by Subramani Mani
A well-known twentieth century political figure who shook the world decides to take a stroll through Moscow and it takes a huge toll on him. You would think he was born in the twentieth century; no, that is not the case. He died exactly one hundred years ago, and since then he has been living in a mausoleum in Moscow. By now you would have guessed who I am talking about; yes, it is about Lenin.
He first walked through Moscow, the public spaces most familiar to him—the Red square, the Kremlin grounds and the major plazas and thoroughfares of the city. He was not allowed into the Kremlin buildings but he was able to take a peek at his own mausoleum. He was confused, and seeing him shake his head in bewilderment, a young man standing near him whispered in his ears. That is Lenin; he founded the first socialist state, Soviet Russia. I learned in high school today and came to visit.
In 1963 when I was seven and my sister was five, my uncle got an invite to visit, live, and work in the Soviet Union for two years. He was a writer, a freelance journalist, and his political sympathies were with the Communist Party of India which was undivided then. However, the ideological differences between the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the Communist Party of China, which originated in the mid-fifties with the destalinization programs brought about by the Khrushchev leadership, was out in the open by the early sixties. The CPSU-CPC ideological divide also polarized the CPI which eventually split into two—CPI, supporting the CPSU position and CPI(Marxist), favoring the CPC line. My uncle, as I understood him, was leaning towards the CPSU and CPI position, and I believe it was a significant factor in his getting invited to the Soviet Union.
We flew into Moscow on a clear sunny but chilly morning in the early summer of 63. A faculty member from the languages and literature department of Moscow State University was at the airport to greet us. He welcomed us warmly; the immigration formalities were smooth as we were guests of the Soviet state. We had been asked to travel light. The four of us squeezed into the back seat, the host sat in the front passenger seat, and the university driver took us to the Moscow State University campus. What struck us enroute was the cleanliness of the roads, and the streets, and the small numbers of vehicles on the road.
The professor took us to a two-bedroom apartment on the sixth floor of what looked like a post-World-War-II-built apartment tower. My sister and I got a room for ourselves and what I liked most about it was the view of the skyscraper of the main building on campus. The living spaces were sparingly furnished with beds, chairs and tables. All the major kitchen appliances were in place. I would say it was comparable to our townhome near the Delhi university campus, even an upgrade. There was hot water and cold water which was definitely a big plus but Moscow and Delhi winters are not comparable. Handing over a set of house keys our host remarked— Nobody around here locks their homes; everyone’s basic requirements are taken care of. I saw my uncle smile. I couldn’t tell if it was out of bewilderment, or understanding. We never locked up our home over the two years of our stay in the city.
My sister and I started elementary school on campus and began learning the Russian language. Uncle already knew Russian, linguistically he was in a much better place, but aunt started taking evening classes with other Soviet guests on campus to gain a working knowledge of the Russian language and Soviet culture. The word collective extending into collective effort, collective spirit and collectivism, as opposed to individual approaches and individualism, got a lot of attention in those days. But we were still required to do some class assignments on our own, though thankfully, they were not very taxing.
There is no Soviet Union, or Soviet Russia but just Russia now, as in the pre-revolutionary era, Lenin realized. He was confused by people talking on cell phones, and everyone staring into screens of different sizes—smartphones, iPads, tablets, laptops, computer monitors, and TVs. He walked around and talked with a large cross section of the people, and identified two segments of the populace, to make sense of the changes in society over the last one hundred years. School students—elementary, middle and high—would enlighten him about the twenty-first-century-world; he felt they would be the least biased. Seniors in their sixties, seventies, eighties, and even nineties, who had lived through socialism for different parts of their lives, would be a good resource for understanding the developments of the twentieth century. He wanted to grasp the growth and development of socialism in different countries, the rise of the socialist camp, and finally the great unraveling during the last two decades of the twentieth century.
There were some similarities between our current existential terrains. Lenin had made a giant leap forward by one hundred years into present-day Russia. And here I was, after a long jump covering sixty years, in Moscow State University as a visiting professor. When I told my new host that I had lived on campus in an apartment complex with a view of the skyscraper in the early sixties and would like to stay there if there was availability, he quipped— Oh! That Soviet relic. Most visitors prefer the modern high-rises; but I can check.
But there was also a key difference in our states of being. Lenin’s watch had stopped in January, 1924 and started ticking again in early 2024. In my case, the clock had continued to walk and march during the intervening six decades enabling me to keep track of, and register world events and developments.
From the moment my eyes met his warm searching gaze a few days after I landed in Moscow in early 2024, I recognized him instantly. I knew it was him, the real, original Lenin, and not a look alike. When I followed him around to observe him closely, I found that some of the elderly folks saw him as an affable Lenin-look-alike. Most young people just walked past him without any trace of recognition.
I asked myself how I could be so sure it was Lenin himself, and not an imposter. I found my answer in my visit to the Soviet Union during my childhood. Lenin’s presence was everywhere—in children’s books, portrait paintings, numerous sculptures and even a few documentary films. As a child I sensed that there was genuine love for Lenin among the grownups I interacted with—my school teachers, uncle’s friends, and other members of the MSU fraternity. During my walks with uncle on the MSU campus, and the Moscow city squares and plazas, what impressed me most when I looked at Lenin’s face was the force of his personality, the magnetic pull exerted on the viewer, the movement in his mission, and the momentum of his conviction showing the path ahead depicted in the various sculptures displayed around Moscow. I felt as though Lenin was alive in our midst. That I believe is the reason I recognized him instantaneously when I saw him walking near the Kremlin.
Greetings comrade. Welcome to the new century. The world needs you, again.
He looked genuinely surprised. With a warm smile he asked, how did you recognize me?
From my childhood heart. And you look the same—like what the pictures, paintings, and sculptures convey.
L: The world has changed a lot in the intervening one hundred years; my country too. I am talking to the children, grownups, and the elderly to understand the various developments. I have also started reading in the MSU library. There is a lot to learn and catch up.
I: I am visiting Russia after nearly sixty years. It was the Soviet Union when I was here as a child. A big transformation.
L: Interesting. Looks like you were here during the last phase of the Khrushchev era and the early years of Brezhnev times. (He looked at his watch.) I need to be going. I am meeting with a few senior people today. I am sure I will see you again.
He quickly walked away from me.
I had started teaching a course on literature during Soviet times and post-Soviet Russia. The administration had suggested Democratic Russia instead of Post-Soviet Russia but I had my own concerns. Even by the current diluted standards of western democracy, I did not feel comfortable characterizing twenty-first century Russia under Vladimir Putin as a democratic country. To prepare for my lectures I visited the MSU library frequently. On some days I found Lenin absorbed in a big volume with two towers of books sitting on the table in front of him. I mentally labeled the left tower as to be read and the right one as read.
A few weeks after our first meeting in the city I was sitting in the library. I had finished taking notes for my upcoming lecture when I noticed Lenin walking in. He greeted me with a smile and sat across from me. You have continuity and that is a big advantage. I’ve been disconnected with the world for one hundred years. I am just playing catch up. He said this with great urgency.
For a few seconds I didn’t understand what he was hinting at. Lots of things happened in quick succession over the last few decades. Many things are still fuzzy and I feel I have large holes in what I have grasped. I said this slowly, taking a long deep breath.
Let’s go outside and take a walk through the campus. It is warm and sunny. For a Russian fifty degrees is seriously warm but for a supplant from Delhi it didn’t feel so. But I was getting used to the Moscow weather. I picked up my jacket and we started walking outside.
These days students are just keeping to themselves. I don’t see groups of students gathering in different parts of the campus and engaging in animated discussions and heated arguments. Mostly, they are all glued to their phones even when walking with someone else.
He was right on the mark. I also felt that way even though I was used to cell phones, the internet, and some social media from its early days. I gently steered Lenin to an old-style coffee house which also served some exotic teas from different parts of the world. I remembered the place from my sixties visit with my uncle. We found a corner table by the windows and sat down.
Do you like Darjeeling tea? I asked Lenin. Growing up in Delhi I had been introduced to Darjeeling tea by my Bengali friends and it had become my favorite tea, and even my best drink.
He seemed to go back in time. His large forehead became furrowed; he appeared lost in thought, trying to remember a name. Have you heard about Manabendra Nath Roy? Without waiting for an answer, he continued. As a young man Roy participated in the Mexican revolution. But his heart was in Bengal and India. He came to meet me after the November revolution in Russia. When I served him tea, he took a sip and shook his head in a way I didn’t understand. Roy looked at me and said— ‘this is good, but you should try the teas of Darjeeling in north Bengal, they are the finest in the world’. He worked in the Communist International for some time. I read recently that later on in his life he gravitated towards some improvised version of humanism.
The coffee house was mostly occupied by students sitting one or two to a table. I could make out a few faculty members also in our midst. Folks were either gazing at their phones or engaged in quiet conversations. A few people threw glances towards us but their gazes moved away.
Nobody recognized Lenin; in a way it was surprising. It is probably the most famous name in history, after Christ. After the bible it is Lenin’s works that have been translated into the maximum number of languages. But it hurt that the greatest son of their country was sitting amongst them and chatting without anyone being aware of it. It was clearly an indicator of how much the world had changed over one hundred years.
But I was also pleased that we could chat unhindered. Lenin was in a thoughtful mood; big questions would rise up, intermittently, like big waves forming in the turbulent ocean, punctuated by a burst of animated conversations.
I have been trying to prepare a short list of a dozen people from the perspective of a young man or woman, let us say a teenager, who is seriously concerned about the direction of the world. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to come up with a single name yet, Lenin suddenly remarked, shaking his head and stroking his chin.
I could sense a note of exasperation on his face. Lost in thought, he poured more Darjeeling tea from the pot to his cup, took a sip—I really like this tea. Looking into my eyes with a big smile he suddenly asked, can you come up with a few names and help me out? My brain is just catching up with this century and its leading personalities.
However hard I tried I was surprised that I could not put forth any plausible names. Taking a few sips of tea from my cup in succession, I blurted out— Haruki Murakami.
I heard that name around here. An interesting and popular Japanese writer with an international following, is what I gather. I should start reading him one of these days.
Both of us fell silent for some time, sitting there and focused on savoring our tea.
There was a mounted TV in the far corner silently showing news feeds and related discussions. The patrons generally ignored them as pro government propaganda or biased reporting. Suddenly, there was a shuffling of feet and we saw a few people stand up and move towards the TV. Someone yelled NO as if a dog was rushing towards him glaring its teeth. Our gazes turned towards the TV which was reporting the death of the incarcerated opposition politician, activist, and Putin critic Navalny in a remote Russian prison.
Turning towards me, holding his chin in his fingertips with his right hand, and gently feeling and combing his trimmed beard, Lenin said— A sad day for our country. Navalny was a courageous fighter. Courage is a basic quality we should cherish. Without courage it is difficult to maintain one’s integrity; you start to vacillate, self-censor and could even end up selling yourself to the rich and powerful.
And you need to be convinced about the path you’ve chosen, and keep that conviction going, I interjected.
Lenin’s face brightened as though I had tugged at the periphery of the sails of a boat that he was contemplating and trying to design, and take it to the sea. You raise a good point. Conviction on the path you’ve chosen is quite important; otherwise, you’ll quickly take detours and exits that will pull you in a different direction. But you see, conviction is secondary. First, you’ve to pick the right path, and that is not always straightforward.
Courage, integrity, conviction—these are already built into the basics of a human being, may be in varying proportions. But the path has to be identified. How to pick the right path? You have different choices—some paths are fuzzy, some others hilly, and a few are filled with treacherous crevasses. But don’t we need a destination? The path, and our goal or destination, whatever we want to call that need to be aligned. What do you feel? I asked Lenin.
There were many interesting developments in the twentieth century, a lot of them positive. Hitler was defeated. My companero Stalin played a leading role in the Soviet victory over Nazi Germany. Mao organized a revolution in China, Fidel in Cuba, and Ho in Vietnam. Many things were moving in the right direction, you see.
What happened then Lenin? The socialist camp started coming unglued. Then it was the turn of the Soviet Union to start unraveling and finally the Soviet state you founded came apart.
I waited for his reaction. But I also felt I was asking some tough questions which had a bearing on the foundations of his vision for his country and the world. Moreover, he wasn’t directly in the picture after the first quarter of the twentieth century.
One more question cropped up in my head. It was not the most important one but somehow it seemed to hold a key to certain political developments and how different historical figures got involved in it. Turning towards Lenin I asked— What is your take on the naming and renaming of Petrograd and Tsaritsyn which have now become St. Petersburg and Volgograd after getting the names of Leningrad and Stalingrad during Soviet times?
Lenin looked at me in silence for a few seconds, shook his head side to side, and then poured the remaining tea from the pot into his empty cup. He took a few sips. It was clear the tea was already quite cold. I asked him if I could get him some more hot tea. Signaling to me to stay seated he started speaking in a voice now choking with emotion.
Let me answer your last question first. Petrograd was renamed after me but I wasn’t there when it happened. It seems silly to me. Tsaritsyn was renamed Stalingrad during the time of Stalin. I wonder why he permitted that. Then Khrushchev changed the name to Volgograd in the sixties as part of his destalinization effort.
I remembered the mausoleum scene. I have a related question. I saw you checking out your mausoleum with a look of disbelief, curiosity, and amusement, which then evolved into a grin. Finally, as you were leaving, I noticed a look of resignation on your face. What is your take on the mausoleum?
The question shook him up. His gaze remained fixed on my face for a few seconds. An eerie expression took over his face. Lowering his head he started speaking slowly in a hushed voice. You’re a good observer, my friend. The mausoleum was a complete surprise and shock to me. I had expected a few sculptures and paintings, but definitely not a mausoleum. It is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for the growth and development of socialism. Socialism is a living entity, like a plant, or a child; you have to nurture it, enabling its growth and development. You see, the mausoleum couldn’t save socialism or even the Soviet Union.
He continued. I’ve been wrestling with those other questions, and many different ones too. A lot has happened in the last one hundred years, and during this time the world has not evolved into a better or saner place to live in. There is the Russia-Ukraine war now entering its third year, the recent deadly flare-up in the intractable Israel-Palestine conflict, and the looming climate catastrophe due to global warming. It is getting late, my dear friend. Let us talk more another day. You can always find me in the campus library during late afternoons.
I was busy with my teaching and other related assignments for the next two weeks. There had been some snow but there was no serious accumulation on the ground; most of the snow had melted away. The afternoon Sun was causing long shadows of the buildings, and people were walking on campus wearing warm winter jackets. And then I saw Lenin walking towards me quickening his steps, and heard his now familiar greeting, Good to see you my dear friend. Good to see you too, I said, and we walked towards our favorite haunt. We ordered some pastries and by now our favorite Darjeeling tea. After we were comfortably seated, he removed his jacket and hung it on a nearby hook. Rubbing his hands together as the fading daylight was falling on his brightening eyes, Lenin jump-started the conversation.
L: A hundred years ago many luminaries walked the earth, accomplished men and women in different walks and endeavors of life—Stalin, Plekhanov and Gorky; internationally—Rosa Luxemburg, Marie Curie, Einstein, Freud, Stefan Zweig, Subhash Bose, Tagore, to name just a few.
I: Stalin led the Soviet Union to victory in WWII. Many countries in eastern Europe embraced socialism following WWII. Mao led a revolution in China and formed the PRC in 1949. Many colonies in Asia and Africa became independent in the late forties, fifties, and sixties. Fidel led a revolution in Cuba in 1959 and declared the country a socialist state afterwards. A small country, Vietnam defeated the French, and then the US, and established a socialist state there in 1975. The African National Congress under the leadership of Mandela led a protracted struggle against Apartheid and established democracy in the early 1990s. I see a big vacuum after that. Why this poverty of imagination and lack of leaders in various spheres of life now?
L: Yes, my friend, imagination is key. And caliber, which you acquire and develop through learning and struggle; social movements do help by setting the stage for collective development through mass action along with the trajectory of individual growth.
I am slowly coming to grips with the historical developments of the middle and later parts of the twentieth century including the setbacks the socialist movement encountered. And in the twenty-first century we are seeing many long wars led by the US, and the wars of aggression by Russia and Israel raging currently.
I: I can think of only one person who can bring about a desirable political transformation, and alter the course of history in this century.
L: (interjecting) Yes, my dear friend, you mentioned Murakami. I read some of his works—quite interesting and novel. But we need political leadership. And I am not able to identify anybody. Who is in your mind? Sorry, I’m missing out on this.
I: You have emerged again at the right moment in time. It is you I was referring to!
My eyes were tuned to Lenin’s face. There was complete silence. He looked genuinely surprised and taken aback. Then he seemed lost in thought for a few minutes. A serious look of determination enveloped his face; slowly, his face relaxed and a faint smile emerged. “My friend, you have cut out a path for me. Let me see if I can come up with What is to be Done Now”.
He stood up, embraced me, and walked out into the dark chilly night illuminated only by the moon, the stars, and a few street lamps, some of them vestiges of the vanished Soviet era.
Subramani Mani trained as a physician in India and moved to the US to pursue a PhD in Artificial Intelligence. After teaching graduate students and medical students at Vanderbilt University and the University of New Mexico for more than a decade he started writing, feeling the urge to share the memories of certain life experiences and perspectives which could not be done within the bounds of normal day-to-day interactions. He believes that honest storytelling can change us, and our world for the better. His stories and articles have been published/forthcoming in Marathon Literary Review, Same faces Collective, The Charleston Anvil, Umbrella Factory Magazine, New English Review, Fairlight shorts, and The Phoenix, among others.