Floating into my Memory -1
Seven Heads Snake
It was July 26, 1988. I was still a boy going to Junior High. My dad was a village priest and also a social cat. My mom was hardworking housewife working beyond the limit. She used to wake up at 4 AM and would start her marathon of work from feeding buffaloes, milking, cooking, going to the forest for grass and firewood. She never had time for herself even to eat lunch in peace. She had sacrificed her life for a large family of sixteen members including children and elders. Besides looking after cattle and people, she had a large field to grow crops. Although there were always people helping her out in the field, she was the only one to cook for them.
There were three buffaloes, twenty-five goats, and four oxen in our farm (we called it goth). One day my elder brother, Tilamani was not home. He went to Nautuwa, the neighboring village to assist father in puja. They went an early morning without helping for the morning house chore. Mom was super busy in the shades with cattle. Boiling water for the buffalos, clearing dungs, feeding, milking took a lot of time for the single person. The first sister in law had been to her mother's house for a week. The other brothers were not home except younger brothers. Neelam had to go for grazing the goats and the mom asked me to look after the oxen. My sister had to take care of two brothers 'Khim and Gopal'. They would like to go with us to look after cattle. I believe Neelam took Khem with him despite mothers refusal.
It was drizzling and foggy. As soon as you stepped out on the grass, several leeches would climb into your feet and hide in between the toes, under the straps of sleepers and sometimes climbed up to the curve of your thigh. We used to carry stone salt and timur (a herb look like black beads and used for spices) to get rid of those leeches. How? First, we used to rub salt on the feet so that the leeches couldn't stand on it and fall immediately. But it wouldn't last long. Then we would grind salt and timur and put it in a piece of clothes, cover it around and put a tight knot. When we saw the leech, we put it over so that they could fall on the ground. But this way 'they never die', mom used to say.
I carried two pieces of salt in my short's pocket and also a bag of timur. As soon as I released the knot of the tether from oxen's neck, they shook their head, raise their head and started running off the shed. The older one was lazy. We named it 'Taare'. There was a star like a mark on his forehead. It raised the tail above its trunk and pooped hot dung steaming on the grass. I cuped it in my hands and threw in the malkhad (storage of cows dung which can be used later as non-chemical fertilizer. Then I whipped with a cane and took them to the pasture which was about five minutes distance from the home. It was a grassy hill with a thorny bush at the skirts. But the summit of the hill was clear of bush fully covered with grass. On both sides of the hill were two rivulets known as Tirtire Khola and Thapa ko Khola. The banks of these rivers were always damp and bushy with grass. We used to call it the factory of leeches. Due to the thickness of fog and mist of rain, I hardly could see a couple of meters away.
As I took them over the hill, I left free on the pasture to the side of Thapa ko Khola. Then I played a ball (it was made up of tattered clothes stuffed in my dad's old socks) with Gairaa Kaale. He was also looking after his oxen on the other side of the hill. He used to make ox out of stone using a sickle. I liked them because they looked like real. His feet were bare, and blood stains could be seen on his legs due to leech bite. There were two significant holes in his shorts at the back opening the sight of hip's flesh. He used to wear a hat that had a big round hole at the top. He was a humble and honest friend of mine.
After playing ball for a while, we played 'Khoppi'( Khopi is a traditional game of minor gambling. A hole is made in a certain distance and the player throws coins from the designated line to put them in the hole. Then the player throws a bigger round flat stone to touch the coin. If he touches, he wins that coin.) When the drizzle turned into rain, we decided to take the cattle back to the shed. So, Gairaa Kale went down the hill to find out his cattle and I walked down the slope towards the Thapako Khola. There was a small trail often marked by the cattle's foot print into the bush. I followed the trial since the visibility was extremely poor due to fog. On the top of the cave (Aodar) there were two trees of wild peach, we call it 'myal.' One was old with some dead branches and hole in it. Another was tilted towards the ground its branches almost touching the grass.
I was about five meter away from the tree going down the river to collect cattle when I noticed a black object like a garden hose (water pipe) big enough to be noticed. It was foggy so that I wasn't sure that it was a living object or nonliving. When I moved little closer, I saw it slithering towards the tree. I was a snake like a python. Guess! what is the next?
The snake had multiple heads raising above the ground flicking their forked tongue. My heart started leaping like a frog. I looked closely to identify if there were multiple bodies of snake rolled together. No way. There was absolutely one trunk with five heads of same size. Was it an illusion? The snake did not move for a while but it's heads were attentive of it predators. I backed off from there and took another way to find the cattle. When I came home, I told what I saw to my mom. She instantly said " she is a panchanaag. Did you hurt her or throw stones at her?'
I said,' No'. But the image of the snake stamped on my memory for several days. My mom fetched some red hot coals of the fire from the hearth and put it into a 'Duna'( a small plate like stuff made up of Sal leaves) and put same ghee murmuring some mantras. She said she was praying for the Naag Devata. Today, when I see python in the zoo, the memory fleshes like a lightening awakening my past. The picture in my mind is still vivid.
It was July 26, 1988. I was still a boy going to Junior High. My dad was a village priest and also a social cat. My mom was hardworking housewife working beyond the limit. She used to wake up at 4 AM and would start her marathon of work from feeding buffaloes, milking, cooking, going to the forest for grass and firewood. She never had time for herself even to eat lunch in peace. She had sacrificed her life for a large family of sixteen members including children and elders. Besides looking after cattle and people, she had a large field to grow crops. Although there were always people helping her out in the field, she was the only one to cook for them.
There were three buffaloes, twenty-five goats, and four oxen in our farm (we called it goth). One day my elder brother, Tilamani was not home. He went to Nautuwa, the neighboring village to assist father in puja. They went an early morning without helping for the morning house chore. Mom was super busy in the shades with cattle. Boiling water for the buffalos, clearing dungs, feeding, milking took a lot of time for the single person. The first sister in law had been to her mother's house for a week. The other brothers were not home except younger brothers. Neelam had to go for grazing the goats and the mom asked me to look after the oxen. My sister had to take care of two brothers 'Khim and Gopal'. They would like to go with us to look after cattle. I believe Neelam took Khem with him despite mothers refusal.
It was drizzling and foggy. As soon as you stepped out on the grass, several leeches would climb into your feet and hide in between the toes, under the straps of sleepers and sometimes climbed up to the curve of your thigh. We used to carry stone salt and timur (a herb look like black beads and used for spices) to get rid of those leeches. How? First, we used to rub salt on the feet so that the leeches couldn't stand on it and fall immediately. But it wouldn't last long. Then we would grind salt and timur and put it in a piece of clothes, cover it around and put a tight knot. When we saw the leech, we put it over so that they could fall on the ground. But this way 'they never die', mom used to say.
I carried two pieces of salt in my short's pocket and also a bag of timur. As soon as I released the knot of the tether from oxen's neck, they shook their head, raise their head and started running off the shed. The older one was lazy. We named it 'Taare'. There was a star like a mark on his forehead. It raised the tail above its trunk and pooped hot dung steaming on the grass. I cuped it in my hands and threw in the malkhad (storage of cows dung which can be used later as non-chemical fertilizer. Then I whipped with a cane and took them to the pasture which was about five minutes distance from the home. It was a grassy hill with a thorny bush at the skirts. But the summit of the hill was clear of bush fully covered with grass. On both sides of the hill were two rivulets known as Tirtire Khola and Thapa ko Khola. The banks of these rivers were always damp and bushy with grass. We used to call it the factory of leeches. Due to the thickness of fog and mist of rain, I hardly could see a couple of meters away.
As I took them over the hill, I left free on the pasture to the side of Thapa ko Khola. Then I played a ball (it was made up of tattered clothes stuffed in my dad's old socks) with Gairaa Kaale. He was also looking after his oxen on the other side of the hill. He used to make ox out of stone using a sickle. I liked them because they looked like real. His feet were bare, and blood stains could be seen on his legs due to leech bite. There were two significant holes in his shorts at the back opening the sight of hip's flesh. He used to wear a hat that had a big round hole at the top. He was a humble and honest friend of mine.
After playing ball for a while, we played 'Khoppi'( Khopi is a traditional game of minor gambling. A hole is made in a certain distance and the player throws coins from the designated line to put them in the hole. Then the player throws a bigger round flat stone to touch the coin. If he touches, he wins that coin.) When the drizzle turned into rain, we decided to take the cattle back to the shed. So, Gairaa Kale went down the hill to find out his cattle and I walked down the slope towards the Thapako Khola. There was a small trail often marked by the cattle's foot print into the bush. I followed the trial since the visibility was extremely poor due to fog. On the top of the cave (Aodar) there were two trees of wild peach, we call it 'myal.' One was old with some dead branches and hole in it. Another was tilted towards the ground its branches almost touching the grass.
I was about five meter away from the tree going down the river to collect cattle when I noticed a black object like a garden hose (water pipe) big enough to be noticed. It was foggy so that I wasn't sure that it was a living object or nonliving. When I moved little closer, I saw it slithering towards the tree. I was a snake like a python. Guess! what is the next?
The snake had multiple heads raising above the ground flicking their forked tongue. My heart started leaping like a frog. I looked closely to identify if there were multiple bodies of snake rolled together. No way. There was absolutely one trunk with five heads of same size. Was it an illusion? The snake did not move for a while but it's heads were attentive of it predators. I backed off from there and took another way to find the cattle. When I came home, I told what I saw to my mom. She instantly said " she is a panchanaag. Did you hurt her or throw stones at her?'
I said,' No'. But the image of the snake stamped on my memory for several days. My mom fetched some red hot coals of the fire from the hearth and put it into a 'Duna'( a small plate like stuff made up of Sal leaves) and put same ghee murmuring some mantras. She said she was praying for the Naag Devata. Today, when I see python in the zoo, the memory fleshes like a lightening awakening my past. The picture in my mind is still vivid.
posted by Dilip Poudyal @ 8:09 PM
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