“Are you nuts? Who drinks so much spirit on an empty stomach? I’ll go down to the grocery and buy some sausage on credit.”
Tazo was staring at the wardrobe where he kept his Grandfather Frost’s red garment along with his other clothes. There was the hat and the boots there too. He hadn’t worn them for twenty years now. Everyone said they were out of fashion; the new Grandfather Frosts were different, too. Besides, they were accompanied by young girls, their “Grand-daughters Snows”. The name “Grandfather Frost” was out of date as well; they were called something he couldn’t remember.
He closed his eyes, recalling the New Year Eve of 1996. It was snowing heavily in Tbilisi. The streets were covered with slippery ice. He generally visited only a few streets in Vera district. He used to visit the families in the morning. Some families gave him gifts for their children beforehand, and to some places he traditionally brought only sweets. On New Year Eves the main event for the kids was the visit of the Grandfather Frost; it was the proof of his existence.
He had paid a visit to the Kordzadze family for the third time already. Little Reziko was looking at him with the eyes full of admiration.
“Grandfather Frost, may I touch your cloak?”
“Of course you may, buddy.”
“Grandfather Frost, do you want me to tell you a rhyme?”
“Sure, my best beloved. I’m all ears!”
“ Kartl-Kakheti, Imereti, Mengrelia and Guria –
All are native land to me, and to my heart they all are dear!”
“Bravo, Reziko, bravo! You are a very nice boy, and here is your present. I’ve received your letter and brought you the car you wanted so much. It works on batteries, you know, and when it runs into some obstacle, it turns round and proceeds its way.
“Oh, it’s just what I wanted! Thank you, Grandfather Frost! I love you so much! Do you give presents to the other kids, too? They must be waiting for you. You give presents to all of them, don’t you? The things they have asked you for.”
“Of course I do, my boy. If kids behave well, I always give presents to them.”
“How nice! How nice!”
***
“Are you asleep or what, old man? I’ve been knocking on the door for ages. Zoya opened it for me. She is a nice woman. If I were you, I would marry her and unite my flat with hers.”
“Stop kidding, old codger! I’m already dilapidated; it’s too late for me to think about the bonds of matrimony.”
“Don’t be stupid! Haven’t you heard about the eighty year old people who’ve got married quite recently? Here, take the soft cheese; they have given it to me on credit as well.”
“Who is going to pay for it all?”
“None of your business. Have you thought about my suggestion? Mind, if you don’t go to him on your own, I’ll tell Nodara and we will drag you by force!”
“Okay... But what shall I tell him? Dear man, I’m dying of hunger and be so kind as to give me a little money?”
“O, my god! How stupid you are at times! He owns a lot of factories and the other stuff like that. You just have to ask him to give you some kind of job at any of them; say, a job of a night watchman or something of the kind!”
“I don’t know really... have you got a cigarette?”
“You don’t have to know anything. Just visit him. Will he devour you for that?”
“Okay. Okay... Pour me another glass, will you?”
“Just shave and go, I tell you!”
“Okay, I will.”
***
It was a sunny winter morning. But there was a nip in the air. Tazo was walking along the street rather reluctantly. He was thinking over and over again about what to tell Reziko, but couldn’t decide on the exact words. All the thoughts mixed up in his head.
“Why do I worry that much? I’m not an actor to remember every word of my part. I’ll play it by ear,” the old man decided in the end and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Tazo was startled.
“Yes, please. I want to see Mr. Kordzadze, Revaz Kordzadze.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I’m afraid, not. But he knows me well...” The old man was at a loss and a bit taken aback.
“Would you please go upstairs? There you will find Tsisana, his secretary. She will help you.”
“Thank you ever so much!”
“You’re welcome.”
Tazo hurried upstairs. The soles of his shoes were wet and they slipped on the marble floor.
It was very warm in the building. The staircase was incrusted with sophisticated figures. There were pictures, painted by famous artists, hanging on the walls, and there was a huge crystal glass luster hanging down from the ceiling at the top of the staircase.
“Excuse me Miss, you must be Tsisana, the secretary...”
“Just a moment, please,” the young woman answered and proceeded to talk over the telephone, grinding coffee and pretending to pull her mini skirt a bit down. “Yes, I was there. Reziko brought me the tickets. Mr. Kordzadze, I mean”, she corrected herself looking at the old man. “No, nothing of much interest, I’d say... Okay, I’ll call you back soon. Bye!” She hung up and addressed the old man:
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I’d like to see Mr. Kordzadze, please.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No, but he knows me well. Will you please tell him it’s Tamaz Kapanadze from Belinski Street, the Grandfather Frost?”
“Shall I tell him you are the Grandfather Frost?”
“Exactly.”
Tsisana disappeared behind the double door. A bit later Tazo heard a hissing sound. It was the electric coffeepot. He leaned over the counter and switched it off. He caught a sight of the computer screen with the corner of his eye. It displayed some card game. “O my god! It seems they even play cards via computer now,” the old man thought.
The door opened and there appeared Tsisana with an irritated and annoyed air on her face.
“Are you sure you came to the right address?”
“Yes, I am. Isn’t it Revaz Kordzadze’s office?”
“It is. But Mr. Kordzadze couldn’t recall you, so he refused you of his audience.”
“Why? Have you told him that it was the Grandfather Frost from Belinski street?”
“Certainly, I have. I’m terribly sorry, sir.”
Tazo went down the street, crossed it at the bottom, headed towards the little park and sat there on a bench. He felt sick and broken, as if several men had beaten him with heavy sticks. He glanced in the direction of the street. Every inch was familiar to him: balconies, windows, trees, the florist’s. He forgot that he hadn’t eaten anything since morning. But it was not hunger that made him so sick; it was something else he could not recall now.
He sat on the bench for a while. Then he stood up, turned up the collar of his overcoat, and walked down the street slowly, with an unsteady gait.
August 7, 2005
Town of Scardu, Pakistan.
BY AND BY
Datiko had been working as a forester for the last fifteen years. He was a forester and a huntsman, two in one. He rarely visited the village. There was a little hut at one side of the forest, and he stayed there. His house in the village stood closed and deserted. After his wife’s death, he preferred to live in the forest. Everything in the house reminded him of his deceased better half, Tina. They didn’t have any children, so he remained quite alone. He visited the village only twice or three-times a year, and stayed in the house for only a couple of days. Then he hurried back to the forest, to his actual home.
He got used to solitude. He even spoke to himself aloud, discussing some serious matters.
He kept a tiny animal farm near the hut, with the livestock of one cow, one horse, about twenty chicken and four hives of bees. The horse was his favorite, of course. He had a low-paid job, but he earned enough to buy some flour and sugar.