Saran Rai -- Translated in English

  Address (In memory of Laxmi Rai …) The eternal love you gave birth to — I must cherish. The beautiful flowers and saplings of thoughts you planted — I must nurture. The loving “me” that you cared for and protected — I must continue to care for. Most difficult of all… I must console the heart that remembers you and weeps! You had adorned me with beautiful rainbow colors, You had lifted me to soar together in the sky of love. Still, you dwell in my heart, Even in this many-colored life, you remain by my side. Soaked in your boundless love — you are eternal, immortal, everlasting! May I keep swimming in the ocean of love you created, Even if my wings are clipped, may I still fly in the sky of love you built. May I fulfill the incomplete dreams you left behind. (When you were here, with you, I smiled and laughed.) Now, remembering you (after you are gone, how can I laugh?), May I still weep many, many tears! The Nine Some Hues When free from suffering, a person ten...

  The Smiling Photograph in the Frame Life passed in poverty and scarcity. The wish to eat good food, the desire to wear fine clothes, and the dream of traveling abroad were never fulfilled. In a way, life was lived wearing whatever others gave us. Whenever there was a wedding feast, I would suggest we go, but she never agreed. After skipping many weddings, I wondered, “Why does she refuse to go?” With my small teacher’s salary, to manage household expenses, I had to mortgage her jewelry. Many pieces of jewelry were lost forever because I could not pay back the interest on loans. Without ornaments, she could not go to weddings. Women there arrived adorned with jewelry, glowing with pride. Facing friends without ornaments would have been humiliating for her. So, she chose not to go. Yet, she never once complained, “You never bought me jewelry.” When Father told us to come to the Madhes with a camera for Grandfather’s eighty-fourth birthday, we couldn’t manage. In those days, the...

Story Blackboard, Chalk, and Duster by Saran Rai Write, erase, be buried in chalk dust. While writing on the blackboard, the fingers turn into chalk themselves. Like snowfall, chalk dust settles onto the hair. Like the dust blown by the March wind, it clings to the face. Beneath the dust-covered face, a pair of eyes circle around the classroom, then return to the blackboard. Letters written are erased; one hand holds a duster, the other chalk. He shouts—louder, even louder. This is a world—a small world of everyone’s own. Everyone imagines their world as sweet, delightful, and grand. Snow melts away, but just as the Himalayas are never entirely without snow, life can never be without imagination. Snow must melt to become water. The beauty of life is memory, and memory always lives on. The greatest person is the one whom the greatest number of people remember. Beautiful letters written all over the blackboard are erased. Who could imagine that just a while ago, those beautiful le...