Dear Mother:
The home is never the same world. The breeze is neither soothing nor infuriating me and the clouds are always burdened with the weight of water. No birds had as yet managed to fly over the sun. The star that fades during the day is never brighter than what is there during the night. Having left us on 3rd May 2015 as what fate has to decide; it was not a matter to share like the burden of what I can bear. Your death was ……. totally uncertain and yet certain too…………. In your memory, I have written what I actually learned and how I lived with you.
Linked by the karmic bridge, as you housed me for nine months inside your womb; only then I had the privilege of coming through you as a human in the form of a man. Thank you Mother for you have saved me from taking birth in the lower realm. You brought me here in the peaceful kingdom free of turmoil without having to stay as a victim of war, hunger and poverty. Rightly from you I was born as a perfect child, neither blind nor dumb and deaf, thus, fully having all the parts of a human being. Thank you mother for you have cared and protected me from getting wounded by the peril of fire, knife and other hazards. Thank you Mother; because of you; having born in the Buddhist nation, I can now receive the teachings of Ugyen of Oddiyana for the plight of the sentient beings.
Reminiscing over my childhood days of sleeping on your lap and having never missed the charm of getting a secured love from you makes me feel so close and touching. The warmth of love that I received from you is truly unfathomable, indelible, pure, immortal, compassionate and even healing too. As a child I used to sleep together with you on the cow’s hide with few kiras as our blanket. I know not how balmier it was to get cushioned into the rags of wrappers nectared with your love. For you have taught me how to find gold out of rags and be contented with what I have.
Mother; I know you have endeavored to groom me as an undifferentiated self, and a real man in the coming future. Your blessings and prayers for me to become a ‘zadrakapa (bright son) of the land’ were too immense that made me work hard even during the times of hardship. Your decision to school me was profound and when I was in class PP often you used to say, “kota pass showalekpey la mo failshowa legpeylaya (son which would you like; failing or passing in the exam?).” Later after my graduation you smiled and told me that I used to reply to you, saying “Fail shoni la legpey( I would be happy even if I fail).” As your eldest son I had an opportunity of being a chechey (pampered) and I used to go near you holding the edge of a Kira whenever my father used to scold me or whenever my friends used to chase me for doing naughty things. Indeed, you were the source of everything- peace, comfort, love, security, kindness, humbleness, sympathy and understanding, perfect in everything. Awesome. As a housekeeper and a gardener, you used to wake up very early in the morning along with the crowing of the cockerel and work more than washing and dressing me besides having to prepare ara or cook food for the family. Your endeavor, love and interest in the work have taught me how to love my work and show interest in it. You were indeed an epitome of goodness.
Along with you, I drank water from the stream, walked barefoot and looked for the strawberries and wild fruits during summer. You taught me how to fetch dried wood and store it for summer. You even taught me the ways to plant seeds, weed the field and harvest crops. You were witty and caring too; I still remember how you have arranged a charkhab(rainproof) for me by cutting a sack and later got bangchung(container ) for packing my lunch after bartering few kilograms of chilies with my neighbor. The jolha(school bag) you have woven for me was really a gift of love in which I used to carry my books, walnuts and bangchung in it. I remember how you used to cut matured eggplants, pierce it with a stick and hang it on the top of the ceiling to keep it as a seed for the next season. You used to hide cucumber and wild apples inside our big bamboo basket and keep it for me. You used to keep groundnuts and eggs for me so that I can have my share when I reach home during winter vacation and this makes me feel how much love and care you had for me as a son. I used to run away from you as you attempted to look for fleas or lice on my head. I even remember you chasing me when I didn’t allow you to take out the earwax (cerumen) from my ears. Mother you know I was naughty as I used to hide your chargrilled potatoes and secretly drink your best wine. You made me test and taste the aroma of rural life both through joy and hardship as I sailed through the formative years of my life. Together with you, I have experienced the beauty and the truth of life.
When I was a kid you used to joke with me to marry the daughter of my late aunt Yangzom. Sitting on the hearth of the oven, as a child I used to ask for butter. Whenever, I place a pot on the oven, you would have already known what it meant to be and you would take out the butter and wine from the store and hand it to me. Then we all would drink wine together and my grandma would narrate the stories of the past. Sitting by the side of the oven, you would refuse to sleep even if I request you by saying, “Ama yepchoko menang unlha (mother better sleep now because you are feeling sleepy).” Together with you I have tasted dhoma (beetle nut) and experienced the joy of an extended family.
Mother I can hear your melodious voice. For you used to tell me, ‘Son you were born in autumn when it was time to harvest the paddies.’ Seeing the grinding stone, I still remember how I used to sit on the left seat, holding the wooden pole as you moved to pick a handful of maize and free it on the perforated top of grinding stone and sing a traditional song. I can vividly draw your figure of pounding tengma(cornflakes), winnowing rice, and washing zhingong(sweet potatoes) all for me. Ata(brother) referring it to me, lamkogpu fayomo(can I bring onion or garlic for you) you would ask me before every meal, knowing it as my favorite vegetable or otherwise you would be ready with well-pounded red chilies. During lhosars, you used to give your share of sikampa( pork) and eggs to me after seeing me finished with my share. You used to bring everything for me and you wouldn’t eat even a grain of rice in my absence. When I was in school, you used to come on Sundays to meet me bringing pack lunch and left me with few ngultrums. Until I got a job I have seen you wearing old kiras and walking barefoot as you have sacrificed your money for my school fees, shoes and dress. Thank you, mother, you have sacrificed everything for me.
When it was time for me to sleep you used to remind me to put off the lentshongme( lighted pine). I am always reminded to recite Mani whenever I go out at night because you told me, ‘Benafeska dhelakam main jang cho na’( whenever you go out at night to recite Mani.) Early in the morning, we used to accompany my grandpa and help him to milk the cows. There you taught me how to feed the calves and treat them with love and care. Whenever I kept the horses unfed you would send me again to feed them with hay. Whenever there was rain at night we used to light the bamboo stick and take our horses and cows into the shelter. I regret a lot as you would be never pleased to see me bringing eggs from the barn after chasing the hens. I exactly cannot recall how I killed a cock that made you angry with me. On seeing me kicking our cat, you would say Dhani tobeley fang ta haley kongchaya( instead of giving a food why are you beating the cat). You were more than a mother, for you have taught me to look after our animals with compassion and feed them regularly like you used to do.
Whoever used to come to our house, I have seen you not sending them empty mouths without a meal or gurbu(cup) of wine. You would either give them a gurbu of wine or if not a cup of Singchang. The moment you saw people walking around our house, be it a stranger or a villager you used to invite them to have a gurbu of Ara. Whenever soenampa(a lay monk) used to come home begging for chilies or grains, you would leave your work aside and rush to the attic to get chilies and grains for him. When Wamrongpas used to visit our house bringing sugarcane, oranges and Tshatshiburamto barter with our red chilies; I used to request you, saying, Ama tshatshiburam mangpu thayona( Mom please keep more amount of sugarcane-chocolates). You would smile back and say, ‘Nado drikpey drikepy( yeah. I will keep it for you).’ Every winter Brokpas (Highlanders) would come to my house bringing cheese, butter and yak’s meat so as to barter with the chilies and grains. You would happily accept them as our Neypo(guest), feed their horses with our hay and serve them with a free meal and wine. Throughout winter we used to have lots of guests in our house and I have seen you always being kind of treating them. Thank you, Mother, I have learned that I need to have a heart like you and treat any visitor like the way you have treated them.
The pains of having to depart from you as I left for my school days really pierce my heart. At the age of thirteen, I have seen you crying emotionally from the heart and this made me cry uncontrollably as I depart from you so as to lead a boarderly life. I can vividly remember you advising me not to tell lies, thief and fight with others in the school. ‘You must work hard so that you don’t have to suffer like me,’ your profound advice would always conscientiously guide me to work hard in the school. You used to praise me every time when I get through my exams. During my sophomore, as promised you have woven an Adang mathra (colorful) gho for me. I know you have cried more than ten times for me each time I left you to attend my school and college life.
After getting a job, whenever I go for a winter vacation to spend time with you; you used to pound the rice, buy eggs and treat me the way you used to treat me before. When I tried to give you money, you would say ayeten langpa cha makhela nan folang nyongpa girang dripa shonangfewa( I have enough money to run a family and you need not have to give me. And I am happy that you can now lead your own life). After returning from Bodh Gaya, you smiled and said, ‘Nangi nye jebey kunteni shonngdakchang fewana (I am very happy that you have sent me on pilgrimage). I was happy that at least I could do something to make you feel happy. Thank you, Mother, I have learned to be happy with what I have and thank those who treat me well.
‘Rangpeycha lam peynongpa ta legpugelana, tsa drekchona Amagi yekpey,’ this was the last word that I can remember you inspiring and congratulating me for getting an opportunity to pursue my studies. Before I came out from the house, my late Grandma Lhaden after bringing soot on her right thumb from the oven she then marked it on my forehead and neck as a thabsung(seeking protection from the hearth guardian). I didn’t know that 26th January 2015 would be the last day to walk with you till the road point at Zhengrey as you accompanied me till there to say goodbye to me with a kilo of tengma and container of chili powder. I can still remember you that time with green tego, slipper on your legs and basket on your back as you waved good-bye for me. For the first I have seen you smiling and I was bit relieved seeing you smile as I left for Delhi to pursue my studies. Yet it was the last meeting of all the meetings I had with you, and the smile of all last smiles I had from you. My promise of bringing a Goechen tego( silken brocade) for you from Delhi has all gone into vain………………
I know you were too young to leave us, and yet the uncertainty of time couldn’t hold you back. Dad told me that your departure wasn’t any mystery as you were aware of your death. On your last dead bed, you have remembered me and said your last word:
‘Jangsheni bu ata chophel ta ma shektu jaga dewachameniy. (Even if I die my eldest brother Chophel may not reach here as he has gone to Delhi to study) Legpan choi yekchona( Tell him to stay well).
On hearing the news of your death, I rushed from Delhi and reached home before your 21st funeral rites. On reaching home, it was no more home. A home without a heart and a heart without home everything was absent, empty and missing. I can see only your kiras and nothing more. There was no one to answer my inner questions about your whereabouts. No new, no updates only the sound of cymbal, oboes and bell………….. After nine days of your departure, your mother or my grandmother left us; and the death came like the strike of lightning, for the home became more than an empty heart. What’s there in the house, when there is no home? A house without the mother’s presence and the heart without your love can never be a real home. Though you left us, I know you are always here with me. I can see you in me because I represent you. Thank you Mother! You made me a true hero. You were a real Tara (Drolma) for me and I am always missing your Drolmain smile and the Sangag Love. I am your seed that embodies all your qualities.
May Chenrizi bless you and let you rest in peace and may you get rebirth soon. May my grandma rest in peace and get rebirth soon.
Thank you
Your Loving Son
Sonam Chophel
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