Summary Where the sky met the hills
VS Makanin
Where the sky meets the hills
Composer Georgy Bashilov, listening to a guest at the usual, primitive-rough drinking song, frowns. The composer’s wife explains to others that he is not insulted by singing, but, on the contrary, feels guilty that his countrymen do not sing at all in the village where he comes from. Bashilov thinks that his fault is enormous. Embracing the gray head with his hands (he is strong for fifty), he is waiting for a sort of punishment, perhaps from the sky. And he thinks himself that in the night he will hear in the silence and darkness the tall, clean voice of the child.
The emergency settlement is small, only three houses, located in the letter “P”, an open part, like a sensitive ear facing the old factory, which often had fires. In one of these fires, the eight-year-old Bashilov was burned by his father and mother. He lived with his uncle, where he was fed and dressed, paid for it to a music school in a small
The first time Bashilov went to the village when he turned twenty-two. In the interstice, at the tables, the old women drank tea. Georgians found out, people were shouting with joyful exclamations. But Vasilisa’s grandmother, passing by, said slowly and separately: “U, pivka… sucked the juices out of us!” He sucked our souls! ” After a noisy feast, Bashilov was bedded by the Chukreyevs, in the bedroom of his childhood. Bashilov, falling asleep, answered someone: “I did not stretch the juices…” But the thought of wine has already settled in his soul.
The song stock of the village seemed great, but only two became musicians – Bashilov and his coeval Genka Koshelev. Genka was a weak singer, he even sucked juice from the village in the sense that he was drawing money from his parents, even after graduation. He was drinking, singing at restaurants. Remembering Genka, George decided that the old Vasilisa simply confused them. In the evening, the emergency workers sang. When Bashilov began to play the harmonica, the two women wept silently.
There was a gradual recognition of Bashilov, the composer, in part for this recognition Bashilov, the pianist, gave a lot of concerts. When he was about thirty-five, Genka Koshelev came to see him in Pskov, during a break after the first separation. He asked the fellow countryman, the famous composer, to help him move to the suburbs. Bashilov helped. A year later Genka as a token of gratitude invited Bashilov to a country restaurant where he sang for a guest. By that time Bashilov had written several successful pop songs, two of them he gave Gennady for the first performance, than Koshelev was shocked. Bashilov saw people in the restaurant trying to sing along with the orchestra, mooing, than acutely reminded of the homeless fool Vasik. Genka’s invitations became Bashilov’s burden, he did not want to hear about the restaurant “Cockerel” anymore.
Several years later Bashilov went to the village with his wife. In the middle of the house stood rotten tables, behind which two old women were drinking tea. Everyone said: the same two sing a song sometimes, young listen, but no one pulls up. Bashilov looked to where the sky met the hills. This wavy line gave birth to the melody only in memories. Here, in reality, this area was drunk, like water. In the evening, he and his wife watched a fire that sharply recalled Bashilov’s childhood, and left early in the morning.
After his author’s concert in Vienna, Bashilov in his Austrian colleague’s house “rolled” his new quartet. Foreigners particularly liked the third part, including the ancient, echoing themes of the Emergency Village. Bashilov could not restrain himself and explained that there was a tragic connection with the village: there is no longer this wonderful topic, as it is in his music. He sort of confessed. He is a bush that withered or unwillingly withers the scanty soil. “What a poetic legend!” cried the crowns. One of them said quietly: “Metaphysics…”
More and more often the old Bashilov seemed to be struck from above, as a payment, in the form of a falling board from a distant children’s fire, more and more often he felt guilty.
Bashilov decides to go to the village to teach the children there music. The tables are no longer there, the remains of the columns stick out in their place. The old women who remembered him had already died, Bashilov explained to unknown women for a long time that he had grown up here. Along with the watch comes the old man Chukreev, he recognizes George, but offers a post – a half-ruble a night. Bashilov goes to the nephew of Chukreev and explains for a long time that he wants to teach the children of the village music. “Children? .. In the choir?” exclaims the man and laughs. And with a confident hand includes a transistor – but, they say, you and music. Then, coming close to the composer, he said rudely: “What do you want? Get out of here!”
And Bashilov is leaving. But he turns the car – say goodbye to his native places. Bashilov sits on a half-benched bench, feeling a soft peace of mind – this is farewell and forgiveness. He quietly sings a song – one of those remembered as a child. And he hears how they sing along. This idiot Vasik, quite an old man. Vasik complains that they beat him and do not sing songs. They are quietly singing – Vasik quietly murmurs, trying not to falsify. “A minute, when the high clear voice of the child sounded, was approaching in silence and darkness, inaudibly, by itself.”
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