In search of a son

 Story: In search of a son

In search of a son


 "I love you!"

 I was shocked.

 She showed the ticket and asked to find a seat.  No. 6 of ‘B’ side by looking at the number.  I asked him to sit on the seat.  Coincidentally, I got his back seat.


 ‘How far am I, Kathmandu?’, I asked.  Although she found out by looking at the ticket, she didn't like the formality. She sat in the car and looked out of the window without answering.


 She has a small kumlo wrapped in a shawl.  The hair is the same.  The mattress is the same.  Gunyu is the same.  The eyes are the same.  Face.


 Face?


 The face looks dry, like a barren field waiting for rain.


 ‘Today I have to go to Kathmandu with me’, what a coincidence! ’, I asked myself,‘ Seats too. ’


 It's been a long time since I've been looking for my son.  Her son went missing shortly after the start of the People's War.


 I know that she is going to Kathmandu again to show persuasion to find her son.  One of the questions that came to my mind was, 'How long will you wait to find a son?'  Will the government ever show his son's life or grave? '


 What happens when a son goes missing, mother's heart!  Even if I don't feel it, I am trying to guess by looking at my face.


 ‘Dabre (right) breast hurts.  I see that Merchhoralai ', when the passenger in the back seat came, she was walking towards the edge of her seat.  Without anyone responding to us, the vehicle drove from Ghorahi to Kathmandu.  His speech began to run along with the rhythm of the car.


 "What are we doing?"  I will make him search for the property ', no matter how much money he has spent, no one asked why he was searching for it,' Why bother to earn money without having a son!  Asbao went on his own. '


 The vehicle stopped at the traffic intersection.  Some passengers climbed.  Some came down to say goodbye to their relatives.  After the car rolled over, he said, "This time, I have come to dig the house."


 Before that, she used to tell me when she sold the hill and when she sold it.  But before that, she used to talk from side to side.  This time  The family has come with a mortgage.


 How many times did she go to Ghorahi-Kathmandu, how much money did she spend in return, will we have an account?


 You may not know how many are left to reach now - police station and army barracks.


 The vehicle reached Chaughera.  Some passengers climbed.  The vehicle carrying the rice to Kathmandu was stopped by Aliber.  The spring heat is not over.


 "What's the point of not living in a hut," she explained.  However, no one has said that they are looking for a son.


 When I went to the coal mine to get salt, I remembered the story of Rolpali.  They lived under a big tree in the shade or in the cold.  After the construction of the road and the hotel, those people living in Hataru would not be able to work.  After leaving the market, Odhar and the shade of the trees became useless.  I remembered those places, my house after my son went missing.


 "This is my son.  Its nine (name) is, Shere.  Rash's nine (real name, zodiac sign) is Sher Bahadur Ho B ', she got her citizenship certificate from Cholo's Goji.  Somewhere, she started showing her son's citizenship to the passenger so that someone might have seen him.  She started asking the passengers sitting in the seats around her, "Did you see it somewhere, yes, my writing?"


 All eyes were on citizenship.  Like taken by a novice photographer.  Even though it is black and white, black and white cannot express their caste openly.


 One could have guessed that the village of Bharbhar was stepping on the house of 17/18.


 I have heard my story many times.  Listening to my words, some even said, 'The old woman's mind is on its way.'  How many times have the bus driver, the passenger and the conductor insulted me?  "Did you meet your son, mother?" Said Ray, laughing. "Ah, I saw Asti here."


 …


 Just rolled.


 ‘Say go to Arabia.  I blew my nose and ears. '


 I also started running in the lake of the bus.  He went to Libang to get a visa in Katmunnu (Kathmandu) and took a passport or whatever.  There is a son of Sarsubari Mukhe near Palnupatti in our village, Dummer Master.  Yes, he was sent to beg to be sent.  And then I also heard that the writer had reached the point of cutting. '


 Suddenly his eyes popped out of the car window.  The passenger's face looked even more uncomfortable because of my words.


 After cutting the bear, the vehicle headed towards the forest.


 "Whether it is dead or alive, I will come and see if it can be found somewhere," she added, wiping her face with her hair.  Didn't Kelly remember when these bullies made other people's children like this or not, what would happen tomorrow if our children were like that too? '


 The passengers of the bus are listening to me.  She is speaking.


 "Merta was still in a dilemma and as she was a bit of a limb, I went to try to get rid of her," she said, remembering her family who had disappeared in the village like her own son.  Hardly, she said, shaking her left hand, "Doesn't she love her children?"


 Her eyes popped out of the window again.  The vehicle stopped at the bridge of Dhankhola.  The reason, the bridge is injured.  During the war, the Maoists used to set up an ambush on this bridge.  It is also broken on the side.


 "I didn't even meet him because he was a leader.  Who is Merta?  Now the property is also Sakkigo ', said Sulpa Basa Kumlo, who had put the car in the place of Koche Koche, covering the opportunity to stop the car.  How many times is it sour now? '


 We don't know if we will be able to come to search again next time.  There is a strange hope in his face that he will be found this time.


 It is said that the army took them away from the bus once while searching for their son.  She has also heard that her son was taken away from the bus.  But the army of which place, do not know.  Arjunkhola, Bhalubang, Chandrauta, Daunne, Thankot, where are they from?  He knows that his son had boarded a bus from Ghorahi to Kathmandu.  And, the army took him by bus.  Then there is no disappearance.


 As people get on and off, I stare at the door of the bus in anticipation of my son.  Suppose his son is going up / down.


 ‘My writing is either Kojani (Kunni)’, says each passenger ascending or descending.


 The bus stopped in the forest after cutting the paddy field.  The passengers got down to urinate.  Some of us and those around him came down, some did not come down.  Her story of stopping by the bus started without stopping.


 "Yes, my right breast hurts," she said, hoping to find a son this time.  My Sherry is unwell! '


 I saw that the lines of hope were unknowingly moving up and down my face.  Have confidence - son will be found, once.  "I am a mother," she said calmly.  Whether he ate or not, I will get it.  He stays with me all the time. '


 Before Khalasi came down to 'enter' Gorusinge, I said again, 'Look.  Is there a sherry? '


 Khalasi came down without returning any answer.  Entered and got into the car.  Stood at the door.  I woke up and saw that my son was coming.  However, only Khalasi was standing at the door of the bus.  Her eyes were fixed on him, just as she had laid her eyes on him.  Suppose his son is entering the car carrying his passport.


 "Yes, this is the mother's heart," she said, standing in front of someone, remembering what had happened. "My son will come one day," she said.  He is neither a Maoist nor a policeman.  Neither the army nor the intelligence. '


 Human rights NGOs / INGOs only focus on the dollar.  The dollar would have flowed to the senior Maoist leaders or to the army / police.

 ..


 "Muri says that even a weevil grinds when it grinds wheat," she said, taking a photo taken by her son in Simla and touching the passenger sitting next to her. "Where is it?"  Even if I get such personal news, I will tell you to get well when you breathe. '


 A colorful photo of Bolla's son right now.  Indian hats, black pajamas and rubber boots.  Ray shot in Simla's studio.  Asking the passenger if he had seen anything, Jatan put the photo on the mattress.


 The vehicle stopped at Bardaghat.  Khalasi went down to enter again.  She asked Khalasi if she could find a son.  The vehicle came to a halt at the forest barracks in Chitwan and stopped.  Two or four armies climbed.  They were in civil dress.  I looked at my own lost son.  But she did not have a son.  The vehicle crashed in the forest of Chitwan.


 "Patha mare ba in a simple fight," I said, looking at Salghari, who was running with the car.


 ‘Ulai ta rasniti / sasniti kyani ni tha’.  It's like eating your own food, 'she said,' it was in its own rhythm.  The Arabian wind touched me as I passed through Kalapar.  He did not belong to the king or the Maoists. '


 The vehicle was speeding on a straight road in the forest.  I kept talking at the same pace.


 "Civilians may also die in battle.  But, why doesn't the government speak? '  But why are the Sher Bahadur still missing? '


 ‘My son is a church in the time of the king.  It is a deception to go to the front of the church and Parchanna (Prachanda) and ask - where is my writing? '


 Reaching Thankot, the vehicle explored the Kathmandu Valley.  My talk was not over.  Even though no one listened, she kept telling herself, her own story.


 ‘How many attacks on me (in the world) like Buddy (old woman)’, she asked herself, ‘now even the tears from her eyes have stopped flowing.  Tears well up in my eyes when I cry!  If it had flowed at once, my tears would have reached the sea, I say. '


 I also heard that Bhairavnath Gana has done six.  I also went to Asti Pali.  I am going again ', she said as soon as she got out of the car at Balaju bus park,' I will go till I die.  See you soon! '


 .  ...


 "I am you!"


 After finishing my work in Kathmandu a week later, when I got in the car to return to Ghorahi, I saw her standing alone at the door of the bus.  In the same way, she stood still with her eyes closed.


 I don't know when these people will come to Kathmandu.  When will they return empty-handed?  How long will the search journey continue?


 The car rolled.  My eyes kept searching for my son by throwing my eyes out of the glass.  Chisa, thirsty, eager eyes to see the son.


 ‘I keep coming until I find a piece of my heart.  Why don't you meet me one day ', my mother's words are running along with the car.

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