I had the good fortune to study in the class of U. Hajibeyov during the war years. He had his own special method of teaching: he taught us – students of the music school and conservatory – to listen and feel life. Every day he gave us a kind of exam. What did we learn from the Soviet Information Bureau reports? What did we read in the newspapers? We interrupted each other, rushing to share what we heard and read.

“Now, write a march of soldiers advancing on the enemy”, Uzeyir bey suggested. We enthusiastically began to compose marches, using all the knowledge gained in classes on specialty, harmony, and polyphony. Then we discussed these works in detail in class. Our teacher, with his inherent calmness, conducted the discussion so delicately that no one took offense, even if shortcomings were mentioned.

I would like to highlight another very valuable characteristic of U. Hajibeyov. He not only followed our creative development, but also cared about our lives and health. Entering the classroom, he carefully scrutinized everyone (after all, it was wartime!), and if he noticed the slightest indisposition, he would inevitably ask: “Listen, there’s something not quite right about you today, come see me after the lesson.”

Our teacher, our friend, a remarkable person has long since left us. But the memory of him forever lives on in our hearts.