Dear son Kumar
It pains to live just remembering you for years. I am penning this short letter to express those pains and emotions. It has been ages that I was not being able to see your face. We are living apart – across seven seas. Circumstances forced us to live separate.
I had felt to be the most fortunate mother at your birth despite the pain that I endured. I was the one who wiped your tears while you cry, cuddled you when you were hungry, provided you warmth in chilly mornings and invited doctors or performed rituals while you are not well. I was the courage when you were not confident, and I was the one facilitating every possibility to ensure smile on your face.
We lived through the dark side of the life. We have experienced the life with no future. Despite those terrible times, I shared my plate with you to ensure you grow up healthy and happy. We, as parents, cared you like a gardener taking care of flowers. We envisioned you to be a support during our old age. We aspired you be a wise man. We failed several times to ensure you succeed. Your dad, who helped you take the first steps of your life, worked hard to sustain our family. He is very old now but still says his dreams still remind him of those rivers, rivulets, hills, mountains and sentient beings.
For decades while living as refugee in cramps camps, you always questioned about our country and our identity. Why are we living here? Do we have a future? When are we returning to our country? We have faced your insightful questions repeatedly. You intended to visit the country you were born out of your affection to the motherland. Unfortunately, the regime tagged you as a terrorist and pushed you into dungeon. We know you are living without a future.
When I cook a delicacy, I remember you. I remember you on festivals and occasions. I remember you when I fell sick. We rarely feel physically and mentally well at this old age. We are surviving with anti-depression drugs. It surely is the result of our separation.
We are currently living in a country called Canada. Me and your dad are growing very old. Illness and your remembrance making our life distressing. Yet we console ourselves with confidence to meet you soon.
Bhutan has now what they call democracy. I appeal the Bhutanese king now, through this letter, to release all those political prisoners as these prisoners were uneducated, innocents and incapable in shoulder the allegations they are alleged of. Those living to see their son, their husbands or parents, such as me, would be very thankful to your majesty, if you consider.
I also appeal for help from all human rights groups across the globe to campaign for release my son and other Bhutanese political prisoners.
My son, I wish to spend the last days of my life with you. I wish to die at your sight.
Son, please come back soon, I am waiting you here, desperately.
Your loving mum
Ran Maya Gautam, Canada.
Father’s name : Bhagi Rath Gautam