The Other Side Read Online Free PDF Page A

future.

    My wife was feeling well. The longer the journey went on, the livelier she became. She was adapting, she claimed. I couldn’t understand how, but deep down inside I felt envy tinged with admiration. The train stopped for a short while in Merv. In a siding was a goods train with some wagons full of old iron and other junk. Perhaps a consignment for Pearl, I thought, staring at them. A Dream consignment!
    My wife began to get worried about me. She didn’t like the way I was wallowing in visions of the future.
    ‘You’re missing out on the enjoyment of the journey. All the exotic sights, the fantastic costumes and, well, everything might just as well not be there as far as you’re concerned. Usually we just have to step outside the door for you to have your sketch-book at the ready and now you’re hardly looking out of the window at all.’
    She sighed and, yes, she was right. But I said nothing. I can’t stand women sighing. Then she stroked my hand. ‘Whatever splendid triumphs the future may bring, we shouldn’t ignore present reality entirely.’
    I went over to the window of our compartment. The station was teeming with a motley throng, people of all different nations: long-limbed Georgians, Greeks, Jews, Russians in furs, Tartars, slitty-eyed Kalmucks, even some Germans. There were thousands of interesting things to be seen. People were haggling–talking and shouting–over pelts, Turks appeared with veiled women, an Armenian tried to sell me some fruit, he even tried to palm a packet of saffron off on me. What use would I have for it?

    The bustle increased. Departure time was approaching. At the rear huge bales of silk were being loaded. Every time one was lifted there was a funny word which sounded like ‘Quack’ to me. A handsome man in Circassian uniform–presumably an officer–was saying goodbye to his friends. He got into the neighbouring compartment. All of this, and more, was highlighted in the darkness by the station lamps. Decidedly a picturesque scene.
    Our train set off. At the back of the concourse I just caught sight of a pile of barrels. I had been familiar with them since Baku, they had stunk the boat out.
    ‘Do you like it, dear?’ a voice asked.
    ‘Just checking the accuracy of travel literature’, I replied in a matter-of-fact voice.
    II
    I didn’t feel too good that night. In those days I adored the idea of an adventure, but it had to be something out of the ordinary, not some cliche. Of course, ten days of unbroken travel had taken its toll. I felt wretched! I tossed and turned on my apology for a bed and moaned and groaned.
    ‘This Dream state’s just a hoax, you’ll see’, I said to my wife. ‘We’ll be carted off to some more or less inaccessible hole where we’ll be expected to admire Patera and all his rubbish, just because he’s rich. A rich man doesn’t impress me just because he’s rich. And the money won’t last long, either, I can see that coming already. They’ll charge outrageous prices and take it all back from us.’
    I was in a bad mood, full of a deep sense of disappointment and pessimism. We were still traveling eastwards and, despite its oriental appearance, everything looked just the way you would imagine it at home. ‘And what will we find at the end of all this?’ I mused. ‘A few houses of various sizes, an enclave of foreigners, a park. I’m letting myself be shaken half to death by the train just for that?’

    My wife tried her best to comfort me. ‘If we don’t like it, we’ll just go back home again’, she said. ‘So far there’s been nothing to justify such a black mood.’
    ‘That agent was a sly customer. He should never have been let past the door. Why didn’t you warn me?’
    ‘And the money?’ she asked with a smile.
    ‘Please don’t mention that money again. If you’re as rich as Patera you can easily afford to splash out the odd million if you fancy some decent company.’
    With a yawn I turned my back on my