By Pragati Rai
When she got a basket
My little daughter forgot everything—
Forgot food, forgot her mom.
When she got the basket
She forgot my lap.
How can a mom keep a control over her
When she leaves her lap?
Leaving everything aside,
she has to fill her basket.
In the basket, she put some flowers.
Then she liked the moon,
So took out the flowers and put them on the moon.
She liked the stars even more.
More than the stars she liked the wind,
water, butterflies, clouds and what not!
There is one basket; she has to put a lot.
She kept on taking out and putting in,
Taking out and putting in…
Then the evening tolled.
She started crying
Because the basket was still empty.
Comparing the basket with life,
The mom began to cry with her daughter.
Life too remains empty
Trying all through to fulfil your desires.
Still sobbing,
The mom said to her daughter:
Keep only one thing in the basket
And fill your heart with the memory of the others.
Translated from Nepali by Mukul Dahal
Pragati Rai (b. 1977), is a Nepali poet and novelist. She grew up in Khotang of Nepal, spend some of her time in South Korea, and is presently back in Nepal. Although she is widely known for her first novel, Lekhak Ki Swasni (The Writer’s Wife, 2014), Pragati burst into the Nepali literary scene with a slim collection of powerful poems called Badi Bigyapti (Baadi Press Release, 2009). He latest work is Birsiyeko Mrityu.