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)