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HEROES AND TRAITORS
http://asbarez.com/109342/heroes-and-traitors/
Thursday, April 11th, 2013
BY MARIA TITIZIAN
Tranquility, stillness, and serenity are words that no longer define
our lives. They were obliterated from our collective narrative
decades ago, maybe centuries ago, perhaps millennia ago. From the
moment I developed the ability to formulate memories I cannot recall
many instances when I was in a tranquil or serene state of mind. We
always seem to be in a whirlpool of distress, in conflict with our
past and struggling to confront the outrages being committed on a
regular basis as we live and breathe in the present.
A recent tragedy that rocked a village, a people and a nation
brought this state of existence more clearly into focus. I do not
want to dwell on the circumstances of this tragedy but rather, I want
to try in a very humble way to celebrate a life that was cut short
but one which possessed an abundance of valor, bravery, patriotism,
love and dedication.
When I read the devastating news of the passing last year of army
doctor Vahe Avetyan after a vicious beating at Harsnaqar, I was
thousands of miles away. I remember vividly the overwhelming nausea
that gripped me when I saw the news. And as I watched hundreds of my
compatriots holding a candlelight vigil for him, I thought my heart
would break with sorrow for not being there to stand beside them,
to express my horror at the action and convey the outrage I felt to
those responsible.
The murdered mayor of Proshian Hratch Mouradian
On April 2, Hratch Mouradian, an Artsakh war hero, compatriot and
friend was gunned down in broad daylight in his native village of
Proshian. I was once again a world away, across the oceans in a country
that is no longer my home. There are no words to describe the feeling
of knowing that the life of a patriot like Hratch meant nothing to the
person who shot that final, fatal bullet. As I read the harrowing news
item about his murder, his wife's image appeared before me and those
of his four young children, who were now left to grow up and navigate
the difficult currents of their lives without the wisdom and guidance
of their father. I thought of my friends Nigol and Zabelle who lived
in Proshian and who had not only developed a close bond of friendship
with Hratch and his family but were among his most ardent supporters
as village leader. I thought of my husband who had discovered much of
Armenia and Artsakh because of Hratch. I thought of my son who after
years of battling the demons of injustice all around him, finally
felt the strength and understood the value of homeland because of
Hratch and his friends. I thought of my daughter at whose wedding
Hratch and his wife danced for hours....and my heart broke once again.
Whatever the motivation for his murder, whether it was political or
personal, whether the murderer thought of all the lives that had been
saved because of Hratch's heroism during the Artsakh war, whether he
cared how the lives of the villagers of Poshian had improved because
of his care and benevolence, the fact is that a man who was a hero
of the nation is now only a memory to all those who knew and loved him.
The image of Hratch that I will always remember is of him dressed
in his army fatigues, standing in the warm living room of our friend
in Goris, his feet set wide apart with his arms clasped behind him,
a sparkle in his eye and a crooked smile on his face. But what will
forever be entrenched in my memory is of him dancing the dance of
Sassoun with his wartime friend and confidante Magich - their dance
was an expression of strength and grace that moved me to tears the
first time I saw them; it was the dance of their lives and shared
experiences, something which only they could understand and something
which defined the very essence of our nation. I am thankful to Hratch
for allowing me to experience it.
I don't want us to forget the Vahe Avetyans and the Hratch Mouradians
of our world. I want us to remember that they were ordinary men who
served for their country and were murdered not by the enemy but by
the traitors of our nation. The continuing impunity and injustice in
our country is the reason why these men and others like them are lost
to us today.
I don't know what good can come from all of this, but I am hopeful,
as we all must be that the real perpetrators will be punished, that no
one in our country shall be above the law, that all those who commit
a crime will understand that their time will come. We need to be
vigilant and we must continue to struggle to ensure that heroes enjoy
the gratitude and appreciation of society and traitors no longer have
a place in our world. I am confident of this because if our nation
can bring forth men like Hratch, then we have much to be hopeful for.
From: Baghdasarian
http://asbarez.com/109342/heroes-and-traitors/
Thursday, April 11th, 2013
BY MARIA TITIZIAN
Tranquility, stillness, and serenity are words that no longer define
our lives. They were obliterated from our collective narrative
decades ago, maybe centuries ago, perhaps millennia ago. From the
moment I developed the ability to formulate memories I cannot recall
many instances when I was in a tranquil or serene state of mind. We
always seem to be in a whirlpool of distress, in conflict with our
past and struggling to confront the outrages being committed on a
regular basis as we live and breathe in the present.
A recent tragedy that rocked a village, a people and a nation
brought this state of existence more clearly into focus. I do not
want to dwell on the circumstances of this tragedy but rather, I want
to try in a very humble way to celebrate a life that was cut short
but one which possessed an abundance of valor, bravery, patriotism,
love and dedication.
When I read the devastating news of the passing last year of army
doctor Vahe Avetyan after a vicious beating at Harsnaqar, I was
thousands of miles away. I remember vividly the overwhelming nausea
that gripped me when I saw the news. And as I watched hundreds of my
compatriots holding a candlelight vigil for him, I thought my heart
would break with sorrow for not being there to stand beside them,
to express my horror at the action and convey the outrage I felt to
those responsible.
The murdered mayor of Proshian Hratch Mouradian
On April 2, Hratch Mouradian, an Artsakh war hero, compatriot and
friend was gunned down in broad daylight in his native village of
Proshian. I was once again a world away, across the oceans in a country
that is no longer my home. There are no words to describe the feeling
of knowing that the life of a patriot like Hratch meant nothing to the
person who shot that final, fatal bullet. As I read the harrowing news
item about his murder, his wife's image appeared before me and those
of his four young children, who were now left to grow up and navigate
the difficult currents of their lives without the wisdom and guidance
of their father. I thought of my friends Nigol and Zabelle who lived
in Proshian and who had not only developed a close bond of friendship
with Hratch and his family but were among his most ardent supporters
as village leader. I thought of my husband who had discovered much of
Armenia and Artsakh because of Hratch. I thought of my son who after
years of battling the demons of injustice all around him, finally
felt the strength and understood the value of homeland because of
Hratch and his friends. I thought of my daughter at whose wedding
Hratch and his wife danced for hours....and my heart broke once again.
Whatever the motivation for his murder, whether it was political or
personal, whether the murderer thought of all the lives that had been
saved because of Hratch's heroism during the Artsakh war, whether he
cared how the lives of the villagers of Poshian had improved because
of his care and benevolence, the fact is that a man who was a hero
of the nation is now only a memory to all those who knew and loved him.
The image of Hratch that I will always remember is of him dressed
in his army fatigues, standing in the warm living room of our friend
in Goris, his feet set wide apart with his arms clasped behind him,
a sparkle in his eye and a crooked smile on his face. But what will
forever be entrenched in my memory is of him dancing the dance of
Sassoun with his wartime friend and confidante Magich - their dance
was an expression of strength and grace that moved me to tears the
first time I saw them; it was the dance of their lives and shared
experiences, something which only they could understand and something
which defined the very essence of our nation. I am thankful to Hratch
for allowing me to experience it.
I don't want us to forget the Vahe Avetyans and the Hratch Mouradians
of our world. I want us to remember that they were ordinary men who
served for their country and were murdered not by the enemy but by
the traitors of our nation. The continuing impunity and injustice in
our country is the reason why these men and others like them are lost
to us today.
I don't know what good can come from all of this, but I am hopeful,
as we all must be that the real perpetrators will be punished, that no
one in our country shall be above the law, that all those who commit
a crime will understand that their time will come. We need to be
vigilant and we must continue to struggle to ensure that heroes enjoy
the gratitude and appreciation of society and traitors no longer have
a place in our world. I am confident of this because if our nation
can bring forth men like Hratch, then we have much to be hopeful for.
From: Baghdasarian