"I and my sisters went to school maybe for a few days in a month. The teachers would ask why we were not in school. “We do not have money for books and paper”, we would reply. To be true to reality, it was my mother's suffering that led us to discontinue school. For me, spending time in the classroom had become unbearable. "What is she doing? Is she tired or hurt? Is her back hurting? Is she crying? Did father steal something again? Did he raise his hands or his voice again? Did she eat?” I felt that I should not be in the classroom but with my mother. I could not concentrate therefore, I was poor in the lessons and I could never pass the examinations.
At home, we toiled with my mother. We had to tend to the animals. We had no clothes. We walked just like that. Father never contributed to the household, never brought home food and water. And Mother’s suffering did not bring enough. So if we were to eat we had to work and pasture with Mother. This was all when we were little girls. And as little girls, we cried almost every day. We all would cry with mother. And then, one after the other, we all left school.
We protected Mother from father and she protected us from him. Father never loved. He would come home drunk and sharpen his Khukuris and firewood to hurt us. Mother would hide us in the fields. We would gather around each other and spend the night sleeping in the cold dark of the fields. There were times that I have accepted my fate. I had accepted that there was no future for us. "No future for girls with unruly fathers", I thought. I felt that maybe it was mothers fate and thus it was meant to pass on to us too." There was no place for me to go. There was no place for me to hide."
"The day I left home was the saddest day of my life. I knew that with us leaving one after the other mother would have less and less support. She would have to face father’s wrath all by herself. She had some support when we were around. Bodies to lean on. But I had to go and look for a better life for myself. We sisters keep taking care of mother even from afar. We discuss amongst ourselves about her well being and how we can provide her comfort. And we do. We visit her every time we can. We protect her the best we can.
Now that I am married, things are better for me. But every time I come home, my heart breaks seeing my mother's plight. Sometimes I feel like maybe I should not come, but that would be selfish of me. Father is still the same. He has become weak and has no strength even to fight with my mother. I do not know what is in the poor man’s heart. He could never be for anyone, nor for himself.
Men are different at different places. My husband is a good man. For me, I can find solace in that he does not drink and smoke. He does not show anger to me. He does not shout at me. He has promised me that he is not going to be the reason for unhappiness in the family. He is not like my father. Other men in his family are good. We are happy there. I am happy there. But every time I see someone drinking and causing a problem, I become angry. I become afraid. I see my father in that person. It takes me to all the bad memories I have in my mind. It takes me back to my mother, closer to the wounds she carries in her heart."
(Kavita BiKa, Bhimeswor 2, Dolakha)
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