The Rage

Sardar Timur was foaming from the mouth, pure hate resonating. It was scribed all over his grimacing face, his intimidating frame in battle-ready position. His eyes fixed on Gul while pointing the loaded Beretta M9 handgun steadily and with purpose at his head. Gul was desperate for a way out but unable to muster enough courage to utter a single word, let alone seek forgiveness.

The tall, solidly built man looked around, jet black eyes keenly scanning everything, and began to pace back and forth, thumping the ground with his thick-soled boots, like a giant from a folkloric Lake Saiful Muluk tale. The dust under his feet flew up and around him like hot steam from a raging furnace seemingly animated. He held a leash in his left hand. Gul’s neck was encircled in a collar on the other end of that leash and attached through a metal loop. There were spikes on the inside of the collar that spurred his neck and if he didn’t keep pace, Sardar Timur would tug on the leash in order to remind him. In the background three ferocious Doberman Pinschers barked and growled incessantly, trying to break free from the chains that tied them to steel poles set firmly in the hard ground. Their keepers were engaged in an unsuccessful struggle to pacify them.

Farah stood with her mother Sarah Khanum, on the balcony above, her weakened and trembling legs barely able to support her and her hands clasped in front of her paralyzing her even further. Her eyes were following Sardar Timur, her father, who avoided eye contact with her. The occasional glances he did throw her way made her flinch. She tried to recall the events of the afternoon. Haphazard images flashed in her mind, impressions, and moments that she couldn't piece together. Everything felt disjointed.

It had all started in the early afternoon hours during her conversation with Chaman. Her curiosity about men and her need to understand them and know more about them–other than the angry and dominant forms of brothers and father–was half satisfied by her association with Chaman. After all, he was a man once, a complete man, perhaps.