CONFESSION STORY

Here’s where you can really shed the burden of your poor soul
I will start with my own story.
When I was studying in Darjeeling way back in1998-99 I think I was in eleventh standard.
I used to stay as a paying guest in one of the houses owned by a retired army man. His daughter with children used to live with him where as the son in law stayed in a village – lebong.
The story started like this. Since her husband was staying alone she said she needed somebody to help him at home. He had field to look after as well as few cattle. She wanted me to get somebody from Nepal… (I forgot to mention I am from Nepal) ..a boy of may be ten or twelve to help him.
The next time when I went home I gave this a serious thought. Darjeeling is good as far as education is concerned. That time in my juvenile idiocy, I was mesmerized by the westernized outlook of the people in Darjeeling. Good accent in English. Western clothes... and music...
I really thought if I can get somebody there! May be a poor boy barred from education will be enlightened.
When I told this to my mother she was happy with the noble cause and hence I brought along a ten year old boy to Darjeeling.
Things went well for some time. In between I visited the place once…found he had made a few friends in the school. I talked a few times on phone too. Away from his home… I was happy to see him happy and getting some study also.
But then I had to leave that house and later that place. My biggest mistake was I did not take him home even once in those five months I was there. Because of my boards I hadn’t gone my self...
When I left that place I asked if he wanted to go back or want to continue... He said he will stay there.
Ok.
For some time I had thought I really did a noble thing.
But his father in village was ill for years. He had three brothers. After some time I got the news that the boy had run away from that place. He did not return home... may be he had forgotten the way back or may be he simply did not want to...
But then after few years his father died … when ever I used to meet him he used to tell me to get him his son back. He died before he met his son.
Today it’s been seven years... he must be eighteen or nineteen now...
But the guilt in soul is much more aged.
And every time I visit my village – the silent eyes of the mother of that boy question me and I stand –broken, naked in front of her.gone