Anahit Arustamyan's Blog: Anahit Arustamyan's Blog, page 2
April 29, 2024
A Lamp Lights The Way Back
From my book
I sometimes think I met my grandfather, but I didn't. I could not have met him, as he had died long before I was born. I just met him in my granny's memories. I found out what it was like to live under Stalin's rule. It was a cruel period of time. Never did fears disappear from my granny's eyes. My grandparents and parents had to live with some scary thoughts of being imprisoned or exiled to Siberia. My grandfather was a medical doctor. Mostly intellectual and educated people were arrested first. My grandfather was one of them. One night he did not come back home. My granny did not sleep at night. She sent her teenage daughters to the bedroom to sleep and began packing the suitcase. First of all she packed the warm clothes, woollen socks and stockings, that she had knitted herself. My mother was her oldest daughter. She pretended as if she was sleeping, but she was thinking of the black car, taking people away from their homes. My mother was told why the people in their neighbourhood were afraid to say a word about that evil night car. She had already survived diphtheria and felt weak. My granny thought what would happen to her in a camp in cold winters of Siberia. It was not karma but a project to make innocent people suffer...
Product details
ASIN : B0D2LNXRV6
Publisher : Independently published (April 22, 2024)
Language : English
Paperback : 67 pages
ISBN-13 : 979-8323639717
Item Weight : 3.71 ounces
Dimensions : 6 x 0.16 x 9 inches
Product details
ASIN : B0D2DJ526Y
Publication date : April 26, 2024
Language : English
File size : 2047 KB
Simultaneous device usage : Unlimited
Text-to-Speech : Enabled
Screen Reader : Supported
Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
X-Ray : Not Enabled
Word Wise : Enabled
Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
Print length : 70 pages
I sometimes think I met my grandfather, but I didn't. I could not have met him, as he had died long before I was born. I just met him in my granny's memories. I found out what it was like to live under Stalin's rule. It was a cruel period of time. Never did fears disappear from my granny's eyes. My grandparents and parents had to live with some scary thoughts of being imprisoned or exiled to Siberia. My grandfather was a medical doctor. Mostly intellectual and educated people were arrested first. My grandfather was one of them. One night he did not come back home. My granny did not sleep at night. She sent her teenage daughters to the bedroom to sleep and began packing the suitcase. First of all she packed the warm clothes, woollen socks and stockings, that she had knitted herself. My mother was her oldest daughter. She pretended as if she was sleeping, but she was thinking of the black car, taking people away from their homes. My mother was told why the people in their neighbourhood were afraid to say a word about that evil night car. She had already survived diphtheria and felt weak. My granny thought what would happen to her in a camp in cold winters of Siberia. It was not karma but a project to make innocent people suffer...
Product details
ASIN : B0D2LNXRV6
Publisher : Independently published (April 22, 2024)
Language : English
Paperback : 67 pages
ISBN-13 : 979-8323639717
Item Weight : 3.71 ounces
Dimensions : 6 x 0.16 x 9 inches
Product details
ASIN : B0D2DJ526Y
Publication date : April 26, 2024
Language : English
File size : 2047 KB
Simultaneous device usage : Unlimited
Text-to-Speech : Enabled
Screen Reader : Supported
Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
X-Ray : Not Enabled
Word Wise : Enabled
Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
Print length : 70 pages
April 26, 2024
A Lamp Lights The Way Back
Description
''A Lamp Lights The Way Back'' is a memoir. However, it does not appear to be just personal as most of the memoirs do. It speaks about the whole era, which are also based on my ancestors' tales. I knitted my parents' memories with my own ones to tell the readers how my parents and grandparents lived at the time of Soviet terror, and how Armenia lost many of its precious lands with their historical and cultural heritage. I do not only speak of the events what my eyes have seen, but what my ears heard as well. My memories go back and ahead, too. They roam from past to present, speaking about life and death, wars and peace, happiness and unhappiness. My ears heard about the Second World War, but my eyes saw the war that happened on the Armenian borders and Artsakh at the time of the global pandemic of covid. I think the loss of Artsakh was another genocide that happened to my nation.
My memoir reflects a human condition, which may refer not only to me, but anyone else as well.
Due to the metaphors, allegorical expressions and poetic descriptions my memoir looks like a novel to be read with a great interest.
''A Lamp Lights The Way Back'' is a memoir. However, it does not appear to be just personal as most of the memoirs do. It speaks about the whole era, which are also based on my ancestors' tales. I knitted my parents' memories with my own ones to tell the readers how my parents and grandparents lived at the time of Soviet terror, and how Armenia lost many of its precious lands with their historical and cultural heritage. I do not only speak of the events what my eyes have seen, but what my ears heard as well. My memories go back and ahead, too. They roam from past to present, speaking about life and death, wars and peace, happiness and unhappiness. My ears heard about the Second World War, but my eyes saw the war that happened on the Armenian borders and Artsakh at the time of the global pandemic of covid. I think the loss of Artsakh was another genocide that happened to my nation.
My memoir reflects a human condition, which may refer not only to me, but anyone else as well.
Due to the metaphors, allegorical expressions and poetic descriptions my memoir looks like a novel to be read with a great interest.
February 8, 2024
The Yellow Hood
The Yellow Hood
by Anahit Arustamyan
The Yellow Hood is a story that was created by my mother. It was long ago, but I seem to be still hearing the familiar sound of her old typewriter.
Most of the stories get published and remain, but the story tellers leave forever. Through the huge waves of time they also seem to be tales that were told or written once upon a time.
''Auntie, tell me a fairytale,'' said little Nara to my mom.
''O, yes, my honey, I will tell you The Red Hood while you are in your cozy small bed, waiting for only sweet dreams in your peaceful sleep. Look, the yellow moon in its slow dance with the smiling stars in the dark night sky, but you are still awake,'' my mom said to Nara.
''Yellow moon, auntie, no, no, don't tell me The Red Hood. I have heard it many times. Don't you know another fairytale? You have just said something about the yellow moon. Tell me The Yellow Hood, please,'' Nara exclaimed.
My mother hesitated for a moment as she never heard of any fairytale that was called '' The Yellow Hood.'' She was a published children's writer with the gift to create catchy stories for children.
''Now close your eyes and listen to the story about a little girl with a yellow hood on her curly-haired head, '' my mom said to little Nara.
'' The Yellow Hood'' appeared in my mother's book for children that was entitled ''Good Night.''
Many years passed. Nara grew up and became a graphic artist. My mother died, leaving her books on the bookshelves. Nara always remembered her caring aunt, but she might have forgotten the stories that my mother told her in her childhood.
The cruel cancer caught Nara with its bloody claws in her adulthood.
I remember the painful episodes of her last days. She was glued to her bed and could hardly move.
''Sister,'' she called me in her trembling voice. She was my cousin, but we were just sisters. We grew up together and lived under the same roof.
''I can't sleep as I am in pain,'' she said almost crying. It seemed that painkilling pill was unable to relieve her pain.
''Can't you sleep, my honey sister,'' I whispered to her.
''I have just remembered my aunt's story ''Yellow Hood.'' She told me the tales when I was a little girl and refused to sleep,'' Nara said suddenly. For a moment she spoke cheerfully like a carefree child.
''I forgot the story as it was so long ago. O, wait a minute! I will get the book to read,'' I said to Nara, hoping that she was getting better.
I ran to the bookshelf and took the book off the shelf in my haste. It was published in 1972. The paper cover looked faded, but the sun was shining brightly above the emerald forest. The sun didn't hide itself in the dark night sky on the book cover. It was my mom's imagination for her book '' Good Night.''Nara kept her eyes closed while I was reading. I thought that she was still listening to her childhood's story. I was unable to understand that she was climbing to the same sky that was illustrated on the book cover of my mother's book ''Good Night.''
The Yellow Hood is a tale. What is life? The last line comes before the end of the story.
by Anahit Arustamyan
The Yellow Hood is a story that was created by my mother. It was long ago, but I seem to be still hearing the familiar sound of her old typewriter.
Most of the stories get published and remain, but the story tellers leave forever. Through the huge waves of time they also seem to be tales that were told or written once upon a time.
''Auntie, tell me a fairytale,'' said little Nara to my mom.
''O, yes, my honey, I will tell you The Red Hood while you are in your cozy small bed, waiting for only sweet dreams in your peaceful sleep. Look, the yellow moon in its slow dance with the smiling stars in the dark night sky, but you are still awake,'' my mom said to Nara.
''Yellow moon, auntie, no, no, don't tell me The Red Hood. I have heard it many times. Don't you know another fairytale? You have just said something about the yellow moon. Tell me The Yellow Hood, please,'' Nara exclaimed.
My mother hesitated for a moment as she never heard of any fairytale that was called '' The Yellow Hood.'' She was a published children's writer with the gift to create catchy stories for children.
''Now close your eyes and listen to the story about a little girl with a yellow hood on her curly-haired head, '' my mom said to little Nara.
'' The Yellow Hood'' appeared in my mother's book for children that was entitled ''Good Night.''
Many years passed. Nara grew up and became a graphic artist. My mother died, leaving her books on the bookshelves. Nara always remembered her caring aunt, but she might have forgotten the stories that my mother told her in her childhood.
The cruel cancer caught Nara with its bloody claws in her adulthood.
I remember the painful episodes of her last days. She was glued to her bed and could hardly move.
''Sister,'' she called me in her trembling voice. She was my cousin, but we were just sisters. We grew up together and lived under the same roof.
''I can't sleep as I am in pain,'' she said almost crying. It seemed that painkilling pill was unable to relieve her pain.
''Can't you sleep, my honey sister,'' I whispered to her.
''I have just remembered my aunt's story ''Yellow Hood.'' She told me the tales when I was a little girl and refused to sleep,'' Nara said suddenly. For a moment she spoke cheerfully like a carefree child.
''I forgot the story as it was so long ago. O, wait a minute! I will get the book to read,'' I said to Nara, hoping that she was getting better.
I ran to the bookshelf and took the book off the shelf in my haste. It was published in 1972. The paper cover looked faded, but the sun was shining brightly above the emerald forest. The sun didn't hide itself in the dark night sky on the book cover. It was my mom's imagination for her book '' Good Night.''Nara kept her eyes closed while I was reading. I thought that she was still listening to her childhood's story. I was unable to understand that she was climbing to the same sky that was illustrated on the book cover of my mother's book ''Good Night.''
The Yellow Hood is a tale. What is life? The last line comes before the end of the story.
December 15, 2023
Autumn Songs:For Nara
Joseph Spence Sr's reviewDec 15, 2023
it was amazing
A Great Sister's Tribute
This Kindle book is excellent. I love the flow of the words and the impact of the message. The images are great with likeness to the poetic narrative. The theme of sisterly love resonates through the text and flows with dignity and dynamic impact. I dislike nothing about these poetic verses dedicated to the author's sister, who took her heavenly journey home from earth because of cancer. I purchased this excellent book to read and understand the grief others experienced and expressed when losing family members. I will recommend this down to earth poetic narrative to others.
it was amazing
A Great Sister's Tribute
This Kindle book is excellent. I love the flow of the words and the impact of the message. The images are great with likeness to the poetic narrative. The theme of sisterly love resonates through the text and flows with dignity and dynamic impact. I dislike nothing about these poetic verses dedicated to the author's sister, who took her heavenly journey home from earth because of cancer. I purchased this excellent book to read and understand the grief others experienced and expressed when losing family members. I will recommend this down to earth poetic narrative to others.
December 13, 2023
Autumn Songs:For Nara
Free until 14 December
https://www.amazon.com/Autumn-Songs-N...
Autumn Monologue
The sky is afraid of being frozen.
The autumn sun floats in it.
The fallen leaves cover a bench.
I wonder whose bench it is.
Maybe a couple hugged on it in one spring.
The empty bench may remember them.
The autumn rain washes the footprints.
What else can it wash away?
A monologue is afraid of being stolen.
I wonder whose monologue it might be.
Is it one episode from a movie
which appears on the autumn screen?
Some leaves rustle to reply to the winds.
They haven't letf either their bushes or trees.
Do they care for the silence of the fallen leaves?
https://www.amazon.com/Autumn-Songs-N...
Autumn Monologue
The sky is afraid of being frozen.
The autumn sun floats in it.
The fallen leaves cover a bench.
I wonder whose bench it is.
Maybe a couple hugged on it in one spring.
The empty bench may remember them.
The autumn rain washes the footprints.
What else can it wash away?
A monologue is afraid of being stolen.
I wonder whose monologue it might be.
Is it one episode from a movie
which appears on the autumn screen?
Some leaves rustle to reply to the winds.
They haven't letf either their bushes or trees.
Do they care for the silence of the fallen leaves?
December 12, 2023
Autumn Songs:For Nara
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CPJM843Y/...
From my book ''Autumn Songs:For Nara
These Pages
My ages travel through my blue ink.
My heart is bound to the autumn mist.
The blue ink rushes to drip.
It bathes my friendly quill.
A life is a voyage without a ship.
The last harbour is above all the seas.
My ages travel through my blue ink.
Are these pages made of illusive silk?
From my book ''Autumn Songs:For Nara
These Pages
My ages travel through my blue ink.
My heart is bound to the autumn mist.
The blue ink rushes to drip.
It bathes my friendly quill.
A life is a voyage without a ship.
The last harbour is above all the seas.
My ages travel through my blue ink.
Are these pages made of illusive silk?
December 11, 2023
Autumn Songs:For Nara
Free until 14 December
Kindle
$0.00
Read with Kindle Unlimited to also enjoy access to over 4 million more titles
$0.00 to buy
https://www.amazon.com/Autumn-Songs-N...
Kindle
$0.00
Read with Kindle Unlimited to also enjoy access to over 4 million more titles
$0.00 to buy
https://www.amazon.com/Autumn-Songs-N...
December 9, 2023
Autumn Songs:For Nara
A poem from this book
October Melody
My fairytale is on the canvas.
I had it in my journey's days.
The iIllusions dance in October rains,
I don't know what happens.
My fairytale doesn't travel.
It's painted with autumn paint.
Maybe my eyes travel.
My eyes see the illusion's shades.
I hear the melody of October.
I have heard it for so many years.
There is something I can tell October.
What about? I don't know yet.
The days of my past no longer travel.
They may be hidden somewhere.
However, I don't know where.
What happens?
Am I a stranger in my fairytale?
October melody travels.
Maybe it knows all my steps.
October melody travels
and changes the colours and shapes.
Here is my fairytale on the canvas
but I am a stranger there.
July 28, 2023
The Pilot by Anahit Arustamyan
FROM MY NOVEL "THE PILOT"
NOW AVAILABLE AT KOBO AT A LOWER PRICE.
CHECK OUT IF YOU ARE INTERESTED.
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-...
The taxi driver offered her a very popular and unique photography exhibition. Nare was not much interested in visiting photography exhibitions as she prefered oil paintings, but she agreed. She walked into the exhibition building. There were many people who were walking up and down and looking at so many different photographs inside their beautiful frames. Nare first stopped at the photo of dolphins.
''This is such joy to look at,'' Nare said to herself.
She moved forward and her eyes caught a young lady's photo. The lady's long hair looked like a waterfall reaching her shoulders. The lady's onyx eyes were looking at Nare through the glass and the golden frame. Nare stopped opposite the photograph of a lady. Nare was motionless like a statue for a few minutes. She stepped towards the photo nearer and nearer, then she covered her face with her hands and started crying loudly without paying attention to the people in the exhibition.
''Do you know this lady?'' Nare heard a man's voice.
NOW AVAILABLE AT KOBO AT A LOWER PRICE.
CHECK OUT IF YOU ARE INTERESTED.
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-...
The taxi driver offered her a very popular and unique photography exhibition. Nare was not much interested in visiting photography exhibitions as she prefered oil paintings, but she agreed. She walked into the exhibition building. There were many people who were walking up and down and looking at so many different photographs inside their beautiful frames. Nare first stopped at the photo of dolphins.
''This is such joy to look at,'' Nare said to herself.
She moved forward and her eyes caught a young lady's photo. The lady's long hair looked like a waterfall reaching her shoulders. The lady's onyx eyes were looking at Nare through the glass and the golden frame. Nare stopped opposite the photograph of a lady. Nare was motionless like a statue for a few minutes. She stepped towards the photo nearer and nearer, then she covered her face with her hands and started crying loudly without paying attention to the people in the exhibition.
''Do you know this lady?'' Nare heard a man's voice.
July 2, 2023
Where I Meet Myself
Where I Meet Myself
Anahit's Muse
by Anahit Arustamyan
Synopsis
WHERE I MEET MYSELF is a beautiful use of words that touch the heart.
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wher...
Anahit's Muse
by Anahit Arustamyan
Synopsis
WHERE I MEET MYSELF is a beautiful use of words that touch the heart.
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wher...
Anahit Arustamyan's Blog
AWARD WINNING AUTHOR NOBLE STAR FOR LITERATURE 2020 ANAHIT ARUSTAMYAN(ARUSTAMYAN ANAHIT)
The Pilot is a spiritual romance. It was published on 15 April,2021.
It tells the tale of Nare and the people in ...more
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