(Part 1/3) “I do not remember father. I was too young to remember when he died. But I have memories of mother. During those times when someone was sick, it was normal to summon the Dhamis and Jhankris before taking them to the doctor. There were no doctors and even if there were, they were far away in the district. I was 9 when Mother died. I was a herder spending most of my time in high altitudes with the cows, buffaloes, and goats. Not long after mother died, my elder brother died too. He had started to have pain in his ears. 5 days of sickness and he passed away. We all went very quiet for it was a time of grief. After such a tragedy, my sister must have thought that if she left me alone I would die too. So eventually she took me with her. Her argument with her husband was that I was too young to be left alone and that I would die if she abandoned me to fate. In my sister’s house, my life was not easy. One had to really struggle to survive – plowing, digging, firewood, grass. I did not carry manure. They say it is a sin for a sister to ask her brother to carry manure. I did spend some time in school. Until class 8. And then I had to quit because I did not want to burden sister with the expenses of my books and uniforms.

I went to India at the age of 14. Sister had repeatedly asked me not to go. She said, ‘I have taken care of you all this life. And now you want to leave and go live with strangers and taste rice cooked in a strangers kitchen?’ I knew she loved me and wanted me to be safe. But I had to go. I had to start making money. At 14, I knew I wanted to have a family and live happily. Someone in the village that I knew took young men to India for labor work. My friends had also decided to leave so I went along. I had 1000 rupees with me for the bus fare. That was the only money I had. I found out after I got on the bus that we were bound towards Simla. There I worked picking apples, digging potatoes, feeding cattle and chasing away birds. I missed home. And I missed the yelling of my sister. I missed her words of motherly love. ” (Narendra Bahadur Shahi, Junichandi GP 2, Jajarkot)
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