Meet the Russians

Note: This conversation took place several years before the current invasion of Ukraine by Russia

“We drank all the time” says Dimitri, a faint Russian accent latent behind the confession. “You can’t be in the merchant marine and not drink. You make good money, good friends and travel all over the world, but in the end the drinking is too much. I know, I was there nine years.”

The rain has stopped. With the thick drops hammering on the porch it was almost impossible to have a conversation. It has been raining every day, and when the water falls, it’s with such violence that it quickly runs out, it never lasts long. Everything is saturated with moisture, the air is heavy and sticky, the smell of wet earth hangs in the air. The insects, birds, and frogs that interrupted the symphony of chirping, whistling, and croaking during the rainstorm already make themselves heard again, timidly tuning their instruments. After lunch we sit at the table drinking coffee, undecided about what to do next. Dimitri takes advantage of the moment to lecture me, Sara and Prakash. The other Russians talk among themselves at the opposite end of the table, they must have heard Dimitri’s stories hundreds of times, he likes to talk and tends to ramble, he talks of his life, passes judgments and philosophical remarks. He obviously considers himself an interesting individual.

“I tried to stop, many times I stopped, but I would sail back again. In the end only the twelve steps saved me. And I had to do other work. I wanted to open a center to help people with the same problem, alcohol, drugs. And I had been to India before, I knew that life is cheap and there are a lot of Russians here and in Goa. So my idea was good, it’s the people who are stupid, I’ve been here for almost two years, and only six patients. In Russia you have to pay for these addiction treatments, it’s a lot of money. Here you only have to pay for the trip, in our center everything is free, the treatment, the food, the room. And in a beautiful place, in nature, it’s also good for the treatment to be away from the city, from friends, without distractions or temptations.”

Aleksei is the first to leave the table. He exchanges a few words with Dimitri, who translates for us after he leaves. “He’s going to work out. He was in jail, you know, he did a lot of drugs. Now he’s like a monk, like those Chinese warrior monks. He’s always working, Aleksei. He does everything, construction, teaches yoga. I started with Peter two years ago. Before I was alone, then Peter came, then Aleksei. Aleksei is a great help. He came to be a therapist, but there are no patients, so my job is to find patients. And he doesn’t get any money, nobody has a salary, I just give them a little for expenses.”

Peter opens the little black dots of his eyes to Sara and points to a small frog hopping on the ground. They share a smile. Sara always rides with Peter when we go out, facing Peter’s vigorous back, his tiny bun flapping in the wind, she feels safe enough to relax and look around, free to enjoy the road and the scenery.

“…And you too Sara, yes?” asks Dimitri.

“What?”

“You’re a psychologist like him.”

“She’s an anthropologist” I reply.

“But you’re not addicted. You need to be an addict, only an addict can understand another addict. Addicts always try to fool you and they think you will fool them too, they are very suspicious, but if they see you are like them they might trust you. What you have studied doesn’t matter, you need to have personally gone through the twelve steps, only then can you help someone else.”

We know little of the Russians beyond what Dimitri decides to disclose to us. Grisha is an expert in construction. His harmless look should not deceive us, his bumpy face is not a result of teenage acne, but of years of doing drugs. He goes weekly to the health center in Gokarna for tests because of a drug-related illness. We don’t understand yet if Katia is also an addict or if she just came with him. They are not part of the permanent staff, they talk about leaving the center and traveling, getting to know the rest of India. Katia does, when Dimitri doesn’t take over the conversation. Grisha listens attentively, asks his girlfriend for clarification, and sometimes risks an idea in English, the words articulated slowly, insecurely, interspersed with laughter.

Of Aleksei, the yoga master, we know even less, with us and Prakash he communicates only through glances and smiles. He knows as much or as little English as Peter or Grisha, it’s out of shyness that he doesn’t speak. Dimitri and the other Russians hold him in high regard, everyone listens to him attentively, and even to us who don’t understand him, Aleksei conveys sense and sobriety. In his spare time he goes out for a run, does push-ups, sit-ups or weightlifting, or just sits cross-legged and reads. The image Dimitri projects of him is not unreasonable, a cross between a Zen monk and a prison inmate. But the ideas of incarceration and military stiffness don’t do him justice; outside of training and work he softens. He completely melts with children, and with the Russians he even jokes.

Peter always asks Dimitri to translate the funny remarks, so we can laugh too. He, who seemed the scariest of the Russians, turns out to be the most attentive one, particularly with Sara, constantly asking her if she’s okay, if she wants more food, if she needs help. At the stove, stirring the pot, peeling and cutting fruit, not even the knife in his hand restores the air of a thug we first saw in him. He’s the one who volunteered to make breakfast every day, saying it’s the only thing he knows how to cook, oatmeal and Russian pancakes (blintchiki) that he made for us once. Peter tries hard to communicate with the little he knows. He talks, points, gestures, stares in the air trying to find the missing word, and if he can’t, he asks Dimitri or Katia. During a card game he told us he was a dealer in a casino. He has been living in India for ten years and when he’s short of money he plays an extra in Indian movies. He doesn’t have to do anything, just show up, there’s a great demand for white extras and if we want it, he will give us his contacts. At other times he goes to Sai Baba’s ashram in Puttaparthi, many Russians stay there and he always meets someone he knows.

It’s Peter’s turn to get up. “Need anything from the town?” he asks Sara.

“No, no, thanks.”

Katia and Grisha say their goodbyes as well. Vanquished by the torpor that sets in with a full belly, Dimitri is stuck to the chair, sitting with his legs apart, the shirt open over his flabby belly. A trail of hair runs down to his waist, the sagging sweatpants showing a dark fur on his lower abdomen. Distracted, Dimitri tucks the goods between his legs with his hand and keeps talking, he still has us and Prakash to hear him. He is now lost in reminiscences of his homeland in Tatarstan. His mother is Tatar and married a man from Moscow. Dimitri proudly highlights his black hair, the darker skin, his native Tatar language, marks of the Turkish influence that distinguish him from the Russians. He lashes out at Vladimir Putin for the way he crushes the minorities and subjects them to his uniform image of Russia, Putin is the main reason he doesn’t want to live in Russia.

“Putin has been the president of Russia for a long time, right?” asks Prakash, innocently. “What’s the system like there? Are there elections?”

“Yes, he was elected” replies Dimitri.

“Are the elections real?” I ask. “He always wins by very large margins, he has the people with money on his side…”

“No, the ordinary people love him too” says Dimitri. “Most people in Russia support Putin, it’s true, not only the rich. He is a strong leader, and Russia has to be strong, it’s the biggest country in the world. After the Soviet Union we had weak leaders and Russia was being fucked, like a woman, our leaders were soft as women and Russians felt humiliated. Before we were a superpower like America and then everyone thought Russia wasn’t important anymore. With Putin nobody takes advantage of Russia, they’re afraid of Russia again.”

“There are the sanctions…” I say.

Sara abruptly stands up and takes off towards the rooms. Dimitri keeps going, “He doesn’t care about the sanctions, he does what he has to do. He’s very manly and people in Russia like that.”

I leave the table without listening to the rest. I go across the kitchen to catch Sara on the way down. When she sees me she blurts out, furious, “I have no patience for Dimitri’s talk.”

“He’s a bit of a macho…” I say, following her toward our bedroom.

“And he’s always talking bad about Indians, right in front of Prakash! Poor guy, we left Prakash alone with him.”

“They actually get along, Prakash likes to talk.”

“Dimitri is so rude to him! He sounds like he’s talking to a servant.”

“Dimitri only hears what’s inside of his head. He doesn’t even realize it, he thinks he’s sharing major insights. Don’t give him much thought, he’s not even consistent in what he says… But you can tell he likes Prakash.”

“He’s the only one who puts up with him…” says Sara, as we enter our little house, nested among the tall areca trees and the dense foliage of the forest.

Perpetual Motion is a serial novel. Go to the Table of Contents to read previous posts.