Dry Nationalism--Broken Hopes!

In you, we trusted; in your words, we believed;

Not once, not twice, but multiple times,

You came, asked and we sacrificed.

In 2007, it was Rana dynasty,

We would liberate you against their tyranny, you said,

Education for all, you reiterated,

Little we knew what all that meant,

But still we fought in; we gave in all we possessed. 

We marched the victory parade together,

Long live democracy, we chanted on the streets,

Not aware that would be the last time that you would,

Speak the language that we do,  

And pretend to care, on a daily basis, what we go through.

In 2036 and 2047, it was Panchayat,

We need a democratic Nepal, you came back again,

Strong and inspired you seemed,

We trusted you one more time, with our future, with our lives,

Losses that we could not recover, but faith that we restored,

Despite your broken promises, we didn’t let our hopes drop,

Yet again, you forgot our language;

You forgot our plea; you forgot our pain,

In the aftermath of victory parade that lead you to the top.

In 2051, it wasn’t you, it was them,

They came from jungles, they came from rubble,

They spoke right through our hearts,

Inequality, injustice, prejudice, we will eradicate,

Mantras that soon became our motto,

Different they seemed from who you were,

Little it took for us to conform to;

Ideologies that was so alien, yet seemed ideal,

Philosophy that was so violent, yet so pertinent,

They gave us mantras; they gave us guns,

Fight is what we need to do; against you they provoked,

We gave in, we fought for, we resisted,

They too left us stranded, no longer speaking for us, speaking about us,  

Again lives lost that we could not recover, but faith still lingered.

Time passed, they met you, and you two united,

Friendship that had nothing in common,

Except greed and desire,

In 2061, it was King Gyanendra,

We need a Republic Nepal, you two shouted together,

The same broken dreams, similar hopes that we fell for,

Belief that this would change our lives,

Faith that this would transform our dreams,

Led us to revolt again; on the streets, against the bullets,

Federal Republic that we established,

Over countless lives lost, tragedy so huge to surmount.

Then you disappeared,

We didn’t know where you two hid, once you got to that hot seat,

Did you even recall us?

Did you even care what happened to us? Did you even recall who lost their lives?

For you, it probably meant nothing; our brothers, our friends who died,

You got to where you longed; never looked back and pondered,

The plea that got us aroused, the pain that made us trust you,

For all this time, you motives were clear,

Just like morning dews, your mantras on nationalism dried up,

Only fool were we to believe opportunists like you,

To trust you with our lives, with our future.

This time, it isn’t against anyone,

There is no ‘us’ and ‘them,’

You ignited a fire between us,

Disturbing the social tranquility that had been our pride,

Again giving us false hopes, broken promises,

You made us take on streets again,

Against our own brothers, our own friends,

Your greed, your hypocrisy that should have been so obvious,

Yet, completely missed by our blind eyes,

Only fool ones are we to believe opportunists like you,

To trust you with our lives, with our future.

Nepal, new constitution, new hopes--what changed for me?

Bhunte ka ba, where are you? How are you? Are you seeing all these? Can you see what we had to go through? Can you feel my pain? Can you feel my solitude? So many questions for you my dear, so much to talk to you about, so much to share; yet all I get is silence.

I wish you were here today. Wish you could see what Nepal has become. Wish you could see this chaos. I don’t think you thought this is what revolution would bring. I don’t think you were aware this would be the change. If this was what you wanted to fight for, I would not have let you go. I would have begged for you to stay. I would have done everything to keep you with us. If you had still wanted to go, I would have gone with you.

I keep thinking about you, I keep hearing your voice. It’s been rough thirteen years since we lost you, but still I feel your touch. You told us that you were fighting to liberate poor people; that you were fighting against inequality; and that you were standing up against tyranny. I didn’t object then since you wanted to go. I didn’t stop you since you had made up your mind. I could see that desire in your eyes. I could see that hunger inside you. That determination was so vivid that I thought this might just bring the change in Nepal. You were certain that you would come back one day, and we would breathe in new Nepal; that our kids will have better lives. You asked me to handle the household, take care of kids, and take care of your parents. I did my part, I fulfilled my responsibilities, but you forgot your promises.

In your absence, I had to take care of three kids: their constant questions about you, your whereabouts, and when you would return were not easy to answer. Every night I wondered where you would be, and how far you were in your mission. Many dashain, tihar came and went. Every monsoon, we struggled but we survived. We could not afford to buy winter clothes, but still we survived. We endured the pain, hunger and still managed to stay alive.

Your parents kept waiting for you until their last breath. They loved you very dearly, eagerly waiting for you to come home. Maybe you have united with them in heaven now. Maybe they have already expressed their complaints; I can only speculate how happy they would be seeing you. Many times, police would come to our house looking for you. Every time, I would tell our kids that their dad was not a criminal, but a freedom fighter. They didn’t understand then, and not sure whether they understand it now either. I thought I understood, but I am not sure whether I can say I understood what it meant.

4 years passed by, except for few letters we didn’t hear anything from you, anything about you. Yet, we had not lost the hopes. I had hoped that you would return and embrace me once again in your arms. That day, I thought I would cry my hearts out, forgetting all the pain that kids and I endured in your absence. I thought we would give up everything, move somewhere and start a new life. This loneliness was too much to bear, so I thought I would not let you go again. Shattering all our hopes, news about your death arrived before you did. I didn’t know what to do; I was not sure whether to cry or not to cry. In a matter of few seconds, I had lost all that I had lived for. Our kids had lost their father before they even got to know him. They knew nothing about you except your name-every time they would write your name in school assignments, tears fell through my cheeks.

Many things happened in Nepal, King Gyanendra came and went, elections were held, and earthquake hit us hard. The earthquake took our house, landslide took away our land. But, we survived. Bhunte grew up too early for his age. Having seen me struggle to manage the household, he quit school and started working. I tried my best to convince him to go back to school and finish college, but he didn’t listen. He didn’t get much work, could not make much money, so he has gone to Malaysia to earn, I wanted to stop him. But just like you, he didn’t listen, he just left.

I had not realized it had already been 13 years since you left. Now, they say new constitution has been promulgated. They say now things will change. However, I think back and wonder what has changed for me. Except for few gray hairs, and wrinkled face, everything has been the same. Poverty, struggle, and loneliness; it all took away my desires, my youth, my life. In the war, I lost you, my husband, my everything. This society has been very cruel, my dear, but still I have been waiting for you. You come once in a while in my dreams; you hold my hands, you caress my hair, you tell me to wait. But, how long do I wait now? How long? You are testing my patience. I don’t think that I have that much patience any more. I loved you then, and I still love you, but I now wonder whether you were too selfish to leave all your responsibilities behind and take off just like that. You left me, you left our kids. What still bothers me is you never asked me. You never did. 


--Narrated by a middle-aged Nepali female who lost her husband in Maoist War. Based on real life stories heard. Names and details changed for dramatization purposes.