(Part 3/8) “I was in a foreign place, up in the Rolwaling village. There were no phones in those times. During my stay at the Rolwaling village, something sinister came to me to whisper that I had to return home without delay. I packed up my bag, cut a branch for a walking stick, made a pouch of flour, hurriedly bid my friends and host farewell and started walking downwards. When I reached my village and walked through the neighboring households, I was welcomed with silence and with blank eyes. I yelled at my neighbor: “Will anyone dare to tell me what bad luck has befallen me?” The answer came as silence. When I reached home I found out that a few people had gathered around the kitchen fire and my wife lay on the side. Soon I saw that she was senseless. She was neither alive nor dead. I learned that my wife had an accident and had broken all the bones in her ribs. She could not move, neither could she speak. The villagers told me that when they were carrying her back to the house, they could feel that all the bones in her body had lost their place. How did I feel you ask? I felt like all the waters of the world had flooded my existence and all the mountains of the earth had grounded me to dust.
I could not take her to the hospital immediately. One, I was financially weak and two, we could not move her body. A touch would render her dead. And I had no courage to give her that pain so I just watched her lie down. I and my sons joined her wailing with our grief. I did not leave her side from that day. Days become night and night turned into days, and I rested my back below the bed where she lay moaning, where she lay waiting for the merciful death to come and take the last breath from her. In the middle of the night when she would fall asleep due to the exhaustion of the pain, I would check on her. Had she died? Was she still breathing? But she had the strength of the mountain in her although her pain was real. I felt it like it was my own. To make things worse she got pneumonia. I would run down to Chet Chet or Ghongar to get her medicines. I would run back up and put it into her mouth. For many days to come, she kept on breathing. She kept on crying. For many days to come, I kept on breathing, I kept on hoping.
One day luckily some doctors from the health post came to visit. They labeled me a fool for not taking her to the hospital in Kathmandu. I tried to explain to them that I did not want my wife to die on the way to the hospital. I told them every time I tried to move her she lost her consciousness. I told them about the road, about the jolting buses. I explained to the doctors that she would die of pain before she reached the hospital. They did not believe me. They insisted that they try carrying her. I warned them: ‘If she dies, her death is on you.’ They did not listen to me and tried to lift her and the next moment my wife lost all consciousness. It was my turn to scold them. After a while, my wife started breathing again. That was only when the doctors understood my predicament. They said, ‘Dai we leave this situation to you as we can be of no help.’ Then, they left as fast as they came.
I fed my wife a lot of ghee. I was told that ghee had powers to heal. One day she excreted what looked like a black rock. That was the day she told me that she felt better. It was only after, 22 days, I put both my hands under her back and moved her. She did not faint this time. I felt some relief. I knew she would live. That is all I had prayed for. To god, to spare my wife’s life. That day I cried and cried. That day I slept all night.”