The Carrousel By Ibrahim Gulistan Translated by Minoo Southgate Copyright © Minoo Southgate 1980 Prepared for the Internet by Iraj Bashiri, 2002

"Let's go out, Daddy," his daughter had asked, her hair down. He knew she was not acting on her own. But, she was his daughter, with a sparkle in her eyes; and her wish, even if originally her mother's, was now her wish. Outside the window, a bamboo curtain blocked out the light, leaving the room in soothing darkness. "All right, dear," he had said. "Go ask Mommy to braid your hair."

He was now in the foyer, standing near the door. He knew that his wife was taking her time in order to hide her interest in the outing. He leaned against the door. Then he heard his daughter approaching with the footsteps of a four-year-old. Small fingers pulled at his fingers, which were linked behind him. He took his daughter's hand. Then his wife came. He turned and looked at her, but she was not looking at him. She busied herself with the girl's hair, pretending to adjust it.

The man said nothing. He was about to turn his eyes away as she raised her head, but he decided not to.

The woman understood. She realized that he was not being contrary. She knew that he could be contrary, but did not wish to be. He always pretended to be unwilling to give in. But his wife knew that his unwillingness was only a pretense. The woman was at peace. Once more she could pretend to have triumphed, although she was aware that her husband knew that only his own magnanimity had made her triumph possible. Still, she liked to continue to pretend, to look at him coldly. Only after she had done so would she look at him warmly and become herself. Just then, she became herself--took her husband's arm, nudging the girl to go before them. They crossed the courtyard together. The man looked at the unripe apricots in the tree. The girl ran to the outside door, pulled the latch, and opened it.

In the street the sun was fading. The shadows of the trees lining the street crisscrossed the sidewalk.

"Run ahead, dear!" the woman said to the girl, who was walking between them, holding their hands. The woman wanted to free her hand.

"Do run ahead, dear! You were the one who wanted to go out," she said, aware that her husband knew the falsehood of that claim. "I want to walk between you," the girl said. The man looked at the woman. He had noticed that his daughter was slowly understanding the world of the grown-ups.

"Why didn't you go?" the woman asked the man.

The man made no answer.

"I don't understand," the woman said.

The man made no answer.

"I don't understand at all," the woman said.

"What am I supposed to do about that?" the man said.

"Swing me! Swing me!" the girl said, pulling their hands.

Neither had been giving her any attention.

"You're right, of course!" the woman said.

"You know damned well I'm right," the man said.

The girl pulled their hands again. "Swing me! Swing me!" she said.

"Did I say anything wrong?" the woman asked.

"You sounded sarcastic," the man said.

"Sarcastic, ah!" the woman said.

"Don't quarrel!" the girl pleaded.

The man glanced at his daughter with affection. Her hair was parted in the middle. Her braids were tied with silk ribbons made into a bow. The street was alive with the sounds of early summer afternoons. The setting sun sprinkled gold dust between the shadow of trees and turned the leaves light green.

"Do you remember the night when we were just married and I had company? You went to the movies and when you came back you said it felt strange to be alone."

Their hands, which were almost touching, were pulled again. "Don't Minoo, dear," the man said.

"Swing me!" the girl said, hanging from their arms.

"Stop it," the man said.

"But now you enjoy being alone," the woman said.

"Will you stop it!" the man said.

"Isn't that the truth?" the woman said.

"Zari, don't pick on me so much," the man said.

The girl pulled her hands out of theirs and began to walk away slowly.

"Do you see what you've done? Go on, keep harping," the man said.

The woman made no answer. Sadness numbed her. The man took the girl's hand.

"Let's ride the carrousel," the girl said.

The father took her in his arms and kissed her. "All right, dear. My own pretty daughter. Give me a kiss." He was suffused with a feeling of warmth at the touch of her skin. He kissed the little girl again. He felt the woman's arm touching his. He took her arm with his free hand.

They crossed the street and entered the amusement park. The unpaved

path was dry. The box branches were untrimmed, their leaves dusty.

"Daddy, go and do some target shooting," the girl said.

"All right, after your ride," the man said.

"No, Daddy, dear, you'll get bored. Do it while I'm riding the carrousel."

The woman smiled.

"All right, dear. You can ride as many times as you want. Did I say you

couldn't?" the man said to the girl, rubbing his nose against hers. The girl

squeezed her tender cheeks against his face, then kissed him.

"Nice Daddy!" she said.

They reached the carrousel. A shabby elderly woman sitting on a wobbly chair sold tickets. She wore her grey hair in a bun. Her skin was dull, her voice listless. The man bought a ticket. The children were riding the ugly swans and dwarf horses, or sitting in the small wooden seats of the carrousel, waiting for it to begin turning. The man kissed his daughter and tried to put her on a long-necked swan. But the girl wanted to get on the swan's back by herself. The man put her down. She held onto the swan's neck and got on its back with some effort. The children were talking and laughing, watching and waiting. The girl smiled at her father. He watched her eyes, her face and hair, and her simple happiness. "I'll sit here and watch you," he said.

"Then I'll have more than one ride," the girl said. "All right, two," the father said.

"No, three."

"All right, three."

"No, four."

"Now, look..."

"Didn't I tell you to do some target shooting, Daddy?"

He laughed. The woman sat down on a bench. The girl caressed the swan's neck. "Ready, children!" an unshaven man cried from the axis of the carrousel. The children's happy cry rolled into a wave of laughter. A shabby boy circled the carrousel, which was not in motion yet. He made a little boy hold tightly to his wooden horse, then stepped aside and waved his hand. The carrousel began to move. The children cheered again. The man and the woman were now sitting side by side on a bench. The carrousel was turning. The man glanced at the children, the carrousel, the garden.

"I want to talk to you," the woman said.

"Not again!" the man said.

"Yes. When I talk to you ... Why have you changed?"

"Can't you find something else to talk about?"

"I want to understand."

The carrousel was turning.

"You weren't like this," the woman said.

"Leave me alone."

"I don't understand. What is it you want?"

The man looked at her. Everything faded from his view. He could only see his wife. He looked into the woman's shining eyes. His heart warmed. He turned his head and scraped his foot on the gravel.

The carrousel stopped, but the children remained in their seats. "Every body down!" the unshaven man cried. A woman wanted to get her child down, but the child resisted. The children were holding onto their seats tightly. A girl riding a swan changed places with a girl riding a horse. The man and the woman watched the children. Their daughter gazed at them, expectant. The man noticed and nudged the woman. She rose, bought another ticket and gave it to the girl. She returned to the bench and sat down. The shabby boy collected the tickets and waved his hand. "Ready, children!" the unshaven man shouted. The children's happy cry rolled into a wave of laughter. The man waited for the carrousel to turn. He was impatient. The carrousel began to move. The man glanced at the children, whirling with the carrousel in silent pleasure.

"I don't want to go anywhere without you," the woman said.

"I know," the man said.

The carrousel hummed softly. Then it slowed down. The woman bought another ticket and gave it to the girl. She came back to the bench and snuggled close to the man. The man stretched his arm along the back of the bench; he put his finger on her shoulder, as if embracing her.

"Listen Zari, you know how much I love you," he said.

"And you know how much I love you."

"Be serious."

The woman looked at him loving and demure.

"My love," the man said, pressing her shoulder with his finger. The woman smiled.

"I really love you," the man said.

"And I love you."

"I know. If nothing else, I'm happy because you love me too. But is that enough?"

"Why do you talk like this? You always want to show that you're not happy. Why? I can't find anything wrong with us, except that you want to be a recluse."

The man pressed his eyeballs with his palms, then rubbed his palms down his face. He watched the carrousel, his chin in his hand. Their daughter passed them by on a painted, long-necked swan, disappeared behind the axis, and came to view again. She whirled round and round and, as she passed them by, the sun shed gold dust on her chestnut hair; her eyes, mouth, and face all laughing.

"Do you see that?" the woman asked. The man said nothing.

"Smile!" the woman said.

"All right," the man said.

"Be happy. Laugh, talk."

"All right."

"One must laugh, talk, have fun. Sadness, my dear, comes from within. You create sadness for yourself. You find things to feel sad about."

"I said all right."

"All right what?"

"All right. I said all right," the man said.

His daughter appeared from behind the axis, riding a wooden swan. She passed them by, then turned and threw them a kiss. When she reappeared she was clapping her hands and laughing. As the man watched, the shabby boy jumped to his feet and shouted at her. He ran until he reached her. Still running, he put her hands around the swan's neck. The girl disappeared behind the axis, the boy still running by her side. When they both came into view, she was holding unto the swan's neck, her chestnut hair dusted with gold. But there was no laughter in her eyes, face, and mouth.

The man rose. The swan whirled past him and disappeared behind the axis.

"What did you do that for?" he shouted at the boy.

"She almost fell," the boy said, glancing at him.

The carrousel brought the girl back. The man rushed to her. She was going to jump off the swan before the carrousel had slowed down. The man caught her. The swan disappeared, empty. The children were laughing and the unshaven man was turning the carrousel.

The father kissed the girl. "That's enough, dear," he said.

1950