The Monologues by Berj

Vahe H. Apelian

“No love is greater than that of a father for His son.”

Recently I received a personalized copy of Berj Cholakian's one-hundred pages long Monologues. The book of poetry, published in 2015 in Los Angeles, is a collection of thirty-two poems written over the past four decades. Artistic color pictures precede the poems and help enhance the author’s reflections in each poem. The hard cover depicts a  man treading along alone on a foggy day. The poems are printed in white fonts over  black, thicker than usual, sheets enhancing the author’s reflections on the realities of life in his monologues. The book is dedicated to his late son Sevag and daughter Tamara.

Berj Cholakian was born in Beirut, Lebanon. He holds a BBA degree from the American University of Beirut (AUB), where he majored in Business Administration with a minor in Modern Philosophy and Psychology.  

The first six poems are Oblivious Existence, Enigma, Introspect, Sacred Love, Pax Atomica, and April of Reincarnation. They were written in 1977 and  published in "Kuwait Times" when he worked as area manager for a British/Saudi firm there. The titles give a sense of the reflective mood he expresses in these monologues, as life may well be an Enigma that needs to be sorted out where:

Suddenly
Love is hate
Life is death
Light is darkness
and NO is
Perhaps…..

The next is Aliens…? It was written three decades later. The short biographical sketch sheds light on the prolonged lapse. After Kuwait he moved to Southern California where, for the next twenty-five years or so, he was engaged in his own private trading business from which he retired in 2009. Those years took  all of his attention and stamina while he tried to cope with the profound loss of his son.

The ensuing poems, from 2007 onward, continue to reflect on perennial subjects that have been written “since the beginning of the alphabet”, as he puts it. He tackles them again with a quest to make sense of the Enigma  that life can be and to affirm values.  I quote from I Still Believe (July 2012)

I still believe
That
A full-hearted laugh
or
A tacit smile
Will enlighten
Our aura
And
Enliven our heart

Cholakian presents similar subjects titled God, Love, Life, Religion, and akin themes but in different style and format. He explains, in his notes that he wrote “with as little words as possible to avoid being tedious in conveying my thoughts”. The poetic monologues written in the later years are more personal (Of Hope and Faith, Boundless Love, Tears of Joy and Sorrow and others).

A sense of resignation and need for comfort become palpable in the later poems, especially in “Letter” To My Late Son and Homage To My Orphaned Father. Don’t we all resign to the inevitable eventuality and concede that man proposes and God disposes? Some call it fate, others kismet.

In his “letter” to his son, written some twenty years after Sevag’s untimely death on his birthday during hiz first excursion in the car his parents had bought for him as his high school graduation gift.  Cholakian reveals that he continues to struggle to find solace to try to fill his loneliness and emptiness. He even writes to his son to control his anger against no other than “The Creator” or God. After all the struggle and grief, he ends his “letter” letting Sevag know that the only thing left for the father to do is to bid his son good-bye to see him soon. He writes:

Tentatively
Let me tell you
Good bye my son
And
See you soon

I was particularly consumed by this poem as I remembered what Aram Haigaz noted that the All Mighty God could not stand the loss of his beloved Son and had Him resurrected to sit by Him. I drew on my remembrance in an attempt to understand and convey the pain of a grieving father but not to sound insensitive to our Christian faith.

His last monologue – Homage To My Orphan Father – was written in April 2015 and is about memorializing the life of his orphaned father and paying tribute to him  “With eternal love”.

Cholakian's father hailed from Agn, the famed Armenian town that was the birthplace of an inordinate number of influential Armenians in many fields, so much so that Pascal Carmont (The Amiras: Lords of Ottoman Armenia) wondered if Agnetsis possessed a certain gene that catapulted them to such heights in so many fields. Along with a good number of the wealthy Armenian Amiras who hailed from Agn, the eminent Armenian poet Siamanto and revolutionary idealist Papken Suni were from the same town. Cholakian is no less a contributor to the enrichment of the post-Genocide Armenian Diaspora literature.

In the epilogue Cholakian notes that the “book of contemporary poetic monologues in epigrammatic style” is his humble legacy to humanity. After all is said and done the only thing remains of us and can long endure is our remembrance of each other, ss Cholakian notes in Oblivious Existence (Jan. 18, 2007):

In this endless space
In this dim place
Called the world
There  remains no trace…..
Of you
Of me
Of all
Just only a remembrance….

Undoubtedly the book is just that, a legacy of the author's impressionable mind that attempted to make sense of the universe in his early literary ventures forty years ago and ended up coping with the realities of life, especially with the profound loss of his son and paying homage to his parents. 

The book is also a testament of solid friendships and of friends — Dr. Kevork and Cecile Keshishian and Yenovk Balikian — who obviously have shared his experiences. They came together and sponsored the publication of this beautifully rendered hardcover book of poetry.

Berj Cholakian may be contacted at PO Box 694, Glendale, CA 91200 or by emailing at BerjCholakian@AOL.com

Cardashian and Kardashian

Vahe H. Apelian

A single letter distinguishes the two prominent Armenian family names, but both sound alike. There may have been others, much like I, who might have thought that, although spelled differently, the family names are related to each other. They are not. Both come from Armenian inhabited regions. One is a a representative of Western and the other Eastern Armenians. Both have had and continue to have notable roles not only in the life the Armenian American community, but in the Diaspora and in Armenia as well.

I have attached excerpts about their lives from Wikipedia.

Vahan Cardashian (Armenian: Վահան Քարտաշեան), was born in the city of Caesarea (now Kayseri), Ottoman Empire on December 1, 1882 or 1883. Cardashian studied in the local French lyceum and Talas American College. He emigrated to the United States in 1902. He got accepted at Yale University in 1904 and earned a Law degree in 1908. In the same year, he wrote a book entitled The Ottoman Empire of the Twentieth Century.  Cardashian entered the New York State Bar Association in 1909 and began practicing law. In 1913, he was the Fiscal Agent of the Ottoman Empire in the United States. Prior to the Armenian Genocide of 1915, he served as a counselor and statistician to the Ottoman Chamber of Commerce in America. He was a counselor for the Ottoman Embassy in Washington, D.C. and then to the Ottoman Consulate General in New York from 1910 to 1915. He authored several books on the Armenian Question. Some authors claim otherwise, but in his 1934 obituary, it's stated that Cardashian was survived by his sister, mother and brother. 

In early 1919, he founded the American Committee for the Independence of Armenia (ACIA), the predecessor of the Armenian National Committee of America  (ANCA). He continued his efforts until his death in 1934. The ANCA has established an award after Vahan Cardashian and bestows the award yearly on a meritorious person who has distinguished himself serving the Armenian Cause. 

In 2008, the late attorney Vartkes Yeghiayan, who specialized in interntional law, wrote a book titled “Vahan Cardashian: Advocate Extraordinaire For the Armenian Cause”.

Robert George Kardashian (February 22, 1944 – September 30, 2003) was an American attorney and businessman. He gained national recognition as O.J Simpon’s  friend and defense attorney during Simpson's 1995 murder trial. He had four children with his first wife Kris (nee Houghton, later Jenner). Their children are Kourtney,  Khloe and Rob, and Kim, formally Kimberly Noel Kardashin West, who is a notable   media personality, socialite, businesswoman, producer, and actress.  The Kardashians appear on their family reality television series titled "Keeping Up with the Kardashian".

 

 

Robert was born in Los Angeles, California. He has a sister Barbara and a brother Tom Kardashian. His great-grandparents, Saghatel ("Sam") and Harom Kardaschoff, were ethnic Armenian Spiritual Christian immigrants from Karakale (now: Merkezkarakale), Kars Oblast of the Russian Empire  (now Kars Province in Turkey ). The family, known at the time by the surname Kardaschoff, in Russian style, made their way from their home village of Karakale to a new life in America. Their son Tatos, Kim Kardashian's paternal grandfather, anglicized his name to Tom, started a business in garbage collection in Los Angeles, and married another Kars-Karakale immigrant, Hamas Shakarian, Kim's paternal grandmother.

 

 

"For Whom The Bells Toll"

Vahe H. Apelian

Armenia observes May 28 as one of its national holidays termed  the Republic Day, although the first stamps issued by the Republic of Armenia on May 28, 1992, declared it to be the Independence Day. On this occasion, the public is invited to celebrate of the establishment of the Republic of Armenia in 1918. Officially the Republic Day “is celebrated with an annual military parade. The President of Armenia will visit the Sardarapat Memorial to commemorate an important battle that the fledgling republic fought against the Turks in 1918. The day is also marked with fireworks, concerts, torchlight marches and parties.”

Understandably this holiday was not observed during the Soviet Armenia era. But the Diaspora, at least a good segment of it celebrated May 28 as Independence Day. Some of the Armenian schools were closed on that day in observance of that important historic day.

The Sardarabad Memorial site is chosen for the official observance and celebration of the day because The Battle of Sardarabad (Սարդարապատի ճակատամարտ, Sardarapati Djakadamard)  took place there on May 21, 1918 and for the next  few days between the regular Armenian military units and militia on one side and the advancing Turkish army. Sardarabad is approximately 40 kilometres (25 mi) west of the capital of  Yerevan. The battle not only halted the Turkish military advance into the rest of Armenia, it also made the present-day Armenia a reality. Quoting Wikipedia “ In the words of Christopher J. Walker  had the Armenians lost this battle, it is “ perfectly possible that the word Armenia would have henceforth denoted only an antique geographical term."

The First Republic was short-lived, from 1918 to 1920, but it laid down the foundation of the Armenian statehood after the collapse of the last Armenian kingdom, the Kingdom of Cilicia, in 1375. 

During the past 100 plus years, a few generations of Armenians grew up taking for granted that the Armenians have a state of their own, although under the Soviet rule for the most. On September 21, 1991, the citizens of the Soviet Socialist Republic of Armenia voted overwhelmingly in a referendum to gain independence from the Soviet Union. The date is marked as the Independence Day of Armenia (Armenian: Հայաստանի Անկախության օրը) and is observed as another state holiday in Armenia

May 28, 1918 has thus come to symbolize the age old dream of the Armenians for an independent country of their own. It was a decisive and a precarious state, so much so that the commanders of the Armenian Armed forces recommended that the Supreme Patriarch of the Armenians, the  Catholicos of all Armenians Kevork Soureniants (1911-1930), vacate Etchmiadzin and move away for safety.  Not only the Catholicos rejected their proposal but encouraged the military and the people of Armenia to resist to the end. This is what he is reported to have said:

"Armenian nation. Our age-old enemy, the Turks have subjugated Alexandrapol (present-day Gumri) and are advancing towards the heart of our nation, our faith, and our history. It is coming onto the land of Ararat.

The Turks are advancing massacring and plundering. Our commanders see no way out of the disaster and are pushing the Patriarch of the Armenians to flee. They are suggesting to me to leave the Holy See Etchmiadzin, our holy sanctuary, the last remnant of the Armenian people.

No, and no. Thousand times no. I will not abandon the legacy of our saintly forefathers. If the Armenian people are not able to stop the enemy's advances, is unable to salvage our holy sites, I will then bear a sword and fall in the courtyard of our Mother Temple but I will not abandon the depository of our faith, the Holy See.

If the end has come, then why not accept it with honor and courage? And not by submissively crawl in front of our enemy. Our history through the ages is full of valor colored with blood. It has not exhausted our blood and courage. Throughout the centuries the Armenian people have struggled for the sake of preserving their identity. It is for that reason that our history, laden with large-scale massacres, has not come to its end, nor will it. Therefore, as a nation, why not rise against the enemy that is coming thirsty to our last blood?" (Catholicos of all Armenians Kevork Soureniants, May 1918).

Catholicos also requested that all the churches across the land toll their bells. The sound of these bells surely reverberated the souls of the emaciated survivors who had found refuge there. But the Armenians were not all that unprepared. The Armenian military commanders under the leadership of the Armenia Revolutionary Federation had forged an army ready for battle. The soldiers, along with the people met their enemy on three battlefronts and carried the day.

Nowadays visitors to the Sardarabad Monument will see symbolic bells held high in three arched columns ostensibly symbolizing the three battlefronts at Sardarabad, Karakilisa, and Pash Abaran. The bells mounted on the monument symbolically are meant to toll for succeeding generations, as they did once during that precarious period in our history, calling upon the Armenians to be ready to rise up in  arms in the defense of the Mother Fatherland.

FIRST DAY COVER
MAY 28 INDEPENDENCE DAY

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Hyroxychloroquine, Colonoscopy, and Broccoli.

Vahe H. Apelian

 

Yesterday, on March 19, I had posted the following on my Facebook page. “ THE PRESCRIPTION for the PRESIDENT - who, according to NY Times on Tuesday May 19, has been taking Hyrdoxychloroquine tablets for over a week. A chain of recorded events should have happened for the President DJT to start taking the medications starting from a visit by a medical doctor, physically or by phone, issuing a prescription, filling the prescription somewhere and handing it to the president by mail or else way, with instruction for the president as how often a day the president to take the tablet/s, with or without meal and for how long. The prescribing physician owes an explanation to the public for the prophylactic use of the medication. After all we are not speaking of an ordinary patient but the President of the U.S., who surely is not self-medicating without medical consent.”

A respondent commented in defense of the white house physician’s knowledge and in defense of the president taking the medication although I had not questioned either of them. My response to him was: “I want to know how many times he takes the medication; how does it take it with or without meal and for how long will he be taking it. If it’s good for him, it’s good for me too. Especially we are talking safeguarding the person against the infection. I imagine that his physician owes the public and explanation on the President's use of the medication. We may differ and that is all about it.”  Being a medical matter, I envisioned that it’s the President’s physician who owes an explanation to the public and not the President. There are issues the public should be aware of as  the medication’s use is being prescribed as a prophylactic and we know that insurance companies and Medicare do not reimburse for use of medications beyond its recommended use.

Rebuttals to my response soon followed. Both noted that I should have been aware that it is a private matter. I partly quote one commentators:  “First of all, I doubt what you want "to know" is or should be allowed under HIPPA; Second, those details are private, even for the president; do you feel you have the right to know everything he takes?”.  The thing is that I would not have known about the President taking the hydroxychloroquine and expected his physician’s explanation had the President not announced it. As to HIPPA, I have no clue what it is. There were other controversial remarks made regarding physicians prescribing for off labels indications and Medicare reimbursing such prescriptions. I am sure such issues would have come about, should the President’s physician come forth with a public briefing.

Briefing about the President’s health is not uncommon. The President’s state of health is a public matter and physicians briefing about the president’s health is a good way of educating the public and is not uncommon. I remember the medical briefings after the following, I quote: “ Reagan Undergoes Cancer Surgery, July 13, 1985. On this day in 1985, President Ronald Reagan underwent surgery at Bethesda Naval Medical Center in Maryland to remove a cancerous polyp in his large intestine. Doctors also removed 2 feet of Reagan's lower intestine.” Following his surgery, day after day, I would see pictures of our internal organs displayed on television detailing the  President’s surgery and about ailments affecting the intestines.

 I also know that mere utterances by the President swings widely the barometers that indicate stock trading and have profound influence on matters. I recall the displeasure of the broccoli producers against President Bush who had said, I quote, “''I do not like broccoli,'' the President said, responding to queries about a broccoli ban he has imposed aboard Air Force One, first reported this week in U.S. News and World Report. ''And I haven't liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I'm President of the United States, and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli!''

Time surely  has changed from the twelve Reagan and Bush years. It was the era of the great communicating President Reagan and the gentleman President Bush, who was said not to pee in a shower. But the thing that has not changed is the inordinate impression a president’s doings and utterance leave on the public. Let us face it, the President looms larger than  the average citizen’s life. That brings back me back to my Facebook posting and I reiterate my point. The White House physician, who I believe prescribed President Trump to take hydroxychloroquine prophylactically, owes the public a briefing and inevitable recommendation on the use of this medicine by the public to safeguard itself against corona virus infection

Kistinok, A Cherished Language

Vahe H.  Apelian

A Panoramic view of Kessab

Levon Der Bedrossian, Armenia’s first nationally elected president, Catholicos of All Armenians Karekin I Sarkissian of blessed memory and,  Rev. Dr. Movses Janbazian, the Executive Director of the AMAA who spearheaded establishing the Armenian Missionary Association of America in Armenia, spoke a common language they had learned from their parents, Kistinok.

If my recollection serves me well, it was the on- time weekly, “The Armenian Reporter”, that had noted that whenever the three met, they exchanged pleasantries in that language. I believe that their knowledge of this cherished dialect fostered among them a special camaraderie and a bond that transcended all other considerations. There is a unique feeling of cherished ownership knowing that you have been entrusted with an ancient Armenian dialect, or language if you will, few others speak nowadays.

Dr. Avedis Injejikian, the prominent Kessabtsi medical doctor, notes in his study published in the third volume of Hagop Cholakian’s exhaustive study of Kessab that the Armenians of the historical Antioch, which constituted the core of the famed Armenian Cilicia, called themselves kistini, that is to say Christians and the language they spoke Kistinok, the language of the Christians. While the native Armenians understood Kistinok, there are regional nuances in the accent that further characterizes the dialect. The Kessabtsis, call it also Kesbenok, i.e. the language spoken by the Kesbetsek, that is to say the Kessabtsis, the people of Kessab; while the people of Musa Dagh refer to their dialect Sividitsnok, in reference to the Sveda sub-district within the Ottoman province where Musa Dagh is located, presently in the Hatay province of Turkey. 

Consequently, Levon Der Bedrossian and Movses Janbazian having hailed from Musa Dagh, Catholicos Karekin I Sarkissian, having hailed from Kessab, would have spoken in their distinct accents and yet all three would have understood each other very well and enjoyed the precious legacy they have been entrusted with, Kistinok. For generations Kistinok was the conversational language  of the Kessabtsis. Hagop Cholakian, the eminent Kessabtsi scholar, has done much of the study of the language and preservation of its folk stories, songs and sayings. 

My paternal grandparents, Stepan and Sarah, were the sole genocide survivors of their families. They spoke Kistinok with each other not only at home but also socially with their contemporaries. In fact, it was with that dialect that they welcomed my father and my paternal uncle into this world and raised them.  Out of love of their first-born grandson, regretfully they spoke in Armenian with me and thus I  am not conversant in Kestenok but I understand it very well.

Grandfather Stepan Apelian

My mother tells me that for the first post genocide generation of the Kessabtsi boys and girls, herself included,  speaking Armenian was not the norm, rather it was the mandate in the village school they attended. In order to enforce speaking Armenian, the school had devised a system called “signal”, which consisted of a note card kept by a teacher supervising the students during recess. The teacher would hand it to the student caught speaking Kistinok instead of Armenian. The student in turn had the option of passing it to any other student who spoke Kessaberen. At the end of the day, students who had those “signal” cards would be  reprimanded for having not spoken Armenian or “hayja” as students would call speaking Armenian amongst themselves.  

With the ensuing immigration of the Kessabtsis to the “four corners of the world” and with the repatriation to Armenia, the language went along and in some families the kistinok remained the conversational language. Children born and raised in these families in faraway places often time used it as a substitute for Armenian and some became very conversant in it. I doubt that nowadays there are Kessabtsi families whose conversational language in their homes is in Kistinok.  

Kistinok, with its varied accents is a vivid example of the rich dialects that had evolved from coastal towns of historical Cilicia, to the plains of Van and Moush, to the mountain top of Sassoun that was destroyed due to the genocide, the Medz Yeghern that befell upon the Armenians. With the disappearance of these dialects a rich folklore that had evolved over millennia simply got wiped out as well. 

Recently I posted one of Jirayr Terterian’s song on my page and shared it with other groups on Facebook. Most who commented had not heard the language before and some appeared not know that there is such a dialect. I choose to believe that as long as there are Kesbetsek,  Kistinok will be spoken. Before the start of the Syrian civil war, I was told that the young in Kessab are making a special effort to use it socially to foster camaraderie and preserve the language. Recently I was pleasantly surprised to learn that my cousin’s son Dr. Tsolag Apelian and daughter Shoghag Ayanian, have mastered the language having learned it from their grandparents.  In fact, Tsolag maintains a Facebook page called “Քեսպնուօկ - The Armenian Dialect of Kessab” to encourage the continual use of the millennial old cherished dialect across the globe.

Grandmother Sarah Mousajekian Apelian

CALLIGRAPHY AND STEVE JOBS' INTUITION

Vahe H. Apelian

Some time ago I saw the movie “Steve Jobs”. As the title of the film indicates it was a depiction of his life. In a dramatic scene Steve Jobs fired one of their best programmers because he questioned the need to devote time and effort to have different fonts on the Apple computer when they were facing so many challenges to overcome. Steve Jobs attributed his appreciation of calligraphy when he attended a course or two in college and must have intuitively recognized its appeal and importance to consumers.  The movie scene was a dramatization of course but tt is well known that Steve Jobs emphasized the aesthetics of the product, along its functionality, way back when they launched Apple Computers.  In his interviews he said he aimed in making the product an extension of the person. Nowadays, there is a whole list of fonts on an Apple computer including many different Armenian fonts.

Steve Job’s intuition about the importance of calligraphy reminded me of my mother’s Armenian typewriter and her appreciation of calligraphy.

Decades ago, my mother purchased an Armenian font manual typewriter. It was not an on the spur of the moment purchase. An Armenian font manual typewriter was fabricated upon request. It was an expensive proposition, especially for a teacher in Armenian schools. She spent almost a year saving from her salary towards her acquisition of an Armenian manual typewriter.

I remember her spending a considerable amount of time teaching herself typing on the manual typewriter. In the end, I doubt that she typed a single letter on the typewriter simply because she did not like the fonts.

Some time ago I found in her papers a type written report by the late Rev. Aram Hadidian about the founding of the onetime Sin El Fil Armenian Evangelical School (see ԵՐԲԵՄՆԻ ՍԻՆ-ԷԼ-ՖԻԼԻ ՀԱՅ ԱՒԵՏԱՐԱՆԱԿԱՆ ՎԱՐԺԱՐԱՆԻՆ ՊԱՏՄԱԿԱՆԸ, August 8, 2017), The fonts indeed look very dull. There is no appeal to them whatsoever. It becomes evident the manual typewriter was made to be functional and that’s all.  The technology or the mindset may not have been there at the time to consider having more appealing fonts along with  functionality.

From that point on she resorted to her customary hand wiring. When the computers became more accessible, my mother was too much set in her ways to ever consider learning word processing, which in fact can be regarded as a modern-day typewriter. She continued resorting to the only way she knew, handwriting. The thought of sitting in front of a computer  terrified her.  

My mother left behind hundreds of beautifully handwritten pages. On unlined blank sheets of paper, she wrote neatly and on a straight line; line after line, pages after pages. She had a beautiful handwriting. At least, I know of no other whose natural effortless Armenian handwriting is as beautiful as hers was. She was also endowed with an uncanny ability for committing poems by heart much like a recording. She loved Armenian poetry and had a habit of writing them down for her enjoyment. She also loved and prepared group recitations, Khmpayin Asmoung in Armenian, for her students to recite. Such group recitations were, as I am not sure if they still are, time-honored traditions at the graduation ceremonies from Armenian schools. I reproduced some of the handwritten group recitation she had prepared in  a book.  I invite interested readers to read my blog titled “Tribute To An Art: Khmpaying Asmoung”.(see Tribute To An Art: Khmpayin Asmoungner, see August 27, 2017).

Although she did not use her Armenian font manual typewriter,  she kept it. I imagine that she maintained a sentimental attachment to it for, years ago, she had it shipped to me, in the U.S. I donated it to the Armenian Library and Museum of America. The original ribbon was still on it. I typed a line on a page indicating that this typewriter is being gifted to the museum and had the manual typewriter shipped there.

Armenian Font Manual Typewriter

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...