Mahliyo Rahkimboyeva
By: Mahliyo Rahkimboyeva
Worth Noting:
- In the evening. We are all eating soup and watching TV. My grandfather has a TV set. If there is a program on TV about the Motherland or independence, I watch it with all my heart.
- For some reason, when I watch a TV show about my country, tears start to well up in my eyes. Why do I cry, why do I begin to comfort myself little by little. Even now, I really want to watch that show.
- But my grandfather won’t leave. If he doesn’t put it well, he won’t put it. I can’t bring myself to cry next to them. Maybe when I grow up I will understand why I cry. A country evening is so pleasant that it makes me a little proud.
Oh, how good, how delicious. My heart rejoices when I see the beauty of my country every day. I am not lying when I say that my village is one of the most beautiful villages in our district.
Even though I live in a remote village, I have many dreams… I pray every night before going to bed. I bless everyone. I wish you peace always. Because because of this peace, we exist, we are healthy, our cheerful smile is not a gift of this peace, tell me my friends…! I always like to start my story with good feelings and sincere words.
Village! I can’t imagine our village without hard work, hard work, and children’s fun. Our neighbor sister Habiba is a business woman. Every day, well-dressed, handsome people with brand new cars come to his house. Sister Habiba is not left behind. Their houses are taller and more luxurious than ours. This is the first rich house in our neighborhood. They have one son and one daughter. She is my roommate. A simple, handsome and polite guy. I am lucky. I am happy to have such a friend. But his brother Hadicha is a little bit of his mother. Don’t you say that she is proud and arrogant, she pretends to be the daughter of a rich man with thousands of dollars. My friend Laziz, on the other hand, does not brag about his mother’s wealth. His sister was on one side and his son on the other.
In the evening. We are all eating soup and watching TV. My grandfather has a TV set. If there is a program on TV about the Motherland or independence, I watch it with all my heart. For some reason, when I watch a TV show about my country, tears start to well up in my eyes. Why do I cry, why do I begin to comfort myself little by little. Even now, I really want to watch that show. But my grandfather won’t leave. If he doesn’t put it well, he won’t put it. I can’t bring myself to cry next to them. Maybe when I grow up I will understand why I cry. A country evening is so pleasant that it makes me a little proud.
Years later, we grew up. My friend Laziz and I were inseparable friends. His mother, sister Habiba, found a cheap house abroad. Everyone wants to go abroad. Even though my friend is against it, he wants to take her away like her mother tied her legs. Saying goodbye to Laziz, I took a handful of the fertile soil in the field and a little of the variety of flowers in the flower garden and put it in my bag. I looked at my friend blankly and said:
– Laziz, this handful of dirt reminds you of me, your country, our village. If you miss a lot, throw a flower in this soil and smell it well, then you won’t miss anyone, okay, my friend! Goodbye! Laziz could not tell me anything. Because it was obvious that he was crying inside. I also kept my weight down. It was delicious…
I started thinking about what to do now. Day and night, I read Laziz and wrote it all. A letter came from my friend about two months ago. The letter says:
Hello, my dear friend Abdulhakim. I wrote this letter crying because I miss you so much. My mother did not leave her business abroad and was caught and imprisoned. My sister and I are begging in the street. I planted a flower variety in the handful of soil you gave me. I grew up. Every day I close my eyes, cry and smell it. In front of my eyes, the village sun, the gurgling spring, the streets we used to walk and your reflection are embodied. I am a flower
I tried to sell out of desperation, but I am tormented by thoughts that I am a child who sold my country. I didn’t sell the flower. He is always my friend… always with me…
Farewell, Abdulhakim, farewell. Your beggar friend Laziz!
I read the letter again and again and sighed again and again. I realized why when I was young I would cry when I watched a TV program about the Motherland. Because I feel patriotism, homesickness, and gratitude. If the soil of the motherland is the most necessary thing for a person, let’s take care of it, preserve it, let’s flourish if necessary. My friend, Laziz has now accepted a handful of soil and flowers abroad as an image of his Motherland. Because his love for the soil is very high. Thanks to a handful of dirt, he’s still alive…still alive…
Mahliyo Rahkimboyeva is a Student of Urgench state of university
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