In my group at the institute, boys and girls, different in their human properties, qualities and degree of influence on me, studied. I don't remember them often, but everything funny that happened to us in 5 young years amuses me even now.
In the very first year, the very first semester was attended by a southern man named Soso. He practically did not attend classes, and if he did, he slept sweetly under lulling lectures on sections of the natural sciences. To questions like "What's with him?" the answer was rumors of his daily (or rather nightly) hectic nightlife. Those who, like me, came to college right after school, listened to this gossip with careful respect and obvious recognition of his indisputable authority in this still unknown side of adult life.
Once we were all sent for a medical check-up. In the first-aid post, where we visited more than once later to get a certificate about the impossibility of attending classes, we were gathered to watch, listen to student organisms, and make sure of our ability to master metallurgical sciences. All were ordered to strip to the waist. Everyone began to unbutton their shirts, take off their sweaters and T-shirts ... Suddenly there was silence. Every movement froze. That which appeared before our immature minds neither before nor after did not appear to us in sensations. We just saw something that does not happen and can never be. And it was not a scarlet flower. It was Soso, naked to the waist. If you've ever seen a German Shepherd and maybe even stroked it on the back, then you can imagine it. Soso's chest and back were covered with wool, the thickness, color and all other hairdressing qualities that resembled the back of a German shepherd. Black with gray, growing upward ...
After the first winter session, Soso, who had never passed a single test or exam, left us. He also left this unforgettable mark in the memory of contemporaries, that undoubted miracle that appeared to us on that whitish late autumn rainy morning.
The striking character Vova Boreiko, whom the teacher of descriptive geometry immediately christened Hyperboreiko, was the bearer of such human qualities, and in their pure form, as naivety and kindness. He could believe any nonsense we could fantasize, amused by his uncomplicated credulity. After meeting with him at the institute a few years later, where I was carried with thoughts of graduate school, we got to talking: "How is life, work, family, children?" It turned out that he had already two boys, then I had one first daughter.
- Well, how do you deal with them? - I ask.
- It's very simple, I bought a trampoline, and now they wake up, have breakfast and on the trampoline, and so they jump until lunchtime, and then again on the trampoline.
“Great,” I approved of his educational strategy.
Many foreigners studied at our steel institute. Was among them and a number of Mongols. In some amazing way they changed from year to year. That is, in this semester, one is studying, and in the next semester, another one arrives. The famous story about one of them. At the beginning of the semester, the lecturer reads a magazine, gets to know the group. It comes to a Mongolian student named Altan Huyag. The teacher came to his last name and, hesitatingly, said: "But a friend from Mongolia ... uh, can I just call you Altan?" He gets up and says: "No, just call me Huyag."
Andrey studied in our group. Everyone called him no other than Andryusha. He looked like Rabbit from Khitrukovsky Winnie the Pooh. The same slender, long-tied, in the same glasses with blindness, freckles and a slightly open mouth. He studied well, diligently and diligently. It was impossible to hear a terrible obscenity from him and in general any verbal aggression, Of course, no tobacco, alcohol and bad deeds. He lived at home with his parents, did not go to the hostel and was in no hurry to acquire knowledge of life.
His first independent journey was a summer practice, where we went as a group. And so, once, being with our feet in a plant with a full metallurgical cycle, we came home, to the hostel where we were settled, and decided to paint a bullet, that is, to play preference. Andryusha was among the players. The game has gone, delivery-bribes-bribes-whists. And here Andryusha courageously orders "7 - no trump card!" ... with someone else's move. Who understands - he will gasp. The game was short-lived. Our would-be hero did not take a single bribe. Andrey had nothing to compare this blow of fate with. The stars above have faded, and at the same time all moral codes and guidelines were humiliatingly refuted ...
The ensuing silence was broken by Shura Omelin. He got up from the table, walked up to the numbed Andryusha from behind. With the words "Well, what are you, Futsya ..." Shura stroked Andryushka's curly head and gave a fatherly kiss to the very top.
And Life, which did not go for the future, had to go on ...
After defending our diplomas, we were sent to military camps for 3 months. Basically, it was all pretty interesting and fun. Tanks, cannons, shooting, outfits, the Volga bank, a great harvest of mushrooms, life in tents, soldier's tunics of the 1943 model, songs from which "the colonels blushed", the World Cup in snatches, AWOL, the arrival of a pregnant wife, again tanks, gas masks , guards, chloropicrin, outfits, outfits, guards and summer ... and all this together with our guys, with new and old friends.
Andryusha was given the service very hard. Each military action, whether it be a turn of the head at the command "R-equal!" or daytime standing under the fungus, a marching dashing step or aiming a machine gun at a probable "lanceup" - all this performed by our Andryusha, who was supposed to become a "threat of imperialism", looked extremely ridiculous, awkward and pathetic. The irritation of the commanders with this soldier was compensated by our care and tutelage of a comrade. He always got the tastiest ladle of porridge, an extra piece of sugar and all that. We slept in a tent next door. Andryushka got it here too. Despite his fragile appearance, he knew how to snore absolutely heroically. And at night he had to be shoved from all sides: “Andryusha, tram-your-mouse! Andryusha, it's good to start a motorcycle! Andryusha! .. "
But it all ends someday. Our camps are over, and with them our student time. Everyone returned home. A young wife and the imminent birth of my daughter were waiting for me.
But that's how it happens. One night, in bed with my then beloved woman, half asleep, I turn to her and, embracing, whisper tender "ANDRUSHA-A ..."
1982 - 2017