She is quite carried away by this revelation. Beside herself, she takes a step forward to continue her speech, but a hand, behind her, reaches out and grabs her wrist. She turns round. It’s the man, her man, who has taken hold of her. She doesn’t move. Thunderstruck. Mouth gaping. Words hanging. He stands up suddenly, stiff and dry, like a rock lifted in a single movement.
“It’s… it’s a miracle! It’s the Resurrection!” she says in a voice strangled by terror. “I knew my secrets would bring you back to life, back to me… I knew it…” The man pulls her toward him, grabs her hair, and dashes her head against the wall. She falls. She does not cry out, or weep. “It’s happening… you’re exploding!” Her crazed eyes shine through her wild hair. “My sang-e saboor is exploding!” she shouts with a bitter laugh. “Al-Sabur!” she cries, closing her eyes. “Thank you, Al-Sabur! I am finally released from my suffering,” and embraces the man’s feet.
The man, his face haggard and wan, grabs hold of the woman again, lifts her up, and throws her against the wall where the khanjar and the photo are hanging. He moves closer, grabs her again, heaves her up against the wall. The woman looks at him ecstatically. Her head is touching the khanjar. Her hand snatches it. She screams and drives it into the man’s heart. There is not a drop of blood.
The man, still stiff and cold, grabs the woman by the hair, drags her along the floor to the middle of the room. Again he bangs her head against the floor, and then, brusquely, wrings her neck.
The woman breathes out.
The man breathes in.
The woman closes her eyes.
The man’s eyes remain wild.
Someone knocks at the door.
The man-with the khanjar deep in his heart-lies down on his mattress at the foot of the wall, facing his photo.
The woman is scarlet. Scarlet with her own blood.
Someone comes into the house.
The woman slowly opens her eyes.
The breeze rises, sending the migrating birds into flight over her body.
My thanks to
Paul Otchakovsky-Laurens
Christiane Thiollier
Emmanuelle Dunoyer
Marianne Denicourt
Laurent Maréchaux
Soraya Nouri
Sabrina Nouri
Rahima Katil
for their support and their poetic gaze
Atiq Rahimi
ATIQ RAHIMI was born in Afghanistan in 1962, but fled to France in 1984. There he has become renowned as a maker of documentary and feature films, and as a writer. The film Earth and Ashes was in the official selection at Cannes in 2004 and won a number of prizes. He is currently adapting A Thousand Rooms of Dreams and Fear for the screen. Since 2001 Rahimi has returned to Afghanistan a number of times to set up a writers’ house in Kabul and offer support and training to young Afghan writers and film-makers. He lives in Paris.
