Monday, April 6, 2009

Going Home

My longing to be home was eating me up that I no longer could hold. But there was no way I could be there. Once we work, we have obligation and duties. And since it is that which gives us food and shelter, we cannot just ignore. Weeks became months and months became years. But finally a day came…

I couldn’t hold my excitement. I was going to be home and I just couldn’t hold my mind. It went on thinking of thousand different thoughts and there were so many things I wanted to do. But this, I had to limit again. A colleague and I headed to the east on April 15, 2009, in sheer joy and anticipation. We had anticipation because we were not on a holiday. We had works we had to carry out. And this was what set us off to the east in the first place.

A night in Ura and Monggar was too long. My home was still many, many kilometers away. I was counting the days, though I knew I would be in Bartsham in three days. My sisters’ faces flashed in my mind and I longed stronger to be there.

I met my brother at Tashigang and he went with us. When we reached Dzongthung Gonpa, we met my sister but we didn’t stay for lunch since he had already asked mathang to prepare lunch. I was seeing her after three years. She had not changed, but she has become a mother of five now, at an early age of 30. What a big difference there! Many urban women don’t even get married at that age. Her two younger kids were playing outside the house. Their simplicity and humbleness was tearing my heart. I would have cried if I allowed myself to think a little longer. So we told them that we would be back the next day and went off to my brother’s house.

My heart was where it belongs, at last. As we walked to my brother’s house, I saw my nieces, mathangs, ajang, and cousins outside their house, asking, “Thinong oon cha mo?” And as I grasped on the familiarity of the village culture I was so soaked in, I knew how much I had missed all of it.

Later that evening, my relatives came to meet me. Though there was nothing big to talk about, it had so huge a significance that what we felt was in our heart and no one had to question if our feelings were genuine. And so soon again, I long to be there.

When I was on the Verge of Quitting

I am writing this post one year and one month after my last post. I buried writing as a past hobby, or a habit. I buried my urge to write as...