My Neighbour Osama Bin Laden

By Yslar Tatuky

Agents of the world’s most influential special services, American CIA and British MI16, suddenly show up in a foreign country town. After several months of their intensive activities, the main subject of their concern turns up as well – a very wealthy and suspicious foreigner. The peaceful and measured life of the town sees radical changes...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jun 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398471054

Yslar Tatuky

Yslar Tatuky was born in 1960 in the small mining town of Tkibuli, Georgia. He grew up in a poor, working-class family with three other siblings. Yslar was only two years old when his father died in a car accident. He graduated from Moscow State Art and Cultural University in 1992 with a degree in librarian studies. He had been in business for many years. In 2022, Austin Macauley Publishers in London published Yslar Tatuky’s book, My Neighbour Osama Bin Laden. Currently, he lives in Tbilisi, Georgia, and devotes himself entirely to writing.

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About the Author

Yslar Tatuky was born in 1960 in a small mining town Tqibuli, Republic of Georgia. In 1992 he graduated from Moscow State Art and Cultural University. His time at university coincided with the so called Perestroika and the dissolution of the Soviet Union. These genuinely epochal changes heavily influenced Yslar Tatuky’s future life. To overcome economic difficulties and make a living he had to go into business. He inevitably had experienced and endured all the ‘delights’ of capitalism. In 2007, a group of criminals took over his business, which caused him to spend seven years in courts and police stations; fortunately, Tatuky managed to win the many year battle. Following these events, he returned to Tbilisi, Georgia and started to fulfil his biggest dream. He wrote a screenplay – When God Is Sad (2016), a novel – My Neighbour Osama Bin Laden (2018), and recently, in June 2021, The Man Who Never Contemplated Suicide.

Copyright Information ©

Yslar Tatuky 2022

The right of Yslar Tatuky to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398471047 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398471054 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Introduction

A simple handshake on the morning of 2 May 2012, at Valodya Shimanovsky’s gate, in one of the streets of Okriba town, began it all. It was the exact anniversary of the death of Osama bin Laden, the most formidable terrorist in the world. Only three weeks later, on 22 May 2012, the first private spacecraft Dragon was successfully launched from Cape Canaveral towards the International Space Station, thus laying the foundation for the new space age.

Okribans, however, including myself, passed over this ground-breaking event, largely leaving it unnoticed. I cannot say why they did not care. As for myself, well, it was all due to that seemingly ‘simple’ handshake at Valodya Shimanovsky’s gate, it changed my life so drastically that, frankly speaking, I had little time to think about Elon Musk’s monumental project or about anything else at all. From that day on, my life turned upside-down or more precisely, it entered an entirely different dimension. Had I shaken hands with the real alien that morning at Valodya Shimanovsky’s gate or had that particular alien taken me to another planet in their spacecraft, it would have not altered my life that much.

But let us follow the sequence of events as they were.

I have all my life been dreaming of writing a book. Despite my rather immodest personality and somewhat grotesque ambitions, I never actually managed to go beyond a few pages. At times, I would begin writing and composing a novella or what I thought would ultimately become an ‘expansive, epic saga’ and after having diligently tortured myself through several pages, I would look at the text with my heart beating fast, hoping that maybe this time, I had succeeded in creating something valuable but it was no good! A single skim-through and I knew I had to stop writing immediately.

In my early youth, there was an exception when I first tried to compose a prose work. That first time, I almost succeeded.

After graduating from school, my friends and I went on a trip to Svaneti, a mountainous region with mesmerising nature, enchanting glaciers, mystical environment, and dangers looming on the road. The place is generally deemed to be saturated with legends and mysterious stories. Only several decades earlier, vendetta had been an indivisible, inherent part of life in Svaneti. Moreover, just as we were leaving on our journey, several cases of blood-revenge were reported. Thus, despite the fact that mountainous tourism had not yet developed in the country, Svaneti and the sense of adventure was a real magnet for youth like us.

It was quite late when we arrived in Svaneti, and although darkness prevented us from doing any sightseeing that day, we were still filled with impressions; impossibly dangerous roads, an ancient, ramshackle bus, and fantastic views. All of us had been travelling to Svaneti for the first time, all of us had formed our own ideas of the region and its people, and yet what we saw on the road further intensified our expectations.

It was mid-September, and the night was quite cold. I woke up unusually early in the morning as it was still dark outside. A feeling that somebody was calling my name and inviting me to some place haunted me and dressed as warm as I could, I went outside. A little mound or hill near the hotel caught my eye. An invisible urge drove me to its slope. Still half-asleep, I ascended the hill with some sort of a hunch inside myself, as I had never woken up at such an early hour. I do not know why but I did not think to warn my friends as if leaving for a secret date with my beloved. As I looked around, my heart began to flutter and I hushed, waiting for something big, something extraordinary to come.

A faint golden light appeared in the east, and my heart told me, Now it begins. It was as if someone just lit a magic lamp behind the mountains. The light intensified gradually and slowly and suddenly, the sun flung itself up from behind the hills like a concealed man trying to ambush someone. If it was so, then it succeeded well, leaving everything and everyone in sheer amazement, for a second it lasted, that flash of brilliant light, and exciting to all creatures, including myself. I narrowed my eyes, with my heart pounding and unwittingly, flung my arms wide open, trying to embrace the sun, so magical was the environment! I could not feel the warmth of the sun, only the bewitching light, and, at the same time, a strange feeling of expectation lingered with me. My mind journeyed to inhabit strange lands, where everyone and everything is alive and where all the living and non-living speak one language, soundless, only through feelings and emotions and convey their thoughts in the best possible manner. Ideal harmony had been established. I do not know how long the miracle lasted and lowering my arms, I turned slightly, only to give way to even greater amazement. I had never seen anything like that before. Sunbeams as if intentionally, were lighting only one chosen mountain top, showering their entire warmth, light, and energy on that one peak as if caressing and stroking her. The mountain was a blaze of ruby red, glaring with divine light. My heart stopped, and I stopped breathing…I, Okriban Yslar Tatuky who met the wonderful dawn twice every morning (I will tell you about it later), had never seen the light so enchanting, and of such unearthly colours…such caress, such kiss…I could no longer bear the miraculous sight, and sitting down, I flung my arms open again and sprawled on the bright green meadow. Immense pleasure and happiness came over me and I could no longer feel cold! I was watching the miracle of love, and it filled me with joy.

The mystical caress and the mystical love affair soon came to an end, and the sun found time for others, pouring down the magnificent light on the drowsy peaks and beautiful meadows. The modest, happy, and gleaming white glacier stood isolated like a coy maiden.

This is it, I thought to myself, this is Tetnuldi.

I recognised it; I understood it was even impossible not to know. Tetnuldi entirely enchanted me. I had never seen such fantastical whiteness, such unravished beauty. Neither did the sun’s amorous courting of Tetnuldi surprise me. It was then that the essence of this wonderful love in nature dawned on me and it was then that I first understood both, the sun and the mountain…It was the most wondrous act of love on earth and it was the greatest act of love in the universe. The sun that shines on and warms everything, the sun that is admired and loved by everyone, the living and the non-living, that sun has one, only one beloved, unparalleled, irreplaceable Tetnuldi! His soul, his heart, his love, his feelings belong only to her, to Tetnuldi. Tetnuldi knows that and she is happy. Tetnuldi also knows that when the sun goes down and disappears when it travels to other lands, warming mountains and peaks all over the world, even then the sun belongs only to her, only thinks about Tetnuldi, impatiently waiting for their next date to embrace her once again, kiss her gorgeous neck, warm and caress her body, and then follow the path of his boundless empire…I was happy that I had the chance to see it with my own eyes, perceive and feel the wonderful history of the greatest, of the most beautiful, and of the most powerful love in the universe.

I too fell in love with Tetnuldi, I too was charmed and captivated by her…petrified, unmoved and enchanted I stood, staring at the delectable sight for several hours more. When I came back, my friends had already been nervous a little more and they would have raised alarm.

For quite some time, I was under the impression of that magic fairy-tale dawn and even after returning home, I walked dazzled like a youth in love. It was then that I decided to write my first short story, a novella or maybe a novel, whatever it would end up to. I chose a Svani hunter boy as my main character (My own alter-ego, as you might have understood). The boy, of course, was in love with Tetnuldi, only unlike me, he could not tolerate her affair with the sun, he could not enjoy the beauty of their love and neither could he bear the sunbeams that kissed and caressed her body. He hated dawn and he hated each creature that longed for and worshipped the light of the sun. Blinded with jealousy, he thought only of revenge and he thought how to get rid of the adversary, how to make its light and its beams disappear (Now, you like this plot, right?)…The theme is indeed grand but imagine what talent and genius of a writer it requires to unfold such a plot and handle the story; Homer or Virgil, maybe nobody else. Now imagine, an 18-year-old lad sitting down to write a story of such great love! Now, at least, you know what an ambitious man the author of this book is! Of course, I failed, and after much trouble and brain cracking, I finally made a decision to stop writing.

Now imagine, after having attempted to write such a grand story, what else would I have written? What else would I have thought of that would be at least slightly comparable with my previous idea? My vaulting vanity and my swollen ego did not give me rest, killing each new idea in its roots. Of course, I still made several attempts. The first more or less valuable text was about ‘Narrow Spirited Gogia’, a story about a man who remembers his past life, only to understand that he has never done anything of true value or importance and has never created something valuable. His narrow-spiritedness overcame him during the most crucial, vital and life-changing moments, and he always chose for momentary success or benefit. In short, it was a tragic portrait of an ordinary man.

The second one was a little more interesting story about three friends from a province. Two of them are side referees in the lowest soccer league of a provincial country, while the other is a taxi driver. One of the friends has a sick child who requires urgent treatment abroad. The action takes place after the Civil War, during the time of severe material hardship. Friends are trying to collect the necessary money. The story was tragi-comic and not entirely uninteresting but here I could not go further, could not progress. Grand and at the same time, the unsuccessful story of love of Tetnuldi and the sun mercilessly killed my motivation, and without motivation, nothing comes out of the writing business, you know. I could not handle even minor themes, just like that athlete who, having requested and lifted too large a weight, was left unable to deal with small weights and had to abandon his sports career.

This was largely the objective picture of my writing career until that day when that event of global significance, which is the very theme of this book, took place in my hometown and not that I was a simple witness of this unusual occurrence, but one of the major players, as stories like these never have any minor characters. Now, imagine, not-so-young a man of dubious writing talent and swollen ambition, quite unexpectedly, and due to the strange coincidence of unrelated events, receives such a gift. What shall I think? What shall I do? This is such immeasurable luck. This is such a great opportunity, unbelievably good fortune, and I knew I could not let it pass. The time has come for my dream to come true. This is the only chance and I should take it.

Frankly speaking, however, I am not entirely ungifted, and I am in possession of certain useful skills. For example, I have a natural talent for the recognition and identification of various psychological types. In my youth, this inherent skill helped me to entertain myself a good deal and show off among unfamiliar people or strangers. It is a common custom in my country that guests are shown family albums until the table is fully laid and ready. Photos were taken at school, work or elsewhere that showed groups of people were my favourite. I tried to make up the psychological portraits of completely unfamiliar people. Surprising as it may seem to you, my observations proved to be almost 80% precise. Moreover, I was never radically mistaken. I mean, I have never mistaken a kind man for an evil one or a mischievous person for an honest man. And I excelled in the above to such a degree that, sometimes, the hosts and others present would suspect my potential acquaintance with the people in the photos or my awareness of some information from sources unknown to them. I used this talent sometimes during fortune-telling and employed it to ‘pick up’ girls. I was not a simple fortune-teller but a real palm-reader, a chiromancer. Then, I never began fortune-telling from the girl who I really liked. First, I might have started even from boys. After several successful ‘fortune telling’ attempts, when everybody around would start admiring me, I would unleash all my skill and talent and tricks on that one particular girl. I have to say that I was doing all of it with such art that I never failed in my ‘chiromancy’ practice. Of course, I also used simple psychological tricks. It does not take great skills of deduction to recognise a woman in love. She does not pay any attention to men and is constantly engaged in her own thoughts. From my point of view, women although not so physically beautiful are far more attractive when they are in love. This effect, in terms of impact on men, I compare with the effect of lesbian women. Both are inaccessible for men around them. The fact of such inaccessibility drives men mad and adds to their passion and increases their motivation. In my not-so-unsupported opinion, there is no straight man who will not want to seduce a lesbian woman or a woman head over heels in love with another man!

After a failed romance with several lesbians and women in love, I established a rather refined and pragmatic theory, ‘when you have a minimum chance of success, do not lose time in vain’. The theory is true of those situations when I aimed only at short-term relationships. To make my pragmatism clearer, let me introduce you to the practice I developed. For example, if I went to enjoy the seaside, my theory would match the situation: ‘I should never spend time on tanned and good looking girls’. The logic was the following: ‘If a girl is beautiful, and she has already managed to tan, she is ready for a relationship, and which means, she would have already attracted the attention of a hunter better than myself’. Therefore, my friends (As tutored by me) and I would always choose ‘beauties never seen by the sun’ or entirely untanned girls. Believe me, the theory worked smoothly in practice. And soon, I had a set of previously designed primitive topics for starting up a chat. The first question was the name of the city where the tourist came from. Whichever city they named, even the most forgotten and lost in the farthest corners of the country, I always told them that a friend of mine lived in their city, in Lenin Street. The thing is that every settlement, even the smallest ones, in every republic of the Soviet Union, necessarily had a Lenin Street. Such an ‘invented’ friend would raise the trust of naïve and inexperienced girls and add to the prospects of success. Believe me, despite such a banal attitude, the theory worked almost without a flaw.

I am telling you all of this to give you a clearer idea of my psychological or intellectual portrait.

After having read the description of my ‘writing career’, you would have understood that I am neither a John Coetzee nor a Vladimir Nabokov to surprise you with my eloquence or refined and sophisticated manner of writing. Neither can I charm you with the exceptional intellect like Thomas Mann or take you on a journey through the dark forests of human psychology like Dostoevsky or embroider a grand story with a stream of consciousness-like James Joyce. The theme that I was lucky to get hold of is so global, so comprehensive and unbelievable and fantastical that it will be great guilt to write one simple, uninspired, and ordinary novel. After much thought and contemplation, I decided to create a new genre with a new form and a new attitude (Do not be sceptical from the very beginning as I am suggesting a rather original idea). The first step of the novel’s unique architecture, in my opinion, will be an unusual beginning or an unusual introduction or more precisely, a series of unusual introductions. Yes, yes, introductions! Ladies and gentlemen, this novel is going to have several introductions, and I am just finishing the first one!

Second Introduction

I have three great loves in art: literature, film, and music. Of course, I admire painting, architecture and design as well but the former three are united in my personal holy trinity! I love them all three with equal, indistinguishable fervour. Thus, I thought, these three loves of mine could merge into my future work.

Now I will try to explain how I am going to bring this idea to life. I have already mentioned above that I do not stand out with exceptional writing talent and the description of the characters’ appearance requires a good deal of it. Besides, the depiction of appearance has great significance for the reader to develop an attitude towards a character. Moreover, in my case, when all characters are practically real-life and non-invented, and when the story is true-to-life and the facts, documentary! That was why I made up my mind to employ the appearance of characters from famous movies, in order to depict the novel’s characters with maximum possible precision.

Apart from that, I am going to use particular scenes from movies while depicting particular settings or environments or to convey my emotions precisely in a particular scene.

As for music, I have musical associations for all episodes of my life. I cannot name my favourite musical genre because I chose different musical movements in various environments. In this case, as well, I will try to recommend a piece of music that matches this or that episode. This will enable us, you and me, the reader and the author, to think and feel synchronically. My psychological type, I believe, is deeply emphatic. Emotional mood; the greatest perception of joy, happiness, and even depressive condition has great importance for me, and music is simply unparalleled in achieving this goal.

It is due to this extraordinary attitude that I allow myself to refer to this novel as a novel of a new genre. I understand that reading with those rules that I offer may result in certain difficulties for you but I am also sure that if my hopes are met, you will receive great emotional pleasure (However, those who disapprove of contemporary technologies and gadgets can only trust my fantasy and