2011

Few hours before 2011 comes to an end. And I look back at the year. And there are very few things about the year that makes me feel good. As far as my memory takes me, this was probably one of the worst years I have lived through. I have been waiting for this year to come to an end, and as it is coming to an end, I feel nothing. All the waiting finally comes down to nothing?

I experienced so many failures this year. I never knew I had the strength to live through such bad times. But I did. Life does not give you any choice but to keep on living. This has been a year of losses, a year of low point in life, a year of failures, a year of change. I experienced, I faltered, I fought, I struggled, I gave up, and with all these I learned.

Three people went away from my life this year. I take with me their memory as I step into 2012.

I thank all the beautiful people who were there for me this year. The endless conversations that I have had with so many of you helped me hold on to myself. Thank you all.

I wish everyone an eventful 2012.

Towards the unknown

Tonight is my last night here in this house. My room, which I always liked clean and organized is a complete mess today. I will be sleeping with cartons occupying half of my room. I never knew I had so much stuffs with me unless today when I started packing them. I am not 10 per cent done. And since there is so much to do, I dont feel like doing anything. Too much panic=zero productivity.

Honestly, I dont want to leave this place. So many memories. Good ones. Bad ones. With each one, I have come out as a better person (or so I feel). And the fact that I will be leaving it tomorrow makes me want to cry. I dont want to sleep tonight. I just want to enjoy my last night here. I dont know when will I get to sit in so much peace, in a place I call my own.

Time

I can't believe that nearly one year has passed since you were gone. Time does fly. Life does move on. It does not remain the same, but it does move on. You carry in your heart some kind of pain, some kind of void, some kind of loneliness, and some kind of burden, but nothing stops. Probably people who leave us give us some special kind of strength that we did not know ever existed within us. I am sure Ma gave us all that strength. Wherever she is, I am sure she is looking on to us, protecting us, making sure we are doing alright. Miss you Ma. You are as alive to me as you always were.

When life leaves a bitter taste

The black forest cake at the Basantpur Cafe that I love so much tasted bad today. The chatpate that I savor is bland.

Heart of Lotus

A conversation that I had with DR made me realize that the only people who have the ability to make you cry are the ones who can really make you smile, not just smile on the exterior, but make your heart swell, swell like a balloon filled with air, flying high.

Ms Gigi, my amazing mentor, had sent me a poem nearly two years back. It was a time when I was questioning myself (I do that quite a lot). She did not judge me or try to guide me through my situation. She just sent me a beautiful poem from'Heart of a Lotus' by Swami Kripalu. I read it every time my heart is heavy. I would like to share it with all of you. May be it will help you when life is pressing you down, like really really down.

"My beloved child,
Break your heart no longer.
Each time you judge yourself, you break your own heart.
You stop feeding on the love which is the wellspring of your vitality.
The time has come. Your time to live, to celebrate.
And to see the goodness that you are.
You my child are divine. You are pure.
You are sublimely free.
You are God in disguise and you are always perfectly safe.
Do not fight the dark, just turn on the light.
Let go and Breathe in to the goodness that you are".

Security

Two days back, i.e. on December 2, 2011, Juju Kaji Bajracharya was found dead at the Guna Jyasa Pasa, a Pulchowk-based jewellery shop. It is really sad. There is no sense of security in our country. But I have heard of no place which is completely secure.

While I was going to Kumaripati, I passed through the same jewellery shop. There were security personnel, media and lots of other people who were demanding something, I do not really know what. They were probably demanding that the culprit be brought to book and that Juju Kaji's family be provided with proper compensation. I really appreciate that in events like this, everyone from the family of the deceased to friends, to strangers come together to ensure that justice is provided.

So, while I was appreciating what they were demanding, I learnt that all the silver and gold shops in Kathmandu were closed. Yes, they were demanding the two things that I mentioned in my last paragraph, but they were also demanding that government ensure the security of silver and gold traders. The officials of Nepal Bullion Dealers Association apparently met with the Home Minister Bijay Kumar Gachhadar to provide necessary security for the traders. I was pretty surprised.

I mean why did they demand only the security of 'gold and silver traders', and not 'countrymen'? Aren't the gold and silver traders part of the whole? and Will they not be guaranteed security if the whole gets such security? I really don't understand such dynamics. When incidents like these happen, people tend to forget the real problem. It is not a certain group, or an occupation that is threatened. It is a macro level problem which needs to be addressed. The issue here is security and not security of a certain group. During times like these, it is nice that a particular community comes together. I however believe that it is not about a particular community, the issue is about the countrymen, and this is what we need to realize.

While they are going ahead with their protest and demand (for which I have serious reservations), I pray that may Juju Kaji's soul be at peace. Amen.

A song to make you feel good

All days are not happy. All days are not exciting. Today is one of those days when I am feeling very low. I was listening this song called Way Back Into Love from the movie 'Music and Lyrics'. This song makes me feel better. Its not the kind of song that uplifts your spirits. But I like it, and it makes me smile. I would have liked to upload the song here, but my internet is just too slow for it. Here is the link to this beautiful song :)

Way Back into Love

Honitus

I pay a ten rupees note to the photocopier for the eight-rupee worth photocopies. While I am expecting my two-rupees back, she hands me a Honitus. I didn't want a Honitus, I don't like Honitus. I would have appreciated if she had given me back my two rupees. Would she accept four Honitus for the photocopies?

An evening at Patan Durbar Square

I am feeling really sleepy but I just wanted to write about the great time I had at Patan Durbar Square today. I had never seen Kutumba perform (I know its surprising, but that's how it is). I had read and heard about their great music but somehow never really got a chance to attend their shows. If it was not for Z, may be I would have missed this chance as well. So, thank you Z for a great evening. Kutumba was awesome, and the best part is they were playing for this great cause. The proceeds from the show are going towards the establishment of a birthing centre in Mugu. I hope that the vision with which the event was organized is attained.

Food for thought

I am very careful with the quantity of food that is served on my plate. Not that I am obsessed with my weight (I used to be fat once upon a time, but it had nothing to do with the quantity of food I consumed). The plain reason is that I don't like wasting food. Ever since I was a kid, even when I nothing about world hunger, food scarcity, food security, and what nots, I made a point to finish off whatever was served to me. This must have come to me as a legacy from my father. He is an idealist in so many ways, and respecting food tops his list.

This world has many ugly sides to it; One of them is Hunger. Data show that there were 925 million hungry people in this world in 2010. This is a huge number. I am not saying that you will be feeding anyone if you do not waste food. You probably won't. May be the world hunger will remain at its present mark, may be people will keep dying of hunger, may be children will continue to be malnourished, may be women will keep dying during childbirth because of lack of proper food. But, by not wasting food, you will sleep peacefully without having any kind of guilt. You will know that you had only what was meant for you, what was your share.

I am not sure why am I writing about hunger and food today. May be I am feeling guilty . The first article I read today morning was about hunger and about ways we can avoid wasting food. And I was proud that I belong to the group that does not waste food. But today. when I went to a restaurant, I did otherwise. I tried to stuff myself with the extras, but just could not. So, it may be this guilt of throwing away food that compelled me to write this. I don't want to feel this way again. I will make a point to order only what I can eat the next time I visit a restaurant. I will certainly not be contributing anything to this world, but at least I will sleep peacefully.

On Friends

Today I was thinking about friends. I was thinking how strange individuals come into your life, and become a part of it till eternity. Well, you lose some on the path, but those who stick to you are the only ones you can call friends.

Yesterday I met A and B (didn't realize that combo!), with whom I have been friends for more than one and a half decade. Good lord! that's a long time. May be this is the reason that our relationship has transcended into something beautiful, something beyond just friendship. There are few people I share such a relationship with (well, that must be true for almost everyone), and I feel grateful to god for that.

Friends are certainly the fortress of our life. Only they will drum up enthusiasm and tag along when you want to do your nails at a salon. They show interest in your drawing room décor and listen to you for the nth time when the curtains don’t match the sofa covers and come up with intelligent solutions. When you are pushing 70 kgs and bawling the “I am so fat. I don’t know what to do” line, they do not snap and say “So, then exercise” rather give you a patient hearing and talk non-stop about salads, Atkins, gymming machines and yoga teachers till you can almost feel the fat melt.

They scrutinize your man more than they will scrutinize their own partners, because they are more concerned about your life than you yourself are. They will be there for you when your affair with your man blossoms and/if it fails. And if the latter happens, they will tell you how it was not your fault and that there’s a lot of fish in the sea and that he never deserved you and the like (it might not do any good, but they try nevertheless).

They take you on a crazy drive on their scooter on a rainy day without a raincoat to a distant place just to meet their recent crush, and act stupid in front of them, making you feel like a total fool, but still making it a memory you will cherish forever.

They will get drunk and sing the worst songs, dance to the tunes of 'undanceable' songs, laugh for no reasons, and help you forget the pain you have been carrying in your heart for days.

This post is dedicated to all those lovely people I can call 'friends', who have been there for me, who have rejoiced over my happiness, given me faith during hard times, and who let me be just me!

While I had started writing this post for friends in general, I realize that it turned out to be for my 'girlfriends') :)

The story of my room

It was day before yesterday that my bed was attacked by a rat in the middle of the night. While I was tucked in my bed, sleeping peacefully, the evil rat (I have no idea how it entered the house), found its way into my bedroom, got inside my blanket and walked over my body (ewww!!!). I realized it very late, when it got to the top of my body. I jumped out of my bed, and it too jumped, and ran outside my room. Holy s**t! It was a frog some day back and now a rat. I don't know why do they love my room so much. So, since yesterday morning, I have not left the door of my room open even for a minute. While I hate the thought of the rat inside the house, I hate it even more to think of it inside my room.

So, I was in my room nearly the whole day, with the door closed, trying to work on a pending project (with occasional drifting to facebook, blogs, cooking, etc). So, I took a careful look of my room, and the things that are in there. After shifting to the flat, I had no idea how I would make my room livable. Everything I bought, and gathered together has a story attached to it. I will give you a brief virtual walk around my room.

1. As soon as you enter the room, the first thing you will see is my book rack. On the top shelf of the rack, I have my bags (since I have no other place to keep them). As I count them, I think I have eight bags, including one laptop bag which my brother gave to me reluctantly, three jute bags that DR got for me from different places (for my love of jute), one leather bag that my sister gave to me which was gifted to her by her brother-in-law (she gave it willingly since she had nowhere to carry the bag), two cloth bags, of which one my brother got from Delhi and one was given to me by my former boss (he had got the bag in one of the conferences he attended in India),and one fake leather that I bought looong time back. Hmmm...so, I never realized but almost all my bags are gifts :) Thank you everyone! So, going back to the book rack, other shelves of the rack has what a book rack is supposed to have, loooots of books that I got from different places, books that I absolutely love. There are magazines, files, loose papers, photo albums, notes from my postgraduate days (they are not over yet. The thesis thing is hovering over me), etc etc.

2. On the upper left and upper right of the book rack, there are two beautiful and exquisite painting and collage by a very dear friend and a fabulous artist Chirag Bangdel. One is from his series Geet Govinda, and the other is his very famous multimedia collage work that he calls Tattva. Both these paintings give life to my room, and the painting of Geet Govinda is right in front of my bed. So, I wake up everyday looking at this beautiful piece of art, which calms my senses. I cannot thank him enough for gifting (yes! gifting) them to me. :))

3. On the right corner of the room, there is my almirah. It is a simple wooden almirah with a half body mirror to its right side. On the left part, I have pictures pasted all over it. These are the pictures of me with the most important people in my life. As you can see, there are a lot of them. There are some pictures in the inside of the almirah as well. On top of the almirah are some awards that I received for my involvement in service projects, mostly in LEO Club.

4. Between the almirah and my bed (read mattress), there is a small low-square-table (if you understand what I mean). I had self-designed this table and had asked the carpenter in my neighborhood to make it, and I was very happy with the fifnal output. This table is full of little things including the minimal cosmetics I use, a lamp, a crystal tortoise gifted to me by M, a crystal Ganesha given by my brother R, a photo frame of my late grandparents, a photo frame with a picture of me and my mom, a statute of Lord Krishna, perfumes, binder clips, few CDs, a penholder, business card holder and a box of 'eggless cookies' (which I am munching as I write).

5. Between the table and my mattress, there are books which I am reading, and have not been able to complete for many reasons. The books are Law, Liberty and Livelihood: Making a Living on the Street, Edited by Parth J Shah and Naveen Mandava, Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Unleashing Nepal by Sujeev Shakya, and Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy.

5. On my mattress, there are my blankets, pillows, some papers, and a cushion (which was given by my awesome team on my last birthday.

6. On the floor, above my carpet, there are lots of papers, notepads, books, my purse, a voice recorder, mobile cover, plates and bowls (which I have been too lazy to go and keep in the kitchen sink), and files which I always arrange when i clean but they end up becoming messy by the night.

7. There is also a hand made rug that my grandmother made. She was very good at them, and after she passed away last january, I brought one from home in her memory.

So, this is what my small room stores. I had never really looked at the things in this detail. While I completely hate the rat, I am happy that it made me sit quietly and enjoy what little I have :)

A question

I came back to Kathmandu after more than a month, and honestly, it feels great to be back. I mean, life seemed to have halted for a month for me. All I did was cook, and clean, and then again cook and clean. Anyway, yes, it feels great to be back. As I drove my scooter the first day..which did not start for a long time, and gave in only after DR drained all his energy to get it kickstarted. So, I was saying that as I drove my scooter for the first time after coming back, it felt great. Sometimes, even today, while I am driving, I cant believe that it is me. I was so so scared of driving. I had this feeling that all the microbus drivers, bus drivers, motorcyclists, and everyone in between would come and hit me as soon as I was on the road. Well, of course that is not true, they dont do it.

Anyway, so as I was driving, I thought about a lot of things. Thats what I do. I dont listen to music while I am driving. So, to entertain myself, I think. While I was thinking about a lot of things, one particular question intrigued me. So, we have so many men and women who have invented a lot of things, and made our life easy. For instance, Charles Babbage invented computers and is called the 'Father of Computer,' Galileo Galilei is called the 'Father of Science', Adam Smith, the 'Father of Economics', and so forth. I was wondering what would a woman be called if she was the inventor of all these. I mean, what if some Amanda Smith had written the Wealth of Nations, what if some Caroline Babbage had invented Computer, and what if some Grace Galilei was responsible for the birth of modern science? Would they be called mother of so and so...I wonder....I was googling how many fathers we have...here is a snapshot:))

Free time, finally!

This last month has been crazy. Although I was holidaying, I have had no free time to sit back and relax. It has been a lot of work, a lot of traveling, a lot of family events, festivities, cleaning, cooking, hosting guests, and so on. So, yesterday was one of those rare days when I just took it easy. I was spared of the kitchen work, and we had no guests at home. I watched two movies back to back.

The first one was The Black Swan and the second one was Serendipity. Thanks to my brother R who saved some 20 movies that he downloaded at his college. It has been long that I wanted to watch The Black Swan after all the critical acclaim and the awards that it received. It is a splendid movie. It is different, sort of unreal. DR thinks that it is grotesque. He couldn’t watch the movie after this one particular scene where Nina (played by Natalie Portman) peels off the skin from one of her fingers. Well, if he had watched the entire movie, he would see a lot more disturbing scenes. But that’s what movies are about. Sometimes, they show things and events that do not happen in real life. I loved all the dancing, the plot, the perfect bodies of the ballerinas, the passion, the darkness. It shows how far a person can go to attain perfection, or so I think. Although the movie made me sad, it also made me look back and think.



It was the second time I was watching Serendipity. Like Sarah in the movie, I have always loved the word ‘serendipity’, the way it sounds. I am a believer in fate, in destiny. I think that everything happens for a reason, and if something is meant to be, it would be. So, if was natural for me to enjoy the movie. It is a light movie, and was a welcome change after The Black Swan.

With this big time movie mood, I am planning to watch yet another movie. It is called (500) days of summer. I have no idea what the movie is about. Let’s hope it is entertaining!

M for marriage

This month has been full of news. So many people close to me have marriage on the cards. Yesterday, as I opened my facebook mail, I got a group message from a friend. A is getting married. The dates have been finalized. 17 February 2012 it is. M too got engaged to the love of her life. She will be getting married around the same time, the dates are yet to be fixed. Another very dear friend is getting married in January, to another dear friend (hope I am not confusing you). And did I mention that my little brother too is getting married this January. When I think of it, its really hard for me to believe. 2012 is going to be eventful. I wish all these beautiful people the very best. God bless all of them. With love, K!

A Passing Thought

It has been more than a year that I have been living a life that I had always wanted to...and exactly one year that I shifted to the place I live. I still remember the day. I had felt so hopeless. I had wanted to cry out loud. Our previous landlord (who was an absolute jerk) had forced us out of the house and we were in a new place just after three months of living in the old place. I was in Pokhara when my roommates had to shift in a frenzy. When I came back and visited the new place, I did not know how to think and react. Everything was such a major mess. After my flatmates left to buy some groceries, I had silently wept.

I was missing home. I realized the cost one has to pay to be 'independent'. One year later, I feel more settled now. The 2BH apartment might not be the best apartment, but I have come to think of it as home. When i am traveling for work, I cant wait to be back 'home'. The mattress might not be the most comfortable one, but I still can sleep peacefully. (Except for the time when it was attacked by an ugly frog...ewwww). The food I cook might not be anything close to what my mom cooks, it still is something I have cooked and can eat it with pride.

Living on your own has its charms, and demerits. There are frustrating times, so frustrating that you want to tear apart. I moved out from my aunt's place to be on my own, to find solitude when I got back home after a long day, to live my life on my own terms, without someone deciding my schedule for me. But, the same reasons make me utterly depressed sometimes...to find myself alone when I get back home and to eat my dinners by myself. Dashain is around the corner, and obviously the roads of Kathmandu are jam-packed. It has been exactly five days that I have been getting stuck for hours amidst trucks, buses, micros, cars, motorcycles, taxis, and people. While during my trips to Butwal and Palpa, I saw very few people. This sums up the whole of Nepal's dream of a city, the dream of making it big in Kathmandu. Kathmandu is a roof to all of Nepal's budding dreams although it does not have much to offer. I myself have been a slave to this, so I have no right to complain. I am just trying to say that there must be so many people who are living a life like mine, and pondering over the life they have chosen for themselves.

As the seventh day of the festive season approaches, the Kathmandu roads will gradually get empty, with the dreamers heading back home, to enjoy the warmth that they have been longing for the past six months, to wake up to the clinking of their mother's bangles, and the cacophony of everything that is associated with home. They can get up peacefully without having to worry about preparing breakfast, dressing up for the work that they are not very happy with, and paying the grocery store owner and the landlord. They can afford to steal a couple of extra minutes after waking up, to smile peacefully at the world and their life.

Honestly, I am no different. I am waiting for October 2, to get on that bus that will take me to the place where I can be just be my mamma's daughter !

Midnight sleep crisis

Tonight is one of those nights when I can't sleep. I remember mom complaining how she could not sleep at nights. I used to find it strange thinking how could someone not be able to sleep. But now I understand. I have a lot to do today and for some funny reason, when I have a lot to do, I can do nothing. That probably happens with a lot of people. A friend keeps telling me that I need a vacation. I surely do. This month and the next will be a lot of traveling for me. In September, it is mostly work related, and in October I am visiting my sister's place in India. She gave birth to a baby boy 4 days back:) Everybody is happy, and so am I. Its a great feeling when sisters become mothers. I know it. I so want to be there with my sister and the lil one. That will be a real vacation for me. I am looking forward to it.

About Home

So, I am back to Kathmandu, and I am feeling low. Missing home, missing my mom, dad, brother, and everything that is associated with being home. I come back to Kathmandu out of choice, and I don’t have a compulsion. So, I probably do not have the right to whine, but every time, as I cross the mayhem of Kalanki, melancholy seeps in. Probably everyone who gets back after a good time with family members feel the way I do at the moment. I think about the futility of all of this. Why is it important that we leave home to make a life for ourselves while we can have a life with our loved ones back home? Why do we need to have these dreams? Why is the city life so alluring? Is it the high-end eatery joints? The freedom? The independence? or just a state of mind?

As I think and ponder about all of it, I know that I want to be here as much I want to be home. May be when I get up tomorrow morning, I will feel better, and more at ‘home.’

Reliving the past

It has been nearly a week that I came to Birgunj, my janmabhumi. Last time when I wrote all good things about Birgunj, not because I think it is an awesome place, but because I feel close to this place, for it is where I lived the happiest of my days, I got a lot of negative remarks from those 'Birgunj-haters' (I feel sad that there are many of them). Anyway, I am here, and it is always great being here, because it is home. I do not go around a lot when I am here, because I am too busy basking in the glory of being home, eating ghar ki daal, and sleeping without worrying to get up early to go to work (although I have piles of pending assignments lying on my bedside table :( )

Anyway, today was one of those rare occasions when I went out. I went shopping. Shopping for what? Vegetables. Where? The infamous vegetable market in Birgunj..O yea, it is infamous. Today it especially proved why it is infamous. It had rained all day yesterday, and those of you who have never been here cannot understand when I say it was filthy, really filthy. The mud, water, rotten vegetables, smell of bad fish, and not to forget sweating people...the coming together of all of this, in one place, made it the most unappealing place to be. But I was there, and I couldn't leave my mom there, to shop for vegetables all alone. So, I reluctantly followed her.

The market is nothing new to me though. The nostalgia of the place stuck me. When I was a kid, and a little old later, I used to accompany my mother nearly everyday to this market. We used to live very close to this place, and so my mom wanted to get 'fresh vegetables' everyday. I would dutifully carry the shopping bags, which would get heavier as we moved from one seller to another. I used to scorn at my mom for dragging me there, but secretly I enjoyed it. I enjoyed looking at mom trying to get the best potatoes at the best price, the greenest greens, the freshest fruits. As I come to think of it today, it was this ritual that made me a better shopper, because I learnt the tricks of bargaining from my mom. :)

As we entered the market today, I saw a lady selling cauliflowers, which was on our list as well. I pointed towards the woman selling them but mom didnt move towards her because 'she is very rude', was my mom's answer. I found it pretty amusing that my mom knew the woman, and more so, how she behaves. As we went from one 'sabjiwala' to another, I realized how the motion of life seems to have stopped for all those who are in this line of business. One of the shops particularly intrigued me. They are wholesaler of potatoes and onions. The man who used to handle the cash was no more there, and the place of the sauji was occupied by the man who used to weigh the potatoes/tomatoes for us, and his place, in turn, was taken by his son. Now, that was something. I kept wondering if the little boy, now a grown up, who used to savor his lollypop sitting in his father's shop, really wanted to do this-sell vegetables? May be he did, or may be he didn't.

When we were done shopping, we had two big bag full of all kinds of vegetables. My mom was leading, and I was following, just like the old times. On our way back home, I thought of those days, when my mom used to buy me a packet of popcorn (we used to get a small packet of popcorn in two rupees back then) as my reward for being with her and carrying the load.

Today, after my accomplishment at the market, all I wanted was to have the popcorn, and complete the full cycle.

Ramblings of a frustrated citizen

I am happy i reached office without my fatfate getting stopped on my way to office. I am happier that I didnt have to push my bike in the middle of the road. The roads were relatively empty today with not many vehicles plying on the road, thanks to the irregular supply of petroleum products by NOC."Yo desh ma sabaila man pari garchan." So NOC has every right to do it as well, huh.


This is frustrating, really really frustrating. I get up in the morning, and I stumble after i hit the small table in my room because it is dark, because we dont have electricity, because we are going through a period when we have loadshedding for 14 hours a day, which means no electricity in the mornings, no electricity at nights, and when there is electricity, we are not at home to enjoy it. Irony.


In the bathroom, there is no water, because there is no water anywhere, because our ghar peti does not switch on the motor because when we have electricity she is not at home to switch on the motor, and when she is home, there is no electricity. Irony again.


How long are we going to live like this, like a poverty stricken bunch of people. Why is it that although we are paying Nrs 97 per litre (which is 9 rupees more than what we paid few months back), we dont have a smooth supply of petrol? How come NOC has all the money to declare bonuses and dividends when it is suffering from billions of losses?

Why is it that we Nepalese are ready to go through this pain of waiting in the petrol queue for hours without questioning our administration? How can we just accept not having water and electricity at home, and wake up in the wee hours of the night to fill our jars and buckets of water, and charge our cellphone batteries? Why is it that all we do is say "yestai ho, k garne?" We need to wake up and question. We might not get answers to all our problems, but at least we will feel good about questioning. It is our right as citizens, our responsibility too. Our government cant just get away with cheating us all the time, making us the victim all the time, conning us all the time.

Not even death could do them apart

And this time…I knew why the phone was ringing early in the morning. He left us because he had to be with her…I hope they are together somewhere, and looking over their kids.



We miss you maa and bauji.

Losing her

I lost my grandmom yesterday. This is my first experience of losing a loved one. I don’t know how to feel, how to react. When dad called me at 7:00 in the morning I avoided his call thinking that he must be on his morning walk, and called me in the wee hour just to ask of my well being. Thinking of calling him back later, I pulled my quilt over my face. The second time my phone vibrated with my aunt’s call, I knew something was wrong. The wailing sound on the other side of the phone made me jolt from my bed. I felt guilty for avoiding dad’s call, really guilty.

After a bumpy ride in a Tata Sumo for 5 hours, we reached Birgunj with teary eyes. Everyone was waiting for our arrival, for taking away grandmom from us forever. As she lay on the pyre with the red chunari, she was looking just too beautiful and too animated. We were waiting for her to get up and tell us that she is fine, and she is going to be with us for many more years to come. We were waiting for her face to light up and consequently lighting ours. We kept waiting when they took her away for her journey to a new world. “Ram naam satya hai,” they said. The music of the band playing outside told us to celebrate her departure. Just that, we could not.

I was given the responsibility of cleaning the house while they went to the ghaat. As I went upstairs, I looked at the vacant space where she sat every time I visited home. As I entered my room, I expected her to quickly follow me like she always did. She had so many questions to ask, about life, about work, about this, about that. So many questions, I would complain. She had this need for everybody to be with her all the time, not to leave her alone. But, no one would think of her need for being with her as her need to feel loved. Today, when everybody is here for her, it is ironical that she isn’t here to get our love, our affection that is finally coming out of us, something that was hidden deep in our hearts and we never realized it.

As I swiftly do the cleaning and organizing, I wait for the voice that would tell me to get the phone every time it rang even when I were closer to the phone and knew that I am supposed to get it. I wait for the voice that would remind me of the rules and regulations of the house. I long for the authority, the power, the spirituality, the faith.

How we would get agitated every time she saw the repeat telecast of every tele serial and how we would remind her that she had already watched the episode last night. Every time, she would say that “No beta, see this scene was not shown last night.” She monopolized the television set, and now the set lies in the corner, with no one interested in it. As I sit inside my room, the silence of the living room haunts me.

I have grown up with her. I feel guilty for telling the world that she cried when I was born. I have mocked her, I have hurt her. For all those times, I feel sorry. For all those times, I detest myself. How can I have been so mean and so unreasonable? She gave me all the love she could. I was her bitiya rani, the granddaughter she was immensely proud of. Every time someone visited our house, she had one story associated with me to share with everybody. She loved me. How could I have doubted her?

She was always the one in power, and we were so used to it that in her absence, we feel lost. There is sadness, but more than that there is this feeling of losing a guardian, who stopped us every time we were to take a wrong step, a guide who reminded of the little intricacies of life.

There are relatives, well wishes, neighbors, and others who visit our house all day long. Certainly, everyone has anecdotes to share about her. All of them are interesting. Some make us cry, while we laugh over the incident when she literally caned a thief who tried to take her possessions many years back. She was a gossip queen for me in the sense that she had so many stories to share about people that existed in her small world. When the tables turned today, all I could do was smile as I looked at her freshly framed photo.

January 7 2010