Searching for the dream: Page 4
Bhumika Ghimire
February 27, 2006
Little Angles
Growing up I was no Angel.I don't know why I had this feeling that I am alone, no one loves me and I have to do everything on my own.No one will ever help me. I always felt distant from everyone, mom, dad, friends.Even to this day, I have that feeling of distance. What I am trying to say here is that it is because of this feeling of distance, I could never be this little Angel my parents wanted me to be. I was not friendly to my cousins, in fact I used to hate when they came to visit us.I was bad to my little brother who used to dread being with me.So on and on goes the list.Now that I have grown up, being mean is not looked upon as a little child's innocent behaviour but a vicious attack, planned and detailed.So the little devil has now become a big, mean devil.I would not use the "b" word to decribe myself because I find it hard to insult myself such poor manner. I can however insult myself with little funny bits like I am a girl who works as a day labour when her MBA is sitting at home gathering dust.
I must note hear that Little Angel is the name of my primary school, I was there until 2 grade. It was a big school with lots of students and big play grounds. Something different from other schools in Kathmandu, which were often run in a two storied house with no play ground and capacity students.I remember being in ballet class and my dad had to run around the city to find me a ballet dress.Kathmandu at that time was not that advanced with stores carrying ballet dress but yes there were liquor stores which sold French wines in every corner of the city. And anyone could buy, you didn't need to be of certain age or show an ID to prove your age.Liquor was open for all.After finishing 2 grade I was moved to a new boarding school.So here I am at 3 grade living away from family, among total strangers.Not much of a difference though, I was kind of a stranger among my family.
Boarding School became my home.There is a smile on face while I am writing about my days there. I used to run away from schoool practically every Friday and then my mom would take me back on Sunday with strong warining that if I come back home again I will never be allowed to come back home in my life. I never listened, the hostel warden was so fed up with me that once she draged me to the principle's office and said to him that she is through with me and only he can fix my running habit.Principle, a chubby guy with Chinese face and sparse hair on his face, looked at me and gave a long lecture on the hard time my parents have gone through to put me in this expensive boprading school etc. I listened, or I pretended to listen.But I was back as my regular self on Friday evenings.
Things went on like this for a year and next year. When I was in 5 grade, finally the day of liberation came and I was sent home for good.I cannot express the joy and feeling of freedom once I reached home.I felt as if I had been released from a prision and set free to live as I want without anyone's directions. I felt as if a bad recurring dream had ended.I cannot express because the feeling did not last long, libreation from boarding school meant be prisoner at home.True liberation never came.
At home, there were 9 people ordering me what to do and what not. They were 1) Mom 2) Dad 3) Grandmother 4) Grandfather 6) First uncle 7) First Aunt 8) Second Uncle 9)Second aunty 9)Third Uncle. And yes all the cousins from mom's side would also drop in with comments and suggestions once in a while, I was moved to one prison from another.In the new prision I could go outsid on set days and hours and thats where all the difference ends.
Continued....
(fictional account, any resemblance to real person is coincidence)
Copyright: Bhumika Ghimire,2006.
Growing up I was no Angel.I don't know why I had this feeling that I am alone, no one loves me and I have to do everything on my own.No one will ever help me. I always felt distant from everyone, mom, dad, friends.Even to this day, I have that feeling of distance. What I am trying to say here is that it is because of this feeling of distance, I could never be this little Angel my parents wanted me to be. I was not friendly to my cousins, in fact I used to hate when they came to visit us.I was bad to my little brother who used to dread being with me.So on and on goes the list.Now that I have grown up, being mean is not looked upon as a little child's innocent behaviour but a vicious attack, planned and detailed.So the little devil has now become a big, mean devil.I would not use the "b" word to decribe myself because I find it hard to insult myself such poor manner. I can however insult myself with little funny bits like I am a girl who works as a day labour when her MBA is sitting at home gathering dust.
I must note hear that Little Angel is the name of my primary school, I was there until 2 grade. It was a big school with lots of students and big play grounds. Something different from other schools in Kathmandu, which were often run in a two storied house with no play ground and capacity students.I remember being in ballet class and my dad had to run around the city to find me a ballet dress.Kathmandu at that time was not that advanced with stores carrying ballet dress but yes there were liquor stores which sold French wines in every corner of the city. And anyone could buy, you didn't need to be of certain age or show an ID to prove your age.Liquor was open for all.After finishing 2 grade I was moved to a new boarding school.So here I am at 3 grade living away from family, among total strangers.Not much of a difference though, I was kind of a stranger among my family.
Boarding School became my home.There is a smile on face while I am writing about my days there. I used to run away from schoool practically every Friday and then my mom would take me back on Sunday with strong warining that if I come back home again I will never be allowed to come back home in my life. I never listened, the hostel warden was so fed up with me that once she draged me to the principle's office and said to him that she is through with me and only he can fix my running habit.Principle, a chubby guy with Chinese face and sparse hair on his face, looked at me and gave a long lecture on the hard time my parents have gone through to put me in this expensive boprading school etc. I listened, or I pretended to listen.But I was back as my regular self on Friday evenings.
Things went on like this for a year and next year. When I was in 5 grade, finally the day of liberation came and I was sent home for good.I cannot express the joy and feeling of freedom once I reached home.I felt as if I had been released from a prision and set free to live as I want without anyone's directions. I felt as if a bad recurring dream had ended.I cannot express because the feeling did not last long, libreation from boarding school meant be prisoner at home.True liberation never came.
At home, there were 9 people ordering me what to do and what not. They were 1) Mom 2) Dad 3) Grandmother 4) Grandfather 6) First uncle 7) First Aunt 8) Second Uncle 9)Second aunty 9)Third Uncle. And yes all the cousins from mom's side would also drop in with comments and suggestions once in a while, I was moved to one prison from another.In the new prision I could go outsid on set days and hours and thats where all the difference ends.
Continued....
(fictional account, any resemblance to real person is coincidence)
Copyright: Bhumika Ghimire,2006.
Print
Email
