My childhood, lived under the shadow of the Cold War, was marked by anxieties over nuclear conflict and intense ideological indoctrination from both the East and the West in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Fortunately, those tensions were largely absorbed by our elders, not by us. Instead, I remember how we immersed ourselves in the writings of some of the great Soviet authors, which helped develop our mental faculties at a very formative age.
I would collect magazines such as Soviet Nari, Soviet Desh, and Udayan from a neighbourhood library. They were a class apart—rich in stories, unforgettable illustrations, and striking photographs. Master storytellers Anton Chekhov and Lev Tolstoy were among our first after-school reads. Other greats such as Dostoevsky, Gogol, and Gorky—all towering figures in Russian literature—entered our lives gradually over time.
I was keen to find opportunities to connect with anything related to these literary giants, especially Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, during a visit to Moscow in late autumn 2014. One day, as I explored the city—on foot and by hopping on and off different subway lines—I ventured farther from my hotel, Novotel Moscow City, only to find myself standing in the shadow of a larger-than-life statue of Dostoevsky. I had not known that a prominent bronze statue of Fyodor Dostoevsky stood on Mokhovaya Street, and discovering it there was a moment of great joy for me.
As I walked past the area, I was admiring the grand building of the Russian State Library (formerly the Lenin Library) when, moments later, a bronze statue of Dostoevsky—seated on a bench in a contemplative pose, his hands resting on his lap—caught my eye. The statue was erected in 1997 as part of the city-wide celebrations marking Moscow’s 850th anniversary.
Perhaps the most fascinating part of my Moscow journey was visiting the former city residence of Lev Tolstoy, now preserved as the Lev Tolstoy Estate-Museum at Khamovniki. Khamovniki is a central district of Moscow, situated southwest of the city centre and south of the Arbat District, within a curve of the Moskva River.
Located on a street now named after him, the house was purchased by Tolstoy in 1882 at the insistence of his wife, who wanted better schooling opportunities for their children in Moscow. It is said that after acquiring the house, Tolstoy spent every winter there until 1901, while continuing to spend his summers at his ancestral estate in Yasnaya Polyana, about 200 kilometres from Moscow. I wish I could also visit Yasnaya Polyana, now a museum as well—the place where Tolstoy wrote War and Peace and Anna Karenina, and where he is laid to rest.
The Tolstoy house I visited is a 19th-century estate featuring a beautiful wooden residential building, a courtyard garden, and a life-size statue of Tolstoy. By the time I collected my ticket and entered the estate-turned-museum, daylight was already fading under an overcast sky. It was late in the day, and there was likely little time left before closing. Thankfully, a kind attendant switched on the lights inside and ushered me into a warmly inviting space, filled with historic photographs and artefacts related to Tolstoy, his family, and his work.
To me, the place felt deeply connected to the central theme of Anna Karenina—love. There was something profoundly moving about the Lev Tolstoy Estate-Museum in Moscow. One of its most remarkable aspects is that the interior has been restored to reflect how it looked during Tolstoy’s lifetime. I admired the rich displays of family photographs, sculptures, furniture, paintings, graphic works, and decorative art.
Museum staff told me that the estate houses more than 5,000 items belonging to the Tolstoy family. One photograph in particular struck me: Lev Tolstoy surrounded by his extended family, captured in a single frame. It was taken around 1900 by Karl Karlovich Bulla (also known as Carl Oswald Bulla), widely regarded as the father of Russian photojournalism.
As I took a few photographs of my own, I found myself absorbed in the thought that this was the very house where the great wordsmith penned works such as The Death of Ivan Ilyich, Resurrection, The Power of Darkness, What Is My Faith, and The Fruits of Enlightenment, among others.
During Tolstoy’s time, the Khamovniki house was one of the centres of cultural life in Moscow and Russia. It welcomed many distinguished guests, including the young Sergei Rachmaninov, who played the piano and once accompanied Chaliapin’s singing; the artist Ilya Repin, whose portrait of Tatyana, Tolstoy’s daughter, hangs in one of the rooms; and Maxim Gorky, who frequently visited and played chess with Tolstoy. Anton Chekhov also visited him here.
With its green courtyard and wooden structures, the museum feels like a quiet corner of rural charm in the heart of Moscow. Tolstoy’s Moscow estate carries an atmosphere that feels as though his spirit still lingers within its walls.
I left the museum that autumn day with a deep sense of fulfilment, having seen up close the artefacts of a master storyteller whose works give voice to some of humanity’s deepest reflections. A meaningful life, lived authentically with love and compassion rather than an exclusive focus on career, status, and material possessions—is that not the central message of Tolstoy’s novella The Death of Ivan Ilyich, one of my personal favourites?