Living on the edge
Death is a peculiar thing. The sight of someone dying brings about many different feelings; some of pity, some of fear. But a person’s true feeling about death comes when he or she is staring at it in the eye.
It happened in the summer of 2000 when I was 12 years old. I was thrilled about spending time at my cousin’s house, which is in a fairly rural part of Nepal. My cousin is the most enthusiastic man I have ever met. He had a small trip planned for the both of us, which only involved washing some clothes and dishes at a nearby stream. Now, streams in those parts of Nepal are fairly small. They are around five feet deep and four feet wide. The streams are dug directly from large lakes or rivers so as to irrigate fields for farming, or to fulfill a purpose like ours – laundry and dishwashing. My cousin made it sound like it was the best adventure we were going to have that day. But little did I know that it was only going to be my adventure and I was not going to like it.
I tailed my cousin like an obedient but hyperactive dog, sometimes running alongside him and sometimes even bumping into him. The sound of the running water was the most soothing sound I had ever heard in my life. As we approached the stream, I started imagining all the fun I could have there. I could throw rocks into the water, I could make paper boats and sail them on the stream, or I could wet my feet in the stream while sitting on the grassy bank. I could even do some fishing, though I later realized that there were no fish in that stream. My agenda was quickly growing and the day indeed promised endless amounts of fun. My cousin started unpacking the clothes that he had brought to wash. Totally unperturbed he started scrubbing thee clothes with a piece of dry stone and I felt terribly ignored.
In order to kill time I started making leaf boats and looked amused seeing the leaf boats gently sway down the stream but still I was bound to get tired of it as patience simply was not my best virtue. I don’t know what made me do it but I grabbed a stick and started punching the sharp edge of the stick into the water. I did not have a thread so I wanted to go natural with my fishing skills. The water was flowing fairly quickly for me to correctly identify the objects it was carrying along with it. I kept poking at anything that looked remotely close to a fish. The stick went deep enough to reach the base of the stream where its pointed edge dug into the stream’s bed a little bit every time I poked at it. I was beginning to feel the stick firmly rooted into the bed and the flowing water began to force the stick along its path. I was holding the stick pretty tightly so I wasn’t worried about a measly stream snatching away the stick away from my hands. The stream was adamant though, and I kept keeping a strong hold on the stick, and then it happened.
A huge wave of water came and tugged on the stick so hard that it pulled me and the stick into the stream. The stream felt stronger and stronger as I struggled to grasp on to anything on either of its banks. I frantically pulled on fallen leaves and weak grass, uprooting them as I was being swept away. I was starting to panic and that is when I realized something.
I knew I was going to die. I had only heard of the term “life flashing before one’s eyes”, but I actually lived it. In what was probably less than 30 seconds, I saw many childhood memories. I saw my mother and father. I saw the house I grew up in. I saw my first birthday bicycle. I saw everything important that had ever happened in my life. I literally saw my life flash before my eyes.
When I snapped out of it, I did the one thing Mother Nature has programmed in all of us – fight for our lives. I was crying now and I was very afraid. I leapt at everything within reach on the banks of the stream and I grasped them as hard as I could. I uprooted more grass, eroded more soil, but only bruised my hands further. I felt that if I tried harder and held on to anything, anything at all, I could see my mother and father again. At the very same time I felt the certainty of death and how I was going to meet the same fate my cousin did, who had died when he was 12. I was probably three at the time of his death, and now I shall meet him in the afterlife. I tried not to harbor the gnawing thoughts of death. I kept scratching on the banks like some sort of explorer hoping to find hidden treasure. I was beginning to feel tired now. I was on the brink of admitting defeat, but then I caught it!
I had somehow managed to hold on to a giant root sticking out of the side of the bank. It was firmly planted and when I grabbed it, I abruptly stopped being swept away. The stream was now trying its very best to drag me away and unite me with my death but with all my strength I held the root tightly. I could feel my hands bruise against the rough surface of the root but still I knew this was it, I had to rescue myself! With full force I hoisted myself up to the land and as I touched the ground I knew I was saved. I fell in the ground and snuggled in the mud. I could feel the warmth, I could feel life and I felt wonderful being ALIVE.
Much time has passed since then, but the horror I went through that day is till fresh in my mind. I understood that there is no dignity in meeting death like a coward, but in fighting for life. This near death experience made me strong. I learned the true meaning of the phrase, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger". I feel superior to people who give up easily and embrace death. I would not have stopped trying to crawl back up to land until the point the stream actually dropped me from the edge of the cliff. I would not have given up until my last breath of life. I did not give up. And today, here I am, still breathing.
Words:Prasang Chhetri
Comments
This is an amazing piece of work. I am so proud of you Prasang.
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