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Why Does the Bridge Exist?

by KESHAB SIGDEL

As my daughter rides on my back along the Dhobikhola, 
like a victorious emperor she asks me everything that crosses her
mind. The only difference I discern is that the emperor could 
measure his authority with his questions.

My daughter strives to give me a higher status than that of the
emperor, as if her father were the wisest and the most powerful
man in the world, as if her father possessed answers to 
all the questions she could think of. What else then? 
Like a princess on a jaunt, she makes a sedan chair 
on her father’s shoulders and showers him with questions.

While crossing the bridge over the Dhobikhola
she asks, “Baba, why do we have this bridge here?” 
“We need a bridge to go across the stream, my daughter,” 
I reply. The answer doesn’t satisfy her. The Dhobikhola
suffocates in piles of rubbish thrown into it. A man in rags
continues sifting through the garbage for plastic bags and dogs
bark at him from garbage piles.

My daughter averts her gaze, and asks, “Can’t you cross the
stream without a bridge?”

Why would you need a bridge to cross a stream that doesn’t have water to fill
the ditches? I ask myself. I say, “These vehicles can’t go across
without a bridge.” I try to satisfy her. “This bridge separates
Babarmahal from Baneswor,” I explain.

“Baba, would not Babarmahal and Baneswor become one if not
for the bridge?” The question she asks shakes the foundations of
my belief.

—Does a bridge connect us or keep us apart?

—I keep contemplating the question.


           Translated from Nepali by Khem K Aryal
           (first published in Snow Jewel, Issue 6, 2015)



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