"When I came of age, I started to wonder why my father, a devout Buddhist named me after a Hindu god. It was my sister who told me that he had a strange liking for a name and although there was unspoken dissent in the family, it did not change his decision. My name further led me to enquire about my father’s life. I learnt that his father, my grandfather had died when he was very young and after that, he led a difficult life. I have vague memories of my father especially this time he came back from the forest. He took out an object made of bamboo tied to a metal string on both ends, clutched it in between his teeth, and used his fingers to pluck on the string. It made a unique sound and I instantly loved it. He told me it was a Murchunga. I played Murchunga everywhere I went. Those were happy days. Father would bring home fruits and yam from the forest and mother would make pickle. We would eat and sing, dance, and fight.
I remember one day I woke to the loud and disturbing sound of mother wailing. I was too young to understand what happened. The concept of death was based on my innocence and I did not know its harshness. I did not really know that once people died they did not come back. Father did not come back that evening. The year became dark and mother eyes looked like hollow caves. I became sad. Gradually mother started crying less and I started coming of age. And it is hard for me to remember what I did with the Murchunga. I think I just stopped playing. Come to think of it, maybe I lost interest when my mother also left."
“I do not think ill of my mother for leaving us. Maybe she found a man who could solve her problems. Maybe she found new love and new hope. But looking back, those were difficult days for my sister and I. Probably mother leaving home hurt more than father not coming back from the forest. When my mother left, I knew more about humans, their ideas, conspiracies, love, and hate. So it hurt me. I think the villagers had never seen a sadder boy. Now it was just me and my sister at home. We both worked in the fields and tended to the animals. My sister did most of the work but I helped her. Life was difficult. It asked for blood and sweat and we gave. Sister had also managed to send me to the local school. But one day, my sister told me she had to go. She had to leave me because she had found a man who could give her a new and better life. I cried at the thought but my tears did not change anything. Not long after, my sister left. I was alone in the house with the spirits of people who have left and their haunting memories. I was left with a body that was losing weight and sleep. Then one day, I saw a girl. And the moment I saw her I liked her. One day, I called her on a hill and told her my story. Of my father who never returned from the forest, of my mother who left us for a new life, of my love for my sister and her memories. She listened intently. She must have felt sorry for me that she slowly became closer. Soon our fears were the same. We wanted to spend our life together but we knew her father would not agree to the relationship. For him, I was a nobody. We eloped. I brought her back to my village, the villagers welcomed her because they were happy to see that I had found someone. We both worked in the fields and we were able to keep the animals. After two years of our marriage, our first son was born. I was up in the moors. When I heard the news I came running. Seeing my boy was the happiest day of my life. I forgot all my troubles. I knew better days were coming. When we had a daughter we finally felt complete. Ever since I started a family I have lost my fears. We work hard and meet their needs. I have seen what life is about so life does not scare me anymore. I just want them to grow up with their parents by their side. So every time I go away from home, I finish work and return home. To be with them. I do not keep their innocent eyes waiting for long."
Bishnu Tamang, Rigu, Dolakha
#TheFutureIWant
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