شنبه، فروردین ۰۷، ۱۳۸۹

Slava

When I arrived at the Hotel Windsor in Paris, it just happened that David Oistrakh was there at the same time. David said to me: "Slava, let's take a stroll."
As we walked through the streets, he made a confession of sorts. He said to me: "Slava, I have the highest regard for your purity, for your daring and for everything you do. I'm ready to get down to my knees in front of you. But tomorrow if you read a letter full of accusations about you in 'Pravda', and it's signed by me, don't condemn me. Find the strength to forgive me. I'm going to tell you a story about something that happened to me, after which I was no longer really a human being. I was thrown off balance, I'm a man with a huge complex.
It happened in 1937 or 1936. My wife Tamara and I were living in a building where all men were arrested, except in one of the apartments that was across from ours, on the floor above or below, whatever, but across from mine. There was just one other apartment where they had not taken away the head of the family.
My wife Tamara had packed a little bag with clothes and biscuits. We didn't sleep for months. we were waiting for them to come and take us away. The arrests usually took place around four or five in the morning. One night at four in the morning we heard someone banging on the front door of the building. Tamara and I were in bed. Of course the knocking gave us a frightful start. A few seconds, perhaps one, perhaps two minutes, seemed to me like an eternity. We were waiting for them to come upstairs, and wondering whose bell they'd ring, ours, or that of the only other apartment where a head of the family was still left. They rang the bell of the other apartment."
That's the key for understanding what the Soviet regime did to people. This system forced them to be two-faced. Think one thing and say another.

‍~ Mstislav Rostropovich - Form the documentary film "David Oistrakh: Artist of the People?"

امروز، بیست و هفتم ماه مارس، زادروز جناب روستروپویچ است که سه سال پیش بدرود زندگانی گفت. خیال داشتم به همین مناسبت یادداشت مفصلی دربارهٔ زندگی و هنر این مرد بزرگ بنویسم که متأسفانه ممکن نشد. همین قدر که در بالا درباره‌ٔ او و اویستراخ آمد را داشته‌باشید و این قطعهٔ کوتاه را هم به عنوان گوشه‌ای طرب‌انگیز از هنرش ببینید تا (به امید خدا) در فرصتی دیگر درباره‌اش بنویسم.


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