Writer Alexander Prokhanov is about the three meetings of the past year
Photo: TASS/IDR/Alexander Korolkov
Last year ended in a hard, grim. The murder of the Ambassador, the plane crash with singers and with the incomparable Dr. Lisa. The weight is not left in the past year. It is not drowned out by crackling firecrackers, not overshadowed radiant colored balls, and crystal star. We went with this sorrow, with hearts full of anxious forebodings, in the new year. Russia will have to live on, stoically wading through all adversity. Through all the disaster and dragon’s teeth to move to the inevitable Russian victory.
Last year I was not inspired by the Kremlin speech festivals and festivities. I was inspired by three characters, which wouldn’t let me lose heart, lifted me, saved from despair.
In the summer I was in Orenburg. After all the speeches and performances, after the visits and official meetings, I ran into the Orenburg steppe and woods, where for hundreds of kilometers from Orenburg to simple village in a rural cemetery buried the dead in Syria, abenavoli Alexander Prokhorenko. I didn’t know him personally, but his death struck me. She was one of those first few that we paid for the Syrian campaign. And I, filled with sorrow, rushed to the steppe the tomb to worship, to gain as gain from the altars of light and prayer of resurrection.
I arrived in the village, did not enter the house where he was born Alexander Prokhorenko and where his elderly parents, and immediately drove past the fences, vegetable gardens, modest homes in the village cemetery and saw a huge mountain of flowers — a mound, sprinkled of roses, carnations, white lilies. The flowers were not wilted, not from the days of the funeral, and fresh, recent. This tomb continued to hold the people mourned the hero, laid flowers in their gratitude, admiration and sadness. Among the flowers stood a marble plaque on her brother was the inscription: “We remember you, Sasha”.
I bowed to the grave. From it came a mysterious light, the sublime grace that surrounded me, lifted, had atoned for my imperfections and weaknesses. And I, full of light, left the cemetery like they were in Church Liturgy.
The second meeting is extraordinary: in the Urals, in Nizhny Tagil, in the city where they make the tanks, which until recently I was watching the Assembly line go formidable fighting machine. And then, squeezed into the hatch of the T-90M, I ran around the tank, and heavy machine the square dance, jump ditches, and, it seemed, walking in a squatting delete Grozny dance. But now in this city, I met not with the tank builders, not soldiers. It was an amazing person — Vladislav Tetyukhin. He was already under eighty. Soviet engineer, scientist, laureate of the Lenin prize, in Soviet times, he created in the Ural titanium production, learned how to produce Titan, its pouring, processing, welding. This lightweight heavy-duty metal nozzle built rockets, flaps high-speed aircraft, elements of submarines.
When collapsed, the Soviet Union and with it perished the great Soviet industry, Tetyukhin together with friends not allowed to die of titanium production. Not allowed on the company of crooks and thieves, privatized it, getting a third of the shares and continued to develop and improve production. Today titanium rocket “Angara”, the elements heavy duty boat “Borey”, the wings of the fighter of the fifth generation. Even titanium prostheses for joints, which wore out the people in their works. This illness overtakes thousands of our citizens. People suffer, lose the ability to walk or move my arms. In the hope to recover to go abroad, where in European clinics, they make the operations insert artificial titanium joints.
Tetyukhin sold a third of its shares in titanium production and with the millions of dollars built in Nizhny Tagil incomparable medical center — state of the art, the likes of which neither in Switzerland nor in Germany. The stunning beauty and grace of the body, the unique operating chamber, in which everything shines with comfort. The best doctors are in this amazing clinic. Patients from the Urals and from the neighbouring regions and republics here find your healing. And all this Tetyukhin made unselfishly, from the heart, returned to the people belonging to that money that was once used, increased, committed an act of great mercy, followed by the gospel’s commandment: “Give to his possessions”. He, the Soviet people, Lenin’s laureate, atheist, Christian has made the greatest feat in a time when money is the idol, when people worship the Golden calf, when greed, avarice, selfishness, inability to share with neighbors have become the almost universal norm. He destroyed this vile rule. Crushed the Golden calf. Today showed the Russian people that the person continue to live a higher purpose, immutable, bequeathed to us the dream of justice and love.
And the third was the meeting with Governor of Bryansk region Alexander Bogomaz. Briansk, dead, godforsaken, desolate, scorched by Chernobyl, plundered by the thieving leaders. Here came the Governor of the people from the earth, from the plow, from the deep rural area, where the sandy loam and loam it and even some men, miracle workers has created farms and harvested 100 quintals of wheat per hectare. The fabulous harvests which in Europe is not all on the shoulder. They created farms where they used the latest technology, new ways of work, new equipment, machinery, fertilizer, a new science of agriculture for the cultivation of plants. And this day and newly meaningful work has led to remarkable results.
The exploits of these three people — military, moral, labour — delicious all by themselves. They constitute the collective feat of the people who inspire the Russian people, they say that Russian people — the people-the giant that temporary stagnation ends, ended, sleep, occurring after 1991. What we have been imputed to us courage, selflessness, unprecedented work ethic and the desire to heaven that the Russian dream remains for us the most important value in life. All of these people are people of Russian dream. Touching it inspired me to not let the sorrows and woes to get the better of me, leading me into the new year for the Russian guiding dream.
The opinion of the author may not coincide with the position of the editorial Board