The power of giving

The power of giving

About a month ago a story captured a reporter of a  national  dailies’ attention. Chun B. Magar, a porter by profession gave Rs 5,100 to the Mahayagya organised by the Phidim Higher Secondary  School, to raise funds for the science faculty as a new wings. unbeknown to him the super-natural-power-of-the-universe started working in his favour almost immediately.

Upon hearing his generous giving, the CDO of the area instantly announced a reward of Rs 2000 for the Magar. Another announcement of the reward of the bag of Rs 10,000 followed. This time it was the chairman of the Panchthar Chamber of Commerce and Industries. Another influential personality of the society also came forward to give him a mobile set with a Sim card.

A total of Rs. 30,000 along with a mobile set including SIM card was handed over to him by a minister on January 28, 2010 at the Phidim Bazar. An elaborated ceremony to felicitate the porter clad in tika and garland was taken around the city with pundits chanting religious verses for his well being  at the conclusion of the Mahayagya. .  Chun B. Magar rubbed the shoulder that day with those of the society otherwise he would have never got the opportunity under normal circumstance.

This story of generous giving by the porter, who works so hard to meet his daily meals. His small act of giving made him sort of the Hero in that area and made a story in the national daily too.

After reading this story it got me thinking as well as re-read the two books which have been lying on my bed side for long period than any other books. Two absolutely contrast subject matter and written by the two different personality with their believe in living style.

One is Rich Dad, Poor dad by Robert T. Kiyosaki. This is one book i call ‘my bible’ and the other is a book  by a Loren Cunningham, a missionary, who lives his life as guided by the holy Bible- Daring to live on the edge.

Robert Kiyosaki admits in this book that he is a hard-core capitalist, who loves the game of money making money. he also shares with the readers his life long knowledge that one should be financially independent and should work on this line as early as possible. He mainly tries to share his experience, between the different concept about ‘the working for money’ and having money work by itself.

on the other hand Loren Cunningham, writer of the book Daring to live on the Edge is all about the trusting God Completely for all your daily needs. he also put forth  his logic how the 9-5 job holders on the secular world also can live by the faith. This books teaching is slowly sneaking in my brain.

There are so many real life examples in this book by Loren Cunningham how the needs were met met at the last minutes or on time just by prayers and the complete trust on God. how those needs  were met so miraculously. Some of the story really lingered in my mind long after I close down the book.
 

Like the story of the Sheila Walsh*. In her story he picks one particular incident that happened when she was a student of London Bible college. How a young girl who could not even buy a Levi's jeans could managed to get the money for her round-trip air tickets to Montreal, Canada to go on an outreach mission during the summer Olympic game, 1976.  How she then needed only $70 dollars for her bus trip from Montreal to New York. Out of that 70 dollars she only had 7 dollars and then she needed 67 to meet her needs. After the Cunningham's urge to the young crowd - do not rule out the giving, just because you have your needs. upon the holy spirit’s continued nudge and guidance, how she had to give to another blond girl in the group that $ 7 dollars. How she coped the passing hours with empty pockets praying God for help. But as she was waiting to leave the YWAM center how the administrative staff of that mission, had handed over an envelop to her saying that she had over paid her stay in that mission centre. Loren Cunningham tries to diffuse our doubts  specially from the secular world with he following logic, “such dramatic provision and miracles don't happen every day, but the ones that do serves to remind us of the God faithfulness, for years to come . Such special provision do not prove our spirituality, but they do prove to us that God is great enough for any circumstance or rest”.

When Loren Cunningham depends on God for his basic needs, Robert Kiyosaki suggest you should only depend on yourself not even with Government for your future financial needs.

These are the some vast difference between two Americans. One of the two Americans is a hard-core capitalist, who loves the game of money making money. The other American is a missionary, who lives his life as guided by God. Depends on Him, purely for his and his hundreds of YWAM workers in so many missionary work around the world for their daily needs.  These two people have drastic difference in their life style. What is so common in these two people and what makes them so alike ?  

There is one very common thing in these two absolutely different personalities and that is one believe in generous giving, no strings attached giving. Both of them was raised with one common teaching to give, “give and you shall receive”.  This one believe was instilled in these twos mind at very young stage. so both have seen and experienced the power of generous giving.

Robert Kiyosaki shares his blood fathers’ believe in receiving first and then giving, but there was never any extra to give so, he always worked harder to make money. His own well educated father, a PhD holder died leaving bills to be paid due to his own lack of interest on money making money concept. On the other hand how his rich dad gave so generously as and when he was short of money; to the church and charities as his rich dad strongly believed in tithing and those giving always brought back more money to him.

If Loren Cunningham writes on his book, “giving is the form of worshiping God,” then Robert Kiyosaki gives us the old saying that “God does not need to receive, but humans need to give.”

Robert Kiyosaki also opines that the giving money is the secret of some wealthy families. you must have heard of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and the Warren Buffet Foundation and the Ford Foundation to name the few.

Robert Kiyosaki shares further on this book of the power of giving, “there are powers in this world that are much smarter that we are. you can get there on your own but its easier with the help of the other powers to be. All you need to be generous with what you have and the posers will be generous with you.”

As for my personal experience i am thankful to Loren Cunningham for inspiring me to give. No one before could do this job. I did started giving small money to those needy but let me be honest here there were very small and i did invested substantial amount of money on picking on some share of some banks. my share valued got devalued in due course of time but those small giving did wonderfully came back to me than those substantial investment. But this also does not mean i don't like the idea of money making money, its just that the time is not favourable here in Nepal. At least not now.

I am sure my readers understand now, why Chun B. Magar’s story; got lingered in my mind for so long. This is the perfect example of how those generous giving gets multiplied by or in other words comes back in buckets.

*Sheila Walsh is the co-host of The 700 club on Television and writer and international speaker.

With love, from God

Dear Bernhard :

Its really been long time since I have written you. One of the reasons, behind not writing you is; may be its because we are seeing each others, at least couple of time a year. Of course, there used to be time when we used to see each other for long gap almost 9 years gap, so this is not the case now a days.

What makes me write you this letter is, my visit to Chitwan, last October. I make it every year During Dashain I visit my brother. I had a conversation with a guy, in the micro-bus. I was on my way to Chitwan with my Bhauju ( my youngest brother’s wife ). There in the micro-bus was our neighbour from chitwan, who had stayed in Kathmandu for quite long time and he too was on his way to home for  Dashain. During our small chat on the bus before I went sick inside the bus; he did help me to understand one thing which I knew for quite some time, but had not got it quite  clearly though. He being born and raised in the Terai area and having stayed in Kathmandu for his work proved quite handy for me to understand the difference between the land division in the Kathmandu and Terai area.

My youngest brother along with other four had inherited some land which he got as part of his share. In Nepal fathers had to transfer, their property in equal shares to his son(s). If he does not, the sons will make him, to divide it in equal shares, No favoritism.

There are about 27 Kattas of land on his name - not all of it he got at a inheritance. There is some percentage of land - my guess is - about 15% of the total land he must have got from his other brothers, as a clearance of the money they had borrowed from him. My point is, I did not knew how much is that much land ? 27 kattas was just a figure for me before I had taht small chat with that guy on the bus. How big it is or how small that 27 katta means. 27 kattas make 18 ropanis of land as per Kathmandu calculation term, which is big enough for me. That much is substantial land to own, to any one.

Okay, I still don’t know how many hector or acer that much land makes, so that I can make you understand. But they say there is a thousand way to skin a cat. One third of that much  land in the breakfast belt of our country is not only enough to feed a family of four for a whole year but they can send them in decent school too.

Of course they really have to work hard for this, but who do not have to work hard to earn decent meal !

My other brother, the middle one is living on  less than one third of that much land. What i find it so Interesting is the 18 ropanis of land has been barren since 1995. This is also the year my brothers lost their father. Its so that he could not sell it and his oldest brother is the main reason he is having hard time selling it. He can not sell the land without his help and he will not let him sell without he getting bigger pie of the share. If there are questions in your mind about why so, same here with me also.

I hope, you do remember, last time in March 2010 when you were here in Nepal; I told you, I came to know about the death of my biological father in the year 2000 only; about six years after his demise. It was the year i had visited my brothers after 12 plus years. He died a year after I graduated from college and surprisingly, I had never seen him before nor heard his voice. I also do not remember his desire to see me or know me. There were people to float his news.

During my first visit to my brother in 2000, When I asked my  brother ( I stay only with my youngest brother during my visit in Chitwan ) “do you have a picture of him ?” They handed me one. on which a frail sick man who seem to be wearing his skin as a cloth looks much lean and lanky was  lying on the bed already dead.

“ who keeps a dead man’s picture ?”  I asked.

They said, “this is the only picture of him.”

I also remember telling you in front of so many children that when all I wanted to do is to go to college  after school and be independent, none of my brothers came forward to pick up my college bill. Not a single brother came out  with  a solution, suggesting with the idea to pick just one months bill by one person and or the combined for a month or book bill for whole year.

The truth and the hard fact is that my college going was the one  topic never been spelled by my brothers nor by their father.

Let me clear out the air here about, one more truth here, I did not knew that I had a father. There was always a confusion about his being, like how many brothers I have five or seven. Some times the news came, I have and some times the news came; I don’t have. Some times news came he is still alive but mentally disturbed, News came from the bigger brothers, not smaller one.

My youngest Bhauju, who took care of him at the time of his sickness when he was on his deathbed; tells me he was a very much normal person when he died.

As a child, growing up in an orphanage; it did not matter to me much or let me be honest, at all that I have a father or not. I was not just one orphaned child, as you know, there are hundreds of them like me in that big Rana Era Palace. We were blissfully innocent enough to understand the value of parents around us. Luckily  and the by the grace of God, we were in very good conditions without them being around us.

What nags me, is that I was just a child and did not know about the existence of him. My mother ( the most uncomfortable word for me to pronounce ) died when I was only three, and that was the time we landed in an orphanage. Me and my youngest brother were put in Naxal. My other two brothers were placed in Shiphal, you know the place because that is where Dhana was placed for some time, its only for boys; and the forth one who was a little more bit big to keep in an orphanage, was kept  in the royal palace for some time. I am not quite  sure for how long he stayed in the place. And the biggest one has no option but to remain  with his father.

My biggest brother has a hump on his back, for which he blames his father. He told me about it, when I was still a teenager; during his visit to me, he got it because he did not do his chores, so the hump is there.

None of my brothers have seen the face of college, you know, they never visited me there. I am the only one from my family to go to college and graduated. You know what, I am the only girl and the youngest one in my family to make it. I would not have gone to colleges and find myself independent today  if my biological father would have been in a position to decide my future. Education was not on his priority list .

Thank God you were there for me and not him !

How thankful I am that, that was the time you came in my life. Your entrance in my life is like god sent angel,  which in fact changed  my whole life including my perception in bigger sense.

Some times, my brothers talk about the unclaimed land in the Shaktikhor area, big land; some 7 bighas in their fathers’ name. The problem is nobody can go and claim it, because none of the brothers have the document to claim it. They just have the knowledge about the land being in their fathers name. Did I ever told you, we are the flood victims. The flood that not only swept our house and the land but it also dispersed the siblings from their remaining single parent, so the documents must have been lost then.

I am not  much close with my brothers, never felt comfortable sharing my problems with them; and neither asking ‘help me I am in trouble which you get lost from me !’ Just the light talk, nothing serious. The four broters are also not much close with each others, four of them turn the four different directions.

But there is this line in my head for so long and  I cant remember how this line is so engraved in my mind for this long and I have no idea how and when it got there. “ we were dispersed as a family not because the flood swept the whole village including ours but because he was devastated by the death of his wife.”

What I find so nagging here, about my biological father is; he choose to pull himself from me through out his life after the death of  his wife, was he locked up emotionally (?), Did not think it necessary to visit me, not even once in his life, not in the orphanage and not after that. He did not do anything, that I remember him or know him well, long after  he is gone. I mean even long after his death.

His excuse to the devastation or may I say, his reaction was (?), he was an adult at the time of tragedy   happened in his life which shocked him for longer than that should have lasted and I was blissfully unaware to the fact  because I was so young to understand the gravity of the situation that  happened in my life also became my excuse for not remembering whole scene that went around me.

How thankful I am, that that was the time you came in my life. Your entrance in my life: when I was only a teenager and just out from school and about to go to college, and  when five men - one of my brother is retard who got lost more than a decade ago in India when he went to India for medical treatment with his biggest bother - in my life was reluctant to pick up my bills,  not just college bills but  any bills.

The time is what makes me to think: you have been a God sent angel in my life.  A right person at the right time.

That phase of my life, in fact kind of changed my whole perception about having it all and not having it at all. I think you came in my life, because God felt really bad, sad and sorry for me. I mean really bad for my condition and not being able to grasp the bad time might have awaited for me.  Today I think that if you are in my life, its only because God wanted to say sorry to me. I did not exactly prayed for some one to reduce my trouble. Did not get it early in my life when you were there to ease out my hard life. I was taking everything for granted then.

You have played a very important role in my life. Had I have my parents around me, I never would have known you and knowing you and having you in my life is much more important to me than trying to understand, very vague behaviour of my bio-logical father.  

Now, it does not matter why he never wanted to see me or know me. Why did, he not did; anything that I would remember him very fondly or at least have some respect for him in my heart long after he is gone.

What makes me think and think hard about the whole situation today, is death of a woman which devastate him happened to be my mother too !

Lovingly yours,

Sunita

There is no secret recipe for a success

One of my favorite movies is `Kung Fu Panda'. Okay, I got to admit it not after five half views. I just did not like flying snake, doing tough marshal art stunts by a tiger and a panda whose father was a duck, a tortoise who stays on top of the stick so and so.

After five half view, I finally saw the whole picture and then I truly got the clear picture.

The lessons of this picture is there is no secret recipe for a success and any body can make it. If there is no one's name written there, it may be you who is meant to do the unthinkable and remember there is nobody's picture on the mirror. You stand in front of it and you are the one. The other one is : some well experience eyes always see potential in you and some equally experienced eyes always doubt in your true potential. Trust yourself and believe in you even if, nobody believes in you.

Things are written on your hand and your family and its background helps you to be where you want to be.  At times it may be true but the end result is you will be there where you want to be and where you dream to be. If you don't dream your dream never comes true and then how come you ever live to tell to your children and grand children I lived my dream life.

One common example is Bobby Deol & Kangana Ranaut in Bollywood. Bobby had a family who is from movie industry and yes he did have some movie due to his family back ground and Okay due to his look also. And then there is Kangana Ranaut from Himanchal Pradesh and she is from very middle class family. Kangana Ranaut gave some blockbuster movie like Gangster, Lamhe, Fashion and Once upon a time in Mumbai to Bollywood. I can't remember which one was Bobby's block buster movie, can you remember one ?

I remember one story from the book 'You Can Win' about a balloon seller, who would let go colorful balloons in the sky every time there was sort of sale and every time after seeing fling balloons in the sky more children came to buy it, more than his expectations. One day, when he was leaving some colorful balloons mainly red, blue, green and orange in the sky, he got his shirt pulled by one tiny colored boy. Who wanted to ask him a question "will it fly if the color of balloon is black ?" Then the seller told him "of course, it will; a balloon flies not because what's on the outside but because what's in the inside of it."

When some body believes in you, and say you can do this, just believe him/her and most importantly believe in yourself. Mirror has tremendous power in it, look into the mirror and say you can do it and trust yourself.

~ End ~

Thankless Job

“....These Bal Mandir Children are never ever going to thank us, for whatever we do to them.” She raged. She has such harsh and mean voice even if she says something good, her  words do not agree with her mean voice; but when she is angry it will stamped in the mind with  you forever.

As a growing up child in an orphanage this is one line that have heard many times so it some how got struck in my mind forever. This line will never ever leave me nor my shadow. It came, again and again and again in the many more years to come from the same lady with whom, I am still in touch; this way or that way. The lady, hails from a well to do family. Lets call her Mrs. Shrestha, was the senior officer in the orphanage where I have stayed in the early part of my life, starting from the age three, until I was almost about 17 years old.

After more than 20 years, when I was having a casual conversation, with one of my childhood friend about that line; she pulled me back in my memory lane. Mrs. Shrestha had called us, all the big girls in her office. Girls who were studying in the  8, 9 and 10 class were the big girls. We were about 10-15 girls, standing nervously, in her office.

Once we were all settled in front of her big office, she started lecturing us to be thankful, if they do some thing good to us.

The good deed, she meant is which she did by sending one of the big girl in foreign country as an adopted child. She was about 16, and normally people of that age rarely finds his/her way to foreign land, obviously for the age factor.

One French family had came forward to take her to their home. She thrusted the letter on her table and then angrily pressed it with her forefinger, which Sharmila Lama*, ( the adopted girl )  had written to one of her close friend.

“ these girls make our job very thankless, right !”  she turned to her colleagues for their approval, who were  also called in her office. They seemed to be agreeing with her for that. Then she started reading some lines of the letter.  More she read it aloud for us more it made her feel uneasy, uncomfortable and disgusted. One of the reason is that the writers Nepali was a lot better than the readers’.

In that letter, she had cursed herself for being an orphan and more than that being in a foreign land from where she could not run nor hide herself. She could not help herself from the situation that was going through in her life. How helpless she was to help herself. In some part of the letter she was very vague, which was very intentional; as she knew that her letter will be read by her first, before it makes, its way to the one she had written.

That letter was the main reason, I along with other girls, were standing in front of her; in her office. The meeting dismissed after a brief but bitter and harsh lecture, to the bunch of young girls to be mature and act more responsibly and most importantly, learn to be thankful.

That meeting was nothing unique in any other way, as we girls used to find ourselves in front of her or one of the other officers for this or that reason. But that line stamped in my young mind; forever.

Again, after about 2 decades later, another  casual conversation with one of my other childhood friend from the orphanage, unfolded the truth behind the letter. Why Sharmila Lama, was compelled to write that letter and had cursed herself and was not happy; even finding herself in foreign land.

Should not an orphan be happy with that kind of sudden kick in her life ?  The vary question raised by Mrs. Shrestha, when we were young enough to understand the gravity of the situation that surrounded us ?

During her teenage period Sharmila Lama was a very beautiful, fair complex, a Mongolian petite girl,  not more than 5” tall. She did not have the parents or we do not know the real story behind them. Yes, as far as I can remember, she had very beautiful and petite like her with too many wrinkles on her face,an old grandmother. Her meagre pay which she was getting as a house maid, could not support her two grandchildren and another reason was her age. At that time she was working in one of the posh area of the city, who frequently visited her grand daughter.

Besides her good looks, she was the most talented person; I have ever seen in my life. She was very good on painting, water color painting is what she used to do as a teenager. Every Nepali New Year she used to get the painting done and her art piece; used to get the special position in a very prominent area, where all the visitors whoever entered our rooms could see it. Art and creative, were her strongest point; she was exceptionally good on these two areas. She was an average student. But her English was not that good as compared to Nepali and keeping her age in mind, she was really good in expressing her emotions on papers.

As told to her close friend and confidant, when they both were teenagers. She had shared it with her, during her very rare visit to Nepal. She was not the one to whom she had written the letter in her youth, when she was a captive and her pain was very much raw.

The true story behind the letter goes like this.

The year may have been around 1985 -1986, when she appeared for S.L.C but she could not make it. One French family came forward to adopt her, when she was taken to their home, then only she realized how much of a foster child she was. The French family, needed a foster child as a free household help. She was not only cooking, cleaning the house and taking care of his two children she was also helping them  in their studies.

What was even more disturbing to swallow was, as if all the household work she was doing was not enough for the family, she was used by the man as for his lust too. The man used to tie her hands and feet on the bed sides, so she wont be in a position to oppose him as and when he raped her, repeatedly. As if that much was not enough to her. The man started talking of sharing her with his other friends too. That scared her to death.

When the children left for school and couple for their job, she was locked in that house. She hardly have any contact with other people in her neighbourhood.

One fine day, however it was the children, of the rapist/abuser, who let her go from her prison like life, from that hell-house.

Not knowing, what to do and where to go in that unknown city and territory. On top of that she could hardly communicate with anyone with her poor French. What went on with her recently in her life had really terrified her. It was hard time for her to figure out who is good and who is bad, whom to trust and whom not to. She wanted to die for sure or commit suicide to kill herself. She went to the nearby beach, where she thought of throwing herself into the sea. It looked easy to her, rather facing the cruel life and not knowing what awaited her ahead.

It was evening time and she still was not sure about suicide by throwing in the sea water. She was blankly staring at the water. Hours went by that way.

Coincidentally, there was a man, who was watching her from a safe distance, who somehow seem to he sensing, there was something troubling her. She was up to something but he was not sure, what. Slowly and cautiously, he approached her and took her confidence to open up with him and talk about what was troubling her.

Luckily, the man was a Nepali, which was one of the reason, helped open her open up in that foreign land. That man also happened to be a lawyer, practicing in France. Then the rest, as they say is history. He took the case, into the court and shook the French family's’  normal concept of foster child, that existed in some peoples mind. The lawyer, who took her case fought for her and won the case. The abuser lost it and also fall from the grace in his society, in his own country.

Of course, it did shook the country terribly. Scared a bit to those who did adopted child specially from Nepal for a real good reason but other people still doubted their intentions, which did caused trouble to some kind hearted people, as well as the children they had adopted.

Suman Dahal, who is another guy, fostered by another French nationals; when he too was bit older - about 14 - 16 years of age - for adoption, shared with me during his  recent visit about her latest news. They are in touch on annual basis or as permitted by events that bring close to foster child and parents in France. Today, Nirmala Lama, still lives in France. She is in the fashion industry. She enjoys very good salary and position, very few people, make it there. She does visit Nepal, specially to visit her brother and her family, but its very limited.

She never married. That scar on her teen mind and body was too much for her to bear.

Shadow of a Ghost

She is such an entertainer and is a drama queen also at the same time. But the truth is she is not from the entertainment industry, just my friend.  It is really fun to have her company. She has so many stories to tell; of course most of them are imaginary and if not, exaggerated to beyond recognitions.  Its true that, she is observant than others but her blown out of proportion is enough to confused me for its authenticity.

Today, literally out of no where she started telling me, the story of her mother; to my surprise its new to me also. My mind started racing and I am guessing in she is not feeding me any imaginary story here. After all its her mothers’ memories stamped in her seven year old mind.

It all started, her remembering  the conversation with her teacher; When she was in about fourth standard one of her teacher told her during the break time, “do you know your sister had ran away with a guy when she was much younger but her master brought her back and then again married her off with another man and with whom she has two children ?”

She was very surprised and intimidated that her school teacher knew something about her; so she asked, “how come you know about her ( sister ) ?”

“Oh ! I know all your family” she replied. “Are you from Dang?” still surprised but trying to hide it from her teacher,  she again asked.

“Of course !” the teacher replied.

Because she is telling me this story today. Now she has two grown up college going children; so she did have to play the role of her teacher as well as of her own when she was young. Mainly mimicking her teachers voice as well as hers voice then, in different voice and her body language. Her body language is  intimidated talking to her teacher; when she was in forth standard. As she was very average student and not a kind of student who tom-toms with her teachers. The teachers voice which she tried to mimic was very sharp tone and eerie making it very funny to any ones eardrum. When she mimicked her, it is sure to send any one in the roar of laughter and upon request  she loved doing it again with much pleasure. The fact is she enjoyed mimicking  her  teacher’s voice more than we enjoyed hearing it.

But now it was the teachers turn to ask the young school girl; “how come you are here ?” she meant ‘how you landed here in this orphanage home at Naxal ?

“our mother died when our father had  abandoned her, just before the birth of her youngest sister, 5th and last child.  She died when our sister was only six months old.” the school girl replied in bit sad tone. She said her mother was Tamang but was married to Chettri, she cited the reason of the abandon.

“She died ! how sad” she said to herself; but to this young girl it came like a question so she went on “Yes ! she died because shadow of a ghost touched her.”

Suddenly, the primary school teachers’ eyes lit and she asked, “is that your mother? because I have heard of a woman who had died by the ghost haunt but I did not knew; that, she was your mother ?”

By now the girls mind was filled with so many questions, how come her teacher know so much about her mother ? she still had some doubt of her knowledge ( of herself and about her family members ) so she was determined that one day when she grows up she will visit her birth place and will find out about her parents.

“How old were you when your mother died?” I asked her. “I was seven when she died.” She said.

She also told me that she has four siblings and she is the middle one in a row which mean she has older sister and younger sister as well as older brother and younger brother too. she cited the name of her sisters and brothers as well as their age when her mother died.  Because I thought I knew her for quite some time but I never knew; about her mothers story as well as her siblings.

My mind was racing, very fast by now; how come a seven year old child can remember so much about the death of her mother; as well as the people around her. That kind of memory power is unbelievable for the person who could hardly manage to remember things which she read.

“Did you went to Dang?” I asked her again ? “Of course I went.” she promptly replied. “I went there when I was  three months pregnant with my son.”

“What ! you went there when you were pregnant ?” I asked her in horrified tone. she said, “I had a big argument and fight with my husband, so I went to Dang hoping I would never come back.”

She had returned her home town, after almost 15 years later; yet she told me that she had very vivid memories of her house and its whereabouts so it did not take much time for her to find the house and her siblings.

Shadow of a Ghost, is enough to get me confused. There are stories going around in our society that the ghost do not have shadow, any things that is non-living, do not have shadow. As I was listening her story, My mind drifted back in my own memory lane. Our elders talking and sharing ghost stories.

In one of those childhood memory, There were ladies about six and two men. They were working on the round shape and in the centre, there was a big bowel where they were filling all cut pieces of the cauliflowers and potatoes in different bowel.They were cutting vegetables for the big meal.  One of the man was telling his encounter with the ghost. The man  was on  his mid or late thirties now, got the company of ghost during his youth, in his village. When he was in his early  twenties; under the full moon   only to be surprised that ladies who were with him half the way to his home, clad in the white sari was nowhere to be seen, after few kilometers of good chat, near the graveyard area of his village. He said all this in one breath.

Normally, this kind of  group work give the opportunity to share their good time and some times bad times also. Its good when they talk and bond while working.

One lady said her knowledge, “if you want to know that, the ladies who were with you; that night you should have checked her shadow. If she would have been a ghost you could not have seen her shadow.”

The other lady spoke, her own believe and faith about the ghost, “they say the ghost, specially if it is a woman, you should have checked her feet; because it faces backside front and front side back.”

But the young man who enjoyed the talk, that night with the women seemed less affected by those suggestions or may be not sure about it when he was accompanied by those two most beautiful woman he ever had seen. He was in hurry and the night was getting darker by the minutes. So all those myth of checking ghost of our society  just  did not work for him.

“I only realised that, they were ghost when they vanished without a trace in that road which lead to my home on that night”  the Tamang guy concluded.

“What, where are you ?” the quizzical look of my friend, pulled me back in her room on current time, when  I see her face, I said, to my story teller; “but ghost do not have shadow, how come it killed your mother?” “You do know this don’t you ?” They don’t have shadows.”

So, she immediately corrected, her story; with the following line “may be she was touched by the ghost and then died.”

Her story forced me thinking, did she died because she was haunted by the ghost ? Her mother was abandoned by her husband to marry another woman. At the time when she was pregnant with her 5th child and there were four more children age ranging from 10 - 3.  The demand of the current job, which she is required to feed with her meager earnings as a farm helper to one rich man of that small town. Not sufficient enough to feed her young children. Does she even needed a ghost to kill her ? Was not the situation surrounding her enough to kill her mentally and physically; inside out ?

~ End ~