Chapter 20
A Day at the Museum
Another sleepless night awaited Nasrosoltan. The more he tried not to think of Irina, the more he did. He was walking on the razor’s edge between the fear of jeopardizing his tutoring position and an unnerving infatuation for Irina. He had experienced this feeling before, back in Shiraz, and that memory still felt like a wound that had not healed. Nasrosoltan desperately wanted to avoid the same emotions from resurfacing to betray him once more.
His life had suddenly become too complicated, and he realized he needed to seek guidance for soothing the unrelenting turmoil within him. He knew he should stay away from Princess Irina, yet with each lesson, this had become more difficult for him to do.
In his quest for calm, Nasrosoltan decided to consult his old friend Rustam to discuss his predicament. He sent word to Rustam at the Astoria to see if he was available to meet the next day, noting that he needed to discuss something with him urgently. Rustam replied via return note that he could not meet the next day since he had a prior appointment with the minister of commerce, adding:
I also have some good news to share. My family is finally moving to St. Petersburg from Tbilisi in the coming weeks. I am overjoyed, and I look forward to them finally meeting you.
Rustam ended by suggesting they have lunch the day after next, at the Astoria. Reading his friend’s note made Nasrosoltan think about how much he missed his own family, and suddenly a feeling of loneliness engulfed him. In St. Petersburg, he had no friends other than Rustam. He did have acquaintances from the conservatory with whom he socialized. But with none of them did he feel close enough to discuss matters of a personal nature or to ask for their advice.
Nasrosoltan was eager to meet with Rustam to see what words of wisdom he may offer. Obviously, his friend was more experienced—not because of his years and graying hair, but because he had a unique way of recognizing solutions to problems through his keen perception of situations. This ability may have been the reason for Rustam’s success as a businessman, always seeking what others may have missed. More than anything, Nasrosoltan just needed someone trustworthy with whom to share these feelings he had bottled up within himself.
The next day, to ease his cluttered mind, he planned to visit the State Hermitage Museum. Nasrosoltan hoped that art could clear his vision to find a path out of his confusion. On his way there, he noticed a crowd of people going in the same direction toward one of the government buildings, where hundreds of striking workers had already gathered and were demonstrating.
Even though the Russian economy was growing at a pace that was the envy of other European nations, there still was much discontent with the tsarist regime. There had been a massacre of striking Siberian gold miners a year earlier that had led to an eruption of protests and industrial unrest throughout the country. This mayhem had now spread to the capital city with a series of strikes and demonstrations.
Rustam had become an investor and partner in the Putilov Company, which produced railway products and supplied artillery to the Imperial Russian Army. He had mentioned to Nasrosoltan how anxious he was that his workers would follow suit and strike. He even confided to Nasrosoltan that some nights he could not sleep, consumed with such worries. Nasrosoltan understood Rustam’s concerns, but he also felt sympathy with these workers. It did not seem fair to Nasrosoltan that while the owners of capital, like his own friend, were increasing their wealth several-fold a year, these workers had to fight for safe working conditions and fair compensation.
Considering how money seemed to have provided a poor pillow for Rustam, Nasrosoltan was at least grateful that his insomnia had to do with his feelings for Irina rather than for money.
When Nasrosoltan approached the gathering, the crowd was peaceful, with the strikers protesting loudly. As he strained his neck to look over the mass of people, he sensed a tension in the air. A feeling of foreboding overtook him as he witnessed government troops on guard at the building entrance, with their rifles and bayonets primed.
Suddenly without warning, a few shots rang out. Nasrosoltan initially thought the troops were firing in the air to disperse the crowd. But the gunshots seemed to come from a direction other than where the guards were standing. He had heard that agent provocateurs sometimes mixed with the demonstrators to create havoc, to entice the soldiers to respond with force. No matter who had fired the shots, it resulted in the now terrified crowd scrambling for cover.
Nasrosoltan was far away in the back of all that was happening but was immediately overwhelmed by the crowd barreling toward him. He attempted to get out of the way of the stampede when someone pushed him, knocking him down to the ground forcefully. The sound of the roaring crowd frightened him. Nasrosoltan struggled to get up off the ground, but he lost his balance and was knocked down again. He could not breathe, panicked that he would suffocate, while all around him, people were running and screaming in fear. His heart raced, and his limbs felt numb, and he thought he was going to pass out when out of nowhere, a stranger’s hand reached out to grab his. If not for this helping hand, which allowed Nasrosoltan to get back to his feet, he would have certainly been trampled. He finally righted himself and was able to mix in with the crowd and run to safety.
He escaped the commotion and collapsed on a nearby street bench, still breathing heavily. While Nasrosoltan sat there catching his breath and dusting himself off, he remembered the tragic and bloody Sunday afternoon in January 1905, when thousands were killed by the tsar’s Imperial Guard. It made him wonder if history may be repeating itself, a thought which greatly disturbed him.
His plan to visit the museum now seemed frivolous in light of what he had gone through, so an unsettled Nasrosoltan abandoned the idea of going altogether. Since he had lost his bearings, Nasrosoltan tried to reorient himself to find his way home and soon realized that he was actually very close to the Hermitage. Now out of danger’s way and feeling much calmer, Nasrosoltan spent a few moments wondering what to do. Even though he was still unnerved, he changed his mind and decided to go to the museum after all. Nasrosoltan hoped that viewing the rare artwork on display would help settle his nerves and afford him a feeling of serenity amid the morning’s chaos.
Once at the Hermitage, the first exhibit Nasrosoltan encountered included Napoleonic war era paintings, many containing scenes of gruesome death and destruction, rattling him even further. He had decided to come to the Hermitage to gain peacefulness; instead, he was confronted with blood and guts, something he was in no mood for, not even in a masterpiece. Nasrosoltan immediately recognized he had made a mistake in coming to the museum after such a harrowing morning, and he decided to leave.
On his way out, as he passed one of the cavernous rooms dedicated to French painters, Nasrosoltan found himself fixated by a Henri Matisse painting, Harmony in Red.
The painting had a magnetic pull, drawing him in closer. He sat down in front of this sizable oil-on-canvas masterpiece and carefully spent time studying the bright red colors and the rhythms of the foliage patterns. For some reason, this particular painting had a powerful effect on his sensibilities, distracting him from his recent troublesome thoughts.
As he studied the intricate details of this work, it was as if he could almost hear the painting. This surprised Nasrosoltan as he began to recognize similarities between music and painting. He noticed how both shared principles of rhythm, harmony, and balance. The same rhythm he used in his compositions, inviting listeners to sway to the music, was used here by Matisse, inducing Nasrosoltan’s eyes to dance from one point of this painting to another. And just as Nasrosoltan used musical motifs to give his melodies their overall balance, the artist had used this same balance to add structure to Harmony in Red. A harmony and balance that, as of late, was missing in Nasrosoltan’s life and that he was desperate to restore.
This visit to the Hermitage actually turned out to have a calming, therapeutic effect on Nasrosoltan, silencing the chatter in his mind and washing away the dust of c
onfusion from his soul. A much-needed interruption of what had been, until today, a hectic schedule of study and tutoring, culminating in the calamitous events of the morning.
Nasrosoltan left to go back to his apartment and realized he had lost track of time, as the sun had set long ago, and it was totally dark outside. The trip to the museum had cleared his mind enough that upon returning home in the fresh evening air, he was finally able to have a good night’s rest.
Chapter 21
The Arrogance of Ignorance
The next day, Nasrosoltan arrived at the Astoria to lunch with Rustam. After looking around the stately lobby, he did not see his friend, who would usually be reading the newspaper and smoking a cigarette. Nasrosoltan decided to sit down to wait for him, but after a half hour, he became concerned, as Rustam was never late for their meetings. He approached the hotel's front desk and asked the attendant to contact Rustam’s room to announce his arrival.
The man asked, “Was Monsieur Somkhishvili expecting you?”
Nasrosoltan replied, “Yes, for lunch at the restaurant.” The man requested that Nasrosoltan wait a moment while he informed the hotel manager, which seemed unusual.
When the manager arrived, he introduced himself and said, “Sir, are you a friend of Monsieur Somkhishvili?”
A perturbed Nasrosoltan responded with a curt “Yes! Why do you inquire?” feeling insulted, wondering what about his appearance this day raised so many questions from the staff.
The hotelier apologized with a somber face. “I am very sorry to inform you that just this morning, we received word that Monsieur Somkhishvili has passed away.”
A devastated Nasrosoltan could not believe what he just heard. In a flurried and anxious voice, he stammered, “This can’t be! How did this happen?”
The man responded sorrowfully, “It seems that yesterday there was some disturbance outside the Ministry of Commerce, and he was struck by a stray bullet. He was taken to the hospital, but his condition was too grave, and he died in the early morning.”
Nasrosoltan was overcome with sadness and looked around in disbelief. Witnessing his terrible distress, the hotelier continued gently, “The police just informed us a few hours ago. I am deeply sorry for your loss. I was just sending a note to inform his business manager of the tragedy.”
Nasrosoltan suddenly thought about the family Rustam left behind and asked, “What about his family? They were planning to move to St. Petersburg from Georgia. He was expecting them in the next few weeks!”
The man took in the heartbreaking information and replied, “Hopefully, his manager can get word to them before it is too late.”
Nasrosoltan was awestruck. He now realized he had been there at the same moment the shooting took place. He felt terrible that he had gone on to spend the whole afternoon at the museum, while unbeknownst to him, his friend lay dying alone in a hospital bed. How he wished he could have been at his side for those last few moments. He thought how Rustam had so much hope for the future, so many unfinished plans, all silenced in an instant by a bullet not even intended for him.
A thoroughly dejected Nasrosoltan left the hotel, consumed with worry for Rustam’s family. He knew the family would not want the funeral in St. Petersburg since Rustam’s wish had always been to be buried in Georgian soil.
Dazed and confused, he made his way back home. He spent the next two days entrenched in his apartment in a depressed state, not wanting to see or talk to anyone. He barely left the room, and he kept the shades pulled in total darkness.
The gloom in the air was intolerable. Nasrosoltan kneeled at the foot of his bed and began weeping and murmuring as if communicating with the soul of his dear friend. Within less than twenty-four hours, he had gone from a feeling of confusion to clear-mindedness to now deep sorrow. He spent the rest of his waking hours that evening cursing fate out loud.
On Monday morning, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the conservatory. Emerging from his dark apartment and busying himself with his coursework distracted him from his dark thoughts.
***
That afternoon Nasrosoltan once again visited the palace to tutor Irina, but today she noticed he was not the same man she had last seen just a week ago. His eyes carried little of the fire she was accustomed to seeing and instead exhibited a quiet suffering—of what, she did not know the reason. They sat side by side at the piano, and she began to play, but after a few minutes, she noticed his attention was elsewhere, as he was distant and silent.
Curious to know the cause, Irina inquired, “I thought perhaps that you are displeased with my playing, but there is a shade of grief upon your face that points to something other than a few misplayed notes; please tell me, what is troubling you?”
Nasrosoltan turned to her, vulnerable and teary-eyed, telling Irina, “You are quite observant. I apologize if I am not prepared for today’s lesson. I did not plan to mention this, and I did not want to disturb you with talk of unpleasant things, but unfortunately, it seems my eyes have betrayed me this day. I am carrying the pain of losing a dear friend so unexpectedly,” and he went on to explain the tragic events leading up to Rustam’s death. “He was a good man, and I am quite saddened by the calamity that befell him.”
Irina, who was overwhelmed at his expression of sorrow and display of love for his friend, suddenly placed her hand upon his in a gesture of comfort and sympathy. Boldly, he grasped her hand and kissed it gently.
This time when they touched, there was no giggling on her part and no pulling away of his hand in fright, just an instant frozen in time. They looked into each other’s eyes, sharing this tender moment without a word needing to be exchanged.
That her touch could be so comforting to him at a time when he felt so unguarded was something he had not contemplated. Nasrosoltan never imagined that the loss of his friend could have awakened such feelings within him. A sense of calm engulfed him as he breathed in the scent of lavender on her hand, and he cherished this closeness, as it gave him much-needed solace.
Irina gently pulled her hand away as they both heard footsteps in the distance, worried that someone would witness the display of affection between them. It seemed as if they both wished the lesson would never end, as neither wanted to leave the presence of the other.
Unexpectedly, the grand duke’s secretary entered the music room and announced that Grand Duke Alexander wanted to meet with Nasrosoltan. He bid farewell to Irina, whose eyes were glowing with excitement as she leaned in closer to wish him goodbye, already counting the days until next week’s lesson. Even though he had left her presence, she was delighted that they were still under the same roof, as Nasrosoltan joined her father in his study.
She rushed up to her room and pulled out her diary in haste to record every emotion she had just experienced. This was the first time she felt so strongly toward a man, and she wanted to safeguard, in her own words, the beauty of each moment of the past hour. She wrote:
I am sad to see how Nasrosoltan is tormented by the fate that has befallen his friend. It is surprising that just a while ago, I believed him to be so strict, so indifferent. But now, he shows such tenderness and warmth towards me and has kindled indescribable feelings within me.
When he took hold of my hand today, I trembled with anticipation, especially when he kissed it—such a gentle kiss. I tried so much not to show my excitement, for I did not want him to think I was alarmed at the gesture. I did not want him to pull away! Sometimes it is unbearably painful to sit close to him and to look into his eyes without being able to express what I can so effortlessly write on these pages. I pray he feels the same way towards me, for I think of him all my waking hours and dream of him while asleep!
Meanwhile, when Nasrosoltan walked into the grand duke’s study, he noticed that the grand duke was not in his usual jovial mood and seemed sorrowful. Nasrosoltan was curious to know why but said nothing, waiting for the grand duke to break the silence. After offering Nasrosoltan a brandy, the grand duke, mournful and de
spondent, told him, “I was disheartened today. I heard terrible news concerning a wealthy industrialist killed a few days ago during a workers’ protest. The government officials in charge of the investigation are unsure if it was the Bolsheviks or a lone wolf from the striking metalworkers. Some surmise it was a stray bullet, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but in any event, the death of this man has saddened me.”
Startled to hear of the same event he could not stop thinking about, Nasrosoltan choked up and asked, “Are you referring to Monsieur Rustam Somkhishvili?”
The grand duke replied with surprise, “Yes, that is correct. He was a Georgian, and his company was supplying us with artillery. How do you know of him?”
“He was my dear friend,” Nasrosoltan replied as he choked back the tears. “I was there the day it happened. In this whole city, I had no closer friend, but now he is gone.”
Then, with his voice cracking, a desolate Nasrosoltan said how much he would miss Rustam and in one fell swoop downed his entire snifter of brandy. The grand duke, wishing to console him, followed suit by raising his glass and saying, “May God rest his soul!”
Grand Duke Alexander witnessed a side of Nasrosoltan that he would not have seen if this tragedy had not happened. He was impressed that the young man had never mentioned his connection with this supremely wealthy businessman. It was a quality the grand duke found refreshing in a city where many considered name-dropping a virtue.
Hearing how Nasrosoltan had just lost his dear friend, in a gesture of kindness, the grand duke offered, “The grand duchess and I would like to invite you to dine with us one evening in the next few weeks when our schedules permit.”
Nasrosoltan thanked him for his thoughtfulness and gratefully responded, “Your Highness, it would be an honor and a privilege, and I look forward to the occasion.”
The grand duke announced, “Splendid; a formal invitation will be forthcoming.”
A Hundred Sweet Promises Page 16