Read Online The Colonel by Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Free Book Online

beating and bashing me all over with that piece of stone, which had probably come from a tomb in a cave, trying to break every bone
in my body, and my mouth was full of blood and shit and I couldn’t shout, but I could hear the cries coming from the throats of the people in their streets, in their alleyways and in their homes, as they were crushed between those two little pieces of black gravestone. Voices… screams. I had lost so much blood and I had vomited up so much blood that I was fainting. I’m amazed I didn’t die.”
    â€œAh, colonel, it’s you. I’m not dead, am I?”
    â€œNo, not yet, my son.”
    the colonel’s reply to his suddenly aged son came from the creaking of his own bones. Sitting there dazed, with his teeth clenched, he seemed incapable of further speech. He was struggling to keep his composure, telling himself that he must not be shocked or surprised by anything, whether it was by Amir not calling him his father or by his disinhibited obscenities. the colonel had begun to think that the strangest things could happen in life, and that mankind had been created to go through life in a string of bizarre experiences, then to die with its eyes wide open in amazement, proud of never having been shocked by anything.
    So why should he now be shocked to see his son reduced to this state – his eldest son, who had witnessed his mother’s murder so manfully that he had become almost an accomplice in the deed? Just for a moment it crossed his mind that he should take Amir to hospital, but he dismissed it immediately as pointless. He remembered that the city hospital was overflowing and that the only psychiatrist had gone mad and had been locked up in one of the cells of the Tehran mental asylum, accused of being a spy, and was undergoing ‘re-education.’
    He decided to tell Amir the news that his sister had been hanged, thinking that the shock might shake him free him his
nightmares. After all, you were supposed to be able to snap people out of shock by giving them another one. It was no fault of the colonel’s that he had never been a psychologist. There were other reasons that prompted the colonel’s decision. It would soon be morning and he had to get on with burying his daughter because, if he hung about any more and did not get back in time, it would be too late and he might lose her. He also thought of taking Amir with him: for one thing, he could do with a hand burying her, plus it would be a good way to get Amir out of the house for some fresh air. More than ever, he was deeply anxious about leaving Amir alone. If he didn’t take Amir along with him, he would not be able to concentrate on the job in hand. He took the plunge:
    â€œParvaneh has been hanged.”
    â€œReally?”
    That was all he said. He just looked at his father, as if frozen. the colonel saw a frightening change come over him, as his whole face took on the expression of an old man now at peace. There was a long silence while the colonel sat quietly, waiting for Amir to react. Amir finally took his eyes off his father’s face and hung his head. Then, as if totally unaffected by the news, as if struggling with a geometry problem:
    â€œWasn’t she too young to be hanged?”
    the colonel had no reply to that. He took his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and studied it to work out how long it was left before the dawn call to prayer. Putting it back in his pocket, he felt for the knot holding the shroud together. As if giving his son an ultimatum, he pronounced his last word on the subject:
    â€œI’m going to the cemetery. I’m going there to bury Parvaneh. Are you coming with me?”

    Amir, still staring blankly in front of him, drained of colour and petrified, suddenly began to shake. His whole body shook stiffly, as if he was having a bout of malaria. His teeth started to chatter and his hands began to punch one against the other, as if some