Essay from Aliya Abdurasulova

Aliya Abdurasulova, a Namangan State university student

 

WORKING WITH ONE-DIMENSIONAL AND MULTI-DIMENSIONAL ARRAYS IN C++ PROGRAMMING LANGUAGE

Annotation

This article provides information on processes for working with one- and multi-dimensional arrays in the C++ programming language. The types of arrays, the methods of their use, and their application in the program code are explained with examples. Problems encountered when working with arrays and their solutions are also considered. Information is also provided on how arrays are stored in memory and many ways to make the most of them. The article provides a deeper understanding for beginners and programmers.

Keywords

C++ programming language, arrays, one-dimensional array, multidimensional array, programming fundamentals, data structure, array in C++, indexes, working with arrays, program structuring, data storage, code writing (structuring)

Introduction

In programming, efficient storage and access to data is of great importance. In C++ programming language, arrays are used to store data of the same type in an ordered manner. Unlike simple variables, arrays allow multiple values to be grouped under a single name, which simplifies the code and improves efficiency. Arrays are divided into one-dimensional and multi-dimensional types. A one-dimensional array represents a simple list, while multi-dimensional arrays are structured as tables or matrices. This article explains creating arrays in C++, using them, and practical examples.

1. One-Dimensional Arrays

One-dimensional arrays are ordered collections of elements. They are declared using the following syntax:

data_type array_name[size];

Where:

• data_type – the type of array elements (e.g., int, double, char, etc.)

• array_name – the name of the array

• size – the number of elements in the array

1.1 Declaring and Using a One-Dimensional Array

For example, let’s create an array containing 5 numbers and display them on the screen:

#include <iostream>
using namespace std;
int main() {
    int numbers[5] = {10, 20, 30, 40, 50}; // Array declared and initialized
    cout << “Array elements: “;
    for (int i = 0; i < 5; i++) {
        cout << numbers[i] << ” “;
    }
    return 0;
}

1.2 Array Input from User

If array elements need to be entered by the user during program execution, the following method can be used:

#include <iostream>
using namespace std;
int main() {
    int numbers[5];
    cout << “Enter 5 numbers: “;
    for (int i = 0; i < 5; i++) {
        cin >> numbers[i];
    }
    cout << “The numbers you entered: “;
    for (int i = 0; i < 5; i++) {
        cout << numbers[i] << ” “;
    }
    return 0;
}

2. Multi-Dimensional Arrays

Multi-dimensional arrays allow access to elements through multiple indices. The most commonly used type is the two-dimensional array, which is often applied in representing tables or matrices.

2.1 Declaring a Two-Dimensional Array

The syntax for declaring a two-dimensional array is:

data_type array_name[rows][columns];

Where:

• rows – number of rows

• columns – number of columns

2.2 Example of a 2×3 Array

For example, let’s create an array with 2 rows and 3 columns and display it on the screen:

#include <iostream>
using namespace std;
int main() {
    int matrix[2][3] = {{1, 2, 3}, {4, 5, 6}};
    cout << “Array elements: \n”;
    for (int i = 0; i < 2; i++) {
        for (int j = 0; j < 3; j++) {
            cout << matrix[i][j] << ” “;
        }
        cout << endl;
    }
    return 0;
}

2.3 User Input for Array Size and Elements

The following program asks the user for the size of the array and its elements, then displays them:

#include <iostream>
using namespace std;
int main() {
    int n;
    cout << “Enter the number of array elements: “;
    cin >> n;
    int arr[n];
    for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) {
        cout << “Enter element ” << i+1 << “: “;
        cin >> arr[i];
    }
    cout << “Array elements: “;
    for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) {
        cout << arr[i] << ” “;
    }
    return 0;
}

Advantages of Working with Arrays

• Organized data storage – Arrays allow storing elements of the same type in order.

• Fast access – With indexing, any element can be accessed directly.

• Convenient processing – Arrays allow automating various calculations in programming.

Conclusion

This article comprehensively covered the stages of working with one- and multi-dimensional arrays in the C++ programming language. The types of arrays, their effective organization, and their proper use in program code were explained with practical examples. Problems encountered in working with arrays and their optimal solutions were discussed. Arrays are one of the most important tools for storing and processing data, and their effective use simplifies the programming process. Correct use of arrays in future software projects contributes to faster code execution and optimized memory usage.

References

1. Bjarne Stroustrup. “The C++ Programming Language” (4th Edition). Addison-Wesley, 2013.

2. Sh.F. Madraximov, A.M. Ikramov, M.R. Babajanov, “C++ tilida programmalash bo‘yicha masalalar to‘plami”, Tashkent – 2014.

3. B.B. Mo‘minov, “Informatika”, Tashkent “Tafakkur – bo‘stoni”, 2014.

Poetry from Abdel Latif Mubarak

Older Middle Eastern man with white hair and a black coat over a light blue top, seated in a library on a brown couch by a lamp.

The Metamorphosis of Dreams

I gather the faces of people,
in the treasure of folly,
engraving upon my poor dress
a song, a silent prayer.
I add colors to creation,
to weave a metamorphosis,
one after another,
echoing the depths of happiness.
I am your dream,
O people of reason,
a condition veiled in wonder,
eyes gazing towards tomorrow.
The streets are empty,
hearts outstretched,
trodden by the weight
of silent doubt.
I adapt to grandeur,
inhabiting an incapacity,
visible to all,
my nakedness, my fragility.
My feet are nailed
to the pavement’s face,
showcases of sorrow,
where hope feels faint.
Sometimes it sighs,
and sometimes it softens,
your dream, O people of words,
is sweeter, but often forgotten.
For I am the one who wanders,
or do people wander with me?
A dervish in a circle,
lost in a memory.
I emerge, my soul pours forth,
between its lines, the strings
of longing for the sanctuary’s robe,
and the blessings that true love brings.
They slept upon the shoulders of time,
testimony of interwoven moments,
signs of exchange,
a miracle yet to be found.
***

A Martyr
Sign me up, right here,
To a womb that defies history’s commute.
Inscribe my name.
Never did I nurse from the breasts of women in a slave market.
I could not trust mystics,
Nor did their bells ring recognition in my heart.
A million fears
My fears, multiplied a millionfold,
When I find death staring into my life,
When I see coffins stacked,
Black as the tears of rain.
May God grant you a long life,
To console homes filled with sorrow—
The bodies of the martyrs,
Whose lives gifted you freedom.
Beside the widows and orphans,
Gallows craft your dreams,
Selling your heart on the very first road.
Be a martyr.
***
A frame to image painful
Sorrows planted deep inside hearts,
Awakening seeds of fear,
With horror facts concealed and capped.
Dressed in the wear of silence,
The sorrows of the day were sown—
A sign upon a grave, a dub
To the slow death of man, unknown.
Silence is no picture of them,
Without a paint, it’s stark and grim.
Accepted: you die anonymous,
Though in your truth, you live a dream.
Though your heart in desert carries home,
Though your age was right for your own land,
Accepted: you die anonymous,
Like Zia’s glory, a vanishing strand.
When such a spirit’s light extinguishes,
And disappears, a beautiful dream ends,
Accepted: you die anonymous.
Too, houses died, their doors against walls bend.
Her streets, they mourned; the night came, withered,
Leaving a body, chronically loved,
A shiny star, whose songs no longer tethered
To the moon, now silently removed.
Rumored, the last beats from your heart,
You felt and then announced absence.
Faces passed like dreams, printed apart
On the plate-blooded board of lost essence.
Regrets the eye which saw of leaving
At mystery. It was not inspiring—
A frame to image aching, ever grieving.

***
Probability

The wheat stalks breathe you in,
Braid your letters for the evenings.
And stir your songs the day they met
Upon his face, the silence… the flock of stillness.
Depart to where we began our journey,
Indeed, the streams hold but fragments.
To a time squandered,
Forgive my death when I choose you,
To the mercy of the devout, in protest,
To the dwelling of the wound,
The distance of desolation.
And your endurance was to borrow
From the star, the day of collapse’s rituals.
Within you, the debasement of poems eludes,
Towards the sunrise.
And you quiet above some plains
The languages of apprehension,
In your sailing times.
You soothe the blaze of solitude… cities,
And pour into the eye the tears of reunion,
Branches from the beginning we were,
For the land of severance.
We carry to it the beseeching letters,
To write in love,
The beloved’s spinning song.
And you still swear by the earthquake,
So as to prepare a new homeland,
Which the questions lost in their lament,
And the impossible bolted its gates
With bursts of time that began to depart.
You never left the harvests of remembrance,
That we were quenching.
With your silence, visions will not overflow
The boundaries of emptiness.
And we…
Are in vain.

***

The child residing deep inside me

The child residing deep inside me,
When fear ignites, blazes with delight,
Shattering every frame,
Out into the street, he openly proclaims
His right to taste a morsel of truth.
With utter innocence, he’d plead with the sun’s rays,
As they arrived to confiscate tomorrow’s darkness.
He never knew that the morrow,
Lying slain on the heart’s threshold,
Was already sacrificed.
The child residing deep inside me,
Quietly gathers fragments from the shadow
Of the girl fallen from the window of desire.
He passes from beneath the navel,
To the furthest lip at the edge of the house,
Retreating to the corner, at the furthest bank,
And in the dark rooms, he rattles
Matchboxes.
The child residing deep inside me,
Has but one hand,
With it, he gathers the world before him,
Drawing it in clusters.
And within his notebook of dreams,
He scribbles, then redraws.
The child residing deep inside me,
Is inherently stubborn.
He demolishes every dream in an instant,
The moment he awakens
To a new dawn.

Abdel Latif Mubarak, also known by his Arabic name عبد اللطيف مبارك, is an Egyptian poet and lyricist born in 1964 in Suez . He is widely recognized as one of the most important poets of the 1980s. His poems have been published in numerous literary journals in Egypt and the Arab world, including Arab Magazine, Kuwait Magazine, News Literature, Republic Newspaper, AI-Ahram, and The New Publishing Culture . [ 1 ]

Abdel Latif Mubarak’s fame rests on his distinctive poetic style, which skillfully combines the beauty of words with profound reflection on aspects of life and humanity. His verses are imbued with sensitivity, emotion, and a profound understanding of the human condition.

Over the years, Mubarak has received numerous awards and accolades for his work. In 2014, he was honored with the Arab Media Union’s Shield of Excellence and Creativity, recognizing his significant impact on poetry and literature. In 2021, he also won the prestigious East Academy Shield of Excellence and Creativity, a testament to his continued perseverance and dedication to his craft.

Poetry from Niloy Rafiq

Painting of a middle aged South Asian man with curly hair, a green top, and a smile.

THE ACCUSED IS ACQUITTED

A lost morning draws coins in the hamlet of justice

Dreams burn fruitlessly on the bright mountains

The sun goes down in tired steps. In a whimsical deception

I draw words at the mirror of time, in the nest of creation.

A black odour in the sky of time, the shirt of state

Echoed with peaceful revolt, the fragrant pen

Comes running, I’m speaking the truth, my lord,

The accused is present here, take him away to the jail.

Birds fly as far as the illusory house of art

Flowers bloom in the garden at the yard all day long

Days after, at the end of the month, the accused appears

The tree-shade, the window of light burst in laughter.

The spring is over after crossing the six seasons

There is no sin, the notebook is blank, and the accused is acquitted.

Translated by Jyotirmoy Nandy

Niloy Rafiq was born in 6 August 1983 Maheshkhali, Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. Niloy Rafiq has been writing in the literary pages of local daily newspapers since his school days. Later, his poems were published in national and international literary magazines including various famous little magazines. So far, his notable poems have been translated into more than twenty foreign languages. His English poetry book ‘Sun Leaf” has already been published under ‘Stockholm Project 2033 Global Leader’ by Amazon. His second English translated poetry book ‘An Incomplete Kiss” has published in 2024 from Amazon. The number of his poetry books written in Bengali languages are six, respectively 1. I, the swan, float in pure sadness, 2. Thirst’s eternity, 3. Salty man’s face, 4. Unknown fire, 5. Adinath in eyes, 6. Wax prayer bowed in a clay body. His poetry has a magical, edgy feeling. Poet Niloy Rafiq is like a magician in the extraordinary weaving of words and rhythms.

Facebook: niloyrafiq

Poetry from Dr. Brent Yergensen

The Final Parable

His parables endure long past his enemies

But his last enflamed their violent tendencies

They brought one last fight, that band of foes

Said the storied teacher, ‘In this parable see your loathes’

Spelling the situation of a householder’s tower

And the husbandmen planning their plot for power

The vineyard owner inquired twice to know

What the husbandmen mocked with a fatal blow

Sending his son, trusting they’d have new eyes

The husbandmen again killed with more despise

The teacher then turned, asking what of the husbandmen’s fate

Realizing themselves the husbandmen, the teacher’s enemies took hate

And the chief priests admitted their plot against the teacher

Who knew and taught against their murderous feature

Brent Yergensen, Ph.D., is a Professor of Communication at The University of Texas at Tyler. His poetry has appeared in Academy of Heart and Mind and Bewildering Stories. As a scholar his research on aesthetics has appeared in numerous academic journals and anthologies.

Artwork from Jennie Park

Image of a thermometer with red mercury on its side with factories on the top emitting smog. What looks like bleached coral is on the bottom.
Image of a person's torso in a white silk dress. Her hand is reaching out and touching the ties.
Bald headed person hugging the bladed leaves of a green leafy plant.

Jennie Park is a high school student at an international school in Seoul, South Korea.  She is inspired by the layered textures of city life and the quiet details of everyday moments. When she’s not painting or sketching, she enjoys reading, writing, and discovering new artists.

Jakhongir Nomozov interviews Azerbaijani poet, translator, and linguist Firuza Mammadli

Young middle aged Central Asian man seated in a blue sweater with a coffee cup.
Jakhongir Nomozov

POETRY IS THE CRY OF OUR SOUL

Our interlocutor is one of the distinguished representatives of contemporary Azerbaijani literature — poet, writer, translator, linguist, pedagogue, PhD in Philology, Associate Professor, and member of the Writers’ Union of Azerbaijan, Firuza Mammadli.

— For you, what is the most important difference between prose and poetry? Which one reflects your inner world more fully and deeply?

— From the perspective of form, the difference between these two genres is evident. It is also true that both are products of artistic imagination.

Prose, as a rule, takes shape in terms of plot, composition, content, and expression.

Poetry, however, is realized within specific norms, relying on the accurate and purposeful selection and arrangement of poetic aspects hidden in the inner layers of language units — in other words, the semantic possibilities of words and expressions.

In classical Azerbaijani poetry — in forms such as the ghazal, qoshma, gerayli, lullabies, and others — this principle has always been preserved. Rhythm, harmony, rhyme, refrain, internal meter, syllable count, sound prolongation, and so on have been among the main elements that regulate the appeal of poetic thought.

In modern poetry, apart from these poetical-technical elements, the free verse form — which relies solely on the poetic spirit accumulated in the semantic layers of words — has also become one of the prevailing examples of contemporary creativity.

         In my view, poetry is a special state of the poet’s soul. It can be compared to a lightning flash that illuminates a single moment. Of course, in narrative poetry, in poems and verse plays, unlike in lyric poetry, the author needs time and lyrical digressions, which makes it difficult to liken them to lightning.

Poetry is the poet’s secret meeting with his own feelings.

Poetry is the rebellion of the silence within us.

Poetry is the outcry of our soul.

— You are a poet, a writer, a translator, and a scholar at the same time. Does working simultaneously in all these fields not cause difficulties for you?

— Poetry, prose, scholarly research, and teaching are the complete expressions of my public life. Each of them, being the product of both mind and heart, seems to wait for its own turn to be realized. A poem does not come every hour. Free moments, then, are more suitable for scientific research or prose.

— The serious obstacles and difficulties you faced on the path of science…

How did you overcome them? Today, how are young women being drawn into research, and in your opinion, what should be emphasized to inspire them?

— I did not face any serious difficulties while conducting my research. But completing the work and defending it cost me dearly. There were people who tried to obstruct my defense. I had written and submitted for defense my dissertation on the topic “The linguistic and stylistic features of Y.V. Chamanzaminli’s novels Girls’ Spring and In Blood*, dedicated to our incomparable writer, a victim of repression. During the defense, one member of the Academic Council — a pro-Armenian scholar — fled the session to prevent it from taking place. By repeating this act twice, he delayed my defense for two years. Finally, I defended the work and sent it to the Higher Attestation Commission in Moscow for approval. The same person sent an anonymous letter there as well. As a result, my work was sent to Turkmenistan for a review by a so-called “black opponent.” Only after receiving a positive review from there — which took another two years — was my dissertation officially approved with the title of Candidate of Sciences.

     My entire public activity has always been accompanied by obstacles and envy.

As for young people today, I do not see much genuine interest in scientific research. But my advice to young women is this: the path of science is difficult but honorable. When stepping onto this road, they must first take into account their inner world, their passion for the field, their willingness to sacrifice, and their readiness to endure psychological attacks. They must prepare themselves spiritually for such struggles. 

My second piece of advice is that if they cannot bring genuine novelty to their field, they should not pursue it merely for the sake of a title.

As for encouraging them, I cannot say I have strong arguments at hand.

— In literature, what is the most important concept for you? For example: the spirit of the era, the author’s personality, or the thematic problems of the work?

— Naturally, creativity values all three. Any work created is a product of its own era, carrying with it at least some information for the future about that time. For instance, the rich legacy of our writers such as M.F. Akhundov, J. Mammadguluzadeh, A. Hagverdiyev, N. Narimanov, and others serve as examples of this.

     In my view, the author, when creating a work, must present it from a completely objective standpoint, without displaying tendencies. Thematic problems, of course, find their artistic expression within the boundaries of time and space in the work.

— In society, do you think the value of people of art and science is adequately recognized?

— Unfortunately, no.

— What events in your life are tied to the concept of “self-sacrifice”?

— My entire life is the equivalent of “self-sacrifice.” Every step I have taken has been accompanied by obstacles, threats, conspiracies, intimidations, “accidents,” and deprivation.

The path I have walked for education, science, art, and profession I do not call a struggle, but rather a war.

— For you, what are the specific qualities of the image of a “woman writer and scholar”?

— A woman who is a writer and scholar must either not marry, or if she is fortunate, unite her life with someone who is understanding, appreciative, and values science and art as she does. Otherwise, if fate ties her to someone who pretends to be a poet without truly being one — that is a disaster… Among women of art, very few are fortunate enough to be happy in both family and creative life.

— As a woman, writer, scholar, and human being, how would you define yourself in a single sentence? In your opinion, what is science — to learn, to understand, or to accept?

— If I were a little younger, I would call myself a “hero” for having achieved all these titles (woman, writer, scholar, human). But now — at 85 — I call myself a “sufferer.”

As for learning, understanding, and accepting… Yes, science is learning, it is understanding, but I am not in favor of blind acceptance. If it represents absolute indicators of objective truths, then I accept — because that acceptance itself is the beginning of the road that leads to learning and understanding.

— How do you envision the literature of the future? With artificial intelligence, will not the emotions of the human heart lose their true value?

— If artificial intelligence is to create the literature of the future, it will likely be in detective or epistolary genres. Yes, artificial intelligence cannot fully express the subtleties of the human heart. It will mostly reflect what is encoded by its programmer. Motivated by the psychology of that programmer, it cannot, in general, acquire truly human qualities.

— In your view, how is the influence of women scholars in Azerbaijani society growing and developing?

— The rise in the influence of women scholars, poets, and artists in our country is an issue that requires special attention.

— Are there truths in our country that you have analyzed but never put into writing? 

While pursuing your dreams, have you ever felt yourself drifting away from your own self?

— In brief, to the first part of your question, I can say that there are many such truths, but I do not see the need to elaborate.

As for the second part: in my youth, such moments were frequent. Now I am far from dreams. I am a solitary dweller in the cell of bitter truths.

— Victor Hugo once said: “There is a sight more beautiful than the heavens — the depth of the human heart.” Do you think today’s poets and writers have truly descended into this depth of the human heart?

— No one can know another better than oneself.

The elders have said that poets are the engineers of the human heart. Yet only those poets who can transfer another’s sorrow or joy into their own hearts, and make those emotions their own, can descend to such depths.

At such a moment, poetry speaks through the poet’s pen with the cry of 

“I.” This, however, becomes an opportunity for critics to strike: 

“That poet only writes about themselves.”

In truth, some of those who read such poetry see their own sorrow in it, and read their own grief through those lines.

Among swimmers, there is even a branch called “deep divers.”

Likewise, for a poet to descend into the human heart, they must possess the nature of a deep diver — and the strength not to be wounded by reproach.

Furthermore, the lingering breath of “Soviet” atmosphere in public opinion and criticism still plays no small role here.

    Today, there are many who write. Naturally, it is impossible to follow them all. But descending into the depths of the human heart and bringing up pearls from there — that is not the task of every poet.

Jakhongir Nomozov is a young poet and journalist from Uzbekistan. He is also a Member of the Union of Journalists of Azerbaijan and the World Young Turkic Writers Union.