Santosh Kumar Pokharel
After a gap of five years, the longing to visit Russia had grown stronger. Russia, with its vast cultural tapestry and historical richness, had always been close to my heart, but this time, my journey carried a unique purpose. On August 8, I boarded a flight, embarking on a peace mission through the powerful medium of poetry recital in literary events I was invited to. The voyage was made possible by my friend, Nasser Al Jamal, who arranged my air ticket.
Nasser, originally from Lebanon, was not just any friend; he was a cherished companion from our days at Lumumba University in Moscow. I was interviewed by a YouTube channel of English Sahitya Post and Avenues TV and there was a courtesy meet with the Russian Ambassador in Kathmandu before my flight to Russia.
The flight was smooth, and I finally landed at Kaliningrad airport. The terminal was abuzz with activity, and I was going to see Nasser after more than thirty long years. However, my exit from the airport took longer than expected. The reason? A special token of our friendship—an exquisite bottle of Nepali whisky I had brought for him. The domestic flight from Moscow to Kaliningrad customs officers seemed unimpressed by the cultural sentiment behind my gift and charged me a hefty fee of 3500 rubles. Despite the unexpected hassle, the thought of the joy it would bring to Nasser made it worthwhile.
As I stepped out into the arrivals area, my eyes scanned the crowd, and there he was—Nasser, waiting impatiently. His face lit up as he spotted me, his expression a blend of joy, relief, and pure friendly affection. Our reunion was a heartfelt moment, filled with warmth and nostalgia. We greeted each other with a tight embrace, our bond transcending the long years in different lands.
The drive to his home was a journey in itself, filled with animated conversations and laughter. Nasser’s soulful joy at seeing me was palpable, and it mirrored my own emotions. His home in Vzmoriye was a haven of hospitality, a reflection of his generous spirit. Now a father of three sons and two daughters, Nasser lives as a Russian citizen. His daughters and two sons are married with families of their own. His middle son Maksim was especially memorable, always ready to assist me during my stay, ensuring I felt at home.
Nasser’s home was more than just a place to stay—it was a treasure trove of his passions and hard work. His vast library, with over fifteen thousand books, almost all Russian literature, left me in awe. It was a sanctuary for any bibliophile. His billiard room was a classic retreat, embodying elegance. Additionally, his impressive collection of wines and liquor would mesmerize any visitor, yet he abstains from drinking. Instead, his only indulgence was smoking Kalyan, puffing off smoke as he relaxed in his leisure hours. Nasser had worked tirelessly in his life and now enjoyed the fruits of his labor, living a high life filled with refinement and grace.
I still remember Nasser’s brotherly sentiments as he always took interest in my issues. One instance stands out vividly. I had a severe toothache and couldn’t sleep for four nights. Nasser, noticing my struggle, immediately took me to a dental clinic. He sat beside me the entire time, ensuring I was comfortable and reassured until my troublesome tooth was removed. In that moment, he was not just a friend but a true guardian, displaying care that I will never forget.
Nasser’s elder brother Rashid, residing in Moscow, extended his kindness and cooperation, reinforcing the warmth of their family. I was touched to hear from Jimilia, Nasser’s younger sister whom I knew from our university days, over the phone. Though living in a different country now, her voice rekindled shared memories. Conversations with Nasser’s youngest brother Basim further added to memories of those days. I vividly remembered their father, a gracious man who had once visited me at my hostel during our university days.
Kaliningrad city, nestled on the shores of the beautiful Baltic Sea, was a revelation. The Kaliningrad region, lush and green, was a sight to behold. I visited Svetlogorsk and Baltiisk beaches, immersing myself in their serene beauty and enjoying refreshing swims. Almost every corner of this region seemed alive with nature’s splendor.
Each morning, Nasser drove me to his office and left me to explore the city on foot. Kaliningrad’s charm lay in its unique blend of German heritage and modern architecture. I wandered through its streets, particularly mesmerized by the iconic Prospect Lenina, the heart of the city. The rows of old German buildings with their red sloping roofs stood proudly beside modern establishments, a perfect harmony of history and progress. The majestic church added an ethereal touch to the bustling center. Nasser has his new flat there.
The city’s traffic impressed me as well. The people were disciplined, adhering to rules with a respect that was rare to witness elsewhere. This orderliness reflected the spirit of the place, which had transformed over decades. Kaliningrad, once Königsberg of Germany, bore a rich legacy. Captured by the Soviet army during the Second World War, it now stood as a symbol of resilience and renewal. Walking through its streets, I felt the weight of history, knowing that this was the birthplace of the great philosopher Immanuel Kant.
On my last day in Kaliningrad, Nasser drove me to the Königsberg airport. We parted with a warm embrace, filled with brotherly sentiments. He said, “Keep informing me of your whereabouts,” a reminder of the enduring bond we shared.
From Kaliningrad, I journeyed onward to participate in the centenary celebrations of Rasul Gamzatov and the 90th anniversary of the Writers’ Union of Dagestan. My heart was full as I reflected on the kindness of people, the beauty of Kaliningrad, and the enduring care Nasser had shown.
Dagestan republic is a bit similar to Nepal as both these countries are hilly. My visit to the hills and home of their poet Rasul Gamzatov and nearby a huge river canyon and the hospitality offered by the Dagestani poet fellows all will be remembered in my life.
I took two baths and swims one in the Baltic sea in Europe and the other in the Caspian sea in Asia. Both these seas and their shores with their towns and suburbs will stay for long in my sweet memories.
This journey was a reunion; it was an immersion into history, culture, and the beauty of enduring friendships. Russia, once again, felt like an abode, and the green expanse, the Baltic and Caucasian charm, and the echoes of the past would forever remain etched in my memory.
December 3, 2024, Kathmandu Nepal.
[Santosh Kumar Pokharel is a global multilingual writer and poet of our time ]
