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Bhaiskurma: A Village Memoir

 In the serene embrace of the rivers Katuwa and Babai lay my childhood village, Bhaiskurma. A place where time seemed to move at the gentle pace of the rivers that bordered it. My memories of Bhaiskurma are drenched in the warmth of a joint family, the laughter of cousins, and the boundless affection of my grandparents.


The symphony of daily life was a blend of animals’ calls and the playful meowing of cats. Our home, amidst the shade of neem trees, was a hive of activity - a place where everyone, from the youngest child to the eldest elder, contributed to the tapestry of rural life. Together, we celebrated festivals like Teej and Deusi Bhailo, moments that stitched our community closer, binding us in a shared tapestry of culture and joy.


Agriculture was not just our livelihood; it was our identity. Men and women worked in harmony, tilling the land, and sharing the fruits of their labor. The village tailor, a regular visitor, became an integral part of our lives, his sewing machine humming stories into the fabric of our clothes.


However, beneath this tapestry of communal harmony and natural beauty, there lay hidden vulnerabilities of rural life. A poignant chapter in this narrative is the loss of my cousin, a soul I was deeply connected with, just ten months younger than me. He was a vital part of our family and the village, his daily commute to the nearby city, merely a few miles away, a reminder of the delicate balance between rural and urban life.


Tragically, he passed away last year in a motorbike accident. His death left a void, not just in our hearts but in the very fabric of our family. He left behind a young wife and a two-year-old daughter, their future uncertain and shadowed by the complexities of life in a rural setting.


This loss starkly highlighted the challenges faced by families in villages like Bhaiskurma. The dependency on a single earning member, a common scenario, means that the untimely loss of such a person can shatter the fragile economic and emotional stability of a family.


Reflecting on my childhood, I see Bhaiskurma not just as a haven of natural beauty and familial love but also as a place marked by the struggles and resilience of rural life. It's a story of joy and sorrow, of celebrations and challenges - a narrative that continues to evolve with time, leaving its indelible imprint on my heart.

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