My friends would come to see me and bring several sticks of salami, a few cartons of cigarettes, coffee, candies… Well, I had to sell my other car to pay for the repair of the foreign one. I stayed 3 months at the hospital, it took me a long time to recover. But I think I didn’t have enough of it and understood nothing… As soon as I did when I went out of the hospital, I borrowed a car from a friend and drove to the girls to have a great time. But you can’t outwit your fate… As soon as I went out, there was another collision. Much worse this time. I smashed two cars that didn’t belong to me. A hospital again. Broken legs, hip, kidney rupture. The pain was so terrible that I could hardly bear it and asked for death. I saw my whole life highlighted. But too late. Almost all my friends were suddenly gone. And I lost my wife, the only woman I had. No one meant more for me in my life. A leg was amputated. I had to sell the apartment for the repair and medical treatment. That wasn’t enough though. I live in the summer house all alone. That’s marketplace boss still supports me. He gives me some money from the common fund and brings it here. I just stand here at the gate and watch. I tried to drink again, but then one day you get sober again… It’s an awful dump… That’s it.’
‘Danila’, I asked him, ‘and what about your wife? Did she get married?’
‘No. I hear that she lives together with our son.’
‘Go and see her, Danila. Maybe she is waiting for you?’
‘Does she need such a cripple? You know’, his voice trembled, ‘ I don’t even have money to buy flowers.’
I offered him money, but he refused bluntly.
‘Would you forgive me?’, he asked.
‘Of course I would, Danila! Come on, don’t waste time! Buy a bouquet of snowdrops!’
‘I will ask Valery today to take me to her!’ Danila looked at me in such a way that I was afraid of breaking down. ‘Maybe she will forgive me?’
‘Of course she will’, I said firmly.
‘Will you come tomorrow?’ Danila asked me. Unable to utter a word, I nodded biting my lip.
I didn’t find him either on the next day or on the next but on day. Once, quite accidentally, I heard two elderly women talking on a bus.
‘Just imagine’, one of them said. ‘Such a young man went to a monastery. He was quite lost after the car accident. His wife didn’t accept him, and his son didn’t forgive him. And what a drunkard he was., what a drunkard!’
‘Excuse me, what’s his name?’ I asked her and grabbed her arm.
‘He is my neighbor, his name’s Danila. He used to work in the marketplace. His nickname as Mug, I don’t know why…
I never saw him again…
Life went on…
Life went on. My tent with household goods was in the center of the city. I waited patiently and cautiously for the road police guys to come up to me so that I would shove them 50 rubles and keep working calmly. One morning, before I put the stuff on the table, here they were in front of me! Looking astonished, just standing and blinking as if I and my goods were a ghost or a dream. I saw an acquaintance among them, named Sasha. He was a handsome, dark-eyed guy. I had made his acquaintance when I worked for Sa’id. He had borrowed some money from me (it was too long ago, so I don’t remember how much) and was not able to give it back.
‘Who placed you here?’ the one who looked their superior asked me after he recovered from the shock at last.
I was going to say that it was Alexander Alexandrovich, but I didn’t have time as Sasha dragged his friends away from me saying “come on, come on, I will explain it.” He must have decided that I had no patron. The guys went away and never came back.
My legs were like cotton, my knees were shaking. I knew that it was not the end. I will be approached again. Cops, bandits and the city administration, which had categorically forbidden tent trading on the city streets. Now and then, my eyes were dimmed with tears of self-pity. I tried to hold them off. After all, tears are usually accompanied with fear. I tried to reason,
‘OK, what awful things can happen to me? I won’t be shot or put in jail … In the worst case, they will take me away, put me, the tent and the goods in a truck and bring me to the nearest police station. There I will be released anyway, though all my goods will be confiscated. And I will start all over again…
These thoughts comforted me. I laid out the goods briskly, tied a blue apron, put red make-up on my lips, and started selling. To tell the truth, the place was excellent. I stood near the entrance to the indoor market where meat was sold. A huge avalanche of people, a much larger one than in the clothing market, walked past me. And there were a lot of tents with household goods, while I was the only one. Other tents, standing nearby, were selling clothes and washing and cleaning agents. Inviting people sprightly, sparing no effort, praising the Chinese yarn, combs, hair clips, I had time to graciously serve a crowd of buyers, severely decipher petty thieves, and secretly enjoy the abundant revenue.
‘What about your documents, beauty?’ I shuddered and looked up. Standing before me was respectable gentleman with a proud bearing and a leather folder under his arm. His plump lower lip was slightly protruded and pushed forward. He was carefully combed and perfumed. His grey squinted eyes looked very tenacious. My heart went cold. Once again, I looked at him attentively and decided that he was a chief cop.
I ran out of the tent I ran out of the tent, and we walked aside; I was trotting timidly, he was calmly in a businesslike manner. Faltering at every word, I honestly told him everything, though not in the correct order.
‘Well, the documents… Roman told me to discuss that. Alexander Alexandrovich agreed, too. They were all happy… So this is my place.
The an with a protruding lip yawned and interrupted me with a nod,
‘Fifty. You’ll be giving to me directly. In the evening.’
Every morning, when I came to the marketplace, I looked for my “boss”. I mostly found him at the slot machines. I would pull him by the sleeve carefully and murmur,
‘Here I am, Alexey Nikolayevich. Good morning. Did you have a good sleep? So I will place my tent, please? Same place? Thank you, thank you, Alexey Nikolayevich!
The whole marketplace, headed by Alexey Nikolayevich, laughed at me. But I knew nothing about it. And only a month later the softhearted Galina from neighboring tent, nicknamed Toothless (she really had no front teeth) told me that the guy, Alexey, was the same kind of businessman as I was, his tent selling shorts was close to mine. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she said that Alexey was barely making ends meet and had a huge debt to Gogi smart-ass, the, the guy he shared the tent with. He was a big fan of playing slot-machines. And the cops, to stay low profile, chose Alexey for collecting daily tribute.
‘The cops’, the toothless Galina lisped, looking around, ‘decided not to take money from you while Alexander Alexandrovich is on vacation, because one of them owes you money… And our pretzel, Alexey, just decided to earn some money… And he dies for laughter when you shake a leg in front of him! Hand him over to the cops, they will knock him out of the marketplace in a second! But don’t tell them it was me who told you this, OK?’
Anger squeezed my throat! If I saw the sun of a gun at that moment, I would grab his throat. And I would do that with my teeth. And he would have to call the nearest cops for help. Ha-ha-ha, I wonder what he would tell them?
I ran and ran around the marketplace in search of Alexey, but the guy vanished into thin air. My anger slowly faded. I had to go back to my tent.
‘It’s a shame. I lost my intuition and made such an awful blunder… I didn’t notice that no boss would collect money in the evening! I can imagine the way he laughed at me every morning! What do I do now? Hand him over to the cops? Simply refuse to pay? What is the best solution? Is there a solution? Well, how did it happen to me?… Who do I consult?’
‘Your documents!’ In front of me was a young man in a black suit. He had a leather folder under his arm.
‘Who are you?’ I attacked him. Another crook? Like Alexey?
‘No’, the guy looked quite confused. ‘I am a tax inspector. I have documents. I am not a crook.’
He fidgeted and started to get documents out of his shirt pocket. But the dense pile was stuck in the pocket and were unwilling to get out. The guy blushed even more and pulled it together with the pocket. I broke down and burst into tears. I was no longer able to shake with fear at the sight of someone with a folder or a briefcase.
‘What’s happened? Has anyone hurt you?’ the tax inspector asked me, frightened.
Without holding back the tears flowing from my eyelashes onto the clothesline, I boldly told him the whole story, from losing my place at the clothing market and it was given to the VIP Popova, to the whole market laughing at me including that son of a gun, Alexey.
The stranger, never interrupting, listened attentively. My fear was replaced by great confidence which I lacked. I stopped and straightened my shoulders. The man thought, and then said with firmly,
‘You know, don’t betray Alexey. Believe me, that can bring you more problems. Just stop paying him the money, and with no explanation.
And please don’t be mad with him. This is Russia, isn’t it? Maybe you will be friends in the future. Life is kind of unpredictable…’
‘I? With him? Friends? Never at all!’
‘Never say never’, the tax inspector said and left. And his prediction came true…
But making friends with Alexey was very far away…
In the evening, “Alexey Nikolayevich” came to me as usual. He didn’t suspect yet that he was just Alexey, a sun of a gun.
‘Show me the money, nice lady’, he said carelessly.
Then I started a big game. Looking simple-heartedly in his eyes, I purred like a naïve village woman,
‘Oh, Alexey Nikolayevich, dear. Police want to see me, I even dunno why. Sasha, a friend of mine, came and said, “Drop in, we must talk about the payment.” Well, I have a crowd, can’t step off. So I worry. What do they wanna know? Maybe they wanna raise the payment? I will say, ‘You’ve got enough, you do.” OK?’
Alexey turned pale… As to me, I felt my favorite taste of marmalade. I didn’t show it, though and stood quietly, eyes downcast.
‘What’s happened, dear Alexey Nikolayevich? Are you sick? You’re so pale in the face!’
‘No-o…’Alexey said in a strange voice. ‘I’m OK. Don’t go to the cops. I’ll do it myself.’
‘Oh, dear Alexey Nikolayevich! Why should you even waste your time? You see, Sasha came to me 3 times, asking me who I paid and why. As if he don’t know. I didn’t understand nothing… And there was so many people as luck. If I can’t see them today, I’ll do that tomorrow by all means…’
Alexey disappeared immediately. He came back running a few minutes later, red as a lobster, sweating and panting. “Yeah, yeah’, I grinned silently, gleefully. “Come on, come on, I bet you’ve made 5 laps around the marketplace. Well, for a rabid dog another circle is no problem.”
I looked at him with deep compassion.
‘Look’, he said. ‘I have learned everything… No need to go there… No need… They said don’t come… All of them did… Sasha did, too. They won’t take the money any more… That’s it. An inspection is underway there… Someone has nosed on them… Now they decided to stop that… So don’t go…’
‘Oh, yeah?! That’s great! So they won’t take the payment any longer? Terrific! I’ll go there anyway! I need to thank them! Will bring them candies…’
So I tortured Alexey for three days. For all those three days, he walked on shaky legs, constantly asking me if I had seen the cops. He was keenly aware that, for doing that, he would be kicked out of the marketplace like a rotten cucumber from the garden. I felt a great entrepreneur and, at the same time, a talented slaughterer. On the fourth day, new developments made me forget about Alexey.
We had a sudden inspection by the tax police checks. We were told to produce the city administration’s permission, without which trading was strictly forbidden. They all the available documents, and on the next day I was ordered to show at the administration, the 4th floor, room 307.
I put make-up, as in the restaurant before the performance. I didn’t put on the false eyelash though as I knew that I was going to cry. And cry a lot. Begging for forgiveness. The eyelashes would get wet and fall off.
I was interrogated by two elderly men. They questioned me for a long time, but I didn’t understand what they wanted from me. If they wanted to fine me, they would have given me a ticket long ago. If they wanted a bribe, I made no secret of being quite willing to give it. But something was not right. A younger cop came in, thick-lipped like Alexey. His name was Sergei Stepanovich. He clarified the situation.
They wanted me to give them the names of the cops everyone paid to for trading without the necessary documents as well as the one who collected the money for the cops. It was Alexey. My heart was pounding with sweet excitement. They promised me an official permission to trade in exchange for that information, which would be amazing. If I refused, I would be I was threatened for refusing to heavy fines and confiscation of goods.
What a mess I got in! Like a fly in honey!
“Permission to trade. That would be great. I’ll be working without problems. Will make a lot of money. That would be a dream come true…”
To squeal on the guys… On Sasha… But they don’t take money from me at all. In fact, the guys aren’t bad… They make little money, none of them has an apartment of his own… They all drink a lot… I won’t hand them over to the police. As to Alexey…”
There was a blank sheet of paper in front of me. The thick-lipped Sergei Stepanovich gave me a pen and a handkerchief as I did weep, just in case. I took the pen and wrote,
«Report.
I, such and such, trading illegally in the center of the city, in a tent near the Central Market, have the following to say: since I have absolutely no documents, we pay to a certain Alexey, who pockets it. He collects a lot of money, which brings him a huge profit due to the sufferings and troubles of the poor market women».
‘Write Alexey’s surname and address’, Sergei Stepanovich’s severe tone brought me out of my reverie.
The pen trembled and froze in the air. I knew Alexey’s surname and address. But it was the first time that I thought quite differently about him.
Alexey rented a studio near the marketplace. His family was his pregnant wife Lyuba and their one-year old son Pavel. Lyuba was in the last month of pregnancy and often came to the marketplace to watch Alexey. She was very jealous of him and didn’t want him to play the slot-machines.
I wasn’t happy about the report any longer. I started fidgeting on the chair and looking around furtively. And pressing the pen hard, I added the following at the very end of my report, “No one knows where Alexey lives. Alexey is his figurehead name. In fact, his name is Yefim.”
They took me to different offices and intimidated, frightened, scared me… The face began to merge into one, a large and menacing face… It was a group face of police chiefs, criminals, tax inspectors as well as Oleg Borisovich, Alexander Vasilyevich, and gury Rubin. I was crying incessantly. Sergey Stepanovich was confused. He looked at me crying, and didn’t know what to do and how to calm me down. And then he… let me go. Without fines, confiscation and threats…
I went forth into the light of day. The sun blinded my eyes and I blinked. When I opened my eyes, I saw in front of me a black-haired Armenian or maybe Georgian. Black hair even grew from his cheeks. He wasn’t young and always called me affectionately Bunny.
‘Why did you go to department, Bunny?’ he asked me severely like a father.
‘They wanted to fine me. We pay to the cops, and they wanted me to give them the names…’
‘You work in marketplace so long, but you are still a little fool… Why you pay the guard cop? Why?
He is just nobody, understand? He has no power, he can do nothing. The police chief is OK, he’s a major. And them little ones? Just nobody. You see?’
‘Well, I can’t I just walk in the office and offer money for my tent. He would throw me out immediately!’
‘Come on! Why throw you out? Don’t he want to take it? Everybody want! Me, for example. If you give me something, I refuse? All people are human people. The major, too.
You must talk correct. Walk in, sit down. Tell him. Well, I have a tent, and all want, everybody want. I am here. Please advise me (my teacher made a meaningful pause), ad-vise. Say this word three times, don’t just give him money, he won’t take. Say I want one guy to help me. Not all guys, just one guy.
He, well… He is human man… For example, his wife want to can tomatoes. He will tell me, “Goga, I want 20 kilos tomatoes.”
Don’t I see?
You don’t give and don’t offer nothing. Let he first show what he can do, how he can help… Don’t you respect your job?… Look to him well. May be he simply talk bla-bla-bla. For example, can he help you with tax inspection…
Then you see what he want. For example, rope, rubber band…
And better if the cop is higher, for example, from department. Find. Then you have no problem.
My tent is downtown. No documents, no tax pay. But look here (Goga showed me his passport, there was a phone number on the last page). If someone comes, I call. 5 minutes, and he’s here. OK at once.
And you, fool, pay all the little ones… I don’t understand you…
Don’t you tell them about nobody. Never. What you think they give you? They promise place permission, right? Ha-ha-ha!… They give you kick permission, OK? You squeal on cop, they put him in another place, that’s it… The department guys have rewards and promotions. They all together. And they all drink beer and laugh at you… And you don’t never go with your tent. Ah, Bunny, Bunny…
I came to the marketplace…
I came to the market. Galina the Toothless’ tent is gone.
‘One should keep one’s mouth shut.’ Sasha the cop gave me a short explanation.’ By the way, you can put another tent if you want. On the opposite side of the marketplace, where they sell eggs from trucks. There are many people there, too.’
Great news! Places like that are no easy to find! Oleg and I put another tent. That was our next business level as we hired a sales woman and a loader.
We also had new problems. Guys showed up offering “protection.” While the clothing market was really controlled, here was a complete mess. Several groups of bandits would sometimes come during the day. The offered, threatened and intimidated. The charge was the same tough, five hundred rubles a month.
‘Will you stay here the whole day watching the thieves?’ I would round my eyes trustfully pretending that I was just crazy about it.
‘No, that’s impossible’, the tough guys would answer, casually throwing stone beads from one hand to the other.
‘Then you can protect me from the tax inspection and the cops?’
‘No, of course not’, they would be getting nervous.
So why should I pay you? I would ask in bewilderment and raise my eyebrows showing enhanced mental action.
No one could answer that question. So I refused to talk.
Viktor, a big and fat guy who even managed to take the rent from the old women selling herbs, decided to approach me in a different way. He announced that he wanted to be paid in goods rather than money.
Once he came up and stretched his plump hand to the counter. The blood rushed to my head, and I, not realizing anything for anger and fear, caught his hand… and grabbed it with my teeth. Like a wild cat in the jungle. Viktor cried out in horror and looked at his fingers: red marks of the teeth were clearly visible. I was also looking… What, then, O Lord?
Viktor was furious, his face was getting dark, but he didn’t know what to do either. Then he quickly took heart again and grabbed something from the counter. I, as quickly and violently, bit his hand through again. The bleeding hand lost a coil of rope.
‘Shame on you!’ a woman said who stood close by and saw the whole thing.
‘You know what I’ll do to you? I’ll bury you!’ poured Viktor his anger on her.
Probably, he meant me, but the poor woman appeared in the wrong place at the wrong time. He kept threating the woman while following her away from my counter. I stood behind the counter and understood that it wasn’t the end of the story. Viktor was a kind of authority in the marketplace. It was obvious that he would never forgive me.
I was afraid of coming to work. But I didn’t want to pay Viktor either. I knew the way it was: first you let someone grab something from your counter, then they will require money. It’s quite enough to give up the slack at least once… A la guerre comme à la guerre….
Viktor would pass by a few times without looking at me. I need to say that we had known each other for a long time. We got acquainted when I worked for Sa’id, and there was no animosity between us. He would often come up and tell me funny stories. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just had that kind of job. The truth is as simple as day and it comes down to the clothes line in the backyard, where baby panties are drying. Viktor had four children…
I could not stand the strain. Who knows what to expect every day. Shaking with fear, I walked over to Viktor.
‘Viktor’, I said, ‘we have quarreled. ‘You have hurt me, quite unjustly. You remember the way I began. I am a self-made woman. I had no Mom or Dad to help me. I am an orphan. You should not take anything away from me. I am sorry for biting you. I think you are also sorry for hurting me. You know that I always had a great respect for you. Let’s make peace, Vitya.’
‘But how?’ Viktor asked wildly. His eyes became as round as those of a little boy.
‘This is how’, I said and took him by the hand I had bitten twice, snatched his plump finger with my little finger and started shaking it from side to side saying, ‘Make peace, make peace, and if you fight, I’ll bite off a piece.’
Since then, Viktor never approached me. The market women told me that the bandits thought I was a complete fool and didn’t want to mess with me…
After a while, when Oleg and I got the first department in the gems store, we again faced the “protection” problem. The cafe in which we were allowed to open the “Eastern Store” belonged to the state and thus not controlled by bandits. So all kinds of people came to us. Those who had just come back from prison and wanted easy money, and different criminal groups, and even our friends from the clothing market saying that I would always be one of them. I had so many “appointments” every day that I lost patience and went to the police department. Since I didn’t know anyone there except the thick-lipped Sergei Stepanovich, I walked in his office directly. He, oddly enough, was happy to see me.
‘Hello, crybaby! Come on in. I wondered where you were. Any problems?’
I told him that the bandits were bugging me.
‘Please understand, Sergei Stepanovich said, ‘that your voice should be quite firm. Behave arrogantly. Use coarse language, that’s what they understand best of all. And to get rid of them, mention this name and phone number… Say it’s a friend of yours.
Now repeat what I’ve just told you.’
He made me repeat his words over and over again to reach ‘”ultimate arrogance”. And after I felt so natural that f…ed him, Sergei Stepanovich was happy and let me go.
‘That’s great’, he said. ‘You can go now.’
I went back to my department. I was being waited for, of course. I pronounced my speech loudly and distinctly trying not to omit a single word. When I finished it and opened my eyes, there was nobody there. Since then, no one bothered me again. As if my speech had been broadcast across the whole city.
Some time later, I came to the police department again to thank Sergei Stepanovich. I bought a coffee pot and a kilo of chocolates, the more so that it was February 23, Defender of the Fatherland Day. This time, the duty officer at the entrance to the office refused to let me in saying that I had no subpoena with me. I showed him the coffee pot and the bag of chocolates and said that they were for Sergei Stepanovich. He called him on the phone and said sarcastically,
‘Come out, Sergei Stepanovich. There is someone with gifts for you.’
I had to wait. Half an hour passed. Then an hour. What’s the matter? Suddenly I saw the thick-lipped guy peeping out.
‘Oh, is it you?’ he asked me.
‘Of course’, I said. ‘It’s been an hour already. Maybe you don’t even want to offer me a cup of tea? In this case, I have mine.’
Sergei Stepanovich took me to his office. When walking, he was laughing like crazy. I had made an awful stir on his whole floor. He was working calmly in his office and, all of a sudden, Kostya, an officer from the neighboring department, broke in and yelled,
‘That’s it! You’re finished! They wanna get you in wrong! A woman with a present is waiting for you downstairs! I’ve told you many times that your department is under the hood…’
Sergei Stepanovich started running around his office, “Guys, make sure it’s clean in the hallway!” They took everything out of the desks, checked the hallway, began looking for bugs. I was scrutinized, but they didn’t understand who I was… Then, at last, Sergei Stepanovich went down and recognized me. The guys were working so hard that they simply forgot about the holiday. I sang them my favorite song about ships and recited poetry. Then I sang again. A lot of people gathered in the office. I was fond of singing since I lived in the countryside. Many guys recognized me,
‘That’s the one’, they whispered while I was singing in the middle of the room, ‘who trades downtown with any documents… She also performs Arab dances…’
Sergei Stepanovich became my best friend… He is now a big boss and works in another city.
It was a shame…
It was a shame that the whole city knew that I was trading without documents. I decided to get those papers whatever it would cost me.
A place permission was only given in absolutely extraordinary cases, such as mothers of large families with disabled children, outstanding war veterans, and VIP. I didn’t fall into either categories. So I had to do my best.
City administration inspections were very frequent. Sometimes, the cops informed us in advance as they had friends there as well. If I saw Sasha running and waving his hand, it meant that I had to leave immediately!
The sequence of actions was automatic, like in a case of an atomic explosion. Sometimes the customer would pull her purse out of her bag, raise her eyes – and see that the goods and the whole tent were gone. The place was just empty. Everyone knew where to run and what to carry away first of all. Things of lower priority would be piled on the grass and covered with cardboard.
If Sasha was running without waving his hand, we were not supposed to disperse but, instead, go to the 2nd floor and talk to the inspectors. If the inspector was female, we would send Alexei. In case of a man, I was sent. We would sigh and go…. There was not a single case when I or Alexei (we were good friends now) would fail.
It took me some time to master the art of bribing. In the marketplace, it’s considered the highest art. You should be careful and avoid hurting the person you are bribing. It’s not his or her fault that their professional dignity is wiped by a low salary. So I have to talk nonsense to give him the money quietly. I would say about the Arab dances, guru Rubin, Polina, my desire to play in a movie. After that, the inspector would forget why we met…
As to Alexei, there was no need to teach him. He was “a ladies’ professor”. He would pay so many great compliments to the inspector that she would be like to stay at his tent forever. Once I watched and wondered the whole day.
Tax police arrived by several cars. Nobody had told us about the inspection. They surrounded several tents. It was winter. I stood like cabbage, in felt boots and a feather shawl, looking like a ball and hardly turning around.
Alexei’ tent was on the edge, and it was the first one to inspect. I was next to him. There were several guys, all of them wore speckled uniform and red armbands. Looking very serious. They asked Alexei’s seller to show them the documents. She clapped her cow’s eyelashes… and remained silent. I was even afraid of looking at her.
‘Where is the owner?’ the guys asked her. Irina, the seller, pursed her lips started moving her shoulders up and down, meaning that she had no idea. It was Alexei’s schooling.
‘All right. If the owner is absent, we will talk to you. Give us your documents.’
Irina was frightened.
‘The master is in the utility room.’
‘Run and bring him. If you don’t want us to take the tent away…’
She ran. Her shawl disheveled, she fell twice. The road was trampled and slippery.
They waited and waited, but Irina didn’t come back. They came up to me. Scared to death (my teeth were chattering), I put my hands on my hips and jabbered,
‘You see, I stand here. I am not independent. I represent a state-owned store. We have nowhere to go, see how many tents (I pointed to Alexei’s tent) have no documents, they don’t let us work. We all have the same goods. But they are all here. We too… My chief has instructed me. If you don’t believe me, I’ll run and bring her. Please keep an eye on the stuff, OK? It belongs to the state. One can even be sued if something happens to it.
They guys stared at me, then their chief, a wall-eyed one, nodded,
‘No need to go. We believe you.’
As soon as he closed his mouth, Irina came running. Disheveled, wet, her sweatshirt wide open, looking happy as if she had been gifted with jewels in the utility room.
‘No’, she shouts, ‘the master won’t come.’
And with a straight face she crawled into his tent again, suspiciously counted all the bras and panties on the counter, and roared in a loud voice,
‘Cheap clothing! Come on, come quick!’
“Probably Alexei please her in the utility room”, I decided looking at Irina’s happy eyes.
The guys were furious.
‘What do you mean he won’t come?’ Do you want us to load you and your tent so that your Mom won’t find you?’
Irina hiccupped and took out a cigarette. Her fingers were trembling. She made a smoke ring silkily.
‘Come on!!’, the wall-eyed one yelled.
She flew out of the tent like a bullet, and her shaggy head was flashing far away.
While everyone’s attention was distracted by the sluttish Irina, the tent next to me quietly vanished into thin air as if it had never existed. The others were also close to extinction. The stuff had already been removed from the tables and packed in large bags, which the agile sellers had already passed over to the right people. The only things left were the tents and the tables, which, after the incredibly quick operation resembled some ancient ruins. Casting an experienced glance at the situation, the guys immediately called for reinforcement. And in a few minutes, the remaining tents without any goods but with frightened sellers were put in the cars that drove up. There was nothing left but my and Alexei’s tents.
‘Who’s this?’ pointed at me the young guys wearing blotchy uniform who were coming up constantly.
‘She is working for the store’, the wall-eyed tall guy explained. I was close to a break-down. When a customer would come up, I just shook my head from side to side and was silent like deaf and dumb.
Finally the guys lost their patience and they firmly strongly ordered Irina to pack her things. Then came the foul Alexei.
He was walking in the sheaf of sunlight…
He was walking in the sheaf of sunlight, looking absolutely happy. His eyes were irradiating universal peace and love to the world. He was quite drunk. I had never seen such happy people. Seeing the guys clinging to the tent and gazing fiercely at him, he opened wide his arms and ran towards them as fast as he could.
‘Guys! You are still here for me! I am so happy!’ he exclaimed trying to embrace and kiss each of them. The guys would shake him off and turned way with disgust.
‘I am clean before you! Clean like a tear!’ Alexei yelled muzzily as if struck by lightning and tears of complete happiness were rolling down his cheeks. No matter how hard they pushed him repeatedly, he managed to keep his balance. More than that, he would grab another “victim” with his arms and legs, kiss him loudly in both cheeks, and exclaim happily,
‘Clean and pure! Like a tear! I am clean, my dear friends!’
More than that, the bastard noticed me and waved his hand cheerfully,
‘It’s OK! They are all my friends! Why are you so pale? They won’t do you any harm! We love them!’
Smiling to the guys, which meant “it’s impossible to talk to a drunk one?” I pressed my chin to my chest, put my lips together and whispered quietly to the son of a gun, “Get away from me!..”
‘It’s OK, Tamara! Don’t worry! The papers are no problems! Because you don’t have them! You hiss like a snake!’
At that moment I hated him with the most perfect hatred existing in the world. Because I always had to smile and smile flatteringly in all directions, while my soul strongly demanded only one thing – to let my body leave the tent and, with all my might, give a loud slap to the most blatant mug that had ever been born on this planet.
The tax police guys stood there perplexed for a while.
‘We have no time for taking drunkards to drunk tanks’, their chief said at last and they went away.
I didn’t sleep a few nights…
I didn’t sleep a few nights, thinking about the chief, the guy with the terrible thorn. The overstrain of that day took the form of semi-delirium that came, sometimes in a dream and sometimes in reality.
I was lying on a long wooden bench, bound hand and foot with iron chains that dug painfully into my skin. Candles burned on the sides. I didn’t see them clearly as it was hard to turn my head because of severe pain in the back. “Something hit me hard from behind”, I thought. It seemed that I was prepared to be sacrificed by a sect, but there were no people around. Only huge dragonflies, their transparent green wings rustling terribly, were flying around me, sometimes touching me with their biting paws. I was doing my best to turn aside. Sometimes, I even managed to lift my heavy arm. The chain would clink dully and would I hit the dragonfly’s dreadful brittle wings. They would tear with a bang, and the dragonflies would flop heavily behind the bench. But more would come.
I decided to go to the city hall and ask for a place permission.
Quite unexpectedly…
I came on the same day to a very important commission which decided everything related to the trading places. To make an appointment, one had to register 3 months in advance. Naturally, my name was not present on the long list that hung in the conference hall.
The line was huge and consisted of people with disabilities and mothers of large families. And the people with disabilities were as a selection. I had a solid impression that they were very close to dying, so they decided to dedicate those few remaining days of their lives to their favorite business. The crutches, freshly bandaged heads and limbs, pathetic faces aroused a bitter thought: “My God, how misfortunate people could be!” And it seemed that, in response to my thoughts, all the disabled ones nodded obediently and answered in a friendly chorus,
‘Right you are. We are really quite miserable.’
Many of them were so badly sick that they were unable to crawl to the office. In such cases, their numerous relatives helped them. They would lead the poor soul carefully into the office with such expressions which would probably make the members of the committee feel quite guilty if they did not provide a document to let the dying person trade in a decent place enjoying life before he or she dies.
On the contrary, the invalids walking out of the office looked awfully malicious, which is not typical at all for those on the threshold of eternity.
Mothers and their numerous offspring also came with the grandmothers and other relatives. And those people helped them nurse and diaper the dirty, snotty babies. As I noticed, they were slow to feed those babies despite their desperate cries and pre-prepared bottles of porridge. When it was their turn, the mothers would tear from their grandparents’ hands and go in the office, pushing angrily the backs of their sullen senior children. Their rags they were so picturesque that I could hardly remember where I had seen the like.
I saw them in the children’s theater performance about homeless kids in the years of the civil war.
Mothers coming out of the office fed their dirty little ones with redoubled fury, slammed the door loudly and went out into the fresh air.
I was the last one to go in. All those present stared at me with amazement. Weary bosses were sitting at the long table, their faces looked completely exhausted. Konstantin Ivanovich, a young deputy mayor for trade, was sitting at the end of the table. He had thick blond hair and weary eyes.
I went ahead quietly and sat without permission on a chair that was probably intended to the visitors as the hosts were all sitting in easy chairs. No one asked me any questions, so I cleared my throat slowly and she gave a speech,
‘I have been coming here for 2 years, and I understood long ago that it’s all in vain. I have no complaints to you because I’m not disabled or a mother of many children. The only reason why I am here is because I have given a promise to the police who has fined me once again. Of course I would like to have a permit and pay taxes to the state, because I still trade without any documents… But what can I do? If I were you, I would do the same. Especially since I’m not starving and feed my children very well. I make good money. If I had more money, I would first buy a expensive dance costumes. To perform my dear Arab dances in restaurants…’
As I had nothing to lose, I wanted to add that I was “a fantastic dancer”, but I looked at those present and understood that I had never seen such odd facial expressions. “They don’t think that I am a good dancer, they just don’t believe me.” I never liked being considered a liar. And then it hit me. I took a pack of fresh photos out of my bag and stood up proudly. I gave the pictures to all those guys, everyone got 3 photos. The pictures showed me performing in a restaurant. I didn’t prepare those photos, just received them at the studio earlier on the same day.
Suddenly, the bosses rustled and moved their chairs. As if someone pressed a playback button and let a cassette reproduce live music. They were having fun talking, looking at the photos and exchanging them with the neighbors. Konstantin Ivanovich didn’t get his eyes off me, looking at me very closely. He seemed to be deep in thought about something, amazed of the idea that all of a sudden had visited him. I was happy that I proved to the audience that I really was a restaurant dancer.
At last, Konstantin Ivanovich stood up resolutely and knocked at the table asking for attention. He looked like the country’s president who had just signed an important decree. It became quiet in the room.
‘Comrades!’ he said, We are having a very special case today. This is the first time that a lady doesn’t roll up her eyes and doesn’t implore us to pity her miserable children. This is the first time that we here an honest confession. I also want to confess that I like woman very much. (“Me too, me too!” exclaimed the others enthusiastically.) Therefore, I ask you to make an exclusion and imagine that this is an Afghan war veteran who deserves permission to trade in the middle of the city. In “60 years of USSR” street.’
Everybody raised their hands. I was absolutely bewildered and went out without even thanking them.
I was no longer a small insect…
I was no longer a small insect! I had an official permission to trade! A legal paper with 3 official stamps! I was more than happy! But I knew nothing about the problems in store for me…
As indicted in the permission, I set my tent in “60 years of USSR” street, and hired a seller. I didn’t want to lose the profitable place in the good market though. That’s why I continued working there as before, without permission. But having the official paper filled my soul with power and confidence in my future.
Once again, the food market director was changed. This time it was Pharisee, an extremely angry guy. Actually, I had never seen such fierce creatures. He was short, fat, with a big belly extending to both of his pants, and he always had an expression of disgust on his face. He seemed to be in permanent amazement of the sufferings he had to endure every day communicating with his surroundings. Pharisee calculated that the land on which our tents stood belonged to the marketplace and set a flat rate – 1,000 rubles a month. Otherwise, he gave a month deadline to get out of the marketplace as far away as possible. Everyone scratched their heads and decided to pay as there was no way out . I didn’t though. And when I got the permission to trade, I felt extremely proud of myself. “Because”, absurd thoughts flashed in my head, “if I was allowed to trade in the marketplace, this Pharisee would lick his lips like a cat. Then he wouldn’t get me just the way the cat can’t reach his ears.” The month was expiring,, and Pharisee’s young secretary came to warn me.
I overestimated my capabilities and probably decided that my charm is boundless. So I just went straight to Pharisee’s office and boldly told him that I would not pay. After that, I stared in horror at the result of my words.
Something gurgled in Pharisee’s throat. His face flushed and became sinister green. Then it went white with rage. His eyes with red eyelids twitched quickly. The veins on his neck were swollen and blue, which meant that Pharisee much was screaming like crazy. But I didn’t hear it, because for me, all the sounds were kind of turned off momentarily. The screaming was incredibly loud though as the receptionists jumped up and ran out instantly in great fear.
The horror that swept me broke through an irreparable breach in the defense. I made a mistake. Assuming that the angry Pharisee would not understand what was happening, I pulled out and gave him the official permission I had received at the city hall. The Pharisee would not have noticed the discrepancy. But my eyes widened in fear, so he, due to his instinct of a beast, he felt that this something was wrong in that sheet of paper. That’s why he looked into it attentively from top to bottom, and… a gloating monstrous smile lit up his green face. Without taking his slightly trembling eyes off me, the monster dialed a number and roared into the phone,
‘Hi, Konstantin! Look, there is a blockhead here in my office. You gave her a permission to trade. OK, let me see… Well, it says 60 Years of USSR street. Her surname is Zolotova… You know what? She’s fooling everybody here. Trying to protect herself with your name. She says that you allow her to trade in this marketplace… Can you imagine that? She’s mocking at you! What do I do? Take it away? (Pharisee put the paper quickly in his desk). Look, how come you trust such crooks? She’s just an arrogant liar! I am going to call the cops, let them throw her out of my office!’
I managed to feel the door and went out. The hallway seemed almost endless. The terrified receptionists were looking at me with obvious sadness.
Gloomy thoughts, like black feathers on the road, were dancing in my head.
“I am finished. Oh, my God, it was my first legal document. Will serve you right, fool!.. I can only snap my eyes at people. Who the hell do I think I am? Arab dances, yeah? Who are you, idiot? Nothing then a stupid rotten radish! I have lost everything, just everything… No marketplace, no 60 Years of USSR. They won’t take be back to school either. Everything is lost…”
Another bad piece of news was that Oleg collided with another car. Both drivers were OK, but the cars were crushed. So we were just sitting and crying over the split milk. I was looking at the same point on the ceiling for exactly three days. Life seemed a hopeless black hole. An string of uninterrupted stupidities and misunderstandings.
On the fourth day, I stood up. I had to do something. And I went to the city hall, there were no more options. I found the office, persuaded the receptionist, opened the door and walked in.
Konstantin Ivanovich was sitting at the table looking through the papers. At the sound of the door, he looked up, saw me, and once went through the papers. But his face now looked like an impenetrable stone. I went in without permission and sat down opposite to him. It’s impossible to describe the shame I felt. Tears streamed softly down my cheeks. The silence in the room was deafening.
‘I hope’, Konstantin Ivanovich raised his light-blue eyes, ‘you understand that you have lost the right to trade in this city. Tears streamed down even harder on my cheeks.
‘And don’t try to soften me, you’ll never do it,’ Konstantin Ivanovich resolutely stood up and looked down, thus making it clear that the conversation was over. It seemed to me that he even clicked on the floor with his shoe. His whole figure was amazingly severe.
‘Konstantin Ivanovich, you misunderstood me… I am not here to ask you to give me the permission back… This is out of the question… I have had an absolutely fair punishment. (My voice let me down. To avoid breaking down, I started speaking in a very low voice). I am here because I could not but come… I am suffering because I let you down. You asked the whole committee for me… But I… lied… I am sorry.’
I walked to the exit. When I took the door handle, Konstantin Ivanovich’s excited voice made me stop,
–‘Why did you do that? Looking at you, I would never think… that you could do that.’
‘Yes’, I confessed. ‘I often lie, especially when I am scared. And though Pharisee is your friend, I will tell you the truth… He has such terrible veins on his neck…
I walked out. Konstantin Ivanovich caught me in the hallway, took my shoulders, turned me and said,
‘Wait a minute… You think we are all wild beasts here? Take your permission and never do that again. If you have some problems… contact me…’
Life was going on…
I went to Moscow every 3 days. The staff I was selling in the tents was sold out quickly. When I had enough money, I would set off. The first thing I did when I stepped down on the platform was going to the café. I used to scold myself bitterly that I had no small change left! This time I had to pull a 1000 banknote out of the bundle. I gave it to the stout salesgirl with a lot of bright makeup, and was going to order a cup of coffee and a piece of bread with cheese and heard, but heard someone behind me saying, “Give me five bottles of beer and three packs of Marlboro.” I wanted to ask the guy to respect the queue but saw the salesgirl’s stony face. The color was slowly disappearing from the crimson cheeks. She was distractedly wiping my banknote as if trying to scrape the paint off it.
‘Don’t you here?’ the guy roared threateningly, pushed my aside with his shoulder and stood in front of me. ‘I say beer and cigarettes!’
Looking at his shaggy head, I began to suspect that he was going to buy it with my money, because he never took out his own.
‘This is my money’, I said with indignation.
The guy threw his arms theatrically and shouted at the top of his voice,
‘Are you all crazy? I shed my blood in Afghanistan, and here an arrogant woman wants to rob me! I will call the cops!’
‘OK’, I said. ‘Our cops will teach you a lesson!’
Everything happened extremely fast: a second later, a few young guys in police uniform entered the café. I felt relief hoping that the conflict would be settled immediately. But the guys surrounded me and told me to show them my documents.
‘Why me?’ I asked them, astonished. ‘It’s he who wants to steal my money, right?’
The Afghan war veteran pulled tore his vest and started pounding vigorously on his hairy chest. His voice was hoarse, torn, and his eyes looked mischievous and feverish. And yet, standing next to the guards, I felt calm – until they told me to go to the police station. Puzzled, I tried to speak and explain something to no avail though. One of the cops started to pull my bag out of my hands maybe suspecting that the bag had all the money I had earned, the other cop was eagerly pushing me in the back.
‘OK’, I said. ‘I will go to the police department if the young man who has stolen my money goes there with me.’ After saying that, I noticed slight confusion around me. The guys in the uniform looked at the war veteran and he nodded slightly. Then I understood! They are one gang! When we come to the police department, they will take all the money I had earned by my hard work! More than that, they will make me stay there till next morning! My body contracted as if ready to spring and flushed with force. If you show that you are scared, you are lost! I clung to the wall like a wolf. I was surrounded by enemies: the saleswoman, the police, the bandits. My heart was trembling heart, my mouth was dry. But can you afford losing yourself in this animal world? I imagined that I was in a deep forest, gathered all my courage, and said firmly, with a lot of dignity,
‘I am the daughter of our city’s regional prosecutor.’ (I mentioned a name that first came to mind). ‘If at least one hair falls from my head, you guys will go to jail. You’, I nodded at the frightened saleswoman, ‘and you, guys, who are supposed to protect me, and you, crazy thief. My father will get you all from the bottom of the sea and strangle in prison with his own hands.’
Why does complete lie help me in difficult times? In the marketplace, it was the orphanage story. Now, I thought that I uttered black magic phrases which shut their mouths tightly. Every mouth was really closed, and the bulging eyes betrayed enhanced alertness. Not a second could be lost. I walked over to the counter, reached over and took my bill, which was still clutched in the salesgirl’s whitened fingers.
‘Didn’t you see that it’s my money?’ I asked softly. The salesgirl started nodding quickly. I moved to the exit proudly. When I reached the door, I stopped and added, looking at the stunned cops,
‘I am going to call my father to make sure that this criminal has been brought to the police department.’ And started dialing an unknown number, my fingers trembling.
The Afghan was veteran was the first to come to his senses. He rushed up to me (the cops were holding him) and screamed, spewing saliva:
‘You fool, you think you have won? They will let me go earlier than you get to the subway station! I will put a bullet in your head! Just wait! You’ll die in five minutes!’
It had been long ago that I had experienced such horror. My feet disobeyed me when went down into the subway, and the premonitions made the back of my head cold. Bumping into people, I got in the train, but I had no idea where I was going and why. People yelled at me when I stepped on their feet, stupidly marking time. I arrived at the distribution center and thoughtlessly bought household goods. The sponges were not heavy but very bulky, and when the bags were carried out of the warehouse, there were a lot of them. I didn’t understand anything. The owner called a taxi to the station for me. Suddenly, we were not allowed to the platform as it had been before. “New order of the authorities”, the cop said. The taxi driver unloaded all the bags into the snow and left. I wanted to summon a porter, but the money was not there for some reason. Today, all dropped out of my hands, the thoughts in my head were quite confused…
I found some small change in my jacket pocket and bought a bottle of beer. After making a few greedy gulps, I heard that my train boarding was over. I rushed to the bags. While I was dragging them to the train, all aboard, so I had to beg the conductor to let me in. Usually, I came well in advance to place the purchased goods in the empty train. This time, the people refused to stand up and clear their seats to let me put my luggage underneath. “Occupied”, they told me, as if by agreement. With the hair stuck to my burning cheeks, tears streaming down, carrying lots of huge plaid bags, I was rushing through the car, and no one, but no one wanted to help me. The train was picking up speed, the conductor was checking the tickets and screaming telling me to clear the passage immediately. An unbearable back pain was growing like an avalanche. Sometimes, life presents us with really dark moments!
‘Damned speculators’, a tall white-haired old man said looking me straight in the eye with hatred.
‘A speculator and a drunkard’, a stout woman in a white knitted blouse said happily.
At that moment, I noticed the half-finished bottle of beer that I held in my hand. My dark-green jacket, stained with something white, didn’t have one of the buttons, my boots were dirty and dusty. My hair stuck to my cheeks. And no mirror to look in…
Drunk! Where are the police? – two old women sitting opposite each other began nodding their heads in black kerchiefs. I looked around in confusion. Well-dressed decent people sat proudly in their seats, drinking tea and nibbling biscuits, peeling home eggs on white napkins, sending delicious slices of pink sausage and tender bacon into their mouths. I was an outcast, a rejected huckster. Breathing heavily, I leaned back against the wall and look around like a hunted animal. Talking to each other, encouraged more and more with the topic that united them, they were looking at me with contempt and making fun of me. The corrosive and odorous words were choking me as if I had ended up in a gas chamber.
Without any pity, I would turn all of them to ashes. My body exuded a lonely beast’s fury and choking gusts of hissing smoke. Those gusts enveloped the car getting into all the cracks of that hostile space. I hated those self-righteous people, who, thanks to me, experienced a long-forgotten unity. I hated their manicured hands entwined with rings as well as the work-worn hands unaccustomed to expensive rings. As if in a dream, I was following the young guy who dared to help me, while the gusts of toxic smoke were following me. Even the frightened young children clung to their mothers when I was passing by. After all the bags were placed with great difficulty, I sat down in my place, and although I didn’t want it, I drank all the beer. I was hurrying and getting choked with that bitter swill, yellow drops falling from my lips right on the table. The woman sitting next to me recoiled in horror and held her lace handkerchief to her face.
The throne of our life was still occupied by socialist morality. Sticking the tip of the snake’s tongue, it was diligently and joyfully pulled the strings connected to the people. The wheels were rattling and creaking, the night outside blossomed in mourning snags, shadows, and stars…
Alexander Vasilyevich suddenly invited…
Alexander Vasilyevich suddenly invited me to an individual conversation…
I stood in front of a large table covered with red damask. Despite the darkness of the room, I noticed that the fringe on the corners had peeled and now hung in tatters. Long black candles were burning all over the table. Alexander Vasilyevich, Oleg Borisovich and Larisa Petrovna. were sitting at the table, looking at me. They occasionally glanced at the burning candles and back at me, and the explicit sadness of their look struck me…
My light excitement gradually passed into fear. Just before the fear transformed in horror, the flame of all the candles suddenly twitched sharply and started beating about alarmingly in all directions. As though all the windows and doors flung open at the same time opened and the air burst into the room.
The long snake-like shadows on the walls, twisting elastically, ran into each other as if in a terrible marriage dance… Hot black nests were bubbling on the tablecloth. It seemed that little serpents would come out of the bursting bubbles and crawl all over the table…
There was a smell across the room… When you lift a black swollen snag out of the water covered with green mold algae and it will the murky water still darker, you will feel the same smell that filled the room…
‘You no longer exist in the world of the living’, Alexander Vasilyevich said quietly. His whisper had the power of the loudest scream in the mountains. ‘Look at the candles. Look at the candles. Almost all of them have gone out. The gods say that you turned off the Path. The Path we had been placed upon by the great guru Rubin. But one can only go to the disastrous void from that Path…
Perhaps you wanted to turn into ashes, in nothing. So that snakes would crawl out of the empty eye-pit of your dead skull.’
The terrible words were creeping into the subconscious, folding in stirring coils. But I was absolutely alive. The palms of my hands crossed behind my back were disgustingly sticky.
“There is no path someone can force me to take”, I was whispering to myself trying not to go crazy, while my teeth were chattering with fear. “It’s up to me to choose a path, nobody has the right to force me. Nothing bad will happen to me. Nothing bad will happen..”
I rushed back. There was a huge mirror on the door leading into the hallway. First it seemed to me that the mirror was covered with something white. “It’s usually done when someone is dead”, the thought flashed in my mind. The thought resembled a crazy entrapped seagull rushing and hitting her head on the bars and dropping her bloodstained feathers…
But the mirror was not covered. It reflected my face, quite black as if charred.
Have you ever experienced horror? Horror, which is akin to an icy mountain? Horror clearly smelling of funeral ribbons, wet rusty flowers and fresh pine branches!
I found those cut branches right under my feet, on the floor across the room and in the cold darkness of the corridor. They had clear oozing blood, drops hanging on the needles. There were especially many branches, already tied with black curving ribbons right by the front door, which I felt with my icy fingers but could not open… I remembered quite clearly that when I had come into that room there were no pine branches there…
I was tearing and tearing the door trying to open it, but it wouldn’t open. “I won’t get out of here alive …”
«They want to bury me here alive. And I am absolutely alive. But if I believe that I no more exist in the world of living, I will really disappear from it…
Oh, my God! Have you, humans, ever experienced that horror: you try to wake up but you can’t because this is not a dream?!
They want to bury me alive. All of them: Alexander Vasilyevich, guru Rubin, and, which is the most awful thing, my Oleg!
I am still alive, quite alive, I have a passionate heart and an unfathomable Universe inside me, full of desperation, but they are already burying me!»
In spite of any suspicions about my strange relationship to the world, I was always proud of an important thing. I was proud that I had never had any sound or auditory hallucinations. But when, hurting my bleeding fingers, I was tearing the door trying to open it, I heard distinctly sea waves splashing and seagulls crying in shrill voices right over my head. I even pulled my head in my shoulders and closed my eyes, in the fast-growing horror resembling a tornado, at the last moment, when the door flung opened and I rushed into the saving light. At that moment, I heard a crazy old woman screaming awfully. The screaming and laughter followed me to the stairs on which I ran jumping in a few steps…
I no longer had a place in this world…
I no longer had a place in this world… In the world where seagulls scream in deafening voices. I am a crazy woman.
Then, Valery Petrovich, I decided to enter a monastery.
I had failed completely. I failed to save Oleg’s soul. Can a crazy woman save anyone?
My son left home for ever. I had missed the moment when he began seeing his father frequently…
That evening, they came over together. It was several years since I had seen my husband last time. His gloating smile astonished me and I understood that something had happened…
My wife was parting with me as in an awfully slow dream… He said, “Thanks, Mom, everything has been great…”
‘So you will never come back to me? Why?”
Thanks, Mom, everything has been great…’
My daughter was sitting on her knees, embracing my legs and crying. My heart felt frozen. “Why is she crying so bitterly?” I asked myself.
“This was to be expected”, my ex-husband said solemnly. “Our daughter will soon run away from you, too.” Then you will crawl to me by yourself.”
“Oh. no… Can this ever happen? Why is everyone leaving me? I don’t want to be left alone…”
My home was quite empty now. My son wouldn’t take my calls. My ex-husband would pick up the receiver and say slowly and distinctly that our son didn’t want to see me again…
Oleg spent more and more time at Alexander Vasilyevich’s classes. Alyonka, my 12-year old daughter, used to come home late at night.
What kind of misfortune entered my home? When did I miss its breathing?
And this a universal breath due to the wave of guru Rubin’s hand. This is a single inhale and a single exhale…
Directing my stream of light, I immersed totally in that alien space, from which it was only possible to scoop up handfuls of shimmering water, losing my own kingdom and feeling no trouble. I was choking in the alien air. I was even watching my heartbeat as it seemed to me that my heart would stop in the darkness.
And the darkness that swallowed the sunshine personified our collapsing world devoid of love.
It flooded not only my soul…
I didn’t say anything to anyone. I just gathered money, booked a ticket and took a train. I had read somewhere they people are not admitted to a monastery if they have no money.
I didn’t sleep the whole night. I thought that I was the worst and the lowest creature on the train. It seemed to me that I was rolling helplessly into a hole I would never be able to get out of. And I didn’t stop crying.
I had left a note to my husband, “Oleg, I will never be back. I am much worse than you though me to be. I am falling into a bottomless hole. I am sorry. Go to a forest and spend the whole day there.”
I was walking along the station like in a dream. Desperation was choking me.
“All these people around me are hurrying somewhere, not knowing the goal. There have grimaces on their faces, and all of dream about money. No one needs anybody. I also longed for money, an I got it. And still I failed to rescue Lyuba. I failed to escape from the sect. To snatch my husband out of it. He will always listen to nobody else but his guru. And the children… They also don’t care about me. My son left me… They also need money. I do not even need myself… Once I had some desires. And now, even food doesn’t attract me. Not wine. I remember being so fond of it. It won’t save me any longer. And all the people being friends and brothers in the marketplace, that’s just bullshit. All they want is to have sex with me. And then they will make fun of me. Everyone including Sa’id and Khalim. You think you are a princess. Come one, princess, your market price is just a kopeck. You are no one but a speculator…”
I kept walking along the platform, unable to think of something nice. Then I went out to the street.
It seemed to me that I was going crazy. I wasn’t even strong enough to find an acting. I needed human assistance, but I was afraid of humans. I didn’t trust them.
I wandered into a cafe. Bought a roll with cheese. Sat down at a table. Picked out the cheese with my finger and began eating. The barman looked at me with pity. I asked him defiantly why he was looking at me like that. He turned away and started placing the bottles on display. Something was definitely wrong with me.
The flow of people rushing at me in the street was incredibly scary. I tried to fight it. I noticed the sign, “Flowers”. I rushed there, the flowers would help me. There were many of them. A middle-aged stout blonde stood up to meet me.
‘What can I do for you? Would you like to buy anything?’
‘No’, it was the first time that I asked someone for help. ‘Let me simply stay here for a few minutes. I am not feeling well. I will simply look at the flowers… and go away.’
‘Are you crazy? Not feeling well? This is not a church!’
And the woman pushed me out.
“She said something about church”, I clung to that thought as if it were a life-saving straw. And went to a church. It was close to Paveletsky Station.
The church was dusky. The faces of the saints were looking at me reproachfully.
I had left my husband. I had married a young man. My son had left me. I was whore and behaved as if I were not a mother of two children. I dressed like a slut to go to the marketplace.
I bought a lot of candles and prayed, prayed, prayed. I knelt before an icon. There were someone’s feet in slippers near me. The slippers were old. A stout, rosy-cheeked clergyman came out. He was young, his cheeks glistened. It seemed that he had just had enough of fat. And that was during the Great Lent.
The church didn’t save me. Nothing could, though. I denied myself, I sentenced myself to death. But I was a part of the Universe. It was knocking me down, threatening to crush me to death or deprive me of reason if I did not stop the thoughts damaging everything in the world.
I went out of the church. My consciousness began manifesting itself in tufts. There was darkness between those tufts.
Here I am sitting in the grass by a fence, don’t know why. I am going over a pile of broken glass, choosing, the way I did when I was a child, the most beautiful stones. And the remnants of my mind prompted me: that’s it. They can take me to a psychiatric hospital at any time. I will never get out of it.
Then I prayed to Heaven, “Lord, please help me! I am quite exhausted”
And the Heaven responded. It rescued me in a very special way. Someone’s hands grabbed me and helped me up. I was brought to the train station and found myself near phone booths. “I must call home”, I guessed. I was still too weak to buy a calling card, though. But I was already able to ask for help.
The one I addressed was a big young guy. He was bald and had a deep scar on his forehead. “Are you in trouble?” he asked me. I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say.
I gave him money quietly, and he dial the number. There was nobody in though. Buzzing… The guy left.
Further events went on like this. I was approached by a very well-dressed white-haired man. He had a large gold ring on his finger. He turned to me with a request. His slight accent betrayed a foreigner in that man.
“Excuse me, could I please borrow your calling card? I have been robbed on the train, all my money and documents have been stolen, I need to call my friends.”
I had no calling card. The bald-headed guy had paid cash to make a call for me.
‘Where do I buy a calling card? I asked.
The stranger pointed somewhere with his hand, picked up my bag, and we went.
There was a line at the booking office. I queued up. I wanted to help that man, the more so that he had arrived from far away.
But some vague images were wandering among the people, whispering words. I didn’t hear them though. Tears were rolling down my face the whole day. Why didn’t the foreigner ask me about the guy who had been with me? Why did he ask me for help if it was obvious that I needed it myself?
I turned around. The foreigner was gone. My bag with all my money and documents was gone, too. I won’t be admitted to the monastery, and I won’t be able to get back home. Serves me right!
But, unexpectedly, that incident began gradually bringing me back to life. For example, I felt sorry for the money. And that first human feeling lightened my mind. The desire to get my bag back replaced the unrestrained grief. However, running after the man or going to the police station seemed quite useless.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, intuition came to back to me. I remembered that when I was going to the booking office with the this “foreigner”, I saw the guy with a scar on his forehead. And he looked at me in an odd way… What was there in that look? And then he looked at the grey-haired man… A kind of annoyance flashed in his look…
I started looking for the bald-headed guy. It didn’t take me long. He was at the same place, near the phones. I pulled his sleeve hesitantly. He looked at me, surprised. I didn’t know what to say.
‘He has stolen my bag and money’, I said in a very low voice (as if he knew who I was talking about). ‘I understand that very well… I was a thief myself… But… You see that I am sick, don’t you?.. It’s easy to fool such a person… That’s a big sin. Something awful can happen to you…’
‘And why did you o to buy a card for him?’, the bald-headed guy roared.
It seemed to me that he wanted to stifle my whisper at any cost.
‘He had no money.’
‘Come on! He had no money, right? You are a fool! Don’t you know where you are? This is Moscow! You are in Moscow! Are you a complete fool?’
‘Yes’, I agreed firmly, ‘I am a complete fool.’
The bald one stopped yelling at me at once. He was looking at me and thinking. I was also looking at him without saying a word.
I have no idea how much time passed.
‘Stay here’, the bald one said.
I nodded obediently. The guy disappeared and came back soon. Or maybe I just lost track of time. The bald-headed guy had my bag in his hand.
‘Take it’, he said. ‘And go back home. Don’t hang around Moscow. Moscow doesn’t trust tears.’
I went. I even forgot to thank him. God’s light was coming back to me. I called home.
‘Mom, what’s the matter?’, my 12-year old daughter asked me severely. ‘Thank me for tearing your note. We all love you very much. Vova is back. He is back forever. I have cooked soup. Come back quickly.’
I hanged up happily. I felt awfully hungry. Where is the café here? On the 2nd floor, I guess. It’s great that you can get to the second floor by escalator, just like in the subway!
There was a huge TV on the second floor. A show with Nikita Mikhalkov was on. Actually, I never watched television as I want to have my own opinion about the world. The only things I know about this country is that we have president Yeltsin and the great film director Nikita Mikhalkov. That’s quite enough for me.
Nikita Mikhalkov was saying that his dream was to make a good movie about Russia.
Suddenly, I wanted to write a book. About the marketplace, the sect and love. I wanted Nikita Mikhalkov to make a movie based on the book. I would star in it. I believed immediately that it was possible. Then I went home. Great accomplishments expected me. I was supposed to get Oleg back from the darkness…
“Now, something important, Valery Petrovich. I suddenly remembered that Larisa Petrovna had a cassette at home. It was a recording of sea waves and a deafening cry of seagulls. How I could I forget about it?..”
I got back…
I got back and went to the forest. Knelt before a birch-tree. Embraced its powerful trunk with my arms and prayed, with great hope,
‘Please tell me, birch-tree, what are the dreams I got entangled in! Let me know in what wilds I lost my way! Where is the way to the road? Where is the truth?’
The birch-tree responded, rustling,
‘You, humans, are so funny! We, nature’s children, never stop being amazed looking at you! You are stuck to the word “people” and forgot your true origin. You don’t remember yourselves!
You are our brothers and sisters, we have the same parents, our Heavenly Father, and we leave this world in the same way, going back to our mother, the Earth.
And you, Women, who and when deprived you of the superhuman strength similar to that of a volcano? What religions, what restrictions of the consciousness blocked the fiery flow of the really divine sexual avalanche? What are the devilish forces whom you dared to hand out that divine gift in dribs and drabs, just dispel it in the space in vain? Even the great Motherly Instinct has never come to help you! You are just criminals! Thousands of years of pseudo-Christianity and its sects have covered your Souls tightly like a gravestone.
That is why all of you, without exception, suffer all kinds of women’s diseases: you forgot the Great Feminine Nature and Great Feminine Joys!
Make Love with your beloved ones, then you will know how to kiss your children in the morning!
Instead of directing all of your Great Power to the blooming of the Earth, you keep wasting it on all kinds of chaotic things, your fears and doubts, monstrous self-torturing and self-destruction!
You have absolved yourselves of the Great Responsibility given to you by Heaven!
Trust at least one truth.
If you, women of the whole world, agree on thinking of the same thing at the same moment of the Earth’s time, the Earths would be covered with flowers! And Your Children would live in those flowers!
Look at me, the birch-tree. Look how beautiful I am, how pleasing my light is for everyone! That’s my Great Mission! I never forget about it! I throw my whole power up to the sun!
And when the trees growing next to me try to obscure the light of day from me with their branches, I fight tooth and nail! And I don’t waste my strength to think that this is bad!
I eagerly shoot my roots to the very bowels of my earth and draw my force from there. And then I throw my refreshed juice up to the sun, sweeping off my path everyone who prevents me from enjoying its light! I should be happy! I, unlike you, funny people, give myself permission to be happy!
Come to me more often, humans. And I will keep telling you my story.
Until you wake up from the dense sleep and get rid of the evil spells.
Until you get your Divine Souls back.
Until you fall in love with your amazing sexuality, which works miracles and raising from the dead! It is a divine gift, the most wonderful wonder! Its power makes all dreams true, even those that seem unlikely.
Until you shake all the “great teachers’” clods of dirt off your snow-white wings and fly up to the sun! And then it will rejoice and shine even brighter!
Wake up at last, you ever-sleeping humans!’
The birch-tree was sharing her power with me…
The birch-tree was sharing her power with me. I was caressing her cool cheeks…
An ant was crawling along the smooth white bark.
“I wonder if the ant also feels this world, although in his own way. For example, I seem a huge monster to him. I, also an imperfect creature, see the world in differently. But the world remains the same despite all the different perceptions. How does it look in the eyes of the gods who created it?”
Suddenly, the flow of my thoughts was interrupted by a biting slap in the face. I looked around anxiously. No one… But I saw in front of me… the top of birch and the branch that had slapped me in the face. I had seen that branch before, lying on the ground. I had admired its winding bend at the trunk…
So what is it? I was afraid of looking down, but I did, anyway. Far down, covered with white daisies, was… the ground…
Maybe I am dead? Can it be that I died and just vanished into thin sunny air without noticing that?
Despite the terror that gripped me, I did see with the corner of my eye, my warm, absolutely live shoulder. My heart was beating loudly in my chest. I’m alive!
And I flew up to the sky! But I can’t fly! I can only walk! I am going to fall down on the ground and die!
I made a cautious little step, which stretched over three meters. Subordinating to someone else’s will, I flew… no, it was something different… I walked through the air in huge, enormous steps. My body was both weightless and full of giant, extraterrestrial force. I went crazy with happiness granted to me by the gods…
And already lying on the ground, holding her with all my limbs, pressing my grateful cheek to her cool body, I thought, “That’s how it is through the eyes of the gods who created this world… They, obviously amused, showed me just a small part of their creation. It is impossible to imagine how beautiful it really is!”
Oleg and I were going along Moscow street…
…Oleg and I were driving along Moscow streets, our car full of foodstuff bought for Alexander Vasilyevich according to a long “what to do” list. In the core of the city, we got in a traffic jam and had to stand there for a long time.
I was saying something, and my words were falling like small dry drops into the hopelessly dry leaves, which only a miracle could save!
I was looking at my husband but I failed to recognize him. The world he was in was dark in the sunniest day! And there was no space there at all for me!
He was thinking about the upcoming meeting with Alexander Vasilyevich, and then the talk with guru Rubin, who had invited him personally. I knew for sure that fighting guru Rubin was useless. He had completely captured Oleg’s soul. My husband became furious when I cautiously tried to discuss that with him.
I knew that I could lose my husband for ever after that meeting.
He was offered a job in Moscow as the Master’s first assistant. It was a great honor, which nobody was supposed to reject. Oleg felt quite proud.
On the other hand, why was it my husband who had that “great honor”?
Our departments offered a careful selection of oriental goods and brought good money. They were so colorful that people came to the stores as if they were museums. Many tried to make something like that and came with cameras and camcorders. They also found and brought the same stuff, but, for some reason, those attempts didn’t work out. The competitors’ showcases soon withered like paper decorations after rain… It was due to a quite elusive presence of some magical forces…
On behalf of guru Rubin, Alexander Vasilyevich suggested that Oleg and I should create a chain of our stores in Moscow.
‘You see’, he said, quite convincingly, you will find it very profitable. A small river becomes Big when it flows into the Ocean. Our school is patronized by great gods. If you help us, you will be incredibly rich…
I knew for certain what he had in mind. The stores opened in Moscow with our money raised by our hard work, in fact, will be owned by the Academy of Yoga. Oleg and I will be solemnly rewarded crosses with scarlet ribbons and told that all the gods of the universe are excited. Alexander Vasilyevich will have another foreign car and another, third floor in his Moscow house…
I wanted to ask him why the Academy of Yoga, which is so important for the universe, stays in such misery, without any material bases after the 40 years of its existence.
Why is it that any entrepreneur who decides to help the Academy goes bankrupt instantly as if by a wave of a wand? Why are they left with nothing else but the last pair of pants and numerous medals on colored ribbons, which are the proof of the “high god’s free status” and which “will provide you with a lot of support out there, in the world of eternity?”
I sat in the car, thinking sadly…
That doctrine was created by the Demon of self-affirmation.
And these new and new flows of information promising wonders of resurrection of the dead and everlasting youth are carried by the Demon to his nest, to his nestlings, who accept the darkness obediently, their beaks opened in a joyous intoxication. To those irrevocably crippled holes in the Universe, longing for new and new food, fatal to the soul…
To the soul dying in this world as well as in that one…
