praised it, whether they liked it or
not. Mastan's wife bought a pair of shoes. Everybody in the building
said: "Mubarak"!2

Mastan's child fell down in the yard, everybody in the building
sighed. Such was the building where Mastan lived. It always seemed
to Mastan that he was not living in a house, but in the street
or in the middle of the courtyard. He was afraid to act freely
at home. Whatever he wanted to say, he would think about it 30
times before saying it. It was as if Mastan's apartment had ears.
If he sneezed twice, there would be a big confusion among his
neighbors, and they would call him all day long to ask how he
was. That's why Mastan, his wife and child always behaved very
cautiously. They were talking to one another, using thepolite
forms of "yes," "no," 3 "Here you are," 4 and "You're welcome." 5

Mastan wore a tie at home. Several times a day, he would check
to see that it was straight and that he was neatly groomed. And
at night when everyone in the building was sleeping, Mastan couldn't
even be comfortable in bed. His wife would turn this way and
that way in the bed and look at herself, checking hair in the
mirror, opposite the bed. Neither of them dared to sleep without
the blanket, even on the hottest summer nights.

It was as if there was a big camera in Mastan's house, which
was recording everything that they were saying and doing from
morning until night, and it was transmitting everything directly
from Mastan's apartment into the courtyard for everyone to see.

Of course, it wasn't