An unlit butter lamp
It was Tuesday, 2nd of February 1980. The quiet evening light filled the valley of Dungsam with a golden glow and when the last ray was about to set, the dreary pond nearby was transformed into a thing of surpassing beauty with a reflection of a house situated nearby.
In this house, long ago, there lived a couple with their only daughter by the name of Pema. Fighting against all odds, the old parents tried to educate her. But Pema had no interest in studies. In the lap of parents’ affection, she grew up as a carefree girl. However, her carefree days did not last long. The old couple died leaving for her nothing but the house only. Since then, she lived alone until Kinley came into her life and parented two sons – Karma and Ugyel. It is a mystery how they met and how they started a life together.
“Tomorrow is Wednesday and it is Losar. What should I do?”, thought Pema. When she looked out of the window she found the last ray of the sun had gone. The surroundings looked strange. “Why haven’t the duckling come to swim today?” she wondered and closed the window.
She then got busy with her daily household chores. To her own surprise she found herself doing them with an unusual care and fastness. After she had swept the floor, she went inside the choeshom to lit the last piece of incense stick and was about to light the butter lamp too, when she realized that she had oil just enough to lit one lamp. If she lit it today, she would not be able to light it on Losar, the next day. She had no money to buy the oil either. Her husband would have spent all the money on his drinks. What a tragedy would it be if “I cannot light the lamp on auspicious night – Namgang”, said she to herself. “No.. I will light the lamp tomorrow – that is more important”, she decided and let alone the kerosene lamp glow.
No sooner had she finished the household chores, than her sons returned from their play. Karma, the elder, silently entered the kitchen, but found the pots empty. He shook his head and Ugyel understood. They then went inside the bedroom where they found their mother going through an old album. She was in a world of her own, oblivious of their arrivals. The photographs had brought her dead yesterdays to her life.
As she turned a page of the album, a chill ran through her spine. There lay a photograph of her parents. Her little heart grew cold and started aching. The more she closed her eyes, the picture of her smiling parents appeared brighter. The memory, Pema had of her parents, was that they never looked unhappy. They were full of joy and happiness. Pema was an apple in their eyes. She had believed she was lucky, but the marriage put an end to her happiness. She had never suffered before, or even if she did, it was just for a short period. Now suffering seemed endless. She wished the earth to open and swallow her up.
“Ama! Where had Apu gone,” said Ugyel from behind, happy that his father was away. “Oh! My sons, I didn’t know that you have returned”, exclaimed Pema. She alone knew how much she loved her kids despite the difficulties she faced in bringing them up. They were her only source of joy, her hope, aspirations, dreams and…everything…
“Don’t know, but he said he would return early with some rice and meat for Losar. It is getting late now,” Pema sounded worried.
“He will come back drunk! Are you sure, Ama, will he not beat us?”, said Karma as he sat down. “I pray your father hadn’t spent all the money on his drinks. Our oven is cold and the pots empty.” Their mother continued, “I suppose he will not beat you and if he did run to Tshampa’s house, okay.” “If he beats us tonight, I will kill him,” said Ugyel. “Kill him! Who? Me?” Their father interrupted. Yes! He was drunk as usual and there was nothing in his hand. “You pigs!” shouted the father as he rushed in.
“Oh! No…” gasped Pema and tried to stop her husband from beating the boys. Things went topsy-turvy inside the house and as ill luck would have it, the bottle, that their father senselessly flung, hit the mother right on the head. She collapsed and never woke up, never to kiss her husband goodbye, never to hug her boys and all her dreams laid shattered on the ground.
To regret was too late for Kinley. Only in solitude he vividly remembered how nice and caring his wife had been and in her absence he realized what true love really meant. “And where are the boys?” a mysterious shadow hung over the settings of jail where he was imprisoned and died after 7 years. No one knew about their brothers.
Back in Dungsam, it was Wednesday, 3rd of February, 1980, the Losar had dawned but the house was quiet, looked abandoned and haunted. Oven was still cold in the kitchen. And in the room everything lay scattered, save the old butter lamp in the desolated Choeshom, but nobody was there to light it. Outside, the image of the house still continued to glimmer on the dreary surface of the pond in the last rays of the dying sun.
By: Sonam Wangdi