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Memories of our friendship

By kamala , 20 March 2015
Author
Kamala Budhathoki 'Sarup'

Published in UPI Asia blog. (revised article) : Life is confusing and has its poisonous elements. It is unbelievable that my friend who has been killed in road accidents. It feels strange and lonely amidst a crowd of people walking back home in the evening after a day's work.

The scene outside my window in Arlington VA, is one of flowers, a large pasture and a wide, square road that can be seen into the distance. These images are  also synonyms for my life. But, today, even these seem painful to watch. It is close to five in the evening. If it was winter, it would be night already, but for now, spring still hasn't ended, and the sun hasn't yet set.

" Our friend from downstairs," My sister said. My heart was stunned by the incomplete sentence from my sister before the telephone rang. "What trouble has occurred to our friend?" I asked. Breathless, she
said, "He was killed by a car accident." The question is why was he killed?

"I believe I can raise my children, can't I?"  My friend had said to my mother in his usual cheerful way last year. "When we are born, we come with empty hands and we will go with the same empty hands. Therefore, it is not good to die for wealth." How pleasant that evening was. Under the shining moon, their children were playing in the yard.

The sounds of birds brought alive the town and the air was full of music at the wedding of two of its people. "I'm a lucky man, for I married your friend. It might be the result of a past life's deed to get a good wife who supports me in happiness and in trouble," He had said, looking out of the corner of his eyes at his new wife. "Since I married you to live and die together, it is not possible not to give support in times of need,"  She had responded.

I ask myself, what was his fault? He has three children, a wife and an old sick father to look after; what wrong could poor friend have done? He neither had enough salary to make a living nor could he send his children to a good school. Why was he killed?

It is already dark now. It has darkened my heart too and feels as if it is never see light again. Instead, the infinite number of nights, lasting years, and mornings are only a hope.

Copyright mediaforfreedom.com

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