After The War

Part I: Grandmother

My father passed away when my Maman was pregnant with my brother. I was about eight at that time. Our house had to be sold away, and then it was decided that we would have to live with Grandmother in Vladirod. It was obvious that none of us were pleased about it, but there was no other alternative.

It had always seemed to me that she favoured her grandsons more, but that might only be prejudice and jealousy on my part. Being the eldest, I had to help my mother with the household duties. My sisters too helped set the table and clear away after supper, while my brothers spent the whole day frolicking in the garden with the other boys of the neighborhood. On Sundays, we'd accompany Grandma to the Church.

As for her, she always sat besides the fire, rocking away on her chair, eyes half-closed, while her lips moved in silent prayer...

What irked me the most was that she thought that her role in this house was indispensable. Her very presence was crucial to the proper functioning of the house, so she thought. I never argued with her regarding this. On this matter, I let her flatter herself.

I think I often felt sorry for her. She didn't have, as far as I know, a very happy childhood and was married off at a very young age.

Much to her chagrin, she never found much time to educate herself. When we children would be heading to school, she would stand in the doorway and look at us with tearful eyes. Then she'd wave to us and shout, "Take care boys, take care of your sisters."

It has been her one regret that she never had the opportunity to go to school. Back in her days, it was a privilege meant only for the rich aristocrats, not young girls from poor families. That is why I often found her saying, "I wasn't so lucky to get an education, that's why I always ensured that my children did."

She, however, was quite a modern woman for her times. She knew how to read and write in Russian as well as English. Besides, she was also an eager philatelist. She had in her collection various stamps from across the world. I remember I was much fascinated to see her collection of old coins and round, smooth pebbles when I was little.

I also remember that when I was young, I'd always ask her to narrate to me the story of Vasilisa, the Beautiful, and her wooden talisman doll. I don't know why I have that story inscribed in my memory, but I used to love it. It was wonderful how she never complained, no matter how many times I asked her to repeat it!
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I remember it was a still and cool morning, when the fragnance of May lingered in the air. One could feel the life of spring was unfolding- mysterious, lovely, rich and holy beyond the understanding of sinful mortals...

And it was then, that suddenly, the sky crashed over my head, and black clouds began to swirl around...

"Katya and Anya are grown-ups now. It is time for them to venture out into the wide world and try for their careers", she said.

"Go where?", asked my mother.

"Moscow", she replied.

My mother was hesitant. It was an idea absurd, and unheard of. But she didn't dare argue with her, she was too terrified.

"These are modern times. Girls must go and study and make a place for themselves in this world. They are not very bright girls, but they can't stay here forever. Ptitsy dolzhny odnazhdy pokinut' svoye gnezdo!", she continued.

(Translation: The birds must one day leave their nest)​

My mother nodded her head.

I didn't say anything. Anya squeezed my arm really tight, but I only sighed.

Leave my village, my home, my mother? And go where? Moscow! Abandon my whole world, to go to Moscow?!

I realised that never did I hate her more. I hated her with all my heart, with a fiery passion...

I remember the night when we were getting ready for bed, when Anya came to me and whispered in my ear, "They are making arrangements. They're sending us away, perhaps forever! Oh Katya! Our lives will never be the same again."

She was right.