It is probably almost impossible to translate a film story which is about the soviet terror of Stalin's regime and of famous members of the Hungarian strata of intelligence. I still venture to try to transpose the atmosphere of the era to Western readers. If they understand or at least get a feeling of those unbearable years, I did something good for humanity.

The book therefore is not a word by word translation, but it is the English version of my "Kolja, a nép ellenségének fia".

I did not believe for a single moment that this story may become a film or performed on a scene in my little homeland. Though two characters of the playwright were victims of two communist systems, the main figure, Kolja lived in the Soviet Union the horrible life of "son of people's enemy" and myself, who got just a small slap from the regime, the book does not intend to nurture hatred between nations and systems, but is trying to help us to forget, to reconcile. And this is an unacceptable attempt in Hungary.

In June 1956 I was returning from Moscow to spend my yearly vacation at home, when a handsome young man opened the door of my double coupe. He politely introduced himself as Kovács, Nikolai Nikolaevich. He turned out to be the son of one of the leaders of the Hungarian Commune of 1919. His father escaped after the defeat of this short-lived regime to Paris, where Kolja was borne. They soon relocated to Moscow to build the father's dream, communism. Kovács – along with 60 other leaders of the Commune – was shot by Stalin's dogs. Kolja's mother escaped, having Austrian passport, but could not take her son with herself. He remained in Moscow. A Russian woman, taking upon herself incredible sacrifice brought him up, defying the terrible stamp that the system baked on Kolja: "son of people's enemy".

After our arrival to his original homeland I was acting as interpreter between mother and child. Thus came into contact with his step-father, Béni Ferenczy, and his circle. The company of the great artist: young poets, Lajos Hatvany and Imre Nagy, who was later martyred, meant delightful, tremendous experience for me. The poets represented opposite political poles, but still peace reigned in their hearts.

This is how my story starts.