Free A Curse on Dostoevsky by Atiq Rahimi

finally, in the darkness of the corridor. “Rassoul? Is that you?” asks Sophia’s voice. Rassoul panics and tries to speak, forgetting his muteness; his lips move in vain to explain that he has come to find her, that her mother is very worried. It makes Sophia laugh. “What’s the matter with you? I couldn’t hear a word,” she says, moving closer. Rassoul freezes as he sees another silhouette emerge from the corridor behind Sophia. It is Nazigol.
    “Nana Alia disappeared yesterday. No one knows where she is …” exclaims Sophia.
    Rassoul stares at Nazigol, not knowing what to do, or think, or say. Nana Alia is no longer here. That’s the only thing they know. How should he receive this news? Should he be glad? Or suspicious?
    Nazigol takes a step closer. “When I came yesterday evening, no one was in. My mother never goes out without leaving someone here, especially in the evening.” Rassoul stares at the two girls, increasingly stunned and increasingly secretive.
    Nazigol turns to Sophia. “When I found the house empty, I was afraid to stay here alone. I closed all the doors and left …” Her voice tapers off. All sound fades. Rassoul can no longer hear anything, or see anything. There is just a hole, a black hole, the corridor, silent and morbid, a deep, endless abyss with no way out.
    He staggers dumbly into the house, and Nana Alia’s fat body appears on the stairs at the end of the corridor. He says hello. She asks him what he wants. The smoke from her cigarette, caught in a ray of light, obscures her face. Rassoul walks along the passage and holds out a watch that he promised her the other day. She says she has no more money to pawn it. He begs her, swearing that he will only leave it for a day or two. It is a precious watch, full of jewel bearings. He bought it in Leningrad. He only wants two thousand afghanis. Nana Alia takes a step back, suspicious. She can’t understand why Rassoul is wearing a
patou
in this heat. She asks him. He says that he is ill, feverish. She takes the watch and looks at it. The hands say nine minutes past six—it doesn’t work.
    It does normally work, but the battery has died. Rassoul would have replaced it if he had the cash.
    Nonsense! This is an old wind-up watch. It doesn’t use batteries! She tries to give it back. He won’t take it. He begs her again, just two thousand afghanis. The watch contains twelve precious jewels. Look—it says so on the back.
    No, she doesn’t want it. Rassoul insists. The watch is Russian, an excellent brand. She can give him whatever she wants, damn it! But the old lady is increasingly suspicious of Rassoul, who is now trembling. He grabs her hand and puts it to his forehead so she can feel how feverish and exhausted he is. He hasn’t eaten for two days. She pulls back her hand, hesitates, then agrees to take the watch but on one condition: that he lets his fiancée return to work; otherwise, she will retrieve her money the very next day, and what’s more she will kick out his fiancée and her whole family. Rassoul agrees. As soon as he leaves here, he’ll go to Sophia and ask her to return to work.
    The old lady is about to go, but turns back to tell Rassoul something: from now on it will be she, and she alone, who decides what time Sophia leaves work. He nods.
    Then she instructs him to wait in the passage, and heads for the stairs. As soon as she’s upstairs Rassoul is on the move—stealthy, anxious and upset. The ax he has hidden beneath his
patou
is becoming more and more burdensome; his arms, weak; his legs, stiff. He struggles to climb the stairs, to reach the upstairs corridor where he sees Nana Alia opening a little door.After a short hesitation she enters the room and closes the door behind her. Rassoul staggers up to the door. He puts an ear to it and listens to the sound of cupboards being opened and shut. He takes a deep breath, kicks down the door and rushes at Nana Alia, who is counting a wad of notes by the