She stepped into immortality

She stepped into immortality

Marem Yalkharoev

On February 23, 2009, the Bath of Gaitukaeva would have turned 50 on her country in a sky of Chechen poetry flared up and disappeared, illuminating one of the most beautiful corners of the earth, a bright star with a rare name - a ban. “Whoever wants to understand the poet should go to his country,” said Goethe's great German poet. And what is she - the country of Bana Gaitukaeva?
... and the soul is bright
And the heart of heat,
And with your hand is pure ...

Ban’s poetry, like any talented poet, is a mirror of the life of her land and her time. True mirror: reality is reflected in it clearly and reliably. But that's not all. Ban verses are invariably individual, inimitably distinctive. This is the power of talent granted to the Almighty.

Her word
In addition to beauty, spirituality in it is a lot of courage. Yes, this poetry is not in a womanly courageous. Where else could such a word be born, if not in such a long -suffering and proud region?

Man - Chureka Product
And Virgo in bright clouding,
The insignificance of your souls blame.
Do not touch Chechnya!

The word Bana Gaitukaeva aptly and sometimes even too bold for a chechenka girl. She dared to talk about what men were afraid to think about.

On the day the mother leaves the child,
At night, when we do not need cleanliness,
On the day of the renunciation and on the night of the sentence,
What are you crying, mournful
Time of shame?
On the day when the spirit leaves the heroes,
The shadow of their worried sometimes,
Honor deprived and even vanity,
What are you crying, hiding your face.
Time of powerlessness?
On the day when souls strive for peaks,
Conscience and honor are sold on arshins,
On the day when the sacred towers fell,
The ancient mountains bowed in sorrow,
Why are you fighting in a silent sob,
Stretching my palms to my windows,
Time of repentance and repentance?

This ability, without taking a look, look the truth in the eye - a feature inherent only to true talent. Thanks to this, the works of banks are not only expressive, but also imbued with a deep, unusable thought. Her word can revive ordinary, for she knows how to discern in everyday life her spiritual meaning, moral value.

Leave the moonlight to that
Who himself is related to the moon,
How surprisingly easy
Everyone has become holy today!
Leave my heart
the country of tall, slender towers,
To feed your hands
I could have eagked hungry.
Leave it, although for a moment,
All minor affairs and thoughts
When the poet is mourning about you,
It stands at your threshold.
Clean your hearts
tears from the soul washed
Do not let the dust fall into the dust,
Fasten the palms carefully.

And how much touching lyricism is in her word ...
I grew up in the field, I am a wild flower ...
***
You will not forget the flour for a long time?
Only death will cool in the heart of blood?
And is not terrible for you?
Do not cry. You will forget love.

The poetic word of Ban Gaitukaeva was suffered, missed through the heart, inseparably from her grieving soul. Therefore, it excites the minds and hearts of people, takes it to the very depths, convinces. This is the high and eternal meaning of poetry.

I wish to die for you ...
In one of her best works "Hear me, brother!" (1992) with particular force, the spiritual experiences of the poetess, which did not accept the inhumanity of the world, were expressed. Naturally and at the same time, in an original way, she beats in verses a theme sacred to her people: the purity and tenderness of the bonds connecting her brother and sister. This cry of a wounded soul that cannot and does not want to come to terms with cruelty, with evil, cannot but touch the hearts of even the most indifferent and well -fed. Once Mikhail Lermontov, a participant in a meaningless massacre near the Chechen village Valerik, bitterly perplexed:

... a miserable person. What does he want? The sky is clear
There is a lot of places under the sky for everyone,
But constantly and in vain
He is enjoying one - why?

This question remains unanswered for centuries. How many lives are carried away, how many unopened talents destroy wars! I get the random bullet of Lieutenant Lermontov in the great -grandfather of the Chechen poetess Bana Gaitukaeva from the village of Valerik, and would not recognize the world of a rare poetess, just like him, not accepting the murder, which preserved huge sacrificial love in the heart:

And I wish to die for you
My dear, wonderful people, -

Ban wrote in her young years.

People paid her the same love. Typically, for children, even the death of loved ones is the concept of abstract. But when the ban was in the hospital, the seven -year -old Nikita Tretyakov, having learned from the conversation of adults that she ran to the icon to pray for her. With his little heart, warming warmth emanating from the ban, the child felt who the earth was losing!

"Chechnya, do you understand what misfortune
Did you comprehend you? Or are you used to misfortunes? " -

Musa Akhmadov will write immediately after her death.
No, it is impossible to get used to such losses!

"Great Allah! Do not let me become a witness to the suffering of my Chechnya!"
These words were the daily prayer of ban. Well, thanks to the Almighty: he heeded to prayers, took her literally on the eve of the tragedy that he had to burst over his homeland, so hotly beloved.
A person himself determines the price of himself, and not only to himself, but also to his home, his family, the village, to his people. The Chechen poetess Ban Gaitukaeva outlined the highest price. And having paid for her whole short inspired life, she earned immortality. A ban, who loved his edge to the heart, will live in human souls while Chechnya is alive.

G1elelli Hyo? K1adelli Hyo?
Hyane Corta San Kera Billiy,
Tskhammaa Sad1aaha, Tskhamma Dog Dastakh ...
Samajrsha, dog dovha, kugz1en, nokhchycho! ..

Are you tired? Tired?
Put your head on my knees
And rest a little.
Tell me about your sorrow,
Freedom -loving, cordial,
My honest Chechnya! ..

The heart of the poetess was hot and generous, open to fellow countrymen, it did not remain deaf to any human pain. As a tragedy of her home, she perceived the grief of the fraternal Ingush people. When the wounded in the Ossetian-Ingush conflict was delivered to Grozny, the ban visited all the hospitals of the city; I brought money sent by the Vainakh diaspora from Tver to refugees. And on March 17, 1993, a year before her death (on March 18, 1994, she died) prepared a radio marathon deported from the suburban district of Ingush with a CHGU. On the second day, in serious condition, the ban was taken to the hospital, lay there for two months. Then I found out what was doomed. Leukemia. Ban’s life was a feat. Now that it is no longer there, many have realized it. The last year she lived, knowing that the death was at the threshold, but no one even from close to the last realized this. She died as courageously as she lived.
She was released a short period of time, only 35 years, but she managed to comprehend the true meaning of being as deeply as a few. Bana stepped into immortality, leaving a bright mark on Earth and in literature.