~Noriko Mizusaki~
Katmandu was full of flowers
A garland of the mary gold I was presented at the airport
They were tropic flowers of many primitive colors
Among them women in the same colors passing up and down
Sari and pajari the women’s folk costume in India and Nepal
Under the dazzling sun the skin of the people was of sun-burned color
The scarlet bougainvilleas brooming wide open vividly
Yellow dark pink or purple colors
The mary gold flower is the color of the sun
Women spreading and selling accessories or souvenirs on the roadside
A woman holding her child and a woman washing clothes with her hands in a brook
A woman walking on with quick steps carrying a heavy load in a huge basket on the back
Wearing a scarf with Himalayan patterns over her head or tying it at her back or
They hang down the long scarf from the shoulder
And say “namaste!” (hallo!)
The mary gold was the flower for the festival
Timely in Nepal it was the festival period for the Hindu goddess Vishnu
The city was dazzling with full light
At many places I saw the garlands of the mary gold
For praying the goddess we stuck sticks of incense into bananas or apples and
scattered flowers on
At the crematory outside the city
A dead soldier was wrapped in the saffron colored cloth and burned
Maybe he was a Nepali soldier in the high rank who was killed by maoists
His ash would be thrown into the river below
The river would at the end flow into the Ganges River
On this side of the bank soldiers in the uniform performed the farewell ceremony for the dead
The mary gold flowers scattered upon his body were the flowers for condolence
In the city old men were only sitting on with cloudy eyes
The empty expression of the blown women only gathering together and
Squatting on before the houses watching empty
Bare legged children
“We have to speak truth”
One poet I met said so
In the city at many places standing soldiers
With sharp eyes and a heavy gun in their hands and up them
“In Nepal women spend six hours a day drawing water. The water is sometimes not clear. ”
So was written in the bathroom of our hotel in English
On our way back home to the Katmandu airport at night
Our mini- bus was many times stopped by the soldiers with guns
Some time we held our breaths and watched the weird darkness of the night
The dream and the prayer of Nepal which was full of flowers
Yes, now I remember
We opened like a flower
We bloomed out like a flower and
To Nepali folk music with sarangi and madal
With people all around us
We danced like a flower.
– Joining the 2003 Nepal-Japan Poets Meeting
(source : Writer’s Blog)
