I grew up in a small family and my early childhood mostly revolved around my young mother. My father was posted in the far eastern part of the country while we lived in our home in the capital city. In those early days, my mother worked in a dairy company. She used to leave me and my younger brother to school and my maternal grandparents used to collect us. It was usually my grandfather who could hardly see. I have a grim memories of him with a black glass refreshed by the large photo of him and my grandmother in my grandmother's room. We stayed at our grandparents until our mother returned. I can only imagine, it must have been really difficult for my young mother to raise two children in society that didn't trust women specially when she is single, but the closeness to my grandparents home might have helped. My grandparents lived at a distance of mere 5 minutes from our home. My uncle and his family of four lived in the same house as my grandparents. My maternal uncle was notorious for his drinking and violent activities. My cousins were of same age as me and my brother. The daughter was older than me by six/seven months and the son was younger by seven months. We grew up together but probably with little distrust due to the behavior of my uncle and rather introvert behavior of my aunt who was subjected to physical abuse by my uncle and mental abuse by my grandmother.
My grandfather was a rather carefree but full of life. He loved his grandchildren equally unlike my grandmother who always favored us over our cousins. But he died early, I was not even eight when he died. The only thing I remember about his death was my mother crying uncontrollably one chilly morning in Kathmandu. I often heard my parents say that he couldn't grasp himself up mentally after being beaten by his son. He got into bed after that and never recovered, though my uncle repeatedly denied it. These and similar incidents made our relationship with my maternal uncle and his family sore. We were always given the impression that my uncle was wrong and his wife was not innocent either. Even as young children I remember instances of discussion of family matters with our cousins, me trying to tell them how their parents were wrong and they trying to convince me it was not only their fault and my grandmother was not same as she tried to appear. My mom mostly if not always sided her mother and she thought her mother was right most of the time and we believed in our mother.
Later we realized my grandmother was not a noble woman. Her tears were fake and she was greedy old woman. The dysfunctional family had two culprits and they were my grandmother and my uncle and others were just the victims. I can only wonder today how my cousins managed to grow up into responsible, social being despite growing up in such a violent environment. I have always felt pity for my aunt who was married at the age of 12 to a violent person, forced to live with equally violent, abusive and oppressive mother-in-law, no-wonder she grew up introvert and suspicious of everyone around her except for her helpless parents.
My cousins saw their mother being abused everyday, they were often abused themselves. My cousin complaints of a backache frequently for which he blames his father who once hit him with a brick when he was young. They saw no support to their poor mother. They grew up becoming suspicious of everyone.
My grandfather was a rather carefree but full of life. He loved his grandchildren equally unlike my grandmother who always favored us over our cousins. But he died early, I was not even eight when he died. The only thing I remember about his death was my mother crying uncontrollably one chilly morning in Kathmandu. I often heard my parents say that he couldn't grasp himself up mentally after being beaten by his son. He got into bed after that and never recovered, though my uncle repeatedly denied it. These and similar incidents made our relationship with my maternal uncle and his family sore. We were always given the impression that my uncle was wrong and his wife was not innocent either. Even as young children I remember instances of discussion of family matters with our cousins, me trying to tell them how their parents were wrong and they trying to convince me it was not only their fault and my grandmother was not same as she tried to appear. My mom mostly if not always sided her mother and she thought her mother was right most of the time and we believed in our mother.
Later we realized my grandmother was not a noble woman. Her tears were fake and she was greedy old woman. The dysfunctional family had two culprits and they were my grandmother and my uncle and others were just the victims. I can only wonder today how my cousins managed to grow up into responsible, social being despite growing up in such a violent environment. I have always felt pity for my aunt who was married at the age of 12 to a violent person, forced to live with equally violent, abusive and oppressive mother-in-law, no-wonder she grew up introvert and suspicious of everyone around her except for her helpless parents.
My cousins saw their mother being abused everyday, they were often abused themselves. My cousin complaints of a backache frequently for which he blames his father who once hit him with a brick when he was young. They saw no support to their poor mother. They grew up becoming suspicious of everyone.
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