During the Cold War, the Soviet Union and India enjoyed a particularly friendly relationship as they shared ideological common ground. Tsarist Russia had long supported anti-British movements, having its own colonial ambitions in the region. After 1917, the Soviet Union increased its presence in India through Communist ideology, and according to one interpretation, the Communist Party of India (CPI) was actually established in Tashkent in 1920. Cover of a 1953 edition of the iconic children story Moydodyr by Korney Chukovsky, which was first published by Lev Klyachko in the 1920s in his Raduga publishing house. Photo by Filip Noubel, used with permission. Up until its demise in 1991, the Soviet Union supported the translation, and distribution of Russian and Soviet literature that influenced generations of Indian children and intellectuals. This Russia-India relationship is the central plot of Shumona Sinha latest book, “Le Testament Russe” (The Russian Will). Like many of her peers, Sinha grew up in Kolkata reading those same novels. She eventually moved to France, and became an acclaimed exophonic writer — or a writer that produces work in their non-native language. “Le Testament Russe” centers around Tania, a young Bengali girl living in 1980s Kolkata. The heroine escapes her social and family background by joining the local Communist student movement, and eventually studying Russian. But her real inspiration is Lev Klyachko, the Jewish-Russian journalist who decided to become a publisher in the 20s, launched the politically independent publishing house Raduga, worked with the luminaries of Russian literature and art such as Korney Chukovsky, Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin but was eventually censored and died in 1933. GV author Filip Noubel interviewed Shumona Sinha to find out more about how Soviet children books shaped her own journey through languages, cultures and identities. The interview was edited for brevity. Filip Noubel (FN): In your latest novel, you explore the ties – some of them going back to the 18th century – that have linked Russia and the Soviet Union to Bengal through ideology and children books in translation. Could you tell us more about this heritage? Was it also your experience when you grew up in Kolkata? Shumona Sinha (SS) L’héritage de la littérature russe au Bengale occidental crée le cadre de mon roman, oui. Beaucoup de Bengalis qui possèdent une collection de livres chez eux, ont un rayon russe. Les livres russes et soviétiques ont joué un rôle important et pourtant délicat, ont influencé les pensées de tant de Bengalis, façonné leur regard sur la vie. Non seulement les classiques mais aussi les auteurs de la jeunesse comme Nicolaï Ostrovski, Arkadi Gaïdar, Dmitri Mamine Sibiriak, Boris Polevoï… C’était pareil chez moi. D’autant que mon père était économiste, professeur d’économie à l’institut équivalent de Science-Po, marxiste et leader communiste des années 1970. Il a failli être assassiné par les hommes de main d’Indira Gandhi. C’est d’ailleurs le sujet de mon troisième roman Calcutta. J’ai grandi avec les livres russes. Mes premiers contes de fées étaient russes, et non bengalis. C’est pourquoi j’ai été éprise de Kliatchko ! En fouillant dans les archives on trouve sa trace, mais rien n’a été écrit sur lui depuis sa mort, personne n’a contacté sa famille. Trouver leur trace et raconter cette histoire était une noyade voluptueuse pour moi. (SS) Indeed the frame of my book is created by the heritage of Russian literature in West Bengal. Many Bengalis who own books have a shelf of Russian books. Russian and Soviet books played a key and delicate role, and have influenced the thinking of so many Bengalis, shaped their take on life. Not just the classics, but also authors of children literature, such as Nikolay Ostrovsky, Arkady Gaydar, Dmitri Mamin-Sibiryak, Boris Polevoy…It was the same in my home. Besides, my father was an economist, teaching that subject, and a Marxist as well as a Communist leader in the 1970s. He almost got killed by Indira Gandhi's henchmen. This is actually the topic of my third novel called “Calcutta”. I grew up with Russian books. My first fairy tales were Russian, and not Bengali. This is why I fell in love with Klyachko! By digging in archives, one can find his trail, but nothing has been written about him since his death, no one contacted his family. To find them and to tell that story gave me a voluptuous feeling of drowning. SS: La scène d’autodafé de mon roman est imaginaire. La vente libre de Mein Kampf, le fait qu’il soit un best-seller en Inde, surtout parmi les jeunes, m’ont révoltée.