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From the Nationale Hotel I made my way up Tverskaya Street | |
Boutiques, restaurants, newspaper kiosks, everything familiar was suffused with something unfamiliar | |
A shirt with intricate patterns in a shop window hadn't changed since last I saw it, yet now it seemed quite different, not how it had looked yesterday or the day before, or when it was first arranged in the display | |
Different | |
This differentness was everywhere | |
Everything was imbued with change | |
On Tverskaya itself there were army vehicles of various descriptions, mainly khaki, but some were blue with barred windows and the word æPolice' painted on them | |
There were what at first glance seemed to be ordinary buses, but the bodies moving about inside them were wearing military uniforms | |
Huge antennae mounted on specialist vehicles reached out a dozen hands in different directions | |
On the roof of a Gazelle truck a policeman perched, looking into the viewfinder of the videocamera presciently mounted there and pointed in the direction of where I was going | |
By the red painted headquarters of the Mayor of Moscow, from whose balcony, a plaque reminded us, Lenin once spoke, a young soldier was trying on a backpack with an aerial only too familiar from films about the Second World War | |
Behind the Podium jewellery store, as if trying to hide, fifty riot police were on duty, their trousers tucked into their boots and their helmets the size of ripe watermelons. | |
Some loser I didn't recognise was cleaning the windows of the jewellery shop with a special mop, a sponge neatly attached to a long thin pole | |
By his feet, a red bucket filled with murky water stood on the pavement of Tverskaya | |
ôHow can anyone be cleaning windows with all this going on?" | |
I looked at the road | |
Hundreds of cars sped Muscovites in both directions | |
ôHow can people be going about their business with all this going on?" | |
I looked reproachfully at the window cleaner, a scrawny little man with a wispy moustache | |
ôWhat can I do about it? I've got a family to feed," he thought apologetically, I thought. | |
Tverskaya Street was blocked | |
The usual party of force had settled there, posted throughout central Moscow by their unknown warlord | |
I had almost arrived | |
I needed only to get through to Mayakovsky Square, the epicentre of events which promised to culminate in an outburst of street fighting. | |
Here we shall do well to turn for a moment from the military force and focus on the figure I cut | |
I was clad in tight black trousers, a black turtleneck, a black sailor's sheepskin jacket, black hat, and brutal pointed boots I had burnished before setting out | |
My black bag, which usually felt so heavy, today was weightless | |
I felt elated, and seemed not to be walking but hovering a couple of feet above the ground and moving my legs only in order not to attract attention | |
In this manner I proceeded from the Modern History Museum to Mayakovsky Square | |
God grant I get the chance to experience that buzz at least once more in my life. | |
Here the military stood shoulder to shoulder | |
Faces were distributed along the full 500 metres or so of the pavement | |
As if on parade, they stood solemn and resolute, but registering no real understanding of what they were doing there | |
There were almost no pedestrians | |
I would even say, I was on my own | |
All those who were supposed to be at the protest were already there | |
Others had probably chosen different routes | |
I was alone with the army and we were not on the same side. | |
I knew that in all probability every one of them was a perfectly decent guy | |
They all had their own life story and it was only circumstances obliged them to stand there, obeying orders from superiors rather than marching with me and others to demand a revolution, to create one | |
I walked on, feeling like a doomed revolutionary on my way to the firing squad | |
The eyes of all the soldiers were on me | |
Entering into the part, I walked a little taller, added to my expression a hint of ruefulness at being thus caught, and a little disdain | |
At the same time, I was thinking, ôDon't worry, guys, I don't hold this against you | |
You are only doing your job | |
Everything's cool." | |
They all admired me, I thought, my dignity and bearing | |
I wasn't weeping, wasn't snivelling or trying to find a way out, but marching contemptuously towards the scaffold. | |
Having proceeded 200 yards in the guise of a tragic captive, I was suddenly transformed into the leader who had forced the regime to take such meticulous precautions, cluttering up Moscow with military hardware and the people who serviced it | |
I became the visionary politician, a living legend, whom chance circumstance had caused to be late in coming to head his rebel army but for whom self-sacrificing people were waiting in the square, people willing to die for my ideas, for my person, and for the order I planned to establish | |
This role suited me no less than the previous one | |
The roles came to me of their own accord, imposed on me by my heart | |
I could even feel the cold metal of a pistol tucked into my trousers and concealed by my jacket | |
What sort of leader doesn't carry a pistol? | |
Of course, when the bullets started flying in my direction, valiant men would shield me with their own bodies, saving my life as they perished one after the other | |
Later I would weep at their graves and pray and award them posthumous honours, but not just now | |
Just now we were joined in a decisive battle and there was no place for tears. | |
When I suddenly became transformed into the rebel leader, the young soldiers whose eyes had been following me also changed | |
There was more contempt in their faces too, but in most of them I read, ôIt is my duty to despise you now, but when battle commences we will all come over to your side and support you!" | |
In Mayakovsky Square the speaker was saying into his microphone, ôThe regime is scared of us | |
It is a cowardly regime! We shall return to this place! We'll be back!" | |
Thousands of young throats picked up the refrain: ôWe'll be back!" Someone in the crowd shouted ôRe-vo-lu-tion!" and everyone shouted back, ôRe-vo-lu-tion!" The December wind fluttered banners, red and white, black and white, orange | |
I had arrived precisely as the protest was ending. | |
Journalists from TV companies I didn't know were speaking into microphones, reporting to their fellow citizens on the events taking place | |
The riot police started flexing their muscles in anticipation | |
Someone unfurled a white banner above the rally with black lettering which read, ôWelcome, March of Political Prostitutes!" ôProvocateurs!" said an old man standing next to me | |
The protestors shouted, ôGet stuffed! Get stuffed!" at the provocateurs and there was so much energy in that chanting, such enormous power! | |
I was looking for Limonov | |
I wanted to see him | |
I intended to meet him, or someone in the party leadership in order through them to contact him | |
I had studied their faces on the Internet until I could recognise the party's entire executive committee | |
There were a great many people around and to find Limonov was a practical impossibility, particularly since I couldn't actually see any of the leaders | |
As I made for the exit from the rally, I pulled myself up on the stone wall of a building in the hope of getting a better view | |
Two lads passed me | |
One, a short young man wearing a dark blue cap, boasted, ôI gave an interview." ôWho to?" | |
ôThe Russian Service of the BBC." | |
ôOh, the Russian Service of the Pee Pee Sea," his friend mimicked. | |
Strange-looking people in black, wearing headsets with microphones, were, as if just for their own home video, surreptitiously filming those leaving | |
Limonov's supporters began to appear under their banners, but none of those in the front row were the party's leaders | |
They were rank-and-file members with armbands, a few of them masked, and some without distinguishing marks of any kind, moving along Brestskaya Street. | |
I joined this motley crowd of members of an officially banned party | |
They were chanting ôPower to the people! Power to the people! Power to the people!" | |
And ôPutin out! Putin out!" A helicopter hovered above us | |
Suddenly, our orderly ranks wavered | |
About fifteen metres ahead I could see clashes | |
Those in the first ranks carrying banners started fighting back with their flagstaffs at the attacking riot police | |
Some, as always, tried to run back but others ran forwards into the melee. | |
They started to crush us | |
The small group I happened to be with was blocked in and not allowed to move forward or back | |
I was afraid of a stampede, because I would take the full brunt of it, standing right next to a wall | |
ôWhat's going on?" | |
I asked the person standing next to me | |
ôI have no idea," he said with an embarrassed smile | |
He must have been fifty or sixty years old. | |
I had a feeling that all those who were being blocked in were just the hapless protestors they arrest as æcriminal elements' in order to meet some target | |
Try telling them you were only a bystander! I could imagine the face of my parents if they found out I had been arrested on this march, after our conversation | |
I tried to persuade myself I didn't care in the slightest what my parents thought | |
If you worried about upsetting them and always followed their advice, you would never make your own way, and end up living conventionally | |
I tried to set all such thoughts aside. | |
Suddenly there was movement and everybody was running back towards Mayakovsky Square | |
Behind barriers and the backs of the police, journalists were photographing and recording everything | |
In order to get clear of the crowd, I moved right over towards the forces of ælaw and order' | |
Coming round a group of people, I glanced over at the journalists... | |
Damn! One of them was filming me with a hefty camera perched on his shoulder | |
I stepped in a puddle with my boots, which until now had been as black as deep, dark caves. | |
Walking back to Belorussky Station, I took the Metro a couple of stops and was soon home | |
Russian TV said not a word about what had happened | |
I turned to Euronews | |
In a handful of people kettled against a wall by the riot police I glimpsed the top of my hat. | |
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