He says, "Oh, sorry dude! It's about 4 AM, so my eyes are almost shut tight.""Don't try to be over smart," I tell him, "I am your principal when it comes to cards."
What is Dashain without endless hours of card sessions with friends! We play, we try to sneak in better deals, and sometimes such verbal fights lead to physical ones. Playing cards would be our number one agenda on the list. We used to play cards from the first day of Dashain (Ghatasthapana). And there were plenty of other activities to last throughout the festival. There was the inter-village football match, arranging the game of lottery, getting started on the village sanitation program, organizing unforgettable picnics, and managing goat meat for the Dashain feast.
Today I miss all such activities. It's the seventh day of Dashain as I write this, but I still have two exams to write. I tried to incorporate the feeling of Dashain euphoria in this strange city of India but the more I tried, the more my tears fell. I miss my family and friends back home. Those of us here are doing our best to replicate the festivities of Dashain in this foreign land. We are organizing a grand Dashain party with different food items, and we have even arranged for jamara and tika. But of course, home is still home.
The meat dishes ordered from hotel lack the magic of mother's hands. Even the fun of playing cards with hostel friends feels unreal. The green jamaras look like plastic. Never mind the grand Dashain party, the loud music, the beautiful cultural shows, and putting tikas on each other—these fall far behind on the celebrations we enjoy with families in our native place.
I am in the midst of this Dashain party but every fiber of my being longs to be home. My legs are reluctant to dance. My hands want to receive the Dashain blessing from my parents only.
But this is not my pain alone. I imagine other Nepalis residing in foreign land either to earn money or for education purposes must be feeling just as sad and lonely. My brother living in Malaysia expressed the same emotions. My friend from the village, who's in the US, even shed tears as we spoke about how much we missed home.
It touched me when he said that even his luxurious car, thousands of dollars and comfortable life were unable to give him the same happiness as Dashain in the village gave to all of us.
For me, it's okay. I came here to study and I will return home next year. But for those who decided to live their entire life or even a great portion of it in a foreign land, Dashain will make them cry. And not just during Dashain- they will suffer in Tihar, Chhath, Holi and all other festivals.
Our festivals teach us the way of living. Most of us celebrate it but never understand its core meaning until we are alone. Can you imagine celebrating Dashain alone or with just two people? How we do slaughter the goat? What is the meaning of putting tika on yourself? Will two people enjoy playing cards by themselves? Imagine how weird it is playing Holi alone. Imagine playing deusi or bhailo alone. Our festivals prove that we need unity in everything. Only if we go by hand-in-hand, then we'll reach our goals. We don't need to go abroad for money. If we invest the same level of labor in our land, we can surely reap more rewards along with the happiness of being with our families. So let's do something in our own land. Do it for yourself and for your upcoming generations. You will earn less but its value will be abundant. The taste of gundruk and dhido will far surpass that of KFC.
Whatever be the situation, think before going abroad. Do little things in our motherland. We know that every big work starts with a small step. Don't reach for virtual happiness by sacrificing real ones.
Suman is a postgraduate student of Business Administration at Andra Pradesh, India.
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