Kalpana, As I Imagine Her (longer version)

Me and My Kalpana.

Kalpana and I go way back. Way-way back to when we were not even teens. She now is an organic agriculture entrepreneur, beloved daughter in law, a lovely wife and a mother of two, who, believe it or not are 5th and 3rd graders, and here I am still working on how to eat without spilling food on my shirt. My sense of nonsense humor.

She has lived with her husband and family at Nepal Village in Taudaha, for twelve years, which is on the way to Dakchinkali temple. It was her twelfth marriage anniversary, almost a week before the brutal earthquake hit throughout Kathmandu Valley. The house that welcomed her as a 21 year old bride, the house that were filled with cries and laughter of both her babies when they were born, the house that served the entire Nepal family a place to rejoice for and the house that was a dream come true for her grandparents in law when they built it, was instantly turned into rubble, right in front of her eyes. I cannot fathom how her heart must have ripped apart as she tried to stand that ferocious shaking and also lose the home that had sheltered her family all their life. I couldn’t help myself cry when she told me about her loss on phone. But she did not. It was a week past earthquake, and her tears might have dried up already or may be she is still a strong woman as she was as a high school girl. I never remember her as a timid type. She was very tomboyish. She could beat up any taller guys in our class. Not that she has, but I know if she did, she could and she would.

We were inseparable during school days. However, we unknowingly drifted apart after passing SLC. She went her way to study Arts at Padma Kanya Campus in Dillibazar and I carried on to Tri-Chandra College to pursue my Science classes. Mobile phones or facebook didn’t exist back then, if they did, we could at least be a facebook-friend and text-gossip all day and night long, about our days, classmates and handsome teachers. I did attend her wedding though. Photographed the entire ceremony, spent hours doing her bridal make up, making henna design on her hands and making hair buns. Yet, she did not kill me for making her live a week with an atrocious henna designs. Thank god. It all appears like a dream of past life to me. We seldom get update about one another, what is going on with our lives is only communicated with ones respective friends and family circle. She doesn’t know anything about me nor I know much about her life post SLC because we only catch up once in a while. And that once in a while is sometimes once in two years, that is how much we are apart physically but I would say that teenage-girls-heart-strings are still fastened deep into both of our hearts.

I wanted to see her after she told me what she went through on that day. Her grandmother was in fact buried under rubble for more than an hour after that house collapsed on her while she was taking nap on first floor. Her husband with help of neighbors rescued the grandmother. She still has bruises all over the body and whose interview I heard at some FM station a day earlier of my visit. I was perplexed to learn that the interviewed elderly who was dug out of rubble was indeed Kalpana’s grandmother. Luckily her boy was not inside house, who, otherwise is always playing computer games. She and 6 other family members have now taken refuge under a long plastic nursery where she once farmed mushroom and tomatoes seasonally. Everyday they clean debris to scout out belongings. Pulling out clothes, washing them , drying them and folding them is now her day-to-day chores. They have managed to retrieve beddings, some clothes, utensils but all the electronic home appliances are gone. She tells, yo bhukampa le malai kangal banai diyo. (This earthquake looted me) as she posts temporary shelter photos over facebook.

I want to break a story continuation with a hilarious story she told me while I was there. There is a Newar village right across her field, that support Maoist Party of Nepal. Baburam Bhattarai and Prachanda visited that Newar village within a week of disaster with food, shelter and money relief. They were there for an hour while Nepal villagers were looking forward to greet them to in anticipation of aid. The next thing they see is both the political figure rode off their big cars completely overlooking all other neighboring village.

Anyhoo…

Kalpana is a trained ardent agriculturist and was chosen amongst one of the two trainees from Kathmandu to go to Janakpur for a month long farming class. She does organic farming and has hosted three lots of guests to farm with her through Worldwide Opportunity on Organic Farm Nepal (WWOOF). I followed her work on facebook. She regularly posted her farm work, her foreign friends assisting her at farm site, tomato grooves, rice planting, mushroom farming etc. I am proud friend, one thing I wish to see prosper in Nepal is agriculture. I proudly watch all agriculture entrepreneur programs on Nepal Television whenever I am home. I never visited her despite receiving several invitations. It was 6 or 7 years since I last saw her. And when I did, her world had tumbled upon her. She even had to let her cow go in fear that already dilapidated shed would collapse on that poor animal. That cow provided 7 liters milk to family everyday.

Not that she needs my help, but I want to tell her farming stories to people, to help her get back into feet. I want to encourage her to restart farming. I want her to see her rebuild her home so that can she can return the tomato nursery to its original state. 

Time heals all wounds, and I want hers to heal at earliest. I hope that time comes shortly when she recalls the earthquake and after success as a tale that she tells fondly to others. And like her name, “Kalpana”, may all her sufferings be limited to her kalpana/imagination and nothing get carried forward in her days to come.