Chapter
13.2
The
stranger narrates his story to Ivan, which is not like any other common story.
He
says that after graduating in history, he worked for two years in a museum.
There he was given a lottery ticket, and this lottery ticket won for him a
prize of 100,000 roubles. It was a big amount and the first thing he did was to
leave the job at the museum, leave his pigeon-hole like room on the
Myasnitskayaa Street and rented a house in Arbat.
This
was a cozy and beautiful house, a front room with a basin; a small room with
window in the garden and a big hall. There was always fire in the stove; there
was warmth in the house.
He
bought many many books and started writing this novel about Pontius Pilate and
Yeshua-Ha-Nostri…(the same which begins with Pilate entering the balcony of
Hirod’s palace in a white cloak with blood red lining…). The novel was moving fast,
Pilate was moving towards the end…the winter had receded; came spring and the
linden and lily wore green attire.
The
writer (he does not disclose his name in the novel) has abandoned his name and
surname like all other things in life….now he is only MASTER and the identifying
feature of his persona is the black cap with a yellow ‘M’ embroidered on it by
HER. This name – MASTER – too was given to him by her.
HER
name is also not mentioned in this chapter. Master met her during one of his
evening walks on Tverskaya. This was an event more important for him than
winning 100,000 roubles in lottery.
She
was carrying yellow flowers in her hands. Master disliked this colour, but still
started walking along with her on the other side of the road. Suddenly she
turned into a lane and looked at him.
He
started following her. Suddenly she stopped and asked him whether he liked her
flowers. He answered in the negative and she threw them into the canal. They were
walking silently, she held his hand into hers and they kept walking…reached the
Kremlin Wall on the river side, promised to meet next day and parted.
Soon
she became his secret wife. But Master was sure that nobody did come to know
anything about her.
She
was married; he too had left his wife…
She
would come daily to his house, would prepare breakfast; would clean dust off piles
of his books; would read pages written by him and comment that this novel is
very precious to her. In her free time she would embroider this cap for him.
The
novel was complete. It was typed and he came out of his cozy abode to give it to a publisher and that was
the end of his happiness!
Bulgakov
draws a very ugly picture of the publishing world.
The
publishers would ask him about his early experience, about his family and
finally would enquire who on earth inspired him to write on such a forbidden topic.
They
would not say openly that the novel can’t be published; but would ask him to
come again and again under some pretext or other. Finally he was informed that
the publishing house has material enough for the next two years and they can’t
take it up.
Some
other publisher published a big extract of the novel and there was furor and
scandal in the literary world which finally destroyed the MASTER.
This
is how it happened…
कोई टिप्पणी नहीं:
एक टिप्पणी भेजें
टिप्पणी: केवल इस ब्लॉग का सदस्य टिप्पणी भेज सकता है.