It was noon. We were walking down the city streets to Nor Hajn and taking pictures. As we passed the “Street of Lovers,” Rosa said, "Look, this is our club. This is where we meet and dance and enjoy ourselves, but...”
"But what," I asked.
"It's a long, sad story..."
"Will you tell it?"
"Uh-huh...”
“…I was in the second or third grade sitting in class. Someone knocked on the door and three boys walked in. "Hello, kids. We're going to recite some names and those who are called should stand up." They began to read and in two seconds: “Chanklyan, Rosa.” I stood up. The teacher thought I'd heard wrong and told me to sit down, but the boy who was reading told me to stand up. He then added, "Kids, the ALM is giving you a chance to sing on stage, and, why not, become future singers. You must fill out this form and on Friday come to the club's classes. Those who are successful in this event, the stage will be waiting for you."
My happiness was beyond measure. Me. A singer. On a big stage. Who'd have thought? Akh…so my childhood dream was coming true! There were still a few days until Friday. Standing incessantly before the mirror with the garlic pestle in my hands I sang without break. With one song unfinished I'd move on to the next. At one point I staged a show, and I fancied myself very good. At the end I said, "thank you! I love you all! I want to thank my fans for sticking by me and always believing in me." And they applauded me. At night in my dreams I was a famous songstress completely buried under flowers...
Then Friday arrived—the greatest Friday of my life. I was wearing my shiny sequin dress. But I was late for my first class. I entered the club out of breath. The young man who had read our names stopped me and said "you came to class five minutes—are you listening? You're five minutes late and for that reason you lose all of this opportunity and cannot participate." These words, as you can tell, were a little sharp, and stung my heart. My eyes filled with tears and I ran out sobbing. My dream began to crumble, and burst...What a big stage... what roses! It all vanished and was lost. Whether or not I would've turned into a famous singer, I don't know; the only thing I know is this—that in five minutes a ten year old dream was destroyed.”
Wrote at 15 years old age
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“There are People that like Chemistry?” (Life In Nor Hadjn)
"Hello," said the classroom as the principal and I entered. "Sit down," said the principal, "my dear, you can work here; this is Rosa's class." I nodded my head and walked across the room. And I say with utmost sincerity that in my life I've never heard such an even-toned, loud, and, in my opinion, a bit frightened, hello.
They were learning chemistry. The teacher was explaining the lesson while the students were all ears, listening avidly. They were leaning towards each other whispering things into each other's ears. I started to take pictures. They were all crowded together but the teacher ordered them to sit back in their seats with her glance. Then there was Rosa. She was sitting by the window in the third row. We waved and smiled at each other.
"Who would like to come up to the board?" The teacher had hardly finished her sentence when they all started up at the same time: "Should I come...Please, let me come." People still like this subject, apparently—and it looks like this entire classroom is filled with future chemists. They were jostling one another about, one student was promising another student candy if he didn't go up to the board, so that the first student could go. If only I'd been in this class I'd never have been short on candy. No one was hiding their face. Was someone filming them? Or what? I'm picturing what would happen if someone came and photographed my classroom. The photos would show faces covered with their hands, heads resting on their desks, and you'd see very clearly how nice and clean the chalkboard was.
The bell rang. No one left their seat; whereas the majority of my classmates would already be in the cafeteria by now and the rest would already be on their cell phones talking about something or other.
"You're free, children."
Only after this did they begin to move. They approached me and began to ask me questions: where I was from, what my name was, why I was taking their pictures, and if they will be getting copies of these photos. Answering their questions I asked, "Kids, do you like chemistry?"
"Yes, very much, it's one of the best subjects."
"You're joking, right?"
"No, of course not."
They were actually serious.
Still I don't like chemistry, and that's all.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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"You know," she was saying, "we're a family of four: me, my brother, my mother and my father. It's tough when you have a big brother. He's always bossing me around and demanding I do what he thinks is right. Also, my parents trust him and agree that he's always right. Despite all this, I love my family best of all. In school I like the subjects physics, chemistry, Russian, and math. Oh, and I shouldn't forget to say that I am a star pupil. Look at me carefully now, don't I look Russian? Until I was seven years old I had very, very fair hair and skin; now they've darkened just a little, but whatever. Yeah, if I wasn't Armenian I'd've wanted to be Russian. I like the Russian language and the Russian people. When I talk with my girlfriends many of them dream of a boy that is strong, smart and a good leader. I don't dream about those things, to tell the truth, I don't picture myself with a boy, I'm more interested in just being a girl. I'm telling you about my dreams. I want to have a big and splendid car, a nice, pretty house, an interesting and—why not—profitable profession. Yes, and I very much want, like you and the rest, to attend Manana.
There's Rosa. She's happy, light and smiley, full of faith, and she thinks of her future with the right aspirations.
Wrote at 15 years old age
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