about to faint and fall on the ground when I suddenly heard someone say: "Don't fear, I am not a snake!"

My strength was a little revived and my body warmed up. I realised that there was an old man standing a little far from me, among the wild bushes and herbs. I thought he was stuck there and wanted to free himself. His old, long garb was reaching his ankles. His hair and beard were as white as cotton.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "No one knows what they are doing in the world. Neither do I," he said.

I wanted to tell him of the danger of the snakes, but before I spoke a word, he said:

"You fear the snakes, don't you?"

I said: "Their venom turns human into ash!"

He laughed. It was a belly-laughter. His body was shaking all over with laughter. I noticed he had a walking stick of dry wood. He looked like the dervishes who sometimes came to our village, stayed in the mosque over night and left for other unknown destinations early in the morning. The old man stopped laughing; he had apparently freed himself from the wild bushes and herbs. He came closer. He was very thin with a dark skin. He came further again and sat cross-legged on the ground. He put his stick beside him and leaned at an oleaster tree. He looked at the branches and said:

"So, you have also been told of the dangerous snakes?"

I said: "My mother has told me about them."

"Sit down," he said gently.

I sat down cross-legged like him, leaning at an oleaster tree. I don't know why I no more feared the snakes. The old man said: "Once I was also as young as you." After a short pause, he continued: "And you will also be like me...old and senile!"

He laughed again. I didn't know why and what he was laughing at. He said: "This is what the world is all about. Ha... ha... ha...!"

His laughter stopped and he continued his words. He was talking gently. His voice was impressive and euphonious. His words were being absorbed in my mind.

He said: "Years ago, when I was a child, my mother would say: "Don't go near the oleaster trees; they've got snakes!" She would say: "The snakes like oleasters. The snakes go where there are oleasters. "When they bloom, the snakes get crazy. The fragrance of oleaster flowers make them drunk and restless." My mother would say: "These snakes were the wizards who had been imprisoned here at the order of King Mahmood Ghaznawi. When the king went to India to fight against the infidels, leopards would come to greet him and the snakes put their heads on the ground before him."

I feared the oleasters and wild bushes and herbs. I still loved to cross the river, lie down on the green bed of the meadow, stare at the pellucid azure sky and enjoy the pleasant breeze blowing from the small grove. I sometimes chased a butterfly and reached near the oleaster trees. The butterfly would disappear among the wild bushes and my body was filled with fear. My mother's words echoed in my ear: "Don't go near the oleaster trees; they've got snakes!"

But, one day, when the oleaster trees had bloomed, I ran after a butterfly whose wings had hundreds of colours. It disappeared in the wild bushes and suddenly, I found myself under the oleaster trees and had even gone some steps further in the wild bushes and herbs. I couldn't move of fear and got numb. I thought I was spell-bound. I thought the snakes had cast a spell on me. I was scared and looked at the branches. I expected to see snakes on the branches, sucking the ooze of blossoms. Suddenly, my body was cold, as I heard a voice.

I imagined there was a snake hissing. I nearly fainted and fell down when I heard someone say: "Don't fear, I am not a snake!"

A little strength and warmth returned to my body. I saw an old man standing far from me among the wild bushes. I thought he was stuck there and was trying to free himself. He was wearing an old long garb reaching his ankles. His hair and beard were as white as cotton.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"No one knows what they are doing in this world. Neither do I," he said.

I wanted to tell him of the danger of the snakes, but before I spoke a
word, he said:

"You fear the snakes, don't you?"

I said: "Their venom turns human into ash!"

He laughed. It was a belly-laughter. His body was shaking all over with laughter. I noticed he had a walking stick of dry wood. He looked like the dervishes who sometimes came to our village, stayed in the mosque over night and left for other unknown destinations early in the morning.

The old man stopped laughing; he had apparently freed himself from the wild bushes and herbs. He came closer. He was very thin with a dark skin. He came further again and sat cross-legged on the ground. He put his stick beside him and leaned at an oleaster tree. He looked at the branches and said:

"So, you have also been told of the dangerous snakes?"

I said: "My mother has told me about them."

"Sit down," he said gently.

I sat down cross-legged like him, leaning at an oleaster tree. I don't know why I no more feared the snakes. The old man said: "Once I was also as young as you." After a short pause, he continued: "And you will also be like me...old and senile!"

He laughed again. I didn't know why and what he was laughing at. He said: "This is what the world is all about. Ha... ha... ha...!"

His laughter stopped and he continued his words. He was talking gently. His voice was impressive and euphonious. His words were knotted in my mind.

He said: "Years ago, when I was a child, my mother would say: "Don't go near the oleaster trees; they've got snakes!" She would say: "The snakes like oleasters. The snakes go where there are oleasters. "When they bloom, the snakes get crazy. The fragrance of oleaster flowers make them drunk and restless. "My mother would say: "These snakes were the wizards who had been imprisoned here at the order of King Mahmood Ghaznawi, and will be here till dooms day.

I feared the oleasters, but one spring day when the oleasters had bloomed, I saw a butterfly whose wings had hundreds of colours... and I suddenly found myself under the oleaster trees... I was sure the snakes would be coiling on the branches, sucking the ooze of blossoms.

I suddenly heard someone say: "Don't fear, I am not a snake!"

I saw a man stuck among the wild bushes and herbs... He said: "No one knows what they are doing in this world, neither do I!"... It was a belly-laughter. His body was shaking all over.... He sat cross-legged on the ground and said: "So, you have also been told of these dangerous snakes?" I said: "I have heard it from my mother." "Sit down," he said.

I sat cross-legged like him and leaned at an oleaster tree. I don't know why I no more feared the snakes.

The old man said: "Once I was also as young as you are"... I didn't know why and what he was laughing at. He added:" This is what the world is all about. Ha... ha... ha... haa!"

He stopped laughing and gently continued his words. His voice was impressive and euphonious and his words were enmeshed in my mind. The old man said:" Years ago when I was a little boy, my mother told me not to go near the oleaster trees and she said that the oleaster trees had snakes. She said that the snakes under the oleaster trees were the wizards who had been brought from India by King Mahmood Ghaznawi and imprisoned to be here till dooms day.

And one day, I was running after a butterfly whose wings had hundreds of colours... I thought that the snakes had cast a spell on me... I thought it was a snake hissing... I suddenly heard someone say: "Don't fear, I am not a snake!"

I saw an old man. I thought he was stuck in the wild bushes. I asked him what he was doing there. He said: "No one knows what they are doing in this world, neither do I!"

He laughed. It was a belly-laughter...he sat cross-legged on the ground and said: "So, you have also been told of the dangerous snakes?" I said: "I have heard it from my mother." "Sit down," he said gently.

I sat cross-legged like him and leaned at an oleaster tree. I don't know why I no more feared the snakes. The old man said: "Once I was also as young as you are. You will also be like me one day... senile and old!" He laughed again, saying: "This is what the world is all about. Ha... ha... ha... haa!

He stopped laughing and gently continued his words. His voice was impressive and euphonious and his words were enmeshed in my mind. He said: "Years ago when I was also a little boy, my mother would say: "Don't go near the oleaster trees; they have got snakes!" she would say: "These snakes are the wizards who had once forgotten to greet King Mahmood Ghaznawi. The king ordered to turn them into snakes and imprison them in this village to be here till dooms day. When Mahmood Ghaznawi went to India to fight, the leopards greeted him and the snakes put their heads on the ground before him. And I liked to cross the river, lie down on the meadow and stare at the pellucid azure sky... its wings had hundreds of colours... I thought it was a snake hissing... I was about to faint and fall down on the ground when someone said: "Don't fear, I am not a snake." It was an old man standing in the wild bushes... He said: "No one knows what they are doing in this world, neither do I!"

I said: "The venom of these snakes can turn human into ash!" "Sit down," he said gently.

Like him, I sat cross-legged on the ground and leaned at an oleaster tree. I don't know why I no more feared the snakes. The old man was talking gently. His voice was impressive and euphonious and his words were enmeshed in my mind.

The old man said: "Years ago, when I was a little boy, my mother would say: "Don't go near the oleaster trees; they've got snakes!" My mother would say: "These snakes had been imprisoned in our village by King Mahmood Ghanawi. When king Mahmood went to India to fight, leopards greeted him and snakes put their heads on the ground before him."

But I liked to cross the shallow river, lie down on the meadow and stare at the pellucid azure sky to enjoy the pleasant breeze blowing from the little grove. I sometimes ran after a butterfly and reached near the oleaster trees. The butterfly disappeared in the wild bushes and my body was filled with fear. My mother's words echoed in my ear: "Don't go near the oleaster trees; they've got snakes!"

I interrupted the old man's words and asked: "Did you finally see the snakes?"

"I only saw one snake. There was only one snake here."

I asked: "Weren't you frightened?"

The old man said: "Those days I wasn't a child any more. I was old and senile. It was a summer day. Everything burnt under the hot sunshine. The river was almost dry. I crossed the river and came here. I wanted to sleep in the shade of these trees. The oleasters were getting ripe under the sun. I was counting how many days would take the oleasters to get ripe. I suddenly saw the snake. It was slowly hissing and creeping on the ground. It was a black snake with white spots. I wanted to hit its head with my stick. It stayed some steps away from me. Its eyes were grievous. It looked very exhausted. It coughed repeatedly and said in a weak voice: "I am a harmless snake. Don't fear me!"

It coiled itself with difficulty and formed a circle. Coughing again, it said: "I am now old and retarded." Then it laughed. Its laughter was bitter and mocking. It said:

"This is what the world is all about. Ha...ha...ha...haa!"

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

The snake shook its head and said: "No one knows what they are doing in this world. Neither do I!"

Then it sighed and said: "I come here every noon when frogs leap towards the grove. I hide in the bushes to hunt a small frog. What to do! I have to continue my life.

- Are you the wizard who had been imprisoned here by King Mahmood?, I asked.

- It laughed bitterly: "Ha...ha...ha...ha... what wizard, which wizard?

I have never been a wizard, but it's true that King Mahmood had brought me to Ghazni."

It wriggled here and there and said: "It seems that the frogs won't come today. It coughed and coughed again. Its weary eyes stared at a point. Then it slowly said: "I lived in India near the Somanatha temple. You must have heard this name. Somanatha Ranis, glowing in gold and jewels came there from everywhere. They knelt and bowed before Shiva. They presented jewels and gems to the temple. Poor bare-foot men and women also came there and put beautiful flowers and humbly sprinkled scented oils before Shiva. The monks in the temple, who resembled dried wood as a result of meditation and hunger, were harmless people. When they saw me, they put their palms together and bowed down to me saying: "Jai Raj Nag, Jai!" and in this way they expressed happiness and praised me. They gave me different foods to eat and I didn't have to go and hunt frogs. It was a comfortable life.

The temple chimes were clanging melodiously. Religious songs could pacify one's soul. While the temple was full of silence, one could feel the eternity."

The spotted black snake coughed and coughed again, and with its hopeless and weary eyes looking at the dried river, it continued: "That was when the rumour about King Mahmood spread everywhere and shook India. It was said that a cruel king was coming from the other side of mountains, looting temples. Jewels had piled in the temples of India throughout the years and centuries. Every temple was in fact a treasure and Mahmood was very interested in these treasures. He almost came to India every year with his mighty army, passing through mountains and deserts. Then he killed, looted and burnt.

Then the loots were loaded on elephants, horses and camels, and brought here in Ghazni."

His men also looted people's property and forced young men and women into slavery."

The black snake coughed again with its head downwards. I thought it was weeping. Maybe it was remembering the past years.

"What happened after that?" I asked.

The snake continued with its head still downwards. "Finally, it was Somanatha's turn. Oh, it was a horrible day. The hills and deserts were full of Mahmood's men. The sound of drums and clarions, the neigh of horses and the noise of elephants and the cries of Mahmood's men were really frightening and horrifying. The dust in the air had covered the sun's shinning face. It looked as if the sun was eclipsed.

A large crowd of men, women and children had taken refuge in Somanatha. The monks were prostrating, asking Shiva to protect the temple. They mumbled prayer words and shook the temple chimes."

The black snake continued: "Women with tousled hair were holding their babies in their arms. Everyone was pushing themselves to the walls and the pillars of the temple as if they wanted the walls and pillars to give them refuge inside them to be hidden from Mahmood's men.

Mahmood's men had encircled the temple, and the circle was getting narrower and narrower. The monks were wailing hopelessly: "O Shiva! O mighty lethal Shiva, where is your wrath?"

Everyone was waiting for a miracle. They expected the fire of Shiva's wrath to erupt and turn Mahmood's men into ashes, but Shiva was still quiet and didn't move.

"The children were thirsty and wanted water, but there was no water and they were crying. Old sun-burnt men and women were looking at Shiva, surprised at why he was quiet and indifferent."

"And finally Mahmood's men broke the temple gates and the king entered on a black giant horse, wearing armour and a lustrous steel crown. Suddenly, the screams and yells of men and women got louder and louder and reached the heavens, but just in a second the temple was in a horrifying silence. The screams and cries died down in the chests and throats of the hopeless men and women. Even the parched babies were quiet. Everyone was staring at the king's frightening eyes when I came out. I was furious at why the king had no mercy on the poor people. I was furious to see the king and his horse in the sacred temple of lethal Shiva. I was furious about why he was bothering these innocent people. I looked here and there and could do nothing. But as the monks saw me, they got happy and hopeful. They thought I was a miracle of Shiva. They thought I had appeared there to save the temple; so they thankfully bowed down before me saying: "Jai Raj Nag, Jai!"

Suddenly, the hopeful, cheerful and thanking cries of women and men raised who said: "Jai Raj Nag, Jai!" Everyone had a dim smile mixed with surprise and admiration.

"Mahmood and his men saw me. Bows and arrows were set ready and I thought I would be perforated in a moment. I considered myself part of eternity, but Mahmood signalled to his men not to release their arrows. I assumed it a sign of peace and compromise. In the temple's darkness, I moved towards Mahmood. His horse was scared and neighed, moving backwards. It wanted to stand on two feet, but the strong soldiers took its reign and the horse was quiet again.

"When I was near Mahmood, I stood, looked at his eyes which shined with greed and revenge - great greed and revenge. I put my head on the ground before him. With this move, I wanted to tell him not to bother those poor people and not to destroy the temple, and go back. I wanted him to see that a snake of Somanatha has fallen before him; a Raj Nag has fallen on the ground before him. I wanted to tell him to have mercy on the thirsty children and hopeless women. I wanted to say that Somanatha has been a temple of people for centuries. Suddenly, I heard one of his commanders cheerfully shouting: "Look! This snake handed the temple over to our king!"

I was surprised and upset. The king's men made noises. Mahmood ordered them to put me in a box. When I was conscious again, I saw myself in the darkness of the box and I heard the king ordering his men to destroy Somanatha and break the statue of Shiva. I could hear women and children crying. The horses were neighing and the elephants were crying. The victorious soldiers were laughing loudly. I got a hundred years older. I was perished."

The snake got quiet. A low hissing was heard from him. I thought it was breathing with difficulty. It slowly continued: "I was then taken to Ghazni and became part of Mahmood's palace. It was a strange environment. Everything and everyone was strange for me. No one respected me anymore. I was no longer a Raj Nag. I was a hated frightening creature.

"When I first was taken to Ghazni, there were rumours that the king of India's snakes has kissed the king's feet and has presented him all the treasures of India. They said Mahmood has brought the king of India's snakes to Ghazni and has imprisoned it. Later, they said that when Mahmood goes to India to fight, the snakes of India greet him. They also said that the king has turned some Indian wizards into snakes and imprisoned them.

"The king himself showed me to his important guests who came from all over his kingdom and other lands, and said: "This is the snake that handed over Somanatha to me and put its head on the ground before me!" The guests admiringly said: "Long live the king! It has been the will of God!" And the king proudly smiled.

"Once the caliph of Baghdad sent a representative to Mahmood's palace, Mahmood wanted to give me to him to take me to the caliph as a gift, but he convinced the king that they have a lot of snakes in their own land. Mahmood changed his decision and sent ten ravishing girls that he had brought from Kashmir and a lot of jewels and gems to the caliph. The caliph's representative accepted the gifts on the spot, as if there were no beautiful girls in their own land and as if the caliph had nothing in his treasure.

"King Mahmood was suffering from tuberculosis. The hakims had told him to keep himself cheerful, and laugh. The king used everyone and everything to make himself laugh. He had a jester called Talhak who amused the king in a nasty and impolite way and the king let out belly laughter.

Everyone in the palace feared the jester, for he was very close to the king and very dear to him.

"This merciless jester also annoyed and oppressed me a lot. He had a stick with a needle on it, and used it to tickle me and make me laugh and annoyingly said: "Come on! Come on!... Laugh!" Of course I did not laugh. How could I laugh? The needle pierced my body and how painful it was! But the jester foolishly laughed. The king made horse laughter. Sometimes I wanted to say: "I am a Raj Nag, a snake from Somanatha. Don't bother me!" But I thought it would be useless. They had destroyed Somanatha and looted all its treasure. How could they respect its snake? I had to tolerate everything and kept quiet. I had turned into a cry and had nothing but cry all over my body. Every cell of my body was a cry. My life was a cry. A great and painful cry. I thought that if I let that cry out, my body would evaporate and I would disappear.

"For a period, I was taken to the house of a hakim called Abu Raihan. He was a good, kind and wise man. He had gone to India with Mahmood several times and knew all its customs and traditions, and knew about how the people respected me there. He never annoyed me. Sometimes, when we were alone, he spoke to me in the language he had learnt from the Indian hakims. He sometimes even bowed down before me slowly saying: "Jai Raj Nag, Jai!" and smiled affectionately and compassionately.

"I was taken to his house so that he could use me for experiments. The experiments were harmless and didn't annoy me, but the hakim took the experiments very serious. Once he put pieces of emerald in my cage for ten days and nights. After ten days, he carefully examined my eyes and found that my eyes were well and I hadn't become blind. He was very excited. He wrote about it in one of his books, and the other hakims were surprised, because they believed that emerald made snakes blind.

"Abu Raihan was always busy with his books and wrote a lot. He stayed awake very late every night. He stared at a point for moments and then wrote again and again.

"I can say my best days in this land have been spent in Abu Raihan's house, but these happy days didn't last longer. I was again taken to the palace. This was the king's order. Abu Raihan came near my cage for the last time, slowly saying: "Jai Raj Nag, Jai" and I was taken to the palace. The shameless jester was waiting there with his pointed stick. My body was again pierced with his stick and I was again an object of laughter for the king and his ministers.

"Mahmood died of tuberculosis and his son, Masood, became the king after a conflict with his brother. The new king didn't like snakes. He drove me out of the palace and I faced another period of wandering. I was taken hand to hand and what foolish people I was encountered with and what oppression I suffered! I was finally taken by a foolish person who took me to the bazaars of Ghazni showing me to people, getting money from them. This dirty man insultingly called me King Snake. I was played with by children in the streets and bazaars. This period of humiliation completely took my resistance away. I didn't like to eat anything. Actually, I couldn't' eat anything. My body was numb and I could hardly move and that merciless man made me move with a pointed stick as the jester did. What a bitter and painful time it was!"

The black snake was quiet again. Its eyes were closed. There was no movement in it. It seemed as if it was asleep or had fainted, but after some moments, its head moved again. It opened its weary eyes and said: "One day that merciless man came here to wash himself in this river that had a little water at that time. He forgot to properly close my basket. I used the opportunity and used all my remaining strength taking myself out of the basket. I hid in the wild bushes. He couldn't find me and shouted swears furiously, and went away. I didn't see him again."

"I have now lived here for years; completely alone. In winters, I remain numb under the ground. How good it was being next to Somanatha!
What comfortable days I had! The weather was warm and fragrant. The clanging of temple chimes pacified my sould. The monks would say: "Jai Raj Nag, Jai"... The children were parched and wanted water... Everyone was surprised at Shiva's silence!... The screams and cries of men, women and children resonated and reached the heavens... I wanted him to see that a Raj Nag had fallen on the ground before him... This snake handed the temple over to our king!... The king of India's snakes has kissed King Mahmood's feet...Long live the king! It has been the will of God!... How painful that pointed stick was!... The jester laughed and laughed... For God's sake! I am a Raj Nag, the snake of Somanatha! Abu Raihan! Abu Raihan! Don't let them take me away from your house!... Ouch, pointed stick!...Oh, dirty man, why are you annoying me? What a humiliation!... What an insult!... Jai Raj Nag, Jai!... I have turned into a cry! If I let this cry out, my body will evaporate and I will disappear in the sky...I am a Raj Nag... the snake of Somanatha...Jai Raj Nag, Jai... What a humiliation!... Cry...Cry...Cry...Mahmood...Mahmood, why did you
do it?... Why?"

The spotted black snake put its head on the ground and got silent. I waited a while. It didn't move. I shook it with my walking stick. It still didn't move. I took it with my hand. It was dead. It was light and weightless. Like a full fist. I didn't know what to do with its dead body. I finally buried it among the wild bushes.

And in the afternoon of a spring day I passed the river and came here. The oleaster trees had bloomed and the grasses had the colour of pistachios. I wanted to find the place where I had buried the black snake. I searched here and there and couldn't find it. Wild bushes and herbs had grown everywhere. When I wanted to go back, I was stuck in the wild bushes. As I wanted to free myself, I saw a little boy standing some steps away in the wild bushes. The little boy was standing there scared and couldn't move. I said: "Don't fear, I am not a snake!"

"What are you doing here?" asked the little boy.

"No one knows what they are doing in this world. Neither do I," I answered.

He wanted to say something, but before he could say a word, I said:
"You fear the snakes, don't you?"

"The venom of these snakes turns human into ashes!" he said.

It reminded me of that old frail snake of Somanatha and I laughed. I laughed uncontrollably. I freed myself from the wild bushes and sat on the ground leaning at an oleaster tree. I said: "So, you have also been told of the dangerous snakes!"

"My mother has told me about them," he said.

"Sit down," I said.

He sat on the ground like me, leaning at an oleaster tree.

I slowly said: "Years ago, when I was a little boy like you, my mother would say: "Don't go near the oleaster trees! They've got snake!"

While I was speaking, the little boy was growing slowly. He was growing in order to get old and retarded. Yes, old and retarded. This is what the world is all about. Yes, this is... ha, ha, ha, ha!

(Montpellier, France), 2001

Translated from the Persian by: Waheed Warasta