среда, 14 марта 2012 г.

ԵՍ ՈՒ ՈՐԴԻՍ ME AND MY SON

 êϽµáõÙ, »ñµ ¹»é ã·Çï»Ç, áñ µáÉáñÇó ³Ýï³Ý»ÉÇ ï³ñµ»ñí»Éáõ »Ù, µ³Ûó ½·áõÙ ¿Çª ÇÝÓ Ñ»ï ÇÝã-áñ µ³Ý ³ÛÝ ã¿, ³é³Ýó »ïÇÝ ÙïùÇ, áïù»ñë ͳÉáõÙ ¿Ç ï³ÏÇë, áïݳóûñë áõÕճѳ۳ó ϳݷݻóÝáõÙ ëñáõÝùÝ»ñÇë ¨ ³ãáõÓ³Ë Ý³Û»Éáíª ÇÝùݳ·áÑ ÅåïáõÙ. §Î³ñá±Õ »ù, ¹áõù ¿É ÷áñÓ»ù, ϳñÍáõÙ »ùª Ñ»±ßï ¿¦: ÄåÇïë ³ÏÝóñÃáñ»Ý ãùíáõÙ ¿ñ, »ñµ ½ñáõÛóÇ µéÝí³Í Ñáñ³ùáõÛñÝ»ñë áõ ï³ïë ÙdzÛÝ ³ãùÇ åáãáí ¿ÇÝ Ý³ÛáõÙ ³Ïñáµ³ïÇÏ ¹ÇñùÇë áõ ³ÝÝÏ³ï ³ÝóÝáõÙ Ùáñë Éí³ó³Í ëåÇï³Ï»Õ»ÝÇ Ãáõݹ Ù³ùñáõÃÛ³Ý ùÝݳñÏÙ³ÝÁ: âÝ³Û³Í ÇÙ µáÉáñ ùñïݳÃáñ ç³Ýù»ñÇÝ, ¨ Ç Ñ³Ï³é³Ï ûÓÇ å»ë ·³É³ñáõÝ Ù³ñÙÝÇë, »ñµ ¹åñáóÝ ³í³ñïáõÙ ¿Ç, áëÏ» Ù»¹³É ãëï³ó³, ù³ÝÇ áñ §ýǽÏáõÉïáõñ³ë¦ §4¦ ¿ñ:
лïá, ³é³Ýó Ïáïñ³ïí»Éáõ, ëÏë»óÇ §Ï³ñ׳ï»ëǦ ³ÏÝáó Ïñ»É, ûå»ï ѳÙá½í³Í ¿Ç, áñ ³ÙµáÕç ¹³ë³ñ³ÝÁ, ݳ¨ ³ÙµáÕç ¹åñáóÁ µ³ó»Çµ³ó ͳÕñ»Éáõ ¿ª ãáñë³ãù³~ÝÇ: ø³Õ³ùÇ ³ÕçÇÏ Ù³Ûñë åݹáõÙ ¿ñª ûåïÇÏ³Ï³Ý ³ÏÝáóÝ ³ÝÑñ³Å»ßï ¿ª ï»ëáÕáõÃÛáõݹ å³Ñå³Ý»Éáõ ѳٳñ, ѳÛñë ѳϳ׳éáõÙ ¿ñª ³Õçϳë ë¨ Ñ³ÏÇÝÃÝ»ñÁ ãͳÍÏ»ë, ¹áõñë ϳݻÙ, ùáõÛñë áõ »Õµ³Ûñë ÙÇ ³ÝÏÛáõÝáõÙ ÷ë÷ëáõÙ áõ ùÃÝ»ñÇ ï³Ï ÍÇͳÕáõÙ ¿Çݪ ³ÏÝáó³~íáñ: ØÇ ù³ÝÇ ³ÙÇë ³Ýó ³ÏÝáóë ÁÝϳí áõ ѳ½³ñ ÷ßáõñ »Õ³í, »ë ³½³ï ßáõÝã ù³ß»óÇ:
²ñ¹»Ý »ñ»ëáõÝ ï³ñÇ ¿ª ³ÏÝáó ã»Ù ÏñáõÙ, ûå»ï ï»ëáÕáõÃÛáõÝë íï³Ý·³íáñ í³ï³ó»É ¿: ̳ÝáÃ-³ÝͳÝáÃÇ ÏáÕùáí ³ÝóÝ»ÉÇë ³Ï³Ù³ ÅåïáõÙ »Ù. Ù³°ñ¹ »ë, áñ ã³ë»Ýª ï»ëÝáõÙª ãÇ µ³ñ¨áõÙ, ÇëÏ áñ Ù»ÏÇ ëÇÉáõ»ïÁ ѳñ³½³ï Ñáëù»ñ ¿ áõÕ³ñÏáõÙ, ÑÇÝ ëáíáñáõÛÃÇ áõÅáí ³ãù»ñë ÏÏáóáõÙ »Ù, ï»ëݻ٪ á±ñ ÙÇ ë»ñë ¿: ²ãù»ñë Ñ³×³Ë »Ù ÏÏáóáõÙ, µ³Ûó ³Ù»Ý ³Ý·³Ù Ñáõë³Ë³µ »Ù ÉÇÝáõÙ. ÑÇÝ-ÑÇÝ ë»ñ»ñÇóë Ñ»ïù ãÇ Ùݳó»É, ÇëÏ ³ãù»ñÇë ³ÝÏÛáõÝÝ»ñáõÙ ÏÝ×ÇéÝ»ñ »Ý ѳÛïÝí»É: ØÇ³Ï ÙËÇóñ³Ýùë ³ÝíÝ³ë »ñÏñå³·áõÝ»ñÇë ѳ×áÛ³ËáëáõÃÛáõÝÝ ¿. §²~Ë, ¹áõ ϳñ׳ï»ë »ë, ¹ñ³ ѳٳñ ¿É ÏÏáóáõÙ »ë ³ãù»ñ¹, »ë ¿É ³ëáõÙ »Ùª ¿ë ³Õçϳ ³ãù»ñÁ ÙÇ áõñÇß Ï³Ë³ñ¹³Ýù áõÝ»Ý, ï»ëÝ»ëª ÇÝãÇ±ó ¿¦: âϳ ã³ñÇùª ³é³Ýó ÑÙ³ÛùÇ:
γñ ųٳݳÏ, »ñµ »ë ¿É »ñÏáõ ÑÛáõëùáí, µ³ñ³ÉÇÏ, ë¨áõÏ ³ÕçÝ³Ï ¿Ç: àõ Ñ»Ýó ÙÇ ûñ ·ÉËÇ ÁÝϳ, áñ ÙÛáõëÝ»ñÇó í³Ë»Ý³Éáõ ã³÷ ï³ñµ»ñ »Ù, çáõóÏë ÷áÕáóáõ٠ѳݻóÇ å³ïÛ³ÝÇó áõ Ýëï»óÇ §äÇáÝ»ñ å³É³ïÇݦ ÏÇó ù³ñ» ³ëïÇ׳ÝÝ»ñÇݪ µ³ñÓñ³ù³Ý¹³Ï ìɳ¹ÇÙÇñ àõÉÛ³ÝáíÇ Ëñ³ËáõëáÕ Ñ³Û³óùÇ ³é³ç, µ³ñÓÇÏë ͳÝñáõÙ»Í Ï³å»óÇ ÍÝáïÇë ï³Ï, ÷áùñÇÏ, ɳù³Ñáï çáõóÏë ¹»Ù ïíÇ µ³ñÓÇÏÇë áõ ëÏë»óÇ ×½í½³óÝ»É: ²ÝóÝáÕ-¹³ñÓáÕ Ý³ÛáõÙ ¿ÇÝ áõ ÅåÇïÝ»ñÁ ßáÕ³óÝ»Éáíª ½·áõß³óÝáõÙ. §ì»’ñ, ù³ñÁ ë³éÝ ¿, ÏÙñë»ë…, ³÷ëáë ¿, ɳñ»ñÁ ÏåáÏ»ë, ¹Çñ ýáõïÉÛ³ñÇ Ù»ç, ï³ñ ïáõݪ å³ÑǦ:
ìɳ¹ÇÙÇñ ÆÉÛÇãÇ Ý»ñϳÛáõÃÛ³Ùµ ϳ۳ó³Í ÇÙ ³é³çÇÝ áõ í»ñçÇÝ Ñ³Ù»ñ·Çó Ñ»ïá çáõóÏë í³×³é»óÇÝ Ù³ñ½Ï»ÝïñáÝÇó »Ï³Í ÙÇ ÏÝáç, áñÇ ÍÝáïÇ ï³ÏÇ Ï³ñÙÇñÁ Ù»Ëí»É ¿ ÑÇßáÕáõÃÛ³Ýë Ù»ç: §ºñ¨Ç Ù»Í çáõóϳѳñ ¿¦, - ³é³çÇÝ ÏáñëïÇë ó³íÝ ³Ûëå»ë ÷³ñ³ï»Éáíª çáõóÏë ٻͳÑá·³µ³ñ ѳÝÓÝ»óÇ ï³Õ³Ý¹³ß³ï »ñ³ÅßïÇ Ñá·³ÍáõÃÛ³ÝÁ: ػͳí³ñÇ Ï»ÕÍ Ååï³óÇ ¨ ¹áõñë ÷³Ë³ª ³ñóáõÝùÝ»ñë ëñµ»Éáõ:
ÆÝÓÝÇó çáõóϳѳñ ¹áõñë ã»Ï³í, ÇëÏ ä³·³ÝÇÝÇÇÝ ³Ûëûñ ¿É å³ßïáõÙ »Ù á’ã ÙdzÛÝ ¨ á’ã ³ÛÝù³Ý §íÇñïáõὦ ϳï³ñáõÙÝ»ñÇ, ³Ûɨ ػݳÏÇ Çñ ÇÝùݳµ³íáõÃÛ³Ý Ñ³Ù³ñ:
¶³ñݳÝÁª àÕçÇ ·»ïÁ í³ñ³ñ»ÉáõÝ å»ë, ÙáÉǵ¹»Ýáí É»ñ¹³ó³Í çáõñÁ, ÏáÏáñ¹ÇÉáëÇ Ï³ßíÇ ÝÙ³Ý ÷³ÛÉÏï»Éáí, Ñáñ¹áõÙ ¿ñ áõ ͳÝͳÕáõÙ §ÊíáëïǦ µ³ó³ïáõÙ, ë³Ï³ÛÝ àÕçÇÝ ÇÙ »ñ¨³Ï³ÛáõÃÛáõÝÁ µáñµáùáõÙ ¿ñ á’ã û ³Õïáïí³Í çñÇ áëÏ»¹»ÕÇÝ åÕåç³ÏÝ»ñáí, ³ÛÉ Â»Ù½³ áõ ê»Ý³ ·»ï»ñÇ ÝÙ³ÝáõÃÛ³Ùµª ù³Õ³ùÁ µ³Å³Ý»Éáí µÉñÇ É³ÝçÇÝ ³Ûë áõ ³ÛÝï»Õ Ïáõã »Ï³Í Ñ³í³µÝ»ñÇ, ѳïáõÏ»Ýï áã˳ñÇ ÷³ñ³ËÝ»ñÇ, ϳñïáýÇÉÇ §µáëï³ÝÝ»ñǦ Ñáíí»ñ·³Ï³Ý ǹÇÉdzÛÇ ¨ ·áõݳíáñ Ù»ï³Éáõñ·Ç³ÛÇ ³é³ç³ï³ñ »éáõ½»éÇ, »ñÏÝùÇ Ëáñ ϳåáõÛïÇ Ù»ç íÝ·íÝ·³óáÕ, ù³Õ³ùÁ ÙÏñ³ïáÕ É³ñ»ñÇó Ï³Ë í³·áÝÇÏÝ»ñÇ Ùá·³Ï³Ý ï»Õ³ß³ñÅ»ñÇ áõ ³Ù»ÝûñÛ³ ѳÝù³å³ÛûóáõÙÇó óÝóíáÕ §ëï»ÝϳݻñǦ Ù»ç µ³½Ù³Í µÛáõñ»Õ³å³ÏÛ³ ëå³ëùÇ ßËÏßËÏáó-½ñÝ·áóÇ ÙÇç¨:
ºñµ í»ñçݳϳݳå»ë ѳÙá½í»óÇ, áñ Ç٠׳ݳã³Í ³ß˳ñÑáõÙ ³Ù»Ý µ³Ý Çñ ÑáõÝáí ¿ ·ÝáõÙ, ÇëÏ ÇÝÓ Ñ»ï ÇÝã-áñ µ³Ý ³ÛÝ ã¿, ¸Çù»ÝëÇ áõ ´³É½³ÏÇ ·ñù»ñÁ ¹ñ»óÇ µ³ñÓÇë ï³Ï áõ åÇݹ ùáõÝ Ùï³: ºñ³½áõÙë ï»ë³ª ѳÛïÝí»É »Ù ÙÇ ³Û·áõÙ, áñï»Õ ¸Çù»ÝëÝ áõ ´³É½³ÏÁ ×»Ù»Éáí ³ÝóÝáõÙ »Ý áõ µ³ñÓñ³Ó³ÛÝ ½ñáõóáõÙ: ¼³ñÙ³Ýùáí ÉëáõÙ »Ù, áñ ³Ù»Ý Ù»ÏÝ Çñ Ù³Ûñ»ÝÇáí ¿ ËáëáõÙ, µ³Ûó Ýñ³Ýù ѳßï ÅåïáõÙ »Ý áõ ·ÉËáí ³ÝáõÙ: ºë Ýñ³Ýó »ï¨Çó í³½áõÙ »Ù áõ ѳۻñ»Ý µ³ñ¨áõÙ: Ƶñ »ñÏáõ ÑÛáõëùáí ÷áùñ ³ÕçÇÏ »Ù áõ ÙÇ Ó»éùÇë çáõóÏÇ ¹³ï³ñÏ å³ïÛ³ÝÝ ¿: Üñ³Ýù ëϽµáõ٠ϳëϳͳÝùáí ݳÛáõÙ »Ý Ù»Ï ÇÝÓ, Ù»Ï ÇÙ µáÛÇÝ Ñ³í³ë³ñ çáõóÏÇ å³ïÛ³ÝÇÝ, ³å³ å³ïÛ³Ýë í»ñóÝáõÙ, ¹ÝáõÙ »Ý ϳÕÝáõ ï³Ï, ³ç áõ Ó³Ë ÏáÕÙ»ñÇó Ó»éù»ñë µéÝáõÙ áõ Çñ»Ýó Ñ»ï ï³ÝáõÙ »Ý: Üñ³Ýù Çñ»Ýó É»½íáí »Ý ËáëáõÙ, »ëª ÇÙ, áõ Ù»Ýù ѳٻñ³ßË ½ñáõóáõÙ »Ýù, ÙdzÛÝ Å³Ù³Ý³Ï ³é Å³Ù³Ý³Ï Ýñ³Ýù ·ÉáõËë ßáÛáõÙ »Ý, áõ »ë áõñ³ËáõÃÛáõÝÇó ÃéãÏáïáõÙ »Ù: ì»ñ ϻݳÙ, ï»ëݻ٪ ѳÛñë Ýëï»É ¿ ³ÝÏáÕÝáõë Ùáï áõ ·ÉáõËë ßáÛáõÙ ¿. §øÝǹ Ù»ç ûï³ñ µ³é»ñ ¿Çñ ³ëáõÙ¦: Ðáñë íǽÁ ³Ùáõñ ·ñÏ»óÇ áõ ÙïùáõÙë ³ë³óÇ. §ºë ¿¹å»ë ¿É ·Çï»Ç, áñ ÇÝÓ Ñ»ï ÙÇ µ³Ý ¿Ý ãǦ:
î³ñÇÝ»ñ ³Ýó ¹³ë³ËáëÇë ³ÃáéÁ ×ééáóáí Ïáïñí»ó, »ñµ ÏáïáßÝ»ñë óó»Éáíª åݹ»óÇ. §Ð³ÙÉ»ïÁ ûñ³ñÅ»ùáõÃÛ³Ý µ³ñ¹áõÛà áõÝ»ñ, ù³ÝÇ áñ úý»ÉÛ³Ý Ýñ³ ÏÛ³ÝùÇ ³é³çÇÝ, ÙÇ³Ï ¨ ãí³Û»É³Í ÏÇÝÝ ¿ñ¦: öÉí³Í ³ÃáéÇ Ñ»ï ·»ïÝÇÝ Ñ³ÛïÝí³Í ¹³ë³Ëáëë, ÷ñ÷áõñÁ µ»ñ³ÝÇÝ, ×ãáõÙ ¿ñ. §¸á’õñë, ¹áõñë ÏáñÇ, »ë ³Ù»Ý ½³é³ÝóáÕÇ ã»Ù ùÝÝáõÙ¦: ºñµ ¹»Ï³ÝÁ ÙÇç³Ùï»óª ÏáõñëÇ É³í³·áõÛÝ áõë³ÝáÕÝ»ñÇó ¿, ¹³ë³Ëáëë Ñ»·Ý»ó. §È³~í ¿É ³Ûɳë»ñí³Í ë»ñáõݹ »Ýù ¹³ëïdzñ³ÏáõÙ¦:
´³Ëïë ãµ»ñ»ó ݳ¨ §¶Çï. ³Ã»Ç½ÙǦ ùÝÝáõÃÛ³Ý Å³Ù³Ý³Ï: ²Ý³·» ÷áùñÇÏ Ë³ã ¿Ç Ï³Ë»É áõ Ýëï»É »ñ¹íÛ³É ³Ã»ÇëïÇ ³é³ç: ¶ÉáõËÁ ïÙµïÙµ³óñ»ó áõ ѳ۳óùÁ ˳ãÇóë ãÏïñ»Éáí, ѳëï, ïéáõ½ ßáõñûñÁ óåóå³óÝ»Éáíª Ë³Ûûó. §ºí ¹áõ ѳí³ÏÝáõÙ »ë §²Ã»Ç½ÙÇó¦ §·»ñ³½³Ýó¦ ëï³Ý³É: â»Ù ѳëϳÝáõÙ, ¿ë ë»ñáõݹÁ ÇÝãá±í ¿ Ùï³ÍáõÙ¦: ºñµ é»ÏïáñÁ ÙÇç³Ùï»óª µáõÑÇ É³í³·áõÛÝ áõë³ÝáÕÝ»ñÇó ¿, ¹³ë³Ëáëë Ù»ÕÙ Ïßï³Ùµ³Ýùáí ³ñ¹³ñ³ó³í. §²Ëñ, ¿ëå»ë çáõñ »Ýù ÉóÝáõÙ Ù»ñ ·³Õ³÷³ñ³Ï³Ý ѳϳé³Ïáñ¹Ý»ñÇ çñ³Õ³óÇݦ: êáí»ïÇ ÷Éáõ½áõÙÇó Ñ»ïá ѳٳÉë³ñ³ÝÝ»ñáõÙ ëÏë»óÇÝ §ÎñáÝÇ å³ïÙáõÃÛáõݦ ³ÝóÝ»É: §¶Çï. ³Ã»Ç½ÙǦ ÇÙ ¹³ë³ËáëÁ ÝáõÛÝ ÙáÉ»é³Ý¹áõÃÛ³Ùµ áñ¹áõë §ÎñáÝÇ å³ïÙáõÃÛáõݦ ¿ñ ¹³ë³í³Ý¹áõÙ:
êÏë»óÇ ï³ñ³Ïáõë»É. »±ë »Ù ˻ɳå³Ï³ë, û± ³ß˳ñÑÝ ¿ Ûáà ³Ý·³Ù ã³÷í³Í-Ó¨í³Í áõ ÇÙ Ë»ÉùÇ µ³ÝÁ ã¿: ºñµ ³ãùë ÁÝÏ³í ·ñ³¹³ñ³ÏÇÝ ß³ñí³Í ÑÇÝ áõ Ýáñ ϳ½Ùáí §Ð»ùdzÃÝ»ñÇݦ, ˳ճÕí»óÇ. ѳ’Ù »ë, ѳ’Ù ³ß˳ñÑÁ, ÇëÏ »ñµ ѳ۳óùë Ïïñ»ó ųٳݳÏÇ áõ ï³ñ³ÍùÇ Ñ»éáõÝ»ñÁª ѳëÝ»Éáí ÙáÉǵ¹»ÝÇó ßÝã³Ñ»ÕÓíáÕ àÕçÇ ·»ïÁ, ÃÝÏÃÝÏáóë ¹ñ»óÇ. ¿ë ³Ù»ÝÇ Ù»Õ³íáñÁ »ë »Ù: » ³ë³ª ù»½ÝÇó DZÝã åáÕáë-å»ïñáë ¹áõñë Ï·³, áñ ¿¹ù³Ý ·ÉáõË »ë ç³ñ¹áõÙª ÙÇ Íå»Õ ÷áË»Éáõ ѳٳñ: ø»½ÝÇó ³é³ç ÷áñÓáÕÝ»ñÁ, ·Çï»ë û ù»½ ÝÙ³Ý Ùá½Ç »Ý »Õ»±É, É³í ¿É í³ÛñÇ Ñáí³½Ý»ñ ¿ÇÝ, µ³Ûó ¹» ï³å³Éí³Í Ñáí³½Çó ïËáõñ µ³Ý Ù»Ï ¿É ï³å³Éí³Í ϳÕÝÇÝ ¿: àÝó áõ½áõÙ »ëª ѳßí³ñÏÇñ: »å»ï ³ß˳ñÑÁ ÏÉáñ ¿, µ³Ûó ù»½ ÝÙ³Ý ³ÝѳëϳóáÕÇ Ñ³Ù³ñ ÙÇ ³ÝÏÛáõÝ Ï׳ñíÇ, áñ ÙÇ áïùÇ íñ³ ϳݷݳͪ å³ïÇÅ Ïñ»ëª ÏÛ³ÝùÇ ¹³ëÁ ãë»ñï»Éáõ å³ï׳éáí:
Ü»ñáÕ³ÙÇï ùÙÍÇͳÕáí ÑÇß»óÇ, áñ ÇÝÓ ÙÇßï »ñ»ë »Ý ïí»Éª ѳí³ï³óÝ»Éáí, û »ë É³í³·áõÛÝ áõë³ÝáÕÝ»ñÇó Ù»ÏÝ »Ù, ÇëÏ Ù³Ýϳѳë³Ï ³ÕçݳÏÇ í³é »ñ¨³Ï³ÛáõÃÛ³Ùµ ³Ý·³Ù »ñ³½áõÙ ¿Ç áïù »ñϳñ»É ¸Çù»ÝëÇ áõ ´³É½³ÏÇ Ñ»ï, ÙÇÝã¹»é å³ñ½íáõÙ ¿ª ÙÇ Ñ³ë³ñ³Ï ×ßÙ³ñïáõÃÛáõÝ ã»Ù ѳëϳÝáõÙ. §²ß˳ñÑÁ Íáõé »Ï»É ¿, Íáõé ¿É ·Ý³Éáõ ¿, ¹áõ ù»½ ѳ½³ñ å³ï»å³ï ïáõñ¦:
§ÎñáÝÇ å³ïÙáõÃÛáõݦ ëáíáñ³Í áñ¹Çë ÙÇ ûñ ³ë³ó. §Î³ñÍáõÙ »ëª ï³ñµ»ñ ÉÇÝ»ÉÁ ɳ±í µ³Ý ¿, áñ ¿¹ù³Ý ·ÉáõË »ë ·áíáõÙ: ²ëí³Í ¿. §ºñ³ÝÇ~ Ñá·áí ³Õù³ïÝ»ñÇÝ, áñáíÑ»ï¨ Ýñ³ÝóÝ ¿ »ñÏÝùÇ ³ñù³ÛáõÃÛáõÝÁ¦: ¾Ýå»ë áñª Ñá·Ç¹ ³Õù³ï å³ÑÇñ, ³Ûɳå»ë »ñÏÝùáõÙ ù»½ ÙÇ áï³ï»Õ ¿É ã»Ý ﳦ: àñ¹Çë ½í³ñà ݳۻó ÇÝÓ áõ ³ãùáí ³ñ»ó, »ë ëñïݻջóÇ. §¾ë DZÝã ë»ñáõݹ ¿ ٻͳÝáõÙ¦:
гٳϳñ·ãÇ ³é³ç Ýëï³Í áñ¹Çë, áñ §ã³Ã¦ ¿ñ Ùï»É ¨ ¸áõµ³ÛÇ Çñ ³é³ÝÓݳï³ÝÁ ѳݷëï³óáÕ å³ñëÏáõÑáõ Ñ»ï ³Ý·É»ñ»Ý ½ñáõóáõÙ ¿ñ гý»½Ç ·³½»ÉÝ»ñÇóª Ù»ñà Áݹ Ù»ñà µÝ³·ñÇó ٻ絻ñáõÙ ³Ý»Éáí ¨ å³ñëÏ»ñ»Ý µ³é»ñÝ ³Ý·É»ñ»Ý ï³é»ñáí ß³ñ»Éáí ¿Ïñ³ÝÇÝ, Ëáñ³Ù³ÝÏ áõ ·áÑ Ååï³ó, »ñµ å³ñëÏáõÑÇÝ ³Ý·É»ñ»Ý ï³é»ñáí ѳۻñ»Ý ·ñ»ó гý»½Ç »ñÏïáÕÁ. §ø»½ ÑÇÝ· ûñí³ ÏÛ³Ýù ¿ ïñí³Í ³Ûë í³Õ³ÝóÇÏ Ñ³Ý·ñí³ÝáõÙ, // àõñ³Ë ³åñÇñ, ù³Ý½Ç ³ÝóÛ³ÉÝ áõ ³å³·³Ý áãÇÝã ³ñŻݦ:
ºë ëñÃëñóóÇ. §ê»ñáõݹ »Ù ³ë»É, ¿~¦:    
                                                                                                                                          2009


ME AND MY SON
TRANSLATION BY ANUSH MKRTCHYAN
EDITED BY DR. ALFRED G. MUELLER II

In the beginning, when I still didn’t know that I was going to be very different from others, but felt there was something wrong with me, with good intentions I would sit Indian-style, look around me, and smile complacently. “Try if you can. You think it’s easy?”  
My smile would vanish instantly when my grandma and my chatty aunts gave only a cursory look at my acrobatic position and proceeded to discuss the cleanliness of the linen that my mother had washed. In spite of all my efforts and despite my body being like a convoluted snake, when I left school, I didn’t get a gold medal[1] because my grade in Physical Education was “good,” not “excellent.”
Then, without a fuss, I began to wear glasses to correct my near-sightedness, even though I was sure that all my classmates and the whole school would tease me, calling me “four-eyes.” My mother, being a city girl, insisted, “Eyeglasses are necessary to protect your eyesight.” My father argued, “You should not cover my daughter’s black hyacinths; you’ll see, I’ll get divorced.” My sister and brother whispered in the corner and mocked me, calling me “four-eyes.” A few months later, my glasses fell on the floor and the lenses broke. I breathed freely.                                    
For almost 30 years since then, I haven’t worn glasses, even though my eyesight has seriously deteriorated. When I am walking with other pedestrians, to be on the safe side, I smile to all of them, not to hear them grumble, “She doesn’t even say hello.” And when someone’s silhouette sends me warm rivulets, I typically blink to see which of my former loves passes by. I often squint, but the more I squint, the more disappointed I get; nothing reminds me of my former lovers. Instead, wrinkles have appeared around of my eyes. My only consolation is the compliments paid by my harmless admirers, “Oh, you’re short-sighted! That’s why you squint! And I was thinking - guess this girl’s eyes have some magic shade!” Every cloud has a silver lining.
Once upon a time I was a slim, dark-skinned girl with two pigtails. As soon as I realized that I was frightfully different from others, I pulled my violin out of its case, sat on the stony stairs of the Pioneer Palace in front of Vladimir Ulyanov’s[2]  encouraging glance and, solemnly placing the violin under my chin, I started scraping on the small, lacquer-smelling instrument. The pedestrians who looked my way would warn me with their gleaming smiles, “Stand up, girl, the stone is icy; you may catch a cold,” and “Spare the violin! You’ll cut the strings. Put it back in its case, take it home, and keep it safe.”
After my first and last concert which took place in the presence of Vladimir Ilyich, my violin was sold to a woman from the regional centre. The red spot under her chin is stuck in my memory even after all these years. “She is probably a great violinist,” I thought, consoling the pain of my first loss, and generously gave my violin to the talented musician. I smiled falsely, like an adult, and ran outside to wipe away my tears.
I didn’t make a violinist, but I still adore Paganini, not so much for his virtuoso performances, but for his self-satisfied loneliness.
In spring, when the Voghji River went mad, the polluted water, shining like a crocodile’s skin was flowing, slowed down and turned into a marsh in the “Khvost[3] area. The Voghji stirred my imagination, not with the golden bubbles of its polluted water, but with its similarity to the Thames and the Seine, dividing the city between the Arcadian idyll of intermittent chicken coops, sheep cots, and potato fields seen at the foot of the hill and the advanced hustle and bustle of iron metallurgy, the magical movement of small wagons hung from the wires crisscrossing the town’s deep blue sky, and the clinking of crystal dishes in china cabinets shaking from the mine explosions.
When I was convinced once and for all that in the world I knew everything was all right, and that something was simply wrong with me, I put books by Dickens and Balzac under my pillow and fell fast asleep. In my dreams, I saw myself in a garden where Dickens and Balzac were walking and talking loudly. I was surprised to hear each of them talking his native tongue, but nodding and smiling understandingly. I saw my young self in pigtails with my empty violin case in my hand running after them and greeting them in Armenian. At first, they looked at me and my violin case with suspicion. They took my case from me and set it under the oak tree and then, each holding my hand, they took me with them. They spoke in their native languages; I spoke in mine. We talked peacefully. From time to time one of them would stroke my hair, and I leaped up and down with joy. As soon as I woke up, I saw my father sitting near my bed stroking my hair, “You were speaking foreign words in your sleep.” I hugged my father, throwing my arms around his neck, and thought to myself, “I knew something was wrong with me.”
Years later, my professor’s chair collapsed under him when I locked horns with him, insisting, “Hamlet suffered from an inferiority complex since Ophelia was the first and the only woman in his life whom he couldn’t enjoy.” My professor sat up on the floor and screamed at me, “Out! Get out! I don’t argue with crazy people.” When the dean intervened on my behalf, saying I was one of the best students in the class, my professor said ironically, “What a perverted generation we are bringing up!”
I wasn’t lucky at the exam of “Scientific Atheism,” either. I had a small pewter cross on a chain hung around my neck as I sat in front of a committed atheist. He shook his head and, with his eyes glued to my cross, opened his thick lips to sting me, “And you usually get an ‘excellent’ mark in ‘Atheism.’ I don’t understand how this generation thinks.” When the rector intervened, saying I was one of the best students in college, my professor began justifying himself, scolding the rector, “Oh, behaving like this we do a favor to our ideological opponents.” After the collapse of the Soviet Union, ‘History of Religion’ replaced ‘Scientific Atheism’ in our universities. With the same zeal, my professor of ‘Scientific Atheism’ taught ‘History of Religion’ to my son.
I began to doubt; am I crazy or is the world so perfectly formed that I can’t make heads or tails of it? When I looked at the “Fairy Tales” with old and new covers standing still on my bookshelf, I calmed down; the answer to my question was “Both.” When my glance crossed the distances of time and space, reaching the River Voghji, choking with pollution, I began to whimper: I am to blame for all these things. What will come of you, why do you rack your brains to set the world right? Do you think those who tried before you were tranquil cows? No, they were wild leopards! Only the sight of a dead oak-tree can be more pathetic than the sight of a defeated leopard. Calculate as much as you like. Although this world is round, a thickheaded creature like you can still find a corner to serve the punishment standing on one foot, for not being able to learn the life’s lesson.
With an indulgent grin, I remembered that my teachers had always spoiled me, assuring me that I was one of the best students. More than that, with the bright imagination of a teenage girl, I had even dreamed of being Dickens and Balzac’s peer, even though I could not understand the simple truth, “This world have always been unjust and it’s not going to change any more, no matter how hard you try.”
Once, my son who had learned the “History of Religion” told me, “You think being different is a good thing, something to brag about? It is said, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’ So, keep your spirit poor, or else you won’t find room even for a foot in heaven.” My son happily looked at me and winked. I frowned, “What a generation is this!”
My son was sitting in front of his computer, chatting in English about Hafez’s gazelles with a Persian woman relaxing in her Dubai mansion. From time to time, he would quote from the original and write Persian words in English letters. He smiled slyly and complacently when the Persian woman wrote Hafez’s message in Armenian using English letters, “You have five days in this ephemeral life. Be happy, for the past and the future are worth nothing.”
I shuddered, “What a generation is this!”

2009



[1] Equivalent of graduating with honors.
[2] Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov Lenin, the leader of the Red October Revolution. Here the author talks about the statue.
[3] Tail in Russian 

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