Cries of Joy

Arpi Vanyan

The attached is the first personal account I read a short while ago of what transpired on May 8 and 9, 1992 in Artsakh. Apri Vanyan had posted it on her page. I took the liberty of translating it. The original posting is attached. Vahe H. Apelian

 

Twenty-eight years ago, this day (May 9^th) remains etched in my soul. During the night of May 8 and the following morning, we could not get out even for a minute from our dark and humid cellar. My father was on the war front, I was a still a child, my young mother and my young sister were in the cellar, as well.  

The enemy had gotten wild that day and was unleashing its fury with all kinds of armaments he possessed and with all its probable and improbable methods and was bombarding Artsakh and especially the town of Hadrut.  We understood nothing as to what was going on and why such a fury?

May 9^th was my mother’s birthday. We could not even open the door of the cellar and get out to congratulate her on that occasion, which was dear to us, with tea and simple cookie.

It was the second half of the day when we heard cries from the street. Somehow we managed to have a  look outside and saw one of our neighbors, who regretfully was martyred later on, coming down the street, shouting in jubilation with open arms. We did not understand what he was saying, we remained afraid. But as he got closer, it became clear to us that he was saying “Shushi is liberated !”. He was shouting and he was also crying. We stood still. We could not believe what we heard. Soon after the grown ups started crying loudly. We also participated in this widespread cry of jubilation and of the thankfulness that heralded our freedom, our deliverance, our collective victory, our right to live. Words are not enough to describe our emotions.

Years have gone by and I remember that day with joyful remembrance  because it was also the birthday of my prematurely dead mother. From 1992 and on, in our home, we celebrate that day with a joyful remembrance.  My mother is now in heaven, but the celebration has remained the same for me, congratulating her on her birthday. My mother is my identity, she is the path I have crossed, she is my timeless want. She is my pain, my love, and the heightened goal I must reach.

My Artsakh, my mother, my fatherland, and our mighty army…

28 տարի առաջ այս օրը դաջվել ու մնացել է իմ հոգում: Մայիսի 8-ի գիշերն ու հաջորդ օրվա ցերեկը, մենք մեկ րոպե անգամչկարողացանք դուրս գալ մեր մութ ու խոնավ նկուղից: Հադրութում էինք: Հայրս պատերազմի դաշտում էր, ես՝ տակավինաղջնակ, երիտասարդ մայրս ու մանկահասակ քույրս՝ նկուղում: Այդ օրը հակառակորդը կատաղել էր և իր ունեցած ողջզինատեսակով, բոլոր հնարավոր ու անհնար մեթոդներով ռմբակոծում էր Արցախն ու կոնկրետ Հարդութ քաղաքը: Ոչինչ չէինքհասկանում: Ի՞նչ է կատարվում, ինչու՞ է այս աստիճանի ագրեսիվ: 

Մայիսի 9-ը մայրիկիս ծննդյան օրն է: Չկարողացանք անգամ բացել նկուղի դուռը, դուրս գալ, որ մի բաժակ թեյ ու դոշաբի շուրջշնորհավորեինք մեզ համար թանկ այդ օրը: 

...Օրվա երկրորդ կեսն էր, փողոցից գոռոցներ լսեցինք: Մի կերպ գլուխներս դուրս հանեցինք նկուղներից ու տեսանք, որ մերհարևաններից մեկը /ով հետագայում նույնպես, ցավոք, զոհվեց/ ուրախությունից գոռալով, ձեռքերն առաջ պարզած՝ գալիս է: Ոչինչ չէինք հասկանում: Բոլորս վախեցանք: ՈՒ որքան մոտենում էր նա, այնքան պարզորոշ էր դառնում ասածը՝Շուշի՜ն...Շուշին ազատագրվե՜լ է... գոռում ու լացում էր նա: Ասես քարացել էինք, չէինք հավատում մեր լսածին: Հետո մեծերըսկսեցին բարձրաձայն լացել, մենք էլ միացանք համընդհանուր այդ լացին, ուրախությանը, գոչյուններին, օրհնանքներին: Դա...Դա ազատություն էր, փրկություն, բերկրանք, դա մեր միասնական հաղթանակն էր, մեր ապրելու իրավունքը: Բառերս չենհերիքում, որ նկարագրեմ :

..... Տարիներ են անցել.. ամեն անգամ այս օրը ես նշում եմ որպես քառատոն, որովհետև վաղամեռիկ մայրիկիս ծննդյան օրն էնաև: 1992-թվականից սկսած մեր տանը , մենք այդ օրը որպես քառատոն էինք նշում: Մայրս հիմա երկնքում է, բայց տոնն ինձհամար մնացել է նույնը՝ Շնորհավոր ծննդյանդ օրը, մամաս, իմ ինքնություն, իմ անցած ճանապարհ, իմ անանց կարոտ, իմ ցավ, իմ սեր, իմ բարձունք որին պետք է հասնել: 

Իմ Արցախ, իմ մայրիկ, իմ հայրենիք, մեր հզոր բանակ...

UNFOUNDED OUTCRY

Vahe H. Apelian

In my blog regarding installing a statue of Mahatma Gandhi in Yerevan, I had noted the following: “Throughout my penning in my blog, I have steered away from making commentaries that may come across polarizing in nature. The 283 posted blogs attest to that. Most of my blogs are originals. They are my own. But I have also translated many stories that I thought shed light on our history which otherwise might not have been accessible to my English reading audience. The primary language of my blog is English. This blog will be an exception.”

And exception it became with almost hysterical and unfounded outcry against the government of Armenia for having accepted the Indian government’s proposal to have a statue of Mahatma Gandhi installed in Yerevan which the municipality of Yerevan has agreed to do and have the statue installed in Armenia’s capital city, Yerevan.

I make no biblical reference but allude to the common parlance that “no man is a prophet in his own country” and surely Mahatma Gandhi is not in his own country. But yet again he is generally accepted to be the father of passive resistance. I quote Wikipedia “passive resistance. passive resistance A tactic of non-violent resistance to authority pioneered by Mahatma Gandhi in his campaign against the British government in India in the 1930s and 1940s. Passive resistance has since become an accepted way for minorities to place moral pressure on majorities.”  I am no social scientist so I invite those who have expertise in the matter to refute what is generally accepted to be the case regarding Mahatma Gandhi, that Martin Luther King Jr. based the Civil Rights movement he led on such a principal; so did Nelson Mandela and Archbishop Tutu led their movement that ended apartheid in South Africa.

As to a statue of Mahatma Gandhi, I quote Wikipedia to note that: “In the United States, there is a statue of Gandhi outside the Union Square Park in New York City, and the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site in Atlanta, and a Mahatma Gandhi Memorial on Massachusetts avenue in Washington, D.C.  near the Indian Embassy. There is a Gandhi statue  in San Francisco Embarcadero Neighborhood. In 2009, a statue of Gandhi was installed outside the Bellevue Library in Washington state.”.  

As a further note from Wikipedia again, there is a statue in Brisbane, Australia, Dushanbe, Tajikistan, Burgos, Spain, Beijing, China, Johannesburg, South Africa, and list goes on.

A statue of Mahatma Gandhi in Yerevan, surely would not be looked out of place.

As to Armenian Indian relations, I would like to bring to the attention of interested readers that  during the last few years I have read several authoritative articles in keghart.com about the Armenian presence in India by Liz Chater, who is an authority on the presence of Armenians on the historic Indian subcontinent. I invite interested readers to visit Keghart.com and type her name in the search and read the informed articles she wrote about the presence of Armenians in Indiat, that continues to this day where prominently stands, I quote her “ the Armenian College and Philanthropic Academy (ACPA) of Kolkata (formerly Calcutta)” that celebrated in 2016, its 195^th year, "honouring founder Arratoon Kaloos, financial supporter Sir Paul Chater, and six former students who left their mark on the Far East business life and on the Armenian Diaspora.” Armenian students from Diaspora continue to study there.

For my contemporaries growing in the close-knit Armenian community in Lebanon and attending Armenian schools, the following were fairly known. I quote Wikipedia to substantiate what I had accepted to be true.

        “Under the shade of frangipani trees in the quiet garden of Chennai’s 245-year-old Armenian Church is a grave decorated with an open book. Engraved on the book in block letters is the word “Azdarar”, which means “The Intelligencer” in Armenian. This was the first Armenian journal in the world, published in Madras in the year 1794, when the merchant community from the mountainous, Eurasian country was thriving in the city. The grave belongs to Reverend Haruthium Shmavonian (1750-1824), who was the editor and founder of Azdarar, hailed as the Father of Armenian Journalism. Shmavonian was born in Shiraz, a cultural hub in Iran. After the sudden death of his two sons, Shmavonian moved away from the crowded city to study Persian, which he ultimately mastered. His later voyages led him to settle down as a priest in Old Madras, where he eventually began the journal Azdarar on October 28, 1794 publishing business and world news in Armenian for the settlers in Madras.” Yes, the first Armenian journal was printed in India.

The great Armenian sea faring merchants were based in the city of Madras, the present Chenai. As a testament of their prominence to this day stands “Armenian Street, locally known as Aranmanaikaran Street, is one of the historical streets of the commercial centre of George Town, in Chennai, India” .

It is fascinating to read  that  “The little known Armenian constitution was titled Vorogayt Parats and Nshavak – “Snare of Glory” and “Target” – which were volumes that represent some of the very earliest modern constitutional political writing in the world. Authored and published by Shahamir Shahamirian in his printing house in Madras (India) where he settled as a merchant among a small Armenian community of India.” The printing of this constitution took place in 1773. 

No, I am not going to bother the esteemed readers with tidbits such as the ones I quoted. Those interested to read about the few century old presence of the Armenians in India, may do so by purchasing the following book “Armenians in India, from the earliest times to the present day: A work of original research”. The book is written by Mesrovb Jacob Seth. It is printed on January 1, 1983. The book is 629 pages long. Amazon.com claims that it has only one copy left and it retails  for $935.25. No, I do not have a copy and yes, I have not read the book.

To the person who cynically questioned me if I am a member of Yerevan Municipality for standing by its decision to have a statue of Gandhi installed in Yerevan; I say, no I am not a member of the Yerevan municipality but I, not only  support its decision to have responded affirmatively to the Indian Government’s proposal, but I also applaud its decision. 

It’s high time that we acknowledge the historic ties of Armenia / Armenians with India by honoring one of its internationally acclaimed historic figure, Mahatma Gandhi.

Anna The Bride

By

Shahe' Kasparian

Shahe' Kasparian wrote this poem in the memory of Anna Titizian from village Kaladouran in Kessab. She is the heroine of the epic novel titled “Anna The Bride” by her late grandson Kevork George Apelian. The book was translated into English by Annie Hoglind.

Anna The Bride

A striking pearl necklace adorning  her neck,

she was so stunning with hazel almond eyes,

a gorgeous complexion with no speck,

glowing  beauty in the midnight moonrise.

Long silky black hair, braided to her waist,

she shined, the  moon paling in comparison,

a daunting and arduous  journey she faced

in a lacy traditional shawl delightfully crimson.

In the middle of the night, shivering  and cold

with a scant foot sandal, walked over rocks

amidst the howling of coyotes so bold,

never to look back, strolled  so many blocks.

She was engaged to one not of her choosing,

she denied her father's & mother's strong wish

and in spite of their will, not a minute losing

she embarked on  a voyage of uncertain finish.

No one so pretty like her had dared  elope

alone in the dark she carried on and on,

frightened and confused down the slope,

determined to get to her lover before dawn.

Sobbing at times but surely always smiling

she longed for the encounter and anticipated

the last step in her new passage  and yearning,

new beginning,  new chapter, to be created.

And so she was united at last with her lover,

betrothed  to each other for all eternity

conceived their first child under heavy cover

only  to be separated from her community.

He travelled  far away to the land of free

sent word for her to name their second child

possibilities  for a family reunion never to be

but she never lost hope and always complied.

Sad  circumstances looming over the horizon,

once again she was forced against all her wishes

time to walk the march of death with no reason

like her million and a half sisters and  brothers.

Evil Ottoman empire schemed to annihilate,

eradicate any trace of Armenian descendants

but their plans were destined to a different fate

children scattered in the world of remnants.

She and her firstborn went through carnage

succumbed to an untimely and tragic death

her angelic life curtailed like her marriage

only to leave a legacy of precious breath.

Anna  Bride  will always be remembered

even though she has no grave or tombstone

she lives on in the ten million strong bred

her indomitable spirit surely infinitely grown.

Shahe' Kasparian 2-14-14

Posted with his permission.

Kevork George Apelian