Grief, self-quarantine and our culture

The last fortnight of the 2076 BS (ending mid-April) was an unexpected misfortune for me and my family. Loss of father is a big tragedy and it befell upon us suddenly. Early in the morning, my 80-year-old ‘ Ba ’ left his body and this world, without a chance of a formal goodbye.

Then, the cultural self-quarantine started. I had to live separately, wear white–loin cloth (kaupin, dhoti and mekhala), cook my own food, wash dishes and clothes, take bath in a separate dhunge-dhara (stone spout), sleep on the floor with few radi-pakhis (hand-knitted woolen mats and blankets) and white cover on the bed, head, and all over the body. I was not allowed to touch anyone; everybody would rather run-away from me. A very bitter experience at the time of the irrecoverable loss of the father.