What Did You Dream Of, Chong Pang? Poem by Matrika Pokharel

Many years back, when quite young I was
You would often say to me
'Brother! What pain could Falkland experience
compared to the pang I endure through? '
Albeit it was
in the midst of war-smoke
Falkland could perhaps get some sleep
when we were doomed to wake nightlong!
Whatever be the degree of concern,
London slumbers in deep sleep perhaps
when our villa
stays awake all through the night.
Come, if you believe not,
and look at our county;
look at the eyes of the old grannies
and look at the graceless faces of the grandpas!
In fact, in those days
Chong Pang would stay awake
throughout the night
to get some appalling news on the radio
every morning.


Just a few days back,
I looked at Chong Pang
and caressed his present.
At a time
when Kosovo was transmuting into a grave
I saw Chong Pang
writhe in pain
like the patient of a terrible heart disease.
The television however showed
that America was placid
like the statue of Buddha
and so was London
calm and unmoved!

Yesterday too
I observed Chong Pang
and searched for his future.
The shells
strewn over the slopes in Kargil
would go off on his chest
that day
with many a pair of deserted eyes
waiting for the mortal remains
of the dead ones.
I asked him
why Falkland would ache in him
in spite of the long distance in between?
Why Kosovo should
irk as a wound
and Kargil
jab as a thorn!
Answerless,
he displayed a wrinkled temple
and gawked at me!

Chong Pang should understand by now
and Nepal, the country of Chong Pang should understand
whether we are born for Falkland
or we have we grown up for Kargil.
Speak out Chong Pang,
at a time
when our own existence is at stake
would you fight for your own essence
or continue to ache for others?
Chong Pang is a county common to us.
Is Chong Pang doomed to fight
petty, selfish wars
fought at distant nooks of the earth
for puny human avarice?
Is my Nepal doomed
to fight it all?
Come on, Chong Pang, tell!
What are your dreams
for the upcoming?

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