Grandmother’s Stories

Namaste, My name is Rabita. I live in the first house after you turn south from Lok Chautari. The Chautari lies beside the Gotheri bus stop. My house is two storied and crimson colored. Well, if you still cannot recognize it you can always inquire vendors scattered around Chautari. Just ask where the Gurung house from Lamjung is. You can also ask for me, but I am not too sure they will understand that. You see, adults have a habit of forgetting.

Oh, I know what I forgot to add, you can also ask for my grandmother. She is very popular here. Everyone calls her Gurungseni aama. You probably will disagree with me now, but no one can turn away from her charming smile even at this age. She is already 85! And if you have enough time, do not hesitate to ask for her stories.
Grandmother’s room is just beside mine. There are many interesting things in her room. A black and while photo of her and grandfather is nicely hung above her bed. She was very beautiful during her youth. Attached to the western wall is a big brown wooden cupboard. Inside the upper drawers lies traditional ornaments and jewelry of her wedding day. Sometimes she lends them to neighbors in special occasions. The drawers below contain traditional Gurung dresses cleanly piled and if you draw them near your nose, you will notice a sweet fragrance.

Grandmother's bed sits near the window in such a manner that the first ray of the morning sun shyly penetrates the room and lightens her face. You can’t imagine how she looks then. Her face glows and there is a halo circle around her head. She reminds me of a picture of Mother Mary I saw last Saturday when I went to the church with Sumee. But I am not a Christian, Sumee is. I just wanted to have a look inside the Church. I was animated to see so many people praying together. Maybe, I will join them someday if my mother allows.

So where was I? Ah, my grandma’s room. There are many things that I cannot remember everything right now. But I tell you, you must come and have a look; it’s like opening a magic box. Try coming only during Saturdays when my school is closed. I will guide you through all my family members, introduce my grandma, show you my collections and we can go for a swim to Marshyandi Khola if you still need more thrills. Do remind me to ask grandma to tell you a story.

Have you heard of a story of a shy snake that turned into a handsome prince? Grandma told me this story three months ago. It is interesting: keep following me.

The Shy Snake

Once in the deepest jungle of Bandipur, there lived a shy snake. His name was Niran. He was so much shy that daylight frightened him, other snakes made him nervous and howling winds saddened him. Other animals and snakes ridiculed him making jokes of his unusual loneliness.

Rulpi from the neighboring hole was his favorite dislike.
‘Look Here goes our yekalkate/loner!’ Rulpi would yell and laugh with his friends.
‘I have only seen the sun to be such alone’, other would add.

Distressed by this remark Niran would change his direction and lowering his head run behind nearby bushes. Only after their voices thinned he regained his normal speed. He would spend his afternoon perching upon a branch staring at the horizon and return when the sun began to set.

It seemed he had no friends but his solitaire hole. Before sleeping, he coiled and muttered badly about his lonely life. How he wished to dance and wander with friends, share jokes and play until dark! He envied other snakes that roamed with their parents and listened to old jungle tales. He was not sure from when he began to have such problems but it was badly hampering his day-to-day life. There was no one to care for him either because his parents were killed when he was very small.

It was during the end of winter that year that he had an unusual dream. A snake angel glowing with radiance appeared in his dream suggesting him to move north. ‘There’, the angel told smilingly, ‘you will be gifted with happiness and company’.
‘After you cross five hills you will find a yellow lake’, she added, ‘where you will meet a gora. You will know everything from him.’

‘Oh yes, him name is Satyan’ reminded the angel and in a few seconds growing faint disappeared. Niran woke up raising his head. At first he became indignant but when he rose his head above he could see the moon shining just above his hole. This is no coincidence he thought.

The next morning when the tallest sisau tree leaves met with the early rays of sunlight and mainas began chirping, Niran was already climbing the first hill. He had to be very careful with thorny bushes and bully animals.

to be continued...