TASLIMA NASREEN (Bangladesh)

story

It's been seven years since I got married, and I still haven't had any children. My husband's relatives constantly nagged me about this: "What a sin we have committed by choosing a barren woman as our son's bride! How can I look people in the eye now? If he had married someone else, the house would be full of kids by now."

They found flaws in everything I did. The food I cook is inedible; the laundry I wash is dirty; I don't know how to clean or keep house. I wasn't invited to weddings and family gatherings, as my presence could bring trouble. And when important guests came to the house, I was chased out into the kitchen like a dog.

Such treatment left me in a constant state of melancholy. I sent a message to my parents asking them to come and take me home. Finally, my father and brother arrived. And they said right from the doorway: "This is your family now, and you must live here until you die. Remember, your paradise is under your husband's feet." So they left.

I was shown to healers who removed the taint, exorcised from evil spirits and hung with amulets to cure me of infertility. Finally, one day, a real doctor from the hospital came and told me to take a lot of tests.

"What other tests?" my husband asked.

- Both spouses must pass infertility tests.

"Will she have a baby after these tests?" Men don't need to be tested at all, " the husband grumbled.

I convinced him to go to the hospital together. There they took my blood and urine for analysis, and my husband was taken to a separate room. When I asked him what they did to him there, he didn't answer. Ten days later, the results came back. God knows what was in them. The husband tore up the papers, exclaiming, " Nonsense!"

"Why nonsense?" I asked.

"It says here that I can't have children. Nonsense! Like I didn't know what was going on. Men my age come in five minutes, and I hold on for half an hour. And with such masculine strength, I'm not capable of having children?!

I realized that now my husband's family will not calm down until my death. My mother-in-law started looking for a new bride for her son, and he didn't mind. All of them constantly proved to me that the only purpose of a woman is to give birth as much as possible. And I was beginning to think that if I couldn't achieve the goal I wanted, then what was the point of continuing this pointless, fruitless life?

To drown out my melancholy, I immersed myself in household chores: peeling vegetables, cooking food, washing dishes all day. My mother-in-law did not seem to notice my efforts and only tortured neighbors and relatives to see if they had a suitable girl in mind for her son. My husband's second marriage was a done deal, and even my parents said, " A husband is everything to a woman. Many women have to endure and live alongside their husbands ' other wives. There's no shame in that. After all, it's not Latif's fault that you couldn't bear his child."

And just when it seemed that all hope was lost, our house suddenly became animated. The household was discussing the news that a holy Feast that cures infertility had arrived from Medinipur. I didn't believe it, because the doctor said we wouldn't have any children. Then where do they come from? Can a Peer cancel a doctor's diagnosis? My husband suggested: "Let's go and make one last attempt. Uncle Salim had no children for 12 years, and after the blessing of the Feast, my aunt became pregnant."

Okay, I've made up my mind. That morning, my mother-in-law told me to wash myself thoroughly, as I needed to take a bath before going to the Feast. She took a raw egg with her, saying, " Pir will cook this

an egg in the palm of your hand. As soon as you eat it, you'll get pregnant." I laughed, " What are you talking about? What is the connection between a boiled egg and childbearing?"

My mother-in-law glared at me: "None of your business. Mr. Pir is a saint. God gave him the power to work miracles. What is impossible will be possible, if Allah wills it."

Meanwhile, a line of childless shin wives lined up at the Feast house, their eyes bright with hope. My mother-in-law and I sat on the veranda and waited for the reception. Finally it was our turn and we went inside. Pir was sitting directly in front of us, leaning on the cushions with both hands. He fixed me with a piercing stare. His mother-in-law bowed before him, touching the tips of his legs with her hand. She told me to bow, too, but I froze in place. Then she gave me a hard shove in the side, and I obeyed. While I was bowing, Pir extended his leg towards me. The leg was very white and clean.

We sat down on the carpet, where a man was already sitting with a donation box. "Pay five thousand dollars before you talk," he said in a metallic voice. The mother-in-law was prepared and, taking money from the folds of her burka, paid. Only then did Pir speak: "How many years have you been living without children?" My mother-in-law answered for me, because I was silent, staring at the floor and feeling like a sinner accused of murder. Pir laughed and exclaimed, " It looks like your daughter-in-law is painfully shy!"

I looked up and saw that he was smiling. Deciding that I should smile too, I twisted my lips into a convulsive grimace. "When was Begum's last period?" Pir asked. When I heard the word "period," I blushed from ear to ear with shame and didn't answer. My mother-in-law also remained silent. "Begum should be back on the twelfth day after her period starts," Pir said in a resonant voice. "Then bring the egg." By the will of Allah, she will eat the egg and give birth."

We bowed and left, taking the egg with us. Outside, a crowd of thirsty women filled the veranda and courtyard. Each woman had an egg in her hands. My mother-in-law chattered without closing her mouth:

"I should like to get my son married again soon, but Pir Baba promises you good luck." We'll wait another month.

- Why should you eat an egg on the twelfth day after your period? And if you eat it another day, there will be no children?

- It is necessary to eat the egg at the time set by Allah.

- Does Allah act according to the menstrual cycle?

"Don't touch the name of Allah," her mother-in-law snapped.

At night my husband asked me: "Did you see him cooking an egg in his hand?"

"He didn't do anything with the egg. You know, I don't believe in these feasts and miracle workers at all. Let's find a good doctor instead. If treatment is not possible here, we will go abroad, to India.

"You have to believe in the power of Allah," my husband cut me off. There are even millionaires among them. What do you think, these rich respectable people are fools? University professors, ministers ' secretaries, even the ministers themselves... Who just does not attend feasts! Even the president of the country is lying at the feet of his mentor-feast.

My mother-in-law kept a sharp eye on my period. On the twelfth day of the cycle, she and her husband took me back to the Feast. There were many rooms in his house, each with something going on. Somewhere there was a meal going on, and the servants were serving pilaf and sweets. From another room, dhikr could be heard - the names of Allah were mentioned there. Smiling men sat and talked in some corridors, while somber women stood in others. We waited more than two hours for the saint's reception. All this time, the mother-in-law held an egg in her hand.

As we entered, the man at the box said, as before, in a metallic voice,"Five thousand." My husband quickly handed him the money. The saint smiled and picked up the egg, turning it over and over in his palm. "For your wish to be fulfilled, you must sincerely pray to Allah, don't you?" asked Pir. My husband nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, Pir slammed the egg against the rim of the cup in front of him, breaking the shell in the process. "Say the name of Allah and eat it," he ordered me. Surprisingly, the egg really turned out to be hard-boiled. I was sure it was just a trick. When I was a kid, I saw a magician at a fair who blew on a piece of brick and turned it into a guava fruit. Pir also blew on a hard-boiled egg and passed it to my husband, who literally stuffed the egg into my mouth.

Then Pir said that he had to be alone with me to breathe new life into me. The husband and mother-in-law quickly left. The saint, slowly stroking his beard with his hands, addressed me affectionately:

"Did you eat the egg, daughter?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're very beautiful." Your lips are like orange slices. How old are you?

- 27.

"You're still a young chicken. Do you want to have chickens right now?

The saint laughed , his teeth as white as turnips.

"My family wants a husband," I said, not looking up at him.

"That's the problem. Your impotent husbands don't understand the point.

Startled, I looked him straight in the eye. What does he mean by that? I felt that he was scrutinizing my face and figure, as if undressing me with his eyes. He lifted up his wide white robe and ordered: "Wait in the next room."

Although I hesitated, I had to listen to him: I had to have a baby at all costs, and I was also curious to know how a hard-boiled egg can cause pregnancy. In the next room, there were four sabers hanging on the wall, and there was a simple wooden bed. The man with the metallic voice tied two strips of cloth tightly around my eyes and mouth and told me to lie down on the bed. "Don't move," he whispered in my ear, and left.

I was lying motionless when I suddenly felt a heavy body press down on top of me. The man opened my sari and took me roughly. I resisted, and he hissed, " If you let it slip, you'll get hurt, but I won't get hurt. Your husband will divorce you, so you'd better keep quiet, don't say a word to anyone. But now you will definitely have a child, because I liked you. If women can't give birth to their husbands, other men will help them. Stupid you, how can children be born without it?"

I groaned. After 15 minutes, he got up and left, and the man with the metallic voice untied me. "All right, you can go," he said. I straightened my sari and went out to the hallway where my husband and mother-in-law were waiting. Disgust filled my throat, my mouth watered, and I searched for something to spit on. I couldn't spit in Pyr's face because I was gagged. My husband rushed over to me, a huge smile on his face:

"Did the Feast bring you back to life?"

I spat at him, but missed.

Translated from Urdu by Doctor of Historical Sciences A. A. SUVOROVA

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