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Aram Papayan

Writer, journalist, editor


The story that changed Armenian playwrighting history 

"The Dead Don't Age"
A tribute article from
Paruyr Sevak

"Beautiful, tall, broad, with honest features. My generation first saw him in military uniform, which flattered very few people due to their bodily imperfections. 


It seemed to me that he was just born like that, in uniform. But those close to him knew he was more beautiful on the inside, and that he was infinitely far from wearing a uniform and doing military work. 


He was born an artist, and he himself was a beautiful work of art. Due to the Great Patriotic War, this young, patriotic artist, exchanged his service of art for military service. And he would do that service with the dedication, mental sophistication and kindness of an artist. 


The impression of his sophistication and kindness has been imprinted on many of our lives. But 25 years ago, the most insensitive and brutal thing happened. Victim of a blind car and incoherent accident, Aram Papayan, who did not die in the war, died when going to greet the returning glorious Tamanyan Division of Armenia. That was in the August of 1945, four months after the war ended.

"15 Years Later"
A tribute article from Hrachya Hovhannisyan

"On a bright day, in the August of 1945, the entire Armenian nation was happily greeting the returning soldiers and generals of the glorious Tamanyan Division. Everyone's heart was flooded with the unusual light of the days sun, the enthusiasm of the meeting and a delightful song- everyones heart. Even those who had lost relatives in the massive flames of destruction, for a moment, left their grief behind; with eyes full of tears, shared their collective joy. But apparently it's true that...

"In the spring of joy there's a sprinkling of grief..."

The co-author of this play (The Great Wedding), Aram Papayan, who was working in the Communist newspaper with a group of officers of the Tamanyan Division, very happy, jokes upon his lips, laughter in his eyes; while returning from Etchmiadzin to Yerevan, became the victim of an absurd disaster, a blind car accident. Aram, one of our lovely, honest friends, died. It was heavy to hear about and was hard to believe.


Many, many remember him. He was only 28-years-old; energetic, handsome, polite, a quality friend, happy.

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