Here is a story of our dear friend from Kathmandu, Nepal. She told us a story from her childhood. A teryfing story of mistaces and hardship of life. Now she lives in Baudha region with her family; husband and 3 sons.
“I have written a short story about an incident that I cannot forget. It’s a story from around 1997 AD when I was just eleven years old. I clearly know it was Monday because there used to be Monday Market one hour distance far from home. My mom and dad used to go to sell goods in that market.
That day as they were about to leave after having lunch, they told me to look after the grains that were on the ground in front of the house, drying and to wash all the dishes.
As I was about to wash my dishes, few of my friends came to take me for swimming. They even ensured me that we’ll come back before my parents do and that they will help me to wash the dishes after we come back. I couldn’t say no. At that time it was easier to say ‘no’ to ‘eat more’ that saying ‘no’ to friends because friends were very important. I also thought that it might be the right idea; I’ll come back in just few hours and will quickly finish all the work. I also thought that if I didn’t come quickly my father will punish me.
All four of us went running and after around 15 minutes we reached the blue pond near the jungle. There were several big stones near the water. My friends kept their dressed on that stones and started jumping into the water. I couldn’t swim so I just stayed outside near to the place where they kept their dresses. They came outside swimming and asked me why I was still there. They called me to come swim together. I told them that I couldn’t swim and that I’ll just take a bath near the bank. They started forcing me, saying “You will learn if you start playing everyday”. As I stepped into the water and moved a little forward I reached the deeper part of it. I completely didn’t know how to swim and I started drowning. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to shout but I couldn’t being inside the water. I started drinking water. Water was getting inside into my mouth and nose. Maybe because I had to be alive that day, luckily one sister from near my village saw me drowning. Hurriedly she came swimming, she took my hand and pulled me out from the water. I was unconscious at the moment while my friends were holding me. Their were also afraid, because if my father knew about it he surely was going to beat me.
Co-incidentally my father came there searching me. All my friends ran away at sign of my Father. I wasn’t able to run, I just stayed there. My father came with the raw bamboo stick and he started beating me. I suddenly got up from the place where I was sitting but couldn’t even speak or run. I walked slowly, father was scolding and beating me. When we reached home, the grains were all over the floor because of the birds and the chickens. I was thinking mom would protect me from the hitting of dad but she started yelling, more, saying I should get more punishment as I didn’t look after the house while they were not at home. Maybe because of tired walking of long distance and the angriness for what I’ve done, my dad started hitting me more and more. Because of the bamboo stick my skin started to crack and it started bleeding. After seeing the blood my mom became conscious and she said, “Now, it’s enough, do you want to kill her.” A she stepped forward to protect me, my dad started to scold mom. They started quarrelling. After few minutes one of the neighbours came hearing all the noises. He tried to make my dad understand that children in this age make mistakes. “You don’t have to make it a very big issue.” Then he moved towards the village.
After around 1 hour fever caught me. My whole body was shaking all night, I was totally unconscious. My mother treated me with wet, cold towel whole night. She was so worried about me; she didn’t even know that I was drowned in the water that day. After 2 days I got better,
I realised, if I hadn’t left the home, everything would be fine. One most mistakable thing is that the one who took me out from the water while I was drowning is no more in this world now. She has got her own story. She died when her child was just 1 year old and now he is 18 years old. He lives with his grandparents. He hadn’t seen his mother face until one day he came to our home and I showed him the picture of his mother. Once I had taken a photo with her, long ago. He was very happy seeing the photo. He took the picture of the photo with his mobile.
So this is a short story about me, and the one who saved me. Thank you. (Some time I remember that day and it terrifies me)”
On the picture; you can see her Nepali writing of the story. Its on side.