2018’s Thanksgiving Day

This is 2018’s Thanksgiving Day. I’m thinking all the way back when we started celebrating Thanksgiving days with our children in Canada. I’m remembering how I used to decorate our front porch with fall flowers and dry branches, the lineup pumpkins, the colourful writhe, the big flowerpots with hanging geraniums and tall grass in front of our house. I enjoy the flashback of our children enjoying and decorating our formal dining table. These are the things of the past, but I’ve cherished them all in my memories!


Yesterday we invited a few families with their little girls. I cooked variety of food for grownups and ordered pizza and cake for the girls. My husband was anxious about how the new people will behave and how we’ll manage to enjoy the party. But it turned out a fun-filled evening for all of us! We went to bed being thankful to God.


This morning I took a leisurely walk, enjoying the marvellous colours of the fall and the wilderness in our neighbourhood. Feeling grateful and thanking God that there is nothing like nature. No invention, no technology, no human or any living being can replicate what nature is able to create!

There are many things I wished I knew when I was growing up. For example, if I knew how important public relations and networking are for our mental, financial and public life, I wouldn’t have burned my bridge.


With all my ignorance, I’m still proud of my decision to marry the man I did, have the children I’ve and for my courage to go back to school. Yes, there are nights I can’t sleep thinking about my children’s futures. Yes, I curse my family middle of some nights/evenings and in between my prayers. But it’s life. Comparing to the alternatives I would have if I wasn’t married or not have children, this is a much better life I’m living. 

Reclaiming my life

My husband had been telling me “Take time to walk”. “If you don’t have health, there is nothing you can enjoy”. Walking is good, I knew, but I was busy with things—sometimes I had to finish a book or blogpost/book chapter, other times I had to finish cleaning my house. Sometimes I had to be somewhere for someone, and other times I had to be somewhere for myself. For one thing or other, I’d not been able resume my walk everyday.


Then, I lost the ‘small’ of my back while trying to pickup a piece of pepper from the flour. A sharp pain suddenly surged throughout my back and I knew I had slipped one or more of my discs, causing pressure on my spinal cord and nervous system.


With God’s grace I eventually recovered my back, but I didn’t forget the pain! The pain stayed with me whole day, reminding me how fragile our life really is, and I determined to walk every morning as long as I live once I recovered from the injury.


Yesterday I walked on the pathway that connects a small neighbourhood to the middle school, where two of our children attended, in my community. While passing through the pathway I noticed a fairly large patch of wild peas. I’d noticed this patch many times during our walks in the fall, and tried taking picture many times, but my husband discouraged me, laughing and telling me how a small thing can distract me from a Big thing at hand! This morning I was alone, and I had my cellphone with me.

             

Patches of Kootooli Kosha plant with their drying our pods

The patch of springing plants above are called “Kootooli Kosha” in Nepal. Kootooli Kosha are the tiny peas in pods. They taste similar to the "small" peas grown and sell in Nepal, but these peas are a bit stronger and they're lightly bitter. They come in deep-green and slightly yellois--mung bean colour . They are wild peas, grows along the pathway in the wilderness in Nepal. Since this variety is not available in North America most people may not know about this type of peas.


As children, my friends and I used to pull a few springs of kootooli kosha on our way to school or back to home. There was never enough kootooli kosha to fill our stomach, but it was fun to chew on while walking with friends leisurely.



Although this patch above is drying out along with the pods of the kootooli kosha, this patch brought back some of my fun memories with my friends, and reminded other patches of kootooli koshas in my parents’ fields. It was a reminder of how a small thing like nibbling on the humble grain with my family members and friends can be a life-time memory!

The Mind-thing

This is a story about an elderly lady and her family. Her name is Komal. Komal means soft or gentle in Sanskrit.


Komal grew up in a cultured family. Her parents were educated people and their conscience was clear. They taught her what is “right” and what is “wrong” from the beginning. With her gentle nature and conscientious mind, she could do no wrong to anyone!


She got married with an elite man who is also considerate to others. Together they have four children. Komal stayed home and raised her children as best as she could.


The world has changed since Komal's children rearing days. Unlike her time, now the married women keep their career even after marrying and having children. Both husband and wife equally share all responsibilities, household chores and rearing children. All this means independence and financial freedom for today’s ladies!


Now old and vulnerable, Komal remembers how crazy her days used to be when her husband was building his career and their children were growing up. Buried with responsibilities, her husband always seemed tensed. He expected their house be in order and their children disciplined. He wanted his children to be seen, but not heard, just the way his father wanted when he was growing up.


With age and experience, Komal's husband has changed. Now he believes children should be able to interact with their parents freely. He tells, “Mind is everything”. “You can do anything you like with your mind,” to other children. He gives example of persons who’ve changed the world phenomenally by properly channeling their mind.


Komal knows her husband is doing the right thing. Guiding young people based on past experiences of what works what doesn't is the duty of her and her husband. But her heart aches every time her husband boosts other children’s self-confidence. Her chest tightens every time her husband gives good advise to other children and she becomes emotionally tensed suddenly.

Settling down slowly

My life had been all over the places: at friends’ homes, beaches, parks, weddings and other celebrations. Sometimes a bit hectic, but they were all fun activities. They legitimized my living!


Then we moved back to a new rental place that required some planning and physical works. My husband started teaching and I started inviting friends and relatives, as usual. So, we’re more or less settled in this place.


Yesterday, I called one of our dear old friends, and I took her for lunch. She was happy, and we talked for hours about her family and mine.



I’ve called a few other “new” friends for dinner this weekend. After this, I need to make 3 more parties to complete my self-imposed obligations. Giving rides to a few people who can’t drive/need help will always be there, but that proves I’m alive and still functional!

लालटीनको उज्यालोमा, A Book Review

Saraswoti Gyawali’s "लालटीनको उज्यालोमा" is a book you would want to read if you want to know how the Maoist in Nepal were able to win the hearts of the public and won the war in 2006.


Saraswoti is the wife of the current Minister of Foreign Affairs for Nepal. However, both, her husband, Mr. Pradip Kumar Gyawali, and Saraswoti were the former Comrade of Nepal’s Maoist party. The couple has three grownup children.

लालटीनको उज्यालोमा depicts the prehistory era of the Maoist party in Nepal. Built based on the ideologies of Karl Marx and Mao Zedong, the Maoist terrorized the royals, the oppressors and the capitalists in Nepal. In one incidence, for example, Saraswoti and her team humiliated one such oppressor in the public for selling the village girls for money. The incidence occurred in Ardhakhachhi district of Nepal. For her crimes the oppressor's face was painted black and she was forced to wear a garland of shoes around her neck!.

The Maoist's victory was short lived, however. Their government lasted less than a year and the country fell into the hands of a coalition government, followed by a national election after a year.

Yes, the Maoist were able to drive the royals out of the power, but it came at the cost of 13,000 lives and more than that many youth left the country as migrant workers for oversees. Thus, Saraswoti's satisfactions for being able bring some positive changes in the country during the insurgencies outweighed by the loss Nepal incurred.


The Moist party in Nepal also violated the fundamental principles of communism: "Property rights and Redistribution of property by occupying more private properties than any other governing party in the county had ever done!


I left Nepal when the Maoist were working underground as rebels. Their activities were not known to general public like myself. But I did share some of their nationalist sentiments! To be honest, however, neither the rebels nor I knew the true meaning of Maoism, then. We had no real awareness of what Mao or Marx were really like. We only knew their unrealistic ideologies.


Whatever the Maoist understood at the time of revolution and however they managed to get rid of the monarchs, what is happening in the country is not what they had envisaged initially!


Writing that, however, I find Saraswoti's book heroic, and I respect the couple for who they are, more than what they have done for Nepal.

Intuitive or not, a wife/mother's job is never done!

I’m not feeling myself this evening and suggested my husband that we go out for dinner. He asked me why, and before I could reply to his question he said "I would like to eat at home as much as possible since I'm leaving home in two days". His "at home," meant he would like to eat the meal I cook. I couldn’t say anything, except felt like crying!

So, I cooked something simple, feed and washed the dishes. Then I was laying down in my sofa, trying to take a nap.

About half an hour later, one of our daughters came home. She went to the kitchen and told me that she’s going to have some of my food. I felt like crying the second time!

Then, suddenly my mother came to my mind. She was a small framed woman, who was full of energy, wit and courage. She worked 18 hours a day to keep her over 18 ropani lands (at different locations), biggest house in the neighbourhood, six school-children and a very demanding —rather conceited husband. That was not enough of for her, she suggested her husband that they should buy a “mauja” in Chitawan. It was a prestige to own a piece of rice-field in another province then, as some of her colleagues and relatives had done so.

A tiny woman with no formal education, no dowry and more than a handful husband, how did she managed to have them all? That question kept coming in my mind for years.

My mother was very creative and highly intuitive person. She made decisions instantly and took risks when needed. She went out of her way to help others, and never complained about her situations.

She worshipped Gods and Goddesses but believed that we can bring “luck” onto ourselves—not through prayers or pleasing gods and goddesses with sweets and fruits. She was that wise!

I didn’t write this story to show off how rich my parents were. I’m writing this to share how Intuitively Intelligent my mother was and regret that I couldn’t recognized her bornin talents. I thought how can she know what she was talking about; she never went to school!

I also hadn't realized that there must have been some days when my mother was tired and cried alone, when we, her children and husband, were not around. After all, she was a proud woman and never let anyone see her vulnerability!

My dear mother, I do hope you're in heaven living in peace with everything you ever wanted around you!

Our coffee world

Representing a small world of its own, this has been our first cup of coffee-place for at least half the year. Here we find a transvestite, sitting on one of the sofas in one of the corners of the room. Across from this person sits an elderly lady on another set of sofas. Without exchanging a word, these people sit there each day, for hours at a time.  

The transvestite person—or so we heard one day—completely covers her/his head with a oversized hat. S/he wears a loose leather jacket and a scarf wraps around the neck. S/he is there when we enter the room each day and stays there when we leave. Sometimes s/he moves one or two locations within the room and makes two or three trips to move her/his two or three hand bags.

“A man becoming a woman?" "Yeah, a man can become a woman, ney…”  a wired elderly man blurted one day that grabbed our attention to the transvestite. We watched the weird man pursuing the transvestite from the distance. The man thought he was pursuing a lady, we guessed.

The elderly man had his own characters. We never saw him purchasing anything from the restaurant. He was tall and queer-looking! He walked around with a cellphone on his hand. His large jacket unzipped, and his hands spread wide. He reminded us of a hawk going after his prey. Fortunately, he left after a short quarrel between him and the transvestite.

There is also a mentally-ill person. This poor guy doesn’t know how odd it is for someone to watch him rolling up his sleeves just to drink a cup of coffee/tea. He sometimes smiles and talks to himself. Other times looks outside through the glass-windows and walks around the room.  We don’t know who he is or what his past was, but to see a young person going through this ritual makes my husband and I very sad!

There are also other people in this room, whom we meet and greet some days. Some of them are young, and others are elderlies. Some come here with their coffee-craze and others for breakfast.  There are also a few ‘lovers’ who come to take their chances to sleep on each-other’s arms or laps!

Our coffee world makes us feel lucky and at the same time very vulnerable to mental disorders!