Mama Ghar | Dangihat | Dr. I B Rana

Mama Ghar (Maternal Uncle’s house)

Here I am, laying my feet on its soil as an adult for the first time. Its winds with it brought back the same emotions, it had once installed in a child in me. I can safely say (for this place at least)–once attached, never detached. I just had to close my eyes to go back in time: to smell, hear and picture things as they were. As I was in-tuned with the past, suddenly, the whirlwind of emotions came rushing. Overwhelmed, I had to excuse me, find a little hide-out and soak it all in. Few deep breaths and I felt much lighter and at peace. As I was sitting there, a little birdy grabbed my attention. It was hovering around a tree in front of me. It hopped from one branch to another, throwing its quick glance at me, like as if seeking attention.

Mama Ghar: Soo many memories here growing up. Children–all curled-up together for story-nights narrated dramatically by the elders. Those scary stories of encounter with the ghosts being discussed beneath the starry nights with nothing but a laltain on (lantern). Those thumping sounds of children running in a wooden bridge–which linked two separate sections of the house: from all bedroom, hall, to the kitchen and another bridge extending towards the tallest toilet in the entire region. All those and more—now only etched in memories. In a sense, nothing about the place is the same. But again, it hasn’t changed much.

A literal English translation of the word mama-ghar means, maternal uncle’s house. I used to wonder why its called mama-ghar and not ama-ghar? Ama meaning mother. Well, I was enlightened on it only recently. A son calls his home–home (a place where he was born and/or brought-up). Whereas, his sister(s) calls her husband’s house her home (once married). In that sense, sasurali (the house of the in law’s) is in verbal use only for the son(s). As for the daughter’s, its either ghar (her husband’s home) or maiti-ghar (home where she was born and/or brought-up). That was quite a revelation for me with peculiar reasoning. Which brings me to this question. Does it mean, all women and girls unless married are without ghar–a place they can call home? Not necessarily right?


Since the day I got the taste of travelling, I was hooked to it. Thanks to my father’s love for driving. Something about being in the motion, on the road, seeing life up-close and away from routine, made my heart sing. Every year I used to look forward to our long school vacation, for a much anticipation family trip. The route from home in Kathmandu towards mama-ghar in Dangihat was the strong link that gave me and my siblings an opportunity to see and experience country-life at its best. Born and raised in Kathmandu, hadn’t it been these trips, I would have never understood the beauty of simple living. I could have never known, how exuberant I could feel without THINGS. I could have never witnessed the power of small things, the beauty of little adjustments, all those small exposures that make us humble, considerate, and overall, a good human being.

Maam-ghar, a house with a thatched roof providing enough space for humans with the generous field for farming, garden and a fair share for house pets and animals. This full house used to be always buzzing with people and full of life, but now, it stands alone. This vintage home, that sheltered many and cured thousands has slowly started to shred. However, still rigid and strong for its age. Like a treasure box: each pile of its wood has secured the fondest memories of our childhood. I still remember seeing a number of villagers gathering in the big room on the ground floor to watch the television. This used to be the house, ahead of its time in its locality. It stood unique with its antique stained glass windows and intrinsic appeal to its bed (especially one in the grandmum’s room, I always had my eyes on it). The house in some way had adopted the unique personality of its creator (granddad)–spreading an aura of one in a million.


As a child, I was a little granny–very wise haha. Nothing comforted me, more than my own company. Often, I preferred to be alone or in the company of nature and puppies, dogs, birds etc (by choice). In that area, I haven’t changed a bit. My elder sister and cousins, on the other hand, were little troops of an army, parading around-town. I mean this in a playful way—when together, they were a bunch of spoilt brats expecting royal treatment, haha. And to back up their courage, our grandfather’s name was enough. This name, Dr I.B.Rana. worked as protective armour at any given day. I feel sorry for those poor village kids, who had no choice but to succumb to my cousins’ endless demands in favour of few guest-kids (us) from the city.

My cousins were not the first generation to reap fruits from grandad’s name. His repute, once established hasn’t left the place yet. In fact, it is travelling with people whose life he had once touched. My mum with her siblings’ shares without guilt that they all made full use of their last name, beyond comparison. Innocent little devils! But what fond memories to re-live isn’t it? 🙂 Their childhood stories although repeatedly mentioned, never fails to entertain us all.

Coming back to our childhood, the subtle version of bossing around was: Reserving swings for hours (archaic swing hung by the tree), bathing in natural canal, entering random house to play hide and seek or taking a plunge into the river (making it more of a private pool)—no intruders allowed (as if we owned it). Speaking of the river reminds me of my first ever encounter with a 🐍 (snake). As a child, I used to burst into tears upon its mention, even weeks later haha. Seriously, sometimes it feels as if that was, a whole another life that we’d once lived.

Most of us (cousins), were the millennials, almost equally divided into Gen Y.1 and Gen Y.2). Growing up in the city, at least me and my siblings had the privilege of growing up using computers and the internet. I feel, that the millennials are one of those fortunate generations, who got to experience the best of both worlds (the beautiful world that there was) before the internet and smartphone were placed above all else. However, their popularity or dominance does not make these innovations important than life; in fact, clearly, it isn’t. Well, arguably even the Gen Y has some exposure to the simplest form of life or farm life, through #farmville of course. 😉


Early in the morning, the market would already be buzzing with people. The sight of cold winter mornings was my favourite, where I watched crowds disappearing into comforting fogs. When I say market, it used to be those haat-bazaars (flea markets), with a colourful display of one’s arts and craft, jewellery, a variety of food, fresh home-grown fruits and vegetables, etc. Each seller used to exhibit their own little creations, by placing them over a thin cloth right off the mud floor, with a gentle daub of mud (red) for that polished effect. Also, many other sellers used to set-up open stalls made from wood and bamboo. It was a rare and comforting space to be in. Also a pleasant sight and scent amid good chaos. I had never witnessed morning like these anywhere else.

Buying bhakka (rice-cake) for breakfast was one those delights. Also, one of my favourite feats, because that used to my only motivation to wake up early. As much as I enjoyed eating them, it was pleasant watching it being prepared. Each set of rice-cake used to be gently wrapped in soft-cotton cloth (muslin), steamed in a clay pot with a lid on, placed over a wood fire. Once cooked, these freshly steamed rice cakes used to be folded either in banana leaves or a paper and offered with chutney (side dip). They were either cooked plain or with sugar. These little treats tasted best when served with tea brewed on thick cow milk right from the backyard. I’m hungry now.


In the eyes of the little girl that I was, mama-ghar looked humongous back then. It was the world of its own. Home to 20 family members: granddad, grandmum, their 2 daughters, 4 sons lived with their wives and children. All under the same roof. With works divided, everything seemed to operate well. Each mama (uncle’s) room had the character of their own. To mention one, the eldest mama’s room had the Jesus Christ posters—neatly framed with a rosary hanging around it. A tidy room with piles of science and medicine books on a table, along with statues of Hindu gods and goddesses. Although, born Hindu, each member of the family had the freedom of choice: with religion or life in general. Also, equal treatment to children despite gender. This speaks volumes about their upbringing in spite of being born in a small town. Big credit goes to their father (our grandfather). No wonder, my mum is so broad-minded. Not just her attitude but aptitude: her ability to grasp things, in particular, geography and numbers—astounds us both (me and my elder sister). In fact, both our parents never tried to impose any particular values upon us. We were free to make our own choices, learn from our mistakes and live life on our own terms.


Mummy-buwa (mother’s father), a reputed man of his time, respected by his people, but an unsung hero otherwise. His is not a glorified story; indeed a glorious personality. He-who has touched several lives, those who had once crossed path with his. I was told that there is a book published in his memory, by one of his well-wisher. I am on the look-out for that piece of literature.

Note: Mum and many others highly speak of him, his intelligence, his journey, his struggles, his level of understanding people of all age and gender. Honestly, there was a time when I thought, maybe, our guardians were trying to glorify our grandfather. Because, first of all, I had never met him (at least I don’t recall it). I was only few months old when his body left this earth. Secondly, I had grown up hearing stories of his heroic deeds and seemingly larger than life personality, but never actually got a chance to witness it. Not to disrespect but I thought, of course, he must be someone above average, but not as large as being portrayed. But now I think I was wrong. Because to validate all those stories, I have come across sufficient people (outside family) who can’t stop praising him. A family could be biased, but an outsider, will not.

He was originally from Burma (now Myanmar), a surgeon in the Indian army. Had a tattoo of Lord Krishna in his left arm. We were told, he used to speak and write in various languages. 10+ was the number. Personally, I am not sure, how true that is. All love and respect to you granddad if you are listening, but hope you don’t mind some healthy room to question? He seemed to have touched several lives within his reach and beyond his profession. He seemed to have charmed his people through his intellect, understanding, personality and most important of all—as a humanitarian.

With the pace at which the world is moving, not many have the time to spare for other’s life, let alone hearing their story. Everyone seems to be participating in this rat race of becoming that big story themselves. And that’s good; nothing wrong with it. But sometimes it helps to slow down and be an observer. If not for anything, at least for clarity. I have always loved stories, especially those narrated my mothers and grandmothers. It’s for the first time that I am mentioning granddad in my blog and it is my privilege to get to introduce him among all readers. Growing-up hearing his stories has been a traditional thing in our family. We rejoice it and its always a proud moment. Even though words might do no justice, at least by mentioning him in our conversation, we keep him alive for years to come. I have done my bit and shall continue to. We need your blessings granddad and may your soul rest in peace.


There are several reasons that contributed to our fond memories in Dangihat. First and foremost, the lineage (of course) and the reputation it held in the region. Secondly, we were the bhanja and bhanjis (probably the most loved and respected relation you’ll find in most culture). Being admirable adds to it btw 😉 And last but not least, the perception of an outsider, helped us see things that locals could not. It gave us a fresh outlook towards apparently an ordinary country-life. Also, one thing that never fails to grab my attention while on the go is—to witness that literally every single thing that moves—is fully alive. And that, in turn, makes me feel alive. Maybe it’s for this reason, whenever I feel that the routine has taken its toll on me, I try to somehow get close to nature. It feeds me with energy and always provide a much-needed shake-up, helping me let go of things that I must and taking-up things that I should.

Often, our surroundings change us for better or worst without our own knowledge. Some exposure blinds us away from reality while others provide better clarity. It’s not a fair comparison, but unwittingly I tend to compare: bills splitting culture in the developed societies, with the generous offering of so-called ‘impoverished.’ Which reminds me of Sadhguru who talks about, rich and affluent societies carrying long faces in spite of having it all; whereas those supposedly ‘poor’ carries the most hearty and cheerful smile of all (not in verbatim).

What’s with travel, the mountains and spirituality, if you ask? A lot of power out there, open for all—right there in the nature. John Wood, left Microsoft after his much-awaited time off work, trekking in Nepal. Sadhguru’s bewildering explanation about his life-changing experience in Chamundi hill in Karnataka, India and Steve job’s inspiration from Saihoji Temple in Japan. So what are you waiting for? Hit that road, take a plunge or climb a mountain. Do what you must, that helps revives the human side of you. Anything that helps you achieve your highest goals.
Happy traveling. $hri$T

Why do I write?

In retrospect, trying to figure out what writing means to me. How it really makes me feel? Why the need to write? Often I claim to have loved it. If it’s sth I love, why do I do it seldom? I think I know the answer :

  • When carefree or careless, I write
  • When hopeful or in despair, I write
  • When in love or out of it, I write
  • When in pain or healing, I write
  • When either sad or happy, I write…

Complete freedom to me comes with an ability to fearlessly express how I feel when I feel it. No drama, no games, I believe in being true to my emotions at all times.

Some are very protective of me that I write. They worry I give out way too much of myself in the process. While others are disheartened that I do it seldom. TBH, I don’t write or hold back for none of these groups. I don’t entirely do it for myself either. I write because I can’t resist the urge (when it comes); in that sense writing is more of a necessity than a free will.

While writing I come text-to-text with my alter ego. These words are not just my mere reflections. If I may say so, it has the life and soul of its own. Like a spirit, these words seek my attention and demand to take a tangible form. 

Writing makes me feel; sometimes way too much. There are times when I want to feel nothing and disconnect from the world. It’s then, I resist writing. But even then, more often than not, I’m always writing. But yes, I admit I don’t post as often as I write.

Despite the bittersweet emotions writing brings with it—it sets me free. It helps me heal better and faster. Writing makes me vulnerable yet strong and very much alive.


Kurt Cobain once said, “I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not.” My values and choices seem to complement that principle, more so, when writing. Writing allows me to be—myself. It brings out the most authentic self in me, often to my own surprise.

Through writing I confess my deepest fears to myself; writing enumerates my life experiences back to me. When having to deal with turbulent times and difficult emotions, words help me cope-up. It is for this reason, writing is my guiding light (has always been). Also, personally I think I express better through writing. Writing extracts the vitality from 8 years old in me and imparts wisdom from an 80-year-old in me. It feeds and nurtures both and all ages in between.

Writing embraces every aspect of my emotion. Writing to me is a form of my being. I AM BCOZ I FEEL, thus I write. I write coz I know, no other way of expression that feels so fulfilling and therapeutic. I write for all the reasons above and more. I shall continue writing as long as I feel, as long as I live.

How did it all begin?

I’ve been writing for as long as I can recall. I remember presenting a handwritten letter to my mum expressing my deepest emotions or at least attempting to—as an 8-year-old. While in 8th standard, I remember penning down thoughts about my experience on 1st day in school (new school). This write-up got published in a school magazine later that year—was indeed my first publication ever. When in 10th standard, I recall replying to a guy’s proposal, searching for the right words to decline, but politely. I remember having written a short essay as an assignment in high school, which earned me a praise from the vice principal in front of the class for portraying it beautifully. 

High school wasn’t even over, then came work. Although my first job wasn’t related to writing; I guess I never stopped. One of my ex-gifted me a notebook back in 2008 realizing this hidden passion of mine. It seems, he and many others saw it in me before I’d even considered it for myself. One of my bestie (Ujjwala) suggested me to start a blog; this was sometime in 2009. I let the idea hover until that day at work when there was no work. It was 2010 and I’m referring to a time when SM’s ship was sinking (the first organization where I’d worked). While there were many, killing time playing counter strike during odd hours, I seized that as an opportunity to start my own blog. Thankfully this attempt of utilizing time wisely in no time earned me a new job offer at ECS Media back in 2011. To my surprise, several others followed; in fact, in 2012 I received 7 or 8 job offers at once. I was under tremendous pressure to make the right choice. But today, I can say this proudly that I’d made the right decision by going full time with HLE (Home Loan Experts) which gave me the best 4 years of my career.

Coming back to ’why I write.’ Again, I do so, not to prove anything to anyone; not even to excel the art, but simply to express my thoughts and emotions with nothing but pure honesty. Although what I say may, very likely contradict from time to time but they are true to the moment when it’s being written. It’s like flipping pages of chapters from my own life (after having experienced it and learned a lesson ) I write, to move on to the next.

Happy reading, happy learning, happy writing. $hri§T

True Friend

In today’s era of technology where the world is in our palm and seemingly its a child’s play to network and find a love or a friend – but is it? Add ‘true’ before the aforementioned and think about it.

Scroll through those FB friend list of yours (if you may) OR look up on your phone 📱 directory. How many names you’d found whom you’d actually call in times of need? And I’m NOT referring to a seasonal craving kinda need o such but the real urge to feed your emotional need.

Who would you contact when you are feeling low w/o worrying about time? Or run to without considering miles?

A deserving friend who according to you should be the 1st to know (any change of events happening in your life)…Or that friend you would make a trip to, to a no man’s land in the middle of the night, around whom you may not look your best but they make you feel GREAT, with whom you can spend hours repeating the same old stories yet laughing out loud as if you’ve heard it for the 1st time.

Silence isn’t awkward rather comforting around them. You could be: silly or sad, fun or feeble, but the one who’ll be receptive whenever you reach out. You can be your truest self and open your heart out w/o being judged.

These intangible things like feelings / emotions / instinct / connection has a purpose in our life. Although they don’t shout out –  just know they are there – for our good. We know for a fact that we don’t connect with ever1 on a daily basis, so if we do share connection with someone, cherish, hold dear and keep them close.

This is to my friend in its truest sense.

Happy reading – $hr!&T


New year – 2016! Working on New Years resolution list? Oh u have em rdy already – Gr8!

How about you make this years resolution to check the progress made last year and a year before if possible? 🤔🙃😁

Well, not much progress there OR maybe you smashed it, whatever the case its undeniable that we all want to progress in whatever area we wish to, thus each new year seems like the perfect time to get on with our wishlists. It brings with it hope but is that enough?

Some might want to refrain from bad, some lost count thus simply want to start new, some to gain (weight perhaps) while others target to lose the same, but why wait for 1st of new month in a new year to do just that?

Stay resolute to complete what you’ve started – why the need to check date/time for that matter. Don’t start counting on the time left; rather enjoy the process. No point in getting anxious over its results it’ll cause more damage than good.

Personally i believe every morning allows you to start new. Even a simple thought that popped in your head out of no where when least expected can be the moment you want to seize to initiate – change.

‘Change/ success’ – we all know doesn’t happen overnight, but yes we must allow a certain day/time for it to begin ‘START NEW!’

What’s important is for you to stay dedicated, only then in due course of time your consistency, dedication and hardwork will start taking some concrete shape. It will be foolish to expect results overnight. 

Undeniably it takes dedication, patience and much more to succeed. Seems doable but It ain’t a cup of tea for all…In order for one to bring about that change, to motivate its crucial to stay motivated; not necessarily relying on the list or a new calendar year.

So you said you were working on creating a New Years resolution? Think again, all the very best and a HNY to you all 😊✨❄️🎊☃🍾🎉

Tracing roots 

In a skittish mood 😜cracking jokes that doesn’t make sense, interrogating mum with endless questions, memorizing grand parent’s names 😝 but I’m so glad for where the conversation lead to…

Now I know that our late grandad was a Burmese, an army doctor by profession, and spoke 22 languages. 

Mum says she isn’t sure about the religion he followed but as a child she has a vivid image that her dad had “Lord Shree Krishna” tattooed in his forearm. She further says that her dad didn’t talk much about his past life, but one thing she knows is – he was compelled to abandon his family back home and start a new life on his own. That’s when he entered a foreign land i.e Nepal, was on his own with only 25(MMK) in his pocket. 

Hmm…this is getting interesting. Grand dad’s life is rolling like a movie on my head. R.I.P grand dad and would love to visit your homeland someday. I promise! 😊


When we think of life, we think of one life we have and when we think of time – they’re uncountable. We’ve said that TIME is ruthless & LIFE is unfair but it’s no secret how much we hate them both as much as we love them. We are either waiting for the right time, sometimes competing with time, running after it or away from TIME in a pursuit of a happy LIFE. Life that’s happy is definitely attainable but the only tragedy is – it’s not permanent.

Every life in this universe is bound to taste a hardship, which ultimately leads to happiness but that’s not it! As “forever” and “ever after” does not exist. What does exist is inconsistency and uncertainty. By that, I meant – impermanence is one thing that’s permanent in life. Now this is a best as well as the worst part.

For an instance, say you have planned your life 10 years ahead not knowing what future has in store for you. Your future could be minutes away from you or could be seconds or less. What happens when you unveil the surprise life throws you with? Yes! Now surprise could either be a pleasant or an unpleasant one.

Here’s what you can do. If the surprise turns out to be a pleasant one, you should know that it’s not going to last forever so you must live the moment to the fullest and if it turns out to be an unpleasant one, you must thank god, that the moment shall pass as nothing is permanent. Now would you still call life unfair and time ruthless when life teaches you and time heals you? Know that one treasure could be a junk for others (its only a matter of time). If you know what I mean. P-H-E-W!

See! Life isn’t going to be easy because it’s not meant to be but that shouldn’t stop you from living. Uncertainties are part of life, accidents are part of life. They say, “There’s no better teacher than life” but life is no better teacher if you’re no good a student, because what you learn is what you understand. Optimism is the key to life!

So focus on glass that’s half full! When theirs pain, you must understand that you’re gaining the power to endure, when you’re victimized you learn to fight back. AND you do not fear – FEAR! Instead when you face fear you learn to become fearless.

Likewise, when you survive an accident, you don’t blame life for making you go through such a traumatic phase! Rather you thank life, simply for – keeping you alive (it’s no less than giving you another life). So life is unfair it is but to our own benefit. After all it’s that deprivation in life that paves the way to our own advantage. Bitter or sweet – you have no choice but to taste LIFE instances that TIME offers you.

Time is all that you have right here right now and life is all that you make out of that time. From your everyday schedule spare time for yourself, to live and just be thankful for being alive. If you think you have all the time in the world, you are only fooling yourself for time is not anyone’s to reserve or waste. As Mahatma Gandhi has said, “Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” Live in the present for what if tomorrow never comes and learn plenty today so that you are all-prepared for tomorrow. Education is the only factor that changes all lives and by educating yourself today you can survive the CHANGE brought by TIME tomorrow.

And face it, life is gonna f**k you real hard and learn that there will be haters but there will be those who love you too. There will be people who may not stand your presence but think of those people whose life you’ve touched, those who cannot imagine their life w/o you. There will be people who might wish you were dead but think of those who pray for your long live every single day. How could you please everyone when even god could not. So you don’t always have to be likable, all you’ve got be is yourself.

I want to take a moment and thank all my dear friends, beloved family and well-wishers for being there for me. I could never describe in words what you are worth. I also want to thank god for giving me what I have today. I want to believe that I still have a long journey ahead, and for some reason I want to believe that we’ve left the worst behind and It’s time to PARTEH 😉 for what better reason to celebrate LIFE than to learn that you are still alive. 🙂

Yet! I Am Still Alive – II

If you’ve gone through my blog you might find another post with the same title and there’s one more thing that’s common – date perhaps!

March 6 2014, Thursday: It was somewhere around 5:15 p.m., Mum and I were on our way back home. I was the one riding a scooter. Suddenly, I heard my mum scream and before I could see what has happened; I had been dragged on the open road. Everything happened within a fraction of a a second and few moments after the accident I was frozen – as if time stood still.

When I’d realized that we just had an accident, my eyes were desperately looking for my mum, I looked in front, beside me and then backwards….there she was lying on the floor helplessly. I couldn’t tolerate to see what I saw at that moment. So I ran towards her and called out “Mum! How hurt are you?” But she did not answer. She looked at me – all confused. Her mouth was swollen, with the blood dripping from her lips and she was holding her broken tooth in her hand and was sitting there – in shock.

Few inches behind her – was a bus waiting for us to stand up, give them a side so that they could drive away. I noticed people had gathered around, just to stare – not a single soul to help (Although there was one woman who offered a helping hand but that woman was unable to speak, however, that disability of hers didn’t stop her from helping a complete stranger while rest of the so-called enabled crowd circled around just to stare.

I looked around to see if there were any policemen – found none. With the help of that woman, we got mum to walk towards the pedestrian zone. I then walked a few distance to keep my scooter in upright riding position. In trying to lift my scooter I felt a strong jerk on my right arm. It was then I noticed that my jacket was torn and I’d hurt my knees – could see the blood in my pant and my right arm was stiff.

I tried best not to burst into tears out of helplessness. I walked towards mum, helped her stand and asked her if she is ready to go? It took a minute/two for mum to speak. I asked her again, if she can manage to sit in the scooter. I told her that we’ll go the nearest hospital. She nodded her head, she was unable to stand on both the feet, and thus leaning towards me she hopped to make her way towards the scooter.

We went to the dentist first, after her check-up we both were given painkillers. People at the dental hospital were very helpful; they suggested that we must see the doctor who’s in Kalimati branch at the moment. Guy at the hospital suggested its best we leave the scooter here and take a cab instead. He further suggested that we can have our family or close friends come by to pick up the scooter tomorrow.

It had started to get dusky so I quickly called a cab and made our way to the hospital. On our way, mum spoke about the incident. She told me that she’d seen that guy with a black helmet from a distant, he was in full speed, he was about to hit a car on our right and that’s when she had screamed but instead that guy made a quick turn and came towards us instead as he could not slow down. First my mum was dragged on the road and then I was and later the scooter.

As she testified in detail, I recalled seeing a strangers motorcycle’s handle bar interlaced with our scooter. It seemed as if one man was riding two bikes at the same time. Few distance ahead, that guy somehow managed to get rid of my scooter, dropped in on the side of the road and ran before anyone could catch him or could note down his bike number. Thinking of it now, it seems all that happened so fast within a blink of an eye.

Mum further told me that, as soon as she hit the ground, she thought I was dragged along with the bike and next think she recalls is using all her energy to make an effort to stop the bus which stood just few inches from where she was lying on the road. [And that was the scenario I recalled again when I first saw her after the accident]. My eyes were watery but I held it back somehow.

I was angry and helpless at the same time. How can someone be so irresponsible (that guy who was riding as if he owned the road, the traffic police who was not there and those people who were there just to stare – as if there was some entertainment going on). How someone could come out of nowhere to drag us almost to our near death and run away – just like that? And most importantly why should someone else pay for someone else’s mistake? I had a lot of questions to which I also knew that there were no answer.

Soon we reached the hospital but the doctors and nurses in Jyoti Hospital suggested that we have to file a police report before they can go ahead with the medication. It was dark outside and lord! Just when the victim has somehow made it to the doctor and all we expect to get is an immediate medical treatment, doctors ask us to file a police report first? And that too when it’s almost dark? It seems legislation act and rules would do what it takes to make the procedure more complicated esp. for the victim. Oh lord – what world are we living in?

Thank god we had a nice dentist with us, who consoled the doctors and nurses in the Jyoti Hospital to give us the necessary medical treatment first. Mum had to wear leg brace and see a doctor again after a week. My report showed that there was blood clot on my right elbow thus doctors suggested not to strain it until fully recovered. We both were given injection, had our x-ray files, went through routine check-up and we were provided with the medicines.

We could file a police report but what evidence did we have? We didn’t have the bike number and there was no traffic around, no trace of the biker, people gathered but no one bothered to help or stop that rider from escaping, and we surely don’t have an image clicked of a rider (I doubt if that’s the facility we have in our country). Instead of going to the police with false/ no hope and wasting our energy, thought would be best to go home. I know silently bearing injustice is no less a crime but what would a common man do?

Just one phone call and news about the accident spread within close friends and families in no time, had our mobiles ringing endlessly. Was late at night and we had a tough day, so had to go home to rest. I was in pain but I could also see that my pain was nothing in comparison to what my mum was going through. She had her teeth broken and could not lift her left leg while I just had few scratches and pain on my right arm. But despite the pain I had to be strong – coz we only had each other at that point of time, my strength would give her some strength thus I had to be strong.

Next day our cousins visited to see, and one of them happened to mention the date. Yes the Nepali date that seemed to be a curse of some kind. Falgun 23 was the date when our cousin brother had died in a bike accident almost 5 years back, same date three years back I had an accident, I had mentioned about it in my blog too and now, around the same date we got into an accident – again.

Is it just a co-incidence? Whatever it is – from this day forward I better watch up for the month of March. However, I am thankful to god because it could have been worst and yet we’re still alive. I believe we have a long life ahead, there’s so much to do, SOMEBODY to become so we ain’t gonna die so soon and definitely not like this.