Letter from the Foreign Grave
Dear mother
This is a gesture of memory from your son,
Who lives seven hundred seas away.
I know how sad you must be without me.
But I’m fine here in this valley of shadows, free
From all mundane avarice (greed/extreme desire for wealth), misery, and tears,
Resting now at peace forever and a day.
The flesh that once was sleek and sound
Has given way to dust, and now only we, the bones,
Remain to discuss upon my ruined destiny.
I do clearly remember that dawn when the unsung song
Of sadness hung in the air, and I had to bid farewell
To you all; the shadows had crowded over the dales (a valley)
And ravines (canyon/gorge) like impatient ghosts; my dog Pangrey
Whimpered on and on wagging its tail nervously
As though it had known fully well that this departure
Would never bring its master back again.
And with your eyes welling up with tears pressing your lips against
My abir-daubed (crimson-coloured powder) brow (forehead), you had blessed me in your breath
“To be always brave.” I have tasted fire and swallowed it raw
At many fronts from Burma, Ladakh, Nefa, Malaya, and Kargil
To Germany, Italy, Tunisia, Falkland, and Kosovo. Yes, mother,
I had been a hero all the while until a piece of glowing lead
Pierced my heart like a bolt from the blue (an event of a piece of news which is sudden and unexpected),
Packing me off into a realm (a kingdom) of dream and eternity-for evermore.
My fate has fastened my eyes to my kingdom where
History broods (to think a lot about something that makes you very annoyed, upset or sad) amidst the debris (broken pieces of wood, metal, brick, etc.) of lies and hypocrisy (falseness).
That’s why I lie buried here among my friends and enemies,
Those who killed us and those whom we killed. We have everything
In common here; we live in total harmony in a community
Of true brotherhood. For we are the lost citizens of the world.
Weep not for me oh my mother,
For my war is over; now I need no more
To risk the gunshots and shells or risk my khukuri,
Or advance through the hell of the fronts.
Yelling the dreaded words “Ayo Gorkhali.”
By which, indeed, we scared our enemies to death,
But, in return, the very mantra snatched away our own lives.
Wars are always wars and death takes no prisoners,
And soldier a mere little thing for sacrifice, mother.
All my dreams, my youth, and my life-have been
Plundered by those slow fat generals
Who made their medals on young blood.
Oh my mother dear,
The only thing I always regret is that
I was unable to make up for your milk during
This lifetime. For I died for the cause of others in a war of no glory.
Forgive me, mother. And weep not for me any more,
But ruminate (to think deeply about something of the past) for those living whose wars are now to be feared about.
– D. B. Gurung
Some Points to Understand
• The poem is written in free verse
• It is a lamentation of a Gurkha soldier who has died fighting worthlessly in a foreign land.
• The poem is in the form of a letter addressed to his mother.
• The dead soldier tells his mother not to weep for him because his war has already ended and he is in rest now under the earth.
• The only thing he regrets, he tells, is that he was unable to make up for her milk (love and sacrifice) because he died untimely at a young age fighting for the cause of others, not for the mother country or mother herself. For this, he asks forgiveness of his mother.
• The poem expresses a patriotic feeling – ‘mother’ in the poem is not just the mother woman who gave birth to the Gurkha soldier, but it also refers to the motherland, his own country.
Synopsis
The poem “Letter from the Foreign Grave” is written by D.B Gurung. It is a lamentation of a Gurkha soldier who has died fighting worthlessly in a foreign land. It is written in the form of a letter addressed by the soldier to his mother. In this poem, we find the true fate and bitter reality of Gurkha soldiers alongside their heroic words and deeds.
As the title “Letter from Foreign Grave” suggests, a dead soldier speaks from his grave. He tells his mother not to weep for him because his war has already ended and he is resting in peace now in the graveyard. He says, “I’m fine here in this valley of shadows, free from all mundane avarice (extreme greed for wealth), misery, and tears.” With such consoling words, he tries to console his weeping mother who had bade (bid) him farewell by putting abir on his brow and blessing him to be always brave. He really did fight bravely in several battles until the day a bullet hit him suddenly and killed him.
When he says that he fought “at many fronts from Burma, Ladakh, Nefa, Malaya, and Kargil to Germany, Italy, Tunisia, Falkland, and Kosovo,” we understand it is not only about one Gurkha soldier, but the Gurkha soldiers in general, be it British Gurkha soldiers or Indian Gurkha soldiers who have fought ever since the World War I. Now he is dead, but he says he is in peace and in total harmony with both his friends and enemies. Here, he mentions a truth about death – that friends and enemies all alike lie together buried dead in the grave “in a community of true brotherhood.” Since he doesn’t have any more enemies to fear, his mother needn’t worry about him. And so, she also needn’t weep for him anymore.
But then, he mentions a bitter truth about fighting in the war. “A soldier is a mere little thing for sacrifice. All my dreams, my youth, and my life have been plundered by those slow fat generals who make their medals on young blood.” So, there isn’t any achievement for the soldier in dying, for his death is a mere sacrifice that rewards only the generals. Nevertheless, he doesn’t grieve for dying. The only thing he regrets, he says, is that he was unable to make up for his mother’s milk (her love and sacrifice), because he died untimely at a young age fighting for the cause of others, not for the mother country or mother herself. It was “a war of no glory.” For this, he asks forgiveness from his mother and pleads her not to waste her tears on him who has already died but to think deeply about other sons who are still living and fighting in wars.
Here, the mother addressed is not just the mother woman who gave birth to the Gurkha soldier, but metaphorically it also refers to the motherland, his own country. Hence, this poem is covered with patriotic feelings.
Summary
Every year, hundreds of Nepalese young men join a foreign army. Nepalese youth started to join British Army after the Anglo-Nepal War from 1814 to 1816. They are famous worldwide for their fearlessness in war and honesty. They scare their enemies with 'Khukuri' (traditional Nepali knife). Gurkhas took part in many war fronts like Burma, Ladakh, Malaya, Kargil, Germany, Italy, Tunisia, Falkland, Kosovo, Afghanistan etc. Nepalese youths are also working in the Indian Army and Singapore Police.
Being a 'Lahure' (a foreign soldier) is a popular culture in some communities in Nepal. 'Lahures' enjoy better economic status and respect in societies. Many youths dream of joining a foreign army. However, there is the dark side of being a 'Lahure'. Family disintegration, homesickness, lack of self-dignity, and exploitation are some of the dark sides of being ‘Lahure'.
In the poem, the son asks his mother not to be sad in his absence because he is fine in the valley of shadows and he is free from all mundane (everyday routine), avarice (greed), misery and tears. He is resting now in peace and harmony forever. His flesh which was smooth, shiny and elegantly dressed body has turned into dust. Nothing remained except a few bones.
Now his fate is ruined. It is confined within a foreign grave because he is no more now. He is buried among his friends and his enemies. They have everything in common there. They live in total harmony in a community of true brotherhood. They are the lost citizens of the world. He asks his mother not to weep for him because his war is over and he has no danger of gunshots and shells. He doesn't have to go to the fronts of the battlefield and shout the native expression "Ayo Gorkhali" which was used to frighten the enemy. The same word has snatched away lots of Gorkhalis' lives. He says that his dreams, youth and life are sacrificed and the slow fat generals are making medals on young Gorkhalis' blood.
Finally, he asks his mother to forgive him for he could not make up for her milk but he sacrificed his life for the cause of others in the war of no glory (victory). He regrets his mother's words "to be brave" while leaving his house are also kept. So, he requests her not to weep for him but ruminate (think about) for those who are still involved in wars.
Disclaimer - Copied and paraphrased from different online sources.
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