My Parents Are My First Love

Many things change with time, especially in the long run of time. Drastic changes occur in one’s life, but the memory of some events or feelings remains in mind forever as they are the stone letters.

I want to share the emotions I experienced while I was leaving my hometown, Biratnagar, and accepting a job offer in Kathmandu two decades ago.

In 2001, when I was leaving home to go and settle down in a new town, it became tough to console myself. From childhood to my youth, no doubt, I was loved, cared and guided by my parents in every step of my life. It was the first time I was going somewhere away alone. My heart had gone heavier, and my eyes became watery. After exchanging hugs with my parents and sitting in a taxi to Bus Park, I could hardly come out of my home. I can’t explain in words how I felt at that time. Because my parents were everything, and that small family was the entire world for me.

My younger brother had come to drop me at the Bus Park. The departure time of the bus was 3.30 pm. It was already 3.15 when we reached Bus Park. So, my brother was in a hurry to keep my luggage safely on the bus. After that, he got off the bus, quickly brought a snack packet for me from the nearby shop, and passed me through the window. The bus started to move, we looked at each other and waved goodbye.

The bus quickly left the town behind and started running across the plain land of plain Nepal. As the bus was taking its speed, the greenery and scenery of plain Nepal were moving rearward fast. Those places were far from my home, where I roamed around on a motorbike with my friends once. A gloomy mood had blanketed me like sad the cloud in the sky shadows a gloom on earth. I looked through the window up to a far distance where my eyes could see farthest. The blowing hot air seemed like the witness of my sadness. The time was also running with the bus and taking me away from my friends, home, and family. The sky was gradually turning reddish. The Sun was about to set. It was going to be evening, and the standing trees on the flatlands were telling me goodbye.

After a few hours, the bus stopped in a hotel near Bardibas, a small town on the highway. There was not such facility of mobile phones as today. I tried to call at home from a telephone booth, but people were already in the queue, so I could not.

After having dinner at a roadside eatery, the passengers sat in the seat, and the driver moved. As it became pitched darker and darker through the night, my departure feelings became deeper and deeper. The bus was taking speed, and I didn’t notice when I fell asleep.

When my eyes opened, it was 4.30 in the morning. The bus reached Naubise, a gateway junction of the vehicles moving to the capital Kathmandu, about two hours drive away.

I was close to my destination and far away from my home. I closed my eyes and got being lost in the memories. Every moment I had with my parents was there inside my closed but wet eyes.

Finally, I had reached the destination of my choice. Since then, many years have gone by, many changes have taken place in my life and in the world where I was born and raised. I am an adult, and my thoughts are mature, but my enormous love for my parents is still the same. My heart may stop beating, my eyes may stop blinking, my brain may stop thinking, but I will still be loving my parents in my subconscious mind.

Love gives immense pleasure while together. It is painful in separation, but it has no end. As the distance increases, it makes the heart grow fonder. The love is eternal and immortal.

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