The Story of A Trouble Maker
As the sky was getting dark the curved old man heard the bell’s tolling. Although he could hardly hear the voice of the shouting guards he simply understood the strolling time was over and he had to go to his dark cramped cell. Those moments to prisoners seemed like a compulsary separation inflicted upon little children who were playing and getting the most of enjoyment with their toys. It wasn't so bitter to the old man as it seemed to the rest since to him leaving his cell on the walls of which there was no space left for him to leave a sign of another passed day had no reason but feeding a pairs of white pigeons that he was receiving as his only visitors for a month or two after having no one for more than fifteen years. It was someday in month of Bahman, the freezing weather made him to do most of try to cover his ears safe in his ragged over coat’s collar from the sharp attack of a furious wind which was pushing him roughly to enter the cell’s gate as fast as possible.
the younger prisoners were whispering some swears targeting the guards but all what the old man cared for was setting his blur sight on the ground that was full of small holes filled with the water remained form last night’s shower. Getting aged he was no longer good at keeping up with the the pushing rest while everyone was just dashing another to go inside. He was carefully laying his left foot between two holes. All of a sudden a well built prisoner hit him so savagely that he could scarcely find himself a second to wink before a quick descend. The first part of his body which greeted the rough cold ground was his forehead.
All around him in a vague darkness was full of whispers. Two faces appeared along a narrow alleyway.A boy of six was uselessly struggling to release his hand that was captured in the tight grip of his mother who was ignorantly holding it so tight as if she was pushing a piece of wood to break it into pieces. The boy was less often than none successful in making himself any friends since he was deeply sunk in a loneliness inflicted upon him by a too vigilant mother who deprived him of other boys’ company. Having been engaged in none of the games which were of high value to others to accept one as a member, the boy was the most hated in neighborhood.
In response to the taunts and scolds that boys in neighborhood gave him, he was so swift in taking actions. He often got himself into an already lost game of changing blouse with other boys as a result of which each time he returned home in many wounds and bruises. His mother trying to correct his character, each time condemned him to spend all his time isolated at home.
As time passed and he entered the tyranny of his teenage he was no longer concerned with being afraid of the false fear he had from his mother. This igorance brought him a doubled joyous redemption. Afterward he had practically learned how not to obey any out coming obligation and he was quite good at turning such matters easily down with a fixed refusal. At school he was also a trouble maker who by no force was neither studynig nor doing any least of homework. The punishment for being such outrageous and heedless to a student’s affair was severely physical to which he was accustomed so that he was shedding no single drop of tear while receiving his verdict.
H usually had the strangest of pretexts to escape a day or two from school. Actually he was smartly good at the business so that he spend most of his time with a group of friends he had made at the old section of market instead of bearing the long hours of school.
At the southern corner of the old market in a garage of trucks there was an old smoky cafe in which truck drivers used to smoke hookah and drink their dark tea. He and his recently made friend who mostly belonged to similar socio-economic background used to meet on a regular basis whenever he could give an intelligent escape to school and all it related matters. They had their own rejoicing of smoking and drinking tea, after each time they rushed into the old market and left some staff in crowded shops where the occupied shopkeepers were simply far ignorant from keeping an eye on rubbers.
Despite of all such impudence and being heedless to matters of his age he never evaded reviewing his books during the exam days, he studied well and passed courses . His good marks where always so surprising to teachers who couldn't believe such results gained by a trouble maker so they put special vigilantes on him while he was quickly taking the exam, filling up the exam paper ,handing it to vigilantes and leaving the session.
He was entering adolescence. Third grade of high school, and some scattered bunch of hair on his chicks and lip made him so proud. His agility and being adroit at works that required a tough man to do them at once won him a part time job at a printing office next to his high school. The undisputed payment at the end of each week plus the access to the newly published book turned into a separation gap between him and friends out of school. He spend almost the rest of his day at printing office and delivering the books to bookshop, therefore he couldn't buy any time to spend at the cafe in the corner of the garage in old market.
He was an adroit trolley driver though first pushing it forward on slope areas in crowded streets was a little hard but after a month or two he was quite good at business. The variety in colors and subjects finally left an addiction of book reading on him. In the beginning he was less informed of values and concepts of a good book and spent hours awake at night reading well sold novels. He was falsely convinced that a good book is the one which every body is a fan of it.
One day while sitting on a sand mole next to the water tank in the corner of the small garden located in the southern part of the school yard he was voraciously reading a copy of a newly translated novel that he had wasted half of his monthly wage to buy it. All of a sudden the school’s vise striking him by a strip and shouting on him with an insult as a complement to his savage action said: “you deaf!!Haven’t you heard the bell?! Go to the class or I’d.....” the young boy couldn't stand it any more, his entire body was shaking out of anger when he objected: “what the hell are you going to do? I don’t any bloody like to attend the oppressed teacher’s class like you who has nothing to say but badgering about insufficient money they receive for their marvelous teaching nonsense, I hate them and you wild bull dog, you have inherited nothing but savagery from your tartar ancestors.” The vise was fully shocked with eyes and mouth wide open in an unbelievable amazement.
What happened between them was a shame to any school’s vise’s behavior in dealing with student. He had tried to correct the student’s impudence by striking him and that had turned into a fight and both sides had given each other bruises under eyes. The battle scene had been viewed by many teachers and student who couldn’t easily stop it since the warriors were brutally fighting. Within an hour the head of school having seen no sorrow in boy’s eyes decided to end up his educational life and he happily left the school forever.
He spent the entire day wandering around the city in a confusion since he couldn’t realize what and why had just happened to him. In the evening he found himself in front of the old cafe in the garage. He saw his forgotten friends all became truck drivers’ assistants, laughing and smoking hookah among the truck drivers. In the midst of ignorant friends it was Raoof who noticed his presence outside of cafe, he drew every one else’s attention to him. All the talking and laughing friends were mute when Raoof stood up and walked out, hugged him and bestowed him three or four kisses on his cold cheeks. Nader was so oblivious and reticent for he had the least of possible whim to be there again.
Once again Nader was easily accepted by his friends; perhaps every one who was such good to be behaved as an old member just after he had puffed the hookah whose pipe was in a transfer from one’s hand to the rest around each table. After two hours and having three time tea and smoke when every one’s boosting about drinking, roads and trucks finished it was the torrents of questioning eyes’ gazes upon Nader’s face which painted in notorious bruises narrated half the story as well as the other half reluctantly narrated by him.
No more than talk of taking journeys around the country and experiencing the real life of a truck driver’s assistant was required for him to agree in case of any opportunity he’ll accept the job at once. After three days Raoof informed him a driver named Morad who made the deliveries of an iron factory who is in the search of an assistant and he’s already accepted him as Raoof had offered him.
Ignoring the remarkable wage the obsessive idea of finding opportunity to drive a truck in probable prospect was the reason he sent his approval to Morad. He got accustomed to temperament of Morad and the cold or hot weather while travelling from one city to another sooner than what he expected. The belief he found in vacant roads that have no conflicts with any one was such strong for him so that he even didn’t think of any better job with more comfort inside his home town.
After three years being in company of Morad in each single journey by and by he was permitted to sit behind role and drive the truck covering for Morad whenever he felt somehow tired. He was at age of 22 still not qualified to get any driving license required for driving a truck; beside that the compulsory military service was more than an ordinary problem to decline him in getting a license. To him the only short enjoyment while driving a truck though for a short time could give him a false pride of feeling like a grown up man was enough to remain in job.
One day at noon when it was the usual time for Morad to take a nap a thick fog was covering the entire road and a showering rain added to difficulty of driving. The weather and roads’ condition forced Morad to keep driving although he was so sleepy. After 50 kilometers he stopped the truck in a lay by parking and told Nader to check the wheel and oil as well while he’s taking a nap. Nader reminded him that they are already late since they had got a flat tire last day and were stopped more than four hours at police stop given the fat that there was such a heavy snow.
Morad had sold his own truck last year and for recent months they were working for a private company of transporting petrol. They both knew if they are once late half of their wage is gone as a condition of job that they had accepted when they agreed to cooperate with company. Finally Morad consented to take his usual nap when he saw the young man’s insistence and promise of a careful driving.
Nader was driving so carefully and attentively that nothing could occupy his mind but the driving. The rain and fog both getting worse, he could hardly see the lights of cars that were coming in opposite line. There was a whispering sound which told him to give up and wake Morad to drive but in his other ear another voice was so tempting him to finish it up and prove that he has grown up.
Despite of being vigilant and focusing on road at a hard turn to left he suddenly notice a car coming towards him in line which seemed to belong to him, he was in sudden repulse of terror tried to make a sign, but the distance was so close it was too late for pushing the break even if he had time on such a slippery road it was of no use. he tried to change his line and getting into the opposite one to let the car pass but as he wanted to change line he saw the mountain range at the left side, he noticed that it was him who was driving in the wrong line not the other car, he made a useless effort to go into his own line, that was too late not only he hit the car but also he couldn’t control falling down into the valley at the right side of road. For a few moments he heard and saw nothing, when he opened his eyes he saw something in blazes of fire and his body all in pain. Again every thing became dark and he felt nothing afterward.
Beyond the dark picture before of his eyes the old man heard an unclear voice which was asking:”can you hear me? Can you talk?” the doctor of infirmary ward of prison when saw the movements of old man’s eyes’ pupils helped him lean back to the wall. The picture got clear and he could identify the doctor face. “There’s nothing to worry about your head is injured it’s just two stitches. You may have some pain on it but I’ll give you some sedative to sleep in comfort” said the doctor. Doctor's short lecture reminded the old man that all what he saw was a dream that he experienced before entering the prison, a bitter nightmare from result of which he could never escape.
He was released from the infirmary within two hours and he was escorted to his sell. He wasn't willing to sit on his old chair next to his bed and reading literary or philosophical books, nor did he have the impulse to right down his sweet fancies any more. He had almost read all the books on history, philosophy and literature that he could find in prison’s library from European and American writer’s great novels to Plato and Aristotle’s writings. He had enjoyed it for many years the only thing he liked more than freedom and a return to a strange society that he couldn’t imagine how it would accept his today's ego after 28 years.
He had enjoyed his solitude in prison for years. Believing that he would understand the real meaning of life by reading famous and great writer’s works, he had himself many time not to be transferred to public section instead he had like to be alone in his individual in cell.
That day every thing was different, he had realized he is really old and he had made no beneficent use of his life. He was confessing to himself that no matter how enriched one internal life would be, but by the time he is so far from the stir of society, its corruptions, mistakes, crimes, success and failures his life is but a waste.
In the afternoon of the next day when the bell was tolling as usual, the pigeons who were the only visitor of old man after such long years were expecting his arrival and feeding them by pieces of his stale bread. Unlike usual they were strangely gazing on queue of prisoners who were getting out of the lines gate as if they had sensed something had happened.
“Isn’t he coming today?” one of the pigeons asked. “Perhaps he is released” the other answered. The one standing so closer to the fence continued “I hope he’s not released yet” the other objectively said “how do you say such thing? Do you like to be imprisoned in a cage but being fed everyday?” “No, I just mean I’m accustomed to his stale bread I don’t like to go after worms or finding any food in garbage.” The other one in response said:”I also don’t like to bother searching food but I like him to be free, I wish he’s released. I’m just amazed how he didn’t show any sign of that” “I agree with you we could easily see changes in his face whenever he was thinking to something.”
The talk of pigeons led them no where as well as their useless waiting for the old man. Despite of fact that they knew he’ll not appear any more several day they just went to the prison and waited him. They attended the place on their regular basis they couldn’t just refuse going there they felt sort of commitment. Poor pigeons couldn’t understand that spending the time of a sentence until it is finished is not the only way to freedom. Perhaps they couldn’t understand his verdict is of that sort which will never be broken by a sudden forgiveness.
The old man had only made a decision, he didn’t keep himself bearing an unending bitter life in prison, and perhaps his freedom was in his own hands. Perhaps it was him who had imprisoned himself. He made a bitter decision which was somehow sweet to him. All such thoughts made him to make a decision and he finally made it.
Written by: Wise Warbler
