Poetry:
Keshab Sigdel
Statues of My Village
I still remember
There used to be an old Panasonic radio in our house
That broadcasted everyday
The eulogies of the royal family,
The news about conflicts in Gaza stripes and Jafna islands
Delays schedules of the flights
To Kathmandu, Tumlingtar, Pokhara and Jomsom
Price list of vegetables and fruits in Kalimati outlets
And weather forecast of different places;
But, it never uttered the name of my village
Even when the news came to an end.
I was always astonished by these questions:
Is Kathmandu so poor
that we need to keep telling vegetable rates every day?
Does Kathmandu never follow the time table
that we need to keep repeating the delay schedules every day?
Is Kathmandu so insensitive
that we need to remind the measurement of the temperature every day?
When narrating about Kathmandu, my father used to say:
Kathmandu seems bargaining for tomatoes, but actually trades human kidneys
Kathmandu threatens us about the flood and gifts the rivers in all civilized propriety
Kathmandu eats airplanes for lunch and sends delay schedules of the flight timings
I used to disbelieve my father for what he said those days
But I now realize, my village is like a downcast
Though few seasonal vegetables are grown in my village
Their prices are never announced in the radio
People there themselves know the chill of the winters or the hot wind
These statues erected in the village
Reach nowhere even living with such acute sensibilities
As if Kathmandu has blocked their movement with its remote.
When they grow impatient due to irresistible hunger
They themselves declare their schedules to look for their country in kalapahad
These village statues!
Kalapahad literally means black mountains. People from the Nepali hills used to go to Indian localities for employment as labourers in plantations and/or animal farms. Kalapahad is one of those places.
