A small group of girls at the Himalayan Hope Home have been working for years on the practice of writing in English to not only polish their language skills, but to explore the power of sharing their own stories. Here are three new essays about the role of parents and siblings in the girls’ lives. Please enjoy their insights and stories!
Love You Dad
By Krishma S.
My dad’s name is Krishna Sundas. He is 40 years old. His goal is to be a successful person. He works as a tailor. He sews clothes for others to earn his living. He does not have his own tailoring shop, but he is working hard to have his own shop to sell and design clothes for others made by him. My dad’s favorite color is blue and he loves to travel to different places. But he is a very serious person. My dad does not joke, so I need to talk with him very carefully. I love my dad very much.
My mother left me alone when I was six years old. This was a great shock to my father. I used to cry for hours when I missed my mom, but he would put a book in my hand to study, maybe he wanted me to understand we cannot overcome problems by crying. He did not have a lot of time for me as he was busy working. Maybe he was more worried about my future than his own. We have an extended family. But sadly no one was there to support my dad. My grandma was sick, so she was hospitalized. And he had big problems at that time. I saw him crying many times. I did not understand anything at the time because I was just blind to this world.
My dad made great sacrifices for me. Sometimes he took me to a hotel or my uncle’s home for food. Somehow he never made me sad about my mom. Then later, he collected some money from friends and paid the hospital for grandma. Regarding my uncle, he was in his village and it was difficult to travel to Kathmandu. In my opinion, whether they came or not, nothing is more important for children than their mother. Today I am able to live this happy life at Hope Home because of my dad. So, I can never thank him enough for rest of my life. We can meet teachers, people who teach us about love, but it is only dad who loves unselfishly. He used to scold me for my mistakes, maybe he wanted me to learn that.
I remember that day when my dad raised his hand to hit me, but forgave me instead. My dad’s situation was very difficult, but I did not understand. I told my every problem to nearby friends. Somehow it got to a neighbor’s ear and they talked to my dad. When he raised his hand at me, I felt I was the main cause of all the problems. I was very wrong at that time. Later on, I realized he wanted to teach me the power of forgiveness.
For me, it does not mean forgiving for wrongdoing, forgetting past, forgetting pain. It means letting our self free so that we can move forward in life. As I understand, the power of forgiveness is very beneficial for us. Forgiveness transforms our anger, hurt into healing and peace. I am a lucky girl to have such a loving dad. So, giving birth is not enough for a child, but to raise them up is also a big thing. I have seen this beautiful world because of my dad. So, great thanks to my lovely dad. My dad is the best in the world.
My sister’s name is Tulasi Bharati. She lives in a rural village in the Solukhumbu district. She is an important part of my life.
She is like my mom because she did for me what a mother does for her child. She did everything, like looking after my studies and working in the field growing crops and vegetables. She was only 14 years old and also studying in school when my mother passed away. She sacrificed her every wish for my better future. What I needed or wished for, she gave me. She fed me, our animals and herself at a time when we had 4 goats and one cow and I was only 7 years old. In hope of a better future for me, she sent me to the Hope Home.
Now, she is married and lives with her husband and works in a school in my village as a nursery teacher. She has come to see me every 2 or 3 years.
She is the best sister in this world, ever. I want her to live in a beautiful house in Kathmandu near me, supporting herself, not like others who depend upon their husband.
My Birth Story
My village’s name is Kerung. My village is in the Solukhumbu district, where the highest mountain in the world, Mt. Everest lies. I was born in place called Angpang which was my maternal uncle’s house. There is a small stream near my village. There were more than 20 houses. Only four were Sherpa homes and all others were of other castes. People were very friendly and cooperative. The village is covered with hills; there was no transportation. People used mules as a means of transportation. But nowadays everything is totally changed. There is a very good means of transportation. There are many new houses and a greater population. When I came Hope Home I missed my village a lot, but I was so unhappy to see such transformation when I returned. It was totally unexpected.
I was born on a cattle farm where my mom worked looking after cattle. When I met my grandma last year during the Dashain vacation, I asked her about my birth story and she told a story which was very interesting to me. My grandma is sixty five years old. She has got lots of wrinkles and only 4 to 5 teeth are left. She used to live in the village but now she is in Kathmandu with my maternal uncle and aunt. She got sick and weak because of the hard work that she did during her earlier life. She was hospitalized for 14 days. When I went to meet her in the hospital her eyes were full of tears which made me cry. She is still not fit and fine. She takes dozen of medicines and I hope she will recover soon.
I have three maternal uncles and one aunt. During my birth, my second maternal uncle was with my mom. When my mom’s labor pain started, my maternal uncle who was just 15 years old, and my aunt who was much younger than my mom, were with her. They tried their best to help her give birth, but they were unable to help. As fast as possible, my aunt went to call her sister, (a health worker), while my maternal uncle stayed with my mom. But mom gave birth to me before the arrival of her sister. When she gave birth to me, her whole family was with her except my aunt who had gone to call her sister. The most interesting part was my youngest maternal uncle who was just 7 years old brought cock from home as there is a custom in the village that after giving birth, a mother should be fed cock meat. After the 24th hour of my birth they all took me home.
After the name keeping ceremony, my father came with empty hands. Although there was ritual that if a child was born in the maternal uncle’s home, rice, ghee and other food should be brought from the father’s home. My grandma as well as the whole family accepted him and gave him shelter without thinking of what people will say, because everyone knew his condition. This was my birth story that I heard from my grandma during Dashain vacation of last year. After hearing this story I felt that my father is the worst father in the world, unable to feed his children. I love you mom; you are everything for me and I miss you a lot.