ABU. To Be Who You Are. A. Manvayler
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Название: ABU. To Be Who You Are
Автор: A. Manvayler
Издательство: Издательские решения
Жанр: Современная русская литература
isbn: 9785449634016
isbn:
into the spectators’ eyes.
For a night the organizers got us rooms in a real fancy five-star hotel in a Hospet town from where we were to heading back to Hampi early morning. The organizers made a deal to not close a swimming-pool with fountains and a jacuzzi for us and even to switch on all the illumination as an exception. And we got a chance to swim in the pool, refreshing our tired, dusty sweaty bodies in cool waters under multi coloured rays of light. Here someone got an idea to celebrate this unforgettable day and to have some whiskey before going to sleep, just to chill out a bit at the back of the hotel with a pool view. We all quickly backed this idea up. And that was indeed such a loving evening! We felt so relaxed, had much fun and laughed all the time.
Finally, I’ve had an opportunity to have a good conversation in my mother tongue, to share my stories and to tell about my impressions. I really enjoyed my auditory, they were responsive and getting my sense of humour, we were on the same page. When I was going pretty big, Abu has joined us. And my evening has been finished on that. As soon as he has appeared all focus shifted at him in a flash. And again I was sitting like a doll blinking the eyelashes and couldn’t catch a word. I’ve poured some whiskey, it didn’t make me feel better. Has drunk some more, didn’t help.
Losing all the interest for the party I felt how some kind of self-pity has attacked me and I felt a lump in my throat. And the questions began to arise: “what am I doing here?”, “how will I work in the country without knowing its language?”, “maybe it’s a professional unsuitability?”, “why did I come here?”, “why nobody has listened to me?” I wasn’t used to be on the sidelines. A leader, an actress, an anchor was crying inside me. Wiping my tears with a sleeve, I’ve run away to my room and kept on crying alone. Abu has instantly stolen all attention, and I was just a puppet theatre actress from Russia, with no knowledge of the language, not capable even to get a small talk flowing or to argue.
My roommate Arina has come for me, she tried to pacify me and to bring back. But I really needed to stay alone.
“If you have a bad day, just remember that you can cry. If you need to have a good cry in bed just do it. But don’t forget after that to stand up, pull yourself together and keep on moving forward.” Louise Hay
Someone came in and went out. I didn’t care, I had a good cry and fell in asleep. We all have our own inner battles with the demons and we struggle them with courage. Daily and in our own way. All our efforts big and small deserve praise and applause.
Has it ever happened to you to wake up one morning with a thought that you’ve lost a control over your life and can’t even say what is right and what is wrong? Each one of us has got such days and, believe me, it’s absolutely normal. I’ve discovered, that if to make the decision to change the situation then it’s already a halfway to success. The only thing left is to understand how to do it.
The next morning my eyes have been slits, and I was terrified to meet this new creature in the mirror. It was like an ordinary morning of a Chinese beekeeper. Washing and eyes drops didn’t work out and I was to wear the sunglasses before daybreak. And here went out the ballerina. I’ve left my room like Maya Plisetskaya deceased in Germany in her ninety, and with her words on my lips which has become my morning credo: “All my life I love the new, all my life I look into the future, I always wonder!… Not resign ourselves to the edge is not tolerant. Even then – Fight, fire back in the tube pipes, drums beat… Up to the last moment… My fight win only on that andkeep it up. Character – this is destiny.”
5 – THE NEW LIFE TOGETHER
THERE ARE PEOPLE WITH WHOM WE LOSE TIME. AND THERE ARE THOSE WITH WHOM WE LOSE THE SENSE OF TIME.
“We don’t meet people by accident, they are meant to cross our paths for a reason.” Osho.
I’m absolutely certain, a hundred per cent, that no man appear in woman’s life by chance. Only that man comes to a woman’s life, who matches her internally and externally.
My working tourist season in Goa started as soon as the order from the management came. They said I was to go for my first excursion with tourists the next day, despite the fact that our own tour hadn’t finished yet. The workload was to the eyeballs, weh ad tours non-stop, everyday, sometimes nine days in a row without rest. I was working at my full capacity. Nevertheless, we used to find time for each other. Because, whoever they called the god of love, – Eros, Erotes, Amor or Cupid, had provided the winged boy with a bow and arrows to shoot them when I and Abu first met.
On the other hand, the time spent waiting turned out for us into the catalyst for stimulating our lives for the next meeting. The super intensive work season didn’t let us meet sometimes more often than a couple times a month. We were like two actors from different theatres, who loved each other but were always on tour. But we always comforted ourselves with the thought that any period would come to an end and we both knew when our time would come. We had the rare opportunity to meet on tours in those days when we arrived somewhere together each with his group, let’s say in a restaurant where we brought our tourists for breakfast. Almost all tour routes were drawn up by Abu. Or we met in the tiger reserve where we used to bring our tourists to after elephant rides. After each that very short encounter, we both remembered those moments again and again and took them as the most precious in our lives. Oh, days of innocence, when the world was full of eternal youth, you had already become the mythology of that old time! Sometimes it seems to us, we miss some far away places while in reality, we miss the time we spent there. That’s how time cheats us taking cover behind the mask of space…
Initially, we both were sure that we wouldn’t be able to spend more time together than those rare moments of our tea ceremonies on my balcony between the early pickups for excursions. That time we communicated via our symbolic language of gesture or the “paper with a pencil” language invented by us. In this manner, in addition to all languages of the subcontinent diluted with numerous dialects of other countries, had appeared a new “Abu-Alena language”. With his knowledge of eight languages, Abu was a well-educated Goan and he could afford to speak with me using the ninth one without agonizing about the colonial inferiority complex. India always was affected by influences from abroad. And Nehru, the first prime minister of India, rightly identified that India’s true genius lied within its ability for fusion. Try, however, explaining to a non-Russian, who Snow Maiden is. Or try to understand without knowing English that Jesus Christ’s remains are buried in India, in Kashmir. Our language was a crazy fusion of fun with pantomime, a puppet theatre with ballet and graphics with painting. Such evenings together were well worth living for.
We finally got lucky with a coinciding weekend on St.Valentine’s day. In the evening of 13th Abu invited me to take a ride, to hang СКАЧАТЬ