November 3, 1995. I had just received an honorary doctorate of letters from Nepal’s Tribhuvan University. After the ceremony, we headed away from the city to a hilltop from which I could get a good picture of the Himalayas. …
Just as our car pulled up, a young girl, her back laden with rice straw, walked before us. My wife and I alighted from the car and called out to her “Namaskar!”
—“Hello!”—pressing our palms together in Nepalese fashion.
The girl nodded and returned our greeting with a smile. She was wearing a pretty pink overcoat. Even the belt over her head, with which she supported the load of rice, looked like a hair band.
Soon, a little boy came running over, as quick as an arrow. “What’s my sister up to,” he seemed to be thinking. He held a small piece of carrot in his little hand, probably a between-meal snack.
A moment later, their mother appeared. She too, carried a full load of straw on her back. Nepal was entering its dry season. Soon the grass the livestock grazed on would wither and die, and so rice straw was cut as fodder.
As I smiled and pointed my camera toward them, the mother whispered something to the boy: “He’s going to take our picture, so smile!” she seemed to be telling him.
I am particularly fond of this picture of a Nepalese mother and her children.
In that essential human gathering called the family, one finds the brightness of spirit, the warmth of heart to survive and to strive together.
• • •
In Nepal, the festival of Mata Tirtha Puja—Mother’s Day of Reverence—is held each year toward the end of April and the beginning of May. On this day, families show their appreciation and respect for their mothers by celebrating with an exquisite meal. …
“Mother, thank you!” These words blossom with happiness like a spring bouquet. They express our gratitude for our mothers who gave birth to us and gave us life and turned our homes into a palace of enjoyment, though we may have been poor.
Mother! Even on those wintry days, your smile had a mysterious power to warm us, like the summer sun!
If you saw someone being bullied, you would always side with the one being picked on, leaning over and saying, “Don’t worry—just do your best!”
And whenever you wrote to us, you would always say, “Take good care of your health!”
Now it is our turn to send our love and affection!
Mother, thank you!
When people’s appreciation for their mothers enfolds the planet, peace will come; a century of respect for life will arrive. I took my leave of this warm Nepalese family, and stood atop a hill with a commanding view of the villages below where plumes of smoke floated skyward from dinnertime fires. From a distance, the Himalayas watched over these happy homes like a great protective father.
Adapted from an essay in Our Beautiful Earth: Photos and Essays of My Travels, by Daisaku Ikeda, April 2, 2000, Seikyo Press, Tokyo, Japan.
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