Ani- Sister to the World, Daughter to a Mafia

by Niharika Arora (India)

I didn't expect to find Nepal

If I were to write a biography on someone, it would be Ani. "Oh girl, you have got a great camera there. Do you want me to move aside for the frame that you are trying to take?" She asked me politely while I tried to peep with my camera viewfinder from under a bench on which she was sitting, just looking at the marvelous Boudnath Stupa in front of her. Listening to her fluent English in that accent I asked her, "which country are you from?" "Oh! I don't associate myself with any now. You know, I have been living in Nepal as a nun for years now and I have left everything behind." She said. I could sense zero regrets in her voice. A nun now, Ani Tsultrim, wore many hats in her lifetime. She served for 6 years in the army as a soldier, was a journalist before that, studied literature and anthropology, learnt languages, worked with Nepali organizations, been a homemaker to her five sons and lived in Nepal since the last 20 years. But in a few days she will be leaving this country to transit from a life of retreat to of physical rest in a place called Collarado. And why now? Because, she has seen it all. It's hard for her to see the places she has dearly loved move towards a course of irreversible destruction. And not just Nepal, even India and her home, Canada too. Her heart was now as white as the Stupa around. With a conviction of the Himalayas, she couldn't be moved anymore, not with the country's beauty and nor with its complex people. I felt like sitting by her side and also because she asked me If I would like to. Our conversation started with her expressing the love for the Boudnath Stupa of Nepal. She saw it as wheel of life where after samsara only nirvana existed. And my reasons to come here were like an extension to her own. "I come here for the individuality that it stands for in a chaotic place like Kathmandu. It's like an incline from everything to nothing and nothing is just perfect for that peace of mind." I said when questioned about it. We walked a little towards the direction of her favourite Vietnamese Cafe where she narrated number of stories 10 times the lines on her face. The face that had the sadness of the world but at the same time was a crater of unsaid human paradoxes too. She ordered fried rice and vegetable juice with a side soup. I ended up eating noodles and drank a glass full of fresh fruit juice. 'COMPASSIONATE' that was the word for her soul. From journalism to army to politics to religion, she had several questions around their existence and the stories to prove them futile in present times. Our deep conversation was accompanied by her favourite sweet dish made up of rice and coconut ice-cream. We discussed nuclear wars, her brother dying of the most dangerous form of cancer that he got of a nuclear reactor while serving in the army, the recklessness towards environment, the current Nepal that exists, the roads to China that will soon be built after the destruction of all the beautiful trekking routes, how her father belonged to a Hungarian mafia, the Kashmir issue and how the world makes you feel regretful even if you have zero regrets. It felt as if all the tasty food and a great sweet dish failed to bring a smile on her face. The pain was settled deep inside, undigested because of her week stomach and an empathetic heart. At one point, I was out of words, but she never failed to fill those gaps with her tales. And yet again, in this travel journey where I didn't expect to find any enlightenment, I was much inspired and enlightened.