Zeal with the pomegranate
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8.
September 1916. The Barraсks.
Makhmud. Takhir-aka, Alisher went out yesterday night and returned only in the early morning, and Salakhutdin sweared on you, threatened to leave you.
Today you saw how a new one danced with us. I cannot dance with him. Why do we need to have another one like me?
The owner. Go ahead for now, I will take care of this.
Wait! Do you think I cannot differentiate between my own dancers and a stranger? Bocha and a girl? Don’t move!
The owner. You should thank that Russian that he was here... If any khushtor (admirer) recognized you... They would have stoned you to death!
Nodira. Nobody would have found out.
The owner. Are you trying to bring trouble on us?
I don’t ever want to see you here again.
( Nodira sobs and nods her head).
Nodira. Nobody would have found out.
The owner. Don’t cry...You danced well, but the boys still do it more skillfully than you. You could never replace them...
Nodira I don’t want to replace them; I just want to be myself! Can I do that?
The owner leaves without answering her. We see Alisher who was following the conversation. Later Salakhutdin and Karim join him.
Alisher A girl? You have tried to get in where you were not supposed to go like a thief.
Nodira. It is you who are thieves and steal other people’s lives. The lives in which you resemble women.
Alisher. You better be quiet! Kiss me and then you’ll find out whether I am a man or a woman.
Salakhutdin suddenly gets very disturbed by Alisher’s last action and attacks him.
Salakhutdin. You idiot! Who said that you could do that?
Alisher And are you, the mighty one, going to stop me?
Salakhutdin. Never touch her again.
Alisher. So I can only touch you?
Alisher. That’s it! You are finished.
Salakhutdin. You are not Allah to decide whether I live or die!
Alisher. You will lie here, like a dead donkey!
Alisher. Don’t you dare ever raise your hand at me...! Never!
Alisher. You want to be with us? Do you realize what would happen to you?
9.
Military Headquarters.
Vasiliy. A telegram: the train sent to carry winter clothing for the Turkestan armies has been delayed. They have to prioritize and send it to the fighting front first
Vasiliy. We are having fun in the sun here…
Byaltsev. Vasiliy, not now...
Good morning Sergey. You look exhausted and miserable.
Zvyaginsev. Me? No... I am quite happy.
Byaltsev. You don’t feel sorry for people who are happy, and I feel sorry for you.
Vasiliy. A telegram: due to the growing needs for provisions at the war front, and delay in the deliveries of food, it is suggested to expand contracts with local population…
8.
Сентябрь 1916. Крепость.
Где-то в военной крепости раздался звук горна, пробуждающего солдат к службе, на минарете раздался голос муэдзима, призвавшего правоверных мусульман к молитве.
Рассвет унёс ночные тайны и растворил их в свете дня.
Раз два, раз два...промчалось в утренней пробежке отделение молодых солдат.
Махмуд (чайханщику). Тахир–ака, а Алишер вчера ночью снова куда-то линял и пришёл под утро поздно, а Салахутдин ругался на вас, грозился бросить вас и уйти.
А сегодня, вы видели, к нам прибился какой-то новенький. Я не могу с ним танцевать. Откуда он взялся этот новенький? Кто привёл его? Зачем нам второй, такой же, как я?
Чайханщик. Иди, я разберусь.
( тут же поймал за руку убегающую Нодиру). А ну, стой, ты что думаешь, я не могу отличить своих от чужого....я не смогу отличить бачу... от девчонки? (снимает с неё тюбетейку). Не двигайся!
Нодира. Пустите меня. Пустите!
Чайханщик. Скажи спасибо русскому, что здесь был он... Если бы кто из хушторов, – была бы уже мертва...Камнями бы закидали!
Нодира (плача). Никто бы не узнал.
Чайханщик. Ты хочешь накликать беду? Чтобы я больше тебя здесь не видел, оголтелая! Ты услышала меня?
(Нодира всхлипывает и кивает головой).
Нодира (плача). Никто бы не узнал.
Чайханщик (неожиданно). Не плачь...Ты хорошо танцевала. Но мальчишки это делают искуснее тебя. Ты не можешь их заменить...
Нодира (отойдя на полшага, не переставая плакать). Можно я не буду их заменять? Можно я буду собой?
Чайханщик уходит, не отвечая. Мы замечаем Алишера, следившего за их разговором и чуть позже Салахутдина и Карима.
Алишер (выйдя из тени) Как вор, ты девочка, пыталась пролезть туда, куда тебе путь заказан.
Нодира (вскрикивает от неожиданности). Вы сами воры и воруете чужие жизни. В них вы похожи на женщин.
Алишер (взял за плечи и резко встряхнул её). Лучше заткнись! Поцелуй меня и узнаешь кто я - мужчина или женщина (потянулся к ней).
Последнее обстоятельство производит на Салахутдина огромное впечатление: он набрасывается на Алишера.
Салахутдин. Дрянь! Кто разрешил тебе делать это?
Алишер (смотрит на него). А ты, всесильный, запретишь мне?
Салахутдин. Никогда не прикасайся к ней больше.
Алишер. Только к тебе?
Салахутдин толкает Алишера.
Алишер. Ну все! Тебе пришёл конец.
Салахутдин. Ты не Аллах решать – жить мне или умереть!
Алишер сбивает Салахутдина с ног и валит его наземь.
Алишер ( душит Салахутдина). Лежи здесь, как дохлый осел!
Алишер. Никогда больше не поднимай на меня руку...! Никогда!
Алишер А ты захотела быть с нами? Ты понимаешь, что тебя ждёт?
9.
В крепости.
в Крепости свои будни.
Василий. Телеграмма: отправка вагонов с зимним обмундированием для Туркестанского округа отложена. В первую очередь идёт отправка на фронт.
Василий. А чё? Правильно... мы же на солнышке греемся.
Бяльцев. Василй, потом выразишься...
Доброе утро, Сергей. Вы выглядите измождённым и несчастным.
Звягинцев (неуверенно). Я? Нет... Я счастлив.
Бяльцев. Счастливых не бывает жалко, а мне вас жаль.
Василий. Телеграмма: в связи с растущими нуждами фронта, предлагаем самостоятельно заключить контракты с местными торговыми домами по закупкам мясо- молочных продуктов и овощей. См. наименования в циркулярах, касательных рациона армии.
10.
The painter’s Garden.
A commentary on the scene.
Usto Mumin’s Ecstasy is shown in the upper middle episode of the painting «Pomegranate lips»: it portrays a group of 6 young adolescent boys (one of them holds a doyra (tambourine)) and one main, soloing dancer. The right to carry on the Zeal gets passed on from one boy to another.
Salakhutdin. I do not want to know anything about myself. I want to forget many things in my life! My mother gave birth to us one after the other. And then one day, she died. My father took me to the city.
I thought he took me to a regular school, but when they put me in dress robes and started teaching me to dance, I realized it was a different kind of a school...
I wanted to run away, but we lived behind a tall fence. I’ve tried once but they caught me and threatened to punish me if I ever tried to run away again.
They told me that my father sold me. They said: don’t worry, you will not work here for long, just until your first facial hair appears and then they’ll kick you out like a dog.
Makhmud. My family had four girls in a row before they had me. My father could not stop rejoicing that he finally had a son.
But when I was kicked out of Medrese and started dancing in the Choi-Khona, he no longer wanted anything to do with me. He said he wished that I hadn’t been born.
My sisters loved and played with me. Then I started playing with my comrades in Medrese.
They had a rule and they’d always threaten me: «If you kiss in one place twice – I will pull out a nail». My nails are all in place. Because I was really attentive…
Karim. I lived with my brother and my mother. My father left to earn money and never came back. My brother was sick. He could not walk very well. I learned to carry him on my back.
One time he would not stop yelling something about the Red Choi-Khona...
Once I came home and found my brother dead.
I think that he must have suffocated from swallowing his tongue in an epilepsy attack. I began to cry. I did not have anyone else.
The neighbors started spreading rumors that I killed my brother. Neighborhood boys threw dirt at me calling a brother-killer. I ran away from home.
I reached Tashkent in three days. I met Alisher here in the Choi-Khona and thought: he could be my brother. And so I stayed...
Karim hugs Alisher by his shoulders.
Alisher. You can’t be my brother – I am too different from you.
You like to be in the shade, and I like it when people break their heads over me, waiting till midnight when I come out and dance.
I barely remember my mother...She was often drunk... She’s disappeared... Left with the neighbors. They took me to church and said: pray and God will help you. Remember yourself.
They told me not to take offense at my mother, she started drinking after my father was stabbed in Kizil Koom. As soon as I realized that I couldn’t get food from the church I began to steal.
I got caught. Luckily, the Choi-Khona owner was around. If not for Takhir – I would have been left without an arm for sure. He took me to the mosque and said: pray, and Allah will help you.
He circumcised me and said that I was the first Russian to have a beautiful minaret cut in my front, and that I was now a Muslim.
Nodira. I was very shy growing up and always envious of my brothers. I am still very shy. I would always cry and ask my mom why she gave birth to me as a girl?
She was always really surprised by that question and answer: that is how Allah wanted it. When my father for the first time dressed me in Parandja I begun to suffocate.
But as soon as the tambourine makes a sound, I come to life again and the fear disappears. I can compete in dance even with fire!
I always imitate the fire while the bread bakes inside the oven. My arms tremble like the tongues of fire. I am like fire myself now, I am burning and become different!
My father loves me in his own way but I fear that if he found out that I’ve danced in the Bazm - he would kill me.
The owner. Can I join in?
His appearance is unexpected. He seems to have heard the entire conversation.
I was the eleventh son and I was given away to a rich relative when I was very young. He would always parade me, like a toy, in front of his guests.
When I started growing my first body hair, I cried and began to pluck every single one of it... The more I plucked the more it grew: on my chest, my arms and legs.
... I went to the shaman and said: do whatever you want, but make it so the hair would disappear.
The shaman said: I could have promised you eternity and poisoned you. But even after your death I wouldn’t be able to keep you unchangeable…
Soon I was kicked out like a dog...I began to hate them, I began to hate the entire world.
Meanwhile my body missed dancing… I would go far away from people and dance. I danced until my soul acquired some peace;
and then I decided that I would make people give me money and worship me. I’ve decided to make the best Choi-Khona in Tashkent
and gather the best and most beautiful dancers...
Salakhutdin. Are you going to kick us out like homeless dogs too?
The owner Go to work... it is Friday and it’s going to be really busy today.
Alisher: Wait a minute. You never told us anything.
The following will be all performed in a dance.
They were heading towards each other, without knowing it yet.
The lines of the yellow duvals bent in the melted air.
They saw each other it the opposite ends of a small narrow street.
They moved towards each other and their hearts started beating anxiously.
As they leveled each other, one reached out his hand with a pomegranate in it towards the other.
The second reddened, embarrassed, but did not move away his hand.
They remained standing for a long time, not saying a word.
They did not notice that the ripe pomegranate was enchanted.
It had the power to attract
And its thousand grains kept all sorts of mysteries
- of their future fate.
(Looking at the owner).
A passer-by who was watching them,
Became irritable and angry.
But he did not have the ability to stop fate.
The owner. You are going to decline in this garden.
11.
November 1916. The barracks.
Voices and screams are heard behind the stage.
Byaltsev. What is all this uproar?
The yelling grows louder.
Karamat. Mr., please listen to me... What am I to do? Allah sees everything... I am seeking justice. If anyone finds out that I came to you… I am dead
(begins to cry).
Karamat. I’ve exhausted all my strength. I wanted to go to court, but who would listen to me? I am a wife with the least rights!
Vasiliy. Crazy woman!
Byaltsev. Vasiliy, at will. It’s a good sign: a local woman has trusted us...that means that she understands which side the law is on... Talk to him. He understands.
Zvyaginsev. You may talk to me: Mr. Colonel does not quite understand you.
Karamat. My husband was spending nights at Bazms. He started sponsoring a bocha. He took all the money from his own house. He was killed...
Byaltsev. Lykoshin was right when he wrote in the Turkestan news: you have to spend money on teaching the language and not writing about it.
Elena. On friday, for the first time during your absence, went to theatre. Iliya Alexeevich ordered tickets for me and Mitya.
There was an unbelievable amount of people in the Mareen’s Theatre. Everybody knew that it was Mephistopheles.
Karamat.
Byaltsev. On the other hand if you give in, they will take advantage of you for not knowing the subtleties of their language.
Vasiliy. The local woman will be thrilled, she’ll get to punish the enemy and take advantage of the Russian authorities…
Byaltsev. Vasiliy, at will.
Zvyaginsev. Mr. Colonel. There has already been a case opened. I’ve been meaning to report to you about it.
Byaltsev. Let her go... Tell her that she did the right thing by coming. We will try and take care of this….
Zvyaginsev. We promise to look into your case and help you.
Zvyaginsev. Report.
Elena. They say that Shalyapin was very agitated and refused to work with a director with a German last name – Meyerhold...
Byaltsev. Amazing: it is already late fall but it still feels very warm. It’s the only thing saving me in your absence.
The celebrations of New Tashkent are already over and you were not here to open the exhibition or the city dance... There is a big house that is awaiting its mistress.
Elena. Please do not be mad at me, dear! You know that the doctors and our good friend Ilya Alekseevich recommended against taking little Mitya to Tashkent.
Byaltsev. Elena, please stop making a hypochondriac out of Mitya. You are driving me mad!
Elena. I am driving you mad? I am going to go mad!
Vasiliy begins his report then waits for the Colonel who momentarily lost himself in thought.
Byaltsev. Vasiliy, what is happening there? I am here. Report your business.
Vasiliy. It’s not really my business.
Byaltsev. You can talk about your business later.
Vasiliy. Procuratorship of the Tashkent region has opened a murder case. Two male’s bodies were found.
It has been discovered that two rivals had a fight about a bocha they both liked. Each one wanted to be the bochas only khushtor…
Byaltsev. Who?
Zvyaginsev. Khushtor – Mr. Colonel, means admirer.
Byaltsev. Elena, I’ve always considered you as a modern woman. I thought that you would head the female society of unveiled faces…
Vasiliy It became clear that Takhir could no longer delay in choosing, and he offered the khushtors to make a decision amongst themselves.
Byaltsev. He is not a fool, that Takhir.
Vasiliy. The rivals began to take vengeance.
Byaltsev. How wise.
Zvyaginsev. Shokhrukh disappeared. This is the seventh noted murder case based on the rivalry of such sort this year.
Byaltsev. Where is Nezhdanov? I didn’t think he was discharged from service yet. Why hasn’t he been coming to service?
Sergey Zvyaginsev. I do not know.
Byaltsev. Maybe you’ve heard of Nezhdanov, a painter from the same circle as Malevich?
Elena. Nezhdanov?.. – no, but I’ve certainly heard of Malevich! The “Black Square” will not leave my mind. Many people objected to it but Ilya Alekseevich and I loved it. It’s very magnetizing like a pool in the twilight.
Byaltsev. What a fun story… It seems to never end either, and we are just shamefully closing our eyes and our law is silent?
Elena. If God allows, maybe we will spend Christmas together.
Byaltsev. I don’t want to see any wings on Mitya then.
Zvyaginsev. What can we do? This is a an especially personal case…
Byaltsev. Personal? What can we do? We need to act! We need to apply the law.
Invite him here – that hero the Choi-Khona owner.
12.
On the way to the garden.
The owner. Wait, you little white one! Why are you creeping like a thief?
Alisher. Me? I am not.
The owner. I do not believe that you have not found some sort of a profit for yourself and are simply hanging around the garden.
Did you get that from the poor Usto? Were you the only one who got paid?
Alisher. Yes..yes ..yes! He gave me money.
Takhir. That’s so you have some natural blush on your face.
And what do you have there?
The owner. I should have just left you at the Bazaar like the crowd demanded, so you could walk armless. A thief is a thief. What do you have there?
Alisher. I think that it is a spoon for sugar; I saw one in a Russian house once.
The owner. You don’t even know what it is and you still take it?
Beauty must have balance.
Alisher. I want to sell it; it’s silver!
The owner. If you can trade this «silver» for a dead donkey let me know.
Alisher. I only stole it because you never give us money, we never get to see the presents given to us. I do not have anything of my own.
Hey you, white-skinned!
Alisher comes back, silently hugs Takhir like a faulted son would hug his father. The owner slowly strokes his back and his cheek.
The owner. You have your youth. I noticed that your facial hair is starting to grow at full force. Soon, who will want to kiss your cheeks?
Alisher. The women like it.
The owner. The women are not the ones who pay. You pay for them.
The owner. Do not steal from marked by God and the blissful. The heavens will punish you.
The owner. Go buy some bread. I’ll give this back myself.
Tell the Russian that their main officer has called for me. I knew that he would be bad luck.
13.
Same evening.
Military Headquarters.
Byaltsev. Hello, respected Takhir. We received a complaint regarding your Choi-Khona.
We are also familiar with the reasons behind a murder of two men that occurred several days ago – your regular visitors.
Part of the conversation happens with the help of the Zvyaginsev’s translation.
Takhir.
Byaltsev. We, the executioners of law of the Russian Empire, find a conflicting difference between both of our laws and cannot carelessly let some of the traditions go overboard...
Takhir. Traditions are formed over centuries, my lord. Everything is done under the conducting of Allah: our hidden desires and dreams and our differences.
Byaltsev. But you cannot allow your pupils to instigate conflicts...and let them lead to bloody collisions and call it the will of Allah.
Takhir. Everything is in his will. A man is weak. He cannot always overcome himself. We do not steal and we do not kill. People need our art, and they are created in the hands of Allah.
Byaltsev. In the arts, not your Allah not our law accepts trade of children...
Takhir. Laws are written by humans and very few of them can interpret the true meaning of God’s word. Even words that we speak, my lord, can be interpreted differently.
Byaltsev. You don’t understand me. We’ve requested the local authorities to forbid Bazms and the presence of bocha in Choi-Khonas.
Due to the relation of your Choi-Khona to crime victims, we are forced to stop any activity happening there until the case is solved.
Zvyaginsev freezes and does not immediately translate the last few sentences.
Takhir. I hope that the lord will give us an opportunity to better our position and will not leave us without means of existence?
Byaltsev. This will depend on the level of the crime of everyone involved...
Takhir. This is not our fault....My lord, the dance of the bocha is a part of our tradition. These dancers are our flowers. What we do has been there before us and will be there after us....
Byaltsev. You are quite right – it will be there, until someone puts a stop to it.
Takhir. You are offending us with your words and actions... it may cause an upheaval against Russians.
The people will not understand you. you wish for no more blood to be spilled, you will initiate it to be spilled...
Byaltsev. Are you threatening me? You are wrong – the law is the same for all of us. And if it were a Russian standing here instead of you he would face the same treatment. I’ll prove it to you...
Takhir holds up his hands to his chest and exits silently.
Byaltsev. What a character!
And the rose! Did you see it?
Zvyaginsev. Mr. Colonel, perhaps my words do not mean very much…
Zvyaginsev. The art that the owner is involved in...
This dance… you have to let go of all our dogmas in order to…
Byaltsev. I am completely impartial to it, Mr. Zvyaginsev. I just don’t want my son Mitya, when he comes to Tashkent, to meet in school an admirer of bocha dances
Zvyaginsev. I am going to go mad...
14.
The Garden.
Nezhdanov is continuing the zeal. The adolescents participate in his vision (the episode of “Zeal with the Pomegranate: the bathing in the pond”)
Nezhdanov: (a poem in prose).
I woke up one morning and the whole garden was under water.
A local river must have spilled out of its borders from the rain.
I ended up on an island and somehow remembered
how a porcupine stole a piece of soap from me at night. Why would a porcupine need soap?
I was standing on an elevation next to the duval:
how can I escape this water imprisonment?
I noticed in the blue water flowing branches and leafs
petals of fall flowers with ants and ladybugs
and dragonflies that have not been able to escape the doings of nature,
moving their little feet and, like me, looking around: where is dry land?
I start to feel lonely. Suddenly I see a reflection of myself.
A second later I realize that it is not me,
it is him, - handing a pomegranate to me. It is him, who attracted me enchantingly.
He headed for the water
and as soon as he began to take off his shirt by the collar...
suddenly came night.
The change between night and day was sudden, but there was enough time,
to notice sparks between his skin and the cotton fabric of his shirt.
I froze in silence, holding my breath.
He came out of the water – and suddenly again
night turned into dawn, the sun flared up with heat...
and instantly the whole garden was dry.
15.
Tea-house in Sebzar.
This scene happens simultaneously with the latter. Takhir is alone in the empty Choi-Khona.
Takhir. (playing with a quail. This may be a duet with a boy who timidly hides his bird in its cage – a motive that appears in several of the painter’s paintings).
(a poem in prose)
Recently everyone has forgotten what our old songs were about.
The image of the quails and birds in them was the mystery of human revelations.
Who would redden upon seeing a young man feeding a bird from his mouth nowadays,
Timidly exposing the cage covered in colored material.
Or take it into your hands and let it touch your friend,
to give the feeling of closeness – is that not the peak of an ecstasy?
All words have become coarsened, the difficult times have forced people to forget the bird language.
And so they live, as best they can, it is easier to pay for foolish whims...
And less poetry happens between them.
Khushtors appear inside the Choi-Khona looking grave with a heavy gaze, like the musicians in the painting «Bocha- dutar player». Only in between them sits not a boy but Takhir.
1st Khushtor. Peace to you, Takhir-djon (djon = dear).
2nd Khushtor. And a good health.
Takhir. And you as well…
1st Khushtor. Why won’t you face us, Takhir-djon?
Takhir. I am feeding my favorite quail.
2nd Khushtor. You have a favorite quail?
Takhir. Yes…
1st Khushtor. So what is its name?
Takhir. Alisher.
2nd Khushtor. You named it a human name?
Takhir. Yes. I picked it up when it was hungry and lost from its flock…
1st Khushtor. You saved it, Takhir-djon. The heavens will remember that.
Takhir. …If not for its beauty, then its life would have been quite miserable and without any love.
2nd Khushtor. So where are our handsome favorites, Takhir-djon?
Takhir. They are not here...
1st Khushtor. You are lying to us.
2nd Khushtor People saw them with a Russian man.
Takhir. We never had a deal that you would demand them at your desire.
2nd Khushtor You have forgotten, Takhir-djon, about who helped you buy this Choi-Khona and who helps you maintain it…
Takhir. They will be here later
2nd Khushtor. We are not going to have our party later!..
Takhir. Go to hell with your party!
Two of them I know well, the third keeps hiding his face for some reason. I don’t know why,
Ah! The quail got inside my sleeve…
Why did you get in there? There is no freedom at all!
2nd Khushtor. It seems as if you are trying to make a fool of us.
Takhir. I think I found it!.. It is the heart beating so fast…
2nd Khushtor. Suit yourself. We’ve stopped liking you. We will find a different Choi-Khona owner.
A third figure appears, a figure that has been hidden before.
Takhir. Barantacha Shokhrukh? I recognized you! What is it in your hand?!
Give that back! It does not belong to you, it belongs to…my quail.
Makhmud comes back into the garden... He does not look well....He is shaking and cannot speak...
Makhmud. He is killed…
Nezhdanov. What…what is wrong?
Makhmud. He is killed…
Karim. Calm down...
Makhmud.
Alisher. Who are you talking about?
Makhmud...I ran, turned around and his head was following me...A huge head...
A vision: The owner. His head separates from its body and fills up all of the space in the garden.
Makhmud. He is gone… He is killed.