He was swept away while crossing the river on his bicycle. He was returning from work in Janakpur. The water level of the river had already risen. They say that the onlookers had warned him of the risk of crossing such an intense and raging river. But he had insisted that he would make it. He said he had to return to his family. He was aware of his responsibilities. They tell me that he had somehow managed to cross the river halfway, carrying his bicycle on his shoulders. But a big wave of water came and swept him away in a second. All of this happened while I was collecting fodder hoping that my husband would be home soon.
His body was later found near Tilgadh.
With him gone, I lost everything. He was our only support, our only protection, our saviour. Although we were poor, we were together. Although we had little to eat, our children were fed. Because we had no fields of our own to plant crops, his work in Janakpur was the only source of income. With him, all was gone.
I have four daughters and a son. Two of them are very small. Look at our hut. Do you see proper walls? Ceilings? This is an uncongenial place. The floor is always damp. This is where we sleep, where we cook, and where we live. It is such a sad thing that there are people who use us for their political gains. They come and utter warm words of concern and promises, ask for our votes, and then leave. Today, I struggle to make ends meet while they come and go.
Like every mother, I want my children to have a good life. But wanting isn’t enough. Sometimes the predicaments of living worry me. I can feed my family only when I earn wages, but work is not always available. My good neighbours come to our rescue in dire times and ensure that the children do not go to bed hungry. I also get some allowance as a single mother from the state but it is too little for too many mouths to feed.
Every time I look at the river, I think about how it has cost me my life.
