“Shradheya”, I have been trying to have this name pronounced without a difficulty for Torbias a million times.  My effort on teaching him some Nepali always seems to be ending in a loud laugh. This effort of mine trying to make Torbias actually pronounce “shradheya” is an endless struggle. 

It was Mila, my daughter’s, 3rd birthday; I learnt I am to be a mother again. Starting from those early morning sickness days, we started to jot down some name for our new one.  TBi, apple of my eyes, as a true Nepali I had shortened Torbias to TBi and he liked it.  In a process of finding a new name, TBi jotted his side of names and I scribbled some of mine. He heard me saying “Shradheya” and I thought he liked it when I uttered the word, at least by the look of it.  Despite of his and mine liking of the name “Shradheya”, it did not fit into Tbis’ palate without pricking my eardrum.  After countless number of lessons, I gave up the hope on the syllables: “shra-de-ya”.  I felt I had to compromise with Tbi for the flesh I was carrying for nine months.  When it came to naming my child, I had to think how comfortable his side of the world would be?  We explored from Alexander to Sebastian and then Krishna to Bhumidev.

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After three years, I came home with my entire family.  TBi is always happy to come home for all the respect that he bags in here.  And, Mila loves all the attention that she gets.  Particularly, when she gets to flaunt her brother to others pointing her tiny finger to his nose and says “gunJan”.  Mila now is 5, Gunjan 3 and Tbi even a baby and always would remain one.  This holiday of mine seems like another mission that I have taken on a professional level.  Every time I have come home, as excitedly, I also end up leaving with distress and void in my heart.  Every second visit I have had for past nine years were minus the people that I have known.  Thinning out the crowd some moved aboard and others were just old souls.  

Few days into my visit, I was in the living room talking to my grandmother after delicious Nepali lunch.  She was telling me how hard it was to feed me when I was a kid.  She reminded how she used to spend the whole morning running after me to finish a bottle of milk. I gazed into her wrinkled eyes and a wave of emotions passed through me.  I held her hand and hugged her tight.  She whispered, “Dhanna yaspali timi haru charai jana lai bisancho bhaena (fortunately, none of you four got sick this time).”  I replied, “Aama, ke nai huncha ra?  Bimari bhayo nai bhane pani aausadi khane ni (nothing’s gonna happen. Even if we get sick, medicine is always there).” Guilt ran through me for putting 80 years old lady through that worry of our sickness.  Even with limited knowledge on Nepali, Tbi still understood the sentiments and he smiled. 

Days passed so quickly here in Nepal: cousins, family, friends and the food. I always end up gaining few kilos when I return home.  At times, this word “HOME” puzzles me.  Am I to conflict myself?  Which one is my actual home?  Is it where me and my family lives now or where I have grown up and is so close to my heart?  Well I packed this question for someone else to answer. 

My monologue ended with Mila’s giggle. I looked up and she was playing with red “saari”, trying to wrap her around.  She came up with her innocent query, “Mama, why can’t I wear this everyday at home?” I had to explain her, “The five feet long garment is bit too much for you to carry around everyday, princess.”  She held my index finger with her softness and said, “Mama! When we go home, you wear it everyday because I like you more that way.”  As a testimony to her innocence- I smiled. 

Those days, my parents were busy inviting friends and family for us.  Half the people I meet ask the same question over the years.  “What are you doing these days?”  Surprisingly, I never got bored of this question.  It never wore me off.  In fact, I am proud to tell that I am a stay-home mother.  I have two beautiful children and a loving husband who takes care of me.  In couple of occasions I even heard people saying “What a waste of talent!  She got a university degree and all of her certificates are food for silverfish.”  Yes, my honours and medallions hung on the walls neatly in my home here.  May be didis’ in the house cleaned them once in a while but beside that they were only shiny pieces of souvenirs for me.  My actual medals were three of them. 

My stay in Nepal was coming to the end.  One round of goodbyes was scheduled; I started hastily calling and receiving phone calls.  Also, kept telling everyone how beautiful the stay had been and I could never get enough of this place.  In the process of saying goodbye, my mom handed me a phone, “It’s your phone nanu, it’s Piyush?”  I was surprised to hear the name Piyush, how many Piyush do I know?  I asked, “Piyush who?”  My mom threw a puzzled look said, “I don’t know.  He says his name is Piyush.” I looked at TBi and he was busy with kids trying to catch some more Nepali words as Mila was proudly trying to correct him.

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