Saran Rai -- Translated in English

  An Old Leaf             Saran Rai Patients are fighting for life in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) of a hospital. I have been under treatment in the unit for the past couple of days. My condition is slightly better in comparison to other patients. I can recognize the relatives and other well-wishers who have (come )gone to the hospital to visit me and read the atmosphere and things around. Some patients in the unconscious state are only breathing in the last stage of their life. In other words, they are at death's door and waiting for their death. Their relatives are also awaiting their end. I have seen my death near at hand. Does the world mean nothing? What must this life be dedicated to? After all, one day, everyone must leave this world. During our lifetime, we fall in disputes regarding possession of property, avarice, sin, love and illusion of the world and commit mistakes. What's their ultimate use? Some peopl...

  (Short Story) Happiness in Small Things By Saran Rai Every morning, when I inject insulin, I remember my late wife. The reason for remembering her is the insulin pen — the same pen she used for a year to take her insulin shots. After her passing, I couldn’t throw that pen away; I kept it safely. My wife had died of kidney failure caused by diabetes. I too have had diabetes for many years, so fearing that my kidneys might also fail, I began using the same pen she had used. Old age—no matter how much effort you make—makes you start forgetting small things. Yesterday, after taking insulin, I put the pen in the fridge without its cap. This morning, while injecting, I noticed the cap was missing. I searched the whole room—no cap. That pen, bought ten years ago for 1,200 rupees! Now I would have to buy another one. Thinking I might find the cap somewhere, I went outside, intending to check the pile of garbage my daughter-in-law had swept and thrown away. Right at the doorst...

  Crown   Saran  Rai  He became unsuccessful and fell into financial trouble. He had no job, no business, no farming. When hunger began to strike, he came up with an idea — to make a crown and place it on the head of the greatest person in society as an act of honor. “In this age of the republic, what’s the point of a crown?” people said. “It’s not to make someone a king,” he replied, “but to honor the greatest person in society in the best possible way.” Since it was a crown, of course it had to be expensive. Fearing that the reputation of their community would be tarnished, he collected many donations from everyone. The leaders, industrialists, businessmen, writers, social workers, and all other prominent people each thought of themselves as the greatest person in the community. They believed that they would be the ones to wear the crown. So everyone supported his plan. Some even began to flatter him for it. “If I get the crown, it will be easy to win the elec...

  A Share of Fate   Saran Rai  Seeing the loving elderly couple — the famous 85-year-old writer of Darjeeling and his 81-year-old wife — we too had once imagined, “If only we could live together happily until that age.” But as time passed, at 69, I now find myself taking my 64-year-old wife — who must undergo regular hemodialysis — to the hospital again and again, caring for her as her attendant. Dissatisfied with this share of life that has fallen to me, I look beside me and see a 30-year-old husband caring for his 24-year-old wife, who also needs continuous hemodialysis. Seeing this, my heart finds peace. I think — "The life I’ve been given… it’s still better than his." Everyone bears their own share of life…!

Here is the English translation of your story “प्याजी फूल” (“The Onion Flower”) — carefully translated to preserve its poetic tone and emotional depth: The Onion Flower   Saran Rai  The Onion Flower is not really the name of a flower. It’s called that because its root resembles that of an onion, and its petals are of the same purplish color as onions. Why am I talking about the Onion Flower ? Because my life story is intertwined with it. By coincidence—or perhaps by destiny—whenever I have needed a flower, it has always been this Onion Flower that’s been available to me. My first unspoken, abstract love was also expressed through an Onion Flower . Though that one-sided love could never be fulfilled, it was still my first attempt to show affection toward a girl—my first effort to express and receive love. My first desire to make someone my beloved was conveyed through that Onion Flower. That moment has never faded from my memory—it remains indelibly imprinted upon ...

  : “Heaven” Listening to descriptions of heaven again and again, I, too, leave all my ten tasks unfinished and set out to see heaven for myself. As soon as I enter heaven, I receive, like everyone else, a magical bag of my own choice. The bag speaks— “I am your companion. You will receive all help and support from me while you are in heaven.” Before beginning the journey, I wish to rest a while. A green meadow spreads before me—flowers in full bloom, butterflies fluttering, trees heavy with fruits—such a delightful orchard! I sit down, breathe in the pure air, and feel blissful. Then I wonder—what might this orchard be made of? Though it looks metallic, it feels soft. I try to scratch it. The bag says, “This orchard is made of five metals—iron, gold, copper, silver, and brass—along with wood and silicon. It is durable, unbreakable, and unaffected by sun, rain, or storm. Trying to scratch it is useless.” My hand instinctively reaches for the trees laden with fruits—appl...

  Foolishness   Saran Rai   Seeing the raging current of the Saptakoshi River, a young maiden, unable to jump in, turned away and sat at the corner of the narrow trail, beating her chest and crying bitterly. "What a foolish thing I did! Because of my foolishness, my lover just jumped into the Saptakoshi and lost his life. I only wanted to test his love. I had said, ‘If you jump into the Koshi, I’ll be yours forever.’ What kind of man was he? He really jumped! How foolish he was... And I became the cause of his death. His love was true! How foolish of me not to recognize someone who loved me so deeply! I should also jump and die… But I can’t. I can’t die being as foolish as he was!" The girl cried—cried for a long time, tears streaming endlessly. “Where will I ever find such a loving man again?” she wept, remembering him. After a long time, she finally said, “Ah! That man was a complete fool! Just because a silly girl said so, he jumped into that furious river. Thank ...

  The Nose Stud (Fuli) (A small gold ornament that women wear on their nose.)   Among the ornaments kept in the locker, seeing the fuli (nose stud) pierces my heart with pain. That fuli had adorned my wife’s nose throughout her life—before our marriage, after it, and until her final moments. Other ornaments were sometimes pawned when we faced hardship. Many were sold off to pay debts and interests we couldn’t afford. But the fuli —it always remained on her nose. When she became seriously ill and was in the ICU, they had to feed her through a nasal irrigation pipe. Even in that unconscious state, she had pulled out the pipe in discomfort. When the nurses tried to remove the fuli to insert the tube, it wouldn’t come off. And so, the fuli remained there—until her very last breath. Once, I had told her, “I’ll replace that fuli with a diamond one.” But I never did. She never asked for it either. That same simple fuli stayed with her—always. Fuli! Like that...