Marianna. Death of Stalin
When Stalin died, it was a great sorrow for me. For everyone it was a great sorrow, because Stalin meant a lot to us, as a state leader, as the winner in the war. His role was very big. He was a historical person. When he died, this was a great personal grief for many.
There was a memorial meeting at the institute dedicated to the death of Stalin. One speaker from the presidium was reading something monotonously from a piece of paper. Another one was also monotonously reading from a piece of paper. Then they asked if somebody wanted to speak. I did not prepare at all and did not think, but I raised my hand. I went through the hall all the way up and I had not a single word prepared. They all spoke from notes, but I was not thinking of speaking at all. But I went without fear about what I will say. I carried my grief, when I got up, I do not even know what words I found, but the whole room began to sob. Can you imagine? – the whole auditorium was crying. I did not remember a single word what I had said. But when I said it, everybody in the hall was crying. I went down the stairs, I was shaking, I had no tears, but I was shaking.
When the meeting was over, a professor from our department, Grannikov Dmitry Anatolyevich said: you were wrong with the profession, you had to be an actress. I looked at him in surprise, what kind of actress am I? I cannot play. I can only express my personal feelings.
Did you go to the funeral?
After the meeting, everyone went to the funeral, it was not a funeral, we went to see Stalin’s body that was on display in the Hall of Columns in the House of the Union. On March 6, they opened access in the Hall of Columns to the body of Stalin. We were walking with other girls but we got scattered in the crowd. I did not see anything around, I was in sorrow. There was a stream of people along the big street and equally large streams were flowing from perpendicular streets. Somebody shouted in front: comrades, stop, people are squeezed in front! Stop! Only then I realized that I was getting squeezed. I saw a crowd pouring from a perpendicular street into the crowd that was walking along the main street. It is impossible to stop, the crowd was coming from behind. It is impossible to get out anywhere. I was lucky, there were big tall men around me. The person in front of me had a coat with a strap. I grabbed this strap with both hands. At first I was walking with my feet, then I felt that the crowd was carrying me, I tucked my legs. What happened after that I do not know, I lost consciousness. I woke up on a truck, on the floor of the trunk. They waved ammonia in front of me.
Have you been handed over?
Probably, but I do not remember anything, I was unconscious. When I woke up, they asked me if I could get up. I was raised, lowered down from the truck, brought to a bench. They said that a doctor will see me shortly. I looked around, it was such a horror, there were people lying on benches. One woman had her hand hanging lifeless. I got scared, I quietly got up and went away. It was hard for me to breath. I only had shallow breathing. If I tried to breathe normally, there was a sharp pain in the chest. I went to our dormitory.
Then the suffering began again: the access to Stalin was not allowed anymore, only for delegations. I lived with a Chinese student and with a Romanian student. I went to suffer on Lenin Hills. It was the 8th of March, the last day of farewell with Stalin in the Hall of Columns. The Moscow State University was built on Lenin Hills. It was a sacred place for me. I came back, and they tald me that they waited for me because the Romanian delegation went to Stalin’s farewell. I was upset and went to suffer again on the Lenin Hills. When I came back, they told me that now the Chinese delegation went without me. Then a girl came from the fifth year. She asked if she can take Lena Golan’s passport, a student from Romania. She looked like Lena and wanted to use the passport to get to Stalin. I asked Zhi Qi, a Chinese roommate, to give me her passport. I also took clothes from her. All Chinese students were wearing identical coats and striped scarves. I took her striped scarf as well, so I had a Chinese passport and a coat with a scarf. We went together with the girl from the 5th year, it was getting late, we were afraid that they will close the access soon. A military officer was standing at the entrance. A tall Korean officer was walking nearby, we asked him: Are you going to see Stalin? – Yes. Then we will come with you. We took him by the arms from the two sides. The war in Korea was going on at the time. The officer, who was at the entrance, talked with the Korean officer for some time. We did not pay attention. We stood aside. They talked, then shook hands. I looked at them and admired: the friendship of nations, they were both so handsome! Then we got into the Column Hall.
Before the Column Hall there was a long line, again many people. After the crush I was afraid of crowds, I took the Korean man by the sleeve and did not let him go. We found the end of the line. Then I pulled away from the Korean man and was standing nearby. I didn’t pay attention to anyone, because I was in sorrow. Some students started to talk to the Korean man, who spoke very good literary Russian, without any accents, apparently, he was a Russian Korean. So I understood. We were standing for a long time. I was silent, I did not join the conversation. I glanced at these guys briefly, and one of them said: You are so beautiful, they should let you in without standing in the line. I looked at the Korean man. And you know, he looked at me with such eyes that I could not take away my eyes from him. That was love at first sight. We looked into the eyes of each other. I thought that I should not lose him. I repeated that all the time, like a spell. It was my second love. With Vova Borisov, I did not understand that this was love. Now I was 7 years older. I had grown up. I understood now that this was love at first sight. Then the line moved. I hold him now not because I was afraid of the crowd, but because I did not want to lose him. I could see the same thing in his eyes as well. Here my grief to Stalin disappeared somewhere. I passed through the Hall of Columns without noticing it. We were photographed several times. Somewhere in the archives there should be photos: a tall Korean man and a girl in a striped scarf. I kept him by the sleeve all the time.
You were shot on a photo camera?
Yes, some journalists took pictures several times. I didn’t feel comfortable to hang on his sleeve anymore. I decided to do as he wants. He could say goodbye to me and leave. But he did not say goodbye. We went in the direction of the Lenin library…