Chapter 4
The Chase
- A. Charumati Ramdas
We can say that Chapter 4 indicates
the beginning of action in Moscow.
As soon as Bezdomnyi heard the first
screams, he rushed towards the exit and saw Berlioz’s severed head rolling
along the fencing of Patriarchy Park.
He was so stunned that he collapsed
on a nearby bench and could not move. When the screams stopped he noticed that two women
unexpectedly ran into each other near him, and
one of them, sharp-nosed and bare-headed, shouted the following to the other,
right next to the poet's ear:
'...Annushka,
our Annushka! From Sadovaya! It's her work... She bought sunflower oil at the grocery,
and went and broke the whole litre-bottle on the turnstile! Messed her skirt
all up, and swore and swore!
... And he,
poor man, must have slipped and - right on to the rails...'
The bells start ringing in
Bezdomnyi’s mind! Annushka! Sunflower oil! The meeting! Pontius Pilate! The
Professor!
Of all that
the woman shouted, one word lodged itself in Ivan Nikolaevich's upset brain:
'Annushka'...
'Annushka...
Annushka?' the poet muttered, looking around anxiously.
Wait a
minute, wait a minute...'
The word
'Annushka' got strung together with the words 'sunflower oil', and then for
some reason with 'Pontius Pilate'. The poet dismissed Pilate and began linking
up the chain that started from the word `Annushka'. And this chain got very
quickly linked up and led at once to the mad professor.
Ivan Bezdomnyi jumped to the
conclusion that Professor knew about Berlioz’s death….maybe he himself had
plotted the accident!!??
`Excuse me!
But he did say the meeting wouldn't take place because Annushka had spilled the
oil. And, if you please, it won't take place! What's more, he said straight out
that Berlioz's head would be cut off by a woman?! Yes, yes, yes! And the driver
was a woman! What is all this, eh?!'
There was not
a grain of doubt left that the mysterious consultant had known beforehand the exact
picture of the terrible death of Berlioz. Here two thoughts pierced the poet's
brain. The first:
'He's not mad
in the least, that's all nonsense!' And the second: Then didn't he set it all
up himself?'
'But in what
manner, may we ask?! Ah, no, this we're going to find out!' “
He comes back to the bench where he was
sitting with the Professor a little while ago and sees that the same tall, thin
person in a checkered shirt was sitting near the Professor. He was wearing specs
with one glass!
The
ex-choirmaster was sitting in the very place where Ivan Nikolaevich had sat
just recently.
Now the
busybody had perched on his nose an obviously unnecessary pince-nez, in which
one lens was missing altogether and the other was cracked. This made the
checkered citizen even more repulsive than he had been when he showed Berlioz
the way to the rails.
With a chill
in his heart, Ivan approached the professor and, glancing into his face, became
convinced that there were not and never had been any signs of madness in that
face.
'Confess, who
are you?' Ivan asked in a hollow voice.
The foreigner
scowled, looked at the poet as if he were seeing him for the first time, and answered
inimically:
'No
understand ... no speak Russian. ..'
The gent
don't understand,' the choirmaster mixed in from the bench, though no one had asked
him to explain the foreigner's words.
'Don't
pretend!' Ivan said threateningly, and felt cold in the pit of his stomach.
'You spoke excellent Russian just now. You're not a German and you're not a
professor! You're a murderer and a spy!... Your papers!' Ivan cried fiercely.
The
mysterious professor squeamishly twisted his mouth, which was twisted to begin
with, then shrugged his shoulders.
'Citizen!'
the loathsome choirmaster butted in again. "What're you doing bothering a
foreign tourist? For that you'll incur severe punishment!'
And the
suspicious professor made an arrogant face, turned, and walked away from Ivan.
Ivan felt himself at a loss. Breathless, he addressed the choirmaster:
'Hey,
citizen, help me to detain the criminal! It's your duty!'
The
choirmaster became extraordinarily animated, jumped up and hollered:
`What
criminal? Where is he? A foreign criminal?' The choirmaster's eyes sparkled
gleefully.
That one? If
he's a criminal, the first thing to do is shout "Help!" Or else he'll
get away. Come on, together now, one, two!' -- and here the choirmaster opened
his maw.
Totally at a loss,
Ivan obeyed the trickster and shouted 'Help!' but the choirmaster bluffed him and
did not shout anything.
Ivan's
solitary, hoarse cry did not produce any good results. Two girls shied away
from him, and he heard the word 'drunk'.
'Ah, so
you're in with him!' Ivan cried out, waxing wroth. "What are you doing,
jeering at me? Out of my way!'
Ivan dashed
to the right, and so did the choirmaster; Ivan dashed to the left, and the scoundrel
did the same.
`Getting
under my feet on purpose?' Ivan cried, turning ferocious.
'I'll hand
you over to the police!'
Ivan
attempted to grab the blackguard by the sleeve, but missed and caught precisely
nothing:
It was as if
the choirmaster fell through the earth.
Ivan gasped,
looked into the distance, and saw the hateful stranger. He was already at the
exit to Patriarch's Lane; moreover, he was not alone. The more than dubious
choirmaster had managed to join him. But that was still not all: the third in
this company proved to be a tom-cat, who appeared out of nowhere, huge as a
hog, black as soot or as a rook, and with a desperate cavalryman's whiskers.
The trio set off down Patriarch's Lane, the cat walking on his hind legs.
Ivan sped
after the villains and became convinced at once that it would be very difficult
to catch up with them.
Let us go to the ‘chase’…..
Ivan is following the troika….the
Professor, the Big, giant cat and the tall, thin man.
The trio shot
down the lane in an instant and came out on Spiridonovka. No matter how Ivan quickened
his pace, the distance between him and his quarry never diminished. And before
the poet knew it, he emerged, after the quiet of Spiridonovka, by the Nikitsky
Gate, where his situation worsened. The place was swarming with people.
Besides, the gang of villains decided to apply the favourite trick of bandits
here: a scattered getaway.
The
choirmaster, with great dexterity, bored his way on to a bus speeding towards
the Arbat Square and slipped away. Having lost one of his quarries, Ivan
focused his attention on the cat and saw this strange cat go up to the
footboard of an 'A' tram waiting at a stop, brazenly elbow aside a woman, who
screamed, grab hold of the handrail, and even make an attempt to shove a
ten-kopeck piece into the conductress's hand through the window, open on account
of the stuffiness.
Ivan was so
struck by the cat's behaviour that he froze motionless by the grocery store on
the corner, and here he was struck for a second time, but much more strongly,
by the conductress's behaviour. As soon as she saw the cat getting into the
tram-car, she shouted with a malice that even made her shake:
'No cats
allowed! Nobody with cats allowed! Scat! Get off, or I'll call the police!'
Pay attention to the small details…
The cat is paying money to the tram-conductor;
she only says that the cats are not allowed inside the trams, but
nobody…nobody, pays attention to the fact that the CAT was PAYING money to the
conductor!
While following the professor Ivan
somehow decides that he is in Building No 13, Flat No.47. This was one such
building which earlier belonged to the noble class and is now converted into a
community building. The destruction that has taken place inside the building,
the dust and dirt, the common kitchen with a paper icon of the Christ and a
candle…the woman bathing who mistook Ivan as her lover and she asks him to go
back as her husband is expected any moment…the similar orange shaded lamps seen
from ALL windows, the same music, a loud screaming voice singing a love song
from Evgenyi Onegin (this loud, angry voice is depicted many times! This was a
famous Russian poet of Revolution…)….you get a glimpse of the Moscow of 20’s!
Then happens an interesting thing.
Ivan comes to Moscow River and
decides that the Professor is at the river. He decides to look for him in the
river:
Having taken
off his clothes, Ivan entrusted them to a pleasant, bearded fellow who was smoking
a hand-rolled cigarette, sitting beside a torn white Tolstoy blouse and a pair
of unlaced, worn boots. After waving his arms to cool off, Ivan dived
swallow-fashion into the water.
It took his
breath away, so cold the water was, and the thought even flashed in him that he
might not manage to come up to the surface. However, he did manage to come up,
and, puffing and snorting, his eyes rounded in terror, Ivan Nikolaevich began
swimming through the black, oil-smelling water among the broken zigzags of
street lights on the bank.
When the wet
Ivan came dancing back up the steps to the place where the bearded fellow was guarding
his clothes, it became clear that not only the latter, but also the former -
that is, the bearded fellow himself - had been stolen. In the exact spot where
the pile of clothes had been, a pair of striped drawers, the torn Tolstoy
blouse, the candle, the icon and a box of matches had been left. After
threatening someone in the distance with his fist in powerless anger, Ivan put
on what was left for him.
Here two
considerations began to trouble him: first that his Massolit identification
card, which he never parted with, was gone, and, second, whether he could
manage to get through Moscow unhindered looking the way he did now? In striped
drawers, after all ... True, it was nobody's business, but still there might be
some hitch or delay.
Ivan tore off
the buttons where the drawers fastened at the ankle, figuring that this way
they might pass for summer trousers, gathered up the icon, the candle and the
matches, and started off, saying to himself:
'To Griboedov's!
Beyond all doubt, he's there.'
Please note that the water in the
river was very cold, there was oil spilled on the water from the steamers etc.
that were sailing on the river, Ivan’s clothes are stolen, only the candle and
the paper icon of the Christ which he had lifted from the building No 13 was
left on the bank and also the clothes of the peasant whom Ivan had entrusted
his clothes. Ivan had no choice but to put on the short trousers and a loose
shirt, he pinned up the icon on his shirt and held the candle in one hand and
starts for Griboyedov House.
Can we say that this was purification
of Ivan in the water mixed with oil; he adopts the Icon, is he baptized? Some
people might think on these lines, but we shall notice that a gradual change takes
place in Ivan’s outlook, his thinking process. He comes to know many things
which earlier seemed insignificant to him.
The next chapter reveals many things
of the literary life of Moscow.
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