The world’s hottest, the quietest, the safest, the most fertile, the most patient, the most misunderstood, the most wonderful water. The most cursed water, whose shores are visited by almost half of the people left in the country every weekend during this season. They step on the ground getting out of the car and begin cursing the wind, cold water, fantastic sun, the stones on the shore, and with curses in the mouth, they start preparing to eat. Later, when eating a piece of bread they curse again concluding that this is not a place to come, and then, after the piece of bread and destroyed they get into the water and right in the water they begin cursing the water. Well, do you know Sevan that you curse? You would not even find this miracle on the map if it were not painted in blue. Sevan is not a peninsula, which you call an island, nor the “Flamingo”.
Sevan is not a Tsovagyugh villager standing at the roadside blue “domik” and showing a grampus size fish with his hands and with wild persistence argued that his criminal fish poaching is “health to the sea.” Sevan is not the five thousand drams and dystrophic build-up viewer of toiletless shore that the community sewage is dumped into the lake without being filtered, and he is genuinely surprised that, “Hey guys, how these stupid Yerevan people get into this dirty water.” The Sevan you know has two directions: one from “Gavar side” and the other from “highway side.” You were not even told that the beach recreation in your known main part is just prohibited, that it is not only unpleasant, but also very often deadly dangerous.
Yes, Sevan has also a fantastic beach protected by the mountain chains of Areguni and Sevan, no wind, hot water and white sand, with Divine peace, but it is just far away from the highway. But, you call Shorzha the entire territory from Motel to Shorzha. You are even lazy to reach Shorzha, not to speak about knowing that beyond it there is Artanish, Gil, Tsapatagh, Pambak, Daranik, Areguni … You look like a non-existing family whose members prefer eating the liver and intestines of Fugue fish. You do not know that you cannot undress your body that has not seen the sun throughout the year and wonder for hours under the thin rays of mountainous sun and argue that it is the best way to avoid getting ill in winter season. You do not know that you cannot get on the Soviet Union worn out hydrocycle loaded with ten more people and make wild howls, not to speak about knowing what a divine pleasure it is to listening to matchless silence of the Sevan Lake.
You do not know that littering the water with plastic bottles and bags looks like forcing you to drink gasoline. Sevan is not a place for us to “cheat on” with a libertine. It is not a place for you to eat one-week food ration violently in a few hours, it is not a place to drive your car crazily and turn on the silliest available music disc to the maximum. It is not a place to enter the peninsula church with a wet bathing suit, proudly waving the pithecanthropus curls and controverting Rev. Minas with a hiccup who rebukes you. Well, what are you doing in Sevan? You do not know so much about Sevan that the rest of your days will not be enough to know and learn. At least learn not to blaspheme Sevan being in Sevan. One day, its patience will be run out, and will swallow all you cursing it and your wives swimming in robes, bra and rags, will appropriately explain everything to you and in response to your curse, it will spit you out to the shore.
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AGHASY HUNANYAN
