The authorities looked upon Kalankhan Adalatov"s funeral disapprovingly. I mean, the name of the deceased was not highlighted in the pres, nor on TV nor radio, except for the Factory"s wall newspaper "The Red Uvada" which released a small obituary written in soft-tin pen. As it was unusual and unique I copied it into my note-book. It read as follows:
Obituary
Kalankhan Adalatovich Adalatov has passed away following a long and serious illness . He was the founder of Uvada party, an ardent patriot of his Motherland, the father of local democracy, a great expert of waste utilization science, the permanent and wise leader of Uvada Factory. As he was a Crimean Tartar by nationality his father was arrested during Stalin"s reprisals and taken to Lubyanka . His mother and her baby were deported to Uzbekistan.
His childhood was very hard. They had left their house, a cow and a calf in the Crimea... Before being deported women and children had been driven into a church and kept there like cattle. The armed guard did not allow the adults to leave the church. Kalankhan"s mother told her son to go home and feed the cow and the calf. When the little boy entered the house and went up to the cow and the calf he saw them shedding tears as if saying silently: "Where have you gone leaving us?" Kalankhan fed the cow and the calf and gave them water, and when he scratched them lovingly the cow cuddled up to him like a little child cuddles up his dad. Then Kalankhan hugged her enfolding round the neck and also started crying. When he went out he saw some trucks and heard the voices of crying women.
The armed men were entrucking women and children to deport them. Kalakhan"s mother was also forcibly caused to get on the truck, but each time she would get off, holding her child, that is, Kalaghan"s daughter, in her arms, crying bitterly:
- Sonny! My son has fallen behind! I shall not go anywhere without him! Kalankha-a-an! So-oo- ny!
On hearing his mother"s voice and seeing her Kalankhan ran to her as fast as he could crying:
- Mom, I am here!
When he ran up to her she hugged him with tears in her eyes. Then they were loaded to the trucks, and they left their homeland for ever. At the railway station they put them in the train and carried away. On the way Kalankhan"s sister fell ill and died. Kalankhan"s mother was in despair. She cried fastening her teeth silently lest the armed men should see her deceased daughter and take her away.
The girl"s body started decaying and evolving smell. When the train stopped in a steppe the armed men made Kalankhan"s mother and him get off and bury the deceased daughter right in the sand. They were crying so bitterly, oh, lord!
Years went by. Kalankhan"s father was freed from the Stalinist prisons and arrived in Uzbekistan. So they had found one another at last! After that Kalankhan never let his dad"s hands go for a minute so that he might not lose him again.
Now, comrades, let us take off our headgears bending our desolate heads in memory of Kalankhan Adalatov.
So may he rest in peace!.. Ugh! Ugh!..U-u-gh.. Damn, I"ve got a cold! Ugh!..U-u-gh!
Excuse me. Just a minute. I had a pill somewhere here. Ah, there it is. I"ll take an aspirin tablet and one for the flu. There"s water at hand.. Just a moment...Gurgle-gurgle-gurgle. There! I"ve had it. Ugh! Disgusting! Pha!.. Excuse me once again. Well, where did we stop? Ah yea, Kalankhan Adalatov will live for ages in the hearts of his friends and of course, in the hearts of his enemies who are happy about his death...Hey you! Why don"t you take off your scull-cap? Doesn"t the obituary concern you? What a stupid man! What a barbarian! Neanderthal man, you! Well, I should say...Ok, I"ve got an idea. Comrades, let us commemorate our late Director with eternal silence.
Administration
Next to the wall newspaper in a small plastic case with a black fillet there was a portrait of Kalankhan Adalatov painted a canvas by the farmer"s artist Athenian.
- I have paid the artist a pretty sum of money from the funds of Uvada Factory for this portrait - said proudly the chef accountant Kujinbay.
- Really? - I said - then we must cherish it like the apple our eye. To prevent it from stealing we should install a powerful signaling system and an observation camera.
At this point the charwoman Rukhfasa started cleaning the dear deceased Director"s portrait and suddenly cried out: "Aa-aah!"
On seeing her in a state of stupor we thought she was stung by a scorpion or something, but then...
As we looked carefully at the precious portrait of Kalankhan Adalatov we saw that the portrait was half wiped out The Factory employees were looking at Rukhfasa as if she had committed a satanic act of vandalism. The terrible thing about it was that beneath that hack-work which Akhunjan had done we saw a sullen, flaxen-haired old man in a jacket and a neck-tie. It was Comrade Chernenko, Member of the Politburo of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, Secretary of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR.
It so happened that according to the Trade Agreement the artist Akhunjan was to paint a little portrait in oil, but cheating Kunjibay, the artist had painted it in gouache. We found out that among the employees there was an informer who, cooperating with the Committee for State Security, reported on people. So on that day secret agents, twisting his arms and handcuffing him, took Kunjibay, along with the portrait of the General Secretary, to meet Akhunjan face to face.
Shortly afterwards they were tried on political grounds and sentenced to long terms of imprisonment. The interesting thing about it was that Kunkinbay had sent a letter to his relations from prison calling them to urgently commit a crime and go to prison. He said life in prison was much better than in freedom.
On hearing that, many Matarakaners started committing a crime hoping to be sent to jail. Some applied to court asking for life imprisonment on frame-up.
According to prison scholars the movement was to become a mass phenomenon, and prosecutors had fixed the bribe for which innocent people would be put to prison on frame-up accusations.
The Lubyanka - the popular name for the headquarters of the KGB and affiliated prison on Lubyanka Square in Moscow.