Let your name be a lighthouse for me
Against the mendacious life and the bitter death…
Vahan Teryan
The one who digs a pit may fall into it himself, and it’s good. You should know you’re digging for yourself. I can never imagine myself in the pit, which was dug by somebody else… It would be called a lost life. Now I am in the hole, which I have dug; I woke up exactly at 2 o’clock, with the decision to watch the documentary film in about Vahan Teryan by Shoushan Eprikyan and friends; I watch it, I live it, I’m with Teryan for about an hour… Then a break; I read, I get excited… I’m carried away… I am Vahan and Anahit’s conductor on the Moscow-Tashkent train on October 13, 1919… Is it a fairy tale? My life in Vahan’s world is a fairy tale, and your world is a lie. What a nice thing has been thought over by Gayane Danielyan and the head of the office of the radio station “Azatutiun” in Yerevan Hrayr Tamrazyan to shoot this film specially for our film archive and for me… If there is a good thing in us, it’s from Teryan, when “everything seems to be endless and whole your life is an infinite sweet nap…”
The word professor has been overused and it has lost its initial meaning “like empty and hollow sacks, it’s a little pity throwing them away but they hamper in case you keep them” (P. Sevak); your teachers of Armenian beginning from Mariet-Susan and ending with Hasmik-Nouneh and me once knew a real professor Armenologist Rafael Ishkhanyan. Pr. Ishkhanyan, a permanent object of admiration of mine, one of the best friends of our Educomplex, who paved the way of the New Way Party for us, and was the best pit digger for the student to lead to Teryan’s world… The professor considered being in Teryan’s world for a short schooling period of time to be the straightest way to salvation. Dear Nouneh Movsisyan, I would like us to find a way to present my and your professor by carrying out a proper project…
Before you start acting, be aware that I have reasonably passed by the pit you dug called Rouben Sevak; my sister, I promise to fall into it tomorrow. Who would I be without Teryan Vahan, would I ever be? Let the educational project “We Are Reading” with its exciting process, together with its various stations, coaches, tunnels, pits be dedicated to Pr. Rafael Ishkhanyan.
I’ll come like a forgotten song
Woven of a prayer, love and a flower:
There will be a sorrow in your dead heart,
I will call you to another land.
And I am an entire attention for the 240th time; the review “Organization of the Author educational Programs” is in process. From now on the week will be decisive for the review. The Educomplex Council will come on to the process and the results of the review; Aida Barseghyan, Laura Samvelyan and Aram Khachatryan, inspectors of the inspection department of the Ministry of ES, are joining us, Sebastatsies of all ages.
The thought that we have succeeded in creating an alternative to the state public educational program, gives me a deep satisfaction. The 25 years of the experimental research union of the Educomplex with all its mistakes, losses (like our site is possible to rehabilitate after a hacker attack) is a process of work of the innermost, pedagogical union and a process of mobile, open and creative work which is unique in the Armenian reality. Now in my 240th diary note I thank Sebastatsies of all ages for being together, wherever you are, I am grateful to you for being an integrated whole.
Sargis Markossyan, the executing engineer of our website mskh.am, who has passed his army service and who is a third year student of the Faculty of Physics at Yerevan State University, who is supporting himself and his family with his work by the sweat of his brow, was in the Media Centre. It was Sunday, Tigran Parsilyan, Susan Markossyan and I were discussing the development of the media world, its current problems. Let you know that Sargis is already my counselor officially and on a voluntary basis.
When Everything Seems To Be Boundless
The second case of death is registered in the Armenian Army during one week. In both cases the official reports received from Nagorni Karabakh don’t mention whether 20-year-old Arman Osipyan and 24-year-old senior lieutenant Tigran Simonyan died of the enemy’s bullet. According to the official statistics of Armenia and Artsakh the number of victims in the Armenian Army in the six weeks of 2015 has significantly increased as compared to the whole of 2014. Each week we have more than two tragedies. There is a lot of information in the internet now; along the 787 km length of Armenian-Azerbaijan border, which has become an Armenian-Azerbaijan confrontation line, Azerbaijan is holding impressive military exercises. We have lived and continue living as targets for the snipers that have passed a special training. I know the Armenian-Azerbaijanian borderline very well but I cannot imagine how we can protect ourselves from these snipers. This question is bothering me most of all now; my younger brothers, my Sebastatsi school leavers are the targets for snipers, and I am keeping you in a sweet nap in Bangladesh?
Davit took his bath at 9 o’clock on Sunday; before that he was sitting on the toilet seat, speaking, saying and doing crazy things. Armineh is in heaven, i.e. sleeping, Davit and me are enjoying our own felicity… The sun rising from the Nork hill is seen through the bathroom window… I am opening the window… The rays are falling on to Davit… Davit is singing… It’s a scenery.
“Sun, Sun, do rise,
Your father and mother have come,
Have brought me stool,
Raisins on it…”
Then, when the morning bath ritual is over, Davit asks, “Boys take a bath like this every day, father, don’t they?” it a sort of a liturgy, Davit is wrapped in towels, and Mother’s ceremony of dressing and hair drying starts; “When will the sock come, let him come soon (It is about the New Year sock which brings presents and make all the wishes come true)?” “What will he do, when he comes, Davit?” “Let him come and bring me cars and build them in rows every day after taking a bath… Let the people come and admire, how nicely David has built them in rows…” “How can the sock come alone from the snow world, from the land of Father Frost? Who will allow him?” “Let him come with the Father Frost, let them come together… We’ll cheer up, he will leave my sock and go to mind his own business…” “Look, how warm it is now, as warm as in spring, spring is coming, the Father Frost cannot come in spring, Davit, an odd thing you are saying.” “Let the spring grandfather come with his long socks and…” We burst out laughing; “Then may be sister summer comes…” “Aunt autumn or uncle autumn…” “So what? It will be very good. Let everybody come, father, I don’t want to stay without the sock.” “OK, we’ll talk, now you say what current programs you have, you know what day is it today, don’t you, Davit?” “It’s Sunday, father. I want to stay at home. It’s good at home. I don’t want to go anywhere.”