A real story from my widow friend

A real story from my widow friend

Kamala Budhathoki. Sarup

My friend, who lost her husband recently said "My husband loves me so much. I love him too, so passionately as though life itself comes with it. Since our marriage we didn't even have time to talk fully. He should have stayed at home to farm.  My husband is no more now." . 

"Your husband is said to be in hospital. Get ready. We should leave right away on the 2:00 bus," I had told my friend hurriedly, recentlly.,"  Her mother said with great pain.

The house of my friend was not more than a 15 or 16-minute walk from mine. Though she was the third-born daughter among seven sisters, she was more like the eldest in terms of household work, and in addition she was the most beautiful girl, so all the boys liked her. Of course, there were some rumors about her marriage when I was in the city. A number of people would come daily to her house to persuade her to marry, and her mother would harass others telling their number, counting on her fingers.

" Your husband has come back." After returning from his house, her husband had come straight to see me. He was smartened up with nice clothes and talked with my father of big things about the nation and the world. He had become well-learned, my father had commented. Then we went to the market for the whole day and had tea and talked about his wife.

Really I had no fear of the world. I was thoughtless and free in the world. I was in a passionate hurry to exchange my feelings with him and wished to tell him,  you are the best.

The red nose pin in a case which he gave me, I have kept very carefully in a small box on the floor. Cream powder, hair oil and scent I have kept in the same place. Even to remember those things brings tears to my eyes.

Then, after he started sending letters twice a day, I would wait for the postman every day. I would give him two rupees as a tip to make him happy so he would come first to my house. I used to be greatly pained If I didn't see the postman even for a day, and I used to go and sit under the shade of a tree that leaned over my house, facing south.

"Did your husband send any message?" said  one uncle. Uncle knew me from my childhood so I sensed that he wanted to help me. "Nothing would happen to my friend's husband." I told my uncle with a trembling voice.

I could hardly speak. "OK, now I will hand up the phone. I can't pay the bill any more." He hung up.

"Kamala sister I always see only your face in front of me. I have been so restless to meet you. At all times, I have been living with your love." I repeat his last letter again.

  "Kamala, my husband died. I am homeless, loveless," said the teary-eyed friend.

Many widow women are living a miserable life, are not educated, do not have access to health facilities and free education.  Widow women cannot forget how giving women political power does not mean improvement overall in women's political, economic or social status. 

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Parents Our Valentine.

Parents Our Valentine.     Kamala Budhathoki. Sarup I have learned from my parents, "Love brings only love." Love means to unite the minds, a matter which is wider than the sky and as attractive as the flower. I remember a morning when we smiled, keeping hand in hand. My parents hold the second position in my heart and mind, the first being held by God. My family is true to me. I can't offer them more than my love; that's why I give them the second position in my heart after God. To live in a positive way is my ideology. My mind concentrated on such things and remembered the what my mother said, "Survive for the future." I also told my parents, "We have right to live freely as the white flowers live."  In fact, life is a difficult journey. Sometimes I want to tell the story of the journey of my life, how I longed to fly in the sky in childhood. I wished to be a prestigious and successful woman.  My grandmother especially had wept for many days, begging for her granddaughter's return, though I was making my way wisely and honestly. To choose one from two things life and death I have chosen life and escaped from home carrying a dream to become a good person. I came to US for beauty of life. I remembered my grandfather a lot. Though I thought about my brothers and sisters, I escaped from home. Life means to struggle, and I struggled so that I would never remain unhappy. I have spent many days in success and in transition. I have dreamed about many things in life, a small beautiful home, a struggling life, and a peaceful life. However, I could complete the journey that I started. I was brokenhearted at my uncle's death, I have been broken hearted. I have felt lonely at this age. When I flew parting from near ones and dear ones and the family  what a worrying moment! My mind has started to feel loneliness. I think the moment one parts from family and kin is painful. Such a moment upgrades the importance of family and well wishers. Since, I am in the US, and, US has given me the chance to write many many articles and made me a very strong woman. "We must survive for a happy life," my father said. Nowadays, I weigh myself many times in an unending struggle. My mother told me, "Look up at the sky from the top of the house. Keep watching the sky." I think our relationship is not one of trial and error. I am always ready to fight the battle for love and harmony. I am fighting for that truth. Another name for life is struggle, forgiveness and love. My Valentine's card from my parents read, "We love by heart." It provides quite a different pleasure to read this, coming from my parents. I thank them for such inspiration. Their Valentine's card has shown me the right path in life. Now, sitting here, I am trying to write a Valentine's poem for Valentine's Day. I love my parents for their love, forgiveness and companionship. Copyright mediaforfreedom.com

HIV from her husband

She was an intelligent and emotional individual. Last night, she called me on the phone and said, "I have now learnt to live with HIV". She has declared herself HIV positive and I cried all night.

I remember she told me last year. "Kam, I like an ideal husband, the one who makes a good husband, quiet and loyal".

She was a very beautiful woman. Therefore, the person she should marry is either supposed to be a leading personality that can absolutely take command in her life.

I told her, "I want you to become happy and successful and if there is anything that I could do, I would be happy. Anyway, your trust considering me capable enough of giving suggestions in your personal decisions, this truly means a lot to me". And then we became very good friends.

Last year, I had celebrated her birthday. I told her, "I understand family pressure, especially regarding the wedding issue and your family have their rights to dictate upon you. However, you decide for your life. Therefore, it is your decision whom you will marry."

I further added, "I suggest that you find someone who is willing to accept the way you are."

I know finding love marriage is hard for female in many parts of the world. Once again I know it shouldn't be, but we grew up with this kind of society.

She told me that she wants to see me. I mean after all I know I was her good friend. She was tested positive for HIV in 2006. She did not receive any medical help. I really wanted to help her. She got the HIV from her husband. Her husband did not informed her about the HIV infections prior to their marriage.

I went out the house. I put on my shoes and hurriedly reached the street. I even didn't inform my mother about my departure. Today, I went out hurriedly when my mother was busy to prepare tea and breakfast in the kitchen.

I have to meet her. She is a lady who was born in my city.  She really seems like the moon. Her big almond eyes stroked his heart like an arrow. A real beautiful lady whom there is no need of money to get. Thinking of her, I was lured to her on the way. The betel nut inside her small mouth and the red flower on her plait defeated every beauty in front of her. I am proud of her. While enjoying friendship with her, I do not wish even to imagine my other friends. Scented oil on her hair and expensive scent on her dress always make her look like a bride .

When I was pushing myself through a busy street, an office co-worker, disturbed me. I escaped.

I told myself my life would be incomplete in the absence of her friendship. I was eager to meet her. I have forgotten my family at this time. I wished to pass the whole day with her. I kept my way to her. I had drawn my salary the day before. I had some money to buy oil. I decided to buy scent for her. I would like to buy her a lot of things at a time but my income does not allow me to do so.

If I had a lot of money , I would take out her from the rented house and build a beautiful house of her own. I would buy a small motor bike for her pleasure. I would buy all the up to date and fashionable clothes for her. My heart filled with the love and tears for her. I was fully sunk into the depth of her life. I went to market and bought a bottle of scent for her. I wanted to keep her happy. The people on the way seemed to disturb me. The way to her house was quite long today. I was eager to meet her.

When I neared to the room of her, I fixed my hair style and dress unconsciously. After a while, the door was opened. It was her husband standing at the door. Her husband welcomed me. My eyes were searching for my friend . "Where is my friend?" I asked.

He said, "She has disappeared since last night. Either she died or returned back to her mom's house. I informed the police. I searched for her everywhere but she is nowhere," he said.

I couldn't decide what to do. I remained standing with scent bottle, looking at her selfish husband.

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Writer, Freedom And Literature

Writer, Freedom And Literature

By Kamala Budhathoki. Sarup

The world's picture has changed after first and second world war. After 9/11 incident the world witnessed yet another holocaust of terror. This has a definite impact in man's mind. Time has not been moving with certain direction. The aimless movement of time has made man's future more uncertain. The question of peace, freedom and security is a big question mark before us. With Nietzsche's diclaration of the death of god, the world is left alone without any saviour. In such a crucial time of mental crisis I have searched God within human and declared a new god.

Literature is an endeavour of searching the space of sentiment and feeling. The feeling and sentiment connects one person with another. Science and technology can never and in no age can ignore the feeling and sensibility of the creator. The  science and technology can never challenge this truth of a creation. In this age of science too, Milton is known as England, Homer is known as Greece, Vergil is known as Rome, Frost is known as America, Bhanubhakta is known as Nepal, Ravindra Nath Tagor is known in India. A writer writes simply because he can create emotion, sentiment and feeling in his creation. Poet Gopal Parajuli said "In my book of 'Naya Ishwarko Ghoshana' the god is personified to man. My assumption is that the man with the power of divinity can lead the world and can play the role as god, and at the same time can protect the universe with His greatness and strength. I have projected this new thing in my book. This very fact perhaps might have provided this opportunity". 

I reject theoretical concept in literature. As an experimental writer I want to explore new things in my literary work. I like to present new things as time dictates and demands. To achieve my goal I have developed my philosophy in writing through which I go with my writer. To observe life and the world through literature and to explore peace, happiness and pleasure for mankind and to explore oneself from there is my philosophy. The main aim of my life is to seek peace, pleasure and happiness for mankind.

Many words have lost their meanings and the meaning of truth has been changed. This has compelled human to seek meaning in each step of their lives. For us the only quest is about the truth. Even in writings that I have gone through, I found the same thing. Hence, it is due to the truth I am maintaining my linkage with western writing.

"After the Nietzsche's declaration of the death of god, the world is left alone without a humane leader. The world after the declaration, is going ahead randomly, almost lawlessly and in disorderly way.To set the world in order, and to restore peace harmony and happiness a dynamic leader's arrival is necessary in the world. At such a time, I have challenged Nietzsche, and declared a new god within man. Thus, challenging Nietzsche, I am going a step forward establishing avant-garde trend in my writing". he said.

This is the age of globalization. As a pioneering magazine of language and literary and cultural studies, writers who have assimilated themselves in the flow of writing. Some of the writers have touched upon the arena of postmodernism and have brought postmodern trend in their writing crossing the boarder of modernism.  The feeling, emotion and sentiment of man never dies. These are the elements of spirit. Human lives in feeling, emotion and sentiment before and after death. The feeling of spirit after death makes a human positive towards life.

The world goes on creating newer things. Literature is a creation, not theory. The law of nature is to create new things. To neglect creation is to go against nature. In literature a writer goes with an experiment in thought, subject, language, style and so on. Every creator should create new things in a way understandable to the readers whose nature of perceiving things and level of cognition changes in accordance with several social facets. Every creativechange brings happiness to man. My writer is committed to renovate old values and construct new values in accordance with the changing time. In our view we have to satisfied with our work to come up with new conception and vision. In every creation, we need to prefer to experiment in terms of using new thought, subject, language, style and other associated aspects.

I am positive towards life, so towards spirit. Some people may argue that literary creation as an outcome of continual endeavour. Creation is essentially an outcome of inherent ingenuity. The living creation cannot be created by an endeavour. Inherent ingenuity is the must. A writer is born not made. The opinions and ideas of others should be regarded.

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True Story of a Courageous Couple

True Story of a Courageous Couple

Kamala Budhathoki Sarup

Published in UPI Asia,Blog.

"Did you hear? your friends are married, the last night," informed my friend. When I heard this news, I felt happy.

I remembered how he told me last month, "I can be proud only if I get a chance to marry your friend." He spoke as he lit a cigarette, sitting on the balcony that evening. "You're in a big city. Will she save her youth for you there in her town, while you get old,?" I asked satirically.

Ignoring my words, he turned south and looked out of the corner of his eyes, saying at length, "She is a woman like a flower. 'A son of a brave man either should do or die,' She would say. I came to here swearing my love for her. Sometimes I become sad, because the image of her comes to my mind day and night."

He finished his pack of cigarettes and creased his forehead. He was the most candid person in our City, so it could also be said that he had no enemies.

Despite being exhausted, he would wake up early every morning before the cock crowed, but that day he seemed to be in a cheerless mood. I teased him, "Why are you worried? Soon you will take your leave of twenty-five days, go to the town and get married there. The more you worry, the thinner you become, so you should spend your days cheerfully, to keep from looking old." He was like a brother to me. "One needs to have patience in love," said our friend Chand, abstractedly, while sitting beside us sipping tea. He said, "I am ready to wait even my whole life for her. If anyone even says the name 'her,' I blank out."

After speaking these words, he left us and went to his room. We guessed he hadn't enjoyed our joking manner, which had made his heart ache bitterly. Last year, Her mother had told me, "If  your friend gets
married to someone of her own choice, my husband has sworn by the water that he would not look at her face again." I had responded, "Whoever my friend desires to get married with, we should let her."  Her mother disagreed with my view.  

At the time of my departure from totown, my friend had said to me, "If he changes his mind, I will hang myself." I had told her, "One needs to have faith in love. Otherwise the meaning of love becomes
like pouring water in the sand. He, who was standing beside me, had said to her. "Don't worry,  I'm with you".

Every evening, he would talk about quitting his job and going to town. "How will you bring her after quitting your job? You should not get frustrated in this way." I did not know how he would react to the advice I gave him.

"If my mother does not let me marry her, I will catch a bus coming straight back to city. I bought a return ticket too," He told me, showing me the ticket. I had scolded him, saying, "Hey brother, how dare you buy a ticket without letting me know first? You should have talked to me if you were planning on going! If you do as you
please, then I can do nothing." At that point, he had left my house without speaking a word to me.

Much later, an early morning phone call from her had woken me up from sleep, "It has been five days since your friend promised to return, but there is no sign of him. Do you think he married me?" I sensed that he had not informed my friend that he was coming late because of his wedding.

Weeks before, he had boasted to me, "I have bought four pair of  shirts, wrist rings, powder, a hair ribbon and scented hair oil for her. How do you think she will look with these cosmetics? The day after tomorrow, before the cock crows, I will leave for the town."

So, when my friend told me over the phone, "they both disappeared  last night, Kamala" I had nearly fainted and could hardly speak. He went on, "They both are married. Maybe they are already in your city, we don't know."  I feel lonely without them.

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Early Marriages Are Bad Practice

 Early Marriages Are Bad Practice

  Kamala Budhathoki. Sarup

Published in  Cape May County Herald.

Today, many countries have declared 18 as the legal minimum age for marriage, while these laws may exist on paper only. We should remember that high levels of early marriages have led to a rise in maternal and infant mortality throughout the world. Early marriage has always been an important issue throughout women’s history.

Early marriage is one of the worst things against girls and children. Early marriage can have several harmful effects on the overall wellbeing of a young girl, or child, who is not mentally, psychologically, emotionally or physically prepared for a conjugal life. In many countries, men retain far greater power than women.

There is recognition that women lack power in the decision-making process. According to United Nations Population Fund, “Between 2011 and 2020, more than 140 million girls will become child brides. If current levels of child marriages hold, 14.2 million girls annually, or 39,000 daily, will marry too young. Furthermore, of the 140 million girls who will marry before the age of 18, 50 million will be under the age of 15.”

UNICEF estimates stillbirths and newborn deaths are 50 percent higher among mothers under the age of 20 than in women who get pregnant in their 20s. According to the UN, "Of 16 million adolescent girls who give birth every year, about 90 per cent are already married." As shown by these statistics, marriage at an early age is still a common practice in many countries.

We must remember each society has special characteristics that make it desirable for specific rights for our children and girls. It damages girls’ economic rights. For the same reason, most girls have early pregnancies. As a result, child marriage became a more dangerous practice because of early sexual relationship and lower responsibility, mortality (deaths) increased.  Emphasis should, therefore, be laid on launching awareness campaigns in those areas where this practice is common. "The tradition of marrying off daughters as young as 6 is still common," reports the U.N. Population Fund. 

"Child marriage is an appalling violation of human rights and robs girls of their education, health and long-term prospects," stated Babatunde Osotimehin, M.D, executive director, UNFPA. Early marriage also has destroyed our values. In a child’s life, education, training, and good health services are important, but child marriage is a major rights violation.

Greater investments in education and employment for girls and children are some of the much-needed interventions to encourage later marriage. Not only should all women have a choice in the decision making process of marriage, but they must have the right to express their sexuality without risk of disease or discrimination.

As played out in many rural areas, women in the developing world attain status only through marriage and producing as many children as possible, preferably, sons. Girls and women should have a say in the decision-making process of marriage. 

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How a Woman Can Fight All Alone

How a Woman Can Fight All Alone

Published in Cape May County Herald.   Kamala Budhathoki Sarup http://www.capemaycountyherald.com/article/100818-how+woman+can+fight+all+alone  I did not see much of the ups and downs in my friend's life. By the time I came to know her, her life was much more settled. But when my mother ever had to give an example of an ideal woman, she would refer to her. What I have gathered about my friend from my mother would almost make a complete picture of her life. When she was 15 or 16, she married. She was barely 20 by the time she had given birth to three sons. Her husband was known for his greed, while his son was stupid and dissolute.  She adjusted to her new environments as a good homemaker, performing all the duties that her in-laws assigned although she had to deal with her troublesome husband. In a fit of sentiment, her husband brought home another woman. Even then, she bore the pain well. Finally, she and her three sons moved out of the house and came to live in our area. She had neither a house to live nor any means of subsistence for her family. She only had one gold ring given by her parents and no property nor cash. She began her new life by renting a room on the ground floor of our house and paid the rent by selling her ring. In the morning, she sold vegetables; in the afternoon, she washed neighbors' clothes; and in the evenings, she prepared lamp wicks based on orders she received. It was by doing these common jobs that she managed to meet ends. Her busy schedule would start early in the morning and continue until midnight. Despite her hard labor, no one ever saw her looking sad. She always smiled. People doing the same kind of work that she did noticed that her good behavior, trustworthiness and frank dealings were increasing her business. This made them jealous and soon they began spreading rumors that she was immoral. Later they began to malign her character and plotted to drive her from the area.  Some men in the area were hinted at being her secret lovers. Even though people did not want her to stay, my mother took a strong stand on her behalf and in the end she stayed. With time, her sons grew up and the room became too small for them. So, she finally moved out. All of her sons grew up to be quite talented young men. Perhaps, the sad plight of their mother, the pitiable conditions in which they grew and the need for a happy future that their mother toiled, motivated them. At age 25, the eldest son became an officer, changing her life forever. She never dreamt that she would have her own house, but the unimagined became a reality. Through the collective effort of her sons, a house was built. Thus began the happy days for her. My mother always invited her on social occasions and family gatherings. Sometimes, we also visited them. Soon, she became a part of our city. She was an example of how a woman can fight all alone, struggling against all odds yet able to provide a stable future for her children. I think she needs the goodwill and company of those who cherished her friendship. To feel close to someone, one does not need any blood relationship. The mind and sentiments are enough to shower love and affection. Today, I am accompanying my mother to her house. There is no particular reason for me to go. But, I still want to go and show my love, respect and affection. Copyright mediaforfreedom.com

Human Trafficking: Story of My Friend

Human Trafficking: Story of My Friend

Published on Cape May County Herald.

Source: http://www.capemaycountyherald.com/article/99322-human+trafficking+story+my+friend

 By Kamala  Sarup

My friend, who used to work in a brothel, told me her story:

“This large city of brothels is terrifying to look at, with its tall buildings. It felt as if everyone who lived inside was satisfied as they quenched their hunger. I don't like even to remember. Due to the necessity to sell my body every evening, there was always within me an unknown fear of terror or fright, creating an empire of its own. I felt restless about how I made my living; I was disgusted at every moment with that kind of life.

“The notorious brothel where I was living was a place where thousands of girls like me had to sell their bodies for cheap prices. Alas! How hard and full of terror it was to live in that environment! When I think of it, my heart trembles, even today. Although the pain within me had another chief reason and that was the memory that never left me.

“I almost always remembered my village: the mountains, the waterfalls and the forests that extended far and wide looked as hard as life itself; whether uphill or downhill, they were filled with crowds. “When I went to the market with my mother, we had to cross through dangerous, wild forests. My mother had a dream exactly like mine, which her daughter would get some education by going to the city and would be able to stand on her own to make her living. But I was brought to this terrible brothel, sold by my own uncle's son. I was sold for just 20,000 rupees.

“In a place where human vultures spend money for foul play with raw flesh and where one’s prestige was ruined for just a handful of coins, how could I survive? My heart was filled with depression and anguish, but I was unable to express any of my feelings to anyone, because the trade of female bodies was found everywhere, from large lodges to hotels to the yellow mansions of that city. In that place where girls were bargained for everyday, selling them and turning them into prostitutes by force and then inflicting untold tortures on them were just common incidents. Sexually depraved rich men quenched their thirsts with me everyday.

" She was obviously scared as she told me her story. Crying, she said, "It was a great joke that my rights over my own body were snatched away from me. Questions often tormented me from time to time. After all, what did it really mean for a person to live as a woman? Did I exist just for providing cheap enjoyment that others could have by paying money? My hatred of my existence as a woman came out in the form of thousands of such questions. What a pity! 

My body was torn and snatched by hundreds everyday. Every time I saw the mistresses of the brothels around me, I felt an inferiority complex. All the men who came were hungry to fulfill their sexual passion. I felt a strong hatred towards men. But despite that fact, I had to sell my body. 

My life, in fact, was quite terrible as I had to live 24 hours a day surrounded by agents and customers. At the gates of every building, there were agents busy haggling for our bodies as if we were beasts up for auction. And we waited for the customers inside a very dark and foul-smelling room. 

Who was there to love me in that world of money? Everywhere, there was alcohol, money and only customers. At that time, I was completely robbed. The value of my body and my soul was completely depleted. And now, I have returned to my own country with the germs of HIV within me, after serving at that brothel for so many years. I have become empty now. Coming back here, I have come back with an empty mind and carrying a terrible disease."

I asked her a lot of questions, only some of which she could answer. I came close to her and sat down. "I have arranged a job for you in an office. You must forget your past," I told her everything in one breath. 

She cried in response and said, "My past was filled with such torture that, even if the criminals received capital punishment, it would not heal my wounds or erase the stain upon my character.” 

Kamala Sarup, who writes from Rio Grande, once organized a program on HIV/AIDS and trafficking in Dhulikhel, Sindhupalchok District and Chitawan in Nepal. “Many women in Asia are among the most vulnerable to trafficking,” said Sarup. “Only limited attempts have been made to combat the problem. Lack of commitment and policy implementation pose obstacles in solving the crisis. Education and awareness are the two powerful instruments that can check the spread of the problems.”

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