Page 51 - May 2021 Litterateur
P. 51

Short Story



                                                                                                           The Tale of Berlin

                                                                                                                Sherzod Artikov



                        - A gift from God…  Yours means so.




                        She was right. My grandfather did give this name for a purpose. My mom

                        is  said  that  she  suffered  a  lot  of  pain  while  giving  birth.  Grandfather
                        brooded  much  than  my  dad,  prayed  God  continuously  kneeling  on  the

                        mat which is used to stand in the cabinet of his bedroom to help her.



                        After that, Mushtariy stared at the street through the restaurant window

                        and whispered the meaning of her own name.



                        -Even if it isn’t interesting for you, I told it.




                        I was bonded with her by invisible strings in 6 months, I felt it from my

                        bottom of my heart. Hearing her graduation did concern me. I kept telling
                        myself:  no  reason  left  for  her  to  stay.  I  got  burned  by  a  high  level  of

                        anxiety.Surprisingly,  returning  to  the  homeland  really  bothered  her  and

                        she didn’t look like pleased like me... I can recall it:



                        -I  will  teach  German  language  at  the  school  where  I  studied-  she  said

                        desperately when I asked her future plans.



                        While saying my adieu, she returned:




                        -I miss Germany for evermore - trying not to look at my eyes.



                        3  months  have  passed  since  her  leaving.  3  months!  She  isn’t  in  Berlin

                        where full of people like robots beneath a dull sky work accurately like a

                        clock mechanism. Whenever I had time, I’d roamed to the metro station,

                        the bookstore and restaurant in Tornstrasse flooding back my emotions
                        and memories of my time with Mushtariy. I sit there hours pronouncing

                        Uzbek words and phrases one by one that she taught me. Now it hurts

                        that I can talk with no one about my grandfather’s land anymore.














                  Litterateur                                          51





                             REDEFINING WORLD
                          EDITED BY SHAJIL ANTHRU
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