Tuesday, December 2, 2008


I saw a woman, at the age of seventy, at around 4 o’clock; while the sun was going in another hemisphere of the globe to see the people like us who are really enjoying the world in their own world on his presence, walking in the middle of indigenous land.

I am a graduate student often come to visit this place. I had come from my college in this area. I had come here to study about its geography but I was always attracted by that place. Hours and hours I spend sitting under the tree and looking all around, hearing the bird’s chirps and beautiful music flapping the leaves of poplar tree by wind. It has been my regular life. As a student of geography I have visited many places but none of the places I liked more than this. I have been observing geographies of the world.

She was smooth and walking slowly. Both side of road seen beautiful garden. The daffodil and poplar trees were laughing at her I would feel. Her dress and white hair and that beautiful garden and spectrum of sun would have seen perfect color combination. Looked each and every corner, got entered into cottage, sat on the wood chair taking long breathe as if she had done some mistakes and her repentance.

I had been told by our teacher a visiting professor in course of taking a nostalgia class. Many years ago an ingenious, who loved an unknown lady, had made this place in the name of his lover. According to our teacher, the lady to whom he loved had left him for her better career and life. It was the place they united and split. They had promised and separated hoping to be reunited in the future. The indigenous boy had given her a word to make her beautiful garden when she returns. Years passed but got no massage from her. While taking the class, our teacher would have seen serious but calm when the explanation begun. I actually did not know where his original place was. I never asked and he never told. I just knew his “langkkam” a diary.

I used to see a woman sometimes; she used sit on the chair and remains many hours. That was my hangout in my collage life. I wanted to know who she was. Moreover, I had wanted to take her photo. She looked perfect as if this cottage was made for her only, my heart was saying. The next day same time I was coming towards my usual place.

The old, seen in the seventy,lady was already there. She was seen writing on the table. I got surprised, again thought she might be like me for wandering. I went nearer and hid behind the tree. I took her photograph too. Today she left that place a bit late. There was a white paper could be clearly seen. This day the woman was crying and weeping laying her head on the table. I thought what insanity! My mind and eyes concentrated upon her.

She touched carving stones, blooming flowers. Fore a while, she stirred and disappeared.
I got hesitated. It was the first time I happened to be there on that table, picked paper up. It had small words but articulate writing.

Today is my last visit to you; I, your Langkkam, am extremely sorry I could not remain here although I wanted to be. When I got back after four decades, I was welcomed by beautiful naturally decorated garden and cottage. You used to say this is our place we lost our soul; this is the place the soul I will nurture.

Let me apologize, otherwise I will not get rest not only in hell but also in heaven. Nevertheless I have no longer time, I have realized you more in depth that triumph of the world is supposed to be less worthier than winning to self. I have been severely overwhelmed by melancholy, let it be poured. Otherwise, I cannot remain standstill in front of you during my survival. Then I will get rest forever on your lap.

After reading the paper, I could not escape or I never longed to get back either. I have been staying in this place from that time. It has doomed, my hair has turned into white and face into wrinkle as of woman. It is now time to leave this precious place.

I, namsang, a journalist and photographer on Wednesday Dec 2008, was looking for earthy matters. Un-located destination drove me away to indigenous land which was beyond my speculation. The place seems to have designed by soul mates. It would be better for health to have fresh air, I thought and sat under the tree leaned against it made me fore enchanted.

Among many remarkable things cottage and its surrounding garden is like heavenly place. For I was making the shape to take photo, my eyes stopped over the table on which white paper fellow were seen. Unwillingly my steps headed, and stopped besides the table, held the paper.

It was an unimagined story written by a student about his professor and his lost lover. An event, for the first time he came to visit, made him sitting on the chair forever, he explains.
I made a mind to take it home and write a book about this story. It has succeeded too. No more I was satisfied with world and fame.

Now I comprehend the real world sitting on the chair, Very soon, I also will be turned into white hair and wrinkle face.

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