, they even had red bands on their sleeves. One of them, apparently taking me for minor party member coming for some routine, declared resolutely but softly that “no reception today by
Ts-Ka”, and I should better call by phone tomorrow.
Ts-Ka was for Central Committee of Communist Party, and that was obvious for everybody coming here. I was born and raised under very hard Communist regime in this country where only one party was legal for seventy years, that’s why this softly spoken
Ts-Ka had effect of electricity on me. The only thing that still ringed funny for me, this once mighty and inaccessible party organ now inhabited such a shabby place and received members and guests so simply. Times have changed, indeed.
In short, I told these two that somebody named Fomin asked me to come here immediately, and then one of them dashed back into the rooms, and in a half a minute returned with middle-aged slender man. The man had a short haircut, dressed in a dark expensive suit and white shirt with a tie. Silently and grimly as it’s suitable only at funeral, he shook my hand and with a jest invited to follow him.
We walked through the room that served as an office; it was quite large, with heaps of papers and rather old office equipment on the tables. It was empty and quiet as it happens in the places with a dead body lying somewhere. But next room was all different. It seemed as if in a moment I traveled thirty years back to glorious days of Communist Russian Empire. There stood huge, three yards high plaster bust of founder of that Empire Vladimir Lenin, sacred person for Communists of the whole world. On the wall behind it were gloriously spread two large flags, with golden profiles of this Communist saint glittering on its heavy dark-blood colored velvet.
Thirty years ago that kind of plaster busts of this great leader stood in the ceremonial halls of all country’s organizations. All these establishments – factories, laboratories, shops, and everything, – belonged to the government, and therefore the busts were everywhere. On frequent memorable days these halls and busts were decorated with flowers and with more flags; the passionate speeches were heard here, solemn oaths were given in front of these white busts. Those were official institutional sanctuaries. In the schools in front of the these busts of great Lenin young children were accepted to