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Back Look to the Truth
00:05, December 21, 2012
http://hetq.am/eng/articles/21742/back-look-to-the-truth.html
Razmik Markosyan
There are people whose life sounds as genius speech. Blessed are those
who stand near and listen to them. Blessed are those who witness as
the life of such people is incredible, and their uniqueness is
indescribable as a privilege granted by God. These people live as
geniuses. They are never wrong. Their slips are directed at a certain
target. They can only slip up and retreat only to the truth.
* * *
I know one of them. What bliss... I was the witness not only of his
unique lifestyle, but also I was his brother and best friend. I would
like to emphasize our friendship, because for my brother all kinds of
relations were incomplete, if they were not intertwined with
friendship.
Onik was my parents' eldest son, and I was the junior. Our family was
large, and there was a difference of 14 years between us. It took long
time for us to break the age barrier and for my brother to lend me a
hand of companionship. Before that I was the spectator of his
remarkable life. Frankly speaking, the age did not matter; he was in
the center of everyone's attention, including my parents. Their
attitude towards my brother was a little bit unusual: the respect was
above all feelings.
Onik's word was the unwritten law in our home. He was our protector,
the firmness of our castle and the easiness of our conscience. He was
like a light; he cared for all of us, and everything was going smooth.
Wherever he was, he dominated over the situation but not on his own
will; he was appointed. He would not tolerate mistakes; he both won
and was defeated, he liked to put everything in their places. People
around him always tried to find what they were seeking.
I was impressed in my teenage years when I was present at some
meetings held in our house that step by step were formulating me as an
individual. My brother's eyes would secretly watch me attentively
listening to the courageous speech of slightly drunk Paruyr Sevak,
interesting stories of Vahan Mirakyan, and the humor of Edmon
Keosayan. Some of my brother's friends now stand by me; from the rest
I remember a collective image of a unique, wise and creative person.
Accompanying his friends after those warm and exciting evenings, he
would call me, seat next to him, putting his hand on my shoulder, and
forgetting his strict, a little bit parental behavior, would ask me
innocent questions and give wise advices. `Choose a right path in your
life. Choosing your path you choose your destiny'.
Usually people do enjoy doing a kind act. My brother did not live a
day without doing something good but whatever he did he considered his
duty. I remember how he was concerned about Sevak's house in
Chanakhchi village that was too far from the road. It was difficult to
get to the remote part of the village both for the villagers and
guests. The solution to this problem seemed impossible. But my brother
found the way. The road was built stretching from the left side of the
highway to the end of the village. The houses far from the old road
became the nearest to the new one. Today, that same road leads us to
our favourite poet's house that became a unique sanctuary.
Thus, thousands of hardships and difficulties were overcome due to his
friends. No doubt, he was really very happy for all that, but it was
happiness of a friend, not the triumph of a benefactor.
It was my elder brother's life. He would not stand undesirable
situations or unsolved problems as if he were born to overcome the
difficulties.
But then came a day, when my brother was obliged to be present at a
trial. And I was sitting on the dock as a political criminal. It was
awful scene for my relatives. As usual, everybody was looking at Onik.
My activity, however fair and lawful, was defined as a violation
against the Soviet state system and the court set a punishment:
four-year arrest of strict regime and two-year exile.
Some time after the trial I was exiled with sensitive companionship of
KGB. I was far from everything that was dear for me: my country, our
home and yard, the busybody elders of my family and the careless
youngest ones, and my brother with clever and bright eyes.
I was taken to Mordovia. In that stage of my life I became
25-years-old. On that day, probably, my family members were sometimes
grieving, and sometimes console each other. I could imagine all of
them, one by one, except for Onik. I knew that nobody and nothing
could help me, that's why I could not imagine him.
The prison system never kept the political prisoners in the same place
for a long time. I was always taken from one camp to another. From
Mordovia I was taken to Ural, from Ural toKazakhstan, then to
Mangishlak, and in all my `temporary shelters' Onik tried to visit me
but he rarely could manage as the system punished me by depriving of
visits. Sometimes I could get only two-hours appointment instead of
two-day visit. In such cases I refused myself taking into
consideration the distance and other difficulties.
Two days would it be or two hours, our meetings passed as two minutes.
During those minutes, exhausted and depressed but filled with
surprising passion, I was telling my brother the motives and goals of
my struggle hoping that he would support me with his uprightness. I
need his ideological support and I was sure that he couldn't refuse.
But every time I was surprised and saddened to see that my brother
opposed to me. At times he inspired me, at times claimed to give up
and refuse struggling. But I took the lesson of virility from my
brother, a man of principles, so I would never retreat. Me, who even
never dared to smoke at his presence, even being allowed to, me was
arguing with him about Soviet anti-national policy and our national
identity. I was trying to prove to my brother that the criminals were
those who accused me. The proof was the fact that I was deprived of
liberty because I demanded to respect the USSR Constitution which gave
all nations the right to freely secede from the Union as well as the
right to freely join theUnion, but the second law was strongly
advocated though having the same force of law as the first one. And
this fact was the testimony to that I was accused unfairly... Our
historical past was present in each day of our life, and our present
life for me was as historical as the past.
Thus, the meeting with me was over, but our relatives inYerevanwere
waiting for my brother with their hopeless gaze to the unknown future...
Shortly after my imprisonment KGB began putting pressure on my family.
Soviet security system was expert in finding exact targets. The first
target was my brother; he was transferred from the position of the
general director of the Union factory to another job (by profession my
brother was pilot, economist, engineer and worked in the exact
electrical plant). My sister, the author of many books, dictionaries,
numerous translations, who lectured at the Pedagogical Institute, was
fired without any explanation. Even thousands of years after 1937, the
country of hammer and sickle must beware of its citizens able to think
and their relationship with the public.
Days in prison were passing hard leaving their heavy impact on
everything. My mind was concentrated on the constantly changing
distorted image of the time. Sometimes, the time seemed as stony as
ice and the seconds seemed hours. The passing day sometimes seemed to
be melted into the past, moving backwards. However, despite of my
thoughts and feelings, the years were passing, and my arrest was
approaching to end. Only ten days was left before my return, and my
thoughts lead me to my home: I was trying to catch up with the real
time to feel the lawful privilege of being free, when suddenly I was
accused of the attempt to escape, and my case was handed over to the
court. Even with total absence of corpus delicti, I was again
sentenced. The trial performed by professional jugglers of KGB made
the verdict to extend my punishment by 3 years. This was a final shock
for me and my relatives
And my brother... When I saw him after the trial, amazingly he was no
longer tensed as before. He looked at me as if he had retreated and
said, `I always wanted to tell you something, never give up your
struggle'. I was thunderstruck. Looking at his eyes I understood
suddenly that during all these years he had been struggling against my
ideas only for my welfare. As a relative of a person sentencing
himself to death, my brother tried to keep me back from my decision.
He spared no effort to convince me that I chose the wrong way, that
there were other ways of manifestation of patriotism. All for me, so
that I wouldn't be lost in the clutches of the sanguineous eyed
monster that was keeping the destiny of people in his hand. But the
game was over, and the loser was the game itself. Simply, the
monster's power could not be fully estimated. And now, he was looking
at me, my brother, my friend whose slips were directed at a certain
target, who both won and was defeated, who liked to put everything in
their places. He was looking at me trying to hide the difficulty of
laying down weapons and watching your brother throwing himself into
the fire.
* * *
Today, people are more likely to believe in the end of the world than
in the collapse ofSoviet Unionin those years. But theUSSRwas collapsed
because had been fed with the blood of its own citizens. The
sanguineous eyed monster was crashed down. I am sure thatSoviet
Unionwas collapsed because my brother, though having great desire,
could not fulfill the role of its defendant because he could not stand
the morality of the system. My brother would never undertake that
role. That role was the greatest self-sacrifice in his life which was
not changed in the course of matters.
That night I fell asleep and saw my brother in my dream. He called me,
seat next to him, put his friendly hand on my shoulder as he used to
do, and said, `I always wanted to tell you: choose a right path in
your life. Choosing your path you choose your destiny'.
Many years have passed since then. Now there is a barrier of life and
immortality between us: almost the same age difference, but now I am
the elder. Now I tell him, `My dear brother, how great was the ransom
that you paid for me. Although I did not accept it, I thought I would
have done the same if I were you. I am sure that even you would have
chosen the same path as a destiny if you were me. But we cannot choose
our roles in life. They are defined intrinsically. And, I always
wanted to tell you something: how glorious you lived on earth'.
00:05, December 21, 2012
http://hetq.am/eng/articles/21742/back-look-to-the-truth.html
Razmik Markosyan
There are people whose life sounds as genius speech. Blessed are those
who stand near and listen to them. Blessed are those who witness as
the life of such people is incredible, and their uniqueness is
indescribable as a privilege granted by God. These people live as
geniuses. They are never wrong. Their slips are directed at a certain
target. They can only slip up and retreat only to the truth.
* * *
I know one of them. What bliss... I was the witness not only of his
unique lifestyle, but also I was his brother and best friend. I would
like to emphasize our friendship, because for my brother all kinds of
relations were incomplete, if they were not intertwined with
friendship.
Onik was my parents' eldest son, and I was the junior. Our family was
large, and there was a difference of 14 years between us. It took long
time for us to break the age barrier and for my brother to lend me a
hand of companionship. Before that I was the spectator of his
remarkable life. Frankly speaking, the age did not matter; he was in
the center of everyone's attention, including my parents. Their
attitude towards my brother was a little bit unusual: the respect was
above all feelings.
Onik's word was the unwritten law in our home. He was our protector,
the firmness of our castle and the easiness of our conscience. He was
like a light; he cared for all of us, and everything was going smooth.
Wherever he was, he dominated over the situation but not on his own
will; he was appointed. He would not tolerate mistakes; he both won
and was defeated, he liked to put everything in their places. People
around him always tried to find what they were seeking.
I was impressed in my teenage years when I was present at some
meetings held in our house that step by step were formulating me as an
individual. My brother's eyes would secretly watch me attentively
listening to the courageous speech of slightly drunk Paruyr Sevak,
interesting stories of Vahan Mirakyan, and the humor of Edmon
Keosayan. Some of my brother's friends now stand by me; from the rest
I remember a collective image of a unique, wise and creative person.
Accompanying his friends after those warm and exciting evenings, he
would call me, seat next to him, putting his hand on my shoulder, and
forgetting his strict, a little bit parental behavior, would ask me
innocent questions and give wise advices. `Choose a right path in your
life. Choosing your path you choose your destiny'.
Usually people do enjoy doing a kind act. My brother did not live a
day without doing something good but whatever he did he considered his
duty. I remember how he was concerned about Sevak's house in
Chanakhchi village that was too far from the road. It was difficult to
get to the remote part of the village both for the villagers and
guests. The solution to this problem seemed impossible. But my brother
found the way. The road was built stretching from the left side of the
highway to the end of the village. The houses far from the old road
became the nearest to the new one. Today, that same road leads us to
our favourite poet's house that became a unique sanctuary.
Thus, thousands of hardships and difficulties were overcome due to his
friends. No doubt, he was really very happy for all that, but it was
happiness of a friend, not the triumph of a benefactor.
It was my elder brother's life. He would not stand undesirable
situations or unsolved problems as if he were born to overcome the
difficulties.
But then came a day, when my brother was obliged to be present at a
trial. And I was sitting on the dock as a political criminal. It was
awful scene for my relatives. As usual, everybody was looking at Onik.
My activity, however fair and lawful, was defined as a violation
against the Soviet state system and the court set a punishment:
four-year arrest of strict regime and two-year exile.
Some time after the trial I was exiled with sensitive companionship of
KGB. I was far from everything that was dear for me: my country, our
home and yard, the busybody elders of my family and the careless
youngest ones, and my brother with clever and bright eyes.
I was taken to Mordovia. In that stage of my life I became
25-years-old. On that day, probably, my family members were sometimes
grieving, and sometimes console each other. I could imagine all of
them, one by one, except for Onik. I knew that nobody and nothing
could help me, that's why I could not imagine him.
The prison system never kept the political prisoners in the same place
for a long time. I was always taken from one camp to another. From
Mordovia I was taken to Ural, from Ural toKazakhstan, then to
Mangishlak, and in all my `temporary shelters' Onik tried to visit me
but he rarely could manage as the system punished me by depriving of
visits. Sometimes I could get only two-hours appointment instead of
two-day visit. In such cases I refused myself taking into
consideration the distance and other difficulties.
Two days would it be or two hours, our meetings passed as two minutes.
During those minutes, exhausted and depressed but filled with
surprising passion, I was telling my brother the motives and goals of
my struggle hoping that he would support me with his uprightness. I
need his ideological support and I was sure that he couldn't refuse.
But every time I was surprised and saddened to see that my brother
opposed to me. At times he inspired me, at times claimed to give up
and refuse struggling. But I took the lesson of virility from my
brother, a man of principles, so I would never retreat. Me, who even
never dared to smoke at his presence, even being allowed to, me was
arguing with him about Soviet anti-national policy and our national
identity. I was trying to prove to my brother that the criminals were
those who accused me. The proof was the fact that I was deprived of
liberty because I demanded to respect the USSR Constitution which gave
all nations the right to freely secede from the Union as well as the
right to freely join theUnion, but the second law was strongly
advocated though having the same force of law as the first one. And
this fact was the testimony to that I was accused unfairly... Our
historical past was present in each day of our life, and our present
life for me was as historical as the past.
Thus, the meeting with me was over, but our relatives inYerevanwere
waiting for my brother with their hopeless gaze to the unknown future...
Shortly after my imprisonment KGB began putting pressure on my family.
Soviet security system was expert in finding exact targets. The first
target was my brother; he was transferred from the position of the
general director of the Union factory to another job (by profession my
brother was pilot, economist, engineer and worked in the exact
electrical plant). My sister, the author of many books, dictionaries,
numerous translations, who lectured at the Pedagogical Institute, was
fired without any explanation. Even thousands of years after 1937, the
country of hammer and sickle must beware of its citizens able to think
and their relationship with the public.
Days in prison were passing hard leaving their heavy impact on
everything. My mind was concentrated on the constantly changing
distorted image of the time. Sometimes, the time seemed as stony as
ice and the seconds seemed hours. The passing day sometimes seemed to
be melted into the past, moving backwards. However, despite of my
thoughts and feelings, the years were passing, and my arrest was
approaching to end. Only ten days was left before my return, and my
thoughts lead me to my home: I was trying to catch up with the real
time to feel the lawful privilege of being free, when suddenly I was
accused of the attempt to escape, and my case was handed over to the
court. Even with total absence of corpus delicti, I was again
sentenced. The trial performed by professional jugglers of KGB made
the verdict to extend my punishment by 3 years. This was a final shock
for me and my relatives
And my brother... When I saw him after the trial, amazingly he was no
longer tensed as before. He looked at me as if he had retreated and
said, `I always wanted to tell you something, never give up your
struggle'. I was thunderstruck. Looking at his eyes I understood
suddenly that during all these years he had been struggling against my
ideas only for my welfare. As a relative of a person sentencing
himself to death, my brother tried to keep me back from my decision.
He spared no effort to convince me that I chose the wrong way, that
there were other ways of manifestation of patriotism. All for me, so
that I wouldn't be lost in the clutches of the sanguineous eyed
monster that was keeping the destiny of people in his hand. But the
game was over, and the loser was the game itself. Simply, the
monster's power could not be fully estimated. And now, he was looking
at me, my brother, my friend whose slips were directed at a certain
target, who both won and was defeated, who liked to put everything in
their places. He was looking at me trying to hide the difficulty of
laying down weapons and watching your brother throwing himself into
the fire.
* * *
Today, people are more likely to believe in the end of the world than
in the collapse ofSoviet Unionin those years. But theUSSRwas collapsed
because had been fed with the blood of its own citizens. The
sanguineous eyed monster was crashed down. I am sure thatSoviet
Unionwas collapsed because my brother, though having great desire,
could not fulfill the role of its defendant because he could not stand
the morality of the system. My brother would never undertake that
role. That role was the greatest self-sacrifice in his life which was
not changed in the course of matters.
That night I fell asleep and saw my brother in my dream. He called me,
seat next to him, put his friendly hand on my shoulder as he used to
do, and said, `I always wanted to tell you: choose a right path in
your life. Choosing your path you choose your destiny'.
Many years have passed since then. Now there is a barrier of life and
immortality between us: almost the same age difference, but now I am
the elder. Now I tell him, `My dear brother, how great was the ransom
that you paid for me. Although I did not accept it, I thought I would
have done the same if I were you. I am sure that even you would have
chosen the same path as a destiny if you were me. But we cannot choose
our roles in life. They are defined intrinsically. And, I always
wanted to tell you something: how glorious you lived on earth'.