May be I have an efficient hippocampus in my brain I still remember those rattling guns, booming bombs, voluble news everywhere here and there. Yes, those were the most evil days I ever heard of, days that squeezed the tears out of the country’s eyes, days that seized education from every single rural child, days that tormented every rural denizen, in a nutshell days that pushed the whole country into a frantic feud. Every new sunshine would spring out a new orphan, a new widow, a new homeless, a new missing case, a new death. Peace at that time was miles way far word for Nepalese.
I was born in Rapti zone in mid west of Nepal, spring head of Maoist insurgency. Pyuthan, my birthplace was a humdrum for the communist rebellions. From my early childhood I was told that our country is in a war and we are at the core of it. For every notorious deed I was warned that the rebellion beast would arrive to take me away. I thought those were just some excuses to dwindle my wrong deeds before I started seeing gunmen around our village.
It was during my play hours one day, peeking through the wall at the back of my house I saw two gunmen pointing the tip to the third who was with a heavy bag at the back, I surmised he had just returned from a foreign land. Shriveling in a terrible fear he was submitting every possession to those rude voluble gunmen. Fazed with that scene a sense of deep fear crept through my young heart. It was after the gunman saw me and shouted I fled away from the site. With that innocent mind I was ignorant about the motives the feud possessed but my inner just said that those cold fish in a faint army dress had no humanity.
After a few days of that sight, I was busy doing my homework outside when I heard a sound of march approaching my home. March that still echo in my ear clearly. About twenty rebellions had arrived that night insisting my pregnant aunt to prepare a dinner for them. A denial meant death or a brutal torture. So they had their dinner. During their whole stay I was sitting in a chair dangling my leg with my curious eyes hardly blinked. Amazingly I now realize that they didn’t have a single bit of guilt in them because none of them seemed gloomy, sad or with any sort dissatisfaction from their deeds rather they were witty ,laughing, making jokes as if they were fully contented with their life. It seemed like they were rather proud for what they were doing. With a full belly, they left our home after their commander ordered them to do so.
Trends didn’t stop sometime they were there asking my father to fund their feud and sometime they were there asking for a room to stay a night. Literally nobody had the courage to deny them. They were too stubborn in their demand. Once they asked my father to print their photos (we had a photo studio then), he was a day late to do that and he was taken away. Luckily he returned the same evening saying that a brief discussion and few warning and he was set free. Days passed by, fear lurked behind every village dwellers heart. News of headquarters beings bombed out, a son or a daughter being taken away, husbands being brutally killed were heard everyday incessantly.
Eventually the so called change seekers closed every schools and colleges of our village. Panic was set in every house as parents were worried about their children’s future. Our parents decided to move us to Dang a neighboring district relatively safer and more developed. I still remember that tiresome journey to dang where we had to take a long route suspecting an ambush on the way and the armies stopping the bus in every hour or next just to check for any suspects. Finally we were at dang with a new school for the further study.
It was during early days of our stay in dang, my mother was busy with her daily chores. My brother and I were engaged in our homework. Suddenly the guns started rattling, armies were hollering and helicopter flying above, intense panic was set around. Mother was shouting at me and my brother. We quickly ran to her and finally we were there lurking beneath our bed. Those Sounds lasted for half an hour or more and then a complete silence around. That night we all slept without a single bit of discussion about the event. To our amazement, the next morning we found that whole event was a small part of soldiers training in an army barrack nearby. The fear of violence was so deeply impregnated in our mind that a simple training had daunted us so intensely. We were not the only victims then, the whole nation was and the only victors were them ……… its already been 10 years since the feud ended but the pain it conjured up is still alive …………