#kato svanidze

[thespoliarium]

November 22: On this day in 2011, Svetlana Alliluyeva died at the age of 85.

She was born on the 28th of February 1926. Her father was Joseph Stalin, and her mother was Nadezhda Alliluyeva, Stalin's second wife (after Kato Svanidze). She has an older brother named Vasily, and an older half-brother from Stalin's first marriage, named Yakov. Yakov was neglected by Stalin when he was captured by the Nazi soldiers during WWII.

Everything went downhill for Stalin's family life in 1932. Around the early morning of November 9, Nadezhda shot herself with a pistol given to her by her brother, Pavel Alliluyev. This was because she and Stalin had a fight during a party in the Voroshilovs' residence. She was humiliated by Stalin at the table. He called out to her, "Hey you! Why are you not drinking? Have a drink!" to which she responded, "My name is not hey!" and exited. The last person to see her and walk with her was Polina Zhemchuzhina, Vyacheslav Molotov's wife.

Suicide was considered an act of treason in the Soviet Union, so her cause of death was faked. Everyone was told that Nadezhda died of appendicitis. Everyone was fooled, even Svetlana was told about this up until she learned the truth when she was a teenager.

Svetlana was a daddy's girl up until that moment. She attended his funeral in 1953, however.

In 1967, she decided to defect to the United States of America, as well as living a life there. Take note that this was during the Cold War, so the tensions between the USA and the USSR were high.

She lived in the USA as Lana Peters, and she was survived by her daughter Olga Peters, through her marriage with Wesley Peters, as well as her children in the Soviet Union from her previous marriages.

She has written books; her memoirs are entitled "Twenty Letters to a Friend," and "Only One Year."

This is Svetlana's last letter to her daughter, Olga:

[famousinuniverse]

Joseph Stalin

Former Premier of the Soviet Union

Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin was a Soviet revolutionary and politician who was the leader of the Soviet Union from 1924 until his death in 1953. He held power as General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the Soviet Union. 

Born: Gori, Georgia

Died: March 5, 1953, Kuntsevo Dacha

Children: Vasily Stalin, Svetlana Alliluyeva, Yakov Dzhugashvili, MORE

Spouse: Nadezhda Alliluyeva (m. 1919–1932), Kato Svanidze (m. 1906–1907)

Grandchildren: Chrese Evans, Alexander Burdonsky, MORE

Full name: Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin

Party: Communist Party of the Soviet Union

Someone called Joseph Stalin “Joey”.

[forgotten-or-unknown-truestories]

Heart of stone

Joseph Stalin was a very harsh leader. Despite gaining the love and respect from Russia, he did many heartless deeds.

However, there was one person in the world, he loved. Sadly, her life was cut short and left a mark in Russian history forever.  

Her name was Kato Svanidze, and Stalin fell madly in love with her.

Stalin's friend,Mikheil "Misha" Monaselidze, stated:

"I was amazed how Soso (Stalin), who was so severe in his work and to his comrades, could be so tender, affectionate and attentive to his wife."

The happiness would not last. After giving birth to her and Stalin's son, Yakov Dzhugashvili, she contracted typhus and passed away on Decemeber 5, 1907.  

Her death forever changed Stalin, and not for the better.

At her funeral, he stated:

"This creature softened my heart of stone. She died and with her died my last warm feelings for humanity."

Kato died at the age of twenty-two, and is buried in Kukia cemetery next to Saint Nino's Church in Tiflis.

[areallyshittywriter]

Death Certificate

It was bright and cold. The sky wavered a dark mystic blue, with children of grinning stars shining brightly in its darkness. The wind was carrying newborn snow to the parents below, but never once ever howling in complaint. It had not a hint of human impurity, not even a breath in the sky. It was simply heavenly.

This only lasted of course, until a scruffy, thin, senile man scorched the soundless peace, with his ragged breaths and limping strides. Every wisp of his grumpy mumbling, creating a vivid cut in the air. Every inconsistent grunt felt like a lobotomy with a sharp ended stick. And every sight I took of him being a waste of a memory and a waste of time. He took his time, dragging himself from the misty abyss of the forest.

I could feel the length of my finger begin to tap mercilessly against the dark crusted parasol. Silver rusted flakes were cracking and falling against the snow, bringing another wave of heat to reverberate along my crooked bones.

“Would you please hurry up? It takes time for nature to clean up the contamination you’re polluting,” an evident coldness, leaked from my lips.

It took the goat a further 357 seconds before he finally reached a metre apart from me. Even then, I still took a step back from him; “How strange it is, that your filthy race has managed to charge straight through nature’s innocence, and still it took you 23 minutes to climb a measly slanted hill.” 

Only a gruff was his response. His gaze never reached my own; the only pleasing thing about this occasion.

“To think this would be added to an eternal list of failures, Eric Blair. Or would you prefer I call you George Orwell?” Malice and stillness were left in my words.

The man froze silent. Even his deeds and actions cannot be concealed to my omniscient species. It is vital to know everything when coming to a conclusive judgement. Actions will reveal intent. Intent creates judgement. Simple.

“Tell me, George; why did you keep your books to yourself for all these years? Surely, someone would’ve read them?” 

He took a deep breath and sighed, wiping the icy sweat from his rotting hands. 

His croak, weak against the wind, “they would never be goin’ anywhere. The books. They were only an out, from this godforsaken world.”

How, ironic. 

“Hmm, well let’s continue this discussion. The snow can only fall for so long before it touches the ground.” I began reading,

Death Certificate

Eric Arthur Blair

Date:  June 8th1984

This is to certify that the records in my office show that Mr Blair, 

Died at 7:30am on 8th Day of June 1984

That day was the official declaration of Stalin’s kingship over the world. No government had managed to prevent his dictatorship, nor any future ones. With the books kindled in fire, no one will ever achieve the ability of intellect, to fight his ruling. I could feel the second wave of heat roll over me as my tapping commenced again.

“That was a Friday. It seems you couldn’t even make it to the weekend.” There was no cover of the harshness in my voice. And still, the geezer ignored my comments and continued his sadistic stroll. I continued;

Gender: Male

Age:    47

Cause of Death: 

“Oh that'll be interesting” 

Injuries. This includes the carving and removal of the corpus unguis, cutting needles puncturing the retina and internal ear area and repeated fisted blows to the frontal lobe. Ultimately, created breakage in the cranium, acute deafness and blindness in the left eye, thus resulting in death.

There wasn’t an ounce of surprise within his eyes, let alone soul. How disappointing. Fortunately, though, I am aware of everything that occurred after the death. And I must say, it was absolutely barbarous; lucky me.

“My oh my, it seems we’ve forgotten a few very crucial and interesting details, my dear Eric.” 

The decaying goof discarded my comment and continued his striding destruction of baby snow. Even so, I’ve learnt how to pull the shakiness and tears from any pathetic human soul, so I continued my unsparing talk;

“The certificate has seemingly never stated what happened after your death! What a shame, since you never got to find out. Well, I guess I could always do a small favour and simply just add it in, can’t I?”

After death, the corpse was then taken to a guillotine to have the head sliced from the lower body. 

“Well, it stills seems quite connected to me”

The corpse was then dowsed in octane and was set ablaze with phosphorous sulphide. 

The corpse was burnt to a point of unrecognition along with a wide collection of books. 

Finally, I got him.

His treachery upon the land had seized, along with his mumbles and grunts. His burnt brown eyes were glazed in a fear so indescribably amazing, that I couldn’t help myself but grin.

There is a rule amongst my kind that we could never take pleasure in the sufferings of tyrannical beasts. However, knowing how fully capable this monster had in completely altering reality, just with a single stroke of a pen, was collapsing in the chains of fear. Well, I couldn’t help the laughter that overtook me. Especially when his lifeless grasp went to touch the very place his own kind, own friends tried to cut from him.

Although, he simply closed his eyes, took a deep breath and continued walking. As if it didn’t matter to him. Disturbing. Even after death, he can continue to accept his pitiful existence. Monotonous, I finished the last disastrous parts of the certificate. 

Occupation(s): 

Author, Novelist, Current Affairs Writer, Bookseller, Screenwriter, Literary Critic, Poet, Essayist

Marital Status: 

Married to Eileen O’Shaughnessy

Witness:

Joseph Stalin, Nadezhda Alliluyeva, Kato Svanidze, Winston Smith, Emmanuel Goldstein, Keke Geladze,….  

“…basically, the entirety of Russia”.  

It was here where I finally halted. The certificate was finished, and his final moments were known to him. That is the job I own; to bring the knowledge of the final moments of the deceased to light, and to make a judgement.

Eric Blair is a special exception, however. There’s a peculiar complication of his intentions about his books. Although, a verbal recognition intent has never concerned me. Actions will always reveal intent.

Eric had turned quietly to meet my gaze.

His voice was cutting and yet somewhat like a cold croak, “I guess this is the end then”

Well, to a usual one of my species, he would be right. However, “No, it isn’t”.

 His eyes were sinking heavy and an abyss of mist swirled amongst the forest. My final torment would have to be quick.

“Mr Blair I’m afraid I have never informed you of what my species is”

Callous, he spoke, “I already know. Your somethin’ like death, or like a Grim Reaper”

“Yes, I guess in a sense. Except my species can do something yours still tries to grasp an understanding of. You see we reap the lives of not just your people, but people in other timelines as well.” 

The mist began to crawl and cling to edges of brown-skinned boots. Grasping and rising like the dead gripping to their mortality. Time was dwindling.

“I hope you understand well when I say that there is a reality where you actually published your books. And those very same books could’ve prevented the creation of your timeline.”

A living and breathing boil was breaking from its cavity within me. Glazing my cool bones in shakiness and heat, blistering an irritation that rivalled natures quakes. The gruelling fog began its pace, growing and falling in rhythmic tides, encircling its victim within. However, that never pulled away the attention of the monster from me. His eyes were locked and wet, awaiting his sentence.

“To put it simply,…”

Finally.

“You are the reason that civilisation crumbled. You kept your revolutionary words tucked away, like children. And just like that, you had allowed Stalin to rule a world, that’s unrulable. You caused the destruction of your timeline…”

The white cool mist began to mature into a black swirl of darkness, gradually picking up speed as enclosed the monster into a tight ring. His mudded wet eyes wandered in circles, as he inevitably realised his end was soon. Even so, the beastly Blair had grasped every drop of my bloodless confrontations;

“..All because you were simply too weak, too afraid to have any remote strength. You clung lonely to your books. You hid them from the world. You took knowledge from what could’ve saved the very few innocent people living. You are what all the demons in hell revere.”

The mist was cold and dark, raging like a wildfire around the decaying skin of Blair. Shapes of burnt cracked skinned hands clung to his arms and dragged him into the pulsating heart of darkness. Dragging him into the cold clutches of demons and villains below, where nature will never come to free him from the depths of his sins.

“And that is my judgement”.

So you’ve read my horrible writing. Congrats. It’s only going to get shitter from here. Please give some feedback tho

[aiiaiiiyo]

Young Joseph Stalin (on the right, then called Ioseb Jughashvili) at the funeral for his first wife Kato Svanidze - 1907 [960 × 705] Check this blog!

[culturizando]

La mujer que conoció el lado tierno de Joseph Stalin

Conocido por su carácter dictatorial es difícil imaginarlo enamorado, pero una mujer logró llegar a su coraz��n y cambiar completamente su perspectiva del amor, convirtiéndose así en el eterno amor de su vida.

¿Quién fue Kato Svanidze?

Ketevan Svanidze (1885-1907) fue una mujer rusa conocida por ser la primera esposa del presidente Joseph Stalin, era  educada y de carácter muy tranquilo que trabajaba como diseñadora y costurera para un famoso atelier de belleza que servía a las fuerzas armadas y a la realeza.

  ¿Cómo inició el amor entre Stalin y Svanidze?

La relación entre ambos tuvo un inicio bastante particular: el joven Joseph Stalin era muy conflictivo y se metía en constantes problemas por pequeños robos y asuntos de drogas, el papá de Ketevan decidió adoptarlo para evitar que continuara en malos pasos y  terminó por hacerse cargo de él.

Cuando Stalin se muda a la casa de los Svanidze, se enamora completamente de Ketevan y ambos iniciaron una relación muy estrecha. “Ella estaba completamente fascinada por él y sus ideas encantadoras. Lo adoraba” recuerda Monaselidze, su cuñado.

Un matrimonio en secreto

Los jóvenes enamorados decidieron casarse, a pesar de que Stalin era ateo, accedió casarse por la iglesia y después de convencer a un sacerdote, efectuaron la ceremonia un 29 de julio de 1906 a las 2 a.m. en la Catedral de San David, acudieron únicamente los familiares y amigos más cercanos de ambos.

Pese a la diferencia de caracteres, los jóvenes estaban muy enamorados, su cuñado recuerda: “Estaba sorprendido sobre cómo Stalin que era tan severo en su trabajo y tan fuerte con sus colegas, podía ser tan dulce, cariñoso y atento con su esposa.”

  Una terrible ola de mala suerte desvanece la felicidad

El matrimonio se llevaba excelente, ya tenían un pequeño niño llamado Yakov Iosifovich Jugashvili, y todo marchaba de maravilla, el amor de Stalin por su esposa aumentó enormemente después del nacimiento de su hijo.

En Agosto de 1907, Stalin viajó a Alemania para un importante congreso socialista y en ese momento Ketevan enfermó, su cuñado escribe:

“Stalin salía muy temprano en la mañana y regresaba muy tarde en la noche mientras que su esposa pasaba todo el día preocupada temiendo que lo arrestaran. La preocupación, más una mala dieta, pocas horas de sueño al día y el calor, la debilitaron y se enfermó. Lamentablemente no tenía nadie cercano que la cuidara y su esposo estaba tan ocupado con el trabajo que olvidó a su familia.”

La familia de Ketevan se enteró de su enfermedad y suplicó a Stalin que la llevara a su casa para cuidarla, él no acudió a su ayuda hasta que se dio cuenta que su esposa estaba cada vez peor y decidió llevarla, durante el viaje empeoró notablemente y murió en los brazos de Stalin un 5 de diciembre de 1907. Se presume que estaba enferma de Tifus pero otros historiadores dicen que murió de tuberculosis.

  Un amor imposible de olvidar

Después de la muerte de su esposa, Stalin se sumergió en una terrible depresión y en su funeral, dijo : “Esta mujer suavizó mi corazón de piedra y con ella murieron mis últimos sentimientos positivos por la humanidad”, pese a que se casó nuevamente y tuvo otros hijos, su primer y único amor verdadero fue Ketevan.

El amor de Stalin por su esposa fue tal, que le confesó a su hija menor Svetlana Alliluyeva, que Ketevan fue “Muy dulce y hermosa, ella derritió mi corazón.”

Por Mary Villarroel Sneshko | @Vivodesorpresas | Culturizando Con información de Executed Today

La entrada La mujer que conoció el lado tierno de Joseph Stalin aparece primero en culturizando.com | Alimenta tu Mente.

[pesterkot]

Hello Kato Svanidze 🇬🇪💕🌹

Hi Daddy Koba 💍💋

[alliluyevas]

Also Montefiore calls Nadya Alliluyeva “not conventionally attractive” but repeatedly calls Kato Svanidze “pretty” despite them looking weirdly similar like. Have you got eyes?

Pretzels is the same!

I don’t even WANT to know what Simon Montefiore would have to say about Nadya Krupskaya so thank god he hasn’t gone there and has stuck to a slightly later period