Never Let Me Go

In Hinduism, when someone dies, there is a belief that if you give a cow something, it will be given to the deceased in their next life. Because of that, after a death, Hindus give cows food and drinks in memory of their loved ones. My village has no cows, so when my (American) grandmother passed away a few days ago, my (Nepali) family prepared a meal for a bunch of boys dressed up as cows.

Giving the “cows” drinks

The boys with things on their heads are the cows

My students distributing juice

That morning, I worked side by side with my host mother, sister, and some friends to prepare special food and drinks to give to the “cows” and Hindu priests that came to our house. My grandmother loved coke, so I bought the entire village’s supply to distribute. We also gave out juice, bananas, apples, and little sweet cakes. All of the food had been prayed over beforehand by the priests.

My grandmother and grandfather on their wedding day

Giving a ton of food to anyone who came over is exactly what my grandmother always did. She was famous in our family for the amount of food she would have available for guests. And every guest had to eat until they were uncomfortably full. So it seemed fitting to be celebrating her life by giving out so much food.

My grandmother taught me many things; being a generous host was just one. She was an incredible cook. I am probably so aware of current events because at her house the news was unavoidable. I will forever associate the smell of fried fish and baked grape leaves with her kitchen. I listen to music on repeat, just like she did. She also instilled an appreciation for directness and discipline that I carry with me to this day. When I was eight, I was dancing around with my cousin when we knocked over a potted plant and spilled soil on her pristine carpet. I learned a lot that day. To this day, I maintain a healthy distance from all potted plants.

The past week has been difficult. I started fantasizing about visiting home, even looking at flights (note: don’t do this), and after that I felt incredibly homesick. More than I’ve ever felt before. Like I would experience anywhere, there are great moments and moments when I’m missing my grandparents and family. I somehow manage to both feel very isolated but also crave solitude.

Here are some never-before-seen pictures of me with my grandparents:

I’ll leave you with something to enjoy. Part of the celebration here is a bunch of men who dress up as trees and other masks to herd the cows and assist with the deceased’s passing into the next life. My outspoken, feisty grandmother would have an awful lot to say about men dressed as trees.

Love and peace to all.