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Mouradian: The Sound of Footsteps on April 24 in Istanbul
By: Khatchig Mouradian
Armenian Weekly
Fri, Apr 30 2010
If you were one of the few hundred people in Istanbul that publicly
commemorated the Armenian Genocide on April 24, 2010, you probably
heard the sound of footsteps.
Activists holding photos of murdered Armenian intellectuals during the
Genocide commemoration at the Haydarpasha Station in Istanbul. (Photo
by Mujgan Arpat)
I am not referring to the footsteps of the defiant Turks, Kurds, and
Armenians who gathered at open-air commemoration events. Nor am I
referring to the footsteps of counter-demonstrators holding placards
that read, `The Armenian Genocide is an imperialist lie,' and yelling,
`Death to the Armenian Diaspora.'
Daniel Varoujan - the prominent Armenian poet who was arrested on April
24, 1915 and eventually killed, just like hundreds of his fellow
Armenian intellectuals - says in one of his poems that he can `hear the
footsteps of a rose-flooded dawn' of victory. From a distance of 95
years, you probably were hearing, dear friend, the sound of the very
same footsteps.
I know I was.
And the sounds of footsteps were gradually becoming louder.
I was hearing those footsteps as I watched Kurdish women hold pictures
of their `disappeared' sons and pictures of Armenian intellectuals
murdered in 1915. I was hearing those footsteps as I was at the
commemoration at the Haydarpasha Station. I was hearing those
footsteps as I was delivering a genocide commemoration lecture in
Beyoglu. And I was hearing those footsteps during the vigil on Taksim
Square.
An activist holding Varoujan's picture at one of the commemoration
events in Istanbul on April 24. (Photo by Khatchig Mouradian)
The footsteps of Varoujan's rose-flooded dawn of victory.
The victory of memory over amnesia, affirmation over denial, and
action over indifference.
On April 24, 2010, I was in Istanbul for you, Varoujan. For all that
your work, your life, and your murder means to me. And I, too, heard
the footsteps.
The Turkish version of this article appears in this week's issue of Agos.
By: Khatchig Mouradian
Armenian Weekly
Fri, Apr 30 2010
If you were one of the few hundred people in Istanbul that publicly
commemorated the Armenian Genocide on April 24, 2010, you probably
heard the sound of footsteps.
Activists holding photos of murdered Armenian intellectuals during the
Genocide commemoration at the Haydarpasha Station in Istanbul. (Photo
by Mujgan Arpat)
I am not referring to the footsteps of the defiant Turks, Kurds, and
Armenians who gathered at open-air commemoration events. Nor am I
referring to the footsteps of counter-demonstrators holding placards
that read, `The Armenian Genocide is an imperialist lie,' and yelling,
`Death to the Armenian Diaspora.'
Daniel Varoujan - the prominent Armenian poet who was arrested on April
24, 1915 and eventually killed, just like hundreds of his fellow
Armenian intellectuals - says in one of his poems that he can `hear the
footsteps of a rose-flooded dawn' of victory. From a distance of 95
years, you probably were hearing, dear friend, the sound of the very
same footsteps.
I know I was.
And the sounds of footsteps were gradually becoming louder.
I was hearing those footsteps as I watched Kurdish women hold pictures
of their `disappeared' sons and pictures of Armenian intellectuals
murdered in 1915. I was hearing those footsteps as I was at the
commemoration at the Haydarpasha Station. I was hearing those
footsteps as I was delivering a genocide commemoration lecture in
Beyoglu. And I was hearing those footsteps during the vigil on Taksim
Square.
An activist holding Varoujan's picture at one of the commemoration
events in Istanbul on April 24. (Photo by Khatchig Mouradian)
The footsteps of Varoujan's rose-flooded dawn of victory.
The victory of memory over amnesia, affirmation over denial, and
action over indifference.
On April 24, 2010, I was in Istanbul for you, Varoujan. For all that
your work, your life, and your murder means to me. And I, too, heard
the footsteps.
The Turkish version of this article appears in this week's issue of Agos.