1001 IRANIAN NIGHTS: GIRL WITH MOSCOW'S HAND

Laughing, Hajji Rukhi said that I didn't have to worry, I would be taught everything.

Romina opened her eyes again, apparently trying to calm me down:

– You're scaring my friend now! Dad bought six horses two years ago, — she explained to me. — They are stabled in Dushanbe, where we are going now. Our daddy pays for their full service, so no one really owes anything. We just like to ride, and at the same time we've all learned how to take care of them ourselves. It's interesting! And it's beautiful in Dushanbe!

— Shah Naser Al-din loved to hunt there! — Hajji Rukhi confirmed.

— Is this the one with 84 wives in tutus? — I asked, remembering Dad's stories.

Everyone laughed again and admitted that yes, this was the shah, he loved everything beautiful, and especially women and horses.

While we were finishing our tea, Roya and Romina packed their bags. I helped them put them in the trunk of the big family Mazda. The Rukhi family had two cars, both parked in the garage under the house. The Mazda van, as Romina explained to me, is used for country walks, and they will soon take the whole family to the Caspian Sea. The rest of the time, Hamid drives it on his father's business assignments. Hajji Rukhi drives an elegant long Dodge on business, and when Roya and Romina were studying far from home, Maryam Khanum drove them to school in it.

All this was amazing to me: horses that can be «bought», and cars that can be driven by 15-year-old boys and mothers. In my homeland, I saw only one woman who drove a Lada. She was my mother's childhood friend from Baku, who worked in Moscow. But this aunt Lala was an unusual person in everything else: she worked as a surgeon and wrote scientific papers. My mom used to say that Lalochka was so smart that sometimes it even got scary. None of my friends had a mom who drove a car, not even Katya's gorgeous aunt Nina, an actress. And I'm not talking about 15-year-old boys at all — the rights in the Union were granted only from the age of 18.

I found myself in a completely different life, but the values in it were familiar to me. And not at all like the mores of the «moon capitalists», which were described in «Dunno on the Moon» by the children's writer Nosov.

It said that in the world of capitalism, where you can buy and sell anything — even a house, even a horse — everyone becomes greedy, cunning and inhuman. The Rukhis had a beautiful house, two cars, several shops, and, as it turned out, six horses, but they seemed loving, kind, and caring to me.

Hajji Rukhi drove the car to the entrance. Hamid sat next to him, and Maryam Khanum came out to see us off. As I was told, she stays at home «waiting for the sheep.» I didn't really understand which sheep and why, but after the embarrassment with the horses, I was too shy to ask again. Who knows, maybe Mr. Rukhi was buying sheep too.

There were five of us again. Janet, according to Romina, was forced by her parents to prepare for retaking the math test. But she promised to come by our return, without her brother, but with a friend.

– We'll have big things to do tonight! — Romina promised mysteriously, handing me a pillow. — In the meantime, you can take a nap!

With these words, she curled up comfortably in the third and last seat of their huge car and instantly fell asleep. Roya and I also sat comfortably in the middle seat, since the thrifty Romina had brought pillows for everyone.

I must have fallen asleep too. Because when I opened my eyes, we were already on a picturesque hill covered with a bright green meadow. Laughing, Romina informed me that I had overslept the Dusan Tappe airbase, which she wanted to show me, and we were already at the place, the name of which translates as «Rabbit Hill».

It turned out that we had been driving for several hours — and all that time I had peacefully slept through!

To the right, a single blue peak rose above the broken line of mountains, propping up the clouds. I stared at it, squinting my eyes in the bright morning sun.

Romina handed me a pair of sunglasses, and Hajji Rukhi explained, pointing to the mountain: «This is our beautiful Damavand!»

There were low wooden buildings scattered here and there on the hill. Now I would call them «Alpine-style chalets,» but I didn't know such words then. We left the car in the parking lot, where there were several other cars.

Families with children were walking on the lawn. Children were running, playing ball and badminton, tennis courts and an indoor swimming pool in an all-glass cube building were visible to the side.

– Tehranis come here for the New Year holidays, — Roya said. — They live in these wooden houses. It's nice here, you can walk, breathe the air, ride, swim…

– There is a sauna, — added Romina, — it's good for the skin. And over there is our stable! — my friend pointed to a wooden building nearby.

I really liked everything around me; I thought to myself that this Shah Naser Al-din really knew what was good for him.

We went to the stable. Everyone we met on the way happily greeted Mr. Rukhi and all of us, and made sure to stop for a little friendly conversation. And since we met someone at every turn, it took us a long time to get to the stable, even though it was two steps away.

The stable was very clean, and there was that pungent horse smell familiar from the Urozhai club. On the stall of each horse there was a plaque with its name, date of birth and breed in Russian and English.

Mesmerized, I peered into the stalls and studied the signs. Colorful horses poked their muzzles through the watering holes, and my companions stroked their wet noses. At first, I was afraid to touch them with my hands, but the prudent Romina gave me a bag with sugar cubes and small carrots:

– First treat, then pets!

Time stopped and froze, because I decided to treat every horse that stuck its muzzle out to me with big purple eyes that seemed sad to me.

Maybe I didn't remember the Urozhai horses very well, but it seemed to me that the horses here were much bigger. Tall, long-legged, graceful steeds, nervously flaring their sensitive nostrils and from time to time proudly tossing their heads, waving their thick mane. I suddenly remembered the Akhal-teke woman that Ryodkin had «called» me.

– Are there any Akhal-teke here? — I asked Hamid, since he was considered the main horse enthusiast in the Ruhi family.

– Dad, — Hamid turned to his father instead of answering, — Jamila Khanum knows the Akhal-Teke breed!

– You know a lot about horses! — Roya exclaimed.

Of course, I really wanted to nod my head. But I had to admit that my dad was just telling me. I already guessed that I would be offered a ride. But I've never been closer to horses in my life than I am today. And the only horse I had ridden before was the gray-brown-crimson one that my parents had made overnight from a mop.

– Oh, good taste! Hajji Rukhi was delighted. — We just have one Akhal-teke, the most expensive in my collection. Her name is Arezu, which means «desire.» We named her that because she's wayward, like any beautiful woman. Arezu can run faster than anyone and jump higher than everyone. But if she doesn't want to, no whip can make her! A real Akhal-teke, proud and stubborn! That's what we'll put you on, since it's your favorite breed!

Apparently, horror was reflected in my eyes, because Hamid immediately added:

– Everything that the father said about Arezu does not apply to children. She loves children very much. And like any creature that knows its own worth, it will never offend someone who is smaller and weaker.

For some reason, I immediately calmed down.

The only thing that bothered me a little was that I would look like a «sack of shit» on a horse (I heard this expression on Urozhai, the trainer applied it to one of the riders). Meanwhile, Hamid brought out two horses for himself and his father, and Roya and Romina brought out a horse for themselves. Each of them patted their pet on the scruff of the neck, called it by name and talked to it as if it were a human being.

Roya explained that each member of their family has their own «sponsored» horse, which the owner visits and walks so that the pet does not forget it. Because a trainer and a groom, of course, make life easier for a horse owner, but an animal must know its owner, understand when they are in the saddle, and not one of the attendants. Even Maryam Khanum had her own black horse named Arash, which means «truth» in Farsi.

While Hamid was holding the reins of a white and red horse, Mr. Rukhi personally went to get Areza for me, and Roya and Romina promptly jumped into the saddles and rode up to me to introduce me to their mentors. The girls had helmets on their heads and whips in their hands. I felt like I was in a movie, it all looked so beautiful and unusual.

– Meet my beloved man, Anglo-trakehner Shah! — Romina declared, sitting on a tall bay horse and kissing his neck. — He's very kind, isn't he, my Shahanshah? — Just in case, don't come up from behind. Stallions don't like it, they can kick.

I completely walked away from this kicking Shah, even though he was really very handsome.

– Well, the Shah and I won't wait for you, — Romina said, — because you're too slow! Come on, honey! — She kicked the horse lightly with her heels to the side and he, bypassing the step, rushed forward, towards the bright green meadow, which seemed endless.

– Don't drive His Majesty to exhaustion, — Hamid called after her. — Walk along the flood-meadow later.

I don't know if Romina heard him, she sped off into the distance so quickly.

Meanwhile, Roya introduced her dappled gray filly to me.:

– Her name is Shahnaz, which translates as «the Shah's pride». My father says that she is your compatriot, the Orel trotter. They say they are bred in Iran after your Russian tsar presented several heads to Nasruddin Shah.

«My compatriot» was shorter than Romina’s Shah and stockier, with beautiful long bangs falling over her eyes, just like mine. But her look from under her bangs didn't seem too kind to me.

Roya ran off after Romina, and Hajji Rukhi called me. He was standing near the stable and waving at me.

– Go to the jockey room, — Hamid explained to me, «they'll give you something to change into and a stack.

At that time, I still did not know what a «jockey-room» and «stack» were, but I guessed it when I came at the call of Mr. Rukhi. He took me to the stable room: there were saddles and other accessories hanging on hooks, and for me they had prepared a helmet, a whip, thick breeches and high leather boots with flat soles.

– It's all Romina’s,– Mr. Rukhi said carefully, –it should fit the size. — If the boots are suddenly too big, shout to me, I'll bring socks. I'm right next door, — he said, and left me in the jockey room.

I inhaled the tart scent of leather, horses, and hay, mixing in the air with the clear mountain breeze that blew through the window–and this simple and complex fragrance has forever remained for me the smell of freedom.

I knew for sure that if, for example, my mother or a strict coach from the riding group were here, they might have allowed me to sit in the saddle, but with their comments, remarks and warnings they would have definitely spoiled the beauty of the moment. And the Rukhi seemed to think I was an adult. They trusted me, even though I confessed that I had never been in a saddle. They didn't even doubt that I could do it, and it gave me strength, enthusiasm, and confidence that I could really do anything if I wanted to.

Probably because of me experiencing that early feeling, riding invariably gives me back a sense of freedom and conscious choice.

All of Romina's jockey gear suited me. While I was pulling on my breeches and boots, I saw a label with the Hermes brand on it. The same thing was found on the helmet. My mother had perfumes from this company, and she often repeated that they were very expensive and for ladies, so that I would not try to put on perfume. But the fact that Hermes also produces riding equipment was a surprise to me. That was the first thing I told Dad when I got home. And Mom suggested that maybe it was another Hermes, not the ones with the perfume. But Dad said it was the one, it also produced jockey gear, only in small batches, for their regular customers.

– It's an expensive treat, — Dad added thoughtfully. — But since the Russians love their homeland so much, I'm afraid they'll have to forget about Hermes helmets soon.…