My Mother Is The Most Beautiful Woman In The World (1968)

[Music] [Applause] Once upon a time, long Long ago, Martha and Ivan had gone to the field. Arya was Martha's and Ivan's little girl, 6 years old. Her legs were so short she had to run to keep up with her father's long steps. Barachka, you are a little slowpoke, her father said. the hen, laughing loudly, he swung her up on his where she had to hold tight to vary to stay behind her father so he might have plenty of room to swing wide the newly sharpened side. Swish, swish, swish. Down came the wheat, faster and faster as he made his great strides. Barat held each bunch while her mother tied it. Today was the last day for gathering the wheat. Tomorrow the wagon would take it to the village. Tomorrow a wonderful feast day would come. And Bara could hardly wait. [Music] But to Varya, today seemed to be the longest and hottest day she had ever [Music] lived. Varya sat down by one of the stacks of wheat where it was cool and pleasant. "Oh, how lucky I am," she thought, "to be able to hide away from the hot sun. I will do this for just a few minutes." Soon Vaia grew sleepy and there with the pleasant smell of ripe wheat all around her she began to dream. She dreamed of the feast day. The feast always took place in the very heart of the village. Everybody was there. She dreamed of Tolia, the village leader who played the accordion. The minute his music started, the boys whistled, stamped their feet, and everybody clapped. Tolia stood in the center, all eyes upon [Music] him. Sing, sing, my friends. This is a holiday. The men and women danced as if they had wings that carried them swiftly by those that were watching. to Via. It seemed that the older girls flew by like birds in the wind. Around their necks were many strings of beads, all tied with trailing streamers of many colored ribbons. Varya kept asking her mother, "When am I going to have the beautiful dance costume with lots of beads?" And Vaia's mother would say, "When you are a grown-up young lady, Vaia." Always it seemed to Varyia she just could not wait until she was grown [Music] up. Suddenly Arif opened her eyes and found she had only been dreaming of the feast celebration. She jumped to her feet and started to run toward her mother. But her mother was nowhere in sight. [Music] Mama, mama, mamuchka. But there was no answer. Nowhere could she see her mother. When it was almost dark, Varia stumbled into a clearing where several men and women had paused to gossip after the day's work. It took her only a second to see that these were strangers. One of the men spied her and said in a booming voice, "Oh, look what we have here." Everyone turned to Varyia. "Oh, poor little thing. She is lost." But the sympathy and strange voices made Vio want her mother all the more. She could not help crying. "Little girl, little girl," they said. "What is your name?" Vary was too unhappy to answer. "I rock my mutka," she cried. "Well, uh who is your mama?" "My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world." All the men and women smiled. The tallest man told you. He said, "Aha, now we have something to go on." This was long, long ago when there were no telephones and no automobiles. So if people wanted to see each other, they went on their own two feet. Boys ran to village homes with orders to bring back the beautiful women. These were orders from Tolia, the village leader. All the women came running. As each beautiful woman came running up, mushing and proud that she had been so chosen, Tolia would say to her, "We have a little lost one here. Uh, stand back. Stand back, everyone, while the little one tells us if this is her mother. To Vaia, this was very serious, for she was lost and she was desperate without her mother. As she looked at each one, Bara shook her head in disappointment, and she sobbed harder. Soon, every known beauty from far and near had come and gone. Not one of them was by his mother. The villagers were really worried. They shook their heads. Tolia spoke for them. Well, you will have to take the little one home for the night. Tomorrow might bring some fresh wisdom to guide us. Just then, a breathless, excited woman came up to the crowd. Barachka cried this woman. Mama Muchka!" cried the little girl, and they fell into each other's arms. Varya cuddled into that ample and familiar bosom. The smile Varyia had longed for was once again shining upon her. All the villagers smiled thankfully when Varyia looked up and said with joy, "This This is my mother. I told you my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. The group of friends and neighbors too beamed upon each other as peted the proverb which little Varia had just proved. We do not love people because they are beautiful, but they seem beautiful to us because we love them. [Music]