Monday, August 11, 2008

#53- Pashinyan - The Other Side of the World


53. երազանքների բարի փերի

Յուրաքանչյուր ոք գոնե մի անգամ պետք է իրեն մենակ զգա` օվկիանոսի վրա: Դա օգնում է, օգնում է ամենակարեւորում, որ մարդը նկատի ամենագլխավորը, հիմնականը: Մենք այնքա~ն շատ բան չենք նկատում ու նկատելիս զարմանում:

The Other side of the world

  1. Good Fairy of Dreams

Everyone should feel alone at least once on the ocean. That helps one understand the most important, the most basic things. There is so much we don’t notice, and when we do, we’re surprised. That which the ocean makes you conscious of, you can’t even notice in everyday life. Even in the ocean it’s not easy to notice it; you should feel yourself alone and far from others, and the ocean will tell you…No, it won’t say a thing, you will have to look at the ocean yourself and understand:

“You insignificant, insignificant being. You are so miniscule and so ridiculous. Do you know what makes you ridiculous?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not being conscious.”


“Meaning that you are not aware of your own nothingness. That is so ridiculous…”

“And if I am aware…?”

“That fast?”

“Let’s suppose.”

“So what do you feel?”

What do you feel? How does it feel to be aware of your nothingness? A blessed, blessed feeling, to which you want to cling so it won’t leave you, so it will forever stay with you. Living is so easy, Freedom is so sweet. Freedom is nothing but the awareness of your nothingness.

How do you turn a man into a slave, humiliate him. They openly threaten us, they threaten to hurt us, to torture us, to humiliate us, and finally, to eliminate us. And that worries us because we’re not conscious of our nothingness. To us it seems that the universe revolves around us, that the stars shine for us, and that they disappear when we do. And we crouch under the burden of our self-importance; next, we walk on all fours, and finally, we crawl.

Being conscious of your nothingness makes you feel lighter; you feel so light that you can fly anywhere, and the breeze will wave you over the ocean as a flag, as the flag of Freedom, and you will soar high, higher and higher—indescribably high.

“Ocean, Oh, Ocean, I am so ready for suffering and death…”

“Then you are ready to be brave.”

“And what is bravery, Oh, Ocean?”

“To be true to your origins and to your destiny.”

“And what are origins, Oh, Ocean?”

“God created you Free…”

“And what is destiny, Oh, Ocean?”

“Origin is destiny…”

“I am so ready for suffering and death…”

“Then you are ready to live; you are ready to win…”

“I am but nothing, Oh, Ocean…”

“Then you are Free…”


I had asked Fred for one more favor: when I’m far from Paris, to open my email account from any internet club and to forward the emails to my new address. I couldn’t open my old account because then my pursuers would find out where I was. But if Fred opened my e-mails, then it would be Fred’s location that they would discover. Fred had done so, and I received the letters from him. On his part, Fred let me know that Soros had transferred the sum. Then there was another letter, written by my daughter, Mariam. This is what the letter said: “Hello, Daddy. You know, we have two turtles and a dog. We keep the dog in the yard at Ichevan. A boy gave us that dog. The boy was walking with the dog in his arms, when I said, ‘what a nice dog.’ He said, ‘I’m going to get rid of it; I have a new one. If you want, you can have it.’ So I took the dog. It’s a puppy. When grandma found out, she said ‘Take it away,’ and I almost cried. I took him away. The next day, I went to see him. Grandpa asked, ‘where are you going?’ I said, ‘to see the dog.’ He said, ‘what dog, let me see it.’ The dog was on the street. I picked him up and took him to grandpa. He said, ‘why have you thrown him out on the streets, bring it, and keep him here.’ I said, ‘But grandma won’t let me.’ He said, ‘it’s not what grandma says that goes here;’ and grandma and grandpa had a fight. And now, right now, the dog is sleeping. Dad, maybe you don’t approve of it, but I can’t tell you how happy I am. I have two animals; I have a papa and a mama, two grandmas and one grandpa.” This was the letter.

My emotions were in turmoil. One minute tears covered my eyes, the next minute laughter regaled my heart. And I started thinking, thinking about my children. First I thought about Mariam; I thought and thought and then thought some more. And those thoughts made me happy. Then I thought about Ashot; I thought long about Ashot. Then I thought about little Shushan, who in fact was born on Freedom Square and who doesn’t know me yet. Then I thought about my son who is yet to be born, and whose name I had picked years ago. Then, I thought about Davit. I thought about Sipan, who had put flyers about the demonstrations among the documents of the authorities and when the latter had opened their envelopes, the first thing they had seen were the flyers.

I thought about the children of my friends. First I thought about Ghevond and his sister Hermine, who, being of school age had managed to be detained in the Kentron Police headquarters with her brother, Tevos. I didn’t think about Tevos because Tevos is already an adult. Then I thought about the children of my other brothers in prison, whom I either don’t know or don’t remember their names. Then I thought about Tzovinar, whom I don’t know, but whose poetry I had read in the newspaper “Aravot” and remember her name in that context. Then I thought about Beto who made us cry with his presentation. Then, I thought about Mariam and Vakous. Then I thought about Levon, Hratch, Areg and Nare. Then I thought about Shogher, who was ‘lost’ one day; I’ll never forget Mher’s face at that moment as long as I live. Then I thought about Hrayr, Tatev and Narek. Then I thought about Aspram. Then I thought about Shushan. Then I thought about Levon, Hakob and Lucine. Then I thought about Beno, about Haykouhi and Anahit. Then I thought about Mary, Ashot and Valodik. Then I thought about Narek and Sarine. Then I thought about Nver. Then I thought about Raissa, whose gift of a cross to me I still have.

Then I thought about Lianchik. Then I thought about Hrach and Vahe. Then I thought about Milena. Then I thought about Vahag and Hebo. Then I thought about Narek and Misoul, whose grandfather spent 5 months in prison. Then I thought about Aram, Anna and Gor. Then I thought about Araxi. Then I thought about Abkar and Armenak. Then I thought about Leovik. Then I thought about Vahak and Kimoush. Then I thought about Gougoul. Then I thought about Lyoubik and Araxi. Then I thought about Tamarik, Milena and Alessia. Then I thought about Sophie. Then I thought about Grigor. Then I thought about Seno and Aghounik. Then I thought about Sevada and Anahit. Then I thought about Vika and Ani. Then I thought about Rafael. Then I thought about Edil. Then I thought about Grishik. Then I thought about Goharik and Astghik. Then I thought about Robert.

I started thinking… I know so few of the children. Then I remembered the kids in the group “Arevik” whose songs echoed on Freedom Square for ten days. Then I remembered that I was born on June 1, on International Children’s Day. Then I thought about the children:

“They will live in a Free and Happy Armenia,” I promised myself.

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