Ifs and Disappointment

April 29 2010: Back to Bartsham from Yalang. I thought the journey back was easier but when I reached Bartsham, I found that I was so tired and my whole body ached. I went to my brother’s house to have lunch and take bath. Brother is in Monggar for a meeting and Mathang was gone to help Aku in sowing maize. I went to Aku’s house and talked with him for some time and when I found that I was really tired and had no energy to sit, I went to my brother’s house and slept. I woke up and caught the concluding address of the 16th SAARC Summit by the PM of Bhutan. Strangely, I thought I would be much better if I were in Thimphu that moment. It is strange because I always long to be in my village when I’m in Thimphu. This probably shows that our mind is fickle.

Mathang told me that Azem Phomo passed away yesterday. This had a very strong effect on me that I felt a sudden shudder of sadness. I felt bad that she had to suffer before she took her last breath. She lost sight long before, that is before I completed my high school, and then later, though she stayed with her youngest daughter, she did not have a very good life. Not that her daughter did not want to be good to her but she did not have the means and environment to look after her well. I thought, this in a way was my responsibility as well, for they all served my family – meaning, they all helped my family till they married and went away to lead their own family.

I’m going to Tashang where she took her last breath at her elder daughter’s house. I feel a strong sense of something calling me there. I already find myself mourning. I wish I took her with me and kept her with my mother. How much better I would feel then. But of course, we people do not stop thinking of ‘ifs.’ This only sounds like a lame excuse but I honestly feel, I should have done something to ease her pain in life. I thought she was an unhappy woman. When my sister-in-law told me that she was asking for his son in her last stage in bed, it pained me to think of how mothers always love their children and worry about them. She said, “Where is my son? I wish he would come home, or if not, at least send me a small amount of money so that I can eat sweets cherishing him.” I hope his son is now home. He ought to be. I do not want to say this, but I heard that the family for which his son is working did not want to send him home saying that, his mother wasn’t dead yet. This sounds so cruel to me.

And when I see such differences in the life of rich and poor people, I do not see equity written anywhere. Unless we can cling on believing that we have sowed different karmic seeds, I do not find how else we can console ourselves. It is as if, poor people’s life is less important than the rich people’s life.

Thinking of her death, I had a very disturbed sleep last night. I even dreamed of my mother and my sister in Bikhar. This made me wake up at 5 this morning. I’m all ready and waiting for my sister-in-laws to come to go and pay our condolences to the family.


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