A Tale of Love, Life, and Lasting Memories

Mornings in the mountains usually dawn with the sun. As the first ray of sunlight begins to appear on the mountaintop, the village houses also start to wake up one after another. Dewdrops from the night glisten on the leaves of the small plants standing on the terraced fields. Somewhere a cowshed door opens, somewhere a fire is lit in the hearth. Thin lines of smoke slowly rise above the roofs of the houses. The morning sun used to come to Bal Bahadur's house in the same way. He would wake up before others. He would sweep the courtyard, open the cowshed, and feed the cow. He would give the dog a little salt mixed with rice gruel. He was not in a hurry with these tasks that had been going on in the same sequence for years. Manmaya also knew his habits. If Bal Bahadur went towards the cowshed, she would make tea for him. On the days he went to see the upper field, Manmaya would put roasted corn in a small box for him to eat on the way. Bal Bahadur would pretend not to see it, but would look for the box when it wasn't found. 'Are you keeping corn today too?' 'If you don't keep it, you'll return hungry.' 'Will I return hungry?' 'You worry more about the field than your stomach.' Bal Bahadur would smile. Manmaya would also smile faintly. Their days were passing like this. They had become old, but the habit of encouraging each other in their work had not left them. If Manmaya tried to chop firewood, Bal Bahadur would snatch the axe. 'You sit. I'll do this.' 'Are you going to do all the work?' 'Haven't you worked less your whole life? We are still doing it.' Manmaya would say nothing after that. She would sit by the firewood and watch him quietly. Sometimes Bal Bahadur would know that Manmaya's knee was hurting. He wouldn't ask. He would heat water in the morning and keep it near the door. Manmaya also knew that Bal Bahadur's back was hurting. Before going to sleep at night, she would keep a hot water bottle by his bed. 'Nothing is wrong with me,' Bal Bahadur would say. 'I know.' 'Then why did you keep the water?' 'So that you don't have to say 'it hurts' again tomorrow morning.' After saying this, she would go to her bed. Bal Bahadur would sit for a while, touching the bottle with his hand. After living together for years, love is recognized more by habits than by words. Manmaya also knew Bal Bahadur's gait, cough, and the sound of his footsteps. That morning, while drinking tea, Manmaya looked outside. 'Are you going to the upper field today?' 'Yes. It rained yesterday.' 'The dam must have broken?' 'We have to see.' Manmaya added a little tea to his glass. 'It's cold.' Bal Bahadur said, holding the glass, 'You also wear a blanket.' 'I don't feel cold.' 'Nothing ever affects you.' Manmaya laughed. That laugh was not very loud. But Bal Bahadur listened to it and looked at Manmaya for a moment before bringing the glass to his lips. Their lives were filled with such small things. There was a large Sal wood log in one corner of the courtyard. It had been there for years. The bark had peeled off due to sun and rain. It was cracked in places. Even three or four people together could not move it easily. Sometimes Manmaya would look at it and say, 'We'll have to remove this now.' Bal Bahadur would say the same thing every time—'Not now.' That morning too, he looked at the log. Manmaya didn't ask anything. She knew that when Bal Bahadur said 'Not now,' there was always an old reason behind it. And she couldn't bring herself to ask the reason for keeping that Sal wood log. Bal Bahadur and Manmaya had no children other than Navraj. When Navraj was young, he would play in this courtyard all day. Sometimes he would chase the cow's tail, sometimes he would climb the terraced fields and call his mother. When Bal Bahadur returned from work, he would run to the roadside. 'Baba, what did you bring?' 'What to bring? I'm too old to carry you.' Navraj would laugh and hold his hand. Time passed. Navraj's hands became bigger than Bal Bahadur's. His shoulders broadened. After finishing his studies, the question of what to do by staying in the village stood before him. Meanwhile, he also got married. Sandhya was from a neighboring district. After marriage, she also stayed in this house for some time. She worked in the kitchen with Manmaya. She would wake up in the morning and sweep the courtyard. She would go to the fields with Bal Bahadur. In the beginning, the village paths and terraced fields seemed unfamiliar to her. In a short time, those paths started to feel like her own. But Navraj's mind wanted to go beyond the village. The idea of going abroad arose. Bal Bahadur didn't say much. 'If you want to go, then go,' he said, 'but people who go to earn should not forget their home.' Navraj took that lightly at the time. A few months later, he went abroad with Sandhya. After that, the phone calls from home increased. Sometimes early in the morning, sometimes late at night. 'Mom, we are fine,' Navraj would say. Manmaya would keep the phone to her ear. Bal Bahadur would sit a little further away and listen to their conversation. More than the fact that his son was abroad, he seemed satisfied that his voice was heard inside the house. Time moved forward. One day Navraj said on the phone, 'Mom, you are going to be a grandmother.' Manmaya couldn't speak for a while. 'Daughter,' Navraj said, 'we named her Anuja.' Manmaya wiped her eyes with the corner of her sari. Bal Bahadur asked, 'What happened?' Manmaya said with a smile, 'We are having a granddaughter.' Bal Bahadur said nothing. He got up and went to the courtyard. He stood near that big Sal wood log for a while. Then he looked towards the slope. After many years, his face shone like a child's. Manmaya would look at her granddaughter's photo on her mobile and repeatedly touch the face with her finger. 'How is she?' Bal Bahadur asked. 'Exactly like your nose.' 'My nose?' 'Yes. Look.' Bal Bahadur took the mobile in his hand. The photo showed a small face, squinting eyes, and closed lips. He didn't speak for a long time. 'What did they name her?' 'Anuja.' 'It's a nice name.' From that day on, Anuja started coming into their conversations. While drinking tea in the morning, Manmaya would say, 'Shall we call Anuja today?' After dinner in the evening, Bal Bahadur would ask, 'Didn't Navraj send a photo?' Abroad was far away. The phone seemed to shorten the distance, but the desire to place his hand on his granddaughter's forehead could not be fulfilled by phone. A few months later, Navraj and Sandhya came to Nepal. They had brought Anuja with them. On the day the little child's footsteps fell in the courtyard, Manmaya had cleaned the house since morning. Bal Bahadur had returned early after feeding the cow in the cowshed. When Anuja arrived in the courtyard, he stood and watched from a distance for a while. 'Father,' Navraj called, 'take your granddaughter.' Bal Bahadur extended his hand. When Anuja came into his lap, he touched her cheek. The granddaughter grabbed his white beard and pulled it. Manmaya burst into laughter. 'Does it hurt?' 'It doesn't hurt. Pulling it makes the beard stronger.' After that, Anuja's voice was also added to their house. She would crawl in the courtyard, and later slowly start to run. She would reach the Sal wood log and place her hand on it. Bal Bahadur would immediately call out. 'Don't go there, okay?' 'Why?' 'It's slippery. You'll fall.' Anuja would turn and come into his lap. Time passed. As the day Navraj and Sandhya were to return approached, Manmaya's face started to look sad again. She didn't find it easy to leave Anuja. One evening, Navraj discussed the matter with his parents. 'Now you both have to come abroad with us.' Bal Bahadur looked at his son. Manmaya was quietly folding Anuja's clothes. 'Us?' Bal Bahadur asked again. 'Yes, both of you. All facilities are available there. You won't have to work hard.' Bal Bahadur looked at the courtyard. The sun was slowly setting over the Sal wood log. He did not reply immediately. 000 000 000 'What will we do after going, son?' 'You will live with us. Why live alone here?' 'We are not alone,' Manmaya said, looking at the courtyard. Navraj couldn't understand his mother's words. 'Mom, I didn't mean that. You are also getting old. When you are with us, you will be well taken care of.' Bal Bahadur was listening to his son. He looked at the dog sitting on the edge of the courtyard. It was following Anuja. Anuja was calling it. 'Grandma, what is this dog's name?' 'Kalu.' 'Kalu is my friend.' Manmaya smiled. Navraj picked up the conversation again. 'Father, we have thought a lot about this. We are earning well now. It's better to go with us than to stay at home.' Bal Bahadur took a deep breath. 'Just because the earning is good doesn't mean everything is money, son.' 'I know that. But seeing you work hard, my heart doesn't accept it.' 'Hard work?' Bal Bahadur said with a slight smile, 'Have we only worked hard?' He looked towards the slope. 'See that lower field? Your mother spent so many years on it. The plants in the courtyard were planted by us when you were young. How can we leave them now?' Navraj was silent for a while. 'All arrangements will be made there, Father.' 'Arrangements will be made, perhaps.' This time Bal Bahadur looked at Manmaya. 'But it won't be like our own place.' Manmaya said nothing. Looking at the log at the side of the courtyard, she started folding Anuja's clothes again. That evening, Navraj persuaded them a lot. Sandhya also expressed her desire to keep her parents with them abroad. But Bal Bahadur's answer remained the same. 'You walk well on your path. Let us walk on our path.' Anuja, however, didn't understand anything. She was trying to climb on the Sal wood log. 'Grandfather!' Bal Bahadur immediately held her hand. 'Carefully, child.' Anuja held his hand. After holding that small hand, Bal Bahadur didn't let go for a while. After Navraj and Sandhya left, the house became the same again. In the morning, the bell of the cow in the cowshed would ring, Kalu would roam in the courtyard, and the wind from the slope would shake the windows of the house. But one voice was missing from the house. Anuja's. Manmaya had collected her granddaughter's toys since the day she left. She kept a small colorful clip in a wooden box. Sometimes she would open the box, take the clip in her hand, and put it back. 'Why do you open it again?' Bal Bahadur asked one day. 'I feel like opening it.' 'What's in it?' 'Anuja's things.' Bal Bahadur said nothing. A few days later, Navraj called. 'Father, we have talked again. We will make all the arrangements to bring you here.' Bal Bahadur moved the phone a little away from his ear and looked at Manmaya. 'The same thing again.' Manmaya came out of the kitchen. 'What did he say?' 'He says he will take us abroad.' Manmaya wiped her hands and sat on the porch. 'Their hearts are worried about us. They don't think badly.' 'I know that too.' 'Then, isn't it worth going once to see?' Bal Bahadur looked at his wife. Manmaya thought for a while. 'If you go, I will also go. If you return soon.' Bal Bahadur smiled. 'If both of us go, won't the cow, the dog, and the plants curse us!' They looked at each other and laughed spontaneously, but the matter ended with laughter. Navraj did not give up after that. He talked about money. He told them about the facilities there. A good house, a good hospital, a good life. Sandhya also called her mother and said, 'Mom, we don't want to trouble you. If you are with us, we will also be at peace.' Manmaya listened carefully to her daughter-in-law's words. 'Daughter-in-law, we understand your feelings. But we also have a world.' 'What kind of world, Mom?' Manmaya looked out the window. There were the trees they had grown on the slope. The cow was tied in the courtyard. Kalu had come and sat at Bal Bahadur's feet. 'The cow, Kalu, and the plants are our world.' That evening, Bal Bahadur and Manmaya sat in the courtyard and looked towards the slope for a long time. The roof of the house had been replaced with the money their son had sent from abroad. New utensils had been added to the kitchen. Navraj also kept sending medicine for Manmaya. But they felt—no matter how much love their son sent from afar, could it give the joy they felt when they saw him step into their home? Meanwhile, Navraj called again. This time, there was more worry than persuasion in his voice. 'Father, we can't live without you anymore.' Bal Bahadur held the phone. After a while, he said, 'Son, you are not the one leaving us. You are the one who chose the path of leaving us.' There was silence on the other end of the phone for a while. After hanging up the phone, Bal Bahadur sat there for a while. Manmaya looked at his face. 'Why are you silent?' 'My son has said his piece. We still have to say ours.' 'What will you say?' Bal Bahadur got up from the porch and looked at the courtyard. The cow was grazing. Kalu had come and sat next to them. 'We have earned enough, so why prolong our desires?' Manmaya looked, trying to understand his words. 'The longer you prolong desire, the longer it gets,' Bal Bahadur said slowly, 'Desire is never fulfilled. One must learn to accept that enough is enough. That is real life.' Manmaya was silent for a while. 'But Navraj's heart will be hurt.' 'His heart will be hurt. But we also have hearts.' That evening, Navraj called again. He said that all the arrangements had been made to bring his parents abroad. A good room, medical facilities, time for care—he listed everything he could. Manmaya took the phone. 'Son, you thought of us, that's a lot. But let us stay here.' 'Mom, I don't want you to suffer.' 'We are not suffering, son.' After hanging up the phone, Manmaya looked up at Bal Bahadur. 'We are not stopping him, are we?' 'No. Let him build his world. We cannot leave our world.' That night, it rained lightly in the courtyard. Drops of water were falling on the large Sal wood log. Bal Bahadur stood at the door and watched it. He knew—his son's mind would not agree again. 000 000 000 Time flowed at its own pace. Navraj and Sandhya remained abroad. Work increased. They started talking about building a new house in the village with the money they earned. Bal Bahadur didn't pay much attention at first. 'Why do we need such a big house?' he said on the phone. Navraj laughed. 'Father, it's for you. How long will you stay in the old house?' 'This house itself feels big to us.' But a few months later, the house construction began. Navraj sent money. Bal Bahadur started hiring villagers to work. Manmaya, however, would serve tea to the workers in the morning and evening. As the new house was being built, the old courtyard remained the same. The Sal wood log also remained there. One day Navraj said on the phone, 'Father, now we have to bring you abroad. We have built the house. We will also buy land. It would be better if you stayed here.' Bal Bahadur said with a laugh, 'Do we have to leave the village just because we are building a house?' Navraj did not reply. A few months later, Manmaya fell ill. It was a normal fever at first. She took medicine at home. She rested for two days. On the third day, when she got up to go to the cowshed, her legs felt weak. 'You sit,' Bal Bahadur said. 'Mali has to be fed.' 'I'll feed her today.' 'She won't eat the grass you feed her.' Bal Bahadur tried to laugh, but seeing Manmaya's face, he couldn't. From that day on, he didn't let Manmaya work. The fever didn't subside. They took her to the village health post. They brought medicine. They thought she would recover in a few days. But Manmaya's body grew weaker day by day. One evening, she was lying in bed. 'We need to inform Navraj,' she said slowly. Bal Bahadur held her hand. 'Why inform now?' 'The son should know that his mother is sick.' Bal Bahadur picked up the phone. 'Navraj, Mom is quite unwell.' There was silence from the other end of the phone for a while. Then Navraj's voice came—Father, we are coming. Bal Bahadur removed the phone from his ear. It was evening outside. The Sal wood log in the courtyard was slowly disappearing into the darkness. Navraj and Sandhya came, managing their time. Anuja was also with them. She had grown much taller than before. But as soon as she stepped into the courtyard, memories of her childhood came to her mind. 'Grandfather!' Bal Bahadur extended his hand from the door. Anuja ran and fell into his embrace. 'Where is Grandma?' Bal Bahadur looked towards the room inside. 'Inside...' Without completing the sentence, Anuja ran to Manmaya's side. Manmaya raised her weak hand and touched her head. 'How big you've become!' 'Why have you become so thin, Grandma?' Manmaya tried to smile. 'I couldn't gain weight because I longed to see you.' Laughter spread in the room for a while. But the laughter didn't last long. Manmaya's health continued to deteriorate. Navraj talked about taking her to the hospital. Sandhya talked about medicine, doctors, and treatment. Bal Bahadur also did everything he could. But Manmaya's body did not give much time for treatment. One morning, she became very weak. Bal Bahadur sat beside her, holding her hand. 'Call Navraj,' Manmaya said. Navraj was nearby. He bent down and came close to his mother's face. 'Mom.' Manmaya held her son's hand. 'You have earned. Live well. But don't increase your desires just because your earnings are increasing.' Navraj's eyes welled up. 'Mom, don't say such things.' 'Let me say it.' She looked towards Anuja. 'Show the child her village. Don't let her forget the place where her ancestors lived.' Anuja came and sat next to her mother. Manmaya placed her hand on her head. 'You wanted to take me abroad, didn't you?' Navraj wiped his tears and nodded his head, but couldn't say anything. 'I couldn't go. Don't leave Father alone now.' Then she looked at Bal Bahadur. Their eyes met. There was nothing more to say for the years they had spent together. Manmaya's hand was in Bal Bahadur's hand. Outside in the courtyard, the sun was shining. The sun was also falling on the Sal wood log. After a while, Manmaya's hand slowly loosened. Bal Bahadur did not let go of her hand. That day, many people gathered in the courtyard. But Bal Bahadur's eyes kept returning to the path where Manmaya had been taken. And then they went to his granddaughter, who was playing near the log. 'Grandfather, why do you keep this big log here?' He looked at the log and said slowly, 'It hasn't been worn out yet, child.' 'Why?' Bal Bahadur took a deep breath. 'It holds countless memories for me.' Anuja held her grandfather's hand. Bal Bahadur placed his hand on her head. It wasn't just wood. It held his youth, Manmaya, Navraj's childhood, Anuja's first steps. It held the son who went abroad, and finally, the whole family that returned to their own soil. He held Anuja's hand. Mornings in the mountains usually dawn with the sun. That morning too, the village was opening up with the sun. The sun was falling on the old Sal wood log. Bal Bahadur kept his hand on the log. The soil was the same. The house was the same. Those who returned had also brought the happiness of that house. Navraj was remembering his mother's last words. He did not bring up the matter of returning abroad again. Sandhya also said nothing. They decided to use the money they earned to add to the land in the village and move forward with their lives from here. One evening, Navraj said to his father, 'Father, we are returning to live here now.' Bal Bahadur looked at his son. 'Come back. But not for me.' Navraj was silent. 'Going abroad is for earning,' Bal Bahadur said slowly, 'Earn as long as you can. Become self-reliant. But don't think that earned money is life. Memories are in our own country and village. And joy is found by sitting with the whole family.' Navraj bowed his head. Bal Bahadur said again, 'The longer you prolong desire, the longer it gets. Desire is never fulfilled. One day, you must accept that enough is enough. After that, the rest of your life is also your own.' A few days later, the courtyard was full again. Navraj was leveling the terraced fields. Sandhya was feeding the cow in the cowshed. Anuja was planting flowers in the empty spaces of the courtyard. New saplings grew next to the house. The old trees became denser. Bal Bahadur, however, often sat on that Sal wood log and looked towards the slope. One morning, Anuja came and sat with him. 'Grandfather.' 'Hmm?' 'Aren't you going to remove this log now?' Bal Bahadur smiled. 'No.' 'Why?' He placed his hand in the crack of the log. 'This Sal wood log has endured sun and rain for many years. It hasn't been worn out for me yet.' Anuja kept looking at his face. 'It holds countless memories for me.' He looked towards the slope. The morning sun was slowly spreading over the village. Dewdrops were glistening on the leaves of the plants on the terraced fields. Bal Bahadur kept his hand on the log. It wasn't just wood. It held his youth, Manmaya, Navraj's childhood, Anuja's first steps. It held the son who went abroad, and finally, the whole family that returned to their own soil. He held Anuja's hand. Mornings in the mountains usually dawn with the sun. That morning too, the village was opening up with the sun.