Viktor Kolesnikov - Woven from Rage
Listening to the monotonous surah sounding from the outside, the man at the window was peering into the distance. The landscape was a dull pale wasteland stretching for several kilometers. Red, brown and yellow rocks, scattered on the misty horizon line, lofted to the cloudless sky. It seemed that these blocks of stone held the firmament: they seemed so monumental. But it was not only the nature of Afghanistan that amazed the guest who arrived from afar. This region has changed a lot over the years of the conflict, and it was really frightening to see what the once prosperous Muslim state had turned into.
A twenty-five year old researcher, Mikhail Aleksandrovich Reznikov, was not ready to face the horrors and brutality of war at such a young age. The young man spent his entire adult life in laboratories, university classrooms, and libraries. He had left Moscow only a couple of times, having received a ticket to a sanatorium, where he spent most of the time reading books. Here he had to face a trip to South Asia.
The road to Faizabad alone left indelible impressions, which would arise in a bright multicolored collage of memories throughout his life. The path was both dangerous, difficult, and exciting at the same time: flight by military transport plane to Kazakhstan, and then by helicopter; the extraordinary heat he encountered in July, which was not described in any fiction that he read in between scientific literature. The route from Kabul to the secret facility, called "1-03", was also breathtaking, because he had to follow the mined and shelled winding mountain roads. And the armored personnel carrier served as a traveling transport for Mikhail.
The scientist was moving accompanied by heavily armed KGB officers. On the way, now and then there were destroyed buildings, broken, burned and shot cars. In some of them he saw dried or decomposing corpses. The bodies belonged to both children and adults. Death is merciless, and it rampaged at its home—the war. The researcher realized this immediately on the way to his destination. But the sights encountered along the way could not be compared with what they saw in the walls of a secret facility located in the heart of Baghlan province…
"A man begins to appreciate life only when he realizes that it is about to end. When he finds out about an incurable disease, when a gun is put to his head or a death sentence is passed in the courtroom. Only then does he begin to hear and notice the charms of life—an amazing phenomenon that is granted to people. Only then does he hear nature whispering to him, and see how beautifully the sunset paints the sky and earth in crimson tones. Only then does he realize how dear the close people are and how many words have to be told; but time is inexorably passing away like water through his fingers. Resentment, pain, fear, hatred, all these feelings mix up in a doomed man. He is afraid of death. Afraid of endless emptiness. People also change their attitude to life in war. They begin to recall the faces of their loved ones, and realize how beautiful, colorful and interesting their domestic life is. Such mundane things as little conversations with a loved one, breakfast in a cramped, but cozy kitchen, reading books, kissing, also gain value. Lots of things.
Unfortunately, people do not see happiness in everyday things that make up their lives, and do not appreciate what is given to them. People do not notice death in peacetime either, and behind the transparent veil of everyday affairs, it steals unnoticed on the heels of a person. It is in war that you quickly understand the price of life and freedom, since the thin veil of peaceful existence instantly burns under the onslaught of hatred, fear, pain, and cruelty. Only then you begin to truly appreciate the amazing gift of life.”