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. 

Copyright mediaforfreedom.com

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