It is hard to say what these two people (my mother on the right and my father on the left) were feeling in this moment. My father was about 3 years old, when grandpa was put to jail. Together with his mother and one of three elder sisters they were routed out from their apartment into a small beggars' yurta in the city suburbs where neighbors were making bets whether the three newcomers would stay alive through the -40 winter freeze. The boy could not even play outside yurta, as he did not have even a pair of shoes... His mother was constantly called to the police station for interrogations, being announced for several times that her husband had already been executed. In fact, Rinchen was finally spared only because there were no other educated Mongolians left by the Mongolian Stalinists who would be able to translate Soviet dispatches during the common war against Japan... My mother remembers Rinchen from the times when she followed her husband to Mongolia and lived with grandpa in the same apartment or later in the neighborhood. She and my grandpa became close friends and she could witness for the rest of his life all the denunciations, intrigues and envy which acolytes of the communist regime were following him with. Even a scientific carrier of her own husband has for decades been seriously disturbed by political harassment.