I love reading books cover to cover. I love to explore reading not just the beautiful story but why the story…..
A frail old man from the tea gardens gifted me his book. Upon a cover was this rare acknowledgement.
……..to my late father Dilbahadur Gurung and late mother Setimaya Gurung. My wives, late Lacchimaya Gurung, Late Soma Gurung and late Jagatkumari Gurung. My sixteen-year old son, late Umesh Gurung who had already attained manhood; daughter late Nisha Gurung and brother/sister-in-law late Ambarmaya Gurung; and to all the immortal souls of my already deceased family – those souls which have inspired me through every speck of my happy and trying moments, through all my exuberance and pain to make poetry happen.
The man was shri Indra Bahadur Gurung whose love for literature and poetry is vivacious. An ordinary tea garden labourer, with little schooling owing to those harsh tea garden days, with no proud degrees to write of or even money to fend for himself during those ‘shutdown’ days, and sudden shocking exital of each loving member of his family – he still made poetry & literature real & happen. A doyen of Nepali literature from the downtrodden Dooars tea belt, he has published reams of poetry, short stories, essays & drama.
I have yet to meet such soldiers whose ceaseless battles & struggles enrich lives.
Dream
Yesternight she had come perhaps…
awaking in the morning I came to know,
after waking I may have wept, recalling it all through
seeing the pillow wet I came to know
one of the window’s pane lay stark open
perhaps she had squeezed in to meet me
tonight too I left it open
but all through the night I was sleepless
upon almost morn my younger son sleeping beside me
harked out….. mother……mother turning restless in his sleep
waking my son from slumber I asked what happened?
mother cuddled me to sleep all through the night
just now she went out to visit my sick brother
at the hospital
I turned solemn,
yesternight I saw a dream
tonight my son had seen one too.
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