I Had Raised Dust: Selected Works

by Daniil Kharms

  I thought for a bit: perhaps the dead old woman had been crawling about my room looking for her teeth? Perhaps she had even found them and stuck them back into her mouth?

  I took the product mallet and poked around in the corner with it. No, the dentures had gone. Then I pulled out of the cupboard a thick flannelette sheet and went over to the old woman. The croquet mallet I held at the ready in my right hand and in my left I held the flannelette sheet.

  This dead old woman was arousing a squeamish feeling of fear. I raised her head with the mallet: her mouth was open, the eyes rolled upwards and, on the whole of her chin, where I had landed my kick, a big dark bruise was spreading. I looked into the old woman's mouth. No, she had not found her dentures. I released her head. The head dropped and knocked against the floor.

  Then I spread the flannelette sheet out on the floor and pulled it over to the old woman herself. Then with my foot and the croquet mallet I turned the old woman over by way of her left side on to her back. Now she was lying on the sheet. The old woman's legs were bent at the knees and her fists clasped to her shoulders. The old woman seemed to be lying on her back, like a cat, ready to defend herself from a predatory eagle. Quickly, away with this carrion!

  I rolled the old woman up in the thick sheet and picked her up in my arms. She turned out to be lighter than I had thought. I put her down into the suitcase and tried to close it. I now expected all kinds of difficulties, but the lid closed comparatively easily. I clicked down the locks on the case and straightened up.

  The suitcase is standing before me with a totally decorous air, as though it contains clothes and books. I took hold of it by the handle and tried to lift it. Yes, of course, it was heavy, but not excessively so. I could certainly carry it to the tram.

  I looked at my watch: twenty past five. That's fine. I sat down in the armchair so as to have a breather and finish smoking my pipe.

  Obviously the saveloys which I had eaten today had been a bit off, since my stomach was aching more and more. But perhaps this was because I had eaten them raw? But perhaps my stomach-ache was purely nervous.

  I sit there, smoking. And minute after minute goes by.

  The spring sun is shining in through the window and I screw up my eyes against its rays. Now it is hiding behind a chimney of the building opposite and the shadow of the chimney runs along the roof, flies across the street and falls right on my face. I recall how yesterday at this same time I was sitting writing my story. Here it is: the squared paper and on it the inscription, in tiny handwriting: 'The miracle worker was on the tall side'.

  I looked out of the window. An invalid was walking along the street on an artificial leg, knocking loudly with his leg and with a stick. Two workmen, and an old woman with them, were holding their sides, guffawing at the invalid's ridiculous gait.

  I got up. It was time! Time to be on my way! Time to take the old woman off to the bog! I still needed to borrow some money from the engine driver.

  I went out into the corridor and went up to his door.

  -- Matvei Filippovich, are you in? -- I asked.

  -- I'm in -- replied the engine driver.

  -- Excuse me then, Matvei Filippovich, you don't happen to have plenty of money on you, do you? I get paid the day after tomorrow. You couldn't lend me thirty roubles, could you?

  -- I could -- said the engine driver. And I could hear him jangling keys as he unlocked some box or other. Then he opened the door and held out a new, red thirty-rouble note. -- Thank you very much, Matvei Filippovich -- I said.

  -- That's all right, that's all right -- said the engine driver.

  I stuffed the money in my pocket and returned to my room. The suitcase was calmly standing on the same spot.

  -- Now then, on our way, without further ado -- I said to myself.

  I took the suitcase and went out of the room.

  Mar'ia Vasil'evna caught sight of me with the suitcase and shouted: -- Where are ye off to?

  -- To see my aunt -- said I.

  -- Will ye soon be back? -- asked Mar'ia Vasil'evna.

  -- Yes -- I said. -- I just have to take some clothes over to my aunt. I'll be back maybe even today.

  I went out on to the street. I got safely to the tram, carrying the suitcase first in my right hand, then in my left.

  I got on to the tram from the front passenger space of the rear car and began waving the conductress over, so that she should come and take the money for my ticket and baggage. I didn't want to pass my single thirty-rouble note down the whole car and couldn't bring myself to leave the suitcase and myself walk through to the conductress. The conductress came over to me on to the front platform and declared that she had no change. I had to get off at the very first stop.

  I stood there fuming as I was waiting for the next tram. I was suffering from stomach-ache and a slight shiver in the legs.

  And then suddenly I glimpsed my delightful young lady: she was crossing the street and not looking in my direction.

  I grabbed the suitcase and rushed after her. I didn't know her name and couldn't call her. The suitcase was a serious hindrance: I was holding it in front of me with both hands and pushing at it with my knees and stomach. The delightful young lady was fairly fleet of foot and I felt that I had no hope of catching her. I was soaked through with sweat and quite exhausted. The delightful young lady turned into a side-street. When I got to the corner, she was nowhere to be seen.

  -- That blasted old woman! -- I spat, throwing the suitcase down. The sleeves of my jacket were soaked through with sweat and they stuck to my arms. I sat clown on the suitcase and, pulling out my handkerchief, I wiped my neck and face with it. Two urchins stopped in front of me and began looking at me. I put on a calm face and looked attentively at the nearest gateway, as though waiting for someone. The urchins were whispering and making rude gestures towards me. A wild fury smothered me. Oh, may they be infected with tetanus!

  And so, because of these obnoxious urchins, I stand up, lift the suitcase, take it over to the gateway and peer into it. I affect a surprised face, get out my watch and shrug my shoulders. The urchins are observing me from algal. I once more shrug my shoulders and peer into the gateway.

  -- That's strange -- I say aloud; I take the suitcase and drag it to the tram stop.

  I arrived at the station at five to seven. I take a return ticket to Lis'ii Nos and get on to the train.

  In the carriage, apart from me, there are two others: one evidently is a workman; he is tired and is asleep, his cap pulled over his eyes. The other is quite a young fellow, dressed like a village dandy: under his jacket he is wearing a pink Russian shirt and from underneath his cap protrudes a curly quiff. He is smoking a Russian cigarette, stuck into a bright green plastic holder.

  I place the suitcase between the seats and sit down. I have such spasms in my stomach that I clench my fists, so as not to groan out loud from the pain.

  Two militiamen are leading some citizen or other along the platform under arrest. He is walking with his hands behind his back and his head drooping.

  The train moves off. I look at my watch: ten past seven.

  Oh, with what pleasure will I dump this old woman in the bog! It's a pity only that I didn't bring a stick with me, as the old woman is bound to need a few shoves.

  The dandy in the pink shirt keeps looking at me impudently. I turn my back on him and look out of the window.

  Horrific seizures are raging in my belly; then I have to grit my teeth, clench my fists and strain my legs.

  We go through Lanskaya and Novaya Derevnya. Here there's a glitter from the golden top of the Buddhist pagoda and over there a glimpse of the sea.

  But at this point I jump up and, forgetting everything around me, run off to the toilet with short steps. My consciousness is being buffeted and twisted by a reckless wave . . .

  The train slackens speed. We are arriving at Lakhta. I sit there, afraid to move, lest I get thrown out of the toilet while at the station.

  -- If only
it would hurry up and get moving! Hurry up and get moving!

  The train moves off and I close my eyes in ecstasy. Oh, these minutes are just as sweet as any moments of love! All my powers are straining, but I know that this will be followed by an awful collapse.

  The train is stopping again. It's Ol'gino. That means the same torture again!

  But now it's a matter of phantom urges. A cold sweat comes out on my brow and a slight coldness flutters around my heart. I raise myself up and for a certain time stand with my head pressed to the wall. The train goes on and the swaying of the carriage feels quite pleasant to me.

  I gather all my strength and stagger out from the toilet.

  There's no one in the carriage. The worker and the dandy in the pink shirt obviously got out at Lakhta, or at Ol'gino. I walk slowly towards my window.

  And suddenly I stop in my tracks and peer dully in front of me. There, where I had left it, there is no suitcase. I must have mistaken the window. I jump over to the next window. No suitcase. I jump backwards and forwards, run up and down the carriage on both sides, look under the seats, but the suitcase is nowhere to be found.

  Indeed, is there any reason to doubt it? Of course, while I was in the toilet the suitcase was stolen. That could even have been predicted!

  I am sitting on the seat goggle-eyed and for some reason I remember the cracking sound of the enamel coming off the overheated saucepan at Sakerdon Mikhailovich's.

  -- So what's the outcome? -- I ask myself. -- Now who will believe that I didn't kill the old woman? They'll catch me this very day, either right here or in the city at the station, like that citizen who was walking along with his head drooping.

  I go out on to the outside space at the end of the carriage. The train is coming in to Lis'ii Nos. The white posts which mark off the track are flashing past. The train is stopping. The steps down from my carriage do not reach the ground. I jump down and walk over to the station office. There is still half an hour before the train back to town.

  I walk over towards a little wood. There are juniper bushes there. No one will see me behind them. I make for them.

  A big, green caterpillar is crawling over the ground. I drop down on my knees and touch it with my finger. Powerful and sinewy, it wriggles around a few times from one side to the other.

  I look round. No one can see me. A slight shiver runs down my back. I incline my head and quietly say:

  -- In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, now and for ever. Amen.

  * * * At this juncture I temporarily conclude my manuscript, considering that it is already quite long drawn out enough as it is.

  (End of May and first half of June, 1939)

  Table of Contents

  CONTENTS

  Blue Notebook No. 10 (or 'The Red-Haired Man')

  Incidents

  The Plummeting Old Women

  A Sonnet

  Petrov and Kamarov

  The Optical Illusion

  Pushkin and Gogol

  The Carpenter Kushakov

  The Trunk

  The Incident with Petrakov

  The Story of the Fighting Men

  The Dream

  The Mathematician and Andrey Semyonovich

  The Young Man who Astonished a Watchman

  Four Illustrations of How a New Idea Disconcerts a Man Unprepared for It

  Losses

  Makarov and Petersen (subtitled 'No. 3')

  A Lynching

  An Encounter

  An Unsuccessful Show

  Chunk

  What They Sell in the Shops These Days

  Mashkin Killed Koshkin

  Sleep Teases a Man

  The Hunters

  An Historical Episode

  Fedya Davidovich

  Anecdotes from the Life of Pushkin

  The Start of a Very Nice Summer's Day A Symphony

  Pakin and Rakukin

  Kalindov

  Five Unfinished Narratives

  Koka Briansky

  Aleksy Tolstoy

  On Phenomena and Existences No. 1

  On Phenomena and Existences No. 2

  On Equilibrium

  Andrey Semyonovich

  Rebellion

  Ivan Yakovlevich Bobov

  A Knight

  A Story

  An Unexpected Drinking Bout

  Theme for a Story

  Father and Daughter

  The Fate of a Professor’s Wife

  The Cashier

  The Memoirs of a Wise Old Man

  Comprehensive Research

  The Thing

  A Man Left His House

  A Tale

  The Connection

  A Nasty Character

  How I Was Visited By Messengers

  DLROW

  A New Talented Writer

  They Call Me the Capuchin

  The Artist and the Clock

  I Had Raised Dust

  A Shortish Gent

  Knights

  The Lecture

  Myshin's Triumph

  The Falling

  Perechin

  The Obstacle

  A Fairy-Tale from the North

  Symphony No. 2

  Acquittal

  How I Was Born

  The Incubating Period

  Memoirs ["I Decided to Mess up the Party..."]

  "I Love Sensual Women..."

  "But the Artist..."

  Foma Bobrov and his Spouse A Comedy in Three Parts

  Disarmed, or Unfortunate in Love Tragic Vaudeville in One Act

  How a Man Crumbled

  "I didn't go in for blocking up my ears..."

  On the Circle

  On Laughter

  On Time, Space and Existence

  From 'A Tract More or Less According to a Synopsis of Emerson' On an Approach to Immortality

  Letter to the Lipavskys

  A Letter to T. A. Meyer-Lipavsky

  A Letter

  Letter to K. V. Pugachova: an Extract

  Letter to his sister Ye. I. Yuvachova

  Letter to Aleksandr Vvedensky

  The Old Woman