My daddy used to tell me, "Life isn't always rainbows and butterflies for neither of them last long. Life is what we make of it." Sometimes life is so cruel that (actually we make it) it back stabs and throws us into a dark and deserted well where only spiders and bats find it a perfect place for sheltering. What are we supposed to do if we are thrown in a dungeon? How are we supposed to get out of that long and horror-like well? This is the very moment we feel like we are left in a room without Oxygen. We feel octopus' tentacles holding us tight from every possible space it scans. Will you suffocate to death in that room? Will you let that creature blue you till death? Or you have something different in your mind? My father always used to ask me such questions to which I would smile and say, "That's ridiculous question, Appa." though I knew those questions meant more than what they actually were meant to be. I listened to his life story for several times but I feel more interested as I hear more of the same story time and again.
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| My lovely family |
My father had a bitter life since his birth. It was hard for his widowed mother to feed and clothe him and his only sibling brother. He worked for an elite family in his village when he was just nine. Waking up early in the morning and fetching firewood were the hardest things which he even dreads today. Day hours were bit lighter. Herding cattle and seeing other herders of his age would make him happy for little time of his tiring life schedule. Sometimes the days were not better when the cattle entered others' field and the landlord scolded him for not being vigilant and even bruised him at times. He would put on his torch and move to the temporary shed meant for guarding crops during the night after a cup of porridge or sometimes two when he had not collected enough of wild fruits during the day hours. He missed his family back home and cried but who would listen to the poor boy? Those moments were the moments when he felt he was in those real tentacles. He was stuck in reverse; He was tired but couldn't sleep. I pity my father.
His elder brother who used to make frequent visits no more cared about knowing how his younger brother was doing. That’s obvious. Everyone changes after they get married. Mother shouting at his wife would hurt the one more than his wife shouting at his mother. His brother was married to a middle-class lady from the village. His brother didn't even care about realizing how his mother suffered back home and how desperately his little brother longed to see his face. My father felt a feeling that his world wasn't just fetching firewood, herding cattle and guarding crops. He saw a brighter world beyond elsewhere. Once my father made an attempt to run away from the family he used to work for which actually was successful for duration of a week. His friend took him to school and made him learn ABC’s in one of the boarding schools then. The news spread so fast that the family came to claim him. He had no other option left with him just then to walk with reluctance as his master pulled him. That was unfair!!
One fine night, he ran away from his master. When he reached home, he saw his mother with sore all over her palm preparing her bed. She exclaimed, “Drupchu, What at this hour! Aren't you supposed to be guarding your master’s crop?” She prepared another bed near her for her son. The conversation lasted until rooster crowed for another new day to begin. The son shared his decision of going for a monk. Mother wasn't convinced at first for she always thought that the landlord treated him good. She thought it wrong. She was reluctant to send him as he was the only kid left with her after her eldest son got married. Finally she decided to take him to a monastery and formally make him a monk. Reunited mother and son slept after long conversation and the mother sighed as her head landed on a rough pillow, “I should have kept you both with me. I am such a bad mother. I am sorry, my son.” What could she do? She was helpless.
Next morning his mother woke up and prepared some gifts to be taken to the abbot of the monastery. My father opened his eyes and heard his mother saying, “Don’t wake up. Your mother is not done with breakfast yet, son.” It was 7 o’clock in the morning. He had already slept three hours longer. He was free bird thenceforth. With much excitement, he woke up and dressed himself up. After the breakfast they moved towards the monastery. They prostrated before the abbot and offered the gifts as they were let into the shrine of the monastery. He became a monk. I should say ‘lay monk (gomchen)’ to be particular. He was personally guided and taught by the abbot himself like his own son. At that peaceful moment, my father felt everything at its best. He had no resource but he had resourcefulness in him. He created resource through his resourcefulness. He studied hard and came through ranks. He came through ups and downs.
Now he says that he is the richest man on this whole universe with a great guru (lama) to seek discourse and truth from, beautiful and caring wife and loving children. Well, I know what he means by saying this. He is neither Bill Gates nor Steven Jobs but he is much richer in heart than what Microsoft and Apple would have possessed collaboratively in brain. He feels that he was a savior in his past life. Was he? He calls it his 'Lungten (leading fate)'
They say that the happiness of our loved ones means a lot to us; Even more than our's. My father does think of it every moment; every second. Many would wish to see their loved ones sing out of joy, picnicking, driving, camping and smiling every day. I know that's everyone's wish and I also was brought up with that kind of wish since I was a little boy walking happily as he directed towards his school. I wanted to build a nice house for my parents and let them wear clothes which they just dared to imagine and dream. I wanted to buy my three younger siblings the best food and best Ipads which they just saw other kids enjoying. I wanted to gift my girlfriend with the most beautiful diamond ring. These even seemed possible in Walter Mitty's world of mine. This started in me like a once-upon-a-time's story since my father’s birth with which I believe have to be fought tirelessly to let it end with, "Happy ever after." Will this ever happen with me? Will I be able to make my loved ones happy even after I heard my father’s story?
