Hovik Aghazaryan, who left CP, wrote a book entitled "The Real Side of the Earth", Aghazaryan wrote about this on his Facebook page.
Excerpt from my book "True Side of the Earth".
MY FIRST SIN
The most frequently asked question I've ever been asked.
- Mr. Aghazaryan, have you not committed a sin?
- How can one live in this sinful world and not commit sin?
- Why don't you go to church to repent?
- Because I prefer to live with my sin, so that I never, at least in such situations, commit the same sin. Isn't it more correct that way than to go to church to repent and commit the same sin the next moment? What am I talking about? Yes, of sins.
But why now, I have nothing else to do? I always have something to do, it's just the dictate of the moment, an opportunity to reflect, to go back to the past.
Actually, I recently made a discovery. we all, all of us came from the past and no one, absolutely no one came from the future. What a cruel confirmation! You are in thoughts, and you fall into the arms of memories. Why are you thinking, my phone is wide open, my soul is wide open, my heart and life are laid bare in front of others.
... I studied well at school, even, one might say, excellent. I was an interesting boy... In our school, there was a boy 3-4 years younger than me, named Karik. Well, now, the real name may have been Karen, but everyone called him Karik, and I used to call him Karik too. He had mental problems, but when you talked to him and he looked straight into your eyes, it could seem that you had a problem, not him. With age, the problems deepened, and this situation caused the society to push him out of its ranks, but he did not want that and tried to stick to the society with various steps and tricks. There was an impression that he fully understood his situation, appreciated the gravity of the situation and was constantly looking for solutions. He had invented a hobby for the active hours of the village: he measured inches with everyone to find out whose inches were bigger. What does all this have to do with "sin"? Ha, ha! I remembered: it's a big connection, you have to be patient, if you're in a hurry, go about your business, you'll read it later.
Measure "inches". What was this? This was a whole world. communication with peers, an opportunity to talk about different topics, to be equal like everyone else, to feel like a human being with everyone. Perhaps this was the reason for Karik's brilliant idea of measuring "inches". I did not meet Karik in the middle of the village for a couple of days. It was Sunday, I reached the village, I saw him near the club, we started talking. Do not consider it arrogant, but it was obvious that he communicated with me in a special way, with respect. It was evident from his beautiful, large black eyes that he sincerely appreciated my personality. We exchanged a few words, then I asked:
- Dear Karik, shouldn't we measure "inches"?
"I don't measure an inch either," he replied with a feeling of deep hurt, as if I am not aware of the passing of the world. Stupidly, I mumbled a couple of words under my breath, not knowing how to get out of that depressing situation.
- Now I fly "Pilakyan", - Karik said bitterly and left upset.
On these words, let me go back to 2010 and come back.
We were in Saint Petersburg with our family. It's been ten years. Why we were in St. Petersburg is another story. That was it. One day, during dinner, I told my family members that I was going to participate in the upcoming presidential elections, naturally in Armenia. The idea was fanciful, but thoughtful. I was already 50 years old and had almost paid off my debts of many thousands, and I could afford luxury and return to Armenia. I don't think that the feeling that you want to be useful to your homeland is unique to me. Having ample opportunities to become a citizen of the Russian Federation without any hassle and financial expenses, I did not even think about it for a second. I definitely had to return to Armenia. when, I didn't know exactly, I knew that I would.
Of course, I knew that I would not be registered as a presidential candidate because I did not meet the criteria for sitting. But before registering, there was a round of nominations, one after another, which I had to use to remind the people about me with several interviews, in order to return to active political life. And now I remember that I voiced that idea in the family as seriously as Karik, looking straight into my eyes, said that he no longer measures "tiz", he already jumps "pilakyan". I also said during the dinner that I don't want to do "shpaklyovka" either, I'm going to become the president. There is a story in my life about the "Shpaklyovka" moment. On the one hand, I want to express my thoughts on that topic, on the other hand, I regret it, I am worried that I may not be understood correctly. Okay, let's let the events develop in the book, maybe I'll touch on it.
Yes, when I said "I want to become president", I should have seen the reaction of my family members at that moment.
"Where is the prosecutor?" said my wife with a special sense of humor.
"Where Napoleon was," I responded.
This dialogue is from the movie "Captive of the Caucasus", the episode where Shurik ends up in a mental hospital.
Let's go back to school years and clarify what new trick Karik thought up in order to keep himself in society. We already know how to measure "inches", let's see what "Pilakian" jumping is.
In the middle of the village, the culture house was built on a small hill and you had to climb stairs to reach the entrance. Karikyan's "sport" of "Pilakian" jumping was connected with those stairs. The flight was carried out from top to bottom or in the opposite direction. The one who overcomes more steps won. This "sport" was very popular in our village. I got into a fight with Karik, and of course, he won. After that, Karik forgave me for being ignorant of the reality of laymen and our relations remained on the same high friendly level... until next spring.
Surenavan was a village built in an almost desert place, but it was already established with its streets, gardens and its distinguishable and sympathetic inhabitants. Residents came from different parts of Armenia, as well as immigrants, for example, a large number of our nationality immigrated from Iran, there were also a large number of immigrants from Syria. And each of them completed and completed the community of the best, warmest village in the world with their unique image.
The main occupation of the village was viticulture and animal husbandry. Apart from funerals and weddings, the most important event was the day of showing Indian films. Lord God, what was happening, what was happening! Four to five days before the release date of the film, the productivity of the farmers increased tremendously, everyone was absorbed in the anticipation of watching the new Indian film, or ten times already not new (it didn't matter). On the day of the screening of the film, the director of the state farm allowed the work to be finished a little earlier, moreover, all the work was done and overdone. An hour before the start of the movie, the people started to gather. It was necessary to see how the men and women who worked for days under the sun were transformed, one by one more beautiful. The men were freed from the thrash of five to six days, perfumed, and the women were well-groomed and made all the beauties and charms their own. Naturally, there were not enough seats in the hall intended for four hundred people. Many people came with chairs, and in fact, all the people of the village over the age of 14-15 were in the hall. It happened that there was a moment or two of silence during the screening of the film, or Khachik was not doing something while changing the tape, and the screening of the film was interrupted, and people in different rows could be heard sobbing. And nobody, nobody wanted the movie to end... but it was ending, the lights were on and everyone could see that everyone was in tears. You will not witness anything equivalent now. Anyway...
Winter was ending and spring was coming. I loved that moment of the weather relay very much. The cold days of winter were gradually replaced by intermittently warm and then completely warm days. Puddles everywhere, mud, remnants of snow in shady parts. It happened that we went to work in the vineyards and it was felt how the breath of the soil was opening and the vines were getting ready to sprout from the heat of that breath. And the awakening of nature was obvious, as if the beginning of a new life, the beginning of a warm and warm life.
March 8, one of the first days of spring, was no less important in its meaning than the days of showing Indian films. The whole village was in an uproar: gifts, surprises, preparations for parties and cards... well... at that time, everyone was congratulating their loved ones, relatives, friends, girlfriends with cards on the occasion of various holidays. Not with lifeless, cold sms like Himikwa (oh, damn you sms inventor). Well, March 8 was approaching and everyone was taking their postcards to the village's only mailbox. It was March 6. In the afternoon, avoiding as much as possible the puddles of different sizes caused by snowmelt and the muddy parts of the street, I went to the village center with the postcards in hand, where the only mailbox was installed. From a distance of fifty meters, I noticed that Karik was also moving towards the mailbox. "What's this doing here? It's approaching the mailbox, isn't it?" Who should be congratulated on March 8?" A person in whom the problems described above were aggravated (he had no mother, sister, brother). With that in mind, I reached the mailbox a little early, threw the good luck sms, eh! I dropped my leg to see what Karik will do. He took out a postcard from the pocket of his old coat so that I wouldn't have a chance to see the note and tried to drop it into the mailbox. Take your luck. Even if the world falls apart, I have to see who you are congratulating. It's all the same, no one is around and they can't rebuke me. What about my conscience? How should I face myself? Should I not give in to temptation, should I not enter someone else's inner world? К черту everything. Adam and Eve were told not to eat the apple, but where did they eat it? They did well and ate. Can you imagine how colorless the world would be now if they had not eaten that sweet apple? Let me return to myself, return to my vile intention, return to my vile step. Lord God, how long the moment lasts! Well, hurry up, slaughter it...at the age of sixteen it was my meanest move. Now I can say it for my whole life.
Like a predator, I snatched the card from Karik's hand, turned it over and read it. That animal, what did you read, what was written that you read even one word? Oh dear mom... There was nothing written on the card. Karik simply projected his theory of "inch measurement" onto this situation. On the occasion of the holiday of March 8, with an unaddressed sms, er!, with a card (oh, damn you sms inventor), he came to the mailbox so that the few passers-by would notice that he also had someone who could to congratulate on the occasion of the holiday. Hovik was by his side, so they would tell each other and the whole village would know that Karik does not have mental problems. Of course, he did not have such an idea, even in the most brilliant head.
I was stunned, but I understood the terrible degree of my sin. With muddy spring shoes (no matter how much I bypassed puddles and muddy areas), I entered someone else's soul, someone else's inner world, a very personal domain, I shattered a world... I, nothing, destroyed a world. I could not understand Karik's words and curses, terrible curses. I don't know how, at the last moment I lost my mind and I threw that unaddressed card into the mailbox. Perhaps Karik appreciated my move. Lord God, that young man with severe mental problems appreciated my step. He stopped cursing, and with one last look at me, as if making it clear that the undelivered address of the card will remain between him and me, he left. I also left the most cursed place for me at that moment.
Karik has been gone for a long time... now you can...
"Are you not committing a sin, Mr. Aghazaryan?" the journalists ask.
- How can one not sin in this sinful world? - I answer.
- Why don't you go to the church to repent, Mr. Aghazaryan, the journalists continue.
- Because I prefer to live with my sin, so that at least I don't commit such a sin in such situations, - I answer.
