A fate intertwined by AlES: the story of Arten and Dilara

Autumn of 2012 in Almaty turned out to be windy and golden-toned. As the leaves swirled outside the office windows, Arten Shabakov, who was still a young repair engineer at the Fuel Receiving and Unloading Centre, had no idea that this season would be the beginning of eternity for him, ‘everything was changed by chance – or rather, by a silver frame…’ on the desk of Ainur Nurgaliyeva, the secretary of the Managing Director.

– Who is she? – he asked, struggling to hide the tremor in his voice. The photo revealed a laughing girl who had stars of the steppes twinkling in her eyes.

– My sister, Dilara. Would you like to meet her? – Ainur squinted her eyes, studying his reaction.

Arten was willing, so much that he had spent a month persuading Ainur to become his ally. He’d come to her with ridiculous arguments, ‘We both love kurt!’ – “That’s not an argument,’ she parried. ‘I’ll learn to dance the Kazakh waltz for her!’ – “First you need to prove that you’re not a flirty djigit.” Eventually Ainur finally gave in, whispering: “If you offend her, my revenge will be as cold as the winter chill of Saryarka”.

He wrote his first message to Dilyara like a poet, rewriting and editing. And when she replied, time stood still. They spoke via M-agent, an old messenger that never worked properly, but for them it became a bridge between the worlds.

The first time they met looked like a scene from a legend. Arten arrived early, nervously readjusting his tie. And there she was, in her dress of early spring color, with a smile that made all worries fade away. He could see in her eyes what the old legend about Koza Koppesh and Bayan Sulu says: ‘Fate does not ask – it guides’.

Their dates merged into one: movies, where he forgot the plots, night walks in Almaty, talking about their dreams. Dilyara told how as a child she learnt to embroider ornek, and he listened as fascinated.

But fate, as a true prankster, prepared a surprise. Six months later, Arten’s friend Azamat Chakarov from the Department of Industrial Safety and Labor Protection decided to introduce him to the ‘ideal bride’. The office of the head of the Economic Department turned out to be empty. “She was just here a moment ago!” – bewildered Azamat. When they returned, Arten froze: there she was sitting at the desk.

– Dilara?! – Their voices merged in unison.

– Do you… know each other? – Azamat looked at them like a mirage in the steppe.

– This is my girlfriend,’ Arten laughed, and Dilara lowered her eyes, hiding her blush.

Three years flew by like a single day. The wedding took place in July, to the accompaniment of laughter of friends from the youth organization ‘Zharkyn Bolashak’ of AlES JSC. Arten sang a well-known ‘Seni suyemin’ for her, having rehearsed secretly, and Dilara was crying, clutching a bouquet of snow-white tulips to her chest.

Now their house is filled with laughter: Jasmine, who has inherited her mother’s almond eyes, and Bisultan, whose naughtiness remind her father of himself as a child. And also – five couples from the ‘youth’, who, looking at them, have found their love. Even the strict Ainur, once Dilyara’s ‘guardian’, now laughs when she takes Nurzhan’s surname: ‘Your love is like a virus of happiness!’

– You know,” Arten says in the evenings, watching Dilara teach her daughter to dance, ’our story is like a sequel to a legend. Only instead of steppes – there is ALES, instead of dombra – M-agent, and instead of Bayan – there’s you.

Dilyara smiles, correcting saukele on Jasmine’s head: ‘You forgot the main thing: Kozy Koppesh and Bayan Sulu overcame distances, but we have overcome our doubts. And we have won.

On the Day of Kozy Korpesh and Bayan Sulu, their story reminds us that love does not seek an easy way. It comes through accidents, tests the intentions and, if you believe, weaves two destinies into one pattern – stronger than chimneys of CHPP and brighter than the lights of Almaty.

And yet it all began with a photograph on the desk…