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Mount
Ararat and the Flute Player of Yerevan
Milia Ali
Two
vivid images float in my memory when I reflect on my days
in Yerevan, Armenia. The majestic Mount Ararat, cradling
in its craters the country's checkered history, and the
lone flute player in the Republic Square attempting to recapture
through his music the lost Soviet era. The reader might
rightly question the association between the biblical mountain
of Prophet Noah and an anonymous flutist in the streets
of Yerevan! But strange are the ways in which our grey cells
draw parallels -- the sight of the Ararat peak and the sound
of a flute symphony are embedded in my mind in close proximity
creating in their interwined chemistry a wistful longing
for a rocky, sparsely populated country with its severe
winters, languid summers and its warm and hospitable people.
Before
I went to live there with my husband in 2001, Armenia for
me was a remote reality, merely another country which was
a part of the former Soviet Union and became independent
after its collapse in 1991. A chance encounter with a seventy-year
old painter kindled my interest in the Armenian people.
The first time I met her in her studio, Armine Galentz surprised
me by quoting Tagore's “Caged Bird and Free Bird”(in Armenian).
She told me that the poem was her constant companion because
it was a true representation of her life: “I was a caged
bird in the Soviet Union but now that I am free, my wings
have forgotten how to fly.” Needless to say, she touched
my heart at its most tender and sensitive spot--my devotion
and dedication to Tagore's philosophy and poetry. I learned
from Armine that the Soviets taught Tagore in their schools.
As a matter of fact, Armenia is the first country I visited
outside Bangladesh and India where Rabindranath Tagore is
almost a household name!
As the
days passed, Armine and I became friends. I would sit with
her for hours singing Tagore's compositions while she painted
my portrait. Through her conversation I began to feel the
pain of a fallen nation with a rich heritage combined with
seventy years of socialist indoctrination. Thus began my
journey into the real Armenia and the simultaneous expansion
of my consciousness. Although I only touched the periphery
of my destination, in many ways it changed my perspective
of life and made me more appreciative of diversity, not
only at the individual level, but also of peoples and nations.
Armenia,
a nation which claims that it was the first to accept Christianity
as a state religion about two thousand years ago, has survived
several calamities. Situated at a critical point in the
silk route, the country was historically a trading centre
for merchants and in many ways formed a bridge between Europe
and Asia. The Arab invasions and attacks by the Turks, resulting
in a genocide and mass exodus in the early part of the twentieth
century, left Armenia scarred and vulnerable. As a matter
of fact, its people still demand an apology from the Turks.
Being a citizen of a country which has been the victim of
genocide, I could empathise and relate to this trauma and
in many ways admired the resilience of a nation that did
not allow seventy years of rigid Soviet rule to obliterate
its history and heritage!
According
to the Armenians, the constant invasions by its hostile
neighbours prompted their leaders to opt for the USSR in
1918. Having made a voluntary union with the Soviets, Armenia
enjoyed some rare privileges, for example, a certain degree
of religious, linguistic and cultural freedom. Although
one could not climb to the top echelons of the Central Soviet
Committee unless he or she was a self-proclaimed atheist,
many Armenians, even in the Stalin era, maintained some
form of religious practice at an individual level. It is,
therefore, not surprising that religion plays an important
role in the socio-political and cultural scene of post-independent
Armenia. The Armenian Orthodox Church has its own Pope (the
Catholicos) who wields considerable moral and political
authority over his people. It is also interesting that an
increasing number of men and women have reverted to religion
to connect to their Christian roots. For Diaspora Armenians
(about six million who live in the US, Europe, Middle East
and other ex-Soviet countries), the church is the social
and cultural centre that keeps them united and linked to
their motherland.
Mt.
Ararat, originally a part of Western Armenia, now lies in
Turkish territory. Whatever its geographical boundaries
may be, the mountain's spectacular beauty can be experienced
from every corner of the capital, Yerevan. The play of sun
and shade on its snow clad peak provides a welcome respite
from the otherwise monochromatic architecture and character
of the city, with its matchbox like soviet-style apartments
and ornate, red-bricked structures which house the governmental
offices and Ministries. A casual walk through the city gives
one a sense of depression and pessimism transmitted through
the unsmiling and somewhat dejected faces of its citizens.
A deeper insight into the country's situation explains why
-- when internal markets collapsed and funds from the central
Soviet budget were no longer available, the country, like
many other former Soviet countries, plunged into economic
gloom. In Armenia's case this phenomena has been more pronounced
since it has no natural resource base and its main asset
is its pool of well-educated population with high expectations
but skills which are not altogether relevant in today's
open market competition. It is thus difficult for the Armenians
to accept the fact that they are no longer a super power,
neither do they have free access to housing, water, electricity,
health care, education and, above all, a secure job and
pension any more.
As I
started to make friends with many nationals, I began to
observe a very interesting characteristic--the inability
to think out of the box or operate on two or more parallel
planes. This results in an inherent refusal to accept and
adapt to change. Candid discussions revealed that this was
partially due to the Soviet education which did not encourage
freethinking and entrepreneurship. It is, therefore, interesting
that an ordinary cab driver can recognise the notes of Beethoven's
seventh symphony without much effort, yet he gets lost when
forced to take a detour to a well-known destination! The
content-based education that he received prepared him to
fill a specific employment gap but did not teach him to
apply his academic knowledge to a different work situation
or even transfer his skills from one job to another. There
are only a few who are willing to try out new ventures and
professions. In many cases this turns out to be quite a
traumatic experience. Thus, most continue to dwell in their
past and are confused about how to use their redundant skills
in post-Soviet Armenia. Like the flute player in the Republic
Square, who lost his job when the concerts and operas were
no longer state-sponsored. He continues to suffer the indignity
of unemployment but is not motivated to walk across the
street to the Marriott Hotel and ask if there is a need
for a musician to entertain guests in the lobby! I never
understood why--was it the fear of being refused or just
that he lacked the capacity to market his skills in a competitive
world? So, he sits in a deserted street corner and makes
beautiful music with so much passion, technical perfection
and enthusiasm, as if he is performing to a packed audience
in the Bolshoi theatre!
I would
not be accurate if I create the impression that the Armenians
lack initiative -- their Diaspora are among the best entrepreneurs
in the world and many young people who live in the country
have also learnt to be proactive, in some cases resulting
in blatant aggressiveness. In truth, present Armenia is
the site of two opposing forces -- the older generation,
steeped in socialistic ideology, clinging to the remnants
of Soviet ideas and beliefs and the youth, impatient to
make the quantum leap into the MTV screen and hence to Coca
Cola land! This may be an over generalisation of the complex
psyche of a proud nation, but it becomes apparent when one
observes the middle aged men and women sitting in parks
in their dark, dreary clothing designed to suppress diversity
and imagination, and, in contrast, the young women walking
down the rugged pavements of Yerevan in stiletto heels,
mini skirts and tank tops as if they just stepped out of
a James Bond movie! Candid discussion with the new generation
Armenians explains this phenomena. During the first years
of independence there was an upsurge of anger against all
socialistic values and customs which discouraged independent
thinking and behaviour. As a result, the tide turned in
the opposite direction and this manifested itself through
the younger generation asserting their independence in the
only way they could--by rebelling against any form of dress
code, etiquette and culture which even remotely reminded
them of the pre-independence period. It is, however, unfortunate
that in the absence of proper guidelines for a “new Armenian”
cultural and ethical code, the youth adopted the only option
available to them -- emulating the Hollywood or TV soap
opera style of behaviour, fashion and mannerisms! It may
require another mini revolution and years of exposure to
the outside world to break this syndrome.
My story
of Armenia will not be complete without the human perspective.
No story ever is ! Of the many relationships that made a
difference in some way, I would like to mention my brief
friendship with the dancer, Sofi Devoyan, who proposed that
she compose a ballet based on Rabindrasangeet which we would
perform together. My one regret is that the project was
conceptualised toward the end of my stay and was lost in
the pile of other professional and social priorities. As
I mentioned at the outset, Tagore was widely read and respected
in the USSR. Since people were not familiar with his songs,
my few musical performances generated a good deal of interest
and curiosity, especially among the artists. It is interesting
that, contrary to views propagated by some groups of Bangali
intellectuals, Rabindranath Tagore was not regarded as an
elitist writer by the guardians of Soviet culture!
The
other remarkable discovery I made through my interactions
on a personal level is that there is a tremendous amount
of inquisitiveness and admiration for South Asian culture
and traditions all over the former USSR, mainly because
the Soviets had close ties with India. As a matter of fact,
Indian cinema offered the only glimpse to the outside world
during the rigid Soviet period when every piece of art and
music was monitored and approved by Moscow before it was
made available for public viewing and enjoyment. Thus, many
remember Nargis and Raj Kapoor films with a sense of romantic
nostalgia. Whenever I walked into my favourite restaurant,
the violinist moved from the intricate notes of Mozart to
“Awara hoon” and “Mera joota hae Japani” as a tribute to
the lady from “India”. I was often stopped by men and women
in the streets with a “namaste” and questions about the
saree -- how to wear it, does it come off easily, how many
metres etc.
Finally,
all those who touched me in many visible and invisible ways.
The numerous friends and acquaintances who invited me to
their homes. Whether it was a modest two-roomed apartment
or a luxurious chalet in the mountains, the spread was always
lavish and the warmth and toasts even more exuberant. And,
of course, the street children of Yerevan! How can I forget
them? At the request of the NGO that cared for these children,
I organised a charity concert for their benefit. The most
enjoyable part of the task was that I taught them to sing
Tagore's song: “Ami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini…”(I
know you. Oh! Foreigner--you live across the seas…. I have
felt your presence in the depths of my heart.) which they
performed on stage. After this event, whenever I walked
through the main streets of Yerevan I would have a little
boy or girl following me singing “Ami chini …” How apt!
Just as I carry a little bit of Armenia with me wherever
I go, I have also left a part of me there -- the part which
will be recognised as the Chena bideshini (The known foreigner)!
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