V.H. Apelian's Blog

V.H. Apelian's Blog

Tuesday, April 12, 2022

Anna the Bride

 


Today I read that George Kevork Apelian’s “Anna the Bride” has been translated into Italian. The book was also translated into Arabic and English (by Annie Hoglind). 

Anna was George Kevork Apelian's paternal grandmother. The book is about Anna, refusing to marry the prospective groom her parents had her engaged, she sneaked out of her parent’s house in the middle of the night and walked alone, all the way from her coastal village Kaladouran to her lover Kerop’s parental house in the village of Keurkune. Although elopements were not uncommon in Kessab, but never a girl had walked on her own to her lover’s house before. Her elopement and the subsequent feud between the families became part of the folklore of Kessab and a tune was continued to be sung about the event during marriage festivities for long, well after Anna, Kerop were no more. 

The young couple fathered two sons, Kerop and James, the author’s father. But her husband left for the U.S. to join his two brothers and have his pregnant wife and son join him after he settled. Anna and her children left Iskenderun on ship to Marseille France to continue their journey to the U.S. But she was not permitted to immigrate. Forced to return to Keurkune, she was deported with her in-laws and sister-in-law on their genocidal march where she, her elder son, her in-laws succumbed to the ordeal. Only her younger son James and her sister-in-law Karoun, my maternal grandmother, survived. She became James' guardian angel.

“Anna the Bride” is the story of Anna Tititian. A true story and the staff of which movies are made.

Anna hailed from the Titizian family. Shahe' Kasparian wrote this poem in the memory of Anna who was his wife Sylva’s and his brother-in-laws: John and Garbis Titizian’s paternal grandfather’s sister.

 

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 the 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

Note: Posted with his Permission



Saturday, April 9, 2022

After the Breakage - Կոտրելէն Ետքը

Krikor Zohrab

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian

Certainly, the cup sitting on its saucer was made of superbly crafted crystal when he gave it to me as a gift.

He was a friend to whom I had rendered a small service.  He had said it wasn't much of a thing he had given. After he left, I glanced over it casually. He had picked the cup so I would remember him as I sipped my coffee.

The transparent crystal made it obvious that it was the finest of its kind. It had the logo of a famous producer of crystal goods. The logo, imprinted in a red ring, read 1844.

For a long time, the cup sat in a corner of my office gathering dust. As an appreciator of finer things, I had initially been content with the idea of having it in my office.  After a while I had forgotten it. One day it occurred to me that it was ludicrous to have it sitting in my office without being used. I thought it was best that I took the cup home and drank my coffee from it.

There also the fortunes of the cup did not fare any better. Things resemble people a bit. They have their own fate. No one paid any attention to the poor cup, although it was one of a kind.

We placed it somewhere as decoration. More than once it was shuffled from one place to another. I saw one of my children playing with it. One day it fell from her hands and broke into many shards.

*****

The other day I came across its saucer. I scrutinized its delicate and intricate drawings. Indeed, they were wonders of art. Two intertwined letters with imperial markings caught my attention. Right across the ring I also noticed the same imperial coat-of-arms and the same letters.

The letters were L and P. I realized that the letters were the initials of Louis Philippe. The coffee saucer had belonged to him. Next to the logo of the famous manufacturer said Fontainebleau Palace. It is now that I was noticing. Yes, there was no doubt. It had belonged to King Louis Philippe of France. The masterful decoration should have made it amply evident to a connoisseur that it could not have  belonged to an ordinary mortal.

Now its cup was broken into pieces. I had not recognized its value. It had stayed with me for years, within easy reach. How much did I now regret what I had done to it. I reprimanded myself for not having given the attention it had deserved and for not having taken better care of such a valuable item.

*****

The small incident gave way to thoughts. Those reading these sentences surely would have similar thoughts.

It is commonplace not to appreciate those who live with us for a long time. Death and loss trigger the living to render an impartial and a just verdict of the deceased. The void that the cemetery brings is necessary to discern the delicate and beautiful features of the faces of those who have passed away. The impossibility of their return is required to have our blind eyes opened to the truth and humble ourselves to proclaim their virtues we could not bring ourselves to appreciate openly, unknowingly maybe, while they were alive.

I think that friendships are like that too. Often no one gives the slightest consideration to the hearts that eagerly and faithfully wait for the person. It is required that these hearts be broken to feel and measure the depth and the magnitude of the loss.

That is what happened to my coffee cup as well. I recognized its value... after its breakage.

 

 

Հարկաւ ազնիւ յախճապակի էր այս սուրճի սկահակը իր պզտիկ պնակին մէջ, երբոր նուէր բերին ինծի օր մը:

Տուողը, բարեկամներէս մէկը, որուն պզտիկ ծառայութիւն մը մատուցեր էի, ըսաւ թէ չնչին բան մըն էր տուածը:Ասիկա զատեր էր, որպէսզի սուրճը անոր մէջէն խմեմ եւ միշտ յիշեմ զինք այս առթիւ:

Պարզ զարդի համար տեղ մը դրինք: Քանի մը օր վերջը հոս ու հոն նետուեր էր. անգամ մը պզտիկ զաւկիս ձեռքը տեսայ. հետը կը խաղար ու ժամանակ կ'անցընէր: Օրին մէկն ալ ձեռքէն վար ինկաւ, հազար կտոր եղաւ:

Անցած օր անոր պզտիկ պնակը ձեռքս անցաւ. սրտի նեղութեան մէկ վայրկեանիս, նուրբ գծագրութիւններն ու գունագեղ կիտուածները կը զննէի: Ստուգիւ գեղեցիկ արուեստի մը հրաշակերտ էր: Յանկարծ, իրարու ՝փաթթուած երկու տառեր նշմարեցի՝ վրան արքայական զինանշանով: Ճիշդ դիմացի կողմը շրջանակին՝ միեւնոյն զինանշանը ու միեւնոյն սկզբնատառերը:

Այս տառերը ֆրանսերէն Լ եւ Ֆ տառերն էին. եւ ահա լոյսը ծագեցաւ միտքիս մէջ: Լուի Ֆիլիփի կը վերաբէր այդ սուրճի սկահակը իր պնակով:

Ա՛լ տարակոյս չկար, Ֆրանսիայի թագաւորինն էր անիկա. զարդարուն ու նրբակերտ շինուածքը բաւելու էր արդէն մէկ նայուածքով ճշդելու թէ ան սովորական մահկանացուի յատուկ բան մը չէր կրնար ըլլալ:

Եւ հիմա որ կտրած, փշրուած էր այդ խեղճ սկահակը, որուն արժէքը չէի կրցած ըմբռնել, երբոր տարիներ մնացեր էր քովս, ձեռքիս տակ, հիմա որքան կը զղջայի ըրածիս վրայ, որչափ կը կշտամբէի ինքզինքս՝ քիչ մը հոգ եւ ուշադրութիւն չտանելուս համար թանկագին բան մը հասկնալու եւ պահպանելու:

Բարեկամութիւններն ալ ատանկ են շատ անգամ. ամենադոյզն արժէք մը չենք տար այն սրտերուն, որոնք յօժար ու լուռ հաւատարմութեամբ մը մեզի կը սպասեն, եւ հարկ է որ այդ սրտերը խորտակուին, որպէսզի կորուստին մեծութիւնը կարենանք զգալ ու չափել:

Այսպէս պատահեցաւ իմ սուրճի սկահակիս համար ալ: Ճանչցայ... կոտրելէն ետքը:

Գրիգոր Զօհրապ

 

Tuesday, April 5, 2022

Khrimian Hayrig: The Family - Ընտանիք

 The attached is my translation of a paragraph from Khrimian Hayrig’s book titled. “Home and Family”- (Doun yev Endanik – Տուն եւ Ընտանիք). Vahe H. Apelian 

Ժողովուրդը եթէ կը յառաջադիմէ՝ իւր առաջին քայլը ընտանեաց սրահէն կ՚առնու. If the people makes progress, it takes its first step in the family hall.

եթէ կը լուսաւորի, իւր լոյսը ընտանեկան ճրագէն է. If it illuminates, its light is from the family lamp.

եթէ կը միանայ, իւր ոգին եւ կապն ընտանիքն է. If it is unitedits spirit and connection is the family.

եթէ կը զօրանայ իւր ուժ եւ բազուկն ընտանիքն էIf it gets stronger, its arm is the family.

եթէ կը հարստանայ, իւր գանձարան եւ գանձապետն ընտանիքն է. If it gets rich, its treasury and treasurer is the family.

եթէ իւր տուն եւ սեղան բարելից եւ առատ է, արդիւնաբեր անդաստանը ընտանիքն է. If his house is well off and its table abundant, the productive abode is the family.

եթէ դրախտի գետերը կը վազեն իւր հրապարակը՝ աղբիւրը դրախտի ընտանիքն էIf the rivers of paradise run its way, the source of the paradise is the family.

եթէ իւր կարասները լի են գինւով՝ կը խմէ կ՚ուրախանայ, խաղողաբեր այգին ընտանիքն է. If its jars are full of wine, he drinks and rejoices, the vineyard is the family.

եթէ բարեծնունդ զաւակներով օր ըստ օրէ բիւրապատիկ կ՚աճի, իւր նախածնող խնամատար ընտանիքն է, If he grows up day by day with exemplary children, their prenatal care giver is the family.

եթէ իւր զաւակները բարեկիրթ քաղաքացի պատրաստել կ՚ուզէ, իւր բարեկրթութեան առաջին համալսարան ընտանիքն է. If he wants to educate his children as good citizens, the first university for good education is the family

եթէ աշխարհիս վերայ երջանիկ ապրիլ կ՚ուզէ, թող հաւատայ, որ երջանկութեան կեանք բղխող աղբիւր ընտանիքն է. If he wants to live a happy life in this world, let him believe that the source for a happy life is the family.

եթէ երկրէս յետոյ երկինք եւս ժառանգել կ՚ուզէ՝ պահելով իւր հայրենի կրօն, հաւատ եւ եկեղեցին, այո՛ այդ սուրբ աւանդները անեղծ անկորուստ պահելու խորանն ընտանիքն է։ If he wants to inherit heaven after earth, keeping his native religion, faith and church; yes, the altar for keeping those sacred deposits is the family.

Զի այդ գանձը եւ Աւետարանի անգիւտ մարգարիտը աշխարհիս շահավաճառութեան հրապարակին մէջ, կառավարութեանց դահլիճներու մէջ, գիտութեանց ճեմարանաց մէջ անկորուստ չեն պահուիր, այ միայն դորա հաւատարիմ աւանդապահ ընտանիքն է։ For the treasure and the pearl of the Gospel are not kept unharmed in the  centers of world trade, nor in the halls of the governmentsor in the seminaries of science; but only in the faithful and observant family.

 

Thanking the Readers of my Blogs

Vahe H. Apelian


 Bog, Blogging and blogger:

Merriam Webster dictionary defines blog as “a regular feature appearing as part of an online publication that typically relates to a particular topic and consists of articles and personal commentary by one or more authors”. Blog is used both as a noun and as a verb. As a verb blog means,” to write a blog”. That makes “blogging” the act and the person who wrote the blog, a “blogger”. 

The word blog is a relative newcomer into the English language lexicon. According to Wikipedia the term ‘blog” was first used as a noun and as a verb in April or May 1999. I became a blogger on March 4, 2017, when I posted my first article in my personal blog site I initiated on the same date. Little did I know then that my blog site would also tell me how many read a blog I posted and from where and how many times my blogs were read in total. 

This new word as a noun and as a verb is liberating for me because the blogger, in this instance I, do not need to be measured by a writer’s yardstick. I am a blogger and not a writer as we understand being a writer; nor my blogging should be measured against a scholarly work. They are not researched articles; they are merely blogs.

Many publishers have aspired to be masters of their voice, but a few had achieved until we stepped into this New Brave World. Simon Simonian and Antranig Zarougian had achieved the ultimate a journalist aspired. They were masters of the journals they published. They were the editors and the publishers of their weekly journals, “Spurk” and “Nayiri” respectively. Both were independent minded and would not have thrived in an organization.  Fortunately, new technology has enabled anyone to have his or her own journal, we call blog. 

As of today, I have posted 475 blogs and they have been read in total 217,005 times by readers from Armenia to America and thence to Australia and in many other countries in between.  I should note that the site does not assure that the blogs are read. It merely notes there have been so many “page-views”, over 217,000, as I noted above. I assume a reader viewing a blog implies reading the blog. 

I thank all those who have opted to read my blogs instead of doing something else at that moment. Hopefully they found something there that made reading my blogs worthwhile.!

Saturday, March 26, 2022

Զարմանալի Հայ - Astonishing Armenian

Translated by  Vahe H. Apelian

~Գևորգ Էմին~

Զարմանալի՛ հայ


Պապդ թուրքահայ,
Հայրդ ռուսահայ,
Դու ֆրանսահայ,
Զարմանալի հա՜յ...


Սասունում ծնուած,
Պեյրութում ապրած,
Էջմիածնում մեռած...
Զարմանալի՜ հայ։


Տղադ Սևանում,
Թոռդ Միլանում,
Ծոռդ Թեհրանում։
Քո սերմը վաղու՜ց քեզ չի
հասկանում...
Առանց պապ ու տատ,
Հայրենական հող,
Մայրենի լեզու՛,

Առանց հայր ու մայր։
Զարմանալի հա՜յ...


Որ որպես հիւր է իրտունը գալիս,                
Որպես տուրիստ իր տանմեջ ման գալիս,
Եւ ետ գնում տու՛ն,
Որ Նիս է կոչվում,
Հալեպ կամ Շանհա՜յ։
Զարմանալի՜ հայ,
Զարմանալի հա՜յ...

 

Kevork Emin

 

Astonishing Armenian

 


Your grandfather is aTurkish Armenian,

Your father is a Russian Armenian,

You are a French Armenian,

Astonishing Armenian...

 

Hailed from Sassoun,

Lived in Beirut,

Died in Etchmiadzin.

Astonishing Armenian...

  

Your son is in Sevan,

Your grandchild is in Milan,

Your great grandchild is in Tehran.

Your genes  have long ceased to

understand you…

Without Tatik and Mamik,

Without ancestral land,

Without mother tongue,

Without dad and mom.

Astonishing Armenian….

 

 


As a guest comes to his

home,

As a tourist, in his house

he roams,

and returns home,

that is called Niece,

Aleppo or Chennai.

Astonishing՜ Armenian

Astonishing Armenian՜

Wednesday, March 9, 2022

"By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:35"

I came across this letter from Rev. Jirari Ghazarian in my files. I post it as a reflection of appreciation of  Rev. Jirair Ghazarian's ministry in Kessab in trying times, after Rev. Savag Trashian was called to serve as the pastor of the Armenian Evangelical Emmanuel Church in greater Beirut.

Vahe H. Apelian

"Thirteen months later, on Sunday July 12, 2015, the renovated and refurbished Armenian Evangelical Church of Keurkune  was formally reopened and Sunday service was held there. Rev. Selimian welcomed Rev. Jirair Ghazarian, the newly-appointed pastor for the Armenian Evangelical Churches in Kessab. After the service a reception was held in the church’s courtyard." Vahe H. Apelian


Thank You for Your Support

By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:35

FUND REPORT!

 Rev. Jirair Ghazarian

Keorkuneh Church Update Fall/Winter 2015-2016

A Humble report of your donation

Gratias Tibi

Dear Mr. Vahe Apelian,
I am Pastor Jirair Ghazarian, the newly appointed pastor (March 2105) of

the Armenian Evangelical Churches of Kessab and its regions.
It is a pleasure for me to write and thank a person who has given so much to his beloved village and yet to his beloved Church.

In the name of the Armenian Evangelical Church Committee, we would like to thank you for your continuous support and specially for the support that give through your morals, finances and care...

We received the money with great joy... We received it with a deep joy that turned our black walls into white ones, our dim faces into jolly ones. Furthermore, we didn’t stop there; we worked so hard to make what we have the best, the most appropriate and a comfortable place for the present and the future.
The funds that you sent were used for two fundamental projects.

A. The renovation of the place Keorkunetsiz call “Srahig” into a nice decent church office....

B. The church bought a Yamaha Clavinova clp-370 electric piano. ( it has great features i.e. updates sounds from the net, records good music...)

Hence, I also wanted you to see the images and “the before after” comparison.
 


Thank you again, for your love, care and support for Kessab !! Sincerely in Christ.

Jirair Ghazarian



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Sunday, March 6, 2022