She is called Babusya by her grandchildren whom she looks after in a house by a lake while their parents, conductors on long-distance trains, earn their living away from home. Time passes and granny sells the house so that her grandsons can start up businesses. She moves to the city with her daughter and son-in-law and, when her daughter dies, the son-in-law takes her to live with her sister in the country... The old women’s idyllic coexistence is then disrupted by another misfortune. The sister breaks her leg and her daughter, a well-known television reporter, places her in hospital. She then tries to get the son-in-law to take Granny in but he has now found himself another woman. Nor is there room for her at the house of her executive grandson, so she ends up renting a room with her other grandson who has fled the warring Caucasus region with his wife and mute daughter… Granny suffers the blows of fate with divine humility, without reproach or bitterness. She has lived an honest life, and the modern pursuit of money, pleasure and superficial entertainment which has stifled all traces of love and compassion, does not concern her. She is merely a wayfarer in this world, listening to the voice of her angel.