MEMOIRS ABOUT THE CHILD OF HOMELAND AND FREEDOM, PEOPLE'S WRITER OF UZBEKISTAN SHUKUR KHOLMIRZAEV SHORT INTRODUCTION

Bismillahir-Rohmanir-Rohim.

Shukur Kholmirza was a man of few words in literature. He had no other life than literature. There are few personalities who would be imprisoned for the sake of creativity. He did not compete with his comrades in the country, but took for himself the highest examples of world literature. He himself said: "I wrote each of these stories in accordance with the narrative of world literature..."

The impregnable level of Adib's verbal art was overshadowed by his modest life, some of his "masculinity".

In the art of love for the Motherland, devotion to the Motherland, he is one of the unique spiritual teachers of all patriotic writers.

He was a man whose heart clenched when he spoke of his homeland, when he spoke of freedom. Everyone loves their homeland. Who loves Uzbekistan as much as he does, who can sing the praises of the Surkhan oasis and the Boysun mountains in the symbol of Uzbekistan? Subsequent generations have known the love and singing of the Motherland, drawing attention to the history of the country, instilling in the hearts of the people a sense of national liberation from Erkin Vohid, Abdulla Oripov, Rauf Parfi in poetry, and in prose Shukur Holmirza was the leader in this chapter.

A MAN LIKE NO ONE, A MAN LIKE NO ONE

When I was in school, I read the book "Far Under the Stars". When I was at university, we lived in rented houses, and then in a dormitory with our classmate Muhammadklubon Kholmirzaev. He told the writer's stories so expressively, almost aloud, that listening to him was more touching than reading. In my cham, he joked that he entered the university because of his surname: because he was from the Surkhan oasis and his surname.

That was the first time I saw Shukur Kholmirza in the building of the Writers' Union (1 Pushkin Street), in the editorial office of the Vostochnaya Zvezda magazine. Fortunately, he is a man like no other, just as he was a man like no other. An outrageous sipo: beautifully dressed, handsome in himself, handsome in words, determined, with an indelible face. He attentively followed every word and action of the speaker, answered thoughtfully, one after another, energetically, sharply. We invited a classmate to a literary meeting. The man did not make a firm promise and did not come.

Later, the author met at the Faculty of Philology of the former Tashkent State University, and now the National University of Uzbekistan. Around the same time that the novel "The Last Stop" was published. There were also interesting tricks in Shoro's policy: they tried to distance her from the people as much as possible writers who evoked a national mood in the hearts of young people, instilled in them a sense of truth, touched their minds with the national spirit. On that day, students of our Faculty of Journalism were taken out to the day of the cotton harvest. I stayed under the pretext of going to the convention. Editor's ChoiceAll There was a Q&A session. Guy:

─ Dear brother for Thanksgiving! How did you fit the story of the novel into three days? he asked. Writer:

"I planned for one day, but it took three days," he replied.

Then Umarali Normatov expressed his opinion on the recommendation of the writer's work for the Youth Prize, and Shukur aka shook his hand and thanked him. But the scientist's dream did not come true: the award remained.

"WHERE ARE YOU, BIBIDZHAN, COME ON..."

In the Writers' Union, the manuscript of the first books of young poets was discussed and published after the recommendation. We, young people, read an advertisement in the newspaper and went to discuss the poems of Muhammad Rahman. A lot of people said good things and different things. But I still remember how Brother Shukur spoke a little and read the poem "When I Listened to the Discussion" in a very touching way. That slang voice stayed in my ears. The lines of the poem became memorable:

He is a king in poetry, a servant in Herod,

And only a prisoner of love all his life,

Though it passes, waiting, behold, for five centuries,

Bibim, where are you, bibidzhan, come on!

It was a beautiful poem based on the symbolic meaning of Hazrat Navoi's ghazal "Yesterday kelgumdir debon ul sarvi gulro kelda" (Yesterday kelgumdir deon ul sarvi gulro gulro did not return) and expressing the anguish of one who has spent his life in fullness. The expression "bibidzhan", characteristic of the southern sides, gave the poem a special spirit, perhaps pleasant to the literary heart. After that, Muhammad Rahman's poetic book "Equilibrium" was published and went hand in hand, which had the status of a teacher for us. For the first time I found and read "Bibijon" from the collection. Thanksgiving, also known as Thanksgiving, fostered the spirit of poetry and the discernment of good lines.

"OG 'IR TOŠ KO'ČSA"

After graduating from the university and working in the publishing house "Young Guard", a collection of stories by Shukur Kholmirza "A Heavy Stone Passage" was published. The cover was designed to resemble geographical books, with the exception of The Heavy Stone Passage: the work implied the idea that this oppressed, humiliated people would be able to rise up and gain freedom. The book also includes an essay "On the Soil of Ancient Bactria", previously published in the magazine "Gulistan" and popular among young people.

One day I found myself in the presence of the editor-in-chief, Erkin Vohid, about the case. Then he received a call from Uzlit, or the Department for the Protection of State Secrets in the Press. The censor, who read the work, asked Shukur Kholmirza. Brother Erkin answered: "Shukur Kholmirzaev is a very talented, popular writer, loved by the people, especially loved by young people." Then, speaking about the essay, the censor said that clicking on the work was risky. In the face of their threat, everyone was at a disadvantage. Nevertheless, the book, even the cover, was printed in a circulation of several thousand copies. The essay was omitted from the book, the distorted pages were reprinted, the inscription "Price of 90 tons" on the cover was painted over with black paint and replaced with 80 tons from below.  As a representative of the publishing house, I have saved the first full pages of the work. After a while, I made the cover of this complete copy of the essay "In the Soil of Ancient Bactria" and gave it to my brother Shukur. I rarely saw Adeeb happy. And every one of them who came said this to the man.  In this small incident was concealed the tyrannical state of a totalitarian regime that was afraid of the word, the book, the people of the pen, and the self-consciousness of the people.

RETURN FROM THE AFGHAN WAR

A story related to the feeling of fatherhood of a Thanksgiving brother. The years of the Soviet-Afghan war. We were at the House of Creativity in Duron. This place became the permanent address of Shukur. One day, as I walked out onto the porch from the yard, I found my brother looking for me on Thanksgiving. His emotional and spiritual state changed, he tried to suppress his excitement and said: "Mirzajan! Jamshid has returned from Afghanistan!" My hands are trembling with excitement. We hugged and greeted each other. The war was raging, coffins with dead soldiers of Uzbekistan were constantly arriving, everyone was waiting for their liver with danger and despair. Thanksgiving, also known as Thanksgiving, had been courageously waiting for almost two years, absorbing its anguish, fear, and groans. Sometimes he would say, "When my son went to serve in Afghanistan, he would say, 'My son! Don't die! If you die, you will burn your father!" But it was a cry of Thanksgiving, and prayer, and fear, and hope!

Finally, the "Dzhiguli" was set on fire, we went together to the city - to his house behind the "Children's World": "Mirzajan! Tell me the way, keep pushing me. My mind is out of place!" At every step, at the traffic lights, I kept warning Brother Shukur. We've had enough. We took the elevator to the eighth floor and entered. As soon as he saw his son from the doorway, a cry burst out of his heart: "Jam!" Thankfully, Brother Thanksgiving couldn't hide his joy, excitement, and paternal feelings as he took his son's hand in his arms, pressed it to his chest and lips. It seemed to me that this remained the case until I became convinced that my son's return from the war was a reality, not a dream. I saw Şükür writing his story "Let's Go to the Mountains" in the same house, in a multi-page general notebook.

THE PATRIOTIC HEART OF ADIB

The soul, spirituality, morality, nature of each writer are undoubtedly reflected in his works. Shukur aka wrote: "If you pick up any of my books, you can see that my ink is looking out of it" ("My Nanny Daughter Planet!").

We talked about the unbridled patriotism of Brother Šükur. In his memoir-story "The Writer": Adil Yakubov expresses his sadness about the way he looks at the land where he was born and raised.

Here they enter Boysun by car: "Adil aka in front - sitting next to the driver... I'm sitting behind him. I am excited: I am excited not only because I see my country, admire its cherished landscapes and enjoy it immensely, but also because I have read the first story of "Peers", and I love the works of my writer, who fell in love, and who probably had a stronger impulse to love my country, and also because I wanted to love these scenes..."

Thanksgivingly, Brother Thanksgiving fell again: "Oh my God, how they would love my country too! Like their own..."

Such is the patriotic heart of a brother on Thanksgiving!

From this short statement, I draw conclusions:

This means that in order to love the homeland more, a person also needs a push.

This means that there will be a teacher of patriotism and love for the Motherland.

Therefore, it is necessary not only to know and try to do this, but also to love the homeland, but also to make others love it.

Love for the Motherland should be sincere, free from falsehood in words and deeds, in deeds.

Arriving at the courtyard where Shukur Kholmirza was born and raised, he meets his parents and brothers and says: "We have such a good mother, we have a father." This reminds him of another story: "I love that he says 'mom and dad' and says it in his own way. No, she is trembling, and deep down I remember that when Uchkun Nazarov entered this room, he called my mother "Ena", as I did, and tears welled up in my eyes: "But I call my friend's mother as hers: "Aya"...

That's the loving heart of a Thanksgiving brother. (Matthew 24:14) Thus, a friend's love for a friend is reflected in the way he treats his neighbors. These are incredibly thoughtful and subtle expressions. Uchkun Nazarov is on his land, in his house, calling his mother "Ena". "I am your son's brother, brother, we are like children to you." Fortunately, my brother cried because of this. Such is the loving, melancholy heart of Brother Thanksgiving.

"WELL, IF ONLY THERE WAS ONE SMALL HUT..."

On Thanksgiving, the brother tried to improve a piece of land in the woods until he said that it was empty, not locks, chests, jewelry, marble, but various flowers, herbs, purples, iphoras, and tulips. Boysun grew his tulips and tried to make a piece of Boysun from the ground. However, in a figurative and truthful sense, he himself said back in 1966: "It is better for a deer to grow in the mountains" (the plot of "Wild Flower").

Every time I passed by the garden, I remembered the poet's phrase about Leo Tolstoy: "Well, if he had a small hut in the orphanage of a great country with 100 million peasants..."

Later, on the edge of this beautiful garden, Shukur aka built a hut for himself: it consisted of a house, a small porch and a porch. There are house-museums of writers of the past. Brother Shukur's "house-museum" is his soul, his works.

In this beautiful garden, we had long and free conversations on a variety of topics. And others too.

INK DRAWN WITH WORDS

Once upon a time:

─ Is there painting in Islam? São Paulo asked.

"What do you mean, Brother Thanksgiving?" I said.

Imam Termizi (may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him) describes all the signs of the Prophet (may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him): faces, heads, hair, hairline, rings, foreheads, eyes, eyelashes, eyebrows, even colors, shoulders, steps. Isn't that a picture! he said.

Indeed, the grandsons of Hazrat Ibrahim ibn Muhammad, grandsons of Hazrat Ali (peace and blessings be upon him), in the hadith narrated by their grandfathers: "Two eyes are incredibly black and the eyelashes are incredibly long," and "between their two kifts there is the seal of nubuwwat, that is, the seal of prophecy," and that they are "the most generous of hearts" and that they are "the most truthful, tender, and noble in the family."  "Whoever sees Mr. Hasan at once, his fears will be suppressed, and whoever knows him well and who is obsessed with his conversations will fall in love with his friends and conversations," and in the hadith narrated by Hazrat Imam Hasan to raziyallahu ankh, "his holy countenance is as gentle as the fourteenth moon" and "his foreheads are wide and slender, his eyebrows are arched, thin and thick, separated from each other and not joined."

I was so amazed that Adib was looking at the images in the hadiths so carefully and attentively that I saw a sample painting in his possession that I could not answer. After a while:

─ This is a tattoo drawn with words, not a mustache and oil! I said.

Brother Shukur liked me so much that I said "in words", not hiding his smile and confession.

"THE HEAD THAT DID NOT BOW TO ANYONE, DID NOT BOW TO THE ONE WHO CREATED IT..."

One day, Thanksgiving, aka Thanksgiving, is unusually harsh and impressive:

"Can you 'explain' to me that the Qur'an describes them as 'paradise, shady places where rivers flow, it is natural for people living in warm lands to dream of them, but for people living in eternal snow and glaciers, what is wrong with these shades?'

"Thank you, brother! For peoples living in warm lands, those places that are shady cool places are a dream, but for peoples living in eternal snow, the same flowing rivers, shady cool places become the hot, warm places they have always dreamed of! I said.

Adeeb was deeply moved and spoke a beautiful word that conveyed a sincere confession. Unfortunately, this word flew out of my head. And then he added, "It's very well done, it's very logical, it's reliably worked."

When Shukur first began the prayer, Thanksgiving wrote a greeting poem that included lines that read, "No one bows his head, no one bows before God alone." Thanksgiving aka was delighted to see his discipline in this description.

ИСТОРИЯ ЭШОНИ СУДУРА

An unusual example of Adib's attitude to his works and to the consciousness of the fan-reader.

At that time, the dramas "The Party" and "Black Belt" by Shukur Kholmirza were staged at the Abror Guide Theater for Young Spectators and gained great success and fame. Moreover, the Black Belt was a work of nature, awakening people, sincerely encouraging people to fight for their freedom and independence. Both works were staged by Bakhodir Yuldoshev.

After the Black Belt had been staged many times, we talked about it one day in a wonderful Thanksgiving garden. The man was not in the mood to accept the report, but I expressed some of my thoughts, thinking that I would not have any more time to speak.

"Thank you, brother," I said, "Eshoni Sudur's selfie at the end of the Black Belt is far from reality.

Brother Thanksgiving was at first angry and seemed bitter toward the man who didn't understand at all:

"There is a saying in literature that this is art, artistic texture, okashi! he said. It seemed that he was going to "crush" me with the tone of the conversation.

"True," I said, "but shouldn't artistic texture be based on the logic of life? Didn't you say about "The Man Who Runs on the Sea": "Take the salt water of the sea and use it with a sponge is already open, and the caterpillar of the writer will blow away!"

It softened, I returned to a position that lifted my masculinity.

─ Speak! I asked, giving me the right. I took the opportunity to repeat as often as I could:

"First of all, the prototype – Eshoni Sudur – is a historical figure, everyone knows that he did not kill himself. He was shot dead by invading enemies, and his grave stands in Boyson. Information about this is also in the archives. Secondly, there is no suicide in Islam, and it is inconceivable that a spiritual leader like Eshoni Sudur would not know this in his work. Thirdly, it is not fitting for a believer to say, "My end is burned." The afterlife is not the stuff of this world, if one can easily accept its burning! Fourthly, Eshani Sudur is a descendant of Eshon, that is, the Prophet. The Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) said: "My descendants will not depart from the world until they return to good." This means that they die through faith and repentance. The suicide of a person who is a prophet is contrary to this hadith. Fifth, if he is willing to die for himself, won't he die fighting the invading enemy until he has one last chance? Why do you just "kill" the most beautiful hero?! After all, what did the storm commander say? "The sooner I believed that my homeland no longer existed, the sooner I myself fell (in the face of the occupiers). At what time should the martyr leave?" I said.

Assault commander - From the story "Smile", a symbol of a brave, brave hero who fought with the invaders for the freedom of the Motherland. My mention of him "annoyed" Brother Shukur, although it softened him a little:

"Oh, naughty! he said. Then there was silence. From the inside, it was clear that he was thinking about what he was saying. But he did not answer. For some reason, our conversation ended and I went out into my garden.

The next Thanksgiving morning, my brother called me. When I go out, I stand thoughtfully in front of the bottle.

"Sir!" You filled me with thoughts! And Bakhodir [Yuldoshev] said: "Can we find another solution, brother Shukur?" One girl said: "Haven't we made Esan passive?" It also has oil. Now it's time for the work to leave the stage.

Another girl called me to chat and:

"I need to think about it!" he said. But she stayed on stage, I didn't know if she was going to work on the record or not. It was clear that brother Shukur had been thinking about solving the masterpiece for a long time. Later, I told Eshkabil Shukur about what had happened between us. I walked around in confusion, wondering if I had harmed this man. But Thanksgiving, aka literature, never revealed his sadness, for he was a man of sorrow.

MEMORY OF THE SYR DARYA

Shukur, he was also a man of a kind of imagination. When someone praises a job or quality or blames them for something, they feel ashamed. Osman Azim joked a lot.

Once Umrzak Uljaboev and Akram Kattabekov organized a conference dedicated to the work of Shukur Kholmirzaev at the Syrdarya Pedagogical Institute. Usman Azim, Erkin A'zam, Nadir Normat, Kamina – each of us talked about the characters and qualities of the Adib. On Thanksgiving, my brother was embarrassed at first. And then he began to listen. After the conference:

─ At first, I was confused and embarrassed by your words. Then I saw a picture of a man named Shukur Kholmirzaev, which was drawn and inadvertently overheard, as if you were talking about another person! he said.

LITERATURE IS DYING?..

In the first years of Uzbekistan's independence, the issues of "economic calculation" and "market economy" arose, as if there was a danger of a pause for literature. Some able-bodied writers even began to publish their books "at their own expense". Then a debate broke out in the press on the topic: "Is literature dying?" Because there was a lot of talk about self-government, the dominance of money. Shukur Holmirza was a leading activist on this topic. One day, his interview-article was again published in the newspaper "Literature and Art of Uzbekistan". I went to Durmon. The piece was found working in the garden. As I passed the garden, a voice was heard on the way: "Thank God! Money doesn't kill literature!" I shouted, and he knew at once that I had come up with the idea after reading the article. He was standing in the garden, raising his hands and clapping his hands silently, and he was applauded, and his boyfriend was just a gesture. When a brother lit something up on Thanksgiving or acknowledged it, he clapped his hands and applauded silently. After that, not a single book was published for more than ten years. Adeeb swallowed his pain and persisted. Only since 2003, a three-volume collection of stories has been published.

COMPASSIONATE AND RUTHLESS READER

Along with his tireless work, the writer conducts literary lessons, gives lectures at the Higher Course of Literature at the Faculty of Philology of the National University of Uzbekistan, considers himself worthy and satisfied with this.

The cases I observed in Holmirza's Thanksgiving Chronicle were: he was both a compassionate and ruthless reader; Compromise in favor of good work, compromise in favor of bad work. He had the determination and strength to convey his thoughts, trying to evoke sympathy in the hearts of those around him, trying to arouse sympathy for talented people. Reading the best passages from prose and poetry, his speech was impressive.

When talking, he behaves at the level of the interlocutor, he does not come from a height, when the interlocutor is high in his understanding of life and literature, he is high, and if the interlocutor is average, then he is also average. But when he spoke to the ignorant and stupid, he was visibly upset.

"OUR SOUTHERNERS ARE IN THE THROES OF SPRING..."

We would be surprised if Thanksgiving, aka Thanksgiving, used some proverbs in such a place, in a moment of reality. If water flows down the throat, they say: "If you want bread, go to the water; When the water is clogged, they say, "Go to the grave." One young man said to one of his disciples: "When the camel is old, it will follow its grandfather." When a person did not find what he had hidden, he would say, "A blind man will not be able to return what he has hidden."

The following poetic lines were repeated by the bot-bot:

"Apricot blossomed in the gardens of Surkhan, Our southerners rushed into spring..." "Don't leave your forehead, yor, come out of my soul when I sing, don't worry, you..." When the poetic passages from Brother Shukur's speech were heard, the power of influence increased. For example: "But I always wanted a better time, You have a river, yes, on the sides of Andijan",

"In the gardens of Surkhan, apricots bloomed,

We have at the dawn of spring..."

"Do not leave an inscription on your forehead, you,

Let my soul come out, if I sing, don't turn around, impudent..."

When the poetic passages from Brother Shukur's speech were heard, the power of influence increased. For example:

"But I wanted to have a good time,

Do you have rivers, yes, on the sides of Andijan?"

"Do not leave an inscription on your forehead, you,

Let my soul come out, if I sing, don't turn around, impudent..."

When the poetic passages from Brother Shukur's speech were heard, the power of influence increased. For example:

"But I wanted to have a good time,

Do you have rivers, yes, on the sides of Andijan?"

Derkan placed a strong emphasis on the phrase "one good time."

Each memory wants to express the relation of the remembered to its creation. One day, as I was walking into the woods and passing by my poor garden, a Thanksgiving Brother called out to me from the garden.

"Yes, don't die, I'll give it to you!" he said. On a low table between two woodcuts in the garden stands the magazine "Youth". I saw my poems on an open page and brought them to what I did not see. At the meeting:

"Sit down," he said, "and I'll read a poem." The reading continued:

Divine mountains in motion,

Dead valleys of the salt feast.

A thousand wisdom in art, like a lady,

In the torment of brilliance, eternal grace...

About the poem "Yukinów" Şukür aka pensive expressed his admiration. It was nice to hear the poem from his language.

ABDULLA ORIPOV as ABDULLAJON

Shukur, aka Abdulla Oripov, said "Abdullajan" both in front of him and behind him, and his recognition and respect were great. He spoke highly of the Free Wahid. Rauf considered Parfini to be an artist of words. Ibrahim liked Hakkul's conversation and could talk for hours. Osman spoke fondly of Azim. Sirojiddin loved Sayyid.

This would give surprising, clear definitions to the next generation of writers. Some said their topic was good and their skills were weak, some wrote well but their headlines didn't fall into place, some said their sentences were stuck "like bricks" and not a single paragraph on one page. He criticized writers who did not know the history of their homeland, were not interested in it, and overlooked important historical topics. He did not like ridicule in verbal art. Tolstoy even said: "Repentance is better if a work of art ridicules life" ("Solitude").

*   *   *

In 1991, he was awarded the title of People's Writer of Uzbekistan, in 2000 he was awarded the Order of Mehnat Shukhrati. The writer is no longer interested in these things. I don't want lies to be written about Adib. Truths themselves are sufficient to define it.

"YOUR SISTER PLANET..."

When Shukur spoke of his sons, he said, "Your brother is Jamshid," "Your brother is Jahongir," and when he spoke of his daughter, he said, "Your sister is the Planet." The words of love and pride for the planet in the literature of his literature seemed to inspire hope for the end of his works. Indeed, he said, "You have gathered together my scattered writings, which have not seen the light of day for twenty years, and created a treasure that did not exist." At this point, Brother Shukur expressed his gratitude to the "nanny's daughter", his dissatisfaction with her and the blessing of his will. "Be kind to your mother and thank her for giving birth to a baby girl like you," he said. My sister Planeta is happy with literature. Shukur Kholmirza did not inherit material wealth, but he inherited the rest of his spiritual heritage. Such a monument stands from it that few scientists have such a gift.

Life is life, and few people could understand it with all their hearts, except for his daughter Planeta, who sympathized with him. In fact, he was lonely in life, and lonely in literature. I think that the story of "loneliness" is, at the same time, a statement of one's own state of adib.

RELATIVE DEFINITIONS

On Shukur Kholmirze: "In Uzbek literature, after Abdulla Kakhhor, the genre of the story has risen one step higher." This recognition and glorification seem humiliating to me. I think that this idea was born out of a thoughtful ignorance of both literary works. Shukur Kholmirza is a writer from the Benazir tribe who has his own independent school in the story chapter. This school should also be a tatisa for new eras.

The greatness of Shukur Kholmirza's work is determined by his themes, philosophy, modernity, ideas and original art. He did not "bind" himself to the ideology of the time. He broke the chains as best he could. Already in Shukur's will, he aka said: "My works, in particular, my stories, are a new stage in Uzbek literature; The explanation for this should also be asked from intellectuals." He did not follow the path of blaming and "beating" his people for their disability, he went down the path of reminding them of their enormous potential, self-awareness, self-knowledge, awakening them, preparing them for struggle and freedom.

The definition of "half a century of the life of the Uzbek people was reflected in the work of Shukur Kholmirza" is also relative. His single story sometimes reflects the "history" of the century. Read the story "The Government", watch the tragedy of the century. Look at the collapse of the system and society. "Uzavtosanoat" will be transformed In the story "Smile" it turns out that the Order of the Knight, which adorns the chest of a believer, is only for his betrayal and betrayal of his people, his Motherland.

ETERNALLY MERCILESS LAW

The story of the Lame Crane sets forth the eternal law of cruelty in bird life. According to one verse of the Qur'an, "there are creatures that move on the earth, and birds that flap their wings in the sky and live in society like people." But they have a different type of personality. Describing the disdain of a crane mother for her lame child, the writer writes: "Only this species of bird will have its own compassion. Yes, but the law far transcends this feeling. This is the law of life, the law of the natural and innate need to leave offspring and find healthy development and repeat this work of your work in the future. That is why they easily abandon their children, who will pamper their offspring and it will be difficult for them to live in the future."

At this moment, a huge difference between a human and an animal is revealed: a person takes care of his disabled and sick child for the rest of his life, making sure that the life of society brings some benefit, mental and spiritual benefit. The law of animals and birds is the opposite of this, it is a kind of cruel law.

THE SECRETS OF "LONELINESS"

"Secrecy" proves by its examples that famous writers, recognized as classics in world literature, are corrupt, innocent, invaders. Leo Tolstoy wrote to Dostoevsky: "Between good and evil, dying, making no distinction between them" Dostoevsky, whose advice to Alexander was I.ga shameful and immoral: "At all costs, it is necessary to conquer Central Asia and Turkey", who spoke of Dostoevsky, who "could not resist during the battle with the Turks, and rode his horse", "Long live the Russian Tsar! Another hill of the Turks is ours!" – said of the young Pushkin, who "lovingly described the Russian troops", exclaimed: "The Caucasus will be ours", Gogol, who had already turned evil and invasion into the idea of his work, did not express himself on this matter. Tolstoy says about Dostoevsky: "... he is an invader, a supporter of bloodshed, who advised the tsar to conquer Central Asia and Turkey as soon as possible" ("Solitude").

Tolstoy says: "Why shouldn't everyone, with God's sanction, live freely, as friends to one another? No, that's how it should be, Love! At the heart of all our actions should be this love. And the greatest task of art is to unite people, to make them brothers."

Again, Tolstoy says of Alexander II: "It's normal to be ashamed. It's normal to be ashamed of your own king's actions, to hate them." Tolstoy continues: "Do you know where the delusion of the clergy is seen in the Church, where it has become an absolute slave of the state, of the tsar, serving the counter-insurgency policy of our tsars?..?"

Further, Tolstoy says: "A servant of God should never sympathize with bloodshed, murder, invasion of foreign lands, the shackles of free people." In the story of the Uzbek writer, Tolstoy speaks with a sincere human conscience and faith. That is the heartfelt heart of Holmirz's Thanksgiving. These are lessons for us so that we can assess the independence of Uzbekistan, so that we know what the freedom of the Motherland is.

DESPAIR OF A FRIEND TOWARDS A FRIEND

Shukur Kholmirzoev had a special spirituality. This spirituality was conditioned not by declamation, prayer and ritual, but, in my opinion, by the writer's loneliness, or rather, his Westernness. Our literary environment is not used to the word "West", and when we say "Western", we often understand a person who has lost his homeland, family. No, whereas a person can be strange with his spiritual state even among his relatives and friends. "Westernness" in this place has two meanings: 1) individuality in one's own talent; 2) to live separately from them by the nature of creativity, even if they have a family and children. As I have said elsewhere, Shukur was a man who separated himself from everything else for the sake of continuous creativity.

One of the girls was supposed to be the funeral of the famous writer in Termez, the late Mengzia Safarov. This means that their loved ones want to make a donation to the spirit of the person by making a donation to the spirit of the person. I went to Brother Shukur's garden in Durman, where he said that he was looking at Termez. Then he said thoughtfully, "Can you believe me, I was standing here, and here, on this side, your brother Mengziah appeared. I looked at him for a long time. He didn't say anything. Not a dream, really... I can't help but go to Termez, brother.." Thank you, Brother Mengzuo's spirit is full of hope. A friend would be full of hope..." "That's what I said. We Sufis appreciate this state of affairs. Westernism gives a person a sense of belonging. I think that Brother Shukur's spirituality was due to his Westernization. Indeed, if the great writer was the only one among his contemporaries with his talent and compassionate work, he was also alone among his fellows with the sorrow of his creation. May God's mercy be upon both of them.

"I'VE ALWAYS BEEN INTERESTED IN JUST WRITING..."

Thanksgiving itself says, "... I have always been just interested in writing, enjoying the writing process. When the work was published, I kept it in my head for a day and a half, and then it was over my shoulder..." ("My grandmother is my daughter Planet").

In his last days, the writer looked at his works through the eyes of an alien reader. In his last letter, that is, in his will, he wrote: "My child, these volumes are novelty, wealth, and yet these works find their value in world literature." "I don't have a fortune, my fortune is my five or ten books," he said. So, "Nana is my daughter Planet," she said, "I have a great inheritance from me," and through her daughter, she warned her people, the people she trusted, the people she loved... That's the heart of Holmirz's Thanksgiving.

His soul, faith, art, life, ideas, pain, medicine are in his works. With his devotion to literature, Shukur Kholmirza showed an example of selflessness to the Motherland, lived with the pain and sorrow of the country and ended his life for this people, for this Motherland.

BLESSED BEARD.

The day before he died, I bought the two-volume book from the Shark Publishing and Printing Association bookstore. I leafed through a lot, read a lot. I missed my brother's Thanksgiving, I wanted to see, I asked one or two people for his phone. "In the home of the planet," they said. I intended to go as soon as possible and see. The next morning the news of his death came.

As we were about to wash the body of a Thanksgiving brother, I came across his beard that matched his face: if I had been there before, I would have blessed his beard and lifted his heart by telling him what he was doing. What a pity. My heart gave me good advice: "Hurry up, get a message!", my soul deceived me. This is exactly what happened during the life and death of three people: Ne'mat Amin, Shukur Kholmirza, Said Ahmad.

TOWER OVER CASTLES

I look at him every time I pass by his beautiful garden in the forest: in winter it is covered with snow, in spring the rains wash away, the tulips of the Boysun are in bloom, the grasses bloom all summer, the trees have run out of fruit, the door with a lattice opens and closes, the stone corridors stand still, but the owner of the garden is not visible. A small hujra looks at the world through the eyes of pity and reproach. He knows that he is superior to castles. Thank God, she no longer crosses the threshold. Thanksgiving brother no longer leads the road to his home, his garden, the yard of his friends who have suddenly squeezed him, Thanksgiving brother now turns the road to bookish hearts.

LINES FROM THE BOOK "WORDS OF MY HEART TO YOUTH"

"Without a letter, it was difficult to find Shukur Kholmirzaev. He was a man who sacrificed himself for the sake of literature. It turns out that demanding the art of words is hard work."

"Indeed, the life of Shukur Kholmirzaev passed under some sad, unpleasant circumstances, we cannot hide it. But he was undoubtedly a great writer. In Uzbek literature, his naziri has no equal. In the narrative department, he wrote immortal works in accordance with the highest standards of world literature. In any case, he possessed an unshakable creative discipline. All his consciousness, his purpose, his activity, his nights, his days were directed only and exclusively to creativity. I have rarely seen a writer who works so hard. Shukur Kholmirzoev, because of his compassion for his people, was a hardworking writer who felt no pity for himself. His pain is the longing of the people, the idea is the freedom of the motherland, the desire is the greatness of the nation, his profession is the sacrifice of his life for the sake of literature, the joy is the completion of his plan, the shelter is cramped, low, the slums, the garbage, the food is his share of the money, the simple food that the poorest of the poor eat. First of all, there was no falsification of his great ideas and goals. My heart will not be pleased to remember in quiet words the great poet who gave himself for his people in such hard work! When writing memoirs, it is necessary to show his greatness, to find his exemplary qualities, to recognize the discipline of iron, to remember his greatness in the life of the West. If you can't find them, leave the memory unrecorded.

Let everyone learn from Tankur Kholmirzayev love for the Motherland, selflessness before the people! At the same time, I would like to remind you with pleasure that the dedicated scientist and junalist Olimjon Tashbayev wrote an unparalleled fiction and documentary work about Shukur Kholmirzaev. This work is the best example of dedication, compassion and truthfulness. Anyone who is an indigenous child should know an indigenous child.

2010–2020.

Mirzo KENJABEK,

Youth Mentor of Honored Youth of the Republic of Uzbekistan,

Laureate of the Babur International Prize

20.01.2021.