Wife finds the word martyr hollow

KATHMANDU, April 24: At 30, Prabha Khadka has gone through a lifespan"s share of ups and downs. She witnessed the end of her 12-year-old marital life after losing her husband during the People"s Movement in 2006, when she was just 27. She heard politicians praise her husband. She received a million rupees in compensation from the government. She appeared on television and newspaper interviews. And she spoke at public programs to rapt audiences. [break]

Three years later, the simple woman from Dhapakhel, Lalitpur, is wondering whether anyone cared any longer about her husband"s contribution.

“The country has thousands of martyrs now,” says Khadka who lives with her nine-year-old son Prajin and 14-year-old son Prajwal in a small house built over the slopes of a hillock at Siunchatar. “Martyr has become a hollow term,” she adds, alluding to the government"s announcing of about 7,000 more martyrs earlier this year.

Her husband, Pradhumna, who was shot in his stomach by Armed Police Force personnel in Kalanki on April 20, 2006, at the height of Janaandolan II, died nine days later at AIIMS Hospital, in New Delhi. He was 32. The gunshot damaged his intestines and hip bone beyond repair.

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A Nepali Congress worker, Pradhumna drove a taxi on a contract, shouldering alone the responsibility for his entire family. He had actively participated in pro-democracy protests from the first day. That particular shootout, considered the worst of Janaandolan II, produced three more martyrs in Sagun Tamrakar, Basudev Ghimire and Dipak BK. The three died on the spot. Scores returned home with gunshot wounds.

“I couldn"t accompany my husband to Delhi as there was no one to take care of my sons,” says Khadka, who divides her time between taking care of household chores and planting edibles on a piece of land near her house. “I was told that he wanted to talk to me before breathing his last.”

Khadka has told people in the past three years that her husband"s death was not in vain as he died for the country.

“But I said that for the sake of appearance. No one would choose to lose her husband no matter what the cause,” she says with tearful eyes. “And seeing the way things are moving ahead in the country, I can no longer even pretend to believe that his death was worthwhile.”

Khadka does not believe that political parties are acting on their promises. “There is insecurity everywhere, and constitution-writing doesn"t seem to be a priority,” she says.

For her husband"s sacrifice, Khadka receives a monthly pittance of Rs 5,000 from the government. That is the sole source of income for the family of five, which includes Pradhumna"s father Amarnath, 64, and mother Laxmi, 62, who rarely talk about their only son"s death.

And even that allowance can only be got with much wrangling. “I have to visit the District Administration Office at least twice a month with an application to get the allowance,” she says. “They no longer show promptness in responding.”

Khadka"s elder son, Prajwal, studies in grade eight at LRI School under scholarship, while the younger one, Prajin, studies in grade four at James School, also under scholarship.

With just Rs 5,000 a month and rising inflation, it is inconceivable how the family can manage in the years to come, she says. “A job would be a blessing,” she adds.

bikash@myrepublica.com