Tuesday, November 11, 2008

A Memory

I am writing my own experience way to Shankhuwasabha. Actually this story reminds
me of going home in 2064 in Dashain vacation. It was my five times going back home but after a long time, around five years, again I was going home back from bottleneck Kathmandu with friends. I was quite happy. We set off from Kalanki around 5 a.m. our bus was MITERI express. We saw Kathmandu off. Listening melodious Nepali and Hindi musics and looking around we speeded up an average 70km per hour.
I am really fond of traveling new places. I enjoyed a lot seeing panoramas. We arrived at lunch station 11 am. You have 45 minutes for lunch; please have fast, our bus conductor summoned. I was drunk, I did not have but took one minerals water. Our journey went on with new places and new experiences. We had already entered into Tarai territory. Costumes of Madhesi people are completely different than that of indigenous people that I was thinking – brainstorming. What a mess! A passenger shouted. Giant buses were in queue, people were gathering but we were unknown what was happening. Later on we came to know that local person was hit by bus; spot dead. We had to wait three hours there. We had no other options except for waiting until two parties come on an agreement.We were expecting to be reached in Dharan at 5 o, clock in the evening but reached in Dharan at 2 a:m next morning and Meanwhile, we got another problem, Nowhere motel was seen opened so we decided to have rest on street. Our 14 years old friend did not want to sleep. We knew that it was his first real life going out of home. Actually he was going to parents’ village to celebrate Dashain, his parents had requested me to take care of him and bring him back along with me. Another friend was Battase. His real name is Umesh brother but I prefer to call him battase because I had heard him calling battase very first day of our meeting being called by his friends, Tadeli- Udip brother, Deppa -Mohan brother and Tas-Tas- Ishwor brother. I had known them six seven years ago in Kathmandu. None of them were my type. They all were frank. I miss them even today.
In the early morning we caught up first bus Dharan to Hile - Pakribas. We reached Bhedetar at around 6:30 am. It seems wonderful to see me andering roads. It is also known as Charles point from where Dharan can be clearly seen in western side and Dhankuta in eastern side.
From Bhedetar our noisy bus headed towards Dhankuta with an eye to reach by 9 o, clock. Still we had a long way to go- Hile to Pakribas. The Bus was like tortoise where there is upslope. Inside the bus there was not even an empty place to stand. People were seen standing holding the iron rod, we hardly arrived Pakribas 2 hours later. Once upon a time, one of my friends of Bhojpur had told me Pakribas is the place where they separate from. Now he is in his village. His father has opened new boarding school. He had once requested me to come and work together. I have heard that he is doing good job.
We made a mind to reach Khahare so caught a land rover till Baireni. I did not know before there is available land rover only. The owner said we have no empty seat inside, if you guys want to go get fixed roof top. I requested the owner to provide a seat for a child inside. He agreed. When reached to Baireni, we were fully covered with dust. It was quit e pathetic condition we had. Baireni was the last destination traveling by vehicles. Then, from Baireni we had to use eleven numbers.
Akkar is most scary cliff left to cross. We all were quite curious to see after making new wide road. We saw it as comfortable as other road being made by Dozer but upward hill is rock cliff and downward is crazy Koshi river flowing. Three lives had lost their life from Akkar so far as I know. Mules are seen carrying foods. Many time they made trouble to take them over. To reach Khahare for night stay we had to do walkathon one more hour. It was already dark. Hadn’t it been 14 years boy, I would have fallen into the Arun River. He was holding my hand tightly. My leg got sprain from that time. We finally reached there at 8, o, clock. We all took a long breath. No places we got for shelter, for it was Dashain time, all house were seen covered by travelers. One woman hardly provided but was nothing besides sukkul. We decided to huddle on the sukkul. Again next early morning we had to use eleven numbers until we reached Katle-bhanjyang. It is corner of Tumlingtar. From that point we again would get another bus. So our mission was to reach Katle-bhanjyang as soon as possible. It is the place where Sabhaya River and Arun River mingle. Tumlingtar is only one air port of shankhuwasabha; it is also known as deepest valley in the world. Both sides it is covered by Arun River and Sabhaya River. It is situated a bout 900m at height from sea level. To cross on food throughout Tumlingtar, an average estimated time is two hours. The prototype of Tumlingtar is still unknown how it happen its name. In my perspective, many decades ago Rais were landowner in that places before approving Nepal land reform act in 2021. I want to resemble the reference. Tummi- eldest, tar- plain are a in lohorung language. Probably, it was the area of eldest one. Even today Lohorung people have land in Tumlingtar.
Our bus driver said, ‘we reach khandbari at 9 o, clock’. It means it takes 2 hours. But I was bit sad because I did not go to sister’s house. My sister was requesting me walk in while coming home. I was so tired so I wanted to go home first. If I had been to my sister’s house, she would not have let me go immediately; though in tumlingtar boys I know them I did not want to say hello either due to health problem. We reached at home around 9:30 am . Dashain had been already welcomed by boys. We were happy to meet each other. Rami, next to my house, had already been there I did not know. Although he is younger than me, he is as a good friend. He is my brother’s mate. My brother went to kathmandu for studying engineering and he went to itahari. During our stay at home more often we stayed together. We went to see our field where we had spent our beautiful childhood days playing marbles. We got nothing remained same besides our beautiful memories. Jaad is one of the pure home made alcohols that we daily used to drink at home . And in the evening time we used to go to the relatives house.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

November 5

Autumn season, 5 November 2008 at dawn, remained unlike other days. Last night mother made a call from countryside while I was reading strategy development manual provided by facilitator Gyan Yonzon in course of taking three days strategy development workshop. Mother was asking everything about us that we belong. I slept at around eleven p.m making a plan to go public library tomorrow. But I could not sleep properly. When woke up it was already 5:30 am, my morning walk started as a usual.I was quite enthusiast I have no idea until now.
Having tea, sharing happiness with glittering snow capped mountain- a natural country, I sat on holding a pen and paper to write the letter to my mother for the first time.
Dear mother!
I know you have already got why I am writing this letter. I am in problem. I do not have words to address about you. It has been twenty four springs I have been reading ever since I arrived in this world. You are as eternal as Pacific Ocean, as pure as Koshi River. No one can measure you.
I am choked. I cannot stand and still without sharing you. You are the one who can understand everything. I want to untie my knot before you. It has almost become ten years of our separation. Time has turned over new leaf of life. I have now known time and tide waits none. I am changed, you are changed. Everything is changed. But realities unchanged.
I have wanted you to show her. She is great and kindhearted like you. When she comes by the side I feel as to you. She knows women can be beautiful only if she has gone through some kind of struggle for survival. No matter who she is and no matter how she looks. I want to write a beautiful Nepal by accompanying her wherever I go. She has well known and seen the world. Her children cannot be lost indigenous. She will teach own language, culture and Nepal itself. She will be the best mother. She makes her own identity- Nepali, Indigenous, Lohorung
But I am scared, mother. If I could not do as I promised, her dream will be scattered.
You know how it hurts. I don’t want to hurt her at all.